BEHIND THE CURTAIN; LEELINAU. There is goodness, like wild honey, hired in strange nooks and corners of the earth. DOUGLASS JEEROLD. NEW YORK: WILLIAM R. SPINNEY, 4TH AYE. AMD 2JD ST. PREFATORY NOTE. FOB the incidents concerning young Wallingford, the author is indebted to a missionary who labored among the Indians. The characters of Letelesha and Petalesharoo are derived from history. The visit of the young chief to the City of Washington created intense interest for his tribe among government officials ; his efforts at raising the tone of morals among the Pawnees being unprece- dented in one not acquainted with God's Word. The author, also, gratefully acknowledges her in- debtedness to the works of the following authors for facts respecting the manners and customs of the Paw- nees : Drake's Book of the Indians ; Heckewelder's Hi>tory of Indian Nations; Schoolcraft's Journal, and Legends; Johnstone's Narrative; Robertson's History; Lewis and Clark's Expedition to the Pacific Ocean ; Major Long's Journal, and other records of expedi- tions among the Western Tribes. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Tire STATION-HOUSE, 9 CHAPTER II. THP TRAVELLERS, 21 CHAPTER HI. THE SCRIPTURE-MOTTOES, S3 CHAPTER IV. LOOKING UNTO JESUS, .... 47 CHAPTER V. A FAITHFUL FRIEND, 60 CHAPTER VL DOUBT AND CONFLICT, ..... 74 CHAPTER VII. TBE ENGLISHMAN'S STORY, .... 87 CHAPTER Vin. EDITH SINGINO, .100 CO VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. THE NEW ORGANIST, 110 CHAPTER X. THE SEPARATION, 124 CHAPTER XL THE NEW HOME, 128 CHAPTER XIL WALLINGFORD'S LETTER, . . . , 137 CHAPTER XIH. WALLIXGFORD'S JOURNAL, . , . 153 CHAPTER XIV. THE HAPPY REUNION, 166 CHAPTER XV. THE MOTHER'S LODGE, 184 CHAPTER XVI. LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD, . . . . 195 CHAPTER XVII. BEHOLD, HE PRAYS, 208 CHAPTER XVHI. DEATH OF LEELINAU, . . . 221 CONTENTS. Vll CHAPTER XIX. THE BURIAL, . . . . . . 232 CHAPTER XX. SUSPICION OF FRAUD, ..... 245 CHAPTER XXI. YEARS OF HAPPiXEbS, ..... 268 CHAPTER XXII. TUB CHASTENING ROD, 271 CHAPTER XXIII. A BRIEF EPISTLE, 285 CHAPTER XXIV. DEATH OF THE CONSPIRATORS, .... 299 CHAPTER XXV. TnK TRAVELLERS' RETURN, . 314 CHAPTER XXVL Tnx SEQUEL, ,327 CHAPTER L TUB STATIOX-HOUSE. LARGE, open and not over cloan station-house in Montreal, the floor covered with oil-cloth worn in front of the seats, passengers running to and fro to secure tickets from the hurried, but civil depot-master, friends meeting with a hasty, " Oh, I'm glad you're off too ! " " Splendid day ! " " What a crowd ! " " Oh, dear ! where is my husband with those baggage- checks ? " Here and there a quiet, but tear- ful leave-taking such is the opening scene of my story. Notwithstanding the hurry and bustle of 10 LEELIXAU. everybody, tho fear of being too late for the cars, the largo clock shows there are still twenty minutes to gather up pack- ages, to examine anew the checks, to ar- range the tickets so conspicuously that the conductor can see them, and to bid a final adieu to friends you are to leave behind. But hero I must describe two of the many passengers bound from Canada to the States. Standing in a corner of tho depot, is a girl apparently of eighteen years. She is attired in tho simplest manner. With a trav- elling dress of brown Thibet having little breadth of skirt, with sack and hat of the same color, with a heavy shawl across her arm, and a covered basket on the window- sill near her, she would scarcely arrest the attention of any one. A thin brown gauze veil had partially bidden from her fellow-travellers her pale, THE STATION-HOUSE. 11 agitated countenance, but suddenly snatch- ing it off to answer her white-haired ser- vant, the sight of her distress moved one heart among the many around her. "I almost wish I'd never thought of going," she exclaimed in a low, sweet voice as an old man put a check into her hand. "I shall be so very far away, and if any- thing should happen to him! Oh, Warner! what if he should die; and I never see him again ! " " Hugh ! miss ! " faltered the man, making a violent effort to control himself. "You're a bit nervous; or you wouldn't give way when you've held out so bravely. I'd rather live on one meal a day than to have you go out by yourself to seek your fortune ; but as you've decided, and master has given his consent, perhaps you'll make a trial for a few months. If you don't succeed, " 12 LEELINAU. U I shall succeed," she retorted, with an astonishing change in her tone. "There is no doubt of my success; but, my father, if I could only carry him with me." She eaw that Warner's courage was giv- ing way ; and putting her gloved hand on his shoulder, she added, with a bright smile: "In a fortnight or less, you'll hear that I'm engaged as governess in some rich family, Creoles perhaps. There is no tel- ling how much I shall earn; and then you'll bring father on to me. I leave everything with you. I don't forget what a dear faithful old creature you've been; how yon've carried me miles in your arms and " "Ah! that was in good old England," in- terrupted the man, between a sigh and a sob. At this moment there was an unusual THE STATION-HOUSE. 13 bustle; and our young traveller glanced around with a frightened air, as if she fearod she would lose her seat. " There are ten minutes yet/' remarked a voice near her. " Thank you, sir. I thought they were all going." "Your young lady is alone, I see," added the gentleman, in a calm, rather cold ad- dress. "I have taken tickets to Boston, and from thence I go direct through Washington to the South. If I can be of service here is my card," presenting it to the mau, who passed it to his young mistress. She did not even glance at it, but fixed her dark brown eyes keenly on the gentleman's face. After an instant, as if satisfied with the survey, she exclaimed eagerly: "Isn't New Orleans in the same direction? I'm going there." "Yes; and I believe it is time we were 14 LEELIKAtJ. taking our seats. "Will you givo your young lady to my care as far as we journey together ? " he asked with a grave smile. Warner hesitated, gazing at the stranger as if he would read him through and through. " I honor you for your caution," added the gentleman, more hurriedly. " If there were time, I think I could convince you that 1 should regard such a trust as sacred ; but as there is not, I can only say that I am an Eng- lishman, and that I will do for your friend as i would wish you to do for mine, wero our circumstances reversed." " I accept your offer, sir," responded the white-haired man, " and may the God of her father reward you according to the kindness you show an unprotected girl." Without another word the gentleman trans- ferred the lady's shawl to his own arm, bal- anced the basket on his finger, and led the way toward the cars, where, the gate being THE STATION-HOUSE. 15 unlocked, the passengers were new crowding in earnest. " Good-by," faltered the young girl, with a burst of tears. " Tell father to pray for me. Oh "Warner ! I trust you to do everything for him. Don't forget your promise about writing." "All aboard ! " shouted the conductor. In another minute our traveller was seated in the car, her shawl folded, and packed into the rack above her, the basket at her feet ; but she seemed unconscious of anything ex- cept the fact that at last she had entered on the stage of life, had launched out from the quiet waters in which for eighteen summers she had rowed her barque, into the ocean whose currents were ever widening and deepening. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed ; and still she sat with her face buried in her hands. Now that it was too late to go back, she would 16 LEELINAtf. have given worlds to do so, to rush into her deserted room, tear off her bonnet, and then throw her anna around her father's neck. She imagined his delight, and the tenderness with which ho would fold her to his heart. "Father! father!" she heard herself ex- claim; "I've come back, I can't leave you; it would kill me. I will try to find something here which will gain us bread ; and we will trust in God for the rest." " Can I do any thing to make you more comfortable, Miss ? " Edith started with a little cry of pain ; the awakening to present realities was too sud- den. In answer to the polite inquiry of her companion, she turned upon him a face so stamped with suffering that he was startled. She shook her head, trying in vain to speak ; and he was rather annoyed at having placed himself in such a situation : wondering what he ought to say, he relapsed into silence. THE STATION-HOUSE. 17 But his question did Edith good. It roused her from the vain regrets which had almost overwhelmed her. " I cannot go back," she repeated to herself over and over. " I have voluntarily undertaken to provide my father with a home more congenial than this cold climate. After months of urging I have con- quered his reluctance ; and shall I falter now ? No 1 no, indeed 1 " The gentleman, sitting by her side, felt her form shake, as, with a resolve to go forward, trusting in help from above, she indulged her- self in the luxury of tears. But before he could frame any remark suited to comfort and soothe her, the agitation began to subside. She drew from her pocket a tiny volume ; and rapidly turning the leaves, she paused upon one page. Glancing over her hand, her companion read the words at the top ; "October 1," then underneath a verse from Scripture : " Let not 18 LEELIXAU. your heart be troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in me." Presently she shut the book and returned it to her pocket; her struggle was over; and, with God's help the victory won. "I have tried to do right," she said to herself; "and I may take Christ's comforting words to myself. Yes, I do believe in God as a gracious Father who orders all things well for those who love him. I do believe with all my heart in the love of my dear Saviour ; though I forsake all earthly friends I do not forsake him; he goes with me. Then let me remember his words: "Let not your heart be troubled." To the gentleman's great relief, Edith turned to the window, and was attracted by the fine view. Heretofore her thoughts had been turned inward ; now she began to real- ize that gratitude for the kindness of the stranger prompted some return of his civili- ties. THE STATION-HOUSE. 19 " Pardon me, sir," she commenced, but sud- denly checked herself on perceiving that while she had been enjoying the prospect, the gentleman had purchased the morning pa- per from a boy going through the cars, and was perusing its columns. He glanced in her face calmly, waiting for her to go on. ' I'm afraid I have I fear my grief at parting from my home has made me appear ungrateful. I am truly glad to accept your protection. I have never travelled alone before." "It is a long journey for one so young. Are you going to remain in New Orleans through the winter?" "Yes, sir, I expect to. I hope to. I am going to teach music." " Ah ! May I ask whether you have a place engaged ? " "No sir!" in a saddened tone. "I wish 20 LEELINAU. I had. Do you think it will bo difficult to secure a situation ? " " Ilave you friend.s to assist you ? " " I know a lady who went from Montreal aa governess to some wealthy Creoles ; but my letters to her have remained unanswered of late ; and I fear I shall not find her. I am acquainted with no one else in all the South." " I regret to say that I am also a stranger there." CHAPTER II. THE TRAVELLERS. j|T is natural for youth to be over- whelmed with sorrow at what could be very calmly endured in riper years ; and it is also natural for youth to shake off its sadness, and enjoy the happiness of the pres- ent moment, so it must not be considered strange if Edith, though only a few hours parted from the father who was her only kin this side the Atlantic, should exhibit the buo> ancy of her nature, in seizing every opportu- nity for enjoyment. The third seat in front of hers was occupied by a 3*oung couple, who, it was easy to con- jecture, were on their wedding tour. The young man waa apparently just entering his cw 22 LEELINAtl. majority, and his companion three or four years his junior. When Edith began to no- tice them, the husband, if such he was, was trying to prevail with his wife to rest her head on his shoulder for a nap, which, having been roused at an unusually early hour, Edith realized would be a luxury ; but with a, blush and shy glance around the cars, the girl-bride resolutely declined. lie had bought a paper of the news-boy, and held it before him ; but it was easy to see, his mind was not absorbed in the reading. The lady unlocked her carpet-bag, and taking from it an apple, proceeded to pare it, putting one mouthful between her own lips, and the next between his. Two or three rich cakes shared the same fate ; and Edith, now quite forgetful of herself, was smiling in sympathy with their delight, when the Custom House officer came into the cars to demand the keys for the inspection of baggage. THE TRATELLEfcS. 23 " I have one trunk, marked ' E. Colches- ter ; ' " Edith said shyly, as the officer in turn stopped opposite her seat. Most of the gentlemen had arisen, and fol- lowed to the baggage-room, preferring not to give up their keys. The poor girl reluctantly drew hers from her pocket, greatly annoyed at the necessity of having her trunk exposed to the view of strangers, when her companion noticed her flushed, anxious face. " Is the demand absolute ? " he inquired of the grum officer. " Absolute." " Will you trust your key with me, Miss ? " he asked, gravely. " Thank you ; " putting it into his nicely gloved hand. "There is no trouble," he remarked, re- turning presently. " The officer has enougfr to do to examine the bridal trousseau of our 24 LEELINAtJ. neighbors," glancing toward the young lady in front of them. " It is extremely annoying ; but we shall have no more of it." Edith had improved the opportunity while he was awaj 1 -, to examine the card he had given Warner. The name engraved upon it was "BROOKS D. WALLINGFORD." It is awkward for him to be always address- ing me as Miss, was her quick reflection ; and she hastily wrote her own name, " EDITH COL- CHESTER," on a blank card. He accepted it with a grave smile, held it a moment before his eyes, then opened his porte-monnaie, and laid it carefully within. When the gentlemen were again seated, the Custom House officer reappeared ; and, pointing to the carpet-bags in the racks, he signified that he wished to examine them. Some of the passengers growled ; others swore, while still others showed their wisdom by submitting to what couldn't be avoided. THE TRAVELLERS. 25 With an expression of intense disgust, Mr. Wallingford unlocked his bag, and held it out for inspection ; and Edith with a smile and a blush followed his example. The officer merely glanced at the inside without touch- ing either of them. But their neighbors did not escape so easily. He turned half the con- tents of a well-stuffed valise upon the floor, and tumbled them in again without a word, when the bride catching up a well worn Bible thrust it in his face, inquiring, with an arch smile: " Don't you want to examine this ? " Edith watched all these proceedings with intense interest ; and when the officer passed on, exclaimed eagerly : " It's too bad : but I'm glad she had a Bible. I know she is good." "Do you consider that a safe conclusion, Miss Colchester." " Certainly." 26 LEELINAtJ. Shy as she had been before, her reserve in- creased after this ; and Mr. Wallingford was sure he had sunk in her estimation by his question. The iron horse had now carried them below St. Albans ; and Edith, gazing from the win- dow, was in a ecstasy of delight. In the dis- tance she could discern Mount Mansfield, its top capped with snow ; then a turn in the road led them over a deep gorge, the dark rushing waters underneath ; and before she could have time to fix it in her memory, they were winding along by the side of a peaceful riv- er, whose glassy surface was reflecting the bright October sun. "This is enchanting," exclaimed Mr. Wal- lingford, putting the blind up as far as it would go. "I had no idea of such scenery in this vicinity." "It's too bad to be shut up and only catch a glimpse of it," answered Edith. TKE TRAVELLERS. 27 The gentleman rose at once, and went to the rear end of the car. " If you don't object to a change of seat," he said, returning after a few minutes, " a fine view is to be had from the back of the car. The conductor assures me the view is fine, for twenty miles along our route." Edith started at once, and found that the conductor had not deceived them. Perhaps the pleasure was more keen because wholly unexpected ; but the impressions of the next few hours she never forgot. An ardent lover of nature, it was not strange that her check flushed, and her eye kindled, as they rushed on past the rolling land, cas- cades tumbling frcm the heights. an occa- sional spire, its top gliotening like burnished silver, wooded hills decked in holiday at- tire of crimson and gold ; and deep dark ra- vines ; now a log hut, then a neat farm-house, herds of horses and cattle, browsing on the 28 LEELINAU. fertile plains; large fields of golden pump- kins. Now a lake dotted with islands. Cam- el's Rump mountain, Sunday mountain, Fair- lee mountain ; then a peaceful village with ita church and school-houses, followed by patches of cultivated land, and variegated by the brown, sandy soil of the heights above. They had taken seats in the back of the rear car; but Edith grew so excited she sprang to her feet with the eager question : " May I stand at the door window, Mr. Wal- lingford ? Oh, may I ? The view will be so much better." " I see no objection," and rising ho placed himself at her side. The conductor, an intelligent man, present- ly joined them ; and smiling in approval of Edith's animated countenance, offered to tell them the names of the mountains they wore passing. At two o'clock when they were approach- THE TRAVELLERS. 20 ing White River Junction, Edith sank on her seat in a state of great exhaustion. " Oh! " she said penitently, "how I have en- joyed it. I didn't think this morning I could ever be so happy again. Dear Father, I sup- pose he imagines me weeping at the separa- tion. " Her voice gave evidence of real distress, and her companion hastened to ask : "Wouldn't it give him pleasure to know that you were not insensible to the beauties of nature ? It always seemed easy to me to worship God through his works. " Ldith fixed her eyes on his face with a searching glance, then with a sigh of relief added: " I'm so glad. " A curious smile played around the gentle- man's mouth ; but before he had time to reply if lie had wished to do so, the cars slackened their speed ; and the conductor, putting his hoad inside the door, shouted : 30 LEELINAU. " Passengers for Boston, twenty minutes for dinner. " Mr. Wallingford rose at once. " I have lunch in my basket," said Edith blushing, " I have enough for you if you will join me. " " Thank yon, " he answered gravely, " would it rest you to walk a few minutes ? and per- haps you could take a cup of coffee. We could eat our lunch afterward. " " I have been standing so long, " she began. lie bowed, and was off before she could fin- ish her sentence. After five minutes he came to the win- dow, and passed her a cup of coffee. " I am sorry, sir, " she urged ; " but I never drink coffee. I have a bottle of milk in my basket. " " Can I get }~ou anything else. " " No, sir, oh no ! " He icturned at once, after paying for the THE TRAVELLERS. 31 coffee which he himself drank, and when the passengers hurried to their seats, he and Edith were chatting merrily over their but- tered rolls and cold chicken. When they had finished, the young girl opened the bottle of milk, and pouring half the contents into a small silver cup shyly held it out to her companion. He raised it to his lips with a laugh, and then returned it to her. " I'm fond of milk, " she said, and drained every drop. " The basket is much lighter Miss Colches- ter, " the gentleman said, bestowing it be- tween his feet. ' Are you not sorry you invited me to a share of your feast ? " A gay laugh was her only answer. " She has a light heart with all her load of care, " mused Mr. Wallingford relapsing into silence. He was a lonely man with few near kindred, and wondered much to find his soli- 32 LEELIXAU. tude broken so readily by a mere child as he considered Edith. In his inmost soul he ac- knowledged it was very delightful. "A gen- erous deed, " he repeated to himself, " brings its own reward. I was prompted by the merest compassion, to offer her my protection. I foresee the companionship of a fresh, ardent mind will relieve the tedium of my journey." CHAPTER III. THE SCRIPTUEE MOTTOES. T Bellows Falls the cars were delayed so that our travellers did not reach Boston till half past nine o'clock. For the last hour or two Edith had slept. Between them, the rolls, chicken, sandwiches and tarts had disappeared, and now startled by the slackening speed, she longed to be in some quiet room where she could rest. " Where shall I go ? " she asked in some trepidation, looking out into the darkness. "Is there a hotel or boarding house near by?" " I have ascertained that the Tremont is a good house. I will get a hack ; and we shall drive there in a few minutes." C33) 34 LEELINAU. She wanted to thank him; but something restrained her, and taking his offered arm, she walked the entire length of the depot to the deserted Ladies' Room. " I shall be absent but a moment, to find the trunks, " he said, hurrying away. In less than half an hour the civil waiter at the Tremont informed Miss Colchester that her room was ready ; and as she had positive- ly declined taking refreshment, she rose to follow him. Mr. Wallingford stood waiting to bid her good night. After a moment's hesitation she frankly extended her hand. " I wish father knew, " she exclaimed with a burst of feeling, " how kindly my heavenly Father has watched over me so far. I have a verse for every day, and the one for this day has come so true. I can't tell you, sir, how grateful I am. What could I .have done alone ? " THE SCRIPTURE MOTTOES. 35 " Will yon let me share your verse to-mor- row ? " This was his good night. She bowed her glad assent and hurried away. The room was small but neatly furnished, indeed everything about the house wore an air of comfort. After locking and bolting the door, Edith laid aside her hat, and threw her- self on her knees by the side of the bed, her heart swelling as she thought : " Oh ! how much I have to be grateful for. " With streaming eyes she implored the continuance of God's blessing on herself that she might be successful in earning means to provide her dear father a comfortable home in his declin- ing years. She prayed that he and his faith- ful servant might be preserved from sickness or calamity during their separation, and be permitted to meet ere long. Nor did she forget to supplicate blessings on him who had been her kind protector through the day. 36 LEELINAU. She prayed that if he had not already chosen Christ for his friend, he might no longer de- lay to do so. Then committing herself and all dear to her to the care of her heavenly Father, she laid her head on the pillow, and was soon quietly sleeping. Probably by this time, my readers may wish to know something more of Mr. Walling- ford's appearance and character. In stature he was tall and commanding ; his manners were grave, dignified, perhaps cold, though the occasional smile that lightened his whole face, proved that his feelings were deep and ar- dent. His features were peculiar, and would excite attention in the most casual observer. His complexion was dark but clear, indeed had not Edith heard from his own lips that he was an Englishman, she would have believed him a Spaniard or Italian. His eyes were dark and piercing, with a wide space be- tween them. His hair was black and shiny THE SCRIPTURE MOTTOES. 