The hand dropped ; eyes filled with tears, and further back, shining through their 
 crystal veil, with woman's quenchless love, looked into his face. He started forward, 
 catching both her hands in his. " Mine at last, Sophie ? God bless yon, Sophie Time 
 has gone back, Sophie Sophie Ainslio !" P. :i50.
 
 KATE WESTON; 
 
 TO WILL AND TO DO 
 
 JENNIE DE WITT. 
 
 ^Illustrations 65 ffitimzn, HEnsrabtJi fo N. rr 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 DE WITT & DAVENPORT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 160 A 162 NASSAU STREET.
 
 EiraciD according to Act of CongreM, fa the jaw 1851, by 
 
 DE WITT & DAVENPORT, 
 In tht Clck'i Office of the U. S. Diitrict Court, for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 W. H. Tuo>, Stereotyper. GIOKQK RCUKU. & Co., Printers. G. W. ALXXAKDKK, Binder.
 
 THE REV. JOHN DOW LING, D.D 
 
 WHOSE PRATERS HATE BEEN THE DEW, 
 WHOSE SMILES THE SUNSHINE, 
 
 TO 
 
 EACH BUD OF INTELLECT, 
 
 EACH GERM OF HIGH RESOLVE, 
 
 THESE PAGES ARE DEDICATED, 
 
 BY t DAUGHTER'S LOVING HEART. 
 
 2090465
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR .... 7 
 
 II. GUARDIANS ,.-,' .16 
 
 in. EARLY DREAMINGS . . . .23 
 
 IV. THE FISHING PARTY . . , . . .31 
 
 V. MILLIONAIRE AND BEGGAB . . . ,44 
 
 VI. THE FLEDGLING *jU . . .61 
 
 TIL MUSIC AND MIRTH . . '1{S . .69 
 
 VHI. FATHER BENSON . . . .84 
 
 ix. AUNT BIDDY'S VISIT . - -t . .97 
 
 X. A GOOD TIME . " . . . . . 109 
 
 XI. PLEDGES . .- ., . . . . 122 
 
 XH. PECULIAR DISCIPLINE .*"- . . . 140 
 
 Xm. THE FIRST ERROR . %- ... ' . . . 155 
 
 XTV. THE FACE OF A MAN ..*.. 172 
 
 XV. WHO OUGHT TO BE HANGED . . .. ' J . 186 
 
 XVI. LOOKING THROUGH ONE'S OWN GLASSES . . 204 
 
 XVH. A LEAF OF LIFE . . , f . . 216 
 
 XVHI. OUT OF THE SNARE . . . . . 233 
 
 XIX. SUCCESSFUL DEBUT ..... 257 
 
 XX. POOR CLARENCE ! . . . . .271 
 
 XXI. TOO LATE ...... 280 
 
 XXII. HASTE TO THE WEDDING . . . 285
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 XXIII. THE RAMBLE ....... 289 
 
 XXIV. A NEW PHASE OP TEMPTATION . . . 
 
 XXV. AND YET ANOTHER ..... 
 
 xxvi. A DAY'S WORK ..... 
 
 XXVH. WAGES AT EVENING .... 
 
 XXVIII. TIME FLIES . . ... . 
 
 XXIX. THE ELECTION ..... 
 
 XXX. THE HOUR OP TRIUMPH . . . 
 
 XXXI. GRAVE OF AMBITION .... 
 
 XXXn. KILLING THE FATTED CALF 
 
 XXXm. FRUITS OF DISCIPLINE .... 
 
 XXXIV. MORNING BREAKING .... 
 
 XXXV. DISCOVERIES A DEPARTURE . . . 
 
 XXXVI. RETRIBUTION ..... 
 
 xxxvii. THE OUTCASTS' BURIAL .... 
 
 XXXVIII. MELODY.
 
 KATE VESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 VERY good humored, very. Not a wrinkle nor a crinkle 
 upon the great benevolent face to indicate less greatness or 
 less benevolence within. Like the sun, round and rosy, that 
 face seemed made to beam upon all mankind. So it was. 
 Was anybody in trouble ? Who but Mr. Jeremiah Clarence 
 was at hand to help them out ? Was anybody poor, neglected, 
 forsaken ? Who like him was always ready with convenient 
 pocket pieces slipped carelessly into the hand of the sufferer, 
 and what was better far, words and looks of sympathy? 
 Were any struggling hard against vice, temptation and ruin ? 
 When others looked harshly upon their trembling endeavors, 
 whose hand but his drew them gently over slippery places, 
 whose voice so untiringly urged them back to forsaken virtue 
 and neglected good ? 
 
 There was, however, no peculiar exercise of all these quali- 
 ties involved in the present occupation of Mr. Jeremiah, who 
 sat very composedly waving a tremendous red silk handker- 
 chief, and watching the progress of the serving up of dinner. 
 This, for a hungry man, who had been gathering corn since 
 daybreak, was a some-what trying occupation, when we take 
 into consideration that he had some half dozen times called 
 out, in a jocular tone, that either he was most tremendously
 
 8 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 hungry, or that tho dinner was a most tremendous while in 
 coming. He sat quite still, however, neither kicking over his 
 daughter's workstand, nor thrusting his head into the kitchen 
 as a vent to his impatience, but looking out across the lawn 
 and road in front of the house, and surveying with considerable 
 complacence large fields spreading away to the opposite hills, 
 and bearing evidence of the plentiful harvest they had borne 
 upon their bosom. 
 
 He was dressed in rough farmer's guise, but the objects 
 about him bore the marks of an easy affluence not uncommon 
 among well to-do farmers in almost any part of our Union. 
 The apartment answered the purpose of both sitting and din- 
 ing-room, and was furnished comfortably, with a well-filled 
 book-case, standing in a recess, for the more profitable dis- 
 posal of many an odd hour when no important business was 
 on hand. The dinner-table was set out in the middle of the 
 room, covered with a very neat set of white ironstone china, 
 and loaded with substantial country fare. A huge piece of 
 beef formed the staple dish of the repast, flanked by a fair 
 sized chunk of pork, plenty of freshly gathered beans, squash, 
 cabbage, and other concomitants of a farmer's fare. On a 
 little side table stood two large dishes of newly picked peaches, 
 and a pitcher of fresh cream, quietly awaiting their turn for 
 stepping into public favor. 
 
 All this was ready, but still the bell had not yet rung for 
 dinner, when the gentleman, losing patience, as far as in him 
 lay, called out in a stentorian voice, " Girls, girls ! I shan't get 
 the corn in to-day if you don't hurry a little. There now," 
 added he, as they bustled into the room, " everything 's ready, 
 what under the sun is the use of waiting ?" 
 
 ;t None at all, father," answered the eldest, seating herself 
 at the table, " only Edward wasn't in yet, and I thought you 
 were in no hurry." Just at that moment, Mr. Clarence, look- 
 ing out of the window, saw a boy walking by upon the other 
 side of the road, with a pail in his hand, and a large roll of
 
 KATE WESTON. 9 
 
 papers upon his back. Said boy, coming directly in front 
 of his, Mr. Jeremiah's, gate, set down his pail, took a slight 
 survey of the premises, and having satisfied himself, appar- 
 ently, that they were worth honoring with his notice, pro- 
 ceeded to unroll his parcel, and taking out a large placard, 
 seemed casting .about for a place to paste it. Say wnat they 
 will of women's curiosity, the present instance proved suffi- 
 ciently the inquisitiveness of Mr. Clarence above and beyond 
 that of his fairer companions, for they sat quietly down to the 
 dinner-table, wondering " what that boy was about," whereas 
 that gentleman himself stood looking earnestly out until the 
 boy, having finished his task, shouldered his bundle, lifted his 
 pail, and trudged on, unconscious of the eyes that had been 
 watching his performance. As soon as the lad turned away, 
 Mr. Jeremiah's burly form passed out of the room into the 
 hall, and down the walk into the road ; he commenced read- 
 ing the mammoth placard, which, ran very much as follows : 
 
 'NOTICE. 
 
 " The inhabitants of Laconia and vicinity are respectfully informed that the sub- 
 scriber has opened a Saloon, where the most critical epicurean taste may be satisfied- 
 
 ICB CREAM, 
 FRESH OYSTERS. 
 
 The choicest Wines, and the finest brand of Cigars, always kept en hand. 
 N. B. Several Daily Papers taken. 
 
 TIMOTHY GAMP." 
 
 All this time the ladies were waiting patiently, discussing 
 the rival merits of a blue and a pink thibet that Mr. Marks, 
 the store-keeper, had just brought from New York. When 
 they had come to the conclusion that neither would quite suit, 
 and, that in order to produce the slightest effect, the dress to 
 be purchased should at the very least, be procured at New- 
 burgh, which was only seven miles away, they looked around 
 for the absent Mr. Clarence. 
 
 "There," exclaimed Mary, as she walked to the window, 
 " now that is so like father ; hurrying us all as though, he 
 hadn't a moment to spare, and then keeping us waiting for 
 
 1*
 
 10 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 half an hour. How very provoking ! Oh sis, do look here, 
 what father is doing !" 
 
 The lady stepped to the window, and there stood the tall, 
 portly form of her father, quite nervously pulling off a tre- 
 mendous sheet of printed paper, that was pasted on his fence, 
 and looking, for him, exceedingly vexed and ill humored 
 withal. 
 
 " What is the matter, father ?" exclaimed the eldest from 
 the window. " I should half think you had been advertised 
 for some criminal offence, if I didn't know to the contrary. 
 What ruffles you so dreadfully ?" 
 
 " The devil has come," exclaimed he fiercely, scattering the 
 remaining fragments of the paper, indignantly flirting his 
 bandana, and shaking himself angrily up the walk. "The 
 devil himself, my dear." 
 
 The astonished ladies, not feeling much enlightened by this 
 pleasant little piece of information, looked inquisitively for an 
 explanation, which, at that moment, Mr. Clarence seemed hardly 
 likely to give. He seated himself with such a flourish of 
 indignation at the head of the table, that it was a full minute 
 before he could recover himself. "Why, Jennie," he said, 
 you know we have always congratulated ourselves upon hav- 
 ing no rum-holes in our village. Well, one is to be opened 
 to-morrow to-morrow, do you hear?" bringing his tre- 
 mendous fist upon the table with a force that made the 
 dishes ring again. "No little contemptible place either, 
 where none but the vilest and the lowest would congregate, 
 but a fine handsome saloon, furnished with studied elegance, 
 supplied every morning with the freshest oysters, fruit, real 
 Philadelphia ice cream, &c., <fec., all to draw in the unsus- 
 pecting of every class. I tell you, if that stays here, it won't 
 be five years before we'll have ruined homes and broken 
 hearts lying all about us ; yes, and graves too. Graves of the 
 noble and beautiful. Oh, the devil is in it; I've seen so 
 much of it. He's at the heart of the whole ma/ter. He
 
 KATE WESTON. 11 
 
 edges a finger into a good many pies, but I protest he has the 
 making of this one, out and. out. Just show me any one 
 thing on the wide earth that carries off half as many bodies 
 and souls to utter wretchedness and eternal ruin, and I'll 
 believe then that his head-quarters are likely enough some- 
 where else than in the porter-house and grog-shop. I say," 
 cried he, as he waxed warm with the heat of his subject, 
 and brought down his fist with another tremendous thump 
 upon the table, " I say, I'd rather have the plague or 
 the cholera here any day, or an army of soldiers to sack 
 the village. Bless me, they wouldn't do one half the mis- 
 chief." 
 
 Having delivered himself of this opinion, he gave his 
 pocket-handkerchief an energetic flourish, used it vehemently 
 about the region of the organ it was intended to serve, 
 coughed stentoriously, wiped the perspiration from his fore- 
 head, and fell precipitately upon his dinner, fearing to indulge 
 himself in any further remarks, and leaving the subject for 
 his daughters to resume at leisure. 
 
 While they are doing so, therefore, we will leave him in 
 order to take a glance at them. The children had lost their 
 mother in Mary's infancy. But her careful training had ren- 
 dered Jennie, the eldest daughter, capable. of so much self- 
 denial and womanly management, that her father had been 
 able to dismiss his housekeeper in two or three years after the 
 death of his wife, leaving Jennie at the age of thirteen to 
 oversee the housekeeping. With' the aid of an old and expe- 
 rienced servant she had succeeded admirably. And the early 
 cares thus laid upon her had induced a gentle dignity and 
 self-control that held the impulsive temper of Mary in check, 
 and helped not a little in developing the noble traits of her 
 brother Edward's character. Since her marriage, which had 
 occurred about a year before our stoiy commences, there had 
 been scarcely a day in which she had not stepped over from 
 the parsonage, to aid Mary in the discharge of duties that we
 
 12 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 must acknowledge, were sometimes neglected by the novi- 
 tiate in housekeeping. 
 
 Mary was very small and delicate, like her dead mother. 
 The baby of the family, and, like all other babies, quite a 
 spoilt one. Hardly sixteen, with black eyes and hair, long 
 eyelashes of the same color, rosebud mouth, and rosy cheek, 
 she was very pretty, for all the little defiant pug nose that was 
 always saying, " I don't care a straw for you I will have my 
 own way, so !" and for all the rather low forehead, that was 
 pretty often shaded by a flitting cloud of anger or discontent. 
 But the absent son was the gem of Mr. Jeremiah's family. 
 Scarcely a boy in the village but looked on him as the model 
 of youthful manliness. Nor boys alone, but parents also, 
 loved and admired ; a rare coincidence, indeed, when we 
 remember the difference in taste between men and women of 
 forty, and frolicsome boys of sixteen. 
 
 Fearless, liberal, warm hearted, frank in speech and easy in 
 manners, Edward was a universal favorite. Loving his father 
 and sisters with all his might, it was not difficult for him to 
 be a dutiful son and brother, and being so, he was held up 
 before the eyes of all belligerent sons, of what age or temper 
 soever, as a study of peculiar excellence, worthy of the closest 
 imitation. 
 
 With these same rebels from parental authority he was no 
 less a favorite. They could never see a fault in the beautiful, 
 noble face that had always that winning smile beaming upon 
 them, nor in the heart so brimful of sunshine, that it flashed 
 like a charm upon everything, turning the darkest places 
 bright in its refulgent glow. 
 
 As for father and sisters, their very life Avas bound up in 
 him, only now and then little spoilt Mary would look vexed 
 and talk fast when she imagined him encroaching upon her 
 natural, inalienable rights as sole baby of the family. 
 
 Having so far introduced our friends, we shall listen again 
 for a few minutea to the conversation, as the dinner party
 
 KATE WESTON. 13 
 
 pushed back their chairs from the table, and, as was their 
 usual custom, enjoyed a little family chat among themselves. 
 Dinner had had a wonderful effect in restoring Air. Clarence 
 to his previous agreeable condition of mind and body, for he 
 sat with his chair back against the wall, looking very benig- 
 nantly upon the round of beef before him, towards which 
 certainly he had shown a powerful affection, and seemingly 
 forgetful of his former perturbation. 
 
 " Father," said Mary, " can we have Jerry to go to New- 
 burgh to-morrow, and Teddy to drive ? We want to buy some- 
 thing there ; something so pretty." 
 
 " Edward is to have the horse to morrow, my dear," said 
 her father, smiling. " Don't you remember he was to go to 
 Ogden's Rock ? I can't spare the other at all. We shall be 
 using it. You shall have it the next day, Molly." 
 
 " Oh dear !" pouted Mary, deeming it a proper time for 
 asserting her prerogative, "I never saw anything like it. 
 You'll let Edward go and take that fine horse off there to 
 Ogden's Rock, all of twelve miles through the sun. And I 
 must wait and wait ; I have been wanting to go to Newburgh 
 for a whole week, and I think it is really too bad." 
 
 The young lady wiped her eyes, and twisted her apron into 
 her mouth, as though that afforded some relief under existing 
 circumstances, but her father took it quietly, asking her why 
 she had not told him before, when there was plenty of 
 time. 
 
 " Why because," cried she, " I thought all along I could 
 have them any day I chose, and now I can't have my new 
 dress for Sunday, I declare it's a shame." 
 
 " You can wear white one Sunday more, I think," said her 
 sister, " I. am sure it isn't worth crying for." 
 
 " No to be sure it isn't," answered her sister, " but then I 
 think poor Jerry's comfort is worth thinking of, and I really 
 can't see what notion can have got into father's head to let 
 Edward kill him to morrow, for I'm sure it's enough to kill
 
 14 KATE WESTON. 
 
 him to go sweating and working up that dreadful hill. Ned 
 drives so awfully too ; but the fact is, I think father's an out- 
 rageously careless man ; shouldn't wonder if Edward got his 
 neck broken some day ; that I shouldn't, and my sputtering 
 won't do any good then." 
 
 This " sputtering," being of daily occurrence, and perfectly 
 understood, excited no surprise, but her father merely observed, 
 " You. are a little obstreperous, daughter, Edward's the only 
 son ; I must look out for him a little." 
 
 " Well," said Mary, pouting more than ever, " I think, that 
 if you let him do that, Edward has little judgment and you 
 have less " 
 
 "Molly, Molly," interrupted her father, good-humoredly, 
 "you remember what the sailor said 'A woman's just like a 
 ship, and sometimes she carries too much sail.' Now, you 
 are getting out a leetle too much sail ; better take it in again, 
 Molly." 
 
 Miss Mary merely mumbled something about her having to 
 wait for necessary articles, while Edward went frolicking off 
 on all kinds of wild expeditions, but, just then catching a 
 glimpse of her brother's merry face and curly head at the 
 door, she forgot altogether what she had been talking about, 
 and subsided into a calm. The door opened, and Edward 
 burst into the room, performing a series of evolutions ; whirli- 
 gig No. 1 bringing both hands into sudden and dangerous 
 proximity to Mary's ears, whirligig No. 2 leaving a bounc- 
 ing kiss upon Mrs. Terrie's cheek, and whirligig No. 3 land- 
 ing him square upon his seat. 
 
 " Why can't you behave yourself, Ed ?" said Mary, smooth- 
 ing her hair ; " you're so rough there's no peace with you in 
 the house ; there's no denying that." 
 
 " Well now, Moll," laughed her brother, " my private opin- 
 ion is, that women are always for war rather than for peace ; 
 so, on that principle, I am perfectly reconciled to my belli- 
 cose disposition."
 
 KATE WESTON. 15 
 
 " Quite a gallant sentiment," said his elder sister, laughing. 
 " What puts you in such glee to-day, Edward ?" 
 
 " Oh,' Jennie, we are to have such a jolly day of it to-mor- 
 row. There are a dozen of us going a-fishing ; and I'm to 
 deliver a. speech at the Lyceum in the evening, a grand affair, 
 no doubt. First-rate horses, first-rate roads, first-rate spirits, 
 first-rate weather nothing under the sun to hinder our fun. 
 Now, Molly, dolly, don't you wish you were going along ? I 
 see you are looking a little cloudy. That's the reason, I'll 
 bet a sixpence. Never mind, dearie, I'll get up another party, 
 and take you soon. Ladies are the best company after all. 
 Heigho ! Father, just give me a piece of that meat, will you ? 
 I'm desperately hungry. Helped poor old Jake a full mile 
 and a half with that basket ; bless me, it's heavy enough to 
 break a fellow's arm." 
 
 The family having chatted as long as they thought it con- 
 venient to stay, dropped off to their various duties, leaving 
 Edward to discuss eagerly, beef, beans, potatoes, &c., and last, 
 not least, the peaches and cream, upon each and all of which 
 he regaled himself, and unreservedly pronounced' them good.
 
 16 KATE \VESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE evening being quite damp and chilly, Mr. Timothy 
 Gamp was seated before a comfortable country fire, alter- 
 nately scratching his head, and smoking his cigar. Mr. Gamp 
 having been left by his parents pretty much at his own dis- 
 posal, had grown up with a strong .predilection for porter- 
 houses and club-rooms, considerably augmented by continual 
 indulgence since arriving at the age of manhood. He had 
 in early life set up for himself with a capital of nothing but 
 unbounded assurance, and, after having rambled about the 
 world in quest of adventure, had at length settled himself to 
 work, and had gradually risen to the dignity of keeper of a 
 free-and-easy retreat for young men, in Catharine street, New 
 York. 
 
 His business prospered finely, and everybody wondered 
 why he should have left his stand for one less profitable in 
 the village of Laconia. They knew that a rival house had 
 been opened opposite, but that was a thing that might be ex- 
 pected anywhere. 
 
 The facts of the matter were these. Mr. Gamp, while the 
 fitting up of the other porter-house was in progress, kept a 
 vigorous lookout upon the motions of the intruder. One 
 day he saw the face of the proprietor turned inquisitively 
 towards his window. Nobody knew why, but that night he 
 started off on a journey, leaving his affairs in the hands of an 
 agent. He never returned again, but went directly about 
 looking for another situation. He had been recommended to 
 this place by Mr. Dunn, a wholesale dealer in liquors of every
 
 KATE WESTON. 17 
 
 description, who generally spent the summer there in com- 
 pany with his daughter. 
 
 Had it not been for an ill-favored squint about the black 
 eyes, and a savage-looking protrusion of the upper lip, Mr. 
 Gamp's physiognomy would have been decidedly agreeable. 
 These latter characteristics were however swallowed up, as it 
 were, and rendered null and void, by a certain oiliness of 
 speech, that never for a moment was forgotten, and that had 
 gone further in his business than the pleasantest eyes and 
 most conciliating mouth in the world. 
 
 He looked about him very complacently, quite satisfied 
 apparently with the result of his operations, but evidently a 
 little perplexed upon some subject or other, which perplexity 
 induced the scratching of the head before alluded to. He 
 debated the matter aloud with himself, a habit of his, when 
 nobody was by. 
 
 " I wonder, now, whether that would be a good plan. Stiff 
 necked .parson, temperance judge, sanctified elders, and a host 
 of confounded ranters all about me here. It'll hardly do 
 now, I should judge." The worthy gentleman cocked his 
 head upon one side, and looked inquisitively up at the hand- 
 some clock on the mantel, as though modestly requesting its 
 opinion. "It'll hardly do, at present. I'll wait awhile, till 
 this business is fairly under way, and then it'll be an easier 
 matter. Make a handsome room in that tremendous loft, and 
 get cards and dice out here and I'll fleece them. O-oh, 
 yes I'll fleece them. Blast that Schroeck, what on earth 
 did he want to pop up for, just as I'd got my machinery 
 working there. It makes a fellow plaguy uneasy too, the 
 fancy of his happening along, as though he'd dropped out of 
 the clouds, to do a body some mischief that nobody but him's 
 got the power to do." Having quietly consigned his absent 
 friend to perdition, with a composing squint he looked again 
 into the fire. It burned cheerfully away, sending a ruddy 
 glow out into the room.
 
 18 KATE WESTON. 
 
 This room was the whole lower half of what had been a good 
 sized house, with the partitions torn away, newly papered, 
 newly floored, newly furnished. The large fireplace stood 
 directly in the middle of one side of the apartment, flanked on 
 either hand by deep recesses, hidden mostly from view by 
 freshly painted lattice-work, and filled with casks of the very 
 best Otard brandy, Holland gin, Scotch whisky, etc., etc. At 
 the upper end stood several small marble tables, surrounded by 
 tasteful cottage chairs. One corner was partitioned off to serve 
 as a passage-way to the cellar below, where oysters were 
 cooked, ice-cream frozen, and other similar operations per- 
 formed. Opposite the fireplace, shelves were ranged one above 
 another, displaying in a manner that might have tempted a 
 Diogenes, decanters, red, white, yellow, sparkling like so many 
 gems in the fire-light. Oranges, lemons, peaches, apples, the 
 finest of every species, lay lusciously inviting, piled upon dishes 
 on the counter. A few tolerable paintings adorned the walls, 
 for the most part imitations of Hogarth, with one or two land- 
 scapes of doubtful execution. A large, handsome clock stood 
 upon the mantel portentously ticking away the hours, and on 
 either side of it two vases filled with dahlias and artemisias. 
 The oil-cloth upon the floor was new and pretty, and the small 
 chandelier hanging from the ceiling lent an air of positive 
 elegance to the apartment. Directly in front of the fire-place, 
 stood a tall fire-screen, upon which was pasted one of the 
 identical placards, that had so disturbed the farmer's quiet in 
 the morning. 
 
 The windows were all closed except a small one over the 
 door, which had been evidently forgotten, where the pale moon 
 glanced down only to be mocked by the rosier glow within. 
 The proprietor sat there with his feet stretched out before the 
 fire, communing silently with himself, until the flame gradu- 
 ally died away, and the coals lay, slowly fading among 
 the ashes. Then he pushed back the screen, arranged some 
 wood upon the andirons, ready for kindling in the morn-
 
 KATE WESTON. 19 
 
 ing, and, after satisfying himself that there was no danger in 
 leaving the few dying embers to smoulder themselves away, 
 passed out and locked the door, leaving the room bathed in 
 the glimmering moonlight that found its way through the little 
 top window. ***** 
 
 Tick tick tick all dark and still, save the flicker of the 
 moonbeams, and that measured tread of Time, stepping 
 stepping ever onward to eternity. 
 
 A blackened ember falls now and then upon the hearth, as 
 a sigh of wind echoes among the rafters of the dreary loft 
 above, and soughing fitfully down the great chimney, dies out 
 in the silent room below. Clouds come marching up to the 
 zenith between the placid moon and the uncovered window. 
 The darkness deepens, and the stillness grows more still. 
 
 One solitary star looks down upon the time-stained roof, and 
 passes softly on beneath the lowering clouds. A fiercer gust 
 sweeps out the ashes upon the floor. Another, and a faint 
 spark flashes from their bosom. 
 
 Slowly it creeps along the embers, shooting out gleams into 
 the darkness. The sigh swells into a howl. The clouds grow 
 denser, and look threateningly down. 
 
 Still the great clock is ticking ticking calm and undis- 
 turbed. The wind, gathering strength, shrieks fearfully through 
 the night. Another gust and the glowing ember flashes to a 
 flame, that circles lovingly the brand above ; catching at the 
 splintered logs, and spreading slowly from end to end, it 
 lights up the large chimney, and sends out warmth and light 
 into the deserted room. Sometimes a broad tongue of flame 
 is driven by the angry wind out upon the hearth, as though 
 greedy of a greater prey. A piece of burning wood breaks 
 off, and falls down directly between the irons. Look ! a 
 small, dark figure flickering in the blaze, dimly swaying to 
 and fro, so uncertain in the glimmer that it seems a mist 
 gathering before the blaze. But that dies slowly out, and the 
 tiny figure looms clearly from the flame behind. With lurid
 
 20 KATE WESTON. 
 
 eyes peering eagerly out into the room, and visage distorted 
 with a fiendish leer, it thrusts out its long finger towards the 
 paper on the screen. A shadow, like a flitting cloud, sails 
 over it, and passes again away. The letters have faded out, 
 and upon the broad white sheet, a bloody finger traces out 
 the words 
 
 Enin, Djittjj, 
 
 A low sound, like fiendish laughter, quivers through the 
 room, as he stands there motionless, pointing pointing stea- 
 dily to the words of blood, Ruin Death Hell. 
 
 As the rays stream out" upon the opposite shelves, other 
 forms float upon their bosom, and gradually taking definite 
 shapes, whirl in frightful circles out upon the hearth, over to 
 the marble tables, in among the casks, up around the decanters 
 sparkling in the blaze. Hush ! was it the wind ? A shriek, 
 grating on the ear above the howl of the autumn storm with- 
 out. Again low fierce, scornful, it rings out fearfully to the 
 remotest corner of the room. Then all is still, but the beat 
 of that fearless pendulum, telling faithfully its tale of flying 
 hours and unrepented wrong. Out upon a stream of light 
 a hundred figures glide, and hover above a decanter clear as 
 crystal, and foaming like spray upon the ocean. 
 
 They cling upon the glass, and mutter strange words, peer- 
 ing earnestly through the liquid, and twisting in a thousand 
 mazes upon the surface. The calm light changes to a lurid 
 glow, and settles in a fierce halo of burning rays around the 
 glass. Slowly a miniature room gleams out from its centre. 
 A table about which four noble youths sit, smiling pleasantly, 
 and sipping cheerfully from foaming goblets before them. 
 Suddenly one rises with an angry flush upon his face. His 
 hand is unsteady, and his eye gleams wildly, as he turns has- 
 tily towards his friend. He too starts up suddenly, and a
 
 KATE WESTON. 21 
 
 dagger flashes to the light. The other sinks with the blood 
 streaming from his bosom. A quick ray falls upon the face 
 of each, as the aggressor drops upon his knees beside the 
 murdered man. 
 
 How very like they are, the face paling in death, and the 
 one bending above it in anguish and horror. They are twin 
 brothers ! 
 
 The wind screams down the chimney, and crushes the 
 flame for an instant. When it blazes again, the vision has 
 vanished, but another stream of light bathes a goblet that 
 sends back rays like those from a thousand rubies. A hovel ; 
 no windows no doors mud upon the ground the storm 
 beating through the roof. In the very centre, down upon the 
 bare ground, two infant forms lie stiff and chill. No motion 
 in the little arms no light in the eyes no beating in the 
 heart. All still and cold. A woman, brutal and hard-fea- 
 tured lies beside them, now and then rolling heavily over 
 and tossing up her arms. Upon the ground at her feet, a 
 half-drained bottle lies, dearer to her than the nurslings at 
 her side. Again that fiendish laugh of derision mingles with 
 the howling of the wind, and the hovel vanishes suddenly as 
 it came. 
 
 The bloody glow falls now upon a glass cut richly, and 
 gleaming with a golden light. A fine mansion nestling among 
 forest trees. A group gathered on the porch, the homestead 
 of generations gone. A father erect in manhood, a mother 
 beautiful and young, children, rosy, happy, all about them ; 
 smiles and blessings, looks and words of love. 
 
 The mansion vanishes ; the broad elms disappear. A great 
 moor, lone and desolate. The young mother, beautiful no more, 
 but wan and gentle, stands with hands and eyes upraised 
 above the bloated form of the waster of her children's heri- 
 tage, looking earnestly, appealingly, as though to call down aid 
 from Heaven. The children stand shivering, starving, cling- 
 ing to her dress, crying for the bread that she cannot get to
 
 22 KATE WESTON. 
 
 give. The flame is again swept out, and kindling shines once 
 more upon another. 
 
 A pile of straw, and a man lying upon it. Hair matted, 
 eyes red and glaring, tongue swollen from the mouth, limbs 
 convulsed with agony. The fiends leer doAvn upon him, and 
 he sees them ! They coil like serpents in the air. They 
 thrust out tongues of fire, and writhe in a thousand frightful 
 contortions about him. They hold out their arms, inviting 
 him to their embrace. He shrieks and starts wildly back, but 
 they beckon him on. Great drops stand upon his forehead. 
 lie fights them fiercely away ; they only mock his horror. 
 They take some familiar form of wife, or child, or mother, 
 dead long ago of a broken heart, and torment him with their 
 cries. They laugh horribly in his ears. They clutch at him 
 with their fangs. He shudders shrieks and dies. A louder, 
 fiercer laugh of scorn echoes over the marble tables, among 
 the casks, up through the broad chimney. The wind whistles 
 wildly as though in answer to the call ; the flame dies out 
 upon the hearth, and the great clock is left to tick away in 
 darkness and alone.
 
 KATE WE8T01T. 23 
 
 CHAPTER IH. 
 
 " COME now, Molly," cried Edward Clarence, as be dashed 
 in after his book, "don't pout, I beg of you. You are 
 mightily afraid of iny killing the horses, no doubt. Now, to 
 "tell the truth," whispered he, confidentially, " I've a little fancy 
 of my own, that if father had said, ' Now, Edward, my son, I 
 think there's danger of your hurting the horses to-morrow, 
 you had better stay at home,' I have a certain little sister who 
 would have laughed very hard at the bare supposition of such 
 a thing, and who " 
 
 " Nonsensical notions, Ed," returned Mary, with a sly curl 
 at the corner of a very pouting mouth, "you needn't talk 
 about fancies; your fancies are very ridiculous, I can assure 
 you, you silly boy, to go fancying yourself in love ; and with 
 my pretty Kate !" 
 
 A very musical laugh put to flight all traces of the ominous 
 pout, and the lips were just moving again when Edward 
 unceremoniously stopped them with a resonant kiss, and flew 
 off, book in hand, down the walk, calling out behind him, 
 " The rest another time, please, sis, I could not stop now, I'm 
 in such a desperate hurry." 
 
 Edward sauntered very leisurely along undei the trees at 
 the roadside, with a head far more fully occiipied with pretty 
 Kate than he had at all suspected, the occu;- ition in which 
 he believed himself engaged being the repetition :;' the speci- 
 men of eloquence he intended to deliver to his assembled 
 audience in the evening. As he seldom had written anything 
 without her knowledge since his first grand essay upon the
 
 24 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 "Dog," he could not be expected to deliver an oration on the 
 present important occasion without her sanction and approval. 
 So, although he had secret misgivings about the propriety of 
 such a proceeding now that his saucy sister was beginning 
 to imagine such silly things of him, he was just running down 
 to Mr. Weston's before dinner, to rehearse his piece, and see 
 what she w r ould think of it. 
 
 When he reached the door it was standing open, so he 
 walked right in, and knocked at the door of the cosy sitting- 
 room. Kate herself opened it, looking fresh as any rosebud, 
 and not a little surprised at seeing him at such an unusual 
 hour. A mild, pleasant-looking lady in a Quaker dress and 
 cap looked over her spectacles, smiling very - benevolently, 
 and saying, " Well, how does thee do, Edward ? Going a 
 pleasuring, eh ? I'm very glad it is such a fine day, my 
 boy." 
 
 " Are there a great many of you going, Ed ?" said Kate. 
 "I thought it was this morning you started." 
 
 " No, not till afternoon ; too much of a good thing is good 
 for nothing, you know. We are to have a meeting of the 
 Lyceum, too, this evening, and a speech ; and what do you 
 think, Kate, although Ned Waters and Jim Reid are to be 
 there, I was chosen to deliver the speech." 
 
 The young girl's eyes sparkled with pleasure; and her 
 mother, looking quietly up from her sewing, said, "Well, 
 now I don't think that is strange at all. Thou wouldst beat 
 those college chaps in a turn at almost anything, Edward. 
 They pass very well, but they haven't the real genius in them ; 
 now thee knows that as well as I do." 
 
 "But the question is," answered Edward, "have I the 
 genius? Sometimes I really think I have a little of it, but I 
 have to labor so long before I bring anything I write at all up 
 to my idea of the thing, that's all. Genius should come of 
 itself, Auntie." 
 
 Mrs. Wcpton shook her head very decidedly. "You
 
 KATE WESTON. 25 
 
 haven't learned the road to fame yet, my boy. Labor is the 
 lever that moves everything hearts, bodies, and souls. 
 Nothing done without labor. A great many have talents, but 
 it isn't every one that knows how to work them. Toil away, 
 don't get any of these foolish notions into your head, and 
 we'll all be very proud of you some day. Do you hear 
 that? Kate often wishes that you were studying law, so 
 that " 
 
 " O mother," interrupted Kate, blushing, " why do you tell 
 over my silly speeches? I'm sure they are not worth repeat- 
 ing, do you think so, Edward?" She looked up into his face 
 to recover herself, for she knew she was blushing, and so 
 blushed the more ; but he was looking such an evident con- 
 tradiction to her words, that, although trying to look 
 extremely self-possessed, she felt more embarrassed than ever. 
 Her mother, glancing over her spectacles, was conscious of a 
 new idea suddenly flashing across her mind. Something 
 quite foreign to the easy intercourse of childhood, certainly 
 glimmered, for a moment, in Edward's glance, -and Kate's 
 unmanageable blush. She, however, resumed her work as 
 placidly as ever, with just the slightest smile playing about 
 her face, while Edward held out his manuscript, saying 
 
 "Come Kate, you know I want to rehearse my piece, 
 and hear some critic's opinion before I trust myself in 
 public ; let's go out to the grove, and you shall be corrector 
 general." 
 
 Kate ran for her sun-bonnet, and they walked away to- 
 gether, Mrs. Weston looking after them as they disappeared, 
 with a look of peculiar earnestness, and quite a naughty con- 
 fusion of fancies running through her brain. Kate spent a 
 great many cheerful hours in the grove, to which they were 
 hastening. Study, sewing, reading, were all more vigorously 
 carried on out beneath the green trees, where the sun shone, 
 and the birds were singing. Her favorite seat, was upon 
 the borders of a little stream that came jumping along over 
 
 2
 
 26 KATE WESTON. 
 
 a brown rock, forming a miniature waterfall. Here the trees 
 cast a pleasant shadow, and the birds and water sang cheer- 
 ful songs together. 
 
 The young girl sat down upon a rustic bench by the water, 
 while Edward stood at a short distance and went through his 
 speech with as much earnestness and spirit as though he had 
 been addressing a numerous audience. It was quite a matter 
 of course to them. He had rehearsed to Kate for years, ever 
 since he began to rehearse at all, and she always listened and 
 criticised as naturally as his sister would have marked his col- 
 lars, or darned his stockings. 
 
 She sometimes found a little fault, but on the present occa- 
 sion she had nothing but applause to give. Indeed, the piece 
 would have been to other ears than Kate's a perfect little gem 
 of eloquence. Terse, vigorous, and earnest, it bore the evi- 
 dence of no common talent, while the energetic address of 
 the speaker lent an additional charm to the well-written pro- 
 duction. 
 
 " Well, Edward, if you were a lawyer, you would make a 
 judge some day," said Kate, as he sat down beside her. " You 
 may be President yet, who knows ?" 
 
 It was said quite in earnest, as her companion knew by the 
 serious look of the great blue eyes, but he didn't deny it. 
 He gazed at her for a full minute as she sat there so calmly 
 looking into the water, then looked into it too, with a thought- 
 ful, absent look that told he was not thinking of it at 
 all. 
 
 " AM) at are you thinking about ?" said she, suddenly turn- 
 ing towards him. 
 
 " I was wondering," answered he, musingly, " who I should 
 have to rehearse to then. It would be very undignified for a 
 President to rehearse at all, unless it was to somebody 
 that" 
 
 " What a comical idea," laughed Kate, with a quizzical 
 smile. " Maybe you won't be President, after all ! only sec-
 
 KATE WESTON. 27 
 
 retary of state, or something of that sort. Wouldn't that 
 satisfy yoiv?" 
 
 Edward didn't answer her again, nor pay any attention to 
 her bantering, but peered into the water as before. " See 
 here, Kate," said he, at length, drawing her gently over until 
 they could see their faces in the water, " don't you think we 
 make a pretty couple ?" 
 
 His companion drew back while the tell-tale blood rushed 
 to her face, belying her careless tone. " To be sure I do ; you 
 know I always had a pretty good share of vanity on my own 
 account, and as for you, why, I consider you tolerably good- 
 looking ; I believe other people do, don't they ?" 
 
 Edward did not seem to fall in with her jesting humor, nor 
 indeed to notice it at all, but that might have been only pre- 
 tence. " No, but really now, Kate, I have been thinking that 
 I love you more than I love anybody else in the world, and 
 if I should ever be anything or anybody, it would be nothing 
 at all if you didn't talk to me, and encourage me as you do 
 now. And all honor and pleasure and wealth would do me 
 no good unless I could make you happy. Why, I am sure 
 we love each other more than everybody else, why not 
 always, Kate ?" 
 
 This was said so seriously that there was no laughing it 
 off. Kate's heart fluttered very much, and she kept her eyes 
 fixed upon the water. " How can you talk so, Edward, when 
 here we are nothing more than a couple of children ? I really 
 wonder that such a thing should enter your head. Three or 
 four years hence it would be more reasonable, but now " 
 
 She stopped because she could not get any further. Ed- 
 ward read something very pleasant in the downcast eye and 
 failing breath, more pleasant, perhaps, than anything she 
 could have said. 
 
 " To be sure, Katie dear, we are young ; you are not quite 
 sixteen, but I am twenty, although I look so boyish, and I
 
 28 KATE WESTON. 
 
 don't expect we are to run away or anything of that sort, but 
 if we do love one another, we might as well find it out now 
 as ever. 'Tisn't like two meeting one another that haven't 
 grown up together, and played together, and studied together 
 all their lives. 'Tisn't falling in love at all. We've been in 
 love always, and I think it's high time we found it out. Now, 
 I know you love me, Katie dear; just please say so, and I'll 
 make a lawyer, or President, or anything you choose." 
 
 Now Edward had informed her of the same fact a hundred 
 times before, but not in just the same way, and he almost 
 always called her " Katie dear," but somehow it sounded so 
 different now. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't 
 come. She felt very happy, but for all that, poor, silly little 
 Kate ! she finally laid her forehead on Edward's shoulder, 
 and sobbed as though she were hopelessly wretched. 
 
 All this time Mrs. Weston had been sitting, revolving a 
 great many schemes, very agreeable ones, apparently, judging 
 by the peculiarly benignant smile that every little while glowed 
 over her placid brow, and played about her mouth. When Mr. 
 Weston entered, and, as he had always done from the day 
 they were married, gently pressed his lips upon her forehead, 
 she looked so particularly pleased that he said, "" Prithee, 
 what has happened, Rachel 1 Thou hast some cause for 
 rejoicing, I am sure." 
 
 " I don't know," she answered ; " perhaps so ; wait a bit and 
 I will tell thee." 
 
 Uncle Weston, as the whole village called him, was a 
 Quaker of the first water. Nothing had ever been known to 
 provoke him to anger. Taking ever his Redeemer as his 
 pattern, he strove with every power of his soul to walk in His 
 footsteps. Always opposing the wrong, always upholding the 
 right ; firmly, steadily, with a judgment that seldom erred, he 
 was regarded by his neighbors as a sort of oracle to be con- 
 sulted in doubtful cases. Many a quarrel that would have
 
 KATE WESTON. 
 
 made the lawyers chuckle, and impoverished the clients, had 
 been settled by him, to the entire satisfaction of all parties 
 therein concerned. 
 
 As Edward and Kate came sauntering up the path, Mrs. 
 Weston pointed significantly towards them, saying, " There's 
 not an ill-looking pair ; Josiah, dost thou think it ?" 
 
 Her husband turned towards the window and watched them 
 for an instant, then turned about, and looked with a curious, 
 half laughing expression into his wife's face. 
 
 "And what then, Rachel ?" 
 
 " Why, doesn't thee see they can't always be children ?" 
 said she. " See how tall they are." 
 
 " Well, and what then ?" in the same tone as before. 
 
 "Now Josiah," answered his wife, a little piqued at his 
 quizzical manner, " thee needn't pretend not to know what I 
 mean. Thee knows they can't go on so much longer. It'll 
 either have to stop, or else" She turned her mild eyes full 
 upon him with a happy smile that spoke her meaning very, 
 decisively, and he answered accordingly. 
 
 " Rachel, my dear, thou art certainly beside thyself. Surely 
 thou wouldst not think of marrying our Kate already." 
 
 " Not of marrying her already," said Mrs. Weston ; " but 
 thee knows it takes sometime to think beforehand of such a 
 thing as that. Now say, wouldn't it suit thee better to have 
 Edward Clarence for a son-in-law than any young man in our 
 village ?" 
 
 " It would, certainly ; Heaven bless the children," said Mr. 
 Weston, something veiy like a tear glistening in his eye as he 
 watched them coming up the walk. " But, Rachel, how silly 
 we are ; such mere babies half a dozen years hence is time 
 enough to think of such a thing. Pooh, pooh ! how ridicu- 
 lous." 
 
 " Does thee know how old they are now, Josiah ?" said his 
 wife, laying her hand, on his arm. 
 
 " Why, I believe Edward's nineteen or twenty, but Kate's
 
 30 KATE WESTON. 
 
 only fifteen, and they've never done anything but read story- 
 books and play baby-house. No such whim ever troubles 
 them, I'll warrant me." 
 
 " Don't thee believe it ;" answered the lady. " And what 
 canst thou mean by saying that, when Edward is nearly 
 through his profession, and Kate is such a capital little house- 
 keeper 2" 
 
 " Oh well," answered her husband, " it's just because she 
 has played baby-house so much that she is something of a 
 housekeeper. Oh, they're too young, don't speak of it again 
 Rachel, for the credit of thy wisdom." 
 
 " Thou wilt find that housekeeping is a very essential 
 acquirement, in consideration of the matter of which we were 
 speaking. But Josiah," said his wife softly, fixing her clear, 
 loving eyes upon his face, " dost thou remember just how old 
 thou wast when thou put the ring upon my finger, and I pro- 
 mised thee never to remove it till we had joined heart and 
 hand irrevocably for life. I have been thinking since they 
 went out of that moonlight night of thy eighteenth birth- 
 day, when we wept so bitterly at parting, and promised never 
 to marry until thou shouldst come back with enough to buy 
 a little place, and take me for thy own true wife. I don't 
 think that we have ever repented that we plighted our faith 
 so young, and I don't think thou shouldst complain if they 
 go and do likewise." 
 
 This last argument being a decided clincher, Mr. Weston 
 deemed it prudent to content himself with looking affection- 
 ately upon his wife, and humming a tune in an uncler-tone to 
 himself, while Mrs. Weston went back to her chair, laid away 
 her work, and passed out to see about the preparation of 
 dinner
 
 KATE WESTON. 31 
 
 CHAPTER" IV. 
 
 THE afternoon was as pleasant as all parties had expected. 
 At one o'clock a merry party started from the village in a 
 four-horse wagon of very accomodating dimensions. The 
 vehicle in question contained some twelve young men, most 
 of them at that doubtful age that feels mightily insulted at 
 the expression of a shadow of doubt on the question of their 
 manhood. Two or three, however, had evidently a right to 
 turn up their noses at the rest, bestowing upon them the 
 euphonious appellation of "snobs," which they accordingly 
 did upon every convenient opportunity. 
 
 These gentlemen, having arrived at the age of two or three 
 and twenty, and being students at a neighboring college, 
 were usually looked up to as standard authorities on a great 
 many doubtful questions, such as the most approved method 
 of wearing a cravat, the most graceful tip of the hat or swing 
 of the cane, the most genteel manner of cultivating a mous- 
 tache, and numberless other important matters, that they con- 
 sidered pertaining peculiarly to the station of sophomore or 
 junior in an institution of learning. 
 
 As for Edward Clarence, although he felt a considerable 
 contempt for these gentlemen and their acquirements, he 
 cpuld not quite escape the infection so natural to his a'ge, and 
 unconsciously imitated them in many minor particulars, while 
 they, falling in with the current of public opinion, and capti- 
 vated by his pleasing manners, condescended to pronounce 
 him a decided " wunner," a chap that would make something 
 one of these days, if he only cultivated himself a little more, 
 and wouldn't do everything so carelessly.
 
 32 KATE WESTON. 
 
 One member of the party was considerably in advance 
 of all his companions. Mr. Higgins was the gentleman under 
 whose auspices Edward was becoming initiated into the mys- 
 teries of the ./Esculapian art. He had come merely for the 
 sport of fishing the only species of amusement for which he 
 had any taste, and of which he was passionately fond. He 
 was a tall, spare man, with a face that never wore any expres- 
 sion but a most lugubrious smile, to which another's fiercest 
 frown would have seemed quite an agreeable contrast. So 
 pinched and meagre, so forlorn and desolate, one might have 
 fancied him perpetually meditating suicide, had he not always 
 taken such excellent care of his precious health, never start- 
 ing from home without extra coats and shawls enough to 
 smother an ordinary matt, " in case," he said, " a shower 
 should come up, or he should be unavoidably detained after 
 nightfall." The consequence of all this care was a violent 
 fit of fever and ague every two weeks, and the pinched 
 appearance just noticed. 
 
 The back seat was allotted to this gentleman, Edward 
 Clarence, and a bashful boy in a very high collar, with a head 
 projecting very, much as a turtle's would come out of its shell. 
 The young collegians were seated in front, swinging their 
 canes with such tremendous flourishes as were quite detri- 
 mental to the self-possession of the spirited horses, who, every 
 now and then, catching a glimpse of them brandishing in the 
 air, started off at a pace that required considerable skill in 
 the driver to control. 
 
 " Halloa, Dick," cried young Reid, as they came in front of 
 the new saloon, " jutht hold up a minute here. I left an order 
 with Gamp that I want to thtop for. I'll jump out for a 
 thecond. Won't you take a glath of thomething before we 
 thtart, boyth 2" All declined the invitation except the bash- 
 ful boy in the back corner, who blushed as though he was 
 expected to answer for the company, but couldn't summon 
 resolution to speak, and Mr. Reid went in alone.
 
 KATE WESTON. 33 
 
 A minute afterwards he came tripping elegantly back, 
 followed by a boy carrying a basket containing a few bottles 
 packed in straw, and a dozen or two of handsome oranges. 
 As he jumped into his seat again, he turned to his fellow- 
 dandy, exclaiming, " Thith ith at my expenth, you know (the 
 lank man on the back seat smiled graciously at this informa- 
 tion, as he had been half fearful lest a tax should be levied 
 upon the company) ; that man ith a very enterprithing fellow, 
 Alithter Myerth. He kept a thaloon in Catharine threet. I 
 uthed to patronithe him there, now and then. That finely 
 furnished thaloon ith quite an ornament to our village, do you 
 not think tho ?" 
 
 " Certainly," answered his companion, " we shall have chance 
 for a little life now ; sleigh-rides in the winter, and picnics in 
 the summer are nothing unless we can make a little show of 
 something more than bread and butter, and it's always been 
 such a trouble to get anything out here, that somehow we 
 never have any fun at all." 
 
 "Yeth," said Mr. Reid, passing his fingers thoughtfully 
 through his whiskers, " all the boyth rethiding in the village 
 have cauthe for rejoithing, I am sure. You alwayth want 
 thuch a plathe to give thpirit to any thort of thport." 
 
 Here the bashful boy so far forgot his dignity as to frown 
 and shake his head violently several times, but suddenly recol- 
 lecting himself, he looked at every one in the company to se 
 if any one had noticed him, and finding himself unobserved, 
 looked so relieved, that Edward, who was casting a sly glance 
 sidewise, had to bite his lips to keep himself from laughing. 
 He liked the looks of the boy, who, for a short time, was 
 studying with a literary gentleman in the village, and deter- 
 mined, if possible, to scrape acquaintance. 
 
 " Are you much pleased with Laconia ?" he asked ; " almost 
 every one likes it that comes here." 
 
 "Yes sir," answered his companion, "I like it very well." 
 
 " Have you ever visited here before ?" 
 
 2*
 
 34 KATE WESTON. 
 
 "No sir." 
 
 " I think it's about one of the prettiest spots this side the 
 Atlantic," said Edward, glancing at his companion's face. 
 " Look behind you, now ; isn't that beautiful ?" 
 
 The gentleman addressed looked very much afraid to stir, 
 but being thus appe.aled to, turned his head stiffly around, 
 neck, collar and all. The scene they looked upon was indeed 
 very beautiful. The village lay at the foot of the hill whose 
 summit they had just gained, smiling up among the trees. 
 Clouds of smoke curled slowly up in the clear air ; fine man- 
 sions lay, scattered here and there, among the neat white cot- 
 tages, not one of which bore marks of indolence or neglect. 
 
 The three principal churches each stood on a little rising 
 ground, distinctly visible from almost every portion of the 
 valley. Now and then, among the gay autumn foliage, a 
 narrow stream glistened in the sun, while cattle browsed upon 
 its banks, or stretched themselves out in the warm sunshine. 
 All had that cheerful, thrifty appearance that speaks of unusual 
 enterprise and content. 
 
 The bashful boy for a moment forgot his bashfulness and 
 exclaimed eagerly " How beautiful !" as he gazed admiringly 
 upon the landscape lying serenely at his feet. 
 
 Edward watched his sparkling eye, and began to entertain 
 decided hopes of him. " We think we have a very industri- 
 ous set of villagers here, Mr. Steele ?" said he inquiringly. 
 
 The " Mr. Steele " recalled that personage to the remem- 
 brance that he must " hold up his head and speak like a man," 
 so he turned round stiff as ever. 
 
 " Yes sir, I should think so." 
 
 " There are other things too," resumed his companion, " that 
 make me like it very much. We have excellent fishing here, 
 and nutting, and hunting too, at some seasons of the year. 
 A great many visitors come here from New York in the sum 
 mer. Two families among them are friends of ours, Judge 
 Ainslie's and Mr. Dunn's. Indeed, with the latter gentleman's
 
 KATE WESTON. 35 
 
 lively little daughter I carried on quite a flirtation last sum- 
 mer, on brother and sister terms, you know." 
 
 " I know Mr. Dunn very well," ventured his listener. 
 
 " Indeed ?" exclaimed Edward ; " I am going down to New 
 York with him to-morrow. I have a number of little matters 
 to attend to there, and Dr. Higgins will excuse me, I'm sure." 
 He winked confidentially at his companion, thereby encour- 
 aging him wonderfully, as the gentleman referred to turned 
 round, and eying him stoically, replied, 
 
 " You know, Mr. Edward, that no young gentleman pros- 
 pers in the study of medicine unless he treads the mill steadily. 
 I'm afraid you are getting a little neglectful. It'll never do 
 unless you stick to it. Prudence is what you want, sir, a little 
 more prudence." 
 
 "Well," answered Edward, "I believe I do now, that's a 
 fact. Father says so, and you say so, though I can't see it 
 myself; I suppose I am a little reckless. Some day I may get 
 to be as exemplary as Dr. Higgins, who never leaves his office 
 but three times a year, to go a fishing for his breakfast and 
 his health. I can assure you, Dr. Higgins is quite a pattern 
 for us all. Even when he has the ague so badly that he has 
 to lie for half the day on the settee, he will be at his office. 
 Never taking rest, even in illness." 
 
 " Tread* the mill steadily, Mr. Steele, that is my motto," 
 said Dr. Higgins. " Never lose a penny by neglect. I have to 
 be very careful of myself, my health is so poor, but for all 
 that I've sat up night after night many a time in difficult 
 cases. And yet, it isn't a great deal I've been able to scrape 
 together, only a little, a very little." He looked at his com- 
 panions with that same doleful smile, and shook his head 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 Edward took the chance of giving another sly wink at his 
 new friend, who began to think him a very pleasant fellow. 
 " You said you knew Mr. Dunn, I believe," he said. 
 
 "Yes sir."
 
 36 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " He's quite a gentlemanly appearing man." 
 
 " I don't like him at all," said Mr. Steele, shortly. 
 
 " Why not ?" inquired Edward. 
 
 This question requiring an answer longer than he had cour- 
 age to undertake, Mr. Steele merely twirled his thumbs, and 
 answered, " Because I don't." 
 
 Edward left the subject until some more convenient oppor- 
 tunity and joined in the general conversation, which, by this 
 time, was becoming quite animated. 
 
 The great wagon jolted along over the road, the air was 
 clear and inspiriting, the country gay and inviting. Every- 
 thing tended to the enjoyment of the young men, who alter- 
 nately jested, laughed, and sang, with the exception of Mr. 
 Steele, who did not dare, and Mr. Higgins, who did not desire 
 to join in the sport of their companions. 
 
 When they had ridden some six or eight miles, the wagon, 
 after making a sudden curve around the base of a precipitous 
 rock, drew up before the door of a dingy cabin on the bank 
 of the river. Oyster-shells lay scattered along in front of the 
 door, fish-nets were spread upon the grass at a short distance, 
 and boats lay high and dry upon the shore. Over the door a 
 sign hung out, consisting of a piece of weather-stained board, 
 with the inscription in chalk, 
 
 
 
 " BOXES AND BATE HERE." 
 
 The young men jumped out, and Mr. Reid, as spokesman 
 of the party, knocked imperatively at the door with the head 
 of his whalebone cane. An elderly woman made her appear- 
 ance with a very wide-ruffled cap upon her head, and a large 
 ear-trumpet in her hand. 
 
 " Have you any boath to let to-day, my good woman ?" said 
 the young gentleman, with foppish-dignity. 
 
 The old woman didn't say anything, but the moment she 
 saw his lips move, she whisked the huge bowl of her ear- 
 trumpet so close to her questioner's face that it seemed a
 
 KATE WESTON. 37 
 
 dubious question if it was not her intention for him to jump 
 in, and inserting the other end in her ear, stood listening for 
 his orders. 
 
 " Have you any boath to let to-day ?" again inquired the 
 young gentleman, in a somewhat louder tone. 
 
 "Boats to let? Yes. Walk in," she answered shortly, 
 dropping her trumpet, and motioning them to follow her. 
 She turned round, and called shrilly to a stunted man who 
 made his appearance in a red shirt, and a pair of blue cotton 
 pants. Having arranged matters with this worthy gentleman, 
 our friends proceeded to remove their fishing apparatus from 
 the wagon to a rickety boat that had been shoved off by the 
 stunted specimen of humanity before mentioned. 
 
 " Oh ! young gentlemen," exclaimed Dr. Higgins with a 
 doleful shake of the head, " you are not going in that shaky 
 concern. If we escape drowning, it'll be a mercy^p But, at 
 the least, we shall some of us take our death-cold. -Don't 
 you see it leaks through the bottom ? To go in that would 
 be a willful tempting of Providence." 
 
 " First time I ever knew he believed in a Providence at 
 all," remarked Edward in a side whisper to Steele. 
 
 " Never mind, if it makes us all sick, it'll give you business, 
 doctor," said Myers, jocularly. Dr. Higgins's lank figure 
 looked like anything but business, as he cast such deprecating 
 glances upon the leaky boat, which, in spite of him, the young 
 men were making the repository of their treasures. 
 
 " We mutht retholve to take what we can have, if we can't 
 have what we would take ; thee here, doctor, thith'll keep 
 out the chillth," remarked Mr. Reid, swinging his basket of 
 wine into the boat, and stepping cautiously in the glory of 
 newly polished boots across a small pucldte that lay in the 
 centre. 
 
 " Oh, we mustn't mind a drop of water on such expeditions 
 as these," cried Edward, springing lightly in after him.
 
 38 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Come, William, you are a novice at fishing-, you may as well 
 sit by me for the benefit of my skill." 
 
 Young Steele stepped awkwardly upon the seat, as three or 
 four of the party winked at each other in appreciation of his 
 queer collar, while Myers gave the corners of his a com- 
 placent pull, and tossed his head with true dandy noncha- 
 lance. 
 
 The fishing, at this season, was excellent, and the fishermen, 
 with the agreeable prospect of capital sport and well-filled 
 baskets, were in the best spirits possible. The dilapidated 
 state of the boat caused them little annoyance, seeming to be 
 rather enjoyed than otherwise by the greater portion of the 
 company. Dr. Higgins, indeed, lost some of his sport in his 
 constant fear of the water at his feet, and Mr. Reid had some 
 difficulty in concealing his anxiety with regard to his shining 
 boots. At length he bethought himself of an expedient. 
 
 " Harwood, I'll thteer for you," he said, making a cautious 
 move towards the stern. " I'm a firtht-rate pilot." 
 
 "Well, you can have the place and welcome," said his 
 friend, slipping to one side. " I've no great taste for the busi- 
 ness." 
 
 Reid seated himself carefully in the end of the boat, elevat- 
 ing his feet upon the seat, to the no small amusement of 
 Edward Clarence, and the envy of the less politic doctor. 
 When they had reached a suitable place and cast anchor, they 
 commenced operations immediately. The fish nibbled well, 
 tbere were plenty of them, and our party were pretty good 
 fishermen, so that the sport was of the most exciting charac- 
 ter to lovers of the art, in which William Steele alone was an 
 entire novice. 
 
 After two or three hours the anglers began to be satisfied 
 with their acquisitions. Dr. Higgins's grim smile was grim- 
 mer than ever, as he crowded in the last fish that his capa- 
 cious basket could possibly contain, and proceeded to lay
 
 KATE WESTON. 39 
 
 aside his line and fishing-hooks. Young Clarence and Reid 
 had also succeeded to their entire satisfaction. This last 
 young gentleman, having become weary of his constrained 
 position, and feeling that he could never survive the disgrace 
 of making his appearance in the village with muddy boots, 
 had laid aside those articles, placing them with his stockings 
 upon the bench at his side, and stowing his bare feet under 
 tb.eu.seat in close proximity to the water in the boat. Myers 
 w_as, or pretended to be, extremely busy with a kink in his 
 line, and Steele, who, notwithstanding his efforts, had accom- 
 plished very little, continued his operations, feeling quite 
 flushed at the consciousness of a few mischievous smiles that 
 were flying about at his expense. 
 
 At length he felt a sudden jerk at his line, so violent as 
 almost to snap it asunder. " Now then," he thought, " I shall 
 beat them all hollow. Not a bite has there been like this 
 to-day." He pulled hard and fast, and at length gave his 
 prize a sudden, .triumphant swing out of the water, when lo, 
 and behold ! a large black bottle dangled into the boat, 
 greeted with a roar of laughter that sent the blood in torrents 
 to the young man's face. 
 
 " That's some of your work, Myers, I'll be bound," cried 
 the young man sitting next him. " I thought there was no 
 kink in your line. You've been meddling with Reid's cham- 
 pagne." 
 
 " Never mind, Steele," said Edward, pitying his confusion, 
 " I've had the same trick played on me before now. Your 
 hook only happened to get caught in Myers' line, and he's 
 taken advantage of the accident, you see." 
 
 5But the poor fellow did mind very much. He couldn't 
 help minding. Had it been any one else they would have 
 felt mortified. But to him there is no knowing what might 
 have happened, had not the general attention at this moment 
 been diverted by a short shrill cry at the stern of the boat, 
 followed by a splash into the water. Every one started sud-
 
 40 KATE WESTON. 
 
 denly round, only to see a pair of exquisite pants and naked 
 feet performing various pantomimes in the air, in company 
 with a huge crab that evinced a decided affection for the great 
 toe of the left foot, and formed a picturesque ornament to 
 that interesting member. The remainder of the body to 
 which those articles belonged was entirely concealed under 
 the water, notwithstanding the firm grasp of the amphibious 
 gentleman's hand upon the side of the boat. Poor Reid had 
 been so much engaged in laughing at Steele, that he had for- 
 gotten the crabs crawling under ihe seat, and this was the 
 lamentable result. He had saved his boots and lost his 
 head. 
 
 The first thing to be done was to fish him out as speedily 
 as possible, and rub his head dry, a process which seemed 
 highly satisfactory to the young gentleman himself, and, when 
 it was ascertained that no injury had been done, highly 
 amusing to his comrades. They wisely concluded that they 
 had enjoyed sport enough for one day, and turned the boat 
 shoreward, Edward volunteering to act as steersman for the 
 rest of the journey. 
 
 When they had unloaded their boat, they proceeded to re- 
 move the basket of provisions they had brought from the 
 wagon, and to seat themselves upon the grass to partake in a 
 homely manner of an excellent repast. 
 
 Young Reid seized the wine, pouring it out, and passing it 
 with a smirk to each gentleman present. Edward hesitated 
 for a moment as he remembered his father's opposition to the 
 saloon, but, satisfying himself that he could have no objection 
 to wine,when temperately used, took his glass with a smile, 
 and sipped it with all the more relish after his afternoon's 
 task. 
 
 Dr. Higgins very complacently observed that, " it was ex- 
 cellent wine ; never tasted better. Thought Mr. Reid quite a 
 judge." 
 
 Mr. Reid observed that, he " never uthed any but the betht ;
 
 KATE WESTON. 41 
 
 a tip-top article or none at all for him ; he conthidered him- 
 thelf thomething of a judge, thertainly." 
 
 The bashful Mr. Steele alone declined touching anything 
 but water. They urged him to join them, but, although evi- 
 dently alarmed at what might be the result of his temerity, 
 he positively declined ; whereupon Mr. Myers took occasion 
 to remark in an undertone to Mr. Reid that, " he was a green 
 'un," and MP. Reid honored the shirt-collar and the head it 
 contained with a prolonged stare that made poor Steele color 
 up to the roots of his hair, and down to the tips of his 
 fingers. 
 
 " Mithter Clarenth, I believe you are to addreth uth thith 
 evening," remarked Reid. " Pray, upon what thubject do you 
 treat?" 
 
 " The young men of our country," answered he. 
 
 " Ah, yeth," answered his questioner, Avith a patronizing 
 air. " A very good thubject, thertainly, a grand thubject. 
 I intend to choothe that for my own at the necth quarterly. 
 A motht inthpiring theme. Mr. Thteele, do you ever thpeak 
 in public ?" 
 
 " Sometimes, sir," said he, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Pray couldn't you give us a stump speech now," said Mr. 
 Myers, laying his head impressively on one side ; " we ought 
 to have something of the kind." 
 
 The poor fellow looked so frightened, and Myers evidently 
 took such delight in teasing him, that Edward thought it high 
 time to turn the tables, so he called out, " Oh, I have it, I 
 have it, Ned Myers must give us his last oration. Come now, 
 don't make any excuses, we'll have it, won't we boys ?" Some 
 half-dozen seconded this proposal, but Mr. Myers earnestly 
 begged to be excused, declaring that he " could not remember 
 a word of it, hadn't looked at it since," <fec. &c. 
 
 Edward, who, having known him intimately at school, 
 secretly imagined that he had never written it at all, inas- 
 much as he had never been known to compose a page worth
 
 42 KATE WESTON. 
 
 reading in his life, insisted upon it so strenuously, that Myers 
 began to be quite alarmed. 
 
 " Give us a stump speech then," cried Edward, " we'll be 
 satisfied with that." 
 
 The gentleman protested, and insisted, and declared, to an 
 extent that was actually surprising, but at length young 
 Clarence, who was really very much averse to giving pain, 
 even when actually deserved, let him off with a wink at his 
 timid friend, who felt considerably reassured by this tune, and 
 who fully understood the drift of the whole affair. 
 
 At length, having finished their repast, Steele and Clarence 
 walked away, leaving Dr. Higgins taking his sixth glass of 
 wine, and solemnly denouncing all who were so imprudent 
 and improvident as to indulge too freely in that inspiring 
 beverage. 
 
 " Why did you refuse to take the wine ?" said Edward to 
 his companion, as they walked away. 
 
 " Because I'm a teetotaller, and never will be anything else 
 as long as I live," said his companion earnestly. 
 
 Edward was a little surprised at such a decided opinion, 
 but merely remarked, " You must have some peculiar reason 
 for being so earnest, Mr. Steele." 
 
 The championship of Edward had done a great deal towards 
 loosening the tongue of William Steele, so he answered quite 
 naturally, "I have cause enough, Mr. Clarence." 
 
 " Call me Edward, if you please," interrupted his com- 
 panion, " and I shall call you William." 
 
 " Well," said he, " Edward then. When I was a little boy 
 I had a schoolmate whose father died of delirium tremens. 
 I saw him when he died, and he kept on cursing the first 
 glass, and raving about the first temptation. ^ I signed the 
 Temperance Pledge then, and I'll never break it^ if I can help 
 it, to the day of my death." 
 
 " But you don't imagine," said Edward, " that you haven't 
 sense enough to keep from killing yourself. WTiy, you might
 
 KATE WESTON. 43 
 
 take two or three glasses of wine every day of your life, and 
 never die a drunkard. Temperance is necessary even in eat- 
 ing. I would as lief be a drunkard as a glutton." 
 
 " Yes, but there isn't the same temptation to that. There 
 is that, I tell you, in liquor of any kind, that chains the body 
 and soul of those who indulge in it. It's a fire that once 
 kindled, wants fresh fuel every day and every hour. It's a 
 thirst that's never quenched. I'll never get under its power, 
 never." 
 
 Edward was astonished. He looked at Steele, thinking 
 inwardly that the turtle was coming out of his shell, and won- 
 dering how he would look without that astonishing collar. 
 
 They were now rejoined by the rest of the company, where- 
 upon Mr. Steele became suddenly rigid and stiff as ever, 
 keeping always close by Edward, as though it were a mighty 
 comfort to have anybody at hand with whom he could feel 
 quite at ease. , 
 
 It required some expedition for the young men to reach 
 home, and refresh themselves with a thorough ablution and a 
 new toilette in time for the evening Lyceum, where Edward 
 delivered his address to the edification of the public, and the 
 pride of his more immediate friends.
 
 44 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Miss ARAMINTA DUNN reclined at ease upon a richly-covered 
 lounge, with an open letter in her hand. The long parlor 
 bore marks of the wealth and taste of its owner. The softest 
 velvet carpet in the world spread out luxuriantly upon the 
 floor, like a turf scattered full of the loveliest flowers of sum- 
 mer. Silk and lace curtains fell over the windows, supported 
 and looped by cornices and arms of the most exquisite work- 
 manship. Mirrors, reaching from floor to ceiling, gave back 
 the soft light in a softer glow. Pictures, the work of our 
 most eminent artists, were arranged with a view to the best 
 effect. Bronze branches, carved to imitate ieaves and flowers, 
 poured out their jets of light. 
 
 Ornaments of ormolu lay scattered here and there upon 
 the tables. Chairs, elaborately carved, and spreading out 
 their velvet cushions, invited to repose. A splendid clock, 
 that every hour sent a lady riding out from a secret chamber 
 to sound the hour with a silver bell, stood covered with glass 
 upon the mantel. Alabaster figures, bending in graceful atti- 
 tudes, were disposed about the room. Nothing was wanting 
 that money could buy, or the most exacting, taste desire. 
 
 Miss Araminta was not paying the slightest attention to any 
 of the pretty things aboufr her, but lay there, poring over the 
 contents of that open letter. You could easily see that she 
 was one of those pets of fortune to whom nothing had ever 
 been denied. She was not faultlessly beautiful, but all that 
 art and dress could do, heightened the comeliness of the fair 
 face and graceful figure. So delicate, so fragile, as though a
 
 KATE WESTON. 45 
 
 breath might destroy her, and yet so much animation in the 
 curve of the lip, and flash of the eye, that one was instinc- 
 tively drawn to her side, in spite of whatever contempt for 
 doll-faces they might venture to express. 
 
 Mr. Dunn, having been left a widower during the infancy of 
 his daughter, had trusted her almost exclusively to servants, 
 who had instilled into her mind whatever suited their fancy, 
 while her father himself, a devoted man of the world, seldom 
 found fault with the flattery and adulation every one lavished 
 upon her, or with the paramount importance in which gaiety, 
 dress, and show were held by those who instructed her. 
 
 It was not strange that the young lady, surrounded by such 
 influence, should gradually come to be extremely vain and 
 flippant, nor was it strange that her father, although almost 
 idolizing his child, should fail, engrossed as he was in the 
 pursuit of wealth and pleasure, in strengthening those links 
 that bind together the parent and child. He often wondered, 
 Avith uneasiness and chagrin, that she seemed so indifferent to 
 his absence, never reflecting that all through her life he had 
 left her night after night in quest of pleasure. 
 
 It was not particularly unnatural, that as soon as she was 
 old enough to be his companion in the fashionable world, she 
 should choose other associates than her father, or that while 
 he was playing whist at the card-table, or drinking Madeira 
 in the supper-room, she should polk and schottisch with the 
 fine moustaches and Spanish-looking eyes in the parlor. 
 
 The letter she held in her hand was from her accepted 
 lover, a Southern gentleman whom she had met at a private 
 ball, the handsomest and most amusing gentleman, she 
 thought, she had ever seen. It would have been difficult to 
 say whether the young lady was most in love with the unex- 
 ceptionable cut of his coat, or the orange groves and spacious 
 halls of his Southern inheritance, for both had certainly much 
 to do with the matter. She had, however, determined to 
 marry him with or without her father's consent, which he had
 
 46 KATE WESTON. 
 
 decidedly refused, threatening to disinherit her for ever if she 
 'disregarded his commands. Like all other spoilt beauties, she 
 was extremely willful, judging that herself was the proper 
 arbiter of her own affections, so the next night had been 
 appointed for their elopement. 
 
 She hastily crumpled the paper into her pocket as she 
 heard her father's ring at the door. 
 
 "Well, Minnie, you see I am here in time, and have 
 brought your old friend with me," said Mr. Dunn, saluting 
 his daughter with a kiss. 
 
 The young lady stepped forward, delicately extending the 
 tips of her fingers to Edward Clarence. 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Dunn," said Edward cordially ; " I am 
 delighted to see you looking so well. City air hasn't injured 
 you yet." 
 
 "Not at all," she answered, putting. on some airs, that 
 somehow seem indigenous to freshly blown young ladyism. "I 
 think I am better now .that I have resumed my old habits 
 again. I am getting quite dissipated, I can assure you." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Edward ; "I am sorry to hear that. Dis- 
 sipation in young men is bad enough, but in young ladies it 
 is ruinous. What have you been doing ?" 
 
 " Nothing at all," answered the lady, with a slight shake 
 of her head, " nothing but going to the opera one night, to a 
 party the next, and having a reception the next, ever since 
 I came from Laconia. You saucy fellow, how dare vou 
 express so free an opinion to a lady ?" 
 
 " You know," he answered, " I always say precisely what 
 I think, and that is more than you expect after listening to 
 the compliments of your city gentlemen. Don't try to. bo 
 angry, for I see through it all so plainly that it will do no 
 good. But I had almost forgotten, Molly sent you a bouquet 
 of late dahlias. Excuse me, I will step into the hall for 
 them." 
 
 Araminta was "perfectly charmed," thought the flowers
 
 KATE WESTON. 47 
 
 " divine," and wished so much she could see dear little Molly, 
 she had a great secret for her. 
 
 "You have- a new dress of the finest china crape for your 
 next party ; can't I guess a secret now ?" 
 
 Arami'nta smiled and shook her head, thinking to herself 
 how much more important an article a husband must be than 
 a new crape dress, and wondering what her country friend 
 would say if she only knew it. 
 
 " That reminds me," exclaimed she, " we are to have a 
 party here to-morrow evening, and you must stay till it's over. 
 I have sent invitations to the prettiest young ladies in the 
 city. Maybe you'll lose your heart to some of them. By 
 the way, how is Kate Weston ?" added she, turning suddenly 
 round, and looking in his face. 
 
 " Quite well, I believe," he answered, with a vain attempt 
 at indifference, " was the last time I saw her." 
 
 "Which was the last thing before you came away, of 
 course," said Miss Dunn, highly delighted at his confusion. 
 " But here comes the tea, I wonder where Father can be 
 staying." 
 
 Mr. Dunn had merely stepped up to his library to lay aside 
 some important papers he. had brought home, but soon reap- 
 peared, and seated himself leisurely at the table. His daughter 
 looked earnestly in his face, as he sat there with silvered hair 
 and anxious brow, and it would be unjust to her to say that 
 she felt no pang at the thought of that father's sorrow when 
 he should find her gone. But then she reflected that he would 
 forget both sorrow and displeasure soon. What rational 
 objection could he have to Adolphus Marteau ? She knew 
 her own heart better than her father, and his ideas about her 
 lover were utterly false. Who could think him insincere 
 with that full dark eye gazing so calmly into theirs, or who 
 could for a moment doubt his pretensions to aristocracy, 
 with that elegant air marking him indubitably as one of the
 
 > 
 
 48 KATE WESTON. 
 
 When the supper was brought in, Mr. Dunn ordered the 
 waiter to bring him a little rare old wine from the cellar, 
 "some," added he, turning to Edward, "that was imported 
 in '32. The rarest I have ever tasted." 
 
 " You must excuse me, if you please," said his young guest, 
 bowing, " I prefer taking none to-night." 
 
 "Why surely," answered Mr. Dunn, with a slight smile of 
 ridicule playing over his face, " you are not going in for tee- 
 totalism. I hope you are not such a fool as that, my boy." 
 
 " No, I don't know that I advocate that, though I do think 
 it a question whether it's not as good a principle as was ever 
 carried out. My father thinks so, at any rate." 
 
 " Tut tut nonsense ; why, according to that I should be 
 a wretch worthy of contempt and banishment, and the Lord 
 knows what. My opinion is just this, that all those people 
 are making desperate fools of themselves, and will have to 
 hide their diminished heads after a couple of years. To 
 think: of condemning a man for selling or drinking wine. I'd 
 much rather go without my breakfast than my glass of toddy> 
 and if I drink it myself, I'm sure I'd allow the same privilege 
 to my poorer neighbors." 
 
 Edward shook his head with a dubious smile. " I have 
 known some excellent men who were teetotallers, my father 
 among the number, and I have a fancy that way myself." 
 
 " Edward," exclaimed Mr. Dunn, " there's no knowing where 
 it will end when such a fine fellow as you twists such fanati- 
 cal notions into his head. Depend on it, 'twill injure your 
 prospects in life. Nobody likes to see a young man so illi- 
 beral. He is always set down as one of the ' holier than thou ' 
 sort of people that every body is anxious to avoid." 
 
 " You seemed to be anxious for our benefit, when you sent 
 Mr. Gamp to our village," said Edward, not knowing exactly 
 Low to answer the last appeal ; " if you could hear what my 
 father says of his establishment, I'm afraid I should be out of 
 favor altogether."
 
 KATE WESTON. 49 
 
 At this moment the waiter set the wine upon the table, 
 and Mr. Dunn, pouring out a glass, handed it to the y&ung 
 man, begging him to try it, just try it, nothing more. 
 
 It was difficult to decline so pressing a request, so Edward 
 took it, with his thoughts reverting to the headache that had 
 been the consequence of last night's indulgence. 
 
 " You don't intend to say that you are not going to patron- 
 ize Gamp at all ?" asked Mr. Dunn. 
 
 I may take a little cream or oysters now and then, or even 
 an odd glass of wine, but for all that, I think his entree will 
 be a great injury to pur village. I don't like his looks either ; 
 I'd venture to say he has had a hand in some black affair or 
 other in the course of his life. I noted him well when a 
 party of us dropped in after the Lyceum last night." 
 
 His listener bent his head quite low over his plate, but 
 Edward could see a shadow pass across his forehead, so drop- 
 ping the subject, he commenced a lively chat with Miss 
 Araminta, who alternately sipped her wine and nibbled her 
 cake, very much as a canary bird would have regaled him- 
 self on sugar and water. 
 
 The waiter, having occasion to descend to the kitchen for 
 some trivial article, informed the company then and there 
 assembled, that " Tim Gamp, what shut up in Catharine street, 
 had been and sot up business in Laconia, and that he was 
 mighty glad on't, cause he never could get a drop o' nothin' 
 when he was a stayin' out there in that oncivilized place." 
 
 He did not stay to notice the effect of his observation, 
 which created a very sudden and violent commotion. 
 
 " Faith, an' its the Evil One hisself that's been afther send- 
 ing him out there," cried the jolly-looking laundress, who sat 
 comfortably warrding her feet at the fire. " In my opinion, 
 all the rumsellers ought to be clapped into jail till they come 
 a little to their senses." 
 
 " Hush, Biddy girl, I never heard nothing like you," said 
 the cook, stopping short, with the tea-pot in one hand, and 
 
 3
 
 50 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 the knife-basket in the other. "Can't you remember that 
 Mr. Dunn himself is a dealer ?" 
 
 "I can't help it, Ann," was the emphatic retort; "if 
 me own father was a daler in that same, I'd say he had 
 niver a bit of business to be murdhering a man, an' dhriving 
 the sowl out iv him intirely. Och ! Teddy, darlint, I thrimble 
 for ye !" 
 
 Ann merely answered with a slight shrug of the shoulders, 
 intended to intimate that she wouldn't be so bold for the 
 world, but her husband, who was an inveterate stutterer, and 
 who had been snoring in the corner, raised his head sud- 
 denly, stammering out, " N n n now wh wh what are 
 you tr t t tr trembling over, Biddy ?" 
 
 " Thrimbling is it I said ?" exclaimed she, " thrimbling ! 
 It's a killing iv meself I'll be, if Teddy gets into bad ways 
 agin. Sure but it would break my heart to say them poor 
 childher in the throuble they was in afore. Och, sorra's the 
 day that iver that child o' Satan opened his rum-shop in 
 Laconia !" 
 
 " J -j just c c co comfort yourself, Biddy," answered 
 the coachman ; " t t tain't at all likely he'll t t turn out 
 bad again. He's had enough." 
 
 " Well thin," she rejoined, " an' I hope he has, an' it isn't 
 Bridget Toole that would be saying anything conthrary, an' 
 accusing her own brother iv things he'd niver do, only there's 
 no telling ; when the dhrink's once afore his nose, he can't 
 kape hisself from tasting it. An' me rejoicing so at the being 
 so sure he'd niver git a chance at it agin !" 
 
 " Well now," said the cook, " I always told you not to let 
 him away from you ; he'd be not a bit better off there than 
 here. If a man's got a mind to be a rascal*" 
 
 " Now," cried Miss Bridget angrily, " if anybody dares to 
 say that same o' the brother that's been the life o' my heart 
 for twinty year an' more, iver since we set foot on the sile of 
 Ameriky ! An' wasn't he the best-natured, and the honestest,
 
 KATE WESTON. 51 
 
 an' the lovinest lad on airth, till the crathur destroyed him 
 intirely ? An' when meself once put it in his head to lave 
 all his throubles and thrials behind him, an' go where he 
 could git niver a dhrop o' the nasty, hateful, bastely, murdher- 
 ing stuff, didn't he mind me ?" And isn't it hisself that's the 
 stiddiest, industrisest husband an' father in all Laconia ?" 
 
 " But what made him drink at all, then ?" said the cook. 
 " It didn't pour itself down his throat. I've got no patience 
 with these silly chaps that can't let the fire alone, when they 
 know it burns them. I " 
 
 " Och," interrupted Biddy, " but you lay the blame at the 
 wrong door thin, an' I'll stan' up for Teddy as long as I live, 
 that he'd never kape a shop to sell rum till the manest crathur 
 upon airth. An' how is a poor, good-natured boy like him to 
 kape out o' danger ? He'd a'most thry to swim acrost the say, 
 if any spalpeen was baste enough to ax him, and how's he to 
 help dhrinking, when there's some dirty varmint of a Dutch- 
 man on every corner, a winkin' an' a bliukin', jest like a sar- 
 pint Avaiting to devour. Och, but Ameriky's a glorious place 
 if they would dhrive away the crathur ! If St. Patrick wasn't 
 clane gone intirely now ! Many's the time I've cried all night 
 long, a wishing an' a wishing that he'd jist step down an' dhrive 
 all the speqits, rum, an' gin, an' brandy, an' whisky, out 
 an' out of Ameriky, as he dhrove the sarpfnts out of Ire- 
 land !" 
 
 " M m may as well take it easy," stuttered the coach- 
 man. " D d don't believe he'll get t t tipsy again." 
 
 " Niver a bit do I vex meself for nothing," answered Biddy. 
 " They kape a talking an' a talking about old maids, an' a 
 saying that it be's so bad for the timper, but I don't belave 
 that same at all, at all, for there's niver a married woman I 
 know, that's raaly as happy as Biddy Toole, if they'd only be 
 afther letting her baby alone." 
 
 The baby referred to, being a man of thirty with a wife 
 and some half-dozen children, the cook winked at the coach-
 
 52 KATE WESTON. 
 
 man, and the coachman, dropping back upon his couch 
 grunted at the cook, while Biddy, sitting bolt upright, folded 
 her brawny arms, and looked, with her broad face a little 
 .cloudier than usual, but yet with an expression of complacent 
 satisfaction, straight into the fire. 
 
 Now it so happened, that while all these matters were being 
 discussed in parlor and kitchen, a little weary barefoot girl 
 stood shivering on the side-walk, taking a survey of the pre- 
 mises, now standing on tiptoe to gaze between the curtains 
 at the beautiful things in the parlor, now stooping with wist- 
 ful eyes to see the comfortable fire in the kitchen, where the 
 servants seemed enjoying such a cosy chat among them- 
 selves. 
 
 Then the little girl sat down upon the carriage step before 
 the door to rest herself, and leaned her head upon her hand. 
 She was thinking, poor child, if she could only stretch herself 
 down upon that dry floor, and sleep till morning. How plea- 
 sant and motherly that great comfortable-looking woman 
 must be, sitting so straight in the chair by the fire. How 
 cosily that man settled himself to sleep in the dark corner 
 beyond. How delicious that bread and butter and meat 
 looked, as the other woman stowed them, away in the closet. 
 How hungry and tired she did feel ! 
 
 But she must go home. That was no place for her. She 
 wondered whether the watchman would let her sleep on a 
 bench in the Parade-ground. No, she was almost afraid to 
 do that, but her cellar was so damp, and cold, and dark, she 
 thought she would rather venture it. Why had they turned 
 her out of her place when she had tried so hard to please 
 them ? Why must she wander about the streets, homeless 
 and friendless, when others rolled all day in their beautiful 
 carriages, and slept all night on beds of down ? Why had 
 her mother sent her to school, and kept her neat and clean so 
 long, while she scarcely spoke to her, and left her alone for days 
 together ? Why had she put her away from her to a strange
 
 KATE WESTOX. 53 
 
 place, and never come near her for a year ? And why did 
 she come at last, one night, pale and thin, and cry over her, 
 and kiss her, and go away again, telling her that she could 
 never see her more ? It was very strange. 
 
 And then her mistress had turned her away without her 
 knowing why. She had washed the sidewalk, and run of 
 errands, and taken care of the baby, and done everything she 
 was expected to do, and nobody had found fault with her. 
 Where could her mother be ? She had gone to their old lodg- 
 ing, but nobody knew anything about her, and then she had 
 paid the woman in the basement her last shilling for letting 
 her sleep a few nights on the floor. How nice that fire 
 looked ! 
 
 Then she thought maybe that pleasant woman would pity 
 her, and let her sleep there. No, it was no use ; that was not 
 the mistress of the house, and she wouldn't ask. If they 
 only knew now, just how she felt, and would believe her story. 
 She had wandered from'house to house, being driven rudely 
 away, or unnoticed entirely, until she thought she would have 
 to die soon, and almost wished she could. If she could put 
 her trust in God, as her teacher had told her once, perhaps 
 she could die easier. She didn't know. 
 
 She might have been some twelve years of age, or maybe 
 a little older ; thin and sallow, with great brown eyes, and a 
 profusion of dark, untended curls blowing out from beneath 
 the tattered sun-bonnet. Her neck and face were red with 
 cold ; her delicate feet were blistered with her weary journey, 
 and her light dress but miserably warded off the chilly even- 
 ing blast. 
 
 So the poor little girl sat there on that dark October night, 
 utterly wretched and hopeless, while men hurried by to happy 
 homes and cheerful firesides, where wives and mothers and 
 children were waiting their return, and boards heaped with 
 plenty were spread temptingly within. "While the carriage 
 of the belle whirled by towards some scene of triumph, and
 
 54 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the beautiful girl within, cast through the darkness a passing 
 glance at the heartsick wanderer without. While the great 
 house on the corner, glowing with light from garret to cellar, 
 threw open its doors to the satin-slippered child of fashion, 
 tripping haughtily in the consciousness of unquestionable ton 
 through the mazy waltz or less-inspiring quadrille. While 
 men and women, with hearts where God had planted tender- 
 ness, and love, and pity, settled themselves complacently in 
 luxurious Voltaires, with that living sermon on their neglected 
 duties weeping at their very doors. 
 
 And such as her, wandering through every highway of our 
 proud city, struggling against scorn, neglect and oppression, 
 suffering hunger and cold, and dying in airless rooms and 
 mildewed cellars of starvation and neglect. 
 
 As the large woman drew her feet from the fire, a sudden 
 impulse seized the child. She started to her feet, and ran 
 hurriedly down the basement steps. 
 
 " What's that 2" said .the cook, as the child's figure flitted 
 by the basement window. " There's a rap at the door, 
 Thomas." 
 
 "I'll go," cried Biddy, casting a glance at the snoring 
 coachman ; " sure I'm niver a bit afeard in me own house, an' 
 if ye weren't a coward, ye wouldn't be ayther." 
 
 " Won't you please give me a piece of bread ?" said a sweet 
 childish voice from the dark area ; " I'm very hungry." 
 
 " Jist come in, darlint, an' let us get a sight of ye, ye've 
 got a swate way o' spaking, anyhow." So saying, Biddy 
 opened the door wide, and the child, eying her timidly, sidled 
 into the hall. 
 
 " Why need you trouble yourself to bring in all the beg- 
 gars out o' the streets ?" said the cook, as Biddy ushered her 
 protegee into the room. " I never saw nobody like you." 
 
 The child looked at her protectress, thinking it was a pity 
 there wasn't somebody like her, and Biddy answered, " Sure 
 now, ye wouldn't be afther dhriving such a wee thing as
 
 KATE WESTON. 55 
 
 that away from your door, widout giving her a bit of bread 
 when she axed it. Och, but ye never had childher o' yer own, 
 an' poor soul, how should ye know ?" 
 
 " You've had so many yourself, Biddy," answered that lady 
 contemptuously, "that you know a sight more nor I. I've 
 seen enough o' the little impostors that run about the streets 
 lying and begging, and stealing, too, when they get a good 
 chance. Don't talk to me, I know I know." 
 
 This was said with, a dignified toss of the head and wave 
 of the hand, intended to indicate that she knew more than 
 her companion was capable of comprehending. Biddy only 
 smiled, and drew the little girl to a seat by the fire, saying, 
 " Now Ann, won't you plaze til lave me to meself, and let me 
 do as I like, so long as I don't hurt you. Where did you 
 come out of, my little girl." 
 
 " I came out of a cellar in Laurens street," answered she. 
 " It's a dreadful place." 
 
 " And how did ye iver come til git there ?" asked Biddy. 
 
 " Why, I was sent away from my place, and couldn't get 
 another, because I couldn't show a recommendation. Every- 
 body said I told falsehoods, and wouldn't try to help me." 
 
 " Where are your father and mother ?" asked the cook. 
 
 " I havn't any father, and I can't tell where my mother's 
 gone ; she went away from me before I went to my place, and 
 I never saw her but once since." 
 
 " Oh, a likely story," cried the cook ; " haven't I heard all 
 sorts of 'em, and aVt they all pretty much the same thing ? If 
 you are fool enough to believe her, I an't." 
 
 " Well, poor thing," interposed Biddy, " you are tired 
 enough til rest yourself a bit. What happened til you to be 
 turned out o' your place ?" 
 
 " I don't know," answered the girl ; " I tried hard to do 
 everything, and they just called me ill names, and sent me 
 away." 
 
 The cook raised both hands, and opened both eyes at this
 
 56 KATE WESTON. 
 
 rare piece of audacity, while Biddy asked. " And didn't you 
 git your wages ? What did you do wid them ? Sure they 
 didn't kape them from you." 
 
 "I didn't get anything, ma'am, but my clothes, and an odd 
 shilling now and then. I paid all I had to a woman for let- 
 ting me sleep on her floor, and that's where I'm going now, 
 only I'm so hungry." 
 
 " Faith now, and aren't ye ashamed to let a poor thing go 
 away from ye, and her only axing a bit o' bread ? Ameriky's 
 a glorious counthry, but there's sorra a bit of compassion in 
 some of your silfish sowls." As Biddy spoke, she walked 
 towards the cupboard, and took therefrom a large piece of 
 bread, some butter, and a bit of cheese, then, turning to the 
 cook, she said, "Come now, can't ye jist show a body that it's 
 yerself can be a little gracious, and be afther gitting a bit of 
 the cold mate ye set away in the safe." 
 
 The opinion Miss Biddy evidently entertained of her selfish- 
 ness, by no means tending to render her "gracious," she 
 answered shortly, " Not a bit of it does she get, the little 
 wretch. Don't I know she's telling me lies as fast as she can 
 speak, an' don't I see her mother waiting out on the sidewalk 
 for her this very minute ?" 
 
 The little girl cast an involuntary glance towards the win- 
 dow. A female figure stood leaning against the railing, with 
 her face veiled, and the gas-light from the sidewalk shining 
 full upon her form. 
 
 " It is my mother !" cried the child, dashing for the door, 
 with a wild look upon her face that was easily mistaken for 
 fear, and hurrying into the hall. 
 
 " Not so fast," said the cook, grasping her roughly by the 
 arm, " I want to know where your mother is now ? Thomas, 
 Thomas." 
 
 The tone and manner frightened the child more than the 
 words, and she burst out crying, calling ' : Mother Mother," 
 while the sleepy coachman, thus appealed to by his wife, raised
 
 KATE WESTON. 57 
 
 himself up, scratching his head, and grumbling "Wh-wh-what 
 the d-d-deuce is all this noise about ? C-c-can't ye leave a 
 feller alone ?" 
 
 At this moment the parlor door opened, and Mr. Dunn 
 called over the stairs, " What confusion is that, Ann ? Who's 
 calling ' mother ' so loud ?" 
 
 " Please, sir, it's a little liar, that Biddy's brought in from 
 the street, and I'm holding onto her for a minute." 
 
 "Just bring her up here, and I'll lecture her. These con- 
 founded beggars thumping at the door every hour in the day." 
 
 It didn't occur to the gentleman to ask himself how many 
 of the trade it was his business each year to turn upon the 
 streets, although, if the record were kept faithfully in Heaven, 
 their names were neither few nor far between. 
 
 Ann pushed the sobbing child before her up the stairs, 
 while Bridget followed in her wake, and Thomas, sinking back 
 upon his lounge, muttered to himself that it was c-c-co-con- 
 founded p-p-provoking to have a young w-w-wagabon' a' 
 waking on him up." 
 
 As Mr. Dunn looked at the culprit, Edward, who was stand- 
 ing in the doorway, noticed the same shadow that he had 
 seen once before that evening flit suddenly over his face. For 
 some reason or other, he neither " lectured " the child, nor 
 censured Bridget, simply asking why she came to be out so 
 late. But thai was not strange. Few persons of any dis- 
 cernment could look at the young, sad face, and not feel that 
 her lot,- be what it might, was a hard one. Young Clarence 
 thought so as he watched the great tears falling upon her 
 tattered dress, and he stepped forward into the hall. 
 
 "Let me go to my mother," cried she. " Oh dear, I'm sure 
 she will be gone, and she doesn't know I am here." She 
 burst out in fresh sobs to the apparent gratification of the 
 cook, and discomfiture of the laundress, who looked indignantly 
 upon the whole company, inwardly condemning what she con- 
 sidered their undisguised cruelty and injustice. 
 
 3*
 
 58 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Do you pretend to say that you did not know your mother 
 was outside ?" asked Mr. Dunn, casting a troubled glance 
 towards the child. 
 
 " I never knew a word of it ; I didn't indeed, sir ;" cried she, 
 " won't you please let me go to her ?" 
 
 Edward stepped to the door with a vague idea that her 
 story might be true, although it certainly appeared quite 
 improbable. The figure was just starting from the walk, when 
 he called out, " Here, my good woman, your daughter's crying 
 for you." 
 
 She turned suddenly round, and .fixed upon him a gaze of 
 fierce scrutiny through her heavy vail, then, seemingly satisfied 
 with her observation, stepped up to the door, and looked into 
 the hall. 
 
 " Mother ! mother !" cried the child, springing towards her, 
 "where have you been all this time? I thought I should 
 die." 
 
 For a moment the dark eyes beneath the vail were riveted 
 on Mr. Dunn, then the head was turned so that he could not 
 see her face, while she merely took the hand of her daughter, 
 saying, " Come away, child, I didn't Enow where to find you," 
 and turning away, drew her down the steps, and out into the 
 street. 
 
 The party in the hall were too much astonished to follow, 
 but Edward, as though struck with a sudden fancy, came 
 out after her. "Here, wait a minute, I want to speak to 
 you." 
 
 The woman came back, and stood at the foot of the steps, 
 with her face turned partly away, with an air of some impa- 
 tience, as though anxious to be gone. 
 
 " lias your daughter been with you to-day ?" 
 
 " No, sir," with utter indifference. 
 
 " Didn't you know she was here ?" 
 
 " No, sir," in the same tone as before. 
 
 " Did you say you hadn't seen her at all ?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 59 
 
 " Not to-day," a little impatiently. 
 
 " And can't she work at anything to keep her out of the 
 streets ?" 
 
 " To be sure she can, and has ; and if people hadn't hearts 
 like stones, she wouldn't have been here to-night." This 
 with a little quick stamp of her foot upon the pavement. 
 
 " Tell me your story, my good woman," said Edward, con- 
 siderably interested in the strange couple. " I have a sister 
 who has commissioned me to find a girl of that age to tend 
 her baby, and if she can obtain a recommendation, I may try 
 her." 
 
 " The woman looked eagerly up into the handsome, manly 
 face, then turned her own quickly away, saying, " If you 
 would come, sir, to-morrow, to see me if you would, 
 sir" 
 
 " Well, then, I will," said Edward, " upon my word. Where 
 do you live ?" 
 
 She whispered a moment to the child, and answered, " At 
 Laurens street, sir, in the basement." 
 
 " And who shall I ask for ?" said he. 
 
 She hesitated a moment, then answered, still averting 
 her face, " Ask for Sarah Collins, sir," and walked quickly 
 away. 
 
 Mr. Dunn drew a long sigh of relief, the cook turned up 
 her nose and puckered up her mouth, Biddy surveyed the 
 party with a complacent smile, and Miss Araminta retreated 
 into the parlor, thinking to herself that it was not strange for 
 Mr. Clarence to make such an appointment, knowing so little 
 as he did about the ways of the city, and " after all, he was 
 only a farmer's son." 
 
 u What did the child tell you ?" said Edward, closing the 
 street door, and turning to the servants. 
 
 " Why, she told us a pack of lies, sir," said Ann, tossing 
 her head, " about being in a place, and not seeing her mother 
 for a year, and getting turned off for nothing at all, and
 
 60 KATE WESTON. 
 
 being abused into the bargain. And said she hadn't seen her 
 mother since, the little hussy, when the woman only said her- 
 self, she hadn't seen her before to-day." 
 
 " Och, sir," cried Biddy, glancing indignantly at the cook, 
 " but the little sowl was half dead wid the hunger and fatague, 
 an' niver a body but could aisy say that same, barrin' they 
 hadn't Christian hearts in their bodies. Whin she sated her- 
 self at the fire, she seemed starvin' intirely wid the cold, but 
 she got sprighted up a bit, whin she was afther gitting warm, 
 sir." 
 
 Ann, who was mightily provoked at the turn affairs had 
 taken, stalked by her complacent companion with an air of 
 the most emphatic contempt, muttering something about 
 "Paddies," and "simpletons," and "impertinence," the drift 
 of which Biddy neither caught nor cared for, while Edward 
 and his host went to join Miss Minnie in the parlor." 
 
 When the .mother left the door, she walked hurriedly on, 
 still grasping the hand of the child, and not speaking a word 
 till they were in a narrow, lonely street where nobody was 
 passing. Then she sat down on a step, and drew the child to 
 her bosom, sobbing and quivering till the little girl was actu- 
 ally frightened. " Mother, what is the matter ? Please don't 
 cry so ; and I'm so glad you've found me. I Avas almost 
 starved," she sobbed, putting her arms about her mother's 
 neck. " I'm very hungry now." 
 
 " If you had starved at his door !" The woman twitched 
 her head nervously, and lifting her child in her arms, hurried 
 on to the nearest bakery. The array of biscuit and cake 
 looked very tempting to little Maggie, as the mother drew the 
 vail closely over her face, and left her to enter the store. 
 When she returned, she thrust a large bun into the hand of 
 the child, and, drawing her again into a retired place, took 
 her upon her lap, and watched her as she ate, while burning 
 tears rolled down the mother's cheeks, and more burning 
 drops were seething in her heart.
 
 KATE WESTON. - 61 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Edward Clarence visited the place designated, in 
 Laurens street, on the following day, he found the little girl 
 neatly dressed, with her hair smoothly combed and curled, 
 and a new pair of shoes upon her feet. He had been think- 
 ing all day of the singular circumstances under which they 
 had visited the house on the previous evening, and his interest 
 was not at all lessened at seeing her thus metamorphosed into 
 a very interesting, dark-eyed child, with waving curls, and a 
 face that bore the impress of a thoughtful, earnest soul 
 within. 
 
 Her mother was not there when he first entered, so he 
 commenced a conversation with the child, inquiring of her 
 with regard to her former life, what she was capable of doing, 
 and endeavoring to ascertain if it would be expedient for him 
 to take her out to his sister. She answered him with a sim- 
 plicity that quite convinced him of her truthfulness, telling 
 the same story that she had told Biddy on the previous 
 evening. Still, it was unaccountable, the fact of her having 
 been turned from her place, for she knew not what, and that 
 when. she had always endeavored to do her duty. It was 
 hardly safe, either, to pick up a child out of the streets, with- 
 out any recommendation.. But then, he reflected, if she were 
 hardened and unprincipled, she would have concealed the 
 truth from him with regard to their sending her away in such 
 a disgraceful manner. 
 
 He watched her narrowly as she answered his questions ;
 
 62 KATE WKSTON. 
 
 but could not catch the slightest indication or consciousness 
 of guilt. 
 
 " Haven't you any one to whom you could apply for refer- 
 ence, child ?" said he. 
 
 " I don't know of anybody, sir. Nobody knows me but 
 them." 
 
 " And where is your mother ? She was to be here, too." 
 
 " She said, I had better see you first." 
 
 " Isn't she coming at all then ?" said Edward, a little sur- 
 prised. 
 
 The child hesitated, and looked timidly into his face. 
 
 " Come now," said he, beginning to suspect some double- 
 dealing, " what did she tell you to say ?" 
 
 " Why sir," she answered reluctantly, " she told me to tell 
 you to please try me, but she would rather you" Here she 
 hesitated again, and turned quite red. 
 
 "Would rather what?" said he, quite astonished. 
 
 "Why she didn't like much, that is, she thought," 
 stammered the child. 
 
 " Thought what, child ?" cried he, with a little impatience. 
 " Speak out, don't be afraid. I shall be a great deal more 
 likely to take you, if you tell me the whole truth." 
 
 " Thought she had better not see you, but she didn't want 
 me to tell you that, Oh dear, what shall I do ?" Here the 
 little girl burst into tears, and put her hands up to her face. 
 
 " Are you afraid she will whip you ?" said he, still more 
 astonished. 
 
 " Oh no, sir !" cried the child, sobbing violently, " she never 
 does that." 
 
 " Well, what are you crying for then ?" 
 
 " She said that if I told you that, you wouldn't take me ; 
 but I couldn't help it Oh dear Oh dear !" 
 
