THE 
 
 By T. S. .ARTHUR. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 J. W. BRADLEY, 48 N. FOURTH ST. 
 
 A17BVRN, 2V. K: II. A. YATES, 57 GENESEE STREET. 
 NEW HAVEN: M. BRADLEY, 24 HIGH ST. 
 
 1854. 
 

 ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE TEAS. 1864, BT 
 T. S. ARTHUR, 
 
 TOE CLERK S OFFICE Of THE DISTRICT COURT OF THE UNITED STATES IN 
 AND FOR THE EASTERN DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON AND CO. 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IN the " Golden Age/ angels were the companions of 
 men, holding their spirits in immediate relationship with 
 heaven. But, as the gold of celestial innocence became 
 dimmed by the breath of self-love the parent of all 
 evil angels receded ; and farther and farther they re 
 moved themselves, as men darkened their spirits with 
 sin, until even a perception of their existence faded from 
 the mind. 
 
 As it was in the " Golden Age" of the world, so is it 
 in the first, or "Golden Age" of each individual life, 
 when the innocence of infancy finds angel-companionship. 
 Whoever holds a babe to her bosom, and holds it there 
 lovingly, comes within the sphere of angelic influences; 
 for, with infants and little children, angels are intimately 
 near. This is seen in the tender love that fills the heart 
 of even a wicked mother, when she clasps her helpless 
 offspring in her arms a love flowing forth from heaven, 
 and breathed into her spirit by the angels who are with 
 her babe. 
 
 Into every household angels may enter. They come 
 in through the gate of infancy, and bring with them ce 
 lestial influences. Are there angels in your household ? 
 If so, cherish the heavenly visitants. 
 
 M116081 
 
THE 
 
 ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " BEDLAM let loose !" exclaimed Mr. Harding, pas 
 sionately, as he started up from the corner, near the 
 fire, where he had been sitting moodily since supper- 
 time. " Silence ! or I ll break some of your bones !" 
 
 The children, who had been wrangling, suddenly 
 ceased their noisy strife, and shrunk back from their 
 angry father, who, advancing toward them, seemed half 
 inclined to put his rough threat into execution. 
 
 " There, now ! don t talk and act like a savage !" 
 sharply ejaculated the wife and mother, throwing from 
 her coal-black eyes a scornful glance upon her husband. 
 " If I couldn t speak to children in a better way than 
 that, I d not speak at all." 
 
 We will not put on record the brutal retort of Jacob 
 Harding, as he almost flung himself from the room; 
 throwing over, in his mad haste, little Lotty, the youngest 
 member of his unpromising flock, who happened to be in 
 his way. The loud slamming of the door, and the wild 
 screaming of the child, mingled for the excited mother s 
 ears their sounds discordant. 
 
 r 
 
8 ; yjhTANGEtiOfc THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " He d better break my bones I" said the oldest boy, 
 Andrew, in looks and attitude the picture of defiance. 
 "I d just like to see him try it." 
 
 " Hush this instant, you little vagabond ! How dare 
 you speak so of your father ?" 
 
 "I don t care! He s not going to break my bones." 
 And the young rebel, not over eight years of age, drew 
 himself up, while his eyes, black as his mother s, flashed 
 with boyish indignation. 
 
 "If you say that again, I ll box your ears off!" And 
 Mrs. Harding took two long strides toward the lad, who, 
 knowing something about the weight of her hand, shrunk, 
 muttering, away, and contented himself with thinking all 
 manner of rebellious things, and purposing all kinds of 
 disobedience. 
 
 For a few minutes, after Lotty ceased crying, there was 
 silence in the room not a pleasant, but a gloomy, forced 
 silence. Then Lucy, six years old, and Philip, between 
 four and five, who had been frightened from their play 
 by the scene just described, drew together once more, 
 and commenced rebuilding a block house, which Andrew 
 had wantonly thrown down. Their work, as it again pro 
 gressed, this bad boy watched with an evil eye, and, just 
 as it was near completion, wantonly swept again the fabric 
 into ruins. Unable to control their indignation at this 
 second unprovoked violation of their rights, the outraged 
 brother and sister, as if moved by a single impulse, threw 
 themselves upon Andrew, and with fists, nails, and teeth, 
 sought to do him all the injury in their power. Fierce 
 was the struggle, and long would it have continued, but 
 . the mother s interference. She did not stop to sepa 
 rate them, but, with her open hand, dealt each such 
 rapid and vigorous blows about the head and ears, that 
 they were soon glad to retreat, crying with pain, into 
 opposite parts of the room. 
 
 "Now, off to bed with you this instant! exclaimed 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 9 
 
 the angry mother, " and if I hear a word between you, 
 I ll come up with a switch and cut you half to pieces." 
 
 Andrew, Lucy, and Philip glided from the room, 
 keeping silent through fear, for they understood their 
 mother s present mood well enough to know that it 
 would be dangerous to provoke her further. 
 
 " Come ! let me undress you," said Mrs. Harding to 
 Lotty. There was nothing gentle, nothing of motherly 
 love in the tones of her voice. The waters of her spirit 
 were agitated by a storm, and the sky above them was 
 dark. 
 
 "I don t want to go to bed," answered the child, 
 fretfully. 
 
 "Come here this instant, I say!" cried the mother, 
 with threatening look and tone. 
 
 "I don t want to go to bed," repeated Lotty. 
 
 " D ye hear ? Come this minute !" 
 
 But the child, instead of obeying her mother, shrunk 
 away into the farthest corner of the room. 
 
 "If I have to come to you, miss, you ll be sorry; 
 now, mind !" 
 
 Most children would have been frightened at the dark, 
 threatening eyes that almost flashed with cruelty; but 
 Lotty was self-willed, and strong to endure, though but 
 a child. She inherited a large portion of her mother s 
 peculiar spirit. Instead of yielding to this threat, she 
 crouched down in the corner, and cast back at her mother 
 a look of defiance. Mrs. Harding was in no mood for a 
 long parley. There were times when the mother in her 
 was strong; and then, for the sake of her wayward, self- 
 willed child, she would patiently strive with her, and use 
 all gentler efforts to bend her to obedience. But now 
 the mother had given place to the passionate woman. It 
 was one of her hours of darkness, when all the evil of her 
 perverse nature had sway. A few moments she fixed 
 her eyes upon those of Lotty, throwing into them, as she 
 
10 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 did so, a fiercer light ; but this failing to intimidate the 
 stubborn child, all patience gave way, and she darted 
 toward her with something like a tiger s spring. Seizing 
 the still resisting little one, Mrs. Harding jerked her 
 from the corner into which she had retreated, and as she 
 lifted her up into the air, struck her three or four hard 
 blows in quick succession. 
 
 Did Lotty lie still now in her arms, or stand passively 
 by her side ? Not so. The spirit of rebellion was like 
 a young giant in her heart, and blows only quickened 
 this spirit into more vigorous life. The child screamed 
 and struggled, and even struck her mother in the face. 
 Such resistance to. her will only made Mrs. Harding 
 blindly resolute. More smarting and longer continued 
 blows were returned, and to these was added such a mad 
 shaking of the child, as she held her out with both hands 
 in the air, that Lotty, losing her breath, became fright 
 ened, and ceased her struggles. 
 
 "I ll break that stubborn spirit of yours, if I kill 
 you !" said the mother, with cruel triumph in her tones, 
 as she set Lotty down upon the floor heavily. With 
 impatient hands the garments were almost torn from the 
 little one s body, and replaced by her night-gown. Then, 
 without an evening prayer, a kiss, or a kind good-night, 
 she was placed in bed ; her only benediction an almost 
 savage threat of consequences, should a single word pass 
 her lips. 
 
 All was silent now in the house. The older children 
 had fallen quickly to sleep, and Lotty, subdued by the 
 power of fear, restrained the rebel cries that were almost 
 bursting her heart for utterance. She, too, soon passed 
 into the world of dreams. Was it a beautiful world to 
 her, poor child? or did haunting images, terrible in 
 shape, follow her there from the real world in which she 
 daily struggled and suffered ? 
 
 Alone, with not a sound on the air but an occasional 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 11 
 
 sob from Lotty, the tumult of whoso feelings even sleep 
 had not entirely subdued, Mrs. Harding s state of mind 
 underwent a gradual transition. There are few in whose 
 spirit subsiding anger does not leave its debris of sad 
 emotions, or painful self-condemnation. It had ever 
 been so in the case of Mrs. Harding, yet had she not 
 seemed to grow wiser by suffering. With every new 
 cause of excitement, her quick temper fired up and 
 burned its little hour fiercely ; and, ever as the fire died 
 out, her spirit felt colder than before, and groped sadly 
 in a deeper darkness. And it was so again. How re- 
 bukingly upon this state came, now in a single deep 
 sigh, and now in fluttering sobs, the grief of her self- 
 willed child, prolonged even into slumber. So painful 
 was this sound at length, that Mrs. Harding went softly 
 and closed the door that opened into the room where 
 Lotty was sleeping. But, through the shut door, came, 
 ever and anon, the sigh or sob, each time smiting her ear 
 sadly, and adding to the gloomy depression from which 
 she was now suffering. Nor was this the only cause of 
 self-upbraiding. She was alone, and why ? Sharp, in 
 sulting words, striking on the ears of her impatient hus 
 band, had driven him, as the same cause had before, 
 times without number, from home, to spend his evenings 
 at the tavern, among scenes and associates of a degrading 
 character. Ah ! how often and often had the unhappy 
 wife, as she sat through the lonely evening hours, wept 
 far the absence of him whom her blind passion had driven 
 forth even from the hearth her presence might have 
 made warm and attractive. 
 
 Alas ! that suffering taught not this ill-governed 
 woman its lessons of wisdom. That remembered anguish 
 did not act as a stimulus to self-control. Ever as a leaf 
 in the wind was she, when the gust of passion arose. As 
 it had been with her many, many times, so was it now. 
 She was too unhappy for any thing but tears ; and so, 
 
12 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 letting the work she had taken up fall into her lap, she 
 drew her hands over her face, and sat idle, weeping, and 
 miserable. A knock on the door disturbed her wretched 
 mood. It was night, and their house stood at some dis 
 tance from the nearest neighbour. Mrs. Harding was no 
 timid woman; yet this summons startled her, not be 
 cause it was bold and imperative ; on the contrary, it was 
 low and hesitating. 
 
 Who s there ?" 
 
 She had risen up quickly, and now stood in a hearken 
 ing attitude. 
 
 No voice replied, but the same singular knock was 
 repeated. 
 
 " Who s there, I say ?" 
 
 Sharp though her tones were, a slight tremor betrayed 
 a secret fear. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 A hand was on the door knob. It seemed like the 
 hand of a child, and failed in the apparent effort to gain 
 admittance. Mrs. Harding distinctly heard the rustle of 
 a woman s garments. She tried to repeat the words 
 " Come in ;" but a strange fear prevented utterance. 
 Almost as fixed as a statue, she stood gazing at the door, 
 which, after a little while, swung quietly open. Her 
 eyes caught a momentary glimpse of a white garment^ 
 and then she looked vainly into the deep darkness. 
 There was no form visible. 
 
 " Who s there ?" she cried, after a brief pause ; but 
 silence was the only answer. 
 
 As she still gazed through the open door, her eyes, 
 penetrating farther into the gloomy vail of night, saw 
 dimly an object on the ground. Advancing across the 
 room a few steps, she was able to perceive distinctly 
 that this object was a large basket, covered with a cloth. 
 
 Who s there ? What s wanted ?" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 13 
 
 Again she sought an answer; but no response came. 
 Boldly now she stepped to the door, and bending her 
 body out, peered farther into the darkness; but there 
 was no movement nor sound that indicated the presence 
 of friend or stranger. Close by the door-step stood the 
 basket. She stretched forth a hand, and made an effort 
 to raise it from the ground ; but to do this required the 
 exercise of considerable strength. 
 
 " This is strange ! What can it mean ?" said she to 
 herself, again searching with her eyes into the surround 
 ing darkness. 
 
 "Jacob! Jacob!" 
 
 A thought that her husband might have brought the 
 basket, flitting across her mind, prompted her to call his 
 name. 
 
 But no answer came back upon the quiet air, that bore 
 her voice afar off, until it died in the distance. Why 
 does she start so ? A low smothered cry, like that of an 
 infant, has come suddenly upon her ear ; from whence, 
 she is in no doubt, for already she has lifted the basket, 
 and is bearing it into the house. 
 
 How wildly excited was the countenance of Mrs. Hard 
 ing, as she stooped down, and with unsteady hand re 
 moved the white napkin that covered the basket. The 
 sight revealed would have touched a harder heart than 
 hers. A babe, only a few weeks old, lifted to hers a 
 pair of the softest blue eyes that ever reflected the light; 
 and as it did so, fluttered its little hands, and showed all 
 the instinctive eagerness of an infant to be clasped to a 
 mother s bosom. 
 
 Now, with all the hardness and passionate self-will of 
 the woman, up into whose face this helpless, innocent 
 stranger looked, there was a warm chamber in her heart, 
 over the door of which was written " mother ;" and the 
 hand of an angel opened this door to admit the babe so 
 cruelly abandoned. Her first impulse was obeyed that 
 2 
 
14 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 prompted her to lift the child quickly from the basket, 
 and fold it in her arms. A sweet, confiding smile played 
 softly around its lips ; and its large, beautiful eyes rested 
 in hers with an expression so full of loving confidence, 
 that she felt her whole bosom warming with love, and 
 yearning toward it with inexpressible tenderness. The 
 kiss that could not be withheld from the rosy lips that 
 parted to receive the salutation, was the kiss of a mother. 
 
 Ere there was time for reflection or observation, the 
 babe had won its way into the heart of Mrs. Harding. 
 The door still remained open as she had left it in the ex 
 citement incident to bearing in the basket. Mrs. Hard 
 ing, now aware of this, arose, still holding the child in 
 her arms, and crossed the room to shut the door. Was 
 it really so ; or did her imagination create the picture ? 
 Be this as it may, just in the dusky extreme of the circle 
 of light made by the rays pouring out from her lamp, 
 she saw the form of a woman. The face was distinct, 
 and its expression never to be forgotten. It was a young 
 face, very sad, very full, and very beautiful. The hands 
 were clasped tightly together, and the figure seemed 
 bending forward eagerly. For a moment or two the 
 vision was distinct; then it faded slowly, and the eyes 
 of Mrs. Harding saw nothing but darkness 
 
 Closing the door, with a strange feeling about her 
 heart, she went back to where the basket stood upon the 
 floor, and, seating herself beside it, the babe on her lap, 
 commenced an examination into its contents, with the 
 hope of gaining some light on the mysterious circum 
 stance. But nothing here gave her the least clue to the 
 parentage of the child, or made clear the reasons for 
 committing it to her tender mercies. In the basket were 
 four or five full changes of clothes, most of them made 
 of good, but not very fine material, except the white 
 flannel skirts, which were soft as down, and of the 
 choicest quality. These were not so new as the other 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 15 
 
 articles. No letter was to be found in the basket ; nor 
 did it contain any money. 
 
 While Mrs. Harding was thus seeking for all possible 
 light in regard to the babe, it had fallen asleep in her 
 arms, unconscious that any great change had taken place 
 in its fortunes or friends, and as happy in its slumbers as 
 when it nestled on its mother s bosom if, indeed, it had 
 ever known that blessed privilege. Perceiving this, arid 
 affected with a new tenderness as she gazed down upon 
 its face one of uncommon sweetness, even for a babe 
 she sat for many minutes with her eyes upon its counte 
 nance. Her gaze seemed held there as if by a kind of 
 fascination. What a yearning love grew up in her heart, 
 gaining strength every moment ! She wondered at her 
 own feelings. 
 
 Kising now, and holding the child with exceeding 
 care, she passed into the next room her own chamber, 
 where Lotty was sleeping and gently laid the sweet young 
 stranger in her bed. Here she lingered for some time, 
 leaning over and looking upon the child. Once or twice 
 she left the bed, and went as far as the door, purposing 
 to leave the chamber. But a strange attraction drew her 
 to the babe again and again, and each time it seemed 
 that its face had acquired a newer beauty. 
 
 At last, Mrs. Harding compelled herself to leave the 
 apartment; and as she did so, she closed the door softly. 
 Sitting down by the basket, she commenced a new exa 
 mination of its contents. This was as fruitless of intelli 
 gence as the first. Not a mark nor sign was there, to tell 
 from whence the infant came. 
 
 Half an hour elapsed, and still Mrs. Harding sat 
 musing over the basket, her mind incapable of finding, 
 for the present, interest in any thing but what apper 
 tained to the babe. 
 
 Thus she was sitting, when the heavy tread of her 
 husband startled her into painful consciousness of coming 
 
16 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 trouble. Jacob had never been very fond of children 
 not even of his own, toward whom he had shown but 
 little tenderness. That he would manifest only ill-nature, 
 perhaps give way to violent passions as soon as he learned 
 that a strange infant had been left at his door, she had 
 too good reason to fear. 
 
 He came in roughly, as was his wont shutting the 
 door heavily behind him. 
 
 Hush I" 
 
 Mrs. Harding raised her hand involuntarily, to enjoin 
 silence. But her rude husband strode noisily across the 
 floor, heedless of her warning. 
 
 " What s that ?" he said, as his eyes rested on the 
 strange-looking basket. 
 
 " You would hardly guess," answered Mrs. Harding, 
 sneaking with a forced pleasantness of tone, very unusual 
 with her when addressing her husband. 
 
 " I shall hardly try," said he, gruffly. 
 
 " A strange thing has happened to-night." 
 
 The voice of Mrs. Harding was not as steady as she 
 wished it to be. 
 
 " How, strange? "What has happened? Who s been 
 here?" 
 
 " That basket was left at our door to-night." 
 
 " By whom ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell." 
 
 " With somebody s cast-off brat in it, I suppose," said 
 Harding, with a flush of anger in his face,^ for now he 
 saw the baby clothing which his wife had taken from the 
 basket and laid on the table. " Is it so ?" 
 
 The flush had deepened to a fiery glow, and his eyes 
 burned with indignation. 
 
 "The basket contained a young babe," said Mrs. 
 Harding calmly, and with a mother s tenderness in her 
 voice; "the sweetest, loveliest babe your eyes ever 
 rested upon." 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 17 
 
 ft Pshaw !" And Harding averted his face, on which 
 was a look of supreme contempt. " I d like to know," 
 he added, menacingly, ll who has dared do this thing !" 
 
 " That we are not likely soon to know/ said Mrs. 
 Harding. " The basket contained only infant clothing." 
 
 An almost savage imprecation leaped from the tongue 
 of Jacob Harding. For a little while he stormed about 
 the room like a madman. Under almost any other cir 
 cumstances, his conduct would have kindled up in the 
 mind of his wife as fierce a flame as that which burned 
 in his own. But a woman s true instincts subdued her 
 passionate nature, usually so quick to gather all its 
 forces for combat. Silently she waited for the fire to 
 burn out in her husband s mind for want of fresh fuel, 
 that she well knew how to supply. 
 
 " It is such a sweet baby," said Mrs. Harding, in as 
 calm a voice as she could assume, after her husband s 
 fierce indignation had in a measure consumed itself. 
 
 " Humph ! sweet !" How the selfish, cruel animal 
 growled ! What a look of disgust was on his counte 
 nance scarcely human in its expression ! 
 
 Harding had come home from the tavern, ripe for a 
 quarrel; and he was doing all in his power impotent 
 of effect so far to raise a storm. He had not been 
 drinking much : only enough to deaden all of true man 
 hood that he possessed, and to quicken into active force 
 the evil of his nature. He now perceived the change in 
 his wife, and at once divined the cause. The foundling 
 had won its way into her heart, and she was already 
 purposing to adopt it as her own. The thought enraged 
 him anew. 
 
 " Where is the brat ?" he exclaimed, starting up with 
 a fresh burst of anger. " I ll throw it out of doors !" 
 
 " Better replace it in the basket, poor thing !" answered 
 Mrs. Harding. " It has done us no harm." 
 
 " Very well. Put the duds back into the basket, and 
 2* 
 
18 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 the child with them. They shan t stay in my house 
 to-night I" 
 
 Conscious that, if she gained over her husband at all, 
 it must be through apparent yielding, rather than resist 
 ance to his will, Mrs. Harding commenced slowly re 
 placing the baby clothes, as if about to do his bidding. 
 A little wondering at this passive acquiescence on the 
 part of his wife, Harding stood looking on while she laid 
 in garment after garment. 
 
 " It is dark out, Jacob, and will be cold before morn 
 ing. And then the dogs, or some other animal, might 
 hurt the poor helpless thing." 
 
 "I don t care. It shan t stay in my house to-night. 
 I ll teach people better than to leave their brats at my 
 door I will !" 
 
 The man s stubborn spirit was roused by the remon 
 strance of his wife. 
 
 A deep sigh heaved the breast of Mrs. Harding, as she 
 bent once more over the basket, and, to gain time, made 
 some new arrangement of the baby clothes. 
 
 " Don t be all night about it !" growled the savage. 
 
 Mrs. Harding, without a word in reply a circum 
 stance that excited the especial wonder of her husband 
 took up the basket, and passed into their chamber, as if 
 to do his bidding. Acquiescence like this he had been 
 far from anticipating. Yet was he, in the blindness of 
 evil passion, bent on thrusting the babe from his house. 
 The very thought of it was an offence to him. 
 
 " Jacob !" It was the voice of his wife, calling to 
 him from the adjoining room, where she had been for 
 several minutes. 
 
 " What do you want ?" he answered, gruffly. 
 
 " Come here a moment," Mrs. Harding spoke, in a 
 mild, subdued voice. 
 
 " You come here. You re as able to walk as I am/ 1 
 he retorted. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 19 
 
 " Just a minute. I want to show you something." 
 
 Harding arose and went into the room from which his 
 wife had called to him. In the middle of the floor stood 
 the basket, and lying in the basket, with its beautiful 
 face uncovered, was the sleeping infant. 
 
 " There it is, Jacob," said Mrs. Harding, in a low, 
 steady voice. " Cast it forth, if you have the heart to 
 do so I have not." 
 
 How suddenly were the man s steps arrested ! The 
 moment his eyes fell upon the placid face of the infant, 
 so innocent, so peaceful, so heavenly in expression, he 
 felt himself within the circle of some strange power that 
 stilled the waves of passion in his heart. 
 
 " Cast it forth, Jacob, if you can," repeated his wife. 
 " My hands would be powerless were I to make the 
 effort." 
 
 A little while Harding struggled wi^h himself and the 
 new influences that so suddenly pervaded the atmosphere 
 around him; then, with an effort, he turned himself 
 away, and went back into the room from whence his 
 wife had called him. 
 
 Tenderly, very tenderly, did Mrs. Harding lift the 
 sweet babe, still sleeping, from the basket, and replace 
 it in the bed, the moment her husband retired, van 
 quished by weapons his fierce manhood despised, yet 
 against which he had no shield of defence. For some 
 time she bent over the baby, gazing upon its face ; and 
 it was only with an effort that she could tear herself 
 away. 
 
 " You d better keep it all night," said Harding, as 
 his wife entered the room where he was sitting. His 
 voice, though untouched by gentler feelings, was not so 
 harsh and cruel as before. " Some harm might come to 
 it, and then we d be blamed. To-morrow I D have it 
 sent to the poor-house, if no owner can be found." 
 
 Mrs. Harding sighed, but said nothing in reply. She 
 
20 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 was afraid to express what was in her mind, for, by 
 years of sad experience, she knew that for her to express 
 a wish, or to approve a measure, was to insure her hus 
 band s opposition; and, in truth, it must be told, that 
 she had proved no inapt scholar in the same bad school 
 where he had learned his lessons of ill-nature and boot 
 less contention. 
 
 " I only wish I could find out who has dared to do 
 this miserable deed," resumed Harding, his anger grow 
 ing warm again. " A wild beast never deserts her 
 young. The wretch should be gibbeted alive." 
 
 As he said this, a cry arose from the chamber. 
 
 " There it is ! A nice time you ll have with it to 
 night." 
 
 Mrs. Harding went quickly in to the babe, that was 
 now awake. She lifted it gently in her arms, and, as 
 she drew it to he* breast, it commenced nestling there, 
 seeking for the fountain of its life alas ! so suddenly and 
 so cruelly cut off. How deeply was the heart of its new 
 friend stirred by this movement ! What a yearning pity 
 pervaded her bosom ! 
 
 " Dear, dear child I" she murmured, as she bent down 
 her face, and placed that of the infant s closely against 
 it. Holding it thus, she went out into the room where 
 her husband still remained. 
 
 " Won t you get me a little milk in a cup, and some 
 sugar and warm water, Jacob? The poor child is 
 hungry." 
 
 Harding, with considerable reluctance, went off, 
 grumbling, to do as his wife desired. The milk and 
 warm water were brought, and, as he set them on the 
 table, he could not restrain the utterance of an ill- 
 natured remark. To this no answer was returned. 
 
 Much to the relief and pleasure of Mrs. Harding, the 
 babe drank freely from the spoon which was placed to its 
 lips. Evidently, it had been prepared for this great 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 21 
 
 change in its life by those who contemplated abandoning 
 it to strangers. Somehow, Harding s eyes remained 
 riveted on the face of the child, as it took the food pre 
 pared by his wife ; and, strangely enough, the longer he 
 gazed upon it, the gentler became his feelings. The 
 human in him began to rise above the bestial. 
 
 "No punishment is bad enough for the wretch who 
 could desert a child like that," said he, his ready indig 
 nation taking a new direction. " It was fiend-like. " 
 
 " You may well say that, Jacob," returned his wife, 
 as she drew the babe s head back upon her bosom, and 
 looked down tenderly upon its face. "Isn t it beau 
 tiful ?" 
 
 "I never saw any thing very beautiful in babies/ 
 said the man, a little impatiently. He was worried with 
 himself because of the involuntary interest in the little 
 stranger that was awakening in his mind. 
 
 " Oh ! how can you say so ?" 
 
 Something of the sweetness of bygone years was in 
 the voice of Mrs. Harding, and something of the maiden 
 beauty in her face that had won the heart of her hus 
 band in the long-ago time; at least so it seemed to 
 Jacob Harding. 
 
 " It is true, Mary," he answered, even smiling briefly, 
 as he spoke. 
 
 "There is beauty here beauty that even your eyea 
 can see. Dear little angel ! It has come to us like a 
 ray of sunshine, Jacob. You don t know what strange 
 feelings I have had ever since I looked into this sweet 
 countenance. More like a heaven-born than an earthly 
 child the babe stems to me ; and now, as it lies so close 
 against my bosom, I feel such a pleasant thrill going 
 deep, deep, even to the centre of my heart, that I wonder 
 as to the cause." 
 
 " You are foolish, Mary," said Harding, kindly. 
 
 " Maybe I am," she replied, " but I can t help it. 
 
22 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Now it is fast asleep again ! Did you ever see such per 
 fect lashes for a babe ? They lie in a dark line upon its 
 cheeks like the long lashes of a woman. Let me place it 
 in bed again." 
 
 Mrs. Harding arose and turned to go into the bed 
 room. As she did so, her foot caught in the carpet, 
 and she would have fallen forward had not her husband, 
 whose eyes were on her, or, rather, on the babe, sprung 
 instantly forward and caught her. 
 
 " Don t let it fall," he cried, eagerly, stretching his 
 arms around and beyond her, so as to save the child. 
 The act was involuntary; but it betrayed, both to his 
 wife and himself, the strong hold that weak, helpless, 
 unconscious infant had already gained upon his rugged 
 heart. How this betrayal caused the warm blood to 
 leap joyfully through the veins of Mrs. Harding ! 
 When she returned from the bed-room, and addressed 
 her husband, he answered in milder tones than he had 
 spoken to her in many days weeks and months we 
 might almost have ventured to affirm. 
 
 " There s something uncommon about the child, that s 
 certain," he said, as they talked together ; " and I shall 
 not feel just right about sending it off to the poor-house. 
 But it can t stay here, for we ve enough of our own, and 
 it s as much as I can do to fill their mouths." 
 
 To this Mrs. Harding answered nothing. So far, the 
 babe had been its own all-sufficient advocate, and she 
 felt that words from her might prejudice rather than 
 advance its cause. 
 
 As husband and wife laid their heads upon their pil 
 lows that night, each felt a calmness of spirit hitherto 
 unknown. Selfish passions were at rest, and higher and 
 purer emotions so long held down by evil stirred with 
 a new life, and opened the windows of their hearts for 
 the influx of celestial influences. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 As Mrs. Harding lay watchful and musing on her 
 pillow that night, she wondered at her state of feeling. 
 Could the mere presence of a babe effect so great a 
 change ? Four times had she been a mother, and four 
 times she had felt, as a helpless babe, just born into the 
 world, was laid against her heart, an indescribable joy. 
 Too soon had this passed away too soon had her briefly 
 slumbering passions awakened to fresh activity too soon 
 had the trials and temptations of her position changed 
 the heavenly tenderness that pervaded her spirit into 
 harshness or indifference. She remembered all this, and 
 wondered how she could ever have indulged in anger 
 toward the little ones for whose gift her heart had felt 
 such deep thankfulness. 
 
 How distinctly present to the eyes of her mind were 
 Andrew, and Lucy, and Philip, and Lotty ! Not with 
 faces marred, as was, alas ! too often the case, by selfish 
 and cruel passions, but with each young countenance 
 beautified with loving affections. With what a new im 
 pulse did her heart go out toward them ! All the mother 
 in her was stirred to its profoundest depths. While she 
 thought and felt thus toward her own children, involun 
 tarily she raised her head, and bending over, lay, partly 
 reclining, with her eyes fixed upon the calm face of the 
 sweet, young stranger. 
 
 " Baby dear baby !" She could not keep back the 
 low utterance; and, as she spoke, she lifted the sleeper 
 in her arms, and, hugging it to her bosom, commenced 
 rocking her body, and murmuring a tender lullaby. 
 
 "Don t be foolish, Mary!" Jacob Harding spoke 
 
24 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 more roughly than he felt, but in tones less reproving 
 than he had meant to use. " You ll waken the child, 
 and then we shall have a time of it." 
 
 " She is so sweet/ said Mrs. Harding, as she kissed 
 the babe, and then replaced it in the warm nest from 
 which it had just been withdrawn. She did not know 
 that her husband was awake : he had been lying so very 
 still, that she believed him sleeping. But busy thought, 
 excited by a new current of feeling, had driven slumber 
 also from his eyelids. 
 
 " One would think you d never seen a baby before !" 
 
 There was no ill-nature in the voice of Jacob Harding, 
 notwithstanding he tried to speak unkindly. The fact 
 was, he had been so long in the habit of speaking 
 harshly to his wife, that, to address her with any thing 
 like tenderness, seemed an unmanly weakness. And so 
 he put on a rough exterior to hide the softness within. 
 He could not entirely hide it, however. Mrs. Harding 
 perceived all the change he, too, was experiencing, and 
 it but increased her wonder and delight. She did not 
 venture a reply, lest something in her words should 
 quicken the perverse temper of her husband. 
 
 Never in her life before did Mrs. Harding fall asleep 
 in such a state of mind, or with thoughts so full of all 
 tenderness and loving-kindness; and never before came 
 to her a dream so strange and beautiful. Last in her 
 thoughts, as all waking perceptions died, were the sin 
 gular incidents of the evening; and, as fancy began to 
 mingle her airy forms with the things of actual life, the 
 strange vision real or ideal that fixed the eyes of 
 Mrs. Harding, as she gazed through the open door into 
 the surrounding darkness, was most prominent. Across 
 this warp, fancy threw her shuttle, and strange figures 
 were soon made visible in the dreamy fabric she wove. 
 
 Again Mrs. Harding was alone in the family sitting- 
 room. No babe was in her lap ; but, in the open door 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 25 
 
 stood a beautiful woman, and she knew her to be the 
 same whose white, sad, yearning face had been revealed 
 to her a moment on the background of shadows. Ten 
 der and serious, but not sad, was her face now, as she 
 beckoned with her hand. Mrs. Harding arose and fol 
 lowed the lovely apparition. As she stepped beyond the 
 threshold, she became aware that the earth lay in sun 
 light, and that the scenery around was new and more 
 beautiful than any thing she had seen. Here were soft, 
 green meadows, dotted with snow-white lambs; there, 
 leafy avenues, along which the eye ranged to an almost 
 interminable distance, and yonder towered up, even to 
 the spotless heavens, mountains as blue as the sky itself. 
 11 The land of innocence and essential love/ 7 said the 
 stranger, as they gained an eminence and looked down 
 upon the scene spread out in beauty before them. " The 
 angels of childhood dwell here. Whenever a babe ia 
 born upon the earth, two angels from this world are ap 
 pointed to its guardianship, and they remain near the 
 child through all the days of its tender infancy; and 
 near the mother, also, filling her heart with love foi her 
 helpless offspring. It is their presence that so often 
 changes the selfish and cruel woman into the tenderest 
 of mothers. They flow into her mind through love for 
 her babe, and fill it so full of what is gentle and good, 
 that evil passion has no room for activity. But, gra 
 dually, as the minds of infants are opened, through the 
 senses, to a knowledge of the world into which they 
 have been born, and as the will, gaining strength, is 
 moved by inherent evil, the angels gradually recede from 
 both the child and the mother; not because they wish to 
 abandon their charge, but because their gentle influence 
 is no longer perceived. With some they remain longer 
 than with others; for some children are born with fewer 
 perverse iuclinings, and some mothers love their babes 
 with a divine rather than an earthly love." 
 
26 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 As the fair stranger ceased speaking, Mrs. Harding 
 perceived that they were standing in one of the porticos 
 of a building, the architecture of which, in its grandeur, 
 exceeded any thing ever reached by the boldest imagina 
 tion. The walls were of translucent gems, and every 
 where the ornaments, that seemed living forms, gleamed 
 with gold and sparkled with precious stones of wonderful 
 brilliancy. Into this magnificent palace they entered, 
 and the stranger led the way to a large east room, where 
 a small company of beautiful virgins stood near a win 
 dow, from which they were gazing earnestly. 
 
 " Let us approach them," said the stranger ; and they 
 moved over to where the virgins were assembled by the 
 window. 
 
 "Pride and human fear have hardened her heart." 
 Thus spoke one of the virgins. " And she is about to 
 desert the babe. See !" 
 
 All bent near and gazed from the window. To the 
 eyes of Mrs. Harding every thing looked dark and sad. 
 It was some time before she was able to distinguish ob 
 jects; but, when her vision was clear, she recognised all 
 the prominent features of the scene. Dimly revealed 
 from out of the murky shadows, was the neighbourhood 
 where she dwelt, and she seemed to be looking down 
 upon it, as from an eminence. It was night, for all was 
 in half obscurity, and the stars were shining from the 
 sky. Here and there stood a house she knew them all 
 and there was her humble abode, the only one from 
 the window of which light streamed forth upon the 
 gloomy darkness. As she continued to look, an object 
 moving along one of the roads became visible. Gazing 
 more intently, she saw a woman, and in her hand she 
 carried a basket. A thrill passed along every nerve, as 
 she recognised the face that had looked so wildly upon 
 her from the fading circle of light, and she turned 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 27 
 
 quickly toward the stranger who had led her thither 
 but she was now alone with the virgins. 
 
 " Not there," said one of the company. 
 
 The woman had paused before a house, the inmates 
 of which Mrs. Harding knew to be best esteemed in all 
 the neighbourhood for goodness of heart and kindness of 
 action. In this home there was ease and comfort ; and 
 the babe, if left there, would find love and tenderness. 
 
 " Why not there ?" she asked aloud. 
 
 " Even a babe has its mission of good to the world," 
 answered one. " A household angel will this babe be, 
 wherever it is received; for to the best of Heaven s 
 angels has been committed its guardianship. If the 
 mother, hearkening to evil counsel, casts it from her, 
 the blessing of its presence must be for those who need 
 the blessing. No, not there." 
 
 And the woman, who had paused before the dwelling 
 of peace, took up the bundle, and passed on slowly, 
 wearily, and in tears. 
 
 " Not there," said one of the virgins, as she stopped 
 before another dwelling. 
 
 The woman seemed to hear the words, for she raised 
 the basket again, and kept on her way. As she did so, 
 her eyes received the light, streaming forth from the 
 Hardings window, and she turned her step thitherward. 
 
 "The angels of childhood are about to leave that 
 dwelling," said one of the virgins ; " for innocence has 
 almost died in the hearts of the children. A dark 
 shadow is resting over them, for the powers of evil have 
 prevailed over the good. Let the babe go there." 
 
 " There ? Not there !" answered one of the virgins. 
 " The innocent, helpless lamb must not be left in a den 
 of wild beasts." 
 
 " It will not go alone," was replied. " Angels have 
 gathered their protecting arms around it; and its own 
 sphere of innocence will be a wall of defence." 
 
28 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 A low cry reached the ears of 3Irs. Harding the cry 
 
 of a babe. Instantly the vision faded, and she became 
 
 aware that a small, soft hand was nestling in her bosom. 
 
 There was a love, more than human, in her heart, as she 
 
 .Ted the half-waking infant in her arms, and felt 
 
 she had been, and still was, in the company of 
 
 Is. 
 
 How vivid remained the impression of her dream 
 not to her a mere phantasm, but a real vision ! 
 
 "For this great blessing, Father, I am thankful," 
 said she, as she lifted upward her heart to heaven. 
 
 Strange fact ! Not, perhaps, since the days of inno 
 cent childhood until now, had she felt that God was near 
 to her, and near as the Giver of good ; and that she 
 should address God in a thankful spirit ! She wondered, 
 even while she gave involuntary thanks. 
 
 When Mrs. Harding slept again, it was to dream of 
 the babe, and to have a consciousness of deep peace, 
 such as she had never experienced in her waking mo 
 ments. New purposes and better states of niiud had 
 been formed during both the waking and sleeping hours 
 that passed since the little stranger first greeted her with 
 its winning smiles. The morning found her calm, 
 thoughtful, yet sad. What a trial was before her 1 
 Ah ! how clearly she saw her difficult position ! How 
 sunk her heart, as one hard, harsh fact after another, of 
 that position, looked her sternly in the face ! She had 
 as much to fear from within as from without from her 
 ungovernable passions as from the tempers of her hus 
 band and children. 
 
 Dimly the morning broke, the cold light creeping 
 slowly into the chamber where she lay. Her husband 
 and Lotty still slept ; but the babe was awake, and its 
 large blue eyes were looking up into hers. How sweetly 
 it smiled ! How trustful and loving the whole expression 
 ./fits young face! 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 29 
 
 " Blessed baby !" she said tenderly. 
 And it responded to her greeting with a curving lip, 
 and the low, cooing sound of a dove, as she talked to it, 
 forgetful of every thing in the pleasure of the moment. 
 Harding awoke suddenly, and starting up in bed, mut 
 tered some incoherent words, and threw his eyes hastily 
 around the room. His voice chilled the heart of his 
 wife, for she dreaded his waking mood. Scarcely think 
 ing of what she did, Mrs. Harding drew the bed-clothes 
 over the child, and so placed her body as to shield it 
 from his observation. 
 