37 as a raven's wing, his nose, quite a prominent feature, was straight and handsomely formed, his lips were full and mobile, his chin, which was closely shaven, square and firm. His mouth was ornamented with two rows of ex- quisite teeth. The tout ensemble was good, and gave one the impression of a man of honor, vrhich he was. The next morning Edith was awakened by the gong, and about an hour later a chamber- maid knocked at her door, to say that Mr. "Wallingford was waiting in the parlor to ac- company her to the breakfast table. "I see you have rested well," he said, cordially taking her frankly offered hand. " After breakfast I will tell you what I have learned about our route to New Orleans. " " I have something to tell you, too, " she added between a smile and a blush. " Now, " he urged when they had returned to the parlor, which at this early hour was 38 LEELINAU. quite deserted, "I wish to ask whether you prefer to go to New Orleans by water or by land ? " " I'm afraid, I mustn't act according to my pleasure, Mr. Wallingford. I must consult my purse, and take the cheaper route. Here is all I have ; " putting the netted article into his hands. He balanced the purse on his finger with a peculiar smile and then asked : "Shall I keep it for you?" With a confidence that really moved him, she answered : " Yes, sir, if you will take the trouble. It contains one hundred and twenty dollars, the results of my teaching for six months. I hope to make it last till I get a situation in New Orleans. Don't you think it will?" "Without doubt; but why do you prefer New Orleans? I should think Savannah would be preferable. I have a friend in Sa THE SCRIPTUEE MOTTOES. 39 vannah, who I am sure would interest him- self in you. He is a clergyman, too, and has daughters near your age. " After reflecting a moment Edith answered seriously : " I wish I knew what was best. My only motive in fixing on New Orleans was the fact of my friend having been successful there ; but I may never see her again ; and then I should be all alone in a great city. No, I ought not to say alone, " she murmured devoutly. " You may certainly count on my not leav- ing you until you are provided for, " he re- marked, misunderstanding her. A vivid blush spread all over her counte- nance as she answered quickly, " I referred to Him who has said to his children, ' I will be with thee alway, even to the end of the world. ' But about my destination, I fear you will be vexed that you met us in Montreal Poor Warner was so anxious. " 40 LEELINAU. " It is not easy to displease me, " remarked Mr. Wallingford, rising and pacing the room, "but you can do so by reflections of that nature. It is plain that you are a novice in travelling, and do not understand how much it adds to the comfort of a gentleman, not to say to his importance, to have the company of a lady. It gives him the privilege of the best cars, and a seat among the first set at the table d'hote. " Edith laughed heartily. " I would like to leave you with my friends in Savannah, " he urged presently. " It is much more healthy than New Orleans, and far more easy of access for your father. We can, if you think best, go to New York in the boat to-night and take the first steamer for that city. That will give us a whole day tc visit the Boston lions. " "Isn't it very expensive staying in such 9 house as this ? " SCRIPTURE MOTTOES. 41 "Having given up your purse. Miss Col- chester, I advise you to feel no further care on the subject. You forget that I dined and took supper at your expense yesterday. " " No, I do not," with an arch smile. " I en- joyed so much having some one to eat with me." She walked to the window and stood gazing into the street ; but her thoughts were evidently not on the passers by. After a few minutes he joined her. " Do you know," he asked, "that you have for- gotten a promise you made me last night?" "No, sir." " You said I might share your text for October second." With a bright smile she pulled from her pocket the volume of Scripture gems, and turning to the place read aloud: " The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them." 42 LEELINAU. " I read it as soon as I awoke, " she said artlessly; "but I thought you would forget about it." He shook his head and looked very grave. He was asking himself, "Why have I never sought the shield of God's promises, which are so sure a defence for this unprotected girl?" Edith gazed in his face a moment, and then interrupting his meditations, said ea- gerly : " I believe in you Mr. Wallingford. Yes, I do, though I know nothing of you except what I learned from this card. I'm sure you will only advise me for my good. I'll go to Savannah if you think it best; and my father will join me in thanking you for your kindness. But wont it be out of your way to go there? Couldn't you give me a letter to your friend?" THE SCRIPTUBE MOTTOES. 43 The entrance of some travellers pre- vented his reply to her question. Her confidence had deeply moved him, and he resolved never to forfeit it. "I shall take tickets for New York then," he said, " and order a carriage for a drive around the city." "If you please, I had rather walk, Mr. Wallingford. " "Without any reference to the purse?" "Yes, sir." "When we return, will you give me an opportunity to judge of your qualifi- cations for a music teacher?" "I will play for you now, while we are alone." The travellers had passed down the stairs, when he lifted the cover of the large piano standing in the room. "What will you do for notes, Misa Colchester?" 44 LEELINAU. "I must play something I can remem- ber; or perhaps compose a waltz, in honor of Boston." She glanced in his face with an arch smile. "I had rather hear you sing." "Are you very fond of music?" She asked this question as she ran her fingers over the keys; but finding the tone of the instrument uncommonly sweet, she was presently absorbed in her own music, so absorbed as to forgot everything else. One piece followed another in quick succession, each more sad and full of pathos, until at last she poured out her whole soul in the words of Eve's lament: "Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?" "Who is she?" "Where did she come from?" were the whispered inquiries of one and another who had been attracted to the parlor, by her rich, clear voice. THE SCRIPTURE MOTTOES. 45 For one moment Edith leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, then rising she walked across the parlor to the window, where Mr. Wallingford stood, and touching his arm asked: "Shall I get my hat now?" He started at her changed appearance. Her face was of an ashy hue, her lips even being colorless. It was evident that her music had moved her own feelings, if it had affected no other listener. He took her hand gravely, as if she had been a child and remarked briefly: "You are ill." "No; but I was tempted to indulge myself. It was too much for me. I must forget the past." "'Let not your heart be troubled.' Was not that your motto yesterday?" he asked. Her eyes filled with tears; but with a 46 LEELINAU. resolute effort she commanded herself and choked them back. "Thank you," was her softly murmured reply; and she left him, making a pass- ing bow to the salutations of the ladiea whc had heard her sing. CHAPTER IV. LOOKING UNTO JESUS. ^HEY walked on in the direction of the Common without speaking, and after turning into the maU, Mr. Wallingford paused, trying to recall the instruction he had received in reference to the lake. "Oh," faltered Edith with a sigh, "how little those ladies imagine my situation, a wanderer from my father's house, sep- arated forever from the scenes of my childhood, my dear, dear home across the sea." He felt her form tremble and dre\v her arm more firmly into his; but ig- norant of all the circumstances of her 48 LEELINAU. past life he knew not how to comfort her. The silence became almost intolera- ble to him when she added: "how little people know of what passes behind the curtain." Just before them a nurse was leading two lovely children. One of them, a pret- ty blonde with golden hair and deep blue eyes, looked around archly as if trying to court attention. " Oh ! " cried Edith, springing forward, "isn't she a darling? Will you let me kiss you, dear?" - The little Miss submitted with a good grace, and afterward insisted on leaving the nurse and walking with her new friend. "Does it annoy you to walk so slowly, Mr. Wallingford ? " Edith asked, noticing his serious expression. " I suppose the child mistakes me for some acquaintance; LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 49 but it is delightful to have her like me ; it warms my heart, I have so few friends in America." "I shall always thank the little one for doing what I had no power, to do." "What is that, pray?" "Win you from your sadness to bright- er views of life." At this moment the nurse wished to turn in another direction, and called out in a decided tone : " Rose ! Rose ! you must come with me now." So Rose held up her cherry lips for another kiss, and trotted away with her little brother. " I'm sorry you think me sad, Mr. Walling- ford. I assure you my disposition is very hopeful. Witness the fact that I'm here in the States, hundreds of miles from my home, and willing to increase the distance by thou- 50 LEELINAU. sands of miles more ; and all because hope stands in the distance beckoning me on. Oh, I'm uncommonly hopeful ! " I'm a firm believer in goodness too," she added, as he did not speak, " so much so that I came near throwing my arms about an old lady I saw at the breakfast-table this morning. I feel confident she would have given me good advice, very like a mother. My mother died just when I needed her most." The last words were uttered so sadly, her companion feared she was lapsing into melancholy again; but she instantly recovered herself, and went on quite gayly. "Yes, I believe with Douglas Jerrold, that ' there is goodness, like wild honey, hived in strange nooks and corners of the earth.' Have you a mother, Mr. Walling- ford?" He started at the unexpected question, LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 51 and almost dropped her arm, but replied at once : " I'm on my way to see her. I've been debating with myself for the last hour whether it would be good for you to hear a story sadder than your own, whether you would like a peep behind my curtain." " And what is your conclusion ? " she inquired, gazing at him with new in- terest. " That I cannot throw such a cloud over your young life." "I Avould like to comfort you if I can," murmured Edith, glancing in his agitated face with moistened eyes; "but if I cannot, you know where to go for consolation. I will lend you both my mottoes. Yes, and I can repeat another that my father made me commit to memory years ago : " ' Affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the 52 LEELIXAU. ground.' 'Behold happy is the man whom God correcteth ; therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty.' " "But what if I have only the belief of the understanding in these truths? What if I have never opened my heart to their influence ? " "Then God is afflicting you to bring you to repentance, faith and love. Don't you remember the verse, 'Now no chastening ior the present is joyous, but rather griev- ous; nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them that are exercised thereby ' ? But why have you never opened your heart to Christ's invitation ? ' Behold I stand at the door and knock. If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in unto him, and will sup with him, and he with me.' " "I have never satisfactorily answered that question to myself." LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 53 " I wish you would believe, not only with the understanding, but with your whole heart. I don't know what I should do if I could not apply to myself God's gracious promises to his children. In my sorrow there is no comfort like that." " Tell me how to obtain that comfort." " Why it's the easiest thing in the world. Christ came to this earth to take our burden of sin, and to give us his right- eousness instead. Don't you consider your- self a sinner before God ? " " Like Paul, I am often constrained to cry out, ' I am the chief of sinners.' " " And don't you understand that Jesua Christ is ready to pardon your sins? " " Yes, I know that in the abstract ; but there is some mysterious process to be passed through, before I can stand forth us justified before God." "Yes, it is mysterious. We may under- 54 LEELINAU. stand in heaven ; but we cannot here ; how it is that a guilty soul can, in a mo- ment of time, pass from the deepest con- demnation to tho light and privileges of a son of God : but thousands who cannot Bolve the mystery, have accepted Christ's offer in faith, and are happy." Mr. Wallingford shook his head, turning impatiently from the walk, which was be- coming crowded, down an unfrequented path. "I am blind, and cannot see," he said solemnly. " I am afraid it is your own fault. Just so, some of the poor Israelites in the wilderness would not look upon the bra- zen serpent to be healed of their wounds. There it was just before them; and they were commanded to look and be saved ; but they kept their eyes closed, and said, * We are blind, we cannot seo." LOOKING UNTO JESU3. 55 "Explain the analogy." " The brazen serpent was a type of Christ 5 those bitten represent sinners ; they would not look to him, just as you will not accept him as your Mediator with the Father, though he has given his life to obtain a ransom for you. No, you are trying to get into heaven some other way. He says, 'Look unto me, and be saved.' " Glancing in his face, she was frightened at the convulsed features. She feared she had offended him, and wanted to run away, to be in her own room, and beseech God to draw him by his gracious Spirit. Back and forth they paced hurriedly, until their singular movements began to attract notice. Then, trembling with fear and awe, Edith, by a pressure of his arm, turned her companion toward home. They separated at the door of the par- 56 LEELINAU. lor without a word, each of them retiring to their room. Two, three hours passed, and the din- ner-bell rang long and loud; but no sum- mons came for Edith from Mr. Walling- ford. At last, faint and weary with pro- longed excitement, the young girl rang the bell, and asked for a cup of tea in her chamber. She was breaking the roll which accompanied it, when a servant brought Mr. "Wallingford's card. " The gentleman is waiting in the parlor, Miss." Edith gave him the tray, and went down at once. A single glance assured her that her friend had found peace. "I'm so glad," she said softly. " I cannot explain now," he remarked, "I can only say that whereas I was once blind to the infinite glories of my Saviour's character, now I see." LOOKING UNTO JESUS 67 He gave her his arm, and they took seats at the table, which fortunately was by this time nearly deserted. " The car which takes us to the boat leaves at five," he said, when they were about to rise. "We have forty-five min- utes to reach the depot." He put some silver into the waiter's hand, then turned back to Edith, and did not leave her till she reached the door of her room. "How soon shall I send for your trunk, Miss Colchester?" " It is all ready now." "Will you come to the parlor when you have put on your hat?" On reaching New York, they went at once to the Astor House, where Mr. Wai- lingford learned that the steamer to Savan- nah, did not sail till Saturday. As this was 68 LEELINATT. only. Thursday morning, they had time to visit many places of interest in the Empire city and its vicinity. Having breakfasted and rearranged her toilet, Mr. Wallingford requested Miss Col- chester to try the large piano in the parlor of the hotel. She rose at once to comply with his re- quest, played and sung several pieces, ending with the anthem from the Messiah: " I know that my Redeemer lives." Before she had concluded, the spacious room was half filled with persons drawn thither by the wonderful powers of her voice. " Who is she ? " " Can she be the new prima donna ? " " What passion ! " " What expression ! " " How wholly she enters into the sentiment of her song ! " These and many other remarks proved that her audience appreciated the music. LOOKING UNTO JESU3. 59 One gentleman advanced to Mr. Wallingford, and giving him his card requested an in- troduction to the lady. After a moment's hesitation, the English- man repeated the stranger's request, when Edith rose at once from the piano, and bowed in acknowledgment of the compli- ment. "I am an ardent lover of music, espe- cially of the human voice divine," remarked Mr. Lawronce; "and I have a particular fancy not often gratified, which is, that I like to be able to distinguish the words of the singer. I congratulate you, Miss Col- chester, on your distinct enunciation." The pretty color came and went on Edith's cheek as she answered frankly: "I am glad, sir, that I have been able to give you pleasure. I love to sing." CHAPTER V. A FAITHFUL FRIEXD. HE remainder of the forenoon was passed in visiting the cemetery at Greenwood, and the Navy Yard. After dinner a quiet walk allowed our travellers an opportunity of discussing those high and holy themes, which of all others were now dearest to their hearts. They met again at the tea-table, when Mr. Law- rence introduced his wife and daughter to the strangers, and begged the young lady to exercise her vocal powers in the evening for their entertainment. "With a quick glance at Mr. "Wallingford, Edith answered: "We are going to service in the Trin- (60) A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 61 ity Church. If there is time afterward, I will sing with pleasure." " I'm so glad they like to hear me," exclaimed the young girl when they were on their way to church. ' Don't you think I can earn money to support my father?" "Without a doubt." "Before I I mean beforo I had begun to reflect upon religion, T used to think I would sing in public. 1 knew I should be frightened at first; but when I have once commenced. I forget everything. I wouldn't be sensible, if the whole world were present. Papa used to laugh, and say a child of his should never go upon the stage." "You are the last one I should imag- ine fitted for such a life. I cannot even fancy you standing behind the footlights." He laughed, and Edith joined him. 62 LEELINAU. "But do you really think, Mr. "Walling- ford, that it is wrong for a lady to use her talents in public, if she have a good motive for doing so. Suppose, for in- stance, a lady could read tolerably well, do you think it unmaidenly for her to earn money by reading in public?" "I should feel very sorry to have a sister of mine exposed to such a trial." " Oh, I'm sorry you speak so seriously I You are just like papa, who is always affirming that any notoriety and publicity, brushes, the bloom from a lady's cheeks, and destroys the nice delicacy which is the chief ornament of her sex." "I entirely agree with Mr. Colchester." "Now that's too bad," said Edith, half laughing. " I can read quite well ; and I love it almost as well as singing. I have had such a nice plan for adding a little to my stock of money. Indeed, Mr. A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 63 Wallingford, I think you and papa are quite old fashioned in your notions. How am I to earn a pleasant home for papa unless I attract notice from the public?" Instead of answering this question, Mr. Wallingford asked another: "Why don't you return to England?" Edith's lashes drooped over her eyes while her lip quivered like a grieved child. "It is a sad story of oppression and wrong," she murmured. "I do not like to think of it. Poor mamma sunk under our repeated afflictions ; and papa could not endure to stay where " She paused, choking back a sob ; but presently added : " It is much better to suffer than inflict wrong; and if I can only earn money it will be all right." Trinity Church has long been noted for the enchanting music which forms an im- portant part of the service. 64 LEELINAU. Mr. Wallingford was greatly interested in watching the beaming face of his com- panion as the rich, full voices chanted the parts of the service ; but when the hymn was given out in which the audi- ence was expected to join, he acknowl- edged with secret delight that not one of the choir had a voice which in com- pass or sweetness could compare with hers. On the way home he said archly, "You are such a money-making maiden, that I will suggest one way in which to help fill your purse." "Yes, I want to make all the money I can, so please tell me quick." "I will ask my friend to get you ap- pointed in his choir. I have no doubt each of those ladies receive several hun- dred dollars a year ; for singing God's praise." A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 65 "No," exclaimed Edith warmly. "Much as I need money I should feel reluctant to receive pay for worshipping God. I know many good people do it; still I would prefer to render him my service only from a loving heart; but I want to ask you one thing as papa is not here." "Well?" " Perhaps you think it wrong for me to sing to-night in the parlor. Do you? I don't know how many will be there." " Certainly not. If I were invited to sing I might accompany you." " Oh, I should like that I Do you sing tenor or bass?" "I suppose modesty would suggest that I reply ' a little of both, or not much of eith- er/ but as I am talking with a confidential friend, I may be pardoned for saying that I can take any part you choose to assign me; but I forget we have no notea." 66 LEELINAU. " I will try to sing whatever you can remember." '' Repeat the words you sung this morn- ing, if you please." To Edith's surprise she found the parlors full of ladies and gentlemen impatiently awaiting her arrival. Miss Lawrence would scarcely give her time to run to her cham- ber and smooth her abundant tresses. " You have been away such a long time," she urged, "and papa has prepared us for a rich treat. I have brought all my music to the parlor for your use." The evening passed so quickly that all were surprised when a neighboring clock struck the hour of eleven. " Just one more, Miss Colchester," urged Miss Lawrence, and when she hesitated, she said archly, " Mr. Wallingford, plead with her for one more." "Shall I?" she asked, gazing in his A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 67 face as she would have done into her father's. "If you are not too tired," was his pleased reply. So she returned to the music stool for one more song, after which she made a motion to retire. In nothing which he had yet seen was Mr. Wallingford more pleased than by the simple, unaffected manner in which she re- ceived the flattering compliments of those present. " We must thank you, too, for Mr. Wai- lingford's fine bass," suggested one young girl, glancing archly in the direction of the gentleman. Yes, I enjoyed his singing exceedingly." Mr. Wallingford attended her to the door of her room, when seeing that no one was near, he said hurriedly : "I will not detain you; but can you not 68 LEELINAtl. give me a motto to-night? My joy is al- ready overcast, and I am beginning to fear I was deceived in thinking myself accepted of God. Whichever way I turn, my sins stare me in the face." "Do you love them so well you wish to take them back?" Unconsciously she seized his hand as she asked the question ; and in the dimly light- ed hall, he could see that every feature expressed the deepest sympathy. "No! ah, no!" "You still wish Christ to be your Sa- viour and friend. You trust the atone- ment he has made, and consider it sufficient to cover, even your sins." " "With all my heart and mind I believe that." "Then I will give you a motto for your comfort. ' There is therefore now no con- demnation to them which are in Christ A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 69 Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but af- ter the Spirit.'" "Will you not remember me in your prayers ? " " I am a poor, weak, erring girl, and oh, I need prayers so much myself!" She turned suddenly away to hide the tears she could not suppress, and without another word unlocked the door of her chamber and entered. The ladies and gentlemen who had lin- gered in the parlor to talk and wonder about the interesting couple, met Mr. Wal- lingford on the way back to his room ; and wondered still more at the marks of strong emotion on his usually calm face. The next morning, through the kindness of Mr. Lawrence, Mr. "Wallingford obtained a permit to visit the public institutions of the city. They took an early boat to Blackwell's Island, where they visited the 70 LEELINAF. insane asylum, the almshouses, and the pris- ons; and after a twelve o'clock lunch took a carriage to the asylums for the deaf and dumb, and the blind. As an Englishman and a stranger the gentleman was extremely interested in the humane mode of conducting these institu- tions, and expressed his pleasure in the most cordial manner. During the ride he informed Edith that her motto had been an unspeakable comfort to him that he spent a long time in searching for it in his pocket-Bible, and then read the whole chapter with profit, as he hoped. He also told her that he never should forget the faithfulness with which she had pressed him to yield his heart to God, ad- ding, with deep feeling: " I need not tell you I am a reserved man, naturally so," he repeated with em- A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 71 phasis. " But to one who lias been the means of leading me to the cross, I feel constrained to unburden my peculiar trials. I have a mission, Miss Colchester, a sa- cred mission. I would that it had devolved on one better fitted for it than I. Till the object for which I have come to America, is accomplished, I must not gratify the yearnings of a lonely heart." " When you think it best, you will tell me about it," rejoined Edith, with a con- fiding smile. " Of course I would like to know it ; especially if I can comfort you, as you have comforted me." " Sometime, if my life is spared, I will tell you what I think of your last remark. I am going into danger, and perhaps into death. May I not hope you will follow me with your prayers ? " The color faded from the sweet face be- fore him. Edith tried to answer, but could 72 LEELINAU. not trust her voice. She bowed assent, and then, turning toward the window of the carriage, seemed to be wholly absorbed in watching the crowded streets. Fortu- nately for her, they were just turning into Broadway; and in a few minutes they stopped at the door of the Astor House. " Will you go to the dining-room before tea ? " the gentleman asked. " Your lunch was very light." " No, sir. I must finish a letter to my father," and she was hurrying away, when he detained her. " Will you deliver a message for me ? " " Certainly." 