AND! CAPPED' 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 , _ 
 
 -\

 
 / 
 
 HANDICAPPED 
 
 BY 
 
 MARION HARLAND 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 743 AND 745 BROADWAY 
 
 1881
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " THE author who would commend a story to the 
 public by insisting upon the fact that it is a sketch 
 from Nature and substantially true in all its parts, 
 commits a grave blunder. He may be a conscientious 
 portrait-painter, but in the above declaration he writes 
 himself down inartistic and devoid of taste." 
 
 This is the recent deliverance of a respected re- 
 viewer. I am not so rash as to quote the decree in 
 order that I may appeal from it. I hope, rather, to 
 keep the simple tales collected in this volume upon a 
 safe level below his criticism by cataloguing them, 
 "CARTOONS FROM LIFE." 
 
 I claim for them little beyond fidelity to Nature 
 and that they were penned in deep sympathy with 
 the unconscious, and too often (by mankind) uncon- 
 sidered heroism that makes lowly lives sublime in the 
 sight of GOD and His angels. 
 
 I esteem it an honor, not to be lightly held, that I 
 have been permitted to recognize upon so many of 
 earth's dusty highways the trail of an angel's robe ; 
 to discern under homeliest disguises, here, a warrior, 
 and there, a saint. 
 
 MARION HARLAND.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Two i 
 
 THE HEART OF JOHN STEWART 77 
 
 WALL-FLOWERS 101 
 
 ABIGAIL'S WAITING 177 
 
 How " MAD MARCY" WAS TAMED 203 
 
 Lois GRANT AND HER REWARD 251 
 
 ONE OLD MAID 319 
 
 NURSE BROWN'S STORY 345
 
 TWO. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE Rev. George Sherman stood by the open doors 
 of his book-case, turning over the leaves of a volume 
 he had not unclosed since his sophomore year. When 
 he found the passage he sought, he read it aloud, al- 
 though he was alone : 
 
 " Finding, at last, however, that although I had 
 been all this time a very porcupine or hedgehog, brist- 
 ling all over with determination, I had effected noth- 
 ing, it began to occur to me that perhaps Dora's mind 
 was already ' formed.' " 
 
 "flavid Copperfield!" soliloquized the reader, re- 
 storing the book to its place upon the shelf, " I will 
 profit by your experience, and save time, patience, 
 and labor thereby. You and I are not the only men 
 who have been dtsillusionnt by a few months of mar- 
 ried life. Ah, well ! One cannot have all he wants 
 in this world. I may as well recognize this truth now 
 as after years of ineffectual striving and failures. The 
 more moderate my desires, the greater the likelihood 
 of my compassing them." 
 
 He looked like one who would not easily relinquish 
 his hold upon a coveted good ; one whom danger and 
 I
 
 2 Two. 
 
 difficulty would not readily daunt, as he stood at the 
 window of the cottage parsonage, whistling the air of 
 the celebrated " prayer " in " Masaniello," softly and 
 with unconscious expression, his thoughts busy with' 
 subjects totally diverse to the great composer and his 
 music. His hands were clasped behind him, showing 
 Ko advantage his breadth of shoulder and depth of 
 chest. His frame was muscular, his head massive, his 
 features too marked to be regularly handsome. The 
 heavily-moulded chin and full lipsvould have been a 
 decided blemish to his physiognomy, had not the im- 
 pression of animal strength and appetite these con- 
 veyed been neutralized by the fine, clear chiselling of 
 the nostrils and forehead, the steady light of the eyes. 
 Already people began to prophesy that he would 
 "make his mark upon the age," obscure as was his 
 present station a " settlement " in a country neigh- 
 borhood, with no railroad within fifteen miles, over a 
 church that was barely self-supporting, and which did 
 not include in its communion a single person of liberal 
 education or ample means. He tilled this field, un- 
 promising though he must have felt it to be, diligently 
 and with surprising cheerfulness. The unlettered 
 farmer, lifting his head from the furrow over which he 
 stooped with just such dull, patient eyes as his oxen 
 bent on the same, when startled by the ringing shout of 
 greeting from the roadside or adjoining meadow, was 
 glad to see his visitor for his own sake, even more than 
 because he was "the domine." Mr. Sherman did not 
 own a horse, so paid all his pastoral calls on foot ; and 
 when his object was the laborer aforesaid, he would 
 vault the intervening fence or hedge, and stride over
 
 Two. 3 
 
 the uneven ground, swinging his oaken stick and have 
 his friendly say out as he walked beside his parish- 
 ioner. 
 
 " I won't stay unless you go on with your work," he 
 would protest with good-natured obstinacy. " My 
 dear fellow, don't I know how much your time is worth 
 too well to have you give me so much as ten minutes 
 of it?" 
 
 Then he would tramp on, following the ploughman 
 and his yoked co-workers, discoursing in such genial, 
 hearty fashion thatlpthe farmer forgot the heat of the 
 sun and the hard-baked ground. Nothing escaped the 
 notice of the student of mankind and natural laws. 
 He prodded in the fallow ground of Hodge's intellect 
 with his incisive questions and suggestions, as he up- 
 rooted wild carrots and May-weed, and brought to the 
 surface botanical and mineralogical " studies " with 
 the ferrule of his staff. He watched the throes with 
 which the earth yielded virgin mould, unspent gases 
 and salts to the subsoil plough ; the seemingly contra- 
 dictory yet effectual operation of the sharp harrow 
 upon the naked seed ; the springing, budding, and 
 fruiting of the grain ; the harvesting, the threshing, 
 the grinding the ever-renewed, never-ending labors 
 of husbandry with interest the most suspicious critic 
 could not but see was genuine. His parishioners were 
 flattered by his " sociable ways " and lively appreci- 
 ation of their cares and aims the more for the schol- 
 arly reputation he had achieved in college and semi- 
 nary, and of which they still heard occasionally through 
 other clergymen and the few persons of culture and 
 refinement who visited the retired township.
 
 4 Two. 
 
 " He is a plaguy smart man," Farmer Hodge would 
 inform such, in the nasal drawl peculiar to the district, 
 "but not a mite proud. He's sot down in that .very 
 cheer you're in now, by the hour on a winter night, or 
 under the tree with us when we were taking a noon 
 spell in haying or harvesting, and talked to me about 
 old times as my father and grandfather has told me of 
 fur back as the Reverlootionerry War. Ther' ain't 
 a story about a mountain or a tree in these parts he 
 ha'n't learned by heart. As fur farmin', you can't tire 
 him out telling about manures, and seeds, and crops, 
 and the good and bad times of the moon. And as for 
 bugs, and worms, and other animiles lor' bless you ! 
 you can't stump him there. He's a wonderful fellow, 
 is Domine Sherman. And for all he is so learned, his 
 sermons are so plain a child could understand 'em 
 what I call sort of large print as don't try one's 
 eyes ! " 
 
 George Sherman was studying his profession, reap- 
 ing while he sowed beside all waters. Books and lit- 
 tle else had been his helps for ten years. He was 
 learning now from those most marvellous of volumes 
 too often hopelessly hieroglyphical to those of his 
 calling the human heart and the open page of Nature ; 
 storing up fact, illustration, and analogy that should 
 be more to him than gold or precious stones in days 
 to come. 
 
 While in college, he had fallen in love with the 
 pretty face and engaging demeanor of Annie Deane, 
 sister-in-law to one of the professors, and, a year after 
 his settlement in Wilkeston, had married her. She 
 had been mistress of the parsonage seven months at
 
 Two. 5 
 
 the date of this chapter, and even in the estimation 
 of the farmers' wives who had looked dubious at sight 
 of her curling hair and fashionable trousseau, bade fair 
 to become an excellent housekeeper. She had need to 
 be a wise manager for her husband's salary was small 
 and his ideas large. A dollar to him was a coin or a 
 bit of paper that should without useless delay be ex- 
 changed for happiness in some shape either increase 
 his own comfort or that of some one who needed as- 
 sistance more than he did. While he had money he 
 was on the look-out for opportunities to spend it. 
 When it had gone he felt a sensible relief a want of 
 responsibility that left him free to study, to plan, and 
 to dream. He preached his best sermons when his 
 pockets were empty he used to say laughingly " per- 
 haps because he carried less weight than when his 
 purse was plethoric." Annie was an orphan and so 
 nearly portionless that her brothers and sisters eked 
 out the furnishment of her house by gifts of glate, 
 table and bed-linen. Her brother-in-law's wedding 
 present to her was a check for a hundred dollars, 
 which, like a provident woman, she deposited at once 
 in the savings' bank. It was drawn out at her first 
 visit to her old home, three months after her mar- 
 riage, but stealthily, without the knowledge of the 
 donor, her sister, or even George. 
 
 " My wedding-fees all go for bread-and-butter," a 
 clergyman's wife once complained to me confidentially. 
 " I would not mind spending them for articles of use 
 to my family which would add much to our comfort, 
 while they are not exactly indispensable. But it is 
 trying to hear them spoken of as my ' perquisites,'
 
 6 Two. 
 
 when I know they will meet the next butcher's or 
 grocer's bill that comes in when the exchequer is nearly 
 exhausted. The worst of it is, I have not even my 
 husband's sympathy in the sacrifice. He pleases him- 
 self by imagining, I believe poor, dear fellow ! that 
 I invest all these windfalls in candy, or laces, or some 
 other commodity in which women take delight, and I 
 .dare not let him guess what really becomes of them. 
 He so enjoys giving them to me that I indulge the 
 harmless fiction of my private purse." 
 
 It Jiurt Annie Sherman, who was yet no miser, to 
 pay out the whole of her precious hoard for coal, po- 
 tatoes and other homely necessaries of existence, but 
 she had no option. These things must be had and 
 George was penniless. He mentioned this circum- 
 stance incidentally to her the evening they reached 
 her sister's. 
 
 " Dear George ! " she cried, aghast. " Why, then, 
 did YOU insist upon my coming here ? How are we to 
 get back?" 
 
 He laughed. " ' Sufficient unto the day is the evil 
 thereof,' my love ! I have faith to believe that the 
 money will come when the pinching need arrives. I 
 have always been helped along in some way without 
 borrowing or otherwise sacrificing my independence. 
 We can hire a barrel-organ and play ourselves across 
 the country, if nothing else turns up. You can ride 
 on the top. People would give you pennies and nuts 
 sooner than to a monkey." 
 
 He did not inquire how the means were procured 
 for their return journey, nor whence came the sums 
 that met their household expenses until that quarter's
 
 Two. 7 
 
 salary was due. The probability, which amounted to 
 a certainty in his wife's mind, was that he had forgot- 
 ten the whole matter of his impecuniosity. He was 
 "absent-minded " with respect to the daily needs and 
 practicalities of home-life, she had discovered. 
 
 " My wife is the princess of financiers," he declared 
 one day to a brother clergyman in her presence. " I 
 don't carry a pocket-book at all now-a-days. She is 
 the fairy, the tap of whose wand brings dinner and 
 breakfast-tables ready-spread through the floor. I 
 obey literally the injunction to take no thought what 
 I shall eat, drink, or wear." 
 
 She was a generous little soul, and loved him too 
 dearly to parade the self-denials she practised for his 
 benefit ; but the " bread-and-butter " purchased by her 
 wedding-gift had an ill flavor for her, and every dollar 
 that thus passed from her hands preached its warning 
 sermon to heart and conscience. She wished minis- 
 ters were better paid and that they understood the 
 value of money as well as they did the doctrines 
 of election and free agency; had as clear views of 
 prices current and the quantity of groceries, etc., 
 requisite to feed their families as they had of Sheol 
 and Hades and the like mysteries. But since this 
 might not be for the wishing, nor for any argu- 
 ments or persuasions she could offer, she must study 
 carefulness in the minutest detail of her small house- 
 keeping. There were no more savings' bank deposits 
 to call upon in future straits. She screwed her courage 
 up on the next quarter-day to suggest a plan she had 
 revolved in her mind constantly for a month past. 
 
 " I wish you would give me a stated allowance for
 
 8 Two. 
 
 family expenses, George," she said, entering the study 
 as soon as the treasurer who, she knew, had come to 
 pay " the domine's " salary, had departed. " It is not 
 easy to make our income meet even our ' must haves,' 
 let me be as prudent as I will. But I can manage bet- 
 ter if I go entirely upon the cash principle. When the 
 money is not there I must curtail my expenditures." 
 
 She said it with a nervous little laugh, and was not 
 encouraged to urge her plea when George, who was 
 walking up and down the floor with his hands behind 
 him, stopped and stared silently at her. He was 
 never cross with her, but his look showed plainly that 
 the interruption of his train of thought was unwel- 
 come. She faltered out the explanation his eye de- 
 manded. 
 
 "An allowance, dear! If you wouldn't mind setting 
 aside a certain proportion of y v our salary for provisions 
 and would let me pay it out as I have need" 
 
 " Oh ! " he uttered, and, still abstractedly, handed 
 her a roll of bank-bills. 
 
 She discovered when she counted them over in her 
 own room that he had given her the entire quarter's 
 salary. 
 
 " Just like him ! He is as liberal as he is absent- 
 minded ! " murmured the wife, tears moistening her 
 blue eyes. "After all, how should he or any other 
 student know anything about housewifery ? His 
 thoughts are engrossed by higher themes. Every- 
 thing relating to these belittling cares is irksome to 
 him. They should be my province. Shall I shirk my 
 share of the burden when he has his career and his 
 reputation to make and " reverently " the Mas-
 
 Two. 9 
 
 ter's work to do ? Not while I have strength to stand 
 between him and all that could divert his mind from 
 his noble mission ! " 
 
 To keep her resolution she labored faithfully ; con- 
 trived and pondered and trimmed lopping off this 
 and that " may want," and examining narrowly into 
 the credentials of " must haves," until there were 
 tight plaits between her eyebrows which did not 
 always relax entirely when others were by to note 
 and conjecture concerning them. To spare him 
 anxiety she wrought ceaselessly with hands and wits 
 from morning until midnight. " Help " was scarce in 
 that region, and when procurable, usually very indif- 
 ferent, and Mrs. Sherman's maid-of-all-work " bettered 
 herself " about four months after she began house- 
 keeping, by going to an easier place at higher wages. 
 Her late mistress installed no one in her place. 
 
 " There are only two of us," she represented to her 
 neighbors who " did their own work." " George lets 
 me have my own way in the house, and since I prefer 
 an active life and am fond of cooking, I shall hire 
 somebody to do our washing and ironing. The rest I 
 can manage without trouble." 
 
 " The rest " meant milking, churning, scrubbing, 
 and general cleaning, in addition to the kitchen work. 
 At first the washerwoman came two days in the week 
 at fifty cents a day ; then, feeling the call for four 
 dollars a month a serious drain upon her slender 
 means, Annie employed her only on Mondays and 
 did the ironing herself, rising as early as four or five 
 o'clock on Tuesday morning that she might get what 
 the matrons thereabouts called " the heft of the work "
 
 10 
 
 Two. 
 
 out of the way before George came down to prayers. 
 Fond as she was of her husband she was almost glad 
 on washing, ironing, or baking days when he took 
 dinner or supper away from home. She prepared no 
 regular meal on these occasions ; only appeased her 
 faint stomach with a sandwich as often as not omit- 
 ting the meat that George's supper or breakfast might 
 be the more savory and a glass of milk. The Chi- 
 nese herb was too dear for her to become a tea-tippler 
 after the fashion of so many overworked women. 
 This slight refreshment she generally ate standing, 
 then pushed on with her load. It went hard with her, 
 this stress of unaccustomed toil. A busy bee she 
 had been always, but the employments of her girlhood 
 were lighter and more elegant. There was no one to 
 interpose remonstrance or aid. She did no more than 
 other wives and mothers about her were compelled to 
 perform, said lookers-on of her own sex, forgetting the 
 vast difference between their early training and hers. 
 These were kind-hearted in their way, ready with use- 
 ful advice when she was at a loss, and generous 
 according to the pattern of giving known to the com- 
 munity. Many a pumpkin-pie and rice-pudding, a 
 baking of rusk or biscuit in " killing-time," sausage, 
 spare-rib and chine many a pat of butter, roll of 
 pot-cheese and saucer of honey came to the parson- 
 age kitchen from those of "the people " who honored 
 and loved their domine and had a sincere liking for 
 his nice wife. Homely compliments were often 
 brought to her from this and that notable house- 
 keeper praise that gratified her because it showed 
 that she was a helpmeet, not a hindrance, to him who
 
 Two. 1 1 
 
 made her world. Nobody said to her, "You are 
 overtaxing your strength, enfeebling your nervous 
 forces perhaps shortening your life. Moreover and 
 to this you should give diligent heed you are culti- 
 vating the affections at the expense of the mind ; 
 guarding your idol from present inconvenience, it is 
 true, but surely, if gradually, dividing his sphere from 
 yours making of your lives two, not one." 
 
 She had never been brilliant or profound. She was 
 sprightly and intelligent, with a retentive memory and 
 a commendable stock of facts and precepts gathered 
 from school books and the " course of reading " which 
 every theological student or graduate feels himself 
 called upon to prescribe for his admiring betrothed. 
 To please George and to render herself more fit to be 
 the companion of one so rarely gifted, she had "kept 
 up " her French and dabbled in Latin under the tuition 
 of her brother-in-law. She had also penned weekly 
 essays upon given subjects, or abstracts of her latest 
 readings, which were dutifully forwarded to her lover. 
 He had thought them very charming, read in the light 
 of those days chiefly, it must be owned, because 
 they were written at his request. Her chirography 
 was graceful her sentences grammatical. As to 
 originality or strength he never expected or looked 
 for signs of these essentials to a really good essay. 
 He wanted a wife, not a pedant. He was by no 
 means insensible as we have seen to the reform she 
 had wrought in his outward estate. A man with his 
 mouth and chin must of necessity like to be well-fed 
 and well-kept. He had a home orderly, comfortable, 
 tasteful. His daily fare was cooked to a charm and
 
 12 Two. 
 
 always daintily served ; his buttons and strings sewed 
 on tightly ; his clothes laid ready to his hand, instead 
 of being huddled in wild confusion in all sorts of un- 
 likely places ; and his study hours were religiously 
 respected. All this he perceived and was grateful to 
 her to whom he owed these advantages. He was 
 affectionate in disposition, and if his married life was 
 not the scene of unmingled rapture he had pictured it 
 to himself in his boyish visions when he quoted Moore 
 by the page and Byron by the canto, he was honestly 
 attached to his blue-eyed " angel in the house " this 
 was his favorite title for her enjoyed the petting and 
 adoration he received from her and was benign and 
 loving in return. 
 
 Nor was he wholly neglectful of her intellectual cul- 
 ture while devoting so much time and thought to his 
 own. Almost immediately after their establishment 
 in their cottage, he had begun a system of fireside 
 readings which were maintained with tolerable regu- 
 larity. Annie made a pleasant picture to his artistic 
 eye, as she sat near him, her fair head bent over her 
 needle, while he read aloud in some instructive book 
 selected by himself always instructive, even when it 
 was Racine or Virgil. He would polish up her French 
 and Latin at stated intervals in this way, and intro- 
 duced in their turn to her notice and understanding 
 treatises upon natural and mental philosophy, rhetoric 
 and history. He never catechized her, for he was too 
 true a gentleman to treat her as he would a thought- 
 less, idle child, and he believed implicitly in her atten- 
 tive mien and the apparent pleasure with which she 
 listened. She always thanked him warmly at the
 
 Two. 1 3 
 
 close of the sitting for " the treat he had given 
 her." 
 
 " You are so good, darling," she would subjoin, " to 
 bestow so much time and pains upon me! I cannot 
 tell you how I enjoy these dear home evenings. I 
 look forward to each all day long." 
 
 She did not add that it so rested and charmed her 
 to be with him in the seclusion of their own dwelling 
 that she would not have been discontented had he 
 slept away the hours in his easy-chair, so long as he 
 was in her sight ; that his voice was such perfect music 
 in her ear she would have listened enchanted had he 
 discoursed in Greek or Hebrew. How was he to sus- 
 pect that his French and Latin authors were quite as 
 obscure to her understanding as Homer or Isaiah in 
 the originals would have been ? nay, more, that his 
 scientific and art-treatises were but one degree more 
 intelligible ? She had fallen into the habit of follow- 
 ing out her own reflections and fancies, while he im- 
 agined that he was improving her mind by the strong 
 meat he digested with ease and delight. While his 
 accents caressed her hearing and calmed her whole 
 being, she had hopeful meditations upon to-morrow's 
 dinner and next week's wash and Friday's mending ; 
 how she could alter the flounces upon her last sum- 
 mer's grenadine and make it long enough for this 
 year's fashion, and there would be one thin dress for 
 church and company ; how she could make new 
 bosoms and wristbands for the most worn of George's 
 shirts out of a piece of fine linen left over from her 
 wedding clothes ; how, if he would only take tea out 
 two evenings this week she could make the butter
 
 14 Two. 
 
 "last " until Saturday's churning; how glad she would 
 be when the cow should " come in " in June and they 
 have an abundance of milk. With plenty of milk and 
 eggs one could get up so many delicious and inexpen- 
 sive dishes! Paltry, ignoble dreams and plans they 
 were, all of them, but her life was made up of^ such 
 trifles. They were matters of moment almost of life 
 and death to her. They meant bodily comfort and 
 strength to her husband and herself, and were inter- 
 fused with such wifely piety, such purity and single- 
 ness of desire for his welfare, his happiness, that the 
 recording angel could not write them down as mean 
 or trivial. 
 
 Moreover, she was too weary to bend her mind to 
 anything else. Her back ached, her shoulders were stiff, 
 and her fingers were growing rough and awkward at 
 the fine sewing in which she used to be an adept. 
 She never complained of these discomforts. That was 
 not the way to help George and these three words 
 were her talisman in seasons of perplexity and toil. 
 He had to work hard, she was continually reminding 
 herself when her feet grew heavy and her head un- 
 steady, and could she be recreant with such an exam- 
 ple before her? She liked to have him read to her in 
 the evenings, for she was too tired to talk much, and 
 since the family mending and making over must he 
 done, she could hardly have kept awake but for his 
 presence and the full, heartening tones that cheered 
 her as the Arab's chant enlivens his drooping beast of 
 burden. 
 
 It was on a warm Tuesday afternoon in early June 
 that George, who had left home soon after dinner, ex-
 
 Two. 15 
 
 pecting to sup at Farmer Lawson's, five miles away, 
 walked into the parsonage yard, accompanied by a 
 stranger. The Venetian blinds that did duty as a 
 front door in summer were closed, and they paused 
 upon the porch to breathe the delicious air and look 
 down the valley. There was a smell of clover and 
 new-mown hay in the breeze that was rising as the 
 sun sank toward the mountainous horizon; honey- 
 suckle and sweetbriar wreathed the rustic pillars of the 
 piazza and hid the rude trellis that supported their 
 stems. 
 
 " A wren's nest of a place, you see but it is home J " 
 said George's rich voice, with the unmistakable ca- 
 dence of glad gratitude vibrating in every word. 
 
 Then he raised the door-latch and invited his friend 
 into the hall. An ironing-table stood midway between 
 the front and rear entrances, and a clothes-basket 
 heaped with " done up " articles, barred the way to 
 the parlor. An undergarment, half-ironed, was spread 
 upon the table and the smoothing-iron stood on its 
 trivet close by. 
 
 " What under the sun does all this mean ? " ejacu- 
 lated George, in laughing wonderment. He pulled 
 the basket aside, shooting a pile of shirts that lay on 
 the top pell-mell upon the oil-cloth and kicked one 
 out of his path. " Walk in, Armstrong ! I am afraid 
 my wife is not in. She did not expect me home to 
 tea. But I'll hunt her up. Excuse me for a mo- 
 ment ! " 
 
 In the kitchen he found Annie, actually pallid with 
 distress. 
 
 " Oh, dearest ! " she began, " I am so sorry ! It is
 
 1 6 Two. 
 
 awfully hot in here, and I have had a raging headache 
 all day and the hall was cooler " 
 
 " Were jjw* ironing? " seeing no one else present. 
 " I thought you hired a woman to do that sort of 
 work." 
 
 " I did, but she did not understand getting up 
 starched clothes, and I really like it. I do, indeed." 
 
 George shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Cliacun & son gotit. Mine wouldn't be for clear- 
 starching in summer. It is as hot in here as Tophet." 
 He could hardly breathe, coming in, as he did, from 
 the scented freshness of the outer world and made 
 quick work of his errand. " I've brought home my 
 old friend and classmate, Armstrong. You remember 
 him? I met him in the stage, just this side of Law- 
 son's. He will spend to-night with us. He has been 
 travelling all day, and I suppose would like a substan- 
 tial supper. Or," with a dawning sense of the un- 
 promising situation, " perhaps I had better take him 
 to Joynes'? " a small tavern half a mile distant. 
 
 "George! as if I would let you think of such a 
 thing!" gasped Annie, who had sunk into the nearest 
 chair at the announcement of a visitor for the night. 
 " I can't promise you a very nice supper, but I will do 
 my best. Please shut the parlor-door that I may get 
 my ironing-board and clothes-basket out of the way. 
 Then I'll run up-stairs and put the spare bedroom in 
 order. It is a pity I beat up the bed yesterday and 
 left it unmade to air. As soon as it is ready and I 
 have carried up fresh water, I will tap at the door of 
 the parlor to let you know." 
 
 It did not occur to the Rev. George, as he returned
 
 Two. 17 
 
 to his classmate, and shut the door after him, accord- 
 ing to directions, that it would be a manly, no less 
 than a benevolent deed for him to relieve his wife of 
 some of the labors thus suddenly thrown upon her ; 
 that his strong arms could hardly be more mercifully 
 employed than in tossing over the mattresses in the 
 spare chamber ; in drawing water for the ewer there, 
 and then to replenish the tea-kettle ; in lifting the 
 ironing-table back to its place in the kitchen and car- 
 rying the loaded basket up-stairs ; and that his self- 
 respect would suffer no damage if he further burdened 
 her soul with thankfulness by offering to set the tea- 
 equipage in order in the dining-room, while Mr. Arm- 
 strong was busy with his toilet. If the suggestion 
 had been made by another, he would have done all 
 this and more with hearty good-will ; for he really 
 pitied the wearied and warm worker in the stifling 
 kitchen as he washed off the dust of his walk in spark- 
 ling cold water over the washstand in his breezy 
 chamber above stairs ; brushed his boots, coat, and 
 hair ; indulged himself in a spotless shirt, wondering, 
 as he put it on, at Annie's queer taste about clear- 
 starching, and observing how beautifully pure and 
 glossy were bosom and cuffs. Then he ran down- 
 stairs, humming a college-song, to which Armstrong 
 added a second as he came out upon the porch a few 
 minutes later. They walked and talked there to- 
 gether, taking in deep, refreshing draughts of the 
 balmy air, and watching the brightening dyes of the 
 sunset clouds, the purple bloom of the mountains 
 beneath, until the timid tinkle of the bell called them 
 to the evening meal.
 
 1 8 Two. 
 
 Annie had snatched time to slip on another dress 
 a blue lawn, which was becoming to her a year ago 
 and to smooth her hair. But her complexion was 
 sadly muddied by the red-hot stove, and could not be 
 cleared in her present state of nervous agitation. She 
 looked hot and hurried and the plaits between her 
 brows showed very plainly even when she tried to 
 smile her greetings to the guest. George confessed 
 reluctantly to himself that he had never seen her 
 when she was less pretty ; and Mr. Armstrong, who 
 remembered Annie Deane fresh and fair as the sweet- 
 briar roses he had just left, lamented secretly that 
 blondes " went off " so soon after they were married 
 or had any experience of the realities of life. So con- 
 scious was the hostess of the unsuitableness of the 
 impromptu repast to the needs of a hungry man, that 
 she commenced an eager apology poor child ! by 
 the time George finished saying grace. 
 
 " I can offer you nothing more substantial as a relish 
 than cottage cheese, Mr. Armstrong," she said to the 
 elegant young lawyer. " If I had had notice of your 
 coming, I would have had broiled chicken, or ham, or 
 something nourishing. The biscuits are a trifle too 
 brown, I am sorry to see, George, but the ovens get 
 so hot on ironing-day. I wish I could give you a cup 
 of nice coffee, Mr. Armstrong. George and I never 
 drink it, so we rarely keep any in the house." 
 
 Here George frowned at her and checked her reve- 
 lations ; put her down at the same time for the rest 
 of the evening, so abashed was she at the remotest 
 intimation of his disapproval. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before she presented herself in
 
 Two. 19 
 
 the parlor where the friends sat at the moonlighted 
 window. Their gay voices and occasional bursts of 
 laughter had made the kitchen, where she stood wash- 
 ing up the tea-things and setting the sponge for the 
 morrow's baking, seem hotter and closer than she had 
 ever felt it before. Both arose at her entrance and 
 Mr. Armstrong, setting forward the easiest chair in 
 the room for her, seated himself by her and tried to 
 draw her into conversation. 
 
 There is such a thing as being out of society trim. 
 Want of practice in small talk, ignorance of the pop- 
 ular themes at present current in society, general rusti- 
 ness in repartee and embarrassment at being addressed 
 in what sounds like a forgotten tongue all these had 
 grown upon Annie with rapidity and force during her 
 half-year's sojourn in Wilkeston, and the study and 
 practice of the numberless minute economies which 
 were a part of her system of helping George. She 
 despised herself for the dismay with which she recol- 
 lected that there was no hope now of the butter 
 " lasting," and that the breakfast omelette would take 
 seven eggs ; that the forty cents she had sent by a 
 neighbor's child to " the store " for a pound of coffee 
 was a formidable deduction from her little supply of 
 ready money. But her mind would stray back to these 
 reflections and her heart ache over her impoverish- 
 ment as at real bereavement. She so wanted to keep 
 even with the world ! To contract a debt was to fall 
 hopelessly behind-hand, for they had never a penny to 
 spare for settling back accounts. To slip in this nar- 
 row, steep path was to tumble headlong. Then she 
 was tired, with that horrible feeling of " goneness "
 
 2O TWO. 
 
 that has its headquarters just below the breast-bone 
 with women, concerning which it is useless to talk with 
 men the favored ones to whom hysteria is terra in- 
 cognita. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong spoke of the loveliness of her valley- 
 home, grew enthusiastic in description of the various 
 scenes through which he had passed in his tour and 
 she assented to everything with a forced smile and a 
 hackneyed phrase. " Yes, very much so ! " " Do you 
 think so? " " Ah ! " and " Indeed ! " succeeded each 
 other slowly and mechanically, growing flatter with 
 every repetition and George fidgeted in actual tor- 
 ment. Mr. Armstrong supposed she shared in her hus- 
 band's fondness for walking and climbing, that his fa- 
 vorite views were likewise hers. 
 
 " I hardly ever go out, except on Sundays," was the 
 answer. " I am a great home-body. George's busi- 
 ness obliges him to be abroad a great deal. He must 
 visit his congregation. My work is in the house." 
 
 " He tells me you are a model housewife. You 
 must not scold him for telling tales out of school. 
 We were boys together, you know, and whatever re- 
 lates to him interests me." 
 
 " Yes ! " said Annie, seeing he expected some reply, 
 and trying to arouse herself to be pleased at his praises 
 of herself and friendship for her husband. 
 
 She fancied, but she might have been mistaken, that 
 she heard George, who sat back in the shadow, gnash 
 his teeth she had no idea upon what provocation. 
 
 " He has been exciting my envy yet more," pursued 
 the man of the world, bent upon putting his shy com- 
 panion at her ease, " by describing your study-even-
 
 Two. 21 
 
 ings. He leaves no means untried to cure me of my 
 bachelor proclivities. He was always a walking ency- 
 clopaedia of art and literature. It is fortunate that he 
 has married one who can sympathize with and aid 
 him in the pursuits he loves so well. So you have 
 been reading" 
 
 A list of books and authors followed. A deadly, 
 creeping cold passed from Annie's heart to the very 
 tips of her fingers and toes ; stirred the roots of her 
 hair, as he proceeded to ask her opinion of one and 
 another, their style, their theories, the force or sophis- 
 try of their arguments, the fairness or illogical nature 
 of their deductions. It was all a confusing jargon. 
 She could not have told whether Lord Rosse was fa- 
 mous for his big telescope, or if he had discovered the 
 North Pole ; whether Corneille wrote tragedies, or 
 comedies, or history, or in what language. At the 
 third pause in Mr. Armstrong's monologue, he began 
 to suspect that she was wildly at sea ; at the next, he 
 understood that she was completely swamped. She 
 was too weary and frightened to turn the conversation 
 into other channels as a cunning woman would have 
 done, or to pretend to knowledge she did not possess, a 
 ruse one less truthful would have attempted. She sat 
 dumb and stupid in an agony of shame, and longing 
 to hide her disgraced head somewhere the head that 
 throbbed with such pain. She thought with desire 
 of the cool and darkness of the grave. George came 
 to the rescue just in season to prevent a burst of hys- 
 terical tears. He wanted to show Mr. Armstrong the 
 valley and the river threading it, from the hill back of 
 the parsonage. When they returned from their moon-
 
 22 
 
 Two. 
 
 light stroll Mrs. Sherman had retired to her own 
 room. 
 
 The mortifications of the evening were never men- 
 tioned between husband and wife. She was inex- 
 pressibly relieved and humbly grateful for George's 
 forbearance ; ready to kiss his feet in worshipful love, 
 because his behavior to her that night and next morn- 
 ing was exactly the same as usual. She was not privy 
 to his consultation with David Coppcrfield after Mr. 
 Armstrong's departure ; did not dream then that he 
 had abandoned the task of forming his Dora's mind. 
 He reasoned the matter out coolly and clearly with 
 himself. Annie was incurably domestic and common- 
 place. This did not oblige him to curb his natural 
 love of learning or abate the ardor of his pursuit of 
 eminence in his profession and the means of useful- 
 ness to his kind. Since he could not take her with 
 him up the heights, she must lag behind. He could 
 still be an exemplary husband ; still cherish and love 
 the wife of his youth. This resolution was the visible 
 beginning of the parting of their ways, and feeling 
 that this was so he made it deliberately and conscien- 
 tiously. He gave up trying to elevate her intellect 
 and cultivate her imagination. She was a good wo- 
 man, true in heart, upright in principle, constant and 
 fervent in endeavor to discharge her duty to her 
 Creator and her fellow-creatures, pure in thought and 
 deed and she loved him with all her might. I am 
 afraid he said, " her little might." If so, he only 
 adopted the opinion of other men as learned an.l as 
 just, in assuming that mediocrity of mental powers and 
 shallowness of heart are inseparable.
 
 Two. 23 
 
 The report carried by Mr. Armstrong into the outer 
 world of his friend's talents led to results seriously af- 
 fecting the Shermans' after-life. The one of these 
 which was soonest apparent was a correspondence with 
 a literary journal of some note which brought a small 
 but welcome addition to their income. 
 
 " How kind in Mr. Armstrong ! " exclaimed Annie, 
 with glistening eyes, as her husband tossed a ten dol- 
 lar bill into her lap the payment for his first article. 
 " I always believed that if your talents were but known 
 you could make a handsome living." 
 
 George laughed carelessly, not sneeringly, yet some- 
 thing in the sound brought a flush to her cheek. 
 
 " Don't misunderstand me," she said, eagerly. " I 
 know, of course, that you lobk for other and higher 
 rewards " 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself to explain, dear." George 
 patted her head. " I comprehend just what you would 
 say. You are a dear, sweet wife a jewel of a practi- 
 cal woman. Perhaps we are better mated than if we 
 were more alike." 
 
 In spite of his kindness the impression made by the 
 unfortunate scene with his college-mate lingered per- 
 sistently and painfully in her memory. Divining, by 
 and by, with the ready intuition of a sore-hearted 
 woman, the cause of the change in George's educa- 
 tional tactics, she made up a stout mind to " improve " 
 herself. She abstracted, one volume at a time, Hal- 
 lam's Middle Ages from her spouse's bookshelves as 
 a promising specimen brick of solid literature, and 
 gnawed at it secretly, like a conscientious mouse at a 
 tough rind of cheese, at every odd moment, propping
 
 24 Two. 
 
 the book up in unconscious plagiarism of Emily 
 Bronte, in front of her bread-tray, and snatching para- 
 graphs when she rested for a few seconds on the churn- 
 dasher. It was mouldy, as well as tough. Ironing in 
 the dog-days was easier and more entertaining ; but 
 she held on womanfully and nibbled her way out to 
 " Finis " in three months. Being far from well now, 
 and feeling the need of lighter intellectual diet, she at- 
 tacked Pollock's " Course of Time." She got along 
 faster with this, for it was " quite suitable Sunday 
 reading," and she was often too much indisposed to at- 
 tend church that fall. She did not skip a word ; marked 
 carefully each day the line at which she left off and re- 
 sumed at that point on the morrow. The second un- 
 dertaking was completed, without serious damage to 
 health or spirits, one gloomy November Sabbath, when 
 George, coming in at the close of afternoon service, 
 beheld her fast asleep upon the 4ounge, the book on 
 the floor at her side. 
 
 He picked it up, smiled pityingly and indulgently 
 in glancing from the title to her face which even in 
 slumber had not lost the wan, harassed expression 
 the wise women of the congregation assured him was 
 perfectly natural and would pass away in due time. 
 
 " Poor Pussy ! No wonder she is exhausted," he 
 said, under his breath. " She selected it because it 
 looked religious I suppose and did not read a dozen 
 lines before succumbing to its soporific effect." 
 
 Their first child was born that night a fine girl, so 
 like her father that the proud wife and mother would 
 hear of no name but Georgina for her. In three weeks 
 she dismissed the hired nurse and resumed her place
 
 Two. 25 
 
 as housekeeper and servant-in-general, winning higher 
 encomiums than ever from the clever managers of the 
 parish upon her " faculty " and energy. Little Harry 
 came next, eighteen months later ; two years after- 
 ward, Willie ; and Baby Emma was six months old 
 when Mr. Sherman accepted a call to Aiken, a sea- 
 board manufacturing town. The church that desired 
 his services was an important one and the salary quad- 
 ruple what he now received. Annie cried herself to 
 sleep in silent joyfulness the night on which George 
 announced to her his decision. She was like one long 
 imprisoned when he hears his cell-door unbarred and 
 knows it means liberty. Her present life was slavery, 
 however cheerfully she might perform the labors 
 crowded into the working-day which for her was never 
 less than sixteen hours long. Her lungs, physical and 
 spiritual, ached for one full, free respiration such as 
 she had not had time to take since Georgie's birth. 
 
 " My faith in your final success has never wavered," 
 she said to her husband, her face alight with prideful 
 pleasure. 
 
 And he answered with the gesture and smile she 
 remembered as well as if she had seen them first but 
 yesterday, " You told me once I recollect that my 
 talents would earn me a living in time. I am glad, for 
 your sake, dearie, that there is a prospect of this. 
 Still, lowly as is my position here, we have had a very 
 happy, restful time in this, our first home. We shall 
 hardly be so care-free and independent in a city." 
 
 " Restful ! " repeated Annie's heart, with a groan, 
 but she held her peace. Was not the day of her de- 
 liverance at hand ?
 
 PART II. 
 
 " WHAT is the reason that, while clergymen are pro- 
 verbially careless about business matters, and have 
 a very imperfect appreciation of the value of money, 
 their wives so often develop parsimonious traits ? learn 
 the practice, not only of small economies in their own 
 households, but also of cunning play upon the sympa- 
 thies and means of others ? " said a lady to me once. 
 " Some of the most adroit beggars I have ever known, 
 and, beyond all question, the sharpest managers, were 
 the partners of popular preachers." 
 
 To which I replied : " She is dull indeed who does 
 not learn in the school of Necessity, and that soul is 
 of purest metal that does not tarnish in such an at- 
 mosphere of fretting anxieties and noisome dreads 
 and corrosive disappointments as surrounds the 
 modern pastor's wife. That there are exceptions to 
 the universality of the latter situation, I cheerfully, 
 gratefully admit, but they are notable and not numer- 
 ous. That the pastor himself so frequently passes 
 through the test unharmed is usually because the 
 active wits and unceasing care of his helpmeet guard 
 him from the influences that dwarf and canker her." 
 
 Annie Sherman had dreamed of rest, appreciation 
 and help in her new home and in the imposing recep- 
 tion that greeted them there she tasted the first deli- 
 26
 
 Two. 27 
 
 cious drops of the cup in which she was to forget 
 toils and dangers overpast. Her cramped nature 
 seemed to expand ; the heart, so long stifled by the 
 mighty aggregate of petty duties and trials, beat al- 
 most lightly. The parsonage was a modern, showy 
 building, and the ladies of the congregation had 
 carpeted it throughout, entirely furnished the parlors 
 and study. The house was filled on the evening of 
 the day succeeding the Shermans' arrival. A com- 
 mittee of ladies had taken possession of the premises 
 at noon, and under their direction preparations for the 
 festival were made upon a scale that seemed princely 
 to the unsophisticated eyes regarding them. Mrs. 
 Sherman had never seen anything like it in all her 
 previous life, and the children betrzyed their rustic 
 breeding, despite her repeated checks, by exclama- 
 tions of the wildest amaze and delight. If anything 
 could have marred the mother's pleasure, it would 
 have been the glimpses she caught now and then of 
 amused and meaning smiles exchanged between the 
 ladies, who treated the little ones to all sorts of delica- 
 cies, hitherto unknown to their palates, and answered 
 their questions with unfailing good-humor. This was 
 the first shadow that fell athwart the new-born bright- 
 ness of her spirit but it was only a passing mortifica- 
 tion. Children would be children, and they would 
 soon become used to that which now excited their as- 
 tonishment. Her complacency had a severer blow 
 before the business of the evening fairly began. 
 
 Nothing doubting that the committee would remain 
 where they were until the company assembled, she 
 slipped away from them as darkness came on and ar-
 
 28 Two. 
 
 rayed herself carefully in her gala costume a brown 
 silk, with raised satin figures of the same hue upon it. 
 " Brocade," it was called in its day, which was the 
 winter of her marriage, and, like most marked styles, 
 it soon " went out." Annie had taken great care of 
 the dress had made it over this season and re-trimmed 
 it with brown velvet, not grudging the expense that 
 made it look " quite as good as new." She remarked 
 upon the excellence of the texture and fit and the 
 general freshness of the whole robe while she got her- 
 self ready. 
 
 " It is a comfort to feel that one is well-dressed ! " 
 she said to George, who was shaving in the same room. 
 " And brown is such a modest, serviceable color ! One 
 is never overdressed in a small company, or feels out 
 of place in a large assembly, when she has it on." 
 
 George let her twitter on as he would a small brown 
 wren, and thought his own thoughts, never so much 
 as looking at her when she pronounced the new blue 
 cravat her sister had sent her at Christmas, " such a 
 lovely contrast " to her dress ; assented pleasantly to 
 the supposition that she " had better go down, in case 
 anybody should come a little ahead of time." 
 
 The supper, with the exception of creams and other 
 perishable edibles, was laid in the dining-room, the 
 parlors were ablaze with gas, and Mrs. Hayward, 
 the chief manager of the entertainment, attended by 
 three other ladies, was taking a final survey of the ar- 
 rangements for doing their pastor and themselves 
 honor. She was a handsome woman a widow of 
 large means and much popular talent, the recognized 
 leader in the church and a personage of consequence
 
 Two. 29 
 
 in the community. Her satisfied smile showed how 
 well she had acquitted herself in the present enter- 
 prise. Mr. Sherman was her chosen candidate out of 
 all who had preached in the vacant pulpit, and she 
 meant the reception to be a "sensation." . 
 
 " I am glad you have looked in upon us, Mrs. Sher- 
 man," she said, at Annie's entrance. " I am just going 
 home. The carriage has been waiting some time. I 
 shall return in less than an hour be the first on the 
 ground. You have nothing to do but to dress and 
 rest until we come back. If we have seemed a little 
 arbitrary in refusing to allow you to assist us, it was 
 because we wanted you to be bright and fresh for the 
 evening. Ah, Mr. Sherman ! " this radiantly, as George 
 appeared. " We are in flight, I assure you ! We trust 
 you to see that Mrs. Sherman does not weary herself 
 in body and mind until we rally to her assistance in 
 force. Au revoir /" 
 
 George handed the First Directress and her aides 
 into the carriage, talking easily and gallantly on the 
 way, shut them in and bowed them off. 
 
 " As if he had done the same every day of his life," 
 reflected Annie, viewing it all from the entry. " I am 
 glad he feels so much at home. They overpower me 
 somewhat these fine ladies who have so much man- 
 ner ! I suppose-because I have lived in the backwoods 
 so long." 
 
 " We could ask no more beautiful home no kinder 
 people, Annie," said George, treading the soft carpets 
 with marked satisfaction and looking about him on 
 the furniture that bore no resemblance to the plain 
 appointments of the country parsonage.
 
 30 Two. 
 
 " The lines have fallen to us in pleasant places," re- 
 plied his wife, somewhat absently. 
 
 She was before the long pier-glass, pulling down 
 and spreading out the skirts of the brown silk ; unty- 
 ing and re-arranging the blue neck ribbon. A queer 
 sensation was creeping over her, not unlike that she 
 had felt in dreams of mingling in a gay company of ac 
 quaintances, all in their best attire, and coming sud- 
 denly to the consciousness of the fact that she was in- 
 her night-gown. She said to her discontented self 
 that she looked like a Dutch doll, or the painted 
 shepherdess upon the gaudy tea-tray that used to 
 stand upon her grandmother's buffet so short and 
 scant had her dress grown under Mrs. Hayward's 
 eyes. Her skin had lost its transparency in the steam 
 of stove and wash-tub ; her hair was thin and dry ; 
 there were crows-feet at the corners of her eyes and 
 the blue of the eyes themselves had faded. She 
 wished, for George's sake, that she were as bright and 
 pretty as when he married her. He did not look a 
 day older than then. His step was light, his complex- 
 ion clear, his whole mien that of a man in the glory of 
 his youth and strength. She had pursuaded him into 
 the purchase of a handsome suit of clothes before 
 entering upon his new pastorate. They became him 
 well and he would become any station however ex- 
 alted. 
 
 " It is only what you deserve my dear," she con- 
 tinued more heartily. " The people evidently under- 
 stand that they have drawn a prize. T knew how it 
 would be ! " 
 
 She would not attract his attention to her an-
 
 Two. 31 
 
 tiquated apparel by repeating Mrs. Hayward's obser- 
 vations. 
 
 " She probably did not notice in the hurry of the 
 moment that I had changed my dress," she tried to 
 comfort herself by saying. " Brown is such an unre- 
 markable color. She could not be expected to know 
 that I had nothing gayer than this. I suppose the chil- 
 dren and I do look countrified. I can only hope that 
 the guests will be too much taken up with their new 
 pastor to bestow many remarks upon us. I shall be 
 well content to stand in his shadow." 
 
 To do the guests justice, they did their best to make 
 her forget her shabbiness the more marked to her as 
 to others when compared with the fashionable toilettes 
 that presently filled the spacious rooms. Before the 
 splendors of these the impression of being in absolute 
 undress increased upon her until in the abjectness of 
 her shame she felt like crawling under the nearest 
 table or sofa to hide herself from the curious regards 
 bent upon her ; sympathized fully with the bashfulness 
 that caused the two elder children who had been al- 
 lowed to sit up " to see the party," to shrink into ob- 
 scure corners, stick their fingers in their mouths, and 
 obstinately resist all efforts to draw them from their 
 covert. "Mrs. Sherman" was put into the most con- 
 spicuous place in the room beside her well-dressed, 
 animated husband who remembered every visage he 
 had ever seen before and fitted the right name to each 
 owner as he took him by the hand, while her brain 
 whirled dizzily ; her senses were caught up and tossed to 
 and fro by the restless sea of strange faces, the surge 
 of many voices in her unaccustomed ears. She smiled
 
 32 Two. 
 
 and bowed and tried to seem at her ease and to catch 
 the prevailing tone of familiar converse and well-bred 
 cordiality, the social spirit of those who, belonging to 
 the same church, and most of them to the same neigh- 
 borhood, rejoiced together as one family in the re- 
 union and in the occasion for it. 
 
 She failed, and she knew it, but bore the knowledge 
 without other sign of discomfiture than a certain con- 
 straint of tone and expression, greater awkwardness 
 of movement and diffidence of speech. She im- 
 pressed those among whom she was henceforward to 
 dwell with the facts that she was rustic and not intel- 
 lectual ; amiable and not ambitious ; timid, but very 
 grateful for the kindness shown to herself and family. 
 Things might have been much more unfavorable for her 
 future comfort had she been a woman of more " char- 
 acter." The ladies of the congregation liked her none ' 
 the less for being unassuming and ignorant. Their 
 former pastor was a studious bachelor who never in- 
 terfered in their department of action. They were 
 too much in the habit of following in Mrs. Hayward's 
 wake, and she was too fond of leading for them to 
 contemplate cheerfully the prospect of submitting to 
 the dictatorship which had from time immemorial 
 been the prerogative of the minister's wife who chose 
 to accept the reins. They could have wished, since 
 Mrs. Sherman was so " incapable," that she were a 
 more comely lay-figure, but, after all, it was tacitly 
 agreed that her husband would not be less popular 
 because she was uninteresting. 
 
 " She is a domestic dowdy without a symptom of 
 style or manner ; as destitute of dignity as she is of
 
 Two. 
 
 33 
 
 brilliancy but there is no harm in her," had been 
 Mrs. Hayward's report that afternoon to her invalid 
 sister who was not able to attend the house-warming. 
 
 The lady mentally added dullness of perception 
 and feeling to the unflattering list of qualifications 
 for the office of nonentity in parish and society as she 
 noted Annie's apparent unconsciousness of the homely 
 absurdity of her figure amid its present surroundings. 
 
 " She is naturally awkward and is unused to enter- 
 tain company," thought the critic. " She looks like a 
 good-natured dolt, but she feels none of the distress 
 under which a sensitive person would writhe in dis- 
 covering her unfitness for her present position. Why 
 must our most gifted preachers marry while they are 
 boys? Can her husband be blind to her deficiencies, 
 or is he a miracle of self-control ? " 
 
 She turned from these meditations with mingled 
 compassion and admiration to the lion of the evening, 
 and wasted no more thoughts upon his consort in 
 name. 
 
 The lion of the town he speedily became and under 
 the inspiration of the enthusiastic devotion of his 
 parishioners, the tokens of kindliness and appreciation 
 he received from the citizens at large, his genius ri- 
 pened into more worthy fruitage than it had hitherto 
 borne. During his seclusion in the mountain town- 
 ship he had laid up treasures for future use that stood 
 him in good stead now mental stores and a magazine 
 of physical forces which were beyond all price. His 
 learning and eloquence filled his church to overflowing 
 within six months after he assumed the charge of it. 
 At the end of a year they tore it down and built a
 
 34 Two. 
 
 greater one larger than any three other houses of 
 worship in Aiken, and there was not a vacant pew in 
 it three weeks after the dedication. "A prize," his 
 wife had said, the evening of the reception. The 
 Aikenites knew it now, if they had not then, and their 
 pride in their acquisition leaped the bounds of the 
 usual means by which a flock is fain to testify appro- 
 bation of the shepherd's services. Figuratively they 
 fell at his feet, kissed the hem of his garment and of- 
 fered their necks to his tread. Literally they doubled 
 his salary ; let him have his own way in all ecclesias- 
 tical matters ; ftted him continually and flattered him 
 unceasingly, and wearied not of making him presents 
 of every description under the sun that could contri- 
 bute to his individual comfort and pleasure. 
 
 He would have been more or less than human 
 had these things failed to move him. Being at heart 
 true and earnest, and in purpose upright, they stimu- 
 lated, instead of enervating him. His most determined 
 detractors for envy is begotten by eminence as surely 
 as the sun draws water from the bog called him dog- 
 matic, vain, and arbitrary; bruited that adulation had 
 turned his head, and talked wisely of the rocket and 
 the stick and their willingness to abide the workings 
 of time. Even they never said that he was idle or 
 negligent ; that he failed to play the man at the height 
 of his dangerous elevation. Of course the ladies of 
 church and congregation were foremost in the ranks 
 of the brilliant preacher's allies and admirers. 
 
 I say " of course," in no invidious or sarcastic tone. 
 While GOD'S own law of the mutual attraction of the 
 sexes holds good, and while women's nature remains
 
 Two. 
 
 35 
 
 more emotional as more devout than that of man, the 
 clergyman will continue to find his warmest supporters 
 and most faithful yoke-fellows among the imitators of 
 Dorcas, Persis, Priscilla, and Damaris, of whose dis- 
 tinguished services the celibate Chief Apostle was 
 proud to make honorable mention. It was natural, 
 moreover, that the women of the Aiken Tabernacle 
 should be fond of their attractive minister ; should sit 
 under his pulpit discourses with great delight, and 
 hearken, with rapt ears, to the many profound, witty 
 and pleasing sayings which made him the ornament of 
 their parlors. He was a model pastor, they were 
 agreed in affirming, sympathizing, instructive and en- 
 tertaining, as circumstances appealed to his affluent 
 heart and mind, and divided his visits so impartially 
 between rich and poor that neither class could com- 
 plain or feel slighted. In fine, he was all they could 
 desire more far more than they had hoped for. 
 
 " For," said the very candid ones, " how could we 
 imagine, without seeing and knowing him, that there 
 was a faultless being in this imperfect world ? But 
 what a pity " (Full chorus here !) " that he has such an 
 uncongenial wife ! " 
 
 Which brings us, by a somewhat abrupt transition, 
 from the high noon of our hero's career to the more 
 checkered existence going on within the parsonage 
 walls. 
 
 Mrs. Hayward had not been remiss in duty to those 
 connected by lawful and blood ties with the Man of 
 the Day. If she anticipated his wishes and seconded 
 his endeavors in church and Sabbath-school; if she 
 was an excellent listener to his sermons and lectures
 
 36 Two. 
 
 and so discriminating in her praises of these that he 
 soon found himself speculating in his study as to the 
 probable effect of this, that, and the other passage 
 upon her speaking face, or regardful of her views and 
 desires as he expounded doctrines and enforced belief 
 he was also reminded of her at every turn in the 
 home she delighted to beautify. She took Mrs. 
 Sherman in hand the day after the reception, and 
 had guided her in all important affairs ever since. 
 Under her tutelage the brown figured silk had vanished 
 from Aiken sight and ken before it was sported a sec- 
 ond time in that lively place ; the stiff little curls, like 
 twisted wisps of pale straw, cherished by Mrs. Sher- 
 man as a souvenir of her youthful charms and courting 
 days, when George called them " golden," and " sunny," 
 were trained into more modest and modish bandeaux, 
 and the children were made almost presentable. An- 
 other bud was added to the cluster in the parents' 
 possession when they had lived eighteen months in 
 Aiken a little girl, who was baptized in the hearing 
 of the congregation one fine Sabbath as "Aurelia 
 Hayward." Her, the First Directress would have 
 adopted but for the opposition of the real mother, 
 who still held to certain obsolete notions touching the 
 will of the Creator in such cases, as expressed by His 
 disposition of what too many American matrons re- 
 gard as questionable blessings. 
 
 " If he had not meant for me to have my baby for 
 myself, He would not have sent her to me," said the 
 benighted creature. 
 
 But " Baby Aura " Mrs. Hayward's pet-title for 
 her name-child was a daily visitor at that lady's
 
 Two. 37 
 
 house ; was caressed, and indulged and adorned by 
 her until she grew into such dissimilarity in appear- 
 ance and behavior to her healthy, affectionate, coun- 
 try-born brothers and sisters as excited general remark. 
 The same butcher, baker, and grocer served Mrs. 
 Hayward and Mrs. Sherman, and they did their shop- 
 ping in spring and autumn in company. 
 
 " It is very kind in you to spend so much time and 
 pains upon that uninteresting woman," said the in- 
 valid sister already mentioned, one windy April after- 
 noon, as the First Directress returned from a prolonged 
 expedition through millinery and dry goods stores. 
 
 " I often ask myself why I do it," confessed the 
 other, throwing off her velvet cloak and sables and 
 sinking down wearily among the elastic cushions of 
 her lounge. " But what would become of her if I 
 were to let her go? She has not a liberal instinct in 
 her composition. But for me she would never have a 
 decent thing for herself and children. I have to be 
 constantly on the watch lest she should sacrifice taste 
 to cheapness, or get a scanty pattern for the sake of 
 saving a dollar or two. Her disposition to pinch 
 wherever she can is incorrigible." 
 
 " She yields to you generally, does she not ? " 
 
 " In my presence, yes, for she is a poor-spirited 
 creature, and easily put out of countenance, besides 
 being shrewd enough to appreciate, in some sort, the 
 value of a wealthy, generous friend. She knows she 
 would suffer severely were I to withdraw my help. 
 But she wears such a miserable face sometimes when 
 I have argued down her fears that she ' cannot afford 
 this,' and her suggestions that ' a simpler style will
 
 38 Two. 
 
 answer her purpose as well ' as that I have selected, 
 that I am ashamed of her. The very clerks know her 
 failings and appeal to me for directions. How a man 
 like George Sherman ever, even in his ' veal ' days, 
 fancied himself in love with that piece of common- 
 place insipidity passes my comprehension. She is a 
 clog about his neck and will be always. These life- 
 long blunders are miserable, hopeless complications ! " 
 
 Her handsome face looked so nearly miserable as 
 she said it; was changed from its ordinary brightness 
 into such haggardness as no extremity of bodily 
 fatigue could set there, that her sister refrained from 
 a second glance at it. She was a good and pure 
 woman who had learned wisdom and gentleness from 
 suffering, yet she discerned no impropriety in this 
 tender sympathy with a fascinating man who was 
 unsuitably wedded ; did not hesitate to speak out the 
 form of consolation that came to her mind. 
 
 "He is fortunate in finding true friends who com- 
 prehend and can minister to his spirit-needs. But for 
 their companionship and appreciation of his higher 
 nature his life would indeed be barren." 
 
 The tears gathered slowly in the widow's dark 
 eyes. 
 
 " You do not know how fearful is his need, Julia, 
 or how blank is his home life ; how exquisite are his 
 sensibilities; how strong the cravings of the intel- 
 lectual man for the ready intelligent response of a 
 kindred soul to his aspirations and inquiries. Even 
 I, who understand him as few others ever could ; to 
 whom he says he can reveal more of his inner self 
 than to any one else alive, am daily discovering new
 
 Two. 39 
 
 wants, new depths of thought and feeling, greater 
 capabilities for enjoyment and suffering. And this, 
 after our intimate friendship of six years' standing! 
 But what does this dull-witted clod who bears his 
 name and lives under his roof whom the world calls 
 his * wife ' guess of all this ! It is the union of the 
 owl and the eagle ! " 
 
 At the same hour, Mrs. Sherman, having laid away 
 carefully her cloth cloak and mink furs, sat herself 
 down at her writing-desk, opened a " Family Expense 
 Book," and began to record in order the purchases of 
 the day. There were no superfluities. She acknowl- 
 edged this to herself; also, that Mrs. Hayward's 
 maxim, " The best always the cheapest," was in the 
 main sound policy. Her girls ought to have the 
 dresses and hats she had ordered ; her fast-growing 
 boys the new suits from the tailor who made the 
 young Haywards' clothes. The black silk, the lace 
 collar and undersleeves, the steel-colored poplin 
 walking-suit and bonnet to match, were only what a 
 woman in her station should have if she would appear 
 as well clad as her neighbors. Yet her face, which 
 had been anxious when she begun her task, was sor- 
 rowful and perplexed as she wrote out the sum-total. 
 There was nervous alarm in the twitching muscles of 
 lips and fingers as she reviewed the columns of figures 
 in the vain hope of discovering some mistake that 
 should alter the result. 
 
 Finally she shut up the book with a heavy sigh and 
 locked it out of sight, lest George should happen upon 
 it and be annoyed by what he called her " Martha- 
 like calculation of ways and means," and, leaning her
 
 40 Two. 
 
 head upon her hand, sank into deep and painful rev- 
 erie. She had no confidante, and sometimes she 
 feared the seething brain would lose its balance. 
 Was this to go on forever ? this ceaseless tug at the 
 income which, sweat and strain as she might, was 
 always short of the outgo ? this contriving, night and 
 day, to make ends join that had never yet met which 
 shrank further and further apart every year? The sal- 
 ary which had seemed princely when talked over in the 
 country-manse had dwindled and wasted like fairy gold 
 in the handling. It took ten dollars in Aiken to do the 
 work she used to accomplrsh with one. More things 
 were needed in their town life ; prices were higher, 
 and everything was to be bought. She had not un- 
 derstood until their change of location that their means 
 in their old home had been really enlarged by the 
 homely donations of her fellow-housekeepers; that 
 when Mrs. Johnson sent her a pound of butter, the 
 gift saved her from buying it ; that Mrs. Vandyke's 
 freshly-baked loaf of rye bread which came to her 
 every Wednesday and Saturday, and Mrs. Peyster's 
 invariable rice-pudding for Sunday's dinner, were, in 
 effect, as much money in her purse. City parishioners 
 never took this into account. The stores and markets 
 were as convenient to her as to them, and they chose 
 to presume that she had as much money. Yet they 
 were generous in their way. She could not complain 
 of a want of presents. She had laced handkerchiefs, 
 embroidered hand-screens, mantel ornaments in such 
 profusion that her chimney-pieces looked like the 
 show-counters of a fancy store ; cut glass cologne 
 flasks, five pair ; match-boxes and paper-cutters and
 
 Two. 41 
 
 paper weights; inkstands of all patterns and four 
 writing-desks ; easels for pictures and carved brackets 
 for books; watch cases not a few, and six jewelry 
 stands ; three glove boxes and as many for handker- 
 chiefs ; such a profusion of flower vases, she had to 
 keep half of them in the china closet ; not to mention 
 gift books in Turkish morocco and gilt, highly illus- 
 trated, and very expensive ; elaborate and costly toys 
 for the children, including gold and silver rattles for 
 the baby ; until from pleased surprise she passed by 
 regular stages to a state of feeling akin to loathing. 
 She liked " useful things." If they were pretty as 
 well as useful, so much the better ; but this shower of 
 what she esteemed baubles dispirited and irked her. 
 Her devotion to the practical equalled the reverent 
 delight with which her spouse bent before the beauti- 
 ful. 
 
 And all the while the money was taking to itself 
 wings. The habit of painstaking economy, the study 
 and planning, the sifting of " must haves " from " may 
 wants" was closing in upon her again. Yet she had 
 thought when she removed to this place to cast these 
 behind her forever, as one would shake off a protracted 
 nightmare from which she had just escaped with her 
 life. She was beginning to supect what many other 
 clergymen's wives have demonstrated as a certainty, 
 viz., that large salaries invariably bring larger and 
 unavoidable expenses in their train. They must 
 maintain a creditable appearance in the eye of the 
 world. The interests of the clerical profession and 
 the Aiken church demanded it. This was one of Mrs. 
 Hayward's cardinal doctrines.
 
 42 Two. 
 
 Before it went down the brown silk. " Which was 
 a handsome thing in its day. What a pity brocades 
 had such a short run ! I haven't seen one before in 
 five years." 
 
 Thus Mrs. Hayward : The children's wardrobes were 
 " quite unsuitable for them in existing circumstances. 
 There was so much dress in Aiken ! " The well-saved 
 cottage furniture, which had been Annie's wedding 
 gift from the aunt for whom she was named, was also 
 condemned. " That will do very nicely for the ser- 
 vants' room, my dear. It is good policy to lodge and 
 feed your domestics well, and the set is really ex- 
 tremely neat." 
 
 The white curtains Annie had made with, her own 
 hands for the spare bed-room in her former abode 
 were " entirely out of date here, and troublesome on 
 account of the coal-dust and all that, you know. The 
 country is so much cleaner." 
 
 The bed-quilts, two of them " album " patch-work 
 presented by the ladies and children of their late 
 charge, were "just the thing for the servants' bed, 
 and you can, if you like, put one under the Marseilles 
 quilt in the nursery. It will keep the dust off the 
 blankets." 
 
 Annie made no resistance. George had bidden her 
 consult Mrs. Hayward upon all doubtful points, and 
 the business of her life was to obey and please him. 
 She knew all the same that she was not the mistress 
 of her own house, and each concession, the relinquish- 
 ment of each cherished project, gave her as sharp a 
 pang as it would you or me, dear sister, pride ourselves 
 upon our individuality though we may. In place of
 
 Two. 43 
 
 the old familiar articles and the household ways she 
 had learned with care, practised with satisfaction, up- 
 rose a legion of " Indispensables," hitherto undreamed 
 of, which she yet dared not dispute. She may have 
 been the clod her adviser deemed her, but the stupid- 
 est learn fast under the rod, and before the first quar- 
 ter's salary became due, she had arrived at a pretty 
 fair estimate of the proportion which their receipts 
 were to bear to their expenditures. Her sensibilities 
 were not acute perhaps, yet she endured absolute tor- 
 ture in lifting the remembered harness and buckling it 
 upon her reluctant spirit. In her agony of distaste at 
 the return to bondage, she made one cry in the ears 
 of him whom she seldom troubled with complaint, with 
 whom she had long ago ceased to share such trials as 
 could be kept from his knowledge. 
 
 It was at Christmas time, and they had been ten 
 months in Aiken. There was a Sabbath-school festi- 
 val, with a loaded " tree ; " distribution of prizes, and 
 much speaking at the children that inimitable inven- 
 tion of some modern Herod in Howard's clothing an 
 original story written for the occasion by the pastor, 
 which was a gem in its way, and applauded to the 
 echo by great and small and in the evening a mas- 
 querade surprise party, a delightful novelty at the par- 
 sonage. Santa Claus led in a band of elves, decked 
 with holly and other Christmas " greens," who piled 
 their gifts in the shape of a pyramid in the middle of 
 the parlor floor ; danced, satyr-like, about it to a merry 
 Christmas chorus, chanted as they moved, and retired 
 without unmasking. Mr. Sherman pulled the inge- 
 nious structure to pieces, and distributed the presents
 
 44 Two. 
 
 in obedience to the labels attached to each. The 
 children were enraptured, the father as hilarious as 
 any of them, and really gratified by his own acquisi- 
 tions, the most valuable of which was a gold watch 
 and chain. Mrs. Sherman's effort to seem pleased was 
 so unsuccessful as to call forth a remark which was a 
 virtual rebuke, and was understood as such by the rest 
 as well as herself. 
 
 " Mamma is not as happy as we are ; has a touch 
 of the doldrums," said George, winding up Willie's 
 race horse. " I hoped we should have no sober faces 
 on this blessed Christmas day ; that we should all be 
 able to ' drive dull care away,' for a few hours, at least." 
 
 The wondering, reproachful eyes turned to her 
 from the innocent faces about her were the severest 
 ordeal to which he could at that instant have sub- 
 jected Annie. Let us hope he did not know it. She 
 felt each as a poniard thrust, and, like the blood fol- 
 lowing these, came the recollection that she could not 
 defend herself then or ever from the unjust suspicions 
 engendered in her children's minds. She could not 
 tell them that solicitude for their welfare, much study 
 of their interests and her husband's, many and press- 
 ing fears pertaining to present and future embar- 
 rassments, made her face and spirit "sober." All 
 this would sadden them, and sorrow would come to 
 them soon enough. She would not hasten it by her 
 selfish repinings. Moreover, they might ask why she 
 carried the whole load ; why papa was light-hearted 
 and she burdened, for children have an innate sense 
 of justice that makes them swift in condemnation. 
 She was sensitive and devoid of tact or address, but
 
 Two. 
 
 45 
 
 she would have bled to death sooner than recriminate 
 or lower the father a thousandth part of a degree in 
 the esteem of his offspring. 
 
 Oh, the silent heroism of these commonplace 
 women, who are slow of speech and heavy of visage, 
 save when, perhaps once in a lifetime, they look into 
 our eyes with a dumb piteousness that rives our souls 
 and startles us as if the earth had caved under our 
 feet in what we thought was a sure place, as if the 
 stone had cried to us out of the wall. I caught such 
 a glance the other day from a neglected wife who has 
 neither beauty, nor youth, nor wit to win back the 
 truant heart she has striven for long, patient years to 
 hold, and, remembering her that night in my prayers 
 for. " the afflicted, and those who draw unto the 
 grave," awful words were whispered into the ear of 
 my spirit in reply : 
 
 "When He maketh inquisition for blood, He forgettetli 
 not the cry of the humble ! " 
 
 Annie made a visible attempt to drive away the 
 black brood of stinging tormentors who would not let 
 her be at ease even on Christmas day. 
 
 " Mamma is a little tired and headachy to-night," 
 she said. " She is not as young as she used to be." 
 
 " Papa was born last week and -never ate a Christmas 
 feast or saw Santa Claus until to-night!" retorted 
 George, gayly. " Clear the course for Dexter ! He is 
 wound up all right. There he goes!" and off dashed 
 the spirited courser in the ring left by the excited 
 children. 
 
 Papa did not play with them every day, but he was 
 the jolliest of comrades when he did ; much livelier than
 
 46 Two. 
 
 poor mamma, who " hadn't a bit of fun in her," and 
 was too busy all the time to frolic with them. They 
 left her to herself, therefore, without the most distant 
 imagination of the sufferings hidden by the quiet face 
 that watched them. 
 
 " That horse cost five dollars, at least," said poor, 
 sore-hearted Annie, " practical " in her pain. " And 
 Georgie's wax doll must have been twelve ! I have 
 not three dollars in the world! I am sure George 
 must have been charged fifty for the engraving, frame 
 and all, he gave me this morning ! There is another 
 bill to pay ! He is very kind and generous, but if he 
 only knew how little I enjoy such things when we 
 need every cent of our salary for family expenses. 
 How shall we get along until quarter-day a month 
 and a week off ? " 
 
 It is by nursing such unhealthy thoughts as these 
 that ministers' wives become contracted in ideas, 
 mercenary in purpose. 
 
 When the children were in bed this one of the 
 sordid creatures made the outcry to which I have re- 
 ferred. 
 
 "George," she said, with a low-spirited, babyish 
 tremor in her voice, " I am sorry I cast a shadow over 
 your spirits or the children's to-night. But I had a 
 cause for my grave looks. Large as our income seems, 
 it does not meet our expenses, and I couldn't help 
 wishing that our kind friends had given us the money 
 all these beautiful things cost. It would have been a 
 real help to us just now. Or that they had sent in 
 something really useful. For instance, I would rather 
 have had a barrel of flour and a tub of butter than
 
 Two. 47 
 
 this mantel clock, which I don't need in the least, and 
 must have cost twice as much as they would." 
 
 I believe I have said elsewhere that George Sherman 
 was never wittingly unkind or rough in word or deed 
 to the wife he knew his inferior. But his quiet sneer 
 hurt her now more than downright harshness would 
 have done. 
 
 "Judged by your rule, this world should be a vast 
 grocery and provision store. You must bear in mind 
 that there are varieties of taste even in the same family. 
 I regret exceedingly however that yours were not more 
 correctly divined on this occasion. You are at liberty to 
 carry your utilitarian principles into action and barter 
 the trumpery you do not value for solid, sensible bread 
 and butter. As you say, that clock, which is, I know, 
 a present from Mrs. Hayward and her sister, must be 
 valuable. The bronze figures upon it the Muse of 
 History watching the motions of Time are remark- 
 ably fine. An auction sale of your Christmas gifts 
 would replenish your larder abundantly give you 
 pocket money for six months to come." 
 
 Annie, recalling his words and look five years after- 
 ward, as she sat alone in the twilight of that windy 
 April afternoon, casting up endless and unsatisfactory 
 accounts in her aching head, felt again the positive 
 physical constriction of heart and lungs that almost 
 suffocated her then ; the uprising of her loyal soul 
 against insult and wrong done her by him who should 
 have sheltered her from both. She had never given 
 words to the protest ; had tried to forget the occur- 
 rence. George had " always been careless about mo- 
 ney." Besieged by the temptations of the city it was
 
 48 Two. 
 
 not strange that he grew reckles?. His love for the 
 aesthetic was mounting, or degenerating, into a pas- 
 sion ; his desire to possess and enjoy the books from 
 which he had been shut out by his secluded position 
 and straitened means threatened to become inordinate. 
 He sought out and bought good pictures ; he would 
 have the finest library editions of his favorite authors, 
 let them cost what they might. These were a sub- 
 stantial investment, he told himself and his friends 
 riches in which his children would revel when he had 
 passed into the Land where all was Beauty. His wife 
 might exhaust the powers of her intellect in remodel- 
 ling last year's garments and saving candle ends. He 
 fed his by his royal lavishness of the lucre which was 
 only made filthy by hoarding. He made a telling 
 point in a charity sermon by comparing such heaping 
 up of wealth to the manna which the economical, long- 
 sighted Hebrew stored in his vessel until the morrow, 
 when he found it alive with corruption. 
 
 He was too manly ever to become a petit maltre, but 
 he cultivated his naturally refined tastes into fastidi- 
 ousness. The appointments of his study were irre- 
 proachable perfect in general effect and in detail. 
 
 " A rare poem ! visible music ! " Mrs. Hayward 
 said, softly, one day, entering while he lounged in his 
 reading chair and read Euripides in the sunshine. It 
 was right only just that this should be. Else how 
 could fair fancies and exalted conceptions visit him 
 freely? There were subtle harmonies of sense and 
 soul which must be consulted if one would attain his 
 highest development, mentally or spiritually. The 
 room in which he studied and wrote was bright in
 
 Two. 49 
 
 winter, shaded in summer, always luxurious, although 
 simple enough to the casual eye. It was kept at an 
 even temperature, that no extreme of heat and cold 
 should remind him, at inopportune seasons, of his cor- 
 poreal existence when he would be all mind and spirit. 
 There was a fernery in the brightest window, and rus- 
 tic stands of flowers, often renewed, filled the air with 
 delicate fragrance. 
 
