;
 
 HOME LIFE
 
 MRS. MADfoJNE LESLIE'S 
 HOME LIFE SERIES 
 
 VOL. I. CORA AND THE DOCTOR. 
 " II. COURTESIES OF WEDDED LIFE. 
 "III. HOUSEHOLD ANGEL IN DISGUISE. 
 " IV. JULIETTE; OR, Now AND FOREVER.
 
 JULIETTE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 NOW AND FOREVER 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. MADELINE LESLIE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 JL.KK AND S H K P A R D, 
 
 149 WASHINGTON STEEKT. 
 
 1869.
 
 Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 
 
 A . R . BAKER, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 ROCKWELL & KOLLINS, PRINTERS AND STIREOTYPKUS, 
 122 Washington Street.
 
 THE MEMORY OP 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 Shis tfohune is jjnstribrb, 
 
 IJT GRATEFUL REMEMBKAKCE OF 
 
 THE VERY KIND ENCOURAGEMENT WHICH HE RENDERED 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
 IN THE EARLIER EFFORTS OF HER PEN. 
 
 1 670707
 
 JULIETTE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ' Of all the tyrants that the world affords, 
 Our own affections are the fiercest lords." 
 
 " The storm of grief bears hard upon his youth, 
 And bends him like a drooping flower to earth." 
 
 IN the beautiful town of H , overlooking Long 
 Island Sound, the traveller's attention is arrested 
 by two large country residences just perceptible 
 through occasional openings of the thick foliage, and 
 only separated from each other by a swiftly-running 
 streamlet. 
 
 One of these is an irregular stone edifice, with small 
 bastions at the corners, capped with turrets, some 
 what resembling the old castles of transatlantic coun 
 tries, with large Gothic windows, and steep slated 
 roof. It stands on a slight elevation, commanding an 
 extended view of the sound, alive with steamboats, 
 fishing-smacks, and whitened with the sails of a pros 
 perous commerce. 
 
 The other building is of more modern construction ; 
 being square, with a hip-roof, a long L extending 
 
 7
 
 8 JULIETTE. 
 
 back from the main house, the latter ornamented with 
 deep bay-windows, and a spacious portico over the 
 front entrance. 
 
 Both of these mansions are surrounded by rich 
 grassy glades, upon which the wide-branching oaks 
 and the stately elms throw their gnarled arms and 
 pendant boughs over the thick carpet of the most 
 delicious greensward. 
 
 The winding avenues by which the houses are ap 
 proached are lined with beeches, intermingled with 
 maples, horse-chestnut, mountain ash, and evergreens 
 of various descriptions, so closely as entirely to inter 
 cept the view from the street, except through the long 
 vistas, left open for -the purpose, in which the eye 
 delights to lose itself. 
 
 The old stone mansion, with its belongings, had 
 descended to Horace' Fearing, Esq., the present pro 
 prietor. The other house had been built by Dr. Mor 
 rison, upon the site of a more humble residence, 
 removed to the end of the lawn, and now occupied 
 as the farm-house. 
 
 These places being so closely connected, and the 
 families residing in them having for many years main 
 tained the most intimate friendship, it will not be 
 deemed strange that Edward, oldest son of the former 
 gentleman, being a sprightly, resolute youth of nine 
 teen, had cultivated the acquaintance of Juliette, only 
 daughter of the good doctor. 
 
 Indeed, to speak more accurately, neither the young 
 man, nor the maiden, who was a year or two his junior,
 
 JULIETTE. 9 
 
 could remember the commencement of their acquaint 
 ance, which dated from their cradles. If the state 
 ments of their nurses were to be credited, the first act 
 of Master Ned, on being introduced to his rosy (I can 
 scarcely say blushing companion), was to thrust his 
 fingers in her organs of vision ; that being delighted 
 with the effect produced, which was the wide opening 
 of the tiny mouth, from whence issued a scream of 
 pain, he repeated the operation again and again until 
 he was carried forcibly from the room. 
 
 Nor, according to the same testimony, did the little 
 miss fail to revenge herself, but waiting a few months, 
 until her plump hands had learned to obey her will, 
 she took the occasion when her young companion was 
 playing at her side to give a vigorous pull at his curls. 
 
 From the time when Juliette had attained her first 
 year and Eddie his third, the children were seldom 
 long separated. If the weather was unpleasant, and 
 mamma anxiously suggested that the young gentleman 
 remain in the nursery, there would issue from thence 
 a series of screams, and violent thumpings upon the 
 door; in fact, such an outrageous rumpus, as papa 
 termed it, that the meek lady was forced to submit to 
 the powers that be, while the young heir, who had a 
 will of his own, early learned by experience the truth 
 of the homely proverb, " where there's a will there's a 
 way." 
 
 When baby Juliette heard his merry voice in the 
 hall, or his feet climbing the staircase, she expressed 
 her welcome by shouts of delight j - and though he
 
 10 JULIETTE. 
 
 often claimed all her toys, and, as they grew older, in 
 sisted upon his right as a boy to build the block houses, 
 while she meekly contented herself with the privilege 
 accorded her of applauding his success, yet they 
 continued fast friends. 
 
 On Juliette's arriving at an age to attend school, it 
 was a matter of course that Ned should conduct her 
 there, or in cold weather draw her on his sled ; his 
 stronger will even then, as in younger years, controll 
 ing hers and forcing her to submit to his caprices. 
 
 Mr. Fearing, who was fond of the law, was anxious 
 that his sq.n should follow his example and choose 
 that as his profession. Edward was undecided, but 
 thought he should prefer a mercantile life. In the 
 mean time, however, he was rapidly fitting for college, 
 and, at the early age of sixteen, was entered at one of 
 the most popular schools of the day. 
 
 Juliette remained at home, pursuing her studies in 
 an academy in her native town, and acquiring those 
 accomplishments considered indispensable in a young 
 lady's education, under her mother's supervision. 
 
 For two years Edward remained contentedly in col 
 lege, distinguishing himself by his aptness in acquiring 
 knowledge, and his careless expenditure of his money. 
 In his junior year he imparted to Juliette his determi 
 nation to leave college, and go into business in connec 
 tion with some large house in New York. 
 
 Possibly this information, which the young girl 
 repeated to her mother, may have affected her future 
 course. Dr. and Mrs. Morrison, who had long thought
 
 JULIETTE. 11 
 
 Edward's influence over their daughter unfavorable 
 to a proper development of her decision of character, 
 rather hastily made arrangements for her to leave home, 
 and finish her education in a distant city. 
 
 The young collegian knew nothing of this change, 
 but having suddenly dissolved his relation to the insti 
 tution, without consulting his parents, unexpectedly 
 presented himself before them. 
 
 His father was exceedingly displeased, and vented 
 his anger in terms such as the son had never heard 
 from his lips ; while his mild and yielding mother 
 meekly expressed her sorrow by tearful silence. 
 
 "It is too late, sir," retorted Edward, haughtily, "for 
 me to return to college, even if I were willing to do 
 so, which I am not; and as you refuse me your coun 
 sel and aid in procuring a desirable situation, I shall 
 call upon my friend, Dr. Morrison, to assist me." 
 
 Mrs. Fearing turned her meek eyes to her son's face, 
 and thought, "his father ought to make allowance for 
 his waywardness, he is so very handsome." 
 
 Edward walked across the room with the air of a 
 martyr approaching the stake, and, flinging open the 
 door, said, gruffly, "I shall take tea with Juliette, and 
 not return till late." 
 
 "Juliette is away," cried Henry Fearing, a youth of 
 fourteen summers ; " haven't you heard about it ? She 
 has gone to T- to attend school." 
 
 Edward hurriedly re-entered the room, astonishment, 
 anger, and grief, by turns expressed on his countenance. 
 Advancing to the side of his mother, he asked, hoarse-
 
 12 JULIETTE. 
 
 ly, "Is this, can this be true, and I not even informed 
 of it?" 
 
 "Yes, my son," she responded, scarcely daring to 
 raise her eyes to his. "It was all very sudden ; and we 
 scarcely knew of it until certainly not in time to 
 write you." 
 
 Edward interrupted her with a groan. Growing very 
 pale, without another word he suddenly left the room, 
 rushed to his own chamber, where they heard him shut 
 the door with a crash, and fiercely turn the key. 
 
 Mr. Fearing glanced at his wife, who was weeping 
 silently. " I had no idea of this," he exclaimed. " How 
 long has he loved Juliette ? Is there any engagement 
 between them?" 
 
 " He has loved her longer than he can remember," 
 faltered the mother, meekly. "I am afraid there is 
 trouble before him. I mean, that they will not con 
 sent." 
 
 "Speak plainly for once, do, Amelia," said her hus 
 band, in a bitter tone. "Do you mean to say that Dr. 
 and Mrs. Morrison would not consent that Juliette 
 should marry our son ? " 
 
 The lawyer drew up his figure to its full height. To 
 one who gazed at him, it would cease to.be a wonder 
 how Edward came by his pride and inflexible will. 
 
 Mrs. Fearing wiped her eyes, though her form 
 shrank from her husband. " Of course I know nothing 
 about it. How can I? I only," she hesitated and 
 began to weep again.
 
 JULIETTE. 13 
 
 "Amelia," the tone was stern, "will you do 
 me the favor to finish your sentence ? " 
 
 She raised her eyes imploringly. "Sally, Mrs. 
 Morrison's chamber-girl, overheard her mistress talking 
 with the doctor concerning Edward. They thought 
 he was about to return home. I think she said he told 
 Juliette of his intention ; and they resolved to remove 
 her from him." 
 
 "Did you ascertain the reason, madam, of this ma- 
 nosuvre ? " inquired Mr. Fearing, contemptuously. 
 
 " No, I asked no questions ; but Sally heard her 
 mistress say that Edward was so passionate I don't 
 think they understand him at all and Juliette so ami 
 able that he ruled her completely ; that he always had 
 made her yield to his whims ever since they were 
 babies together. She didn't think Juliette would ever 
 be happy if they were connected." Mrs. Fearing 
 sighed heavily as she ceased, and applied her Jiand- 
 kerchief again. 
 
 The lawyer took a few vigorous turns across the 
 room. His thoughts were evidently not the most 
 pleasant. At length he stood opposite his wife, and 
 gazed at her. "Amelia," he began, in a softened tone, 
 " though I despise the manner in which your informa 
 tion was gained, I am glad we have it. Dr. Morrison 
 may be wise. Certainly if he had been present this 
 morning, he would scarcely have chosen Edward as a 
 husband for his only daughter." 
 
 " O Mr. Fearing I " she began, in a tone of 
 meek reproach; "don't you turn against him. I 
 2
 
 14 JULIETTE. 
 
 thought I hoped so much from your your inter 
 vention." 
 
 "I love Juliette," rejoined the gentleman, thought 
 fully, without noticing her remark. " I know no one 
 I should so gladly take to my heart as a daughter ; but 
 I fear yes, she is so lovely in temper, so amiable, 
 so yielding I fear his overbearing, haughty arro 
 gance would kill her. Think how her parents, think 
 how we should feel to see her drooping day by day. 
 Oh, they are wise ! they are wise ! " 
 
 The poor mother wept and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 "It will be a terrible blow to Edward," added Mr. 
 Fearing. " I had no idea of the nature and strength 
 of his attachment. He will fume and fret like a caged 
 lion that his will has been opposed ; but he must yield. 
 I will have no compulsion. Even if Juliette consents, 
 " there must be no marriage without the full approba 
 tion of our friends." 
 
 "But she loves him," urged the anxious mother, 
 " I am sure she does. Only the day she went, she ran 
 in to ask for his last letter ; and she looked very sad 
 as she said, 'Edward will be sorry I am gone. I wish 
 I could have stayed till he came ; but I'll write my good- 
 by.' Then she threw her arms around my neck, and 
 said, 'I love you dearly, dearly, almost as much as my 
 own mother ! ' ' 
 
 " When Dr. Morrison returns, I shall talk with him," 
 said the lawyer, firmly. "In the mean time, they are 
 both young, and, with such a motive before him, Ed-
 
 JULIETTE. 15 
 
 ward can learn to govern his passions. Well, we shall 
 see ! we shall see ! " 
 
 "And if Juliette really loves Edward, it will be a 
 pleasure for her to give up to him," said the little lady, 
 gazing affectionately in her husband's face. 
 
 Mr. Fearing's countenance grew tender. He stooped 
 and kissed her cheek. "Few ladies, dear Amelia, 
 make it the business of their lives to study their hus 
 band's pleasure as you have done. God forgive me if 
 I have ever abused the trust I " He lightly touched 
 her brow, and went hastily from the room.
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 " Heaven oft in mercy smites, e'en when the blow 
 Severest is." 
 
 IT is not my purpose to detain the reader to describe 
 minutely the incidents which followed ; but, in 
 order to delineate the early character of Edward Fear 
 ing, self-willed and passionate as he was, I shall glance 
 at events occupying more than a dozen years, before 
 we pass on to other characters more immediately the 
 subject of our story. 
 
 Dr. Morrison and his wife did disapprove of Edward 
 as a suitor for their daughter, and kept her away at 
 school for two years. When she returned, it was as 
 the affianced wife of Mr. Everett, a prosperous mer 
 chant residing in T . 
 
 The evening before her marriage, Edward, who had 
 remained in blissful ignorance of all this, rushed home 
 as soon as he received his cards of invitation, called at 
 Dr. Morrison's, and having, by a great effort, forced 
 himself to be calm, requested Juliette to visit with him 
 one of their favorite haunts. 
 
 The sun was just setting, and its red rays illuminated 
 the turret windows like sheets of burnished gold, and 
 
 16
 
 JULIETTE. 17 
 
 lighted in brilliant patches such portions of the velvet 
 turf as were not shaded by the gigantic trees. 
 
 Juliette, without hesitation, complied, though won 
 dering at his ill-concealed emotion. 
 
 They wandered on by the bank of the small stream, 
 until they were out of sight of the house, when he 
 turned upon her with fierce reproaches for having em 
 bittered his whole life. 
 
 Trembling at his wild, haggard looks, the poor girl 
 yet found strength to ask, "What can you mean, dear 
 Edward? "What have I done, that you should speak 
 so cruelly ? " 
 
 He pointed to a rustic seat, and then poured out the 
 story of his love. Throwing himself upon the ground 
 before her, he wept ; he implored her, by all that was 
 sacred, to break her engagement with Mr. Everett, 
 and be his wife. 
 
 "He is a stranger, and you cannot love him, Juli 
 ette," he urged. "Certainly, not as you love me. 
 Oh, speak, dear one, and say you do not ! Say you 
 will be mine, and I will brave the world for your dear 
 sake. Think how we have played together, how I 
 have held you sleeping in my arms, when we sat side 
 by side at school, how you always ran to meet me, 
 and called me your dearest Ned. Oh, you have loved 
 me, Juliette ! You do love me, and you will send 
 away this stranger, who, compared with the all-absorb 
 ing passion in my breast, knows nothing about love." 
 
 Juliette rose, and would have hastened away ; but 
 he held her almost rudely. 
 2*
 
 18 JULIETTE. 
 
 "It is too late," she said, with a quivering lip. 
 "You ought to have told me all this before. I have 
 loved you as a dear brother, Edward, and perhaps, 
 had I known that you that you wished it, I might 
 have been your wife. But Mr. Everett is a noble man. 
 He has sought me openly and honorably, and I will 
 not break my word." 
 
 Edward started from the ground and stood erect 
 before her. She laid her hand on his arm, but he 
 threw it off as if it stung him. 
 
 "Juliette," said he, and his voice was thick and 
 hoarse, "I have always supposed you would be mine, 
 and only waited your return from school to demand 
 you of your father ; but forget the events of the past 
 hour, and may God forgive us both." He turned 
 hastily, and his form was soon lost in the fast coming 
 twilight. 
 
 A midnight train to the city landed him in New 
 York, and three months later he wrote to his parents 
 to announce his marriage with a young lady in high 
 life. 
 
 His active business habits and his unconquerable 
 energy rendered him so important to the firm with 
 which he was connected, that, on his attaining his ma 
 jority, he was taken in as partner ; and from this time 
 wealth flowed in upon him in one continuous stream. 
 
 From the hour of Juliette's marriage, he was never 
 heard to mention her name. When his mother an 
 nounced to him the birth of her little son, whom, in 
 memory of their old friendship, she had named Horace
 
 JULIETTE. 19 
 
 Morrison, he exhibited so much emotion, that it was 
 with a beating heart and unsteady voice three years 
 later she bore to him the mournful intelligence of the 
 decease of Mr. -Everett. 
 
 This sad event occurred within a few weeks of the 
 death of his only child ; and while his heart was soft 
 ened by this affliction, he wrote Juliette a kind letter, 
 such as a dear brother would write, and which proved 
 balm to her wounded heart. 
 
 Mrs. Everett, with her little Horace, returned at 
 once to her father's ; Dr. Morrison having complied 
 with the dying husband's wish, and consented to take 
 the care of Juliette's property, and to be a guardian to 
 their child. 
 
 Seven years later, Mrs. Edward Fearing died, after a 
 lingering sickness, leaving two children ; a son, Henry, 
 in his seventh year, named for Mr. Fearing's brother, 
 recently deceased, and a daughter, Juliette Edwards, 
 two years younger. 
 
 It is but justice to Mr. Fearing to say that he missed 
 the tender affection of the deceased, toward whom he 
 had ever evinced the kind consideration of a loving 
 husband. Nor, though his thoughts often turned to 
 Juliette, and his heart beat wildly at the possibility 
 that she might now be his, did he visit her until his 
 wife had been dead a year. 
 
 During this long period Mrs. Everett, whose per 
 sonal charms had never been greater, and who was 
 possessed of a handsome fortune, had received many 
 eligible offers of marriage. Some of these her par-
 
 20 JULIETTE. 
 
 ents had urged her to accept ; but the young widow 
 replied, "In your society, and in the care of my son, 
 I am happy. Why, then, should I change my condi 
 tion?" 
 
 But when Edward presented himself before her, 
 that beloved friend of her childhood, whom for eleven 
 years she had not once seen, when he plead with her 
 to be a mother to his motherless ones, when he brought 
 his little Juliette to add her entreaties to his, her heart 
 responded to his wish. 
 
 The bridal was a gay one, for Mr. Fearing stood 
 high in the world's esteem ; and he wished all his 
 friends to share in his joy. 
 
 This consummation of his dearest hopes seemed to 
 cause a favorable change in his character. He had 
 been subject to fits of depression, moodiness as his 
 friends termed it, now he exhibited a lightness of 
 heart and a buoyancy of spirits delightful to all con 
 nected with him. 
 
 Toward Juliette's son he ever acted as a tender 
 father, and soon won for himself the hearty affection 
 of the amiable child. To Henry and his little Juli 
 ette, he was excessively indulgent, though he obliged 
 them to yield strict obedience to his will. As they 
 both appeared to partake far more of their mother's 
 disposition than of his, this was no difficult task. 
 
 After Horace became an inmate of the family, the 
 most lively affection grew up between him and his 
 young playmates. Being three years older than Henry,
 
 JULIETTE. 21 
 
 Horace was able to assist him in his studies, besides 
 being ever ready for a vigorous game. 
 
 The years since her first marriage had not passed 
 without a change also in the character of Juliette. 
 Mr. Everett was not only an upright, honorable man 
 in the eyes of the world, but he earnestly strove to 
 guide his thoughts by the law of God. During the 
 four years he lived with his wife he urged upon her 
 the claims of religion, and on his death-bed besought 
 her to bring up their son in the nurture and admoni 
 tion of the Lord. 
 
 Thus early bereft of her loved companion, Juliette de 
 termined to follow exactly his expressed wishes, not only 
 for her boy, but in regard to the duties of her own 
 heart. She endeavored to cultivate firmness and self- 
 reliance, that she might be better fitted for the right 
 training of her child. Choosing as she did the quiet 
 home of her youth in preference to the gayety of a city 
 life, she had passed many hours every day in reading, 
 and in thoughtful meditation upon what she read. 
 
 After her marriage with Mr. Fearing, she found to 
 her sorrow that (as the result of his early training) he 
 looked upon religion as calculated to make one gloomy 
 and morose, that he considered it time enough to 
 prepare for death when certain that the hour for de 
 parture was at hand, that if a person lived an hon 
 est, upright life, God was a merciful being, and all 
 would be well at last. 
 
 Discussion upon this subject she found was worse 
 than useless.
 
 22 JULIETTE. 
 
 "It is of no avail, love," he would say, tapping her 
 cheek playfully. "You never can make me believe 
 that if you were to be taken from me, you would not 
 go straight to heaven ; and you are not, and I trust 
 never will be, a gloomy, long-faced fanatic." 
 
 Juliette therefore prayed and sighed in secret, 
 though she did not falter in the work of imparting 
 religious instruction. to the dear children, nor of en 
 deavoring earnestly to instil into their minds correct 
 motives and principles by which they were to regulate 
 their actions. 
 
 Horace and the little Etta were particularly suscep 
 tible to serious impressions ; but Henry was of so 
 volatile a nature that it seemed impossible to touch 
 his heart. In fact, he feared the displeasure of his 
 brother far more than any mere punishment ; and such 
 an influence did Horace, by his childish, but daring 
 defence of the right, obtain over the boy, that his new 
 mother hoped to obtain that power over him through 
 her son which she could not bring to bear directly 
 upon himself. 
 
 At a later period she mourned over that feebleness 
 and timidity which had led her to yield what she knew 
 to be right, with the hope of gradually winning her 
 husband. Three years after her marriage to Mr. Fear 
 ing, she gave birth to a daughter, who only survived a 
 few hours. A long and dangerous illness followed, 
 from which she never wholly recovered. For several 
 months she was confined to her chamber, and here her 
 religious impressions were deepened and confirmed.
 
 JULIETTE. 23 
 
 She longed for Christian companionship, for some one 
 to whom she could unbosom all her trembling hopes, 
 and who would strengthen and encourage her in the 
 path of duty. 
 
 At length so earnest did these desires become, that 
 she one day ventured to ask her husband to request 
 their minister to call upon her; but his bitter dis 
 pleasure prevented her from ever repeating the desire. 
 Never had she seen him so angry. Could she have 
 imagined the fierce agony he often endured at the 
 thought of the possible result of this sickness, and his 
 determination to drive from her mind all thought of 
 death, which he considered a certain means of hasten 
 ing that terrible event, she might not have been so 
 shocked. As it was, he left her in displeasure, to 
 weep hours over what she thought his want of feel 
 ing. 
 
 Since she had resided in New York she had often 
 met a lady whose name was Osborn, the widow of a 
 naval officer. Hearing of her long-continued sickness, 
 Mrs. Osborn, who lived with a relative in the same 
 street, ventured one day to call. Mrs. Fearing soon 
 found the lady was a Christian. Their hearts warmed 
 toward each other ; and this was the beginning of a 
 friendship which grew closer and warmer until they 
 were separated by death. 
 
 The effect of this intercourse upon the sick lady was 
 most happy. Her husband was rejoiced at the change, 
 and most cordially invited Mrs. Osboru to pass as much 
 time with his wife as her engagements would allow.
 
 24 JULIETTE. 
 
 He little realized that it was the very religious sym 
 pathy which he had forbidden her, which worked such 
 a result. Mrs. Fearing had with many tears informed 
 her friend of her husband's bitter prejudices ; and now 
 she too dearly prized her Christian conversation to 
 hazard its loss by imparting to him the fact that relig 
 ion was the tie which bound them together. 
 
 Late in the autumn it became evident to all her 
 friends that if her life was to be prolonged she must, 
 be taken to a warmer climate. As soon as this was 
 hinted to him, Mr. Fearing, with his usual energy, 
 lost not a moment in carrying the plan into execution. 
 If he had been sure he should have lost all of which he 
 was possessed, he would not have hesitated a moment. 
 With him it was life or death ; for he would not allow 
 to himself that he could survive her loss. Leaving 
 their children in the care of Mrs. Morrison, they em 
 barked for St. Augustine, in Florida, a place highly 
 recommended to them for invalids. 
 
 It was a dreadful struggle to Mrs. Fearing to be 
 separated from her children. She realized that it 
 might be forever. She endeavored to impress anew 
 upon their tender minds the lessons she had taught 
 them, and comforted their hearts by the assurance that 
 though they were separated, God was near each of 
 them, and would listen to their prayers for one 
 another. 
 
 It was a sad trial, too, to leave her chosen friend, 
 Mrs. Osborn ; and once she hinted to her husband that 
 in case she were worse, it might be necessary for her
 
 JULIETTE. 25 
 
 to have a female friend as a companion. But in his 
 struggle to resist the convictions fast forcing them 
 selves upon him, Mr. Fearing would not allow the 
 necessity ; and so they parted. 
 
 I need not detain the reader upon the months which 
 followed. Late in the succeeding spring, Mr. Fearkig 
 landed in New York, by the steamer, having brought 
 home his wife to die. 
 
 Yes, she yearned to see her children and parents 
 once more, to be carried to her old home, where 
 she could gaze upon the green lawns, the broad-headed 
 oaks, the gurgling brook, 'and the glorious setting 
 sun, before her soul took its final flight from earth. 
 She mentioned the name of Mrs. Osborn, and her hus 
 band immediately sent for the lady, who had gone to 
 live in the country, to come and pass at her side the 
 hours which remained to her dying friend. Hearing 
 that she had undertaken the care of a school as a 
 means of support, he nobly assured her that whatever 
 loss she might sustain by compliance with his request 
 should be amply repaid. 
 
 For a few weeks the change of air revived the inva 
 lid, and her husband began eagerly to talk of her re 
 covery. Indeed, nothing displeased him more than to 
 have any one doubt that she was really convalescent. 
 
 But the fiat had gone forth, and she, about whom 
 were clustered so many hopes, she, who was more 
 than all the world to her husband, and to her parents 
 and children, must lie down and die. None were 
 allowed to witness the fierce conflict in Mr. Feariug's
 
 26 JULIETTE. 
 
 breast when he was made to realize that the hour had 
 really come for him to part with her. With a wild, 
 protruded eye, and a pale, haggard countenance, he 
 rushed from the room, and shut himself up, until 
 called by an attendant to take his last farewell. 
 
 She was almost speechless ; but her eye brightened 
 as he approached, and, feebly placing her hand in his, 
 she murmured, "Dear Edward, I am going to 
 my Saviour. My soul is full of peace. I 
 shall want to meet you there." She raised 
 her eyes, as she uttered the last word, and they re 
 mained fixed. A glorious vision seemed to pass 
 before her. She clasped her hands, while a heavenly 
 smile played around her mouth. One slight shudder, 
 and she was at home in the bosom of her Saviour. 
 
 " ' Calmer and calmer still,' the lady cried, 
 To the friend who stood at her death-bed side, 
 And asked of her how her spirit bore 
 The thought of its flight to the viewless shore ; 
 ' Calmer and calmer still ; for much doth grow 
 Plain to my soul, and clear, which was not so. 
 I once saw frowns upon death's pale brow, 
 . But it is calmer and calmer now.'"
 
 CHAPTER IH. 
 
 " She's gone I forever gone 1 The king of terrors 
 Lays his rude hands upon her lovely limbs, 
 And blasts her beauty with his icy breath." 
 
 WEEK after week crept wearily by, and still the 
 bereaved husband could not tear himself from 
 the spot where he had laid his Juliette. It was a 
 shady knoll in a retired part of his father's estate, sur 
 rounded by sycamore and cedar trees. Here hour 
 after hour he lingered, ever thinking of the past happy 
 days, and brooding gloomily over the thought that she 
 whom he so worshipped had left him forever. 
 
 Oh ! could he have raised his tearless eyes to the 
 blest regions above, and viewed her rapt spirit before 
 the throne of the Eternal ; could he have see'n her 
 spotless robes, her crown of glory, her golden harp ; 
 could he have heard her voice joining in the song 
 of ceaseless adoration to the Lamb who was slain for 
 her sins ; could he by faith have taken hold of the 
 promise, "no chastening seemeth for the present joy 
 ous, but grievous, nevertheless afterward it yieldeth 
 the peaceable 1 fruits of righteousness to them that are 
 exercised thereby," he might have bowed humbly 
 
 27
 
 28 JULIETTE. 
 
 to his heavenly Father's will, and been saved long 
 years of the keenest anguish and self-reproach. 
 
 His" father and Dr. Morrison both urged him to re 
 turn to his business, and endeavor to find, in the daily 
 cares of life, a relief from the despondency which 
 seemed gathering like a thick veil about him. They 
 brought his children to his arms, and bade them talk 
 of their lamented mother, that his bitter sorrow might 
 find vent in tears. Alas ! it was all in vain ; the lan 
 guage of his heart was ever, 
 
 " No future hour can rend my heart like this, 
 Save that which breaks it." 
 
 He actually loathed the idea of meeting friends, who 
 might venture to speak of the loss he had sustained. 
 What could they know or how could they estimate 
 what she was to him. The world contained but one 
 Juliette. With his children, too, he was extremely 
 fitful. If he saw them weeping and disconsolate, he 
 would strain them to his breast, and mourn with them ; 
 but if with the buoyancy of childhood they forgot for 
 a brief moment their sorrow, and indulged in mirth, 
 he turned upon them with bitter reproaches, or shrank 
 from their presence. 
 
 His friends felt that something must be done to 
 rouse him. 
 
 One morning Horace, who was now in his fifteenth 
 year, approached him with a satchel of books. "Fa 
 ther," he began, "I shall lose my place in all my
 
 JULIETTE. 29 
 
 classes ; for I have gone on alone as far as I can. 
 Grandfather thinks I had better go home and resume 
 my studies." 
 
 Mr. Fearing caught the boy's hand. "My dear 
 Horace," he exclaimed, "I fear my grief has made me 
 selfish. Yes, you shall go. We will all go. The 
 effort must be made. We will go to-day." 
 
 Anticipating this sudden move, the grandparents 
 had arranged everything to forward it ; and in less 
 than four hours after the first suggestion the whole 
 party, with the exception of the little Juliette, were 
 on their way to New York. Mrs. Morrison, in ac 
 cordance with the wishes of her dying daughter, pro 
 ceeded, the next day, to place the young girl in the 
 care of Mrs. Osborn, for her education. 
 
 Arriving in the city, Mr. Fearing at once plunged 
 into business, and here sought forgetfulness of the 
 past. He plainly told his friends that he wished no 
 reference made to his affliction. He laughed and 
 made merry over his wine, and closed his heart firmly 
 against any merciful visitation of the Spirit. But his 
 midnight hours were terrible. Conscience, that mys 
 terious monitor within his breast, would not be si 
 lenced. Even in his uneasy, unrefreshing slumbers, 
 he heard the soft, clear voice of his loved Juliette at 
 prayer, and for him, heard it as distinctly as he 
 ever had heard it during the last years of her life. 
 Bathed in moisture, he would fling himself from the 
 couch, and stride back and forth through his chamber. 
 But he could not shake off the terrible vision. Juli- 
 3*
 
 30 JULIETTE. 
 
 ette, pale and gasping for breath, was ever before 
 him, but with an angelic smile lisping the words, "I 
 am going to my Saviour. I shall want to meet 
 you there." 
 
 " Though thy slumber may be deep, 
 Yet thy spirit shall not sleep. 
 There are shades which will not vanish ; 
 There are thoughts thou canst not banish." 
 
 Resorting, at length, to a powerful opiate, he some 
 times succeeded in banishing these unwelcome visit 
 ors, while during the day he rushed madly into the 
 whirl of speculations. Strange to say, these were 
 always successful, and as years rolled on he came to 
 be regarded as one of the shrewdest operators, one 
 of the most successful financiers in the commercial 
 world. In the mean time, the gracious Spirit, having 
 knocked long and loud at the door of his heart, took 
 his departure. Was it forever? 
 
 At the age of sixteen, Horace entered college, where, 
 by his diligence and enthusiasm in study, he soon took 
 a high rank. Henry remained at school in the city, 
 where, after his brother left, he became more than 
 ever indolent and averse to application. He was a 
 youth rather loved for his careless generosity than re 
 spected for his manly independence. He was one of 
 those unfortunate beings who can never say "no" 
 firmly and decisively, and therefore was often led 
 astray, and made the tool of his far more wicked 
 associates.
 
 JULIETTE. 31 
 
 Henry wisely avoided any collision with his father, 
 knowing that the latter had a stern, unconquerable 
 will ; and as they seldom met except at the sumptuous 
 meals, attended by many servants, it was easy for the 
 young man to do with himself, at other times, pretty 
 much as he chose. 
 
 Mr. Fearing, a gay man in a gay city, knew noth 
 ing of all this. Seeing that his "sou was fashionably 
 dressed, that he was gentlemanly in appearance, and 
 respectful in deference to his own wishes, he thought 
 that while he supplied his heir with a most liberal 
 allowance, he discharged his whole duty toward him. 
 
 Mr. Fearing was now in the prime of life. Tall, 
 erect, and of slight figure, his raven locks, flashing 
 black eyes, and well-cut lips distinguished him in any 
 company. 
 
 Henry, though often called a handsome youth, did 
 not at all resemble his father. He had the mild blue 
 eyes and the light auburn hair peculiar to his mother's 
 family. 
 
 But where, all these years, is our little Juliette, the 
 heroine of our story ? 
 
 In the quiet village of D , more than fifty miles 
 
 from the city, Mrs. Osborn had established her family 
 school. Ten young girls constituted her number; and 
 so far she had been eminently successful in her teach 
 ing. Knowing something of her character, it will be 
 easy to judge that, while securing to the young misses 
 under her care all the accomplishments which would 
 fit them to be ornaments of society, she did not iieg-
 
 32 JULIETTE. 
 
 lect their highest good. She endeavored, while train 
 ing their bodies into natural, healthy, and therefore 
 graceful attitudes, to train their hearts to the love of 
 the virtuous, the true, and the noble ; while she cul 
 tivated their intellect, to cultivate, also, their affec 
 tions. While she endeavored to Wni in them habits 
 of patient, thorough investigation, she nurtured their 
 moral sentiments according to the standard of revealed 
 truth. 
 
 Juliette, who was greatly endeared to her teacher, 
 in consequence of the long friendship with her mother, 
 strongly resembled Mrs. Fearing both in disposition 
 and character. Like her, she was loving and generous 
 in the bestowment of her affections, and like her, also, 
 she was extremely timid and self-distrustful. 
 
 Once every year her father visited her, and took her 
 to his paternal home, where, in alternate visits to her 
 grandparents (the parents of her own mother having 
 long been deceased) , she passed the summer vacation. 
 
 With her father she was always shy and reserved, 
 the gloomy abstraction of his manner, after the decease 
 of his wife, having fastened itself upon her memory, 
 to the forgetfulness of the years of fondness preceding 
 it. She did her best to be free with him, and talk in 
 the unrestrained manner she did with Mrs. Osborn; 
 but she was always painfully conscious of not appear 
 ing at ease in his presence, and of a sense of relief 
 when he was away. 
 
 Though under the fostering care of her teacher, her 
 health was much firmer than in her earlier years, yet
 
 JULIETTE. 33 
 
 she was extremely delicate in appearance. Her com 
 plexion was pale, unless excited, and then the elo 
 quent blood rushed into her cheeks, painting them the 
 color of the richest rose. Her eyes and lashes were 
 black ; but there was a languid softness in them, re 
 sembling the fawn. When she was merry they lit up 
 and beamed ; but they never flashed as her father's 
 did. Her figure, though small, was perfect in its 
 symmetry, and her motions were grace itself. 
 
 Horace, who was a member of Yale College, was 
 but a short distance, by the cars, from Mrs. Osborn's 
 residence, and often passed a Sabbath in the village. 
 He loved his sister, and found new beauties in her 
 character in every succeeding visit. Then, she had 
 uncommon powers of voice in singing, and accompa 
 nied herself with so much taste and feeling upon the 
 piano that he sometimes invited his classmates to Mrs. 
 Osboru's to hear her. 
 
 During the four years of his college course, Juliette 
 learned to regard her brother as a kind of mentor. 
 She kept up a close correspondence with him, relating, 
 with girlish frankness, all the events of her school life, 
 which particularly interested her, confessed freely her 
 errors, and begged him to help her correct them. 
 
 One thing, and almost the only one, which annoyed 
 him, was the hesitancy with which she expressed her 
 own thoughts upon any subject. It was always, " Mrs, 
 Osboru thinks so, or the girls say this or that;" but 
 she was seldom willing to give her own independent 
 opinion.
 
 34 JULIETTE. 
 
 "Juliette," Horace said one day, "you must make 
 up your mind upon a subject, and then be firm in ad 
 hering to your views. I do not like to have you pin 
 your faith upon that of others. You have an undoubted 
 right to maintain your own ground. Be more coura 
 geous and daring, my dear sister. You will not always 
 be allowed to remain under the guiding care of Mrs. 
 Osborn. When you are older you will often be obliged 
 to act for yourself, and you must learn decision while 
 you are young." 
 
 "But when I leave school," she sweetly replied, "I 
 shall be with you, Horace ; and you have promised 
 always to tell me when I am wrong." 
 
 What could he. do but lovingly tap her cheek, and 
 press the hand so trustingly placed in his ? 
 
 Of Henry, Juliette knew but little. As she had 
 never visited New York since her mother's death, she 
 had only seen him in a flying call at their grandfather's, 
 during her summer vacation.' Pie was extremely fond 
 of city life ; called the country a dreadful bore ; pitied 
 his sister for being condemned to it ; longed for her to 
 be through her education, that he might have her to 
 make more gay his city home. 
 
 Mr. Fearing had often been urged to marry again, 
 and one lady after another had had her charms of per 
 son or purse pressed upon his notice ; but never for a 
 moment did he consider the possibility of giving Juli 
 ette a successor in his affections. 
 
 In society, he was polished ; so that he was much 
 sought after by the fair. He was gay and gallant ; but
 
 JULIETTE. 35 
 
 there was something in his manner which forbade the 
 thought of love. 
 
 In truth, he often asked himself why he went into 
 company at all. Certainly it was only because his po 
 sition in life demanded it ; not because he enjoyed its 
 gayeties. He began now to be impatient for his daugh 
 ter to return from school, and take her place at the head 
 of his household. He longed for some new attraction 
 to his home, and doubted not her presence would prove 
 the charm. Horace was nearly through the study of 
 law, and was, in a few months, to take his departure 
 for Europe, for a year's travel, before he entered upon 
 the practice of his profession. Henry was nominally 
 engaged as clerk in a large warehouse, but really seek 
 ing his own pleasure in every form of dissipation. 
 
 Mr. Fearing wrote to Mrs. Osborn that he should 
 
 soon be in D , to remove his daughter from her 
 
 care. She plead for another year ; but having made 
 up his mind, there was no retraction; and the good 
 lady had nothing to do but to prepare her dear pupil to 
 change her quiet home for the fashion and gayety of 
 city life.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " The first sure symptom of a mind in health 
 Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home." 
 
 PUNCTUAL to his appointment, Mr. Fearing pre 
 sented himself at Mrs. Osborn's door, to receive 
 his Juliette from her hands. 
 
 The young girl for though in her seventeenth year, 
 she looked very young came forward, at the sound 
 of his voice, and, with a trembling lip, bade him wel 
 come. 
 
 "Hasten your preparations, my dear," said he, gaz 
 ing with secret annoyance at her red and swollen eyes. 
 " The cars leave in half an hour. I will see Mrs. Os- 
 born in the mean time." 
 
 "I have endeavored, Mr. Fearing," said the lady, 
 with ill-suppressed agitation, " in the education of your 
 daughter, to fulfil to the letter the wishes of your la 
 mented wife ; and I am more than repaid by being able 
 to return her to you one of the most affectionate, lov 
 ing hearts it has ever been my fortune to know. Of 
 her accomplishments you will soon have an opportunity 
 to judge ; and even there I think you will say she ex 
 cels. Her career, I can easily prophesy, will be a bril 
 liant one. But not until you allow her the free exercise 
 
 30
 
 JULIETTE. 37 
 
 of her dearest hopes and wishes, will she be truly 
 happy." 
 
 " What can you mean, madam?" inquired Mr. Fear 
 ing, earnestly, startled by a sudden suspicion. "I 
 trust my daughter has been allowed to form no im 
 proper attachment?" 
 
 Mrs. Osborn smiled. "Feel no concern, sir," she 
 answered, "on that subject. Juliette, I can assure 
 you, is heart-whole. But she is, as I humbly hope, a 
 Christian ; and therefore " 
 
 " Madam," said the gentleman, sternly, " do I under 
 stand that you have been imparting to my child views 
 of religion which will prevent her enjoyment of the 
 gayeties natural to her age? If so, I have been indeed 
 deceived, and may live to curse the hour she was placed 
 under your roof. How long has this system been 
 going on ? and why has it been kept secret from me ? 
 Do you know, madam, you have been interfering with 
 all my plans for the advancement of my daughter's 
 interest ? " 
 
 " I have done nothing which will hinder the advance 
 ment of her best good," remarked the lady, with great 
 dignity. 
 
 " Juliette shall be made to give up these absurd no 
 tions," exclaimed Mr. Fearing, angrily. "She will be 
 a star among her fashionable friends ; and amid the 
 gayeties of^ city life she will soon forget all but the 
 wish to be admired." The gentleman's lip curled con 
 temptuously, recalling forcibly to the lady's memory 
 painful scenes, long forgotten, in the life of his wife. 
 4
 
 38 JULIETTE. 
 
 "Beware!" said she, hurriedly, as she heard Juli 
 ette's step approaching. " She is a tender flower, and 
 will droop under the least unkindness." 
 
 Notwithstanding Mr. Fearing's efforts at self-control, 
 the flashing of his eye showed that he was extremely 
 angry. He took his daughter's hand, as she entered, 
 and said, in a sharp tone, "Come, it is time we were 
 off. Bid adieu to Mrs. Osborn ; for, with my consent, 
 you shall never see her again." 
 
 Startled and trembling, the young girl gave one 
 glance into her father's face, and then threw herself 
 into the arms of her kind friend, weeping bitterly. 
 
 With a contemptuous " Pshaw ! " Mr. Fearing hast 
 ened to direct the coachman to pack on the trunks, 
 while the sobbing girl whispered, " Oh ! why is this ? 
 What have I done?" 
 
 "Nothing wrong, my darling," said the lady, con 
 trolling her own grief. " You will have sharp trials to 
 encounter. But do right, only do right, and all will 
 be well. I will pray for you, and write you often." 
 
 "Juliette, I am waiting," called her father. 
 
 They rode on in silence, the poor girl making no 
 effort to restrain her grief. 
 
 " We are approaching the depot," the father said, 
 trying to soften his voice. . " Wipe your tears, or cover 
 your face. I do not wish you to be a spectacle for 
 others to gaze upon." . 
 
 Juliette quickly pulled down her veil. Her heart 
 was ready to burst, and in vain she tried to check her 
 sobs. She had wept half the preceding night, at the
 
 JULIETTE. 39 
 
 thought of being separated from her beloved teacher 
 and her young companions ; but that grief was as noth 
 ing in comparison with the shock she had received by 
 her father's stern manner and terrible words. In all 
 her dreams of her city home, she had fancied Mrs. Os- 
 born as a frequent, a loved, and honored guest ; while 
 in turn she had played the hostess to each of her young 
 school-mates. How suddenly had these pleasant vis 
 ions vanished ! 
 
 During the long ride in the cars, she had only one 
 item of comfort, and that was the thought that Horace 
 would be living under the same roof, that he would 
 tell her how far she ought to conform to her father's 
 wishes, that he would sympathize in her distress. 
 
 As they approached the city, she put a constraint 
 upon her feelings, drew up her veil, and tried to inter 
 est herself in the view from the window. 
 
 Mr. Fearing, who had not unwillingly resigned his 
 seat by her side to a lady, occupied one directly back 
 of hers ; and as she lifted her veil, and, in the mirror 
 opposite, he caught a glance of her pallid, care-worn 
 countenance, his heart smote him. "I have made a 
 mistake," he said to himself. "My anger has carried 
 me too far. She is young, and may be easily moulded 
 to my wishes. I should have aimed to influence her 
 through her affections. Now I can see she shrinks 
 from me. Mrs. Osborn pshaw ! I have no patience 
 with her. It has been a long plot to deceive me. 
 Juliette shall learn that my will must be obeyed." 
 
 When they alighted from the cars, Peter, their
 
 40 JULIETTE. 
 
 coachman, was awaiting them. Giving him the checks 
 for the trunks, Mr. Fearing tenderly lifted his daugh 
 ter into the splendid vehicle. 
 
 "Come, my dear," he said; "forget the events of 
 the last few hours, and only remember that you have a 
 father who will endeavor to make you happy. You 
 will have a brilliant position, Juliette. Your company 
 will be eagerly sought for. You will be the envy and 
 admiration of society. Indulge me with smiles when 
 you can," he added, playfully taking her hand, "for 
 my heart has long been desolate." 
 
 "O father ! " she exclaimed, eagerly ; "I will try to 
 be all you wish ; " and she raised his hand to her lips. 
 
 "Here we are ! " said the gentleman, in a gay tone, 
 as the carriage stopped before an elegant freestone 
 mansion. 
 
 She gazed earnestly from the window at the lofty 
 building, one story towering above another. " It looks 
 so high and strange," she said, laughing. "I have not 
 seen it for six years." 
 
 A colored porter threw wide open the ponderous 
 doors to admit his young mistress. 
 
 "Welcome home, miss!" he said, grinning till he 
 showed all his white teeth. 
 
 Mr. Fearing laughed at her shy look and rosy blush. 
 " Send Mrs. Cummings to me," he said to a servant. 
 " She must throw off that girlish shyness," was~ his 
 silent reflection ; "and yet it is most attractive. It is 
 absolutely reviving to see anything so fresh and pure 
 in New York."
 
 JULIETTE. 41 
 
 These were his thoughts as he led her into the par 
 lor, and stood watching her eager, rapid glance around 
 her. 
 
 Mrs. Cummings soon appeared and was introduced 
 to her young lady. "Let Eliza unpack your trunks at 
 once, my dear," said her father, " so that you can dress 
 for dinner. It wants only an hour to the time," glanc 
 ing toward a beautifully ornamented French clock. 
 
 " Dress for dinner, father ? " she repeated ; " dinner 
 at six?" 
 
 " Yes, child," he answered, laughing gayly. " Where 
 have you lived, I wonder?" 
 
 " We always have dinner at Mrs. Osboru's at half- 
 past two, and at grandfather's at three, unless they 
 have grand company." 
 
 " Well, we are to have grand company to-night," he 
 responded, much amused. "No less than Miss Juli 
 ette Fearing ; but run away, or you will not have time 
 to dress, and remember your brothers will be impatient 
 to see you." 
 
 She caught his hand, kissed it warmly, and with a 
 most tender glance into his face, followed the staid, 
 dignified housekeeper up the long flight of stairs to a 
 magnificently furnished room in the third story. 
 
 Exclamations of " Oh, how beautiful ! Can this be 
 for me ? What exquisite mirrors ! What rich curtains ! " 
 followed one another in rapid succession. 
 
 Eliza, her own maid, as Mrs. Cummings informed 
 her, opened the door of a room adjoining, and dis 
 closed a beautiful apartment over the wide hall, which 
 4*
 
 42 JULIETTE. 
 
 her father had fitted as a boudoir. In one corner stood 
 a harp, while the choicest gems of art, both pictures 
 and statuary, adorned the walls and niches. 
 
 The waiting-maid hurriedly pulled one article after 
 another from the trunks, in the vain expectation of 
 finding something more fashionable ; and then, seeing 
 her young mistress would not soon be weary of exam 
 ining the bijouterie profusely scattered around her 
 apartments, ventured to suggest that the dinner-bell 
 would soon be heard. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" exclaimed Juliette; "and I can have 
 time to look at all these beauties another day. Oh, 
 how I wish Ella and Hatty and all the girls could 
 enjoy them with me ! " 
 
 Eliza smiled, and began to take down her lady's 
 hair. 
 
 "I always do up my hair myself," cried the young 
 lady ; " and I can do it much quicker. I cannot stop 
 to braid it to-day." 
 
 " O miss ! your brother is very particular. The 
 ladies all say Mr. Henry has such exquisite taste. 
 You had better let me do it for you. That coil is 
 very old-fashioned." 
 
 Juliette yielded, and her rich tresses were rapidly 
 plaited in the latest style. Her party dress and orna 
 ments were then brought out, and she was arrayed in 
 them, though not without a gentle remonstrance that, 
 after all, it " was only a family dinner." 
 
 " Your father will soon new furnish your wardrobe, 
 miss," said the girl, who thoroughly understood her
 
 JULIETTE. 43 
 
 own business ; " and maybe there will be a dozen 
 guests." 
 
 "Oh, I hope not!" was the earnest response. "I 
 want to see my brothers alone." 
 
 When the dinner-bell rang, Juliette, hastily taking 
 from her waiting-maid a perfumed, embroidered hand 
 kerchief, ran down the stairs. Her father was waiting 
 in the hall, and gave her his arm to the dining-room. 
 As soon as he heard her voice, Horace came eagerly 
 forward to welcome her, and Henry followed closely 
 behind him. 
 
 The older brother kissed her affectionately, bringing 
 a warm tint to her cheek. Henry stood back a mo 
 ment, eyed her curiously, then raised the tips of her 
 fingers to his lips. " Not so bad after all," he said, 
 with a slight shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 "For shame, Henry ! " said Mr. Fearing, smiling as 
 he saw Juliette raise her head with dignity at this 
 treatment. " For shame ! Is this the way to welcome 
 your sister?" 
 
 "Miss Fearing, excuse me," exclaimed Henry, with 
 a tone of mock regret. "Be assured, no one rejoices 
 more sincerely than I do at your return ; " and he 
 placed his hand in a theatrical manner on his heart. 
 
 Juliette laughed merrily. It was a clear, musical 
 laugh, and echoed pleasantly through the spacious 
 room. The party were evidently in the best of 
 spirits, as Mr. Fearing led his daughter to the seat 
 opposite his own, while the others stood waiting for 
 her to be seated.
 
 44 JULIETTE. 
 
 " O father ! " she began ; but, catching a glance 
 from Horace, she quickly took the chair the servant 
 was holding for her use. 
 
 The hour since she left him had been diligently 
 spent by her father in forming plans for her introduc 
 tion into society. He thought he saw his way clear to 
 the fulfilment of his wishes, notwithstanding the ter 
 rible announcement of Mrs. Osborn. "I see how it 
 "is," he said to himself, as he wandered ruthlessly over 
 the velvet flowers with which the parlors were strown ; 
 " I must dazzle her eyes with splendor. She will soon 
 be in such a whirl of gayety that she will have no time 
 for gloomy thoughts. She is very, very lovely ; and 
 I shall take pride in introducing her as my daughter. 
 If I do not greatly mistake, I can govern her com 
 pletely through her affections. How quickly she threw 
 off" her constraint when I treated her with tenderness. 
 Sweet child ! what a treasure my lost Juliette would 
 have deemed her ! Ah ! how much I regret my mis 
 take in woiinding her gentle heart ; but she seems 
 wholly to have forgotten it. Well, henceforth her 
 path shall be strown with roses, and in their fragrance 
 she shall forget there is such a messenger as death." 
 
 The dinner though for reasons easily imagined 
 Mr. Fearing had chosen to have strictly confined to 
 his family was far beyond anything Juliette ever 
 remembered to have witnessed. One course after 
 another was brought on ; many of them removed 
 without being tasted. She was invited to drink wines, 
 of which she knew not even the names, and when she
 
 JULIETTE. 45 
 
 playfully declined, was told by Horace that a gentle 
 man considered it an insult for a lady to refuse to 
 drink with him ; but that, if she disliked it, she might 
 only raise the glass to her lips. 
 
 Before they arose from the table, the young girl be 
 came afraid she should sadly disgrace herself in the 
 eyes of her father's fashionable friends, and wished 
 for a little delay before she was introduced into 
 society. 
 
 In the mean time, the three gentlemen were intent 
 on watching her every motion. Even the pretty blush 
 as she took her plate from the waiter who stood behind 
 her chair, and the low-spoken "Thank you," when he 
 eagerly anticipated her wants, were irresistibly at 
 tractive. 
 
 When they returned to the parlor and drew their 
 chairs together, for conversation, there was a girlish 
 abandon, a freedom from affectation in all that she 
 said and did, exhibiting to her father and Horace such 
 a pure and lovely spirit, that they were charmed. 
 
 Henry paid her the compliment of remaining in the 
 parlor for an hour, and before he left declared it was 
 only for his peace of mind he tore himself away, as he 
 was more than half in love with his sister already. 
 
 "Don't be out late, my son," urged Mr. Fearing, a 
 shade of anxiety crossing his features. 
 
 " Father," said, Juliette, when she had shyly accepted 
 a seat on his knee, "I'm afraid you will be ashamed 
 of me when you have guests. I am not at all sure I 
 should not in my ignorance insult them terribly, as I
 
 46 JULIETTE. 
 
 did you and Horace, to-day. And they would scarcely 
 tell me of it as candidly as he did." 
 
 " Never fear," responded Mr. Fearing, in a gay tone. 
 " You have a natural quickness at adapting yourself to 
 the company you are in, which will do you good ser 
 vice. When you are in company, watch those ladies 
 who please you best, and imitate them." 
 
 " I would hardly advise that," added Horace, eagerly. 
 "I am satisfied with my sister as she is." 
 
 An hour more was passed in hearing Juliette play 
 and sing, her brother accompanying her in some Italian 
 duets ; and then, as the tiny clock struck the hour of 
 ten, the young girl started to retire. 
 
 Mr. Fearing laughed heartily. "You are a little 
 rustic," he exclaimed. " Why, the New York world 
 are just waking up, to begin the gayeties of the night. 
 Henry, I'll venture to say, will attend two or three 
 parties more this evening. Ring your bell for Eliza, 
 my dear, if she is not already in your chamber. She 
 has nothing to do but attend upon you." 
 
 She put up her pretty mouth for a kiss, and then 
 tripped lightly up the stairs. 
 
 " What a girlish little thing it is, to be sure ! " re 
 marked Mr. Fearing, all a father's pride beaming in 
 his countenance. " She will make a great sensation, 
 hey, Horace?" 
 
 The young man sighed. " What a pity it would be 
 for her to exchange those artless ways and pure 
 thoughts, for the hackneyed manners and heartless
 
 JULIETTE. 47 
 
 conversation of a city belle ! How long will she con 
 tinue fresh and lovely as she is now, do you think?" 
 
 "True, I have thought of all this. Oh, how many 
 times this evening I have wished your mother were 
 here to guide her ! " 
 
 " Yes, it appears to me she labors under a great dis 
 advantage in not having a female friend on whom she 
 can rely. Some one who " 
 
 "I will have none of them," interrupted Mr. Fear 
 ing, sharply. " Even Mrs. Osborn has deceived me ; 
 though, after all, I owe her many thanks for returning 
 my daughter an unsophisticated girl, instead of an 
 affected, conceited boarding-school miss. ' 
 
 Horace rose. * 
 
 "Are you going out to-night, my son?" 
 
 "No, sir; for once I'll imitate a worthy example, 
 and retire to bed." 
 
 " Good-night, then. I confess I have enjoyed more 
 this evening than I can easily tell you."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " It is sad 
 
 To think how few our pleasures really are ; 
 And for the which we risk eternal good." 
 
 ELIZA was awaiting her young mistress, having 
 carefully sorted her wardrobe, and laid the 
 clothes in the drawers. 
 
 While at school, Mr. Fearing had given his daugh 
 ter a liberal allowance ; but Mrs. Osborn wisely for 
 bore the purchase of articles which, by distinguishing 
 Juliette from the others, would cultivate an excessive 
 fondness for dress. 
 
 Every year, however, she had received rich presents 
 from her grandparents ; generally some expensive set 
 of jewels, or valuable addition to her wardrobe. 
 
 Eliza was quite sure that her opinion would be asked 
 by Mr. Fearing concerning the replenishing of his 
 daughter's attire. She was prepared to give it. 
 
 Juliette, after leaving her father and brother, hast 
 ened to her room, her heart beating warmly with 
 gratitude and love to her heavenly Father, who had 
 cast her lot in such pleasant places. She longed to 
 throw herself upon her knees, and give vent to her 
 feelings in words of praise ; but the presence of her 
 
 48
 
 JULIETTE. 49 
 
 maid restrained her. She allowed herself quickly to 
 be disrobed, therefore, though feeling all the time that 
 she much preferred the old way of waiting on herself; 
 and then, assuming a warm dressing-gown, assured 
 Eliza that she had no further need of her services, as 
 she intended to read awhile before retiring. The im 
 pressions of the evening had been so wholly pleasant, 
 that not until she had read her portion of Scripture and 
 committed herself to His hands who had hitherto or 
 dered her path in so much mercy, did her mind revert 
 to the events of the earlier part of the day. 
 
 The more she reflected upon it, the more puzzled 
 she became to account for the excitement and dis 
 pleasure exhibited by her father on parting from Mrs. 
 Osborn. And then those terribly earnest words, whis 
 pered with so much emotion in her ear, " Yon will 
 have sharp trials to encounter ; but ' do right only 
 do right' and all will be well." What could they 
 mean? "What dreadful afflictions are before me?" 
 she asked, again and again. "I know father some 
 times speaks sharply ; but he is so kind and tender, 
 his eyes beam so fondly upon me, I am sure he loves 
 me ; and then his words, 'Forget everything, but that 
 you have a father who will endeavor to make you 
 happy.' Certainly, I shall, as Mrs. Osborn says, try 
 to do right ; and if I do, God will help me." And 
 then, with a determination to write at once to Mrs. 
 Osborn, in spite of the continual rumble of carriages 
 over the pavement, she fell into a sweet and tranquil 
 slumber. 
 
 5
 
 50 JULIETTE. 
 
 In the morning she arose and partially dressed her 
 self, that she might have time for her early devo 
 tions before she rang for her maid. Then gracefully 
 yielding herself into the hands of her skilful attendant, 
 she was quite startled at the image presented by her 
 mirror ; her soft, rich braids of hair being entwined 
 with the scarlet blossoms of the fuchsia and wound 
 around her well-shaped head. 
 
 "It is small credit to me, miss," said Eliza, smiling 
 at the young lady's look of pleased surprise. "Such 
 rich and abundant tresses as I have to do with. There, 
 miss, let me hold the hand-glass for you to look be 
 hind. Your brother will be delighted, miss." 
 
 " Which brother?" asked Juliette, with a blush. 
 
 " Mr. Henry, miss. The young ladies, where I was 
 at service last, were always talking of Mr. Henry 
 Fearing. They thought him very handsome, and very 
 polished, and so on." 
 
 Juliette laughed, and wondered to herself whether 
 anybody could doubt that Horace was much handsomer 
 and more noble-looking ; but perhaps these ladies were 
 not acquainted with him. 
 
 Being assured by Eliza that the breakfast-bell would 
 not ring for an hour or two yet, the young girl resolved 
 to tune her harp, and have a good practice upon it. 
 She had scarcely touched the first note before Horace 
 joined her. 
 
 "I must improve all the moments I have," he said, 
 gayly ; " for I prophesy you will not arise so early a 
 month from this time."
 
 JULIETTE. 51 
 
 " And why not, pray ?" she asked, innocently. "I 
 mean to take this hour for ray practice in music. I 
 cannot play well upon the harp." 
 
 The young man laughed, though he said,- "I don't 
 know but I ought to cry. Why, my dear sis, when 
 you are out night after night at the theatre and opera, 
 at parties and balls, you will scarcely feel like rising 
 till noon." 
 
 "But I don't mean to do all that," she commenced, 
 earnestly. " If I wished it, I am too young, and father 
 would not allow it ; but I do not wish it. I should 
 not enjoy such gayeties. I like to hear a concert now 
 and then, and go into such company as you and father 
 approve ; but I should not enjoy such a life as you 
 mention at all. I am in earnest, brother," she added, 
 warmly, as he continued to gaze in her animated coun 
 tenance. "I could not do it; for I do not approve of 
 such dissipation." 
 
 A quick, sharp pang shot through the young man's 
 heart. He remembered something of the trial his 
 mother had endured in consequence of his father's 
 prejudice against religion. "Must this tender plant 
 be crushed with unkindness ? " 
 
 "Why do you gaze at me so, dear Horace?" she 
 asked, quickly noticing the change in his countenance. 
 " Have I said anything wrong ? " 
 
 " Sit here by me, Juliette, and let me give you some 
 advice," was his more serious remark. "For your 
 sake, I do wish that your own plan could be carried 
 out; but that is impossible. Your father expects a
 
 52 JULIETTE. 
 
 great triumph for his only daughter. His heart is 
 fully set on it. He has impatiently waited for this 
 time ; and nothing you could say ; no influence that I 
 could bring to bear upon him ; and you know, dear 
 sister, for the sake of my mother he is very indulgent 
 tome; nothing would turn him from his purpose. 
 He will be very loving and tender of you ; he will 
 surround you with luxuries. You can scarce name a 
 wish, that money can procure, but it will be gratified; 
 but his word must be obeyed." 
 
 "I don't know what you mean, Horace," said the 
 young girl, growing a shade paler. "You look so 
 very sober, you terrify me. I have no intention of 
 disobeying my father. I love him dearly, so much 
 so, that I would gladly give up all society, and pass 
 every evening like the last. But that, of course, I do 
 not expect ; neither he nor you would " 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " he exclaimed, playfully patting her 
 cheek. "I can speak for myself when the time 
 comes ; but now, as you don't understand me, I wish 
 to explain more fully. You say you don't approve of 
 too much gayety ; you have some scruples of con 
 science, I suppose? " 
 
 She blushed as she slightly bowed her assent. 
 
 " Is it not a first duty to obey your father ? " 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so." 
 
 " And if he were to command you to do what you 
 think to be wrong ? " 
 
 Juliette's breath came quickly. Mrs. Osborn's words
 
 JULIETTE. 53 
 
 flashed upon her mind. " This is to be ray trial, then," 
 she thought. 
 
 " I ought to obey God rather than man," was the 
 soft and whispered response. She held her head clown 
 to conceal the large drops which stood in her eyes; 
 and her breast heaved with emotion. Horace started 
 from her, and walked to the window, but presently 
 returned. "Juliette," he exclaimed, in an impressive 
 tone, "I wish from my heart I knew how to advise 
 you. I love and respect religion for my mother's 
 sake ; but I do not pretend to possess it. If you per 
 sist in refusing to gratify your father's wishes, I can see 
 nothing but unhappiness before you. You are poorly 
 fitted to encounter a will like his." 
 
 "I wish, dear brother, you knew the happiness of 
 loving the Saviour," she responded, gently. "I have 
 depended upon you so much to help me to be firm ; 
 but God has promised his aid." She gave him her 
 hand, saying, "Leave me a few minutes now. I will 
 join you soon in the breakfast-room." 
 
 Did he or her father imagine how those few minutes 
 were passed? Yes, in that prayerless house there was 
 one heart offering up its earnest supplications to God 
 for help to prove herself worthy to be his child. And 
 the answer came in peace to her own soul. 
 
 She took her place at the breakfast-table, from 
 which Henry generally absented himself, with so bright 
 and joyous a countenance that Horace was surprised. 
 
 When the meal was concluded, her father led her to 
 the library, where, after an eager survey of the books 
 6*
 
 54 JULIETTE. 
 
 and statuary, she playfully put her arms around his 
 neck. She had already seen that he was pleased to 
 have her demonstrative in her affection. 
 
 K Shall I sing for you, father?" she asked. 
 
 " I'm afraid you'd sing my senses all away, as you 
 did last night. No, dear, we have important business 
 for the morning. Eliza tells me that you have scarcely 
 a dress fit to be seen ; so I shall take you to Madame 
 Ellstaff first. After this you must learn to supply 
 your own wardrobe. You have only to come to me 
 when your purse is empty. I have purchased a small 
 phaeton for your use, my dear. When you wish^ to 
 ride, Peter will drive you." 
 
 " Oh, father, you are very kind ! I'm afraid your 
 poor little girl will quite lose herself amid all this 
 splendor." 
 
 "It is my pleasure to see you happy," he said, ten 
 derly. "Only be obedient to my wishes, and you 
 shall have everything your heart desires." 
 
 Why did her head so suddenly droop, and the color 
 recede from her face ? 
 
 "I love you too well to disobey you, father," she 
 answered, in a touching tone of humility. "But you 
 know I have a heavenly Father, too." 
 
 Mr. Fearing frowned, but immediately replied, in a 
 tone of forced gayety : " I will order the carriage at 
 once." 
 
 In spite of all her efforts to conceal it, the day was 
 a weary one to Juliette. All the morning was passed 
 in deciding upon silks, tissues, and crepe de lisse ;
 
 JULIETTE. 55 
 
 then home to lunch ; and afterwards out again with a 
 lady of fashion to select hats, dress hats, walking 
 hats, riding hats, etc. The poor little miss began to 
 look back with keen regret to her school-days, when 
 one new hat at a time was deemed quite sufficient. 
 
 At dinner she saw Horace Tor the first time since 
 the morning. Henry had sent word that an impera 
 tive engagement would prevent his dining at home. 
 Juliette looked pale and tired, though she tried to be 
 merry. There were one or two guests ; and no private 
 conversation was practicable. When they adjourned 
 to the drawing-room, the young girl sang a few tunes ; 
 but it was plainly with an effort ; and after an hour 
 her father advised her to retire. 
 
 The next day brought invitations for a ball and 
 party, and from this time callers and engagements 
 were so numerous, there seemed not a moment left for 
 reflection. The intelligence that Horace expected soon 
 to leave the country saddened Juliette's heart, for 
 though she saw comparatively little of him, and 
 scarcely ever a moment alone ; yet her heart always 
 turned to him for sympathy and advice. Every day 
 her father seemed more fond of her, and more grat 
 ified at the admiration she excited. To a young and 
 ardent mind, there was indeed something intoxicating 
 in the cup of flattery so suddenly held to her lips. 
 Often, as she entered a party or assembly, dressed 
 with the most exquisite taste, leaning on her father's 
 arm, a buzz of admiration met her ears, the words, 
 " Oh, isn't she charming, divine ? " bringing a richer
 
 56 JULIETTE. 
 
 tint to her cheek, and additional brightness to her 
 eyes. Then her manner was so easy in its girlish 
 simplicity ; there was such an earnest frankness and 
 grace in her conversation, that those who could not 
 be attracted by mere beauty became her most infatu 
 ated worshippers. It was very flattering to Mr. Fear 
 ing, that though she responded warmly to kindness ; 
 yet his daughter plainly preferred his attentions to any 
 of the eager applicants for her favor. Often, while 
 carrying on conversation with others, his heart would 
 swell with pride as he watched her graceful form float 
 ing through the ballroom, or heard the full, clear 
 notes of her sweet, rich voice accompanying the piano. 
 
 "I knew her better than she knew herself," was his 
 pleased thought, as he met her eyes lighted with ani 
 mation, and heard her low, musical laugh. 
 
 As one week after another glided swiftly away, one, 
 two, three gentlemen sought her hand in marriage ; 
 but she answered, "I am too young." 
 
 When her father's consent was urged, she would 
 shudder, as she more firmly declined. There was an 
 unmistakable air of dissipation about these applicants 
 for her affection, which disgusted her pure heart. They 
 reminded her too strongly of her brother Henry, 
 whose blurred eyes, blanched, sallow complexion, 
 and fetid breath often caused her to loathe his 
 caresses.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " I shall the effect of this good lesson keep 
 As watchman to my heart." 
 