4< Say to him that I advise you to go to Savannah; that, as a countryman and a fel- low Christian, I will protect you till you are comfortably situated in that city, and under the care of loving Christian friends, who will, I have no doubt, advance the object A FAITHFUL FRIEND. 73 for which you have left your friends and your home in Montreal." A flash of pleasure beamed in the young girl's eyes. " ily father will thank you," she exclaimed, earnestly. CHAPTER VI. DOUBT AND CONFLICT. T would be pleasant to linger on the passage from New York to Savan- nah ; but I must only sketch a few incidents which occurred, and hasten to more important events. The first night and the following day were rough ; and Edith kept her berth, hav- ing no companion but the bronze-colored stewardess, who was more than usually at- tentive. Edith never dreamed that Mr. Wallingford had paid her for extra service. On Monday he sent a message to her state-room, urging her to come on deck as the best means of conquering her sea- sickness; but she hesitated. She had taken (74) DOUBT AND CONFLICT. 75 time to reflect on their acquaintance, and though she did not distrust him, she dis- trusted her own heart. Ever since their ride in New York, she had been asking herself: "What do I know of Mr. Wallingford's former life, his home and kindred. After he leaves Savannah, I shall probably never see him again. He will accomplish his mission, difficult and even dangerous as it is ; for I can see he is a man who will overcome every obstacle in his path, and then return to England. He has been very kind to me ; but he might be just as kind to any traveller. I must school my heart in time." Poor Edith was deeply mortified and self abased when she reflected that she had be- gun to regard with unusual interest a man, whom for aught she knew, was a hus- band and father; and in her pride, resolved for the future to be on her guard. 76 LEELINAU. To his repeated invitations, therefore^ she returned answer that she was engaged in writing. Toward night, however, she felt the close confinement so injurious that she allowed the stewardess to help her to the saloon. It was almost deserted, the passengers having gone aft to watch the gorgeous clouds in the western horizon. The Captain presently passed and stopped to inquire for her health, then politely of- fered her his arm to follow the other passen- gers. The scene was beautiful beyond descrip- tion. Beneath a canopy of crimson, golden and amber clouds the sun was just fading out of sight, while all the splendor of the glorious coloring was reflected in the water underneath. " There it's gone ! " said Edi.th, having watched the scene with intense delight DOUBT AND CONFLICT. 77 Her voice startled a gentleman who stood beyond her, and who had not noticed her presence. It was Mr. Wallingford who in- stantly came to welcome her on deck. She blushed as she met his piercing eyes fixed full upon hers, and was intense- ly vexed with herself for betraying such emotion. " The Captain was kind enough to in- vite me out," she said by way of remark. Then the Captain's name was called and delivering his charge into the care of Mr. Wallingford he begged to be excused. " The stewardess told me you declined leaving your state-room, Miss Colchester." "I did; but I grew so weary, I used the privilege of a woman to change my mind." "Will you walk?" he asked, offering hia arm. "My head is scarcely steady enough." 78 LEELINAU. "I think the exercise will do you good." "He spoke like a man who was accus- tomed to have his suggestions regarded; and Edith, after a shy glance in his face, allowed him to lead her back and forth across the long deck. "You have been ill, too," she said, softly. " Not bodily ; and it is no new thing for me to have mental ailments." "More doubts?" she asked, smiling. "Yes, doubts, and internal conflicts, rea- son and affection struggling for mastery; the spirit warring against the flesh." In one moment Edith forgot all the barri- ers she had been setting up to guard her poor heart. She forgot everything in her desire to comfort her friend. "I suppose," she said, "that every Chris- tian since the days of Paul has gone though with similar conflicts. It does seem so won- derful that we, who have all our lives been DOUBT AND CONFLICT. 79 bending under a burden of sin, should at once find ourselves free from the load, we can scarcely realize it. I remember, too, only a few days after I hoped my sins had been pardoned, how discouraged I was to find that I still had a wicked heart prompting me to sin. Oh, it is true that in this world we are only partially sancti- fied, and like Paul when we would do good, evil is present with us ! But, Mr. Walling- ford, we ought to cling fast to the promise, 'Sin shall not have dominion over you.'" He remained silent; and Edith glancing in his face, saw that he was absorbed in reflections; and they seemed far from pleas- ant ones. "I think I shall have to give you an- other motto from St. Paul," she added, archly, "would you like it?" " Yes. Paul would have understood my case better than most men." 80 LEELINAU. " Well, it is this ; ' Forgetting the things that are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before.' " His countenance brightened. " Thank you," he said, earnestly ; " you are a skilful phy- sician ; first you probe the wound and you do it without shrinking; then you apply the balsam. Now you give me a power- ful tonic." The bell at this moment rang for supper, and Edith consented to take a seat at the table. Here, for the first time since she came on board, she met her fellow-passen- gers, and was pleased to find there was such an agreeable party. Mr. Wallingford's gloomy thoughts seemed for the time dis- pelled, and altogether, our young traveller began to feel that life on ship-board might bo very pleasant. On returning to the saloon, Mr. "Walling- ford sat down by Edith, but soon discovered DOUBT AND CONFLICT. 81 that she was trembling from the night air. He arose instantly to find the stewardess, and send her to Miss Colchester's state room for her shawl. While he was away, Edith noticed a small book lying on the sofa which must have dropped from his pocket. She picked it up, and looked at the fly-leaf. How painfully her heart beat, when she read the inscription, " B. Wallingford, a gift of love from his wife." She was so occupied in trying to keep down the tide of emotion caused by these simple words, that she did not notice his presence until he spoke ; then she threw the book away as if it had stung her. "He shall never know that I imagined him other than a married man," was her first resolve. For the rest of the evening, she was gayer than he had ever seen her. She talked about her favorite books, re- 82 LEELIXATJ. called and repeated scenes which had in- terested her, laughing gayly at the offi- cious care of the stewardess who came re- peatedly to look after her late charge ; and at last when singing was proposed was the first to rise and approach near the group around the piano. Her eager, beautiful countenance, and soul^ lit orbs, attracted attention from more than one ; and at last she confessed that she could sing. At another time she would have shrunk from the publicity of the place ; but now her whole aim was to show Mr. Wallingford that she was perfectly happy. She took her seat at the piano, where she played and sung several lively airs to the delight of her hearers. " I beg you not to exert yourself any more, Miss Colchester," urged Mr. Walling- ford, bending over her. "You must bo weary after your recent illness." DOUBT AND CONFLICT. 83 She rose at once, and accepted his arm to the door of the state-room, then with a quivering lip, thanked him for his care, and bade him good-night. Tuesday was rainy; and 'she did not leave her state-room. During the day the stew- ardess conveyed many kind messages to her from her anxious friend, urging his wish to do something for her comfort ; but she returned answer that her head ached, and rest always proved the best remedy. On Wednesday morning they hoped to land early enough to breakfast in Savan- nah. Edith had slept but little. Still she dressed herself, packing her carpet-bag, and making ready to go on shore. It was now thirty-six hours since she parted from Mr. Wallingford ; quite long enough, she argued, to conquer any secret disappointment in re- gard to one so lately a stranger. Wrapping her shawl around her, she 84 LEELINATT. went on deck, and seated herself near the stern of the boat. There was no appear- ance of land, unless a low dark line on the right should prove to be the shore. Her thoughts were sad; and the feeling was reflected on her expressive features, when she was startled by a voice close be- hind her. "You are early this morning, Miss Col- chester." The words were common-place ; but there was a tenderness in the tone, a soft light beaming from the piercing eyes, which roused her indignation. "He has no right to look at me in that way," was her instant reflection, as she quickly turned away to hide the provok- ing blush. He took a seat by her, and opening the small volume to which I have alluded asked her whether she was an admirer of Pollock. DOUBT AND CONFLICT. 85 " Not particularly," was her cool reply. He arose and began to walk the deck, still keeping his precious volume in sight. At last the cloud settling on his face cleared away ; and he returned to his seat. " It was a keen disappointment to me that you were so ill yesterday," he said. " I met with an adventure ; and I longed to explain it to you. I found a gentleman on board whom I was on my way to con- sult about the business to which I have referred. He is a Jesuit priest, who can, and I trust will give me information in regard to the mission which brought me to this country." For one moment Edith forgot her indig nation. Though she did not speak, her eyes expressed the interest his words ex- cited. Perhaps it was this circumstance which gave him courage to add, with deep emotion : 86 LEELTNAU. "Miss Colchester, I am a lonely man. I told you I was on my way to visit my mother. For twenty years she has been to me like one buried in the grave. Be- side her, I have not one near relative. Your faithfulness has formed a tie between us which death itself cannot sever. "Will you trust me a little longer, be my adviser and friend?" She gave him her hand. "Yes, I will trust you," she said, warmly. Before nine o'clock the passengers, dressed for landing, came crowding upon the deck. The bell rang, and the Captain invited all who wished, to breakfast on the steamer. Our friends were soon seated at the table, "the last perhaps," Edith said to herself, "that we shall take together." CHAPTER, VII. THE ENGLISHMAN'S STORY. NCE on shore, they drove directly to the hotel ; and then Mr. Wai- lingford started off in search of his friend. Two years previous to this time, Mr. Cahill, an Irish gentleman from the South, spent a winter with his wife in Rome; and here Mr. Wallingford made their ac- quaintance. An occasional correspondence had since been carried on, the latest news from the clergyman showing that he had been invited to a church in Savannah, and was now pleasantly situated in that city. Our traveller readily learned the street and number of Mr. CahiK's residence, and (87) 88 LEELINAU. was soon received by his old friends, with all the warmth for which the Southerners are so deservedly distinguished. Mrs. Cahill and her two daughters lis- tened to the story of Edith with flattering attention, and insisted that both she and Mr. Wallingford should remove their bag- gage instantly to the Rectory. " If she is half as accomplished as you described," replied Mr. Cahill, laughing, " I can get her a situation as organist, in our choir, which as late as Monday eve- ning was vacant. That will insure her six or seven hundred dollars. I will see the gentlemen appointed to select an organist, and beg them to delay until they have met your friend." " I have heard her express reluctance to receive pay for such services ; but I think she might be prevailed upon to ac- cept," returned Mr. Wallingford. THE ENGLISHMAN'S STORY. 89 "It would give me great pleasure to be introduced to a lady whom Mr. "Wallingford pronounces so charming/' exclaimed Mrs. Cahill, addressing her husband. " He gain- ed the character of extreme fastidiousness among the English ladies in Rome." " I only ask you to welcome Miss Col- chester as my friend," remarked the visitor, smiling. " I am sure you will wish to re- tain her friendship on your own account." "Hurry then and bring this marvel of perfection to us," laughed the lady, follow- ing Mr. Wallingford to the door. The gentleman found his travelling com- panion in the parlor of the hotel engaged in an earnest discussion with a stranger. On advancing nearer he found it was Fa- ther Rush the Jesuit who had agreed to meet him soon after they went on shore. "I came to say that it will be impossi- ble for me to accompany you on your tour 90 LEELINAU. till after the Sabbath," explained the Fa- ther. "I was inquiring for you at the bar; and this lady, who was passing through the hall, told me you would soon be here." " Where shall I call upon you, sir ? " " I shall put up at the Bishop's in Street." " Would it forward my object to send a copy of Father McCroix's letter to Father Greeny, and apprise him of our intended visit.?" " Yes. Direct to him at St. Louis." Mrs. Cahill received our young traveller with the affection of a mother. She was a woman of portly presence, lively manners and a large heart. Her husband, after scanning the young lady's features at the same time that he was carrying on a conversation with Mr. Wal- lingford, abruptly left the gentleman and put hifi daughter Nora's hand in Edith's. THE ENGLISHMAN'S STORY. 91 " I present to you your first music schol- ar," lie said, gayly ; and if you can per- suade Georgianna to keep quiet long enough, you may teach her too." "It is very kind for you to promise me your patronage," returned Edith, blushing deeply, " certainly until you have convinc- ed yourself of my skill." "Don't give him too much credit," cried Mrs. Cahill, laughing, as she patted Edith's hand. "We know Mr. Wallingford's nice ear too well to imagine he would bestow the high encomiums which he has given you unless you richly deserved them." At that moment Edith called to mind the fact, that he had never in her presence uttered one word of praise of her sing- ing. She was greatly vexed with herself for glancing at him, and still more that she could not meet his eye without blushea burning her cheek. 92 LEELIXAU. Mr. Wallingford dined with Iris old friends, and passed an hour or two after dinner in Mr. Cahill's study. When they returned to the parlor, he invited Edith to accompany him out on business. Though wondering what the business could be, she readily complied, when he instantly explained : " I have ascertained that there will be no difficulty in obtaining scholars enough to support your father in a comfortable manner. The applicant for organist in Mr. Cahill's church does not give entire satisfaction to the committee ; and at my friend's request they invite you to play, and sing for them next Sabbath. How would you like to send on for your father to come at once?" "Oh, Mr. Wallingford!" Edith clasped her hands in delight. "I see my plan would bo a good one. THE ENGLISHMAN'S STOBY. 93 Will he be able to start soon after your summons ? " "We have hired a furnished house; and Warner could underlet it I have no doubt." "That is settled then." Tears of gratitude and joy streamed from Edith's eyes ; but suddenly her countenance changed. " I'm afraid after all/' she faltered, " that I can't do it." "Why not?" " Papa insisted I should take every dol- lar I had earned for the expenses of my journey." "Is that all the trouble?" " Yes, sir ; but that is insurmountable. I must wait until I have earned a hundred dollars at least." "Miss Colchester, my faithful friend, my benefactress, will you consent to accept a loan from me ? " He placed her own purse 94 LEELINAU. in her baud ; but finding it was much heav- ier than when she gave it to his charge, she would not take it. " I cannot," she murmured, drawing up her form to its full height. " I should lose my own self-respect, were I to accept money from a " "Don't say stranger," he exclaimed, in- terrupting her. "You forget what your faithful exhortations have done for me. You have laid me under obligations which no wealth can ever pay. It would gratify me more than I can express, if you will allow me to advance sufficient for your fa- ther's journey." But Edith steadily declined, though she softened the refusal by saying, it was a principle with her not to run in debt. Mr. Wallingford took no pains to con- ceal his disappointment, but after walking in silence a few minutes he said : THE ENGLISHMAN'S STORY. 95 " I must wait then till I can explain myself more fully. Edith, will you listen to a sad tale?" He had never addressed her so familiarly before, and she was embarrassed to such a degree she could scarcely reply. " Until six months ago," he began, plung- ing at once into the subject, " I believed myself to be an orphan. On attaining my twenty-fifth birthday, I became legal heir of some property my father left me ; with his will I found a paper addressed to me, containing some startling facts concerning myself. I learned then that I had a mother, an Indian princess, daughter of the Pawnee chief Letelesha, and sister to the distin- guished brave Petalesharoo. My mother, whose Indian name is Leelinau, was married to rny father by Father Greeny, a Romish Priest, and lived happily with him until I had entered my fourth year. At that time 96 LEELINAU. he was summoned home by the sudden death of his father and older brother, the Brooks Wallingford for whom I was named, and who was the owner of the volume of Pollock you have seen me read. Owing to the unwillingness of the chief Letelesha to part with his daughter, and also her own reluctance to leave him, my father was constrained to leave her and my infant sister lona with her tribe, which he did with promises of a speedy return. "At that time my father was not a Christian in the strictest sense of the word. From his letters he appears to have been passionately attached to this beauti- ful princess, who was at the same time the pride of her father and the boast of the Pawnee tribe. On his return to Eng- land he found himself the owner of a large and valuable estate descending to h:'m the youngest son, on the decease of THE ENGLISHMAN'S STORY. 97 the other heirs; and it was impossible for him to return to America as soon as he wished. " Finding this to be the case, he made a confidant of a faithful servant who had been in the family thirty years, and sent him to the Indian Territory, where, near the river Platte, the Pawnees have their settlement. * " Rogers performed the mission, had repeated interviews with my mother, but found unhappily that her aversion to change of residence had not diminished. She wept and plead that her boy Blackbird, which was the name she had given me, should be sent back to her. Petalesharoo, th# brave, also promised that after his father's death I should become chief of the tribe. Rogers was at last compelled to return to Eng- land alone, and, not only so, but Leelinau sent word, she would never renounce her 98 LEELINAU. Indian life, and that if he could not re- turn to the Pawnees, her husband might give her back her son; and she would ask the Great Spirit to make her content. " Rogers made arrangements with a priest, Father Greeny, who was laboring to chris- tianize the Pawnees, to send her letters and money from England; and through the Priest my fatjier at long intervals heard from his beloved wife. "In 18 my father embarked for Amer- ica, leaving me at Eton. He thought it more probable that she would accompany him back to England, if she had the hope of seeing her son. In any case he had resolved that I should never return per- manently to live with my mother's tribe. " On his voyage home he died, and all his letters were lost, so that the result of his journey was never known except that his wife did not accompany him. THE ENGLISHMAN'S STORY. 99 "Before he embarked he made a will bequeathing me all his estates in England, and committing to my care funds for the support of my mother. These funds were to come into my legal possession on my attaining my twenty-fifth year, and in the mean time should my father die, my guar. dian was enjoined to send yearly a large sum of money to Father Greeny, who was the agent appointed by my father to re- ceive it for Leelinau. " It is now eighteen years since my father left England; and I am about to fulfil his last wishes, visit my mother, and if she is not already a Christian, try to secure her conversion." CHAPTER EDITH'S SINGING. T is impossible to describe the in- tense interest with which Edith lis- tened to this account. Unconscious- ly she stopped, and gazed in her compan- ion's face. "Oh, I hope you will find her!" The tones of her voice, the changing expression of her glowing countenance, gave added fervor to her words. "Leelinau means, my dear life" remark- ed Mr. Wallingford, smiling. "And you are Blackbird?" exclaimed Edith, her cheeks dimpling with mirth. " How very strange ! I thank you so much for telling me." ON) EDITH'S SINGING. 101 " My one, only confidant ! " He glanced at her earnestly, but the long lashes prov- ed an effectual shield to her soul-speak- ing eyes. " Does it not seem as if a kind Provi- dence were aiding me?" he asked, "to lead me into direct communication with Father Rush. I had letters to him from England as one from whom I could gain information respecting Father Greeny, who, we learn, has been removed from the Paw- nees, and on that account has not been heard from for three years." " Then you cannot be sure that your mother is still living?" suggested Edith, with deep feeling. " No ; but she was at the last account. I shall start on Monday for St. Louis in company with Father Rush; and if I can find Father Greeny, I hope to prevail on him to visit the Pawnees with me." 102 LEELINAU. "What a meeting it will be!" Edith's excitement found vent in a burst of tears. Mr. Wallingford seized her hand, but dropped it suddenly with great embarrass- ment. "I have made a vow, Miss Colchester, to give all my strength and energies to the work my father left me. I feel that it has been too long delayed, and that it would have been better, far better, for me to seek my mother instantly after leaving Oxford rather than to spend two years in travelling over the continent; but I was not then aware that I had a mother living. " If I succeed in the object of my jour- ney ; if God graciously blesses my mission, whether it be at the end of six months or six years, then I shall be free to con- sult my own wishes. May I count on your kindness and sympathy then ? " EDITH'S SINGING. 103 " Six years ! " How painfully those words echoed in Edith's heart, " Si x years! 