 These were not personal luxuries, but appliances of 
 his art, as were the paintings, the two or three statues 
 and the shelves of superbly bound books in the adjoin- 
 ing library. In preparing the lectures and sermons he 
 meant to deliver without notes, it was his habit to 
 walk up and down the length of the two rooms, his 
 head bent, and hands behind him, with half-closed 
 eyes, murmuring to himself in a sort of trance a clair- 
 voyant state, upon which no footstep or voice might 
 break, unless the intruder's errand were one of life or 
 death. 
 
 " The apartments seem to me like holy ground while 
 I catch the sound of his communing with higher intel- 
 ligences," said Mrs. Hayward once to Annie. 
 
 " I never go in, except to sweep and dust when he 
 is out," rejoined Annie, in her simplicity. " He can't 
 bear to have the chambermaid touch a thing of his. 
 But I am very particular." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," Mrs. Hayward answered, 
 patronizingly. " It is an inestimable privilege to 
 minister even to the temporal wants of such a man." 
 
 There was no retreat in the whole house for " Mam- 
 ma's " spirit or body, not so much as a closet which 
 she could call her own, in which she could sit her 
 3
 
 50 Two. 
 
 down in quiet, secure of ten minutes for Bible reading 
 and devotion. She said her prayers generally while 
 nursing the baby ; and when the last one was weaned 
 lifted up her heart to Him who knew her infirmities 
 and was acquainted with her griefs, as she could catch 
 a moment's breathing space. A favorite season for 
 her meditations and silent supplications was while 
 mending the children's clothes after midnight had set 
 the seal of soundest sleep upon other eyes. She did 
 not quite comprehend her husband's fervent petitions 
 from the pulpit in the hearing of the hundreds who 
 hung breathless upon his lips ; breathings after wider, 
 deeper, richer Christian experience and the higher 
 life ; felt ignorant and dwarfish and wretched as she 
 listened to these and his stirring exhortations to his 
 hearers to live above the world ; to spurn the fetters 
 of earthly desire and earthly cares ; to keep their 
 minds calm and free, ever receptive to the influences 
 of the Infinite Thought of which the human intellect 
 was a part. 
 
 But then there was so little Annie did understand 
 beyond housekeeping, and sewing, and baby-tending ! 
 She had not an idea of what was meant by the divinity 
 of humanity, or the pre-Adamic period, or the Arian 
 or Pelagian heresy. She had a shadowy fancy that 
 Origen had something to do with original sin, and that 
 the same firm manufactured the Elgin marbles and 
 Elgin watches. But she did not pretend to know the 
 difference between Tractarianism and Antinomianism, 
 or what Doctor Pusey believed and Bishop Colenso 
 did not. She read next to nothing except the nice 
 little books her children brought home from the Sun-
 
 Two. ,j r 
 
 day-school library. While Mrs. Hayward read every- 
 thing, remembered all she read and heard and could 
 talk so well of what she knew that even George con 
 fessed he sometimes gained new views of truth in his 
 conversations with her. A wonderful woman was Mrs. 
 Hayward ! In her humility, Annie never thought of 
 questioning this. It was very kind and disinterested 
 in her to take her (Annie) everywhere in her carriage ; 
 to pilot her through shops and dressmaking establish- 
 ments ; to prescribe to her what should be eaten, 
 drunk and worn at the parsonage. If her income 
 equalled that of her chaperon, she might enjoy pur- 
 chasing and ordering as much as she did. If her 
 talents and education were more nearly equal to hers, 
 she would take more pleasure in their intercourse. 
 Oddly enough, there floated into her memory in this 
 connection a text George had read that morning at 
 prayers : 
 
 " Whether he be able with ten thousand to meet 
 him that cometh against him with twenty thousand ?" 
 
 George would have laughed at this violent wresting 
 of Scripture, but there was no danger of his knowing 
 of it. She had long ago ceased to talk to him of such 
 trifles as her private and individual religious experi- 
 ences.
 
 PART III. 
 
 IT was strange, said the Aiken gossips, even the 
 more charitable among them, that Mrs. Sherman did 
 not dress herself and children more handsomely ; 
 allowed the tokens of painstaking economy to be pal- 
 pable in turned silks and made-over woolens and in 
 dozens of other ways. Her husband's salary was large 
 and he generous to a fault. She was either deficient 
 in taste, a bad manager, indolent, or stingy a four- 
 horned dilemma, any one prong of which would have 
 pierced a sensitive woman through and through. 
 
 Mrs. Sherman did not seem to be aware of her 
 shortcomings or to be moved by adverse criticism. 
 But what she thought and felt was a matter of con- 
 jecture altogether; she had no confidante with whom 
 she could discuss her peculiar trials, who would ap- 
 plaud her conscientious effort to do her duty in her 
 home and sympathize with her sufferings under the 
 non-appreciation of him whom she sought to please. 
 
 " No doubt, my dear, there are, as your cousin says, 
 many points of sympathy between us," sighs the 
 caustic Riccabocca, of " My Novel," to his Jemima, 
 " even when I am thinking of feelings and you of 
 trowsers." 
 
 Bulwer has told the learned doctor's story for him. 
 What Jemima thought and suffered under his failure 
 52.
 
 Two. 53 
 
 to enter into her views and feelings was deemed a 
 matter of no consequence. Yet there are two sides to 
 this as to other questions. Who does not read with a 
 heartache how silly Dora begged with tears the privi- 
 lege of holding the fresh pens while her author-husband 
 wrote the books which were to make him immortal ? 
 Of her request that he would always think of and 
 speak to her as his " child-wife?" How, as she lay 
 dying in his arms pale, blighted " Little Blossom " 
 she said: " I know I was too young and foolish ; it is 
 much better as it is ? " To some is granted the gift 
 of pathetic lamentation. It is the heart which has no 
 outlet of expression that breaks. Wives have ere this 
 accepted the post of mere housekeepers and general 
 managers and the treatment due to the situation in 
 the houses where they should have reigned beloved 
 and honored queens ; ceased to entreat or to expect 
 the full measure of love which is as truly their rightful 
 portion as the wages of the faithful hireling belong to 
 himself ; have resigned all this and lived on, making 
 no plaint in the ears of the world to which they are 
 conscious their humiliation is well known. They are 
 not usually interesting objects in society, I own ; but 
 neither are girdled trees attractive features in a land- 
 scape. 
 
 Everybody pities the man of genius who is bound 
 to an unintellectual partner, especially the common- 
 place creature's fellow-women. Each of the compas- 
 sionate beings seems to feel that her mission is to help 
 fill the empty heart, to satisfy the thirsting spirit. 
 
 Dear sisters ! women all and would-be consolers ! 
 bear with me while I say that I have not an atom of
 
 54 Two. 
 
 patience with this rose-water, cold cream, and magic 
 salve philosophy. Listen without scorn while I 
 express the decided convictions of a practical mortal 
 who has lived in this world of shams and self-deceit 
 more years than she cares to count over to herself or 
 confess to others, and has kept her eyes well open all 
 the while. Your man of genius be he John Milton 
 married to Mary Powell, or Shakspeare to Anne 
 Hathaway, Burns to Jean Armour, or Byron to Miss 
 Millbanke can get along excellently well without any 
 or all of you. The fact is not complimentary to our sex, 
 but it is wholesome. Love to a woman is like wings 
 to the butterfly ; it means life, liberty, beauty. To a 
 man it is also wings, but such as the grasshopper car- 
 ries folded under the skirt of his close-bodied coat 
 used for a short flight, convenient at times, always 
 pretty ; silky, gossamer appendages he delights to 
 spread in sunny weather as he skims the meadow with 
 his mates a rollicking cricket club. But the business 
 of his existence is upon the ground ; he makes his 
 living by means of his homely legs, and forgets for 
 hours at a time that he has any wings at all. 
 
 Mr. Sherman's lady parishioners were not vainer or 
 more susceptible than the majority of their kind ; but 
 in proportion to their admiration for their pastor and 
 their low estimate of his spouse's qualifications for the 
 exalted station to which her marriage had raised her 
 was their desire to make good her deficiencies. Her 
 they patronized in a civil way and ignored in all active 
 public movements. To outsiders they deplored that 
 Mrs. Sherman was reserved and taciturn to strangers 
 and undemonstrative to her best friends; in short,
 
 Two. 55 
 
 that her manners were the reverse of popular " such 
 a contrast " to the polish and engaging frankness of 
 her husband's. These strictures were made with in- 
 dignant pity not for the cruel embarrassment of her 
 who had been beguiled into a position where she could 
 not but be extremely uncomfortable, if not miserable, 
 by yielding to the passionate suit of the man she 
 loved and who vowed that he loved her but for him 
 who had brought about this reprehensible state of 
 affairs. Gradually people fell into the habit of invit- 
 ing Mr. Sherman to dinner and evening parties, to 
 excursions by carriage, boat, and rail without his wife. 
 He was the soul of every company, however gay or 
 select ; she, " not to put too fine a point upon it," was 
 a clod. 
 
 George would have apologized for the apparent 
 neglect the first time this happened he even re- 
 volved in his magnanimous mind the expediency of 
 declining to go ; but, seeing that Annie did not notice 
 the slight, and hearkening to her earnest hope that he 
 would enjoy the fete, he changed his mind, treated the 
 form of the invitation as a matter of course, gave him- 
 self up to his friends, and found the absence of his 
 much-lesser half no drawback to his pleasure. The 
 omission ceased to be a novelty by-and-by. At last 
 the appearance of husband and wife abroad together 
 excited general remark. 
 
 This was the phase of their so-called joint existence 
 when Annie was mightily strengthened and cheered by 
 a visit from a sister whom she had not seen since her 
 marriage. Mrs. Davenport, although two years the 
 senior of Mrs. Sherman, looked younger by ten. She
 
 $6 Two. 
 
 was the wife of a successful merchant and a person of 
 note in her circle for sprightliness and fashion. Her 
 appearance in Aiken created a sensation in cliques 
 where her sister was accounted a nobody. She was 
 deluged with calls, and plied flatteringly with invi- 
 tations. Mrs. Hayward gave her the first party. 
 
 " It has been such an age since I attended a large 
 evening assembly that I shall hardly know how to be- 
 have," remarked Annie as the two sisters sat in her 
 room that afternoon. 
 
 "So long!" said Mrs. Davenport, in surprise. 
 " Several of your ladies have told me of the very gay 
 winter you have had in Aiken ; spoken of the town as 
 always lively and the people social." 
 
 " That is true, but I have become an inveterate 
 stay-at-home," returned the other between a smile and 
 a sigh. "There is a habit in these things, you know. 
 One loses her fondness for general society after she 
 has fallen into the way of declining invitations, and as 
 the cares of life accumulate they repress her desire to 
 go abroad for amusement." 
 
 "One loses her vitality of thought, and often of 
 body, if she sits still at home and lets her cares strangle 
 her," responded Mrs. Davenport, emphatically. " It 
 is especially the duty of the public man's wife to keep 
 herself up in feeling and manner, while for her chil- 
 dren's sake she should not become antiquated in ideas 
 or apparel. Rely upon it, Annie, your girls will lose 
 some portion of their respect for you, if you lag be- 
 hind the age in which you live. Instead of remaining 
 their standard and arbiter in matters of dress, 
 etiquette, and the like, you will degenerate into ' only
 
 Two. 
 
 57 
 
 mother, who thinks the world has stood still these 
 thirty years.' This sounds like very worldly advice, 
 but the children of this generation are wise. Nor do 
 men like to see their wives grow old and dowdyish. 
 It may be true that a good man's love once won, is 
 won forever, but the rule does not hold always with 
 his fancy. Excuse my plainness of speech, dear, but I 
 do not believe it is to please George that you with- 
 draw yourself from the scenes he enjoys with the zest 
 of a college-boy, or that you dress so soberly as if you 
 descried temptation in a flounce, and lurking evil in a 
 flowing ribbon. No wife, however fondly loved, can 
 afford to despise the attractive adornments of person 
 that commend her as a pleasing object to the eye of 
 him whom she loves. It is by these and other womanly 
 arts all innocent and commendable that one retains 
 the lover in the husband. I am reading you a formid- 
 able lecture am I not?" she interrupted herself to 
 say, lightly. "Annie, dear child, are you crying? I 
 did not mean to wound you. With whom can we be 
 frank if not with one another?" 
 
 It was impossible to check by a single effort the 
 long pent-up tide of feeling. But Annie cast herself 
 beside her sister, hid her face in her lap and held her 
 close, to show that her emotion had in it no strain of 
 resentment. 
 
 " It has been so long," she said, when she could 
 trust her voice ; " such a weary darksome while since 
 I have had any one talking to me as if it made any 
 difference what I did, or how I looked, that the kind- 
 ness overcame me. George is goodness itself, but 
 men don't understand women as well as they do each 
 3*
 
 58 Two. 
 
 other as well as you do me, for instance. Then, he 
 knows nothing about ladies' dresses; never notices 
 what I wear, or cares whether I go out or stay at 
 home. ' Do as you please, my dear,' he says, when I 
 appeal to him about anything that concerns me or 
 my movements. He is so engrossed in his profession, 
 you see, that these are trifles not worth his consid- 
 eration. As to 'keeping myself up' that takes 
 money and time, and both are scarce with me. Our 
 expenses are terribly heavy, economize as I will. I 
 have to think twice before I buy a pair of new shoes 
 wheii the old ones are so shabby I have to keep them 
 tucked well under my skirts when others are by. 
 Flounces and ribbons are costly, and I should lose 
 hours from the plain sewing I cannot afford to put out 
 to a seamstress, if I bedecked myself with them. I 
 cannot speak of these troubles to anybody but you. I 
 suspect the people think me mean, as well as old- 
 fashioned, but I must bear it. I will not beg for 
 money by telling how often and seriously I am 
 cramped for it." 
 
 " George has some extravagant tastes that should 
 be curbed," said the plain-spoken counselor. " It 
 must make a formidable hole in his salary to buy such 
 books and pictures as he has collected. His bronzes 
 and cameos are a small fortune in themselves." 
 
 " He has so few personal luxuries," pleaded the 
 loyal little woman, coloring at the implied censure of 
 her idol. " You know that he does not use tobacco 
 in any form and is very temperate in eating and 
 drinking. His statuary and pictures are a great help 
 in his studies. His books are his tools."
 
 Two. 59 
 
 " The contents of them are, undoubtedly but not 
 the bindings. I know something about the cost of 
 libraries. He has perfect taste in such things ; that 
 cannot be questioned. But, for all that, his prudent 
 little wife should not suffer for want of shoes that his 
 printed darlings may be sumptuously clad. You 
 should have the independence to set the case fairly 
 before him, Annie." 
 
 " I could not ! " Annie shrank into her dismayed 
 self at the suggestion. " You do not understand how 
 disagreeable to him is every mention of business de- 
 tails. He doesn't know the difference between the 
 value of one dollar and twenty." 
 
 " He contrives, nevertheless, to spend twenty to 
 your one," interpolated the audacious sister-in-law. 
 
 Annie feigned not to hear her. 
 
 " All talk about accounts and expenditures disgusts 
 him," she pursued. " This is apt to be the case with 
 highly-gifted men, I believe. It is difficult to bring 
 them down to the level of common things and sordid 
 cares." 
 
 Mrs. Davenport was ready with another saucy in- 
 terruption. " That is a very correct quotation from 
 Mrs. Hayward." 
 
 " It is a true saying," insisted Annie who was 
 obliged to smite at her tone and manner. " Seriously, 
 Janette, when you look impartially at the matter, it is 
 but right that the discharge of such duties as purchas- 
 ing household stores, paying bills, etc., should devolve 
 upon me. It is the only way in which I can really help 
 him. You must see " her blush deepening painfully 
 "that mentally I am no companion for him. He
 
 60 Two. 
 
 has never breathed it for he is the soul of delicacy 
 and kindness but I know I have disappointed his 
 expectations in other respects. I am so dull such a 
 fool about books and solid reading and all that. I did 
 try to cultivate my mind, to grow worthier of him ; 
 but study is fearful drudgery when one is tired out by 
 a hard day's work in the kitchen or puzzled out of her 
 wits by plans for the morrow. My brain wouldn't 
 work, and as George didn't seem to care, I gave it up. 
 He doesn't dream how badly I feel about all thjs," 
 she continued, with feverish rapidity. " I believe he 
 imagines that I never think of it that I am content 
 to sit still and stupid, and see him growing away 
 from me, as an oak does from the dock-weed at its 
 root. I do not want him to guess it for it cannot be 
 helped, and it is his nature and duty to grow as tall 
 and broad as he can. I never see the multitudes 
 that flock to hear him without thinking of the text, 
 ' Sitting in his shadow with great delight.' " 
 
 " He is developing magnificently," assented Mrs. 
 Davenport, thoughtfully, studying her sister's flushed 
 face, while she stroked the hardened hand she held, 
 caressed the small forefinger made callous by needle- 
 pricks. " You are not a woman of decided literary 
 tastes, dear. You would never have these, were you 
 to study fourteen hours per diem, for fourteen years 
 to come. But harmony of intellectual likings does not 
 make up the sum total of domestic happiness. Two 
 peas of exactly the same shape would not fit well to- 
 gether in the pod. And y9u are far, very far from 
 being a simpleton, or dull. You are, I dare assert, a 
 better arithmetician than is your elegant husband,
 
 Two. 6 1 
 
 and have as much executive ability in your province 
 as he has in his. You are certainly an able financier, 
 and the most energetic woman, in your quiet way, I 
 ever saw. All your ways are quiet and superficial ob- 
 servers may be deceived by your want of pretension 
 into an incorrect valuation of your worth. As to 
 George's disappointment in you, he knew what he was 
 about when he married you. If he has half as much 
 common sense as his wife has he sees what you really 
 are now. Finally " kissing her affectionately " I 
 mean to dress you according to my whim to-night; 
 get up a surprise for him." 
 
 She did her best. Annie was made ready in her 
 sister's dressing-room and the two went down to the 
 parlor together, to enjoy George's pleased astonish, 
 ment. He was a little late as was his wont and 
 entered hurriedly when they had waited half an hour 
 for his appearance. 
 
 "Ready, are you?" he said, carelessly. "Annie, I 
 have pulled the button off my glove. Just sew it on 
 won't you ?" 
 
 Mrs. Davenport watched him while his wife drew 
 near the drop-light to perform his behest. He did not 
 give her a second glance, although her gray silk was 
 made elegant by a black lace shawl looped into an 
 overskirt ; her sleeves and collar were point lace ; her 
 hair tastefully arranged with a cluster of pink rose- 
 buds, and lilies of the valley set above the left temple, 
 and another of the same was fastened by her pearl 
 brooch. She looked pretty, ladylike, almost girlish. 
 Mrs. Davenport, in her chagrin, longed to box the 
 unobservant husband's ears.
 
 62 Two. 
 
 "You hav'n't told us what you think of your new 
 wife," she was compelled to say, at last. 
 
 " Eh ! " bewildered. " I do not comprehend ! " stop- 
 ping in his promenade over the parlor carpet* 
 
 "You have not praised Annie's toilette," she con- 
 tinued, more and more provoked. 
 
 " I had not noticed it. I see, now, that she has on a 
 new gown. Am I right ? Tell me what I ought to say, 
 and I will obey orders," seeing her vexation and 
 Annie's blushes. " I am a wretched ignoramus in the 
 matter of ladies' apparel, but mean well." 
 
 The disappointed amateur Abigail had not the 
 patience to continue the subject. If the party had 
 not been spoiled for her by the prelude, a remark she 
 overhead from a lady who did not know her by sight 
 would have done this effectually. 
 
 " Mrs. Sherman really looks like other people to- 
 night," said some one to the captious critic. 
 
 " Humph ! More like a dress-maker's dummy; not 
 quite so graceful, for she is evidently unaccustomed to 
 being well dressed. And as for conversation, she hasn't 
 an idea upon any subject higher than servants, chil- 
 dren, and marketing." 
 
 With a sharper pang than she would have owned, 
 even to herself, Mrs. Davenport recognized the truth 
 that the habits of years were not to be overcome by 
 one hour's lecturing and one evening's drill and 
 society tactics. Recognizing it, she grew savage to- 
 ward her brilliant brother-in-law. Annie might have 
 been moulded into external comeliness had he ap- 
 preciated her sterling qualities and her capabilities, 
 instead of seeking to shape mind and tastes in con-
 
 Two. 63 
 
 formity to a pattern of his own devising. As it was, 
 he had let her drop out of his calculations of future 
 effort and attainment; made her an "incidental" instead 
 of an essential in his life. Janette's benevolent mission 
 had been undertaken too late. She could love and 
 sympathize with her sister ; stay her courage with com- 
 forting and hopeful words, and leave her to her lonely 
 walk, trusting that in time her children would do her 
 the justice her husband and his world had denied her. 
 
 She made one effort to recall George's heart, and 
 prick his conscience. 
 
 " Don't you think Annie is looking badly ? " she 
 asked, one evening, as they talked apart, and Annie 
 sat with her work-basket under the shaded gas burner, 
 hearing her third child read over his next day's les- 
 son. " She was very pretty in her girlhood the belle 
 of our family. She is lovely still, for her soul speaks 
 in her eyes, her sweet temper in her smile, but it sad- 
 dens me to see her prematurely grave and faded. 
 You must watch her, George, and compel her to take 
 care of herself. Her thought is only for others. As 
 for you, ungrateful creature, she kisses your footsteps 
 in spirit. I must tell you something touching and 
 beautiful she said about you, the other day." And 
 she repeated Annie's simile of the oak and dock-weed. 
 " A man incurs a serious yet sweet responsibility who 
 inspires such love in the breast of a true, pure woman 
 like our Annie. I have heard of wives who have won 
 a place in the world's record of distinguished women 
 by going to scaffold and stake with their husbands. 
 She would die in your stead by axe or faggot, and 
 account it great honor."
 
 64 Two. 
 
 George tried to laugh at her earnestness. 
 " Why do you call me ungrateful ? " he asked. 
 " I judge you by what I know of your sex in gen- 
 eral. There are few who do not give to 
 
 " ' Dust a little gilt, 
 More praise than gold o'erdusted.' 
 
 I wonder sometimes whether you are an exception to 
 the majority. You might easily have married a more 
 showy girl ; one who would shine as the mistress of 
 your house and do credit to your taste. It is odd 
 that you did not, for you have an eye for a fine 
 woman. Such a wife would have been a gorgeous 
 ruby in your crown of manhood ; and you could have 
 displayed her with royal pride as Ahasuerus would 
 have showed Vashti to his courtiers. But your Esther, 
 modest as a wood-violet, with a heart as strong and 
 clear as crystal, is above rubies in value." 
 
 " Who would think of my prosaic Annie as the in- 
 spiration of so many poetical images ? " said George, 
 with affected lightness ; " when she poor, dear soul ! 
 does not know a trope from a syllogism ! " 
 
 " She is none the worse wife for Mr. George Sher- 
 man on that account," was the stout rejoinder. " If 
 the ideal, not the practical, were her forte he would be 
 less comfortable and much poorer. Some make the 
 fatal mistake when those judged are their life-long 
 companions of believing that lack of brilliancy of 
 thought and felicity of expression presupposes an 
 insensitive nature and a shallow heart. Annie is 
 keenly alive to your dissimilarities ; and in the light
 
 Two. 65 
 
 of her reverent appreciation of your talents and fame, 
 her humility is likely to become morbid." 
 
 She changed the subject at that point, fondly be- 
 lieving that she read in her listener's softer eye and 
 meditative aspect the proof that the hint was not 
 dropped in vain. 
 
 George was very kind to his lonely little wife for 
 some days after her sister's departure. Mrs. Daven- 
 port left Aiken by an early morning train, and Mr. 
 Sherman invited Annie to drive with him that after- 
 noon. 
 
 " Don't take any of the children," he stipulated. 
 " I want you to have a restful, pleasant ride." 
 
 He settled her carefully in the buggy, wrapping the 
 robes about her feet, inquiring if she were warmly clad, 
 and exerted himself during the jaunt to select such 
 topics as he thought would interest her, even mistak- 
 ing the glow of conscious benevolence within his gen- 
 erous breast for enjoyment in the dutiful companion- 
 ship. 
 
 " This is a slavish kind of life we are leading here, 
 my pet," he said, seeing the color revive in the sallow 
 cheeks that were no longer plump ; the shy delight of 
 her who had borne his name for upwards of a decade, 
 in his tenderly gallant attentions. " I have scarcely a 
 moment or a thought that I can call my own ; have 
 to run out of town if I want to say a nice thing or two 
 to my wife. 'This is the price of popularity, and it is 
 a dear one. Next summer, God willing, we will pack 
 up baggage and babes, and hide in the up-country 
 somewhere, letting nobody know in what direction we 
 have gone ; be all by ourselves, to live over our court-
 
 66 Two. 
 
 ing days for a month at least. You are the best and 
 least selfish of women to do and bear, with such an- 
 gelic patience, all that is laid upon you by our posi- 
 tion. I know and feel this, dear, however careless I 
 may seem." 
 
 "I am sure, George, I never thought you careless," 
 said the flattered woman, with a grateful sob. " And 
 you are very good to be pleased with what I can do to 
 help you along. I have always felt that you were the 
 kindest husband in the world too good for me." 
 
 She did not envy the happiest of newly-made brides 
 her bliss while she revelled in that enchanted excur- 
 sion. The frosty air was as balmy as June ; the sere 
 landscape fairer than vernal bloom. She went in the 
 strength of it and the love-words her ears had drunk 
 many days and nights. 
 
 Says Caroline Helstone of Moore's alternate freez- 
 ing and thawing, his evident delight in her society, 
 and her backwardness in securing this: "If I had a 
 means of happiness at my command, I would employ 
 that means often. I would keep it bright with use, and 
 not let it lie for weeks aside, until it gets rusty." 
 
 Annie had never read " Shirley," but the same art- 
 less thought came into her simple head many times, 
 when Janette's visit and counsels became one of the 
 fast-fading by-gones to the man of the day, and his 
 domestic affairs slid back into the old grooves. No 
 doubt George loved her as truly as he said, and longed 
 to be with her all the while he was out of her sight. 
 He had declared that he esteemed the duty slavery 
 that kept them so much apart. Were she in his place 
 she could not be so conscientious. Temptation would
 
 Two. 67 
 
 overcome resolution sometimes. She would snatch by 
 stealth meat and drink for the famishing heart. But 
 George was stronger of purpose than she. 
 
 There was a mighty Sabbath-school convention in 
 Aiken in May. From far and near delegates came to 
 speak and to hear, and be entertained by the hospit- 
 able townspeople, and to bear to their homes the fame 
 of the paragon divine who, " when he stood among the 
 people," was, in genius and popularity, "higher than 
 any of the people from the shoulders and upward." 
 Mrs. Hayward was his prime assistant, of course, and 
 under her direction a mammoth festival was held in 
 the lecture and Sabbath-school room at the close of 
 the convention a show of flowers and banners and 
 illuminated legends and white uniformed Bands of 
 Joy, Hope, Faith, and Love ; of mountains of sand- 
 wiches arrd obelisks of creams and shaking towers of 
 jelly ; bulwarks of cake and confectionery and cascades 
 of lemonade such as the guests had never beheld else- 
 where. 
 
 " Excuse me, ma'am," said a stranger from the 
 country to Mrs. Sherman, who sat in an obscure cor- 
 ner, feeding a small child belonging to the Mission 
 school with cake and ice cream, " but isn't that Mr. 
 Sherman's wife standing by him at the head of the 
 table? My friend here has heard somewhere from 
 somebody that she is an awfully ordinary kind of per- 
 son, quite unsuitable to him, but I tell her she must 
 be mistaken. I've been watching them two ever so 
 long, and I'm certain they are husband and wife^and 
 very fond of one another at that." 
 
 " That lady is Mrs. Hayward, Mrs. Sherman's most
 
 68 Two. 
 
 intimate friend," answered Annie, with all the dignity 
 she could muster at so short a notice. " She is the 
 superintendent of the girls' department of the Sab- 
 bath-school, and the chairman of the committee of 
 arrangements for to-day." 
 
 " Ah ! " The old lady eyed her narrowly 'twixt con- 
 fusion and curiosity. " She's as handsome a woman as 
 ever I see a'most like a queen, I should say. That's 
 one reason I picked her out as the pastor's wife. Is 
 Mrs. Sherman anywheres around here ? If you spy her, 
 won't you point her out to me ? One always wants to 
 see what the wife of a distinguished man is like, you 
 know. Tears like we don't just know what to think 
 of him until we see what kind of woman he's married." 
 
 " I don't see her just now." Annie was growing 
 sick and cowardly, ashamed to reveal herself to the 
 blunt dame. " She is, as you have heard; plain in 
 appearance very * ordinary.' You would never single 
 her out in a crowd as Mr. Sherman's wife." 
 
 Then she got herself away out of the throng while 
 she had strength to move ; slipped through a side door 
 opening upon the parsonage garden, and so reached 
 her home, deserted this afternoon even by the ser- 
 vants, and had several hours in which to think and to 
 suffer. 
 
 The parsonage was crowded with visitors all that 
 evening, but Mrs. Hayward was " to the fore," and 
 diverted general attention from the harassed looks of 
 the hostess, who poured out unnumbered cups of tea 
 and coffee in the heated dining-room, in obedience to 
 the orders of the young lady and gentlemen waiters, 
 moving and speaking like one in a dream. She wore
 
 Two. 69 
 
 a plain black silk, her hair was tucked tightly behind 
 her ears, and her collar was crooked. 
 
 " Such a forlorn and don't-carish figure ! " muttered 
 one school-girl to another. 
 
 For once she applied her adjectives correctly. Annie 
 was forlorn and she did not care how she looked or 
 what became of her. 
 
 It was on that night that little Bennie, her dead 
 father's namesake and the " mother's boy " of her 
 flock, was taken ill with brain fever. Few men are 
 born nurses ; but some, under the teaching of love, 
 rival woman in this her peculiar sphere ; develop such 
 patience, ingenuity, and tenderness as combine with 
 their strength to make them blessed ministrants in the 
 chamber of suffering. George was deeply attached to 
 his boy. He would have lopped off his right hand 
 without a murmur, if by the lesser loss he could save 
 the priceless life that was in visible danger from the 
 beginning of the attack. But, unskilled in household 
 occupations, with a natural aversion to the homely 
 details of a sick-room, and the shrinking from the con- 
 templation of physical anguish common to those who 
 are themselves faultlessly sound in health, he was a 
 hindrance rather than a help to those who had the 
 care of the unconscious child. The disease ran its 
 course with direful swiftness. On the third day after 
 the seizure the physicians pronounced the case hope- 
 less. 
 
 The verdict was given beside the dying child and 
 in the presence of both parents. Bennie lay in his 
 mother's lap, his restless head pillowed upon her 
 bosom. She did not quail at the dread sentence, did
 
 7<D Two. 
 
 not weep or move ; only gazed upon her darling's face 
 with an expression that awed and calmed those who 
 saw it. Her eyes were clear and solemn and had a 
 far-seeing look that seemed to follow him in anticipa- 
 tion into the shadowless land. 
 
 " My bonnie, bonnie boy!" she said, softly, forget- 
 ful that others were by, " your cross has been light ; 
 your crown has come very soon. The dark valley is a 
 safe and easy road to such tiny travellers." 
 
 The family physician, a grave, observant man, heard 
 the loving murmurs as he stood behind her chair, 
 moved aside instinctively to make way for the father 
 who had bowed his head upon the mantel with a 
 heavy groan when the truth was told him, and now 
 turned as if to approach his wife. He checked him- 
 self a few paces off, stared wildly at the changed face 
 lying against the mother's breast and rushed from the 
 apartment. The holy tranquillity of Mrs. Sherman's 
 eyes was troubled. 
 
 "Poor papa!" she said, simply, "he will miss his 
 boy. Doctor, will you go to him, please? He needs 
 comfort." 
 
 " There is but one earthly friend whose presence 
 would be acceptable to him at this moment, madam," 
 was the respectful reply, " and that is his wife. Your 
 child will not notice your absence; he does not suffer; 
 your husband does." 
 
 She did not answer for several moments, and her 
 face drooped lower until it rested on Bennie's. "You 
 may be right," she said at length. " Can you hold 
 him while I am gone ? " 
 
 Her light footstep was soundless in the carpeted hall
 
 Two. 71 
 
 and library. The door of the inner room George's 
 sanctum was shut but not fast ; it moved without 
 sourtd upon its hinges, but she did not pass the thres- 
 hold. Why should she when one glance showed her 
 the physician's mistake ? 
 
 George sat in his study-chair, one elbow on his 
 knee, his face hidden in his handkerchief, weeping in 
 the vehemence of woe so terrifying to the beholder 
 when it shakes manhood from self-control. Mrs. Hay- 
 ward knelt upon a hassock before him, her tears stream- 
 ing as fast as his. Her left arm was about his neck, 
 and his encircled her waist. An affecting tableau I 
 should not dare describe were not the sketch taken 
 from life. 
 
 " Dearest George! " she cooed, " for the sake of the 
 children and friends left to you, for the sake of your 
 work, do not yield to this crushing blow ! Oh, if my 
 love and sympathy could lesson one pang ! the knowl- 
 edge of my devotion comfort you ! " 
 
 " Sweet comforter ! my angel of mercy ! what should 
 I do in this hour without you ? " 
 
 Annie saw her husband wipe away the grief marks 
 from the face upturned to his, and stoop to kiss it. 
 She shut the door as noiselessly as she had opened it 
 and went back to her boy. 
 
 The last scene was very near. Mrs. Sherman held 
 him all through the final convulsion, tearless and ap- 
 parently composed. Some one suggested that Mr. 
 Sherman should be summoned. The speaker's voice 
 was guarded, but the wife heard and answered quietly 
 but firmly : " No ; he does not wish it." 
 
 With her own hands she closed the blue eyes that
 
 72 Two. 
 
 had ever been fountains of love to her (who needed 
 love so much !), arrayed the perfect little form for its 
 last peaceful sleep and laid him upon his bed, bidding 
 the sobbing children " kiss him good night." They 
 clustered about her as she left the room and turned 
 the key in the lock. She paused to scan their fright- 
 ened, tear-stained faces. 
 
 " My darlings," she said, in her accustomed gentle 
 tones, " it is late and you have had no supper. Shall 
 mamma go down and give you some ? " 
 
 Her first act on reaching the dining-room was to 
 pour out a cup of coffee, sweeten and cream it as 
 George liked to have it, and send it to the library by 
 Georgina, the eldest daughter. 
 
 "Don't go into the study, dear," she directed. 
 "Knock at the door and wait until papa opens it. 
 Tell him you think it will do him good. He will be 
 gratified that you have remembered him in your dis- 
 tress. Ask if you may not take him up something 
 more substantial a sandwich, or some biscuit and 
 chicken." 
 
 " I always said she was an oyster ! " ejaculated one 
 of Mr. Sherman's enthusiastic disciples when this epi- 
 sode of the mournful history was reported to her. 
 " She has not a grain of sentiment or delicacy about 
 her. I never heard of anything more repulsive in my 
 life." 
 
 Mrs. Hayward possessed feeling and refinement in 
 generous measure, and she manifested these by coax- 
 ing her Platonic lover to sip the strong coffee in 
 spoonfuls, feeding him with her white hands, and 
 weeping with gratitude when he blessed her for her
 
 Two. 73 
 
 loving solicitude, owning that the beverage had 
 quieted and strengthened him. 
 
 I have told my story badly if I have produced upon 
 the mind of a single reader the impression that Mr. 
 Sherman and his favorite parishioner were hypocrites,' 
 or that either descried the remotest approach to crimi- 
 nality in an intimacy which they named the love of 
 brother and sister. Mrs. Hayward really considered 
 herself a model of purity and propriety and would 
 have repudiated with honest horror the suggestion 
 that her claim upon her spiritual mate trespassed 
 upon Mrs. Sherman's legal or moral rights. George 
 Sherman would have sworn in good faith upon the 
 oracle of his holy religion that he was true to his wife 
 in intent and in deed. I write this in sad sincerity 
 with no thought of sarcasm, regretful the while that 
 conscience has laid upon me the task of throwing 
 light upon a blurred page of human nature. 
 
 I am assured that, among the errors of this age and 
 land, none is gaining ground more rapidly in circles 
 where morality and religion are openly acknowledged 
 as ruling principles, than the laxity of respect for the 
 sacredness, the absoluteness of the marriage tie. Hardly 
 a week passes in which I am not appalled by the sud- 
 den gaping before my sight of gulfs as dark as nio-ht 
 and deep as hell, sundering those whom the world has 
 hitherto believed to be one in feeling as in name I 
 know women whose choicest trophies are the con- 
 quests of married men ; wreaths of victory none the 
 less honorable in their opinion because beaded with 
 tears and blood wrung from the hearts of wives who 
 are so old-fashioned in their creed as to consider that
 
 74 Two. 
 
 their husbands' affections belong, as entirely to them 
 as do theirs to the men they call " lords." 
 
 There is but one safe test in cases of conscience of 
 this description, for if Love is not a competent umpire, 
 let Conscience sit in his stead. 
 
 The rule should work both ways. 
 
 George Sherman held his wife's devotion in light 
 esteem, perhaps, but his wrath would have been deep 
 and fierce had he chanced to discover her in the re- 
 ception of such consolation from Mrs. Hayward's 
 brother as the bewitching widow gave to him. I 
 have written upon this subject before, and more than 
 once. If I were to protest against the profanation of 
 the names of marriage and friendship offered by the 
 Platonic loves of the day, every time I set pen to paper, 
 and every word were living fire to burn into the souls 
 of the parties to the horrible fraud, I should not ex- 
 press too strongly the detestation which the lovers of 
 truth and honor should feel for these. 
 
 But and herein lie mystery and discouragement 
 those who teach and practice moral and pious pre- 
 cepts are not severe upon cruelties such as I have de- 
 scribed. I have sat, with high, indignant pulses and 
 set teeth, in a group of amiable Christian people, well- 
 bred and well-educated, and listened to stories of this 
 and that " soul friendship " (so styled in mockery by 
 the most Christian narrators), illustrated by hand- 
 squeezings and tender billets and the kiss of peace, 
 these being retailed as pleasant jests, with zestful re- 
 lations of the cleverly eluded arts of jealous wives to 
 regain their lost property and punish their rivals ; mar- 
 velled with growing horror at the number of authentic
 
 Two. 75 
 
 anecdotes that followed hard upon one another after 
 the subject was once broached, until I have sickened 
 into disgust of my kind, and the Evil One has injected 
 harrowing doubts of the existence of any right thing, 
 anything pure, honorable, or of good report in this sin- 
 defiled world. 
 
 The pastor's country-bred wife was unsophisticated. 
 Mrs. Hayward said so, and she ought to know. She 
 would have sneered more loftily than ever had she 
 guessed that the tame, dull wife the barn-yard fowl 
 with whom Fate had yoked her eagle crouching that 
 night in the dim and dusty garret which was the only 
 retreat available for her in all the house, sat in judg- 
 ment upon the spirit union of her queenly self with 
 the kingly bird, and pronounced it a sin against her- 
 self and HIM in whose name George and Annie Sher- 
 man had been pronounced ONE. 
 
 " She has robbed me ! " said the narrow-minded 
 woman, too spent by suffering to think of revenge ; 
 too true to her husband to meditate exposure. " I 
 hope GOD will forgive her ! Some day perhaps I 
 may!" 
 
 Then she knelt by the trunk on which she had been 
 sitting and asked the Hearer of the afflicted and needy 
 to pardon her beloved and give her grace to be dumb 
 as to her wrongs. 
 
 She did not die of her hurt. If wounds of this na- 
 ture were mortal, the supply of widowers in the mat- 
 rimonial market would divert the attention of the 
 seekers after spiritual affinities from the pursuit of 
 " charming " married men. George is Doctor Sher- 
 man flfow ; a very pope in his principality of Aiken,
 
 76 Two. 
 
 which has grown into a great city, and Mrs. Hayward 
 is yet his prime minister. His wife still looks well to 
 the minute economies of his household, and leaves 
 church government, fancy bazaars and Sabbath-school 
 festivak to an active corps of deaconesses. She has 
 brought up her children in the fear of GOD, and to re- 
 spect their father as a wise, good man. But they do 
 not love him as they do their gray-haired mother, al- 
 though they have never suspected the secret that 
 blasted the sweetest of her earthly beliefs the night 
 Bennie died. 
 
 Only once did the seal upon her lips bend as if ready 
 to break. The temptation to indiscretion was a re- 
 mark of Georgie's respecting an incongruous marriage 
 between two of her young acquaintances. 
 
 " It is too bad to see such a man sacrificed to a silly 
 doll," said the girl. 
 
 " My love," remonstrated the gentle mother, " since 
 he wooed and wedded her of his own free will, is it 
 not his duty, one from which nothing can absolve him, 
 to submit himself like a man and a Christian to the 
 consequences of his voluntary act ? "
 
 THE HEART OF JOHN STEWART. 
 
 THERE were no external marks of the hero about 
 the subject of this story. He was tall, gaunt, and 
 angular ; he stooped slightly ; his hair was iron-gray ; 
 his features, never handsome, were grave to severity. 
 " Hard-featured," people called him who had never 
 seen the rare, sudden smile that reminded those who 
 remarked it of the break of the sunrise down and over 
 the mountains. He was in his private office on a 
 bright June morning, dressed in decent black, with a 
 smooth white cravat tied after the fashion of forty 
 years ago ; the close-bodied dress coat he had never 
 laid aside for the modern frock or sack worn by his 
 associates during business hours, buttoned about his 
 spare waist, and showing his shoulder-blades sharply, 
 as he bent over his desk, reading the letters brought 
 by the early mail. 
 
 The last opened was the longest, and bore the same 
 signature as his own, with a " Jr." added flourishingly 
 in the college-boy's boldest hand. The senior's eyes 
 lingered upon this as they had not upon the subject- 
 matter of the epistle. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, within himself, although his 
 thin lips did not stir, " I suppose that would have 
 been the name of my son if I had ever had one." 
 77
 
 78 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 He docketed the rest of the letters, summoned a 
 clerk to receive them with his instructions respecting 
 the answers to be written, and, when again alone, sat 
 in his revolving-chair, his head upon his hand, and 
 eyes half-shut, his nephew's letter lying open before 
 him. His nephew and heir, so decreed the world, ever 
 ready to interest itself in rich men's affairs, and paid 
 the boy due court accordingly. A nice boy, take 
 him all-in-all ; bright-faced and bright-tempered, who, 
 as he had informed his uncle by mail, had taken 
 the third honor in college, and was naturally desirous 
 that his benefactor should attend the approaching 
 Commencement. John Stewart's only and dead-bro- 
 ther's only child, whom he had maintained since his 
 father's death, fifteen years back, although the widow 
 had married a man in comfortable circumstances. 
 The boy had behaved as well as could be expected 
 from a lad " with expectations ; " presuming less upon 
 these than most persons of his age would have done; 
 deporting himself respectfully, but not servilely, to 
 the rich bachelor, and never vexing his moral, respect- 
 able soul with pathetic petitions for means to pay 
 debts of honor, or pleading the unavoidable expenses 
 of college life as a reason for the increase of the liberal 
 allowance transmitted to him quarterly. 
 
 It was not anxiety about the actual John Stewart, 
 Jr., which shaded the deep-set eyes with a sadder seri- 
 ousness, drew more tightly the crow's-feet at the cor- 
 ners of his eyes, the wider, longer furrows about the 
 mouth. It was the thought of that other to whom 
 the name should have belonged, the boy who had 
 never been, the fine youth who should have penned
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 79 
 
 that letter, or for it did not seem to him that he 
 could have suffered him out of his sight for long at a 
 time who should now be sitting opposite him, talking 
 in the cheery, hearty way he liked to see in young 
 men, although he had never had it himself ; looking 
 into his eyes with others as loving, and far more 
 beautiful, dark gray, with long, black lashes, such as 
 he used to meet so often at the church door, when 
 Ursula Force sang in the choir of the Presbyterian 
 church at the other end of town. 
 
 The church had been abandoned of its worshippers, 
 and sold for a hat-factory twenty years since, and five 
 years before that Ursula married the showy young 
 clergyman, who turned all the girls' heads, and made 
 those of their elders shake in doubting reproof, during 
 the winter the old pastor lay dying of consumption. 
 Faithful shepherd to the last, he still kept watch and 
 ward over his flock, although heart and flesh were 
 faint. All that concerned their welfare, temporal or 
 spiritual, interested him, and John Stewart well under- 
 stood the meaning of the long hand-pressure, the pity- 
 ing look in the dim eyes, that were his salutation on 
 the last night he sat up alone with him. He had taken 
 his turn at watching, with half-a-dozen other young 
 men in the church, for three months ; learned many 
 and lasting lessons from the lips which were so soon 
 t be dumb. He had forgotten none of them, but he 
 remembered that latest interview as distinctly as if it 
 had taken place but yesterday. Not a word was spoken 
 by either touching the weight that was crushing the 
 spirit of one and sorely grieving that of the other, 
 until the night was far spent. Then, the pastor laid
 
 80 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 his trembling hand upon that which had just held the 
 cup to his lips. 
 
 " My dear boy, GOD will help you bear it ; I cannot. 
 But I am praying for you all the time that you are 
 breasting the deep waters." 
 
 Ursula Force had been to him almost as a daughter, 
 and he had cordially approved of her engagement with 
 John Stewart. She could hardly have done better 
 popular beauty though she was than to put her hap- 
 piness in the keeping of one whose sound principles 
 and strong sense were fast earning for him a name 
 and a place in the community, whose heart the pastor 
 knew to be as true and pure as gold. The Reverend 
 Norman Lansing had captivated her fancy and flat- 
 tered her vanity, but the old clergyman doubted his 
 ability or disposition to make her as happy as the less 
 demonstrative wooer would have done. 
 
 " He loves himself too well," he had said to his wife. 
 " The girl has made a mistake a sad, sad mistake ! " 
 
 He repeated this to John Stewart that night, in a 
 sorrowful, absent-minded way, as if his eyes were peer- 
 ing down the vista of years to come. " She will live 
 to repent it." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " was the hoarse rejoinder. 
 
 He meant it then and always. She had flung him 
 aside and the memories of years of sindj-hearted de- 
 votion, with as little apparent compunon as if she 
 had been giving away a garment, usefuPonce, but now 
 out of fashion. The wrench had warped the man's 
 nature, but the grain was too noble to allow him to 
 harbor a thought of spite or revenge. The thing con- 
 secrated by his love was sacred for evermore.
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 81 
 
 His only intimate friend the one confidant of this 
 and every trial from their school-days up to manhood 
 died the following year, leaving a widow and an 
 infant. John Stewart visited them, cared for them as 
 if he had been in truth the lost husband's brother, 
 until the young woman, her weeds still fresh, begged 
 him, amid tears and blushes, to " discontinue his 
 pointed attentions. They set people to talking, and 
 and the truth was she was engaged to marry Mr. 
 Walsh, a very old friend, to whom she had been at- 
 tached before her union with her lamented George, 
 and he was disposed to be jealous about Mr. Stewart's 
 visits. She was very grateful for all his goodness 
 since dear George's death. She didn't know how she 
 could have got along without his help but people 
 would talk ! " 
 
 " Jealous of me ! " said John Stewart, widening his 
 sad eyes in blank amaze. " Why, Mrs. Judson, you, 
 your new lover, and ' people ' generally, should know 
 that the fact that you were once George's wife would 
 hedge you about from any thought or word of mine 
 inconsistent with the respect I bear his memory. If 
 he were living, you would not be more effectually pro- 
 tected from me." 
 
 But he obeyed her behest and " people's " scruples. 
 From that day to this he had avoided the society of 
 ladies. " Misogynist and mercantile machine," sneered 
 flippant girls, tot yet sufficiently world-wise to see in 
 his wealth an^ample cloak for his austerity and indif- 
 ference to their charms. They thought him " an odi- 
 ous bear" and " a wooden man," and turned up their 
 noses pertly at meeting him in the street. "A disap-
 
 82 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 pointed being who deserves a better fate," and " Such 
 a good chance thrown away," sighed manoeuvring 
 matrons and prudent spinsters. He had never looked 
 upon^Ursula Lansing's face, had not heard her name 
 in a decade. He only knew that her husband was 
 dead, and that she was childless. 
 
 Like himself. No son of hers, bearing another 
 man's name, would ever strike him to the heart with 
 her eyes. Was it the June sunshine or the little glass 
 of mignonette set in the window by the Scotch porter 
 whom the clerks deemed half-witted, yet dared not 
 tease because Mr. Stewart protected him that brought 
 her so vividly before him this morning? It certainly 
 was not John Stewart Jr.'s letter lying unanswered 
 upon the desk at his elbow. 
 
 By the way, it must be attended to. He shook 
 himself as from sleep, and wrote to the lad less stiffly 
 than was his custom, accepting his invitation for Com- 
 mencement, and requesting him to engage a comfort- 
 able room on the second floor, with a sunny front, in 
 the best hotel in the college town, for his accommoda- 
 tion. He wrote again, two days in advance of his 
 departure, to notify the junior by what train to expect 
 him, and found him dutifully awaiting him at the 
 depot. The second-floor room had a sunny front, but 
 the windows opened upon a piazza, and the fastidious & 
 bachelor closed his blinds upon noticing this, the more 
 T quickly and securely for seeing the flutter of a silk 
 dress at a neighboring door as he leaned out to undo 
 the fastening that held open a shutter. 
 
 The college-hall was thronged that night to hear 
 the orations of the junior class. Mr. Stewart attended
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 83 
 
 to please his nephew. He .was the boy's guest in 
 some sense, and would sacrifice his personal ease for 
 his gratification. From beginning to end of the ex- 
 ercises he sat with outward decorum and inward tor- 
 tures, as destitute of sympathy with the enthusiasm 
 of the students and the gay complaisance of the vis- 
 itors as if he had been one of the moulded carya- 
 tides supporting the galleries. They were crowded 
 with ladies young, merry, fashionable, and intel- 
 lectual and a continual battery of bright eyes was 
 bent upon the very gray-haired nabob in the dress 
 coat and prim cravat, sitting immovable and un- 
 smiling, in the centre aisle. But the most charming 
 and the most watchful failed to detect a token 
 of recognition of their existence. He was very cal- 
 lous or very shy, they decided, with various degrees 
 of pique. Whoever would make beaux ycux at his 
 fortune with any hope of success would have to 
 select John, Jr., the presumptive legatee, as the means 
 to an end. 
 
 " A little tired with the journey and the speeches, 
 and the music made my head ache," confessed the 
 uncle, politely suppressing a yawn, when John, Jr., 
 had escorted him to his chamber. "And since there 
 will be a good deal more of the same thing to-mor- 
 row, I must have a fair night's rest. That will set me 
 up all right. I won't ask you in. It is late. Good- 
 night ! Thank you, but I seldom dream ; that is a 
 youthful habit," for the boy had wished him " sound 
 slumbers and pleasant dreams." 
 
 The beams of the full moon streamed in between 
 the movable slats of the window-blinds.
 
 84 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 " I was sure I shut them up tight," thought John 
 Stewart, and, before striking a light, crossed the room 
 to exclude the white rays. 
 
 A waft of mignonette scent came to him from 
 without. Some one was strolling up and down the 
 piazza, singing very softly to herself an old-fashioned 
 Scotch ballad, " Ye banks and braes." It was a rich, 
 sweet voice, and the unseen occupant of the chamber 
 stayed his hand that he might listen ; his head bowed 
 upon 'his chest, and eyes almost closed his wonted 
 attitude of reverie. Busy fingers, with talons of 
 steel, seemed to tug and strain at his heart-strings, 
 until he nearly swooned in the mingled anguish and 
 pleasure of recollection. It was the song he used to 
 love best, Ursula's favorite, as they rambled in the 
 great garden behind her father's house, sauntering 
 under the summer moon along the walk edged with 
 mignonette. The mignonette that bloomed and 
 blackened into dust in the last generation ; the gar- 
 den now built up with tall brick stores. Yet, in the 
 blinding spasm of memory, he believed himself there 
 still for one wild moment ; felt Ursula's hand in his, 
 her breath upon his cheek. 
 
 When he could look up and command his thoughts, 
 a shadow lay athwart the moonlit floor. A lady, 
 dressed in white, with a black lace shawl thrown 
 over her head and shoulders, leaned on the piazza- 
 - railing, and gazed upward at the moon. She stood 
 there still, without change of posture or gaze, five 
 minutes later, when the blinds were unclosed and John 
 Stewart stepped through the long French window. 
 
 "Ursula!"
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 85 
 
 A start of intensest surprise a quick, impetuous 
 movement toward him with both hands outstretched 
 in rapturous welcome then, a recoil as abrupt, a 
 burying of the face in her hands as if overpowered by 
 shame and tenderness these told the whole story to 
 the heart that had ached emptily for her for a quarter 
 of a century. 
 
 " Ursula ! " The long-locked tide surging up in a 
 rush of passion, longing and pity. " Do we not stand 
 in heart where we did in the blessed olden time the 
 dear lang syne when we loved and trusted one another ? 
 Oh, my darling, I have wanted you so long! so long! 
 Come back to me ! " 
 
 She made as though she would have fallen at his 
 feet had he not upheld her. Her voice was tremulous 
 with weeping. 
 
 " Noble ! faithful ! Can you forgive ? " was all he 
 could distinguish of the incoherent murmur. 
 
 " I forgave you always ! I forget now," was the 
 answer. 
 
 They talked together long and earnestly in the 
 moonlight that mellowed the ravages of time in 
 both. 
 
 " I did not know why I was too restless to think of 
 sleep to-night," she said, clasping her hands upon his 
 arm, in the well-remembered fashion that thrilled him 
 through and through, raising the still lovely face and 
 ever-matchless eyes to his view. " I could not divine 
 what impelled me to walk here when I believed every- 
 body else on this side of the house had retired ; to 
 muse of old times and lost happiness, and renew the 
 vain repentance that has been my hourly companion
 
 86 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 for years. I did not dream you were so near me. I 
 understand it all now. O John, if I sinned against 
 you, I also sacrificed my own peace of mind ! I have 
 suffered, I can never tell you how much ! " 
 
 " You never shall try to tell me never, if I can help 
 it, look back to the season we have passed apart from 
 one another. We begin our new life or join it on to 
 the old so closely we shall never see the seam where it 
 is welded from this hour." 
 
 When John, Jr., called to breakfast with his uncle, 
 he was directed to a private parlor he had not been 
 instructed to engage. A handsome woman, in a flow- 
 ing muslin negligt? and a lace breakfast-cap, looking 
 sweet and cool as a day-lily, in the shaded room, hot 
 as was the July morning, was pouring out the million- 
 aire's Souchong. John Stewart arose at his nephew's 
 entrance, and shook hands with him, his face aglow 
 with his rare smile. 
 
 " Mrs. Lansing, allow me to present my brother's 
 son and my namesake. John, my boy, this lady has 
 promised to become your aunt in season to listen to 
 your graduation speech." 
 
 She kept her word, but the ceremony was performed 
 at the house of the officiating clergyman, and so quietly 
 that not three persons in the crowd packing every 
 corner of the audience-hall to overflowing that scorch- 
 ing day, suspected the relation just formed between 
 the pretty widow whose errand to the neighborhood 
 was said by the gossips to be husband-catching, and 
 the wealthy city merchant who chanced to get a seat 
 in the same pew with her. They did not speak or 
 look at one another, it was remembered afterward, al-
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 87 
 
 though both appeared to hearken with especial inter- 
 est to poor, dazed John's oration. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. John Stewart were off upon their 
 bridal tour before the story of their renewed courtship 
 and hasty wedding took wind. The honeymoon was 
 spent by the time they settled themselves in their city 
 home. The whirlpool of gossip that had dashed and' 
 roared into stormy foam at every mention of their 
 names, seethed itself into meek whispers at Mr. Stew- 
 art's reappearance in his accustomed haunts, dignified 
 and quiet as ever ; as circumspect in demeanor and 
 formal in attire, as vigilant and energetic in business. 
 The most forwardly-inquisitive of his acquaintances 
 durst not question him as to the causes that led to his 
 change of life. The least gallant declared that his 
 wife's face and manner were enough to turn the brain 
 of a younger and more impressible man. That he had 
 succumbed to their magic was a proof that old Jack 
 Stewart had yet a morsel of heart hid away somewhere 
 in his lean body ; a thing nobody would have credited 
 without indisputable evidence. 
 
 Mrs. Stewart was a remarkably well-preserved wo- 
 man. In reality she was but six years younger than 
 her husband. A stranger would have guessed sixteen, 
 and then marvelled at her fresh complexion, dazzling 
 teeth and sparkling eyes, at her lively flow of society 
 chitchat, and the girlish music of her laugh. Her 
 beauty and health had been her only capital all^her life, 
 and she had guarded both with scrupulous care, re- 
 ligiously avoiding disquieting cares and profound 
 thought whenever she could. She came back to the 
 city which was her girlhood's home without a visible
 
 88 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 blush over the fickleness and perfidy that had preceded 
 her departure from it as Norman Lansing's hastily- 
 wooed bride ; without a haunting memory, so far as 
 lookers-on could discern, of the man who had lured 
 her from her troth to her earlier lover, or regret that 
 she had, in yielding to his suit, delayed her present 
 good fortune. She had known privations as the spouse 
 of an invalid clergyman so ran the talk of the wise- 
 acres trials by poverty and the peevish humors of an 
 arbitrary, sick and disappointed man. If she had ever 
 laid these to heart, she hid their imprint successfully. 
 She heartily enjoyed her altered position, the luxurious 
 establishment of which she was mistress ; the large cir- 
 cle of appreciative admirers collected about her by 
 her husband's wealth ; was unaffectedly grateful to 
 him to whom she owed her prosperity. 
 
 Thus much Society saw. There could be no fault 
 found with her demeanor to her mature bridegroom. 
 It was respectful and affectionate without being fool- 
 ishly fond. She was watchful of his comfort, quick 
 in recognition of his attentions and many excellent 
 qualities, and had the good taste to refrain from all 
 public allusions to the circumstances of their old-time 
 intimacy and their reunion. What common sense 
 and the innate delicacy for which he seldom received 
 credit did for him in the regulation of his behavior 
 outside of his home, tact accomplished for her. Bril- 
 liant she had never been. The past had showed that 
 she was neither deep-hearted nor stable. She was 
 handsome and cunning, but never malicious or vicious 
 only thoroughly and altogether selfish in her ami- 
 able way.
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 89 
 
 The world is full of such people those for whom 
 the la\V" and the prophets hang upon the proposition 
 that self-preservation is the first law of nature. Hav- 
 ing taken the best imaginable care of themselves, they 
 are then willing rather desirous, in fact that the 
 rest of mankind should have a comfortable time. It is 
 disagreeable to see suffering and to listen to complaints. 
 These are the women who spoil their children by in- 
 dulgence, sooner than resist importunities and repress 
 waywardness ; who dupe instead of disputing with 
 their husbands ; whose god is their own ease, and 
 whose watchword through life is, " Anything for 
 peace ! " (to myself !) the bracketed phrase being 
 understood, not expressed. These are the women, 
 too, for whose sweet sake men more often go mad, 
 cut one another's throats and sacrifice their hopes for 
 time and eternity curse GOD, and die than for a 
 Lucretia, a Roland, a Sappho, or an Elizabeth Fry. 
 This was the woman at whose shrine, broken and 
 dusty, John Stewart had watched a vestal through 
 the unlighted vigil of years ; upon whom he now lav- 
 ished the wealth of heart and purse without stint. 
 
 " It is ever so nice to be adored ! You can't think ! " 
 lisped a pretty doll to me once, after describing the 
 incident of her conquest of one of the noblest hearts 
 that ever beat. 
 
 Ursula Stewart's tact saved her from such spoken 
 folly, but this was her idea, all the same. 
 
 They had been married two months. No mortal 
 ever knew how near to the widely-opened door of 
 Paradise John Stewart had lived in those eight weeks ; 
 how abundantly his early dreams and the oft and
 
 90 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 sternly repressed aspirations of riper manhood were 
 fulfilled by them." 
 
 " I feel, half the time, like a dreaming man, who 
 dreads the awakening," he said, one autumn morning, 
 as he toyed with his tea-cup to prolong the breakfast 
 talk with his wife. " As the children say about holi- 
 days, when they have actually come, ' It is too good 
 to be true.' " 
 
 " It is very naughty and unkind in you to hint at 
 the possibility of an awakening," retorted his vis-a-vis, 
 with a charming pout, belied by the tender smile in 
 the moist eyes. 
 
 "Unkind!" The word jarred upon his ear. He 
 arose, came around to her and slipped his hand under 
 her chin, brought the eyes he so tenderly loved to 
 bear upon his. " I do not think I could ever be that 
 to you, my darling. I know you could never deserve 
 it." 
 
 " You do trust me a little just a little, then ? " 
 
 She shifted his hand to her lips, then rested her 
 cheek, soft and rosy as a girl's, within his palm for a 
 moment. He felt the warmth of the caress long after 
 it was removed. 
 
 " If I did not, I should pray to die," he said, strongly, 
 almost fiercely. 
 
 They had exchanged the parting salutation he never 
 offered in the presence of a third person, and he was 
 at the foot of the tall flight of marble steps which 
 were the imposing entrance to his home, when her 
 voice called him softly from the top. 
 
 " John, love !" 
 
 He glanced back, and noted, for the thousandth
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 91 
 
 time, how fair and winsome she was ; how bewitching 
 her smile ; how like heaven her eyes. 
 
 "John, dear," bending forward with a mischievous 
 laugh, and speaking almost in a whisper, " please don't 
 wake up before you come back ! " 
 
 He raised his hat in reply, as if he would have 
 waved it in his triumphant security but for the thought 
 that others might see the gesture; the sudden illumi- 
 nation she knew how to kindle, flashing over his coun- 
 tenance and was gone. 
 
 John Stewart said a grave "Good-morning" to the 
 clerks in the store and outer office; a kindly one to 
 Scotch Jamie, who stood at the door of the inner, 
 watching, with spaniel-like faithfulness, for his master's 
 approach ; passed into his private room, hung up his 
 hat and folded his gloves in his methodical way ; 
 stooped, for a long second, to the glass of mignonette 
 in the window and sat down to read the letters await- 
 ing him. The first he opened was a bulky packet. 
 
 "MR. JOHN STEWART " (it began abruptly): "I have just returned 
 to what was a dear home to me from a visit in the far West, to find the 
 woman I have courted for five years has married you for your money. 
 She was engaged, fast and firm, to me, as you will see from the letters 
 I send with this the last one written just the day before her marriage 
 to you. She says in that that she loves me, me only, and is longing for 
 the day that will give her into my arms. She calls me her ' darling 
 husband.' And twenty-four hours afterward she sold herself to you. 
 When you have read these letters give them to her and tell her to return 
 mine ; also the gifts Twas constantly loading her with, like the blind 
 fool I was. I don't mean to be insulting to you, but a man in my posi- 
 tion can't pick his words. I am more sorry than angry with you ; for a 
 woman who has fooled one man as she has me, will fool another. 
 *' Very respectfully, 
 
 " DAVID GUILD."
 
 92 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 Mrs. Stewart was stepping into her carriage for a 
 round of morning calls when Scotch Jamie touched 
 his hat to her and handed a parcel. Seeing her hus- 
 band's handwriting upon the cover and suspecting one 
 of the surprise-gifts he had a habit of bestowing upon 
 her, she nodded graciously to the bearer, with a pleas- 
 ant " Thank you, Jamie! " and bade the coachman 
 " Drive on," as she sank upon the yielding cushions. 
 There were four seals upon the wrapping of the little 
 bundle, stamped with J ohn Stewart's monogram, and she 
 broke them smilingly. Twelve letters dropped out into 
 her lap. She knew them at a glance, and with a stifled 
 cry of horror, clutched at a fresher, smoother envel-. 
 ope directed in Mr. Stewart's hand to his wife. David 
 Guild's letter to him was folded up with a note to her. 
 
 Ursula, I have not read these, although bidden to do so. They are 
 yours, not mine. If what this man says is true, you should this hour be 
 his wife, instead of in my home. If he has spoken falsehood, you may 
 give me the letters to examine when I come in to dinner, and I will 
 answer him as he deserves. If you were indeed engaged to him when 
 you married me, I desire no further discussion of the subject with him, 
 or with you, now or ever. Words could not repair the wrong I have done 
 him, or the wrong you have done me. I still hope that you can deny his 
 accusation ; shall trust you until I learn my error from your own lips. 
 
 JOHN STEWART. 
 
 For one moment the fortunate mistress of the finest 
 mansion and carriage in the city thought of throwing 
 herself beneath the wheels that were bearing her down 
 the paved streets. For five minutes she revolved seri- 
 ously .the feasibility of writing twelve other letters, 
 innocent, friendly epistles, to be slipped into the en- 
 velopes directed to Mr. David Guild, the well-to-do
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 93 
 
 land agent and speculator she had thought a very toler- 
 able match until fate threw John Stewart at her feet. 
 If she had been morally sure that her husband had 
 spoken truth in asserting that he had not read the 
 fatal now abhorred love-letters forwarded by the 
 forsaken swain, she would have resorted to this subter- 
 fuge without a scruple. But it was difficult for a wily 
 nature to comprehend an upright one. If John had 
 inspected the contents of the packet even partially, 
 her stratagem would work out her more grievous dis- 
 comfiture. 
 
 " The straight path is always the safest," she uttered, 
 virtuously, and ordered the carriage homeward. 
 
 When there, she locked herself in her room and pro- 
 ceeded to business. The returned letters were burned ; 
 then she made up a bundle of Mr. David Guild's pres- 
 ents, which were mostly flashy jewelry, unworthy of 
 Mrs. Stewart's wearing and sent it off. to him with a 
 curt note, stating that she " had destroyed all his notes 
 and letters prior to her marriage to the man of her 
 choice, the only one she had ever truly loved." She 
 gave the meddler to understand, furthermore, that 
 " his impertinent and most dishonorable attempt to sow 
 dissension between herself and her honored husband 
 had been useless ; had only cemented the confidence 
 between them. She forgave him freely, however. 
 She was too happy to cherish resentment against any 
 living creature, least of all, one who had professed to 
 be her true friend. She was disappointed and grieved 
 by his unkindness, but she yet remained, with sin- 
 cere wishes for his welfare and happiness, his friend, 
 URSULA STEWART."
 
 94 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 She was quite proud of the composition in reading 
 it over. It was neat and magnanimous, and could do 
 no harm should the wretch choose to send it to John. 
 He was a wretch a base, malicious villain, to cause 
 her so much annoyance when she was so comfortable ; 
 a jagged gravel-stone in her bed of roses. She had not 
 believed there were such cruel, wicked people in the 
 world. Of course, the affair would blow over, but there 
 would be a scene apologies, and making-up, and all 
 that with John, and the sooner it was gone through 
 with, the better. She dressed herself in her most be- 
 coming attire, called up her best looks, and went down 
 to meet him when she heard his latch-key in the front 
 door; was close beside him, while he hung his hat 
 upon the rack, her lips held up for the usual welcome 
 kiss. He did not offer it. Putting his hands behind 
 him, he looked down steadfastly at her. 
 
 " Where are the letters ? " 
 
 " I have burned them, John." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 He turned on his heel and walked into the library ; 
 would have shut himself in, had she not followed. 
 
 " What is it, Ursula ? " he asked, as she cast herself 
 upon his neck. 
 
 " Don't speak so coldly to me, John. You break my 
 heart," she sobbed. 
 
 He stood like a statue, the dry, nervous fingers in- 
 terlocked behind his back, his features hard, his eyelids 
 drooping. 
 
 " I was so poor ! so lonely ! " she went on. " He 
 persecuted me with his attentions, and I thought you 
 were lost to me forever."
 
 
 The Pleart of John Stewart. 95 
 
 " It was true, then, that when you married me you 
 were solemnly pledged to him?" he said in a harsh 
 voice, although his countenance did not change. 
 
 " But I never loved him," cried the wife, eagerly. 
 " I knew that all the while." 
 
 " The more shame to you if that was so. I have 
 heard enough." 
 
 He undid her arms, put them down to her side as if 
 she had been a lay-figure, crossed the room, and picked 
 up the evening paper. She understood, from that 
 instant, that all efforts to bridge the gulf would be 
 fruitless, and accepted the situation as she did all 
 other inevitable things, with philosophical grace. She 
 would no sooner have tortured her temper and sensi- 
 bilities by combating his fixed purpose than she 
 would have bruised her soft hands and arms by beat- 
 ing against a stone wall. 
 
 It is even a matter of doubt whether, as time wore 
 on, she did not find their changed manner of life more 
 to her taste than the former. She loved liberty and 
 luxury, and both were hers. The allowance granted 
 for her private wants was munificent, and she was not 
 galled in the least by the circumstance that it was a 
 stated sum paid at regular periods, instead of the con- 
 stant outflow of a lover's bounty. " Mr. Stewart " had 
 his apartments, and she hers. She liked society ; he soli- 
 tude. She was fond of amusements and gayety ; he 
 was wedded to his business. In short, he went his 
 way and left her to hers. She had found it " nice " 
 to be adored, but the present system had its advan- 
 tages. It was not exactly a cross, when one had made 
 up her mind to it, to be ever ready to receive and *re-
 
 96 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 turn caresses and love-words, but it did cost her some 
 thought ; was not, at all seasons, equally convenient. 
 If forced to frank confession, she would have owned 
 that she considered it sometimes a relief not to be 
 called upon for demonstrations of affection. They 
 were a bit of a bore when one was tired and dull, and, 
 to tell the truth, a trifle absurd in people of their age. 
 Courteous moderation was far more becoming. That 
 her husband suffered more than herself from the rup- 
 ture, in aught save in wounded pride, did not occur 
 to her as a subject worthy of consideration. John was 
 a sensible man and should have known better than to 
 imagine that a fine woman like herself could have lived 
 a widow ten years without admirers. He ought, if he 
 could be persuaded to regard the matter in a proper 
 light, to feel flattered, not incensed, that she threw the 
 land speculator overboard for him. But men were apt 
 to be jealous and unreasonable. She might thank her 
 stars that there had been but one explosion. Some 
 husbands would have growled about it incessantly. 
 
 They walked on, then, in their diverging paths ; he 
 growing daily more wealthy and more reserved, keener 
 in driving equitable bargains, and more reticent in all 
 pertaining to his personal affairs " Freezing and dry- 
 ing up," his acquaintances repeated concerning him so 
 often it grew into a by-word. She gained in popu- 
 larity steadily, and lost none of her good looks with 
 the revolving seasons that stole away the charms of 
 many younger and more sensitive women, until, on the 
 fifth anniversary of their wedding-day, she dropped 
 dead before her toilet-glass while arranging her hcad- 
 dre'ss for a dinner-party at the house of a friend.
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 97 
 
 " Disease of the heart," reported the papers in their 
 fulsome eulogies of the rich man's beautiful wife, and 
 they but followed the lead of the doctors who had in- 
 vestigated the case. John Stewart may have doubted 
 the correctness of the verdict, but he was as taciturn 
 in his dry-eyed mourning as he had been during his 
 wife's lifetime. The ways of the household continued 
 the same. A housekeeper managed the servants, did 
 the marketing, and looked after her employer's linen. 
 His valet, a gray-haired Scotchman, kept his apartments 
 in order. He had no intimate associates, although he 
 gave freely and cheerfully to public and private char- 
 ities. The needy never applied to him in vain, but 
 he shunned verbal thanksgivings as he did women. 
 Condolences and blandishments were alike ineffectual 
 in drawing him from his citadel of dignified indiffer- 
 ence to the sex who so pitied his loneliness and ad- 
 mired his fortune. 
 
 *' Freezing and drying up ! " echoed and re-echoed 
 his best friends. He settled John, Jr., in business, 
 and, when he married, made his wife a present of an 
 elegant house. Upon the birth of John the third, he 
 refused to attend the christening supper, but sent 
 with his " regret " a cheque for a handsome amount, 
 as a nest-egg for the boy's fortune. Yet he never 
 entered his nephew's house or saw the child unless by 
 accident. 
 
 " He cares for nothing but money," John complained 
 to his spouse. 
 
 She, justly indignant at the obstinacy that kept her 
 and hers out of their own, rejoined : " And means to 
 live forever to enjoy it, I verily believe." 
 5
 
 98 The Heart of John Stewart. 
 
 John Stewart was seventy-four years of age, when, 
 slipping upon the upper step of the marble flight lead- 
 ing up to his door, on a sleety night, he struck his 
 head with such force against the lower that he was 
 taken up for dead. He breathed his last ten hours 
 later. He never spoke after the hurt was received ; 
 only lay with closed eyes, the thin, gray hands folded 
 upon the heart men said had frozen and dried up long, 
 long ago, until death silenced the faint throbbing, and 
 the John Stewart Jrs. could come into their kingdom. 
 
 His will was the town-talk for the conventional nine 
 days. He had forgotten nobody who had ever showed 
 him a kindness, it seemed, or who could be said to 
 have the remotest claim upon his regard and wealth. 
 All his clerks, including Scotch Jamie, had large lega- 
 cies ; the benevolent institutions of city and State 
 were remembered, with dozens of his old pensioners, 
 from whom, when he was alive, he would never hear 
 a syllable of acknowledgment. Among the bequests 
 which excited wondering comment were these two : 
 
 " To David Guild, of , five thousand dollars, 
 
 in memory of an unintentional wrong once done him." 
 
 And "To James Stewart Judson, only child of my 
 very dear friend, George Judson, the sum of twenty 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 "Why, George Judson died forty odd years ago !" 
 cried the few who recollected that such a man had 
 lived. " Who would have thought of remembering 
 him all this while, except an- eccentric Scotchman like 
 Jack Stewart, who never parted with an idea when he 
 had fairly taken it up?" 
 