 " Can't she take care of you, then ? She has brought you 
 plenty of good clothes in a very short time. I don't under- 
 stand it."
 
 KATE WESTON. 63 
 
 " Oh no, sir," sobbed the child ; " won't you please take me ; 
 I will be so good please try me, just please." 
 
 " Why can't she take care of you ?" asked Edward. "Can't 
 she work ?" 
 
 " Oh, it isn't that, sir," was her answer. " I don't know why, 
 she didn't tell me, but she can't, she said she couldn't. Indeed 
 she cavHt, anyhow. Please try me." 
 
 This was said so appealingly, that Edward's curiosity and 
 interest were raised to the highest pitch. He sat thinking for 
 some minutes, then turned to the child and asked her the 
 residence of her late employer. "Tell me, my little girl, 
 said he soothingly, as she continued sobbing, "and if they 
 have done you injustice, it shall make no difference with me. 
 I will go and see them, and come again to let you know the 
 result." 
 
 As he spoke, he rose from his chair, when a small door at 
 the back of the room opened, and a woman rushed towards 
 him. He knew by the figure that it was the same he had 
 seen on the previous evening, but the face ! Bloated, hag- 
 gard, bearing the mark of intemperance and guilt. Eyes wild 
 and fierce, forehead seamed with the impress of grief and dis- 
 sipation, and a restlessness in every motion that told too 
 plainly of peace destroyed for ever. She stood up before her 
 visitor with those great dark eyes fixed upon him, her breath 
 coming and going, while she, apparently, possessed no power 
 to speak. He began to doubt her sanity, but she spoke, at 
 last, with a violent effort. 
 
 " You must not go, sir ; they would tell you the truth, and 
 you would never return again. As I live under heaven, / will 
 tell you the truth, and the God who reigns above us will bless 
 you if you save my child. Maggie," said she, addressing the 
 child, " come here." She drew back the curls from the child- 
 ish forehead, " Does that look, sir, as though guilt or false- 
 hood had left its stain upon her ? Oh sir, by all that you hold 
 pure and good, by the mother who nursed you, by the sisters
 
 64 KATE WESTON. 
 
 who watch for you, by the fair girl whose love you are hoping 
 for, do not go without taking my child. See here, sir." 
 
 She opened the door by which she had entered, and pointed 
 to a dark damp room within. " There was where I found her 
 staying, with eight women and children around her, and not a 
 morsel to keep her from starving; and she must come to 
 worse than that, unless some hand is put out to save her. Sit 
 down, and I will tell you a story." She spoke rapidly, without 
 stopping for a moment, as though fearful, if she should, of 
 being unable to resume. 
 
 " Two birds built their nest in a green tree. The sunlight 
 fell upon it, the sweet air blew around it. There was plenty 
 of food and drink, and the birds sang merrily all the day long. 
 They made a feathery lining for their nest, so that none of 
 the Mrds about had as pleasant a habitation as they. By-and- 
 by two little fledgelings filled their parents with rejoicing. 
 They fluttered over them, sang their sweetest songs, and 
 brought the softest feathers for them. The father flew away 
 for food, and the mother fed them, chirping for joy, and hover- 
 ing always over them. 
 
 " But the spoiler came. An evil bird one day destroyed the 
 father. The mother waited and waited, but he did not come. 
 She could find no food for her fledgelings, and one of them 
 died. At last the slayer of her mate came, and charmed her 
 with his fierce eye away from her desolate nest. The fledge- 
 ling went too, but when they were in a desert-place, her 
 enemy flew away, and left her there with drooping wings and 
 wounded heart. 
 
 " Perhaps if she had been left alone, she would have recov- 
 ered. But other enemies came. They gave her poisoned 
 water to drink, they picked away her feathers, they tore and 
 bruised her sadly, until the poor wanderer lay, bleeding and 
 quivering, without the power to stir. All this time the little 
 bird had been getting larger and prettier. The wings were 
 growing strong, the feathers were white and downy, and the
 
 KATE WESTON. 65 
 
 little throat now and then tried to warble a simple strain. 
 But when the mother was bruised so badly, she thought hei 
 little one must die. There was nobody to feed her, and the 
 birds of prey began to look with baleful eyes upon her. 
 Then a friendly hand was stretched out to save her, and she 
 was taken away from her mother. The poor sick bird cried 
 piteously after her fledgeling, but was glad to let it go where 
 it could have food and care. 
 
 " It was a long time that she stayed away, but at last she 
 wanted to see it so much that she fluttered to its new home, 
 and all loathsome and diseased, with her feathers torn- away, 
 and her eyes red and fiery, fell quivering down beside it. 
 She only stayed for a little while, and flew away again. But 
 they saw her there, and hated her, and so thrust the little 
 white dove, pure and beautiful as it was, away from them. 
 She went out, scarcely fledged, chirping with terror and hunger 
 to struggle, and to die." 
 
 The woman stopped for a moment, then throwing herself 
 before him, she cried in anguish of spirit, "Let it be your 
 hand that shall rescue her ! Rum and the rumseller have 
 been my ruin. No voice censures them. But the finger of 
 scorn, the hiss of contempt, the biting taunt, the fire that 
 is eating out my life, are all for me ! For me their victim, 
 their slave ! But for them, I should have been able to look 
 proudly upon a husband and two beautiful children, to nurse 
 them and care for them, and hold them to my bosom as hap- 
 pier mothers do. 
 
 " But all are gone all but this one, and she the last bright 
 thing on earth, I must thrust from me, that she may escape 
 the vortex down which I am whirling with no hope, no 
 remedy, no friend. And I swear to you by Heaven, she is 
 free from stain as the lily of summer. I have guarded her 
 from pollution, shut her out from my guilt and shame, kept 
 her always where she could learn that alone that was true and 
 pure, hoping ever, if such as I have any right to hope, that
 
 66 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the day of her rescue would come. I promise you," cried she, 
 falling on her knees, and clasping her hands, " I will never 
 see her more. Take her with you. Deny me not. God has 
 sent you here. I knew it when I saw the pitying smile upon 
 your face last night Father in Heaven save my child ! 
 
 Her voice had been gradually rising with the intensity of 
 her emotion, until the last words were uttered in a wild shriek, 
 as though her heart went out in that brief prayer. She knelt 
 there with hands clasped, and face up-turned, while for the 
 moment, the tenderness of a mother's affection shone from the 
 fierce eyes, and the guilty woman's tears streamed over a face 
 disfigured with drunkenness and vice. 
 
 Edward had listened earnestly, with alternate emotions of 
 pity and indignation. As she concluded, he drew his hand 
 rapidly across his eyes. He did not speak directly, for he 
 could not trust his voice, but he looked over to where the 
 child stood crying, half terrified at her mother's manner, and 
 back again to the woman kneeling there. At length he said, 
 
 " I will take her with me, and do what I can for her. But 
 do not go back again to your wretched life. There is an 
 asylum for such as you. Take refuge there, I entreat you. 
 Mr. Dunn will use his influence." 
 
 A fierce glance of scorn shot over the softened face, and 
 she sprang to her feet. Then, as though stopped by a sudden 
 thought, she dropped her eyelashes, bit her lip till the blood 
 almost came, and stood for some moments evidently struggling 
 hard with some violent emotion. 
 
 " You would be happy again," resumed the young man, " if 
 you left all your sins behind, and took refuge where they 
 could not follow you." 
 
 " Never, never, in this world or the next. I am past par- 
 don past pardon," and she shook her head sadly. " And 
 yet, there are those who will have a heavier account than 
 mine to render those who made me what I am those who 
 make thousands such as I those for whom both task and
 
 KATE WESTON. 67 
 
 pastime are to crowd felons and murderers into our prisons, 
 to drive men and women mad," here she laughed wildly, and 
 beat her hand upon her forehead, " to fit them for the pit of 
 perdition to which they are driving them by hundreds, and 
 thousands, and millions. And there is no hand to save, no 
 voice to plead for their salvation. Why don't you make laws, 
 and drive the demon from our land ? You'll let them go on 
 for ever, flattering their victims into hell, while you talk about 
 slavery and no slavery, war and no war, and never raise a 
 finger to put down the master-tyrant of the world, that en- 
 slaves more freemen, and destroys more bodies and souls than 
 all the tyrants that ever lived. The day will come for your 
 punishment. When the blackness of darkness shall close 
 around you, when no", I can never be saved do not ask me 
 there now take her God will bless you for it leave me 
 to my wretchedness." 
 
 She clasped her child suddenly in one quick embrace, 
 placed her before her new protector, and darted into the street, 
 
 Edward, startled at her wild earnestness, and believing 
 from the incoherency of her last words that reason was wan- 
 dering, started after her, but before he reached the street she 
 was out of sight. He looked up and down, but deeming it 
 useless to search for her where so many alleys and cellars 
 afforded her a refuge, he returned to the child. 
 
 She stood weeping bitterly where her mother had left her. 
 He could with difficulty keep back his own tears as he took 
 her by the hand, and, calling her by the name he had heard 
 her mother use, strove to soothe her. 
 
 " Maggie dear, don't cry, you shall be taken better care of 
 than ever you were before. Here are two shillings for you if 
 you won't cry, and you shall go for a nice ride with me to~ 
 morrow." 
 
 It was some time before he succeeded in quieting her, and 
 then he began to think how he should dispose of her until the 
 following day.
 
 68 KATE \VESTON. 
 
 " Do you know of anybody you could stay with to-night?" 
 he asked, " anywhere but here." 
 
 " I don't know," said the child ; " Sally Clark keeps board- 
 ers sometimes." % 
 
 " And where does Sally Clark live ?" he asked. 
 
 " Just round the corner, sir," said she, still sobbing. 
 
 " Well, I will go with you and see," said Edward, pushing 
 her gently before him, and ascending the steps into the street. 
 
 As they turned the corner, the child pointed him to a 
 shabby-looking house, over the door of which a piece of 
 painted tin gave notice, in very large letters, that " Boarding 
 and Lodging " were to be obtained within. A dingy brass 
 knocker corresponded with a green door, scratched and bat- 
 tered with hard usage, and a pair of 'very dirty curtains at 
 the front windows formed a pretty correct index to the char- 
 acter of the landlady. 
 
 Sally Clark came to the door to answer the knock, and 
 was very civil indeed when she saw Maggie in the company 
 of so spruce a looking gentleman. 
 
 " Walk in, if you please, sir," said she, " and what would 
 you like to have ?" 
 
 " Can you accommodate this little girl for to-night ?" said 
 he, looking inquisitively at the little room into which he was 
 invited to enter. 
 
 " Yes, sir," was the answer ; " please to walk in here to the 
 fire." 
 
 He complied with the invitation on the child's account, and, 
 although not much pleased with the appearance of things, he 
 concluded to leave her there for that night, and to call for her 
 on the following morning, when about leaving New York for 
 his home in Laconia.
 
 KATE WESTON. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Music and mirth. White satin and blue tarletan floating 
 over the floor, black velvet aud green brocade reclining on the 
 sofa. Fairy feet peeping out from trailing skirts, and less 
 graceful ones carefully concealed beneath their folds. Mous- 
 taches of every curve and color, false calves of unexceptiona 
 ble mould, kid gloves of the daintiest white, vests and coats 
 of the latest fashion, displaying to the best advantage the 
 grace of Brother Jonathan, simpering to pretty girls in crape 
 and flowers, and the awkwardness of Uncle Sain, talking poli- 
 tics to would-be-blues in velvet and feathers. Hair dressed in 
 every mode, from a la Grecque to a la Parisienne, and every 
 mouth smiling just enough to exhibit a row of beautiful teeth, 
 from the excellent set made to order for buxom Mrs. Ileze- 
 kiah Pillipin fanning herself in the corner, to the row of 
 exquisite pearls gleaming from the lips of Miss Araminta Dunn 
 tripping over the floor. 
 
 Gaslight streaming upon the flowers budding on the carpet, 
 the little figures of ormolu, the alabaster vases, the beautiful 
 faces and graceful forms, bathing them all in brilliant beauty. 
 Music swelling through the room from harp and violin ; light 
 figures gliding swiftly to the lively measure. Daughters flirt- 
 ing atrociously with brainless fops, and mothers looking on 
 with admiring eyes. All this upon the surface. How much 
 beneath is not for us to know. How many jealousies, hatreds, 
 and heartaches, but more, perhaps, than even a misanthrope 
 believes. 
 
 "Miss Araminta looks charmingly to-night," said Mrs.
 
 70 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Pillipin to Mr. Dunn, as ho seated himself on the sofa beside 
 her. 
 
 Now Mrs. Pillipin being a stout and wealthy widow, the 
 upper tendom of New York had set her down as an excellent 
 match for. Mr. Dunn, an opinion in which the lady herself 
 concurred, to the no small discomfiture of that gentleman, 
 who, unconscious of any design upon his devoted head, con- 
 sidered the profusion of smiles and compliments lavished upon 
 him by the coquettish widow as entirely superfluous and un- 
 called for. 
 
 " I may say the same of your daughter," answered the gen- 
 tleman ; " Miss Pillipin looks uncommonly well this even- 
 ing." 
 
 The lady thought he might as well have made it Mrs. Pilli- 
 pin, but she contented herself with remarking 
 
 " Well, I must say, Malvina looks very well, except that 
 she appears so much older than she is. Why, would you be- 
 lieve it, she is scarcely seventeen, and I'm sure she looks 
 twenty. But, dear me, how young you are looking yourself, 
 Mr. Dunn. I declare you do resemble so much my poor, un- 
 fortunate husband, and he was called one of the handsomest 
 men in New Orleans. I never see you without recalling him 
 to my memory." 
 
 The lady's glance of admiration was utterly lost upon her 
 auditor, who bowed slightly in acknowledgment of the com- 
 pliment, but did not answer her. Just at that moment, Ed- 
 ward stepped out to dance with Miss Malvina, and the de- 
 lighted mother exclaimed, 
 
 " Pray who is that young gentleman, Mr. Dunn ? I do so 
 admire his manner ; very much like your own, indeed ; so 
 graceful and gentlemanly." 
 
 " He is a young man studying medicine in the country with 
 an old friend of mine," said Mr. Dunn, " out at Laconia, where 
 I spend the summer. I took quite .1 fancy to him when I 
 first went out there, and he often drops in to pay me a visit."
 
 KATE WESTON. 71 
 
 " He has not completed his studies, then," said Mrs. Pilli- 
 pin, keeping her eyes fixed upon the pair. 
 
 " No, madam," he rejoined, " he is " Just at this instant 
 a stout, red-faced little gentleman, with brass buttons upon a 
 blue coat, waddled suddenly up to them, looking extremely 
 pleased and pleasable. 
 
 " Mrs. Pillipin," said he, " do you never dance ?" 
 
 The lady interrogated having a decided tendency to dropsy, 
 and weighing some two hundred pounds, replied, with a sim- 
 per, 
 
 " Never, myself, sir ; I leave that for my daughter. In- 
 deed, we who have daughters to chaperon in the fashionable 
 world, enjoy a privilege that you less fortunate bachelors can 
 scarcely appreciate." 
 
 " No Ma'am," said the rosy-nosed gentleman, nodding his 
 head several times in succession, " not at all, Ma'am. Can't 
 say I'm partial to single life, Ma'am. Can't say it's altogether 
 my fault, that I'm a bachelor, Ma'am. Some ladies are very 
 hard-hearted, Ma'am. You must know that by yourself, 
 Ma'am ; that is, in some particular cases, Ma'am ; now you 
 can't deny that, Ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Pillipin neither could nor would deny anything of the 
 kind, for the phizes of numberless admirers of her maiden 
 charms, and the forms of a superannuated navy officer, a cor- 
 pulent alderman, and a fortune-hunting .German nobleman, 
 who had respectively laid hand and heart at the feet of the 
 ladj-millionaire, rose like ghosts to hinder the perpetration of 
 any such falsehood ; so the lady smirked, and simpered, and 
 smiled, very much to the amusement of Edward, who was 
 watching the mother of his siren from the opposite cor- 
 ner. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mr. Dunn, " you will bid farewell to the 
 fraternity some day. You bachelors do have a sorry time of 
 it with the ladies. Let them be ever so hard-hearted, it is 
 only natural that they should feel indignant at seeing one of 

 
 72 KATE WESTON. 
 
 your class remain so long apparently indifferent, when they 
 know so well the power and variety of their charms." 
 
 "Certainly, sir," answered the good-natured bachelor, put- 
 ting his white kids behind him, and tetering adroitly back 
 and forth upon the toes of his pumps. " Perfectly natural, 
 sir. Allow me to say, perfectly right too, sir. Hope as you 
 say, sir, the day may come for me to bid farewell to the fra- 
 ternity. Nobody'd be half so glad as myself, sir. But there's 
 no telling, sir. Depends on circumstances, sir." 
 
 Now these circumstances, as everybody knew, having refer- 
 ence to a certain other widow, of whom the widow present 
 was mortally jealous, caused this widow to turn up her nose 
 at thought of the other widow, and to change the subject 
 without more ado. 
 
 " How is trade now, Mr. Pufton ?" she asked, looking as 
 though extremely interested for his answer. 
 
 " Why, Ma'am," he answered, planting himself firmly again 
 upon his feet, " none of the briskest, Ma'am. Haven't sold 
 more than a hundred thousand dollars' worth this year, Ma'am. 
 Sold at least a hundred and fifty thousand before this time 
 last year, Ma'am. Don't know how it is, can't account for it, 
 Ma'am. Don't let it trouble me ; take it easy, Ma'am. That's 
 my advice." 
 
 " Oh, you're a happy soul," cried Mrs. Pillipin. " Well, I 
 consider that every one should enjoy life as far as possible-. 
 Malvina, my dear." 
 
 The young lady, like a dutiful daughter, had brought her 
 new partner for an introduction to her mother. The cere- 
 mony was over before the dumpy gentleman had time to turn 
 round, but he no sooner laid eyes on Edward, than he pounced 
 upon him with ferocious eagerness, regardless of all the laws 
 of etiquette, tearing his new kid glove in shaking hands, and 
 actually frisking his coat-tails into the face of the astonished 
 Mrs. Pillipin, who was still bowing gracefully to her new 
 acquaintance.
 
 : 
 
 >rVi f- W ] f v ';"" 
 
 1 >l rev : *-- F ira* 1 
 
 ' 
 
 icgai UICBS ui ail 1110 iii\\> ui ciii^uciicr, it .11 jiiu me in \\ MU ^iu\c in niialvili^ llallUH. illiu 
 
 actually frisking his coat-tails into the face of the astonished Mrs. Pillipin. who was 
 
 still bowing gracefully to her new acquaintance,
 
 KATE WESTON. 73 
 
 " My dear boy, how are you ?" he cried, " Ton my word 
 now, looking more like a man than ever. How 3 s father, eh ? 
 and mother and pretty Molly, eh ? got over her pet at my 
 kissing her? ha ha ha but I'll do it again, yes, I will 
 now." 
 
 The company generally understanding Mr. Pufton, paid 
 little attention to that gentleman's abrupt descent upon the 
 young stranger, except Miss Malvina, who looked extremely 
 disconcerted at the sudden interruption, but thought it more 
 amiable to simper, " Why, Mr. Pufton, what a funny man you 
 are ! Did you know Mr. Clarence before ?" 
 
 " Know him before ?" he cried, giving his kid glove another 
 tear in the delight of a second shake. " I think so, my dear. 
 Known him a good many years, my dear. Capital fellow ; fine 
 baby was Ned Clarence, and a tolerable looking chap yet, my 
 dear, quite tolerable." He finished with a little satisfied bob 
 of the head, evidently meaning that he considered him some- 
 thing more than tolerable, while Mr. Dunn exclaimed : 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Pufton, I had forgotten entirely that you 
 were one of Mr. Clarence's earliest friends." 
 
 " And truest friends, sir," said Mr. Pufton, with eyes twink- 
 ling in an ecstatic manner. Bless my heart, boy, I think as 
 much of you now as your own father does, you know I do. 
 Like old Higgins as well as ever ? He likes good Madeira well 
 as ever, I'll be bound ; that is, when the article comes already 
 paid for, and he don't take enough to hurt his constitution, 
 ha ha ha !" Here the puffy little Mr. Pufton gave Edward 
 a facetious little poke, whereupon Mrs. Pillipin rolled up her 
 eyes at Mr. Dunn, Miss Malvina reiterated her assertion with 
 regard to his being " such a funny man," and Edward himself, 
 although a little abashed at finding himself the object of con- 
 siderable attention from the company around, looked and 
 acted highly delighted at meeting one of his wannest friends. 
 
 At this moment supper was announced, and Mr. Dunn, 
 slightly bowing, took the widow on his arm, while Edward
 
 74 KATE WESTON. 
 
 followed with Miss Pillipin, leaving Mr. Pufton to escort a 
 lady just behind them, who might have been a wax figure just 
 modelled in Paris, so exquisite was the tint of cheek and fore- 
 head, so elaborate was the coiffure, so perfect even to the 
 falling of a tassel was the tout ensemble of the lady's personal 
 appearance. 
 
 Mrs. Morley languished into the supper-rooin with the air 
 of a drooping lily, while her rosy companion carried his fat little 
 body upon a very slender pair of legs, presenting very much 
 the appearance of an apple dumpling upon stilts. But then 
 nobody noticed it. The fashionable lady herself didn't notice 
 it Wasn't Mr. Pufton the comfortable recipient ef some 
 fifteen thousand dollars per annum, and hadn't he one of the 
 largest liquor-warehouses in New- York ? Mr. Pufton didn't 
 notice it. He, the jolly little soul, never noticed anything in 
 particular. Nobody could imagine how he had made his 
 money, for he never thought much about business matters, 
 although, like other men, he was fond of having plenty of 
 money, and spending it as fast as he conveniently could. 
 
 He had always been a bachelor, not because he did not 
 admire ladies, but because he couldn't win , the lady he 
 admired. Having waited for some ten years after first pro- 
 posing to her, his hope had taken a sudden bound in the 
 event of her becoming a widow. But now, after the lapse of 
 four years, he seemed to be no nearer his goal than before, 
 for the lady, although sensible enough to appreciate his many 
 good qualities, remained inexorable, giving him no encourage- 
 ment whatever. Mr. Pufton fell in love with all the pretty 
 girls, petting and kissing them precisely as he would have 
 done so many interesting babies, while the star of his first 
 love never waxed pale through all the clouds and shadows 
 that hovered ever between it and him. 
 
 " Here is a seat, Ma'am," said he, " allow me," and he placed 
 it nearly as possible by the side of Miss Malvina, who was 
 standing wedged in a corner among a posse of dandies and
 
 KATE WESTON. 15 
 
 dolls, all chatting and laughing together, like so many mag- 
 pies fastened in a cage. " Now what will you take, Ma'am ? 
 Some lobster-salad, Ma'am, or pickled oysters, or a little of this 
 boned turkey ? All very good to appearance, Ma'am." 
 
 The lady, gasping faintly at thought of the possible effect 
 pickled oysters might have on her complexion, preferred a 
 very little of the lobster-salad." 
 
 Mrs. Pillipin, on the contrary, deemed it inexpedient, as the 
 various luxuries had been provided for the express purpose of 
 gratifying her taste, to let the opportunity pass without 
 improving it to the full extent of her capacity. Indeed, the 
 piquancy of the viands set before her was so obviously appre- 
 ciated by her, that the Honorable Mrs. Morley, of Baltimore, 
 set her down in her own mind as a vulgar upstart, with whom 
 she would not associate on any terms whatever. 
 
 Edward, notwithstanding his natural self-possession, felt 
 a little awk.vard in the present company, a circumstance 
 not at all singular, inasmuch as his simple country code of 
 politeness had taught him to prefer others before himself, 
 while the politeness here practised seemed to consist in crowd- 
 ing everybody that stood in everybody's way, and, in general, 
 making themselves, and their partners of course, as comfort- 
 able, and every one else as uncomfortable as possible. 
 
 Edward, however, was not in the least troubled from his 
 want of initiation into the mysteries of the fashionable world, 
 for Mr. Pufton did the work of both. He pushed, and 
 crowded, and trotted backwards and forwards from the ladies 
 to the supper-table, and from the supper-table to the ladies in 
 the most laudable manner, until his little shiny forehead was 
 quite wet with perspiration, and his little rosy nose glowing 
 like a very purple turnip-radish. 
 
 " Here is something you must taste, ladies," he exclaimed, 
 lugging along a splendid decanter, and followed by a waiter 
 who managed to squeeze along a silver salver, capable of con- 
 taining three or four glasses. " This is some of my best wine,
 
 76 KATE WESTON. 
 
 and it beats Mr. Dunn's all hollow. Never saw anything to 
 equal it. Been in my warehouse cellar twenty years and over. 
 Allow me, Ma'am." He poured out the sparkling beverage, 
 offering it first to Mrs. Morley, then to Mrs. Pillipin and 
 her daughter, then to Edward, while Mr. Dunn smilingly 
 remarked, 
 
 "Do not exult too much over me, Pufton, I warrant you 
 my brandy as far exceeds yours, as your wine goes before 
 mine. You know I never like to play second fiddle, even to 
 such a superior importer as yourself. I think you said trade 
 hadn't been brisk with you this year." 
 
 " No sir," said Mr. Pufton. " Not at all, sir. Never saw it 
 so dull, sir. Can't account for it, sir." 
 
 " It has been directly different with me. I have cleared full 
 thirty thousand this year, above all expenses, and if I do 
 not make it fifty before the year's out, I shall be quite dissatis- 
 fied." 
 
 " Well, sir," answered Mr. Pufton, " it's a good business, sir, 
 and when you keep the best, you are sure to succeed in it. 
 I wanted Edward here to enter my warehouse, but his father, 
 would you believe it, had conscientious scruples, as though 
 it would hurt him, sir." 
 
 " Excuse me," said Edward, "you are mistaken, Mr. Pufton. 
 That waS not the ground on which my father's objection rested. 
 He considered the free use of wine an evil, and consequently 
 thought it inconsistent to allow me to sell it. He never 
 imagined that any injury would result to me from entering 
 your warehouse." 
 
 "And you think it an evil, too, sir?" said Mr. Pufton, 
 glancing at Edward's untasted wine. " Now, my dear boy, I 
 beg of you not -to be fanatical upon this subject. People will 
 think you quite a baby, if you are afraid to take an innocent 
 glass of wine, for fear you won't be able to stop until you are 
 tipsy. They will indeed, won't they Ma'am ?" 
 
 Mrs. Morley, to whom this question was addressed, bowed
 
 KATE \VESTON. 77 
 
 languidly, while Mrs. Pillipin, who had been sipping the wine 
 with evident satisfaction, facetiously remarked, 
 
 " Why yes, Mr. Clarence, if every young man assumed such 
 a position, there would be nobody to get tipsy, and nobody to 
 make other people tipsy, you know." % 
 
 Miss Malvina, considering her mother's sally an excellent 
 joke, tittered excruciatingly, and the lady herself looked as 
 though she wanted to, but as it failed to draw t more than a 
 smile from the gentlemen, both relapsed into an awkward 
 gravity. 
 
 The remark brought to Edward's mind the scene he had 
 witnessed in the morning, and he inwardly thought that the 
 event of " every young man assuming such a position," would 
 be about the best thing that could befall the world in general ; 
 but having a decided veneration for popular opinion, he con- 
 sidered himself totally unequal to the maintenance of such a 
 principle, and made up his mind that all Ms efforts could 
 make no difference in the state of affairs. How many make 
 up their minds with a precisely similar result. 
 
 " Excuse me, Ma'am ;" cried Mr. Pufton, replenishing Mrs. 
 Morley's glass. " Keally, Ma'am, you must pardon my negli 
 gence, Ma'am ; allow me ;" and taking her plate, he hurried 
 off in quest of a fresh supply for that lady to look at and nibble 
 at; while Mr. Dunn had the satisfaction of seeing his less 
 fastidious partner enjoy the exquisite repast with true epicu- 
 rean delight. 
 
 Another circumstance also tended to the gentleman's more 
 immediate satisfaction. Araminta had not danced with young 
 Marteau during the whole evening. He began to hope that 
 her "girlish fancy was cooling down, and would eventually cool 
 itself entirely away. 
 
 His heart was bound up in his child. Fond as he was of the 
 world and its gaieties, all his real affection was centered in 
 that only daughter. He was proud to see her move among 
 so many beautiful ones, and know that she was more beautiful
 
 78 KATE WESTON. 
 
 than all. He was proud that she dressed with the most splen- 
 dor, and moved with the most grace of any among her com- 
 panions, and he kept hoping for the time when she would see 
 from his constant watchfulness and affection, that his love was 
 wctfthy of a more ardent and confiding return. 
 
 By this time the guests were enjoying themselves in a man- 
 ner showing that they knew how to enter into the spirit of 
 the entertainment. Pickled oysters, turkey, ice-cream, and 
 Charlotte Russe, were disappearing from the elegantly fur- 
 nished tables. Ladies were being smothered, and their dresses 
 smeared. Gentlemen were making havoc among the Methe- 
 glin, and Madeira, Cognac and Champagne. Sometimes an 
 unlucky wight tripped over some lady's foot, spilling jelly or 
 port wine over an elegant satin or velvet, while the lady 
 heartily wishing the aggressor in Van Dieman's Land, felt 
 constrained to smile her sweetest, and speak her prettiest, 
 that she might let him know, that, to her, such a catastrophe 
 was of the slightest possible consequence. Pale cheeks were 
 flushing from partaking of the universal beverage, and all 
 kinds of remarkable capers were cut under the influence 
 of such excitement. Mr. Fitzroy stumbled against one of the 
 tables, knocking off a salver containing some half-dozen 
 splendidly-cut decanters, Mr. Livingston demolished at one 
 blow a beautiful fairy grotto in the center of the table, while 
 reaching eagerly across for a glass of sherry, Monsieur Roc- 
 cieri, feeling a sudden dizziness, and concluding thereby that 
 he had taken quite enough, threw the bottle from which he 
 was pouring some of the very finest Amontillado indignant! y 
 upon the floor, as though taking his revenge upon it for hav- 
 ing induced such an uncomfortable confusion in the head- 
 quarters of his understanding. 
 
 When supper was over, the party adjourned to the parlor 
 in the highest glee imaginable. Ladies' tongues were rattling 
 faster than ever, to the delight of admiring beaus, and the 
 contempt of rival belles. Slender dandies in white kids bore
 
 KATE WESTON. 79 
 
 very much the appearance of having worked faithfully all day 
 beneath a broiling sun, both from the burning color of their 
 faces, and the somewhat unsteady motion of their lower 
 extremities. All the gentlemen seemed so superlatively happy 
 as to be ready to engage heart and hand in any enterprise 
 that was proposed ; or, in other words, looked quite prepared 
 to enter at once upon what is vulgarly termed, " kicking up a 
 row," had not the circumstances under which .they were 
 assembled, prevented any such unlawful proceeding. 
 
 In short, they were as zealous in tumbling over each other's 
 toes, knocking each other's elbows, whizzing dexterously about 
 with charming girls, gambling in miniature at the card-tables, 
 and exhibiting every other similar accomplishment, as could 
 have been expected of members of the most fashionable and 
 refined society of this great metropolis of our Western 
 World. 
 
 " Where is Miss Araminta ?" " Have you seen Miss Aramin- 
 ta ?" " Is Miss Araminta ill ?" " Where is Miss Araminta ?" 
 The carriages were waiting at the door, the ladies were stand- 
 ing in the hall with tassels of every color dangling about their 
 faces, the gentlemen were ranged, hat in hand, watching for 
 their respective charges, but the young lady did not appear. 
 Her father had been to the parlor, drawing-room, supper-room, 
 dressing-room, but she was not to be found. 
 
 " How very strange !" remarked Mrs. Pillipin. " I haven't 
 seen her since supper." 
 
 " I don't think it's strange at all, Mamma," said Miss Mal- 
 vina, " Araminta is such an odd creature. She likes to be 
 different from anybody else." 
 
 " Well, I believe you will have to give Miss Dunn our 
 adieux," said her mother to the astonished father, as he des- 
 cended the stairs. " Perhaps the dear girl isn't well." 
 
 Miss Araminta not making her appearance, Mrs. Pillipin's 
 example was followed by the other ladies, who, one after 
 another filed off into their carriages, and rattled away, to make
 
 80 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the unexpected disappearance of their young hostess the 
 theme of conversation during their homeward drive. 
 
 As soon as the coast was clear, Mr. Dunn hurried up to his 
 daughter's room. It was empty, and everything lay, appa- 
 rently, as it always did. He advanced to the table. His eye 
 fell upon a small note directed to himself. A sudden chill 
 crept over him, but he tore it open and read, 
 
 " MY DEAR FATHER : 
 
 " Do not be angry with me. I feel that you cannot appreciate the 
 depth of my attachment to my dear Adolphus, and knew, as the event 
 will surely prove, that your objections to him were totally unfounded. 
 Forgive us, father, we should never have taken this step had I not 
 felt certain that you would not only pardon us, but that you would 
 very soon be proud of my noble husband. He is the handsomest, 
 most affectionate, and the best-educated gentleman I ever saw. 
 
 " Before you read this, we shall probably be married, as I intend 
 leaving orders with one of the servants to lay this note upon my 
 dressing-table ^at the very hour in which the ceremony will be per- 
 formed. 
 
 " I tell you by whom we are married to set your mind at rest. We go 
 from home to the Rev. Mr. Mercer, in Grand street. To-morrow we 
 leave for the East, but expect to be back in one week's time to 
 receive your pardon and your blessing. Now, my dear father, don't 
 be angry with us, and we will be such good children. 
 1 remain always 
 
 Your affectionate daughter 
 
 ARAMIXTA DUNN." 
 
 The strong man dropped the paper from his hand, and fell 
 senseless on the floor. The noise brought the servants rush- 
 ing up stairs, while Edward followed with a fluttering heart, 
 half-certain that something unfortunate had occurred. 
 
 Restoratives were applied, and Mr. Dunn was lifted from 
 the floor. The first words he spoke upon recovering, were to 
 call for his daughter, and when she did not come, he looked 
 anxiously around. Then, appearing to recollect, he burst into 
 an uncontrollable cry of anguish. Edward endeavored to
 
 KATE WESTON. 81 
 
 soothe him, but he paid not the slightest attention, striving to 
 rise, and move towards the door. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" said Edward, gently detaining him. 
 " Wait a few moments, sir, until you are better." 
 
 " Let me go," he cried feebly. " My child has gone with 
 that dissipated gambler. Why did I not forbid him the 
 house V 
 
 " Calm yourself, sir," said Edward, endeavoring himself to 
 appear as little excited as possible. "Nothing can be done 
 until you are sufficiently self-possessed to act calmly. Have 
 you any clue to her ?" 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed the father, starting up again, " if we are 
 not too late. Will you order the carriage. Tell Thomas to 
 hurry for life or death." 
 
 Thomas, whom the emergency of the matter on hand had 
 actually kept awake, set to work in earnest, so that in five 
 minutes, the father, accompanied by his young guest, started 
 out jn a frame of mind bordering upon insanity. The resi- 
 dence of Mr. Mercer was easily found, and, after knocking up 
 the clergyman, they ascertained that Mr. Adolphus Marteau 
 and Miss Araminta Dunn had been, by him, united for life 
 three hours previous to that time. 
 
 " At supper time," groaned Mr. Dunn ; " I thought it 
 strange that I did not see her for so long. She writes as 
 though it were a pretty little hit of child's play. I wish to 
 Heaven it was ! Is there no way of recovering my child ?" 
 He beat his hands upon his forehead, and fell into a seat, with 
 the perspiration standing in great drops upon his forehead. 
 
 " I am truly sorry for you, sir," said Mr. Mercer, " but it is 
 too late to separate them now. Mr. Marteau is your daugh- 
 ter's legal protector, and it would be useless to interfere." 
 
 " Can you tell me which way they have gone ?" said Mr. 
 Dunn. " I will follow them at least." 
 
 " Indeed," said the clergyman, " I have not the slightest clue 
 to their intended destination. They came in a carriage, and 
 
 4*
 
 82 KATE WESTON. 
 
 left immediately after the ceremony was performed." The 
 kind-hearted clergyman proffered a few words of sympathy 
 and consolation to the bereaved father, but they were founded 
 on faith in Him who has promised His children never to 
 leave nor forsake them, and consequently found no echo in 
 his heart. 
 
 It was of no use. The die was cast, and any effort of his 
 must be unavailing. They returned to the carriage in silence. 
 The homeward drive brought back to that unthinking man 
 of the world years of gaiety and dissipation ; scenes over Avhich 
 he would fain have thrown the shadows of oblivion ; hopes 
 growing up of after years of quiet peace, for which his weary 
 soul was longing now, but which he felt were torn from him 
 for ever ; love that had been sinking deeper in his breast, as 
 its object added grace to grace, and charm to charm, until so 
 strong' that no earthly power could heal the wound it made 
 in parting. Then there came back to him the faces of his 
 early love. Father, mother, sisters, wife how changed he was, 
 how very much changed, since they looked upon him last ? How 
 many dark spots lay all along his line of life, that no sunshine 
 could brighten. Pale faces gazed reproachfully upon him 
 through the darkness, as he waved them impatiently away. 
 Bloated ones leered upon him with their hideous eyes, of 
 those he knew were lying in the drunkard's grave. And, 
 strange to say, the figure of the desolate child weeping at his 
 door, mingled with them all, now fixing those large eyes upon 
 his face, now wandering along in the cold and darkness, now 
 lying, pale and chill, beneath his feet. 
 
 He looked out at the great houses, looming through the 
 darkness, and at the trees through which the wind sighed 
 mournfully. They bore naught to him but shades of gloom 
 that seemed lengthening along his future, shutting out for ever 
 all light, and hope, and love. The night opened in revelry 
 and mirth. Day was dawning upon a broken heart. 
 
 And yet sitting there with the memory of the widow's
 
 KATE WESTON. 83 
 
 wrongs, the visions of evil prompted by a lust of gain, the 
 overwhelming consciousness of his own sin and heartlessness* 
 he crushed the tenderness that was swelling in his bosom, and 
 vowed that he would never see his child. She, who had 
 learned of him to turn from the purity aud simplicity of home 
 to the intoxicating whirl of fashionable pleasures; she who 
 had watched in him the pride of wealth, and rank, and beauty, 
 for which same pride she was discarded now. 
 
 Poor, short-sighted mortal ! Was it for thee or her, the 
 bitterest portion of the bitter cup poured out in that hour of 
 thy mortal anguish and immortal pride ?
 
 HATE WESTON. 84 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " POOR little creature," said Mrs. Terry, wiping her eyes as 
 Edward finished relating to her the history of the child, " if 
 I had known all this, I should have made no objection to your 
 course." 
 
 Mr. Terry being naturally of a reflective character, deemed 
 it incumbent upon him to impress upon his thoughtless 
 brother-in-law the necessity of greater caution in yielding to 
 the dictates of a generous heart. After fumbling his hand- 
 kerchief suspiciously across his eyes, and clearing his voice 
 with two or three ahems, he said 
 
 " Which, notwithstanding, I can but consider an imprudent 
 one. It would have been safer, at least, to have visited the 
 family by whom she was previously employed. Ah, Edward, 
 you cannot tell how much deception is practised in such 
 matters in New York." 
 
 Edward peeped over one shoulder with a mischievous wink 
 at his sister, saying quietly, " Clergymen who let crazy men 
 into their pulpits, shouldn't be unwilling to let beggars into 
 their houses." 
 
 " Well, I don't know either," was the young clergyman's 
 answer ; " this child's story is a very painful one, and she cer- 
 tainly looks innocent and sorrowful enough to justify all your 
 credulity. As for poor old Father Benson, although flighty 
 on some subjects, he can and does preach as evangelical a 
 sermon as I do. Very plain and homely, it is true, but evan- 
 gelical, nevertheless. And I am certain," he added with 
 some warmth, " you cannot complain of anything in his char-
 
 KATE WESTON. 85 
 
 acter to debar him from entering the pulpit, for a more con- 
 sistent Christian I never saw." 
 
 " Upon my word," cried Edward, glancing out of the win- 
 dow, "here he comes. Talk about a certain personage, and 
 he's always at hand. Now, then, brother, for an hour's impris- 
 onment. I don't envy you." 
 
 " And I have a sermon to write this afternon," exclaimed 
 Mr. Terry, in a tone of vexation. " What shall I do ?" 
 
 " Why, send the old gentleman about his business, to be 
 sure," answered Edward, " you can't expect to sit and talk 
 with him two or three hours. Don't let him disturb you ; 
 tell him you are engaged." 
 
 " There is no use in it," retorted the disturbed clergyman ; 
 " I can never get him away without giving him permission to 
 preach, and my principal train of argument is not even laid." 
 The grave, clerical face wore, for a moment, an expression of 
 considerable impatience, but it cleared again as a knock 
 sounded at the door, and a servant ushered in the visitor. 
 
 A short, gray-headed old gentleman, in a very long-skirted 
 overcoat, ambled into the room, holding in one hand a silver- 
 headed cane, and in the other a parcel of books. He gave 
 three affable little bows as he entered the room, accompanying 
 each with a little thump of his cane upon the floor. Then he 
 went straight up to the table, and deposited thereupon parcel, 
 cane, hat and gloves. Then taking his cane firmly in his left 
 hand, he faced about, and with a cordial business air, made 
 the tour of the company, beginning with Mr, Terry, shaking 
 hands as though he had not seen them for years, and accom- 
 panying each individual shake with three affable little bows, 
 and as many decisive little thumps. Having accomplished 
 this, he kissed the baby three times in the same off-hand man- 
 ner, and, stepping nimbly to the sofa, seated himself thereon, 
 looking about him with an air of perfect satisfaction. 
 
 " Well, Father Benson, how do you find your business to- 
 day 2" inquired the clergyman ; " sold many books this week ?"
 
 86 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Quite a good many, sir," answered the little old gentleman 
 with a peculiarly pleasant twinkle of the eye. " Thanks be 
 to God, He takes care of poor old Daddy Benson while he's 
 waiting such a long time for the day of his rejoicing. Yes 
 sir, I can trot about and sell my standard library until the 
 prodigal returns, and then will be the time to kill the fatted 
 calf, and make merry." Here he testified his delight at this 
 agreeable prospect by a short, ecstatic laugh, and three little 
 bows and thumps as before. 
 
 " Well, Father Benson," said Mr. Terry, a little uneasily, *' I 
 think you must excuse me this afternoon, for I have some 
 important business on hand that I cannot feel it my duty to 
 neglect." 
 
 " How strange a coincidence !" said the old gentleman, look- 
 ing round delightedly upon the company. " It was some very 
 important business upon which I came this afternoon ; some 
 business that / consider the most important in the world. I 
 have walked three miles on purpose to see you about the 
 matter. Take a seat here, and I will tell you." 
 
 Under such circumstances, what could the clergyman do but 
 sit down and listen, especially as he really loved the aged man, 
 and only avoided his society because it was forced upon him 
 at such inconvenient seasons. Edward and his sister withdrew 
 to the sitting-room, leaving them to their conference, and only 
 casting a sly smile at the patient martyr who was revelling in 
 the delightful expectation of delivering a very poor sermon 
 on the following day. 
 
 " Now, my dear brother," whispered Father Benson, draw- 
 ing close up to his listener, and giving one soft knock upon 
 the floor, " do you know that the wolf is in the fold ?" 
 
 " Indeed," said Mr. Terry, thinking how he should lay out 
 his discourse. 
 
 " He's fairly in," continued the old gentleman, " and nobody's 
 put out a hand to stop him. Now, I'll tell you what I've got on 
 my mind, and you mustn't hinder me. I have written a first-
 
 KATE WESTON. 8Y 
 
 rate sermon, and I want to give it to your people to-morrow. 
 I want to open their eyes a little to the wild beast of the 
 desert that is waiting to devour them. I want to let -them see 
 that they've got to stick fast to the anchor, or they'll all get 
 stranded on the rocks. Have you seen the new saloon?" 
 He turned round, eying the young man with considerable 
 earnestness as he bowed an affirmative to his question. 
 
 " I tell you," he continued, " that man's a child of Satan. 
 If I were you I wouldn't eat oysters there, nor I wouldn't take 
 cream there, nor I wouldn't let any of my people go there. 
 I've seen just such places before, and nothing but death and 
 destruction follows in their wake. What makes thieves, I 
 wonder ? What makes murderers, I wonder ? What made 
 the noblest boy that ever gladdened a father's heart go off to 
 sea, and kill his mother of a broken heart? I wonder 'who'd 
 buy oranges and sugar-plums of a man that made it his busi- 
 ness to poison people. But say now, can't I preach to-morrow? 
 I can preach a first-rate sermon, now you know I can." 
 
 " I have given out my subject for both morning and after- 
 noon," answered Mr. Terry, " and have not the power to grant 
 your request." 
 
 "Oh dear!" said the old gentleman, with a double thump, 
 " that's of no consequence whatever. Really now, can't you 
 believe me when I say that this is the most important matter 
 in the world. All you have got to do, is to give out to your 
 people in the morning, that a discourse upon a subject of the 
 highest importance having been prepared by a distinguished 
 brother-clergyman, you have concluded to wait until next 
 Sunday before delivering your own. That'll bring them out. 
 You see I can manage for you." This appearing to him a 
 very satisfactory way of " managing," he let go his cane for 
 the purpose of rubbing his hands, at the same time turning 
 his round bright eyes so as to bear upon his companion's face. 
 
 The congregation being decidedly partial to his own preach- 
 ing, the clergyman was determined not to give up the point.
 
 88 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " You see, dear Father Benson," he answered, " my people 
 have requested me particularly to prepare a discourse upon 
 this subject, and I think it would be hardly right to disappoint 
 them. And now, I must beg you to excuse me. I have so 
 much to do this afternoon. Another " 
 
 " My dear brother," interrupted Father Benson, " you must 
 exercise the grace of patience. I wish I could make you 
 understand the importance of this matter. My poor prodigal 
 boy knows well enough, and maybe he'll tell you when he 
 returns from sea." The poor old gentleman looked a little 
 perplexed, as though beating about for some new argument. 
 At length with a decisive knock of his cane, he resumed in a 
 confidential tone. *Did you know Edward Clarence went into 
 T. Gamp and Co.'s last Tuesday night, and took three glasses 
 of wine. Now, who blames Edward ? Not I. He's a poor 
 lamb that the wolf is thirsting to devour. And there are 
 many and many more that'll be drawn into his den if you 
 don't let me warn them of their danger. Oome now, I'll 
 read a bit of it to you." He took a large roll of paper from 
 the huge pocket of the long coat, and prepared to open it, 
 when Mr. Terry, laying his hand upon it, said persuasively : 
 
 " I will read it another time if you will not hinder me 
 now. You see I am in such a hurry that " 
 
 " But," said the old gentleman, holding fast to his roll, " my 
 dear brother, you must exercise the grace of patience. Who 
 should tell you that but me, who has been waiting this twenty 
 years for my boy to come back. They told us he was dead, 
 and his poor mother, bless her soul, believed every word of it. 
 But then I know it's all stuff and nonsense, contrived by some 
 one of their own crew to make us unhappy. And what's the 
 consequence ? Why, I lost m^ precious wife," here the tears 
 started to his eyes, " and my old age is very desolate without 
 her. But then," he added in a more cheerful tone, " I know 
 he'll come back to me some day, and take me home to his 
 wife and children, for they said he was married, and I shall
 
 KATE WESTON. 89 
 
 be so happy again. Do you think it'll be long now ?" He 
 looked with such an eager expression into the young clergy- 
 man's face that the tears almost rushed to his listener's eyes, 
 but he merely answered, striving to quell the sudden impulse 
 of sympathy. 
 
 " Dear Father Benson, how can I tell when you do not 
 know yourself? You ought to inform me upon the subject, 
 so" 
 
 " To be sure," answered he quickly, " but I mean do you 
 think so ? If the rum-sellers would only clear out now, and 
 leave the coast clear, I might hunt him out, maybe. You 
 see they've kept him hidden away these many years, but I 
 don't think they'll hide him away for ever. He's a fine boy. 
 A fine boy indeed, is Willie Benson. Just wait now, till you 
 see him. Hush now, and I'll tell you ar little plot of mine. 
 I'm going to find out if this is the man that's got him. I'll 
 tell you how. No, I don't dare tell, he might hear me." The 
 old gentleman looked mysteriously about as though intending 
 to communicate some important secret, but suddenly remem- 
 bering his manuscript, he exclaimed, " But I must read you a 
 little of my sermon. You'll like it when you hear it, I'm 
 sure ;" and he again essayed to open the paper. 
 
 Mr. Terry knowing that if once suffered to commence, it 
 would be impossible to stop him without listening to the 
 whole, and having sundry visions of a large congregation 
 and a very inferior sermon, made one more effort to break 
 
 free. " Father Benson, if I had the time, I would listen with 
 
 ' / 
 
 the greatest pleasure. As it is, I really cannot stop, as my 
 afternoon's sermon is not " 
 
 " My dear brother," again interrupted the old gentleman, 
 enforcing his advice with three emphatic thumps, " you must 
 cultivate the grace of patience ! You know I preach for you 
 in the afternoon. In the first place, I divide my sermon into 
 three heads. Three's my number always. Three knocks," 
 enforcing it with an illustration, " three heads, three years
 
 90 KATE WESTON. 
 
 (that is, to the return of the prodigal, and the killing of the 
 fatted calf), three this, three that, three everything. But to 
 begin." 
 
 The result would have probably given abundant evidence 
 of the grace of patience in the despairing young clergyman, 
 had not his father-in-law at this moment flourished into the 
 room a tremendous red silk handkerchief, as though that 
 article were the sole and immediate occasion of his entrance. 
 When the burly Mr. Jeremiah Clarence, standing full six feet 
 three in his stockings, and stout accordingly, strided up to 
 the little withered gentleman, there was such a shaking of 
 hands, such a profusion of bows, such a shower of thumps, 
 and such a waving of the red pocket-handkerchief as were 
 unutterably delightful to the heart of the reviving son-in-law, 
 as tokens of immediate relief. 
 
 u Why, my dear Daddy Benson," cried the gentleman, " it's 
 full six months since I've laid my eyes upon you. Have you 
 been trudging about now, with that great bundle of " Standard 
 Libraries " there, and never giving your old back a minute to 
 get rested alongside of your old friend. Come now, you go 
 home with me to-night, and don't get off again till I say the 
 word. You're my prisoner, so don't cut any capers." 
 
 " You see, Jeremiah," said the old gentleman, putting on his 
 very pleasantest smile, and knocking ahead some dozen times 
 in the intensity of his delight at this agreeable meeting, " the 
 fact is, I've been trying to make this dear boy believe that 
 I've got a first-rate sermon here to preach to-morrow, and 
 upon subject of the greatest importance, and can't make him 
 listen to the very first word. You know the old adage 
 ' Young folks think old folks are fools ' ha ha !" 
 
 " ' And old folks know young folks are !' that's it, precisely," 
 laughed Mr. Jeremiah, " and the worst part of the business is 
 that they don't know it, the young pedants !" 
 
 "Come now, Jeremiah," said Father Benson coaxingly, 
 " can't you say a word in my behalf?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 91 
 
 Mr. Jeremiah took the tremendous red handkerchief by the 
 two corners, and after giving it a slight shake,- rolled it under 
 and under till reduced to the size of a small loaf of bread, 
 then, after blowing his nose most terrifically, proceeded to 
 shake it out and roll it up as before. After this operation, he 
 winked at his son-in-law over the old gentleman's head, cry- 
 in o- in a stentorian voice, " Oh nonsense, let the sermon take 
 
 O ' ' 
 
 care of itself. I want to have a chat with you. Leave the 
 young pedagogue to look out his own sermons. Isn't that a 
 tiptop baby of mine ?" So saying, Mr. Clarence put his hand 
 upon Father Benson's shoulder in a manner utterly irresistible, 
 charming along old gentleman, long coat-tails, package, cane, 
 hat, gloves and all, until they had left the rejoicing young 
 clergyman in undisturbed possession of his study and his time. 
 
 The two gentlemen walked lovingly down the road, the 
 lusty arm of Mr. Clarence supporting his feebler brother, 
 while the venerable man trotted along by his side, with a 
 bright look of peculiar hopefulness beaming from his face, and 
 no inconsiderable amount of the same article streaming from 
 his tongue. . . 
 
 " Tell you how 'tis," said he, tapping his companion's arm 
 with the head of his cane, in lieu of the usual thump upon 
 the floor. " It does my old soul good, Jeremiah, to see you 
 and hear you talk ; you are so hearty and right to the mark. 
 I don't come across many such men now-a-days. It makes me 
 think of nay poor boy ; he'd have been just like you for all 
 the world, if he hadn't been led away, and drawn on and on 
 but he'll come back yet, in three'years, you know everything 
 goes by threes. But see here," he whispered, looking all 
 about him, " what do you think of that new place, T. Gamp 
 & Co., you know ?" 
 
 " What do I think of it ?" cried Mr. Jeremiah, taking a 
 stride that made his companion stagger. " I told my girls 
 the devil had come, when I saw that detestable placard pasted 
 on my fence."
 
 92 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Hush, hush !" said his companion, looking carefully all 
 about him, and peering into the hedge-row at the side of the 
 road. " Don't talk so loud. They'll hear you." 
 
 " Hear me ?" shouted his friend, " hear me ? let them hear 
 me. I mean they shall hear me. If there was any way to 
 manage it, I'd battle 'em to the last drop of my blood, and 
 the last cent of my money. Poor Father Benson," he added, 
 in a lower tone, " I needn't go far for a reason for my hatred 
 of this vile traffic in life and health*, and happiness." He cast 
 a pitying glance down upon the silver hair and bent form of 
 the old man, who was watching his animated gestures with a 
 look of eager interest. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, tapping with his cane as before, "I 
 know it's horrible, all horrible, from beginning to end. But 
 if they hear us, they won't let me have my boy. I have a 
 plot now, you know. We'll go along by T. Gamp & Co.'s, 
 and we'll just step in by accident, altogether by accident; oh 
 yes !" here the old gentleman made a feint of rubbing his 
 hands together, but his cane being in the way, he substituted 
 a little rapturous shake of the head, " well, then, I shall look 
 all about behind the screens and under the counter (there's 
 where they used to keep him, you know, until they carried 
 him off to sea), and if he isn't there, why I shall have to wait 
 another three years. Three, Jeremiah, everything goes by 
 threes. Then, you know, I wanted to warn the people to- 
 morrow, against letting their boys get entrapped. Now, how 
 would you feel, if Edward should get carried off to sea after 
 "Will ? He was down there the other night, and you don't 
 know what they'll do to keep him." 
 
 " Oh," said the gentleman, with a wave of the handkerchief, 
 " I'm not a bit afraid of Ed. They can't come any of their 
 tricks over him. But there are so many poor undecided 
 creatures that can't resist temptation. Poor Teddy Toole, 
 down by the creek, came here on purpose to get clear of the 
 danger, and Edward tells me his sister is coming out to warn
 
 KATE WESTON. 93 
 
 him never to go near the new rumseller. Thomas Brown, too, 
 with his poor old widowed mother, moved here because there 
 was no liquor sold. They are not the only ones either, that have 
 come here to get away from their enemy, and now it's come 
 to them again, 'tisn't likely it will be any easier for them to 
 leave it alone than before. I've seen what such places bring, 
 and I know where they lead to." 
 
 " They lead," said his companion, " to to sea, and to a 
 broken heart. I'm afraid that's what's become of my poor 
 child. A broken heart !" 
 
 He shook his head mournfully, while Mr. Clarence ex- 
 claimed 
 
 "Yes, and further than that, I can tell you. But never 
 mind," he added, checking himself as he remembered whom 
 he was addressing, " here we turn off, let us change the sub- 
 ject. I have no patience to talk about it when I cannot help 
 the evil ; but I really think when Satan comes, he might as 
 well take his natural shape, and not gloss himself over with a 
 rumseller's smooth words and deceitful smiles." 
 
 As they turned tiie corner, and passed along the road, a 
 head was cautiously raised just above the level of the hedge, 
 and a pair of malicious, squinting eyes took a survey of the 
 whole immediate neighborhoood. Then a pair of shoulders 
 followed the head ; then a jewelled forefinger performed a 
 very expressive pantomime in the direction of the two reced- 
 ing figures, and the words hissed out from the set teeth, while 
 a frown of defiance and hatred worked upon the face. 
 
 " That is your song, old wizard and burly brag. That's 
 your fancy. The devil, eh ? Then the devil shall have his 
 own!" 
 
 Having thus shortly expressed himself, he shook his head 
 with a sudden snarl, as though to give vent to his superfluous 
 indignation, and, allowing his features to relax into a hideous 
 smile, crept out into the road. He walked slowly along at 
 some distance behind the two men, keeping a little in the
 
 94 KATE WESTON. 
 
 shadow of the trees, with his hands in his pockets, and his 
 eyes fixed upon the ground, apparently in deep meditation. 
 Now and then he cast a furtive glance towards the pedestrians 
 before him, on every repetition of which he performed the 
 same peculiar evolution with his forefinger, and gave utter- 
 ance to a short husky laugh, not loud enough to be heard by 
 the apparent objects of his mirth. 
 
 Now, the office of Dr. Higgins being directly on his route, 
 he concluded to call upon that gentleman, who, in years gone 
 by, had been a bosom friend of his own. The doctor, as he 
 had hoped, was alone. 
 
 " What's the matter, Higgins ?" said the squint-eyed indi- 
 vidual, as he entered the office. " Got another fit of ague, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Slight touch," said that gentleman, shaking perceptibly, 
 " how do you find yourself to-day, Gamp ? Climate doesn't 
 affect you " 
 
 " Climate !'' sneered his companion. " I've tried pretty 
 much all the climates in this world, and I've had parsons 
 tell me I'd try the climate of another some day, ha ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 " I have to be so careful since I came out here," replied 
 Dr. Higgins. " I use every possible precaution, and yet I am 
 continually suffering. I will not, however, leave the office, 
 unless I have business elsewhere. Tread the mill steadily, 
 that's my motto. Business can't be neglected without a terri- 
 ble loss of money, and that, you know, / could ill afford ; for, 
 notwithstanding all my perseverance, I have been able to lay 
 up little, very little." He shook his head dolefully, and cer- 
 tainly presented the appearance of a man very poorly off in 
 the world, both as regarded health and wealth, for his dress 
 on the present occasion was decidedly seedy, and his rickety 
 body was lanker and shakier than ever. 
 
 "Oh! oh, Higgins," replied his visitor, with a knowing 
 squint of his ugly eye, " it's no use your stuffing me. I don't
 
 KATE -WESTON. 95 
 
 want any subscriptions or charities from you. But I've a 
 little business on hand. You remember I talked of purchas- 
 ing a lot from Mr. Clarence. I merely want to get you to 
 send Edward Clarence round to see about the business. 
 
 " What's that for ?" said Higgins quickly, to whom a per- 
 centage had been promised in the event of his selling the pro- 
 perty in question, "/am the agent of Mr. Clarence in^this 
 affair." 
 
 " I know my own business, I suppose," snarled Gamp. 
 "There's no use making words with you. Fact is, I've got a 
 notion for making the young dog drunk. I've a reason of my 
 own." 
 
 " Well, well," said Higgins, fidgeting a little, " I don't sup- 
 pose it will hurt him for once, but really, he's such a fine 
 fellow, I hope you won't take him too far. You see he hasn't 
 the prudence. Now, I never indulge beyond what is good 
 for my health, but he wouldn't think much of that, I imagine." 
 Here the lank doctor put a sanctimonious expression of 
 remonstrance on his cadaverous face, and passed his fingers 
 through his bristly hair. 
 
 " Gammon !" sneered Gamp, " do you suppose I don't IOIOAV 
 that you wouldn't care two straws if he or anybody else 
 were sprawling dead drunk in the gutter yonder, as long 
 as you made your spec out of the matter? It's no use. 
 You and I know one another, better by a long shot than 
 anybody else, I reckon. I'm an out-and-outer, you know I 
 am ; and if I succeed, I'll fork over a penny or two. Once 
 get him under my thumb, and I'll make him dance to a jolly 
 tune. Old dad's worth forty or fifty thousand dollars, I hear. 
 Rise of property, &c., &c. Sticks to his farm close as ever. 
 Fine man. O oh yes, capital man, hates the devil like poi- 
 son. So does the devil hate you, old boy, but he likes your 
 handsome son. Pride of father's heart, eh? We'll see 
 who'll win the battle. Maybe you'll spill blood and money 
 both for something you han't calculated on. Old codger, too,
 
 96 KATE WESTON. 
 
 maybe your boy'll come back again. Oh, yes, maybe he 
 will." 
 
 This address being evidently intended for some person or 
 persons not present, Dr. Higgins sat immovable during its 
 delivery, as though so accustomed to his companion's humors 
 as to pay no attention to them whatever. 
 
 To do Mr. Gamp justice, he never exhibited any of these 
 humors, save in the presence of this same gentleman, whose 
 heart being cast in nearly the same mold as his o\yn, was 
 capable of making allowance for any peculiarity in his man- 
 ner of exhibiting them. In all other society, he was the 
 obsequious, unassuming humble servant of everybody he did 
 or did not desire to please, so that the present interview 
 may be considered a peep scarcely lawful into a little private 
 eccentricity of character.
 
 KATE WESTON. 97 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AUNT BIDDY'S VISIT. 
 
 DOWN at the further end of the village, stood a small, 
 comfortable cottage, right in the middle of a long patch of 
 potatoes immediately joining the road. Behind the potatoes 
 another patch, where cabbages lifted up their wholesome 
 heads to the dew and sunshine, and behind them, still another 
 patch, smiling forth in the pride of onions, carrots, corn, &c. 
 The whole garden was just now considerably under weather, 
 from the fact of the lateness of the season having induced a 
 considerable digging of potatoes, cutting of cabbages, gather- 
 ing of corn, &c., &c. Enough, however, still remained to 
 show the abundance that had been, and to give evidence of a 
 bountiful supply for the cottage cellar. 
 
 The house was a one-story cottage, containing four good- 
 sized rooms, the parlor and kitchen being on one side of the 
 hall, and two bed-rooms on the other. A smart, happy-look- 
 ing woman, with a good-natured twist about the mouth, 
 stood in the open doorway, with arms akimbo, surveying the 
 whole establishment with an expression of unmitigated 
 delight. She wasn't at all out of the way either, in her 
 admiration of the premises, for everything looked bright and 
 pleasant about, from the row of glittering pans spread 
 ostentatiously along the bench over by the kitchen, to the 
 shiny faces of the children playing before the door. The 
 house was painted white, and at each of the four front win- 
 dows, a green paper curtain supplied the lack of outer blinds. 
 
 5
 
 98 KATE WESTON. 
 
 '! he steps and hall were well-scrubbed, and the parlor-door 
 standing open, revealed a very bright rag-carpet upon the 
 lloor. The whole half-dozen children in clean jackets, gowns, 
 and pinafores, were gamboling up and down in front of the 
 cottage, between the narrow flower-beds, reveling in the 
 prospect of Aunt Biddy's cookies and sugar plums. 
 
 A comical-looking lot of children they were. Very much 
 alike, with white hair, pale blue eyes, and faces rounder, if 
 possible, than any apple. Not ill-favored, either, with such a 
 rosy hue of health, and such a superfluity of good nature in 
 their simple fat faces. The two oldest boys had long ago 
 attained to the dignity of jacket and trowsers, a position 
 greatly envied by three-year-old Johnny, who had not yet 
 doffed gown and petticoats. The white heads of the three 
 girls were ornamented, on the present occasion, by sundry 
 knots of sky-blue ribbon, and their white necks encircled by 
 sundry strings of large glass beads, worn only on holidays, 
 and highly prized as Aunt Biddy's gift on her last visit. 
 
 As Mrs. Toole stood admiring her hopeful family, another 
 woman came stalking up the road. Very lean, very 
 yellow, with a very low forehead, and very cross eyes, she 
 was quite ugly enough Avithout the peculiar expression 
 induced by the powerful magnetic attraction appearing to 
 exist between the outer corners of mouth and eyes. "What's 
 to pay ?" said she, glancing inquisitively at the children in 
 their elegant attire. 
 
 " Why, you see, neighbor Jones," said Mrs. Toole, "Bridget 
 is coming up to-day, an' I was wanting to git the young 'uns 
 tidied up a bit, to let her see how nice we're thriving. 
 They're a pretty tolerable set, considering." 
 
 " Uncommon children," answered Mrs. Jones, in a quick, 
 nervous manner. " I wish to mercy my children'd nudge 
 about as good-natured as yourn. They're forever in some 
 sort o' wrangle or t'other. You have easy times of it, that's 
 a fact."
 
 KATE WESTON. 99 
 
 "Don't stand outside there," said Mrs. Toole, "just step 
 into the parlor; Mike, now," added she, giving the oldest 
 boy a thump upon the head, " how dare you be afther turning 
 a somerset with your Sunday clothes on ? Do it again, an' 
 I'll lick you. Can't you keep decent more nor five minutes 
 together ? Och, I'll settle yiz, if ye' re afther making yourselves 
 all of a muss afore your Aunty comes." So saying, she bust 
 led into the house, followed by her vinegar-faced companion, 
 and enforcing her threat by a shake of her doubled fist . out 
 of the parlor window. 
 
 " Dear me," commenced her visitor, raising both hands in 
 astonishment, " you've got a carpet on your floor. Massey 
 me, wouldn't I like to see Eben a gitting of a carpet ? He 
 holds on to the money mighty tight. Now, I couldn't git a 
 carpet o' him, if I was to go down on my knees to him. 
 And do see those chairs, all painted up so bright. Catch 
 him a painting up his chairs. But some folks has easy times 
 of it!" Here the aggrieved lady rolled up her eyes in 
 resignation to her fate, and brisk Mrs. Toole smiled as she 
 answered. 
 
 " Faith now, and Teddy is afther gitting all these things 
 new last month. It's niver a ha'porth I ax him for, but ho 
 fetches straight home til me. The other day I sez to him, 
 'Now Pathrick hinny,' sez I, 'we've got as dacent a lot 
 o' childher as ye'd see atween here an' New York, only they 
 want fixing up a bit. Couldn't you take a little out iv the 
 money you've laid up, an' buy a bit o' something to put upon 
 their backs. Sure, I'd like to see them looking a little gin- 
 teel, as well as other folkses childher ? Well, what did the 
 darlint do, but go straight away an' buy apiece iv the very best 
 check til make them new aprons, an' six yards of woolen plaid 
 till make new suits for the boys. I said when he got home, 
 sez I, ' Now, childher, if you don't walk mighty straight in 
 your new clothes, I'll be into ivery blissed mother's son iv 
 yiz,' an' they all the time a capering an' a hopping about the
 
 100 KATE WESTON 
 
 house, an' Teddy jist standing, and looking on, so delighted 
 like, an' niver saying a word." 
 
 " Well now, I declare," sighed her companion, with another 
 gesture of resignation. " But some folks is born to be lucky ! 
 My young uns han't seen the color of a new suit, not all of 
 'em together, since the day they were born. I'm forever 
 patchin' on 'em up, with some o' their daddy's old clothes, 
 an' now an' then, he gits 'em some gimcrack or other just to 
 satisfy 'em. Did you say as how Bridget was a comin' up 
 this afternoon ?" 
 
 "Sure," answered her friend, "an' it's expectin' her ivery 
 minute, I am now. Bliss her soul, it's niver a sorry heart can 
 stay long wi her jolly face. Be the blissed Vargin, but 
 there goes that young spalpeen a kickin' up his heels agin. 
 He'll be afther ruinin' hisself intirely. Jist now, Mikey, I'll 
 break your blissed head, if you dare to turn another somerset 
 till you're out of bed to-morrow morning." 
 
 The white-headed boy brought himself square upon his 
 feet at this terrible announcement, but seemed not the least 
 disconcerted, considering the excessive improbability of his 
 being able to keep himself straight for such an unreasonable 
 length of time. 
 
 " Goodey gracious !" ejaculated Mrs. Jones, " I think you 
 have mighty easy times with your children, when you can 
 make 'em mind like that. There isn't a day o' my life, I 
 don't give all mine a wollopin', but it don't do a bit o' good. 
 They cant about, an' tip over the chairs, an' ride on the tables, 
 an' pull the rooster's tail, an' chop off the cabbages till I'm 
 a'most crazy wi H their carryin's on. I do think sometimes 
 I shall have to gi>e up in despair, and then I get all out o' 
 patience agin, an' whop 'em about enough to make 'em the 
 blessedest, good-natur'dest creeturs in all the Univarse. An' 
 for all that, there's no livin' with 'em. I have mighty hard 
 times of it, I can tell you." The unhappy suiferer finished 
 off with a lugubrious shake of the head, inducing a belief in
 
 KATE WESTON. 101 
 
 her listener of her actually having the hardest; times that ever 
 might, could, would, or should be. 
 
 " Och, I kin manage aisy enough," answered the other ; 
 " my childher always mind fast enough when T spake ; to be 
 sure, I have it to say til them over an' over agin, but childher 
 is childher, an' there's niver a bit o' use in expectin' iv them 
 til act like men an' women. Kitty, Kitty, stop a diggin' your 
 fingers in the dirt, or I'll be out there afther you. Kape 
 yourselves clane, ivery one iv yiz, agin your Aunty comes." 
 
 The command fas lost upon the children, for Michael, at 
 this moment catching a glimpse of a stout, wholesome look- 
 ing figure parading down the road, uttered a shout of triumph, 
 and utterly forgetful of his mother's threat, turned one ecsta- 
 tic somerset, and galloped up the road, with Kitty, Maggie, 
 and Patrick at his heels, while little Johnny and Biddy trotted 
 on behind, in a vain attempt to keep pace with their older 
 brothers and sisters. 
 
 " Och, bliss all the darlint sowls o' yiz," cried Biddy, catch- 
 ing the two foremost in her arms, and imprinting a hearty 
 smack upon their fat cheeks. "How are ye all? Jist for all 
 the world like a lot iv splindid cabbage-roses. How's 
 daddy, Mike ? an' mammy ? Jist come over, here, you Mag 
 an'JPat; aren't you ashamed o' yourselves til come away an' 
 lave them blissed little angels til trot along by .theirselves ? 
 Here Biddy hinny, I've got sugar-plums for ye, an' for all 
 iv yiz, when ye're oncet at home." So saying, the happy 
 laundress bore down upon the cottage with a niece on one 
 arm, and a nephew on the other, all three with a broad grin 
 of satisfaction upon their faces, while the no less delighted 
 mother stood at the gate waiting to welcome her guest. 
 
 " Well now Biddy, how are ye ?" she cried, catching her 
 hand, and shaking it heartily as soon as the two children were 
 deposited ; " lookin like a cricket, I declare. I needn't til ax 
 you." Upon this there came quite a little shower of ques- 
 tions, followed by a larger shower of sugar plums, amid smiles
 
 102 KATE ^ESTON*. 
 
 shouts and kisses, on the part of the whole family in general, 
 not to mention grunts and somersets on the part of Michael 
 in particular, who could not for his life avoid using them as a 
 sort of escape-valve for his superfluous delight. 
 
 Hat and shawl having been laid aside, and the questions 
 of more immediate importance answered to the satisfaction 
 of all parties, brisk Mrs. Kitty grew very anxious to exhibit 
 to Miss Biddy the novelties of her menage, of which fact the 
 latter being perfectly aware, she exclaimed, as soon as practi- 
 cable, " Well Kitty, can't ye be afther telliqg a body what ye 
 've got since I was here ? A power o' fine things, I'm sure, 
 be the looks iv yiz," at the same time casting admiring glances 
 upon the bran new suits of the children, and the smart carpet 
 on the parlor floor. 
 
 " Why Biddy," said her sister-in-law in a cheerful tone, 
 " you see the way iv it was this. The other day Teddy comes 
 into the kitchen with his face all of a grin, an' sez he, 'Kitty,' 
 sez he, 'would ye be afther likin' a new carpet for the parlor? 
 I've bin a lookin' af some.' ' An' Patrick, hinny,' sez I, ' but 
 I'd be greatly plazed with that same. Sure, now you've got 
 sivinty five dollars laid up, it wouldn't be foolish on you til 
 buy one." 
 
 " ' Kitty,' sez he, ' have ye been intil the parlor this morn- 
 ing f ' No,' sez I, ' it's niver a fut I've laid inside iv it. An' 
 sure it took me the whole day to milk the cows an' churn the 
 butter.' ' Jist come in a minnit thin,' sez he, ' an' see how 
 much it would take til cover the floor.' So I went a briskin' 
 in afther him, an' there was this splindid carpet spread all 
 over so nice an' smooth, an' thim six new chairs. Faith, an' 
 what did I do, but jist drop down intil one iv thim, an' begin 
 til cry for delight intirely. Somehow all iv a suddint it come 
 back til me, how Teddy used to be afther spinding ivery blis- 
 sed cent he aimed for the dhrink, carin' niver a bit for his 
 wife an' childher, as long as the crathur had a howlt iv him, 
 an' how we had many's the time to go hungry an' cowld,
 
 KATE -WESTON. 103 
 
 with no coverin' barrin a bit iv miserable rags, an' how the 
 poor childher used to cry, an' run away up the street whiniver 
 they heard their father a coming. Och, but it was a blissed 
 day we iver came out to Laconia ; the blissedest day for us, 
 we've seen since we came out of owld Ireland." 
 
 Biddy thought of the new saloon, and a sudden little 
 twinge caught at her heart, but she battled it off, and looked 
 quite as happy as her sanguine sister, who tried to keep back 
 two or three obstinate tears that would trickle down her sun- 
 burnt face. All this time Mrs. Jones was fully occupied with 
 the conversation, and the children were equally busy with 
 their treasures. At this point, Mrs. Jones put in a word of 
 surprise. " Bless my soul, who'd ha' thought you was ever 
 so bad off as that, now ? But, dear me, your Teddy was 
 never the cross-grained feller my Eben is at all. I dessay I've 
 got worse times than you ever had." 
 
 " Why neighbor Jones," said Biddy, " it's sorry I am to 
 hear ye've niver got rid iv yer throubles yit." 
 
 " But I havn't shown you the half iv my new things," said 
 Mrs. Kitty, leading the way into the kitchen. This apartment 
 served the purposes of cooking, eating, working, playing, and 
 all other occupations in which the family happened to be 
 engaged. The floor was smooth and white, the cupboard 
 presented an imposing array of well-brightened pewter mugs 
 and pitchers, and the "chayney," the epithet bestowed upon 
 a set of blue earthenware, was ostentatiously ranged on the 
 upper shelves to be used only when company were present. 
 Everything about looked cosy. The stove was blackened, the 
 kettle was singing cheerfully aw'ay, the table-cloth was spread 
 upon a table in the middle of the room, and everything bore 
 marks of having been rubbed up for the occasion. 
 
 Mrs. Toole looked up to her sister-in-law as to a loving 
 mother, and took the same pleasure in showing off her 
 various household treasures, even to iron pots and tin steam-
 
 104 KATE WESTON. 
 
 ers, in all which minor particulars her guest took as deep an 
 interest as could have been expected 
 
 " But won't Teddy be afther crowin' when he catches a 
 sight iv you ?" said the bustling little housewife, proceeding 
 in her preparation for tea by ranging along upon the table 
 the whole set of " chayney " for children and all, regardless 
 of the breakage that might ensue. " He knows niver a word 
 iv yer coming at all, at all. It was Mr. Edward hisself told 
 us this very afternoon. Kitty, Kitty," she called, popping 
 her head out of the window, " jist run down an' fetch up them 
 stewed pears, an' the butter, there's a hinny." 
 
 " The children's forgot about you aready ;" remarked Mrs. 
 Jones, a little envious of the hold the new comer had on all 
 hearts ; " that's just like mine, han't got no more feelin' nor a 
 stone. You might die, and they'd forget it next minnit." 
 
 "Och, an' I'm afther sending iv them out to tell their 
 father," cried Mrs. Toole, "I couldn't have them tumbling 
 about undher my feet when I was wanting a quiet talk wi' 
 Biddy. He'll be along jist directly now. There, sure the 
 tay's ready, all but the biscake, an' I won't be taking on'em 
 out till he's here, or they'll all get cowld." 
 
 And a very tempting tea it was. Golden butter, stewed 
 pears, some slices of cold ham, a tremendous custard-pudding, 
 and the biscuit that were yet to come, would have formed a 
 repast that an epicure would have relished. But when we 
 take into account the happiness of a reunion, the consciousness 
 of ease and plenty, contrasted with the poverty and heartsick- 
 ness of years gone by, the pride of a well ordered home, the 
 love that is always looking for some new mode of manifesta- 
 tion, it was a repast that many a prouder home might have 
 longed and striven for, and never, although aided by wealth 
 and rank, been able to attain. 
 
 Matters having been thus satisfactorily arranged in the 
 kitchen, the ladies returned to the parlor. Mrs. Jones, who
 
 KATE WESTON. 105 
 
 had an eye to the tempting table, seemed to be in no hurry 
 whatever, notwithstanding her family of troublesome children 
 at home. Mrs. Kitty, being a little warm with trying to blow 
 the fire, took a seat opposite the window, commanding a view 
 of the road down which her husband was to come, like a 
 loving wife as she was, and commenced fanning herself with 
 her apron. 
 
 " Mother, mother," cried Kitty, poking her head in at the 
 window, " Johnny's afther pulling off all the big marigolds, 
 won't ye plaze call him in." 
 
 " Johnny," cried she, in a tone that might have been the 
 forerunner of a terrible punishment, " come in here, till I give 
 you a bating. Come right in. Och, you little spalpeen, how 
 dare you ?" As the last words were uttered, she caught the 
 " little spalpeen " in both arms, giving him the promised, beat- 
 ing with a pair of lips that must have been very powerful, 
 judging from the noise they made, then resuming her seat, 
 she winked at Bridget, saying in an under tone, " He is the 
 smartest little chap now, that iver ye saw, Biddy. Why 
 wasn't it only yestherday, sez I to Teddy, ' now Teddy,' sez I, 
 'meself will just leave the chaze in the far cellar for fear iv the 
 mice ;' sure an' I left it there, and when I went afther the 
 same, wasn't it all gone intirely ? and didn't I ax ivery one iv 
 the childher, Mike, an' Kitty, an' Pathrick, an' Mag, an' niver 
 think iv axin Johnny, an' didn't the little spalpeen come over, 
 an' stick his finger in his mouth, an' look so sly ? Then I 
 axes him, ' Johnny,' sez I, ' do you know where the chaze be'sF 
 an' didn't the weeny fox jist open up his mouth, an' put his 
 fat finger half way down his throat til show me ? O, the 
 young " 
 
 At this point Mrs. Kitty, who had been now and then look- 
 ing up the road, uttered a short quick cry, " Och, och, o och !" 
 and dropped very far back in her chair. 
 
 " What is the matther wid ye ?" cried Biddy, running up to 
 her, and holding her head. " Is it sick ye are, Kitty ?" 
 
 5*
 
 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Poor Kitty didn't answer, only opened her eyes and tried 
 to speak. Failing in this, she veered off into what -would 
 have been in any fashionable lady a regular fit of hysterics, 
 but what in Mrs. Kitty Toole, could not possibly have had a 
 name at all. " Jist unhook her gown," cried Biddy, as Mrs. 
 Jones came up, " Bless her sowl, what on earth's come over 
 her ? She'll be afther faintin' if we don't look out." Just 
 then Mike came dashing in with a whole troop at his heels, 
 
 and began " Mother, mother, father's " ; upon seeing the 
 
 peculiar state of affairs, he stopped short, forgetting the pur- 
 port of his communication, in the sudden start at seeing his 
 mother in such an apparently critical situation. After a little, 
 the two eldest became alarmed and set up a yell, which was 
 very soon chorused by the rest, to the no small discomfiture 
 of Aunt Biddy. 
 
 " Whist, hinnies, whist," she began, " Mother" but the 
 young hopefuls commenced in a second strain with more spirit 
 if posssible than before. In the midst of it all, in came the 
 cause of all the trouble, poor, good-natured Teddy, staggering 
 along to where the two Avomen were busy with his wife. At 
 sight of him, the half-dozen children stopped short in the 
 midst of a tremendous scream, Mrs. Jones looked astonished, 
 Kitty, who had somewhat recovered, sat gazing with glassy 
 eyes upon the reeling form, and Biddy stood with her hands 
 clasped, the image of despair. 
 
 " What is the matter wid yiz all ?" he cried, catching hold 
 of a chair, " why Biddy, hinny, how are ye ? Sorra's the day 
 ye sint me away from ye, Biddy. Shake hands Biddy. Ye're 
 me mother, Biddy, sure ye was always me mother." Here 
 the speaker reeled himself down into a chair, with his head 
 hanging down, while his sister stood there before him, with- 
 out speaking or moving for some minutes. At length her 
 heart found utterance in slow, broken words, " Och, Teddy, 
 Teddy, an' was it for this I've had ye for iver an' always at 
 the very core iv me heart, a prayin' for ye, an' toilin' for ye,
 
 " Whist, hinnies, whist," she began, " Mother 1 ' but the young hopefuls commenced 
 in a second strain with more spirit if possible than before. In the midst of it all, in 
 came the cause of all the trouble, poor, good-natured Teddy, staggering along to 
 where the two women were busv with his wife. P. IOC.
 
 KATE WE8TOX. 107 
 
 an' bearin wid ye in all yer folly ? Sure ye were safe away out 
 iv die net, an' ye couldn't kape yerself away, and whin ye 
 were aftlier gettin' along so smart, and fixin' up so conifortal 
 wid yer wee house, and yer nice garden, and yer wife an' 
 childher lookin' as fine as any gintleman's, an' friskin' like so 
 many butterflies an' yer coinin' home ivery night to a happy 
 family; no more hunger, no more cowld, no more throuble au' 
 misery iv sowl all pace, an' joy, an' contint an' all clane 
 gone intirely !" 
 
 " But it's not you, Pathrick," she wailed, as the tears streamed 
 over her face, " I know'd it, I know'd it ; och Ameriky, Amer- 
 iky ! ye've niver a spot in all yer broad bosom to shel- 
 ther the likes iv him. Ye may talk of openin' yer doors to 
 the poor son iv Ireland when the cruel hunger is dhriving 
 him from the home of his father's, but sure an' it is worse 
 than farnhie here, O O ch !" 
 
 The children, who had stood quiet during this outpouring 
 of poor Biddy's soul, being headed by Mike, commenced 
 where they had abruptly left off, in a manner that would not 
 be controlled. Their father lifted up his head, looking stupidly 
 about, and muttering, " What are ye at now ? afther makin' 
 such a blarmed row." 
 
 Biddy seeing that she alone was to be depended upon, after 
 a vast amount of persuasion, succeeded in getting her brother 
 to bed, and the children settled about the supper-table, where 
 they soon forgot their troubles in the good things that were 
 set unreservedly before them. As for the rest, poor things, 
 they hadn't the heart to touch a mouthful. Kitty sat just 
 where she was until her husband was in bed, and Mrs. Jones 
 had gone home, wondering if it could be a real fact that 
 "that stuck up, conceited Kitty Toole had actually had a 
 fall." 
 
 She sat there all the time that Biddy was clearing away the 
 supper, and putting the kitchen in order. While the cow was 
 milked, and the pans were set, while the children were being
 
 108 KATE WESTON. 
 
 undressed and carried off to bed, just as fixed and rigid as 
 ever. 
 
 Poor Kitty Toole ! The door was opened, and she could 
 see the path they had to tread, and the companions of their 
 journey, drunkenness, poverty, sickness, toil, guilt, death ! 
 Well might she gaze with that stony glance, down such an 
 avenue, leading to such an end !
 
 KATE WESTON. 109 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE fire was burning in the chimney as before. The irons 
 were brightly polished, the hearth was clean, the chandelier 
 was brilliantly illuminated, the decanters glistened along the 
 shelves, the luscious fruit lay upon the counter. Newspapers 
 were scattered round upon the marble tables, and large arm- 
 chairs looked friendly to repose. The door was standing 
 open, the window-blinds were up, displaying to the chance 
 passer such fruit and such pastry as Laconia had never seen 
 before. 
 
 Jt was just at the dusk of evening. Laborers that hurried 
 by in red flannel and corduroy, looked into the bright win- 
 dows, and then at their plebeian dress, inwardly resolving to 
 return when supper was over, with newer boots and cleaner 
 clothes. Children put their faces against the glass, gazing 
 with hungry eyes upon the cream-cakes, oysters, oranges, 
 grapes, as though they wished the forbidding pane were 
 gone. Women looked longingly into the brilliant room, 
 and thought it an infringement of their rights that only the 
 other sex were invited to enter. Now and then one, some 
 thoughtful-looking woman, or some grave-faced man, passed 
 with a shadow gathering on the face, and anything but a bles- 
 sing rising in the heart. 
 
 The worthy proprietor of the establishment bustled about, 
 re-laying some delinquent orange that had rolled upon the 
 floor, or giving a finishing touch to some ornamental flower- 
 basket that lay heaped with the choicest dahlias interspersed 
 with boxwood and myrtle, and surrounded by a circle of 
 green moss, gathered from the neighboring wood.
 
 110 KATE WE8TON. 
 
 But Mr. Gamp was not the only individual bustling about 
 the institution. A Jboy of some sixteen or seventeen years 
 hurried back and forth from the cellar to the saloon, expedit- 
 ing the freezing of the cream, the opening of the oysters 
 &c. &c., and never stepped across the sill without looking at 
 his companion. He seemed to draw life from the presence of 
 that gentleman, so close was the watch he kept iipon his 
 motions, so evidently was he afraid to stir without his sanc- 
 tion. The poor boy looked pale and thin, as though fretted 
 away with anxiety and trouble. There was not a line about 
 his face, nor a motion of his figure that did not remind one 
 of some shadow that had fallen on the boy's life, some inde- 
 finable terror that always brooded over him, awake or asleep, 
 as though he walked, ate, slept in some vague dream from 
 which he had no power to awake. 
 
 " Come, Bill," said Mr. Gamp, " is that Madeira up from the 
 cellar yet? You young vagabond, why don't you obey 
 orders ? Didn't I tell you to fetch that an hour ago ? What 
 
 the do you stand there gaping about ? I'll take the hide 
 
 off your back if you can't dispense with that detestable 
 stare." 
 
 The boy turned upon his heel without a word. A very 
 peculiar smile played about his. master's very peculiar mouth 
 as he disappeared, while that gentleman muttered, " Oh, oh- 
 yes, maybe he will." 
 
 Having arranged everything to the nicety of a hair, Mr. 
 Gamp dropped into one of the luxurious chairs, and began 
 reckoning something, gazing all the time straight into the 
 blaze. Was any voice whispering to him promises of wealth 
 and success ? " Twenty-five by seven, Seven times five are 
 thirty-five. Seven times two are fourteen, and three are seven- 
 teen. One hundred and seventy-five dollars a week. Clear 
 two thousand a year at that rate." Again he gazed into the 
 fire. Was anything smiling from its heart to bring that 
 strange smile out upon his face ?
 
 KATE WESTON. HI 
 
 The boy had by this time returned, seating himself by 
 the high desk at one end of the counter, from belli nd which 
 he could watch the muser unobserved. He glanced at the 
 clock. Twenty minutes after six. It was time for them to 
 begin coming. He cast his eyes towards the door. An 
 open-faced young man, not more than twenty-two years of 
 age, dressed quite commonly, was coming up the steps. 
 
 " Walk in," said Mr. Gamp, coming forward to meet him 
 " Happy to see you, sir. Will you look over the papers ?" 
 
 The respectful tone was extremely flattering to the new 
 comer, who thought to himself, " Fine place, this treated 
 like a gentleman. Liberty and equality that is their motto. 
 I like such men. Shall drop in now and then." He glanced 
 over the paper, after which he turned to the boy, stamping on 
 the floor with his foot and calling, " Here, boy." 
 
 The person addressed darted towards him, still keeping his 
 eyes fixed upon Gamp. 
 
 " Bring me some oysters, and a glass of soda water." 
 
 " Better try our sangaree," interposed Mr. Gamp, with a 
 fascinating smile. " Capital, I can assure you." 
 
 The young man hesitated for a moment, and shook his 
 head. " A glass of soda, sir." 
 
 His call was answered in a few moments by the boy, who 
 set down before him a steaming dish of oysters, and a glass 
 of the beverage for which he had called. The young man 
 fell to in earliest, but before he was half through, in walked 
 our friends of the fishing party, Messrs. Reid and Myers, 
 tapping their canes against their teeth, and tipping their hats 
 jauntily on one side. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen" said Mr. Gamp, bowing politely, 
 " what'll you take ? Oysters or cream \ Rather cold for 
 cream now, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, by Jove !" exclaimed Myers, " something to warm us 
 up a bit, my man. Jim, are you in want of the needful ?" 
 
 w No thiree," answered his friend, " only confounded dry.
 
 112 KATE WESTON. . 
 
 Let's try a little champagne, Ned. I wouldn't mind a dozen 
 raw oythterth. Here, Billy boy, jutht fetch uth a bottle of 
 champagne, and a couple of plateth of raw oythterth. Do 
 you underthtand ?" 
 
 Billy boy nodded his head, and started in the fulfillment of 
 the order. Mr. Reid was in the habit of assuming an air of 
 dignity that sat upon his slender person very much as a 
 crown might be supposed to sit upon a puppy's head. So 
 that on the present occasion, although testifying his admira- 
 tion at the agreeable state of affairs to his companion by 
 sundry winks and nods, he did not condescend to make any 
 remark upon the subject, further than observing in a lofty 
 tone 
 
 "Quite an enterprithing chap, Ned," at the same time 
 giving a slight nod in the direction of the obsequious proprie- 
 tor, who read his paper, and looked agreeable enough to 
 provoke a warmer compliment. 
 
 " Here, Jim, take some champagne. See how it foams. 
 Here's to your health, my boy," exclaimed Myers, taking his 
 glass off at a single pull. " No namby-pamby, this the gen- 
 uine article." 
 
 . " Deliciouth," cried his companion, sipping it affectedly. 
 " Couldn't find better at Taylor'th. We'll be in a ficth when 
 we get back to old Precth. Bleth my thoul, he'd annihilate 
 uth, if he knew we were getting boothy every night. What 
 a lecture we would get." 
 
 " Remember the time we smuggled it down the chimney ?" 
 asked his companion. " Old fox didn't catch us that time ; 
 we're rather too much for Prex ; ha, ha, ha. Have another 
 glass, Jim ?" 
 
 " Thertainly," replied Mr. Reid. "When did you ever 
 know me to leave off with the firtht glath ? but you've a poor 
 opinion of my attainmenth. Herelth to the pretty Quaker- 
 eth." 
 
 "Pretty Kate Weston," cried his companion. " Better not
 
 KATE WESTON. 113 
 
 say much here ; little Kate might get miffed, and that would 
 not do at all. Seen Spooney to-day, Jim ? He going to col- 
 lege ? Won't he make fun for the Adelphi, vulgarly styled 
 Dolphins ?" 
 
 " With his lofty collar," remarked Mr. Reid. " He only 
 thpeakth when thpoken to. That'th what my granny would 
 call a good boy. No doubt Profth will remark the thame 
 thing. Oh, Mithter Thteele, you have my betht wisheth for 
 your thuctheth." 
 
 " What a deuced bore," said Myers, " to have him for a 
 chum. If his dad hadn't been so anxious to place him under 
 my guardianship, I should have shuffled him onto you. " I 
 don't keep him more than one term, I'll warrant you. He'll 
 learn a thing or two in that time, don't you believe it, Jim ?" 
 " Ha, ha, ha," answered Mr. Reid, " you're the chap for the 
 money. You'll teach him. But it ith a confounded bore, 
 and no mi th take. However, you can make your own fun out 
 of him. He'th one of your regular book-wormth, I'll be 
 bound. I believe he enter'th the junior year." 
 
 " He'll escape being freshman," remarked Myers. " Never 
 mind that ; if he isn't a freshman he's a green-man, at any 
 rate. It'll be all the same for sport ; just get him cornered 
 sometime in an awkward box, and let the Prof, in upon him, 
 wouldn't he cut a figure now ?" 
 
 The two friends laughed immoderately at the possible event 
 upon which they were calculating, and replenished their 
 glasses, while the other young man looked wistfully a number 
 of times at the foaming wine, thinking to himself, " Really 
 now, I don't see what harm a couple of glasses would do. 
 Mother'd never know it. I needn't drink any more. To be 
 sure, I don't want to make her unhappy. Mary's a little no" 
 tion for young Buswell. It would make me sprightlier and 
 handsomer. 'Twould be a pity to lose her to that blubber- 
 headed fellow. To be sure, I went too far before ; that's no 
 proof I shall do the same thing now. I'll be very temperate."
 
 114 KATE WE6TOX. 
 
 Having thus determined, he called again, " Billy, boy, I will 
 take a glass of sangaree." 
 
 " Rather expensive, considering your mother," whispered 
 conscience. 
 
 " Safer than brandy and water," suggested prudence. 
 
 " Better take none at all," conscience put in again. 
 
 But there it stood, sparkling and foaming before him, just 
 as he had fancied it so many* times when he longed for it, as 
 he was longing now, and he could not resist the temptation. 
 It was placed before him. His eye sparkled, his hand 
 trembled ; but he put it to his lips, and the Rubicon was passed. 
 
 Others now came flocking in. First came a stout, middle- 
 aged man, looking as though he took delight in the good 
 things of this world. Then an awkward, red-whiskered fel- 
 low, stalking in with a half grin upon his face. Then Mr. 
 Flip, the village lawyer, and a client from New York, whom 
 he thought it advisable to conciliate by every means in his 
 power. Then poor Teddy Toole, after trying in vain to steer 
 safely by the tempting spot. Then Edward Clarence, who 
 had dropped in for the sole purpose of glancing over the 
 morning papers, with the bashful boy following in his wake. 
 Then a great many more of all classes and ages ; and last, 
 not least, a large, powerfully built negro, with a row of teeth 
 that seemed ambitious of exhibiting themselves to the utmost 
 of their ability, and a face indicative of any amount of droll 
 good humor and unaffected honesty. 
 
 " Lame Joe !" exclaimed a dozen voices at once. 
 " He's the man for my chinks," cried Mr. Wilks, the mid- 
 dle-aged gentleman. "Come, Joe, I'll treat you. What'll 
 you have." 
 
 Joe's grin, if possible, was broader than before, as he stood 
 for some minutes quite undecided, scratching his woolly pate 
 with a puzzled air. 
 
 "What's the matter, Joe?" cried Wilks, "can't you 
 decide t"
 
 KATE WESTON. 115 
 
 Joe only scratched away with more vehemence, and rolled 
 his black eyes over the company as if taking a very comical 
 view of human nature, as then and there die-played. 
 
 " Why do you want to exhibit the whites of your eyes ?" 
 cried Myers, trying to look aristocratic. " Genteel niggers 
 never do so." 
 
 Joe turned awkwardly round to the young gentleman, 
 remarking, 
 
 " Law sakes, massa, I don't purtend to be genteel. I leave 
 dat for de dandy niggers. He, he, he !" 
 
 " Well, Joe, what will you have ?" again asked Mr. Wilks. 
 " Some brandy and water, or gin sling, or a glass of punch, 
 eh ?" 
 
 The darkey recommenced scratching his head, in as unde- 
 cided a manner as ever. 
 
 "What on earth's the matter?" cried the red-whiskered 
 Jonathan Meeks, losing patience at the delay. 
 
 " Why, I was thinking, 'pears Rosy won't like it if I gits 
 tipsy. I do'no now." 
 
 The general laugh induced by the visible perplexity of poor 
 Joe, only served to increase his good nature, while Mr. Reid 
 interposed, " Oh, Rothy won't care, Joe. Rothy'th a good 
 thoul. She'll forgive you." 
 
 Being quite certain that Rosy was a good soul, Joe decided 
 to take a gin sling, which decision brought the company back 
 to themselves, and their own appetites. Billy was kept run- 
 ning for a full half hour with oysters, porter, fruit, Madeira, 
 and brandy and water, while Mr. Gamp kept up a battery of 
 smiles, bows, and well-timed compliments, that caused the 
 company to set him down for a decidedly agreeable fel- 
 low. 
 
 Mr. Reid, having by this time taken enough to be able to 
 lay aside a little of his dignity, began to be somewhat com- 
 municative. 
 
 " Mithter Gamp, I thay you are a public benefactor, and
 
 116 KATE WESTON. 
 
 ath thuth, detberve the good wisheth of the community. 
 Pray what induthed you to thtart thith ethtablithment ?" 
 
 " I was so advised by Mr. Dunn," replied Mr. Gamp, with 
 one of his most winning smiles. 
 
 "A fine stand this, sir." 
 
 " Capital stand," answered Myers. " Not another place in 
 the whole neighborhood where you can procure a drop of 
 anything in the way of wine or even brandy. Unenterprising 
 place this." 
 
 The bashful boy took the present occasion of frowning to 
 Edward over the .top of his shirt-collar, while Edward deli- 
 berately broke a cracker into his oysters. 
 
 "Did you hear, Mithter Myerth," said Reid, "that Mith 
 Araminta hath eloped with Marteau. A pretty bithneth it'll 
 be for her, Marteau'th poor ath a church mouth, he'th been 
 gammoning her with great thtories about thouthern plauta- 
 tionth and all that. She'll get thick enough of her bargain 
 in a month." 
 
 The two young collegians, when alone, always addressed 
 each other as "Jim," and "Ned," but whenever others wore 
 present, endeavored to inspire respect by using the "Mr." 
 before their names. 
 
 " The deuce," cried Myers, " I had my eye on her myself. 
 Great heiress and charming girl. Marteau's gambled all his 
 property away, and he wants another fortune now. Shameful 
 business that. He'll make a wretcn of a husband. Got a 
 mischief of a temper." 
 
 " That ain't the beth of it though," cried Reid. " They 
 thay her father'll cut her off with a shilling. He loved her 
 half to death, but he'th a very determind temper. Declareth 
 he'll never thee her again." 
 
 " Poor thing," said Myers, " she'll have a' sorry time of it, 
 she's a little fool to marry such a chap. Why couldn't she 
 wait for me now. I'd have made her a better husband, I'll 
 be bound."
 
 KATE WESTON. 117 
 
 The young man who had first entered the saloon, having 
 finished his oysters and sangaree, was preparing to depart, 
 when the red-whiskered individual called out, " Hallo, Brown, 
 you ain't going yet. Come sit down here, and let's have a 
 little chat. It's an age since I've had a chance to see you." 
 
 The young man glanced at the clock, and thinking it rather 
 early to call on Mary, he sat down at the table with his 
 friend. " Boy boy," cried Mr. Meeks, "just bring us a couple 
 of glasses of hot brandy and water." " Not for me," said 
 young Brown, in a hurried manner, " nothing at all for me." 
 
 " Nonsense," cried Meeks, " can't you let a fellow treat you, 
 boy, when he's got a chance ? You shall take it." 
 
 " You must not press me,' v returned Brown, " indeed I can- 
 not take any more to night." 
 
 "Indeed," said Gamp, just then happening by, "this is 
 some of the finest brandy you ever tasted, sir." 
 
 " You won't be so uncivil," said Meeks. 
 
 " He's afraid Mary'll smell his breath," said the stout 
 gentleman. The quizzical looks with which those in his 
 immediate vicinity regarded him, decided the matter at once; 
 he took the large tumbler, mixed very strong, with the deter- 
 mination of not finishing it ; but it was so invigorating that 
 his resolution vanished, and by the time that was gone, he 
 was in a "plaguy state of indecision," as he styled it, and 
 thinking it was now his turn to treat, ordered a couple more 
 glasses, after partaking of which he was entirely oblivious to 
 all the danger he had previously anticipated. 
 
 "Mithter Clarence," said Reid, turning toward Edward, 
 who sat at the table immediately behind him, "you don't 
 take any wine. What's the matter ? Allow me to fill a glath 
 for you, Mithter Thteele ?" 
 
 " Thank you," said Edward, taking it from his band. " No 
 thank you," said William Steele, drawing back as it was pre- 
 sented to him, " I never take wine." 
 
 A sly wink from Myers induced Reid to push his invitation.
 
 118 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " I beg of you not to be fathtidiouth in the prethent com- 
 pany ; none of utli conthider it wrong to indulge a little now 
 and then. Juth try it, if you pleath." 
 
 " Excuse rae sir," said William, coloring both from confusion 
 and indignation. lie saw easily enough that they were quiz- 
 zing him. 
 
 "By Jove," said Myers, "you'll be looked down upon in 
 college if you put on airs, I can tell you that, my boy. Bet- 
 ter wear off a little of the rust, come now. I'm your friend. 
 Take a glass." 
 
 " No sir !" cried Steele momentarily rising out of his timi- 
 dity. " I told you I never tasted wine." 
 
 The tone and manner rather astonished Mr. Myers, who 
 thought it advisable to give up the point immediately. " Well 
 now," thought Edward, " here's this bashful fellow that one 
 would imagine afraid to speak to his own shadow, doing 
 what I haven't the courage for. I declare I feel a little 
 ashamed of myself. However, I don't believe in inevitable 
 ruin directly anybody touches wine. If a person gets tipsy, 
 it's his own fault." 
 