111 How much might occur before the end of that period. She was not conscious that the color had faded from her cheeks, nor that her companion was regarding her with the deepest solicitude. She scarcely heard or heeded his last words, but, with an ef- fort to command her voice, inquired: " Will there be danger ? I mean will the Pawnees receive you kindly ? " "I am one of themselves," murmured the gentleman. " I do not think they will attempt violence. If my mother is living, I imagine the chief difficulty will be in leaving the tribe." By this time our friends had taken a wide circuit, and now found themselves near the Rector's door. Mr. Wallingford detained Edith one moment to say : "As your pride or self-respect, as you 104 LEELINAtl. flatteringly term it, prevented your accept- ance of a small sum from a friend, I shall feel safe in leaving you with Mrs. Cahill. She is a noble woman who will love you like a child, otherwise I should have been pleased to know that you were pleasantly established in a home of your own, with your father and my friend Warner to protect you." " I thank you, Mr. Wallingford," was Edith's blushing reply. " I can not tell you how much I thank you, but I am ashamed to intrude my little cares upon you when you have so many of your own." " There they are ! " exclaimed Nora Ca- hill, running to open the door. "We were afraid you had lost your way." Mrs. Cahill glanced significantly at her husband when the friends entered. The subject of their conversation had been far EDITH'S SINGING. 105 from trifling; and they both bore the marks of deep feeling. To confess the truth Mrs. Cahill, though one of the best of women, was something of a match-maker. While in Rome she had considered Mr. Wallingford past hope, so en- tirely did he ignore the charms of all the fair ladies brought to his notice. With her native shrewdness she was not an hour in the presence of the travellers without perceiving that the gentleman was more than usually interested in his charge ; that he watched every change of expression in her soul-speaking face, and listened almost with reverence to the tones of her voice. Unaware of the strong tie of Christian love Avhich bound them together, of course she attributed Edith's varying color, the quick drooping of the heavy eye-lashes, the start of pleasure when addressed b} 106 LEELINAU. Mr. "Wallingford, to the knowledge that she was beloved, and was not averse to giv- ing her heart in return. " Are you rested enough to sing one piece?" asked Georgianna, as merry a piece of humanity as one often sees. " Oh, yes ! I'm seldom too tired to play and sing." Mr. "Wallingford sprang from his seat to lead her to the piano. But she declined his arm, saying : "I feel already quite at home here." "How queer," laughed Georgey, half aloud. " What is queer ? " asked her mother. "I thought we should have to tease Miss Wallingford." " My name is Colchester, or Edith I should like better," interposed our friend, with a vivid blush. "Now Miss Edith you have spoiled my EDITH'S SINGING. 107 ftm. I have been spending my time since you were away in composing a nice speech urging you to sing. I thought you would plead that you had a cold, that your head ached, in order to be teased ; that is the fashionable style in Savannah." They all laughed, and Edith, why she could not explain, caught the merry Miss by the arm, and gave her a warm kiss. " You're a dear child," exclaimed Mrs. Cahill, patting Edith's shoulder. "We shall not let you leave us in a hurry." Mr. Wallingford arose and walked to the window. Even to friends as beloved as these, he could not endure to exhibit the emotion which Edith's impassioned singing inspired. She ran her fingers over the keys, and then threw her whole heart into Eve's plaintive cry, "Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?" The effect was electrical. Mr. Cahill, who 108 LEELINAU. had thrown himself into a chair to enjoy the treat, started up, and stood immovable, where he could catch every sound. His wife hid her face in her handkerchief, and wept, while the two daughters held their breath to listen, until, when the singer reached the plaintive wail: " flowers That never will in other climate grow My early visitation and ray last At eve; which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names. Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ?" Georgey, wholly overcome, rushed from the room, and sat, sobbing, on the stairs. It seemed to the listeners as if, in vision rapt, they could see "The Son of God In pity lest in some rash hour they dare, Fall'n as they were, to touch the tree of life, EDITH'S SINGIXG. 109 And thus (disastrous victory) achieve An immortality in mortal sin, Drave them before Him, weeping as they went, Forth from that happy garden, through its walks Of fruit-trees, by its crystal rivulets, And past its countless bowers of blossoming shade, To Eden's distant gates." CHAPTER IX. THE NEW ORGANIST. Edith had finished, she arose left the room. It was impos- sible for her not to feel, keenly feel, the passionate utterances to which her rich, full voice had given expression. In- deed Edith's singing could not have touched other hearts as it did unless the emotion had emanated from her. own. For the time she felt herself to be the saddest woman whose name is chronicled upon the page of time. Eve, weak, sinful, credulous, lov- ing Eve, who had bartered, the favor of God, the society of the sons of God, who had sung their morning song in Paradise, the happiness of a world for what? for (110) THE NEW ORGANIST. Ill an apple and for her sin she was con- demned forever to leave the delights of Eden, to feel the gnawings of unavailing regret, to witness, among those she loved, the saddest of all sights, a son lying stark and cold in death in consequence of her disobedience. " Wonderful ! wonderful ! ! " exclaimed Mr. Cahill seating himself, and wiping big drops of perspiration from his forehead. " Won- derful ! I never before realized what a power there is in the human voice. Wallingford, you left the half untold; and yet I suspected you' of extravagance." Neither Mrs. Cahill nor Nora spoke. The daughter, sitting near her mother, hid her tears on the lady's shoulder. All were oppressed with a sadness which they could not shake off; Mr. Wallingford recalled to mind what Edith had said about singing in public, saying to himself: " What 112 LEELINAU. crowds she would call around her by the exercise of her powers ! " In imagination he drew a melancholy picture of her fu- ture, when he was living with savages ; and she in the effort to provide- for her father should be tempted into public life. " Oh," he asked himself, " why can I not free myself from my vow ! " Happily the tea-bell recalled him from his painful reveries to present realities. Edith came from her chamber to the sup- per-room with a calm, elevated brow. Hang- ing on her arm, trying to hide her swol- len eyes, came Georgey, her merriment for the time effectually checked. After tea company came in, and Edith sang again, accompanied by Mr. Wallingford. The fame of the new organist was spread- ing rapidly. Mr. Wallingford left at an early hour for his room at the hotel. There was quite a THE NEW ORGANIST. 113 struggle in his breast as he walked through the squares. On one side he was rejoiced that Edith had won friends for herself, that, aside from her wonderful powers as a musician, her beauty, her sweet, modest grace, her Christian humility, and meekness which shone so conspicuously in every action, the dignity which repelled undue familiarity, all this, united to her warm, loving heart, would render her society sought as an or- nament to the most refined circles. On the other hand there was one bitter, perhaps selfish reflection : " She is independent now of my care, and will be happy when I am far away. Edith ! Leelinau ! my unknown mother, how much I sacrifice for you I " Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, passed all too quickly. On Friday evening Mrs. Cahill invited a select circle of friends to meet the strangers. When they went away 114 LEELINAU. the question, " Who is to be our organist?" was settled, at least in the minds of the Committee. In the meantime very suspicious move- ments were noticed by Mrs. Cahill and her daughters. Mr. Wallingford and the rector were absent hours at a time; and when they returned condescended no explanation to the inquisitive. It was decided that for the present, cer- tainly until her father joined her, Edith should have a home in the family of the rector; paying her expenses of board, etc., by her instructions of Nora and her lively sister. This arrangement was a happy one for both parties, and Mrs. Cahill congratulated herself upon having so distinguished a stran- ger under her roof, and committed to her care. " Yes, Mr. Wallingford," she exclaimed, THE NEW ORGANIST. 115 when he had been expressing his wish that all should be done to make Edith happy. "Yes, I'm not quite blind, though I say nothing, I see how it is ; and I'll keep her safe till you return from your travels." She had not an inkling of the object of his journey, though she often playfully re- marked in his absence, that he bore him- self like an Indian chief. " Remember," he urged, " that I per- suaded her to come to Savannah, when she was on her way to New Orleans. I was quite sure you would take her to your heart. But you will acknowledge that I am in a degree responsible for her success." Before Saturday night, Miss Colchester had the promise of seven pupils, which, including the salary of the organist, con- vinced her that it would be safe to send for her father. Indeed she almost regret- ted that she had refused Mr. Wallingford's 116 LEELIXAU. loan. The gentleman still retained hei purse, and she was reluctant to ask him for it after what had occurred. She wrote in exuberant spirits to Montreal, minutely detailing the incidents of her journey, the kindness, and respectful care of Mr. Wallingford, and the hospitable warmth of Mrs. Cahill's reception to her fireside. She ended by saying : " Dear father. Hold yourself ready to come whenever I send for you, which I shall do as soon as I have money to pay your travelling expenses. In our pleasant Southern home we will forget the trials of the past." This letter when superscribed, Edith re- quested Mr. Cahill to post with his own. She was somewhat at a loss to account for the eagerness with which he undertook the commission, or for the significant glance passing between him and Mr. Wallingford. THE NEW ORGANIST. 117 " Mamma," cried Georgianna, running in from the street an hour later. "Did you know the pretty house at the corner of our street is rented? The advertisement is taken from the windows; and the women are at work getting it ready for the fur- niture." " No, my dear," answered her mother, somewhat excited. "Did you hear the name of the new occupant?" " No, mamma ; but I'll find out this after- noon." "You're a veritable daughter of Eve, Georgey," remarked her father, looking up from his paper. On the next Sabbath the new organist ac- quitted herself to the entire satisfaction of her friends. After this one trial there was no question of her success. " Such a voice, to say nothing of her skill as a pianist, would make a fort me for 118 LEELINAU. any one," suggested one of the Committee. "We must make our terms with her so lib- eral that she will remain content.'' On Sabbath evening Edith was looking over an illuminated copy of Pilgrim's Prog- ress which she had taken from the table, when Mrs. Cahill requested her to read aloud for the benefit of the company. "I like to read," said the young girl, with artless warmth; "but will it not dis- turb the others? " " We usually devote our Sabbath even- ings to reading and sacred music," re- marked Mr. Cahill. "If you read half as well as you sing, I shall be delighted to listen." "And," added Mr. Wallingford, smiling, "you will be redeeming a promise you once made to me. Let me see, I was to judge whether it was expedient for you to give public readings." THE NEW ORGANIST. 119 " Thanks to you and our kind friendg here, there will probably be no need of my resorting to a course so distasteful to my father," urged the young girl, with changing color. " "Would it not be distasteful to yourself?" asked Mrs. Cahill, in surprise. " I am afraid I shall fall in your opinion when I confess that were the necessity ur- gent I would not mind it. To be sure the criticism, etc., would be unpleasant ; but when once accustomed to the sound of my own voice in a strange place, I forget myself entirely." "I can testify that you thought your- self Eve the other day/' remarked the rector, with a shrug of bis shoulders. .'I can't imagine anything that would tempt me to listen to her wails again.-" "Oh, pa!" exclaimed his wife. "What will Edith think of you?" 120 LEELINAU. " That my frankness is to be imitated. Do you not agree with me, Walling- ford?" He laughed as he answered, " Without doubt; but we are losing the reading." He approached the table and taking the book from Edith's hand selected a portion which he gave her. It was the arrival of Christian at the palace called Beautiful, and his talk with the three virgins, Pru- dence, Piety and Charity. Edith read well even when she knew critics were ready to pronounce upon her with severity. She read freely, forgetting her own identity ; and she gave herself up for the hour to the subject before her. She was herself an actor in the scene; and there were both power and pathos in her rendering. Even the change in her countenance was wonderful, personifying each character THE NEW ORGANIST. 121 as she read: First, Christian, triumphant at having passed the lions in iafety, meekly recounting to Piety what the Lord had done for him. " I saw One, as I thought in my mind, hanging, bleeding upon a tree ; and the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back ; for I groaned under a very heavy burden ; but then it fell down from off me." Then the pertinent questions of the virgins, leading the pilgrim to recount more fully the incidents of his journey Zionward. As Edith read, she threw her whole soul into the feelings of the speaker. The effect was wonderful. " I wish I could read like that," said the Rector, humbly, " Miss Edith, who was your teacher?" "My father, sir. lie used to drill me when I was only five years old. First, 122 LEELINAT7. he explained the meaning of the passage when it was fbscure, and then read it him self. It was my delight even then to try and imitate the mellow, changing tones of his voice. I'm so sorry/' addressing Mr. Wallingford, " that you did not see my father." "I still hope to have that pleasure, Miss Colchester, before I return to England." The company did not separate until a late hour, for Mr. Wallingford was to leave in the morning, and the parting (poor Edith hoped no one suspected what the parting was to her) must take place now. Mrs. Cahill tried to make her husband understand that the lovers, for such she persisted, in spite of Edith's remonstrances to call them, must be left by themselves; but all her hints and winks were disre- garded ; and she was planning a retreat when THE NEW ORGANIST. 123 Mr. Wallingford frankly requested a few moments' private conversation with Miss Colchester before he took his departure from the house CHAPTER X. THE SEPARATION. UT when Mr. Wallingford found him- self alone with Edith, he could not find voice to utter one word. She was the first to rally : " I suppose you will write Mr. Cahill?" she said frankly. " Yes, unless you will permit me to ad- dress my notes directly to you. I have allow- ed myself to hope that you would continue to be my friend and adviser. I know not what trials or temptations I may have to en- counter; but I do know that it would be a source of the greatest comfort to be allowed to report my progress to you, and ask your sympathy. I do not forget ^hat I have just commenced the pilgrim's journey, nor the (124) THE SEPAKATION. 125 efficient assistance you rendered me when I was in the slough of Despond." " I shall be very glad to hear from you," Edith answered, her soft brown eyes kind- ling with pleasure. " I shall never forget your kindness, Mr. Wallingford." He made a quick gesture of impatience. " Mere selfishness, Edith. Your pride pre- vented my sending for your father; but Mr. Cahill has promised to befriend you; f.nd you must give -me your word, I have A right to that by the obligation, I am under to you, that you will not allow your pride to interfere there. Accept aid from him as you would from your father, and do not keep me ignorant of anything that concerns you. Do you promise?" He looked in her face not tenderly, but almost in a defiant manner, as if he would say, " you dare not refuse," and found it difficult to control his feelings. 126 LEELINAU. "I promise," she murmured, her lip quivering. "Oh, Mr. Wallingford! It seems to me that now for the first time, I realize what a different thing it would have been for me to travel two thousand miles alone. It was a kind Providence that led you to address me in the Montreal Station." " It was an event for which I certainly shall never cease to be thankful, Edith; you see how readily the name falls from my lips, Edith," lingering on the word. Can't you give me a motto ? " She drew the little book from her pocket, and put it into his hands. " May it com- fort you as it has comforted me." " Thank you," he said, raising it to his lips, ' but give me one beside." She paused a moment in thought, then repeated these words : " In all thy ways acknowledge God, and he shall direct thy paths." THE SEPARATION. 127 " Thank you. For me nothing could be more appropriate." He extended his hand, and she laid hers within it. Not a \vcid was spoken on either side. In another moment the door had closed behind him. CHAPTER XI. TEE NEW HOME. T was of no use for Edith to deny that an engagement of marriage or something that implied an engage- ment, existed between her and their late guest ; her pallid cheeks and drooping eye- lids proved that there was more than friendship between them, and also her deep sorrow at the separation. The young girl at last confided to Mr. Cahill the circumstances connected with Mr. Wallingford's conversion. "He told my husband that for months his mind had been tortured with fears and doubts," returned the lady. "He hinted at some work he had promised to under- (128) THE NEW HOME. 129 take; but his unfitness for it made him a prey to the most gloomy forebodings. Do you know what first made him interested in you, and a believer in the sincerity of your religion?" " No." " It was observing the comfort, you de- rived from a passage of Scripture when you were bowed down with sorrow. He read it over your shoulder. ' Let not your heart be troubled.' He said you received it as if you had heard it addressed to you, directly from the Saviour's lips; and then he first realized the intimate relation existing between Christ and his disciples." Two, three weeks passed before Edith received an answer to her letter from her father. She had begun to feel anxious lest some calamity had befallen him, when Mr. Cahill put into her hands a letter and sat do\vn to watch her read it. 130 LEELINAU. The first date was the day after she left home. It was written in a journal of daily events. Eagerly she turned to the bottom of the page for the last news, when the watcher saw her eyes open wide, and her lips part in astonishment. " I don't understand what he means." " ' I must leave you, my daughter, to ex- press my thanks to your friends. I can- not find words to do so. Our good phy- sician tells me that another winter here, after my late attack of pneumonia, would be hazardous in the extreme. By this we may learn how safe it is to trust our Lord. Warner has obtained permission of our landlord to give up our lease. Providence permitting, we shall therefore, start the last week in October, reaching New York by the shorter route as your friend advises, so as to be ready for the steamer which on Saturday, the twenty-fifth instant.' " THE NEW HOME. 131 Edith let the journal drop from her hands, and buried her face to hide her tears. " Father has been sick, and I away ; but now I shall see him again. I cannot realize the happiness in store for me. Mr. Cahill, what can I say to you? Did you write my father?" " I never allow my daughters to pry into my secrets," he answered evasively, laughing as he spoke. " I will say this, however, the news is not entirely unex- pected, and as our friends will be here next week, it is time we were looking up a house." " Yes, sir, or a few rooms ; but I must run and tell Mrs. Cahill my good news, and then read my long letter. I hope I'm not dreaming ah 1 this time." It was now that the secret came out, the mysterious walks, the whispered con- 132 LEELINAU. ferences between Mr. "Wallingford and his host. In anticipation of Mr. Colchester's arrival, a house near by had been hired by Mr. Cahill, and the upholsterers were still at work fitting it up for its new oc- cupants. " It is very easy to guess whose purse has been employed," remarked Mrs. Cahill, glancing curiously, and rather indignantly in her husband's face. " I give you the credit, my dear, of having the heart to do all this ; but unfortunately your means are too limited to afford such a luxury. Still I must say it would have been more like a good husband, had you confided in me." " It was not my own secret, Mrs. Cahill and I will acknowledge that it was a great trial for me to keep it from you." "Did the gentleman confide to you the state of his affections ? " she asked, resolv- ing to sift the matter to the bottom. THE NEW HOME. 133 " Not a word on the subject." " "Well, my dear, all I have to say is, that it is very strange altogether, and if she were a daughter of mine " At this moment Edith and Nora walked into the room, having just returned from the new house. " There is so much I ought to say that I cannot utter a word," faltered Edith, sinking into the nearest chair. "How have I deserved such generous kindness?" To Mrs. CahilTs astonishment, her hus- band appropriated these remarks to him- self. " I feel sure, I shall get my pay," he said, laughing. She gazed in his flushed face with wifely indignation, and then exclaimed: " Edith Colchester, I am not bound to keep anybody's secret, though it would have been better perhaps for somebody to 134 LEELINAU. confide in me. You need not thank us, though we are as glad to have your father settled near us, as anybody can be." Georgey came dancing into the room, having peeped through the crack of the door, and heard the last remark. " 'Twas Mr. "Wallingford, I'm sure of it, I saw him one day coming out of the house at the corner. Oh, nobody can cheat me ! " Of all present, Edith was the only one who made no remark on this. What could she say ? The arrival of the steamer was the event now talked of and longed for. Edith re- membered her promise to Mr. Wallingford at parting, and resolved to accept his kind- ness in the same spirit it was offered. She resolved, therefore, to receive her father in the house made ready for her use, and on Tuesday night took posses- THE NEW HOME. 135 sion of the premises, Mrs. Cahill having hired for her a stout colored woman as cook. The meeting between father and child was deeply affecting, especially as during his late attack of pneumonia, he had given up the hope of seeing her again in this world. There was but one thing to mar their enjoyment. The long journey had prostrated the old man's strength; and Edith felt a cold grip at her heart as she gazed upon his pale features, and his emaciated form, and realized that he was still far from well. In the evening Mr. and Mrs. Cahill came to welcome the stranger, but found him lying on the sofa greatly exhausted, and therefore, made a brief call. A week's rest, however, united to Edith's care, and a tonic prescribed by the skil- ful physician, produced a marked change 136 LEELINAU. for the better, so that Edith went onco more about house with a bright smile, singing as she went. CHAPTER XII. WALLIXGFOED'S LETTER. HERE were many causes to make Edith contented. She had as many pupils as she could attend to ; her services in the choir were increasingly popular | and she had received a long letter from her absent friend, which I shall take the liberty to copy entire. "I take it for granted, dear Edith, that you will allow me to relate every particu- lar connected with my mission. On reach- ing St. Louis in company with Father Rush, I found that Father Greeny was under censure in the Church for too great liberality of sentiments. His parish had been taken from him; and he had sudden- (137) 138 LEELINATI. ly disappeared some months ago. As I had resolved not to make a confidant of Father Rush, I had no other course than to proceed at once up the Missouri as far as Platte River, between winch and the Kansas lies the settlement of the Pawnees. " Everything seemed novel and strange to me until I saw upon the banks of the Missouri the tents of the Otoes, a tribe near the Pawnees, when a rush of childish memories swept over me of my early life amid such scenes. I was once more an Indian pappoose dressed in fine cloth ornamented with wampum and feath- ers. I saw again a large wigwam with skin doors, inside of which on a mat of bear-skin sat a beautiful lady. She was weeping bitterly while before her stood a boy whom she alternately pressed to her oosom and pushed from her sight. The lady WALLINGFORD'S LETTEB. 