 He had left no directions concerning his own tomb-
 
 The Heart of John Stewart. 99 
 
 stone, and not one of the forty or fifty legatees felt 
 himself called upon to give of his newly-gotten sub- 
 stance for the erection of the same. In the shadow 
 of the stately shaft that adorns his wife's resting-place 
 is a sunken mound, unmarked and untended, save 
 when half-witted Jamie, now a white-haired man, walks 
 all the way from town on Sabbath afternoons in the 
 spring and summer to clip the tough grass and leave 
 a bouquet of mignonette upon the breast of his old 
 master. 
 
 " He had aye a kind word for me," says the silly 
 old fellow, when rallied or questioned upon the subject 
 of his devotion. " He had a wonderfu' gude heart, 
 had yon. The Lord He kenned, and the angels, and 
 meself. I doot if any ither body did." . 
 
 His is the spoken testimony upon this point. I 
 wish it were in my power to chronicle in a worthier 
 manner, and upon a more enduring page, the history 
 of the depth, the constancy, the stainless truth, the 
 passion, the patience, and the pain of THE HEART of 
 JOHN STEWART.
 
 WALL-FLOWERS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE weather was lovely, even for mid-April a 
 southern, not a northern April full of promise 
 of bloom and plenty in budding flowers and fruit 
 trees, all aglow with pink, like sunset clouds, or white 
 as from a new fall of snow. The March winds had 
 piped their last and gone to sleep for twelve months 
 to come, and the sunshine still, bright, beneficent 
 lay upon the old town lay nowhere more brightly 
 and warmly than along a broad, quiet street lined 
 with houses, that, ten years before, were neat as well 
 as spacious and tenanted each by the owner thereof. 
 This was the court end of the city, and the denizens 
 of this particular block were some of the " best fam- 
 ilies " in the State. And in the palmy days of Rich- 
 mond the seven-hilled, the phrase was not meaningless. 
 In the sombre mansions over there on the sunny side 
 of the way, there used to be brave merry-makings on 
 holidays and family anniversaries of birth or marriage. 
 Laces and jewels that had been heirlooms for gener- 
 ations were worn with quiet satisfaction the holders 
 were too well-bred to exhibit. There was abundant, 
 not ostentatious display of ancient silver stamped 
 IOI
 
 1 02 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 with crests tankards, goblets, and the like and 
 mighty mustering of courtly " gentlemen of the old 
 school," with white neckcloths and shaven chins, 
 smoothly-gallant speech and Chesterfieldian bows; 
 and beautiful old ladies who were not ashamed to 
 wear veritable caps of finest web over their own sil- 
 very hair, and whose silks were decorous in fashion 
 and grave in hue, as befitted the autumn of life. The 
 sons and daughters of these worthies bore well their 
 part in the social world ; ate savory meats, drank 
 costly wines, danced, married, and were given in mar- 
 riage, until the day that the war came and took the 
 young men away, leaving the maidens to weep over 
 the desolation of their people, the wasting of their 
 pleasant places. 
 
 The fire which was the finale of the four years' 
 tragedy had spared this aristocratic quarter, and none 
 of the homesteads we speak of had passed into the 
 hands of aliens. But a nameless shadow brooded upon 
 roof-trees and thresholds, something more solemn 
 than the decay which is the work of time alone. 
 Two or three of the residents, keenly appreciative of 
 the change, yet hardly comprehending in what it con- 
 sisted, had tried to enliven the exterior of their dwell- 
 ings by repainting the woodwork window-frames, 
 doors, etc. but the appearance of the square was not 
 more cheerful for their efforts. The other portions of 
 the buildings thus treated looked yet more dingy, and 
 their neighbors' domiciles more dreary. 
 
 The corner house had not been retouched since the 
 fearful " three days " that enveloped the city in a 
 shroud of pitchy smoke, hovering like a funereal ban-
 
 Wall-Flowers. 103 
 
 ner over the deserted capital, leaving everywhere 
 grimness in place of fairness, burning for beauty, ashes 
 in hearts as upon hearthstones. The ornamental iron 
 lamp-posts on each side of the stone steps vestiges of 
 a period antedating gas were broken in some places 
 and red with rust. The paint was scaling from the win- 
 dow-facings and the double-leaved front door in un- 
 sightly blotches, as if the building had broken out 
 with leprosy. The inner shutters, once white, were 
 now a dirty yellow, and in the attic story more than 
 one yawning pane bespoke shiftlessness or abject pov- 
 erty. Along the front of the first floor ran a balcony 
 upon which opened the parlor windows. The flooring 
 was rotten and discolored, gaping here and there into 
 holes ; but it was the most attractive feature of the 
 exterior, filled, as it was from end to end with plants 
 in pots geraniums, orange-trees and citron aloes 
 the only ones in bloom being a fine show of wall-flow- 
 ers, yellow and brown. The sun warmed them into 
 brightness and fragrance, and the light breeze bore 
 their breath into the room beyond the gay array. 
 
 " It is of no use ! " a young girl was saying, standing 
 in the middle of the floor, and looking despairingly 
 about her. " Do what I will, the place is shabby and 
 mean, even to my eyes which are used to it. How 
 much more " She threw her duster down petulantly, 
 and sinking upon an ottoman surveyed the apartment 
 with a curl of her pretty lip in which real sorrow 
 blended with contempt. 
 
 Yet it had been a noble room in its day. There 
 was melancholy grandeur in the lofty ceilings, defaced 
 with dust and dampness, and massive cornices, from
 
 104 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 which pieces had fallen, and never been replaced ; in 
 the oaken wainscot and curiously-carved mantels, the 
 arched doorways*and the tarnished frames of the once 
 august line of old portraits upon the wall. The floor 
 was also of oak, stanch and tight, but uncovered, save 
 for a faded rug in front of the fire-place. The furni- 
 ture, heavy and dark with age, yet partook of the gen- 
 eral air of decadence. The upholstery was frayed, and 
 the originally warm tints had degenerated into one 
 uniform shade of reddish brown. The windows were 
 curtainless. 
 
 " If we had but white Holland shades," sighed the 
 young lady, " or hanging baskets ! But, dear me ! 
 where is the sense of talking and wishing? I might 
 as well ask for Aladdin's lamp at once." 
 
 She tapped the bare floor with the toe of a neat 
 foot, and looked heartily discontented, thoroughly 
 discouraged. 
 
 Hers was a hard case, but in that section of our land 
 one so common as to excite little remark. Dandled in 
 the lap of luxury from her babyhood until she had passed 
 her eighteenth year, she had known no heavier impo- 
 sition upon mind and body than the usual course of 
 study appointed to damsels of high degree, until the 
 war put an end to her first season "out." Since then, 
 to use her own phrase, she had not had " half a chance 
 in life." Roswell Temple, her father, was a wealthy 
 man in days gone by, a lawyer by profession, but had 
 lived for years in elegant leisure upon the interest of 
 his inherited and acquired property. Of his two sons, 
 one had been slain at Manassas, the other at Sharps- 
 burg. Peace found him impoverished, prematurely
 
 Wall-Flowers. . 105 
 
 aged, and so utterly without occupation that he was 
 obliged to allow his eldest daughter, a widow, whose 
 husband had also fallen in battle, to go out as a daily 
 music-teacher; his wife and second daughter to take 
 in sewing ; while Bertha, the youngest, played maid-of- 
 all-work, their only colored servant being cook and 
 washerwoman. None of them grumbled in the hearing 
 of the others or of their neighbors, and their reticence 
 was the more praiseworthy, since they were not as a 
 family what were called original secessionists. Mr. 
 Temple had taken strong ground against disunion 
 from the first, argued in support of his views in pub- 
 lic and in private, and the elder daughters had gone 
 so far as openly to sport Union colors, until the fall 
 of Sumter. But Virginian blood runs deep ; and the 
 combat fairly inaugurated upon Virginian soil and 
 the sons conscripted, the Temples had cast in their 
 lot with the Confederacy, along with thousands of 
 others as half-hearted in the cause. They had 
 watched the progress of the army of which their 
 " boys " made a part, with breathless interest ; * 
 prayed for victory which meant their precious ones' 
 safety ; and mourned over disaster that stood almost 
 as the synonym of the young soldiers' death or cap- 
 tivity. Mrs. Temple's carpets and silver went to help 
 defray the cost of the later campaigns, and her hus- 
 band considered that he could not hold back his 
 means from the support of the government under 
 which he lived. 
 
 Bertha, alone of her name, had been a thorough 
 rebel from the beginning to the end of the needless 
 strife. Her political teacher was a certain Sterling
 
 io6 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 Cabell, a law student at the university when hostil- 
 ities began. He was twenty-three, Bertha nineteen, 
 and there had existed between them a sort of unof- 
 ficial engagement for more than a year. They ex- 
 changed letters every week, and for five months prior 
 to the momentous fourteenth of April, the gentle- 
 man's epistles had preached in equal measure of 
 secession and love. He had sprung to arms with the 
 host of Southern braves, so many of whom lie beneath 
 the sod on which they fought ; and for a year, as 
 Bertha stitched army shirts and wounded her fingers 
 with stiff tent cloth, she was stimulated by the re- 
 membrance that she was a soldier's love and the hope 
 of being a warrior's bride. But Cabell's expected 
 promotion did not come. His patrician shoulders 
 remained guiltless of straps, and his stout heart 
 began to waver. Not with doubts of the justice of 
 the cause but with misgivings as to the ultimate suc- 
 cess of the right. He filled his letters with railings at 
 iniquity and nepotism in high places, at unnecessary 
 hardships laid upon the many and the privileges of 
 the favored few ; at general mismanagement and in- 
 dividual corruption, until Bertha felt the firm earth 
 changing to a quicksand. At length, he obtained an 
 indefinite leave of absence, upon the pretext of vis- 
 iting relatives on the Eastern shore, and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Bertha had a letter from him by post, announcing 
 his departure for " other scenes than those that had 
 worn out patience and hope," promising to keep her 
 informed of his movements, and bidding her "trust 
 in him, and wait." Then a year passed a year that
 
 Wall-Flowers. 107 
 
 made a woman of her, which would have broken the 
 spirits and health of a weaker girl, for she heard not 
 one word to indicate the direction of his flight, if he 
 had flown only cruel, and what she felt were slan- 
 derous rumors of defection and desertion. Then a 
 blockade-runner brought her a full, she said a satis- 
 factory explanation under his own hand. He had 
 been misused, depreciated, kept down, in the Confed- 
 erate army ; and, in a moment of desperation, had 
 accepted an invitation from his maternal uncle, an 
 affluent New York citizen, to visit him. He intended 
 then honestly to return to the South as soon as bodily 
 and mental vigor was restored by rest, for he had 
 been brutally overwrought in the service. Nor had 
 he changed his mind. Should the strife be prolonged 
 he would not be recreant to the holy cause. 
 
 " Once a Virginian, always a Virginian ! " he wrote. 
 " Wherever I may be, in heart and spirit I am ever 
 with you and in my beloved State. In the hope that 
 I may be granted an opportunity of serving her abroad, 
 I have come to England. My uncle, a bachelor and a 
 man of wealth, taste, and education, is my travelling- 
 companion. He is as kind to me as if he were my 
 father ; but not this, nor any other consideration, will 
 weigh with me one instant when the coveted moment 
 shall arrive that opens the way to my home, to glory, 
 and to you. I have a presentiment that the time is 
 not far distant. Watch for me ! " 
 
 The letter came to Bertha just after the news that 
 Kidder, her second brother, had been left dead in 
 Maryland. 
 
 " Sterling, at least, is out of reach of the bullets,"
 
 108 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 she said, kissing the lifeless sheet. " What is glory 
 compared with life ? " 
 
 A question echoed by thousands of other women's 
 hearts, however gallantly their owners have borne up 
 to sustain the courage, to applaud the valor of lovers, 
 husbands, and sons. 
 
 Hopefulness was Nature's best endowment to her 
 a high, buoyant spirit, that seldom bowed, and that 
 not for long. She put Sterling's letter away with her 
 precious hid treasure, and waited. Another billet a 
 mere flag-of-truce note, dated Alexandria, Egypt, and 
 sent under cover to a friend in New York had reached 
 her just before the conclusion of the four years' strug- 
 gle. He was then on his way to the Holy Land and 
 did not expect to return for many months. The war 
 had been over a whole year, now, and the card on the 
 centre-table behind her was the only communication she 
 had received meanwhile from him, who was never out 
 of her true heart for an hour. A colored waiter from 
 the Spottswood Hotel had brought it that morning. 
 
 DEAR MRS. TEMPLE : With your permission, my uncle, Mr. Dent, 
 and myself will do ourselves the pleasure of calling upon you to-day at 
 one o'clock P. M. Sincerely, 
 
 STERLING CABELL. 
 
 " How queer and formal ! " said Ellen Temple. " To 
 mamma, too ! and not a word about us ! " carefully 
 refraining from looking at Bertha. 
 
 " I do not quite comprehend it, my dear," remarked 
 Mrs. Temple, re-reading the brief lines. " I should 
 have thought Sterling would feel sufficiently at home 
 to come at once to us as he used to."
 
 Wall-Flowers. 109 
 
 "Times have altered, mother dear," Bertha re- 
 sponded, gayly, dancing off with the priceless bit of 
 pasteboard in her hand, to the music of her own heart- 
 beats. " He is not sure what reception he will meet, 
 yet does not want to take us by surprise," she said 
 to herself, while she swept and dusted. " If he came 
 alone, he would have to talk to all ; so he brings his 
 uncle." 
 
 " Bertha ! " Mrs. Temple appeared at the door. 
 " Your friends will dine with us, of course ? " 
 
 " Not ' of course,' ma'am ; but it will be only polite 
 to invite them, I suppose," her countenance falling 
 perceptibly. " In that case I shall go to market. 
 Father's ideas are too lordly." 
 
 " What shall we have ? " The Temples rarely had 
 dinner company now, but the lady's hospitable 
 instincts were ready as ever. " Soup, of course. Then 
 for fish, boiled or baked shad, with egg-sauce. Poultry 
 is out of season, but lamb is in." 
 
 Bertha shook her prudent head. " But frightfully 
 dear. Beefsteak or mutton-chop would suit our purse 
 much better." 
 
 " For a gentleman's dinner, my love ? " 
 
 " Poor little mother ! It is too bad I can't afford to 
 please you in this respect. But a plain family dinner 
 is all we can offer. We will give them a hearty wel- 
 come to compensate for deficiencies. For dessert, I 
 will have whipped custards and sponge-cake, then 
 black coffee. The wine, pastry, olives, and sauces 
 they must do without for this once. I dare say they 
 have dined less sumptuously in an Arab tent, or among 
 the Laplanders, upon sour camel's milk and train oil."
 
 HO Wall-Flowers. 
 
 " Sterling will be shocked at finding everything so 
 changed," murmured Mrs. Temple, meekly retreating. 
 
 As I have said, audible repining was tacitly forbid- 
 den by the family policy, as were references to their 
 former estate. They bore their altered fortunes with 
 equanimity that would have excited amazement and 
 admiration had this not also been the habit of most of 
 their neighbors. They were conquered. That was 
 an accepted fact which fretting would not alter. They 
 must live by some means, and whatever handle came 
 uppermost was laid hold of, provided it was an honest 
 livelihood they hoped to earn by using it. Necessity 
 made labor honorable. But her mother's sigh sank 
 cuttingly into Bertha's heart. She had not thought 
 how these things would strike her lover. She must 
 remember that the experiences which had modified 
 her views upon certain subjects, had not been his 
 that he would hardly know her home for the same he 
 used to admire. Would her welcome blind him to 
 the dullness and poverty of her surroundings? Would 
 he not miss the appliances of wealth and refinement 
 he had ever connected in thought with her? 
 
 " As if he didn't know why our circumstances are 
 altered ! " she said, aloud and rebukingly. " When he 
 thinks of this, my purple calico will be a regal robe." 
 
 Nevertheless, she set about arranging the furniture 
 to the best advantage, stepping like a young princess, 
 to and fro, and carolling lightly 
 
 " Banish, O maiden, thy fears of to-morrow, 
 Dash from thy cheek, love, the tear-drop of sorrow { 
 Pleasure flies swiftly and sweetly away, 
 Tears for to-morrow, but kisses to-day ! "
 
 Wall-Flowers. in 
 
 she warbled, plying the feather duster the while, 
 wheeling straight-backed chairs out of line with the 
 wall, setting the sofas cornerwise, polishing the tall 
 jars on the ends of the mantel, getting down on her 
 knees to brush the dust from the carved legs of the 
 piano, and, as she passed, dropping her fingers upon 
 the keys in a snatched accompaniment to the rounde- 
 lay. It was at this moment that a gentleman passing 
 on the sidewalk turned his head at the sound of the 
 music and saw her. 
 
 The sun streamed through an unshuttered side 
 window, and glorified her as she stood against the 
 background of a dark portrait the full-length pre- 
 sentment of some remote ancestor her light chestnut 
 hair rippling back from her white forehead. " Fluffy," 
 she called it, because it would never lie smooth. It 
 was an aureola, now, every rebellious strand a thread 
 of light. Her eyes were downcast, her cheeks flushed, 
 and lips smiling apart with the words of her song 
 
 " Tears for to-morrow, but kisses to-day ! " 
 
 She moved away to a dusty old cabinet, still singing, 
 and the spectator, recovering himself with a start, 
 glanced at the upper windows as one nervous of ob- 
 servation, and walked on. 
 
 " Kisses to-day ! kisses to-day ! " The birds twit- 
 tered it in the boughs above his head ; the distant 
 hum of the river pulsed an accompaniment to the 
 tune he played with his fingers upon the cane he car- 
 ried. 
 
 " A pure, rich soprano voice, and a striking-looking
 
 112 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 girl ! " he thought, as a plausible solution of the en- 
 chantment. " This was doubtless a handsome street 
 in former days. The double row of shade-trees must 
 be very pleasant in summer. Northern capital is all 
 that is needed to make the city the joy of the whole 
 South, as it is beautiful for situation. It is time I 
 was making my way back to the hotel. The young 
 people have returned from their ride by this. ' Kisses 
 to-day ! kisses to-day ! " He broke off with a half 
 laugh as he detected himself humming air and words. 
 " It must be because the rest of the world is so full 
 of life and sunshine that I am betrayed into boyish 
 lightness!" 
 
 There could not be a more attractive route to the 
 lower part of the city than the way by which he Had 
 come, and this of necessity led him past the balcony 
 where were the wall-flowers. He could smell them 
 from the street, the front yard being a mere strip, 
 and, that he might inhale the delicious odor his pace 
 lagged, and he looked appreciatively toward the nod- 
 ding, smiling ranks. 
 
 She was busy still, mounted on an ottoman, dusting 
 the tinkling pendants of the old-fashioned chandelier, 
 her round arms exposed by the pinned-up sleeves of 
 the lilac print that fitted perfectly to the taper waist 
 and beautifully-molded bust ; her face upturned and 
 earnest. But she was not singing. Perhaps she would 
 break out again, as a bird trills after flight, when she 
 stepped back to the floor. The fragment he had 
 caught would haunt him until he heard, the rest of 
 the air could fit the stray tones together in his mind. 
 It was disagreeable to have a " singing in one's head."
 
 Wall-Flowers. 1 13 
 
 He stepped to the curb-stone, gazed intently up, then 
 down the street, and feigned to wait for some one, 
 striking idly with his cane at a knot of dandelions on 
 the edge of the gutter. The expected comrade did 
 not appear, although he lingered two, three minutes, 
 nor did the songster resume her strain. When con- 
 vinced that waiting was vain, he pursued his prome- 
 nade, first casting a final glance over and through the 
 wall-flower hedge. The mute musician sat on the 
 ottoman where she had stood just now, her palms 
 pressed hard together in pain or vexation, her eyes on 
 the floor the picture of mutinous grief in reverie, he 
 was sure, for he-could see that she was alone. 
 
 " Not all the tears for to-morrow, I am afraid," said 
 the unseen spectator of the tableau, and went on his 
 way. " I am the richer by a picture for the delay, if 
 I did not learn my song." 
 
 Bertha did not weep. She had shed all her tears 
 during the war, she was wont to say. It was certain 
 she had learned rare lessons in that terrible discipline 
 of life. Crying would not renovate the tattered cush- 
 ions or recarpet the floor, or replenish the wine-vault, 
 any more than it would call back Maury and Kidder 
 from their bloody graves. Repining eased neither 
 the greater nor lighter burdens laid upon the reduced 
 family. There was no harm in wishing that she could 
 give Sterling a better dinner, and please his fastidious 
 eye in the matter of furniture, or offer him a ride be- 
 hind such horses as her father once kept. There was 
 folly in making of these inconveniences a sorrow. 
 
 " I thought the Temples had too much right pride 
 to know false shame ! " she railed at her passing weak-
 
 1 14 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 ness. " And that I had too much common sense to be 
 wasting time in useless regrets and unwarrantable fore- 
 bodings, when I have to go to market and then make 
 my custards and cake." 
 
 She went from the kitchen to the dining-room and 
 laid the table there before she dressed. The napery 
 was fine and white, and the necessary articles of silver- 
 ware bore the unmistakable stamp of aristocratic anti- 
 quity. But the old China and cut-glass being fragile, 
 were not a perfect set, and the additions made to it 
 were of vastly inferior quality. 
 
 " When I have put flowers on the napkins and a 
 bouquet in the center of the table where the t'pergne 
 ought to be, it will be passable," she reflected. " If I 
 had even small beer to pour into the wineglasses, I 
 would set them on. They give an air to a dinner 
 nothing else can. I am afraid my hankering after the 
 pomps and vanities is incurable." 
 
 And to show how sore was the craving she sang all 
 the way up-stairs 
 
 " Hear me, then, dearest, thy doubts gently chiding, 
 Know'st thou not true love is ever confiding ! 
 Why snatch from Cupid his bandage away ? 
 Love knows no morrow then kiss me to-day, 
 Tears for to-morrow, but kisses to-day ! " 
 
 Her sisters were in the dressing-room common to 
 the three. Mrs. Venable the elder was eating a light 
 luncheon before setting out upon her afternoon round 
 of music-lessons. Ellen was sewing. They exchanged 
 a meaning but affectionate smile, as the round, young 
 voice preceded the singer along the echoing hall, re- 
 bounding clearly from the uncarpeted stairs and floor.
 
 Wall-Flowers. \ 1 5 
 
 They were too lady-like to banter the happy girl, but 
 there was sympathy with her gladness in the tones 
 and glances that met her. 
 
 "What will you wear, dear?" queried Ellen, with 
 an admiring look at the wealth of wavy hair her sister 
 shook loose upon her shoulders. 
 
 " I mean to force the season slightly and adorn my- 
 self in spotless white," rejoined Bertha, striving vainly 
 to temper her sunshiny face into a pretence of sober- 
 ness befitting the occasion. " Fortunately, I had my 
 white brilliante done up last week, cest & dire, I 
 ironed it with my own fair hands. This summer glory 
 puts winter clothing to shame." 
 
 " I wish one of you girls would make over my gray 
 silk and wear it," said the youthful widow, with an 
 involuntary sigh. " I shall never want it again." 
 
 " Ellen must have it, then," said Bertha. " She looks 
 like one who was born to walk in silk attire. Wash 
 dresses suit my shepherdess style cambrics, lawns, 
 and the like cheap flimsiness." 
 
 " In that case put on my lawn, the one with the 
 black spots. It will set off your complexion better 
 than that opaque white," urged Ellen. 
 
 Bertha's wilful head was positive. " I'll be Bertha, 
 or I'll be nobody ! I am quite aware, my dear girls, 
 that I shall not be stylish possibly not handsome, in 
 my year-old brilliante, but it is mine, and on it goes ! " 
 
 She was Bertha, and nobody else, but she was hand- 
 some when she tripped down to the visitors at the 
 appointed time. She could not be coy and stiffly 
 proper when she had once heard Sterling ask if the 
 ladies were at home, but followed closely upon the
 
 ii6 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 heels of the servant who admitted them. She had 
 not seen him in three years. 
 
 Seen in the semi-obscurity of the shaded hall and 
 framed by the arched doorway, with her crown of 
 bright hair, a bunch of purple pansies nestling in it, a 
 cluster of wall-flowers and geranium-leaves in her 
 brooch, and the simple white dress bound at the waist 
 with a lilac ribbon ; with her smiling mouth and large, 
 eager eyes, she was a picture that seized the fancy of 
 one of the inmates of the parlor ; perhaps surprised 
 the other into a warmer greeting than expediency 
 would have dictated. 
 
 " Bertha ! " said the voice she remembered so truly, 
 the intonations malicious people deemed affectedly 
 languid which she thought peculiarly winning in 
 their quiet, gentle manliness ; and her hand lay in a 
 close pressure that could only mean fondness. " Al- 
 low me to present my uncle Mr. Dent." 
 
 The reminder of the presence of a third person was 
 not amiss, for there was mist in the wistful eyes, and 
 her lips could not frame the welcome her heart would 
 have given. In bowing to the uncle, her sight returned 
 and her hysterical tendency abated. This was not 
 the time or place for loverly reminiscences or raptures. 
 She must content herself with the consciousness that 
 he was here again and hers. It was Sterling the im- 
 passioned wooer of her girlhood, the beloved of these 
 long years of waiting who stood before her. That 
 is, those were Sterling's eyes and he spoke with Ster- 
 ling's voice. But the foreign cut of his beard, his 
 fashionable attire only one remove from dandyism in 
 such items as jewelled studs and the ring on his little
 
 Wall-Flowers. IT/ 
 
 finger, the patent-leather boots and exquisite cravat 
 the gravely courteous air with which he turned from 
 her to his companion, these were strange and puzzling. 
 Was it because he had been away so long, or were 
 they mannerisms engrafted upon the original stock 
 dainty exotics with which :he had nothing to do? 
 She was not chilled. That would have been childishly 
 unreasonable, since she had not expected a tender 
 greeting in the circumstances. But her face was less 
 sunny as she took her seat. It chanced to be nearer 
 the uncle than the nephew, and she was prompt in 
 accosting him to avoid a pause she knew would be 
 filled for her, with memories dangerous to composure. 
 
 " Have you ever been in our city before, Mr. 
 Dent?" 
 
 It was trite and flat, but she must say something, 
 and ideas did not rally readily. There was less risk 
 in meeting the stranger's eyes than those she fancied 
 were seeking to read hers. Very expressive eyes they 
 were which she met, and met full, with a sort of elec- 
 tric start as she spoke. Not remarkably fine in color 
 or shape, but honest and penetrating, and alive with 
 interest in herself she could not mistake, or interpret 
 to her satisfaction, unless Sterling had told him all 
 about her. She blushed at the thought, and, oddly 
 enough, a responsive tinge glowed in Mr. Dent's com- 
 plexion. 
 
 " Once many years since," he answered. 
 * " Before ' Ichabod ' was written upon our homes?" 
 she finished the sentence for him. Then, turning to 
 Sterling with a mournful smile, " You would hardly 
 have known it, would you ? "
 
 ii8 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! the general features of the place are the 
 same, although some of the ancient landmarks have 
 been somewhat unceremoniously removed. The con- 
 flagration was the parting feu de joie of my ancient 
 comrades, I have been told. A salute with which the 
 citizens could have dispensed." 
 
 He spoke with easy grace, but Bertha bit her lip at 
 the flippant reply. It is long after a wound has 
 skinned over before one can bear the touch of a care- 
 less hand. Did he know that he jested at her father's 
 ruin ? 
 
 Mr. Dent took up the word. " Fortunately, noth- 
 ing can mar the beauty of your natural situation. 
 Richmond must ever sit a queen while her hills stand 
 and the river flows at their base." 
 
 "Zenobia's robes need cleansing badly," laughed 
 Cabell. " I have been rubbing my eyes all the morn- 
 ing, and muttering the old couplet 
 
 " The streets are narrow and the buildings mean. 
 Did I, or Fancy, leave them broad and clean ? " 
 
 " We have passed through many and grievous storms 
 since you left us." The sensitive mouth quivered 
 until Mr. Dent, compassionately looked another way. 
 Then Bertha arose abruptly. " If you will excuse me, 
 I will tell my mother that you are here." 
 
 " As I feared, this is an awkward business," said the 
 younger man, sotto voce, and stifling a yawn. " And 
 if embarrassing to me, how much more it must be to 
 them this meeting in such altered: circumstances. 
 You cannot imagine what a fine old house this used 
 to be and how they lived. It gives me the blues to
 
 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 119 
 
 think of it. I almost wish I had spared them the 
 trial left town without calling." 
 
 This, lying lazily back on the sofa, where he used 
 to sit with Bertha in those other days. The uncle 
 tapped his boot thoughtfully with his cane and said 
 nothing. 
 
 " She is a pretty girl still, though, and she would be 
 stylish if she were fashionably dressed. Don't you 
 think so, sir ? " 
 
 "Yes ! " drily or indifferently. 
 
 Mrs. Temple's entrance ended the tete-a-tete. A 
 lovely old lady in mourning that would have been 
 shabby on nine women out of ten. If she had worn 
 linsey woolsey she would have dignified it into attire 
 becoming a gentlewoman. 
 
 " My dear Sterling ! " she said, affectionately. " We 
 are rejoiced to see you again after this long sad separa- 
 tion. And you are welcome, sir ! " putting her small 
 hand into Mr. Dent's. 
 
 He bent the lower over it, for feeling how toil- 
 hardened was the palm, for seeing the needle pricks 
 on the forefinger of the left. Bertha brought in Ellen 
 before their mother was seated, and the conversation 
 became general. There was a little clever manoeuvring 
 on the part of the parent and second daughter to seat 
 the whilome lovers together, but it was abetted by 
 neither of the interested parties, and failed ignomini- 
 ously. Bertha resumed her place near Mr. Dent and 
 began to talk not fast, but steadily only her restless 
 eyes and varying color testifying to excitement of any 
 description. In no wise discomfitted by the fact that 
 ^she did not cast a glance in his direction, Mr. Cabell
 
 I2O Wall-Flowers. 
 
 played the agreeable to the other ladies in the most 
 approved manner of the nil admirari school. 
 
 He was rather above the medium height, with trim 
 hands and feet; dark blue eyes, a straight, longish 
 nose, small mouth, and drooping moustache. His 
 whiskers were of the English mutton-leg pattern, and 
 his brown hair was parted down the back of his head. 
 His voice, a good tenor in singing, was somewhat 
 effeminate in conversation. "A love of a man!" 
 cried enthusiastic and musical misses. " His manners 
 are perfect ! " pronounced the mammas. And when 
 bigger men with bass voices hinted that he " did well 
 enough " physically and mentally " what there was 
 of him " rosy lips hissed, indignant orbs gray, black, 
 and blue flashed the traducers into silence. 
 
 Such as he was, he had been Bertha Temple's demi- 
 god for six years and the habit of worship was not to 
 be unlearned in an hour. If this had been possible 
 the sudden death of love would have been agony ex- 
 ceeding even that of the suffocating heartache she was 
 enduring without flinching from her attitude of civil 
 attention to her stranger guest. Ellen wondered 
 silently if her sister were really as much interested as 
 she seemed to be in what Sterling's uncle was saying, 
 and guessed, in her shrewd soul, that Bertha would 
 have lent less diligent heed had not her fellow collo- 
 quist been her lover's near relative. They did not 
 look at all alike. Mr. Dent was tall and dark, with 
 hazel eyes, a square chin, and a mouth that was very 
 grave and firm when at rest, very pleasant when he 
 smilqpl. His hair and whiskers had a few gray hairs 
 scattered through them, but he was very unlike
 
 Wall-Flowers. 121 
 
 Bertha's preconceived ideal of the bachelor guardian 
 of her errant knight. He talked well and with cour- 
 tesy as simple as his nephew's was elaborate. The 
 latter never forgot himself and the probable effect his 
 charms were producing. His elder seemed uncon- 
 scious that he had any especial claim upon the atten- 
 tion and regard of the ladies with whom he conversed. 
 Bertha did not make these observations in the course 
 of this visit. A galvanized manikin would have served 
 her purpose as well as he did. She must talk at some- 
 thing that could reply at decent intervals, steady her 
 gaze upon a human face instead of staring into 
 vacancy, lest lookers-on should suspect the rack upon 
 which she was stretched. 
 
 Her eyes darkened several times when Sterling's 
 well-modulated laugh reached her ears, and when, at 
 the end of three-quarters of an hour, he straightened 
 his graceful form to the full measure of his manly 
 stature, and reminded his senior, deferentially, as be- 
 came his youth and wardship, that they were to say 
 " farewell " to a party of fellow-tourists who expected 
 to take a Petersburg train at three o'clock, Bertha 
 turned majestically upon him, in rising with the rest, 
 and, for the first time in her life, looked down upon 
 him. Not that she was physically taller, but the calm 
 disdain of brow and lip, the superb hauteur of the 
 head and figure dwarfed him by comparison. He did 
 not feel it. The Colossus of Rhodes could not have 
 frowned him into a pigmy in his own estimation ; but 
 from their different points of view, the Temples 
 thought how insignificant he appeared, and Mr. Dent 
 said, within his heart, that this plainly-clad girl 
 6
 
 1 2 2 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 was an empress in her own right in beauty and breed- 
 ing. 
 
 " We had hoped you would dine with us," said Mrs. 
 Temple, who could not forget how she had loved the 
 boy who had been as free to come and go in her house 
 as her own sons. " We old-fashioned people are not 
 satisfied with these brief calls. Come back to us when 
 you have seen your friends off. Mr. Temple will be 
 bitterly disappointed if you do not. We dine at 
 four." 
 
 Bertha was silent, and her face a blank page. At 
 heart, she wished that all this was over. Having 
 learned from Mr. Dent that he and his nephew had 
 been two days in the city already, she could not be- 
 lieve that Sterling would be anxious to comply with 
 her mother's request. Two days, and this was his first 
 call! 
 
 " Mr. Dent shall decide ! " said Sterling, blandly. 
 " Do you think, sir, that the Edwardses will expect 
 to see us at the table d'hote as usual ? Would it be 
 quite polite to desert them after travelling with them 
 for so long ? And we have engaged a carriage for 
 Hollywood at five." 
 
 " You can be released at that time." Mrs. Temple 
 would not see Bertha's deprecatory gesture. " The 
 day of six and eight course dinners is among the 
 things that were with us. But we shall be delighted 
 if you will partake of our family fare." 
 
 " We accept your invitation gratefully, madam." 
 The frank phrase and clear voice were the uncle's. 
 " Provided unless it be ungracious to couple with a 
 proviso consent that brings us pleasure provided
 
 Wall-Flowers. \ 23 
 
 the young ladies will afterward accompany us in our 
 ride." 
 
 Before separating in the evening on their return 
 from the excursion to the cemetery other plans, rides, 
 and walks were proposed, most of them by Mr. Dent, 
 whose desire to know Richmond and its environs well 
 was explained by his nephew aside to Ellen Temple, 
 as they stood together on the highest hill of Hollywood 
 overlooking the river and town. 
 
 " My uncle has fallen in love with your city," he 
 said, patronizingly. " I am somewhat surprised at his 
 open admiration of climate and situation, for he has 
 been a great traveller. He is a wealthy banker, as you 
 doubtless know, and one of the objects of his visit 
 here is to invest in land in the surrounding country 
 and in city property, which, we hear, is very 
 low." 
 
 "So like a Yankee!" said quick-tempered Ellen, 
 that night, in repeating this to her eldest sister. " I 
 felt like telling him so, then and there. It sickens me 
 to see the swarm of tourists scrambling over and among 
 our ruins. One text is continually in my mind when 
 I notice how curious they are in prying into our pov- 
 erty and wretchedness : Nay, but to spy out the 
 nakedness of the land ye are come.' I could not help 
 repeating it to Sterling Cabell." 
 
 "What did he say?" Mrs. Venable smiled, evi- 
 dently pleased at the ready reply, whatever may have 
 been her opinion as to her sister's indiscretion. 
 
 " He only laughed in a quiet, gentlemanly way. I 
 believe he thought I was jesting. Bertha ! " 
 
 " Well ? " Bertha sat in the wide window-seat, her
 
 124 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 face toward the street, and answered without looking 
 around. 
 
 "Aren't you going to bed to-night?" 
 
 " It is too warm and close to sleep." 
 
 " What are you doing there?" 
 
 " Listening to the river and enjoying the fragrance 
 of the wall-flowers in the balcony," she returned, in 
 feigned lightness. 
 
 " 'Music, moonlight, love, and flowers,' " 
 
 hummed Ellen, as she brushed out her hair. 
 
 " Precisely!" with a short laugh. 
 
 The others were asleep before long, and she could 
 muse uninterrupted ; hear in the song of the river the 
 story of the days whose " tender grace " she had be- 
 lieved would be a joy forever ; think of him, whose 
 favorite flower she had cultivated during all these 
 years of hoping and waiting, He loved it, he said, 
 because it was like her, brave, sweet, and bright ; wear- 
 ing her fairest smile, shedding her choicest virtues in 
 her home. She had worn it to-day for that reason, 
 and no other. She had not put flowers in her hair and 
 dress before since her brothers died the noble bro- 
 thers whose names he had not mentioned close as 
 was the friendship between the three. And pansies, 
 because he used to declare that their purple velvet 
 was like her eyes when she was earnest in speech, or 
 deep in thought. How often she had pushed his hand 
 laughingly away when he held one of the richest and 
 darkest to her face, that he might see how nearly it 
 matched her irids ! He remembered nothing of this.
 
 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 125 
 
 They had met and looked in each other's faces, and 
 talked like mere acquaintances. The affection that had 
 leaped up, a laughing, eager fountain, to hail his com- 
 ing, had fallen back from a rock. 
 
 " And I did believe in him, as he bade me, did hope 
 to find him the same ! " moaned the unhappy child, 
 rocking herself back and forth like one in mortal pain. 
 " Oh, my lost faith ! my beautiful dead dream ! "
 
 PART II. 
 
 " THE Torreys are in Charleston, sir," remarked 
 Sterling Cabell to his uncle one morning as they ex- 
 amined their early mail together in the room of the 
 latter. 
 
 " Ah ! " interestedly. " They went by sea, I sup- 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, and had a delightful passaere. arriving 
 there last Wednesday." 
 
 " This is what ? Saturday, isn't it ? " 
 
 Cabell smiled. " It is. Your ten days in Richmond 
 have been as profitably as pleasantly spent, if Young 
 speaks truly respecting the note we take of time." 
 
 "The Torreys are well, I hope?" seeming not to 
 have heard his nephew's observation. 
 
 " Quite well, and anxious that we should join them 
 in Charleston or Mobile. The season is advancing so 
 rapidly they fear to protract their tour many more 
 days." 
 
 Mr. Dent did not reply. He was replenishing with 
 fresh water a wineglass on the mantel, which held a 
 spray of wall-flower and one of citron-aloes he had 
 begged from Bertha Temple the evening before. When 
 it was full he stopped to inhale the odor with marked 
 gratification. 
 
 " The combination of perfumes is singularly delight* 
 126
 
 Wall-Flowers. 127 
 
 ful," said he, musingly, rather to himself than his com- 
 panion. " Miss Ellen was explaining to me, last night, 
 the art of arranging bouquets with reference to fra- 
 grance, instead of color. Her sister is proficient in it, 
 she says. She divides perfumes into two classes the 
 active and passive. The wall-flower is a sample of the 
 last the citron-aloes of the more lively and spicy 
 kind. The idea was new and attractive to me." 
 
 A shade of vexation crossed Cabell's face. But he 
 held his tongue in with the bit of expediency and the 
 bridle of self-interest. His demeanor to the rich bach- 
 elor was a model to penniless and enterprising expec- 
 tants never sycophantic, yet never inconsiderately 
 frank. 
 
 " What answer had I better return ? " he ventured, 
 presently, after allowing a reasonable time for the in- 
 dulgence of his relative's floral enthusiasm. 
 
 " To the Torreys, do you mean ? " Mr. Dent set 
 dowTi the tiny vase, and awoke. " It would be pleas- 
 ant to continue our tour in company but I really do 
 not see how I can leave Richmond yet. I am in 
 treaty, through Mr. Temple, for that property on 
 Main Street, and I promised moreover to ride up to 
 Sydney, and out upon the Grove Road with him, 
 Monday, to 'prospect' a little. He thinks the city is 
 destined to grow fastest in that direction ; and, from 
 what I have seen, I am disposed to believe it. If I 
 had a hundred thousand dollars to invest in land to- 
 morrow, I could hardly do better than to lay it all 
 out here. The returns would not be immediate, but 
 they would be sure. The day is coming when this 
 will be one of the chief manufacturing cities in the
 
 128 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 Union. And as a place of residence its attractions 
 are not to be surpassed." 
 
 Sterling, bored and impatient, only dared express 
 his sensations by rustling the open letter which was 
 in a lady's hand. He had no objection to his uncle's 
 investing in anything that would pay well in a few 
 years, by the time he the heir apparent should 
 come to his own ; but he was not especially interested 
 in the details of these transactions ; had little taste for 
 business, although a partner in the firm of Dent & Co. 
 
 " I do not doubt the correctness of your views, sir," 
 he replied. " And Mr. Temple is a safe guide in such 
 speculations here. Shall I set the middle of the 
 week, then, as the time of our departure if the Tor- 
 reys can wait for us so long? Or, had we better 
 abandon the idea of reunion entirely? " 
 
 Something in the cadence of his inquiry caught 
 Mr. Dent's ear. He looked around quickly an ex- 
 pression of paternal kindness and lively sympathy in 
 eye and half-smile. 
 
 " Abandon it ? By no means, my boy ! I have 
 been se4fish in keeping you in close attendance until 
 now. If I have appeared to forget that others had 
 claims upon you, forgive me. I cannot travel again 
 immediately as you perceive. But I am comfortable 
 and content in this place. I have a capital hotel, and 
 acquaintances and biisiness to hinder the time from 
 hanging upon my hands. You must go on say by 
 Monday morning's train, and join our friends. I will 
 meet you when and where I can probably in New 
 Orleans. I have already seen njpst of the gulf cities. 
 They have not changed much siffce the war, I imagine. "
 
 Wall-Flowers. 129 
 
 Sterling demurred very handsomely, evincing just 
 enough pleasure at the proposal to confirm the other 
 in his resolution to carry it out. 
 
 " Give me credit for a moderate share of pene- 
 tration," he said, with the same kindly gleam of hu- 
 mor. " If I have not spoken to you openly of my 
 surmises, it has not been because I did not like the 
 signs of the times ; that I have not felicitated myself 
 sincerely upon the anticipation of having the fair 
 Imogen as a niece-in-law. I took it for granted that 
 I should be taken into your counsels when the right 
 time came." 
 
 "You are very good, sir." Sterling was pleased in 
 a rational way, but not fluttered to nervousness by 
 the discussion of the delicate topic. " I have not 
 told you, in so many words, what were my intentions 
 and my hopes, because I had not the lady's sanction 
 to such a procedure until this morning. This letter 
 the answer to one which met her in Charleston em- 
 powers me to announce our engagement to you and 
 bespeak a welcome for her." 
 
 " Engagement*! I was hardly prepared to hear that 
 everything was already settled. But I am heartily 
 glad ! " shaking his nephew by both hands. " You 
 are a wise man a very wise and happy man to marry 
 in your youth. Not that the heart must of necessity 
 grow old as the frost falls upon the hair, but think of 
 the fifteen or twenty years of bliss one loses by wait- 
 ing until he is my age before he has a home of his 
 own. The probability is then fearfully against his 
 ever having one." 
 
 "You speak as if you were a septuagenarian, in- 
 6*
 
 130 Wall- Flowers. 
 
 stead of being in the hey-day of health and life," said 
 the courtier. " Your heart is greener than mine, to- 
 day. If I were a woman, I would rather have the 
 love of mature years the esteem oLsound judgment 
 than the idle fancy of adolescence. The difference is 
 that between ripened and green fruit. The memory 
 of my boyish love sets my teeth on edge. I wonder, 
 sometimes, if the partner in the pretty folly feels as 
 heartily ashamed of it as I do ? " 
 
 He laughed the well-bred token of amusement 
 that always chilled Bertha with the idea that a cur- 
 rent of derision underran the ripple. 
 
 "You have arrived at years of discretion now, at any 
 rate have proved the soundness of your judgment by 
 deeds, not words," responded Mr. Dent. " But do not 
 despise your youth. Maturity may be green and vigor- 
 ous, but never dewy. Should I be disposed to marry, 
 I should not like to mate with a middle-aged spinster, 
 still less with a widow. And a young girl would pre- 
 fer a swain nearer twenty than forty." 
 
 " Cela dfyend" said Cabell flatteringly. " We young- 
 sters would fare badly were you to take the field against 
 us. Perhaps, if the truth were known, I am a debtor 
 to your forbearance. Imogen has a hearty and affec- 
 tionate appreciation of your merits." 
 
 This lightly, yet with no touch of irony. 
 
 " We visit the battle-grounds at the Chickahominy, 
 to-day," was Mr. Dent's next observation, after a survey 
 of his pocket-tablets. " Mrs. Venable takes Miss Ellen's 
 place. She cannot go conveniently on any day bu 
 Saturday, on account of her music scholars." 
 
 "Why not Bertha's place, instead of Ellen's?"
 
 Wall-Flowers. 131 
 
 interrogated Cabell, involuntarily, with a slight 
 frown. 
 
 "The arrangement is their own," stiffly. In a mo- 
 ment he added, as if ashamed of the trifling asperity, 
 " I gave the invitation to Miss Bertha for herself and 
 sister. She doubtless did not feel at liberty to transfer 
 it. We leave at ten. I am sorry this is the last excur- 
 sion you will make with us. The past week has been 
 a genuine holiday with me. I shall always be grateful 
 to you for introducing me to these your friends, and 
 now mine." 
 
 He hesitated, as if about to say more, but the action 
 was unnoticed by Cabell who had already commenced 
 a letter to his betrothed. 
 
 An elegant epistle it was gossipy, with a piquant 
 flavor of satirical mention of people and things ; a neat 
 phrase of affection dovetailed in here and there. It 
 commenced : " My dearest Imogen," and concluded 
 with, " Yours faithfully, Sterling Cabell." 
 
 At the same hour, Bertha was locked within her 
 chamber, bent upon a deed she had meditated from 
 the mid-April day that had opened all her wall-flowers 
 and brought the cards of uncle and nephew to her door. 
 A carved chest of dark wood lined with velvet the 
 legacy of an old relic-loving aunt was open upon 
 the floor, and beside it a heap of letters and notes, a 
 photograph of a beardless youth with a Byronic collar, 
 and of the same person fiercely moustachioed and wear- 
 ing the uniform of the C. S. A. both cartes, after the 
 manner of their kind, shot with yellow streaks, an in- 
 curable jaundice very unbecoming to the pictured face. 
 There were dried flowers in profusion ; one bouquet of
 
 132 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 wall-flowers and moss-rosebuds tied with white ribbon, 
 and another of pressed pansies glued upon a card with 
 an illuminated border ; a pearl and gold paper-cutter, 
 and divers books, chiefly poetry, with nameless trifles, 
 presented by Sterling the usual assortment to be 
 found in such collections. 
 
 " Of no value except to the owner." Often never 
 more valuable than when they- are packed away in 
 silence and tears to be returned to the giver. Bertha 
 bestowed upon her souvenirs no baptism of tears. 
 One by one they were laid in a wooden box, set side 
 by side with the ancient casket ; handled softly, some- 
 times lingeringly, as one lays his hand upon the mar- 
 ble brow of wife or child before the coffin-lid shuts 
 over it. Each had its label the date and place of 
 presentation written and affixed by herself. When- 
 ever it could be done without defacing the gift, this 
 was removed. Appeal to the past would avail noth- 
 ing. Had it been otherwise, she would have withheld 
 it all the same. It was useless to blow upon cold 
 ashes. 
 
 Very live coals had Sterling's flame been, if his 
 letters at that epoch were to be accepted as testimony 
 of his ardor. The fair Imogen would have thought 
 him demented had he indited such rhapsodies to her. 
 Bertha, when all was done, sat down by the packing- 
 case sarcophagus, if you will and, leaning her 
 elbow upon it, read over one and another of these 
 compositions. Words of endearment and vows of 
 eternal constancy were sown along the crowded pages 
 as thick as stars in the milky way. An unofficial 
 engagement, I called it, I believe, a little way back.
 
 Wall-Flowers. 133 
 
 That it was not formal, binding, irrevocable, was not 
 the gentleman's fault. That these indiscreet docu- 
 ments did not ruin his prospects with his uncle and 
 his bride-elect, he owed to the delicacy and true 
 womanliness of her he had deserted without a show 
 of courteous renunciation. He had counted upon 
 these ; for he estimated her pride aright, however he 
 may have misprized her love. Breach-of-promise 
 suits were unheard of in the class to which she be- 
 longed, and she had no brothers to take up her cause. 
 After all, the worst that could be said of him, if the 
 affair took wind, was that he had got over a boyish 
 fancy quietly and because quietly handsomely. 
 There had been no definite mention of marriage 
 between them, although of love-talk much. He was 
 hampered by no actual betrothment when he con- 
 sulted his inclination and interest, and addressed 
 Miss Torrey. She was an heiress in her own right, 
 an orphan resident with her married brother, but her 
 wealth was not her only recommendation to the fas- 
 tidious Southron's favor. Accomplished, sprightly 
 and fashionable, she was a notable figure in society. 
 The world had set its stamp of approval upon her, 
 decided that her husband would be a lucky fellow. 
 She reminded the thoughtful observer of the lady-bug 
 who sat in the roses' heart, and Sterling felt that the 
 perfumed silken retreat was the covert for which 
 Nature and habit designed him. He had no mis- 
 givings touching his future happiness, almost as few 
 conscience-pricks when he thought of Bertha and 
 the " pretty folly " of which he was now ashamed. 
 She was a sensible girl, he reasoned, and, reverting
 
 1 34 Wall-Floiuers. 
 
 to the figure of the rose-covert, a very ant in homely 
 industry and energy. Their paths had been separated 
 by Providence. He had been lifted up, she put down. 
 He was in no wise responsible for the revolution or 
 the consequent changes of feeling he had undergone. 
 For aught her conduct said to the contrary, she recog- 
 nized this truth with as little emotion as himself. She 
 must regret giving him up; any woman would. Still, 
 she could not have expected anything else. None of 
 the Temples had alluded, even remotely, to the early 
 affair. One and all treated him with simple cordiality 
 as the playfellow and comrade of the dead sons, and 
 extended true Virginia hospitality to his uncle. Their 
 visit was doubtless an agreeable variety in the hum- 
 drum tenor of their everyday life, and carriage-rides 
 were rare with them now. He had no earthly objec- 
 tion to seconding his uncle's benevolent scheme of 
 shedding all the light he could into the darkened home. 
 They must see for themselves the manifest inexpedi- 
 ency of any closer bond of union between him and one 
 of their fallen house. 
 
 The present, with its actualities bleak and harsh 
 was very far from Bertha's mind as she dreamed for 
 the last time over the faded papers taking them in 
 the order of their dates, beginning with the semi-gal- 
 lant, semi-loving epistle marked " University; " perus- 
 ing twice the first real love-letter, written after the 
 vacation during which they were so much together in 
 the country. That fairy summer, dyed in rainbow- 
 hues by the prism of memory, all sunshine, and fra- 
 grance, and song! The sweet hush of one sunset de- 
 scended about her now a circle of blessed calm
 
 Wall-Flowers. 135 
 
 shutting out all recollections of discord, of absence, 
 and of change. Again she stood on the bank of the 
 radiant river, plucking leaf after leaf from the bunch 
 of wild roses in her hand, and flinging them out upon 
 the water, hardly knowing that she did it, only alive 
 and what a life it was ! to the truth that she was 
 beloved, and hearing that this was so from his lips. 
 
 A knock at the door made her start. 
 
 "Bertha, what are you doing?" called Ellen. " It 
 is almost ten. The carriage will soon be here." 
 
 It arrived promptly at the appointed time, Mr. Dent 
 being a model of punctuality; but Bertha was ready, 
 looking cool and pretty in a white cambric with black 
 stripes, and a black straw hat, trimmed with white 
 ribbon and black lace. The cambric was a bargain 
 only twenty-five cents a yard and she had made it 
 herself, with a deep Spanish flounce and ruffled sleeves. 
 It fitted her well, and she wore it with an air that 
 gave it the effect of a six-dollar silk, at the least. Her 
 white shawl was also inexpensive, and she was her 
 own. milliner. Cabell was shrewd and observant enough 
 to detect some of these things, and to guess the rest. 
 His dainty taste shuddered at them all. Mr. Dent, 
 who had lived in the world thirteen or fourteen years 
 longer than he, only perceived that the girl was charm- 
 ing altogether, and that her spring-like raiment was 
 crisp and fresh beside Mrs. Venable's mourning weeds. 
 The excursion could not be a very merry one, since 
 each milestone had its story of conflict and bloodshed, 
 and the horrors of the Chickahominy Swamp were still 
 vivid in the visitors' minds. But the party was out- 
 wardly cheerful, Bertha and Sterling doing most of
 
 136 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 the talking. Her cheeks had a fever-flush, her eyes 
 were unnaturally bright, her enunciation more rapid, 
 her gesticulation more animated than usual. She was 
 lively, witty, slightly caustic at times, coming down 
 suddenly and severely upon certain of Sterling's affecta- 
 tions behavior that made him stare and the others 
 laugh. 
 
 Mrs. Venable took observations, and pondered them 
 when she reached home. Bertha was a mystery to 
 her family of late. She never seemed cast down, yet 
 that her relations with Sterling were utterly changed 
 was evident to all. She went singing about her work 
 as of yore, and entered readily into whatever interested 
 the others, apparently keeping nothing back from 
 them ; but no one, from her mother down, dared cate- 
 chise her as to her engagement and its dissolution. It 
 was a singular complication take it altogether her 
 reserve, Sterling's defection, and the constant inter- 
 course of the gentlemen with the various members of 
 the Temple household. Mr. Dent's unfeigned enjoy- 
 ment of the association was not accounted for to the 
 feminine portion of the family by his disposition to 
 purchase Virginia lands and Mr. Temple's abetment 
 of the project. His frequent visits and repeated invi- 
 tations to rides, walks, and places of public amusement 
 were courtesies offered to the ladies. His evident ap- 
 preciation- of their society was susceptible of two in- 
 terpretations. He was a man of gallantry, who could 
 not live out of sight of the other sex ; or he had some 
 cherished object in view, sought their favor for a spe- 
 cific purpose. Was it for his nephew's sake ? queried 
 Mrs. Venable. Hardly, or he would have vetoed the
 
 Wall-Flowers. 137 
 
 departure of which he had spoken that day. The 
 widow was not astute, but she understood intuitively 
 that Cabell's continuance of his tour, for pleasure 
 merely, settled the question of his intentions towards 
 Bertha. In leaving her thus he said emphatically that 
 he would seek her no more. The need for his going 
 seemed slight, as was that for the uncle's remaining in 
 a place where he had so few acquaintances and so little 
 to do. 
 
 A thought gleamed upon her, bold and striking. 
 She had groped her way to the light, she was sure of 
 it. Flushed by her discovery, and being, moreover, 
 prone to act upon impulse, she ran down stairs to 
 confide it to some one else. It was the habit of the 
 old people to sit at twilight in the library together 
 Mr. Temple with his pipe, his wife's hand on his 
 shoulder while they communed of days gone by and 
 reviewed aloud their plans for those to come. A 
 pleasant, lovely custom, so well understood in the 
 family that the children seldom intruded upon the 
 tete-h-tcte unless some matter of importance called 
 them thither. The tone of the conjugal dialogue was 
 pensive to melancholy to-night. The weight of many 
 losses and sorrow and the brooding dread of- a morrow 
 for which no store was laid aside pressed wearily upon 
 the pair. 
 
 " If our boys had lived my anxieties for their sisters 
 would have been slight," the father was saying, when 
 Mrs. Venable entered from the hall. 
 
 "Do you know," she cried, gayly, "that I have 
 found out something to-day or think I have that 
 will astonish you, if you have been as blind as I was
 
 138 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 until a few hours ago ? What would you say, father, 
 if Mr. Dent were to ask your permission to offer him- 
 self and his fortune to our Bertha ? " 
 
 " I say, now, that you are dreaming, child. You 
 are thinking of the nephew." 
 
 " That is all over. And very shabbily Sterling 
 Cabell has behaved. He is not the ninth part of the 
 man his uncle is. Call me a false prophetess if you 
 are not waited upon by the stately banker before 
 many days have passed. He is hopelessly captivated, 
 and what moles we have been 'not to see it before! 
 Bravo for little Bertha! He is a conquest to be 
 proud of." 
 
 " But his age ! " objected the mother. 
 
 "And Bertha would never marry a Northerner!" 
 interjected Mr. Temple. 
 
 " I am not sure of that. I had rather take a full- 
 blooded Yankee than a renegade Virginian, who ran 
 away to avoid fighting and holds himself above those 
 the war has reduced," retorted the daughter with 
 spirit. " As to age, he is forty-one, and he will be 
 young at sixty. This is all cntre nous, however. 
 Match-making is against our principles. I merely 
 throw out the hint for your consideration, that you 
 may not be unduly amazed when the declaration 
 arrives," and she laughingly withdrew. 
 
 "This is a queer story," commented Mr. Temple, 
 thoughtfully. " Yet if the child could bring herself to 
 marry this worthy gentleman for thorough gentle- 
 man he is I could die more peacefully, and you, my 
 love, would be comfortable for life." 
 
 " I would not bias her feelings or actions," said the
 
 Wall-Flowers. 139 
 
 mother tenderly. " If this be true, and not a fancy of 
 her sister's, Bertha must obey the dictates of her own 
 heart and judgment. I own I should be happier to 
 see her well married, if only for the assurance it would 
 give me that her heart is not broken by Sterling 
 Cabell's infidelity. I am sadly afraid that he has 
 treated her cruelly and heartlessly, brave and uncom- 
 plaining as she is." 
 
 The door leading into the parlors was open, and a 
 dim figure glided past it into the darkness. Bertha, 
 worn out with fatigue and heart-struggles and lulled 
 by the indistinct murmur of her parents' voices, had 
 fallen asleep upon the lounge in the back parlor, and 
 lay there unperceived until aroused by her sister's 
 louder and livelier tones. Mastering her indignant 
 impulse to show herself and refute the, to her, ridicu- 
 lous statement made by her senior, she was quiet until 
 the opinion of her father and mother had been given. 
 Then she fled to the sanctuary of her little chamber ; 
 sat down on the spot where she had, that day, coffined 
 the relics of her unhappy love, and buried her face in 
 her hands, dark though it was, in such a paroxysm of 
 horror, shame, and dread, as must effect an important 
 revolution in a girl's life and character. Mr. Dent was 
 in love with her, and her friends, parents, and sisters, 
 would have her jump into his arms, marry him Ster- 
 ling's uncle a man old enough to be her father ! 
 
 " Must I sell myself body and soul ? " Thus she 
 put the case. " Abridge the term of mourning for my 
 beautiful dead dream, and make ready for a loveless 
 bridal ? I would die first ! " 
 
 She was very angry with her sister, with Mr. Dent,
 
 140 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 with herself, m that she had permitted his attentions ; 
 with the whole world treacherous, crooked, and un- 
 feeling! But when her wrathful mortification had 
 spent its force in tears and ejaculations, her father's 
 words came back to her again and again. " I could 
 die more peaceably ; and you, my love, would be com- 
 fortable for life." The gray, worn father, so bowed 
 with years and care ; the meek mother, ever thought- 
 ful for the weal of those she loved. Was it true that 
 she their child, was the keeper of their happiness? 
 "Comfortable for the rest of your life!" That she 
 might enjoy her holiday with a clear conscience, Ber- 
 tha had arisen, that Saturday morning, at five o'clock 
 to sweep the house from top to bottom, and clean the 
 silver before breakfast. Mrs. Temple was already up, 
 and sewing in the room adjoining her chamber. She 
 could not sleep, she said, and it was tiresome lying in 
 bed awake and thinking. Her daughter remembered 
 it now, and wondered if this were a frequent occur- 
 rence ; thought, moreover, of the slender appetite, un- 
 tempted by fare that seemed coarse in comparison 
 with former daintiness and abundance ; of the pretty 
 feet and hands for which the beautiful matron was 
 noted in the days of carriages and best French kids ; 
 the feet now chilled by carpetless floors and damp 
 pavements ; the fingers roughened by labor ; the dear, 
 patient eyes, strained early and late over needlework 
 for which she was to be paid like any vulgar, illiterate 
 sewing-girl. 
 
 " Comfortable ! " That meant leisure and ease of 
 mind, along with physical rest ; relief from the petty 
 anxieties that swarmed about the poor lady like noisy
 
 Wall-Flowers. 141 
 
 and vicious mosquitoes. It would be worth something 
 the sight of her father, walking erect among trades- 
 people, giving orders as he once did, instead of count- 
 ing over his market money to see if he could afford 
 this or that formerly accounted one of the necessaries 
 of life. Mr. Dent was rich and liberal, and money 
 could accomplish so much ! He could devise ways 
 and means by which these objects could be attained 
 without sacrifice of Mr. Temple's self-respect. 
 
 " If he only had something to do by which he could 
 support mother and one of the girls, I would have the 
 other with me" She stopped, a burning heat rushing 
 to her temples. Was she then meditating this marriage 
 as a possibility? " I would die first ! " she reiterated, 
 passionately. 
 
 In five minutes more she was ringing the changes 
 anew upon her father's declaration and her mother's 
 gentle response. To please- them would involve no 
 sacrifice of happiness, she argued. Loss implied pre- 
 vious possession, whereas she was already a miserable 
 bankrupt. If she ever married it must be for money 
 or a home. She would never love again nevermore 
 trust in man's affection. Mr. Dent was a man of stanch 
 principle and kindly impulses. He would treat a wife 
 with generous consideration see that she wanted for 
 nothing wealth could buy. 
 
 " Is this tempter duty or the devil ? " she aroused her- 
 self to ask. " I cannot trust myself to think longer. 
 My wits are deserting me. It is more than likely that 
 the whole theory is groundless. I will believe nothing 
 resolve upon nothing until the need for decision is 
 forced upon me."
 
 142 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 But all night long the conflict ever beginning, never 
 settled, went on within her. She felt like an old woman 
 by the time the Sabbath chimes floated in at her open 
 window, with the scent of the flowers from the balcony 
 below. 
 
 Life was all out of joint that morning. Mr. Temple 
 was confined to his room with a headache, and needed 
 his wife's attendance. The only servant of the estab- 
 lishment was summoned, while building the kitchen 
 fire, to see a sick brother, and left the wood unkindled, 
 the dead ashes on the hearth. Ellen and Bertha made 
 ready the simple meal, washed the breakfast dishes ; 
 cleaned up dining-room and kitchen, Mrs. Venable 
 offering to prepare dinner while her sisters went to 
 church. 
 
 " It can't be said that we are devotional for the 
 purpose of showing our finery," remarked Ellen, 
 jocosely, as they donned their cheap cambrics the 
 only spring dresses they had been able to buy. 
 
 Bertha looked and felt indifferent as to the value or 
 becomingness of her costume. Sack-cloth, with a 
 liberal garnish of ashes, would have suited the inner 
 woman better than her smartly-made print. 
 
 " It is your turn to use the parasol," she said, as they 
 started down stairs. The three had but one between 
 them. Bertha had been the first to laugh at the law 
 of rotation in office which governed the useful imple- 
 ment, but she could not jest about it, or any other 
 " beggarly device " to-day. Each was a rivet in the 
 shackles she fancied were forming upon her free 
 agency. Her head ached and her eyes smarted. The 
 sun was hot, the streets dusty, and it was so near noon
 
 
 Wall-Flowers. 143 
 
 that there was next to no shade even upon the em- 
 bowered sidewalks for which Richmond is famous. 
 To crown her discontent, it was Easter Sunday, and 
 every woman in town who could bedeck herself in a 
 new hat and brave apparel, did so. They met nobody 
 who looked as plain as themselves ; and St. Paul's, in- 
 which Mr. Temple still continued to hold a pew, was 
 thronged with finely -feathered birds. Light silks, 
 summer poplins, aud other fashionable fabrics brushed 
 their cotton dresses in the vestibule and aisles, and 
 the heads of the congregation resembled a mammoth 
 parterre of newly-blown flowers tossing and quivering 
 in a light breeze. 
 
 Bertha heard neither Easter anthem, service, or 
 sermon ; hardly cast a glance at the floral decorations 
 of the sanctuary. Heaven was very far away the 
 Father of mercies deaf or insensible to her cry. She 
 had suffered until her sensibilities were benumbed so 
 she believed. She would not plead for a smoother 
 path than that where pebbles bruised and flints lace- 
 rated her unsteady feet. A plain one straight and 
 well-defined, so there could be no mistake as to the 
 route designed for her to tread, was all she asked of 
 Providence. She was tired trying to find a way for 
 herself. This was the prayer that arose in her heart 
 when priest and people bo^ed together in the final 
 act of worship. 
 
 " Give me a token that shall end this weary warfare ! 
 Show me what I ought to do a sign I may not mis- 
 take. Thou seest, Lord Thou alone, how heavy and 
 sharp is my cross. I would do right. Help me ! Point 
 out the way, and I will walk in it."
 
 144 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 Arising from her knees, pale, and faint of heart, she 
 met Mr. Dent's eyes. He had sat in the pew directly 
 behind her, and stood in the aisle quietly awaiting her 
 pleasure, his head slightly bent, his features reverent. 
 
 " A thorough gentleman ! " The thought leaped 
 into her mind, almost escaped her tongue as she 
 bowed silently in acknowledgment of his respectful 
 salutation. Ellen had slipped away and was chatting 
 with a lady, half way to the door. Bertha walked, 
 still without speaking, by Mr. Dent's side down the 
 long church, her heart beating fast and loudly. Was 
 this the sign for which she had prayed ? Was it in 
 faith or superstition that she was inclined to accept it? 
 The air without was like a furnace after the cool shad- 
 ows within doors, and struck upon them like blinding 
 steam as they cleared the vestibule. Mr. Dent cast 
 a furtive look at his companion's empty hands, and 
 raised a small sun-umbrella he had brought. The 
 shield was pleasant, as was the reflection that, well- 
 dressed and distingut! as he was, he did not hesitate to 
 single her out as the object of his regard in all that 
 gay assemblage. It was a little thing to be grateful 
 for, but she was so cast down in spirit that the touch 
 of balm soothed her hurt in some degree. The torn 
 tendrils could not learn to climb again, but it was a 
 welcome boon the shade in which they might lie 
 while they bled away their life. There was a sense of 
 protection and comfort in his society, in the notice 
 he paid her whom the lover of her youth had dis- 
 carded. 
 
 " Sterling complained that the unseasonable heat 
 rendered him undevout," Mr. Dent said, as they
 
 Wall-Flowers. 145 
 
 strolled up the street. " I suspect the irreverent ex- 
 cuse was the cover for a morning of letter-writing, al- 
 though he will reach Charleston almost as soon as his 
 epistle. Has he told you of his engagement ? " 
 
 The pavement was scorching, and seemed to radiate 
 living sparks into Bertha's eyes. 
 
 " No ! " Her voice sounded oddly to herself through 
 the rush and roar that oppressed her ears, but Mr. 
 Dent observed nothing uncommon in the intonation. 
 
 " Ah ! I supposed he had, since you are such old 
 and intimate acquaintances. But he had not the lady's 
 permission to announce the betrothal until yesterday 
 morning. She is Miss Imogen Torrey, the sister of 
 a particular friend of mine a charming woman, and 
 very popular with her associates ; fine-looking, rather 
 than regularly handsome ; intelligent and refined, and 
 in manner peculiarly fascinating. I wish you knew 
 her, and hope you may meet, some day. You would 
 harmonize delightfully, I think. The boy could not 
 have made a more judicious selection. He is of the 
 same opinion, judging from the complacency with 
 which he regards his prospects. Miss Torrey is trav- 
 elling with her brother's family, at present. It is to 
 join them that Sterling goes to Charleston before I am 
 ready to accompany him." 
 
 Bertha's answer was not very prompt. Her head 
 was bowed, and her hat-brim hid her face. She laughed 
 in looking up. 
 
 " I cannot tell you how queer it seems to us your 
 
 Northern fashion of publishing engagements. Here, 
 
 they are only guessed at and whispered about outside of 
 
 the lady's family. The gentleman's nearest relatives are 
 
 7
 
 146 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 often kept in ignorance of the true state of affairs until 
 the wedding-day is set. The custom has its manifest 
 advantages. Perhaps not the least is the facility it 
 affords for the exercise of masculine fickleness and fem- 
 inine coquetry. I am glad to hear that your nephew's 
 chances for happiness are so fair. I suppose it will 
 be selon les regies for us to offer our congratula- 
 tions?" 
 
 " He will be gratified, I am sure, to know that his 
 old friends are interested in his welfare, and that he 
 carries their good wishes with him into his new life," 
 replied Mr. Dent, somewhat gravely. 
 
 He could not be displeased with her, but he was 
 disappointed that she treated his communication with 
 such levity. Betrothal and wedlock were to him 
 such holy and solemn things that the tone in which 
 they were usually named offended his taste. He had 
 thought her feelings too fine, her sense of fitness too 
 just, to allow her to fall into this reprehensible fash- 
 ion. 
 
 " He knows nothing ! " Bertha was thinking, with a 
 swelling heart. " And this, although they were trav- 
 elling together when those two foreign letters were 
 written to me ! Was the whole thing a farce from 
 the beginning the diversion of a heartless man, in- 
 stead of, as I excused his faithlessness by imagining, 
 the evanescent passion of a boy who did not know 
 himself or the world ? Was he trifling with me all 
 the while ?" 
 
 Both gentlemen called on the Temples that even- 
 ing. Mrs. Temple and her three daughters were in 
 the room, and the conversation was lively and gen-
 
 Wall-Flowers. 147 
 
 eral, until, at Mr. Dent's request, Mrs. Venable went 
 to the piano. Ellen's voice was a contralto, and, like 
 her sister, she was extremely fond of sacred music. 
 Mr. Dent was an admirable basso. Singing was his 
 one accomplishment, but he rarely exhibited it, ex- 
 cept in glees and choruses. Sterling's knowledge of 
 music was superficial, as was his acquaintance with 
 most of the arts and sciences. But he had a tolerable 
 ear and could supply a showy tenor to any air with 
 which he was familiar. He took a prominent part in 
 the proceedings at the instrument ; selecting music, 
 expressing his views of this and that piece and com- 
 poser, and carrying on his vocalization in the favorite 
 style of operatic tenores his chin well up, and eyes 
 elevated at the same angle. Mr. Dent stood by, 
 quiet and self-possessed, seldom speaking unless ap- 
 pealed to by the ladies, and singing, when his turn 
 came, with precision of time and purity of tone that 
 elicited the respect with the applause of his au- 
 dience. 
 
 Bertha was " not in a singing-humor to-night," and, 
 when her mother stole away to her husband's sick- 
 room, the girl found the contrast forced upon her 
 contemplation strangely painful and mortifying. She 
 was resigned to the burial of her idol. She shrank 
 from seeing it crumble into despicable dust. Sterling 
 turned from the piano by and by. The others had 
 begun to try new anthems and make daring dips into 
 oratorios, and these irregularities barred the door of 
 distinction to him. He supposed that the listeners 
 had wearied, with himself, of the skirmishing into un- 
 tried regions, for their chairs were vacant. Catching
 
 148 Wall-Floivers. 
 
 sight of Bertha's light dress upon the balcony, he 
 joined her there. The street lamp at the corner 
 showed him her face distinctly, her eyes dark and 
 haughty with their expression of surprised inquiry, 
 and the recollection overtook him with disagreeable 
 force that they had not been together without the 
 restraint of a third person since their parting three 
 years ago. 
 
 " It is warm in-doors," remarked Bertha, seeing him 
 at a loss what to say, " and the music sounds well 
 here. But you should not have left your post. A 
 quartette is indispensable in sacred music." 
 
 " I wanted to speak to you." 
 
 He touched the hand that lay upon the iron rail. 
 It was instantly removed, not petulantly, but with a 
 composed assumption that the contact was accidental 
 that made his task yet more difficult. 
 
 " I found a box awaiting me at my room last night 
 when I returned from our ride," he resumed. " I 
 have sought this interview to explain why I have 
 nothing to send in return. Before I left Virginia, at 
 the beginning of the third year of the war, I destroyed 
 such personal effects as I could not conveniently take 
 with me. Many of them were of great value to me, 
 but I would not risk their falling into other hands 
 than mine. Your letters and several of the few keep- 
 sakes I had received from you were of this number. 
 I took with me into exile your photograph, ring, and 
 a watch-chain made of your hair. The picture faded 
 into a hideous caricature I could not bear to look at. 
 The ring I lost while bathing in the Dead Sea. I 
 wore the chain until it was frayed out. These are
 
 Wall-Flowers. 149 
 
 the few and simple reasons why I stand before you 
 now empty-handed." 
 
 He tried to laugh, but the effort was a melancholy 
 failure. 
 
 The corners of Bertha's mouth broke into a smile 
 that was very like genuine amusement, unmingled 
 with chagrin or wounded feeling. A bystander might 
 have thought that she enjoyed the situation and her 
 obvious advantage. 
 
 " The inventory is circumstantial and quite satis- 
 factory," she said, her dimples deepening and broad- 
 ening. "But apologies are superfluous. I know that 
 change is an immutable law of Nature and mankind. 
 That sounds paradoxical, but it is true. Even val- 
 uables will get lost in Dead Seas of forgetfulness, be 
 worn out and cast aside as worthless, and prettier 
 things than girls' photographs fade into homeliness. 
 You need not have taken the trouble to explain ; I 
 understood it all before." 
 
 She moved to go in, but he detained her. 
 