 The little cliques at each table were becoming livelier. 
 Voices were rising to a higher pitch, glasses rattling, corks 
 popping to various corners of the room, jokes cracking, 
 knuckles rapping, and poor Billy was dancing about the 
 room in a state of trembling eagerness, terribly afraid that he 
 might overlook some customer, and thereby draw down upon 
 himself the displeasure of one whose displeasure was to be 
 carefully avoided. Reid and Myers were each, as privileged 
 characters, sitting on one chair, propping their feet on the 
 back of another, with hats at the peculiar angle that you 
 never see attained till a man is " half seas over," and con- 
 versing in a strain that our readers would consider both 
 unprofitable and vulgar. The red-whiskered individual was 
 entertaining Thomas Brown with the history of a " rummy " 
 he had known, who wallowed about for a whole day and
 
 KATE WESTON. 119 
 
 eight in a swamp a dozen yards square, at which history 
 Thomas Brown was rolling his head and laughing immode- 
 rately. Poor Teddy was emptying his pockets for his own 
 and the public benefit. Mr. Flip, aftef giving the influence 
 of his countenance and example to the bringing affairs to 
 this crisis, was remarking to his highly respectable client that 
 this was no longer a place for them, and preparing consequently 
 to take his departure. Boys imbued with the spirit of young 
 America, and considerably enlivened with wine, were walking 
 straight over Mexico, annexing Texas, the Sandwich Islands, 
 Cuba, California, and promising annexation in the course of 
 " manifest destiny " to the rest of the peopled world. Com- 
 mon-looking men in fustian jackets were beginning to look 
 decidedly fuddled, and two or three had arrived at a point 
 Avhere Mr. Gamp was compelled to exert his talents to the 
 utmost, in order to keep them from driving into one another 
 after the approved method of the most celebrated pugilists. 
 
 Mr. Wilks had " treated " Joe until he was certainly tipsy, 
 whatever Rosy might say, and was now pressing him for a 
 song in a manner that was not to be denied. The would-be 
 pugilists becoming quite obstreperous, Mr. Gamp announced 
 to the company in general, and those individuals in particular, 
 that Joe would favor them with " Dearest Mae," at the same 
 time politely giving the quarrelsome gentlemen to understand, 
 that if they chose to continue their appearance of animosity, 
 their room would be preferable to their company. 
 
 Joe accordingly, in a voice that might have been mistaken 
 for a very musical bass-organ, " favored " the company to 
 their no small edification and amusement. He swung his 
 great body backwards and forwards, opening his mouth wide 
 enough to have elicited the admiration of the first opera 
 critic of the day, keeping time with both head and heels, and 
 rolling his eyes from side to side in the ecstasy of his theme, 
 until the tears fairly rolled over his face. At every repetition 
 of the chorus, the " Dearest Ma a ae " was hailed by the
 
 120 KATE WESTON. 
 
 delighted listeners with a burst of applause, and Joe con- 
 cluded the piece amid a chorus of shouts and laughter that 
 was truly terrific. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the company dispersed with drunken 
 cries and unseemly vmirth, staggering to their different homes 
 with brains on fire, singing low songs, and passing ribald jests 
 to the discomfort of the sleeping villagers, and the unmiti- 
 gated delight of the rumseller, who had taken in five Collars 
 more than on the previous day. 
 
 As they went, one by one, to their respective homes, down 
 lanes fringed with rustling trees, through fields still and pale 
 in the starlight, up between the mansions lining the great 
 road of the village, a shadow followed them, invisible to mor- 
 tal eye, but seen and wept by angels. Like a black cloud 
 fraught with ruin, that thing, of evil crept along, floating 
 around them in the darkness, on on till it settled on the 
 broken homes they entered, to go no more out for ever. 
 
 Broken homes ! for home is where the gentle word is 
 spoken ; where the loving smile lights all things with its glow ; 
 where peaceful hearts sink down to sleep at night ; where 
 ready hands and cheering tones uplift the sorrowing spirit ; 
 where fathers and husbands stand boldly forth protecting gentle 
 ones that look to them for help. And which amid all these, is 
 found within the drunkard's dwelling ? Who but the drunk- 
 ard's anguished wife and weeping children stand pointing ever 
 to a broken home ? 
 
 That night a widowed mother wept, and prayed, and 
 groaned aloud. All through the dark hours, Avhile her son 
 lay heedless of her prayers, she knelt beside his bed. Memo- 
 ries of sleepless nights, and darkened days came crowding 
 thick upon her. When the boyish foot was tangled in .the 
 mire of Intemperance, when the smooth face was bloated, the 
 lithe form all unhinged, the open blue eye grown red and 
 blear, her heart had died within her. But that was not like 
 this. Manhood, proud and glorious, had dawned upon him
 
 KATE WESTON. 121 
 
 now. He was no longer the tender sapling her hand must 
 bend and bind, but the stalwart tree to which she clung. And 
 the tree was breaking. The consciousness of that struck home 
 to her heart like a living agony. 
 
 One other weeping woman stood beside her children, look- 
 ing bitterly upon their innocent slumbers, while her husband 
 snored away the night, unconscious of her tears. Her heart 
 traveled back to a desolate garret, cold and dark, where her 
 children lay sleeping in their hunger, with no covering to 
 shield them from the blast that swept between the gaping 
 boards, where she sat waiting, waiting for her husband's com- 
 ing. She looked about her at the happy home that time and 
 drunkenness must wrest inevitably away, and the protector 
 whom she could trust no more, as wringing her hands, and 
 crying aloud, she paced the floor hurriedly till morning smiled 
 in upon her wo. 
 
 Other mothers and other wives wept and prayed that night 
 over the first downward step of husbands or sons. But none 
 like them had seen the beginning and the end. None like 
 them could look with prophetic eye through the long night 
 of darkness that lay teeming with sin and wretchedness before 
 them.
 
 122 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN old-fashioned wagon stood before friend Weston's door. 
 The fat, comfortable-looking horses were whiling away the 
 time with a little friendly intercourse, judging from the sym- 
 pathetic manner in which they neighed and rubbed each other's 
 heads. The only seat at present in the vehicle was placed 
 about half-way back, flanked by a great black trunk, a little 
 white one, a carpetrbag, a basket, a bandbox, and a cage con- 
 taining two exquisite canaries, who hopped about, and sang, 
 and seemingly enjoyed to the utmost the present peculiar 
 state of affairs. Immediately in front of the seat stood a low 
 chair intended for the driver, who forthwith made his appear- 
 ance in the person of lame Joe, followed by his wife, a pomp- 
 ous looking ebony lady, with a yellow handkerchief tied turban- 
 fashion about her head, and a small red shawl crossed over 
 her broad bosom. 
 
 " Joe," said Rosy, following him to the gate, " yer an't a 
 gwine to get nuffin in der way of sperrits now. Ef yer gits 
 tipsy, yer needn't come back agin night. Tink of de way yer 
 was in afore. Law sakes it'll upset me, ef yer a gwine to cut 
 up in dat ere comboberlatin manner. Nebber seed nuffin 
 like it." 
 
 " Don't be 'feard now, Rosy," answered Joe, rolling his eyes 
 up as a confirmation of his words, "jest 'form me if yer ever 
 know'd me to git drunk afore ? I'se one o' yer stiddy nig- 
 gers, I is ; donno how 'tis em all goes a tetejin' off the first 
 chance they gits. Now yer knows I'se a stiddy nigger, don't 
 yer, Rosy ?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 123 
 
 " But yer corned hum tipsey toder night," answered his 
 wife ; " dar an't no knowin' what dem regimentals '11 be up 
 to. Dey's arter yer money, dey is. 'Pears as how dey'd 
 git hold ob yer, if yer don't look out for dar atteinptible 
 tricks." 
 
 "Don't yoxi be afeard ob dis nigger," remarked Joe deci- 
 sively, flourishing his long whip. " Rayder guess as how dis 
 nigger is cap'l of takin' care his sef; yer's oilers so feared, 
 Rosy ; nebber seed nuffin like yer." 
 
 " Massy-lausy," cried Rosy, suddenly recollecting herself, 
 " young Missus hab bin a forgittin' ob her unberil, an' like 
 enuff its gwine to rain. I'll reposit dat article in dis wagon 
 remediately." 
 
 Having thus expressed herself, the yellow handkerchief and 
 red shawl vanished in at the front door, leaving Joe standing 
 in an intense admiration of the wearer of those articles, and 
 whistling to himself fragments of Lucy Long, Dandy Jim, 
 Oh ! Susanna, and various other melodies of the same char- 
 acter. 
 
 While Joe and Rosy were holding the above conversation, 
 another couple were engaged in as interesting a consultation 
 in the shady parlor. 
 
 " Now Kate, my sweet Kate," said Edward Clarence, " I 
 shall miss you sadly this winter ; it's the first time we were 
 ever apart so long. I'm afraid," he paused and sighed. 
 
 " Afraid of what ?" said Kate, lifting her gentle eyes to his 
 face. 
 
 " I was thinking," said Edward, " that perhaps you would 
 think less of me when you were amid the gaieties of the city. 
 You are very young, Kate, we are both young, you don't 
 know yet whether you love me or not. You'll see a great 
 many gayer and wittier young men than I, and perhaps 
 you'll forget me." 
 
 He spoke thoughtfully, and looked at the young girl as 
 though never doubting that a dozen hands and fortunes would
 
 124 KATE WESTON. 
 
 be humbly waiting her acceptance the moment she made her 
 appearance on the boards of city life. 
 
 " Edward," said she, with the very light of her mother's 
 loving face playing over every feature. 
 
 "Well, Kate." 
 
 " Suppose you were leaving me and going to spend the 
 winter in New York ; no matter how many lovely girls you 
 might meet, or how many sweet voices you might hear, would 
 your heart go away from me? Would you love them 
 better ?" 
 
 Edward decided that " He might go all over the world, and 
 he'd never find another he thought half so beautiful or half 
 so good." 
 
 "Well, then," said Kate, coloring a little, a very little, 
 "judge me by yourself then. I know what city gentlemen 
 are. Elegantly dressed, fastidiously polite ; but bubbles, 
 Edward, by the side of you. Not all I don't mean all but 
 none like you. Now, you see, I'm not such a little fool as 
 you take me for ! Am I, Ed ?" 
 
 " But you are so young," said Edward, meditatively, " you 
 can hardly tell. They say, you know, first love is all a 
 fancy." 
 
 " Yes," she answered smilingly, " I know it. Then you 
 think yours is all a fancy, eh ? I see now I shall have " 
 
 "Oh! Kate." 
 
 "Oh! Edward." 
 
 " Now I know my own mind, Katie, better." 
 
 " Better than I do. There's a compliment. There now, 
 Ed, I think you've said enough." 
 
 Here she laid her hand on his arm, and looked with that 
 quiet smile into his face. 
 
 " No, believe me, Edward, I know more about the matter 
 than you. First love, as people call it, is all a fancy. A boy 
 sees a pretty face and says to himself, ' Now, I'm almost a 
 man, and people will think me quite one if I wait upon a
 
 KATE WESTON. 125 
 
 young lady. What a pretty girl that is? How proud I 
 should be for George or Frank to joke me about her. And 
 she is such a divine creature.' The girl is as silly as he is, so 
 they fall in love directly, talk about undying affection, lovo 
 in a cottage, and all that, and in six months go away and for- 
 get one another. Did we do so ? Isn't it a full dozen years 
 already since we fell in love. When I tumbled into the mud 
 over the barn-yard fence, and you, in the true spirit of chi- 
 valry, tumbled over after me ! No, Edward, our love is a sober, 
 earnest kind of love that isn't born of fancy ; and I, for one, 
 am not afraid of its being killed by time, or absence, or any- 
 thing else." 
 
 These sentiments accorded so exactly with his own, that 
 Edward was thoroughly convinced, and looked into the calm 
 eyes and blushing face turned so- trustingly upon him, with- 
 out a doubt of her constancy, though not without a pang at 
 parting. 
 
 "Kate, see what I have brought you," he answered, pro- 
 ducing a locket containing his daguerreotype ; " not to remem- 
 ber me by. for I don't believe you'll forget me, but because I 
 thought you'd like to have it to look at, now and then, when 
 you have a few minutes to spare from the round of gaiety 
 that you'll be running through in New York." 
 
 There was a curious look on Kate's face as she gazed 
 admiringly at the keepsake, answering, " Edward, you have a 
 strange idea of my character. Very different, I can assure 
 you, from the true one. Do you really suppose now, that 
 I shall take such an interest in those frivolous amusements. 
 You forget that I am half Quakeress." 
 
 " Nonsense !" cried Edward, " do you imagine that I think 
 a pretty young girl like you, just stepping upon the thresh 
 old of the fashionable world, with every prospect of admi- 
 ration and homage being paid her, is going to mew herself 
 up in the chimney-corner, darning stockings or paring apples, 
 while everything is life and spirit around her ?"
 
 126 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 " I didn't say," answered she, half laughing, " that I was 
 intending to mew myself up darning stockings &c., did I ? I 
 mean to.be very lively, indeed, all winter, and to go to every 
 place that is worth visiting (unless I think it an improper 
 place), and that will make me all the more delighted with 
 ' sweet home ' when I return. But," she continued, in a more 
 serious tone, " Edward, it is not to them that I shall look for 
 happiness. That can only be attained through the medium 
 of a meek and quiet spirit ! Do you suppose my mother 
 isn't a happier woman than the most fashionable lady in New 
 York ?" 
 
 Mrs. Weston being one of those fortunate people who are 
 always happy, Edward could but answer in the affirmative, 
 at the same time reminding her that that lady was consider- 
 ably older than herself, and consequently would be less apt 
 to enjoy the more spirited amusements of young people. 
 
 " Yes," said Kate, " I know that, but I know, too, that if 
 I were patient and gentle as she is, 1 should be happier than 
 any wealth, or attention, or amusement could render me. 
 She has taught me ever since I could understand anything to 
 believe that promise of One who has all hearts in His hand, 
 ' I will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on 
 me !' That is the secret of happiness, I have been trying to 
 learn it for fifteen years, and I don't think I shall leave off 
 now." 
 
 "But, Katie, dear," said Edward, "how many learn, and 
 learn, and as soon as they get into the whirlpool of fashion 
 go along with the current." 
 
 " You forget who I had for a teacher," said Kate, earnestly, 
 " very few have a teacher like my mother. She lives up to 
 her teachings, and little as I know of the world, I know very 
 few, if any, do that. When I have her always on my heart, 
 do you think I shall forget her chief desire, the object for 
 which she has labored during the whole of my lifetime, in 
 one winter of city life ?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 12*1 
 
 " No, I do not, Kate," he answered in a burst of admira- 
 tion, " I don't believe you are capable of anything that would 
 give your dearest friend a moment's uneasiness. I don't 
 understand your feelings exactly, but I know you do your- 
 self, and that's enough for me." 
 
 Kate's eyes filled with tears. "But Edward, it isn't 
 enough for me. That is my greatest trouble, that you are 
 not a Christian. I don't mean a Quaker, but a Christian. 
 You might be a Presbyterian, or a Baptist, or a Episcopa- 
 lian, or anything you chose, so long as I knew you were 
 looking to the same goal I have in view, and hoping for sal- 
 vation through the same medium." 
 
 This part of the conversation made Edward feel very 
 awkward, as he could not think of anything in the world to 
 answer, so he felt greatly relieved at the appearance of Rosy's 
 black face and yellow handkerchief popping in at the door. 
 
 " Goody gracious, Missy Katie, its curi's now, dat dat ere 
 fader ob yourn hain't done a writin ob his letter yet. It 
 would be berry disagreeable fur you to go a 'permeatin down 
 to dat ere wharf in Newburgh when de boat was makin away 
 with herself." Having thus delivered her opinion, she pulled 
 out her head again, and shut to the door. 
 
 Kate lifted her pocket-handkerchief from the table, and 
 displayed a small book. 
 
 " Here Edward, is my parting gift, I embroidered the cover 
 myself." 
 
 Edward took it up, it was beautifully bound in dark blue 
 velvet, and upon its cover his name was embroidered in Kate's 
 golden hair. He opened the book. It was a New Testa- 
 ment. There were tears yet standing on the pale cheek, and 
 there was a slight tremor in the voice, as she whispered, "I 
 ask nothing more of you, Edward, than to study that daily, 
 for my sake, if you please, and I will live, and love, and 
 pray for yours. As for this," she added, holding up the 
 locket, and smiling through her tears, " I shall look at it a
 
 128 KATE WESTON. 
 
 dozen times a day, and think every time I see it, ' bow much 
 handsomer he is than any body I see here. How I should 
 like to see him.' " 
 
 She held up her blushing face to his for a good-bye kiss, 
 while he put his arm about her for one little minute, at the 
 same time gulping down a very unmanly sob that was rising 
 in his throat, and ran out of the room without giving him 
 time to recover himself. 
 
 Mr. Weston had been writing a letter to the gentleman 
 whose guest Kate was to be for the ensuing winter, while Mrs. 
 Weston, who had remarked to him a full half hour before 
 that the children would like to say good-bye alone, was busy- 
 ing herself with a huge bouquet of dahlias that Kate was to 
 carry from her to Mrs. Ainslie, the sworn friend of her school- 
 girl years, and dropping a tear now and then at the thoughts 
 of her own loneliness for three long months of her darling's 
 absence. When she had arranged and re-arranged, and begun 
 to wonder why they didn't come out, she heard Kate's voice 
 in the hall, and this being the signal for her appearance, she 
 stepped out just as the white handkerchief was brushing a 
 little tell-tale straggler from her eye. 
 
 " Father," cried she, stepping to the foot of the stairs, " isn't 
 the letter done ? Joe's afraid of being late." 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said Mr. Weston, coming deliberately down 
 the stairs, " it's ready now, I'll put it here just under the cover 
 of the basket ; there, thee needn't be afraid of losing it now." 
 He adjusted it carefully, tying down the basket covers with 
 as much precaution as though he had been concealing under 
 them a treasure of immeasurable value ; then taking both his 
 daughter's hands in his own, he said in a low tone, and with 
 some difficulty, " Kate, my child, thou art going away from thy 
 father and mother for the first time. I'm not afraid of thee, 
 dear, not at all. But we shall miss thee very much, very much. 
 Thou'rt quite a young lady now, and they will draw thee into 
 ungodly company, and flatter thee. But I know very well
 
 KATE WESTON. 129 
 
 thou hast a heart above such things, and thy home \vill look 
 pleasanter when it is time to return. Thou art so like thy 
 mother when she was young as thou, looks, disposition and 
 all so like thy mother." 
 
 He needn't have said that. She was her counterpart now, 
 younger, rosier, but still the same. The same placid brow, the 
 same clear blue eye, the same delicate profile, the same pleas- 
 ant mouth, and just now, the same tears coursing over the 
 cheek. 
 
 This speech over, there was such a deal of love to be given 
 to the Ainslies, besides the canaries and the dahlias, all of 
 their own raising; such a number of charges about such a 
 number of things ; such a quantity of tears, and smiles, and 
 parting words ; such an adjusting and re-adjusting of the big 
 black trunk, the little white one, the bandbox, and the basket ; 
 such a quiet sadness on the part of Edward and Kate ; such 
 a fear on the part of Mr. Weston that Joe would not drive to 
 the right wharf, and on the part of Mrs. Weston that Kate 
 might take cold, or be blown up by the bursting of the boiler ; 
 such a great burst of tears on the part of Rosy as she warned 
 her young Missis not to " cut up in any kin'o highfalutin manner 
 like dem curis city folks, but to be a good girl and say her 
 prayers ;" such an important flourish of whip and reins on the 
 part of lame Joe, as he dashed off with his precious charge ; 
 such a shower of kisses, and such a waving of pocket-hand- 
 kerchiefs on the part of the whole party, as would have cheated 
 an uninitiated observer into the belief that the parting was 
 for life. 
 
 Notwithstanding her father's fears, Joe drove straight to the 
 right wharf, as careful and a great deal more proud of his 
 charge than any fairer gallant could possibly have been, 
 depositing Kate in the ladies' cabin, placing her baggage in a 
 " satisfactory perdition," and marching away, feeling a little 
 sorrowful, but almost overwhelmed with a sense of the trium- 
 phant termination of his undertaking. 
 6*
 
 130 KATE WESTON. 
 
 On reaching New York, she was met by a young gentleman 
 dispatched by her friends, who was waiting at the wharf in 
 expectation of her arrival. 
 
 When Kate entered the door, she was caught in the arms 
 of a cordial, loving-looking lady, and after being half smoth- 
 ered with kisses, was passed over successively to a tall, precise 
 young lady in an astonishing head-dress, a short one with a 
 face all a-glow with pleasure, a couple of boys, both very bash- 
 ful and very much delighted, and a lively, mischievous little 
 puss with black eyes, who hid behind her mother's skirts, pre- 
 tending to be very diffident, and actually standing in fear of 
 no mortal alive. 
 
 When the happy party had succeeded in knocking her hat 
 all out of shape, and satisfactorily tumbling her up in a gen- 
 eral manner, she was conducted to a pleasant room up stairs 
 by the short young lady, who chatted away as though she had 
 a world of news to tell, and only five minutes to tell it in. 
 
 Was Kate really going to stay all winter ? Did her father 
 say she mustn't go once to the opera ? She had so much to 
 tell her about Clarence, and Carlisle, and Sophronia, and 
 every body else. Sophronia had three beaus, " one of whom 
 had fallen in love with her for writing such splendid poetry 
 for the Opal, and the other two for her handsome curls, and 
 fashionable head-dress," this last was accompanied by a mis- 
 chievous twist about the mouth. " She was really going to be 
 married right away ; she knew it, for she saw a pocket-hand- 
 kerchief she was hemming marked, S. M. Ellis. She had left 
 it loose on her dressing-room table. Mr. Pufton had been 
 there ever so much lately to see about Aunt Sophy. Wasn't he 
 a funny lover now ? She quite envied Aunty, that she did, he 
 was such a good-natured comical soul. If she were her, she 
 wouldn't act so, she knew. Why, she wouldn't need to read 
 another line of Punch in her life, if she had his little dumpy 
 figure to laugh at, parading about so queerly all day long." 
 Here the young lady burst into a clear ringing laugh that
 
 KATE WESTON. 131 
 
 brought her mother, who was passing through the'hall, in to 
 see what was the matter. " Why Kate," she exclaimed, 
 " have you been sitting there all this time, and Alice never 
 taken off your things. She is a thoughtless creature." 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Ainslie," said Kate, smiling, " it is my own 
 fault altogether. Alice has been telling me the news, and I 
 had forgotten all about my things." 
 
 "Yes, it is all her own fault, mother," said Alice, with 
 another musical laugh. " You see I was so hard at work all 
 the time, and she had nothing under the sun to do. Kate, 
 you are a decidedly lazy, thoughtless, incorrigible girl." After 
 giving her visitor this pleasant assurance, she commenced 
 pulling off her shawl, untying her bonnet-strings, twisting 
 off her scarf, &c., &c., with a rapidity that utterly baffled all 
 that young lady's attempts to help herself; and when she had 
 concluded that operation, she gave her some fifteen or twenty 
 kisses, to ascertain, she said, " whether she was sweeter with 
 her things off." 
 
 Her mother seated herself opposite to Kate, for the purpose 
 of asking her some thousand and one questions relative to 
 Mrs. Weston, and telling some thousand and one times over 
 how she had been so home-sick for her (Kate), and Alice had 
 been so home-sick for her, and all the children had been so 
 home-sick for her ; and how they were so dreadfully afraid 
 she wouldn't come, and how they had waited patiently every 
 day for a letter, running every time they heard the bell ring 
 in hopes of seeing the postman at the door. 
 
 But, whatever bachelors may say about " no end to women's 
 tongues," they were finally through the news and the inqui- 
 ries, not because their topic was exhausted, but because the 
 dinner bell sounded imperatively over the lower railing, and 
 it was rather difficult to go without eating, even for the 
 sake of talking over such important matters as those under 
 discussion. 
 
 " Now we'll have some fun," cried Alice, catching hold of
 
 132 KATE WESTON. 
 
 her visitor's hand and hauling her along to the head of the 
 staircase. " Mr. Pufton's home to dinner with father, and it's 
 as good as a museum any time to see him making love to 
 Aunt Sophy. You mustn't be offended," she added, in a 
 laughing whisper, as they descended the stairs, " if he kisses 
 you. He's always up to some mischief or other." 
 
 " Oh," said her mother in the same tone, " I guess Kate 
 knows Mr. Pufton well enough. He's out at Laconia every 
 few months, and she's seen him here every time she's been 
 in. Now, Alice," she said, as they crossed the hall, "you 
 must behave yourself, and not set eveiybody laughing at the 
 table, as you usually do." 
 
 The gentlemen were standing around the table when they 
 entered. Alice led Kate softly up behind her father, before 
 any one had noticed their entrance. He turned suddenly 
 round, and cordially greeted his young visitor, declaring 
 that he was delighted, had been waiting so patiently, &c., 
 &c." 
 
 Mr. Pufton uttered a characteristic exclamation of surprise 
 the moment he saw her, and waited with evident impatience 
 for his turn to welcome her. 
 
 " Bless my soul !" he cried, waddling up and kissing her, 
 ""prettier than ever. Never saw you so charming, my dear. 
 Grown quite a woman, too. Come to turn all the beaux' 
 heads this winter, child? How's father and mother? and 
 Rosy and Joe ? and Edward Clarence ? He's a great friend 
 of yours, too, I believe, my dear ? Fine boy, Ed, fine boy, my 
 dear. Capital fellow, eh ?" 
 
 He turned his twinkling gray eyes full upon her face in 
 perfect innocence of thought ; but a little blush that was just 
 then coming, was helped along considerably by an invisible 
 nudge of the elbow from Alice, who went off in internal 
 ecstasies when she saw the peculiar effect produced thereby^ 
 although she stood looking as grave as a judge. 
 
 " They are all very well, sir," said Kate, trying hard to
 
 KATE WESTON. 133 
 
 recover herself, and avoiding an answer to his last question. 
 " Father has been troubled a little with rheumatism, but he's 
 over it now entirely." 
 
 " Bad climate that for rheumatism," answered the gentle- 
 men, as they seated themselves at the table. "Ought to 
 spend the winter in the city, my dear. No use this trying to 
 rough it out. Too cold altogether." 
 
 At the conclusion of this speech, he suddenly clasped his 
 hands upon his plate, and bobbed his chubby face upon them 
 a ceremony which he always observed when grace was 
 said, to* the never-failing delight of Alice, who trod on Kate's 
 toe. in a very irreverent manner, considering all the circum- 
 stances of the case. 
 
 Through the whole dinner, poor Kate was kept on the 
 verge of an explosion of laughter by means of sundry winks, 
 nudges, and pinches from the mischievous young lady at her 
 elbow, who lost no opportunity of showing off the ludicrous 
 to the best advantage, on the part of everything and every- 
 body. Mr. Pufton fidgeted very perceptibly for some five 
 minutes after they were seated, glancing nervously at the 
 door, giving a number of. affected little .coughs, and very fre- 
 quently taking up his pocket-handkerchief, and rubbing it 
 across his mouth. At last the door opened, and a digni- 
 fied lady entered, followed by the young lady with the head- 
 dress. 
 
 Mrs. Maylie stepped gracefully up to Kate* Weston, expres- 
 sing her gratification in an agreeable manner, and seating her- 
 self at the other side of the table beside her daughter. 
 
 " Unexpected pleasure, Ma'am," remarked Mr. Pufton, look- 
 ing so relieved at her appearance, that anybody would have 
 thought the word applied to her entrance, had he not added 
 " A pleasure I didn't expect Ma'am, Miss Weston's dropping 
 as it were out of the clouds. All her friends well, Ma'am, 
 quite well, needn't trouble yourself to ask." 
 
 Here Alice lifted the saltcellar, and suddenly handed it to
 
 134 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Kate, at the same time looking into her eye, with so deter- 
 mined a gravity, that she could not keep her countenance. 
 No one, however, noticing her, she soon came to, but kept 
 her eyes fixed upon her plate until she was quite sober 
 again. 
 
 Judge Ainslie was a gentleman of dignified bearing, tall, 
 well proportioned, and decidedly handsome. There was a 
 cordial affability in his manner, heightened by a very plea- 
 sant smile about his mouth, and a benevolent glance of his 
 dark eyes, that made him a favorite in every circle. The 
 highest in the land could but have felt, in conversing with 
 him, that he was equal to the highest, and the lowest would 
 have seen nothing in word or manner to indicate that he con- 
 sidered himself above the lowest. 
 
 It wasn't strange that such a man should be a kind of 
 idol, not only to his own family, but also to a large circle 
 of friends, who esteemed him no less for his~lofty talents and 
 unerring judgment, thfen they loved him for his benevolence 
 and intrinsic worth. 
 
 His wife was one of those few people in the world, who 
 take everything that befalls them from the hand of a merci- 
 ful Father, and see in the merest trifle, either for good or ill, 
 the finger of an overruling Providence. But she was not 
 one of your moping Christians, to go mourning all the day 
 long for the sins and follies of herself or others. Her faith 
 was too strong for that. Not that she trusted to faith with- 
 out works, but that she always used the two together. When 
 anything was to be done for the sake of benevolence or reli- 
 gion, she walked heart and hand into the work, fully believ- 
 ing that He who had given her that work to do, would crown 
 her efforts with success. Such is the labor, blessed of God, 
 that, like the seed sown in good ground, springeth up and 
 beareth fruit, thirty, sixty and an hundred fold. 
 
 " Are you going to the fair to night, Mr. Pufton ?" asked 
 Alice ; " you were talking about it yesterday."
 
 KATE WESTON. . 135 
 
 The gentleman cast an anxious glance towards Mrs. Maylie, 
 answering, " So I proposed, my dear, so I proposed. Your 
 aunt was to accompany us, I think. Shall you favor us, Mrs. 
 Maylie ?" 
 
 He leaned, over, looking with such eager interest for an 
 answer, that Alice improved the opportunity afforded her of 
 giving a very serious wink sidewise at Kate, and exclaiming, 
 " Oh, Aunt Sophy promised me a week ago that she would go 
 with me to night. Now don't take any praise to yourself, 
 Mr. Pufton, you see it was all decided upon long before yoi 
 knew anything about it ?" 
 
 " Come Alice," interposed her father in an under tone. 
 
 " You see, Kate, how I am persecuted," said she, trying to 
 pout. " If I venture to open my lips, Papa says, ' Come 
 Alice,' and Mamma looks daggers at me. When I am such 
 a model of gravity, too." 
 
 Here she put on so demure an air, that Kate could not for 
 the life of her help laughing. The two boys giggled to each 
 other, little Ellie's eyes sparkled, and her mother remarked, 
 " Alice, we know so well that some mischief is brewing, when- 
 ever we hear you speak ; you can't wonder at it." 
 
 " Indeed !" cried Mr. Pufton, " Miss Alice's humor is the life 
 of the company. Unless it happens to fall upon one's-self. 
 I suppose I must take a pretty good share of it." 
 
 " That's right, you dear old gentleman," cried Alice, " stand 
 my friend, you do not know how many times I have stood 
 yours. I'm a powerful ally of yours, sir; just ask Aunt 
 Sophy." 
 
 Mr. Pufton did not seem at all disposed to follow her 
 direction, for he was suddenly taken with a violent . fit of 
 hunger, and seemed intent upon demolishing the contents 
 of his plate in the shortest time possible. 
 
 " Well now, Judge," said he, cocking his head very much 
 on one side, in order to obtain a view of that gentleman's face, 
 "what are you going to do with Kate here, this winter ?''
 
 136 KATE WESTON. 
 
 "Make her enjoy herself as much as possible, I hope," 
 answered Judge Ainslie. 
 
 "A matter very easy of accomplishment, I can assure 
 you," cried Alice. " If I were to perch her in the middle of 
 my toilet-stand with a work-box at her side, or. a book, or a 
 couple of knitting-needles and a ball of yarn, I believe she'd 
 be perfectly happy to stay there the whole winter, now I 
 really do. The principal trouble will be to get her anywhere 
 without an amount of coaxing and persuading, the thoughts 
 of which actually make me feel faint with fatigue." 
 
 "Have to call Mr. Byng to your assistance, my dear," 
 remarked Mr. Pufton. " Capital hand at an argument, Mr. 
 Byng. You know that, my dear. Pretty successful, eh, my 
 dear?" 
 
 It was now Alice's turn to blush, and be very much occu- 
 pied with her dinner, and as she neither winked at Kate, nor 
 pinched her, nor nipp^l her toes, that young lady had a 
 pretty fair inkling of the disposition of affairs in that quarter. 
 She, however, like a prudent girl, resolved to take no notice 
 of the conversation, but to wait, and catch a glimpse of the 
 gentleman referred to, before asking any questions. 
 
 " I don't know why-y," drawled Miss Sophronia Maylie, 
 ''but re-al-ly, Mr. By-yng reminds me of the elegant 
 Lord Bra-al-ley, and he always reminds me of Hercules, 
 don't you remember, Mamma-a so comma-anding and lofty. 
 He" used to step into his ca-rriage with the a-air of a 
 king." 
 
 "There now," cried Alice, suddenly reviving again, "how 
 very ridiculous it was in you, Sophronia, to cast an English 
 nobleman and a German baron from your feet, not to speak 
 of the cruelty of such a proceeding. There cannot be the 
 slightest doubt that both those gentlemen have either com- 
 mitted suicide, or returned in despair to their respective coun- 
 tries, for you have never heard of them since." 
 
 " I ne-ever told you anything to tha-at effect," answered
 
 KATE WESTON. 137 
 
 Miss Sophronia, at the same time lifting an infinitesimally 
 small portion of meat upon her fork. 
 
 "But you see, I am gifted witk> second sight, coz," 
 answered Alice. " So there was no need to tell me." 
 
 Miss Sophronia agitated her head-dress a little, simpered a 
 little, tried to blush, and seemed altogether overwhelmed at 
 thought of the honors heaped upon her. 
 
 " You must excuse me, I believe," said the Judge, bowing 
 to Kate, "I have a little business with Mr. Pufton, that 
 takes me away earlier than usual." 
 
 . " Don't speak of it, sir," cried Mr. Pufton, " private business 
 of my own, my dear," nodding at Kate ; " enjoy the present 
 company, sir," bobbing round again towards the Judge. 
 " This evening will do quite as well, sir. Don't trouble 
 yourself, sir." 
 
 " You forget that you are engaged this evening," remarked 
 Alice, with a roll of the eyes towards Mrs. Maylie. " We'll 
 excuse you both, perfectly excusable, gentlemen. Indeed, 
 I've no doubt we'll be rather glad than otherwise at your 
 departure, I'm dying to have a good chat among ourselves 
 upon matters that you gentlemen can neither tolerate nor 
 appreciate, and Kate, I am convinced, is full as bad as I am, 
 only she's cunning enough to conceal it. Good bye, gentlemen." 
 
 Such a hint was not to be neglected, so the two gentlemen 
 left the table without further ado. As they were drawing on 
 their overcoats in the entry, Clarence stole after them, and 
 looking doubtfully up at his father, asked him if he might 
 not go to the fair. 
 
 " Nonsense, child," said his father, " you are too young to 
 be out nights." 
 
 " I should like so much to see Castle Garden lit up at night, 
 and filled with all those pretty things." 
 
 Clarence didn't speak as another boy would have spoken. 
 There was a gentleness in his manner that would have 
 accorded better with the temper of a girl. He was a favo-
 
 138 KATE WESTON. 
 
 rite with his father, who seldom denied hjm anything. 
 He hesitated, now, however, as to the propriety of his 
 request. 
 
 Mr. Pufton, who did not possess the old bachelor trait of 
 disliking children, but on the contrary, never seemed to see 
 enough of them, put in his plea. x 
 
 " Let us have Clary along by all means, sir ; some fine 
 specimens of the arts to show you, my boy. Positively you 
 must, sir. I shall invite him myself; poor boy, shut up in 
 the school all day, not the best teacher in the world, either." 
 
 The boy's eyes filled with tears. It was only that morning 
 his teacher had called him an obstinate little blockhead, 
 because he had refused to tell of a boy who, out of pure fun, 
 had pinned up a paper man on the wall, just before the 
 school opened. He thought it very hard. His old teacher 
 never called him such names, and he felt very sorry that he 
 had gone away. 
 
 His father didn't see the tears, but he told him to be ready 
 at seven o'clock, and he should go if he liked, then went out 
 at the hall-door, followed by Mr. Pufton, who turned round 
 several times to bob his little round head, and blink his little 
 round eyes at Clarence, pantomimes expressive of his unbounded 
 sympathy with him, in the peculiarly afflicting state of school 
 affairs. 
 
 Clarence wiped his eyes when he was left alone, and began 
 caressing his beautiful little Newfoundland dog, who sprang 
 to his arms in a perfect frenzy of delight. 
 
 He was a strange boy. That is strange for a boy. He 
 seemed to possess all the affection and gentleness of a girl, 
 and at the same time the firmness and energy of the boy. 
 Not boisterous, but decided, not talented, but persevering, he 
 went quietly about his duties and his pastimes, while his par- 
 ents never felt any uneasiness on his account. 
 
 The arrival of a new teacher to fill the place of one who 
 had instructed him during the whole term of his school life, a
 
 KATE WESTON. 139 
 
 period of some six years, caused the affectionate little fellow 
 no small vexation of spirit. The sorrow of the boy was very 
 evident, and the teacher, a self-willed, passionate man, had 
 already contracted a prejudice against the thoughtful little 
 fellow who seemed to mourn so silently over the loss of a kind 
 and efficient instructor.
 
 140 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 JUDGE AINSLIE being quite primitive in his habits, the dinner 
 was over by three o'clock. The .boys having no lessons to 
 recite before that time, were allowed to remain, entering school 
 again at the afternoon recess. " Good-bye mother," said Clar- 
 ence, turning^, back as he reached the door, with a wistful 
 glance. 
 
 " Good-bye, my son." 
 
 " Please mother, won't you give me sixpence to buy one of 
 those handsome new balls. I've wanted one ever so long." 
 
 " Oh, Clary, you better run along to school, you are going 
 to the fair to-night, you know." 
 
 "Poor fellow," cried Alice, "he's got a headache to-day. 
 Here's a sixpence Clary ; you know I promised you one for 
 threading my needle yesterday when I was in such a hurry." 
 
 " Thank you, Alice," answered the boy, smiling. "I thought 
 you were only joking." 
 
 " You will certainly spoil that boy, Alice," said her mother. 
 " Really," she added, turning to Kate, " she never refused him 
 anything. I believe she thinks more of him than all the rest 
 put together. And they are not a bit alike either." 
 
 " That's the very reason," laughed Alice. " You see, Kate, I 
 being a girl, should have been the Quaker (no offence, I hope), 
 and Clary, being the boy, should have been the romp. Now 
 a great mistake must have been made somewhere, inasmuch 
 as things have turned out vice-versa. I'm so dreadfully perse- 
 cuted in consequence, that I pity myself most heartily, and
 
 KATE WESTON. 141 
 
 considering Clary as badly off as' myself, try to alleviate his 
 condition by every means in my power." 
 
 " A laudable thoughtfulness certainly," said her Aunt Sophy, 
 learting her elbow on the table. 
 
 "Miss Weston," remarked Sophronia, with a would-be- 
 graceful droop of the head, " Alice is such a hair-bra-ined 
 crea-ture. I'm re-al-ly afraid she-'ll drive you to de-spair 
 before the end of winter." 
 
 " I hope to be able to tame her down a little," answered 
 Kate, jesting ; " as we share the same room and bed, I shall 
 have ample opportunity for ' curtain-lectures ' whenever she 
 misbehaves, so I give her fair warning to carry herself straight." 
 
 Alice raised her hands and eyes with a mute glance of 
 despair, so earnest that everybody except Miss Sophronia burst 
 into a laugh, and even she allowed the corners of her mouth 
 to relax a little. 
 
 " It's no use," cried the self-constituted martyr, " I shall be 
 dead before the winter is out ; upon the whole, I think it 
 advisable to commit suicide at once, and avoid the torture of 
 dying by inches. Every one in the house a spy upon my 
 actions. I feel like a stray soldier in the enemies' camp. Oh 
 dear oh dear !" 
 
 " If you liye through it," remarked Mrs. Maylie quietly, 
 " I've no doubt you'll avoid such another season by taking 
 flight into some other camp. Affairs seem to promise that, at 
 present." 
 
 " Now Aunty, look out, or I'll tell Mr. Pufton Avhat you said 
 about him the other day. I'd just as lief as not, if I hadn't 
 a vague kind of fear that he'd turn into a balloon, like the 
 little fat woman at the Museum, and sail away through the 
 air in the exuberance of his delight." 
 
 " Alice is a first-rate fencer, Mrs. Maylie," said Kate, " no 
 fear of her if she is in the enemies' camp. She can take good 
 care of herself. What's the matter, Ellie ?" 
 
 The little girl was laughing away and trying to hide herself
 
 142 KATE WESTON. 
 
 from view behind a large pitcher that stood just in front of her 
 plate. 
 
 " I was just thinking," she said, putting her finger to the 
 corner of her mouth, " how funny Mr. Pufton would look 
 turning into a balloon." 
 
 " I suppose you think he might do for one without much 
 altering," said Alice. " I'm sure now, if he were just puffed 
 full of hydrogen, he'd be equal to the best balloon agoing." 
 
 " That'll do now," said her mother, " you musn't gel per- 
 sonal, my dear." 
 
 " There, Kate, didn't I tell you so ?" asked the lively girl in 
 a whining tone. " Howsoever," she added, with a delighted 
 little laugh, " I do love the dear old gentleman ; and as I 
 have no doubt he'll sometime be a member of our family, I 
 suppose it's better to follow mama's advice." 
 
 "Mo-ther," remarked Sophronia languishingly, "I would 
 not allow such dis-res-pectful jesting." 
 
 " It does not trouble me^ answered Mrs. Maylie, good- 
 naturedly. " Indeed I am so accustomed to it, that it comes 
 quite as a matter of course. I think it has more effect upon 
 Mr. Pufton than myself." 
 
 " Well, upon my word," exclaimed Alice, as the two boys 
 appeared in the passage-way, capped and satcheled for school, 
 "you lazy fellows, not off yet. Mr. Kepples'll give it to 
 you." 
 
 " 'Tisn't half-past three yet," said Carlisle, putting his head 
 in at the door, " can't I have a sixpence 1" 
 
 " No, Carlisle, not to-day," said his mother, " I want you 
 to run to school now as fast as you can." 
 
 " Clary had a sixpence," said he, looking a little cloudy. 
 
 " Well, didn't you have one yesterday ?" asked Mrs. Ainslie. 
 
 " I want one to-day," pouted the boy. 
 
 "You can't have one to-day, my son," said his mother, 
 " you must remember Clary is older than you, a good many 
 years ; besides, Alice gave him the sixpence."
 
 KATE WESTON. 143 
 
 " Won't you give me one, too, Alice," said the little boy, 
 brightening up a little. 
 
 " No, Carley, mother says you can't have it," said his sister ; 
 Clary's going to buy a ball with his money ; and perhaps, if 
 you are a very good boy all day, I'll make you one. There, 
 run along, or Mr. Kepples will pull your ears for you." 
 
 " Oh, we've got plenty of time before recess is over, full 
 ten minutes," said Clarence. " Good-by, mother." 
 
 The younger brother dashed away down the front steps 
 without ever looking behind him. Clarence paused, with 
 his hand on the door knob, to take a final glimpse of his 
 mother. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear." 
 
 He passed down the steps, pausing again at the foot to call 
 out, " Good-bye, mother," a process generally repeated a full 
 half-dozen times at least, before he was satisfied to pass quietly 
 away. 
 
 " Halloa, Clarence !" cried one of his schoolmates, as the 
 two boys entered the yard, " Mr. Kepples is going to fight the 
 Mexicans. He's concluded teaching doesn't suit him, he has. 
 Father Martin is talking about coming back again, he's so 
 much better now." 
 
 " Hurrah, boys !" cried the usually quiet Clarence. " Three 
 cheers for Father Martin. Hurrah ! hurrah !" 
 
 Mr. Kepples was no favorite, and the cheer was echoed by 
 a dozen voices, to the no small contempt of that gentle- 
 man, who had seen the proceeding from a small uppper 
 window. 
 
 " See here, Clarence," called the first speaker, beckoning 
 him to a corner of the yard, and looking very confidential 
 indeed, "don't you think, I really believe Mr. Kepples has 
 been and got drunk. Sh don't say a word. His face is 
 just as red as fire. And he has been acting so funny. Just 
 a little drunk, I mean enough to make him cross."
 
 144 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " He's always cross," whispered Clarence, looking medita- 
 tively on the ground. " Just to think of it !" 
 
 " Charlie Waters asked him to change his steel pen," said 
 his companion, " and he tried to mend it with his penknife, 
 just as he would a quill pen ; and when we were reciting geo- 
 graphy, John Cooper said that London was the capital of 
 Australia, and he told him it was right." 
 
 " Does he act cross ?" asked Clarence " any crosser than 
 usual, I mean." 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; he doesn't say much, hut he looks 
 ugly in his eyes somehow. I'd be afraid to vex him." 
 
 " Dear me, I'm afraid to ask him what I was going to. 
 I've learned all my lessons perfect, and I wanted to ask him 
 to let me recite a little earlier, so that I could go out and play 
 a while with my new ball before dark. It gets dark so soon 
 now." 
 
 " I don't know," said the other, scratching his head thought- 
 fully, "he gave two of the boys a beating to-day. I'd be 
 most afraid." 
 
 " Shan't you be glad when Father Martin gets back ? I can't 
 bear Mr. Kepples. I don't believe there's a boy in the school 
 likes him." 
 
 " No, I know their a'n't," said the other, looking cautiously 
 around. Wouldn't I like to see him flogged, that's all. He 
 flogs the boys for nothing at all. I'd play him some trick 
 if I dared, but he is so ugly that I am really afraid of 
 him?" 
 
 "Oh! you mustn't speak so, Henry. My mother would 
 say that was very wicked." 
 
 " Well, isn't he wicked, I'd like to know ? He's no busi- 
 ness to act so ugly, that's all. There's the bell ; hurry up, 
 or we'll have to take it." 
 
 As the boy had said, Mr. Kepples certainly gave pretty good 
 evidence of having indulged a little too freely in wine. Ho
 
 KATE WESTON. 145 
 
 was accustomed to taking a couple of glasses every day after 
 dinner, and having to-day exceeded his quantum, felt more 
 savage than usual. The " cheers " he had overheard from the 
 window had not tended to sweeten his temper either ; although 
 from motives of prudence, he made extra exertions to appear 
 calm and self-possessed. 
 
 This forced composure quite deceived Clarence, so that he 
 commenced thinking over again the feasibility of request- 
 ing to recite his lesson before the usual hour. "There's 
 nobody to recite that but me," he thought to himself, "I don't see 
 what difference it can make." He thought it over all the 
 afternoon, but when five o'clock came he felt his courage give 
 way. It would be dark in half an hour. If he could recite 
 that little lesson, and try his new ball. He opened his desk, 
 and looked at it again. It was such a nice ball. How 
 high it would bound. He might just as well go as not. He'd 
 ask Mr. Kepples. He wouldn't kill him for it, at any rate. 
 He rose up suddenly, book in hand, and walked along by all 
 the boys till he came to the teacher's desk. 
 
 " Mr. Kepples," he said timidly. 
 
 Well !" 
 
 The tone did not serve to reassure him, and his face flushed 
 as he answered, " Please sir, Avould you as lief hear my Latin 
 now. It won't take you five minutes ?" 
 
 "What's that for?" demanded Kepples, abruptly. 
 
 " Why I should like to go if you please sir, when I had 
 recited it. Lbelieve I have been perfect in everything to-day." 
 
 The teacher looked from under his brows at the boy, think- 
 ing of the " three cheers for Father Martin," and deigned no 
 answer to the request. 
 
 Clarence waited two or three minutes, and ventured to lay 
 his book on Mr. Kepples's desk by way of a reminder, where- 
 upon the gentleman whirled suddenly round, leveled a blow 
 at Clarence's head that, taking him so entirely off his guard, 
 threw him at full length upon the floor, in such a manner that 
 
 V
 
 146 KATE WESTON. 
 
 his forehead came into sudden contact with the corner of a 
 wooden bench. 
 
 " You impudent young rascal," shouted the half intoxicated 
 teacher, " how dare you practice any of your tricks upon me ? 
 Get up, and go to your seat." 
 
 Clarence obeyed, looking quite pale, and scarcely paying 
 attention to what was said. As Kepples moved back to his 
 desk, a good many flushed boyish faces were turned angrily 
 upon him, and little Carlisle actually shook his miniature fist, 
 resolving inwardly that father should hear of that. He 
 wouldn't have his brother treated so, he knew. 
 
 " Mother, I don't think I can go to the fair to-night, my 
 head aches so," said Clarence, as the two boys entered her 
 sitting-room. " I do wish Mr. Martin would come back again. 
 Mr. Kepples " he stopped, burst into tears, and buried his 
 face in his mother's bosom. 
 
 " Why, my dear boy, what is the matter ?" asked his mother^ 
 stroking the short, bright curls back from his face. 
 
 " Just this is the matter," cried Carlisle, stamping his foot 
 impetuously upon the floor, " that Mr. Kepples ought to go to 
 State's Prison to-morrow, and I told him so after school. We 
 were coming along the street together, a whole lot of us, and 
 I called out to him, ' Mr. Kepples, my father's a Judge, and 
 he'll sentence you to State's Prison to-morrow, you see if he 
 don't.' Don't you believe he will mother ?" 
 
 Mrs. Ainslie could not help smiling. " Why dear, I don't 
 know what the trouble is yet. What has Mr. Kepples been 
 doing 2" 
 
 " Oh yes, I forgot. He just knocked Clary right down onto 
 the floor because he asked to recite his lesson, and every one 
 of the boys said it was real mean and hateful of him, and I 
 just wish he'd tumble down and break his neck, / do. He 
 never " 
 
 " Hush, Carley, hush, you mustn't speak so," said his mother 
 gently. " That is wrong, you know Clary wouldn't."
 
 KATE WESTON. 147 
 
 " That's just it. The boys all said so. Clary is always so 
 patient, and he hates Clary because he was Father Martin's 
 favorite. Henry Wood told me so to-night." 
 
 " How was it, Clary ?" said his mother to Clarence, who 
 was becoming a little more quiet under the soothing influence 
 of those gentle fingers. "Tell me all about it your- 
 self." 
 
 The boy wiped his eyes, and related as clearly as he could, 
 . the history of the whole affair. His mother was too judicious 
 a woman to pay attention to every trivial complaint that chil- 
 dren make of their teachers, but she had seen Mr. Kepples, 
 and formed a very unfavorable opinion of his character. 
 This, joined with the burning heat of Clarence's head, led her 
 to feel considerable anxiety on his account. 
 
 " Where did you hit your head, Clary ?" she asked. 
 
 " Here mother, just over my eye." 
 
 " I don't, see any swelling. Carlisle, hand me the camphor- 
 bottle out of my cupboard there. We'll see if bathing won't 
 relieve the pain." 
 
 The boy seated himself upon the floor before her, while she 
 bathed his forehead, speaking so softly, and touching so gently. 
 He wondered if any other mother was like her. He didn't 
 think so. 
 
 " Rover, Rover," he cried, as the dog bounded into the 
 room. 
 
 Rover's shiny black face and wagging tail as he stood 
 before his young master said as plainly as face and tail could 
 say, " What do you want of me Clarence 1 I'll do anything 
 you say." 
 
 " Rover," he said, taking hold of the dog's paw, " go down 
 and get my cap, and be careful careful now, you don't drop 
 anything out of it. Down in the hall." 
 
 The dog trotted proudly away, returning in one minute 
 with the cap, and laying it on his master's lap. 
 
 "Good boy, Rover," said Clarence, as he always desig-
 
 148 KATE WESTON. 
 
 nated the favorite, when pleased with his conduct, " Kiss me 
 Rover." 
 
 The black eyes sparkled like a human being's as he licked 
 the boy's forehead, rubbed his nose against his cheek, and 
 made various other demonstrations of his delighted affection. 
 
 " See mother, here is my ball. Isn't it a nice one ? and so 
 cheap too. Henry Wood's isn't a bit better, and he paid a 
 shilling for it. I couldn't try it though to-day." 
 
 " That's the ball, is it ?" cried Alice, skipping into the room, 
 and letting herself down on the floor by her brother. 
 
 " Camphor eh why, what's the matter ?" 
 
 The story had to be told all over again, aided by a few 
 spirited touches from Carlisle, who had left the room, at his 
 mother's instigation, to have his hands washed. 
 
 " Well, of all the stories I ever heard !" cried Alice, when it 
 was done, " I'd like to see something done to that man that 
 he'd remember." 
 
 " Father's going to sentence him to State's Prison to-mor- 
 row," cried Carlisle triumphantly, " mother said so !" 
 
 " Oh Carley, you are mistaken," said his mother, " I didn't 
 say so. You asked me if he wouldn't, but I didn't say yes." 
 
 " Well, you didn't say no, mother," answered the child, 
 " and I thought you meant yes. He will, won't he ?" 
 
 " You don't understand, my son," she answered. " Father 
 can't do things in that way. How are you now, Clarence ?" 
 
 " My head feels better, but somehow I'm so dizzy. I can't 
 see plain, something comes before my eyes like flashes. 
 Where is Alice gone ?" 
 
 His sister sat directly before him, and his bright eyes were 
 gazing full into her face. She started up in alarm. A quick 
 imperative gesture from her mother stopped the exclamation 
 that quivered on her lips. 
 
 " Alice is here, Clarence," she said quietly, while the cor- 
 ners of her mouth twitched with emotion. "You have a 
 severe head-ache, my son, and must keep quiet, Alice, dear,
 
 KATE TVESTON. 149 
 
 take Carlisle away, and call your father up. I think I heard 
 him come in down stairs." 
 
 When her husband entered the room, Clarence was looking 
 very pale, so pale that his father uttered an exclamation of 
 alarm. " Are you faint, Clarence ?" cried he, laying his hand 
 upon his shoulder.< 
 
 The boy did not answer, but turned paler and sank back 
 upon the floor. Judge Ainslie caught him up, crying in an 
 agitated voice, " Some water, Helen, for heaven's sake, water." 
 
 The mother flew to the dresser, and held a glass of water 
 to his lips. He paid no attention to her, but rolled his eyes 
 as though in agony. 
 
 " He is in convulsions," sobbed his mother, rushing to the 
 hall to summon assistance. He clenched his hands, and 
 moaned, foaming at the mouth, and fixing his eyes in the 
 agonized stare that accompanies attacks of that nature. 
 
 It was not, however, very severe or of long continuance. 
 Before the physician had arrived, he was entirely over the 
 violence of the attack, although still regardless of what was 
 passing around him. Dr. Currer being the family physician, 
 and a man of warm feelings, felt much interest in his patient. 
 " Clarence," he said, stooping over the pillow. "How are you ?" 
 
 There was no answer, only a deep sigh. Ammonia was 
 applied to his nose and mouth. He stirred. " Clarence," said 
 his mother, bending over him. He half-opened, his eyes ; she 
 rubbed his hands, watching eagerly for the first sign of con- 
 sciousness. At last he whispered, "Mother." She spoke to him, 
 " What is it, darling ? do you feel better 2 Look at me. He 
 turned his face towards her, and slowly opened his eyes. She 
 shuddered; there was a look in them she had never seen before. 
 " Where are you, mother ? I don't see you," he murmured. 
 
 She sank into a chair. " Oh my child !" then suddenly 
 rallying with a strong effort, she motioned the doctor to his 
 side. He took his hand, saying, " Clarence, look at me, my 
 boy." Again those large dark orbs were uplifted, and an
 
 150 KATE WE8TON. 
 
 involuntary start on the part of the physician spoke a world 
 of meaning to the anxious mother. It was over directly, and 
 Dr. Currer, with true professional nonchalance, gave quiet 
 directions for his treatment, and took his departure, asserting 
 that there was no danger of any sudden relapse. 
 
 He spoke encouragingly, but that quiver of agitation, and 
 a studious avoidance of meeting her glance,' sent an indefin- 
 able thrill of apprehension through the heart of the watchful 
 mother. 
 
 There was no visiting the fair that night. Mr. Pufton came 
 and stayed the whole evening, dividing himself judiciously 
 between playing the agreeable to Mrs. Maylie, and nursing 
 poor Clarence, who had been^a long time his especial favorite. 
 The attractions, indeed, proved so powerful both ways, that 
 the poor little dumpling gentleman was thumping continually 
 up and down stairs for a full hour after his arrival, until 
 Aunt Sophy, taking pity on his little trotters, came up stairs 
 and seated herself at her nephew's bedside. 
 
 " Poor little chap !" he cried, hastily mopping up his eyes. 
 " Had a headache this morning. Villainous rascal, ma'am. 
 Murderous wretch. Regular scape-gallows, ma'am." 
 
 Whether those complimentary epithets were applied to 
 the lady he was addressing, the boy upon the bed, or some 
 person unknown, it would have been quite difficult to deter- 
 mine, inasmuch as he frowned violently at the lady, shook his 
 head furiously 'at the boy, and looked in all conceivable 
 directions, with the air of a man who was meditating a pre- 
 cipitous descent upon some imaginary offender. 
 
 " See here, Clarence," he said, bobbing over him, " soon as 
 you're well, I'll get father to let you spend the whole day 
 with me in the fair. Lots of glorious things there. Little 
 ships, and all sorts of everything. I'll buy you a new bat 
 and ball, I will. You shall play with it all day, soon as you 
 get well, mind." 
 
 " I think I shall be well to-morrow," said Clarence, bright-
 
 KATE WESTON. 151 
 
 ening. " If I could only see you now. I guess its one of 
 those blind-head-aches Aunty has sometimes. Don't you 
 think so, mother ?" 
 
 Mrs. Ainslie did not think so. The symptoms were too 
 violent. There was a terrible dread tugging at her heart, but 
 she felt the importance of calmness, and answered with a 
 stifled sigh, " I don't know, dear. The doctor said you would 
 be better to morrow." 
 
 u Suppose I should get blind," he said, thoughtfully. " It's 
 so strange ; I've got such a queer feeling about my eyes." 
 
 Mr. Pufton whisked about in a state of tremendous excite- 
 ment at the bare supposition of such a thing, whipping his 
 pocket-handkerchief across his eyes in a very suspicious man- 
 ner, and taking a few hasty turns up and down the room. 
 
 Mrs. Bailey thought to herself, " What a pity that man was 
 a rumseller. No one would ever think so, she was sure." 
 
 Mr. Pufton flew about a deal faster, and rubbed his eyes a 
 deal harder, when Dr. Currer informed him in confidence 
 that there was very little prospect that poor Clarence would 
 ever see again. The injury he had sustained was of so serious 
 a nature as to preclude the probability of his ever being free 
 from a liability to being attacked at any hour with the epilep- 
 tic convulsion of the previous evening. Some affection of 
 the eye consequent upon his disease must probably -destroy 
 his sight. 
 
 It was many weeks before this was communicated to the 
 unhappy parents. A sadness brooded over the house, such as 
 an affliction of that nature alone could bring. Death steals 
 our darlings away, and time ripples quietly over the wreck of 
 our shattered love, until we forget that it is there. But when 
 the sun of light goes down upon a loving son, or brother, or 
 friend, leaving them to a life-long night, our own hearts 
 travel with them into the shadow. As the hope of restora- 
 tion grows fainter, our sympathies twine closer around the 
 sufferer.
 
 152 , KATE WESTON. 
 
 The whole family went softly about for a long time after 
 the first attack of Clarence. As the gentle, amiable boy 
 groped his way from room to room, never complaining, 
 always patient, and loving as ever, every hand was ready to 
 assist. His mother would sit for hours with his head upon 
 her lap, reading or relating some history that could divert his 
 attention. Kate and Alice taught him to knit, and braid 
 little baskets of wire for their toilet-stand ; his father took him 
 out with him to his office ; even little Ellie and Carlisle tried a 
 great many ways of their own to amuse their blind brother. 
 As for poor Rover, he actually seemed to understand perfectly 
 the whole affair. He would sit by the hour together at his 
 young master's feet, every now and then looting with such 
 an earnest, wistful glance into his face, and rubbing his head 
 against his knee, so lovingly that Clarence could hardly be a 
 minute without him. 
 
 About three weeks after the first convulsion, he was seized 
 with another, more violent and painful. Then they became 
 more frequent, so that before the winter was half out, 
 scarcely a week elapsed without their recurrence. 
 
 Clarence was sitting one day alone with his mother. The 
 fire burned brightly in the grate. He sat in his low chair at 
 one side, and she was sewing opposite him, while Rover lay 
 stretched upon the rug before the fire. He had been musing 
 for a long time, without speaking a word. His mother 
 glanced occasionally across to see that he was comfortable, 
 now and then stirring up the fire, or looking out of the win- 
 dow. 
 
 "Mother," he cried suddenly, with a joyful start, "I can 
 see ! I see Rover and you as plain ! Oh ! dear mother, I can 
 see." 
 
 She let her work drop, and rushed towards him. He put 
 both arms about her, and looked into her face. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, you look just the same as ever, and Rover, too. 
 Rover !"
 
 KATE WESTON. 153 
 
 The dog sprang up towards him, Clarence patted him, and 
 laughed and cried alternately. 
 
 "Where's Alice and father?" he exclaimed. "I can see 
 them now just as well as you can. Do call them quick. Oh ! 
 dear oh !" 
 
 He put his hand quickly to his forehead, uttering a low 
 cry of pain, then, as though relieved, looked up into his 
 mother's face. 
 
 " There, it's all dark again, mother. Oh ! dear, how dark. 
 Darker than it was before." 
 
 He sat down again in his little chair. His lips quivered. 
 He burst into tears. The great drops rolled down over his 
 face and he swayed backwards and forwards convulsively. 
 
 " I shall never see again," he sobbed. "How dark it is ? I 
 can't even see the fire. Oh ! if I could only see father and 
 all, once just once. And I thought I was going " 
 
 He laid his head down upon his knees, and cried aloud. 
 His mother knelt down and took his head to her bosom, with- 
 out saying a word, and her own tears streamed down over the 
 clustering curls. They sat so for some minutes. At length 
 she found breath to say, " It is the Lord's will, let Him do 
 as seemeth good in His sight. My dear dear boy !" 
 
 It was too hard a lesson for the child. He only sobbed 
 the more, and clung closer to that yearning heart, while she, 
 the tender, weeping mother sent up such prayers to heaven 
 from her inner soul, as our Heavenly Father treasures till he 
 shall answer in his own good time. And yet the burden of 
 her prayer was not that he might see again. The Lord had 
 sent the trial, and she was praying for His aid to bear it. 
 Praying that when those sightless eyes should close for ever 
 in this world, they might open to the glories of the celestial 
 city. That Jesus would take the stricken lamb to His bosom, 
 and carry him through the green pastures, and beside the still 
 waters. 
 
 Well for thee, mother, that the blackness of coming years 
 7*
 
 154 KATE WESTON. 
 
 fell not then upon thy spirit. " Mercy held the vail over thy 
 future," or a fiercer curse than the life-shade falling on thy 
 boy, would have loomed up frightfully before thy vision. 
 Hope and pray and trust. Thou wilt have strong need, 
 mother gentle, yearning mother. 
 Clarence never saw again.
 
 KATE WESTON. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LITTLE MAGGIE had washed up the dishes, and swept the 
 room, and " cleared up " with a nicety that would have satis- 
 fied any Yankee housewife. Mrs. Terry had just coaxed the 
 baby to sleep a circumstance very satisfactory to all baby- 
 tending mammas, and Mr. Terry was about starting down 
 towards the village. 
 
 " I think, Jennie," said he, " I shall want Maggie along to 
 come home with the meat, or you will not have it in time for 
 dinner. I shall be detained some time at Mr. Meadows' ." 
 
 " Very well, I can spare her now as well as not," answered 
 his wife ; " Maggie, Maggie !" 
 
 The little girl came running in answer to the call. 
 
 " You may get your little basket, and put on your hat and 
 shawl," said her mistress. " Mr. Terry wants you to go down 
 to the village with him to bring home the dinner." 
 
 The little pale face brightened, and the girl bounded away 
 to do her bidding. 
 
 " There is something uncommon about that child," remarked 
 Mr. Terry, following her with his eyes as she left the room ; 
 "I can't feel at all towards her as I would towards a ser- 
 vant." , 
 " " ISTor I," answered his young wife, re-arranging the cradle- 
 quilt over the sleeping baby." " She has won her way into 
 my heart entirely. Indeed she is so gentle and affectionate, 
 it would be hard to repulse her." 
 
 " Her manner shows that she has never learned what 
 belongs to the station she occupies," answered her husband.
 
 156 . KATE WESTON. 
 
 " It's your business to teach her that, Jennie. There is too 
 much familiarity in the way in which she conducts towards 
 you. It's for her own good to know it." 
 
 " I don't know that either, Charles. I thought so at first, 
 but really I don't think she means any harm at all by it. I 
 would hardly alter it, if I could without wounding her feel- 
 ings, which I cannot do ; so I think best to take her just as 
 she is," 
 
 " It was rather an odd proceeding, though," answered her 
 husband, " for her to dance up behind you at the table this 
 morning, and Mss you while you were eating your breakfast. 
 Can't you let her know it isn't agreeable to you to be treated 
 in that manner ?" 
 
 "I'm not quite so certain it isn't agreeable to me," she 
 answered, smiling. " I am sure it comes right from the 
 heart, prompted by genuine affection, and commodities of that 
 sort are too valuable to be thrown away for the sake of a 
 little false etiquette. Yesterday she put both arms around 
 my neck, and asked me if I wouldn't please to love her, she 
 loved me so much ? Well now, what could I do ? You 
 wouldn't have had me thrust her away from me, and so break 
 her spirits entirely." 
 
 " No, not exactly that, Jennie, but I'm afraid Catharine is 
 beginning to put on airs on the strength of the indulgence 
 shown to Maggie, and it wouldn't be quite so pleasant in her, 
 you know." 
 
 " Charles, suppose we send Maggie to school, and prepare 
 her to teach. She's quite a good scholar now, for one of her 
 age, and I think she has considerable talent." 
 
 " My dear wife, that wouldn't do at all. How could you 
 get along without her? She's sifch an excellent little nurse, 
 too." 
 
 " I could manage very well now, Charles, if you'll let me 
 try ; the baby has begun to creep, and she amuses herself a 
 great deal. I think it would be an excellent plan. .Then,
 
 KATE WESTON. 15*? 
 
 you see, Catharine would have no excuse for putting on airs 
 Come, now, this is quite a pet plan of mine. I've been a 
 whole week thinking it over." 
 
 " Well, well," said her husband doubtfully, " you may have 
 your own way, only on trial, mind, though I really think it s 
 strange notion, and I'm afraid you'll tire yourself out with 
 that baby, and everything else you have to do." 
 
 There was quite a commotion in the neighborhood when 
 Maggie made known the fact that she was to be sent to 
 school. Catharine turned up her nose very contemptuously, 
 and declared that she " couldn't see why some folks was 
 always sot above other folks, when there wasn't no sort o' 
 difference between 'em." Rosy and Joe thought Maggie 
 deserved it every bit of it. " She was a most uncommon 
 cretur ! they nebber seed nuffin like her." Mrs. Jones, who 
 lived just below, grumbled that " some was always in luck ; 
 no luck ever came to her. If they'd only took her Beccy 
 now, 'twould ha' been worth while ; nobody couldn't make 
 nothin' out of her to hum. But then she couldn't expect to 
 be nothin' more nor the most wretchedest mortal on airth. 
 She never was, and she didn't s'pose she could be." 
 
 On that same morning, Edward Clarence had stepped over 
 to Mr. Gamp's sanctum with papers of some importance, 
 having reference to the sale of the land spoken of by that 
 gentleman to Dr. Higgins. He was to meet him there in an 
 hour, to witness the signatures, and Gamp was to settle mat- 
 ters with the young gentleman previous to his arrival. When 
 young Clarence entered the room, no one was there but 
 Billy, who was moving about pale and spiritless as ever, with 
 that same shadow always lingering over his face. 
 
 "Where's Mr. Gamp, Billy ?" he asked, glancing at the boy. 
 
 " Gone out, sir. He's been gone ten minutes. He'll be 
 back in ten. You was to please to wait." 
 
 " If your ten minutes is half an hour, I believe I'll take a 
 run across the road. I might as well. Think so, eh ?"
 
 158 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Ten minutes half an hour " murmured the boy, look- 
 ing up in blank astonishment, 
 
 " He didn't say half an hour." 
 
 Edward laughed outright. " I didn't say so, did I ?" he 
 asked. " Some people say ten minutes, and mean half an 
 hour understand 2" 
 
 " He don't," said the boy abruptly ; " he'll do everything 
 he says. If he said he was going to kill you in ten minutes, 
 he'd do it." Having gone so far, he started and fell back, evi- 
 dently frightened at his boldness. 
 
 " You needn't be afraid of me," said Edward, pityingly. 
 " Poor fellow. I see you don't like your master." 
 
 Billy looked round to the door, as though it might open 
 by some invisible power, then putting his face down to Ed- 
 ward's, whispered, 
 
 " You'U tell him." 
 
 " Nonsense, boy. I'll cut my own head off first." 
 
 " Well, then," he answered, in an excited tone, and glanc- 
 ing again fearfully at the door, " I hate him. He knows it, 
 too, and he says I shall smart for it yet. Oh, dear. I do 
 smart for it every day." 
 
 " Why don't you leave him, then ?" asked Edward. 
 
 " I can't," answered the boy, " he won't let me." 
 
 " Pshaw, Billy, what are you made of? Take my advice, 
 have a regular blow up, and clear out. I wouldn't stay 
 in such a place as this, at any rate. Come now, tell him 
 so." 
 
 The poor fellow opened his eyes wide with terror at the 
 bare idea. 
 
 " He'd kill me, I know," he muttered in a hoarse whisper, 
 " he'd kill me if he knew I talked so to you." 
 
 " Why, what right has he to keep you ? You're not his 
 child. Haven't you any father and mother ?" 
 
 " No, he says he's my uncle, and my father told him to take 
 care of me when he died. But I don't believe him. He hates
 
 KATE WESTOH. 159 
 
 me. Just see here." He drew up the sleeve of his jacket, 
 exhibiting a large blue spot upon his arm. 
 
 " He did it ; he does so every day, and beats me too some- 
 times." 
 
 "And what do you do to make him beat you?" asked 
 Edward. 
 
 " Nothing at all. I'm so afraid of him I daren't do a thing." 
 
 " This is a very bad place for you," said Edward. " I will see 
 what can be done to get you away. Just have a little patience, 
 and" 
 
 " Oh no !" interrupted the boy hastily ; " don't ! he won't let 
 me go ; he'll only hate me worse than ever. It's a bad place, 
 I know that better than you. It's a horrid place. It was a 
 horrid place in New York. They used to drink and fight, 
 and gamble. I've seen them play till they looked mad enough 
 to kill one another, and one night a young man jumped up 
 from the table and screamed out, ' There's the last cent,' and 
 just held a pistol to his mouth, and fired. I've seen women 
 and children come there, and go down on their knees to him, 
 and beg him to let their husbands and fathers alone, and not 
 * be holding out traps for them to drink and play, and, he'd 
 laugh at them, and maybe that very night he'd get the men 
 drunk, and kick them out into the gutter. Ugh, it was awful. 
 It'll Mil me yet." 
 
 The boy had gone further than he had ever been before. 
 So far that he was alarmed, and trembled violently. " He'll 
 be here now in three minutes. Oh, if he found out what I'd 
 been saying." 
 
 * At this instant the door opened, and the worthy gentleman 
 made his appearance. 
 
 The pitying look on Edward's countenance, and the boy's 
 glance of terror were not lost upon him. He merely remarked, 
 however, " Fine day, Mr. Clarence. Billy, be off to your busi- 
 ness. You've idled away the whole morning. You're the 
 worst boy to manage I ever knew. Go along, sir. Here, take
 
 160 KATE WESTON. 
 
 this demijohn over to Mr. Crane's. Don't be loitering along 
 the road now. It won't take you over two hours. Take the 
 road up by the creek." 
 
 The boy shouldered his demijohn and departed, leaving the 
 young doctor to transact his business with the rumseller. 
 
 "Somewhat colder to-day," he remarked, throwing on 
 another stick of wood. " Winter has set in, in earnest. Well, 
 it's high time. New Year's is almost here. Is it light enough 
 1 for you, sir ? There's nothing doing here in the day-time, so 
 I don't open that side window. Well, we might as well pro- 
 ceed to business." 
 
 " Certainly sir," said Edward, " here are my papers." 
 
 " It's so cold this morning," said Gamp, " we may as well 
 have something to warm us up a bit." 
 
 He stepped across to the shelves, took down a decanter, 
 and brought it to the table. " Take a glass, sir, it'll do you 
 good after your cold walk," he said, at the same time pouring 
 out two glasses of wine. The glasses were drained three 
 times before business was commenced. There was some 
 entanglement in relation to a former title that needed clearing 
 away, and Edward, not feeling well, was considerably per- 
 plexed in explaining it to the satisfaction of the purchaser. 
 Gamp insisted at every fresh difficulty that he would feel 
 much refreshed by renewing his libation, and pressed him so 
 politely to join him, that the young physician could not refuse 
 without, as he thought, being positively impolite. 
 
 Before the hour was over, Edward had become considerably 
 excited, while Gamp, who had taken the same quantity, 
 remained cool and collected as ever. The young man had 
 gone frequently as far as this, on similar previous occasions, 
 and had already contracted a taste for the stimulating bever- 
 age. As those indulgences, however, were generally followed 
 by slight headaches, he had resolved at every repetition 
 of them to indulge no more. But these resolutions, like 
 the figures a child draws upon the sand below high-water-
 
 KATE WESTON. 161 
 
 mark, were washed away by the first wave of impulse or 
 desire. 
 
 " Good morning, Higgins," said Gamp, as that worthy 
 ^talked into the room. 
 
 " How's the shakes now ? Gone for good ?" 
 
 Dr. Higgins's expression was certainly suggestive of a dying 
 calf as he sank into his chair. " Bad enough," said he, " have 
 a wretched time of it. But I tread the mill steadily, that's 
 my motto, that's the motto for every physician, sir, for every 
 man. What's brought you to comparative competence, sir ?" 
 He did not pause for an answer to this question, but a queer 
 smile on Gamp's face answered it notwithstanding. "You 
 have been always on the spot, sir," continued he, " and the day 
 will come when I too must have my reward, although past 
 years have done little for me, very little." 
 
 "Pho Higgins," cried his friend, "don't be nonsensical. 
 Have something to cheer you up. Here's some Champagne. 
 Help yourself." 
 
 The long-faced doctor helped himself quite freely. 
 
 " You're not going to be so ' uncivil as to let Dr. Higgins 
 drink alone ?" said Gamp to Edwird. " Take a little for com- 
 pany's sake. You haven't tried this yet." 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," said Edward, a little confusedly. "I 
 believe I have taken enough, it doesn't agree with me." 
 
 " That's all fancy sir," was the rejoinder. " Really, I 
 shall take it quite amiss if you refuse to pass judgment 
 upon this Champagne." As he finished speaking, he passed 
 another goblet to the reluctant young man, who did not 
 know what else to do, so took it from his hand, and com- 
 menced sipping it. By the time that was gone, it was quite 
 a dubious point to him, whether Mr. Gamp or Dr. Higgins 
 were talking to him, or a little of both. He had never felt 
 quite so bad before. He began to entertain a singular suspi- 
 cion of himself. 
 
 There was no business worth speaking of to transact, so
 
 162 KATE WESTON. 
 
 there was no need of Edward's remaining longer. As the 
 door closed after him, Gamp burst into a laugh. 
 
 "A capital joke that," he cried, "Higgins, don't you believe 
 his father'll stare when he sees that pattern son that ' he isn't 
 a bit afraid of,' staggering home in that style. Well, Hig- 
 gins, there's no danger of leading you astray, you tender 
 lamb, ugh !" A leer of contempt gleamed in those malicious 
 eyes as he spoke. You'll take good care of your health and 
 your money, and somebody'll take good care of you, never 
 fear. You might come to the gallows yet, but you won't be 
 dragged there by the common agent, that's sure. You're too 
 cunning for that. Drink away, no fear of your hurting your- 
 self." 
 
 Dr. Higgins took this complimentary address quite stoic- 
 ally, looking as resigned and sanctified as though he were a 
 Bunyan or a Latimev being persecuted for Ms religion. 
 
 "Well," he said at last, after coolly dispatching his fifth 
 glass of wine, " Your business is pretty much settled, I sup- 
 pose !" 
 
 " No," answered Gamp, with a sneer, " it tickles me so, this 
 wonderful youth nibbling the bait so readily ; I've had many 
 a harder case than that. I wouldn't wonder if he took to it 
 naturally now." 
 
 "He's young, excitable, and unsuspecting," said Higgins 
 morosely, " I wouldn't lead him any further." 
 
 Gamp interrupted him with a mocking laugh. " You don't 
 want to lose a profitable pupil. D o*n't be afraid ; if the devil 
 wants him, he's employed a better teacher for him than I am, 
 and 'tain't likely he'll take him out of your hands. It was only 
 for a little joke on that swaggering father of his, I knocked 
 the chap over a bit to-day. I'll not meddle with him any 
 more, if he doesn't come of his own accord, unless I get a 
 gambling concern out here, and then I shall naturally fleece 
 him to clothe myself, ha, ha ! Or if he tampers with Bill 
 I saw the young imp cower a little more than common this
 
 KATE WESTON. 163 
 
 morning, if he attempts to " he did not say what " by 
 
 heaven, they shall both curse the day they were born !" The 
 ominous squint grew into a scowl of defiance, and his fist was 
 clenched. 
 
 " What hold have you got over that boy ?" asked Higgins, 
 pouring some more wine ; " he acts as though he expected you 
 to murder him with that frightened look of his. Everybody 
 sees it." 
 
 " What do I care if they do ?" shouted Gamp. " Maybe 
 I shall some day, not all at once though. Never you mind 
 now," he added, lowering his tone, we've had business together 
 none of the whitest before this ; you've got secrets tha-t are 
 nothing to me, I've no doubt, and I've got some maybe that 
 don't concern you. It's for our interest to keep mum as far 
 as possible on each other's affairs. I owed the boy's father a 
 grudge, that's all. Poh, 'tisn't worth telling !" 
 
 Higgins, in whom prudence was the reigning cardinal vir- 
 tue, concluded that it was advisable to hold his tongue. The 
 two friends stretched their feet out to the fire, and lit their 
 cigars. We will leave them to a quiet smoke, and run along 
 after Edward as he bends his steps towards home. 
 
 It was' a clear winter's morning. The snow spread asvay 
 in an unbroken sheet of white, sending back the rays that 
 flashed upon its bosom. A quiet beauty bathed the trees 
 whose pendent icicles outvied the diamond's lustre : the hills 
 all rosy in the morning sun-light ; the fields stretching away to 
 the calm river gliding in the distance ; the cloudless winter sky- 
 that arched the whole landscape ; the dazzling sun that smiled 
 down upon the world, as though no broken hearts were there. 
 
 And heedless of it all, he who so loved to mark their glo- 
 ries reeled on over the slippery road, scarce able to keep from 
 falling. Strange fancies crowded through his brain. His 
 head whirled painfully. He sat down in the road to rest. A 
 little hand was laid upon his shoulder. It was Maggie, look- 
 ing very bright and cheerful, with her basket on her arm.
 
 164 KATE WESTON 
 
 " Are you ill, Mr. Edward ?" she said softly, touching him. 
 He turned round and looked into her face. She started back 
 in alarm, with a sudden exclamation of surprise. 
 
 He spoke to her, " Y-Yes, I b-lieve I'm sick ; where 
 am I ?" 
 
 There was no longer any doubt on her mind, though she 
 could hardly believe her senses, as she saw him sitting . there, 
 with that strange, wild look. It reminded her of her mother. 
 What should she do ? Two figures were coming toward her. 
 She knew them both by sight, though she had never spoken 
 to them. The younger one stooped a little, as though skulk- 
 ing from an enemy. They came up to where he was sitting 
 in the road, and she standing beside him. She looked up 
 into the face of the taller of the two. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Steele !" bursting into tears. He stooped down 
 in alarm to see what was the matter. He, too, started back 
 suddenly, while the other boy mumbled to himself, " Just so. 
 I knew it. Always so." 
 
 " Take hold, Bill, and help him up," said Steele, to the 
 other. " He must get home, at all events. I did not think it 
 would be so with him." Two or three tears dropped from 
 between the long points of the collar, as the intoxicated youth 
 strove to rise, and, failing in his attempts, fell heavily upon 
 the crusted snow. 
 
 " I think I'm worse," he stammered. " Father'll can't 
 you get me a drink. Halloa Steele you there ? Bless 
 you boy what makes you come out here in the snow ?" 
 He was evidently striving to appear sober, and was evidently 
 growing worse every moment. 
 
 " I'm afraid he'll never be able to reach home," said Steele, 
 with a sorrowful perplexity of tone and look. " What can 
 I do ?" 
 
 Maggie first looked at one, then at the other, as though 
 waiting anxiously for their decision. _ The younger boy looked 
 more jaded and despairing than ever, as he stood there, gaz-
 
 KATE WESTON. 165 
 
 ing into the flushed face of his morning's confidant. At last, 
 when no one said a w*ord, the little girl looked timidly up. 
 " Please, sir," she said, " I know where to take him, if you 
 think so. His father'd feel so bad." 
 
 Steele shook his head. " Not to Mr. Terry's," he answered, 
 " that's too far." 
 
 " No, I don't mean there, sir. Its just round the corner, in 
 that little house; Rosy lives there. " 
 
 " And who is Rosy ?" 
 
 "Mr. Weston's Rosy. Joe's Mr. Weston's man, and 
 Rosy's his wife. She goes across the fields to his house 
 every day." 
 
 " Maybe she's not there," said Steele, hesitating. 
 
 " Won't you please come and see, sir ; she wouldn't tell 
 anybody, and his father wouldn't find it out then, either." 
 
 It was the best thing to be done under the circumstances, 
 so they started for the cottage, Steele on one side of Edward, 
 and Billy on the other, while Maggie ran before to prepare 
 Rosy for the arrival. She knocked at the door, all out of 
 breath, and the turbaned head made its appearance. 
 
 " Oh, Rosy, I'm so glad you're here ; Mr. Edward is sick on 
 the road, and they are going to bring him here. Don't tell 
 anybody, Rosy, dear. He's so bad." 
 
 " Not tell nobody ?" cried Rosy. " What are you gwine 
 to tell nobody fur( What's the matter, sweety ?" 
 
 But she need not ask, for as she finished speaking, the three 
 turned the corner, and advanced under the trees towards her. 
 
 " Lord hab mercy on him, he's been an' got drunk," she 
 cried, raising her hands in astonishment. " What is we a 
 coming to, dat's all ?" 
 
 " Billy," said Clarence, as they entered the house, " walk in 
 poor fellow I'm sick now but I will help you yet. 
 Come in." 
 
 The boy followed him. Steele laid him on Rosy's bed, 
 while Maggie whispered :
 
 166 KATE WESTON. 
 
 "There sir, we will see to him now. You needn't stay 
 any longer. I'm so sorry." 
 
 The tears started to her eyes again, but she wiped them 
 away, and followed him to the door, "Please, sir, don't tell 
 of it," she said softly, as he stood upon the steps. 
 
 " No, child, certainly," he answered. " You're a good little 
 girl." 
 
 She blushed at the abrupt compliment, saying simply, " No, 
 sir, not at all. I love him so. Maybe I'd have died, if" 
 she was interrupted by Rosy's calling to her : 
 
 " Maggie," she said, at the same time coming to the door, 
 " Mr. Edward wants you an' Billy dar. Mebbe better both 
 on you stay till he gits asleep, or he'll be a kickin' up a muss. 
 I nebber b'lieved I'd have dat 'ar rumseller's chap in dar. 
 Dey's all sons ob de devil dey is. 'Pears I can't help it 
 now though, no ways." 
 
 " Good bye, sir," said, Maggie, turning away. " Thank 
 you, sir." She seated herself on one side of the bed, and the 
 boy on the other. They kept very still, but they didn't have 
 to watch long, for he was asleep in five minutes. 
 
 " Dar now," said Rosy, " you kin just go 'bout your busi- 
 ness now. I'll take care ob him till he gits over. Why, 
 what's the matter wid yer, boy ? got him tipsy, and den a cryin' 
 over it. Go 'long. I nebber seed nuffin like yer." She spoke 
 in a tone of honest indignation to poor Billy, who had 
 covered his face with both hands, and was weeping silently. 
 
 " Oh, I didn't get him so," he sobbed, " don't think it of 
 me." 
 
 " Well, what are you sniffecatin' for den, dough you's got 
 enough, de Lord knows," she answered, frowning at him 
 severely. 
 
 " Don't, I'm sorry I'm sorry," he murmured. " It's always 
 so ; I never see it no other way. I wish I could die." 
 
 " De Lord wouldn't hab no mercy on yer, if yer was to die 
 now," said Rosy, a little softened. " Ye've got to git out o'
 
 KATE WE6TON. 167 
 
 dat awful place, where yer kills folks, an' -repent in dust an' 
 ashes. Mebbe ye'rs doin' it now, is yer ?" She gazed at him 
 in considerable perplexity of mind as to the sources of his 
 sorrow. 
 
 He didn't answer her, but after a little wiped his eyes, and 
 rising, moved towards the door. 
 
 " Well, Rosy, I must go too," said Maggie, or I shan't be 
 home in time. " You'll take care of him," glancing at the 
 sleeper. 
 
 " Nebber you fear, dear cretur," answered Rosy. " Don't 
 I know what de wretches is up to ?" casting 'an indignant 
 glance at Billy. " My Joe's come home jest so, lot's o' times, 
 since they got out here. It'll kill me right out, ef he keeps 
 on so. He can't help it, poor feller. They's oilers a seticin' 
 ob him on. Fse afeard nobody dat gits in dar'll eber git out 
 again. Poor Missy Katy. Ef Mas'r Edward keeps on, it'll 
 break her heart, like its a breakin' mine." Two or three 
 great sobs heaved the broad breast as she bid Maggie goodbye, 
 and returned to watch beside her charge. 
 
 The boy and girl left the door together. She walked along 
 at his side. He looked awkward and miserable. She turned 
 her eyes pityingly upon his face. At length she ventured to 
 speak. 
 
 " I'm sorry for you," she said gently. 
 
 He looked confused, not knowing what to answer. 
 
 " I know what the matter is," she continued, more gently than 
 before. " You are unhappy, you don't like your place, nor. your 
 master." 
 
 " I didn't say so, did I ?" he asked with a half glance of 
 alarm. 
 
 " No, but I know it without. How did it come ? that, I 
 mean, you know." 
 
 " I wasn't there at all. He sent me off this morning. Mr. 
 Clarence was there. He wasn't so then." 
 
 " It's too bad," sighed the little girl. " Don't you think so 2"
 
 168 KATE WESTON. 
 
 There was something in her manner that spoke real sym- 
 pathy, and it encouraged her companion. 
 
 " Yes, I do," he answered. " Everything's too bad there. 
 I'm too bad. Nobody ever comes there, but they get just like 
 him, and a great deal worse." 
 
 Then turning towards her, he asked suddenly, " What made 
 you cry ? Do you live with him ?" 
 
 " No, but I love him very much. I was a little beggar in 
 New York, and he took care of me. He's very good." 
 
 " Yes. I like him," he answered, " haven't you got any 
 father and mother ?" 
 
 " I've got a mother, but she can't ever see me or do any- 
 thing for me. I might just as well not have any." 
 
 "I haven't any at all," said her companion dejectedly; 
 " I don't know as I have a friend in the world. Mr. Clarence 
 was very kind to me this morning. He looked pleasanter 
 than any body has in a long. time. Nobody likes me, or cares 
 for me." 
 
 Two or three tears sparkled on the little girl's eyelashes as 
 she looked up at the melancholy face. "/ care for you," she 
 said. " I'm very sorry for you. I like you too. I thought 
 just as you do, before he took me out here to Mrs. Terry's." 
 
 The pitying words went direct to the poor fellow's heart, 
 and melted the ice there. He rubbed his sleeve across his 
 eyes, and drew a long breath, but didn't say anything. By 
 this tune they had reached the corner. Each paused a mo- 
 ment before they parted. 
 
 " Do you ever pray ?" asked Maggie softly. " Do I do 
 what ?" he said, turning towards her. 
 
 "Pray pray to God to be your % friend. That's the way I 
 did, and He was my friend. He sent Mr. Clarence after me." 
 
 " How do you know ?" he asked doubtfully. 
 
 " Why Mrs. Terry said so." I used to have a teacher once 
 who told me always to do that when I was in trouble. I was 
 in a great deal of trouble then, for I thought I should starve,
 
 KATE WESTON. 169 
 
 so I prayed to Him for Jesus sake to help me out, and He 
 did. He always does. Won't you pray f ' 
 
 " I don't know how. I never prayed in my life." 
 
 " Never did ! Poor Billy !" Here there was an awkward 
 pause, during which the boy looked at the ground, and the 
 child pityingly into his face. 
 
 At length she added, " J)on't you go to Sabbath-school ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Nor to church ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Why ? won't he let you go out Sundays ?" 
 
 " Yes, if I want to. But I don't care for anything. I go 
 and lie down in the fields where I can't see him" 
 
 " Why don't you go to church ?" 
 
 " Nobody wants me there. . I'm too bad. Everybody knows 
 I'm too bad to go there." 
 
 " That isn't the way to think. The worse you are the more 
 need for your going there. What do you do so dreadful bad ?" 
 
 " Stay there. Do you suppose anybody that stays there is 
 fit to go to church ?" 
 
 The little girl smiled. " But it isn't that makes you wicked." 
 
 He looked up in blank astonishment. Poor fellow ! That 
 had always seemed to him the sum and substance of his evil 
 doings, and he cowered under it with as much shame as 
 though he could have helped himself. 
 
 Maggie smiled again. " Won't you come to church next 
 Sunday morning ? I'll watch for you. You can learn to be 
 good there." 
 
 Billy shook his head doubtfully, but assented bashfully to 
 her proposition. 
 
 " I'll pray for you, too, Billy. Can't you pray ? It's very 
 easy. Just ask God, for Jesus's sake, to take care of you, and 
 make you better. That's all. I can't stay any longer now ; 
 good-bye." 
 
 She gave him a farewell glance of sympathy, and ran 
 8
 
 170 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 quickly along over the snow with her little basket dangling 
 from her arm, trying to make up for lost time. He looked 
 after her a few minutes, wiped his eyes again, and walked 
 wearily in the opposite direction. But the pale face looked a 
 little less jaded, the bent figure a little less drooping, and a 
 small gleam of something like hope played in the sunken eye. 
 It seemed so strange for anybody to say a kind word to him. 
 He had never had loving words spoken to him, and kind 
 deeds done. Blows, and hatred, and violence had been his 
 portion. He had seen sights that might have turned his heart 
 to stone. But there was a something down in its far depths 
 that would not let him become that for which he had been 
 trained. 
 
 Some flowers will live year after year shut out from the nour- 
 ishing sun-light ; but they lose their brilliant hues, their fra- 
 grance, their beauty. So some hearts may be nurtured in 
 moral darkness, with no ray of knowledge, or piety, or love to 
 call out the hidden talents and virtues that shed lustre upon 
 man's career. So it was with the dejected victim of the rum- 
 seller. So it is with thousands in our Christian land, growing 
 up in worse darkness than that of heathenism. Oh, there 
 are many spots in every city and village of our Republic, 
 where shadows fall heavier and denser than upon the banks 
 of the Ganges, or the shores of benighted Africa. And they 
 fall densest above the distillery and the porter-house, the grog- 
 shop, and the drunkard's home. 
 
 Christians of America ! as you pour out your wealth to 
 send light to darker lands, looking above and beyond the 
 blight that sweeps along your own listen ! A wail swells 
 from your eastern to your western shores a wail of human 
 agony from breaking hearts pouring alike from hamlet 
 and city. The mother's shriek of despair, the last groan 
 of the murdered wife, the cry of innocent babyhood, the rav- 
 ings of the dying inebriate, the curses of the ruined outcast, 
 the fierce blasphemy of the incarcerated felon, going up in
 
 KATE WESTON. 171 
 
 one eternal chorus to the throne of God. " Having eyes, ye 
 see not, having ears, ye hear not." Will you not look ? will 
 you not listen? You may lift this mountain of vice and 
 misery from your soil, and cast it into the depths of the sea ; 
 not by your puny single hands, that crumble now and then a 
 fragment from the rock, but by the mighty lever of the law ! 
 A law made by strong-hearted freemen to give back liberty 
 to their weaker comrades. Throw soul and strength into the 
 great struggle for the right. See the plague lying at your own 
 doors, ready to seize upon your own child or brother, and 
 battle it away as though you felt its sting in your own 
 heart. 
 
 Do this, and the time shall come when you may turn your 
 prisons into churches, and your drunkards into men. Remem- 
 ber that through all the broad field of human toil and 
 struggle, " there's no such word as fail."
 
 172 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 EBEN JONES Laving been hard at work all day, had come 
 home to supper. No very agreeable prospect before him cer- 
 tainly, as he opened the back door, and stepped into the 
 kitchen. A dirty wash-tub filled up the passage-way, Avhich he 
 adroitly managed to avoid, only, however, to have his inge- 
 nuity taxed in making his way through a perfect labyrinth of 
 household utensils that had been thrown down, here, there, 
 and everywhere, to suit the convenience of the user. 
 
 Two or three cracked iron pots stood along in front of the 
 stove ; a couple of dingy-looking pans of bread lay on one side 
 of it, as though just taken from the oven ; a Avash-boiler, 
 half full of dirty suds, was set close.upon the opposite side, two or 
 three armfuls of Avood lay scattered among the whole, and a 
 battered tea-kettle was perched upon the top of the stove, as 
 though holding absolute sway over its humbler neighbors. 
 
 Upon the table by the window, all kinds of articles lay 
 jumbled up together in a most interesting state of confusion. 
 A pail of flour, a pan of soft-soap, a dish of butter, a paper 
 of saleratus, a dish-tub filled with swill, half a loaf of bread, 
 and a pile of wet clothes formed the staple lading of the 
 accomodating table, not to speak of various smaller articles, 
 that, as it were, set off the above-mentioned to the best 
 advantage. A small space in front between the swill-tub and 
 the clothes was sprinkled with flour and bits of dough from 
 the bread that Mrs. Jones had been kneading there ; but the 
 kneading-tray, pitcher of water, yeast-pail, &c., were ranged 
 on chairs at either side, while a few jugs, skillets, and tin pan's 
 lay scattered tastefully about the floor.
 
 KATE WESTON. 173 
 
 It was too common a state of affairs for Mr. Jones to notice, 
 so he went straight into the other room, where his amiable 
 helpmeet was dispensing supper and good advice to her chil- 
 dren, who paid vigorous attention to the first, and utterly dis- 
 regarded the last, save when it came in the shape of a ringing 
 box on the ear, or a slap upon the shoulder. No higher 
 praise can be lavished upon the table and its accompaniments, 
 than the assurance that it was in perfect keeping with the 
 place where it had been prepared. The young Joneses, 
 unwashed and unkempt, presented a picture of dirt and neglect 
 that would have done honor to any Hottentot, a fact appa- 
 rently obvious to the lady mother, from the occasional remarks 
 she let fall upon the subject. 
 
 " Jake, couldn't you have decency enough about you to get 
 a splice of that ere dirt off your face before you come to 
 your supper ? I declare you're the worst, nastiest lumrnux 
 that ever sat down to a Christian woman's table." 
 
 What evidence the poor fellow had that he was at a Chris- 
 tian woman's table, we have no power to say ; doubtless his 
 mother had her own reasons for saying so, though they 
 certainly wouldn't have been obvious to an unenlightened 
 observer. 
 
 " Now Beccy, don't be a chopping at the meat like a pig. 
 Here's your father a' comin,' and I reckon he'll be wanting a 
 little on't. Jake, take your fingers out o' the sugar-bowl, 
 they're dirty as pison." Catching an assurance in an under- 
 tone to the effect that she was a " darned mean critter," she 
 bestowed upon the disrespectful young gentleman a vigorous 
 stroke of her by no means delicate hand, causing him to 
 shake his head very threateningly, as soon as her eyes were 
 occupied with some other culprit. . 
 
 " Well Eben," she said as her husband entered, " how does 
 things get on up to the Clarence's ? I reckon you'll hardly 
 get much work there till spring." 
 
 Her husband presented the appearance of a man broken
 
 174 KATE WESTON. 
 
 down, not so much by labor as vexation of spirit. Not ill- 
 looking, but with a kind of settled expression of pain upon 
 his hard features, that made him rather disagreeable. Find- 
 ing it to his disadvantage, however, to take any notice of the 
 cause of all his troubles, he had years ago settled down into 
 a kind of desperate resignation, that, perhaps was the best 
 thing he could do to avoid falling a prey to utter despair. 
 
 " I shall get enough to do now," he answered, " Teddy 
 Toole is discharged, he's never sober, and Mr. Clarence can't 
 do nothing with him, so he's give it up for a bad job, an' I'm 
 to get his place." 
 
 "Do tell now !" ejaculated his wife, "he was such a first rate 
 worker too. Well, now I am just glad on it ; that stuck up 
 Kitty Toole was for ever a boasting about her fine things ; 1 
 guess she'll have to sell her smart carpet after a while. Look 
 out now, you don't get drunk an' lose your place too ; you 
 an't nothing better than you should be, I'll be bound. You 
 young imps, what are you quarrelling about now ?" she cried, 
 turning to where her two eldest olive-branches were keeping 
 up a vigorous fire of kicks under the table. 
 
 " Jake's a' maMn' snoots at me " cried Beccy, giving a 
 more violent thrust of her heavy shoe against her brother's 
 ankle, while he administered an affectionate pinch as an offset 
 to her assault. They set up a roar simultaneously. " She's a 
 kickin' of my shins, she's got the skin all off, I know," he 
 cried, at the same time lifting his foot almost level with his 
 plate. 
 
 " Hold your tongues, you young catamounts !" cried Mrs. 
 Jones. " I'll take the skin off o' both on you ; I should think 
 you'd been a wadin' in the pig-sty by the looks of your 
 feet." 
 
 " He's a pinchin' me orful !" bellowed Beccy ; " my arm's all 
 black and blue. I wont stop, so /" and she administered a 
 smart slap upon his cheek with her greasy hand. This being 
 returned with interest by her brother, there is no telling to
 
 KATE WESTON. 175 
 
 what length they might have gone, had not their mother 
 stepped between them, and dealt a few powerful whacks on 
 either side, until they were glad to content themselves with 
 scowling at one another, and bestowing such sly thrusts 
 under the table as would not come under the range of their 
 mother's eye. 
 
 " If you'd a had one grain o' common sense," she continued, 
 when justice had been administered, "you'd never a let him 
 get in there afore. I told you that three years ago when he 
 wanted to hire. You might a been smarted up as grand as 
 him, if you'd only followed my advice. But it ain't of no sort 
 o' use, I might talk till dooms-day, an' you'd never be the 
 better for it." 
 
 Her husband didn't answer, but he thought of the kitchen 
 in connection with the " smarting up," at the same time feel- 
 ing as positive as herself of the truth of her last assertion. 
 
 "There comes the cow, Sally," remarked her husband, as 
 they were finishing tea, " I suppose it's time she was milked. 
 Are you going to milk her ?" 
 
 " / going to milk, indeed ! are you crazy entirely, you lazy 
 chap ? / goin' to milk. Just look at the pile of work I've 
 had to do to-day, an' never stopped since five o'clock this 
 morning. Get along out o' this, or I'll do something you 
 won't like, and don't let me see your face again till you fetch 
 me the milk all strained ; you know me well enough, when my 
 temper's riz." 
 
 Poor Mr. Jones did know her well enough when her " tem- 
 per was riz," and felt that he had been peculiarly unfortunate 
 in making such a remark, for his better half had fully intended 
 to dispatch one of the children on the business under discus- 
 sion, but the question he asked, had so aggravated her, that 
 she was determined to make him do penance. He, finding 
 opposition worse for him in the end, always yielded indiscri- 
 minately to her demands. 
 
 " Now, Beccy, do you just stir about a bit, and help me
 
 176 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 clear up the things. I don't expect you'll do nothing though, 
 you're too much like your dad for that. Jake, do you 
 just go along and saw the wood for morning. You young 
 'uns may as well go to bed. If my brats were like other 
 folkses, now, Beccy'd take and give all on you a sound wash- 
 ing, afore she'd let you go so pison-nasty off to bed ; but I 
 was never nothing but a tormented wretch since I was born, 
 and I don't expect to be nothing else till I die." 
 
 When the cow was milked, the obedient husband ventured 
 to remark, " Sally, I was to go over after supper to see Mr. 
 Clarence ; he had something to tell me about my work." 
 
 " Pretty work, I should think," cried she, giving a pecu- 
 liarly cross curl to her ugly mouth, " if you must be off all 
 day, and then go prancing off of an evening ; it's only an 
 excuse, I'll be bound." 
 
 " Well, but if I do not go," he said, deprecatingly, " I'll be 
 very likely to lose my place, that's all." 
 
 " I don't believe nothin' o' the sort," she answered. " It's 
 just 'cause you want to get over to Gamp's, I know. Well, 
 you can go, as Mr. Clarence wants you, but mind if you go 
 nigh the rum, I'll skin you, see if I don't, now ;" and she 
 enforced her words with a most formidable shake of her 
 brawny arm. 
 
 So Eben Jones started on to Mr. Clarence's, thinking to 
 himself how some men were blessed in loving wives and 
 happy homes, while he well it was no use. The less said 
 and thought the better, but of one thing he was sure. If 
 those who rallied him about the lady of his choice, could 
 stand for one week in his place, they would find it was no 
 fault of his, that he tried to make the best of a bad matter, 
 and even sometimes submitted to indignity of the worst 
 character, rather than endure the abuse of a woman's tongue, 
 and the weight of a woman's hand. 
 
 Mrs. Jones having settled everything, which operation con- 
 sisted in getting the children off to bed, the various articles
 
 KATE WESTON. 177 
 
 in the kitchen huddled indiscriminately into the pantry, and 
 Jake and Beccy seated over the same apple-basket, paring and 
 quartering, at the same time that they took advantage of 
 their proximity to snarl at one another to their heart's con- 
 tent, slipped out at the door, with a jug in her hand, and 
 started off for a drop of comfort after her miserable day. 
 The way was very lonely, but it made no difference to her. 
 If spoken to, she would have as soon knocked the offender 
 down, as used the broom-stick to her delinquent husband. 
 