139 was Leelinau, the Indian princess, my mother; the boy was Blackbird, myself. " As you may suppose this tide of mem- ories was unexpected and overwhelming. They drew my heart to my unknown mother with an inexpressible longing. * Will she recognize me ? ' was a question I often asked myself, and which I tried in vain to answer. 'Will her affection for me lead her to leave her home, renounce the nomadic life she had always enjoyed, and be happy where conventionalities su- perabound?' Neither could I satisfactorily answer this question. In the midst of my surmisings, I rec- ognized the possibility of her decease; and oh, how my heart sank within me as I feared, if such were the caso, that she had died without the knowledge of a Sa- viour's love ! This idea was so distressing that I found no relief except in prayer. 140 LEELINAU. "At length we approached the place where I must quit the steamer, and take passage in a smaller craft to carry me directly to the Pawnee settlement. This was not easily accomplished; but after a delay of twenty-four hours, I succeeded, in company with an educated Indian wait- ing to return to his tribe, in chartering a boat to take us to the eastern boundary of the territory. There the Indian assur- ed me, we should find canoes in which we could be conveyed to our destination. " I wish I could give a description of the scenery, so unlike anything in Eng- land. For miles together there was no sign of life ; and then we suddenly emerg- ed into the region of a vast plain dotted as far as eye could reach with lodges where the Indians reside. The view recalled some beautiful lines which so aptly describe it, I will copy them : WALLINGFOKD'S LETTEB. 141 "And at my side there lay a vale Eeplete with little glens, where oft, The Indian wigwam rose, and little fields Of waving corn displayed their tasselled heads; A stream ran through the vale, and on its marge There grew wild rice, and bending alders dipped Into the tide ; and on the rising heights The ever-verdant pine laughed in the breeze. I turned around, to gaze upon the scenes More perfectly, and there beheld a man Tall and erect, with feathers on his head, And air and step majestic ; in his hands Held he a bow and arrows, and he would have passed Intent on other scenes, but that I spake to him." "You can easily imagine the interest with which I regarded the slightest in- cidents, as giving a clew to my own relatives. " Yes, I watched the men lounging about the doors of the wigwams, puffing the smoke of their pipes through their lips; or returning with their pouches of game from the hunt, and reflected that my 142 LEELINAU. grandfather might once have been simi- larly employed. "I saw middle-aged and youthful squaws dressing deer-skins, or performing other menial offices, and shivered as I recollect- ed that Leeliuau might resemble them. " Engrossed by my own thoughts I scarce- ly noticed my companion, who sat at the other end of the boat, gazing silently into the water. At length I found my reflec- tions so bitter that I resolved to turn from them. I therefore addressed the Indian Chief which was not so easy a performance as one might suppose. "He was past the prime of life, grave and taciturn, dressed in the costume of his countrymen, with earrings and rows of beads falling across his naked bosom. On his lower limbs he wore cloth leggins, taste- fully ornamented with beads and small feath- ers. His feet were cased in richly wrought WALLINGFORD'S LETTER. 143 moccasins of elk-skin. Around his body was wrapped a blanket gracefully folded across his breast. But the most singular part of his attire was the cap or crown of eagle feathers which adorned his head, and fell half way down his back. " I knew my companion could speak English; and I therefore asked: " Shall we reach the Pawnee settlement to-night?" He fixed his full, black eye on me for an instant before he deigned to reply, and then answered briefly : " ' When the queen of night rises over the hills you will be in the lodge.' " ' Will it be easy for me to procure an interview with the Chief? I have business with him, business of importance.' " Once more he fixed upon mo a stern, unfaltering gaze, but at length he an- swered . 144 LEELINAU. " ' Tomorrow at midday the Chief will receive you.' " I was obliged to content myself with this promise, for my companion turn- ed decidedly away; and I would not again intrude on his silence. "Before we separated, there had grown upon me a strange, unaccountable yearn- ing toward this grave, reticent man : and I could gladly have acknowledged kindred- ship with him. " As we approached our destination, I several times found my companion's eyes fixed on me; but not a muscle of his stolid face relaxed; nor did he give the slightest evidence of curiosity. " We had scarcely touched the shore when he sprang from the boat, and walked rapidly away. I had supposed he intend- ed to accompany me to the settlement. Presently, however, an Indian launched WALLINGFORD'S LETTER. 145 his canoe, and beckoned me to follow him. I tried to make him understand where I wanted to go, but could not be sure whether he comprehended me ; and at length, fastening the canoe to a stake, he ran off, as I afterward found, for an interpreter. "He came back accompanied by an aged man dressed in the garb of a priest, who accosted me in my own language : " ' I am on my way to visit Letelesha the Pawnee Chief/ I explained, 'I want to hire an Indian to row me there. ' "He clasped his hands and raised hia eyes to heaven : "'Letelesha, the brave, has gone to the land of spirits.' " My countenance must have expressed something of my sorrow at this intelli- gence, for he instantly laid his hand on my arm with the tenderness of a father. 10 146 LEELINATJ. " ' Is Petalesharoo now chief? " was my next inquiry. " ' Yes, a brave, worthy chief.' "'Where shall I find him?' " ' I met him but now ; he has been to St. Louis on business with the govern- ment.' It instantly occurred to me that it was the Chief himself who had promised me an interview to-morrow at midday, and I re- peated my surmise to the priest. " ' No doubt/ was his brief answer. " ' Can you give me any information in regard to Father Greeny ? ' I asked anx- iously. " He started, but then gazing keenly in my face, inquired: "'Do you ask from motives of friend- ship? 7 " 1 1 do. He was the trusted friend of my father for many years.' WALLIXGFORD'S LETTER. 147 " ' Was your father an Englishman ? ' " ' Yes, and his name was Wallingford.' " To my surprise the old man caught me in his arms. " ' Thank God ! ' he ejaculated, his voice shaking, " ' Thank God that you have come in time. I am Father Greeny.' " ' How is Leelinau, my mother ? " ' If you had tarried but a brief space, she would have been resting beside her father. But come with me. " After a few words addressed in the language of the tribe to the Indian who had been waiting, he dismissed him, prom- ising to accompany me to my mother's lodge. " I had barely time to slip some silver into the hands of the disappointed man, before Father Greeny called me to follow him up the shore a short distance where his own canoe was waiting for him. 148 LEELDTAU. u The current was against us, so that it took us three hours to go four miles ; but I was so agreeably absorbed in what the good Father told me, that I took no note of time. " After relating the circumstances which led to his deposition, which I will tell you at another time, he gave me an account of my grandfather, my uncle, the present chief, the circumstances of my father's visit to the tribe ; my mother's espousal : the rites of her marriage, her grief at the separation from her husband ; her de- spair when her son was not restored to her, and other deeply affecting incidents of more recent date. " Have I exhausted your patience, Edith ; or will you allow me to go on ? "Letelesha, or Satalesha, for thirty years Chief of the Pawnees, was a brave, cele- brated for his deeds of prowess, and for WALLINGFORD'S LETTEB. 149 his stern, unflinching integrity. He was loved by his own people and feared by the warlike tribes which surrounded them. He early opposed the introduction of ar- dent spirits among his people, a course pursued by many of the agents appointed by government to disburse the bounty pledged by treaty to the Indians. " This virtuous chief had two children, a son, Petalesharoo, and a daughter, Lee- linau. The son early became distinguished on account of his valor, and was called, 'Bravest of the Braves.' In the winter of 1821, he visited Wash- ington, being one of a deputation from his nation to the American Government on business relating to the tribe. At that time he was of elegant form and counte- nance, his lofty stature and erect bearing would distinguish him in any company. One incident related of his valor attracted 150 LEELINAU. the admiration of those who heard it; and, among others of my father. " It had for years been the custom, not only with his nation but with the neigh- boring tribes, to torture and burn cap- tives as sacrifices to the evening Star. In an expedition undertaken by some of his countrymen against the Iteans, a female was captured and condemned to be burned at the stake. A vast crowd assembled upon the adjoining plain to wit ness the scene, and to join in the dance usual on such occasions. This brave, unob- served, had stationed two fleet horses at a small distance,and was standing among the crowd as a silent spectator. All were anx- iously waiting to enjoy the spectacle of the iirst contact of the flames with their victim, when to their astonishment Petalesharoo was seen rending asunder the cords which bound her, and with the swiftness WALLINGFOED'S LETTER. 151 of thought bearing her in his arms beyond the amazed multitude, when placing her upon one horse and mounting himself upon the other, he bore her off safely to her friends and country. " Father Greeny told me that such an act would have endangered the life of a common chief; but such was Petalesha- roo's sway in the tribe that no one pre- sumed to censure the daring adventure. " At that period I am assured that this young brave was as much a son of na- ture, and had enjoyed no greater advan- tages of education or religious teaching than the multitude whom he astounded by his humane act. " This account, being circulated in Wash- ington during my father's visit to the Cap- itol, excited the liveliest interest in the young chief. On my father's introduction to him, he was dressed in a manner sim 152 LEELINAU. ilar to that in which I met him. An intense admiration for his noble qual- ities had grown up in my father's mind; and when they met, the regard was mu- tual. A treaty of affection was formed which resulted in a promise from my father to visit the distinguished chief in his forest home. But being unexpectedly called by business in another direction, the promise was not redeemed until my father's subsequent visit to the United States, when he journeyed West, met Petalesharoo at St. Louis, and returned with him to his tribe, where he met my mother." CHAPTER Xin. WALLIXGFORD'S JOURNAL. JCTOBER 25th. I left my writing yesterday in a most abrupt manner in consequence of a summons I received from Father Greeny. I shall al- ways have reason to thank God for bring- ing me here, and for bringing me at this crisis. The past ten hours I have been actor in scenes of the most intense excite- ment. I have now returned to Father Creeny's lodge where I wrote yesterday ; and my thoughtful host has left me to get some sleep; but the rest I most crave, will come to mo while addressing my fear- less, faithful monitress. "Edith, last night when I stood by the (153) 154 LEELINAU. couch of my mother, and told her of the Saviour's love of his compassion, even for the most guilty, I tried to recall your words addressed to me. You were by my side. I saw once more your lip trembling with emotion. I looked in your eyes, dim with unshed tears. You said once 'I wish I could comfort you as you have comforted me.' " Edith you did comfort me last night. Will you forgive me for saying, 'There links Betwixt us two a tender sympathy, Eternity will rivet, not unloose.' " But I will endeavor to fix my mind on my narrative, and give you a connected account of events as they occurred. "The chief Letelesha, or as he is called in history, the knife chief, was not more renowned for his feats of strength, than was WALLINGFORD'S JOURNAL. 155 his daughter Leelinau for her gentle vir- tues. Her slender, supple form, her full, beaming, hazel eye, and her dark flowing hair formed a picture most pleasing to gaze upon. In the language of another, ' And through her cheek The blush would make its way, and all but speak, The sunborn blood suffused her neck, and threw Over her clear brown skin a lucid hue, Like coral reddening through the darken'd wave Which draws the diver to the crimson cave.' " The hand of this young princess had been sought by several young braves, but to all alike her father answered: " ' You ask me to bestow upon you my daughter, the chief solace of my age, my choicest gift from the Master of Life. Have you borne in mind that Leelinau is descended from a line of chieftains who came from the East? And what have you to boast? Have you proved your fortitude 156 LEELINAT7. by suffering protracted pain, enduring con- tinued hunger, or sustaining great fatigue ? Is your name known beyond the limits of your own tribe ? None but the bravest of the brave can ever hope to claim alliance with Letelesha.' When my father returned to the Indian territory in company with his new friend, ho found himself on a beau- tiful plain extending as far as eye could reach, covered with natural flowers of a thousand different hues and fragrance. Here and there were clusters of tall, shady trees, separated by streams of the purest water. Under the shelter of the trees, were the lodges of the Indians, which, dotting here and there the landscape, gave a pleasing variety to the picture. "In the most delightful of these groves was the lodge of the Chief. When the trav- ellers entered it, the hour was sunset. Let/ elesha had returned home from the chase. WALLINGFORD'S JOURNAL. 157 "Just outside the lodge, a huge carcass of deer was hanging by its antlers, while within a savory repast was in preparation by an old squaw. " The Chief half reclined on a mat of bear-skin, while close at his side his beau- tiful daughter warbled a song of her native forest ; meanwhile with her nimble fingers embroidering a wampum belt lying across her lap. " It was a lovely, peaceful home-scene, and my father thoroughly appreciated it. " As a friend of Petalesharoo the stran- ger was received with honor. The friend- ship ripened day by day. While the fa- ther and brother were following the chase, or attending to the business of their tribe, my father enlivened the solitude of the fair princess by tales of his own land. Like her brother she could talk in broken English ; but now a lover's voice taught 158 LEELINAU. her to sing the ballads that he loved. To- gether they wandered through the forest, returning at night laden with flowers of every hue. '' At last, growing bolder in his love, my father poured into the maiden's ear the story which has never grown old, since Adam told it to Eve in Paradise. " Nor did the princess say him nay. A new life had begun for her. Never before had her heart beat so tumultuously. Never before had her step been so elastic, nor her eye so bright. " Letelesha saw and sighed. He too loved the white chief who had come from far to woo the fairest of the fair ; but his heart whispered that the stranger would ere long grow weary of Indian life, and /earn after his own kindred. What would become of Leelinau then? "When he repeated these words to his WALLIXGFORD'S JOURNAL. 159 daughter, her head drooped on her breast, and she wept. It was as if she had said, ' I plead with my tears.' Her brother also plead for his friend. Between them they prevailed over the better judgment of the Chief; and he consented that his daughter should be the bride of the pale-face. " For two moons only were the rites which joined them delayed. Father Greeny, at that time a zealous Romanist, had com- menced his labors among the Pawnees, but was now absent. My father, though a prot- estant, gladly availed himself of priestly rites to give additional sanctity to the simple ceremony which was the usage of the tribe, and therefore waited his return. " Nor was the time too short ibr the Englishman to prove to the Chief and his son that he was not behind them in pow- ers of strength or endurance. He had been trained to wonderful feats in the 160 LEELINAU. schools of his native country, while his skill in horsemanship would almost equal that of those who make it a profession. "Leaving his betrothed waving her farewell from the door of the lodge, he rode forth in company with the bravest warriors to the hunt ; where even in com- pany with the Bravest of the Brave, he earned laurels. "Nor when the wedding day arrived was the trousseau wanting. There was then but little communication with the States ; but a heavy purse and a firm re- solve can work wonders. Cloth of the finest texture, ornaments of gold and coral adorned the graceful limbs of Lee- linau, making her the admiration of the whole tribe. " At the close of a happy year, during which my mother made rapid advances toward civilization, and in which my WALLINGFORD'S JOURNAL. 161 father's efforts were added to those of the priest for the welfare of the tribe, a new tie united my parents. From the raven blackness of my hair and eyes, Leelinau, according to the custom of the nation, called me Blackbird, though my father, embracing the opportunity presented by Father Creeny's first visit after my birth, had requested him to call me by the name of my uncle, Brooks Dudley Walling- ford. Through the whole tribe my father went by the name of ' Flying leap,' in con- sequence of a wonderful feat of horseman- ship. " There was one event during my infancy which may perhaps interest you in con- nection with the Bravest of the Brave. " One of the Pawnee warriors having been absent on a war expedition, brought back with him a Spanish boy whom he had captured from a neighboring tribe. 162 LEELINAU. The warrior was resolved to sacrifice him to Venus, the great star whom he wished to propitiate ; and the time was appointed. " Letelesha had long wished to put an end to this ancient custom of his tribe, and now consulted Petalesharoo, and Flying- leap upon the course to be pursued. The Brave said : " ' I will rescue the boy as a warrior should, by force.' " His father, unwilling that he should thus expose his life, made great exertions to raise a sufficient quantity of merchandise for the purchase of the captive. "All who were able, at the desire of the Chief, contributed; and a pile was made of the goods before Letelesha's lodge, who then summoned the warrior before him. When he had arrived the Chief com- manded him to take the merchandise and deliver up the boy. The warrior refused. WALLINGFORD'S JOURNAL. 163 Letelesha then waved his war-club in the air, bade the warrior obey or prepare foi instant death. " ' Strike,' cried Petalesharoo, ' I will meet the vengeance of his friends.' " But the prudent and excellent Leteles- ha resolved to use one more endeavor, be- fore committing such a deed. He there- fore increased the amount of property, which had the desired effect. The boy was surrendered ; and the valuable collec- tion of goods sacrificed to Venus in his stead. "Petalesharoo, then called together the chiefs, when Flying-leap, holding up a sil- ver medal before them, called them to listen : " ' Brethren,' he began, ' this day we have reason to be proud of our Prince, the Bravest of the Brave. This day he has redeemed his pledge which he gave to 164 LEELINAU. our brothers and sisters in Washington. So highly was he there esteemed for his bravery, anJ for the tenderness of his heart, that he was presented by the la- dies with this elegant silver medal, which was given with this address : tt i u Brother, accept this token of our esteem; always wear it for our sakes; and when again you have the power to save a poor captive from death and tor- ture, think of this and of us, and fly to her relief and rescue." " ' Chiefs and warriors, listen to Petale- sharoo's reply.' The medal hung about his neck; he seized it in his hands: "'This,' he said, 'will give me more ease than I ever had; and I will listen more than I Qver did to white men. I am glad that my brothers and sisters ap- prove the act I have done. I did it in ignorance of the God of the pale-face; WALLINGFORD'S JOURNAL. 165 but I now know what I have done. By giving me this medal I know it. I will learn of the white man's God to deliver captives from death.' " This address of my father's produced a great effect upon the warriors, who crowded around their young chief, stand- ing modestly apart from the group, and eagerly expressed their pleasure. "At that time the intercourse between white traders and the Indians had barely commenced. Occasionally a daring or a mis- sionary spirit led one, as it did Father Greeny, to brave the terrors of the scalp- ing knife ; and intrude upon them in their wigwams. But for a long time the influ- ence of Father Greeny was insufficient to prevent torture to the captive. The pooi Indians all believed that the success of their enterprises depended on their faith ful performance of their rites and sacrifices." CHAPTER XIV. THE HAPPY REUNION. CTOBER 28th. I have been un- able until now, to resume my jour- nal, and at this time can only add a few pages, as I have an opportunity to send to St. Louis, by one of the Paw- nees, who will post my package there. I hope it will reach you in safety, and that its minute contents will not weary you. " I need not remind you of your prom- ise to tell me of whatever concerns you. But to return to my narrative: "Two, three years passed after my birth, and my father showed no symptoms of wishing to return to civilized life. Indeed, with his Leelinau, or My dear Life, as he THE HAPPY REUNION. 167 often called my mother, and the pranks of his pappoose, with the excitement of the hunt, and the success of his trade in furs with the States, he had no time for ennui. "At first Letelesha watched his daugh- ter's husband with gloomy forebodings ; but as he saw Flying-leap happy in teaching his wife to enhance the comforts of home, a sense of security gradually stole over him : and when three times twelve moons had waxed and waned, he forgot that the pale-faced brave had other ties across the sea. "During these years the lodge under the tall trees was beautified by clinging vines which climbed up and threw their luxuriant tendrils lovingly over the sides. The grounds in the vicinity had been made to resemble an English garden. Parterres of flowers transplanted from the wilderness 1 68 LEELINAU. blossomed with increased beauty. Beyond was an enclosure where vegetables in abundance gave token of the richness and fertility of the soil, and which proved an additional charm to the pleasures of the table. Fish, prairie fowls, many varieties of game, bear meat, buffalo meat, and ven- ison, constituted the fare, and were dain- ties fit for a crowned head. " Within the lodge the softest mats of wolf, bear and buffalo skins, covered the well-trodden earthen floor, while cages of birds of the richest plumage hung around. Heavy curtains separated the sleeping apartments from the common room. There was a motley array of furniture. In one corner was a small upright parlor organ standing opposite an array of kettles, wood- en spoons and other cooking utensils. Next to the organ the large case in which Flying-leap kept his arrows and gun. THE HAPPY REUNION. 