 " I ve been dreaming, I believe/ said Harding, as he 
 laid himself back on the pillow. 
 
 " Dreaming of what ?" 
 
 Mrs. Harding spoke very gently. In half wonder, 
 her husband turned his head to look into her face the 
 tone was so unusual. 
 
 " I never saw any thing so real." 
 
 " Was it a pleasant dream ?" 
 
 Harding looked over at his wife again. It was the 
 old voice that, in times gone by, had sounded to him so 
 musically. 
 
 "Yes, Mary," he answered, mildly, "it was a plea 
 sant, though a singular dream. I thought some one left 
 a baby at our door" 
 
 He paused abruptly, looked serious for a moment or 
 two, and then said 
 
 " But that was no dream, Mary." 
 
 He now raised himself up, and, as he did so, Mrs. 
 Harding drew down the bed-clothes, and showed him the 
 smiling infant. 
 
 " It was no dream, Jacob," she said, kindly. 
 
 For some time, Harding gazed upon the little face, 
 
 and the longer he gazed, the softer grew his heart. He 
 
 said no more of the dream ; yet, as well to him as to his 
 
 wife, had come a vision though not in all things alike. 
 
 3* 
 
30 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLP. 
 
 He had seen the little abandoned one in sleep, and 
 under circumstances that impressed his mind powerfully. 
 
 It was now broad daylight, and Lotty, as was usual 
 with her, awoke in a bad humour. She commenced 
 crying even before her eyes were fairly open. 
 
 " What do you want, Lotty T asked Mrs. Harding. 
 
 But Lotty cried on ; not seeming to have heard her 
 mother s voice. 
 
 "Lotty! Lotty!" 
 
 The crying did not cease for an instant. 
 
 tl See what I ve got here, Lotty I" 
 
 t( You ain t got any thing !" 
 
 By such words the child had been so often deceived, 
 that no confidence remained even in her mother. And 
 so she kept crying on. 
 
 " Will you hush, now ?" 
 
 The father s patience was gone, and he spoke in a 
 quick, angry voice. How the little stranger babe 
 started ! What a frightened look was in its face ! 
 Harding saw the effect of his harsh tones ; and, for the 
 sake of the babe, regretted the sudden passion to which 
 he had given way. 
 
 "But I have got something here, Lotty," said Mrs. 
 Harding. u It is the dearest little baby you ever saw 
 in your life." 
 
 Instantly the voice was silent, and, springing from the 
 bed in which she lay, Lotty stood beside her mother. 
 Harding watched her face, and saw how suddenly it 
 changed. 
 
 " It is wonderful !" he said to himself, as he arose 
 and commenced dressing "wonderful. It seems even 
 now as if I must be dreaming. l A heaven-sent child. 
 These were the very words that sounded in my ears as I 
 awoke; and I verily believe the babe is from heaven." 
 
 " Baby ! baby ! dear, sweet baby ! mother ! where 
 did it come from ?" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 31 
 
 There was such a gush of delight in the voice of 
 Lotty, who was usually cross in the morning, as she 
 stood on a chair, and bent over the infant, that Mr. 
 Harding s wonder increased. A spell about the babe 
 subdued all who came near. To him it was a new life- 
 phenomenon, the mystery of which filled him with sur 
 prise, not unmingled with a heart-pervading sense of 
 pleasure. 
 
 Mrs. Harding now arose, leaving Lotty and the infant 
 equally delighted with each other, and commenced hur 
 riedly dressing herself. It was her business to prepare 
 the morning meal; for the earnings of her husband were 
 not sufficient to allow her help in the family. With 
 many earnest injunctions to Lotty not to hurt the babe, 
 she left the chamber for the kitchen, in order to make 
 up the fire and get breakfast. Somehow or other, the 
 fire kindled with unwonted quickness; and every touch 
 and movement of her hand seemed to accomplish her 
 purpose more readily than usual. By the time the milk 
 man was at the door, she had the table set, and the 
 kettle was almost ready to boil. The babe s breakfast 
 was her next thought. It was scarcely the work of a 
 moment to dilute some new milk with warm water, to 
 add a little sugar, and a few crumbs of bread, and to 
 bear it into the chamber where she had left the little 
 stranger. 
 
 As she came in noiselessly, she saw her husband 
 stooping over the infant, whose two white, chubby 
 hands were fluttering about his rough face, and heard 
 the cooing, dove-like voice that had sounded once before 
 to her so sweetly. 
 
 As soon as Harding perceived that his wife was pre 
 sent, he left the bedside, half ashamed of his weakness 
 in thus toying with a mere babe. 
 
 " The child must be hungry," he said, with as much 
 indifference as he could affect. 
 
32 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "I ve brought her something to eat/ answered Mrs, 
 Harding. " And won t you, Jacob, while I feed her, 
 call the children, and bring me in an armful or two of 
 wood ? Breakfast will be all ready in a little while." 
 
 There was no resisting the manner of Mrs. Harding. 
 If she had always spoken to her husband as now, he 
 would always have been to her a kind husband. Her 
 power over him for good might have been complete, had 
 she been wise, gentle, and forbearing. But she had 
 exercised no self-control, and almost from the beginning 
 of their married life, had excited the evil in him, rather 
 than the good. How much she had lost, and how much 
 she had suffered in consequence, can hardly be imagined. 
 Her life, for the last six or seven years, might almost be 
 called a living martyrdom. 
 
 Harding did not answer, but went out from the cham 
 ber promptly to do as his wife had requested. Ordi 
 narily, in calling the children, he spoke, to use the 
 strong words of his wife, "as if he would take their 
 heads off." He corrected this bad habit in the present 
 instance; for, instead of ordering them roughly and 
 angrily to get right up, or he would be after them " with 
 a stick/ he ascended to the room where they lay, and 
 spoke kindly, yet firmly, to each one, subduing their 
 waking impatience, by the quiet pressure of his own 
 voice and manner. 
 
 " Andrew/ he said in a tone that, exciting no opposi 
 tion in the boy s mind, left the consciousness that he 
 must obey " dress yourself before you come down, and 
 do it quickly." 
 
 (l Yes, sir," was answered cheerfully, and Andrew 
 sprang from his bed. 
 
 " Philip ! Lucy !" The two younger children rose 
 up. " G-o down to your mother. She wants to dress 
 you." 
 
 The voice and manner of their father were so unusual, 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 33 
 
 that the little ones felt both surprise and pleasure. 
 They obeyed instantly, and Mr. Harding had the strange 
 satisfaction of witnessing an act of ready and cheerful 
 obedience in his children. 
 
 A great surprise awaited Lucy and Philip, and they 
 were just in the state of mind for its full enjoyment. 
 
 A stranger, who had looked in upon Harding s family 
 at the early ineal on the previous day, and who looked 
 in again upon them as they assembled around the break 
 fast-table on this morning, could hardly have believed 
 that his eyes rested on the same individuals. In her 
 usual place was Mrs. Harding, the stranger babe on her 
 arm, and looking so beautiful and happy, that all eyes 
 and hearts were drawn toward it. Little Lotty, from the 
 moment its bright eyes looked into hers, had not once 
 left its side, and now, as she sat close to her mother, she 
 could not eat for pleasure. 
 
 "Has it any name, mother?" asked Andrew, from 
 whom had not proceeded a single ill-natured word or act, 
 since he came down and saw the baby. 
 
 Mrs. Harding did not reply, but looked at her hus 
 band. A name had been floating in her thoughts, but 
 she hesitated about giving it utterance. 
 
 " Dora," said Mr. Harding. " Let us call her Dora." 
 
 Now, that was not the name about which Mrs. Harding 
 had been thinking ; nor was it a name that pleased her 
 ear. It was on her tongue to say, " Oh, no ;" but she 
 kept silent. Her eyes were bent down upon the little 
 one s face, and there she read her duty. For its sake, 
 she refrained from objecting, because she feared that any 
 want of accord with her husband would produce a state 
 of opposition ; and so she said nothing. 
 
 " Shall it be Dora ?" Harding spoke in a pleasant 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes, if you like the name." And Mrs. Harding 
 looked up and smiled as she answered. 
 
34 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Have you thought of one, Mary ?" 
 
 " A name has been in my mind ever since I awoke 
 this morning. But if Dora sounds pleasant to your 
 ears, let her be called Dora." 
 
 "What name did you think of? Perhaps I will like 
 it best," said Harding. 
 
 " Grace." Mrs. Harding spoke the word softly and 
 tenderly. 
 
 " The very name !" said her husband. " It is much 
 better than Dora. Let her be called Grace." 
 
 " Grace ! Grace !" All the children echoed the name ; 
 and the baby, as if conscious of a new importance, tossed 
 its little hands, and smiled. 
 
 So touched was Mrs. Harding by this unexpected ac 
 quiescence of her husband, that tears came into her eyes. 
 For the first time in months, it might be years, Harding 
 had deferred to her wishes but not in consequence of 
 resolute persistence on her part. Had she contended for 
 the name that pleased her best, he would never have 
 seen in it a beauty and fitness above the one he pre 
 ferred himself^ and she would, in the end, have been 
 compelled to yield, or have the babe thrust out from the 
 home into which its presence had already brought so 
 many rays of sunshine. 
 
 And so the babe was named Grace. 
 
 " What will you do, Mary ?" said Harding to his 
 wife, as, after sitting longer than usual at the table, he 
 arose to leave the house. As he spoke, he looked toward 
 the child that still lay in her arms. Mrs. Harding 
 understood, and answered quickly 
 
 " Oh, I shall get on very well. Breakfast wasn t late 
 a minute this morning, and I m sure every thing has 
 gone on pleasantly. No hurry nor confusion. The 
 children never behaved better in their lives." 
 
 And the mother glanced at them approvingly. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 35 
 
 " But you can t attend to an infant, and do all your 
 work into the bargain ?" 
 
 "You see if every thing isn t in order, and dinner 
 smoking on the table when you come home/ answered 
 Mrs. Harding, cheerfully, and with smiles. 
 
 Harding lingered. There was a fascination about 
 little Grace, from the circle of which it seemed as if he 
 could not break. 
 
 " What are we to do with this child, Mary ?" said he, 
 his manner becoming serious. " We have more children 
 now than we can well take care of." 
 
 "Has it brought us trouble or pleasure, so far?" 
 asked Mrs. Harding, looking up earnestly into her hus 
 band s face. He did not answer. 
 
 " Would you like to see it taken to the poor-house ?" 
 
 " No, no. It shall not go there !" Harding spoke 
 quickly and strongly. 
 
 " It is a heaven-sent child, Jacob," said Mrs. Harding, 
 in a low but impressive voice. " I know it from the 
 dream that came to me last night. Let us accept the 
 boon thankfully. He who sent it to us will see that it 
 shall prove not a burden, but a blessing." 
 
 Harding answered not a word, but drew nearer to his 
 wife, and, bending down, laid his finger upon the babe s 
 soft cheek. He would have stooped lower and kissed 
 the cheek, but felt ashamed to betray what seemed to 
 him a weakness. 
 
 When that hard, harsh, passionate man went forth 
 into the world of strife and labour, he carried in his 
 thoughts the beautiful image of a babe. Men with 
 whom he had been used to come in rough contact, saw 
 a change, but divined not the cause. He was less 
 coarse in speech, and rude in action less contentious 
 less overbearing. The consequence was, that men who 
 had always treated him roughly, because he was himself 
 rough, instantly changed their manner, so that fewer 
 
36 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 things than usual occurred to chafe his spirit. Not 
 during all that morning was the image of the babe once 
 wholly obliterated, though many times obscured. 
 
 " What does it all mean ?" said Harding to himself, 
 as he reflected on the change. " Am I the same man 
 that I was yesterday ? What is there in a little helpless 
 babe to cast a spell like this ?" 
 
 But he questioned in vain. He could not understand 
 the mystery. With lighter steps and a lighter heart 
 than usual, he took his way home at dinner-time, look 
 ing for sunshine there. And he did not look in vain, 
 for it lay broader and brighter over his threshold than 
 it had lain for many years. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 37 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THERE was quite a stir in the neighbourhood when 
 the news got abroad that an infant had been found at 
 the door of the Hardings. The gossips had a " world to 
 say" on the subject; and all agreed, that a more unfor 
 tunate selection of a home for the little one could not 
 have been made. 
 
 " It don t matter much as far as that goes," said Mrs. 
 Margaret Willits, the storekeeper s wife, as she chattered 
 over the tea-table with Mrs. Jarvis and Miss Gimp; 
 " for the truth is all among ourselves, remember 
 Harding can t support his own children, let alone other 
 people s. Somebody will have to take the child off their 
 hands, or they ll send it to the poor-house." 
 
 "But he does support his own children," replied 
 Miss Gimp. 
 
 This was ingeniously remarked, in order to draw Mrs. 
 Willits out. 
 
 " I m not so sure of that," said the storekeeper s wife, 
 mysteriously. 
 
 " Who does support them ?" 
 
 Mrs. Jarvis put the question direct. 
 
 " I guess we do our part this among ourselves." 
 
 " Oh, I understand," said Miss Gimp, a light break 
 ing over her countenance. "He doesn t pay up at 
 your store ?" 
 
 "You ve hit it right but it s all among ourselves, 
 remember." 
 
 " Oh, of course,** returned Miss Gimp. And " 
 
 " Of course," said Mrs. Jarvis. "We wouldn t speak 
 of it on any consideration." 
 
38 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 a Don t, if you please ; for they re bad kind of people, 
 and I wouldn t get their ill-will on any account. Mrs. 
 Harding has an awful tongue in her head ; and what is 
 worse, I verily believe she would seek to do nie some 
 harm, if she knew I d said a word against her." 
 
 " Don t be afraid," said both of the ladies at once. 
 
 " And so Harding owes your husband ?" Miss Gimp 
 spoke insinuatingly. 
 
 " Oh, yes. He s been getting things off and on now, 
 for a year. Every little while he comes and pays some 
 thing on account; but manages to let his bill keep get 
 ting larger and larger. Mr. Willits says it must stop 
 soon. He was going to refuse them trust last week; 
 but thought he would wait a while longer. He knows 
 that the moment he stops them off, Harding will be 
 terribly angry, and that he will not only lose the custom 
 of the family, but all the money that is owed to him 
 into the bargain." 
 
 " Rather a hard case," remarked Miss Gimp. 
 
 "Isn t it? And so, as I was saying, it doesn t mat 
 ter much for the child, that it was left at their door. 
 They ll never dream of keeping it." 
 
 " When was the infant abandoned ?" asked Mrs. 
 Jarvis. 
 
 " Three nights ago," replied the storekeeper s wife. 
 
 " Indeed ! I never heard a syllable of it until to 
 day. And the child is still with them ?" 
 
 " For all I know to the contrary," said Mrs. "Willits. 
 
 a They ve been very quiet about the matter, that s 
 certain," remarked Miss Gimp, who was dressmaker 
 and assistant gossip for the neighbourhood. " Three 
 nights ago and not a breath of it to reach my ears 
 until last evening ! It looks mysterious. Why should 
 they be so very still about it? they, of all people in 
 the world ! I shouldn t wonder, now that I think of 
 it, if they knew more about the matter than they care to 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 39 
 
 tell. There s something wrong, depend on t. I m as 
 sure of it as that I am sitting here." 
 
 " Wrong in what way ?" asked Mrs. Jarvis, manifest 
 ing a new interest in the subject. 
 
 Miss Gimp affected a mysterious manner, as if she 
 knew more of what was going on in the neighbourhood 
 than she felt at liberty to tell. 
 
 " Have you any suspicion as to where the child came 
 from ?" inquired Mrs. Willits. 
 
 " I have my own thoughts," said Miss Gimp, with a 
 gravity that so well became her. "But thoughts cannot 
 always be spoken." 
 
 " We are all friends, you know, Miss Gimp." Mrs. 
 Jarvis put on her most insinuating manner. "Old 
 friends, who can trust one another." 
 
 "I d trust you with any thing I knew certain," re 
 plied Miss Gimp. "But it s all guess-work here. Wait 
 a few days. I m bound to sift this matter to the bottom. 
 At present, I ll just give it as my opinion, that the 
 Hardings know a great deal more about the child than 
 they care to tell." 
 
 " You may be right there, Miss Gimp," said Mrs. 
 Willits "else, why have they kept so still about it?" 
 
 " Exactly ! Why have they kept so still about it ?" 
 
 "Did you hear," inquired Mrs. Jarvis, "whether 
 there was a letter in the basket with the child ?" 
 
 Mrs. Willits shook her head. 
 
 " Of course, there must have been," said Miss Gimp. 
 "There always is, in affairs of this kind. Take my 
 word for it, the parentage of that child is no secret to 
 the Hardings. And" her imagination was taking a 
 freer range "I shouldn t at all wonder if the basket 
 contained something more than a baby." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 The two ladies bent closer toward Miss Gimp. 
 
 " Money 1" 
 
40 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "Money?" 
 
 " Yes : a handsome sum of money ; and a letter be 
 sides, promising a regular payment of more every month 
 or quarter, as long as they keep the child. Depend 
 upon it, this is the case ; I m as sure of it as if I had 
 seen into the basket myself." 
 
 " You ve guessed it as certain as fate/ said Mrs. 
 Willits, with animation. "No one would have trusted 
 a little helpless infant in their hands, without some 
 strong hold, like this, upon their selfishness. Well, all 
 I can say is, that, in the first place, they didn t deserve 
 any such good fortune ; and in the second place, who 
 ever selected them as guardians of the child, have made 
 a cruel experiment." 
 
 In this the other ladies fully agreed, Miss Gimp re 
 marking, "It is an ill wind that blows nobody good. 
 Your husband, Mrs. Willits, may now stand some chance 
 of getting his money." 
 
 " Sure enough ! I didn t think of that. It takes you, 
 Miss Gimp, to see all the bearings of a subject." 
 
 Miss Gimp was flattered by this compliment, and 
 drew her head up in a way peculiar to herself when 
 pleased. 
 
 " Has any one seen the child ?" inquired Mrs. Jarvis. 
 " I have not," answered Mrs. Willits ; " nor have I 
 met with any one who has called on Mrs. Harding since 
 it was left at her house. There s neither pleasure nor 
 comfort in visiting her; and so people stay away. I 
 haven t been in her house for three months. The fact 
 is, the last time I called on her, she was in an awful 
 humour about something or other, and as snappish as a 
 turtle. I m sure she boxed the ears of every child she 
 has, three times over, while I was there, and, if the 
 truth must be told, they richly deserved all they got; 
 for a more ill-mannered, quarrelsome brood I never saw. 
 Andrew, their oldest boy, is a perfect little desperado. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 4l 
 
 The way he knocked the other children about was dread 
 ful. I was in fear every moment of seeing some of their 
 limbs broken or eyes put out." 
 
 " Just as it was when I called there last," said Miss 
 Gimp. " I went to fit a dress for Mrs. Harding. The 
 house seemed like a perfect bedlam. The children quar 
 relled all the while, and their mother stormed at them 
 incessantly. I was too glad to get away." 
 
 " Do you expect to go there again very soon ?" asked 
 Mrs. Jarvis. 
 
 " I ought to have gone there a week ago, to take 
 home the cape of her last new dress. She wants it, I 
 know. There isn t more than half an hour s work on it, 
 and I ll do that this very evening." 
 
 " Then you ll see her in the morning," said the store 
 keeper s wife. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Just drop in on your way back, Miss Gimp; that s 
 a good soul. It s such a strange affair, I really feel 
 curious about it. Take a good look at the baby, and see 
 if you can trace a likeness to anybody. And then, be 
 sure to find out if any money came with it, or is pro 
 mised. I want to know about that, of all things." 
 
 "Never fear for me," said Miss Gimp, looking un 
 usually bright. " I ll gather up every crumb of in 
 formation." 
 
 " And you ll call in as you go by ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly." 
 
 " Do, if you please," said Mrs. Jarvis ; " for, as I have 
 an errand out in the morniug, I ll manage to be here 
 at what time ?" 
 
 " Say ten o clock," replied Miss Gimp. 
 
 Little else was talked of by the ladies during the hour 
 they remained together after tea. 
 
 On the next morning, at ten o clock, Mrs. Willits and 
 Mrs. Jarvis sat together, awaiting the arrival of Miss 
 
42 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Gimp, who had looked in upon the storekeeper s wife, as 
 she passed on her way to the Hardings, to say that she 
 would call on her return and make a report. Sooner 
 than they expected the dressmaker, she came in. Her 
 face did not look very animated. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Gimp ! good morning !" said 
 the ladies. 
 
 " Good morning. " 
 
 Miss Gimp tried to look important and well satisfied 
 with herself, but the effort was wholly unsuccessful. 
 
 " Well, Miss Gimp, did you see the baby ?" 
 
 I did." 
 
 There was an ominous gravity in the gossip s tones. 
 
 " Is it a nice-looking baby ?" inquired Mrs. Willits. 
 
 " A very nice-looking baby, indeed. In fact, it s the 
 dearest, sweetest little thing I ever saw." 
 
 " Why, Miss Gimp ! You don t say so ?" 
 
 li It s the truth, every word I tell you." 
 
 " Well, really ! It s a nice baby, then ?" 
 
 " You may believe it. And then, it s so good ! Mrs. 
 Harding says it hasn t cried an hour since it came into 
 the house." 
 
 " You don t tell me !" 
 
 " I can well believe her ; for, while I was there, it did 
 nothing but smile and coo, and try its best to talk to 
 every one who came near the cradle where it lay." 
 
 This information was not half so satisfactory to the 
 two ladies, as the report of its being cross and disagree 
 able would have been. 
 
 " Well, so much for the baby," said Mrs. Jarvis. 
 " And now, Miss Gimp, tell us all you learned about it. 
 Where do you think it came from ?" 
 
 " Haven t the least idea in the world/ replied Miss 
 Gimp. 
 
 " Really !" 
 
 "Keally!" 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 43 
 
 " Could you trace a likeness ?" 
 
 Miss Gimp shook hear head. 
 
 " Doesn t it look like somebody you have seen ?" 
 
 " No one that I can remember; and yet the face is 
 strangely familiar. It seems as if I had met it only 
 yesterday ; but, for my life, I cannot tell, where." 
 
 " What does Mrs. Harding say ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Nothing ?" 
 
 " Or next to nothing. She s very quiet and very re 
 served. Something has come over her and the whole 
 family." 
 
 " Indeed I" Both the ladies spoke at once. 
 
 " In what respect ?" asked Mrs. Willits. 
 
 " I didn t hear a cross word while I was in the house, 
 either from mother or children. The last time I was 
 there, Lotty, the youngest, did nothing but fret, and 
 snarl, and cry. But this morning she sat on the floor, 
 beside the cradle, looking fondly on the baby, or playing 
 with it in the gentlest manner. The fact is, that baby 
 seems to have brought a charm into the house. I could 
 hardly believe I was with the same people." 
 
 " You don t tell us so?" 
 
 "It s the truth, just what I say." 
 
 " Was there any letter or money in the basket ?" in 
 quired Mrs. Willits, whose interest in that aspect of the 
 case was particularly strong. 
 
 "Not that I could find out," answered Miss Gimp. 
 " I felt my way, and hinted, and did every thing except 
 put the question direct; but Mary Harding cither could 
 not or would not understand me. She was always a 
 little close-mouthed, you knew." 
 
 " Why didn t you ask her right up and down ? I 
 would have done so," said Mrs. Willits. 
 
 "It was on my tongue s end more than once; but 
 every time I was about to speak, she seemed to know 
 
44 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 what was in my mind, and made some remark that threw 
 me off." 
 
 " How provoking !" 
 
 " It was provoking," said Miss Gimp, looking particu 
 larly annoyed. 
 
 " What does she intend doing with the little stranger ?" 
 asked Mrs. Jarvis. 
 
 " Keep it," replied Miss Gimp. 
 
 " She s got a house full of her own now more than 
 her husband is able to support/ said Mrs. Willits. 
 " I don t understand the woman." 
 
 " I think I do," returned Miss Gimp, assuming a 
 knowing look. She was good at surmising. " As to 
 there being any disinterested feeling toward the babe, 
 that is not admitted for an instant." 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 Miss Gimp resumed " You may rely upon it, then, 
 as I suggested in the beginning, that she knows all 
 about where the child came from, and is well paid for 
 taking care of it." 
 
 " But how do you account for the singular change in 
 her temper, and, above all, for the change in the temper 
 of her children ?" 
 
 a I ve thought of all that," answered the dressmaker, 
 " and own that I am puzzled. It has occurred to me, 
 that her young savages may have been tamed, as they 
 tame wild beasts, by hunger and stripes. If she has a 
 motive strong enough to make her resolute, Mrs. Harding 
 is not the woman to hesitate about the adoption of any 
 means for the accomplishment of her purposes. It has, 
 no doubt, been made her interest to keep this child, and 
 to keep it right. If this is really so, she will make all 
 bend to her will in the matter." 
 
 And so, after all, the dressmaker had failed to learn 
 any thing about the babe, that was satisfactory either to 
 herself or her friends, Mrs. Wiilits and Mrs. Jarvis. As 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 45 
 
 might be supposed, the report of Miss Gimp excited still 
 more the curiosity of the two ladies, who had urged the 
 visit to Mrs. Harding. They were really troubled, be 
 cause of their inability to penetrate the mystery that sur 
 rounded the affair. Over one bit of information, re 
 served to the last by Miss Gimp, they became excited ; 
 but it left them still in the dark. 
 
 " Harry Wilkins saw the person who left the basket 
 at Harding s door," said the dressmaker. 
 
 What !" 
 
 " I was talking with Harry Wilkins last evening, and 
 he says, that on the night the child was left at Hard- 
 ing s, he went to Beechwood. On the way, he met a 
 woman carrying a basket. She was young, and had 
 something strange-looking about her. It struck him 
 that she was in trouble, for she seemed very irresolute 
 walking on for a time hurriedly ; then stopping as if in 
 doubt; and once or twice turning back toward Beech- 
 wood. His curiosity was excited, and he watched her 
 for some time. On his return, he met her again, but 
 without the basket. He passed very close to her 
 close enough to get a glimpse of her face, which he 
 says looked like the face of one in deep distress/ 
 
 " And she came from Beechwood?" said Mrs. Jarvis, 
 breathing deeply. 
 
 " She came from that direction, Harry says." 
 
 " The child s mother, no doubt. What a wretch she 
 must be ! From Beechwood ? That s something to 
 know. I ve got a cousin living in Beechwood, and I ll 
 go over and see her this very blessed week. I shouldn t 
 wonder if she could trace the whole affair." 
 
 Saying this, Mrs. Jarvis arose, and made a movement 
 to go, at which Miss Gimp remarked that, she must run 
 home also, as she had promised a dress on that very 
 day, and the scissors were not into it yet. Nearly five 
 minutes elapsed before all their parting words were said ; 
 
46 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 then they separated, with mutual promises to sift the 
 matter more closely, and to communicate, one to another, 
 any thing new that might happen to be learned. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A WEEK passed, and, notwithstanding Mrs. Willifcs, 
 in league with Miss Grimp and Mrs. Jarvis, had been all 
 eye and all ear, so to speak, yet they had not been able 
 to learn any thing satisfactory to themselves about the 
 stranger babe. Each of the ladies had, during the time, 
 made a call upon Mrs. Harding, and each came away, 
 more strongly confirmed in her first conclusion, that she 
 knew a great deal more about the child than she had 
 cared to tell. As for the babe itself, there could be but 
 one opinion. Miss Gimp said it was (t lovely $" and 
 when she spoke of an infant so decidedly, you might be 
 sure there was something about it more than common. 
 
 Meantime, singular changes were progressing in the 
 home where the little offcast had found an asylum 
 changes that as much surprised the inmates as those 
 who looked on from a distance. Grace had won all 
 hearts from the beginning; even selfish, rude, ill-na 
 tured Andrew, who had been the pest of the family, 
 stood subdued and gentle in her presence. Before she 
 came, his greatest delight was in annoying and oppress 
 ing the other children ; now his chief pleasure consisted 
 in holding the babe, carrying her about, or playing with 
 her as she lay in the cradle. So attentive was he, that 
 Mrs. Harding scarcely perceived any new demand upon 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 47 
 
 her time, in consequence of so important an addition to 
 her family. Left more to themselves, by the diversion 
 of Andrew s attention, the other children whose almost 
 incessant strife owed its origin mainly to their older 
 brother s interference rarely gave way to a wrangling 
 spirit. When it did occur, a word from their mother 
 subdued their angry feelings. 
 
 Often and often did the hands of Mrs. Harding pause 
 in her work, as she thought intently on this new order 
 of things, and wondered how it was, that a single word 
 could calm the stormy passions of her children, when 
 only a little while before, nothing but a more violent 
 storm on her part could allay the tempest on theirs. 
 How greatly she was herself changed, did not come 
 with clearness into her apprehension changed, we 
 mean, in her external aspects; for, internally, no real 
 change had yet taken place : there was only the beginning 
 of a change. Nor was she aware how different were her 
 words and manner of speaking, when addressing her 
 children, to what they were a little while before. 
 
 One thing the children did not fail to notice. It was 
 this : the marked difference in their mother when Grace 
 was awake and in the sitting-room, and when she was 
 asleep in the adjoining chamber. She was always gentler 
 and more forbearing toward them when the babe was 
 present than when absent. Nor did Mrs. Harding fail 
 to remark, that the children were more gentle and obe 
 dient when Grace was in the room with them than when 
 she was sleeping. 
 
 Quite as remarkable was the change in Mr. Harding. 
 IJe never came in, now, with a heavy, horse-like tread, 
 nor banged the door behind him, as had been his cus 
 tom. Nor did he reprove the children, when in fault, 
 with his former angry violence . Always he went first to 
 look at the babe, as if that were uppermost in his 
 thoughts. And what seemed to please him particularly, 
 
48 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 was the fact, that little Grace began to flutter her tiny 
 hands the moment he appeared, and never seemed better 
 satisfied than when in his arms. Not once, since she 
 came to them, like a gift from heaven, as she was, had 
 he left home in the evening, to spend his time at the 
 tavern. In his favour it may be said, that his associa 
 tions at the tavern had never presented a very strong 
 attraction ; and he had only gone there, because every 
 thing in the home-sphere, owing to the incongruities of 
 temper between him and his wife, was disagreeable and 
 repulsive. 
 
 We have omitted thus far to mention that Jacob 
 Harding was a carpenter by trade. His shop stood at 
 no great distance from the store of Willits the grocer, 
 and not far from the tavern kept by a worthless fellow 
 named Stark, who was doing more harm in the neigh 
 bourhood in a single month than he had ever done good 
 in his life. The absence of Harding from the bar-room 
 of Stark, for so many consecutive evenings, did not fail 
 to excite the tavern-keeper s attention, who, not liking to 
 lose so good a customer, made it his business to call in at 
 the shop of Harding, and in a familiar, hale-fellow, well- 
 met sort of a way, inquire if he had been sick. This 
 was about a week after the appearance of little Grace in 
 the carpenter s family. Harding answered in the nega 
 tive, and with a slight coldness of manner. 
 
 " What s the matter, then ?" said Stark. " Any thing 
 wrong at home ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " We wanted you, particularly, last night. Tom 
 Ellis, from Beechwood, and Jack Fleming, from Avon- 
 dale, were both here. They had a jolly time of it, I can 
 tell you; and if they asked for you once, they did a 
 dozen times. You don t know what you lost. They re 
 coming over again this evening. You must be sure and 
 meet them, for I promised that you would be on hand." 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 49 
 
 " You were a little too fast in that," said Harding, as 
 he tightened the blade in his jack-plane, and then 
 sighted the edge to see if it was at the true cutting 
 distance. 
 
 " Why so ?" asked Stark. 
 
 " Because I shall not be there." 
 
 " And why not, pray ?" 
 
 " Because I m better off, and better contented, at 
 home," was replied. 
 
 " Tied to your wife s apron-string." 
 
 This was said pleasantly, yet with just enough of sar 
 casm to touch the quick feelings of Harding, without 
 giving offence. 
 
 "I never was tied to a woman s apron-string in my 
 life, and never expect to be. Mary Harding knows me 
 far too well to attempt any thing of that kind." 
 
 The tavern-keeper shrugged his shoulders, and arched 
 his coarse eyebrows in a way that said, " I can believe 
 as much of that as I please." 
 
 The quick temper of Harding took fire, and he was 
 about making a sharp retort; but, singularly enough, 
 the image of little Grace came suddenly before the eyes 
 of his mind, and something in her innocent face subdued 
 and tranquillized him. 
 
 "Look here, Harding." Stark spoke in a coarse, 
 rough way. " What s this I hear about somebody s brat 
 being left at your door? Is it so? or only Gimp- 
 gossip ?" 
 
 " A . young babe was left at my door," Harding 
 answered, coldly, and, at the same time, commenced 
 driving his plane over a rough board that lay on his 
 work-bench. 
 
 " You don t tell me so ! Well, what have you done 
 with it ?" 
 
 " Kept it." 
 
 "Kept it! You re joking! I thought you had a 
 
50 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 house full of your own more than you could get bread 
 for without making a slave of yourself." 
 
 Harding felt annoyed, as well at the tavern-keeper s 
 words as his manner, and an angry retort was on his 
 tongue. But he controlled himself, and merely answered, 
 with assumed indifference 
 
 " We haven t found it in the way, so far." 
 
 "Whose is it?" inquired Stark, still in his rude 
 manner. 
 f " Don t know," replied Harding. 
 
 " Why don t you send it to the poor-house ? I d do 
 it in less than no time." 
 
 " When we are tired of keeping it, perhaps we will 
 do so." 
 
 Stark began now to see that his way of speaking to 
 the carpenter was not altogether relished ; and, as it was 
 by no means his interest to offend one of his customers, 
 he changed, somewhat, his manner of addressing him. 
 But he failed altogether in his effort to restore the old 
 state of feeling that had existed between them. 
 
 From the shop of Harding, Stark went to the store of 
 Mr. Willits, where he bought a barrel of sugar and a 
 bag of coffee. He was about the only man in the neigh 
 bourhood whose pocket-book was sufficiently well filled 
 to warrant the purchase of groceries in such liberal 
 quantities. 
 
 " Make out the bill and receipt it," said he, in a self- 
 satisfied voice. 
 
 " I like that," was the pleasant response of the store 
 keeper. " I wish all my customers were as ready to put 
 the cash down. 
 
 " Pay as you go that is my motto," returned Stark. 
 " You ll not find my name on anybody s books." 
 
 " It s the safest kind of a motto, and one that I shall 
 have to suggest to two or three people about here, even 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 51 
 
 should I offend them," said Willits. " Harding, for in 
 stance, between you and me." 
 
 " Jacob Harding ! Why, is he running behind 
 hand ?" 
 
 The storekeeper, before answering, threw open his 
 ledger, and, after glancing rapidly along a column of 
 figures on one of the pages, said 
 
 " Yes ; to the tune of a hundred dollars in six 
 months." 
 
 " Whew ! And he s the man that takes in stray 
 babies? He can afford to be generous at your ex 
 pense." 
 
 " Not any longer. Thank you for that hint. I ll act 
 upon it at once." 
 
 And so he did ; for, at that moment, Andrew Harding 
 entered the store, with a wooden pail in his hand, and 
 said that his mother had sent him for six pounds of flour 
 and two pounds of sugar. 
 
 " Have you brought the money ?" asked Willits. 
 
 " No, sir. Mother says, charge it." 
 
 " Tell your mother that I can t charge any thing 
 more." 
 
 The boy looked bewildered. He did not clearly 
 understand the storekeeper. 
 
 " Tell your mother that she must send the money. 
 I can t trust any more." 
 
 Andrew retired slowly, his mind in considerable per 
 plexity, and bore the message to his mother. 
 
 "That s right," said Stark, approvingly. "It s the 
 only safe way to do business. I rather think Harding 
 will be as mad as a March hare. You may look out for 
 a squall before night." 
 
 "Let it come; I m not at all concerned," replied 
 Willits. 
 
 " I hope," said Stark, growing serious, " that nothing 
 I have said has caused you to take this stand with 
 
52 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Harding. (t We ve always been on good terms ; and I 
 wouldn t say any thing to injure him for the world." 
 
 " Oh, no. My mind was pretty well made up before 
 you came in. That baby business decided me. Mrs. 
 Willits and I were talking it over last night, and we 
 both came to the conclusion that, if he couldn t make 
 both ends meet before, there* was no hope for him now. 
 We did think, at first, that a money inducement caused 
 him to keep the child; but Mrs. Harding assured my 
 wife, yesterday, that not a farthing came with it, nor 
 was promised at any future time. If they are fools 
 enough to take up a burden like this, they mustn t ex 
 pect me to bear it for them." 
 
 " This refusal on your part may do them good," said 
 Stark. " It will, at least, open their eyes to their true 
 position. I rather think the child will find its way into 
 the poor-house before it is a week older." 
 
 " I don t care where it goes, or what becomes of it," 
 answered the storekeeper, "so I get my money." 
 
 Soon after Stark left the shop of Jacob Harding, the 
 latter put on his coat and hat, and went over to the 
 house of a farmer, named Lee, about a quarter of a mile 
 distant. This Lee, a rather thriftless sort of a man, who 
 spent far too large a portion of his time and money at 
 Stark s tavern, owed the carpenter a hundred and fifty 
 dollars for new roofing his house, and doing sundry re 
 pairs to his dilapidated old barn. The account had been 
 standing for some months. On the payment of this 
 money, Harding had intended settling his bill at the 
 grocer s. The manner of Willits, on the day before, 
 when he had called to get half a pound of tea and some 
 corn meal, annoyed him considerably. He saw that the 
 storekeeper was getting uneasy at the size of his account, 
 which, but for the failure to procure a settlement with 
 Lee, would have been long since paid off. He had 
 brooded over this until a sort of desperate feeling took 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 53 
 
 possession of him ; and, in this state of mind, he went 
 over to see the farmer. 
 
 " Can t do any thing for you," said Lee, in the coolest 
 way imaginable, on llarding s asking for a settlement. 
 " Haven t ten dollars in cash to bless myself with, let 
 alone a hundred and fifty." 
 
 Harding felt exceedingly fretted at this- way of treat 
 ing him, and said, quite sharply 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Lee, when do you intend settling my 
 account ?" 
 
 " Some of these days," replied the farmer, indif 
 ferently. 
 
 " That way of doing business don t suit me. I want 
 something definite. I paid the cash down for the 
 shingles that cover your roof; and now I want my 
 money." 
 
 " Don t get excited, Harding : it won t do any good," 
 said Lee. " The man doesn t live about here that can 
 drive this horse ; so you needn t try." 
 
 This was more than the carpenter could bear. Bit 
 terly did he retort upon the farmer, and left him, 
 finally, with threats of an immediate resort to law for 
 the recovery of his bill. 
 