 In one portion of the road, a bridge with no railing at the 
 side lay over a deep chasm, filled with rocks. As she passed 
 it, she looked over the edge and shuddered. She would have 
 been ready to pour out her wrath upon her husband, had he 
 been travelling on the same errand, but in her own case it 
 was entirely different. " Didn't she feel worn out with her 
 day's work, and trying to make something out of those good 
 for nothing brats. Hadn't she more need of it, poor, unhappy 
 creature that she was, than any woman in the village ?" 
 
 So she laid in a supply, and returned, rejoicing that she 
 could, at any rate, "drive dull care away," now and then, 
 without any one's being the wiser for it either. 
 
 When her husband had finished his business with Mr. 
 Clarence, he started for home, but meeting Teddy Toole, was 
 prevailed upon by him to turn in for a little into the Saloon. 
 Sundry misgivings as to the nature of his home reception, if 
 his breath should betray his indulgence, skimmed across his 
 mind, as his companion shoved along a glass of Brandy and 
 water. This was quite evident to the red-whiskered man, 
 who was also one of the party. 
 
 "No matter, Jones," he cried, "just drink for once in your 
 life, and forget your troubles. Don't go about for ever with 
 that horrible scowl upon your face. Better get drunk at once, 
 and put a merry face on the matter. If you was pretty well 
 gone now, you wouldn't mind a gentle beating at all." 
 
 " Hould your tongue, Jonathan," interrupted Teddy good- 
 8*
 
 178 KATE WESTON. 
 
 naturedly. " What'll you be after taxing the poor fellow for ? 
 It's enough sure he's' got to worry the sowl out of him, with- 
 out your vexing him any more." 
 
 " Sure as I live," said Jonathan earnestly, " I don't mean 
 no insult. I was only a telling him for his own good, an' I 
 don't believe I'd be a bit different if I had such a wife. 
 Now, Jones knows I'm his friend, an' that's just what I advise 
 him to do. Eum'll keep the blue devils out better 'n any- 
 thing I know on." 
 
 No one present seemed to ask themselves what kind of 
 devils that same rum let in, for Toole ordered three glasses of 
 brandy and water, and they all partook. Jones, however, 
 refused to indulge further. 
 
 " What a silly chap you are now," again argued Jonathan ; 
 " don't you know you'd be better off if you took the world 
 easy ?" 
 
 "If it wasn't for my children;" said Jones, his features 
 working a little. " To be sure they've got the name of bad 
 children, but it's all her fault. I know what drinking leads to, 
 and if I had a decent wife, I'd never touch a drop as long as 
 I lived." 
 
 Teddy's countenance fell. His conscience was administer- 
 ing some pretty smart thumps. lie had a decent wife, a very 
 loving wife, and he loved her very much. But he couldn't 
 help it ; there was the temptation, and he could do nothing but 
 yield. 
 
 " But your children won't be a bit the worse," responded 
 Jonathan. " Come now, take a little comfort, for once in 
 your life." 
 
 The poor man knew that matters couldn't be much worse 
 than they were, and he longed to forget for a moment that he 
 was worse off than other men, so laid aside further scruples, 
 and took his share with the rest. 
 
 "There is Tom Brown," he cried, when he had become par- 
 tially invigorated, " and Joe, too. Welcome Joe, here's a seat."
 
 KATE WESTON. 179 
 
 The young man walked in with a swagger, acquired since 
 we last saw him, and Joe came limping\ along like a lame 
 Hercules, grinning as broadly as usual. 
 
 A great many more came in the course of the evening, 
 but being for the most part of a different class from our 
 companions, the party was left quite to themselves in a corner 
 of the saloon. 
 
 By eleven o'clock Mr. Jones felt, sure enough, like " taking 
 the world easy," and even went so far as to assert that he 
 " didn't care a fiddle-stick about what Sally did. She wan't 
 nothing but a baby. He could manage her easy enough." 
 
 " Och, you coot you," cried Teddy, in a high state of 
 drunken felicity. " Now is it yerself will dare to say that 
 same, when niver a sowl of us but knows ye'll be afther getting 
 a sound beatiag." 
 
 " Dar, now," said Joe, rolling his eyes, " I'd feel oncommon 
 easy, if I know'd dat was all Rosy'd do." 
 
 " What does Rosy do, now ?" asked young Brown, putting 
 a large mug to his lips ; " tell us, and I'll treat you to a gin- 
 sling." 
 
 " Why," said Joe, " she will oilers act so curis ; she looks so 
 hicumbobflorius when I gits home, dere ain't no doin' nuffin' 
 wid her. 'Pears I can't make her look at me at all, not till 
 next day, an' den doesn't she most kill herself a cryin' and 
 a beggin' on me not to go near dem renimical rumsellers ? 
 Lawk alive, nuffin' she don't do to bring me round to be de 
 good husband agin, she says, nor nuffin' I don't do neider to 
 keep from de whiskey, but someways I oilers gits cotched. 
 Whiskey's a queer ting," he added, philosophically, rolling- 
 his eyes and scratching his head. " An' rum's a queer ting } 
 an' brandy, an' gin. Dey's all berry queer tings. Dis nigger 
 neber seed nuffin' like 'em." 
 
 " Hurrah for Rosy !" cried Jones, who was getting uproar- 
 ious. " Rosy's the gal. Now aren't you ashamed o' yourself, 
 Joe, ever to go fur to git tipsy ? I'd jump straight into the
 
 180 KATE WESTO5. 
 
 Hudson afore I'd drink a drop if I had such a wife as that 
 'ere." 
 
 " Hurrah for Rosy !" 
 
 "Sure an' you'd niver be after wanting a darkey wife,' 
 interrupted Teddy, feeling a little of the universal jealousy 
 between the negro and the Paddy swell within him. " Troth, 
 I mean no offince till ye, Joe ; it's yerself is a raal respictable 
 nagur, but niver a white man marries a black woman. No 
 offince now," he added, in a patronizing tone, " it's jist meself 
 considhers ye the natest nagur that iver I saw since I came 
 out of owld Ireland." 
 
 Joe, being very humble-minded, and not at all apt to quar" 
 rel on his own account, merely grinned at the compliment, 
 while he prepared to swallow the gin-sling ordered by young 
 Brown. * 
 
 "Come now," exclaimed this last young gentleman, "couldn't 
 we have a bit o' fun to-night ? Kick up a row, or something 
 o' that sort ?" 
 
 " I'll tell yer what," said Jonathan, "it won't do to be kick- 
 ing up rows now-a-days ; we'll maybe get into the wrong box. 
 Can't none of you stan' treat, and give us a supper. Some o' 
 you housekeepers? A nice cold chicken, or a piece of boiled 
 ham and some poached eggs'd taste fine. Come now." 
 
 " Sally boiled a tremendous ham to-day," cried Jones, pour- 
 ing down a good drink of gin and water, " I've a mind to take 
 you home wi' me, 'pon my word." 
 
 Teddy opened mouth and eyes in astonishment, Joe grinned, 
 Brown nodded his head delightedly, and Jonathan Meeks 
 laughed outright. 
 
 " Oh, clar out dar !" cried Joe ; " guess ye'd dare to now." 
 
 " That's first-rate ;" said Brown. " Come along, boys ; that'll 
 be fun. Show off your spunk now, Jones. Don't let her get 
 ahead on you." 
 
 Jones, who did not quite mean what he said, looked per- 
 plexed, but he hardly knew how to back out.
 
 KATE WESTON. 181 
 
 " I'll bet a dollar Eben don't dare go home, and order Sally 
 to lay supper out for five," cried Jonathan, winking at the rest. 
 
 " An' I'll bet ye two, Eben, if ye oncet gits in, ye'll run 
 away again ;" said Teddy. " Ye'll never be dharing to show 
 the face of a man as long as ye live." 
 
 " Done!" cried Jones. "I'll never back out when I say a 
 thing. Come now, who holds the stakes ?" 
 
 " Joe Joe !" cried two or three voices, as the betters laid 
 the money on the table. Joe pocketed it with a chuckle of _ 
 delight at the anticipated sport, while the whole party laughed 
 uproariously as they swaggered out of the room. 
 
 " Now then, Jones, you're in for it," said Brown, as they 
 neared the house. " Don't lose your bet, nor let us lose our 
 supper." 
 
 " You just wait outside till I go in and tell her," said 
 Jones, beginning, in spite of his rum-inspired courage, to 
 tremble for the consequences of his demand. 
 
 " Shure, an' it's fair ye'll be dalin' wid us, Jones," cried 
 Teddy, staggering rather precipitately against Jonathan 
 Meeks. 
 
 "To be sure, Teddy," cried Jonathan, dexterously balanc- 
 ing himself against his more intoxicated companion, " neigh- 
 bor Jones don't never do nothing else, I reckon. He'll go 
 in first, and we'll wait a bit outside." 
 
 Teddy was about to utter an exclamation of dissent, but a 
 sudden nudge, administered by Jonathan, attended by a signi- 
 ficant nod, opened his eyes to the fact of a small window, 
 half a dozen feet from the door, through which the gentle- 
 tempered lady herself could be seen taking a draught from a 
 tin cup upon the mantel. Jones, being either too tipsy or 
 too heedless to notice the tell-tale window, stepped softly up, 
 delighted that he was permitted to go alone. 
 
 As he walked in at the door, the men ranged themselves 
 at either side of the window. " Squat down here, Joe," said 
 Brown, " and put your face close to the window. She can't
 
 182 KATE WESTON. 
 
 see you half so well as us, your skin is so near the color of 
 the night." 
 
 Joe's teeth glittered again. " Och, murdher alive !" cried 
 Teddy, " don't be afther grinning, Joe, she'll see every blissed 
 ivory in your head. Faix an' I couldn't say which mother's 
 son iv us'd be afther walking in to that she-sarpint," he added, 
 as Mrs. Jones, hearing a step in the passage, turned herself 
 fiercely about to give her spouse a proper reception. " Shure, 
 it's a lucky thing we stayed outside. Be the Vargin, but she's 
 ready to ate him look !" 
 
 " Hold yer tongue, Toole !" whispered Jonathan ; " she'll 
 hear you if you keep your gab a running so. Listen now." 
 
 Jones, who had paused a moment in the hall, before enter- 
 ing, at this juncture opened the door. He certainly looked 
 in her face as he had never dared to look before, and, had she 
 not been under a similar stimulus to himself, might have 
 been successful in his experiment. 
 
 As it was, however, he was no match for her, and his eyes 
 were glad to seek some other object than her fiery ones to 
 rest upon. 
 
 " Sally," he commenced, in his blandest tones, " I have 
 brought some friends to take a mouthful with me. Where's 
 the ham you boiled to day ? Just set it out with some bread 
 and butter, and I'll get you a new ribbon to your hat." 
 
 His wife stood for a full minute without taking her eyes 
 off his face, looking as though she would gladly turn into a 
 tiger for the pleasure of munching him. " Come, my dear," he 
 added, at length. 
 
 " My dear !" she cried, shrilly, " my dear ! Don't you ' my 
 dear' me, Mr. Eben Jones. Fine doings this, indeed, staying 
 out till this time o' night an' then coming home drunk as a 
 loon. Ugh ! you're nothin on airth but a nasty, ha-atefnl, 
 good-for-nothin' brute beast, an' I'm jist the worst, miser- 
 ablest, unhappiest wretch that ever lived ; but I'll show you. 
 You needn't to try comin' any of vour tricks over me. You
 
 RATE WESTON. 183 
 
 know well enough I could wollop you any day, an' if ye 
 don't look out, ye'll get it now." 
 
 " Sally," said Jones, with sudden firmness, " I can tell you 
 that I'm the master in this house, an' I'll let you know it, too, 
 if it costs me my head. Do you think I'm agoing to let you 
 go on in this here kind of a fashion all your life ? I'll take 
 things into my own hands after this, I reckon." 
 
 " You will, will you ?" shrieked the exasperated lady, seiz- 
 ing the tin and flinging it full at her unfortunate husband. 
 " You are the master, are you ? very well, just try it, that's all. 
 It's all along of yer goin' with them old rummies ; I knew 
 what you was up to, you born liar. If ever you go there 
 again, I'll thrash ye, I'll lay it on till ye can't stand, hear ? 
 You're so drunk you can hardly walk. You'd better git to 
 bed afore I use a cow-hide to yer back ; 'twouldn't be the 
 first time, ye know that !" 
 
 Jones seized hold of the bed-post to steady himself, but 
 having made a drunken resolve to win his bet, again con- 
 fronted her, endeavoring to speak with such dignity as should 
 awe her into submission. 
 
 " From this time, Sally, I will have the sayin' an' the doin' 
 of things in this here house. Things ain't agoin' on as 
 they've been agoin' on. I tell you, I've invited some friends 
 .home with me to take supper. Just step into that room and 
 bring out the ham." 
 
 O 
 
 Mrs. Jones stood for one minute looking at him with an 
 astonished kind of fury, then without saying a word, made 
 for a corner where a rough hemlock broom, worn almost to 
 the stump, stood ready to her hand. She seized it firmly in 
 both hands, and rushed so suddenly upon her authoritative 
 lord, that before he had time to prepare himself, a broad 
 stroke from the good lady's implement of attack, descended 
 so powerfully upon his shoulders, that he half-rushed, half- 
 staggered to the other side of the room. She did not stop, 
 but followed him closely, laying on the strokes with an energy
 
 184 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 that might have made the fortune of a brigadier-general, 
 whilst he essayed in vain to face the storm of blows, whirling 
 himself face about, and as, often ducking his head and expos- 
 ing his back to the chastisement of his wife, as being more 
 commodious to her and less annoying to himself. 
 
 So they went, round, and round, and round, he avoiding 
 and she following him up, crying triumphantly, "That's 
 it ; that's it ; you're the master, you are ! Oh, ye dirty 
 vagabond, I'll settle ye ! I don't sit .up here till twelve o'clock 
 for nuthin'; ye got it easy this time, next time I'll skin ye 
 alive! /wvited friends, eh! let 'em come; I'll give 'em a 
 supper they didn't bargain for. Get out the ham, eh ! Til 
 flounce 'em with it, if I do'; let 'em show their faces, that's all 1" 
 
 There must be an end to everything, so at last an end came 
 to the patience of the poor belabored Jones ; to her agility 
 and energy, however, the end was much slower in coming. 
 By the time she had just entered fairly into the spirit of the 
 sport, he was ready to take refuge in flight, and as he preferred 
 keeping the peculiar state of affairs from the knowledge of 
 his out door companions, and had no other convenient hid- 
 ing-place, he dropped precipitately upon his hands and knees, 
 and made the best of his way under the bed, ensconcing him- 
 self behind the dubious colored valance. As he disappeared, 
 however, he caught a glimpse of Joe's teeth shining at the 
 window. Here was a fix now. They had seen it all, and he 
 had no other resource but to become the laughing-stock of 
 the whole party. 
 
 Mrs. Jones, judging truly enough that his concealed posi- 
 tion gave him an unfair advantage over the enemy, declined 
 following to his hiding-place, but stood broom in hand, ready 
 to renew the attack whenever opportunity should 'offer. The 
 gentleman under the bed considered, and very wisely con- 
 cluded to make the best of a bad. matter .by winning his bet 
 and joining in the joke, so lifting the valance just at the head 
 of the bed, he called out with a nod towards the window,
 
 KATE WESTOX. 185 
 
 " Sally, I'll show the face of a man as long as I live." She 
 rushed at him with the broomstick, but he made good his 
 retreat, and half a minute after his red face bobbed out at the 
 foot, " Sally, do ye see ! I'll show ye the face of a man as 
 locg as I live." 
 
 " Be jabers," muttered Teddy at the window, " but I've lost 
 my bet, after all. Och, he's a cunning gander, and I'll say 
 that same." 
 
 " Law sakes !" whispered Joe, " stuffing his huge fist into his 
 huger mouth to keep back the great guffaw that he felt burst- 
 ing within him, " law sakes, she's a ' Rorer Boralis !' she'd take 
 de pompositest citarel in dese here United States ob America. 
 Nebber seed nuffin' like her." 
 
 " If ye don't mind a beating, Joe, just laugh," said Brown, 
 fearful of his giving way to his suppressed merriment. 
 
 " Howld yer tongues, ivery one iv yiz," whispered Teddy, 
 " say what she'll do now." 
 
 But she did not seem inclined to take any more active 
 measures than standing still, and watching the dirty valance, 
 precisely as a cat would watch a hole through which some 
 unhappy mouse was about to make its appearance. Jones 
 managed to evade her skill, and by the sudden shifting of his 
 position in his singular quarters, to put her entirely at fault. 
 Now he would peep at her from the wall at the head of the 
 bed, then lift the covering from the opposite corner, then bob 
 suddenly out in the middle, reiterating at every fresh appear- 
 ance with increasing vehemence, " I'll do it, Sally. I'll show 
 ye the face of a man as long as I live," but dexterously diving 
 back ajjain whenever the hemlock branches came in too close 
 
 O 
 
 proximity to his nose. 
 
 Joe could contain himself no longer. " Ha ha ha ! 
 he he he ! hi hi hi !" burst on the ears of the startled 
 sovereign of her dominions. She wheeled suddenly about, 
 and caught a glimpse of Joe's white teeth and rolling eyes. 
 For a moment she seemed bewildered, then, reassuring herself,
 
 186 KATE WESTON. 
 
 she rushed to the. door, and out into the hall. The men, not 
 caring either to fight a woman, or be beaten by a woman, 
 made good their retreat, Jonathan Meeks shouting behind 
 him as he staggered away, " Never mind Sally ; Eben's won 
 the bet in spite of you. Hurrah for Eben Jones, Sally ! 
 He'll show you the face of a man as long as he lives !"
 
 KATE AVESTON. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " WELL, and how's Johnny to-day ?" said young Clarence, 
 stepping up to the little bed where lay Kitty Toole's youngest 
 child, moaning with the pains of a malignant fever. 
 
 " Shure, sir, an' he niver slep a wink the whole blissed 
 night," answered the anxious mother. " The poor thing ! his 
 head's like fire, an' he isn't willing to keep the cowld wather 
 upon it at all, at all. He jist got into a little doze las night 
 when Teddy came a bursting in, and wakened him right out 
 iv his slape; he jist lifted him right up, an' begun a dancin' 
 him about the room, an' whin I sez to him, sez I, ' Teddy, now 
 you'll be afther killin' the child intirely,' he laughed at me, an' 
 histed him up on his shoulder. He didn't pay no heed to the 
 swate little darlint cryin' ; and whin he laid him down, shure 
 I had to put the cowld wather to his head, an' the drafths to 
 his feet." 
 
 " Poor little fellow !" said the young man, laying his hand 
 on the small, hot forehead. " However, Kitty, I think his 
 skin is a little moist, and that is an excellent sign. Yes, the 
 palms of his hands are quite damp. If you are careful, he'll 
 be well in a few days." 
 
 " Bliss you for sayin' it, sir," answered the poor woman, 
 re-arranging the coverlet over the child. " I was afeard I'd 
 lose him." 
 
 " No, he is past the crisis now, I think ; only keep him 
 quiet. But I'm going down to New York to-day. Have you 
 any message for Biddy ? I shall call at Mr. Dunn's." 
 
 "Jist plaze to give her our love. Shure, it'll be better
 
 188 . KATE WESTOX. 
 
 niver to inform her of Johnny's bein' sick at all ; it'll jist vex 
 her intirely, without doin' a ha'porth o' good. I'd be glad," 
 she added, in a tremulous tone, " she'd ~ niver find out about 
 Teddy * but she's got a howlt iv it aready, an' tan't no use to 
 hide it. Sometimes my very heart seems swelling as though 
 it would brake intirely ; but if I iver give up, then what's to 
 come o' my weeny ones ? Ye must plaze til excuse me, sir, 
 but ye know yerself how things is agoin, and indade I can't 
 help it, at all, at all." Here two or three little sobs rolled out. 
 
 " Poor woman,' I feel very sorry for you," said the young 
 physician. " Don't you think Biddy might have some influ- 
 ence over him ? Let her come out and try." 
 
 " Och, sorra's the thing we haven't all of us done long ago, 
 whin he was so afore. When he used to be a tryin' an' a 
 tryin' hisself to kape away from the craythur, we did ivery- 
 thing on airth to help him along ; but shure, an' niver nothing 
 did a bit o' good till we come out here where he couldn't git 
 howlt of it. Now, I'm thinking we'll go to ruin jist as fast 
 as iver we can go. Faith, there's niver another rifuge to llee 
 to now, an' niver " 
 
 She stopped, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Never mind, Kitty," said Edward ; " cheer up, and hope 
 for better days ; they'll come after a while, if you have pa- 
 tience." 
 
 Hope and Patience ! Young and inexperienced comforter ! 
 Who ever heard of Hope smiling upon a drunkard's hearth- 
 stone? Yes, Patience is the sovereign there.- She gazes in 
 silent anguish upon the heart-treasures melting from her view, 
 while Hope sits vailed for ever at her side. 
 
 When Edward arrived in the city, he bent his way towards 
 Judge Ainslie's, intending to take a peep at Kate, before visit- 
 ing the Medical College. As Mr. Dunn's was directly in his 
 way, he resolved to call at once, for fear that some other 
 engagement might detain him for the evening. He was 
 ushered into the great parlor, where he found Mr. Dunn,
 
 KATE WESTON. 189 
 
 wrapped in his overcoat, gathering a bundle of papers pre- 
 paratory to going out on business. The house seemed lonely, 
 even dreary, and a pale, haggard look about the proprietor 
 told his young visitor that no wealth or splendor could keep 
 his heart from breaking slowly in its loneliness. 
 
 A studious avoidance of anything having reference to his 
 child was observed by both. Mr. Dunn smiled faintly as he 
 welcomed Edward. 
 
 " So you will be fairly fledged in a few weeks, eh ? Dr. 
 Clarence ! Well, you have my best wishes, Edward. I have 
 no fears but you'll succeed." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Dunn ; I heard that you were also about 
 to take an important step ?" 
 
 " Yes, my boy, I'm going to give up business. It's getting 
 to be a confounded bore. I think I shall take a jaunt to 
 Europe early in the spring. I have been talking of it a good 
 many years." 
 
 " Will you sell out in toto, or reserve a silent partnership in 
 the concern?" 
 
 " Sell all out, and directly. I don't care much what I get 
 for it. There's some ten thousand dollars worth of stock on 
 hand, and the good-will of the business is worth at least 
 ten thousand more, and I'll let it all go for ten thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 "Eeally, sir," said Edward, laughing, "if you had the 
 slightest prospect of selling out to me, I should certainly think 
 you something of a Jew. What can prompt you to lose so 
 largely in a concern where you might as well avoid such 
 loss?" 
 
 " The fact is," answered Mr. Dunn, with a weary look, " I'm 
 deucedly tired of the business, and really feel just now as 
 though I'd give it away rather than be bothered any longer." 
 
 " Shall you give up your house too ?" asked Edward. 
 
 " I think not. The probability is that I shall return in the 
 fall, and I wouldn't want to be cast adrift. Are you going
 
 190 KATE WESTON. 
 
 to do me the favor of spending two or three days with 
 me?" 
 
 " It would .be inconvenient for me, I thank you," said 
 Edward. " I shall have to be as near the college as possible. 
 I thought I would run in and see you before I went up town. 
 I have a little message, too, for your laundress. I should like 
 to see her, if you please." 
 
 " Bridget, you mean," answered Mr. Dunn. " She is not 
 here. She left last week for some reason or other ; I don't 
 know what." 
 
 " Do you know Avhere she is, sir ?" asked Edward. " That 
 unfortunate brother of hers has taken to dissolute habits 
 again. He was an excellent workman, and a better husband 
 and father I never saw ; but he has lately been so constantly 
 intoxicated that father was obliged to dismiss him from his 
 employ, and his family have begun to suffer quite seriously. 
 You surely must remember his coming out with Biddy a year 
 or two ago, to be out of the way of danger." 
 
 " Yes," answered his listener, " I remember something about 
 it, although I seldom pay much attention to the doings of my 
 servants. Ann knows where she has gone, I will ascertain 
 for you." 
 
 After obtaining the street and number of Biddy's tempo- 
 rary abode, and exchanging a little more common-place con- 
 versation with Mr. Dunn, he proceeded to pay his respects in 
 a more agreeable quarter. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Clarence!" cried Alice, throwing 
 down her duster as he entered the parlor, and putting out her 
 hand, " I'm delighted to see you. You're just in time. Kate 
 and I were about going forlorn and lone down into Nassau 
 street. Now we'll press you into our service." 
 
 " Quite happy I can assure you, to be pressed into such a 
 service," said Edward, smiling. " You are all well, I hope." 
 
 " All quite well," answered the young lady, " except poor 
 Clarence, and he's tolerable to-day. I'll run up and call Kate.
 
 KATE WESTON. 191 
 
 Mary's so dumb, she'd hardly know what to say. Au 
 revoir" The lively girl danced out of the room, and rlew up 
 stairs to Kate. 
 
 " Here, lady fair," she exclaimed, flinging her arm about 
 her waist, and whirling her suddenly away from the glass, 
 "just be satisfied with that graceful neglige, and don't 
 smoothe your hair any more. That morning dress makes 
 you look like a Venus in disguise. Who do you think is 
 dov/n stairs?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Kate, a beautiful blush betraying that 
 she could guess pretty truly if she didn't know. "How 
 should I know ?" 
 
 " Oh, you know well enough. Cheriy lips say no, and 
 cherry cheeks say yes. Don't look so transcendently beauti- 
 ful, or I shall die of jealousy. Just to. think of my being 
 there dusting the room in that horrible calico wrapper and 
 curl-papers. I declare I'm mortified to think of it." 
 
 As she laughed very heartily at the mortification, her com- 
 panion did not share in it, but hinted that perhaps some 
 young gentleman she could mention might consider morning- 
 wrappers and curl-papers vastly becoming. Alice, however, 
 persisted in declaring herself a perfect fright, and drove Kate 
 precipitately down to make apologies to Edward, while she 
 underwent the important operation of dressing, although pro- 
 fessing at the same time a total want of faith in her ability 
 to render herself, even with all her skill, at all comparable to 
 Kate, a fact true enough in itself, but one which very few 
 young ladies in similar circumstances are ready to acknow- 
 ledge or believe. 
 
 Kate hadn't a particle of the coquette about her, and the 
 moment Edward's eyes met hers, he saw that all she had told 
 him at parting was true. There was something so loving, trust- 
 ing, and joyous, beaming upon him from their dreamy depths, 
 as though her true heart lay there open to his view, that he 
 put his arm about her, and kissed her precisely as though
 
 192 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 she had not been for three months one of the loveliest belles 
 of the season, seeming and being, in the heart of a fashion- 
 fettered world, the same winning, unspoilable little blossom 
 that Nature made her. 
 
 " Well, Katie," he said, when he had satisfied her that 
 everything was going on in Laconia as respectably as could 
 be expected considering her absence, " well Katie, I'm going 
 to stay with you a few weeks now. As soon as this course of 
 lectures is over, I shall be Edward Pufton Clarence, M. D. 
 I think I shan't study law." 
 
 Kate laughed. " Oh no, one profession is enough, I think, 
 I wouldn't have you bother your brain over another for any- 
 thing. That was a boyish freak, sure enough. You'll have 
 a chance at politics, yet." A mischievous gleam shot from 
 her eyes, and Edward understood it well enough. 
 
 " So you think I've a fancy that way, do you ?" he said, 
 half-laughing. " The only politics in which I shall meddle 
 have reference to a certain little charmer I know of, and aim 
 at some day " 
 
 "There now, Edward," she interposed, laying her hand 
 over his mouth, " there's no necessity for exposing your boy- 
 ish plans. Just wait till you are ready to execute before you 
 communicate them so freely. Do you know I'm so glad you 
 are going to be away from that desperate-looking Dr. Hig- 
 gins. I never could bear the sight of him." 
 
 " And that's a great deal for you to say, Katie. But he is 
 very anxious that I should enter into partnership with 
 him." 
 
 " But you'll never do it ?" said Kate earnestly. u Oh dear, 
 I'm sure he's not a good man." 
 
 " Don't look so alarmed," he answered, " I wouldn't do it 
 if he gave me nine-tenths of the profits, and did all the work 
 himself. I'm certain you can't have a greater repugnance to 
 the man than myself. I never liked him ; there is something
 
 KATE WESTON. 193 
 
 about him that I cannot understand. Sometimes when I'm 
 talking to him, a chill creeps over me, exactly like the shudder 
 you would feel when you looked down into a dark pit, with- 
 out knowing what untold horrors might be there, and I'd just 
 as soon leap into a fathomless quagmire as put myself in his 
 power. I'm heartily glad I'm away from him for good and 
 all, though I don't expect he feels very friendly towards me 
 for rejecting the honor he has proffered me." 
 
 " He's afraid you'll take away all his practice," said Kate, 
 looking relieved. " He's very unpopular." 
 
 " To be sure he is," answered Edward, " but that's his own 
 fault. Poor fellow, I'm sorry for him, too, he is so afflicted 
 with that obstinate chill and fever. I think he might be 
 cured of it, if he were not obliged to go out nights to visit 
 his patients, and I don't know either, but the disease is of 
 such long standing as to be incurable." 
 
 " Well, never mind about him now," said Kate. " Alice 
 and I were just going out in search of a cook for Mrs. 
 Ainslie, and you will be a welcome acquisition to our 
 society. Can you accompany us down to Nassau street 
 Intelligence Office " 
 
 "I am at your service entirely for a day or two," he 
 answered. " The course of lectures doesn't commence until 
 day after to-mojrow. But, Kate, I think we may find a ser- 
 vant without going there. I happen to have heard of one 
 out of a situation this very morning. You'll remember her 
 too. You remember the sister of Toole, who was laundress 
 in Mr. Dunn's family, two years ago, when the family came 
 out to spend the summer. I find that she has left Mr. 
 Dunn's lately, of her own accord, without assigning any 
 reason. She must be a good servant, or she wouldn't have 
 been so long in his employ. I must call on her, at any rate, 
 for poor Kitty would be mightily disappointed if I didn't. 
 Shall we go and see her first ?" 
 
 9
 
 194 KATE WESTON. 
 
 
 
 " By all means," said Kate. " You can never be sure of a 
 good girl from an office. Well, I'll go and complete my 
 toilet as soon as possible, if you have no objection, and we'll 
 run on as soon as possible." 
 
 Edward had no further objection to offer than a second kiss, 
 which he thought it advisable to take in case he should have 
 no other opportunity for an indefinite length of time. Kate 
 laughed and blushed, but offered no resistance, and hurried 
 away to dress. 
 
 As the trio advanced towards the place designated by Ann 
 as the residence of her quondam associate, Edward began to 
 think that things looked familiar. The green door with its 
 dingy brass knocker, and the dirty curtains at the front win- 
 dow, reminded him of the house where he had taken Maggie a 
 few months before, and when he cast his eye upon the piece 
 of painted tin over the door, with the words, " Boarding and 
 Lodging " inscribed thereon, he knew that it was Sally Clark's 
 domicil that they were about to enter. They knocked seve- 
 ral times, but no one appeared to answer the call. The house 
 could not be empty, for the sound of feet rushing up stairs 
 was distinctly audible. 
 
 " Perhaps it would be better to open the door at once, and 
 take the citadel by storm," said Alice, looking up at a win- 
 dow where a quantity of bed-clothes were airing. "There 
 must be people enough there, but its my private opinion, 
 they are all deaf and dumb, for I'm certain we make racket 
 enough to bring them down, if they had any mercy on their 
 own ears." 
 
 "Well," said Edward, hesitating. "My only objection was 
 in having you with me. Will you wait outside while I run 
 up and see, or would you prefer " : 
 
 " Oh, we are not afraid to follow you," said Kate, looking 
 inquisitively at Alice. 
 
 " No, indeed," cried Alice ; " don't, for mercy's sake, leave 
 us behind. I always enjoy going into a strange place,
 
 KATE WESTON. 195 
 
 especially when we have to make our way in spite of such 
 terrific drawbacks as the present. 
 
 Edward tried the door. It was unlocked, and they entered 
 the hall. 
 
 Nobody was to be seen, but a great commotion seemed to 
 be going on up stairs, from the tread of feet upon the floor, 
 and the confusion of voices in several varieties of tone. 
 Every one seemed too busy to pay any attention to them, 
 so they walked on up stairs. The sounds all proceeded from 
 a room apparently in the third story, for on reaching the 
 second floor, they seemed little nearer than before. So up 
 they went, determined to find out what could be going on, 
 until, at the head of the last flight of stairs, they came upon 
 a room with the door open, within which half a dozen women 
 were bustling a'bout in all directions, kindling a fire, carrying 
 blankets and hot water, too busy and too much excited to 
 pay any attention to the knocking below. 
 
 They were noticed now, however, by Bridget herself, who 
 came forward to the door, saying in a husky voice, " Sure, 
 an' it's a sorry sight ye'll see here, sir; a wee innocent 
 jist clane gone intirely. Och, but it's a shame for such 
 doings' to be a'going on in this blissed Ameriky. Will ye 
 be afther coming in to say, my swate young ladies ?" she 
 added, pointing to the rough bed, surrounded by women who 
 were actively engaged with something upon it concealed 
 from view. 
 
 They advanced into the room. One of the women at the 
 bed made way for them, and there, at the foot, upon a pillow, 
 a blue-eyed infant lay like a crushed flower, pale and chill in 
 death. Alice started back with a half-cry, and Kate burst 
 into tears. They glanced at the head of the bed, and were 
 still more deeply moved to see another face, smaller and 
 rounder, half-buried in the clothes. 
 
 " It wavn't o' no sort o' xise," said one of the women, wip- 
 ing her eyes, " we tried mighty hard to bring to that 'ere
 
 196 KATE WESTON. 
 
 little cretur, but the life warn't in her ; so we had to give it 
 up. The baby's been gaping a little, I guess we'll get her 
 round after a while." 
 
 " Were they drowned ?" asked Edward, laying his hand 
 upon the little white forehead. 
 
 " Sure, yer riverence, an' they were starved, jist starved 
 intirely wid the cold," said another of the group. 
 
 " But it's yerself is a docthor, sir, I'm afther remimbering," 
 interposed Biddy. " Faix, an' ye might do something yet." 
 
 Edward shook his head, as he lifted the small hand and 
 clasped the wrist. " It is too late ; poor little things !" The 
 tears started in his eyes, and his voice choked. He touched 
 the smaller wrist that lay upon the pillow at the head ; the 
 pulse was beating, but he could hear no breath. 
 
 " There is hope here," he murmured, looking intently into 
 the half-closed eyes. "But we must have some ammonia 
 immediately. Let me see, I'll go myself. There is something 
 else needed too. Bridget, is there a drug store near ?" 
 
 " On the corner, sir ;" said Sally Clark. " Shan't I go for 
 you ?" 
 
 " No, I think I'll go myself. Just lift it up, and keep rub- 
 bing the hands and feet. There, so ; perhaps you had better 
 hold her in your arms." 
 
 " Oh, let me take her," cried Kate, seating herself beside 
 the bed. " Dear little creature !" 
 
 They lifted the baby, and laid it on her lap, while her tears 
 rained down over the little death-like face. 
 
 " Sure, sir," said Bridget, huskily, " it was all along of the 
 craythur again. The mother went away and got drunk, 
 and the poor childher just went off wid the cowld from the 
 winder there, and nobody niver was the wiser." 
 
 Edward walked quickly to the drug store, obtained what 
 he desired, and turned to leave the place. As he hurried 
 down the steps, he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and, looking 
 round, saw Mr. Pufton, with a face, as usual, twinkling all
 
 KATE WESTON. 197 
 
 over with delight and welcome. But he was in no humor for 
 smiles. His hand trembled and tears stood in his eyes. 
 
 " What on earth's the matter, my boy ?" said Mr. Pufton. 
 " Look under weather mightily. Can't you " 
 
 "Come with me," interrupted Edward nervously, at the 
 same time walking on. " I can't lose a moment, or it may be 
 too late. Come, and I'll show you." 
 
 " What is the matter ?" cried Mr Pufton, trotting along 
 beside him. 
 
 " Why, I had occasion to call on a poor woman here in 
 St., and there I found her trying to restore two chil- 
 dren who were frozen last night. The oldest is dead, but the 
 other I hope to save." 
 
 " Horrible !" exclaimed his listener. " How was it ?" 
 
 " The mother drank to intoxication, and left them all night 
 without a fire, and with the window wide open ; this morning 
 the people in the house found them lying there frozen, one of 
 them, at least, to death. Two sweet little creatures. I left 
 Kate Weston and Miss Ainslie with them tiH I should return." 
 
 " Poor little souls !" cried Mr. Pufton. " What a wretch 
 that mother must be 2" 
 
 " I didn't ascertain any further particulars," said Edward. 
 " The first thing is to bring the child to consciousness. Hera 
 we are ; will you step up with me ?" 
 
 " Certainly, my boy ; lead the way." 
 
 Edward passed up, followed by Mr. Pufton, to the room 
 where the children lay. Another little girl was there, five or 
 six years of age, looking quite sad and frightened. 
 
 " Please sir, will the baby die too ?" she cried, bursting into 
 tears, as they passed her. 
 
 " No, no, I hope not, child," said Edward, pouring a few 
 drops of wine into the mouth of the unconscious child. 
 " Mr. Pufton, will you please take her, I'm afraid it's too much 
 for Kate." 
 
 " Oh no no !" interposed the young girl ; " let me hold
 
 198 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 her; she has opened her eyes once. I'll hold her till she 
 revives." 
 
 Mr. Pufton went to the bed, and looked at the dead child. It 
 could not have been over three years of age. The face was 
 quiet and peaceful, one little hand lay up against the dimpled 
 cheek, the bright hair fell back from the forehead, the eye- 
 lids drooped half-way over the blue eyes. 
 
 The little dumpling gentleman stood there for several min- 
 utes, gazing down upon the bed, and murmuring to himself, 
 as though nobody had been by. " Ton my word, right down 
 murder !" he jerked out, bobbing his head hard three or four 
 times, and brushing half a dozen tears off his fat red cheek. 
 " If they want to kill people, do let them kill grown folks that 
 can take their own part. Sweet little cherub. Thought it 
 was cold, eh ? Father dead mother drunk no fire starv- 
 ing like enough. Bless me, what's this world coming to ?" 
 He gave a nervous stamp, with his foot upon the floor, and 
 whirled about to see how they succeeded with the baby. 
 
 " There, she's coming to now," said Sally Clark. " Here, 
 Lucy." The other child came up and spoke to the infant. 
 
 "Millie, Millie, it's sister, dearie look here, look here." 
 The little creature looked up in her face, and smiled faintly. 
 
 "There, she's over now," said Edward, looking relieved. 
 " Koll her up in the blanket, and carry her about a little, and 
 she'll soon be lively as ever. My little girl, were you here 
 last night." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the child. Mother went away about 
 five o'clock, and locked the door, so we couldn't get out. 
 There was no coal left, and I forgot to ask her to shut the 
 window before she went, and it was so cold." 
 
 " Why didn't you call to somebody to come in to you,' 
 asked Edward. 
 
 " Mother told us that we must keep still till she came back 
 and brought us some supper," answered the child. " I kept 
 thinking she'd come every minute."
 
 KATE WESTON. 199 
 
 " Didn't your little brother cry ?" asked Edward. 
 
 "First he did, and the baby too, dreadfully. I knew it 
 was because they were cold, and I got up on the chair and 
 tried to shut the window myself. But I couldn't, so when 
 Charles and Millie got sleepy, I had to let them get up 
 on the cot close by the window. I got my old shawl and 
 mother's cloak and covered them over as well as I could, 
 but they kept shivering and shivering until they got to 
 sleep." 
 
 " Didn't you go to sleep at all then ?" asked Kate. 
 
 " Not till most morning," she sobbed. " I was so cold and 
 afraid I couldn't, but at last I couldn't keep awake any longer, 
 so I laid down too." 
 
 " And when did you wake up ?" asked Alice. 
 
 " Not till I heard somebody knocking awfully at the door. 
 Then it was very light; I jumped up and called to them, 
 and they asked me where mother was. I told them all about 
 it, and they went away for a little " 
 
 " Were the children asleep too ?" interrupted Kate. 
 
 " I went to the bed and looked at them. They didn't stir 
 at all when I called them and shook them. I put my hand 
 on their faces, and they were so cold. I was frightened then. 
 They burst open the door, and Oh, dear, what shall I do ? 
 dear little Charlie's dead !" Here the little girl put her 
 hands to her face, and burst into a passionate fit of crying. 
 
 "Poor little soul! weren't you cold yourself?" asked* Mr. 
 Pufton, opening and shutting his eyes very hard, to keep from 
 crying. 
 
 " Oh yes, sir, I had hard work to get up at first, but I didn't 
 think about it any more when I felt how cold they were. Oh, 
 dear, what shall I do, what shall I do ?" 
 
 " Confound it !" cried Mr. Pufton, " that woman ought to 
 be hanged, she ought." Another bob of the head. " Blessed 
 little souls they look innocent enough what's her name ?" 
 This question was asked in a tone of impatience and disgust,
 
 200 KATE WESTON. 
 
 as though it was sorely against his will to defile his lips by 
 speaking of her at all. 
 
 "Ryker, sir," said Sally Clark. "Her husband died of 
 
 delirium tremens, three months ago, Rick Ryker. He " 
 
 She did not proceed further, for her questioner, who had 
 seated himself by the baby, suddenly started from his chair, 
 thrust ^iis hands violently into his pockets, bobbed his 
 head about in all conceivable directions, and went trotting 
 up and down the room at a rate that utterly astonished the 
 simple-minded women who were looking on. 
 
 After taking a full dozen turns up and down the room, 
 he came to a dead halt in front of Edward, looking very red 
 and fiery. 
 
 " You remember Ryker, sir ?" he commenced, in a quick, 
 excited manner, " Ryker was my porter, sir, Ryker was as 
 good a soul as ever lived, sir. With me three years, was 
 Ryker. Nice honest fellow then, sir. Good wife enough 
 then too. Took to drinking, sir did all I could to stop 
 him, couldn't make any headway would keep at it, sir 
 drove his wife to despair heard she was bad as he saw 
 him taken at my store never liked to turn him off such 
 a noble-hearted chap poor wife, too, confound it ! sir, some- 
 body ought to be hanged." 
 
 The little gentleman didn't want to cry now. He was 
 laboring under too much vexation for that ; he looked at the 
 pretty little face upon the pillow, 'and trotted off harder than 
 ever. Between the heat of the room, the excitement of his 
 feelings, and his violent exercise, the perspiration broke out 
 in great drops all over his face. Nobody said a word for 
 several minutes, but at last Bridget ventured : 
 
 "Sure, sir, an' I don't think it's herself s the one at all. 
 Faix, but I've seen the way it works, an' wouldn't I be afther 
 knowing ? But didn't I see the poor miserable sowl yister- 
 day, whin she started out An' didn't I say to her, 'now,' sez 
 I, ' don't be afther spinding ths money you've airnt for rum,
 
 wuuiu-u*; itoviut^ " .. T w 1*1 J 
 
 at the door and the mother Btood beside her child.
 
 KATE WESTON. 201 
 
 I know so well what ye'll come to ; now sure an' ye won't.' 
 She sez to me, sez she, ' sure as I 'live, I'm only agoing to 
 bring some bread for the childher, and I'll be back again 
 presently.' It's that varmint of a Dutchman at the corner 
 that leads her on, and leads thim all on, ivery blissed mother's 
 son an' daughter of them all. Don't I know it ? Isn't it 
 myself has catched them many's the time a thrusting the 
 murdherous crathur under me own brother's nose, and they 
 knowin' well enough that he couldn't bide the smell widout 
 upsetting hisself intirely. Och," she concluded emphatically, 
 with an impressive gesture of her hand, "Och, but they're 
 the ones to be hanged !" 
 
 As she stopped speaking, a heavy step was audible on the 
 stairs. Up it came, slowly, unsteadily, while the women 
 glanced nervously at each other, and Mr. Pufton squared 
 himself about in one corner of the room, looking with a 
 would-be resolute air towards the door. On it came, up up 
 through the hall in at the door and the mother stood 
 beside her child. The mother ! Oh, what a mother ! The 
 figure was bent and crouching, the face hard, bloated, brutal, 
 the dress filthy, and over the eyes large black marks told too 
 plainly of her last night's debauch. 
 
 No one spoke. They could not condemn her, for her punish- 
 ment was there before her. They could not offer consolation, 
 for she had forgotten a duty, and violated a love, the hardest 
 to be forgotten, and the last to be violated in this sinful world. 
 She stooped a little over the dead boy. She laid her hand on 
 the frozen cheek. She looked wildly round to the strangers 
 in the room, and, catching at one glimpse of the half-pitying, 
 half-averted faces, the extent of her sin and wretchedness, 
 sank groaning upon the floor. 
 
 The mother still ! Yes mother in whose breast there 
 
 burned a fire, quenchless and insatiable, mother on whose 
 
 life there lay a weight pressing to the grave, mother round 
 
 whose heart there clung a chain whose links no human power 
 
 9*
 
 202 KATE WESTON. 
 
 could sever, mother on whose brow was set the seal of a 
 living death, mother unnatural wretched criminal but 
 the mother still ! 
 
 For a fe\v moments she crouched there on the floor, with- 
 out uttering a word. Then the disfigured face was* slowly 
 raised, and she gazed upon her child. How could it be her 
 child? Not in the proudest mansions of our city, where 
 infant forms and faces, reclining on silken couches, or tripping 
 over velvet floors, float about like rays of sunshine in a dark- 
 ened world, could be found a gentler or a sweeter face. No 
 guilt on that fair brow, no scorn or hate in the curl of that 
 sweet lip. Oh what joy and rejoicing among the angels of 
 God when such little ones are taken from the bufferings of 
 poverty and pain, and the fierce snares that wait their feet on 
 earth, to lie. gently on the bosom of that Savior who has said, 
 " Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, 
 for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." 
 
 When she saw that life indeed was gone for ever from the 
 small still figure, she wrung her hands, and sent forth shriek 
 after shriek in the agony of her despair. Mr. Pufton could 
 stand it no longer. He emerged from his corner, motioned 
 impetuously to Edward, and rushed headlong down stairs, 
 rubbing his eyes at every step, and nearly tumbling over the 
 banister in his nervous haste. Edward, in obedience to his 
 gesture, followed him to the lower entry, where he stood, 
 making a feint of hunting for his pocket-book, but, in reality, 
 taking time to recover his voice. 
 
 " Here my boy, here," he said, thrusting two ten dollar bills 
 into his hand, " that'll pay the expenses of the funeral. I 
 can't stay no use you must do something when that's 
 gone, come to me for more poor Rick Ryker! who'd ha' 
 thought it ?" 
 
 He didn't wait for an answer, but opened the street door, 
 and hurried away in a woeful state of disquietude. He passed 
 the grocery on the corner, and recognized in the sturdy Dutch- 
 
 9*
 
 KATE WESTON. 203 
 
 man one of his most profitable customers. He hurried on, 
 talking in an undertone to himself, and paying no attention 
 whatever to man. woman, or child that passed him by. A 
 new train of reasoning had evidently been fired in his brain. 
 
 " What a villain you are now, Pufton," he murmured in a 
 low energetic tone. " Who first taught poor Ryker to drink, I 
 wonder? How came he to be the wretch he was? How 
 came his wife to be the wretch she is ? How came that poor 
 
 boy you did it Pufton, you know you did. You are the 
 
 one ought to be hanged, you know you are ! Bless me, I 
 never thought of that before. Catch me getting my porter* 
 drunk again, I reckon ! After all, believe it's more the fault of 
 the seller than anybody else. After all, poor souls, what can they 
 do ? Slaves, just slaves. Declare, I've a mind to give up the 
 business. What's the use though ? Somebody'd sell it 
 they'd get the profit instead of me, that's all. Confound it, 
 what on earth am I to do ?" 
 
 He had probably never thought so much in all his life upon 
 the subject. Temperance men he had always looked upon as 
 a set of fanatics, and the Temperance movement as something 
 very queer and very ridiculous indeed, with which he had no 
 more to do than with the government of Terra del Fuego ; con- 
 sequently this peculiar light had dawned all at once upon 
 him, tumbling him about and bewildering him to a degree 
 quite prejudicial to the equanimity of his nervous system. 
 
 Mr. Pufton quarrelled with himself, made up again, and 
 quarrelled again for a whole week after the above incident. 
 He couldn't get near the place after that day, not for his life 
 he couldn't. He placed money enough in Edward's hands to 
 defray the expenses of the funeral, and make the family com- 
 fortable, besides promising to keep Mrs. Ryker in plain sewing 
 enough to support them if she would pledge herself to keep 
 sober. But, as to visiting her, or arguing the point with her, 
 that was out of the question. 
 
 He reasoned with himself, properly enough too, somewhat
 
 204 KATE WESTON. 
 
 after this fashion. " Now Pufton, you've been the means of 
 pushing her down ; are you going to step up to her and say, 
 ' Madam, how did you dare to fall. Everybody despises you, 
 I despise you. You've killed your child. If you'll be very 
 good and very humble, I'll help you on your feet again.' No- 
 no Pufton, that never would do. Better give yonr money, 
 and send somebody she'd listen to." 
 
 The poor woman, penitent and broken-hearted at the death 
 of her child, listened with gratitude to the generous offers of 
 young Clarence, and, after signing the -temperance pledge, and 
 breaking loose from her old associates, commenced working 
 with a determination never again to taste the poison which 
 had brought death to her husband and child. This was quite 
 encouraging to Mr. Pufton. For two or three months sundry 
 thumps and splinters of conscience pricked and jostled his 
 thoughtless, jolly little heart, but as Edward brought favor- 
 able reports from the widow and orphans of his faithful por- 
 ter, he began to feel quite easy again, and to think, after all, 
 he wasn't so much to blame. If Rick Ryker had never served 
 him, something else would have given him the taste for 
 liquor. Anybody could leave off if they chose. It was ridi- 
 culous to suppose a man couldn't keep from killing himself, 
 if he tried. She was sober enough, now she tried to be. He 
 didn't think he was doing exactly right. But he was doing 
 exacty what a great many others did, and if he didn't do it, 
 they would. 
 
 At the end of a month, when the Ryker family were still 
 doing as well as ever, he felt quite contented again, and, 
 after making arrangements with a large shirt establishment 
 to supply her with plain sewing, troubled himself no further, 
 and looked upon the case as entirely cured.
 
 KATE WESTON 205 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ONE evening, Clarence Snow was seized with one of his 
 most distressing attacks. Mr. Pufton and Arthur Byng were 
 there, the father being absent. While the young gentleman 
 hurried off in search of a physician, Mr. Pufton went up to 
 watch with his favorite. The convulsions came on with 
 increased violence, one after the other, scarcely giving the 
 sufferer a moment's rest between. The usual restoratives 
 seemed to fail entirely of effect. Arthur Byng returned with 
 the intelligence that their physician was away, and that he 
 could not ascertain how soon he -might be at liberty. The 
 peculiar excitement always produced in a family by diseases 
 of that nature fastening upon one of their number was rising 
 to the highest pitch. 
 
 ' I'm sure he'll never come out of this one !" cried Alice, 
 wringing her hands. "Do see, oh see, he's dying, he is 
 dying !" and she grasped her mother's arm convulsively. 
 " My dear," said her mother, who although every nerve was 
 quivering, kept down by a strong effort all appearance of 
 terror, " my dear, he is in God's hand. This is the way he has 
 been before ; we will hope for the best." 
 
 The sister, excitable to an excessive degree, and ardently 
 attached to her brother, was unable to repress her alarm, and 
 Kate, seeing that such apparent anxiety was improper in a 
 sick-room, persuaded her to descend to the parlor with her, 
 and used all her efforts to detain her. 
 
 At the end of an hour Clarence seemed no better, and his 
 mother, hopeful as she was, began to believe that he would
 
 206 KATE *WESTON. 
 
 never recover from his frightful paroxysms. But aid was at 
 hand. Mr. Pufton left Arthur Byng for a few minutes beside 
 the bed, and returned with a glass of brandy-and-water, to 
 the administration of which the mother offered no objection. 
 Contrary to their expectations, it produced immediately a 
 most favorable result. After he had taken it, there was no 
 return of the fits, and on recovering his consciousness, be felt 
 better then usual at such periods. After that, whenever the 
 symptoms of his disease began to manifest themselves, the 
 same mixture was prepared for him. For several weeks it 
 proved so effectual as a preventive, that his parents began to 
 cherish a hope of his ultimate recovery. This, however, was 
 not to be, for although some time elapsed before the return 
 of the convulsions, they did return, at first lightly, then gradu- 
 ally increasing in power, until they were far more violent and 
 unmanageable than ever. 
 
 Something at this time, began to trouble Kate "Weston 
 more than any one imagined. Like a shadow slowly con- 
 densing into form and substance came the doubt of Edward's 
 safety from the slavery of wine. Many times she had seen 
 an unnatural lustre in his eye, and an unnatural flush upon 
 his cheek that sent a thrill of something between pain and 
 admiration to her heart. She had heard and seen from 
 infancy total abstinence advocated by her father, as the only 
 safeguard against an enemy that almost every-one took 
 cordially to their homes, and welcomed to their social gather- 
 ings as the life of their entertainments. She, therefore, 
 looked upon the fir&t incursion of the foe with a more jealous 
 eye then almost any young lady of her acquaintance. At 
 length she resolved, with much reluctance, to broach the sub- 
 ject to her lover, feeling that no false delicacy should deter 
 her from speaking of that in which so much of his future 
 was involved. 
 
 One clear frosty morning they started out for a sleigh-ride. 
 Alice was to have accompanied them, but a violent toothache
 
 KATE WESTON. 207 
 
 had prevented. Kate resolved, as she sprang into the sleigh, 
 that she would not let the opportunity pass for which she had 
 so long been desiring. There had been on the previous day 
 a heavy fall of snow, and as they left the crowded streets of 
 the city behind, and the light, vehicle glided fleetly along over 
 the well-tracked road, that keen sense of enjoyment peculiar 
 to the young and hopeful thrilled in their hearts, and sparkled 
 in their faces. 
 
 "This is just the weather for me," said Edward, as the wind 
 blew the short curls from his face, "clear and bracing. I 
 feel like a different being on such a day. Don't you think it 
 delightful, Kate ?" 
 
 " I do enjoy it extremely," said Kate. " No amusement of 
 which I am so fond as riding, either on horseback in summer, 
 or sleighing in winter. It is very invigorating." 
 
 " I should think so," remarked her companion, " from the 
 looks of your cheeks. Kate, my dear, you grow handsomer 
 every day." 
 
 " You are very abrupt in your compliments," laughed 
 Kate. " You haven't the least fear of spoiling me, I see. 
 However, my mother used to tell me, when I was a little girl, 
 ' handsome is that handsome does.' So I must bear it in mind 
 now, and not allow you to change your opinion when you 
 know me better." 
 
 " Know you better," cried Edward, " that I shall never do ; 
 I know you are the best, dearest " 
 
 " There now," interrupted Kate, blushing, " so I am, I don't 
 deny it ; only spare my blushes, but wait three or four years. 
 I don't think you know me yet. If we could drop in and 
 take a peep at home now. Do you know I'm beginning to be 
 homesick ?" 
 
 " When I'm here, Kate ? Well, that's too bad. I had con- 
 ceit enough to imagine myself a sufficient attraction to divert 
 your thoughts, but alas, I find myself mistaken." 
 
 " Never mind, Edward. I've no doubt you have something
 
 208 KATE WESTON. 
 
 to do with reconciling me to the prospect of remaining in 
 the city until spring. You must remember, I was never away 
 from home so long before. I'm only half-fledged, you know." 
 
 There was a long silence after this, broken only by the 
 tinkling of the bells, and the hum of the city dying in the 
 distance. At length Kate looked up at her companion, who 
 was mechanically holding the reins, and buried in a brown 
 study. Sho had been revolving in her mind the manner in 
 which she should mention her fears, and over and over again 
 as the words were quivering right at the end of her tongue, 
 her heart failed her before they were uttered. As she looked 
 up her eye met his, and she asked involuntarily, " What are 
 you thinking of, Edward ?" 
 
 She had no sooner spoken, than she was sorry she had not 
 said what she intended ; " perhaps," she thought, " I shall 
 have no other chance, but it's too late now." 
 
 " Your remark," answered Edward, " started a train of 
 thought, that went running away into the far future. Sup- 
 pose circumstances should require it, do you think you could 
 leave father and mother and go with me wherever my lot 
 were cast ?" 
 
 The question was seriously asked, and as seriously answered. 
 
 " Well Edward, if circumstances required it, that is, if it 
 could not be avoided, I would. But I can conceive of no pos- 
 sible circumstances that would require us to leave them in 
 their old age. You surely think so too." 
 
 " Yes," said Edward musingly, " and yet we know not what 
 lies before us. Some day we may do as so many others have 
 done, leave the home of our childhood never to return." 
 
 " I don't see what should put that into your head," said his 
 companion. " I'm sure there's not the slightest prospect of any 
 such departure now, and there's no use puzzling our brains 
 about what we might do in all sorts of improbable posi- 
 tions." 
 
 " Oh no," replied Edward quickly, " I did not intend that.
 
 KATE WESTON. 209 
 
 It was a mere flitting thought ; you asked for it ; and I gave 
 it you." 
 
 " Wait a few years, Edward," she answered smiling. " I 
 tell you, you do not know me yet. I don't know myself. 
 Time will prove us both, but not in the way to which you 
 allude." 
 
 " But Time," he answered, " opens up a great many avenues 
 that we don't dream of till they lie directly before us." 
 
 Here Kate's thoughts flew back to the point they had left 
 when they commenced the conversation. 
 
 " There is one avenue that opens to a great many," said 
 she, making a sudden resolve to speak at all hazards. 
 
 " What is that ?" asked Edward. 
 
 " An avenue leading to ruin and death," she coniJinued, 
 with a faltering voice. 
 
 The young man looked surprised. " What do you mean, 
 Kate ? I don't understand you." 
 
 " Edward, you must not be offended," she cried earnestly ; 
 " you know how fearful I am of indulgence in wine. I wish 
 you would never drink it." 
 
 Edward laughed outright. " Bless you, Katie dear, you 
 surely are not afraid of me. I thought you had a higher 
 opinion of my judgment and firmness than to imagine I was 
 in danger." 
 
 The laugh sounded very sorrowful to the young girl. She 
 would rather have heard anything than that. She expected 
 he would feel hurt, perhaps a little angry, but she read a 
 sadder page in the careless laugh than either. It told her 
 that he saw no danger in the sparkling cup ; it told her that 
 he thought of indulgence in the beverage as too harmless to 
 be relinquished. It told her that he had no sympathy with 
 her fears, no knowledge of her former sorrow, when she had 
 seen him deeply under its influence. Her heart sank withir 
 her, but she was determined not to give it up without one 
 effort.
 
 210 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Edward, you don't see this as I do. You do not feel that 
 the danger is to be apprehended by you. Well, don't look 
 at yourself; look at all the victims of intemperance that you 
 have ever known, and see if they were not all temperate 
 young men, taking to themselves the same gratulations on 
 their self-control, and drawn blindfold into the snare that 
 finally proved their ruin." 
 
 " Yes, Kate," rejoined her companion readily, " I know it is 
 so, but on the other hand, how many indulge moderately all 
 their lives, and never become inebriates. AVhy, you won't 
 find one man in half a dozen that never touches wine, and 
 when you take that into consideration, you will see that a very 
 small proportion of wine-drinkers ever become drunkards." 
 
 " It seems to me," said Kate, " a very melancholy fact that 
 so many are wine-drinkers. I have often wondered that there 
 is no law to hinder such a free use of liquor of all kinds." 
 
 " Why, there is : the license law, you know," suggested 
 Edward. 
 
 " I don't know much about that, to be sure," said Kate, 
 " but I could never see any good resulting from it. But, Ed- 
 ward, this is what I wanted to say to you. I believe that the 
 yielding up of yourself to the influence of drink is owing 
 very frequently to a constitutional tendency, rather than to 
 any criminal recklessness of doing evil. The very best char- 
 acters in the world are sometimes led into this snare. Many 
 times those who, but for that, would have made public bene- 
 factors and celebrated men, are drawn so slowly, so surely 
 down to utter ruin that they seem to have no power or will 
 that is not subservient to this resistless tendency. That is 
 where the great evil seems to lie. If it were not in their 
 power now " 
 
 " Oh, Kate," interrupted Edward, '-' you are too charitable- 
 If a man becomes a drunkard, it's his own fault, and he has 
 nobody to blame but himself. It's absurd to talk of taking 
 it out of his power, that never could be done."
 
 KATE WESTON. 211 
 
 Kate heaved a sigh. She was young, but her judgment 
 was of no common order, and upon this subject she was fixed 
 as a rock. Her intuitive delicacy of perception had taught 
 her how perilous to the excitable temperament of Edward 
 was the first yielding to his taste for wine, and she had hoped 
 to convince him of the necessity of her fears. But she found 
 a poor foundation upon which to build her arguments. It 
 was evident that he regarded every man criminal who yielded 
 repeatedly to a debased appetite, and plumed himself upon 
 his upright principles as a safeguard from temptation. She 
 looked forward through long coming years upon what might 
 fall upon his head, so noble, so generous, so aspiring. She 
 saw in the chief charm of his character the very point, that 
 unshielded by religion, was most vulnerable to the shaft of the 
 enemy. Confident as he was, she knew that his eyes were 
 darkened to the peril, and her inner spirit cowered at thought 
 of the possible future. 
 
 " I wish then, Edward," she said, lifting her gentle, plead- 
 ing eyes to his face, " I wish you would abstain from it for 
 my sake, because it makes me uneasy, if you're not afraid 
 yourself." 
 
 Edward looked quite amused as he answered, " You beg so 
 charmingly, Kate, that if you had asked almost anything 
 else, I could not possibly have refused you. But for you to 
 imagine that I have no more sense than that it's quite a 
 death-blow to my pride, I can assure you. Why, you abso- 
 lutely force me to keep on taking wine for the sake of show- 
 ing you that I'm not the simpleton you take me for. Then 
 besides, what would people think, Katie ? I should be the 
 laughing-stock of half the world." 
 
 "Then half the world has either no heart or no judgment," 
 said Kate, a little bitterly for her, " I wish you could look 
 through my glasses at this matter. It seems so different 
 to me." 
 
 "But your glasses wouldn't fit my eyes," said Edward,
 
 212 KATE WE8TON. 
 
 laughing. " You are prejudiced, just as father is. But he 
 never had any fear of me" 
 
 " Only because he doesn't know you use it," said Kate. " He 
 thinks of the peril in the abstract ; I, _ true woman fashion, 
 look no further than home. Man's sympathies are apt to 
 scatter abroad, woman's to centre to one focus. It is there 
 the difference lies. 
 
 " Oh well !" cried Edward, touching up the horses with his 
 whip, " it's no use our quarrelling all the way. Just wait a 
 while, and I'll show you. In a couple of weeks I take my 
 diploma, and I'll make the man yet that will astonish you. 
 With the incentive 1 have to labor," he added with a loving 
 glance at Kate, " I ought to succeed at anything." 
 
 So the debate was given up, forgotten on Edward's part, as 
 soon as the words were spoken, but abiding in Kate's memory, 
 with a sorrowful shadow, long after the fruitless effort to 
 avert the peril had been made by her on that sunny winter's 
 morning. 
 
 Kate was right in saying that Edward did not know her. 
 Much as she loved him, there was many a leaf in her heart 
 folded from his gaze. Not because she had anything to con- 
 ceal, but because a deep sensitiveness in her nature, like that 
 of the mimosa, shrank instinctively from the gentlest touch. 
 She was chary of alluding to herself in any way whatever. 
 Of her faults she might sometimes speak readily enough, of 
 her virtues never. None but her mother knew to the full, 
 what power was in that girlish heart of love and suffering ; 
 how, through long future years, let joy or sorrow walk beside 
 her, she would be still the same, gentle, hopeful, trusting ; 
 matured, perhaps by trial, but 'more matured then through 
 unbroken pleasure. The heart out of which hers had grown, 
 catching each delicate shade of Christian gentleness, drinking 
 into its finest tissues the life whose germ alone is in this 
 W9rld, the life that bursts forth in full perfection only in the 
 sun and air of Heaven, that heart alone read every thought
 
 KATE WESTON. 213 
 
 and purpose of the youthful kindred heart throbbing with 
 her own, mingling as the fragrance of two flowers, or the 
 melody of two -harps in perfect tune. 
 
 The following is the last letter written to Mrs. Weston 
 previous to her daughter's return in the spring. Feelings 
 hopes and fears, joy and sorrow, are betrayed as much by the 
 glance or tone as by words themselves. These we cannot see, 
 therefore we have recourse to the most authentic source for 
 taking a peep into the inner soul of one whose noblest 
 virtues and most lamented faults were known to her mother 
 alone. 
 
 "DEAR DEAR MOTHER, 
 
 Two weeks more and I shall be with- you. You know not how 
 the time lengthens as that happy day draws near. Each day seems 
 made up of hours that might be days, so eagerly do I long to be at 
 home. Upon the whole, the winter has been a very pleasant one. So 
 much has been done for my happiness, that I should have been very 
 ungrateful not to be happy. I should not wonder if you found me 
 quite spoiled after receiving so much attention and flattery as has 
 fallen to my share since I have been here. But, after all, mother, 
 there is no food for tjjp heart in this. I would give more for one of 
 your encouraging words or smiles than for the admiration of all the 
 flippant pleasure seekers in New York. I do not see how Alice, with 
 her keen perception of good and evil, can be so fond of New York 
 society ; that is the society in which she moves. It must be owing to 
 her having been brought up in its midst, and to her natural vivacity 
 of temper, which finds, more easily there than anywhere else, a con- 
 stant field for its exercise. She is, I think, one of the most amiable 
 and attractive girls I ever met. and the more I am associated with 
 her, the more do I see beneath the sparkling su rface of her wit, that 
 which is lovable and true. 
 
 " I should not be very much surprised if there were a double wed- 
 ding here when Alice is married. It has always been a mystery to 
 me that Mrs. Maylie should refuse Mr. Pufton so repeatedly, when I 
 know that she admired, and even loved him, spite of his eccentrici- 
 ties, or rather for the sterling qualities that cause them. The other 
 day I obtained a slight clue to her reasons, and I believe if that 
 objection were removed, she would accept him still. Arthur Byng
 
 214 KATE WESTON. 
 
 had been discussing with us (Mrs. Maylie, Alice, and myself), the 
 various channels into which it seemed advisable to throw his cap- 
 ital and energies, when with a halt' smile he remarked, " Well, what 
 do you think, Mr. Pufton has been using every means in his power to 
 persuade me to buy out Mr. Dunn's establishment for the importa- 
 tion of foreign liquors. He says it would be the best investment I 
 could make.' 
 
 " Never do that !' ejaculated Mrs. Maylie, with more emphasis 
 than her self-possession generally allows her to make. The words 
 were so emphatic that every one of us instinctively looked up into her 
 face, and mother, she blushed Mrs. Maylie actually blushed. Alice, 
 in her usual bantering manner exclaimed, ' Why auntie, you are turn- 
 ing into an apostle of the Washingtonians ; I didn't know you were 
 so earnest on that subject.' Her aunt had by this time recovered 
 herself, and said calmly, ' Their opinions have always been mine 
 upon the subject, but you know I seldom express my opinions very 
 freely.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! ah, auntie,' answered Alice with one of her roguish winks, 
 ' perhaps, if you would, you might do some good in a certain quarter. 
 You ought to do all the good in your power.' 
 
 "'Perhaps so,' answered Mrs. Maylie. 'But the truth is.' here 
 she stopped, and shook her head without telling us what the truth 
 was, and although Alice has been teazing her ever since to finish the 
 sentence, she only smiles and shakes her head as before. Alice said 
 to me the other day, quite in earnest, ' Kate, Ideally have a mind to 
 tell Mr. Pufton what Aunt Sophy said the other night. He'd retire 
 from business in a minute on the strength of it ; and I really believe 
 she'd marry him at last. I've heard those that know say, that she 
 loved him in the first place better than her first husband, but for some 
 unaccountable reason she refuses him now. Who knows but that's it, 
 But then why doesn't she try to influence him ? That's what puzzles 
 me. You know Aunt Maylie was never one to let her affections run 
 away with her reason.' 
 
 " I didn't tell her what I thought ; but from what I know of the 
 lady's character, the stress she places upon correct principles, 
 and the involuntary betrayal of her feelings the other evening, I 
 finished the sentence she began quite to my own satisfaction, although, 
 of course, I cannot say that it was finished correctly. It runs thus, 
 ' Perhaps so, but the truth is, I do not desire any one to give up a 
 business that I consider wrong, merely for the sake of pleasing me ; 
 if not done from his own conviction of duty, so far as I am concerned, 
 it might as well not be done at all.' If these surmises are true, I
 
 KATE WESTON. 215 
 
 think there is some probability of a double wedding, for I have 
 noticed that the dear, good-tempered little gentleman has seemed a 
 little fidgety on this subject ever since the incident I related to you, 
 in which he bore so conspicuous a part ; and if he once becomes con- 
 vinced that he's doing anybody on earth any harm by it, he'd give 
 it up without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " Clarence, poor boy, is growing quite impatient and fretful ; more, 
 I think, from the liquor administered as a preventive to the dis- 
 ease, than from the disease itself. It pains me extremely to see that 
 he has acquired a taste that I fear was easier in acquiring than it will 
 be in overcoming. Indeed, you would be surprised to see the change 
 in his character ; once the gentlest, tenderest son in the world, he 
 has become boisterous and unruly, even to his patient, devoted 
 mother. 
 
 "Sophronia Maylie, notwithstanding her approaching marriage, 
 has plunged enthusiastically into the cause of Woman's Rights. 
 
 " Now then, mother, for a word about myself. Something lately has 
 been weighing on my mind something that I cannot feel to be of 
 slight consequence something that you will not consider of slight 
 consequence Edward, my Edward, is learning to love wine. I see 
 it, I know it ; he does not see it, nor know it ; nor can I convince 
 him of it. To you alone, best, dearest mother, would I entrust my 
 fears, for to you. present or absent, my heart is ever open. 
 
 "I have conversed with him upon the subject, and he treats my 
 arguments precisely as he would if the matter under discussion were 
 a mere matter of opinion, involving no risk to himself. Notwithstand- 
 ing all I could say, he still seemed to take this unconcerned view of 
 the case ; and since then I have seen him in a condition that I should 
 call half-intoxicated, but which he would call a little exhilarated. 
 You will know how much this pains me, for you know as well as I 
 how impetuous he is, how much his generous nature compels him to 
 yield to impulse, how delightful to his buoyant spirit must be the 
 exhilaration produced by wine, and far better than I, the danger of 
 yielding to its power. 
 
 " Oh ! there is much in life to contend with. Young as I am, I 
 see a possible future of struggle and trial that no earthly wisdom 
 can avert, no earthly strength sustain. When this looms up darkly 
 before me, my soul trembles, not lest His word should fail, who says, 
 ' I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,' but lest my poor weak faith 
 should fail in resigning all, even the temporal and eternal life of 
 those I love best, into His hand. 
 
 " Sometimes in the still night, when I have been with Edward to
 
 216 . KATE WESTON. 
 
 some scene of amusement or gaiety, there steals over me a something 
 I can hardly describe a feeling as though all this artificial life were 
 too empty of g^od, too fully fraught with evil, for a follower of 
 Jesus to enter at all within its precincts. 
 
 " At small dancing parties, at concerts, or even in some of our 
 fashionable churches, Vanity Fair will come irresistibly to my mind 
 in connection with the excessive regard paid by all classes to appear- 
 ances, almost always to the destruction of that which is real and 
 earnest. 
 
 " Edward does not see this. I could hardly expect that he should. 
 In the first place he is far more fond of excitement than I ; in the 
 next, his taste has never been subdued by the simplicity of our plain, 
 unvarnished faith. There is to me more true friendship exchanged in 
 the simple ' thee and thou ' of the unassuming Fraternity, to which you 
 and Father belong, than in the whole vocabulary of polite phrases in 
 vogue among our wealthier classes. And after all. what is this world ? 
 ' Life is real. Life is earnest,' so far as OUP labors are concerned, and 
 our eternal interests influenced thereby. But when we come to look at 
 life as it is generally exhibited in this whirling city, compared to the 
 life that never ends, it is nothing. Only while jostling in the great 
 world having ' Eye-gate, Ear-gate,' and every other avenue to the soul 
 so constantly besieged by enemies to God, it is hard to keep His image 
 always before the eye of faith, shutting out the things that appeal more 
 immediately to sense, and living as children subservient always, in all 
 things, to His Almighty will. 
 
 "Mother dear. I see that I have written an unconscionable letter. 
 But to you alone I can freely speak, and I know you are never tired of 
 my talk. I love Alice dearly, but she could not understand this at all 
 and would laugh off in fun what I should say in sober earnest. Edward 
 cannot now sympathize in my deepest feelings, but I believe the time 
 is coming when he may ; only for the shadow, mother the shadow, 
 dearest mother ! 
 
 " Mrs. Ainslie, indeed, is much like you, but she is not you. We 
 shall come home, Doctor Edward Pufton Clarence and myself, one 
 week from next Monday, unless something occurs to prevent. Much 
 love to dear father. Pray for me, pray for us to be kept from the evil. 
 
 Always the same 
 
 Your own loving 
 
 KATE.
 
 KATE WESTON. 21 7 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " CAN'T see it, sir not at all, sir. My opinion, you are very 
 silly indeed, beg pardon, sir, no offence, sir. Look at my 
 warehouse, sir," and Mr. Pufton waved bis fat hand with no 
 little complacency in the direction of some hundred casks 
 of the finest liquors. " I say, look at my warehouse, sir, 
 why, I wouldn't look at $20,000 for my stock alone. And the 
 business I'm doing! bless me, it's nothing, sir, absolutely 
 nothing to ask for that concern. Why Dunn's warehouse is 
 every whit as good as mine, can't imagine why he'd be such a 
 fool as to sell for such a trifle. 
 
 " But it's heart trouble," he added, in a softened tone, " poor 
 fellow, heart trouble, don't know, bachelor's life is better than 
 that anyhow. Come now, Byng, you'll never have as good a 
 chance again." 
 
 " I cannot wonder," answered the young man, " that you 
 think me very foolish in not accepting such an offer, but it's 
 no use, none at all," and he placed his foot firmly upon the 
 floor, " if he gave it me I would not take it. You cannot 
 appreciate my motives, for you are blind to the evils which I 
 have seen and experienced." 
 
 The mercurial little old bachelor jumped out of his seat, 
 placed his hands so skillfully in the small of his back, as to 
 make his coat tails bob very decisively at every step, and 
 flustered nervously some two or three times across the floor. 
 Then he came back, and stood directly in front of his visitor, 
 exclaiming in an impatient tone, " Well the fact's just this, 
 sir, you haven't common sense, sir; never dreamt of such
 
 218 KATE WESTON. 
 
 obstinacy. Why, can't you see that somebody'll take the 
 matter in hand if you don't ? Somebody'll make a fortune 
 out of it ; just as many folks'll drink rum, just as many folks'll 
 sell it, if you don't do it. Better make the money and do 
 some good with it, that's my notion ; and he frowned quite 
 terrifically upon the willful young man." 
 
 " I cannot help it if you think so," answered Mr. Byng 
 calmly ; " I should be very sorry for it, did I not know that 
 your friendship would remain unimpaired notwithstanding my 
 obstinacy, as you are pleased to call it. But even in that case } 
 I should feel myself compelled to resist your persuasions, and 
 not only that, but to resist to the utmost of my power the use 
 and sale of intoxicating drinks as the greatest cause of suffer- 
 ing and crime that ever existed in the world." 
 
 " But your not selling it won't make any less suffering or 
 crime," answered Mr. Pufton. " No use in losing a good 
 chance, when nobody's a bit the better for it ; the fact is, sir, 
 I'm out of patience, sir ; you know I am, sir ; can't help it, 
 sir, for my life I can't." 
 
 There was a half-smile on the decided face, and a half-pang 
 in the unbending heart, as the young man answered musingly, 
 " And yet I know of those whose best hopes have been 
 wrecked in trusting to that very argument. It's a mournful 
 tone to me, that ' no one'll be the worse for it.' However," he 
 added, in a louder tone, " I ought to explain : the point lies 
 here, Mr. Pufton, with me, at least. If I were sure that no 
 one would be at all influenced by my conduct in this matter^ 
 I should act precisely the same. I think it wrong to sell 
 liquor at all, and for that reason, although I stood single- 
 handed against the world, I would carry out my sentiments 
 in both practice and theory." 
 
 " Well, well, suppose I must take it easy, though if it were 
 only for the sake of your bewitching little sweetheart, should 
 have been glad to see you master of such a capital business," 
 said Mr. Pufton, relapsing into his usual good-humored manner.
 
 KATE WESTON. 219 
 
 " I think," rejoined the young man smiling, " and she 
 thinks that her interests will be promoted to a far greater 
 degree by my refusal than acceptance of such an offer." 
 
 " There's Edward Clarence, my namesake now," said his 
 companion, " he'd have been worth a pretty little fortune for 
 a beginning, at any rate, before this time, but his opinionated 
 father just put a veto on it at once. He's my boy, is Edward, 
 sir. I'd have done handsomely by him, sir. He isn't a fool, 
 either ; it wasn't his doing, refusing to come in with me. 
 He's good enough to satisfy anybody. If he would do it, 
 you needn't quibble about the right and wrong of such a 
 little matter. Didn't expect it of you, sir, indeed I didn't, sir." 
 
 Arthur Byng saw that his bachelor friend was getting 
 provoked again, and remarked quietly, " You know there 
 must be differences in character and opinions ; there are no 
 doubt many things that I do, which he would not engage in. 
 He would not view this subject in the same light as myself. 
 I could see that at a glance ; he is too impulsive and unsuspi- 
 cious." 
 
 " Bless the boy, he's got a warm heart, sir, no, not a warm 
 heart, but a boiling heart, sir, boiling all over with love and 
 good nature. How he did hold on to poor Ryker's family till 
 he saw them safe out of trouble and danger ; never saw any 
 body like him, sir." 
 
 " Better if they had been kept out of trouble and danger," 
 said the young man with a slight, but peculiar emphasis in 
 his voice. Upon this, Mr. Pufton, still keeping his hands 
 behind him, balanced himself alternately upon heels and toes, 
 threw his round head back so as to command an unobstructed 
 view of the ceiling, and stood gazing thereat, as though 
 drinking inspiration from the view. His companion looked 
 at him in silence, but a grave expression of inquiry rested on 
 his features as he watched the artless little gentleman so 
 intently eying the wall. 
 
 Through the older head were flitting sundry thought-
 
 220 KATE WESTON. 
 
 less expressions that had escaped him when the dead baby 
 and its wretched mother roused such a tempest in his 
 heart. " "What a wretch you are now, Pufton ! "Who first 
 taught poor Kyker to drink, I wonder ? You did it Pufton, 
 you are the one ought to be hanged, you know you are !" 
 4fter that, a sweet baby face, with half-closed eyes, and a 
 large one, all swollen and discolored, glanced reproachfully 
 at him ; then came the remembrance of reform, peace and 
 comfort, the unuttered thought, " no need of it all let every 
 body take care of oneself," and with an energetic puff, intended 
 to dispel at once all disturbing fancies, Mr. Pufton brought 
 his head, hands, and feet into a respectable position, and 
 looked over again at his visitor. 
 
 To him the action of his companion had suggested a sud- 
 den thought. " There are reproaches of conscience there ; 
 how transparent are his actions ; how warm-hearted he is. I 
 might do him good by relating how can I ?" Then came 
 a dark vision floating before him, and when his eyes met 
 those of his friend, there was an expression more than 
 grave, more than sorrowful, gleaming from their depths. 
 
 "What is the matter, Byng?" exclaimed Mr. Pufton, his 
 thoughts flying off at a tangent from the widow and her 
 children. "You couldn't look worse if you'd been to the 
 funeral of your own mother." 
 
 The expression deepened in intensity as he answered in a 
 subdued tone, " It is there that I have been ; it is to that my 
 thoughts were wandering ; our remarks had called up scenes 
 long since transacted. I will tell you something that I have 
 never told, even to my nearest friend." 
 
 Mr. Pufton looked surprised, but seated himself without a 
 word in his easy-chair, and laid his head on one side in a 
 most attentive attitude, while the young man, clearing his 
 voice, and leaning forward, commenced his story. " When 
 I was very young, my father died. Mother had two children, 
 my sister Mary and myself. My sister was several years
 
 KATE WESTON. 221 
 
 older than I. We almost worshiped her, she was so good, so 
 gentle, so beautiful. I think mother loved her best, but I nevei 
 thought anything of that. I thought she ought to be loved 
 more. She seemed to forget herself always when those she 
 loved were in trouble. I remember when I was a mere baby, 
 she would lay aside her book to tell me a simple story, or sing 
 some childish song. She had a sweet voice, and she and 
 mother always sang together from the earliest period I can 
 
 remember, until Well, I shall pass over all the period of 
 
 her childhood, and begin again with her history when sister 
 Mary was seventeen. We lived in a pleasant cottage in a 
 New England village, and only those who have been through 
 New England can know how pleasant such a home can be. 
 
 " Mother, our gentle, loving mother, devoted her time to our 
 education and improvement. Mary more than repaid her for 
 the pains she took in bestowing upon her both the useful and 
 ornamental acquirements necessary to a first-class education. 
 I believe she was not called handsome, that is, not very hand- 
 some, although to my memory she seems a being of surpas- 
 sing beauty ; but every one accorded to her the palm of true 
 womanly gentleness, and unrivalled genius. That sister," 
 said the young man earnestly, " had her lot been cast in other 
 places, or her earnest soul been fixed upon a higher love than 
 the changing ones of earth, would have been a star in the 
 night of life's wretchedness and guilt, guiding many through 
 the darkness, to a land where there is need of neither sun nor 
 moon, nor star to shine in it, where the glory of God doth 
 lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. 
 
 " When Mary was seventeen, Lester Morris first visited our 
 village. Young Morris was partner in a wholesale business 
 in New York, not talented, but a man of fascinating manners 
 and unexceptionable morals. 
 
 " The day that Mary was married was a very sorrowful one 
 to me. Never brother loved sister more than I, and never 
 was sister worthier of love than my darling Mary. It seemed
 
 222 KATE WESTON. 
 
 to me as though her going to New York, and our staying in 
 New England, was the bursting asunder of my very heartstrings. 
 She tried to make me cheerful, and, although I cried the 
 whole evening of the wedding, succeeded before she left in 
 restoring me to quite a tolerable degree of comfort, by giving 
 me the private information that she intended to make mother 
 bring me on with her to stay at least a month, before the 
 year was out. After she left, mother and I were drawn closer 
 together. I think I must have been unlike other boys, for I 
 never can recollect the time when it was not a greater plea- 
 sure to me to spend a quiet evening with my mother and 
 sister, than to go off skating on the pond, or joining my 
 boyish associates in their evening rambles. 
 
 " Then I was twelve years old, and then it was that the 
 glorious plan of redemption through Jesus was unfolded to 
 my spirit Then it was that I first found the Rock upon 
 which my foot stands firm, that neither storm nor tide can 
 beat away. 
 
 " I have always wondered that my sister's loving heart -was 
 not drawn towards that faith that seemed to me so congenial 
 to her taste and temper. I think she would ultimately have 
 become a follower of Jesus had she never removed from our 
 village, but I suppose her impressible nature was so easily and 
 completely assimilated to those by whom she was immedi- 
 ately surrounded, that her earlier teachings were either 
 entirely obliterated, or remembered as a dream in after years 
 of temptation and misery. For three or four years mother 
 and myself came to spend a month at Christmas with her. 
 She was very happy then. Two lovely children and an affec- 
 tionate, whole-hearted husband were sufficient treasures for 
 her. 
 
 " Lester Morris failed in business about three years after their 
 marriage, but they took it to heart less than any one I ever 
 saw. Mary chirruped just as gaily, and stepped just as lightly 
 in the humbler home to which they quietly retired, as in the
 
 KATE WESTON. 223 
 
 more luxurious one of their days of affluence, and Lester 
 seemed too much delighted in the possession of such a wife 
 and children, to let money make or break his happiness. 
 
 " At last mother was not able to leave home any more, and 
 Mary used to come to visit her. The first time her husband 
 was with her ; the next she told us that his business was too 
 pressing to allow him to leave it ; but there was something 
 in her manners that struck me as singular. Her cheek was 
 paler and thinner than I had ever seen it before. She would 
 sit sometimes, when she didn't know I was watching her, gaz- 
 ing abstractedly into the fire, without paying the slightest 
 attention to the children playing beside her ; and once when 
 I had gone up to her room to see if little Arthur were asleep, 
 she entered in the dark, threw herself upon the bed, and 
 burst into tears. I spoke to her, begging her to tell me her 
 sorrow that I might sympathize with her, but she said she 
 was not well, she would soon be better, that I must not worry 
 mother by telling her, she was too weak to bear it. So it went 
 on until she left us. 
 
 "The next year she did not come; she was too much 
 engaged, she said; 'Lester had failed again, and they must 
 move into a still smaller place. He had not been well lately. 
 Arthur, too, was quite miserable, but she was hoping they 
 would all be better soon.' 
 
 "Soon after that, we had a letter saying that Arthur's 
 illness had terminated in consumption, which, the previous 
 week had lain him in the grave. 
 
 "Not quite three weeks passed, during which we had received 
 no word from Mary, when mother and I were seated one 
 afternoon upon the little bench before our cottage door. She 
 was very feeble now, so that she was unable to walk further 
 than to the end of our small garden, and it was one of her 
 greatest pleasures to sit on that rustic bench, amid the fra- 
 grance of her flowers, and talk to me of those things nearest 
 her heart Mary and Heaven. Dear mother ! when she was
 
 224 KATE WESTON. 
 
 dying she said to me in tones broken with the feebleness of 
 her last breathings. ' Arthur, never make an earthly idol. I 
 have always thought of Mary and Heaven, -when I should 
 have thought of Heaven and Mary.' " Here the narrator broke 
 quite down, the tears rushing into his eyes, and his voice chok- 
 ing with emotion. Mr. Pufton had remained surprised for 
 some time, but now he had forgotten his surprise in the 
 interest of the story. 
 
 " As I told you," he commenced at length, " we were sitting 
 before our door on a pleasant summer afternoon, when Mr. 
 Wood, the principal merchant of our village, entered the gate. 
 He was a thoughtless man, although by no means hard-hearted. 
 We knew that he had been to New York for his fall supply 
 of goods, but did not suppose that 'he had seen Mary. I 
 rose to welcome him, and noticed that his countenance wore 
 an expression of pity and sorrow that quite puzzled me. He 
 returned my salutation, and passed on to mother, saying, " I 
 took the opportunity of calling, dear Mrs. Leslie, to offer you 
 my warmest sympathy in your great affliction. If anything I 
 can do, by way of settling your daughter's affairs, will be of 
 any service to you, I shall esteem it a sacred pleasure to be 
 always at your service.' 
 
 " Mother sat for one minute looking at him, as though she 
 did not quite understand his words. Then suddenly clenching 
 the arm of her chair, she cried, under her breath ' Affliction ? 
 My daughter's affairs ? What has happened ? tell me !' 
 
 " Mr. Wood looked surprised and alarmed. I saw that he 
 was sorry for what he had said, but there was now no alterna- 
 tive for him but to proceed. ' Is it possible,' he said ner- 
 vously, ' that you have not heard from Mrs. Morris during the 
 last two weeks ?' Mother did not answer him, only kept her 
 eyes fixed on his face, while her lips moved with hardly a 
 sound, ' tell me.' ' You know that after Morris's last failure he 
 opened a porter-house in the city in partnership with a man by 
 the name of Gamp. One night about two weeks ago, they
 
 KATE WESTON. 225 
 
 
 
 had some disagreement or other which terminated in Gamp's 
 stabbing him with a bowie-knife.' The gentleman stopped 
 speaking, for he saw mother's eyes dilate, and her face turn 
 ashy pale. It was all new to her. Lester Morris keeping a 
 porter-house ! Her daughter a widow ! 
 
 "I afterwards learned from Mr. Wood the particulars relating 
 to the course of Lester Morris for the year before his death. 
 The cause of his last failure had been carefully concealed from 
 us by his devoted wife, who had kept hoping for his reform up 
 to the day of his death. He had always indulged in wine, as 
 all of us did then, indeed, and at last the taste he had acquired 
 proved too strong for him. His frequent intoxication had ren- 
 dered him neglectful of business, he had failed, and taking 
 Mary's little property, had been induced, in a fit of intoxica- 
 tion, to sign the articles of copartnership with a man whom 
 he both despised and hated. By this means his murderer 
 had succeeded in investing all that remained to them in his 
 detestable business, and through his canning and artifice, 
 Mary never received any afterwards. 
 
 " When my mother had recovered from the first shock of 
 those sorrowful tidings, she dispatched me immediately to 
 New York. Feeble as she was, she would have accompanied 
 me, had not the family physician laid a decided veto upon any 
 such proceeding. I found Mary very ill of a fever, in the care 
 of strangers in a condition of life far below her own. As soon 
 as she was able, she started with me for home, taking with her 
 her little Margaret, and traveling slowly on account of her 
 health. For a time she found rest in a mother's bosom, and 
 grew less pale and sorrowful. Would that she had always 
 been content to depend upon her scanty fortune, rather than 
 to leave her side. But in two or three months, a letter came 
 from the city offering her a situation as teacher in an excellent 
 school, which she at length accepted, not without many tears 
 and struggles, but still she could not bear the thought of 
 depriving us of the comforts to which we had always been
 
 226 KATE WESTON. 
 
 * 
 
 accustomed. I knew that by constant application, I could, in 
 a year or t;v r o, render myself capable of earning enough to 
 make it unnecessary for her to leave home, and looked for- 
 ward joyfully to the time when she should return to us. 
 
 " But she never came again ! For a year we heard from her 
 regularly; then her letters began to be fewer and briefer. 
 She was intending to give up her situation, and take that of 
 governess in the family of a widower who had only one child. 
 It was an easy situation, and she had known the gentleman, 
 whose name she omitted to mention, slightly for many years. 
 After that it was a long time before we heard from her again, 
 . so long, that I was about starting to New York in search of 
 her, when we received another letter ; shall I ever forget that 
 letter ? that in less than a month brought my mother to the 
 grave. It told us never to think of her again ; to look upon 
 her as dead ; to blot her image from our memory. She had 
 been betrayed by a mock marriage, ruined by one whom she 
 had trusted, and had resolved never to bring her shame upon 
 us. She would take means to have her child placed in mother's 
 care ; she knew her mother would not refuse her that ; for her- 
 self, she asked nothing but forgiveness and oblivion. We 
 must not seek her ; she was hidden where it would be utterly 
 impossible for us to find her, only take Maggie and forget her ! 
 as though we could forget ! 
 
 " Notwithstanding her warning, I was dispatched imme- 
 diately in search of her, commissioned by a weeping mother 
 to bring her back to the shelter of a mother's tenderness 
 before further injury had come upon her. My mother did not 
 look upon the evil that had befallen her with the eye of a 
 worldly person. She saw in it only a misfortune which must 
 only increase her love, not steel her heart against one who 
 had been deceived into a state contemned by the world, no mat- 
 ter by what means procured, or what suffering it might pro- 
 duce. But I could not find her, nor obtain any. clue to her 
 whatever. After three weeks spent in useless labor, I re-
 
 KATE WESTON. 227 
 
 turned to see my mother die, and receive her parting 
 blessing. 
 
 " Since then I have striven in vain to find her. At one 
 time . I succeeded in discovering that she was still living, 
 but soon after I ascertained that she had sailed for Australia, 
 and gave up the search with deep sorrow of heart. If 
 mother had lived, I believe it would have been impossible for 
 her to keep her resolution of never again seeing her, for the 
 time must have come when she would have forgotten all 
 pride and fear, and flown to one whom, she knew nothing on 
 earth could wean from her. I always thought she must have 
 heard of mother's death, because she never sent Maggie to us, 
 as she had proposed. 
 
 " You will not be surprised at my determination on this point 
 when I tell you that I believe the death of my sister's husband, 
 my sister's ruin, and my mother's death, were caused solely by 
 intoxicating drinks. I believe that any man who sells liquor 
 is virtually sending crowds annually to ruin and death, whose 
 number is proportioned to the extent of his business." 
 
 " Bless my heart, sir," cried Mr. Pufton, rubbing his eyes 
 with his coat-sleeve, " I'd give it up in a minute, sir, if every- 
 body else would, but, the trouble is, other folks won't give it 
 up, sir ; and folks will have it, sir ; what odds, sir, whether 
 they get it, sir, from Tom, Dick, or Harry, sir, or from Edward 
 Pufton, Esq., sir, who wouldn't mind at all throwing away all 
 his stock, sir, if that would knock up all the rum-drinking, sir ; 
 not a bit, sir ; 'pon my word, not a bit, sir." 
 
 "Well," remarked his young companion, glancing at his 
 watch, " I have an engagement at eight o'clock ; I think you 
 said you were going as far as Broadway and Canal street. 
 Will you accompany me ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir delighted sir detest walking alone abom- 
 inably, sir. Patrick !" A short, sleepy-looking Irishman 
 made his appearance from some invisible corner, and Mr. 
 Pufton, after leaving directions as to closing the store, and
 
 228 KATE WESTON. 
 
 stumping about at a terribe rate for some five minutes, patted 
 his liat upon his head, and made for the door, saying as he 
 looted complacently behind him, " All right, sir, quite right, 
 sir. Everything in order, sir." 
 
 "I think," remarked young Byng, as soon as they had 
 gained the street, " you said you would give up the business if 
 every one else would do the same ?" 
 
 " To be sure, I would, sir. Mighty glad too, sir." 
 
 " If all the rumsellers in the city sell poison, is that a rea- 
 son why you should do it too ?" 
 
 Mr. Pufton did not answer this question, but it evidently 
 was a somewhat different view of the matter from any that 
 he had yet taken, for he cocked his head first on one side, 
 then on the other, looking very intensely at the gas-lights, 
 and ahem-ing to himself for the space of two or three blocks, 
 without being at all noticed by his companion. 
 
 The night was dark, and their way lay through an unplea- 
 sant section of the city. As they turned the corner of Centre 
 street, a female figure, wretchedly attired, passed them. "What 
 a dismal frown that always wears," said joung Byng, pointing 
 to the dreary city prison looming up a block or two before 
 them. As he spoke, the figure which had just passed them, 
 turned quickly round, and stood for an instant motionless, 
 then, with a noiseless tread, followed close behind them, so 
 near that every word they said was audible to their pursuer. 
 The figure was enveloped in a large, faded cloak ; the face, as 
 she turned to look at the two gentlemen, for an instant caught 
 the rays of light, that should have faded out in shining upon 
 a face so haggard and wretched. But as she turned, she drew 
 down a thick vail that concealed her from idle scrutiny. So 
 they passed on, the man buoyant with youth and hope, for a 
 moment saddened by bitter memories the man wealthy, 
 warm-hearted, but unthinking, striving to reconcile awakened 
 conscience to a lawful evil the woman with unsteady step, 
 and hidden features, thinking but who may read that heart
 
 RATE WESTON. 229 
 
 of hearts ? who may tell what whirlwinds of feeling might be 
 sweeping across the bleak desert of that shrouded woman's 
 soul ? who amid the foul darkness lying all along that wretched 
 life, might see with her the sunlight and flowers of a youth of 
 purity ? who amid the clamor of fierce remorse and dissonant 
 passion battling in that guilty breast, could hear with her the 
 blessings and the prayers whose distant music was for ever 
 floating to her ear, making only sadder the knell of her des- 
 pair? 
 
 They passed on into the shadow of the prison, the woman 
 listening intently to their conversation." 
 
 " No, sir," said Mr. Pufton, " after what you have told me, 
 I certainly can't blame you for not entering the business, and, 
 fact is, sir, I've a rnind to give up myself. So I have, sir. 
 Had a mind to, the day I saw Ryker's wife and child, sir. 
 Don't know though, if it'd do a bit o' good, that's the worst 
 of it, sir." 
 
 " Suppose half the liquor-dealers in the city closed up busi- 
 ness, do you suppose there'd be as many drunkards as there 
 are ?" asked Byng quietly. 
 
 " Well, no sir. By no means, sir. Can't say I think so, 
 sir. See exactly what you want to say, sir. Needn't say it. 
 I understand, sir. You put the question in such a queer way, 
 Bless me, sir, I see, I see !" And Mr. Pufton threw back his 
 head and rubbed his hands together, as though it quite aston- 
 ished him that he did see. " Believe I will give up now, sir, 
 Do believe I will." 
 
 " I can assure you," answered the young man, in a tone full 
 of feeling, " I can assure you that it would give me far more 
 pleasure to see you resign the business entirely, than it would 
 give you to see me making $10,000 a year in Mr. Dunn's 
 warehouse." Here the silent figure behind them caught her 
 cloak closer around her with a sudden twitch, and pressed 
 a little nearer. "You must pardon me," continued Byng, 
 " for speaking with, so little reserve, I feel it my duty, and
 
 230 KATE WESTON. 
 
 my friendship for you is an additional motive for my endea- 
 vors." 
 
 " Bless you, sir !" cried Mr. Pufton, " no apology ; I honor 
 you for it, sir, I love you for it, sir I always love nobility, 
 sir, wherever I find it, sir I adore nobility, sir, I do now, 
 sir, shake hands, sir, to prove that I adore nobility, sir." 
 
 " I have often thought that you would give up this traf- 
 fic, if you had any idea of its results,"* said his companion. 
 "Although the history of my brother-in-law furnishes less 
 direct evidence of the evils of liquor-dealing than many I 
 could name ; there is to my mind no question, that all our 
 subsequent family affliction was traceable to the influence 
 exerted over Lester Morris by the unprincipled man who des- 
 troyed him, strengthened by the example of men like you, 
 honored and praiseworthy in other respects, but sadly mis- 
 taken on that particular point." 
 
 "And wasn't that villain punished?" asked Mr. Pufton. 
 " He deserved the State's Prison for life, at the very least." 
 
 " No" answered Byng, " he was never punished. He had 
 powerful advocates to defend his act, and, although the proofs 
 were all against him, he succeeded in wresting the law to his 
 own purposes, so as to escape its sentence upon his sin. From 
 an ambiguous sentence in that last fatal letter, I gathered that 
 he was in some way connected with her betrayer, or at least 
 that she suspected so. Poor, dear Mary ! God bless her !" 
 
 The two men passed on, but the shrouded woman staggered 
 for a moment, made two or three headlong steps as though 
 striving to walk on, then, stopped still, and clutched convul- 
 sively at the iron railing beside her. She threw back her 
 vail, and gazed eagerly after the receding figures. But she 
 was powerless to follow scarcely strong enough to keep her- 
 self from falling, even with both hands clinging fast to the 
 railing. The great stone-walls threw down their ominous 
 shadow. Walls within which human guilt and misery must 
 always have its dwelling ; walls strong and mighty, the ram-
 
 KATE WESTON. 231 
 
 parts of the drunkard's palace, to attain which, he treads step 
 by step through paths more rugged than the Alpine cliffs 
 scaled by the fearless Hannibal. Trampling out purity, vir- 
 tue, love, hope and often life itself in the furious progress. 
 Walls at whose base are gathered poverty, disease, and suf- 
 fering in every shape, and under every guise. Their black 
 shadow falls upon the walk below. The filth gathered in the 
 street looks filthier here. The foul offensive stream coursing 
 through the gutters is more offensive here. The old, dismal 
 abodes opposite, although hundreds like them offend the eye 
 in that portion of our city, seem older and more dismal here. 
 The sounds of drunken revelry, the hoarse laugh, the bitter 
 curse mingle in fiercer discords here. 
 
 And yet we know that one single cause produces all. We 
 know that were that cause removed, nine out every ten of 
 those murderers, felons, and blasphemers would be trans- 
 formed into tender fathers, husbands, sons, and peaceable 
 citizens. We know this, and yet we put our hands idly in 
 our pockets, and quibble about expediency and constitution- 
 ality. Let men go on, and swear, and steal, and murder, break 
 up your ballot-boxes, and carry your elections ! It may not 
 be expedient, may not be constitutional! Verily, Man is a 
 Eiddle. 
 
 For some minutes the woman stood there alone, for the 
 street was deserted now. Now bending her hfed down to 
 the railing, now tossing it wildly back, now crying to herself 
 in bitterness of soul. " God bless her ! too late, too late ! 
 Lost, lost, lost ! My child, my child. Husband, mother, 
 brother." At last a group of men came clamoring around 
 the corner, and the woman, letting go her hold, again drew 
 her cloak and vail about her, and tottered away. But there 
 is a refuge for such as she. Not in the bosom of compas- 
 sionate piety, not in the ark of Christian charity, but in the 
 lethean cup that maddens while it soothes. She passed on to
 
 232 KATE WESTON. 
 
 a low comer, where only two or three men and women were 
 talking and laughing together. 
 
 As she entered, and advanced to the counter, one of the 
 women caught hold of her cloak. " Back aready, eh ? what 
 have you been a doing ? what are you a going to do ?" 
 
 " Do ?" cried she, flinging back her vail and letting her eyes 
 fall with a proud scorn upon the questioner. "Do? just what 
 you would do drink ! Drink ! it's all I can do now." 
 
 "You han't done nothin' else this many a long day," 
 answered the woman doggedly. "Just please speak a bit 
 more civil. You aren't better nor us, that you need be put- 
 ting on such mighty fine airs. Don't be proud o' your 
 learnin'." 
 
 " Proud !" echoed her companion. " Proud of crime and 
 pollution, proud of filth and rags ; proud of the company of 
 such as you ? No ! there's nothing left me now but drink ; 
 then give it me, or I die," and staggering to the counter, she 
 lifted to her burning lips the portion that was at once her 
 solace and her ruin. 
 