 " We are friends still, Bertha ? " 
 
 " Why not ? As the world rates friendship yes. 
 And the world is wiser than are boys and girls who 
 play at love-making they are ashamed to recollect in 
 the course of a twelve-month or so. We wish one 
 another all the felicity compatible with human imper- 
 fection and the laws of which we spoke just now. 
 Each is entirely willing that the other shall enjoy life 
 in his or her chosen way. And that reminds me of 
 an omission for which you must pardon me, although 
 it was not until this morning that I had a definite as- 
 surance that you were engaged to be married."
 
 150 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 She said it out in the plainest terms, gazing directly 
 and without embarrassment at him. It was his look 
 that fell, his hand that played nervously with the 
 odorous shrubs. 
 
 "Accept my sincere congratulations. That your 
 uncle thinks well of the object of your choice is a 
 guarantee of her excellence. He considers the alli- 
 ance suitable in every respect, and I have confidence 
 in his judgment and taste." 
 
 The clear, even voice, fuller and yet more melodious 
 than of old ; the plaintive music within, a soprano 
 solo of wondrous pathos ; the stars in the soft South- 
 ern heavens, and the remembered perfume of the 
 flowers together touched a chord long rusted by the 
 damp of selfishness, clogged by the dust of worldly 
 policy. For that one instant the love of his boyhood 
 was more real than the " suitable " attachment of his 
 wiser years. He threw out his arm in an uncon- 
 trollable gesture of deprecation. 
 
 " Don't leave me in this way, Bertha. Have you 
 forgotten, utterly abjured the past which we enjoyed 
 together ? We were happy then, were we not ? The 
 light of other days was sweet and dear. The remem- 
 brance of it is forever sacred to me. It is no disloy- 
 alty to my betrothed to wish, as I do sometimes, 
 that I had lived in it always. You despise me, I 
 know, consider me unstable and mercenary, but if 
 you could understand the influences which have been 
 brought to bear" 
 
 " Explanations are disagreeable and inconvenient 
 things, even where there is need for them," interposed 
 Bertha, still clearly and without falter. " In this
 
 Wall-Flowers. 151 
 
 case, as I have said, they are altogether unnecessary. 
 Facts speak for themselves. I understand your posi- 
 tion, and have no accusations to bring. Therefore 
 you are not called upon to defend yourself. As for 
 the past, I have only to thank you for making it so 
 easy for me to forget it."
 
 PART III. 
 
 MID-APRIL again, and the air of the beautiful 
 Southern city palpitated with moonlight and fra- 
 grance. The stately horse-chestnuts, popular in the 
 patrician purlieus wherein resided the Temples, were 
 forward with their cones of white bloom, and a 'lively 
 imagination might descry visible clouds of perfume 
 arising from the pearly censers. The sidewalks were 
 peopled with strollers youths emancipated from the 
 active duties of business, tasting the delicious mo- 
 ments with the zestful delight man can never know 
 after five-and-twenty ; happy girls in early spring at- 
 tire, with uncovered heads, leaning on the arms of 
 their attendant swains ; with here and there a graver 
 wedded pair reminiscent of their own days of wooing. 
 The Richmond Eros greatly affects al fresco declara- 
 tions, and makes a specialty of moonlight rambles. In 
 no other place of the same size on this continent 
 certainly in no more Northern town are more vows 
 of eternal constancy exchanged under the opened 
 heavens. Every one of the embowered streets of her 
 seven hills is a lover's walk, and the time-honored cus- 
 tom of putting these to their proper use is one in 
 which there are no signs of degeneration. 
 
 The Temple mansion had undergone many changes, 
 manifest even in the mellow moonlight, during the two 
 152
 
 Wall-Flowers. 153 
 
 years that had elapsed since Robert Dent halted be- 
 fore it on that smiling April morning to hearken to 
 the carol within : " Tears for to-morrow, but kisses to- 
 day." The songstress had been his wife for eighteen 
 months, but he had not gloried in her upon their 
 bridal day as he did this evening. She was receiving 
 an informal party of friends who had flocked to her 
 father's house to welcome her home from the foreign 
 tour Mr. Dent weary of wandering, and longing for 
 home and quiet had yet planned in consonance with 
 what he divined were her tastes and desires. 
 
 They had landed in America barely a week ago, 
 and had not unpacked a single trunk in New York. 
 Bertha was anxious to see her parents and sisters, and 
 the year-and-a-half-old bridegroom only waited to 
 know her wishes to execute them. He was repaid, 
 if the indulgence of this one had caused him inconve- 
 nience, by the sight of the lively pleasure the reunion 
 brought to each member of the family. And, as of 
 yore, the light and life of the house was Bertha. One, 
 at least, of the dreams which had wrought upon her to 
 accept Mr. Dent's suit was fulfilled. Her father, as 
 her husband's agent in the supervision of the invest- 
 ments the latter had made in Richmond, was in receipt 
 of a generous salary. The repairs of the homestead 
 were a Christmas present to the family the year of 
 Bertha's marriage. Mrs. Venable no longer gave 
 music lessons, and Ellen was on the eve of marriage 
 with a thriving young merchant of Baltimore. Mrs. 
 Temple's hands were again fair and smooth, and upon 
 her dear old cheek bloomed the late blush roses 
 which are the more lovely because so rare. She was 
 7*
 
 154 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 a happy queen-mother to-night, sitting in an antique 
 arm-chair, erect and alert, catching the meaning of 
 every bon mot, appreciative of every graceful move- 
 ment of her youngest daughter. They might well 
 one and all worship her, for she had rescued them 
 from abject poverty ; proved herself in prosperity as 
 open-handed and affectionate as when she had given 
 her all of time and labor to lessen family expenses 
 and increase the slender stock in the common purse. 
 Her abundance was a very cornucopia to her kindred. 
 It was a luxury to be rich in these circumstances, and 
 her manner to her husband conveyed her recognition 
 of the fact that he was the author of the great good. 
 Dutiful, sweet-tempered, and cheerful she was al- 
 ways ; but there was a deeper he imagined, a tenderer 
 meaning now-a-days in eye and voice when he drew 
 near, and she called him by his Christian name habit- 
 ually in the freedom and familiarity of her early home. 
 He hardly dared hope for her love when he sought 
 her hand ; had sued, with trembling earnestness, so 
 foreign to boyish presumption as to be in itself a 
 charm, for the opportunity to win affection by affec- 
 tion. She had not said that she loved him while they 
 were betrothed, only that she liked and esteemed him 
 beyond any other man of her acquaintance, and that 
 she was entangled by no other attachment. He was 
 very determined in his quiet way, and he resolved to 
 stand in the highest niche in the temple he deemed so 
 beautiful and holy a true woman's heart. He was 
 patient, too, and he had never endangered final success 
 by importunity or exaction ; never forgotten that he 
 was her senior by sixteen years, and could not woo
 
 
 Wall-Flowers. 155 
 
 with the impetuosity that is not unseemly in ardent 
 youth. If he could gain her gratitude by benefits to 
 those she loved, could by attentions timely and assid- 
 uous make himself necessary to her happiness, the 
 rest would follow. The boon he craved must be won 
 step by step, and was it not richly worth all it would 
 cost? 
 
 He thought this over clearly and methodically, as 
 it was his wont to treat subjects of importance, while 
 moving about among his wife's guests, adapting him- 
 self with tactful readiness to the tone and character 
 of each an agreeable, handsome gentleman decided 
 the ladies, young and elderly. It was less surprising, 
 now that they knew him better, that Bertha should 
 have brought herself to the point of marrying him and 
 that the Temples seemed so pleased with the match. 
 She certainly (this same " certainly " drops from the 
 tongues of the fast youths of Richmond with every 
 other sentence, at least) she certainly looked well and 
 happy, and what woman of sense would not be sus- 
 ceptible to the influence of such toilets as that she had 
 sported yesterday afternoon (they called it "evening ") 
 in her promenade with Mr. Dent on Franklin Street, 
 and that she wore to-night ? Neither was startling. 
 Bertha's taste was always correct ; but her dresses 
 were rich in material, and in trimming and fashion 
 heavenly and Parisian, very enchanting and very inde- 
 finable. She was not a bit spoiled by her good for- 
 tune. This was also voted with silent unanimity. 
 Her manners were as fresh and frank as ever. She 
 talked as Bertha Temple used to chat to her coterie 
 of school-fellows, without affectation or hauteur ;
 
 1 56 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 asked after each of her old cronies, and entered 
 heartily into everything that had happened during 
 her absence. 
 
 " Do you ever sing English ballads now ? " inquired 
 Doctor Maxwell, a gentleman with white cravat and 
 ruffled shirt-front Bertha's god-father and a fine 
 specimen of the gallant sexagenarian, the school 
 which is passing but too rapidly away. " Or am I a 
 barbarian to ask the question of one who is, no doubt, 
 mistress of the operatic style ? Your sisters have told 
 me how much attention you paid to music abroad." 
 
 " But not to the exclusion of ballads in my native 
 tongue," replied Bertha, brightly. " Had it been 
 possible for me td 1 forget or neglect my early love, Mr. 
 Dent would not have suffered it. His fondness for 
 simple minstrelsy rivals yours, doctor." She smiled 
 up at her husband, who was within hearing. " He 
 used to make me sing for him in the purple Roman 
 twilights Mrs. Hemans' version of: 
 
 ' Roma ! Roma ! Roma ! 
 Non e' piu come era prima ! ' 
 
 We trolled the ' Flower o' Dumblane' in the shadow 
 of Ben Lomond, and ' Annie Laurie' in sight of Sevas- 
 topol, in memory of the brave fellows who chanted 
 it every night in the trenches before that stronghold. 
 You recollect it, don't you ? And how delightfully 
 Bayard Taylor has told the story : 
 
 ' Each heart recalled a different name, 
 But all sang Annie Laurie ? ' " 
 
 "And when did you recall my favorite? By the
 
 Wall-Flowers. 157 
 
 way, I have not heard it since you were married. The 
 young ladies of this day know nothing about it they 
 tell me, with a curl of their pretty lips." 
 
 "'Auld Robin Gray?' Isn't it a singular coinci- 
 dence that you were the last person for whom I sang 
 it?" said Bertha, perfectly unembarrassed. 
 
 Perhaps she did not detect a glance, furtive but 
 polite, exchanged by several persons near. Mr. Dent 
 was too intent upon her motions and words to ob- 
 serve it. 
 
 The doctor looked disappointed. " And I was about 
 to beg you to sing it. You have forgotten it, then ? " 
 
 " I never forget old friends." 
 
 She arose, put her hand into his arm, and moved 
 toward the piano, most of the little company follow- 
 ing. She was " Bertha and nobody else " still. Mr. 
 Dent smiled in recollecting the phrase which Ellen 
 had repeated to him in describing the scene that pre- 
 ceded their earliest meeting. Nobody else could 
 equal her in grace, beauty, sprightliness in all that 
 was noble and comely. 
 
 An impulse people would call sentimental overtook 
 him. He would listen to her singing aud watch her 
 from without, from the balcony filled in her honor 
 with wall-flowers and other of her pet plants. This 
 was rather a habit of his to retire to some secluded 
 nook, whence he could feast his eyes without risk of 
 curious or sarcastic scrutiny. He knew that gray- 
 haired men with beautiful young wives are considered 
 fair game, and he would not make his darling ridicu- 
 lous, or himself if he could help it. Seizing the oppor- 
 tunity, when the attention of all was drawn to the
 
 158 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 pianist, he passed through one of the long windows, 
 and took his stand in the far corner of the balcony, now 
 transformed into a veranda by the edition of a Chinese 
 roof and light iron pillars. The shadow of the horse- 
 chestnuts lay dense across the floor, the flower-breath 
 was intoxicatingly sweet, and Bertha sang: 
 
 "Never till now had it been given 
 To lips of any mortal woman 
 To utter notes so fresh from heaven." 
 
 The quotation was in his mind, when a couple strayed 
 from the group at the piano and sauntered to the 
 front window. They were Louise Morton, a near 
 neighbor of the Temples, and Boiling Cabell, a cousin 
 on the father's side, of Mr. Dent's nephew. The lady 
 sank with an exclamation of pleasure into the loung- 
 ing-chair her cavalier rolled to the threshold for her. 
 
 " How deliciously cool and fragrant it is here ! " 
 putting out her hand to pluck a geranium-leaf. " And 
 isn't it too romantic and nice to sit in the moonlight 
 and listen to Bertha's music?" 
 
 " She sings as delightfully as ever," remarked the 
 impolitic gentleman. " And how handsome she has 
 grown. I never saw a more queenly yet more fasci- 
 nating woman." 
 
 " Pity a few more of us couldn't marry rich and 
 elderly Yankees ! " retorted Louise. " She has turned 
 all the gentlemen's heads. I should think her nominal 
 lord and master would be jealous." 
 
 " Jealousy is not a masculine foible," was the mis- 
 chievous rejoinder. " And, so far as I can judge, she 
 is very much attached to him quite devoted, in fact."
 
 Wall-Flowers. 1 59 
 
 " Perhaps ! " a shrug and pout. " Hardly as devoted 
 as she was to your Cousin Sterling in the ante bellum 
 days however. By the way, what broke that off? 
 Ellen told me they were certainly engaged all during 
 the war." 
 
 " Hark! She will answer your question herself." 
 
 Bertha was singing- 
 
 " Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride, 
 But, saving a crown, he had naething else beside." 
 
 Mr. Dent in the covert he dared not leave, and the 
 critics in the open window heard the verse through. 
 
 Then Louise laughed low and scornfully. " You 
 acknowledge it, then? Yet you admire her hold 
 her up as a model to other penniless maidens ? " 
 
 " Et poiirquoi non ? " Sterling's cousin resembled 
 him strongly and not pleasantly as he said it. " ' The 
 greatest good to the greatest number, isn't a bad 
 motto. Sterling alluded to the affair when he was 
 here, year before last. He couldn't afford to marry a 
 girl without money, especially where there was a 
 chance that he would have to support her parents also. 
 He had next to nothing himself and very expensive 
 tastes. I don't believe he ever dreamed that his uncle 
 whose heir he hoped to become would throw himself 
 into the breach but so it was. He was rich enough 
 to indulge in luxuries. And he has certainly done 
 the handsome thing by the Temples." 
 
 " It was a heartless transaction all around ! " ejacu- 
 lated L^ise, fanning herself energetically. 
 
 " I rrr%ht echo your ' perhaps ' in reply. It is rea- 
 sonable to suppose that Mr. Dent knew he was the
 
 160 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 second best choice, and was not so vain as to fancy 
 that his beauty married him through love pur et simple. 
 He has too much sense for that." 
 
 The song was over, and Mr. Dent, finding his situa- 
 tion painfully awkward, was vibrating between the 
 alternative of scaling the railing and escaping into 
 the yard, and presenting himself boldly before the 
 gossips, when Louise fluttered off, like a butterfly, to 
 examine a folio of photographs upon the centre-table. 
 Her escort went in pursuit, and the imprisoned eaves- 
 dropper emerged unseen from his bower. 
 
 Not to hide, like other stricken things, alike from 
 the view of friend and foe. He had the presence of 
 mind to see that he had made a mistake in leaving 
 the room while " Auld Robin Gray" was sung. He' 
 doubted not that the majority of the guests had ap- 
 plied the ballad after Mr. Cabell's style, and he had 
 given color to the impression by seeming to shirk ob- 
 servation. Unconsciously, Bertha abetted his resolu- 
 tion to deport himself with gay unconcern. 
 
 " I was just wishing for you," she said, looking over 
 her shoulder, and espying him as she finished the 
 doctor's second song. " Doctor, help persuade him to 
 give us ' There is a song of the olden time.' " 
 
 " You need no other help than my cordial desire to 
 please your friend," was the reply. 
 
 Did some alloy of ambition to prove that he had 
 recommendations to an attractive girl's favor besides 
 wealth and social position mingle with his readiness 
 to oblige her? He was usually averse to^hatever 
 savored of display. Modest in his estimaW of his 
 abilities and with a hearty appreciation of real excel-
 
 Wall-Flowers. 161 
 
 lence in musical, literary, or social talent, he, at all 
 times, preferred that others should exhibit while he 
 admired. To-night he took the initiative ; sang sev- 
 eral times with his wife, then a solo to her accompani- 
 ment, and finally, at her request, sat down to the in- 
 strument and treated the company to a German ballad 
 a masterpiece of pathos and passion, given in a style 
 that elicited rapturous applause. 
 
 " I wonder at you no longer," said a vivacious belle 
 aside to Bertha, real tear-drops beading her eye-lashes. 
 " If he wooed you in such music as that, you could not 
 have resisted had you wished to do so." 
 
 As the musician's ringers lingered upon the final 
 chord, he looked up, not expecting to see his wife- 
 and met her gaze bent earnestly upon him. She 
 leaned upon the end of the piano, her lips apart with 
 delighted interest, her eyes beaming and dewy. But 
 for the revelation of the last hour, he would have 
 drawn dearest encouragements from the regards that 
 sank bashfully under his, from the vivid blush with 
 which she turned away. As it was, he strangled new- 
 born hope with one fierce wrench, arose, outwardly 
 placid and smiling, to receive the compliments which 
 were showered upon him. 
 
 " I was so proud of you to-night," said Bertha, when 
 they were in their room together, after the guests' de- 
 parture. 
 
 Her husband stood by the window, looking out into 
 the night, and, as she joined him, the scent of the wall- 
 flowers rame up in slow waves, like the creeping tide 
 of memory in a still hour. 
 
 " So proud and happy," she repeated, linking her
 
 1 62 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 arm in his. " How can I thank you for the pains you 
 have taken to entertain my friends? I 'suppose it is 
 weak and foolish in me when I know so well for my- 
 self what you are, but I was anxious to have others 
 learn something of this also. I could hardly command 
 myself into a decorous show of modest gratification as 
 I listened to the handsome things that were said about 
 you of your singing, conversation, deportment, etc." 
 laughing. " Even Louise Morton called you a Bay- 
 ard. Entre nous, she hasn't an idea whether Bayard 
 was a. Frank or a Greek, but she meant to be very 
 complimentary." 
 
 " I am glad you were gratified." He did not intend 
 to be reserved, still less to repel her, but his heart was 
 aching sore with its green wound, and at her clinging 
 touch, her kindly, almost loving words, a mocking 
 strain seemed to float through the summer air : 
 
 " But I do my best a gude wife to be, 
 For Auld Robin Gray is a kind man to me." 
 
 Bertha glanced up quickly. " You are very tired, 
 are you not ? I am too apt to forget that this sort of 
 thing the constant excitement of calls and evening 
 gatherings cannot be so pleasing to you as to me 
 that my acquaintances are, most of them, strangers to 
 you. We shall be more quiet after this week, I hope." 
 
 " Not on my account. The weight of years does not 
 incapacitate me from the enjoyment of agreeable 
 society. Nor am I at all weary. On the contrary, I 
 was just thinking that I would take a walk toward the 
 river with my cigar the night is so tempting. Don't 
 sit up for me."
 
 Wall-Flowers. 163 
 
 He avoided the wondering reproach of her eyes; 
 waited for no more apologies or expostulations. His 
 mood was unjust, and being a middle-aged instead of 
 a young man, he had the candor to acknowledge this 
 to himself, and break off abruptly an interview that 
 threatened to become agitating. That he had failed 
 to teach her to love him, was, in the opinion of this 
 staid and upright gentleman, no sufficient reason why 
 he should tempt her to dislike him. 
 
 This was the first shadow of the cloud that gradu- 
 ally crept between two who, up to that date, had been 
 sincere friends, if they were not lovers. On one side 
 it was the darkness of pride and indignant amaze- 
 ment ; on the other, of wounded affection and disap- 
 pointment none the less scathing that it had fallen 
 later in life than such sorrows generally befall men. 
 The world saw in them an amiable and well-bred 
 couple who had had weighty reasons for seeking to be 
 joined together in the holy ordinance of matrimony 
 and jogged along in harness more comfortably than 
 did half of those who had contracted marriages of 
 affection without regard to other desirable accompani- 
 ments. The Temples were complacent in their con- 
 viction that Bertha had done well for herself as for 
 them. 
 
 " There was a trifling disparity in their ages, but it 
 was on the right side and there was a perfect under- 
 standing between them." 
 
 Sterling Cabell, whose cleverly-suppressed resent- 
 ment at his uncle's " folly at his time of life," and 
 Bertha's fickleness had cooled down somewhat with 
 time and reflection, yet said wicked things to himself
 
 164 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 in his cynical way of the perfidy and mercenary pro- 
 clivities common to all women when he attended one 
 of Mrs. Dent's parties, or met her in the park, in vel- 
 vets and sables, or silks and laces, as the season de- 
 manded. Sometimes her gray-haired husband was at 
 her side people began to whisper how fast the snow 
 was falling on his temples sometimes, a trio of laugh- 
 ing girls, or a couple of dignified matrons were with 
 her in the luxurious chariot Mrs. Cabell was never 
 tired of admiring and coveting. 
 
 " She ought to be satisfied with it and her lot gen- 
 erally," Sterling was surprised into saying to his mal- 
 content Imogen. " She crucified her heart, sold her- 
 self, body and soul, perjured herself at the altar to 
 secure the position she graces." 
 
 " Which means that she might have had the nephew 
 instead of the uncle," returned the wife, coolly. " I 
 don't blame her for what she did. It was an excellent 
 match for her. A woman should make the best bar- 
 gain she can in these matters. There is force, not 
 folly in the saying about an old man's darling. Few 
 wives, even though they may have brought their hus- 
 bands wealth, have their every whim indulged as she 
 has who came to hers penniless. I should like to learn 
 how she contrives to have her way so thoroughly." 
 
 " Not by lecturing her legal lord, I imagine," re- 
 joined Sterling, putting up his hand to conceal a yawn. 
 " You recollect the fable of the sun and wind ? " 
 
 " Unless her physiognomy belies her, she has spirit 
 as well as sense," said Imogen, contemptuously regard- 
 less of the insinuation. " Mr. Dent is not the man he 
 was, prior to his marriage. If the truth were known,
 
 Wall-Flowers. 165 
 
 I have no doubt we should find that she carries it with 
 a high hand when he dare oppose her sovereign will." 
 She was mistaken. From the memorable evening 
 of the discovery that blasted his hopes, there was never 
 the exchange of a jarring word between Mr. Dent and 
 her who was called his wife. Better the jostling of 
 impetuous waves that chafe and battle for an instant, 
 but to sink into a closer embrace,to blend more quickly 
 into one, than the wintry calm that locks them into 
 even, glittering ice. By mutual and tacit agreement, 
 the Dents discussed no subject concerning which they 
 were likely to disagree ; studied each the other's pref- 
 erences in their domestic arrangements ; were agree- 
 able and courteous to one another in private as in 
 public ; very conscientious, very attentive, and alto- 
 gether miserable. A woman whose moral principle 
 was less stanch would have revenged herself for her 
 consort's polite reserve by vigorous flirtation ; one who 
 had suffered less, and learned fewer lessons of self- 
 control in a sharp school would have revolted open- 
 ly at the unnatural life to which she was held by the 
 iron hand under the velvet glove of seeming regard 
 for her wishes and welfare. A weaker wife would 
 have complained of her joyless fate in the ears of those 
 who loved her and showed their love. The young 
 Virginian carried a high not a haughty head- 
 through pain, and amaze, and repression was loyal in 
 word as in deed to her grave-visaged spouse. In the 
 handsome house of which she was mistress, she was 
 hospitable, not gay, and when she went abroad her 
 husband was her cavalier. Scandal-loving tongues 
 might prate of the extreme probability that hers was
 
 1 66 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 a marriage of convenience, but the most lawless among 
 them never meddled with her serene propriety, never 
 dared whisper that it was the screen of unlicensed 
 desires or loves. If she felt her life to be a failure, 
 wearied of decent routine and elegant bondage, she 
 kept heart-burnings and regrets to herself. 
 
 For nearly two years after Ellen's marriage Bertha 
 did not revisit her native city. One summer her fa- 
 ther and mother passed with her in her Rockaway 
 cottage, and, having seen them so lately she declined 
 to go to Richmond the following winter. There was 
 always some plausible excuse for postponing the jour- 
 ney Mr. Dent repeatedly proposed, and although sur- 
 prised at her persistency of refusal he was far from 
 suspecting the truth, viz., that she attributed their es- 
 trangement to a slight, real or imaginary, put upon 
 him by some member of the company assembled at her 
 father's the evening the chill first fell upon her spirit. 
 He had heard or seen something that displeased him 
 what, she had racked her brain to conceive. Her 
 levity had offended his taste, or some chance and in- 
 discreet allusion to his age and her gayety sunk deeply 
 into his mind. However this might be, the thought 
 of going to Richmond was distasteful to her, and also, 
 she believed, to him. 
 
 Early in April of the second year, a summons ar- 
 rived that could not be disregarded. Mrs. Temple 
 was very ill, and a telegraphic dispatch to that effect 
 was sent to her absent daughters. Ellen's arrival at 
 the homestead preceded Bertha's by a few hours, and 
 for a fortnight the three sisters relieved each other as 
 nurses of the mother they loved so fondly. They won
 
 Wall-Flowers. 167 
 
 her back to life would not let her go, she said to Mr. 
 
 Dent, who surprised the family his wife included 
 
 by appearing among them one day at the close of the 
 third week of Bertha's stay. 
 
 " I trust you will never have experience of her pro- 
 ficiency in that line, but your wife is one of the clever- 
 est, tenderest nurses in the world," she added, putting 
 her wasted little hand in that of the son-in-law for 
 whom she had had a decided fondness from the be- 
 ginning of their acquaintanceship. " It was more than 
 kind in you to lend her to us for so long. Have you 
 come to take her away ? " 
 
 " By no means. I am here on a flying business visit. 
 I must return the day after to-morrow. It is my sin- 
 cere wish that Bertha should remain with you as long 
 as you require her services, or as she desires to stay. 
 I did not expect her to accompany me to New York." 
 
 " I wish my other half would take lessons from you 
 in self-denial or is it indifference ? " said Ellen, saucily. 
 " I half believe he is tired of you, Bertha that he 
 finds himself more comfortable without than with 
 you/' 
 
 " She knows better than that." The remark escaped 
 him involuntarily, but he did not offer to recall it. 
 
 Bertha smiled faintly, and, as her husband arose, 
 saying he must go down town, she busied herself with 
 her mother's pillows, answering his " Good-morning to 
 you all ! " with a silent bow. 
 
 " Don't you kiss your wife when you leave her in 
 the morning?" cried the thoughtless sister, feigning 
 to be shocked. " Suppose you were to be run over by 
 a runaway horse, or shot by a drunken soldier as that
 
 1 68 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 poor wretch was, the other day, or come to some other 
 awfully sudden end, how would you feel to think you 
 have parted from her in that frosty-genteel way ? I 
 was asked, last week, if you were not a very fashion- 
 ably-cool couple. I denied it then, but I must say 
 this looks like it. I should break my heart if my Will 
 were to go out of the house without kissing me." 
 
 The two thus bantered blushed like convicted 
 lovers. 
 
 " I will go with him as far as the door," said Bertha, 
 hastily trying to laugh the matter off. "You must 
 not regard Ellen's nonsense," continued she, when 
 they were in the hall. " She does not understand." 
 
 " I know ! " he answered, briefly it seemed to her 
 sadly. " Is there anything I can do for you in the 
 city ? " 
 
 " Nothing thank you ! " 
 
 " You ride or walk every day, do you not ? You 
 are looking pale and rather thin. At what hour shall 
 I order a carriage for you ? " 
 
 " We usually go about half-past four." 
 
 These sentences were exchanged in the lower hall, 
 while his hand was upon the front door. At her last 
 reply he opened it and stepped out upon the veranda. 
 
 " It will be a warm day ! " he observed, glancing up 
 at the sky, over which a whitish haze, like August 
 exhalations, was gathering. 
 
 " The season is very forward, even for this latitude," 
 was the answer, uttered mechanically. 
 
 He did not mean to kiss her, then. They were to 
 part on this day of reunion, after long separation, as 
 upon all other days, like common acquaintances. She
 
 Wall-Flowers. 169 
 
 was no nearer to him at meeting for having dreamed 
 of him by night and missed him with homesick long- 
 ing during every waking hour. She would never be 
 more to him than now never! 
 
 There could be no pleasure in prolonging the ex- 
 change of commonplaces, yet something seemed to 
 make him loath to go. It was very unlike his usual 
 promptitude of character and manner to loiter as he 
 did ; his hat in one hand, while the other trifled with 
 his cane. He appeared to be casting about in his 
 mind for some topic of conversation that would give 
 him an excuse for dallying yet longer, or to be revolv- 
 ing a subject he wished to introduce. 
 
 " Your wall-flowers are looking finely, this season," 
 he remarked, surveying the smiling ranks. "They 
 never display such affluence of bloom anywhere else 
 as in this balcony." 
 
 " The fine weather has brought them on well, but 
 they are hardy, constant bloomers always." Bertha 
 said it with an odd stricture about heart and throat, 
 absolute physical pain at the rush of emotions the 
 words brought over her. 
 
 If Mr. Dent remarked the change and falter in her 
 voice, he did not show that he had done so. 
 
 " Will you give me one ? " he asked, gently, after a 
 pause. 
 
 Without a word she broke off a spray, and, with 
 sudden, inexplicable boldness, pinned it in his button- 
 hole. 
 
 " Thank you ! " said he, gratefully. " I would beg 
 you to walk with me before the heat becomes oppres- 
 sive, but I promised to meet Mr. Burruss, who was
 
 I/O Wall-Flowers. 
 
 my travelling companion, in the court-room of the 
 capitol at half-past ten. Good-morning ! " 
 
 He raised his hat in the stately old-time courtesy 
 she thought so becoming, and walked off down the 
 street. 
 
 Bertha, leaning on the railing of the veranda, 
 gazed after him, her eyes filled with bitter-sweet 
 tears. 
 
 "If he knew ! " she said, by and by, in a hoarse 
 whisper. " But he never will. He would not care if 
 he did. He has not missed me all these weeks. He 
 would not have come to see me had not business 
 brought him. Heaven help me ! " 
 
 The passers-by were few in that neighborhood after 
 the morning stream of business men had flowed past 
 to empty itself into the lower town, and she sat down 
 upon a low cushion in the French window. A goodly 
 picture, thought the half-dozen who chanced to see 
 her there, in her white dress, her chin resting in her 
 palm, her eyes purple and velvety with thought, her 
 bright hair curling with the heat and moisture of the 
 unseasonably sultry day. She had sat in that spot 
 hundreds of times before in the long, long ago that 
 had never been so misty as now ; sat there with Ster- 
 ling's letters rustling in her bosom, and his miniature 
 in her hand ; sat there empty of hand and heart in 
 the few days of mourning she allowed herself over her 
 " beautiful, dead dream ; " but she had never held 
 sadder communings with herself than those that en- 
 grossed her after the echoes of the manly tread she 
 knew so well had died away. There was so little to 
 live for in her world. The sameness of the dreary
 
 Wall-Flowers. 171 
 
 prospect disheartened her. All hope that her husband 
 would ever love her again had departed from her 
 weary soul. Association with her, the knowledge of 
 her many faults, had changed his affection into indiffer- 
 ence. 
 
 " I am but one of many items in his daily account 
 of events, of pleasures, and of cares. I have striven 
 how earnestly only He who made me knows to 
 make myself necessary to his happiness, but in vain. 
 Is it my fate never to retain affection ? It was easy 
 to recover from the mortification occasioned by the 
 fickleness of a shallow, ignoble nature. But when a 
 man like this withdraws his regard, there must be some 
 grievous fault in me." , 
 
 She was still crouched behind the flowery screen, 
 her hands loosely clasped, her eyes cast down, and the 
 unbent lines of the proud mouth indicative of listless 
 wretchedness, when Mrs. Venable, who had gone out 
 immediately after breakfast, ran up the steps with 
 blanched face and quivering lips. 
 
 " The Lord have mercy upon our doomed city ! " 
 she cried, bursting into tears, as she saw her sister. 
 " This fills up the cup of our woes, is the climax of our 
 calamities ! " 
 
 " What is it ? " said Bertha, startled out of her 
 apathy. 
 
 " Haven't you heard the alarm-bells, and seen the 
 people rushing by? The floor of the court-room at the 
 capitol has fallen in, and a large number of men some 
 say hundreds were killed instantly. They were dig- 
 ging them from under the ruins as I came by. You 
 know the decision in the mayoralty case was to be
 
 172 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 given Bertha, don't scream ! We must keep the 
 news from mother at all hazards. Child, where are 
 you going ? " 
 
 Bertha tore herself loose from the grasp of the ter- 
 rified woman more terrified by her sister's behavior 
 and the wild glare of her eye than by the calamity 
 she had described sprang past her, and was in the 
 street before the other could ask another question or 
 summon help to detain her. 
 
 The sidewalks were thronged when she gained the 
 lower end of the street, where it ran into Capitol 
 Square. Swift, breathless pedestrians men, women, 
 and children, many elegant ladies bareheaded like 
 herself poured in a wild, current into the inclosure, 
 filled every avenue, were driven upon the turf by lines 
 of carriages hurrying hither and thither at the bidding 
 of friends and physicians. The vehicles leaving the 
 square contained bleeding forms supported by at- 
 tendants ; some motionless and prone, covered with 
 dust and gore ; not a few embraced by weeping wo- 
 men whose lamentations rent the ears of the spec- 
 tators. But the main tide set steadily toward the 
 majestic building, for eighty years the city's pride, 
 nevermore to be named without a shudder by those 
 who visited it on that direful day. Through the mul- 
 titude, when she could open the close ranks, with it, 
 when she could not, the wife pressed on in frenzied 
 haste, seeing nothing but the lofty walls ahead of her, 
 hearing nothing save the ringing of Ellen's lightly- 
 spoken words in her tortured brain : " What if you 
 were to come to some awfully sudden end ! " 
 
 " And he did not kiss me ! " repeated the half-
 
 
 Wall-Flowers. 173 
 
 crazed creature, again and again, whether aloud or 
 inwardly she did not know. 
 
 She gained the goal, the centre of fearful interest 
 to all, the railed space guarded by the police, a semi- 
 circle of turf directly beneath the gaping windows, 
 through which were visible the torn walls and splin- 
 tered beams. A dozen shapes were stretched upon 
 the sward, gray with dust, dripping with blood. 
 Knots of men were sponging the hideous disguise 
 from features otherwise unrecognizable ; straightening 
 into decent, stark composure distorted limbs prior to 
 the removal of the lifeless bodies of those who had 
 been killed instantly ; and, just as Bertha, clutching 
 the railing for support, leaned over it to search with 
 her own eyes for the one remembered form she be- 
 held in imagination wherever she gazed, four attend- 
 ants rolled up in a strip of carpeting, ripped from the 
 fallen flooring, something crushed out of all semblance 
 of humanity. 
 
 " Here comes another ! " murmured the throng 
 the horrified sigh that heralded the appearance of 
 each new victim. 
 
 A stalwart figure was borne down the steps, laid 
 tenderly upon the grass. His hair was matted over his 
 forehead, his sweeping beard hoary with the lime-pow- 
 der that had proved the agent of death to many, and on 
 his breast a spot of brighter color attracted instant 
 and pitying notice so incongruous was it with the 
 horrors of the scene a bruised cluster of yellow flow- 
 ers clinging to the lappel of his coat. 
 
 " My husband ! Oh ! let me have him ! " 
 
 In the midst of the tumult about her the wild cry
 
 1/4 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 was heard by comparatively few. But, when she 
 would have bowed to pass under the low rail that she 
 might the sooner reach the inanimate form, a firm 
 hand was laid upon her shoulder. She tried to shake 
 it off, without withdrawing her eyes from the sight 
 that had maddened her ; struggled in the hold of the 
 supposed policeman like a savage thing in a net. 
 
 " I tell you it is my husband ! I love him better 
 than anything else in the world ! You have no right 
 to keep me from him ! You shall not ! " she panted. 
 " For the love of mercy let me go ! " 
 
 An arm was wound about her waist, a cheek laid to 
 hers. 
 
 " Bertha, darling wife ! " 
 
 " Drive this way! " called a policeman to the driver 
 of a passing hack. " A lady has fainted." 
 
 She was lifted into the carriage by the sympathizing 
 officer and a tall gentleman with a full brown beard 
 touched with silver, and a spray of wall-flowers in his 
 button-hole. 
 
 "Poor thing! she must have recognized a friend 
 among the wounded," said those near her, and 
 straightway forgot the trifling incident in the new 
 horror of the next instant. 
 
 " I met Burruss on the capitol steps," Robert Dent 
 explained to his wife, when her sisters, having seen 
 her recover from her long and death-like swoon, and 
 heard Robert's brief statement of the cause of her 
 indisposition, considerately withdrew, leaving her ly- 
 ing, pale and happy, in her husband's arms. " He 
 told me that the court-room was crowded to excess, 
 so that he doubted the possibility of our finding
 
 Wall-Flowers. 175 
 
 standing-places, much less seats. The day was so. 
 warm that after a minute's deliberation we abandoned 
 the thought of going in, and I suggested, instead, that 
 we should pass the time that must intervene before 
 we could learn the decision, in visiting other portions 
 of the building. We were in the central hall, looking 
 at the statue of Washington, when the crash came, 
 and immediately lent our aid in removing the rubbish 
 and extricating the injured. I was upon the steps, 
 having just assisted in carrying out a wounded man, 
 when the gleam of your uncovered hair, and the flut- 
 ter of your white dress on the outside of the rail, 
 caught my eye, and I hastened around to you." 
 
 For two days, from sunrise to sunset, the throbbing 
 of the funeral bells was the audible pulsation of the 
 city's mighty heart of woe, and the mourners went 
 about the streets. What was yesterday the busy mart 
 of trade was deserted, and from every closed door 
 floated a sable pennon below the placard : 
 
 " Closed on account of the calamity at the capital" 
 
 Of the grief of desolated homes, the secrets of 
 stricken hearts, the bewilderment and distress of the 
 oft-smitten town robbed in one little hour of nearly 
 three-score of her noblest sons it is not the province 
 of my pen to write. Turn we rather to the holy calm 
 of the Sabbath evening succeeding the disaster, when 
 hand in hand, husband and wife in truth as in name, 
 sat upon the balcony under the stars, listening to the 
 requiem of the river, breathing the incense of wall- 
 flowers ; and, when the fulness of their souls allowed
 
 176 Wall-Flowers. 
 
 them to speak, talking softly of past mistakes, of 
 present content, of the future, which should be as the 
 present and even more abundant. 
 
 " Yet I could wish, for your sake, that I were 
 younger in years, as young as I am in heart," said 
 Robert, regretfully. 
 
 Bertha's answer was to kiss the luxuriant locks 
 massed above the broad forehead. 
 
 " Beautiful hair ! " she added, caressingly. " It is a 
 crown of glory in my sight because it is you who 
 wear it."
 
 ABIGAIL'S WAITING. 
 
 A FAMILY CHRONICLE. 
 
 " I WASN'T surprised when I heard you had taken 
 to story-writing," said Aunt Anne, unfolding the un- 
 finished stocking I could have been sure was twin to 
 that I had left her at work upon twenty years before. 
 "It runs in the family, you know." 
 
 "No?" I returned, interested on the instant. "From 
 whom is the gift inherited ? " 
 
 " That is more than I can tell you, if you mean 
 where the faculty started in the beginning. But I can 
 trace it back four generations at least. There was 
 your own grandmother on your mother's side, for in- 
 stance. I've heard men like Doctor Speece and John 
 Randolph say she was. the best classical scholar of her 
 sex and day they ever talked with, and she was forever 
 busy with her pen. It wasn't so customary for people 
 to print their writings in those times, but her letters 
 and poems were beautiful ! And she'd tell such stories 
 to us in the winter evenings as would make us cry and 
 laugh together. She was a genius and a delightful 
 singer, and very lovely in person and disposition. 
 Then there was my first cousin, Thomas Willard. He 
 was an editor, and would have been famous only he 
 1 77 8*
 
 178 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 died young. My Will but you read his one book 
 and the magazine articles that made such a noise. I 
 have everything he ever printed in the big oak chest 
 up stairs, along with the family Bible and my husband's 
 wedding coat. The last article was a camp letter that 
 came out in a Richmond paper. We had just read it 
 the day we heard from Gettysburg." 
 
 I did not look at her, but I heard the regular click 
 of her needles as I turned my face aside and gazed 
 out of the window, over the line of winter-gray hills 
 to the northeastern horizon the quarter whence the 
 news had come that broke the father's heart, and 
 caused the mother to take up the touching lament 
 "These two things have come upon me in one day 
 loss of children and widowhood ! " I knew what Will 
 Moore had been to those he left in the homestead, 
 when he buttoned the gray coat over a swelling heart, 
 and gave a rakish slouch to the military cap lest the 
 light should sparkle upon the water that stood in his 
 eyes. I could see the evergreens in the family grave- 
 yard at the foot of the garden from where I sat ; 
 knew under which the father's white head was pil- 
 lowed, just two months after they " heard from Get. 
 tysburg." There was a space on each side of him for 
 another grave. That on the right was to be filled by 
 his wife ; that on the left was meant for one who would 
 never be laid there. But the earth covered the boy 
 as kindly and securely in the far northern battle- 
 ground, the sun shone as brightly, the grass was as 
 green. What mattered the separation of the kindred 
 dust so long as the spirits of father and son roamed 
 the heavenly fields in company ?
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 179 
 
 My eyes returned to the figure at the fireside a 
 comely old lady in a widow's dress, with eyes that saw 
 too far in these latter days to be always mournful, 
 and lips whose law was always that of kindness. 
 
 " But, Aunt Anne," I said, " you have mentioned 
 but three in whom this scribbling propensity was de- 
 veloped. Were any other members of our family 
 given to the same indulgence ? " 
 
 " There have been clergymen by the score. I sup- 
 pose they hardly come under the head of authors. 
 And plenty of lawyers. You would call them makers 
 of fiction, wouldn't you ?" with a smile at the guileless 
 satire. " But have you never heard of your great- 
 aunt-in-law, Mrs. Abigail Carter, wife of Colonel Frank 
 Carter, who fought in the Revolution ? He lived and 
 died on this plantation ; indeed he built this part of 
 the house just before he married the first time, for 
 Abigail was his second wife. There is no portrait of 
 the first, but hers is the fourth on the right-hand side 
 as you go into the parlor from this room." 
 
 " I have noticed it. It is the lady in brown brocade 
 and cherry breast-knot. Her hair is dressed in close 
 curls on the temples, and she has a sampler in her 
 hand." 
 
 " Something that looks like a sampler, but it isn't. 
 It was a piece of her own work that the Colonel in- 
 sisted upon her holding while the painting was made. 
 I heard all about it while I was on a visit here in 1828 
 or '9. She was quite an old lady then, and her hair 
 was like silver, but she wore it in the same way, and 
 her hands were as elegant in shape. Her eyes were 
 lively, and her voice sweet and clear as a bell. Her
 
 I8o Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 step-daughters were here, too, with their children ; 
 they fairly worshipped her. And her husband! It 
 was beautiful to see his pride in and love for her. 
 One doesn't often meet such old married lovers. 
 But she was very lovely, and such excellent company 
 for everybody that she couldn't but be a favorite. 
 I heard the story then, as I said in whispers and 
 bits, as it were but I had almost forgotten it until 
 four or five years ago my Will took it into his head 
 on a rainy day to overhaul a trunk full of letters and 
 papers that was in the garret when I came here to 
 live, after the death of Colonel and Mrs. Carter. My 
 husband was the Colonel's nephew. At the very bot- 
 tom he found a book bound in leather, stamped in 
 gilt letters on the cover with the name " ABIGAIL 
 CARTER," and nearly filled with her writing. The 
 paper was yellow, with brown spots all over it, as old 
 manuscripts will be, no matter how dry they are kept, 
 but Will never rested until he had made it all out. He 
 read it aloud to his father and myself after he had 
 been through it once ; and when we told him that it 
 was certainly true, just as she had set it down (and 
 my husband said the listening to it was like hearing 
 his aunt speak), Will was as excited as if he had 
 opened a gold mine. Down he sat it was in his college 
 vacation and began to copy it out, word for word. 
 I know he intended to have it printed sometime 
 maybe to work it up into a book but the war came. 
 It is with the rest of his papers." 
 
 She knit away industriously, and I stared into the 
 fire, trying to frame into fitting words the request I 
 did not quite dare to prefer. Presently she resumed :
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 181 
 
 " I've often thought of you, dear, since he left us, 
 and wondered if you wouldn't like to read the story. 
 It being true, and about your own kinspeople, it 
 seemed to me likely you'd be interested in it. And I 
 am loath to let it die out of everybody's mind, as it 
 will, if it does not pass out of the keeping of my gen- 
 eration. There is but a handful of us left." 
 
 Thus it happened that I read, and carefully com- 
 pared with the faded original, the heart-history of 
 Abigail Gordon, who married Francis Carter, copied 
 out in clerkly characters by the hand of her grand- 
 nephew the hand that would never hold pen again. 
 
 May i$th, 1802. 
 
 " Please get me a new scrap-book," I said to Colonel 
 Carter, when he asked me what he should bring me 
 from Richmond, whither business called him last week. 
 " My old one is full." 
 
 He laughed at my moderate desire, likening it to 
 Beauty's request for a rose when her sisters begged for 
 jewels and fine clothes ; but he brought me upon his 
 return, besides an elegant brown brocade silk, this 
 volume, so gay in its gilded binding, so fresh with its 
 unturned leaves, it is almost a pity to defile it with ink, 
 to use it as I did the bulky book stitched together and 
 covered by myself. Yet there is fitness in the contrast. 
 Times have changed with me as well as books. My 
 shabby, home-made diary was the best I could afford. 
 I have been thinking while sitting here gazing at the 
 two lying side by side, whether I would, if I could, 
 strike out from my memory so much of my life as is 
 recorded in those two hundred and fifty foolscap pages;
 
 1 82 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 put myself back where I stood this day fourteen years 
 ago, and take from that point what seemed then the 
 one easy step to this, as I expected and hoped at that 
 date to do. It is well that GOD does not leave the 
 decision of these knotty questions to us, for the flesh 
 is very weak, human sight very short. HE must have 
 had some gracious purpose in turning me back upon 
 the very edge 6f the Promised Land, with the smell of 
 the goodly spices, lilies and tender grapes in my nos- 
 trils ; the sight of the sweet fields just before me ; the 
 sound of fountains, and south wind and singing-birds 
 in my eager ears, and causing me to wander so long in 
 a dry and bitter desert. . But the pilgrimage was a 
 sharp trial. 
 
 "You should write it all out, mother," said Frances 
 to me last night. 
 
 She is never tired of catechising me about my past 
 life ; looks upon prosy, practical me as a heroine of 
 romance. Whereas the truth is that, but for the 
 happy ending of my probation, my experience is by 
 no means remarkable. It saddens me to think to how 
 few, whose night of weeping has endured longer than 
 did mine, the day ever breaks this side of Jordan. 
 Perhaps they will enjoy the eternal sunlight more for 
 having groped so long in the darkness. 
 
 This is a delicious day. My table is drawn up to 
 the open window about which the white jessamine 
 climbs and flowers luxuriantly. The vine reared from 
 the tiny root I wrapped in moss, and packed in one 
 corner of Frank's knapsack the night of our parting! 
 I thought it strange then that he asked for it, I so 
 hoped he would come back to me in a day or two. It
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 183 
 
 was as if he had a presentiment of what was before us- 
 The air is laden with the perfume that hung about 
 another window, where I sat and sewed on that long- 
 ago mid-May day, when, chancing to raise my eyes, I 
 beheld close to me, outside the casement, a dusty sol- 
 dier, his hat in his hand, waiting patiently my notice. 
 He was one of a company of Virginia troops just ar- 
 rived in our village, and had been quartered upon us. 
 I was startled by his appearance, and not appeased 
 when he made known his errand. I foresaw that the 
 entertainment of a stranger would entail more care 
 upon me than suited my taste. Mother was not well 
 that spring, and while it pleased me to play the lady 
 of the house in such matters as giving general orders 
 to the well-trained servants, and sitting at the head of 
 the table, and carrying a jingling bunch of keys fast 
 to a silver chain at my girdle, I did not relish practi- 
 cal housewifery ; detested confinement and regular 
 hours. -Moreover, to be frank, I was half Tory at 
 heart, a lesson learned secretly from my delicate little 
 mother, whom my father a sturdy Whig had trans- 
 planted to the then wild Northern Carolinas, like a 
 white English rose, twenty years before. She never 
 took root in the foreign soil, clung to old-world cus- 
 toms and prejudices, and regarded herself as an exile. 
 She " had high notions," said our plainer neighbors, 
 for our house, although not large, was better furnished 
 than theirs ; there was more state in our domestic 
 arrangements ; and I had a governess instead of going 
 to school. This last appendage to our household was 
 condemned as shameless extravagance by these good 
 people, and my parents were too independent of their
 
 1 84 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 opinion to explain that she was a reduced gentlewoman 
 my mother's cousin, in fact who had no other 
 home. We lived upon the outskirts of the village. 
 My father was a planter, and I was eighteen years old 
 when Frank Carter, then a private in the American 
 army, was received as our guest ; cordially by my fa- 
 ther from the beginning, by my mother and myself 
 because we could not help ourselves. I mention this 
 because it seems so marvellous now, especially when I 
 recollect how soon I learned to love him. I never 
 called the feeling by any other name after the first 
 week he spent with us. Before a fortnight had gone 
 by, I knew that he loved me. I own that this was 
 hasty, that my mother had reason on her side when 
 she held up her hands and cried out vehemently 
 against our betrothal as indecorous and imprudent. 
 But those were not the times for useless and ceremo- 
 nious delays. Frank might be ordered away at any 
 moment, and we not look upon one another's faces 
 again for months perhaps never meet more in this 
 world. Love grows and ripens fast under the spell of 
 such thoughts. Then we had been together daily, al- 
 most hourly, and however others might carp and crit- 
 icise, we two had no doubt that we were following the 
 lead of destiny in vowing to be true to one another so 
 long as we both should live. All this while I knew my 
 Frank only as a private soldier, fighting on foot in the 
 ranks of the Continental army, and dependent, for 
 aught I could say to the contrary, upon the scanty 
 pay doled out to the patriots when there chanced to 
 be any money in the national treasury. By and by, 
 after he had had a formal business talk with father,
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 185 
 
 mother told me a different story. I was going to 
 marry into one of the best families in Virginia. Frank 
 was descended from good old English stock, and he 
 would be rich in time. 
 
 " That is, if the rebellion should succeed, which is 
 very doubtful," added mother, tryinff to conceal her 
 satisfaction at my prospects under a show of defiant 
 loyalty to king and country. 
 
 For all that, I think she hoped that the Colonies 
 would make good their assertion of independence. 
 She loved her husband, and she loved me, and she 
 was fast learning to love Frank. Who did not that 
 knew him ? There was no more popular man in his 
 regiment, which was chiefly made up of gentlemen 
 and gentlemen's sons. By the time he had been a 
 week in our village, every dog and child knew and 
 would follow him for a word or caress. Blessed is he 
 whom dumb animals and babies love ! 
 
 Did I know how highly-favored I was among women ? 
 I doubt it. True, I said to myself that I was perfectly 
 happy. I remember the queer, giddy rush of rapture 
 that overwhelmed me once in a while when I went 
 to church, or walked the village streets with my noble 
 soldier-lover, and saw how the gaze of all lingered upon 
 his tall, erect figure and handsome, bronzed face, and 
 the eyes that were so merry yet could be so tender ; 
 how I wondered, dizzily, if it were not too good to be 
 true that he had really chosen me out of the whole 
 world, and would make me his wife before long ; that, 
 happen what might, I was henceforth to be nearest 
 and dearest to him of all living things. I believed, 
 too, that nothing this side of heaven could be more
 
 1 86 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 entrancing than the moonlight evenings we enjoyed 
 in company, sitting upon the steps of the south porch 
 the one overrun most thickly with the white jessa- 
 mine that grew, like a wild creeper, all along the front 
 of the house. It was never out of bloom that sum- 
 mer, and I cannot recall a night without a moon. 
 There must have been, of course, for Frank was with 
 us two months, and I shall never forget how the new 
 moon looked the night he went away. Still, as I was 
 saying, I was too ignorant of life and life's changes to 
 understand that mine was an unusual lot. It was 
 only what I had expected all through my undiscip- 
 lined, dreaming girlhood. I had been on the look-out 
 for the fairy prince ever since I was allowed to put up 
 my curls with a new, real tortoise-shell comb, and 
 that he had appeared was not to be wondered at, 
 however I might rejoice in it. 
 
 Many a girl's love genuine, lasting love is mixed 
 with the alloy of vanity, and coquetry, and ungener- 
 ous triumph over those less fortunate than herself, al- 
 though, Heaven knows ! often more worthy. I am 
 afraid I was not a better woman for this great happi- 
 ness. It is certain that I was selfish in my enjoyment 
 of it. I hope I had too much sense and taste to give 
 myself unbecoming airs, in virtue of my new riches ; 
 but inwardly I thanked not the Giver of every good 
 and perfect gift but my own charms my bright eyes, 
 rosy cheeks, and ready tongue ; my superiority in 
 education and refinement to those about me that I 
 was not as other girls of eighteen were. I need not 
 wrinkle my smooth forehead, or muddy my complexion 
 by anxieties about my future. My fortune had been
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 187 
 
 laid at my feet, instead of my going forth to seek it. 
 I was but a child after all, an only and a spoiled child 
 at that. The furnace-fires of the Father's wise love, 
 not His wrath, purge our best affections from such 
 unsightlyand hurtful dross. 
 
 Two months, then eight swift weeks sixty-one 
 golden, fragrant days had sped by, and with no bod- 
 ing of sorrow or evil upon my young heart, I stood in 
 the south porch, at sunset of a July day, watching for 
 Frank's return from the afternoon drill. Mother had 
 a headache ; Cousin Abigail was at a neighbor's, help- 
 ing nurse a sick child ; and father was away from 
 home. Frank and I were to be left to ourselves at 
 supper-time ; and I had ordered the cream-waffles 
 and fried chicken, of which he was particularly fond, 
 with coffee, fresh pound cake, and strawberry pre- 
 serves, and dressed myself in white muslin, with jessa- 
 mine stars in my hair, to do honor to his little feast. 
 I felt fresh and joyous, although I had been hard at 
 work all day upon a cartridge-box cover intended as a 
 surprise for Frank. I had embroidered the canvas 
 sides without exciting his suspicions, leaving him to 
 suppose that they were for a work-bag. Every stitch 
 was set to the music of my happy heart-beats ; every 
 leaf and tint had its association with loving thoughts 
 of him. I had worked him into it all over, although 
 other eyes could only see two nosegays of roses, lilies, 
 clove pinks, and the like, bordered with a wreath of 
 white jessamine our flower from the instant he saw 
 me, for the first time, framed by its branches, at the 
 south window. I had coaxed the village saddler to 
 cut out the morocco pieces for the ends and flap, and
 
 1 88 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 to stitch the buckles on the straps, also to lend me an 
 awl to puncture the holes for my needle. The rest I 
 did myself, and many a sore prick my fingers received 
 in the task. But it was finished, and very handsome 
 it was, and how pleased my darling would be when I 
 should rip away the tattered covers from the wooden 
 frame he had used ever since his enlistment, and slip 
 on the new one ! said I to myself, with all manner of 
 other sweet and pleasant things, idly noticing the 
 while the bank of dun-colored cloud lying in wait on 
 the tree-tops for the sinking sun; the shining rim that 
 a few moments later showed where he had been swal- 
 lowed up ; the glittering dust in the public road, raised 
 by a horseman going toward the country and by a 
 drove of cows coming into the village, and humming 
 a little love-song Frank had taught me. At last I saw 
 him walking up the lane faster than usual, because he 
 was late, I supposed. Just before he reached me, I 
 stepped down into the path to meet him, and as I did 
 so I caught a glimpse of a pale young moon in the 
 west. 
 
 " O Frank ! " I cried, in pretended distress, " I have 
 seen the new moon over my left shoulder." He did 
 not say a word, only took me in his arms there in the 
 broad daylight, and out of doors, in sight of every- 
 body who might be passing, and kissed me again and 
 again. I was frightened and angry, until I looked in 
 his face and saw that he was pale as death, and his 
 dear eyes full of tears. Then I begged him to tell me 
 " all." 
 
 He kept back nothing. The regiment was to march 
 in an hour, and there would be a battle on the mor-
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 189 
 
 row, with superior numbers, too. If victorious, he 
 would come back to me in a few days. If not, it 
 might be a weary while before we met again. I did 
 not scream or faint. I even urged him to eat his sup- 
 per, while I packed his knapsack for was he not my 
 promised husband? and filled with my own hands 
 the new cartridge-box I had prepared. We said 
 " Good-by ! " on the door-step, the jessamine streamers 
 brushing our heads, as he stooped to lay his cheek to 
 mine for the last time, and the faint, young moon 
 looking sorrowfully at us as she entered the lead- 
 colored clouds in the horizon. 
 
 " If all goes well with us you will hear from me very 
 soon," he said. " If not, dear, trust in GOD ! He will 
 never forsake or disappoint you, and He lives forever ! " 
 
 I did not take in the full meaning of the words 
 when they were spoken. I hope to tell through all 
 eternity how much they signified to me in the many 
 days of darkness to which this farewell was but the 
 gentle twilight. 
 
 The battle did take place a desperate one, in which 
 the patriots were driven back many miles from their 
 original position with great loss. The victors poured 
 into our little village, flooding it with a racketing, riot- 
 ous rabble, foraging and pillaging, without let or stay, 
 for a whole day, until their officers could restore disci- 
 pline. Our able-bodied men were all absent with the 
 army, where my father would also have been but 
 for the lameness left by a violent attack of rheuma- 
 tism. August, September, October, and November 
 dragged wretchedly by, t and there was neither mes- 
 sage nor letter from Frank only a report brought in
 
 1 90 A bigail's Waiting. 
 
 by an escaped scout to the effect that he had been 
 seen to fall among the first that went down before the 
 British fire, a rumor that every day made more likely. 
 In December my father died suddenly from rheuma- 
 tism of the heart, leaving us almost penniless. The 
 executor told me this before that fearfully stormy Feb- 
 ruary day, when I watched beside my mother's 
 death-bed. She had never held up her head after her 
 husband's funeral. I could feel and say even then, 
 " The will of the Lord be done ! " for she had not 
 guessed how near the wolf was to the door, and she 
 was utterly unfit to struggle with poverty. The plan- 
 tation was heavily mortgaged, and there were no ser- 
 vants to work it, our best " hands" having been enticed 
 or driven away by the enemy. The war had made all 
 other kinds of property worthless. There was no use 
 puzzling over the manner in which the sum was 
 worked. The total was plain to sight, and it was 
 " Ruin." Beggary or hard work these were the al- 
 ternatives set before my timid, terrified cousin-gover- 
 ness and myself. We could ply neither trade with 
 any hope of success in the war-swept region in which 
 we were. The winter was very severe. Between the 
 frost and the royal troops, hardly enough remained by 
 spring to keep a field-mouse alive. I sold everything 
 that anybody would buy, gave away what I could not 
 sell, and, slipping through the red-coat lines, made my 
 way, slowly and arduously, with my one companion, 
 northward. My mother's sister lived in Philadelphia, 
 and I had a shadowy idea that she would find me 
 work. 
 
 In Richmond my cousin sickened and lay ill so long
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 191 
 
 that when she died I had to apply to the town poor- 
 master for means to bury her. The thought came to 
 me, as I stood by the narrow pit into which they were 
 lowering the unpainted pine coffin, what my mother 
 would have felt and said had she been told that one 
 of her kindred a Gordon in blood and name who 
 had formed a part of her own household, would fill a 
 pauper's grave. But I was past being hurt by this or 
 any other stroke to my pride. I was thankful I 
 could never be glad again, so I believed that my 
 cousin dear, patient, unworldly sufferer ! had got 
 rid of this wearisome thing men call existence, and I 
 wished, with a sort of leaden, dull heartache I ought 
 to have got used to by this time, that I could be 
 buried up with her, end my journey and my cares 
 there. I did not weep over the humble mound cover- 
 ing my last earthly friend. Nor did I pray that the 
 affliction might make me more fit to rejoin those who 
 had gone before me to the land where none say " I 
 am sick," where sorrow and crying are exchanged for 
 crowns and psalms. 
 
 I only kept saying over and over to myself in a 
 stupid way : " ' This life which is a continual death,' ' a 
 continual death,' ' a continual death! ' 
 
 Had I not found it so ? First, my Frank gave up 
 his breath in that bloody fight ; then both my parents 
 were taken ; and now the kinswoman whose name- 
 sake and pet I was. All within one year ! It was a 
 July sun that beat sickeningly upon my head as I 
 turned from the grave to answer the questions of a 
 curious or conscientious man who had directed the 
 sexton's movements.
 
 192 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 " Must make an entry of the burial, you see," he 
 said, producing a well-thumbed book from his pocket. 
 " ' Abigail Gordon, spinster,' you say ? " writing it 
 down. " No use asking her age. Spinsters never 
 rise twenty-five. From North Carolina, I understand. 
 That's all I want." 
 
 The colored sexton shouldered his spade and pick- 
 axe, wound up the cord used in letting down the 
 coffin, and went off whistling in one direction, the 
 other man in another. I trudged back from the 
 Potter's Field to my miserable lodgings ; paid my 
 bill with the last valuable I had my father's watch 
 and, rather than trespass upon the grudged charity of 
 my late hosts, set out to inquire from door to door 
 for a situation as nursery-governess, seamstress, cham- 
 bermaid, scullion anything by which I could keep 
 myself from vagrancy and starvation. I could not 
 expect more than an humble position, dressed as I was 
 in my threadbare mourning, and confessing with my 
 first utterance to each person I accosted that I was a 
 stranger in the city, without references or credentials. 
 Yet if I had hoped at all, I should have aspired to 
 something a degree better than the post of maid-of- 
 all-work in the family of a man who kept a low gro- 
 cery and liquor store, and lived in the same building. 
 But I had a room to myself, and I stayed a month. 
 My mistress was a coarse, raw-boned slattern, and a 
 virago as well ; the children were ungovernable ; the 
 place a hell by night with the fights and the swearing 
 below, and uncomfortable as dirt and ill-temper could 
 make it by day. I had no other hole in which to 
 hide, and my sensibilities were benumbed, so I did
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 193 
 
 not mind all this so much as I did the familiarity of the 
 master of the premises, when he, one day, in a drunken 
 fit, offered to kiss me. I broke away from him un- 
 aided, his wife being absent at the time, flew up to my 
 garret-chamber, made my clothes into a bundle, ran 
 down stairs and out at the front door, and never saw 
 him or his house again. It was a humiliation, yet it 
 did me thus much good. It proved that I could feel, 
 and act upon that emotion. 
 
 My next venture was as seamstress the helper of 
 an overworked mantua-maker, whose customers were 
 all from the lower walks of life, most of them negroes. 
 She was kind to me, and I smothered my disgust and 
 labored early and late for eighteen months in the 
 low-ceiled hut it was scarcely more breathing bad 
 air winter and summer, for the place was never clean, 
 until my employer married her second husband, and 
 had no further use for my services. She was going to 
 give up work, she said, and I fancy she thought me 
 too good-looking to be a safe inmate of her new home. 
 She made me a little present in money on her wed- 
 ding-day, and when I put it with the scanty earnings 
 I had hoarded up, I cried for joy at discovering 
 that it would take me to Philadelphia. I had not 
 written to my aunt except just after my mother's 
 death to announce that event. I sent a letter before 
 me now to ask for employment, and followed by the 
 cheapest conveyances I could procure. It cost me 
 some trouble and much perplexity to find my moth- 
 er's sister. I had not expected that she would be so 
 great a lady and live in so grand a house. Her hus- 
 band was an army-contractor, and famishing though
 
 194 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 the soldiers were said to be, the business must have 
 been a profitable one, for everything in his style of 
 living was on a yery liberal scale except my wages. 
 My aunt would not hear of my attempting to earn my 
 living. 
 
 / " It would be a lasting disgrace to the family," she 
 said. " My poor sister would not rest in her grave if 
 I were to allow it. She, who thought so much of the 
 Gordon name that she married her cousin, we used to 
 say because she didn't think any other family in the 
 land was fit to mate with hers ! No, my sweet niece ! 
 my house must be your home until you leave it for one 
 of your own. If you must have some nominal duties 
 in order that you may feel independent, you may play 
 at teaching my cherubs, look after their clothes, and 
 so forth, and be as happy as your mother's daughter 
 ought to be." 
 
 Then she embraced me. The plain English of all 
 this was that I was to live ten years under that roof, 
 a drudge, who was thanked superfluously with words, 
 and paid for excessive and wearing labors with her 
 board, lodging, and the cast-off clothes of her task- 
 mistress. I slept in the room with two of the 
 " cherubs ; " washed and dressed all four, and made 
 and mended their clothes ; heard their lessons ; took 
 them out to walk, and bore without the right 
 of complaint all their humors and petty tyranny ; 
 dressed my young lady-cousins for parties, and balls, 
 and dinners; and, lest time should go heavily while I 
 sat up for their return, nearly every night had set 
 tasks of embroidery of various kinds. 
 
 "Active employment is beneficial for the mind and
 
 A bigail 's Waiting. 195 
 
 body," my aunt would say, when she allotted each 
 new burden, and I thought, but never spoke, of the 
 Israelites in Egypt. 
 
 I was thirty years old when one who was a true 
 gentleman, with birth, breeding, and wealth to sup- 
 port his claim to the title, sought my acquaintance ; 
 contrived to improve it by escorting me home from 
 church, and meeting me when I was walking with the 
 children finally, offered to marry me. He was a 
 childless widower of forty, with no near relatives ex- 
 cept a married sister. I had heard of people being 
 haunted by the shades of the loved and departed, but 
 the night succeeding this proposal I learned for my- 
 self what such visitations were. I had watched out 
 the small hours, being in an agony of indecision. My 
 life was so mean and barren nowadays, had been so 
 overloaded with sorrow in those that were past, that 
 any change seemed welcome. I told myself that Mr. 
 Seabrook merited my affection, as he had won my 
 esteem ; that the lot he offered me was like release 
 from a hateful prison-house ; that, since youth and its 
 dreams had gone forever, it behooved me to make 
 provision for old age and possible ill health. And 
 how could this be done so surely as by accepting the 
 hand of this kind and honorable gentleman ? His was 
 the only offer I had had in twelve years. It was not 
 likely that the opportunity would be repeated shortly, 
 if ever. I had told him I never meant to marry, and 
 he had entreated me to think the matter over for one 
 day more. No doubt my hesitation must have seemed 
 odd enough to him, for he knew what my circum- 
 stances were. I had fallen asleep about four o'clock
 
 196 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 a restless, unrefreshing slumber, when I thought that 
 I opened my eyes upon Frank Carter standing at my 
 bedside. He had a spray of white jessamine in his 
 hand, and laid it on my pillow. It was wet with dew, 
 and smelled just as that did at home on the moonlight 
 nights, when we sat together hand in hand on the 
 doorstep. 
 
 " O Abby ! " he said, in tender reproach, " can't you 
 wait for me a little longer? just a little longer?" 
 
 I could feel his kiss upon my lips, and still smell the 
 jessamine, when I awoke myself with my sobbing. I 
 told Mr. Seabrook all about it the next day. 
 
 " He has been in his grave twelve years," said I, 
 " but his image is as fresh in my heart as if we had 
 parted yesterday. It would be a sin for me to marry 
 any other man while this is so." 
 
 "You are right," he answered. "But few women 
 are so faithful. I doubt if men ever are. I will not 
 press you further, but I can never be less than your 
 friend." 
 
 He kissed my hand at that and went away, and I 
 cried heartily because I could not love him as he de- 
 served to be loved. He sent his sister to see me, 
 and to her under Heaven I owe the happiness of my 
 after life. It was through her influence that I ob- 
 tained the place of assistant in a large and popular 
 boarding school for young ladies, much to my aunt's 
 displeasure. She never visited or spoke to me after 
 this glaring instance of disobedience and ingratitude. 
 My new life was very pleasant, and my duties light, in 
 comparison with the burden I had carried so long. I 
 taught the primary classes in English, and instructed
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 197 
 
 the larger girls in fine needlework, embroidery, and 
 painting upon velvet, and heartily enjoyed their 
 society and my occupation. 
 
 One October day there appeared in my sewing 
 class two new faces, fine frank ones, too, belonging to 
 sisters, nine and eleven years old. They clung to- 
 gether, and looked so abashed by the formidable 
 array of strangers that I pitied them, and instead of 
 speaking to them across the room, went up close to 
 their seat, and laid my hand encouragingly upon the 
 shoulder of the elder, as I asked what were their 
 names. 
 
 ." Frances and Maria Carr," so I interpreted the shy 
 whisper, twice repeated at my request, and thus it 
 went down in my class-book. 
 
 If I had made any mistake in the surname, nobody 
 corrected it, and I soon ceased to use it as I became 
 better acquainted with the girls. They were from 
 Virginia, and the discovery that this was so did not 
 lessen the liking that I had conceived for them from 
 the first. They returned my affection in abundant 
 measures, and we were on affectionate terms before 
 they had been my pupils a month. When I found 
 out that they were motherless and had no visiting 
 places in Philadelphia, I invited them to run into my 
 room whenever they felt like it ; let them talk as 
 freely as their warm hearts prompted, of home and 
 neighborhood gossip and " papa." About the middle 
 of December Frances was confined to her bed by a 
 cold, and the principal permitted me to remove her to 
 my chamber, where I might nurse her and give her 
 as much of my company as my school-duties allowed.
 
 198 Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 The dear child was charmed with the arrangement, 
 and so grateful for the little I could do for her, that 
 the charge was a pleasure, not a care to me. 
 
 We were all three together on the 2$d of De- 
 cember, sitting around my cheerful fire. Frances in 
 an easy chair, Maria and I busy with our needles. 
 " Papa " had almost promised to pay his daughters a 
 flying visit during the holidays, and each had pre- 
 pared a present for him. Maria's was a buckskin 
 tobacco pouch, worked with silk and beads ; Frances 
 had half finished a pair of braces when she was taken 
 sick, and I had gone on with them much to her de- 
 light. 
 
 " Where did you learn so many beautiful stitches, 
 Miss Gordon ? " she inquired, watching the pattern as 
 it grew under my hand. " How many do you know 
 in all?" 
 
 " About a dozen, I believe," I replied, " And my 
 teacher was my governess, an English lady." 
 
 " That is funny ! " prattled on the child. " The 
 handsomest piece of tapestry I ever saw until I came 
 here was worked by an English lady. So Aunt Mar- 
 garet papa's sister told me. She made it into a 
 work-bag for me, but charged me to take great care 
 of it, and not to let papa see it, for it would make him 
 feel badly maybe. He loved the lady very dearly, 
 but she died or ran away, or something else dreadful. 
 It almost killed him, Aunt Margaret said, but after 
 awhile he got over it and married mamma, who had 
 been just like a sister to him always. ' Ria,' won't 
 you please get the bag out of my trunk ? There are 
 some stitches I want to know the names of."
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 199 
 
 I was counting the stitches on the last row of my 
 work, and did not take my eyes from it until Maria 
 laid upon my knee the very cover I had embroidered 
 for Frank's cartridge box ! I must have behaved like 
 one demented, for when I found my senses and right 
 words I was kissing the embroidery as if it had been 
 alive and conscious. Frances looked scared, and lit- 
 tle Maria had begun to cry. It was this, I believe, 
 that brought me to. 
 
 I can't write down all that happened in the next 
 few days, but this is not because I have forgotten 
 one of the events which crowded thick and fast upon 
 me. Colonel Carter came on Christmas Day, and 
 when introduced to his daughter's teacher and nurse, 
 recognized me at once. I had not anticipated this. 
 Still less had I dared hope that his love would revive 
 with all the fervor of youthful passion when he found 
 that I was alive and single. He had sought me in 
 vain when military engagements suffered him to re- 
 visit my old home. With infinite trouble he had 
 traced me to Richmond, then to the Potter's Field, 
 having learned accidentally that a woman named 
 Gordon had been buried there in July. Inquiry of 
 the official who had jested over my poor cousin's 
 newly-made grave led to an examination of his book. 
 There he read, " Abigail Gordon, Spinster. Aged 
 20. Birthplace, North Carolina." Col. Carter erected 
 a headstone above the neglected grave, and had the 
 weeds cut down. I was grateful that it was thus 
 honored, even by mistake. Then he went home, to 
 mourn for me in bitterness of soul, as I had for him. 
 A year later he married an orphan cousin who had
 
 2OO Abigail's Waiting. 
 
 lived with his mother from her babyhood, and of 
 whom she was extremely fond. Not even the knowl- 
 edge of this could disturb the full peace of my soul in 
 the thought that he was given back to my yearning 
 heart. I felt sure, although he did not say it in so 
 many words, that he was all the time waiting for me 
 in spirit. 
 
 We were married on New Year's Day. Frank 
 would not lose sight of me again. We brought our 
 children home with us. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Will Moore's copy broke off here, for there was a 
 lapse of several months between this and the next 
 entry. Evidently Mistress Abigail Carter found hap- 
 piness and wedlock unfavorable to the habit of jour- 
 nalizing. On " Oct. 9th," there was a memorandum 
 in a bolder hand. 
 
 " This morning, at half -past six o'clock, our boy, 
 HENRY GORDON CARTER, was born. He is a fine 
 child. Weight, ten pounds. The mother is glad, and 
 doing well. Bless the Lord, O my soul ! " 
 
 The births of three other children were recorded by 
 the same hand within the next six years, and when 
 the youngest was four summers old the mother re- 
 sumed the pen. Homely chronicles, but pleasant, of 
 plantation life, were set down in her genial style ; 
 comic and deep sayings of " the children ; " bits of 
 moralizing ; criticisms of books she was reading, usu- 
 ally "with Frank;" and as time went on graver 
 thoughts upon life and the beyond she felt she was
 
 Abigail's Waiting. 201 
 
 nearing ; aspirations after purer and higher things than 
 the fleeting joys of earth ; until within three leaves of 
 the end of the book a record was set in the middle of 
 the page. 
 