169 Over this the branching horns of a huge deer. Next a large lounging chair, and then again a rude case well filled with books, prominent among them the Bible which my father was beginning to consult as a guide from earth to heaven. "Just as I had reached my third sum- mer, the summons for my father brought dismay to many hearts. It was an imper- ative summons not to be tampered with. There was a tiny pappoose now lashed to its cradle according to Indian usage and standing in the corner of the wigwam. " Since this may strike you as cruel, I will explain that the cradle is made of a straight piece of wood, generally about twenty inches long and twelve wide. Near the top a piece of supple wood is bent in the form of a bow, which prevents any injury to the infant should the cradle be accidentally upset. The bow also serves 170 LEELINAU. as a support to attach tbo toys hung in front of the child's eyes for its amuse- ment. " Perhaps you have read the pretty lines in which reference is made to the Indian cradle. The mother chants to her sick child: " ' Baby dear, Leave me not ah, leave me not; I have nursed with love sincere, Nursed thee in thy forest cot Tied thee in thy cradle trim Kind adjusting every limb; With the fairest beads and bands Deck'd thy cradle with my hands; And with sweetest corn panade, From my little kettle fed, Leave me not ah, leave me not.' "In place of the dandling, usual in England, the Indian mother lays her infant on the board upon which a blanket has THE HAPPY REUNION. 171 been folded, and lashes it firmly to the support, which secures it so well that the cradle can be set up on end against the side of the lodge and in this position the pappoose will sleep for hours. When taken from the cradle it will often cry to be put back, folding its tiny arms by its sides for the purpose. Probably in this way the Indian squaw secures for her child the straight back and erect bearing for which the Aborigines of Amer- ica are noted. "My little sister lona was five months old when the messenger came to announce to my father the death of my grand- father and of my uncle Brooks Walling- ford; sudden death from the overturning of a carriage. " When Leelinau was made to compre- hend the necessity of an immediate deci- sion 01 my father's question, 'Will you 172 LEELIXATT. go with me to England, or remain here till my return?" her grief rendered her almost frantic. She had learned enough during her acquaintance with him to un- derstand that her nomadic life among savages had sadly unfitted her for the sphere to which she would be introduced as the wife of a wealthy Englishman. She was now able to read, and began to blush at her own ignorance. " ' No, no/ she shrieked, wringing her hands. " You will not love me there. You will compare me with the pale-faces, and mourn that you ever sought a rude, un- taught savage.' " No arguments that my father could use had weight against these fears which had obtained complete mastery over her. Her brother tried to soothe her by repeating Flying-leap's promise of return, while her father stood by in dignified silence. THE HAPPY KEUNION. 173 "But. not to delay on this painful scene. My father made hurried arrange- ments for the comfort of Leelinau and her infant daughter, and left the Pawnees taking me aAvay with him. " Years passed ; my sister lay sleeping beneath the sod. My father's servant, old Roger, had been on his fruitless errand to the lodge, and at last ray father him- self came to urge Leelinau and her brother to accompany him to England. He promised her the tenderest care ; and to Petalesharoo the means of prosecuting an education in any college he might choose ; but she would not consent, and after a residence with the tribe of nearly six months, he once more left her, promising that at some future time I should visit her. " From the moment she heard of his death on board the steamer, no smile 174 LEELDUT7. was seen in the once happy lodgo of Leelinau. She pined day and night. Tears, sighs and lamentations were heard con- tinually. In vain Letelesha and Petalesh- aroo employed persuasion and reproof; both were alike unheeded. She reproach- ed herself continually with being the cause of her husband's death. She would seek a retired spot in the forest or by the side of a crystal stream; and there under a shady tree she would sit and sing her mournful laments for hours to- gether. " At last time assuaged the poignancy of her grief; and she began to look for- ward with delight to reunion with her husband in the Paradise of the blest; where, according to the belief of the Paw- nees, the spirits of friends will be re- united and tread forever over fields of flowery enjoyment, free from care or sorrow. THE HAPPY REUNION. 175 " In this state of mind she <;ontin jed until the death of Letelesha, when the more spiritual labors of Father Greeny led her to reflect on the instructions of my father, Avho during his last visit was un- ceasing in his efforts for her conversion. " It was strange how entirely these had faded from her mind. Now she listened for hours to the teachings of the Bible, which produced a deep conviction of her guilt as a sinner before God, but unhappily did not lead her to Christ as the only satisfaction for the offender. " Here I must close my sheet, hoping for a speedy answer to my long epistle. BROOKS D. WALLINGFORD." I must now take up the narrative. On reaching the settlement, with his guest, Father Greeny accompanied the traveller to his own wigwam, and after giving him 176 LEELINAU. such refreshments as he had at hand, left him while he went to Leelinau's lodge to consult Petalesharoo as to the best manner of preparing the mother to receive her long lost child. He found to his surprise that the Chief had recognized his nephew, and was already at his sister's couch, momen- tarily fearing interruption from young W llingford. He gladly welcomed the priest and retiring to the farther end of the lodge, stood silently awaiting the result. For months Leelinau had been failing in strength. Ever since the death of her husband she had reproached herself for not consenting to his wishes and accom- panying him. Her love, she felt sure, would have averted the calamity which overtook him on board the ship. At times, too, his earnest words of entreaty that she would embrace his Saviour, flashed through her with overwhelming force. THE HAPPY REUNION. 177 Her mind was like a troubled sea which cannot rest. She acknowledged to her- self, though she would to no other, that her steps were hastening her enfeebled body to the grave, and ever this ques- tion was before her " Will my spirit join my husband and my babe lona in the land of the blest; or shall I be condemned to live solitary, beholding their happiness afar off, never able to approach them? " Day after day Father Greeny had sought to shed light on the darkened mind; but reticent and calm outwardly, he could not guess the tortures of her soul, and knew not how to apply the remedy. These tor- tures had at length wrought such a change in the appearance of Leelinau that it was evident to all she had but a few weeks, perhaps only days, more to live. It was mainly to procure some medicine 12 178 LEELINAU. for his sister that Petalesharoo had been to St. Louis, and now his very soul was moved within him as he reflected upon the possible effect of the overwhelming joy in store for her. Hitherto Father Greeny had advised that no allusion to her past happiness with Flying-leap should be made in her pres- ence ; but now, entering with a smile on his aged face, he sat down on the pile of mats the Chief had just vacated. " Come," he exclaimed, " you must smile with me. I have had a dream, a hap- py dream. Who do you think I saw in it?" " I cannot imagine. It may be you saw niy father." " Xo, it was Blackbird." She started up with a cry of pain. "Tell me," she exclaimed, "how did he look? Was he a child still?" THE HAPPY REUNION. 179 "You nmst control yourself like the daughter of a great Chief, or I can tell you nothing." " That is true, Leelinau. Be calm, for I too have had a dream ; and I think it portends good," added the Chief. The poor mother clasped her hands. " I am waiting," she said, hoarsely. " No ; but you must tell me how Black- bird looked ; it is so many years since he went away. Tell me, that I may be sure I was not mistaken." Leelinau's eyes flashed, but presently softened, as she commenced : " Straight as a pine in its native forest, was my first- born. Black and shining like a raven's wing was his hair. Keen as a vulture's was his eye " She fell back with a heart-rending shriek. " Oh, why, why did I ever consent that he should leave me ? " 180 LEELINATT. " Hush ! hush ! Leelinau, sister of the Brave. He will return. Through these great forests he will search till he comes to the lodge of his mother." " How know you this ? " Months of sup- pressed agony were concentrated in the shriek which followed this question. " Be quiet, Leelinau," said her brother, "and I will bring Blackbird to your couch, not a child, but a man, a warrior, fit to be the son of Letelesha's daughter ; one to make a mother's heart swell with pride." " Where is he ? I will go and seek him. Why did his footstep tarry until he reached his mother's lodge? He must be weary. Let me arise and prepare him food. Oh, my son, my son ! " Here the mother's excitement became so intense that it was with difficulty her at- tendants could prevent her from rushing out into the forest in search of her boy. THE HAPPY REUNION. 181 " Stay here," said Father Greeny, " I will be back presently." In five minutes Blackbird stood panting before the skin door which alone separated him from his mother. Throwing aside his hat, he entered and stood before her; then with a low cry, as he thought of all she had suffered from the long separation, he threw himself on his knees by her couch and buried his face in her bosom. " Mother ! Leelinau ! My dear Life ! have you no words of welcome for your boy ? " he exclaimed passionately. The princess raised her eyes to heaven, murmuring inarticulate words, then sud- denly clasping his head, she held it where her eyes could feast on the sight. " It is, it is my son ! my beloved for whom my soul yearned. Am I in the spirit land? Has the Great Father revoked my doom? May I talk with my son?" 182 LEELINAU. " I am here in the flesh, mother. Put your hand in mine ; feel the quick throbs of my heart. It beats high with love to Leelinau." She caught him to her breast and rained showers of kisses on his cheeks, his brow, his lips. " Now I know it is not a dream ; " and she lay quietly back on the couch, keep- ing her eyes fixed upon his. The Chief now came forward to welcome the visitor, and deeply as young Walling- ford's feelings were moved at meeting his mother, he could not but admire the ease, self-possession and grace of the man as he stood erect, the lord of the forest. "You are welcome as the breath of spring, welcome as the noise of the water- fall to the thirsty hunter, welcome as the sight of the lodge-fires after a wearisome march. You are welcome." THE HAPPY REUNION. 183 " Have I kept my promise ? " k.quired Father Greeny, bending over the couch, with an arch glance. " You have kept it. My son, my Black- biid, my warrior, my second Letelesha, has returned ; and we shall never part more until the Master of Life calls me to the land of spirits." She fixed her eyes keenly upon her son, as she said this, and he answered solemnly: " We will never part." With a quick gasp she released his hand while a gush of tears came to her relief. But with a self-control for which he was unprepared, but which accorded well with her character, she soon became calm, and folding her hands on her breast, said softly : "I am content." CHAPTER XV. THE MOTHER'S LODGE. N attendant brought in for the vis- itor dried venison, cakes made of maize, parched corn, and a pipe, formerly used by his grandfather. Wallingford partook sparingly of the food, urging that he had already eaten, then holding the pipe reverently in his hands, he touched the mouth-piece to his lips, and laid it aside. " It is sacred, sacred to Letelesha," he said, solemnly. He could scarcely have done anything more pleasing to his mother. She gazed lovingly in his face, as if she could never weary of the sight, whispering to herself: (184) THE MOTHER'S LODGE. 185 "lie is true. He feels no shame on ac- count of the red blood flowing in his veins. He is true to Letelesha, and to his mother." It was now midnight ; but Leelinau would not part from her newly recovered treas- ure. She caused a pile of mats to be laid at the farther corner of the lodge where she could keep him in sight, and herself feigning sleep, watched him as, ex- hausted with fatigue and excitement, he soon fell into a profound slumber. Not once during the night did the watcher close her eyes, but when the morning dawned and she had partaken with him of the feast Petalesharoo had prepared for a welcome, she consented to be left alone and seek the rest she so much needed. "Sleep, Leelinau," entreated Wallingford, bending over her, " and I will entreat 186 LEELINAU. our heavenly Father to give strength to your frame. I have much to tell you of myself and much to learn concerning you and my sister lona." The young man hurried away to Father Creeny's lodge and passed an hour or two in writing to Edith. From this time Leelinau's strength grad- ually returned. When the weather was mild she went out, always accompanied by her son, and led him to her favorite haunts in the forest. For hours during the balmy Indian summer they sat on a mound, near the grave of lona, while the mother dwelt upon her childish beauty and grace, which alas ! was so soon buried from sight. It was here too, near the repose of the early dead, that Wallingford first told his mother of the hopes he had begun to cherish of happiness beyond the grave. Not, indeed, until this hour, had he de- THE MOTHER'S LODGE. 187 layed to awaken in her a desire foi some token of acceptance with God. He had at once urged her to submit herself to the Saviour, and she with the artlessness and abandon of a child, had confided to him all the trials and conflicts she had en- dured while trying to approach the Al- mighty Ruler of heaven and earth. " But I never come any nearer," she ex- claimed in despair, and with her eyes up- turned. " Earth is not farther from Heaven than the Great Spirit is from my poor trem- bling heart. I cannot find him. I must walk in darkness forever. When my eyes are shut to the light of day, I shall never see you more, my son. I shall never see the young brave, Flying-leap, who wandered over seas and through forests to find rest in my arms. I have looked my last on the sweet babe who nestled against my bosom. The Master of Life is a being 188 LEELIXAU. brighter than the sun; 'more glorious than the moon with her train of stars ; but I shall not be permitted to look upon him." " Mother ! mother ! why will you despair, when the Bible, God's oAvn book, is so full of precious promises? Oh, mother ! I am but a babe in knowledge ; but I have found the Saviour. Will you not trust this gracious Friend ? Our father in heaven says to those who trust him : * As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.' Will you not trust me to show you the way to him?" " I will trust you," laying her hand in his. " Do you remember, Leelinau, the story of the Spanish boy who was rescued from the flames by my grandfather and hia sons ? " "I remember." THE MOTHER'S LODGE. 189 "He was a captive, and the warrior demanded a heavy ransom. It was right, for life is worth more than gold. The ransom was paid, and the captive was free. Ought he not to love those braves who saved his life? Ought he not to be will- ing to devote his whole strength to their service ? " " He was willing ; he begged to do so ; but Letelesha sent him back to his friends." " We are all captives, mother. Captives to sin. Christ the Saviour came to ran- som us. He would have given gold and silver and costly garments ; but these were not enough. Do you know what he gave? Have you not heard that the Son of God gave his own life to ransom ours ? " " Yes, I have heard. Flying-leap frequent- ly read to mo from his book : but my heart does not understand; I feel it not. I despair. I tell no one but my son. I 190 LEELINAU. ain soon going to the land of the Great Spirit. It is a long journey. I have no guide." "Dear mother, listen to the words of your child. Think of Blackbird, the son of Mighty chiefs. Would he deceive his mother ? " " The voice of Blackbird is music to my ears. It is like the voice of the nightin- gale. It is like the cooing of the dove. It is sweet as gurgling waters. I will listen." " Let me read to you the words of the Great Spirit. It is addressed to you. Our Father's eye watches us at this mo- ment. He sees your heart torn with sad forebodings. He longs to comfort you. He sends his good spirit to whisper words of peace. Listen : "'Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no THE MOTHER'S LODGE. 191 money; come ye, buy and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.' " Leelinau eagerly drank in the words, but when he stopped, her head sank on her breast. " This invitation is to all," he went on. " Christ's love for sinners has made it free. Now hear what Christ says to you and to me: " ' Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst ; but the water that I shall give him, shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.' " Wallingford was aware that this sym- bolic language, so suited to the Indian habits of thought, would touch a chord in her heart. He was not surprised therefore to see her eye kindle with interest; but no sooner did she observe his cheeks flush 192 LEELINAU. with hope, than she feigned an indifference she was far from feeling. " Will you not drink of this water, my mother?" he asked in tones of affection. "I cannot answer." "'I am the bread of life,'" he repeated. " ' He that cometh to me shall never hun- ger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.' " For a few moments the poor woman was so rilled with a - sense of her own sinful- ness that her cries were incessant. Her keen distress so affected her son that he pressed upon her the only remedy, submission to God, repeating with great emphasis the word : " ' For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.' " After a time Leelinau became more calm, and rising said: "Let us return to the Lodge." THE MOTHER'S LODGE. 193 Several days passed and though lavish m her affection, the mother gave her son no opportunity for personal conversation. "Wallingford was greatly distressed. He attributed his want of success to his un- skilful manner of presenting the truth. He did not realize that the hour of her salvation had not yet come. Oh, how earnestly he wished Edith were there to probe his mother's heart as she had probed his own ! Then after his first joy, when doubts and fears arose, how quickly she had strengthened his faint heart by the promises of God. Walking solitary in the forest near his mother's lodge, he revolved all these sub- jects, vainly endeavoring to peep through the cloud which darkened his mother's mind keeping her from joy and peace in believing. Though he had the utmost confidence 13 194r LEELINAU. in Father Creeny's motives, be could but acknowledge that the religion of rites and ceremonies, of mere outward ob servances still clung to him, and these were made in a degree to take the place of genuine faith and trust in Christ as the all-atoning sacrifice. It was difficult for the priest at once to overcome the influence of a long life of adherence to dangerous theories, and to believe in Christ's ability to do his own work. On this account the gentleman did not regret as he otherwise would have done the ab- sence of this noble-hearted man. After days of the deepest solicitude, ho resolved to repeat to his mother the story of his own trials with a proud, sinful heart before he was brought by divine grace to sit humbly at the feet of his Saviour. CHAPTER XVI. LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD. T was a cool, frosty November day. Leelinau, reclining on her bear-skin mats, was busying herself in em- broidering a pair of moccasins for her son; and, finding her strength rapidly fail- ing, would not rest until they were fin- ished. Sho had one day expressed a desire to hear once more the sound of the organ her husband used to play : and Wallingford desirous to gratify every wish, had sent to St. Louis for a man to come and put the instrument in order. "Are you too tired to hear me talk, Leelinau'? " he asked, bending over her with looks and tones of love. (196) 196 LEELINAU. " The ' notes of the Chileoli are not more sweet to my ear, my son." He threw himself on a costly wolf-skin at her feet, and removing her work from her hands, recounted minutely his loneli- ness after his father's death, the void in his heart, the whisperings of the spirit of grace, his own feeling after God, his proud, rebellious heart that would not ac- cept free pardon, but sought by a moral life and generous deeds to win heaven for himself. Then ho described, the emo- tions which surged through his breast when told that, far away in the wilds of America, there yet lived the mother who had given him birth; and the injunction left by his father that ho should visit her, and if she had not already embraced the Saviour, that he should win her to the cross. "A blind leader of the blind, I should LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD. 197 then have been," he added, every feature agitated with emotion. " I was blind. I walked in darkness, and would not see the light. The work I had to accomplish weighed heavily on my spirits. I became a reserved, gloomy man. On my voyage to Halifax my distress of mind increased. I prayed, beseeching God to grant peace to my troubled soul; but still I would not accept Christ as my ransom, my me- diator with my offended God, and there was no peace for me. I had letters to some of my guardian's friends, resident in Canada; and I proceeded there to deliver them, and from thence started for the States, anxious first to find my father's friend and agent, Father Greeny, who would conduct me to you. In Montreal I met a young girl scarcely more than a child in years but a woman in knovvl- 3. I saw her, when in affliction, go 198 LEELINAU. I to her Father in heaven with the confid- ing trust of a babe. At last I told her I was in darkness ; and gently she led me on till I saw my error. I laid my burden at Jesus' feet, and in that hour I found sweet peace. Christ says ' Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.' " When his voice ceased, Leelinau said ab- ruptly: "I would be alone. When Petalesh- aroo returns from the chase, ask him to tarry at the door." It was not long, however, before she summoned them to return, but she did not ask to renew the conversation She lay with her eyes closed, while the at- tendant squaw moved about, preparing a savory stew for the evening repast. When all was in readiness, she arose and ate with the rest, then, beckoning her brother to her side, began: LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD. 199 " Petalesharoo, my time is short. You are a mighty Chief. Our fathers were war- riors who feared not the face of man. Petalesharoo, who will be Chief when the Master of Life calls you to the land of the blest ? Listen to my voice. I have heard the call of the Great Spirit. When I am gone, my son will return to the land of his father ; his heart has chosen a mate ; and he will not long tarry at a distance from her. You have been father, brother, chief to poor Leelinau ; but in turn your heart will be sad. Let this not be so, my brother. Take the bright-eyed Iva, and bring her to your lodge. Then when I see that you are comforted, I can go in peace to the land where there will be no more sorrow nor parting forever." While she was speaking Petalesharoo sat gazing in her face with the calmness under which a Brave hides his deepest emotion, 200 LEELINAU. either of sorrow or joy. Just so had he gazed at Wallingford when they were seated together in the boat, and on recognizing him had given no sign of the tide of joy surging through his heart. Leelinau waited for him to answer, and then added : " Take Iva who is a fair and virtuous maiden: she has hearkened to the whispers of the Great Spirit. Let her be a companion to you when I am gone and the mother of mighty warriors." " Your words are new to me," he an- swered at length, " I will give heed to them." Having said this, he arose, and walked slowly from the lodge. Leelinau bade her squaw tell her which path he had taken, and when she knew he had gone to the wigwam where Iva lived with her father, she was glad. Wallingford's couch was adjacent to hia LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUDS. 201 mother's, separated from hers only by heavy curtains. The night after his long talk with her, his anxiety prevented him from sleep. He arose at last and kneeling by his couch poured out his full heart before God in earnest supplications for her con- version, lie besieged the mercy-seat cry- ing like the patriarch of old, " I will not give thee up, except thou bless me." "When he returned to his couch his heart was full of joy. He was willing to wait God's time. He had faith in the promise, " Ask what ye will, believing and ye shall receive." There was a blessing