 " Oh, she's more than half-crazy, Mag !" cried one of the 
 men with an oath. " Don't notice her ; she'll get round after 
 a while. She don't generally have no such carryings on at 
 night. Its pretty much always she's worse in the day ; only 
 she shuts up then. Let her drink it off." 
 
 Drink off what ? Life body soul to death and eternal 
 ruin !
 
 "< >1>, she's more than half-crazy, Mag !" cried one of the men with an oath " Don't 
 lotice her: she'll get round after a while. She don't generally have no such can-vines 
 on at night. Its pretty much always she's worse in the dav: onlv she shuts up then- 
 Let her drink it oft'." 
 
 Drink off what? Life Imdy soul to death and eternal ruin ! P. 232.
 
 KATE WE8TON. 233 
 
 CHAPTER XVIH. 
 
 " EVERYTHING'S ready for to-niglit now. But I must have 
 some of those handsome new decanters up Billy, here." 
 
 The boy emerged from behind the screen, and approached 
 his master. There was a something of elasticity in his 
 motion, and a decided improvement in his general appearance 
 since we last saw him, and his eye neither fell before the gaze 
 of his companion, nor did his voice quiver as it had been 
 wont to do when he answered him. " Well, sir, what are 
 your orders." 
 
 There was a peculiar expression of inquiry upon the face 
 of the rumseller as he glanced at the boy, not unmingled 
 with vexation at his apparent unconcern. " How now, 
 sirrah !" he cried. " You're mighty bold lately. Go and fix 
 yourself for night, and open those oysters that came half an 
 hour ago, and hark'ee, let me see any of your airs, and I'll 
 beat you again, I'll beat the breath out of your body." 
 
 A little of the old crouching look was on the boy now, 
 and his eyes fell, but with a sudden and quite apparent effort, 
 turning very red in the face, he answered, " I cannot do as 
 you ordered me, sir. I am going to leave to-day." 
 
 Gamp started back a step or two, with his diabolical eyes 
 staring wide open upon the venturous youth, stood for a 
 minute swelling with anger and surprise, then, in a voice 
 hoarse with passion, cried, " Fool ! to leave me ? am I not 
 your uncle? your lawful guardian? know that you cannot 
 leave me. I would keep you if it were only for the sake of 
 humbling you. Pray what would you do ? A fine man you
 
 234 KATE WESTON. 
 
 to walk out into the world. Perhaps," he added, his tone 
 relapsing into scorn, " you might make a second Franklin or 
 Fulton, who knows ?" 
 
 The boy, quite excited, but determined in bis heart, spoke 
 again, but now with a quivering voice. " I can do something. 
 I have hands and I can work. I never believed that you 
 were my uncle, and I am determined upon leaving at any 
 rate ; you can follow me with the law, if you choose. But I 
 hate the business, and I'll never have anything to do with it 
 again, unless I am forced into it, and that I never shall be." 
 
 " Villain !" cried Gamp, " that blustering Clarence has put 
 you up to this. I'll give you a lesson !" and rushing towards 
 him he levelled a blow at the slender youth that brought him 
 upon the floor. 
 
 " Dat ere an't fair play, noways," said lame Joe, striding 
 with a hobble in at the door and up to the fallen boy. " I 
 nebber could remagine dat dat ere was fair play now." 
 
 The poor fellow got up ; Gamp paid no attention what- 
 ever, to the intruder, glowering still upon the boy. " You'll 
 leave me now, will you? You see there are more ways 
 than one to keep you. I guess you've found out you can't 
 leave me, eh ?" 
 
 " But I will leave you," he answered, resolutely, drawing a 
 little nearer Joe, perhaps a little more resolutely, for standing 
 in his shadow. " Nothing on earth shall keep me." 
 
 Gamp doubled both fists, and made a dive at him, but 
 Joe interposed his burly form, and calmly squaring himself 
 and doubling his -own fists, remarked pleasantly. '"Pears 
 now, dis yer nigger's a better match for yer. Sakes alive, 
 you'd comboberlate dat nutshell ob a feller afore I'd say boo 
 to a grasshopper." 
 
 Gamp scowled fiercely at him, and made a desperate rush 
 at the boy. Joe lifted one brawny arm between them, and 
 taking Billy's entire shoulder in his huge hand pushed, or 
 rather lifted him towards the door, saying, " Jest clar out dar
 
 KATE WESTON. 235 
 
 ef yer wants to get away. Laws a-massy, yer an't no 'count 
 long side o' dat ere big feller. Clar out wid yer." The boy 
 started, but his master, whose passion had overcome his cun- 
 ning, bounded upon him, and inflicted a severer blow than 
 before, that sent him again reeling to the floor. It was too 
 much for Joe. He shouted to the boy, " Clar out wid yer, 
 can't yer," at the same time seizing the back of his perse- 
 cutor's coat collar in his Herculean grasp, and belaboring 
 him soundly over the shoulders, accompanying the exercise 
 with varied expressions of his opinion. " An't yer 'shamed 
 now, to be beatin' dat mimiky arter such a fashion. Dat's 
 worse dan dis yer nigger'd do, now. Dat's what I call real 
 mean, any ways. Get away, Billy, an' don't yer nebber come 
 back agin. 'Tain't no place for yer. Clar out away to New 
 York, whar yer might make a bigger man dan mas'r yet. 
 Hold on dar, don't yer be a kickin' an a swearin' so, or I'll 
 hab to hit yer harder. I han't got nuffin agin yer, only I 
 can't stan' it, noways, to see dat poor chap so kinder knocked 
 all of a heap togedder. I'll leab go o' yer, soon's he's safe 
 off, only jest keep still, an don't cut up so hicombobflori- 
 ous, or I'll hab to hurt yer." 
 
 While the man struggled to free himself, foaming with 
 passion, and glaring like a demon alternately upon his escap- 
 ing victim and his resolute tormentor, and while the more 
 powerful form of the stalwart negro stood holding him fast, 
 with as little apparent effort as a mother would have caressed 
 her babe, the slave of that man's will passed from his control 
 for ever. 
 
 The boy cast no lingering look behind, but flew along the 
 road in the direction of Edward Clarence's office, with a speed 
 lent by terror, for now he had declared his resolution and 
 received such a decisive answer, he feared more than ever 
 falling again into the power of his master. When he reached 
 the door, panting and excited, he could hardly summon
 
 236 KATE WESTON. 
 
 breath to speak. ''Billy," cried the young physician, "what 
 is the matter ? Why have you been running so ?" 
 
 As soon as he could, the boy related his interview with 
 Gamp, and Joe's interposition, concluding with the entreaty 
 that Edward would assist him. " Assist you," he exclaimed. 
 " What assistance do you want now ? You are seventeen 
 years old, and strong enough, and healthy enough to assist 
 yourself. No," he added, laughing, " if I assist you I shall 
 have to take you through a course of physic, that's the assist- 
 ance I render, you know.. Thanks to lame Joe, you're safe 
 away for this time, and if you ever get back again, it'll be 
 your own fault. All the assistance you want is a little exer- 
 cise in God's free air, with a free sky above you and a free 
 soul in you. Why, I'd cleave out my fortune without a 
 penny in the world." 
 
 " But I'm not like you," said the boy, looking first at the 
 buoyant figure of his companion, then deprecatingly at his 
 own lank arms and bony fingers. " I shall never be like you." 
 
 " Nonsense !" answered Edward, in a tone that might have 
 infused hope into the very bosom of despair. "You are a 
 man now, Will, you've got the right use of your own hands, 
 your own limbs, and your own head. Don't be chicken- 
 hearted. Faint heart never Avon fair lady, you know, nor fair 
 anything else. Make your own way now, dash into the busi- 
 ness desperately ; you remember the noblest man on earth is 
 the self-made man." 
 
 " Where shall I start ?" asked Billy, less despondingly, but 
 still a little doubtful. " What shall I do first ?" 
 
 " Start for New York, to-night. When you get there do 
 something. Try to find a place as porter, or errand boy, and 
 if you can't do that, split wood, or shovel coal, or do any- 
 thing. I know you've talent, and if you go to work in 
 earnest, you'll get to the top of the ladder after a while, my 
 word for it."
 
 KATE WESTON. 237 
 
 There was something so cheerful and inspiriting in the 
 manly voice and manner, that Billy couldn't help catching a 
 portion of his enthusiasm. " And when does the boat leave 
 Newburgh ?" he asked. " Can I get there to-night ? But I've 
 no money," he added, with a blank dismay upon his face at 
 the sudden recollection. " I shall have to go afoot." 
 
 " Good ! capital ! " shouted Edward, bringing down his 
 hand with an encouraging slap upon Billy's shoulder. " That's 
 the spirit, my boy. If you can't ride, walk. If you can't do 
 great things, do little things. If you can't live well, live 
 poorly. Constant effort'll bring everything right after a while. 
 But I won't let you go quite penniless. Here's a five dollar 
 bill ; one dollar will take you to New York. -When you go 
 there, you must go to some plain, respectable mechanics' 
 boarding-house, in an entirely different part of the city from 
 where your porter-house was formerly located, so as to avoid, 
 if possible, ever meeting your master again. I don't mean 
 that you need be afraid to meet him, for he has no power 
 over you, and you must always stand your own ground now, 
 but he might annoy you if he knew where you were. Then 
 you must use your money to pay your board, and for nothing 
 else. You'll find something to do. I needn't tell you to avoid 
 such places as that you have just left, but you must keep 
 your wits about you, and look out you don't get taken 
 in." 
 
 " The doctor is wanted directly," said a red-headed boy, 
 opening the door. " Please, sir, mother's taken dreadful, all 
 of a sudden, and wants to see you right off. She told me 
 not to come back without you." 
 
 " Well," said the young practitioner, rising, " I suppose I 
 shall have to go at such a peremptory summons. Just step 
 out there, my boy, I'll come directly." The boy did as he 
 was directed, and Edward, taking out his own stout, but well- 
 worn purse, handed it to his companion, after having 
 removed the contents, and put a five dollar bill in the end.
 
 238 KATE TVESTON. 
 
 " There," he said, " take care of it, and you'll get it well-filled 
 yet. Be a good boy, go to church, and read your Bible. 
 The boat doesn't go till seven o'clock to-night. It's two 
 now, and it will take you only two hours to walk to New- 
 burgh. There, good-bye, now, don't come to see me again till 
 you've made something of yourself, only write to me often, 
 and don't forget me." As he spoke, he seized the boy's hand, 
 gave it a hearty shake, and was off before he had time to 
 answer. 
 
 Billy stood with the purse in his hand, looking after the 
 receding figure. The tears gathered in his eyes, and a melan- 
 choly smile played about his mouth as he murmured, " For- 
 get him ! I haven't so many friends like him, that I can 
 forget ;" then glancing at the worn purse, he added, " yes, I 
 will never come back until I am different from now. Hope 
 and Courage ! I need them both." 
 
 When Edward, or rather Dr. Clarence (as we are forced 
 through courtesy to call him now), was out of sight, the boy 
 turned away, and leaping across the stile at the corner, took 
 a short cut across the fields to the house of Mr. Terry. His 
 heart was lighter than it had ever been before ; the very air 
 around him seemed purer, the ground he trod more firm, the 
 sunshine more beautiful. That five dollars seemed a fortune 
 to him ; but the cheering words, the confident anticipations, 
 the warm interest of the sanguine young doctor had done 
 more for him than money could do. For the first time, he 
 actually and really believed himself a man, capable of meet- 
 ing the contingencies of life, and joining in its strug- 
 gles. 
 
 He opened the gate of the clergyman's garden, and passed 
 round to the back of the house. Maggie was watering her 
 flowers. When she saw him, she stopped still with the little 
 green watering-pot in her hand. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Will. I'm so glad to see you. Have you 
 done it?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 239 
 
 " I've done it ! I've done it ! I'm free now, and I'll do 
 more. I'm free, Maggie, just think of it !" 
 
 The little girl looked surprised, as she saw him actually bound 
 up two or three times from the ground with a true boyish 
 jump ; a minute after her face clouded. " Then you are 
 going away? I'm sorry you are going away. But you'll 
 come often, won't you, to see us ? Can't you come every 
 Sunday to Church and Sabbath School?" 
 
 " No, Maggie, I'm going away to be gone a long time, but 
 I will come back again sometime. I am going to work 
 now." 
 
 " What are you going to do ?" asked she, still looking sor- 
 rowful. , 
 
 " To work" he answered. " Work anyhow, or anywhere ; 
 but I'm determined to work. Why, I feel like another fellow 
 now, I'm away from that horrible place." 
 
 " He can't get you back again, can he ?" asked Maggie, 
 innocently. 
 
 The question was something of a damper upon his hopes, 
 and he answered with a shiver, " If I once get away to-night, I 
 don't think he'll ever catch me again. He's an awful man, 
 Maggie. I do believe he would have killed me before he 
 would let me go, if it had not been for lame Joe." 
 
 " What did lame Joe do ?" she asked. 
 
 Then the whole story of Joe and the doctor had to be told 
 over again, interspersed with exclamations and comments 
 from Maggie, and expressions of gratitude from Billy. 
 
 " So you see, Maggie," he said at last, " I shall have to be 
 off in a couple of hours." 
 
 " An't you going to get ready ?" asked Maggie. 
 
 " What have / got to get ready ? I am ready to go to the 
 end of the world. But I'm not ready to leave you, Maggie." 
 Here there was a sudden little break in his voice, and the 
 listening girl burst into tears. 
 
 " I love you, Will, don't go away from me," she sobbed.
 
 240 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " You are just like me, without any father or mother, or 
 brothers or sisters, and I think that's what makes me love 
 you better." 
 
 The boy turned away his head. " I love you, too, clearly, 
 Maggie ; but you know I can't stay here. Whenever I think 
 of you, it will make me work harder, and hold up my head 
 
 higher. Some day I'm coming back again, and then " 
 
 He paused, and a deep flush spread over his face. He looked 
 at the child ; she stood with those great tearful eyes fixed 
 with such an innocent inquisitiveness upon his face, that he 
 only added, " then I shall come to see you again, and thank 
 you better than I can now for all you have done for me." 
 
 " I've never done anything for you," she answered, still cry- 
 ing, " but I'm so sorry you're going away." 
 
 " You spoke the first loving word to me that I have heard 
 since I was a baby," he answered in a choking voice. " If it 
 hadn't been for that, I should never have dared attend Church 
 or Sunday School ; and I should never have learned all I 
 know now, and never been half so happy as I am or hope to 
 be." 
 
 " Oh ! no," she answered, it was Mr. Terry that taught you 
 to study your Bible, and find in that whatwas right and wrong. 
 Will you always read it, 'Will, and every night will you pray 
 to God for Jesus's sake ?" 
 
 " Yes, Maggie, I promise you I will ; and try to be good, 
 try very hard to be good." 
 
 " But I can't see you though," cried Maggie, " oh dear !" 
 She snatched up the- hem of her calico apron with both 
 hands, and commenced rubbing her eyes. 
 
 They were both crying by this time, although both trying 
 with all their might not to cry. At length the boy, a little 
 ashamed of his emotion, swallowed down his sobs, and com- 
 menced trying to comfort his companion. 
 
 " I shall come back again," he said, confidently, " I am 
 determined to get rich and famous some day, if it's only for
 
 KATE "WESTON. 241 
 
 your sake. I used to think I couldn't do anything or be any- 
 thing once, but I know better now. Don't cry, Maggie." 
 
 " But it'll be such a long time," sobbed Maggie, " and you 
 might be drowned, or get sick, and I should never know." 
 
 " Yes, you shall know too, for I am going to write to you 
 once every month, and if anything happens to me, you shall 
 know it ; but you must write too, for I shall" want to know all 
 about you ; only be careful when you carry letters to the 
 office that somebody doesn't see the direction, eh ?" 
 
 Maggie stopped crying and looked up. " Are you afraid 
 he'd make you come back ?" 
 
 " I don't know," he answered, thoughtfully. " I don't think 
 he could, but he might tiy to worry me. He hates me, and," 
 added the boy, firing with indignation, " / hate him. 1 ' 
 
 " Oh !" said Maggie, " you oughtn't to say you hate any- 
 body. That's wicked, you know." 
 
 " I do hate him," he answered, passionately. " I'd like to 
 know what I've ever had of him since I can remember, but 
 blows, and curses, and ill-usage. He's tried 4o frighten me 
 lately by talking about law, and his right of guardian. He 
 isn't my uncle ; I know he isn't ; I never believed it, and I'm 
 sure he wouldn't dare to go to law about me." 
 
 The fierce indignation pictured on his countenance for an 
 instant banished the sorrow of his companion, who asked balf- 
 wonderingly, " What makes you so sure, Will ? I don't see why 
 he shouldn't be your uncle. I know some good people that 
 have veiy bad relations. There's good-natured little Kitty 
 Toole's got a drunken father, and " 
 
 "Oh, 'tisn't that!" interrupted the youth, "I'm not good at 
 all. I've been brought up always in every sort of wickedness. 
 There isn't a boy my age in the village that's seen anything 
 like it, not even Jake Jones !" 
 
 " But," pleaded Maggie, laying her -hand on his arm ; " you 
 didn't do it, I know you didn't, and you couldn't help being 
 there then, you know." 
 
 11
 
 242 KATE WESTON. 
 
 A quiver of pain shot over the boy's pale face, then passed 
 away leaving the old, sad, troubled look behind. For a minute 
 he stood, gazing mechanically at the small hand that lay so 
 gently on his arm. " Don't look so, Will, you frighten me," 
 she added at length, " What is the matter ?" 
 
 " Maggie, once, a good while ago, when I was quite a little 
 boy, master got angry at a man that I liked, and rushed at 
 him with a knife. I caught up another that lay on the table, 
 and thrust it in master's shoulder. I meant to kill him, for 
 I'm sure I hated him enough, but he only knocked me sense- 
 less on the floor, and the first thing I knew when I came to 
 my senses, I was lying on the floor with my hand lying in a 
 pool of blood. I looked round, and there, close by me on the 
 floor, lay the corpse of the man I had tried to defend. That 
 gives me more trouble than anything else, to remember that 
 I was just as bad as master, and if I had happened to hit him 
 in the right place, I should have been a murderer? He 
 shuddered, and put both hands before his face. 
 
 " And wasn't anything done to him ?" asked Maggie, also 
 shuddering, and recoiling a step or two. 
 
 " No, he got off because I didn't see him do it. That's one 
 thing makes me think he'll hunt me out wherever I go. He 
 was always ugly to me, but ever since then he might better 
 have killed me twenty times over, only Oh ! I'm a dreadful 
 wretch, Maggie, I couldn't die, either ; what would become of 
 me ? I'm almost as bad as he !" The slender form crouched, 
 the head was bowed, and the whole attitude was expressive of 
 self-loathing and humiliation. 
 
 For a few moments his companion stood at a little distance, 
 looking doubtfully at him, and feeling, perhaps, less esteem 
 and more pity than she had ever felt for him before. But the 
 loving look soon shone out again upon her face, and she stole 
 up to his side, " But you- were quite young then, and had 
 never been taught any better. Besides you did it to save 
 your friend's life."
 
 KATE WESTON. 243 
 
 " I believe I'd have done it many's the time, if "it hadn't 
 been for fear of what would happen afterwards. I'm sure he'd 
 kill me if he didn't hate me too bad. He thinks that would 
 put me out of his power. Oh, Maggie !" he continued, with 
 a fresh burst of anguish, " I mean to be better, I will be better, 
 I'm going to try to be as good some day as Dr. Clarence, but 
 I can't make up for all those horrible years, and you won't 
 love me and perhaps I shall die and then what will become 
 of me ?" 
 
 The girl paused, with a puzzled, anxious look at his quiver- 
 ing face ; at last she said half-hesitating, " Will, I shall love 
 you, I shall never stop loving you, but you don't go the right 
 way to work to be good. We are all bad, Will, Mr. Terry 
 says so." 
 
 " No," he answered, shaking his head, " you're not bad, nor 
 Mr. Terry, and I'm sure Dr. Clarence never could be bad. 
 When Mr. Terry preaches about sin and the wicked place, I 
 take it all for me, and many's the night I've laid awake crying 
 and lamenting more over my own wickedness than over all 
 my trouble with master. I know you never hated, Maggie. 
 Oh ! it's a dreadful thing to hate." 
 
 " I used to, Will," she answered. " There was a girl in 
 New York I hated dreadfully, she beat me so, and called me 
 such names. I've often felt as though I'd like to bite her nose 
 off, if I could. And when I first came here, I hated Catha- 
 rine too, she snubbed me so, and told Mrs. Terry stories about 
 me. But I hope I don't hate anybody now." 
 
 " You did !" exclaimed the boy, " I didn't think you could. 
 How did you leave off hating then ?" 
 
 " I prayed to God to help me," was the unaffected answer, 
 " and if you pray to God, He'll help you too." 
 
 " I do pray, and pray and pray", he said bitterly, "but it 
 don't do any good. I only feel worse after ; sometimes I 
 think I'll never pray again at all." 
 
 " Don't think so," she answered earnestly. " It's because
 
 244 KATE WESTON. 
 
 you don't pray right, Will. Jesus Christ says ' Whatsoever 
 ye shall ask in rny name, believing that ye shall receive, that 
 ye shall surely have.' I've asked that you might come to 
 love our blessed Savior, and trust in Him for salvation ; and 
 I know" she added, turning a face lit all over with the 
 blessed, child-like faith of the humble follower of Jesus, "I know 
 that some day you will love Him, and be like Him." 
 
 The boy made no answer, although his soul drank in a 
 draught of hope from the earnest, loving words of the child- 
 disciple. She turned quickly away, entered the house, and 
 soon returned with her little pocket-Bible. " Come, Will," 
 she said, " let's go down to the old apple-tree by the barn, a 
 little while. Mr. and Mrs. Terry have gone out, and I want 
 to tell you something." 
 
 They walked away together through the little green lane 
 that led to the barn, and seated themselves on the grass, at 
 the foot of a huge apple-tree loaded with fruit. 
 
 " I can only stay an hour, Maggie," said William, as he 
 dropped on the ground beside her; "I must stop at Mr. 
 Clarence's and Rosy's before I go." 
 
 Happy boy ! that hour was the sunrise of a new day, glo- 
 rious, unending ; the hour to which he turned in long years 
 of toil and trial as the parent of every pure resolve, every 
 immortal aspiration, every deed of love and faith that rendered 
 his after life an oasis in the world's desert to all who needed 
 his sympathy or aid. 
 
 " I brought you here to tell you how I came to find out 
 the way to pray," said Maggie, her voice faltering a little at 
 first, through natural diffidence, which she. was evidently 
 striving to cast off, for the sake of her companion. " Once I 
 felt just as you do. Sometimes, after mj teacher in New 
 York told me about God, a,nd Heaven, and prayer, I used to 
 pray to be made better, and try with all my might to be good ; 
 but I couldn't do it at all ; before I knew anything about it, 
 there would be that old ugly feeling coming up in my heart,
 
 KATE WESTON. 245 
 
 and all I could do I couldn't keep it away. Sometimes for 
 two or three days together, I would think I was very good 
 indeed ; I can remember looking at other girls and thinking 
 to myself, ' If they only knew how much oftener I prayed, 
 and how much better I was than they, wouldn't they feel 
 ashamed?' But I always found out that after I thought I 
 had been very good for a day or two, I was sure to do some- 
 thing very bad that discouraged me entirely. But after I 
 came out here, I found that I couldn't be good myself, and it 
 was no use to try." 
 
 Her companion interrupted her. "But you are not like 
 me, Maggie. You must have been a great deal better than I 
 am, always. You haven't helped along in such dreadful 
 wickedness as I've had to, many a time before I knew you and 
 Dr. Clarence." 
 
 " Oh, Will," said the eager girl, " you don't know ; God 
 looks at the heart, and His Holy Word says ' The heart is 
 deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.' My heart 
 used to be full of anger, and envy, and selfishness, and I have 
 to fight hard now to keep it away." The child's diffidence 
 was forgotten now, and the simple words came gushing 
 from the soul like waters from a fountain, while her 
 upturned face glowed with the hope of opening light to the 
 darkened eyes of the convicted sinner. " I tell you, Will," she 
 continued, " if I had been situated just as you were, I really 
 believe I should have been a great deal worse. I heard Mr. 
 Terry say the other day, that he thought it was very strange 
 you were not more hardened, living as you had, under such 
 dreadful influences all your life ; and Mr. Clarence, who was 
 there, said, in his dear, good-natured way. ' Bless you, Terry, 
 that boy'll make something yet. He's been kept from the 
 evil of this world just by the help of Almighty God, and it's 
 wonderful, so 'tis. If he don't make one o' the best Chris- 
 tians that ever lived, before lie dies, then my name isn't 
 Jeremiah Clarence."
 
 246 KATE WE6TON. 
 
 " They don't know how bad I am," groaned the boy. 
 
 "It makes no difference how bad you are," she replied. 
 
 " No difference how bad I am ?" 
 
 " No, not to God. We have all sinned, and He is so holy, 
 that he cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allow- 
 ance, but" 
 
 "That's it," cried her companion. "All my fears and 
 troubles with master were nothing to that. When I 
 think about the Great, Holy God, and death, and eternity, 
 and the judgment, I don't know which way to turn. All 
 the sins of my life rise up before me ; I think how hard I 
 have tried to make myself better, and that I cannot do it ; 
 and so I must go on, and die at last without hoping " 
 
 "No, no," interrupted Maggie. "You will be better, I 
 know you will ; let me tell you. I felt just as you do once ; 
 I thought God was so angry with me, that he could never 
 forgive me. But dear Mrs. Terry gave me this blessed book, 
 and taught me from it about Jesus Christ, who died that we 
 might be saved. I gave up trying to be good myself, and 
 found out that I must trust all into the hands of Jesus, and 
 pray to love Him and be like Him. Once," she continued, 
 letting her eyes wander admiringly over the landscape, " I 
 used to sit down here, and look at the green fields, and the 
 blue sky, and the shining river, and tremble at the thought 
 that I had sinned against that God who made them ; but 
 now," she added, with a burst of enthusiasm, " when I look 
 at His beautiful things, I can hardly help singing out for joy, 
 because I know now the God who made them is my Hea- 
 venly Father, yes mine, because ' He sent His only begotten 
 Son, that whosoever believeth on Him, should not perish, 
 but have everlasting life.' " 
 
 " How I wish I could be like you !" said the boy sadly, gaz- 
 ing at her animated face. " But I'm afraid Jesus Christ isn't 
 willing to save me. I don't love Him enough. I've prayed 
 to Him too, but I can't believe He hears me."
 
 KATE WESTON. 247 
 
 " Well now, William," said the young girl, taking up her 
 Bible, and drawing to his side, " I will tell you what Mrs. 
 Terry did for me. I didn't like to tell her at first how I felt 
 about it, but she spoke to me so gently, and asked me such 
 simple questions, that she found all out herself. She used 
 to take this little Bible, and no matter what I would say, she 
 would find some place or other in it that answered me. At 
 first I couldn't believe all the passages were there that she 
 used to read ; then I began to think it was the most wonder- 
 ful book that was ever written ; and now I know it is the 
 best and dearest. You said just now that you could not 
 believe that God heard you. Now I have the passages all 
 marked here that Mrs. Terry found for me, and I can find 
 you one, here it is: John v. 17. 'If we ask anything 
 according to His will He heareth us.' " 
 
 " Then I don't ask according to his will, and he will not 
 hear me," answered her companion quickly. 
 
 " Don't you think then, you ought to try to find out the 
 will of God?" 
 
 " I know what His will is, already. It is His will that I 
 should be good and holy, but I can not ; the harder I try, the 
 worse I seem to be." 
 
 " 1 thought so too, once, but I found out that wasn't all His 
 will." 
 
 " Not all !" exclaimed Will ; " I can't even do that!" 
 
 " Well," said Maggie, smiling, " if you could do that, you 
 needn't want to do any more. Hear what the Apostle John 
 says, ' And this is His commandment ; that we should believe 
 on the name of His Son Jesus Christ.' If it wasn't His will, 
 do you think he would have commanded us to believe ?" 
 
 " I do believe in Jesus Christ." 
 
 " But you don't believe that he will save you ?" 
 
 " I'm afraid not. I am not good enough." 
 
 The girl turned over to a fly leaf of her Bible, written over 
 in a fine legible hand, and commenced reading, slightly
 
 248 KATE WESTON. 
 
 emphasizing some words as she continued,, "'The soul that 
 sinneth, it shall die.' 
 
 " ' This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation that 
 Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I 
 am chief? 
 
 " ' The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from 
 all sin.' 
 
 " ' God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten 
 Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not perish, but 
 have everlasting life. For God sent not His Son into the 
 world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him 
 might be saved.' 
 
 " ' He that believeth on Him is not condemned ; but he that 
 believeth not, is condemned already, because he hath not 
 believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.' 
 
 " ' Verily, verily, I say unto you, whatsoever ye shall ask the 
 Father in my name, he will give it you. Hitherto, ye have 
 asked nothing in my name; ask, and ye shall receive, that 
 your joy may be full.' " 
 
 The youth sat listening attentively until she closed the 
 book, and without turning her eyes towards him, knelt down 
 upon the turf; he unconsciously knelt beside her, bowing his 
 head upon his hands, and such a prayer went up from the 
 shadow of that old apple-tree, as never before had found an 
 echo in the repentant sinner's heart Wakening the dor- 
 mant seeds of faith, and trust, and love to a new life ; calling 
 down the Holy Spirit's influences, like the dew upon Hermon 
 to fertilize the desert, and make the wilderness rejoice. Ear- 
 nest, loving Maggie ! Not in vain did that prayer ascend to 
 Heaven. Faith and labor like thine in every Christian's heart 
 would scatter broadcast over the earth seed that springeth 
 up unto everlasting life. Hanpy Maggie ! " He that turneth 
 a sinner from the error of his ways saveth a soul from death, 
 and covereth a multitude of sins." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Terry, the Clarences and Rosy had all some
 
 KATE WESTON. 249 
 
 characteristic expression of their solicitude in his behalf. The 
 young clergyman with unusual earnestness said to him at 
 parting, " God bless you, my boy. Here is a reference Bible 
 and a copy of the Pilgrim's Progress. Never rest until you 
 are on the celestial highway, and be sure you enter it by the 
 wicket gate, pray to God for the sake of Jesus Christ our 
 only hope and Redeemer. I hope you may be successful in 
 the world, but do not set your heart upon its treasures." 
 
 " Well," soliloquized Rosy, as she watched him bounding 
 across the fields, " de blessed Lord'll go wid dat boy. Lawk 
 alive, didn't I tink he wor de most 'rnarkable chap dat fust 
 day he com'd here wid Mas'r Edward. Gettin' him tipsy, and 
 den a cryin' ober it. He make him tipsy ! Law, it makes 
 me laf to dis day to tink ob it. He's a goin' to impair his 
 fortune now, 'dough. Good boy. De Lord will go wid him, 
 dat ar a feet." 
 
 The boy's way lay over green fields and under trees arrayed 
 in gorgeous hues of brown, red, and gold. He sat down upon 
 a knoll in the woods, and unfolded his parcel. He had 
 hardly had time to glance at the few parting gifts of the only 
 friends he possessed in all the wide world. The first glance 
 at them called forth a fresh burst of tears. His parting was 
 no ordinary one ; to the youth, whose early years went by in 
 cloud and storm, until almost every leaf of the delicate heart- 
 flower lay crushed and withered, it was no small thing to tear 
 away from the fostering hands that had raised the drooping 
 stem, and kindled a new life by the sunshine of Christian love. 
 Even while he rejoiced at the freedom he had won, he wept 
 that in gaining it, he had cut himself from all support and 
 assistance save such as depended on his own exer- 
 tions. 
 
 His heart sank within him. How should he, a stranger in 
 
 a strange world, without education, without friends, without 
 
 money, ever master all these difficulties, and bring back to 
 
 those so hopeful on his behalf, good name, fortune, and a stand- 
 
 11*
 
 250 KATE WESTON. 
 
 ing in society ? Above all, how should he learn that meek- 
 ness and holiness for which his spirit yearned ? 
 
 He opened his new Bible and started as he read on the 
 blank page just beneath his name, as if in answer to his 
 thoughts, 
 
 ' Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, 
 and all these things shall be added unto you." A little 
 further down he read, 
 
 "Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard that the 
 everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the 
 earth, fainteth not, neither is weary ? there is no searching of 
 his understanding. 
 
 " He giveth power to the faint ; and to them that have 
 no might he increaseth strength. 
 
 " Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young 
 men shall utterly fall. 
 
 " But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their 
 strength ; they shall amount up with wings as eagles ; they 
 shall run, and not be weary ; and they shall walk, and not 
 faint." 
 
 The boy fell with his face to the ground ; where no human 
 eye could see, no human ear could hear, he poured forth the 
 first passionate prayer of faith and hope, " Lord, be Thou my 
 helper ! . Lord, save, or I perish ! Lord have mercy on the 
 chief of sinners for the sake of Jesus Christ, thy Son. Lord, 
 I believe ; take me for thine own ; make me thine, wholly 
 thine, not in my name, not in mine, but in the name of Jesus 
 my Savior." 
 
 The All-seeing saw, the All-hearing heard, the All-pitying 
 pitied, and light from Heaven streamed in upon the darkened 
 soul. 
 
 The Spirit of God, bearing peace and healing in its wings, 
 came down to the breast of the orphan boy ; that Spirit, 
 which, so often, grieved away from the home of wealth and 
 talent, makes its dwelling-place among the lowly of earth,
 
 KATE WESTON. 251 
 
 bestows upon them treasures richer than gold or gems, and 
 opens their mouth to sing aloud, a song whose depth and 
 purity poet cannot reach, nor learned tongues command. 
 
 As the boy flew down the hill towards the boat, his heart 
 swelled with a new and unimagined joy. " Old things had 
 passed away, and all things had become new." A blessed 
 consciousness that he had now a Friend who would be always 
 near, buoyed him above all doubt or fear. He murmured to 
 himself, " I will seek first the kingdom of God and His right- 
 eousness, and further than that, thy will, O Lord, not mine be 
 done." 
 
 So absorbed had he been in his meditations, that he barely 
 escaped being left ; he reached the landing, however, just as 
 the plank was being withdrawn, and hastening to the bows of 
 the boat, seated himself alone, and again opened his Bible, 
 laying his Pilgrim's Progress on the package at his side. 
 Then he recollected that he had not seen Maggie's little gift, 
 for just as she was saying, " take it, Willie, it is a minature of 
 brother and me when we were little children, and all I have 
 to give you," Mrs. Terry had entered the room, and rolled 
 up Maggie's little parcel in her own, before giving it into his 
 hand. He unrolled the. paper, took out some articles of 
 clothing, Mrs. Terry's gift, and opened the little paper given 
 him by Maggie. It was a gold locket, with the initials, M. 
 E. M. engraved on the outside. He touched the spring; a 
 small branch tastefully formed of three different kinds of 
 hair lay bedded beneath the crystal. One was black, another 
 silver grey, and another golden, the last, bright and shining, 
 the prettiest he thought, he had ever seen. Another opening 
 revealed two sweet childish faces, painted on ivory, both with 
 ringlets floating partly over them, and very much alike, except 
 that the girl's curls and eyes were black, while the eyes of the 
 boy were a clear blue, and his ringlets the counterpart of the 
 golden hair on the other side of the locket. He tried to 
 trace the resemblance between the likene^ss and Maggie. They
 
 252 KATE WESTON. 
 
 looked alike, to be sure ; the eyes were the same color, the 
 
 features the same shape, and yet something in the eyes, 
 
 that he loved best was wanting there ; something in the smile 
 about the mouth seemed different from Maggie. He looked 
 a good while, and at last came to the conclusion that it was 
 not a true likeness, and folding it up, again betook himself to 
 his book. 
 
 And yet it was an excellent likeness at the time it was 
 taken ; and not a feature of the child's face had changed either. 
 But something was changed ; the heart had been early tried 
 as in the refiner's fire, and the light now gleaming from her 
 dark eyes, and dancing about her mouth, was not the sunshine 
 of childhood's mirth, but borrowed light from heaven, that 
 had guided him to peace and happiness. 
 
 As he sat absorbed in meditation, he did not notice the 
 silent approach of another searcher for solitude, nor see the 
 glance of surprise with which he was regarded, as the stranger 
 seated himself at a little distance, with the long skirts of his 
 coat touching the deck, depositing at his side a package and 
 a pair of gloves, and after taking a small book from his 
 pocket, giving one or two satisfied little nods, and leaning his 
 chin upon the top of his silver-headed cane, commenced read- 
 ing to himself. His attention, however, seemed difficult to 
 fix, for he could not have read more than a sentence or two, 
 before he looked up at the boy again ; then his eye happened 
 to fall upon the Pilgrim's Progress at his side. There was a 
 picture on the cover of Christian knocking at the wicket gate, 
 that he perfectly remembered he had seen at Mr. Terry's. 
 He now looked still more puzzled, but upon again looking up 
 to see tears standing in the eyes of his companion, he jumped 
 up, made three or four quick steps towards him, crying as the 
 boy looked up 
 
 " What are you doing here ? Reading the Bible, eh ?" 
 The little old gentleman was so astonished that he forgot to 
 bow or thump as usual, and stood, cane in hand, gazing at the
 
 KATE WESTON. 253 
 
 confused boy, who answered, " Yes, Mr. Benson, reading the 
 Bible." 
 
 "Well now, I'm delighted at that; but seems to me, T. 
 Gamp & Co.'d hardly give you these to read ; very strange" 
 and the old gentleman gave two or three dubious shakes of 
 the head, and looked wonderinglyat his companion. 
 
 "No indeed," answered he, "I think not. Mr. Terry gave 
 me these, and I shall bless him as long as I live. I have left 
 Mr. Gamp." 
 
 " Left T. Gamp & Co. ! Left ! Ha ha ha "thump 
 thump thump " ha ha ha ! Then the lamb is out of 
 the snare of the ravening wolf. How did jou leave 
 him ?" 
 
 The boy, who was aware of Father Benson's enmity to his 
 late master, related to him the particulars of his escape, every 
 now and then interrupted by a delighted chuckle consisting 
 of three distinct little ha ha ha's, or by three emphatic 
 thumps of the indefatigable cane. When William was through 
 his story, he sat for a few minutes as though recalling some 
 thought that he wished to remember. Then, suddenly, his 
 countenance lighting up with a gleam of delight, dropping his 
 cane altogether, and rubbing his hands ecstatically together, 
 he exclaimed, " Three years three everything goes by 
 threes, my boy. Three years exactly since you came to our 
 village. I knew it, I knew it everything by threes. Three 
 years from to-day, my Willie'll come back to me. You are 
 like Willie too, he added, glancing musingly upon the slender 
 youth, only my boy was straight and firm as an arrow, and he 
 had fine dark whiskers, but you are bent, and your cheeks are 
 
 thin and pale ; but then you might have been ill, and 
 
 say, you are not my boy," he cried, seizing him nervously by 
 the arm " tell me, you are Willie, and have broken away 
 from them at last." 
 
 The youth perceiving his excitement, and aware of his 
 mania, spoke calmly, " No, Mr. Benson, I am not your son, I
 
 254 KATE WESTON. 
 
 never saw you before I came to Laconia. I wish I had a 
 father, but I do not suppose I have." 
 
 " Well, well, then," said Father Benson, relaxing his hold, I 
 shall have to wait three years longer, and you'll have to 
 wait too three, the appointed time. Yes," he continued, 
 musing, and tapping the deck at every word " three three 
 three it was always three ; it always will be three." 
 
 Poor old man ; he didn't remember in his partial blindness, 
 that many threes had begun and gone, since he first wept the 
 parting from his boy. 
 
 Father Benson was a true disciple of Jesus, and though his 
 mind was clouded with partial insanity, no foot walked more 
 steadily than his in the way of holiness. He was by no 
 means an idler in his Master's vineyard ; nor did he suffer so 
 favorable an opportunity for pressing home to the youth the 
 offers of salvation, to pass by without profit. His" companion, 
 reading in the aged face the simple benevolence of his char- 
 acter, related to him all the occurrences of the day, including 
 the peace that had entered his heart, and the implicit trust he 
 felt in the Savior who had died that he might live. Tears 
 glistened on the furrowed cheeks long before the boy had 
 finished his recital. He drew from his standard library 
 Doddridge's Rise and Progress, and handed it to William, 
 saying half-mournfully, " God bless you, boy. He will bless you. 
 Verily, 'His hand has snatched you as a brand from the 
 burning, or as a bird from the snare of the fowler.' " Then 
 bursting into tears, he cried, as if for a moment recalled to 
 perfect reason, " My son, my son, if your feet had but returned 
 to the ways of peace, I could have died content. But," he 
 continued, checking his tears, "he will come back in three 
 years yes, everything by threes." 
 
 The youth sat long that night gazing up to the starry skies, 
 and out over the waters. All things lovely had in them now 
 a still, small voice never audible before. The waves rolling 
 up their white foam on either side, talked to him of God.
 
 KATE WESTON. 255 
 
 The stars, sinning down from the calm sty told their own 
 silent tale of Infinite power and "unending time. But sweetest 
 of all, in that one trampled human heart lay the changeless 
 proof of Infinite compassion and undying love. The Spirit of 
 God had taken of the things of God and revealed them to the 
 new-born soul. 
 
 And Maggie, when she knelt at her bed-side that night, did 
 no voice whisper her of a noble deed performed ; of a trial 
 bravely met, and a lofty mission done. If so, she bowed her 
 head meekly, murmuring, " To Thy name be all the glory." 
 Had some ministering spirit borne to her soul the tidings of 
 the wanderer's safety, that that triumphant strain of praise and 
 joy went up to Heaven ? Faith such as filled the breast of 
 Abraham when he bound his son upon the altar such as the 
 Hebrew mother felt when she left her babe beside the rushing 
 waters, gave as truly to her soul the consciousness of that 
 prayer answered, as though a voice from Heaven had spoken. 
 She knelt there, not now the timid, sorrowing child, but the 
 triumphant Christian. 
 
 Nor was it to William only that her faithful efforts had been 
 blest. The young clergyman had that day returned with a 
 heavy heart from some unsuccessful labors in his parish. 
 
 Not finding his wife in, he had gone quietly to the barn to 
 leave the horse he had been riding. Having occasion to 
 ascend to the loft above, he was attracted by the sound of 
 voices from without, and looking out had witnessed the scene 
 beneath the apple tree. When he recognized in the list of 
 passages read by Maggie with such depth of feeling, the very 
 ones he had selected for her study a year or two previous, 
 when she was earnestly seeking the way of life, his soul was 
 comforted. Worn out with apparently fruitless efforts, his 
 heart had long been sick with hope deferred. Faithful always 
 to his sacred trust, he labored in the pulpit, at the hearthstone, 
 and by the wayside, for the salvation of immortal r,ouls. But 
 of late his efforts had seemed fruitless. The hearts of men
 
 256 KATE WESTON. 
 
 seemed hardened ; vices of a decided character were emanat- 
 ing from the two or three small groggeries now established 
 in the village. Gamp had associated with himself a partner, 
 whose purposes he could too well imagine, since the loft of 
 the old saloon had been newly furnished with billiards and card 
 tables. That afternoon, too, he had heard that his own young 
 brother-in-law had been decoyed into playing a game of bil- 
 liards with Reid and Myers. But in the expostulations and 
 eloquent prayers of the child he read a lesson of faith and 
 patience. Here was a fruit of his labors least expected and 
 least hoped for. Two years before he had welcomed the child 
 as a lamb into the fold of the good Shepherd, and now she 
 was pleading with more eloquence and power than he could 
 have done, in behalf of one whose heart he had not hitherto 
 been able to reach. From the loft of the old barn he had 
 carried to his home a new supply of hope 'and strength to 
 buoy him up amid the waves of wickedness by which he was 
 surrounded.
 
 KATE WESTON. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " No Alice, I won't have Dr. Currer. I don't want him. 
 I want Edward Clarence. Mr. Pufton says he'll do me more 
 good than all the doctors in New York. He promised to go 
 up to Newburgh after him to-day." 
 
 " But Clarence, Mother says it will be inconvenient for him 
 to leave Laconia. You must remember he has a practice to 
 attend to there." 
 
 " I don't care," cried the boy, petulantly, " I want him here, 
 and you don't any of you care a straw about me, or " 
 
 " Oh, Clary !" cried his sister, reproachfully, " your sickness 
 makes you exacting. I think myself it would be hardly right 
 to send for him to come away from his other patients." 
 
 " Pshaw !" cried Clarence, pushing her roughly away, " you 
 care more about everybody else than me." 
 
 Alice burst into tears, and flew down stairs to her mother's 
 room. " Mother," she said, sobbing, " what is the matter with 
 Clary's temper ? I never saw anybody alter so much in all 
 my life. He is so cross lately that he seems hardly to love 
 me any more, when there's nothing under the sun I wouldn't 
 do for him." 
 
 Her mother sighed heavily, " His disease, my child, wears 
 so upon his mind, and you know it is a terrible affliction to be 
 blind." 
 
 " But mother, he wasn't so at first, at all. I wish he would 
 give up taking brandy and wine. He's scarcely ever entirely 
 free from its effects, and I believe it's that." 
 
 Mrs. Ainslie sighed again. "I wish we had never given
 
 258 KATE WESTON. 
 
 it him at all. He has taken it now for two years, and I'm 
 afraid it would hardly do for him to leave off." 
 
 " I remember," said Alice, " when Dr. Currer came that 
 first time he ever used it, he shook his head, and looked very 
 grave. But he did not hinder his taking it afterwards." 
 
 " I suppose, my dear, he felt afraid of after consequences, 
 but found the relief so immediate at the time as to render him 
 willing to hazard the application. No one can foresee the 
 danger in such matters as those." 
 
 " I believe Kate and Arthur are about right, after all," said 
 Alice, thoughtfully, wiping away her tears. " It isn't safe to 
 drink at all. I wonder if we couldn't tiy to keep it away 
 from Clary ?" 
 
 " I have just been thinking it over," answered her mother ; 
 " to-day I spoke to your father about it, and he thought we 
 might venture to try it. I think I shall tell him that if he will 
 not touch a drop for two days, I will accept Mr. Pufton's offer 
 to go up the river for Dr. Clarence." 
 
 The second day after that, Mr. Pufton accordingly started 
 on the mission, which was no less pleasing to him than 
 agreeable to Clarence. He reached Laconia at eight o'clock 
 in the evening, and was about proceeding to the house of Mr. 
 Jeremiah -Clarence. As he passed up the principal street of 
 the village, his steps were arrested in front of the old town 
 hall, by the sound of a clear ringing voice addressing the 
 audience within. It required but a moment's attention to 
 make the dumpling gentleman whisk about and puff his way 
 into the hall among the crowd that hung with breathless 
 interest upon the words of the speaker. As Mr. Pufton list- 
 ened, tears glistened in his eyes, and his big heart almost burst 
 from his little body. Edward Pufton Clarence, his namesake, 
 his pet, was chaining the eager attention of six hundred 
 delighted auditors. 
 
 It was an appeal in behalf of the persecuted Portuguese 
 refugees that he was delivering. The hall was filled with
 
 KATE WESTON. 259 
 
 ladies and gentlemen from every grade of Laconia society. 
 Tender hearts melted beneath his eloquence, and even men of 
 stern brow and rigid lip, let fall now and then a tear of pity 
 as he pointed to the homeless wanderers, hunted from the 
 country of their birth, torn from the bosom of friends, driven 
 out upon the world's waste to seek the daily bread that should 
 keep death from completing the cruel work that tyranny had 
 begun. 
 
 Words alone seemed totally insufficient to express his ideas. 
 The lightning of the dark eye, the quivering of the chiselled 
 lip, the heart-light flashing over every feature of the intel- 
 lectual face ; the life thrown into every sentence and wordby 
 the graceful, excited motions of the speaker, the ringing tones 
 of a voice musical as the chime of a silver bell, all these ren- 
 dered the excited youth utterly irresistible, not only to the 
 young and impulsive, but to men who had listened unmoved 
 to the harangues of learned statesmen and eloquent divines. 
 
 It were difficult to tell whose bosom heaved highest with 
 delighted pride, and almost adoring love. Whether the great- 
 hearted farmer father, every now and then whisking the red 
 bandana to his eyes, and then blowing his nose vehemently 
 to hide the shame of crying at the speeches of his own son ; 
 the sisters weeping uncontrolledly in spite of themselves, Mr. 
 Pufton bobbing his head inconceivably, and rubbing his eyes 
 till they were actually redder than his nose ; or sweet Kate 
 Weston, sitting quietly beside her mother, with that intense 
 lustre of eye and cheek, looking, as the soft light streamed 
 over her golden hair and placid brow, the true embodiment 
 of woman's purity. 
 
 But when, at the conclusion of his address, the speaker, 
 stretching forth his hands to the audience, and in such tones 
 as a yearning mother would have pleaded for her child, poured 
 out his earnest soul, not one who listened but had forgotten 
 the speaker, themselves, everything, in the absorbing interest 
 of the theme.
 
 260 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " They are passing for ever away from the shelter of their 
 homes, bruised under the foot of their own countryman, pro- 
 nounced accursed of their own brother. The wide sea holds 
 them now. Outcast and ruined, no land welcomes them to 
 its embrace. Children of the Puritans, they have trodden in 
 the very footprints of your fathers. Are not your hearts 
 yearning to greet them ? Shall the mother clasp her babe to 
 her bosom, and cry to you in vain for a foothold on your 
 shores? Shall the husband and father, robbed of shelter for 
 his best beloved, look out upon the shiftless ocean, and feel 
 that there alone he has a right to dwell ? Shall the rosy child 
 weep for the vineyards and the orange groves of home ? 
 Shall the maiden, bravely leaving her lover for her God, find like 
 the weary dove, no rest for her foot in all the beautiful earth ? 
 No !" and here the voice of the speaker swelled to a trumpet- 
 tone, " by all we cherish, no ! The children of those who 
 moored their bark on our New England shore send out a shout 
 of welcome to the heroic band. Brethren by the links of a 
 common humanity, they are ten times ours by the claim upon 
 our sympathy. As such, we wait with outstretched arms to 
 take them to our hearts. Let us take no sleep to our eyes, 
 nor slumber to our eyelids, till we have found a home for the 
 exiles in the breast of our own free country. From us they 
 shall have love, tenderness, and assistance. Here shall be 
 none to molest or make afraid, for they who wept and prayed 
 on Plymouth Rock 
 
 " Have left unstained what there they found 
 Freedom to worship God." 
 
 Say, when De Silva and his martyr band touch the soil of 
 America shall they not find a home ? A home, in whose bound- 
 less forests and human hearts the joys and sufferings of their 
 native isle shall together be forgotten ? A home where the 
 voice of prayer and the song of praise shall rise unchecked 
 to Heaven ? A home loved of man, and blest of God.
 
 KATE WESTON. 261 
 
 " Bless the boy, I shall live to see him President yet !" cried 
 Mr. Pufton, catching Mr. Jeremiah by the arm as he was 
 going out. " 'Pon my soul now, never dreamed of such a thing, 
 sir, couldn't have dreamed of it, sir. Where is he ?" 
 
 " Inside there," answered Mr. Clarence, " counting up the 
 subscriptions ; but where are you from, Pufton ? I'm right glad 
 to see you ; wait, let me take you to Mary and Jennie." 
 
 Mr. Pufton shook hands with Mrs. Terry and the Westons, 
 kissed Mary and Kate with as much ardor as though he had 
 been desperately in love with both of them, and fidgeted 
 woefully at Edward's detention with the Committee. " Kate, 
 you little rosebud, I haven't seen you in a year ; you are exclu- 
 sive, too exclusive altogether, shutting yourself up here in 
 Laconia so long. Bless me, you've grown lovelier every day ; 
 pardon me, Pufton's a privileged character, you know." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mary, laughing, " or we shouldn't be 
 always so delighted to see so egregious a flatterer." 
 
 " No my dear," he answered, glancing impatiently over to 
 Edward, " I never say anything but what I mean ;" then bow- 
 ing to Mrs. Weston, he added, " you know that ma'am, you 
 can't help knowing, ma'am." 
 
 At this moment Edward stepped away from the group that 
 surrounded the stage. Mr. Pufton was watching, and paddled 
 away fast as his little legs would carry him. 
 
 " My dear boy," he exclaimed, catching nervously at both 
 hands ; " the happiest day of my life ; you will be another 
 Webster yet, not the slightest doubt of it ; I'm proud of you ; 
 yes, proud as your own father there." 
 
 " Don't flatter me, Mr. Pufton ; it was a subject that might 
 well kindle feeling in the breast of a child of the Puritans. 
 Indeed, it would have been difficult to refrain from expressing 
 the feelings on such an occasion. But how came you here, 
 dear sir ? I didn't know you were in Laconia." 
 
 " Nor I wasn't till an hour ago, my boy, but I wouldn't 
 ha' missed that for fifty dollars, nor for five hundred either.
 
 262 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Expressing the feelings,' you say.' Yes, expressing the feelings, 
 that's it, sir," he continued, keeping tight hold of Edward's 
 hand, but addressing himself to Mr. Weston. " This boy's got 
 the heart, sir. Yes sir. The heart lies at the bottom of all true 
 oratory, sir. Noble' boy, sir. Heaven'll bless him, sir. You 
 know it, sir ; you can't help but know it, sir." 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Flip was awaiting them at the door. " Dr. 
 Clarence," he remarked in one of his blandest tones, " excuse 
 me for interrupting you ; I merely wish to extend to yourself, 
 your father, Mr. Weston, and your friend, Mr. Pufton I believe, 
 (bowing politely to that gentleman) an invitation in behalf of 
 Judge Reid and myself to partake of an oyster-supper in 
 the upper saloon. It is to-night reserved exclusively to our- 
 selves." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Edward, smiling, " we shall be happy 
 to do ourselves the honor, at least, I speak for myself," he 
 added quickly, glancing at Mr. Weston and his father. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Flip, for your good intention," answered 
 Mr. Jeremiah promptly; "but you know my opinion of Gamp 
 and his business, and if I could only enlist my son heart and 
 hand on my side of the contest, I think he might prove a 
 more efficient opponent than his old father." Mr. Weston 
 shook his head with a gentle " Friend Flip, I pray thee lead 
 not our boy here into the snare ; these things are not safe, 
 not safe." 
 
 It would have been strange if a young man with an ordinary 
 share of vanity had not felt considerably flattered by such an 
 honor from such a quarter. He did not notice the shadow 
 that flitted over the face of Kate, or the half-doubtful look of 
 his father as he accepted the invitation. " Excuse me, sir," 
 he said, as they descended the steps, " I will be with you in 
 half an hour." Mr. Pufton had gone in advance with Mr. 
 Jeremiah, and Mary was chatting something very earnestly to 
 Mr. and Mrs. Weston, so that Kate and Edward were left 
 to walk alone. " If you are going, you need not wait to walk
 
 KATE WESTON. 263 
 
 with me, but I wish you would not go," she said, pausing a 
 moment. 
 
 "Nonsense, Katie, you are a bigoted little lady," an- 
 swered Edward, drawing the small hand into his arm, "but 
 you didn't think I would miss going home with you ; you 
 know I care more for your society than fifty oyster-suppers. 
 We collected a hundred dollars, Kate, for the benefit of the 
 refugees." 
 
 "That is double what I expected," said Kate. "But 
 
 your eloquence" her voice chocked and she burst into 
 
 tears. 
 
 " Why darling, what is the matter ?" said he, looking down 
 at the sweet profile, lovelier in the soft moonlight, "I thought 
 you would be pleased to-night, because " 
 
 "Edward, dear Edward," she interrupted, with a sudden 
 burst of feeling. " Pleased ! how could I even hope that your 
 boyish eloquence, always before my pride and admiration, 
 would so surpass itself on this first occasion of a public dis- 
 play. When I saw stern men weep at your burning words, 
 and forgot even my Edward in the cause he was pleading, 
 pride, hope, fear, almost overpowered me." 
 
 " There, Katie," said Edward tenderly, " you are excited 
 with the subject now. How could I help being so at the 
 time ? You are trembling, not altogether from joy either, 
 I'm afraid," he added, as a fresh flood of tears gushed forth ; 
 " what is it, dearest, tell me?" 
 
 The young girl turned up her tearful face to his ; there was 
 such a restless, nervous agitation in her glance that it 
 astonished him. It was like a tempest on the placid bosom 
 of some lake whose waters we had deemed no winds could 
 lash into a storm. She did not speak for some minutes ; at 
 last with a strong effort she pressed back the tears. 
 
 " Edward," she commenced with a choking voice, that grew 
 calmer as she proceeded, "dearest Edward, forgive me; I 
 know it is unpleasant for you to hear what I am going to
 
 264 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 say, when you think I should use no words but those 
 of praise. It cannot give you more pain to hear than it will 
 give me to say anything that might trouble you. But it is 
 the very depth of iny love, Edward, that impels me to speak. 
 When I saw your eye kindle, and your bosom heave, when I 
 felt in common with all your audience, my whole soul borne 
 along in the current of your rushing feelings, when I gloried 
 in the subtle, resistless impulse which at that moment, would 
 have defied your powder and ours alike to quell ; at that very 
 instant I felt a pang, keen as an arrow, shoot through my 
 heart. Those very waves of impulse, sweeping to-night all 
 barriers' from the path of the sufferers, in w r hose behalf your 
 generous soul was so nobly roused will they not be a snare to 
 you in the path you are treading? Do you think the 'Prince 
 of the power of the air' will leave such talents to work 
 always good, good only? Is there not already some bait cast 
 daily in your way that you have no power to resist ? Do not 
 the young men with whom you associate lead you further 
 from the only true safety. Oh ! my own Edward, will you 
 not thrust aside the great enemy to such natures as yours. I 
 know, as though an angel had told me, that iron chains and 
 prison-bars would be but rotten cords beside the fetters that 
 strong drink will wind about you, if you do not declare eter- 
 nal war to its insidious influence." 
 
 She paused ; the clasp of her small hand had tightened on 
 his arm ; the eager voice, the tremulous step were appealing 
 to his heart almost as powerfully as those burning words. 
 He unloosed her hand, and held it soothingly in his own. 
 His face was very grave as they walked silently on together ; 
 he was thinking of the brilliantly-lighted room, the glowing 
 wine, the card-table, the spirited company whose very idol he 
 had come to be, and wondering to himself if the words of 
 Kate were true. He had felt before a secret inner conscious- 
 ness of the fascination these possessed for him dread of the 
 future, never. But now, like a prophet's words, those sweet
 
 KATE WESTON. 265 
 
 quivering tones sank into his heart, wakening doubt and mis- 
 trust of his own power of resisting evil. 
 
 The rest were far ahead of them now, so that they were 
 walking alone. Kate at length continued : " Edward, believe 
 me, none but those that buckle on the armor of salvation, and 
 keep their eye fixed steadfastly upon a Savior's image, can 
 resist successfully the temptations that lie around them. Oh, 
 Edward, ' look not upon the wine when it is red, when it 
 giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth itself aright ; for 
 at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an 
 adder.' " 
 
 For an instant she paused again, then suddenly arresting her 
 steps, she drew her arm from his, clasped her hands, and 
 raised her eyes to heaven : " Edward, never was the love of 
 woman purer, truer than mine. Nothing on earth but I would 
 sacrifice for you. But hear me ; by the moon and stars above 
 us, I would rather never look upon your face, or listen to your 
 voice again, than have you continue in the path you are tread- 
 ing now. My heart glories in your genius, as it sways to its 
 will the sympathies of others. But I would rather see you 
 stricken dumb for ever, than still exposed in such society as 
 lures you now. Promise me, Edward," she cried, again clasp- 
 ing his hand in both of hers, " you will leave them, you will 
 prove that you love me." 
 
 There was no hesitation in Edward's tone, although tears 
 filled his softened eyes, as he tenderly laid his arm around her, 
 and drew her on. " I will, Katie, can you doubt me ? Had 
 I known that your feelings were so intense upon this subject, 
 I would not have hesitated in giving up all for you. I do not 
 fear for myself, I think there is very little danger, but for 
 your sake, darling, you shall not be so pained again. To- 
 night my promise must be fulfilled, but after this I will never 
 accept such invitations." 
 
 They were by this time almost at Mr. Weston's door, and 
 were interrupted by Mary's running back to meet them. She 
 12
 
 266 KATE -WESTOX. 
 
 did not notice Kate's excited face and tearful eyes, but danced 
 up to Edward's side, crying gaily, " Well, now you are down 
 off your high stilts, I suppose you'll condescend to speak to 
 common people. Here, give me a good-night kiss ; my dear 
 little fat Mr. Pufton'll be desperately jealous if I don't hurry 
 on, for I told him but see here, Ned, isn't he going with 
 you ?" 
 
 "Certainly, I thought so," said Edward; "has he gone on?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, " but he's so fat it won't take me two 
 minutes to catch him up, and send him back. I suppose he 
 thought you cared enough about me to walk home with me, 
 and so I think you ought, but alas well," she said quickly 
 with a half pout, " come, give me a kiss, for I'm sure those 
 big bugs'll smother you with compliments, so that I actually 
 doubt if you come home alive. Good night Kate. Don't 
 you grow too vain now, Ned, you're nothing remarkable after 
 all." 
 
 The frolicsome girl kissed Edward and Kate energetically, 
 and flew off along the road, calling out, " Wait there, till I 
 send Mr. Pufton. No fear of his getting impatient, unless 
 you run away, Kate." 
 
 Kate led him a short distance into the garden. 
 
 They stood" together beneath a laburnum that scattered its 
 golden shower at their feet, while overtopping that, were the 
 spreading branches of a linden-tree, that grew just on the 
 other side the walk. " Edward," said Kate, now calmed to 
 her wonted earnest gentleness, " I have heard my father say 
 that tree was planted on the day you were born. You are 
 like it now, young, vigorous, unbent. I take your promise 
 here beneath its branches, and here I shall come every day, to 
 pray God that it may be faithfully kept ; that the tree crowned 
 with beauty in youth, may increase in strength and verdure 
 till a crown of glory shall hallow its age." 
 
 Edward pressed a kiss upon her cheek, " Good night, Kate. 
 The man must be a brute who would gratify a mere inclina-
 
 KATE WESTOX. 26'< 
 
 tion at the sacrifice of an angel's peace. You told me once 
 I did not know you. I did not know you. You have 
 astonished me ; I see before me a nobler prize than my high- 
 est aspirations could have hoped to win. God bless you, 
 darling." 
 
 He turned away and left her standing there ; she passed 
 quietly into the house, and slipped up to her chamber. Why, 
 in thinking over the words he had spoken, did a painful mis- 
 giving thrill her heart, spite of the joy she felt at his promise. 
 " / have no fear, but for your sake, Kate," rung still in her ear. 
 " Only for my sake," she murmured, " not for his own ? not 
 for the sake of Him whose blood was shed on Calvary ? then 
 he is not safe." 
 
 Edward walked away with Mr. Pufton, strangely absent, as 
 that gentleman thought, considering his own eagerness. His 
 mind was dwelling on that pure face, uplifted in the moon- 
 light, and on those eloquent words, so fraught with passionate 
 hope, and fear, and love ; gushing from a heart whose depth 
 he had never known, whose purity he had but half-conceived. 
 For that heart, he felt nerved to relinquish the society that 
 adored him ; the praise and honor lavished upon his head ; 
 the cup whose fascinating draught had already gained a 
 powerful hold upon his senses. All this for her. Alas ! 
 Edward, hadst thou no higher aim ? 
 
 The upper room of Gamp's establishment had been fitted 
 by the proprietor with an elegance very rarely equalled, even 
 in similar city resorts. Laconia embraced in its limited circles 
 a large proportion of select society, families of ample means 
 and cultivated taste, for whose gentleman members, the 
 younger portion particularly, the velvet carpets, plate-glass 
 mirrors, and fine plush lounges, were intended as a lure to 
 draw them from the retirement of country homes to the 
 excitement of the evening club, or the more dangerous card 
 party. 
 
 As Dr. Clarence and his friend entered the room they were
 
 268 KATE WESTON. 
 
 greeted by a full blaze of light, and a murmur of applause. 
 Mr. Pufton was formally introduced, and Judge Reid shook 
 hands, remarking, " You are welcome, sir, any friend of our 
 young friend is welcome to-night. We are quite proud of 
 him." 
 
 " So you ought, sir, yes, sir heart spoke out there, sir, 
 not always the heart that speaks in the court-room, sir, 
 or Senate, either, sir, the boy's got head and heart both, 
 sir." 
 
 Young Clarence had passed over to the other end of the 
 hall, to where Steele and young Eeid, now a half-way lawyer, 
 sat engaged in some argument. " Happy to thee you, Dr. 
 Clarence ; take a theat here. I Avath charmed with your 
 addreth thith evening. Indeed, I alwayth conthidered you a 
 geniuth." 
 
 " Good evening, Dr." said Steele, with a warm grasp of the 
 hand, " I congratulate you." 
 
 " Thank you," said Edward, seating himself, " but excuse 
 me, I have interrupted an agreeable conversation." 
 
 " "We were dithcuthing the propriety of card-playing, thir ; 
 Mithter Shteele thinkth it wrong, and hath retholved to 
 denounthe it in the Laconia Gathette." 
 
 " What, when not played for money ?" asked Clarence. 
 
 " Wait," said Mr. Steele, who, by the way, had laid aside 
 the tall shirt-collar and his bashfulness together, long before 
 he had emerged from college, "wait, and you'll see how 
 long cards will be played here without money. Do you 
 suppose that cunning Gamp ever took all this pains for 
 nothing?" 
 
 " You are probably right," said the young doctor, thought- 
 fully, " on that as well as your total abstinence views." 
 
 Mr. Reid elevated his eyebrows. " Mithter Thteele, can 
 you ecthpect thupport in thuch peculiar measures !" 
 
 " I have, I am sure, one or two supporters, even here, and 
 in the village many. My little paper has already been made
 
 KATE WESTON. 269 
 
 the medium for several stanch temperance men to advocate 
 their views." 
 
 " How strange it seems to me," said Edward, " that 
 you, who were, only three years ago, as bashful a fellow as 
 ever I saw, should so boldly stand out in the very front of the 
 battle now." 
 
 " Oh," said Steele, laughing, " I was a very fresh Green- 
 mountain boy, you know, and it took some time to wear off 
 the rust. I have also labored earnestly," he continued, in a 
 graver tone, " to cast aside anything that may lie between 
 me and the work that God has given me to do." 
 
 A slight shrug of the shoulders was the only answer Reid 
 vouchsafed ; the young doctor looked earnestly at him for a 
 minute, then exclaimed with emotion, " My dear Steele, I wish 
 I were like you !" 
 
 " And I wish I were like you !" answered the young editor, 
 with equal warmth. " If I had your talents and your heart 
 to support my principles, I could accomplish anything." 
 
 "Better go into partnerthip," said Reid, with a half- 
 sneer. " Thuch talents and thuch printhipleth shouldn't be 
 wathted." 
 
 Edward colored slightly, but Steele calmly answered, " If 
 I could persuade my friend to view things as I view them, I 
 should have no fear but he'd bring Laconia to its senses after 
 a while." 
 
 " I have respect for your sentiments, Steele, but really, I 
 think it would be labor in vain to attempt stemming such a 
 tide of popular feeling, as, in such a case, a man must always 
 encounter." 
 
 "Well," interposed Reid, with as much earnestness as he 
 was capable of assuming, "there come the oythterth; the 
 latht dish, I believe ; demme, I'm half thtarved, as the thay- 
 ing goes." 
 
 The supper-table was spread with the most exquisite tact, 
 the various methods in which the oysters were served being
 
 270 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 pronounced by the connoisseurs present exquisite superb, 
 capital. Wine and mirth flew around the table, while the 
 grave judges and lawyers laid aside their dignity, and joined 
 in the general jollity. Toasts and compliments enough to 
 have turned the head of a less sensible youth, were showered 
 upon Dr. Clarence and his maiden speech. 
 
 Mr. Pufton and his young friend walked home after the 
 supper in exuberant spirits, and each entertaining a very 
 exalted opinion of the other's powers. Mr. Pufton had, dur- 
 ing the evening, frisked about so delightedly, spoken such 
 witty little speeches, performed such comical little pantomimes, 
 and made himself generally so agreeable and amusing that he 
 had been, as he always was, set down as one of the cleverest, 
 noblest-hearted fellows in the world. Of Edward's perform- 
 ances, his admiration knew no bounds. " He would be 
 another Webster yet, or Clay not the slightest doubt of it." 
 The little gentleman even went so far in his excitement as to 
 invite himself to the White House in the event of President 
 Clarence coming into office. 
 
 As they again passed Squire Weston's house looking so 
 calm and peaceful in the moonlight, a half pang struck to 
 Edward's heart He knew that he was slightly intoxicated ; 
 slightly, for his first disgraceful lesson had taught him caution, 
 and he had learned to partake far more freely of wine than at 
 first, without noticing its effects. He felt and loved the eager 
 glow it had kindled within him ; the wild excitement, the 
 soaring fancy, linking itself almost to the spirit world. In the 
 consciousness that he did feel and love it, lay that sudden mis- 
 giving of his power to resist it's influence. But man, in the 
 pride of an unrenewed heart, tramples down the fear of peril ; 
 the next thought planted the foot more firmly, and made 
 the proud, beautiful lip curl scornfully at the remembrance 
 of his momentary weakness.
 
 KATE WESTON. 27l 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " AH, Clarence, my boy, how are you ?" said Edward on 
 the following day, as 'he entered the blind boy's chamber. 
 
 The sightless eyes turned eagerly towards him, and an 
 expression of joy passed over his face. " Oh ! I have been 
 wanting so to- have you here. It's so long since you came." 
 
 " Yes, Clarence, it is over a year now. I don't know when 
 I've been so long away before ; how you have grown ; you are 
 almost as tall as L" 
 
 " Yes," answered Clarence, with a sigh, " I shall be sixteen 
 years old next week. I feel so wretchedly to-day ; do you 
 think I shall ever be cured of these convulsions ! It almost 
 kills me to have them so dreadfully, and I'm so nervous after- 
 wards, oh dear !" 
 
 Edward looked pityingly at the pale, unhappy face. " Poor 
 Clarence ! I'm so sorry for you. Time alone can determine 
 certainly whether your disease is curable. But," he 'added, 
 in a more cheerful tone, " you are to forget all your troubles 
 while I am here. That's what I came for, you know." 
 
 " And it wasn't a trouble for you to come ?" he asked, anx- 
 iously. " Alice said so." 
 
 " Trouble, no ! I was very anxious to come. The only 
 reason I didn't come before was because my practice detained 
 me." 
 
 "Well, that was it. They said you would not want to 
 leave your patients to come to me." 
 
 " The patients may take care of themselves for a day or 
 two," said the young doctor, cheerfully, with a gentle
 
 272 KATE WESTON. 
 
 motion of the hand over the boy's shaded forehead. " I want 
 a little rest now and then ; and I'd rather come to see you, 
 my dear boy, than do anything else in the wide world." 
 
 The blind boy looked pleased. "Edward," he said " would 
 you just as lief I'd call you Edward yet ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Clarence, rather ; what is it ?" 
 
 " I was going to ask you to sit down here and let me feel 
 your face, if you have altered any." 
 
 Edward complied, while his young friend stood in front of 
 him, and passed his hands over his face. "You've had all 
 your curls cut off," he said, pausing abruptly at the forehead, 
 with a look of blank dismay. 
 
 "Yes," said Edward, laughing. "Why, Clarence, don't 
 look so shocked ; I'm not like Sampson ; my strength doesn't 
 lie in my hair." 
 
 " But you won't look half so pretty," said Clarence, depre- 
 catingly, passing his hand over the short wavy hair. 
 
 " Don't worry yourself, Clarence ; it won't stay cut very 
 long. A month will give me a chance to regain the charm." 
 
 " Oh, what splendid whiskers ! You've got whiskers. How 
 funny !" 
 
 " Clarence, I shall lose my identity if I stay in your hands 
 much longer. Don't you like me just as well with whiskers 2" 
 
 " Oh yes !" was the answer, " only " 
 
 "Only what?" 
 
 " Only somehow it seems as though you were a man now, 
 and I nothing but a boy ; I'm afraid you won't think so much 
 of me." 
 
 " Because my whiskers have grown. Ha ha ha ! Clar- 
 ence, you are a funny boy." 
 
 " No, that isn't exactly it, either," said the boy a little impa- 
 tiently. " But you have so many older associates now. Fm 
 afraid you'll forget me." 
 
 " Never !" said Edward, a tear starting to his eye. " You 
 have," he added, passing his arm affectionately round the
 
 KATE WESTON. 273 
 
 boy's shoulder, and drawing him down beside him, "you 
 have a tenderer claim to ray affections than any of my older 
 friends." 
 
 " Thank you, I'm sure," returned Clarence, drawing a sigh 
 of relief. " All my companions have become tired of me 
 since I was blind, I think. They scarcely ever come to see 
 me now, and when they do, they haven't any patience with 
 my helplessness and nervousness. But there, I hear mother 
 and Alice coming up stairs." 
 
 "You stole a march upon us all, Clary," cried his sister, 
 shaking hands with Edward. " How did you ever contrive to 
 take possession of the doctor without our knowing it ?" 
 
 " Don't lay it to Clary," said Edward. " I found the hall- 
 door open, and catching a glimpse of Clarence through the 
 door just at the head of the stairs, made bold to join him with- 
 out ringing." 
 
 " How much you have altered !" said Mrs. Ainslie. " The 
 last year has done more for you than the previous half-dozen." 
 
 " Oh, mother !" cried her daughter, " half a dozen is a good 
 many. I've had the privilege of seeing him, however, since 
 he commenced sporting that appurtenance to man's estate ; 
 vastly becoming," she added, smoothing down her own fair 
 cheeks with a mischievous glance at Edward's beard. 
 
 " But how are they all at Laconia ?" asked Mrs. Ainslie. 
 
 "All as well as usual," he answered. "Mrs. Weston talked 
 of coming in Avith me, but it is next to impossible for her to 
 muster sufficient resolution to leave home." 
 
 " We have been hoping for a visit from Kate," said Mrs. 
 Ainslie ; " but somehow she has absented herself for over a 
 year now." 
 
 " Which no doubt accounts for the absence of somebody 
 else," said Alice gravely. " For my part, I'm getting despe- 
 rate. By the way, didn't you bring me a letter from 
 Kate?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, I had almost forgotten it," said Edward, 
 12*
 
 274 KATE WESTON. 
 
 handing her a small package, that he took from his side 
 pocket. 
 
 The young girl danced away to her room in delight, to 
 read the precious epistle, while Clarence laid his head upon 
 Edward's shoulder, and seemed perfectly at ease. 
 
 The mother gave him an uneasy look. " Clarence, do you 
 feel unwell ?" 
 
 " No, mother, only a little tired ; how glad I am Edward is 
 here. He's going to tell me all ahout the cricket-match out 
 at Laconia, and the supper, and the Fourth of July celebration. 
 He doesn't get out of patience with mo as everybody else does." 
 
 " Clarence !" said his mother, reproachfully. 
 
 " I don't mean you, mother," said the boy quickly, " nor 
 Alice, but all the . boys. They v don't like to be bothered, 
 that's all." 
 
 " Don't you think Clarence has grown ?" said Mrs. Ainslie. 
 
 "Very rapidly," answered the young physician; "rather 
 too rapidly for his good." The eyes of both Edward and his 
 mother rested for an instant on his face, then involuntarily 
 met, and each read in the other's glance a death-knell to their 
 hopes. The white face with its shadowy lines of suffering on 
 cheek and brow, had totally changed its expression in the two 
 years of his illness. In place of the firm, yet gentle smile about 
 the lips, a nervous tremor indicative of pain and impatience 
 played continually about his mouth, and a frown just between 
 his eyebrows had taken the place of boyhood's early calm. 
 There was a short painful silence, interrupted by Clarence, 
 
 " Mother, can we have Father's horse this afternoon ? You 
 will take me out to ride, won't you, Edward 2" 
 
 " Perhaps Edward is otherwise engaged," said Mrs. Ainslie. 
 " Not at all," answered Edward, " it would afford me much 
 pleasure to go with you anywhere you like." 
 
 " I do love to ride so," said the boy, eagerly, " only when 
 John drives me, he goes so fast, and rides through such noisy 
 streets that I don't like it at all. I used to want to ride
 
 KATE WESTON. 275 
 
 just as fast as ever I could, but now it makes me nervous, 
 because I can't see where I'm going." 
 
 " Clarence, my son," said his mother, " I think you had bet- 
 ter lie down ; you look wearied." 
 
 " I will come with you," said Edward, looking earnestly at 
 the sightless eyes. The pupils were growing unnaturally 
 large, and a bright rose-color was flushing up into the pale 
 cheeks. He was hardly thrown upon his bed, when seized 
 with one of those paroxysms whose painful nature was so 
 much enhanced by the electric suddenness of their appear- 
 ance. With fingers working convulsively, teeth ground toge- 
 ther, eyes starting almost from their sockets, the unconscious 
 boy struggled to free himself from the firm hand of Dr. Cla- 
 rence. "I cannot hold him much longer," ejaculated the 
 latter quickly, as the convulsion increased in violence, "can 
 you call in help ?" 
 
 Alice flew down after the coachman, at the same time dis- 
 patching a servant for their family physician. 
 
 At the end of ten minutes, the usual duration of his par- 
 oxysm, Clarence seemed more violent than ever. Even his 
 young attendant, striving 'to calm the anxious mother, began 
 to be seriously alarmed, while John, at length losing all self- 
 possession, exclaimed half aloud, "He'll never come to he 
 was never so bad afore." Several minutes more elapsed before 
 there seemed any reaction. At one time he had nearly defied 
 the strength of both John and the doctor, but at length the 
 muscles began to relax, the pain to, abate, and a slight con- 
 sciousness to steal over the exhausted sufferer. For a few 
 moments he looked half vacantly about him, and then sank 
 down in a total stupor. 
 
 When Dr. Currer arrived, Mrs. Ainslie and Edward were 
 still rubbing the limbs of the patient, and using every 
 effort to arouse him to consciousness. The elder physician 
 approached the bedside, inquiring what had been the particu- 
 lars of his attack. They informed him of its unusual violence
 
 2*76 KATE WESTON. 
 
 and duration, and also of the remedies they had administered. 
 He said nothing, but gave him some drops of ammonia, and 
 continued in concert with the others for some minutes, endea- 
 voring to restore him by rubbing, chafing, and rolling him 
 gently from side to side. At length Clarence opened his eyes, 
 and moved his lips. Dr. Currer took from his pocket a vial 
 whose contents he emptied into a tumbler, mixed with water, 
 and immediately administered. It was some little time before 
 he felt warranted in leaving ; before he did so, however, he 
 sought a few moments' private conference with his younger 
 professional brother. 
 
 " This is a very tiying case, sir," said Edward, with moist 
 eyes. 
 
 " Very," answered Dr. Currer. " In all my practice, I have 
 never had one similar to it. There seems some peculiar con- 
 dition of the brain, rendered always worse by these convul- 
 sions." 
 
 " I presume," said Edward anxiously, " that you have little 
 hope of effecting a permanent cure." 
 
 " No no," said the physician, shaking his head, " this must 
 destroy him in a few years ; but it is our duty to alleviate his 
 sufferings. The course adopted to-day will never do. His 
 mother consulted me a few days ago on the subject, and I 
 consented to her keeping ardent spirits out of his way for a 
 trial. The trial has been made, and proved unsuccessful. He 
 could not survive many such attacks as that." 
 
 "You think, then, that no stimulus but that would produce 
 sufficient effect ?" remarked Edward. 
 
 " Not now," was the answer. " It might have been pre- 
 vented in the outset. It was not originally administered at my 
 suggestion, you recollect ; it proved successful, and although 
 I had misgivings, I continued its use." 
 
 " I should think then," suggested Edward, " it would be 
 advisable to restrain him from taking it at any other time 
 than when threatened with a paroxysm."
 
 KATE WESTON. 277 
 
 " Certainly, you are right," answered Dr. Currer, " but Low 
 difficult in any case for such a habit to be overcome, and in 
 no case so difficult as this, where the stimulus is not only 
 craved but actually needed." 
 
 So Clarence went on. in his old way, suffering not from his 
 disease alone, but from the fearful inroads made by strong 
 drink upon his temper and constitution. Growing every 
 day more unreasonable and violent, suffering constantly from 
 extreme nervous irritation, and craving, as time wore on, a 
 stimulus more and more powerful, he became in a few years 
 totally changed from the gentle, earnest Clarence of earlier 
 years. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of. the following day, Edward and 
 Clarence returned from their afternoon drive. The blind boy 
 safely deposited in the house, Edward turned to watch his 
 horses for a moment, until John should make his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 It was quite dark now, and the side-walk was filled with 
 passengers passing to their respective homes, so that he did 
 not notice at first a stout woman who was sitting on the 
 steps next door, talking and laughing with a little child. As 
 he leaned carelessly upon the railing, she rose and approached 
 him, saying, as she extended her broad hand, " God bliss yer 
 honor, an' how did ye lave all the folks in Laconia !" 
 
 " Ah ! Bridget," rejoined Edward, smiling, as he returned 
 her hearty shake, "you here? All as well as usual, I 
 believe; I saw Kitty and the children a day or two ago, 
 and when I drove by the house yesterday I saw somebody 
 turning somersets on the meadow, so " 
 
 " Och, yes sir, an' Mike will niver lave alone doin' that 
 same, if he grows as big as the Giant of Fincool," laughed 
 Bridget ; " but how's your father an' all the family, and Miss 
 Kate, bliss her swate face, intirely ?" 
 
 " All well, I thank you," answered Edward, turning, as if 
 to leave her.
 
 278 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Plase, sir," she said quickly, " an' I've got a little kindness 
 I'll be afther axin' you, an' all along iv remimberin' how 
 good yer honor was to poor Ann Ryker a couple o' years 
 ago. Poor Ann ! sorra's the way she's getting along now ; 
 but as I was afther sayin', it's yerselfll mind the poor woman 
 whose child you was good enough to take out to your sister 
 in Laconia. Shure, an' meselPd niver know her, at all at 
 all, only she met me one day in the street, when there was 
 nobody forninst us, an' didn't she catch ho wit of my hand, 
 an' kiss it, saying, all the time, ' God'll bless bless you 
 bless you. You was kind to Maggie, God will bless you.' 
 Faith an' I think the woman's been a lady some day, she has 
 such a grand way, intirely; but she seems a sort o' crazy 
 now, an' dhrinks too much of the crathur ; but, axin' your 
 pardon, sir, as I was a sayin', she walks up straight forninst me 
 this afthernoon, looMn' as wild-like, an' she sez to me, ' Brid- 
 get,' sez she, ' you've got a kind heart, and I want you ; there's 
 
 somebody sick at Elm street. She's very sick, an' she's 
 
 got no friends. I want you to sit up with me, an' take care 
 of her to-night ; can you ?' Thim's jist the words she said, 
 sir, an' so orderly-like that I didn't say a word, but, ' Shure, 
 ma'am, an' I'll ax to come the minute Ettie's asleep.' She 
 was going away, but she turned back again, an' said, ' Brid- 
 get, it's somebody you've seen before, so you musn't be fright- 
 ened. Now I think, can't you bring a doctor with you ? come 
 early, and bring a doctor if you know of any.' Jist whiniver 
 she said that same, she turned round, pulled down her vail, 
 an' walked off like a queen. She's very quare, intirely," con- 
 tinued Bridget, in an apologetic tone, "but if yer honor 
 would" 
 
 " Ob, I'll go with you Biddy," said Edward, glad of the 
 opportunity to see again, and if possible, reclaim the strange 
 wild being, in whose child he was now so deeply interested. " I 
 shall be glad if I can be of any service. When do you want 
 to go ?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 279 
 
 " About eight o'clock, sir, if you plaze. I should like to 
 go airly." 
 
 " Very well, stop for me then,and I'll be ready ; goodnight, 
 Ettie," said Edward, kissing his hand to the smiling little girl, 
 as he disappeared inside the door.
 
 280 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A BRIGHT fire glowed in the grate, but there was no cheer 
 in it. The gaslight was streaming away over velvet chairs, 
 silken curtains, Turkey carpets, statues and pictures, that 
 seemed every moment starting into life ; but the gaslight 
 could not reach down into the ruined soul of that gray-haired 
 man; the faint light of conscience, years ago almost 
 quenched within him, was bringing out to his mental sight, 
 mountains of unrepented guilt, looming up in gloomy relief 
 all through the sinning and suffering past. 
 
 It was three years since he had disowned his daughter. 
 He had wandered from place to place, striving to forget that 
 she was, may be, suffering for his love, or even for his aid. 
 Three several times he had received a note, on whose envelope 
 he could trace too well the delicate hand that .penned his 
 name, and each time he had committed the harmless little 
 missile to the flames. Poor man ! did he hope, that, at last, 
 Pride, so long invoked, would wash out all memory of his 
 sins, and fill up full the void unanswered Love had made ? 
 
 Hark, a foot passed quickly up the steps, a sudden ring 
 at the door ; he listened attentively, half-glad at any inter- 
 ruption. When the front door was opened he heard a female 
 voice, and in an instant after a peremptory step passed along 
 the hall ; the door opened, closed, and a vailed figure stood 
 against it. She threw back her vail. What, in that 
 wretched, haggard face, sent the blood curdling to his heart ? . 
 He neither rose nor spoke. Those wild fierce eyes wandered 
 over the room, and then fell again upon his face, as though 
 they would scorch his soul. At length she spoke.
 
 KATE WESTON. 281 
 
 "A palace for the father what for the child? I shall 
 have my revenge. George Dunn, I came to call you to your 
 daughter ; no, not I, but Death. I see in your paling cheek 
 that you know me, but / am nothing now, for DEATH calls 
 you ; your daughter is dying in a wretched garret, and 
 dying by your hand ; if you would see her alive, come with 
 me." 
 
 Then all was over ; but he paused. " You are deceiving 
 me," he said. "I know not how you came here, but you 
 have some purpose of your own to accomplish. You know 
 nothing of of my child." 
 
 She spoke not as a woman speaks, but with a stern com- 
 mand in look and tone. " Your daughter is dying of starva- 
 tion and exposure ; come with me, or you will never see her 
 more." 
 
 Mr. Dunn rose without a word, and passed out with her. 
 She walked rapidly and silently, but with a firm tread, while 
 his steps tottered, and his heart grew chill. At length she 
 stopped at a miserable dwelling in Elm street, entered the 
 hall, passed up two pair of rickety stairs to a garret room, 
 with bare floor, and blackened roof. His conductor did not 
 hesitate, but walked straight in, and up to a miserable pallet 
 where a female figure lay. She stooped, touching the white 
 forehead with her lips, and turned relentlessly to her fol- 
 lower, "You are too late;" then, addressing Edward and 
 Bridget, who sat at the bed-side, she added, " I did not think 
 she could fail so soon." 
 
 " No," said Edward, glancing uneasily at the ashen face of 
 Mr. Dunn, " I did not think so either, but a violent spasm, 
 just after you left, seemed to take all her remaining 
 strength." 
 
 No one spoke again for some minutes ; the father, suddenly 
 removed from his luxurious couch in the magnificent man- 
 sion, stood in the dark, cold garret, gazing speechlessly upon
 
 282 KATE WESTON. 
 
 a sunken face and rigid figure, to which he would have called 
 one hour's life at the price of all his wealth. 
 ' "George Dunn," at length said the woman, with forced 
 composure, "when you lured me to my destruction, and 
 deceived me with a mock marriage, when you witnessed my 
 despair at its discovery, when I passed from your roof to irre- 
 trievable ruin, do you remember the last words with which I 
 addressed you ' God and your own heart will be my 
 avengers P 
 
 " You did not think then, nor when you thrust away from 
 you for ever the child whose first error lay in learning the 
 lesson taught by you, that after that child should be an out- 
 cast from every home and heart, mine should be the hand to 
 take her to my home ;" here she glanced around the wretched 
 room, " mine the heart to sympathize and weep, mine the 
 voice to soothe with gentle words the spirit broken with 
 anguish and neglect. Years ago I loved your child ; not- 
 withstanding the hard crust of pride and folly you had laid 
 upon her heart, I knew there was a fount of love beneath. I 
 never ceased loving her. Three days ago, when I found her 
 lying senseless in the street at midnight, with the fierce storm 
 sweeping over her uncovered form " 
 
 " Have mercy mercy !" groaned the father, sinking upon a 
 chair. 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy ! Did you have mercy when I knelt at 
 your feet, and prayed you, not that I loved you, but for the 
 sake of my own innocent child and my dying mother, to give 
 me the name of wife ? Did you have mercy when you laid 
 for Lester Morris the snare that dragged him to the grave? 
 Did you have mercy when you received, time after time, from 
 your own, your only child, prayers for your love and pardon. 
 She had sinned slightly; you, how deeply, God and your 
 heart alone can tell. She married a gambler and drunkard ; 
 from step to step she has been sinking lower, lower, until at
 
 t 
 
 KATE WESTON. 283 
 
 length, her second still-born babe laid her, one week ago, upon 
 a bed from which she never rose, save to be dragged by her 
 drunken husband from beneath the wretched roof that covered 
 her, out into the raging storm, and left to perish in the open 
 street. It was there I found her, lying as motionless as she is 
 lying now ; I took her to my home," and the speaker glanced 
 again at the desolate abode. "All night long I labored to 
 bring her back to life and consciousness ; she revived at length, 
 but I knew that she was dying, and I would not go for you, 
 that you might be comforted in this bitter hour that I knew 
 must come, with thoughts of tardy justice rendered, and par- 
 don whispered by lips that were chilling fast in death." 
 
 " You can remember when I, too, wept the dead ; when 
 the cold sod lay fresh upon my murdered husband and my 
 darling boy ; when the cruel world of my happier days shut 
 me out from their sympathy." Here there was a sud- 
 den break in the speaker's voice, as though she would have 
 stopped, but she pressed both hands upon her heart, and con- 
 tinued, " I knew not then that you had instigated the murder 
 of my husband for your own base ends " 
 
 " Mary, you wrong me there," gasped her wretched listener, 
 " I shrank in horror from the " 
 
 " Then why," interrupted his accuser, with a convulsive 
 sneer, " after you had so long plotted to drag down the husband, 
 that the loving wife might be left with no fitting protector 
 from your villainy, did you not shrink in horror from heaping 
 shame upon the defenceless widow and her innocent child ? 
 Why did you welcome me to your roof, lure me on with the 
 cheering wine to forget husband, mother, brother, until I 
 consented to become your wedded wife. Then did you dare 
 deceive me with a hollow form, and so ruin me, thinking that 
 your reward would never come. You have it now in this 
 world ; you shall have more beyond. Said I not truly that 
 God and your own heart would be my avengers ?" 
 
 The woman stopped speaking, for the face of her powerless
 
 284 KATE WE6TON. 
 
 listener grew fearfully pale. Edward sprang forward, but 
 before he readied his side the man of the world had fallen 
 forward in a swoon upon the floor. 
 
 A few weeks afterwards all Mr. Dunn's splendid carpets and 
 curtains, statues and pictures were sold at public auction by 
 his nearest relatives, some second or third cousins whom he 
 had scarcely ever seen. Now, when years have passed away, 
 there still wanders a fine-looking, gray-haired man up and 
 
 down the long corridors of B- 's Lunatic Asylum, talking 
 
 always in an uridertone of Mary and his child. The keepers 
 say that he is harmless, except during violent storms. Then 
 he tries by persuasion, entreaty, force, to obtain egress from 
 his prison, crying aloud on Mary to show him where his 
 daughter lies. 
 
 God and their own hearts have been, and still must be, the 
 avengers of men like him.
 
 KATE WESTON. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 LETTER FROM ALICE TO KATE. 
 
 " BLESS you Katie darling ! I can imagine you sitting so 
 demure in that old-fashioned chimney-corner, working away 
 at those everlasting little linsey-woolsey frocks, while your 
 mother every now and then looks complacently over her spec- 
 tacles at the fairy opposite. Verily, Kate, if ever there was 
 an angel, you are one. I don't believe there is a poor family 
 within five miles of you that you don't know by heart. I 
 should die in a week running round to all those horrible 
 places ; I never recovered the fright of our interview with 
 Kelly's wife, and his bursting in so furiously just as we were 
 going. If there's anything on earth I'm afraid of, it's an intoxi- 
 cated man. I'm sure I'd rather meet a wild beast any time. 
 But you ! Well, you have more self sacrifice than I. Do you 
 remember Louise Kepler ; you are just like her, mea caris- 
 sima. I told Edward yesterday it really did seem such a pity 
 that he should have stepped in to spoil one of the greatest 
 philanthropists living. Apropos of philanthropists, Sophronia 
 and her husband, who have set up for philanthropists you 
 know, have issued a small pamphlet on Woman's Rights, that 
 is making quite a stir ; some of our city papers have taken up 
 the arguments and put a very plausible face upon them. I 
 confess that I should be far more easily influenced if I knew 
 less of the authors. I bother them sometimes by making all 
 sorts of fun of their Woman's Rights Association, and express- 
 ing my surprise at the masculine grace of the present Presi-
 
 286 KATE WESTON. 
 
 lent. Cousin Sophy, who has become her devoted satellite, 
 treats my astonishment and ridicule with queenly scorn. 
 ' Alice,' she said this morning with an ominous shake of all 
 the bugles in her head-dress, ' Alice, you will really excite my 
 anger if you persist in traducing that lofty-spirited woman. 
 Do you suppose that any private consideration would inter- 
 fere with her public duties ? She sees too many instances of 
 the gross injustice displayed towards unprotected women, to 
 allow inclination precedence to duty.' 
 
 " I did not want to hurt her feelings, but I couldn't help 
 thinking she'd been taking lessons of that charming Miss 
 Secretary Tolput, and longing to tell her .so, she looked so 
 comical. Unprotected women, forsooth ! I should like to 
 hear her opinion of injustice to unprotected babies ; for I'm 
 sure if it wasn't for Bridget that lady president's little Ettie 
 would have been dead long ago. 
 
 "Well Katie, are you ready to come to my wedding 1 Don't 
 be jealous now, that we are ahead of you. Arthur's salary 
 has been raised to $2,000 a year, and before long he intends 
 entering business for himself. We are to commence house- 
 keeping immediately, though I declare I can't imagine what's 
 to come of mother when I'm gone ; she's had such a hoyden 
 to manage for so many years that I'm morally certain she 
 won't know how to employ her time when I'm gone. I often 
 wonder what ever possessed such a dignified, sedate young 
 man to fall in love with me. I don't knowyupon the whole, 
 that it is any stranger than my falling in love with him. I 
 never could bear serious people ; mother thinks it's all provi- 
 dential, and tells me if I were to marry such another rattle- 
 brain as myself, we should chatter one another to death in six 
 months, a sad sequel to my history. Oh dear, it makes me 
 sigh ! 
 
 " I got a secret out of Aunt Sophy the other day, on condi. 
 tion that I wouldn't tell it to any gentleman. She told me 
 that she loved Mr. Pufton dearly the first time he ever offered
 
 RATE WESTON. 287 
 
 himself to her, when she was only seventeen. And she said, 
 (now you mustn't tell Edward) that she would not marry a 
 rumseller. ' Why, auntie,' said I, ' wouldn't he give up his 
 business for your sake ?' 
 
 " ' I never asked him,' she answered. 
 
 " ' Well now, Aunt Sophy,' cried I, ' if that wasn't strange ; 
 if I loved any one I'm sure I would influence them to do right, 
 even although they cared nothing for me, but when' 
 
 " ' Well Alice,' interrupted Aunt Sophy with a smile, ' you 
 know I am a little peculiar. The fact is, I would not give 
 'two straws for a man's change under such circumstances ; 
 principle alone is principle, and I could never marry a man 
 whose principles were not opposed to spreading death and 
 ruin all over the world.' 
 
 " ' Well, auntie,' said I, ' you are the closest-mouthed woman 
 I ever knew ; if I thought just so, I'd tell Mr. Pufton up and 
 down, and fight a regular pitched battle every time I met 
 him.' 
 
 " ' I am not certain that I do right,' said Aunt Sophy doubt- 
 fully, ' but I cannot be so open-hearted ; it's not my nature ; 
 besides, it would be a very delicate subject for me to discuss 
 with him, I don't think I could make the attempt.' 
 
 " Aunt Maylie is such a strange woman. Nobody can help 
 loving her with that quiet dignified smile playing about her 
 mouth ; and yet sometimes you're almost afraid of her, when 
 she looks at you so. She has looked my folly out of counte- 
 nance oftener than I can begin to remember, but I know she 
 loves me just as well, after all. 
 
 "But about this wedding: you are to be bridesmaid of 
 course. It is to come off at New Year's, and I intend to cut 
 such a dash ; the idea of settling down into a long-faced, 
 every-day old lady doesn't suit me at all. I'm going to be just 
 as lively as ever, spite of mother, auntie and all. You know 
 me, Kate, or you'd surely think me twice as bad as I am, but 
 I have no doubt that you think, with all the rest, that I shall
 
 288 KATE WESTON. 
 
 get effectually sobered, by and by. Don't you believe it ! 
 if I don't bring down somebody's dignity now and then, far 
 enough to frolic and laugh with me, I'm confident I shouldn't 
 be fulfilling half my mission. 
 
 " But Kate, here I've run on just in my random way, when 
 the thoughts of my poor brother should have made me sober. 
 Dear Clarence has been very ill again, as Edward will tell 
 you ; he seems to-day again as well as usual, but he is a great 
 sufferer. Write to me soon, and let me know how soon you 
 will be here, and whether your own wedding is to bo deferred 
 later than next spring. Mother and all join in love to your 
 father, mother, and yourself. Good-bye then, dear Kate. Be 
 sure to write soon to your own 
 
 "ALICE. 
 
 " P. S. Tell Rosy that she is not to forget to come down to 
 make my wedding-cake."
 
 KATE WESTOX. 289 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 " WELL, Mary, are you ready for a walk ?" said Kate, enter- 
 ing the long sitting-room of Mr. Clarence ; " pouting, as I 
 live ; pray what has come over the spirit of your dream ?" 
 
 " Oh !" answered Mary, with a peevish sob, " father does 
 get such ridiculous notions in his head ; here I've had an invi- 
 tation to one of the finest parties and I mustn't go, forsooth, 
 because they drink wine, or play cards, or waltz there, one or 
 the other, I'm sure I don't know which, and I don't believe 
 father does either." 
 
 "You wouldn't enjoy yourself much there, Mary," answered 
 Kate, " laying her soft hand upon the frowning forehead ; " I 
 received an invitation, but have not the slightest desire to go." 
 
 " Well, it's different with you," pouted Mary ; " you never 
 care for anything but going to church, and being good, I 
 believe. I like a little fun once in a while, but I must be 
 kept mewed up here just like a prisoned bird, and it's been 
 twice as bad since Ned went away ; he used to smuggle me 
 off sometimes." 
 
 "I didn't know he was so wicked," said Kate, laughing, 
 " but really, Mary, I don't think you need take this so much 
 at heart; you and I can practice the new music Edward 
 brought us, and" 
 
 " Oh, fiddlestick on the new music !" ejaculated Mary ; 
 " what under the sun's the use of practicing music, if we can't 
 go anywhere to .play it ; just after I had my new buff crape 
 made up, too ; I declare it's too bad !" and the aggrieved 
 young lady burst into a fresh shower of tears. 
 
 13
 
 290 KATE WE8TOX. 
 
 " Come now, Mary," said Kate,, coaxingly, " nothing will 
 make you forget your troubles so soon as a ramble through 
 the fields in this bracing air ; you promised me you'd go if I 
 came up after you." 
 
 " I don't care a straw about going," said Mary with a pettish 
 little toss of the head. " Laconia's a dull place enough with- 
 out going . out every day, as you do, to be reminded of it 
 We might walk from here to the other .end of the village, and" 
 not meet half-a-dozen people." 
 
 " But I want you along to keep me company," persisted 
 Kate ; " if it is so dull I'm sure you won't condemn me to 
 walk alone ; then you mustn't break your promise, either." 
 
 "If .you really want me to go with you, I'm sure I shan't 
 break my promise," said Mary, rising to leave the room, " but 
 I'm sure I'd rather not go," she added, rather ungraciously. 
 
 Kate knew well enough that her walk might do her good 
 in more ways than one, and suffered her to prepare herself, 
 notwithstanding her apparent unwillingness. 
 
 "What in the world are you lugging that great basket 
 for ?" asked Mary, as they sallied from the door. 
 
 " I'm only going to run up to Kitty Toole's with some little 
 cloaks I've been making for the children ; poor thing, she 
 doesn't have a chance to do anything for them now." 
 
 " Well, for my part," cried Mary, who was still wincing from 
 the effect of her ill temper, " I'm exactly of Ned's opinion. I 
 think if people become drunkards, they've got no one to 
 blame but themselves ; and as for that good-for-nothing 
 Teddy, I should like to see him just put somewhere that he 
 wouldn't be impoverishing his own family, and making work 
 for other people." 
 
 Kate sighed. " Mary, I think if you had seen as much of 
 them lately as I have, you wouldn't think so hardly of poor 
 Teddy, after all. He isn't very powerful to resist temptation, 
 I admit, but " 
 
 "I haven't a particle of patience with him," interrupted
 
 KATE WESTON. 291 
 
 Mary ; " he's done nothing but drink for over two years ; 
 father kept him just as long as he could, but he had to let 
 him go at last, and I really believe his family would have 
 starved this last winter -if it hadn't been for father." 
 
 " Well, well, Mary, you shall see," said Kate, " what you 
 think after you go there to-day ; you haven't seen them in 
 some months, have ycu ?" 
 
 " Not since spring," said Mary. " It's such a long walk up 
 there ; I generally send something by Eben Jones once or 
 twice a week ; I'm sure I can't conceive what possesses you 
 to toil away up there so often through the burning sun ; I'm 
 positive I couldn't stand it." 
 
 " I think," answered her companion, " that my sympathy 
 does Kitty more good than what I give her." 
 