 "May i$t/i, 1830. My beloved liusband passed before 
 me into the visible presence of the Lord this day at sun- 
 set. 7 must -wait yet a little while until my change 
 come. Even so. Father, for so it seems good in Thy 
 sight ! " 
 
 "You wouldn't believe," said dear Aunt Anne, as 
 I softly shut the book, and fell into a reverie, heark- 
 ening to the drip of the February rain and the shrill 
 sigh of the night wind, " that the white jessamine she 
 talks so much about is alive still or another that has 
 come up from the old root and that it blooms every 
 summer ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " I answered, dreamily, my thoughts 
 still roaming back through the twilight vista I had 
 been traversing all the evening, " I do believe it. I 
 could believe, too, that it will never die,"
 
 HOW "MAD MARCY" WAS TAMED. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 JUDGE MARCY, the professor-in-chief of the law 
 
 department of University, was a man of stately 
 
 presence, grave visage, and dignified speech. His 
 wife " the present Mrs. Marcy," as those who re- 
 membered his first spouse styled her was likewise 
 stately, sedate, and rectilinear in ideas and language. 
 " An admirably-matched pair," said the wiseacres who 
 had never made a psychological test of the principle 
 that the globular is not the best figure for snug 
 and economical packing. The wonder was, continued 
 the sage gossips and of gossips, wise and foolish, 
 there is always a superfluity in a college-town the 
 wonder was that a father so learned and a stepmother 
 so exemplary in all the relations of life should have 
 sent forth into society such a harum-scarum romp as 
 the judge's second daughter, Madeline. Laura, the 
 eldest child, was a pensive blonde, with languishing 
 bronze eyes, a straight nose, low, smooth brow, and 
 a captivating drawl, whom gushing sophomores and 
 classic seniors addressed in trochaic and hexameter 
 as each of the Muses in turn, as Sappho, St. Cecilia, 
 and chaste Diana. She never transgressed the pro- 
 203
 
 2O4 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 prieties, kept on amiable terms with her prim step- 
 mother, worked marvellous chairs, and foot-rests, and 
 fender-stools for fancy fairs, and was the " loveliest of 
 created beings " to half the ladies in town, young and 
 old. Dora, Madeline's junior by two years, was a rosy, 
 dimpled darling, all coo, and purr, and smiles, with be- 
 witching shoulders she had a trick of shrugging depre- 
 catingly upon suitable occasions, and pretty hands she 
 displayed in the most artless manner imaginable at the 
 piano, at draughts, and most effectively at backgam- 
 mon. Chess was " too much for her," she lamented, 
 sweetly and frankly. " She had not brains enough 
 for the management of castles, and kings, and queens, 
 and she preferred real to chess knights," archly but 
 shyly. Madeline played a dashing game, and her 
 father was oftenest her opponent. 
 
 " The child has fair, natural abilities," he said, the 
 first time she beat him, who was the ablest chess- 
 player in town or university ; " but she has not been 
 trained to habits of diligent concentration." 
 
 After this he would have her in his study every day 
 for six months to study mathematics under his guide. 
 Mrs. Marcy shook her head dolorously over the scheme. 
 
 " There is no such thing as steadiness in her com- 
 * position, judge. No amount of drilling will repair 
 this radical defect." 
 
 The judge began to think as much when, at the 
 conclusion of a serious lecture upon the importance 
 of geometrical calculations as a regulator of thought, 
 and, indirectly as a balance-wheel to character 
 pending which his daughter had sat mute and respect- 
 ful, her head bent over her diagram-book, while she
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 205 
 
 seemed to scribble mechanically upon a blank leaf 
 she handed him a clever sketch of the pans asinorum, 
 with a ragged, lean donkey, whose despairing face was a 
 caricature of her own, vainly essaying the ascent of the 
 steep sides. He frowned at it and at her, declared his 
 course of lessons at an end and herself at liberty to 
 follow the bent of her own tastes, and when she had 
 gone examined the drawing in grim amusement. 
 
 " She is unique," he said to himself. " It is plain 
 that the mathematical is not her forte. Her success 
 in all branches of science and literature will be like her 
 chess victories a brilliant accident. Poor child ! " 
 
 Madeline would have laughed at the idea of receiv- 
 ing pity even from the parent she loved, and whose 
 partiality for herself she more than suspected. The 
 gay, high spirit that had made sunshine even in the 
 shadiest places of Euclid gilded whatever she looked' 
 upon. Life was a glorious holiday and hers ! She 
 would make the best of the flying hours if only be- 
 cause they were fleeting. And possessing a body as 
 sound and vigorous and instinct with vitality as was 
 her spirit, her pranks were the theme of every tongue, 
 the boast of her admirers, the text from which de- 
 corous censors preached fearful things. Music, in- 
 strumental as well as vocal, " came to her," instead of< 
 being taught. Without knowing the name of a note 
 or learning a rule, she carried off the palm of delighted 
 admiration from all the scientific performers in her 
 circle of musical acquaintances. 
 
 " With a proper tuition she could be worked up into a 
 prodigy," said a would-be art-critic once in her hearing. 
 
 Nobody dared laugh openly at the speech, except
 
 206 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 audacious Madeline, who further horrified the cautious 
 prophet by turning to the piano and whistling clearly 
 and strongly to an ingenious accompaniment beautiful 
 variations of a popular air. 
 
 " Like a veritable mocking-bird ! " cried the major- 
 ity. 
 
 " Like a rowdyish newsboy ! " muttered the opposi- 
 tion. 
 
 The latter would have it that she deliberately 
 planned the outrages upon rule and precedent that 
 continually startled the arbiters of social and maidenly 
 etiquette who kept watch and ward over the old col- 
 legiate town ; that such straining after effect was not 
 only " in miserable taste," but betokened a wilful and 
 malicious disregard of others' feelings and opinions. 
 And when the whisper crept around the shuddering 
 circle that the students in their familiar talk with one 
 another not only dropped the ceremonious prefix to 
 her name, but actually dubbed her " Mad Marcy," the 
 cup of reprobation was full, and mantled with blandest 
 pity for her " poor parents and sisters." The strangest 
 thing of all was that her defenders and retainers were 
 not confined to the ranks of the frivolous and reckless. 
 The distinguished president of the university was apt 
 to be found oftener at her side, listening with relaxed 
 brow and lips to her lively nonsense, or promenading 
 with her on his arm, feasting his eyes upon her ani- 
 mated face, than in solemn, dutiful attendance upon 
 honored matrons and erudite spinsters. And so 
 through the whole corps of professors down to the 
 young gentlemen of the law school, the most studious 
 of whom sought relaxation and refreshment in her so-
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 207 
 
 ciety. With the college boys she was queen para- 
 mount, but that was less singular. 
 
 " Men are such inconsistent creatures ! " sighed the 
 slighted board of condemnation. " How would they 
 relish such behavior as hers in their sisters, wives, or 
 daughters ? Yet after all you will see that they will 
 be chary of serious attentions to her. She is well 
 enough for an idle hour. In their quest for a life-long 
 partner she will be passed by." 
 
 Madeline, hearing most of this through officious tale- 
 bearers, did not trouble herself to contradict the pre- 
 vailing impression. She had more bona fide offers of 
 marriage than Laura and Dora put together, but she 
 had kept the secrets of the discarded swains, and made 
 them her friends forever by this and her sisterly frank- 
 ness. They never called her a " rattle-pated flirt; " and, 
 when they heard the title applied to her by others, 
 chafed angrily at the reflection that the sex of her de- 
 tractors put the thought of personal chastisement out 
 of the question. 
 
 " It makes my blood run cold to see how free that 
 girl is with the young men," said Miss Sophie Slayne 
 one evening at a large party, as Madeline, escorted by 
 an unmarried professor, stopped to speak to a youth 
 who, leaning disconsolately against the wall, bent his 
 fair brows upon the festive scene in a Manfredish 
 frown. 
 
 " I have come all the way across the room to remind 
 you that you have to dance the next set with me, Mr. 
 Toler," she said brightly. " It is very ungallant in you 
 to force me to spur up your memory." 
 
 The youth undid his arms from their hard knot a la
 
 208 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 Booth's Hamlet but knitted his forehead yet more 
 darkly. 
 
 " Excuse me, Miss Marcy, but I was not aware "- 
 
 " That I cared enough for you to take all this 
 trouble ? " put in Madeline. " But you see I do. So 
 you are further indebted to me for a pleasant surprise. 
 We are keeping the set waiting. Come ! Au revoir, Mr. 
 Rileigh ! It is too bad that you're partnerless," nod- 
 ding saucily at the handsome professor as she went off. 
 
 " Now, do you know," resumed Miss Sophie to her 
 crony, with awful emphasis and raising her voice as 
 the music struck up, " I no more believe she had an 
 engagement to dance with that young man Toler than 
 I believe that I had? He is rich and very clever, they 
 say, and she is angling hard for him. He has been very 
 attentive to her for some time past, and some true 
 friend has warned him that he was in danger of com- 
 mitting himself, or he has gone as far with her as he 
 cared to, ano^ to-night he has avoided her in the most 
 marked manner, as you must have seen. But it isn't an 
 easy matter to shake her off, as he will find out to his 
 cost. You saw how she threw herself at his head. How 
 can a woman who so far forgets her self-respect and the 
 dignity of her sex expect respectful treatment at the 
 hands of the men with whom she associates?" 
 
 " She will tame down in time. She means no harm," 
 ventured the crony, timidly. 
 
 Miss Sophie turned upon her sharply. 
 
 " Nothing but death will ever tame that creature ! 
 Disgrace would not. She has grazed it often enough 
 to establish that point. Her friends may thank their 
 stars if she doesn't go clean over the precipice some
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 209 
 
 day, as many a madcap has done before her. Such 
 coarseness and trifling are sure indications of a vulgar, 
 depraved nature." 
 
 " Oh, do be careful ! " whispered the fellow-gossip, 
 in an agony. " I tried to caution you by speaking as 
 I did. Professor Rileigh must have heard you. He 
 gave you such a look as he moved away." 
 
 " I am glad he listened." But, in spite of her 
 doughty tone, Miss Sophie looked scared. " It may 
 serve as a warning. He has been hovering around the 
 poison-flower as giddily as any of them lately. I 
 should have thought a man of his sense would not so 
 demean himself. He may as well understand the po- 
 sition he has assumed in the eyes of the community 
 by his absurd infatuation if he is infatuated. Men 
 are such hypocrites, you never can tell whether they 
 are in earnest or not." 
 
 " If he is really in love with her, he will never for- 
 give us," said the weaker-minded tattler. " That is, 
 if he should marry her." 
 
 Miss Sophie sneered. " Marry her ! I can set your 
 mind at rest on that head. There is about as much 
 likelihood of her becoming Empress of France as Mrs. 
 Rileigh. He may divert himself with her for a while, 
 but Frederick Rileigh knows too well what is due to 
 himself and his family to run the risk of bringing this 
 hoyden into it. His father was a member of Congress 
 for years and is very wealthy and aristocratic, the 
 leader in every public enterprise in his State; and his 
 wife, I have heard, is an elegant woman. One of the 
 sons is an eminent clergyman, one a rising law- 
 yer. Frederick is the youngest. He marry Mad
 
 2io How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 Marcy! It would be equivalent to disinheritance, my 
 dear." 
 
 " I was sure you would not misunderstand me, 
 Rob," Madeline was saying to her partner, looking up 
 in his face with a cordial smile Miss Sophie would not 
 have scrupled to call " wanton." " I could not bear 
 to see you so unhappy. And people were talking 
 about it. I was afraid they would say that we had 
 quarrelled, especially as you did not come near me. 
 I wouldn't for the world have our names joined in 
 such a connection as that. For we are better friends 
 than ever before. I wish I could make you feel this 
 as I do. Balances ! Miss Vass is waiting." 
 
 In his abstraction, Toler, although thus prompted, 
 made a blunder in the figure which Madeline instantly 
 covered by another so ridiculous as to excite the 
 amusement of the whole set. 
 
 " You are too good," said the rejected lover, grate- 
 fully, when the fun had subsided and they were again 
 side by side, awaiting their turn. "Too forbearing 
 with my churlish, sulky mood. I am not worthy of 
 you. I would have tried to make myself so. No, I 
 am not beginning a fresh persecution," for Madeline's 
 gesture was admonitory. " I promised to accept your 
 decision as final, but it is not easy to submit. I wish," 
 with a forced laugh, " that you would marry some 
 good fellow out of hand and end my misery by putting 
 yourself beyond my reach. It would be like curing 
 the toothache by drawing the tooth." 
 
 Madeline's laugh was peculiarly infectious, and it 
 set off a dozen others now, like a merry chime of dif- 
 ferently-toned bells, although no one else guessed at
 
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 211 
 
 the cause of her mirth. Even the woe-begone swain 
 could not resist the influence of the musical peal. 
 
 " Now you begin to look like yourself and to talk 
 sensibly," commented Madeline, taking his arm for a 
 promenade. " I think that would be the surest and 
 quickest remedy for your fancy. I don't mean any 
 disrespect to your attachment, but people do get over 
 these things sometimes, and are none the worse for the 
 experience. I have been wanting to tell you some- 
 thing I have not confided to another human being, not 
 even to my father. I can trust you and I feel as if it 
 was your right. I wish I had been perfectly frank 
 with you last night, but you took me by surprise. 
 Don't look astonished, for Miss Sophie Slayne's eye- 
 glass is upon us. I have been engaged to Professor 
 Rileigh for a month. Miss Sophie, you have the fac- 
 ulty of collecting the most agreeable people in your 
 neighborhood. Haven't you a snug corner here for 
 two more of the same sort ? Where is the professor ? 
 I trusted him to keep you safe until I came back. He 
 is down upon my tablets for the next waltz. If he 
 thinks I am going to follow up all my recreant knights 
 as I did Mr. Toler here, he is mistaken." 
 
 " He is quite able to take care of himself," retorted 
 Miss Sophie, meaningly. 
 
 " Without your help ? So it would seem," Madeline 
 remarked, looking over her tablets. " Don't go, Mr. 
 Toler. If he isn't up to time, I'll press you into ser- 
 vice." 
 
 " That's the way she manages to have a string of 
 beaux at her heels!" snorted Miss Sophie, in a rage, 
 when the professor, looking cool and lofty, made his
 
 212 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 bow in season to his partner. " Was there ever such 
 a brazen face and tongue?" 
 
 " Walk home with me, if you are not too tired," 
 requested Mr. Rileigh, parting with Madeline at the 
 door of the dressing-room ; and answering with a 
 bright glance, she equipped herself accordingly, allow- 
 ing her sisters to ride home without her. 
 
 " Excuse me if I shamble slightly in my gait," she 
 laughed, when they were in the street. " I have on a 
 pair of borrowed overshoes at least two sizes too large 
 for me. I hope I shall not lose them altogether on our 
 way." 
 
 "Were you really engaged to dance with Robert 
 Toler to-night, or was your reminder to him an inven- 
 tion of your own to bring about an interview with 
 him? " asked the professor abruptly, without noticing 
 what she had said. 
 
 She laughed again, joyously and innocently as a 
 child. 
 
 " Pure invention, of course. I thought you would 
 guess as much. I wanted to comfort him a little, he 
 looked such a knight of the rueful countenance. He 
 had the blues horribly, and you know I am mother 
 confessor to half the boys in the university." 
 
 " Toler is no boy, but a man of three-and-twenty, 
 with a man's desires and hopes and a man's weak- 
 nesses," said the other, decidedly. " A man who has 
 moreover the credit of being very much in love with 
 Miss Madeline Marcy. Rumor says also that his suit 
 is not discouraged by her. You may find the office of 
 comforter an awkward one. What ailed the sweet 
 youth this evening ? "
 
 How ''Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 213 
 
 " I won't have you make fun of him, Fred." Made- 
 line was stung by the coarseness of the irony, but 
 answered sportively : " He is a good friend of mine, 
 who does not whine over trifles. We all have our ups 
 and downs in this world, our shadows as well as our 
 sunshine. I hope I did help him over a rough place. 
 If so, I am content." 
 
 " You must confine your ministrations of mercy 
 within a narrower circle in future," pursued the lover, 
 uncompromisingly. '' The work costs you too dear. 
 I cannot have your name bandied from lip to lip again 
 as I have heard it this evening. Nor must Mr. Robert 
 Toler or any other sighing swain have it in his power 
 to boast of favors so freely bestowed as to cheapen 
 their value. The puppy deserves a horsewhipping for 
 his sentimental foolery." 
 
 " Fred, I don't understand you ! " The great dark 
 eyes were full of genuine wonderment as they met 
 his in the moonlight. " You can't be jealous of Rob 
 Toler?" 
 
 In a calmer mood he would have perceived and 
 been mollified by the implied compliment. His irrita- 
 tion laid hold of another part of the sentence. 
 
 " I am jealous of no one, only of your good name, 
 Madeline, which is likely to suffer through your heed- 
 lessness and vanity. It is not strange that care for 
 that should move me to strong language." 
 
 4< It is strange, however, that, knowing me as you 
 do, you should attach any importance to a wallflower's 
 gossip," Madeline was moved to reply. " I take it for 
 granted that you heard nothing worse than a spiteful 
 fling from Miss Sophie Slayne at ' Mad Marcy.' I,
 
 214 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 who have been used to that sort of thing from my 
 cradle, am not likely to take it to heart as you seem 
 to do. Dear Fred, is it worth while to make ourselves 
 miserable because a cross old maid cannot live without 
 scandal?" 
 
 Her coaxing tone might have won him from his 
 angry purpose had her reasoning been less pertinent. 
 He would not confess that he had behaved like a 
 pettish school-boy ; had acted less from rational con- 
 viction than from an impulse of wounded vanity and 
 childish dread of the world's opinion, with an active 
 spice at the bottom of all of the jealousy she had con- 
 sidered so absurd. 
 
 " It is the height of folly and imprudence to give 
 needless occasion for scandal," he said, attempting the 
 argumentative in his turn, but only succeeding in be- 
 ing dogmatic. " Your carelessness in this regard has 
 given your best friends more trouble than you dream 
 of. No one can afford to defy public opinion." 
 
 " Tell me what, you want me to do, Fred. I do not 
 understand generalities." 
 
 Her quiet tone emboldened, not warned him. 
 
 " I object, in the first place, to your familiar bearing 
 to all young gentlemen. It provokes invidious re- 
 marks, besides awakening in the minds of the silly and 
 conceited presumptuous and insulting expectations. I 
 particularly dislike your intimacy, or flirtation, or 
 whatever it may be termed, with Robert Toler. The 
 fellow is in love with you, as I said just now, and you 
 are fostering his passion. I have a decided aversion 
 to being played off against him or any other man, and 
 vice versa. I have excused much in your conduct that
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 215 
 
 would have been culpable levity in another woman, in 
 consideration of your high spirits, your youth, and the 
 early death of your own mother. But the defects of 
 which I speak are grave. I would have my betrothed 
 wife above suspicion." 
 
 Madeline's worst enemies never denied to her the 
 virtue of an exceptionally sweet and generous temper, 
 but there was passion as well as pain in her exclama- 
 tion. 
 
 " ' Suspicion ! ' Fred, you must not use that word 
 in speaking of my father's daughter. Your heart and 
 conscience will tell you by and by, when you are less 
 angry, that you have been unjust to me in what you 
 have said ; have distrusted and misjudged me cruelly 
 you will never know how cruelly. For love's sake 
 I could do and dare everything. For the sake of ex- 
 pediency to quiet false and venomous tongues, to 
 escape envious criticisms I will do and risk nothing. 
 I have never flirted with Robert Toler, and this he 
 knows, if nobody else believes it. You, at least, should 
 credit it. A one-sided compact is worthless. If I 
 trust you, you must also trust me." 
 
 She had struck at the root of his uneasiness. He 
 was afraid to trust his reputation, his honorable name 
 in the keeping of this hare-brained romp. Her beauty, 
 her wild, witching grace of manner, and her sprightly 
 conversation had beguiled him first into love, then 
 into the declaration of a passion his judgment told 
 him all the while was unwise, out of keeping with the 
 dignity of his character and position. He was vexed 
 with himself that, knowing and acknowledging this, 
 he was yet as completely fascinated by the way-
 
 2l6 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 ward rattle as was the " puppy " he affected to de- 
 spise. 
 
 " The question is," he was so insane as to say, 
 "whether I have a reasonable foundation for such 
 trust, whether your antecedents are not such as would 
 rather discourage than invite it " 
 
 She stopped him there. 
 
 " You should have thought of that before you asked 
 me to marry you. But, since the sober second thought 
 has come to you, I thank you for the open expression 
 of it. Remember, I told you from the first that, 
 while I would do my best to please you, I was doubt- 
 ful of success. Look well before you leap next time. 
 Here is the ring you exchanged with me for mine." 
 She pulled it off and gave it to him. " If you will 
 return mine, there will be nothing to remind us of our 
 short-lived comedy of errors." 
 
 Her light tone lashed him to frenzy. He threw the 
 ring she had returned into the muddy street. 
 
 " I call Heaven to witness that this is your work, 
 not mine ! " he said, in a thick voice. " The work of 
 a heartless, unprincipled coquette, who can laugh at 
 the offering of an honest man's love, jest at the wreck 
 of his happiness ! This will come home to you with 
 terrible force one day, if there is justice in heaven or 
 upon the earth. A comedy ! And I have been chief 
 jester ! I was a fool to put myself in your power ! " 
 
 " As you like," responded Madeline, coolly. " Here 
 we are at home. It is too late to ask you to come in, I 
 suppose. Good-night ! " 
 
 He dropped the ring he had worn silently into her 
 hand, without touching it, and still without speak-
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 217 
 
 ing bowed, and walked away before the door was 
 opened. 
 
 Madeline went straight to her father's study, where 
 the fire always burned late. It was midnight, but he 
 was still there, busy at his desk. He nodded consent 
 as her slight pause at the door asked if she might 
 enter, and did not look around again until a light 
 tinkle caught his ear. 
 
 "Don't meddle with the fire, daughter ! " he said, in 
 alarm. " I allow no one to stir it excepting myself." 
 
 " I have not touched it, papa." 
 
 She was crouching upon the rug in the full glare of 
 the red grate, and something in her attitude her 
 fixed gaze into the cavern of fiery coals, or the droop 
 of her head attracted his attention, 
 
 " Are you very tired, .Madeline ? " 
 
 " Very" she said, with emphasis, yet trying to 
 laugh, as she arose to her feet. " I was never so 
 weary before. And it is a bitter night, bitter ! " She 
 kissed him " good-night ! " and left the room. 
 
 "The child looks pale," thought the great juror, 
 going back to his notes. "A sudden chill, probably. 
 I must speak to Mrs. Marcy about it in the morning." 
 
 He forgot it when the morning brought the " child " 
 down to breakfast, rosy and vivacious, a marked con- 
 trast in appearance and conduct to her jaded sisters, 
 who sipped strong tea, and moaned of headache and 
 ennui. The little incident of her visit to his study 
 never occurred to him again. He certainly did not 
 associate it with the communication which Professor 
 Rileigh laid before the board of trustees at their next 
 meeting. He had received an appointment to another
 
 218 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 college, one in his native State, which he wished to 
 accept. He desired that his resignation should take 
 effect so soon as they could supply his place to their 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Miss Sophie Slayne "dropped in" upon the Misses 
 Marcy that evening. Laura was placidly crocheting 
 in the front parlor, with a moustached senior watching 
 her languidly-graceful motions. Dora was exhibiting 
 her pretty hands on the piano, with an enamored 
 junior to turn over the music which was thin, flashy, 
 and fashionable. Through the folding-doors Madeline 
 was visible, deep in a game of chess with her father. 
 
 " I wonder you can look so comfortable and inno- 
 cent ! " was the beginning of Miss Sophie's attack. " Yes, 
 I am talking to you, Miss Maddie, who are playing the 
 dutiful daughter so properly ! Do you know the whole 
 town holds you responsible for the loss of its fairest or- 
 nament the rich and handsome professor ? They say 
 you jilted him, flirted with him in the most outrageous 
 manner, fairly drove him out of his senses and " 
 
 " Out of town ! " supplied Madeline, with a wicked 
 little laugh. " That is a mistake, Miss Sophie. Check 
 to your queen, papa ! This is the second time I have 
 cornered her. Beware of the third." 
 
 " Do you mean to say " continued Miss Sophie, 
 confronting her victim, maliciously "can you look 
 me in the face and say that you don't know why our 
 Admirable Crichton has ' left us all lamenting?'" 
 
 " If you refer to Professor Rileigh 1 , I believe it is 
 because he is wanted elsewhere." 
 
 A beleaguered knight achieved a daring leap for his 
 life under Madeline's fingers.
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 219 
 
 " And because you don't want him here, eh ? " tit- 
 tered the gossip. 
 
 " I ! Oh, yes I do ! He is a prime favorite of mine- 
 I am breaking my heart secretly over the prospect of 
 his departure." 
 
 " Pity some kind friend doesn't hint as much to 
 him ? It might change his purpose." 
 
 "No!" Madeline shook her head positively. "It 
 would have no effect. I told him myself it would be 
 the death of me, but he didn't seem to see the neces- 
 sity of my living. I wish you would entreat him not 
 to leave us, Miss Sophie. I don't know anybody who 
 has more influence with him." 
 
 The professor's aversion to the scandal-monger and 
 his open avoidance of her on all occasions were so 
 well-known that the quartette in the front room 
 laughed in a well-bred, yet amused way, and the judge 
 looked up with an air of annoyance at the repeated 
 interruptions to his game. Even the hardy veteran 
 could not mistake or disobey the meaning of this 
 movement, and retreated to a safe distance. Under 
 her eyes, Madeline won the game and was jubilant 
 over her victory. Raked by a battery of curious and 
 unfriendly regards, she held on her dizzy way during 
 the days that preceded and followed the brief formal 
 farewell call made by Frederick Rileigh upon the 
 family, her father and stepmother included, never 
 over-acting her part, yet never flagging in the sight of 
 others. She had no confidante. To Robert Toler 
 she only said : 
 
 ' ' The professor and I have agreed to disagree, Rob. 
 Forget what I told you, with everything else foolish
 
 22O How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 in our intercourse, and you will do me the only favor 
 I ask in this connection." 
 
 Eighteen months from the night in which she had 
 dropped the ring yet warm from Frederick's hand, 
 into the scarlet cavern of coals, brought her sister 
 Laura's wedding-eve. Rileigh's successor had fallen 
 an easy prey to her classic charms and found favor in 
 the dove-like eyes. Madeline hereafter to be " Miss 
 Marcy " was first bridesmaid. 
 
 44 1 have not ' gone off,' as the English girls say, 
 a bit," she said to herself, when she was dressed for 
 the ceremony. And to make sure of the reassuring 
 fact, she turned the gas-burner so as to throw a 
 stronger light upon her face. " I do not look more 
 than my two-and-twenty years, I flatter myself." 
 
 Straight and pliant as a reed she stood in her flow- 
 ing white draperies, her scarlet sash and the carnations 
 in her hair hardly brighter than her lips, the fine oval 
 of her face untouched by time or sorrow, the quick 
 blood mantling her cheeks as she gazed at the comely 
 picture in the glass. She fully justified at that instant 
 the enthusiastic admiration she had inspired in the 
 breasts of Rob Toler and his confreres excused Fred 
 Rileigh's temporary infatuation. 
 
 " I am glad, yet I should not have expected it," she 
 continued, a wave of softness flooding the tell-tale eyes. 
 "It has been a long time. A longtime and a fierce fight." 
 
 She turned to go to the bride's dressing-room when 
 she espied a package of irregular shape lying on a table 
 near by. It was her bouquet-holder which she had 
 sent to be mended a few days before, the chain having 
 been broken.
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 221 
 
 " Done up in a piece of newspaper, as I live ! " she 
 ejaculated, in disgust. " I must give M. Bluet a les- 
 son in the niceties of white or tissue wrapping-paper 
 and pink twine." 
 
 Undoing the parcel with dainty fingers, a name 
 caught her eye, and she unfolded the fragment with 
 eager care, smoothing it out upon the marble top of the 
 stand with fingers almost as cold. " Fatal Accident!" 
 was the heading of the article in which she read the 
 regrets of the editor and the community at large over 
 the misfortune that had plunged a highly respectable 
 family into the depths of affliction, and quenched pre- 
 maturely the light of a useful and honored life. " A 
 carriage containing the Honorable Edgar Rileigh and 
 his son, the brilliant young professor, Frederick 
 Rileigh, Esq., of - - College, had been upset by 
 a pair of unmanageable horses, and hurled down an 
 embankment. The elder gentleman had escaped with 
 a few bruises. Professor Rileigh had been extricated 
 from the ruins of the vehicle in a dying condition and 
 horribly mutilated. As we go to press," continued the 
 reporter, " the heart-rending news is brought us that he 
 has just breathed his last. We deeply sympathize " 
 
 Madeline read no further then. She folded the 
 paper when she had looked at the date, seen that it 
 was a month old, and that the journal of which this 
 was a part was published in her former suitor's birth- 
 place. She laid it away in a drawer and locked it up 
 from other eyes. Then she put her hands to her 
 temples to still the beating that was taking her senses 
 from her, and tried to think. 
 
 " Why has this been kept from me ? It could not
 
 222 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 have been accidental. Everybody hereabouts must 
 have heard of this he was so well-known and this 
 item must have been copied into our papers, although 
 it escaped my eye. Have people known my secret all 
 the while I believed I was hiding it ? A month ago ! 
 And all this while I have never dreamed If he had 
 loved me as I did him, his spirit would have come to 
 me would have spoken to mine. For now he knows 
 all! Fred! Fred!" 
 
 She stretched her arms to empty air in the stifled 
 cry. For one moment her brave soul bowed and 
 shook in the tempest of memory and despair. The 
 next, she had turned her back upon the past, said to 
 sorrow, " Not now. I have a life-time in which to 
 mourn ; " to pride, " To-night I need you more than 
 ever, 'my best of helpers." 
 
 Dora, who was the other bridesmaid, shed a sun- 
 shower of becoming tears during the ceremony. Mrs. 
 Marcy's stern eyes were wet at the anticipated part- 
 ing with her favorite; even the judge was visibly 
 moved, while aunts, cousins, and the great host of 
 bosom friends who had rallied about Laura at this, 
 the supreme moment of her life, wept more or less 
 copiously. Madeline's head did not bow except 
 slightly during the prayer ; her eyes glittered, and 
 her teeth gleamed in a play of radiant smiles she 
 seemed to strive but ineffectually to restrain within 
 the bounds of conventional decorum. 
 
 " You actually laughed at the very moment in which 
 they were pronounced man and wife," said a senti- 
 mental miss, reproachfully, afterward. " I could 
 hardly believe my own eyes."
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 223 
 
 " I could not help it," Madeline declared. " Miss 
 Sophie Slayne was weeping into her laced handkerchief 
 by mistake, and just then recollecting herself, snatched 
 it away from her eyes and pulled from her pocket a 
 plain one that she had brought along for use." 
 
 " It would have been more complimentary to me 
 at least, would have looked better, had you not 
 seemed so happy at getting rid of me, Maddie," re- 
 gretted Mrs. Laura Foster, as her sister helped her on 
 with her travelling dress. 
 
 " And how ridiculous it was in her to insist upon 
 everybody calling her ' Miss Marcy ! ' " interjected 
 Dora. " Absolutely childish ! " 
 
 " I thought you were pleased at marrying Charley 
 Foster, Laura," said Madeline. " I love you quite as 
 well as if I had whimpered." 
 
 " I know it, dear," conceded the newly-fledged ma- 
 tron, with amiable condescension. " And your spirits 
 have never been tamed by love or sorrow." 
 
 One wet, windy evening, six months after Laura's 
 marriage, Judge Marcy read his newspaper beside the 
 study fire, the lamp-light falling softly upon his strong 
 features and the massive head covered with silver 
 hair. He was not a man whose mien invited famil- 
 iarity, yet while he read, a slight figure glided unheard 
 in at the door behind him, cast her arms about his neck, 
 and a face all tears and smiles like a meteor seen through 
 a mist, came between him and the Evening Gazette. 
 
 "Papa, papa, he is alive and he loves me! Help 
 me to bear it !" cried Madeline, hysterically, clinging 
 to his breast as she would have done to her own mo- 
 ther's. u He wants me, too ! Read ! "
 
 224 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 She put a letter into his hands, and sinking to her 
 knees at his feet, leaned upon him, watching his 
 countenance as he perused the sheet she had given him. 
 Mystification, intense and unmingled, was the reign- 
 ing expression until he reached the bottom of the first 
 page ; then the rugged lineaments softened into pity 
 and sympathy. Surprise and perplexity followed, and 
 the last leaf concluded, he put his hand gently upon 
 the head resting against his knee. 
 
 " My dear child ! I am very sorry for all this. I 
 heard of the accident when it occurred, but had no 
 idea it was so serious " 
 
 " Papa, I read that he was killed ! And I have 
 believed it all along, and I loved him better than I 
 did my own life ! " A great sob finished the sen- 
 tence. 
 
 " Poor girl ! Did you speak to no one of it ? " 
 
 She shook her head. " How could I ? I thought 
 my right to mourn him had been taken from me." 
 
 The judge mused more and more gravely, his hand 
 fast in hers. 
 
 " My daughter," he said, gently at last, " I honor 
 you for your fidelity. I grieve with you at the thought 
 of what you have both suffered. But do you under- 
 stand all that Rileigh says in this letter ? That he is a 
 helpless cripple. ' A useless, distorted hulk,' he calls 
 himself. He has been chained to his bed for six months 
 and is just able to creep out into the open air upon 
 crutches. His very handwriting is evidence of his 
 feebleness. I should not know it for his." 
 
 Madeline had the letter and was passing her fingers 
 lightly and lovingly over it.
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 225 
 
 " Who can wonder at it ? " she said. " His right arm 
 was shattered." 
 
 The judge caught at the word. " And a man needs 
 a whole strong right arm for the support and defense 
 of a wife. Dear," his voice trembling slightly, despite 
 his iron will, " a father may surely hesitate to consign 
 his best beloved child to such a fate. In asking you 
 to be his wife, he would bind you to years of weari- 
 some drudgery, of care and toil and wearying demands 
 upon strength and patience. You are not fitted for 
 the position of nurse to this or any other man." 
 
 " Papa, don't oppose me in this. I shall marry him 
 in any event, for I am of age, but don't send me from 
 your house without your blessing. J\Iy arm is strong, 
 and my spirit not only willing but yearning to enter 
 upon the blessed service you call wearisome. He does 
 not say ' Marry me,' you see ; only that he loves me ; 
 that he has loved me through all, and that he longs 
 for me every hour. If he cannot come to me I shall 
 go to him be to him feet, hands, head, everything. 
 God is very good to have kept him alive for me. I 
 am so thankful for this, and that he needs me. I can- 
 not be as sorry as I should be for what has happened. 
 I shall write to him this very night, papa, and I want 
 you to do the same. This is no time for foolish hesi- 
 tation or girlish reserve, for " with a prideful tender- 
 ness very pathetic to the listener, in the reiteration 
 " he needs me, you see, papa ! " 
 
 10*
 
 PART II. 
 
 " SHE was fairly warned. I wrote to her so soon as 
 Frederick informed me of the renewal of his engage- 
 ment with her, telling her plainly what her future lot 
 was to be should she persist in her intention of mar- 
 rying him. I described without reserve his state, 
 physical and mental, dwelling emphatically upon the 
 effect his incurable lameness and the sufferings of the 
 past half year had had upon his spirits and temper. No 
 woman in her right senses could, after reading that 
 letter, become his wife with the remotest expectation 
 of happiness. When she stood by him at the altar 
 she knew that she was tying herself for life to a cross- 
 grained clog." 
 
 Thus spoke the Rev. Arthur Rileigh, walking up 
 and down his father's spacious parlor, his hands 
 clasped behind him, his bosom swelling under his 
 strait-breasted vest, in the proud consciousness that 
 he had risked his brother's anger and the disfavor of 
 his sister-in-law in the conscientious discharge of an 
 unpleasant duty. The family sat in full conclave and 
 festive array, awaiting the arrival of the newly-wedded 
 pair. Mrs. Rileigh, Sr., a comely dame in black moire 
 and lace cap, spoke next. 
 
 " I do hope she will take good care of my poor 
 Fred. But what Frank writes of her has led me to 
 226
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 227 
 
 doubt whether his brother has made a judicious selec- 
 tion of a nurse. I am afraid she is very giddy." 
 
 " She is likely to be sobered speedily," laughed 
 Miss Felicia, the only daughter and youngest child of 
 the household. " I am sorry for her, yet relieved that 
 the burden of Fred's illnesses and humors is to fall 
 upon somebody besides mamma and myself. It is 
 queer though that any young girl should have had 
 the courage to undertake the task. I should say pos- 
 itively that she must have been absolutely agonizing 
 to enter the estate of matrimony, and that offers were 
 distressingly scarce, but for Frank's report of her 
 beauty and popularity. The whole thing is an 
 enigma." 
 
 " There are two sides to the story of her belleship," 
 said Mrs. Arthur Rileigh, with an air of extreme dis- 
 cretion. " I have an acquaintance Miss Slayne who 
 is a resident of the same town with these Marcys. 
 When the news of this extraordinary betrothal was 
 imparted to me I wrote to her guardedly and confi- 
 dentially for information respecting Miss Marcy. I 
 destroyed her answer which was also confidential, im- 
 mediately after reading it, without even showing it to 
 Arthur. If the result of my inquiries had been satis- 
 factory, I need hardly say that I should have been 
 delighted to make it known to you all. I can only 
 observe that mother has judged correctly in surmising 
 that the young woman has been very g'ddy, and that 
 she has also manifested her accustomed charity of 
 thought and speech in applying no harsher term to 
 her career. I fancy Miss Marcy was not sorry to leave 
 the scene of her many escapades, even at the cost of
 
 228 How "Mad Mar cy" was Tamed. 
 
 becoming the wife of a hopeless cripple. Indeed, his 
 helplessness may have its advantages. Unless I have 
 been grossly misinformed, she would not be tolerant 
 of control or espionage." 
 
 " She shall play none of her scandalous pranks 
 here," returned Rileigh ptre, his gray forelock brist- 
 ling at the thought. " I'll see to that ! As Arthur 
 has said, she knew what she was undertaking when 
 she married Fred, and if he cannot hold her to her 
 duty and home, I will." 
 
 " You needn't alarm yourself, papa. Fred can fight 
 his own battles," Miss Felicia said as flippantly as be- 
 fore. " I would rather be caged with forty porcupines 
 than marry one man like him. He has worried all the 
 flesh off my bones and the nap off my temper already. 
 Of course the girl must have had some hidden motive 
 for marrying him, and may deserve and need sharp 
 discipline for this and other follies ; and I don't feel 
 amiably disposed toward her for forcing herself into 
 our family, but I do pity her, as I remarked, sincerely." 
 
 " I pity Fred more. I learn that her sobriquet in 
 her native place is ' Mad Marcy,' and that it was well 
 bestowed," observed Mrs. Arthur, discreetly and de- 
 murely as before. 
 
 She had a very round, white face, brown hair, pale 
 blue eyes, and small features ; was plump and short, 
 and reminded Madeline the first time she saw her, 
 and always afterward, of a chestnut-worm. She had 
 brought the Rev. A/thur a handsome dowry ; she was 
 rather active than 'popular in his parish, but main- 
 tained a high reputation for propriety and prudence, 
 and was a chief favorite with her mother-in-law.
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 229 
 
 " Since the poor afflicted boy was bent upon marry- 
 ing, I wish he had chosen as wisely for himself and 
 for us all as you did, my son," sighed the matron, ad- 
 dressing her eldest-born. " But I suppose that could 
 hardly have been expected." 
 
 " Maybe Fred's wife really loves him. You know 
 they were engaged before two years ago. Frank says 
 she is very charming and her devotion to his brother 
 beautiful." 
 
 The suggestion, modestly and timidly uttered, came 
 from a young girl who sat in the shadow of Mrs. 
 Rileigh's chair. She had a sweet but not pretty face, 
 and blushed painfully at the laugh with which Felicia 
 wheeled upon her. 
 
 "You dear little simpleton ! If she loved him, why 
 did she break the engagement? If I were in your 
 place, I should not relish Frank's extravagant lauda- 
 tion of his new relative-in-law. What if she should 
 reciprocate his admiration by preferring the sound, 
 handsome brother to the injured one?" 
 
 " I am not afraid," responded the other, but her 
 smile was hardly sincere. 
 
 Discreet Mrs. Arthur had her say again. " From 
 what I can gather it was Fred, and not the lady, who 
 retreated from the former engagement, and he was 
 justified in his action by the unscrupulous flirtations 
 of his betrothed. I trust, however, Alice, for your 
 sake at least, that she will give up the habit, now she 
 is fairly married." 
 
 The sound of a carriage stopping at the door ended 
 the discussion. The gentlemen hastened out, the 
 ladies following them as far as the hall.
 
 230 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 The bridegroom came up the steps, supported by a 
 brother on each side, and close behind them was his 
 wife, carrying his crutches. They were light and ele- 
 gantly wrought, with crimson cushions at the top. 
 The wraps and air-pillow, without which Frederick 
 could not have travelled with any degree of comfort, 
 were in the hands of a servant, and Madeline had 
 picked up her slight burden mechanically, and with- 
 out a thought of the possible consequences of her ap- 
 pearing before her new relatives thus encumbered. 
 As a matter of course, all eyes were bent upon her 
 when hasty salutations had been exchanged between 
 Fred and his friends. She stood in the full glare of 
 the hall light, her lithesome figure displayed to striking 
 advantage by her closely-fitting travelling dress, the 
 dark fur with which it was trimmed heightening the 
 effect of her rich brunette complexion ; her eyes spark- 
 ling, lips apart and quivering with excitement and 
 pleasurable anticipation. The incongruity of the 
 badge of deformity with this impersonation of health, 
 vigor, and symmetry could not fail to impress the 
 most obtuse of the spectators. Felicia was foremost 
 in the expression of this. 
 
 "You have invested her with the insignia of office, 
 I see, Fred," she said, as she kissed Madeline. 
 
 "Arthur, Frank, one of you should have relieved 
 her of these ! " exclaimed Mr. Rileigh, offering to take 
 them and evidently annoyed. " I am ashamed and 
 shocked that we should have allowed this, my dear 
 Mrs. Frederick." 
 
 " You need not be, sir," Madeline said, with frank 
 cheerfulness. "They have been my especial charge
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 231 
 
 all through the journey. Anything but an unpleasant 
 one, too, I assure you." 
 
 She would have fitted one under her husband's 
 arm, but he caught it from her, adjusted it to its 
 place, steadied himself upon it and held out a hand for 
 the other, his face pale with anger and mortification. 
 
 " Let me pass, if you please," he uttered, making a 
 movement toward the parlor. 
 
 Madeline fell back out of his way to the side of 
 Frank's betrothed. 
 
 " We ought to be friends," she said, softly, taking 
 the hand of the blushing girl. " I have known you as 
 long as I have Frank, and we are already cronies 
 sworn allies." 
 
 The latter clause caught Fred's ear as he let him- 
 self down groaningly, with his brother's help, to the 
 sofa heaped with pillows. 
 
 " Allies ! " he echoed, with a harsh laugh. " That 
 implies the existence of an opposing or obnoxious 
 power. Am I to understand "- 
 
 " That you are at home again ; that your friends 
 are overjoyed to see you, and that, by and by, when 
 you are rested, and appreciate what you have accom- 
 plished by the journey that has fatigued you, you will 
 be the happiest man alive," interposed Madeline, sau- 
 cily, arranging his cushions and putting away the hair 
 from his forehead. 
 
 " Don't be absurd ! " he muttered, ungraciously, 
 and Mrs. Arthur lifted one fat shoulder, with one 
 arched eyebrow, in dumb, horrified show to her 
 mother-in-law. The gesture said : " When I was a 
 bride, I would have been drawn by wild horses sooner
 
 232 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 than use such language to my lord in the hearing of 
 others. But what did I tell you ? " 
 
 Felicia carried Madeline off to change her 
 dress. 
 
 " You don't mind Fred's bearish moods, I see," she 
 remarked on the stairway. " It is well you are so 
 philosophical, for this is his normal state. He had 
 always a villainous temper, but he used to make some 
 show of controlling it. Now it is awful ! I am glad 
 you are not sensitive. If you were, he would kill you 
 by inches." 
 
 " I think not. I have wonderful vitality," was Made- 
 line's rejoinder in her gayest tone. More gently she 
 added : " Seriously, I trust I shall never forget that 
 it is pain, not temper, that speaks when he seems im- 
 patient." 
 
 " That is a comfortable view to take of the matter, 
 certainly. I hope you will hold fast to your resolu- 
 tion. For human nature cannot bear friction forever. 
 Life or patience must give way. These are your rooms. 
 They are the pleasantest in the house. Fred would 
 not be satisfied if he had not the best of everything, 
 and since he was hurt all the rest of us have had to 
 give way before his whims. He is a perfect Turk, as 
 I suppose you have found out by this time. Dinner 
 will be ready in half an hour. Can you find your way 
 back to the parlor alone, or shall I send Arthur or Frank 
 for you your real master being out of the question ? 
 How odd to be obliged to supplement a bridegroom 
 in that way ! " 
 
 " I will come down alone, if you please," said Made- 
 line, still pleasantly. " And you must not make a
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 233 
 
 j- 
 
 stranger of me. I wish to take my place as a daughter 
 of the house without delay." 
 
 She dressed rapidly but with care. Her quick eye 
 had noted the elegant apparel of the ladies below 
 stairs and she selected from her trousseau a light silk, 
 with lace trimmings and a sweeping train that lent 
 queenliness to her stature, decorated neck and arms 
 with a set of handsome jewelry Fred's bridal gift 
 and without trusting herself to think for one moment 
 when a final look at the mirror had told her all was 
 right, ran down to the drawing-room. 
 
 " Actually bounded down the steps like any school- 
 girl," commented Mrs. Arthur to her husband that 
 night. 
 
 Her father-in-law met her at the door, offered his 
 arm with much ceremony and led her to a seat beside 
 Fred's sofa. Her husband answered her smile by a 
 half frown and an impatient movement of his head. 
 
 "You will excuse my travelling dress, mother," he 
 said shortly. " It does not signify how / look. But 
 you needn't have taken so much pains to make the 
 contrast more marked, Madeline." 
 
 And she, smitten with sudden loathing of her brave 
 attire and longing for sackcloth, ashes, and a safe cor- 
 ner in which she could cry out her homesickness, her 
 disappointment and her dreads, yet replied, playfully 
 the Rileighs thought pertly : " You are fishing for a 
 compliment now, Fred. As if Miss Slayne did not 
 call our marriage 'the union of mind and matter! ' You 
 should have heard the girls of our town rave about his 
 ' etherialized face ' and ' spirituelle eyes,' " she con- 
 tinued to Felicia.
 
 234 How " Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 "You are acquainted with Miss Slayne, then?" 
 queried Mrs. Arthur, with what was to Madeline un- 
 meaning emphasis. 
 
 " I have known her ever since I can remember," she 
 replied, unsuspectingly, and thereby sealed in her 
 hearer's minds the truth of that lady's testimony 
 touching herself. 
 
 Frank ended the awkward pause that followed by a 
 rattling description of the pretty girls he had met at 
 the wedding, and Madeline had time to steady her 
 pulses and gather her scattering wits to remind her- 
 self anew what a pitiable wreck in nerve and muscle 
 was the man she had married ; to rally about his 
 image the great wealth of love and compassion that 
 surged up in her heart when she remembered the 
 handsome athlete who had wooed her two short years 
 ago, and looked upon the pallid face and distorted 
 body before her now. She had never been sick her- 
 self, but this very ignorance of physical infirmity in- 
 vested the sufferer with sacredness ; awed her into 
 reverential pity in the presence of the mysterious 
 anguish. She put away from her the recollection of 
 the fact reverted to freely by Fred's own family, 
 namely, that his disposition was naturally jealous and 
 his temper irascible. She never owned even to her- 
 self that upon which her father had dwelt strongly in 
 his dissuasive talk with her the evening she received 
 her lover's first letter, and which she learned after her 
 marriage he had also expressed, but more delicately, 
 to her betrothed. 
 
 " It is gross, inexcusable selfishness in him to seek 
 to tie you to the battered hulk he describes here," the
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 235 
 
 judge declared after re-reading Fred's account of his 
 present condition. " The man has lost his senses, or 
 is devoid of common humanity. It is monstrous ! " 
 
 Madeline put her hand upon his lips. 
 
 " You are angry, papa, and do not know what you are 
 saying, or I would not bear that, even from you. It 
 is the ' honest hour ' with him. I used to be sure it 
 would come to him some time. The hour in which 
 he understands how truly I love him and that he can- 
 not live without me. Do you know what I shall write 
 to him before I sleep ? That if there is enough of his 
 body left to hold his soul, I will marry him ; that if he 
 cannot come to me, I will go to him without scruple 
 and without fear." 
 
 She had not known until the day after the wedding 
 that they were to live in his father's house. Fred had 
 property of his own enough, he represented to Judge 
 Marcy, to maintain his wife in modest comfort, and 
 Madeline's portion of her mother's dowry was settled 
 upon herself. She had hoped for a neat, tasteful cot- 
 tage, in the dear seclusion of which she could devote 
 herself to the holy work of making life as beautiful to 
 her invalid husband as the assurance of his love had 
 made it to her. Fred shrank visibly from the thought. 
 His father's residence was spacious, his rooms in it 
 luxurious and already arranged to suit his peculiar 
 needs. The cares of housekeeping would consume 
 much of Madeline's time, engross her attention often 
 when he most needed her. Her father had broadly 
 insinuated that he was moved by self-interest in re- 
 newing his suit, yet if he knew his own heart he 
 consulted her happiness in every plan. He did desire
 
 236 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 to have as much of her society as possible he for 
 whom life had so little else of brightness but he did 
 not want to cage his mocking-bird. He would have 
 her free, unbound, save by the silken leash that would 
 after every flight bring her back to his arms. His 
 mother and sister would relieve her of the care of him 
 for several hours each day or evening, and Frank be 
 only too happy to escort her to concert, opera, or 
 party. She must not cease shining because she was 
 his wife. 
 
 "You shall make conquests by the score, and come 
 home to talk over your victories with me, ma belle. 
 People shall not say you are buried alive. And 
 through you I shall keep up with the age, don't you 
 see ? It will be far better for me to make loop-holes 
 of your bright eyes than to lie moping like Diogenes 
 in his tub, ' the world forgetting, by the world forgot.' " 
 
 This was the song of the honeymoon, and while he 
 chanted it he felt and believed what he said. But 
 nature and habit together are well-nigh invincible. 
 He had the grace to apologize to his wife for his ill- 
 humor on the evening of their arrival, pleading ex- 
 treme fatigue and great bodily pain as his excuse. 
 Perhaps Madeline's forgiveness was too cordial and 
 ready, for he grew daily more lax in his guard over 
 himself, more exacting in his demands upon her time, 
 patience, and strength. Until his accident, there had 
 been no gayer house in the city than the Rileighs ; 
 and now that he was, to quote his sister's words, 
 " quite off their hands," she was resolved to make 
 good lost time and opportunities. Madeline received 
 her bridal calls in person " when Fred could spare
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 237 
 
 her." He persistently refused to appear below stairs 
 upon such occasions. 
 
 " Would it not be wiser to delegate the whole duty 
 to mother and Felicia?" said Mrs. Arthur to the 
 "giddy " bride. " It looks so odd to see you alone in 
 such a position, and excuse me, my dear sister 
 hardly proper, as society is now constituted. The world 
 demands such circumspection in a married woman. I 
 actually excuse me, but I am nothing if not frank 
 I actually overheard two wild young men the other 
 evening pronounce you a ' bewitching grass widow.' " 
 
 Instead of being stunned and shamed, Madeline 
 laughed outright. 
 
 "Am I so verdant, then? I must treasure that up 
 for Fred. How he will enjoy it ! " 
 
 She took good care, however, not to tell him of the 
 equivocal compliment. She was learning to shun such 
 reefs as she had already struck, and to watch narrowly 
 for others. In reality the reception evenings, in which 
 Felicia delighted, were to her a foretaste of purgatory. 
 Fred insisted upon her bedecking herself in her best 
 robes ; was critical of the cut of a dress, the shade of 
 a ribbon, the placing of a flower. When she was ready 
 to go down stairs, he would admire her in the same 
 breath that bewailed his own helplessness and evil 
 fate. Sometimes he wept outright, and when she 
 offered consolation, bade her " go and be happy. That 
 is. forget my existence for a little while. I ought to 
 have died before I asked you to marry such an ugly, 
 blasted log." 
 
 True to her promise of keeping him apprised of 
 what was going on in the gay world he shunned, Made-
 
 238 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 line, so soon as she could escape from the parlors, would 
 fly to his room with a merry story of the sayings and 
 doings of the company, and such bits of gossip as she 
 had gleaned for his amusement. He was greedy of 
 news, yet prone to lament, when all was told, that he 
 had pined in pain and ennui while she was enjoying 
 herself below. A faithful servant generally sat in the 
 ante-room in Madeline's absence from his chamber ; 
 now and then Mrs. Rileigh would bring her crochet 
 needle and worsted basket to her son's side, and doze 
 and prose away the evening. Felicia never offered 
 her services, asking coarsely, when Frank suggested 
 the propriety of her doing so : " What else Fred's wife 
 was there for?" But Mrs. Arthur insisted frequently 
 upon " performing her share of the sacred duty." Made- 
 line soon noticed that after each of these exhibitions of 
 sisterly attachment, Fred was more irritable and un- 
 reasonable with her than when another had been his 
 custodian. 
 
 " I hate that woman, with her face like an overboiled 
 dumpling, her honey- and -butter voice, and prying 
 ways ! " he had once said to his wife, and for awhile 
 she had ascribed his dissatisfaction with herself to his 
 annoyance at being compelled to submit to disagree- 
 able companionship. She discovered her mistake 
 through a sharp reprimand administered one night 
 when she would have condoled with him upon the 
 infliction. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't press me to leave you alone 
 with Amelia again, dear," she said. " I know she is 
 smoke to your eyes and vinegar to your teeth. You 
 always look wearied out after one of her visitations."
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 239 
 
 " What nonsense are you talking now ? " he asked, 
 roughly. " I wish you were one-tenth as consci- 
 entious in the discharge of your home duties as she 
 is, and cared as little for the attentions of other men 
 than your husband. She is a good, pious woman, 
 whose example you would do well to imitate, instead 
 of trying to poison my mind against her. I shall be 
 glad when this hubbub of company is over. Your 
 head is more topsy-turvey than when you came here, 
 and that is saying a good deal." 
 
 " I only meet your friends because you desire it, 
 Fred," the astonished wife had the self-command to 
 answer. 
 
 " I understand that is one of your stock-phrases. I 
 am sick of hypocritical cant." 
 
 She could get nothing more of explanation from 
 him, but from that hour the thorns thickened in her 
 path. It was a late day for her to begin a study so 
 difficult as circumspection in word and look as in 
 deed, but she addressed herself to it without hesi- 
 tation, feeling that her husband's health and her own 
 peace of mind might be the forfeit of indiscretion. 
 She said not a w r ord to any human being of her ef- 
 forts and her failures; held up her head as gayly, 
 smiled as radiantly, as when her heart lay bleeding 
 under the knife of the sudden, angry parting from 
 her just betrothed lover, or dumb and faint with the 
 belief that he had died without forgiving or remem- 
 bering her. Gradually and adroitly she withdrew 
 from general society, seldom appearing in public ex- 
 cept on Sabbath, when she sat beside her mother-in- 
 law in the family pew of the church presided over by
 
 240 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 the Rev. Arthur, and on fine days seated in a close 
 carriage beside her invalid spouse. Fred's sufferings 
 were often most acute at night ; and when compar- 
 atively free from pain he could not sleep well, through 
 excess of nervous excitement. It did not seem to 
 occur to any of the family, except Frank, who might 
 protest and fume, but was impotent to work any 
 change in what he deprecated, that while they pitied 
 Frederick, on hearing his account of the hours he had 
 heard strike while tossing upon his torture-couch, 
 compassion was also due her who was during them 
 all his wakeful, busy attendant. If she was worn and 
 had an indifferent appetite in the morning, the trifling 
 circumstance passed unremarked by word of inquiry 
 or sympathy. It seemed to be nothing to them that 
 this girl, with her exuberance of vitality, accustomed 
 from her babyhood to hours of exercise daily in the 
 open air, and to sleep soundly at night without 
 dream or awaking, was now bound down to the dis- 
 piriting routine of a sick-nurse's life, with none of the 
 professional nurse's privileges. For all that the 
 closest observer could tell, it was less than nothing 
 to them that she bore the heavy brunt, morning, 
 noon, and night, of Fred's peevishness ; his fits of 
 anger, violent or sullen ; his incessant requests for at- 
 tention and diversion ; the sarcasms, the sneers, and 
 causeless reproaches which they know were the por- 
 tion of whomsoever fate condemned to be constantly 
 near him and at the mercy of his caprices. They 
 held on their way, and left her to that she had cho- 
 sen without an effort to soften its harsher features. 
 " She knew what she was doing when she married 

 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 241 
 
 Fred," the mother would say, almost as often as did 
 her selfish daughter. "Arthur warned her faith- 
 fully." 
 
 Which circumstance served as an ample excuse for 
 their neglect of her, legitimate release from all duties 
 which had devolved upon them as Fred's relatives and 
 nurses while he was single. 
 
 "It is her business," was the invariable reply to 
 Frank's assertion that " it was a deuced hard lot for 
 any woman." " She has only herself to blame." 
 
 Madeline had been for eight months an inmate of 
 the Rileigh mansion, when Frank, overtaking her on 
 the stairs one evening, stayed her by seizing her arm 
 and was shocked to feel how slight it was. 
 
 " This is going too far, Maddie," he said, feelingly. 
 " Close confinement this hot weather is telling upon 
 your strength. Fred must be made to hear reason. 
 For your good, if not for his own, he must be taken 
 to the mountains or sea-shore." 
 
 " Don't speak of it, please," replied she, lowering 
 her voice. " He would miss the comforts of home, 
 and you know his aversion to meeting strangers. I 
 am none the worse for having less weight to carry 
 in the summer, but decidedly the more comfortable. 
 Don't you remember the man who longed in the dog- 
 days to shake off his flesh and sit in his bones a 
 little while?" 
 
 " You'll be a skeleton in reality if you don't take 
 care of yourself," pursued the other. " Be reasonable 
 for once. Alice and I are going out for a moonlight 
 sail on the river. Come with us. I will send mother 
 up to look after Fred."
 
 242 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 Madeline shook her head, with a grateful smile into 
 the kindly anxious face. 
 
 " You are very good to me, dear brother. But my 
 poor boy has a bad headache to-night, and I must sing 
 or read it away. Good-evening, and a pleasant sail to 
 you ! " 
 
 " Fred's abominable selfishness is killing that woman 
 by inches," proclaimed Frank, indignantly, returning to 
 the parlor. "And we shall not be guiltless if we do 
 not interfere. I never saw another woman so changed 
 in the same time. I have been begging her to go with 
 us, Alice, but she cannot leave that pampered despo x t 
 up-stairs." 
 
 " I shouldn't think Alice would feel complimented 
 by your anxiety to increase the size of your party," 
 said Felicia's over-ready tongue, while Mrs. Arthur 
 looked unutterable things. " When you find your 
 knight missing some day, don't say I didn't open 
 your eyes or try to." 
 
 "Absurd!" retorted Frank, contemptuously. "I 
 say nothing of the taste and delicacy of such insinua- 
 tions, Felicia, for there can be but one opinion on that 
 head. I only object to your evasion of the question 
 of our duty to Fred's wife. She cannot take care of 
 her health and he will not. I should be ashamed to 
 have her father or her sisters see her. Such a bril- 
 liant, beautiful creature as she was when she came to 
 us ! And look at her now ! I don't believe she 
 weighs a hundred pounds. I took hold of her arm 
 just now, and it is as small as a baby's, without the 
 plumpness." 
 
 Mrs. Arthur cleared her throat prudishly.
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 243 
 
 " Is not this a question to be considered by your 
 brother rather than by yourself, Franklin ? " 
 
 " Does he consider anything except the ease of his 
 precious, patched-up body ? " cried Frank, in generous 
 heat. "If this glorious woman is to fall a victim to 
 his selfishness, I shall be tempted to wish he had been 
 killed when he went over the cliff." 
 
 Felicia's voice was loudest in the outcry that fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 " I have often thought you were fast coming to that 
 point." 
 
 Too angry to reply, Frank accosted his betrothed : 
 " If you are ready, Alice, we will go." 
 
 She arose, without a word to him, said " Good-even- 
 ing ! " all around, and they left the house together. 
 But when he would have turned down the street lead- 
 ing to the river, she held back. 
 
 " I prefer that you should take me home, Frank. 
 Then I think Mrs. Fred Rileigh will go with you." 
 
 "Alice ! " 
 
 " I mean what I say," she went on, her voice thin- 
 ning as it heightened, after the manner of very amia- 
 ble women when they are fairly enraged. " I have 
 seen this drawing nearer and nearer ever since she 
 came to your house, seen how you admired her and 
 she you. I don't wonder she is getting thin and pale, 
 but it isn't with waiting upon her husband. She is 
 pining with love for you.' 
 
 " There ! you have said enough," said honest Frank, 
 quietly. " No one shall slander a good, pure wo- 
 man while I can prevent it. I had given you credit 
 for more justice, more charity, more common sense.
 
 244 How "Mad Marcy" ivas Tamed. 
 
 When you are calm, you will see for yourself how pre- 
 posterous is the charge you have made against me and 
 against my sister-in-law." 
 
 " Never ! " beginning to sob. "And it is very rude 
 in you to intimate that I am a fool or in a passion be- 
 cause you have forced me to speak plainly. This rup- 
 ture must have come sooner or later. I have known 
 it ever since that first fatal evening. I have not had 
 a moment of real happiness since this bold, designing 
 creature crossed my path. But when it comes to 
 your wishing your brother dead it is time to act." 
 
 Great was the amazement and deep the regret of 
 the Rileighs when Frank announced to them next 
 day the dissolution of his engagement, declining 
 however to give the particulars of the rupture or the 
 cause. 
 
 " There's something in this more than a common 
 lover's quarrel," said Felicia, sagely, to her mother. 
 "And I will probe it to the bottom." 
 
 Without waste of time she betook herself to Alice's 
 abode, ostensibly as a mediator, in fact as a spy, and 
 came back laden with a big budget of scandal a 
 story that, leaking out through various channels, in 
 three days had reached nearly every quarter of the 
 city. It was excluded from Fred's apartments during 
 this time. He was laboring under a brief but severe 
 attack of illness, and Madeline did not leave him ex- 
 cept for her meals. Disregarding, in her solicitude 
 on his account, the moody silence and sulky or tart 
 speeches that were the replies to her few remarks 
 while at table, she had no suspicion of the event that 
 had set the tongues of a thousand gossips to wagging
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 245 
 
 and stirred up in the breasts of her relatives-in-law 
 deadly distrust and dislike of herself. It was, there- 
 fore, with no especial misgivings beyond a fear that 
 the society of the discreet pastoress might work its 
 usual consequences in vexing her husband, that she 
 obeyed his directions to leave him with Mrs. Arthur, 
 while she herself took an hour's rest. Seeking a spare 
 bed-chamber in the third story as the most quiet in 
 the house, since Frank's room was the only one near 
 ever used by the family, and he never came home un- 
 til evening leaving door and sashes open to admit 
 what little air might be abroad on the stifling after- 
 noon too weary and heavy with sleep to make any 
 change in her dress, Madeline threw herself across the 
 bed, and in less than a minute was in a profound 
 slumber. 
 
 The hour went by two and she had not stirred. 
 Mrs. Arthur felt the cords of her own home duties 
 tugging at her conscientious soul more and more im- 
 peratively, and finally, urged by Fred, mounted the 
 stairs in quest of the delinquent. Bars of gold pene- 
 trated the shutters, and lay, still and bright, upon the 
 white-robed figure on the bed. 
 
 " What an indecorous but studied posture ! " 
 thought the immaculate matron, pausing to note 
 the pretty feet, from one of which the slipper had 
 fallen to the floor, the head pillowed by the bare 
 arms, Madeline having been too tired to think of any 
 other support. "Suppose Frank had passed the 
 door ! May be that was what she expected. He may 
 talk of her worn looks, but she is handsome enough 
 still to be a snare to most men a very Delilah ! "
 
 246 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 In the excess of her virtuous indignation, she shook 
 the sleeper by both arms I am not sure but she 
 pinched them, for the temptation was great. Mad- 
 eline's eyes opened widely. 
 
 " Oh ! is it you, Amelia? " Then, laughing nervously 
 Mrs. Arthur thought guiltily " I was dreaming 
 about Frank, and I really thought you were he. I was 
 ascending Mount Vesuvius all alone and toppled over 
 on the verge of the crater down ! down ! when sud- 
 denly I heard him laugh and he jumped out from 
 behind a rock and caught my arm. Thank you for 
 waking me ! My arms are fast asleep still," sitting up 
 and rubbing them. " The nightmare was induced by 
 something I was reading to Fred to-day about the last 
 eruption of Vesuvius. Have I overslept myself? 
 How is Fred ? Why didn't you call me before? Has 
 anything happened? " noting, as her eyes became ac- 
 customed to the mingled gloom and glare of the room, 
 the awful severity of the round white face, the omi- 
 nous set of the thin lips. 
 
 " Nothing new. But your husband, of whom you 
 were not dreaming, wishes to see you," was the tre- 
 mendous rejoinder. 
 
 " He is worse ! " ejaculated Madeline, and without 
 further stay or parley flew breathlessly down-stairs. 
 
 He was worse, for his mother was with him piling 
 the pillows behind him in the posture that always in- 
 dicated distress for breath, and his complexion was 
 livid. 
 
 "Darling, what is it?" cried the terrified Jpife. 
 " Why did you not send for me " 
 
 She had stooped to put her arms about him and lift
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 247 
 
 him higher upon the lounge, when he struck her in 
 the face with his clenched fist a blow so true and 
 heavy in the might of his fury that it dashed her to 
 the floor. In falling, she caught the epithet he hurled 
 at her with an oath. The scar of that wound never 
 left her heart. 
 
 On the following day a card was brought to Mad- 
 eline as she sat in the darkened room beside her hus- 
 band, whose fit of rage had been succeeded by a night 
 of pain and a day of utter prostration. 
 
 " Who is it ?" he asked, sulkily, a suspicious gleam 
 lighting his sunken eyes, as she half arose, then re- 
 sumed her chair as if irresolute. 
 
 " My father and mother. Shall I ask them up here, 
 or excuse myself and let them call again when you are 
 better?" 
 
 Her steady, somewhat monotonous tone was not 
 unpleasant to an ear unacquainted with her animated 
 intonations, but Fred moved uneasily at the sound. 
 
 " What a ridiculous question ! " he retorted, testily. 
 "Would you have them think you a prisoner? Go 
 down at once. Tell Mary to listen for my bell." 
 
 He was ashamed to glance at the dark bruise upon 
 her cheek, but he tortured himself when she had gone 
 with speculations as to how she would account for it 
 to her parents. Would she expose his brutality of act, 
 and the baser cruelty of the charge he was even yet 
 but half convinced was groundless, so deftly had Mrs. 
 Arthur done her benevolent work of enlightenment, 
 so easily had the* prepared train of jealousy in his 
 breast been fired ? 
 
 Mrs. Rileigh and Felicia were in the parlor with
 
 248 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 
 
 other guests when Judge Marcy and his wife entered, 
 and Madeline found the four engaged in conversation 
 and already upon excellent terms of acquaintanceship. 
 
 As Fred had foreseen, the judge's first inquiry, after 
 he had kissed his favorite, was : " My daughter, what 
 have you been doing to your face?" 
 
 Mrs. Rileigh's stealthy look at her daughter met 
 one as full of apprehension, and a sigh of relief es- 
 caped the bosom of each at Madeline's unembarrassed 
 reply 
 
 " I had a fall, papa. You know I never walked as 
 safely through life as most people do." 
 
 " I never saw a more marked improvement in any 
 woman," said Mrs. Marcy, who was renowned for her 
 sagacity and excellent judgment of character. 
 
 They were back in their hotel, having spent the 
 evening with the Rileighs, and the subject under dis- 
 cussion was her husband's second daughter. 
 
 " Her manners are the perfection of refined repose," 
 the lady continued. '.' She has acquired dignity of 
 demeanor and stability of thought. I am exceedingly 
 gratified. I thought this marriage would tame and 
 tone down her wild spirits, if anything could/' 
 
 " True, my dear." The judge spoke musingly, and 
 there was a regretful, yearning look in his face. " I 
 have lost, my madcap forever, I see. As you say, she 
 is an elegant, dignified woman. But I wish I knew 
 by what process the change was wrought." 
 
 Ten years later Madeline Rileigh laid in the grave 
 the warped frame to which she had ministered so faith- 
 fully and so long and returned to her girlhood's home. 
 Her step-mother was dead, but the old house was
 
 How "Mad Marcy" was Tamed. 249 
 
 scarcely the gayer for the coming of the new and 
 younger mistress. Her footsteps fell without sound 
 in hall and upon stair, as they had done upon the floor 
 of the sick room ; her voice was subdued with even 
 cadences ; her very smiles rare and chastened. Before 
 his brother had been a twelve month dead, Frank Ri- 
 leigh, the most petted bachelor of his circle, asked her 
 to marry him. 
 
 " You have not your peer among women," he said. 
 " I, who have watched you so long and closely, should 
 know this. Let my love restore some of the lost 
 brightness to the life so early and wantonly blighted." 
 
 She laid her hand upon his head, as a mother might 
 caress a foolishly-fond son. 
 
 " There is not a gray hair here, Frank, while I have 
 at least a hundred. You call yourself a year my senior, 
 when in reality I am fifty years older than you. I love 
 you too well, dear brother, to do you the wrong of 
 marrying you. I can never love or hope again in the 
 way you speak of. The germ of possible affection for 
 any man was scorched out years ago. And," with a 
 faint smile more mournful than tears, " trees killed by 
 lightning don't put up from the root, you know."
 
 LOIS GRANT, AND HER REWARD. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ONE of the prettiest and most striking of the many 
 picturesque bits of scenery to be found in the moun- 
 tainous township of Berkeley was the Stony Ford 
 Bridge and its surroundings. A hill arose abruptly on 
 each side of the creek ; one crowned by a venerable 
 stone church, erected, it was said, in Queen Anne's 
 time, a well-peopled graveyard, and the smart, new 
 academy, but a year old, white, with green blinds and 
 a sharp upstart of a cupola, which faced the antiquated 
 building from the opposite side of the public road. 
 The other and less rocky eminence was green with 
 fields and orchards and capped by a spacious farm- 
 house. A long portico ran along the front, covered 
 with roses and clematis and honeysuckles all ablow, at 
 the season of which we are writing, and a flower-gar- 
 den separated it from the dusty highway. It was a 
 healthful situation and a beautiful one, the abode of 
 thrift and comfort, and, judging from the excellent 
 condition and the extent of mansion and outhouses, 
 of wealth likewise. The weathercock upon the great 
 barn a gilded horse at full gallop was visible for 
 miles around, and had no compeer in the estimation 
 251
 
 252 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 of the admiring population living within sight of it, 
 until the district school committee mounted a rooster, 
 colossean in dimensions, saucy in attitude, and yellow- 
 est gilt in color upon the pert spire of their model 
 edifice. 
 