 THE conduct of Horace caused Juliette no small 
 anxiety. The time of his departure was post 
 poned "from one steamer to another; but though she 
 often saw him in company, and sometimes met his 
 eyes fastened upon her with a reproachful tenderness ; 
 yet he persiste'ntly avoided her society. When they 
 accidentally were alone in the parlor (he never sought 
 her boudoir now), his manner was constrained and 
 cold. 
 
 This at last gave her so much pain, that one day, 
 meeting him on the stairs, she begged him to accom 
 pany her to the library. 
 
 "I will gladly do so," he answered, with more 
 warmth than he had shown for weeks, "for I have a 
 letter which came in an envelope to me, but which is 
 addressed to you. In a note accompanying it, Mrs. 
 Osborn complains that you have never answered one 
 of her letters." 
 
 "I have never received one," exclaimed Juliette, 
 eagerly tearing open the welcome epistle ; " but I can 
 
 67
 
 58 JULIETTE. 
 
 read it by and by," she added, thrusting it into her 
 pocket, and turning to him with a deep blush. "I 
 have wanted a long time, dear brother, to ask how I 
 have offended you? Whatever I have done, I am sure 
 you would forgive me if you knew how much I miss 
 the kind care and interest you felt for me when I was 
 at school." 
 
 Her manner was so affectionate that Horace started 
 forward as if about to speak warmly, but, controlling 
 himself, replied, in almost a bitter tone, "Juliette, the 
 shy, loving sister, and Miss Fearing, the beautiful 
 heiress, the gay belle of New York, are two totally 
 unlike characters. Could I be guilty of the -folly of 
 supposing that among the throng of admirers my 
 brotherly affection could be missed?" 
 
 "And do you really think me changed?" she asked, 
 her eyelashes heavy with tears. "Ah, Horace, you 
 have made me very unhappy ! " 
 
 She turned away, and was about to leave the room ; 
 but he sprang forward and caught her hand. "Juli 
 ette," he said, earnestly, "will you answer one ques 
 tion?" 
 
 She trembled, but replied, "Certainly, I will." 
 
 " Are you happy ? I mean, do you enjoy this life 
 of incessant gayety ; this whirlpool of excitement ? " 
 
 Large, pearly drops coursed silently down her face 
 as she answered, " You will think me very weak and 
 foolish, I know, when I confess that sometimes I have 
 been pleased at the attentions I have received. It Avas 
 so unexpected that it flattered my pride ; but the pain
 
 JULIETTE. 59 
 
 has been far greater than the pleasure." She held out 
 her hand ; and he saw that it was thin to transparency. 
 " This life is fast wearing me out," she said, weeping. 
 "This struggle between the fear of offending father 
 and the claims of conscience is terrible." 
 
 The young man pressed her thin lingers to his lips, 
 while his breast heaved with excitement. "I have had 
 a struggle, too," he began; "but I cannot relate it 
 here ; " and he glanced around the spacious apartment, 
 as if he loathed the sight of it. " Will you come with 
 me to mother's grave ? " 
 
 "Yes, gladly." 
 
 They were shortly on their way to the far-famed 
 garden, where lie the sleeping dead. Seated directly 
 opposite Juliette, Horace had opportunity to observe 
 how very pale her cheek had become, and how attenu 
 ated her form. She was perusing the letter of Mrs. 
 Osborn, and wept bitterly over it. 
 
 " Strange ! " she exclaimed. " She says she has 
 never received a letter from me since I left; and I 
 have written her often, though, since I found she did 
 not answer, not so frequently as before. She asks the 
 same question that you did, Horace, 'Are you happy? 
 Is your heart at rest?' Dear Mrs. Osborn! how I 
 wish I had never left you! Oh, you would indeed 
 pity, while you blamed me, for my want of firmness, 
 if you knew all I have suffered ! " 
 
 Bidding Peter await them at the entrance, they wan 
 dered away to a retired part of the grounds, where, 
 for the first time, Juliette saw the monument erected
 
 60 JULIETTE. 
 
 to the memory of her step-mother. Her own mother, 
 too, lay there, and their infant brother and sister. 
 
 When she had gazed upon the low mounds in silence, 
 Horace drew forth one of the rustic seats, and opening 
 another beside her, he took a small Bible from his 
 pocket. " Do you remember this ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes ; I gave it to you, long ago." 
 
 She turned to the fly-leaf, and read, "To my very 
 dear brother, Horace Everett, from his affectionate 
 little sister Juliette." 
 
 "How well I remember writing that," she said, 
 glancing in his face, with a smile. "Mrs. Osborn 
 ruled it for me, and advised me to put in my whole 
 name. I did not wish to, because it is Fearing ; and 
 I thought it would not look well that a brother's and 
 sister's name should be unlike. She explained to me 
 then, what I never understood before, that you were 
 not my own brother; but I'm sure, Horace, when you 
 are like yourself, kind and good as to-day, I love you 
 far better than I do Henry." 
 
 " I have thanked God many times," exclaimed the 
 young man, "that you were not my own sister; but 
 now, dear Juliette, I must tell my tale. Ever since 
 you gave me this little book, I have read in it occa 
 sionally. My mother loved the Bible, and died at 
 peace with the Saviour it reveals. I knew the time 
 when you, too, began to love Christ ; and I often won 
 dered what would be the result of your coming to live 
 in New York. My heart ached for you the morning 
 you so earnestly appealed to me ; but when you an-
 
 JULIETTE. 61 
 
 swered my question by saying so firmly, ' I must obey 
 God rather than man,' I was sure he would strengthen 
 you to do what is right. I acknowledged the power 
 of religion, and longed for a personal acquaintance 
 with it. I began to read my Bible daily ; but instead 
 of finding peace, my soul was like 'the troubled sea, 
 which cannot rest.' I withdrew as much as possible 
 from society, and deferred from time to time my de 
 parture for Europe. There were other reasons, too, 
 why I could not tear myself away ; but I will not 
 speak of them now. I read one passage after another 
 which condemned the life I now lead : ' Be ye not con 
 formed to this world ; but be ye transformed by the 
 renewing of your minds.' 'Thou shalt not follow a 
 multitude to do evil.' 'Come out from among them 
 and be separate, and I will receive you, and will be a 
 Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daugh 
 ters, saith the Lord Almighty ! ' Shall I confess it to 
 you, dear Juliette, while I longed to break away from 
 all these gayeties, for at times I loathed them ; yet I 
 had not strength to come out manful ly and declare 
 myself a Christian? I dread the sneers and ridicule 
 I should meet, and, more than all, I dread father's 
 displeasure." 
 
 Juliette sat covering her face with her hands, the 
 tears trickling through her fingers. How clearly he 
 had stated the struggles of her own heart ! 
 
 "Forgive me if I pain you too much, Juliette," he 
 added, gently touching her shoulder; "but I have 
 feared for you, too. I am sure the Bible is true. "We 
 6
 
 62 JULIETTE. 
 
 are either for Christ, or against him. We cannot serve 
 two masters. By mingling in these gayeties, and pur 
 suing them as the business of our lives, we necessarily 
 declare that we approve of them. I met you among 
 the eager throng after pleasure, and I feared you had 
 forgotten your sweet hopes of heaven. I remembered 
 that I advised to this course, and this added a keener 
 pang to my suffering." 
 
 " Dear brother ! " said the weeping girl ; " I cannot 
 tell you how I feel ; but I have had more real pleasure 
 in this short interview than in all the hours of the past 
 winter. I see now the path of duty plain before me. 
 I must sooner or later confess my love to Christ ; and 
 I will do it at once. Yes, I am resolved. I love 
 father, and will yield obedience to his wishes when 
 ever I can do so without breaking the commands of 
 my Saviour ; and you, dear Horace, will pray for me 
 and strengthen me." 
 
 "I will do the first wherever I am; but I much 
 regret, now, that I have engaged my passage in the 
 next steamer, and sh'all sail in a few days." 
 
 " O Horace ! " faltered the poor girl. 
 
 The young man remained for a moment lost in 
 thought. "My uncle, Cyrus Everett, with his family, 
 are going," he said, at length; "and he requested as 
 a personal favor to himself that I would accompany 
 them. This I was the more glad to do, as my aunt is 
 a warm-hearted Christian. But, Juliette," he added, 
 suddenly observing how very pale she had become, "I 
 will withdraw my consent if I can be of service to
 
 JULIETTE. 63 
 
 you. My uncle will not insist when he knows. Say, 
 Juliette, shall I stay?" 
 
 She shook her head, but did not attempt to speak. 
 
 He clasped her hand, and found it cold. "Yes, 
 dear Juliette, on many accounts I wish to remain. 
 Before I leave, I wish, I have long wished to say 
 that it is with more than a brother's love " 
 
 He was interrupted by a party who were passing 
 beyond them to another grave. 
 
 "No, Horace," responded the young girl, in an un 
 steady voice, when the persons were out of hearing, 
 " you must not delay on my account. I have been led 
 on from day to day, in the hope that I might, that 
 something might happen, which would induce father 
 to consent that I should follow the dictates of my own 
 conscience. I see now that I can never expect the 
 blessing of God while I am out of the path of duty. 
 I must give up all, even the love of my earthly father, 
 if that is necessary, rather than displease my heavenly 
 Father. I must remember that he has said, 'Whoso 
 loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy 
 of me.' I dread it more than I can express/' she 
 added, looking in his face with a pensive smile. "I 
 shudder at the thought of his displeasure. 'The 
 spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.'" She 
 sighed heavily, but after a moment looked up with a 
 bright smile, adding, " I need not depend on my own 
 strength. He will be with me, and he has said, ' As 
 thy day is, so shall thy strength be.'" 
 
 " I wish Mrs. Osborn could be with you while I am
 
 64 JULIETTE. 
 
 away," exclaimed Horace, warmly. "I ain more than 
 half a mind to give up travelling at all, until" he 
 checked himself, "and enter on my profession at 
 once." 
 
 His eager, impassioned glance caused the blushes to 
 burn on Juliette's cheeks, and, rising hastily, she said, 
 "I thank you, dear brother, more than I can express, 
 for bringing me here, and for your faithfulness in re 
 minding me of my duty. I shall feel strengthened, in 
 endeavoring to do right, by knowing that you are 
 struggling in the same path. We will pray for each 
 other, and you will write me often." 
 
 She turned quickly away, to conceal the drops that 
 glistened in her eyes, and stood a moment by her 
 mother's grave. "How soon we shall all be lying 
 here ! " she said, in a trembling voice. 
 
 "Yes," he added, "and how glorious will be our 
 rising from the tomb, if we earnestly strive after holi 
 ness ! Only this morning I read the precious words, 
 'Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness' 
 sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'" 
 
 Drawing her hand within his arm, they walked in 
 silence to the carriage, where Peter was impatiently 
 awaiting them. As they approached their home, Ju 
 liette said, earnestly, "I cannot attend Mrs. LeFcvre's 
 ball to-night." 
 
 "I have already declined," remarked Horace. 
 
 "I might in truth say I am too ill to go," she re 
 joined, pressing her hand to her head, "for indeed I 
 am far from well ; but it would not be the whole truth.
 
 JULIETTE. 65 
 
 The trial must come sooner or later." She stopped 
 suddenly, while her form shook with emotion. 
 
 It was with difficulty that the young man restrained 
 himself from folding her to his breast, and comfort 
 ing her with the assurance that he would be near to 
 strengthen her and plead her cause. How often dur 
 ing the next t\vo years did he regret that he had not 
 done so ! 
 
 "I fear you are ill, too," she said, gazing affection 
 ately in his pale face, and trying to repress a sigh. 
 
 "No, I am perfectly well ; " and at this moment the 
 carriage stopped in Madison Square. 
 6*.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Sighs now breath'd 
 Unutterable, which the spirit of prayer 
 Inspir'd and wing'd for heaven with speedier flight 
 Than loudest oratory " 
 
 JULIETTE proceeded at once to her chamber, de 
 termined to seek help of God, and then, without 
 delay, impart to her father her new resolve. But be 
 fore she reached her room, Eliza met her with a hasty 
 note from him, stating that he had been suddenly sum 
 moned to H , as his mother was very ill. He 
 
 begged her not to follow him ; he would return for her 
 if her presence was necessary, but added, "If you 
 wish to attend the ball this evening, Horace will 
 doubtless go with you, in company with one of your 
 married friends." 
 
 This short note, even though containing sad tidings, 
 was such an inexpressible relief to the poor girl's pent- 
 up feelings, that she burst into tears. ' As soon as she 
 could compose herself, she ran down to show it to 
 Horace. She found him in one of the parlors, gazing 
 vacantly into the back court. " See, brother ! " she 
 exclaimed, " is it wrong to feel that the hand of God 
 is in this ? " 
 
 66
 
 v JULIETTE. 67 
 
 He glanced quickly over the note, then earnestly 
 regarding her expectant countenance, returned it with 
 a smile. " Grandmother is subject to these attacks," 
 he said, after a moment. "I think there is no occasion 
 for alarm on her account." 
 
 He presently relapsed into thought ; but when Ju 
 liette returned, after having given her bonnet and 
 shawl to Eliza, he roused himself, and drawing her 
 toward a lounge, seated himself by her side. 
 
 "I have given orders that no callers be admitted," 
 she began. "We will have a cosey cup of tea in the 
 library ; and then I will sing and play for you, as I 
 did the first evening after I came home. Dear me, 
 how simple and ignorant I was then ! I have grown 
 very old these last few mouths. Let us imagine our 
 selves back at dear Mrs. Osborn's, and that the girls 
 have left us in the parlor, for a good long chat, as they 
 used to do. Oh, how often the past winter I have 
 longed for those delightful old times ! " 
 
 Horace laughed, but it was plainly forced, and at 
 last he said, "It's no use trying to conceal it, Juliette, 
 I am half distracted between my desire to stay till this 
 in regard to you is decided, and my promise to accom 
 pany my uncle abroad. Even the anticipation of a 
 quiet evening with you will not turn rny thoughts from 
 this unpleasant subject." 
 
 "I will decide for you, then," she answered, speak 
 ing with animation. "You shall state all the reasons, 
 pro and con, and then I'll decide." 
 
 "No, for I cannot; at least, I ought not to, state
 
 68 JULIETTE. 
 
 all my reasons." Horace avoided her eye, and looked 
 greatly embarrassed. "I ought not to tell you at 
 present." 
 
 "There are two reasons in favor of your going at 
 once," resumed Juliette, innocently, little dreaming 
 of the tumult in his breast. "It will.be so much 
 plcasanter for you to have agreeable company ; and the 
 second is " 
 
 "Well, what is the second?" as she hesitated and 
 blushed. 
 
 "Why, of course, the sooner you go, the sooner 
 you'll return. Isn't that a good reason?" 
 
 " The very best you could have named. And you 
 will promise to welcome the wanderer back?" he 
 added, earnestly. 
 
 " Certainly I will. Why, only think, when you are 
 away I shall have nobody to to take your place." 
 
 "I don't think I shall be absent but a few months, 
 and then" 
 
 He rose and walked to the window. 
 
 "And by that time," rejoined Juliette, "I hope I 
 shall have convinced dear father that it is more for his 
 interest to allow me to be a good, dutiful daughter in 
 the way my conscience approves. I wonder some 
 times, when he sees the effect of such dissipation on 
 Henry, that he does not fear it for me." 
 
 "Poor Henry ! " repeated Horace, "how changed he 
 
 is ! Naturally amiable, generous, and yielding, he has 
 
 heretofore been more sinned against than sinning. Now 
 
 . I fear the worst, from the degraded company he seeks."
 
 JULIETTE. G9 
 
 This was a painful thought for both of them, and 
 they turned from it. Juliette brought her portfolio, 
 and wrote a long letter to Mrs s Osborn, from which I 
 make the following extract : 
 
 " You say truly, my dear teacher, that no one can 
 expect or claim the blessing of Heaven while engaged 
 in the mere pursuit of pleasure. Certainly I feel this 
 in my own case. Probably no one has ever enjoyed a 
 more favorable opportunity to test the pleasures of 
 fashionable life, or been more engaged in a ceaseless 
 chase after gayety, than I, during the last few months. 
 I do not hesitate to pronounce them unsatisfying. 
 Yes, I have found, by my own bitter experience, that 
 I cannot attend balls and gay assemblies, that I cannot 
 hasten night after night from the theatre or the opera, 
 and at the same time enjoy that sweet peace and trust 
 in my heavenly Father which has been my portion in 
 former times. Indeed, this round of excitement and 
 fashion indisposes me for serious reading and prayer. 
 I have often thought of your last words ; but little did 
 I dream how difficult it would be for me to follow 
 your advice. I seem only now, within a few hours, 
 to have awaked to the dreadful dangers I have in 
 curred, but am resolved, with the help of God, to 
 take a stand for him. I am sure, dear teacher, I shall 
 have your prayers that, however much tempted, I may 
 be faithful to the end." 
 
 This letter she gave to her brother to post for her. 
 Then the dinner-bell rang, at which meal Henry was 
 present, and was told of his grandmother's illness.
 
 70 JULIETTE. 
 
 He was greatly vexed that his father happened to 
 be away just when he wanted a fresh supply of cash. 
 His sister eagerly told him s she had just received a 
 large sum from her father, which was at his service ; 
 but he only laughed. " If you have two thousand dol 
 lars, I will take it, and thank you," said he, presently. 
 "Somehow I must get that sum to-night." 
 
 Juliette uttered an exclamation of surprise, but 
 noticed immediately that Horace was looking very 
 grave. 
 
 "I'll be bound," said Henry, unmindful of the pres 
 ence of the servants, "I'd give all I'm worth, which, to 
 be sure, is precious little at this minute, if I could 
 keep out of these cursed scrapes, as you do, Horace. 
 Why, I don't believe you spend a quarter part of your 
 income." 
 
 "Perhaps not. I value my property too much to 
 throw it away upon notorious blacklegs." 
 
 "Don't, Horace !" exclaimed the young man, glanc 
 ing in confusion at his sister. "You shock the poor 
 little girl. Well, I'm in for two thousand, and you 
 know debts of honor must be paid." 
 
 "If you were really in trouble, Henry, you know I 
 would divide my last dollar with you ; but I never will 
 give my money to sharpers. I dare not do it, for it 
 would not be right." 
 
 The young man drank glass after glass of wine, 
 until Horace glanced at his sister to intimate that she 
 had better rise from the table. 
 
 They returned to the parlor, when Henry threw
 
 JULIETTE. 71 
 
 himself on the sofa, and covered his face with his 
 hands. 
 
 Juliette's heart bled for him. Oh, how earnestly 
 her soul ascended in prayer to God that he might see 
 the error of his ways, and turn before it was too late ! 
 
 At length he started up, saying, "There is no help 
 
 for it. I must go to H ," and he hastily left the 
 
 house. 
 
 In the winter months there was always a bright fire 
 in the library, and here Juliette and Horace repaired. 
 He led her to the piano, and, turning aside the sheets 
 containing operas, waltzes, and marches, she selected 
 some simple melodies, which she had sung in child 
 hood. Then they drew their chairs in front of the 
 glowing coals, and talked long and earnestly of the 
 subject dearest to their hearts. They spoke of his 
 mother ; and Horace called to his sister's mind the in 
 structions she had given them. They strengthened 
 each other in the resolution- to maintain a consistent 
 Christian character, even though persecution should 
 follow ; and then Juliette made known her strong de 
 sire to obey her Saviour's last command, and to com 
 memorate his dying -love. 
 
 "I fear," said Horace, gravely, "if you make a 
 profession of religion at present, you will have to do 
 it in direct opposition to your fathers commands. In 
 this case I cannot advise you ; your own heart must 
 judge." 
 
 The^ next morning, Mr. Fearing wrote that his 
 mother was convalescent, but wished him to remain
 
 72 JULIETTE. 
 
 another day. Ho added, that he would be in New 
 York in time to accompany his daughter to the theatre 
 on the following evening, when a celebrated actor was 
 to appear for the last time. 
 
 The color faded from Juliette's cheeks and lips. 
 "This will be my hour of trial," was her silent ejacu 
 lation. 
 
 In the course of the day, Horace received a letter 
 from his uncle, begging him to execute some commis 
 sions with reference to their anticipated voyage. The 
 Baltic was to sail the next day. The young man was, 
 therefore, very busy in his preparations ; and his sis 
 ter, though with a sad weight on her heart, determined 
 not to add to his cares by repeating her own. As ho 
 had for some time been expecting to leave the country, 
 
 he had lately been to H to bid his friends adieu, 
 
 and now he only regretted leaving without seeing his 
 father once more. As the vessel was often delayed 
 for several hours, there was still hope that he would 
 arrive in time. 
 
 The last evening at home was a sad one, though, 
 could they have foreseen the events which would hap 
 pen before they met -again, it would have been far 
 more so. Horace promised to keep a journal of all 
 that would interest his sister, and copy it to send her, 
 while she assured him that much of her pleasure would 
 consist in answering his letters. 
 
 "And if anything unpleasant should occur," he ex 
 claimed, warmly grasping her hand, "I do not an 
 ticipate it, or I would not leave you, -r- but should
 
 JULIETTE. 73 
 
 trouble or adversity coine upon you, remember that I 
 have an ample fortune, independent of father, and 
 that it is my wish to share it with you." 
 
 "Thank you, dear brother," she responded, with a 
 sad smile; "but in that case, I trust I should need 
 nothing long." 
 
 He rose, saying, "You look weary, and I must be 
 up with the sun, so we had better retire early." 
 
 But Juliette hesitated before she bade him good-night. 
 There was one request she wished to make, but could 
 scarcely gather courage to do so. "Horace," she 
 began, "you have promised to pray for me; will you 
 pray with me once before you go?" 
 
 The color flew to his face, and then receded, leaving 
 him very pale. He walked across the library and back 
 to where she stood. "I cannot refuse," he answered 
 at length. " But, Juliette, I am just entering the 
 narrow path, and the forms of prayer are new to me." 
 
 " We used to kneel, and say f Our Father' together," 
 she answered, gazing affectionately in his face. 
 
 He led her to the sofa, "Our Father pities our weak 
 ness," he said, softly. They knelt side by side, while 
 he, in a humble, childlike manner, confessed their sins, 
 and besought pardon and peace through a crucified 
 Saviour. Every moment his soul warmed with in 
 creasing fervor, until his weeping companion was 
 borne on the wings of faith to the mercy-seat, the 
 great white throne, and the presence of the Eternal. 
 
 " O my brother ! " she cried, her countenance 
 beaming with a heavenly light, "what joys can be 
 
 7
 
 74 JULIETTE. 
 
 compared to these? Oh, pray often for me, while we 
 are separated ! God has sent an answer already, in 
 filling my soul with peace." 
 
 At an early hour the following day, the young man, 
 having sought Henry in his room, and w T ith difficulty 
 aroused him sufficiently to bid him farewell, ap 
 proached Juliette's boudoir for a similar purpose. 
 
 " It is necessary for me to be on board," he said; 
 " but in all probability the vessel will not sail until 
 afternoon, so that, in case father arrives, I hope he will 
 drive instantly to the wharf." He then held her for 
 one moment to his heart, and with a fervent " God 
 bless you, my own dear Juliette, and keep you in ail 
 your ways," he hurried down the stairs to hide the 
 emotion he could not suppress. 
 
 When he w r as gone, the poor girl no longer tried to 
 keep back her tears, and wept so long and bitterly 
 that she brought on a severe headache, and at last was 
 obliged to return to her couch. Toward noon the 
 voice of her father aroused her, and she tried to rise 
 to meet him, but fell back, faint and trembling, upon 
 the pillow. She heard Eliza telling him that she was 
 ill, and rang her bell hastily, to say she wished to see 
 him. 
 
 " Horace has gone ! " she exclaimed, pressing her 
 hands to her throbbing temples. "He wants you to 
 drive directly to the wharf. If you go at once, I 
 think you will see him. He could not endure the 
 thought of leaving the country without bidding you 
 farewell."
 
 JULIETTE. 75 
 
 ^Vaiting only long enough to bid her summon their 
 family ph} : sician, unless she were soon relieved, he 
 hastened away, saying that he should probably go out 
 into the channel with the vessel, and return in the 
 pilot's boat.
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 11 He withers at his heart, and looks as wan 
 As the pale spectre of a murdered man." 
 
 IN" the mean time, Juliette lay upon her couch, en 
 deavoring to fortify her mind for the trial before 
 her. She had not lived four months with her father 
 without learning something of his bitter prejudices 
 against those who professed to be governed by the law 
 of Christ. She had heard from Horace something of 
 the trial his mother had endured in consequence of it ; 
 and she could not suppose that he would be more leni 
 ent with her. 
 
 Mr. Fearing was, as we have seen, a man of gener 
 ous, noble impulses, but extremely passionate, and 
 with an iron will. His daughter hoped that at this 
 time his heart would be softened by the recent illness 
 of his mother, and also by the parting from one whom 
 he loved as an own son. She prayed- that he, "in 
 whose hands are the hearts of all men," would turn 
 his heart toward her, so that he would allow her to 
 serve God according to the dictates of her own con 
 science. 
 
 Hour after hour wore away, and still he did not re 
 turn. The dinner-bell rang ; but no one appeared in 
 
 76
 
 JULIETTE. 77 
 
 answer to its summons. The terrible excitement was 
 wearing upon poor Juliette. In vain she tried to still 
 her wildly-beating heart, or by powerful opiates obtain 
 the repose she so much needed. Her temples beat 
 and throbbed, her lips grew dry and parched, while 
 her eyeballs burned like fire. For some weeks she 
 had acknowledged to herself an increasing lassitude ; 
 but since the day she visited the cemetery it had re 
 quired constant exertion to appear as usual. 
 
 At last she was compelled to allow Eliza to send for 
 
 Doctor M . She found difficulty in connecting her 
 
 thoughts, and feared she were about to die, without 
 having confessed herself to be Christ's. 
 
 At length the doctor came, and in a few moments 
 her father followed him into her room. 
 
 The noise roused her from an unrefreshing nap, and 
 for an instant she was confused, and did not recognize 
 them, but soon began to talk incoherently of Horace, 
 and "the great work I have to do." 
 
 Mr. Fearing bent over her in agony. For two days 
 he had been suffering keenly in consequence of a 
 stormy interview with Henry ; and now was this dear 
 child, who had so warmly returned his affection, to be 
 taken from him? 
 
 Juliette gazed earnestly in his face, and then sud- 
 nenly clasped her arms around his neck. " O father, 
 do let me love you ! If you do not, it will break my 
 heart. I will be a good daughter ; I will do all you 
 wish. Father, father, I will be your nurse, your com 
 panion, and never, never leave you." 
 
 7*
 
 78 JULIETTE. 
 
 "This is terrible ! " exclaimed the poor man, starting 
 from the bed. 
 
 " There is a high state of mental excitement," re 
 marked the physician, in a low tone. "I shall be 
 obliged to adopt powerful measures to prevent con 
 gestion of the brain." 
 
 "I know of no cause to produce excitement," re 
 turned Mr. Fearing, hoarsely, " unless it be that her 
 brother has to-day sailed for Europe." 
 
 "Father! father!" again screamed Juliette, en 
 deavoring to spring from the bed, "for my mother's 
 sake, don't say so ! Do love your poor girl ! " 
 
 "My dearest child," cried Mr. Fearing, soothingly, 
 "you are all the world to me. For your own sake, 
 my darling child, I will love you. Oh, why do you 
 utter such heart-rending words ! " 
 
 His voice seemed to recall her to herself, for she 
 drew his face down to hers for a kiss. "I do love 
 you, dear father," she said, softly. "When I am gone 
 I want you to remember that I did." 
 
 "But you shall not die!" he exclaimed, starting 
 from her almost fiercely. " I cannot give you up." 
 
 Doctor M took him by the hand, and firmly led 
 
 him from the room, saying, " I will not be answerable 
 for the consequences, if you remain. She must be 
 kept perfectly quiet, and have the most careful atten 
 tion, in order to save her life. I wish it were an hour 
 earlier, that the street might be covered with tan. I 
 shall be obliged to apply ice to the head, and then
 
 JULIETTE. 79 
 
 shall leave only long enough to find an experienced 
 nurse to remain with her." 
 
 Mr. Fearing caught his hat, and hastily left the 
 house. An hour later, when the physician returned, 
 bringing with him a nurse on whom he could rely to 
 carry out his directions, he found laborers commenc 
 ing their work upon the street. " Money is all-power 
 ful," was his quiet remark to his companion. 
 
 "Except to purchase life," was her terse reply. 
 
 Within the elegant mansion, the servants were run 
 ning to and fro, eager to learn what hope could be en 
 tertained for their dear young mistress ; for Juliette, 
 by her kind consideration for their comfort, her sweet, 
 unassuming exercise of authority, had endeared her 
 self to every one of the household. 
 
 The almost distracted father alternately locked him 
 self in the library, struggling to resist the decree of 
 the Almighty, which he feared had gone forth against 
 him ; and then, unable longer to endure the suspense, 
 rushing to the door of her chamber, where his heart 
 was torn by her incoherent cries, "O my father! 
 my dear father ! " 
 
 Coming out of the chamber, after repeated attempts 
 to soothe her, the physician found Mr. Fearing stand 
 ing near the door, his hands pressed wildly upon his 
 
 head. Dr. M led him, passive as a child, to the 
 
 libraiy. "What does this mean?" he asked, abruptly, 
 "this constant, heart-rending cry for your affection? 
 ' Father, don't turn me away. Father, do let me love 
 you, and be a good daughter to you ! ' "
 
 80 JULIETTE. 
 
 w They are the ravings of insanity ! " cried the ex 
 cited father. " From the hour she came home, more 
 than four months since, she has never known a wish 
 ungratified. She has repeatedly assured me that I 
 should spoil her with indulgence." 
 
 "You said you knew no cause of excitement, unless 
 it were the departure of Mr. Everett. Am I to un 
 derstand that there is a mutual affection between 
 them?" 
 
 Mr. Fearing started, and fixed his keen, penetrating 
 eyes on the doctor's face. One reminiscence after an 
 other flashed through his mind, to prove that it might 
 be so ; and yet, strange to say, their intimacy from 
 childhood, their language toward each other as brother 
 and sister, had heretofore prevented the idea from once 
 entering his heart. 
 
 "It may be so," he said, half aloud, in an abstracted 
 manner ; " yet the thought never occurred to me. But 
 why did not Horace ask my consent ? As there is no 
 blood relation, I would choose him for a son before 
 any other. Yet, if such were the fact, he would 
 scarcely have left her. It is all dark and mysterious." 
 
 The physician sat down and leaned his head on his 
 hand. "I ought not to conceal from you," he began, 
 after a brief pause, " that your daughter is in immi 
 nent danger. The cause, whatever it may be, has 
 been for some time affecting her system. As soon as 
 the fever leaves her, she may sink from utter prostra 
 tion. I see that her form is exceedingly thin and frail.
 
 JULIETTE. 81 
 
 The danger is that there is not enough vitality to with 
 stand the shock of such an attack." 
 
 Mr. Fearing stood gazing earnestly at the counte 
 nance of the speaker, the muscles of his face working 
 convulsively to conceal the effect these words were 
 producing ; then with a deep groan he turned to the 
 other end of the apartment. 
 
 Dr. M rose to return to the chamber. "As 
 
 early as possible," he said, "I shall call in Dr. I 
 
 aud Dr. P , as consulting physicians. It is not 
 
 my way to deceive friends by concealing the real dan 
 ger of the sufferer ; but be assured, no means shall be 
 spared to save the life of your child." 
 
 The poor father wrung his hands in silence. He 
 followed the doctor to the door of the sick-room, 
 where the patient, exhausted by her loud screams, and 
 partly under the influence of narcotics, only muttered 
 to herself at intervals ; the names of " father, dear 
 father," and " Horace," being alternately upon her 
 
 lips. As her eyes remained closed, Dr. M , in. 
 
 reply to the agonizing gaze of the father, led him to 
 the couch. Juliette's beautiful tresses had been cut 
 within an inch or two of her head. In their stead, a 
 bag containing pieces of ice was held in its place by 
 Eliza, while the nurse moved here and there in accord 
 ance with the directions of the physician. 
 
 Eliza's face was very pale, and she with difficulty 
 restrained her tears at the oft-repeated words, uttered 
 in. a low and mournfully earnest tone, "Father, I will,
 
 82 JULIETTE. 
 
 only let me love you. Horace, you promised, wher 
 ever you were, to remember your poor sister." 
 
 He could endure no more, but darted from the 
 room, just as Henry, with a loud bang, which brought 
 a scream from the poor sufferer, entered the outer 
 door. 
 
 For two days Mr. Fearing had not seen his son, and 
 then, after giving him a check for two thousand dol 
 lars, parted from him in terrible anger. Now, the 
 youth, more than half intoxicated, was effectually 
 roused by seeing the house, usually at this hour so 
 quiet, in a blaze of light, while persons were hasten 
 ing up and down the lofty flights of stairs. 
 
 Darting hastily forward, Mr. Fearing arrested his 
 son's steps as they were on the staircase, and led him 
 unresisting to the library. 
 
 "Am I awake?" exclaimed Henry, in a confused 
 manner, rubbing his head. 
 
 A look of contempt passed over the father's face as 
 he gazed upon his son. 
 
 "It is time you were awake," he began, in a hoarse, 
 constrained voice, "for when to-morrow's sun rises, 
 your only sister may be sleeping her last long sleep." 
 
 Henry started, and fell back upon the sofa, express 
 ing his surprise by an oath. 
 
 Mr. Fearing was only restrained from a torrent of 
 abuse at his ill-timed words by the expression of real 
 distress upon his son's blanched countenance. 
 
 "Go to bed, sir," he said, sternly; "you are dead 
 to all sense of decency."
 
 JULIETTE. 83 
 
 "Can't I see her?" faltered the young man, rising 
 and approaching his father. " Oh, can't I see her once 
 more ? " 
 
 Mr. Fearing waved him off. This question, oh, 
 what a dagger to his heart ! " See her once more." 
 Alas ! how little, after all, he had realized that soon ho 
 might be called to part with her forever. 
 
 Henry left the room unnoticed, and stole softly up 
 the stairs. The chamber-girl was just carrying in a 
 fresh supply of ice, and he, trembling in every limb, 
 followed her. Juliette had fallen into a troubled 
 sleep, and her attendants, scarcely daring to draw a 
 breath, stood around her. Dr. M , who was re 
 clining on a lounge in the apartment, put his fingers 
 on his lips as a caution to Henry, who arrested his 
 steps without daring to approach the bed. 
 
 Oh, what thoughts of death and of the eternity that 
 would follow, rushed into his mind as he stood gazing 
 on the pallid countenance before him ! How her 
 whispered remonstrances respecting the course he was 
 pursuing, pierced him like a dagger, as he realized 
 that he might never again hear her voice ! " Dear 
 brother," she had said, one day, when, after a fit of 
 intoxication, he was cursing himself and his boon com 
 panions, "Dear brother, our mother taught us there 
 is a world beyond this." 
 
 How quickly that beautiful countenance had been 
 changed ! Those rich, brown locks, of whose beauty 
 he had boasted over the wine-cup, where were they? 
 Those lustrous eyes, which ever beamed upon him
 
 84 JULIETTE. 
 
 with sisterly affection, closed, perhaps forever ! That 
 form, graceful in its symmetrical proportions, must 
 that be laid in the grave for worms to feast upon? 
 Horrid thoughts ! How could he endure them? All 
 that was good and tender in the brother's heart was 
 aroused by the sight before him. He turned silently 
 and left the apartment. Again he sought the library ; 
 for in his distress he must have sympathy. The door 
 was locked ; but on hearing the handle turn, Mr. Fear 
 ing quickly opened it. His face was haggard, while 
 his large, piercing eyes seemed to protrude from their 
 sockets. 
 
 Henry burst into tears. "Is there no hope?" he 
 asked. " Can nothing be done ? "
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " A beam of comfort, like the moon through clouds, 
 Gilds the black horror, and doth soothe his heart." 
 
 THE consulting physicians approved the course 
 pursued by Dr. M , and recommended a 
 
 continuance of the same powerful measures. They 
 agreed in supposing this not to be so sudden an attack 
 as it at first appeared ; but that the patient had for 
 some time been laboring under unnatural excitement. 
 From Eliza, Dr. M learned that her young mis 
 tress was often found in tears in her own apartment ; 
 and, also, that since the morning her father left for 
 
 H , when she visited the cemetery with Mr. 
 
 Everett, she had complained of not being well. 
 
 That some of her distress was connected with Hor 
 ace, they could not doubt ; but what could be the 
 cause of this distress, her father could not even sus 
 pect. 
 
 In his severe self-conflicts, Mr. Fearing did indeed 
 blame himself that he had been so. blind, and keenly 
 regretted that he had so often imposed his confidence 
 upon the young man in regard to his wishes for his 
 
 daughter. 
 
 85
 
 86 JULIETTE. 
 
 lie now recollected, what had never struck him 
 before, that Horace was always silent at these confi 
 dential interviews, or had merely said, he had no 
 doubt his sister's pure heart would guide her aright ; 
 that nothing would pain him more than to see her 
 united for life to a man whose character was not above 
 reproach, even though his fortune and rank were 
 princely. 
 
 It certainly would not be true to say that Mr. Fear- 
 ing's mind did not revert with the most painful solici 
 tude to the remark of Mrs. Osborn when they were 
 parting, "Not until you allow your daughter the free ex 
 ercise of her dearest hopes and wishes, will she be truly 
 happy." This, connected with the unwelcome state 
 ment that she was a humble Christian, caused a tumult 
 of emotion in the father's heart. He began to suspect 
 that after all this might be the cause of her sickness, 
 that secret conflicts had undermined her constitution 
 and prepared the way for the awful catastrophe he 
 now dreaded. "And all this time," he said to himself, 
 " she has given up her own desires, and tried to find 
 pleasure in acting according to my wishes." 
 
 In the near thought of death the vanities of the 
 world faded before him like the morning mist. Pie 
 almost persuaded himself that could he have her re 
 stored to health and strength, he would allow her "the 
 free exercise of her dearest hopes." 
 
 Strange to say, that even at this moment the im 
 pressions of his childhood were so strong upon him 
 (for he had always heard his father ridicule the dis-
 
 JULIETTE. 87 
 
 ciples of Christ) , and so wholly ignorant was he of the 
 claims of religion, or the joys of a true believer, that 
 the thought of his lovely daughter, heiress of his im 
 mense fortune, desiring nothing more than meekly to 
 follow her Saviour, was to him exceedingly bitter and 
 humiliating. In his inmost soul he denounced Mrs. 
 Osborn as a scheming fanatic, and his Juliette as her 
 too credulous follower. 
 
 The excitement of the night was followed in the 
 case of the poor sufferer by a stupor so profound that 
 it was only by her intermittent pulse the physician 
 could be sure she still lived. Dr. M , hastily de 
 spatching a note to a brother physician, gave himself 
 wholly to the work of watching his patient. 
 
 Eliza, when her services were not needed, sat weep 
 ing in the boudoir. The nurse, pale, but calm, went 
 quietly on in the performance of her duty, with an 
 occasional whispered remark to the waiting-woman, 
 that the crisis must come soon. Henry, at home, in 
 the full possession of his senses, wandered like a ghost 
 from room to room, in the vain attempt to shake off 
 this terrible weight at his heart ; while Mr. Fearing, 
 shutting himself into his library, endured the most 
 terrible conflicts in his impious endeavors to fight 
 against God. 
 
 Here, on the morning of the third day, Dr. M 
 
 sought him to communicate the first hopeful tidings it 
 had been in his power to convey : " The crisis has 
 passed, and my patient still lives."
 
 88 JULIETTE. 
 
 " God in heaven be praised ! " burst from the fa 
 ther's lips. 
 
 But did he really praise God, as he cautiously fol 
 lowed the footsteps of the good doctor to the room 
 above stairs? Did his heart go out in love toward 
 Him who had been better to him than his fears ? Alas, 
 no ! It was only lip-service while his heart was still 
 far from his Maker. 
 
 As he entered the chamber, a smile lit up the weary 
 face of the faithful Eliza. She pointed to the bed 
 where her beloved mistress lay, pale and wan indeed, 
 but her breast heaving softly in a natural, refreshing 
 sleep. For the first time tears filled his eyes : he drew 
 
 Dr. M into the boudoir, and, wringing his hands, 
 
 said hoarsely, "All I have can never repay you. 
 Your skill has saved her life." 
 
 "Not so," returned the good man, scarcely less af 
 fected. "Life and death are ordered by God ; lam 
 but a humble instrument to do his will." 
 
 He returned to the chamber to wet again the parched 
 lips of the prostrate sufferer. It scarcely roused her ; 
 and she soon fell back into the same tranquil slumber. 
 
 "Nature's sweet restorer," he murmured, with a 
 smile ; " that balmy sleep will do more for you than 
 any medicine." Then with minute directions to the 
 skilful nurse, he returned home to enjoy a brief hour 
 of repose before he entered once more upon the oner 
 ous duties of his profession. 
 
 No sooner was Juliette pronounced out of immediate 
 danger than her brother, with a great sigh of relief,
 
 JULIETTE. 89' 
 
 hastened from the house in search of some excitement. 
 His abstinence from wine and other intoxicating 
 liquors had given his eyes a wild glare, and there was 
 a continual gnawing at his vitals which must be al 
 layed. These three days and nights seemed like 
 weeks, so fraught had they been, not only with anxiety 
 for his sister, but with remorse at the course of dissi 
 pation he had been pursuing. 
 
 Mr. Fearing's heart began to swell with new hopes 
 
 from the moment Dr. M assured him his daughter 
 
 was convalescent. To be sure there might at any mo 
 ment be a relapse, if the cause, whatever it might be, 
 was not removed ; but hope had once more spread her 
 wings over him, and he trusted that all would be well. 
 He passed hours at a time in the sick-room, and minis 
 tered to the patient sufferer with so much tenderness, 
 that though at first his presence seemed to excite her, 
 connected as he appeared to be with some painful 
 associations, yet she always welcomed him with a 
 smile, and at length became uneasy when he was 
 away. 
 
 With a woman's skill he smoothed her pillow, 
 brushed the close, short curls from her pale brow, 
 read to her and related the on-dits of the day. Many 
 times, as her strength began to return, he resolved to 
 ask the cause of her sickness, but he as often restrained 
 himself. First, because the physician had expressly 
 cautioned him against any subject that would excite 
 the invalid, and because he had a secret fear that his 
 present happiness would be destroyed. 
 8*
 
 90 JULIETTE. 
 
 And what were Juliette's feelings at this precious 
 display of her father's affection? At first she knew 
 not how to interpret it ; but presently began to hope 
 that during the first hours of her sickness, she had 
 revealed to him the true state of her heart, and that he 
 thus meant to show her that he would yield his con 
 sent to her wishes. She was disappointed as day 
 after day passed, and he made no allusion to the sub 
 ject ; and was restrained only from introducing it her 
 self, by the fact of her extreme debility. 
 
 Without the knowledge the reader possesses of Mr. 
 Fearing's character, it might seem weak and childish 
 in Juliette to be so much in dread of his displeasure. 
 But we have nowhere intimated that she was firm, 
 independent, or courageous. In truth, she had 
 never outgrown or overcome this failing of her child 
 hood, but was constitutionally timid and distrustful of 
 herself. She yearned for a strong arm to support her, 
 a firm, self-reliant, God-fearing will to guide and di 
 rect her own. Now, as she lay on her couch or re 
 clined in a luxurious easy-chair gazing at her father as 
 he sat reading by her side, her pulse fluttered and her 
 heart beat painfully as she realized that his fond 
 affection might at any moment be turned to fierce 
 displeasure. " Surely, there can be no sin in post 
 poning the evil day as long as I may," she said to 
 herself one night after a vain straggle to banish the 
 subject from her thoughts. "When he commands me 
 to do something which my conscience disapproves, 
 that will be the time for me to confess all."
 
 JULIETTE. 91 
 
 This resolve was a weak oue, and wanting in child 
 like confidence in her heavenly Father's promise : 
 "They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Ziou, 
 which cannot be removed. He will not suffer thy foot 
 to be moved. The Lord is thy shade upon thy right 
 hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day nor the 
 moon by night. . The Lord shall preserve thee from all 
 evil. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy 
 coming in, from this time forth, and even forever 
 more." 
 
 From this hour Juliette abandoned herself to the 
 delight of being loved and petted. Every day she 
 twined herself more strongly about her father's heart. 
 As soon as she was able to be dressed, he began to 
 form plans for her happiness. Would she prefer to 
 live in the country ? He would purchase an estate on 
 the banks of the beautiful Hudson. Would she like 
 to travel? As soon as she were well, they would start 
 for Europe, surprise Horace and his party, and ac 
 company them to Italy. 
 
 The sick girl's eyes grew bright, and the rose-tint 
 beautified her pale face as these, the dearest dreams of 
 her childhood, seemed about to be realized. How ear 
 nestly she had talked with her school-mates of the de 
 lights of visiting the countries of which they then knew 
 little more than their place upon the map ! and now to 
 wander through the streets of Rome, to sail along the 
 shores of the Mediterranean ; more than all, to visit 
 the Holy Land in company with her brother Horace, 
 what on earth could she ask for more ?
 
 92 JULIETTE. 
 
 Mr. Fearing saw the bright blush of pleasure which 
 suffused her cheeks at the thought of joining Horace, 
 and his newly-awakened suspicions were more than 
 ever confirmed. "My daughter," he thought, "is not 
 one to give her affections unsought ; and yet, I cannot 
 call to mind one act of his which might not have oc 
 curred, had he been her own brother. 
 
 " Since they were children together in the nursery, 
 Juliette has always clung to Horace, though Henry was 
 nearer her own age, and, when separated after their 
 mother's decease, they kept up a close correspondence. 
 
 "But so it was," he soliloquized, in my own case. 
 " I cannot remember the time when I began to love 
 my own Juliette ; and this affection grew with my 
 growth, and strengthened with my strength, until she 
 seemed a part of my own being. I should be miser 
 able, indeed, if I thought that either of my dear chil 
 dren, for such I must ever regard Horace, would suffer 
 the keen pangs I endured when I found another claimed 
 one I considered all my own. I wish I had not been 
 so blind. Without the least sacrifice of my daughter's 
 delicacy, I might easily have ascertained whether Hor 
 ace regarded her with more than brotherly affection, 
 and if so, after a little delay, she could have accompa 
 nied him as his wife. Yes, he is the man I should 
 choose, above all others, as the husband of my daugh 
 ter. He is manly, upright, and generous. Then he is 
 the heir of his grandfather, which, with his own for 
 tune and Juliette's, would render them independent. 
 But, with such a character as his, were he not possessed
 
 JULIETTE. 93 
 
 of a copper, he is the son of my loved Juliette, and he 
 should have her for the asking. 
 
 "But supposing that he only loves her "with a calm, 
 brotherly affection, such as I have always supposed to 
 exist between them, it would be unwise to have her 
 thrown so constantly into his society, as she would be 
 were they travelling together."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Faith Is the subtle chain 
 That binds us to the infinite : the voice 
 Of a deep life within, that will remain 
 Unsullied there forever." 
 
 THE quiet of the sick-room now began to be enliv 
 ened by calls from intimate female friends, and 
 the constant succession of bouquets of rare exotics 
 from Juliette's numerous admirers. Spring was open 
 ing, and her father promised, as soon as Dr. M 
 
 thought it safe, to take her to H for a visit to 
 
 her grandmother. 
 
 One day, in his absence, the invalid was reclining in 
 an easy-chair, opposite the bright steel bars of the 
 grate glowing with the blazing fire of coal. The rich 
 folds of her cashmere dressing-gown swept the floor, 
 and her tiny foot, cased in an embroidered slipper, 
 peeped from its hiding-place when a lady was announced 
 who had been a friend of her own mother. Juliette 
 was delighted, and eagerly asked many questions con 
 cerning her early married life. The call was prolonged, 
 and at last was only ended by the lady's expressing 
 anxiety to hear a distinguished divine from abroad who 
 was to preach in their church this morning. 
 
 94
 
 JULIETTE. 95 
 
 w Oh, how I wish I could go ! " exclaimed the young 
 lady, her face beaming with excitement. 
 
 "Are you interested in such subjects, my dear?" 
 asked the visitor, warmly. 
 
 " More than in any other," was the meek reply. 
 
 The lady gazed for a moment upon the beautiful 
 face turned so wistfully to her own, looked at her 
 watch, and said, "The morning is tine. I will take 
 you there and bring you back in safety ; but perhaps 
 you are not strong enough." 
 
 "I fear father would object to my going to-day," 
 murmured Juliette, with a disappointed air; "as I 
 have not yet left my room ; but perhaps another time 
 you will repeat your offer. " 
 
 " Certainly, I will ; and not only that, but you must 
 let me love you, and claim an early visit from you, for 
 the sake of your mother." 
 
 The next day Dr. M told his patient that she 
 
 had no further need of his services, as with care and 
 prudence she would soon be well. "I suppose you 
 have scarcely heard from Mr. Everett, as yet," he 
 added, in an arch tone, which brought a rich color to 
 her lips. "I wonder he did not take you out with 
 him." 
 
 "Father intends to take me to Europe," replied 
 Juliette, dropping her eyes before his roguish glance. 
 
 " Well, Everett is a fine fellow. I have heard his 
 name in connection with that of Miss De Forest. Is 
 there any truth in the rumor ? "
 
 96 JULIETTE. 
 
 "I don't know, indeed. I have never heard him 
 speak of her." 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it," returned Dr. M , 
 
 satisfied by her meek, sad tone that his suspicions were 
 correct. "With such a mother as he had, I have no 
 idea that he will ever choose a city belle." 
 
 "I shall never forget your kindness, doctor," ex 
 claimed the young lady, her eyes glistening with tears. 
 " I am truly sorry to have you forsake me just as I can 
 enjoy your visits." 
 
 " One of the trials of my profession, child, and not 
 a small one, either." Then, warmly' grasping her 
 hand, he bade her adieu. 
 
 Juliette had rode out several times, and was begin 
 ning to count the days before she could leave for 
 
 H , when Henry was taken suddenly ill, and their 
 
 departure was indefinitely postponed. She had never 
 forgotten the promise of her mother's friend to take 
 her to church, and was delighted to accept an invita 
 tion to pass, a quiet day at her house, hoping to make 
 some definite arrrangement for hearing Mr. D . 
 
 Mrs. Ward Folsom stood high in society, and Mr. 
 Fearing was much pleased with her attention to his 
 daughter. He accompanied Juliette to her house, on 
 their way telling her Mrs. Folsom would be a valuable 
 friend. 
 
 The lady received her young guest warmly, and 
 invited her to her own room, where two lovely chil 
 dren soon engaged all her attention. After she had 
 amused herself with them for an hour, their mother
 
 JULIETTE. 97 
 
 summoned their nurse to take them to the Park ; and 
 then, turning to Juliette, said, kindly, "I have thought 
 much of you lately, my dear ; and I want you to tell 
 me frankly all about your love for religion ; for, if I do 
 not mistake, you have begun to follow Christ." 
 
 Juliette's heart swelled with gratitude at this speech. 
 She considered it in direct answer to her prayers, 
 that God had given her a Christian friend to counsel 
 her. " I shall truly be glad to do so," she exclaimed, 
 earnestly. "You cannot tell how I have longed for 
 such a friend." 
 
 She then unburdened her whole heart to her com 
 panion, the trembling hopes she entertained that she 
 was accepted of Christ, the sorrow that she was so 
 unworthy of him, and the struggles for courage to con 
 fess him before men. 
 
 "You attend Dr. A 's church, I think," remarked 
 
 Mrs. Folsom, much moved at this frank, artless ac 
 count. 
 
 "Yes ; father has always attended there ; that is, he 
 considers it his place of worship. He seldom goes 
 himself;" and Juliette blushed deeply. 
 
 "Are you at all acquainted with the doctor?" 
 
 "I have never seen him, except in the pulpit." 
 
 "Suppose I order the carriage, and take you there. 
 I am well acquainted with him, and will assume the 
 whole responsibility of the call." 
 
 "I should enjoy it exceedingly ; but " and tears 
 filled her eyes. 
 
 "Will you forgive me, my dear, if I tell you that I 
 9
 
 98 JULIETTE. 
 
 think you wanting in that Christian boldness which 
 David manifested when he said, ' The Lord is on my 
 side. I will not fear ; what can man do unto me? ' " . 
 
 " I will go with you at once, if you think it best," 
 said Juliette, smiling through her tears ; " but, indeed, 
 I have a poor, trembling heart." 
 
 "When they were seated in the carriage, the lady 
 took the hand of her young friend, as she repeated the 
 promise, "Thou shalt keep him in perfect peace whose 
 mind is stayed on thee." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed . Juliette ; "while I was sick, I 
 fully realized the blessedness of that precious verse ; 
 but of late it has been much easier for me to dwell 
 upon another : ' We must through much tribulation 
 enter the kingdom of heaven.' I don't know but it is 
 wrong," she added, after a short pause ; " but I am 
 very much given to castle-building ; and I persevere 
 in it, though one after another of my lofty structures 
 falls to the ground. I have often imagined that father 
 lost all his property, and we lived in a little cottage in 
 the country, with no other ornaments except the pretty 
 vines I trained to run over the porch. I worked hard 
 all day, for we kept no servant ; but my heart was 
 light, and I went singing about the house. Father at 
 first was melancholy ; but I cheered him. I had my 
 harp, and I sang him songs that he loved ; but, better 
 than all the rest, at last he let me read the Bible to 
 him. Oh, I was happy then ! " and her face glowed 
 with animation. 
 
 Mrs. Folsom leaned forward and kissed her tenderly.
 
 JULIETTE. 99 
 
 Every moment her heart was more drawn out toward 
 the lovely girl. "I see, my dear," she said, kindly, 
 "that you have trials, and I more than suspect the 
 nature of them from some rumors about your step 
 mother's last days. It was said she wished to unite 
 with Christ's people, but was deterred by her husband. 
 Some time you must tell me all you think proper. It 
 is not from curiosity I ask it, but that I may know 
 how to advise you." 
 
 "I don't think father would ever consent that I 
 should make a profession of religion," faltered Juli 
 ette, with a burning cheek. 
 
 "And you think it your duty to do so. Is that it, 
 my dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; I can't forget that it was our Saviour's 
 last command, made just before he offered up his life for 
 me. I know I never can expect God's blessing until 
 I obey. But then I often tremble, I am so unworthy. 
 You know what a terrible curse is pronounced upon 
 those who do not approach the table of their Lord in 
 faith and true love to him." 
 
 " If you are willing, my dear, I should like to state 
 your case to your good pastor. He will treat you with 
 the tenderness of a father." 
 
 Juliette hesitated a moment, and then said, " Thank 
 you. I should like it if you think best." 
 
 "But your own heart must judge, after all. No one 
 can decide a case of conscience for you." 
 
 " So my brother Horace said." 
 
 The coachman at this moment drew up at the door
 
 100 JULIETTE. 
 
 of the pastor's house, and, after ascertaining that he 
 was in his study, they alighted and were shown within. 
 The old gentleman treated them so cordially, that Ju 
 liette soon felt acquainted, and, without at all being 
 conscious of it, let him into all the secrets of her 
 heart. ' When they left, after an hour's interview, she 
 was more than ever strengthened in her resolve to be 
 joined to the people of God, by a passage he repeated, 
 and which continually recurred to her mind : " Heirs 
 of God and joint heirs with Christ, if so be that ye 
 suffer with him, that ye also may be glorified together." 
 
 "What a fine thing it is thought to be," she said to 
 Mrs. Folsom, "to be heiress to a great fortune! I 
 have often heard it whispered in a ballroom, 'There 
 is Miss Fearing ; she is a great heiress.' But how 
 mean compared to being an heir of God, a joint heir 
 with Christ to the riches of the heavenly inheritance ! " 
 
 Henry Fearing 's illness was caused by the excessive 
 use of ardent spirits. It was followed by a slight 
 
 attack of mania a potu. Dr. M assured not 
 
 only Mr. Fearing, but the patient himself, that unless 
 he abandoned the use of spirituous liquors, his health 
 would be wholly destroyed. For a few weeks the 
 young man remembered the warning; but after that 
 his gay companions gathered around him, and drew 
 him back into their charmed circle. They could not 
 afford to lose from their clubs one who spent his 
 money so profusely for the gratification of their de 
 praved appetites. 
 
 Mr. Fearing often spoke of leaving the country, but
 
 JULIETTE. 101 
 
 disliked to do so while his mother continued as feeble 
 as she was at present. In the mean time he received 
 a letter from Horace, enclosing one also for his daugh 
 ter. This he delivered her with so marked an empha 
 sis on the words, "A precious epistle for you, Juli 
 ette," that she quickly left the room to hide her con 
 fusion. 
 
 When in her own apartment she took herself se 
 verely to task for her emotion. " What will father 
 think ? " she asked. * ; I'm sure I don't at all understand 
 why I should blush so at the mention of my brother's 
 name. Horace is nothing more than a dear, very 
 dear brother to me. It must have been father's man 
 ner that embarrassed me so." "But still," whispered 
 a soft voice, "you were greatly pained at the thought 
 of his being interested in Miss De Forest." " Cer 
 tainly, because I should be sorry to see him united 
 to any mere belle. He ought to have a Christian 
 wife." 
 
 All these thoughts flashed through her mind while 
 she locked the door of her chamber, drew a chair near 
 the window, and tore open the envelope. Though it is 
 hardly civil to read a confidential letter, yet we give it 
 as follows : 
 
 "I should never have had courage, my sweet sister, 
 to have left home, had I realized what a pang it would 
 have cost me at the last moment to tear myself away. 
 I suppose father told you how comfortably we were 
 situated in our cabins, and how many books my uncle 
 9*
 
 102 JULIETTE. 
 
 had provided for the voyage ; and so I will pass on to 
 other things. My aunt is just such a woman as you 
 would love ; and she so won upon my confidence that 
 before we were half the way to Havre, I had told her 
 not only the sweet hopes that fill my heart, but re 
 lated your history, too ; I mean that part of it which 
 referred to your religious experience. She feels 
 strongly interested in you, and said, only yester 
 day, 'How I wish, Horace, we had persuaded Mr. 
 Fearing to trust his daughter with us for a tour 
 through Europe ! ' 
 
 " I need not tell you how warmly my heart responded 
 to this wish. I was homesick all the rest of the day. 
 Would you have come, dear Juliette? 
 
 "Do you remember the subject of our conversation 
 on the day we visited our mothers' graves ? You ex 
 pressed a wish to unite with the church, and I feared 
 to advise you. Mrs. Everett said you were right, 
 and I wrong. I acknowledge this has been true many 
 times. She says, 'It is plainly your duty as well as 
 your privilege to take a stand with the people of God, 
 and claim the blessing he has promised those who thus 
 honor him.' I would I were with you to stand by 
 your side on this most solemn occasion. I shall be 
 with you ill spirit, and shall pray that He who orders 
 all events, may make this the means of dear father's 
 conversion. I feel condemned that I have had so lit 
 tle faith that God would touch his heart. I have 
 indeed prayed for it, but with a secret feeling that it 
 was too much to expect. Now I mean to wrestle for
 
 JULIETTE. 103. 
 
 him as Jacob did, and say to the angel of the cov 
 enant, 'I will not let thee go until thou bless me.' I 
 have fully determined to unite myself with the English 
 Church at Havre, over which one of our own country 
 men is settled. Pray for me, Juliette, that I may not 
 be deceiving myself. 
 
 "Before I close, dear sister, I must ask you to for 
 give me for what I said to you at the cemetery. How 
 could I have censured you for pursuing the same 
 course as I myself was pursuing ? I confess with 
 shame that I was in part actuated by other motives, 
 which I did not think it best to confide to you at that 
 time. You have ever looked with a sister's leniency 
 upon my faults, so I will persuade myself that you 
 will do it again, though I fancied that you were unusu 
 ally grave and reserved for a day or two before I left. 
 When I return I will lay open my whole heart before 
 you ; then perhaps you will not blame me for my 
 many apparent inconsistencies. I shall send my jour 
 nal to this date in the next vessel ; and shall scarcely 
 dare impose another long epistle upon you, unless I 
 receive one of equal length. 
 
 " YOUR BROTHER HORACE." 
 
 Two hours after the reception of this letter, Juliette 
 ordered her own carriage, and went to make another 
 call upon her pastor. Dismissing Peter, she deter 
 mined to delay no longer, but make known her request 
 to be admitted to his church. It was a deeply inter 
 esting hour to her, as she stated to him the grounds
 
 104 JULIETTE. 
 
 of her hope that she was accepted of Christ, and an 
 swered his heart-searching question-s concerning her 
 repentance, faith, and love. It was three weeks be 
 fore she would be called to make her profession of 
 faith in public. In the mean time she must confess to 
 her father what she was about to do.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Blessed are ye when men shall separate you from their company, and shall 
 reproach you, and cast out your name as evil, for the Son of Man's sake." 
 
 THE next evening it so happened that Mr. Fear 
 ing, who had passed many nights in the care of 
 his son, was afflicted with a severe headache. Juliette 
 found him reclining on the lounge in the library, and 
 sought, with all a daughter's tenderness, to do some 
 thing for his relief. 
 
 Henry, during his convalescence, was extremely 
 irritable and difficult to please ; so much so that the 
 servants complained that they must leave. His father 
 was the only one who could control him. He had for 
 bidden Juliette remaining in her brother's room. 
 
 At an early hour, and just as the loving daughter 
 was persuading her father to retire, Henry, who, con 
 trary to his father's wishes, had left the house, returned 
 home evidently much intoxicated. 
 
 Mr. Fearing was justly displeased; but Juliette 
 looked so frightened, that he merely rang the bell, and 
 ordered that Rufus be sent to assist his young master 
 to bed, deferring his remonstrance until another time. 
 He lay down upon the sofa again, and, with a heavy 
 
 105
 
 106 JULIETTE. 
 
 sigh, exclaimed, "That boy will ruin himself and 
 break my heart ! " 
 
 Juliette said all she could think of to soothe him ; 
 ran to her room for her vinaigrette, and was so anxious 
 to please him, that he endeavored to throw off his 
 forebodings of evil for his son, and show her that he 
 appreciated her affection. They talked a long time 
 of Horace, of his love for his beautiful mother, of the 
 length of time before he would return, until Juliette 
 thought he had never been so tender before. " Why," 
 she thought, " shall I not improve this opportunity, 
 and unburden my heart of this secret, which weighs 
 so heavily upon it?" With a silent prayer for strength 
 and wisdom to guide her, she took advantage of a 
 brief pause to say, "Father, are you well enough for 
 me to tell you something ? " 
 
 He started up, fixed his penetrating eyes on her face, 
 as he signified his assent. 
 
 "I have wanted to tell you for a long, long time," 
 she went on, lifting his hand to her lips, " but I have 
 delayed because because I feared that you would be 
 displeased." She trembled a little at his searching 
 look, but added, softly, "Shall I tell you now, 
 father?" 
 
 Again he answered only by a bow. 
 
 She stood up, and wound her arm around his neck, 
 as she murmured, "I love my Saviour, and have 
 promised to confess him before the world." 
 
 "Never, with my consent," he shouted, throwing 
 from him.
 
 JULIETTE. 107 
 
 W O father, father! " she cried, falling at his feet, 
 "don't say that. I have prayed and longed for you to 
 be willing. I will be a good daughter to you, I love 
 you so dearly ; but I cannot disobey my God." 
 
 "Who has dared to counsel you in this? Speak, 
 child ! I know you would never have gone into such 
 mad folly if you had been left to yourself." 
 
 "It was the Bible and my own conscience, father. 
 I dare not act contrary to the word of God. My Sa 
 viour says, 'Do this in remembrance of me.'" 
 
 "Juliette !" cried Mr. Fearing, and his voice shook 
 with anger, "I have cursed Mrs. Osborn for daring to 
 impose her mad fanaticism upon you. Do not let me 
 curse you. But no," he added, Avith a mighty effort 
 controlling his passion ; " my daughter will not thus 
 return my lavish affection. Give up these foolish 
 notions, and I will forgive all." 
 
 "O father!" exclaimed Juliette, with a burst of 
 tears, " ask me anything but that. I cannot, I ought 
 not to sacrifice my own soul. I can die, father, but I 
 cannot live as I have done, denying my Saviour." 
 
 With a terrible oath, the infuriated father began to 
 curse his daughter; but, interrupting himself, cried 
 out, "Leave me ; but remember I will hear no more 
 of this ! You must and shall obey me ! Oh, what a 
 curse is an ungrateful child ! And to think till within 
 an hour I had been deceiving m} r self with the idea that 
 my daughter, my only daughter, loved me, and was 
 obedient to my wishes." 
 
 Poor Juliette sobbed as if her heart would break.
 
 108 JULIETTE. 
 
 i 
 
 She approached her father, and would have kissed 
 him, but he haughtily waved her away. "No," he 
 exclaimed, " not until you promise to give up forever 
 your absurd, insane idea of obtaining notoriety by the 
 course you mention, will I accept your caresses. Go, 
 child, before I shower curses on your head ; and re 
 member that you have caused your father a sleepless 
 night." He groaned aloud, but, at a fierce gesture, 
 his weeping daughter desisted from urging him, and 
 turned in sorrow from the room. 
 
 Hurrying through her toilet, she evaded Eliza's anx 
 ious inquiries, and, dismissing her from the chamber, 
 sought relief in prayer. Notwithstanding her deep 
 distress at her father's conduct, her heart was more at 
 rest than it had been for months. " I have done my 
 duty," she exclaimed, with streaming eyes. "I have 
 sacrificed my father's affection to my love for my Sav 
 iour, and still I can say, 'Though he slay me, yet 
 will I trust him.' " 
 
 It would be difficult to describe the tumult that 
 raged in Mr. Fearing's breast after his daughter left 
 him. As I said in the commencement of this chapter, 
 the conduct of his son had given him , great anxiety. 
 He could not understand why Henry, situated similarly 
 to himself at the same age, could not resist the temp 
 tations by which he was surrounded, why the gam 
 bling-saloons, and all the haunts of iniquity, from which 
 he had shrunk with contempt and loathing, should lead 
 another captive at their will. Within a few weeks he 
 had paid large sums to redeem Henry's debts of honor,
 
 JULIETTE. 109 
 
 as he falsely termed them, and his headache on the 
 present occasion arose mainly in consequence of a 
 stormy interview with his son, in which he positively 
 refused to advance another dollar for such a purpose. 
 He tried, as we have seen, to shake off the thought 
 of his son, and enjoy the affectionate care of his 
 daughter. If she had only then been aware of it, 
 she could scarcely have chosen a more unfavorable 
 opportunity for her confession. After she left him, 
 he strode fiercely across the spacious apartment, almost 
 ready to curse the day he was born. "Who can it 
 be," he asked himself again and again, "that has 
 dared to influence my child to an act like this? A 
 profession of religion, indeed ! As if I would allow a 
 daughter of mine to go before a public assembly to 
 proclaim herself a sinner, and all that sort of foolery ! 
 Pshaw ! Keligion is only a sham. In all my experi 
 ence, there are no greater cheats, none who are so 
 ready to take advantage of their fellows, as these same 
 fanatics in religion. As I have often heard my father 
 say, they will pray in the corners of the streets if men 
 will be fools enough to listen ; they will talk long and 
 loud of their piety, their benevolence, their purity ; and 
 yet no greater scamps can be found on the face of the 
 earth. Religion is a cloak to hide their enormities. I 
 see it all now. Mrs. Osborn (how I have been deceived 
 in her !) persuaded my poor, timid Juliette into embrac 
 ing her views, thinking that she would thus induce me to 
 leave her longer under her care. I am sure, if she had 
 been left alone, she would have been a child after my 
 10
 
 110 JULIETTE. 
 
 own heart. I don't know that I should object to the 
 lady trying her power with Henry. A little sobering 
 of his senses would not hurt him at present. But 
 Juliette!" 
 