 When Harding and his wife met at dinner-time, each 
 perceived in the other s countenance a troubled aspect. 
 Harding s heavy brows were drawn down; and about his 
 wife s mouth was the old look of fretfuluess that had so 
 often repelled him. For the first time, he passed the 
 cradle without even looking at Grace, whose round, 
 white arms had commenced flying the moment she 
 heard the sound of his footsteps across the threshold; 
 and, going into the yard, he took up the axe, and com 
 menced splitting up a stick of cord wood. This done, 
 he came back into the house, again passing-the cradle, 
 and sitting down, in moody silence, at the dinner-table, 
 on which their meal had already been served. While 
 
 5* 
 
54 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 cutting up the meat, and helping it around, the low, 
 sweet, coaxing murmur of the baby s voice sounded in 
 his ears. The cradle was only a little way from him, 
 and so turned that Grace could see him. And there 
 she lay, fluttering her arms, and cooing, and trying all 
 means in her power to arrest his attention. Yet, reso 
 lutely, he kept his eyes turned away from the imploring 
 little one. But weaker, each moment, became his reso 
 lution ; for her voice came to his ears like the music of 
 David s harp to Saul, driving out the evil spirit. At 
 last he could resist the babe s pleadings no longer. 
 Almost stealthily, he turned his eyes upon her. One 
 look was enough. The tenderness of a mother filled his 
 heart. So sudden was the revulsion of his feelings, that, 
 for a few moments, he was bewildered. But of one 
 thing he was soon clearly conscious, and that was of 
 having Grace in his arms, and hugging her almost pas 
 sionately to his heart. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 55 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE suddenness with which Harding arose from the 
 table and caught up the child, which he had not seemed 
 to notice since he came in, and the eager way in which 
 he held it to his heart, naturally excited the surprise of 
 his wife, who looked at him wonderingly. His indif 
 ference toward Grace had not been unobserved by Mrs. 
 Harding. She saw that he was in one of his unhappy 
 moods that a dark cloud was on his spirit and that 
 only a word was needed to awaken a fierce storm. And, 
 more than all this,, the message brought from the store 
 keeper by Andrew had so deeply angered her, that her 
 mind was still panting under the excitement, and still 
 fretting itself with indignant thoughts; so that she, too, 
 was ready for strife. It had been as much as she could 
 do to keep back from her lips words of sharp reproof, 
 for the cruel indifference manifested by her husband 
 toward the pleading babe : most probably, a few minutes 
 longer of forced neglect on his part, would have brought 
 down upon him a storm of words that would have marred 
 every thing for little Grace, and made her presence, in 
 the household, ever after, a cause of angry contention. 
 Happily, the quick-tempered wife controlled her strug 
 gling impulses long enough for better influences to pre 
 vail. As she looked at the singular exhibition of feeling 
 in her husband, she was touched by softer emotions. 
 The incident gave her a deeper insight into his charac 
 ter, while it quickened her own thoughts into self- 
 reproaches for the misjudgment which had wellnigh 
 fanned a few embers into fiercely burning flames of 
 discord. 
 
56 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 As for Harding, now that the repressed tenderness of 
 his heart had free course, he found himself carried away 
 as by a flood. The babe in his arms felt more precious 
 to him than life itself; and it seemed as if he could 
 never be done hugging it to his heart. When, at 
 length, he reseated himself at the dinner-table, with 
 Grace on his knee, and looked over to his wife, the cloud 
 had passed from her countenance. 
 
 " What possessed you/ she said, smiling, and in a 
 pleasant voice, " to neglect the sweet child so ? She was 
 almost dying to have you notice her." 
 
 Harding did not answer, but merely drew Grace close 
 against him, and, bending over, talked to her in fond, 
 childish language. 
 
 A calm followed this little exciting episode, in which 
 both Mr. and Mrs. Harding looked and felt sober, but 
 not ill-natured. After dinner, as Harding was preparing 
 to leave the house, he took some silver change from his 
 pocket, and handing it to his wife, said 
 
 fl Our bill at the store is getting rather large. Don t 
 send for any thing without the money. Here are two 
 dollars and a half for any little thing you may want." 
 
 The change in his wife s countenance as he said this 
 arrested Harding s attention. 
 
 " What s the matter ?" he asked, abruptly. 
 
 " Nothing much," she replied, her face flushing as she 
 spoke. " Only I m glad you ve left me some money, for 
 we re out of flour, and and" 
 
 " And what ?" She paused, stammering, and Hard 
 ing saw that something was wrong. 
 
 " Nothing, only Willits sent word this morning, that 
 he wouldn t let us have any thing more, unless we paid 
 the money down !" 
 
 " He did !" A fierce light burned instantly in the 
 eye of Jacob Harding, and his lips were drawn back 
 against his teeth. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 57 
 
 "Yes," said his wife, forcing herself to speak in a 
 mild and soothing way ; " but no matter, Jacob. Let us 
 try to get on without asking for credit anywhere. I ll 
 do my best to economize in every thing. It chafes me 
 to be under obligations to anybody, and especially to the 
 \VilHts. I don t like any of the family." 
 
 " That s talking outright, Mary !" said Harding, the 
 threatening scowl on his heavy brow suddenly breaking 
 away; and, as he spoke, he thrust his hand a second 
 time into his trousers pocket, and drew out a handful of 
 small change, which he counted over. 
 
 " Here are three dollars more," he added. " It s all 
 the money I have just now, and may be all I shall receive 
 this week. Make it go as far as you can." 
 
 " You may be sure I will do that, Jacob," replied his 
 wife, kindly and earnestly. 
 
 " Wouldn t trust us any more !" Harding s mind re 
 turned to this hard, unpleasant, mortifying fact. " Very 
 well so let it be. He s had a good deal of my money 
 in his time I hardly think he will get as much in the 
 future. Don t you buy any thing there that you can do 
 without. The next time I go over to Beechwood, I will 
 lay in a good stock of things, if I happen to have the 
 money. I saw Lee to-day, and tried to get him to settle 
 that bill of his; but he put me off again, and is more in 
 different about it than ever. I got out of all patience, 
 and threatened to put the sheriff on him. It will have 
 to come to this sooner or later; and the quicker it is 
 done, the quicker I shall get my money." 
 
 "Couldn t you trade off the account to "Willits, and 
 thus save a world of trouble ?" suggested the wife. 
 
 Mr. Harding caught at this suggestion, and, after 
 turning it over in his mind for a few moments, said 
 
 " I don t know, Mary, but that might be done. Now 
 that I come to think of it, I remember hearing some 
 body say that Willits was about buying that house and 
 
58 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 acre lot where Jones lives. You know it belongs to Mr. 
 Lee. There s no doubt in the world but that he could 
 settle my account in the transaction. I ll see him about 
 it this very afternoon." 
 
 " Do, Jacob/ answered his wife, encouragingly. " It 
 will be such a relief to have this all off our minds." 
 
 In spite of his indignation against Willits, Harding 
 went direct to his store. The latter, on seeing him 
 enter, made up his mind for a sharp passage of words 
 with the fiery tempered carpenter. Still, he managed to 
 receive him with a forced smile. 
 
 " How much have you against me on your books ?" 
 inquired Harding, speaking firmly, and with a sober 
 countenance, yet repressing, as far as possiMe, all ap 
 pearance of anger. 
 
 The storekeeper, affecting a pleasant manner, turned 
 over his ledger, and, glancing at the account, rvhich was 
 already footed up, replied 
 
 " One hundred and fourteen dollars." 
 
 " So much as that ?" Harding showed surprise. 
 
 " I will make you out a bill of items, day *^\id date, 
 and you can examine the account. I presume you will 
 find every charge correct." 
 
 "I expected to have paid this long ago," s**id the 
 carpenter, "but have been disappointed in getting a 
 large bill. To-day I tried my best to collect, b>*t I m 
 afraid there s no chance for me, unless I go to law, and I 
 don t want to do that." 
 
 " Whose account is it ?" inquired "Willits. 
 
 The one I have against Lee for roofing his tause ? 
 and repairing his barn," 
 
 " Is k possible he hasn t paid that yet ?" 
 
 Not a cent of it." 
 
 The storekeeper looked serious for a few moments, 
 then, shaking his head, he remarked 
 
 " That s not right in Lee." 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 59 
 
 11 No, it is not right/ 7 said Harding, warmly. " If he 
 had paid me, I would not now be in debt a single 
 dollar." 
 
 " Have you any objection to transferring your account 
 to me ?" Willits hesitated a little, as if fearful the pro 
 position would not be received with favour. "I have 
 some business transactions with Lee, in which, most 
 probably, I could manage to include your bill." 
 
 " The very thing I thought of proposing to you," said 
 Harding. "I understand you are about buying the 
 property now occupied by Jones ; and it has occurred to 
 me that you might save my account in fhe purchase, 
 thus obliging me and getting a settlement of your own 
 bill at the same time." 
 
 "It can all be done, no doubt," replied the store 
 keeper. " Lee has offered the house and grounds at a 
 fair price, and is anxious for me to buy so anxious, 
 that a proposition to take your claim against him in part 
 payment will be no impediment to the bargain. The 
 best way for you to proceed will be to get his note in 
 settlement. He ll give that readily enough, in order to 
 gain time, and get rid of the annoyance of being dunned. 
 This note you can endorse to me, and I will pay it over 
 to him." 
 
 Perfectly satisfactory to both parties was the proposed 
 arrangement, and the two men separated in much better 
 humour with themselves and each other than when they 
 met. During the afternoon, Harding called again on 
 Mr. Lee, who readily acceded to his request, and gave 
 him his note, at six months, in settlement of the 
 account. 
 
 " Pleasant news, Mary," said the carpenter, as he 
 came home at sundown. " My name is off of Willits 
 books." 
 
 " Off of his books ! How, Jacob ?" Mrs. Harding 
 did not see his meaning clearly. 
 
60 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " I ve settled his account." 
 
 " Have you ? Oh ! I m so glad." 
 
 " And better still, Mary : he owes me thirty-six dol 
 lars, which I have agreed to take out of his store, as we 
 want things in his line." 
 
 " It is pleasant news, indeed, Jacob. But how did all 
 this come to pass ?" 
 
 " Just in the way you suggested. Willits has taken 
 my bill against Lee, and credited me with the difference 
 between that and the account on his books." 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad : it has taken such a load off of 
 me," said Mrs. Harding. "I don t believe Mr. Lee 
 would ever have paid the bill without your suing him ; 
 and I dread lawsuits above every thing : they always 
 bring trouble to both sides." 
 
 Already, Grace was in the great, strong arms of the 
 carpenter; and Lotty, between whom and her father a 
 new and gentler relation had existed ever since the 
 stranger-babe came to them, was leaning on his knee 
 and playing with the happy little one. 
 
 At this moment, a form darkened the door. It was 
 the form of a woman, just past life s middle age. Her 
 countenance was strongly marked the lines as indica 
 tive of patient endurance as great suffering. She was 
 tall in person, with the carriage of one who had moved 
 in polished circles. 
 
 "Can you tell me," said she, as she advanced one 
 foot inside of the door, " how far it is to Beechwood ?" 
 
 "Nearly two miles, ma am," replied Mrs. Harding, 
 who had turned, on perceiving the presence of a 
 stranger. 
 
 " So far away?" said the woman, in apparent concern 
 " I can t possibly reach there before dark." 
 
 " You certainly cannot," replied Mrs. Harding. She 
 then added, "Won t you come in and rest yourself?" 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 61 
 
 " Thank you/ returned the stranger, stepping across 
 the threshold, and advancing a few paces into the room. 
 
 " What a dear, sweet babe 1" she said, as, on taking a 
 chair, she fixed her eyes, with a tender, admiring gaze, 
 upon the babe that still remained in Harding s arms. 
 She could not have offered a remark better calculated to 
 make a favourable impression on the minds of the car 
 penter and his wife. 
 
 "What is her name?" she asked, after a moment s 
 pause. 
 
 " We call her Grace/ replied Mrs. Harding, all her 
 countenance lit up with pleasure. 
 
 " Grace Grace," said the woman, half speaking to 
 herself, in an abstracted way. "A beautiful name," 
 she added; "none more beautiful." And then she 
 bent forward, and gazed at the child with such an 
 earnest, tender expression, that Mrs. Harding, who was 
 observing her intently, felt a troubled consciousness that 
 she knew something of the child, and did not now look 
 upon it for the first time in her life. 
 
 There was about the stranger a bearing that inspired 
 involuntary respect. Her calm, intelligent eyes looked 
 into those of the carpenter and his wife in a way that 
 caused them to feel a singular deference ; and when she 
 referred again to the long distance she had still to go, 
 and spoke, in a troubled voice, of the gathering darkness, 
 Harding said, looking at his wife 
 
 "If the lady will accept what poor accommodations 
 our house will afford, she need not go to Beechwood 
 to-night. What say you, Mary ?" 
 
 " She is welcome to the best we have to give/ was 
 the answer of Mrs. Harding. 
 
 "I did not expect this," said the woman, evidently 
 touched by the proffered hospitality; "nor do I know 
 whether it will be altogether right for me to trespass on 
 
62 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 your kindness. If there is a respectable tavern in the 
 neighbourhood" 
 
 Harding shook his head, as he answered r- 
 
 " There is no tavern about here but Stark s, and I 
 couldn t advise you to go there. If you will remain in 
 our poor home, believe yourself entirely welcome." 
 
 "Let me take your bonnet and shawl," said Mrs. 
 Harding, encouragingly; and she reached out her handa 
 to receive them. 
 
 The woman hesitated only a moment, and then re 
 moving her bonnet and shawl, gave them to her hostess, 
 who took them into the adjoining chamber. As Mrs. 
 Harding returned to the apartment she had just left, she 
 was struck with the singular beauty of the woman s 
 countenance bearing though it did the marks of time- 
 as well as by the depth and brilliancy of her eyes, that 
 were fixed, almost as if by fascination, on the infant 
 which still lay against the bosom of her husband. 
 
 All parties were now, for a time, in a state of embar 
 rassment. Harding felt a little uncomfortable in the 
 presence of the woman, whose eyes, whenever they 
 rested upon him, seemed as if trying to read his very 
 thoughts; and the stranger, conscious of the effect her 
 entrance had produced, did not feel altogether at ease. 
 
 "Let me have that dear babe," said the woman, 
 reaching out her hands toward Grace. 
 
 The little one shrunk closer against the breast of 
 Harding, while a shade, almost of fear, darkened her 
 face. 
 
 " "Won t you come ?" 
 
 The woman spoke in soft and winning tones, and still 
 extended her hands; but the babe could not be lured 
 from its place. 
 
 At this moment, Andrew came in, rudely, dashing 
 his hat upon the floor, and pushing his sister Lucy aside 
 so roughly as almost to throw her down. Lucy gave an 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 63 
 
 angry scream at this violence, and called her brother 
 some vile name. The woman turned, half startled, at 
 this sudden outbreak, and fixed her dark, penetrating 
 eyes on Andrew, who, now first conscious of the pre 
 sence of a stranger, became quiet, and slirunk away into 
 the farther part of the room, the eyes of the woman still 
 following him. 
 
 " Is that the place for your hat, sir ?" 
 
 Anger, as well as mortification, caused Harding to 
 speak roughly to the boy. The woman seemed quite as 
 much startled by the voice of the father as she had been 
 by the rudeness of the son. The look she threw upon 
 him was timid almost fearful; and her eyes passed 
 rapidly from his dark, threatening face, to the calm, 
 sweet, confiding countenance of the infant, who seemed 
 not in the least disturbed by the sudden gust of passion 
 which had come sweeping over the little household. 
 
 Andrew looked sulky and stubborn for a few moments 
 only; then he returned to the place where his hat lay 
 upon the floor, and taking it up, hung it upon a nail. 
 In the next minute he stood beside the baby, who, the 
 instant she saw him, arose from her reclining posi 
 tion, reached out her little hands to him, and almost 
 springing into his arms, gave voice to her pleasure and 
 affection in sounds as well understood as if the utterance 
 had been in words. Andrew bore her in a sort of 
 triumph about the room ; while the stern features of his 
 father gradually relaxed, as his eyes followed the happy 
 babe, until no trace remained therein of the anger which 
 disfigured it a little while before. Lucy, too, forgot her 
 indignation against Andrew, and, moving close beside 
 her brother, clapped her hand at Grace, and talked to 
 her with a voice so full of tenderness, that the stranger 
 looked at her in wonder, hardly crediting the fact that 
 she was the same little girl who, scarcely a moment be 
 fore, had startled her with a shrill cry of anger. 
 
64 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Silent, yet attentively observant of all that passed, 
 did the visitor now remain, until supper was ready, and 
 she was invited to join the family in their evening 
 meal. 
 
 "Do you reside in Beechwood?" inquired Harding, 
 addressing the stranger, soon after they had gathered 
 around the table. 
 
 "No, sir," was her simple answer, somewhat coolly 
 made, as though she wished to repel inquiry. 
 
 " You have friends there ?" said Harding, who, as he 
 observed the stranger more narrowly, felt his curiosity in 
 regard to her increasing. Particularly did her manner 
 of looking at the child excite his attention : to him it 
 seemed as if she made an effort to conceal the interest 
 really felt by her in the little one. 
 
 "Yes, I have friends there," she replied; and then 
 said, almost in the same breath, " How old is your little 
 Grace ?" 
 
 Harding looked at his wife, and she looked at him. 
 Both seemed taken by surprise at the question; and 
 both were slightly confused. 
 
 " How old is it, Mary ?" asked Harding. 
 
 " About nine weeks," replied Mrs. Harding, her face 
 receiving a shade of colour as she spoke. 
 
 The stranger looked at her intently. Mrs. Harding s 
 eyes fell under the steady gaze. 
 
 " A bright child for nine weeks old," remarked the 
 woman. 
 
 Then she seemed to lose herself in thought, and once 
 or twice sighed deeply. After the supper-table was 
 cleared away, and the children were all in bed, her man 
 ner underwent a change. She was now entirely at her 
 ease, and conversed in so attractive a way with the car 
 penter and his wife, that both found themselves strangely 
 drawn toward her, and ready to answer freely in regard 
 to their personal affairs, about which she inquired with 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 65 
 
 an interest they felt to be genuine. About people in the 
 neighbourhood she also asked questions; and when re 
 ference was made to Stark the tavern-keeper, she spoke 
 strongly of the danger of visiting such houses as he 
 kept. 
 
 " It gratified me more than I can express/ she said, 
 looking at Harding, " to find you at home, during the 
 evening, with your family. There is every thing to 
 hope, for a sober, industrious man. Your struggle with 
 the world may be hard for a time, but keep a brave 
 heart. With temperance, industry, and frugality at 
 home, you are sure to rise above your present .position. 
 It is our first meeting, and it may be our last ; but if we 
 ever do meet again, I shall expect to find that Andrew 
 Harding has taken a long stride in the way of pros 
 perity/ 
 
 There was more in her manner than in her words 
 that impressed the mind of the carpenter. But no mat 
 ter in which lay the influence, Harding felt new pur 
 poses growing up in his heart ; and he even said to him 
 self, "If ever we do meet again, it shall be as you 
 predict/ 
 
 At an early hour, Mr. and Mrs. Harding retired, 
 after having shown their guest to the little spare room 
 kept for visitors. 
 
 " I must have one look at that dear babe of yours," 
 she said, as she was about leaving them for the night. 
 
 Mrs. Harding led her into her own chamber, where 
 Grace was sleeping, and drew down the bed-clothes from 
 the face of the infant. The woman bent low over it, 
 and, for a time that seemed long to Mrs. Harding, stood 
 gazing upon the calm face before her, so full of heavenly 
 innocence. There were tears on her lashes, when, with 
 a deep, quivering sigh, she lifted herself from the babe. 
 Placing a hand on the shoulder of Mrs. Harding, and 
 6* 
 
66 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 raising a finger slowly upward, she said, in a tone so 
 solemn, that it thrilled to the heart of her auditor 
 
 " God has committed to your care one of the precious 
 ones whose angels are ever before his face. Oh ! never 
 forget your high responsibility. Love, cherish, keep 
 the dear one." 
 
 The woman s voice faltered. She made an attempt 
 to say more; but, as if conscious that she was betray 
 ing too much feeling, turned away quickly, and re 
 tired to the little chamber that had been assigned 
 to her. 
 
 On the next morning, breakfast was all ready, ere the 
 stranger joined the family. 
 
 " Had you not better call her ?" said Harding to his 
 wife. " 
 
 Mrs. Harding stepped to the door of the guest-cham 
 ber, and tapped lightly. Slie tapped a second time, for 
 there was neither movement nor reply ; yet all remained 
 silent. A louder summons was answered only by its 
 own echo. 
 
 Wondering at this, Mrs. Harding lifted the latch, and 
 pushed open the door. 
 
 " There is no one here, Andrew," she said, in a 
 startled voice. 
 
 " No one, Mary !" 
 
 u Even the bed is not tumbled ! What can it mean ?" 
 
 The carpenter now stood beside his wife, and both 
 entered the room together. There was no evidence 
 whatever that any one had passed the night there. On 
 the little dressing-table was a narrow slip of white paper, 
 which Mrs. Harding caught up. On it was written 
 simply these words 
 
 " Grace Harding. Ten weeks old to-day. June 4th, 
 18." 
 
 "It is very strange I" said the carpenter, with a look 
 of doubt and wonder on his countenance. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 67 
 
 tf Very strange I" echoed his wife, in a troubled 
 voice. 
 
 " Who can she be ?" 
 
 "One/ 1 answered Mrs. Harding, "who knows all 
 about our little Grace. I felt that it was so last 
 night." 
 
 And weak, pale, and trembling, she sunk into, a 
 chair. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE sudden appearance of the woman, her singular 
 conduct, and mysterious departure, were new facts in 
 the strange series of events, that were almost bewilder 
 ing the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Harding. Something in 
 this woman s manner had strongly impressed them both, 
 and now, when they thought of her, it was with a cer 
 tain sense of constraint, as if she were present, and 
 closely observing their actions. That she bore some 
 kind of relationship to the babe was no longer a question 
 in their thoughts; and it was equally clear, that her 
 visit was by no means accidental or purposeless. 
 
 A pressure upon the feelings was a natural conse 
 quence; not so much a troubled pressure, as a certain 
 thoughtful sobriety, favourable to self-control, and pro 
 ductive of wiser counsels in the minds of both the car 
 penter and his quick-tempered wife. Each had need of 
 a preparation like this, for the day was to prove one of 
 more than ordinary trial. 
 
 From some cause, Andrew, their oldest boy, naturally 
 of an exceedingly perverse temper, was ill-natured and 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 quarrelsome beyond his wont, on this particular morn 
 ing. Since rising, he had not ceased to interfere with 
 Lucy and Philip, and this created a strife among 
 the three, which the mother vainly sought to subdue. 
 Not until the father, with a stern threat and a smart 
 blow, commanded the overbearing lad to cease from his 
 annoyance of his brother and sister, was the discord 
 abated. And then the evil in the boy s heart remained 
 strong as ever. Only the fear of instant punishment 
 kept down the spirit of rebellion. 
 
 Soon after his father left for the shop, his mother said 
 to him 
 
 " Andrew, go over to the store, and get me two pounds 
 of sugar and two pounds of rice ; and go quickly, for it s 
 nearly school-time now." 
 
 " Where s the money ?" Andrew spoke very rudely. 
 
 " Never mind the money/ said Mrs. Harding. " Go 
 and do as I tell you." 
 
 " Taint no use. Mr. Willits said yesterday that you 
 needn t send for trust any more." 
 
 " Go, this minute, you little" 
 
 The angry mother caught the profane epithet just 
 leaping from her tongue, and kept it back from utter 
 ance. 
 
 " Taint no use, I tell you," persisted Andrew. "He 
 said" 
 
 " Off with you, this instant !" 
 
 And Mrs. Harding, unable to restrain her indignation, 
 made two or three rapid strides toward the boy, who, 
 seeing from her face that he was in danger, darted 
 from the house, and went away toward the store. After 
 being gone long enough to have done the errand twice, 
 he came loitering back, without the articles for which he 
 had been sent. 
 
 "Where s the sugar and rice?" asked his mother, 
 looking at him sternly, as he came in. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 69 
 
 <( I told you so," was his irritating reply. 
 
 " Told me what ? . said Mrs. Harding. 
 
 "Why, that you needn t send there for trust any 
 more." 
 
 " Have you been to Mr. Willits ?" asked his mother, 
 growing suddenly calm, and speaking very firmly. 
 
 " Yes, ma am, I have," was the unhesitating answer. 
 
 " And you saw Mr. Willits ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma am." 
 
 " And asked him for the sugar and rice ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma am." 
 
 " What did he say ?" 
 
 " He wanted to know where my money was ; and 
 when I said I had none, he told me to go home and tell 
 you that he didn t charge things any more." 
 
 All this was spoken by Andrew with a steady voice 
 and eye, and in a manner that but ill concealed a spirit 
 of triumph. 
 
 For a little while, a tempest of indignant anger raged 
 in the breast of Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " He ll be sorry for that, or I am not a living 
 woman !" she muttered to herself, as soon as a little 
 self-possession was obtained, and thought ran partially 
 clear once more. " Here s the money," she added, 
 aloud, speaking to Andrew, as she drew from her pocket 
 some change ; "go back, as swift as your legs will carry 
 you, and get two pounds of rice and two pounds of 
 sugar." 
 
 The boy took the money, and went loitering indif 
 ferently away j but, ere he had gone ten paces, a switch 
 was laid smartly over his shoulders by his mother, who 
 could no longer control her anger against him. The 
 effect was all she wished to produce. He sprung from 
 her like a frightened young deer, and ran the whole dis 
 tance to the store. In returning, he resumed the old 
 
70 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 pace, and managed to get back at least half an hour 
 after school-time. 
 
 " It s so late, mother, can t I stay at home to-day ?" 
 This was his response to a hurried order to start off im 
 mediately for school. " Mr. Long will keep me in." 
 
 " I don t care if he does. It will serve you right. 
 No ; you can t stay home." 
 
 The lad threw himself down on the door-step, and 
 began to cry. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Harding ! Notwithstanding the influence 
 of recent events, the causes of irritation were too many 
 and too strong for her. Almost since daylight had this 
 perverse boy been making assaults upon her patience. 
 Several times she had lost the self-control she was 
 struggling to maintain, and given way to bursts of 
 passion, and as often had she striven to force back into 
 quietude the disturbed impulses that darkened her 
 spirit. Now, her pent-up anger blazed forth like a 
 fierce flame. Seizing a stout switch, she sprung toward 
 Andrew, and commenced lashing him with all her 
 strength. Her countenance was that of a fury. For a 
 short time, Andrew, who had great powers of endurance, 
 bore the smarting strokes, thinking to tire his mother 
 out; but in this he was mistaken. She was possessed 
 of cruel spirits; and, in the blind passion with which 
 they inspired her, would have struck on, even to the 
 endangering of his life. At last, with a yell of pain, 
 that sounded more like the cry of some animal than a 
 human being, Andrew started up from the door-step, and 
 ran off beyond the reach of his mother s arm. 
 
 "Now, away to school with you, or I ll give you as 
 much more !" cried Mrs. Harding, as she advanced reso 
 lutely toward the place where Andrew paused on getting 
 out of her way. 
 
 Finding that contention with his mother, under pre 
 sent circumstances, was rather too serious a business, 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 71 
 
 Andrew yielded to forces he was not able to resist, and 
 started off to school, conquered, but not subdued in 
 spirit. The fire of his mother s anger had hardened in 
 stead of softening him. Rebellion grew rank in his 
 young breast, as he moved on his way ; and no sooner 
 was he out of sight, than he sat down on the roadside to 
 deliberate on tlje question of going to school or playing 
 the truant. 
 
 It was some time after Mrs. Harding returned into the 
 house, before she was sufficiently calm to reflect at all. 
 The storm, though brief, had raged fiercely, and sad 
 were the wrecks it left behind wrecks of peace and good 
 resolutions. Never in her life had she suffered such in 
 tense mental pain as now never experienced a state of 
 mind so sad and self-condemnatory. New and better 
 states had been forming, and they had brought her 
 within the sphere of higher and holier influences. It 
 was violence to these that occasioned such anguish of 
 spirit. Good, having gained a place in her heart, might 
 be overshadowed, but not cast out. When the storm 
 raged, it could retire and hide itself far down in the 
 calmer depths of her spirit, to come into perception 
 again when the tempest abated. And thus it was now. 
 The good was hidden, not extinguished, and its low 
 voice was heard as soon as the wild shrieking of the 
 storm was silent. It was not strong enough to contend 
 with evil when evil had full sway; but, like the sun 
 shine and the gentle dews, it possessed a restoring and 
 creating power; and, like them, in the peaceful days 
 and quiet nights, it went on with its heavenly work of 
 rest )ration and recreation. 
 
 What a deep calm reigned in the household, as Mrs. 
 Harding came back among her younger children, who 
 received her with frightened looks, and went shrinking 
 away into distant corners a calmness which, by its con 
 trast, only made more apparent the wild, half-insane ex- 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 citement from which every nerve of her spirit was still 
 palpitating. The revulsion in Mrs. Harding s mind was 
 great. The first rebuking image that arose in her 
 thoughts was that of the stranger, whose coming and de 
 parture were almost like the changes in a dream. So 
 vivid was this impression, that she almost expected to 
 see the woman enter, and fix upon her those deep, sad 
 eyes, whose expression she could never forget. 
 
 An unwonted sound came now upon her ears. It 
 arose from the cradle. The eyes of Mrs. Harding 
 sought instantly the child. Sweet one ! There was a 
 look of fear on her baby face grievingly her lip was 
 curled a low murmur of pain was audible. 
 
 Tenderly, very tenderly, was the infant lifted from its 
 cradle-bed ; and lovingly was it pressed to the bosom of 
 Mrs. Harding. Soothing words in soothing tones were 
 poured into its ears from lips that touched them softly. 
 
 As Mrs. Harding sat with the babe held close against 
 her heart, all the exciting incidents of the previous half 
 hour passed before her mind in rapid review. The con 
 duct of Andrew had been very bad, and he needed cor 
 rection ; but she could not justify her own action in the 
 case, nor quiet the voice of self-reproach. She saw that 
 the evil in her only excited the evil in him that angry 
 words hardened him into stubborn resistance. She felt 
 sad, too, as she thought of the cruel stripes she had 
 given him stripes laid on with the full strength of her 
 strong arm. In angry resentment, not sorrowing love, 
 had she grasped the rod, and its strokes. excited only a 
 spirit of rebellion. Oh ! how unhappy she felt un 
 happy even to weeping. Her indignation against the 
 storekeeper was but a feeble flame now. She felt too 
 deeply humiliated in consequence of her own misdeeds 
 to cherish anger against others. 
 
 In this state of mind the morning passed. At twelve 
 o clock, Andrew came in from school, gliding through 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 73 
 
 the door silently, and with an evident desire to avoid 
 notice. Mrs. Harding said nothing. She was glad to 
 Bee him subdued in spirit, and felt more of pity toward 
 the boy than anger. Her husband soon followedj as it 
 was dinner-time. His brow was clouded. Something 
 had gone wrong with him during the forenoon. Silently 
 and moodily he sat at the table, eating hurriedly, and 
 taking no notice of any one. In a shorter time than 
 usual, he finished the meal, and, rising, was about 
 leaving the house, when Mrs. Harding said 
 
 " Didn t you tell me to send to the store for any thing 
 I might want ?" 
 
 " Certainly I did. Why ?" 
 
 " Because Willits refused to let me have some sugar 
 and rice, this morning, without the money." 
 
 " Oh no ! He couldn t have done that. There are 
 thirty-six dollars to my account on his books, as I told 
 you." 
 
 " Well, he did, then ; and I had to send the money 
 before I could get what I wanted." 
 
 Harding waited to hear no more. "I ll soon settle 
 that !" he exclaimed, as he went hurriedly from the 
 house. A rapid walk of a few minutes brought him to 
 the store of Willits, into which he strode with a heavy, 
 resolute tread. 
 
 " What do you mean," was his angry interrogation, 
 " by sending such messages to my wife ?" And, as he 
 spoke, he confronted the storekeeper with a threatening 
 scowl. 
 
 The latter was startled, as well he might be, for Hard 
 ing was in a fierce mood of mind, and stood before him 
 with his hand clenched, and meditated violence in his 
 look and manner. 
 
 " Say ! What do you mean ?" repeated Harding. 
 
 " I sent no insulting message to your wife," said the 
 storekeeper. 
 
74 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "It s false ! "ou did I" exclaimed Harding. 
 
 " And I say that I did not/ retorted Willits, whose 
 reddening face showed his rising anger. 
 
 " Why didn t you send her the sugar and rice this 
 morning ?" said Harding. 
 
 " I did send it," replied the storekeeper. 
 
 " Not until she furnished the money." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, neighbour Harding. Andrew 
 came for two pounds of sugar and two pounds of rice, 
 which I have charged in your account." 
 
 " Didn t you refuse to let him have them without the 
 money ?" 
 
 "No, sir, I did not. Haven t you a balance on my 
 books in your favour ? Here are the articles charged." 
 
 And Willits opened his day-book and pointed to the 
 recent entry. 
 
 "I don t understand this," said Harding, looking 
 bewildered. 
 
 " There s some mistake. Who told you that I refused 
 to send these articles without the money ?" 
 
 " I must see further into this. Can t comprehend it." 
 
 And as the carpenter said this, he turned away 
 abruptly, and went back home. 
 
 " Mary," said he, " didn t you tell me that Willits 
 refused to let you have the rice and sugar to-day without 
 the money ?" 
 
 "Yes, I did; and I had to send the money before I 
 could get them." 
 
 "He denies it, and has the sugar and rice both 
 charged to me." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "He says that he didn t refuse to let you have the 
 articles without the money." 
 
 "Andrew!" 
 
 Mrs. Harding called to her oldest boy, in a quick, 
 
THE ANGEL OF TIIE HOUSEHOLD. 75 
 
 peremptory voice, turning around as she spoke; but 
 tiiere was no answer. 
 
 " Andrew I" she called again. 
 
 " He s gone to school, mother," said Lucy. 
 
 It isn t school-time yet." 
 
 " But he s gone. I saw him put on his hat, and go 
 out through the back gate a little while after father went 
 away." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Harding looked at each other for a few 
 moments in a kind of blank amazement. To both came 
 a dim foreshadowing of the truth. 
 
 " Did Andrew bring you that message ?" said Hard 
 ing, in a stern voice. 
 
 " He did ; and then I gave him the money to get the 
 things I wanted." 
 
 " And he went back with it to the store ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 That will do." 
 
 How the heavy brow of the carpenter contracted ! 
 There was something savage in his face. 
 
 "He ll remember this while he has breath in his 
 body," he said fiercely, as he left the house. % 
 
 On his way to his shop, he called in again at the store 
 of Willits, and, by a few questions, satisfied all lingering 
 doubts as to the guilt of Andrew. 
 
 As soon as two o clock came, he went to the school- 
 house and asked for his son. 
 
 " He hasn t been here to-day," was the teacher s reply 
 to his question. 
 
 " Are you certain of that, Mr. Long ?" 
 
 Harding was not prepared for this. 
 
 " Altogether certain," answered the schoolmaster. 
 " Was Andrew here this morning ?" He now addressed 
 the scholars. 
 
 " No, sir" " no, sir" " no, sir" ran all around the 
 room. 
 
76 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "Have any of the boys seen him?" inquired Mr. 
 Long. 
 
 "I saw him," spoke up one of the scholars, "as I 
 came to school just now." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Sitting on the fence over by Miller s woods." 
 
 "Did you speak to him ?" inquired the schoolmaster. 
 
 " Yes, sir. I asked him what he was doing ; and he 
 said, Nothing/ Then I asked him if he wasn t going 
 to school ; and he said, l Maybe so after a while. As 
 I walked along, I saw him going over into Miller s 
 woods." 
 
 " That will do," said the schoolmaster. And then he 
 directed two of the older boys to go over to Miller s 
 woods, and if they saw Andrew, to bring him to school. 
 
 Harding went back to his shop in a state of profound 
 agitation. A new cause of anger against the boy was 
 added namely, the disgrace to himself of standing be 
 fore the assembled village children as the father of a boy 
 who had meanly pla} r ed the truant. 
 
 During the afternoon, every thing seemed to go wrong 
 with the oftrpenter. A man for whom he had done some 
 work disappointed him in regard to the payment ; while 
 another, for whom work had been promised at a certain 
 time, rated him soundly for not being up to the letter of 
 his contract. Moreover, Stark the tavern-keeper called 
 in and abused him for having said, as reported to him, 
 that he was doing more harm to the neighbourhood than 
 a gang of thieves. Maddened by this assault, coming, 
 as it did, upon his unbalanced state of mind, Harding 
 threw a mallet at his head, which, happily, glancing by, 
 went smashing through a window. The frightened 
 tavern-keeper beat a hasty retreat. 
 
 Toward evening, the teacher called in to say, that the 
 boys sent for Andrew had found him, and that he re 
 fused to return with them to school. This was the last 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 77 
 
 crushing pound laid on the carpenter s panting self- 
 control. The savage imprecation that fell from his lips, 
 startled the teacher, who turned off from him instantly, 
 and went on his way, oppressed by a feeling of troubled 
 concern. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHEN Jacob Harding came home from his shop a 
 little after sundown, he was blind with passion. The 
 more he had thought of Andrew s conduct, the stronger 
 had grown his indignation against him ; and he was now 
 prepared to mete out to him a degree of punishment 
 cruel in the extreme. Grief for the evil he had done 
 was not so prominent a feeling with Harding, as anger at 
 the boy for having dared to venture upon the commission 
 of such flagrant outrages. " Liar ! thief ! truant !" Such 
 were the bitter words that came, every few moments, 
 through the excited father s shut teeth, as he strode 
 homeward. " That a boy of mine should be guilty of 
 such things \" he repeated over and over again. " A boy 
 of mine to disgrace me in this way I" 
 
 And he would stretch forth his arms, with his large 
 hands gripped so tightly, that the nails almost pene 
 trated the callous skin, clutching, in imagination, the 
 guilty chilji. 
 
 " Where s Andrew ?" he asked, almost fiercely, as ho 
 entered the house. 
 
 Mrs. Harding lifted to his her troubled face, and 
 answered, in a sad voice there was no trace of anger 
 about her 
 
 7* 
 
78 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD 
 
 " I haven t seen him since dinner-time." 
 
 "Not home yet ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Harding passed through the house into the yard, 
 where he cut from a tree a stout, tough rod far too 
 stout and strong for his vigorous arm to wield in the 
 chastisement of a tender child and returning with it, 
 laid it in full sight of the younger children, on a table. 
 
 (t A liar, a thief, and a truant !" he exclaimed, in a 
 voice of angry excitement. " It will be the sorriest day 
 of his life ! I just want to get my hands on him !" 
 
 Mrs. Harding answered nothing. She too had felfe 
 strong anger toward the boy ; but as the day wore on, 
 and imagination pictured him writhing in the cruel 
 hands of his passionate father, anger changed to yearning 
 pity. Not that she felt like excusing him, or even pal 
 liating his crime and disobedience; but in her heart 
 revived the mother s tenderness, and this made her per 
 ceive, clearly, that in a blind indignation against the 
 boy, his father would destroy the salutary effects of 
 punishment, through an excessive administration. 
 