 The rival vanes were shooting back the slant sun- 
 beams at one another on a breezy June afternoon 
 when a man came out of the school-room door, locked 
 it behind him, put the key into his pocket and walked 
 slowly down the road to the bridge. This was a sub- 
 stantial structure, fifteen feet high and as many broad, 
 spanning in one massive arch a rapid torrent, celebrated 
 in the early summer for the number and size of the 
 trout that lurked and leaped in its hollows and eddies, 
 and in late winter for the height and violence of its 
 freshets. The bridge was a match for these last, and 
 had held its own for many years, said the lichens that 
 had collected in slow gray circles upon the red sand- 
 stone of which it was built and the block of marble lot 
 into the parapet bearing the date of its completion. 
 The pedestrian leaned over this in his halt upon the 
 causeway. Many other passengers on foot and in 
 carriages paused every day upon the same spot, and 
 looked up the rapids into the far dark recess formed 
 by perpendicular walls of rock and arching hemlocks, 
 lit up by ghastly streaks of foam upon the boiling 
 waters ; then down into the lighter vista of willows, 
 golden in the spring-time, bright green all summer, 
 through which the stream found its way into the low 
 country. But the solitary man traversed this route 
 twice, sometimes four times a day, usually without 
 casting a glance either to the right or the left, and he
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 253 
 
 stood now, one hand clasped within its fellow laid 
 heavily upon the parapet, his head bowed upon his 
 breast, his eyes seeming to search the depths of the 
 seething current as it entered the archway. Very 
 white almost effeminate looked the hands by contrast 
 with the reddish-brown of the stone, and his face was 
 many shades fairer than the bronzed tint prevalent in 
 the complexion of the people of the district hardy 
 sons of the plough, who feared neither vertical sun 
 nor the midwinter sleet. The features of the lounger 
 were cast in a manly mould, and his erect port, broad 
 chest and shoulders enforced commendation and re- 
 spect from those who might otherwise have scoffed at 
 his tastes and habits, in whose eyes a bookworm was 
 utterly contemned, and a puny scholar found no favor. 
 He had not the mien of one with whom it was safe to 
 trifle or to bandy words. His gray eyes melancholy 
 now to moodiness, could grow very black and fierce 
 under the knitted brows, and his handsome mouth 
 could be scornful and stubborn as easily as it could 
 smile.' His dress was scrupulously neat, and the cir- 
 cumstance of his wearing it lent a touch of style that 
 nameless, potent charm to the coarse gray sack and 
 pantaloons, almost threadbare at the seams. He 
 would have looked the gentleman in the disguise of a 
 workman's blouse and paper cap, and there was some- 
 thing in this rough suit, the only one he owned that 
 was comfortable for warm weather wear which en- 
 hanced the independent grace of his carriage and as- 
 serted his lordly independence of Fashion's dictates as 
 interpreted by those who were now his associates, his 
 supreme indifference to the criticism of those he did
 
 254 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 not acknowledge as his equals. In this respect, his 
 manner belied the inner man, as he intended it should. 
 No mortal living cared more for outward show, longed 
 more greedily than did he for popularity and such dis- 
 tinction as talent and personal attractions can purchase. 
 These David Rodman conceived the world owed 
 him. Those who liked him least confessed that his 
 abilities and scholarship were of no mean order, and 
 that his noble figure and face would have made amends 
 in the eyes of the multitude, for comparative poverty 
 of mental gifts. He had carried off the highest honors 
 of his Alma Mater at his graduation three years be- 
 fore ; for one brief day, been lionized almost to his 
 heart's content ; had one hasty, intoxicating draught 
 of the renown and applause that were his dream by 
 day and by night; yet here he was, at the age of 
 twenty-three, the teacher of a country " academy," 
 with a salary that barely fed and clothed him and paid 
 the very moderate fee for his tuition, out of school 
 hours, in the office of a provincial lawyer in the village 
 two miles away. The young man walked this distance 
 and back five afternoons in the week, no matter how 
 weary, or what the weather might be, returning to his 
 farm-house lodgings at nightfall, bringing with him 
 one, two, or three ponderous tomes, which he sat up 
 into the small hours to study. Had his physical health 
 been less firm he must have succumbed to the enor- 
 mous labor and fatigue of his self-prescribed course of 
 preparation for the career he had chalked out for him- 
 self. His energy matched his ambition, and in his 
 sanguine moods he prophesied great and desirable re- 
 sults from the combined forces.
 
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 255 
 
 Not that he ever allowed himself to doubt that he 
 would ultimately reach the goal of success and fame. 
 But there were hours and days in the which he rebelled 
 angrily at the fate which obliged him to undermine 
 the opposing walls instead of vaulting over them ; 
 when the wish for money and influence was a passion, 
 and a mad one. 
 
 He would sell his soul to be master of these, he said, 
 this afternoon blind to the beauties of the scene ; 
 deaf to the wooing voices with which Nature bade 
 him enter her pavilion, and be calmed if not com- 
 forted. 
 
 " Kept down ! " he muttered surlily, grinding his 
 heel into the flooring of the bridge. "Compelled not 
 only to climb unaided, but to build the ladder by which 
 I would mount." 
 
 Kept down ! That was ever the text of his gloomy 
 musings. Kept down by his plebeian birth and his 
 poverty. It would have been difficult to trace the 
 origin of ideas and ambition seemingly so incongru- 
 ous to his lineage and early education. His father, a 
 small farmer, had died before David's birth, and his 
 mother, whose only strength was in her affections, sus- 
 tained by these had fought single-handed against 
 penury until the marriage of her elder child, a daugh- 
 ter, to an industrious mechanic gave her a home for 
 the remainder of her days. Her boy her pride and 
 darling, then a fine, handsome lad of sixteen met 
 with no encouragement in word or act from his brother- 
 in-law to pursue the studies he had commenced with a 
 steady eye to the practice of a learned profession. 
 
 " It was queer," said the puzzled artisan, " where
 
 256 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 the fellow ever picked up his stuck-up notions. Learn- 
 ing was a good thing for rich people to spend money 
 upon, but it was a blamed expensive luxury and ought 
 not to be thought of by one who had to earn his liv- 
 ing." 
 
 He offered, therefore, to take the youth into his 
 shop as an apprentice, and when the proposal was 
 declined with more haughtiness than gratitude, " only 
 hoped" this to the mother, who was present during 
 the conference " that the fool would not hang him- 
 self before he had played out the hull length of his 
 line." 
 
 " My mother can trust me," rejoined David, proudly. 
 
 " If she does, she is the only person as will," an- 
 swered the irate machinist. 
 
 " You are mistaken, my good sir," the boy said, in 
 smiling insolence ; " I believe in myself. I shall never 
 receive alms from you nor ask assistance from any one 
 else." 
 
 Nevertheless, his mother had secretly helped him 
 through his collegiate course by means of the sale of 
 her little property and sundry small gains from needle 
 and knitting-work. David had noted the receipt of 
 these remittances in his memorandum-book. Some 
 day he would repay her with interest, compounded 
 after a rule of his own. 
 
 That day had never seemed further off than it did 
 at present. His preceptor, a man of sound sense and 
 respectable attainments, had complimented him upon 
 his proficiency in legal lore the preceding day. 
 
 " I can teach you nothing more," he admitted. 
 " You must apply for a license when your school-term
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 257 
 
 is ended. You could pass an examination creditably 
 in any law-school in the country." 
 
 "And then?" said David briefly. 
 
 The lawyer looked puzzled, and hesitated. " The 
 truth is, Rodman," he broke forth at length in friendly 
 bluntness, " your talents are thrown away upon this 
 community. Should you put out your shingle in this 
 town or any other within fifty miles of this place, you 
 would have fewer clients than if you were a preten- 
 tious, illiterate pettifogger. I would take you into 
 partnership if I could, but I am as poor as a church- 
 mouse, you know. You should take an office in the 
 city, and bide your time. There's an opportunity 
 waiting for you somewhere, and you should be on the 
 look-out. Haven't you influential friends who could 
 give you a lift into notice? When you are once seen 
 the rest will follow. You have within yourself the 
 elements of success." 
 
 " So has the pearl hidden in the oyster," returned 
 the student, with a smile more sardonic than gratified. 
 " But it cannot pry open the jaws of its prison." 
 
 " An office in the city," he repeated aloud, recur- 
 ring to the conversation while he hung over the para- 
 pet. " Who would be fool enough to trust me for a 
 quarter's rent, I wonder? 'Bide my time,' indeed! 
 What if starvation and the debtor's prison come to 
 me before the golden opportunity Curtis so patron- 
 izingly assures me is waiting for me somewhere? An 
 indefinite locality that, and one very far ahead of me, 
 I fancy." 
 
 At that instant a light footstep struck the bridge 
 behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder in an-
 
 258 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 noyed expectancy of interruption. He was in no 
 humor to play the gallant to simpering Chloe, or dis- 
 cuss neighborhood gossip with her mother, and he 
 knew the step for a woman's. 
 
 The intruder was a stranger to him, and a lady. 
 Her dress, although inexpensive in material and mod- 
 est in fashion, her black straw hat, banded with crape, 
 her dainty gauntlets and parasol would have set her 
 apart for his notice among Chloe and her comrades, 
 had not her even, gliding gait and quiet self-possession 
 indicated her familiarity with carefully-graded pave- 
 ments and the unobservant crowds she met thereupon. 
 A city lady she was well-dressed and graceful, but, 
 the same glance showed him,not very young nor in the 
 least pretty. She was short of stature, and very slen- 
 der, with a dark skin and irregular features. Her 
 mouth and nose were too large, her eyes too small, 
 and her forehead low. David's regards, after the one 
 swift look, were returning listlessly to their survey of 
 the hurrying stream, when a sudden flaw of wind tore 
 down the gorge, snatched the lady's veil from her hat 
 and swept it past him over the parapet, lodging it upon 
 a willow branch projecting far over the creek. Rod- 
 man caught at it as it flew above his head, and failing 
 to touch it ran down the slight slope of the crossing 
 and around the abutment below toward the tree from 
 the highest peak of which fluttered the sable pennon. 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself, I beg. Please do not 
 try to get it ! " called a sweet, tremulous voice from 
 the bridge. 
 
 " It is no trouble to me," he returned, laconically, 
 springing upon a low bough.
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 259 
 
 It bent so far under his weight that the looker-on 
 again exclaimed in deprecation, then held her breath 
 in terror, mingled with admiration, as he made his 
 way rapidly yet cautiously to the swaying topmost 
 limb and drew himself along it within reach of the 
 prize. She noted, moreover, the care with which he 
 disentangled it from the twig, and that he folded and 
 put it into his bosom lest it should be injured in his 
 descent She met him upon the bank, coloring and 
 smiling, but still self-possessed. 
 
 " You are very kind. I am much obliged to you. 
 But I am sorry I have subjected you to inconvenience 
 and danger," she said, receiving the trophy he pre- 
 sented with his best bow. 
 
 "The inconvenience, as you call it, was a mere 
 nothing, and there was no danger at all. I am glad 
 the tree intercepted the veil," was his reply, gravely 
 polite. 
 
 He touched his hat again, and returned to his 
 former position upon the bridge. The stranger was 
 going up the hill in the direction of the farm-house, 
 and he would not embarrass her by his company, 
 would show her her error if she considered him a 
 common rustic without breeding or tact. "If^she 
 were an acquaintance, I would give her my arm," he 
 thought, watching the straight little figure on its way 
 to the top of the toilsome ascent. " What a humbug 
 is conventionality ! " Yet in his heart he knew that 
 he reverenced and feared it. 
 
 Half an hour elapsed before he presented himself 
 in the supper-room in response to the shrill summons 
 of the horn blown upon the porch. The family was
 
 260 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 collected about the table, and directly opposite his 
 vacant chair sat the owner of the vagrant veil eating 
 her meal as composedly as if she had taken tea in the 
 same place three hundred and sixty-five times a year 
 for a decade at least. 
 
 " We have had an addition to our household while 
 you were away," remarked Mrs. Bracy, the motherly 
 farmeress. " Miss Grant, Mr. Rodman." 
 
 Miss Grant's eyes lit up with a smile of recognition. 
 " Mr. Rodman and myself have seen each other before, 
 Mrs. Bracy," she said, in the pure, pleasant intonations 
 he had noticed in their earlier interview. " My veil 
 blew off as I was crossing the bridge. He chanced to 
 be standing there and was so kind as to bring it back. 
 to me." 
 
 The directness and ease of her style pleased him. 
 She did not exaggerate the service he had rendered 
 her into heroism, while she accepted it as a signal 
 favor and a step toward acquaintanceship. " A lady," 
 he decided, anew, " and the species is a rarity here- 
 abouts." 
 
 Her appreciation of his agreeable qualities and 
 gentlemanhood was apparently as ready, and in less 
 than a quarter of an hour they were chatting freely and 
 merrily. His first impression of her was correct. She 
 was from the city and had always resided there except 
 when absent upon a foreign tour and at various water- 
 ing-places. These last she had frequented as she had 
 taken the sea voyage, in company with an invalid 
 aunt, whose adopted child she was, and their journeys 
 had been in quest of health, not recreation. 
 
 This he learned incidentally through questions
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 261 
 
 asked and observations dropped by Mrs. Bracy. She 
 had known the elder Miss Grant many years before, 
 and it was this circumstance which had induced the 
 niece to apply to her for summer board when the 
 death of her relative left her free to choose a retreat 
 for herself. She had followed the letter proposing 
 this plan so quickly that Mrs. Bracy had not had time 
 to communicate the news of the expected arrival to 
 her gentleman lodger. He had slept in the village a 
 couple of nights, while his final examination at the 
 hands of his friend the lawyer was going on, and Miss 
 Grant had been domesticated with her present hostess 
 for twenty-four hours. 
 
 " She is a nice, kindly little creature," ruminated 
 Rodman, in his own room, opening his books for his 
 nightly studies when the party below had broken up. 
 " Not particularly intellectual, but reasonably intelli- 
 gent gifted, I should say, with excellent common 
 sense and a thoroughly good temper. It is a pity she 
 is not prettier, but there is something attractive about 
 her, despite her plain face an air of refinement and 
 purity more uncommon than mere prettiness. It is 
 lucky for me that she is not younger and gayer. I 
 have not time to undertake a brisk flirtation just now. 
 I call her comfortable an elderly-sister personage 
 who will help make this dull old house endurable." 
 
 Miss Grant slipped at once and without friction or 
 jar into the habits of the farmer's family even to the 
 early breakfast, noon-day dinner and six o'clock tea. 
 But, little by little, the place began to show marks of 
 her occupancy. New and tempting delicacies were 
 compounded by her hands, or under her directions,
 
 262 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 out of materials which are abundant upon every farm 
 custards, syllabubs, velvety creams, omelettes and 
 cakes the names of which Mrs. Bracy never heard be- 
 fore. The table gradually lost its characteristic of 
 rude abundance in that of elegant plenty ; the furni- 
 ture in the stiff, airless best parlor, left the spots to 
 which the several articles had been rigidly condemned 
 since Mrs. Bracy's wedding-day, and fell into positions 
 that made the apartment formal no longer. The 
 vault-like closeness was dispelled by currents of per- 
 fumed air from clover meadows and flower-beds that 
 had leave to rove through the windows all day long, 
 and David soon acquired the habit of repairing thither 
 every afternoon on his return from school, in the con- 
 fident expectation of finding the ladies cozily seated 
 in the cool, green shadow of the vines draping the por- 
 tico, engaged with their needles always busy and al- 
 ways cheerful ready to talk to him if he was dis- 
 posed to be social, and as amiably willing, if he was 
 silent, in weariness or thoughtfulness, to let him alone, 
 going on with their gentle murmur of conversation in 
 a subdued key, while he stretched himself upon the 
 sofa and seemed to doze or read at the windows over- 
 looking the orchard. He became very fond of the 
 good genius of the household in the course of a month ; 
 confided to her his dreams, his prospects, and his dis- 
 couragements more freely than he had ever done to 
 any one else. She was an inviting listener, and so 
 tactful in her sympathy, so unobtrusive, yet so sincere 
 in her interest in whatever he chose to impart of his 
 inner life and outer obstacles ; so hopeful in her prog- 
 nostications of his future, and resolute in her belief
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reivard. 263 
 
 that failure was an impossibility, that he could not 
 deny himself the treat of letting her understand what 
 he had overcome and the great things he meant to 
 accomplish. 
 
 " You never had a brother, I think you said ? " in- 
 terrogated he, one evening as they sat together upon 
 the steps of the portico. 
 
 So bright was the moonlight, and so clear the at- 
 mosphere that they could distinguish across the val- 
 ley, the glitter of the academy watch-bird, and the 
 solemn gleam of the stones in the churchyard, while 
 the continuous flow of the creek over the rocky ford 
 filled up the intervals of silence which occurred in 
 their talk. 
 
 " No ! " The accent was not exactly sad, but she 
 sighed softly after saying it. 
 
 " It is a pity ! " regretted David. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you would be a nonpareil of a sister. 
 There is much said and sung about woman as man's 
 inspiration. Commend me, instead, to woman as his 
 rest and his comforter. She should be the moon, not 
 the sun of his heavens appreciative rather than ur- 
 gent ; a sedative, not a stimulant." 
 
 " I am somewhat surprised to hear that from you," 
 said Miss Grant, looking down at a cluster of roses he 
 had plucked for her a moment before. "I fancied 
 you would admire brilliant women, such as are learned 
 in literature and skilful in accomplishments." 
 
 The shrug that prefaced his reply would have done 
 credit to a beau blast by the beauties of all climes and 
 fifty years of successful gallantries. " My dear Miss
 
 264 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 Lois" everybody in the farm-house had dropped the 
 ceremonious " Miss Grant " u have pity upon me ! A 
 learned woman, and especially a talkative bas bleu is 
 my favorite detestation. I would sooner marry a 
 loving, gentle girl who could not write her name. My 
 wife should the gods ever vouchsafe me that crown- 
 ing blessing of fallen man must be a true fireside 
 angel, not loud or voluble or self-assertive, but a shel- 
 ter to me in a weary land ; one whose beneficent 
 office it shall be to unbend the long-used bow, not to 
 strain it into severer tension. Such are the wives for 
 whom men arc ready to lay down their lives who are 
 most fondly cherished and most bitterly mourned. 
 The queens of society are lamented by society at 
 large, after the world's style of regret. They have 
 lived for the circle outlying the sphere of home-loves 
 and joys and griefs; and verily I say unto you they 
 have their reward such as will never be yours, pure 
 and tender spirit." 
 
 He had never seen or conversed in propria persona; 
 with three brilliant women in his life, or with one 
 queen of society, but he had heard and read of such 
 beings, and nobody who listened to his discourse 
 upon the topic could have guessed at his inexperience. 
 
 Certainly Lois Grant did not. Sincere and unpre- 
 tending in nature and conduct, she was ever slow to 
 detect affectation in another. She took David Rod- 
 man at his own valuation, so far as talent and aim 
 were concerned, and had already begun to concert 
 schemes in her mind for his happiness and advance, 
 ment. Up to to-night she had believed that she 
 thought of and planned for him as one friend might
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 265 
 
 for another of the same sex. She had never had an 
 acknowledged suitor, and, stranger still, never fancied 
 herself in love. Existence had been a very practical 
 affair with her, and a very grave one. A prisoner 
 from her fifteenth year to the couch or easy chair of 
 her sick aunt, she had learned in the wearisome ser- 
 vice lessons of patience, humility, and self-sacrifice 
 which should have been of signal advantage to her in 
 after life, so hardly were they acquired. She had no 
 leisure for girlish follies and pastimes little tempta- 
 tion to girlish dreaming. But for her large, affec- 
 tionate heart and exhaustless store of quiet energy, 
 she would have degenerated into a misanthropic 
 grumbler or mindless automaton before she was 
 twenty-five. She never questioned the justice of the 
 assertion often repeated in her hearing, to wit, that 
 she owed all the duty she could pay her aunt, as a 
 recompense for her guardianship of a penniless orphan. 
 When the invalid querulously threatened her with dis- 
 inheritance for some trifling fault or blunder, she 
 received the rebuke in silence or with a mild dis- 
 claimer of any unworthy motive in the services she 
 rendered. 
 
 " You have done more for me already than I had a 
 right to expect," she would say in grateful truthful- 
 ness, the genuineness of which even the captious 
 censor could not dispute. " I have never imagined 
 that I was to become your heiress, that your death 
 would make me any richer than I am now. It would 
 be an unreasonable as well as an unfounded antici- 
 pation, since you have other relatives as near akin to 
 you as I am." 
 
 12
 
 266 Lo is Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 Others thought the same. Miss Grant was known 
 to be eccentric, and while the amount of her fortune 
 was generally understated, the popular impression 
 was that no private individual would get more than 
 a moiety of it. She professed to be fond of public 
 charities; gave liberally to them while living, and re- 
 peatedly alluded to her design of endowing an " Old 
 Ladies' Home," or a " Woman's Hospital." Her 
 behavior to her dependent ward strengthened those 
 who knew them in the belief that she would have to 
 provide for her own support after the guardian's de- 
 mise. 
 
 When Lois the younger had passed her twenty- 
 ninth birthday, the sick woman died, leaving her 
 niece and namesake her sole legatee, and to an estate 
 so handsome that enterprising bachelors and consoled 
 widowers, who had not esteemed it an " object " to 
 notice the poor relation, began to rub their eyes and 
 their wits in profound consideration of the most fea- 
 sible and least awkward method of teaching her for- 
 getfulness of their previous neglect. Before they had 
 fairly decided upon the manner of their siege, she dis- 
 appeared buried herself in the country, leaving 
 the direction of her retreat a profound mystery. 
 Such palpable cupidity was too much for her gen- 
 tle charity, and her upright disposition revolted at 
 their late and eager sycophancy. Partly to escape 
 their persecution, partly to recruit her strength after 
 her recent trial, and the tedious season of watchful- 
 ness that preceded it, she sent off her letter to Mrs. 
 Bracy, and followed it two days afterward. She was 
 safe here from fortune-hunters and holiday friends,
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 267 
 
 since she was careful not to inform her hostess of the 
 alteration in her circumstances, and not another soul 
 in the township had ever heard of her prior to her 
 appearance at the hill farm. So well did she keep 
 her secret that the rumor of her good fortune had not 
 been bruited in the household. She passed among 
 the inmates of the homestead as a sweet-tempered, 
 social little woman, verging upon old-maidism, ex- 
 quisitely neat in her person and habits, and with a 
 marvellous deal of " faculty " in domestic affairs. 
 From certain things that had escaped Rodman in 
 their confidential talks, she knew that he deemed her 
 almost as poor as himself, and that the simplicity of 
 her dress and unostentatious behavior had wrought 
 in Mrs. Bracy's mind the like conviction. This was 
 as she would have had it. She would be loved and 
 esteemed for intrinsic merit, or live unloved and un- 
 noticed. She actually gloried in the consciousness 
 that Mr. Rodman's liking for her and his unfeigned 
 desire to possess her esteem and confidence were her 
 honest gains. She suited him in many respects and 
 won daily upon his regard. She had dared whisper 
 as much to herself before, but this evening he had 
 said it. 
 
 David, seated at his ease, his back against a column 
 of the piazza in a position that gave him a full view 
 of her, observed that her plain features were softened 
 by the moonbeams into a nearer approach to come- 
 liness than he had believed possible. Her small 
 hands played nervously with her bouquet, her white 
 dress flowed over the steps in graceful folds, and the 
 honeysuckled doorway framed the picture. " A neat
 
 268 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 crayon sketch," he reflected, critically. " But one 
 that could not be worked up in colors without spoil- 
 ing the effect." 
 
 He found the situation agreeable verging upon 
 the fascinating the more inviting since his oppor- 
 tunities of love-making were exceedingly rare no\v-a- 
 days. In college he had achieved quite a flattering 
 reputation as a promising amateur in that line of in- 
 nocent amusement, but the bouncing damsels of 
 Berkeley were not available for flirtation according 
 to his fastidious notions. The hands he pressed must 
 be shapely, and not hardened by sweeping and but- 
 ter-making ; the tongue that faltered the responses to 
 his fervent periods must not trip in grammar, nor be 
 apt in provincial slang. He did not long to kiss lips 
 that were freely and laughingly held up to meet his. 
 The flavor of such a courtship would be to use his 
 figure too strong for his palate. For he could never 
 forget that he was a gentleman by a freak of nature, 
 if you will, since his birth and breeding were assuredly 
 not aristocratic, but nevertheless a gentleman and 
 he cultivated an originally nice taste into squeam- 
 ishness, lest he should forfeit, in the minutest par- 
 ticular, his title to the character. As I have said, he 
 really liked Lois. If she were not irresistibly at- 
 tractive, she pleased him generally, and his self-love 
 was fed by her respectful admiration for himself. As 
 he pondered upon this last and very strong point, the 
 tone of his fraternal affection grew warmer. Had she 
 been younger, many degrees handsomer, more clever 
 and witty, and very many thousands richer than she 
 was poor little thing ! he could have loved her with-
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 269 
 
 out an effort. As it was what harm could come 
 from letting her know how elevated was her stand 
 in his imperial estimation ? It would make her hap- 
 pier, be quite an event in her sober, monotonous 
 history, and his mood waxed benevolent. 
 
 She did not lift her face, indeed it sank further into 
 shadow as he took her trembling fingers into his. " I 
 wish I dared tell you how much I think of you, Lois. 
 You will let me call you that, will you not ? I seem to 
 have known and loved you so long, years upon years. 
 I hate to be reminded by that formal ' miss ' how new 
 is our real intimacy. May I leave it off when there is 
 no one by to take me to task for my familiarity ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He stooped lower than was needful to catch the 
 monosyllable. " Lois, Lois," he repeated, in the most 
 musical of his always rich tones. " It is a sweet name. 
 I wish mine was more worthy of your lips. But you 
 will say it for me once, just to let me hear if it can ever 
 be made tolerable, won't you ? Say it after me, like a 
 good, obedient child David." 
 
 She obeyed, laughing now in a sort of troubled yet 
 joyous way that should have warned him not to go 
 on. 
 
 It is not in all, perhaps, not in most men, to be 
 generous at this stage of mock or real wooing, and 
 generosity was not upon the list of David's weaknesses. 
 Knowing, as he began to do, that Lois's reception of 
 his advances was earnest, however sportive might be 
 his humor, gallantry and vanity combined to push him 
 further. 
 
 " Thank you," he murmured. " I am too well sat-
 
 270 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 isfied with the result of the experiment ever to let 
 you relapse into bad habits. We are David and Lois 
 to one another henceforward ; at any rate while you 
 stay here. Afterward you will forget me." 
 
 " Do not believe it. But you cannot." She turned 
 quickly, and the moonlight glanced upon the dew on 
 her eyelashes. " You should know me better than to 
 accuse me of such fickleness. I shall always remem- 
 ber my visit here as the happiest time of my life." 
 
 " Faithful and true," said David, as if thinking aloud. 
 " There are few of whom that can be said. I do be- 
 lieve you could be both, Lois. Faithful to friend, 
 true to lover." And, incited to madder folly by the 
 averted face and the quiver that ran over her, he 
 added: "Which may I be, Lois?" 
 
 There was no immediate reply, and, still holding 
 her hand, he began to sing, not loudly, but in full, 
 mellow tones and with marked expression : 
 
 " ' I come to thee in friendship's name, 
 
 Thou sayest I speak too coldly ; 
 I breathe of love's devoted flame, 
 Thou sayest I talk too boldly. 
 
 Which shall it be, love? 
 How shall I woo ? 
 Dear one, choose between the two."' 
 
 Unversed though she was in the guile of the world 
 and the deceitfulness of men's tongues, something 
 within Lois's deep heart told her that this was not the 
 language of earnest, manly affection, that the honest 
 attachment of a real suitor would hardly seek an out- 
 let in trolling so light a lay. 
 
 " Now, you are jesting with me," she exclaimed, 
 striving to withdraw her hand.
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 271 
 
 Her voice bespoke wounded feeling and alarmed 
 pride. If the interview were terminated thus, all 
 thought of friendship was at an end. In his anxiety 
 to soothe her indignation and quell her fears, David 
 stayed her when she would have risen. " Is this kind 
 to me? is it just to yourself, Lois? To you, whom 
 I respect more than I do any other woman upon 
 earth? If my presumption has offended you, do not 
 charge me with the more grievous sin of trifling with 
 regard to my feelings for you." 
 
 " Do not say presumption ! That sounds still more 
 like mockery," she interposed warmly. "Any woman, 
 however beautiful and gifted, would be honored by 
 your preference." 
 
 He raised her hands to his lips in an ecstasy of 
 gratitude. "Noble girl! blessed comforter! Yet, 
 Lois, would it not be the wildest, wickedest infatu- 
 ation in me to talk to you, or to any woman, of a 
 warmer sentiment than Platonic love brotherly re- 
 gard ? Years must pass before I dare cherish the 
 hope of having a home of my own ; such a dear, cosy 
 nest as you would make of the lowliest cottage, dear 
 Lois. I have said much within the past hour which 
 honor and expediency should have withheld me from 
 uttering. Call it random raving, boyish badinage, 
 anything you like. Only forget it and never fear lest 
 your true friend and brother should again offend you. 
 You will still be my sister, won't you ? " 
 
 He was getting earnest in his retractation, for her 
 serious eyes were reading his with a meaning that 
 made him restless. 
 
 " Do you mean," she said slowly, and with an evi-
 
 272 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 dent effort, " that you are too poor to think of the 
 home you speak of ; that this is all which holds you 
 back from hoping for it ? ' ; 
 
 " All ! " echoed David. " Is not that enough ? But 
 what can a woman know of poverty ; the sternest foe 
 to human happiness, uncompromising and invincible ? " 
 tragically. " It has written a black ' Impossible ' upon 
 the gate of the earthly Eden I covet. But for this 
 but I promised to say no more. Do not think me 
 weak and unmanly because I sometimes quarrel aloud 
 with Destiny. It would be criminal selfishness in me 
 to ask a woman, tender and delicate, accustomed to 
 refined society and a luxurious home, to share the 
 hardships of my lot. It would be suicidal in her to 
 accept such an offer." 
 
 " And this is all? " reiterated Lois, still gazing into 
 his eyes, her own expressive of a strange excitement 
 he could not interpret. 
 
 He turned from her with a pettish gesture. " What 
 more can I say to convince you that I have given a 
 truthful, if a mortifying statement of my position ? 
 Why do you torment me by useless questions? Con- 
 fessions of this kind are not favorable to the growth 
 of a man's self-respect. What cannot be helped must 
 be borne, and I am not a craven to be forever whin- 
 ing." 
 
 He had relinquished her hand, almost tossed it away 
 in what he was resolved should be a peremptory dis- 
 missal of the theme. The sport had become tiresomely 
 serious ; the scrape was tightening into a complication. 
 Yet common civility forbade him to shake off the 
 light touch that stole up to his shoulder.
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 273 
 
 " Forgive me, David. But I had a reason, an im- 
 portant one, for pressing the inquiry. You see you 
 must know don't be offended if I seem to speak too 
 openly. So much depends upon it. I am rich enough 
 for us both," said Lois Grant. 
 
 Then hid her face in her lap in an agony of love 
 and bashfulness. 
 
 12*
 
 PART II. 
 
 "YOU will be sure to bring Mr. Rodman?" 
 
 " If he has no other engagement, and if he will come. 
 I can promise nothing more definite," answered Lois 
 Grant, smiling and blushing. 
 
 She had not yet learned to hear allusions to her 
 betrothal and supposed influence over her lover with- 
 out embarrassment, although they had now been en- 
 gaged half a year and the relation between them been 
 acknowledged from the beginning. 
 
 "Oh! he will come, if you will but tell him how 
 disconsolate I shall be in the event of his absence. I 
 met him last week at Mrs. Price's, the evening he was 
 off duty in consequence of your sore throat. I had 
 never seen him quite untrammelled before. To con- 
 sole him for your absence I quite devoted myself to 
 him and he well it does not become me to say more 
 than that he appeared to be resigned. He has an envi- 
 able knack of masking his emotions, if he was not. If 
 I were you, I wouldn't grant him too much freedom. 
 He is far too fascinating to be trusted out of sight." 
 
 " I can trust him," replied Lois. " That is " as the 
 visitor laughed " he is quite able to take care of him- 
 self." 
 
 " Maybe so. My advice is sound, notwithstanding. 
 What a splendid specimen of a man he is! And how 
 274
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 275 
 
 strange it seems that you should be playing showman 
 to the lion. You, quiet, demure, prudish little Lois, 
 who used to be accounted merely an inoffensive, pious 
 nonenity. Now, you are an heiress and engaged to a 
 brilliant young lawyer who promises to be the rage of 
 the season. But time and money work wortdrous 
 changes. I am fast learning not to be surprised at 
 anything. You won't fail me on Thursday evening? 
 I know you are not music mad, and I don't suppose 
 you would appear in a tableau if I were to ask you ; 
 but your superb knight professes to admire my singing 
 and thereby shows his taste for the divine art, and I 
 must have him for a partner in that scene of the ' Sur- 
 prised Lovers.' If you come without him or both of 
 you stay away I shall give out to everybody that you, 
 having heard of our flirtation the other evening, are 
 afraid to subject him again to the battery of my eyes. 
 I engage to use them with discretion not to damage 
 your prospects, if you will oblige me." 
 
 " I exact no such pledge," said Lois, flushing a pain- 
 ful red. " Mr. Rodman is his own master and need 
 not remain on duty, as you call it, an hour longer than 
 he wishes." 
 
 When her guest had spoken her rattling adieux, she 
 was sorry she had been betrayed into the exhibition 
 of the slight flash of spirit evident in her last remark. 
 It was never worth while to mind what Christine 
 March said. She was a spoiled beauty and, many 
 people, including the young lady herself, thought a 
 wit. She had fallen into the habit of considering or, 
 at any rate, speaking of all the marriageable gentlemen 
 of her acquaintance as if they only required encour-
 
 276 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 agement from her to become her slaves. She really 
 appeared to believe herself irresistible and mankind 
 her lawful vassals. But these were partly to blame 
 for this impression, reasoned Lois, already beginning 
 to accuse herself of harsh judgment. They surround- 
 ed the belle wherever and whenever she made her ap- 
 pearance abroad with assiduous attention and flat- 
 teries, and although but twenty-one years of age she 
 had counted almost as many offers of marriage, if she 
 and popular report were to be credited. By her own 
 sex she was generally regarded with an unfavorable 
 eye. It was not because she so far outshone most of 
 them, they said, that they did not like her. Nor yet 
 because those who might otherwise have languished 
 at their respective shrines passed them unconsidered 
 by to vie in doing her homage, but her demeanor to 
 ladies differed widely from the petty trickery of flat- 
 teries, bon mots, and eye-language she played off upon 
 her corps of emulous attendants. She was arrogant 
 good-humoredly, so far as demeanor went, smiles be- 
 ing at all times more natural to her face than frowns 
 but her blunt and saucy assumption of superiority 
 over her plainer and less dashing mates was not easy 
 to bear. She had a way of leaving minute nettles in 
 their self-love that irritated the most amiable and un- 
 pretending, begetting sudden anger and often a rooted 
 aversion to her that outlasted the glow of temper. 
 
 Even right-minded Lois, while she tried to argue 
 herself out of her uncharitable fit, wished she could 
 compromise with her conscience to the extent of with- 
 holding the invitation left in her charge, yet acknowl- 
 edged that the threat, laughingly uttered of the con-
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 277 
 
 sequence of David's non-appearance, insured the de- 
 livery of Christine's message. 
 
 " It is very provoking that one is obliged to visit 
 people whom one does not like ; that society, not in- 
 clination, regulates our acceptance of invitations," she 
 thought, with growing discontent. " I should be far 
 happier at home, and so would David, yet it would 
 never do to send a regret. I wish I had held to my 
 original resolution to decline attending large parties 
 until I was out of mourning for my poor aunt. I 
 have lived in a whirligig all winter. Yet I thought I 
 was acting for the best when I consented to go out." 
 
 Which meant for David Rodman's good ; for the 
 promotion of his interests, professional and social. 
 He had come to the city in the fall succeeding their 
 engagement, and opened a law office in a busy and 
 fashionable street. The building in which it was situ- 
 ated belonged to Miss Grant, and he was soon known 
 as the manager of the ample estate lately bequeathed 
 to her; made his maiden speech in court in a suit 
 growing out of the settlement of the same. He won 
 the case a trifling matter in comparison with the fact 
 that his conduct of it, his noble appearance and grace- 
 ful oratory, albeit the latter was slightly florid and 
 sophomorical, were the subject of complimentary re- 
 mark and procured for him a respectable position 
 among the active barristers of the city. Until his 
 footing should be made sure and with this should 
 come the promise of an income that justified him in 
 the opinion of the world in taking to himself a wife 
 he proposed to remain single. 
 
 " If I have a favorite horror, it is lest I shall be stig-
 
 278 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 matized as a needy fortune-hunter," he said, proudly, 
 to Lois. " When I wooed you, you are my witness 
 that I supposed you to be as poor as myself, did not 
 know which of us had the odd sixpence. I cannot 
 endure that other people should say that my little 
 girl's chief recommendation to my preference was her 
 money. Let me establish, at least a show of inde- 
 pendence before we are wedded. Will my Lois wait 
 one year for me ? " 
 
 Would she ? She would have lived as his betrothed 
 ten years, thinking of, working for, and manoeuvring to 
 lift him toward the eminence she believed he would 
 grace as no other man had ever done, and accounted 
 herself his humble debtor in the end. Her dearest 
 privilege was that he allowed her to aid him ; the only 
 drawback to this boon the overstrained delicacy, as she 
 deemed it, that hindered him from accepting anything 
 really valuable from her as a gift. She would have 
 loaded him with keepsakes, but he showed his disfa- 
 vor to this phase of generosity by wearing none of the 
 jewelry she presented, excepting a ring he had taken 
 from her finger the night of their betrothal and a chain 
 made of her hair, and by discouraging inquiries into 
 his personal wants. His profits as her agent and legal 
 adviser were sufficient, he alleged, to cover his expen- 
 ses, and the utmost concession her tearful expostula- 
 tions could win from his Roman virtue was the promise 
 that he would borrow from the funds intrusted to him 
 whatever he required to help him in his business. His 
 accounts were punctually presented for her inspection, 
 and she invariably accepted them with a very bad grace, 
 wounded, despite her native common sense, by a form
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 279 
 
 which implied that their interests were as yet not iden- 
 tical ; kept them a day or two, and returned them 
 to him without so much as glancing at the sum total. 
 With her notions of the entireness of wedded faith, each 
 in the other's worth, such an act would have been trea- 
 son. David more than suspected how the case stood, 
 and once charged her with her remissness. 
 
 " Where is the use of troubling my head with those 
 long rows of figures, and fingering soiled receipts and 
 bits of incomprehensible scrip ? " she returned, play- 
 fully. " I always abhorred arithmetic when at school. 
 The accounts are beautifully kept and look all right, 
 and I am sure they are am far more positive than if 
 I had examined for myself. It is enough that you 
 say so." 
 
 "Very unbusiness-like !" David shook his head in a 
 pretence of grave rebuke. 
 
 " I dare say it is. And yet I have a guarantee of 
 your honesty that is what they call it is it not ? in 
 the fact that you cannot cheat me without defrauding 
 yourself. All that ever belonged to me is yours, 
 whether you take it or not. You cannot help yourself." 
 
 The same principle of self-abnegation overcame her 
 disinclination to enter gay society. Without spoken 
 demur she accepted all invitations that allowed her to 
 select her escort to the scene of amusement, and even 
 went so far as to give small but choice entertainments 
 in return, at which Mr. Rodman after a while grad- 
 ually slid into the office of master of ceremonies. I 
 say after a while, for he was too sagacious to assume 
 honors until he felt himself able to wear them credit- 
 ably. It took him an amazingly short time to become
 
 280 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 learned, not only in the cardinal principles, but the 
 by-laws of etiquette. Commencing with the resolu- 
 tion to allow nothing to shake his confidence in him- 
 self, or to surprise him into a show of embarrassment, 
 he gained all needful knowledge and skill in his new 
 pursuit by keen, stealthy observation and the fine 
 gentlemanly instinct of which I have already made 
 mention. The accident of slender hands and feet, 
 well-turned and jointed limbs and a set of classic fea- 
 tures was an invaluable auxiliary to him. If his 
 courtly manner, purely correct accent and thorough 
 self-possession were a counterfeit of perfect breeding 
 and high blood, it passed current with the mass of 
 those who were now his associates. The cautious in- 
 quiries into his antecedents that had hailed his debut 
 in the arena of polite society were exchanged before 
 his trial season was over, for whispered marvel at the 
 engagement which was the corner-stone of his success. 
 Susceptible young ladies sighed over his " unfortunate 
 entanglement," and shrewd mammas, accustomed to 
 ring and otherwise test each new issue from Fashion's 
 mint, decided him to be extremely eligible and were 
 sorry he had sacrificed himself prematurely. A man 
 with his address, talents, appearance and prospects, 
 might have formed a more desirable alliance than with 
 insignificant Lois Grant, if she had inherited the bulk 
 of her aunt's fortune as the price of her years of toad- 
 eating. Of course, all were agreed in the verdict that 
 he was going to marry her for money, and that alone. 
 What other earthly inducement could have urged him 
 to offer himself to a woman so much his senior, and so 
 destitute of beauty and accomplishments?
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 281 
 
 Up to the morning of Christine March's visit these 
 murmurs had not reached Lois. Her happiness had 
 hedged her in as with a wall, from suspicion, misgiv. 
 ings, and jealousies. She saw that David was admired 
 and sought after, and did not wonder that he enjoyed 
 the distinction he had already achieved ; was far more 
 proud of it than he could be and of him. In her 
 eyes he was a prince among his fellows for beauty, 
 goodness, and mental endowments a stainless and 
 incorruptible knight in honor and integrity, and 
 in the constancy of his affection for herself. It 
 was still passing strange that he should have learned 
 to love her, but since he had told her that his heart 
 was hers, that she of all living beings could make him 
 most happy, she incorporated the belief into her creed 
 and would have died to defend it. She liked to see 
 him meet other women's wiles with gracious courtesy, 
 conscious as she was that he was hers hers alone. 
 She cared less than nothing for gay company for her 
 own sake. It was too late for her to form a taste for 
 it, had not her engagement put all thoughts of other 
 lovers and possible conquests out of her loyal single 
 mind. She dressed well in her modest second mourn- 
 ing because David liked to see her richly arrayed, and 
 he was rapidly and studiously becoming a connoisseur 
 in ladies' toilets. She refurnished her aunt's spacious 
 house under the guidance of his taste, for it would be 
 his ere long, and handsome, stately appointments be- 
 fitted him as chaste and costly settings do diamonds. 
 In whatever position he appeared to the best advan- 
 tage, it was her delight to see him. In other respects 
 also he found her the least exacting of fiancees
 
 282 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 sweetly credulous to the pleas of important business 
 that now more frequently than of yore detained him 
 from her side at such hours as she expected him ; ever 
 ready with a cordial welcome when he did come, and 
 the rather anxious that he should be comfortable and 
 happy in her presence than that he should entertain 
 her with talk, amusing or amatory. His love-making 
 was never very ardent, but having known no other 
 she was satisfied with it. Judging him by herself, she 
 believed that he did not express one tithe of what he 
 felt ; gave to his stock-phrases of endearment and 
 protestation a might and richness of meaning that left 
 her nothing of spoken fondness to desire. Altogether 
 she was the best, most generous, and most indulgent 
 woman alive, Rodman averred, with sincere warmth, 
 that sent a happy flutter through her whole being, 
 and he would be an ungrateful wretch ever to cost 
 her a sigh or a regret. In fact he was not half good 
 enough for her and here Lois would arrest him with 
 blissful stammerings of denial. 
 
 He meant to be very true, very considerate of her 
 happiness, to take excellent care of her means, and 
 for himself to be reconciled to the fortune the Fates 
 had allotted him. He might have fared much worse 
 at their hands matrimonially. A penniless beauty or 
 a wealthy virago would be an evil exchange for his 
 demure, low-voiced, gentle-tempered Lois. A man 
 could not look for absolute perfection in wife or des- 
 tiny, and he was forced to confess that her drawbacks 
 were mostly of a negative character. 
 
 He spent the entire evening with her on the day of 
 Christine March's call. The weather was stormy, and
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 283 
 
 in anticipation of his coming Lois had ordered a fire 
 to be kindled in the library grate. The register warmed 
 the room sufficiently, but it was one of David's fancies 
 to dream and talk over a blazing bed of coals, and this 
 room was his favorite retreat. He had selected the 
 furniture, pictures, and most of the books that filled 
 the shelves let into the wall between the long French 
 windows. Here were his arm-chair, writing-desk, foot- 
 rest and cigar-holder. Lois had resolutely overcome 
 her antipathy to tobacco-smoke, when he resumed this 
 one of his few college extravagances. Had he chosen 
 he might have scented the damask curtains of her par- 
 lors with the stale odor of his choice weeds, but from 
 this his ideas of propriety revolted. To do him justice, 
 he would never have brought a cigar into the house 
 but for her entreaties. Whatever tended to put him 
 at his ease, to fill him with a sense of home-comfort 
 and enjoyment, must be done. He was emperor of 
 the domain and of her universe. 
 
 He lay back within the crimson depths of his chaise- 
 lounge, his Habafla between his lips, gazing into the 
 fire in an attitude of indolent grace, his luxuriant 
 beard rippling over the breast of a black velvet smok- 
 ing-coat which was always ready for him in the library 
 closet when Lois came down to him. She carried 
 her work-basket in her hand ; her dress was of gray 
 silk, with lace collar and undersleeves, and her hair 
 arranged in the prevailing mode. She could never be 
 anything but prim, let her bedeck herself as she would. 
 Every fold of drapery, every band of hair knew its 
 place and kept it. Yet she was a pleasant if not a 
 pretty picture to mount guard by a Sybarite's fireside.
 
 284 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 David appreciated this when he stooped to kiss her on 
 the forehead, with the apology " I won't profane 
 your lips with cigar smoke ! " and held her for an in- 
 stant in the curve of his arm as he might have em- 
 braced his maiden aunt or married sister. There was 
 in tone and action, however, a hearty recognition of 
 the truth that she was good and dear to him that 
 salved, for the nonce, the stinging of Christine March's 
 nettle. 
 
 They did not talk much or continuously, as is the 
 custom of many absurdly happy lovers. But Lois's 
 needle and David's cigar helped to make time pass 
 cheerfully and without halting at the long gaps in the 
 dialogue. 
 
 " I like this,' broke forth David, presently, as a dash 
 of sleet against the shutters was answered by the defi- 
 ant laugh of the fire. " It reminds me of what the 
 author of ' Eothen ' says about steeping his eyes in 
 the green shades of Egypt after crossing the desert." 
 
 "Ah!" said Lois, with a pleased smile. She had 
 not an idea what " Eothen " was or who was the author, 
 but she made out that her prince was comfortable, and 
 that sufficed for her delight. " I am glad you like to 
 be here. So do I," she added. 
 
 " It is a very dear haunt to me, love. And we have 
 been tiresomely dissipated lately for such sober peo- 
 ple." 
 
 " We have ! " returned Lois, emphatically. " I am 
 sadly weary of it sometimes. I was just wondering if 
 we could not send a regret in reply to the latest invi- 
 tation." Then she rehearsed Christine's scheme for a 
 musical soiree, to be followed by tableaux vivans.
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 285 
 
 " She says it is to be a small party," she concluded. 
 " But she cannot well give such. Her circle of ac- 
 quaintances is too large." 
 
 " It is something of a bore," said David, languidly. 
 " But we must go, I suppose. Indeed, Miss March in- 
 timated to me last week that she had this project in 
 her head, and made me promise to assist her in the 
 tableaux department. Men of a respectable stature 
 are at a premium in town, she says." 
 
 She had intimated much more, which good taste, 
 not modesty, restrained him from repeating even in 
 the present company. The nettle pricked Lois again, 
 as she divined this. Christine prided herself upon her 
 frankness. She had not let slip without reasonable 
 improvement this opportunity of flattering one whose 
 good-will she wished to gain. 
 
 " She told him he was handsome and distinguished- 
 looking as plainly as she talked to me about my being 
 a nonentity," thought our heroine, her cheeks warm- 
 ing as the cheery fire had not heated them. 
 
 " Do you like her very much, David ? " she asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 He took his cigar from his lips and blew away a curl 
 of smoke, his mouth relaxing with an indulgent smile, 
 as it might at a child's folly. " That is a close ques- 
 tion, and one I am puzzled to answer while my ac- 
 quaintanceship with the lady is so slight. She is very 
 beautiful in a certain way very lively, and a fine mu- 
 sician. I know nothing more about her except that 
 she seems to be more admired than any other lady in 
 her ' set.' Did I detect a greenish tinge in your dove- 
 like eyes just now?"
 
 286 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 Lois averted her face over her sewing at the teasing 
 accent. 
 
 " Take heart, my dear," David continued, in the 
 same tone. " When I desert your colors it will not 
 be to enlist under hers." 
 
 " I cannot imagine you as a deserter from any right 
 and honorable position, David. I am sure of your 
 fidelity to me as I am of mine to you. But Christine 
 is an inveterate rattle, and she said some foolish things 
 to me this morning about you ; raved about your at- 
 tractiveness, and so on. That is all. I will not think 
 of it again." 
 
 She tried bravely to keep her word on the night of 
 the tableaux party of which, by Miss March's con- 
 trivance, David was the star. He supported her in 
 four out of the eight scenes, and won the plaudits of 
 the fashionable spectators in such abundant measure 
 that he was called to the front of the curtain at the 
 close of the performance. He led his fair hostess 
 into view, feigning to account his own success a sec- 
 ondary affair, bowed first to the benches filled with 
 the elite of the city, then more profoundly to her, 
 picked up the bouquets tossed to him, and presented 
 them to Miss March with a generosity of gallantry 
 that elicited fresh encomiums. 
 
 " A magnificent couple !" said a gentleman behind 
 Lois. " Are their love-passages confined to the 
 stage ? " 
 
 " It is to be hoped so," replied a lady's voice, 
 " since he is engaged to be married to another lady." 
 
 " That would not deter Miss March from at- 
 tempting his conquest if she cared to do it," was the
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 287 
 
 rejoinder. " And her efforts in that line of specu- 
 lation are usually successful." 
 
 Greatly to Lois' relief the lights were turned up at 
 that moment, and the buzz of the crowd, as it broke 
 up into knots for conversation and promenading, 
 drowned what followed. 
 
 It was wickedly absurd in her to feel uneasy after 
 David's assurances of indifference to Christine and 
 love for herself ; very mean and dishonorable in her 
 to try, as she did, not to lose sight of them during 
 the rest of the evening, and to torment herself with 
 conjectures as to what was the purport of the semi- 
 confidential communications exchanged when his head 
 was bowed until the burnished waves of his beard 
 almost swept her cheeks, and her sparkling face 
 flashed up into his her response, or upon what sub- 
 ject Christine was expatiating when he laughed more 
 heartily than Lois had ever seen him do at any other 
 witticism ; his eyes, if not his tongue, testifying to 
 his keen appreciation of her humor. It was not in- 
 nocent fun on Christine's part. Of that Lois was 
 sure. Her most glittering arrows were as a rule 
 directed at the foibles and peculiarities of her ac- 
 quaintances. Lois did not blame David, but she 
 would have been better pleased had he met these 
 caustic or impertinent comments by rebuke, not mer- 
 riment. 
 
 A little incident at supper-time augmented her 
 discomfort, and was the prelude to a season of 
 poignant anguish. When the company was sum- 
 moned to the supper-room, Lois was separated 
 from her betrothed by the length of both parlors,
 
 288 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 and Miss March leaned upon his arm. I use the 
 word advisedly. There was an appealing weight in 
 her snowy hand and the slight droop of her pliant 
 figure toward her attendant which the one occupying 
 that position declared to be irresistibly engaging, and 
 the women protested was disgusting. She did not 
 weaken her hold upon David as the others fell into 
 the line of march, although she could not but observe 
 his involuntary movement to release her, and the 
 troubled look he sent through the rooms in quest of 
 Lois. Before he quite comprehended what he was 
 doing, they had passed into the hall and across the 
 threshold of the apartment in which the table was 
 laid. Then he sought again and vainly in the mass of 
 faces encompassing him for that of his affianced, his 
 conscience clamoring loudly and reproachfully of his 
 cowardly neglect of her to whom his first duty be- 
 longed. 
 
 " How thoughtless I am ! Can you ever forgive 
 me?" exclaimed Christine, withdrawing her hand 
 from its support, and looking prettier than ever in her 
 show of penitent consternation. " Of course you 
 ought to be taking care of Lois poor, dear little 
 mouse ! Don't let me detain you one second. I 
 would not have let you wait upon me I mean would 
 not have chosen my escort anywhere except in my own 
 house. But I thought I might please myself might 
 take the liberty here. How cruelly inhospitable she 
 will think me. Somebody else has doubtless brought 
 her in by this time, and she will never forgive me for 
 detaining you. And you, too, are displeased think 
 me unkind."
 
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 289 
 
 " I do not ! My place is where I would have it 
 here ! " returned David. " As you say, Miss Grant 
 must be provided with an escort before now." 
 
 " You see," the witch went on, granting him the 
 full benefit of her dangerous eyes, " I cannot remem- 
 ber that you don't belong to yourself. You act, and 
 look, and talk so little like an engaged man. They 
 are as a class insufferably stupid. And it seems 
 especially odd to me that you should be Lois' prop- 
 erty. I have known her ever and ever so many years, 
 you must know. She was one of the big girls at 
 Madame Le Brien's when I was in the ABC class. 
 Such a precise doll as she was even then with her 
 aunt's dresses made over for her. She was like a 
 woman of forty-five cut down a foot or two. She 
 was the ' goody ? of the establishment reported all 
 the naughty tricks of us wild ones, and never got a 
 bad mark herself, or did anything that was not accord- 
 ing to rule and compass. She had a hard life of it 
 with that cross, stingy old Miss Grant. I used to 
 pity her for having to play propriety all the time. 
 But she has kept it up very creditably, and all is 
 bright ahead of her now. She ought to be very 
 happy, and I suppose deserves her good fortune more 
 than wicked I do," with an abstracted look and stifled 
 sigh. Then starting and recovering herself with a 
 forced smile, " Some day when we know one another 
 better and if she do not forbid it, you must tell me 
 all about your romance ; where you picked her up 
 last summer, and how it all came about and so forth. 
 I can be sentimental and sympathizing, although you 
 do think me an empty-headed and light-hearted chat- 
 13
 
 290 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 terbox. And excuse me for saying it " the battery 
 in active play again, and doing wonderful things 
 " but everybody will have it that there is some mys- 
 tery about your engagement, and as I remarked you 
 are so dissimilar, you might be natives of different 
 spheres. The law of contrariety, not of counterparts, 
 drew you together I am sure." 
 
 " I never considered you empty-headed or shallow- 
 hearted." David seized upon this clause as the easiest 
 to answer. " As for the flattering situation assigned 
 me by Rumor, I can only say that the voluble dame 
 has, as is her custom, taken too much for granted." 
 
 It was the nearest approach to a denial of his en- 
 gagement he had ever made, and the wily coquette 
 asked for the present nothing more explicit. 
 
 Lois, meanwhile, having declined the only offer of 
 attendance made her with a polite "Thank you, but I 
 believe I have an engagement," had seen the entire 
 company file into the supper-room, until, to her 
 amazement and chagrin, she remained the solitary 
 occupant of great parlors. She waited five ten min- 
 utes in the forlorn hope that David would yet return 
 for her and explain his extraordinary defection, then, 
 attacked by the fear of being discovered in her isola- 
 tion by the returning revellers, she escaped to the 
 dressing-room, and did not reappear below until her 
 carriage was announced. 
 
 " I have been extremely uneasy about you," began 
 David, as soon as the door was closed upon them. 
 " Were you sick ? or what kept you up-stairs all the 
 evening? You vanished before supper, and not a 
 glimpse have I been able to catch of you since. If
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 291 
 
 you were not well you should have sent me word that 
 I might take you home." 
 
 "I was not sick," answered Lois, faintly ; "but I 
 was very unhappy, and and I did not suppose you 
 would miss me "- 
 
 " If this is to be your habit in future, Lois, I shall 
 not quit your side for an instant," interposed David. 
 " I wish you to understand once for all that whatever 
 may be my views of the claims and expediencies 
 of society, and however important to a man situated 
 as I am, personal popularity may seem, these are as 
 nothing in comparison to your peace of mind. If it 
 makes you ' very unhappy ' to see me playing my 
 part the part assigned me by common civility in a 
 social gathering, I shall not speak to another woman 
 beside yourself until marriage has made you certain 
 of my allegiance. This is a new phase of your char- 
 acter." 
 
 Poor Lois ! The meek remonstrances she had 
 meditated were overspread and swept into nothing- 
 ness by this loverly yet dignified reprimand. He had 
 never had occasion to chide her before. He should 
 never have again. In tearful haste she implored him 
 to forgive her folly, and to behave in time to come 
 precisely as he had in the past. He was always kind, 
 always wise ; who else so judicious ? She was over- 
 joyed at the sensation he had created that evening. 
 She had heard his praises on every side. 
 
 " I am so proud of you, dear, when I see you so 
 courted and caressed," she affirmed, squeezing his 
 hand in both of hers when they reached home, and 
 uplifting a visage discolored by recent and profuse
 
 292 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 weeping, and haggard from the miserable thoughts 
 that had been both food and torment to her mind 
 during her tedious waiting in the dressing-room. 
 
 " Heavens ! she looks forty years old," thought Da- 
 vid, with a sick recoil of heart. And he was what she 
 had said what Christine March had told him in more 
 eloquent language as unlike in every respect, in mind 
 and person, to this sallow, diminutive woman, who 
 was no longer a girl, as if he had been born in another 
 world. The pang of self-pity was very sharp. 
 
 "You are not angry with me?" queried Lois, pite- 
 ously, seeing his change of complexion and the fur- 
 row, of pain between his brows. 
 
 " Angry ? No, but very tired and so are you. I 
 will not keep you up longer. Good-night ! " He 
 touched her cheek with cold, unwilling lips, and hur- 
 ried away. 
 
 " Another moment and I should have suffocated ! " 
 he panted, in gaining the outer air. " What an idiot ! 
 what a consummate, measureless fool I have made of 
 myself ! When I think of what might have been and 
 of what is, I could cut my own throat with great 
 pleasure." 
 
 Nevertheless, he came to the conclusion next morn- 
 ing not to take a single step toward the annulment of 
 his engagement. It was a very safe investment, a 
 ladder, staunch and permanent. But for the use of 
 Lois' money, he would be utterly impecunious. But 
 for the advantages derived from the social rank of the 
 Grants as an old and wealthy family, he would sink 
 into a poor but daring adventurer. Why borrow 
 trouble ? He was not to marry for six months yet,
 
 Lois Gra?it t and Her Reward. 293 
 
 and in that time some blessed turn of Fate might de- 
 lay or finally avert the catastrophe. That was the 
 name he gave the sacrifice of his superb self upon the 
 altar of Mammon. Reviewing the accident of his 
 plighting to Lois, from the point on which he now 
 stood, he blamed her bitterly for her imposition upon 
 his youth and inexperience. She knew the world, 
 and could estimate more correctly than could he what 
 would be his value there. She had caught at him 
 with alacrity that should have opened his eyes. In 
 truth (he had never exactly said this before, even to 
 himself), the proposal was virtually hers. It was her 
 fault, not his, that she mistook his pseudo-wooing for 
 very earnest. She had under this, misapprehension 
 thrown herself and her fortune at his head, and emi- 
 nently convenient as was the latter, he would gladly 
 resign one-half of it could he enjoy the remainder un- 
 incumbered by the nominal mistress thereof. But 
 again mindful of the unphilosophical and perilous na- 
 ture of such reflections since this might not be, he 
 would accept the situation, and, unless a more be- 
 nignant Destiny than that which had conducted the 
 heiress to Mrs. Bracy's abode should interpose in his 
 behalf, he would bow his lordly neck to the hymeneal 
 yoke. Meanwhile let us eat and drink, for to-mor- 
 row we die. While he might without sin toy with 
 edge-tools, he would cultivate Christine March. 
 
 He had promised to call upon her that evening, 
 contrary as the act was to the custom of allowing 
 party-givers a day of rest in which to recover from 
 their fatigue. 
 
 " A fashion born in the times when our great grand-
 
 294 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 mothers made the good things and washed up the 
 dishes," she said. " Now-a-days it is preposterous 
 and a bore. If you will drop in after dark you will 
 add another to the long list of your benevolent deeds, 
 and find me sola. I can't say as much for other even- 
 ings." 
 
 A note, purposely more than usually affectionate, 
 informed Lois that an imperative engagement de- 
 tained him from her side; hoped she was well and 
 entirely rested, and bade her look for him the follow- 
 ing afternoon. He would tear himself out of the busi- 
 ness-net long enough to drive with her. He had been 
 wretched all day with the fear that she was growing 
 paler and thinner of late, somewhat fagged out by late 
 hours and over industry. She must recollect how im- 
 portant her health was to his happiness, and spare 
 herself indefatigable little bee that she was. He 
 signed himself : " Yours, now and forever, D. R.," 
 sent off the missive by his office-boy, locked the door, 
 and threw himself upon the sofa for a siesta that 
 should brighten up his energies for the interview with 
 the " imperative " beauty. 
 
 She was mistress of her art. He was her only visitor, 
 but her toilet was a model of elegance, her greeting 
 warm and frank, and her whole manner so winning, 
 yet so vivacious, that he succumbed to the spell set 
 for him before the first five minutes of talk were over. 
 This was not Christine as the world knew her, but the 
 friend who recognized in him affinities that were a 
 passport to her heart and mind, and shamed not to 
 own it. She sang by-and-by at his request, selecting 
 a pathetic English ballad instead of the Italian bra-
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 295 
 
 vuras with which she would have regaled a roomful of 
 company. David named the second, and when she 
 had melted his heart and almost his eyes by her ex- 
 quisite rendering of it, she warbled like a seraph or 
 a syren in a gush of tender melancholy : 
 
 " ' Beloved eye, beloved star ! 
 
 Thou art so near, and yet so far.' " 
 
 David was a slave from the moment he met her large 
 liquid eyes as the passionate refrain was poured from 
 her swan-like throat, and, he could have sworn, her 
 heart. With all his conceit of his invincibleness in 
 love-tilts, he was the merest tyro compared with this 
 ingenuous creature. She meant that he should be 
 madly enamored of her, and the surest means to this 
 end being to convince him that she was captivated by 
 him, she scrupled not to seduce him into this persua- 
 sion. He was as vain as handsome, and cared not a 
 rush for the woman he was going to marry. Christine 
 used both levers adroitly. Ere their prolonged col- 
 loquy was over, she had elicited a mournful confession 
 of the unhappiness none but she had ever suspected. 
 
 "A lifetime of disappointment and yearning is a 
 terrible penalty to pay for a boyish indiscretion," he 
 said, darkly. 
 
 " It is," in gentlest commiseration. " All this is 
 nothing new to me. I felt from the hour in which we 
 first met that my old school-fellow, estimable as all 
 acknowledged her to be, was not the chosen of your 
 soul. I dared to tell you last night that there was 
 some mystery in this unnatural connection. You 
 need not fear to speak out freely to me henceforward.
 
 296 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 It will be a relief for we understand each other, do 
 we not? And isn't there a drop of comfort in the 
 thought that there is upon this cold unfriendly earth 
 one spirit that responds to the finer chords of your 
 own ? " 
 
 " Comfort ? It is the boon of life to him who is 
 ready to perish," said the infatuated creature. "Your 
 friendship is more precious to me than would be the 
 love of any other woman." 
 
 He raved as senselessly in the solitude of his cham- 
 ber at an hour when sane and honest people were in 
 bed and virtuously asleep, clutching his glossy locks 
 with both hands, and stamping about the floor in a 
 high tragedy frenzy. " Sacrificed ! sacrificed ! " he 
 spluttered through his grinding teeth. " Bound to a 
 commonplace elderly spinster whose fondness and 
 companionship are a weariness, while across the gulf 
 stands this angel, divine in a compassion which would 
 have been love but for this wretched, fatal blunder. 
 Was ever mortal at once so blest and so curst? " 
 
 " An easy conquest," smiled Christine to her image 
 in the mirror. " But I have not had another affair as 
 interesting in two years. I must follow up my ad- 
 vantage." 
 
 And Lois having read her nightly chapter in the 
 Bible and prayed fervently and thankfully for the 
 peace and welfare of her darling, slumbered tranquilly, 
 keeping fast hold of his letter under the pillow with 
 the hand that wore the betrothal ring.
 
 PART IM. 
 
 UBIQUITOUS and omniscient Everybody marvelled, 
 first in corners, then upon the house-tops, that Lois 
 Grant, although such a simple, amiable soul, did not 
 see and resent the glaring defection of her lover ; did 
 not interpose to mar if she did not prohibit his inti- 
 macy with so notable a flirt and seductive a woman 
 as Christine March was known to be. 
 
 His passion for her v/as, from the hour of its incep- 
 tion, positive fatuity. All the power and fervor of the 
 man's originally earnest nature were mingled in the 
 flood-tide of this, his first love. He could not have 
 hidden it had he desired and attempted concealment. 
 Instead of this he blazoned his infidelity to his 
 plighted bride fearlessly as though it were his glory, 
 not his shame. So discreet was Lois's household, con- 
 sisting of herself, the elderly widow she had elected to 
 the place of companion, and the trained servants who 
 had served her aunt before her that Everybody 
 could not determine accurately the number and length 
 of Mr. Rodman's visits to his lawful mistress ; but he 
 appeared daily in public at Christine's side, riding, 
 walking, at dinner-parties, at balls, receptions, and 
 matintes, until his devotion became a proverb. Saga- 
 cious business men shook their heads over the una- 
 voidable neglect of his professional duties. No young 
 297 13*
 
 298 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 man could with impunity fritter away his time at the 
 outset of his career. They had given him credit for a 
 better balanced mind, more just ideas for the relative 
 importance and fitness of things. Their wives had 
 their say respecting the scandalous conduct of the 
 coquette in permitting nay, courting his attendance. 
 It was plain to be seen that Mr. Rodman was led on 
 by her, beguiled toward ruin without being conscious 
 how far he had wandered from the path of honor and 
 rectitude. It would be a kind act of some friend to 
 open his eyes to show his enchantress in her true 
 form ; but when it came to that none of the virtuous 
 matrons felt herself called upon to undertake the be- 
 nevolent office. They knew Christine too well, and 
 there was hardly one of their band who had not at 
 some period attempted to " take her in hand " and 
 dropped her as they would have done a sentient 
 nettle. 
 
 She kept her senses about her; understood exactly 
 where David stood. He had not reached the ultima 
 tlinlc of her desires. While he kept up the hollow 
 show of betrothal to another, he was not the abject 
 vassal she would have him become. She surmised in 
 the astuteness of her worldly wisdom that financial 
 ruin would be the result of an open rupture with his 
 rich client, but so insatiable was her thirst for con- 
 quest, so imperious her demand for the homage of all 
 men who approached her, that she did not swerve from 
 her purpose. She was not the fiend in angelic guise 
 that steals into so many written romances beautiful, 
 vindictive, and, if need be, murderous. She was sim- 
 ply heartless and inordinately vain. Without hating
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 299 
 
 Lois, she meant to punish her for being richer than 
 herself, and for the quiet impertinence of her rejoinder 
 to the belle's patronizing pledge not to steal her lover 
 from her. She needed to be taught her place, which 
 was, in common with all other women, secondary to 
 Miss March's. When this should be accomplished 
 the humble learner was welcome to her Adonis. 
 Christine herself was no salamander to live forever in 
 the flame of such devotion as was his. And he would 
 care as much for Lois when she, Christine, had done 
 with him, as he had done before he fell in love in 
 earnest. 
 
 Mrs. Miller, Lois's widowed aunt and duenna, once 
 sought an opportunity of expostulating privately with 
 Mr. Rodman upon his singular behavior. It was the 
 old lady stated stiffly, for she dearly loved her ill-used 
 relative dishonoring to himself and cruel to her who 
 loved him so truly and generously. 
 
 " She has never complained of your behavior in this 
 or any respect," she was careful to add; "but I can 
 see that she suffers intensely. I think you do not 
 quite appreciate her capacity for loving or for sorrow- 
 ing, Mr. Rodman, or you would not impose this use- 
 less trial upon her. She has not deserved it at your 
 hands." 
 
 David fired up angrily. Two of her shots had hit 
 him more sorely than she suspected. " You are un- 
 fortunate in your use of terms," he said. " I do not 
 question Miss Grant's fidelity to her plighted word, 
 but I am at a loss to perceive any remarkable gene- 
 rosity in her attachment to myself. As I look at the 
 matter, a man is not an applicant for charity when
 
 300 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 he sues for a lady's hand. Nor am I conscious of 
 having given her occasion of complaint to her family 
 and friends. Excuse me for reminding you, Mrs. Mil- 
 ler, that it is her province not theirs to sit in judg- 
 ment upon my actions and motives. If she desires an 
 explanation, she has only to ask for it and it is hers." 
 
 The smart of this repulse gave the chaperone cour- 
 age to broach the subject of Lois's wrongs to that 
 young lady herself. Hitherto the rumors and com- 
 ments rife in society had not been hinted at by either 
 in their intercourse with one another. Mrs. Miller could 
 not be positive that they had ever reached her niece, 
 and she touched the tender subject very courteously. 
 
 " I met Mr. August in the street to-day, my dear," 
 she began, one evening when they were alone. 
 
 Lois was standing by the window watching the 
 passers-by, on the lookout, Mrs. Miller knew, for one 
 figure which came now less punctually and surely than 
 of old. 
 
 "Ah ! how long has he been in town ? " asked Lois, 
 turning partly around and evidently interested. 
 
 Mr. August had been her aunt's man of business, 
 tried and trusted for many years. He had petted her 
 as a child, and often taken her part after she arrived 
 at woman's estate against her aunt's peevish injustice. 
 She liked and loved him, and was disappointed that 
 his retirement from active life and removal to the 
 country had deprived her of his services and counsel. 
 
 " Two days, I believe. He will call upon you to- 
 morrow. He is anxious to see you, for several rea- 
 sons. The truth is he is uneasy "- 
 
 "About me ! " said Lois questioningly, as the other
 
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 301 
 
 hesitated. She spoke quickly but without surprise 
 or visible perturbation. 
 
 "Yes. He is the soul of prudence, you know." 
 Mrs. Miller paved each step with explanations that 
 sounded deprecatory. " He fears that Mr. Rodman's 
 management of your affairs is not altogether judi- 
 cious; questions the wisdom of certain investments 
 he has been making in your name I suppose by your 
 orders ? " 
 
 If this clause were intended as a probe, the experi- 
 ment was unsatisfactory to her who applied it. If 
 news had been brought her that David had abscond- 
 ed with every dollar she owned, it would not have 
 wrung from loyal Lois a syllable of censure. Too 
 truthful to equivocate yet resolute in his defence she 
 answered mildly but firmly, " I sanction whatever Mr. 
 Rodman does. I do not know to what investment 
 Mr. August refers, but I have perfect confidence in 
 Mr. Rodman's judgment." 
 
 " He has been buying oil lands in your name, Mr. 
 August states lands which, by the way, lie near 
 Berkeley,' the place in which you spent last summer, 
 further back in the mountains in a wild, uncultivated 
 region. Such speculations are all the rage now, Mr. 
 August says, but he thinks this will be succeeded by 
 a panic. He happened to hear what Mr. Rodman had 
 done through the agent of the company owning the 
 bulk of these lands. You are a large stockholder, be- 
 sides having bought through your agent an extensive 
 tract which may become immensely valuable some 
 day, but is more likely, in Mr. August's opinion, to 
 prove almost worthless."
 
 302 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 Lois remained motionless, leaning her arm against 
 the sash, her forehead on her arm, and seeming still to 
 gaze intently into the street. Was she hoping that 
 David would appear to spare her the pain of a reply ? 
 
 " I hope you don't consider your old friend and 
 myself officious or curious meddlers, my love?" said 
 Mrs. Miller, uneasy at the long silence. 
 
 " No, madam. I know you both have my good at 
 heart," answered Lois without stirring. Her submis- 
 sive accent was unlooked-for encouragement. 
 
 " We have, my child ! You are a novice in business 
 matters and inclined to be over-trustful in other re- 
 spects. Don't you think you had better have a plain 
 talk with Mr. Rodman ? The straight path may be 
 steep, but it is safest." 
 
 Again Lois was slow to reply. " It would be use- 
 less," she said then in a low, and Mrs. Miller fancied 
 desolate tone. " Mr. Rodman manages my money as 
 he would his own. It is bis or will be, if affairs ter- 
 minate as had been proposed by us. If they do not 
 why, it makes no difference ! " 
 
 She did not say in words " what becomes of me 
 and my property," but Mrs. Miller guessed that the 
 sentence was thus finished in her mind, and waxed 
 warmer in her compassionate indignation. " You may 
 get angry if you like, Lois, but I cannot keep it back. 
 You are too indulgent, too forgiving to that man. If 
 you really mean to marry him it is time the day was 
 set and arrangements commenced. And if he intends 
 ever to become your husband, it is contrary to com- 
 mon decency for him to be dancing all the while in 
 Christine March's shadow. He is seen with her every-
 
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 303 
 
 where, and is to all appearance desperately infatuated 
 by her. The whole community cries ' shame ' upon 
 them, for one is as guilty as the other." 
 
 " The community does not know David Rodman as 
 I do," began Lois, with an attempt at dignity that 
 failed her ere she finished her little speech. " I trust 
 him, Aunt Julia. Mutual confidence perfect and 
 lasting was our compact, and I could never look into 
 his eyes again if I allowed idle or malicious rumors to 
 move me even in thought. He says he loves me is 
 true in heart, however others may misconstrue his 
 deeds and I must believe him. Don't try to break 
 down my faith. When I learn distrust of him, I shall 
 believe in nothing else nothing ! " She put out her 
 hand in saying it in a piteous, unsteady way, as if 
 groping for some support in darkness, left the window 
 and went off to her chamber. 
 
 Mrs. Miller had never liked David Rodman, but 
 from that night she hated him as heartily as her re- 
 ligion allowed her to hate an enemy. Her dislike was 
 the greater for the spectacle of Lois's blind pertinacity 
 of trust in one who the elder lady was persuaded 
 was playing her false so far as affection was concerned, 
 if not defrauding her of the wealth for which she be- 
 lieved, with the rest of the world, he had sought her. 
 
 Lois, strong in her knowledge of the groundlessness 
 of this charge, was deaf to all others against the lover 
 who had wooed her before he knew her to be richer 
 than himself. He had loved her for what she was, not 
 what she had, she had cause to remind herself contin- 
 ually, and wrought out from this by the sure rule of a 
 woman's logic the sequence that since she was un-
 
 304 Lois Grant, and Her Reivard. 
 
 changed, he must be true to her still. Vacillation im- 
 plied weakness, and David was strong. His fancy 
 might be allured by Christine's beauty, and he admired 
 her as he did fine pictures and statues. She was 
 sprightly and talkative, and he was amusing himself in 
 her company. She Lois never amused anybody, 
 was as little of a wit as a beauty, but she loved him 
 so fondly he must come back to her by and by. She 
 would be hopeful and patient ; let him see how com- 
 plete was her trust, how mighty her love until he 
 wearied of diversion and resumed his old habits. 
 
 She made no inquiry into the truth of Mr. August's 
 statement concerning the recent and ill-advised invest- 
 ment her lawyer had made. It was more than prob- 
 able he had done as the cautious old gentleman had 
 said. She had months ago given him a power of at- 
 torney to use her name as he pleased. He had not 
 acted without legal warrant, although he had not con- 
 sulted her. Why should he do this ? She was the 
 stupidest of ignoramuses in monetary transactions. If 
 he had laid the case before her in all its bearings, she 
 would have said " Do as you think best," whatever 
 might have been her forebodings. She was clever in 
 nothing except in nursing, needlework and cookery; 
 but she loved him. 
 