 Mr. Fearing, like many others, considered a certain 
 degree of religion as adding to his respectability, but 
 greatly deprecated the idea of being considered right 
 eous overmuch. 
 
 Here the father's feelings began to soften, as he re 
 called all his daughter's acts of dutiful affection. The 
 agony he had experienced during her recent sickness 
 flashed upon his memory, and he sighed heavily as he 
 said, half-aloud, "If I violently oppose her wishes in 
 this respect, she may be taken from me. Poor little 
 thing ! I wonder what she \frould say if I were to give 
 my consent after all. I can conceive just ho\v her eyes 
 would beam with pleasure, and how earnestly she would 
 say, 'Dear father, I will be such a loving daughter to 
 you that you will never regret this kindness.' Fool 
 ish and absurd as I consider her, I have no doubt she 
 attaches the utmost consequence to this public profes 
 sion, as she calls it. 'Ask me to do anything but that,' 
 she said; 'I can die; but I can't deny my Saviour.' 
 Well, I really did not believe she had so much spunk ; 
 but let women alone where their will is concerned. 
 Some are just as strenuous about a new set of jewelry, 
 a fashionable hat, or new style of cloak, whatever it 
 may be ; if you oppose them, the cry is, 'Anything but 
 that.' " 
 
 At a late hour he retired to his couch, which, as he
 
 JULIETTE. Ill 
 
 had anticipated, was a sleepless one. The great question 
 to be decided was this : "Shall I yield my wishes, or 
 require her to do so ? " Many times her amiable tem 
 per, her sweet, winning manners, her frank, artless af 
 fection for him, almost determined him to offer no ob 
 stacle, if she still persisted in thinking it a duty to pro 
 fess Christ. But that iron will which had seldom been 
 successfully opposed, how could it yield now, and to a 
 mere child ? When the morning dawned he had deter 
 mined upon his course, which we shall learn from the 
 events that followed.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 "Walk 
 
 Boldly and wisely in the light thou hast : 
 There is a hand above will help thee on." 
 
 JULIETTE, whose pillow had been wet with her 
 tears, arose early, and passed more than her usual 
 time in private devotion. She truly felt the need of 
 an Almighty arm to support her in this hour of distress. 
 Eliza begged her to return to bed, and allow her to 
 bring a cup of chocolate to the chamber ; but she de 
 clined, though she actually started when she caught a 
 glimpse of her pale, haggard face in the mirror. 
 
 When she entered the breakfast-room she found her 
 father there, engaged in reading a hasty note from 
 H - , informing him of his mother's relapse, and re 
 questing him to come to her without delay. 
 
 He started up when his daughter entered, and gave 
 her the note to read ; then led Her to the table, evi 
 dently pained by the marks her countenance bore of 
 her late excitement. 
 
 "I should like to go with you," she said, raising her 
 eyes timidly to his. 
 
 "It will depend wholly on yourself whether you do 
 so," he answered, impressively, with a glance at the 
 
 112
 
 JULIETTE. 113 
 
 attendants. "I will talk with you on the subject after 
 breakfast." 
 
 * 
 
 After this, she could scarcely do more than to raise 
 the cup to her lip. "With all her soul she shrank from 
 another encounter like that of the preceding night. 
 When the mere form of eating was concluded, Mr. 
 Fearing said, "Will you come to the library for a few 
 minutes?" She followed him in silence, her heart 
 sending up a prayer to God for help to be faithful to 
 him. 
 
 He drew a chair for her near the table, and, avoid 
 ing her eye, said, "As you may well suppose, my 
 daughter, your sudden and unexpected avowal last 
 night caused me the keenest regret and displeasure. 
 Probably I was too harsh in my expression of it, and 
 I have asked you here that we may have a calm and 
 dispassionate conversation on the subject." 
 
 Juliette's countenance brightened, and, looking at him 
 affectionately, she said, "Thank you, sir; that is what 
 I should like." She then, at his request, gave him a 
 brief account of her wishes, the length of time she had 
 entertained them, and the means she had adopted for 
 their accomplishment, carefully avoiding any mention 
 of Mrs. Folsom's influence. 
 
 He was moved by her frank avowal, though he en 
 deavored to appear indifferent, and then said, "I wish 
 to make two propositions to you, but the answer to 
 
 them may be deferred till my return from H , 
 
 unless you at once decide upon acceding to the first, 
 in which case I should like to have you accompany me 
 10*
 
 114 JULIETTE. 
 
 there and remain with your grandmother as long as 
 you choose. It is this. That you give up these fool 
 ish notions you imbibed from Mrs. Osborn, and accom 
 pany me to Europe in the next steamer, where we shall 
 at once join Horace, and travel in connection with his 
 party." 
 
 "And what is the other?" she faltered, as he paused, 
 pressing her hand upon her heart. 
 
 "It is this. Go forward as you expressed your de 
 termination to do, and make yourself a byword and 
 reproach. Let the finger of scorn be pointed at you 
 as the ungrateful, disobedient child, and my house can 
 no longer be your home. I shall disinherit you at 
 once, and you must no longer look to me for protec 
 tion." 
 
 While he was speaking, Juliette was obliged to clutch 
 the chair for support. The color faded from her 
 cheeks and lips, and her father feared she would fall. 
 She raised her eyes to heaven, and with a quivering 
 voice feebly articulated : "Even so, Father, for so it 
 seemeth good in thy sight." 
 
 Mr. Fearing, not understanding the import of her 
 words, but, fearing from her manner that she refused 
 to obey him, exclaimed in a sharp, impatient tone, 
 " You cannot realize what it will be to be thrown upon 
 the world for protection ; you, who have been brought 
 up in the lap of luxury, to earn your daily bread. 
 Think well before you decide. Obey your father, 
 which is a duty enforced in your Bible, and share my 
 fortune equally with your brother, have every wish of
 
 JULIETTE. 115 
 
 your heart gratified, and my unbounded gratitude and 
 affection. Disobey me, and be an outcast from your 
 home and from society, a disgrace to all connected with 
 you. I leave for H in an hour; when I return, I 
 shall expect your final answer." 
 
 "Father !" the tone was heart-rending; "I need no 
 delay. The trial you force upon me may, indeed, 
 prove my death ; but I cannot give up my Saviour. 
 No ! even if I leave home, kindred, and friends, to follow 
 him. This is my answer ; " and, with a flood of tears, 
 she attempted to rise and leave the apartment. 
 
 "Rash, mad, unthinking girl ! " he cried, seizing her 
 hand to detain her ; " but I will not waste words with 
 you. Reflect well before you decide. I will not accept 
 your answer until my return." 
 
 He walked hastily from the room, leaving the poor 
 girl so faint and trembling that she could scarcely gain 
 her own apartment. 
 
 Nearly an hour later, she heard her father's voice in 
 the hall, and with a sudden resolve went out to meet 
 him. He stopped and gazed eagerly at her, hoping 
 she had come to retract her decision. Her face was 
 pale, and fixed as marble, though her eyes were bril 
 liant as if lighted by fever. " Good-by, dear father," 
 she murmured, softly. "Will you kiss me once 
 more?" 
 
 "Never!" he exclaimed, angrily, "until you can 
 learn to obey me." 
 
 With a sharp cry of pain, as if he had struck her, 
 she turned wearily away, and entered her boudoir.
 
 116 JULIETTE. 
 
 Before he reached the foot of the staircase, he turned 
 back with a mighty longing to hold her once to his 
 heart, but pride forbade, and he hastened on. 
 
 During the long hours of that terrible day, Juliette 
 lay upon her bed, stunned with the awful blow that 
 had fallen upon her. She tried to rouse herself, and 
 endeavor to form some plan for the future, but was 
 totally unable to connect her thoughts. Eliza was 
 fully convinced that her young mistress was about to 
 have another attack of brain fever, and was strenuous 
 in her plea that Dr. M- ought at once to be sum 
 moned. Toward night the young girl fell into a light 
 slumber, from which she awoke* more composed. 
 Sometimes she resolved to send for Mrs. Folsom, or 
 her pastor, to come to her aid ; but always unaccus 
 tomed to act for herself, she dared not take such a 
 step. Then she determined to visit Mrs. Osboru, and 
 obtain her assistance in some plan for self-support. 
 But this she knew would incense her father, and was 
 given up. She at length arose from her bed, and 
 having taken some slight refreshment, sat down to 
 read a portion of Scripture. She opened the book, 
 and her eyes fell upon these words : " Though I walk 
 in the midst of trouble thou Avilt revive me ; thou shalt 
 stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine ene 
 mies, and thy right hand shall save me." " Cast thy 
 burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee." 
 
 "Yes," she repeated, "I will trust thy gracious word. 
 I have no earthly arm to lean upon ; but my Father in 
 heaven will never leave me nor forsake me." Once
 
 JULIETTE. 117 
 
 more she bowed the knee and committed herself to his 
 care, and then returning to her couch, her exhausted 
 nature found refreshment in sleep. 
 
 The stars were still shining when she awoke, con 
 fused with the vague remembrance of some painful 
 event ; but presently the incidents of the previous day 
 rushed into her mind. In imagination she once more 
 beheld her father placing before her the temptations of 
 the world to allure her from her Saviour : a beautiful 
 country home, and a journey through foreign lands. 
 She knew she had clone right ; but oh ! what might 
 Horace think when told she had refused to join him? 
 She buried her face in her hands, and wept bitter, 
 bitter tears as she realized that she might never see 
 him more. 
 
 " Oh, why, why must I give up all my friends ? My 
 trial is greater than I can bear ! " For a few moments, 
 the thought of all she was about to resign, a luxu 
 rious home, a high position in society, which, though 
 she had never valued it much, seemed alluring now 
 that she was about to exchange it for poverty and con 
 tempt, her dear friends, her pastor, and the church 
 of which she was about to become a member, all 
 this overwhelmed her with anguish. She wept con 
 vulsively, bathing her pillow with her tears. But in 
 the midst of her distress, she seemed to hear a sweet 
 voice saying, "Blessed are ye when men shall hate 
 you, and when they shall separate you from their 
 company, and shall reproach you, and cast out your 
 name as evil, for the Son of man's sake. Rejoice
 
 118 JULIETTE. 
 
 ye in that day and leap for joy ; for behold, your 
 reward is great in heaven." 
 
 Poor, afflicted, yet happy girl ! what blessed peace 
 and joy filled thy soul ! She lay for some time, her 
 hands folded on her breast, musing on these precious 
 words, as the gracious Spirit unfolded their true im 
 port : " These afflictions are but for a day, and thy 
 quiet submission to them shall be rewarded with an 
 eternity of bliss." Her tears ceased to flow, and she 
 was able to collect her thoughts for the formation of 
 some plan of action. Her father might return at any 
 hour, when a repetition of the scenes of yesterday 
 could only result in his increased displeasure. Juli 
 ette felt it to be her duty to place herself out of the 
 way of temptation. She had already chosen her path ; 
 and she would write him that it was her final decision 
 to follow her Saviour, even though it led her far away 
 from the protecting care of one who was bound to 
 cherish and support her. 
 
 Having resolved to leave home, it was wonderful 
 how easy everything appeared. She rang her bell, 
 and directed Eliza to pack into a trunk what would be 
 necessary for an absence of a few months, selecting 
 the simplest articles from her wardrobe ; and in the 
 mean time was pleased to find that her last allowance 
 from her father remained untouched. A few tears 
 were shed as she recalled the words of Horace : " If 
 anything should occur, dear sister, remember that I 
 have an ample fortune, and I expect to share it with 
 you." When the trunk was ready, she ordered break-
 
 JULIETTE. 119 
 
 fast in her boudoir ; and when the waiting-maid had 
 gone to hers, she passed the time in selecting some 
 valuable jewelry, given her by her grandparents and 
 brother Horace, which she locked in her dressing-case, 
 and crowded into the bottom of her trunk. 
 
 Eliza, who was extremely fond of her mistress, looked 
 exceedingly grave as she found her already arrayed in 
 her travelling dress, and ventured to ask whether she 
 might not accompany her. 
 
 This question quite unnerved poor Juliette, who had 
 been fortifying her mind against the dreadful thought 
 of going alone, she knew not whither. For one instant 
 she determined to take her, but then rejected the plan 
 as unwise. "You have been a good girl, Eliza," she 
 said ; " I shall never forget your kindness to me while 
 I was sick." She selected the largest ring from her 
 finger and added, "Wear this for my sake." 
 
 After ascertaining that Henry was sleeping off the 
 effects of his night's dissipation, she gave up the idea 
 of seeing him, but determined to write her farewell* 
 Then, sending word to Peter that she should wish the 
 carriage in an hour, she sat down and wrote her father 
 as follows, 
 
 "MY DEARLY BELOVED FATHER, Never have 
 
 you seemed so dear as now, when with streaming 
 eyes I take my pen to bid you a long farewell. 
 The memory of all your love, your tender care dur 
 ing my recent illness, your constant acts of affec 
 tion rush over me with almost overpowering force;
 
 120 JULIETTE. 
 
 but I am about to leave you. Yes, you have placed 
 this alternative before me, and, in compliance with my 
 Saviour's commands, I must leave all and follow him. 
 I had vainly fancied that by my dutiful affection I 
 might win from you the privilege of acting as my con 
 science dictates, and yet remain under your roof. Oh, 
 how ardently have I longed and prayed for this ! But 
 that hope has gone forever, and nothing remains but 
 for me to submit. I go forth ignorant of the ways of 
 the world, and not knowing whither to direct my 
 steps ; but my trust is in God, who has promised to 
 sustain, strengthen me, and comfort my poor, trem 
 bling heart. Could I believe that my daily and nightly 
 prayers for you would be answered, and that the love 
 and peace of God would fill your soul, even as amidst 
 the keen anguish of parting from all I hold dear, they 
 do my own, I could praise him through all eternity. 
 
 " When you write Horace, will you give him the best 
 wishes of his sister's heart? 
 
 "Dear, dear father, farewell. 
 
 " Your loving, weeping 
 
 "JULIETTE." 
 
 " When my father returns give him this," she said 
 to Eliza, who stood tearfully obeying her last orders. 
 The servants collected at the door, tears glistening in 
 their eyes, and uttering remonstrances against her 
 sudden departure. She caught Mrs. Cumniings by 
 the hand and tried to speak, but could not command 
 her voice. They all felt that something was amiss;
 
 JULIETTE. 121 
 
 but no one dared utter the suspicion ; and, with a hasty 
 glance around the loved home of her childhood, she 
 hastened down the steps, and was almost lifted by 
 Peter into the carriage. 
 
 " Where shall I drive, miss?" he asked, putting his 
 head in at the window. 
 
 " Take me to the Harlem cars," she faltered in an 
 almost inarticulate tone. 
 
 Throwing herself back in the carriage in all the 
 abandonment of grief, one line in a favorite song, in 
 connection with this terrible parting, continual^ re 
 curred to her mind, 
 
 " It may be for years, and it may be forever." 
 
 After this she seemed like one walking in a dream. 
 She had a vague remembrance that Peter asked her if 
 he should buy a ticket for New Haven, that he placed 
 one in her hand and also a check for her trunk ; but 
 she was stupefied with grief, and rode on mile after 
 mile, unable sufficiently to compose herself to decide 
 upon her future course. 
 11
 
 CHAPTER XIH. 
 
 " My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
 And every tale condemns me for a villain." 
 
 ON the morning of the third day after his daugh 
 ter's departure, a note came from Mr. Fearing, 
 addressed to her. Mrs. Cummings was half distracted 
 at this confirmation of her fears that he was not aware 
 of her absence. At last, trembling with dread of his 
 displeasure, she tore open the envelope, and read the 
 enclosed note, in order to decide whether it was her 
 duty to inform him of the sad event. 
 
 The hasty lines were evidently written while his 
 heart was subdued by grief, and were as follows, 
 
 " MY BELOVED DAUGHTEE, I write from your 
 grandmother's room, which I have scarcely left for a 
 moment. The physician has now informed us that 
 she cannot survive many hours. She has just ex 
 pressed a wish to see you once more. If you take 
 the next boat you may possibly find her alive. 
 Dear child, I long to see you and fold you in my 
 arms. Try to banish every hard thought, and re 
 member that I love you, and under all circumstances, 
 will endeavor to make you happy. 
 
 "EDWARD FEARING." 
 
 122
 
 JULIETTE. 123 
 
 " What shall I do ? " exclaimed the anxious house 
 keeper to Eliza, who stood pale and trembling at her 
 side. " He thinks her safe at home. I wish Mr. Hor 
 ace were here, or even Mr. Henry, to relieve me of the 
 responsibility of acting by myself. I must either go 
 or write, and have only an hour to decide which." 
 Presently she rang the bell and directed Peter to have 
 the carriage at the door as quickly as possible, when, 
 hastily arraying herself in a riding-dress, she told him 
 to carry her to Mrs. Folsom's. 
 
 The lady was engaged in writing, but came at once 
 when she learned who wished to see her. 
 
 "Excuse me for calling, madam," began the visitor, 
 in a strange, hurried manner; "but Miss Juliette sud 
 denly left home two days ago. We all thought there 
 was something wrong about it, and to-day this letter 
 comes to her from her father." 
 
 Mrs. Folsoni read the letter in silence. She alone 
 possessed the knowledge which might explain the 
 young girl's conduct. Her cheek flushed with indig 
 nation as the possible meaning of the underscored 
 words flashed through her mind ; but this was no time 
 to give it vent. "You must go to him at once," she 
 said, firmly. 
 
 " I dare not be the one to tell him," cried the house 
 keeper in alarm. "At such a time, too, it would kill 
 him." 
 
 "Write then, write immediately, or it will be too 
 late; stay, I will write in your name; what shall I 
 say?"
 
 124 JULIETTE. 
 
 " Oh, whatever you please. Eliza says her mistress 
 directed her to pack clothes enough to last several 
 months." 
 
 Mrs. Folsom pressed her hand to her head uncer 
 tain whether to inform Mr. Fearing of the absence of 
 Juliette, or to request him to return without delay. 
 Putting her pen to paper she rapidly traced the fol 
 lowing words, 
 
 "MB. FEAKING, I opened your letter, as your 
 daughter is away from home. Please return as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 "SARAH CUMMINGS." 
 
 Contrary to the expectation of the physician, Mrs. 
 Fearing lingered until toward morning, and then sank 
 away into the sleep that knows no waking. Several 
 times, in the course of the day and night, she inquired 
 whether her grand-daughter had arrived, and expressed 
 disappointment in not seeing her. 
 
 Calling her son to the bed, she motioned for him to 
 put his ear to her mouth, and then with difficulty ut 
 tered these words : " Tell Juliette that I loved her and 
 left her my blessing. She is to have all my wardrobe 
 and jewels ; but all I have can never repay her for her 
 earnest prayers for me. Tell her I died resting on 
 Christ." 
 
 She paused and seemed greatly exhausted, but 
 presently .added : "Dear Edward, there is nothing can 
 reconcile me to death, but Christ. He " A fit of
 
 JULIETTE. 125 
 
 coughing interrupted her, and she never resumed her 
 sentence. 
 
 When it was announced that all was over, her son 
 rushed from the chamber and locked himself in his 
 own apartment. "This, then," he exclaimed to him 
 self, "is the source from whence my mother derived 
 that peace and resignment which has filled me with 
 wonder. There must be a reality and power in relig 
 ion that I never imagined. Ah, my poor Juliette ! " 
 
 The ensuing hour was one he never forgot. Re 
 morse for the course he had pursued toward his chil 
 dren , for in that dreadful heart-scrutiny he feared he 
 had sinned as much in not restraining his son, as in 
 his cruel taunts to his daughter, and terror at the idea 
 that the grim messenger might even now be on_the 
 wing to summon him to his dread account, struggled 
 for mastery in his breast. Then his thoughts turned 
 to Juliette. He wondered that she had not obeyed 
 his summons. How disappointed she would be in 
 finding herself too late ! 
 
 In the midst of all these thoughts the haughty man 
 was pleased that the sad affliction which had befallen 
 him would give him the opportunity, he now really 
 desired, to retract what he had last said to her. He 
 could even anticipate the grateful affection that she 
 would lavish upon him, as he consented to her living 
 the life of a Christian. 
 
 A low knock at his door startled him. He ap 
 proached it, expecting to see Juliette, but it was only 
 a servant, who put a note in his hands with the addi- 
 11*
 
 126 JULIETTE. 
 
 tional information that it ought to have been delivered 
 the day before. ' 
 
 It was not even in Juliette's well-known writing. 
 He tore it open, vexed at himself for a feeling of 
 anxiety ; but had scarcely glanced at its contents, 
 when he cried aloud, " Juliette away from home ! 
 What can it mean?" 
 
 He crushes the note in his hand, and begins to walk 
 the room. Of course she is only absent, making a 
 call perhaps on her friend, Mrs. Folsom. He looks 
 at his watch. " It is not too late for her to come by 
 the morning boat. But why does Mrs. Cummings 
 wish me to return? At such an hour she must be 
 aware that I cannot leave this place. I fear there is 
 something more than meets the eye." 
 
 In accordance with a hasty resolve, he goes below 
 stairs, where he finds Dr. Morrison endeavoring to 
 comfort his father. Calling him aside, he inquires 
 whether any arrangements have been made for the 
 funeral, saying he would send an undertaker from 
 the city. 
 
 " But surely you will not leave your father until 
 after the funeral," urged the doctor. 
 
 "I expected Juliette. I have received this," fal 
 tered the distressed man. 
 
 Dr. Morrison glanced at the crumpled note. " Prob 
 ably Henry has had another attack of delirium, which 
 has frightened the good woman," he remarked. "That 
 boy will kill himself, unless you put him under re 
 straint."
 
 JULIETTE. 127 
 
 "Yes, that must be the case," exclaimed Mr. Fear 
 ing, with a sigh of relief. "I forbade Juliette to enter 
 his room on a former occasion, and, like a dutiful child, 
 she has now absented herself. Her mind and heart 
 are too pure for such a scene." 
 
 By the time he reached New York, he had suc 
 ceeded in convincing himself that it was wholly on 
 Henry's account he was summoned home. Mrs. Cum- 
 mings recognized his hasty ring, and, before Eufus, 
 the porter, could answer any question, presented her 
 self tremblingly before him. 
 
 " Where is my daughter ? " was his first eager in 
 quiry. 
 
 With her handkerchief at her eyes, the woman an 
 swered, "She has not yet returned." 
 
 "Returned! From what place? Where has she 
 gone?" 
 
 "Ah, sir ! that is what we do not know. She left 
 the morning after you did. Now I think of it, Eliza 
 has a note for you, which, no doubt, will explain." 
 
 "Tell her to bring it to me." 
 
 Struggling for calmness, he entered the parlor, and 
 languidly threw himself into a seat. The letter, ad 
 dressed to "My dearly beloved father," was in his 
 hands, but he could not summon courage to open it. 
 " Bring me a glass of wine," said he to Eliza who lin 
 gered, longing to hear something concerning her young 
 mistress. When he had drank it, he added, "Tell Mrs. 
 Cummings that my mother died this morning, and that 
 no one is to be admitted."
 
 128 JULIETTE. 
 
 The note has been already given to the reader, and 
 it may well be imagined, in the softened state of Mr. 
 Fearing's heart, what its effect would be upon him. 
 Sorrow and bitter remorse had begun their work. For 
 three days and nights he had watched beside his moth 
 er's couch, snatching a few moments of sleep in a lol- 
 ling-chair at her side ; but he had scarcely thought of 
 fatigue. Now, when he needed all his strength and 
 clearness of thought, he found himself weak and help 
 less as a child. His brain whirled ; he clung to the 
 side of the chair for support, and presently, with a 
 loud crash, he fell forward upon the floor. 
 
 The porter was the first one who reached him, and, 
 with a sharp scream for help, tried to raise his master 
 to a sitting posture. ^ Other servants rushing in, he was 
 laid gently upon the lounge, Mrs. Cummings ordering 
 Peter to go at once for Dr. M . 
 
 At this command, Mr. Fearing opened his eyes and 
 made a gesture of dissent. " I was faint," he spoke 
 with difficulty. "I shall be well, shortly. Mrs. Cum 
 mings, will you order a cup of coffee to the library? 
 I have eaten no breakfast." Feebly raising himself, 
 he endeavored to walk across the room, but was obliged 
 to lean upon the arm of Kufus. "Leave me, "said he, 
 as the servant brought him a plate of hot rolls with 
 his second cup of coffee. " I can eat nothing more." 
 He arose and locked the door, feeling as if the weight 
 of years had fallen upon him. "O Juliette! Juli 
 ette ! " he groaned aloud ; " child of my heart, come 
 back to me. My beloved daughter, I will never thwart
 
 JULIETTE. 129 
 
 you more." He extended his arms, while his pro 
 truded eyeballs seemed fastened upon the door ; but 
 no light step was heard approaching; no graceful 
 form timidly sought his embrace ; nothing could be 
 heard but the wild beating of his own desolate heart, 
 echoing to the thought, " She has gone from me ! gone 
 forever ! " 
 
 Once more he opened and perused her letter, every 
 word of which was like a dagger piercing his inmost 
 soul. Not one expression of anger, not one sigh of 
 complaint. " Father, you have placed this alternative 
 before me ; you bid me choose between my luxuriant 
 home, blessed by your affection, and my crucified 
 Saviour. I love you, father ; but I dare not sacrifice 
 my soul, which Christ shed his precious blood to save." 
 Oh ! those soft, pleading, earnest eyes, which were up 
 turned to his face, when she uttered similar words, 
 how clearly they were daguerreotyped on his memory ! 
 how had he resisted their eloquent entreaties,! 
 
 At length, with a mighty effort at self-control, he 
 rang the bell, and directed Eliza to be sent to him. 
 From her he learned all that has been narrated to the 
 reader connected with his daughter's departure from 
 home, and the fact stated by Peter, that he had seen 
 her on board the Harlem cars. 
 
 At this last intelligence, Mr. Fearing started to his 
 feet, exclaiming, in an eager tone of delight, " Without 
 doubt, she is with Mrs. Osborn. What a fool I have 
 been, not to surmise this before ! I will follow her at 
 once, and see her before I sleep."
 
 130 JULIETTE. 
 
 He was hastening to the door ; but, before he reached 
 it, staggered, and would have fallen, but for Eliza's 
 assistance. 
 
 "My long watching has unnerved me," he said, 
 apologizing for his weakness, as she led him to the 
 sofa. " I cannot go myself. Tell Peter to go to the 
 store, and ask the head-clerk to come here directly, 
 prepared to go out of town for the night." 
 
 The afternoon car for New Haven left at five. There 
 would be abundant time to reach it, and also to attend 
 to preparations for his mother's funeral. While Peter 
 was gone, he bade Eliza bring him his writing-desk, 
 and with a trembling hand penned the following 
 words, 
 
 "Come back, my daughter, to your father's arms. 
 Come back ; and there shall be no more dissension 
 between us." 
 
 Ah, how many months and years of anguish might 
 have been spared, could she have received that short 
 epistle ! But I must not anticipate. 
 
 In less than two hours, the clerk, whose name was 
 Hooper, reached D , and lost no time in proceed 
 ing to Mrs. Osbdrn's school. Upon sending his name 
 as a clerk of Mr. Fearing, the lady instantly appeared. 
 
 "Is Miss Fearing with you?" he asked. 
 
 " I am somewhat surprised at your question," replied 
 the lady, drawing herself up with some dignity,, as she 
 recalled her last interview with Mr. Fearing. " I have 
 never seen my former pupil since her father took her 
 away, last autumn."
 
 JULIETTE. 131 
 
 "Nevertheless, madam, my employer sent me here 
 with a note to his daughter, whom he believed to be in 
 your family." 
 
 Mrs. Osborn's countenance began to express anxiety 
 as well as surprise. " How long has she been absent 
 from home?" was her eager, hurried inquiry. 
 
 " I did not ascertain. Mr. Fearing has just returned 
 from the country. His mother died early this morn 
 ing, and, upon his return to the city to make prepara 
 tions for the funeral, he found her absent. It is to 
 inform her of this sad event, I was sent to find her. 
 At least, this is what I inferred, though I acknowledge 
 there is a mystery about her absence, and her father's 
 ill-concealed anxiety in consequence of it." 
 
 The lady sat gazing thoughtfully at the speaker, the 
 shadow deepening on her face. " Was the young lady 
 in good health?" at length she inquired. v 
 
 " She has never looked strong since her severe and 
 dangerous illness early in the season. It occurred 
 just after Mr. Everett sailed for Europe, and rumor 
 connected the events together." 
 
 " Strange, that I never heard of it," faltered Mrs. 
 Osborn, half aloud; "but where can my poor Juliette 
 be?" 
 
 Mr. Hooper then gave the lady an account of the 
 brilliant success of the young heiress during the past 
 winter, the parties and balls made for her benefit, 
 the grace and dignity with which she presided over her 
 father's elegant mansion, and the excitement her beauty 
 and artlessness had occasioned among the bon ton.
 
 132. JULIETTE. 
 
 The lady was more pained than she cared to express 
 to a stranger. That her beloved pupil should create a 
 sensation was what she had easily prophesied ; but had 
 she passed this ordeal without endangering her own 
 soul? Suppressing her emotion, she inquired, " When 
 shall you leave for New York ? " 
 
 "As early as possible. It seems important that Mr. 
 Fearing should know I have failed in meeting his 
 daughter here." 
 
 " Certainly. Why not take the midnight train ? " 
 
 " I was not aware that there was a train till morn 
 ing ; but I shall do so, without fail." 
 
 " Mr. Hooper, you are a stranger to me ; but I am 
 about to ask of you a favor. Miss Fearing was com 
 mitted to my care by her dying mother, who was my 
 dear friend. She was with me for years ; but since 
 she left, I have received but one letter from her, in 
 answer to a score that I have sent. Your errand 
 causes me the greatest anxiety, and I must beg of you 
 to write me, or suggest to her to do so, that I may be 
 relieved of my solicitude on her behalf." 
 
 "With pleasure, madam. You may expect to hear 
 from me within a week ; " and, taking leave of her, he 
 returned to the hotel to wait the arrival of the cars. 
 
 The agony of Mr. Fearing may be better imagined 
 than described, when, at the earliest hour he could 
 gain admission, Mr. Hooper called to announce the 
 entire want of success in his mission. 
 
 He sat upright in bed, gazing in the face of his 
 clerk, as if he could scarcely comprehend his words ;
 
 JULIETTE. 133 
 
 but presently rousing himself, called out, in a loud 
 voice, "Quick, let no time be lost. Send for the 
 chief of police ! " 
 
 Sooner than could have been expected, the gentle 
 man made his appearance, and was immediately put in 
 possession of the facts, as far as concerned the young 
 lady's departure. 
 
 His cool, self-possessed air, and the confident tone 
 in which he said, "We'll find trace of her before 
 night," went far to tranquillize the almost distracted 
 parent. One after another, the servants were called, 
 and underwent a close examination as to the minutest 
 circumstances, the officer carefully noting in a small 
 book whatever he deemed of importance. Then, after 
 a full description of her personal appearance and dress, 
 accompanied by a miniature of Juliette, he turned to 
 Mr. Fearing, with the remark, "Probably you are 
 aware of some cause your daughter may have had in 
 leaving your protection. Without any desire to be 
 impertinent, I ought to inform you that were I ac 
 quainted with the facts, it would aid me much in my 
 search ; for instance, had she an unfortunate attach 
 ment?" 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," returned Mr. Fearing, with 
 an indignant flush, as he realized that his cruelty had 
 subjected her to such a suspicion. His voice changed, 
 and his countenance grew pale, as he added, "There 
 was a reason, as you suppose. I was unwilling she 
 should make a profession of religion, and in order to 
 force a compliance with my wishes, threatened, if she 
 
 12
 
 134 JULIETTE. 
 
 disobeyed me, to withdraw my support and protection. 
 I need not tell you," faltered the distressed man, "that 
 this was but a threat, and that I regret it most 
 keenly." 
 
 No one could doubt this who witnessed his ghastly 
 countenance, from which cold drops were constantly 
 exuding ; certainly the chief of police did not. With 
 out a word of comment he reiterated his expectation 
 of finding the lost one, and left the house. 
 
 With him departed all the father's new-born hopes. 
 Imagination was rife with the most dreadful visions, 
 while the tooth of remorse gnawed painfully at his 
 heart. He scarcely thought of his mother's decease ; 
 or, if for a moment it flashed through his mind, it was 
 succeeded by a feeling of relief that she could not 
 share in this terrible anxiety. He called loudly for 
 Horace, cursing himself that his illness prevented his 
 personal participation in the search ; but turned 
 fiercely upon Henry when he offered his services. 
 ToAvard night his excitement became so alarming that 
 Mrs. Cummings assumed the responsibility of sending 
 
 for Dr. M , who immediately insisted that his 
 
 patient should take a powerful anodyne. 
 
 Though it was scarcely possible that anything could 
 be learned of the poor wanderer until the arrival of 
 the evening cars, yet the slightest noise, the ring 
 of the door-bell, the stopping of a carriage, caused 
 Mr. Fearing to tremble with emotion. Fixing his 
 
 o cj 
 
 keen eyes upon every one who entered his chamber,
 
 JULIETTE. 135 
 
 he yet feared to ask a question lest the awful ap 
 prehensions of his mind should be realized. 
 
 " O conscience 1 into what abyss of fears 
 And horrors hast thou driven me ; out of which 
 I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " None have accused thee ; 'tis thy conscience cries, 
 The witness in the soul that never dies ; 
 Its accusation, like the moaning wind 
 Of wintry midnight, moves thy startled mind; * 
 Oh, may it melt thy hardened soul, and pour 
 From out thy frozen heart life evermore I " 
 
 HENRY FEARING, who needed the most power 
 ful motives to induce him to leave his boon com 
 panions, was now completely sobered by this accumula 
 tion of trials. His grandmother deceased, his sister a 
 homeless wanderer, his father distracted with horrible 
 forebodings, it became him to act his part like a man. 
 The servants, who had hitherto regarded him with ill- 
 concealed contempt, now looked with wonder upon him 
 as he stood consulting with their kind physician, and 
 attending to the business necessary to be done. As 
 certaining from Mr. Hooper that an undertaker was 
 to be sent from the city, he also despatched one of his 
 
 father's clerks toH to inform his grandfather there 
 
 of his illness, and afford what aid might be needful. 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when a loud, decided ring 
 at the door-bell seemed to announce tidings either of 
 good or of evil. An officer was admitted, sent by the 
 
 136
 
 JULIETTE. 137 
 
 chief of police, whom Henry, according to directions, 
 accompanied at once to his father's chamber". 
 
 Mr. Fearing was dressed, and reclining on a lounge. 
 On seeing the gentleman he started to his feet, but 
 immediately sank back trembling with fear. 
 
 " Speak," he exclaimed hoarsely ; " have you found 
 her?" 
 
 " We think we have got upon the right track," 
 answered the man. "But if you will allow me, I 
 will give you the particulars." 
 
 Henry drew a chair for the officer opposite his 
 father's lounge, when he proceeded, 
 
 "With your daughter's miniature and a full de 
 scription of her dress in my hand, I took the Harlem 
 cars for New Haven. A young miss travelling alone, 
 her eyes red with weeping, was observed by the con 
 ductor, who remembered the day in consequence of 
 some questions about her trunk. She told him she 
 was unused to the care of baggage, and begged his 
 assistance in having it sent to the place where she in 
 tended to stop." 
 
 Mr. Fearing breathed a deep sigh of relief, while 
 Eliza's tears flowed freely, as she exclaimed, " Oh, I'm 
 sure that is my dear mistress ! " 
 
 With a gesture of impatience from the excited father, 
 the officer went on. " I had no doubt I was on the 
 right track, and having noted in my pocket-book the 
 name and number of the street where the young miss 
 wished, to go, I showed the picture to the conductor. 
 But he had only caught a glimpse of her face, dis- 
 
 12*
 
 138 JULIETTE. 
 
 figured by excessive weeping, and failed to recognize 
 it. The dress, as nearly as he could recollect, ans 
 wered to the description. 
 
 " On reaching New Haven I went directly to E 
 
 street, and inquired whether a young lady by the 
 name of Fearing was staying there. 'No,' was the 
 prompt reply. At this answer I stepped inside the 
 door, and informed the servant that I had business of 
 importance with her mistress. I was well aware that 
 a lady might, for reasons of her own, take a feigned 
 name, and I determined not to rest satisfied until I had 
 seen her. The lady of the house presently made her 
 appearance, when I arose and introduced myself. ' A 
 young miss,' I said, ' left New York on Tuesday of 
 this week. I have traced her to this house, and shall 
 be greatly obliged if you will allow me to see her.' 
 
 " Without a word of comment (a woman of sense 
 she was) , she stepped to the door and called 'Alice ; ' 
 when a pretty girl tripped down the stairs and entered 
 the door." 
 
 Mr. Fearing caught his handkerchief and held it to 
 his eyes, while tears, the first he had shed, trickled 
 through his fingers. 
 
 " Well, sir ! " cried Henry, impatiently. 
 
 " I was informed Miss Fearing wore her hair short 
 and curling; this Alice, as they called her, had 
 abundant tresses, twisted into a large knot at the back 
 of her head." 
 
 "Then it was not our Juliette, after all." Henry
 
 JULIETTE. 139 
 
 spoke indignantly, while his father groaned and 
 sobbed aloud. 
 
 " They were very curious to know why I wished to 
 see her ; and I told them sufficient for my purpose. 
 
 "Miss Alice started up, her face aglow with excite 
 ment ! ' I think I can help you,' she said. ' A beau 
 tiful girl occupied the same seat with me, and, while T 
 wept, she kindly took my hand. I noticed she sighed 
 often. I told her I was hastening to a friend who was 
 very ill. The tears came to her eyes as she replied, 
 'II, too, have bitter trials ; but our heavenly Father 
 sends them to us in love to draw us to him."' 
 
 Mr. Fearing's sobs ceased ; he gazed in the face of 
 the officer as for his life. 
 
 " That sounds like my dear mistress," muttered 
 Eliza. 
 
 The officer continued. 
 
 "'Did she look like this?' I asked, presenting the 
 picture. 'Her countenance was much more sad,' she 
 answered, in a tone of disappointment, 'but not really 
 unlike it after all. She sat jt my side, so I could not 
 look her in the face ; but I think she must have been 
 the one. When the cars leached New Haven, I asked 
 where she was going ; and I remember now that I 
 thought her somewhat embarrassed, as she answered, 
 "I am not sure, but I think I shall go as far as 
 Boston."' 
 
 "All this time she held the picture in her hands, and 
 said, 'I see more likeness the longer I look at it; but 
 her eyes were not so bright, and her face was thinner.'
 
 140 JULIETTE. 
 
 'Miss Fearing has been sick,' I said, 'which might ac 
 count for that. Did you notice her dress?' 'Not 
 particularly, I was so much absorbed in my own 
 grief; but I think she wore a genteel travelling dress ; 
 and I remember she had a very small foot, neatly cased 
 in a boot of the same color as her dress. She tried to 
 make it stay on the foot-rest, but it kept slipping off.' 
 
 "I thanked the young miss, and, having gained all 
 the information in my power, I joined my associate at 
 the depot, repeated to him what I had learned, and de 
 spatched him to Boston, while I returned to prosecute 
 more particular inquiries between New Haven and New 
 York. I authorized him to employ as many of the 
 Boston police as were necessary to effect his purpose, 
 and promised to join him to-morrow, unless he tele 
 graphs me that he has succeeded in his search. There 
 is only one fact which prevents me from fully con 
 curring in the opinion of Miss Alice, and that is this, 
 her trunk was checked to New Haven, and would, of 
 course, be taken out there unless the check was changed, 
 and this I thought the lady would not think of except 
 at the suggestion of the conductor. I determined to 
 sift this before I advanced a step further. 
 
 " First I went to the baggage-master ; but he remem 
 bered no such exchange, so I had nothing to do but 
 to wait for the conductor. He eagerly inquired about 
 my success, when I told him all that had occurred. He 
 rubbed his head, and tried to recall any such circum- 
 - stance; said if I had inquired the next day he might 
 possibly have remembered it ; but young ladies unused
 
 JULIETTE. 141 
 
 to travelling were so much in the habit of asking his 
 advice, he could not fix upon one individual with 
 certainty." 
 
 As the officer paused, Mr. Fearing sank back, the 
 color receding from his face and lips, leaving his coun 
 tenance of a ghastly pallor. 
 
 Henry started forward and offered him a glass of 
 water ; but he waved him away, and pressed his hands 
 tightly upon his heart. 
 
 The officer rose to take leave, but waited a moment, 
 as if wishing to add a word to what he had already 
 said. Mr. Feariug's distress, however, prevented, and, 
 motioning Henry to the door, he said, " I have thought 
 it barely possible that your sister may have regretted 
 her hasty step, and returned in the next train to New 
 York. Have you no friends with whom she would be 
 likely to seek protection ? " 
 
 " A capital idea ! " exclaimed the young man. " What 
 steps would you advise?" 
 
 " To send at once to each and every house where her 
 more intimate friends reside." 
 
 " But this would give publicity to her flight." 
 
 " Which cannot possibly be avoided," returned the 
 officer, emphatically. " If this does not bring her to 
 light, advertising must be resorted to." 
 
 Late in the evening Dr. M called, and found 
 
 Mr. Fearing in a dangerous condition. He ordered 
 powerful draughts to the feet, and quieting powders 
 repeated until sleep was induced. It was really pain 
 ful to see this strong man submitting so passively to
 
 142 JULIETTE. 
 
 the will of others. At first he seemed surprised that 
 his son should assume so much authority ; but after a 
 while was uneasy when the young man left the room. 
 
 The next day the funeral of Mrs. Fearing was to be 
 attended, and Henry much wished to hear the result 
 
 of the search in Boston before starting for H . 
 
 There was no telegram, however, and the officer left 
 in the early train for that city, having ascertained that 
 Miss Fearing was not visiting any of her friends in 
 New York. The next day he and his associate re 
 turned, wholly without success ; when, after consulta 
 tion with Dr. Morrison, who had come to the city with 
 Henry immediately after the funeral, the latter pro 
 ceeded to advertise in all the public journals. 
 
 The poor distressed father was by this time sunk so 
 low that fears began to be entertained for his life. His 
 bereaved father left the new-made grave of his de 
 ceased wife and came to weep by the couch of his son. 
 
 Once when they were alone, the distracted man 
 gazed earnestly in his father's face, and with a cry of 
 horror, exclaimed, " I have killed her ! I have killed 
 her ! " And, indeed, terrible suspicions ^too vague and 
 dreadful to be put into words, began to assume an 
 awful reality, as messengers were despatched to the 
 dead-house by the chief of police. This gentleman 
 pursued the search with praiseworthy shrewdness and 
 zeal, until convinced that it was wholly useless. As it 
 was now a week since Juliette's departure, her body, in 
 case it had been recovered, must have been buried- long 
 ago ; and it was by this time beyond recognition.
 
 JULIETTE. 143 
 
 Dr. M , who greatly feared the result of this 
 
 announcement, was gratified, though astonished, to 
 observe that from this hour his patient began slowly to 
 recover strength. Juliette deceased, which he had at 
 last convinced himself must be the case, was not half 
 so terrible to his imagination as Juliette living in 
 poverty or want. 
 
 At the end of a month he announced his intention 
 of sailing at once for Europe. The house and furni 
 ture were let for two years, the servants dismissed ; 
 and, with the impatience which was natural to him, after 
 his plans were formed, Mr. Fearing gave himself no 
 rest until he and his son were ready for embarkation. 
 It is not to be supposed that such events transpiring in 
 the very midst of the aristocracy of New York society, 
 should pass without creating excitement and comment. 
 From time to time certain articles, cautiously worded, 
 appeared in the daily press, hinting at the probable 
 causes of the young lady's sudden absence ; but these 
 were carefully kept from the knowledge of the dis 
 tressed father, by the watchful care of Dr. and Mrs. 
 Morrison, who never left the bereaved husband of their 
 Juliette until he and his son were safely on board the 
 Astracan, bound for Liverpool. 
 
 At this time it was nearly two months since the de 
 cease of Mrs. Horace Fearing, and the sad events so 
 closely following it ; but these months had not passed 
 without effecting a great change both in her son and 
 grandson. Mr. Edward Fearing looked at least ten 
 years older, and there was an appearance of subdued
 
 144 JULIETTE. 
 
 grief upon his countenance never observed there be 
 fore. His words were few, but they were kind, and 
 often showed that they came from an aching heart. He 
 clung to his son, and seemed to depend so much upon 
 his affection for all the comfort that remained to him, 
 that Henry found it far easier than he had supposed to 
 give up the life of dissipation, the pleasures of which 
 stimulated but never satisfied his unhallowed desires 
 and appetites. In his eye, formerly so bloodshot and 
 blurred, now shone the commencement of manly pur 
 pose. There was, to be sure, at times, an almost irre 
 sistible craving for strong drink ; but his kind friend, 
 Dr. Morrison, assured him that this thirst would be 
 come less frequent the longer he abstained from grati 
 fying it, and pointed to present experience to prove 
 that he was already happier, as well as in better 
 health, than when involved in the whirl of sensual in 
 dulgence. 
 
 During this period several letters had been received 
 from Horace, some of them directed to Juliette. He 
 was unceasingly earnest in his demands for intelligence 
 from his sister, as not one word respecting her had 
 transpired in their correspondence. But no one had 
 the heart to inform him that henceforth she was to be 
 considered as much lost to her friends as the lady 
 whom he styled grandmother, though the place of her 
 sepulchre no one knew. 
 
 In that vast city there were two hearts that ached 
 bitterly at this most sad result of their counsels. 
 These were the Reverend Dr. A and Mrs. Ward
 
 JULIETTE. 145 
 
 Folsora. Though neither of them doubted that, 
 whether living or dead, the persecuted girl would 
 never cease to be grateful that she had been enabled 
 by divine grace to forsake father and mother, houses 
 and lands, for the Son of man's sake, knowing that 
 her reward would be great in heaven ; yet they wept 
 tears of sorrow at her untimely fate. 
 13
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " The grief that on my spirit preys, 
 
 That rends my heart, that checks my tongue, 
 I fear will last me all my days, 
 But feel it will not last me long." 
 
 BUT was the lovely girl really deceased? Had 
 she been called to offer up her young life a sacri 
 fice to her ungodly father's bitter prejudices? Let us 
 go back to the hour when she fled from further tempta 
 tion, fearing lest in her weakness she might be over 
 come, and thus virtually deny her Saviour. 
 
 She had chosen the Harlem cars simply because it 
 was the route she had last travelled with her father, 
 
 and led through D , where Mrs. Osborn's school 
 
 was located. 
 
 Glancing timidly around among the passengers, her 
 attention was arrested by two modest-looking girls 
 who occupied the seat before her. From their conver 
 sation she learned that they had been away at school 
 for six months, and were returning home for the first 
 time. Their cheerful anticipations of the cordial wel 
 come they should receive from father, mother, brother, 
 and a certain young man by the name of Dudley 
 Houghton, smote upon the heart of the sorrowing 
 
 146
 
 JULIETTE. 147 
 
 Juliette, with a keen pang. Tears gushed to her eyes, 
 at the bitter thought, " I have no friends to welcome 
 me." She pressed her hands to her breast to stop its 
 wild beating. " Where am I going? " she asked her 
 self, in an agony of emotion. " Alas ! alas ! I am a 
 poor, homeless wanderer, an 'outcast for my Saviour's 
 sake." 
 
 A low groan caused the young girls to turn around 
 just in time to see that their fellow-passenger was 
 fainting. 
 
 In one moment all was confusion and excitement. 
 One gentleman rushed to the next car to summon the 
 conductor, while the ladies searched their pockets for 
 salts or cologne. 
 
 It was some minutes before Juliette revived, not 
 withstanding the vigorous fanning and chafing of her 
 hands by her attentive friends ; and then she found 
 herself leaning against the shoulder of an elderly lady, 
 while the young girls who had attracted her attention 
 w T ere sitting opposite, and tenderly holding her hands. 
 
 As soon as she could talk, they were- very earnest to 
 know the cause of her sudden illness. " Was it the 
 close air of the cars ? " They would open the windows ; 
 though the lady at her side had objected until she 
 were better. 
 
 Poor Juliette, unused to equivocation, could only 
 sigh and shake. her head; but as they thoughtlessly 
 urged their inquiries, and volunteered everything in 
 their power for her relief, she said, at length, "I have
 
 148 JULIETTE. 
 
 been very ill, and I suppose I am not so strong as I 
 hoped." 
 
 "How far are you going?" inquired the one called 
 Maria. 
 
 Juliette had heard them mention Stamford as their 
 native place, and with a sudden impulse named it as 
 her destination. 
 
 Maria glanced at her sister, and then said, "How 
 lucky ! We are going there, too. Have you friends in 
 Stamford?" 
 
 "No," said the young girl, in a sad tone ; "I am an 
 entire stranger there. Perhaps you can tell me of some 
 quiet place where I can board until I can arrange my 
 plans." 
 
 " Why can't she come with us ? " eagerly inquired 
 Susan, the younger girl. " I'm sure she is not well 
 enough to go among strangers. Mother wont object, 
 I know." 
 
 Maria hesitated a moment, but meeting Juliette's 
 eyes fixed upon hers with such a wistful expression of 
 entreaty, she answered, "Yes, so she shall." 
 
 How little these artless school-girls could realize the 
 relief these words brought to their new companion. 
 With an impulsive motion she caught Susan's hand, 
 and pressed it to her lips, while she inwardly acknowl-, 
 edged the watchful care of her heavenly Father in thus 
 ordering her steps. 
 
 " Have you much baggage ? " inquired the practical 
 Maria. 
 
 " Only one trunk," said Juliette.
 
 JULIETTE. 149 
 
 "Some one will come for us in the wagon," she con 
 tinued, in an apologizing tone ; " I was only thinking 
 how we could get all our trunks home." 
 
 " Oh, we'll manage somehow ! " exclaimed Susan. 
 "And if we can't get it all in, there's my largest trunk 
 I sha'n't need for a week. Father or one of the men 
 come to the depot every day or two." 
 
 "Only two stations more," responded her sister, 
 gazing eagerly from the window. 
 
 "Do you feel better, dear?" inquired the old. lady, 
 turning to face her young companion. " I am a little 
 deaf," she added, as Juliette thanked her, and said she 
 was quite well. 
 
 "Yes, the color has come back to your lips; " and 
 she patted the pale cheek affectionately. 
 
 " Stamford ! " shouted the conductor, putting his 
 head within the door. 
 
 The girls started to their feet and hastily took down 
 their carpet-bags from the rack. "Here, let me carry 
 yours, too," cried Susan, catching the more stylish one 
 from Juliette's hands. " You run and see to the bag 
 gage, Maria, and I'll find father. Have you a check 
 for your trunk, Miss " 
 
 " My name is Juliette Edwards," responded the 
 young girl, her cheeks burning as she put her check 
 into Susan's hands. 
 
 An honest-looking farmer stood near a large covered 
 wagon, his eyes fixed eagerly upon the few passengers 
 who alighted from the cars. 
 
 13*
 
 150 JULIETTE. 
 
 " There's father ! " exclaimed Susan, running toward 
 him, followed by Juliette at a short distance. 
 
 "How de do, child?" said he, giving her a loud 
 kiss. "Where's Maria?" 
 
 "She's seeing to the trunks." The young girl ap 
 proached nearer, and said a few earnest words in a 
 low tone. 
 
 " That's right," he answered heartily. 
 
 Susan then led Juliette forward and introduced her. 
 
 "Sorry to hear you've been sick, miss," said he, 
 with his honest, friendly voice. "We'll cure you up, 
 though, and put a little color into your cheeks. Here 
 Susan, you stand by the horse, and I'll go and see 
 what's got into Maria." 
 
 At this moment the young girl'came in sight, walk 
 ing leisurely by the side of a young man. They were 
 so earnest in conversation that they did not notice the 
 others. Susan laughingly approached them. " How 
 do you do, Dudley?"' she asked. She then introduced 
 Miss Edwards, and presently inquired, " Are you going 
 by the farm ? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered, coloring a little. " I was down 
 this way with our store wagon, and I told your sister 
 if she would ride with me I'd be happy to take her 
 home." 
 
 The merry girl glanced at her sister, whose face was 
 suffused with blushes. " Dudley will take my trunks," 
 she said. "The one belonging to Miss Edwards was 
 checked for New Haven, and had to go on ; but Dud 
 ley found a friend in the cars, who promised to see it
 
 JULIETTE. 151 
 
 taken out and sent back by the next train ; so there 
 will be room for all." 
 
 The young man insisted, however, upon taking all 
 the baggage, which he could well stow into the back 
 part of his express wagon, and soon drove gayly off 
 with his Maria by his side. In the covered wagon Ju 
 liette occupied the back seat, numerous .packages from 
 the store being piled up by her side, while Susan sat 
 in front with her father, and asked twenty questions 
 about mother, James, and "home, without giving him 
 time to answer. 
 
 It was more than two miles from the depot to Mr. 
 Smith's farm ; but the country looked beautifully ; the 
 peach-trees were full of blossoms, and in front of 
 every house was a neat bed of flowers. 
 
 " The fields did laugh ; the flowers did freshly spring; 
 
 The trees did bud, and early blossoms bore, 
 And all the choir of birds did sweetly sing." 
 
 Juliette's heart echoed Susan's earnest, " Oh, how 
 glad I am to be in the country again ! " Slie liked all 
 she had seen of her new friends, and thought, if the 
 mother proved as cordial in her welcome as her good 
 husband had been, she should be content to remain 
 with them as long as her funds would permit. 
 
 At last the wagon turned up in front of a comfort 
 able farm-house, the sound of the wheels bringing 
 mother and brother to the door. Shading her eyes 
 from the sun, the woman gazed earnestly into the car-
 
 152 JULIETTE. 
 
 riage. "That's our Susie," she said to her son; "but 
 who's the other?" 
 
 " There's Maria with Dudley," shouted James Smith, 
 just as the first-comers stopped at the door. His 
 hearty, rather boisterous laugh ceased instantly as he 
 caught sight of the pale face on the back seat. With 
 a deep blush he returned Susan's sisterly kiss, and then 
 as she said, turning toward Juliette, "This is my 
 brother, Miss Edwards," he made an awkward bow, 
 and retreated behind his mother. 
 
 Throwing the reins over the back of the horse, Mr. 
 Smith took Juliette's hand and led her toward his 
 wife. "Here is a poor, delicate little flower," he said, 
 " which I have brought for you to tend. I'll warrant, 
 under your care, the lily will shortly turn into arose." 
 
 A keen, searching glance on one side, and an appeal 
 ing, wistful earnestness on the other, and the homeless 
 wanderer was folded tenderly in the mother's embrace. 
 
 Oh, what a rush of grateful joy swelled her breast 
 almost to bursting ! " How safe it is to trust in God ! " 
 was the language of her heart. " I went out, not 
 knowing whither I went ; but He has led me to this 
 place." 
 
 While the trunks were being taken from the wagon, 
 Susan began to joke Maria about her ride. Dudley, 
 though with a heightened color, stopped her by say 
 ing, "I tried to persuade the conductor to allow Miss 
 Edwards' trunk to be taken out. It was put in with 
 the New Haven baggage. I insisted that we could 
 not be answerable for his mistakes ; but it will be
 
 JULIETTE. 153 
 
 back this evening, and I'll see that it's brought here 
 safely." 
 
 "It was marked for New Haven, I suppose," ex 
 claimed Juliette, " and my ticket was for that place. 
 I am sorry to give so much trouble, but I have never 
 travelled alone before, and I didn't understand about 
 the stations." 
 
 Her manner was slightly embarrassed as she realized 
 that though this was truth, it was not the whole truth. 
 
 "Come upstairs," called Susan, gayly. " I'll show 
 you where to put your things. Mother ! she'll go in 
 the blue room, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, dear, I'll come presently, and see that all is 
 in order." 
 
 When they were alone in their room, the impulsive 
 girl threw her bonnet and mantilla on the bed, and, 
 putting her arm around Juliette's neck, kissed her af 
 fectionately. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, as the 
 young girl took off her bonnet, disclosing her soft, 
 dark curls ; " how funny you do look ! just like a little 
 boy!" 
 
 "My hair was cut short when I was sick," returned 
 the other. "I had a brain fever. I hardly know what 
 to do with my tresses now." 
 
 " I'd give the world if mine curled so ! " exclaimed 
 Susan, decidedly. "Why, I'd have it cut off in a 
 minute, if I thought 'twould look so sweetly." 
 
 Mrs. Smith, who had entered while they were talk 
 ing, laid her hand softly on the silky locks, and was 
 much surprised when the grateful girl caught it and
 
 154 JULIETTE. 
 
 pressed it warmly between her own. The good wo 
 man had waited below to ascertain something more of 
 the young stranger, and Maria eagerly communicated 
 what had passed in the cars. 
 
 "That's all I know," she added, "and I shouldn't 
 have ventured to bring her home if Susan hadn't been 
 so earnest about it." 
 
 Mrs. Smith turned an anxious glance upon her hus 
 band, but her face brightened again, as he replied, 
 " Take my word for it, wife, she may have been im 
 prudent, but she isn't wicked ; not while she can look 
 you straight in the face with those truth-telling eyes. 
 When she clung so lovingly to you, I couldn't help 
 thinking of the good verse, 'Be not forgetful to enter 
 tain strangers, for thereby some have entertained 
 angels unawares.' " 
 
 " If you would like to take off your riding-dress, 
 Miss Edwards," exclaimed Susan, beginning to disrobe 
 herself, "I can lend you a wrapper till your trunk 
 comes. You're such a tiny thing nothing else of mine 
 will fit you. For my part, I'm so warm I mean to 
 take a good bath." 
 
 "Thank you," replied Juliette, warmly; "but I 
 think I shall not be uncomfortable. I shall grow cooler 
 while I wash and arrange my hair." 
 
 "Not a very serious job, that," returned Susan, gay- 
 ly", twining her finger through one of the short curls. 
 "But I must run to my own room, to be ready for 
 dinner. I hope, mother, you've got something real 
 good ; I'm dreadfully hungry. Miss Edwards, I shall
 
 JULIETTE. 155 
 
 be right in here ; if you want anything, please sing 
 out." 
 
 "Call me Juliette, please," responded the young 
 girl, smiling at the gay, easy tone of her companion. 
 To her mind, depressed by her heavy trials, there was 
 something inexpressibly charming in Susan's cordial 
 gayety. Carefully closing and bolting the door to her 
 room, it occupied but a few moments to bathe her face, 
 neck, and arms ; and then resuming her travelling 
 habit, she bowed her knee in humble gratitude to her 
 Almighty Friend, who thus far had fulfilled his promise 
 to her, and ordered all things well. "With a heart 
 swelling with emotion, she implored blessings on the 
 kind friends who had so cordially received a stranger 
 to their home, and prayed that her residence among 
 them might be productive of great good. 
 
 In the mean time, Maria and Dudley had parted for 
 a few hours, and the young lady had joined her mother 
 and sister in the room next to Juliette's. While the 
 latter was arranging her toilet, she could distinctly 
 hear the sound of their voices, as they chattered mer 
 rily together. 
 
 " Has Dudley gone ? " inquired Susan. " It was real 
 good of him to meet us at the depot." 
 
 "I thought it likely he would go," rejoined Mrs. 
 Smith, "he asked James so particularly about the 
 time you were expected." She smiled as she glanced 
 at Maria's blushing face, but immediately added, "I 
 wish we knew something more of Miss Edwards, 
 though I think that she looks honest and truthful."
 
 156 JULIETTE. 
 
 The good woman felt a praiseworthy anxiety that 
 her daughters should not be brought into intimate ac 
 quaintance with one whose society might prove injuri 
 ous, especially with one whose prepossessing appear 
 ance and manners might give her an undue influence 
 over them. 
 
 Susan began to talk of their school and the teachers, 
 gayly humming a line of her favorite song, 
 
 " There's no place like home." 
 
 But Maria, who was hanging her travelling dress 
 in the closet, silenced her sister by placing her finger 
 on her lips, and beckoning her mother to the closet 
 door. 
 
 From this place, separated from the next room only 
 by a thin partition, they could hear the low voice of 
 Juliette, uttering her prayer in the ear of her kind 
 Father in heaven. Standing motionless for a moment, 
 the mother's eye glistened through a tear, while Susan's 
 cheek was suffused with a heightened glow, and then 
 each, with a heart subdued by the influence of this 
 pious act, returned to her own duties. 
 
 The dinner-bell called Juliette from the window, 
 where she had been feasting her eyes upon the lovely, 
 quiet scene before her. The house stood only a few 
 feet back from the road, but directly beyond was a 
 beautiful orchard of trees, thickly covered with their va 
 riously hued blossoms, while still further on a lo\v range 
 of hills skirted the horizon.
 
 JULIETTE. 157 
 
 " 'Twas a goodly scene. 
 Ton river, like a silvery snake, lays out 
 His coil i' th' sunshine lovingly, it breathes 
 Of freshness in this lap of flowery meadows." 
 
 " Come, Juliette ! " cried Susan, after a low tap at the 
 door. " Father is one of the punctual sort. We must 
 hurry downstairs. Come, a penny for your thoughts." 
 
 "I was scarcely thinking at all," returned the young 
 lady, with a smile. "I was enjoying your beautiful 
 home." 
 
 The family were gathered about the table as they 
 entered, and while all stood behind their chairs, Mr. 
 Smith solemnly invoked a blessing on their food. 
 
 This was a novel mode to the young stranger, whose 
 heart wanned more fondly toward her new friends, 
 when she found them loving her Saviour. Since her 
 illness she had had little appetite ; but now the simple 
 country fare, so deliciously cooked by the matron's own 
 hand, relished so agreeably that it would have been 
 easy for her to echo Susan's hearty exclamation, " O 
 mother, how good your food does taste I" Maria, 
 though a pleasant girl, free from affectation, did not 
 impress our heroine so favorably as the free, outspoken 
 Susan. There was a cordiality and sincerity about 
 the latter which caused a warm glow in the heart. 
 "Perhaps, though, it may be," thought Juliette, "that 
 Maria's mind is absorbed with her friend Dudley." 
 
 14
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Here too dwelt simple truth; plain innocence; 
 Unsullied beauty; sound, unbroken youth, 
 Patient of labor, with a little pleas'd ; 
 Health ever blooming; unambitious toil; 
 Calm contemplation, and poetic ease." 
 
 AFTER dinner the three girls accompanied by 
 their brother wandered all over the farm, visited 
 the bossies in their pen, the hens in their neat rows of 
 coops, where Juliette was delighted with the soft, downy 
 chickens, and even the litter of young pigs in the sty. 
 
 James, with many blushes, answered all the ques 
 tions which the city girl in her ignorance asked, and 
 did not laugh at them as his sisters did. Indeed, ho 
 watched every graceful motion of their young visitor 
 with such evident pleasure that Susan could not restrain 
 her love of fun, and playfully pinching his arm whis 
 pered, "Isn't she lovely? You must thank me for 
 bringing her home." 
 
 "Do you like bread and milk?" inquired the merry 
 girl, as after a few hours they sat around the tea-table. 
 
 "I have never eaten any," was Juliette's smiling 
 reply. 
 
 "I thought so by the looks of your pale cheeks," 
 remarked the farmer, playfully. " Wife, pour out some 
 
 158
 
 JULIETTE. 159 
 
 milk in a bowl, and don't be sparing of the cream, either. 
 I want to see her looking rosy, like our country girls. 
 Now break into it some of that sweet brown bread, 
 
 r 
 
 and you'll find it delicious." 
 
 "How soon will the honeycombs be ripe, father?" 
 asked Maria. "I always want baked sweet apples in 
 my milk." 
 
 "By the last of August, child. The tree hangs full 
 of blossoms." 
 
 Juliette made her entire supper of bread and milk, 
 and thought she should enjoy such fare for a month ; 
 though the kind mother pressed upon her at least a 
 taste of the preserved cherries, and the light home 
 made cake. 
 
 "I shouldn't think you'd eaten anything for a week," 
 muttered James in his sister's ear, as she allowed her 
 father to heap tarts and cake on her plate. 
 
 " Well," she exclaimed, "I should like to have you 
 away at boarding-school for six months, where they 
 only have dry bread and bad butter, with little thin 
 slices of cake. I guess you'd be thankful to come home 
 to mother's fare." 
 
 "I'm thankful without going, Susy; but I don't 
 believe you had so bad a time as that." 
 
 " No," said Maria, laughing ; " we lived well enough ; 
 but mother's butter is sweeter than anybody's else." 
 
 When the meal was finished, Susy brought her father 
 the Bible, who read without rising from the table, and 
 then all knelt at the family altar. Mr. Smith prayed 
 like one who was accustomed to pour out his soul
 
 160 JULIETTE. 
 
 before God. His petitions were simple, but fervent, 
 and touched the hearts of the whole circle with a con 
 viction of their sincerity. 
 
 Juliette sobbed like a child, but her tears were not 
 caused by sorrow ; no, they welled up from a heart 
 overflowing with gratitude and praise. She could 
 scarcely refrain from uttering the sacred words which so 
 aptly expressed her own emotions. " I will bless the 
 Lord, who hath given me counsel ; because he is at my 
 right hand, I shall not be moved. The lines are fallen 
 unto me in pleasant places ; yea, I have a goodly 
 heritage." 
 
 Soon after tea, Dudley came driving to the door, 
 bringing Juliette's trunk. Having tied his horse to 
 the post, James assisted him in carrying it upstairs, 
 and then the whole family adjourned to the porch, run 
 ning the whole length of the spacious L. Presently, 
 however, Susan exclaimed, "Father, I'm going to the 
 pasture for' the cows ! " and invited Juliette to accom 
 pany her. " I suppose I must have a broad-rimmed 
 hat, if I'm to live in the country," returned the young 
 girl, playfully accepting the offer of Maria's school one. 
 
 The pasture was a quarter of a mile from the house ; 
 but the air was balmy, and Susan delightfully merry. 
 The setting sun threw long shadows across the fields, 
 and over the winding path. Juliette was really sur 
 prised at herself for her keen enjoyment of the 
 beauties of nature. Everything around her, even the 
 society of the good farmer and his kind-hearted wife, 
 the awkward earnestness of James, the warm, though
 
 JULIETTE. 161 
 
 unexpressed, attachment between Maria and Dudley, 
 and the frank, naive manners of the light-hearted 
 Susan served to divert her thoughts from her own pe 
 culiar trials. As she retired to bed that night she said 
 to herself, " If I only knew how my dear father bears 
 my absence, I should be happy to remain here forever. 
 How little I expected last night to be so delightfully 
 situated. Surely I have reason to say ' The Lord is on 
 my side, what can I fear?" 
 