 " Oh, do you suppose such people care much about sym- 
 pathy ?" asked Maiy, with just the slightest curl of the 
 lip. 
 
 " Why not ?" asked Kate. " Do you suppose they do not 
 feel?" 
 
 "No," was the reply, "not exactly that, but I imagine 
 pretty much all their professions are for the sake of what 
 effect they may have upon those who are foolish enough to be 
 taken in by them." 
 
 " Oh, Mary, how can you say so ?" asked Kate. " Where 
 have you learned such opinions? I'm sure your father doesn't 
 think so, nor Edward either." 
 
 " That's because father's got such a tremendous organ of 
 credulity, that he'd let anybody run all over him, if they told 
 a good big story, and Ned's just such another soft-head." 
 
 "Did you think so the other night at the town hall?" 
 asked Kate with a sly smile. 
 
 For the first time since they started, Mary's face mellowed 
 into a smile. " Oh, Ned can let his tongue run as glib as glass 
 when he gets interested, but of one thing I am certain, he 
 has a soft spot somewhere about his heart, eh, Katie 2"
 
 292 KATE WESTON. 
 
 If there was any one thing for which Mary had a parti- 
 cular fancy, it was teasing somebody when she was certain of 
 being successful ; the flush that mounted to the face of her 
 young companion was vastly encouraging, so she continued- 
 " I'm out of patience with that silly boy, for actually since he 
 went down to the village we see scarcely anything of him. I 
 suppose he has so much business on hand ahem." 
 
 " Certainly," said Kate, rallying, " I suppose his business is 
 more pressing, now he has taken an office in the village ; it 
 was very inconvenient for people to come away up to your 
 house after him." 
 
 " And yet I fancy he finds time to run up to see a certain 
 demure little blue-eyed maiden ; at least, so says report,'' 
 laughed Mary, untying her hat, and swinging it on her arm. 
 
 " Nonsense, Mary !" said Kate, quickly, " you have wandered 
 from our subject, we were talking about the power of resist- 
 ing temptation." 
 
 " To be sure we were," said Mary ; " but what's the use of 
 arguing with you ? you always come out right in the end, so 
 that I might as well give up first as last. What a pleasant 
 shady lane this is ; I can't bear a hat on here." 
 
 " Nor I either," said Kate, also removing her hat, " and the 
 view from the hill at the end is the finest in the neighbor- 
 hood." 
 
 " If I were going to be married now," said Mary, " I should 
 like of all things to have a little cottage right in among these 
 trees ; it's so romantic ; don't you think so ?" 
 
 " Delightful," answered her companion. " I've often won- 
 dered why there were not more houses built here. That old 
 gable-roofed concern is the only one about." 
 
 "And that detestable Gamp lives there," said Mary. 
 "There's something in that man's eye that makes me shud- 
 der ; didn't you ever notice it, Kate ?" 
 
 " Yes, I never admired his looks, certainly ; I should be half- 
 afraid to speak to him, I think. Strange, it seems to me, that
 
 KATE WESTON. 293 
 
 the gentlemen of our village should have patronized such a 
 man at all." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, Kate ; men don't see anything ; I believe 
 women have a little something extra here," and Mary touched 
 her forehead " that makes them see ; why I can see straight 
 through and through some people that father and Ned know 
 nothing at all about." 
 
 Kate smiled as she answered ; " Well, if I haven't thought 
 that same thing now, a hundred times ; I don't quite agree 
 with you that men don't see anything; but there are some 
 few matters of vast importance to the whole world that I'm 
 sure would have been set right long ago, if women had been 
 permitted to handle them. Take, for instance, the manufac- 
 ture of ardent spirits ; how long would it have been stopped 
 pushed down and kept down. I wish we had it in hand for 
 a while." 
 
 "Bless me, Kate, you go to the very root of the matter. 
 My philanthropy never shot beyond moral suasion, and the 
 poor inebriates themselves ; and not very often beyond their 
 wives and children ; why, that couldn't be done !" 
 
 " Well, I'm sure it will be done some day, Mary. Why 
 not? It's worse to sell rum than to gamble, does more 
 harm." 
 
 " Oh, Kate, you don't mean so ; look at Mr. Pufton ; our 
 darling little Pufton ; nobody could call him bad." 
 
 "He labors under a great error, Mary. If you don't 
 think selling rum is productive of more harm than gambling, 
 just notice everything you see during our walk to-day, and see 
 if you think so still." 
 
 " Here we are coming right upon the lion's den," cried 
 Mary, laughing, as they approached a dismal-looking old 
 house ; " it'll be hardly safe to talk upon such dangerous sub- 
 jects here, for I'm positive that man is double-eared as any 
 Jesuit going." 
 
 " And double-tongued, too," said Kate with a sigh. " He
 
 294 KATE WESTON. 
 
 draws a good many into the net, that would be safe enough 
 if his greed of gain could be satisfied with letting them 
 alone." 
 
 It so happened, that just as the young ladies passed the 
 house, Mr. Gamp himself was sitting before a table at one of 
 the second story windows, conning over some old papers 
 that he had taken from a dusty box beside him. Five 
 or six lay scattered over the table, while he continued draw- 
 ing more from the box, intent upon perusing their contents. 
 The door was just ajar, and a sudden gust of air blew it open. 
 He rose hastily to secure it, not noticing that the same breeze 
 had swept an open letter out at the window. He reseated 
 himself immediately, renewing his occupation. 
 
 " What is that ?" said Mary, as the letter caught her eye ; 
 " a letter, Kate ; let's see who's lost a letter." 
 
 " Father Benson," exclaimed Kate, as she looked over 
 Mary's shoulder. 
 
 " Rev. Mr. William Benson, Laconia, New York." Mary 
 read slowly, adding jestingly, " I suppose there's no harm in 
 reading it ; you'd think somebody had put it there on purpose, 
 lying so wide open." 
 
 " Oh, I wouldn't read it," said Kate instinctively, laying her 
 hand on the letter. 
 
 " You're not so old-maidish now!" cried Mary, half-laughing 
 half-blushing. " I shall read it though ; if it were for any- 
 body but old Father Benson, I might be a little punctilious, 
 too ; but I know he'd read every letter he ever had to any- 
 body." 
 
 " Why the letter's dated at sea, twelve years ago," she 
 cried ; " how strange ! Come, Kate, let's sit down here on 
 the grass and rest while I read it." 
 
 " Let us walk on slowly, Mary, a little further ; there's a 
 fine resting-place just on the hill above, where poor Father 
 Benson used to sit and watch the boats as they came up the 
 river, fancying that every one was bringing home his boy."
 
 KATE WESTOX. 295 
 
 They sauntered along, Mary glancing over the closely 
 written sheet, and Kate recalling the image of the bereaved 
 father, sitting day after day upon the green hill, waiting for 
 the coming of one that all others believed no more among 
 the living. 
 
 "This must have been one of the last letters he ever 
 received from him," said Mary, as she finished its perusal. 
 " The -son writes that he has been ill at sea, and is weary of a 
 sailor's life; that he .has lost his wife during the previous 
 month, but feels thankful that his little boy is so strong and 
 well. Poor fellow, he seems sorry enough for his wild follies. 
 I've heard the poor old gentleman tell, over and over, every 
 particular connected with his child, until I feel as though I 
 had known him myself. Oh ! how beautiful !" she exclaimed 
 enthusiastically, as they suddenly emerged from the woods, 
 and the blue river, rolling majestically along between the 
 world-famed Hudson highlands, burst upon their view. 
 
 " Beautiful indeed !" said Kate, turning into an open 
 field ; " come here a little way, Mary, and we'll rest a few 
 minutes." 
 
 They passed a short distance around the grove they had 
 just quitted, ascended a slight eminence, and both stood for a 
 few minutes without speaking. Immediately before them lay 
 a long ravine, whose luxuriant woods were clothed in all the 
 glories of an American autumn ; hills covered with ever- 
 greens, and dotted only here and there by a crimson maple 
 or a yellow birch, stretched away on either side ; and there 
 far below them the glorious Hudson swept onward, bearing 
 upon its breast the children of the waters, from the skiff swell- 
 ing its white sails in the fresh breeze, to the stately steamer 
 walking the waters " like a thing of life ;" far to the north 
 the blue Catskills rested in their silent grandeur against the 
 horizon, while the gorgeous clouds of more than an Italian 
 sky overarched them all, as though exulting in their quiet 
 beauty.
 
 290 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 "It seems strange," sighed Kate, "that any sorrow can 
 enter such a beautiful world." 
 
 Mary dropped in a half reclining posture upon the sward. 
 " This is such a spot," she said, " as we often dream of, but 
 seldom see ; I don't know how I could have been so long 
 without visiting it ?" 
 
 " Isn't it because you think more of parties and dresses, and 
 less of nature than you did when you and I were children, 
 Mary ?" said Kate frankly, laying her hand on Mary's 
 head. 
 
 The color flushed into Mary's cheek ; the remark recalled 
 the thought of her disappointment, quite forgotten in the 
 pleasure of her ramble. " I don't see any reason for shutting 
 oneself out from all society ; young people need excitement. 
 I like everything spirited and wild. Wouldn't it be splendid 
 now to see a fierce thunder-storm sweep over this land- 
 scape ?" 
 
 " Magnificent !" said her companion ; " such an one as 
 Byron describes among the Alps." 
 
 " I can imagine it now," said Mary ; " the sky black with 
 clouds, those woods swept by the rushing winds, the vessels 
 yonder pitching and rolling in the waves, while the 'live 
 thunder ' burst around them, and the lightning played among 
 their sails, perhaps folding them in a sheet of flame." 
 
 " But what would become of the poor mariners ?" asked 
 Kate ; " the storm would be less welcome to them." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mary, " such a scene would be dearly 
 purchased." 
 
 For some minutes Mary lay watching the shadows of the 
 clouds as they floated over the hills, while Kate, with her 
 arm clasped around the trunk of a tree, gazed out fixedly upon 
 the water; but something in the large,, earnest eyes told that, 
 rich as was the treat before her, she was not enjoying its 
 beauty ; the thoughtful, almost mournful glance, caught Mary's 
 attention.
 
 KATE WESTON. 29*7 
 
 " Wliat are you thinking of, Kate ?" slie exclaimed ; " you 
 look as though, you had the cares of half the village on your 
 shoulders." 
 
 " I was thinking," said the young girl gravely, " that we 
 are all mariners tossing on the waves ; I wonder if one human 
 being that lived to maturity, ever passed through life without 
 encountering any storms." 
 
 " No, I don't believe it," said Mary, half laughing, half 
 pouting. " I'm sure I had to encounter a pretty stiff gale this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " I rather think," said Kate, smiling, " that you sometimes 
 brew your own storms, if you call that one." 
 
 " Well now, just tell me what terrible tempests whiz about 
 your ears, that you should be looking so doleful over it." 
 
 " I didn't know that I was looking doleful, Mary ; no, you 
 and I are sailing on yonder river now ; we haven't reached 
 the broad ocean yet ; sometimes I think I am very near it 
 though ; clouds, and winds, and waves gather around me, that 
 seem scarcely like those of the peaceful river," said Kate, half- 
 talking to herself. 
 
 Mary was just about taking the opportunity to banter her 
 again, but as she raised her roguish eyes to the transparent 
 face, there was something so grave, so intense in its expression, 
 that she dropped them again without speaking. 
 
 " Yes," continued Kate in the same musing tone, after a 
 moment's pause, "fierce storms must gather, tempests of 
 anguish, trial, and temptation, blacker and more dangerous 
 than the wildest that sweep the great Atlantic in their fury." 
 
 Mary looked up again as though she hardly understood her 
 feelings. " Oh Kate !" she cried, springing from the ground, 
 " don't be conjuring up dire fancies so long beforehand. I hate 
 to look at the dark side of everything so ; I don't believe in 
 them at all ; where in the world are we to take refuge if we 
 are going to be always surrounded by such ' storms of 
 anguish ?' 
 
 13*
 
 298 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " In Christ the Ark ;" answered Kate ; the expression of her 
 face deepened in intensity, as she added earnestly, " would that 
 we were all in it !" 
 
 " How serious you are getting to-day," said Mary, catching 
 up the basket, and turning to resume her walk. " Come, we 
 shall be a great while gone, unless we hurry." 
 
 " I should like to see Eben Jones's oldest girl, if I could," 
 said Kate, " I have a place for her." 
 
 " A place for her ! why, she isn't fit to live anywhere." 
 
 " Well, she is going to somebody that'll make her fit to live 
 somewhere, I hope," said Kate. " Poor thing ! she's had such 
 an example before her ; no wonder she's anything but good." 
 
 Just beyond a turn in the road they came upon the dwell- 
 ing of Mrs. Jones, lying a short distance back, and entirely 
 unenclosed, save by a few rough cedars, growing all crooked 
 and one-sided, as if trying not to be out of keeping with every- 
 thing else about the house. You might have seen a great many 
 just such old, wood-colored houses, without shutters to the 
 windows, but you could not have seen many whose surround- 
 ings were of such a motley character. 
 
 Two or three barrels stood on each side of the door ; an 
 old cart with one wheel off, towered, dirty and unpainted, 
 almost directly in front ; a great pile of potatoes lay, just as 
 they had been thrown there, at a short distance from the cart ; 
 scattered around the door in untidy confusion, was crockery 
 and tin-ware of every description, some whole, some cracked, 
 some broken into fragments. A furnace stood at a little dis- 
 tance supporting a huge iron pot that was emitting an odor 
 of anything but an agreeable character. A poor, lank cow was 
 wandering about among the cedar trees, and a forlorn-looking 
 baby crept around among the kettles and crockery ; the little 
 creature, by dint of dipping his fingers in the dirt, crying half 
 the time, and rubbing his hands from his eyes over his face 
 the other half, succeeded in so artistically managing the mat- 
 ter as to make it extremely doubtful whether he might not
 
 KATE WESTON. 299 
 
 belong to a mongrel race, half-black, half-white, but not 
 decidedly to either. 
 
 As the young ladies came in view of the child, he was just dip- 
 ping his hands deep into a jug of molasses that he had discov- 
 ered. Upon seeing them, he gave a sudden start of terror at 
 being caught in his larceny, that tipped the jug over, molasses 
 and all, an accident giving rise to the most terrific screams on 
 the part of the poor little doubtful baby. Suddenly, Mrs. 
 Jones flew out at the door, apparently without seeing her visi- 
 tors, and leveled a blow at the little creature's head that 
 might have stunned a larger child. " There, you little wretch, 
 for ever up to some mischief ! Take that, an' that !" 
 
 Kate sprang forward. " You will kill your child ! Mrs. 
 Jones !" she cried in a half-frightened, half-reproachful voice. 
 
 The enraged woman whirled about in front of the child, 
 " What on airth is that to you ?" she cried. ' Gracious, if 
 tain't enough to drive a woman crazy, everything smashed to 
 smatters by that 'ere young 'un, an' then some o' yer gran' 
 folks a steppin' in to stop my whippin' on 'em. Who dares 
 to say I shan't lick my own young 'un ? To be sure, I wan't 
 never nothin' but the wretchedest, forlornest crittur that was 
 ever born into the univarse, nor I don't never expect to be 
 nothin' else till I die, but that hain't no reason why I should 
 give up my nateral-born rights over my own child." 
 
 During this speech, delivered with violent contortions of 
 the cross mouth and ugly eyes, the doubtful baby had ceased 
 crying, made quite a circuit on hands and knees to avoid the 
 notice of his mother, and was pulling < Kate's dress. Both 
 Mary and Kate perceived at a glance tha. ;he was intoxicated. 
 The hard features were flushed with that "irplish red that 
 follows over-indulgence, the eyes glowered with unusual 
 malignity, and the sharp figure, as it turned unceremoniously 
 toward the house, swayed to and fro with an unsteady swag- 
 ger that would have betrayed her without the disgusting hic- 
 cough, or offensive breath.
 
 300 KATE WESTON. 
 
 As soon as she entered, the baby made its appearance 
 from behind the girls, who had been really alarmed lest it 
 should have received some serious injury. Kate stooped to 
 examine its head, and Mary uttered an exclamation of pity. 
 The little shoulder, looming up from its ragged dress, was 
 defaced by a large blue mark, and distinctly traced upon the 
 small arm were the marks of three fingers streaked upon the 
 tender flesh. The ragged, dirty, frowsly-headed little fellow 
 put up both hands to Kate, who tenderly lifted him in her 
 arms. 
 
 " Well, I declare, Kate," said Mary with a retreating ges- 
 ture, " you take naturally to petting rags and dirt ! Poor 
 little thing, I do feel sorry for it though," she added, 
 as she came up again to examine the bruise upon its 
 arm. 
 
 " I don't think of the dirt and rags," answered Kate, " so 
 much as of the little human being that's in them. However, 
 I think we shall have to wash these arms before we can see 
 the bruises. There is water, Mary ; in one of those tin pans, 
 will you hand it me please, and soap here, some of this soft 
 soap in the barrel will do. There now, Ebby, I'm going to 
 wash you, you mustn't cry." 
 
 The little fellow watched her proceedings very closely, and 
 shied off as the pan came directly in front of him, but made 
 no resistance to the ablution, performed with Kate's wonted 
 gentle firmness. It was with him quite an unusual business, 
 so much so, that when his face and hands were thoroughly 
 clean, he seemed to feel rather awkward about it, hiding the 
 rosy little cheeks on Kate's shoulder, and peeping cautiously 
 at Mary through the plump fingers. 
 
 " Strange how such children live, and grow, and fatten," 
 said Mary, clasping her fingers about the fat arm. "One 
 would think all the neglect they experience would kill them, 
 leaving alone blows and pinches like those. What can be the 
 reason ?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 301 
 
 " Free air, and the manufacture of dirt-pies," said her com- 
 panion laughing. 
 
 " Then you think these alone counteract all the evils, so far 
 as physical health is concerned ; but these bruises seem to be 
 several days old ; it's a wonder that last blow left no mark, 
 poor thing !" 
 
 " Oh, it's an old story to me," answered Kate, sighing ; " this 
 is nothing ; sometimes it has made my heart ache to see the 
 extent to which her furious passion will take her. The other 
 day I saw her throw a stick of wood at this mere baby, and 
 I haven't the slightest doubt but that mark on the shoulder 
 is the result." 
 
 The baby had been watching the glances of tenderness 
 directed towards him by the gentle speaker, and at this 
 instant held up its mouth to kiss her. " Bless the little soul !" 
 cried Mary, " how did it ever learn that ?" 
 
 Kate kissed the red lips, tenderly murmuring, " Poor little 
 Ebby ; I wish I could take you away from here, Heaven help 
 you with such a mother, I cannot ;" then brushing a tear 
 from her eye, she added in a louder tone, " Mary, that woman 
 was always violent towards her children, but it is only since 
 she commenced drinking, that she behaves so very ill. I 
 don't believe she ever left a finger mark upon one of them 
 before that saloon was opened." 
 
 " Well, Eben takes a drop now and then too," said Mary ; 
 " I've seen him quite tipsy when he came to work." 
 
 " Poor fellow !" said Kate, seating herself on an old bench 
 with the child still in her arms, "he tries to stem the torrent of 
 trouble his wife brings upon them, but it's an impossible thing. 
 You see he makes quite a confidant of Lame Joe, and Rosy tells 
 me everything. The other day I went over to see Rosy just 
 at dusk. As I stood in the entry, I heard Jones's voice within. 
 'Tain't no use at all,' he said to Joe, 'I've done everything 
 long ago that I could do. She will have her own way, an' 
 them children's all goin' to rack an' ruin fast as ever they can
 
 302 KATE WESTON. 
 
 gallop. They ain't like her neither, an' though I say it that 
 shouldn't, if it wan't for her, there ain't better children 
 nowheres ; better-natered, nor more willin' children.' Then I 
 heard Joe say, ' Guv it up den, Eben ; telled yer 'twan't no 
 sort o' use ; yer gettin' to look as full o' wrinkles ; 'pears yer 
 an old man aready ; you's got excuse enough ; might as well 
 drink as anyting. Dis yer's de way, yer see ;' and I heard 
 Joe lay it all down on his big hand ; ' ef yer gits drunk ebery 
 day o' yer life, chillen an' eberyting is all a-gwine, an' ef yer 
 nebber gits drunk, chillen an' eberyting is all &-gwine? 
 
 " Here Rosy broke in, ' Now Joe, arn't yer 'shamed to setice 
 de man ; won't de Lord bring tings up, I'd like to know ; 
 guess He'd make her toe de mark, anyhow, ef He jest tuk it 
 in hand. Don't you nebber drink, Eben ; not widout you'd 
 jest kill the chillen, out an' out. JSToting's so ruinatious in all 
 dis ruinatious earth. Ef I could jest once be sartin dat my 
 Joe wouldn't nebber touch sperits again, I'd jest go down on 
 my knees, an' bress de Lord for de rest of my life.' " 
 
 " Comical scene, wasn't it ?" said Mary laughing ; " there 
 must be a sort of fascination in drinking, that makes men 
 slaves to the habit, but they are to blame for beginning, that's 
 the thing." 
 
 Kate sighed, but did not answer. Just then, Rebecca Jones 
 made her appearance around the corner of the house, with 
 bare feet and uncombed hair. She walked shyly towards 
 them, and entrenched her dirty feet behind a large ash-box 
 directly in front of the young ladies. 
 
 " Rebecca," said Kate, " I came here to see you ;" here a 
 smile of pleasure flitted over the girl's face, "and I have 
 two or three questions to ask you ; have you ever learned to 
 work any ?" 
 
 " Not much," was the answer, " I work often for mother, 
 but" and she hesitated, with some embarassment. 
 
 "But you haven't worked in ladies houses," said Mary, 
 helping her to what she would have said.
 
 KATE WESTON. 303 
 
 " No ma'am, only two or three times to wash dishes, or 
 something like that." 
 
 Mary could hardly help glancing from the baby to the 
 eldest scion of this illustrious house, and wondering which 
 deserved the most pity. A more forlorn, discontented look- 
 ing being could hardly be imagined than the child who stood 
 before her. Just at the age when the rushing life and buoy- 
 ancy of youth casts a glow of interest over the dullest coun- 
 tenance, with a face naturally bright and expressive, large 
 black eyes, luxuriant hair, and brilliant complexion, she united 
 all the elements of beauty in her face and figure. But the 
 wildest fancy could not make her beautiful. Her thick hair 
 was tangled all over in such a mass that the knot in which it 
 was gathered behind was almost undistinguishable. Her face 
 was dirty, the even row of teeth yellow from neglect, and the 
 large dark eyes had an expression of peevishness that totally 
 neutralized their beauty. Ill-fitting and ragged garments 
 rendered her figure unsightly, and her shy, awkward carriage 
 proved that whatever might have been her faults, vanity was 
 not one of them. 
 
 " Would you like to learn to work ?" asked Kate. 
 
 " Suppose so, ma'am," answered the child, " don't know." 
 
 " Don't know ?" exclaimed Mary, " you don't deserve to be 
 taught anything if you talk so." 
 
 " I know^ that," was the reply. " I never was good for 
 nothing, nohow." 
 
 " But you would be willing to try to be good for some- 
 thing, wouldn't you ?" asked Kate, kindly. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, if I could," she answered. 
 
 " If you could find a good place ?" continued Kate. 
 
 A sad incredulous smile lingered on the lips of the girl. 
 " / couldn't get a good place, I know, and I won't 'go to a 
 bad one, won't, so there. I might ha' gone to Gamp's or 
 Dougherty's, or Tim Rafferty's, if I liked, but as long as I've
 
 304 KATE WESTON. 
 
 got to be bad, an' live with bad folks, I might as well live 
 here." 
 
 " But if you had a good place," said Mary, " you " 
 
 The girl interrupted her, " A good place !" she cried, and 
 for a moment her fine eyes flashed. " I know I can't get a 
 good place. Haven't I been trying two years now, an' much 
 good's come of it Who'd take Sally Jones's daughter, I'd 
 like to know ? I wouldn't if I was a lady, I'm sure." 
 
 " You shouldn't speak so," said Kate, gently. " It depends 
 upon yourself to do anything in the world, not your mother. 
 Remember your father loves you, and is anxious " 
 
 " And what good is that either," broke out the child, while 
 a curl of ineffable scorn wreathed her lips ; " mother'd just 
 as soon beat father as me, don't I know that. Oh, I hate her, 
 if it wasn't for father, I know what I could do that would be 
 better than living with her. I'd run away to New York, and 
 beg or work or steal, or do anything? 
 
 Kate took no notice of this outburst, although her heart 
 trembled at the fierce temper of the neglected girl. 
 
 " How would you like to live with my mother for 
 two or three months? that is what I came to see you 
 about." 
 
 Rebecca looked up quickly, and burst into tears. The 
 doubtful baby, who had descended from Kate's knee, and was 
 again examining into various matters always interesting to 
 babies, ashes, charcoal, etc., scrambled round to his sister, 
 pulling her tattered dress, and throwing up unnoticed kisses 
 by way of consolation. 
 
 " What an affectionate little creature !" cried Mary ; " do 
 see it try to comfort her ; look, it's going to cry because she 
 does not notice him." The little one burst out into a grieved 
 cry, and Rebecca, suddenly checking her sobs, and looking 
 anxiously towards the house, lifted him in her arms. 
 
 " There, there, Ebby," she tried to say soothingly, " don't
 
 KATE WESTON. 305 
 
 cry, mother'11 hear you ; dear little Ebby, sister loves liim, 
 sister." 
 
 The baby cast a terrified glance towards the house, stopped 
 crying, and put both arms about his sister's neck, while the 
 girl who had a moment before almost alarmed them by the 
 energy of her passion, clasped him in her arms with the 
 utmost tenderness. 
 
 " A queer compound," thought Mary. " A wounded heart," 
 thought Kate, " that gentleness will heal." At length she 
 spoke. " Then you do not want to go with me, Rebecca ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes," was the eager answer, " but it was too 
 much ; I never hoped so much ; I will try, how I will try to 
 be a better girl to you, and yet," she added, in a softened 
 tone, " how can I leave poor Ebby ?" 
 
 " You can't do him any. good," said Mary. 
 
 " Have you any clothes besides those ?" asked Kate. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, father bought me a second-hand dress and 
 bonnet t'other day, and I hid 'em, so mother needn't sell 'em 
 for rum." 
 
 " Very well," said Kate, " you can come to see me to-mor- 
 row afternoon. Be sure to wash yourself thoroughly, and 
 comb your hair, because my mother will never have any dirty 
 girls about her." 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Kate," answered the girl, while an 
 expression of real sweetness played for an- instant over her 
 face, " I will try to be good for something now." 
 
 " Good bye, Ebby," said Kate, rising and patting his head, 
 " I'll come again to see you ; want a cake ?" she added, tak- 
 ing a large light bun from her basket, and handing it to the 
 delighted child, who laughed and chuckled, and held up his 
 prize for his sister's admiration. 
 
 " Good bye, Rebecca ; then you'll be there early to-mor- 
 row afternoon." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, good bye," said Rebecca, with an awkward 
 courtesy. " I'll come before two o'clock."
 
 306 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Kate, how long we have been here !" said Mary, glancing 
 at her watch. " We shall have to hurry now." 
 
 The girls walked rapidly on until they came to the cottage 
 of Teddy Toole. The house was so still that they half- 
 doubted if any one was within. A change, indeed, had 
 passed over the cottage during the three years of suffering 
 through which its occupants had passed. It looked dingy 
 for want of paint, the windows were stuffed with rags, the 
 fence was broken, and the neat, tidy garden looked barren 
 and uneven, as though it had been worked by an unskillful 
 hand. 
 
 Kate was about to knock, when a peculiar sound from 
 within arrested her hand. The door was ajar, and she could 
 hear a hissing sound, accompanied by a faint moaning, as of 
 one in distress. As they listened, they could hear muttered 
 curses, groans, and cries that told too plainly of a drunkard's 
 hour of extremity. Mary shuddered. " Don't go in, Kate, I 
 wouldn't see him for the world. Corne, this is no place 
 for us." 
 
 Her companion stood for a moment, holding the latch of 
 the door, then mournfully turning to Mary, she said, " There 
 are those within who are less able to bear it than we are. 
 We will go and see if it is not possible to do any good ; come, 
 Mary." As she spoke she took Mary's hand, and drew her 
 in after her. 
 
 As they entered the comfortless room, now almost shorn of 
 furniture, their eyes filled at the scene before them. Kitty 
 Toole was sitting down upon the bare floor, slowly rocking 
 backwards and forwards, with a low regular moan, while the 
 big tears rolled down over her face. The three smallest chil- 
 dren were cowering in a dark corner, all of them crying with 
 stifled sobs, and the youngest half-beside herself with a terror 
 whose very intensity made her silent. 
 
 The door of the adjoining room was open, and Teddy's 
 voice, uttering bitter imprecations, or raving in the madjiess
 
 KATE WESTON. 307 
 
 of his despair, rolled into those hearts a river of anguish that 
 no earthly power could stay or mitigate. Kate felt the vain- 
 ness of her endeavors, but she stepped softly up to the heart- 
 broken woman, and laid hw gentle hand upon her shoulder. 
 Kitty, now first aware of their presence, burst into a fresh cry 
 of suffering that thrilled to their very hearts. 
 
 "Have you no one here to take care of him but yourself?" 
 asked Kate. 
 
 " Not a one, Miss Kate, not a one. He was niver so bad 
 afore ; och Teddy, machree, how can I hear ye ? an' the child- 
 hers ! I'll die, sure, Miss Katie ! Och ! my poor childhers !" 
 
 " Where is Mike ?" asked Kate. 
 
 " Sure, an' that's all I've got to thank the Lord for now. 
 Mike's away up here to farmer Scott's ; he was jist afther 
 fetchin' home his wages a' Sunday, whin his father got so 
 drefful. Faith, Mikey's my last hope now." A fresh shriek 
 from the next room made the terrified wife start forward 
 towards the door, and the shrieking children cling together 
 with a convulsive grasp. 
 
 Kate sprang forward and caught Kitty's arm. " Wait a few 
 moments, I beg of you. It is not right for you to go near 
 him. I'll go for some one. He might injure you." 
 
 " Och ! let me go ; he'll make away with hisself, sure he 
 will ; hear him choke ; he's afther gettin' worse ivery minute 
 of this awful day," and, with a shudder, she again made a 
 motion towards the door. 
 
 Kate held her gently but firmly, and turning to Mary, said, 
 " Mary, I will stay here while you run back to Jones and find 
 Jake. He must be about there somewhere. He will be 
 better than no one, and he can stay until you and I return 
 and send Edward to his relief." 
 
 " Will you stay here alone ?" asked Mary. 
 
 " I am not alone," was the quiet answer, " Go, Mary," 
 
 The tone was one from which Mary knew there was no 
 appeal, so casting an anxious glance behind her as she left
 
 308 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the door, she flew swiftly back on her errand of mercy. But 
 the clear glance of faith that looked out from those beautifu 
 eyes, and the unshrinking tone in which those few parting 
 words were uttered, created in the breast of the thoughtless 
 girl a vague longing for the same trust, and love, and courage, 
 that flowed out from that warm, dauntless heart, into the 
 world of wretchedness around, like well-springs in a desert, 
 or sunbeams in a dungeon. Even the scene of suffering 
 which she had witnessed, was not sufficient to draw her mind 
 entirely from that, to her, remarkable resolution that could 
 prompt one reared in an atmosphere of the most refined gen- 
 tleness to stay at the bedside of a man suffering from the 
 worst of all forms of madness. 
 
 No, Kate was not alone ! But it was not a thought of the 
 heart-broken occupants, of the gloomy room that prompted 
 her answer. She knew that she had need of greater courage 
 because they were with her, but she had that glorious promise 
 of One who holds the whole universe in his Almighty Hand, 
 " I will never leave thee nor forsake thee," and without fear 
 she applied herself to the work God had given her to do. 
 
 During Mary's absence, Teddy seemed less violent, and 
 Kate had an opportunity of soothing the poor wife and 
 children. 
 
 " Shure, Ma'am," says Kitty, " but you'd niver find a better 
 husband than Teddy afore the dhrink crazed him in ti rely ? 
 an' would it be meself that'd lave him now, whin there's niver 
 a sowl near to kape him from killin' hisself ? He didn't do 
 it ; shure it was Gamp begun it, and Tim Rafferty finished 
 him intirely. Och, Teddy, machree ! Och, my childhers ! 
 What'll come iv us all ? God help us ! Holy Mother, have 
 mercy on us !" 
 
 " God will help you ;" said Kate, with emphasis. " He says, 
 'Call upon me, and I will hear.' Oh! pray to Him, Kitty, 
 not to the Virgin or the priest ; teach your children to pray to 
 Him ; you would find your trials easier to bear."
 
 KATE WESTON. 309 
 
 Before Jake arrived, Kate had succeeded in inspiring the 
 faithful wife with something like courage, and having first 
 transferred the children to another room, had partially drawn 
 their attention from their wretched father to a store of warm 
 woolen gowns and stockings she had brought for them. Mary 
 was surprised on her return to see little Kitty actually peep- 
 ing out of the window with a subdued smile on her round 
 face. So easily are childhood's griefs forgotten ! 
 
 Having left Jake in the room of the sufferer, they hurried 
 back to summon Edward to his assistance. By the time they 
 reached the office it was almost dark, but the generous young 
 doctor flew away to minister to his relief, while the two girls 
 pursued their way homeward, with heads and hearts full of 
 the day's adventures. 
 
 To Kate the scenes through which she had passed, with the 
 single exception of Teddy's frightful disease, were perfectly 
 familiar. She was in the habit of visiting the suffering poor, 
 and she had acquired a strength of nerve that was eminently 
 useful in her labors of love. But Mary, although always 
 interested in the recital of suffering, had never yet seen and 
 heard so much as she had seen and heard to-day. The after- 
 noon's disappointment was entirely forgotten, and she was 
 ready for a whole day to forego all parties, and leave her 
 " beautiful new crape " for ever unsoiled, if she might only do 
 good as Katie did. But one's own eyes and ears are the 
 only true touchstone to human sympathy, and there is neces- 
 sity for constant application. The heart that longs for higher 
 aims than self-interest or pleasure, must gird on the armor of 
 Christ, and throb warmly in his cause. Maiy was not yet 
 ready to go out into the highways and bye-ways of suffering, 
 seek out the afflicted, pray with them, labor for them, give up to 
 them the buoyant energy of youth, and win them to truth by 
 the sacrifice of personal ease. Only those who have taken 
 up His cross, Who was "meek and lowly of heart," Who 
 " went about doing good," " healing the sick," " cleansing tho
 
 310 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 lepers," " forgiving the erring," " raising the dead," only these 
 can so labor, and so achieve,. 
 
 Edward remained with Teddy during a large portion of the 
 night. He found him in a precarious situation, but by the 
 blessing of God upon his unremitting labors, the poor fellow 
 was raised this time from a bed of horror and anguish, to be 
 for a few weeks a sober man, and then, alas ! to return again 
 to the course of ruin from which his naturally weak energies 
 could not restrain a man of loving heart, and many lovable 
 qualities.
 
 KATE WESTON. 311 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 EDWARD, as we must call him still, although a man of three 
 and twenty, was sitting in his office when Judge Eeid entered, 
 and cordially extending his hand, exclaimed, " Why, Dr. Cla- 
 rence, you will not disappoint us this evening ; you promised 
 me a full month ago to recite that beautiful historical sketch 
 of Mrs. Hemans for us this evening." 
 
 " Aha, I had forgotten that," said Edward, with a smile. 
 " Can you not excuse me to-night ? Indeed, my professional 
 duties are such " 
 
 " Professional duties, be ye scattered to the four winds of 
 heaven !" cried the Judge, with a pompous wave of the hand. 
 " You have promised, sir, and you must perform." 
 
 " Well then," said the young physician, laughing, " from 
 such a decision there is no appeal, as Lawyer Flip would 
 say. I think, however, I shall cut rather a ridiculous figure, 
 declaiming one of my school-boy pieces at a fashionable 
 party." 
 
 "All friends !" cried the Judge, "and all anxious to hear it. 
 I'd give $10,000 down, if my boy had the same taste that you 
 have. He is so fond of society, and so petted in it, that he 
 has no time for anything else." 
 
 Edward thought to himself that time and taste were but a 
 small part of that young gentleman's requisites, but he merely 
 remarked, "All are not alike, Judge, ' Chacun a son gout. 1 I 
 was always fond of argument and oratory. I think if I had 
 as many obstacles as Demosthenes to overcome, I should
 
 312 KATE WESTON. 
 
 labor to conquer them, although, of course, I can never hope 
 for any such attainments as his." 
 
 " You are too modest, young man," said the Judge, throw- 
 ing his head back loftily, as though there were indeed no 
 appeal from his decision. "I am positive, that, had you 
 studied law, there would have been no stopping-place to your 
 progress. As you, however, did such a foolish thing as wed 
 yourself to pills and blisters for ever, I shall do my best to 
 divorce you by sending you to Legislature one year from next 
 fall ; so you may as well prepare yourself." 
 
 Edward started. " You forget my youth, sir !" he cried. 
 " You forget my profession, my inability " 
 
 " I never forget, sir," answered the gentleman, with a sta- 
 tely bow, as though displeased at his young listener's daring 
 for a moment to impute want of foresight to him, Judge Levi 
 Livingston Reid. " I believe, sir, I am not in the habit of for- 
 getting." 
 
 Edward, with all his own conflicting emotions, could hardly 
 forbear smiling at the grand displeasure of the learned gentle- 
 man. His dignity, however, unlike that of his exquisite son, 
 was supported by considerable talent, so that it was only 
 amusing, without exciting disgust. The young man hardly 
 knew how to answer him, but after a pause, he said, " I can- 
 not say that the thought never entered my mind, that I might 
 yet have the honor of serving my country in some public 
 manner ; but when, at the earnest solicitations of my parents, 
 I entered the medical profession,' I resigned, as I thought, for 
 ever, all aspirations of that nature. You cannot wonder, 
 therefore, that I should be surprised at such an expression on 
 the part of a gentleman holding a position so lofty as your 
 own." 
 
 "Nevertheless," answered the Judge, his ruffled dignity 
 somewhat soothed by this last remark, " I have resolved to 
 send you to Legislature one year from next fall, and you 
 know," he added, drawing himself up, " whatever I say,
 
 KATE WESTON. 313 
 
 I will perform ;" then changing his tone a little, he said, as 
 he opened the door, *' Then I expect you this evening. Good- 
 day." 
 
 A giant, buried long, sprung up in an instant in that young 
 exulting heart. How he had dreamed in boyhood of an hour 
 like that ; how the very words that he had just heard had 
 fallen on the ear of fancy, years ago, when the school-boy, 
 wandering by the pebbly stream, or poring in some forest 
 nook, had fired at the history of one gigantic intellect that 
 bore upon its mighty waves the ]esser surges of a nation's 
 destiny. 
 
 As he sat there, gazing into the glowing coals that heaped 
 the grate before him, his- dark eye kindled, and his cheek 
 flushed. Why did that thrill stir up his heart, and sweep 
 through the young blood coursing in his veins, till a glow of 
 rapture lit up the glorious face. O Edward ! was the eagle 
 crushing out the dove within thy breast, or can they live in 
 the same nest, mating in perfect unison ? Sweet Katie ! Was 
 it thy image flitting in its purity before his wandering fancy, 
 with hands upraised, and eyes upturned, that stole like a 
 shadow over the dreamer's hopes? Love is mightier, but 
 Ambition sings her syren song, pours out her countless trea- 
 sures, points to her glorious pinnacles, until Love sinks 
 trustingly to sleep upon her perjured bosom. O Love, poor 
 Love ! 
 
 Before the evening entertainment, Edward stole an hour to 
 spend with Kate. Of course the subject uppermost in his 
 thoughts was communicated to her the instant they were 
 alone. A flush of pleasure sparkled on her face, a glance of 
 mingled pride and affection flashed from her eyes, but almost 
 at the moment followed a sudden sense of danger in the new 
 path he was about to tread. But she could not, how could 
 she, cast a chill upon his buoyant hopes. Neither was her 
 judgment infallible, nor her knowledge of the dangers of his 
 
 14
 
 314 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 future career sufficient seriously to alarm her. It was but a 
 vague presentiment of evil, and she would not trouble him 
 at such a moment with a mere presentiment. 
 
 Young ladies stepped daintily from their carriages into 
 Judge Reid's splendidly illuminated mansion : Gay horses 
 pranced up and away before the door, liveried footmen 
 strutted about, far prouder than their masters. Stately men, 
 who had borne the cares of public life ; matrons who had 
 reared the fair flowers of beauty that now for the first time 
 were blossoming in the hothouse of the fashionable world ; 
 young men, firm of heart, and strong of nerve were there, 
 and a few, a very few faded and paled as our city youth fade 
 and pale, through idleness and dissipation. 
 
 At the furtlter end of a window-recess, Minnie Reid and 
 Emily Myers were holding together a solemn consultation. 
 The guests had mostly arrived, and a lively chat was buzzing 
 away through the whole length of the sumptuous apartments. 
 "Now, Emily, don't tell me any such thing," said Minnie, 
 earnestly, laying her slender fingers on the jewelled wrist of her 
 companion. " Haven't they always been just like brother and 
 sister together ? and 'tisn't at all likely they'll up and fall in 
 love with each other now." 
 
 "But I think they've been in love a good while," was 
 Emily's answer, " Mary has told me as much a dozen 
 times." 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Minnie, shrugging her dimpled shoulders 
 with an air of vexation. " It's too bad of you to discourage 
 me so, when I made you my confidant. Next time I'll tell 
 Anna Flip, so I will." 
 
 " Pray how soon will next time be, Minnie ? How often do 
 you suppose girls ought to bestow their affections upon some 
 new gallant ?" 
 
 " You're real hateful, that's what you are," said Miss 
 Minnie, in no very amiable tone, " you think because I'm just
 
 KATE WESTON. 315 
 
 out, I don't know anything ; that's just like some of the girls 
 at school. You ain't one bit like you used to be before I 
 went away." 
 
 " Oh never mind, ma chere, I don't want to discourage you, 
 Minnie ; Dr. Clarence has not seen you since you returned 
 from school ; use all your efforts and you may win him from 
 Kate, though if he does love her, I don't believe he'll ever play 
 truant." 
 
 " To think of that splendid, noble, magnificent fellow marry- 
 ing that dough-faced little Quaker ! She's pretty enough, to 
 be sure, but I do hate a face without expression ; " and the 
 sparkling eyes glanced complacently at a mirror opposite. 
 
 She was a fairy little creature faultless bust, shoulders and 
 arms perhaps a little too much exposed ; tiny hands and feet 
 and face vivacious and changeable as an April sky, she had 
 already commenced her career as queen of Laconia belles. To- 
 night she was arrayed in a white crape, whose soft folds set off 
 the dazzling fairness of her complexion, and the exquisite pro- 
 portions of her figure. A camelia was fastened at one side of 
 her hair, and pearls were twisted carelessly among the glossy 
 curls. No dress could have been more admirably adapted to 
 the wearer's style of beauty. Emily thought, as she looked at 
 her, that it would not be strange if the young doctor should 
 forswear his allegiance to Kate for the sake of such dazzling 
 beauty. 
 
 There was something fascinating in the dancing eye and 
 rosy mouth, in the extreme buoyancy of her every motion, 
 and in the faultless contour of her figure that won Edward's 
 admiration. Wheir did a young, enthusiastic, warm-hearted 
 fellow, like our Edward, ever see a beautiful woman and not 
 admire her. But somehow Dr. Clarence had a bad habit of 
 measuring every one by Kate. If the eyes were bright " they 
 would be glorious eyes if they only had the expression of hers." 
 If the figure was fine, " it would be magnificent if it could 
 glide along as airily as hers ;" if the mouth was pretty, " it
 
 316 KATE WKSTON. 
 
 would be a perfect rose-bud if it could but wear her gentle 
 smile." Miss Minnie congratulated herself vastly upon her 
 success, when she saw those admiring eyes follow her figure as 
 she tripped like a young gazelle from room to room, attract- 
 ing all eyes by her vivacious beauty ; but if she could have 
 seen the many " ifs " and " buts " that bounded her charms so 
 powerfully in the estimation of the young doctor, her little 
 jealous heart would have vowed eternal vengeance against her 
 old friend Kate. 
 
 " You say you do not approve of dancing the polka, 
 doctor ?" she cried, whirling herself, very impolitely it must be 
 confessed, out of the arms of her cousin in the very middle of 
 the dance, and standing flushed and out of breath directly 
 before him. 
 
 " I do not approve it, certainly," was the answer. " Kate 
 wouldn't have done that," he thought to himself, as her 
 discomfited partner turned away, and sought a seat with some 
 embarrassment of manner. 
 
 " Then I'll not dance it any more," she cried jestingly, with 
 an arch glance of her laughing eye. " Do you waltz ?" 
 
 " Not often," was the answer. " I have inherited some old 
 fashioned notions about such things, I believe. May I hope 
 for the pleasure of dancing with you in the next cotil- 
 lion ?" 
 
 " Let me see," said Minnie, laying her head coquettishly on 
 one side. " I believe I'm not engaged ; you may have that 
 exquisite pleasure, sir. There's Anna Flip, hasn't she splendid 
 eyes ?" 
 
 " Very fine, but I do not particularly admire brown eyes." 
 Then turning his face admiringly upon her, he added softly, 
 ' I love best those 
 
 ' Eyes 
 
 That have gazed on heaven till they caught its dyes.' " 
 
 He thought, even as he spoke, that other eyes he knew, not
 
 KATE WESTON. 817 
 
 those, had " gazed on heaven ;" but Minnie took the compli- 
 ment, and blushed so prettily that he was tempted to add, 
 
 " The richest tint 
 
 That e'er with roselight dyed a summer cloud, 
 Were pale beside thy cheek." 
 
 " Oh," cried Minnie, -with a heart swelling at her imagined 
 triumph, " a fig for your flattery ; was there ever a gentleman 
 who didn't flatter ?" 
 
 " Or a lady who did not love it ?" said Edward, laughing ; 
 " I know of one," whispered his heart. 
 
 " Nonsense !" pouted Minnie, " if a gentleman doesn't feel it 
 let him not say it ; that's what I think, don't you ?" 
 
 " Certainly," he answered, smiling. " What lady is that ?" 
 
 " The one that passed us in black velvet and swansdown ? 
 That's Bella Grey from New York. Hasn't she a pretty 
 neck ?" 
 
 Now Minnie knew there were not a pair of shoulders in the 
 room to vie with those dimpled ones, at that moment exposed 
 by the sudden shaking of a shower of glossy curls back from 
 their rounded outline. 
 
 Edward did not notice the motion, answering, " I think her 
 very fine-looking, but I never like low-necked dresses ; they 
 spoil the figure, I think." Kate never wears them, his heart 
 again suggested. 
 
 Wasn't it provoking ? Here was a young lady with a neck 
 not rivalled by a Venus, standing to be told by the gentleman 
 she had set her heart upon conquering, that " he did not like 
 low-necked dresses, they spoiled the figure." She was certain 
 they didn't spoil her figure, at any rate ; but she recovered 
 her momentary vexation, exclaiming, " there, I believe father's 
 leading the way to supper with that majestic Mrs. Flip. 
 Shall I introduce you to Miss Grey ?" 
 
 " By no means ; I prefer your company, ma belle," and he 
 drew the delicate little hand through his arm ; " I know you
 
 318 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Avill not desert me now. I know not what fairy has changed 
 our bright-eyed little Minnie to such a perfect model of beauty 
 in three short years. Why you are a very queen of my ideals, 
 Minnie ?" 
 
 Oh ! Edward, Edward ! A coquette ! we didn't think it. 
 
 No, it was not coquetry. Youth is youth, Beauty is 
 beauty, and Youth bows always at the shrine of Beauty. 
 Ten seconds after Edward*said it, he thought of another, not a 
 queen but the queen of his ideals. He had little vanity himself, 
 and he didn't think of the effect his words might have on the 
 bewitching little bit of vanity beside him. 
 
 Minnie cast an exultant glance upon her friend as she 
 passed her in the supper-room. Emily turned several times 
 towards them as they chatted together in a little nook just at 
 the end of the table. She saw Edward take a small rosebud 
 from a vase on the table and hand it to her, with a slight 
 bend towards her, and a whispered word. She saw Minnie's 
 eyes flash suddenly, then saw the dark lashes droop upon her 
 crimsoning cheek. "Is it possible?" she thought. "I'm 
 sure Kate Weston is forgotten now." 
 
 Mistaken, Emily! 
 
 Presently Minnie started up, and flew by her. to the table 
 where the glittering decanters stood, surrounded by silver 
 goblets and wine-glasses of the richest beauty. She looked 
 among them, and seizing a small bottle, glided back to the 
 recess. Then pouring out two glasses, she exclaimed : " This is 
 some wine father bought before I was born, I was determined 
 you should have some ; there, drink my health now." 
 
 " Excuse me," said Edward, setting his glass upon a small 
 stand beside them, " I will drink your health in a glass of 
 water." 
 
 The young lady set down her own glass suddenly, and cast 
 a bewitching glance of piqued vanity at her companion. 
 
 " Don't you think I can pledge you as much happiness in 
 this ?" said Edward, holding up a glass of sparkling water.
 
 KATE WESTON. 3j.y 
 
 She had half a mind to be angry, but as she looked up, 
 those dark eyes met her own, and their power was irresistible. 
 She caught the water from his hand, and snatching the wine- 
 glass from the stand, stood up before him, poising it gracefully 
 in one hand, and looking up into his face so appealingly. 
 Emily thought, as the motion caught her eye it, would have been 
 a picture worthy of a Raphael's pencil ; the dark back-ground 
 of the window draperies, that noble figure, the flush of youth- 
 ful manhood, looking down with an expression half amuse- 
 ment, half admiration upon the little Hebe, with her rosy 
 lips pouting, and her eyes appealing with all their spell of 
 witchery, as she held out the magic draught for his accept- 
 ance. 
 
 " Now, Dr. Clarence," she cried, " can you have the imper- 
 tinence to refuse drinking with a lady, when she has threaded 
 that human labyrinth to procure the draught, and when I 
 tell you it is older (and sweeter of course), than I am." 
 
 " Not sweeter, Minnie," said Edward softly. 
 
 The rich blood mantled to her cheeks again, rendering her 
 still more fascinating. 
 
 " Come now, I'm sure your compliments are all deceit if 
 you cannot take a glass of wine with me." 
 
 To him it was a tempting chalice, held by a tempting hand. 
 " Your promise," conscience whispered. " My promise did 
 not involve this," he thought. 
 
 " I'll not move a step till you take this glass, and drain it, 
 sir," said Minnie, changing her tone, and assuming a mock 
 tragic attitude, " 'Twere vain to strive to break thy chain " 
 
 " Which I would not if I could," answered the young man, 
 taking the glass from her hand; "but, to release thee, fair 
 tyrant, from durance vile, I yield to thy command." 
 
 Oh ! Edward, thy first words had a double meaning.
 
 820 KATE 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A DAT or two after, Kate and Edward were sitting in the 
 old-fashioned parlor of Mr. Weston's house. The great wood- 
 fire burned cheerily in the chimney. The high-backed chairs 
 and huge mahogany side-board accorded well with its spark- 
 ling blaze. The only modern article in the room was Kate's 
 piano, that looked almost out of keeping with its antique 
 neighbors. 
 
 Kate was sitting at the piano, singing " The Ingle Side," 
 and Edward, after joining in the first verse, stood over her, 
 stroking back her hair, that she had curled that day to please 
 his fancy. When she had finished, she turned round suddenly, 
 and laying her hand on his arm, exclaimed, " Why, Edward* 
 you don't sing at all to-night, it's time for .me to give up, I 
 think, when you look so blue over it." 
 
 " I wasn't looking blue," he answered smiling. " I was 
 thinking of that day, more than three years ago, when you 
 and I, Katie, sat out in your bower by the water's edge. Do 
 you remember ?" 
 
 " Do I remember ? Edward !" 
 
 " I didn't mean that, darling ; I know you remember, but 
 I was just looking forward, and I hardly thought 1 exactly what 
 I was saying. You thought we were not old enough then, 
 we are old enough now, Katie. I have half doubted your love 
 lately, you delay my happiness so long." 
 
 " Father's health is so feeble, he could hardly spare me 
 now ; but if you will come here, Edward, and be content to 
 divide my attention, then "
 
 KATE WESTON. 321 
 
 " Then you will be mine, dearest, soon, very soon." 
 
 " Not before summer, Edward ; mother will not consent ; 
 but you will have to be very generous if father keeps so ill ; 
 he can hardly bear me out of his sight for two or three 
 hours." 
 
 "I'll try to 'cultivate the grace of patience,' as Father Ben- 
 son would say, and not monopolize too mucn of your atten- 
 tion. I long so to come home to you, dearest, after the toils 
 of the day, and to feel that I may seek you whenever and 
 wherever I please, 'without observing these provoking for- 
 malities." 
 
 " But we are sure of each other's love, wherever we may 
 be, and however often separated," said Kate, her eye beaming, 
 and her cheek flushing, as Edward pressed his lips to her 
 forehead. 
 
 " But that is not all, Kate, when mind and body are alike 
 weary, it does not satisfy me to think of you ; I want to see 
 you, and hear your voice, and feel that you are my own sweet 
 wife." 
 
 The blush deepened on Kate's cheek, the eyelids drooped, 
 and the little hand he was holding trembled as it softly 
 returned his pressure. He thought she had never looked so 
 beautiful. 
 
 " Will you wear your hair curled always, Kate ? I like to 
 see you so, my queen of beauty," and he arranged the tresses 
 over her face to suit his fancy. 
 
 She threw them back, and laughed, as she answered, " You 
 will soon have a right to lay me under your marital com- 
 mands, according to your own telling, so I beg of you do not 
 compel me to undertake such a task as this every day at 
 present. Why, it took me a full half hour to prepare these 
 precious tBesses for your admiration. Mother," she added, 
 lifting up the golden curls, as Mrs. Weston entered, "don't 
 you think it's a great waste of time to try pleasing Edward 
 with these troublesome ornaments ?" 
 14*
 
 322 KATE WESTON. 
 
 "No waste of time to please Edward," was Mrs. Wes- 
 ton's answer, " but you must remember, my children, the 
 rule of the inspired Apostle, ' Let not your adorning be the 
 plaiting of the hair, and wearing of gold, and the putting on of 
 apparel, but the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which 
 is in the sight of God of great price.' Edward must be care- 
 full not to let vdfcity creep into your heart, Kate. It is a weed 
 that is hard rooting out again." 
 
 " I have no fear for her" said he, casting upon the sweet, 
 glowing face, a glance of almost triumphant admiration. 
 
 " Thou art a young man yet, and a lover, at that, my boy. 
 Wait till Time proves your treasure," but the smile that lit 
 the gentle eyes beaming over the spectacles upon her child, 
 proved that she, at least, was satisfied with the trial she had 
 made of the noble girlish character. 
 
 " Come now, my daughter, tea is ready, and we must not 
 keep it waiting," said Mrs. Weston, leading the way into 
 the dining-room on the other side of the hall. Just as they 
 entered the hall, Edward's steps were suddenly arrested by 
 a rap, rap, rap upon the door, followed immediately by a 
 thump, thump, thump, of a cane on the stone steps outside. 
 
 " Father Benson !" he exclaimed, flying to open the door. 
 " You can never mistake his knock" 
 
 The old gentleman fluttered into 'the house, dropped pack- 
 age, hat, gloves and all, right down upon the floor, everything 
 but the cane which he was holding in one hand, and a letter 
 which he held aloft in the other. He did not stop for the 
 usual civilities, but ran up to Edward, almost breathless with 
 delight. 
 
 " My Willie is coming at last," rap, rap, rap, he's in the 
 vessel that's to bring him home ; sing aloud, Edward my boy, 
 kill the fatted calf, and make merry," rap, rap, rap, " my son 
 that was dead is alive again ; didn't I say it, after three years, 
 everything goes by threes ; he's got a boy too, to bring home 
 with him," rap, rap, rap, " poor fellow, he's lost his wife, and
 
 KATE WESTON. 323 
 
 his poor mother," here the little old gentleman's voice grew 
 hysterical, "but my boy is free at last at last !" rap, rap, rap, 
 went the cane, twinkle, twinke, twinkle, blink, blink, blink, 
 went the eyes, and the aged father burst into a cry of joy ; 
 his cane went so incessantly, his feet danced about so nerv- 
 ously beneath the long skirts of his overcoat, and his whole 
 frame was under the influence of such violent excitement, 
 that it was not until Edward had drawn him gently into the 
 dining-room, Kate had almost forced him into the old- 
 fashioned easy-chair, and Mrs. Weston had used all her 
 magical powers of soothing, that they succeeded in ascertain- 
 ing fully the cause of his exultation." " Read that," he cried, 
 at last, " read it, and you will be ready to kill the fatted calf; 
 read it aloud, Edward, my boy ; you see," he added rubbing 
 his hands together, " everything goes by threes." 
 
 Edward read the letter aloud, as he had requested ; his heart 
 throbbed with a quick anguish for the poor old man, as his 
 eyes fell upon the date. But he saw instantly that it would 
 be cruel and unwise to dash this new hope so suddenly from 
 his heart ; so he read on, interrupted at every few sentences 
 by the inspired cane, or the gleeful chuckling of the eager 
 father. " I told you so, he'd break away at last, hear hear, 
 he's to be home in three months, everything goes by threes ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 "When the precious document was finished, he looked 
 round upon them all with the most triumphant confidence, 
 bobbing his little head, all silvered over with the frost of 
 seventy winters, and rubbing his hands in perfect ecstasy. 
 
 "Where did you get this letter, Father Benson ?" asked 
 Edward as he returned it to him. 
 
 " Mary gave it me just now," he answered, " as I was going 
 by the door ; Jeremiah wasn't in, so I read it coming along, 
 well as I could with my old eyes and spectacles ; but I only 
 just made out that my boy was coming at last, after so long, 
 oh ! so long !"
 
 324 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Let me see it a moment," said Kate, stepping up with 
 her back towards Father Benson, and holding up her fingers 
 significantly to Edward. "May I keep it for you, Father 
 Benson, and then you can come here and I'll read it for you 
 every day, if you like." 
 
 The old gentleman looked puzzled, but Edward, who had 
 understood her gesture, explained the matter quite satis- 
 factorily, by saying, " T. Gamp and Co. might get hold of it, 
 you know, and then " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I see, I see," cried Father Benson, in a half- vexed 
 tone ; " the hyenas always got everything away that had any- 
 thing to do with my boy, even the model steam-engine he 
 had taken such pains to construct. His poor mother cried 
 so when they carried that away, after my Willie was 
 gone " (his voice trembled again here), " and if they knew," 
 he added, in an excited whisper, " that he was coming back 
 in three months, they might lay traps to get him before me, 
 mightn't they " 
 
 " You had better leave the letter here, at any rate," said 
 Edward, taking a seat at the tea-table, in obedience to Mrs. 
 Weston's gesture. He whispered to Kate, as she seated her- 
 self beside him. " He might never notice the date, but it's 
 better to be careful ; he is unable to bear much now." 
 
 Mrs. Weston was called by the village ladies, a " tip top 
 housekeeper." The arrangements of her table were conducted 
 in a manner that would have done credit even to a Yankee 
 housewife. The white, light bread, the golden butter, the 
 exquisite honey, the tender chicken, and the crisp crullers 
 were perfect in their kind. Added to this, the snowy cloth, 
 the antique silver tea-service, the polished knives, and more 
 than all, the attractive courtesy of the hostess, made a meal at 
 Mrs. Weston's more agreable than a feast at many homes. 
 Father Benson was won at last through Kate's unremitting 
 endeavors to pay some little attention to his supper, but excel- 
 lent as it was, he forgot himself every little while, and fell to
 
 KATE WESTON. 325 
 
 rapping on the table with the handle of his fork, calling upon 
 the whole company to " kill the fatted calf," and asserting 
 emphatically that " everything goes by threes." 
 
 Edward had hardly commenced his supper, when another 
 knock came at the outer door, and a moment after Rosy's 
 yellow turban was thrust into the room. " Lawsakes, Massa 
 Edward, nebber you mind noting bout dem remaginary people. 
 Jest stay and include your supper." 
 
 " What ' remaginary ' people, Rosy ? you haven't told me 
 yet ;" said Edward, with a smile. " Does anybody want to 
 exclude my supper ?" 
 
 " Dem 'ere Stetsons, ober t'oder side ob de river. Dey's 
 oilers 'larmed bout noting at all. Shame to send arter you, 
 anyhow, sich an orful night as dis yer. 'Pears dey might a' 
 gone fur Dr. Higgins to-night." 
 
 "Excuse me a moment, I will step out and see," said 
 Edward, leaving the table. A man, wrapped in a large over- 
 coat, stood at the door. " Please, doctor, Mr. Stetson's youngest 
 child has been taken with the croup, and he wanted me to 
 bring you back with me, if you were at home. They are 
 afraid it won't live till you get there." 
 
 " I'll go with you directly," answered the young doctor. 
 Just warm yourself by the fire. How will you cross the 
 river ?" 
 
 " There is a boat waiting, sir." 
 
 Edward stepped into the dining-room, at the same time 
 drawing on his overcoat, stated to the family the cause of his 
 sudden summons, and flew out into the hall. Kate snatched 
 his cup, followed him, and made him swallow the remainder 
 of his coffee. He looked a little disappointed, and she saw it. 
 " Never mind, Edward, we'll take our sleigh-ride to-morrow 
 night. " Here's my shawl ; nay, you must wear it ; crossing 
 the river will be terrible ; take care of yourself, you reckless 
 boy ; not on your own account, but mine, you know." 
 
 Edward smuggled a sly kiss as the driver passed down the
 
 326 KATE WESTON. 
 
 walk, and in two minutes was rattling away on his mission of 
 mercy. They drove rapidly until they came to a spot upon the 
 road where a perpendicular cliff at the side overhung a rocky 
 chasm of fearful depth below. Here they came suddenly upon 
 a crowd of men who had gathered close to the edge of the 
 precipice. 
 
 " Stop one moment," said Edward to the driver, " let us see 
 what is the matter here." 
 
 One of the men turned round as he leaped from the sleigh, 
 and went towards them. " There's no use o' you, doctor," he 
 said, as he recognized him. " Nobody could topple onto those 
 rocks and be alive five minutes afterwards." 
 
 " Has any one fallen there ?"" cried Edward, the blood chill- 
 ing in his veins. 
 
 " Some woman was staggering along in front of Jonathan 
 Meeks, and all of a sudden we see her go right over. We 
 warn't near enough to help her, but the moon and snow 
 together was so bright, we see her plain as day." 
 
 His listener shuddered. " And didn't you know who she 
 was ?" he asked. 
 
 " No sir, we got no chance to see her, she was so far ahead 
 of us. . Jonathan Meeks and Big Sam's gone round arter her. 
 There, they's coming up the hill to the side yonder." 
 
 " You'll have to wait a moment," said Edward to the driver. 
 " I must stay and see if there is any hope of restoring life. 
 How terrible !" he murmured, as he looked from that giddy 
 height into the chasm below. " There can be no hope." 
 
 As the men neared the top of the hill, he advanced to meet 
 them. "You're here just in time, doctor," said a man a little 
 in advance of the body, " wan't it lucky ye happened along 
 just this minute ? We sent one man right off arter you, and 
 another arter Dr. Higgins, but we hadn't no idee either one'd 
 get here afore another half-hour." 
 
 " Who is it ?" asked Edward. " Is she alive ?" 
 
 " It's Sally Jones, sir ; she ain't dead yet, though I guess
 
 KATE WESTON. 327 
 
 she's mighty nigh it. She's orfully smashed, though it's 
 drefful !" 
 
 When they reached him, they stopped, and laid her on a 
 buffalo that Edward had taken from the sleigh. It was a hor-- 
 rible sight, that ghastly bloated face, distorted with violent pas- 
 sions, turned upward to the pure moonlight. The tangled hair 
 was literally drenched in blood, and every few moments a 
 fierce spasm contorted the upper half of the figure: The 
 young physician, although with a sickness at his heart, stooped 
 over her, and used every method to restore her to sense. But 
 after a few minutes' effort, she started up, cast up her arms, 
 fixed upon his face one long look of anguish and remorse that 
 haunted him for years, and fell back stiff in death upon the 
 ground. 
 
 There was nothing further for him to do ; he left the men 
 to carry home their ghastly burden, and hurried on to his 
 destination. The wind came with a chilly sweep down the 
 Hudson, as they crossed the water in a large row-boat belong- 
 ing to Mr. Stetson. " 'Taint no sort of a night to be dragging 
 you over here, that's a fact, doctor," said the boatman, as he 
 tugged at the oar. "But Mrs. Stetson's powerful nervous^ 
 and she's took a fancy nobody can't serve her but you. How- 
 somever, Master. Charlie is mighty bad to-night, anyhow." 
 
 The little boy's illness had excited great alarm. As Edward 
 rode up through the grove surrounding "the noble mansion 
 lights gleamed through the leafless trees from almost every 
 window. When he reached the door, he was eagerly drawn 
 within by Mr. Stetson, who was pale with anxiety, and conducted 
 immediately to the suffering child. The scene was one that 
 is always terrifying in the extreme to an inexperienced parent, 
 and even one which the best physicians cannot look upon 
 without serious alarm. The little fellow was struggling for 
 breath ; it was evident that some effective remedy must be 
 used immediately. Edward took a small box from his pocket, 
 mixed a powder, and administered it to the sufferer. Then
 
 328 KATE WESTON. 
 
 stripping up his sleeves, he proceeded to bathe the little feet 
 with his own hands. Active and sympathetic, he was not con- 
 tented with performing the stated duties of his profession, 
 and could never see his patients suffer, without taking upon 
 himself half the duties of nurse. 
 
 It was some hours before the little creature was in a con- 
 dition that warranted the warm-hearted doctor in leaving him. 
 He was urged very strongly by Mr. Stetson to pass the night, 
 but he remembered another sufferer whom he bad promised 
 to visit that night, so he was firm in declining his invita- 
 tion. 
 
 " Your little one is out of danger for to-night, Mrs. Stetson," 
 said he, stooping over to listen to the infant's breath. " If he 
 should be worse to-morrow, you will have to send for me 
 again." 
 
 The tears sprang to the eyes of Mrs. Stetson as she shook 
 his hand in parting. " Excuse me, sir," she said, " but I have 
 never seen a doctor who seemed to feel so keenly for suffering 
 before. We should not have sent for you to take such an 
 unpleasant journey to-night, but that I could not trust to 
 another physician." 
 
 Edward colored at the compliment uttered by the lady in a 
 half-apologetic tone, and said laughingly, " Oh ! Mrs. Stetson, 
 I'd never choose a profession unless my heart were in it, and 
 wherever so stanck a patron as Mr. Stetson is concerned, it 
 would certainly be for my interest to take a little trouble. 
 Good evening." 
 
 " Nonsense !" exclaimed Mr. Stetson, as they passed down 
 the stairs ; " I've known you too long, doctor, for any of that 
 palaver ; interest alone wouldn't have brought you over here 
 to-night, unless your heart had something to do with it." 
 
 " You seem inclined to flatter me this evening, at anyrate," 
 said Edward, taking his hat from the stand in the hall. 
 
 " Stop for a few moments, doctor, 1 beg of you," exclaimed 
 his companion, laying his hand on his shoulder, and half-fore-
 
 KATE WKSTON. 329 
 
 ing him into the dining-room. " You did not think I would 
 allow you to return at midnight without refreshment" 
 
 At this moment a servant entered with a tray containing 
 some sandwiches and cold chicken, and Mr. Stetson unlocking 
 a small closet, drew out a bottle of wine. Edward was very 
 tired, for his day's labor, previous to his evening journey, had 
 been wearisome, so that he enjoyed his late repast exceedingly. 
 A flitting thought of Kate's warning for an instant stayed his 
 hand as he was lifting the wine glass to his lips, but the next 
 moment he thought of his exciting ride, and bodily fatigue, 
 and felt convinced that it was not for such occasions that her 
 caution was intended. 
 
 The draught certainly refreshed him, body and mind, ren- 
 dering him in a measure impervious to the cold blast that 
 swept the river, and the terrible shadows that seemed hover- 
 ing about the spot where he had that evening seen Death in 
 one of its most fearful forms. 
 
 Yet yet it was unsafe.
 
 330 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ALICE AINSLIE'S wedding was over. The affair was not 
 essentially different from other weddings. There was the 
 usual amount of white satins, French laces, and orange flowers. 
 There were little cakes and large cakes, temples of liberty 
 made of sugar candy, and grottoes of candied nuts. The 
 world said it was a very pleasant wedding; probably they 
 referred to the white satins and sugar candy ; but once, for a 
 wonder, the world and the parties interested agreed. Not one 
 of the whole family but were pleased with the match, except, 
 indeed, poor Clarence, who fretted so much over it for a 
 month beforehand, that he looked very miserable indeed on 
 the eventful day. 
 
 Judge Ainslie, in tremulous tones, had spoken the parting 
 blessing the . mother had offered the parting kiss Aunt 
 Sophie, in her gentle, stately way, had given the parting 
 advice, and the children had cried till their eyes were red, and 
 their faces swollen, totally unmollified by the promise of the 
 entire ruins of the temple of liberty, and the grottoes of candied 
 nuts. Mr. Pufton had whisked about jollily enough, with his 
 little face all of a blaze (" a regular nice Liverpool coal fire," 
 as Alice afterwards told Aunt Sophy), sending out cheer and 
 warmth all over the room. Edward had offered his congratu- 
 lations, not so much' with the lips, as with the true brotherly 
 feeling beaming out from those glorious eyes. Kate had offered 
 her soft kiss without speaking, but the gathering tears said 
 more than words. Sophronia, in a more than ordinarily glorious 
 head-dress, had taken a queenly leave of the charming bride
 
 KATE WESTOX. 331 
 
 and noble groom, and they were off and away to share heart 
 and life together, so long as heart should beat, or life should 
 last. 
 
 At Mrs. Ainslie's earnest request, Kate had consented to 
 stay for a few days after her daughter's departure. It was 
 sorely against her inclination to leave her invalid father, b.ut 
 Edward urged that she was suffering from confinement, and 
 her mother said, " Go, Kate, thou must get back thy roses, or 
 I shall have both thee and thy father to nurse before spring." 
 So she had yielded, and Edward suddenly discovejed that he 
 had some important business in the city, although he could 
 not make out at all to anybody's satisfaction, where the 
 importance lay. 
 
 The morning after the wedding, Mr. Pufton was ambling 
 along towards his warehouse. Few people were as yet astir, 
 for he was always up betimes, so that he might get through 
 sooner ; he said, he " liked plenty of time to play." 
 
 " As he passed James Slip, he saw a crowd of men gathered 
 out at the end of the dock about some object of apparent 
 interest. He advanced towards them, and elbowed his way 
 through, until he could see the cause of the disturbance. 
 
 On the ground before him, a woman was sitting, with her 
 head down, and an old hood over her eyes. A little further 
 on, a little girl knelt with her back towards him, leaning for- 
 ward with arms folded, and extended above something that 
 lay beneath them, while stifled sobs burst out from the little 
 bosom that bent brooding over the object of solicitude. 
 
 A tall stout gentleman, with one of those peculiarly bland 
 countenances that finds instantly the path to every heart, was 
 talking to one of the two policemen. 
 
 "Can nothing be done for the child?" he asked, "nothing?" 
 
 " No sir, 'taint no use," was the reply. " The child's dead 
 as a hammer, and all we've got to do is to see to the woman. 
 Come, get up, won't you ?" He had hold of her arm, and was 
 trying to rouse her. " You see, sir," he added, turning again,
 
 332 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " we are so used to such sorts o' things, we don't feel so 
 tender like over 'em as you." 
 
 As he continued endeavoring to draw the woman from the 
 ground, she at last lifted her head and looked around her 
 with a stupid stare. Pufton stood .directly in front of her } 
 and as he met the expression of those blood-shot eyes, he 
 turned suddenly round, as if he would escape. But the crowd 
 hemmed him in on every side, so he flew round to where the 
 little girl was kneeling, and looked in under the brooding 
 arms. There lay a little figure, but half-clad, and a little face 
 that he had seen before, motionless as now, with a black stain 
 ' around the mouth and eyes, that told of the dread death- 
 agony. It needed not the cry that burst from Lucy's lips, as 
 her eye fell upon him, nor the look of living anguish on her 
 face, to make the little gentleman lose all self-control, and 
 sob and cry like a suffering child. 
 
 This time he was totally overcome. He forgot the crowd 
 the observation he was attracting, everything but those three 
 human beings upon the ground before him. One of the 
 policemen at last succeeded in getting the intoxicated woman 
 to her feet, and leading her away. The other advanced to 
 the child. " Come, my little one," he said in a softened tone' 
 " I will carry away the baby for you." 
 
 Lucy bent lower over her treasure. " No, I'll take care of 
 him," she sobbed, " leave me alone." 
 
 The man stood for a moment irresolute ; then he stooped, 
 and laid his hand gently on her arm. She uttered a scream, 
 and turned wildly towards the benevolent gentleman who was 
 looking on with tearful eyes. "Oh, don't let him take Millie 
 away; don't sir. I'll watch here, I'm going to lie down 
 here and die with her." 
 
 u My child," he said, tenderly, " you shall go with her ; we 
 don't want to leave you here in the cold." 
 
 " I can stay where Millie stays. Oh," she cried in a fresh 
 burst, " Mother wasn't so once ; she used to love us, and take
 
 KATE WESTON. 333 
 
 care of us before father died, but now she has killed Charlie 
 and Millie, and she'll kill me some day, I'm sure she will. I'd 
 rather lie down here and die with Millie," and the child 
 actually stretched herself down upon the ground, and pressed 
 her arms tightly over the little stiff figure. 
 
 " You'll find it hardern you think for to die there," said the 
 policeman, rubbing his coarse sleeve across his eyes. "Jingo, 
 I've seen many a human crittur wanted to lie down and die, 
 but I never see one so little as you before." 
 
 The benevolent gentleman bent on one knee beside her. 
 " Suppose, my child, you get up and carry Millie to a nice 
 bed that I'll find for you, and then you can lie down by her, 
 if you like. Do you think you could carry her ?" 
 
 The child looked up into his face, then rose without speak- 
 ing, allowed him to lay her little dead sister on her arms, and 
 tottered away, almost falling beneath the burden. The gentle- 
 man was walking beside her, but he was stopped by Mr. Puf- 
 ton. " Wait sir, one minute sir I must speak, sir," 
 
 " You can take them up to in that hack yonder," said 
 
 the gentleman, turning to the policeman, "I'll follow directly." 
 Susan turned round with a doubtful glance, but he reassured 
 her by saying, " Go, my little one, I'll come in a few minutes, 
 don't be afraid." 
 
 "You see, sir," began Mr. Pufton, wiping his eyes, and 
 striving with all his might to get breath to speak, " I wanted 
 to tell you, sir I did it, sir I smothered that baby, sir 
 Rick Ryker, sir my porter, sir, his wife, sir fact is, sir I 
 ought to be hanged, sir give me your card, sir." At every 
 other word, poor Mr. Pufton swallowed a big sob, and tried 
 to crowd back the tears with his handkerchief. It was of 
 little use though, for he could barely make himself intel- 
 ligible. 
 
 The gentleman took out his card, and handed it to him. 
 
 "Thought so, sir clergyman, sir I'll call on you, sir, 
 this evening at eight, sir meantime sir here sir I can't
 
 334 KATE WESTON. 
 
 do it, sir take care of them, sir ;" and fumbling a bill out 
 of his pocket-book into tho gentleman's hand, he trotted 
 away, rubbing his eyes, and talking to himself, before Dr. D. 
 could recover his surprise sufficiently to follow him. 
 
 He talked away all the way to his store, without knowing 
 when he reached it, if he had passed anybody on the way. 
 He entered, sent away the porter, closed the door, locked 
 it, and seated himself deliberately to think for a whole fore- 
 noon. It was tough work though. Every few minutes he 
 was out of his chair, running up and down the store, bobbing 
 his head, and shaking his arms ; then down upon his seat 
 again, where by dint of drawing himself close to the counter, 
 he could manage to keep still for ten minutes or so ; then 
 back went the chair, and the big heart sent the little body 
 adrift again. 
 
 That evening he kept his appointment with Dr. D. The 
 reverend gentleman was sitting at his study fire, as Mr. Puf- 
 ton was ushered into his presence. The fine large head was 
 bald on the top, except a small dark lock just over the fore- 
 head, and his little daughter was rubbing her hand softly 
 over it. As Mr. Pufton entered, saluting the clergyman, 
 and shaking hands with the little girl, her father made a 
 motion, and the child withdrew. 
 
 What was passing between them was a subject of specu- 
 lation to Biddy in the kitchen, who was waiting to let the 
 visitor out, for the poor girl sat trying to force open her 
 sleepy eyes until twelve o'clock that night before he departed. 
 Once or twice she went softly to the head of the stairs to 
 listen, but she could only .catch, "Yes sir 'pon my word 
 sir think so myself, sir half thought so long ago, sir," 
 uttered in a quick puffy manner, or the deep low tones of her 
 master's voice, flowing forth in their accustomed melody, but 
 so attuned to the place in which he was speaking, that she 
 could not distinguish a sentence. Her eyes, however, were 
 wide enough open, and her mouth too, when she stood hold-
 
 KATE WESTON. 335 
 
 ing the front door for the stranger's departure. She stared 
 first at the slender limbs and feet, then at the funny little ball 
 of a body, then at the round head with its bobbings and 
 twistings, until they were all fairly out of sight. 
 
 " Good-night, sir I'll do it, sir you've finished the busi- 
 ness, sir I honor you for it, sir never mind expense, sir 
 bless me, I ought to be hanged, sir;" and away went the little 
 head, body, legs and all as fast as they could paddle. 
 
 Biddy rubbed her eyes, and looked with some terror at her 
 master, at this alarming acknowledgment, but as he only turned 
 away with his "Usual benevolent smile a little heightened per- 
 haps, she contented herself with marching off to bed, mutter- 
 ing to. herself, "Shure an' what's the use o' such folks bein' 
 afther kaping dacent people up out o' their beds the whole 
 blissed night intirely." 
 
 The next day Mr. Pufton was up at five o'clock in the 
 morning. He swallowed one cup of coffee, but left the 
 juicy steak and light roll untasted, and hurried off to his 
 place of business. There was an elasticity in his motions, 
 and a steady light radiating over all the rosy face, that told 
 of something uncommon in Mr. Pufton's life. He reached 
 the store in advance of the porter, and expended all his 
 stock of patience in perambulating the sidewalk before that 
 personage made his appearance. 
 
 As soon as they were inside, he locked the door, and turned 
 with a confidential half-whisper to his porter, "Patrick ! do you 
 think you could dig a drain from this window to that sewer 
 in the yard ?" 
 
 The man gaped in astonishment. " Yes sir, I suppose so," 
 he answered with a perplexed air. 
 
 " Well, do it Pat, and here's two shillings if you finish it in 
 an hour." 
 
 Patrick took a spade and commenced work outside, while 
 Mr. Pufton mounted the high stool at his desk, and watched 
 operations. He tried to sit as still as possible, but various
 
 336 KATE WESTON. 
 
 nudgings and elbowings showed how great was the self-con- 
 trol necessary. At last, letting himself down, he flew out, 
 and snatching the spade from Patrick's hand, exclaimed, 
 "There, sir, just get another spade, I'm going to work myself 
 to-day, so I am, sir." 
 
 The man looked puzzled again, but went off after another 
 spade, leaving Mr. Pufton hard at work, panting and puffing 
 all the time, and finding his rotund little body vastly in the 
 way of his novel occupation. "When the drain was completed, 
 Patrick stared harder than ever, for his master pointed to a 
 small cask of his very finest brandy, saying, " Bfing that here, 
 and set it on the window ; there now, knock in the head." 
 
 Patrick looked stupidly at the beaming face, and paused, but 
 the ecstatic twinkle of the little gray eyes convinced him th?t 
 the gentleman was in earnest ; so, striking a severe blow upon 
 the head of the cask, he watched the bright stream sparkling 
 in the light, with a rueful gaze, wondering what could have 
 caused such a revolution in his merry little master. 
 
 When that cask was emptied, another was brought, and 
 another, Mr. Pufton assisting to lift them to the window, 
 or poising them upon the sill, watching with that same 
 ecstatic twinkle the streams flow fast and free, without 
 noticing the taciturn porter's dismay as the business pro- 
 ceeded. As the little gentleman advanced in its prosecution, 
 he became more excited, seizing and emptying wine bottles, 
 upsetting demijohns, breaking decanters outright, and holding 
 unlimited conversations with himself. " Pufton, you've been 
 crazy all your life, so you have ; this might have been done 
 before. I see it all now bless me, so I do. John, hold that 
 demijohn straight, sir I see it straight sir can't save poor 
 Ryker, though, too late now, sir. Patrick," with vast vehem- 
 ence, " I charge you I command you, sir " 
 
 ' What, sir ?" asked poor stupid Patrick, with a blanker stare 
 than ever. 
 
 " Never to drink a drop, sir. I'm convinced now at last,
 
 KATE WESTON. 337 
 
 sir ; it'll ruin you, sir ; Fll never drink or sell a drop again. 
 Heaven help me , never, sir, never !" 
 
 Poor Patrick was iaif-convinced as well as his master 
 by such energetic words, although he ventured no further 
 answer. 
 
 It was five o'clock in the afternoon before the work of des- 
 truction was completed. Patrick had dispatched his two 
 leviathan slices of bread and butter at twelve o'clock, but Mr. 
 Pufton could not eat ; his whole frame was so under the influ- 
 ence of his exciting occupation, that he felt neither hunger 
 nor thirst, heat nor cold. When the last cask was empty he 
 sent Patrick away, settled himself down in his great easy- 
 chair, and drained a goblet of water. How strange it seemed, 
 swallowing that draught of water in the place of his. accus- 
 tomed beverage. There was a longing within, that water 
 could not satisfy ; but Mr. Pufton, once convinced, was firm 
 as the Eddystone Lighthouse. The deed of his life was done ; 
 he had thrown up a thriving business, destroyed many thou- 
 sand dollars' worth of stock, laid himself open to the animad- 
 version of all his brother rum-sellers, as well as of the 
 fashionable world in general ; but any one who knew him, 
 would as soon have thought of seeing the rocks of Eddystone 
 return to their primitive mountains, as the new principles in 
 the breast of that impulsive little gentleman recede before the 
 power of old and long-cherished habits. 
 
 The most violent excitement is sure to bring a correspond- 
 ing reaction ; it was, consequently, but a few minutes after 
 Mr. Pufton had seated himself before he was in a sound slum- 
 ber. He looked comical enough, too, sitting there so cosily 
 in his high-backed chair amid the broken decanters and 
 empty casks, like a monarch amid the ruins of his kingdom. 
 But the dimpled smile on each fat cheek, and the peculiar 
 glow of satisfaction that lit up the rosy little nose, spoke 
 of anything but dissatisfaction with the ruin he had 
 15
 
 338 KATE WESTON. 
 
 wrought. The plump hands (pincushions, Alice called 
 them), were folded complacently upon the round stomach, 
 and the feet were comfortably stretched upon a small keg 
 before him. 
 
 Slowly the twilight gathered, like a mist rolling in at the 
 window over the disordered room ; creeping over the curious 
 little body that God had made the casket of a noble heart. 
 The hum of business died away upon the crowded streets; 
 the lamps were lit outside, and the twilight grew deeper about 
 Mr. Pufton in his lonely slumbers. 
 
 A light flickers about the room ; not the holy twilight, nor 
 the ray of the rising star, but a lurid glare, like the blaze of 
 a subterranean fire. Tiny figures, clothed in the fearful light, 
 take shapes of terror, and stand out in the darkness. The smile 
 fades from the sleeper's face. The fiendish forms gather 
 upon the broken casks; they come towards him. They 
 light upon his hands, his knees ; they cover the keg that 
 forms his footstool ; they cast threatening glances towards 
 him ; they scowl frightfully and beat upon his breast ; their 
 hot breath floats into his very nostrils: their eyes come 
 close to his; their bony fingers touch his cheeks. Still he 
 has no power to stir. Motionless he sits, as though a chain 
 had bound him hand and foot, watching the terrible figures, 
 and listening to their shrieks. 
 
 Suddenly the light that envelops them grows fainter ; 
 they gnash their teeth, but slowly recede. A sound like the 
 rustling of angel wings falls upon his ear. Down upon the 
 starbeams float two figures, clothed in a light purer than the 
 twilight, brighter than the sunbeam. In at the window, over 
 the broken casks, just above and on either side of the 
 sleeper. From the extended wings fall showers of light that 
 bathe him like a glorious halo. He smiles again. The 
 soul, roused from its long error by the silent appeal of two 
 marble infant faces, knows that those pure spirits, enfran-
 
 KATE WESTON. 339 
 
 chised from poverty, pain, and sore temptation, have come 
 back again to smile upon his high resolves. The fiends 
 fall back ; they cannot enter within that vail of purity. A 
 groan like the wail of a suffering demon, and Millie and 
 Charlie, glorious in angel garb, are alone with the slurn- 
 berer.
 
 340 KATE WESrON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 MR. PCFTON was awakened at seven o'clock by the bell 
 of the Old Brick Church, which stood but a short distance 
 
 r 
 
 from his store. He rubbed his eyes, and looked about him. 
 It was all dark, except the starlight coming in at the window. 
 He groped his way out and locked the door. He walked up 
 town in a quieter mood than he had ever done before. The 
 light falling from those angel wings had shed a soothing calm 
 over his spirit. He felt the effects of that blissful dream, 
 as truly as though, the illusion had been reality. And who 
 dare say that those two beautiful spirits came not down upon 
 the star-beam to shed blessings on his head, to whom their 
 departure from earth had been God's way of bringing truth 
 home to the erring heart ?" 
 
 Edward was the first person to whom the important deed 
 accomplished must be known. So away went Mr. Pufton to 
 Judge Ainslie's, refreshing himself by the way with an oyster 
 stew, and a cup of coffee. As he entered the parlor, Edward, 
 Kate, and Mrs. Maylie, were cosily chatting together before 
 the fire. He shook hands vehemently with his namesake and 
 Kate, and very faintly with Mrs. Maylie. For a moment her 
 presence restrained him from uttering the exclamation that 
 was on his lips, but before he was fairly seated, out it 
 came. 
 
 " It's done Edward Pufton Clarence all over finished 
 up entirely." 
 
 They all looked inquiringly at his contented face, and 
 Edward asked, "What have you done, sir?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 341 
 
 "I've broken up my establishment, sir knocked in the 
 rum casks, sir knocked out the brandy barrels, sir, knocked 
 to pieces the wine bottles, sir, and forsworn all meddling with 
 the wretched business for ever, sir." As he concluded, he 
 looked a little fiercely round upon the company, and his rosy 
 face grew rosier as he saw Mrs. Maylie's sudden start and 
 flush at his announcement. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Pufton," exclaimed Kate, " what ' change has 
 come o'er the spirit of your dream,' that you've done such 
 wonders without letting us know a word about it ? I half 
 believe you are joking now." 
 
 " No joke, I assure you," exclaimed Mr. Pufton, rubbing 
 his hands delightedly together. " Anything but a joke, 
 ma'am," he continued, addressing Mrs. Maylie ; " the whole 
 concern's blown up; no starting it again, either ; fact, ma'am, 
 I'm speaking Gospel truth, ma'am." 
 
 The lady whom he was particularly addressing was sitting 
 at the table, with her head reclining upon her hand. As 
 Kate's eyes encountered hers, there was something shining 
 out from them, that drew her attention from the more ani- 
 mated figure of the dapper little gentleman performing all 
 sorts of expressive pantomimes in the excess of his delight. 
 She said nothing, but her heart recognized the going forth of 
 that other woman's heart to the being for whom her best 
 life's love had been sealed till now. The little gentleman, 
 himself, however, didn't see anything particular, except that 
 Mrs. Maylie looked very much pleased, a circumstance of 
 course, which tickled him exceedingly, as did everything that 
 pleased anybody, more particulary that lady herself. 
 
 " Why, my dear sir," exclaimed Edward, " you are affirm- 
 ing impossibilities. How many times have I heard you 
 exhaust every argument in favor of your business to induce 
 Byng to enter Mr. Dunn's establishment." 
 
 "Facts, sir, are stubborn arguments, sir. No thrusting 
 aside facts sir. Remember Ryker, my boy, poor Ryker !"
 
 342 KATE WESTON. 
 
 and Mr. Pufton's fat hand went hastily up to his eyes, and as 
 hastily back again. 
 
 "But I thought you were at rest on that point," said 
 Edward, " since the widow's reform." 
 
 " Reform, sir bless your heart, sir, that's a different sort 
 of reform from what I bargained for, sir bless that baby, 
 sir !" and he mopped up his eyes with his little fat fingers 
 again. 
 
 " Come now," said Edward, " tell us what has happened ; 
 you only aggravate us with such hints ; we are all anxious to 
 know." 
 
 Mr. Pufton glanced again at Mrs. Maylie, and commenced a 
 history of the last two days' adventures, related in a charac- 
 teristic manner, broken up by sobs and chuckles, and all 
 sorts of interjections, and concluded by an avowal of absti- 
 nence from the sale and use of anything of the sort for ever. 
 "Fact is, Ned, my boy," he exclaimed, jumping up, and 
 paddling up and down the room, with a very indignant coun- 
 tenance, " fact is, I ought to have been hung long ago, and 
 then this wouldn't have happened at all. No, sir, I've been 
 a fool, sir all my life, sir, but am determined," here he strut- 
 ted pompously and resolutely, " to be a fool no longer." 
 
 They had all shed tears at some parts of his relation, but 
 there was a quiet smile more within than upon one face, in 
 which Kate read a world of hidden meaning, and when Mrs, 
 Maylie rose to leave the room she understood as perfectly the 
 message conveyed to her in that single glance, as though 
 it had been spoken in words. 
 
 " Good evening ma'am," exclaimed Mr. Pufton, bowing reve- 
 rently, as though to a stranger of high rank ; " had hoped to 
 enjoy more of your society this evening, ma'am, but " 
 
 For one instant he caught a strange light shooting from the 
 eyes that had been his load-stars for fourteen years ; his face 
 flashed, and his voice failed; but the next instant, the long 
 eye-lashes shaded the eyes again, and with a graceful cour-
 
 KATE WESTON. 343 
 
 lesy, Mrs. May lie disappeared. For a few moments Mr. Puf- 
 lon stood still just where she had left him, profoundly con- 
 templating- the floor. Edward and Kate were greatly edified, 
 but looked grave enough when he turned round with a half- 
 guilty look, and recommenced his self-denunciation. 
 
 " You see this, sir, I was old enough to have seen things 
 before, sir, there's the trouble, sir, don't think I'll ever get 
 over it, sir, those two little angels being sent out of the world, 
 sir, and in such a manner, sir." 
 
 " The world is full of trouble and temptation, sir," said 
 Edward, looking with a half sigh into the fire. 
 
 Kate sighed too, as she watched the shadow on his face, 
 but after an instant she said softly, " Jesus says, * Suffer little 
 children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such 
 i the Kingdom of Heaven.' " 
 
 The round face brightened. "Yes, suppose they're bet- 
 ter off no doubt of it and, God help me, I'll take care of 
 the one that's left so I will ;" then turning suddenly round, 
 he exclaimed, " you did it Edward, you know you did remem- 
 ber the day you took me up into that garret ? one gone the 
 other just going that wretched mother ! ugh ! 'twas murder, 
 murder outright and this one the fat Dutchman, too that 
 buys some thousand gallons a year of me, sir bought, sir 
 bought he'll never buy again no sir NO !" 
 
 Having finished his sentence with a tremendous emphasis, 
 he inserted both hands in his pockets, and took two or three 
 more warlike marches up and down the room. 
 
 Edward still gazed sadly into the fire, and Kate, her eyes 
 fixed upon his face, felt the " shadow " that had crept and 
 crept, until " it was looking over the shoulder of the sunshine " 
 in those happy hearts, so young, hopeful, and loving. She 
 could hardly define the feeling, but it was there, stirring the 
 gentle heart, and looking from the gentle eyes ; the dread of 
 that which could so desolate one home, humble though it 
 were, came upon her spirit, as she watched the face so manly,
 
 344 KATE WESTON. 
 
 so beautiful, so full of the varied expression of a generous, 
 unchanging heart. 
 
 Presently she thought of Mrs. Maylie, and suddenly rising 
 she said carelessly, " I'll be back directly," and flew up to that 
 lady's room. The door was locked, but she called softly, and 
 Mrs. Maylie opened it. She was enveloped in a capacious 
 wrapper; her curls, which Kate had always seen carefully 
 looped with the back hair, hung, in luxuriant carelessness 
 about her face. Kate could not help noticing that they were 
 rather more carefully arranged than her dishabille would 
 have indicated, nor thinking that the flushed cheek and 
 sparkling eye were more the index of what merry Sophie 
 Ainslie might have been than what the stately Mrs. Maylie 
 was. She knew her companion too well, however, to allude 
 to anything of the sort ; she merely said, toying with a little 
 china basket on the table, 
 
 " Edward and I are going out for an hour or two ; I pro- 
 mised him that I would step into the Academy of Design 
 to-night ; you had better come down and entertain Mr. Puf- 
 ton. Clarence, you know, is asleep poor boy, after his last 
 night's wakefulness, and my favorite will be fidgety, I'm 
 sure, if he's left alone." There was the slightest- mischief in 
 the world in Kate's tone and eye, but Mrs. Maylie saw it, and 
 her cheek flushed deeper than ever. 
 
 " I will come down after you are gone ; but," she added, 
 hesitatingly, " don't tell Mr. Pufton so." 
 
 Kate smiled as she answered, " No, certainly, if you do not 
 wish it ; we shall probably be out for a couple of hours ; 
 Edward is so fond of painting that he never can be per- 
 suaded to leave until the last minute. Is your patience equal 
 to the task ?" 
 
 Mrs. Maylie didn't raise her eyes as she replied with appa- 
 rent indifference, "I think so, my dear; if my patience 
 becomes exhausted, I shall take the liberty of leaving him to 
 entertain himself."
 
 KATE WESTON. 345 
 
 " Come Edward," exclaimed Kate, as she entered the par- 
 lor, equipped for her walk, " we were going out this evening ; 
 Mr. Pufton, you know we would be delighted with your com- 
 pany, but I have been writing a letter home, and I want you 
 to write a page or two, just to bear testimony to our good 
 behavior." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear ; write to your mother, my dear, 
 noble woman that, my dear don't believe any testimony is 
 needed though, she knows that, my dear daughter's a chip 
 of the old block, that she is, my dear beg pardon, my dear, 
 for using a vulgar expression, my dear most appropriate 
 though, my dear ;" and the hearty little face looked oceans 
 of admiration on the fair being through whose blue eyes so 
 much of the soul's beauty was poured upon those who had the 
 purity to feel and appreciate its power. 
 
 " I think Mr. Pufton will dance when he reaches home 
 to-night," said Kate, as soon as they were fairly off the 
 steps. 
 
 " Why, darling ?" answered Edward ; " that would be windr 
 ing up in comedy fashion, sure enough ; I should think he 
 would feel like anything but dancing." 
 
 " Don't say a word about it now, if I tell you a story, will 
 you ? It's no use asking you that, though, because I know 
 you will tell the first chance you find. But you'll use every 
 effort to keep it to yourself until we reach home again, won't 
 you, dear?" 
 
 " I suppose I shall have to promise to satisfy you, if you 
 think me such a tell-tale," said Edward, laughing. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Ainslie told me one day the whole history of 
 Mrs. Maylie's marriage. When she was only sixteen, she saw 
 Mr. Pufton at a party which had been given by the young 
 ladies- of the boarding school with which she was associated. 
 In the course of the evening they entertained the company 
 with some tableaux, in which Mrs. Maylie represented Night. 
 She wore a heavy black robe and vail, spangled all over with 
 
 15*
 
 346 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 stars, and on her forehead, above a magnificent coiffure of 
 natural curls, rested a new moon, all setting off to the best 
 advantage, her peculiar style of beauty. After the tableaux 
 were over, the young ladies mingled with the guests without 
 doffing their fanciful costume. 
 
 " It was in that tableau that Mr. Pufton first saw her ; and 
 that very evening an acquaintance budded which afterwards 
 ripened into a real affection." 
 
 Edward laughed ; " Mr. Pufton wasn't so fat and rosy then 
 as he is now, Kate. But I'm sure I can't remember the time 
 when he wasn't as peculiar." 
 
 " Oh well, I suppose everybody that ever knew him loved 
 him a great deal better for it ; it's the peculiarity of a heart 
 so full of goodnature, that it boils over on all sides, making 
 the greatest sputtering that but there, I'm getting away from 
 my story. Sophie Ainslie had engaged herself to Mr. Puf- 
 ton before her father knew a word about it. He had some- 
 how formed a prejudice against the eccentric young man, 
 and being a very stubborn man, he prevented the marriage. 
 Sophie was quite unhappy for a while, but, as the disappointed 
 suitor had striven to forget her by leaving the country, the 
 wound was partially healed at last, and two years after 
 she was induced to marry a wealthy widower with one 
 child." 
 
 " None of that seems at all like her !" exclaimed Edward. 
 "I should have thought she would have persisted in never 
 marrying any one else but Mr. Pufton, at any rate. Her 
 sense of duty would be too great for her to marry against her 
 father's wish, but she is the very last person I should have 
 thought capable of yielding her hand where her heart was 
 wanting." 
 
 " Sophia Ainslie," answered Kate, " was not at all like Mrs. 
 Maylie. Mrs. Ainslie told me all about it. She said that the 
 change in her character is actually remarkable. Sophie 
 Ainslie was a warm-hearted, affectionate girl, and having lost
 
 KATE WESTON. 347 
 
 her mother when she was quite young, all her respect and 
 love were given to her father. He really made her believe 
 that she loved Mr. Maylie, so, although she sighed at the 
 mention of Edward Pufton's name, she became the wife of 
 another. For two years she lived with her father, and she, 
 simple-hearted girl, didn't see but what she was about as well 
 off as ever. She walked, talked, read with her father, just as 
 she always had ; Mr. Maylie was away all day, and often all 
 night, on business, and little Sophronia was in charge of Miss 
 Maylie, an elderly sister of her husband's. 
 
 " But when her father died, then her trials commenced. 
 Oh, Edward, how dreadful it must be to wed an uncongenial 
 spirit ! there is " 
 
 " And how delightful to wed a congenial one !" exclaimed 
 her companion, pressing her arm closer to his side. 
 
 " Never mind, don't interrupt me, sir," said Kate. " You 
 can imagine what Mr. Maylie was, when I tell you that 
 Sophronia is almost his fac-siinile in character, except that he 
 was more stern and precise, as a man must be, than his 
 daughter. What sort of sympathy could there be now, 
 between such a man, and a frank, warm-hearted girl, whose 
 soul poured out every sorrow and joy the instant she was con- 
 scieus of its existence. As soon as her father was gone, 
 hefj heart yearned for sympathy and companionship ; she 
 turned now to her husband ; but he treated all her outgush- 
 ings of tears, smiles, and gentle words of love as the caprices 
 of a child, soothing her, not by gentle reasoning, and an inter- 
 change of sympathy, but exactly, Mrs. Ainslie says, ' as one 
 would manage a spoilt child.' If she expressed a wish for 
 anything, however important, or however trifling, he was sure 
 to get it for her. But he would smile suspiciously at her 
 pretty fancies ; and when she had been pouring out tearful 
 yearnings for a love such as her father had rendered her, he 
 would put his arm about her waist, and stoop to kiss her, 
 saying, ' Oh, my dear, you cannot always be a child ; throw off
 
 348 KATE WESTON. 
 
 that childishness now, I admire dignity in a woman, and it 
 would so become you.' 
 
 " So the young wife crowded back her love, and smiles, and 
 tears, praying and weeping only when alone. In time she 
 became the dignified, stately lady that we have known But 
 Mrs. Ainslie says the old love and buoyancy is yet in her 
 heart, and that she doesn't think it at all impossible that 
 it should break away that hard crust of reserve which has 
 been so long in forming." 
 
 " Why, Kate, her history is a perfect little romance, only 
 wanting her union with Mr. Pufton to complete the tale. 
 But Mr. Pufton would make a funny hero of romance, 
 wouldn't he ?" 
 
 " Wait, wait," said Kate emphatically, " you'll see what sort 
 of a hero he makes by and by. I saw the crust breaking to- 
 night. Dear Mrs. Maylie ! I always loved her ; I saw the 
 love down .at the core of her heart, at any rate, and felt it too, 
 long ago." She has shown her affection for Mr. Pufton a hun- 
 dred times by a glance or tone ; I've seen it." 
 
 " Oh, Kate, you're so observing ; why in the world wouldn't 
 she marry him then ; I'm sure he's been utterly devoted to 
 her for his whole life." 
 
 " You'll see, you'll see why before long ; If Mr. Pufton 
 doesn't dance the Virginia reel when he reaches home to- 
 night, I'll be a false prophet forevermore. But here we are ; 
 why, I had actually forgotten where we were going." 
 
 What had been going on at home all this time in that 
 pleasant parlor where a noble little gentleman had seated 
 himself to write, and in the boudoir above where a beautiful 
 woman was struggling with a newly-startled heart that 
 throbbed and quivered as it had done seventeen years ago in 
 the cherished home of her childhood's love ? 
 
 Kate had no sooner left the room than Mrs. Maylie again 
 locked the door, and dropping the loose wrapper from her 
 shoulders revealed a robe of black, thickly studded with
 
 KATE WESTOX. 349 
 
 golden stars. Uncovering a box that stood upon the chair, 
 she took from it a crescent, and stepping to the glass, adjusted 
 it carefully above her curls ; then, fastening within it a long, 
 black vail, also dotted with stars, she stood for a moment before 
 the glass. One instant her lip quivered, and she leaned against 
 the table for support, pressing her hand upon her heart, as 
 though to hold back the wild gush of feeling that could not 
 be controlled. 
 