 So with regard to the questionable intimacy con- 
 demned by the community a sentence which had no 
 weight with her except as it impressed her with the 
 idea that she ought to stand the more stoutly by him 
 since others blamed him. She had promised never to 
 annoy him again by her childish jealousy, and she 
 would keep her word though the green corrosion were
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 305 
 
 to eat away her heart. Beautiful and gifted women 
 could afford to toy with and to test their lovers' affec- 
 tion. The only art she knew whereby to keep hers 
 constant was to show him how full, how fervent, and 
 how free was her attachment, to study his wishes con- 
 stantly, and to meet them whenever she could, esteem- 
 ing nothing arduous or an act of self-denial that enabled 
 her to do this. 
 
 It was about this time that Christine took it into 
 her well-made head to be jealous of her plain and 
 modest rival. She " did " this phase of the so-called 
 tender passion as she did everything else, thoroughly 
 and bewitchingly. She catechized the enamored swain 
 as to the number of his visits to Lois per week, how 
 long he stayed, what he said, and what he thought 
 while there, when he was going again, and unmasked 
 her battery finally by inquiring with naive earnest- 
 ness why he went thither at all. This was the crisis. 
 Conscience, honor, feminine delicacy forbade her to 
 permit his continued attentions while he was betrothed 
 to another. 
 
 "We have been dreaming, I think," she said with 
 a wistful, troubled smile that melted swiftly into a 
 mist of undropped tears. " People are saying cruel 
 things about us. Isn't it unaccountable how loth 
 people are to let others be innocently happy? And 
 we have had some sweet, happy hours together this 
 winter, haven't we? But mamma is growing restless 
 under the lash of the gossips' tongues, and I cannot 
 defy her commands. I shall miss you terribly, and I 
 am vain enough to think you will sometimes long for 
 me when you are satiated with respectable dulness ;
 
 306 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 but since dulness is respectable, and obedience to 
 parents a duty, we should not shirk the performance 
 of it. I don't deny that it is pleasant, only too delight- 
 ful to have you here as often as you have been of late ; 
 but the question is, have I a right to this happiness? 
 We ceased talking about friendship long ago, you know, 
 and if we had continued to cheat one another with the 
 pretty names of brother and sister the wicked world 
 would not believe us." 
 
 And when he protested, raved and prayed in agony 
 at the bare prospect of banishment, she spoke yet more 
 explicitly. When he was free or when he had told 
 Lois everything, and had her consent to continue the 
 intimacy she owned was one of her chiefest sources of 
 earthly beatitude, then and not till then he could 
 again appear in her presence. Otherwise a mute look 
 of anguish, a shudder and a burial of the mournful 
 face in the lily hands completed the farewell to him 
 and to hope. 
 
 And this was the way in which he told Lois every- 
 thing: 
 
 MY VERY DEAR FRIEND : I must believe that you have for some 
 time past anticipated the confession I am now impelled to make by feel- 
 ings I cannot master. I have been conscious for several months of a 
 growing change in my sentiments toward yourself. Esteem you I ever 
 must as one whose rare excellence of character, amiability and gentle- 
 ness of demeanor so won upon my regard in the familiar intercourse of 
 the comparatively lonely Jife I led in Berkeley, that I was deceived by 
 the sincerity of my appreciation of these into the belief that I loved you 
 as man can love but once in a lifetime. It is only since I have learned 
 what this love really is how strong, how unconquerable and how ten- 
 der that I have understood what a wrong would be our union without 
 it. This injustice at least I will not do you. I know you too well 
 not to be certain that you will approve of my courage and frankness in
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 307 
 
 owning to you the mistake into which youthful impetuosity and imma- 
 ture judgment have led me, instead of giving you a hand without a 
 heart and perjuring myself by uttering an empty vow at the altar. 
 However harshly the world may condemn me, you, sweet saint, will 
 say : " He obeyed the voice of conscience and of feeling. He wished 
 to spare me misery even at the risk of his own reputation." For I shall 
 be severely, unsparingly censured, Lois, when it is known that we are 
 once again only dear friends. We ought never to have called our- 
 selves anything else. That was the false step, not this. 
 
 Write me but one line to say that you pardon me, and do not cast me 
 off utterly. I shall always pray for and love you as the best friend 
 Heaven ever bestowed upon one so unworthy as is your faithful brother, 
 
 DAVID RODMAN. 
 
 " Wait for an answer," said the author of the manly 
 epistle to the office-boy, who had carried so many 
 others to the same address. "And hurry back; I have 
 an engagement." 
 
 This was true, for within the hour he stood in Chris- 
 tine March's tasteful morning-room to which none but 
 very highly-favored visitors were admitted, and with- 
 out a word of preface laid a scrap of paper upon the 
 desk at which she was pretending to write letters. It 
 was an open note, and he retained the envelope while 
 she read : 
 
 MY DEAR MR. RODMAN : You were quite right to tell me the truth. 
 I hope you may be very happy with her whom you have chosen, much 
 happier than you could ever have been with me. Lois GRANT. 
 
 Just three lines in Lois's clear, precise chirography, 
 not an erasure or a blot, although the office-boy waited 
 but five minutes for his answer. 
 
 Christine scanned them intently, a puzzled frown 
 knitting her finely-pencilled brows ; turned the sheet
 
 3o8 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 as if hoping to find elucidation upon the other side, 
 then looked up, very pretty in her bewilderment. " I 
 don't understand it in the least. Is it a riddle without 
 the other part of the correspondence ? What have you 
 told her ? And whom does she speak of as ' her whom 
 you have chosen?' Isn't that too much like Lois's 
 quaint propriety of speech?" laughing lightly. 
 
 His stare of wonder was unfeigned. " It means," 
 he said when he found his senses and voice, " that I 
 am free from the chain that has fretted into my heart 
 from the first moment I beheld you, my angel of light 
 and mercy that I am yours, yours only and forever." 
 
 The siren leaned back in her chair and adjusted her 
 bracelet with a smile of gratified vanity and real 
 amusement. " Dear me ! " she said carelessly, " I 
 shouldn't know what to do with you if you were. 
 Did you never hear of the French lover who objected 
 to marrying the lady to whom he had been betrothed 
 for fifteen years upon the plea that if he did he would 
 be at a loss where to spend his evenings? Make- 
 believe courtship is very enchanting, but I sha'n't be 
 ready for anything more solid and serious for a cen- 
 tury to come. And you really took me at my word 
 when I went off into heroics last night about the law- 
 fulness of our interesting game? I thought better of 
 your sense and experience. Why, I have talked in 
 the same strain to a dozen men before and meant 
 nothing by it. I didn't dream you could be so tire- 
 some as to believe me in earnest, or so insane as to 
 break a bona fide engagement, acknowledged too for 
 so long and in so many ways, with a nice respectable, 
 mature heiress, who would give you money without
 
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 309 
 
 stint and pet you to death just because a fickle mad- 
 cap like me, whose praise as a veteran flirt for flirta- 
 tion's sake is in all the ball-rooms, chose to make 
 great, sorrowful eyes at you." 
 
 She laughed again the merry peal David had so 
 often likened to " fairy bells tinkling o'er the water," 
 and his brain spun around madly a bloody curtain 
 seemed drawn before his eyes. 
 
 " Christine," he said hollowly, bending to the level 
 of the fair, false face, " this is not a moment for jest- 
 ing. You drive me to distraction by affecting to sport 
 with love like mine. You know I worship you, that 
 I exist only in your smile, that the mere imagination 
 of losing you would kill me." 
 
 " Oh, no ! it wouldn't." She shoved her seat further 
 back as if annoyed by his proximity. " Rational be- 
 ings don't die in that way. You know better, or you 
 would stand convicted in your own sight as a murderer 
 whenever you thought of Lois. And you cannot lose 
 what you never possessed. I do not belong to you or 
 to any other man, thank goodness ! When I near 
 the thirties I shall steal a page out of your book and 
 cast about for some good, easy-going, elderly million- 
 aire, who will give me a carriage, a footman in livery, 
 ten thousand dollar diamonds, and piles of pin-money. 
 Why, my clear Mr. Rodman that is what Lois calls 
 you, I see, and it would be naughty in me to be more 
 familiar your income wouldn't keep me in gloves and 
 bouquets, and you won't have the handling of the 
 heiress's money if you don't marry her, you know. 
 Now don't be uncomfortable and profane," for in his 
 frenzy he flung a curse at her in turning away. " Real
 
 310 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 gentlemen don't swear in a lady's hearing. I really 
 did not suppose you would take it so hard. You see 
 I have been flirting ever since I was a baby. I can- 
 not help it, and I honestly believed you an adept at 
 the business, you helped me on so nicely; supposed 
 it was diamond cut diamond between us. The idea 
 that you would actually throw Lois over for me seemed 
 too absurd." 
 
 He forgot manliness with gentlemanly instinct at 
 that. 
 
 " It is a lie ! " he said, in a thick, coarse voice, lay- 
 ing a hard hand upon her shoulder. " A lie, and you 
 know it ! " With another oath, sounding and savage, 
 he strode from the boudoir and down the stairs, slam 
 ming the front door after him. 
 
 Christine ran to the window to get a peep at him as 
 he tramped furiously down the street, head bent and 
 fists clenched. " Who would have suspected him of 
 being such a bear?" she said, half-frightened, half- 
 delighted. " I wonder how people get up a real pas- 
 sion. After all it is unmistakable and far more effect- 
 ive than the finest acting. I suppose I shall not see 
 much of him for a while until he cools down, or goes 
 back to his sisterly friend. ' Her whom you have 
 chosen,' forsooth ! They seem to have taken my con- 
 sent for granted. He has learned a lesson in humility 
 at any rate." 
 
 Four days went by, and neither at rout, opera or 
 upon the public promenade did she see her discarded 
 suitor, and, what was mortifying, nobody appeared to 
 have heard of or guessed at his discomfiture. Ques- 
 tions as to his whereabouts were put to her, but the
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 311 
 
 meaning smile accompanying her denial of all know- 
 ledge of his movements, her maidenly wonder that 
 she should be supposed to be cognizant of these, were 
 thrown away upon the dull or wilful inquirers. The 
 thought that he had committed suicide occurred to 
 her more than once with a force that terrified her. 
 Yet there was pleasurable excitement in the thrill, a 
 feeling even she was ashamed to own to herself, that 
 the catastrophe, when the cause should be told, would 
 enhance her fame, as a man-killer. He had left town 
 upon urgent business, she learned at length, and she 
 comforted herself for the postponement of her public 
 triumph by the discovery that his departure bore the 
 date of the afternoon of the day on which she had 
 dismissed him from her service. 
 
 On the fifth evening after his disappearance she was 
 interrupted while dressing for a party by a message 
 that "-Miss Grant was in the parlor, and wanted to see 
 her immediately upon important business." 
 
 " You should have told her that I am engaged," 
 she rejoined sharply. " It is time I was off now. That 
 handkerchief, Jane, and turn the burner so as to throw 
 the light upon me, not the glass. My complexion is 
 fresh to-night. What can the woman want ? " 
 
 " She says she must see you, ma'am, right away," 
 repeated the maid. " I think there is something the 
 matter ; she looks queer-like." 
 
 " She always does," smiled the beauty, surveying 
 the image in the mirror with undisguised satisfaction. 
 " But show her up. And when Mr. Wilson and the 
 carriage come, let me know just as if she were not 
 here. She may take the hint."
 
 312 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 Lois entered with her quiet step, and without other 
 token of agitation than extreme paleness and a per- 
 ceptible sharpening of her features. " Thank you, I 
 have not time," she said briefly to Christine's offer of 
 a seat. " I had this telegram a quarter of an hour 
 ago. I thought it should have been sent to you 
 rather than to me. So I have brought it." 
 
 It was from Mrs. Bracy. 
 
 " Mr. Rodman met with an accident to-night in 
 crossing the ford. We fear his injiyies are fatal." 
 
 " How shocking ! " exclaimed Christine nervously, 
 and, for her, awkwardly. " But I don't see why you 
 should bring this to me. Of course, I am dreadfully 
 concerned " 
 
 " Will you go to him ? " interrupted Lois. 
 
 Christine uttered a little scream. " My dear crea- 
 ture, what a notion ! What could I do to help him ? 
 And he was nothing to me but a pleasant acquaintance 
 poor fellow ! " 
 
 "You did not love him, then?" asked Lois, in the 
 same dry manner. 
 
 " Mercy ! no ! The truth is " 
 
 " Never mind about explanations. It :s now ten 
 o'clock. The train leaves at eleven. Good-night." 
 
 " Mr. Wilson is down-stairs, Miss Christine, and the 
 carriage is waiting," announced the maid. 
 
 Lois paused upon the threshold. Christine had 
 already thrown her white opera-cloak over her should- 
 ers and taken up her bouquet. Lois noted this and 
 the parting glance she cast at the mirror. 
 
 " You have no message to send in case he should be 
 conscious when I get there ? " she said with an effort.
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 313 
 
 " None ! Except regards and condolences, and so 
 forth. I hope the account of his danger is exaggerated. 
 A pleasant journey to you ; but you'll find it fearfully 
 cold travelling all night." 
 
 The parlor door stood open, and Mr. Wilson, a per- 
 fumed exquisite of the first water, his curly hair parted 
 in the middle and clustering symmetrically about his 
 smooth temples, bowed and smirked to Miss Grant, 
 who returned the salute coldly. " Is this the creature 
 who has supplanted my poor David ? " she thought for 
 a second, then forgot that he had ever been born. 
 
 She set off on her journey by that night's train, and 
 by noon on the morrow stood at David's bedside, 
 Mrs. Bracy had met her with the intelligence that he 
 was still unconscious, and related what was supposed 
 to be a true history of the casualty. The spring tor- 
 rents of Stony Brook, always remarkable for volume 
 and force, had this year been unusually heavy, and 
 early that week had suddenly swelled up to the floor- 
 ing of the bridge, bursting it away from the beams in 
 several places, and otherwise injuring it so seriously as 
 to make the passage dangerous. A barricade was there- 
 fore erected at each end to prevent accidents, and 
 the work of repairing it commenced. Mr. Rodman 
 was travelling on horseback, and probably, after en- 
 countering this obstacle to his progress, had attempted 
 the ford, the waters having greatly subsided. He 
 would hardly have dared to do this in the daytime, 
 but in the uncertain twilight of a cloudy day had no 
 doubt been deceived as to the depth and violence of 
 the stream, and relied upon his intimate knowledge 
 of the crossing to insure his safety. His horse had
 
 314 Z-0W Grant, and Her Reivard. 
 
 missed his footing among the stones and thrown him, 
 or the two been swept down and whirled over and 
 over by the current. Mrs. Bracy was walking upon 
 the piazza when she heard a faint shout for help, and 
 sent off two of the farm laborers in haste to the travel- 
 ler's rescue. They found him lodged between two 
 jutting rocks at the foot of a willow tree. " The very 
 one on which your veil caught, you remember?" said 
 Mrs. Bracy, beginning to sob anew. " His head was 
 badly cut, and the doctors think his brain is injured, 
 even if there is no other internal hurt. My first 
 thought was of you, poor dear "- 
 
 Lois lifted her hand to stop her. Any expression 
 of sympathy or compassion seemed such a vain mock- 
 ery. " It was very thoughtful very kind. If he is 
 still insensible it can do him no harm for me to go in 
 at once." 
 
 And Mrs. Bracy, never guessing that but for this in- 
 sensibility her guest would have shrunk from showing 
 herself to the wounded man, led the way to the cham- 
 ber that had last summer been Lois's own. There 
 had already been a consultation of physicians since 
 her arrival, her aunt's favorite medical man having at 
 her urgent entreaty travelled down with her. He 
 liked and respected her, and was sure moreover of 
 receiving whatever he choose to charge for his ser- 
 vices and loss of time. Yet he wished heartily he 
 had refused to come when he saw her close beside 
 him as he turned from the bed. 
 
 " Is there no hope ?" she whispered, fastening upon 
 his arm a clutch that made him wince. Her mood 
 admitted of no temporizing.
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 315 
 
 " I fear not, my child. The Lord's will be done ! " 
 
 She knelt by the side of the sufferer, her lips upon 
 the limp hand lying outside of the coverlet, her face 
 hidden in the bedclothes. The doctors retired noise- 
 lessly, and Mrs. Bracy, as she followed them, heard 
 the only audible expression of grief that ever escaped 
 the poor girl in the presence of another. 
 
 " O David ! would GOD I could die for you, my 
 love ! my only love ! " 
 
 " Her heart broke then," the good woman would 
 say in after years, never without weeping. " Don't 
 tell me she didn't feel it as much as some women 
 would! " 
 
 David spoke but once in the deadly lethargy that 
 never released him while he breathed. That one word 
 was " Christine" and Lois, who was supporting his 
 head, heard the fond murmur. An hour afterward he 
 died. His mother, to whom unselfish Lois had sent 
 a telegram as she passed through the village on her 
 way to the farm-house, arrived too late to close his 
 eyes. They were sealed down by Lois's tearless kiss. 
 
 They buried him by the side of his father the two 
 stricken women, and then went their different ways, 
 the parent greatly comforted by the tenderness and 
 thoughtful care of her who was to have been her son's 
 lady wife. Lois returned to her desolate home to 
 learn how true had been Mr. August's predictions of 
 the worthlessness of oil lands and oil stock. Her losses 
 were large and irremediable. The bubble had burst 
 utterly, and there were no fragments to glean. She 
 learned also what interested her far more, namely, 
 that David's sudden journey was taken in consequence
 
 316 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 of a rumor of the coming crash. She sent for the 
 gentleman who warned him of the danger, and ob- 
 tained the particulars of the interview. 
 
 "I called at his office at four o'clock," he said. 
 " He was not well, he told me, and looked very pale 
 and haggard. My news shocked then aroused him. 
 At first, he would not credit the possibility of the 
 failure I represented as imminent, but after hearing 
 my reasons for the belief became excessively dis- 
 turbed, getting up and pacing his office floor in in- 
 tense excitement. 
 
 "'This is awful!' he said. 'It is bad enough for 
 all interested, but to me it means ruin and infamy. I 
 have betrayed the trust of another, and such trust ! " 
 
 "'You allude to Miss Grant, I suppose," I replied, 
 soothingly. ' She must know that you have acted as 
 you thought was right and safe. If all I hear of you 
 and your relations be true, you need fear no censure 
 from her.' 
 
 "'Censure!' he repeated. 'If I were to murder 
 her she would forgive me with her latest breath. I 
 must save something from the wreck if I can.' " 
 
 The oil region was a trackless wild remote from any 
 line of public travel, and he pushed on to his destina- 
 tion without halting for sleep or refreshment ; spent 
 twenty-four hours in investigations which only con- 
 firmed his suspicions that all was lost, and started for 
 home. His route lay directly past Mrs. Bracy's door. 
 He had not stopped there on his outward journey. 
 Others bore him to the friendly shelter on his return. 
 
 " He met his death in the attempt to serve me," 
 Lois said with sorrowful pride to Mrs. Miller. " I
 
 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 317 
 
 have never mourned the loss of the money. Since I 
 know that he died in trying to save it I am glad it is 
 gone. It would have seemed like the price of his 
 blood." 
 
 He had remembered her kindly and remorsefully; 
 had never doubted the sincerity of her forgiveness; 
 had by the manner of his death atoned for coldness, 
 neglect, perfidy. If he had lived he would perhaps 
 have come back to her. Now that he was dead, he 
 belonged to her her only. The heartless butterfly 
 who had danced away the hours in which he lay 
 dying ; whose smiles were sunny and false to other 
 men as they had been when he basked in them ; who 
 could name him to her his widow with a pert for- 
 mula of condolence, had no part or lot in her hero- 
 martyr. She wore mourning as for a beloved husband 
 for whose sake likewise she assumed the entire 
 charge of the aged mother, making of her latter years 
 a peaceful and balmy twilight, and finding abundant 
 compensation for all she did and expended in her 
 behalf in the endless stories the parent delighted to 
 tell of her boy his courage, goodness, talents and 
 beauty. 
 
 "And you would have made him such a good wife, 
 my dear," she would conclude these by saying. " He 
 always wrote to me and told me you were the best 
 woman in the world. And he was right. No wonder 
 he loved you." 
 
 " I loved him ! " was all Lois's response. It was the 
 key-note of her existence. 
 
 " It is more than absurd it is pitiable her venera- 
 tion for the memory of that coxcomb ! " Mrs. Miller
 
 318 Lois Grant, and Her Reward. 
 
 imparted confidentially to her crony, Mr. August. 
 " She has given up society entirely, and lives like a 
 Sister of Charity visiting the poor and the sick. She 
 will never marry now ; and look at her widow's 
 weeds! The library where he used to sit with her in 
 the evening is just as he left it, except that his por- 
 trait, a full-length picture and a capital likeness, 
 hangs over the mantel. I know everybody ridicules 
 her, and you must allow that she deserves it. All this 
 grief for a man who cared only for her money who 
 slighted, wounded, and at last openly forsook her ! 
 She hasn't a spark of womanly pride. Such behavior 
 shows a very weak, shallow mind." 
 
 Mr. August was rubbing his nose and eyes to free 
 them from the dust or other irritating substance. 
 " Maybe so! maybe so! In fact I have no doubt you 
 are quite correct, my dear madam. Women judge of 
 such matters so much more impartially than men do. 
 It is as you say a very singular case ; but hasn't it oc- 
 curred to you sometimes that it shows a very strong, 
 deep heart ? "
 
 ONE OLD MAID. 
 
 THE Scribas were dining en famille on the afternoon 
 of the last day of the year. Mr. Scriba, gentlemanly 
 and quiet one of the solid men of the town, who, if 
 he found solidity 'a serious matter, was yet amiably 
 disposed toward the world that had bestowed the dis- 
 tinction upon him discussed the contents of his 
 plate as he did most subjects, with deliberate care, 
 the slight plait between his brows becoming a shrewd 
 and solid man. Mrs. Scriba had been passably pretty 
 in her youth, and being plump and well-dressed was 
 even more comely in the autumn of her matronhood. 
 Complacent in her house, the dinner, her toilet and 
 her children ; satisfied with her husband, and content 
 for the time with her servants, she listened with 
 beaming face to the merry rattle of the young peo- 
 ple, answered indulgently and judiciously the various 
 appeals to her judgment and memory. 
 
 There were four of her children at the table John, 
 Jr., aged twenty-five ; Emma, twenty-two ; Effie, 
 eighteen, and Harry, thirteen. They were all goodly 
 to look upon, pleasanf of temper, well-educated and 
 stylish. I do not like the word, but through much 
 use it has come to express what I mean a certain 
 air of high-bred fashion and ease that is not put on 
 319
 
 320 One Old Maid. 
 
 and off with one's clothes. The equally well-looking 
 young gentleman who sat at Emma's right was Mr. 
 Edwin Rowland, her betrothed, and therefore enti- 
 tled to a place in the family circle even upon not-at- 
 home days, and such is New-Year's Eve generally in 
 households that expect to be overrun by emulous 
 friends on the morrow. Only nobodies paid visits on 
 this day, and the Scribas were too near the top of the 
 tree to trouble themselves about that class of their 
 fellow-creatures. Sitting there under their own fres- 
 coes and chandeliers, they suffered no thought of 
 possible intruders to make them afraid, and enjoyed 
 the goods of fortune with open hearts and happy faces. 
 
 Until the conversation struck something projected 
 into the frothy current by John, that diverted it from 
 its course. Effie, a giddy tease, had accused him of a 
 lack of philanthropy in remaining single to the ripe 
 age of twenty-five, " when so many worthy women 
 were sinking into elderliness and melancholy without 
 the husbands to which their merits entitled them." 
 
 " I am not a philanthropist ! " asserted her brother 
 boldly. " I have no patience with the stock cant 
 about doing good to one's kind, self-immolation for 
 the elevation of others and the like heroic humbug. 
 I don't want to serve my age one-tenth as much as I 
 want to serve myself ; to make such use of my time, 
 talents and money as will make me wisest and hap- 
 piest. Providence has put me into John Scriba's 
 keeping and he means to take excellent care of the 
 consignment." 
 
 "But it is surely nobler to live for others?" ven- 
 tured Emma, with a slight blush.
 
 One Old Maid. 321 
 
 John laughed. " Put it in the singular, Em, and I 
 grant you it must be a nice thing so very com- 
 fortable as to come within the range of my philosophy 
 of self-improvement. What I inveigh against is sepa- 
 ration, not identification of interests ; this making 
 one man's meat to be another's bane. When it comes 
 to that, I respectfully decline the bane. ' Live and 
 let live ' is a decent and sensible motto. To die that 
 other people may live and have a jolly time is to my 
 perception simply and barbarously unreasonable." 
 
 " That is a terrible blow at heroism, as exemplified 
 by ancients and moderns," said young Rowland. 
 " What would become of the poet-historians if you 
 class Curtius, Lycurgus, Arnold Winkelried and a host 
 of other stand-bys among the world's chief simpletons, 
 instead of worthies ? No, Emma is right. Self-ab- 
 negation is a glorious thing. There is a spring in 
 every man's heart that stirs at such stories as these ; 
 that chokes and blinds him when he hears, in our 
 day, of conduct like Herndon's, the commanding of- 
 ficer of the Central America. You remember it, Mr. 
 Scriba? And so should you, John. When the ves- 
 sel was foundering, he kept the men on board at bay 
 by force of exhortation, command and threat, until 
 all the women and children were in the boats, then 
 suffered the remaining places to be filled by other 
 passengers. There were still many on the sinking 
 steamer for whom no room could be made. Herndon 
 put his favorite servant in the seat reserved for him- 
 self, took off his watch and sent it by the man with 
 a parting message to his wife. ' As for me, I shall 
 stay by the ship, and with these! ' he said, pointing to 
 14*
 
 322 One Old Maid. 
 
 the doomed band. These were the last words the 
 survivors ever heard him speak." 
 
 " That' was grand ! sublime ! " cried Emma, twink- 
 ling back the tears that applauded the story and her 
 lover's rhetoric. " Is it possible, John, that you can 
 see no beauty in such conduct?" 
 
 " Beauty ! do you call it? I name it arrant folly, 
 the rankest kind of absurdity, since he threw away 
 his life for an idea. The sacrifice did not save the 
 meanest creature in what you term ' the doomed 
 band.' They died as surely as if he had not wid- 
 owed his wife and perhaps beggared his children. 
 You can extract no grains of romance out of my 
 composition, Em. Even in my boyhood I saw the 
 fatuity of that undersized, overrated prig, Casabianca, 
 the boy of burning deck notoriety." 
 
 " I thought his name was Pat Malloy," interrupted 
 Harry. " The song says so. What are you all laugh- 
 ing at ? " hotly, as the merriment heightened. 
 
 " ' The boy stood on the burning deck, 
 His baggage checked for Troy ' " 
 
 " Miss Boyle ! " announced the footman, throwing 
 wide the dining-room door. 
 
 A tall, meagre lady entered wrapped in a thick 
 plaid shawl, simpering and blinking as the blaze of 
 the gas-lights struck her eyes. 
 
 " I am afraid I have called at an inopportune mo- 
 ment, but I get out so seldom, and I could not deny 
 myself, to-morrow being New-Year's, and I was at 
 your very door as I may say "
 
 
 One Old Maid. 323 
 
 " Miss Boyle, allow me to present Mr. Rowland," 
 said the stately host, checking her in mid-career. 
 
 " Happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Rowland." 
 Miss Boyle bowed stiffly, yet low, until Effie after- 
 wards declared she was afraid she would break in the 
 middle, backing away as she did so from the gentle- 
 man who had arisen to be introduced. " I have often 
 heard of you from our mutual friends cannot meet 
 you as a stranger, as indeed I know you are not in 
 this house," another simper. " Fine winter weather 
 this, Mr. Rowland ; bracing to the entire system. I 
 enjoy walking pedestrian exercise in cold weather 
 much more than I should riding although the street 
 cars are a great convenience it imparts a fine glow 
 to the whole frame. No thank you, my dear girls, 
 positively nothing for me ! It is near my tea-hour, as 
 you are aware ; I cannot think of tasting a morsel." 
 
 " Sit down, Co. Coffee will be brought up directly," 
 said Mrs. Scriba, in the tone of good-humored patro- 
 nage people near the top use to those at the foot of 
 the allegorical tree aforesaid. " You will feel better 
 for eating and drinking something warm. James, take 
 Miss Boyle's hat and shawl." 
 
 " I won't trouble James thank you, Juliana! Since 
 you are so urgent, I will just loosen my shawl but 
 not remove my bonnet. Thank you ! " to the waiter 
 who set a chair for her next Mrs. Scriba's. ''I am 
 absolutely ashamed to put you all to such trouble. 
 I only said to myself in passing I will just peep in 
 for half an instant to see how they all are and to wish 
 them ' Happy New-Year.' It has been such an age since 
 I saw you, and I get out so seldom, and to-morrow of
 
 *' 
 
 324 One Old Maid. 
 
 course no lady can show herself in the street. No, 
 my dear Harry, no oyster/^// for me, thank you ! I 
 rarely touch such rich dainties. No wine, thank you, 
 John ! Or, if you insist, just the wee-est drop 
 enough, thank you! Dear me ! am / keeping the 
 table waiting?" 
 
 " There is no haste," remarked Mr. Scriba, politely, 
 while Effie said she was glad there was somebody to 
 keep her in countenance, " since she was not half 
 through her dinner, having talked while the others 
 ate." 
 
 Miss Boyle would not be put at her ease. She felt that 
 she ought to make herself agreeable, especially to her 
 new acquaintance ; but the walk in the frosty air had 
 sharpened her appetite ; the dinner, so much more 
 savory than she was wont to see on her own board, 
 appealed irresistibly to her senses. She was keeping 
 everybody waiting, she could see, despite the well- 
 bred feint of occupation kept up by most of the 
 party ; her bonnet-strings got into her plate ; the wine 
 titillated her palate until she had to cough behind her 
 napkin, vulgar as she deemed the action ; the trained 
 waiter's attention embarrassed her, especially as she 
 turned her head to thank him every time he offered a 
 dish, and she was unused to eating in the presence of 
 so many people. The sweat she would have said 
 perspiration oozed in minute specks to the surface 
 of her sallow skin by the time she laid down her knife 
 and fork, her hunger but half-appeased. She remem- 
 bered, just in season to mention it in justification of 
 her ravenousness, how little dinner she had eaten at 
 noon.
 
 One Old Maid. 325 
 
 " I had just taken my seat at the table when I was 
 interrupted, and when quiet was restored I would 
 say a degree of comfort that is, when I could resume 
 my meal, I found the zest had departed. Indeed I 
 do not think dining alone is conducive to appetite at 
 any time. I consider sociability the very sauce of 
 ahem ! gastronomical refreshment. Do not you agree 
 with me, Mr. Rowland?" 
 
 Emma thanked her lover in her heart that his smile 
 was polite, not one of amusement. 
 
 " I do, madam, entirely. I think fasting is prefer- 
 able to taking one's meals in solitary wretchedness. 
 Cheerful society and conversation upon pleasant topics 
 even such accessories as the tasteful arrangement of 
 the dishes a clear, soft light, flowers and fair faces 
 surrounding the board, undoubtedly promote not only 
 appetite but digestion ; and the reverse likewise holds 
 true. We study these things too little as a nation 
 and as individuals "- 
 
 " A very just observation," Miss Boyle interposed 
 hastily. "Very neatly put. My dear Juliana, how 
 well you are looking; and Mr. Scriba, also. You are 
 actually renewing your youth. It is a gleam of gen- 
 uine sunshine, the glimpse at this festive scene. This 
 ice cream is truly delicious ; and what luscious grapes." 
 
 Nevertheless Mr. Rowland noticed that she plucked 
 but a single berry from the cluster, leaving the rest 
 upon her plate. 
 
 " What noble oranges ! " she exclaimed when they 
 were passed to her, and selected one which was laid 
 beside the grapes. 
 
 The gentlemen quitted the dining-room with the
 
 326 One Old Maid. 
 
 young ladies, leaving Miss Boyle alone with the host- 
 ess. Mr. Rowland sat opposite the oper door of the 
 parlor, fifteen minutes afterwards, when the lean fig- 
 ure tip-toed through the hall, still with the air of being 
 in the house upon sufferance. She was accompanied 
 by Mrs. Scriba and Harry, and the latter had a cov- 
 ered basket in his hand. The visitor's apologies, ut- 
 tered in a wheezing undertone, were quite audible to 
 the young lover, while she halted to put on her over- 
 shoes and tie a thick veil over her best bonnet. 
 
 " It is a downright imposition, Harry, dear, to make 
 you play porter, but your mamma most generously 
 pressed the hamper upon me. Say ' Good-night ' to 
 the girls for me. I hear the piano, so won't disturb 
 them. If I were not pressed for time for I have not 
 outlived my love of music I should be tempted to 
 linger. I think one never outlives a real, honest love 
 for anything. Good-night, Juliana ! I have had a 
 charming visit charm'mg" 
 
 " Harry, be sure you put your aunt on the right 
 car," was Mrs. Scriba's parting injunction. 
 
 " Aunt ! " Emma's betrothed believed he had not 
 heard aright. He had supposed the gaunt spinster 
 who had made herself so uncomfortable as his vis-h-vis 
 at table to be an old school friend, or at the nearest, 
 a far-off poor relation of his plump mother-in-law-ex- 
 pectant. Yet he now recollected that Mrs. Scriba's 
 maiden name was Boyle. This was then her own 
 sister whom he had never seen, who had never been 
 named in his presence. It was odd. The duet was 
 finished and Effie flitted back to him from the piano. 
 
 " I hope your abstraction is born of our music, and
 
 One Old Maid. 327 
 
 not of a sudden passion for our fascinating aunt," she 
 said saucily. " Em, Mr. Rowland is congratulating 
 himself upon your resemblance to Aunt Co. It is so 
 nice to think that you will look just like her when you 
 are Mamma!" as Mrs. Scriba entered, "how old is 
 Aunt Co? Forty? fifty? seventy-five? a hundred?" 
 
 " She looks older than she really is, and her secluded 
 life has made her old-fashioned in dress stiff in man- 
 ner," responded Mrs. Scriba, with gentle seriousness. 
 " Don't laugh at elderly people, dear, or papa and I 
 will come in for our share." 
 
 " Now, mamma, as if I could. But why must old 
 maids be " 
 
 " Old maids ! " supplied John. " Don't struggle 
 for an expressive adjective. I have covered the whole 
 ground. Celibacy in man or woman is an offence 
 against natural laws, and the offender bears the stamp 
 for all time. Nobody, for example, could mistake our 
 excellent aunt for anything but an elderly maiden of 
 increasingly uncertain age." 
 
 " She is an excellent woman," said Mrs. Scriba, yet 
 more gravely. " And although you may not credit it, 
 Miss .Effie, she was really handsome in her youth, be- 
 sides being very vivacious and pleasing in conversa- 
 tion. Young people are incredulous and uncharitable 
 as regards the ravages of time and care." 
 
 " They needn't make one finical aud artificial," 
 murmured Effie to her sister, somewhat sobered by 
 her mother's manner. ''What is it, James? " to the 
 servant who appeared at the door with a card in his 
 hand. 
 
 " A gentleman to see Mr. Scriba, ma'am."
 
 328 One Old Maid. 
 
 Mrs. Scriba took the card, and her face lighted up 
 instantly. " He's in the sitting-room, James. Take 
 this to him when you have showed the gentleman in 
 here." She advanced a step nearer the door, and the 
 irrepressible Effie made time for her query. 
 
 " Who is he, mamma ? " 
 
 " Mr. Lloyd Aleck Lloyd we used to call him ; an 
 old friend whom I have not seen since John there 
 was a baby." 
 
 The stranger was on the threshold as she said it. 
 He was tall and sinewy, erect in figure, quick of eye 
 and motion although his hair and beard were grizzled. 
 The spectators noted without interpreting it the 
 searching glance that swept the room ere his hand 
 met Mrs. Scriba's in a long, hearty grasp. 
 
 " I cannot tell you how great this unexpected pleas- 
 ure is," said the lady, cordially. 
 
 " What must it be, then, to me, who have not 
 looked upon my former home and friends for almost 
 a quarter of a century ? " said a deep voice, so round 
 and pleasant as to prepossess his youthful auditors at 
 once in his favor. "And to meet you so becomingly 
 surrounded enhances the enjoyment. Are these all 
 yours?" 
 
 " Almost." 
 
 The visitor caught the meaning of her smile. 
 
 " More congratulations ? " asked he, returning it 
 brightly. " There is no need to tell me which are al- 
 ready and quite yours. I see father and mother in 
 each face." 
 
 Effie was the prettier of the two, as the wicked witch 
 well knew, and she was puzzled to understand why he
 
 One Old Maid. 329 
 
 looked oftener and more earnestly at Emma during 
 the half hour that he stayed. 
 
 " He's the most delightful old gentleman I have 
 seen this century," she grumbled aside to John. " And 
 I always had a fancy for being an ' auld man's dar- 
 ling.' " 
 
 Mr. Lloyd had lived in Mississippi since his removal 
 from his native city, the Scribas learned in the course 
 of their familiar chat. He had married there, had 
 three sons born to him, and was now a widower. Effie 
 imagined that her mother looked more serious at this 
 announcement than was required by decorous regret,' 
 his wife having died three years before. 
 
 " I wonder if she suspects in him a possible aspirant 
 for my hand ! " she meditated, maliciously. " But 
 won't I tease her for that when he's gone !" 
 
 The seriousness deepened into sadness when he 
 contrived to talk aside with the lady of the house for 
 a few minutes just before he took his leave. Effie 
 was near enough to catch the drift of the confer- 
 ence. 
 
 " Your sisters are well, I hope ? Do they live near 
 you ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Rawdon resides in Hartford, but I see her 
 frequently. She has a fine family and a beautiful 
 home. My youngest sister " there was no mistak- 
 ing the mutual embarrassment that prevented them 
 from meeting one another's eyes " still lives at the 
 old homestead. It was left to her, you know. Her 
 health is very good. She was here this evening a 
 little while before you came." 
 
 A second's pause, in which his mien questioned
 
 330 One Old Maid. 
 
 the bent head and waiting eyes and his lips were 
 mute. 
 
 " She is still single," Mrs. Scriba added, unable to 
 resist the silent interrogation. " The reason or 
 what she construed long ago into a reason for not 
 changing her condition exists still." 
 
 " I shall try to see her to-morrow," and he turned 
 to his host to ask some question about local poli- 
 tics. 
 
 " Mamma," whispered Effie, crazed by curiosity, 
 yet half-awed by the magnitude of her discovery, 
 dancing up to her mother's side by the time the guest 
 passed from the parlor, " was he an old beau of Aunt 
 Go's ? Did she really ever have one ? " 
 
 " Yes, and threw him away for a whim," ejaculated 
 Mrs. Scriba, petulantly, also sotto voce. 
 
 " You don't say so ! But it seems so queer. Why, 
 he's splendid ! and she isn't ! " 
 
 " Hush, child ! I will tell you all about it by and 
 by. Some things are not suitable subjects for parlor- 
 talk." 
 
 To her husband, when they went together to their 
 own sitting-room, she said : " What a wreck that 
 obstinate girl has made of her life. But for her over- 
 strained notions of duty and persistency in her mad 
 scheme she might marry Aleck Lloyd even now. He 
 cannot name her yet without emotion. He is going 
 to see her to-morrow." 
 
 " She would do a good thing for herself in marry- 
 ing him," observed Mr. Scriba, in a matter-of-fact 
 way. " But it is not at all likely that he will be in- 
 clined to renew his suit when he sees her. He is rich
 
 One Old Maid. 331 
 
 and a live man, full of energy and enterprise. He 
 has kept up with his generation ; she has fallen far 
 behind it. You will see that nothing will come of the 
 visit." 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Boyle was making her way by car 
 and on foot to a quiet street quite on the other side 
 of the city. The night was clear and cold ; but the 
 pavements were damp from recent heavy rains, and 
 the stiffening mud at the crossings was mixed with 
 half-melted snow. Aunt Go's feet sank into it sev- 
 eral times above her rubbers, and more than once she 
 clutched the basket tightly and threw out the other 
 hand to balance herself upon the slippery flagging. 
 It was a disagreeable thing this going out on winter 
 evenings alone. Yet it was nobody's business to look 
 after her. Her nephews were kind and respectful 
 when they met. Harry had stopped a car for her and 
 seen her safely into it, getting on himself for a mo- 
 ment to put her basket in after her and to pay her 
 fare, as she discovered when the conductor came 
 through. His mother had given him his orders 
 probably. His aunt could not have expected, indeed 
 would not have allowed the lad to accompany her 
 all the way a full mile at least. Still less could slie 
 suppose that John would put himself to such incon- 
 venience. She could get along safely enough; was 
 accustomed to dispense with the service of an escort, 
 as they all knew. Only there was a tremendous dis- 
 tance between her sister's home and hers on this 
 New-Year's Eve; between the two who for twenty 
 years had lived in the same house, known the same 
 joys and griefs. Juliana's life had been growing
 
 332 
 
 One Old Maid. 
 
 deeper, richer, brighter every year, and month, and 
 day ; hers narrowing and glooming in like ratio. 
 
 " Not that I would complain," she thought, depre- 
 catingly,-as was her wont to think and to speak, and 
 she drew both ankles out of a very sloshy gutter. 
 " Of course I know it is the Lord's will, but I do get 
 sore and tired sometimes. I have learned not to mind 
 many things that used to seem unbearable ; but there 
 are others that will get at the quick, do what I will to 
 ward them off. I suppose it is with the sensibilities 
 as it is with my feet," helped to the simile by another 
 mud-hole ; " the rubber doesn't go all the way up." 
 
 She was at home a plain but spacious house, with 
 what had been in its day a Handsome flight of stone 
 steps leading to the front door. It was a dingy quar- 
 ter, from which fashion had long since fled, although 
 it remained perfectly respectable. Miss Boyle let 
 herself in with a latch-key and went along a dimly- 
 lighted entry to a back room, whence issued an odd 
 sound, like the plaining of a cross child, uttered in a 
 coarse masculine voice. Shriller tones made response 
 as Aunt Go's hand touched the lock. 
 
 " Hush up that noise ! You'd ought to be well 
 shaken, you had ought ! It ain't my fault she isn't 
 here to give you your supper. If I'd my way you 
 would go to bed without it. Be quiet, or she shan't 
 ever come home ! " 
 
 Amid the burst of lamentations aroused by this 
 threat Miss Boyle entered. Something sat on the 
 floor in the middle of the room, whimpering and rub- 
 bing one eye with a big fist a woman as tall as Miss 
 Boyle herself, and obese to unsightliness ; with a
 
 One Old Maid. 333 
 
 thick hanging jaw and small eyes set very far apart, 
 low forehead, beetling brows, long upper lip and a 
 mane of coarse gray hair hanging over her shoulders 
 a creature from which sane humanity turned, sick at 
 the caricature of itself. The face was wet with tears 
 and smeared with dirt from her soiled hands, but she 
 stopped crying at sight of her sister. Springing up, 
 clumsy and eager, she ran to her, caught hold of her 
 dress and babbled in furious gibberish, illustrating 
 her meaning by angry gestures toward the other oc- 
 cupant of the apartment. This was a shrewish little 
 woman in cap and spectacles, who without noticing 
 the pantomime stooped to lift a tea-pot from the 
 hearth to a round table set on one side of the 
 fire. 
 
 " Yes, my baby ; sister knows," responded the 
 guardian, patting the fat cheek, and smiling fondly. 
 " Sister didn't mean to leave her so long. Now Lulu 
 will be good and she shall have something nice for 
 her supper. Has she been very troublesome, Mattie ? " 
 to the sharp little maid. 
 
 " 'Bout's usual. She's always ugly as sin. She 
 throwed a new handkerchief of yours into the fire, 
 and would 'a sent your work-box after it if I hadn't 
 ketched it as 'twas goin'. You was out later'n com- 
 mon, and she worried awful 'bout that. She knows 
 when time's up well as you do." 
 
 " It is wonderful how smart she is ! " commented 
 Miss Boyle, in plaintive admiration. " I didn't mean 
 to be away so long I just ran in for a minute to see 
 Juliana." 
 
 She was washing the idiot's face with a wet cloth,
 
 334 One Old Maid. 
 
 and panted out the broken bits of sentences in a 
 frightened way that seemed to be habitual to her. 
 
 " Hold still, my precious child ! You see I hadn't 
 seen her for an age and they were just at dinner 
 such an elegant affair it was, too I wish you had 
 seen it, Mattie and Emma's betrothed was there, a 
 very handsome, agreeable young man he is and they 
 would make me sit down, although I told them I 
 hadn't time and I ran away the minute I was through 
 eating. That is," with conscientious accuracy, " the 
 instant Juliana had this basket ready. Yes, there is 
 something in it for Lulu," the idiot was tugging at 
 the cover; " but she must eat her bread and milk first, 
 like a nice girl, and not slop it over the table or pull 
 the cloth off as she did at dinner-time." 
 
 Lulu began to cry again ; then stopping suddenly 
 laughed yet more disagreeably, and pointed to a large 
 grease-spot on the carpet. 
 
 " The carpet will have to come up before that can 
 be cleaned," snapped Mattie. " I've been at work 
 scouring it, off and on, the whole afternoon. If she'd 
 been mine I'd a boxed her ears for that job. She 
 knowed better." 
 
 Lulu spit at her spitefully, and Miss Boyle stepped 
 between them. 
 
 " Here, Mattie, that is for you," she whispered, 
 covertly conveying an immense bunch of black Ham- 
 burg grapes into her hand the cluster had been 
 saved from her own dessert. Juliana had sent some to 
 Lulu ; but these were honestly her own, and she threw 
 them as a sop to the household Cerberus. "Lulu 
 doesn't mean to be naughty, but it is natural for Mat-
 
 One Old Maid. 335 
 
 tie to get a little, just a little out of patience with her 
 sometimes when she is very mischievous. Mattie is 
 very good and kind, and Lulu mustn't be cross to her." 
 
 " She'd behave herself more like folks, if somebody 
 else wasn't so partial with her," growled the sharp one. 
 " It ain't the right way to manage 'em, as I've told 
 you a thousand times. If she was in a 'sylum, she'd 
 be taught after a different style, I can tell you." 
 
 Miss Boyle's face twitched. " Don't speak of it, 
 Mattie. Haven't I thought of all that? I can't be 
 hard upon her. I haven't the heart to do it even if 
 I hadn't promised my mother. The Scotch call them 
 ' innocents.' I remember mother told me that when 
 I was a little child. It has helped me often and often 
 when I remembered it." 
 
 They were twins these two and the fond mother, 
 who had just finished Madame de Stael's popular 
 romance, had them christened respectively Corinne 
 and Lucile. Corinne grew up shapely in body and 
 intellect ; Lucile had never spoken an articulate word, 
 never passed in mind the first year of babyhood. It 
 was a sore affliction to the father, and, as they came 
 to the understanding of it, a trial and mortification to 
 the brothers and elder sisters. But to the mother 
 and Corinne, Lulu ivas the most interesting member 
 of the household. Her bursts of temper, her crying 
 fits, the demon of wanton mischief that continually 
 possessed her, the helplessness that demanded the 
 constant services of one or the other of her devoted 
 nurses, could not weaken their attachment. When 
 the father, secretly urged by the other children, spoke 
 of hiding what he was disposed to regard as a family
 
 336 One Old Maid. 
 
 disgrace in the safe seclusion of an asylum, Mrs. 
 Boyle's terror and indignation were like the rage of a 
 bereaved lioness. The subject was never broached 
 again while she lived. She survived her husband but 
 a year; and dying bequeathed the unfortunate girl 
 a sacred legacy to her twin-sister's keeping, exact- 
 ing from her a promise that she would never be over- 
 persuaded to abandon her to the care of hirelings ; 
 that while Corinne lived her household should be 
 Lucile's also. Corinne gave the pledge without visi- 
 ble hesitation. She was alone with the sick woman. 
 There was no one by to remind the parent of the 
 blight she was laying upon her child's life, to remon- 
 strate against a sacrifice so disproportioned to the end 
 to be gained, or to mark how deadly white grew the 
 girl's face as she made the vow. For Aleck Lloyd and 
 she were troth-plight even then, and the mother knew 
 it. In the death-hour she remembered it, perhaps 
 with futile misgivings, for her eyes turned wistfully to 
 the faithful daughter nearest her pillow. 
 
 "About Lulu," she whispered. " If there were any 
 other way, if Aleck should not like it but if he really 
 loves you he will not mind! You will watch over 
 her, will you not ? Nobody else cares for the poor 
 darling." 
 
 " My home shall be hers while she and I live," re- 
 peated Corinne, steadily. She had sworn to her own 
 hurt, but she changed not at the united expostulations 
 of brothers, sisters and friends ; went not back from 
 her word when her betrothed husband besought her 
 to lift the shadow from his path and hers, to delegate 
 to others the heavier duties involved by her accept-
 
 One Old Maid. 337 
 
 ance of the trust. Without violation of her pledge to 
 her mother she might engage a keeper a trustworthy 
 person, who could be with the imbecile night and day 
 and her asylum be his house. 
 
 " Ours, dearest, for in the sight of heaven you are 
 my wife. Have mercy upon me ! Be just to your- 
 self ! Is it right to bind down your free, full life to 
 such a service ? To crucify your heart that an idiot 
 girl who cannot appreciate your devotion may not be 
 subjected to the trifling pain of being tended by a 
 stranger ? " 
 
 " I see now more plainly than I ever did before 
 that she would be a curse in any home but mine," was 
 the sadly-patient rejoinder. " I will not take her into 
 yours, Aleck ; I love you too truly for that." 
 
 Within a month after the mother's death the twins 
 were left to themselves in the old house. Mrs. Boyle 
 had willed it to them with a sufficient sum for their 
 support. The other daughters were married ; the 
 brothers settled elsewhere. Aleck Lloyd went " out 
 West." The words were a synonym for " lost " at the 
 date when the Boyle homestead was in a fashionable 
 locality. It was out of the world now, and so were 
 the inmates. For twenty-tour years the twain had 
 lived there together without other companionship 
 than such servants as could be hired to assist in the 
 work of an establishment to which there was such an 
 objectional appendage as the mischievous, mindless 
 " Lulu." Mattie had, as she put it, " stuck it out " for 
 ten years as " help," not servant. She liked to rule ; 
 and in consideration of her privileges in this respect 
 she stayed on from month to month, always grum, 
 15
 
 338 One Old Maid. 
 
 bling, and making herself at once indispensable and 
 terrible to the nominal mistress. 
 
 Twenty-four years! Aunt Co thought them over 
 when the tea-tray had been removed and she had put 
 Lulu to bed and waited to see her sound asleep. Her 
 time was at her own disposal for some hours. The 
 fire burned brightly in the sitting-room. Sharp Mattie 
 was as neat as her mistress, and the old-fashioned fur- 
 niture was in irreproachable condition, dustless and 
 shining. The curtains were dropped, the reading- 
 lamp was on a table in front of the grate, and a rock- 
 ing-chair beside it. Miss Boyle understood the prac- 
 tice of many small economies. She was not as rich as 
 when her mother left her this house and the rent of 
 certain others. Her property had depreciated in value 
 until her income just met the necessary expenses of 
 the small family. She never complained ; and her 
 wealthier kinspeople spoke approvingly of her modest 
 wants and thrifty management, and made her New- 
 Year's presents of hot-house fruit and sweetmeats. 
 She made over these to Mattie and Lulu. But she 
 did like to read. A new book was a Lethean spring, 
 in sipping which she forgot time and care. One lay 
 on the stand now a gift from Effie, who " found it 
 too solemn for her taste," and amiably handed it over 
 to her' novel-reading aunt. The title was "Waiting 
 for the Verdict," and a little silver paper-cutter Aleck 
 had given her was laid between the leaves against a 
 spirited wood-cut of a kneeling woman ; her arms 
 crossed on the sill of an open window, her head em- 
 braced by them. Her hair floated wide, and the tense 
 clasp of the locked hands told the intensity of her
 
 One Old Maid. 339 
 
 supplication. Underneath was written, "THOU know- 
 est I have need of these things ! " 
 
 Aunt Co adjusted her eye-glass and scanned the 
 print long and fixedly. The book sank gradually to 
 her knee ; the eye-glass fell into the place of the silver 
 marker. No need of that to read the record of the 
 four-and-twenty years stretching in monotonous drear- 
 iness between her and all she could rightly term life. 
 Youth was gone forever, and all of beauty and grace 
 and sprightliness she had ever possessed. It was as if 
 a butterfly had folded its wings tightly and been fas- 
 tened again into the chrysalis. Whims and habits 
 little " old-maidisms " learned in her straight and 
 eventless existence clung to her like barnacles to a 
 becalmed ship. The petty, oftentimes annoying, of- 
 tener ludicrous peculiarities that incrust the characters 
 of so many single women, are not always the offspring 
 of selfishness. They seem to me more like dead 
 shoots that would have been noble, beneficent growth, 
 had not circumstances stifled them in their birth. 
 
 " I am different from most people," said the dreamer 
 to herself, drawing a deep breath. " Different from 
 what I once was. Most different from what I might 
 have been had the Lord appointed to me the lot I 
 would have chosen for myself. It's past my finding 
 out. He knows I have needs, too," glancing at the 
 book. " Somehow I feel them more than usual to- 
 night. I suppose it was seeing them all so happy at 
 Juliana's and Emma and Mr. Rowland Bless me ! " 
 aloud. " That is the door-bell ! Somebody wanting 
 to inquire the way to somebody else's house, prob- 
 ably."
 
 340 One Old Maid. 
 
 But after the front door opened a man's footsteps 
 came along the hall. Getting up in a flutter, she 
 shook out the skirt of her black alpaca and adjusted 
 her head-piece of brown ribbon. Announcements 
 were a refinement of etiquette unknown to Mattie. 
 She merely pushed back the door, said huskily, 
 " There she be," and returned to the kitchen fire. 
 
 " Is this Miss Corinne Boyle ? " 
 
 She saw nothing but the hand, half-extended, after 
 she heard the unforgotten voice that hailed her ear, 
 and, it seemed, her soul also. 
 
 " I don't wonder you ask, Aleck," faltered the poor 
 lady, standing stock still by the chair from which she 
 had arisen ; " but I should have known you any- 
 where." 
 
 Then she was ashamed of it even while the excite- 
 ment of the meeting was fresh upon her she put her 
 handkerchief to her eyes and cried heartily. The soft- 
 hearted Westerner came down at once from the stilts 
 of comparative strangerhood. He made her sit down, 
 helped himself to a chair and begged her to compose 
 herself. 
 
 " I should not have come in upon you unexpect- 
 edly," he said, and went on to tell how, being in town 
 for a day or two, he could not resist the temptation of 
 calling to see a few of his oldest friends ; and how he 
 had just missed her at Mr. Scriba's. " I had a delight- 
 ful visit there. What a charming family your sister 
 has ! Emma reminded me of you," he added. 
 
 By this time it was safe to lower the handkerchief 
 and apologize for her nervousness. They talked for 
 an hour after that ; of old acquaintances and old
 
 One Old Maid. 341 
 
 times, and the changes that had come into their lives 
 especially his since they parted. Talked as elderly 
 friends nothing more. This was not the woman 
 whose image Aleck Lloyd had kept locked away in the 
 far-in chamber of heart and memory for the twenty 
 years in which another woman had called him hus- 
 band ; which he had brought forth to the light, and 
 studied of late until he had obeyed the ardent impulse 
 that urged him to seek and woo her if she was still 
 single. He had come to her from the gladness and 
 beauty of her sister's home, the treasured picture the 
 fairer and more distinct after seeing pretty, modest 
 Emma, saying to himself as he hurried along, " We 
 were made for each other, I will make her believe this." 
 He was met by a prim, neutral-tinted spinster, who 
 towered up lankly and bonily for an instant, then 
 dropped into a chair, without touching the back, and 
 cried into a starched handkerchief until her prominent 
 nose was red. The shock killed love, and romance fled 
 affrighted out of sight. He could not squeeze the hand 
 half covered with a black silk mitt. It would have 
 been absurd to put his arm around the flat perpendic- 
 ular of her waist. Cured were the passion and the 
 pain of expectancy ; gone like a mist was the dream 
 of reunion and constant companionship. Something 
 besides duty put and held them asunder now. What 
 a fool ! what a sentimental simpleton he had been to 
 forget that a woman must fade fast in a life like hers ! 
 fade, and shrivel, and dry into hardness ! He was 
 very kind with all this going on within him ; so sorry 
 for her in her isolation that some sweet drops of com- 
 fort dropped through his talk into the starving heart.
 
 342 One Old Maid. 
 
 " I may not see you again soon," he said, rising at 
 half-past nine. " Perhaps never again in this world, 
 for our ways lie far apart." 
 
 " Far, indeed," echoed his heart drearily over the 
 crumbled image. 
 
 " But I wish you would let me help you feel that I 
 had been of some use to you before we part." 
 
 A silvery tinkle on the marble-topped table diverted 
 his eye from the face that was very gray and wan in 
 the lamp-light, and strange, with the bunches of curls 
 he had thought a bewitching setting for it when it was 
 young and rosy, which were wiry corkscrews now. 
 The book-marker had fallen off a pile of books where 
 Miss Boyle had laid it. He took it up ; looked at it 
 intently as it lay in his palm. 
 
 "You have kept it all this while, Corinne ?" 
 
 She did not speak. Knowing that he was going 
 from her again and why how could she ? 
 
 " It was a happy time," mused the disenchanted 
 lover to himself, not to her, although he spoke aloud. 
 " So fair, it grieves one to think it is dead with so 
 many other dear and beautiful things. Yours is a sad 
 lot, dear old friend. I wish I could comfort you in 
 some way ; do something to lessen your privations, or 
 give you pleasure." 
 
 " I do not complain. I have fallen into the Lord's 
 hand, not that of man," Miss Boyle said meekly, look- 
 ing up at him. " I have tried to do my duty in a 
 humble sphere, but still it was duty. I know my best 
 friends have blamed me do blame me. It has trou- 
 bled me sometimes that they didn't see things as I do, 
 but I have this great cause for thankfulness : The Lord
 
 One Old Maid. 343 
 
 has never let me doubt for a moment that I was bear- 
 ing the cross He meant for me and for nobody else. 
 It would have been a great deal harder had I ever im- 
 agined that I had gotten hold of the wrong one. 
 And there are compensations. The poor child is very 
 fond of me. It keeps up one's heart to know that 
 one is absolutely necessary to some living creature. 
 She couldn't get along without me." 
 
 " This is all the comfort she has. This persuasion 
 is all the fruit of her twenty-four years of bondage," 
 thought Aleck Lloyd, as he tramped back to his hotel 
 with a great void in his heart. " Heaven help her ! " 
 
 Miss Boyle turned out the light, looked at the grate 
 to see that the fire was safe, at the windows to be sure 
 they were fastened, and went slowly up-stairs. The 
 gates of Paradise had opened a very little way, and in 
 swinging to had dashed her to the ground. The 
 cross was heavy and sharp, and the thongs that bound 
 it upon her very tight and cruel. Her face was grayer 
 and more drawn as she made the arrangements for 
 the night in her chamber, omitting none of her old- 
 maidish precautions and " notions." When she knelt 
 to pray the faded lips parted for the first time since 
 she had said " Good-by" to Aleck. 
 
 " THOU knowest I have need of these things," she 
 groaned. "THOU knowest ! THOU knowest! " 
 
 It was the drowning wretch's death-clutch at the 
 rock. She felt it beneath her a sure foundation 
 when, far into the night that had been for her sleep- 
 less, the mindless creature who had not slept away 
 from her side in all these years stirred and cried out 
 in a distressing nightmare.
 
 344 One Old Maid. 
 
 " Yes, my baby," as her hand was caught fast by the 
 dreamer. " Sister knows." 
 
 The words came involuntarily to her lips, but they 
 broke the spell of the dumb anguish. Slowly through 
 the thick darkness the light of the better knowledge 
 dawned. 
 
 " Sister knows ! " She said it a hundred times a day. 
 It meant protection, strength, sympathy, whatever 
 was loving and reassuring. The imbecile did not 
 grasp the full import of it ; understood neither the 
 extent of her will nor her power to serve her, but the 
 mere sound quieted her. 
 
 " She trusts me as I ought to trust my Heavenly 
 Father. I am in His sight as ignorant and helpless 
 as she is in mine. As she gropes for me in the dark- 
 ness, help me, LORD, to feel after THEE ; and when I 
 have found THEE, to hold ! " 
 
 My story has preached its sermon. Sad is it, dear 
 and patient readers? I grant it; sad and yet so true 
 that my heart has ached in the writing as it did in the 
 hearing of the simple tale of the heroism of a lowly 
 heart in one of life's by-places. In my short-sighted- 
 ness I would had this been a fancy sketch have 
 given Corinne's history a happier ending. And yet 
 when she has passed through the mire and frost (for 
 she still lives upon the earth), when no longer tired and 
 sore, she finds all the goods of which she had need 
 here with greater and more abundant riches in the 
 light and warmth and companionships of the " other 
 side," she may think that the tenderest love could 
 have awarded her no more blessed portion even in 
 this life than to " touch and hold."
 
 NURSE BROWN'S STORY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 I KNOW you feel real bad, dear, but when you've 
 got so much left to be thankful for, isn't it a pity to 
 grieve so for what's gone and can't come back ? " 
 
 I turned my face on the pillow fretfully, and the 
 tears that had been collecting under my eyelids over- 
 flowed upon my cheeks. They were not the first by 
 many I had shed that day. The weather was wet and 
 dark; my husband was away from home; and for 
 two whole days I had seen no human faces except 
 those of my servants and the nurse who had attended 
 me through my six weeks' confinement to my room. 
 
 It had been six weeks to a day on that wild March 
 afternoon since my baby came the baby that never 
 breathed, whom I never saw. It was laid under the 
 snow before I awoke to consciousness after the fierce 
 convulsions had spent their force. I was almost well 
 now, able to walk across my chamber-floor, to sit up 
 most of the day and to see a few intimate friends ; but 
 not allowed to read or work on account of my un- 
 steady brain. And having nothing else to do I moped 
 sadly and perversely. Some women do not care for 
 or want babies. I did. In imagination I had held 
 345 '5*
 
 346 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 mine in my arms a thousand times ; dreamed a thou. 
 sand times of his pretty tricks and winning wiles ; saw 
 him creeping, walking, talking, going to school, to col- 
 lege a stately man, supporting his gray-haired mother 
 with his strong arm. All this I had lost, you see, 
 with the tiny baby that had not once opened his eyes 
 upon my face. People talked lightly of my loss, even 
 those who had children of their own, and this lack of 
 sympathy with my sorrow made me sullen. It was 
 nothing to anybody else that I suffered, not even to 
 Charley, although my loss was his also. But then he 
 had not had time to get acquainted with baby as I 
 had during all those months < of sewing and waiting 
 and castle-building. 
 
 I was thinking of these and other sad things, lying 
 upon the lounge, and seeming to watch the naked 
 boughs of the cherry-tree outside the window as it 
 wrestled with the wind and bowed before the fitful 
 sweep of the rain. The rain that was falling upon the 
 wee mound where my hopes were buried the short 
 low heap of earth I saw all the while, by day and by 
 night, which nobody else remembered ! How often 
 within the last month had I said over to myself the 
 simple words written to me by a friend whose sixth 
 child had died before it was a month old : 
 
 " The days drag by wearily over my aching heart 
 and empty arms." 
 
 That was just it ! The empty arms telling the 
 whole story of the heartache that would not be com- 
 forted. The phrase was in my mind when my nurse 
 broke the silence of the room by her timid remon- 
 strance. She was a quiet and hitherto reticent wo-
 
 
 Nurse Browris Story. 347 
 
 man, past middle age, and to my notion as common- 
 place a person as I had ever met. Charley had sev- 
 eral times hinted his regret that I had not a younger 
 and liv.elier attendant ; but she was gentle, patient and 
 diligent, and I invariably assured him I had no cause 
 of complaint. She was darning his stockings, I recol- 
 lect, as she interrupted my musings ; sitting bolt up- 
 right in a low chair, a prim little figure dressed in a 
 snuff-colored merino, her usual afternoon attire, and 
 which I detested. Her hair was gray and combed 
 away smoothly from her temples to the back of her 
 head, where it was twisted into a queer little hard 
 knot. She had the sallow complexion common to 
 American women who have not gained flesh with ad- 
 vancing age. I had a foolish hankering in those days 
 to have pleasant-looking people as well as inanimate 
 objects about me. I called it a love of the beautiful. 
 Maybe it was, but it was selfish for all that. 
 
 " ' So much to be thankful for ! "' I repeated. 
 "That is what everybody tells me. It is very easy to 
 preach to other people, but each heart knoweth its 
 own bitterness." 
 
 " That's so," assented my companion, meekly. " Yet 
 those who are worst off get no more than the best of 
 us deserve. Many's the time I've justified the Lord's 
 doings with that saying when it seemed as if all His 
 waves and His billows were a-going over me." 
 
 Her humility made me ashamed of my crossness ; 
 her allusion to her own griefs moved me to a faint de- 
 gree of interest. 
 
 " Have you had much trouble, then, Mrs. Brown?" 
 I asked more respectfully.
 
 34 3 Nurse Browns Story. 
 
 4< Trouble, dear ! So much it's a miracle of the 
 Lord's strengthening mercy that I am alive this hour." 
 
 " Did you ever lose a child ? " I ventured, for her 
 manner invited inquiry. 
 
 " One a dear lamb, three years old my first. He 
 
 has been with the Good Shepherd thirty-five years 
 come the fifteenth of May. He may be a man grown 
 in heaven ; he'll always be ' little Eben ' to me. But 
 that was what I call a soft sorrow one that opens the 
 heart, and lets the tears run easy and plenty of them. 
 That isn't the sort that breaks the spirit and fairly 
 withers one up through and through." 
 
 " Withers one up ! " The words struck me. They 
 expressed what I had thought when I first saw her. 
 She was not hard although uninteresting. Nor was 
 she coarse or homely. She looked withered ; like a 
 fruit that had once been plump and sweet, out of 
 which the sap had been dried by frost or heat. 
 
 " I don't understand," said I. " It doesn't seem to 
 me I could bear any more than has been laid upon me 
 lately." 
 
 " Would you think me too free if I was to tell you 
 a little bit of my story? " she resumed, after a pause. 
 " It's been borne in upon my mind very hard all day. 
 Perhaps it's meant for me to talk it out to you and to 
 do you good. Such thoughts are generally sent a pur- 
 pose. Nothing happens by chance to the Father's chil- 
 dren. That's a blessed thing to know and to think on." 
 
 " I should like to hear your history. I always en- 
 joy tales of real life," I said patronizingly, yet sin- 
 cerely enough. 
 
 Not that I supposed she had anything to narrate
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 349 
 
 that could entertain me particularly, but I was not 
 displeased at the prospect of hearkening to something 
 that would cause me to forget for a while the wind 
 crying in the chimney and at the keyholes, like a 
 baby-spirit that had lost its way in the storm. It kept 
 me thinking against my will of the gloomy supersti- 
 tion that condemns the souls of unbaptized infants to 
 wander and wail forever in the outer darkness. 
 
 " It's thirty-nine years to-morrow since I was mar- 
 ried the first time," she began without further preface. 
 " Maybe you never heard I had been married twice ? 
 My husband's name was Eben King, and I mind that 
 Andrew Brown was our first groomsman. We had 
 four, and four bridesmaids ; and my father, for all he 
 was a mechanic, gave us what was for people in our 
 circumstances and in those times a real nice wedding. 
 My dress was Swiss muslin, with white sash and shoes ; 
 and he wore a full suit of blue, except for his white 
 waistcoat and such a ruffled shirt-bosom as you don't 
 see now-a-days. He was always gentlemanly-looking, 
 and carried himself like a lord, and was altogether the 
 handsomest man at the wedding. We had been keep- 
 ing company four years. I couldn't understand then, 
 no more'n I can now what first made him like me. I 
 was never a pretty girl, although I was 'counted to 
 have a genteel figure, and my teeth and hair were 
 good, and I had an easy temper besides being very 
 handy with my needle. I had just learned the milli- 
 ner's trade with Mrs. Bobbinet, who used to keep a 
 millinery and fancy store on Broad Street above 
 Cedar. The house is torn down now, but it was 
 a neat place in its time. I saw some of my hap-
 
 350 Nurse Browns Story. 
 
 piest days there, for Mrs. Bobbinet was not overstrict, 
 although very particular about her girls' morals and 
 modest behavior. I boarded at home with my father 
 and step-mother, and Eben used to come to the shop 
 for me every night if he could get away from his 
 business in time. Mrs. Bobbinet would ask him into 
 the parlor, and talk to him while I put my things on. 
 She said a great many good words for me to him, I 
 guess, and she allowed to me once and again that she 
 didn't think I could do better. We all attended the 
 same church ; she and my parents, and Eben and I. 
 He and I 'joined' the same Sunday. He was very 
 active in the Sabbath School, and sung in the choir. 
 You wouldn't believe what a beautiful voice he had. 
 I never hear ' Denmark ' or ' Lenox ' sung now that I 
 don't find myself a-listening for him on the bass. All 
 my friends were in favor of the match, and as for me, 
 why, he was just perfection in my eyes. He was a 
 clerk in a dry-goods store when I first knew him, and 
 after a deal of planning and talking among us all it 
 was settled that we should set up a fancy haberdash- 
 ery when we were married. We had no bridal tower ^ 
 but the day after the wedding we took possession of 
 our house. Such a cosy home it was ! Back of the 
 shop was a dining-parlor, where we ate and s^at, and 
 saw the few friends who called to see us and where I 
 did all my fancy sewing. The kitchen was behind this 
 small but convenient. I didn't need a larger seeing 
 I did all my own work, and there were just we two. 
 Up-stairs was our bedroom over the shop, and a wee 
 bit of a spare bedchamber. That was all. But, dear 
 me ! we shouldn't have known what to do with more
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 351 
 
 room. And I may say I shouldn't have known what 
 to do with more happiness that first year, my heart 
 was so full. I worked hard to be sure, rising up 
 early and lying down late, but I ate the bread of 
 cheerfulness instead of carefulness. 
 
 " By nine o'clock the housework was all done up, 
 and luncheon set ready in the pantry against we 
 should want it at twelve o'clock. I studied to get up 
 all manner of nice little dishes to please Eben, who 
 had a real gentleman's taste about these matters, and 
 when noon came, however busy I might be, I always 
 contrived to set the table in regular style ; to have the 
 cloth clean and the silver bright. He noticed every- 
 thing, and it would have mortified me terribly to have 
 him find fault with my housekeeping. He tended the 
 store and when there were more customers than he 
 could wait on, he would call me in. I was naturally 
 bashful, but I got to liking to be at the same counter 
 with him he had such elegant manners and was so 
 much respected. It made my heart puff with pride 
 to notice how polite the ladies were to him, and what 
 pretty language he always used to them. He was 
 very popular, as you may suppose, and Mrs. Bobbinet 
 had a way of naming me to her customers that threw 
 as much work in my way as I could do such as em- 
 broidery in silk and cotton, baby-clothes, collars, caps, 
 and so on. I was chirpy as a cricket, sitting in that 
 little back room, stitching away for dear life, with the 
 door open between that and the store, and Eben 
 never out of sight or hearing from morning until 
 night. We shut up at seven o'clock every day except 
 Saturday and had something hearty and nourishing
 
 352 Nurse Browns Story. 
 
 for supper. Then I washed up the dishes, and got all 
 ready for morning, while Eben settled the day's ac- 
 counts. I learned how to do it from looking on. I 
 was never a quick scholard, but I caught an idea from 
 him very easy got it by heart so to speak. After 
 that we went out for a walk in all weathers except the 
 very worst. There's streets and squares I could show 
 you in this town where I haven't dared to walk in 
 more'n thirty years ; they put me so in mind of old 
 times. But they were like the green pastures beside 
 the still waters in those days. We laughed and talked 
 like two children let out from school while we strolled 
 along, and when we did speak of business, 'twas always 
 to say how nicely we were getting along, and how we'd 
 live snug and equinomical for some years to come, 
 until we could buy a store and house of our own. We 
 didn't care to be rich. We only wanted to make a 
 respectable living, and to lay up a hundred dollars or 
 so every year in the Savings Bank. 
 
 " By and by we began to plan for the children we 
 hoped were coming. I often hear ladies with houses 
 full of servants and as much money as they can spend 
 fret at the prospect of an increase of family, because 
 it is such a troOble and expense. We didn't feel so, 
 although my time was money and Eben couldn't af- 
 ford to hire help for me or for himself. I was happier 
 than ever when I was able to be down-stairs again at 
 my stitching and trimming, with my foot upon the 
 rocker of my boy's cradle ; so glad and proud of him, 
 and that he was as like his father as two peas ! A 
 better tempered, sweeter baby never lived. He was 
 next to no trouble at all. By the time he was six
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 353 
 
 months old he would roll about the floor, playing 
 with his ball and rattle for two or three hours at a 
 time, without asking me to do more than speak to or 
 smile at him once in a while. It was lucky he was so 
 forward, for in just eighteen months my little Ruthie 
 was born. I had two children when I was twenty- 
 one. I had to fly around brisk enough then you may 
 be sure to keep things going straight. I don't think 
 my business took any harm from the babies, but I got 
 weakly, what with nursing my girl, and being kept 
 awake at night with little Eby's teeth, and getting up 
 by daybreak to sweep, and dust, and bake, so's to be 
 able to dress both children and have breakfast over 
 before customers began to call. Eben worried over 
 my losing flesh, and not having any appetite, and when 
 at last I had a dreadful faint spell in the middle of a 
 hot August day, he would call in a doctor. They had 
 a long talk in private about me, and the upshot was 
 that I must drink port wine and take bark, and have 
 in somebody to help me in the hardest part of my 
 work, for the doctor would have it that I was killing 
 myself fast. 
 