 Early the next morning Susan entered her room on 
 tiptoe and waked her with a kiss. " I'm going out to 
 the barn-yard to see father and James milk," said she ; 
 " don't you want to go, too ? It's a splendid day ; " and 
 she looped back the curtain, letting a flood of golden 
 light into the chamber. 
 
 The young stranger opened her eyes and gazed 
 wildly around the room. Her sleep had been long and 
 profound, and she could not at first comprehend where 
 she was. The small, neat chamber, with its white 
 muslin curtains, and sprigs of blue flowers dotting the 
 walls, was so unlike her spacious apartment, with its 
 draperies of rose-colored damask and embroidered 
 lace, the lofty walls hung with gilded paper, that she 
 seemed to herself to be still dreaming. Susan's merry 
 laugh soon recalled her thoughts, though she rubbed 
 her eyes sleepily as she said, "I thought I was at home, 
 and Eliza had come to dress me. Yes, I should ad 
 mire to go, and I'll be ready directly, nearly as soon as 
 you are." 
 
 "I'm sure," exclaimed Susan, "I can't think what 
 H*
 
 162 JULIETTE. 
 
 people do who don't live on a farm. I should die to 
 be shut up between brick walls, and never see the 
 green fields, nor the new-mown hay." 
 
 "Perhaps they have never seen how beautiful the 
 country is," answered Juliette, pleasantly. "I was at 
 school in the country many years ; but I never was on 
 a farm before." 
 
 " Good-morning, sis," exclaimed James, coming with 
 a couple of large tin pails from the house. " Good- 
 morning, Miss Edwards. You are an early riser, I see." 
 
 " She deserves no credit for that," laughed Susan ; 
 " she would have slept till noon if I had not had com 
 passion on her. But I've taken her under my pro 
 tection, and I mean to have her breathe our fresh 
 morning air. Do you want to see me milk, Juliette? " 
 
 Our heroine stared. "I don't believe you can," said 
 she. 
 
 Susan advanced to her brother, but he waved her 
 back. "Not this one, sis, she's apt to kick; you may 
 milk Daisy, and welcome." But before he was ready, 
 she ran to the house for some dough which she scat 
 tered plentifully about in front of the small coops for 
 the chickens. 
 
 " Are you going to raise this calf? " she presently 
 shouted from the barn. "It's too pretty to kill. Oh, 
 how I used to cry," she said, turning to her com 
 panion, " when the butcher came for the calf, or for a 
 darling lamb ! I would not speak to him for weeks 
 afterward, except to call him an ugly, cruel man. 
 Wait here a minute, Juliette, I'm going up that ladder
 
 JULIETTE. 163 
 
 to the hay-mow, for I believe there is a nest of eggs 
 there. I saw a hen fly down last night ;" and, laughing 
 at Juliette's earnest remonstrance, she quickly began to 
 ascend. 
 
 "Ha, Susy, up to your old tricks, hey!" and the 
 farmer came into the barn, followed by Maria. 
 
 The young girl was trying to steady the ladder with 
 her tiny hands ; but Mr. Smith, with a laugh, took her 
 place. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! dear me ! " came a smothered voice 
 through the hay; "here's fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, 
 new-laid eggs. I'm afraid I shall break them coming 
 down, I want to ask mother to cook some for 
 breakfast." Holding them carefully in her apron she 
 slowly descended from her lofty height. "There, 
 father, see what you would have lost if I hadn't come 
 home." 
 
 She looked so fresh and rosy that Juliette could not 
 resist the temptation to give her a kiss, and then they 
 walked into the house together to help mother about 
 the breakfast. 
 
 " I'm right glad you're home, girls, for one thing," 
 remarked Mrs. Smith, about the middle of the fore 
 noon. "My caps all need doing up. You know I 
 never had any taste at millinery." 
 
 "If you'll starch them," whispered Juliette, "I'll 
 help you trim them ; I should like to." 
 
 " No, don't you go to troubling yourself," said Mrs. 
 Smith, as Susy gayly repeated the remark. 
 
 "Perhaps if I do them to suit you, Susan will let me
 
 164 JULIETTE. 
 
 help her about her other work," added Juliette, with a 
 rosy blush. 
 
 :f You may do anything you please, child, while 
 you're here," returned the good woman, tenderly. 
 
 On the Sabbath, Juliette accompanied the family to 
 church, Susan riding with her brother in the farm- 
 wagon. The services were solemn and impressive. 
 During the short intermission, as the young girl sat 
 with Mrs. Smith in the pew, the thought occurred to 
 her that here she might join the people of God, and 
 commemorate his dying love. She determined to take 
 an opportunity that very evening and consult her kind 
 friends upon the subject, though she knew that it 
 would involve a necessity of relating to them, in brief, 
 the trials through which she had passed. 
 
 In the mean time Maria and Susan had joined their 
 old class in the Sabbath school, from which they ad 
 journed to the singing seats, Dudley Houghtou being 
 leader of the choir. 
 
 "How inquisitive people are !" exclaimed Susan, as 
 they took their places at their late dinner on their re 
 turn from church. " Ever so many people asked me 
 who you were, Juliette. You seem to have attracted 
 a great deal of attention." 
 
 "What did you answer? " inquired the young girl, 
 her face growing very pale. 
 
 ft I told the truth, that you were a friend of mine, 
 who returned with me when I came from school." 
 
 " I said the same," repeated James, with a height-
 
 JULIETTE. 165 
 
 ened color. M Mr. Pond, the depot-master, asked me, 
 and two or three others." 
 
 After dinner, which, on the Sabbath, was after the sec 
 ond service, and which was concluded before four o'clock, 
 Juliette, finding Mrs. Smith reading in the parlor, 
 frankly said, " I want to ask your advice about myself." 
 
 Until this time she had never referred to her own 
 situation, and her friends had too much delicacy to in 
 trude upon her confidence . The good woman , in truth , 
 was much pleased at the thought that the mystery evi 
 dently attaching itself to her young visitor might be 
 solved. On the day after her arrival, Juliette had ex 
 pressed her wish to remain through the summer, which 
 Mr. Smith had agreed to at merely a nominal price. 
 Now she drew a low ottoman to the good woman's feet, 
 and, in as few words as possible, related her sad story. 
 When she came to describe the meeting with her father 
 at the time he placed the alternatives before her, a 
 luxurious home, his love and support on one side, and 
 her Saviour on the other, her sobs choked her utterance. 
 
 Nor did she weep alone. Mrs. Smith folded her 
 arms about her, as if she would protect her from all 
 coming danger, and with streaming eyes assured her 
 of their increased affection. 
 
 " Poor lamb ! " she exclaimed, tenderly passing her 
 fingers over the silky curls ; K you shall share with us 
 as long as we have a home. But, my dear, your father 
 may relent. Perhaps your firmness in doing your duty 
 may be the very means God is taking to lead him to 
 the knowledge of himself."
 
 166 JULIETTE. 
 
 " Oh," sighed Juliette, "do pray that it maybe so." 
 She then went on to state her wishes with regard to 
 professing Christ, and Mrs. Smith promised to consult 
 her husband on the subject. She received Juliette's 
 ready assent that he should be informed of her real 
 condition, but begged that this knowledge might, for 
 the present, be confined to their own breasts. 
 
 Mr. Allen, the clergyman of the parish, was absent 
 for a few weeks, and it was thought best to defer the 
 application to the church until his return. In the mean 
 time the young girl was treated with increased cordi 
 ality by the family at the farm. Maria and Susan were 
 aware that their parents had been informed of Juli 
 ette's earlier history, and saw that the knowledge added 
 to their respect and affection for her. In a few weeks 
 she had so won upon them that it would have been 
 considered a great affliction to part with her. She fol 
 lowed Mrs. Smith from her dairy to the kitchen, be 
 came initiated into the mysteries of butter-making, 
 and the more difficult kinds of cooking ; wandered at 
 pleasure over the farm, feeding the chickens, who soon 
 learned to come at her call ; accompanied the sisters 
 in their visits to their neighbors, and assisted them in 
 whatever they were engaged. 
 
 Mr. Smith taught a class in the Sabbath school, and 
 on more than one occasion our heroine had heard him 
 regret that he had not a commentary, which would as 
 sist him in preparing for the lesson. She tried to 
 devise a plan to procure one for him, and at last re 
 solved to make a confidant of Dudley, and engage him
 
 JULIETTE. 167 
 
 to purchase the books when he went to New York. 
 Knowing that it might be w T eeks before she should see 
 him alone, she frankly told Maria that it would greatly 
 oblige her if Dudley would do a little business for her, 
 and that she would write on paper what she wanted. 
 She did so ; and though the other wondered not a little 
 at this sudden friendship for her lover, who made the 
 most of the mystery, and insisted upon a private inter 
 view with Miss Edwards, the frankness of her young 
 friend prevented any misunderstanding. 
 
 Two days later, a large bundle, containing "Henry's 
 Commentary," in five volumes, was brought to the 
 house, directed to Miss Edwards, and thus the mystery 
 was explained. 
 
 The good farmer wiped his glasses repeatedly, before 
 he could see to read the little note which she put into 
 his hands, 
 
 " MB. SMITH : Dear Sir, Please accept the 
 books accompanying this, as a token of the gratitude 
 of one toward whom you and your dear family so cor 
 dially exercised your hospitality. ' I was a stranger, 
 and ye took me in.'" 
 
 " She is a blessed child," he said to his wife, when 
 they were alone, "and shall always be welcome to a 
 home as long as we have one." 
 
 Nor was Dudley the confidant of Juliette alone. On 
 one of his trips to the city he received a secret com 
 mission from James, and presently brought to the farm
 
 168 JULIETTE. 
 
 a dainty straw hat, tied with broad blue ribbons, which 
 the young farmer blushingly declared would "fit no 
 head but Juliette's." 
 
 The young girl acce ted the pretty gift with so much 
 pleasure, alleging that it was exactly what she had 
 been wanting, that poor James was obliged to leave the 
 room to give vent to his delight. He was a most wor 
 thy young man, an earnest, working Christian, acting 
 well his part in the sphere which Providence had as 
 signed him. He had a clear head, and an honest, af 
 fectionate heart. Independent in his views and opin 
 ions, he was awkward and confused only in the presence 
 of her he loved. Yes, it was no use to try to deceive 
 himself longer. Keenly susceptible in his nature, he 
 had found it absolutely impossible to remain two 
 months in constant intercourse with one so lovely as 
 Juliette, without lavishing upon her the best affections 
 of his strong heart. 
 
 True, this intimacy was not unmingled with pain, 
 for he had sense enough to perceive that he was totally 
 unfitted by education and rank to become the husband 
 of one so delicate and refined. But what reasoning 
 or argument will ever induce an ardent lover to give 
 up hope ? Thus far he had treated her with the ten 
 derness, but not with the frankness, of a brother, and 
 she had never once suspected the nature or extent of 
 his attachment.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " But doth the exile's heart serenely there 
 
 In sunshine dwell ? Ah I when was exile blest ? 
 When did bright scenes, clear heavens, or summer air, 
 Chase from her soul the fever of unrest ? " 
 
 BUT was Juliette really as happy as she seemed ? 
 Did not her heart yearn for her kindred ? Would 
 she not have rejoiced to exchange her present condition 
 for the luxuries of her city home, the gayeties of fash 
 ionable life ? 
 
 It would have been strange indeed if thoughts of the 
 dear ones she had left behind had not often caused her 
 eyes to overflow, and her heart to beat painfully with 
 anxious care. She found it an absolute necessity to be 
 busily employed, or this excitement would have preyed 
 upon her spirits to the injury of her health. But 
 could she have been assured that the step she had tak 
 en, though the very furnace of affliction it had proved, 
 could be instrumental of good to her father and 
 brother, she would have been more than content to re 
 main months or years in her present situation, trusting 
 that He in whose hands our life and breath are, would 
 turn the heart of her father to herself. 
 
 It was strange, but true, that the idea of his regret- 
 
 15 169
 
 170 JULIETTE. 
 
 ting and wishing to retract the cruel words he had 
 spoken, had not once occurred to her mind. Could she 
 have been aware of his hours of agony, and his nights 
 of remorse, the incessant longing of his heart to fold 
 her once more to his breast, and hear her pronounce 
 words of forgiveness, how quickly, how joyfully, 
 would she have flown to his side and lavished the 
 wealth of her affections upon him ! 
 
 But, alas, she knew nothing of all this ! The in 
 mates of the farm-house were quiet, orderly persons, 
 who stayed at home, attending to their own business ; 
 knowing little of the world at large, except what was 
 communicated through the columns of the " New York 
 Observer," which came regularly to them the last of 
 every week. Whatever attention might have been di 
 rected to herself by the advertisements extensively cir 
 culated throughout the country (and we know that her 
 first appearance at church did excite the remarks of 
 many persons) was satisfactorily explained by the 
 statements of the family that she was a friend who 
 accompanied the young ladies home on their return 
 from school. 
 
 In addition to her anxiety for her father, the thought 
 of Horace was scarce ever absent from her mind. His 
 form mingled in her cares by day and her dreams by 
 night. 
 
 " There's not an hour, 
 
 Of day or dreaming night, but I am with thee; 
 There's not a wind but whispers of thy name, 
 And not a flower that sleeps beneath the moon, 
 But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale 
 Of thee."
 
 JULIETTE. 171 
 
 Sometimes she had such an irresistible longing to 
 hear from him once more, to have his approval of 
 the course she had pursued, that she resolved to 
 write Mrs. Folsom and beg her to obtain information 
 of him, and the place where he might be addressed 
 abroad. But there w r as a secret feeling of delicacy 
 which forbade this. "If he were my own brother, I 
 would do so," she repeated, again and again. " What 
 could he mean by saying he thanked God that he was 
 not my brother?" 
 
 Yes, poor Juliette had many causes of secret sorrow, 
 among which the approbation of Mrs. Folsom, the ap 
 proval of her kind pastor, Dr. A , even the opinions 
 
 of her fashionable friends, were not the least. She 
 knew that the former would at once suspect the reason 
 why she had so suddenly fled from her home and 
 friends ; and they had both of them represented it as a 
 test of her love for her Saviour that she should forsake 
 all for him. But among the latter she was equally 
 aware that her absence would cause excitement and 
 suspicion, that her motives would be wholly misrep 
 resented and misjudged. Had it not been for her 
 childlike trust in the allotments of Providence, her in 
 creasing interest in her devotions, she might have sunk 
 under these trials, which she kept so closely locked in 
 her own breast. Often, on retiring to rest, she felt the 
 breathings of the divine Comforter, and with her whole 
 heart could repeat the beautiful words, " 
 
 " ' Thy will be done 1 ' In devious way 
 The hurrying stream of life may run ;
 
 172 JULIETTE. 
 
 Tet still our grateful hearts shall say, 
 ' Thy will be done I ' 
 
 41 ' Thy will be done ! ' Though shrouded o'er 
 
 Our path with gloom, one comfort, one, 
 Is ours; to breathe, while we adore, 
 1 Thy will be done.' " 
 
 Then, as I said before, every hour of the day was 
 filled with useful employment or recreation . For weeks 
 she dared not trust herself to sew except in the presence 
 of some of the family, lest her thoughts should take 
 wings and fly away, sometimes to the splendid mansion 
 in Madison Square, and often over the deep, blue sea. 
 
 It was a great relief to the young girl when Mrs. 
 Smith consented to confer with Mr. Allen in her be 
 half. She knew it would be necessary to inform him 
 of some parts of her former history, and she shrank 
 from relating it to one so much a stranger. After this, 
 it was easy for her to answer questions as to .her per 
 sonal experience of the power of religion, and her 
 readiness to accept Christ as her Saviour. 
 
 The good- pastor treated her like a child-, and while 
 he assured her they should gladly admit her to the 
 church, he advised her to make one more dutiful ap 
 peal to her father, informing him of her intention and 
 begging his blessing. " True," he added, " his conduct 
 has been harsh and unfeeling, as a parent, to say 
 nothing of his hatred of religion ; but the Spirit of 
 God may have made use of this very event to subdue 
 his proud heart. At any rate, you will show him that 
 the religion you wish to profess, teaches you to honor
 
 JULIETTE. 173 
 
 him in all things, except where his commands are 
 opposed to the will of God." 
 
 Juliette burst into tears. "You do not know my 
 father," she faltered, trying to control her voice. "He 
 is the most indulgent parent that a child ever had. I 
 could scarce name a desire, but he would find means 
 to gratify it; but upon this one subject his prejudices 
 cannot be shaken." 
 
 "Do not disparage the grace and mercy of God, my 
 child," said the clergyman, laying his hand softly on 
 her head ; "his compassion is infinite." 
 
 "Thank you! thank you, sir! you have given me 
 fresh courage to pray for him. I will write immedi 
 ately." 
 
 "That is best, and, as our communion service does 
 not occur for three weeks, you will have abundant time 
 to receive an answer from him." 
 
 That evening she retired to her own room, and, after 
 an earnest prayer for divine guidance, seated herself to 
 commence her epistle. But even after she had taken 
 her pen in hand she sat for a long time lost in reverie. 
 " How will my letter be received ? " she asked herself. 
 " When by my own act I have cut loose from the tie of 
 nature, will he wish any further communication with 
 me? Oh, that my dear mother were alive! I feel 
 sure in that case I should never have been forced to 
 this step ; but how do I know that he is well, that he 
 is living ? " At this terrible thought her tears began to 
 flow. "I will not write," she exclaimed, "I will go to 
 him. He may be ill and need my care." She sank 
 
 15*
 
 174 JULIETTE. 
 
 back again with the terrible recollection, " He has cast 
 rue off. Oh ! how could I forget his dreadful words, 
 ' I shall disinherit you at once ; you can no longer 
 have my support and protection ' ? " Deep sobs for a 
 time convulsed her whole frame. "He may relent," 
 she said, half unconsciously. " Yes, God's power is 
 infinite." Once more she lifted her heart to him who 
 loves to listen to the prayers of his children, and then, 
 with a mind more composed, seated herself and wrote 
 as follows, 
 
 \ 
 
 "DEARLY BELOVED FATHER, It is now ten weeks 
 
 since, in obedience to your command, I made my choice 
 whom I would serve. I need not tell you that for a 
 few hours there was a dreadful struggle in my mind 
 before I could decide to forsake you, my too indul 
 gent parent, my dear brothers, the home your love 
 had rendered so attractive, and follow alone, and by a 
 path beset with trials, the footsteps of my meek and 
 lowly Saviour. I knew, indeed, my duty, but oh ! my 
 flesh was weak. All night I bathed my pillow with 
 my tears, and cried unto God for help ; and he did 
 graciously appear for me. He poured the balm of 
 consolation into my bleeding heart ; he gave me 
 strength to do his will. The morning you left, I went 
 out of my chamber, at the sound of your voice, resolved 
 if you showed the least relenting, to throw myself at 
 your feet, and once more plead, that, while I obeyed my 
 Saviour, I might also be permitted to perform the sweet 
 offices prompted by a daughter's love. But, as you
 
 JULIETTE. 175 
 
 will no doubt remember, you still considered me diso 
 bedient, undutiful ; and you would not encourage me 
 even by a parting kiss. I returned to my room heart 
 broken. I threw myself on my knees, but for a long 
 time I could not pray, I could only think of you. ' I 
 poured out my soul like water ; ' I earnestly besought 
 God for you, that you might retract those dreadful 
 words. Through the day I kept my couch, starting at 
 every sound, longing, oh, so eagerly ! for your return. 
 
 " Then there came a change in my feelings, and the 
 thought flashed into my mind that I ought to leave home 
 instantly ; that by remaining I should only expose 
 myself, unnecessarily, to temptation. God had once 
 delivered me ; but would he if I threw myself into 
 trouble? No, my duty was plain, and, however great 
 the trials I might have to encounter, I must endure 
 them for Christ's sake, if I would win my reward. 
 
 "Not until my simple preparations were made, had I 
 the heart to write my farewell. Oh, you can never 
 know the agony of that hour ! I loved you more than 
 ever. All your tenderness and affection rushed over 
 me, so that more than once I was obliged to throw 
 down my pen and cry aloud. The thought of my keen 
 anguish even now so unnerves me that I can scarcely 
 write. 
 
 " Perhaps you will wonder, dear, dear father, why I 
 now address you ; perhaps you will be displeased ; but 
 my heart urges me to the act. Even if you never 
 answer me, if you only read this, you will better un 
 derstand my motives for acting contrary to your com-
 
 176 JULIETTE. 
 
 mands. Oh, if you would forgive me and receive me 
 again ; if you would allow me to be where I could look 
 upon your face and listen to your voice addressing me 
 as you did the past winter in tones of fond endearment, 
 I should be happy indeed ! You would, I am sure you 
 would, if you realized how much I suffer. Often I 
 wake up from my troubled sleep fancying that my 
 hand is in yours ; that I feel its soft pressure while 
 your voice echoes the blessed words, ' Juliette, I for 
 give you.' Dear father, at such times my trial is 
 greater than I can bear. 
 
 "I have not yet taken any decided stand as a, Christian. 
 I am a stranger in this place, and could not feel courage ; 
 but unless I hear from you, oh, my heart beats wildly 
 at the very thought ! I shall be received as a member 
 of the Stamford church at the next communion. 
 
 " Father, for one moment imagine me as of old, seated 
 on a taboret at your feet, your kind eyes resting on 
 mine, and ask yourself whether you would not be 
 happier now, and more at peace with yourself when 
 you lie down to die, if you give your consent to this, 
 and allow me to return to you. I cannot love you 
 more than I do now, for as I write my heart swells al 
 most to bursting ; but if my whole life devoted to your 
 comfort will prove my gratitude, how gladly would I 
 dedicate it thus ! 
 
 "Hoping and praying for an early answer, I sub 
 scribe myself your loving daughter, 
 
 "JULIETTE.
 
 JULIETTE. 177 
 
 "P. S. As you will see,' by my address, I am 
 within a few miles of Mrs. Osborn ; but as you forbade 
 me to see her, I have found pleasure in the thought 
 that in this I could obey your commands. If you 
 write, please direct to Juliette Edwards, care of Mr. 
 Samuel Smith, Stamford." 
 
 The excitement consequent upon writing this letter 
 was so great that poor Juliette did not shut her eyes 
 in sleep till morning, and then awoke, after an hour of 
 unrefreshing slumber, with so severe a headache that 
 she was unable to rise from her bed. 
 
 Mrs. Smith, who quickly followed Susan to her 
 room, advised a cup of sage tea, which she soon made 
 and brought to the couch ; then, closing the blinds, 
 she promised that the house should be kept quiet if 
 the poor sufferer would try to sleep. 
 
 It was near noon when she at length awoke, wholly 
 relieved from pain, but with a sense of lassitude through 
 her whole system. She had no idea of the time, but 
 quickly consulted her watch, hoping she had not over 
 slept so as to be too late for the post. Her letter, 
 when sealed and directed to her father, she had the 
 night before enclosed in another envelope to Mrs. 
 Folsom, with a request that she would forward it at 
 the most favorable opportunity. But now, upon 
 further reflection, she thought it would be better re 
 ceived if sent according to the first address, and there 
 fore she tore off the outside envelope and destroyed it. 
 
 This she wished herself to carry to the post, feel-
 
 178 JULIETTE. 
 
 ing sure that if her simple-hearted friends should be 
 come aware that their guest was the daughter of 
 Edward Fearing, the rich banker, they might be some 
 what embarrassed in their treatment of her. Juliette 
 knew that she had only to ask, in order to have some 
 method contrived for her to go where she wished, 
 even if Mr. Smith or James left their farming to ac 
 company her. 
 
 At the dinner-table she was welcomed as warmly as 
 if she had been absent for several days. She was still 
 very pale, which Mrs. Smith thought was owing to her 
 working too steadily. 
 
 Juliette smiled as she replied, "If you think so, I'll 
 play this afternoon." She then ventured to express her 
 wish to ride as far as the village, when James de 
 clared himself ready to accompany her at any hour she 
 might name. This he said with so much earnestness 
 that Susan laughed aloud. 
 
 It was hard to tell, then, who appeared the most con 
 fused, Juliette or her friend the young farmer. 
 
 It was in vain that Mrs. Smith looked grave and 
 shook her head at the lively girl. She had got on one 
 of her high keys, as her father called it, and she might 
 just as well have it out ; and her merriment proved so 
 contagious that at last they all joined in, though 
 James insisted that he didn't know what on earth they 
 were laughing at. 
 
 At three o'clock the covered wagon drove to the 
 door, and the young girls, for Juliette had begged 
 Susan to accompany her, took their seats, while James,
 
 JULIETTE. 179 
 
 dressed in his Sunday suit, and presenting a fine 
 specimen of an American yeoman, gathered up the 
 reins and drove gayly off. 
 
 Little did Juliette's companions imagine the anxiety 
 with which she went to deposit her epistle. She tried 
 to smile in answer to Susan's lively sallies ; but it was 
 with a heavy pain at her heart. 
 
 "Where will you go first, Miss Edwards?" was 
 James' inquiry, as they were approaching the village. 
 
 "To the post-office, if you please," she answered, 
 with a blush. 
 
 There was quite a crowd of men standing about, and 
 the modest girl shrank from entering alone. 
 
 " Don't get out," cried Susan ; " I'll hold the reins, 
 and let James go in for you. Run in, James, and in 
 quire for Miss Edwards." 
 
 "No, please help me out," urged Juliette: "I had 
 rather go in myself." 
 
 The young man saw she was in earnest, and, though 
 he rather wondered, he did not oppose her. Scarcely 
 touching his hands, she jumped lightly to the ground, 
 and made her way to the door. 
 
 James at first hesitated whether to follow her, but, 
 at a word from his sister, stepped forward and escorted 
 her toward the part of the building w r here she might 
 inquire for a letter. Just outside the little room, a 
 small frame, on which the words, "Letter-box," were 
 printed, arrested Juliette's attention ; and saying in a 
 low tone, "You inquire, please," she stepped back, and 
 unnoticed by any one dropped her letter within it.
 
 180 JULIETTE. 
 
 His endeavors to procure one for her were of course 
 unsuccessful ; but she did not seem at all disappointed. 
 On the contrary, she went back to the carriage in 
 much better spirits than before. 
 
 " Now we will go to Mr. Allen's," exclaimed Susan, 
 " and then call for mother's things at the store as we 
 return." 
 
 Here Juliette had two errands. The ostensible one 
 was to ask the pastor's acceptance of half a dozen 
 white cravats she had been hemming for him ; the 
 other will be learned in its place. 
 
 " How long are you going to stop ? " asked Susan. 
 "Shall we all go in?" 
 
 "Just as you please," was the answer; " my business 
 will occupy me but a moment." 
 
 "Do you want to go in, James?" inquired his 
 sister. 
 
 "Yes, I always like to call here." 
 
 "Well, then, we'll get out; and you can tie the 
 horse." 
 
 As they stood at the door, waiting for the young man 
 to join them, Juliette whispered, " I wish you would 
 contrive for me to see Mr. Allen alone a moment ; I 
 can't give him these if his family are present." 
 
 The good clergyman and his wife received them 
 very cordially. Mrs. Allen presently engaged the 
 young man, who was a favorite with her, in con 
 versation, while her husband talked with the ladies. 
 
 Presently Susan, who had not forgotten Juliette's 
 charge, arose from her seat saying, as she pointed to
 
 JULIETTE. 181 
 
 the open door, "That is Mr. Allen's study. May I 
 show Miss Edwards the view from the window?" 
 
 The pastor, of course, gave his consent, and followed 
 them as in duty bound . 
 
 The prospect was extensive, and the young lady ex 
 pressed her admiration of it. Then, approaching the 
 good man, she gracefully placed her small offering in 
 his hands. When she looked around, after receiving 
 his thanks, she saw her companion had joined the 
 party in the other room, and in rather a hurried, em 
 barrassed manner said, " There is one thing I ought to 
 say to you, sir, I forgot it yesterday, or rather I did 
 not feel it to be so necessary as I now do. My name 
 is Juliette Edwards ; but that is not my whole name. 
 I am the daughter of Edward Fearing, of New York 
 city ; but, if possible to avoid it, I should prefer not to 
 be known as such, for reasons you can easily imag 
 ine." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Allen, with a start of 
 surprise. " Well, I will try to manage it for you. 
 Do your friends, glancing toward the parlor, know of 
 this?" 
 
 "No, sir, they only know me as Miss Edwards. 
 Perhaps you will be pleased to learn that I have just 
 posted my letter." 
 
 On their return to the parlor the conversation be 
 came general; and Juliette was quite delighted and 
 rather astonished to see with what manliness and ease 
 James expressed his opinion on the various topics in 
 troduced. There was nothing at all of the shyness 
 
 16
 
 182 JULIETTE. 
 
 with which he generally addressed her. They con 
 versed of the state of religion in the parish, of some 
 new arrangements in the Sabbath school, and the 
 young farmer exhibited a soundness of judgment, and 
 good common-sense she had not known him to possess. 
 
 During their ride from the parsonage to the store, 
 she exclaimed, frankly, "James, I am glad you went 
 in. I never heard you talk so much before." And 
 she looked in his face with such an expression of in 
 terest that his manly heart glowed for the rest of the 
 day. 
 
 "Did you hear what Mrs. Allen asked me?" in 
 quired Susan. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I told her we were going to Mr. Houghtou's store, 
 and she whispered, 'Are we to have a wedding 
 soon?'" 
 
 " You must ask Maria," said I, laughing heartily. 
 "How do you suppose, James, she heard of their en 
 gagement ? " 
 
 "Perhaps from Dudley," he remarked; "he makes 
 no secret of it ; and I wouldn't, if I were he." The 
 young farmer glanced shyly at Juliette as he said 
 this.
 
 CHAPTEE 
 
 " Upon her face there was the tint of grief, 
 The settled shadow of an inward strife, 
 And an unquiet drooping of the eye, 
 As if its lid were charged with unshed tears." 
 
 BEFORE the close of the third day, our young 
 heroine began to feel impatient for an answer to 
 her letter ; but she was destined to be disappointed. As 
 the reader is well aware, her father and brother were 
 long ere this on their way to Liverpool ; and the clerk, 
 to whose care all correspondence was consigned to be 
 forwarded to them abroad, being absent for a day, the 
 precious epistle, freighted with love, and followed by 
 prayers, was carelessly dropped into a drawer with 
 other papers, and was not again brought to view until 
 nearly a year later. Then it was enclosed in another 
 envelope and mailed for Vienna, where Mr. Fearing 
 was supposed to be staying. 
 
 As one week tardily followed in the footsteps of 
 another, and no tidings from, home ; no word even to 
 tell the poor disinherited daughter that she was for 
 given, she grew pale and wan, her appetite left her, 
 and she was oppressed with such a sense of lassitude 
 that it required constant exertion to perform the daily 
 tasks she had assigned herself. She was often obliged 
 
 183
 
 184 JULIETTE. 
 
 to retire suddenly to her own room, to give vent to the 
 grief which she could not suppress. 
 
 " O remembrance I 
 Why dost thou open all my wounds again ? " 
 
 In vain Mrs. Smith prepared little dainties to tempt 
 her appetite ; in vain Susan invited her to the berry 
 parties so frequent at this season ; in vain Mr. Smith 
 and Maria proposed rides, walks, or more nourishing 
 food ; while James, with a sad pain gnawing at his 
 manly heart, regarded her with eloquent silencer Her 
 sorrow had sunk into her soul, and no arm but an Al 
 mighty one could remove it ; no sympathy but that of 
 her Saviour could soothe and comfort her. 
 
 One day, having passed the morning in tears, she 
 invited Mrs. Smith to her chamber, and, throwing her 
 arms about the kind woman, exclaimed, "Oh, I am 
 miserable indeed ! I have deceived myself in thinking 
 I am a Christian. I am impatient under trials. I did 
 not calculate aright my own strength, and I am unsub 
 missive to the will of God. I bow my knees before 
 him, but I can find no comfort in prayer ; I can only 
 cry aloud, O my father ! my father ! would to God 
 that I had never left you ! O Mrs. Smith ! some 
 times I wake up, bathed in perspiration, dreaming of 
 him calling for me, sick, and longing for my presence. 
 It is dreadful. I feel sure I cannot endure it long. 
 Perhaps I w r as too hasty ; perhaps he would have re 
 voked his terrible threat. I cannot believe he would
 
 JULIETTE. 185 
 
 have thrust me out. But, then, why does he not write 
 me?" 
 
 "Don't, dear child ! don't cry so ! you will kill your 
 self! Don't, Juliette ! You did what you thought was 
 best. Your motive was a right one, to avoid tempta 
 tion. Suppose, dear, you had waited till his return, 
 and then your courage had failed ? Suppose you had 
 consented to give up your Saviour, would you have 
 been happier now? No, indeed ! You forsook all for 
 him, and he will surely fulfil his promise to you. No 
 wonder you feel your father's displeasure. I've been 
 afraid you were brooding over your sorrows, for you 
 have faded like a broken lily. Come, dear ; " and the 
 kind woman, choking back her own tears, drew the 
 weeping child closer and closer to her bosom. 
 
 "Our hearts have ached for you," she added, softly 
 stroking Juliette's head, " and many's the earnest prayer 
 we've put up that you might hold out in the good 
 cause. As Mr. Smith said last night, 'tisn't many in 
 these days are called to go through such fiery trials ; 
 and to our short-sighted vision it seems strange that 
 such a little, weak, delicate creature as you are, should 
 be called to them ; but God knows best, dear, and we 
 must trust him. You remember the saints about the 
 throne, clothed in white robes, are those 'which came 
 out of great tribulation.'" 
 
 The sobs grew less frequent, and at length Juliette 
 murmured, "I should like to see Mr. Allen. If he 
 knew how rebellious my heart is, perhaps he would 
 not admit me to the church." 
 
 16*
 
 186 JULIETTE. 
 
 "You shall go, dear. I'll contrive it some way;" 
 and, leading the young girl to a chair, Mrs. Smith 
 hastened below. 
 
 Juliette little realized how inconvenient it would be 
 for her to be carried to the village, or she would on no 
 account have expressed the wish. It was in the midst 
 of haying, and Mr. Smith, his son, and several extra 
 hands were hurrying to get the hay under cover while 
 the dry weather continued. 
 
 When the good woman went below, she found James 
 hastily eating his luncheon in the kitchen, her husband 
 having finished his and returned to his work. 
 
 "I suppose the horses are all in use," said she, hesi 
 tatingly. 
 
 "Yes, mother, all in the hay-carts. It looks showery, 
 and we have three or four loads well dried." He held 
 the bowl of milk to his lips, drained it, and then set 
 back his chair with a heavy sigh. 
 
 As he took his straw hat from the hook, he caught a 
 glimpse of her face as she was thinking, " Perhaps this 
 evening will do." He saw she had been weeping, and 
 coining directly to her he asked, in a hoarse voice, 
 "What is it, mother? Is Juliette " 
 
 " She is miserable this afternoon," she began, inter 
 rupting him, "and wants to see Mr. Allen." 
 
 James turned from his mother to the window, not 
 liking to have even her eye witness his distress. Pres 
 ently, with his back turned toward her, he said, "I'll 
 have the carriage at the door in fifteen minutes."
 
 JULIETTE. 187 
 
 He spoke indistinctly, and then, with a heavy sigh, 
 passed into the shed. 
 
 His mother followed him, and put her hand softly on 
 his shoulder. "It troubles me," said she, "to have 
 you take this so to heart. I wish your love could be 
 returned, my son, but I'm afraid for you. If she 
 lives, which to me is doubtful, she will be in a different 
 society from ours." 
 
 " Don't ! don't, mother ! " he cried, his face growing 
 very red, and then suddenly becoming pale ; "you 
 don't know how you pain me ; " and he put his hand to 
 his heart as if he could quiet its wild beating. " If it 
 is as you imagine I must pray for strength to bear it ; but 
 I can't stop to think of myself when she's suffering." 
 
 By this time he had removed his overalls, and said, 
 " I'll take one of the horses out of the cart and slip on 
 the harness, and then I'll dress me. Don't tell her it's 
 inconvenient, 'cause I can go as well as not." 
 
 With a silent petition for her poor boy, whose un 
 requited love for their suffering guest she had long 
 suspected, Mrs. Smith returned to the chamber to assist 
 Juliette in preparing for. the ride. 
 
 "The air will do you good, at any rate," she said, 
 tenderly, as she stood watching the young girl bathing 
 her eyes, "and Mr. Allen is a kind man." 
 
 " Yes, he is ; but not so kind as you are ; " and the 
 tears began to flow again. "Sometimes I'm afraid 
 your patience will wear out." 
 
 " When it does, I'll let you know," returned Mrs. 
 Smith, trying not to appear moved.
 
 188 JULIETTE. 
 
 At this moment Maria's voice was heard out of 
 doors, 
 
 "Are you go ing to the store, James?" 
 
 "I'm going to the village," was his grave reply. 
 
 " Why ! father said he couldn't possibly spare the 
 horse to go." 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Well, I'll run and get my bonnet, for I'm going 
 with you. I want some thread." 
 
 The reply was in a low tone, but, in the stillness 
 about the farm-house, was plainly heard. 
 
 "I'll get some thread for you, or carry you this even 
 ing, but you can't go now." 
 
 By this time he had tied the horse to the post, and 
 ran to the sink to wash. 
 
 **I want four spools of number fifty," responded 
 Maria, seeing from his grave look it was no use to urge 
 him ; " but I may as well write it to Dudley, you'll be 
 sure to forget it." 
 
 "I ought not to go," sighed Juliette. "I'll wait till 
 another time." 
 
 " No, no ; he'll be ready in a minute. It'll be a 
 pleasure to him to do anything for your comfort ; " and 
 with a sigh for her son, Mrs. Smith kissed Juliette's 
 cheek. 
 
 The young farmer brought the carriage to the door 
 a few seconds after the expiration of the fifteen min 
 utes. He glanced anxiously in the young girl's face 
 as he tenderly lifted her into the vehicle, but did not 
 speak.
 
 JULIETTE. 189 
 
 She smiled feebly. "I'm afraid I'm giving you a 
 great deal of trouble," said she. 
 
 " I'd go to the ends of the earth if 'twould give back 
 your health and peace." He checked himself, his face 
 as red as fire, while he added, "I mean, we all feel for 
 you, Miss Edwards, though we don't rightly under 
 stand your troubles." 
 
 She was silent and embarrassed for a moment ; then, 
 turning her moistened eyes to his with a look of sor 
 row that penetrated his soul, she said softly, " Mine is 
 a sad story. I will ask your mother to tell it to you 
 some time." 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm a dreadful bungler," exclaimed 
 the young man with an air of self-reproach. " I didn't 
 mean to pry into your secrets. I was only trying to 
 say how much we all sympathize with you. Why, the 
 first look I had into your eyes, I saw sorrow there. 
 But after a while you seemed happier, and I thought 
 maybe you'd get used to us, and mother's nursing 
 would do you good. It seemed hard to think such a 
 one as you should be in want of friends to care for 
 you." 
 
 James stopped. His feelings were carrying him too 
 far. Not for the world would he intrude his own sor 
 rows upon her ; and so he ended his sentence rather 
 awkwardly, by saying, " I hope Mr. Allen will be able 
 to comfort you." 
 
 "Thank you," she answered, with more warmth. "I 
 am grateful for your kindness, though I may not appear 
 so. I have thanked my heavenly Father, every day
 
 190 JULIETTE. 
 
 since I came to Stamford, that he has given me such 
 kind friends. I tremble to think what I should have 
 done without your mother and all of you." 
 
 Oh, how earnestly the young farmer longed to clasp 
 that little hand lying so passively on her lap, and 
 pledge his life to the work of making her happy ! His 
 athletic frame shook with the fierce struggle to control 
 himself. Fortunately, as she sat by his side, she did 
 not notice his emotion, and in silence they rode on 
 until they reached Mr. Allen's gate. 
 
 The pastor happened to be sitting near the window, 
 and came forward eagerly to meet them. " I am glad 
 to see you, my child," he said, in an impressive tone. 
 " I was only waiting for the sun to go down a little 
 before I started to walk to the farm ; but I'm glad you 
 came. Come in, come in. Two miles is something 
 of a walk for me. Walk into the parlor, Mr. Smith." 
 
 "No, I thank you, sir; I've an errand at the store, 
 and I'll call again in a few minutes." 
 
 Mr. Allen went to his study, after giving his 
 young friend a chair, and presently returned with a 
 newspaper. "I can imagine," he began, "that you 
 have come to tell me your disappointment at not receiv 
 ing a letter ;" and he gazed in her face in a manner she 
 did not exactly understand. 
 
 "Partly that, sir," she replied, in some confusion. 
 
 "Yes, I supposed so. Well, after dinner, I took up 
 this * New York Journal of Commerce,' supposing it the 
 last number, and read on some time before I noticed
 
 JULIETTE. 191 
 
 my mistake. I was just about to throw it aside when 
 my eye caught the following paragraph." 
 
 "Stop a minute ! Oh, stop !" cried Juliette, every 
 particle of color leaving her face and lips, as the horri 
 ble fear that her father was dead, rushed into her 
 mind. 
 
 "No, let me tell you, now. It is not so bad as you 
 imagine, my poor child. It will relieve you to hear it." 
 And as she faintly bowed her assent, he read, 
 
 "We regret to say that Edward Fearing, Esq., hav 
 ing recovered from his late illness, has sailed for Liver 
 pool in the Astracan, Capt. Spooner, with the intention 
 of remaining abroad for some years. His son, Mr. 
 Henry Fearing, accompanied him. Mr. Fearing, Sen 
 ior, is one of our most successful merchants, and his 
 well-known benevolence toward the public charities of 
 our city, as well as his high integrity and shrewdness 
 in business, render his departure a serious calamity." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed the excited girl fervently, 
 clasping her hands ; " I feared he was not living." 
 
 " I ought to have been more cautious in telling you. 
 This is dated some weeks back, so that your letter did 
 not reach him, but will doubtless be forwarded to him 
 abroad." 
 
 "Yes, sir; he has a confidential clerk that attends to 
 all such business. Oh, you can scarcely imagine what 
 a relief it is to me ! I feel almost sure he will forgive 
 me and arrange some way for me to join him." 
 
 A bright, beautiful blush mantled her cheek at the 
 thought of meeting Horace, also, and with an animation
 
 192 JULIETTE. 
 
 he had never seen in her before, she said, playfully, " I 
 should like to keep this paper if you have done with it. 
 It does my father no more than justice." 
 
 " Certainly, take it and welcome. Happy days are 
 in store for you, I do not doubt." He then, in a 
 fatherly way, inquired the state of her heart in regard 
 to the vows she was soon to take upon herself. 
 
 She humbly related the experience of the last few 
 days, received his sympathy and encouragement to 
 persevere in aiming after a high degree of holiness, and 
 then, perceiving James driving up to the gate, hastened 
 to meet him, bidding the pastor adieu in quite a cheer 
 ful voice.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 11 Not rural sights alone, but rural sounds 
 Exhilarate the spirits, and restore 
 The tone of languid nature." 
 
 ONE glance into Juliette's beaming face served to 
 show her companion that whatever her cause of 
 anxiety might have been, it was removed, and his 
 honest countenance at once expressed his pleasure. 
 
 " How quiet and beautiful the country is ! " she 
 exclaimed. " See how regularly those men work, cut 
 ting hay !" 
 
 "They are cradling oats," answered James, laugh 
 ing. "Did you never see any such work before? 
 We have a fine piece of oats to get in when our haying 
 is done. You must come out and see us." 
 
 "I should like to," she answered, leaning from the 
 carriage to watch them ; " it looks so prettily." 
 
 "Farming is a first-rate business to my mind," 
 remarked the young man, enthusiastically. " You know 
 Adam was a farmer ; and I've sometimes thought, if 
 Eve hadn't eaten the apple there wouldn't have been 
 any other business done." 
 
 Juliette laughed. "I don't know how that would 
 have been," she replied. "I'm no theologian." 
 
 17 193
 
 194 JULIETTE. 
 
 Mrs. Smith was watching for them, and could 
 scarcely believe her eyes when she saw James, a broad 
 smile brightening his face, jump from the carriage and 
 lift Juliette carefully down the step, while she was 
 speaking in a tone of cheerfulness they had not heard 
 from her for weeks. 
 
 "You are better, I'm sure," she said, warmly. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " cried the grateful girl, cordially 
 returning the woman's kiss. "If you will come to my 
 room I will tell you about it." 
 
 " Mother I " called James from the back door, " will 
 you step this way a minute ? " 
 
 She ran to answer the summons, saying, as she went, 
 "I'll be up there presently." 
 
 "I've got something here," said the young man, giv 
 ing her a small parcel enclosed in a paper bag, " that I 
 want to get you to cook for supper. A man came 
 along with pigeons while I was at the store, and I 
 thought maybe a bit of the breast would relish a little." 
 
 " Oh, I understand now ! " she exclaimed, her look of 
 wonder changing to one of merriment ; " I understand, 
 and I'll cook part of one to tempt her ; she never eats 
 much more than a bird, and I've sometimes been afraid 
 our great dishes of meat take away her appetite." 
 
 " Well, mother, do what you please with them, only 
 don't let her know " 
 
 His words were suddenly brought to an end by see 
 ing Juliette standing close behind his mother. The 
 color flew to his face, and "he hastily retreated, just as
 
 JULIETTE. 195 
 
 she was about to thank him for her ride, which, on 
 alighting from the carriage, she had forgotten to do. 
 
 Though she had heard his words, she seemed not to 
 have comprehended his meaning, and waiting while 
 Mrs. Smith laid the paper parcel in the ice-chest, she 
 followed her to the chamber. Here she related what 
 the reader is already acquainted with, and read the par 
 agraph before alluded to, omitting only the name of 
 her father. 
 
 Mrs. Smith was sanguine that her letter would be 
 answered, and that all would come out right in the end. 
 "I shall try not to be selfish ; " she said, " but it would 
 be hard for all of us to part with you. " Then kissing 
 the bright cheek, on which the tear of filial love still 
 glistened, she exclaimed, " God will order all for your 
 good, my dear child ; and who knows but your con 
 sistent adherence to your religion may win him to 
 Christ?" 
 
 " Oh, how happy I should be ! " was the delighted 
 response. 
 
 They were interrupted by voices in the entry, and 
 presently Maria came in. " Why, have you returned ? " 
 she inquired, in surprise. "Where is James?" 
 
 "In the field, by this time, I'll warrant," replied his 
 mother, with a laugh. " He'll do a day's work between 
 this and dark. He's a smart lad to work, if he is my 
 son." 
 
 " He's got a large heart and a warm one," earnestly 
 responded Juliette. " I shall never forget his kindness 
 to me."
 
 196 JULIETTE. 
 
 "Susan," called out Maria, "they've come home. 
 Juliette's in here." 
 
 "How much better you do look ! " cried Susan, em 
 bracing her affectionately. "What have you been 
 doing to yourself ? You're so changed I can scarcely 
 believe it's our pale, sad girl. I move James carry 
 you to ride every day ; " and she glanced archly in her 
 companion's face. 
 
 "I must wait till haying is over," replied Juliette, 
 innocently. 
 
 " Do you like thimbleberries ? " inquired Maria. 
 
 "Yes, very much. We used to have them at Mrs. 
 Osborn's school." 
 
 " Did you go there ? " eagerly asked Susan. " Why 
 it's close by Stamford, and father thought some of 
 sending us, but he found it was too expensive." 
 
 "I was with Mrs. Osborn several years," remarked 
 Juliette, with a slight blush. "There was a thick 
 hedge of thimbleberry bushes about the house, and the 
 girls used to pick them when they pleased." 
 
 "They are very thick back of our barn," rejoined 
 Maria. "We've gathered two or three quarts this 
 afternoon. I wonder whether James brought me 
 anything from Dudley." 
 
 " He laid a small bundle on the kitchen table," sug 
 gested Mrs. Smith ; " perhaps that is for you." 
 
 " Susan, you run down and get it ; that's a good girl," 
 said her sister, throwing herself lazily into a large 
 chair. 
 
 " I don't know about that," muttered the other.
 
 JULIETTE. 197 
 
 " When one has a beau she ought to pay the penalty. 
 I shall expect to do my own running when I have 
 one." 
 
 "Is this the bundle ?" asked Juliette, who, unper- 
 ceived, had slipped from the room and brought it from 
 the table. 
 
 "I'm sorry you went," said Maria. "Yes, it's my 
 thread." 
 
 A tiny note dropped to the floor, which Juliette re 
 stored with an arch glance. 
 
 "I wonder how it feels to be in love," exclaimed 
 Susan, laughing. 
 
 "Ask James, and perhaps he will tell you," re 
 marked Maria, gravely. 
 
 Susan shook her head with an earnest glance toward 
 Juliette. "Perhaps he wont," she retorted, quickly. 
 
 " Girls, don't you want to go out and rake after the 
 cart?" called Mrs. Smith, from the foot of the stairs. 
 " There's a shower coming up." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, we'll come ; " and they were soon on 
 the way to the meadow, as the large field was called, 
 and which was but a short distance in front of the 
 house. 
 
 It was a novel and interesting scene for Juliette. 
 Large cocks of fragrant hay were scattered over the 
 field, which men were hastily loading on the large racks. 
 They approached one where James was at work, stand 
 ing in the middle of the cart, and packing the hay in 
 place as fast as two men could pitch on. He called 
 out merrily to his sisters to take the rakes from some 
 
 17*
 
 198 JULIETTE. 
 
 men who were following after, gathering up the small 
 locks left behind. 
 
 They did so, and entered into the sport with so much 
 enthusiasm, trying to see who could gather the most, 
 that Juliette began to long for a rake to imitate them. 
 
 The men immediately left for another part of the 
 field, to assist Mr. Smith in loading his cart. 
 
 The sun was now clouded, so that it was delightful 
 to be out ; and our young friend, relieved from the 
 dreadful burden which had oppressed her, gayly fol 
 lowed from one cock to another, until the cart was 
 filled to its utmost capacity. 
 
 " I hope James wont ride on that high load to the 
 barn," she exclaimed, as one of the men took hold of 
 the bridle to lead the horse away. 
 
 " Oh, he's used to it ! " responded Susan. " See how 
 straight he stands, scarcely touching his pitchfork." 
 
 "It don't seem safe to me, and I don't want to see 
 him do it ; " and Juliette turned away, and followed the 
 girls to their father's cart. 
 
 The men were working with all their might, casting 
 frequent and anxious glances toward the western sky, 
 where a black cloud was gradually spreading along 
 the horizon. 
 
 " If it'll hold off half an hour more, I think we shall 
 be safe," said Mr. Smith. "James is wonderfully 
 quick at unloading." 
 
 "He works this afternoon as if he was possessed," 
 answered one of the men. " It e'enamost takes away 
 my breath to see him fly from one end of the cart to
 
 JULIETTE. 199 
 
 / 
 
 the other, calling out 'more here,' and 'more there;' 
 and then his load looks like a picter when it's done ; 
 no great gouches sticking out ; all even and smooth." 
 
 " He takes to farm work as natural as a mother takes 
 to her own child," rejoined the farmer. "There, Su 
 san, is a bunch behind you." 
 
 " I wish I'd worn my gloves," exclaimed the young 
 girl ; " I've a great blister already." 
 
 "Take mine," cried Juliette, pulling them from her 
 hands. Susan laughed as the delicate articles were 
 held up before her. 
 
 " They wouldn't last a minute," she said, gayly. 
 
 " Well, then, I'll run and get yours." And she went 
 hastily toward the house. 
 
 On her way she met James returning for his last 
 load. 
 
 He bowed and smiled, but passed without speak 
 ing. 
 
 "Are they almost done? " inquired Mrs. Smith, who 
 was putting a large glass dish full of thimbleberries 
 on the supper-table. 
 
 " Only ten cocks more," answered Juliette. " They 
 are hurrying as fast as they can. I want Susan's 
 gloves." 
 
 Mr. Smith drove hastily to the barn, hoping to be 
 able to unload by the time James came with the re 
 mainder, which, if necessary, could be left inside the 
 barn on the cart till morning. 
 
 " Oh, I do hope they'll get it all in ! " cried Juliette,
 
 200 JULIETTE. 
 
 as she gave Susan the gloves ; " I'm afraid my going to 
 the village detained them." 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself about that," answered 
 James, from the top of the cart. " Ten minutes more 
 and we're all right." 
 
 M I wish I could help, too." 
 
 He only laughed. "Here, Tom; throw a fork full 
 to the middle. That's right ! Now in front, Mr. 
 Hanson ! Drive on for the last cock. Whew ! there's 
 a drop of rain. Hurry up, my good fellows. We'll 
 have time to cool off afterward. Here goes ! " And 
 the sweet-scented hay flew through the air, while 
 Maria and Susan ran here and ran there ; Juliette, in 
 her enthusiasm, catching a bunch in her arms and 
 holding it up for the man to take on his fork. 
 
 "I guess miss was made for a farmer's wife," said 
 Tom, with a cunning wink at his young master. 
 
 "Drive on," shouted James, sternly, his color 
 growing some shades deeper. 
 
 Five minutes more, and the horses, all in a foam, 
 drove into the barn, just as the windows of heaven 
 were opened and the rain began to descend in tor 
 rents. 
 
 The men threw themselves on the hay, perfectly 
 exhausted, and began to wipe the perspiration from 
 their foreheads. 
 
 " I call that lucky, Mr. Smith," said the man named 
 Hanson. '"T would have been a terrible pity to have 
 had that well-dried hay get wet."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " A pure heart, 
 
 That burns to ashes, yet conceals its pain, 
 For fear it mar its hopeless source of love, 
 Is not to be despised, or lightly held." 
 
 WITHIN the house the table was set for supper, 
 and a most inviting meal it was, too. Fried 
 fish, crisp and brown, early potatoes, srnoking-hot frit 
 ters, thimbleberries and cream, while directly in front 
 of Juliette's plate was a tiny, covered dish, an object 
 of curiosity to all present. 
 
 But I am too fast for my story, for I would not 
 have the reader suppose that the good matron would 
 run the risk of her tempting viands growing cold, 
 while her family were making ready for the meal. 
 Please imagine, then, the fish sizzling and crackling in 
 the frying-pan, the mealy potatoes bursting open in 
 the oven, while Maria, taking an old-fashioned horn 
 from a high shelf, exclaimed, " Juliette, come and 
 hear me call the people from the barn." 
 
 The well-known signal was instantly responded to 
 by James, who appeared at the barn-door, and shouted 
 back, "Well done, Miss Smith." 
 
 201
 
 202 JULIETTE. 
 
 " Come right in," screamed his sister, at the top of 
 her voice. " Supper is ready, and for the men, 
 too." 
 
 She had scarcely finished speaking when an open 
 wagon whirled around the corner of the house. 
 Dudley, who was wet to the skin, making all haste for 
 one of the large horse-sheds near the barn. 
 
 The rain still descended in torrents, while small 
 extempore rivulets were running swiftly by the sides 
 of the road, and standing in huge puddles near the 
 doors. Looking from the window, the girls laughed 
 merrily as one of the men after another, starting from 
 the barn-door, rushed toward the house, where they 
 stood in the woodshed shaking the rain from their 
 wet garments. 
 
 James, unwilling to expose himself in such an 
 awkward plight, made a dive for the back stairs, to 
 his chamber, from which in an incredibly short time 
 he reappeared in company with Dudley, arrayed in a 
 clean suit, and ready for a good laugh over their 
 adventures. 
 
 They were greeted, as they probably expected to be, 
 with a shout of mirth, at the ill-fitting dress of Dudley, 
 who had donned a pair of James's thin pantaloons, a 
 thick, winter vest, and Mr. Smith's long-tailed go-to- 
 meeting coat. His collar, which he generally wore 
 turned loosely over his cravat, now stood up, shining 
 and erect, to the imminent peril of his ears. 
 
 Marching along in a stiff, dignified manner, he en 
 deavored to take Maria's hand ; but she snatched it
 
 JULIETTE. 203 
 
 away, and sank back on the sofa nearly convulsed 
 with laughter. 
 
 Susan and Juliette, too, joined in the mirth; the 
 latter especially entering into the joke more heartily 
 than they had ever seen her before. 
 
 "I never saw you look so handsome, Dudley," cried 
 Susan, archly; "I advise you to borrow that suit to 
 wear on a certain grand occasion, it becomes you so 
 well." 
 
 The mother's voice was now heard proclaiming that 
 supper was on the table, and an additional plate being 
 laid for Dudley, Mr. Smith invoked a blessing, and 
 they all took their seats. 
 
 "What's in this little dish, mother?" inquired 
 Susan, pointing to the one by Juliette's plate. 
 
 " Open it, and see, child. There, Juliette, is the 
 breast of a pigeon, which was sent to you with a request 
 that I would cook it nicely." 
 
 "For me, Mrs. Smith ! " cried the young girl, open 
 ing wide her eyes, and glancing from one to another 
 around the table. "Not for me alone?" 
 
 "Yes, no one is to taste but you." 
 
 James's eyes were fixed intently on his plate, his 
 cheeks and even his forehead intensely flushed ; but 
 that, of course, was the result of his violent exercise. 
 
 Susan, wicked girl, pinched his arm under the 
 table, and at length burst into a merry laugh. 
 
 "I can guess who sent it," said Juliette. "It's 
 perfectly delicious. 'Tvvas good Mr. Allen. He was 
 coming to see me this afternoon if I had not gone
 
 204 JULIETTE. 
 
 there. But anything would taste good to-night, I'm so 
 hungry." 
 
 Mrs. Smith drew down her mouth, while the face 
 of her son preserved, as it had from the beginning, 
 the most imperturbable gravity. 
 
 The family now addressed themselves with praise 
 worthy diligence to the discussion of the meal ; and 
 then Susan as usual passed her father the family 
 Bible, for their devotions. 
 
 At the close of the evening, Juliette; after reading 
 once more the scrap of paper which she had cut from 
 the " Journal of Commerce," sang in a low voice her 
 favorite hymn, 
 
 " How sweet to be allowed to pray 
 
 To God the Holy One; 
 With filial love and trust to say, 
 O God, thy will be done ! 
 
 " We in these sacred words can find 
 
 A cure for every ill ; 
 
 They calm and soothe the troubled mind, 
 And bid all care be still. 
 
 " Oh, let that will which gave me breath, 
 
 And an immortal soul, 
 In joy or grief, in life or death, 
 My every wish control 1 
 
 " Oh, could my soul thus ever pray, 
 
 Thus imitate thy Son ! 
 Teach me, O God, with truth to say, 
 ' Thy will, not mine, be done.' " 
 
 For a long time our heroine had not enjoyed so re 
 freshing a slumber, as followed this, to her, eventful 
 day. She awoke feeling more calm and trustful in re-
 
 JULIETTE. 205 
 
 gard to the future ; but with an evident quickening of 
 the pulse, when the possible result of her joining her 
 brother Horace flashed through her mind. She lay in 
 the early morning light, her eyes fixed on one of the 
 blue flowers on the wall ; but her memory far away in 
 the past, gathering up all the precious assurances of 
 his affection. Stamford, and the scenes of the past 
 months were swept away at a breath ; and she was 
 once more sitting by his side as on the last evening 
 before he left the country. Again she heard him say 
 with a flushed face, " No, Juliette, I cannot tell you 
 all my reasons for wishing to postpone my departure." 
 And again she asked herself what he could mean by 
 this, want of frankness. 
 
 "I wonder where he is nowV' she said half aloud, 
 sighing as she recalled her truant thoughts, " and 
 whether he thinks of me ? I suppose long ere this he 
 has made a profession of religion. Let me see, what 
 did he say about it?" She sat up in bed and reached 
 from the table at her side a small box containing all 
 the letters she had ever received from him. Smiling, 
 as she opened one and another, she came at last to the 
 epistle she sought. "How much he thinks of his 
 aunt ! I wish I knew her. Oh, how delightful it 
 would be to travel with such a party ! Dear Horace, 
 what a kind brother you have always been to me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Smith's voice at the foot of the stairs calling, 
 
 "Maria! Susan!" interrupted her pleasant reveries. 
 
 Hastily putting the precious epistles in their place, she 
 
 locked the box and returned it to the drawer, woiider- 
 
 18
 
 206 JULIETTE. 
 
 ing, while she took her bath, what was the cause of 
 her father's illness, and whether it had been severe. 
 
 The girls were talking earnestly in their own room, 
 and Juliette, quickly dressing herself, invoked God's 
 blessing on all the labors of the day, and then went 
 below to lay the table, a light task she had insisted 
 on performing. 
 
 Mrs. Smith, who was busy in preparing breakfast, 
 greeted her with a cordial smile, and asked whether 
 she had seen or heard the girls. 
 
 "I think they'll be down soon," answered Juliette ; 
 "I have heard their voices for some time." 
 
 " Mr. Smith and James have been mowing since four 
 o'clock," added the good woman. " It's going to l?e a 
 beautiful hay-day, and they expect to get along finely 
 with their work. Breakfast wasn't quite ready when 
 they came in, because I didn't expect them so soon, so 
 James went to pitching off the hay left on the cart. I 
 suppose 'twill sound kind of proud for me to say it, 
 but there isn't another in the whole town will corne up 
 to him for driving work, or for planning it either. But 
 I do wonder where those lazy girls are ? " 
 
 Before Juliette had time to reply, a dreadful shriek 
 of distress, folio wed by loud, confused voices, was heard 
 from the barn, and presently Mr. Smith and one of 
 the men were seen bringing poor James toward the 
 house. 
 
 "What is it? Oh, what has happened?" inquired 
 the mother, her heart sinking with fear, as she beheld 
 the deadly pallor of her beloved son.
 
 JULIETTE. 207 
 
 "Not much, mother, I hope," answered the young 
 man, speaking with great difficulty. 
 
 "Have the bed ready in the room below," cried the 
 farmer, sharply ; " we must lay him there till the doctor 
 comes. Oh, dear ! " 
 
 "Where is he hurt? " asked Juliette, timidly speak 
 ing to the man. 
 
 " Can't tell, miss ; he's smashed up generally. He 
 fell .backwards off the load on to the barn floor." 
 
 The young girl felt sick and faint ; but struggling 
 for composure, she ran to assist Mrs. Smith in relieving 
 the poor sufferer. 
 
 Before they had crossed the parlor, poor James 
 groaned as if in great pain, and they were obliged to 
 lift him quickty upon the bed, when, with a hoarse 
 rattle in his throat, his eyes became fixed. He had 
 fainted. 
 
 "Jump on to the horse, Tom, and ride for the doc 
 tor ! " called out Mr. Smith, in a loud, sharp voice ; 
 " ride for your life. Mother, have you got the cam 
 phor ! Oh, dear, he looks like death ! Where are the 
 girls? They might be bathing his hands." 
 
 Maria and Susan, hearing the unusual noise, hastened 
 below. "What's the matter? Is anybody hurt? I 
 smell medicine." They advanced to the bedroom 
 where Mrs. Smith was holding a bottle of hartshorn to 
 her son's nostrils ; while Juliette, tears streaming un 
 consciously down her cheeks, was timidly chafing 
 James' hard, bronzed hand. 
 
 Mr. Smith, overcome with grief, had retired to the
 
 208 JULIETTE. 
 
 parlor, where he was weeping aloud, " O James ! 
 James ! I'm afraid you've got your death-blow ! Oh, 
 dear ! Never father had such a son, so smart to work, 
 and with such a tender heart. Spare him, O God ! 
 Take him not away in his youth ! Oh ! oh ! what shall 
 I do? what shall I do?" 
 
 Trembling with anxiety, Mrs. Smith bent earnestly 
 over her boy, when, with a slight contraction of the 
 brow, and a long-drawn sigh, he feebly opened his 
 eyes. 
 
 " He's reviving," cried Juliette, tears gushing from 
 her eyes. " He knows us ! " 
 
 Even at such a moment a thrill of joy ran through 
 the young man's frame as he met her glance of tender 
 interest, and became conscious that she held his hand 
 in hers. A groan of distress, forced from him by his 
 terrible pain, followed. The pallor about his mouth 
 increased, and he seemed about to faint again. "Is 
 the doctor coming?" he asked feebly, gasping at 
 every breath, and, in spite of all his efforts to. repress 
 them, his groans filled the room. 
 
 Susan, crying aloud, ran to the door to watch for the 
 doctor, while Maria, hastening to the parlor to beg her 
 father to be more composed, found Juliette sitting on 
 the stairs almost ready to faint with terror. 
 
 Lifting up her heart to God for strength to meet this 
 terrible calamity, Mrs. Smith, pale, but outwardly 
 calm, continued vigorously to chafe the cold limbs from 
 which life seemed almost departed. 
 
 Susan ran like one distracted from the bedroom to
 
 JULIETTE. 209 
 
 the door, and back again, in the vain expectation of 
 seeing the doctor's buggy approach. 
 
 Mr. Smith at last grew so impatient for his arrival, 
 that, after one glance at his suffering boy, he set out 
 with rapid strides for the village. 
 
 It was nearly an hour after the sad accident that 
 the anxious watcher perceived a carriage dashing furi 
 ously down the hill, and, as it drew nearer, recognized 
 it as the doctor's well-known vehicle. 
 
 "Come quickly! I'll tie the horse," she cried, 
 earnestly ; "James is dreadfully hurt." 
 
 "Not so badly, perhaps, as you imagine," he an 
 swered, taking his box of medicines and making his 
 way quickly to the side of the bed. 
 
 " We're glad enough to see you," said Mrs. Smith. 
 " lie seems terrible faint. I've had as much as I could 
 do to keep life in him." 
 
 " Have you any brandy in the house ? " 
 
 " I think there is a little left in the phial." 
 
 James, in the midst of his distress, heard his ques 
 tion and what was passing, and made a dissenting 
 motion with his hand. 
 
 " He means to say he has promised not to taste it," 
 explained his mother. " He belongs to the Sons of 
 Temperance." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried the doctor, " I'll absolve him 
 now r . A few drops may be necessary to save his life." 
 
 Maria, who had run to get the phial, now presented 
 it to the doctor, who gave him a teaspoonful, clear. 
 
 "Now," said he, in an encouraging tone, "some of 
 
 18*
 
 210 JULIETTE. 
 
 you must go out of the room ; I must make an exami 
 nation. Where's your pain, James?" 
 
 Susan and her sister ran away just as their father, 
 accompanied by Dudley, drove into the yard. 
 
 Tom, after going for the doctor, had called at the 
 store to tell the sad news, and the young man, leaving 
 his business with his clerk, made all haste to go to the 
 farm and offer his services. On the way he overtook 
 Mr. Smith, who related the particulars of the accident. 
 
 "After mowing an hour or two," he 'began, "we 
 thought 'twas breakfast-time and went up to the house. 
 Mother said 'twasu't quite ready ; so I went out to see 
 to the cattle, and James, hating to lose a minute, said 
 he'd be pitching off the load we got in before the 
 shower yesterday. He ran up the ladder to the mow, 
 jumped on the cart, and had not thrown off but three 
 or four forks full, when I heard a terrible noise, as if 
 the barn was coming down. Tom screamed for help. 
 I ran in to the barn floor, and there was my poor boy 
 lying just as he fell, backwards off the cart, his fork 
 across his feet. He lay perfectly still, and my heart 
 stopped beating, for I thought he was dead. I guess 
 my scream of terror brought him to a little, for he 
 opened his eyes and gazed about kind of wild." The 
 father covered his face with his hands and groaned 
 aloud, while his companion, feeling there was little 
 comfort he could offer, rode silently by his side. 
 