 Slowly crept on the dusky twilight, and thicker and 
 thicker fell the evening shadows, closing in nearer and 
 nearer to the carpenter s dwelling, so that the disturbed 
 inmates, constantly on the watch for Andrew, found 
 their circle of vision growing momently narrower. 
 
 And now, sharp flashes of lightning began to stream 
 forth from a heavy bank of cloud that lay piled up in the 
 west, and the freshening winds rustled the leaves in the 
 old elms that stood around the humble cottage. 
 
 " There s a gust rising !" said Mrs. Harding, in a 
 troubled voice, going to the door and gazing anxiously 
 around. l< Where is that unhappy boy ? j; 
 
 " Skulking in some of the neighbours houses," gruffly 
 replied the husband. " But he might as well come home 
 first as last He can t escape me." 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 79 
 
 Mrs. Harding sighed, and was about retiring from the 
 door, when a heavy peal of distant thunder jarred on 
 the air. 
 
 " Oh ! I wish he was home I" she said ; " we re going 
 to have a terrible storm." 
 
 The thick bank of clouds had now covered so large a 
 space in the west, that all the sun s retiring beams were 
 hidden, and darkness was closing around her heavy 
 curtains. 
 
 " The storm will bring him home/ was all the reply 
 made by the father. 
 
 " I wish, Jacob," said Mrs. Harding, after waiting for 
 nearly half an hour longer, during which time the heavy 
 concussive thunder sounded nearer and nearer, " that 
 you would step over to Mrs. Aaron s, and see if Andrew 
 is not there. He goes with John Aaron a good deal, 
 and it may be that he is loitering with him now, afraid 
 to come home." 
 
 Harding made no answer, but took up his hat and 
 went out. The dwelling of Mrs. Aaron was distant 
 nearly an eighth of a mile, and thither the carpenter 
 directed his steps, walking rapidly. It had become very 
 dark before he reached there the darkness invaded, 
 every few moments, by brilliant streams of light from 
 the cloudy west. 
 
 " Have you seen any thing of my Andrew?" inquired 
 Harding, on reaching the neighbour s house. 
 
 " I have not," replied Mrs. Aaron, as she stood with 
 the door held partly open. 
 
 "Is your John at home ?" was next asked. 
 
 "My John? Oh yes, indeed! He s never away 
 after dark." 
 
 John came to the side of his mother. 
 
 " Have you seen my Andrew to-day ?" Harding 
 spoke to the boy. 
 
80 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "No, sir; I have not. He wasn t at school either in 
 the morning or afternoon." 
 
 "Are you certain about not having seen him to-day?" 
 
 " Oh yes, sir. He hasn t been anywhere around 
 here." 
 
 " Where can he be ?" said Mrs. Aaron, now manifest 
 ing a woman s concern. 
 
 "Dear knows!" answered the carpenter, with some 
 impatience of manner. " I only wish I had my hands 
 on him." 
 
 " How long has he been away ?" asked Mrs. Aaron. 
 
 tf Ever since dinner-time," was replied. 
 
 " Maybe he is over at Mr. Lawson s," spoke up John, 
 " Neither Henry nor Peter Lawson were at school this 
 afternoon. I shouldn t wonder if they d all gone a fish 
 ing in Baxter s mill-dam." 
 
 " I m obliged to you !" was almost roughly said by 
 Harding, as he turned off abruptly, and strode away in 
 the direction of Lawson s farm-house, which was at least 
 a quarter of a mile from his own dwelling. 
 
 The darkness was now so deep, that he could see only 
 a few steps before him, save when the broad-sheeted 
 lightning threw its mantle of flame over the earth for an 
 instant, and then left the night blacker than before. 
 The flashes came in quick succession, and by their aid 
 he walked on as steadily as if day had been abroad. At 
 Lawson s he gained some intelligence of his truant boy. 
 Andrew had been with Henry and Peter fishing, as was 
 suggested by young Aaron, and had stayed there to sup 
 per. But it was more than half an hour since he started 
 for home. 
 
 " You ll find him safe and sound when you get 
 back," said Mr. Lawson; " so you needn t give yourself 
 any more uneasiness about him. I didn t notice that he 
 was staying so late, or I would have sent him away 
 earlier. I told the boys to go with him a part of the 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 81 
 
 wa/, but he said he wasn t at all afraid, and went off by 
 himself." 
 
 It did not take Harding long to retrace his steps 
 homeward. Not in the least was his anger against the 
 child abated, nor had he changed, in the smallest de 
 gree, his cruel purposes regarding him. He had often 
 punished him severely ; but the severity now meditated 
 was something far beyond any prior infliction. 
 
 He was only a short distance from his dwelling, when 
 a lightning gleam, that made the air light as noonday, 
 showed him the form of Andrew crouching down against 
 a large tree that stood a little off from the road. He 
 saw it but for an instant : for, in the next moment, the 
 blackness of darkness was around him. 
 
 ft Andrew I" he called, sternly. 
 
 Ere his voice died on the air, another flash quivered 
 along the ground ; but when the lad s form had just 
 been seen, no object was visible. Mr. Harding stood 
 still, and awaited, in silence, the next recurring flash. 
 It came, but Andrew was not in view. 
 
 " Andrew !" he cried again. " Andrew ! why don t 
 you answer me ?" 
 
 The echo of his own voice was all the reply that came. 
 He now advanced to the tree, felt about it in the dark 
 ness, and searched all around with his eyes, as flash 
 after flash lit up the scene. But the form of Andrew 
 was not again descried. He called, threatened, and 
 called, again and again. He searched around for a con 
 siderable distance, but to no purpose. Concluding that 
 the boy had gone home, he kept on his way, and soon 
 arrived at his dwelling. 
 
 " Is he here yet ?" was his sharp interrogation, as ho 
 stepped over the threshold. 
 
 "Haven t you found him ?" asked Mrs. Harding, 
 with a blanching face. 
 
 "He was over at Lawson s until dark, and thea 
 
82 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 started for home. I m very sure I saw him up at the 
 turn in the road, sitting by the foot of an old beech-tree. 
 A flash of lightning made it as clear as day ; but, when 
 the next flash came, he was not there. I called, and 
 called, but he wouldn t answer me. He ll come creeping 
 in here before long. The rain will soon be pouring in 
 torrents, and he ll never stand that." 
 
 " Jacob I" said the mother, in a tone of distress, 
 "I m afraid something has happened to him/ 
 
 " Never fear. He s too bad for any thing to happen 
 to him," was the harsh response. 
 
 " Don t talk so, Jacob. It s a fearful night. There ! 
 Oh, what a sharp flash ! Go out and call to him. 
 Maybe he is close by, and afraid to come in. Tell him 
 not to be afraid that you won t punish him. Do, 
 Jacob !" 
 
 " I will punish him, though ! and I ll not lie about 
 it," firmly answered Harding. " The moment I get my 
 hands on him, I ll flog him within an inch of his life, 
 the desperate little vagabond ! A pretty race he has run 
 me, after all his ill-doing as if that wasn t enough." 
 
 " What a crash I" exclaimed poor Mrs. Harding, her 
 face blanching still whiter. " Hark ! is that wind or 
 rain ?" 
 
 " Both," replied her husband, coolly. " He ll not be 
 away long now." 
 
 But the unyielding father erred in his prediction. 
 The storm came down with fearful violence, howling 
 among the tall elms, crashing its thunder through the 
 air, and pouring out a deluge of rain ; yet the boy ven 
 tured not to the door of his father s house, where a more 
 dreaded evil awaited him. He could bear the elemental 
 wrath, wild and fierce though it was, as something less 
 to be feared than the cruel anger of his justly incensed 
 father. 
 
 Nine, ten, eleven o clock came ; still the fearful tern- 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 83 
 
 pest roared without still the harsh thunder boomed 
 along the sky, or came sharply rattling down, and still 
 nothing was seen or heard of Andrew. Almost sick 
 with anxiety and alarm, Mrs. Harding, who had moved 
 about the rooms incessantly now listening at the door 
 or window, now gazing into the darkness, and now call 
 ing the name of the boy at length sunk down into a 
 kind of hopeless state. That something terrible had 
 happened to Andrew, she felt certain ; for she was ^ sure 
 he would not remain out in storm and darkness, if he 
 could make his way home. If softened at all toward 
 his erring son, Harding did not manifest the change. 
 He had walked the floor restlessly for a greater part 
 of the evening, every now and then opening the door to 
 look out, and calling sternly the name of Andrew, who 
 was, he persisted in affirming, skulking somewhere near 
 at hand. It was all in vain that the lad s mother strove 
 to turn aside the harsh anger of his father. 
 
 "Ill not let him go to swift destruction, Mary," he 
 would answer, with knitted brows. "I ll not be a 
 foolish father, and spare the rod. Come when he will, 
 he has got to feel the weight of this arm. It is all well 
 enough for you to pity him ; but I have a stern duty to 
 perform, and mean to execute it fully." 
 
 "Try and not feel so angry against him, Jacob," 
 pleaded the mother, laying her hand on his arm. " We 
 know not where he is, nor how dreadfully he may be 
 suffering. What if he should be dead ! The lightning 
 has struck very near, several times." 
 
 " I would rather see him dead now, than swinging on 
 the gallows twenty years hence," said Harding, as he 
 drew himself away from his tearful wife. "If he is 
 dead, he will be safe from the evil to come ; but if alive, 
 it shall be my business to check the course of evil." 
 
 It was between eleven and twelve o clock, when Mrs. 
 Harding went from the family sitting-room into the 
 
84 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 adjoining chamber, leaving her husband pacing the floor, 
 and nursing his anger against the absent boy. The 
 height of the storm had passed. At more distant inter 
 vals, the feebler flashes came, and the far-off thunder 
 had a muffled roll. The winds were fast dying away, 
 and no longer swept through the air, in howling gust, or 
 bore the fast descending rain in fitful torrents against 
 the windows. Every moment the rushing sound without 
 grew less ; and by the time Mrs. Harding returned from 
 the chamber scarce three minutes had elapsed since she 
 left her husband a deep stillness had succeeded the 
 tempest s wail. She came in with so changed a counte 
 nance, that her husband could not help exclaiming 
 " Why, Mary ! what is it V 
 
 11 Jacob !" There was a depth of emotion in the 
 voice of Mrs. Harding, as she grasped with both hands 
 her husband s arm, and lifted to his face her moistened 
 eyes, that surprised and subdued him. " Jacob," she 
 repeated, gently drawing him toward the chamber-door, 
 " I want to show you something." 
 Harding followed, passively. 
 
 " Look there, Jacob V And she pointed to the low 
 bed on which Grace was laid every night beside Lotty, 
 and where she usually slept soundly until Mrs. Harding 
 retired. 
 
 Harding started at what he saw, with a quick ejacula 
 tion; but his wife clung to his arm, saying, in a half 
 whisper 
 
 " Hush, Jacob ! don t wake them now don t !" 
 The pause was fatal to his stern purpose. The face 
 of Andrew was before him, pale and shrunken with 
 suffering; and close beside, almost touching it, on the 
 same pillow, was the calm, sweet, heavenly face of the 
 babe. The boy had crept in through the window, in 
 the height of the storm, and, after putting off his wet 
 clothes, laid himself down beside little Grace, evidently 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 85 
 
 with the hope that her dove-like innocence would soften 
 the fierce indignation of his father against him, and 
 there had fallen asleep. His hair was wet ; and tear- 
 stains marked his cheeks. 
 
 "Poor boy I" almost sobbed Mrs. Harding. She was 
 overcome with tenderness. As she breathed the words, 
 a deep sigh parted the lips of the sleeping child, and, at 
 the same moment, Grace, moving in her sleep, drew her 
 little arm across his neck, and laid her warm, bright 
 cheek to his. 
 
 It would have required a harder, sterner heart than 
 Jacob Harding s hard and stern as that was to with 
 stand the softening influence of a scene like this, coming 
 as it did after long hours of intense excitement, and in 
 the solemn hush succeeding a fearful tempest. A little 
 while he stood as if spell-bound, and then turning sud 
 denly away, left the chamber. When his wife followed 
 him into the next room, she found him sitting in a 
 chair, with his head bowed upon his bosom. She came 
 up to where he sat, and leaning against him, laid her 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Jacob," she said, softly. It was the old, old voice 
 that now entered his ears the voice that had sounded 
 sweetest of all in the days when young love filled his 
 mind with dreams of an Elysian future. He neither 
 moved nor spoke \ but his heart was melting. 
 
 "Jacob husband dear husband !" How many 
 years had passed desolate, dreary years to both their 
 suffering spirits since Mrs. Harding had spoken to her 
 husband so tenderly, and in words like these ! 
 
 " Say on, Mary !" And as the words passed his lips, 
 he leaned toward her. How naturally glided her arm 
 from his shoulder to his neck, as her heart leaped with a 
 delicious impulse ! The old, old voice, once so full of 
 music, was ringing in her ears again. It was the voice 
 
86 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 of her young lover that in which he had wooed and 
 won her in the days of innocent, confiding girlhood. 
 
 " Say on, Mary," he repeated. How gently, almost 
 humbly, he spoke ! There was not a trace of bitterness 
 or passion in his tones. 
 
 " Think of what the poor boy has suffered to-night, 
 Jacob. A tender child, only eight years old, exposed to 
 such a fearful storm ! Think of him as suffering and 
 repentant, Jacob not as stubbornly bent on continuing 
 in wrong. He looks so pale and frightened, even in his 
 sleep, that the sight of him makes my heart ache." 
 
 " And think, too, Mary," answered Harding, " of his 
 great offence. Will it be right to let him go un 
 punished ?" 
 
 " Why should he be punished ?" asked Mrs. Harding. 
 
 "For his own good. He must be taught that evil 
 deeds bring inevitable pain." 
 
 "And have they not brought pain to-night?" said 
 Mrs. Harding. " Think, Jacob, whether, for any wrong, 
 you would have doomed him to the anguish and fear he 
 must have suffered to-night? I am sure you would 
 not." 
 
 " Mary ! I dare not let him escape my severe dis 
 pleasure," replied Harding, his voice taking a troubled 
 tone. " For him to go on in this way, is certain ruin." 
 
 " It is for us to save him from evil, if in our power, 
 Jacob. But how shall we save him. Severity, I fear, 
 will not do it. He has been scolded, and driven, and 
 whipped, until I sometimes think he is hardened. A 
 number of times I have noticed of late, that when I 
 speak mildly to him, he obeys more readily than when I 
 am out of patience. If I order him to do any thing in 
 an angry or imperative voice, he moves off sulkily, and, 
 unless I follow him up, is certain to disobey me. But 
 if I say, < Andrew, go and do so and so, that s a good 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 87 
 
 boy/ he springs away and does the errand in the 
 shortest time, and with evident pleasure." 
 
 "I wish to do right, Mary/ said Harding, in an 
 irresolute voice. 
 
 " No one knows that better than I do, Jacob/ 
 answered Mrs. Harding. t( But what is right ? Ah ! 
 that is the question. How ignorant and erring we are ! 
 We have tried hard and harsh means with our children 
 from the beginning, and they do not seein to grow better. 
 Let us try some gentler methods." 
 
 " But what are we to do with Andrew ? Let the past 
 go unpunished ?" 
 
 " Unpunished, at least by the rod, Jacob. He ex 
 pects that, and is, in some degree, prepared for it.. If 
 we deal more gently by him, and let him understand 
 that we are grieved rather than angry at his conduct 
 that our punishment, whatever it may be, is given in 
 love, not indignation he may repent far more deeply 
 of his evil deeds, than if stubborn anger be aroused 
 through painful chastisement. Hush .!" 
 
 Mrs. Harding raised herself up and listened, as a 
 voice came from the room they had left a little while be 
 fore. It was Andrew s voice. " father I" they heard 
 him say distinctly, and in a tone of fear. 
 
 Both arose quickly, and went into the chamber where 
 he was lying. 
 
 "Don t cut me so hard, father! don t; oh, don t. 7 
 His tones were full of agony. 
 
 " I m so wet and frightened !" he murmured, a little 
 while afterward. " Won t the lightning strike me ? Oh 
 dear ! oh dear ! If father wouldn t cut me so hard !" 
 
 The heart-full mother could not keep the tears from 
 raining over her face; and even Jacob Harding felt a 
 woman s weakness stealing through his breast. He was 
 about moving away from the bed where his children. 
 
88 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 slept, when Andrew started up, wide awake almost as 
 soon as his eyes were opened. 
 
 " father !" he exclaimed, the moment his bewildered 
 mind was able to comprehend his f rue position " don t 
 whip me please don t ! I ve been very bad ; but if 
 you don t whip me, I ll try and not be bad any more." 
 
 And he stretched forth his hands imploringly, while 
 his colourless face had such a look of fear and sorrow, 
 that the heart untouched by its expression must have 
 been of adamant. 
 
 "You have been very wicked, Andrew," said his 
 mother, in a low, serious, grieving voice ; " and I do not 
 see how your father can help punishing you." 
 
 " mother ! mother !" cried the child, bursting into 
 tears, and bending over toward her she had stooped 
 down by the bedside " I know I have been wicked, and 
 I m so sorry. I don t know why I did it. It seemed as 
 if I couldn t help it. mother ! how dreadful it was 
 out in the woods, with the thunder and lightning all 
 around me ! I was so frightened ! But I was afraid to 
 come in. I saw the candle in the window, and heard 
 you and father call me; but I didn t dare to answer. 
 Once, when the lightning made all as bright as day, I 
 thought I saw Grace just a little way before me on the 
 ground. I ran right up to the spot, but she wasn t 
 there ! Then I thought I d get into the window, and lie 
 down on the bed, just here, alongside of her. Maybe, 
 I said to myself, father, who loves little Grace so much, 
 won t whip me for her sake, if I promise not to be bad 
 any more." 
 
 "And do you promise, Andrew?" Mrs. Harding 
 spoke very seriously. 
 
 "I d promise, if I thought father would believe me," 
 sobbed the poor child. 
 
 " Promise in earnest ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, mother 1" 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 89 
 
 " Then ask him to forgive you, my son !" 
 
 There was a deep silence for some moments. 
 
 " Father I" Timid, hesitating, almost fearful was the 
 voice that broke on the hushed air of the chamber. 
 
 Harding neither moved from the spot where he stood, 
 with averted face, nor answered. 
 
 " Father ! father !" 
 
 The stern man was too much softened to resist the 
 pleading anguish of that broken voice. 
 
 " Well, my son ?" He did not mean to speak so 
 gently ; but his heart flowed into his tones. 
 
 " I ve been very wicked, father/ His utterance was 
 choked, and he could say no more. 
 
 " Speak to him, Jacob," said Mrs. Harding, bending 
 toward her husband. 
 
 " Lie down, my son, and go to sleep. You have been 
 very wicked, and I intended to punish you severely ; but 
 if yon will be a good boy, as you promise, I may forgive 
 you." 
 
 Harding tried to speak calmly, and even a little 
 sternly ; but his voice was scarcely steady, and betrayed 
 the powerful struggle that was going on within. As 
 Andrew fell back, sobbing, on the pillow, from which, a 
 little while before, he had started up in fear, his father 
 left the chamber, deeply agitated. He wished to be 
 alone, in order to recover his manly self-possession. His 
 face was calm and elevated when he rejoined his wife. 
 In both their hearts, what a wild tempest had raged, 
 symboliug the fierce storm that darkened the face of 
 nature ! But the azure depths of their spirits were clear 
 again clear as the starry heavens that arched above 
 their lowly dwelling. 
 
 8* 
 
90 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MR. LONG, the village schoolmaster, after leaving the 
 carpenter, took his way homeward, oppressed by a 
 troubled feeling. He was a man of humane impulses, 
 and these were excited by the cruel threats and savage 
 looks of Harding. Andrew s offence was heinous, de 
 serving more than ordinary marks of displeasure; and 
 he had, himself, been thinking over various modes of 
 punishment, in order, if possible, to select that which 
 would be most efficacious, when the young truant pre 
 sented himself in the morning. Miss Gimp, the dress 
 maker, was at his house when he returned home. She 
 was doing some work for Mrs. Long, and dropped in 
 with it a little before supper-time. Very naturally, she 
 was invited to remain until after tea. Indeed, Miss 
 Gimp was generally a welcome guest, for she was chatty, 
 and knew the weak side of every woman in the neigh 
 bourhood. She was, moreover, in possession of all the 
 current gossip good-natured and ill-natured floating 
 about, far and near, and had a way peculiar to herself, 
 and racy withal, of telling every thing she knew, and a 
 little more sometimes. 
 
 " You look sober, Edward," said the schoolmaster s 
 wife, as her eyes rested on her husband s face, soon after 
 he came in. " Don t you feel well ?" 
 
 " Something has happened that troubles me," replied 
 Mr. Long. And then he looked more serious. 
 
 How quickly was the head of Miss Gimp elevated ! 
 What a sparkling interest was in her two bright 
 eyes ! 
 
 " Trouble you, Edward ? What is it ?" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 91 
 
 A shade of anxiety flitted across the- pleasant face of 
 Mrs. Long. 
 
 " Nothing that particularly concerns myself," replied 
 the schoolmaster. 
 
 " Any thing wrong in the school ?" 
 
 " There s something wrong about one of the scholars. 
 Andrew Harding has been playing truant." 
 
 " The ne er do well V exclaimed Miss Gimp ; not so 
 much in sorrow or anger, as from a species of uncon 
 scious satisfaction at hearing a piece of bad news. 
 
 " I m afraid that boy will come to an evil end/ re 
 marked Mrs. Long. 
 
 " He ll come to the gallows, without doubt," said 
 Miss Gimp. " I never saw his match. Not for a moun 
 tain of gold would I live in the house with him. I pity 
 his poor mother ; but, then, she has herself to blame. 
 I never saw a woman have so little management with 
 children. She lets them do as they please, and make as 
 much noise and disorder as they like, until she gets so 
 worried she can t stand it any longer ; and then she 
 screams at them, and boxes their ears right and left, in a 
 way to make one s blood cold. That s no way to bring 
 up children." 
 
 " Indeed, it is not," was the quiet response of the 
 schoolmaster s wife. 
 
 " Why, d ye know," ran on Miss Gimp, " that on one 
 occasion of my being there to fit a dress for Mrs. Hard 
 ing, Andrew a little imp of Satan he is forgive me for 
 saying so Andrew threw a large case-knife at his sister 
 Lucy. It came as nigh cutting her ear off as could be 
 just touching it with the edge as it glanced by. If you 
 had seen the passion of his mother ! It was awful ! 
 She grew almost black in the face ; and I thought she 
 would never get done beating the boy. It mu.le me 
 sick at heart. Oh ! she is a woman of an awful temper ! 
 
92 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 I wouldn t have her tongue on me for the world. And 
 so Andrew has been playing the truant, ha !" 
 
 How the voice of Miss Gimp changed, as she recol 
 lected herself! 
 
 " I am grieved to say that he has/ answered the 
 Schoolmaster, gravely. 
 
 " Does his father know it ?" asked Mrs. Long. 
 
 " Yes ; and I am sorry to say, is in a most dreadful 
 passion about it. I called at his shop as I came home 
 just now, and the way he looked and spoke made me 
 really shudder." 
 
 " He s a cruel-tempered man," said Miss Gimp. " I 
 know all about him. His father was little better than a 
 savage, and used to beat his children about as if they 
 were dogs." 
 
 " I pity Andrew, from my heart," said Mr. Long. 
 " He has acted very badly ; but he is only a tender 
 child, needing correction for his fault, but not able to 
 bear the cruelty in store for him. I feel unhappy 
 about it." 
 
 " How would it do," suggested Mrs. Long, " for you 
 to go over, after tea, and try to soothe his father, and 
 thus break the heavy weight of his displeasure ?" 
 
 " Just what I was thinking about," said Mr. Long. 
 
 " I wouldn t do any such thing," spoke up Miss Gimp, 
 quickly. "Take my advice, and don t go near him. 
 He s a very strange man. As sure as you do, he ll 
 insult you; and, what is worse, beat Andrew twice as 
 badly, from a fresh excitement of angry feelings." 
 
 " There may be something in that," remarked the 
 schoolmaster s wife. 
 
 " There is something in it," said Miss Gimp. 
 "People like them can t bear interference from others; 
 and always repel intrusion by broad insult. Let them 
 alone, Mr. Long, to do with their own as they please. 
 More harm than good will arise from any attempt you 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 93 
 
 may make to screen the young rebel. It s all very 
 kind, very humane in you, Mr. Long, and does great 
 credit to your heart j but you can t help them any." 
 
 " There may be truth in your suggestion," answered 
 fhe schoolmaster, in some doubt and irresolution he 
 was flattered, in spite of himself, by Miss Gimp s com 
 pliment " and yet it does not seem right to leave a 
 helpless child in the hands of a man insane from anger, 
 and not make an effort to save him from excessive 
 cruelty." 
 
 Tea was soon after on the table. Mr. Long, still un 
 decided in his -mind, sat thoughtful and nearly silent 
 during the meal, while Miss Gimp rattled on, much to 
 the edification of Mrs. Long, who, in her agreeable tittle- 
 tattle, quite forgot poor Andrew Harding. A sudden 
 roll of distant thunder interrupted the voluble play of 
 the gossip s tongue. 
 
 " What s that !" she exclaimed " not a gust coming 
 up?" 
 
 Mr. Long went to the door, and threw a glance around 
 the horizon. 
 
 " There are some heavy clouds in the west," said he. 
 
 " And it threatens rain," added Miss Gimp, who now 
 stood by his side. " Get me my bonnet, if you please, 
 Mrs. Long," said she, turning to the schoolmaster s wife. 
 li It s growing dark fast, and I must run home." 
 
 "Don t be in a hurry. It isn t late. I m sure it 
 won t storm to-night," said Mrs. Long, affecting a great 
 deal of reluctance at parting with Miss Gimp, who, in 
 her turn, had just enough self-esteem to believe that the 
 schoolmaster s wife felt really bad about her "going 
 away so early." 
 
 Often, during the fearful storm that raged that night, 
 did Mr. Long think of Andrew Harding, and wonder 
 how it was with him. He could not forget the cruel 
 
94 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 face and words of the boy s father : they haunted his 
 imagination and his thoughts. 
 
 On the next morning, he went early, as was his cus 
 tom, to the school-house. He was sitting at his desk, 
 engaged in study, when the sound of footsteps caused 
 him to look up. It was too soon to expect any of the 
 scholars, and he was, therefore, prepared to see a 
 stranger. He almost started, as he saw the carpenter 
 leading his son, and within a few steps of the door. 
 
 " Mr. Long, I have brought Andrew to school this 
 morning." 
 
 Harding had paused with one foot across the threshold. 
 He spoke in a steady voice, rather below his ordinary 
 tone. " I preferred coming early, before the other 
 scholars arrived, as I wished to say a word about the 
 lad." 
 
 " Won t you step in ?" said the schoolmaster, quite 
 taken by surprise at the manner of his visitor, in which 
 was nothing of the fierce indignation apparent at their 
 last interview. 
 
 " No, I thank you. You can go in, Andrew." 
 
 The boy entered quietly, and went with a stealthy 
 Btep to his usual seat. 
 
 " I called to say, Mr. Long," resumed the carpenter, 
 (c that Andrew promises, if you will forgive him, never 
 again to be guilty of such bad conduct. I think his 
 punishment has already been severe enough, and of a 
 character not likely soon to be forgotten. He has been 
 very wicked, but, I think, repents sincerely." 
 
 "I am not angry with him," said the schoolmaster, 
 "but grieved that any scholar of mine should commit 
 that most disgraceful of all offences playing the truant. 
 If you think he has been sufficiently punished, and sin 
 cerely repents, the matter can rest where it is; but I 
 will not promise, for the future, should he offend again. 
 The example would be too pernicious." 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 95 
 
 " I think you can trust him," answered the carpenter, 
 as he moved back a few steps from the door. " Good 
 morning," he added, after standing silent for a moment 
 or two, and went away. 
 
 Mr. Long felt rather strangely on finding himself 
 alone with the boy, after this brief interview with Hard 
 ing. In both the father and son, a striking change was 
 apparent. As to the basis of the change, he was alto 
 gether ignorant. The natural conclusion to which his 
 mind came, almost without reflection, was, that the car 
 penter had punished his child with a measure of severity 
 from which his own better consciousness now revolted, 
 and that, as some reparation for his cruelty, he now 
 sought to screen him from further consequences. That 
 both were greatly subdued, was apparent at a glance. 
 
 " Andrew," said the schoolmaster. He spoke kindly, 
 but seriously. 
 
 The child looked up timidly. 
 
 " Come here, Andrew." 
 
 The boy left his seat, and came toward the school 
 master, with a slow movement, his eyes fixed earnestly 
 and inquiringly upon his face. 
 
 There were unmistakable marks of suffering and fear 
 in that young countenance; and, as Mr. Long noted 
 them, pity for the lad and a new interest in regard to 
 him were awakened in his mind. 
 
 " Poor boy !" It was his involuntary mental ejacula 
 tion. Scarcely thinking of what he was doing, he took 
 Andrew, by the hand, and said, kindly 
 
 " I am sorry you were so naughty yesterday. How 
 came you to do so ?" 
 
 The child s lips quivered a moment, and his eyes fell 
 to the ground. A little while he stood silent. 
 
 " How came you to do so, Andrew ?" The voice that 
 said this was kind and encouraging. 
 
 "I don t know, Mr. Long," was answered; and now 
 
96 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 the boy s clear eyes the schoolmaster was struck with 
 the softness of their expression were raised to his. 
 "It seemed as if I couldn t help it. I didn t think 
 much, at first, what I was doing; but when I got a 
 going, it was like running down hill. I could not stop 
 myself." 
 
 " You are sorry about it, are you not, Andrew ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, Mr. Long. I can t tell you how sorry I am. 
 I wish I hadn t done it." 
 
 " You will never do so again ?" 
 
 " Not if I can help it, Mr. Long." 
 
 " You can help it, Andrew," said the schoolmaster, in 
 a serious voice. " Every one can help doing wrong." 
 
 "I don t know." The child spoke half to himself, 
 and in a tone so sad, that the schoolmaster was touched 
 by it. " It seems as if I couldn t help it, sometimes." 
 
 " Do you ever say your prayers, on going to bed at 
 night ?" asked the schoolmaster, after a few moments of 
 thoughtful silence. 
 
 " I used to say them a good while ago ; but I never 
 do now," was answered. 
 
 " You must begin again, Andrew, if you desire to be 
 a good boy. Begin this very night. Do not get into 
 bed until you have knelt down and said, l Our Father 
 who art in heaven/ Do Lotty and Philip say their 
 prayers at night ?" 
 
 " No, sir. Mother doesn t teach any of us to say our 
 prayers." 
 
 " Do you ever read in the Bible ?" 
 
 " Mother won t let me have the Bible." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " She says I dirty the leaves and pictures." 
 
 " Have you no Testament ?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " If I give you one, will you read in it ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 97 
 
 " Very well, Andrew, I will bring you a Testament 
 this afternoon, and it shall be yours if you will learn a 
 verse in it every day." 
 
 The lad s face brightened with real pleasure. 
 
 " Not all evil no, not all evil !" were the school 
 master s earnestly, inward spoken words. " The inno 
 cence of childhood has been trampled on and overlaid ; 
 but there is good ground still, ready for the hand of 
 culture." 
 
 " Andrew," said he, after a slight pause, " you must 
 be on your guard when the other boys come to school. 
 It is known that you have played truant, and some of 
 them will be sure to say unkind things to you about it. 
 Try and not get angry try hard, and I m sure you can 
 help it. Don t seem to mind what they say, and they ll 
 soon let you alone." 
 
 The form of a boy darkened the door at this moment, 
 and the conference of Andrew and the schoolmaster was 
 at an end. 
 
98 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IT was evening. Lotty and Grace were sleeping, side 
 by side, and Philip, a restless, rather fretful child of four 
 years, had some time since been taken off to bed. Mrs. 
 Harding, having cleared away the supper things, now 
 busily plied her needle. Her husband was near her, by 
 the table, his head resting on his hand, and his mind 
 busy with a new train of thoughts that occupied it almost 
 per force. Side by side, on two low chairs, sat Andrew 
 and his sister Lucy, younger by two years. Andrew 
 held open in his hands the Testament given him, ac 
 cording to promise, by Mr. Long, and he was reading 
 from it in a low voice, while Lucy leaned toward him, 
 listening intently. The mother s ears were open, as well 
 as Lucy s, and took in every word ; and it was not long 
 before Harding began to listen also. Andrew was read 
 ing of the birth of Christ in the city of Bethlehem, and 
 of the wise men who came from the East, guided by the 
 star that heralded his wonderful advent. It was many, 
 many years since the words of this strange history had 
 been in his thoughts ; and now they came to him with a 
 newly awakening interest. Andrew read on of the 
 angel who appeared to Joseph in a dream, warning him 
 of the evil designs of Herod of the cruel slaughter of 
 the Innocents of John the Baptist preaching repent 
 ance in the wilderness of Judea and of the baptism of 
 the Saviour in Jordan. 
 
 All unconscious that his father and mother were list 
 ening, the boy continued to read. What a power was 
 in the divine word, coming to their ears, as it did, borne 
 on- the voice of a child ! There was a wonderful fascination 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 99 
 
 about every fact and every holy sentiment. They saw, 
 in imagination, Jesus led up, of the Spirit, into the wil 
 derness, to be tempted of the devil; and when the re 
 buked tempter left him, they felt a sense of pleasure at 
 the triumph of good over evil, that passed with a low 
 thrill to the profoundest depths of their being. In the 
 call of Simon and Andrew, and James and John, the 
 sons of Zebedee, they almost seemed to hear the Lord 
 speaking to them, and calling them to a new life. They 
 saw him going about through Galilee, teaching in the 
 synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, 
 and healing all manner of sickness and all manner of 
 disease among the people. And when he went up into 
 a mountain, and taught from thence the multitude, the 
 divine words he uttered came to them with a spirit and 
 power that lifted their souls into higher regions, and 
 gave them perceptions of truths such as had never come 
 to them before. 
 
 " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain 
 mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see 
 God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be 
 called the children of God." 
 
 Many times, in earlier days days in which some rosy 
 gleams from the morning of childhood mingled with the 
 colder light of selfish maturity had they heard these 
 beautiful sentences; but never had the words so pene 
 trated their souls; never had they felt such a sad, 
 almost hopeless yearning to rise into the holy states of 
 the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemaker. 
 
 Still Andrew read on, unconscious that other ears 
 than Lucy s were hearkening to his utterance intently. 
 
 " Let your light so shine before men, that they may 
 see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in 
 heaven." 
 
 A low sigh from the mother s heart trembled, scarce 
 audibly, on the air. 
 
100 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them 
 of old time, Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt 
 perform unto the Lord thine oaths. But I say unto you, 
 Swear not at all : neither by heaven, for it is God s 
 throne; nor by the earth, for it is his footstool; neither 
 by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great king. 
 Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou 
 canst not make one hair white or black; but let your 
 communication be yea, yea ; nay, nay : for whatsoever 
 is more than these, cometh of evil." 
 
 " Cometh of evil cometh of evil." How the words 
 sounded in the ears of Jacob Harding, over and over 
 again, as if spoken directly to him ! 
 
 " But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them 
 them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and 
 pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute 
 you : that ye may be the children of your Father which 
 is in heaven ; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil 
 and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the 
 unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what re 
 ward have ye ? do not even the publicans the same ? 
 And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more 
 than others ? do not even the publicans so ? Be ye 
 therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in 
 heaven is perfect." 
 
 Tired with reading aloud, Andrew now closed his 
 Testament, and said, in a kind way, to his sister 
 
 " Come, Lucy let s go to bed." 
 
 Lucy made no objection, and the two children, who 
 had learned to wait on themselves, took a candle, and 
 went off to their chamber, up stairs, without a cross or 
 angry word something so unusual, that both father and 
 mother noted it with surprise. 
 
 Plying her needle, sat Mrs. Harding, and near her, 
 his hand shading his face from the light, was her hus 
 band, almost motionless. In the minds of both lingered 
 
THE ANGfet OF TI?E 
 
 101 
 
 passages just read from the Word of Life, while a deep 
 calmness pervaded their spirits. Not so much rebuked 
 were they by the truths, condemnatory of the past, 
 which seemed spoken anew, as inspired by a dawning 
 hope of something better in the future. A dim fore 
 shadowing of better and happier states came to both, and 
 with it an awakening tenderness each for the other, and 
 a deeper, purer, more unselfish love for their children. 
 
 A little while they had heard Andrew and Lucy 
 moving about in the chamber above ; then all was still. 
 Presently there stole down a low murmur. The mother s 
 hand rested in her lap, and she raised her head to listen. 
 
 " What is that ?" she said, rising and going to the 4 
 foot of the stairway. 
 
 " Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our 
 debts" 
 
 This much she heard distinctly, in the voice of 
 Andrew. 
 
 The murmuring sound was continued for a little while, 
 and then all was silent. 
 
 "What was it?" asked Harding, as his wife came 
 back to her seat by the table. 
 
 A moment or two Mrs. Harding gazed into her hus 
 band s face, as if to read his state of mind, and then 
 answered 
 
 " It was Andrew, saying his prayers." 
 
 The hand that had been withdrawn from between the 
 light and his face, was quickly restored to its position by 
 Harding, who turned himself a little farther away from 
 observation, and did not speak for nearly half an hour. 
 That time was spent in an almost involuntary review of 
 the past, and in partially formed purposes to live a better 
 life in the future ; if not for his own sake, at least for 
 the sake of his children. 
 
 Very gently did sleep draw her dusky curtains around 
 
 the weary heads of Mr. and Mrs. Harding that night. 
 9* 
 
102 T$E AKGEX. ,OF ;T^*E ^USEHOLD. 
 
 Morning found their spirits calm, hopeful, and yearning 
 for the better life, of whose beatitudes came to them 
 some partial glimpses as they listened to the words of 
 the Saviour, teaching the multitudes that gathered to 
 hear, as he sat upon the mountain of Galilee. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ONE day, a few weeks later in the course of events we 
 are recording, Miss Gimp was a little fluttered by seeing 
 a handsome carriage draw up before her humble dwell 
 ing. She looked, of course, for a richly dressed lady to 
 emerge from so elegant a vehicle ; but, instead, a plainly 
 attired girl, evidently a domestic in some family, stepped 
 upon the ground. The dressmaker was already in the 
 door. 
 
 " Does Miss Gimp live here ?" asked the girl. 
 
 " That is my name : will you walk in T said the 
 dressmaker. 
 
 The girl entered, and took the chair that was 
 proffered. 
 
 " Are you very busy at this time ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Not very, 7 answered Miss Gimp. 
 
 " Have you a week to spare ?" 
 
 " I don t know about that," replied the dressmaker. 
 " Who wants me for a week T 
 
 " Mrs. Barclay." 
 
 " Mrs. Barclay, over at Beechwood ?" 
 
 " Yes. You made a dress for her last fall, I believe." 
 
 " Yes. When does she want me ?" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 103 
 
 " Right away, if you can come." 
 