 The fragile girl of sixteen was far less lovely in the dress, 
 that, although carefully preserved, had dimmed the lustre of 
 its gold, than the stately creature who stood there in the per- 
 fect symmetry of womanhood. The crescent above her fore- 
 head, the flowing vail and robes sending back in a thousand 
 places the lustre of the radiant lights, the dark curls, all served 
 to set off perfectly the pure complexion and perfect contour 
 of the face. But the beauty of feature was nothing to the 
 mellow radiance that beamed from the lustrous eyes, and over 
 the flushed cheeks. There was something too, in the figure, 
 less majestic, but infinitely more charming. The head was 
 erect, the foot firm as usual, but there was a something, like a 
 shadow of light that made her seem more like the tender, 
 loving child of earlier days, than the unapproachable woman 
 of maturer life. 
 
 Mr. Pufton had seated himself at the centre-table with 
 Kate's writing desk. Taking out a sheet of paper and pen, 
 after essaying several times to sit down composedly before it 
 he at last succeeded in settling himself abstractedly to the 
 task. Now came a new difficulty ; there was only a small 
 quantity of ink in the stand, and every insertion of the pen 
 only brought out a blot upon his paper. After various excla- 
 mations of astonishment at the unaccomodating ink-stand, he 
 at last succeeded entirely to his satisfaction, by poising one 
 edge upon a small book, and commencing operations in 
 earnest. He went on writing a full half page without stirring 
 from his position. A side door softly opened, and the God-
 
 350 KATE WESTON. 
 
 dess of Night glided up to the mantel. But the writer was 
 intent upon his sheet. For several minutes his head bent over 
 the desk, and his pen flew along the page. The clock on the 
 mantel struck. He looked towards it; there stood the 
 vision that had haunted all the life of love within, since first 
 he came to man's estate. There stood the Sophie of his 
 early love, one hand shading her eyes, as like to the moveless 
 statue he had first seen her as the dream he had so often con- 
 jured through the years of hopeless love. For an instant he 
 seemed petrified. Then suddenly giving the desk a little jerk 
 that sent the ink soaking through velvet cover, embossed 
 paper, envelopes and all, he jumped up, and flew towards her, 
 with such a hope-light beaming from the round, bright eyes, 
 as made the jocund face, rosy nose and all, actually beautiful. 
 Suddenly he paused ; the figure did not move ; the color 
 of the cheek deepened, but the eyes were still shaded with 
 the hand ; he spoke softly, as though afraid the vision would 
 vanish at his voice ; " Mrs. Maylie Sophie Madam par- 
 don" 
 
 The hand dropped; eyes, filled with tears, and further 
 back, shining through their crystal vail, with woman's quench- 
 less love, looked into his face. He started forward, catch- 
 ing both her hands in his. "Mine at last, Sophie? God 
 bless you, Sophie Time has gone back, Sophie Sophie 
 Ainslie !" 
 
 Not Youth, nor outward Beauty winneth woman's love ; but 
 youth of heart, and the inner beauty that maketh of the sin- 
 ful human breast a shrine where dwelleth Faith Hope 
 Charity. 
 
 Didrit Mr. Pufton dance when he reached home that 
 night ? Didn't he wheel in all sorts of unimagined pirouettes 
 up and down- the floor of his solitary chamber ? Didn't he tip 
 over the pitcher upon the velvet carpet, and knock down all 
 the chairs that happened to be in his way ? Didn't he put on 
 "his flannel night-cap wrong-side before, and get into bed with
 
 KATE WESTON. 351 
 
 his boots on ? Didn't he have dreams of goddesses in starry 
 robes, and eyes that seemed like suns rising out of the dark- 
 ness ? Didn't he see little winged cherubs and empty brandy 
 casks, and a fat little gentleman in an easy-chair sailing bliss- 
 fully through the air together ? Didn't he work harder and 
 feel happier in his dreams than he had all day, and wake up 
 in the morning, feeling equal, if necessary, to do battle with 
 the world for the remainder of his mortal life ? 
 
 When Kate returned, she smiled through her chagrin, at 
 finding the half-finished letter on her ruined desk, and said 
 laughingly to Edward, " Here is a proof that my prediction 
 will be fulfilled, at any rate, but it is rather hard that / must 
 pay a penalty for its fulfillment." 
 
 The next day, however, Kate felt herself amply repaid for 
 the destruction of her desk, by receiving one of five times its 
 value, inlaid with gold, and supplied with perquisites of the 
 finest quality. Another proof, she thought, that my predic- 
 tion was fulfilled. She carried it up to Mrs. Maylie for her 
 admiration. Somehow that lady seemed more approachable 
 than usual, for Kate said archly as she kissed her cheek, " I 
 wonder if Mr. Pufton deserves all my thanks for this beautiful 
 gift?" 
 
 Mrs. Maylie blushed, but there was not the slightest dis- 
 pleasure in her voice, as she answered softly, " Nous verrons?
 
 352 .KATE WESTON. 
 
 THREE years vanished in the mists of past Eternity. New 
 graves were scattered in the church-yard. New altars had 
 been erected to earthly love. New flowers of immortality 
 had blossomed in many homes. New thorns had torn the 
 feet of weary pilgrims in a world of suffering and toil. New 
 temptations had loomed up in the way of the unwary. New 
 tears had been wept above the early dead, and souls had 
 gone to be tried at a new tribunal for the deeds done in the 
 body. 
 
 Change is floating ever in the wake of Time. The hoary 
 spectre presses on, unceasing in his flight, and Change, vigor- 
 ous in unending youth, scatters from one hand life, beauty, 
 blessing from the other, suffering, decay, and death. 
 
 There was one vacant chair in the Westons' home. A 
 widow struggled hard to bow to His decree who had taken to 
 Himself the noble heart he had lent to cheer the path a 
 Christian treads to Heaven. A daughter, beautiful in the 
 flush of womanhood, had taken her first great lesson in the 
 school of trial through which has passed every saint of those 
 around the throne " who have come out of great tribulation, 
 and washed their robes and made them white in the blood 
 of the Lamb." 
 
 Other trials, too, had left their impress on the gentle brow, 
 and purified the inner soul. The warm love of woman's 
 heart springing up in infancy, growing with her growth, and 
 strengthening with her strength, mourned over one foot that 
 many a time ere this had erred from the path of rectitude.
 
 KATE WESTON. 353 
 
 Alas for Edward ! Temptation was too powerful for one so 
 flattered and caressed in early youth. He had been sent to 
 the State Legislature at twenty-four, and now at twenty-six 
 he was talked of as a candidate for the State Senate. Society 
 had laid out all its charms for the beautiful and talented 
 youth so keenly susceptible to its influence. The class of 
 society, too, in which he had mingled, was different from 
 that of his earlier years. Piety and intelligence were the 
 passports to his father's home, and in their atmosphere the 
 frank ardent youth had breathed the pure air of holiness and 
 truth. 
 
 But the giddy world, with a new standard of worth, new 
 motives for labor, new rewards for success, had been drawing 
 him slowly into the whirlpool of its pleasures. Not that he 
 disbelieved the heavenly lessons of his earlier years, but he 
 had forgotten them, or when recalled by an anxious father's 
 pleadings, or by Kate's loving words, he thought of them as 
 the mariner who loves the swelling billow, thinks of the quiet 
 land, with a half-pity in his heart for those who so peacefully 
 repcse upon its breast. 
 
 Yes, Edward loved the " great wild billow " on which his 
 bark was tossed. He enjoyed the eager battle for precedence, 
 the glory of victory, the whirl of worldly pleasure. Was it 
 strange then, that Kate, yet robed in mourning for her father, 
 should bear always in her heart that last broken murmur of 
 a father's voice, " Love not the world, neither the things that 
 are in the world," or that her eyes should often dim with 
 tears, that for him in whom her whole heart's hopes were 
 centered, she must weep and pray alone ? 
 
 The period first designated by the young physician for their 
 union was occupied in smoothing the way of a suffering 
 parent to the grave. When winter came, and Edward was 
 so immersed in the pursuit of Fame, then first Kate's heart 
 began to feel truly startled for his safety. She knew that 
 perils are strewn all along the way of the ambitious, unknown
 
 354 KATE WESTON. 
 
 to those who walk meekly " all their appointed time, till their 
 change come." But she had not been aware of the peculiar 
 fascinations such a life' would bear to the object of her love. 
 
 She saw him almost worshiped by many of his admirers. 
 She saw him intoxicated with the excitement of constant 
 activity in an occupation that had always been his chief 
 delight. She saw him yielding often to the power of wine, 
 and conscience told her as she softly said, " Lead us not into 
 temptation," that if she were to enter the world of his plea- 
 sures, she would no longer have a right thus to pray, when 
 she had cast herself, and was encouraging him in the midst 
 of temptations whence few come forth unscathed. 
 
 Mr. Pufton was not much altered, except that his face was 
 a little less rosy, and his manner, perhaps, a little less abrupt 
 than in the days of his bachelor-life. Mrs. Pufton had taken 
 back much of the frank buoyancy of her early youth, so that 
 her dignity served to render more winning the gentle frank- 
 ness of her heart. Judge Ainslie's family bad passed through 
 no very important changes, except that a rosy-cheeked boy 
 sometimes asserted his supremacy at the table by appealing 
 from Alice to " Ganma " for anything to which he happened 
 to take a- fancy. Little Ned was a vast favorite too, with 
 poor blind Clarence, who carried him about on one arm, 
 indulging every whim, and listening to every murmur. Poor 
 Clarence ! to his little nephew alone was his voice always 
 gentle now, for sickness and intemperance had so grown upon 
 him, that each had made vast inroads on both mental and 
 physical faculties. It was a piercing thorn within a mother's 
 heart, the result of that son's blindness. Her cheek grew 
 pale and wan, her eye sunken, but when the wound was sorest, 
 she remembered that " there is balm in Gilead and a physi- 
 cian there." Often when sleep was brooding on the eyelids 
 of every other member of her household, did that mother 
 kneel at the bedside of her inebriate son, and pour such pray- 
 ers as only mothers can.
 
 KATE WESTON. 355 
 
 But the night was long and dreary. No light to the dark- 
 ened eyes or heart. All night, in which the tempest of fierce 
 passion howled, and moon and stars refused their light. 
 Should there be no morning? Often through that fearful 
 night of years, went up the cry of anguish from the unwearied 
 love of a mother's breast. " How long, Lord, how 
 long ?" 
 
 Sometimes the soul rebelled. She could but remember 
 that of all the children given her of God, Clarence was the 
 gentlest, most loving, and most appreciative of her own affec- 
 tion. She could but think, as the figure matured to manhood, 
 of what he would have been without disease or its terrible 
 results. It was to him that her eye had looked for the chief 
 solace of later years ; but now, he was adding cares many and 
 hard to bear, to those already laid on her by an all-wise God. 
 But, pressing back these murmuring thoughts, she kept her 
 eye fixed on one great object the final salvation of her erring 
 son ; and to this her best energies were ever directed. She 
 strove to remember that " weeping endureth for the night, but 
 joy cometh in the morning ;" and she would not believe that 
 no morning should dawn upon her sightless boy. 
 
 Mary had become the wife of Mr. Steele, whose growing 
 reputation had won for him an honorable place in Laconia. 
 Maggie, faithful and patient as ever, had taken charge of the 
 district school, showing forth in the monotonous course of 
 daily life, the power of that grace which was able to keep 
 her even unto the end, and remaining, ever since that first 
 earnest endeavor to lead a soul to Jesus, a faithful co-laborer 
 with the young clergyman and his unselfish wife. 
 
 ******* 
 
 On a warm afternoon during the Indian summer, Edward 
 was walking from his office towards Mrs. Weston's. That 
 misty haze peculiar to the season, had cast over the land- 
 scape its softening charm; but there was something in the 
 young man's eye that gave not back an answering glance to
 
 356 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the calm gaze of nature looking down reproachfully upon 
 erring human life. 
 
 The full, dark, eye was not a whit less fascinating, nor the 
 fine profile less classic than in his boyish days. The thick 
 curls, defying all attempts of the barber's skill, curled as be- 
 witchingly as ever. But a look of weariness and anxiety was 
 settled on his brow that spoke of riper manhood. Ivor was 
 that all. A flush lay on either cheek that seemed hardly 
 natural, although adding to the brilliant beauty of the intel- 
 lectual face. As he strolled thoughtfully along, a shadow 
 ever and anon flitted over his brow, 
 
 " Like that by a cloud in a summer's day made, 
 Looking down on a field of blossoming clover.'' 
 
 Memories, hopes and fears were thrilling within his bosom 
 with strange, almost painful power. He had listened to words 
 of adulation, he had made hearts throb, and pulses quicken, 
 even in the halls where statesmen were gathered to pencil out 
 their country's destiny. He had taken part in the gay revel, 
 where bright eyes grew brighter, rosy cheeks rosier at his 
 coming. Yet he felt, down in his heart of hearts, that one 
 deep changeless love was more than all these to his spirit. 
 Why not thrust them from thee then, young, noble heart, and 
 take nestling to thy breast the dove whose meek eyes should 
 charm away the demon of unrest that already tortures thee 
 with unceasing murmurs. 
 
 God help the child of Fame ! no mortal can. 
 
 As he passed up between the fragrant artemisias, Mrs. 
 Weston came down stairs and advanced to the open door. 
 
 " Does thee prosper to-day, Edward ? come in." 
 
 " So so a little headache, that is all." 
 
 The old lady's calm eyes looked anxiously over her glasses 
 at his face ; she heaved a gentle sigh. " If I may be so bold 
 Edward, I'm afraid thee is getting too fond of late hours. 
 Thee is so dear to me that I must tell thee." 
 
 Edward's cheek colored with a deeper flush. " It's neces-
 
 KATE WESTON. 357 
 
 sary just now, Mrs. Western. I hope some day to be able to 
 return to my old habits again. Where is Kate ?" 
 
 " She has gone down to the grove with her book ; it was 
 so pleasant to-day that I thought it would do her good. Theo 
 can go right down there, my son." 
 
 The calm eyes were fixed intently upon the figure of the 
 being who, to that tender mother's heart, was dearer now 
 than any living soul save one. Her face wore an expression 
 of anxious thought as she watched him, which deepened into 
 intense melancholy, as he disappeared among the trees. 
 " God bless the boy, for He has given him too broad a heritage 
 for his own managing," and she walked slowly into the lonely 
 sitting-room. 
 
 [t was Kate's especial delight to have roses blossoming in 
 autumn when the wealth of summer was scattered. The 
 entrance to her favorite retreat was bordered on either side by 
 a number of monthly rose trees in full blossom. One, how- 
 ever, which she had taken special care to cultivate, this year 
 had not repaid her etTorts. It was a white moss rose, 
 Edward's favorite, because, he said, it always reminded him of 
 her. During the whole summer it had not borne a single 
 flower, but now at last, one bud shot up its slender green, and 
 was ripening to perfect beauty. They had both watched its 
 gradual opening from day to day, and each, unknown to the 
 other, and almost unconsciously, had linked its fate with hers 
 who had so cherished the tree through years of prosperous 
 growth. 
 
 As Edward passed it, he paused for a moment. A spider 
 had strung its web over the half-opened petals, and across the 
 leaves about it. He carefully removed the web, but as he 
 pulled away a portion that clung around the stem, his finger 
 scratched against a thorn, and the beautiful flower broke 
 short off, still, however, adhering to his hand. He stood 
 motionless for a few moments, looking ruefully at the broken 
 flower, now stained with the blood that oozed copiously from
 
 358 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the wound. Then carefully extricating the thorn, he opened 
 his bosom, and with an air of tenderness, as though the inno- 
 cent little bud were a living, feeling creature, he laid it next 
 his heart. As he turned again towards the grove, there, 
 between the trees, at the water's edge, stood Kate, watching 
 his movements, her cheeks blanched, her lips apart, and her 
 eyes full of something half between love and fear. He stopped 
 for a moment as though she had spoken a reproach, then hur- 
 ried towards her with the very same glance of tenderness with 
 which lie had regarded the broken flower. 
 
 As they stood for one instant there, they would have 
 seemed, to one who could not read the heart, true types of 
 true man and true woman. He, with the tall figure, lofty 
 carriage, eagle eye, and intellectual face ; she with woman's 
 and a Christian's heart, stamped on the slender figure, and on 
 every feature of the fair, pure face, gazing on each other with 
 a sort of tender terror that pierced to either soul. 
 
 Before Edward reached her, she had sunk down upon the 
 grass, and burying her face in her hands, was weeping bit- 
 terly. A chill struck to his heart; he laid his arm about her, 
 and strove to raise her from the ground. But the tears flowed 
 faster, the sobs burst forth with keener anguish in their moan. 
 He looked alarmed. " Kate, dearest, why do you weep so ?" 
 and he fairly lifted her unresisting figure and led her to the 
 same little rustic bench from which they had first gazed into 
 the limpid stream, that gave back two faces in one sweet pic- 
 ture, the unchangeable emblem of their future destiny. 
 
 Kate was a true Christian, but suffering had not yet per- 
 fected the rebellious human heart, and this time she could not 
 submit to conscience without a struggle. The very tender- 
 ness of Edward's voice as he strove to soothe her caused but a 
 keener pang, and rendered it more difficult for judgment and 
 duty to triumph over affection, as she had resolved they 
 should when she next met him. 
 
 " Edward, leave me for ten minutes, and I shall be able to
 
 KATE WESTON. 359 
 
 tell you nay, you must leave me, or I shall have to return 
 to the house." 
 
 " But, dearest, who but me should soothe away your sor- 
 rows ? You know that I would gladly devote " 
 
 " Leave me leave me," cried Kate in a sort of agony. 
 " I cannot bear that you should talk so ; go to the parlor for 
 ten minutes, please Edward." 
 
 He looked doubtfully at her, then kissed her cheek, and 
 turned towards the house. 
 
 Kate dropped upon her knees to pray. How hard it was, 
 there, on the spot haPowed by the precious dreams of years, 
 to give him up. She had not meant to meet him there. But 
 he had come to her bearing the broken flower, an omen of 
 her fate. How the heart, still clinging to an earthly love, 
 struggled with its own throbbings, and prayed for strength to 
 quell them. It was. harder, too, to dash kis happiness away, 
 than to feel her own was gone. Such tasks sometimes are 
 ordained of God to try His children's fidelity to Him. But 
 the Spirit never forsakes those who call aloud for Almighty 
 aid. When the wild storm of feeling was hushed in prayer, 
 God sent his Comforter with words that rung through all 
 the chambers of her soul, " As thy day, so shall thy strength 
 be." 
 
 When Edward returned, she was sitting there, with her 
 hands folded on her lap, and her face calm ; but her cheeks 
 wore a hectic flush, and her eyes were fixed upon the water. 
 
 "Well, Katie, tell me now why you wept so bitterly? 
 Was your rose of such vast moment, or have I offended you 
 in any other way ?" 
 
 As he spoke, there was a tremor in his voice that told his 
 listener of the reproach his heart was uttering for worse than 
 the accidental breaking of a rose. 
 
 " Edward," said Kate, in a low, quivering voice, and without 
 raising her eyes, " you have thought me wanting in affection 
 to defer the period to which we have both looked as the hap-
 
 360 KATE WESTON. 
 
 piest moment of our lives." She paused to gather breath, 
 for her voice almost choked. Edward's face flushed almost 
 to scarlet, but he said nothing, and Kate continued : " Events 
 have occurred which have led me to feel that our mutual 
 happiness would never follow our union." 
 
 " Then you have ceased to love me, Kate !" 
 
 The quiver that played at the corners of the lovely mouth 
 was answer enough ; but she said in a still lower tone, " I 
 shall love you Edward, and you only, till the day I die ; but 
 I know that under present circumstances, I should not add to 
 your happiness." 
 
 " Kate, do you not believe that I would give up anything 
 for you?" 
 
 " I do not ask it. I shall only pray " 
 
 " Pray what, Kate ?" this with an eager tremor. 
 
 " That you may learn at last to give up all for Christ." 
 
 " But I will leave all to-morrow, if you will be my wife." 
 
 The speaking eyes were for a moment upraised. " Your 
 chance in the Senate !" 
 
 " You do not wish that. I mean all my associates, and 
 wine, if you wish it, Kate." 
 
 Her eyes fell again. " There is no safety out of the Ark, 
 Christ Jesus. Oh ! Edward, give up your nomination, leave 
 all your old acquaintances and temptations, and let us fly to 
 some place of refuge." 
 
 " I have pledged myself to stand by the party I represent^ 
 and you, Kate, would be the last to induce me to violate a 
 pledge." 
 
 " It cannot be !" sobbed Kate, again bursting into tears. 
 " We must part. I can never be yours, Edward. Go, and 
 forget me." 
 
 " Forget you, Kate !" 
 
 She pressed back the tears, and stood up, pointing to a 
 linden tree in the garden, just visible between the shrubbery. 
 "There is the tree that was to be like you, Edward. It has
 
 SATE WESTON. 361 
 
 been drooping for two or three seasons, and now you see it 
 has become leafless before any other tree in the garden." 
 
 " And you would thrust aside the withered branches, to be 
 nursed by no fostering hand, nor nourished by any sunlight," 
 answered Edward, with some bitterness. 
 
 " No, Edward, it is not that ; I would spend my life in try- 
 ing to restore its beauty, did I not know that so to do were 
 sin, and could be productive of no happiness. I only spoke 
 to tell you this ; no power but that of God, no sun but that 
 of piety, can bring life to the heart so mixed up with the 
 cares and pleasures of this world as to forget Heaven." 
 
 Her voice had gathered strength, and she looked, as the 
 red autumn sunlight streamed through the foliage on her 
 figure, like a beautiful prophetess giving forth the oracles of 
 God. " No, Edward, I can not become your wife ; but I will 
 pray for you as you pass on your way of peril, and I will 
 believe that, at some far distant day, perhaps, when ambition 
 has ceased to lure, and you have achieved a temporary vic- 
 tory over that mightier tyrant, wine, you will be brought to 
 the feet of Him who will sustain in suffering, shield in temp- 
 tation, and deliver from evil all who come unto Him." 
 
 She paused for an instant, then stepping nearer to him, she 
 said tremulously, " And now, Edward, you must not see me 
 for some time again ; we could not bear it, until we had 
 learned to think of one another as dear friends, but nothing 
 more. My heart is yours till death. Good-bye." She 
 pressed her lips to his forehead, and two or three hot tears 
 dropped upon his face. 
 
 He put out his arms to detain her. But she was gone. 
 He watched her gliding swiftly up the path, and it seemed to 
 him that the angel of his life went with her from his presence 
 for ever.
 
 362 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " ROOM, there room ! I hain't got my vote in yet. 
 Faugh, you smell as strong here, as though you'd been pour- 
 ing down raw brandy by the pailful," and red-whiskered 
 Jonathan Meeks blustered his way to the polls through the 
 half-drunken crowd, with as much ease as a man might scat- 
 ter a lot of monkeys on either side. 
 
 " Nebber seed nuffin like yer, dis nigger didn't, nohow !" 
 shouted Lame Joe, rolling his eyes, and showing his teeth. 
 " Since dat mem'able 'casion ob yer refferation, 'pears yer's a 
 smellin' eberyting under de sun. Tink yer's snifflefied yer 
 own bref some time back, dis nigger does now." Joe looked 
 very philosophical, and scratched his head accordingly. 
 
 " Jonathan's cold water man now," exclaimed Tom Brown, 
 looking ten years older than we last saw him. " Better turn 
 Methodist, Jonathan, like friend Jones. So happy to get his 
 freedom since he's been bachelor, went and turned sarm- 
 singer on the strength of it." 
 
 "Don't say nuffin," said Joe in an undertone, grinning 
 from ear to ear, " reckon sornebody'd sing hi-lorious sarms if 
 he'd a got a wife at all ; 'pears quare now, don't it ?" 
 
 Brown turned redder in the face than ever. " I thought 
 Joe, you know'd your place, sir " 
 
 " Hi," said Joe, with his arms on one side. 
 
 Brown turned up his cuffs, and squared himself. Joe burst 
 into a guffaw, and two or three of the bystanders, who had 
 laughed before, shouted, " Give it him, Joe ; give it him." 
 
 " 'Pears now, dat ain't fair play, nohow ; I could throw yer
 
 KATE WESTON. 363 
 
 out doors, in a half a minute, don't yer know dat now ? 
 Lawsakes, don't know nuffin 'bout Joe yet, don't mean nuffin 
 'fall, jes' little fun, dat's all." 
 
 " Polls closed !' Seven o'clock," shouted Jonathan Meeks, 
 returning through the crowd. " Guess Clarence'll get it for 
 Senator; what, Teddy, you here?" The huge, whiskered 
 fellow stooped and lifted Teddy Toole from a low bench 
 where he had fallen from sheer want of ability to keep him- 
 self upright. " Save us, can't you do nothing but carry on 
 this way. Why, man, you're dead drunk already, come 
 along home." 
 
 "Dat feller can't stan' noting noway, han't regested no 
 more'n ole Joe ; 'pears Rosey'd look quite smilin' if I didn't 
 imbulge no farder." 
 
 "So much the more shame for you, then," answered 
 Jonathan, at the same time making an effort to draw Teddy 
 after him. " Great, strong chaps like you never does show 
 the drink so quick. But it'll show after a while ; when the 
 horrors comes again, Joe, you'll be worse nor poor Teddy is 
 now." 
 
 " Dis nigger ain't afeard ob dem yer, noways," laughed Joe, 
 " plenty ob de article keeps off de horrors. Guess dat's what 
 frightened brudder Jonathan now, 'pears quare he's so stiddy, 
 don't it?" The drunken negro looked round upon the 
 bystanders with a grin of ridicule, but Jonathan, totally 
 heedless of his fun, almost shouldered Teddy, and marched 
 slowly out, saying as he went, " Now you all know that 1 
 don't care a straw for your bantering ; when Jonathan Meeks 
 does a thing, its done, and no half-way work about it. Come, 
 Teddy." 
 
 " Well, I suppose we might as well clar out, too," said Joe, 
 moving with a slight swagger to the door. " Dey won't let 
 us stay here now ; let us trabble on to Tim Rafferty's." 
 
 " Tain't often we get leave to stay so long as this here ; 
 said a fellow in a red flannel shirt, and blue pantaloons.
 
 364 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " Gamp gets custom enough, now-a-days, without poor devils 
 like us. Let's have three cheers for Dr. Clarence, before we 
 go, anyhow." 
 
 "Three cheers for Dr. Clarence," shouted Joe. "He'll 
 cany ebery ting, so he will ; nebber seed nuffin like 
 him." 
 
 " Three cheers for Dr. Clarence, boys. Hurra ! Hurra ! 
 Hurra T 
 
 The room rang with the repeated shouts, and before the 
 echo had fairly died away, the intoxicated group had 
 nearly deserted the place, shouting and cheering on their way 
 to a lower den of drunkenness and ruin. 
 
 In the saloon above were gathered a company of a very 
 -different character from that congregated in the lower apart- 
 ments. Judges, lawyers, physicians, merchants from two or 
 three of the neighboring towns, had dropped in to ascertain 
 the respective chances of their favorite candidates, while the 
 anxious candidate who had received the almost certain 
 majority for Senator, lingered with fevered anxiety, lacking 
 both inclination and ability to leave the charmed spot until 
 his success was decided. 
 
 Edward was sitting at one end of the room, receiving congra- 
 tulations and assurances of victory from his friends. But, to 
 those who knew him well, an expression of painful unrest told 
 of keener suffering than the most triumphant success could 
 have inspired joy. There was a fire in the eye, and a dark 
 red spot in each cheek, that seemed deeper in its intensity 
 than even the excitement of such an hour would indicate, 
 lie was suffering severely from a violent headache, and the hot 
 blood coursed wildly through his veins. Wine, as usual, was 
 circulating freely, and the young man partook recklessly of 
 the only stimulus that could render him able to meet the exi- 
 gencies of the occasion. 
 
 " Calm yourself, young gentleman," said Judge Reid with a 
 pompous bow, "there is not the slightest danger of your
 
 KATE WESTON. 365 
 
 defeat. Look upon it as decided, go home and to sleep, and 
 all will be right in the morning." 
 
 Lawyer Flip glanced at Edward, saying, " I have no more 
 doubt than you of the result of the election, but I haven't much 
 faith in putting that patient to sleep, until the crisis of his 
 disease is past." 
 
 " Really," said young Reid, " one would thuppothe that 
 thome other cauthe of ancthiety exthithted for Dr. Claranthe. 
 He wath quite thelf-pothethed latht time he wath a can- 
 didate." 
 
 The peculiar tone in which these words were uttered, caused 
 both Edward and Judge Reid to look up for his meaning. 
 There was an expression of triumph gleaming over his face 
 that puzzled the Judge, who turned away again to discuss his 
 champagne. But to Edward's mind there flashed a sudden 
 memory of his having seen Reid several separate times enter- 
 ing or emerging from Mrs. Weston's door, and that during 
 the two months of his absence from the house. He had never, 
 for a moment, lost his faith in the purity of motive that had 
 prompted Kate's conduct, but now a flash of something 
 between terror and indignation shot through his fevered 
 brain. How should Reid know of the cause of his deepest 
 anxiety ? Why should he visit there so often ? how could 
 he dare to oast that glance of triumph upon him, unless he 
 had received some token of favor ? 
 
 The flush grew deeper on his face, and the pang keener in 
 his heart. Once he would have scorned the thought of such 
 suspicion, but he had mingled much with a fickle world, and 
 he was losing hold of his fresh faith in the true hearts of his 
 childish love. Reid was wealthy, aristocratic, and generally 
 considered fascinating to an extreme. He himself had been 
 less attentive for many months, ever since that peace-destroy- 
 ing election had been talked about. 
 
 He hardly cared now, if he won or lost the prize. But 
 still, if he did not win, into what channel could he throw his
 
 366 KATE WESTON. 
 
 desperate feelings. He pressed his hand upon his brow, 
 laughed, talked, and used every effort to mingle in the gay 
 flow of spirit around him. 
 
 They stayed Edward, Judge Reid, lawyer Flip, and a few 
 more of his friends, until ten, eleven, twelve, waiting for the 
 last returns. At length the news came from N and R , two 
 of the remotest towns, that it could not be decided until the 
 following day. So they were obliged to leave, one, at least, 
 of them,, completely worn out in mind and body, but doomed 
 still to suffer from newly-awakened suspicions, and prolonged 
 suspense. 
 
 Little that passed under Gamp's observation but was remem- 
 bered by him. He alone of those present had read the pur- 
 port of those two glances passing between Reid and Clarence. 
 When they had all left him, he sat musing by the lower fire. 
 His blood was cool, his step firm as usual. 
 
 A low knock sounded at the door. As he opened it, Dr. 
 Higgins, lank and forlorn as usual, only a little more so, 
 pushed into the saloon. 
 
 " What the brought you here this time o' night ?" 
 said the gentlemanly proprietor, looking cornerwise at his 
 visitor. " You are getting dissipated, old boy. ' Tread the 
 mill steadily.' " 
 
 " Hush," said Higgins, in a whisper, closing the door, and 
 looking round with a frightened air. " More's in the wind 
 than you think for, Gamp. Are you alone ?" 
 
 As his visitor was speaking earnestly, and without his drawl, 
 Gamp was a little startled, but he locked the door slowly, and 
 led the way to a seat by the fire. " What is it then ?" he 
 asked, a little impatiently. " Out with it, Higgins." 
 
 " Are you sure you are alone ?" asked the cadaverous 
 doctor, with his eyes peering into every corner of the dimly 
 lighted room. " Why don't you keep lights burning ? this 
 fire doesn't give light enough, nor half." 
 
 " What's in you, fellow ?" answered his companion, looking
 
 KATE WESTON. 367 
 
 at his blanched face. "You're liker a ghost than ever, I 
 declare. Here, take this," and he pushed over a goblet of 
 wine. " Nobody's here, out with it, man." 
 
 Higgins dranK off the goblet without a word, then drawing 
 his chair close to Gamp, and lowering his voice, he asked 
 " Do you know what ever became of Mary Morris ?" 
 
 " I don't often lose track of anybody with whom I have had 
 such dealings as I had with her," was the answer. " 'Twouldn't 
 be safe, I imagine ; when you drive skittish horses, you must 
 keep hold of the reins, or nobody knows where you'll steer to." 
 
 " Mr. Dunn always thought she was in Australia," said his 
 visitor. 
 
 " The more fool he ! If he had looked after her a little, 
 he might have been well enough yet. I never forget old 
 friends so easily." 
 
 " But you don't know that she is Maggie Terry's mother," 
 whispered Higgins. 
 
 " Well, Higgins, you are a cove ! Couldn't you see it, the 
 minute you laid your eyes on the girl. I'm expecting every 
 day to receive a visit from that respectable lady. She was 
 always wild over her brats, and she's been 6ut here half a 
 dozen times already, but they don't know it." 
 
 The doctor started. " I've never seen her since " 
 
 "That's because you've lost your wits, man, or rather, 
 because you've never had any. You're all heart, Higgins; 
 whatever good deeds you've accomplished, your head hadn't 
 much to do with them, anyhow. But say," he added with an 
 impatient sneer, " is that what you've come to tell me ; that's 
 an old story, hardly worth repeating. It seems to have taken 
 a wonderful hold on you, though." 
 
 " But she's been writing letters to Dr. Clarence. She's told 
 the whole history of our doings with her and her husband ; 
 more, by a long shot than / thought she ever knew." 
 
 " And what o' that ? She's not like you. Her delectable 
 mode of life has sharpened her eyes. She's one o'ihe keen
 
 3C8 KATE WESTON. 
 
 'uns, is she, but if she couldn't prove anything against us when 
 she was a decent woman, you don't fancy she'd do anything 
 now the story's such an old one, and she , you're a fool, 
 man ! you don't suppose she'd be believed on oath now ; 1 
 took good care of that, years ago." 
 
 Higgtns's lank figure shivered, and he peered into the darkest 
 corner of the room. " Fact is, Gamp, I ain't over easy any 
 of these days. My constitution's so impaired, that it affects my 
 spirits wonderfully. I'd be willing to live in a hut on bread 
 and water all my life, if I could take back the wretched deeds 
 of my past history." 
 
 " You're in the wrong box when you come to me with any 
 of your cant; keep a stout heart, man"; you know the deviFfl 
 run off with you at last, don't let him get your soul for 
 nothing ; get all you can out of him first. That's my policy." 
 " But she writes other things that I know nothing of. Some 
 man that started a porter-house in Catharine street about 
 the time you left, has told some strange stories about a 
 Timothy Murphy, that she seems somehow to be certain is 
 you." 
 
 There was the slightest perceptible pallor on the listener's 
 face, and he cast a sidelong glance at his companion. Some- 
 thing in the black depths of those evil eyes must have struck 
 Higgins, for he turned away his gaze with a shudder, saying, 
 " A hard story she tells, too." 
 
 "How the did you get hold of all this precious informa- 
 tion ?" cried Gamp, with a forced laugh. I didn't know you 
 -were on such intimate terms with your old friend Clarence." 
 
 " He didn't make me his confidant, by any means, but he 
 commenced quizzing me in a roundabout way ; that led me 
 to suspect something, and I've been trying to find out what he 
 meant ever since. I knew there was no way but to get hold 
 of some of his letters, so I kept a strict lookout. One day 
 the boy that carries up the letters stopped at the office with 
 one or two for me. I sent him after a pitcher of water, and
 
 KATE WESTON. 369 
 
 slipped one letter from his bundle. He's a careless chap, and 
 nobody'd think but he'd lost it." 
 
 " You've some sense left, at any rate," laughed Gamp. 
 " And what was in the letter ?" 
 
 " Allusions to the affair in which we were so mixed up, and 
 this new story about Timothy Murphy, and a young Benson 
 who had died at sea. She seemed to think that Billy was his 
 child, but wasn't certain of it. Then there was something 
 about a mutiny and a murder, and Murphy's escape in some 
 mysterious manner from the hold of the ship where he had 
 been confined, while the vessel lay at some port in Europe. 
 She said that she had so managed that no one knew, thus far, 
 of Murphy's identity or existence^ save herself, but when Dr. 
 Clarence should visit Shroeck as he had promised, it would be 
 necessary to reveal all that was known. Of course I knew 
 nothing about that affair. The letter was signed ' Maggie's 
 Mother,' but I understood the allusions to her earlier years 
 too well to be deceived." 
 
 Either the flickering fire or some sudden sickness spread for 
 a moment a deathly paleness on the face of the attentive 
 listener, but he stooped "over, as if to stir the fire, saying with 
 a forced sneer, " And so that is the bugaboo that scared you, 
 ha ? What on earth is all that to me or you either ?" 
 
 "She seemed," saidHiggins, hesitating, "so certain of your 
 identity with Murphy, that I thought when that affair was 
 searched into, perhaps " 
 
 "Perhaps some other affair might be brought up along 
 with it, and your name might be mentioned in connection 
 with somewhat equivocal company. I feel myself," he added, 
 raising himself with a mock bow, " under eternal obligations 
 for your disinterested friendship. There wasn't such vast 
 occasion for alarm, however. Women's. whims are not worth 
 minding." 
 
 " But she spoke particularly of Billy, and of a package of 
 papers which she had got from the porter-house keeper in 
 16*
 
 370 KATE WE6TON. 
 
 Catharine street, and sent about a month ago to Dr. Clarence. 
 She mentioned your eyes too, and that scar on your left cheek, 
 as marks spoken of by Shroeck, and I thought" 
 
 " You thought the evidence was conclusive, ha ?" Gamp 
 rose suddenly from his chair, his face livid with suppressed 
 rage, and coming close to Higgins, he doubled his fist close 
 to his listener's face, " Harkee, sirrah, do you know where I got 
 that scar ? The captain of a ship struck me with a marlin 
 spike, and I throttled him with this hand till he was dead. I 
 was put in iron's, but I escaped. The devil couldn't keep me 
 if I was bound to get away, and no mortal man shall thwart 
 me, and live. Now, sir, you know your man ; ever lisp one 
 
 word of what you have said to me, and by I'll throttle you 
 
 like a dog. I'll follow you night and day, and drink your 
 life's blood out, as I have done others before you. And if I 
 come to the gallows at last, I'll promise that you shall keep 
 me company." He wound up with a hoarse oath, and a flour- 
 ish of his clenched fist, while his companion, trembling with 
 terror, edged away his chair, and kept his eyes fixed glassily 
 upon the fiendish face and squinting eyes that shot fire from 
 their depths. 
 
 As Gamp turned round, his eye fell upon a figure but dimly 
 seen in the fading firelight, standing in the doorway at the 
 foot of the stair-case leading to the upper saloon. " What 
 ith the difficulty here ?" cried young Reid, walking up to the 
 fire ; " I wath athleep up there, and I heard thuch a deuthed 
 noithe, that I woke up in a hurry. What'th the quarrel, 
 Doctor ?" He walked straight up in front of the paralyzed 
 Higgins, while Gamp doubled his fist behind him, and brought 
 it suddenly to within one inch of the head of the unwelcome 
 visitor, then, as though by a mighty effort, he . let it drop 
 again, forced away the fierce glance of revenge that had 
 fallen unheeded upon the innocent young puppy, and walked 
 away to the upper saloon. 
 
 The eyes of the poor doctor followed him until ho was out
 
 KATE WESTON. 371 
 
 of sight, then for the first time were allowed to fall upon his 
 interrogator. " Matter ?" he muttered, " oh, nothing of any 
 consequence, it's all right, I'm agreeable to anything, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 " What on earth wath he making thuch a hurrah for, then ? 
 I thought you were going to fight, 'pon honor ; you look thick, 
 doctor, alarming, really. Better take thomething." 
 
 Gamp was absent but a moment, and when he returned, 
 his face wore its usual bland expression. " How came you 
 to escape my observation, sir ?" he asked with a searching 
 glance from under his black eyebrows at the young man's 
 face. 
 
 " Fact ith, I was deuthed tired, waiting tho late for the 
 returnth, and concluded to take a nap, while guv'nor and 
 hon'ble talked politicth. Bleth me," he added, rubbing his 
 eyes, " but I never thtirred till I heard you quarrelling here. 
 Gueth you're like me, took a drop more than you needed. 
 How did election go, ha ?" 
 
 " We haven't found out yet, sir," answered Gamp. " News 
 
 from N and R there was no telling till to-morrow. 
 
 Oh, Clarence'll get it fast enough, no fear o' that; but he 
 looks bad, worn out." 
 
 Reid smiled knowingly. " He hath troubleth of hith own, 
 I imagine ; but thuctheth, I hope, will drive them away." 
 
 " I have heard," said Gamp, blandly, still keeping his gaze 
 upon the young man's face, " that Mr. Reid was robbing him 
 of some other honors." 
 
 Reid answered with a gratified expression, and a toss of 
 the head. " Have you ? indeed ! I didn't know that any 
 thuch agreeable reportth were about. Thenatorth are not 
 alwayth the motht irrethithtible." He stroked down his 
 fashionable mustache, and Gamp would have liked at that 
 moment to pull it out by the roots ; but he answered in his 
 most insinuating tone, 
 
 " Some men have complete control over the ladies ; Dr.
 
 372 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Clarence would hardly hope to conquer alongside of you, sir. 
 Your name is spread far and wide, sir, as a lady-killer." 
 
 " You flatter me," answered Reid, with a smirk ; then, as 
 though recollecting that he was compromising his dignity, 
 he assumed his own ludicrous hauteur, and rose stiffly to 
 leave. 
 
 " The doctor," continued Gamp, " is considerably indebted 
 to you, for I believe I should have given him a thrashing, if 
 you had not come in the moment you did. He brought me 
 in such an enormous bill you know he's a sharper, sir." 
 
 " I am very glad," said the young man, haughtily, " if I 
 wath the inthrument of tho much good. I fanthied I heard 
 thomething about the gallowth, and wath quite alarmed. 
 Good evening, doctor. Good evening, thir." 
 
 Half an hour after, Higgins was on his way home, and 
 Gamp sat with clenched hands looking into the fire. " What 
 a fool !" he muttered between his teeth, " to let that conceited 
 jackanapes have a chance to riear such precious secrets. 
 Thanks to his idiocy, though, I don't believe he knows any- 
 thing that was said. Yet if he were but to mention the 
 incident, and Clarence were to get hold of it, it would sound 
 queer, best way I can fix it. Something must be done, that's 
 clear." 
 
 He sat for an hour without speaking. There was no motion 
 of the face, yet there was a something changing ever in those 
 terrible black eyes, and on that fierce brow. Hatred 
 doubt triumph scorn, but never fear gleamed by turns 
 from the daring soul within. At last he broke the stillness. 
 " That's it ; when did my wits ever forsake me ; I've come 
 nearer the gallows than this, more than once before ; guess 
 I'll have to try a bold game this time too. Settle Reid and 
 Clarence, then there's the hag, something'll have to be done 
 with her and Shroeck and that Bill if he crosses my 
 way," he grated his teeth together, and ground his heel 
 hard upon the hearth. After a few minutes' pause, he added
 
 KATE WESTON. 373 
 
 with a low laugh, " Ha ! fools, not knaves, are the ones that 
 swing. I'll manage it." 
 
 Five minutes later, the great room was left alone. The 
 clock ticking on the mantel, the casks ranged along the 
 wall, the decanters glistening in the starlight that glim- 
 mered in at the little top-window the great fireplace whence 
 the ^vind whistled up through the chimney. Strange sounds 
 mingled with the ticking of the clock and the sighing of 
 the winds. Strange gleams, not made by the starlight, 
 flashed along the laden shelves. The dark, still solitude was- 
 peopled. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE next morning Kate Weston was up with the dawn. 
 Her cheek was pale, and her eye sunken, as though she had 
 not slept All the morning she wandered restlessly to and 
 fro, as though incapable of going quietly as she was wont, 
 about her domestic duties. Now to the front window, now 
 down to where Rosy and Rebecca Jones were working in the 
 dairy, then back to her room to take up her sewing and leave 
 it in five minutes to listen to some fancied murmur in the 
 street. Her mother watched her restless step, and listened 
 almost as anxiously as she to every passing voice. 
 
 "Dar now, sweet soul," muttered Rosy over her churn, 
 "but it make dis heart ache, anyhow, to see her trabbling 
 about so oneasy all de time. God bless her ! she looks jes' 
 like an angel wid de consumption; 'pears she's growin' to 
 noting at all dese yer times. She's mighty 'stressed 'bout 
 dat 'lection ; lawsakes, oilers thought Missie Katie didn't like 
 Massa Ned to be 'lected, anyway ; an' here she's jest a gwine
 
 374 KATE WESTON. 
 
 an' gwine up an' down de house, as dough her life was 
 impending on it; nebber seed nuffin like it! Wish Joe'd 
 come an' tell us, jes for her sake. 'Taint right fur me to ask 
 what fur de Lord Almighty let de debil loose to vex poor old 
 sinful Rosy, but can't see now what eber was de reason he 
 wouldn't keep him out de way ob Mass' Edward an' Miss 
 Katie." 
 
 The great yellow turfcan quivered a little, and two or three 
 tears were stealing over the honest black face, as she turned 
 to open the door for Joe. As he entered, a little soberer than 
 usual, a light footstep was on the kitchen stair, and Kate, 
 holding fast to the latch of the door looked speechlessly 
 towards him. 
 
 " Dr. Clarence beat dem all hollow ; dis nagger nebber seed 
 nuffin" 
 
 " Lawsakes, my darling !" cried Rosy, starting forward and 
 putting her brawny arms about the slender waist, " do sit 
 down here; you are pale as death. Joe, bring me some 
 water." 
 
 " Never mind, Rosy, I'm better, now," said Kate, rallying. 
 " Give me a glass of water ; a little faint, that's all, I'm not 
 well to day ; there, I'll go up to mother, you need not come, 
 Rosy, I'm well enough now." 
 
 Rosy watched her all the way up-stairs, and turned back 
 to her churn, without deigning to cast a glance at Joe. 
 
 "Well to-day, sweetheart, nor won't be well neider, nor 
 Rosy neider, till dem renimical rumsellers gets away." The 
 churn rattled away all the time, and the big tears streamed 
 down over the face. "Dey's talkin' about stopping dem 
 selling sich tings ; wish dey could, anyways ; sign de 
 pledge ; great 'fair dat ! Joe's done it tree times, but de fus 
 ting I know'd, dere he was cuttin' up hicumflorious agin and 
 trabblin' like a whirlwind right ahead to de bery place " she 
 dropped her dash, and whirled suddenly round in front of 
 him.
 
 KATE WE8TOX. 375 
 
 " Joe, ain't dar no way on all de earth fur you to do nuffin 
 to save yerself? 'Pears like ye might do suthin' if ye'd on'y 
 try. I'd tote way off down South, and tear up all dern free 
 papers ob ours ; I'd go to prison right off dis minute, ef I 
 was only sure ye'd never touch anoder drop ob de sperrits as 
 long as you live. De good Lord knows," she cried, with 
 streaming eyes and brawny arms outstretched, " I'd lie right 
 down in de grave, ef dat would save you from de drefful way 
 you're a gwine." 
 
 When Kate went up to the little sitting-room, she 
 knelt right down at her mother's feet, and buried her face 
 in the folds of her dress. Mrs. Weston did not speak ; she 
 knew exactly to what tension the chords of that young heart 
 were drawn, she felt the quiver of the frail figure, she knew 
 why the sobs rolled out from the heaving bosom, as truly as 
 though her ears had heard the tidings. She knew, although 
 the thought was unspoken, even scarcely acknowledged by 
 her child, that up till that moment, the hope had sustained 
 her drooping spirit, that failure in this scheme might restore 
 the wanderer to the peaceful walks of his early life, and open 
 his eyes to the vanity of earth's renown. 
 
 Now the last link that bound her life to his was snapped 
 asunder. She felt it, kneeling there with the hand laid upon 
 her head, whose touch had soothed away her griefs from 
 infancy. She felt it, the quiet mother, whose soul went forth 
 to that less disciplined in trial than her own. Not for one 
 instant was she cast adrift from the anchor, sure and steadfast, 
 to which years of joy and sorrow had fixed her bark of life. 
 Mingling with the anguish floated into her spirit's ear, "When 
 thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee," and she 
 knew that each earthly blind falling from her daughter's 
 vision would but reveal to her clearer gaze the glories of the 
 only changeless One, " The chiefest among ten thousand, and 
 the altogether lovely." 
 
 But the younger heart had not learned its lesson of sub-
 
 376 KATE WESTON. 
 
 mission. In the petty ills of life, when no great cross had 
 been laid upon her, she had been tried, and by prayer and 
 watchfulness, had proved the conqueror. But now, for a 
 season, there was darkness, thick darkness, through which 
 the heavenly sunlight could not pierce. She was only twenty- 
 two, but for six years she had been shrining in her heart an 
 earthly love, twining how many of the sweet fancies that 
 only youth and love can twine glorying long in the con- 
 sciousness of his soaring talents slowly, mistily, catching 
 glimpses of the peril that lay in his pathway, realizing at 
 length the terrible sacrifice that the relentless voice within 
 demanded at her hands the lingering hope, and now the 
 dread despair ! 
 
 At about six o'clock, in the afternoon of the day following 
 the election, young Reid stepped into Gamp's saloon. " Thend 
 me a dothen bottleth of that new champagne, will you, Gamp," 
 he said, throwing himself into a chair, " and hand me a glath 
 now ; I'm tired," he added to himself, " and thith'll keep me 
 four full hourth, I am pothitive. Buthineth ith a bore. How- 
 ever, I'm hoping to gain thomething by thith." 
 
 Gamp handed him the wine, and retreating to his desk, 
 apparently engaged in writing, took special note of his custo- 
 mer's appearance. Reid was dressed with most exquisite 
 taste, and his hair, usually kept combed with maidenly sleek- 
 ness, bore marks of more than usual care. A package of 
 papers peered pompously from the side-pocket of his great- 
 coat, with some writing visible, but from the desk it could not 
 be distinguished. When he had gone, Gamp called to his 
 clerk, bustled about for a few minutes, and left the saloon. 
 Reid was out of sight, and the shadows were falling, but the 
 rumseller followed the direction he had taken. As soon as 
 he had cleared the village street, he leaped the hedge at the 
 road-side, and commenced running. In a few minntes he 
 caught sight of Reid's figure, and, slackening his pace, kept 
 within sight without making himself visible. On, on the
 
 KATE WESTON. 377 
 
 young man wont until his pursuer saw him enter Mrs. Wes- 
 tern's dwelling. Then retracing his steps, he walked slowly 
 back, concealed entirely, as well by the thick hedge, as by the 
 gathering darkness. 
 
 "No time to be lost," he muttered; "to be sure, 'tisn't 
 likely he'll think of much beside his own affairs for a few 
 days, at any rate. I'll set the train going anyhow, and trust 
 to the devil to finish the business for me. > Higgins said he 
 had all the papers of Shroeck. Blast it, if I could get hold 
 o' them ; even Clarence couldn't prove anything without 
 them. I must get Mm settled anyhow, if he's going to ferret 
 out what dpesn't belong to him. He's a smart chap, but not 
 hard to bait by no means. Something like Higgins, more 
 heart than head only brighter, and his heart's on t'other 
 side too ; pooh, I'm worth a dozen such !" 
 
 He reached a certain corner in the hedge, and as though 
 struck by a sudden fancy, snapped a jeweled finger and 
 thumb together, and with a low chuckle bounded into the 
 road, muttering still, " Spill your life's blood, ha ? Han't 
 looked quite close enough after that model boy of yours. Old 
 Benson, too where's Bill ? I'll have to look out for him, wish 
 I'd killed him out and out, long ago !" This whole colloquy 
 had been uttered in a tone so low that it was scarcely audible 
 to the speaker ; but as he concluded, he turned cautiously 
 round, and looked about him. Apparently satisfied with his 
 scrutiny, he passed on to the office of Dr. Higgins, where he 
 found that gentleman just preparing to leave. 
 
 " Come doctor," he said, " defer your tea for a few minutes, 
 and make a call with me ; I want to step in to. Dr. Clarence." 
 
 " To-night ?" said Higgins, " after " 
 
 "After what?" interrupted his visitor. "I want to stop 
 about the official returns ; and I want you, sir, to assist me in 
 bringing in something about Reid and Kate Weston. He'd 
 hardly take it from me, but Dr. Higgins is entitled to atten- 
 tion."
 
 378 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Higgins looked for a minute into his companion's face. 
 " You don't mean it " 
 
 " I mean what I say," interrupted Gamp impatiently, " and 
 there's no time to lose. If you can't make out my meaning, 
 ponder over it at your leisure. You and I generally under- 
 stand one another." 
 
 The submissive doctor caught one glance of those serpent- 
 eyes that could charm anything once within their power, and 
 followed him out of the office. " I hope," he added, in his 
 usual doleful tone, as they walked away, " you'll be careful for 
 your own sake, Gamp, as well as mine; I'm not afraid of your 
 prudence, by any means, but I'm nervous lately," and he 
 looked earnestly behind him. 
 
 " I thought you picked up again always about this time o' 
 year, when the shakes left you, Higgins ; why you're shaking 
 now ; don't be a fool, fellow." 
 
 "I feel chilly to-night," was the reply. "If I hadn't picked 
 up in winter, I shouldn't have been alive now ; I've attended 
 rigidly to business, notwithstanding; can't stand it though 
 another summer ; shall have to try change of climate if I como 
 down next year." 
 
 A low, scornful laugh was the only sympathy vouchsafed to 
 the afflicted doctor, and they walked on in silence. 
 
 "Now, then," whispered Gamp, as they neared the office o* 
 Dr. Clarence, " you have had time enough to make out my 
 meaning ; gather up your wits and give some sharp hints ; 
 but look out what you say, walls have ears, and you know 
 you're no match for me if anything comes out." 
 
 The door was unlocked, so they walked directly in. 
 
 "No one here," said Higgins, turning with a somewhat 
 relieved air to his companion. 
 
 " Just wait a few minutes ; he's close by, or his door'd be 
 fast," said Gamp, stepping past half a dozen chairs to get one 
 from the left corner at the back of the room. Casting 3 
 sidewise glance to the right where a fire-screen interposed
 
 KATE WESTON. 379 
 
 between the fire and the room, he caught a glimpse of the 
 young man leaning back in his chair, with his head hanging 
 down as though buried in a heavy slumber. A sardonic 
 smile of satisfaction gleamed on the rumseller's face, as he 
 cautiously set down his chair opposite Higgins, and with an 
 expressive gesture of his forefinger, indicated to that melan- 
 choly gentleman the discovery he had made. 
 
 "These are the returns, as near as I have been able to 
 make them out," he said, in a low, unemphatic voice, " but there 
 are some hard cases that I can't make out in this county 
 clerk affair; we'll let the doctor have a look, I reckon. 
 What a vast majority he got for senator, Higgins ?" 
 
 "Yes, a vast majority ; he's one of the fortunate class 
 of human beings, although not very persevering in business. 
 Tread the mill steadily, sir, is my motto, and he veered about 
 considerable while he was with me ; but for us less favored 
 portions of our race, there is but one motto to ensure success. 
 Tread steadily steadily." The poor, bony, seedy, "portion 
 of our race " looked as though he had trodden, trodden with- 
 out stopping, from the first moment of his existence. 
 
 Gamp laughed, and answered in the same subdued tone he 
 had formerly used. " You forget that some are poor, unlucky 
 dogs at everything they lay their hands to, and others 
 become masters of everything within their reach. However, 
 according to Reid's story, the tables in one quarter, at any 
 rate, have turned against the doctor." No change in the 
 stolid countenance of the speaker, but a slight increase of the 
 moody shadow on his companion's forehead. 
 
 " Why," said Higgins, confidentially, with a tremor in his 
 drawl, " the election hasn't been disputed ?" 
 
 At this moment, a large bottle with which Gamp had been 
 toying, fell with a crash upon the floor; there was a little 
 start behind the screen, but it might not have been heard 
 by the visitors, for Gamp suddenly let down the three legs 
 of his chair which had been swaying in the air, saying,
 
 380 KATE WESTON. 
 
 " I mean that affair about Miss Weston. When is Reid to 
 marry her, eh ?" 
 
 Edward, startled from the sleep into which he had fallen 
 through sheer exhaustion, was arrested in starting forward by 
 the words he caught. His head was aching severely, and 
 the intense excitement of the past few days had unstrung his 
 nerves. He paused a moment, not because he intended to 
 listen, but because he was powerless to move. 
 
 "I don't know," said Higgins, with an uneasy glance 
 towards the screen. " Are they to be married ?" 
 
 Gamp cast a threatening glance at his companion. He 
 was not coming up to the mark he had intended. Higgins 
 cowered a little, and paled a little. Gamp continued, 
 
 "Are they? you know it as well as I; perhaps not, though, 
 for I heard it, or what was just as good, from his own lips, 
 the other night." 
 
 Edward was rooted to the spot. His brain whirled. The 
 throbbing of his heart was almost audible. 
 
 " True," was Higgins answer, " I have heard reports of the 
 kind ; but not being much acquainted with either Reid or 
 Miss Weston, I had acquired no certain knowledge of the 
 fact." 
 
 " I think," said Gamp, with a sneer, " the lady missed it 
 mightily in changing the doctor for that little dandy. He 
 hasn't much to recommend him besides his money and mous- 
 tache." 
 
 " But money accomplishes everything," answered his com- 
 panion, with a sigh. " I needn't have been doomed to a life 
 of single blessedness, if I had only been blest with money." 
 
 " Ha ha !" laughed 'the rumseller, " you would have made 
 a comical bridegroom. Better start now, just let out what 
 scanty savings you have scraped together, and you might cut 
 out Reid and the doctor both with Miss Weston. Eh, Hig- 
 gins?" 
 
 Edward was on the point of rushing out to avenge the
 
 KATE WESTON. 381 
 
 profanation of a name so sacred, but he suddenly recollected 
 that he had no further right to guard its purity. 
 
 " I should have thought," said Higgins, " that Miss Weston 
 would have been the last lady to be influenced by such con- 
 siderations. I am sure Reid must have used some deception 
 with regard to his actual character." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh! who doesn't use deception in such cases?" 
 I don't believe Clarence used to inform her every time he 
 went home half seas over, or every game of billiards he played 
 either." 
 
 Edward winced in his chair, but listened on. 
 
 " The best of it is," continued Gamp, " Reid's an out-and- 
 out fool, gambler, libertine, everything mean by nature ; 
 takes naturally to such things, as a fish does to the water ; 
 but the doctor plays or tipples occasionally more for the sake 
 of the good it brings him, and the jolly company he meets, 
 and here she's jilted him for Reid ! But come," he added, 
 rising hastily, as a quick motion behind the screen suggested 
 that they might find some difficulty in pacifying their involun- 
 tary listener, " we can't wait any longer. I'll show him these 
 hieroglyphics when he's down to-night." 
 
 Before the sentence was finished, they were out at the door, 
 and Edward half-way across the office after them. A second 
 thought, however, arrested him, for he paused an instant, 
 returned, and threw himself, with an air of utter abandonment, 
 back into his seat by the fire. 
 
 He did not believe that Kate was to be the wife of Reid. 
 But the bare possibility crazed him. For her to tear away 
 his life from hers, had broken the tenderest strings of his 
 heart. But he felt that hers was no common motive, nor her 
 standard of action a common standard. That she should so 
 soon forget their years of mutual hope to cherish another love, 
 was harder still to bear. But that Reid should be the object 
 of that love, was a maddening thought. It burned like a hot 
 iron into his fevered brain. It brewed into a storm of hatred
 
 382 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the ineffable scorn which the lisping lawyer had always in- 
 spired. And she did not know the viper she was cherish- 
 ing. 
 
 He sprang forward, seized his hat, and rushed into the 
 street. A few minutes later, his sister Mary was startled from 
 the lullaby she was singing at her cradle. 
 
 " Mary, is Reid on intimate terms with Kate !" The hectic 
 face and uneven voice alarmed her. 
 
 "No, Edward! at least I don't believe it. What has 
 happened ? You are ill, brother." 
 
 He laughed strangely so strangely. She was on her feet 
 in an instant. " Edward " 
 
 "111!" he groaned. "Yes, dying burning up!" Then 
 suddenly remembering himself, when he saw her look of 
 terror, he added, more calmly, " No, Mary ; I'm well enough, 
 except in mind. Tell me, do you know anything of Reid 
 and and Kate ?" 
 
 "I have heard," said his sister, hesitatingly, that he has 
 been visiting there more than his law business with regard to 
 Mr. Weston's property required, and that he had said " 
 
 "What had he said?" asked Edward, eagerly, but with 
 forced calmness, as she paused doubtfully. 
 
 " Why, that he had boasted of her preference for him ; but 
 I do not believe it not a single word of it," she added indig- 
 nantly; "the conceited puppy! I could see him thrashed 
 with a good relish ; talking as he does about Kate !" 
 
 " How does he talk about Kate ?" 
 
 His sister saw the gathering ire in his countenance, and 
 hesitated again. " / don't know exactly, to be sure," she said, 
 in a quieter tone, " William heard him make some foolish 
 speeches when he was half-tipsy, I suppose. My opinion is, 
 that he is persecuting her with unwelcome attentions, and 
 that his insufferable vanity blinds him to the repugnance I'm 
 sure she must entertain towards him." 
 
 " Where is William ?" asked Edward.
 
 KATE WESTON. 383 
 
 " Up stairs, in his library. There he is coming down ; 
 hark." 
 
 "William," said his brother-in-law, as Steele entered, 
 " what have you heard Reid say about Kate Weston ?" 
 
 " Some things that no gentleman would say of a lady for 
 whom he professed to entertain regard," was the answer. 
 
 " And by what right does he dare do this ?" cried Edward. 
 
 " By the right, he says," answered Steele, without looking 
 at him, " of victory over Dr. Clarence." 
 
 "The villain!" exclaimed Edward, "if" 
 
 "It is your own fault, Edward," answered Steele again, 
 gravely. 
 
 "Yes, Ned, I declare it's a shame" cried Mary, who had 
 dropped again into her seat by the cradle, "that good for 
 nothing braggadocio linking Kate's name with his, in that 
 clique of route, and boasting of his conquest, as though he 
 had just broken a colt, or was chuckling over some common 
 ballet-dancer. And she, poor darling, has no father now ; so 
 I suppose she will have to die of vexation, as I'm certain she 
 must, if she keeps on growing so pale and thin much longer. 
 And you are running about here, winning honors, and making 
 all our hearts ache with your neglect and the habits you are 
 forming. Father's almost as bad as Kate. I declare, his face 
 isn't rosy at all now ; his cheeks are growing hollow all the 
 time, and though he doesn't say much, I'm sure he would a 
 great deal rather have had you stay just as you were five 
 years ago, than to see you what you are. It's too bad ; it's a 
 shame, Ned ; and I don't see where it's going to end !" 
 
 By this time the little lady's foot was swinging the cradle 
 at such a prodigious rate, and her voice had gathered so 
 much energy, that baby started from its slumber, and totally 
 refused to be pacified. Edward's figure, therefore, escaped her 
 notice, standing stiff against the wall, with his hands clench- 
 ing the back of a chair, and every feature of his face working 
 with excitement.
 
 384 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Ho stood so for a few moments, then, turning to the door, 
 said hoarsely, " That is all, then, you have to tell me." 
 
 The tone attracted their attention. " Where are you 
 going ?" asked Steele. Mary left her baby, and flew towards 
 him : " Edward, forgive me ! How could I be so thoughtless, 
 and you ill, too ?" 
 
 " You only said what I thought myself, Mary. I know it. 
 It's driving me mad. But say, is that all you know ?" He 
 had his hand on the latch of the door. 
 
 " That is all, brother. Stay ; where are you going ?" she 
 asked anxiously. 
 
 " To see about the election ; I promised to go up to-night. 
 Oh, that I had left pleasure honor for ever untouched !" 
 
 There was a bitter emphasis on the words " pleasure 
 honor," and the voice choked as he opened the door. Mary 
 clasped both hands around his arm, and cast an appealing 
 look at her husband. 
 
 Steele started forward. " Edward," he said, brokenly, " my 
 early friend brother, come back ; you are not fit to be out, 
 you are ill ; let me go for you." 
 
 Edward .paused, for Mary's grasp detained him. "Impos- 
 sible, William, I have promised to be there, and I may hear 
 more about this wretched affair." 
 
 Steele's eyes filled with tears, and a flush crossed his face 
 that gave him something of the old boyish look of the days 
 of the tall shirt-collar. " Edward, brother, it is not too late ; 
 break up your old associations ; leave pleasure-seekers and 
 honor-seekers; stand out before the world a freeman; call 
 back the smiles and sunshine to Kate ; take the stoop out of 
 your father's shoulders, and make us all happy again, as we 
 once were, in you. You are fairly in the whirlpool "now, but 
 not so far but a vigorous counter-stroke will save you. Come, 
 begin to-night." 
 
 The yearning in his tone, and the tears, mellowed the wild 
 look on Edward's face, but he shook his head sadly. " Not
 
 KATE WESTON. 385 
 
 now, William, not now ; there is no honorable escape 
 now." Gently, but firmly untwining Mary's hands, he flew 
 down the hall and steps without turning at her tone of 
 entreaty, " Brother, come back." 
 
 Mary returned to the cradle, where baby, seemingly con- 
 scious of some trouble, now lay quietly watching their move- 
 ments. William walked up to her, and put his arm softly 
 over her shoulders. She looked up ; both burst into tears ; 
 the manly eyes glistening silently, and the quick sobs bursting 
 out unchecked from the impulsive woman's heart. Baby see- 
 ing its mother cry, drew down the corners of its little mouth, 
 and cast its share of unconscious sympathy into the common 
 fount of sorrow. 
 
 Bitter as were those tears ; keen as were the self-reproaches 
 of a too indulgent father, that night envied by the many, 
 pitied by the few ; painful as was the struggle of a young 
 spirit laboring hard to bring her all meekly to the Savior's 
 feet ; wild as raged the tempest that was drifting away every 
 fragment of hope to which, on life's rough ocean, he so 
 envied of the world, might cling : angrier would have waxed 
 the tempest fiercer would have grown the struggle keener 
 would have been the self-reproach bitterer far the tears 
 could they have read the record entered by the sorrowing 
 angel, at midnight, when the doings of that day were sealed 
 for Heaven's eternal judgment. 
 
 It was after eight, when Edward reached the saloon. The 
 instant he appeared there was a shout of welcome, and Law- 
 yer Flip, being a tall, muscular man, with a great want of 
 professional dignity, seized, and tossed him triumphantly in 
 the air, catching him dexterously on his descent. The feat 
 was followed by shouts and cheers ; the overjoyed constituents 
 crowded about their successful candidate, loading him with 
 congratulations. He was compelled to answer them ; he was, 
 in a measure, considering his former habits, and the character
 
 386 KATE WESTON. 
 
 of the company, compelled to drink wine with them, until 
 his fevered brain reeled again under its subtle power. 
 
 They could not see beneath that more than usually bril- 
 liant exterior, the worm that was gnaw;ng at his heart They 
 attributed to overflow of joy the strange lustre of his eye, and 
 the ring of his musical voice. Old men that night wondered 
 at his eloquence ; young men at his glorious beauty ; not one 
 but was proud to have been partially instrumental in sending 
 to their State Senate one who would so nobly represent their 
 interests. 
 
 He knew that but a step was between his burdened soul 
 and madness. He knew that his whole frame was quivering 
 beneath the influence of violent and protracted excitement ; 
 that his nerves had been unstrung by too free and constant 
 use of wine ; that his spirit was staggering beneath sorrow, 
 remorse, and indignation, that no honor or success could 
 obliterate. He knew all this when he entered the saloon; 
 but as the wine rendered fiercer the fire in his bosom, he 
 became oblivious to the fact, and, at length, wholly overcome 
 by its power, and his own mental suffering, abandoned him- 
 self totally to its influence. 
 
 They had a glorious time that night. Stern men unbent 
 from their dignity, and mingled in the general hilarity. 
 Toasts were given ; wit, anecdote, repartee, keen and spark- 
 ling, flew around the charmed circle. Brilliant lights, exqui- 
 site wines, exulting hearts, threw about the meeting of con- 
 vivial spirits every attraction that forms a link in the chain by 
 which such society is girdled. 
 
 Towards the close of the evening, Mr. Gamp took advan- 
 tage of an unoccupied moment to speak to Dr. Clarence. 
 
 " There were a few returns for county clerk which they had 
 some difficulty in making out ; would Dr. Clarence lend them 
 his assistance for a few moments ?" He " knew it was rather 
 informal, but they really needed it."
 
 KATE WESTON. 387 
 
 Edward descended to the lower saloon. Gamp had omit- 
 ted throwing it open that evening, out of respect to the com- 
 pany above stairs. ~ Keid and Myers, however, with, two or 
 three of their cronies, were cosily seated at a remote corner, 
 comfortably partaking of an oyster supper. 
 
 " You see, doctor," said Myers, " we only arrived a few 
 minutes since, and concluded to stay here for our refreshment ; 
 out of no disrespect to the honorable, though," with a bow 
 and smile. 
 
 "The gentlemen above are tho dignified," said Reid, 
 jocosely, "that we frolicthome young bloodths feel hardly 
 worthy of enjoying their thothiety." 
 
 The young men laughed at the exquisite witticism, and 
 Edward bent upon the speaker a glance of the intensest scorn. 
 
 As Gamp led the way to his desk, he stopped, as though 
 accidentally, beside the counter. " By the way, doctor," he 
 said, turning towards him, " I heard you speaking, the other 
 day, of purchasing a revolver. I happened to have half a 
 dozen that I bought at auction some time since ; so I brought 
 them down. I thought, perhaps, some one else would pur- 
 chase." 
 
 " You bought them at auction, eh ? Are they good for 
 anything ?" said Edward, taking one from the owner's hand 
 and examining it. 
 
 " Have a care, sir," said Gamp, as Edward's nervous finger 
 touched the trigger ; " it is loaded. I have tried them ; they 
 are in excellent order, and I will sell them for half the retail 
 price." 
 
 " Are they all loaded !" 
 
 " Yes sir, all. I thought perhaps you would like to try 
 them." 
 
 " Not to night, I should think," said the young man, laying 
 it down. " I'll see them again." 
 
 " Take it along, doctor, and try it to-morrow. I'll warrant 
 it's quality. Its no trouble to try it ; if you do not like it,
 
 388 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 return it. I believe you have side-pockets, sir." The very 
 blandest smile, and softest tone accompanied the bow with 
 which he again presented it, and immediately hurried on to 
 the desk, saying, " Excuse the detention, we will immediately 
 proceed to business, if you please, sir." 
 
 Edward put the revolver in his pocket, and followed him. 
 A heap of poorly written and misspelled names were pro- 
 duced by Gamp, which, had there been no presumption as to 
 the probability of their having been intended for one of the 
 three candidates for the clerkship would have defied all scrut- 
 iny. It was a mere mockery, Edward's helping decipher the 
 names. The words swam before his eyes ; he was scarcely 
 conscious of what Gamp was saying, as he quietly assented 
 to his remarks." 
 
 " Yes, sir, that is Fuller. E. R. Foo-1-e-r, meant for Fuller, 
 at any rate," said Gamp. 
 
 " No doubt it is Fuller," said Edward mechanically. He 
 was glancing at the party in the corner. 
 
 " And this," said the other, " this is so dreadfully written 
 that there is no making it out ; first letter's a W, so it must 
 be Wood. Shall I put it Wood ?" 
 
 " I suppose so," was the answer. Edward moved a little 
 uneasily ; he thought he heard something Myers was saying. 
 
 "Yes, yes, here's to Kate Weston, and Keid's success," 
 said one of the young men in a subdued tone, looking over 
 at the desk. 
 
 " Oh, they cannot hear," said another, " where they are, and 
 they are too busy to notice, if they did." He did not know 
 Avhat power sharpened every sense of the eager listener. 
 
 "And here's to the disappointed honorable," said Myers, 
 who had always felt a little jealous of Edward's superior 
 talents. There was a half-laugh among the dandies. 
 
 " Oh, gentlemen, I really do not feel tho much elated ; 
 I do not know that I shall marry Mith Wethton, after all ; 
 thucceth with ladieth ith quite an old thtory ; I am motht
 
 KATE WESTON. 389 
 
 tired of it. It would Be quite a novelty to fail when I ontlie 
 commenthe an undertaking." The important flourish of 
 dignity accompanying his words was irresistibly suggestive of 
 the puppy's crown, even to his exquisite friend Myers, who 
 laughed as he answered. 
 
 " Never mind, Reid, we'll make all allowances if pretty 
 Kate should jilt you after all ; you know she has jilted our 
 young senator yonder, and after that, you might consider 
 such an occurrence an honor to yourself. Edward Clarence, 
 you know, was always our village model, par excellence." 
 
 " I have no fear of that," answered Reid, adding to his 
 ridiculous hauteur by erecting his head, and inserting his 
 thumbs in the armholes of his vest. " If any jilting ith done, 
 it will not be on her thide." 
 
 Myers laughed again. " I understand you, Reid, perfectly. 
 Do you remember Miranda, Hamlin's pretty danseuse ?" 
 
 "You are very tharcathtic to-night," said Reid, with an 
 offended air. " I never cared a thtraw for her. What do 
 you mean, Myerth ?" 
 
 " I was thinking," said his friend, " that you had the 
 benefit of novelty there, and you might find it here ; that is 
 all." 
 
 " Thir, I will lithten to no thuch inthinuationth. You are 
 very " 
 
 " Pooh, joking is joking, and nothing more," said Myers, 
 tipping back his chair. " Everybody knows you are utterly 
 irresistible to all feminine hearts. If I were Miss Weston, 
 I should fall in love with you myself; 'pon honor now, Reid." 
 
 The remarks mollified the young man's anger extremely. 
 He smoothed down his ruffled plumage, and was presently 
 enjoying himself vastly with his companions, tipped back in 
 their chairs, with hats poised at the usual angle of tipsy 
 uncertainty, and smoke curling about their heads. 
 
 Gamp went on appealing in his blandest tones for Edward's 
 confirmation of his opinions ; but for all the assistance ren-
 
 390 KATE WESTON. 
 
 dered by his answers, he might as well have asked them of 
 the desk at which they were standing. He went on, however, 
 apparently absorbed in his work, until a motion was made by 
 the young men in the corner to leave. lie then closed the 
 book, saying, " Our business, I believe, is completed. I think, 
 sir, you will like that revolver ; return it, if it does not please 
 you." 
 
 Reid, in his half-tipsy state, had been relating a pretended 
 account of Edward's " taking the mitten," as he called it ; 
 they talked in a low tone, but laughed immoderately, and 
 Reid, turning half-way round as they started down the saloon, 
 said pompously, in a loud whisper, " Yes, sirs, the lady ith an 
 arrant coquette, but I have conquered her ; at leatht, I flatter 
 myself." 
 
 "But you have left no stone unturned to do it," said 
 Myers. 
 
 " The he has," whispered Gamp, as though involun- 
 tarily, close to Edward's ear. 
 
 The glance of half-concealed merriment with which the 
 young men regarded him as they passed to the door was not 
 lost ; but it was not that that galled him. Myers came to settle 
 the bill, while the others stepped out upon the piazza. Reid 
 stood in the doorway talking to those outside. Edward 
 stepped unsteadily towards him. 
 
 " I speak truth," said Reid to one of his friends outside, as 
 though in answer to something the other had been saying. 
 
 " You speak falsehood, sir," cried Edward, in a voice hoarse 
 with passion. " You have uttered nothing but falsehood. How 
 dare you, sir, profane a lady's name by taking it upon your 
 lips, in such a place, and such a connection ?" 
 
 " I wath not aware," said Reid, mockingly, who had taken 
 just wine enough to be insolent, "that you heard my 
 remarkths, neither wath I aware that you had any further 
 right to guard that lady'th name from the pollution of my 
 tongue." There was an audible titter outside.
 
 KATE WESTON. 391 
 
 " I have the right, sir, of a gentleman and a friend, neither 
 of -which you possess." He advanced two or three steps 
 towards Reid. 
 
 Reid gave his cane a little flourish. " The hon'able ith 
 carried away by hith jealouthy. He forgeth that I am a 
 conthtant vithitor of the lady in quethtion." 
 
 "Persecuting her with your attention, and then linking 
 her name with that of a danseuse." 
 
 "True, she hath been a difficult thubject, but I flatter 
 mythelf that the thweet creature ith caught at latht." 
 
 " You are a villain, sir !" shouted Edward, seizing him by 
 the collar, and hurling him down the steps. Reid caught by 
 one of the posts to save himself from falling, and in a moment 
 the sword-cane, which he always carried, was unsheathed. 
 Quick as thought, the revolver was held aloft in Edward's 
 hand. The young men on 'the piazza sprang forward and 
 caught an arm of each. Edward shook them off like grass- 
 hoppers. The next moment there was a flash a report and 
 Reid lay weltering in his blood. 
 
 " It was all over, the deed of that fearful night. There 
 was a rush from the upper saloon. Edward heard a confused 
 murmur of voices, saw a crowd of familiar faces, with a 
 world of terror in their glance, a figure bathed in blood 
 Kate's pale face seeming tp rise through the outer darkness. 
 Then the solemn stars, the bleeding figure, the terror-stricken 
 faces, all reeled like a horrible nightmare before his frenzied 
 vision, Alas ! alas ! that that fatal dream was real !
 
 392 KATE WESTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 You might have heard the rustle of a sparrow's wing in 
 the crowded court-room. So intense was the interest mani- 
 fested through the whole course of the trial, that it was 
 actually painful now, that it had reached its culminating point 
 There were many reasons why an unusual degree of excite- 
 ment should attend the whole proceeding. The prisoner's 
 family had sustained for years an unexceptionable position in 
 society. The name of the prisoner himself had scarcely died 
 upon the lips of hundreds who had just elected him to an 
 office of honor and trust. It was of no common crime that 
 he was accused, for the charge was of assault with intent to 
 kill. His beauty of person, extraordinary talents, and wonder- 
 ful precocity of intellect had been admired, nay, even gloried 
 in, by hjs personal and political friends all over the country. 
 
 On the other hand, the young man whose life for months 
 had been suspended by a thread, in consequence of the 
 assault, was the son of an eminent judge, who had always 
 befriended the young senator. His pallid face, as he was sup- 
 ported to the stand to give evidence against the prisoner, had 
 some influence in turning the tide of sympathy that all along 
 floated with the accused. 
 
 Mr. Jeremiah was bending forward with both hands clutch- 
 ing tightly the red bandana over the back of the seat, and 
 eyes painfully straining at the little door whose latch was 
 clinking the suspended doom of his idol-boy. Mary was 
 bowing her head forward, trembling so that her husband was 
 obliged to support her with his firmer arm. The young 
 pastor and his wife were sending silent prayers to heaven.
 
 KATE WESTON. 393 
 
 Mr. Pufton was winking his round eyes, unconsciously elbow- 
 ing his innocent neighbors, and quivering with anxiety from 
 head to foot. Rosy, in the back-ground, was stifling great 
 sobs that heaved her broad bosom in spite of her self-control. 
 The prisoner alone, pale and motionless, retained apparent 
 calmness in that moment of suspense. 
 
 Slowly those twelve men walked in, and filed one by one 
 into the jury-box. Then followed a moment's pause. There 
 was a slight tremor even in the judge's voice, " Your verdict, 
 gentlemen ?" 
 
 " GUILTY of assault with intent to kill." 
 
 There was a burst of feeling through the whole court, as 
 though the straining chord of sympathy had suddenly 
 snapped asunder. 
 
 " Has the prisoner anything to say why sentence should not 
 be passed upon him ?" 
 
 Edward rose slowly, and stood a moment silent. When he 
 spoke, his voice was low, but so distinct that it could be heard 
 to the remotest corner of the room. 
 
 " Gentlemen, your verdict is a just one. But with regard 
 to the latter clause, in my case you are mistaken. Guilty I 
 have been, more guilty far than those who have enjoyed fewer 
 advantages, and less powerful incentives to all things pure and 
 good. But I had no more intent to kill than any gentleman 
 of your number. My brain was on fire ; there was indignation, 
 frenzy, violence, but not murder, in my heart. Your sentence, 
 whatever it may be, will be as nothing to the agony of suspense 
 endured during the eight long weeks that the man I wounded 
 lay lingering between life and death. Nor could a total 
 acquittal have weighed as a feather in the balance, had his 
 life been the forfeit of my madness. 
 
 " Still, your decision is a just one. But while you have pub- 
 licly performed your duty, disgraced, humiliated as I am, I 
 cannot neglect the performance of mine. Gentlemen, there is 
 a wrong in our laws, a grievous wrong. While nearly every
 
 394 KATK WESTOX. 
 
 crime is committed under the influence of ardent spirits, no 
 restraining law prevents the temptation from being spread out 
 in an infinite variety of forms before men of all ages, tempera- 
 ments, and stations. Time was, when I should have laughed 
 at the idea of a law like that which has just passed the legis- 
 lature of Maine. Experience has taught me how bitter the 
 experience, both to myself and those I love," here for the 
 first time his voice trembled, "some here may imagine 
 experience has taught me that no temporal blessing God 
 ever bestowed upon our country, not even the liberty that is 
 its greatest pride, could equal the universal adoption of a law 
 for the suppression of the sale of intoxicating drinks. 
 
 " I do solemnly aver that had I been free from the influ- 
 ence of wine, no insult could have prompted me to a deed 
 like that for which I am condemned." For an instant he 
 paused again ; then raising his head, as though he had forgot- 
 ten where he stood, his voice swelling in a solemn peal to the 
 core of every heart not altogether warped by passion or pre- 
 judice. " Your Honor, and Gentlemen of the Jury, there are 
 thousands through our country pouring into our prisons and 
 poor-houses, filling the murderer's grave, and more who are 
 destroying inch by inch, lives that they have sworn to bless. 
 The fault is yours. The judgment of Almighty God rests at 
 your door ; it rests at the door of every freeman who labors 
 not for the total extermination of so huge an evil. 
 
 " While, in my case, there was greater sin than in hun- 
 dreds of similar ones, you will remember that to those who 
 have never been taught to eschew the evil, those who have 
 received no Bible instruction attended no Sabbath-school 
 listened to no faithful preacher, the temptation is accom- 
 panied by no misgiving, the indulgence with no remorse. 
 These form the great body of our criminals. They are 
 tempted beyond what they are able to bear, they fall because 
 they are maddened by the poison with which you see them 
 fed. You seize them, visit upon them the heaviest punish-
 
 KATE WESTON. 395 
 
 ments of the law, and yet lift not a finger to save others from 
 the same pit where they have fallen. 
 
 " Crime must be punished ; justice demands it ; the peace 
 of society requires it ; God's Holy Word enjoins it. But, that 
 with your sanction, criminals should first be fostered in such 
 a hot-bed of passion as the drinking-shop must inevitably be, 
 and then thrust forth like poisonous herbs to perish in our 
 prisons or on our scaffolds, is an injustice almost too vast for 
 belief. 
 
 " Much has been said of the unconstitutionality of such 
 a law. Upon that, I have only this to say. I do not 
 believe a single person who has no self-interest to serve, ever 
 thought the law unconstitutional ; nor do I believe that any 
 one human being who knows, and all do know, that alcohol 
 is a poison, has not the certainty in his heart that such a law is 
 in strict accordance with our constitution. Excuse me, your 
 Honor, and Gentlemen of the Jury, if L have seemed too 
 earnest. Self-defence and conscience both prompt my words. 
 If I speak the truth, your hearts will receive the truth ; if I 
 speak not truth, your hearts will reject the falsehood. God 
 judge between you and me." 
 
 There was a hush like the hush of midnight when Edward 
 paused. Then the grave voice of the judge broke upon the 
 stillness. Few words were said and the sentence, so far as 
 duration was concerned, was lenient. The prisoner was con- 
 ducted from the court to a solitary cell, there to work out a 
 bitter repentance for the sinning past. 
 
 So perished ambition in that manly breast. So, in the 
 flush of youth and genius, sank one of earth's bright stars 
 from the sky of political life. Men sighed, and women wept 
 his fate. But there was one young heart that throbbed for 
 him alone, pouring up from a couch of suffering prayers that 
 might have called choicer blessings on the stricken head than 
 earth with all its wealth could offer. Where the sunlight 
 streamed across a gentle mother kneeling at the bed-side
 
 396 KATE WESTON. ' 
 
 of her child, a stronger hope-light poured in upon their 
 trusting souls. " Thy ways, O Lord, are not as our ways, nor 
 thy thoughts as our thoughts. For as high as the heavens 
 are above the earth, so are thy ways above our ways, and thy 
 thoughts above our thoughts." 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXH. 
 
 THE morning after the trial was over, William Steele was 
 sitting in his office, surrounded by newspapers, manuscripts, 
 and all the usual litter of an editor's sanctum. He heard a 
 step at his side, and turned to look at the intruder. A tall 
 young man, with -a fresh, energetic expression of countenance, 
 and full, dark whiskers, stood before him. He did not speak 
 at first. Steele looked puzzled, as though trying to recognize 
 the stranger. 
 
 " You do not remember me, sir?" said the young man, at 
 the same time dropping his shoulders and head forward in 
 a peculiarly drooping position. 
 
 " Why, Bill !" exclaimed Steele, starting up in the utmost 
 surprise. " Where have you dropped from ? How you have 
 altered, to be sure. I should never have known you but 
 for " 
 
 " For my giving you a glimpse of my old self, eh ? Yes, I 
 have altered some," he continued, in a firm, bright tone, and 
 with a proud straightening of his fine figure. Nothing like a 
 free spirit, and plenty to do, sir nothing." 
 
 " And where are you now ?" asked Mr. Steele, giving him 
 a seat. 
 
 " Up at Niagara, playing farmer just at present. But before 
 I answer any questions, I want to ask some. Mr. Edward is 
 condemned ? I'm too late ?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 397 
 
 "Yes," said Steele shaking his head sorrowfully, "he is 
 sentenced to nine months' imprisonment. It has been a ter- 
 rible stroke to all of us. It was so sudden, so unexpected." 
 
 " And was he to blame ? Could he have attempted mur- 
 der ? I will not believe it." 
 
 " He was to blame," said Steele, sorrowfully, " so far as this. 
 He was flattered into excess in drinking wine three years ago. 
 He did not break the chain that was binding him until it 
 became too much for his strength. He fell into gay, worldly 
 society, and became like them. Further than this, he was 
 innocent as you or I would be, should we accidentally take 
 an overdose of morphine, and kill a man, while we were 
 delirious under its influence." 
 
 Tears started to the open blue eyes of the listener. " I 
 knew it, sir, I knew it, and I hurried on the moment I 
 returned from England, to be present, if possible, at the trial. 
 To tell the truth, I was haunted with the suspicion that Gamp 
 might be at the bottom of the affair. I hoped that something 
 I could testify of him might materially affect the case, but 1 
 am too late too late ! Had he any hand in it, sir ? I do not 
 mean openly, for that would be totally foreign from his 
 nature ; but nothing that could have been taken hold of ?" 
 
 Steele shook his head, but looked very intently into the air 
 before him, as though trying to shape a vague something that 
 he saw without a shape. " I don't know," he said at length, 
 hesitatingly, " it was strange, the conversation Edward over- 
 heard, and the offering him that revolver then, just then. Oh 
 no, there was nothing that could have been adduced in 
 evidence " 
 
 A dark shadow crossed the listener's face. " He offered 
 him the revolver, eh ? Well, there was something, whether 
 it could be adduced in evidence or not ?" 
 
 " You are too late," said Steele, coming out of the vague 
 mist in which he seemed wandering ; " besides, you could have 
 done nothing but conjecture, and that would not have bene-
 
 398 KATE WESTON. 
 
 fited my poor brother at all. Come, tell me about your- 
 self. I never saw a man so changed in four years in all my 
 life." 
 
 A vision of the blushing face and lofty shirt-collar flitted 
 before the visitor's memory; he had not changed alone, at 
 least, he thought. " Some men change sooner than others, 
 Mr. Steele. I had been so crushed all my life before I left 
 here, that no faculty was developed. So there has been a 
 rapid unfolding of mental and physical life since I saw you. 
 I verily believe, if it had not been for him" the tears started 
 to his eyes again, " I should still have been the slave of that 
 man's hatred." 
 
 " But what have you been doing, and how are you pros- 
 pering. During the last year I have heard of you through 
 Edward, but I had no idea of so great an alteration." 
 
 So the young man commenced with his departure from 
 Laconia, and told his history. How he had struggled at mst 
 with difficulty, temptation, and fear of discovery by his tyrant 
 master. How, when the last shilling Edward had given him 
 was gone, he had found employment in a steam-factory to 
 sweep the rooms. How he had become interested in the 
 wonderful machinery, and studied night and morning when 
 he was not at work, until he had obtained a thorough mastery 
 of its mysteries. Then he detailed, step by step, the long, 
 earnest ascent to the higher knowledge of the art ; the deve- 
 lopment of inventive powers within him ; a new discovery for 
 which some English manufacturer had offered him three- 
 thousand dollars. " And now," said he tremulously, " when I 
 was coming back, after purchasing a pleasant little home on 
 the banks of the Niagara river, to pour out my debt of gra- 
 titude to those who, under God, have been the means of my 
 success, I find the brave spirit that infused courage into 
 mine" He stopped, and bowed his head upon his hand. 
 
 He had looked for years to the period of his return as the 
 triumph -moment of his life. With the exception of Maggie,
 
 KATE WESTON. 399 
 
 there was no being whose image he had so cherished as that 
 of Edward. 
 
 There was a long pause. Both seemed wandering in spirit 
 to the cell where one they had mutually loved was wearing 
 away in disgrace and loneliness the days of his glorious prime. 
 At length Steele spoke. 
 
 " But you have friends left here still, to whom it will be a 
 pleasure to impart the news of your success." 
 
 "A few," was the answer. "Yourself, and two or three 
 others. I have ascertained something during my visit to 
 England, that has opened light upon my birth and parentage. 
 I am the only child of Father Benson's lost sou. My name 
 is William Benson." 
 
 Steele held up both hands in astonishment. "You? 
 Father Benson's grandchild ? He will go beside himself !" 
 
 " I was told by one of my father's old shipmates. He 
 recognized me by my resemblance to my father, and proves 
 the fact by a birth-mark on my left shoulder. He described 
 Gamp, too, so that there was no mistaking him. But that is 
 not all the history ; there is something mysterious in the fact 
 of Gamp's having so egregiously deceived me. I never be- 
 lieved him. exactly ; but he must have had some powerful 
 motive to induce him to venture in making a story out of 
 whole cloth about my relation to him." 
 
 " Did the man you met seem to know anything about your 
 father?" asked Steele, with much interest. 
 
 " Well, he had made two or three voyages with him, and 
 he said that my father, who was second mate of the vessel, 
 always seemed quite independent, so far as money was con- 
 cerned. I have thought," he continued, with a thoughtful 
 air, " that money might have been at the bottom of it all. 
 It would be so like that man. But that doesn't account alto- 
 gether for his treatment of me." 
 
 " No," said Steele, " if he had been kind to you, he'd have 
 been much safer from detection ; it's plain there's a mystery
 
 400 KATE WESTON. 
 
 somewhere, but how it's to be cleared is more than I can see. 
 How are you sure your father was old Father Benson's son ?" 
 
 " This Ellis, the man who gave me my information, had 
 heard the whole story from his lips just before his death 
 the running off to sea, the grief of his parents, the habits of 
 intemperance he formed, his marriage, reformation, and reso- 
 lution to return. It seems he was on his way from China, 
 when the cholera broke out, and both my mother and father 
 fell victims to its ravages. He said that Gamp, or Murphy, 
 as he then called himself, had used every means to worm 
 himself into my father's confidence, but he never could guess 
 his motive." 
 
 " And your mother 1 did he know anything of her ?" 
 
 " Only that she seemed gentle and well-bred, and died some 
 time before my father." 
 
 " And didn't you try to get some other clue through him ? 
 Some of his comrades on the vessel at the time might have 
 thrown more light upon the subject." 
 
 " Oh, I tried, of course ; but he left the vessel when he 
 reached Liverpool, and never came across any of them after- 
 wards." 
 
 " And what are you going to do ? tell the old gentleman 
 of it?" 
 
 " Certainly. It is the least I can do in honor of my father, 
 to soothe the sorrow he caused the poor old gentleman, and 
 to be a faithful grandson to him. I always liked him, and if 
 I really look so much like my father, I don't fear any want of 
 a cordial reception from him." 
 
 "Well, well, strange things do occur in our every-day 
 world," cried Steele, starting from his chair. "Come then, 
 Bill no, Benson I must call you now you must go home 
 to dinner with me, and then I'll go help you open your rela- 
 tionship with your new-found grandfather. By the way, did 
 you know your old friend Maggie was teaching our village 
 school ?"
 
 KATE WESTON. 401 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered the young man, slightly coloring. 
 " I have never entirely ceased corresponding with her since I 
 left," 
 
 " I thought she knew more about you than any one else, 
 but for a wonder, my sister-in-law, Mrs. Terry, kept her secret 
 from all the rest of us, though I am certain she knows every- 
 thing in Maggie's heart." 
 
 " When I left," said the other, " Maggie promised me to let 
 no one know anything about me, I was in such mortal terror 
 of Gamp ; lately, I suppose, she hardly thinks me worth tell- 
 ing about. I haven't heard from her directly in six months. 
 I suppose she has almost forgotten me by this time." 
 
 There was a pause, filled up with two or three sighs by the 
 speaker, and an unspoken surmise of Steele that such careful 
 silence in a woman was an indication of anything but indiffer- 
 ence. 
 
 " I thought, perhaps," said the young man, with a blush and 
 some hesitation, "that Maggie was going to be married." 
 He waited earnestly, eagerly, Steele thought, for an answer. 
 
 " Nothing of the sort, I can assure you," he answered, with 
 a meaning smile. " Pooh, how could her letters reach you 
 while you were wandering all over England ? Come, we'll 
 start again, or we shall keep the dinner waiting." 
 
 Maggie was the only person who recognized her old friend 
 at first sight. But somehow there was no such outgushing 
 of emotion as had accompanied the parting. Only a glisten- 
 ing of the great dark eyes, more than half hidden by the 
 drooping lashes, a flush of the noble face, and a timid courtesy 
 that was very unlike her usual quiet self-possession. William 
 thought she had altered very much ; there had been a charm 
 to him in the childish, loving heart, greater than the beauty 
 of matured womanhood could bestow. The classic head, with 
 its looped ringlets, and the lofty expression of the face, were 
 so different from the flying curls, the eager mirth or gushing 
 sorrow that he had loved to watch in childhood. Her man-
 
 402 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 ner seemed so cold, almost repellant, that he hardly dared 
 revert to the past. 
 
 Foolish Will 1 Was he coming back so very different 
 from his boyish self, with his heart fluttering so that he could 
 hardly speak to her, and expect to see her flying in her little 
 check apron, and tossing curls to hang about his neck, and 
 kiss that great black moustache. Fy fy ! for shame ! 
 
 Quite a little formula of preliminaries had been arranged 
 for letting Father Benson into the secret of William's relation 
 to himself. Mr. and Mrs. Terry, Mary and her husband, and 
 Maggie were present. Quite an elaborate explanation had 
 been prepared by Mr. Terry, for there were many apprehen- 
 sions lest the old gentleman should not be able to comprehend 
 the peculiar state of affairs. His monomania had so grown 
 upon him, that although perfectly sane upon other points, 
 they hardly believed that he would accept any other version 
 than his own of his lost boy's story. Every year he was 
 growing increasingly certain that his boy would return in 
 three months, and never omitted enjoining upon all his friends 
 to "kill the fatted calf" the moment all things came to their 
 inevitable happy issue. 
 
 They might as well have spared themselves all trouble and 
 anxiety upon the subject, for he interpreted the affair in his 
 own fashion, and exceedingly to his satisfaction. They were 
 all seated in the long parlor when he ambled in as usual in 
 his long-skirted over-coat, making his ordinary salutation of 
 three affable little bows, and decisive little thumps. Mr. 
 Jeremiah strode up to him with his old cordial air, subdued 
 of late by sorrow, flourishing his red bandana in one hand, 
 and his delighted little friend in the other. 
 
 The old gentleman had always been partial to a shaking 
 by his early friend. So hearty, so full of brotherhood was 
 each swing of the grasping hand, that every titillation always 
 infused an extra sparkle of good humor into the ecstatic gray 
 eyes. When the shaking was over, he stepped briskly to the
 
 KATE WESTON. 403 
 
 table, deposited hat, gloves, parcel, and taking his silver- 
 headed cane proceeded on his accustomed tour of salutation. 
 They were not at all prepared for the unceremonious per- 
 formance that followed. Father Benson stopped at Mrs. Terry, 
 administered his three bows and thumps, then at Mary, then 
 at Steele, then came plump before his unknown grandson. 
 For one moment he looked in his face, uttered a wild cry, 
 dropped his cane, fell upon his neck, and wept aloud. For a 
 full minute there was not a word spoken. Then the old man 
 dropped upon his knees right down before his grandson, 
 pouring forth incoherent sobs and cries of praise. " Lord, I 
 bless thee for my boy, O Lord, I bless thee ! Now lettest 
 thou thy servant depart in peace, since mine eyes have seen 
 thy salvation. Thy salvation Lord my God ! I bless 
 thee! Bless the Lord, my soul! Verily, thy mercy 
 endureth for ever! My son my son! God bless thee, O 
 my son." 
 
 For five minutes he knelt there, the young man's hands 
 clasped in his, pouring out broken cries of gratitude and joy. 
 There was not an eye in the room but overflowed with tears, 
 and for some time after he had risen from his knees, there 
 was no voice that could trust itself to speak. 
 
 After a while, Mr. Terry attempted an explanation. But 
 Father Benson did not understand ; there was no convincing 
 him. He would look with a face beaming with fatherly 
 love upon the youth, and account for everything himself that 
 did not quite agree with his preconceived ideas. Mr. Terry 
 went on very smoothly until he came to an account of the 
 cholera breaking out on the vessel. He was congratulating 
 himself upon his success in being so well understood, when 
 all at once the old gentleman, who had forgotten all about 
 his cane, gave William three tender little thumps upon his 
 shoulder, saying compassionately. 
 
 " And so you lost your wife, Will, and your boy ? You 
 know your poor mother's dead. Oh, my boy, you've suffered
 
 404 KATE WESTON. 
 
 as well as me, but the Lord's brought you home at last. I 
 got the letter three years ago, about your coming home, and 
 your poor wife and all. Three years, everything goes by 
 threes," then, suddenly gathering into one concentrated 
 thought, the anticipated rapture of his life, he gave his 
 grandson three more rapturous thumps, and looked triumph- 
 antly round upon the company. " Rejoice ! for the day of 
 rejoicing is come; bring forth the fatted calf; let us eat and 
 be merry. For this my son was dead and is alive again ; 
 was lost and is found." 
 
 He looked as though he expected the fatted calf to make 
 its appearance immediately in honor of his happiness. A 
 meaning glance passed from William Benson around the 
 whole circle, and the delusion was suffered to remain unbroken. 
 He was never undeceived, for two ,very good reasons, first 
 because it would have been impossible to make him under- 
 stand the truth, and second, because nobody wanted to make 
 him understand it. 
 
 The next day, Mr. Jeremiah, putting aside his own great 
 sorrow, did, indeed, kill the fatted calf, and invited his aged 
 friend to come and make merry over the prodigal's return, 
 indulging him in his request that the dinner should be served 
 at three l " because, you know," he whispered mysteriously, 
 " everything goes by threes." 
 
 There must have been some mistake in William Benson's 
 opinion, either of Maggie Terry, or of his own fancies, for 
 when the early summer came, there was a wedding at the 
 parsonage, a wedding of two hearts, each rescued by care and 
 sympathy from a life of wretchedness, a death of despair. 
 Gems, too, were those hearts, that would have lain for ever 
 buried in the rubbish of a sinful world, but for kindlv hands 
 that drew them forth, and polished them through years of 
 watchfulness and labor. There are more such gems hidden 
 in the dark byways of our world. Go thou and do like- 
 wise.
 
 Amid all the hilarity, none saw, within a thick copse at the side of the pleasant 
 forest-path, a face peering out upon the bridal pair as they passed its hiding-place. A 
 
 ok that the serpent might have worn while gazing on the bliss of Eden, distorted the 
 dark visage, and the squinting eyes looked hatred out upon the prey that had so 
 completely broken from their charm. P. 405.
 
 KATE WESTON. 405 
 
 It was a gay bridal day, quite after the olden time. All 
 Maggie's scholars came to the picnic in the grove, directly after 
 the ceremony, and the path down which the bridal party 
 passed, was strewn with summer-flowers. Father Benson 
 appeared upon the ground without his " standard library," in 
 such a tremulous condition of delight, that his long skirts 
 were in imminent danger of being detached by every brier 
 with which he came in contact. If he had danced a horn- 
 pipe, he could not have made a greater number of evolutions, 
 or afforded more amusement to the company than his 
 unbounded happiness produced. 
 
 The fact of only a little" over three months having elapsed 
 since William's return, was one source of unfailing satisfac- 
 tion. " Three three everything goes by threes you see 
 at last, that everything goes by threes," he whispered ecstati- 
 cally to Mr. Jeremiah in the morning, to Mr. Terry in the 
 afternoon ; and when the company came, and the party 
 started out on the rural excursion, his time was about equally 
 divided in advocating this particular portion of his creed, 
 convincing the credulous that he could write a first-rate ser- 
 mon, and, notwithstanding the thing had once been accom- 
 plished entirely to his satisfaction, calling upon everybody he 
 met to " kill the fatted calf, and make merry," at the prodi- 
 gal's return. 
 