 It seemed a long, weary time to the excited, anxious 
 group outside the bedroom, before Mrs. Smith, who 
 had insisted on remaining near her sou, appeared among
 
 JULIETTE. 211 
 
 them to say the doctor thought a broken shoulder and 
 two broken ribs was the extent of the injury. The 
 setting of the shoulder was very painful for the time ; 
 but now the poor fellow^, was greatly relieved, and 
 would be glad to see them. 
 
 The grateful father hastened to the sick room, his 
 heart overflowing with love and praise to his heavenly 
 Father, who had so graciously spared his son's life, 
 while the mother made a slice of toast, which, with a 
 cup of coffee, the physician had ordered for his patient. 
 
 Susan, after running to Juliette's room to convey the 
 joyful tidings, set the long delayed breakfast on the 
 table. 
 
 " Where is Miss Edwards?" inquired James, as an 
 hour or two later his mother entered his room. 
 
 " Poor child ! she looks terribly pale and drooping. 
 She ran off while the doctor was here, 'cause she 
 couldn't bear to hear you groan. She's in the kitchen 
 now, helping the girls. They thought I could do bet 
 ter in here." 
 
 " Would you mind, mother, asking her in here a 
 minute ? " 
 
 She glanced anxiously at his pale face, tinged with 
 the faintest flush, and then went out to do as he re 
 quested. She sighed, however, as she said to herself, 
 " He's building hopes on her feeling so much for him ; 
 but it's no use. I wish I might tell him what I know of 
 her history." 
 
 When she entered the kitchen Juliette was shelling 
 some peas. The mother herself was embarrassed, in
 
 212 JULIETTE. 
 
 making the request, but after a minute said, "I must 
 be working over my butter, girls, or I can't do it to 
 day. Perhaps you will sit with James a little while," 
 she added, turning to Juliette. 
 
 The young girl looked frightened. "What if he 
 should faint again?" she asked, quickly. 
 
 " Oh, there's no danger of that, my dear child ! 
 When he lies still, he says he don't suffer much. 'Twas 
 his broken shoulder that distressed him so ; and the 
 doctor said the way he was laid on the bed made it ten 
 times worse. You may take your peas in there, if 
 you'd rather." 
 
 Juliette rose, though rather reluctantly. The vision 
 of his pallid, ghastly countenance was still before her. 
 Mrs. Smith accompanied her, carrying the pan, which 
 she set down just inside the bedroom door. 
 
 "If he wants anything, speak to me," she said, and 
 then, smoothing back his damp hair from his forehead, 
 returned to her work. 
 
 The young girl timidly approached the bed. " How 
 do you feel?" she asked, speaking scarcely above her 
 breath. 
 
 "Very comfortable and very grateful," was his 
 gentle reply. 
 
 She stood a moment looking at his shoulder, which 
 was tightly bandaged. "Doesn't it pain you? "she 
 inquired. 
 
 "Not much. The doctor relieved me very quickly." 
 He colored, and tried to say something, but had not 
 the courage.
 
 JULIETTE. 213 
 
 "I'll shell the peas here, if it wont disturb you," 
 she added, in a more cheerful tone. 
 
 "No, let me shell them; I can do them easily with 
 my right hand." 
 
 She laughed. " No, indeed ! Your mother put me 
 here to watch you, and I shall be a very strict nurse. 
 You must not stir, nor scarcely breathe, while I stay. 
 You see, I mean to do all I can to help you get well." 
 
 " Juliette ! " 
 
 He had never called her so before, and she smiled as 
 she looked up from her work. 
 
 "You can't imagine what' a comfort it was to me, this 
 morning, to have you here. I couldn't speak then, but 
 I've been wanting ever since to tell you so." 
 
 She cast down her eyes, and blushed deeply ; not so 
 much at the words, but at the look which accompanied 
 them. 
 
 "It was terrible to see you suffer so," she answered, 
 softly. 
 
 Her heart beat quickly, and she began to be impa 
 tient for Mrs. Smith or one of the girls to take her 
 place. She went on steadily with her work, however, 
 not venturing to raise her eyes. 
 
 He seemed more than content to watch her varying 
 color, and built airy castles upon her seeming confu 
 sion, which, alas ! were destined to fall to the ground. 
 
 r How do you get on with your patient ? " queried 
 Susan, coming softly behind her young friend. 
 
 " You must ask him. I'm afraid I am not a very 
 good nurse."
 
 214 JULIETTE. 
 
 " I should be content to be sick all my life, with such 
 care, if that was the will of God," returned James, 
 warmly. 
 
 Juliette was really distressed, and blamed herself 
 for the answer she had given. She took up her pan 
 and quietly went out of the room, leaving Susan in 
 charge of her brother. 
 
 From this time, though she frequently visited him 
 for a moment, it was always in company with one of 
 the family, and her manner, without being reserved, 
 was such that he had not courage to tell her one word 
 of that love of which his heart was so full. 
 
 On Sabbath morning, Mr. Smith, in his prayer, sup 
 plicated special grace for her who was on that clay to 
 take upon herself the vows of God, and to partake of 
 the Saviour's body broken for sin, in commemoration 
 of his dying love. 
 
 Since James's accident prayer had been offered in the 
 room adjoining his. Juliette was much affected, and, 
 as they arose, was about to retire, when he called her 
 by name. 
 
 She hesitated a jnoment, and then, seeing his mother 
 was with him, approached the bed. 
 
 "It's the greatest trial I've had yet," he said, deeply 
 moved, "not to go to church to-day. But though I'm 
 obliged to lie in bed at home, my heart will be there, 
 and I shall pray that it may be a day of peace to your 
 soul." 
 
 His countenance was lighted with heavenly fervor,
 
 JULIETTE. 215 
 
 as if the spirit of that peace which passeth all under 
 standing was dwelling in him. 
 
 Her own face reflected the light from his, as she 
 earnestly uttered her thanks. She retired to her own 
 apartment, feeling that such prayers would prove 
 indeed a blessing. 
 
 The day was one never to be forgotten. As she re 
 ceived the elements of her Saviour's love, and realized 
 that His blood had been shed for her salvation, her 
 heart overflowed with gratitude. She fervently re 
 newed her vows to him and to his service, and con 
 sidered no sacrifice too great, to be counted among his 
 disciples. 
 
 The distance was so great, and the intermission so 
 short, that the family from the farm usually remained 
 until after the second service ; but Mrs. Smith, being 
 anxious concerning her son, returned after the admin 
 istration of the sacrament, her husband coming back 
 in season for the afternoon sermon. 
 
 After tea, as they were sitting together in the parlor, 
 James requested his sisters to sing. 
 
 Susan had a very sweet treble voice, and Maria sung 
 a good alto. They brought out the books, and, with 
 Dudley as a leader, passed an hour pleasantly in sing 
 ing from Mason's Choir ; Juliette, though pressed to 
 join them, declaring she would much prefer to be a 
 listener. 
 
 At last Susan, in answer to her brother's call, went 
 to his bed, when she received a message from him to 
 her young friend.
 
 216 JULIETTE. 
 
 w James wants to have you sing the hymn he has 
 heard from your room. Do please gratify him, and all 
 of us, if you can." 
 
 Juliette consented, though she blushed deeply as she 
 said, "I have seldom sung it without my harp ; but I 
 will do my best." Then, with a voice rarely equalled 
 in richness and pathos, she commenced the hymn I 
 have already given to the reader. 
 
 Her little audience held their breath to listen ; and 
 when she had finished, begged so warmly for another 
 and yet another hymn, that she could not refuse to 
 gratify them. 
 
 Poor James was glad that she could not witness the 
 emotion her singing produced on him. His whole soul 
 was entranced, his breast heaved, while big tears 
 coursed down his manly cheeks. " Tell her," said he, 
 to his sister, " that she has done me good ; that I have 
 no words to thank her."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " On you, most loved, with anxious fear I wait, 
 And from your judgment must expect my fate." 
 
 AFTER the lapse of a week, James began to be im 
 patient of his confinement to the bed, and, with 
 much urging, persuaded the physician to allow him to sit 
 up in an easy-chair, his arm supported in a sling and 
 propped Ijy pillows. For greater convenience the 
 chair was placed in the common sitting-room, where he 
 could be pushed to the table during their meals, which 
 was considered a great improvement by the young man 
 upon the mode of eating by himself. 
 
 One day Susan, who had been to the village on an 
 errand, ran into the room, exclaiming, "Only guess, 
 James, who I saw this morning ! But I don't believe 
 you'll guess right in a month of Sundays. Somebody 
 who inquired for you and blushed rosy-red when I told 
 her you were sick." 
 
 " How can I tell ? " asked her brother., his own color 
 deepening as he saw Juliette's eyes fixed with a pecu 
 liar expression upon him. 
 
 " You're real stupid not to know, when I've told you 
 so much. Why, it's Josey Attvvood. She's coming 
 
 19 217
 
 218 JULIETTE. 
 
 here to pass the afternoon, and her cousin with her, 
 who has been in the Lowell factory. Josey as much 
 as told me she'd come before I had time to ask her." 
 
 James glanced anxiously at his mother, and seemed 
 really annoyed, while Juliette's eyes danced with merri 
 ment. She was conscious of great relief, and secretly 
 called herself a fool for being miserable at his fancied 
 affection for her. 
 
 " I shall be right glad to see Josey," remarked Mrs. 
 Smith. " She was always a favorite of mine ; but who 
 is this cousin ? " 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure. Josey introduced her as 
 Miss Darley. She is quite a dashing, showy girl." 
 
 "You don't look half as pleased as I expected," re 
 joined Susan, archly gazing into her brother's face. 
 " You used to say she was the prettiest girl in the 
 town." 
 
 " How foolish you do talk ! " exclaimed the young 
 man, trying to conceal his flushed face. "That was 
 years ago, when we were only children." 
 
 " I have always heard those were the strongest at 
 tachments which commenced in childhood," persisted 
 the merry girl, unmoved by her brother's frowns. 
 "Don't you think so, Juliette?" 
 
 " Certainly, I do," was the blushing reply, as the 
 young girl recollected that she had loved Horace ever 
 since she could remember. 
 
 " I have a great mind to get father to roll my chair 
 into the bedroom, and stay there until your company 
 has gone," muttered James, impatiently.
 
 JULIETTE. 219 
 
 "That would scarcely be civil to your old playmate, 
 my son," urged Mrs. Smith, who had her own reasons 
 for wishing that his early affection for Josey might be 
 revived. 
 
 "Little boys must try to be good when they are sick, 
 and obey their ma's," added Susan, with a tone of 
 mock gravity . 
 
 " And not be rude to their sisters' company," rejoined 
 Juliette, archly. 
 
 " I'll do my best," urged James, with an attempt at 
 a laugh ; " I'm always thankful for good advice." 
 
 In the afternoon the young misses arrived early. 
 Josey Attwood was in her eighteenth year, just 
 Juliette's age, a petite figure, but full of sprightliness 
 and grace. In complexion she was a blonde, with a 
 profusion of light waving hair, combed low over her 
 forehead, in the prevailing mode. Her mouth was wide, 
 but well formed, and, as she was scarcely ever silent, 
 displayed continually two rows of beautiful teeth. 
 
 In the few minutes occupied in removing her bonnet 
 and mantilla, Juliette had formed a very favorable 
 opinion of the young lady, who blushingly inquired 
 in a low voice of Susan, " what James said when he 
 found she was coming?" 
 
 " Oh, it would never do to tell ! " exclaimed her com 
 panion, coloring a little at a roguish glance from 
 Juliette. "But come in and see him." 
 
 Our young heroine had a natural desire to witness 
 James's reception of his early friend, and followed her 
 and Miss Darley directly to the sitting-room.
 
 220 JULIETTE. 
 
 It was really curious to witness the embarrassment 
 in the manner of the invalid, occasioned by the sudden 
 rush of old memories her lively presence called forth, 
 commingled with the newer and far more intense emo 
 tions inspired by his intercourse with Juliette. She 
 burst upon him like a sunbeam, her eyes dancing and 
 her rosy cheeks rosier with pleasure. 
 
 James cordially grasped her hand in his, and held it 
 a moment while he gazed into her loving eyes ; but 
 presently, catching a glance of Juliette's mirthful coun 
 tenance, he suddenly realized what her conclusions 
 must be, and, with a flush that mounted to his brow, he 
 let fall her hand, and turned almost rudely to the other 
 lady, whom his sister Maria was introducing to him. 
 
 Miss Darley was a tall, well-formed girl* with a sensi 
 ble countenance, but with no claims to beauty. As 
 was learned from her conversation in the course of the 
 afternoon, she was early left an orphan ; but was taken 
 as a dependent into the family of an uncle. Feeling 
 unhappy in this situation, she determined to make 
 every effort to fit herself for a teacher, and succeeded 
 so well that she was advanced to be mistress of a town 
 school when she was in her seventeenth year. After 
 teaching for two terms, she accidentally met a young 
 friend who had been working in one of the Lowell fac 
 tories, and who represented the life there as so superior 
 to that of a village school-mistress that she gave up 
 her school and obtained a situation in the same factory 
 with her friend. She had now been an operative for 
 three years, and was so well pleased with the employ-
 
 JULIETTE. 221 
 
 ment that she would on no account exchange it for that 
 of a teacher. 
 
 Miss Darley spoke with great enthusiasm of the priv 
 ileges the factory girls enjoyed. The moment the bell 
 rang for them to be dismissed they were free to employ 
 their time as they pleased. Many of them formed 
 societies for mutual benefit, when they read, worked, 
 and conversed together. On the Sabbath great atten 
 tion was paid to their improvement in the several 
 churches of the city, as they formed no unimportant 
 part of the whole community. Bible classes with the 
 best of teachers were gathered, and all who wished 
 invited to join. 
 
 "But," suggested Mrs. Smith, after listening with 
 great interest to the animated account, " I always 
 supposed the labor was severe, and that it was 
 unhealthy." 
 
 "Not at all, ma'am; certainly not in the weaving 
 rooms, where I work. They are well ventilated and 
 kept with great neatness. I dare say it may be the 
 case in some of the dye-houses, and, perhaps, in the 
 woollen factories, where there is a bad odor from the 
 wool. Then a good hand can earn four, five, or even 
 six dollars a week beside her board." 
 
 After an early tea, Maria proposed a walk around 
 the farm, to which all consented with readiness, except 
 Josey, who evidently preferred remaining with James. 
 "While her cousin had been talking, she had sat busily 
 engaged with her work, her eyes every now and then 
 stealing a glance at him. Several times the blood was 
 19*
 
 222 JULIETTE. 
 
 sent swiftly coursing through her veins as she saw that, 
 instead of returning these glances, his gaze was fixed 
 on the fair girl on the other side of the room, whose 
 downcast eyes, shielded by her thick, curling lashes, 
 afforded him a most favorable opportunity to contem 
 plate her exquisitely cut features. 
 
 Even Josey, beginning to be moved to jealousy of 
 one whom she feared might be a rival, could not help 
 acknowledging to herself that Miss Edwards was very 
 lovely. There was a purity in that low, broad brow, 
 an expression of truthfulness in those soft, beaming 
 eyes, a winning sweetness in the tiny mouth, an air 
 of high breeding in the carriage of the small head, set 
 so daintily upon her shoulders, that, though she did not 
 thus define each charm, made a strong impression on 
 the beholder. 
 
 From being indignant at his indifference toward her 
 self, a state of things wholly new in her former ex 
 perience, she began to wonder how she should com 
 pare with this beautiful stranger, and ended by humbly 
 underrating her own attractions. 
 
 When the walk was first proposed she was pleased, 
 as she thought she might easily find an excuse for re 
 maining within, and have an opportunity to come to a 
 better understanding with James. But when he so 
 strenuously urged her to accompany his sisters, she 
 went, carrying a heavy weight at her heart. 
 . Juliette, in passing out, gave him a reproachful 
 glance, and, taking advantage of a momentary delay 
 of the party in the hall, said, in a low voice, " You are
 
 JULIETTE. 223 
 
 not keeping your promise to do your best. She is a 
 very lovely girl." 
 
 How little either of the party imagined what an im 
 portant bearing the events of this short afternoon would 
 have upon the future destiny of one of their number ! 
 But I forbear. 
 
 Weeks flew by until the early sweetings, Maria called 
 honeycombs, were ripe. The hay, oats, rye, and bar 
 ley were gathered in the barns, though Mr. Smith 
 would not consent that James should " lift a hand " 
 toward the work, for fear his shoulder was not yet 
 strong. Maria and her sister were commencing their 
 preparations for returning to school, and Juliette began 
 to count the days before she could reasonably expect 
 an answer to her letter. 
 
 Her kind pastor, Mr. Allen, had informed her that a 
 vessel ordinarily sailed from New York to Liverpool in 
 four weeks ; but, as she supposed her father and brother 
 had gone directly to the continent, some time longer 
 must elapse before it could reach him. Then the 
 weeks necessary for a return would carry it quite into 
 the autumn. 
 
 She tried to be patient and submissive to the will 
 of God, whatever it might be. But of late she had 
 had some trials, which were more severe because she 
 was obliged to keep them locked in her own breast, 
 and could not find sympathy from the motherly heart 
 of Mrs. Smith, as she had heretofore done. 
 
 Ever since the visit of Josey Attwood, James had 
 been at times moody and fitful, wholly unlike his for-
 
 224 JULIETTE. 
 
 mer easy good temper. His father insisted that his 
 fall had produced some injury not yet wholly revealed. 
 But his mother, with a keener insight into human na 
 ture in general, and her son's nature in particular, knew 
 that the injury was in his heart, and feared it would 
 be difficult to heal. With Juliette's conduct she was 
 entirely satisfied. No sooner did she suspect the na 
 ture of his affection than she withdrew herself as much 
 as possible from his society, never allowing him an op 
 portunity to see her alone. 
 
 This excitement, like every other, constantly weigh 
 ing upon her mind, affected her spirits, and within a 
 few days she had determined to relate to him her for 
 mer history ; and even, if necessary, to show him that 
 he had no hope from delay ; to acknowledge that her 
 heart was not in her own keeping. Once assured of 
 this, she was convinced he had too much good sense 
 to cherish an attachment which never could be recip 
 rocated. 
 
 Having once made up her mind to this course, she 
 became impatient for an opportunity for its accomplish 
 ment. In company with Maria and Susan, she was 
 often invited to parties of young persons in the town. 
 A few times she had accepted the invitations, but gen 
 erally preferred remaining quietly at the farm with 
 Mrs. Smith. It happened, just at this period, fortu 
 nately as she thought, that an excursion was planned 
 to a neighboring village, and James earnestly invited 
 her to accompany him. 
 
 She hesitated a moment, wishing first to consult his
 
 JULIETTE. 225 
 
 mother , but the good woman, not understanding her 
 reason, called her from the room and said, "You had 
 better go this once, my dear. He will never be satis 
 fied until he has told you his feelings. I'm afraid you 
 will think him a very foolish, aspiring boy." 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed! He has a noble heart any one 
 would be proud to win ; but there are many reasons 
 why I cannot return his affection. My father away, 
 and " 
 
 "I understand you, my dear; but James is waiting. 
 May I tell him you will go? " 
 
 "If you think it proper and best. If I go, I shall 
 relate to him what I have already told you of my life 
 before I came to Stamford." 
 
 "That is right." Mrs. Smith warmly kissed her 
 cheek, and then went to announce to her son the ac 
 ceptance of his invitation. 
 
 The young farmer had taken the precaution to hire 
 a handsome buggy, indeed, the handsomest in the 
 village, before he spoke to Juliette, and on the day 
 appointed drove gayly to the door, dressed in his new 
 suit of black broadcloth. 
 
 As he stood waiting a moment for his companion, 
 his countenance radiant with happiness, for the poor 
 fellow was building bright hopes on her consenting to 
 accompany him alone, his mother could scarcely refrain 
 from hinting the probable result of the excursion. 
 
 Susan, who, with Maria and Dudley and a young 
 gentleman of her acquaintance, were to go in Mr. 
 Smith's carriage, gazed earnestly at her brother, and
 
 226 JULIETTE. 
 
 at last exclaimed, in her own impressive way, "James, 
 I never saw you look so well. If I wasn't your sister 
 I'd marry you right off." 
 
 At this moment Juliette appeared, dressed in a rich 
 silk she had never worn in Stamford, and with an ex 
 pensive bracelet of gold and pearls clasped on her pol 
 ished arm, but with a pale, troubled countenance. 
 
 Mrs. Smith, at once comprehending her reason for 
 this cK;bge in her hitherto strictly plain attire, smiled 
 her approval ; and, with many charges to her son to 
 bring the young girl home in safety, bowed her adieu 
 as they drove away. 
 
 Poor James ! He had passed half the night before 
 in composing a suitable speech for this occasion ; but 
 now, as he was seated by the side of this richly dressed 
 lady, her round, slender arm, encircled with an orna 
 ment costing more than all he was worth in the world, 
 lying so daintily across her lap, just within his line of 
 vision, it seemed preposterous, absurd, and he dis 
 carded it in disgust. 
 
 "But how shall I tell her?" he soliloquized, as they 
 swiftly made their way toward the rendezvous of the 
 party. "I can't, and wont bear this any longer, while 
 I have a tongue to speak, or ears to hear her reply. 
 Somehow or other I must end my suspense this after 
 noon ; but it's a terrible job. I'd rather cradle the 
 biggest piece of oats I ever saw ; " and, taking his white 
 handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the perspira 
 tion, which seemed oozing from every pore of his face. 
 
 Juliette I am sorry to be obliged to say it
 
 JULIETTE. 227 
 
 smiled, yes, smiled, when she ought to have shed 
 tears over the downfall of his dearest hopes. She sus 
 pected the cause of his confusion, and determined to 
 forestall the declaration she saw he was gathering cour 
 age to make. All at once she began to talk in her 
 gayest tone, pointing out the beauties of the landscape, 
 and asking who lived in this house, and who in the 
 cottage back in the fields. 
 
 "How far is it from Stamford to A ?" she 
 
 inquired. 
 
 "About ten miles; but there is an early moon, and 
 at any rate I don't mean to be late." 
 
 Standing near the village school-house were car 
 riages of every description, awaiting the arrival of the 
 remainder of the party. James drove up to the door, 
 snapping his whip in style ; but Juliette preferred not 
 to alight. 
 
 " Our young farmer seems to be in high clover," 
 muttered a man in an open carriage near them. " "Tisn't 
 every one can have a chance to ride in 'Squire Lyman's 
 new buggy, with a girl as handsome as a picter a-sitting 
 by the side of him." 
 
 Juliette's face was crimson. She snatched down her 
 veil, and tried to turn her head away. 
 
 James colored, too, but it was with pleasure. " No," 
 said he, in a tone meant only for her ear, "I wouldn't 
 change my place this afternoon for that of a king on 
 his throne." 
 
 One company after another arrived, and soon the 
 signal was given for starting away. Dudley Hough-
 
 228 JULIETTE. 
 
 ton, as the projector of the excursion, led the proces 
 sion, and James Smith followed him. 
 
 "Now is my time," thought Juliette. "I am deter 
 mined to save him the mortification of being refused ; " 
 but, before she could choose words to commence, her 
 companion, summoning all his courage, said, 
 
 " Miss Edwards, perhaps you can imagine why I in 
 vited you to come with me alone this afternoon. 
 From the time you alighted from the carriage the day 
 you came home with our girls, looking so pale and sad, 
 I've loved you. When you gazed so wistfully in 
 mother's eyes, and flew to her arms like a poor bird 
 scared from its nest, I made a vow to myself that while 
 I had arms strong enough to earn you a home, you 
 should have one. I loved you then, a stranger as you 
 was to all of us. I saw truth and purity in every 
 action ; but, O Juliette ! words can't express how 
 much Llove you now. I know I'm an ignorant coun 
 try farmer, earning my living by the sweat of my brow ; 
 I know I am unsuited to you in many things, refined, 
 delicate, and accomplished as you are ; but, if you will 
 only say you'll try to return my love, I'll pledge my 
 self, before the God we both try to serve, to devote my 
 life to making you happy."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Father of spirits, hear! 
 Look on the inmost heart to thee revealed; 
 Look on the fountain of the burning tear." 
 
 POOR Juliette ! Several times she had endeavored 
 to interrupt him, but her fast-flowing tears and 
 the eagerness with which he was borne on by his feel 
 ings prevented her. As soon as she could speak she 
 said, "Don't, James! Don't say any more! You 
 make me very unhappy." 
 
 The young farmer gasped for breath. He knew by 
 the sad tone of her voice that his suit was a hopeless 
 one. 
 
 "I do love you, James," she added, softly laying 
 her hand on his arm; "love you as a dear, warm 
 hearted Christian brother. I will not pretend that I 
 have misunderstood your many acts of kindness ; but I 
 hoped to spare you this avowal by telling you some 
 things about myself." 
 
 " Nothing you can tell me of that kind will alter my 
 feelings," said the young man, in such a tone of utter 
 despondence that her tears flowed afresh. 
 
 "I knew you had suffered," he added, sighing; 
 " but I loved you the more on that account. Oh ! I 
 
 1 20 229
 
 230 JULIETTE. 
 
 have longed so to make you happy, to try to have you 
 forget the past." 
 
 "James, James, you will break my heart! You 
 are too good, too noble, not to have a wife who can, 
 with her whole soul, return your affection. James, I 
 love one I knew long before I met you, and I am very 
 unhappy, too." 
 
 He started, and gazed at her in silence for a mo 
 ment. "Whew!" he exclaimed ;" I wonder I never 
 thought of that. I can scarcely credit it that any one 
 you loved could treat you ill." 
 
 "He has not. He is good and kind. We were 
 brought up like brother and sister, our parents having 
 married. But he is gone away for years, and I am a 
 poor wanderer, turned from my father's house because 
 I would not deny my Saviour. " 
 
 James's eyes flashed fire. " Wicked wretch ! " he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh, don't say so!" she cried in agony. "He is 
 my father, my beloved, indulgent father ; indulgent in 
 everything but this. Yet he was brought up with bit 
 ter prejudices against religion, and he really believes 
 that he is saving me from great unhappiness. Of late, 
 I have often thought of going to my grandfather's ; but 
 I fear he would oppose me even more than my father 
 has done." 
 
 The young man did not seem to hear her last re 
 mark. There was a terrible struggle going on in his 
 breast. His hopes of happiness with her he loved with 
 the whole strength of his manly heart were suddenly
 
 JULIETTE. 231 
 
 blasted ; and at first he could not be resigned to his 
 fate. "It is worse than death," he said to himself. 
 " I cannot endure it." But James was a Christian, and 
 believed that for such all things were ordered for good. 
 His heart went up to the throne of grace in an earnest 
 petition for strength and submission to the will of his 
 heavenly Father ; and while he asked, God answered. 
 Turning his glistening eyes full upon hers, he said iu 
 a subdued voice, "Juliette, it is over now. At first I 
 was stunned. I had hoped you could learn to love 
 me ; but that is past forever. You say you were turned 
 from home because you loved your Saviour. I hope 
 he is my Saviour, too, and for his sake I offer you a 
 home as long as you can be happy with us. You say 
 you love me as a brother, and here I pledge you a 
 brother 's love and support." His lips quivered with 
 ill-concealed emotion, while he held out his ungloved 
 hand, which she caught in both of hers and pressed 
 to her lips. " Now let me say one thing more," he re 
 joined, when he could command his voice, "I want 
 you to promise that if ever you need my services, you 
 will call upon me. You can't imagine how much good 
 it would do me to be of use to you. Don't be afraid I 
 shall misinterpret your feelings ; for after what has 
 passed between us I shall never hope, as I have done. 
 No, I want you to forget all that ; or just to remember 
 it when it wont give you pain ; only let me feel, after 
 this, that I am your out-and-out friend. Maybe I 
 shall be dull at times ; " and he heaved a dreadful sigh 
 as he bewail to realize what a terrible void had been
 
 232 JULIETTE. 
 
 made in his heart. w But God will give me strength to 
 endure it. I think I might even be happy if I could 
 see you so. 
 
 " There, don't cry so, Juliette. I may call my sis 
 ter, Juliette ? " She could only nod her assent. <( Do 
 let me comfort you ; " and he choked down a sob that 
 threatened to suffocate him. 
 
 "You have comforted me," sobbed the weeping 
 girl ; " you do not know how thankful I am. I think 
 God turned your heart to me in answer to my prayers. 
 I shall always thank him for giving me so good, so 
 kind, so noble a brother. I came to Stamford so des 
 olate, and now I have a father, mother, brother and 
 two sisters. Yes," she added, after a momentary 
 pause, and becoming more composed, " my Father in 
 heaven has fulfilled his promise' to me. lie has 
 raised me up friends who have comforted me in my 
 sorrow." 
 
 They rode on for some time in silence ; and then she 
 began to talk of her step-mother, of her early death, 
 the agony of her father, her removal to the school, her 
 happiness when she began to love her Saviour, her 
 return to New York, her sin in entering into the dissi 
 pations of the gay city, her determination to break 
 away from them, and the sad result which followed. 
 
 These she dwelt upon at length, James listening 
 with rapt attention and expressing his sympathy in his 
 own peculiar manner. When she stopped, he said 
 softly, "Tell me of him." 
 
 The name of Horace she had purposely omitted,
 
 JULIETTE. 233 
 
 fearing it would give him pain. At his request, how 
 ever, though with a heightened color, she spoke of his 
 early life, how kind he was to her, how considerate of 
 her wishes ; then when they were separated, how often 
 he had written her, and when he was in college how 
 frequent were his visits to Mrs. Osborn's school. 
 She told him of their residence under her father 's roof ; 
 how a remark she made turned his thoughts to the sub 
 ject of religion, and then, when he saw her becoming 
 more and more conformed to the world and passing 
 her life in the vain pursuit after pleasure, how he had 
 feared for her and warned her ; and last, she spoke of 
 his departure for Europe, and, with a choking voice, 
 of the tenderness of his farewell. 
 
 "I always thought my brother Horace superior to 
 any man I knew, except my father," she exclaimed, 
 with a deep blush ; " but I never knew how much I 
 loved him till he was gone." 
 
 All this James heard, smothering the pain her 
 frank avowal gave him, and then, in his honest, 
 hearty way, said, "I wish you all the happiness with 
 him that you deserve. He must be worthy, or you 
 could not love him as you do." 
 
 "Thank you!" cried Juliette, fervently. "I may 
 never see him again, though I hope to ; but if I do 
 not, T never shall be married." 
 
 "No, you ought not;" he answered manfully. "I 
 have often thought that no life could be so miserable 
 as to be married to one person and love another." 
 
 "That would be one reason, if there were no other, 
 
 20*
 
 234 JULIETTE. 
 
 James," said Juliette, looking archly in his face, "why 
 I could not have married you. Only think how 
 wretched we should both have felt, if, too late, you 
 should have discovered that, after all, you loved that 
 sweet girl you have known all your life." 
 
 " Poor Josey ! " murmured James. "I'm afraid 
 she thought me very unkind. Well, I shall know how 
 to sympathize with her, now ; " and he resolutely re 
 pressed a sigh. 
 
 " But here we are. I shall never forget this ride. 
 How short it has been ! " 
 
 On alighting from the carriage Juliette found Ma 
 ria and Susan waiting to conduct her to the anteroom 
 adjoining the hall, where supper was to be served. 
 Just before they were leaving it for a promenade 
 around the tables, our heroine perceived Josey Att- 
 wood standing near a middle-aged man, gazing sorrow 
 fully at their group. 
 
 "I do pity Josey," whispered Susan. "There she 
 is with her sister and brother-in-law. She refused 
 ever so many invitations from the young men. She's 
 a great favorite with all of them." 
 
 "I suppose she has accompanied your brother on 
 similar occasions," answered her companion, calmly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Let's go and invite her now. I see a number of 
 the gentleman have a lady on each arm. I'm sure 
 James will enjoy having his old friend in our com 
 pany. " 
 
 Susan gave a piercing glance into Juliette's ani-
 
 JULIETTE. 235 
 
 mated countenance ; then, unmindful of the presence of 
 others, suddenly leaned forward and kissed her warm 
 ly, whispering, "You're the dearest girl that ever 
 was ! " 
 
 "Come!" exclaimed Juliette, putting her hand 
 within James's arm, " we're going over to talk with 
 Josey." 
 
 -As they made their way through the crowd, who 
 were talking and laughing gayly, she added in a low 
 tone, " I'm going to use one of my privileges as a sis 
 ter and offer your disengaged arm to a friend." 
 
 "Just as you say," he answered, coloring; "but I'm 
 afraid it will only make matters worse." 
 
 The young girl saw them approaching, and turned 
 quickly away to hide her tears. But Susan, hastily 
 disengaging her arm from that of the gentleman who* 
 accompanied her, sprang forward and caught her hand. 
 " We all want you with us," she said eagerly. 
 
 Josey turned a wistful glance toward James and his 
 companion, when the former, urged by a slight pres 
 sure of his arm, added, "Yes, come with us. It seems 
 odd not to have you in our party." And offering her 
 his arm, she blushingly accepted it, and they at once 
 joined the procession which had begun to form around 
 the room. 
 
 Juliette talked and laughed, and gave them no time 
 to feel awkward. And in her disinterested effort to pro 
 mote kind feeling between her two companions, she 
 entered into the excitement of the occasion until she 
 became the life of the whole company.
 
 236 JULIETTE. 
 
 When they returned to the anteroom to don their 
 outer garments, Juliette, who had planned a little proj 
 ect of her own, drew Josey aside and said, "You 
 know James and I have adopted one another for broth 
 er and sister ; so for his sake you must love me a lit 
 tle. We came in a buggy ; but as you and I are both 
 small, there will be plenty of room, and you shall re 
 turn with us." 
 
 Poor Josey 's lips quivered ; she choked, then 
 burst into tears. At last she answered, speaking with 
 difficulty, "Thank you, I'm sure; but I'm afraid 
 James wont like it. He don't treat me at all as he 
 used to." 
 
 Juliette was really distressed. She was too truth 
 ful to assert that he would probably wish her company ; 
 l)ut presently, with a bright thought, she exclaimed, 
 "I have noticed a difference in James since he was 
 sick. He has had some things to trouble him ; so we 
 must do all we can for his comfort." 
 
 Josey's countenance beamed with sympathy. "I'll 
 do anything in the world I can for him ; and, if he 
 don't object, I will ride in your carriage with pleas 
 ure. 
 
 Mrs. Smith was somewhat surprised to see James 
 and Juliette riding up to the door in such good spirits, 
 and, while her son went home with the buggy, still 
 more so to hear Susan's lively account of the excur 
 sion. 
 
 "I do believe our Juliette is a witch, mother ; and 
 we ought to be thankful that she didn't live in the
 
 JULIETTE. 237 
 
 old times, or she would have been hung. In the first 
 place, the eyes of all the gentlemen, present company 
 always excepted," making a low bow to Dudley, 
 " were fixed upon her, to the utter neglect of their own 
 lady-loves, while nothing could be talked of but Miss 
 Edwards, Miss Edwards's bright eyes, Miss Ed- 
 wards's brilliant color, her silky curls, her ease, digni 
 ty, and grace in company." 
 
 Susy stopped to recover her breath, but presently 
 resumed. "Then, in the second place, she so be 
 witched our James that he didn't know whether he 
 was on his head or feet. And there he strutted about, 
 with her on one arm and Josey on the other, the envy 
 of half the beaux and the detestation of the other 
 half." 
 
 "It's all true, mother," added Maria, when the- 
 shout of merriment had subsided. " I wont even ex 
 cept Dudley ; for I caught his eyes playing truant 
 more than once." 
 
 Mrs. Smith noticed that, though Juliette laughed 
 with the others, her thoughts were not with them ; 
 and, with a mother's anxiety to know what had passed, 
 she advised the young lady to retire to rest, and pres 
 ently followed to the chamber. 
 
 "James is a noble man!" cried the tired girl, 
 throwing her arms around Mrs. Smith's neck. " He 
 knows all now ; and has promised to be a friend and 
 brother still. Josey came home with us, and I can 
 see he will turn to her for comfort." 
 
 "God will bless you, my dear," answered the good
 
 238 JULIETTE. 
 
 woman, straining the young girl to her heart. "You 
 have done just right." 
 
 She had scarcely reached the bottom of the stairs 
 before James entered the kitchen. He did not per 
 ceive her, 'and, throwing himself listlessly into a chair, 
 covered his face with liis hands. 
 
 She softly approached him and put her hand on his 
 head. 
 
 "O mother!" he cried in agony, "I have lost 
 her. My. heart seems crushed, but she is too good 
 and too beautiful for me." And covering his face 
 again, his stout form swayed to and fro with the 
 fierce emotions that agitated his breast. 
 
 A shout of laughter from the parlor reached him, 
 and, starting up, he was about to rush to his own room, 
 when he suddenly turned back and said, hoarsely, 
 "Mother, will you pray for me? Oh, I did hope I 
 could make her happy ! But she must never know 
 this. No one but God shall know what I suffer." He 
 wrung the hand she held out to him, and left the room. 
 
 As he passed Juliette's door, he heard her voice 
 softly uttering her evening prayer. Unconsciously 
 he stopped and listened. She was thanking her 
 heavenly Father for giving her such kind friends to 
 be a support to her in her hours of trial, separated as 
 she was from her own kindred. 
 
 "Yes, and I will be a friend!" he exc^imcd, 
 hastening to his own chamber. "I must and will 
 school my heart ; and, God helping me, she shall never 
 suspect how miserable she has made me."
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 " Her heart sunk in her, 
 And every slackened fibre dropt its hold, 
 Like Nature letting down the springs of life." 
 
 IT was nearly a month later than the events related 
 in the preceding chapter that the horse and buggy 
 of the village doctor were seen driving up to the farm. 
 
 Within the house Mrs. Smith was anxiously bend 
 ing over Juliette's couch, the young girl having at last 
 fallen into a light slumber. 
 
 "How is my patient to-day?" inquired the physi 
 cian entering from the side door into the kitchen, 
 where Maria and her sister were at work. 
 
 "I don't know, exactly," answered Susan, coming 
 forward. "Mother took care of her last night and 
 said the poor girl did not get any slepp. Do you 
 think she will have a fever?" 
 
 " She has a fever already ; a slow, nervous attack, 
 not severe, nor immediately dangerous ; but there is 
 nothing like it to prostrate the system." And so say 
 ing, he went softly up the stairs. 
 
 Mrs. Smith came quickly from the chamber to meet 
 him with her finger on her lip. 
 
 239
 
 240 JULIETTE. 
 
 " She's just fallen off," she remarked in a whisper. 
 "The first sleep she's had for twenty-four hours." 
 
 "How's her appetite?" he inquired in the same 
 tone. 
 
 " She has none at all. I don't think she's taken a 
 teaspoonfnl of nourishment since you were here yester 
 day morning." 
 
 "Much fever?" 
 
 "By spells. She was hot and restless all night." 
 She pushed open the door behind her and entered on 
 tiptoe, the doctor following closely. 
 
 As she lay there, the dark, thick lashes shadowing 
 her white cheek, she looked so much like one resting in 
 her last, long slumber, that the physician started forward 
 and put down his ear to listen whether she breathed. 
 Then he laid his fingers gently on the frail wrist lying 
 outside the counterpane, shook his head impressively, 
 and motioned Mrs. Smith from the room. 
 
 "Where are this child's friends?" he inquired, 
 when the door was again shut. 
 
 " Her father is abroad. I do not know whether she 
 has other relatives." She was evidently embarrassed 
 both at the question and the searching look which ac 
 companied it. 
 
 "They ought to know her situation." 
 
 " Then you consider her very ill? " 
 
 " Not so much that, but the delicacy of her constitu 
 tion excites alarm. Did you observe that white ring 
 about the mouth and the pinched look of the nostrils ? 
 They denote extreme prostration."
 
 JULIETTE. 241 
 
 " She always has that when the fever is off. Her 
 cheeks were bright-red all night." 
 
 He stood a moment gazing abstractedly upon the 
 floor. " I think I must venture to try a tonic," he 
 muttered, half-aloud ; and, opening the door of the 
 adjoining room, he went to the table, and prepared a 
 number of little powders, which he ordered to be 
 given once in three hours. 
 
 "I'll look in again before bedtime, if possible," 
 he added, turning to go downstairs. " In the mean 
 time, get her to take as much arrow-root, toast- water, 
 or rice-water, as you can." 
 
 The kind-hearted woman returned softly to the 
 chamber, and, finding her patient still asleep, went 
 to a closet in the entry for some sewing. 
 
 Presently a door opened at the end of the hall, and 
 James beckoned her toward him. 
 
 " What does the doctor say ? " he asked in a hurried 
 voice. 
 
 " He thinks her very ill." 
 
 " Dangerously so ? " 
 
 " He said her friends ought to be informed of her 
 condition." 
 
 A low, quick gasp, and without another word he 
 entered his room again. 
 
 Oh, the agony of the hour that followed ! With 
 
 clasped hands and streaming eyes, he besieged the 
 
 mercy-seat in her behalf. ''Gracious Father, spare 
 
 her; take her not away in the midst of her days. 
 
 21
 
 242 JULIETTE. 
 
 Restore her to life, strength, and happiness ; and do 
 unto thy servant according to thy will." 
 
 Then, comforted by the assurance that God was a 
 hearer and answerer of prayer, he stole unpcrceived 
 down the back stairs, and returned to his work again. 
 
 About the same hour Juliette awoke. At first, she 
 gazed in the face of her devoted nurse, as if she did 
 not recognize her,- but almost instantly recovered 
 herself, and smiled. "I have had a beautiful drearn," 
 she said, softly. "I thought James went to the office,, 
 and found a letter there for me from father, and he 
 wants me to come to him at once." 
 
 " Perhaps it may come true, dear. We will send to 
 the office and see. But you will need a good deal 
 more strength before you can start on so long a jour 
 ney ; and here is a powder the doctor left for you." 
 
 Juliette took- it, as she did everything else, without 
 a word of remonstrance, and then swallowed a spoon- 
 full of arrow-root after it. Her heart was full of her 
 dream ; and she could not refrain talking about it. 
 "How much better I feel ! " she said again and again. 
 " I believe, if I should hear from father, I should be 
 well very quick. " 
 
 Mrs. Smith brushed back her hair and kissed her. 
 " You mustn't talk too much, dear, for fear it will 
 bring on your fever. If you'll promise to be a good 
 girl, and not be ^too much disappointed if the dream, 
 doesn't prove true this time, I'll slip down and get Mr. 
 Smith or James to ride to the village. How should 
 you like to have Mr. Allen call and see you ? "
 
 JULIETTE. 243 
 
 " Very much. He's a good man." 
 
 Mrs. Smith knew how much pleasure it would give 
 her son to go ; and therefore telling Susan to go up to 
 Juliette, but not to let her talk, she put on her sun- 
 bonnet, and went out to the field where he was at 
 work harvesting his vegetables. 
 
 The young man dropped his spade at once, and, 
 without waiting to change his dress, harnessed the 
 horse into the wagon and rode quickly away. 
 
 He drove first to Mr. Allen's and gave his mother's 
 message, and then, with a palpitating heart, made his 
 way across the common to the office. 
 
 " Any letters for us to-day, Mr. Jones ? " 
 
 "I'll see. No," he added presently, "there are 
 none." 
 
 " Wont you look particularly, and see whether 
 there is one for Miss Edwards? She's expecting one." 
 
 The man fumbled over some papers, and then 
 answered "No," again; little suspecting how that one 
 short syllable caused the young man's heart to sink 
 within him. He dreaded to go home the bearer of 
 ill tidings ; and, finally, concluded to call at Mr. 
 Allen's again, and get him to go to the farm at once. 
 
 Mrs. Smith found that her young patient was eagerly 
 listening for the carriage, and feared she was too con 
 fident of receiving a letter. She tried to divert her 
 mind from the subject, and even hinted that James 
 might be unsuccessful ; but Juliette only smiled. Her 
 dream had seemed so real. The " My dearly loved 
 daughter " at the commencement, and the " Ever your
 
 244 JULIETTE. 
 
 loving father" at the close, with the tenderest little 
 postscript from Horace, were as clearly before her 
 mind's eye, as the face of her faithful, untiring nurse 
 was before her physical one. 
 
 Still, when the sound of wheels was heard approach 
 ing, her quick, sharp "Hark! isn't that James?" 
 betrayed so much of nervous excitement, the very 
 thing the doctor had condemned, that, in order to 
 allay it the sooner, she hastened down the stairs. 
 
 James had already jumped to the ground, and was 
 holding the reins for Mr. Allen to alight. One glance 
 at his troubled face told her he had not succeeded. 
 Inviting Mr. Allen into the parlor, she returned for a 
 minute to the door. 
 
 " There was nothing for her, mother," he said, 
 avoiding her eye. " I'd have given half I'm worth to 
 have brought her a letter. 
 
 " I don't know how she'll take it," murmured the 
 good woman, speaking to herself. " She seemed very 
 sure you'd bring her one." 
 
 "And more than that," he exclaimed in a low, angry 
 tone, and with a flash of his deep blue eye, " I don't 
 believe they ever mean to write her. The man's a 
 rascal, to my thinking." 
 
 " Hush ! James, hush ! You don't know what 
 you're saying." She was really alarmed to hear him 
 talk so fiercely ; and, with a glance of mingled reproach 
 and tenderness, she hastened to relieve Juliette's 
 anxiety, and announce Mr. Allen's arrival. 
 
 .When Mrs. Smith first caught sight of her patient,
 
 JULIETTE. 245 
 
 she was looking toward the door, with a face of such 
 eager, pleased anticipation, her eyes so brimful of 
 hope, her cheeks so brilliant with triumph, that the 
 heart of the woman sank within her. 
 
 " Give it to rne, quick," she said, earnestly ; " I can 
 bear it. Oh, don't make me wait ! please, dear Mrs. 
 Smith." 
 
 The sympathizing nurse, though not given to crying, 
 could not restrain her tears. " You must wait a little 
 longer, my poor child. There was no letter to-day." 
 
 The bright color faded suddenly, all hope died out 
 of the beaming eye, and the poor girl, sinking back 
 into her pillows, covered her face with her hands, and 
 wept bitter, bitter tears of disappointment. 
 
 For a time, Mrs. Smith did not try to check her 
 grief; she only laid her hand tenderly on the throbbing 
 temples, and uttered soothing sounds, as one would to 
 a frightened child. " There, dear, don't now ! Maybe 
 there'll be one to-morrow." 
 
 Juliette shook her head ; and, after weeping for some 
 time without restraint, while her anxious companion 
 was wondering what she should do with her, said 
 abruptly, " Don't think me ungrateful. If you only 
 knew how sure, how very sure, I was. I knew every 
 word of it by heart; but now I feel I am unforgiven. 
 I shall never hear from him again ; " and she uttered 
 such a cry of distress, as the truth of this seemed to 
 burst upon her, that Mr. Smith, who was with their 
 pastor, came hastily up the stairs to inquire the cause. 
 
 21*
 
 246 JULIETTE. 
 
 " Memories on memories I to my soul again 
 
 There come such dreams of banished love and bliss, 
 That my wrung heart, though long inured to pain, 
 Sinks with the fulness of its wretchedness." 
 
 Mrs. Smith did .not speak, but only pointed to the 
 bed, where Juliette, in a violent fit of hysterics, was 
 sobbing, until her frail form was shaken from head to 
 foot. 
 
 The good farmer, wholly unused to such scenes, 
 descended more hastily than he came up, and begged 
 the clergyman to go to the relief of the poor girl. 
 
 Mr. Allen, fortunately, was more conversant with 
 sickness both of the body and mind. He asked Mrs. 
 Smith for her bottle of ammonia, and administered a 
 few 'drops with his own hands. Then, addressing the 
 sick girl in a firm, but mild tone, he said, " You must 
 try to control yourself; it will kill you to give way to 
 your feelings, and God has more work for you before 
 he calls you home." 
 
 Perhaps it was his words of authority ; perhaps 
 because her grief had spent itself, and exhausted 
 nature could weep no more ; but her sobs came at 
 longer intervals, and at last ceased altogether. 
 
 She was, however, in such a state of utter exhaus 
 tion, without the least particle of color in her face and 
 lips, that he did not deem it expedient to address her 
 again. He took her hand in his, and, caressing it as 
 he would one of his own children, he knelt by her 
 side, and in a few well-chosen words, commended the 
 poor, stricken lamb to the care of the good Shepherd, 
 then passed silently from the room.
 
 JULIETTE. 247 
 
 James was waiting below to carry him home. His 
 heart was too much oppressed for conversation, and 
 they rode more than half the distance to the village in 
 silence, when Mr. Allen said, abruptly, as if it were 
 but the continuation of his thoughts, " She may never 
 hear from her earthly father ; but I think her heavenly 
 Father will soon summon her home. Thank God, she 
 seems prepared." 
 
 He had no suspicion what a dagger he was driving 
 into the heart of his mute companion, who turned very 
 pale, while a groan of agony forced itself from his lips. 
 
 But I must not delay on this part of my story. Juli 
 ette, after lying in about the same state for a fortnight, 
 began slowly to convalesce. Nothing could exceed the 
 devotion of good Mrs. Smith and her daughters during 
 this period. And, as she became able to sit up for a part 
 of the day, the farmer and his son often dropped in to 
 cheer and amuse her. With her quick, sensitive nature 
 the invalid soon perceived that the latter grew paler 
 and paler at every interview. She questioned Mrs. 
 Smith upon the subject ; but her inquiries were either 
 evaded or wholly unanswered. What could it be? 
 To her he seemed as kind as ever, but somewhat con 
 strained. 
 
 It was not till a week later that her gradually formed 
 suspicions were increased to a certainty, thus bringing 
 clearly before her the necessity of a change in her resi 
 dence. 
 
 In consequence of her sickness, the fall work in the
 
 248 JULIETTE. 
 
 farm-house was greatly retarded ; the girls had post 
 poned returning to school , and now were every moment 
 engaged with their mother in making pickles, pre 
 serves, drying apples, peaches, and plums, for winter 
 use. The young girl insisted that now she was fully 
 able to take care of herself. 
 
 Since her convalescence, it had been her frequent 
 habit to lie down in the bedroom adjoining the parlor, 
 where James had been sick, and one day she was 
 awakened from a short nap by the sound of Mrs. 
 Smith's voice in the parlor. She seemed urging some 
 point with great feeling. "I would go, James. 
 Change of scene will do more than anything else to 
 wean you from her. While you see her every day, 
 see her feeble and dependent, your sympathies are 
 constantly called forth." 
 
 " You don't know what you ask, mother," he replied, 
 his voice so thick she could scarcely recognize it. " I 
 can't go away and deprive myself of the only comfort 
 that is left me. I haven't strength nor courage to do 
 it. No ; I'll take the school here for the winter. I can 
 help father morning and night, to pay my board, and 
 then all my earnings will go to pay you and the doc 
 tor for her sickness." 
 
 Juliette gave a quick gasp and clenched her hands. 
 
 M But I have told you before," remonstrated the kind 
 woman, "that she is entirely welcome to all I've done, 
 and the girls say so, too. The doctor's bill, I suppose, 
 will be considerable, but he wont be in a hurry for it. 
 I wish you could be persuaded to take the school that
 
 JULIETTE. 24t> 
 
 has been offered you in T . Your father wishes 
 
 it, too." 
 
 Maria's voice at the door ended the conversation, and 
 Juliette, arising from her couch, stole unobserved to 
 her chamber. There was a new resolve in her bright 
 eye as she hurriedly pulled from the bottom of her trunk 
 a well-filled purse, and poured part of the contents upon 
 the bed. 
 
 " She said it would be considerable. I wonder how 
 much that is. Here are two hundred dollars in gold, 
 my father's last allowance. How little time that would 
 have defrayed my expenses in New York ! Oh, what 
 a noble heart James has ! I shall never see Horace 
 again. Couldn't I teach myself to love him as he 
 wishes ? " 
 
 She stood still and caught her breath, as a rush of 
 precious memories swept over her. "No, it would be 
 sin. I couldn't do it ; but, James, as long as I live I 
 never shall cease to be grateful to you." 
 
 Gathering up five eagles, she wrapped them in a 
 paper, and, enclosing them in an envelope, directed 
 
 them to Dr. , hoping to be able to give them to 
 
 him in the course of the day. 
 
 Then she locked the door, and sitting on her trunk 
 with her eyes fixed abstractedly on the floor, she took 
 counsel of her own heart. Many, many times since the 
 visit of Miss Darley, especially since she had renounced 
 all hope of being reconciled to her father, she had 
 turned her thoughts toward the Lowell factories as a 
 feasible means of support. The graphic account given
 
 250 JULIETTE. 
 
 by that young lady of the pleasantness and healthiness 
 of the employment, the taste and order which prevailed, 
 and especially the measures taken for the improvement 
 of the operatives, had made a strong impression upon 
 her mind. Now that she was firmly resolved to leave 
 Stamford, and to leave it at the first moment her health 
 would permit, this seemed to her a direct intimation 
 of Providence as to her path of duty. 
 
 She knew her friends would object, and oppose every 
 obstacle in her way ; but she was sure that, after she 
 had gone, they would consider her conduct both wise 
 and honorable. One hundred dollars, which was the 
 sum she determined to leave for Mrs. Smith, was, she 
 knew, a small compensation for all her motherly kind 
 ness and care ; but even this she was sure they would 
 refuse if possible. 
 
 With a sudden, pleasant thought, she unlocked her 
 jewel-case, and, taking from it one article after another, 
 pronounced her judgment upon them as suitable pres 
 ents for the girls. They were each of them too costly 
 and rich to correspond with their most elaborate toilet ; 
 but at last she selected a valuable bandeau of pearls, 
 and, enclosing it carefully in a separate box, resolved to 
 find a way to exchange it for some tasteful, but less 
 costly articles for each of them. To James she had 
 long wished to present a Bible, and laid aside another 
 eagle to be devoted to that purpose. 
 
 Having made these concise arrangements, her mind 
 was intensely relieved. She replaced the articles in
 
 JULIETTE. 251 
 
 her trunk, dropped the envelope for the doctor into 
 her pocket, and went downstairs. 
 
 The resolutions she had just formed effected a change 
 in her whole appearance. She felt stronger and more 
 self-reliant. Even her carriage was more erect, as, with 
 a flushed cheek and kindling eye, she approached the 
 table where Mrs. Smith was ironing, and playfully 
 asked for some work.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " There is a kind of mournful eloquence 
 In thy dumb grief, which shames all clam'rous sorrow." 
 
 THE morning was pleasantly and usefully employed. 
 First she pulled out some lace her good friend had 
 been starching for caps, and wound it smoothly around 
 a bottle ; then she assisted Susan in picking over some 
 dried beans for the next day's baking, the young girl 
 whispering meantime, " See how glum Maria looks ; 
 she and Dudley have had a spat. Oh, how glad I am 
 that I am not engaged 1 " 
 
 It was only when the men (as Mr. Smith and his 
 son were called) came in to dinner, and she stole a 
 glance at James's pale, grave face, with the recollection 
 of what she had overheard, that her lip quivered, and her 
 eyes grew moist. 
 
 The conversation at table turned upon the school, 
 and she learned, with a thrill of pleasure, that the young 
 man had decided to carry his acceptance to the com 
 mittee that very evening. She had been so fearful 
 that he would yield to the solicitations of his mother, 
 and leave home ! Then her self-sacrifice in quitting 
 these generous friends, and throwing herself once more 
 upon the cold world would fall short of its intentions. 
 
 252
 
 JULJETTE. 253 
 
 Toward night, the doctor, in passing, drove up to the 
 door, and Juliette hurried to meet him. Detaining 
 him a moment in the small entry, she said, "Here is 
 some money, doctor, to pay your bill. There are fifty 
 dollars ; and if that is not enough, I'll run and get 
 more, only don't say anything about it." 
 
 " Whew ! whew ! " he cried out with a laugh, "quite 
 a windfall. But, child, half of fifty dollars is more 
 than enough to pay for rny poor services. I should 
 never have charged more than ten." 
 
 "I have never paid a bill before," she remarked with 
 a deep blush. "I had no idea how much it would be. 
 You have been very kind and attentive. No, sir, no, 
 indeed ! " she exclaimed, as he put back four of the eagles 
 into her hand ; " you must certainly take half of them ; 
 take three ; well then, take two," as he firmly refused. 
 " I wont consent to your taking less than two." 
 
 " Well, I'll take twenty dollars, and thank you into 
 the bargain. Now, let me give you a receipt ; " and, 
 smoothing out the paper in which the money had been 
 folded, wrote, "Received from Miss Juliette Edwards, 
 two gold eagles in full of all demands for medical 
 attendance." 
 
 This he gave to her with a laughing remark, "That's 
 the way to do business, child." 
 
 " I wonder how old everybody considers me ? " que 
 ried the young girl, thrusting the remaining gold 
 pieces into her pocket. " You, and Mr. Allen, and ever 
 so many call me ' child.' " 
 
 "About fourteen, I imagine." 
 22
 
 254 JULIETTE. 
 
 " I'm almost eighteen, sir," she answered, drawing 
 up her form. " I suppose my hair being short, makes 
 me look younger, though." 
 
 During the evening, though she occasionally joined 
 in the conversation, her mind was busy revolving her 
 plan for leaving Stamford. At one time, she thought 
 of making a confidant of Dudley, who was now in the 
 parlor trying to reconcile his ladylove ; but finally, she 
 concluded to confide the whole to Susan, and ask her 
 advice and assistance. To Dudley, however, she was 
 obliged to commit the bandeau of pearls, with full 
 directions in writing for its exchange. 
 
 She had scarcely retired to her room when Susan 
 ran up, out of breath, exclaiming, "TIere, miss, what 
 have you been doing ? How can you account for this ? " 
 and she held up the crumpled receipt of the doctor, 
 which, in her haste, Juliette had dropped on the 
 floor. 
 
 "You can't imagine," cried Susan, "how they are 
 abusing you downstairs ; mother, and James, and nil 
 of them, but father. He didn't have a chance to speak 
 a word." 
 
 Here the wicked girl, being wholly exhausted, sank 
 into a chair, laughing heartily. 
 
 "Never mind," answered Juliette, taking the paper 
 in some confusion ; " I know they wont say more than 
 I deserve ; and I want to talk with you about some 
 thing." She then, with a heightened color, and not 
 without tears, made a full expose of her situation, and 
 the determination to which she had arrived.
 
 JULIETTE. 255 
 
 Susan, impulsive, warm-hearted girl that she was, 
 scolded, aud exclaimed, and threw her arms tightly 
 around hef friend, and declared she should never 
 leave Stamford. She go into a factory? No, indeed ! 
 Juliette might stay quietly at the farm, and she herself 
 would go, if necessary ; but finally, as Juliette knew 
 would be the case, she was prevailed upon to be her 
 confidential adviser and frieud in this sad emergency. 
 
 " James will kill me ; and so they all will," she cried 
 out ; " but, if you say I must do it, why, I will." 
 
 Entering her friend's room two days later, "I'll tell 
 you what, "she cried, "I've got a splendid plan. We, 
 that is, you and I, will go to Aunt Sukey's, that's 
 father's sister, you know, that I was named for, to 
 make a visit. I'll make an excuse to take your trunk, 
 and then, why, if you will carry out your mad idea 
 of going into a factory, you can go from her house. 
 It is five miles nearer New Haven than this is. Now 
 give me credit for being more wise than you thought.'' 
 
 " You are, indeed, my good angel, as you have al 
 ways been since I first met you in the cars," exclaimed 
 Juliette, warmly. "Oh, you did not imagine what a 
 lonely, desolate, chilled heart was behind you the day 
 I saw you there ! You can scarcely imagine, even, 
 how eagerly I watched your bright, expectant face, 
 and drank in the rich tones of your merry voice. I 
 knew at once you were a saucy girl, Susy," giving 
 her an eager kiss ; " but I knew as well, that you were 
 a warm-hearted one. I shall never forget you when 
 I'm away."
 
 256 JULIETTE. 
 
 The tears came in her eyes, and Susan, seeing them, 
 began to cry aloud, and declared that it was no use try 
 ing any longer to convince her ; she knew it was wicked 
 for her to help Juliette off. If anything ever happened 
 to her, she should feel guilty to the last hour of her 
 life. "So now," she ended, "I give you fair warning,' 
 and, before her companion, alarmed by this fresh out 
 burst, could speak to prevent her, she rushed down the 
 stairs, where the whole family were assembled, and 
 bursting open the door, exclaimed, in a loud, excited 
 tone, "Mother, Juliette 's going off to Lowell, to work 
 in the factory ! " 
 
 " Susan Smith, are you crazy ? " cried her father. 
 
 "What do you mean, Susan?" asked her mother, 
 starting to her feet. 
 
 "It's one of her foolish jokes," muttered Maria ; 
 " you forget it's the first of October instead of the first 
 'of April." 
 
 James said not a word, but he grew very pale ; and 
 there was an expression of suffering on his features, 
 which his mother too well understood. 
 
 " I know I've broken my word," continued the 
 young girl, beginning to cry again; "but I've known 
 it two days, and I should burst if I had to keep it any 
 longer. She's going away from here, because be- 
 
 CctUSG 
 
 "Never mind the reasons now, Susan," interrupted 
 Mrs. Smith, with an anxious, sympathizing glance at 
 her son, "I'll talk to her: she'll take my advice, I 
 know she will."
 
 JULIETTE. 257 
 
 A loud knock at the door startled the company ; and 
 Susan, holding 4ier apron to her face, darted out into 
 the shed. 
 
 It was a gentleman and his wife to see the young la 
 dies ; and Maria waited upon them to the parlor, and 
 then called James. 
 
 He did not seem to hear her ; but as soon as the 
 door was shut, began, 
 
 "Mother," he spoke in a voice which he vainly en 
 deavored to render firm, " to-morrow, I shall give up 
 
 my school in the West District, and go to T . It 
 
 is not too late. It is on my account, I am sure, that 
 Juliette is going away." 
 
 " But what is to hinder your staying at home ? and 
 her staying, too ? " inquired Mr. Smith, not being en 
 lightened on all points. 
 
 "I'll ask her," said the good wife, and immediately 
 sought the young girl in her own room. 
 
 After an hour she came back, with evident marks of 
 deep emotion. 
 
 " She is decided to leave Stamford," she said, in an 
 swer to an entreating glance from her son ; " whether 
 you go or stay, it will make no difference. She has 
 had it in mind ever since Miss Darley passed the after 
 noon here, in case she did not hear from her father ; 
 and now the poor thing has given up all hope of 
 that." 
 
 James's lips moved, but no sound came forth. 
 
 " I said all I could to persuade her to give up her 
 wild plan," continued Mrs. Smith ; " but she thinks it 
 
 22*
 
 258 JULIETTE. 
 
 her duty, and that she may as well begin her struggle 
 with the world now as any time." 
 
 "If she was strong and tough, like our gals," urged 
 the farmer, bringing down his fist upon the table, " I 
 wouldn't say a word against it ; but to have that little, 
 delicate creature, that has no more courage than a 
 kitten, set out alone, and try to battle her way through 
 them city factories, or anywhere else, it's what I can't 
 give my consent to." 
 
 James caught his father's hard hand, and gave it a 
 very demonstrative squeeze. 
 
 But, notwithstanding all her friends felt for her, Ju 
 liette knew she ought to go, and go she did ; though 
 not without many tears, and a sickening fear and trem 
 bling at what might be before her. Whenever she 
 stopped to question herself whether this sacrifice was 
 required of her, the conversation she had involuntarily 
 been a listener to, between Mrs. Smith and James, 
 rushed to her mind. "No," she said to herself, "my 
 money will soon be gone ; and I will never be a burden 
 to friends who have already done so much for me." She 
 promised, however, to write them often ; and, if pos 
 sible, to return for a visit during the next summer. 
 
 It was a great relief to Juliette, at last, that she was 
 not obliged to leave Stamford in a clandestine manner. 
 It was an unspeakable comfort to impart her intentions 
 to her good pastor; and, after playfully reasoning 
 down his remonstrances, to receive his benediction and 
 a letter commendatory to any church she might wish 
 to attend. But after all, it was a hard, bitter parting ;
 
 JULIETTE. . 259 
 
 and, as she stood awaiting the carriage that was to 
 convey her to the depot, and suddenly began to realize 
 the trials before her, and all that these friends had 
 been to her in her hours of sorrow, it would have been 
 an easy matter to have persuaded her, at least, to delay 
 this rude encounter with the world. 
 
 In an envelope left upon her table was enclosed the 
 ten eagles directed to Mrs. Smith, with a letter, ex 
 pressing the gratitude she could not trust herself to 
 utter. The presents for the girls, to her disappoint 
 ment, had not come to hand ; and she therefore could 
 only hint that they might expect a trifling remem 
 brance from her to be worn at Maria's wedding. 
 
 The Bible, a handsome English edition, bound in 
 maroon velvet, and fastened with gold clasps, she de 
 termined, with her own hands, to present to James ; 
 and did so, calling him into the parlor at the moment 
 of their starting. 
 
 "When you read this, dear friend," she said, tear 
 fully, "remember God hears the prayers of the pure 
 in heart ; and sometimes offer up a petition for your 
 absent sister." 
 
 James took the book, pressed his quivering lips upon 
 the hand that offered it, bowed his assent, and has 
 tened to the carriage. On their way to the village he 
 scarcely spoke. He knew his only safety lay in si 
 lence. She had enough to do to bear her own trials, 
 and he would not intrude his grief upon her. He lifted 
 her from the carriage and showed her into the ladies' 
 room, procured her a ticket for Boston, gave her the
 
 260 JULIETTE. 
 
 check for her trunk, then, taking her hand in both of 
 his, he thrust a small paper parcel within it, and with 
 the whispered words, "May God bless you and keep 
 you !" he turned away. But looking from the cars as 
 they were dashing out beyond the depot, Juliette saw 
 his pale, wistful face still watching her. With a burst 
 of grief, she suddenly covered her face, and that was 
 the last she saw of Stamford.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " When, overwhelmed with grief, 
 My heart within me dies, 
 Helpless, and far from all relief, 
 To heaven I lift mine eyes." 
 
 THOUGH the early morning had been fair, as the 
 day advanced, heavy clouds overspread the sky, 
 and by eight o'clock, the time our weary, heart-sick 
 heroine reached her destination, the rain was falling fast. 
 
 For the Jast hour the poor girl had been trembling 
 at the thought of her utterly forlorn condition. A 
 stranger in a strange land, what should she do when 
 the cars stopped ? She supposed there were boarding- 
 houses for the factory-girls ; but who would direct her 
 to a suitable one? 
 
 Her lips grew pale, and her hands numb, as with 
 throbbing nerves she ejaculated, " Oh ! what will be 
 come of me ? What if I should be earned to some 
 dreadful house? I have heard of such things. " 
 
 Suddenly a still, small voice seemed whispering to 
 her soul, "Trust in the Lord with all thy heart, and 
 lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy 
 ways acknowledge him and he shall direct thy 
 paths." 
 
 261
 
 262 JULIETTE. 
 
 A gush of grateful tears relieved her over-excited 
 feelings, and presently, with a wild whoop and a tear 
 ing shriek, the cars, ringing their bells, dashed through 
 the streets and drew up at the long depot. 
 