 Miss Gimp considered a little while. 
 
 " I have two dresses to finish/ said she; " after that, 
 I can go to Mrs. Barclay/ 
 
 "How long will it take you to finish these dresses ?" 
 asked the girl. 
 
 " To-day and to-morrow." 
 
 " Then you can come the day after to-morrow ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Very well. I ll say so to Mrs. Barclay. At what 
 time in the morning will you be ready T } 
 
 11 As early as you please." 
 
 " Say nine o clock ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Very well," said the girl ; "I will be over for you, 
 in the carriage, by that time." 
 
 Miss Gimp was very good at promising, and at per 
 forming also, when it suited her to keep her engage 
 ments. In the present case, she meant to be as good as 
 her word, even though in keeping her word to Mrs. 
 Barclay, she broke it to her very particular friends, 
 Mrs. Jarvis and the storekeeper s wife, for both of whom, 
 she had promised to make dresses, as soon as the work 
 on hand was finished. The Barclays were wealthy 
 people, and she could afford to disappoint her less pre 
 tending neighbours, for the sake of making favour with 
 them. 
 
 According to appointment, the handsome carriage 
 drew up before the dressmaker s door exactly at nine 
 o clock on the day agreed upon, and Miss Gimp, 
 conscious of having acquired a new importance, was 
 soon reposing among its luxurious cushions. Past the 
 dwelling of Mrs. Willits drove the elegant vehicle, and 
 Miss Gimp did not fail to lean from the window, to 
 throw a smile at the storekeeper s wife, who exclaimed 
 to herself 
 
104 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Why, bless us ! What does all this mean T 
 
 A brisk drive of half an hour brought them to the 
 stately residence of the Barclays the finest within a 
 circle of twenty miles. Mrs. Barclay, a handsome but 
 dignified woman her age was not over thirty-five re 
 ceived the dressmaker kindly, but with a manner that at 
 once repelled all gossipping familiarity. She had sent 
 for her as a workwoman, to perform a needed service, 
 and wished for nothing beyond ; and it was but a little 
 while before Miss Gimp understood this clearly. Two 
 or three times during the first day, she tried to draw 
 Mrs. Barclay out ; but it was of no use the lady wanted 
 her skill as a dressmaker; but, beyond this, neither 
 asked nor received any thing. 
 
 "Proud haughty stuck up!" Many times did 
 Miss Gimp repeat these words to herself, by way of con 
 solation in her disappointment at not being questioned 
 by Mrs. Barclay about people for whom she had worked. 
 There were the Wilsons and the Mayfields she had 
 made dresses for them, and quietly intimated the fact 
 of whom, considering their position, Mrs. Barclay must 
 want to hear the dressmaker s opinion. But not the 
 slightest sign of interest was manifested by the lady. 
 Once or twice Miss Gimp alluded to them, in a way 
 that she believed would draw Mrs. Barclay out ; but the 
 allusion was met by a frigid silence. 
 
 Mrs. Barclay had a daughter in her fifteenth year, 
 who, though but a child, was as reserved to the dress 
 maker as her mother. Miss Gimp tried hard to win her 
 confidence by a chatty familiarity ; but Florence repalled 
 all these advances politely, yet effectually. 
 
 On the second day of Miss Gimp s rather uncomfort 
 able sojourn in this family, where she was appreciated 
 only for her skill in mantua-making, she heard Mrs. 
 Barclay remark to her daughter in a low voice 
 
 " Your aunt Edith Beaufort will be here to-morrow." 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 105 
 
 " She will !" There was a tone of surprise in the 
 voice of Florence that instantly quickened the ears of 
 Miss Gimp, who bent closer to her work in order to 
 seem entirely absorbed therein. 
 
 " Yes. I got a note from her a little while ago. 
 Jacob brought it over," answered the mother. 
 
 "I thought she was going back to Clinton, after 
 finishing her visit to Mrs. Larch." 
 
 " She intended doing so when she left here ; but she 
 wants to see your father about some business matters 
 that she says needs his attention." 
 
 " How long is she going to stay ?" inquired Florence. 
 
 " A week, she says." 
 
 " I don t like aunt Edith, and I can t help it," re 
 marked Florence. " I never feel pleasant when she is 
 here ; and am always relieved from a kind of pressure on 
 my feelings when she goes." 
 
 " You should try to overcome this," said Mrs. Bar 
 clay. " Your aunt is always kind, and, I think, much 
 attached to you. She has her peculiarities, as we all 
 have; and toleration of individual peculiarities, as I 
 have often said to you, is a common duty we owe to 
 each other." 
 
 " I often wish, mother," replied the girl, in a gentler 
 tone, " that I were more like you that I could forget 
 and deny myself for the sake of others, as much as 
 you do." 
 
 " It is not in our power," answered Mrs. Barclay, " to 
 love others and seek their good by a mere effort of the 
 mind. Desire is fruitless, unless it flows into action. 
 What we have to do, is to be externally kind and for 
 bearing to do that good for others which reason and 
 religion enjoin upon us. This may require some effort 
 and self-denial in the beginning; but acts, from right 
 principles, form vessels in the mind, into which affec 
 tions can flow and find a permanent abiding place. 
 
106 TflE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 What is mere duty at first, becomes ultimately a de 
 light." 
 
 Florence bent her head, listening attentively, and 
 seeking to find, in her mother s earnestly spoken words, 
 the power to overcome. And she did receive strength. 
 
 Miss Gimp, whose ears had taken in every word of 
 this conversation, was puzzled to comprehend its entire 
 meaning. The words she understood ; but to hear such 
 words from the lips of Mrs. Barclay, whom she had re 
 garded only as a proud woman of the world, bewildered 
 her. Could they be spoken sincerely ? Yet there was 
 no room for doubt. They were the utterance of a 
 mother made only for the ears of a beloved and con 
 fiding child. In spite of her wounded self-love, Miss 
 Gimp could not but feel respect for Mrs. Barclay. From 
 that time, she was subdued and reserved in her pre 
 sence. 
 
 On the next day, aunt Edith Beaufort came. She 
 was a woman past the middle age ; tall and dignified in 
 person; somewhat proud and stately in her carriage; 
 and with an eye that, when it looked at any one steadily, 
 seemed to reach inward to the very thoughts. A close 
 observer would not fail to observe a certain cloaking of 
 her own purposes. While she sought to penetrate every 
 one, she as sedulously kept herself impenetrable. 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort had none of the high-minded scruples 
 that prevented her sister-in-law, Mrs. Barclay, from list 
 ening to the idle or malicious gossip of the dressmaker. 
 On the other hand, she rather encouraged Miss Gimp to 
 talk. On the morning after her arrival, Mrs. Barclay 
 and her daughter rode out. They were gone a couple of 
 hours, and a portion of this time was spent by Mrs. 
 Beaufort in the department where the dressmaker was at 
 work. 
 
 " What kind of a man/ said she, during a pause in 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 107 
 
 Miss Gimp s tittle-tattle, " is your carpenter ? Hard 
 ing, I believe, is his name." 
 
 " Oh, a very bad sort of a man," promptly answered 
 Miss Gimp. " The worst man I ever knew." 
 
 A slight shadow flitted over the countenance of Mrs. 
 Beaufort, and there was a perceptible huskiness in her 
 voice as she said 
 
 " Bad in what way ?" 
 
 " Why in every way." 
 
 " Bad-tempered ?" inquired Mrs. Beaufort. 
 
 " You d think so, if you d ever seen him among his 
 children. He came near killing his oldest boy two or 
 three weeks ago." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " He stole money, and lied, and played truant into the 
 bargain. His father beat him almost to death." 
 
 He did !" 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! The poor little fellow is only eight 
 years old, and if he did do wrong, wasn t to be treated 
 like a dog or a vicious horse." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort sighed, and fell into a state of mental 
 abstraction, from which the dressmaker soon aroused 
 her, by saying 
 
 " The strangest and saddest thing of all is, somebody 
 left a little helpless infant at their door not long since." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort started. 
 
 " Well, what of it ?" she said, partially averting her 
 face. 
 
 "What of it? They might as well have placed a 
 lamb among wolves." 
 
 " You speak strongly, Miss Gimp." Mrs. Beaufort 
 now fixed her eyes upon her with a searching look. 
 " Have you heard of their ill-treating the child ?" 
 
 "Not particularly," answered Miss Gimp. "The 
 fact is, nobody hardly ever goes there. But what are 
 
108 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 you to expect of people who treat their own children 
 as if they were wild animals, instead of human beings T 
 
 "Have you seen the stranger baby of whom you 
 speak ?" inquired the lady. 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 " What kind of a baby is it ?" 
 
 " One born for a better lot than that which has been 
 so cruelly assigned to it. The mother who could desert 
 that child had a heart of stone. It is the sweetest, love 
 liest little darling that ever I saw ; and everybody says 
 the same." 
 
 "Does no one suspect from whence it came ?" 
 
 Miss Gimp looked knowing, as she answered 
 
 " Every one has the liberty of guessing, you know, 
 madam." . 
 
 " True. But what ground for guessing is there in the 
 present case ?" 
 
 " We know one thing for certain," replied Miss Gimp. 
 <( It came not a hundred miles from Beechwood." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort manifested some surprise. 
 
 " What reason have you for saying this ?" 
 
 " The woman who left it at Harding s was seen." 
 
 "Who saw her?" 
 
 There was, on the part of Mrs. Beaufort, an evident 
 desire to conceal the interest she felt in the subject, 
 which did not escape the quick penetration of Miss 
 Gimp. 
 
 " Harry Wilkins, a neighbour of mine, saw her. He 
 met her carrying a basket, as he was going over to 
 Beechwood. She acted strangely, and this caused him 
 to notice her. As he was returning home, he met her 
 again, without the basket. It was on the very evening 
 the babe was found." 
 
 "And that is all you know about it?" said Mrs. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 109 
 
 Beaufort, the earnestness of manner, shown a little while 
 before, all gone. 
 
 " All I know now, certainly, but not all I expect to 
 know," replied Miss Gimp. " Harry Wilkins says that 
 he got a good look at the young woman s face, and that 
 he would know it again among thousands. He thought 
 he saw her about two weeks ago, and, if it hadn t been 
 just where it was, he would have been sure of it." 
 
 The interest of Mrs. Beaufort reawakened. 
 
 " Where did he think he saw her ?" she inquired. 
 
 " Over at Clifton." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort started. The eyes of Miss Gimp were 
 fixed intently upon the lady, in whose face she read 
 much more than Mrs. Beaufort wished to reveal. The 
 two looked earnestly at each other for some moments, 
 and then their eyes fell to the floor. Nearly a minute 
 of silence followed. Mrs. Beaufort then said, with appa 
 rent indifference 
 
 " Over at Clifton ?" 
 
 "Yes, ma am. He was riding over there to see a 
 man on some business, when, just as he came in sight of 
 the village, a carriage drove by, having in it two ladies. 
 One of them, he is almost sure, was the woman he saw 
 on the night the child was found. If her vail hadn t 
 been partly over her face, he would have been in no 
 doubt. He says he turned his horse, and rode after the 
 carriage until he saw where it stopped." 
 
 He did ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma am." 
 
 Did he describe the house?" 
 
 " Yes. It was a large, old-fashione<|> stone house, 
 with beautiful grounds about it." 
 
 " Didn t he ask who lived there ?" 
 
 "Yes; but he forgot the name. He s going over 
 there in a few weeks, and then he will learn all he can 
 10 
 
110 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 about the people who live in the house. So you see, 
 ma am, we re likely to find out something." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort made no answer, but sat lost in the 
 tangled maze of her own thoughts for a long time. Ever 
 and anon the dressmaker would cast stealthy glances 
 toward her, but the lady seemed all unconscious of ob 
 servation. Her face, now in repose, and taking its hue 
 from the tenor of her thoughts, was one to puzzle a 
 wiser physiognomist than Miss Gimp. Its expression, 
 even, she could see, was bad bad, as indicating the 
 long predominance of selfish purposes and an overmaster 
 ing self-will. And yet it contained traces of an old 
 beauty. The lines were sharpened by pride and passion, 
 not rounded by a debasing sensuality. Yet was not all 
 bad. A softness about the delicately formed mouth and 
 gently receding chin, showed that all the true woman in 
 her had not suffered obliteration. Without speaking, 
 she at length arose, and went from the apartment with a 
 slow, stately step. 
 
 " I ll read that riddle before I m done with it," said 
 the dressmaker, letting her hands fall into her lap, the 
 moment she was alone, and raising her body into an 
 erect position. " My lady knows all about this matter, 
 or I m mistaken. Let me see. Clifton? Didn t Flo 
 rence Barclay say something about her aunt s going 
 back to Clifton ? Be sure, she did ! I remember it now 
 distinctly." 
 
 What a light came into the shrivelled face of Miss 
 Gimp! 
 
 "And then," she continued, "what interest, I won 
 der, could a woman like her feel in a man like Harding, 
 if there were not something behind the curtain ? How 
 did she know there was such a man ? It s all clear as 
 daylight. I see it as plain as I do that butterfly on the 
 window. I ll call at Harry Wilkins , as soon as I go 
 home, and tell him to be sure and find out the name of 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. Ill 
 
 them people the next time he goes over to Clifton. I 
 wouldn t be much afraid to bet" 
 
 The door opened, and Mrs. Beaufort re-entered. She 
 had a silk dress in her hand, one of the breadths of 
 which had received an ugly fracture. 
 
 " Can you mend that neatly for me ?" said she, as she 
 held the dress toward Miss Gimp. 
 
 The latter examined the rent. 
 
 " The edges are very much frayed out ; but I will do 
 the best I can." 
 
 " I would like you to do it now. I wish to wear the 
 dress this afternoon." 
 
 Miss Grimp laid aside the work on which she was en 
 gaged, and commenced repairing the damaged silk, while 
 Mrs. Beaufort sat by, looking on. 
 
 " You think," said the latter, speaking as if she were 
 continuing a conversation, "that your neighbours will 
 ill-treat the babe ?" 
 
 "If they ill-treat their own children, what can you 
 hope for other people s that fall into their hands ? It s 
 my opinion that the neighbours ought to take it away 
 from them, and send it to the poor-house ; and I ve said 
 so from the beginning. But what is everybody s busi 
 ness is nobody s business." 
 
 " Is Harding getting along pretty well ?" Mrs. Beau 
 fort inquired, after a pause. 
 
 " Men like him never get along well," answered the 
 uncompromising dres smaker. 
 
 " Isn t he a good workman ?" 
 
 " The best in twenty miles round, I ve heard it said. 
 But what does that signify ?" 
 
 Does he drink ?" 
 
 "He s seen too often at Stark s tavern, if that indi 
 cates any thing. I can t say that he gets drunk ; but 
 you know to what tavern-going leads." 
 
112 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Is he at all beforehand in the world ?" inquired the 
 lady. 
 
 " He s in debt at the store. Mrs. Willits told me this 
 herself, and that her husband was going to stop trusting 
 him. That doesn t look very much to me as if he was 
 beforehanded." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort sighed gently, w as if some unpleasant 
 thought had flitted across her mind. Then she changed 
 the subject, and did not once again allude to it, even re 
 motely. After the torn dress was mended, she thanked 
 Miss Gimp, with a reserved and dignified air, and with 
 drew from the room. The dressmaker did not see her 
 again, and only learned, incidentally, that she left for 
 her home on the next morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE feeble aspirations for a better life, which had 
 been awakened in the breast of Jacob Harding, struggled 
 not toward activity without frequent assaults from the 
 tempter. Too deeply interwoven, in the very texture of 
 his moral nature, were evil inclinations, made strong by 
 long indulgence, for good to gain an easy victory. His 
 life, for years, had been one of disorder, internal as well 
 as external ; and now, when there came to him faint and 
 far-off glimpses of the beauty and desirableness of order, 
 virtue, and religion, the new creation it could be 
 nothing less seemed so near to an impossibility, that 
 his heart bowed, at times, hopeless almost despairing. 
 
 External causes of disturbance were added to the 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 113 
 
 awakening conflict within. On some days, every thing 
 would go wrong with him, and he would return to his 
 home, when evening closed, in so fretted a state of mind, 
 that his coming fell upon his household like a shadow. 
 But the shadow darkened only for a little while. The 
 presence of Grace was a perpetual sunshine; and even 
 the dense clouds that gathered, at times, around the car 
 penter s stormy spirit, could not shut out the light and 
 warmth diffused so genially around her. With the babe 
 in his arms, or lying against his breast, the enemies of 
 his spirit assaulted him in vain. Deeply disturbed 
 though he might have been by the conflicts of the day, 
 peace now folded her wings in his heart. However 
 much doubt and despondency, arising from worldly dis 
 appointments, had overshadowed him with gloom, the 
 soft cheek of the little one was never laid against his 
 own without his feeling a tranquil confidence that, even 
 as God was providing for the helpless innocent, so would 
 he provide for him. In the clear depths of her beautiful 
 eyes, he always saw a light that seemed to make plainer 
 the way before him. 
 
 But, had not the babe s influence been felt by others 
 of his household, as well as by himself, Harding would 
 have struggled for self-conquest in vain. Happily, over 
 all, the silent power of her beauty and innocence con 
 tinued to prevail ; and, in a marked degree, over Mrs. 
 Harding. Thus, in the better life, up to which all were 
 voluntarily or involuntarily aspiring, a kind of equipoise 
 was established. The disturbed forces had received a 
 new and better adjustment. One great gain on the part 
 of both Harding and his wife was this : each had learned 
 to repress the utterance of captious or ill-natured words. 
 In former times, unkindness of thought found ever a 
 quick outbirth in harsh, exciting language, that never 
 failed to produce a storm of passion. These storms, and 
 their often fearful ravages, each remembered too well; 
 10* 
 
114 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 and in the mind of each was a sufficient dread of their 
 recurrence to induce a watchful self-control. 
 
 Since the fearful night in which Andrew suffered so 
 many terrors, there had been a marked change in this 
 wayward boy. Mr. Long, the schoolmaster, seeing the 
 impression that remained, and feeling for him a kind in 
 terest, made it a point to notice him, and, as carefully 
 and judiciously as was in his power, awaken and foster 
 his self-respect. At least once a week, he would drop in 
 at the carpenter s, and never failed, on these occasions, 
 to speak a word in praise of Andrew s good conduct and 
 studiousness. The lad s gratified look, whenever this 
 was done, gave him broad ground of hope for the 
 future. 
 
 The change in Andrew was another readjusted weight 
 in the balancing of moral forces to which we have re 
 ferred. Without this particular readjustment, the new 
 equipoise seen in the carpenter s family could hardly 
 have been maintained. Little trouble was required in 
 the management of the younger children, now that 
 Andrew s baleful influence over them was, in a great 
 measure, withdrawn; and this left a diminished evil 
 pressure on the temper of Mrs. Harding. 
 
 A man like Jacob Harding is never a popular man. 
 He is sure to offend in his business intercourse with 
 others, and to make enemies. Of the carpenter, there 
 were few to speak a good word, beyond the fact that no 
 better workman than he was to be found. This reputa 
 tion had insured him work that otherwise would have 
 found its way to the shop of a better-natured, but in no 
 way so reliable a mechanic, who lived in Beechwood. 
 But there are men who will sacrifice their interests 
 quicker than their feelings. Two of this class, who had 
 employed the carpenter for some years, and given him a 
 good deal of work in that time, becoming offended in 
 consequence of some hasty words on the part of Harding, 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 115 
 
 withdrew their patronage and influence, and gave both 
 to a young beginner in a neighbouring village. One of 
 these men was about erecting a handsome dwelling, for 
 which Harding had furnished a part of the plans, and in 
 the building of which he had expected to make a better 
 profit than usually fell to his share. On learning the 
 decision that had been made in favour of a rival work 
 man, the carpenter was oppressed with a sense of dis 
 couragement so great, that it seemed to him as if a high 
 mountain were suddenly thrown across his path. Not as 
 had been usual with him, when things went wrong, did 
 he give way to a burst of passion, when the fact was 
 announced that his old customers had withdrawn their 
 work. 
 
 " All right," he answered, in a voice of forced calm 
 ness ; and the messenger who brought the intelligence 
 left his shop, little dreaming that the seemingly unmoved 
 carpenter had wellnigh staggered under his words as if 
 they had been heavy blows. Upon these two customers, 
 Harding had depended for the best of his season s work. 
 All his other engagements were of minor importance, 
 and the profit to accrue therefrom scarcely sufficed to 
 provide food for his table. Of the causes leading to this 
 result he was by no means ignorant. In his last inter 
 view with both of the parties, he had suffered himself to 
 get very much annoyed at certain propositions which he 
 thought involved a question of his honesty. Rough and 
 plain spoken, he flung back upon them the fancied im 
 putation in so offensive a manner as to make them 
 angry, and they left him under a good deal of excite 
 ment. This, he doubted not, would pass off, and leave 
 them ready to complete arrangements with him as be 
 fore. But the sequel showed his error. 
 
 Never before had the carpenter s way seemed so 
 closely hedged never had he felt such an oppressive 
 sense of doubt and fear as he looked into the future. 
 
116 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Work lie had usually had in plenty. It came crowding 
 in upon him from all sides, and he was oftener worried 
 on account of its superabundance than concerned for its 
 continuance. He had not always executed with prompt 
 ness ; and to this fact might be traced one of the causes 
 of his want of thrift. 
 
 It was nearly half an hour after this unpleasant intel 
 ligence had been received, and Harding stood leaning on 
 liis work-bench, the chisel with which he had been cut 
 ting a mortice resting idly in his hand, when a form 
 darkened his shop-door, and a familiar voice said 
 
 " Good afternoon, friend Harding !" 
 
 The carpenter lifted his eyes, and met the pleasant, 
 always cheerful face of Mr. Long, the schoolmaster, who 
 was on his way home after the close of his afternoon 
 session. 
 
 " You seem troubled," said the latter. Harding had 
 looked at him, without replying. " There s nothing 
 wrong with you, I hope ? I thought I d just drop in to 
 say that Andrew is getting on finely." 
 
 "I m glad to hear it." There was a huskiness in the 
 carpenter s voice, that betrayed his unhappy state. 
 
 " None of your family sick, I hope ?" said Mr. Long, 
 with a kind interest that won upon the carpenter s feelings. 
 
 " All reasonably well, I thank you." 
 
 " Any thing wrong in your business ?" 
 
 "I m sorry to say that there is," replied Harding. 
 "I have just lost my whole season s work." 
 
 " How comes that ?" said Mr. Long. 
 
 "Two buildings that I had engaged have gone into 
 the hands of another carpenter, and I am left without a 
 single contract of any importance." 
 
 " This is bad," remarked the schoolmaster. 
 
 " It is bad for a man in my situation, with a large 
 family on his hands. What I am to do, Heaven only 
 knows !" 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 117 
 
 Mr. Long was struck with the tone of despondency 
 in which these words were uttered". Obeying the 
 prompting impulse of the moment, he answered 
 
 " You may trust in Heaven, Mr. Harding. He that 
 feedeth the ravens will not suffer you to want." 
 
 The words of the schoolmaster produced a momentary 
 disturbance in the mind of Harding, who replied, with 
 some bitterness of manner 
 
 " Oh ! as for me, I don t pretend to have any claims 
 on Heaven." 
 
 " All men," replied Mr. Long, " have claims on their 
 Maker for things needful to sustain life, and give them 
 the ability to perform useful service in the world. For 
 these you may look with confidence. Providence never 
 hedges up a man s way in one direction, without seeing 
 that it is opened in another. All will come out right, 
 neighbour Harding never fear." 
 
 " But I do fear," was the desponding answer. " To 
 my knowledge, no one else is going to build this sum 
 mer. Unless there comes a hurricane, unroofing half a 
 dozen barns and houses, I see no chance of a sufficiency 
 of work during the season." 
 
 Harding said this with affected humour ; yet his tones 
 failed to conceal the bitterness and distrust within. 
 
 " Not a good direction for any one s thoughts to flow," 
 said Mr. Long, seriously. " Providence will open the 
 way before you, I trust, without the aid of hurricanes, or 
 any other ministers of destruction." 
 
 " I hope so ; but I see little to encourage me." 
 
 Even while the carpenter said this, a neighbouring 
 farmer entered his shop, and asked the question 
 
 " Are you very busy just now, Mr. Harding ?" 
 
 " Not particularly so," was answered. 
 
 " Will you call over, and see me in the morning ? 
 I wish to talk with you about putting a new roof on my 
 barn. I did think of trusting it until next spring, but 
 
118 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 I ve been examining it rather closely to-day, and don t 
 think it will be safe to run the risk, especially as there is 
 every prospect of large crops this summer. In fact, I ve 
 decided to have a new roof. So, if you ll call over to 
 morrow morning, wo will arrange to have it done." 
 
 Harding promised to see the farmer bright and early 
 on the next morning. Receiving this assurance, the 
 latter departed. The schoolmaster had remained during 
 this brief interview, and when the farmer left, remarked, 
 with a smile 
 
 "It is true as I said, neighbour Harding. Provi 
 dence never hedges up a man s way in one direction, 
 without opening it in another." 
 
 11 13 ut what s the use of it all?" replied the carpenter. 
 " I would call this kind of business mere child s play. 
 Smith s money is just as good as Jones s, and will buy 
 as much pork and corn meal. And as for the work, one 
 job is about as easy as another." 
 
 11 Did it never occur to you," said Mr. Long, " that in 
 the dealings of Providence with men, something beyond 
 the provision of mere food and raiment was involved. 
 Have your thoughts never reached beyond the question 
 of pork and corn meal /" 
 
 "I don t understand you."- The carpenter looked 
 slightly bewildered. 
 
 " -Man has two lives," said Mr. Long: " a life of the 
 body and a life of the mind. To one of these lives has 
 been appointed a comparatively short duration; the 
 other is unending." 
 
 The carpenter leaned his head in an attitude of atten 
 tion ; seeing which, Mr. Long continued 
 
 " God is an eternal being ; and it is plain, from the fact 
 that he has given to the spirit of man an eternal exist 
 ence, that ho must regard the wants and destiny of the 
 spirit as in every way of primary account, when com 
 pared with (lie wants aud destiny of the body. Let this 
 
THE AJIOEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 119 
 
 thought find a distinct resting-place in your mind, neigh- 
 boor Harding, and then you will begin to have some 
 glimpses of higher truths." 
 
 The schoolmaster paused for some moments, in order 
 to let his words make their due impression. 
 
 "From which have you suffered mot in life?" re 
 sumed Mr. Long. " From sickness of the body, or aiefc- 
 ness of the mind ?" 
 
 " Sickness of the mind ?" Harding did not clearly 
 apprehend the question ; and the schoolmaster modified 
 it thus 
 
 " I should have said, from pain of body, or pain of 
 mind ?" 
 
 " I ve never had much sickness/ said Harding, beginning 
 to have a dim perception of the schoolmaster s mean! 
 
 " And yet you have suffered deeply. Mentally or hi 
 your spirit you were in great pain only a little while ago." 
 
 "True, very true." The carpenter spoke partly to 
 himself as if new thoughts were coming into distinct 
 perception. " Yes, indeed, I have suffered pain of mind. 
 I always suffer pain of mind. As for bodily sufferir. 
 can bear that ; but mental suffering drives me, at times, 
 almost beside myself." 
 
 "IHd you never think of this before?" asked the 
 schoolmaster; "that is, did you never separate to dis 
 tinctly, in thought, your mind from your body, and tee 
 in each a distinct capacity for pleasure and pain ?" 
 
 " Never. And yet it seems strange how 1 could have 
 failed to do so." 
 
 " If pain of mind is more acute than pain of body," 
 said Mr. Long, "is it not fair to conclude that the mind, 
 or spirit, is capable of far higher pleasures than the 
 
 " Yes, I suppose that it is." 
 
 " Let us take it for granted and this is no difficult 
 matter that God, our Creator, Preserver, and J&> 
 
120 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 deemer, is a Being of infinite benevolence that love is 
 his essential nature : it will follow as a consequence, 
 that he not only desires, but seeks the good of his crea 
 tures. You are one of this number; and one toward 
 whom his heart must be moved with pity, for your spirit 
 has suffered much. Thus far in life, you have known 
 little of the true enjoyment that God desires for all the 
 children of men. Vainly have you sought for pleasure 
 in sensual delights : they have proved only serpents to 
 sting you. What a dark, weary way it has been to 
 you !" 
 
 "Yes, dark as Egypt at times/ muttered the car 
 penter. 
 
 "Let us go back a little," said the schoolmaster. 
 " It is plain, that in the way you have been going, mat 
 ters have not improved much. You are no happier now 
 than you were six months ago." 
 
 " I don t know about that," answered Harding. " I 
 don t know about that. Maybe you may think me 
 foolish, but I can t help it. Since that strange baby 
 came into our family, I have felt like another man. I 
 don t know how it is, but the dear little thing has crept 
 right into my heart, and brought with it something of 
 its pure and gentle nature. The truth is, Mr. Long, 
 I m not the same man I was before Heaven sent that 
 child to my door." 
 
 " Heaven sent it. You have used the right words, 
 neighbour Harding. All good gifts are from Heaven 
 In love to you, God bestowed this blessing ; not to give 
 ease, or comfort, or pleasure to your body, but for the 
 health and joy of your spirit. Ah ! I am glad to hear 
 this confession from your lips. And now let me suggest 
 a thought. May not the disappointment you have suf 
 fered to-day, and which was for a time so bitter, be pro 
 ductive of higher benefits than any you could have re 
 ceived, had all things gone according to your wishes ?" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 121 
 
 tl I do not see your meaning clearly," said the car 
 penter. 
 
 " Our present conversation would otherwise hardl} 
 have occurred/ suggested Mr. Long. 
 
 " No ; I think not." 
 
 " Is it not clear, then ? Think." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," said Harding, in a thought 
 ful manner. " You have certainly filled my mind with 
 new ideas. Come over and see me in the evening some 
 times, won t you ? I d like to talk with you again of 
 these things. They sound strangely and yet my mind 
 assents to them as true." 
 
 " Nothing is truer," replied the schoolmaster, " than 
 that the eyes of God are over all his works, and that he 
 leadeth his erring creatures by ways that they know not, 
 ever seeking to bring them from the darkness of natural 
 evil into the pure light of his truth. And thus he is 
 seeking to lead you, neighbour Harding. Ah ! resist 
 not, but gently yield yourself to the divine guidance. 
 But I have said enough for the present. Yes, I will call 
 over and see you, and if you still find interest in these 
 subjects, we will talk of them again." 
 
 What a change had taken place with the carpenter in 
 the brief space of half an hour ! a change from deep 
 agitation of mind, and a paralyzing distrust, to a calm 
 and hopeful spirit. Not to the fact of work having come 
 from an unexpected quarter, was this chiefly to be as 
 cribed. That was but the foundation, so to speak, on 
 which a higher and juster conception of Providence had 
 been erected. His step was firmer, his head more ele 
 vated, and his countenance marred by fewer lines of 
 care, as h took his way homeward. No shadow fell 
 across the threshold as he entered ; and no heart shrunk 
 with fear at the sound of his voice, that seemed to have 
 found new tones and gentle modulations. 
 11 
 
122 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE schoolmaster s words, only dimly apprehended at 
 first, lingered in the mind of Harding ; and, as he pon 
 dered them, new suggestions came, and new light seemed 
 to break in upon him. There was a higher and better 
 life than the life of the body wants that no natural 
 sources could supply sufferings that no earthly phy 
 sician could alleviate. How clear all this became the 
 longer his mind rested on what his neighbour had said ! 
 and he half wondered that, until now, no perception of 
 such important truths had come to him. 
 
 Happily, all things at home harmonized with the car 
 penter s state of mind on that evening. Andrew he 
 found, on his return, busy over his lesson; Lucy had 
 dear little Grace in her arms; and Lotty and Philip, 
 who rarely disagreed if no one interfered with them, 
 were playing together, and singing to themselves as hap 
 pily as if nothing had ever ruffled the quiet surface of 
 their feelings. The influence of Mr. Long over Andrew, 
 since his particular interest in him had been awakened, 
 and since he had discovered the right avenue by which 
 to reach his feelings, was remarkable. Having secured 
 the good opinion of Mr. Long to have the good opinion 
 of any one was a new experience for the lad Andrew 
 was particularly desirous to retain it. A kind look an 
 approving word what ample rewards were they for all 
 effort and self-denial ! In these he found a pleasure far 
 above any thing that evil indulgence or wrong-doing 
 gave; and, best of all, they left no sad, painful after- 
 consequences. 
 
 11 That s right, Andrew/ said Mr. Harding, ap- 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 123 
 
 provingly, as he came in and saw how the boy was 
 occupied. " It gives me real pleasure to see you study 
 ing your lessons." 
 
 What a glow of delight did these words send to the 
 heart of the boy ! What a beaming smile irradiated his 
 countenance, as he looked up, gratefully, into his father s 
 face ! 
 
 Mr. Harding laid his hand gently upon Andrew s 
 head. The act was involuntary, and sprung from a 
 passing mood of gentler feeling. How the touch 
 thrilled along every nerve in the child s being ! Memory 
 was at fault in her efforts to recall the time when that 
 hand rested upon him in affectionate approval before. 
 Lower bent his head, and closer to his face was the book 
 lifted. None saw that his eyes were suddenly dimmed, 
 and none but he knew that the page before him was 
 wetted by a tear. 
 
 A cry of pleasure from the babe now greeted the ears 
 of Harding j and, in the next moment, Grace was in his 
 arms, and hugged tightly to his heart. At this instant, 
 a shadow fell across the threshold the twilight was 
 already gathering and the strange woman, who had 
 visited them a few weeks previously, stood in the door. 
 Her dark, keen eyes took in the whole scene presented 
 to her at a glance. 
 
 " Q-ood evening, friends," she said, half familiarly, 
 half respectfully ; and, without invitation, she entered. 
 
 " Good evening, madam," returned Harding, ap 
 proaching her by a step or two. Grace had laid her 
 head close against his breast, and was nestling there with 
 a happy, confiding look on her sweet young face. 
 
 " Will you take a chair, madam ?" 
 
 The chair was proffered and accepted. At the same 
 time, the woman laid off her bonnet. 
 
 " You were so kind at my last visit, that I hardly feel 
 like a stranger," said she, as she adjusted her cap, and 
 
124 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 pushed back under it a portion of her black hair, in 
 which gray lines were visible. 
 
 u That dear babe, again," she added, as she fixed her 
 eyes intently on Grace. " I never saw a lovelier crea 
 ture/ 
 
 Mrs. Harding entered, at this moment, from the 
 kitchen, where she had been preparing supper. At 
 sight of the woman, she started, and looked disturbed. 
 
 " Good evening, ma am." 
 
 The stranger fixed her eyes penetratingly upon her. 
 
 " Good evening," was coldly replied. 
 
 " In passing this way again, I could not resist the in 
 clination to call, if for no other reason than to thank you 
 for your former kindness, and -to apologize for my abrupt 
 departure. It was necessary for me to be at Beechwood 
 at a very early hour, and I did not wish to disturb you, 
 or tax your hospitality for an early breakfast." 
 
 The blandness and easy self-possession with which this 
 was said, in a measure overcame the instinctive repug 
 nance of Mrs. Harding. Still, she did not like the 
 woman, and felt ill at ease in her presence. With as 
 good a grace as possible, she bade her welcome. From 
 the woman s manner, it was evidently her intention to 
 remain to supper, and, in all probability, through the 
 night. Indeed, she soon intimated this to the carpenter 
 and his wife, who could do no less than invite her to 
 remain with as much show of cordiality as possible. 
 The object of her visit was matter of little question to 
 them. Too distinct was their remembrance of her con 
 duct on a previous occasion and of the intimations then 
 given by her to leave any room to doubt that she had 
 a personal interest in Grace, and now came solely on 
 this account. 
 
 All eye and all ear was the stranger to every thing 
 that passed in the family of Jacob Harding. The car 
 penter s face she scanned with so close a scrutiny, that 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 125 
 
 he often found his eyes drooping beneath the singular 
 gaze that was fixed upon him. The movements of Mrs. 
 Harding were also closely observed, and not a word 
 passed between the children that she did not weigh its 
 meaning. 
 
 Whether it were from the presence of this dignified 
 stranger, or from the subduing effects of better states of 
 mind, the children were unusually well-behaved and 
 orderly during supper-time. Lucy proposed to wait and 
 be the nurse of Grace during the meal; although her 
 mother said that she could hold the babe and attend the 
 table well enough. 
 
 After supper, the woman succeeded, after many inef 
 fectual attempts, in alluring Grace from Mr. Harding. 
 The little one looked half frightened as she passed to the 
 arms of the stranger, and then immediately reached out 
 her hands to go back. But, being retained, her lips 
 began to curve, and a low murmur of fear was audible. 
 
 " Come back, then, darling !" said the carpenter, 
 lovingly ; and he took her from the woman almost by 
 force. What a happy change was seen instantly in the 
 sweet young face, and with what a manifest joy did the 
 little one shrink to the manly breast, and cling there as 
 if it had found a home of safety ! 
 
 " You love that child ?" said the woman. Her tones 
 were grave, and her proud lips firm. 
 
 " Yes; better than any thing in this world." 
 
 " It is not your own child ?" added the woman. 
 
 " It is mine by the gift of God," said the carpenter, 
 with a depth of feeling in his voice that surprised his 
 auditor. " Some one I do not think she is worthy the 
 name of woman deserted it at our door." 
 
 The woman moved uneasily, and partly averted her 
 face. 
 
 " Abandoned," continued the carpenter, " by her to 
 whom God had given a precious gift, the guardianship 
 11* 
 
126 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 was transferred to us. We have accepted it gladly 
 thankfully. And who will now dare say the child is not 
 ours ? Such words must not be spoken here I" 
 
 The natural warmth of Harding s temperament be 
 trayed him into an indignant vehemence, which caused 
 the woman to shrink back from him a little way, and to 
 look surprised, almost fearful. 
 
 " We cannot hear such words spoken," repeated the 
 carpenter, in a gentler voice. "God sent an angel to 
 our household when he sent this babe; and we have 
 made room for her room for her in our home, and room 
 for her in our hearts." 
 
 The woman sat for some time with her eyes upon the 
 floor. She was evidently in deep thought. 
 
 " Rather say" thus she spoke in a low voice " that 
 God lent her to you lent her, it may be, only for a little 
 while. It is not well to fix the heart too idolizingly 
 upon a child. What if her real mother were to come 
 and claim her at your hands ?" 
 
 11 There is her true mother," said the carpenter, 
 firmly, and he pointed toward his wife. " A woman 
 gave her life, but she gave her love a mother s love. 
 Her real mother ! Madam ! I would spurn from the 
 door the wretch who dared say that she brought into exist 
 ence this sweet young cherub, and then abandoned her 
 to perish, or, mayhap, find an unwelcome home among 
 strangers." 
 
 " Can an evil tree produce good fruit ?" asked the 
 woman, looking at the excited carpenter almost sternly. 
 
 " It is said not," he replied. 
 
 " Could an evil-hearted mother give birth to so angelic 
 a babe ? Think, Mr. Harding." 
 