in store for Leelinau. The next day the man arrived at the lodge to tune the organ ; and he also brought a bundle of letters for Wallingford which Father Greeny had forwarded from St. Louis. One bore a foreign stamp; but it was laid aside ; another was from 202 LEELINAU. Mr. Cahill, this was received with a smile; but there was another still, which the mother, eagerly watching, saw him press to his lips. With a sigh she whispered to herself, "He will be comforted when I am gone. But I am content. I am glad my son will be happy. I shall be happy too." The letter so prized was from Edith. From the neat, flowing chirograpby on the small card she had given him, he at once recognized the address, and with a beaming face retired to his own apartment, if such it could be called, to read it by himself. Shah 1 I give it to you, my reader ? " I can scarcely tell you, Mr. Walling- ford, how deeply the contents of your long and interesting journal affected me. Tears of sorrow flowed for dear Leelinau at the separation from her husband, and also tears of sympathy with her joy at your return. LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD. 203 With my whole heart I pray that the gracious Spirit may take of the things of Christ, and make them plain unto her; and that she may receive the Saviour in all his fulness. How I yearn to do her good; and yet, would she receive the words of one whom she has never seen? If you think it right you may tell hei from me, that the peace coming from sub mission to God is like a flowing river ; like the sun majestically receding from sight, leaving the roseate clouds reflect- ing its splendor like the calm of the waves after a storm has passed, like the peace- ful quiet of an infant's slumbers, a peace which passeth understanding, which the world cannot give nor take away. " I shall look for your next letter with impatience. My imagination has easily pic- tured the scene of the re-union : but I long to learn how it actually took place, 204 LEELIXAU. and whether you found her a believing Christian. God grant it may be so. " After your description of Petalesharoo, so brave, so tender, my heart goes out to him with deep regard. How wonder- ful that in the midst of warlike tribes, such humane sentiments as govern him and Letelesha should take root. What a noble Christian the present Chief would make ! I hope he is one, and that his in- fluence for the religion of the Bible may be powerful among his people. "I have taken the liberty to send Lee- linau a little token of affection, which, if you think it proper, you may present her, with the kindest wishes of one who owes to her Blackbird's generous kindness, the welfare, perhaps the life of her father." Folded in an inner envelope was a book-mark of rich crimson ribbon, on which the text from Scripture, " THY WORD GIVETH LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD. 205 LIFE" was wrought in gold cord with exquisite skill. The ends were ornament- ed with deep fringe. On the outside of the envelope the superscription was, " To Leelinau, the Indian Princess, with sincere regard." Wallingford pressed the precious gift re- peatedly to his lips, and then eagerly re- sumed the reading. "I feel reluctant to intrude upon you, any thoughts not connected with those you love ; but I cannot send my letter with- out telling you about my father. Soon after I left Montreal, he was seized with an alarming attack of pneumonia, the re- sult of the uncongenial temperature ; the physician assured him that he could not probably survive the winter, unless he re- moved to a warmer climate. But though born in affluence, he had now become so reduced by the fraud of those from whom 206 LEELINAU. he deserved better treatment, he had not the means to follow his physician's advice ; but in the words of the Psalmist he cried unto the Lord in his trouble, and He de- livered him out of his distresses. " Only a few days before he and War- ner reached Savannah, did I become aware either of the immediate necessity for his removal, or that the means to remove had been generously furnished him. We are now delightfully situated in the house you authorized Mr. Cahill to hire. ( You see how vain it is to try to keep a se- cret from curious woman.) My father is fast recovering his usual strength. My piano reached me without injury, and I now give lessons in my own house from six to eight hours a day. Besides these lessons, which are very remunerative, I have received an invitation to give lessons in elocution one evening in every week LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUD. 207 to a class of young ladie? connected with a school in Savannah. I wish I knew whether it would meet the approbation of all my friends. I have a great motive for earning money. Mr. Cahill, my kind adviser, has promised to pay the rent of our house from the salary which I earn as organist; and if I am blessed with health I shall before long be able to meet all other pecuniary obligations. The noble generosity which prompted the offer of money I shall ever remember with contents of the will. " Meanwhile Giles sperit his newly ac- quired wealth, as if he thought there could be no end to it. He tore down a part of my uncle's house, and rebuilt it in the most extravagant style. Mrs. Colchester decked herself in jewels far better fitted for a crowned head than for her. Melville, at this time near seventeen years of age, was sent to Halle to complete his education, while for his sister, two years younger, the most expensive tutors were employed. THE CHASTENING ROD. 277 " The first affliction that befel them was the death of Mildred. She was drowned in a small lake near the Park, within a hundred rods of the house. " It would have been happy for me," con- tinued Mr. Colchester, with a heavy sigh, '' had I consented at once to leave Yorkshire for a residence on the continent. My wife warmly urged this course ; but I was in- sane a monomaniac, call it what you please, on the subject of my uncle's will. Probably Warner's presence, and unavailing regrets aggravated the evil, by keeping the idea of conspiracy constantly before my mind. We lived only two miles from the Park, and therefore were continually learn- ing of the extravagance of the new occu- pants. " I had been to London on one occasion, and returning met Melville coming out of my house. Edith, then a child of ten 278 LEELIXAU. years, stood at the door, smilingly bidding her cousin adieu. I passed him with a chilling bow, and entered the parlor with- out speaking. "'Who invited Melville here?' I a^ked sharply, ' and who brought these flowers ? ' I added as my eye fell on a beautiful bouquet of familiar blossoms. "Edith came toward me, and seizing my hands, gazed wistfully in my face, aa she answered : " Melville brought them, papa." " ' Melville is wholly unlike his father/ plead my wife. ' He begged for the priv- ilege of coming hero occasionally during his vacation; ho is so unhappy at home.' " ' And what did you say ? ' "'I gave him permission. He is not to blame for his father's crimes.' She fixed her beautiful eyes on mine as she spoke, and then added : MELVILLE BROUGHT THEM PAPA! Page 27 THE CHASTEXING ROD. 279 " ' My husband, let us give up this war- fare. Let us cast out the serpent of sus- picion from our bosoms. Let us cherish instead, the grace of forgiveness towards those who have injured us. We shall be far happier, and shall not then fear to ask the blessing of God upon our path.' " Many times at longer and shorter inter- vals, my Edith continued to urge me to re- sign myself to my lot, pleading that she could be as happy in a cottage as in a palace, if I and her daughter were left her. " These exhortations were not without effect. Gradually I turned my attention to other objects. I forbade "Warner to men- tion my cousin's name ; and I spent hours each day teaching my little Edith. " "We might have been happy then ; but ah, God knew what was best for me ! In love he chastened me to bring me back to 280 LEELINAU. himself, to conquer a spirit of pride, and .love of rank dominant in my breast. My dear wife, my better part, my helper, after a short illness was called away to her ever- lasting home. It so happened that Melville was at the Park for a month when my wife was taken ill ; and nothing could exceed his attentions. I had heretofore forbidden my daughter to accept anything from the Park but flowers ; now he urged so tearfully that Aunt Edith would be better for some grapes, or peaches or some other dainties, that gazing in my wife's peaceful eyes beaming with the light of heaven, I could not re- fuse. " At the last Melville kneeled with us around the bed of the dying saint, and shed his tears with ours, when she fell sweetly asleep in Jesus. " Every morning when I, accompanied by my daughter Edith, visited the quiet THE CHASTENING ROD. 281 grave of our loved one, we found fresh flowers had been strewn there by an ear- lier visitor; but at length Melville's visits to us and to the grave ceased. " One evening we were just retiring to rest when the door was burst open, and the young man appeared, his eyes wildly protruded, his cheeks pallid with excite- ment : "He seized my hand and pressing it till the grasp became painful, exclaimed : " ' I am going away ! I cannot live at the Park ! Uncle ! Edith ! promise me that whatever comes, you will never believe that I that I what shall I say ? I fear I shall lose my senses. For Aunt Edith's sake remember me kindly. Fare- well I " He dropped my hands, caught his cousin Edith to his heart, held her there one minute, and was gone before we could 282 LEELINAU. learn what had occurred to cause this strange outbreak. " In a few days, "Warner, who had ways of his own for learning whatever transpired at the Park, ascertained that there had been a rupture between Giles and his son, which ended in Melville's threatening to leave the parental roof. His mother wrung her hands, and with showers of tears, plead with him not to leave them ; but he firmly answered : " ' You know tho only condition on which I will ever return.' " He would not even accept a carriage to take him to London, but departed alone and on foot, calling on us on his way. " That was the last time I ever saw my nephew who, I was constrained to believe, suspected at least his father's crime, and abhorred it. "Now that you know these facts, you will THE CHASTENING EOD. 283 not wonder that I was agitated on receiv- ing this letter from him, endorsed by Lord Giles Colchester." The silver-haired man placed in Mr. Ca- hilFs hands a formal proposal of marriage from Melville to his cousin Edith. The suit was warmly urged by the young man, who declared he could not remember the hour when he began to love her. His father's letter was brief and to the point. It ran thus : " I give my unqualified consent to my son's proposals. Edith shall bo received and welcomed in the place of our lost Mildred." For some moments after reading these letters, Mr. Cahili sat absorbed in thought. " How will Edith receive this offer ? " he asked himself. " Wallingford, your suit is in danger." "I confess my heart goes forth to the young man," resumed Mr. Colchester. "I 284: LEELINAU. wonder that this way of adjusting onr family difficulties never occurred to mo. However Edith must decide for herself. I shall never force her inclinations." " She is not a girl to submit to force," was the Rector's reflection, " she would die first" " I wonder where my daughter can be," murmured the visitor. " Shall I find her and send her to you here? or may I suggest that you post- pone the delivery of the letter until your return home ; you will then have ample time for reflection before the next steamer sails for Liverpool." After a moment's hesitation Mr. Colchester folded the letter again, and returned it to his pocket. CHAPTER XXIII. A BRIEF EPISTLE. f the evening when they were once more by their own fireside, Edith said: " Warner tells me, papa, that he brought you a letter with a foreign stamp." " Yes, my daughter, forwarded to this city from Montreal." " Who was the letter from, papa ? " Instead of answering he asked suddenly : " Edith, do you remember your cousin Melville ? " Now as it had been agreed between the three, father, child and servant, that the old cares and vexations should be left be- hind them, when they embarked for the (285) 286 LEELINAU. Provinces, and as during the year and a half of their residence in Montreal, no ref- erence had been made to her uncle's fam- ily, the young girl's start of surprise at the mention of the once familiar name, may be easily imagined. But after a moment she answered, smiling: " Certainly, but I should scarcely know him now." " And yet he "was very fond of you, my daughter." (: Yes," with a yawn behind her hand. "I think I used to be fond of him; and, let me think, what did mamma say to me about my cousin?" Edith fixed her eyes thoughtfully on the fire, (necessary morning and evening in that climate,) trying to recall the events con- nected with that painful scene. " Yes, it was the day before mamma died. Melville had brought a bunch of A BKIEF EPISTLE. 287 grapes from the Park, and was feeding her with them one by one, when she stopped him, and put our hands together." " ' Love her, Melville/ she said. ' She is a dear child, and she will soon be moth- erless.' " I recollect," Edith added after a pause of painful memories, " that 1 threw my arms around Melville's neck, and wept as if my heart would break. Oh, how sad those days were ! Why revive them, papa ? " ' I have a reason, my dear, which I will tell you presently." The door opened, and Warner entered. " I'm getting old and forgetful, Miss Edith," he said, holding out a letter. " This came with Master's this morning. I put 'em both in my pocket together; but I was so taken up with seeing our Queen's head on the stamp, I never thought of this one." 288 LEELINAU. Edith seized it so -eagerly she almost crushed it in her grasp. "I hope the news you heard was good news," Warner said, addressing his master. "I shall tell you about it by-and-by," Mr. Colchester answered evasively. "Edith, where is Edith?" he added, hearing the door shut. "Why, what has happened ? " By this time the young girl was in her chamber. Tearing open the envelope, she saw at a glance that instead of many sheets, like Mr. Wallingford's last, this was all embraced in a few words. It was dated, " Midnight, November 23." " I have an opportunity," the letter began, " to forward a letter to St. Louis, by one of the traders who is here col- lecting furs, and embrace it to say, I have met my mother. She has not the comfort of religion. It must bo, it is my A BRIEF EPISTLE. 280 first duty to remain with her. Oh, that you were here to administer to a mind darkened by doubts and fears ! 1 have much to say to you : but dare not lose this opportunity to send a few lines as travelling becomes more and more diffi- cult after this season. Pray for me, dear Edith, and pray for poor Leelinau. " WALLINGFOED." The lines had evidently been written in haste, and the address was so illegible that it had travelled from one place to another until some postmaster had crossed it out and written " Savannah " in large letters. It was certainly very naughty of Edith. I am very sorry to tell tales of her. No wonder the blushes mounted to her very brow; but she pressed the brief epistle to her heart, and then to her lips. " Ho is safe then ; he has not forgotten 290 LEELINAU. his fellow traveller. Oh how thankful I am!" It was nearly half an hour before she recalled to mind the fact, that she had left her father very abruptly. She ap- proached the mirror and was half vexed that her eyes shone so brightly. She fear- ed lest some one should guess her secret joy- A knock at her chamber door, and Warner reminded her that the hour was growing late and that her father was im- patient for her return to the parlor. If Mr. Colchester could have known what was passing in his daughter's mind, he would have waited a more favorable opportunity to present her cousin'-s propo- sals, which, every moment he thought of them, he became more desirous she should accept. But he did not even guess that her heart was not her own. He had indeed A BRIEF EPISTLE. 291 become familiar with the name of Wall- ingford in consequence of hearing it re- peatedly from Mr. Cahill ; but for aught he knew, the gentleman was a man of family or advanced in years. Edith had seldom mentioned him. " I was just about to tell you," he said, smilingly welcoming her to a seat near him, " that I have received a letter for you from your cousin Melville. My daughter, you look more and more like your mother. She had just such a beam in her brown eye. You need a mother now, my dear. "Did you say the letter was to me, papa? Please let me see it, unless you have resolved to return it unread, which I hope for mamma's sake you will not do." " No, no, child, I Lave read it already, and give you my consent io act exactly as your heart prompts in this matter." 292 LEELINAU. Edith took the sheet and perused it with undisguised merriment. " Thank you, papa, for giving me liberty to answer as I please. Melville is a good, kind cousin, no doubt : but after an absence of, let me see, I was ten or near it, when he went away, and now I am eighteen, an absence of eight years, it cannot be expected that I should feel very anxious for a nearer connection. He must be un- usually hopeful to expect that." She met her father's saddened eye, and perceiving that he still held a paper sup- posed that it contained something painful. " What is it, papa ? " reaching out her hand. "Let me read it and throw it be- hind the grate. We are so happy here, we don't want any change, do we?" Her face flushed indignantly as she read: " I give my unqualified consent to my son's proposals." A BRIEF EPISTLE. 293 " What nonsense ! Does he suppose that I will go back to the Park and live there with his Lordship ? " She was tossing the letter into the flames when her father caught her hand. " Edith, you are too hasty. I am disap- pointed. If I could see you restored to your rights ; I should die in peace. I have prayed for many a year that this might be. Perhaps God is answering my prayers in this way." Edith sat like one stupified. Such words coming from her father's lips not only sur- prised but pained her exceedingly. ''Would my father ? " she asked herself, " see me married to my cousin, sacrifice everything that makes life dear in order to wring from Lord Dexter what he has ungracious- ly wrested from us? No, I have misunder- stood him, it cannot be." "You are weary, papa. There is a flush 294 LEELIXAU. on your cheek which I do not like. In the morning we will talk about Melville. Good night, papa; I will send Warner to you directly." She kissed him as she spoke, putting back affectionately a lock of silver hair, fallen over his brow, and before he could stop her, she was half way to the dining- room where the servant sat reading his paper. At eight o'clock in the morning her first pupil came, and from that time till six at night, her father waited to recall Edith's attention to the subject of Melville's suit. The moment tea was served he desired her to accompany him to the parlor. " Have you decided ? " he inquired anx- iously. " Decided what, papa ? " "I refer to your cousin's proposals, Edith. I have viewed them in every possible light. A BEIEP EPISTLE. 295 Giles is many years my senior, and there- fore in the course of nature cannot long survive." " Papa, why will you talk so ? You are young yet. It is only this crown of glory which makes you look old." She lifted the locks tenderly. " Well, my dear, I was going to say that if Giles will advance money for Mel- ville to live independently of him, it would be a relief to my mind that you can never suspect, to see you once more in the sphere to which you belong." " Papa," every word was low but clear, " papa, if Lord Giles Colchester would give his son every pound he is worth, on con- dition I would marry him, I would not consent." "Why not, Edith?" "Because I don't love him." She turned on her heel, and was walk' 296 LEELINAU. ing toward the piano, when her father said: " My daughter, I know you do not in- teni to grieve me. You have been my com- fort, my only solace, too long for me not to understand that. But I must be frank with you. Melville's proposals are honorable and deserve some consideration from you. Stay, do not speak yet, you are young ; you are excited. You do not understand your own heart." "Unfortunately I understand it too well," was the poor girl's mental comment. " I will not take what you said just now as an answer. I will give you time to ponder the subject." " Papa, dear papa," Edith began, when seeing his flushed, anxious face she checked herself, and only adding, " thank you," ran her fingers over the keys, as a precursor to a song. A BRIEF EPISTLE. 297 Her father listened and wondered. Her music was so joyful, triumphant, even the tones of her voice thrilled with exultation. " Just so I could sing," he said to him- self, " if I could see Edith mistress of the Park." One song followed another, each in the same jubilant strain, and when she rose and came toward him, her countenance beamed with joy. She seated herself at his feet and gazed up into his face. " I am happy to-night, papa." " So I perceive, my daughter." " Only think, dear papa, how God has blessed us. Five months ago how dark our prospect was ! You were feeble, I could not earn enough to support us com- fortably. We all disliked the cold climate ; and we did not find too many friends. Now, how different 1 We have a delightful 298 LEELINAU. home, where the warm breezes will soon restore you. I have plenty of remunera- tive employment, kind friends, and every- thing congenial God is very good to me, papa. My heart is full of hallelujahs !" " I thank God, my child. If you are happy, it is all I ask." " But are you not happy too, papa ? I thought I had never seen you more so than yesterday after that long theological discussion with Mr. Cahill.'' " Yes, my child, I am always happy when I see you so. But it is growing late, and you may bring the Bible for prayers." Edith arose, summoned Warner and their colored cook, then joined with the others in devotion. " Oh," she said to herself, "with what fervor my father pours out his heart before God." CHAPTER XXIV. DEATH OF THE CONSPIRATORS. [EFORE morning Mr. Colchester was seized with an attack of fever, and for nearly a fortnight did not leave his bed. Every moment that Edith could command from her pupils, was spent by his side ; and for the rest, Warner's hand was as soft, and his step as light as a woman's. The gentleman was at no time very ill ; but in his feeble state, the fever pros- trated and depressed him. It was his daughter's delight to smooth his white locks, to sing low lullabies, to read entertaining news. For this purpose Warner was commissioned one day to pur- <239> 300 LEELIXAU. chase a copy of the London Times; and Edith having a full hour at command drew a chair near the bed, and sat down to skim from its columns whatever might amuse or interest her patient. Passing over " Lord B's, and Lord M's speeches in Parliament," " Disagreement in the House of Lords," etc., etc., she came at length to " Items," and laughing merrily, read : "The Earl of Manning with his beauti- ful Countess are passing the honey-moon on his ancestral estates in Scotland." "On Saturday, Nov. 8th, a child of Sir Monson Smith was run over and dan- gerously injured. It is reported that he can- not survive many hours. With a passing comment, "Poor little dear ! " Edith's eye glanced on. Presently with a scream, she sprang to her feet, exclaiming : " Papa, what was tha date of that letter from Lord Giles?" DEATH OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 301 "The twentieth of October, dear. If we bad remained in Montreal a week longer, wo should have received it two months sooner." Edith's eves were {listened on the sheet; and she did not appear to be listening. "What is it?" ho asked, petulantly. "Is there anything about my cousin?" The paper dropped to the floor, and Edith's head fell forward on the pillow, where a burst of tears gave evidence of some unusual agitation. " Give me the paper, my daughter. There is nothing concerning his Lordship which need thus affect you," "Except his death," murmured Edith, raising herself. " Forgive me, papa. I quite forgot you were suffering from suspense. Tho news is startling ; and I fear in your weak state you cannot bear it." "Tell me, child." 