 Amid all the hilarity, none saw, within a thick copse at the 
 side of the pleasant forest-path, a face peeping out upon the 
 bridal pair as they passed its hiding-place. A look that the 
 serpent might have worn while gazing on the bliss of Eden, 
 distorted the dark visage, ' and the squinting eyes looked 
 hatred out upon the prey that had so completely broken from 
 their charm. And when, after they had all been ranged 
 around the bountiful table, the clergyman raised his voice in 
 praise ; when, from his distant concealment, he saw the once 
 jaded, hopeless, cringing victim of his hate, now standing in 
 the strength of hopeful manhood, with a face lighted all over
 
 406 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 with devout gratitude to the God who had redeemed him ; a 
 deeper intensity of hate settled in the fiendish eyes, and a 
 curse unspoken struggled in his heart. 
 
 But there was another watcher there ; a fierce, haggard 
 woman, closely vailed, who looked from the sheltering 
 branches of a laurel upon them, as they swept by with their 
 train of laughing children and maidens. Oh, the eager gaze 
 of those fiery eyes, as they drank in at one glance the ecstasy 
 of that moment.' There was a depth of gratitude in that 
 scathed bosom, that would have prompted her to lay down 
 life as a worthless reed for the noble hearts that had saved 
 her child. 
 
 When the scene of hilarity was over, when the grove lay 
 still and dark beneath the straggling stars, that ruined 
 woman fell upon the ground where the bride and groom had 
 knelt, kissing the trodden grass, and weeping frantically from 
 excess of joy. Joy ! joy like hers was a lightning glance, 
 shooting across a sky terrible .with storms, above a landscape 
 desolate as death. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIE. 
 
 THE flower must be crushed to shed its fragrance. He 
 " who doeth all things well," had crushed the flower of the 
 Westons' home, that it might scatter sweetness over gardens 
 unblest with flowers so rare. 
 
 Kate had been very ill. The cutting asunder of those 
 ties that had so woven themselves into her being, had left her 
 spirit faint and weary. We need hardly say that the atten- 
 tions of Reid had been annoying in the extreme, nor that 
 Edward, unless rendered blind from wounded feeling, would 
 have stoutly disbelieved anything he could have heard to the
 
 KATE WESTON. 407 
 
 contrary. The suspense with which she had awaited the 
 result of the election had increased her weakness, and the 
 news of Edward's rash assault had completely prostrated her 
 in both mind and body. Mental suffering had so preyed 
 upon her frame, that there seemed, too little strength to resist 
 any disease that might threaten her. When an attack of 
 lung-fever followed almost immediately upon Edward's fall, 
 it seemed as though no skill or care would restore her health. 
 It was not until after the trial that she was able to leave her 
 bed, and the soft airs of spring were toying with the flowers 
 before her cough gave way, and her cheek recovered some- 
 thing of its bloom. 
 
 Her mother folded her to her bosom, as one given back to 
 her from the grave. Rosy's yellow turban rustled with satis- 
 faction as the light foot once more sounded with some of its 
 old elasticity on the kitchen stairs. " De Lord be tanked," 
 she would say to Beccy Jones, as she watched the slender 
 figure glide away, " He's spared one of his angels to bless dis 
 yer wicked world. My heart was nigh a breakin', all de 
 time she lay dere so pale an' sperit-like. Tear'd she would 
 go home to glory, and den I tink ole Rosy would ha' followed 
 arter ; 'pears Missie Katie only comforter now. Lawsakes, 
 never 'spected to see her so peart again." 
 
 Rebecca Jones, now a bright, handsome girl, said little, but 
 the sparkle of her eyes as she brought her daily offering of 
 wild flowers during the invalid's convalescence, spoke elo- 
 quently to the heart of the young, untiring teacher who had 
 led her by gentle steps from ignorance and misery to self- 
 respect and happiness. 
 
 There was not a morning during the whole period of her 
 illness that Mr. Jeremiah's red bandana did not make its 
 appearance before Mrs. Weston's door. At first, during the 
 greatest danger, it only flirted nervously back and forth, before 
 the broad benevolent face, as a sort of screen, probably, to 
 its expression of anxiety and sorrow ; afterwards, when she
 
 408 KATE WESTON. 
 
 was pronounced better, it ventured upon a subdued flutter, 
 and when Kate herself first appeared at the door, holding 
 out her white, thin hand, it actually burst into its old flourish 
 of unmixed delight. 
 
 The other members of his family, too, to whom Kate had 
 long been dear as one of their own number, now felt an addi- 
 tional tenderness towards her. Not one of them but guessed 
 quite accurately the circumstances of their brother's separa- 
 tion from her, but they could not blame her. Mary, indeed, 
 with her less lofty standard of duty, thought sometimes that 
 mere fondness of company, and occasional excess were 
 scarcely worth such notice as they had received, but the 
 impetuous nature was hushed at the sick couch of her early 
 friend. She would leave her baby and her household cares 
 to come and relieve the mother for a season, in watching 
 beside her child. She learned many lessons there of faith 
 and patience that were treasured afterwards amid the petty 
 annoyances of life, and that future trial should sanctify to a 
 more immediate use. 
 
 At the time of Maggie's wedding, Kate's strength was not 
 quite equal to accompanying them 01 their excursion to the 
 grove. But they came to see her before they left, in com- 
 pany with Father Benson, for the home William's care had 
 already provided. 
 
 When Kate was again able to take her accustomed daily 
 walk, she had greater faith, purer love, and holier piety than 
 anything but trial can bestow. A fountain but charily play- 
 ing before, now opened forth its treasures to send new life 
 into trees broken by the storm, and flowers withered with the 
 scorching heat. Sorrow alone can teach the depth of other 
 sorrow. When Kate was able to walk again in the green 
 fields, her heart yearned over the suffering ones she had so 
 often relieved. They, too, to whom her sympathy was given, 
 felt the change that had stolen over her. Before, they had 
 valued her kindness, but now, there was a charm in the
 
 KATE WESTON. 409 
 
 expression of the gentle eye a something, they could not 
 tell what, that made them open out their sorrows to her gaze, 
 as though she might be a better part of their very selves, to 
 feel with and for them in their suffering. 
 
 " And where art thou going to-day, my daughter ?" said 
 Mrs. Weston, looking over her glasses, as Kate entered in 
 her walking-dress. 
 
 " Oh, mother, I am going to take a long walk to-day," she 
 said, coaxingly, " over to see Kitty and the poor little crippled 
 girl." 
 
 Her mother shook her head. " Too far, I'm afraid, child, 
 and without company." 
 
 " Don't say no, now, mother, for I feel so strong to-day, and 
 the air is bracing ; it will do me good." 
 
 " But you shouldn't go alone, child ; why didst thou not 
 find some companion ?" 
 
 " 1 tried, mother, but failed in the attempt. If you were 
 only a little younger now, I need never go alone. What a 
 precious mother God has given me." She stooped to kiss 
 the placid brow, shaded by its silver waves, and the chastened 
 light of her sweet face seemed radiant to the mother as an 
 angel-vision. 
 
 Before Kate started, -she went down to the bench by the 
 water-side. She went there every morning now, to pray. 
 She gathered there fresh strength to " suffer and be strong." 
 She carried from there faith and sympathy to impart to those 
 weaker than herself in the strife of earth, and she brought 
 back a heart soothed in soothing others. But this was not 
 all. As Jacob wrestled at Peniel, so that sore heart wrestled 
 for him to whom her love clung the firmer for misfortune and 
 disgrace. 
 
 When she reached the turn where Mary and herself had 
 paused on the same mission many years before, she turned 
 again into the grove, and threw herself upon the grass to rest. 
 The majestic river flowing on in its unceasing tide, the moun-
 
 410 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 tains, the blue sky, brought back like a dream the dim fore- 
 bodings of that day. " Christ the Ark." There was no safeiy 
 out of that shelter she had known it then but she felt it 
 now. While she mused, the hope swelled strong Avithin her, 
 that at last, when the terrible ordeal was over, he for whom 
 she hoped, would rest safe within that refuge, from the temp- 
 tations of the world. Laboring not for the treasure that 
 perisheth, but for " an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, 
 and that fadeth not away." 
 
 Kate knew that a vast change had come over the outward 
 estate of Eben Jones, but she was scarcely prepared for the 
 sight that greeted her as she approached his dwelling. Broken 
 crockery, rusty tin, the old cart and barrels, the lank cow, and 
 the forlorn little doubtful baby, had given place to shrubs 
 and rose-vines, neat flower-beds, and narrow gravel-walks, all 
 enclosed by a pretty white fence that looked somewhat out 
 of keeping with the still dingy house. 
 
 A fat little fellow of four years or so, with roguish eyes, and 
 very rosy cheeks, sat on the steps munching a huge piece of 
 bread and butter. When he saw Kate, his rosy cheeks dimpled, 
 but he retreated behind his bread and butter, only venturing 
 a sly peep at her occasionally from his mischievous eyes. 
 She did not wait for an invitation, b^it sat down by him on 
 the stone, and bent her face to look into his. 
 
 " Here, you little rogue, so you don't care anything about 
 me now I've been away so long, eh ? Give me a kiss." 
 
 The little boy peeped coyly at her from the corner of his 
 eye, but when she drew him upon her lap, he buried his curly 
 head in her bosom with a musical laugh that gave full assu- 
 rance of his delight at seeing her. In a few minutes the shy- 
 ness wore off, and he had such a host of questions to pro- 
 pound that it quite puzzled her to answer them. " Where 
 had she been so long ? What was the reason he couldn't see 
 her when he went to see Beccy ? What made her send him 
 such nice papers of candy instead of bringing them herself?
 
 KATE WESTON. 411 
 
 Did she know that he went to Infant School, and knew every 
 one of his letters, and could sing, ' Children go to and fro,' 
 all through? Didn't she want to see his fat mamma? That 
 father had brought him such a nice, fat mamma and he 
 didn't be dirty any more and she was so good she made 
 him a new kite every morning, and gave him just as much 
 bread and molasses as ever he wanted." 
 
 " No, she hadn't seen his mamma yet ; not since she was 
 his mamma. Would he take her in to see her?" 
 
 " He guessed he would ; he was sure she'd say that was a 
 good mamma ; she laughed so, and made father laugh too." 
 
 So in they went. Kate sat down in the front room. Her 
 little friend disappeared for a moment, and came back pulling 
 the skirt of our old friend Biddy, and shouting, " Here she 
 is ! isn't she a nice mamma ?" The new Mrs. Jones came 
 bearing down upon her visitor, with all sails set, and a face 
 beaming like a full moon within the wide ruffle of her cap. 
 
 "Shure, an' it's happy I am to say you, Miss Weston. 
 Faith, but we've niver had a minute's pace wi' de young spal- 
 peen for the frettin' afther Miss Katie. An' ivery blissed day 
 he'd beg his father to fetch him over to see her. An' how's 
 your health now, Miss Weston ? for you're afther being very 
 sick all the winther." 
 
 Kate looked at the tidy room, the shining curls of her 
 little favorite, the bride's stout, wholesome figure, and her- 
 immaculate white apron, with more pleasure than she had 
 ever felt at anything in that place before. She was quite 
 weary, and reclined for nearly an hour in the great Boston 
 rocker that Mrs. Biddy had drawn up to the window for 
 her. 
 
 There was something in the young girl's manner, that with- 
 out any direct questioning, attracted the confidence of tho 
 poor and simple-hearted. There was something too, in the 
 good-humored frankness with which Biddy recapitulated her 
 many blessings, touched upon poor Teddy's delinquency, and
 
 412 KATE WESTON. 
 
 uttered cheerful hopes for the future, that was quite refresh- 
 ing to her visitor. 
 
 u Shure but it's mesel thinks he'd be afther lavin' this same 
 for the state o' Maine now, if he jist had the money to fitch 
 them there. Och, Miss Katie," she said earnestly, flapping 
 her white ruffles in the eagerness of her feeling, " but didrf t 
 I know Ameriky would stritch out a helpin' hand to the 
 poor, good-natured sowls that could niver help theirselves. 
 Ameriky's a glorious counthry, but whin the crathur is 
 dhriven away, it'll bate all the counthries on the face o' the 
 airth !" 
 
 By and by, as Kate sat looking out of the window, she 
 saw Michael Toole come running at full speed up the road. 
 Mrs. Biddy opened the door, and stood comfortably filling it 
 to await his arrival. Something must have happened, she 
 was sure, for the ecstasy of his delight was such, that he had 
 to topple off the superfluity in a full half-dozen somersets 
 before he reached the gate. "Whisht, Mike, an' will ye never 
 lave off tumbling till ye're tall as the giant o' Fincool." 
 
 The fat, overgrown boy did not take time to breathe, but 
 shouted at the top of his voice. " Father's promised to go 
 to Maine, an' Mother's a cryin', an' the young ones is a' dancin, 
 an' little Mary's a singin', an' there's such a blowin' around 
 that I cleared out over here to tell you so, Aunt Biddy, all 
 you've got to do is to pack up an' go along ; you know Ebon 
 said he'd go, if you would, an' you'll go fast enough now 
 the only thing is, we got to wait a while till we scrape together 
 fifteen dollars more Mother's afraid Fatherll get upsot, I 
 can see that plain enough ; an' I wish myself we could start 
 . off to-morrow but I'll foller your advice, Auntie, an' hope 
 for the best if" 
 
 There's no knowing how long he might have kept on, but 
 his running, tumbling, and talking had all been like the trot- 
 ting of a race-horse ; so he was absolutely forced to bring up 
 a moment for want of breath. His aunt caught the opportu-
 
 KATE WESTON. 413 
 
 nity of ushering him into Kate's presence, and going through 
 with the ceremony of introduction. He seemed to think that 
 he must have looked a little awkward coming up the road, for 
 he blushed and stammered, managing, however, to shoot off a 
 bow, bending his head, making a tremendous flourish with 
 his right hand, shuffling his right foot backwards until his 
 lower limbs were almost at right angles, and then dexterously 
 poising himself fair and square upon both feet. 
 
 Kate could not help smiling, but she entered with such 
 kindly interest into his plans, that he felt quite at ease again, 
 and related over, with a little less energy, the same particulars 
 he had been detailing to his aunt. The two poor ignorant 
 souls never stopped to question for a moment whether a Pro- 
 hibitory Law could be sustained on the ground of constitu- 
 tionality, or to doubt that, once under its sway, the veriest 
 drunkard would find an unfailing refuge from his infirmity. 
 
 " There's niver a fear but Eben '11 go along wid ye," said 
 Biddy, with her mellow, complacent laugh ; " he's afther axin' 
 me, yisterday, if I'd be continted there. An' I sez til him, sez 
 I, ' Now I'd jist be continted intirely, if I could fitch along poor 
 Teddy wid' me ; but shure, an' I could hardly have me own 
 mother's son to go back til his misery, an' maybe cripple all 
 his childher by and bye.' You see, Miss Kate, Eben's worried 
 about Jake, he be's so wild an' difficilt like. Faith, an' I'm 
 sure he comes home half drunk ivery blissed night of his life." 
 
 "Here the rosy-cheeked little boy, who had looked very much 
 interested ever since the appearance of Mike, interposed, with, 
 "Yes. Jake a'nt good to me a bit now; he wont ride me pig- 
 back any more, nor let me go to the lot and chop wood with 
 him. Will he be better, if he goes to Maine ? what is going 
 to Maine, any way ? will we buy oysters and candies, and have 
 a lot of bells on the horse, and get another fat mama ?" 
 
 Biddy's face grew broad with delight. " Faith, Miss, an' 
 it's Christmas he's afther remimberin', whin his father brought 
 him down to New York in the sleigh, and traited him til
 
 414 KATE WF.STON. 
 
 goodies ; an' it was that same day we was married, an' that's 
 why the rogue's a thinkin' of another* mama." 
 
 " Well, Ma'am," said Mike, after awhile, " I believe I'll bid 
 you good mornin'. I was just a mendin' up the fence a bit 
 for 'em home, an' I hope to see you well another day." Hav- 
 ing again executed a bow that would have shuffled a less dex- 
 terous tumbler flat upon his face, he started to go. Kate 
 called him back. 
 
 " You can tell your mother, Michael, that I was coming 
 overdo see her to-day on that very business, and that I think 
 I can help her out of her dilemma, so that you can all start 
 next week, if you like." 
 
 The boy bowed again, and walked down the road at a 
 moderately quick pace, but before he was out of sight he broke 
 into a run, and Kate hadn't the slightest doubt that he 
 repeated his somersets, for his mother's benefit, as soon as he 
 came within hailing distance of home. 
 
 As soon as Kate entered the door, Kitty Toole came out 
 into the hall with streaming eyes. " God bless you, Miss 
 Katie, that you niver forgot us through all your long sickness. 
 An' glad I am til see you comin' back like a ray o' sunshine 
 wid yer sweet face again." 
 
 " And how do you all do, Kitty ?" asked Kate, pleasantly, 
 following her into the room. 
 
 " Saure, an' we're well now, an' happy afther our throubles* 
 though little Mary keeps poorly yet. Its a sorry time she's 
 had of it this eight weeks now, and it would have been a sor- 
 rier, barrin' yerselJ was so careful sinding the new doctor over, 
 an' the nice quilts an' gowns for the poor child." 
 
 " You must tell me all about it now," said Kate, " for you 
 know I haven't heard exactly how it happened." 
 
 " Well, the way of it was this. The childher heard their 
 father comin', an' they run away til hide theirselves ; he never 
 bate them nor nothing, but he's always had a way of jist catch- 
 ing of thirn up, an' swingin' 'em round, or jumpin' 'em, till he
 
 KATE WESTOX. 415 
 
 hurt 'em pretty bad sometimes ; an' when he was dhrunk, 
 there was niver a haporth o' sinse in him to kape him from 
 desthroying thim intirely. Little Mary was a' running away 
 afther the others, but he spied her, an' jist run afther her, an' 
 caught her up by the arm, an' whirled that little thing, that 
 an't nothing but a baby, roun' an' roun', till I thought I'd die 
 with fright meself. Then he laid her down on the floor : I 
 
 O 
 
 wint up til her, an' shure, Miss Katie, I thought she was dead. 
 I carried her up in the garret, for fear her father'd come afther 
 her again, an' laid her on a bed, an' sint Kitty straight for 
 Biddy. It wasn't till she come, an' put her in a warm bath, 
 an' rubbed her little body iver so long, that she opened her 
 blue eyes at all, at all. 
 
 " When the doctor came, he said her shoulther was out of 
 joint, an' she was hurt otherways pretty bad, an' we must 
 watch her close, or maybe she'd niver git over it. The nixt 
 rnornin', whin Teddy woke up, an' come in to see how pale 
 she looked, he axed what was the matter. So Biddy jist up 
 an' tould him the whole story, crying an' lamenting all the 
 time. When she got all through, he jist dropped right down 
 into a chair fornenst the bed, an' begun crying without spak- 
 ing a word. Shure, Miss Katie, an' he's niver dhrank a single 
 dhrap afther that day, an' he sez he niver will ; but I'm afraid 
 he can't kape his word. Och, an' its thrimbling I am ivery 
 day, now the little hinny's so much betther, for fear he'll begin 
 again; an' thin " she shook her head, and the tears ran 
 down her face. 
 
 " Never fear, Kitty," said Kate, in a cheerful tone. " If you 
 think Teddy would go to Maine, I know of those who will 
 help you along so that you may go next week, if you like. I 
 suppose you haven't much here to hinder you." 
 
 Kitty glanced around the meagrely furnished room. " Och, 
 ivery thing we have, house, an' land, an' tables, even till the 
 big feather bed I brought from York, is pledged for rum. But 
 I haven't a bit fear, but if Teddy's oncet away from the crathur, 
 he'll niver see one of us wantin' bread. God bless his sowl,
 
 416 KATE WESTON. 
 
 but he's been like a lovin' mother iver since little Mary was 
 sick ; it was nigh breakin' my heart to think such a father'd 
 iver be like to take to the dhrink again. Faith, Miss Katie " 
 (here she clasped her hands and stretched them out, in her 
 earnestness), " an' I'd be thankful to go away wid jist enough 
 to cover us, an' not a morsel to ate, nor a penny o' money, if 
 I was shure Teddy'd be safe out o' the way of that dhreadful 
 crathur, an' I'd niver have a bit fear for meself or the childher, 
 but he'd take care of us all." 
 
 . " Very well, Kitty, don't have a bit of fear, then. I know 
 a Maine gentleman who can advise you where to go, and if 
 you have Biddy along, you and she can keep your husband 
 sober till you arrive. Tell me, how did you manage while 
 the little one was ill ? for I suppose you had to give up your 
 washing, and Teddy had no work." 
 
 " Teddy stayed an' minded Mary an' the other childher, an' I 
 got more time nor I had in a long while before. An' what 
 wid yerself, an' Mike, an' Biddy, an' the doctor, we was very 
 comfortable. The new doctor's a nice man, but he isn't like 
 Dr. Clarence. An' wasn't it hisself that niver refused to come 
 til me in the darkest night, when any of us were sick, no 
 more'n we were the grandest people in all Laconia, an' would 
 niver take a penny of me since iver he begun. Och, it was 
 a mane shame to say he was afther wanting to mUrdher. 
 Didn't he say hisself that there was niver such a thought in 
 his sowl, an' sure I'd belave him fast as the Blessed Virgin 
 herself." 
 
 Poor Kitty had touched a tender chord roughly in her 
 ignorance, and it vibrated painfully. It was almost too much 
 for Kate. She turned her head to look out at the window, and 
 struggled to regain her self-possession. It was well for her 
 that at that moment the back door opened, and Teddy 
 entered, carrying Mary tenderly in his arms, with the whole 
 troop of children following at his heels, and Michael bring- 
 ing up the rear. 
 
 It was a pitiful sight, that small, pale, crippled girl, scarcely
 
 KATE WESTON. 417 
 
 four years old, sitting so quiet in the little chair, where he 
 carefully placed her. Kate had not expected to see her so 
 much altered, and she was shocked to think that the little 
 creature mast be deformed for life. But if the curse had 
 fallen, a blessing had come with it. Only the deathly hue of 
 that small face as it looked deprecatingly to his, could have 
 had sufficient power to draw the repentant father from his 
 haunts of evil. 
 
 The father did not stay except to thank Kate for her kind- 
 ness to them, and ask his wife to give Mary something to eat. 
 As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Kitty apologized : 
 
 " He feels ashamed like, because he thinks you're -afther 
 axin me about it. Mike's Tiome again, an' it's glad I am, 
 shure. Hisself was one of my greatest comforts in all my 
 throuble. He brought me his wages ivery Saturday, an' I 
 don't know what I could have done widout them, at all, at all." 
 As she concluded, she cast a glance of motherly admiration on 
 the awkward, overgrown boy, who stood laughing and twist- 
 ing his thumbs. 
 
 " I know," said Kate, with one of her sweet smiles, " that 
 Michael is a faithful son, and an honest boy. I always had a 
 high opinion of him, his conduct has been so manly and kind 
 to his mother and the children." 
 
 Mike blushed, and not knowing how else to acknowledge 
 the compliment, shoved off another of his astonishing bows. 
 Kate relieved his evident embarrassment by speaking to the 
 younger children, taking poor little Mary on her lap, and 
 drawing out the story of her sickness. How she did not 
 know at first what it could be ; how she had felt so bad and 
 sick ; how she wasn't afraid of father any more ; how she 
 liked to be sick, so she needn't have to run away and hide, 
 and so ho would carry her in his arms away out into the 
 woods to get flowers, and have Johnny along, and Patrick, 
 and Mag, and Biddy. The little pale face softened into a 
 smile, as she saw Kate's look of interest. Still, the young 
 
 18*
 
 418 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 girl could not not help thinking it very pitiful that that 
 mere baby should be made a cripple, and by a father's 
 hand. 
 
 In less than three weeks the two families, with the help of 
 Mrs. Weston and Mr. Jeremiah, were on their way to Maine, 
 and Kate had the satisfaction afterwards of hearing from time 
 to time, through Rebecca Jones, who had positively refused 
 to leave her, that Teddy was at last thoroughly reformed, and 
 rejoicing very much that he lacked the power of returning to 
 his former evil habits. That the little cripple improved in 
 health so rapidly, that they hoped she might recover alto- 
 gether, except that the deformed shoulder was very weak. 
 That the nice, fat mamma grew nicer and fatter every day, now 
 that all her worry was over. That Mrs. Kitty came to be 
 quite a notable housekeeper again, and at the last accounts 
 had a new rag-carpet on her parlor-floor. That Jake was 
 steady now, and Eben Jones one of the happiest men alive. 
 That Mike hadn't left off turning somersets, and that the 
 whole tribe of Tooles and Joneses, particularly the rosy- 
 cheeked Charlie, the doubtful baby of years gone by, were 
 thriving like a lot of " splindid cabbage roses." 
 
 There were many families in Laconia to whom Kate's 
 ministrations came as dew to the thirsty flower. Widow 
 Brown, worn and wasted almost to the grave, poured into 
 her ears the tale of her sufferings, and felt always stronger 
 after she had listened to her words of sympathy, and joined 
 in her earnest prayer. Yes, with the weary and suffering, 
 the young girl could kneel and pray in a strain that accorded 
 better with their feelings than the petition of their pastor. 
 They knew that her prayer was prompted by love and sym- 
 pathy, the low musical voice floated so earnestly upwards ; 
 the broken voice, the starting tear soothed their anguish, 
 more than eloquence of words, or wealth of charity. 
 
 God bless thee, Kate ! It seems strange that hearts like 
 
 ' O 
 
 thine must suffer. But the purer the diamond, the higher
 
 KATE WESTON. 419 
 
 must be the polish, and God was polishing away the crust of 
 earth to make thee one of th.e fairest jewels in his crown of 
 glory. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 EXTRACT from a letter written by Edward to William 
 
 Steele : 
 
 " The light dawns at last. The trial has been severe, but nothing 
 less could have reclaimed me. As I look back to seasons when I 
 resolved and re-resolved to give up the dangerous society with which 
 I was mingling, and the dangerous habits which I was forming, I can 
 plainly see how it came that all my efforts were of no avail. Trust- 
 ing to my own strength, every renewed resolve, like a foot planted 
 on the quick-sands, slipped away with the first wave of tempta- 
 tion. 
 
 " First, on my coming here, came the bitterest portion of my cup. 
 Ml the life-hopes I had cherished dashed at once and forever. Am- 
 bition struggling with Despair. My family disgraced, my reputation 
 gone for ever, and happiness, holier and deeper than any honor 
 could bestow, irremediably lost. Then came the questioning of a 
 rebellious heart. Why must this be ? Murmurs at a decree so ter- 
 rible ; fierce temptation (I must acknowledge it) to destroy a life 
 divested of every charm. Then I went back in memory to the days 
 of my early religious instruction. I heard my father's clear, full, 
 voice in the prayer he was offering for me. I saw a vision of one 
 sweet face, that I shall never have courage to look upon again, as it 
 has haunted me through these past years of folly. 
 
 " Do you remember, William, that maiden speech of mine. That 
 night I first knew the glory of her character. . Her face was saint-like 
 in its purity as she plead with me to relinquish the habits that have, 
 been my ruin. And I promised her solemnly as we stood together 
 in the moonlight that I would never again give her occasion to fear 
 for me. Oh, what infatuation has separated us by a barrier strong 
 as death? This subject is too painful. I cannot dwell upon it.
 
 420 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 " At last, slowly, and with many struggles I have found the cross. 
 I thought when I came here that pride was humbled. But I see now 
 that pride hindered me from opening my heart to our pious chaplain 
 until his benevolent soul drew me almost imperceptibly into a confes- 
 sion of ray feelings. I have learned at last, that, though all worldly 
 sources of preferment and happiness are closed to one humbled as I 
 have been, a work is still mine to perform, a victory to be won, 
 whose reward shall not be in this life. Had I learned the lesson, as I 
 could have done, years ago, I might have labored, with gentle hands 
 and a heart whose worth I can hardly measure, to strengthen and 
 sustain me. Now, I must toil and suffer alone. Alone ! no, that I 
 could not do. He is my helper who has redeemed me by his blood 
 from everlasting death. My heart swells with gratitude, that even 
 through such an ordeal He has led me to Himself. Yet, the soul that 
 dwells on earth yearns for the love of earth, amid all its aspirations 
 for the love of Heaven. 
 
 " God bless you all, and grant in mercy that I may be the only great 
 sufferer for my sins. In a week I shall be free. You and father must 
 come on to see me. I cannot return to Laconia, I have not courage. 
 
 " It's of no use father," said Edward, as they sat together in 
 Mr. Pufton's parlor, two or three days after his release. 
 " There are too many reasons why I should not return. I do 
 not wish to be continually casting the stigma of my disgrace 
 over my family. My power to do good would be there 
 extremely limited after what has occurred. I should natu- 
 rally be continually reminded of my sin by the conduct of 
 Reid and his clique of associates. But more than all, I 
 could not meet Kate Weston, feeling that I had ruined her 
 happiness, and that she could never love me more." 
 
 The red bandanna fluttered nervously, and the great, sono- 
 rous voice trembled. "Edward, my son, you are mistaken, 
 not one of us but longs to have you back ; and Kate I do 
 not believe your sin and suffering have made any difference in 
 her feelino-s." 
 
 O 
 
 " But you do not imagine for a moment, that I would offer 
 her to share my name and position, father !"
 
 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 " Pooh-pooh, ray boy ; she would not share it when it was 
 likely to place her among the first circles in the country. 
 You know her reasons, and how little weight the considera- 
 tion of your outward condition had then ; why should it not 
 have just as little now ?" 
 
 Edward paused a moment, and shook his head. " No, 
 father, it cannot be. Her generous nature might lead her to 
 make such a sacrifice for my sake, but I do not ask it. I 
 shall carry out my original intention of going to visit Wil- 
 liam Benson, for I have important information connected with 
 his history to impart to him. After that, I shall return to 
 New York, and then, I think, leave for California. I am sure 
 if you set aside, as I have done, all prejudice upon the subject, 
 your judgment will approve my plan." 
 
 " What's that, my boy ?" exclaimed Mr. Pufton, who had 
 just entered, " California, sir ? what do you mean, sir ? 111 
 never consent to it, never, sir all stuff ; that nonsense about 
 Kate, sir. She's got the truest heart that ever beat, sir ; and 
 if you don't go right down on your knees, sir, and beg her 
 pardon for doubting it, sir, you don't deserve her, sir !" He 
 folded his hands behind him, and strutted indignantly about 
 the room. 
 
 " I would not take advantage of it," said Edward, sadly, 
 " to wed her to a life like mine." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks, sir, I beg pardon, sir, but you put me out 
 of patience, sir. She'll never be happy any other way, sir. 
 Go on your northern tour if you like, sir, but when you come 
 back, sir" The round gentleman bobbed his head and 
 winked his eyes by way of explanation, and Mr. Jeremiah's 
 handkerchief gave a little hopeful wave on the strength of 
 his faith in Mr. Pufton's power. 
 
 Alice had been paying Kate a visit of some length, and on 
 her return would listen to no reasons why her darling should 
 not accompany her. After much persuasion, in which she 
 had coaxed Mrs. Weston's co-operation, she succeeded in car- 
 rying off her friend in triumph, and her tongue rattled with
 
 422 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 satisfaction all the way from Laconia to New York. Her 
 husband was half-jealous, for she persisted in making twice as 
 much of Kate's compliance with her wishes as she did of 
 meeting him after their separation. 
 
 It had been Kate's intention to return previous to the day 
 of Edward's release. There was a greater self-control requi- 
 site than she felt herself capable of exercising in meeting 
 him, or even spending the day of his liberation away from 
 the only being that thoroughly sympathized in her feelings. 
 But a sudden and dangerous change having occurred in the 
 character of Clarence's illness, she had waived, with her usual 
 self-denial, all personal feeling, and consented to remain with 
 Mrs. Ainslie for a few days longer. 
 
 The excessively nervous temperament of Alice prevented 
 her from being an appropriate companion in her mother's 
 arduous duties at the sick-bed of her brother. There was a 
 subtle magnetism of spirit, too, between Mrs. Ainslie and the 
 daughter of her early schoolmate, experienced only by those 
 who have suffered and found consolation from the common 
 fountain of a Savior's love. It was for this that the weary 
 mother appealed so earnestly for Kate's presence and sym- 
 pathy in this crowning hour of her trial. 
 
 For two or three weeks Clarence had been confined to his 
 bed. The convulsions, which, previous .to that, had been 
 unusually violent, had ceased altogether, leaving him weak 
 and helpless as a child. His craving for the stimulants that 
 before had seemed almost necessary to his existence, was gone, 
 and he would lie for hours in an apparent stupor. 
 
 More than ever that mother's heart yearned above her 
 child. As she watched for hours beside him during the inter- 
 val of dreadful calmness that preceded his death, her soul 
 was wrestling constantly in prayer. And when, for a time, 
 the invalid appeared able to listen to her, she spoke gently to 
 him of Jesus, or read the story of some portion of His suffer- 
 ings Who " hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows." 
 
 How her heart leaped one day, after he had been lying for
 
 KATE WESTON. 423 
 
 an hour, motionless as a statue, to catch a glimpse of the 
 workings of the soul beating under that lifeless exterior. 
 
 "Mother," he said softly, without moving. 
 
 " Well, my son ?" she bent to listen. 
 
 " Shall morning ever break for me ?" 
 
 " There is light, Clarence, if you will only look at it" 
 
 He extended his hands with a sigh as though groping for 
 it. "I cannot see it. The night is very dark, just now." 
 
 Mrs. Ainslie looked into his face with some alarm. "Why, 
 my child, are you worse ?" 
 
 " Only thinking, mother, how you have been so patient 
 with me, all these long years of darkness, and how I might 
 have found light long ago, if I had listened to you. That 
 makes it darker now." 
 
 " The darkest night is just before the morning," whispered 
 the mother. 
 
 He shook his head sorrowfully. "My sin has been so 
 great; against you, mother, and God, and all I love. I believe 
 I have almost worn you out. My gentle mother !" He put 
 his hands on her thin face, and burst into tears. 
 
 She kissed him tenderly, and calming her own feelings, 
 said gently, " Clarence, be quiet, and I will tell you how you 
 may make me glad that you have suffered, and made me 
 suffer." 
 
 " How, mother ?" 
 
 " By letting your suffering bring you to Jesus." 
 
 " That is what I have been thinking over during all this 
 last illness, but I can't, mother. I cannot" 
 
 " Why, my son I" 
 
 " I have rejected him so long, that he does not hear me 
 now. I have been so violent and wicked, that I am in des- 
 pair. Once there seemed a glimmer of light s but all is dark 
 again now." 
 
 " Whosoever cometh unto me, [ will in no wise cast out," 
 whispered his mother, with a strange feeling thrilling at her 
 heart.
 
 424 KATE WESTON. . 
 
 " But I cannot" come, Mother ! Oh, if I could come !" 
 He was becoming too much excited. Long experience had 
 taught her the danger of the least mental over-exertion, and 
 she had learned to be very calm under the greatest press of 
 feeling. So she said soothingly, " There, Clarence, you must 
 lie still now, for a while, and I will sing to you. Let me 
 raise your head a little." She adjusted his pillows, and sat 
 down close beside him. 
 
 Mi-s. Ainslie's voice was peculiarly swee.t. To Clarence, in 
 his most violent moments, there had always been a soothing 
 influence in its soft music that nothing else could supply. 
 She was singing now the hymn, 
 
 " Come ye sinners poor and needy, 
 Come in mercy's gracious hour ; 
 Jesus ready stands to save you, 
 Full of pity, love, and power. 
 He is willing He is willing 
 He is able Doubt no more." 
 
 An eager look on the pale face of the invalid showed that 
 he drank in the meaning of her words. He closed his sight- 
 less eyes, that had never lost their beauty, and opened them 
 again earnestly, as though looking for the light. 
 
 She sang again, 
 
 " Come ye weary heavy-laden, 
 Bruised and wounded by the fall, 
 Mercy's touch alone can heal you, 
 Jesus bled and died for all. 
 Not the righteous Not the righteous, 
 Sinners Jesus came to call." 
 
 
 When she had finished the hymn, she went up to him 
 
 again. He lay .quiet, with his eyes closed, as though asleep. 
 Kate entered the room, and Mrs. Ainslie motioned her to 
 watch a little while beside the invalid, then went to her own 
 room, and knelt where she had so often knelt, to pour her 
 soul in prayer.
 
 KATE WESTON. 425 
 
 While she bowed there, praying for light to beam at last 
 upon the darkened vision of her child, he lay, listening to the 
 Spirit that struggled with his soul. Going backwards over 
 his years of violence and pain to the days when he knelt at 
 his mother's side, and spoke his evening prayer ; when her 
 loving eyes beamed upon him as she told some simple story, 
 or read some childish lesson. Then he wondered if her soft 
 eyes had altered any during the period of suffering he had 
 brought upon her ; then came back with tenfold force the 
 terrible self-reproach. " How have I wounded her with my 
 passion, and how much more with my scorn for the lessons 
 of meekness and holiness she has patiently read from the 
 Holy Bible ! And now the days of my struggles are ending ; 
 when I might have found the light, I turned to the darkness 
 of my sinful heart, and now the shadows of life are changing 
 for darker shadows, and there is no light." 
 
 Softly softly softly the tones of his mother's voice still 
 echo in his ear. 
 
 ' Not the righteous not the righteous ; 
 Sinners Jesus came to call." 
 
 Faint as the earliest ray of morning twilight, a gleam of 
 light steals to his spirit. The first prayer flutters like a timid 
 bird from his heart. "Jesus save me, give me light light 
 light !" 
 
 When his mother returned, his lips were moving, and a 
 smile played about his face that thrilled her with joy. A few 
 minutes, and he spoke. 
 
 " Mother !" 
 
 " What, my son ?" 
 
 " I thought you were there. Will you come to me ?" 
 
 She went to him and took his hand. " Mother, I believe 
 I am beginning to see." He raised his head a little, with 
 a look half hope, half doubt as thought the light flickered 
 before him."
 
 420 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 "Bless God! my child," the mother cried in a burst of 
 feeling, " the morning is breaking at last at last." 
 
 That night, soon after Judge Ainslie had left the sick 
 chamber, he was wakened from his first slumber by his wife. 
 He followed her to the bedside of Clarence. There was no 
 word spoken, but the father a^nd mother looked in the face of 
 their son, then into each other's eyes, each reading the an- 
 swer to their own fears. 
 
 " Clarence," said his father. 
 
 The invalid turned his face towards him. " Yes, father, it 
 is growing clearer ; where is Edward ? I'll show him " 
 
 " Show him what ?" his father whispered. 
 
 "The light yonder; he hasn't found it?" A look of 
 inquiry rested upon his face. 
 
 " I don't know, my boy. Have you found it ?" 
 
 " Yes yes how bright it grows ! Go and tell mother." 
 A look of radiant joy glowed for a moment upon his face, 
 and he stretched out his hand. " Where's Edward ? Isn't 
 he here ? Quick, or he'll be too late." He sank back 
 exhausted uppn his pillow, but the radiance lingered on his 
 face. 
 
 Judge Ainslie hurried from the room, dispatched a servant 
 for the family physician, and went himself to Mr. Pufton's 
 house. Only that day Edward had been released, and had 
 intended visiting Clarence on the morrow. 
 
 " Mother," Clarence said, a few minutes after his father had 
 gone. 
 
 Mrs. Ainslie had gone for Kate, but the mother's ear caught 
 his murmur. She hurried to his side. 
 
 " Don't go, mother. I have been wayward and cruel ; you 
 have been very patient. Watch with me a little longer, 
 mother not long now." 
 
 The mother crowded back her tears, and laid her hand on 
 his forehead. " Are you happy, Clarence ?" 
 
 " Yes happy now."
 
 KATE WESTON. 427 
 
 " What makes you happy ?" She stooped eagerly for his 
 answer. 
 
 The dying youth smiled. 
 
 " Not the righteous 
 Sinners Jesus came to call." 
 
 " Sing again, mother that will you -just once more 
 and then I must go. But where is Edward ? There's the 
 light." He pointed up with one hand " Edward." 
 
 "Edward is not here, my son," the mother tried to say 
 calmly, but her voice quivered. " Your father has gone for 
 him." 
 
 " If I'm not here when he comes, tell him there, mother, 
 there !" He started forward eagerly, and pointed up again. 
 
 " Quiet, Clarence there yes I will tell him." 
 
 He seemed satisfied with her answer, and sank back, mur- 
 muring, "Sing that again." 
 
 Kate entered at that moment. The mother could not sing. 
 " Kate, will you sing ' Come ye sinners ?' " she said. 
 
 The young girl stole in behind the curtains at the back of 
 the bed, and commenced singing. He lay very quiet until 
 she was through, his mother watching every motion of his 
 face. 
 
 "Thank you, Kate," he said, when she was still again. 
 " You have been very kind to me. Tell Alice about the 
 light. You know. You never had a night nor mother 
 except mine." 
 
 " But the day is breaking, now, Clarence, for you" said 
 Kate. 
 
 " Yes, the night has been very long very dark, but the 
 morning is it is at hand." 
 
 In a few minutes the doctor was there. He shook his head 
 as he looked at the strange radiance of that pale, quiet face. 
 " Nothing nothing," he whispered, in answer to the mother's 
 earnest glance. He saw by her look that she was ready for 
 his answer.
 
 428 KATE WESTON. 
 
 '" Clarence, how do you feel ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oli, doctor, I am going. Good-bye Kate good-bye. 
 Mother where are you ? Kiss ine I am going. Wait ! 
 where is Edward and father and " he started again. 
 
 " Keep still, Clarence, for a few minutes, and you shall see 
 them," said the doctor, in a low, firm voice, laying his hand 
 soothingly upon those of the invalid. 
 
 Mrs. Ainslie and Kate both understood him. Kate drew 
 quietly within the shadow of the curtains, and Mrs. Ainslie 
 passed her fingers gently over the damp forehead. He lay 
 still, and seemed to sleep. Mrs. Ainslie looked a little 
 alarmed, but an imperative gesture from the physician kept 
 her quiet. 
 
 A few minutes more, and the father came in with Edward 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Pufton. His sister lived so far away that 
 she was not yet with them. The physician whispered to him : 
 " Do not call the children, unless he asks for them. He will 
 be better quiet. Too much excitement will make his mind 
 wander." 
 
 " Is that Edward?" said Clarence, stirring again. 
 
 " Yes, I am here, Clarence," said Edward, softly. * 
 
 Kate's heart thrilled at the sound of that voice, but it was 
 no time to think of self, nor to allow him any intimation of 
 her presence. She shrank further behind the folds of the 
 muslin curtains, and Clarence said in a tone of relief: 
 
 " They told me you would come to-day, but I was afraid 
 you would be too late. I want to tell you " 
 
 " What, Clarence ? my dear Clarence." The young man 
 bent yearningly over the pale,' eager face, and the tears stood 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Have you found the light?" the blind eyes turned almost 
 wildly towards him. 
 
 " Which light ?" he asked. 
 
 " There !" He pointed up again. " Jesus the Savior 
 mine yours. ' Not the righteous Sinners Jesus ' Yon- 
 der, see! The sunlight coming at last!" His head sank
 
 "There! 11 He pointed up again. ''Jesus the Saviour mine yours. Not the 
 righteous Sinners Jesus 1 Yonder, seel The sunlight coming at last P' P. 428.
 
 KATE WESTON. 429 
 
 upon the pillow. The physician stepped forward. " Quiet, 
 Clarence," he said softly, " or I'll have to send them all 
 away." 
 
 " No, I am going now," Clarence whispered, with a smile. 
 " Say, Edward the light, find it." 
 
 Edward's voice trembled. " I have found it, Clarence." 
 
 An expression of ineffable beauty passed over the blind 
 "boy's face. " Pray then, Edward pray. Here, mother, hold 
 my head once more. Oh, father, mother, -precious mother, 
 morning is breaking, at the cross ; tell them all. Wait, 
 Ellie, Carlisle, Alice, Mr. Pufton, little Ned, where are they ? 
 Aunt Sophie." 
 
 They came with tearful eyes, and kissed him without 
 speaking. Dr. Currer said, " There, Clarence, Alice is not 
 here, and the children, we will tell them for you, lie still, and 
 Edward will pray " 
 
 "Yes, tell her the night has been so long to me, but day is 
 coming now, pray Edward." 
 
 Edward knelt beside him, and the others stood around the 
 bed. Judge Ainslie, with his stately figure bowed; Aunt 
 Sophie, with her hand pressed over her eyes ; Mr. Pufton, 
 quivering with suppressed feeling, and the physician, gravely 
 watching the strange glory of "the paling face, as the accents 
 of that prayer floated through the silent room. And Kate, 
 sinking on her knees behind the sheltering curtains, strove 
 to join in the prayer with no other thought than of the 
 dying, and the glory he was entering. But Avith the solemn 
 sympathy accorded to others, there rushed through her own 
 being a tide of joy and hope that swept away the doubts and 
 griefs of years. 
 
 Light was dawning ; light to the living, passing from the 
 night of sin to the morning of salvation ; light to the 
 dying, passing from the night of time to the morning of 
 eternity. 
 
 The tones of the pleader's voice grew deep and strong ; 
 swelling upward from the holy room to the holier heaven
 
 430 KATE WESTON. 
 
 opening to the blind boy's vision ; so powerful was the mel- 
 lowed voice, in its trembling earnestness, that the parting spirit 
 might have floated upward on the pinions of that prayer. 
 
 The mother saw the radiance of the face brighten until a 
 look of holy triumph settled on the stiffening features. She 
 felt the head she held upon her breast grow heavy. She 
 heard the breath come fainter, but she sat there quietly, 
 yielding up the soul for which she had wrestled through the 
 long night of his earthly sin and suffering, into the hands of 
 a pitying Savior. 
 
 When Edward ceased, they gathered closer round the bed. 
 The father stooped to listen, and drew back with a strange 
 look upon his face. 
 
 The mother's prayers were heard ! the morning had 
 broken. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 NIGHT again in the saloon. The guests had departed,' and 
 the proprietor was sitting in his large arm-chair, with his feet 
 stretched out upon one of the marble tables. Two or three 
 of the lights in the little chandelier were still burning, and 
 the profusion of bottles, dishes, and glasses lying about the 
 counter and tables, spoke of an excellent day's profit. 
 
 But Mr. Gamp seemed totally indifferent to everything 
 except some profound thoughts, which were anything but 
 pleasant, judging from the frown that contracted his brow. 
 The front door and windows were closed, but the back door 
 AS as far enough ajar to let in the cool air; he sat with his 
 back towards it, so that he did not notice it slowly open, and 
 the figure of a woman standing there did not hinder the vexa- 
 tion that at last broke forth in words. 
 
 " What does this mean now ? Out of prison, and away up
 
 RATE WESTON. 4<5l 
 
 there with Bill. If I could the Avhole lot of them I 
 
 wouldn't say it, but do it. Much good it's done, the business I 
 helped along so smoothly. Given me nine months' swing, 
 and now I'm as bothered as ever. One thing's plain, I'll 
 have to clear out from here as soon as possible. That infer- 
 nal land speculation that I chuckled over'll have to slip, and 
 five thousand with it, or I'll have to trust to luck and my 
 patron-saint, ha ha to help me out of any scrape I might 
 happen to get into. Believe I'll try the last. My saint doesn't 
 need much praying to either. Goes on the principle, ' You 
 tickle me, I'll tickle you !' All fair and square, old fellow, but 
 I ain't satisfied with this caper, anyhow. 
 
 " Cleared the gallows, eh ? Wish he'd tumble over the 
 falls, and Bill with him." He clenched his fist as he uttered 
 the concluding oath ; but a moment after started, as a soft 
 hand fell upon his shoulder. 
 
 A woman with a face stamped with the lowest kind of dis- 
 sipation stood eying him steadily. " Good wishes to your 
 friends, certainly," she said, in a low scornful tone. " One 
 would think your nephew would command different feel- 
 ings." 
 
 With another oath he exclaimed fiercely, " What are you 
 here after ? and how dare you steal in, in that way ? do you 
 know I could have you arrested on suspicion of burglary ?" 
 
 She answered with a mocking laugh, " I didn't come to be 
 arrested ; vait awhile, and I'll tell you what I came for." 
 
 "Strange time and way for a lady to enter, anyhow," 
 sneered Gamp, " not much to your credit ; but what's come 
 over you ; you're mighty calm, and what are you here for, 
 now your girl's off?" 
 
 " I did not come for credit ; there'd be none of that in 
 visiting you. Shame is dead within me, and hope and joy ; 
 but revenge remains, and I have come for that." 
 
 He drew his black eyebrows down, and glared upon her 
 from under them. "Do you suppose I haven't found out
 
 432 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 what you've been up to? Don't I know how you've been 
 ferreting out everything I ever did, and sending out the infor- 
 mation, fast as you caught it, to that Clarence ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know you've found it out ; I know you managed to 
 get him to prison for it too ; much good's it done you." 
 
 " Well, suppose I'd got him to the gallows ; that's what I 
 tried to do, my gentle charmer. Who'd ha' been the wiser ? 
 But come, it's getting late, and I'm sleepy ; tell me what you 
 are here after ?" 
 
 She laughed again. He uttered an imprecation. " you, 
 
 how queer you act ; sober and calm declare I believe it's 
 another phase of your madness." He looked with a sort of 
 wonder at her as she stood there with that smile of irony on. 
 her wild face. 
 
 " I've kept sober for a whole week, that I might accomplish 
 my purpose. You killed my husband," she said, in a low, 
 hoarse voice, fixing her eyes upon his face. " Higgius tried, 
 at your instigation, to poison him, but failed." 
 
 " Well," he said, in a tone of scorn, " and you have eaten 
 all the fruits without giving me a taste, or Higgins either, 
 except " 
 
 " And you did more," she continued, without paying any 
 attention to his interruption, "you tried before he died to 
 render him incapable of protecting his wife from the insidious 
 advances of a man, who, though respected of the world, was 
 as much a villain as yourself." 
 
 " Get me in the asylum, won't you ?" said Gamp, cocking 
 his head to one side. She did not notice him, but Avent on as 
 though he had not spoken. " And more, you killed a sea- 
 captain, and escaped from the hold of his vessel. You would 
 have killed W T illiam Benson if you had dared, for he married 
 the girl you wanted, and the five thousand dollars that you 
 coveted ; say, where is that five thousand dollars now ? He 
 and his wife are both dead, and you had charge of the orphan 
 boy a pretty charge you made of it, too. Just tell me, will
 
 KATE WESTON. 433 
 
 you, where is the money ?" She paused, with a gleam of irony 
 shooting from her eyes. 
 
 Gamp scowled at her ; a terrible scowl that made her recoil 
 a step, and draw a pistol from her bosom. " Ha," she laughed, 
 " do you think I am a fool to come to you with such facts as 
 these, and unprotected. Life is anything but agreeable, but I 
 care for no further favors from your hands." 
 
 " I suppose you are ready to swear to all this, soon as 
 Clarence is back from Canada," said Gamp, with an oath ; 
 " but you'll have to find your proofs first, I'm thinking." 
 
 She stepped to the door. He watched her with a fiendish 
 sneer, half hate, half wonder upon his face. The sneer gave 
 way to a sudden frown of defiance as a man followed her into 
 the room. For one moment Gamp looked at him, as though 
 trying to recognize him. The next, he started from his chair 
 glowering fiercely upon the intruder. 
 
 " Fine way to welcome an old ship-mate, Murphy," 
 exclaimed the man. " I only stepped out on this woman's 
 invitation to make sure it was you. By George, if we didn't 
 all think that the devil had run away with you that time you 
 got away from the ship ; the old tars told it for years after 
 for one of their best yarns." 
 
 " What are you here for 1" growled Gamp, from between 
 his set teeth. 
 
 " To see you," said the other. " Carl Shroeck doesn't so 
 easy forget old friends. But, to Mil the truth, though I don't 
 profess to be very good, I came to see if I couldn't see poor 
 Bill Benson's boy righted. Though you got in with him 
 before he died, he gave me a heap of his papers, and the boy's 
 got 'em now. I'd have done something with 'em long ago. 
 only I didn*t know how." 
 
 Gamp gnashed his teeth. " And how soon may I expect 
 to be honored with another visit ?" 
 
 "Soon as he comes on. Have to settle up your affairs 
 pretty soon, old boy. Don't think you'll stay in Laconia 
 18
 
 434 KATE WESTON. 
 
 much longer ;" the man tipped his hat on the back of his 
 head, and looked about with an air of easy nonchalance. 
 
 Gamp clenched his fist, and his face grew purple with rage ; 
 he would have rushed upon them both, but the woman raised 
 her. pistol. " I defy you !" he hissed. " If the devil did help 
 me once, he can again. Do your worst." He seated himself 
 doggedly, and his visitors, without further ceremony, walked 
 out as they came. 
 
 He sat for half an hour, then rose, locked the place care- 
 fully, gathered a few articles from his desk, deposited them 
 in his pocket, took a heavy walking stick from a corner, and 
 went out at the front door. 
 
 The maid of all work looked deprecatingly at her master, 
 as she caught the expression of his face that night. He 
 passed her with scarcely a glance, merely asking if Dick was 
 abed yet. Upon being answered in the affirmative, he passed 
 up stairs, directly to the young man's chamber. 
 
 " Dick, Dick," he called, as he opened .the door. The only 
 answer was a sort of sleepy grunt. He entered the room. 
 " Dick, Dick," he called again, shaking the sleeper's shoulder, 
 " I want to see you directly, get up, will you ? How hard he 
 is to wake !" 
 
 Having at last succeeded in fairly rousing the boy, he 
 ordered him to dress, and come down stairs directly, then 
 turned away, and called the trembling girl as she was stealing 
 up to bed, to escape the g*entle reproofs he was in the habit 
 of administering when things had occurred to ruffle his 
 serenity. 
 
 By the time the sleepy clerk had dressed and descended 
 to the sitting-room, Gamp had made up a small package, 
 abstracted from two or three locked trunks in his own apart- 
 ments. A heterogeneous mass, too, it would have seemed to 
 an unitiated observer, as he gathered them together. 
 
 A small roll of dirty papers, a revolver, a bushy wig of red 
 hair, a tarpaulin jacket and cap, were packed tightly in a
 
 KATE WESTON. 435 
 
 small portmanteau, which he locked, placing the key in a side 
 pocket along with a great wallet, and buttoning it in with 
 two or three buttons, so that, by no possibility, it could be 
 lost. 
 
 He made no preface to his remarks when he returned to 
 the clerk and servant awaiting his return. "I'm going on a 
 journey South to-morrow, as far as New Orleans. Expect to 
 
 be gone a month. But I don't want a confounded in 
 
 Laconia to know I'm away. Dick and Elspeth you know 
 me. If I'm odd in my way sometimes, you never knew me 
 say a thing I didn't do did you ?" 
 
 The boy, awake at last, mumbled wonderingly, "No, sir, 
 no," and the girl shook her head. 
 
 " Well, I've got just this to say to you. Do as I tell you 
 for a month, and I'll give each of you a hundred dollars 
 down. Let the cat out of the bag, and I'll follow you with" 
 a black scowl finished the sentence. "You see," he con- 
 tinued, " there's a good deal to save or lose by this journey, 
 but I don't choose to let people know I'm taking it. You two 
 are to stay here just as you always have. Dick goes to the 
 saloon in the morning, gives out I'm sick bilious fever, say, 
 and if anybody comes here but Dr. Higgins, I can't be seen. 
 Keep the doors locked, and you've both got the cunning to 
 walk straight enough for a month to keep my absence secret. 
 When the doctor comes let him in ; he's the only one to 
 understand. Do you hear ?" 
 
 Both listeners assented with inward surprise to the propo- 
 sition, and Gamp dispatched them to bed, telling them that 
 he should be off in the morning before they were up, and 
 casting a keen glance of inquiry upon each as they passed up 
 stairs. He seemed perfectly satisfied with his scrutiny, for in 
 five minutes after they were gone, he slipped out "at the back 
 door with his portmanteau, muttering, " They are well settled, 
 now for Dr. Higgins then all to luck and the ." 
 
 He found Dr. Higgins up, although it was nearly two o'clock 
 in the morning when he knocked at his office door. When
 
 436 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the doctor opened it, a man with his face completely con- 
 cealed by a muffler, peeped into the room, then, with a mut- 
 tered, " Higgins, what are you up at this time o' night for ?" 
 walked in. 
 
 " Have they been to your place to-night ?" asked the doc- 
 tor, when he had closed the door. 
 
 " Yes. blast them, that hag's got more in her than I gave 
 her credit for ; they've been here, eh ?" 
 
 " They were here three or four hours ago. I had no busi- 
 ness with the man, but, Gamp, I wish I'd begged my bread 
 before I attempted to drug Morris, ugh !" The lank figure 
 shivered as he spoke. " Swearing you off, too, with that 
 testimony of mine that I thought he killed himself. I don't 
 believe anybody thought so, then. I wouldn't have done it 
 but for you and Dunn." 
 
 " Pooh, Higgins, what's done's done, and no help for it ; 
 you sold your soul for money, what most of us do, I suppose ; 
 to be sure, you took a little more coaxing, but it's the same in 
 the end. You've done penance for it ever since with that 
 long face, but it hasn-'t cured you of 'the root of all evil' 
 yet. Better give all your money to the -poor, Higgins, it 
 might ease your soul, eh ?" 
 
 " That woman's visit's upset me," said Higgins, with a con- 
 traction of his haggard face, and an accent of lugubrious 
 despair. " Believe I'd do anything " 
 
 Gamp interrupted him with a low, mocking laugh. "No 
 matter now what you would do, you must do as I tell you, and 
 you know it. Business is business, and this business mustn't 
 be delayed. I came for your horse, Higgins. They've told me 
 something that'll take me off directly. But it's to be kept a 
 secret. Dick's to keep store, Elspeth's to keep house, I'm to 
 be very sick, and you're to visit me every day, and keep a 
 look out on them. I'll leave all my affairs in your hands to 
 settle for me, and you'll make a good round sum for your 
 professional services if things go straight, and I get anything 
 like all that belongs to me." 
 
 " Where are you going ?" asked the doctor ; " I don't under- 
 stand." 
 
 " I don't want you to," was the ungracious answer. " All 
 I've got to ask is that you'll keep mum, whatever you may 
 hear. I am dangerously ill for a month, and if that's blown 
 up, I've gone on sudden business to New Orleans. You settle 
 up all my affairs, and I'll manage so as to let you know how
 
 KATE WESTON. 437 
 
 to send the money, to me. Sell everything but the saloon; 
 that might excite suspicion. You understand and agree ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, hesitating, " but am I never to get 
 out of this tangle. I thought I'd run off to some foreign 
 country to get clear of my sickness and that woman's haunt- 
 ing face." 
 
 " Ha, ha, I'm ahead of you ; just what I'm going to do my- 
 self, but I'll keep about if I can till I get the fifteen or twenty 
 thousand dollars I got here, and then I'm off. If you do 
 well by it, that is, the. best you can, for you must ' hurry up 
 the cakes* you'll have two or three thousand to add to 
 yours, and get off before the chills come on next spring. 
 You know me, that's always been my policy, pound wise and 
 penny foolish. But come, I can't be torn-fooling with you 
 here. I want your horse, how much do you want for it, two- 
 fifty ?" he pulled out his pocket-book. The doctor's dull eyes 
 brightened. He had paid just half that sum for his horse 
 three months before. 
 
 In half an hour the bargain had been made, the $250 
 paid out of Gamp's capacious wallet, the horse taken stealthily 
 from the stable, saddled and bridled, and Gamp mounted oji 
 its hack, with his portmanteau girded behind him, was mak- 
 ing his way swiftly and silently through the darkness. As he 
 gathered up the reins, . he stooped towards Higgins, and the 
 gleam of his eye struck like cold steel to his companion's 
 heart. " Now then, secrecy or death !" and as the horse's 
 hoofs sounded on the road he muttered again, " All now to 
 luck and the ." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 KATE WESTON was sitting down close by the leaping 
 waterfall below her bower. Her work lay upon her lap v 
 with her hand buried in the folds, as though she had dropped 
 it carelessly. She was watching the sunlight sparkling in the 
 diamond spray as it came tumbling over the rocks almost to 
 her feet. Now and then, two or three drops splashed over 
 on her face or dress. But she did not heed them ; her
 
 438 KATE WESTON. 
 
 thoughts were wandering away from the bright waterfall and 
 sunshine. A pure light was in her eye, and a slight flush 
 upon her cheek. 
 
 " Katie, what are you thinking of?" 'said Mary Steele, 
 softly, touching her lips to her cheek. " It seems almost 
 sacrilege to disturb so sweet a reverie ; but I have come on a 
 special errand, Kate." There was a sadness in her tone that 
 her companion interpreted ; for she returned her kiss with- 
 out answering her. 
 
 " I have written my letter," continued Mary, " and used 
 every plea I could think of, and father has Avritten too, but 
 
 if you" She hesitated. Kate looked up, and the flush 
 
 deepened on her cheek ; still she did not speak. 
 
 Mary began again. " I may as well say it at once, Kate, 
 and you must forgive me if I wound your feelings; but," 
 with a little burst of tears, " Edward is so dear to us that we 
 cannot let him leave us without here Kate, read my letter, 
 it's a long one, but a word from you will be more than all. 
 If you cannot say it, I must be content. I'm going up to 
 see your mother while you read it." 
 
 Kate took the letter without looking up, and the instant' 
 Mary was gone, gave vent to a gush of tears. " Too dear 
 indeed ; Oh, Edward !" The letter was written in a strain of 
 the most earnest entreaty, begging him to return to Laconia, 
 and adducing every possible argument to induce him to do 
 so. Among other items that startled Kate, was the intelli- 
 gence that Dr. Higgins had been seized with a fit of paralysis 
 on that very morning, from which" it appeared impossible 
 that he should recover. 
 
 Worn down at last in body and soul, he had sunk beneath 
 the accumulation of remorse and suffering. As we shall not 
 again revert to his career, we may state that the poor man 
 lingers still in a state of imbecility, while his mind wanders 
 always to the past, and conscience harrows his soul through 
 unoccupied days and sleepless nights. 
 
 When Kate had finished, she let the letter fall, as she had 
 done her work before, and looked off to the waterfall again. 
 It was a delicate matter to decide. The world's praise or 
 blame was little to her; but would Edward come to her now, 
 with the same trust that he once reposed in her affection ; 
 had not absence and her conduct towards him changed the 
 current of his feelings ? She could not write as her heart 
 dictated without the risk of sacrificing all her woman's pride.
 
 KATE WESTON. 439 
 
 That rose strong within her then. She could not stoop to 
 urge his coming back to her, and be disappointed. Yet it 
 was not what men call pride that struggled in her bosom. 
 It was mixed with holier emotions ; the fear of giving 
 Edward pain by a request with which his own pride and 
 manly feeling would not allow him to comply ; of subjecting 
 him to a series of annoyances most trying to him by induc- 
 ing him. to return to the scene of his sufferings. . 
 
 This last had almost decided her, when the words of his 
 prayer came fresh to her memory, words uttered by the bed- 
 side of the dying, " Lord help us to care nothing for the vain 
 opinions of men, to look to Thee for all things, and to make 
 thy truth all in all to our hearts, that the faint light Thou hast 
 given to guide us here may increase more and more unto the 
 perfect day." After some minutes she rose and returned to 
 the house. Going quietly up to her room, she opened her 
 writing-desk, and simply wrote the words, " Edward come, I 
 must see you. KATE." 
 
 When the letter was handed to Edward, he was sitting by 
 a table in William Benson's pleasant little sitting-room. 
 Father Benson himself ambled into the room in his long 
 skirts, and, without noticing his grandson and Maggie, who 
 sat reading from the same book, he made directly for Edward, 
 and, after the preliminary three knocks of the cane and 
 shakes of the head, he held out the precious missive with one 
 of the cheeriest smiles in the world. " My boy," he exclaimed, 
 " you'll never learn to exercise the grace of patience. Here 
 your letter comes the very first time you wish for it, while I 
 must wait Oh, ever so many threes for mine. But then I 
 got it at last, and my boy too, and a new daughter into the 
 bargain." He put his cane upon the table, glanced lovingly 
 towards his grandchildren, and clapped his hands ecstatically. 
 Then, as through suddenly recollecting something, up he 
 quavered to William, " My son, did you remember to water 
 the grape-vine to-night ?" 
 
 " Yes, father," the young man answered, " I watered it 
 enough to satisfy you, for Maggie was at my elbow, and you 
 know she's for drenching everything more than you are." 
 
 "Yes, my dear," the old gentleman exclaimed, looking 
 delightedly at Maggie, " you'll make a better gardener than 
 Will ; he used to be tolerable when he was a boy, before he 
 went to sea, you know, but all his new machinery has turned 
 his head. I always thought," he continued, with a rub of
 
 440 KATE WESTON. 
 
 the hands, " he would do something at that some day. I can 
 tell you that little steam-engine the nimsellers carried off 
 was a model. I've no doubt," he accompanied each of 
 the last three words with a decisive thump on Maggie's shoul- 
 der, " he'll make one of the first engineers in this country 
 in three years, you know everything goes by threes." 
 
 " If we hadn't you here to work our garden, half the plea- 
 sure of our pretty cottage home would be spoiled," said Mag- 
 gie, with a pleasant smile, "for I am sure William would never 
 do it." 
 
 He looked more delighted than ever. " I can make a 
 first-rate garden now, or write a first-rate sermon. To 
 tell the truth, I like it too, Maggie. I don't think," he 
 added confidentially, "that between my boy's return, and 
 the garden, and my colportage of Tracts and Bibles, there's 
 a happier old man within a hundred miles than Father Ben- 
 son." 
 
 " Or a happier young man than his son," said William, 
 casting a glance of mingled love and pride from his fine eyes 
 upon Maggie, then turning them in real affection upon the 
 amiable old gentleman. The young people made a point of 
 always humoring him in his peculiar fancies, and the old man 
 who had trudged about through so many lonely years with 
 his " Standard Library," cheerful and. hopeful in his lone- 
 liness, had now arrived at the very acme of earthly con- 
 tent. 
 
 "Well, my boy," he said presently, ambling back to Edward, 
 " how are things going at Laconia ? I thought a minute ago 
 nothing could make me a grain liappier, but positively now 
 it would do me good to have a nice shaking from Mr. Jere- 
 miah. So hearty is Mr. Jeremiah with his old friends, 'spe- 
 cially in days of trouble. 'Twould be a great treat now." 
 He shook his head, and gave one of his little ecstatic smiles, 
 as though actually revelling in the delight of a shaking. 
 Edward, who had finished his letter, and been startled from 
 an absorbing reverie by his approach, took advantage of 
 Father Benson's pleasant^little fancy to recover his self-pos- 
 session. 
 
 " Everybody that we love is well there ; but poor Higgins 
 is prostrated, I fear for life. He has been struck with para- 
 lysis, and given up all his practice. I have any quantity of 
 messages for you, for none of them forget you there." 
 
 " Trust Jeremiah for that," cried Father Benson, rubbing
 
 KATE WESTON. 441 
 
 his hands. " He never forgets old friends ; but what's that 
 about Dr. Higgins? given up practice? Poor man! he'll have 
 to exercise the grace of patience now, at any rate. But he 
 may be better in three years. The disease may work itself 
 out by that time. They want 'you back, again, don't they?" 
 He turned his little eager eyes inquisitively upon Edward. 
 
 " Yes, they want me back," answered the young man 
 thoughtfully, " they think there is a good field open now for 
 the practice of my profession ; but I don't know." 
 
 "To be sure," exclaimed Father Benson, 'seating himself 
 beside Edward, and patting him three times in the conscious- 
 ness of a bright idea, " Providence has opened a way for you. 
 Somebody*!! have to take Dr. Higgins's practice, and you'd 
 be happier there than anywhere else, now you know you 
 would." 
 
 ." But I after " Edward hesitated and sighed. 
 
 " Now won't you believe me, Edward ?" said the old gentle- 
 man, patting him again ; the Laconia people are vast friends 
 of yours yet. Why, Mr. Stetson told me himself the last 
 time I was there with my Standard Library, that if he had a 
 choice of fifty doctors, he'd take you in preference to them 
 all, and he insisted that it was so with twenty families he 
 knew. Fact is, they all sympathize with you there, and Jim 
 Keid has a cold shoulder turned towards him nowadays." 
 
 " I believe," said Maggie, " that he is actually more blamed 
 than you are. Mr. Myers and a few of their associates seem 
 to be the only ones that take his part at all." 
 
 " That consideration would have less weight than the call 
 of duty, Maggie," said young Benson, glancing towards the 
 noble face whose expression was so fraught with thoughtful 
 doubt that he scarcely seemed to be listening to their words. 
 The last sentence, however, roused him. A flash, as of some 
 new light, glowed for a moment in Edward's eye. The next 
 moment he pushed his chair from the table and walked to 
 the window. "The moon is just rising," he said as he 
 returned, " I believe I will walk towards the Falls, and think 
 over the matter quietly. Duty has become a word of stern 
 significance to me. I had almost forgotten it in my sensitive 
 dread of returning to Laconia. I thank you, William, for 
 reminding me." 
 
 As he stepped out from the luxuriant bushes about the 
 door, a man's figure crouched noiselessly into their shadow. 
 19*
 
 442 KATE WESTON. 
 
 Edward walked up the road. For a moment the strange 
 figure followed him. Then it returned again, and crept 
 round to the back of the house, still concealed by the bushes. 
 Edward left the road, and walked along the bank of the 
 river. There was a bright spot in the horizon, heralding the 
 moon's advance. The dark waters of the Niagara river rolled 
 majestically past, and above the moaning of the autumn wind 
 swelled the roar of its mighty cataract. 
 
 As the moon arose, a line of spray was visible below, and 
 Goat's Island, in the centre, lay dark against the sky. A 
 strange mixture of solemn feelings were swelling in Edward's 
 bosom. All this wonderful work of God wakened more than 
 admiration, more than awe in his chastened heart worship, 
 mingled with the childlike trust of a new believer in a 
 Savior's love. God's power but added to the confidence 
 with which he rested in his love, and cast himself upon his 
 infinite atonement. 
 
 Presently, mingling with those thoughts, came the earnest 
 pleadings of his father's and his sister's letters ; the arguments 
 they had adduced, the inducements they had urged, the 
 yearning love they evinced after his guilt and his disgrace. 
 But, above them all, before them all, the simple words traced 
 in Kate's delicate hand, " Edward come I must see you," 
 wakened a thrill of the hope he thought he had crushed 
 away. He seemed to hear them in the music of her voice ; 
 he seemed to see her pure face in that moonlight as it had 
 beamed upon him years ago, when, and how, his bleeding 
 heart too well remembered. 
 
 He Avalked on rapidly, absorbed in his reverie, until the 
 roar of the falls called him back to the consciousness that he 
 stood close beside the mightiest wonder of . the physical 
 world. Directly above where the vast mass of water, rushing, 
 whirling over those eternal rocks leaps into the bed below, 
 he sank down upon the bank, overwhelmed for a season with 
 the intensity of awe. But by-and-bv Kate's words mingled 
 again with the voice of the many waters, and the heart, 
 attuned as it was to the melody of all glorious tones, went 
 traveling back to feeling, loving life. 
 
 Still he shrank from returning to those upon whose name 
 his deed had cast a stain. Welcome him warmly as they 
 might, he knew that some eyes would be averted at his 
 approach. Could Kate Weston, in her young purity, forgive
 
 KATE WESTON. 443 
 
 the sorrow lie had already heaped upon her ? Ought he to 
 lift his" heart one moment to her now ? To swerve from the 
 course of self-sacrifice, he had imposed ? . Duty ! What was the 
 path marked out by God ? He pondered earnestly and well 
 before he went from the presence of the mighty waters. 
 
 When he turned a lingering glance upon the everlasting 
 sea of spray rolling beneath him, he had resolved. Com- 
 muning with his soul, he had found there still the remains of 
 that fear of man's scorn, and love of man's applause, drawing 
 him away from all that earth could offer of love and happi- 
 ness, father, sisters, friends. He would return to them he 
 would resume the practice of his profession, praying and toil- 
 ing to bear meekly the reproaches that might fall upon him, 
 catching, at least, some sunlight of earth's affection, but 
 looking to fame or honor never. 
 
 He would see Kate, but his heart should be crushed before 
 her. She, at least, should be spared the humiliation that he 
 might have to undergo. In the course of years he would 
 learn to love her as a sister. It would not be hard. Why, 
 he could fancy her sweet face smiling upon him now, and her 
 sweeter voice ringing in his ear, and feel no thrill of agony 
 that a year ago accompanied each thought of her. There 
 was already a soothing power in the image thus evoked that 
 years must increase and strengthen. 
 
 Ah, Edward ! Experience was thine, and a bitter one, but 
 the frank, boyish soul, credulous in all matters of affection, 
 was in thee still, creating a peaceful rnirage in absence, that 
 time and presence should scatter with a breath. 
 
 When the muffled figure returned to its hiding-place 
 among the bushes, a muttered curse went up. " No use ; take 
 them altogether ; it's the safest way," and the speaker crept 
 close up to the window of the sitting-room. Looking in, he 
 saw William and Maggie sitting together at the table, their 
 faces beaming with the perfect content that only love and 
 happiness can give. Father Benson was sitting near them, 
 busily engaged in sorting over some books and tracts which 
 lay in a large paper he had just unfolded beside him. Pre- 
 sently William closed the book, and turned with some anima- 
 tion to speak to his young wife. Then he rose, took from a 
 cupboard a small wooden box, set it down before her, and 
 reseated himself. Opening the box, he took out a package 
 of soiled papers, and both bent eagerly to their perusal. 
 
 The man at the window strained his eyes eagerly to catch
 
 444 KATE WKSTON. 
 
 the heading of the first paper taken up. After standing some 
 time he glided away, and entered a cellar, the door of which 
 was already open. A pile of something just discernible in the 
 glimmer of the rising moon, lay beneath a small window. He 
 lit a dark lantern, and commenced a cautious search. The 
 heap consisted of a lot of old packing-boxes and barrels, that 
 from the dust and cobwebs gathered upon them, seemed to 
 have lain undisturbed for months. He went round behind 
 them, and at length, seemingly satisfied, set his lantern clown 
 so as to let the light fall directly upon an uncouth looking 
 triangular box, so disposed under a lot of others, that its 
 removal would cause no disturbance. This he drew out with 
 a motion dexterous and noiseless as that of the Hindoo 
 Thug strangling his unwary victim. He drew his lantern 
 forward, looked into the aperture thus made, put his hand 
 stealthily in far as he could reach, and succeeded in drawing 
 out several smaller articles. 
 
 After closing his lantern, he left it there, crept out stealthily 
 as he came, and made his way, ever through the shadow 
 of the bushes, down to the water's side. A boat lay com- 
 pletely concealed beneath some trees, from around whose 
 roots the ceaseless tide had washed so much of the bank as to 
 leave their trunks bending in an almost horizontal position 
 above the water. He stepped into the boat, and lifted out a 
 small keg, seeming from the manner in which it was carried, 
 very heavy for its size. Once twice thrice he bore one 
 of the kegs towards the house, going and returning with a 
 step so noiseless that a listener would have strained his ear in 
 vain to hear anything above the sigh of the rustling trees, and 
 the roll of the distant cataract. 
 
 At length, after re-entering the cellar for the third time, he 
 proceeded to uncover his lantern. First one keg, then the 
 second, were placed close together far within the aperture he 
 had previously made. Before depositing the last, he deliberately 
 took a gimlet from his pocket, made an aperture in the bottom 
 of the keg, and scattered out a dark-colored powder all the 
 way from the interior of the aperture to the edge. Then, after 
 drawing from a huge side-pocket a ball of some substance 
 resembling stripped leather, he made one end fast to the 
 remaining keg, which he proceeded to place close beside its two 
 companions. Unwinding the ball, he laid the strip all along 
 in the powder, and secured it where the powder terminated with 
 a half-circle whose sharp points he fixed firmly in the ground.
 
 KATE WESTON. 445 
 
 Keplacing carefully the smaller articles he had removed, he 
 returned the triangular box so accurately to its place that no 
 one could have suspected its removal. Still unrolling the ball, 
 he softly lifted the window, passed it through, bored a hole in 
 the very corner of the sash, and closed the window, allowing 
 the string to pass through the gimlet opening. 
 
 After taking a careful survey of the place where he had 
 been operating, he put out the light of IMS lantern, passed to 
 the outside of the window, lifted the ball, and made with it a 
 continuous line to the water, fastening it finally to a branch of 
 the over-hanging tree. 
 
 When all this was done, he returned to the little side-win- 
 dow, and peeped into the room. Father Benson had left 
 them. William was lying on the sofa, and Maggie was strok- 
 ing the hair from his forehead. The pile of papers was 
 returned to the open box. Every appliance of comfort was 
 arranged so as to convey that inexplicable idea of home, that 
 carries always a charm to the happy circle within its bounds. 
 He turned away, and looked anxiously up to a heavy cloud 
 that was spreading towards the moon. Leaning back in the* 
 very centre of a clump of tall lilacs, he drew the muffler a 
 little from his face, and stood for a full half hour watching 
 the cloud as it gathered strength, and floated upward to the 
 zenith. 
 
 Slow, majestic, as though fraught with destiny, was the 
 march of the rising cloud. Nearer, nearer it advanced 
 towards the moon, flinging its pall above the rolling waters 
 and the moonlit shore. A gleam of satisfaction shot from the 
 fierce eyes of the watcher. But when the black mass had 
 overtopped the zenith, it began to veer slowly round, as though 
 impelled by some adverse current in the air. Floating off, 
 with its silver edge receding from the moon, it passed her by, 
 and soon broke its heavy mass into smaller ones, fringed and 
 flaky, swimming about through the clear azure, like white 
 sails upon a distant sea. 
 
 The man uttered a low oath, and, after detaching the line 
 he had lain along the ground, close to the gimlet-hole in the 
 window, wound it up again, untied it from the tree, and 
 stepped into the boat. He seated himself in the centre, and 
 commenced plying the oars. " Confound it !" he exclaimed, 
 when well away from the shore. " I'll have to wait now till 
 
 to-morrow night. That cloud has spoiled the whole 
 
 affair, breaking up in that fashion. I never knew my luck
 
 446 KATE WESTON. 
 
 fail so before. Might as well hang myself as fire a house 
 such a night as this, and sail away under that blazing moon. 
 Moon's up an hour later to-morrow ; I'll be in time then any- 
 how. Blast it, hope I'll catch Clarence in, too. Curse that 
 Bill, his father cut me out twenty-five years ago, and I've hated 
 everything that belonged to him since. And the boy he's 
 thwarted me, feared me, hated me, tried to kill me, and now 
 he's going, to try the hanging game, I suppose, with those 
 
 precious papers. By , but I'll break up his cooing and 
 
 billing to-morrow night. Bah ! the dog ! I'd like to send 
 him adrift into yonder caldron." 
 
 Soliloquizing thus, the muffled figure rowed away, until he 
 came to the opposite side. He pulled his boat into a sort of 
 cavern formed by projecting rocks, secured it, took a small 
 bundle in his hand, and walked rapidly away. * * * * 
 
 The next evening, long before the moon rises, the quiet 
 waters of the cavern are stirred again by the rocking of the 
 boat. Silence rests upon the jagged shore, and sleeps upon 
 the dark waters that lie beneath the rocks. Only the solemn 
 monotony of the cataract below answers to the glance of the 
 fur stars, whose rays quiver in the tide. Still as midsummer 
 up among the trees. Not a leaf stirring ; not a squirrel 
 startled from his slumber by the stealthy splash of the oars 
 below. Not a footstep nor a breath in the dark solitude. 
 The muffled figure drops the oars, and pauses, as though in 
 doubt. 
 
 " Yes," he mutters, " half a dozen of them looked after me, 
 as I came down the street from the hotel. If I'm seen over 
 there, I'd be safer in t'other rig ; believe I'll change now." 
 
 He proceeds to remove his clothes, substituting in their 
 place a sailor's jacket and pants, and a red flannel shirt. 
 Then he places a bushy wig on his head, and completes his 
 attire by tipping a tarpaulin hat over the false luxuriance of 
 locks below. Tying up the clothes he has removed in a tight 
 bundle, and attaching a heavy stone, he rows a little way 
 from land, and drops them in the river. " Satisfactory that," 
 
 he murmurs again, " gone to the , I've no doubt, where 
 
 they belong. Think Bill wouldn't knoij me himself with 
 these fixin's." 
 
 Steady with desperate energy is the hand that plies the oar. 
 Calm, unflinching is the heart to whose beat that even plash 
 answers momently, as the boat sweeps along the waves. The 
 holy stars looking down upoji the stream, see only a frail
 
 KATE WESTON. 447 
 
 bark, moving onward, with a dark figure sitting upright in the 
 centre, guiding himself through the dangerous rapids with a 
 firm, true hand. The angels, looking down into the heart, 
 see there the fierce storm of unbridled passion, hatred, jealousy, 
 murder, nerving the strong arm and steady hand to secret 
 deeds of horror. 
 
 He is more than half across. The stars shine on. The 
 cataract rolls on. The banks lie still and dark. Earth, sea, 
 nor sky, cry out against his progress. But, there is a GOD in 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 Softly, so softly that he scarcely hears the sound, his boat 
 scrapes over some sharp substance beneath the surface. It 
 veers over to one side. He tries to push it off, but it is 
 caught firmly upon the snag. He fixes his oar into the 
 hooked branches beneath him, and pushes hard to free him- 
 self. He takes both oars. In vain. He tries the other side. 
 At length, with an impatient jerk, he braces himself in the 
 stern, and with one violent thrust sends the boat suddenly 
 adrift. He falls backward ; the boat rocks with his motion. 
 But he starts up, and resumes his place at the centre with an 
 oath upon his lips. 
 
 Hush there is a bubbling sound under his feet. The 
 water is rising about him. He stoops over, and puts his hand 
 into the bottom of the boat. A plank is loose. In three 
 minutes, there is a sudden plunge, a closing together of the 
 waters, and a human being is struggling for life. He swims 
 towards the shore. Dashing away the waves, his sinewy 
 figure battles mightily to achieve an impossible labor. Long 
 before he reaches the shore, his strength fails. He fixes a 
 firm grasp upon the oar which he has been pushing before 
 him, and floats helplessly down the stream. The stars are 
 twinkling still, the roar of mighty waters rises still to his ear, 
 but a mightier voice, at last, is swelling above the neariug 
 cataract. 
 
 At last ! The long years of that hard, desperate life record 
 no qualm of fear, no quivering of energy before the bloodiest 
 purpose. They are floating before his mental vision now a 
 youth of reckless adventure, a manhood of fierce, unrepented 
 crime. The waves gurgling about his ears seem fraught 
 with life. Eyes, wild and despairing lurid with revenge 
 triumphant in demoniac scorn, look into his from the plash- 
 ing waters. Whispers, distinct and terrible, rise above their 
 murmur. Death, in whose very teeth he has flung taunts of
 
 448 KATE WESTOX. 
 
 defiance a hundred times before, is smiling ghastly upon him 
 now. Eternity, like a vast, vague mist, spreads about him, 
 peopled with figures and faces from which his sick soul shud- 
 ders. The demons that have played in fiery wreaths about 
 the dying victims of his lust of gain, seem tearing at his 
 heart. They compass him with chains ; they draw him down 
 beneath the waters. They laugh hideously in his ears. They 
 swarm upon his face, crowding the warm life-breath back 
 upon his heart. 
 
 Hush ! There is a pause in his headlong descent. Some- 
 thing resists his advance. Unconsciously his hand clutches 
 at a support. The touch calls him back to life. A lew quick 
 grasps, and his head is above water. For a few moments he 
 clings fast, and strives to remember where he is. Then, with 
 a few more efforts he is seated upon the crotch of a huge 
 snag jutting from the water. With returning consciousness, 
 hope steals back. He peers out towards the land. The banks 
 lie still and dark against the sky. The stars shine on. But 
 the waters at his feet whirl wildly by. A sound as of many 
 thunders, roars up the river, and he almost fancies that his rest- 
 ing-place is floating onward to the brink of the falls below. 
 
 In an hour the moon rises. He sees distinctly now the 
 island cutting apart the long white line below ; the trees, 
 standing so motionless upon the banks. The white cottage, 
 far above him, to which he had bent his course. He looks 
 down. His weight is too much for his frail support. The 
 water is nearing him. A chill creeps to his heart. He looks 
 again towards the shore. Is there no help no refuge. He 
 shouts aloud. No answer. He sends forth shriek after 
 shriek the roar of the cataract booming through the night 
 is his only answer. The snag is lowering slowly surely ; the 
 tide is bubbling about his feet. 
 
 The stars are fading, but the moon is marching up. The 
 banks are bathed in light. But human ears hear not the 
 echo of despair leaping among their rocks, nor see the lonely 
 figure clinging desperately to life, while a death of horror 
 seems rising up around him. 
 
 The sun is coming up over the Niagara river. Its banks 
 teem with human life. Men hurry to and fro with wild, 
 strange looks upon their faces. Women cry aloud, and 
 children strain their eyes out upon the waves in wondering 
 terror. A fellow being clings to a short, thick snag shooting 
 above the water. When the first man came to the river's
 
 KATE WESTON. 449 
 
 brink at dawn, his cries poured clear and shrill to shore. 
 Now they hear but a faint wail, as though the conflict were 
 almost ended. 
 
 They have thrown ropes towards him. They have sent 
 out boat after boat with cords attached to the shore, hoping 
 that they might float near him. In vain. The rapids whirl 
 one bark within a few yards, but it passes on to the Falls 
 below. Hours pass by, and he clings with frantic death-grasp 
 to the hope of life, growing frailer with each rushing wave. 
 
 How the spray sparkles Jn the sunlight, flashing along 
 like a sea of liquid diamonds. How the solemn voice of the 
 cataract calls up to its certain victim from the vast abyss 
 below. How the sea of human life swells upon the banks, 
 as the day goes by, and no. rescue reaches the man whose 
 power of endurance seems a miracle to the anxious watchers. 
 The excitement increases at each repeated failure of their 
 efforts for his salvation. His cries have ceased altogether 
 now, but his hand seems a part of the blackened snag, so 
 convulsive is his tightening hold. 
 
 At length, just before noon, two young men come hastily 
 towards the crowd. A few words pass between them and 
 the immediate bystanders. The elder of the two pauses a 
 moment thoughtfully, and leaps into a boat to which some 
 men are tying a stout rope. Several voices murmur about 
 him. " You shall not go ; it would be certain death," " One 
 victim is enough." "The water is full of snags." "Those 
 ropes would break like rotten cords." His companion lays 
 his hand persuasively upon his arm, and addresses him in a few 
 low, earnest words. Those standing nearest hear his answer. 
 
 " To you, to you " pointing back to a graceful female 
 figure coming down the bank, " but not to me." He shakes 
 his head half mournfully as he. hurriedly ties a rope about his 
 waist. Two or three outstretched hands would deter him. 
 He puts them back with a gentle firmness, fastens about his 
 waist a life-preserver some one has thrown him, and seizes 
 the oars. Several stout arms are holding the rope which is to 
 steady his boat, others, that which ]$ fastened about his body. 
 
 The female figure has reached the bank. Her face grows 
 pale as she sees him, and she cries out, " Oh, come back, you 
 will surely perish." The light in his eye, and the high glory 
 on his brow, as he looks towards her, make the men who 
 still strive to hinder him recede as he pushes from the shore. 
 " Maggie, there is a GOD IN HEAVEN."
 
 450 KATE WESTON. 
 
 As he rows rapidly out into the torrent, and the assembled 
 multitude catch an .idea of his purpose, a simultaneous shout 
 goes up, that infuses strength into the heart of the man grasp- 
 ing now almost unconsciously the only link between himself 
 and life. Rolling, whirling in the rapids, the little boat, with 
 its gallant oarsjpan nears him. Now half buried in the 
 eddying waves, now leaping upwards like a bird, it pushes on 
 to its destination. It is within a few yards. The pulse of 
 teeming life upon, the shore, stands for a moment still. A 
 few more strokes, and it will have reached him. 
 
 All consciousness seems to have worn away, in that weary, 
 desperate struggle for life, for the man does not notice the 
 approach of the boat that at length may end his labors. 
 Only that instinctive clasp gives evidence of life. The young 
 man shouts aloud. With a convulsive effort, the figure rising 
 and falling with the motion of the waves, turns over. The 
 youth in the boat starts with a quick scream. The man in the 
 water fixes his glaring eyes upon him. For the first time the 
 motion of the oars is a little unsteady. But the young, strong 
 arm commands itself, and pulls once, twice, vigorously 
 towards him. He can almost reach him now. He drops one 
 oar into the boat, uses one, and bends eagerly forward to seize 
 kjs prize. One stroke and he can touch him. 
 
 Hark ! a gurgle from the livid mouth a contortion of the 
 face a convulsion of the figure the hand loosens its hold, 
 and a whirling wave carries him within half a yard of the out- 
 stretched hand that strives to rescue. 
 
 One groan from the banks swells above the roar of waters. 
 The young man, heedless of his own peril, gazes motionless as 
 though turned to stone, upon the body shooting along the 
 swift waters. Down, down, almost to the brink lost for a 
 moment leaping up at the very edge, and whirled over into 
 the soundless depths below. 
 
 * * * * * j- * 
 
 It was many months after, when house-cleaning time came 
 round, and all the old pile of lumber was removed, that Wil- 
 liam and Maggie discovered the mine of ruin that had so 
 nearly sprung beneath them. 
 
 Standing then in the light of the little window, looking up 
 with pale face from the uncovered kegs and well-laid train, to 
 the paler face of his young wife, William murmured, scarcely 
 above a whisper, " Maggie, there is a GOD in HEAVEN."
 
 Down, down, almost to the brink lost for a moment leaping up at the very edge. 
 :uid whirled over into the soundless depths below. P. 450.
 
 KATE WESTON. 451 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 ON the morning of the very day in which that fierce, 
 remorseless soul went to stand before the tribunal of an angry- 
 God, Alice Byng was startled, on descending from her room, 
 by an exclamation of terror from the girl who had just 
 opened the front door. 
 
 " Oh, Missus, see here !" she cried, retreating to the hall. 
 Alice stepped forward. The tall, thin figure of a woman 
 was drawn up in an abject, cringing posture on the broad 
 stone at the top, with her face turned down upon the step, 
 against the door-sill. She spoke to her. No answer. She 
 came closer, and laid her hand upon the head. No motion. 
 The bony hand was closed tightly about a roll of papers. 
 
 Alice stooped over, and touched the hand. She started 
 back, stood still a moment, and returned to summon her hus- 
 band. He came down, took the hand in his, tried to raise 
 the head. 
 
 " It is no use, Alice," he said, softly, " she is gone. Her 
 head is heavy as lead. Wait, let me turn her over." He 
 stooped, turned the body carefully over, and looked into a 
 face whose last expression Avas one of bitter, despairing 
 penitence. His own turned pale as death. He placed his 
 hand as if for support, high against the door-casing, leaned 
 his head upon it, and gave way to an uncontrollable burst of 
 tears. 
 
 His wife came forward in alarm. Strange to see that grave 
 face so convulsed with emotion, to hear great sobs burst up 
 from the broad, strong breast. He bowed his head upon her 
 shoulder, " My sister Alice," was all that he could whisper, 
 and her tears mingled with his own. 
 
 Presently he crowded back the sorrow, lifted the gaunt 
 figure in his arms, carried it in, and laid it tenderly on the 
 parlor-sofa. 
 
 The next day there was a quiet funeral there. The coffin 
 was closed, and a plain silver plate bore the inscription :
 
 452 KATE WESTON. 
 
 MARY BYNQ MORRIS, 
 
 BORN 
 JULY 15TH, 181-, 
 
 DIED 
 OCTOBER STH, 185-. 
 
 When Edward Clarence returned to New York, he was 
 accompanied by William Benson, who brought his wife to 
 weep at the grave of her mother, and win a place in the 
 affection of her new relatives. The cordiality of their wel- 
 come was only equalled by their gratitude to God, and the 
 generous hearts he had employed to rescue the child from 
 sharing the fearful destiny of her dead mother. 
 
 The discovery of the powder, and the almost certainty of 
 Gamp's terrible intentions, were never revealed, except to 
 Edward and his family. All necessary steps were taken, 
 however, to prove that William Benson had been defrauded 
 by him of his father's property. With the aid of the man 
 Shroeck, and all the valuable papers in William's possession, 
 they had little difficulty in identifying his claim, and, after 
 many years had elapsed, during which Gamp had retained 
 the money, the jury awarded to him the whole of his claim, 
 with the accumulated interest. 
 
 Having then means and leisure to pursue his favorite 
 study, rather as a science than a mechanical trade, he resolved 
 at once to make himself master of its highest principles. 
 Although Father Benson's three years have not yet elapsed, 
 his prophecy that his boy would " make one of the first engi- 
 neers in this country," is in a fair way for fulfillment. By the 
 power of energy and perseverance, the young man has already 
 conquered difficulties that for years have baffled the skill of 
 older minds. 
 
 But not in these matters alone does William Benson shine 
 pre-eminent. Both himself and his young wife have suffered ; 
 have tasted life's bitter waters, and in the precious Bible 
 have found the antidote to their bitterness. Wherever a soul 
 is struggling in the darkness of unbelief, wherever a frail 
 form is sinking beneath poverty or shame wherever a weak 
 spirit flutters in the baneful influence of a bad man's will, 
 their hearts and hands are ready with sympathy or more sub- 
 stantial aid, to feel and do for others what others have felt 
 and done for them.
 
 KATE WESTON. 458 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 KATE WESTON was sitting at her bedroom window. The 
 changeable foliage of Autumn lay spread away before her, 
 down a long slope to the valley where the pretty village 
 nestled amid hues of gold, scarlet, green and brown. 
 
 The season had been one of prosperous and abundant 
 growth, and the sun, on that Indian Summer afternoon, 
 looked down upon an unusual we'alth of that gorgeous 
 season of the year. 
 
 Kate's cheek had been bright all day, and her voice trem- 
 ulous with a strange music. Her light foot bounded through 
 the house with a nervous energy totally foreign to her gentle 
 nature. But now her eye was kindling with a deeper light, 
 and the white roses in her hair trembled as though shaken 
 by the wind. A snowy muslin robe, fastened at the throat 
 with a single ruby that Edward.^id given her years before, 
 two or three rose buds in the bodice, and a wreath twined 
 in her back hair, completed her attire. Not in " broidered 
 hair, nor pearls, nor costly array," lay the charm of her 
 adorning. The roses were white, with a delicate straw- 
 colored centre ; she had gathered them that afternoon from 
 her favorite bush, the same whose single bud, a year before, 
 Edward had unconsciously broken. 
 
 Every few minutes her head turned nervously to the road 
 leading from Mr. Jeremiah's dwelling. Presently three figures, 
 dim in the distance, came down towards her. One very tall 
 and stout, one very short and puffy, another, a little shorter 
 than the first, but straight and elastic as an arrow. Kate 
 drew back into the shadow of the muslin curtain ; a moment 
 after she heard Rosy calling up to her, " Missey Katy !" She 
 looked out. " Dey's jest a comin' down de road. 'Pears 
 Mas'r Edward walks mighty peart now ; walks as straight 
 now ; guess dat renimical tumble into de Niagary Falls 
 didn't hurt him much, anyhow, ef it did break his boat to 
 pieces. Lawsakes, he's pearter'n he ever was, do look, Missey 
 Kate." Rosy put up both great black hands to readjust her
 
 454 KATE WESTON. 
 
 yellow turban, and fold the three-cornered shawl becomingly 
 across her broad bosom, 'as Kate drew again into the shelter 
 of the curtain. 
 
 What a wild gush of music that young heart was pouring 
 out, discordant, but melodious to the listening angels as the 
 harmony of their native heaven ; like those matchless minor 
 discords that entrance the master-spirits of music in our 
 fallen world. One solemn peal of triumph, strong as a 
 trumpet-tone, at the rescue of an immortal soul precious as 
 her own, mingling with the notes of woman's perfect love, 
 and* all subdued by a soft undertone of fear. 
 
 Did he love her still ? Would he think it delicate in her 
 summoning him to her, without the slightest intimation of his 
 desire to come ? Would honor prompt him, if affection had 
 grown cold? Kate Kate unworthy of you. He had 
 resolved to lose you, but he had no such fears. 
 
 She sat quite still, trying to calm her feelings. She could 
 generally control them what was the matter now ? The 
 greater the effort, the faster rang the mystic peal of that 
 throbbing soul. They were coming nearer ; she did not 'see 
 them, but she could almost count their steps by the motion 
 of her beating fancy. She could hear her mother's even step 
 in the parlor where she waited them below, and Rosy's voice 
 muttering away in exuberant delight beneath the window. 
 
 " Gwine to come roun' right at last,, arter all ;" murmured 
 the ebony lady, in a half-indignant tone. " Lawsakes, didn't 
 I know de good Lord'd bring him round. 'Pears Missey Kate 
 don't care nuffin for that yer fix Mas'r Edward got into, 
 nohow. No more she otight. Don't dem renimical rum- 
 sellers deduce everybody 'd like to know. Nebber see'd 
 nuffin like 'em. But dere's a good time a comin' ; dat com- 
 forts Rosy. Dis yer gran' law's jest a gwine to comboberlate 
 de whole lot ob 'em into buttermilk. 'Pears now, I sees it 
 a risin' up, like de cloud, no bigger dan de man's hand, 
 a spreadin' and a spreadin', till it trabbles all ober de sky, an' 
 rains down happiness all ober de world. De Lord can do it 
 all, an' ole Rosy's gwine to live till Joe gits dare out de snare 
 ob de fowler. Lawsakes, they's a'most here aready." 
 
 Kate's quickened ear caught the distant sound of footsteps, 
 but she sat quite still, pressing her hand upon her heart (as 
 though she could hush its unwonted riot.) Nearer nearer 
 came the feet she could hear voices now there, it was his 
 voice ! she started up like a frightened fawn, flew down
 
 KATE WESTON. 455 
 
 stairs, and away out into her bower, before Rosy's span-new 
 turban had finished fluttering its welcome at the front gate. 
 
 It was full fifteen minutes after they had entered that Mrs. 
 Weston, with one of her own gentle smiles, came back from 
 a second unsuccessful search for the missing fairy. " Prithee, 
 my son," she said, in the yearning tone of years gone by, " go 
 and find her for us. She has vanished, but I think thee can 
 find her. I left her in her room but a little while before you 
 came. Thou knowest some of her hiding-places, and I shall 
 have to send thee for her." 
 
 Edward rose with a slight embarrassment of manner, and 
 walked away without speaking. Mrs. Weston returned to 
 her seat at the back window of the sitting-room, and a 
 moment after they saw Edward's lithe figure descending the 
 slope that led to the tiny waterfall, whereupon Mr. Jeremiah's 
 great red handkerchief acquitted itself honorably of a tri- 
 umphant flourish ; Mrs. Weston's mild eyes looked com- 
 placently over her spectacles at the retreating figure, as she 
 made some trivial remark upon the favorable season ; Mr. 
 Pufton threw his little round head back, rubbed his hands in 
 a perfect ecstasy and shot oft' half-a-dozen answers. " Think 
 so myself, ma'am quite favorable, ma'am uncommonly 
 favorable, ma'am highly delightful, ma'am perfectly satis- 
 factory in all respects, ma'am." It didn't seem to strike Mrs. 
 Weston that he was at all extravagant on such a common- 
 place subject, for she looked as much delighted as himself, 
 with those large blue eyes, that years and sorrow had no 
 power to dim, fixed upon the narrow path that led to her 
 daughter's sanctum. 
 
 Edward's glance, as he passed along, was arrested by the 
 hallowed linden-tree, heaped with the foliage that rustled in 
 the sunlight. A flash of something that he thought darkened 
 long ago, beamed out upon the mirage that, in absence, he 
 had mistaken for reality, and a mist was dimming its clear 
 outlines. He walked on. Somehow the calmness he had 
 labored for, until he thought that he was perfect master of 
 his feelings, was ebbing away. Strangely enough, he began 
 to linger, and wonder what he should say, and how he should 
 meet her. He had resolved to ask her friendship still, but in 
 what words should he couch his request. Presently he 
 stopped short for a minute, then, as though ashamed at his 
 own emotion, hurried on again. 
 
 A few more steps, and he came to the rose-bush, with its
 
 456 KATE WESTON. 
 
 wealth of flowers and bursting buds. Another flash of that 
 strange light ; the mirage was growing fainter. The bright 
 water rippled along by the narrow opening down which he 
 was passing. His foot rustled among the falling leaves, so 
 that the fairy figure upon which his eye rested, as he turned 
 the great tree at the end of the path, must have been con- 
 scious of his approach. But she did not stir. She was stand- 
 ing with one arm clasped about a sapling, bending over, with 
 averted face, and looking down into the water. 
 
 Her bright hair looked golden in the sunshine, and the 
 half-blown roses were trembling, trembling, more than that 
 light breath of wind could shake them. Except for that, and 
 the flutter of the white robe, the contour of that matchless 
 figure might have seemed the work of some master-sculptor, 
 so steady was the quiet with which it clung to the slight sap- 
 ling beside her. Edward advanced to within a few feet of 
 her. His heart was throbbing, his strong will flickering ; the 
 mirage had almost vanished. He stepped a pace nearer she' 
 did not move, but the largest rose in her hair quivered more 
 than ever. For a minute he stood still, then " Oh, Edward, 
 what were you doing?" With an involuntary motion he 
 stepped forward, and bent his head above her shoulder, until 
 both faces were reflected in the water. 
 
 She started, let go the sapling, and turned towards him. 
 There was something in the soul-light of those eyes, that 
 scattered the mirage, and poured back in its full power the 
 resistless love he had fancied conquered. How radiant was 
 that pure face, glowing with the inner beauty that outvied the 
 sunlight. ' 
 
 The next moment resolves and fears were all forgotten 
 His young, strong arm was about her, her face was hidden in 
 his bosom. The angels listened to the added melody of ano- 
 ther heart, and the full, rich tones rising in one triumph- 
 strain of love and gratitude, pealed now, at last, in perfect 
 unison. 
 
 Together in the Ark. 
 
 THE END.

 
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 A 000047927 " 
 
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