 " Could a good-hearted woman abandon her nursing 
 infant? Think, madam." 
 
 The woman s glance cowered beneath the steady eyes 
 of the carpenter. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 127 
 
 <( Can a sweet fountain send forth bitter waters ?" 
 The man spoke half to himself. "No no no." 
 
 "State the ease as you will," said the woman, "and 
 the difficulty is the same. Here is a babe in which 
 all goodness seems concentrated I cannot believe, 
 nor can you. that the mother who gave it birth was all 
 evil." 
 
 " Why did she abandon it ?" replied the carpenter. 
 
 " Ah ! there lies the question. Do you know ?" 
 
 " You need not ask." 
 
 " She may not have acted freely. There may have 
 been an array of circumstances that crushed out, for a 
 time, her true life. I can more easily believe this, than 
 that her heart was all evil. The baby in your arms 
 contradicts that assumption." 
 
 " Mercy !" 
 
 This was the startled exclamation of Mrs. Harding, as 
 she arose quickly to her feet. Her eyes were fixed on 
 the door, which had swung slowly open. Every glance 
 followed her own. A beautiful young woman, with face 
 as white as marble, stood there, motionless statue-like. 
 That face the carpenter s wife remembered but too well. 
 She had seen it once before, as it stood out on the back 
 ground of darkness, and every feature was daguerreo- 
 typed on her memory. 
 
 " Edith ! You here ! What madness ! Go ! go !" 
 
 The woman started up, and raising both hands, 
 motioned her energetically to be gone. 
 
 " Baby ! baby ! Oh, my sweet baby !" 
 
 And the young creature bounded forward. Ere the 
 bewildered carpenter had time to recover his self-pos 
 session, she had lifted Grace from his arms, and was 
 hugging her wildly to her heart. 
 
 " Oh baby ! Grace ! Darling !" What a passionate 
 tenderness was in her voice ! " I was wicked, wicked, 
 wicked to give you up ! But you are once more against 
 

 128 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 my heart, and we will live or die together ! Baby ! 
 Sweet one ! Oh ! darling ! darling !" 
 
 She had moved about the room like one half crazed ; 
 but now, as a shower of tears fell over her face, she 
 dropped into a chair, and leaning over the child, which 
 she held close to her bosom, she mingled kisses, sobs, 
 and tears, for some minutes, in a very tempest of 
 emotion. 
 
 Meantime, the elder of the two women showed strong 
 agitation, that was repressed only by a vigorous effort. 
 Now her face was dark with struggling passion; and 
 now so pale and ghastly, that it seemed as if her very 
 life s love were suffering its final assault. As soon as 
 the first bewildering excitement was over, she went up 
 to the young woman, and laying her hand upon her 
 with a firm grasp, said, in a tone of remonstrance 
 
 "What madness has come over you, Edith? G-ive 
 back the child, and come away. It is as well cared for 
 as you or I could desire." 
 
 The other waved her hand with an imperative gesture 
 as she replied 
 
 "It is useless, mother ! My resolve is taken. I will 
 not part with my child. Mine it is mine, born in law 
 ful wedlock, and there is no earthly power strong enough 
 to drag it from my arms. You may turn from me, if 
 you will. You may shut up your heart against me ; but 
 mine shall be open to my child my darling, darling 
 child ! Sweet, sweet baby !" 
 
 And she again hugged it to her heart. 
 
 " The fountain is not dry yet, love," she murmured, 
 in a low, tender voice, as she bared her bosom, and drew 
 the babe s soft face against it. " Drink again drink ! 
 I have kept it open for this hour this hour that my 
 heart told me would come must come. There there. 
 Drink, baby drink. Drink, and G-od bless you !" 
 
 And as the babe commenced drawing sweet life from 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 129 
 
 this fountain of life, the mother s eyes were lifted 
 heavenward. Her cheeks glowed, and a thrill of exqui 
 site joy trembled along every fibre c? her soul. 
 
 "Father," she sobbed, "let my tears and thankful 
 ness for this hour of restoration, obliterate the record 
 that darkens one page of my life s sad history." 
 
 This scene was more than the woman she called her 
 mother could witness unsubdued. Hitherto her impe 
 rious will had ruled her complying child. But nature 
 free nature had now asserted her right, and swept aside 
 all opposing forces. In Edith s heart, the mother s love 
 was stronger than the daughter s fear. 
 
 " Edith, what am I to understand by all this ?" said 
 the woman, speaking with a resolute calmness. 
 
 " That I am ready to give up all for my child." 
 
 " Give up me ?" 
 
 The woman held her breath for an answer. Edith 
 did not reply, but bent lower over her babe, and drew it 
 closer to her heart. 
 
 " Give up me ?" repeated the woman. 
 
 " Mother ! As God liveth, I will keep this child. If 
 you turn from me if you cast me off well; but, as 
 God liveth, I will keep my child ! l! 
 
 For a little while the frame of the other quivered, as 
 if attacked by a sudden ague fit. Then stepping back a 
 pace or two, she stood a few moments irresolute. The 
 door of the adjoining room was partly open. Into this 
 she now passed with a quick movement. A struggle 
 had commenced that she wished to sustain all apart from 
 observation. Nearly ten minutes elapsed before her re 
 appearance. Scarcely a change of position or relation 
 had occurred during her brief absence. Her face was 
 very calm, her step deliberate, and her manner self- 
 possessed, like one who has passed from doubtful ques 
 tionings to a certainty. 
 
130 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Going up to her daughter, she laid her hand again 
 upon her, saying, as she did so 
 
 " Edith, my child !" 
 
 The voice was low, calm, and even tender. 
 
 " Mother !" 
 
 It was the bowed creature s simple response. She did 
 not look up. 
 
 " Edith, I may have erred I know not. If so, it has 
 been for your sake. Love and pride have both been 
 strong. But we will contend no longer. In the future, 
 your own heart must lead you : I will oppose nothing." 
 
 An electric thrill seemed suddenly to awaken the half- 
 dormant sensibilities of the young mother. She looked 
 up with a blending of joy and surprise in her counte 
 nance. 
 
 11 What do I hear? Speak the words again." 
 
 " We will contend no longer, Edith. In the future, 
 your own heart must lead you : I will oppose nothing." 
 
 The eyes of Edith closed as she leaned her head back 
 against her mother, whose arm now clasped her. How 
 placid was her pale young face ! how soft, and tender, 
 and loving the sweet lips just parting with a smile ! 
 
 11 You have made me happy. Can a mother ask more 
 for her child ?" 
 
 It was all she said; but the words went trembling 
 down into the agitated heart of that strong, self-willed 
 woman of the world, and accomplished their mission. 
 
 A kiss long and fervent sealed the reconciliation 
 and new compact. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 131 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHILE this scene was passing, little Lotty had crept 
 into her mother s lap, and was lying with her head close 
 against her bosom. Since Grace came among them, 
 Lotty had found a new pleasure. She never tired of 
 being with the babe, and the babe never seemed happier 
 than when Lotty was bending over her, and talking to 
 her in a language that only they understood. 
 
 " Is she going to take Grace away from us ?" she 
 whispered two or three -times to her mother, as she 
 looked on wonderingly, yet with an instinct of the 
 truth. 
 
 Mrs. Harding did not reply, for she could not ; but, 
 at each renewal of the question, her arm drew, with an 
 involuntary pressure, the little one closer to her breast. 
 
 " Fll be your little Grace, mother/ 
 
 These words, so unexpected, thrilled a new chord in 
 her heart. 
 
 " Grace is so sweet and so good," she answered, more 
 from impulse than thought. The words were scarcely 
 uttered, ere she felt that they were spoken unwisely. 
 
 " I will try to be good." 
 
 There was a pleading softness in Lotty s tones that 
 touched the mother s sensibilities. She was asking for a 
 love, deeper, purer, truer than she had ever known- 
 such a love as she had seen given to another. 
 
 " I will try to be good, mother. I will try to be like 
 Grace. But they won t take her away, will they, 
 mother?" 
 
 " I hope not, dear." 
 
 " If they do, mother, shan t I be your little Grace ?" 
 
132 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Yes, if you will be good, like Grace/ 
 
 "I can t be good just like her. But I ll try, mother. 
 And you won t scold me so, will you, mother? Talk to 
 me sweet and good, just as you talk to Grace won t you, 
 mother?" 
 
 And now the child s arms were stealing around the 
 neck of Mrs. Harding, and her eyes were looking up 
 into her face, pleading and filled with tears. 
 
 What language could have been more rebuking, more 
 softening, more subduing? It penetrated to the very 
 inmost of her consciousness. Her only answer was a 
 strong embrace. How her heart enlarged toward Lotty ! 
 
 " You will love me, mother, if I m good ?" 
 
 The child was not satisfied with mere dumb show. 
 
 " Oh yes, my dear one !" answered Mrs. Harding, in a 
 voice whose tenderness satisfied the heart of Lotty. " I 
 will love you. Be a good little girl, and I will love you 
 just as well as I love Grace." 
 
 t( I will be so good, mother," murmured the happy 
 little one, as she hid her face, and wept for very joy. 
 
 Thus she was lying, when the elder of the twc 
 strangers, turning from her daughter, between whom and 
 herself so singular a reconciliation had taken place, said, 
 addressing Mr. Harding in a calm voice 
 
 " My friend, there was a meaning in the words I 
 spoke a little while ago, that went beyond my own 
 thoughts. This young woman the mother of Grace 
 is my child. I did not expect her here this evening 
 nothing could have been farther from my anticipations. 
 I knew that she was almost dying to see her child to 
 have it again in her arms, and I feared that its restora 
 tion might become necessary. Why she abandoned it at 
 your door, cannot now be explained ; neither can we re 
 veal who we are, or where we came from. That secret, 
 for the present, must remain with ourselves. Enough, 
 that the child is ours, and now returns to its true home 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 133 
 
 and its true mother. You and your excellent wife will 
 never be forgotten. My daughter has a heart that can 
 feel gratitude bad as you have pronounced her and 
 this you will, ere long, know. Let me ask of you one 
 thing, and that is, silence as to the occurrences of this 
 evening." 
 
 The carpenter sat with his eyes upon the floor, during 
 all the time that the woman was speaking. 
 
 As she ceased, he arose, and crossing the room, stood 
 before the young woman, who still held Grace in her 
 arms. 
 
 .Reaching out his hands, and smiling, he said, in a 
 voice of tender persuasion 
 
 " Come, Grace come, love come." 
 
 The little one lifted her head from the woman s 
 breast, bent toward the carpenter, and smiled, in return, 
 one of her sweetest, most loving smiles. The woman in 
 stantly drew the child back, while a shade of fear went 
 over her countenance. 
 
 " Don t be alarmed, madam," said the carpenter, in a 
 respectful voice. " If she will come, let her come. You 
 may take her again. Grace, darling ! Sweet one ! 
 Come !" 
 
 Again the babe raised herself up, and leaned toward 
 the carpenter. Again she smiled sweetly, fluttered her 
 tiny hands, and seemed anxious to get into his arms. 
 He reached out for her ] but just as she seemed ready to 
 spring to him, her eyes wandered up to the loving face, 
 so full of unutterable tenderness, that bent over her; 
 and then she fell back upon the bosom she knew to be 
 her mother s. 
 
 A shadow darkened on the carpenter s face. 
 
 " Come, darling I" he repeated, extending his hands. 
 
 She lifted her head again, stretched out her arms, and 
 in the next instant was tightly clasped to the carpenter s 
 bosom. 
 
 12 
 
134 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Heaven bless you, sweet one ! Bless you ! bless 
 you ! An angel of love you have been to us all ! How 
 can we give you up ? Oh ! no, no ! It must not be ! 
 God gave you to us ; and shall we let any but the death- 
 angel take you away ?" 
 
 The mother had started to her feet, and was now 
 moving by the side of Harding, as he paced about the 
 room, her face full of alarm and anxiety. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! give me back my babe I" she cried, in a 
 voice of deep supplication. " Grace ! Darling ! Come 
 to your mother !" 
 
 Harding paused, and, by an effort, repressed the 
 strong upheaving of emotion. As he relaxed the tight 
 clasp of his arms, the little one raised her head, and now 
 reached out her hands toward her mother. 
 
 " Go back, then," he said, kissing her tenderly. " Go 
 back. I cannot say nay, if it is in both your hearts." 
 
 As Grace returned, with a baby murmur of joy, to her 
 mother s arms, the carpenter s strength seemed to leave 
 him, and he sunk into a chair, where for some time he 
 remained, with his head drooped upon his breast. From 
 this state he was aroused by hearing the elder of the two 
 women say, addressing her daughter 
 
 " You came in the carriage ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " How far is it away ?" 
 
 "About a quarter of a mile, on the road to Beech- 
 wood." 
 
 " It is growing late. We must leave here." 
 
 " You will not leave to-night ?" said Harding, as he 
 arose and came forward. 
 
 " Oh yes; we must go," was answered. 
 
 "To that I cannot consent" the carpenter spoke 
 firmly "unless you go alone." 
 
 " Alone I" 
 
 The mother of Grace looked frightened. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 135 
 
 " Yes alone. Did you think, for an instant, that I 
 would stand passive and see her taken away by strangers, 
 no matter what their claim ? If so, you have mistaken 
 Jacob Harding. Who are you ? Where do you live ? 
 These are questions that must be fully answered." 
 
 There was a manly dignity about the carpenter that, 
 compelled respect, and a firmness of manner that showed 
 him to be entirely in earnest. 
 
 The two women looked at each other with troubled 
 glances. 
 
 " You shall know all in good time/ said the elder. 
 
 "Now is the good time/ was answered. "Believe 
 me, when I say, that I love that babe too well, to trust 
 her even with her mother, when all the past is con 
 sidered, unless I know where to find that mother. I 
 must hold you both to a higher responsibility than your 
 own consciences." 
 
 " What is to be done ?" almost sobbed the distressed 
 young woman. " Oh that I were once more at home 
 with my babe ! Kind sir" and she turned to the car 
 penter with a pleading look " do let us go. I have the 
 means of being generous to you, and I will be generous. 
 Gratitude for your kindness to my child has already 
 suggested ample benefits. Oh, sir ! withdraw your opposi 
 tion. There are reasons why we desire to remain for 
 the present unknown. Say that we may leave, and I 
 will never cease to ask for you Heaven s choicest 
 blessings." 
 
 " It cannot be," said the carpenter, with unwavering 
 firmness. " That child never leaves here unless I know 
 all about those who take her away. Rely upon it, 
 nothing will turn me from this purpose." 
 
 The two women now communed with each other, 
 apart, for some minutes. The elder then approached 
 Harding, and said 
 
 " My name is Hartley ; and I live in Overton." 
 
136 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 There was an unsteadiness of voice and eye as she 
 spoke, that did not escape the carpenter s notice. 
 
 " It will not do," replied Harding, shaking his head. 
 
 "What will do, then?" exclaimed the woman, in a 
 quick, demanding voice. 
 
 Her whole manner changed. The fretted will, so used 
 to reaching its purposes in spite of all hinderances, could 
 tamely brook this opposition no longer. 
 
 Five times did Jacob Harding pace the room backward 
 and forward before answering. Then pausing before the 
 woman, who had remained standing, he said 
 
 " One thing I have fully decided." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 The woman spoke eagerly. 
 
 " That Grace does not leave here to-night." 
 
 " Oh sir, don t say that !" cried the younger of the two 
 strangers. Her pale face blanched whiter. 
 
 " I have said it, and will not change," answered the 
 carpenter. " You can both remain if you will. We will 
 give you the best accommodations our poor abode can 
 offer. As for me, I want time to consider this matter. 
 It is far too weighty to receive a hurried decision. I 
 must have a night s sleep upon it." 
 
 "Oh, for patience !" exclaimed the elder of the 
 women. " You may repent this, sir ! You know not 
 whose will you are thwarting." 
 
 " I confess my ignorance," said Harding, with a 
 shade of irony in his voice ; " and therefore it is that I 
 hesitate, and choose to act with circumspection." 
 
 " We cannot remain here to-night. , Impossible !" 
 
 " Very well. You will find us all here to-morrow, or 
 the day after." 
 
 Seeing that Harding was not to be moved, the two 
 women drew together in a distant part of the room, and 
 remained in whispered conversation for a long time. 
 
 " My daughter cannot be induced to leave her child," 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 137 
 
 said the mother, as she left Edith, and came forward to 
 where Harding was now seated by his wife. " She will, 
 therefore, remain, at least, until to-morrow. Then, I 
 trust, you will permit her to depart with her babe. 
 Further hinderance on your part will be cruelty. Think 
 of what she has already suffered, and spare her further 
 anguish. As for me, I will go to-night." 
 
 " You are welcome to stay, if it so please you," re 
 turned the carpenter. 
 
 " My daughter s health has been feeble for some 
 time," said the woman, t( and she is now quite overcome 
 by fatigue and excitement. If you will let her retire 
 early, she will take it as a kindness." 
 
 Mrs. Harding arose at this time, and laying the now 
 sleeping Lotty in her father s arms, passed from the 
 room. In a few minutes she returned, and said the 
 chamber was ready, if the lady wished to retire. The 
 mother and her daughter went in together, and shut the 
 door behind them. Mrs. Harding intended to enter 
 the room also, but the door closed so quickly, that she 
 was left without. For a moment or two she stood con 
 fused and undecided. Then turning to her husband, 
 she said 
 
 "Jacob, what is to be done? How can we give her 
 up ?" 
 
 " We will not, unless we know more of these persons 
 than wo now do," replied Harding. 
 
 " It is her mother," said Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " Yes ; that is plain. But who and what is she ?" 
 
 " If we only knew." 
 
 " We must know." Harding spoke firmly. " Not 
 until I have the fullest intelligence in regard to them, 
 will I consent to let them have the child. Hark ! what 
 is that ?" 
 
 The carpenter listened. 
 
 " What do you hear ?" 
 
 12* 
 
138 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Mrs. Harding was startled by her husband s manner. 
 
 " I thought I heard a noise." 
 
 " What was it like ?" 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 Both listened for some moments. 
 
 " Where was it ?" 
 
 <( I can t tell whether it was in the house or out doors. 
 It was nothing, probably. I m excited." 
 
 Still they listened in a kind of breathless suspense. 
 
 " I wonder if they have fastened that door : they are 
 very still," said the carpenter. 
 
 Mrs. Harding stepped lightly to the door, and tried 
 the lock. 
 
 " It is fastened," she whispered back. 
 
 "They must have turned the bolt very silently," re 
 marked Harding. " Suppose you knock, and ask if 
 they want any thing/ 
 
 Mrs. Harding tapped gently. There was no answer 
 She tapped again, but louder. Still all remained silent 
 within. She now rattled the lock, and called to the in 
 mates. The answer was fruitless : no answer to her 
 summons was returned. 
 
 "I don t like this," said Harding, starting up, and 
 advancing to the door, against which he threw his body 
 with a force that broke the fastenings within. As the 
 door swung open, his eyes rested upon the open window. 
 In an instant, all was comprehended. Flinging the 
 sleeping child he held in his arms upon the untumbled 
 bed, he sprung through the open window, and disap 
 peared in the darkness. 
 
 " A quarter of a mile from here, on the road to Beech- 
 wood." He remembered these words, and ran swiftly in 
 that direction, hoping to overtake the fugitives. The 
 sky was overclouded, and the night intensely dark. In 
 vain the eye sought to penetrate the thick vail of sha 
 dows. For more than half a mile, Harding pursued his 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 139 
 
 way toward Beechwood, and then stopped, with a heart- 
 sickeuing consciousness that longer search in that direc 
 tion was hopeless, lleturning with rapid steps, he swept 
 around in a wide circle, vainly seeking for the two 
 women who had disappeared so noiselessly, taking with 
 them the dear angel of the household. But all was of no 
 avail. Under cover of the darkness, they had effected 
 their escape. After an hour spent in fruitless search, 
 he came back, looking pale and distressed. To the eager 
 questionings of his tearful wife, he only answered 
 
 " Gone ! gone ! and not a trace of them left behind !" 
 dropping into a chair as he spoke, and trembling from 
 exhaustion of body and mind. 
 
 " Oh, Jacob ! Jacob I" It was all the heart-stricken 
 wife could say, as she leaned over him, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Mary," said the carpenter, after he had grown 
 calmer, " I have never had any thing to hurt me like 
 this. It seems almost as if a hand were grasping my 
 heart, and striving to tear it from my breast. Dear 
 baby ! And to lose her thus ! I cannot bear it, Mary !" 
 
 " If we only knew where she was , if we could go to 
 her sometimes/ sobbed Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " If she had died and passed up into heaven," said the 
 carpenter. "But to be stolen from us, and taken, we 
 know not where, perhaps to be abandoned again, and to 
 suffer, who can tell, what cruel treatment ! Oh ! the 
 thought drives me half distracted." 
 
 " I do not think, Jacob, that her mother will part 
 with her again. She loves her child too deeply. My 
 heart ached, as I looked at her, to think of what she 
 must have borne since she tore it from her bosom, and 
 left it at our door. I wonder that she was not bereft of 
 reason. For her sake, I will try to bear the pain I feel. 
 Oh ! if I only knew that all would be well with the 
 babe." 
 
 "That I must know, Mary," replied the carpenter, 
 
140 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 with regained firmness. " The woman said her name 
 was Hartley, and that they lived at Overton. This may 
 be true or false ; but to Overton I will go early in the 
 morning. If the statement prove false, so much is 
 settled, and I can turn with more confidence my eyes in 
 another direction. Of one thing I am certain they do 
 not live very far from Beechwood." 
 
 As best they could, the carpenter and his wife sought 
 to console each other, and, in the act, drew closer to 
 gether in heart, and felt a mutual sympathy. How de 
 serted the house seemed to them ! and their chamber, 
 when they retired for the night, felt lonely and cheer 
 less. If the baby had died, and, a little while before, 
 been carried forth from that room to its mortal resting- 
 place, the feeling of sadness and desolation that op 
 pressed them could not have been stronger. Sleep did 
 not visit their pillows early. They were kept awake by 
 thoughts of the sweet babe that had so grown into their 
 hearts, that it seemed a part of their life. But, at last, 
 their heavy eyelids closed, and then this dream came to 
 Mrs. Harding : 
 
 She was sitting in her own chamber, with an infant 
 lying close against her bosom. It had soft, brown, 
 silken hair, curling in glossy circles about its forehead 
 and temples, and eyes down into whose blue depths she 
 gazed until it seemed that heaven was opening to her 
 vision. It was not Grace not the angel babe whose 
 coming and going were shrouded in mystery but a new 
 gift to her mother s heart. Full of love and joy she 
 bent over the lovely innocent, while her spirit uplifted 
 itself in thankfulness for a boon so precious. As she sat 
 thus, a pale, sweet-faced woman entered, also clasping 
 an infant in her arms. She knew them both at a 
 glance the mother of Grace, with her newly-regained 
 treasure in her arms. Coming up slowly to Mrs. Hard 
 ing, she stood, for some moments, gazing upon her 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 141 
 
 with a tendeBgunile. Then her lips parted with the 
 words 
 
 " Our household angels !" 
 
 A thrill of such exquisite pleasure went through the 
 sleeper s mind, that she awoke. Lotty was in her arms, 
 and she drew her to her heart with a feeling of maternal 
 tenderness deeper than she had ever known for her 
 child. 
 
 " I ll be your little Grace, mother." 
 
 The words seemed spoken in her ears again, and she 
 raised herself up to see if Lotty were not really waking. 
 But no : Lotty was in the world of dreams. 
 
 "Bless you, my baby!" murmured Mrs. Harding, as 
 she laid her lips against the warm cheek of the sleeper. 
 " You shall be my little Grace." 
 
 " Dear mother ! I will be good if you will love me." 
 
 She was dreaming. 
 
 Gathering her little one closer in her arms, Mrs. 
 Harding lifted her voice to heaven, and prayed that she 
 might be to her children a true mother. And her 
 prayer, rising from an earnest, yearning heart, did not 
 return to her fruitless. 
 
142 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " QUICK !" ejaculated the elder of the two women, as 
 she closed the door of the little chamber into which the 
 carpenter s wife had shown them, and slipped the bolt 
 silently. Gliding past her half-bewildered daughter, she 
 raised the window, which opened only a few feet from 
 the ground, and springing out with the agility of a girl, 
 was ready to help Edith through the narrow way of 
 egress they had chosen. 
 
 " Quick ! quick ! Step lightly." 
 
 And the mother drew her arm around the slender 
 form of Edith, and bore her onward as if she had been 
 only a child. Sweeping around the house, the two wo 
 men gained the road that passed only at a short distance 
 from the door, and then pressed forward, as fast as the 
 darkness would permit, in the direction of Beechwood. 
 They were only a short distance away from the car 
 penter s dwelling, when the young woman said, in a 
 voice of alarm 
 
 "Hark! What is that?" 
 
 Both paused to listen, and instantly became aware, by 
 the sound of swiftly approaching footsteps, that they 
 were pursued. 
 
 "0 mother! what shall we do?" said Edith, in a 
 frightened voice. 
 
 Her companion answered not, but passing an arm 
 around her waist, drew her off from the road to a clump 
 of bushes that opportunely offered a place of concealment. 
 Behind this they crouched just in time to hide their 
 figures, which, from portions of white in their garments, 
 would, in all probability, have attracted the eyes of 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 145 
 
 Harding, whom they doubted not to be the individual 
 approaching with such hasty speed. He passed within 
 only a few feet of them so near, that his muttered 
 words reached their ears. 
 
 " Come/ said the elder of the women, as soon as 
 Harding s heavy footsteps sounded faint in the distance. 
 
 "Not that way," objected her daughter. 
 
 " Why not ?" was sharply inquired. 
 
 " He has just passed." 
 
 " Is not the carriage in this direction ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Concealed in the woods ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He will not find it, but we must. Come ! In this 
 deep darkness lies our safety. Here give me the 
 child." 
 
 " No no." 
 
 And Edith resisted the attempts of her mother to get 
 possession of Grace. 
 
 " Why don t you give her to me ? Foolish girl ! I am 
 stronger than you," said the woman. 
 
 "She is as light as a feather in my arms," replied 
 Edith, who still kept hold of the babe. " You lead the 
 way, and I will follow as fast as you desire." 
 
 The woman, with a slight murmur of impatience, gave 
 up the brief contest, and moved on again in the direction 
 taken by the carpenter, her daughter following close in 
 her footsteps. Stopping every little while to listen, and 
 then pressing on, the two fugitives continued their way 
 for about ten minutes, when Edith said 
 
 " This is the place, mother. I told Mark to wait for 
 me in the woods, off to the left." 
 
 Leaving the road, the two women sought for the car 
 riage, but, to their dismay, it was nowhere to be found. 
 
 " Are you certain about the place, Edith ?" 
 
 Edith was very certain in the beginning, but the 
 
144 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 darkness was so bewildering, that her mind began to 
 waver. 
 
 " I think it was here, mother." 
 
 " Edith ! and so much at stake !" exclaimed her 
 companion, rebukingly. " When will you learn to 
 rightly guard the future ?" 
 
 " The darkness is so deep," said Edith. 
 
 " You should have thought of that, and taken a closer 
 observation. What are we to do ?" 
 
 " Mark: !" called Edith. 
 
 " Hush ! Mad girl ! Your voice may reach other 
 ears than his." 
 
 " Listen !" Edith spoke in a quick, eager tone. 
 
 What is that ?" 
 
 " It is the carriage, thank God !" 
 
 And the excited young creature leaned her head 
 against her mother, and sobbed violently. Her voice 
 had reached the coachman, who was only a short dis 
 tance from where they were standing, and his horses 
 were in motion. But a few moments elapsed before the 
 two women were in the carriage. 
 
 " Home, Mark home !" whispered the mother, " and 
 as swift as our horses feet will take us." 
 
 " It is very dark, ma am," answered the coachman. 
 
 "You know the road, Mark," was the brief and signi 
 ficant answer. 
 
 For a few minutes the carriage crept along almost 
 noiselessly, until the road was fairly gained ; then, at a 
 word from Mark, the horses sprung away at a speed that 
 satisfied even the impatient riders. 
 
 For nearly two hours this speed was maintained, and 
 then the foaming horses were turned into a wooded lane 
 that wound up to a fine old mansion, around which clus 
 tered many evidences of wealth, taste, and aristocratic 
 pride. Into this the two women passed, and here, for 
 the present, we will leave them. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 145 
 
 The morning that broke after that eventful night, 
 found Mr. and Mrs. Harding in trouble, grief, and great 
 perplexity of mind. A tearful vail was over their whole 
 household. Not one of the inmates but grieved after 
 dear little Grace, with a sorrow that knew no words of 
 comfort no ray of consolation. All questioned, but 
 there was none who could answer. 
 
 " What shall we do ?" 
 
 That was the doubtful inquiry of the carpenter and his 
 wife, asked often of each other, and answered only by 
 troubled looks. 
 
 " Shall we at once make it known to the neighbour 
 hood ?" asked Harding. " This it is necessary for us 
 speedily to determine. The child will be missed, sooner 
 or later, when we shall have to account satisfactorily for 
 its absence." 
 
 " Suppose you see Mr. Long, and ask his advice, 7 
 said Mrs. Harding. " He is a good man, and discreet." 
 
 " Well suggested, Mary," said the carpenter. " I will 
 see him without a moment s delay." 
 
 But even the schoolmaster failed to see the matter 
 clearly on its first presentation. To bruit the whole 
 thing abroad, might prove a serious error ; but, in what 
 way, a total ignorance of the parties concerned left alto 
 gether in doubt. It was plain that they had acted with 
 a desperation which only the gravest considerations could 
 justify. The crime of having abandoned an infant in 
 volved the deepest disgrace, and it was no cause of won 
 der that they sought to escape the penalty. On the 
 other hand, the absence of the babe from the family of 
 Harding would not fail to attract attention, and the 
 neighbours would have a clear right to demand an ex 
 planation of the fact. 
 
 " What had we best do, Mr. Long?" 
 
 This was the earnest question of Harding, at the con 
 clusion of his conference with the schoolmaster. 
 13 
 
146 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Say nothing to any one else, at least for to-day," 
 was the answer. "I will testify, if necessary, to the 
 fact that you came to me, and related the whole of the 
 strange circumstance, and that I advised you to keep 
 silent for a day or two, while you made earnest search 
 for the parties who carried off the child. My word, I 
 am sure, will be all that is needed to screen you from 
 suspicion of wrong." 
 
 " I am very sure of that, Mr. Long, and will do as 
 you suggest," replied the carpenter. "And now, my 
 first search must be made in the neighbourhood of Over- 
 ton, although I have little hope of finding them there. 
 I saw deception in the woman s unsteady eyes, when she 
 mentioned this as her place of residence. One step 
 brings us to the point from which the next can be taken. 
 I will regard this as the first step in a search that must 
 not be fruitless." 
 
 " And it will not be fruitless, I trust," said the school 
 master, as Harding turned from him, and went back 
 home to advise his wife of the conclusion to which he 
 had arrived, after consulting with Mr. Long. 
 
 Mounted on a good horse, the carpenter was soon on 
 his way to Overton, a small town some two miles beyond 
 Beechwood. A widow lady, with whom he had some 
 acquaintance, resided there, and at her house he alighted 
 on reaching the village. After the customary greetings, 
 and brief questions about family matters, Harding said 
 
 " Do you know a lady, in Overton, by the name of 
 Hartley?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! very well," was the answer. 
 
 "With what a strong throb did the heart of the car 
 penter bound at this reply, so little expected ! 
 
 " Is she an elderly lady ?" he next inquired. 
 
 " She is past the middle age : yet no one would call 
 her old." 
 
 Where does she live ?" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 147 
 
 The woman took him to the door, and pointed to a fine 
 old mansion, almost hidden by majestic elms, that stood 
 not far from her dwelling. 
 
 " Has she a daughter ?" 
 
 " Yes ; an only daughter." 
 
 " Grown up ?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 "The person I wish to see," said the carpenter; 
 "and as my business is somewhat urgent, I must bid 
 you good morning." 
 
 Turning almost abruptly from the woman, he sprung 
 into his saddle, and galloped away in the direction of 
 Mrs. Hartley s, his mind already strongly excited in anti 
 cipation of an interview, the termination of which in 
 volved so much, and was yet so full of uncertainty. 
 Passing from the public road into a gravelled lane, lined 
 on each side by tastefully cut cedars, he advanced toward 
 a beautiful dwelling, around which was every thing to in 
 dicate the possession of a cultivated taste by the owner, 
 and wealth for its gratification. But at these external 
 beauties he scarcely glanced. Too deeply was he ab 
 sorbed by thoughts of the approaching interview. 
 
 Dismounting and fastening his horse, Harding ad 
 vanced to the hall-door, and lifting the heavy knocker, 
 brought it down with a strong hand. The sound rever 
 berated loudly within. In a few moments, a servant 
 answered his summons. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Hartley at home?" asked the carpenter. 
 The suspense from which he was now suffering made hi3 
 voice falter. 
 
 " She is," was the quiet answer. 
 
 "Can I see her?" 
 
 "Will you walk in?" said the servant, politely. 
 
 The carpenter entered, and was shown into one of the 
 elegantly furnished parlours. 
 
 " What name shall I say ?" 
 
148 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Harding was about to give a wrong name, but his 
 quickened moral sense instantly objected, and he said 
 
 " No matter. Say that I wish particularly to see her." 
 
 The servant hesitated for a few moments, and then left 
 the apartment. Soon the rustle of a lady s garments was 
 heard on the stairs. Harding arose to his feet, involun 
 tarily, and stood almost holding his breath. A tall, dig 
 nified, middle-aged woman, with a mild countenance, 
 presented herself. It was not her of whom the excited 
 man was in search. The lady bowed, as she entered, 
 and said 
 
 " My name is Mrs. Hartley/ 7 
 
 Not the Mrs. Hartley I wish to see," replied the car 
 penter, in a tone that betrayed the depth of his disap 
 pointment. 
 
 " I know no other by my name," the lady answered. 
 " You seem to be under some mistake, sir. Perhaps, if 
 you explain yourself, I may be able to set you right. 
 Will you not be seated ?" 
 
 As Harding resumed his chair, he said 
 
 "A woman was at my house last night it is the 
 second time she has called there who told me that she 
 lived in Overton, and that her name was Mrs. Hartley." 
 
 "Ah!" The lady was surprised. "What kind of a 
 looking woman was she ?" 
 
 "In person, near your size, and, to all appearance, 
 near your age." 
 
 The lady s face flushed. 
 
 " Near my size and age ?" 
 
 " Yes," ma am ; but, in countenance, you bear no re 
 semblance," said the carpenter. 
 
 " And she said her name was Hartley, and that she 
 resided at Overton ?" 
 
 " She did ; but I questioned, in my own mind, her 
 truthfulness at the time. Ah ! how cruelly have I been 
 deceived 1" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 149 
 
 t( Deceived ! In what way, sir ?" asked the lady. 
 
 " Pardon me," said the carpenter, " if I decline an ex 
 planation : the reasons are imperative/ 
 
 " You are the best judge of that. And yet, as my 
 name has been used in so strange a manner, it seems 
 only right that I should be made acquainted, at least in 
 some degree, with the occasion of such an unwarrantable 
 liberty. Can you describe the woman to me ?" 
 
 Harding gave as accurate a description as possible of 
 the person of whom he was in search. 
 
 " Did you observe a mole on her right cheek ?" asked 
 the lady. 
 
 " Oh yes, madam ! I remember that distinctly," said 
 the carpenter, starting to his feet. " Tell me ! Do you 
 know her ?" 
 
 " And she said her name was Hartley ?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " And that she lived at Overton ?" 
 
 " Her words, as my visit here attests." 
 
 " A very singular statement," said the lady. 
 
 " Oh, madam ! tell me if you know her : do not keep 
 me in suspense," urged the carpenter, growing more 
 excited. 
 
 " I cannot imagine the reason of such singular con 
 duct." The lady spoke to herself. " Grave her name as 
 Mrs. Hartley ! What does it mean ? There is some 
 mystery here," she added, addressing the carpenter j 
 tl and as my name has become connected with it, I have 
 a right to ask for explanation. For what purpose did 
 this woman come to your house ?" 
 
 " From the description I have given, do you identify 
 her?" asked Harding. 
 
 " I do, clearly." 
 
 The carpenter struck his hands together, exclaiming 
 
 " So inuclr gained ! so much gained ! Oh ; madam ! 
 tell me where I can find her !" 
 13* 
 
150 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Not unless I know why you are in search of her. If 
 you will not trust me, neither will I trust you/ replied 
 the lady, firmly. 
 
 Deeply perplexed was the carpenter again. He saw 
 that the woman was right ; and yet he was as much in 
 doubt respecting her, as she was respecting him. It was 
 plain that she knew the persons who had carried off the 
 child ; but what good or evil might flow from a revela 
 tion of the strange facts connected with them, she was 
 unable to divine. 
 
 " Does she live in Overton ?" he asked, hoping to gain 
 some admission. 
 
 "I shall communicate nothing," said Mrs. Hartley, 
 " unless I know the ground of your inquiries. If, as I 
 said before, you will not trust me, I will not trust you." 
 
 " We never know how far it is safe to trust an entire 
 stranger," remarked Harding. 
 
 " Very true ; and that ia my reason for not giving in 
 formation to a stranger, of whose object I am entirely 
 ignorant." 
 
 tl Will you answer me these questions ?" The carpenter 
 spoke in an anxious tone. " Is the lady in good social 
 standing ? And is she known as virtuous and honour 
 able r 
 
 " I can answer you freely. She is in good standing, 
 and I have never heard any thing against her of so grave 
 a nature as this that you now allege the assumption of 
 rny name. This, sir, is a most serious allegation. The 
 wherefore must involve something more serious still." 
 
 " That it certainly drfes," said the carpenter. " And 
 this being so, it is but just toward her that I should 
 keep my own counsel until I see her face to face. That 
 she desires secrecy, is apparent in the fact, that she has 
 misled me by assuming a name that belongs to another. 
 Ah, madam ! if you would only give nnPthe informa 
 tion I seek !" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 151 
 
 The lady mused for some time; then, shaking her 
 head, she answered 
 
 " I cannot meet your wishes." 
 
 Harding sighed deeply. Rising, he moved toward the 
 door of the apartment, his face, strongly marked by dis 
 appointment. 
 
 " May I ask your address ?" said Mrs. Hartley. 
 
 It was given without hesitation. 
 
 " Your errand here this morning is a very singular 
 one, Mr. Harding," remarked the lady, evidently unwill 
 ing to have him depart, without some disclosure of facts 
 about which her curiosity was in no small degree excited. 
 " Is it not possible for us so far to trust each other, as to 
 impart the information each desires ?" 
 
 "Not at present, I fear/ answered the carpenter. 
 " Too many grave considerations force themselves upon 
 my mind, and enjoin circumspection. But of one thing 
 I can assure you : I shall not long remain in this sus 
 pense. Should the search of to-day not prove successful, 
 you will see me in the morning perhaps this evening, 
 when, to gain the information I desire, I will disclose 
 what now discretion warns me to conceal." 
 