 The passengers poured out into the darkness, and 
 Juliette followed them. By the light from the street- 
 lamps she saw rows of carriages ; and she had scarcely 
 touched the platform before half a dozen voices 
 screamed out, "Have a hack, miss? Have a carriage, 
 lady?" 
 
 Perfectly bewildered at finding herself in such a 
 new, unprotected position, Juliette stood still until a 
 gentleman, who had sat near her in the cars, stepped 
 toward her, and said in a kind, manly voice, "Can I 
 help you to a carriage, miss? I see you are alone. 
 Have you baggage ? " 
 
 "Oh ! I thank you, sir. I am a stranger here. I have 
 but one trunk, and here is my check." 
 
 " Where do you wish to go ? " 
 
 "To a good boarding-house. I have come to work 
 in the factory." 
 
 He noticed the unsteadiness of her voice. " Ah ! " 
 he exclaimed, with a little start of surprise ; but added, 
 instantly, " I am glad that I can direct you to a good 
 place. Here, Morris (to a hack-driver), take this 
 check, and find the trunk answering to it, and take us 
 to Law T rence Corporation. Walk into the ladies' 
 room, miss, if you please, out of the damp air. Mor 
 ris will call us when he is ready." 
 
 He glanced with his keen eyes into -her face as they
 
 JULIETTE. 263 
 
 went into the lighted room, and then, appearing satis 
 fied, he said, cordially, " I am an agent for the Law 
 rence Mills. As you are a stranger, perhaps I had 
 better take you home to my wife, and let you become 
 acquainted with the Lowell boarding-houses under 
 more favorable auspices. How would that do?" 
 
 "Thank you, sir," replied Juliette; "b t I have 
 travelled all day, and am very tired. Perhaps I had 
 better go at once to the boarding-place, if you will be 
 so kind as to recommend one." 
 
 " All ready, sir," called Morris, at the door. 
 
 After a ride of about five minutes, they drew up 
 before a house very unlike her home in New York. 
 The gentleman, meanwhile, had carried on a brisk 
 conversation with his young companion, who interested 
 him more and more.. When the carriage stopped, bid 
 ding the driver wait, he ran hastily up the steps, rung 
 the bell with a quick jerk, and Juliette could see him 
 in earnest conversation with a woman in the entry. 
 
 "How wonderfully my heavenly Father works for 
 me ! " was the language of her heart. " How safe to 
 trust him ! " 
 
 "Let down the steps, Morris," called out the gentle 
 man, turning again to the woman. 
 
 Juliette alighted, and quickly ran into the house, 
 as the rain was still falling heavily, gave her name to 
 the landlady, thanked the agent warmly for his kind 
 attention, received his directions where to apply for 
 work, and saying to the woman that she wished for 
 nothing but to be shown to her bed, was lighted up-
 
 264 JULIETTE. 
 
 stairs to an apartment about twelve feet by fifteen, in 
 which there were two wide beds, and one narrow 
 cot. 
 
 The latter place was assigned to her, and then the 
 woman, a bustling person with a sharp face and thin 
 lips, bade her good-night, and returned to her busy 
 cares below. 
 
 Shutting the door, which was guiltless of a lock, the 
 wearied girl cast a glance of dismay around this 
 crowded, meagre apartment, her thoughts flying back 
 to her spacious, richly-furnished rooms in New York ; 
 and then, with a sinking heart, to the neat little cham 
 ber she had more recently occupied at the farm. It 
 had never once occurred to her that it would be neces 
 sary to share her room with another ; but here were 
 five, four of them strangers to her, to occupy this. 
 
 To say she was homesick and heart-sick would but 
 feebly express the utter desolation of her spirits. 
 Pushing a chair against the door, she threw herself on 
 her knees. "OGod!" she cried, "save me! save 
 me from myself ! Help me to be resigned to my lot. 
 Teach my wayward, complaining heart to say, ' Thy will 
 be done.'" 
 
 The rattling of the door-latch made the blood rush 
 to her very temples. 
 
 " Yes ; that's the room ! " shouted the landlady from 
 below ; " carry it right in." 
 
 It was a man with her trunk ; but Juliette glanced 
 around in vain for an empty space to put it. He, how-
 
 JULIETTE. -265 
 
 ever, soon relieved her ; for, throwing up the valance 
 of the bed, he thrust it quickly out of sight. 
 
 Taking a night-dress from her travelling-bag, she 
 hastily disrobed, putting her clothes together in the 
 most compact form, and crept into bed, trembling with 
 nervous fear lest her room-mates should enter before 
 she were ready. 
 
 Eesolutely turning her thoughts from her present 
 most unpleasant situation when she found her tears 
 beginning to flow, she repeated hymn after hymn that 
 she had learned in childhood, and presently, fatigued 
 with her ride, she sank into a heavy sleep. In her 
 dreams she was a merry child again ; and with Horace, 
 firmly holding her hand, seemed to be marching 
 through a vast open space, the end of which was be 
 yond their vision. They went on, on, on, until she 
 was oh, so weary ! But whenever her companion, 
 yielding to her pleadings, began to slacken their pace, 
 a bright, shining form appeared before them. Point 
 ing onward, ever onward, his presence at once inspired 
 new courage and vigor, until at last they arrived at a 
 mansion such as their most lofty imagination had never 
 reached. 
 
 " Sarah ! " cried a sharp voice close at her ear, " do 
 put out your lamp. It smokes, and I can't get to 
 sleep." 
 
 Juliette started up in bed, exclaiming in terror, 
 " Where am I?" 
 
 " You're in Lawrence Corporation, number five," an- 
 
 23
 
 266 JULIETTE. 
 
 swered another voice from a bed at her side ; which 
 reply elicited a coarse laugh from the other girls. 
 
 Sarah, as she was called, suddenly extinguished the 
 lamp, the odor of which proved almost insufferable. 
 
 "I can't endure this," said our poor heroine to her 
 self, after waiting till she hoped her companions were 
 asleep. " I must open a crack in the window." 
 
 This was closed, however, with a spring, and she 
 could not succeed in raising it an inch. Then she 
 crept softly to the door, and, having unlatched it, went 
 quietly to bed again. 
 
 But slumber this time was out of the question. In 
 vain she closed her burning eyes and courted the ad 
 vances of the fickle god. The loud, heavy breath 
 ing of the four sleepers combined to form a sound suf 
 ficient to frighten him away. She pressed her fingers 
 in her ears ; she pulled the bedclothes around her 
 head until she was almost suffocated. But all to no 
 purpose. The dawning day found her weak, dispirited, 
 and nervous ; in a poor frame to encounter new trials. 
 
 Arising early, before her companions were awake, 
 she went downstairs to find the landlady, fully re 
 solved upon having a room by herself. But this the 
 woman said was impossible ; every place where a bed 
 could stand was packed full already. She ought to be 
 thankful to have a whole cot to herself. 
 
 For several days it rained incessantly ; and the 
 homesick girl, regarding the advice of a fellow-boarder, 
 did not venture from the house except to provide her 
 self with a dress more suitable for her new emp*loy-
 
 JULIETTE. 267 
 
 ment, a pair of thick boots, and a bonnet that would 
 not be injured by the rain. These were absolutely 
 essential to the wardrobe of a factory girl. 
 
 During this period, the delicate beauty of the new 
 comer, her evident superiority in education and re 
 finement, subjected her to man}'- low taunts and jeers 
 of ridicule. But this was nothing compared to the 
 scoffing laugh of her room-mates when they found she 
 was a praying Christian. Her assuming the attitude 
 of devotion was a signal for the commencement of loud- 
 whispered jokes upon subjects too low to be given to 
 the reader, and at last she was obliged to postpone her 
 supplications until they were asleep. 
 
 " O Horace ! O father ! " she would often cry out 
 in the anguish of her heart, " why do you leave me 
 thus exposed to insult and abuse? " 
 
 To one of a keenly sensitive nature like hers, accus 
 tomed to the most refined society, the daily and hourly 
 intercourse with such an incongruous set was perfect 
 torture. If she bravely endeavored to meet "their 
 taunts unmoved, and to give exercise to the .stock of 
 patience and resignation she had been prayerfully striv 
 ing to gain, they met her meek endurance with ridicule. 
 If, suddenly overcome by their unkind, cutting suspi 
 cious, she gave way to a passion of tears, they made a 
 mock of her grief. 
 
 She yearned for one word of sympathy, one look of 
 affectionate interest ; but, alas ! as she glanced up and 
 down the long table, from the busy operatives to their 
 more busy landlady, she realized more than ever that
 
 268 JULIETTE. 
 
 she was alone in a strange land. Often she retired 
 from her meals having merely gone through the form 
 of eating, to throw herself upon her bed and cry, 
 " Would God it were evening ! " Then at night, when 
 weak and exhausted by excessive weeping, " Would 
 God it were morning ! " 
 
 In after years she always considered these the most 
 dreadful trials she had undergone, because her God 
 seemed to have forsaken her, and darkness, like a thick 
 curtain, shrouded her soul. It was a time, too, of 
 dreadful temptation. Finding her weak and unresist 
 ing, the arch-fiend suggested, "See what reward you 
 have gained by throwing off allegiance to me and 
 choosing God as your portion ; " while her own heart, 
 torn with anguish, feebly echoed, " Was this sacrifice 
 really required ? " 
 
 Alas ! alas ! where was her trust in Him who had so 
 often appeared for her relief, who had promised to 
 make her peace as a river, and her righteousness as 
 the waves of the sea? Her cry was with the psalmist, 
 w All thy waves and thy billows have gone over me ; " 
 but not like him could she sing, " Thou wilt show me 
 the path of life ; in thy presence is fulness of joy ; at 
 thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore." 
 
 It was on a clear, bracing morning, near the middle 
 of October, that, in company with one of her fellow- 
 boarders, she made her entree into the new life she had 
 chosen. It was a novel and exciting scene. Hundreds 
 of girls hurrying in one direction in answer to the 
 eager ringing of the bells, which, to the throbbing
 
 JULIETTE. 269 
 
 heart of the stranger, seemed to say, " Be quick ! be 
 quick ! " approached the ponderous doors, and one after 
 another were lost to view. 
 
 Keeping close to her companion, she mounted one 
 flight of stairs after another, until they reached the 
 weaving-rooms ; the immense looms being arranged 
 in tiers, like seats in a school-house. Here she had 
 only time to cast a quick glance around and notice 
 some pots of flowers in a window near her, before her 
 companion introduced her to the overseer. 
 
 A few brief questions served to convince him that 
 Miss Edwards, though a stranger to this business, 
 would soon make a profitable operative. Asking her 
 to follow him, he went the entire length of the build 
 ing, to a tier of looms near the window, where, in 
 turn, he introduced her to a tall, dignified young lady, 
 with a request that she would give the new-comer such 
 assistance as might be necessary; then, assigning her 
 one loom, which was as much as she would be able to 
 tend at first, he returned to his desk. 
 
 " Take off your bonnet and hang it there," said the 
 young lady, smiling at the evident bewilderment of her 
 new charge. 
 
 Juliette stared and shook her head. The thunder 
 ing sound of the machinery prevented a syllable from 
 reaching her ears. 
 
 "You'll become accustomed to it soon," added the 
 miss, whose name was Agnes Barnard, in a louder tone. 
 "I was stunned at first." 
 
 The sun was shining cheerfully through the many 
 
 23*
 
 270 JULIETTE. 
 
 windows, its rays falling upon numerous pots of ver 
 benas, geraniums, and monthly roses with which the 
 girls had liberty to adorn the part of the building pe 
 culiarly their own. 
 
 It was quite amusing to Juliette to see, hanging at 
 short distances on the walls, tiny mirrors (private 
 property) , of the use of which she did not long remain 
 in doubt ; for, as soon as the looms were well in motion, 
 the operatives began to unloose their long tresses, and 
 while they went on with their work, proceeded to plait 
 and curl, and beautify generally. 
 
 Then from the pocket of one and another, a clean 
 collar, a breast-knot, a brooch, or a dress-apron came 
 forth, were arranged by a glance into the tiny mirror, 
 and their toilets were made for the day. 
 
 In the excitement of her new employment, our hero 
 ine had almost forgotten the discomforts and vexations 
 of her boarding-house home ; but as she hurried down 
 stairs with Agnes, at the ringing of the loud bell for 
 dinner, she longed to ask her whether all these houses 
 were under the same regulations ; or whether t it might 
 not be possible to improve her condition. 
 
 There was no time for it now, however ; for the 
 young girl, parting from her with a smile, ran gayly 
 into another building, saying, " You've done finely for 
 a beginner." 
 
 Though only about hah the period was allowed for 
 a whole dinner, consumed in a single course at her 
 father's table, and then the earnest, quick, ringing call 
 was heard again, Juliette found time to run hastily to
 
 JULIETTE. 271 
 
 her room for a brief offering of gratitude to God for the 
 brightening prospects before her. 
 
 The more she saw of her young instructor, the bet 
 ter she was pleased with her. One incident which oc 
 curred at night impressed her still more favorably. 
 
 After the bell had rung for work to cease, a number 
 of the operatives stood outside the door, talking ear 
 nestly about a lecture they wished to attend in the even 
 ing. Agnes was among them ; indeed, she seemed to 
 be the guiding spirit, and in an earnest tone was press 
 ing her opinions on her companions, when a man, con 
 nected with their factory, came up and began to talk in 
 a most familiar manner. 
 
 Juliette shrank behind her friend, as she caught his 
 eye fixed boldly upon herself, her whole soul revolting 
 from his gaze, and rude, coarse speeches. One and an 
 other of the girls laughed as she was addressed, but to 
 Juliette's great delight, Agnes, with an appearance of 
 dignity which cowered him, drew herself up, and, with 
 out condescending to reply, swept away from the 
 group, pulling Juliette's hand within her arm. 
 
 "Why! what are you trembling at ?" she asked, 
 with a laugh, as she witnessed her little pupil's pallid 
 cheeks. 
 
 " I'm afraid I shall not do for a factory girl," was the 
 faltering reply ; "that man's dreadful eyes and coarse 
 talk frightened me so ; but here is my home," she 
 added, with a sigh ; M I wish I could go with you." 
 
 " Well, come with me to the end of the street, 
 and I'll talk with you about it. There's five minutes
 
 272 JULIETTE. 
 
 i 
 
 yet," glancing at the clock on a neighboring church. 
 " I know by experience how dreadfully homesick one 
 feels, turned, into a room with a dozen, more or less, 
 of operatives, some of them, all the time they are 
 asleep, keeping up a lively tune with their nasal or 
 gans. I bore it a good while ; but I've got away now. 
 I get my dinner at one of the corporation-houses, be 
 cause there is no time to go further ; but I take the 
 other meals and sleep in a private family." 
 
 " Oh, that would be delightful ! " cried Juliette, 
 warmly. 
 
 "There are only two girls there beside myself; and 
 I'm sleeping alone, now ; so if you wouldn't mind 
 occupying a room with a stranger, I think I can ar 
 range it." 
 
 Juliette's beaming face showed her pleasure as she 
 answered, "Thank you, it would be paradise compared 
 to the place I'm in now." 
 
 "Run back then, for to-night, as fast as you can, and 
 have your trunk all ready, if it's sent for in the morn 
 ing." 
 
 The thought that this might be her last night with 
 her present landlady rendered her trials much more 
 endurable ; and, being exceedingly tired in consequence 
 of standing all day, she found it easier than before to 
 imitate the example of her room-mates, and soon was 
 beyond the reach of any annoyance.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " The wise and active conquer difficulties 
 By daring to attempt them." 
 
 AS Miss Agnes Barnard has been introduced to the 
 reader and will act a somewhat prominent part 
 in our story, it is but fair to give her history a little 
 more at length. 
 
 In the northern part of New Hampshire, near the 
 dividing line between that State and Vermont, over 
 looking the beautiful valley of the Connecticut River, 
 was the old homestead of the Barnards, now in the 
 hands of Josiah Barnard, father of Agnes. 
 
 With a large family dependent upon him for sup 
 port, including his aged parents- and orphan nephew, 
 the wherewithal to carry on the farm was not always 
 forthcoming; and, as a necessary consequence, debts 
 were incurred, crops grew less and less, until at length 
 a crisis was reached such as had long been feared. 
 
 To avoid a greater calamity, that of being obliged 
 to sell laud, every foot of which was endeared by mem 
 ories of boyhood, youth, and riper years, Mr. Barnard, 
 with a groan, consented to raise a few hundred dollars 
 for the present emergency, by giving a note secured 
 by mortgage, to the 'Squire of the village. 
 
 273
 
 274 JULIETTE. 
 
 The next year both his parents died ; a small legacy 
 left them, barely serving to pay the doctor's bill, while 
 all other necessary expenses incurred in their sickness 
 rendered it impossible to pay off any part of this debt 
 as they had intended. The year following the inter 
 est was added to the principal , until at last despond 
 ence succeeded melancholy, and the farmer, scarcely 
 beyond middle life, declared, with a burst of manly 
 grief, that he could not meet his expenses ; that he did 
 no know which way to turn ; that, in fact, they must 
 leave the dear old spot and begin life anew. 
 
 All this time, Agnes and one older brother had been 
 attending the Academy in the next village, walking 
 eight miles a day for the sake of acquiring an education, 
 that inheritance of every New England child. 
 
 Caleb Barnard was well fitted for a teacher of a dis 
 trict school. His secret hopes had carried him much 
 beyond this ; and, though w r ell aware that he could not 
 incur the expense of a college education, he had thought 
 it possible to acquire what would be equivalent to it un 
 der the care of a private tutor, and thus qualify himself 
 for what he considered the highest office of earth, that 
 of a Christian minister. 
 
 A'gnes, fourteen months his junior, had been for the 
 last six months an assistant pupil in the school. Tall 
 and erect, with a tinge of hauteur in her manner, her 
 countenance one that would attract attention by its 
 ever-varying expression, she had won both among 
 teachers and pupils many stanch friends. 
 
 Gifted with a quick discernment and a vast amount
 
 JULIETTE. 275 
 
 of that desirable element called common-sense, she had 
 become more thoroughly acquainted with her father's 
 affairs than any one supposed. Well aware that her 
 parents had exercised great self-denial, and strained 
 every nerve to give their children a thorough educa 
 tion, she was now ready to take her share of the bur 
 den, to bring some of her young strength and hope 
 fulness to the rescue. 
 
 Walking home one night the four miles from school, 
 she had abundant opportunity to perfect the plan, which 
 not now for the first time was suggested to her mind. 
 Caleb, absorbed in reverie (unlike his wide-awake sis 
 ter, his reveries were not practical ones) , did not no 
 tice her unusual abstraction, nor, as they approached 
 the farm, did he observe the flashing of her fine gray 
 eye, the dilation of her well-shaped nostrils, accompa 
 nied by a firmer tread of her foot as she saw the wagon 
 of 'Squire Owen standing at the door. 
 
 Trip, the old family dog, came out growling his wel 
 come, quickly followed by the 'Squire himself, prinked, 
 primmed, and pomatumed for conquest. 
 
 Agnes, more than suspecting his errand, confronted 
 him with a defiant glance from her clear, unshrinking 
 eyes, made a haughty bow, -and passed on. 
 
 She found her father crouching over the fire in the 
 very attitude of despair. Naturally hopeful, energetic, 
 and somewhat imperious, his accumulation of difficul 
 ties had bowed him to the earth. He had just received 
 a visit from his mortgagee, hinting at a way their differ 
 ences might be satisfactorily adjusted.
 
 276 JULIETTE. 
 
 Now, in order to realize the state of mingled wrath 
 and consternation into which the father was thrown, it 
 is necessary to state that the name of 'Squire Owen had 
 .for years been associated in his native village with all 
 that was mean, low, vile, and licentious. To settle his 
 bill with the 'Squire in the way he wished, by giving 
 him his daughter Agnes in marriage, only seemed to 
 the despairing father in other words like selling her to 
 the devil. 
 
 " What did he want?" asked the young girl, suddenly 
 appearing in the room, like a bright rainbow on a dark 
 thunder-cloud. 
 
 Her voice was full and clear, but neither father nor 
 mother had the heart to answer her. 
 
 "I can guess," she rejoined with a hearty laugh. 
 " He came courting. He is willing to take me soul and 
 body in lieu of any claim he has upon this dear old 
 farm. 
 
 "Now, father, I want you to cheer up, and go to 
 driving the oxen with a will, as you used to before you 
 got into the 'Squire's clutches ; for I promise you that 
 to-morrow morning you shall be out of that man's 
 power, and I wont be in it either." 
 
 Mr. Barnard opened wide his eyes, groaned terribly, 
 while his wife murmured with a shaking voice, "O 
 Agnes ! you don't know what you say." 
 
 "Yes, I do, mother. I've seen what it was coming 
 to, and I've got my plans all ready. Come, father ; 
 instead of sitting there brooding over your troubles, 
 I want you to harness old Duke for me. I'm going to
 
 JULIETTE. 277 
 
 test one of ray ancient copies, ' Where there's a will 
 there's a way.' " 
 
 Agues spoke in such a self-reliant, hopeful tone, 
 that, though her father did not at all believe that the 
 work he had labored and toiled for years to accom 
 plish could be effected by the hands of a young school 
 girl, be she ever so sharp-witted, yet he looked up 
 with a tinge of his old impatience, as he cried out, 
 " I say, Agnes, what do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that unless old Duke is ready soon, I shall 
 have to walk back as far as the centre. I've business 
 to do there ; and you used to tell me when I had, not 
 to let the grass grow under my feet." 
 
 Without another word, Mr. Barnard rose from his 
 old-fashioned, flag-bottomed kitchen chair, went to 
 the stable ; and, when his daughter, having effected a 
 slight change in her dress, and abstracted from his old 
 carved desk all documents pertaining to her father's 
 business with the 'Squire, made her appearance at the 
 door, he was ready for her ; not very brisk or hopeful, 
 certainly, but still a vast improvement of his appear 
 ance when he sat over the fire. 
 
 "Wont you tell mother," she said, gathering up the 
 reins, "that I shall want some of her best fritters to 
 night, as a kind of celebration of our freedom from, 
 you know whom; and don't take tea till I come. I 
 may be late, but the children wont mind waiting for 
 once." 
 
 " Well, good luck to you, child," he answered, as 
 
 24
 
 278 JULIETTE. 
 
 she gave him a parting bow ; " but I haven't the most 
 distant idea what you're up to." 
 
 To confess the truth, the girl herself had not the 
 most lucid ideas on the subject. But money was 
 wanting, and money she must have, to take up the 
 mortgage of the 'Squire. Her own common-sense 
 taught her, that if there was no other way, it might 
 be possible to effect a transfer of the mortgage to some 
 less unscrupulous person ; but she had a vague plan in 
 mind worth two of that. 
 
 It was nearly eight o'clock ; Clara and the younger 
 boys, tired and hungry, had eaten their bread and 
 milk and gone to bed, when the sound of wheels 
 turning into the yard brought the whole wakeful 
 family to the door. 
 
 "Well, Caleb," she said in a cheerful voice, "I've 
 got home again. Put the horse up as quick as you 
 can, and come in. I'm hungry for my fritters." 
 
 Mr. Barnard was, by this time, pretty thoroughly 
 " worked up," as he termed any state of unusual excite 
 ment. He gazed searchingly in his daughter's face, 
 as, with the most provoking air of indifference, she 
 hung her shawl on its appropriate nail, and took her 
 seat at the tea-table. 
 
 Catching a glimpse, however, of his pale, worn 
 countenance, on which care, of late, had been plough 
 ing deep furrows, she pushed back her plate, piled 
 with her favorite cakes, and leisurely taking a soiled 
 document from her pocket, held it out to him, so that 
 he could catch a glimpse of the name, and then tear-
 
 JULIETTE. 279 
 
 ing the paper in two, threw the pieces scornfully upon 
 the floor. 
 
 " Agnes ! child ! you're mad ! you've ruined me ! " 
 shouted the old man, gasping for breath. "That's the 
 'Squire's mortgage, and he'll make us smart for de 
 stroying it." 
 
 To the surprise of all present, she looked coolly in 
 his face, and laughed ; a short, self-complacent chuckle, 
 that mystified them more than ever. 
 
 "I'll be even better with you than my bargain, 
 father," she cried, turning to her plate again. " That 
 document is useless ; the 'Squire will never ask for it, 
 because the money's paid ; and, more than that, I've 
 given him my answer, too ! Can you guess what it 
 was? Why, mother! you needn't shake, and look so 
 frightened. It was the most terrible blessing he ever 
 
 O O 
 
 asked for yet, with a snap on the end of it, as father 
 says ; and Major Maltby standing by to hear it all. 
 Oh, it was rich ! " and Agnes ha'-ha'd to her heart's 
 content. 
 
 But Mr. Barnard did not even smile. The relief 
 from his dreadful burden of care came almost too sud 
 denly. Covering his face with both his hands, his 
 form shook like a child. No one, not even his wife 
 had realized what he had suffered, at the idea of giving 
 up his home, and going among strangers ; for he could 
 never live in sight of that cherished spot, and see 
 others cultivating his fields, or gathering around his 
 hearthstone. 
 
 What a wild tumult swept over him in the few
 
 280 JULIETTE. 
 
 moments following his daughter's declaration ! Life 
 itself seemed hanging on her words. How she had 
 effected this, he knew not ; and at first scarcely cared ; 
 but she had ventured to destroy that paper, which, 
 ever since he had given it, had been a source of con 
 stant anxiety and terror, a kind of sword hanging over 
 his head, ready at any moment to destroy him; now, 
 for the present, he was safe. 
 
 Agnes gazed at her father with a peculiar expres 
 sion, as he sat thus ; but as soon as he uncovered his 
 face, she drew her plate toward her again, and began 
 to butter her fritters, her mother and Caleb regarding 
 her with a kind of awe. 
 
 "But, Agnes," began Mr. Barnard, as soon as he 
 could command his voice, "I can't imagine where you 
 got the money to pay it with. You're sure you ar'n't 
 mistaken, nor nothing of that kind." 
 
 "I'm sure the 'Squire thought I'd mistaken my call 
 ing, when I undertook to settle up his business with 
 him," added the young girl, with a perfect shout of 
 merriment, at the recollection of his mingled astonish 
 ment and rage. "1 expected every minute to see the 
 blood spirt out of his face. Major Maltby said he 
 would have sworn terribly, if he hadn't been so fright 
 ened, and so drunk he couldn't." 
 
 The father sighed ; " I'm afraid you've made an 
 enemy of him, child. He never forgives an insult. 
 But you can't tell how glad I am you got that paper 
 back." 
 
 "Now, I suppose, you want to hear my story ; " and
 
 JULIETTE.. 281 
 
 Agnes pushed her chair from the table, and drew up 
 nearer to the group in the old-fashioned chimney- 
 corner. 
 
 "Yes lyes!" 
 
 " Well, let me see, where shall I begin? .But first, 
 I want" to ask you something, mother." Agnes tossed 
 her head, and put up her hand as if to smoothe her 
 hair, but in reality, to conceal a blush. 
 
 " You know our parlor chamber ? " 
 
 "Yes, child." 
 
 Mrs. Barnard looked, however, as if she didn't 
 know what a room that was opened but a few times in 
 the course of the year had to do with the subject. 
 
 " Well, as we don't need it for ourselves, I've 
 let it." 
 
 "Let it! how?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. Ashley has been trying a week to find 
 a boarding-place ; and I told him you'd take him." 
 
 This time the heightened color was so evident that 
 it could not be turned off. 
 
 " Why ! how could you, child? He never will be 
 contented to live as we do." 
 
 " It's in the bargain that he's to have farmer's fare. 
 The good room was the great thing for him, and a 
 quiet place to study; but we'll talk about that to 
 morrow. 
 
 " I don't suppose father ever thought .such a wild 
 girl- as I am, could have any serious hours ; but for a 
 long time I've seen that our affairs were growing worse 
 and worse ; and that you and he were looking more 
 
 24*
 
 282 JULIETTE. 
 
 and more careworn and downhearted. I knew 
 something would have to be done pretty soon, and 
 a talk the 'Squire tried to have with me last week led 
 me to understand his wishes. Now, aside from his 
 character, I know the 'Squire will never see his fiftieth 
 year again ; and, as I'm only nineteen, I am of the 
 same mind as the girl who, when a gentleman of fifty 
 proposed to her father for her hand, answered promptly, 
 * If it makes no difference to you, sir, I should prefer 
 to have two husbands of twenty-five.' 
 
 "No, sir," said I to myself, "I must contrive some 
 better plan to relieve father than that. All the way 
 to school this morning, and all the way home to night, 
 I was thinking, and thinking ; and the result of it is, 
 that, now it's coming spring, Caleb must give up his 
 studies, and work like a man with you, sir, in trying 
 to bring the farm to. I've often heard you say that it 
 would pay well, and yield a good income, if you had 
 only money to enrich it ; so, to obtain that, I'm going 
 to Lowell next month to work in the factory." 
 
 Mrs. Barnard sank back in her chair with a feeble 
 cry, while Caleb^ now fairly roused, exclaimed : 
 "Agnes, you're a noble girl, and I'm proud of you; 
 but I'll never consent to such a plan. I'm the one to 
 leave home, if anybody does." 
 
 Agnes glanced in his face archly, arid then rising, 
 said, "Now I am going to bed ! " 
 
 "But you haven't told us, child, how you got the 
 money to pay the 'Squire. I can't sleep till I know 
 that. It seems terribly like a dream, any way. He
 
 JULIETTE. 283 
 
 said you know, wife he'd come here to-morrow 
 to know the answer to " 
 
 "He wont come for that, you may depend," said the 
 young girl, with a haughty toss of her head. "But, 
 if you must know where I found the means to pay 
 him, I borrowed the money, and gave my note for 
 it." 
 
 " Yours ! Your note ! " was the excited exclama 
 tion from father, mother, and son. 
 
 " It was considered satisfactory security against all 
 loss," she added, archly. " In justice I ought to say 
 that, as I assumed the debt, no security was required ; 
 but I insisted." 
 
 The three faces, eagerly turned toward the speaker, 
 showed that they were more and more mystified. 
 
 "It was Mr. Ashley," she added, with a deeper 
 blush. " I met him on my way to Major Maltby's, and 
 he offered the accommodation. If he continues to board 
 here, it will be paid in that way ; if not, I'll earn 
 money to take up my note." 
 
 This time Agnes made such a decided move toward 
 the door, that no one stopped her, though the others 
 remained by the smouldering embers talking and 
 wondering till midnight.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " She was the pride 
 Of her familiar sphere; the daily joy 
 Of all who on her gracefulness might gaze, 
 And in the light and music of her way 
 Have a companion's portion." 
 
 THE events related in the last chapter had occurred 
 nearly two years earlier. Agnes left home for 
 Lowell three days after Mr. Ashley had become 
 settled in his new quarters, and had remained in the 
 factories ever since, except two visits, of a fortnight 
 each, to the old homestead. The note for money 
 received had been returned and destroyed long ere 
 this ; and affairs at the farm had assumed a more 
 prosperous appearance. The timely relief afforded 
 him gave Mr. Barnard new courage ; and he went to 
 work, driving his oxen and all other business "with a 
 will," as his daughter had, urged. 
 
 A most favorable arrangement had been made for 
 Caleb to Continue his studies under the direction 
 of his pastor, in pay for which, Csesar, Mr. Ashley's 
 black horse, received a cordial welcome to the hospi 
 talities of the stable. 
 
 Much of this Juliette did not learn until a later 
 period ; but as the arrangement to remove her from 
 
 284
 
 JULIETTE. 285 
 
 the Corporation boarding-house proved successful, 
 she soon both loved and respected her new friend. 
 
 The widow Palmer, in whose family she had now a 
 much more congenial home, had one daughter, who 
 worked in the factory, and had the charge of four looms 
 near the place where Agnes stood. In this way they 
 had become acquainted ; and, finding that her mother 
 would receive a few select boarders, a pleasant com 
 pany was soon made up. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer had formerly been in affluent circum 
 stances, as many articles of rich furniture about the 
 house bore witness. 
 
 Juliette's heart beat with pleasure, as, on the first 
 evening after her removal here, she heard the full, 
 rich tones of a piano. 
 
 " That's Annie Palmer ! " exclaimed Agnes. "Let's 
 go down and ask her to sing." 
 
 Juliette gladly consented, though she had assigned 
 this evening to writing her friends in Stamford. 
 
 One piece of music followed another in quick suc 
 cession ; sometimes a march or favorite waltz, but 
 oftentimes a song, in which the others could join their 
 voices. 
 
 At last Annie, sprang from her seat, exclaiming, 
 "Perhaps you -play, Miss Edwards." 
 
 Juliette blushed, as she answered, "I used to; but 
 I have not touched the piano for some months." 
 
 Her companions were all eager to hear her ; and, 
 taking her seat, she gave them some simple melodies, 
 as an accompaniment to her sweet but powerful voice.
 
 286 JULIETTE. 
 
 They, listening with almost breathless delight, would 
 not release her until she had gone on from Handel to 
 Mozart, and from Mozart to Beethoven. 
 
 It was at a late hour that she rose resolutely from 
 the instrument, and, receiving their cordial thanks for 
 the pleasure she had given them, retired to her room 
 to fulfil the task she had assigned herself. She 
 knew her friends at the farm would become painfully 
 anxious to hear from her ; but, while situated as she 
 was at the Corporation boarding-house, she had not the 
 heart to write them ; and was well aware that, if she 
 told them the whole truth about herself, they would 
 insist upon her returning to Stamford. 
 
 Now, however, that she was so pleasantly situated, 
 and had been two days in the factory, long enough 
 to be able to say that she thought she should like the 
 employment, she resolved to delay no longer. Per 
 haps an extract from the letter may be of interest to 
 the reader. 
 
 "DEAR FRIENDS, As I may now consider myself 
 established in my new business, I hasten to write 
 you, as I promised. After the last glimpse I had of 
 James, you may well believe I had not much interest 
 in what was passing around me. Indeed, I could not 
 for a long time read a word of his kind, brotherly 
 note, my eyes were so blurred with tears at the 
 thought of the friends I was leaving behind ine. 
 Please, dear brother, accept my thanks for the little 
 parcel accompanying your note, which- I shall keep,
 
 JULIETTE. 287 
 
 knowing, should I refuse to do so, I should give you 
 pain ; but which no circumstance I can now appre 
 hend would induce me to make use of. Oh, how 
 often since I left you have I longed for one hour, 
 or moment even, to run into the pleasant sitting-room 
 to throw myself into your motherly embrace, dear 
 Mrs. Smith ; to hear your husband say, in his old 
 friendly way, ' Our lily is brightening up, wife ; ' to 
 feel the warm grasp of James's hand ; to receive 
 Maria's kiss, and Susan's cheerful welcome ! I hardly 
 dare tell you how my heart achecl when I remembered 
 that it must be months before such a visit could be 
 
 made I did not go out of the house 
 
 last Sabbath, as it was very rainy ; but from what I 
 
 hear of Mr. B , and his kind interest in the 
 
 operatives, I think I shall attend his church ; and, if 
 so, I shall carry him my letter from Mr. Allen. 
 When you write, I want to hear all the news ; whether 
 James continues to like his school ; how Dudley suc 
 ceeded in doing my business ; how far Mr. Smith has 
 proceeded with his fall ploughing ; and how soon you, 
 girls, return to school. 
 
 " It is nearly eleven o'clock, and I must stop writing 
 and go to bed ; if not on my own account, for the 
 sake of my room-mate, who has been trying to sleep 
 for an hour. 
 
 " Your grateful friend, 
 
 "JULIETTE. 
 
 "P. S. I fairly long for a bowl of your good bread 
 and milk ! "
 
 288 JULIETTE. 
 
 This epistle was received with great joy at the 
 farm ; and Susan lost scarcely a moment in commenc 
 ing her reply, which she sent off by return of mail. 
 
 " O Juliette ! What a naughty, naughty girl you 
 are ! I wouldn't have believed such wickedness of 
 you. No wonder you cried in the cars. I have no 
 doubt your left ear tingled dreadfully, for we all 
 abused you, calling you all manner of hard names. 
 I shall throw up all faith in signs if your ear didn't 
 burn then. Father said, by way of excuse for you, 
 that you were a poor, innocent thing, not knowing the 
 ways of the wicked world, or you wouldn't have gone 
 and left such a host of money behind you. Then, 
 when I said, 'I'll bet anything it was every cent 
 she had,' mother sat down and began to cry, 
 while James grew red and white, and all manner of 
 colors, and flew round like one distracted ; and then 
 volunteered to go right after you and bring you back. 
 
 " Maria was the only reasonable one among us ; and 
 she brought us to our senses by saying, ' James, how 
 like a fool you act ! Just as if you couldn't change 
 the eagles into bills, and send them to Lowell any 
 day.' 
 
 " So, Miss Edwards, that is what we intend to do, 
 as soon as we find that this letter reaches you safely. 
 
 " Father, mother, and all of us want me to say that 
 it was a great comfort to have you here. (Mother 
 misses you dreadfully about her caps, and can't be 
 persuaded to put on a decent one. She's saving all
 
 JULIETTE. 289 
 
 that boxful you did up for her for Maria's wed 
 ding, because, she says, with a terrible sigh, 'I've 
 no Juliette to do any more.') So they don't want one 
 cent of pay. Please excuse my long parenthesis ; but 
 when I write letters I must put down just what comes 
 into my head, Miss Cook, my composition teacher, 
 notwithstanding. 
 
 "Now I have scolded you enough for that, I hope, to 
 make you feel the enormity of your guilt, so I will go 
 on to something else. 
 
 "Two days after you left, Dudley came walking in 
 one evening, with a kind of mysterious, pompous air, 
 which I was sure betokened no good. After we had 
 teased him a while, he produced from somewhere two 
 boxes, and gave them to Maria and me. They con 
 tained the most exquisite pearl brooches and bracelets 
 that ever were made. Maria fairly danced with de 
 light, and I really believe wanted to be married the 
 next day in order to wear hers. 
 
 " I, being one of the calm kind, you know, and, hav 
 ing no lover in prospect even, you can easily imagine, 
 sat down and folded my hands demurely across my lap, 
 moralizing upon the vanities of this awful world. 
 
 " But you ought to have seen James when Dudley 
 told him the two sets cost seventy-five dollars. He 
 covered his face and fairly groaned ; and, until your 
 good letter came, continued to torture himself and us 
 with visions of you lying in the gutters, or by the way 
 side starving to death, with no good Samaritan at hand 
 to take you up and minister to your necessities. I 
 25
 
 290 JULIETTE. 
 
 believe he is doing well in school; at any rate, the 
 scholars like him. 
 
 "Now, my dear little Juliette, if you will listen to 
 the advice of one much wiser, if not older, than your 
 self, you will be less extravagant in your presents (the 
 doctor told us that you tried to force fifty dollars upon 
 him), and lay up your money for more useful purposes. 
 
 " With love and best wishes of all, including Dudley, 
 your friend, Susr. 
 
 "P. S. Father's all done ploughing, except the 
 place for the summer garden, and we're going to school 
 two weeks after Thanksgiving." 
 
 This letter, so -characteristic of her friend, Juliette 
 had many a laugh over, and, at last, as she grew more 
 intimate with Agnes, read it to her. 
 
 The close intimacy which soon existed between these 
 young girls was a benefit to both of them. Agnes, 
 older by only two years than her friend, was ten years 
 in advance of her in maturity and practical knowledge.- 
 Circumstances had wonderfully developed her powers, 
 and, being naturally confident and self-reliant, she had 
 made her way into her present position with far less to 
 wound and shock her sensibilities than Juliette could 
 have done. 
 
 All that she had learned by experience was now 
 freely imparted to the young girl, who so trustingly 
 confided in her for protection. 
 
 Agnes had been from infancy an ardent lover of 
 music: From the solemn notes of the church-organ to
 
 JULIETTE. 291 
 
 the merry whistle of the boys in the street, every sound 
 of melody inspirited her. But she had never enjoyed 
 an opportunity to gratify this fondness by learning the 
 science of music. 
 
 Night after night she pleaded with Juliette for one 
 more, and then one more song, her whole soul en 
 tranced, as 
 * 
 
 " At last a soft and solemn breathing sound 
 Rose like a stream of rich distilled perfumes, 
 And stole upon the air." 
 
 " Why don't you learn to play ? " asked our heroine 
 one night, as, after they retired to their room, Agnes 
 continued to sing snatches of the last piece she had 
 performed. 
 
 A loud, though rather heartless, laugh was the only 
 reply. 
 
 " I'll teach you, if Mrs. Palmer will allow her piano 
 to be used," added Juliette, more earnestly. 
 
 Agnes caught her breath with delight. " Are you in 
 earnest?" she inquired, eagerly. 
 
 " Certainly I am. You have such a taste for music, 
 and have learned so readily to read it, I have no doubt 
 you would make a good performer. The time for 
 practice is all you would need." 
 
 "Don't, don't raise any objection now! You have 
 put the cup to my lip, do let me drink it. Why, I 
 would get up an hour or two sooner and go without 
 my meals in order to learn. O Juliette ! you've worked 
 me all up, as father says. When will you begin?"
 
 292 JULIETTE. 
 
 "To-morrow night." 
 Why not now ? It isn't late." 
 " Well, I'm willing. With such a zealous scholar I 
 shall get a good reputation." 
 
 " Who lives in this house ? " inquired a gentleman of 
 
 the agent of the L Mills, as they were walking 
 
 past Mrs. Palmer's, early one evening. 
 
 " A widow lady by the name of Palmer. She has a 
 daughter who is one of the operatives in our factory. 
 Possibly she plays." 
 
 "Possibly, but not probably," returned the other. 
 " Just hear that, and the voice, too ! I declare it's 
 equal to Jenny Lind ! Do you know this Miss 
 Palmer?" 
 
 "By sight, merely." 
 
 " But she probably knows you, and I want you to 
 introduce me. Come ! " 
 
 The agent with some reluctance consented, and, 
 greatly to the surprise of the young ladies, the gentle 
 men were presently ushered into the parlor. 
 
 Juliette rose hurriedly from the piano in the midst 
 of a song, and instantly recognized in one of them the 
 person who had been so kind to her on the night of her 
 arrival. 
 
 "My friend, Mr. Mclntire," began Mr. Proctor, 
 " found it impossible to get by, and pressed me into 
 the service of introducing him." 
 
 The young lady was then importuned to go on, and
 
 JULIETTE. 293 
 
 complied with an ease and gracefulness which made it 
 apparent to them that she had been in polished society. 
 
 Following her own fancy in the selection, she played 
 and sung some inspiriting pieces, and then closed by a 
 plaintive air which melted her listeners to tears. 
 
 One of them, at least, could but apply to her the 
 words of the poet, 
 
 "Ah me ! what hand can touch the string so fine ? 
 
 Who up the lofty diapason roll 
 Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, 
 
 Then let them down again into the soul ? 
 As when seraphic hands a hymn impart, 
 Wild warbling nature all, above the reach of art." 
 
 In the course of the week following, Mrs. Palmer 
 received a note from Mr. and Mrs. Proctor, inviting 
 herself and family of young ladies to an evening party 
 at his house. 
 
 "Now, Juliette," said Agnes, with a look of mock 
 gravity, after the had been gazing with admiration at 
 her young friend, attired for the occasion, "your dress 
 is simple and graceful, but by no means indicating con 
 tempt of worldly splendor. I think it necessary to 
 caution you against pride, or rather vanity. Pride I 
 have too much of myself to speak a word unfavorably 
 of it. Your mirror, though small, tells you that you 
 look irresistibly charming, and then your whole ap 
 pearance is so recherche; but, my dear, don't forget 
 that you are only an operative, and don't lose your 
 heart to that Mr. Mclntire, who was so bewitched 
 with your music the other night." 
 
 " Thank you," said Juliette, blushing deeply ; " but 
 
 25*
 
 294 JULIETTE. 
 
 there is very little clanger of my losing my heart at % 
 present." She sighed as she uttered the last words in 
 a plaintive tone, and her friend, not understanding or 
 encouraging these sad reminiscences, quickly dispelled 
 them by leading her below. 
 
 Juliette was dressed as on the occasion of her ride 
 with James, but, as she found it was to be a large gath 
 ering, in addition, had ventured to wear her least ex 
 pensive ornament for the head, as her hair, though 
 growing fast, still hung in natural curls. But her 
 brilliant appearance excited so much attention, even 
 among their own family circle, that, had not Agnes 
 firmly protested against it, she would have left her 
 jewels hidden in their casket at home. 
 
 The party was of such a select nature, that Mrs. 
 Palmer was sure her young boarder's music was the 
 sole occasion of their being invited, though, from what 
 ever cause, she was pleased to have her daughter in 
 troduced into such company as before the sad change 
 in their circumstances she had always been accustomed 
 to. 
 
 Mr. Mclntire for an hour before their arrival was on 
 the qui vive in order to introduce Miss Edwards to 
 friends in whose presence he had been expatiating on 
 her wonderful musical powers. 
 
 Agnes, who carried herself with the dignity of a 
 queen, glanced archly at her friend as he politely 
 offered her his arm, and led her the entire length of 
 the rooms to a group near the bay-window. Here she 
 was delighted to meet Mr. B , to whose pastoral
 
 JULIETTE. 295 
 
 care she had been committed by Mr. Allen. She had 
 already called and given him the letter, and been as 
 sured of his interest in her spiritual welfare. He 
 looked so good and kind that she longed to sit down 
 by his side and talk on those subjects, which, into 
 whatever company she was thrown, interested her most 
 deeply. But after a few words with him, Mr. Mcln- 
 tire hurried her on to other friends, and at length led 
 her to the piano. 
 
 She firmly declined, however, to be the first to play, 
 but obligingly consented to follow others better known 
 to the company. 
 
 At a late hour the party broke up, Mr. Mclutire still 
 assiduously polite in his attentions, and scarcely willing 
 to leave when he had escorted the party to their own 
 door. 

 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 " Dost thou deem 
 
 It such an easy task, from this fond breast 
 To root aflection out ? " 
 
 THE excitement of this new life, the busy cares 
 occupying thirteen hours out of the twenty-four, 
 and the increasingly numerous engagements for the 
 evening, Juliette found prevented much of the calm 
 religious enjoyment she had known in Stamford. 
 
 Though she considered herself extremely fortunate 
 in finding such a home, and daily acknowledged it 
 among the blessings sent by her heavenly Father in 
 answer to prayer, it was a sore trial to her that she was 
 not among Christian people. True, Mrs. Palmer and 
 her daughter were constant attendants at church, openly 
 avowed that they respected religion, and firmly be 
 lieved by these outward observances they w^ould secure 
 the favor of Heaven. 
 
 For a time our heroine hoped that they were ex 
 perimental Christians ; that they knew what it was to 
 have the love of Christ shed abroad in their own souls ; 
 to feel the power of religion shaping their characters 
 and ruling their lives. But she was at length obliged to 
 acknowledge to herself that she had been mistaken. 
 
 296
 
 JULIETTE. 297 
 
 She was often deeply pained by remarks, made at table 
 and elsewhere, ridiculing those who believe in con 
 verting grace, and the offices of the Holy Spirit in 
 renewing and sanctifying the heart. 
 
 Then the Sabbath, instead of being welcomed with 
 delight, was deemed insufferably dull and tedious, 
 unless there was some exciting novel at hand to 
 beguile the weary hours. There was no recognition 
 in this family of the Bible, nor of the God of the 
 Bible. 
 
 With the exception of Juliette, all the boarders 
 shared the feelings of their landlady on this most 
 important subject. On the first evening of her arrival, 
 when at a late hour she finished writing to her Stam 
 ford friends, and took her Bible to read a short portion, 
 she could see that nothing but politeness prevented 
 Agnes from joking her upon her piety. As she arose 
 from her knees, after a hurried effort to commend 
 herself to God, there was the least approach to a 
 sneer in her companion's voice as she asked, "Have 
 you any more performances before you come to bed ? ''" 
 
 But when Juliette earnestly apologized for keeping 
 her awake so long, saying that " She feared, after all, 
 she would regret having taken her for a room-mate," 
 the young girl responded at once, "It was all my 
 fault, for teasing you to sing so long; so now, say 
 you forgive me for my rudeness, and let us go to 
 sleep." 
 
 On Sabbath morning, which occurred after Juliette 
 had been in the family four days, the bell, which
 
 298 JULIETTE. 
 
 usually called them up to prepare for breakfast, was 
 delayed until eight, and the meal was not finished by 
 nine. The hour and a half before morning service 
 was passed in dressing for church, or in chatting 
 merrily over the events of the past week. 
 
 Juliette, having arisen at the usual hour, silently 
 dressed, and, throwing a shawl over her shoulders, 
 began to read her portion of Scripture for the day. 
 But, after a while, finding it very cool, softly de 
 scended to the parlor, the coal fire in the grate being 
 kept over night, and here enjoyed a delightful season 
 by herself. Here, too, she made many resolutions of 
 living in such a way that, by her example, she might 
 win those about her to the love of her dear Saviour. 
 She determined, also, to seek an opportunity of con 
 versing with Agnes upon the subject of personal 
 religion, and to press upon her the claims of her 
 crucified Lord. 
 
 When the first bell rang, she went to her foom to 
 prepare for church, so as to be in readiness to attend 
 the Sabbath school, which was held before the first 
 service. 
 
 It was in vain, however, that she urged Agnes to 
 accompany her. A significant shrug of the shoulders, 
 together with the remark, " If I attend church twice, 
 it will be as much as can be expected of me," proved 
 to her friend, that as yet, she had no realizing sense 
 of her guilt as a sinner before God, and therefore no 
 desire to appropriate to herself the rich offers of me 
 diation by his Son.
 
 JULIETTE. 299 
 
 Though disappointed in being obliged to make her 
 way alone among strangers, yet she was comforted by 
 the thought that all those who thus met together 
 assembled for the same purpose which drew her there ; 
 and that here she might find that delightful Christian 
 companionship which was denied her at home. 
 
 She had scarcely entered the large vestry, before 
 she perceived Mr. Mclutire eagerly approaching her. 
 
 " Will you take a class, Miss Edwards ?" he inquired, 
 after showing her to a seat ; " or would you prefer to 
 join one of the Bible classes ? " 
 
 Juliette blushingly replied that she should much 
 prefer the latter, unless her services as teacher were 
 really needed. 
 
 "Excuse me for asking, Miss Edwards. Are you 
 a professor of religion? Some of our church are 
 strenuous that none others should be placed in that 
 responsible office." 
 
 "I belong to Mr. Allen's church, in Stamford, was 
 the modest reply, and brought a letter from him to 
 Mr. B ." 
 
 " Oh, I am very glad ! " and he gave her a searching 
 look. " There are a number of small classes in need 
 of teachers ; but as they are mostly foreigners, perhaps 
 you would object." 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed ! not on that account. If they will 
 consent to try me, I shall be most happy to render 
 myself useful." 
 
 " There is every opportunity to do them good," he 
 added. "There, yonder, is a class of bright-eyed
 
 300 JULIETTE. 
 
 Germans. I will introduce you to them, now if you 
 please, as I see the superintendent is almost ready to 
 call the school to order for prayer." 
 
 Our young teacher was so delighted with her new 
 employment that she could scarcely believe an hour 
 had passed, when the ringing of the bell for public 
 service warned the superintendent that it was time to 
 close the school. With all her heart she joined in the 
 closing hymn," 
 
 " Blest be the tie that binds 
 
 Our hearts in Christian love ; 
 The fellowship of kindred minds 
 Is like to that above. ' 
 
 " We share our mutual woes, 
 Our mutual burdens bear ; 
 And often for each other flows 
 The sympathizing tear." 
 
 The instant the singing was ended, Mr. Mclntire 
 was by her side, to ask whether he might have the 
 pleasure of waiting upon her to a pew. So she had 
 only time to smile and bow her farewell to her class, 
 and express a hope she should find them all in their 
 places on the next Sabbath, before she found herself 
 walking up the steps into the church. She was a little 
 disappointed at this attention, for she preferred to 
 hire a regular seat of the sexton, to which she could 
 go unattended. But even this slight trouble was 
 dispelled, when, as they passed through the porch, he 
 whispered, "This is a good seat; and, as it is vacant, 
 I can secure it for you permanently, if you wish it."
 
 JULIETTE. 301 
 
 Mr. B was already in the desk, and she speedily 
 
 forgot everything else in her interest in the services. 
 As she stood up with the assembled congregation to 
 receive the benediction, her heart fervently responded 
 to the words of the Psalmist, " I had rather be a door 
 keeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the 
 tents of wickedness." 
 
 After tea the question was asked whether any one 
 was going out to the evening service ? Mrs. Palmer 
 replied, with a suppressed yawn, "that she was too 
 tired." The daughter echoed this sentiment, while 
 Agnes laughingly declared, " she thought two meetings 
 quite enough for one day." 
 
 Juliette, looking brighter and fresher than any 
 of them, had just confessed that she should enjoy 
 going out again, when a quick ring was heard at the 
 door, and Mr. Mclntire's voice directing the servant 
 to ask her whether she purposed to attend the evening 
 service. 
 
 She went herself to thank him for calling ; but 
 declined to accompany him, and returned to the par 
 lor to find herself the object at which all their jokes 
 were to be aimed. She was glad, therefore, to take 
 her seat at the piano to put a stop to them, though 
 she refused, to take a part in any but sacred music. 
 
 From this time, her position as an uncompromising 
 
 disciple of Christ was well understood, and as she 
 
 became more known and appreciated, the love and 
 
 respect which she won for herself prevented the ex- 
 
 26
 
 302 JULIETTE. 
 
 pression, in her presence, of opinions such as had 
 heretofore been a source of much pain to her. 
 
 She soon became so much attached to her class of 
 German girls, that no weather, however severe, 
 detained her from meeting them. When Agnes or 
 her other friends remonstrated, she reminded them 
 that the wintry storms did not prevent her going to 
 her regular employment through the week, and, there 
 fore, ought not to detain her from doing what good 
 was in her power on the Sabbath. 
 
 But there was another reason, and an increasingly 
 urgent one, why she feared she must, for a time, 
 resign her class. By some means or other, Mr. Mc- 
 Intire always contrived to meet her soon after she left 
 the house, and walk by her side to the vestry. If, in 
 order to avoid this, she started earlier, still he joined 
 her, carried her books, held the umbrella when it was 
 storming, or insisted upon giving her the aid of his arm 
 when the ice or snow rendered the walking insecure. 
 
 To be sure there was nothing in his manners 
 unpleasant, nor in his conversation unsuited to the day. 
 On other occasions (for he took frequent opportu 
 nities to call through the week) , he was lively and full 
 of wit ; but, on the Sabbath, humble and devout. 
 She often heard him spoken of, as an earnest, working 
 Christian ; and, from his position as assistant superin 
 tendent, she supposed he was generally respected. 
 She would have liked him as a friend ; but shuddered 
 at the bare idea of receiving his attentions in any 
 other light.
 
 i 
 JULIETTE. 303 
 
 For the last week or two, when he called, he had 
 inquired for her by name ; and, if she had not in 
 sisted upon the family remaining, would have been 
 obliged to receive him alone in the parlor. As his 
 manner became more tender and empresse, she was 
 conscious of becoming reserved ; and most ardently 
 hoped he would understand this as a check upon his 
 attentions. Twice she remained writing in the dining- 
 room when he asked for her, sending word she was 
 particularly engaged. But this, instead of damping 
 his ardor, only inspired the young man to fresh vigor 
 in the pursuit; and Juliette, deeply pained at the 
 situation in which he had placed her, was meditating 
 what course she ought to pursue, in order to save him 
 the mortification at length of finding himself baffled 
 in his wishes, when a letter from Stamford convinced 
 her her conjectures were only too true. 
 
 It was from Susan, and ran as follows, 
 
 "DEAR JULIETTE, As you may suppose, we were 
 all thrown into the utmost consternation, by hearing 
 from Mr. Allen, that a young gentleman, by the name 
 of Mclutire, had written him, as the only friend he 
 had heard you mention, for liberty to address you. 
 Mr. Allen did not know what to say, but brought the 
 letter to mother for advice. 
 
 "Mr. Mclntire, certainly, as our good pastor says, 
 has acted in the most honorable manner ; has given 
 
 Mr. B his pastor, and many other gentlemen of 
 
 high standing, as references, to whom your friends may
 
 I 
 304 JULIETTE. 
 
 apply in regard to his character and position in society. 
 Mother said, after she read the letter, that his heart 
 seemed fully set on winning you. 
 
 "Poor James, who has never recovered his cheerful 
 ness since you left, looked like a ghost when I told 
 him about it; but, on his return to the room, which 
 he suddenly left, bade me tell you, when I wrote, that 
 he most sincerely wished your happiness and welfare in 
 this connection, if it should take place. 
 
 "Now, Juliette, what would I give to run in and 
 talk with you a minute. I could tell, by one glance into 
 your truthful eye, after I had asked the question, 
 whether you loved this ardent fellow. I should be 
 willing to bet my beautiful pearls, though I admire 
 them so much, that there is a feeling in your heart 
 which forbids you to accept him. I have a reason for 
 this, too, that I will tell you, though mother and 
 Maria have tried in vain to screw it out of me, when 
 I declare, as I am always doing, that you'll never be 
 Mrs. Mclntire. 
 
 " Soon after you left, I was sweeping your room, 
 when a small bit of crumpled paper fell down behind 
 the table. I picked it up, smoothed it carefully out, and 
 read these words, written by your well-known hand, 
 
 " ' O Horace ! Dear, dear friend ! Where are you 
 now ? Have you forgotten your promises to your poor 
 Juliette ? ' 
 
 "Now, don't set your little heart to beating, and 
 don't blush so terribly, for no eye but mine has seen
 
 JULIETTE. 305 
 
 the paper ; and, to prove that they never shall see it, 
 I will enclose it to you. 
 
 "I have no idea what Horace this is, as I never 
 heard you mention a friend of this name ; but I guess 
 (I have a right to guess, being a full-blooded Yankee, 
 you know), that he is, or has been, in a relation to 
 you which will keep this young Mclntire from being 
 any more to you than he is at present. Do write as 
 soon as you receive this, and tell me whether my 
 pearls are safe. 
 
 " If your friend should hereafter be in want of a 
 wife, please recommend me. From what I hear of 
 him, as active, zealous, and, withal, ardent, I have no 
 doubt I should suit exactly. Gentlemen always choose 
 their opposites, you know ; and here I am ready and 
 waiting, a quiet, demure damsel, who never ventures 
 to have an opinion of her own, nor to speak above her 
 breath. 
 
 " Mother wishes me to say that father consents to 
 keep the money, but only in trust for you ; and that 
 he has put it where it will be earning interest. 
 
 " O Juliette ! how I hate to bid you good-by ! I 
 love you more than ever, which shows that I am of a 
 lovely, amiable disposition ; for if you were anybody 
 else, I should be sick of your name even. If I ever 
 do anything, no matter what, the cry is, f Why can't 
 you be more refined, or more careful of what you say, 
 like Juliette ? ' James never does this ; and, by the 
 way, he and I are getting dreadfully intimate. He 
 does everything he can think of for my improvement, 
 
 26*
 
 306 
 
 and, in return, I talk of the virtues of my absent 
 friend. 
 
 " But no more at present from your own 
 
 "SUSY." 
 
 1 
 
 This letter, which she was reading for the second 
 time, having withdrawn from the parlor to her room 
 for the purpose, she had scarcely closed, when she 
 was summoned below to meet the gentleman in ques 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" she cried, half vexed with herself for 
 becoming so excited, and sitting down again to attain 
 some composure. "Why can he not see that I do 
 not return his affection? How trying it will be to tell 
 him so I " She sighed heavily as she murmured, 
 " There is but one person living from whom I could 
 hear such a question without pain ; and he is where I 
 shall probably never see him more." 
 
 It is enough to say that Mr. Mclntire was very much 
 in earnest in his suit ; that he endeavored to overrule 
 all objections ; and that at last Juliette was obliged, 
 with burning cheeks, to confess that she had no heart 
 to give. 
 
 He walked the room in agitation for some minutes 
 before he could be at all resigned to this sudden ter 
 mination of his dearest hopes ; while the poor girl 
 wept in silence. 
 
 At last he gave her his hand, as he said, "Though 
 you have occasioned me some of the bitterest moments 
 I have ever known, yet, I do you the justice to believe
 
 JULIETTE. 307 
 
 that it was your wish, as you say, to have saved me 
 this mortification. I see, now, that I have been too 
 much carried away by the ardor of my affection to see 
 or understand any action designed to show that my 
 attentions were not desired. For my own peace, I 
 shall, for a time certainly, withdraw from your too 
 pleasing society ; but I shall always be glad to remem 
 ber that you have called me a valued friend." 
 
 . He held her hand in both his, raised it respectfully 
 to his lips, and quickly withdrew; while the poor 
 girl, who inwardly blamed herself that she was 
 obliged to give pain to all her friends, retired to her 
 own chamber to weep, and to long for one word of love 
 from her dear, absent Horace.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " I delivered thee when bound, 
 And, when bleeding, healed thy wound, 
 Sought thee wandering, set thee right, 
 Turned thy darkness into light." 
 
 DAYS multiplied into weeks, and weeks into 
 months, until the warm breath of spring began 
 to expand the buds, and clothe all nature with fresh 
 verdure. 
 
 The class of four little emigrants, with which 
 Juliette commenced her labors as a Sabbath-school 
 teacher, had increased to nine, and was one of the 
 most regular in its attendance in the whole school. 
 
 Contrary to the ordinary plan of the teachers, she 
 required them to commit a few verses of Scripture 
 each Sabbath, encouraging them to great accurateness 
 in the recitation by a reward to the one who was most 
 perfect ; and then gave them oral instruction upon the 
 duties of e very-day life, often illustrating her meaning 
 by a simple narrative. 
 
 The row of brightly beaming eyes fixed so earnestly 
 upon their teacher was in itself a proof of her aptness 
 at imparting instruction. Mr. Howes, the superin 
 tendent, frequently found himself drawn to the imme- 
 
 ' 308
 
 JULIETTE. 309 
 
 diate vicinity of her class, and, man of fifty years as 
 he was, shed tears at her simple, earnest appeals to 
 their hearts. 
 
 Even if she had done these ignorant, uncultivated 
 girls no good, the effect of this teaching kept alive 
 the devotion of her own heart. She could not meet 
 them one week after another without praying for them, 
 until, at last, her whole soul was engaged in their con 
 version. This one hour was to her, perhaps, the 
 happiest in the week ; and any unusual tenderness on 
 their part, any signs of an awakened conscience, en 
 couraged her to more earnestness in prayer on their 
 behalf. In her own experience she proved the truth 
 of the remark, " No Christians are so happy as working 
 Christians." 
 
 But the zeal for her class did not at all diminish her 
 interest in the family where she dwelt, especially 
 in Agnes, whose warm, noble heart and untiring 
 energy she earnestly desired to see consecrated to the 
 service of her Saviour. For many weeks she had 
 avoided any* personal conversation on the subject, con 
 tenting herself with pleading for her at the throne of 
 grace. 
 
 Contrary to her habit for many weeks after Juliette 
 began to room with her, Agnes now remained un- 
 
 
 
 dressed while her companion read her evening portion 
 of Scripture ; and once, when the young disciple 
 returned from the closet where she had retired for 
 prayer, she found her in tears. 
 
 " Juliette," exclaimed Agnes, one Sabbath morning,
 
 310 JULIETTE. 
 
 as the former, according to her custom, rose early in 
 order to have a season by herself before the hour 
 for Sabbath school, "you needn't move around so soft 
 ly ; I'm wide awake, and want to ask you a question." 
 
 Her companion smiled, and went on dressing. 
 
 " I want you to tell me honestly whether you go 
 Sabbath after Sabbath to teach those little dirty-faced 
 children, because you love to do it, or because you 
 think it is your duty ? " 
 
 "Don't call my dear scholars names, Agnes, and I'll 
 tell you all about it. The first Sabbath I went I was 
 a stranger, you know (I never told you how disap 
 pointed I was that you refused to accompany me) , and 
 I confess I went from a sense of duty, hoping to be 
 admitted to a class where I might be gaining instruc 
 tion ; but now it would be almost the severest disappoint 
 ment you could name to be compelled to give up my 
 scholars. I wish you could see how eagerly they watch 
 the door for me, and how their eyes brighten with 
 pleasure as I take my seat in front of them, and shake 
 hands with each one in turn." 
 
 Agnes sighed. "My Sabbath-school teacher never 
 shook hands with her class, or even smiled upon them. 
 She came in, took her seat, heard one after another 
 recite the lesson, said coolly, 'Very well learned,' and 
 then looked over the Sabbath-school books until the 
 time had expired." 
 
 "I pity both you and her with all my heart," 
 answered Juliette, with moistened eyes. Then being 
 dressed, she turned to go below, as the parlor was
 
 JULIETTE. 311 
 
 always empty at this hour ; but Agnes, sitting upright 
 in bed, said quickly, 
 
 " I've a good mind to go with you to-day. I sup 
 pose there are Bible classes for the older scholars, 
 and then I could go to Mr. B 's church." 
 
 " Oh, I should be delighted ! " was the glad reply. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer was much surprised to see Agnes come 
 to the table ready dressed for church ; and still more 
 when she found her intent on accompanying her friend 
 to the Sabbath school. 
 
 Mr. Mclutire, who still filled the office of assistant 
 superintendent, came forward at a glance from Juliette ; 
 and, at her request, introduced her companion to Mr. 
 Monson, teacher of one of the Bible classes. The les 
 son was an interesting one, and, under other circum 
 stances, would have roused the inquiring mind of 
 Agnes ; but she was studying a deeper problem. She 
 was, and had been for weeks, comparing her own use 
 less, self-devoted life to that of Juliette's useful, dis 
 interested one, and asking herself what motive -power 
 caused the difference. She knew that, in natural en 
 ergy, strength, and perseverance, she was far in advance 
 of her companion, who had often confessed that strong 
 motives were necessary to rouse her to exertion ; but 
 here she had been more than two years in Lowell, and 
 who could say she had been benefited by her example 
 or teachings ? 
 
 " How in earnest she seems ! " she said to herself, 
 as her eyes continually wandered to her friend's class. 
 She could not see the nine expectant faces turned so
 
 312 JULIETTE. 
 
 fixedly toward their teacher; but she could see Juli 
 ette, her whole soul radiating from her expressive eyes 
 as she glanced from one to another of the youth before 
 her. 
 
 She began most heartily to despise herself, and to 
 wish she had commenced earlier to imitate the conduct 
 of one so worthy, just as Mr. Monson had come to the 
 conclusion that his new scholar would not be much of 
 an addition to his class. 
 
 Recovering herself with a start as he addressed a 
 question to her, and apologizing for her inattention 
 with a frankness that won his regard, Agnes bent the 
 whole force of her mind to the subject of the lesson, 
 asking questions, and expressing her own opinion with 
 a power and originality that woke up the class and 
 delighted the teacher. 
 
 The tinkle of the small bell, reminding them that 
 the hour was closed, occasioned a feeling of regret to 
 Agnes that surprised herself. After the school dis 
 persed, Mr. Monson, with a tone of great interest, 
 urged her to become a regular member, assuring her 
 it would do both him and the class good to have 
 one associated with them so resolute in investigating 
 truth. She confessed frankly that during the first part 
 of the lesson she was so interested in watching the 
 earnestness of one of the teachers, who seemed to for 
 get there were other persons in the world except the 
 little foreigners before her, that she gave no heed 
 to his instructions ; but that for months she had not
 
 JULIETTE. 
 
 enjoyed herself more than during the latter part, and 
 readily agreed to come again. 
 