302 LEELINAU. She caught up the paper, found the paragraph and with a quivering voice read the following: " FURTHER PARTICULARS OF THE LATE TRAGEDY. "After a night of terrible distress both of body and mind, Mr. Giles, or Lord Giles Colchester, as he has called himself, died this morning. During his last hours he made a full confession of his crimes, cor- roborating in every particular the previous confession of O'Neil. Efforts for the dis- covery of Lord Dexter Colchester, are being vigorously prosecuted in every quarter. The confession of the conspira- tors will be found on the fourth page of this sheet." During the reading, the sick man lay quietly on his pillow with his eyes closed. When his daughter turned to him to ask: "Shall I read the confession?" his pale DEATH OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 303 face alarmed her, and she quickly bent over him. " Call, Warner," lie said, in an unsteady voice. The faithful servant came and listened to a brief report of Giles Colchester's death from Edith's lips. " God is righteous in his judgments." The sick man said this as he met Warner's sympathizing eye. " I have sinned, griev- ously sinned that I ever doubted his justice." " But how did they get that infamous will?" questioned the old servant in an excited tone. " I set O'Neil down for a villain the first time I ever saw him. Head it out, Miss Edith, please." " This is O'Xeil's confession, papa." " I was hired by Giles Colchester to do a nasty job. I was valet under a man named Warner. My business with Giles 304 LEELINAD. was to obtain possession of a will, Lord Dexter Colchester had drawn in his favor. Everything had been formerly willed to my Lord's nephew, Mr. Dexter; but Giles worked upon his uncle, telling him, his heir was making ducks and drakes of his money by giving post-obits to the Jews, so that in a fit of displeasure, my Lord sent for his lawyer, Goldsborough, and had a will drawn up making over the estate to Giles. This will was not signed and Giles was pretty sure it never would be, on account of my Lady being so fond of her nephew and disbelieving the stories. As good or bad luck would have it, Warner was taken sick ; and I had my own way with my Lord. I ob- tained possession of his keys and soon ab- stracted the unsigned will from his private secretary. In the same way I obtained pos- session of another important fact which DEATH OF THE CONSPIRATOBS. 305 was that there was another will leaving the Park, landed interest, and stocks to his beloved nephew Dexter Colchester. This document was duly signed and exe- cuted, and my orders from Giles were to keep a good look out for it that it might be missing at the proper time. " It was veary waiting so many years ; but at last my Lord died, and the right will being no where, the attorney seized on the other as the last. It was all sign- ed, sealed and witnessed in due form. The lawyer quizzed and puzzled over the signatures; but the counterfeit was too exact for detection. It had taken Giles years to copy the three names, and he had done it well. On the trial tho witnesses were cross-questioned ; " Did you sign a document for Lord Dexter purport- ing to be his will?" "'I did.' (20) 306 LEELINAU. " ' Is this your signature ? ' " They looks at it, and says, ' " Yes, your Honor, it is.' It was the other will they signed; but they didn't know the difference. " Giles was to give me five thousand pounds down, when the business was safely through ; and I was to have a home with him as long as I wished. We got tired of each other's company after a while, and my Lady, who knew all the secrets, began to be impertinent and ungrateful. I don't like to think of ah 1 the scenes I was a witness to. Mildred the daughter was drowned and Melville left the house. He suspecred too much for his own comfort. At last words grew high between me and the man I called master ; though in truth I ANUS muster, and he was slave. He called me names I did not deserve ; and I resolved to be revenged. I watched my chance DEATH OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 307 when he wasn't quite himself, and having fortified my courage with a glass or two extra, I gave him a stab. That's ail I have to say." It was a mild day in the early part of February. Mr. Cahill sat at his desk in the study belonging to the Rectory, when Georgy burst open the door ex- claming : " Papa, Mr. Wallingford has come ! " The Rector sprang up in such haste that he upset a chair in his way, and hastened to meet and welcome his visitor. "Why, Wallingford, you look like a ghost of your former self! Where have you come from?" cried Mrs. Cahill hurry- ing into the room and extending her hand with friendly warmth. " I have not been well, certainly," said the visitor, sinking back into a chair. " I 308 LEELINAU. have had what my physicians call accli- mating fever." "When did you reach Savannah?" " Last evening." " And do you know ? has Mr. Cahill told you, about the Colchesters ? " "Not a word." " Then you must take lunch with us. I positively wont tell you a word until you have had something to bring the color back to your cheeks. You will re- quire all your strength to sustain the wonderful news." "Your friend Edith has a new title since you left Savannah," murmured Georgi- anna in his ear. "Be quiet, Georgy. Stop quizzing at once, and come with Mr. Wallingford, to the dining-room." " Yes, run along," said her father. " We will follow." He had not been an unrnov- DEATH OP THE CONSPIRATORS. 309 ed spectator of his friend's distress at his daughter's suggestion, and resolved to re- lieve him from his ill-grounded apprehen- sions. "Mr. Colchester has recovered his for- tune and with it his title," ho &aid, when they were alone. He noticed with pleasure the quick gasp of relief and asked, " Have you not received Edith's letter announcing her in- tention of returning to England?" " Not a word. When did she leave the country ? " " They sailed from Savannah the middle of January. I have a letter in my desk directed to you. Will you have it now ? " " Mr. Cahill, you give me credit for good nature when you ask that question. Of course, I wish it at once." " Now, my dear, you have spoiled my pleasure," exclaimed the lady, when her 310 LEELINA0. husband entered the dining-room alone. Where have you left Mr. Wallingford ? " " In the parlor, reading a letter from Edith, which I was requested to keep for him." " Mr. Cahill, is it, or is it not, the part of a good husband to confide in his wife?" " To confide his own secrets by all means ; but here comes our guest, who will need all your attention." " By no means," Mrs. Cahill," added Wallingford, advancing with a smile. " If you will give me a cup of coffee I will thank jou. The steamer leaves in the morning, and I must engage passage for New York." " I cannot say I am surprised," remarked the Rector. But let me advise you. Econ- omize your strength. Rest yourself here; and I will make every necessary arrange- ment. My wife has a budget of news DEATH OP THE CONSPIRATORS. 311 which she is most anxious to get rid of." Mr. "Wallingford warmly expressed his grat itude, and resigned himself to the lady's care with a smile. She arranged the pillows, shaded the light from his eyes, and having dismissed her daughters took a chair near the sofa, resolved to improve this last opportunity to penetrate the mystery concerning Edith and her lover. In regard to his own private history the Englishman was reserved, explaining that when he first met Miss Colchester, he was on his way to the West on bus- iness which demanded his prompt atten- tion. He confessed frankly that he loved Edith, and meant to win her if he could. "Did Mr. Cahill tell you that you have a rival, a formidable one, too ? Mr. Mel- ville Colchester, her father's cousin. Ho left his father's home on account of his 312 LEELINAU. sympathy with Edith. Warner insists that his mistress wished the match, and though the cousins were only children, joined their hands in hers before she died. " I don't mean to intimate that I believe Edith will marry her cousin," added Mrs. Cahill, when she had tortured her victim as much as she wished, "I think her heart is pre-occupied. By whom, it is not for me to say." "Does her father advocate her cousin's claims ? " " He did warmly, before he knew of Mr. Giles Colchester's death, and even afterward he urged that by uniting herself with him, the title and estate could be kept together, as Melville is the next male heir. He is a thorough Englishman," laughing heart- ily. " It was astonishing how he rallied when he heard the news. I had no idea he had so much family pride." DEATH OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 313 "And Edith?" " I believe Edith really regretted leav- ing Savannah. She urged her father to remain until spring : hut both he and War- ner were impatient to be off." CHAPTER XXV. THE TRAVELLERS' RETURN. 3 noble steamer Europa lay at the wharf. The rumble of heavy bag- gage over the deck, the hurrying of passengers to and fro, the groups stand- ing near the state-room doors watching the ever increasing crowd, hacks driving fu- riously down to the ship and unloading their living freight, men, women and chil- dren, following the waiters, who, with keys in their hands, are finding the cor- responding numbers on the doors, all an- nounce that the time of sailing is at hand. A gentleman standing at the bow of the boat is idly watching the arrival of pas- sengers. His form is erect, and his eye (314) THE TRAVELLERS' RETURN. 315 keen, but his cheeks are pale and sunken, and he has the air of one whose thoughts are far away. Every moment now is important to thoso about to embark. The sound of the steam whistling and shrieking is deafening, the passengers are getting frantic, one running this way and another that, until the con- fusion of voices reminds one of Babel. Just at this crisis the traveller perceives a carriage driving toward the wharf at headlong speed, the hackman waving his hat as he sees the gangway steps are about to be drawn on board ship. The steaming horses haul up suddenly at the pier, and the steps are let down. First an aged serving man alights, next a young lady jumps to the ground, closely veiled, giving a shawl and carpet bag to the ser- vant, and they all stand near the door to assist an invalid from the carriage. It 316 LEELINATT. is evident to tho watcher that he is too weak to walk from tho pier to tho deck. The hackman understands this, and runs on board the steamer for assistance, when with the aid of a chair, the sick man is conveyed safely on deck, and along to the door of his state room, where he is pres- ently lost to view. There is nothing unusual in all this ; yet the lonely traveller keeps his eyes fixed upon the strangers as long as they are in sight, and sighs when the door is shut upon them. Instead of retiring at once to his state-room, as ho was intend- ing, he promenades the saloon, peering anxiously through every veil, which ob- scures the features of the fair passengers. At last, baffled in his search, he visits the Captain's office to record his name, and to examine the list of passengers. Among the first entries his eyes fasten THE TRAVELLERS' RETURN. 317 on one, written in a bold, inelegant chi- rograpliy. It is this : " Lord Dexter Colchester, daughter and servant." " The old gentleman who was brought on board in a chair," remarks the Cap- tain in a friendly tone. " His servant en- gaged their passage and entered their names." " Yes, I am aware, " murmured the other, turning quickly away. He hastily wrote a few words on a card, and having ascertained the number of Miss Colchester's state-room, sent a stew- ardess with it to her. The words were merely these: " Command my services, Edith, if you need them during our voyage. " WALLINGFORD." Standing where he could command a view of her door, the gentleman presently aw a bright face peep out, and glance 318 LEELINAU. expectant up and down the saloon. He stepped quickly forward, and grasped her hand, holding it firmly between his own. " May I claim this ? " he asked, after one long, searching gaze into her face. " If you think it worth claiming." And this was their betrothal. For one moment the deck of the ves- sel seemed whirling, while the passengers, himself among the rest, floated mid air; but this might be accounted for by Mr. Wallingford's recent illness. What did he care who might be observing them ? He raised the taper fingers to his lips, sighing with the excess of his happiness. " At last," he murmured, " at last I am free to tell you." But Edith, blushing, interrupted him : "Papa is here. He has been very ill. We expected to sail in the Britannia, but he was unable to leave his bed." THE TRAVELLERS' RETURN. 319 "I am afraid I am not as sorry as I ought to bo," was the arch reply, " since it gives me the pleasure of taking the voyage with you. But will you not walk with me?" " I Avill see whether papa needs me. Warner is with him. You remember Warner. 7 ' " Perfectly." She knocked at the door of her father's state-r-oom which was next her own. "How do you feel, papa? I have met a friend on board. You have heard Mr. Cahill speak of Mr. Wallingford. You re- member, Warner, the one who offered to protect me on the way to Savannah. He is returning to England by this steamer." " You must apologize to him, Edith, that I do not admit him at once to thank him for his kindness to us. To-morrow I shall hope for the pleasure." 320 LEELIXAU. "Do you need me now, papa?" " No, my dear, "Warner is unpacking what is necessary, and then I shall try to rest. "Did Mr. Cahill tell you about us? Were you surprised to find we had left Savannah?" inquired Edith, glancing tim- idly in her companion's face. " I dare not tell you how disappointed I was, when on passing your house, I saw the words " TO LET " conspicuous in all the windows." " Tell me about Leelinau." " She died the death of a Christian," he exclaimed, with a triumphant smile. " She died with the name of Jesus on her lips, Jesus whom she adored as her Saviour. She died blessing you too, my Edith, blessing you for your faith- fulness to her son. Shall I ever cease to bless you, my darling? I never pray THE TRAVELLERS' RETURN. 321 for a blessing on myself that the thought of one dearer than self does not mingle with my supplications." The young girl lifted her eyes misty with tears to his face, but did not speak, and presently he went on: "Soon after my mother was laid away to her rest, I started in company with some American traders, who, during the winter, visit the Indian tribes to buy furs for St. Louis. The rivers were frozen and langerous. It was a perilous journey. But ibr a precious reward in prospect I would lave tarried with Petalesharoo till spring ; ndeed, I feared at one time, I should be nbliged to do so. In St. Louis I was taken sick with what was called acclima- ting fever. Father Greeny, who had pre- ceded me to that city, watched me with the tenderness of a natural father. In the words of our own poet, 322 LEELINAU. ' Six days I lay In that strange borderland, so he who watched Unwearied as an angel, day and night, Beside my pillow, told me when I woke From the fruition of celestial love, To drink in, like a thirsty traveller The sweetness of thy human love once more- Never so sweet as now. They sin who deem There can be discord betwixt love and lore.' "Oh, Edith, now that you have given me a right to do so, I may tell you what a sore trial it was to leave you in Savan- nah without some pledge of your affection. Nothing but a stern sense of duty re- strained me. I knew not but my mother's situation might require my presence for years. I had taken a solemn vow after learning from my father's long sealed pack- age that I had a mother, to allow nothing of pleasure of self-advantage to detain me from the holy duty my father had enjoined on me. I have always thought he must THE TRAVELLERS' RETURN. 323 have had a presentiment of death before he left England, so exact was every ar- rangement of his business. Poor Leelinau, has always fancied herself the cause, as if she had consented to return with him, she argued that her love could have held him back from death." " Oh, how much she must have suffered from such vain regrets ! " faltered Edith, deeply moved. " Shall I teh 1 you my mother's last re- gret in her dying hour? It was that she could not once hold to her heart the dear one her Blackbird loved, and whose affec- tion for him would, she hoped, comfort him after her death. Edith, how she would have delighted in you ! " The next morning on reaching the sa- loon, our young friend found Mr. "Walling- ford seated near the table reading from a Bible which lay there. When he saw her, 324 LEELINAIT. he invited her to join him, and together they read the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, together with the ninety-first Psalm. Then he took a small package from his breast- pocket and presented it to her. " It is Leelinau's gift, a gift of love to her daughter, she said, I know not what it contains." Edith's cheeks vied in color with the richest rose, as she tremblingly untied the string. A flat paper box inside the wrapper con- tained a beautiful set of jewelry, Flying- leap's bridal gift to his Princess. There was a necklace, bracelets, brooch and ear- rings of coral and gold, prettily designed and of exquisite workmanship. There was also a ring of great value, the sight of which deeply affected "Wallingford, as he had often seen it on his mother's finger, and had heard her say her husband brought THE TRAVELLERS' RETURN. 325 it when he last visited her. This the lover asked permission to put on Edith's finger, until he could replace it with another. " I brought away some fancy moccasins," he said, when the rest of the jewelry had been carefully replaced in the box. " I was obliged to guess at the size," he added smiling, as he glanced at the tip of a tiny boot below her dress. " When I unpack my trunk, we shall see whether I guessed aright." After breakfast, for which Edith began to feel some disgust, Warner came to Mr. Wallingford to say that Lord Colchester would be glad to see him in his state- room. Edith was with her father, but after in- troducing her friend, she left them alone. Half an hour, an hour passed, and still the interview was prolonged. Through the partition which divided the room from 326 LEELIXAtl. hers, she could hear a low murmur of voices, and at last the sound of prayer. She clasped her hands and listened in- tently. " Oh, what a blessing ! " she murmured, " what a blessing to my poor father 1 " CHAPTER XXVI. THE SEQUEL. was indeed so, as Lord Colches- ter often afterwards averred; but' I must briefly explain. The news of his sudden accession to rank and fortune occasioned feelings of pride in the heart of the Englishman; pride which in former years had been his besetting sin, and against the cherishing of which his devoted Chris- tian wife had often warned him. During the years of his dependence his pride had been so effectually subdued that he thought it quelled ; but the moment MelviHe's propo- sals to his daughter opened a way for him to return to his former position in society, the old enemy raUied in all hia strength. (327) 328 LEELINAU. During their journey from Savannah to New York, Warner by his pretentious display of his master's rank, fostered the pride and arrogance which were so pain- ful to Edith. On reaching their destina- tion Mr. Colchester cautioned his daugh- ter against any reference to her late em- ployment. This exhibition of pride so deeply pained the young girl that she wept bitterly. But Mr. Colchester was a Christian ; and therefore he was not long left to cherish sin, rolling it as a sweet morsel under his tongue. He had scarcely reached his hotel, before he was seized with an alarming illness which for a time baffled the skill of his physicians. He went down to the gates of death, where in the near prospect of eternity, he viewed life as it is. The vanity and folly of setting a value on such merely adventitious THE SEQUEL. 329 circumstances as rank or wealth appeared as they had never done before. He mourn- ed his own wickedness. He prayed for strength to be delivered from his old adversary. He confessed his sin, not only to his Maker, but to his daughter and to Warner. He resolved that if his life was spared, this wealth his heavenly Father had bestowed should be used in advanc- ing Christ's kingdom. At the time he was carried on board ship it would have been difficult to find a meeker, more humble Christian. Was it a wonder then, that Edith ex- claimed, on hearing Mr. Wallingford's voice in prayer : "Oh, what a blessing to my poor father 1 " Truly during the fourteen days of their voyage, she found the truth of the inspired declaration : 330 LEELIXAU. " A word spoken in duo season, how good it is 1 " For hours together, Mr. "Wallingford lin- gered by the side of the invalid, reading to him, or discussing those high and holy themes, dear to the heart of both. Sometimes they talked of Edith, who, after the first day was unfortunately confined to her berth with sea-sickness ; and here again they were united in sentiment. Mr. Col- chester had listened to the lover's confes- sion; and after Edith's blushing avowal of affection, he gave them his approbation. It was indeed, an immense relief to the feeble man, to have at his side, one with whom he could form plans to govern him en his arrival in England, and at length it was resolved that Lord Colchester and his daughter, should remain quietly in London, while Mr. "Wai ling-ford ponght Melville and informed him of his cousin's arrival. THE SEQUEL. 331 It was now three months since the in- furiated O'Neil had sought to end his master's life. Beyond the facts contained in "The London Times," they as yet knew nothing. Once in London, Mr. "Wallingford only waited to take lodgings for his friends, and to secure board at a hotel near them, before he waited upon Mr. Goldsborough, the attorney who had been employed to make Lord Dexter's will. Here he ascertained from the clerk, that no answers having been received from ad- vertisements sent to Montreal, the city where they were last heard from, the Park had been let for a year, as Melville pos- itively refused to remain there. lie and his mother were now living in cheap lodgings in Kensington Road, the young man being now her only support. From the office of the attorney, Mr. 332 LEELINAU. Wallingford drove at once to Kensington, but saw only Mrs. Colchester. He left word, however, for the lawyer to call at his hotel on business connected with the late disastrous events. As he expected, this message brought the young lawyer without an hour's delay, after his return from his office. He was a gentleman of frank, pleasing manners, who quickly won his way to Mr. Wallingford's heart, by the terms in which he spoke of his cousin Edith. He appeared embarrassed only when his father's name was mentioned, confessed that the suspicion of conspiracy between his father and O'Neil was the cause of his leav- ing home ; that, though absent, he had never ceased to urge the restoration of the estates to the rightful heirs. It was his opinion that his father, during the latter years of his life, deeply regretted the course he had THE SEQUEL. 333 pursued, which had brought no happiness, but continued misery on himself and fam- ily, that he would have been glad to com- promise, by having Edith become his daughter, and then leaving his estates to her. The interview between Melville and his relatives was at first exceedingly painful; but Edith did not allow her cousin to leave until she had convinced him that the memory of his early kindness had never been effaced. Mr. Wallingford also assured him that he would be a welcome visitor at York- shire, to which they were intending to proceed directly after their marriage. The next morning, Mr. Goldsborough called upon Lord Colchester, offering his hearty congratulations upon the recent discoveries. " In a business-point of view," he re- marked, " Giles has not done injury to the 334 LEELINAF. estate. For a year or two he was very extravagant, but of late, has been almost miserly in his desire to preserve the prop- erty intact. O'Neil, too, was made to disgorge seven thousand pounds, which his threats of pro- claiming the fraud, had wrung from his master." Before he left, the attorney placed in Lord Colchester's hands, the will by which his uncle left him heir of ah 1 that he pos- sessed. The white-haired nobleman was deeply moved, as after glancing at its provisions, he remarked : " This accords exactly with the statement my uncle made in his dying hour." In his after life, Mr. Wallingford was greatly esteemed for his urbanity and kind- ness in his social intercourse ; and respected for his many acts of public munificence, THE SEQUEL. 335 though few of his friends were ever per- mitted, as we have been, to take a peep " Behind the Curtain," or visit Leelinau in her Lodge. 1 A 000 088 320 7