 " The Lord forgive me ! but I've wished a million 
 times I had gone clean off in that faint, and never 
 come to in this world ! I wanted to live then for my 
 husband and children's sake, and I took the medicines 
 and tried hard to think it did me good, and to per- 
 suade Eben that I was getting stronger. 
 
 " One day my step-mother came to see me with a 
 letter in her hand. 'This is what I call a Providence, 
 Becky,' says she. And she read to me how my great- 
 aunt on my mother's side was dead. The letter was
 
 354 Nurse Brown s Story. 
 
 from my sister Lizzie, who had been adopted by her 
 when my own mother died, and lived with her con- 
 stant ever since. She was three years younger than 
 me, and I was just twenty-two. I hadn't seen her 
 since she was fourteen, for my aunt lived in Ohio, and 
 we had no money to spend in travelling. She was 
 dead now, and there was no will though everybody 
 thought there would be, and Lizzie had been raised to 
 expect a good share of her property. The children 
 and grandchildren came in for it all ; and Lizzie had 
 no home without father sent for her, and nothing ex- 
 cept her clothes and such trifles as the heirs would let 
 her bring away with her. 
 
 " ' The very thing for you ! ' my step-mother says to 
 me. ' There isn't so much as a spare bed in our 
 house, and me and my girls do up the work, sewing 
 and all. And seeing she is your only own sister it 
 does seem a leading of Providence that you should 
 take her right in here, now you are poorly and obliged 
 to have somebody to lend a hand.' 
 
 " It wasn't very warm weather, and I was sitting by 
 an open window, but I got deadly sick all of a sudden. 
 
 " ' Mother,' says I, ' it seems so close and shut-up- 
 like here, I can hardly get my breath. Our rooms are 
 very small and there's very few of them. Now the 
 children are here, we can hardly turn around without 
 stepping on them. I am willing to help Lizzie all I 
 can. I'll allow her half I earn to pay her board, and 
 I know Mrs. Bobbinet will give her a place in her 
 work-room, and maybe in her family, if I ask her. 
 She wants another girl, for she told me so the other 
 day. And,' says I and very strange I thought it
 
 Nurse Browns Story. 355 
 
 afterward that the words should have come to my 
 tongue ' I feel as if it would kill me to have anybody 
 else to live in the house with Eben and me." 
 
 " With that I cried ' like a fool,' mother said. She 
 scolded, and Eben coaxed and begged, and father he 
 reasoned in his sensible way ; and between them all I 
 was overruled into writing Lizzie a letter asking her 
 to make her home with us. It so happened (I don't 
 know as I ought to use the word, but I hate to think 
 that the Lord ordered it) that Eben had business in 
 Pittsburg something about an old debt he had hopes 
 of collecting and I wrote to Lizzie to meet him 
 there, and he would bring her on to us. 
 
 " I felt real bright and spry, for all I had been do- 
 ing double work the five days he was away, the even- 
 ing they got home. Mother had spent the afternoon 
 with me and taken care of the children, so I had got 
 up a nice supper for the travellers ham and eggs, 
 and coffee and short cake I had quite a name for my 
 shortcake and for dessert, a cracker-pudding with 
 raisins in it, and wine sauce. Mother and father took 
 supper with us, and we had a merry time. I couldn't 
 keep my eyes off Lizzie the whole evening, she was so 
 different from the rest of us. We were a sober, steady 
 family, generally, who didn't set much store by finery 
 and fashion. Mother was very notional about our 
 behavior and the company we kept. I used to think 
 she was too strict when I was a young girl, but I'd 
 begun to understand her better lately. Lizzie was 
 rigged out as I and my half-sisters never dreamed of 
 fixing ourselves up. Her travelling dress was heavy 
 and dusty, she complained, and she would change it
 
 35^ Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 before we sat down to the table, putting on in place 
 of it a buff challe, with pink rose-buds on it. Her 
 hair was thick and dark, almost black, braided behind 
 and curled in front, and the curls were looped behind 
 her ears with bows of pink ribbon. She was dark 
 complected, a real brunette, with a lovely little pink 
 flush under the skin, and her eyes were like two fire- 
 flies, they shone and danced so ; her teeth were very 
 white that ran- in the family and she laughed a 
 great deal besides doing most of the talking. 
 
 "'She's a regular little beauty,' said mother one 
 side to me as she was putting on her bonnet to go. 
 ' Keep an eye on her, or she'll be apt to go wrong ; 
 she's so flighty and vain. I wouldn't let her be much 
 in the store if I was you ; it's too public. Give her 
 housework and sewing to do, and let her amuse the 
 children.' 
 
 " Before three days were gone, I found this was 
 easier said than done. She ' hated housework ; it 
 hardened the hands, and soiled one's clothes.' She 
 ' abominated sewing ; it always gave her the blues and 
 a pain in her side,' and she was ' so stupid about such 
 matters, she was sure she would spoil the nice things 
 sent to me to make.' She said all this in a laughing 
 way, but 'twas plain she meant it. In the shop she 
 was wonderful quick and ' taking ' with the customers 
 especially with the gentlemen, who wanted cravats, 
 and gloves and handkerchiefs. She didn't get along 
 with the children at all. They were always cross or 
 got into mischief when I left them with her while I 
 was in the kitchen or store. 
 
 " ' I don't see why you trouble yourself with this
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 357 
 
 branch of the business,' says Eben to me when Lizzie 
 had been with us about a fortnight. ' You always 
 preferred to sew, and the doctor says it is bad for 
 your back to be so much upon your feet. Your sister 
 does well enough in here ; better than she does in the 
 nursery department, if we are to judge from the noise 
 in the back room. I suppose she has never been used 
 to children, and has no knack at amusing them. I 
 agreed to your having her here upon condition that 
 she should be made useful, and I don't call it useful- 
 ness when she increases your cares by undertaking 
 what she can't do well.' 
 
 " I saw he was vexed I thought because I was 
 looking badly that morning, and Eby was shouting 
 and baby fretting. We always tried to keep the store 
 quiet and pleasant for fear of annoying the customers, 
 and for the same reason we had no cooking done in 
 the middle of the day. I didn't remind him that it 
 was none of my doings, bringing anybody else into the 
 family. All he wanted, as I believed then, was to 
 make things easy for me, and it wasn't in me to throw 
 it in his teeth that Lizzie's coming hadn't done it 
 when he'd meant it for the best. 
 
 "' I'd rather she'd be in the store,' I said, speaking 
 low, ' if you'd promise to watch her pretty sharp. She 
 is so pretty and lively and so ignorant of the ways 
 and tricks of the world, that mother and I thought 
 she'd better be kept in the background out of the 
 sight of the gay young men. I'd be loath to have her 
 led astray in any way. 
 
 " Eben he laughed, and patted me on the head. 
 
 "'While I am here, you needn't be afraid the gay 

 
 358 Nurse Browns Story. 
 
 young men will get a chance to make love to the sis- 
 ter you think so handsome,' he says. 'There's so 
 many prettier girls behind counters, they won't bother 
 her long when they see she's got a brother to take 
 care of her/ 
 
 " It was something pleasanter for me to have her 
 out of the way of my work, though I can't say I had 
 any the less to do. What with her washing and the 
 extra cooking for she'd been brought up delicate and 
 couldn't relish plain food I hadn't any more time for 
 sewing than before she came. Eben didn't understand 
 this, and when I saw how contented he was in the 
 notion that I was really better off, I didn't let on how 
 matters really stood. I even took in more sewing 
 than I had ought to have undertaken to make him 
 quite satisfied with his own arrangement. I had said 
 to him before Lizzie came that she must not make his 
 load any heavier. 
 
 " ' It wouldn't be fair,' says I. ' She shan't cost you 
 a dollar. I'll pay all her expenses out of my own earn- 
 ings and yet put in as much into the common stock 
 as I do now, for I shall have so much more time for 
 fancy work than I get now, and that always pays well. 
 I can't have a sister of mine dependent upon my hus- 
 band.' 
 
 " I kept my word, and when I found that while she 
 had more fine dresses than suited a girl in her station 
 she was bad enough off for underclothes, I stuck to my 
 resolution and sat up nights until twelve o'clock, 
 sometimes later, to make up for the outlay I hadn't 
 expected so soon. 
 
 " ' There's no need of that,' says Eben, when I done
 
 Nurse Brown s Story. 359 
 
 this. ' Nobody wants you to slave yourself to death. 
 It's your own choice. I wash my hands of any share 
 in it.' 
 
 " And I couldn't tell him before Lizzie, or at any 
 other time, how much need there was for me to 
 stretch every nerve and seize every moment if I 
 wouldn't have him go behindhand in his business. I 
 did think myself ill-used in this sometimes, and cry 
 when nobody saw me because he didn't understand 
 that I was working more for him than for myself. I've 
 learned since that many another woman has the same 
 trial and is dumb about it. 
 
 " We allowed Lizzie wages for tending in the store 
 when she'd been with us a month. I didn't see the 
 economy in that, particularly as we had spent so much 
 for her clothes and I said so, but Eben insisted. 
 
 " ' It isn't just nor kind,' he said, ' to employ such a 
 smart girl for her victuals and clothes. She brings 
 enough custom to the store to pay her a liberal salary, 
 if I was to give her a commission upon her sales.' 
 
 " And when I held back still, he said : ' You women 
 are always hard upon each other, but I thought better 
 of you than to suppose you'd grind the face of your 
 own kin and blood.' 
 
 " I gave up at that, and never even asked him how 
 much he allowed her. It wasn't enough to clothe her, 
 I was made to understand from her talk, or she didn't 
 use it for that purpose, for she ' borrowed,' as she 
 called it, of me every month, five, ten, sometimes as 
 much as twenty dollars, and never paid it back, to say 
 nothing of the ribbons, collars, and stuff for other gar- 
 ments she had out of the store, and which I always
 
 360 Nurse Brown s Story. 
 
 charged to myself. I wondered how she got rid of her 
 money until I used to stumble over boxes of confec- 
 tionery, and fruit, and all manner of knick-knacks in 
 her room ; and every few weeks she'd flash out in a 
 new dress, or mantle, or something she'd had made 
 out of the house unbeknownst to me. I dreaded to 
 scold her. I was timid and easy to put down, and 
 she'd a high way with her, a habit of taking things 
 for granted, that cowed me from the first. I was no 
 match for her, and I knew it, although we'd never had 
 a bit of a quarrel. She was nothing but a spoiled child, 
 I'd say to myself, ruined for every-day life and hard 
 work by the old aunt's foolish petting, and I had ought 
 to have charity for her when her giddy talk and extra- 
 vagant ways frightened me who had been brought up 
 so different. Above all things I wouldn't find fault 
 with her to Eben. Blood is thicker than water. She 
 was my sister, and I'd stand up for her. So long as I 
 took care he wasn't the poorer for her fancies and 
 follies, he had nothing to do with what she cost me. 
 But 'twasn't till long afterward I discovered that he 
 suspected I was stuffing a private purse of my own 
 with what I made by extra work. The confinement 
 in the store told upon Lizzie after a while. She 
 had headaches and turns of low spirits and began to 
 droop about the house. I had made her go out every 
 day, while I took her place at the counter, but she 
 said ' lonely walks gave her the horrors.' Then I sent 
 her out in the evenings instead of asking her to sit 
 with the children half an hour or so while I got a 
 breath of fresh air, and I told Ebeh he must go with 
 her ; take her to a lecture or a panorama, or some-
 
 Nurse Browris Story. 361 
 
 thing now and then to freshen her up. He said 'No* 
 at first, and something about my needing exercise and 
 recreation, but a very little reasoning brought him 
 around. Every night they were off together, at last 
 staying later and later, and I hardly noticed how long 
 they were away, so busy was I with the work I did on 
 the sly, for fear Eben should guess what a care and a 
 cost my sister was. 
 
 " Ten months after she came my Jamie was born. 
 Mother was in every day to do the heavy work and 
 dress the baby. She was very kind so far as words 
 went, and I knew if she had a favorite among father's 
 children it was me, but she tried me awfully by throw- 
 ing slurs upon Eben a thing she'd never done before. 
 He ought to have got me a nurse, or at least a wo- 
 man to scour and cook. It was plain to be seen he 
 hadn't the consideration for me he used to have ; that 
 he was getting selfish and careless ; that I had too 
 much on my mind to get well fast ; and much more of 
 that sort of talk I was too weak to answer, or tried to 
 pass off as a joke. This was nothing though to the 
 way she went on to Lizzie. She told her up and 
 down that she was a useless, expensive piece of furni- 
 ture, fit for nothing but to look at ; a bother to decent 
 people and a snare to weak and wicked ones. Lizzie 
 answered her back for a while, for she had a spirit of 
 her own, though, to do her justice, she wasn't often 
 cross or bad-tempered, but by and by she listened as 
 mum as could be and nobody could tell from her face 
 whether she minded it or not. I was the first to find 
 out what this meant. One day, when mother had 
 washed and dressed the baby and laid him down by 
 16
 
 362 Nurse Brown s Story. 
 
 me, and gone home to get her own house to rights, 
 Lizzie, she spoke right out. 
 
 " ' I won't be hectored and bullied any longer ! ' says 
 she. ' I've stood it as long as flesh and blood can. 
 That woman's got no right to lecture me, and she 
 sha'n't do it again. I made up my mind I'd let her 
 have her say for a whole week, and that I wouldn't 
 answer her ; but there's no sign of her tiring herself 
 out, and I must take care of myself. I shall speak to 
 brother about it to-night.' (She always called Eben 
 'brother.') 'We'll see whether he will protect a 
 motherless girl in his own house.' 
 
 " ' For the love of mercy, Lizzie,' said I, ' don't open 
 your mouth about this fuss to Eben ! He's quick- 
 tempered, and he's that fond of you he'd be ready 
 to shut the door in mother's face the next time she 
 comes.' 
 
 " *'I don't see where the harm would be if he did,' 
 says she, with a spiteful laugh. ' And excuse me for 
 saying it, Becky, if you had the right feeling for your 
 husband you couldn't take her abuse of him as quietly 
 as you do. My blood boils to hear her speak of him 
 as she does, and so ought yours.' 
 
 " ' It does hurt me,' I says, as calm as I could speak. 
 4 But I know mother so well that I can make allow- 
 ances for her. Her bark is worse than her bite. Some- 
 thing has crossed her lately, and she can't hide it. She 
 has been too kind a friend to me and too good a wife 
 to father for me to pick a quarrel with her at this late 
 day. Hard words break no bones,' says I, a-trying to 
 laugh. ' And if we have patience we'll live through 
 this pelting.'
 
 Nurse Brown s Story. 363 
 
 " ' I think, sometimes/ says she, looking right at me 
 with her great, bright eyes, ' that you have no heart at 
 all, you take life so easy. You're just like iced milk- 
 and-water and I'm spiced wine. It's as much as I can 
 do to hold my tongue when I see you going round and 
 round in the treadmill every day, thinking of nothing 
 but how much work you can crowd in between mid- 
 night and midnight, and caring for nobody except 
 those whining babies. I often say to myself: "I'll 
 give her my opinion of her, hot and hot, before this 
 day is out. I always did hate these sanctified 
 prudes.'" 
 
 " I couldn't speak at once, I was so taken aback, 
 and my heart got hotter and bigger until the aching 
 fairly choked me. 
 
 " ' I am sorry I don't please you, Lizzie,' I managed 
 to say presently. ' It isn't natural to me to -show my 
 feelings by words, but I try to serve and help them I 
 love as well as I can.' And then, being weak and 
 nervous-like, the tears would come in spite of all I 
 could do to keep them back. 
 
 " ' Oh ! '.says she, with a sneer, ' if you're going to 
 cry I have done talking. That's the style of all you 
 meek, pious, yea-nay women ! ' 
 
 " At that minute we heard little Eby crying, down- 
 stairs, ' Yizzie ! Yizzie ! ' in the most pitiful voice you 
 can think of. 
 
 " She did not stir from her chair. She was crimp- 
 ing a frill for herself with a case-knife, and she kept 
 on with it as if she didn't hear the darling. He called 
 again, ' Yizzie ! Yizzie ! ' and cried as if his heart would 
 break. It's thirty-five years ago, Mrs. Marley, but I
 
 364 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 am woke up sometimes now of nights by hearing him 
 say it, and me a-laying there not able to move ! " 
 
 The sallow face flushed. She dropped the needle, 
 that had moved steadily up to this time, and raised 
 her apron to her eyes. 
 
 " Don't go on ! " I begged, little guessing what was 
 to follow. " I cannot have you distress yourself in 
 this way, Mrs. Brown, interested as I am in your 
 story." 
 
 " It eases the load a little to talk about it to some- 
 body who can feel for me," said the poor woman, 
 simply, wiping her spectacles and picking up her work. 
 " I won't give way again. I've been a-thinking too 
 much to-day. It's David, isn't it, who says, ' While I 
 was musing, the fire burned ? ' And, somehow the 
 wind makes me feel kind of lonesome. After a little, 
 says I, for I couldn't lie still and listen any longer, 
 and I had a ' milk leg,' and wasn't able to rise : 
 
 " ' Lizzie,' says I, ' would you mind seeing what ails 
 the child? He never cries that way without he's 
 hurt.' 
 
 "'Hurt!' says she, and her eyes snapped. She 
 acted that day as if she was possessed. ' Not he ! 
 He's perishing for the want of a rousing whipping, and 
 I'll make it my business .to see his pa gives him one. 
 He's the crossest-grained, most contrary brat I ever 
 beheld! And you're as big a baby as he is! Hold 
 your noise there, will you?' for the child was coming 
 up-stairs. 
 
 " She got up and flounced out of the room to stop 
 him, leaving the door open. I could see the head of 
 the stairs from my bed, and I had a fair glimpse of 

 
 Nurse Brown s Story. 365 
 
 Eby's face, all wet with tears, just above the floor. 
 He was holding up his finger, which was streaming 
 blood. We found afterward he had cut it badly with 
 a piece of broken glass. 
 
 " ' Yizzie! ' he sobbed again, as she reached him, 
 and clutched her apron with his bloody hands to 
 steady himself in climbing to the top step, which was 
 higher than any of the rest and awkward for children. 
 She was always very nice with her pretty aprons and 
 she tried to jerk it away from him. He held fast to 
 save himself from falling; she lost her balance and 
 down the stairs they both pitched head first. 
 
 " I screamed louder than either, and struggled and 
 fought to get out of bed ; but it was just as if I had 
 been chained hand and foot. I could do nothing but 
 lie there, and listen, and tremble, and pray if you 
 could call that praying which was just saying the same 
 thing over and over again ' Father, have mercy upon 
 them ! Have mercy upon them ! ' 
 
 " There was a terrible commotion going on below. 
 When they fell, it seems there were customers in the 
 store ; and at the noise they all rushed with Eben 
 into the back entry, and saw the two lying in a heap 
 at the bottom of the steps, the child undermost. I 
 heard the talking, and the bustling back and forth 
 and the groaning as them that were hurt was lifted 
 up and carried into the parlor. Then somebody said : 
 'Run for the doctor!' And Eben called out two or 
 three times like one distracted : ' My darling, my dear 
 love, speak to me! Where are you hurt?' Next 
 was the sound of the doctor's voice ; I knew it in an 
 instant.
 
 366 Nurse Brown s Story. 
 
 " ' Shut that door ! ' was the first thing he said, and 
 I understood it was to prevent me from knowing what 
 was passing. 
 
 " But I could judge something of what they did by 
 what came up through the floor. I half raised myself 
 on my elbow^ and listened as for the sentence of my 
 own doom ; and when the baby awoke and fretted 
 I put him to the breast, and leaned down again to- 
 ward the floor. Once there was a sharp, awful scream 
 from Lizzie, and Eben was trying to soothe her, and 
 the doctor spoke louder and more positive-like, and 
 she fell into hysterics, and there was worse confusion 
 than ever. All this time I didn't hear a word nor a 
 cry from my boy, strain my ears as I might, and I be- 
 gan to take comfort from this. Maybe he wasn't hurt, 
 although the stairs were steep, and it had been a 
 frightful crash when they struck the bottom. But 
 children had such wonderful escapes; their bones 
 were so soft, and their bodies light. It was strange 
 he made no noise, but his father was there, and a 
 word from him would have kept him quiet. Still I 
 was repeating aloud : ' Have mercy upon them ! Have 
 mercy upon them ! ' at the end of half an hour (they 
 said it wasn't longer, but it was more like half a year 
 to me), when somebody came slowly up the stairs, 
 and I saw it was mother, pale as the dead and so sol- 
 emn my heart went down within me. 
 
 "They had sent for her to break the news to me 
 that Lizzie had broken her arm, she said. 
 
 " ' And Eby ? ' says I. 
 
 " ' I won't deceive you, Becky,' she says, and told 
 me that he had fractured his skull and was dying.
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 367 
 
 " ' Tell Eben to fetch him up here/ I says, so quiet 
 she stared at me. But I really didn't feel just then. 
 I wasn't stunned neither, I think, for I knew exactly 
 what I was saying and what had happened. ' Don't 
 let anybody else touch him. Lay him right here by 
 me.' 
 
 "' Mother made them do just as I ordered, although 
 Eben was very unwilling to have it so, and the doctor 
 would have hindered it if he could, for fear, he said, 
 'twould excite me too much. I was past being ex- 
 cited. I didn't shed a tear, though Eben was sobbing 
 aloud as he brought up the boy our first-born, Mrs. 
 Marley and put him where I showed him I wanted 
 him to be. 
 
 " They had washed the tears off his face, but his 
 eyelids were swelled from crying, and his sweet mouth 
 was pouted with the distress and pain he thought no- 
 body not even his mamma pitied him for. He lay 
 close to me ; his poor, bruised head upon my pillow, 
 his cheek against mine, for an hour, breathing shorter 
 and shorter until he died."
 
 PART II. 
 
 " How could you bear it ? " cried I, in a horror of 
 grief and pity. " Didn't you feel like cursing her who 
 had caused all this?" 
 
 " Not then," said the nurse in significant simplicity. 
 " It does seem strange to me sometimes that I could 
 bear it and live. But as I said awhile ago my heart 
 melted instead of breaking. It couldn't have been 
 otherwise when Eben threw himself down by his dead 
 boy and prayed to die with him. I called him, and he 
 came at once, took me in his arms and sobbed over me. 
 
 " ' My precious wife ! ' he said. ' Can you ever for- 
 give me? I am not worthy of your love. This is a 
 judgment sent to chastise me for my great sin. But 
 it has fallen upon the innocent too/ 
 
 " I thought he was raving, and tried to keep back 
 my tears that I might comfort him. It was his talk 
 about forgiving him who had never to my knowing 
 injured me, that put Lizzie into my head. 
 
 "'She must fee* dreadfully," I says to mother, who 
 was helping move my Eby's body into the other room, 
 and getting the clothes to lay him out in. 
 
 " ' She'd ought to ! ' she put in, snappish-like. 
 
 " I minded afterward how Eben lifted his head from 
 my shoulder, as if he was about to answer back. I 
 didn't give him time. 
 368
 
 Nurse Browris Story. 369 
 
 "'She is more to be pitied than me,' said I. ' She 
 didn't mean to hurt the child,yet she was the cause of 
 what happened to him. I know she must be suffering 
 terribly. Eben, dear, would you mind going to look 
 after her? She is hurt badly in body, too ; we may 
 help her. Nobody can do Mm any good,' says I, be- 
 ginning to cry again. ' But I've a notion the pain in 
 my heart wouldn't be so sharp if I tried to ease some- 
 body else's trouble. I want you should tell her from 
 me, Eben, that I saw it all, and that we understand it 
 and won't, either of us, lay it up against her seeing it 
 was an accident.' 
 
 He got up to do as I said, but mother she stopped him. 
 
 " ' Your place is with your wife,' she says, in her 
 quick way. ' I'll see to the girl. She'll do well 
 enough, never fear.' 
 
 " He minded her right off, but I could see he didn't 
 relish her manner of speaking. He didn't like being 
 dictated to at any time. 
 
 " ' I hope she'll be kind to Lizzie,' he says presently. 
 ' The poor girl is almost crazy. As you say, she is 
 the one most to be pitied. You are a dear, loving, 
 sensible creature, and know how to feel for others.' 
 By and by he mentioned Lizzie again. It was plain 
 that she weighed heavy upon his mind. ' She is so 
 sensitive and impulsive,' he said, ' and has such strong 
 feelings, I am really uneasy as to the effect this will 
 have upon her.' 
 
 "At that I said: 'Mother is busy in the other room, 
 and I think Lizzie is lying on the lounge in the parlor. 
 Now and then I can hear her crying. Step down and 
 see for yourself how she is getting along.' 
 16*
 
 3/o Nurse Browris Story. 
 
 " He kissed me and the baby before he went, and 
 I lay still thinking and crying quietly to myself, and 
 striving to make up my mind to the Lord's will, for 
 ever so long. Mother was talking low with a neigh- 
 bor in the next room, and I could catch the sound of 
 Eben's voice through the flooring if I listened atten- 
 tively, but nobody came near me until it was near 
 dark. Then it was mother who knocked at the door. 
 
 " ' Why ! where's Eben ? ' she says, surprised. 
 
 " I told her how I had sent him down to Lizzie, and 
 how anxious we were about her. 
 
 " ' You needn't be/ says she. She always fired up 
 when Lizzie was named. 'She'll never die nor go 
 crazy with grief. I've no patience with her or her 
 affectations. And I tell you what, Becky,' sitting 
 down on the side of my bed, 'you're spoiling her with 
 all your might. You'll be sorry for it some day.' 
 
 " ' Maybe so, mother,' I said. ' But I can't be sorry 
 to-day that I've done all I could to relieve her suffer- 
 ings. She'll be haunted for life by my darling's last 
 look and cry. I've been thinking it over lying here. 
 We can't be too charitable or kind to her.' 
 
 " ' I shall speak to your father about taking her 
 home right away. I'll tell him she's in the way here 
 at this time,' says mother, after thinking for a minute. 
 ' And when she's well again, we must find another 
 place for her. She's done harm enough in this house 
 already.' She looked so stern that I was frightened 
 at the idea of trusting Lizzie in her hands. 
 
 " ' Don't, please ? ' I begged, as for my life. ' I 
 wouldn't have her think that I dreaded to see her 
 again, or that the sight of her could ever be painful
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 371 
 
 to me. It would be like accusing her of murder. 
 Think what the Saviour says, " Whatsoever ye would, 
 therefore, that men should do unto you, do ye even so 
 unto them." If I were in her place, such treatment 
 would kill me.' 
 
 " ' You're not her,' says mother ; but when I went 
 on to plead with her she soothed me by promising to 
 do nothing against my will at present. I didn't see 
 Lizzie till the morning of the funeral. It was Eben 
 who persuaded me to send for her. I suppose you'll 
 think me inconsistent, Mrs. Marley, after all I've said 
 of being sorry for and forgiving her, but I did shrink 
 from meeting her, although she was never out of my 
 mind for a minute. I'd only to shut my eyes, and I'd 
 see her a-standing at the head of the stairs, frowning 
 and scolding at the child, and jerking her apron away 
 from his tight little fingers. It was this made me say 
 I knew she'd be haunted all her days. I was to be 
 kept perfectly still, said the doctor, for the brain was 
 over-excited, and mother wouldn't let nobody but fa- 
 ther and Eben so much as peep at me. She'd gone 
 home to dress for the funeral, and Eben was sitting 
 by me and they'd brought the coffin into my room 
 and left it there that I might have a last, long look at 
 my boy, when my husband said, kind and gentle as 
 could be : 
 
 " ' Dear wife, won't you see that broken-hearted 
 child and be reconciled to her over this little coffin ; tell 
 her that you will try to feel towards her still as one 
 sister should for another? She is grieving herself to 
 death about your refusal to let her come into your 
 sight. Can't you bury your enmity with our first-born ? '
 
 372 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 " That cut me to the quick. ' O Eben ! ' I cried, 
 ' You don't think I could bear ill-will to anybody just 
 now, least of all to my own flesh and blood ? Haven't 
 I said all along that I forgave her freely?' 
 
 "'Actions speak louder than words,' he says, very 
 solemn and sad. ' What is the feeling that makes 
 you wish to shun her? Ask yourself the question.' 
 
 " I had but one answer to make. ' If you think it is 
 unkind and unchristian not to ask her in to see me, I 
 wish you would bring her. I don't want to deceive 
 myself or to hurt her feelings.' 
 
 " She came in pale as ashes, her arm in a sling; and, 
 at the sight of the black dress she'd put on to wear to 
 the funeral, I burst out crying and opened my arms to 
 her. She was my sister, you see, and my heart was 
 very tender because it was so sore. 
 
 "'You won't send me away from you and brother 
 will you ? ' she sobbed, after awhile, raising herself, 
 and grieving as I was I couldn't but say to myself 
 how pretty she was, for her curls were flying loose, 
 and her eyes brighter than ever with tears. ' It's all 
 the home I have in the wide world, and I'll serve you 
 on my knees, if you will but love me and let me stay. 
 I don't deserve any comfort from you, Becky, but I'm 
 so miserable ! so miserable ! I wish I had been killed 
 instead of Eby ! ' 
 
 " Eben was crying, too, with me, and his voice 
 shook, but he said : ' You shall always have a home 
 with your sister, Lizzie. She is too true and noble to 
 be angry with you for what has happened. We will 
 stand your friends, let what will come.' 
 
 " Mother came to see me a day or two after Eby
 
 Nurse Browrts Story. 373 
 
 was buried, and began to urge me to let Lizzie go to 
 father's to live until she could find something else to do. 
 
 " ' She's no earthly account here/ says she. ' She's 
 worse than useless, for she's killing you by inches, and 
 she'll do more mischief yet if somebody doesn't take 
 her in hand. I've talked to her time and again, and 
 it doesn't do a mite of good. She's a hardened jade, 
 and she wants a good tight rein. If you must hire a 
 hand in the store, let it be a stranger. You pay this 
 girl more than you would anybody else. And I'll let 
 Matilda come around to help you in housework and 
 sewing until you're strong and well again.' 
 
 " Matilda was my oldest half-sister and mother's 
 right-hand at home. I felt her kindness so much in 
 offering to spare her to me, it made it all the harder 
 for me to explain what we had promised Lizzie. I 
 never saw her so fretted by anything else as she was 
 when I told her how it had come about. 
 
 " ' It's a regular plot ! ' she says. ' A vile, hatched- 
 up plan to take advantage of you when you wasn't 
 able to judge for yourself what was best and right. I 
 don't marvel at anything she does, but Eben had ought 
 to be ashamed of himself ! And you're a weak, silly 
 baby of a simpleton, Becky King! You don't see 
 further than the nose on your face. Because you're 
 a decent, God-fearing woman, that fears to displease 
 your Maker, and would harm yourself sooner than in- 
 jure your neighbor, you take it for granted other peo- 
 ple are like you. You'll repent this promise they've 
 wormed out of you in dust and ashes before you die, 
 take my word for it ! ' 
 
 " I was distressed at her going on so, but I hadn't the
 
 374 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 least idea what she was hinting at nor why she was so 
 set upon getting Lizzie away. The next thing I heard 
 was she had quarrelled outright with Eben. Long 
 afterwards she told me that she talked to him much 
 plainer than she did to me, and warned him very 
 faithful as to what would be the end of the course he 
 was taking. All I was told at the time was that there 
 had been words between them so hard that they 
 didn't speak for more'n two years and mother 
 wouldn't come to the house without she was sure 
 Eben wasn't at home. He didn't object to my going 
 to father's, but he wouldn't go further than the door 
 with me. Yet I must say he behaved very well in 
 the matter. 
 
 " ' I wouldn't be the means of hindering you from 
 visiting your father,' he used to say. ' And, although 
 your mother and I don't agree, she is certainly fond 
 of you and the children. Take them to see her when- 
 ever you like.' 
 
 " I did, often as I could, especially Sunday after- 
 noons, when father was home. He was getting in- 
 firm, and was almost childish in liking to have me 
 with him. He didn't care much for Eben, and he was 
 cross with Lizzie sometimes when she was pert to 
 mother or me, or seemed to look down on the other 
 girls, Matilda and Maria, who were shy and didn't dress 
 or talk as she did. She went with me though say, 
 once a month but she hardly ever stayed the even- 
 ing out. She had many young companions, and she 
 was pretty sure to be off directly after supper, to go 
 to church with this or that one. Eben got in the 
 habit of spending Sunday evenings with his married
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 375 
 
 sister, who lived quite in the suburbs, and was occa- 
 sionally very late in coming to see me home. It 
 never struck me then as queer that he was always 
 early when Lizzie was with me, but I did think once 
 or twice that I wouldn't mind going down the street 
 without him, if she was along to help with the sleepy 
 children. 
 
 " So things went on for two years, until one even- 
 ing I shall never forget the date it was the 2Oth of 
 December, and very cloudy and raw. I had doubts 
 about taking out the little ones that afternoon, only 
 Eben said a little cold weather wouldn't hurt them. 
 He was going to his sister's, and Lizzie meant to 
 spend the night with Mary Bryson, a nice, steady girl 
 who worked at Mrs. Bobbinet's in the place I used to 
 have when I was there. She would often do this, and 
 be home by sunrise Monday morning. 
 
 " ' I met Matilda in the street to-day as I went to 
 church,' says Eben, while I was still considering what 
 was best. ' She told me your father was sick. She 
 was on her way for the doctor.' 
 
 " This settled me. Lizzie walked with me as far 
 as our ways lay together. 
 
 " ' I 'most wish I had not given a positive promise 
 to Mary,' she says, then. ' If I hadn't, I would 
 go with you and see father. Take him my best 
 love.' 
 
 " Mother met me at the front door. ' I'm ever so 
 glad to see you,' she said. ' But it's too damp and 
 bleak for the children to be out. You'd ought to 
 have left them with Lizzie.' 
 
 " ' She's gone to Mary Bryson's/ said I.
 
 376 Nurse Browris Story. 
 
 " ' I'll warrant/ growled mother. ' She's a regular 
 gad-fly.' 
 
 " Father wasn't seriously sick, but he had a feverish 
 cold and a troublesome hacking cough that was very 
 trying to the strength. About half-past eight he took 
 some drops the doctor had left, and fell off into a 
 sound sleep. I was afraid the children would disturb 
 him, for they were wide-awake, by way of variety ; 
 and so when an old friend of ours Andrew Brown by 
 name stepped in to see how he was, I made so bold 
 as to ask him, for I'd known him all my life, if we 
 might go along with him, seeing he had to pass right 
 by our house on his way home. He was very kind, 
 and would carry Jamie, although he was a stout boy, 
 quite able to walk twice as far. I had Ruthie by the 
 hand, and we went on pretty brisk, for it was begin- 
 ning to snow. I carried the key of the side door 
 always in my pocket when I went out, and as the 
 shop stood on the corner we came up to it by the 
 cross-street. 
 
 " ' Why, there's a light in the sitting-room ! ' said I 
 the minute we were in sight of the windows. ' That's 
 odd when there's nobody at home. I hope nothing 
 has caught fire.' 
 
 " ' The light is too steady for that,' said Andrew, 
 but we hurried on faster for seeing it. 
 
 " The shutters of one window were open, but the 
 shade was down a white one with a painted border 
 and as I stopped at the door and began to turn the 
 key in the lock, which always went hard, a shadow 
 passed across the blind. 
 
 " ' There's Lizzie,' says I. ' I suppose she got dis-
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 377 
 
 couraged with the cold, and didn't go to Mary Bry- 
 son's after all. She's coming to the door for me. It's 
 all right.' 
 
 "I gave a wrench to the key that unlocked the 
 door, stopped to say ' Good night ! ' to Mr. Brown, 
 and picked up Jamie, who didn't fancy being set down 
 on the steps. Ruthie was pushing the door with all 
 her might, but it didn't give way, and I put my 
 shoulder to it. It flew open on a sudden, and there 
 stood Eben. 
 
 "'Halloo!' he says. 'You almost knocked me 
 over. What brought you home so early? Babies 
 fretful, eh ? ' taking Jamie from me. 
 
 " I fold him how it happened, and walked into the 
 sitting-room. ' Where's Lizzie ? ' I asked, staring 
 around, for she was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 " ' At Mary Bryson's, I suppose,' and he said it so 
 coolly it took my breath away. ' I haven't seen her 
 since you walked off together this afternoon. I had 
 my walk for nothing, for Julia was not at home ; so I 
 came back, made a cup of tea for myself, and have 
 been sitting here alone ever since.' 
 
 " I didn't say a word, ma'am, nor so much as look 
 as if I didn't believe him, but my heart dropped like 
 a shot bird, for I had made no mistake when I said 
 that was Lizzie's shadow on the curtain. I saw it 
 plain as I do you this minute her side-face, and her 
 curls, and even the bow of ribbon fastening her collar, 
 the long ends blowing behind her as she walked. 
 There never was a painted profile that was more dis- 
 tinct. 
 
 " It's an awful lesson that of distrust in your hus-
 
 378 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 band and it came in upon me like a thunderclap. Eben 
 had lied to me, and done it so glibly and with such a 
 straight face he must be used to that sort of work. 
 I hadn't dreamed of complaining of him or of Lizzie 
 for spending the cold, disagreeable evening at home 
 in each other's company. Why should he want to 
 deceive me? How often had he done it before ? And 
 why ? She had run away to hide, and he had held the 
 door against me until she was safe up-stairs. Why ? 
 Eben helped undress the children and frolicked with 
 them, and I picked up their clothes and put them by 
 in the parlor-closet, and answered his questions about 
 father as if I was thinking of nothing but what he was 
 saying, and all the while my brain danced and turned 
 somersaults to the Why. I was like a person standing 
 on the edge of a precipice, and throwing out his hands 
 to keep from falling over, I felt so giddy. I kept busy 
 as a bee until the children were ready for bed. I re- 
 member now how pleased their father looked when 
 they said they wanted he should hear their prayers. 
 
 " ' And he with a lie in his right hand ! ' said some- 
 thing in my ear. 
 
 " He carried them both up to bed in his arms, al- 
 though Ruthie was a heavy lift of herself, but he was 
 strong as a giant. I heard them having a great romp 
 overhead, and I stole softly up to Lizzie's door, and 
 tried it. It was locked. I poked my little finger in the 
 key-hole, and felt that the key was on the inside. I 
 didn't need proof of the deceit they had practised on 
 me, but I had it in this. Everything in the room was 
 still as death, and there wasn't a glimmer of light. 
 She didn't mean I should suspect she was there that
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 379 
 
 was clear but why should she take such pains to 
 hinder me? All night long I turned the question 
 over in my mind, while Eben slept like a healthy 
 child. He was an early riser, but I hadn't shut my 
 eyes, and I was up before him, was dressed by the 
 time he was awake. He tried to persuade me not to 
 go down-stairs until he had made the kitchen fire, but 
 I was set in my way. I had made up my mind to 
 expose them, to put them to open shame, was foolish 
 enough to think I could be smart enough to circum- 
 vent them. I never lost sight of the hall and the 
 staircase all the while I vvas getting breakfast. Eben 
 came in the kitchen once, and shut the door after him, 
 but I had it wide open again in a second. 
 
 " ' It's hot as fury in here,' says I. ' Leave that as 
 it is, please.' 
 
 " Lizzie couldn't get down without my seeing her, 
 so of course she didn't make her appearance. 
 
 " ' Lizzie is late,' says Eben, when we sat down to 
 table. He had been fidgeting from the top of the 
 house to the bottom for an hour. ' I suppose the 
 storm keeps her.' 
 
 " At that minute the milkman stopped at the side 
 door. The snow was deep and still falling, and Eben 
 had never let me do such a thing before in stormy 
 weather; but he pretended not to hear the bell, went 
 on cutting up Jamie's food and talking to him, while 
 I got up to fetch the milk. I went to the kitchen for 
 a pitcher, then out upon the sidewalk to the wagon. 
 I had hardly crossed the threshold before the door 
 slammed to behind me. Ruthie opened it almost 
 directly.
 
 380 Nurse Browris Story. 
 
 " ' Papa said the wind blew it to,' she said, ' and 
 told me to run quick and open it, or you'd be froze.' 
 
 " I wasn't surprised to find Lizzie in the dining-room 
 when I got back, as if she'd just come in through the 
 shop. She had on her hood, and cloak and gloves ; 
 her cheeks were red as if she had been walking in the 
 wind, and she was actually pulling off her rubbers. 
 
 " ' Such a tramp as I've had ! ' says she all out of 
 breath. ' I thought I'd never get here.' 
 
 " I went up to her and picked up one of her over- 
 shoes. It was dry and warm, while my shoes wefe 
 full of wet snow from having stood in it a half-minute. 
 I said nothing, but I ran my hand into the India-rubber 
 shoe and looked her square in the eye. Then I threw 
 it down and went around to my seat at the head of 
 the table. They were taking a world of pains to fool 
 me. Why ? 
 
 "All this time and for a fortnight afterwards I was 
 angry, and puzzled, and hurt, but not jealous. It 
 didn't once come into my head that Eben preferred 
 Lizzie to me. I was his wife the mother of his 
 children. He had vowed to be faithful to me, and I 
 didn't doubt that he was. It wounded and displeased 
 me that he had lied to me, yet I was a great ways 
 from guessing at his real reason for doing so. Father 
 grew worse, and I managed to see him every day ; sat 
 up with him two nights, leaving the children at home 
 with Eben. I meant to watch a third night yet, but 
 when I went to father's for this purpose, I found 
 somebody else had offered to take my place. Mother 
 walked part the way back with me, for I said I must 
 go home, now there was no need of my staying.
 
 Nurse Browns Story. 381 
 
 " ' You are right to keep watch upon things in your 
 own house,' says she as we parted. ' And my advice 
 to you is to open your eyes well ! " 
 
 " This speech made me uncomfortable somehow, 
 and I suppose put me up to what I did when I reached 
 the house. I had noticed that morning that a slat in 
 one of the shutters was loose. They weren't movable 
 but stationary, and as I opened them I had seen that 
 I could push it up and down. The sitting-room was 
 on the ground floor, and, thinks I to myself, ' I'll see 
 if any passers-by could peek in. It isn't pleasant to 
 imagine that some thieving vagabond may be looking 
 at you when you are busy at night with your work, 
 and maybe all alone in the house.' 
 
 " I pulled the slat ever so gently, and it slipped 
 down an inch at least. There was a bright light in 
 the room, and Lizzie was sitting upon Eben's knee, 
 playing with his hair. I watched them several min- 
 utes before I had strength or sense to move, saw him 
 kiss and fondle her, as he'd no right to treat anybody 
 except only me at least, those were my old-fashioned 
 notions then I knocked at the door. Eben let me in 
 and said how glad he was to see me, and how pleased 
 that I wasn't to have another night's watching; but I 
 couldn't stay to listen. I ran up stairs and locked 
 myself in my room with my children. But for them I 
 would have killed myself then and there, or run away 
 and never, never seen him again. At last I made out 
 through the storm raging within me that he was at 
 the door, and calling to me to let him in. I got up 
 from my knees by the children's bed (although I 
 hadn't been praying) and opened the door.
 
 382 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 " ' Don't touch me,' I said, as he offered to put his 
 arm around me. ' I saw you through the window just 
 now you two. And I know why Lizzie hid from me 
 Sunday night before last, and you told me she wasn't 
 in the house.' 
 
 " He tried to laugh off the matter at first ; then he 
 talked about brotherly affection ; and when I turned a 
 deaf ear, and he saw that I had really seen enough to 
 convince that all this was idle prattle and a false ex- 
 cuse, he owned right out that he did love my sister 
 as a man does the girl he would marry if he could. He 
 couldn't help it, he said. The affections were beyond 
 the control of the will, and so on ; and what harm was 
 done without I chose to make scandal of what I'd 
 found out ? We might live together, a happy united 
 family for years, if I would dismiss my absurd scru- 
 ples and take a sensible view of the case. 
 
 " ' A man isn't responsible for these accidents,' says 
 he. ' I don't like you any the less for being so fond 
 of Lizzie. I've been true to you all the time. You 
 would not be the worse off for my intimacy with your 
 sister if you hadn't chanced to see what I never meant 
 you should.' 
 
 '"If 'twasn't wrong, why did you conceal it from 
 me?' I asked. 
 
 " ' Because I knew you well enough to be certain 
 you'd disapprove of our sentiments and behavior one 
 to the other/ he says. 'And although you don't be- 
 lieve it, I love you so well, I would spare you needless 
 pain. You will do me and my affection justice in 
 time, Becky, but you misjudge me fearfully now.' 
 
 " People didn't talk and write about free-love and
 
 Nurse Browris Story. 383 
 
 affinities and that sort of stuff in those days, and 
 although his arguments sounded very fine, and he 
 could reason me down, I could see what lay behind it 
 all. I told him it was foolish and wicked, cruel to me, 
 and insulting to Him who had ordained marriage 
 and commanded a man to cleave unto his wife. That 
 seemed to me the only right 'view of the case.' More- 
 over for my spirit was fairly roused I wouldn't bear 
 it any longer. Lizzie must leave the house if I ever 
 detected any more of such goings-on as I had wit- 
 nessed that night, or I should take the children and 
 go to father's. I was excited, and maybe spoke too 
 harshly, but it was a sharp cross for a wife to bear 
 from her own sister too. I promised him I wouldn't 
 expose them without they gave me further reason, 
 and that I wouldn't open my lips to Lizzie on the 
 subject. He took most of the blame to himself ' if 
 there was any wrong in what they had done ; ' he 
 slipped that in every other sentence. The girl had 
 attracted him from the first, and she had loved him 
 the instant she set eyes on him in Pittsburg. He'd 
 got some flummery about ' involuntary affection ' in 
 his head, and neither common sense nor religion could 
 work it out. 
 
 " Next morning we were sent for early to see father 
 die. Eben was very kind and useful and sympathiz- 
 ing in all that followed, and he and mother made up 
 their quarrel. There's nothing checks hard feeling 
 like the cold hand of death. He was so like the old 
 Eben to me that I used to fancy I had dreamed all that 
 happened on that awful night. Anyhow I was willing 
 to forget it, and to show that I did. Maybe I hadn't
 
 384 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 acted just right myself, I would say hi my thoughts. 
 I had ought to have kept my husband more to myself. 
 I had as good as given him over to her. True, I had 
 spent labor and thought and health in his service, 
 but it came to me like a bran-new idea, that men must 
 be amused as well as served. That's so, I believe, 
 ma'am, the world over. They mostly don't look deep 
 enough to find the real spring of a woman's love. I 
 often think that nine out of ten of them wouldn't be 
 quite satisfied with less than two wives apiece one to 
 work for her husband, to see to his clothes, his food, 
 and his housekeeping, to bear children and take care 
 of them ; the other to dress nicely, and look pretty, 
 and pet her lord whenever he's at home. And I be- 
 lieve too that the one that did the fancy work would 
 generally be the favorite." 
 
 I could not help smiling. " I never suspected be- 
 fore that you could be satirical, " Mrs. Brown," I 
 said. 
 
 " I ain't sure I quite take your meaning," she an- 
 swered gravely. " I hope I've said nothing ill-na- 
 tured, but some things were burnt in very deep on my 
 mind in those times. I would look at myself in the 
 glass and actually cry over the loss of my color and 
 my bright eyes, and notice how thin my hair got, and 
 how my hands were rough and hard, and bony, and 
 how plain and no-stylish my dress was, and compare 
 myself with Lizzie so handsome, and fresh and trim. 
 I had always tried to keep myself neat and the 
 house tidy and comfortable, but I had got to be old- 
 fashioned and humdrum and what wonder ! What 
 with babies and ill-health, and housework, and sewing,
 
 Nurse Browris Story. 385 
 
 and slaving over hours to keep my sister from being 
 a drag upon my husband, it was strange I was alive 
 and in my senses. When this would come very close 
 to me I thought I should go wild, so I'd put it all be- 
 hind me as a temptation of the Evil One, and try 
 tc do the duty of the day. I brightened up my talk, 
 and smartened my dress, and humored my husband 
 in every way I could think of. I got Matilda to run 
 in of evenings to sit with Lizzie or take care of the 
 children, and I'd fix myself up in my best and walk 
 with Eben, and I'd put myself out to attend church 
 and lectures, and such like entertainments with him. 
 Mrs. Marley, it was like blowing on to cold ashes. 
 The livelier I got, the soberer he was. I'd never seen 
 him so down before ; and Lizzie, she wasn't much bet- 
 ter. It was up-hill work trying to make talk when we 
 three were together, and you may be sure, though I 
 did my best, it wasn't that I had much heart for the 
 business. Still I felt I was helping to keep Eben out 
 of temptation, and doing all I could to coax him back 
 into the right path. 
 
 " So the months slipped on one after another, and 
 another December had come. It was the first Satur- 
 day of the month when Eben showed me a letter from 
 a little town a hundred miles away, telling him of 
 some speculation in real estate, or something of that 
 sort, in which he said he was interested. 
 
 " ' I'll just slip up on the cars this evening, stay all 
 night, and spend the Sabbath with my friend,' says he 
 ' and be back by ten o'clock on Monday morning. It's 
 too good a chance to lose.' 
 
 " It was all settled in a hurry before I could get 
 17
 
 386 Nurse Browns Story. 
 
 my senses together. He took me and the children 
 over to mother's, and kissed us ' good-by ' in haste, for 
 fear he'd lose the train, he said. Lizzie was to follow 
 me when the store was shut for the night, and she had 
 a smart boy a sort of porter and errand boy Eben 
 employed in the busy season to help her. About 
 eight o'clock he brought me a note from Lizzie. She 
 wrote that Mary Bryson had been into the shop since 
 I left and begged her so hard to spend Sunday with 
 her, she couldn't refuse. 
 
 " ' I'm just as pleased as if she had come,' says 
 mother in her dry fashion. ' But it's odd, seeing she's 
 so fond of Mary, she doesn't copy her ways a little.' 
 
 " It stormed all day Sunday, and we kept in-doors. 
 Such a quiet season of rest and peace as that looks to 
 me now when I turn back to it ! Mother was kind- 
 ness itself, and so were the girls, and the children so 
 good and happy ! I hadn't been so free from care for 
 years. Monday morning was clear as a bell, and I 
 was astir betimes. I left the children asleep, and 
 under Matilda's care, and ran home to open the shop 
 and start the day right. I got me a mouthful of 
 breakfast, and was tidying up the shop, when in walked 
 two men, one of them with a paper in his hand. 
 
 "' Mrs. King?" says this one, civil enough. 
 
 "'Yes, sir,' I says, a-courtesying. 
 
 " ' I'm sorry to disturb you, madam,' he went on, 
 ' but we're in possession here. You may not know it, 
 but your husband has been borrowing a lot of money 
 lately, and has given a mortgage upon the stock and 
 fixtures here; all his furniture and personal property 
 generally, in fact ; and hearing that other parties had
 
 Nurse Brown s Story. 387 
 
 claims against him we thought it best to be forward 
 with ours.' 
 
 " ' My husband went to Denville in the six o'clock 
 train Saturday evening,' I said, all in aflutter; 'but 
 I'm expecting him home in an hour or so. There 
 must be some mistake about this.' 
 
 " ' 'Tisn't ourn, then,' says the other man, who looked 
 and spoke rough. ' Your husband absconded by the 
 ten o'clock through Western train on Saturday night, 
 and took your sister along for company.' 
 
 " If I'd been asked beforehand how I'd take such 
 news as this, I'd have said I should have dropped 
 dead, but I stood perfectly still, and says I : 
 
 " ' You're in possession here, you say?' 
 
 " ' We are,' says the first man. 
 
 " ' What can I take away with me ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' Your clothes and your children's,' said both to- 
 gether. ' Nothing else.' 
 
 " I put them up in a big bundle, and afterwards 
 borrowed a trunk from mother to keep them in. Eben 
 had turned everything else into money and taken it 
 with him. 
 
 " Well I won't weary you with going over what I 
 felt in the weary months that followed. It's one of 
 the things people leastways women can't talk 
 about. It was fortunate I had to do as well as suffer. 
 I lived with mother and took in fine sewing for seven 
 years. Just before she died my eyes gave out ' as 
 might have been expected,' said everybody, for I'd 
 never spared them. Five years longer I fought with 
 poverty, doing slop-work, house-cleaning, nursing 
 anything that I could lay hold of that would bring me
 
 388 Nurse Brown's Story. 
 
 in a few dollars. Then Andrew Brown, who had 
 courted me before Eben did, and been a firm friend 
 of the family all along, asked me to marry him. In 
 the twelve years Eben had been away I had heard 
 from him but once or of him rather, for he never 
 sent me a line. It was Lizzie who wrote to Mary 
 Bryson excusing what she had done, and throwing the 
 heft of the blame upon me. ' But for my jealous, 
 suspicious temper, and prying ways,' she said, 'we 
 three might have lived in peace and happiness all our 
 days. I had not cared to keep my husband's love 
 when I had it ; thought of nothing but work and 
 making money; and these sordid tastes disgusted him. 
 When I had lost his affection, instead of manoeuvring 
 to get it back, I had tried to hold him by the letter of 
 the law, played the spy and jailor to him and wearied 
 him out. I had never understood him in the begin- 
 ning. Our marriage had been a mistake from first to 
 last.' " 
 
 " Abominable ! " I ejaculated. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," said the nurse, in her quiet tone. 
 " But somehow it made me sorrier for her than if she 
 had been penitent, for I knew how much she would 
 have to suffer before she was brought back to the 
 right way she'd strayed off so far. My few friends 
 begged me hard to marry Andrew. My children were 
 fond of him, and I couldn't educate them and keep 
 them as I'd wish to out of my poor earnings. If I 
 was to die they'd be left destitute, and what with 
 thinking of these things, and not caring much what 
 happened to me now, and knowing how good and 
 steady and true Andrew was, I let him take out a
 
 Nurse Brown's Story. 389 
 
 regular divorce for me, and then we were married. 
 We got along nicely together. He often said how 
 happy I made him, and that was a great comfort, you 
 know. He did well by my children; never made any 
 difference between them and the little girl that was 
 born to us the second year after our marriage. 
 
 "She was near five years old when the strangest 
 thing happened to me that I've known in all my up- 
 and-down life. I was sitting at the parlor window with 
 my sewing one summer afternoon, when a man who 
 was passing along the sidewalk stopped and stared 
 hard at me, then came up the steps and rang the bell. 
 I went to the door. 
 
 " ' Can you tell me, madam,' says he, * if there's a 
 family by the name of Dawson lives in this neighbor- 
 hood?' 
 
 " ' Not that I know of,' I says. 
 
 " ' I have been misinformed then. I am a stranger 
 in the city and and have letters to them and I 
 was told was directed to this street.' 
 
 "He talked in a sort of hoarse, choked-up voice, 
 hemming and hawing, and was very pale, besides 
 being all of a tremble. I thought he was sick or in 
 great trouble, and says I : ' If you will sit down here 
 in the hall, I will look in the directory,' for Andrew 
 always had one, being a tax collector by trade. I ran 
 to the dining-room and searched through the D's. 
 There were Dawsons enough but not one in our 
 neighborhood, and" I took a glass of ice water to him 
 when I went back to tell him this. Just as he was 
 drinking v it my little Mamie came trotting into the 
 hall.
 
 390 Nurse Brown s Story. 
 
 " ' Mamma/ she called, ' hasn't papa come home 
 yet?' 
 
 " ' No, darling,' I says. 
 
 " * Mamma ! ' repeated the man, looking as if he'd 
 seen a ghost, and spilling the water as he tried to set 
 down the glass on the table. ' Is this your child?' 
 
 " ' It is,' said I, and I was so scared by his manner I 
 caught up the little thing. I really fancied he would 
 steal her or hurt her some way. 
 
 " He put his hand to his head and walked right out 
 of the door like one in a dream or crazy ; and as he 
 did it I saw a scar on his wrist I recognized in a 
 minute. I ran to the door and stared after him. His 
 face was all whiskers, and they with his hair were 
 gray 'as a badger; he was very thin and stooped a 
 little, but I knew him well enough. He met Jamie 
 and Ruthie face to face before he'd gone ten steps, 
 turned and looked wistfully enough after them, and 
 seeing them turn up my steps must have known 
 for certain who they were, but he kept on down the 
 street. I've never seen nor heard of him since nor of 
 her. I didn't let on to the children who it was, but I 
 told Andrew all about it, as was only right. 
 
 "I've been a widow eight years. Jamie and Ruthie 
 are settled in homes of their own, and would like to 
 have me with them, but there's Mamie. Her father 
 lost most of his property before he died through 
 another man's failure, but we manage to get along. 
 Work is better than ease for me." 
 
 She got up, pulled the Afghan about my shoulders, 
 and stirred the fire. 
 
 " It's time for your twilight nap now, dear. I'll go
 
 Nurse Brown s Story. 391 
 
 down and see about your supper. It's a homely and 
 a sorrowful story I've been telling, but it won't harm 
 you to know how much trouble you've escaped thus 
 far, and how mercifully the Lord sends strength with 
 the day of trial. It's a true tale, too, every word of 
 it."

 
 A NEW BOOK BY MAKION EAELAND. 
 
 Loiterings in Pleasant Palls. 
 
 One volume, 12mo, ----- $1.73 
 
 Books of travel have multiplied of late years almost in a direct ratio 
 to the increased facilities for journeying, and it may be said that the 
 quality has also proportionately improved. We have works profusely 
 adorned with superb illustrations, and others without pictorial embellish- 
 ments, relying for their attractiveness on the charm of a skilled pen and 
 the freshness of first impressions. Such a book is LOITERINGS IN 
 PLEASANT PATHS, by "Marion Harland," whose Common Sense 
 books have made her name a household word in every part of the land. 
 
 "These 'familiar talks from afar' are no fancy sketches, but actual 
 experiences and impressions of a shrewd observer, whose mind was enriched 
 and fully prepared to observe accurately and write intelligently and pro- 
 fitably. Marion Harland always writes books with a purpose, and the 
 present volume is no exception to her rule." Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 "The observations of so clever a woman, who carries her head with 
 her upon her travels and ventures to make use of all her faculties, are 
 worth writing about and reading about, and this particular traveller has 
 the good gift of so writing about them that the reading is a constant and 
 unfailing source of pleasure. " Evangelist. 
 
 "Those who are going abroad will find this volume a delightful com- 
 panion by the way ; while those who are compelled to stay at home will 
 find it the best possible substitute for the pleasure of foreign travel, as 
 proved by actual experience." N. Y. Evening Post. 
 
 *#* For sale by all booksellers, or sent post-paid upon receipt of 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
 
 'The very best, the most sensible, the most practical, the most honest 
 book on this matter of getting up good dinners, and living in a decent, 
 Christian way, that has yet found its way in our household." WATCHMAN 
 AND REFLECTOR. 
 
 COM MON SENSE 
 
 IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 A MANUAL OF PRACTICAL HOUSEWIFERY. 
 
 By MARION HARL.AND. 
 
 New Edition. One volume, 12mo, cloth, . . Price, 91.75 
 KITCHEN EDITION, IN OIL-CLOTH COVERS, AT SAME PRICE. 
 
 This edition is printed from new electrotype plates and bound in 
 a nem pattern cloth binding, and also in the favorite ' ' Kitchen 
 Edition' 1 ' 1 style. 
 
 The popularity of this book has increased steadily for the last ten years, 
 and the sale has reached the extraordinary number of 
 Over 100,000 Copies. 
 
 Many housekeepers will gladly welcome their old friend in a new dress, 
 and renew their copies worn by constant use ; or, as the author herself 
 expresses it, " L hope my fellow-workers will find their old kitchen com- 
 panion in fresh dress, yet more serviceable than before, and that their 
 daughters mrfy, at the close of a second decade, demand new stereotype 
 plates for still another and like this a progressive edition." 
 
 With the new edition of " Common Sense/' the Publishers will issue, 
 in uniform style : 
 
 THE DINNER YEAR BOOK. 
 
 One volume, tamo, 720 pp , cloth, or ' Kitchen Edition," without 
 colored plates $i-75- 
 
 BREAKFAST, LUNCHEON, AND TEA. 
 
 One volume, lamo. Cloth, or "Kitchen Edition," $1.75. 
 
 Naif. The Dinner Year Book, with sir colored plates, illustrating twenly- 
 rigftt subjects, handsomely bound in cloth, will be continued in print at the regular 
 price, $2.25. 
 
 *a* For sale by all booksellers, or sent, post-paid, upon receipt of 
 
 y CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YOKK.
 
 "Two as Interesting and valuable books of travel as have 
 been published in this country." NEW YORK EXPRESS. 
 
 DR. FIELD'S TRAVELS HOUND THE WORLD. 
 
 FROM THE LAKES OF* KILLARNEY TO THE 
 
 GOLDEN HORN. 
 
 FROM EGYPT TO JAPAN. 
 
 y HENRY M. FIELD, D.D., Editor of the N. Y. Evangelist, 
 Each 1 vol. 12mo, Cloth, gilt top, uniform In sty'e, $2. 
 
 CRITICAL NOTICES. 
 
 By George Ripley, LL.D., in the New York Tribune. 
 
 Few recent travellers combine so many qualities that are adapted to command the 
 Interest and sympathy of the public. While he indulges, to its fullest extent, the charac- 
 teristic American curiosity with regard to foreign lands, insisting on seeing every object 
 of interest with his owu eyes, shrinking from no peril or difficulty in pursuit of infor- 
 mation climbing mountains, descending mines, exploring pyramids, with no sense of 
 satiety or weariness, he has also made a faithful study of the highest authorities on 
 the different subjects of his narrative, thus giving solidity and depth to his descriptions, 
 without sacrificing their facility or grace. 
 
 From the New York Observer. 
 
 The present volume comprises by far the most novel, romantic, and interesting pan 
 f the Journey [Round the World], and the story of it is told and the scenes are painted 
 by the hand of a master of the pen. Dr. Field is a veteran traveller ; he knows well 
 what to see, and (which is still more important to the reader) he knows well what to 
 describe and how to do it. 
 
 By Chas. Dudley 'Warner, in the Hartford Courant. 
 
 It is thoroughly entertaining ; the reader's interest is never allowed to flag ; the 
 author carries us forward from land to land with uncommon vivacity, enlivens the way 
 with a good humor, a careful observation, and treats all peoples with a refreshing liberality. 
 
 From Rev. Dr. R. S. Storrs. 
 
 It is indeed a charming book full of fresh information, picturesque description, and 
 thoughtful studies of men, countries, and civilizations. 
 
 From Prof. Roswell D. Hitchcock, D.D. 
 
 In this second volume, Dr. Field, I think, has surpassed himself in the first, and 
 this is saying a good deaL In both volumes the editorial instinct and habit are conspic- 
 uous. Dr. Prime has said that an editor should have six senses, the sixth bring 
 * a sense of the interesting." Dr. Field has this to perfection. * * * 
 
 From the New York Herald. 
 
 It would be impossible by extracts to convey an adequate idea of the variety f 
 abundance, or picturesque freshness of these sketches of travel, without copying a great 
 part of the book. 
 
 Rev. Wm. M. Taylor, D.D., in the Christian at Work. 
 
 Dr. Field has an eye, if we may use a photographic illustration, with a great deal oi 
 collodion in it, so that he sees very clearly. He knows also how to describe just those 
 things in the different places visited by him which an intelligent man wants to know 
 
 The above books for sale by all booksellers, or ivill it tent, post or express 
 receipt of the price by the publishers. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YOBK.
 
 . The Oharm of theme nearly perfect itorUc !! In th*ll 
 iul.lt. Impllotty and mot tender humor." PHILADELPHIA Tun 
 
 RUDDER GRANGE. 
 
 By FRANK R. STOCKTON. 
 
 Volume, 16mo, Extra Cloth, 91.2S. Paper, 6O cents. 
 
 " Humor like this is perennial." Washington Post. 
 
 "Mr. Stockton has rare gifts for this style of writing, and hai 
 developed in these papers remarkable genius." Pittsburgh Gatette. 
 
 " A cei tain humorous seriousness over matters that are not scrioui 
 surrounds the story, even in its most indifferent parts, with an atmosphere, 
 an aroma of very quaint and delightful humor." N. Y. Evening Post. 
 
 " Mr. Stockton's vein of humor is a fresh and rich one, that afford* 
 pleasure to mature people as well as to youne ones. Thus far, ' Rudder 
 Grange ' is his best effort." Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 " Rudder Grange is an ideal book to take into the country foi 
 summer reading." Portland Press. 
 
 " Rudder Grange is really a very delightful piece of fooling, but, like 
 all fooling that is worth the while, it has point and purpose." Phil. 
 Telegraph. 
 
 "The odd conceit of making his young couple try their hands at 
 house-keeping first in an old canal boat, suggests many droll situations, 
 which the author improves with a frolicsome humor that is all his own," 
 Worcester Spy. 
 
 " There is in these chapters a rare and captivating drollery. . . . 
 We have had more pleasure in reading them over again than we had whe* 
 they first appeared in the magazine." Congregationalism 
 
 Tkt mtfvt fcwt fer ,.ilt by all i^AteOert, or *>M In tent, frtp+U, *. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, Nw YORK.
 
 NOW READY.-THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 THE SECOND SERIES. 
 
 SAXE HOLM'S STORIES. 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 The Four-Leaved Clover," " My Tourmaline," 
 
 'Farmer Bassett's Romance," "Joe Hales' Red Stockings,' 
 
 " Susan Lawton's Escape." 
 
 1 vol. 12tno, cloth, _ - - - $1.SO. 
 
 1TOTICES. 
 
 "The second series of 'Saxe Holm's Stories' well sustains the interest which lias 
 made the name of the author a subject of discussion with literary gossips, and won the 
 admiration of intelligent readers for such attractive specimens of pure and wholesome 
 fiction." New York Tribune. 
 
 "The second series is an elegant volume, and contains some of the best of the stories, 
 notably the exquisite, ' A Four- Leaved Clover,' which is sufficient of itself to make the 
 reputation of any story-writer. * * * The four other stories are all good, and all 
 marked by that peculiar realism and tenderness combined, which give these stories a 
 distinct place in American fiction." Hartford Courant. 
 
 "The simplicity which marks Saxe Holm's use of dialect is something which is difficult 
 to describe. It pleases us in the reading, but escapes our critical grasp like a sunbeam. 
 This is particularly observable in the first of these tales which comprise the second series 
 of her stories." New York Mail. 
 
 " Whoever is the author, she is certainly entitled to the high credit of writing storie* 
 which charm by their sweetness, impress by their power, and hold attention by their 
 originality." Albany Argus. 
 
 SAXE HOLM'S STORIES, 
 
 FIRST SERIES. 
 
 " Draxy Miller's Dowry," " The Elder's Wife," 
 
 Whose Wife Was She ? " " The One-Legged Dancers,* 
 
 'How One Woman Kept Her Husband," 
 
 " Esther Wynn's Love Letters." 
 
 . 12mo, cloth, .... $t.SO. 
 
 %* TTke above bo)k* for tale by all booksellers, er will be sent, fast or trfrttt 
 tk*rgei paid, upon, receipt of the price by the publisher*, 
 
 CH ARIES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 743 AND 745 BXOADWAY, NEW YORK
 
 THE COMPLETE POETICAL WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 DR. J. G. HOLLAND, 
 
 EDITOR OF SCRIBNER'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 
 
 With Illustrations by Reinhart, Gr is wold, and Mary 
 Hallo ck Foote, and Portrait by Wyatt Eaton. 
 
 TOTED FROM NEW STEREOTYPED FLUTES, PREPARED EXPRESSLY FOR THIS EDITION 
 One Volume, 8vo. Extra Cloth, - - $5.OO. 
 
 CRITICAL NOTICES. 
 
 " DR. HOLLAND will always find a congenial audience in the homes of culture and 
 refinement. He does not affect the play of the darker and fiercer passions, but delights in 
 the sweet images that cluster around the domestic hearth. He cherishes a strong fellow- 
 feeling with the pure and tranquil life in the modest social circles of the American people, 
 and has thus won his way to the companionship of many friendly hearts " JV. Y. Tribune. 
 
 " It is the rare truthfulness of his pictures of still life, the poetry with which he has the 
 art of investing homely things and every-day experiences, and the strong moral motive 
 with which his writings are charged which especially commend them to the great army o! 
 his readers." Springfield Daily Union. 
 
 " DR. HOLLAND'S pen moves so easily and gracefully that we do not always appre- 
 ciate fully the real poetic merit, the subtle meaning, the delicate imagery and all the 
 mingled truth and beauty that link in his smooth-flowing lines." ff. Y. Evangelist. 
 
 DR. HOLLAND'S WORKS. 
 
 fitter Sweet . a Poem, . . $1.50 
 Kathiina; a Poem, . . . 1,60 
 The Mistress of the Manse | a Poem, 1.50 
 111. Kd. 5.00 
 The Marble Prophecy and other 
 
 Poems, .... 1.50 
 
 Miss Gilbert's Career, . . . 2 00 
 
 Bay Path 2 00 
 
 Every Day Topics, 1.75 
 
 Nicholas Minturn. . . . $1.75 
 The Story of Sevenoaks- IH"s. 1.75 
 Arthur Bonnicastle. Illustrated. 1.75 
 Letters to Young People, . . 1.50 
 Gold Poll hammered from Popular 
 
 Proverbs 1.75 
 
 Lessons in Llf* - . 1-75 
 Plain Talks on Familiar Subjects, 1.75 
 Letters to the Joneses, 1.75 
 
 BRIGHTWOOD EDITION. 
 
 In six vols., i6mo, cabinet size, printed upon tinted wove paper, including: 
 
 Timothy Titcombs' Letters to Young 
 
 People $1-50 
 
 Plain Talks (Dr. Holland's Popular 
 
 Lectures) 1.75 
 
 The volumes of this edition may be purchased separately, or they will be furnished 
 in a handsome box for $9.00. 
 
 Bitter Sweet $1.50 
 
 Kathrina 1.50 
 
 Less ins in Life 1.75 
 
 Gold Foil .. 1.75 
 
 * # * For salt by all booksellers, or sent post-paid upon receipt of 
 jrice, ly 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 Nos. 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
 
 EDWARD EGGLESTON'S NEW STORY. 
 
 R O X Y. 
 
 One vol. I2m0, with 12 full-page illustrations. Price, fi.ja 
 
 " In ' Roxy Dr. Eggleston takes rank as an artist. Hia 
 work, without losing its former vividness and strength, has 
 gained a new dignity of style which immediately secures for it 
 a permanent place in our literature. 
 
 " The characters in Roxy ' are admirably conceived and 
 vigorously drawn, and no one who is familiar with Western 
 life will fail to recognize them. The whole story is pervaded 
 with a flavor of the soil which stamps it as a genuinely 
 American product." 
 
 .A. IsTEW EDITIOUST OIF 
 
 THE CIRCUIT RIDER. 
 
 By EDWABD EOKJLESTON, author of "Boxy." 
 One vol. izmo, illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 This story excited widespread interest when first published, 
 both as a powerful novel and genuine love-story, and as a 
 graphic picture of the West in the adventurous days of saddle- 
 bags and circuit-riding preachers. 
 
 " The breezy freshness of the Western prairie blended with the refine- 
 ments of literary culture." N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 " It is his best work ; a grand story ; a true picture of the past and of 
 itinerant life in the old times of simplicity and hardship." 
 
 A". Y. Methodist. 
 
 " The best American story, and the most thoroughly American one, 
 that has appeared for years." Phila. Evening Bulletin. 
 
 V* The. above books for sale by all booksellers, cr will be sent, fast or 
 target jatd ufrn receipt of the J> rice by the fetishers, 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YORK
 
 * HAWORTH'S * 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT, 
 
 Author of "THAT LASS O'LOWHIE'S." 
 
 One Vol. 12mo, Illustrated. Price, $1.50. 
 
 The publication of a new novel from Mrs. Burnett's pen has become an 
 event of more than ordinary moment, both to the critics and the public ; 
 and HAWORTH'S fulfills the best anticipations of both. It is in the 
 direct line of development of the author's strongest traits, and marks a 
 higher point than was reached even in the best passages of her first story. 
 
 CRITICAL NOTICES. 
 
 " ffaworlVs is a product of genius of a very high order a piece of 
 work which will hold a permanent place in literature ; one of those mas- 
 terly performances that rise wholly above the plane of light literature upon 
 which novels are generally placed." Evening Post. 
 
 11 It is but faint praise to speak of Hawortli's as merely a good novel. 
 It is one of the few great novels. . . . As a story, it is alive through- 
 out with a thrilling interest which does not flag from beginning to end, 
 and, besides the story, there is in it a wonderfully clever study of human 
 nature." Hartford Courant. 
 
 " Hawortffs will unquestionably be acknowledged one of the great 
 literary achievements of the day. The chief feature is its intense dramatic 
 power. It consists almost wholly of vividly-presented pictures, which so 
 impress themselves on the mind of the reader, that the effect is more that 
 of seeing the story acted than of reading it." Boston Post. 
 
 "Conversation and incident move naturally and with perfect freedom, 
 yet there is not a page which does not essentially aid in the development 
 of plot. . . . The handsome illustrations are in tone and keeping 
 with the spirit of the book." Buffalo Courier. 
 
 " The book is original, powerful, helpful, dramatic, vivid and great. 
 Every character is cut with the distinctness of a cameo, and every one is 
 unique. . . . The art of the volume is perfect. Every word is needed 
 to effect the result. The pictures fit into one another. The whole is a 
 faultless mosaic." Albany Argus. 
 
 ',* For tab by all booksellers, or will be sent, }rej>aid, upon receipt off rice, by 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 
 
 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 LO 
 
 OCUV88 
 
 ^001201986 
 
 '
 
 ..11 II I 111. 
 
 3 1158 01135 6119 
 
 A 000032783