 "I saw you watching Miss Edwards," he replied, 
 more and more pleased with his new scholar. tc Wo 
 consider her a model of a Sabbath-school teacher. 
 Though looking so delicate in health, and evidently 
 little accustomed to exposure, her place has never 
 been vacant one Sabbath since she entered upon its 
 duties, while her zeal and interest in her scholars never 
 flag." 
 
 " I can bear testimony that she prays earnestly for 
 them," exclaimed Agnes, tears gushing to her eyes. 
 The next moment, ashamed of this exhibition of feel 
 ing, she turned, with almost a haughty air, away from 
 him, and hastened to join her friend at the door. 
 
 As they hurried up the steps, Juliette only found 
 time to say, hastily, "Are you sorry you came ?" when, 
 to her surprise and disappointment, Agnes replied, "I 
 never was more vexed in all my life." 
 
 The glance of sorrowful reproach from her friend 
 cut her to the heart ; and even after they had stepped 
 within the door, Agnes drew her back to add, "to think 
 I never came before." 
 
 Juliette's large eyes glistened with pleasure as she 
 waited upon Agnes to her own seat, intending, if the 
 pew was full, to seek another herself; but Mr. Mcln- 
 tire, who always seemed to be at hand when she was 
 in trouble, relieved her, by inviting a boy of ten years, 
 who had also a seat in her pew, to occupy one with him. 
 
 During the service, Juliette was almost sure she saw 
 
 27
 
 314 JULIETTE. 
 
 tears drop from Agnes' eyes ; but she avoided appear 
 ing to watch her, and afterwards thought she must 
 have been mistaken ; for, on their leaving -the church, 
 Mr. Mclutire joined them, and the young girl had 
 never seemed in such high spirits. 
 
 She talked gayly of the congregation, the appear 
 ance of the minister, who was a stranger, and the 
 choir, but not a word of what they hoped had im 
 pressed her in the sermon. 
 
 After dinner, she rose hastily from the table and 
 retired to her room, leaving Juliette for a few moments 
 below. The latter was much distressed at her levity 
 after listening to so solemn an appeal, and sighed heav 
 ily as she slowly ascended the stairs. 
 
 Her coming seemed to be unexpected, for Agnes 
 shut up the Bible, which she held in her hands, in great 
 confusion, her color visibly heightened at being found 
 reading it. 
 
 But when her friend invited her to accompany her 
 again, she coolly declined, muttering almost inaudibly 
 something about "a nap." 
 
 Retiring as usual to her closet a few moments for 
 prayer, she was much grieved to hear Agnes singing 
 a stanza of a song altogether unsuited to the day, a 
 rudeness and want of reverence she had never before 
 been guilty of. She came forth from her retirement, 
 her countenance, instead of wearing the look of eleva 
 tion and peace her companion had often wondered at 
 and envied, overshadowed with sorrow. Gently ap 
 proaching her room-mate, who sat listlessly gazing
 
 JULIETTE. 315 
 
 from the window, she kissed her tenderly, her voice 
 trembling with emotion as she said, softly, "I have 
 prayed for you, dear Agnes, but it will be of no avail 
 unless you pray for yourself." 
 
 The effect of this speech was electrical. The young 
 girl sprang from her chair, and, throwing her arms 
 closely around her friend, gave way to a paroxysm of 
 grief. 
 
 " O Juliette ! " she cried, " if you stop praying, I'm 
 undone forever ; I've tried to pray, but I can't. I 
 hate myself. Oh, I'm afraid there is no mercy for 
 me, I've been such a sinner ! You don't know, Juli 
 ette, how wicked and stubborn my heart is. If you 
 did, you'd think 'twas no use for me to pray." 
 
 The young disciple, in a tone of joyful exultation, 
 cried, "Dear, dear Agnes! I will never stop praying. 
 I feel that God has heard my earnest petitions for your 
 soul. Oh, why will you not cry to the Saviour for 
 mercy ? He has never refused such a prayer." 
 
 The weeping girl shook her head. "I can't; I've 
 tried ; I've always been hearing from ministers, 'Go to 
 the Saviour, give your heart to the Saviour ; ' but I 
 don't know how." 
 
 "If you were drowning, Agnes, and when you felt 
 the water rushing over you, you suddenly realized that 
 you were lost, and all the actions of your past life 
 swept over you with the conviction that you were hast 
 ening to the bar of God, you suddenly saw a man 
 standing near the shore with a boat, which you were 
 sure could save you, would you not know how to cry
 
 316 JULIETTE. 
 
 out, "O sir, take me into that boat, or I shall perish '? 
 Would you stop to say, 'I know I'm in dreadful 
 danger; I should like to be saved, but I don't know 
 how to ask yon to save me ; I'm really afraid I must 
 be drowned, for I can't see my way clear to cry for 
 help'? No; yon would summon all your strength, 
 and, with your whole heart and soul, utter the cry, 
 * Save me, or I perish ! ' " 
 
 While Juliette was thus earnestly speaking, her 
 friend stood with clasped hands and protruded eyes, 
 gazing and listening as if for her life. Her color 
 came and went, while her heaving breast showed the 
 terrible conflict within. 
 
 "Now, dear Agnes," added the earnest disciple, 
 "you are just in the condition of a drowning person. 
 You are sunk in a sea of guilt, until there is no hope 
 for 3^011 unless you cry to the Saviour to take 3^011 into 
 his life-boat. He stands on the shore, waiting to res 
 cue 3 r ou ; but he cannot do it until 3 r ou call, until 3 7 ou 
 perceive your danger, and feel that it is only by his 
 help that you can be brought safely to land. One 
 earnest, heartfelt cry, dear Agnes, one humble, peni 
 tent prayer, ' God be merciful to me, a sinner ! ' and 
 you will be safe, your soul will be at peace." 
 
 With a low, despairing cry, " Lord, save me ! " 
 Agnes threw herself on her knees, and buried her 
 face in her hands. 
 
 Who can describe the workings of the spirit of 
 grace? Who can tell the fierce struggle between
 
 JULIETTE. 317 
 
 indwelling sin and the mercy of God ? It shook the 
 bowed form, while groans of anguish filled the room. 
 
 Juliette stood gazing upon her, large tears rolling 
 unconsciously down her cheeks ; while, with her whole 
 soul, she besought God to hear the agonized cry for 
 mercy, and to send an answer of peace. 
 
 The first peal of the bell had scarcely vibrated on 
 the ear, when Agnes started from her lowly position, 
 exclaiming, in a tone of wonder mixed with awe, 
 "Can it be that He has heard me? O Juliette, the 
 burden which I have carried so many weeks has all 
 gone ! Can He have heard my cry ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear friend," answered the other, scarcely 
 able to control her voice. " Yes, his promise is sure, 
 ' Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast off. 
 ' Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy-laden, 
 and I will give you rest ! ' ' 
 
 " Precious Saviour I" exclaimed the new-born soul. 
 " Oh, how precious he seems now ! But I can't realize 
 that it is indeed true. I am so wicked ; I have so long 
 abused his dying love ; so scornfully turned from his 
 oflers of mercy. What if it is only an ecstatic dream ? " 
 and she turned upon her friend a glance so full of 
 anguish that Juliette hastened to reassure her. 
 
 "No wonder, dear Agnes, you are at a loss to com 
 prehend the wonders of divine grace. But it is in the 
 power of the gracious, waiting Spirit in one moment 
 of time to dispel all darkness from the hardest heart, 
 to remove the proud, stubborn will, and implant within 
 the humbled soul a spark of grace which will gradually 
 
 27*
 
 318 JULIETTE. 
 
 kindle into a flame of love and praise durable as 
 eternity." 
 
 The young friends, overcome by the fervor of their 
 gratitude, closed their arms about each other in a long 
 embrace, such as the angels about the throne, ready to 
 spread their wings to shout through heaven the glad 
 news of a sinner purified in the Saviour's blood, might 
 well envy.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "Life is real, life is earnest, 
 And the grave is not its goal ; 
 Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 
 "Was not spoken of the soul." 
 
 TWO days later Agnes wrote her parents, giving 
 an account of the entire change in her feelings 
 and sentiments ; but before the letter had reached its 
 destination, she received a note from Mr. Ashley con 
 taining the intelligence of her sister's death. 
 
 It was Tead with many tears, but not bitter ones, 
 for Mr. Ashley remarked, "We can scarcely call it 
 death, only the beginning of an immortal, glorious 
 life. For her the grim messenger had no terror. 
 With a heavenly smile, and words of welcome, she 
 greeted him as the long expected friend who was sent 
 to summon her to the Paradise above." 
 
 " We longed to have you with us," added the young 
 pastor, at the close, " and our earnest prayers ascended 
 to heaven from the grave of our departed friend, that 
 from her death spiritual life might commence in your 
 soul." 
 
 "He will rejoice with me as he has sorrowed over 
 
 319
 
 320 JULIETTE. 
 
 my wayward, guilty heart," faltered Agnes, giving the 
 letter into the hands of her friend. 
 
 " I must now begin life in earnest," she exclaimed, 
 returning from the factory one evening, having on her 
 way home pressed one and another of her companions to 
 embrace Christ as her Saviour. " It seems dreadful to 
 me to pass so many hours in tending those senseless 
 looms, when I ought to be praising God, and trying to 
 persuade others to praise him." 
 
 Neither the family of Mrs. Palmer nor her fellow- 
 boarders at the Corporation House, where she and 
 Juliette took their dinner, were long left in doubt as 
 to the cause of the brightly beaming eyes, the calm 
 serenity of the brow, and the subdued, humble manners 
 of the once haughty girl. She had formerly rejoiced at 
 the position of superiority her talents and education 
 had won for her ; but she now rejoiced more than ever 
 because it gave her influence with her friends, and 
 enabled her more earnestly to work for her Saviour. 
 
 " Oh, how I wish I could be a missionary ! " ex 
 claimed the impetuous girl, as, after the second service 
 on the Sabbath, they had accompanied Juliette to the 
 home of one of her scholars, who was sick. " How 
 delightful it must be to spend one's whole life in teach 
 ing the ignorant the name of Jesus ! " 
 
 "Yes," replied her friend, with a smile ; " but there 
 is much we can do, situated as we are now. There is 
 work for a score of missionaries in this one city." 
 
 The spring and summer months fled swiftly by, and
 
 JULIETTE. 
 
 as yet Juliette had found no opportunity to visit 
 her friends in Stamford. Susan's letters represented 
 James as at home, at work upon the farm ; his manners 
 growing every week more grave and quiet. "If he is 
 still suffering from disappointment, how cruel," she 
 thought, "to renew it by visiting him." It was not, 
 however, without keen regret that she determined to 
 postpone her visit till another summer, and accept 
 Agnes' invitation to accompany her home. 
 
 In July they had joined an excursion, planned by 
 Mr. Mclntire for their Sabbath school. Whether the 
 following proposal was a part of his programme at 
 that tune is not known ; but it is certain that, having 
 waited as long as he thought was reasonable for the 
 appearance of Juliette's lover, he took this opportu 
 nity once more to urge his own affection. 
 
 Her answer was so decided that, feeling there was 
 no longer hope, and knowing it would increase his 
 suffering to be where he could see her, he accepted a 
 good offer, and removed his business to New York. 
 
 It was a glorious day in September that our heroine' 
 and her friend, having obtained from the overseer 
 
 leave of absence for a fortnight, left the cars at E , 
 
 the nearest station to the Barnard homestead, packed 
 themselves and their baggage into the covered wagon, 
 belonging to the farm, and started, in company with 
 Caleb, for home. 
 
 He was a reserved man, but on this occasion gave 
 himself up to the pleasure of meeting his sister, and
 
 322 JULIETTE. 
 
 answered her numerous questions with playful frank 
 ness. 
 
 "Yes, father and mother are well; the children 
 more so, and Ishmael most of all. Old Duke has 
 been turned out to green pastures for the term of his 
 natural life ; having won this inscription for his 
 memory : " Served well in his day and generation." 
 A pair of steers now follow in the steps his feet have 
 trod, and the family ride to church after Caesar, Mr. 
 Ashley's horse. 
 
 "So he is still there," said Agnes, assuming an 
 indifferent tone, and hiding her blushes by looking 
 from the tiny window of the carriage. 
 
 " Of course he is. Why he's as much at home at 
 the farm as mother is, and takes almost as much 
 interest in the family." 
 
 With a sudden recollection of her cold hauteur 
 toward the pastor the last time she was at home, he 
 added, with more earnestness, 
 
 "If you had been there, Agnes, when Clara was 
 sick, and seen him ministering to her with a brother's 
 tenderness, you would have got over your old preju 
 dice ; you couldn't have helped it." 
 
 Juliette caught the sound of a low, suppressed sob ; 
 but she could not see her friend's face, as it was still 
 turned toward the window ; but presently Agues 
 spoke in a tremulous voice, 
 
 " Tell me about Clara, Caleb." 
 
 For the remainder of the ride he did tell of her 
 sufferings and of her triumphs ; of her peaceful ap-
 
 JULIETTE. 323 
 
 proach to the dark valley; of her entreaties to her 
 parents and brothers to follow her to heaven ; of 
 the holy teachings of their loved pastor, who gently 
 led her on to the very gates of the New Jerusalem, 
 and of her ecstatic visions of the joys in reserve for her. 
 
 The tears of Agnes flowed fast, and Juliette's eyes 
 glistened with sympathizing drops. 
 
 "We missed you sadly," continued Caleb. "Mr. 
 Ashley thought of sending for you ; but her death was 
 very sudden at the last, so there was no time." 
 
 They rode on in silence, and at last Agnes began 
 to gaze eagerly about, as she recognized familiar ob 
 jects. 
 
 "Whose horse is this, Caleb?" she inquired. "He 
 is a splendid creature." 
 
 "Why, it's Caesar. Didn't you know him? Mr. 
 Ashley had a funeral to attend at the West District ; 
 but as soon as he heard this was the day you were ex 
 pected, he insisted I should take him. ' Three miles/ 
 he urged, 'is not much of a walk.'" 
 
 "Three miles, why it's six there and back!" ex 
 claimed Agues, with some impatience. " I wish you 
 had refused to take him. I had rather have rode after 
 the oxen. I hate to be under an obligation." 
 
 " We're under too much to him now, to feel moved 
 at a trifle more or less," remarked Caleb, gravely. 
 "But I do hope, if you dislike him, as it seems to me 
 to be entirely without cause, you'll keep it to your 
 self." 
 
 To Juliette's surprise, the sister made no reply;
 
 324 JULIETTE. 
 
 and presently, in a gayer tone, Caleb asked, "Did wo 
 write you about the 'Squire ?" 
 
 " No, I've heard nothing." 
 
 " Well, he's married." 
 
 " To whom? " cried Agnes, with a laugh. 
 
 "To a widow lady he found in Boston. But that 
 isn't the worst of it ; they've separated again." 
 
 " Just what she might have expected. I told you 
 about my old beau, Juliette. He lives in this large 
 house we're just passing. I might have lived there, 
 too, if I had chosen, and had a Mrs. tackled on to my 
 name." 
 
 Agnes' eyes danced with merriment, while her 
 friend remarked, with a smile, "It is a fine place. 
 Those grand old trees are worth a fortune." 
 
 Every house, tree, and shrub were now regarded 
 with interest ; and, in a few minutes, Agnes announced, 
 with a glad shout, " There's home and father ! " 
 
 How Juliette's heart vibrated to these words, " Home 
 and father ! " " Shall I ever be allowed to return to 
 mine?" 
 
 The whole family quickly assembled at the door, in 
 their own peculiar way making known their joy at 
 receiving the daughter and sister. Nor was the friend 
 forgotten ; as one loved by Agues, they welcomed 
 her with all their hearts. 
 
 Mr. Ashley, whose seat was at the right hand of the 
 matron, did not arrive until they were seated at the 
 bountifully spread table. 
 
 Agues recognized his step before he entered the
 
 JULIETTE. 325 
 
 house, and was vexed at herself that she could not 
 keep dovvu the rising color. 
 
 With her eyes fixed intently on her plate, she said 
 not a word until a lad with light, wavy hair, and 
 earnest blue eyes, cried out, "There's Mr. Ashley ! 
 You haven't seen him yet, have you, Agnes?" 
 
 The gentleman entered, and with extended hand 
 approached the table. 
 
 The young girl arose from her chair, and gave him 
 hers with great cordiality. There was one searching 
 glance into his face, a rushing of blood from the 
 heart, and she recovered herself directly to introduce 
 "Miss Edwards." 
 
 He started, and Juliette turned pale; emotion not 
 unnoticed by Agnes ; but he instantly gave her his 
 hand, and added his welcome to W . 
 
 His coming seemed to produce a constraint. Agnes, 
 before so talkative, relapsed into silence, or only 
 answered briefly as possible the questions put to her. 
 
 Mr. Ashley talked with Juliette, asking about fac 
 tory life, the length of time she had resided in Lowell, 
 etc., etc. ; she answering with readiness, and appear 
 ing much pleased with his frank, cordial address. 
 
 Agnes, with a sharp pain at her heart, watched 
 them closely, and noticed that whenever Juliette's 
 eyes were fixed on her plate, he regarded her with a 
 peculiar expression. Notwithstanding every effort to 
 throw it off, her manner toward him grew every mo 
 ment more reserved. This, however, instead of pro 
 ducing an unfavorable impression on the gentleman, 
 28
 
 326 JULIETTE. 
 
 rather seemed to raise his spirits. He exerted him 
 self to be agreeable, and soon, while enjoying his 
 bread and milk, the diet to which he confined himself 
 at night, set the whole table laughing at an account he 
 gave them of a scene he had witnessed. 
 
 After tea Agnes immediately left the room, Mr. 
 Ashley following, and detaining her a moment in the 
 entrjr. He spoke in a low voice ; but Juliette heard 
 her answer firmly, " Certainly not, sir. It is not at all 
 necessary." 
 
 " Very well ! " was his cool rejoinder, returning to 
 the sitting-room. He sat down for a moment and 
 knit his brows, as if something unpleasant had 
 occurred ; but presently rallied, and carried on a 
 lively conversation with Juliette. " Have you ever 
 been in this part of the country before, Miss Juliette?" 
 
 "No, sir," she answered, rather surprised at his 
 familiar address. 
 
 " You are not a native of Lowell, I think ? " 
 
 Again he regarded her with that peculiar expression. 
 She blushed as she answered, "Oh, no, sir! I was 
 born in New York." 
 
 " Ah, well, that is a stirring city. I used to visit 
 it frequently when I was a member of Yale College." 
 
 " Indeed ! " responded Juliette, a rush of memories 
 sweeping over her, and in the midst of them a vague 
 recollection of having seen a gentleman strongly 
 resembling Mr. Ashley ; but the name, certainly, was 
 not familiar. 
 
 What should she do if he remembered her, too?
 
 JULIETTE. 327 
 
 In great confusion she attempted to turn the con 
 versation, when he added, "What a wonderful faculty 
 is memory ! Your countenance is strangely familiar, 
 and carries me back to college life and college days. 
 Did you ever visit the colleges in New Haven ? " 
 
 "No, sir, never; but I, too, have seen somewhere a 
 person very like you ; I noticed it when we first met." 
 
 Again that curious, expressive glance. 
 
 Poor Agnes, unperceived by them, had advanced 
 to the door to call Juliette, stood there a moment, just 
 long enough to see that look, and the confusion it 
 caused, and quickly retired without speaking. 
 
 "Possibly you may hereafter be able to call it to 
 mind," he remarked, with a pleasant smile. 
 
 He then began to talk of Agnes ; of the change in 
 her' feelings ; was glad to know her friend thought 
 it genuine ; should have supposed from the little he 
 had seen of her at the table that she was much the 
 same as before. Agnes had written often of her 
 friend, and ascribed her conversion, under God, to her 
 earnest prayer. 
 
 Juliette expatiated on the character of her room 
 mate ; described their first meeting in the factory, and 
 the pains Agnes had taken to provide her a pleasant 
 home. Growing warm with the subject, as she saw 
 her hearer's keen eye flash with interest, she spoke 
 of her friend's energy and enthusiasm ; how eager she 
 was for instruction, how quick to acquire knowl 
 edge, the perseverance with which she had learned 
 to play the piano, Awhile neglecting none of her daily
 
 328 JULIETTE. 
 
 duties, but above all, her untiring zeal in serving 
 Christ, her influence in the mills, having prevailed 
 upon so rhany of the operatives to join the Sabbath 
 school, that four new classes had been formed. 
 
 "And is she a teacher?" inquired the gentleman, 
 rising and looking from the window. 
 
 " No, sir. It is a rule, I think, of the school, that 
 none but professors should fill that office. Perhaps 
 it is necessary in such a place." 
 
 " Then she is not a church member? " 
 
 Juliette wondered at the apparent indifference with 
 which he asked this question ; but replied, "No, sir. 
 She says this is her home ; and it is her wish to join 
 here. I think she is a noble girl; and, though she 
 may never become a missionary, as she desires, yet 
 she will be useful anywhere. 
 
 This time Mr. Ashley walked deliberately to the 
 outer door, stood there a moment, and then as coolly 
 returned to his seat by her side. "Miss Agnes is 
 very happy in having so warm a friend. I am glad to 
 hear this account, nor am I surprised at it. She has 
 the elements which would well fit her for the life of a 
 missionary. I am not so fortunate as to enjoy her 
 confidence, but " 
 
 The lad the family sportively called Ishmacl came 
 in suddenly at this moment, and approaching the gen 
 tleman, leaned on his shoulder with the confidence 
 and affection of a brother. 
 
 Mr. Ashley smiled as he patted the boy's cheek,
 
 JULIETTE. 329 
 
 and asked, "How now, Willie, docs Csesar need my 
 services ? " 
 
 "I'll feed him, if you'll let me, sir," responded the 
 boy, his bright eyes fixed on his friend. 
 
 " You shall help me, Willie. I suppose you're very 
 glad to see your cousin again." 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ! " then speaking in a whisper, " She 
 didn't call me Ishmael ; and she kissed me, too." 
 
 "I'm very glad, dear," he responded in the same 
 low tone ; then, glancing archly at Juliette, 
 
 " This is my young friend, Willie Porter," he added, 
 bringing forward the boy ; " an orphan child adopted 
 by his uncle, Mr. Barnard." 
 
 "How do you do, Willie?" she asked, giving him 
 her hand with a smile that quite won his heart. 
 
 The boy made a bow, a natural and not ungraceful 
 one as he replied, " I thank you, I am well." 
 
 " Now Caesar shall have his supper," said the gentle 
 man, rising. "Run, Willie, I'll be there presently." 
 
 "Miss Juliette," he remarked, turning toward her, 
 " It must be I have met you before ; and yet the lady 
 I saw was scarcely older than you are now, and that 
 was four years ago. She must have been, let me see, 
 as much as nineteen." 
 
 " Which is just my age," remarked Juliette, regret 
 ting her frankness, however, as soon as she had 
 spoken.. 
 
 " Ah ! I should have supposed you much younger. " 
 And with a bow, he left her. 
 
 She went to the kitchen to find Agnes, wondering 
 
 28*
 
 330 JULIETTE. 
 
 much she had been left so long with a stranger ; but 
 the room was deserted ; and, hearing voices upstairs, 
 she ventured to follow the -sound, and presently, saw 
 the young girl weeping over a tress of soft, brown 
 hair ; her mother sitting by her side, their faces bear 
 ing the marks of strong emotion. 
 
 They started up when they saw her, and Agnes said, 
 "This is dear Clara's hair. Mother has been telling 
 
 O 
 
 me about her last hours. But you are tired, and I 
 will show you our room. It is a small one, you see," 
 she added. "Clara used to occupy it with me. I didn't 
 realize before how much I should miss her." 
 
 Their trunks had been brought up, and they pro 
 ceeded to unpack them, and hang the dresses in the 
 closet. 
 
 " How glad you must be to get home ! " remarked 
 Juliette, in a cheerful tone ; " they are all so pleased 
 to see you." 
 
 To her surprise, her companion burst into tears ; 
 but almost instantly controlling herself said, gravely, 
 "Yes; but it does not seem as I expected. I don't 
 think I shall stay as long as I mentioned to you at 
 first." 
 
 Juliette did not wonder at her emotion, supposing it 
 to refer to the decease of her sister. 
 
 "I ought to tell you, perhaps," said Agnes, in a con 
 strained voice, " that Mr. Ashley offered to give up his 
 room to you, and take this ; a civility not often exer 
 cised, I imagine. I took the liberty to refuse for 
 you."
 
 JULIETTE. 331 
 
 " Certainly ; I would not have taken his room fop 
 anything." She gazed earnestly in her friend's flushed 
 face, and was about to say, "I think you do wrong to 
 be so prejudiced against him," but checked herself, and 
 presently the bell rung for family prayers. 
 
 " How strange it will seem ! " murmured Agnes. " It 
 was Mr. Ashley's plan a few months before Clara's 
 death. Mother has been telling me about it. Come, 
 let's go down."
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " Nor less was she in heart affected ; 
 But that she masked it with haughtiness, 
 For fear she should of lightness be detected." 
 
 THE next afternoon, as Mrs. Barnard, her daugh 
 ter, and Juliette were sitting together in the par 
 lor, Mr. Ashley, who passed every morning in his 
 study, opened the door, his riding-whip in his hand. 
 "I am going to the South Parish," he said, turning to 
 Agnes, "and it has just occurred to me that you might 
 like to see your old friends there ; if so, I should be 
 most happy of your company." 
 
 The young girl was startled at this sudden proposal, 
 blushed rosy-red, but with the least tinge of haughti 
 ness declined. 
 
 "Miss Juliette, perhaps, will take your place," said 
 he, no ways disconcerted. "I should like her first im 
 pressions of our town." 
 
 "Oh, no, I thank you," she commenced; but both 
 Mrs. Barnard and Agnes urged her so strongly, the 
 gentleman reminding her that it was a fine day, and 
 not to be wasted in the house, that almost before she 
 was aware, her bonnet and mantilla were donned, and 
 
 332
 
 JULIETTE. 333 
 
 she was flying along the road after black Caesar, who 
 seemed to be in fine spirits. 
 
 After a few moments, Mr. Ashley succeeded in calm 
 ing him, and they rode on through the village in si 
 lence ; when turning a little on his seat, where he 
 could watch her countenance, he said, suddenly, " Were 
 you ever in D , Miss Juliette ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," she faltered, alarmed, she knew not why ; 
 " I attended school there many years." 
 
 " At Mrs. Osborn's, probably." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 A pause again. 
 
 " Miss Juliette, you may think me very abrupt ; 
 possibly I may excite your displeasure ; but I am a 
 frank man, and dislike mysteries. I recognized you 
 
 at once as Miss Fearing. I went to D four 
 
 years ago, in company with a half-brother of yours, 
 and passed two or three hours in your society. You 
 will not think it flattery when I say yours is not a 
 countenance easily forgotten. Knowing well your 
 brilliant position in society, you can easily imagine I 
 was not a little surprised to meet you here in this ob 
 scure place, having been an operative in Lowell, known 
 by the name of Edwards." 
 
 Surprise, joy, and grief, by turns, contended for 
 mastery in Juliette's breast while he was speaking ; but 
 joy was uppermost at hearing the name of her cherished 
 friend from one who knew and loved him. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " she exclaimed, her truthful eyes stead-
 
 334 JULIETTE. 
 
 ily meeting his; "I recollect it all, now; but your 
 name was not Ashley then." 
 
 " My name is George Benson Ashley ; probably you 
 heard me addressed as Benson ; your brother gener 
 ally called me so, as there were two other Ashley s in 
 college at the time." 
 
 " Mine is Juliette Edwards Fearing," rejoined the 
 young girl. " I don't know whether it was wise to 
 drop the last name. If you are willing to hear me, I 
 should like to tell you some things about myself; but 
 have you heard of late from my brother, from Hor 
 ace? I have heard nothing for eighteen mouths." 
 
 " He is abroad still. I suppose, of course, you knew 
 of his marriage ? " 
 
 With a convulsive sob she tried to say " No ; " but 
 from her white lips no sound could be distinguished. 
 She gazed at her companion with such an expression 
 of agony that he realized he had made a mistake in 
 imparting the news too suddenly ; though why she 
 should be thus overcome in hearing of the marriage of 
 her brother, he could not even conjecture. After an 
 awkward pause, he added, 
 
 "It may, after all, be only rumor. A college friend 
 met him abroad, travelling with a party of our coun 
 trymen. I think he said that it was one of the latest 
 on-dits in Paris that Mr. Everett was engaged to his 
 cousin. Afterwards I heard the rumor of his mar 
 riage." 
 
 Poor Juliette ! and this was to be the end of all her 
 hopes. Vague and faint as they had been, in that one
 
 JULIETTE. 335 
 
 moment that they were rudely torn away she realized 
 how much they had comforted and sustained her. A 
 sickening faintness made her shudder. She reached 
 out her -hand to grasp something for support ; a dark 
 ness obscured her vision. Her companion, hearing a 
 low groan, turned quickly to see her fall back insen 
 sible. 
 
 It was but the work of a moment to stop the horse, 
 and loosen the strings of her bonnet, which he did with 
 a consciousness of having committed some terrible 
 mistake. " What ? " he asked himself again and again, 
 "what can it be?" 
 
 With the poor girl, it was but a momentary suspen 
 sion of consciousness. With a deep sigh she revived ; 
 but there rushed over her such an overwhelming tide 
 of emotion, that she trembled like a reed shaken with 
 the wind. In vain she endeavored to recover her com 
 posure ; the dagger had sunk into her heart. " He 
 never loved me," was the conviction she could neither 
 resist nor shake off. 
 
 Mr. Ashley had never found himself in a more em 
 barrassing position, and was delighted, when, at length 
 a flow of tears gave vent to her too evident distress. 
 For a time he allowed her to weep without striving 
 to check her ; but presently began to suggest such 
 thoughts as might strengthen her faith in her heavenly 
 Father; and before the ride was ended, she became 
 sufficiently composed to relate many incidents in her 
 eventful life, already known to the reader. 
 
 "lam afraid I have done you no good, though I
 
 336 JULIETTE. 
 
 hoped to," said he, gazing with keen regret into her 
 pallid face, on which an expression of patient suffering 
 was already stamped. "Be assured you have my 
 warmest sympathies. In regard to your brother, I shall 
 take the earliest opportunity to learn the truth of the 
 rumor which has so distressed you." 
 
 She shook her head sadly, but made no reply. 
 
 "May I ask, is your friend, Miss Agnes, acquainted 
 with your real position in society ? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "May I tell her?" 
 
 "If you think it best ; but it will do no good." 
 
 This was said in such a heart-broken tone, that he 
 was obliged to turn from her to conceal a sympathizing 
 tear. 
 
 On reaching the farm, Mr. Ashley called Willie, 
 and gave him permission to unharness the horse ; then 
 assisting Juliette from the carriage, he was obliged to 
 put his arm around her to support her from falling. 
 
 Agnes and her mother ran to the door, all the re 
 serve of the haughty girl vanishing at sight of her 
 friend's distress. "Are you ill ? What has happened ? " 
 she inquired, darting a quick, indignant glance at the 
 gentleman. 
 
 "I will explain presently. Mrs. Barnard, will you 
 assist Miss Juliette to retire? The ride was too much 
 for her, and probably she will wish time to compose 
 herself. I will send up some quieting drops presently." 
 
 "No; I'll go, mother," urged Agnes. "I'd rather 
 go with her."
 
 JULIETTE. 337 
 
 "Your mother will do better now, Miss Agnes. If 
 you will sit down a minute, till I procure the drops, I 
 luive some explanations to make to you." This was 
 said gravely, and in a tone of authority, as if he ex 
 pected his wishes to be complied with. 
 
 Agnes hesitated a moment, and then seated herself, 
 while he procured a small vial from the closet, poured 
 a teaspoon half full of drops, and brought a glass of 
 fresh water from the kitchen. 
 
 w May I take them up ? " she asked humbly. " I 
 will return immediately." 
 
 He gave them into her hand without speaking. 
 
 " Miss Agnes," he began on her return, drawing a 
 chair near her side, but at once leaving it to pace the 
 floor, "you noticed my surprise at meeting your 
 friend, and probably inferred we had met before. 
 This was true. I met her under widely different cir 
 cumstances, and my astonishment, for a moment, was 
 great. You noticed, too, that I did not address her 
 as Miss Edwards. I did not choose to do so, until I 
 knew why she had dropped her real name. 
 
 " The only daughter of a New York banker of im 
 mense wealth, highly accomplished, and thoroughly 
 educated, heiress in her own right to a large fortune, 
 idolized by those who knew her ; is it strange I 
 wondered at finding her here, knowing her life for 
 months had been passed in a factoiy ? 
 
 " You were surprised, no doubt, that I paid her the 
 courtesy to offer her my room ; but I did so, apprised 
 
 29
 
 338 JULIETTE. 
 
 of her high social position, and recollecting the many 
 favors I had received from her friends." 
 
 The quickly changing color of the young lady ad 
 dressed proved her deep interest in this tale. And 
 there were other feelings produced by it which caused 
 her the keenest mortification. With a blush that 
 mounted to her temples, she sprang forward, extend 
 ing her hand, as she exclaimed, "Mr. Ashley, I have 
 been -suspicious and unjust to you. I am thoroughly 
 ashamed of myself. I scarcely dare ask you to forgive 
 me." 
 
 He took her offered hand, clasped it in both his, 
 as he gazed earnestly into her blushing face. "Are you 
 aware," he asked, with his peculiar smile, " that you 
 have scarcely looked at me since your return? Have 
 I not something to forgive there, too? I'm afraid 
 you have not told the half of your offences against me, 
 the unkind thoughts, the proud determination to 
 show me you could be as coolly indifferent as you 
 deemed me. Foolish girl ! how little you understand 
 niy heart. " 
 
 " I did not consider it necessary or proper to confess 
 my sins in detail," murmured Agues, becoming pain 
 fully confused, and struggling to release her hand. 
 "I am sufficiently conscious that, from some cause, I 
 have forfeited your esteem, and only make the ac 
 knowledgment because it was due to myself. You 
 have not yet said you would overlook it." 
 
 "No, because I have some acknowledgments to 
 make myself ; of affections and hopes cherished for
 
 JULIETTE. 339 
 
 three weary years ; affections I for a long time 
 strove to uproot, because the one I loved was, at 
 best, an unbeliever in the doctrines of the cross ; 
 affections which, now that objection is overruled by 
 the abounding grace of God, may never be recipro 
 cated. Oh, yes, Agnes ! There is much I have to 
 confess. If I forgive you, will you promise to be 
 merciful also?" 
 
 Her answer was so low it was unintelligible ; but 
 the gentleman argued well that she allowed her hand 
 to rest passively in his ; and when, at a call from the 
 stairs, she said, softly, "I must go now," he felt so 
 sure of a favorable verdict, that he ventured to raise 
 the delicate member tenderly to his lips. 
 
 One quick glance into his earnest eyes, and she 
 flew from the room to the bedside of her friend ; 
 trying to quell the tumult of joy in her heart, to min 
 ister to one so dearly loved. At any time, the story 
 of .Juliette's early history would have been deeply 
 exciting, proving as it did, the truth of her own vague 
 suspicions ; but now, as she bent tenderly over her, 
 watched the spasmodic movement of the closed eye 
 lids, and listened to the deep, heavy sighs that almost 
 convulsed the breast of the sufferer, she realized 
 through what fearful trials the poor girl must have 
 passed. Not yet aware that it was love to her Saviour 
 which had prompted the sacrifice of all that was gen 
 erally esteemed among men, she began to form con 
 jectures as to what could have produced so unhappy 
 a result.
 
 340 JULIETTE. 
 
 The supper-bell found her still with her cool hand 
 bathing the brow of her distressed friend, and, hearing 
 her father's voice below, she said, softly, "I will bring 
 you a cup of tea. No, dear, don't try to rise ; lie 
 quietly till I come. Oh, how your temples throb ! " 
 
 Mr. Ashley was quite concerned that Miss Juliette 
 remained so ill, and said very gravely, "I am heartily 
 sorry I persuaded her to ride out." 
 
 With a crisp slice of toast, Agnes returned to her 
 friend, while Caleb, who had been absent with his 
 father, since dinner, requested an explanation of what 
 had passed. 
 
 The next morning, Mr. Ashley, as usual, passed in 
 his study ; but when Juliette, having sought and found 
 comparative tranquillity at the throne of grace, appeared 
 at the dinner-table, she heard him giving -directions at 
 the door for letters of importance to be sent to the post. 
 
 Making a great effort to appear cheerful and inter 
 ested in what was passing, she could but notice a 
 change in the manners of Agnes toward her clerical 
 friend. She talked no more than before, but there 
 was a winning softness in her voice, a subdued timidity 
 in the quick casting down of her eyes, that well 
 became her. 
 
 Her brother Caleb, who had been indignant at her 
 treatment the night before, watched and wondered 
 too. 
 
 In the afternoon, Mr. Ashley brought an interesting 
 biography and read aloud to the young ladies as they 
 sat sewing ; but toward night, while hearing his* favorite
 
 JULIETTE. 341 
 
 "Willie recite a Latin lesson, he was summoned to a 
 distant part of the town to visit a sick woman. 
 
 "If it were not for leaving Miss Juliette alone," he 
 said (turning, to Agnes) , " I would solicit your com 
 pany. It would do you good to review your Latin, 
 and I could hear you on the way/' 
 
 A peculiarly arch smile stole over his face as the 
 young lady rose in great confusion, to conceal her 
 blushes, declaring she could not think of leaving her 
 eick friend. 
 
 Juliette, however, would not consent to detain her, 
 and they finally drove away. 
 
 Agnes, who had always been pleased that she was 
 able to retain her self-possession, was vexed that the 
 color would rush into her face, and that she could 
 scarcely control her voice to utter a sentence. She 
 was afyaid her companion would perceive the violent 
 beating of her heart ; and was immensely relieved 
 when he began to talk upon the most indifferent sub 
 jects. When she had had time to compose herself, he 
 referred to Juliette, and gave in detail the account he 
 had received from her lips. 
 
 "Dear girl," exclaimed Agnes, "how nobly has she 
 endured all these trials ! I feel terribly condemned 
 when I remember that I have sometimes thought her 
 wanting in courage and resolution ; but I see she has 
 triumphed where I should have fallen in the way." 
 
 tf We can seldom be assured how we should comport 
 ourselves under prospective " trials," remarked Mr. 
 Ashley. " I have no floubt, however, that it would bo 
 
 29*
 
 342 JULIETTE. 
 
 more tiying to you, constituted as 3 r ou are, to wait 
 patiently the developments of God's providence, than 
 to her. You could scarcely feel, I fear, that, 
 
 " ' They also serve who only stand and wait.' 
 
 "But I have strong hope in her case. She tells me 
 her father and one brother went instantly abroad ; 
 probably before his wrath had time to cool. The 
 other brother, whom I well knew, being his senior in 
 college, had left a month or two previous. I have 
 already written to a mutual friend, to obtain his 
 address, and shall write at once, detailing with perfect 
 frankness in what circumstances I have found his 
 sister. He is a noble fellow ; and she assures me he 
 became an experimental Christian before he left the 
 country." 
 
 " Thank you ! " responded Agnes, warmly, ." thank 
 you for this interest in my friend. She has been a 
 blessing indeed to me." 
 
 "And through you to me also," returned the young 
 pastor, deeply moved. " Can you think I have not 
 often blessed God for her prayers and labors for one 
 whose future character was to exert such an influence 
 on me and on my people? O Agnes, my faith has 
 sometimes wavered, as month after month fled by, and 
 still yon remained careless and thoughtless of the con 
 cerns of your immortal soul ! Yet I prayed and waited, 
 knowing God would answer in his own good time. 
 When Clara died, I felt that her loss must be the 
 means of arousing you ; but we see he works accord-
 
 JULIETTE. 343 
 
 ins; to the counsel of his own will. The sad tidings 
 
 O O 
 
 had not reached you when the letter came announcing 
 the glorious news of your hopeful conversion. 
 
 " I read that letter on my knees, thanking God that 
 he had listened to my humble cry. With, perhaps, 
 too great confidence, I looked forward to a return of 
 my affection, now that I could implore the blessing of 
 God on our union. Shall I go on, dear Agnes?" he 
 added, catching a glimpse of her glistening eyes, 
 " Shall I venture to interpret your conduct on the night 
 of your return, after I had taken a hurried walk to 
 meet you? Your first, blushing, friendly glance, 
 expressed this, 'You have been a good friend to the 
 family, and I am right glad to see you.' But before 
 we arose from table, the conversation, carried on with 
 I cannot tell you how great an effort on my part, 
 received no aid from you, while your manners grew 
 every moment more constrained. I was not wholly dis 
 couraged, however, because I perceived that you had 
 noticed my start of surprise on meeting Miss Juliette, 
 and I thought it augured well for me that " 
 
 " Oh, don't ; don't ! Don't expose me any more," 
 cried the blushing girl ; " I'm mortified enough already. 
 I will make any acknowledgment you wish, if you'll 
 forget all my foolish conduct since I came home." 
 
 " Even to the present indicative of the verb amo 9 " 
 urged the gentleman, archly glancing into her down 
 cast eyes. 
 
 " Yes, sir, even that, if nothing else will satisfy you ; "
 
 344 JULIETTE. 
 
 and Agnes, after one quick, searching glance into his 
 face, frankly put her hand in his. 
 
 w Now AND FOREVER," he said, in a solemn tone, 
 and, clasping it to his heart, 'Now know I that I have 
 obtained favor of the Lord, because he has heard my 
 prayer.' "
 
 CHAPTER XXXH. 
 
 " I cannot speak, tears so obstruct my words 
 And choke me with unutterable joy." 
 
 LEAVING our heroine slowly recovering from the 
 effects of her ride with the clergyman, let us 
 turn for a while to our Stamford friends. 
 
 On the same day that Juliette, in company with her 
 room-mate left Lowell for "W , Mr. Allen, happen 
 ing to be glancing over a late issue from the New 
 York press, was a good deal excited by the following 
 brief passage, 
 
 "Among the arrivals by the last steamer, we are 
 happy to announce that of Edward Fearing, Esq., his 
 son, and Mr. Everett, a promising young member of 
 the bar. We are sorry to learn, however, that Mr. 
 Fearing, having left the country in search of health, 
 has not obtained the benefit from his foreign travels 
 which was to be desired." 
 
 An hour later the kind pastor knocked at the farm 
 house door. Having inquired how lately, they had 
 heard from Juliette, he proceeded, in the presence of 
 the family, to relate the fact that she was the daughter 
 of a New York banker, and then read to the aston 
 ished group the paragraph above named. 
 
 345
 
 346 JULIETTE. 
 
 James sprang to his feet in open-mouthed wonder ; 
 while Susan laughed and cried, declared she was glad 
 and she was sorry, all in a breath. 
 
 Mrs. Smith fully agreed with Mr. Allen that the 
 young lady ought to be informed of this intelligence, 
 and Susan gladly consented to write. Cutting the small 
 but important item from the paper, she enfolded it in 
 her letter, and directed it as usual to Lowell ; but 
 Mrs. Palmer, having received no orders to forward 
 letters, laid it carefully away to await her boarder's 
 return. 
 
 Early the next morning, Mrs. Smith was surprised 
 to see James preparing for a journey. At last, attired 
 in his Sunday suit, looking brighter and handsomer, 
 as his sister said, than she had ever seen him, he an 
 nounced his intention of going in the first train of cars 
 to New York. 
 
 Susan accompanied him as far as the depot to drive 
 back the horse, and, also, to communicate the intelli 
 gence to her sister, Mrs. Dudley Houghton, whose 
 marriage had taken place in June. 
 
 It was a noble impulse which prompted the young 
 farmer to visit Mr. Fearing and plead with him in his 
 daughter's behalf. During the ride of two hours in 
 the cars he had time to reflect upon the probable char 
 acter of a man who would be guilty of turning a child 
 from his door. Wholly unconscious of the frantic 
 efforts of the father to find any trace of his lost 
 Juliette, he supposed Mr. Fearing either aware of, 
 or indifferent to, her present abode, and intended to
 
 JULIETTE. 347 
 
 base his plea upon the fact of her absorbing grief at 
 the unnatural separation. 
 
 Having readily obtained the direction to the street 
 and number, our friend James walked leisurely back 
 and forth in front of the imposing mansion ; a feeling 
 of self-degradation stealing over him as he realized 
 that he had tried to woo the heiress of all this 
 grandeur; and, when at last he slowly ascended the 
 steps, it was with the feeling of a man who was about 
 to beard the lion in his den. 
 
 Let it not be supposed that fear for himself quick 
 ened one pulse of the warm-hearted yeoman. No, 
 the fear of man was not in his category ; it was the 
 thought that he might, in his ignorance of the ways 
 of the world, do something injurious to the inter 
 ests of her he still loved. 
 
 In answer to his loud, and, it must be confessed, 
 plebeian ring, our old friend Rufus instantly showed 
 his smiling face at the door. 
 
 " Is Mr. Fearing at home ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, massa ! " 
 
 "I should like to see him, on private business." 
 
 Rufus was puzzled, and scratched his woolly head 
 to wake up his ideas. The fact was, Mr. Fearing, 
 being an invalid, had denied himself to all visitors ; 
 but this, as he said afterwards, struck him "as a 
 new kind of chap." He was sure there was something 
 "oncommon," about him. 
 
 James quietly waited until the servant had scanned
 
 348 JULIETTE. 
 
 him from head to foot, and then repeated his wish to 
 see the gentleman. 
 
 "Massa Fearing is sick," said Kufus, at length, 
 "and he isn't at home to anybody in these days." 
 "But you said just now he was at home." 
 " Oh, law, massa ! I mean he don't see any 
 body. He stays in his chamber from morning till 
 night." 
 
 a 
 
 Two gentlemen at this moment came to the door, 
 talking earnestly, but stopped as they saw the young 
 man. 
 
 " I have come some distance to see Mr. Fearing, on 
 business," said James, addressing the elder one ; " but 
 his servant tells me he is too sick to see me." 
 
 " Walk in, sir ; walk in ! " exclaimed the younger 
 man, whom we should scarcely recognize as Henry. 
 
 "Rufus, you old scoundrel, don't you know enough 
 to ask a gentleman to walk in ? " 
 
 This was aside ; and the servant answered with a 
 grin, 
 
 "I was only waiting, massa." 
 
 James followed the older one, who was Mr. Everett, 
 to the parlor, almost bewildered at the magnificence by 
 which he was surrounded. 
 
 "Is your business important?" inquired the gentle 
 man, politely. 
 
 "I'll have the horses round in a few minutes," ex 
 claimed Henry, suddenly throwing open the door. 
 
 " Very well ; " and Mr. Everett turned again to the 
 stranger.
 
 JULIETTE. 349 
 
 " I consider it of much importance ; but it is of a 
 private nature. I mean it is not pecuniary." 
 
 "Perhaps," returned Horace, with a smile, "you 
 can transact it with me, as my father is ill." 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir, in that case," and James glanced 
 with new interest at the stranger as the brother of 
 Juliette. 
 
 " I came from Stamford," said he, frankly, "to plead 
 with Mr. Fearing to be reconciled to his daughter." 
 
 " His daughter ! reconciled ! Is Juliette liv- 
 ing?" 
 
 Horace sprang forward, but immediately sank back 
 in his chair, pale and trembling with agitation. By 
 a powerful effort, recovering himself, he exclaimed, in 
 a broken voice, 
 
 "Mr. Fearing would give all he is worth in the 
 world so have her restored to him." 
 
 It was now James's turn to be surprised. 
 
 "There must be some mistake," he urged, growing 
 very red in -the face. " I understood " 
 
 "But where is she now?" cried Horace, impatiently 
 interrupting him. 
 
 " She is in Lowell, where, for a year, she has been 
 working in a factory." 
 
 "Gracious heaven ! " exclaimed the gentleman, cov 
 ering his face with his hands. "O Juliette ! Juliette!" 
 
 " She was a member of my father's family for 
 mouths," added the young man, seeing the other was 
 too much agitated to speak. " We used every induce 
 ment to keep her there, for my sisters dearly loved 
 
 30
 
 350 JULIETTE. 
 
 her ; but she chose to be independent, and left soon 
 after she had recovered from a dangerous illness." 
 
 Horace groaned aloud ; but suddenly starting from 
 his seat, said, 
 
 " Remain here. I must go and prepare her father 
 to see you." 
 
 James cast his eyes around the spacious apartment, 
 and sighed as he said to himself, " And I asked her to 
 share my humble home." Presently he heard a loud 
 scream for help, hurried sounds in the hall, quick steps 
 up and down the stairs, then a servant ran in, breath 
 less with terror, to say that Mr. Fearing was in a fit, 
 and that Mr. Horace begged he would not leave the 
 house. 
 
 Horace himself soon ran in, pale and agitated, to state 
 that the intelligence from his daughter had so affected 
 Mr. Fearing that he was in a most dangerous condi 
 tion ; but begged as a favor that the young man would 
 remain for the present. 
 
 "Perhaps," said James, "I can be of service. I 
 am somewhat used to sickness ;" and, in the excite 
 ment of the occasion, he at once threw off all the re 
 straint which intercourse with strangers had caused, and 
 showed himself, as he was, a warm-hearted, sympa 
 thizing, Christian man. 
 
 Following Horace to the chamber, he beheld an 
 elderly gentleman struggling convulsively in the arms 
 of a servant, his eyes rolling wildly and his face of a 
 ghastly pallor. Male and female attendants were
 
 JULIETTE. 351 
 
 running around the room, or wringing their hands, or 
 uttering shrill screams of terror. 
 
 Ordering these from the chamber, Horace inquired 
 whether Peter, who had been scut for the doctor, had 
 returned ; while James advanced to the relief of Ruftis, 
 suggesting that, unless a physician- soon arrived, Mr. 
 Fearing ought to be placed in a warm bath. 
 
 Horace caught at the idea, and, without a moment's 
 delay, by the efficient aid of the young farmer, the 
 convulsed form was presently borne to an adjoining 
 room, where a bath was prepared. 
 
 The happy results of this treatment became evident 
 from the relaxing of the different limbs ; so that when 
 
 Dr. M reached his patient the worst symptoms 
 
 had already abated. 
 
 Leaving James, at his own request, with the servant 
 to envelop the cold limbs with warm flannels, Horace 
 retired to Juliette's boudoir to state briefly to Dr. 
 M , the cause of this sudden attack. 
 
 In the midst of the confusion, Henry drove to the 
 door with a span of noble grays, and rang loudly for 
 Horace to join him. 
 
 He was much excited by the intelligence from Juli 
 ette, and proposed to start in the next train for Low 
 ell ; but his brother said, firmly, "That must be my 
 privilege ; and, in the mean time, father's state needs 
 your constant attention." 
 
 In company with the physician, they re-entered Mr. 
 Fearing's room, where James still lingered. The sick 
 man was now restored to consciousness, but feeble and
 
 352 JULIETTE. 
 
 helpless as a babe. His eye wandered wistfully from 
 one to another, as they stood around his bed, but ever 
 turned to the frank, open countenance of the young 
 farmer, as if in some way he connected him with his 
 daughter. 
 
 He motioned feebly for Horace to come nearer, and 
 said, in a low, shaking voice, " Leave the gentleman 
 with me while you go for Juliette. Tell her " 
 
 The features of his face began to-be convulsed again, 
 and Horace, at a sign from the doctor, said, "Yes, 
 father ; I know all you wish to say. I'll tell her your 
 arms and your heart are open to receive her." 
 
 " Tell her," gasped the poor man, with a look of 
 agony, " to for give all " 
 
 At these humble words, forced from the lips of the 
 once proud, haughty man, those standing around the bed 
 were deeply moved. Horace withdrew with James to 
 the further end of the apartment, followed by the anx 
 ious glance of the sufferer. 
 
 " You see how he is," he said, grasping the stranger 
 by the hand. "For the sake of your sister's friend, 
 will you remain with him till I return? " 
 
 "Yes," answered James, with a quivering lip, "for 
 her sake I will. do anything but violate my con 
 science." 
 
 Here was a new tie between them, and the young 
 men clasped each other by the hand. 
 
 " As he is able to bear it, soothe him with an account 
 of her love ; I am sure she love's him," with a quick, 
 inquiring glance into his companion's face.
 
 JULIETTE. 353 
 
 " As if nothing had occurred." 
 
 "Tell him so," continued the other, much affected; 
 " tell him of her life in the country ; but don't, for the 
 world, hint where she is now ; it might kill him. He 
 has sinned ; but he has suffered. Let us hope God 
 will deal with him in mercy." 
 
 Then making minute inquiries concerning her resi 
 dence in Lowell, etc., etc., and saying he thou lit 
 they might be back in three days at farthest, they 
 returned to the bed. 
 
 "I am going now, father; but Mr. Smith has con 
 sented to remain till I return, which will be at the first 
 moment I am able. He will tell you all you wish to 
 know." 
 
 He turned to leave ; but, with sudden strength, Mr. 
 Fearing grasped his hand, and, pulling him down to 
 the bed, whispered, "Tell her I'm willing now." 
 
 Not daring to trust his voice, the young lawyer 
 bowed his assent, and hastily left the room. 
 
 Henry followed him to his chamber, where Horace 
 made hurried preparations for his absence, receiving, 
 at the same time, directions as to arrangements to be 
 made for his sister. The boudoir must be restored to 
 the state it was when she left ; and, if possible, Eliza, 
 her waiting-maid, must be found and reinstalled in her 
 place. He also reminded Henry that great pains must 
 be taken to soothe and quiet their father, especially if 
 any unforeseen event should occur to delay his return. 
 
 " This young Smith is a real Godsend ! " exclaimed 
 
 30*
 
 354 JULIETTE. 
 
 Henry. "I can see -he will be the one to manage 
 father." 
 
 " Yes ; I could scarcely have gone yet without his 
 aid. Did you see how father grasped his hand when I 
 left?"
 
 CHAPTER XXXTTT. 
 
 " But while hope lives, 
 Let not the generous die. 'Tis late before 
 The brave despair." 
 
 MOST unfortunately, in the hurry and excitement 
 of the sick-room, James forgot to mention that 
 Juliette had always been known as Miss Edwards ; so 
 that when Mr. Everett, having lost not a moment in 
 unnecessary delay, reached Lowell at an early hour the 
 morning after he left home, hastened to inquire for 
 Miss Fearing at Mrs. Palmer's, he was assured no 
 such person resided there. 
 
 Disappointed more than he could express, he re 
 quested the servant to inform her mistress that a gentle 
 man wished to see her on business. 
 
 " Mrs. Palmer is sick," she replied ; " her daughter 
 and the other boarders are in the factory." 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed, catching eagerly at the idea 
 of finding her there ; and, learning the name of the 
 Corporation who employed them, he proceeded with a 
 wildly beating heart to obtain the address of the agent, 
 and get a permit to go in and begin his search. 
 
 Mr. Proctor readily granted him every help that was 
 possible, but assured the gentleman that he had norec- 
 
 355
 
 356 JULIETTE. 
 
 ollection of any weaver by the name of Fearing. A 
 ticket of admittance gave him access to every part of 
 the buildings, and a written request to the overseer 
 obtained for him the assistance of that gentleman. 
 
 "Fearing, Fletcher, " repeated the man, half- 
 aloud. "You are sure it's not Fletcher?" 
 
 "No ; I'm sure it's Fearing," replied Horace, trying 
 to conceal his impatience. 
 
 "No such person employed in this factory," said the 
 man, decidedly; "however, I will walk with you 
 through the rooms, that you may see for yourself." 
 
 Mr. Everett rea'dily agreed to this proposition, and 
 leisurely walked back and forth through the aisles, 
 casting a quick glance at each operative, his talkative 
 guide little imagining the mingled feelings of disap 
 pointment and relief in not finding her he sought. 
 
 At length, with many thanks for the politeness of 
 the overseer, he left the factory and turned his steps 
 wearily back to the hotel. 
 
 While eating his hurried meal (he had not break 
 fasted before), the thought occurred to him, that as 
 Mr. Smith had happened to mention that Juliette was 
 a Sabbath-school teacher, he might here learn some 
 thing of her. "But which church did she attend?" 
 In the midst of such a city it would be an endless task 
 to find a Sabbath-school teacher by a given name. 
 
 "O Juliette! my poor, persecuted Juliette!" he 
 groaned, in agony ; " shall I ever find you ? and 
 how?" 
 
 It had been his intention to give no publicity to his
 
 JULIETTE. 357 
 
 search ; but now he was glad to avail himself of the 
 efficient aid of the police. With a full description of 
 Juliette as he last saw her (alas ! with what a heavy 
 heart he realized that she might be sadly changed now !) , 
 and the exhibition of a tiny miniature he always wore 
 next his heart, he employed them to visit every fac 
 tory, clergyman, and Sabbath-school superintendent, 
 reporting their progress to him at the hotel every two 
 or three hours. 
 
 In this manner the weary, tedious moments crept 
 by, until at a late hour Horace, with a heavy heart, 
 retired to his chamber for the night. His first busi 
 ness was to write to Henry for more specific directions 
 from Mr. Smith, directing them to be telegraphed to 
 him at once, stating in cautious terms his entire want 
 of success'in the search. 
 
 Then he leaned his head on his hands and gave him 
 self up to his grief. How differently he had hoped to 
 pass this evening ! How ardently he had longed to 
 fold his sister to his heart, and tell her that amidst all the 
 scenes he had passed through in foreign lands, he had 
 ever been faithful to her memory, though he supposed 
 her soul had ascended to God ! Had she been constant 
 also? 
 
 How keenly now he blamed himself -that he had not 
 insisted upon learning from Henry, as their father 
 could not endure the mention of her name, their 
 grounds for the supposition that she was not living ; 
 that he had not at once returned to his native laud, to
 
 358 JULIETTE. 
 
 convince the homeless wanderer that though all others 
 forsook her, he would be brother, father, husband ! 
 
 How long he sat thus he did not know. The noise 
 of hurried steps up and down the long flights, the echo 
 of loud voices in the hall, did not rouse him from the 
 dreadful grief into which he was plunged. But at last 
 the sound of suppressed voices outside his door caused 
 him to spring forward and open it. 
 
 "A telegram, sir," said the host, "just come to 
 hand. We were debating whether to awaken you 
 for it." 
 
 Horace eagerly tore it open, and read, "Mr. Smith 
 forgot to tell you Juliette has called herself Miss Ed 
 wards. Inquire at Mrs. Palmer's, M Street." 
 
 He hastily consulted his watch, but found it was near 
 twelve; and, having learned from the landlord the 
 hour operatives were called to the factories, he re 
 quested that all further search might be postponed, 
 and threw himself upon the bed, where, in the relief 
 he had experienced, he soon lost himself in a heavy 
 slumber. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer's family were seated at the breakfast- 
 table when Hannah, the servant, entered, saying, "The 
 gentleman who was here yesterday has called again, 
 and is waiting .in the parlor for Miss Edwards." 
 
 Miss Palmer arose from the table to inform him that 
 she had left for the countiy. 
 
 As may well be supposed, this intelligence was not re 
 ceived with much calmness. Mr. Everett, having ascer 
 tained from the servant that Miss Edwards resided here,
 
 JULIETTE. 359 
 
 started forward, when the door opened, to receive her 
 iu his arms. 
 
 He sank back in his chair, and for a moment could 
 scarcely attach any meaning to Miss Palmer's words, 
 but, with an effort recovering himself, he received di 
 rections sufficiently explicit to enable him to find 
 W and Mr. Barnard's house. 
 
 He had barely time to hasten back to the hotel, 
 deposit money with the landlord to pay the expenses 
 of the search, and drink a cup of coffee, before the 
 carriage he had ordered drove to the door to convey 
 him to the cars. 
 
 It was a delightful autumnal day, the air clear but 
 soft, the sky serene. The excited young lawyer 
 rushed on after the gigantic iron horse through one 
 village after another, remembering that Juliette had 
 passed over this road, perhaps occupied this very seat, 
 only a few days earlier ; and his thoughts flew forward 
 to the moment of their meeting. As he approached 
 nearer, he could scarcely restrain his impatience ; and 
 yet among his friends Mr. Everett was considered a 
 calm, quiet, self-possessed man. 
 
 But now he was to meet one who was to him like a 
 person raised from the dead. Indeed, he had so long 
 been accustomed to think of her in the presence and en 
 joyment of her Saviour, that it seemed at times like a 
 wild dream to*be expecting to meet her again on earth. 
 
 At last the conductor opened the car door, and 
 screamed W , as if he were warning the passen 
 gers to escape for their lives. The depot was sur-
 
 360 JULIETTE. 
 
 rounded by a few houses ; but this was evidently not 
 the village. 
 
 On inquiring for Mr. Josiah Barnard, Mr. Everett 
 found his house was several miles distant. There was 
 no carriage to be hired, and the young man, fretting 
 with impatience, started to walk, when the depot- 
 master hailed a man who was going in the same direc 
 tion, and asked him to take the gentleman along. 
 
 This was on Thursday, two days after Juliette's ride 
 with Mr. Ashley. Though by no means restored to 
 her usual spirits, yet she had almost succeeded in 
 convincing herself that the report concerning Horace 
 must be a mere rumor. At any rate, she found the 
 very idea of his marriage so distressing, that she de 
 termined to regard it as untrue, until Mr. Ashley had 
 received an answer from his college friend. 
 
 On Thursday afternoon, therefore, she had been 
 enticed into a walk around the farm, Mr. Ashley and 
 Agnes a little in advance, while Caleb and Willie were 
 by her side. She wore the straw hat which James 
 had given her the previous summer, and which, being 
 trimmed with oak leaves, her companions pronounced 
 very becoming. 
 
 Caleb had just remarked that the engagement be 
 tween his sister and their pastor had taken him entirely 
 by surprise, when Willie shouted, "Agnes, there's 
 'Squire Owen coming to see you, I guess ; " and an 
 open wagon was seen driving slowly toward them. 
 
 Agues turned her face haughtily in the opposite 
 direction ; but Juliette, who was curious to see one
 
 JULIETTE. 361 
 
 who had been so much smitten with her friend's 
 charms, glanced back in time to notice a gentleman 
 spring from the wagon, and rapidly approach the 
 house. 
 
 As he came nearer, the color suddenly left her 
 cheeks. She stopped, clasped her hands to her heart, 
 scarcely able to support herself; but Horace had 
 recognized her, and, with a low cry, "My Juliette at 
 last ! " dashed forward, and caught her in his arms. 
 
 " Found at last, dear one ! " he whispered ; but she 
 could not speak ; her heart was too full. It was with 
 difficulty she walked to the house. She seemed to 
 herself to be flying through the air, and had not after 
 wards the most distant recollection of the meeting 
 between Mr. Ashley and her brother, nor of the intro 
 duction to their friends. 
 
 Not until she found herself alone with him in the 
 small parlor, and heard his voice of playful reproach, 
 saying, "Have you no welcome for me, Juliette? " did 
 the color return to her pale cheeks. 
 
 "I'm so afraid I'm not awake," said she, gazing at 
 him with a bewildered air, and putting her hand to her 
 head. "IVe dreamed of you so many times; "she 
 sighed, even now, at the recollection, "and then, after 
 all, it was only a dream." 
 
 "Well," exclaimed Horace, trying to conceal how 
 much her plaintive voice had affected him, " what 
 shall I do to convince you I'm a true, living, loving 
 man, and no vision of the night? " 
 
 " Tell me of my father." 
 
 31
 
 362 JULIETTE. 
 
 And Horace did tell of his suffering and sorrow, 
 his remorse at his treatment of his beloved daughter, 
 and his message to her " to forgive all." 
 
 Juliette wept tears of gratitude, and was only 
 restrained from starting at once to go to him, on hear 
 ing of his alarming sickness, by the assurance that the 
 cars did not leave for Boston until the next day. 
 
 "We have never received a letter from you, at 
 least I have never heard of one," answered Horace, 
 when she told him of her last address to her father 
 from Stamford ; " but we heard you were in Lowell 
 from one of your Stamford friends." 
 
 "Dear James! "she murmured, after he had given 
 her an account of what had passed. "He is a noble 
 man. He has been a dear brother to me." 
 
 All this time Horace had not even intimated the 
 existence of any new tie, such as Mr. Ashley had 
 mentioned, and though his ardent manner was such as 
 to render his marriage highly improbable, yet she 
 longed to hear from his own lips the assurance of his 
 continued attachment to herself. 
 
 "You have changed far less than I feared," he said, 
 gazing tenderly in her face, and laying his hand fondly 
 on her silky curls. " Perhaps this new style of wear 
 ing the hair makes you look younger." He took the 
 small locket from his breast, and began to compare it 
 with the living face before him. 
 
 "O Juliette!" he exclaimed, "how often I have 
 wept over this, when no eye but that of God saw me I 
 For almost two years I have mourned you as dead."
 
 JULIETTE. 363 
 
 He drew her to him, and, with her head resting on 
 his shoulder, they mingled their tears together. 
 
 At length, after he had soothed her with loving 
 words, she lifted her face to his, and with an arch 
 expression said, " Did you never think of me as mar 
 ried?" 
 
 "Married ! " he repeated. "No. If I had supposed 
 you living, I should have judged you by my own 
 heart. You cannot imagine, though, what a continued 
 subject of regret it was to me that I did not persuade 
 you, young as you were, to accompany me abroad. 
 Of course, you have not heard from us ; you do not 
 know that my cousin, Mr. William Everett, married 
 in France, and, with his wife, joined us in our 
 travels." 
 
 He misinterpreted the rich, warm glow which spread 
 over her cheek as she thought she could trace in this 
 marriage the origin of the rumor which had reached 
 her, and said softly, " Would you like to travel, 
 Juliette? I am willing to go anywhere with you, 
 even to the ends of the earth. But you are such a 
 slippery person, running away from home, and sojourn 
 ing in the most unheard-of places, I shall scarcely 
 venture you out of my sight." 
 
 The tea-bell and Mr. Ashley's entrance interrupted 
 them. 
 
 " Will you forgive me now," asked the gentleman, 
 coming forward frankly, " for my alarming rumor, con 
 cerning your brother, the other day ? "
 
 364 JULIETTE. 
 
 "What," inquired Mr. Everett, retaining Juliette's 
 hand ; " have you been telling ,tales of me ? " 
 
 "Don't, oh, please, don't!" urged the young girl 
 with a rosy blush. 
 
 "If it concerns me, I ought, in justice, to have an 
 opportunity to answer for myself," said Horace, with 
 mock gravity. 
 
 " I think so," answered the pastor. " I heard through 
 "Walker, who was in college with us, that you were 
 married, and repeated the rumor to your sister, 
 who " 
 
 " Stop, oh, do stop ! " cried Juliette, in distress. 
 
 Mr. Ashley was more and more mystified, still 
 supposing Horace and Juliette to be children of one 
 mother, when the young man said earnestly, " But 
 you never believed it, Juliette. Even though I 
 thought you dead, the memory of your love was more 
 than all the world to me. You look surprised, Ben 
 son, and call Juliette my sister. Thank God, there 
 is no blood relation between us, for I love her with 
 far more than a brother's loye." 
 