 Bowing to the lady, who made no further effort to de 
 tain him, Harding withdrew, and, mounting his horse, 
 rode off at a quick pace. It was not his purpose, now, 
 to make further search in this direction. First, he 
 wished to consult with Mr. Long, and get his advice as 
 to the propriety of disclosing to Mrs. Hartley the facts of 
 the previous evening, in order to get the information so 
 much desired. And so, turning his horse s head home 
 ward, he pressed the animal to his utmost speed. 
 
152 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IMMEDIATELY on his return from Overton, the car 
 penter went to see Mr. Long. 
 
 " One step taken in the right direction," said the 
 schoolmaster, after Harding had finished his narration 
 of what passed between him and Mrs. Hartley. 
 
 " But what of the next ?" asked Harding. " That is 
 the question I am unable to answer. A wrong step may 
 involve most serious consequences. The parties in this 
 strange and disgraceful business evidently occupy a high 
 social position, and are exceedingly anxious to remain 
 unknown. If I reveal all to Mrs. Hartley, in order to 
 gain the information I seek, it may be the cause of an 
 irreparable injury. The mother of Grace has, it is 
 plain, acted under an influence from her imperious 
 mother that she was unable to resist; and the latter, 
 moved by family pride, or some other strong considera 
 tion, has taken an extreme step, the knowledge of which, 
 if it get on the wings of common report, must ruin her 
 in the good opinion of every one." 
 
 "It is but just," remarked the schoolmaster, "to 
 weigh every thing with the nicest care, where so much 
 is involved. I think you were altogether right in with 
 holding from Mrs. Hartley the information she asked, 
 and I cannot blame her for being equally discreet." 
 
 " But what step can next be taken ? I have not a 
 single clue by which to trace out the fugitives. They 
 escaped in the darkness, and left no sign of their de 
 parture." 
 
 " Did not the young woman say something about her 
 carriage being near at hand, on the road to Beech wood T 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 153 
 
 " Yes. She said it was a quarter of a mile away." 
 
 "It might be worth your while/ said the school 
 master, " to examine the ground, a little off from the 
 road, and see if you can find the mark of wheels. The 
 carriage, most probably, was withdrawn from the public 
 way, in order to escape observation." 
 
 " Of what use will it be ?" said the carpenter. 
 
 " Possibly, the direction taken may be ascertained." 
 
 Harding shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " Very small indications are sufficient often to lead to 
 important results," remarked the schoolmaster. " When 
 we are altogether in the dark, we accept the feeblest ray, 
 and hail it gladly, as the harbinger of approaching light. 
 But some other course may have suggested itself to your 
 mind." 
 
 Harding shook his head, saying 
 
 " I am, to use your own words, altogether in the dark. 
 Not a single beam of light is on the way before me." 
 
 " Then do as I suggest, my friend." 
 
 "I very seriously doubt," said the carpenter, "the 
 the truth of what they said about the carriage being in 
 the direction of Beechwood. I followed them quickly, 
 but saw nothing of either them or the carriage, although 
 I kept on for at least half a mile." 
 
 11 The carriage was, of course, withdrawn from the 
 road, and concealed from view. I do not wonder at 
 your not seeing it. The women, most probably, heard 
 you coming after them, and hid behind some sheltering 
 object, until you passed. The distance you went gave 
 them an opportunity to gain the vehicle, and make their 
 escape. As you did not meet the carriage on returning, 
 the inference is plain, that the direction taken was not 
 toward Beechwood. Now, if you can only find where it 
 turned off from the road, and can thence follow the 
 wheel-marks to the place of concealment, you may be 
 able to trace them still farther, and thus determine, with 
 
154 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 more or less certainty, the course taken. It will be 
 something gained, to know that they did or did not gc 
 toward Beechwood." 
 
 " I will act at once upon your suggestion/ said the 
 carpenter. " No time is to be lost." 
 
 Just about the place which had been indicated, Hard 
 ing found the deep impression of wheels in the soft turf, 
 turning off abruptly from the beaten road. Following 
 these, he discovered the spot where a carriage had been 
 standing for some time, as was clear from the hoof-marks 
 on the ground. It was behind a clump of trees. Be 
 yond this, he could follow the tracks, until they were 
 again lost in the road. One thing he was able to deter 
 mine clearly : the carriage neither came from nor re 
 turned toward Beechwood. Between the place at which 
 it had been stationed and the little settlement where the 
 carpenter lived, a road leading to the town of Clifton 
 branched off. He tried to follow the wheel-marks in the 
 road, in order to be sure that the vehicle actually went 
 toward Clifton; but the hard, beaten surface, and the 
 mingling of other wheel-tracks, made this impossible. 
 
 It was now midday, and Harding returned home, in 
 tending, immediately after dinner, to start for Clifton, 
 and devote -the remainder of the day to searches in that 
 direction. He found his wife waiting him in troubled 
 suspense. A few words sufficed to give her the meager 
 result of his efforts to discover their visitors of the pre 
 vious evening. Her sad face and red eyes told but too 
 plainly how she had spent the hours since his departure. 
 The children were subdued in manner, and their sober 
 faces showed how sincerely they were grieving for the 
 loss of their sweet little playmate. Lotty had kept close 
 beside her mother during all the morning ; and whenever 
 the latter sat down, overcome by her feelings, to weep, 
 the child would come and lean against her, or draw her 
 tiny arms about her neck, and say 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 155 
 
 "If they don t bring her back, I will be your little 
 Grace, mother." 
 
 How the words went thrilling to the mother s heart, 
 going deeper and deeper every time they were repeated, 
 until at last she could not help clasping the little one 
 passionately to her bosom. 
 
 Harding, after eating a few mouthfuls of the dinner 
 which he found awaiting his return, had left the table, 
 and was preparing to leave the house, when Miss Gimp, 
 the dressmaker, who had only half an hour before got 
 home from Beechwood, came in with a look of import 
 ance on her thin face. In that particular crisis, she was 
 far from being a welcome visitor j the more especially, as 
 it was inferred by them from her manner, that she had 
 by some means gained intelligence of what had occurred. 
 She felt the reserve with which they treated her, and 
 was somewhat piqued thereat; nevertheless, she could 
 not keep back from them all that was in her mind, and 
 said, soon after she came in, in order to introduce the 
 subject 
 
 " How is that dear little babe ?" glancing around the 
 room. " Asleep, I suppose ?" 
 
 Was this a ruse to bring them out? Both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Harding thought so ; and therefore made no reply. 
 
 " I met a lady over at Beechwood," said Miss Gimp, 
 " who asked about you and that babe with a good deal 
 of interest." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 Both Mr. and Mrs. Harding s indifference was gone. 
 
 " Who was she ?" 
 
 Miss Gimp looked mysterious 
 
 "I don t feel at liberty to mention her name," she 
 answered, with affected gravity. 
 
 " Was she an elderly lady ?" inquired the carpenter. 
 
 "She was neither very old nor very young," said 
 Miss Gimp. 
 
156 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "Though somewhat past middle age," remarked the 
 carpenter, who saw that it was necessary to excite a 
 little the dressmaker s curiosity, by appearing to have 
 some knowledge of the person to whom she referred. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Gimp, looking at the carpenter 
 rather warily. 
 
 " With dark, penetrating eyes, and a peculiarly digni 
 fied, almost commanding manner/ 
 
 " I found her pleasant and affable enough," said Miss 
 Gimp. 
 
 " She can be so when it suits her purpose." 
 
 " Ah ! you know her, then ?" remarked the dress 
 maker, thrown off her guard. 
 
 " I have met her, I presume." 
 
 " She did not intimate this." 
 
 Miss Gimp looked a little puzzled. 
 
 " It was not necessary, I presume. Did you meet her 
 in her own house ?" 
 
 " Me ? No, indeed. I haven t been to Clifton." 
 
 " Ah ! True enough. You were at Beechwood ?" 
 
 " Yes. At Mrs. Barclay s. Mrs. Beaufort" 
 
 The dressmaker stopped suddenly ; for she saw by the 
 eager manner with which the carpenter bent toward her, 
 that he was merely leading her on to tell what she knew 
 about the lady to whom she had referred. 
 
 "Mrs. Beaufort of Clifton, the widow of General 
 Beaufort ?" said Harding, pressing on to the dressmaker 
 so closely, that she could only answer in the affirmative. 
 
 " Yes ; it was Mrs. Beaufort," she replied. " She is 
 a sister of Mrs. Barclay, and was making a short visit at 
 Beechwood while I was there." 
 
 " Did she leave yesterday ?" 
 
 The carpenter asked the question in so indifferent a 
 tone, that Miss Gimp was altogether deceived as to the 
 amount of interest he felt. 
 
 " Yes. She went away some time in the afternoon, 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 157 
 
 I believe. Her going was thought rather sudden by the 
 family. In fact, I heard Mrs. Barclay say to her 
 daughter the words were not meant for my ears that 
 she couldn t conceive what motive Mrs. Beaufort had 
 for leaviug so abruptly, and at so late an hour in the 
 day/ 
 
 " You will excuse me, Miss Gimp," said the car 
 penter, partly turning away, and taking up his hat from 
 a chair. 
 
 " Men are always excusable," returned Miss Gimp. 
 " Business has the first claim. So make no apologies." 
 
 " Mary !" 
 
 Harding looked at his wife, and she arose and followed 
 him to the door. 
 
 "I am going over to Clifton," said he, "and will 
 come back as early as possible. In the mean time, be on 
 your guard with Miss Gimp, and do not, on any account, 
 let her know what happened last night." 
 
 " Never fear, Jacob; she will learn nothing from me," 
 returned Mrs. Harding. " But do you think that woman 
 was Mrs. Beaufort of Clifton ?" 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 "Don t be too certain, Jacob. The disappointment, 
 should the supposition prove untrue, will only be the 
 greater." 
 
 " There is not a shadow of doubt on my mind, Mary 
 not a shadow. Good-by ! I will be back as early as 
 possible." *** : 
 
 And the carpenter hurried away. 
 
 "You know, then, all about this Mrs. Beaufort?" 
 said Miss Gimp, in the most insinuating way, as Mrs. 
 Harding came back into the room. 
 
 " The lady about whom you were speaking to my hus 
 band just now ?" 
 
 The utter indifference with which Mrs. Harding said 
 this, surprised in no small degree the dressmaker. 
 
 14 
 
158 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 ft Yes. Mrs. Beaufort, who resides at Clifton." 
 
 Mrs. Harding shook her head. " On the contrary, I 
 know nothing about her/ 
 
 "Nothing? Well, that s strange! I m sure your 
 husband does, if you don t." 
 
 Miss Gimp was puzzled, disappointed, and a little 
 fretted. 
 
 "That may all be," answered Mrs. Harding. "He 
 sees a great many people who never come in my way." 
 
 " But, really, now, Mrs. Harding, just in confidence" 
 Miss Gimp leaned toward the carpenter s wife, and 
 put on her most insinuating look "don t you know 
 something about Mrs. Beaufort ? I m sure you do. She 
 had a great deal to say about you." 
 
 " Had she ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed; and about the baby in particular. 
 Where is it?" and Miss Gimp s eyes looked around, 
 searchingly. 
 
 < What about the baby ?" said Mrs. Harding. 
 
 " And you don t know her at all ?" 
 
 Mrs. Harding shook her head. 
 
 " It s my opinion, then, that she knows a great deal 
 more about that baby than you do." 
 
 Almost impossible did Mrs. Harding find it to repress 
 the strong desire she felt to question Miss Gimp closely, 
 and to gain all she knew at the price of entire confi 
 dence ; but her better judgment gave her self-control. 
 
 " That may be," she answered ; " for we know nothing 
 of its history. All I can say is, that I hope she may 
 have as clear a conscience about the child as we have." 
 
 " Clear a conscience ! How ?" 
 
 And Miss Gimp s eyes went searching about the room 
 again, and even tried to penetrate the adjoining chamber, 
 through a small opening in the door. 
 
 " We have done our duty by the babe." 
 
 Miss Gimp was puzzled. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 159 
 
 " How is the sweet little cherub ?" she asked. 
 
 " Well," was the brief answer. 
 
 " Asleep, I suppose ?" 
 
 " When did you leave Beechwood ?" asked Mrs 
 Harding, not appealing to notice the dressmaker* j 
 question. 
 
 " This morning." 
 
 " How long were you there ?" 
 
 " Several days." 
 
 " At Mrs. Barclay s, you said, I believe ? 
 
 " Yes. She sent her carriage for me, and took me 
 over." 
 
 " And returned you in the same way ?" 
 
 " Of course. She s very much of a lady, only so cold 
 and reserved. Mrs. Beaufort, her husband s sister, is a 
 very different kind of woman." 
 
 " In what respect ?" 
 
 " Oh ! she s so pleasant and talkative." 
 
 " What kind of a looking person is she ?" asked Mrs 
 Harding. 
 
 " Tall, and very dignified. I never saw such a pene 
 trating pair of black eyes in my life. They seem to look 
 right through you sometimes. She takes a great deal of 
 interest in you, let me tell you." 
 
 " Does she, indeed ? I wonder why !" 
 
 How hard was it for the carpenter s wife to maintain 
 her exterior indifference ! 
 
 "No, you don t wonder," said Miss Gimp, whose close 
 observation detected the hidden excitement the other was 
 so anxious to conceal. " You know that you are dying, 
 this minute, to hear all I can tell about Mrs. Beaufort." 
 
 "If you really think so," remarked Mrs. Harding, 
 forcing a smile, " pray have compassion on me, and re 
 lieve my great suspense." 
 
 The dressmaker was at fault again. 
 
 " Oh !" she replied, with ill-concealed vexation, " if 
 
160 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 you are so indifferent about the matter, I shall not 
 trouble myself to enlighten you. I thought you would 
 naturally feel an interest in learning something about a 
 person who evidently knows a good deal more than you 
 do about little Grace, and who, it is plain, has her eyes 
 pretty closely fixed on you." 
 
 Saying this, Miss Gimp arose, and made a movement 
 toward the door. She was very confident that this act 
 would break down, at once, the assumed indifference of 
 Mrs. Harding. But she erred. The latter was too 
 clearly aware of how much was at stake to suffer herself 
 to be thrown from her guard. All the information of 
 any value possessed by Miss Gimp had been communi 
 cated. She saw this, as her mind grew calm and clear, 
 and she was pleased that the prying gossip was about to 
 depart. It was in vain that the dressmaker lingered, 
 and tried to strike some new chord of interest. Nothing 
 vibrated to her touch ; and she withdrew, utterly disap 
 pointed in the object of her visit, and in a very bad hu 
 mour with both the carpenter and his wife, whom she 
 failed not to abuse, in round terms, during three neigh 
 bourly visits paid by her ere reaching her own dwelling. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN a large chamber, the costly furniture of which was 
 in the fashion of an earlier day, sat a pale but beautiful 
 young woman, gazing fondly upon the lovely face of a 
 sleeping child. She had no eye, no ear, no thought for 
 any thing but the babe ; for, as she sat thus, an elderly 
 woman entered, and moved across the room, without 
 attracting observation, until she stood close beside her. 
 
 " Edith !" 
 
 The young woman started, and her face slightly 
 flushed. 
 
 " I did not hear you come in, mother/ she said. 
 
 " You can neither hear nor see any thing, now, but 
 that child." 
 
 The mother spoke with some harshness of manner. 
 
 Edith raised her eyes they were not tearful, but 
 calm and resolute and fixing them on the face of her 
 mother, she said, speaking slowly, yet firmly 
 
 " Have I not said, mother, that thif babe is dearer to 
 me than life ? Believe me, they were no idle words, 
 uttered under excitement. For her sweet sake, I am 
 prepared to give up every thing to endure every thing. 
 Let us, then, contend no longer." 
 
 " Think of the consequences, Edith ! Cannot you 
 think of these ? Remember that Colonel D Arcy will be 
 here next week." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " And that he comes to claim your hand." 
 
 " Claim my hand ?" 
 
 " It is promised," said Mrs. Beaufort. 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 14* 
 
162 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "By yourself. He has your written acceptance of 
 his marriage offer." 
 
 (( My written acceptance ?" 
 
 " Yes. But why need you be reminded of this ?" 
 
 Edith raised one hand, and clasping it tightly against 
 her forehead, sat for some moments with a bewildered 
 look. 
 
 " My written acceptance of Colonel D Arcy s hand ! 
 Why do you say that, mother ?" 
 
 " Because it is the truth. You wrote the letter of ac 
 ceptance yourself/ 
 
 "I did! When?" 
 
 Edith looked more surprised than ever. 
 
 " Scarcely two months have passed," was the firm 
 answer. 
 
 " Ah !" A gleam of light shot across the young 
 woman s face. " That, too/ she added, with a sigh, " is 
 becoming clear. By what dark spirit was I possessed ? 
 Mother ! I have been on the very brink of insanity. 
 The extorted pledges then made I now repudiate, as I 
 have already repudiated the cruel act of abandoning my 
 precious babe. Had I been in my right mind, I dare 
 not now pray for forgiveness. The act of accepting 
 Colonel D Arcy is yours, mother, not mine. Your 
 thought your purpose guided my hand when I wrote 
 the letter, as it guided and controlled my actions on that 
 day, of all days the darkest in the calendar of my un 
 happy life. But I have returned into my own proper 
 self. I am clothed and in my right mind again ; and, 
 Heaven helping me, from this day forth I yield to no in 
 fluence but that of my own sense of right and duty ! I 
 can work and suffer, mother. I can bend to any hard ne 
 cessity that may come; but false to my woman s heart I 
 will not be .! The widow s tears are not yet dry on my 
 cheeks, and shall I turn my heart from all its pure love ? 
 You need not scowl at rne ; mother I did love him 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 163 
 
 with a full heart, tenderly. He was my husband, my 
 excellent, true, noble-minded husband, poor and in 
 humble station though he was ; and the duty of public 
 acknowledgment that I owe to his memory, to myself, 
 and to his child, I am resolved to make, and that right 
 speedily. My first great error was the concealment of 
 our marriage from the world ; the second was suffering 
 him to go away alone. Oh that I could have been with 
 him in his last extremity ! My hand should have been 
 the one that smoothed his pillow my voice the last that 
 sounded in his ears. Ah, mother ! hard, proud, exact 
 ing mother ! With what memories have you cursed your 
 child !" 
 
 Gradually had voice and manner deepened, until both 
 displayed an almost fierce energy, before which Mrs. 
 Beaufort for she it was felt herself cowering. Hitherto 
 her imperious will had ruled her daughter ; but now her 
 power over her was at an end, and she felt that it was so. 
 The darling scheme, to compass which she had trampled 
 the most sacred obligations under foot making her suf 
 fering child a participator, even at the risk of dethroning 
 her reason had come to naught; and in its hopeless 
 failure, other ruin was involved. Gone for ever she 
 saw, in this second strong encounter with Edith, that it 
 was so gone for ever was all power to bend that young 
 spirit to her will. But, what next? Could she turn 
 from her child in proud anger, and go forward on her 
 life-path alone ? She asked herself the question ; and the 
 very thought caused a quick gasping for breath, as if she 
 were about to suffocate. A little while she remained 
 standing near Edith; then, without replying, she went 
 slowly from the room. 
 
 An hour afterward she returned, entering the chamber 
 of her daughter as noiselessly as before. A low, sweet, 
 cooing voice stole into her ears as she passed through the 
 door, and thrilled her whole being with a strange etno- 
 
164 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 tion a mingling of exquisite pleasure and pain. It was 
 the baby s voice. Little Grace was lying on the bed, 
 and over her bent Edith. 
 
 " Darling ! Sweet one ! Darling !" 
 
 Thus her mother spoke to her, and at each tenderly 
 uttered word, she answered with a loving response. 
 
 " My sweet baby V 
 
 And a shower of kisses followed the words. 
 
 The babe still answered, with its sweet, low murmur, 
 every word and every act of endearment. She lay, 
 partly elevated on a pillow, and in such a position that 
 Mrs. Beaufort could see her face, while she remained un 
 observed by her daughter. The hour passed alone had 
 been one of strong self-conflict ending with self-con 
 viction of wrong. The proud, unscrupulous woman of 
 the world chafed for a time against the iron bars of ne 
 cessity with which she found herself enclosed, and then 
 gave up the vain struggle. 
 
 " Hard, proud, exacting mother ! With what memories 
 have you cursed your child !" How the words continued 
 to ring in her ears, until chords were thrilled which had 
 given forth no sound for years. Calmness succeeded to 
 powerful emotion ; and with this subsiding of the storm, 
 canie touches of -gentler feeling. 
 
 " My poor child 1" she sighed to herself, as some vivid 
 realizations of what Edith had suffered startled her into 
 a new consciousness. 
 
 This was Mrs. Beaufort s state of mind when she en 
 tered Edith s chamber. It was not the first time that 
 the voice of Grace had awakened echoes in her heart 
 None but she knew the struggle that it cost to part with 
 the babe, when cruel pride and worldly interests de 
 manded its abandonment. Angry as she had been at her 
 daughter s secret marriage with a young man in humble 
 life, when the fact was made known to her, and almost 
 driven to madness when the babe came to mar all the 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 165 
 
 well-schemed future still, in its lovely innocence, that 
 babe had glided into her heart, and made for itself a 
 place there in spite of all her efforts to keep it out and 
 to cast it out. Witness her two visits at the carpenter s, 
 in venturing which so much was endangered. 
 
 In full view was the babe s face, as she entered the 
 room of Edith. What a heavenly beauty radiated there 
 from ! What a winning sweetness was in her murmured 
 replies, as she answered to the voice of her mother ! 
 
 " Edith !" said Mrs. Beaufort. 
 
 Edith started, as before, and a shadow fell on her 
 countenance, as she turned toward her parent. 
 
 11 Edith, my daughter I" There was a tremulousness 
 in the tones of Mrs. Beaufort, that betrayed her softened 
 feelings. A few moments Edith looked into her face, 
 doubtiugly ; then she saw that her eyes were dimmed by 
 gathering tears. 
 
 " Oh, my mother ! my mother !" she exclaimed, in a 
 voice of passionate entreaty; "will you not take this 
 precious darling to your heart, as once you took me ?" 
 And she lifted Grace quickly from the bed, and held her 
 toward her mother. " Her hands are outstretched, mo 
 ther ! She asks for a place in your heart. Will you not 
 let her in ? A Heaven-sent blessing to us both she will 
 prove an angel in our home to smile away the darkness 
 that has overshadowed it so long Dear mother ! gather 
 us both in your arms ! Mother ! mother !" 
 
 The last brief struggle was over. Around them both 
 the arms of Mrs. Beaufort were flung, and, with a strong 
 compression, she drew them to her heart. 
 
 4< My child ! my child !" she sobbed, as her tears fell 
 over the face of Edith and the babe. " Even so let it be. 
 There is room enough for both. I will take her in. 
 Nay she is there already." 
 
166 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MRS. BEAUFORT, the widow of General Beaufort, a 
 man of wealth, who had attained considerable political 
 distinction during his lifetime, was left with an only 
 daughter, Edith, for whom she had large ambition. A 
 very selfish and self-willed woman, she yet loved this 
 child with an absorbing intensity rarely witnessed. 
 Edith was a part of herself, and she loved herself in its 
 reproduction in her child, with a largely increased 
 vitality. 
 
 But very unlike her mother was Edith. In her, the 
 milder, better traits of her father predominated, and this 
 gave room for the acquirement, by such a woman as 
 Sirs. Beaufort, of almost unbounded control over her. 
 From the beginning, the most implicit obedience had 
 been exacted; and as it was ever an easy sacrifice for 
 Edith to give up her own will, the requirement of her 
 mother came to be the law of her actions. 
 
 While Edith remained a child, the current of these 
 two lives that of the mother and daughter flowed on 
 together at the same velocity, and in channels bending 
 ever in the same direction. But there came a time when 
 the surface of that gently gliding child-life began break 
 ing into ripples when the heart claimed its freedom to 
 love what its own pure instincts regarded as lovely. 
 
 From the earliest time, had the thoughts of Mrs. 
 Beaufort reached forward to the period when Edith s 
 hand would be claimed in marriage ; but not once had 
 qualities of mind and heart elevated themselves, in the 
 prospective husband, above family, wealth, and higb 
 position in the world. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 1C7 
 
 As Edith grew up, and the pure young girl expanded 
 into lovely womanhood, her personal attractions, as well 
 as her station in life, drew suitors around her; but all 
 failed to win their way into her affections. Among these 
 was a Colonel D Arcy, a man of wealth and station, who 
 in every thing satisfied the ambition of Mrs. Beaufort. 
 Well-educated, accomplished, possessing a fine person 
 and a large share of self-esteem, Colonel D Arcy, on ap 
 proaching the lovely heiress, might have exclaimed with 
 Caesar, at the battle of Ziecla, " Veni, vidi, vici !" 
 
 But he came, he saw, and did not conquer. The heart 
 of Edith was too true in its perceptions to make an error 
 here. Utterly repulsive to her was this confident suitor. 
 The sphere of his quality surrounded him like the subtle 
 odour of a noxious plant, and her delicate moral sense 
 perceived this quality the instant he approached. That 
 he repelled instead of attracting her, D Arcy saw at their 
 earliest interview. This piqued his pride, and, in the 
 first excitement occasioned by Edith s cool reception, he 
 vowed that he would " win her and wear her." It did 
 not take long to satisfy the gallant colonel that the 
 storming of a fort was an easier task than the storming 
 of a heart. That of Miss Beaufort he found impregnable 
 under all his known modes of warfare. 
 
 That the mother favoured his suit, Colonel D Arcy 
 saw from the beginning; but a proud confidence in his 
 own powers would not let him stoop to solicit her as an 
 ally. Yet he had to do so in the end. Against their 
 joint assault, aware, as he had become, of Mrs. Beau 
 fort s influence over her daughter, he was certain there 
 would only be a short resistance. Here, again, he erred. 
 Edith unhesitatingly declared to her mother that no 
 power on earth would induce her to accept the hand of 
 Colonel D Arcy, for whom she h?d the most intense re 
 pugnance. Never before had her daughter so boldly set 
 at naught her will. The fiery indignation of Mrs. Beau- 
 
168 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 fort burned fiercely for a time, and in her blind passion 
 she did not hesitate to utter the maddest threats of con 
 sequences, if there was not an instant compliance with 
 her wishes. 
 
 " I can imagine nothing so dreadful as to become the 
 wife of that man," Edith would answer shuddering as 
 she answered every intemperate appeal. And little be 
 yond this did she say ; for all her words, she knew, must 
 fall idly on her mother s ears. 
 
 Meantime, at the house of a friend in the neighbour 
 hood, she met with a young man, named Percival, who 
 was paying a short visit there. He resided in the city 
 of B , distant a hundred miles, where he was pur 
 suing the study of law. He was poor, with few interested 
 friends, and had the world all before him. At their first 
 meeting, Henry Percival did not know even the name, 
 much less the social position of Miss Beaufort ; and she 
 was as ignorant of all that appertained to him. But 
 from the eyes of each looked forth upon the other a con 
 genial spirit, that was seen and recognised. 
 
 The progressive steps of their intimacy we will not 
 pause to relate. On the part of Percival, there was no 
 design, in the beginning, to win the heart of Edith - } and 
 when he saw that it was his, and reflected on the wide 
 disparity of their possessions, the discovery saddened his 
 spirit, for he saw, darkening over both their futures, a 
 stormy cloud. 
 
 On returning home to pursue his studies, he arranged 
 with Edith for a regular correspondence, which was con 
 ducted for nearly a year, without becoming known to 
 Mrs. Beaufort. At the end of that time, he came back 
 to Clifton, when he and Edith were secretly married. 
 The precipitation of this act was caused by Mrs. Beau 
 fort s acceptance of Colonel D Arcy in the name of her 
 daughter, and the actual appointment of a day, some two 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 1G9 
 
 or three months distant, when the nuptial ceremonies 
 were to take place. 
 
 In order to free Edith from the martyrdom in which 
 her life was passed, and to get for ever rid of Colonel 
 D Arcy, the young couple resolved upon this step. It 
 was taken, and notice thereof at once communicated to 
 Mrs. Beaufort, coupled with the intelligence that the 
 bridegroom and bride would present themselves before 
 her after the lapse of a week, and claim forgiveness and 
 a blessing. 
 
 We will not attempt to describe the state of mind into 
 which Mrs. Beaufort was thrown by this undreamed-of 
 intelligence. Her very life s love was assailed and 
 threatened with extinction. No eye but that of Heaven 
 saw her, as, in the secrecy of her own chamber, she en 
 dured the wild conflict of passion that succeeded; but 
 marks of the fearful storm were too plainly visible on her 
 altered face, when she came forth in her stately com 
 posure. 
 
 The week passed, and then Edith and her young hus 
 band presented themselves. The first she received with 
 icy coldness ; the latter she overwhelmed with bitter de 
 nunciation and the most withering scorn. 
 
 " Come, Henry," said the young wife, laying her hand 
 upon his arm, and drawing him away " I will not hear 
 you addressed in such language, even by my mother. 
 You are niy husband, and the wide world is ours." 
 
 There was a simple dignity, blended with unmis 
 takable purpose in this, that confounded as well as sur 
 prised Mrs. Beaufort. Edith had already turned away, 
 and was moving with her husband toward the door 
 through which they had just entered. 
 
 " Edith ! Girl 1" 
 
 The voice of the mother arose almost into a cry of 
 anguish. 
 
 Edith paused, and turning, looked back. Her face 
 
 15 
 
170 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 was colourless, and all its lines rigid from excessive 
 emotion ; but it was resolute. 
 
 "I have cast my lot in life, and with deliberation, 
 mother," she said. "You left me no other course. 
 Death I could have met calmly, but not the destiny you 
 assigned me. This man is my husband, chosen from all 
 other men, and with him I shall go through the world. 
 If you receive not him, you cannot receive me." 
 
 " Mad girl ! mad girl !" exclaimed Mrs. Beaufort, as 
 she staggered back a few steps, and sunk upon a chair. 
 " How have you flung to the stormy winds every dearest 
 hope of my life !" 
 
 Edith left her husband s side, and going quickly to 
 her mother, laid her hand gently upon her hot forehead, 
 on which the veins were swollen into chords. The touch 
 of that soft hand thrilled magnetically along every nerve. 
 For some minutes Mrs. Beaufort sat entirely passive. 
 
 Ah ! she could not live without her child j and never 
 did she feel that truth more deeply or more painfully. 
 Indignant pride would have flung her off and disowned 
 her for ever; but intense love clung to her even as the 
 drowning cling to a straw. 
 
 " Edith ! my child ! what have you done ?" 
 
 As these words came almost sobbing from her lips, 
 Mrs. Beaufort arose and went from the room with un 
 steady steps. 
 
 When, after the lapse of two hours, she rejoined Edith 
 and her husband, it was to meet them with a kindness 
 of manner that took both by surprise. Below this as 
 sumed exterior, Percival, who had a quick, penetrating 
 mind, saw concealed a sinister purpose ; but Edith, too 
 happy at so broad a concession, believed that her mother 
 had resolved to make the best of circumstances, which no 
 act of hers could change. The first inquiries made by 
 Mrs. Beaufort were in reference to the publicity which 
 had been given to the marriage. On learning that every 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 171 
 
 thing had been conducted with the strictest secrecy, and 
 that the fact was only known to one or two pledged 
 friends, who were to be relied upon, she expressed much 
 satisfaction, and at once proposed further measures of 
 concealment for the present. 
 
 To these proposals, Percivai and Edith, after some 
 persuasion, were induced to accede ; and at an early day 
 
 the young man returned to B alone, to enter upon 
 
 the practice of his profession, he having been just ad 
 mitted to the bar. 
 
 Six or seven months elapsed, during which time Per 
 civai had twice visited Clifton, arriving, by arrangement, 
 late in the evening, and not showing himself to any 
 visitor during the brief period he remained. To both 
 himself and Edith, this secrecy was growing daily more 
 and more oppressive and repugnant, and it was only 
 maintained through the powerful influence of Mrs. 
 Beaufort. 
 
 About this time, a gentleman froon New Orleans 
 called upon Percivai, and made him liberal offers if he 
 would go to the South. This person s name was Maris. 
 He had been in correspondence for some two years with 
 Percivai s legal preceptor, and at his instance made the 
 proposition to which we have referred. The opening 
 promised to be so largely advantageous, that the young 
 man felt bound to accept of it. Previously to doing so, 
 he repaired to Clifton to consult with his wife and 
 mother-in-law. Edith made some feeble objections; 
 but Mrs. Beaufort was so decided in her approval, that 
 she acquiesced, and immediate preparations for departure 
 were made. 
 
 For three months letters came regularly from Per 
 civai, whose residence was New Orleans. He spoke with 
 animation of his opening prospects, and shadowed forth, 
 in ardent fancy, a future of brilliant success in his pro 
 fession. Then came a. longer silence than usual ; then a 
 
172 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 letter from Mr. Maris, announcing Percival s dangerous 
 illness with a Southern fever. Two weeks more weeks 
 of agony to the young wife and the terrible news of his 
 death came, with mournful details of the last extremity. 
 In the midst of Edith s wild anguish, a babe was born 
 the sweet little Grace, in whom the reader feels so tender 
 an interest. Around this event, Mrs. Beaufort threw 
 every possible vail of concealment, even going so far as 
 to bribe to secrecy, by most liberal inducements, every 
 member of her household that became necessarily aware 
 of the circumstances. 
 
 Weak in body and mind prostrate, in fact, under the 
 heavy blow that fell so suddenly upon her Edith be 
 came passive in the hands of her mother, and obeyed her, 
 for a time, with the unquestioning docility of a little 
 child. Even her mind, in its feeble state, became im 
 pressed with the idea of secrecy, so steadily enjoined by 
 Mrs. Beaufort; and, in presence of the few visitors whom 
 she could not refuse to see, she assumed a false exterior, 
 and most sedulously concealed every thing that could 
 awake even a remote suspicion that she had been a wife, 
 and was now a mother. 
 
 Meantime, under all the disadvantages of its position, 
 the babe was steadily winning its way into a heart that, 
 from the beginning, shut the door against it, with a reso 
 lute and cruel purpose. Mrs. Beaufort could never come 
 where it was, without feeling a desire to take it in her 
 arms, and hug it to her bosom; and the more she re 
 sisted this desire, the stronger it became, until the con 
 flict occasioned kept her in a constant state of excite 
 ment. 
 
 A few weeks after the news of Percival s death was 
 received, Colonel D Arcy visited Clifton. On being an 
 nounced, Edith positively refused to see him; and her 
 feeble state warranted, even in her mother s view, the 
 decision. He remained only a short time; but, on 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 173 
 
 leaving, placed in the hands of Mrs. Beaufort an epistle 
 for her daughter, couched in the tenderest language, and 
 renewing previous offers of his hand. 
 
 Percival out of the way, Mrs. Beaufort was now more 
 than ever resolved to compass this darling scheme of her 
 heart the marriage of her daughter with Colonel 
 D Arcy. The first step in its sure accomplishment was 
 to get the child out of the way. But how was this to be 
 done ? It was a fine, healthy child, more than usually 
 forward for its age, and in no way likely to die speedily, 
 unless unless ? Did thoughts of murder stir in the 
 mind of that proud, selfish, cruel woman ? Such thoughts 
 were suggested, and even pondered ! But other thoughts 
 of disgrace and punishment came quickly to drive 
 them out. The abandonment of Grace was next deter 
 mined upon. To effect this, she first induced Edith 
 who, from grief, sickness, and incessant persecution, had 
 entirely lost her mental equipoise to write a letter of 
 acceptance to Colonel D Arcy. Passive hopelessness left 
 her a mere instrument in her mother s hands. For her 
 acts she was scarcely responsible. The letter of accept 
 ance passed speedily from her, and went on its mission, 
 beyond recall. This fact of acceptance was a great power 
 gained over Edith a power that Mrs. Beaufort, seeing 
 her vantage ground, used with a heartless rigour, that 
 finally led to the cruel act of desertion already known to 
 the reader. 
 
 For two weeks subsequent to Edith s return home, 
 after placing the basket containing her babe at the door 
 of Mr. Harding she had resisted all persuasion, en 
 treaty, and command of her mother to leave that task for 
 another she retained but little consciousness of sur 
 rounding circumstances. The trial proved too great j 
 and her over-tried spirit sought protection and repose in 
 partial oblivion. Slowly recovering, her first sane thoughts 
 were of her babe ; and. though she said nothing of her 
 
 15* 
 
174 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 purpose to her mother, she was* fully resolved, the mo 
 ment strength came for the effort, to regain possession 
 thereof, publicly acknowledging it and her marriage, 
 and, if that sad necessity were imposed, go forth from 
 her mother s house into the world alone. 
 
 The meeting at Harding s was quite as great a surprise 
 to Edith as to her mother; but it was all the better, as 
 giving occasion for the unqualified declaration of her 
 future purpose a declaration that, as has been seen, she 
 was prepared to sustain. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " IP the heart is not satisfied, mother, life at best is a 
 heavy burden." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort and her daughter were sitting together, 
 on the day after their recovery of Grace, and talking 
 calmly of the future. Hopeless of attaining her ambi 
 tious ends, the former had given up the struggle, so long 
 continued. Even though but a few hours had passed 
 since the unequal strife with Edith, she was becoming 
 clearly conscious that her course of action toward her 
 child had been far from just or humane, and that her 
 position gave her no right to exercise so tyrannical an 
 influence. No longer compelled, by her own selfish pur 
 poses, to cherish a feeling of antipathy toward Grace, 
 she found her heart beginning to flow forth toward the 
 lovely infant. Such was the nameless attraction pos 
 sessed by the babe, that even with all her powerful 
 reasons for wishing to annihilate her, if that were pos- 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 175 
 
 sible, Mrs. Beaufort had not been able to resist the sphere 
 of her love-inspiring innocence. Now, when no barrier 
 to affection reared itself, her heart turned toward the in 
 fant, and opened itself with eagerness to take her in. 
 Quick to perceive the real change in her mother s feel 
 ings toward Grace, Edith placed the little one in her 
 arms, and with a thrill of exquisite delight saw it drawn 
 impulsively to her bosom. In that moment, the work 
 of reconciliation was accomplished. Against the winning 
 attractions of Grace, Mrs. Beaufort had striven from the 
 beginning, but never with perfect success. It was all in 
 vain, that, to satisfy pride and ambition, she had cast her 
 off; even in the separation, her heart had mirrored the 
 babe s sweet image; turned ever and anon toward her; 
 and yearned for her restoration. And now, when she 
 came back to brighten, with her seraphic presence, the 
 darkness of their unhappy home, and no strong motive for 
 thrusting her out remained, her heart leaped toward her, 
 panting with its long-endured thirst to love, and re 
 ceiving her therein with joy and gladness. 
 