 "Ah," cried Mr. Ashley, with a quiet smile, "all is 
 explained now. But let me wait upon you to the 
 table."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 "A springing joy, 
 
 A pleasure which no language can express, 
 An ecstasy that parents only feel, 
 Plays round my heart, and brightens up my sorrow, 
 Like gleams of sunshine in a lowering sky." 
 
 AFTER tea, Juliette and Agues repaired to their 
 chamber to make preparations for the departure 
 of the former at an early hour the next morning. 
 
 "I am right glad," cried Agnes, "that I am not tore- 
 turn to Lowell. I should be so homesick without you. 
 As you are going away," she said, turning her back, 
 and proceeding vigorously with her packing, " I may 
 as well tell you that Mr. Ashley considers it absolutely 
 necessary to become a benedict as soon as possible ; 
 and so I have consented to be married in two months. 
 It's absurd, I know, for I can't begin to get ready; 
 but, as he considers that no good excuse, I " 
 
 ."That's a good girl ! " responded Juliette, interrupt 
 ing her. " I'm so pleased to have seen him ; and then 
 Horace knows him so well." 
 
 Agues laughed merrily, " I've found out now, why 
 
 poor Mr. Mclntire succeeded no better. It seemed 
 
 very strange to Mr. Ashley that you should be so much 
 
 affected at hearing of the marriage of your brother. 
 
 31* 365
 
 366 JULIETTE. 
 
 He asked me what it could mean. And you've loved 
 him all these years, my poor child? " 
 
 "Ever since I can remember," answered Juliette, 
 with a heightened color, ' ' and when I had given up 
 all hope of ever seeing him again." 
 
 The packing was speedily completed ; but still the 
 young girls lingered in their room, realizing that it 
 was the last evening they should pass together for a 
 long time ; until at length one of the children was sent 
 by Mr. Ashley to summon them below. 
 
 "I have done my best to entertain my old friend," 
 added the gentleman, as they appeared, "but Mr. Ev 
 erett has found something so fascinating in that door, 
 and has watched so eagerly for its opening, that I gave 
 up in despair." 
 
 Horace smiled as he led Juliette to a seat next himself 
 on the sofa, while the young girl, with a roguish ex 
 pression, returned the pleasantry by saying, "Agnes 
 has just told me some news about you, Mr. Ashley." 
 
 "Has she, indeed? You are more highly favored 
 than I am. May I be allowed the benefit of it?" 
 
 "No, indeed!" cried Agnes, hastily approaching 
 the group. "Don't tell him, Juliette," and, turning to 
 Mr. Everett, she said, gayly, " It is but fair to warn 
 you that you have a rival in New York." 
 
 "Ah, who is it?" 
 
 " A gentleman who was so much in earnest that he 
 was not satisfied with one refusal." 
 
 A shadow rested upon the young lawyer's couute-
 
 JULIETTE. 367 
 
 nance. He glanced at Juliette, who looked much dis 
 tressed. 
 
 " O Agnes ! " she remonstrated, " that is not right. 
 That was only your conjecture." 
 
 "But it was true. I saw enough of his devotion 
 myself, and read his love long before" you suspected it." 
 
 "By the way," remarked Mr Ashley, quietly, as he 
 perceived that Horace was far from pleased, "we ex 
 pect to take New York on our wedding tour, and may 
 call upon you there." 
 
 " You must come directly to our house," cried Juli 
 ette, joyfully, while Agnes cast down her eyes in great 
 confusion. 
 
 " We expect to be married in four weeks," he added, 
 gravely, with a sly glance at his lady, " and shall take 
 New York on our return." 
 
 Juliette's silvery laugh rang through the room, as 
 she caught Agnes' start of astonishment at this stroke 
 of policy on the part of her lover. 
 
 "October is a delightful mouth to travel," the cren- 
 
 O O 
 
 tleman went on, in a tone of smothered merriment, 
 without taking the least notice of her decided shake of 
 the head, "and, as we intend to go as far as Niagnra 
 Falls, the sooner we start the better." 
 
 Mr. Barnard and his son coming in at this moment, 
 the conversation became general, though Juliette per 
 ceived pretty vigorous signs of disapproval from Agnes, 
 only returned by roguish glances from the pastor. 
 
 At an early hour the family assembled for evening 
 devotions. Mr. Ashley read a portion of Scripture ;
 
 368 JULIETTE. 
 
 they all united in singing a hymn of praise, and then 
 Mr. Everett, at the request of his friend, offered a 
 prayer for direction and support through all the trials 
 and duties of life. 
 
 Juliette wept as he fervently thanked God for re 
 storing to her friends one who had been so painfully 
 separated from them, and earnestly implored mercy for 
 him who lay weak and languishing upon a sick-bed. 
 
 Mr. Ashley soon followed the family from the room, 
 and our young friend was about to impart to Mr. Ev 
 erett her wish to present Agnes with some token of 
 friendship, when she perceived that he was struggling 
 to conceal some painful emotion. 
 
 " I don't know," he began, seriously, " but there is a 
 terrible trial yet in store for me. It was so unex 
 pected, so overwhelming, to learn that you were still 
 living." He took her hand, but instantly dropped it, 
 and, gazing in her upturned face as if he would read 
 her very soul, said, in a quivering voice, "Tell me, Juli 
 ette, tell me frankly, and may God give me strength 
 to endure it, if, after having this cup of happiness at 
 my lips, it is to be dashed to the ground, tell me, 
 what did you mean by asking whether I had never 
 thought of you as married ? What does your friend 
 mean by her account of my New York rival ? Have I 
 taken too much for granted in supposing you returned 
 my affection, or has some more recent attachment won 
 you from me ? 
 
 "You are agitated, you look down. O Juliette ! 
 speak frankly ; it will be best for both of us. I exoii-
 
 JULIETTE. 369 
 
 erate you from all blauie. You knew I loved you ; but 
 I, I only have been in fault. I have left you two long 
 weary years. I gave too easy credence to " 
 
 "Horace ! O Horace ! why will you speak so bitterly ! 
 You frisrhten me'. I have never loved but once, and 
 
 O * 
 
 that affection began when we used to sit together in 
 our mother's room, and you told me stories from the 
 Bible." 
 
 She placed her hand confidingly in his, and, with a 
 fervent " Thank God ! " he strained her to his heart. 
 
 "I can rest quietly now," he said, "and, as I have 
 scarcely slept for two nights, I shall be much refreshed. 
 But what could I have done if my dreadful suspicion 
 had proved true ? " 
 
 After arranging for their journey, he placed a well- 
 filled purse in her hands ; but she returned it, saying, 
 " I should like to send Agnes a wedding present of a 
 piano ; please keep it for me till then." 
 
 It was not until a very late hour that the young girls, 
 having retired to bed, could compose themselves suffi 
 ciently to sleep. 
 
 Agues wished to talk of her friend the clergyman, 
 and relate their plans. Her fathe'r, being now able to 
 bear the expense, had proposed adding a dining-room 
 and kitchen, with two chambers, to the farm-house, 
 which, with the parlor and Mr. Ashley's study, would 
 make a comfortable tenement for the newly-married 
 pair. She could scarcely express her delight, when 
 Juliette informed her of the intention to add a hand 
 some piano to the furniture of the parlor.
 
 370 JULIETTE. 
 
 "I see," she cried, half laughing, "that Mr. Ashley 
 intends to be obeyed. Did you see how he went right 
 on, settling our wedding-day as if I had not a word to 
 add to the subject ? " 
 
 Juliette then, taking advantage of her knowledge of 
 her friend's independent character, proceeded to make 
 some very wise remarks upon the duty of wives to 
 yield both obedience and reverence to their husbands, 
 assuring her this doctrine was explicitly taught in the 
 Bible, which they had both taken for their guide. 
 
 Agnes quite broke down at this, and began, with 
 tears, to lament her uufitness for the duties before her, 
 and at last ended by declaring that, after all, if she did 
 not love Mr. Ashley with her whole heart she never 
 could and never would promise to obey him ; but now 
 Juliette should see, when they visited her in New York, 
 what a pattern of submission and obedience she had 
 become. 
 
 Then with a good-night kiss they went quietly to 
 sleep, little imagining that the gentleman most inter 
 ested was only separated from them by a thin partition 
 which did not prevent his having the full benefit of 
 their conversation. 
 
 Mr. Ashley, without mentioning his intention to any 
 one, had shown his friend to his study, and gone in to 
 share Willie's narrow bed, which, with a very demuro 
 look, he told Agnes the next morning, he did not re 
 gret, as it enabled him to hear her friend's most able 
 exposition of Paul's directions to wives. 
 
 The young girl bit her lips with vexation ; but, finally,
 
 JULIETTE. 371 
 
 after a few low-spoken words from the young clergy 
 man, endeavored to turn off the whole subject as a 
 joke. 
 
 The parting between the friends was much softened 
 by the anticipation of soon meeting again ; and, in 
 truth, Juliette now began to be so impatient to com 
 mence her journey, and see her father, that she could 
 scarcely be pained by anything. 
 
 They reached Boston in season to take the evening 
 express train for New York, where they arrived at an 
 early hour the following morning. 
 
 Seeing that their own carriage was nowhere in sight, 
 Horace called a hack-driver to take them to Madison 
 Square, and, in a few minutes, with a wildly beating 
 heart and tear-dimmed eyes, Juliette ascended the 
 steps to her fondly remembered home. 
 
 Eufus, the porter, after a few moments' delay, 
 opened the door and gave a scream of joy, when he 
 recognized her ; but she could only whisper, 
 
 " How is my father ? " 
 
 "Very sick, miss, I'm sorry to say; but your 
 coming home will cure him, and set everything right." 
 
 Horace, seeing with how much difficulty she con 
 trolled herself, led her hastily to the parlor, and rang 
 the bell for a servant to bring a glass of wine. 
 
 It was still very early, but the glad news speedily 
 flew through the house that their young mistress had 
 returned ; and Eliza, who was back in her old place, 
 hastily dressed, in order to meet and welcome her. 
 A burst of tears, however, prevented a word being
 
 372 JULIETTE. 
 
 spoken until Juliette asked Horace to inform her 
 father at once that she longed to see him. 
 
 "I am only waiting for a tinge of color in your 
 cheeks and lips," he said gently. "Now I'll go, while 
 you take off your bonnet and prepare to come to 
 him." 
 
 " Will you go to your own room, miss ? " asked Eliza, 
 wiping her eyes. " It is in readiness for you." 
 
 An almost overwhelming tide of emotion swept 
 over the poor girl as she stood at the entrance to the 
 suite of elegant apartments from which she had so long 
 been banished. She quickly covered her face as she 
 murmured, 
 
 " Oh, how little I ever expected to be here again ! 
 My dear, dear home ! " 
 
 Eliza eagerly drew forward a large chair, and began 
 to talk about her master. 
 
 To Juliette each moment seemed like an age as she 
 sat impatiently listening to every step. " Is he 
 changed ? How will he receive me ? " she asked herself. 
 At length she could control her desire no longer ; 
 and, stealing gently through the hall, listened through 
 the closed door for a sound of his well-remembered 
 voice. 
 
 Presently it was opened from within, and Horace, 
 smiling as he saw her, led her forward into the 
 chamber. 
 
 There were several persons in the apartment, but 
 the happy daughter saw only a pair of keen, expectant 
 eyes gazing wistfully toward the entrance, and, with
 
 JULIETTE. 373 
 
 one bound, was by his side. An impressive silence 
 reigned in the room, as, sinking on her knees, she 
 crie'd out, 
 
 " My father ! O my father ! " 
 
 She caught his extended hand and covered it with 
 kisses, while the glad tears rained from her eyes. 
 
 The doctor was just about to interfere, as he saw 
 what a terrible struggle was going on in the breast of 
 his patient, when the convulsed features relaxed. 
 
 "Juliette," gasped the broken voice, " will you for 
 give all my cruel wrong? Can you forgive all this, 
 my child ? " 
 
 " Dear, dear father, all is forgiven ; all is forgotten 
 in this happy meeting ; " and, with a gush of joyful 
 tears, she imprinted kiss after kiss on his cheeks, brow, 
 and lips. 
 
 " God is merciful ! " murmured the sick man, sink 
 ing back wholly overcome. 
 
 Dr. M , wiping his eyes, came quickly to the bed, 
 
 and in a whisper suggested to Juliette that she had 
 better leave the chamber until he were more com 
 posed ; but Mr. Fearing, overhearing him, feebly 
 shook his head, and caught his daughter's hand press 
 ing it to his bosom. 
 
 " I will be calm, doctor ; I will do anything you 
 wish, only let me stay. I can soothe him to sleep. 
 I used often to do it ; " and she laid her hand caress 
 ingly on his burning temples. 
 
 The physician shook his head, but made no further 
 objection. He administered a powder, after asking 
 
 32
 
 374 JULIETTE. 
 
 some one behind him how long since he had taken the 
 last. 
 
 Juliette started and turned quickly around with 
 a smile, as James's voice answered, "Half an hour, 
 sir." 
 
 Henry then came across the room and kissed his 
 sister with much affection ; after which she bowed 
 a recognition of the old servants who were present. 
 
 After a few moments the medicine began to take 
 effect, and the patient, still grasping the hand of his 
 daughter, sank into a doze. 
 
 Horace, who was at her side, softly suggested that 
 now was her time to go below and take some break 
 fast ; but she would not consent to leave the room, 
 lest her father should awake and miss her. 
 
 She begged him to go, however, with James and 
 Henry, promising to drink a cup of chocolate, if 
 he would send it to her there. 
 
 She motioned to James to come nearer, and, in a low 
 tone, said, 
 
 " Thank you, my kind brother, for your tender care 
 of my father." 
 
 How much reason she had to thank him she was 
 not aware until afterwards. 
 
 When alone with her charge she had time to gaze at 
 his emaciated countenance. Whether from sickness or 
 sorrow, or both, he looked ten years older than when 
 she had last seen him. His hair, which was then black 
 as a raven's wing, was now thickly threaded with 
 silver ; while his cheeks were furrowed, and his brow
 
 JULIETTE. 375 
 
 lined with care. Still, there was a softened, subdued 
 expression she had never seen there before. She 
 bowed her head in gratitude as she remembered his 
 last words to Horace, 
 
 "Tell her I'm willing now ! " 
 
 " Who can tell," she said to herself, as she gazed, 
 " whether he may not have become a participant in the 
 religion of Jesus? Perhaps God has answered my 
 poor prayers for his conversion." 
 ' She started from her reverie as he smiled in his 
 sleep and murmured, " Juliette." 
 
 " Yes, dear father," she whispered, "your Juliette is 
 here, your happy Juliette ! feeling that, if God has 
 heard her prayers in your behalf, her cup of blessings 
 is full to overflowing." 
 
 She pressed her lips softly on his hand, which she 
 still held ; but even this did not awaken him. 
 
 Eliza gently opened the door, bringing a silver tray 
 with chocolate, fresh eggs, and toast, from the break 
 fast table. 
 
 These she placed on a small tea-poy by the bed, 
 saying, in a low tone, 
 
 " Mr. Horace broke the eggs and seasoned them for 
 you, and he hoped you'd eat all he has sent." 
 
 She stood near, watching her young lady as she 
 smilingly proceeded to the discussion of her tempting 
 repast. Probably the night-ride had given her an 
 appetite ; or her heart was more at rest than usual, 
 or both these causes combined ; for her maid had 
 never known her to eat with so keen a relish ; and she
 
 376 JULIETTE. 
 
 had not yet finished when the young men returned 
 to the chamber. 
 
 Beckoning her from the bed, Horace informed her 
 that Mr. Smith proposed to leave New York, and he 
 knew she would wish to speak with him before he did 
 so. 
 
 " Indeed we can't spare you," she said, in a subdued 
 tone. " Is the farm work so pressing that you cannot 
 give one day to your old friend ? " 
 
 "I have already written twice to postpone my 
 return," said the young man ; " and now that he and 
 Mr. Everett are here, I think he will not need 
 me." 
 
 " But I have had no time to inquire for your father 
 and mother, and dear Susan and Maria. How are 
 they all ? I long so much to see them. " 
 
 "They are well. I have promised your father that 
 Susan shall come, if you wish it, and make you a long 
 visit. I am afraid there is not much left to tell him 
 
 ^ 
 
 about your residence in Stamford. It was the only 
 way 1 could soothe him when hour after hour passed, 
 and you did not return." 
 
 " Does he know of my being in Lowell ? " she in 
 quired. 
 
 "Yes ; I could not deceive him. He saw there was 
 something I kept back, and grew so much excited that 
 I thought it best to tell him. He knows all about 
 your joining Mr. Allen's church." 
 
 "And what did he say?" she inquired, with an 
 eager glance toward the bed.
 
 JULIETTE. 377 
 
 "He nodded, and said, ' Yes, I expected it.' He did 
 not speak again for some time. I think he was praying.'' 
 
 Juliette darted a quick, inquiring look at the young 
 man. 
 
 "Yes, Juliette, I think your father is a Christian. 
 I know ho prays ; and that he regards his cruel per 
 secution of you, on account of your religion, as the 
 most dreadful sin of his life. 
 
 "He knows, too, of your terrible illness. He wept 
 like a child when I told him of your dream that you 
 had a letter from him ; and how afraid we were to tell , 
 you there was none. Yes," added James, speaking 
 quickly, and growing very red in the face, "I con 
 fessed all, even that I, a poor farmer, dependent upon 
 my daily labor, had dared to love his child ; and he 
 did not despise me." 
 
 With an anxious glance at Horace, Juliette re 
 plied, 
 
 " I know, dear James, you did not begin to tell the 
 generous, brotherly care you exercised over me ; nor 
 the thousand acts of tender affection from all your 
 dear family." 
 
 A slight movement from the bed caused the watchful 
 daughter to spring to his side just as the sick man 
 opened his eyes. 
 
 He gazed wildly about for a moment ; but a warm 
 smile played about his mouth as he saw his daughter 
 bending over him. 
 
 "I feel better and stronger," said he, in a more 
 cheerful voice than- they had heard from him for 
 
 32*
 
 378 JULIETTE. 
 
 X 
 
 along time. "The sight of you, Juliette, will do me 
 more good than all Dr. M 's prescriptions." 
 
 James drew nearer to bid Mr. Fearing "good-by ; " 
 but the sick man urged him to remain one day longer. 
 "You will not regret it," said he, impressively. 
 
 "If I can really be of service, I am quite willing 
 and glad to remain," replied James, cordially. 
 
 The reason for .this urgency was not apparent until 
 the evening, when Mr. Fearing, being really more like 
 himself than since their return from abroad, requested 
 Horace to invite Mr. Smith and Henry to his room. 
 
 Holding his daughter's hand, he turned his eye 
 slowly from one to another of the group before him, 
 and then, in a quivering voice, began, 
 
 "I wish, before you all, to make acknowledgment 
 of my harsh persecution of my daughter on account 
 of her religion, even to driving her from her home ; 
 and I wish to exonerate her here from all suspicion of 
 blame. God has dealt mercifully with me in restoring 
 her to my arms before I die ; and also in allowing me 
 to hope that the blood of his Son can wash away guiVt 
 even as great as mine. Yes, Mr. Smith," he added 
 fervently, as he extended his hand to the young man, 
 " I do believe in him. I do cast myself at the foot of 
 his cross ; and I do and will forever plead his promise 
 of pardon to such as, repenting of their sins, and turn 
 ing from them with self-abhorrence and loathing, come 
 to him for mercy." 
 
 James covered his face and shook with agitation, 
 while Juliette sobbed aloud, as after a few moments'
 
 JULIETTE. 379 
 
 pause for strength, he went on. "I shall never forget 
 your faithfulness, though at the time it was like a dag 
 ger piercing to my very heart. To my daughter's 
 consistent, self-denying devotion to her Saviour I owe 
 the doubts and fears which filled my soul respecting 
 my own acceptance, and the determination to live a 
 new life. Your prayers and labors, under God, have 
 been the means of opening my eyes to his astonishing 
 grace, so that I can see in his glorious Son a being 
 who acts as mediator between me and my offended 
 Judge." 
 
 The hand which held his daughter's slightly relaxed 
 its grasp, and Juliette saw a pallor settling around his 
 mouth. Alarmed beyond measure, she motioned to 
 Horace to observe the change, when James calmly 
 took from the table some drops, and gave them to 
 him. 
 
 In the midst of her terror, Juliette's heart beat more 
 warmly as she noticed that Henry .seemed much af 
 fected at his father's words. All stood silently watch 
 ing the sufferer, who lay with his eyes closed, until at 
 length he spoke, feebly. " I am relieved. Mr. Smith, 
 will you pray with me ? " 
 
 Even after James had taken the position of prayer, 
 Mr. Fearing touched his hand and added , " Pray that 
 J may not deceive myself, but may be ready to appear 
 before Him when my summons comes." 
 
 This remark, showing that he thought himself near 
 his end, so affected his daughter, that she was obliged 
 to put a great constraint upon her feelings to- keep from
 
 380 JULIETTE. 
 
 weeping aloud ; but, after a moment, the fervor of the 
 petitions soothed her, and her heart echoed the words 
 as James implored grace and strength for the duties of 
 life, triumph in death, and immortal blessedness for the 
 life to come.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 " When love's well-timed, 'tis not a fault to love ; 
 The strong, the weak, the virtuous, and the wise 
 Sink in the soft captivity together." 
 
 ONE week later the same party were assembled in 
 Mr. Fearing's room, except that, instead of 
 James Smith, Susan occupied a seat near the bed. 
 
 Mr. Fearing was now so far recovered as to be able 
 to sit up several hours at a time ; but, except for neces 
 sary exercise in the open air, he could not bear his daugh 
 ter out of his sight. She read to him, combed his hair, 
 and chatted by the hour together. Indeed, at no time 
 in her life had she ever been so truly happy. In the 
 confidence and affection now subsisting between her 
 and her father ; in the ardent love of Horace ; in the 
 tender sympathy of her reformed brother ; in the en 
 dearing friendship of the lively Susan, day after day 
 passed, and she often asked herself, " What could I 
 wish for more ? " 
 
 Mr. Fearing had conceived a great fondness for the 
 warm-hearted girl who had been such a firm friend to 
 his daughter ; and this feeling was shared by Henry ; 
 so much so, that hour after hour he passed in his fa 
 ther's room, listening to her ever-ready sallies of wit. 
 
 381
 
 382 JULIETTE. 
 
 In contrast to the silly belles, there was something so 
 fresh, so piquant, so charming in this child of nature, 
 that he could not tear himself from her society. Then 
 she talked so unreservedly to him, told him so frankly 
 what she deemed his faults, recommended so earnestly 
 that he would come out to Stamford and put himself 
 under James's tuition, with the hope, that in time, he 
 might exchange his life of listless indolence for that of 
 an energetic farmer, that, although he received her 
 suggestions with bursts of laughter, yet he remembered 
 and determined to profit by them. 
 
 Mr. Fearing one day glanced at his daughter with 
 a quiet smile, as Henry and Susan, too intent upon 
 their own conversation to notice that others were lis 
 tening to them, were eagerly discussing the compara 
 tive advantages of country and of city life. 
 
 "Oh !" exclaimed the impulsive girl ; "I should die 
 to be shut up from one year's end to the other between 
 stone walls, where I never could see the green fields, 
 and the waving, golden grain. There is nothing in 
 this city you boast so much of, that can compare with 
 father's ten-acre lot, when the barley is just beginning 
 to shoot forth its bearded head. I don't believe you 
 ever saw anything so beautiful." 
 
 " But think of whole streets of magnificent houses," 
 returned Henry. "Think of continuous blocks of 
 stores, such as Stewart's, their windows filled with rich 
 goods. You have nothing like these in Stamford, or 
 in the country anywhere." 
 
 "Houses and stores do not constitute my happiness,"
 
 JULIETTE. 383 
 
 she excnliraed, with a disdainful toss of her head. 
 " Nature is better than art, any time. I know I can't 
 reason well," she added, as he smiled; "but nothing 
 can convince me that the people who have lived in the 
 country are not better, more natural, and happier than 
 those who live in the city. Now, for instance, the city 
 gentlemen think of nothing but making money, from 
 one year's end to the other ; or, if they have enough, 
 as you have, they either grow dissipated and vicious 
 for want of some active employment, or, if fortunately, 
 principle restrains them from such excesses, their lives 
 are passed in watching the growth of their mus 
 taches " (she had been laughing at him for his habit of 
 curling his with his fingers), "giving orders for new 
 suits of clothes, driving fast horses, lolling in saloons, 
 or in similar expedients. for killing time." 
 
 " Or in discussing questions of importance with 
 young ladies from the country," added Henry, de 
 murely. " But let us hear how a young man who had 
 some money at his command would do in the country." 
 
 Susan was wide-awake now, and, with her head very 
 erect, began : " Oh, he would first select some beauti 
 ful spot where there were trees, and a lake, and slop 
 ing green lawns, and build a fine house ; not a high, 
 stone building like the city houses, but a lovely cot 
 tage, with bay-windows, and porticoes, and verandas, 
 and all sorts of cosey places ; and then plant woodbine 
 and honeysuckle to run over them. It would be splen 
 did ; and then he would marry a beautiful girl like 
 Juliette."
 
 384 JULIETTE. 
 
 * "A city belle, after all." 
 
 "No, she was brought up in the country; but you 
 put me out. I was just having him bring home his 
 wife, and then he really begins to live ; for now every 
 body respects him. He carries on his place, and this 
 gives employment to a great many poor people who 
 look up to him, and whom, of course, he can benefit if 
 he chooses. Then his wife is so happy ! She goes 
 singing about the house, or walking over the pleasant 
 grounds, planning improvements with her husband, or 
 visiting the cottages of their laborers, and encouraging 
 them to do their best. 
 
 "Then, as years go by, this man is beloved and re 
 spected in the whole town. He is an example to his 
 neighbors of moral integrity, sanctified by religious 
 principle. When he passes, the children point to him 
 
 and say, 'There goes our good Mr. . He's a friend 
 
 to the poor, and Heaven's blessings will rest upon him.' 
 Sometimes, to be sure, he will have trials. Every 
 body does ; but when they come, God will give him 
 strength to bear them. At any rate," she added, draw 
 ing her description to a sudden close as she met his 
 earnest eye, " his time will be so usefully and happily 
 employed that he will never suffer from ennui, so that 
 he will yawn, and exclaim a dozen times in an hour, 
 'What shall I do with myself till dinner? How ter 
 ribly tedious these long days are ! f : 
 
 Henry laughed heartily. "You'd make a capital 
 preacher, Susan ; you never end without a personal 
 application ; but you've convinced me. I'll never say
 
 JULIETTE. 385 
 
 a word about the pleasures of city life again ; and if J 
 only knew some fair damsel who would consent to plan 
 improvements about my grounds, I should be tempted 
 to begin the life of a country gentleman at once." 
 
 "There are a plenty of them," she replied, frankly ; 
 " but whether they would dare venture their happiness 
 with so thoroughly a city gentleman is a question." 
 And, with an arch glance into his grave face, she sud 
 denly left the room. 
 
 It was true, as James had said, that Mr. Fearing 
 had delighted to hear of the manner in which his 
 daughter had passed her time in Stamford ; how 
 quickly she won both the love and respect of all who 
 knew her ; nor was Juliette soon tired of relating to 
 him instances of the watchful care of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Smith for her comfort, the hearty generosity of James, 
 and the sisterly affection of the young girls. 
 
 They consulted earnestly together as to some method 
 of returning these obligations, especially to the young 
 farmer whose faithfulness had been so much blessed to 
 the soul of the sick man. 
 
 Mr. Fearing, a thorough business man, proposed to 
 give him a place in his own store, with capital enough 
 to ensure his success ; but Juliette was positive he 
 would prefer a farm in the country, with money enough 
 to stock it. 
 
 To anticipate a few months, this was happily accom 
 plished, and the young girl had the pleasure of behold 
 ing her friends, James and Josey, comfortably settled 
 in their own pretty cottage, surrounded by well-tilled 
 33
 
 386 JULIETTE. 
 
 fields connected with their farm, about three miles from 
 his father's residence. 
 
 As Mr. Fearing's health became established, Horace 
 claimed Juliette's promise to name an early day for 
 their wedding. Their father's fflad consent had been 
 
 O o 
 
 given soon after her return to her home ; and as he 
 insisted that they should still constitute one family, 
 there seemed no reason for delay. 
 
 In the intimacy of their new relation, the young 
 lawyer often acknowledged the truth of the trite 
 adage,. 
 
 " Sweet are the uses of adversity." 
 
 The trials and persecutions through which she had 
 passed had given to our heroine far more strength 
 and firmness of character. Indeed, in speaking of the 
 past, she said with tears, "I shudder when I think how 
 near I was to the fearful vortex of worldliness which 
 has engulfed so many, even professing Christians." 
 In her case, certainly, Mr. Everett could realize the 
 truth of the inspired words, " No chastening for the 
 present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous ; never 
 theless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruits 
 of righteousness unto them which are exercised 
 thereby." 
 
 In accordance with the will of their mother, Henry 
 and Juliette shared alike the inheritance they received 
 from her, and of which they came into possession on 
 reaching their majority. The portion of our heroine, 
 which amounted to a handsome fortune, remained un 
 touched. Unfortunately, her brother acquired the
 
 JULIETTE. 387 
 
 right to spend his before his father's dangerous illness 
 and his sister's departure from home led him to reflect 
 upon his mad career, and determine to begin a refor 
 mation. Before this time his father had absolutely 
 refused to squander any more money in paying debts 
 of honor, as Henry falsely called the demands of the 
 vilest gambler^ of the city ; so that, when he reached 
 his twenty-first year, one-third of his entire fortune 
 was sacrificed to blacklegs. 
 
 Before his daughter's marriage, it was Mr. Fearing's 
 determination to make his will, bequeathing to his son, 
 at his decease, the elegant mansion in which they then 
 resided, and such a proportion of his interest in their 
 firm as would make him independent for life. It had 
 for many years been a subject of keen regret that the 
 young man did not devote himself, as he had done, to 
 mercantile pursuits, which, from the first, Henry had 
 declared distasteful to him. 
 
 Now the animated conversations of Susan regarding 
 the pleasures of country life recalled his own long- 
 cherished plan of passing his last days remote from 
 the turmoil and confusion of the busy world in which 
 he dwelt. 
 
 His father, enfeebled more by sorrow than by age, 
 had long wished to give up the care attendant upon so 
 large an estate, and would, he was sure, be delighted 
 to have his only grandson settled upon it. 
 
 Several long and earnest conversations took place 
 between the father and sou, Henry being roused to a 
 new energy by the thought of commencing life afresh
 
 388 JULIETTE. 
 
 in the character of a country gentleman. Whatever 
 visions of a bright-eyed, laughing, and withal somewhat 
 saucy, lass had to do with his determination, he did 
 not say ; but declared and reiterated his resolve to 
 live in the country. 
 
 At length he went out to consult his grandfather 
 and Dr. Morrison, and returned two days later with 
 the joyful announcement that he was no longer a loafer 
 about town, as Susan had laughingly called him, but 
 the true and veritable owner of a country-seat, upon 
 which he was determined to live henceforth and 
 forever. 
 
 He was rather vexed that this news did not in the 
 least alter the young lady's manner toward him, except 
 to make her laugh the more at the idea of the New 
 York exquisite, with his embossed slippers, his gor 
 geous dressing-gown, and his perfumed cigar, loitering 
 about the farm, hindering the workmen with his un 
 meaning questions ; or volunteering orders one day, 
 to be countermanded the next. 
 
 "I think you are too bad, Susan," urged Juliette, 
 one day, as in more lively, caustic terms than usual, 
 she had been setting his sins in order before him, until 
 the young man left the room in great displeasure. 
 "Henry is really trying to reform, and I think a little 
 encouragement would do him good." 
 
 For a moment the young girl was silent, and 
 remained with her eyes fixed intently on her work ; 
 but presently said, frankly, "If you think I have 
 really said more than I ought, I will tell him so."
 
 JULIETTE. 389 
 
 Juliette smiled her approval, and Susan left the 
 room in search of the gentleman, whom she found at 
 last, lying at full length upon the' sofa, his face con 
 cealed by the rich cushion. 
 
 He sprang up when he recognized her step, but only 
 to meet an arch glance at the listless attitude in which 
 she had discovered him. 
 
 "Mr. Fearing," she began, in a voice which she 
 vainly tried to render serious, "you have lived such a 
 life of self-indulgence, and been so excessively flat 
 tered for traits which you did or did not possess, that 
 I fear you have lost the power of recognizing who are 
 your true friends, and who seek your best good. You, 
 who " have only to exhibit yourself and your beauti 
 fully curled mustaches in society, in order to be 
 caressed and cajoled by manoeuvring mammas, and 
 lisping, listless daughters, surely cannot take offence 
 at any joking remark a poor, ignorant country girl 
 may make. Nevertheless, I may, and probably have 
 been disrespectful and too familiar toward one so 
 much my superior in rank, wealth, and wisdom ; and, 
 if so, justice to myself requires me to ask you to 
 excuse it." 
 
 Then, with a low courtesy of mock humility, before 
 he could catch his breath to reply, she had resumed 
 her seat and her work near Juliette, unmindful of his 
 earnest call, " Susan ! Stop, Sustin !" 
 
 At the dinner-table, both Horace and Juliette found 
 it almost impossible to conceal their merriment at the 
 suddenly changed manners of tire once lively girl. 
 
 33*
 
 390 JULIETTE. 
 
 "With her eyes fixed immovably upon her plate, she 
 did not speak except when addressed ; and then, when 
 in answer to a question from Henry, in a tone of hu 
 mility and deference so unlike herself, that the young 
 man was wholly disconcerted, while Mr. Fearing 
 glanced inquiringly from one to another, entirely 
 unable to account for the silence of his favorite guest. 
 
 "Juliette," cried the young girl, after they had 
 returned to the parlor, suddenly throwing off her 
 forced reserve, "New York air doesn't agree with me. 
 I'm going home to morrow." 
 
 "Then I shall accompany you," exclaimed Henry. 
 "I have important business in Stamford." 
 
 He returned, however, thoroughly disheartened, 
 ready to renounce his plan of living in the country, 
 and to fall back into his old pursuits ; for Susan had 
 virtually declined to be his companion in his new 
 home. From some source she had learned of his 
 former dissipation; and, though he frankly confessed 
 the vicious courses which he now deeply lamented, 
 she could not venture to give the happiness of her 
 whole life to the keeping of a man who, as yet, had 
 scarcely commenced the work of reform. 
 
 In a letter, however, which she wrote to Juliette, 
 she accepted the invitation to act as bridesmaid at the 
 rapidly approaching nuptials, and confessed, in her 
 usual frank manner, that if Henry persevered in rous 
 ing himself, and in proving that he was a man of energy 
 and worth, she thould love him with all her heart. 
 
 This epistle, which the young lady lost no time in
 
 JULIETTE. 391 
 
 showing to her brother, so revived his drooping spirits, 
 that he provided himself with treatises on the man 
 agement of lauds, orchards, and stocks, and went to 
 work in earnest to fit himself for the onerous duties 
 he was about to assume.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 " A. guardian angel o'er his life presiding, 
 Doubling his pleasure, and his cares dividing." 
 
 ONE of the first calls made by our heroine after her 
 return to New York was upon her former pastor, 
 Dr. A . To her great delight, her father accompa 
 nied her, and made known to the good man the entire 
 change which had taken place in his views and feel 
 ings on the subject of religion. After a protracted 
 interview, he requested to be considered as a candi 
 date for admission to the church, and it was agreed 
 that Juliette should remove her cmirch relation from 
 Stamford on the same Sabbath. 
 
 During the conversation between her father and Dr. 
 
 A , the young girl was exceedingly affected by the 
 
 humility and deep sense of sin expressed by the for 
 mer, and the ardor with which he looked forward to 
 serving Christ. As soon as they were seated in the 
 carriage, she clasped his hand in hers, as she exclaimed, 
 ft How safe it is to trust ourselves and those dear to us 
 in the hands of a gracious God ! I prayed month after 
 month, and year after year, until I began almost to 
 despond ; but in his own good time he has granted me 
 the desire of my heart." 
 
 892
 
 JULIETTE. 393 
 
 A most interesting conversation followed, in which 
 Mr. Fearing related many incidents in the life of his 
 beloved Juliette, the mother of Horace, events 
 which, now that he loved prayer and the services of 
 religion, had caused him bitter tears, lest, in denying 
 her the consolations of Christian friendship, he had 
 caused her many hours of sorrow. 
 
 From Mrs. Ward Folsom, lately returned from 
 Scotland, where she had relatives, Juliette also 
 received a most cordial welcome. From this lady she 
 learned with deep emotion, for the first time, of the 
 inconsolable grief of her father on finding she had 
 abandoned her home ; and the extensive search that 
 had been made for her all along the route of the 
 Harlem cars. 
 
 Almost as soon as she reached New York, Juliette 
 had written to her dear teacher, Mrs. Osboru, and was 
 now daily expecting a visit from her, to continue until 
 after her marriage, the preparations for which were 
 going rapidly forward. 
 
 It was neither her desire nor that of Mr. Everett to 
 have a public wedding, even if Mr. Fearing's health 
 would have allowed him to be present in scenes of ex 
 citement. Since their return from abroad they had 
 not re-entered society ; nor did she ever wish to be in 
 volved in such an extensive circle as during her first 
 winter in the city ; a more select company of friends 
 being far more congenial to her feelings. 
 
 The determination of Henry to establish himself 
 permanently at H , as soon as the spring opened,
 
 394 JULIETTE. 
 
 had caused an entire change in the disposition of Mr. 
 Fearing's estate. As Mr. Everett's business would 
 detain him in town during the greater part of the year, 
 the house in Madison Square was, at his decease, to be 
 come the property of his daughter, together with a 
 considerable fortune in bank stocks. To his son he 
 bequeathed an equal portion, in addition to the estate 
 made over to him by his grandfather. The remainder 
 of his fortune was distributed among different benevo 
 lent societies and objects of charity in the city. 
 
 With the zeal and energy which had always charac 
 terized him, Mr. Fearing gave himself no rest until 
 his affairs were definitely arranged. 
 
 "Now," said he, when Horace, having spent some 
 hours with him in looking over and signing papers, 
 announced the business completed, "in case of my 
 sudden decease, my executors will find no difficulty in 
 settling my estate." 
 
 It had been the intention of the young people to 
 start immediately after their marriage for New Orleans, 
 spending a few days in each of the principal cities on 
 the route ; but at the last this journey was indefinitely 
 postponed on account of the repugnance Mr. Fearing 
 expressed 1 at his daughter's continued absence from 
 home. 
 
 This was the more singular as never since his 
 mother's death, nearly two years earlier, had he ap 
 peared in such firm health as at present. But Juliette 
 delighted to yield her own wishes to his, and was 
 more than repaid for any self-denial it might have cost
 
 JULIETTE. 395 
 
 her by the delight he manifested when told she would 
 not leave him. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning in the early part of No 
 vember when the nuptials were to be celebrated. The 
 bridal dress consisted of a robe of white satin, covered 
 with the most exquisitely rich lace, and decorated with 
 orange blossoms and lilies of the valley. The chaplet 
 was formed of similar flowers with pendants of jessa 
 mine. 
 
 Attached to the back of the head was a veil of 
 costly Brussels lace, which had been worn by her step 
 mother, and which was of such a length that it swept 
 the floor. 
 
 Susan wore a rich white silk, a present from Mr. 
 Fearing, covered with gossamer foce and tastefully 
 ornamented with flowers. 
 
 Our heroine, in company with her father and grand 
 father, Henry and Susan, rode to Dr. A 's church; 
 
 Horace, with Dr. and Mrs. Morrison and Mrs. Osboru 
 having preceded them in another carriage. 
 
 The moment the steps were let down a crowd 
 pressed near to catch a glimpse of the beautiful bride ; 
 and, though it was intended that the wedding should be 
 private, yet on their entrance they found every part 
 of the house filled with eager spectators. 
 
 Susan taking Henry's arm preceded the bridal pair 
 through the crowded aisle. A mist before Juliette's 
 eyes prevented her noticing or being embarrassed by 
 the admiration her beauty called forth. She saw 
 nothing but the venerable pastor, heard nothing but
 
 396 JULIETTE. 
 
 the solemn words which united her to her chosen 
 friend until they were separated by death; and then, 
 clinging to her husband's arm for support from the 
 emotions which almost overwhelmed her, was led once 
 more through the excited crowd of spectators, and 
 lifted faint and trembling into the carriage. 
 
 Mr. Fearing found it difficult to retain his com 
 posure as Horace leaned forward, and, imprinting a kiss 
 upon her pale cheek, whispered, " My own dear one, 
 
 NOW AND FOREVER ! " 
 
 It was considered a relief by all when Susan ex 
 claimed, in an animated tone, " Oh, dear, how glad I 
 am it's over ! I shook with fear just as if I myself was 
 being married. I never noticed before what solemn 
 words one has to say." 
 
 On their return to the house the bridal party had 
 scarcely time to collect their thoughts before carriage 
 after carriage of invited guests drove to the door. 
 
 From eleven until one, ladies with their respective 
 gentlemen closely followed one another into the large 
 parlors, were led up and introduced to the bride and 
 groom, to whom they offered their salutations and 
 congratulations. 
 
 The wedding repast was laid out in the spacious 
 dining-hall in the rear, elegantly decorated with long 
 garlands of flowers twined into the ornamental trellis- 
 work of the apartment, while the doors and windows 
 were hung with wreaths of orange blossoms and other 
 flowers emblematic of the happy occasion. These dec-
 
 JULIETTE. 397 
 
 creations, combined with the subdued roseate hue from 
 the damask curtains, produced a most beautiful effect. 
 
 In the centre of the table an immense salver of solid 
 silver supported the loaf of wedding cake which was a 
 perfect marvel of sugar architecture. The rest of the 
 board was covered with rich cakes, jellies, sugared 
 fruit in every variety, interspersed with massive silver 
 tankards, elegantly chased and chastely flowered vases, 
 Sevres, Dresden, and Worcester china. 
 
 At two the newly married pair took the cars for 
 Boston, from which place they proposed to go to 
 Lowell, and pass one day in bidding adieu, to friends 
 from whom she had so suddenly taken her departure. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer was quite surprised when her young 
 servant announced that Miss Edwards, with a gentle 
 man, had called upon her. 
 
 She went cordially forw r ard to meet her former 
 boarder, who, with a blush, introduced her companion 
 as, " My husband, Mr. Everett." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried the lady, gazing at the gentleman's 
 fine, open countenance with new interest. 
 
 The young bride then proceeded in her own artless, 
 unaffected manner to inquire for Miss Palmer, and her 
 other fellow-boarders. 
 
 " We missed you and Agnes, sadly," said the lady, 
 after answering her questions. "It scarcely seemed 
 like home to us, without your lively conversation and 
 music." 
 
 "Does Annie play much now?" asked Mrs. Everett. 
 " I have taken the liberty to bring her a few pieces of 
 34
 
 398 JULIETTE. 
 
 new music. If Hannah will go out to the carriage, the 
 driver will give her the bundle containing them, and 
 also a small present for herself. 
 
 "You were always ready to oblige me, Hannah," she 
 added, meeting the girl at the door, " and here is a new 
 dress I bought in New York, on purpose to please 
 you." 
 
 "Indeed, miss !" exclaimed Hannah, ignorant of the 
 new title of the young lady, " you are very kind ; but 
 I declare to my heart, miss, I'd rather have yourself 
 back again than six new dresses ; and that's true for 
 you, miss." 
 
 Her husband and Mrs. Palmer overheard the brief 
 conversation. 
 
 "If you'll excuse the liberty, sir, in saying so," re 
 marked the lady, " I think you have been very fortu 
 nate in your choice of a wife. Mrs. Everett was in 
 my family nearly a year, and rendered herself beloved 
 by all the members. Hannah speaks the feelings of 
 all of us when she expresses her regret. She had a 
 hearty cry when we received the word from Agnes that 
 neither of them were to return." 
 
 Juliette found them smiling when she entered. She 
 informed the lady of Agues' marriage, which had prob 
 ably taken place the last of October. 
 
 She rose to go, and Mr. Everett took the opportu 
 nity to thank the lady for her kindness to his wife, ex 
 pressing his cordial assent to her views as to the lovely 
 character of the lady. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the widow, " how sorry Annie
 
 JULIETTE. 399 
 
 will be to have missed your call ! This music will be 
 a great source of pleasure to her. I cannot bear the 
 thought that I shall never hear you play again." 
 
 Without a word, the bride pulled off her gloves, and, 
 seating herself at the instrument, played and sung a 
 piece she remembered to have been a favorite with her 
 hostess, and then, with kind messages to the absent 
 ones, hastened to the carriage. 
 
 "I am afraid," she said, as they drove away, "that 
 I have detained you too long ; but I knew it would 
 please her to hear me play and sing once more. She 
 was very kind when I was with her." 
 
 What the young husband thought as he gazed in her 
 glowing, expressive face I cannot tell; but he said, 
 softly, "You did exactly right, Juliette, as you always 
 do. I am constantly taking lessons of you." 
 
 They had ordered the driver to take them next to 
 Mr. B 's, and, on their way, they passed the Cor 
 poration boarding-house where poor Juliette spent her 
 first days in Lowell. She was looking from the win 
 dow, and sighed at the recollection. 
 
 Horace quickly demanded an explanation. 
 
 " I am almost afraid to tell you what I suffered in 
 that house," she answered, seriously. "Even now I 
 cannot recall those long days and weary nights with 
 out a shudder." In a few words, she gave him a 
 sketch of the character of the landlady and her fellow- 
 boarders. 
 
 "Do you wonder," she asked, "that I love Agnes, 
 who helped me to remove so quickly? I think
 
 400 JULIETTE. 
 
 I should have died if I had remained there much 
 longer." 
 
 "Dear wife," murmured Mr. Everett, drawing her 
 nearer to his side, as if he would shield her from even 
 the recollection of such trials ; " you endured all this 
 for the love of Him who had bought you with his own 
 blood, and he has given you a rich reward." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " exclaimed Juliette, her face brightening 
 at once. "Think of dear father ; I can scarcely realize 
 it, even now, that he has taken the very step he re 
 fused to allow me to take. How anxious he was that 
 I should go forward publicly, with him, to profess his 
 faith in the merits of his Saviour, before I was mar 
 ried, as if he wished to show that it was by his sanction 
 I did it ! " 
 
 "Yes," rejoined her husband, "I could hardly ac 
 count for his haste in confessing Christ, though I have 
 no doubt the change in his feelings is a genuine one, 
 except from the knowledge of his general character. I 
 have heard my mother say that whatever he under 
 took, he carried into it all the zeal and energy of his 
 nature. 'She ascribed his wonderful success in busi 
 ness to this cause." 
 
 " This is Mr. B 's," murmured Juliette, as the 
 
 carriage stopped. 
 
 The interview was a delightful one. The good pas 
 tor thanked her for her former interest in his church 
 and the Sabbath school ; told her he missed her as a 
 heaier, and wished that the zeal she had manifested
 
 JULIETTE. 401 
 
 for her young scholars might be exhibited for others 
 in her native city. 
 
 It was now past noon ; and Juliette hastened to give 
 the driver directions for the part of the town where 
 many of the foreign population lived, in the hope of 
 seeing her scholars while they were out of school for 
 dinner. 
 
 It had been one of her most pleasant employments, 
 a few. days before she left New York, to purchase a 
 handsome Bible for each of the young girls she had 
 taught ; and nothing could exceed their delight, as, en 
 tering the crowded rooms, she sought out one and 
 another, and presented the precious volume as a token 
 of her interest in their welfare. 
 
 Scarcely one of the nine received the announcement 
 that she could not continue their teacher, without a 
 burst of tears, until poor Juliette was quite overcome. 
 
 " What is there," she exclaimed, as they drove rap 
 idly toward the hotel, "in the gayeties of fashionable 
 life that can compensate for pleasures like these ? I 
 am indebted to those nine girls for some of the happiest 
 hours I ever passed." 
 
 "I am glad, indeed, to have seen them," answered 
 her husband, with much feeling. "Agnes told me of 
 your indefatigable labors for their good." 
 
 Early evening found them back in their rooms at the 
 Tremont, from which place they returned the next day 
 to New York, to be in season for the visit of Agnes 
 and Mr. Ashley early the following week. 
 
 They were disappointed, on reaching home, to find 
 34*
 
 402 JULIETTE. 
 
 that Mr. Fearing, the morning after they left, had had 
 a slight return of his illness, occasioned, as the physi 
 cian supposed, by the excitement of the previous day. 
 His father, who had never seen him suffering under an 
 attack of convulsions was greatly alarmed, and sup 
 posed him dying, and was urgent with Henry to tele 
 graph at once for his daughter. 
 
 Dr. M did not consider this necessary ; but 
 
 Susan was determined, unless he were speedily re 
 lieved, to send to Stamford for James. 
 
 Juliette was quite unnerved at the delight of her 
 father on seeing her enter his chamber. Though now 
 able to sit up, and looking nearly as well as when she 
 left home, she was startled at the impressive tone in 
 which he said, "I can't let you leave me again; for his 
 mother's sake, Horace must allow you to be with me 
 the short time I shall remain." 
 
 Through the whole of the next day, which was the 
 Sabbath, Juliette scarcely left him a moment, though, 
 as he seemed nearly as well as usual, her husband 
 somewhat urged her to accompany him to church in 
 the morning, and even Mr. Fearing added, "Perhaps 
 you had better go, dear ; Susan will read to me till you 
 return." 
 
 But a feeling, which she could not explain to herself, 
 prompted her to remain by his side, and a most profita 
 ble Sabbath it proved. 
 
 Mr. Fearing related to his daughter, more fully than 
 he had ever done before, an account of the various 
 exercises of his mind, beginning from the hour of his
 
 JULIETTE. 403 
 
 mother's decease, when he resolved to search the 
 Bible for those truths so precious to her in her last mo 
 ments. Then the anguish he endured in finding his 
 idolized child had acted upon the words he had uttered 
 in his hot anger, and, dreading to be forced to give up 
 her Saviour, had fled from temptation and from the 
 endearments of home. After every effort at finding 
 her had failed, a constantly increasing conviction of her 
 death had fastened itself upon his mind, and from that 
 moment he knew no rest. He shut up his house and 
 fled to foreign lands, to drown the ever-recurring cry 
 of conscience, " You have killed her. Your cruelty 
 has murdered your daughter." When they met Hor 
 ace, it was with such a torrent of emotion that he com 
 municated the probability of her decease, that the 
 young man, wholly misunderstanding the statement, 
 had never ventured to advert to the subject again in 
 his presence. 
 
 " I travelled with the gay party from one place to 
 another," he went on, "finding no solace except in the 
 society of my sorrowing son, who mourned the loss of 
 one so dearly loved, until, one day in my room, I took 
 up a small Bible with these words written in a school 
 girl's hand, on the fly-leaf, "To my very dear brother, 
 Horace Everett, from his affectionate little sister, Juli 
 ette." It bore the marks of constant use, and I began 
 to wonder whether he, too, loved the Bible. Clinging 
 to it because it had been yours, I hid it in my breast 
 pocket; and when Horace entered and looked anx-
 
 404 JULIETTE. 
 
 iously around the room, I said nothing of having it ill 
 my possession. 
 
 " I kept it for months and read in it daily ; and only 
 returned it on hearing the owner one day deploring its 
 loss. I never shall forget his joy at recovering his 
 lost treasure, nor the haste with which he gave me in 
 its place the one he had purchased for himself. Though 
 I well knew he loved you, I had no idea, until then, of 
 the ardor of his attachment, nor of the depth of his 
 suffering at your supposed decease. 
 
 "Under the subduing influence of this discovery, I 
 ventured to hint at the state of my own heart ; but he 
 was reserved. I suppose his knowing my bitter preju 
 dices against the doctrines of grace, together with the 
 feeling that he owed me the respect of a son , prevented 
 his addressing me with the frank unreserve and faith 
 fulness which, in the case of your friend, Mr. Smith, 
 have been so blessed to my soul. 
 
 " Tired at last of this constant struggle with con 
 science, I announced my intention of returning home. 
 'It can't be worse there,' I said to myself, 'and I 
 shall have the comfort of being under my own roof.' 
 
 "But once here, the thought of you, my daughter, 
 returned with tenfold anguish. I shut myself up from 
 all society, and found no peace but in perusing again, 
 and for the hundredth time, the parable of the prodi 
 gal son returning to his father. 'I have sinned, I have 
 sinned,' was the agonizing cry of my heart ; but how 
 could I, a murderer, dare add, ' God be merciful to me 
 a sinner ' ? ' God have mercy upon me ' ?
 
 JULIETTE. 405 
 
 "In this state I was, when Horace entered one 
 morning, gasping with some ill-concealed emotion. 
 He tried to prepare me ; but the joyful words, ' Juliette 
 is alive ! Juliette is well and will soon return to us ! ' 
 sounded in my cars. The next moment, reason and 
 consciousness were lost in the wild excess of my joy. 
 
 " Can you wonder, my dear, that I was carried to 
 the gates of death ? But I struggled for life ; for one 
 precious glimpse of you ; and hope began to whisper, 
 ' God is merciful. It may be he is willing to save you, 
 even you, the chief of sinners.' 
 
 " You came at last, and know how rich his grace, 
 how abounding his love has proved to me." 
 
 Juliette, who had wept tears of mingled joy and 
 pain, began to fear lest this excitement would prove a 
 serious injury to his health. She put her arm around 
 him, seating herself on a taboret at his feet, as she had 
 done on her first return from school. 
 
 He kissed her affectionately, as he said, taking a 
 soiled, worn envelope from his pocket, "The day after 
 you were married , a bundle of letters and papers were 
 sent to me from the store, and among them this," 
 pressing his lips upon it, "written by you in Stam 
 ford, and which has followed us from place to place, 
 in Europe, until, at length, I received it here. 
 
 " O Juliette, I hope you will never experience such 
 agony as I felt when I perused that heart-rending ap 
 peal ! My emotion was too much for my feeble 
 frame, and I had a slight convulsion. I determined 
 then, that if I lived to see you again, I would lay my
 
 406 JULIETTE. 
 
 heart bare before you, and then once more implore 
 your forgiveness." 
 
 Folding the letter carefully he placed it in another 
 envelope prepared for the purpose, with the words 
 written upon it, "To be placed unopened in my coffin 
 and buried with me," saying, in a broken voice, "No 
 eye must see this ; it is too sacred."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVn. 
 
 " Full of repentance, 
 
 Continual meditation, tears, and sorrows, 
 He gave his riches to the world again ; 
 His humbled soul to God, and slept in peace." 
 
 AFTER the second service, Mrs. Everett rang for 
 Eliza to bring a cup of tea to her father's room, 
 as she intended to excuse herself from the table. 
 
 When he saw the preparations for his evening meal, 
 Mr. Fearing smiled as he pointed to the dainty little 
 tete-a-tete set, and said, "Well, I have no doubt I 
 shall eat with a better relish." 
 
 At last Eliza announced that all was ready, and Ju 
 liette playfully waited upon her father to a seat at one 
 end of the small table, while she took her place oppo 
 site him. The tea was served in small china cups of 
 an antique pattern, and the bride was just abooit to 
 pour his, when he put up his hand, " Stop a minute, 
 my dear." 
 
 He then in a few fervent words implored the bless 
 ing of their heavenly Father upon the food now set 
 before them, ending thus : " That in living and dying 
 we ma}' glorify thy name." 
 
 There was a solemnity in his manner, and an im- 
 pressiveness in his tone, as he pronounced the last 
 
 407
 
 408 JULIETTE. 
 
 words, which sent a thrill of pain through his daugh 
 ter's heart. She tried to shake it off and appear com 
 posed, but was sure he noticed the trembling of her 
 hand as she passed him the cup. 
 
 He conversed cheerfully during the repast which, he 
 assured her, owing to her presence, he enjoyed much ; 
 spoke of his hope regarding his son, and of his inter 
 est in Susan. "I am glad," he said, "to have had my 
 father meet her here, and still more so to see that her 
 artless, unaffected warmth of manner has quite won his 
 heart." 
 
 Horace excused himself from the table after the first 
 course, to join the party above stairs ; and here, at an 
 early hour in the evening, the others were summoned 
 for family devotion. 
 
 Horace, as usual, read a short portion of Scripture, 
 and was about to lead in prayer, when, with a slight 
 motion, Mr. Fearing interrupted him, and, rising 
 slowly from his scat, began the exercise himself. 
 
 The old gentleman was greatly affected, and hurried 
 from the room the moment the prayer was concluded. 
 Juliette noticed, too, that Henry's eyes glistened with 
 interest. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Fearing, " Johnson may- come to 
 me. I wish to retire to rest." 
 
 This man, who had accompanied him in all his trav 
 els, was a most faithful servant, and had slept in his 
 room ever since his first attack of sickness. When he 
 came, in answer to the bell, Juliette kissed her father 
 and bade him good-night.
 
 JULIETTE. 409 
 
 He patted her cheek affectionately, saying, "You 
 have been a good girl, to-day ;" and then added, "run 
 away now, dear, and get all the sleep you can." 
 
 She repeated this remark to her husband, and won 
 dered what he meant. 
 
 Toward noon, on Monday, Mr. and Mrs. Ashley ar 
 rived, but only to remain for a few hours, as the pastor 
 had been summoned home in consequence of the severe 
 illness of one of his parishioners. 
 
 The two brides met most cordially, and began to 
 chat at once on subjects interesting to both. 
 
 "I am disappointed," said Agnes, "not to return 
 home through Lowell, as we intended, but must defer 
 my visit there until another time." 
 
 Juliette then gave a brief account of her calls upon 
 their former friends. 
 
 "I find Mr. Ashley is a perfect tyrant ! " exclaimed 
 the young bride, in a tone intended to reach his ears. 
 "I had no idea he was so set in his way. Why, after 
 we received the letter from home, he seemed so grave 
 and anxious, that I urged him to go direct from Al 
 bany ; but he was as firm as a rock, and I had to sub 
 mit with the best grace I could." 
 
 Juliette glauced at the gentleman, but he appeared 
 wholly ^unmoved at this serious charge against his char 
 acter, while her friend added in a lower tone, " He knew 
 how terribly disappointed I should be to go home with 
 out seeing you, and thought, by taking the express 
 train to-night, we could reach W almost as soon." 
 
 Juliette presently invited Mrs. Ashley to her suite 
 
 35
 
 410 JULIETTE. 
 
 of apartments upstairs, which had been handsomely 
 decorated on the occasion of her marriage. 
 
 " And though you had been accustomed to all this 
 luxury, you could content yourself in our small room 
 at Mrs. Palmer's," cried Agnes, raising her hands in 
 astonishment. " O Juliette ! how few there are who 
 would not have compromised between their two mas 
 ters ! " 
 
 " I brought you here to whisper one little word of 
 advice, dear friend," said Mrs. Everett, affectionately 
 taking Agnes' hand. "If you wish to have your 
 people respect their pastor you must show them that 
 you do so. It grieved me to hear you call so good a 
 man and so kind a husband a tyrant, even in joke." 
 
 " I'm likely to learn all my faults between you and 
 Mr. Ashley," returned the othe,r, half laughing. 
 "But," she added, more earnestly, "I do love you, 
 Juliette, and wish I were more like you, and really I 
 thank you for your advice." 
 
 Mr. Fearing w r ell remembered his son's friend, who 
 had passed one of their college vacations at his house, 
 and sent down word to his daughter that he should 
 like to see them in his room. 
 
 Mrs. Ashley, who had heard from her husband of 
 his cruelty to her dear friend, had conceived a strong 
 prejudice against him, and was rather reluctant to 
 obey the summons ; but a single glance into his face, 
 glowing as it was with interest for one who had be 
 friended his daughter, and all resentment against him 
 vanished.
 
 JULIETTE. 411 
 
 He extended his hand with great cordiality, tender 
 ness even ; apologized for being obliged to receive 
 them in his chamber, and then went on to thank the 
 young lady for her attention to his Juliette, every now 
 and then casting upon the latter a glance brimful of 
 affection. 
 
 With Mr. Ashley he conversed about his parish, 
 and subjects in general, for an hour, until the servant 
 summoned them to the early dinner, which Mrs. 
 Everett had ordered for her guests. 
 
 "Mr. Everett," cried Agnes, as they stood together 
 while the carriage was waiting to take them to the 
 cars, "Juliette and I have been talking about our hus 
 bands ; and we each are satisfied that our own is the 
 best in the world. Mr. Ashley has promised if I'm 
 good and dutiful and so forth, that I may come to New 
 York for a longer visit next year; so by that time 
 you'll scarcely know me, I'm going to try so hard to 
 imitate your wife." 
 
 " No, no," rejoined Juliette, playfully, " try to be 
 and act yourself. I should be sorry to lose my friend 
 Agnes." 
 
 "I am so glad to have seen your father," said her 
 companion. "I do think he has a most heavenly ex 
 pression." 
 
 Mrs. Everett sighed ; she had thought the same, but 
 a nameless fear crept over her at hearing it expressed. 
 
 " She is a noble-hearted woman," she exclaimed to 
 her husband, as they were ascending the stairs to her 
 father's chamber after their friends had left. " Mrs.
 
 412 JULIETTE. 
 
 Ashley has been telling me about her brother Caleb 
 whom she has supported all the time she has worked 
 in the factory, that he might acquire an education. 
 
 "He is now ready to be licensed to preach, but is 
 intending to take a school for the winter in order to 
 pay his expenses at a theological seminary for a few 
 months next year." 
 
 Mr. Fearing seemed much interested in the con 
 versation, but at an earlier hour then usual requested 
 Horace to read and pray. He then called Juliette to 
 his side and asked whether she expected Henry would 
 return to-night from Stamford (he had gone early in 
 the morning to accompany Susan home) . 
 
 - His father came in while they were talking to bid 
 his sou good-night ; and he held the old gentleman's 
 hand in his for a moment, as if he had something more 
 he desired to say to him ; but at last only repeated the 
 wish that he might enjoy a refreshing sleep. 
 
 When her grandfather had left the room Juliette 
 said, " You are tired, father ; and I ought to go, too ; " 
 but instead of that, she slid down on a taboret at his 
 feet, and in her fond way laid her head on his knee. 
 
 He placed his hand on her cheek, and she could feel 
 that it trembled as he said to Horace, "Be gentle with 
 her, my son. She has a loving heart. ' You must 
 make up to her, by your affection, for all the harsh 
 treatment she has received from me." 
 
 " Father ! father ! " she cried, catching his hand, 
 M oh, why will you refer to that which I have so long
 
 JULIETTE. 413 
 
 forgotten? Never had child so tender, so loving a 
 father." 
 
 With a sudden gasp, Mr. Fearing pressed his hand 
 to his heart, but when his companions, alarmed at his 
 pallor, quickly asked, "Are you ill?" he answered 
 with a smile, " It has passed now." 
 
 His daughter, however, could not shake off the idea 
 that he was suffering, and even after she had re 
 luctantly bid him good-night when Johnson came to 
 assist him to bed, she made an excuse to go back to 
 ask whether she could do nothing more for his com 
 fort? 
 
 He held her before him and gazed earnestly in her 
 face a moment, saying, "I never noticed how much you 
 resemble your mother, my dear." Then requesting 
 her to hold a miniature of his deceased Juliette, which 
 be wore on his neck, where he could see it, he regard 
 ed it tenderly, and added, "Don't let this be removed 
 from my breast." 
 
 Johnson stood waiting, and at last suggested a fear 
 that his master would become too much excited to 
 sleep, when his daughter reluctantly left the room. 
 
 It was but little past midnight, when a loud cry 
 for help started her from her slumber. Throwing 
 hastily over her shoulders a large shawl, she rushed 
 to the door exclaiming, " O Horace ! quick ! quick ! it 
 is father ! let us go to him ! " 
 
 They met Johnson at the door coming to rouse 
 them, his cheeks blanched with terror. " He's going 
 fast, miss," he said, in a shaking voice. ' 
 35*
 
 414 JULIETTE. 
 
 But Juliette had rushed past them both, and was 
 already on her knees beside the dying man. Yes, one 
 glance into his face, and the fatal truth fastened itself 
 with irresistible force upon her mind. 
 
 With one heart-rending cry, she hid her face in the 
 bedclothes, but his voice, calm and clear, roused her. 
 " Stand up, Juliette, where I can see you. My sum 
 mons has come. It is not unwelcome, nor unexpected. 
 I have a blessed assurance that I am going into the 
 presence of my Saviour to spend an eternity in singing 
 his matchless love." 
 
 He raised his eyes, while a seraphic smile illumi 
 nated his whole countenance. 
 
 At this moment his father, whom Horace had hastily 
 summoned, came forward, weeping and trembling, to 
 the side of the bed. 
 
 After a short spasm of pain, the dying son took his 
 father's hand and said, "I am going home. I shall 
 Bee mother there. Shall I tell her you love her 
 Saviour, and will soon follow us ? " 
 
 A terrible groan was the only reply. " Dear father, 
 listen to the words of a dying man ; you will never 
 have peace till you find it at the foot of the cross." 
 
 By this time all the servants in the house were 
 collected in the room, and stood weeping around the 
 bed. 
 
 Mr. Fearing alone seemed calm and undismayed. 
 "Tell Henry," he said, turning to Horace, "not to 
 waste his youth and manhood as I have done ; but to 
 devote his best strength to the service of his heavenly
 
 JULIETTE. 415 
 
 Master. On you, my dear son, I have bestowed the 
 most precious gift in my possession. I am sure you 
 will aid each other in every Christian virtue." 
 
 Turning to his daughter, he added, " I want to hear 
 you sing once more." 
 
 She tried in vain to suppress her sobs, and at last 
 shook her head to intimate that she could not com 
 mand her voice. 
 
 "For his sake, try to compose yourself, dear 
 Juliette," whispered her husband. 
 
 One minute more of almost convulsive effort, and 
 her sweet voice, feeble and trembling, commenced the 
 precious words, 
 
 " Now and forever I 
 
 This promise our trust, 
 Though ashes to ashes, 
 
 And dust unto dust, 
 Now and forever 
 
 Our union shall be 
 Made perfect our glorious 
 
 Redeemer in thee. 
 
 " When the sins and the sorrows 
 
 Of time shall be o'er, 
 Its pangs and its partings 
 
 Remembered no more, 
 When life cannot fail, 
 
 And when death cannot sever, 
 Christians with Christ shall be 
 
 Now and forever." 
 
 Juliette bent over him, her tears falling un 
 consciously upon his head. 
 
 "Thank you, my daughter," he said, feebly drawing 
 her toward him and kissing her cheek. " Now I must 
 bid you farewell."
 
 416 JULIETTE. 
 
 He closed his eyes, and his lips moved as if he 
 were praying ; but presently spoke in a loud voice, 
 
 " I wish to bear my testimony to the truth as it is 
 in Jesus." 
 
 These were his last words, though for nearly an 
 hour he appeared to breathe. 
 
 At the end of that time Horace led the weeping 
 daughter from the room, exclaiming, as he pointed to 
 the bright smile which lingered upon the countenance 
 of the departed, " It may be he is hearing even now 
 his Saviour's voice, ' This day thou shalt be with me in 
 Paradise.' "
 
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