 " O mother !" added Edith, as they sat together, each 
 striving for, and feeling the way toward a truer recon 
 ciliation, " how vainly do we seek for happiness, if we 
 seek it beyond the range of our own true wants ! We 
 must look inward not outward. We must ask of our 
 hearts not of the world how, and where, and with 
 what companionship we are to spend our life s probation. 
 As for me, I desire nothing beyond my own home, and 
 an entire devotion of all JL have and all 1 am to my 
 child. If that will satisfy me, why should any one seek 
 my unhappiness by dragging me into uncongenial spheres, 
 or cursing me with associations against which my whole 
 nature revolts with loathing ? As for Colonel D Arcy 
 I speak of him now, because you are better prepared to 
 understand me than ever before his friendship even 
 oppresses me. But, when he seeks a nearer association 
 
176 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 presumes to ask of me the love given but once, and 
 never to be given again I ani almost suffocated with 
 disgust. Yield him my hand, mother ! Never while I 
 have strength to bind it to my side. I would brave a 
 thousand deaths in preference. He is a bad man I 
 know it by the quick repugnance that fills my heart 
 whenever he comes near me. Did he possess a single 
 germ of true manliness, he would not pursue me after all 
 that has passed." 
 
 A servant interrupted them by announcing that a 
 strange man had called, and asked to see Mrs. Beaufort. 
 
 " What is his name /" inquired the lady. 
 
 " He wishes to see you a moment ; but would not give 
 his name." 
 
 " What kind of a looking man ?" 
 
 The servant described him. 
 
 " Say that I will be down in a few moments." As 
 the servant withdrew, the whole manner of Mrs. Beaufort 
 changed. " It is Harding," said she. 
 
 Edith started, and turned pale, at the same time lift 
 ing Grace from her mother s arms. 
 
 " What is to be done ? How did he find his way 
 here?" 
 
 " We must see him," said Mrs. Beaufort, after a few 
 moments of hurried reflection. 
 
 " Both of us ?" 
 
 "Yes, Edith, both of us. And he must see Grace. 
 Nothing is left now, but to conciliate, and bring him, a 
 certain degree, into our confidence. He and his wife 
 proved faithful to the trust reposed in them. They 
 loved our little Grace truly, and cared for her tenderly ; 
 and they must have their reward. There was a fine 
 manliness about his conduct last night, that raised him 
 high in my estimation. I think he can be trusted." 
 
 "But he frightened me so, mother: he spoke so 
 harshly, and seemed so cruel." 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 177 
 
 " Was he not right, Edith, in seeking to prevent our 
 taking away the babe, strangers as we were, and re 
 fusing, as we did, to give any satisfaction as to our per 
 sonality? He was right, and I approved his inanly 
 firmness at the time." 
 
 " I wish you would meet him alone, mother." 
 
 " I do not think that will be best," replied Mrs. Beau 
 fort. " We must not let him see that we are afraid of 
 him. Our relations are very different from what they 
 were last evening ; and if we show a consciousness of our 
 real position, he will not be slow to perceive his own." 
 
 The room into which the carpenter had been shown 
 was a large parlour, richly furnished, its six windows 
 draped with heavy curtains of red satin damask. Around 
 the walls were hung many pictures, among which his 
 eyes soon recognised his two visitors of the previous 
 night, Mrs. Beaufort and her daughter. The portrait of 
 Edith had been taken some five years previous, and, 
 while it still bore to her a striking resemblance, had all 
 the innocent sweetness of gentle girlhood. As he gazed, 
 with a kind of fascination, upon this pictured counte 
 nance, it seemed to change and grow life-like, and he 
 almost started to his feet as he saw the eyes of dear little 
 Grace looking down, with a loving expression, from the 
 canvas. He was scarcely freed from the illusion, when 
 he became aware that footsteps drew near the door. 
 Turning, he met the calm, dignified face of Mrs. Beau 
 fort, and the pale, timid, half-frightened countenance of 
 her daughter, who held the babe he had lost closely 
 drawn to her bosom. 
 
 " Mr. Harding !" said Mrs. Beaufort, speaking with 
 entire self-possession, and giving her hand to the car 
 penter as she advanced to meet him. " So you have 
 found us, my good friend," she added ; " and it is, per 
 haps, as well. We had powerful reasons for desiring to 
 remain unknown. Under the circumstances, this was 
 
178 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 hardly possible. You, at least, were not to be baffled in 
 your search, as this early visit testifies. Sit down, Mr. 
 Harding. We had better understand each other fully." 
 
 Harding was somewhat bewildered by the calmness of 
 his reception. From the dignified countenance of Mrs. 
 Beaufort, his eyes turned to the sweet babe that lay so 
 closely drawn against the breast of its mother : as they 
 did so, a softened expression passed over his rough face. 
 
 " Grace ! Grace !" he said, tenderly, and advancing, 
 reached out his hands. 
 
 Edith moved off a pace or two ; but the little one, the 
 moment she heard the well-known voice, started up, and, 
 with a glad murmur, fluttered her rosy fingers, and leaned 
 eagerly forward, while her whole face was lit up with 
 a joyful recognition. Edith drew her back, while an ex 
 pression of anxiety and alarm dimmed her countenance. 
 
 u Let her come to me, ma am," said the carpenter, in 
 a respectful voice it trembled with feeling. 
 
 Edith glanced toward the door, fearfully. Harding 
 understood the meaning of this. 
 
 " You need not mistrust me, ma am." He stepped to 
 the door, and closed it. As he returned to where she 
 stood, he continued " Jacob Harding has gone thus 
 far in life without a treacherous action, and he will not 
 violate his honour now. Let her come to me ; oh ! let 
 her come ! Let me feel the dear one again in my arms, 
 where she has lain so many, many times." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort, seeing that her daughter still hesitated, 
 took Grace from her arms, and placed her in those of the 
 carpenter. As Harding received the precious burden, 
 he clasped her passionately, and spoke to her in the 
 most endearing tones. The little one answered him with 
 her sweet love-language, and even drew her tiny arms 
 about his neck. How wildly he kissed her ! Dim were 
 his eyes as he restored her to her mother ; and he spoke 
 not, for emotion was too strong. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 179 
 
 "I am foolish," he said, as he recovered himself. 
 " It is not manly, I know ; but that child has, from the 
 beginning, softened my heart, until it has become weak 
 as a woman s. How you could ever have parted with 
 her ; this thought restored his self-possession, and he 
 spoke with something of a rebuking sternness " passes 
 my comprehension." 
 
 " And it passes mine ! it passes mine !" murmured 
 Edith, speaking to herself, as she bent lower over the 
 babe, which the carpenter had restored to her arms. 
 
 "As for the past," said Mrs. Beaufort she spoke 
 with a calmness and self-possession that had its effect on 
 Harding " that must sleep, my friend, with its errors 
 and sufferings, as far as memory will let it sleep. All I 
 will say of it to you is, that I had ambitious views in re 
 gard to my daughter, which she frustrated by a secret 
 marriage. The death of her young husband, a few 
 months afterward, and while I was yet able to prevent 
 the fact from becoming known, revived all my ambitious 
 hopes. The birth of this child I was able to conceal ; 
 and, moreover, succeeded in so overshadowing the mind 
 of its mother, as to induce her, in a moment of partial 
 derangement, to abandon it at your door not yours by 
 choice, but by accident. The rest you know. The mo 
 ther s heart was too strong in my child. Her babe is 
 again on her bosom, and "there it must remain. Her 
 grateful thanks are yours for the tenderness with which 
 you have cared for the babe ; and she will not let her 
 gratitude, believe me, rest in her mind a fruitless senti 
 ment. For the present, all we ask of you is discretion. 
 Let the knowledge of our personality in connection with 
 this matter remain wholly with you and your wife. Of 
 course the babe must now be acknowledged, and we shall 
 proceed, without delay, to give public, indisputable evi 
 dence of my daughter s marriage. As to the abandon 
 ment of the child, with the circumstances attending it, 
 
180 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 if all becomes known in each minute particular, we shall 
 suffer strong opprobrium. Very naturally, I wish to 
 escape this myself, and especially to save my daughter 
 from the charge of having abandoned to strangers, of 
 whom she knew nothing, her own tender infant. Can 
 we trust in your prudence? Will you not bind your 
 selves to us you and your wife by a new debt of 
 gratitude ?" 
 
 It was some time before Harding made any answer. 
 His mind was bewildered by what Mrs. Beaufort said. 
 Plain enough was it, that the angel of their household 
 was to return to them no more; and the shadow already 
 on his heart fell colder and darker. 
 
 " All does not lie with us," he remarked, scarcely re 
 flecting on what he said. 
 
 " Why not on you ?" 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort spoke anxiously. 
 
 " The dressmaker you saw at Mrs. Barclay s yesterday 
 directed my suspicions toward you." 
 
 What 1" 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort grew excited. 
 
 " Miss G-imp told me that you manifested a singular 
 interest in us and the babe. I asked her to describe 
 you, and knew you by the description in a moment; 
 therefore I am here." 
 
 " Bad bad. That is bad. I was imprudent." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort spoke to herself. 
 
 " I have also seen Mrs. Hartley of Orerton." 
 
 The face of Mrs. Beaufort flushed. 
 
 " She knew you by my description." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " But refused to say who you was or where I could 
 find you, unless I gave her my entire confidence." 
 
 Which you " 
 
 "Did not," replied Harding. "Every thing was so 
 much involved in mystery, that I chose to be discreet." 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 181 
 
 "That was well. But Miss .Gimp does she know of 
 what took place last night?" 
 
 " No one knows it out of my family, except Mr. Long, 
 the schoolmaster, whose prudence is altogether to be 
 relied on." 
 
 It was now Mrs. Beaufort s turn to be silent. For 
 many minutes she sat revolving in her mind all the diffi 
 cult aspects of the affair in which she had become in 
 volved. At length she said 
 
 " Mr. Harding, all we ask of you now is, entire silence 
 to every one for the present, in regard to what has trans 
 pired. We will offer you no personal inducement to se 
 cure this, for that would be an insult to your manliness 
 of character. But you have laid us, and can still lay 
 us, under a heavy burden of gratitude. May we trust 
 you?" 
 
 " As entirely as you can trust yourselves," was the 
 unhesitating answer. "I see no good that can arise 
 from bruiting the matter abroad. Why, then, shall it 
 be done ? But there is one thing I must ask." 
 
 " Name it." 
 
 " The privilege for my wife of seeing the babe. Ah, 
 ma am ! you know not how she loves it. For many 
 weeks it slept in her bosom, until it has grown to be a 
 part of herself. You know not her distress at its loss. 
 Her eyes have been full of tears ever since. To us all, 
 the child has been as an angel. Strife has ceased in its 
 blessed presence, and the lowest murmur of its sweet 
 voice has been a l Peace, be still/ to the wildest storm 
 of passion." 
 
 " Bring her here to-morrow," said Mrs. Beaufort, with 
 a good-will in her voice, that betokened her earnestness. 
 " We would send our carriage, but for reasons that need 
 not be suggested to you." 
 
 "Yes; bring her over," added Edith. "I wish to 
 16 
 
182 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 see her and know her. She has laid my heart under a 
 debt of gratitude." 
 
 Harding arose. " Once more let me feel her in my 
 arms/ said he, as he fixed his eyes lovingly on the 
 infant. 
 
 The timid mother did not hesitate, but resigned to 
 him the babe, that looked up fondly in his face, and 
 smiled its sweetest smile. 
 
 " God bless you and keep you." Harding spoke with 
 deep feeling. He could say no more. Kissing the 
 pure lips and brow many times fervently, he handed the 
 babe back to her mother. As soon as he had recovered 
 his self-possession, he withdrew formally, saying that he 
 would see them, in company with his wife, some time 
 during the next day. A few minutes afterward, he was 
 galloping homeward as fast as his horse s feet would 
 carry him. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THOUGH removed from them, as to bodily presence, 
 the angel of their household still remained with the car 
 penter and his family. Not a member thereof, from the 
 rugged father down to little Lotty, but saw ever before 
 the eyes of their spirits, the dear young face that 
 brought sunlight into their darkened dwelling; but they 
 saw her with tear-moistened vision. She was no longer 
 theirs in physical actuality ; but present as in a dream 
 that is never forgotten. Subdued even to sadness, the 
 intercourse between the members of the family was 
 marked by a tender regard, the one for the other. Each 
 felt the other s grief at the loss of Grace, and desired to 
 lighten instead of increasing its pressure. As for Lotty, 
 since Grace left them, she had sought to win for herself 
 that regard in her mother s heart which the stranger had 
 occupied. She was too young for reflection, and only 
 obeyed a heaven-inspired instinct. And as she knocked 
 at the too long closed door of her mother s heart, that 
 door gradually yielded, until at last the rusty hinges op 
 posed no resistance, and it swung wide open to take 
 her in. 
 
 The intelligence brought back from Clifton, while it 
 set the tears of Mrs. Harding to flowing afresh, because 
 it extinguished all hope of the babe s restoration to her 
 arms, relieved her mind greatly. There was a certainty 
 about this intelligence, that settled the doubtful question 
 of its fate. It was, and would be well with the child. 
 Her love for it could ask no more, though her heart was 
 bleeding from the separation. 
 
 To the eager questions of the children " Where is 
 
18i THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 Grace ?" " Have you seen Grace, father ?" " Isn t she 
 coming back anymore?" Mr. Harding answered with 
 as much information in regard to her as he deemed pru 
 dent, assuring them, at the same time, that if Grace did 
 not come to them again, they should go to see her. 
 
 During the evening, Mr. Long, the schoolmaster, 
 called to learn the result of Harding s visit to Clifton. 
 To him, as a friend fully to be confided in, the carpenter 
 related the occurrences of the day. 
 
 " She has been such a blessing, such a comfort to us," 
 said Mrs. Harding, as they sat talking of Grace. 
 
 " God has given you many comforts, many blessings," 
 answered the schoolmaster, as he glanced meaningly 
 toward her children, who were all present, quiet, half- 
 wondering auditors. Andrew, over whom Mr. Long had 
 already acquired great influence, was standing beside his 
 teacher, proud of the notice and gratified with the kind 
 ness ever extended to him by his judicious friend ; while 
 Lotty, who had climbed into her mother s lap, was lying 
 close against her breast, looking contented even happy. 
 
 It was on the lips of Mrs. Harding to reply, " If they 
 were only like Grace." But her conscience rebuked 
 her for the thought ere it found utterance, and she re 
 mained silent. But she took the lesson to her heart, 
 and as she did so, drew her arm involuntarily tighter 
 around Lotty, who, feeling the pressure, looked up at her 
 mother with a smile of love. In return, the soft cheek 
 of the mother was bent down until it rested on the sunny 
 hair of her child. 
 
 The schoolmaster saw that he was clearly understood, 
 and did not mar the good impression of his words by 
 seeking to enforce their meaning. 
 
 On the next morning, quite early, Mr. and Mrs. Hard 
 ing, accompanied by Lotty, started for Clifton. They 
 had to pass the door of Miss Gimp, the dressmaker, on 
 their way, and she failed not to discover the fact that the 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 185 
 
 carpenter and his wife were riding out together an 
 event too noteworthy to be regarded with indifference. 
 
 " What does this mean ? Where are they going ?" 
 
 Such were her rather excited questions, as she laid 
 aside her work, and took her place at the window, to note 
 the direction they would take. 
 
 "Over to Clifton? Hardly. Yes I declare ! if 
 they haven t taken the road to Clifton ! Ah, ha ! 
 There s something in the wind. I wonder if they can 
 be going over to Mrs. Beaufort s. I thought I could see 
 deeper into the mind of Mrs. Harding than she cared for. 
 I was sure she knew more about Mrs. Beaufort than was 
 pretended. But whose child is it ? I d give my little 
 finger to know." 
 
 Unable to work with this mystery on her mind, Miss 
 Gimp drew on her bonnet, and ran over to see Mrs. 
 Willits, the storekeeper s wife, for just a minute. 
 
 " Our carpenter is getting up in the world," said she, 
 as soon as she could thrust in the words, after meeting 
 her friend. 
 
 " So I should think," answered Mrs. Willits, who had 
 seen Harding go by; "riding out with his wife at a 
 time when other people are at work. My husband can t 
 afford such indulgence." 
 
 " They were always a shiftless set." 
 
 Miss Gimp spoke with some indignation. She could 
 not forgive Mrs. Harding for the impenetrable reserve 
 she had thrown around herself at their interview on the 
 previous afternoon a reserve felt to be both a wrong 
 and an insult. 
 
 "And will come to beggary in the end," said Mrs. 
 Willits. "It was only last evening that I heard Mr. 
 Grant going on about Harding at a great rate. It ap 
 pears that he had promised to call over early in the 
 morning to consult with him in regard to a job that 
 Grant, the farmer, wanted done. Mr. Grant waited at 
 16* 
 
186 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 home until dinner-time, but no carpenter came. It made 
 him terribly angry. He stopped at our store in the 
 evening, and the way he talked about Harding would 
 have done you good to hear. He gave it to him right 
 and left, I can assure you/ 
 
 " Didn t keep his promise with him ?" 
 
 "Not he Mr. Indifference or Mr. Independence, 
 whichever you choose to call him." 
 
 " Mr. Shiftless, you d better say." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Shiftless, then. And now he s playing 
 the gentleman riding out with his wife as coolly as if 
 he hadn t lost a good job !" 
 
 " Mr. Grant won t have any thing more to do with 
 him?" 
 
 Miss Gimp spoke with a kind of pleased inquiry. 
 
 "Not he." 
 
 " Serves him right." 
 
 " Of course it does. He said that early this morning 
 he would go to Beechwood and engage a carpenter 
 there; and he swore for he was in a great passion 
 that if Harding starved, he d never handle a dollar of his 
 money so long as he lived." 
 
 " I don t blame him," said Miss Gimp. 
 
 " Nobody can blame him," responded Mrs. Willits. 
 
 " D ye know," remarked the dressmaker, lowering her 
 voice, and speaking mysteriously, " that in my opinion 
 something more than a mere pleasure ride takes them 
 out this morning." 
 
 " What are they after ? where are they going ?" in 
 quired Mrs. Willits, brightening up at this intimation on 
 the part of Miss Gimp. 
 
 " They took the road to Clifton, I m certain." 
 
 " To Clifton ! Well, what great and mighty business 
 takes them over to Clifton, I d like to know ?" 
 
 " Something about that child they ve got ; I ll venture 
 my existence," said Miss Gimp. 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 187 
 
 " What of it ?" 
 
 Mrs. Willits brightened up still more. 
 
 " I think I can guess where it came from." 
 
 " Indeed 1" 
 
 " Of course, it is only guess-work ; but, in putting 
 this and that together, you know, we often get very near 
 the truth. I ve been sewing at Mrs. Barclay s in Beech- 
 wood." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You ve heard of Mrs. General Beaufort, who lives in 
 Clifton?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Well, I never knew it before; but she s the sister 
 of Mr. Barclay." 
 
 "Is she?" 
 
 " Yes. And she came over to see her brother about 
 something while I was there." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " One day, when all the family were out, she came 
 into the room where I was alone, sewing, and made her 
 self quite sociable. After talking around a while, she 
 asked if I knew Harding and his family. I said that I 
 did. Then she wanted to know what kind of people 
 they were. Of course, I couldn t give them a very 
 exalted character, and didn t. .It was plain enough to 
 be seen that she had some secret interest in them. Who 
 first spoke of that little foundling baby, I can t now re 
 member ; but the moment it was named, I saw that she 
 knew a great deal more about it than she cared me to 
 guess. In order to bring her out, I spoke of Harding 
 and his wife in the strongest manner taking good care 
 to say, that in placing that child in their hands, it was 
 like putting a lamb among wolves. She grew uneasy 
 and excited at this ; so much so, that she clearly felt that 
 fihe was betraying herself, and left me abruptly. That 
 afternoon she went away, very unexpectedly to the fa- 
 
188 THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 mily. Depend upon it, Mrs. Willits, she knows all 
 about that baby." 
 
 "Why don t you .go to see Mrs. Harding, and feel 
 around her ?" inquired the storekeeper s wife, who had 
 become much interested in the dressmaker s gossip. 
 
 " I ve been already," answered Miss Gimp. " I came 
 away from Mrs. Barclay s a day sooner than I intended, 
 and on purpose." 
 
 " Ah ? Well, what did you make out of her ?." 
 
 "Nothing certain. I saw Harding and his wife, but 
 they were as close-mouthed as terrapins." 
 
 " Did you speak to them of Mrs. Beaufort ?" 
 
 " Yes j and its just my opinion that they got out of 
 me all I know, and didn t let me see below the surface 
 of their thoughts. I was so provoked !" 
 
 " And so you learned nothing ?" said Mrs. Willits. 
 
 "Nothing certain. But it takes sharper people than 
 they are to hide things from my eyes. That both were 
 greatly interested in Mrs. Beaufort, and knew far more 
 about her than they chose to tell, was plain enough ; and 
 that their ride over to Clifton, this morning, is to see 
 her, I do not in the last doubt." 
 
 " I shouldn t wonder at all," remarked Mrs. Willits. 
 " Mrs. General Beaufort ! That is news. Has she a 
 daughter ?" 
 
 " I don t know," replied Miss Gimp. 
 
 "Why didn t you ask Mrs. Barclay ?" 
 
 "Just what I ve said to myself twenty times over. 
 I m provoked to death at my own stupidity." 
 
 " How soon are you going over there again ?" 
 
 " I can t tell. I don t think Mrs. Barclay will want 
 me very soon." 
 
 " We must find out in some way." 
 
 "Yes, indeed. I ll not rest until I know all about it. 
 You remember that Harry Wilkins saw a woman carrying 
 a basket on the night the child was left at Harding s"?" 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 189 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Very well. He told me that he s certain he saw the 
 same woman, riding in a carriage, in the neighbourhood 
 of Clifton. Put this and that together, Mrs. Willits, and 
 it isn t very hard to make out a case." 
 
 " I should think not. Depend upon it, you re fairly 
 on the track. Harding isn t riding out, this morning, 
 for nothing. Had they the baby with them ?" 
 
 " That I couldn t see. I tried my best to look over 
 into Mrs. Harding s arms, but her husband was on the 
 side next to me, and though I got up into a chair, it wa3 
 of no use. But I shouldn t at all wonder." 
 
 " I ll tell you how you can find out." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Just by running over to their house for a minute. 
 Of course, nobody s at home but the children." 
 
 " That s it," replied Miss Gimp, starting up. " I ll 
 go this instant." And she stepped toward the door. 
 
 " Don t forget to stop as you come back," said the 
 storekeeper s wife. 
 
 "Oh ! no. I ll be sure to call. 
 
 And Miss Gimp left with the sprightly step of a 
 young girl of sixteen. In some twenty minutes, she re 
 turned. 
 
 " Well ?" said Mrs. Willits, as she came in. 
 
 " No child there," answered the dressmaker. 
 
 "No? Indeed?" 
 
 " True as preaching." 
 
 " Where is it ?" 
 
 Miss Gimp shook her head. 
 
 " Who was there ?" 
 
 " Only Philip and Lucy." 
 
 "Couldn t they tell?" 
 
 " They couldn t, or wouldn t which, I am at a loss to 
 say. I never saw such mum, stupid little wretches in 
 my life." 
 
190 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 "Did you ask them where their father and mother 
 had gone ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What answer did they make ?" 
 
 " Said they didn t know." 
 
 " They lied, I suppose instructed by their parents." 
 
 "As like as not," answered Miss Gimp. "But isn t 
 it dreadful to think of ? Who can wonder if they go to 
 destruction ?" 
 
 " Nobody. And so the child is gone ?" 
 
 " Yes. No doubt they took it with them, this morn 
 ing. But Til find out all about it, by hook or by crook, 
 see if I don t." 
 
 And with this assurance, the dressmaker, who had a 
 good deal of work on hand, to be ready by a certain time, 
 took her departure to renew her vain efforts at meeting 
 her engagements. To promise was a part of her profes 
 sion and not to keep these promises to the letter, the 
 other part. Having the interests of the whole neigh 
 bourhood to attend to, it was impossible to be entirely 
 punctual in such unimportant matters. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IT was past midday when the carpenter and his wife 
 returned from Clifton, each with sober but not troubled 
 countenances. Their anxieties about the babe s welfare 
 were fully satisfied; but they came back with the sad 
 assurance that its sweet smile had faded from their home 
 for ever that an angel had departed from among them, 
 and with it, they feared, the sweet, angelic influences 
 that, in so brief a time, had made their desert to blossom 
 as the rose. 
 
 A hurried dinner was prepared, and then Harding went 
 to his shop, that had now been closed for nearly two whole 
 days. It was his intention to go from there, immediately, 
 to farmer Grant s to make ararngements about the new 
 roof, which he had promised to attend to immediately. 
 He was just on the eve of doing so when a neighbour 
 stopped at the door, and said 
 
 " Why, what s been the matter, Harding ? I was about 
 going over to your house, to see if you were sick or 
 dead." 
 
 "I ve had a little business to attend to, which has 
 taken all my time for nearly two days," replied the 
 carpenter; "but I m through with it now, and at my 
 post again." 
 
 " You ve lost a job by it, I m thinking," said the 
 neighbour. 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "I heard Grant abusing you right and left for not 
 keeping an engagement, yesterday morning. He said 
 you promised to come over and see him about a new roof 
 to his barn ; and that he waited in for you a greater part 
 
192 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 of the day. He was dreadfully put out; and in the 
 afternoon, rode over to Beechwood, and engaged a car 
 penter there." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ?" asked Harding, as his coun 
 tenance fell. 
 
 " Very sure. I saw him riding over, myself." 
 
 " I m sorry. If he d known why I was unable to keep 
 my engagement, he would not have acted so hastily. I 
 was, this moment, about going to see him." 
 
 " It won t be of any use, I can tell you. Why didn t 
 ou send him word that it was out of your power to see 
 
 I 
 
 1111 
 
 Ml 
 
 "I should have done so, but didn t think of it." 
 
 " And, what is more," said the neighbour, " Mr. Edgar 
 was going to engage you to build an addition to his house ; 
 but Grant talked so strong about you saying, among 
 other things, that you were not to be depended upon 
 that he concluded to employ another carpenter. So you 
 see, this l little business of yours has proved rather a bad 
 business. But, good morning ! I mustn t stop here." 
 
 The neighbour departed. As he turned his back, Hard 
 ing folded his arms, and leaning hard against his work 
 bench, gave way to feelings of despondency, not un- 
 niingled with reproaches toward Heaven for the hard 
 ness, even injustice, of these cruel reactions. 
 
 ."I ve done nothing to merit this," said he, in partial 
 utterance of his true feelings. " Nothing ! nothing ! 
 Then why am I left without work, though my hands are 
 strong and my heart willing ? God never hedges up a 
 man s way in one direction without opening it in another 
 so says the schoolmaster and so I began to think 
 when Grant came with the offer of one job after I had 
 lost another. But now the way that opened so encou 
 ragingly before me is closed, even before I had set my 
 foot therein. I wonder in which direction it will now 
 open ?" 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 193 
 
 The bitterness of distrust was in both Harding s voice 
 and countenance. 
 
 There s no use in folding your arms and standing 
 idle," said a voice, speaking within him. 
 
 " Of course, not. But what am I to do ?. There s not 
 a single stroke of work, on hand/ The carpenter an 
 swered his own thought thus, speaking aloud. 
 
 " Do something make something. There are lumber 
 and tools in your shop." 
 
 As the inward voice said this, the eyes of Harding 
 rested on a half-finished pine table, which he had com 
 menced in an idle hour, and thrown aside for other work. 
 It was suggested to him to complete the table rather than 
 not do any thing. This suggestion he resisted for a time, 
 because he had no heart to work, particularly as the 
 work promised no return. 
 
 " Finish the table. Somebody will want it." 
 
 The voice spoke again. With something like blind 
 obedience to this inward monitor, the carpenter com 
 menced working on the table. The effort naturally re 
 lieved his mind from the heavy pressure under which it 
 was bowed down. He felt better, but did not know why. 
 He had yet to learn that in all useful work the mind 
 rests with a degree of calmness j that there is a power 
 in true mental or bodily labour, to sustain the spirit in 
 doubt, pain, or sorrow. Once engaged in his task, he 
 pursued it with a natural ardour, and, at the end of two 
 hours, a well-made table stood finished in his shop. He 
 was looking at it with a certain degree of pleasure, when 
 Stark, who had been very shy of him for some weeks, 
 presented himself at the shop-door. 
 
 " The very article I want," said the tavern-keeper, 
 as his eyes fell on the table. "Is it to order, or on 
 sale ?" 
 
 " Three dollars of anybody s money will buy it," an 
 swered the carpenter. 
 
 17 
 
194 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 " Enough said," returned Stark, drawing out his purse. 
 {l Here s the coin. I ll send my Tom over for it in half 
 an hour. And, see here, Harding, if you ve got time, I 
 wish you d make me two good, strong benches, about 
 eight feet long. Some chaps got to skylarking over in 
 niy house last night, and smashed one all to pieces for 
 me. How much will you charge for them ?" 
 
 The carpenter took a piece of chalk, and figured up 
 the cost of the wood. 
 
 " Two dollars apiece," said he. 
 
 "Very well. Make them. How soon will they be 
 done?" 
 
 " As I ve nothing particular on hand to-day, I ll get 
 out the stuff this afternoon, and finish them some time 
 early in the morning." 
 
 "That will do." And the tavern-keeper went hia 
 way, leaving three dollars in the carpenter s pocket, and 
 his mind something easier. The stuff for the two benches 
 was got out, and the work on both nearly completed by 
 sundown, when Harding closed his shop and returned 
 home. On his way, the gloomy, desponding state of 
 mind returned. As he looked into the future, only a 
 wall of darkness loomed up before him. His best cus 
 tomers had left him the season was advanced and no 
 ground to build a hope upon was under his feet. Mrs. 
 Harding saw the heavy contraction of his brows as he 
 entered, and it caused a shadow to fall upon her heart. 
 Had the evil spirit, which the presence of Grace drove 
 out, come back to him again ? Alas ! alas ! if it were so ! 
 Yes, the evil spirit had come back, but, as yet, its power 
 over him was small. It lay in his breast as a live coal, 
 and only waited for the fuel of excitement to kindle a 
 blaze of destructive passion. Happily, that fuel was 
 not supplied. There was nothing in his home to fret or 
 disturb him. His wife spoke to him so kindly, that he 
 could not but answer kindly, and the children were so 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 195 
 
 quiet among themselves, that no cause of annoyance or 
 anger existed in that direction. Still, he remained gloomy, 
 almost entirely silent. 
 
 " I don t know what is going to become of us, Mary/ 
 said he, as they sat together, after the children had gone 
 to bed. The gentleness and kindness of his wife s 
 manner had gradually subdued the state of irritability 
 that threatened so much of evil ; and now he felt like 
 drawing nearer to her letting her share his anxieties, 
 and offer him her sympathy. 
 
 " Why do you say this, Jacob ?" Mrs. Harding raised 
 her eyes to the sober face of her husband. 
 
 " 1 haven t a stroke of work." 
 
 " How comes that ?" The interrogation was so gently 
 made, that it encouraged, instead of repressing confi 
 dence. 
 
 " Dear knows ! I don t just understand it. To mo, it 
 seems very strange, that just now work should all stop, 
 when there s not been a day before, in ten years, that I 
 hadn t as much as I could do. I promised Mr. Grant to 
 call yesterday morning about putting a new roof on his 
 barn. But you know why I couldn t see him. He got 
 angry because I didn t keep my appointment, and gave 
 the job to a carpenter over in Beechwood." 
 
 " That s only a single job," said Mrs. Harding, without 
 seeming to be in the least troubled by the gloomy prospect 
 before them. " You re a good workman, that every one 
 knows. And Fve often heard you say, that a man who 
 does good work, never need fear but what he ll have 
 enough to do." 
 
 " Yes, Mary ; but look how far the season is advanced. 
 Every good job that I expected has gone into other 
 hands, and I don t know a soul that now talks of building 
 even a pig-pen this year. I feel completely disheartened. 
 If we were only a little beforehand, I wouldn t feel so 
 
196 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 bad. But we are not. Every thing is run down, and I 
 haven t ten dollars ahead/ 
 
 Just then some one knocked at the door. Harding 
 opened it, and found a strange man, with a large bundle 
 in his hand. His own name was inquired for. 
 
 " I am the person," he answered. 
 
 "Mrs. Beaufort sent this letter to you" handing a 
 letter " and this bundle to Mrs. Harding" reaching 
 out the package. 
 
 "Won t you come in?" said the carpenter, as he re 
 ceived the letter and package. 
 
 " No, sir. It is late, and I must ride over to Clifton 
 to-night." 
 
 The man departed, and Harding turned back into the 
 house. Breaking the seal of the letter with unsteady 
 hands, he opened it, and read 
 
 " I wish to see you to-morrow. Come over early. If 
 I am not mistaken, I can serve your worldly interests 
 materially. I learn that you are a good workman, and 
 faithful in the performance of whatever you may under 
 take. I am about putting up several outbuildings, and 
 making some important alterations in my house. It is 
 partly in reference to these matters that I wish to see 
 you. " EDITH BEAUFORT." 
 
 "Within this letter, another, directed to Mrs. Harding, 
 was enclosed. 
 
 " Jacob ! Just see here !" By the time her hus 
 band had gathered the meaning of his letter, Mrs. Hard 
 ing was in full possession of the contents of hers. As 
 she thus exclaimed, she held up two bank bills, each 
 claiming the valuation of fifty dollars, while her face had 
 a bright, joyful, wondering expression. 
 
 " Why, Mary I" ejaculated the bewildered carpenter, 
 as he reached out for the letter of his wife. It read 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 197 
 
 "Accept, dear madam, from one who can never for 
 get, and never repay the debt she owes you, the enclosed 
 as a first act of justice. Use it for yourself and children. 
 Accept, also, a few small presents for yourself and them. 
 I have talked much with my mother about you and your 
 good husband since you left us this morning; and I 
 think, if there is nothing to bind you to your present 
 place of abode, that we shall soon have you near us. "We 
 are about making some extensive repairs, improvements, 
 and alterations in and around our home, and my mother 
 thinks that your husband is just the man to whom she 
 can safely intrust their execution. She desires him to 
 see her in the morning. Urge him to come without fail. 
 " Yours, with gratitude, 
 
 " EDITH PERCIVAL." 
 
 " It is broad daylight now." Such were the carpen 
 ter s words, after sitting silent for some moments. 
 
 " The darkest hour is just before daybreak, you know," 
 said Mrs. Harding, her eyes filling with glad tears. 
 
 tl Providence never hedges up a man s way in one 
 direction, without opening it in another. So Mr. Long 
 said to me ; and so I tried to believe. But how can one 
 believe with a mountain rising up in his path, and thick 
 darkness on either side of him ? I cannot." 
 
 " But let us not forget, Jacob" Mrs. Harding s voice 
 was subdued, almost humble "what more the school 
 master said in his kind and earnest talks with us." 
 
 " What did he say, Mary ?" 
 
 " That the hedging up of our way in life, and the 
 opening of new paths, are not for the alone sake of 
 worldly good." 
 
 " Yes, I remember." The carpenter bowed his head 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " But for the sake of heavenly and eternal good/ 
 continued Mrs. Harding. " How much he talked of our 
 17* 
 
198 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 mental wants, and of our mental sufferings ! and as he 
 talked, did we not both see and feel, that mere bodily 
 wants and sufferings were nothing in comparison to 
 these ? The natural event of finding a babe at our door, 
 which we received with reluctance, how much delight of 
 mind it produced ! Now, it was in providence, as Mr. 
 Long said, that the babe was so left at our door ; and does 
 it not seem, that it was so provided for, in order that, 
 through this natural event, our spirits might become 
 better and happier ? Surely, we are all better and hap 
 pier for the presence of dear little Grace among us ?" 
 
 " Have I not said so a hundred times, Mary ?" There 
 was light in the carpenter s face as he said this. 
 
 " And will we not all be better and happier, if we can 
 be where our eyes, every little while, may look upon her 
 angel face ? Oh yes, I know we will, for the sight of 
 that face will lift our hearts upward, and make us desire 
 that spiritual innocence of which, as Mr. Long so beauti 
 fully said, she . was the perfect bodily correspondent. 
 And the desire will prompt us to resist the evils of our 
 r-* - "e; and if we resist evil, you know, it is said that it 
 1 depart from us. Dear husband I" and as Mrs. 
 Carding, animated with her subject, leaned toward him, 
 and laid her hand upon his arm, the carpenter saw, as of 
 late he had seen so many times, the sweet beauty in her 
 face that had charmed and won his love in the time gone 
 by " dear husband ! let us believe that the hedging up 
 of your way in the old direction, and the opening of it in 
 this, is not so much for the sake of worldly prosperity 
 as for the higher good of our spirits. Oh ! is not peace 
 of mind more to be desired than all earthly benefits? 
 It is, Jacob; my heart your heart replies that it is. 
 Let us, then, in accepting the earthly good, look still 
 higher, and claim the better portion that may be ours." 
 
 "You are learning these wise lessons faster than I 
 am, Mary/ said the carpenter, with a tenderness of 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 199 
 
 manner that went to the heart of his wife. {.In the 
 school of good I shall be, I fear, a slow learner. But the 
 apter scholar must have patience with my poor progress. 
 I am hasty, moody, and passionate by nature, Mary, as 
 you know too well. As you overcome, give me aid. If 
 you can keep your heart in the sunlight, mine will not 
 long remain under the cloud. If your sky continues 
 serene, the storm will soon pass from mine. Try and 
 remember this, Mary, and in my darker moods, bear 
 with me. You will surely have your reward." 
 
 "And in my darker moods, Jacob/ answered his 
 wife (l and they will come for I, too, am hasty and 
 passionate : you must bear with me. Oh, let us help 
 one another !" 
 
 The pledges and promises of that hour were never for 
 gotten, as the brighter, happier future attested. On 
 examining the package sent by the mother, of Grace, it 
 was found to contain various articles of clothing for* Mrs. 
 Harding and her children, besides a handsome vest pat 
 tern, and a dozen .fine silk handkerchiefs for the carpen 
 ter. They were gratefully received, coming, as they did 
 so timely, and under circumstances that did not make the 
 gift a burdening obligation. Tranquil was their sleep 
 that night, and the morning of a new day found them 
 looking hopefully into the brightening future. 
 
200 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A MONTH later in the progress of events, and we find 
 the carpenter and his family residing in a small, neat 
 house, on the estate of Mrs. Beaufort, happily relieved 
 from all anxiety about the " bread that perishes," and 
 surrounded with more of taste and comfort than they 
 had ever^ known. Harding had already entered, actively, 
 upon the execution of such work as Mrs. Beaufort first 
 desired, and, thus far, was giving every satisfaction. 
 Why should this not be ? for he was quick and skilful 
 in all the branches of his trade, and perfectly honest in 
 the execution of whatever might be intrusted to him. 
 All that could be done to make Mrs. Harding s new 
 home a pleasant one was done by Mrs. Percival, who 
 came over, almost daily, to see her, accompanied by her 
 babe, whose visits to the carpenter s family ever seemed 
 like the shining in of sunbeams. Grace was still the 
 angel of their household, beating back through her sweet 
 presence to their bodily eyes, or, when absent, to the 
 eyes of their spirits, the natural passions, which, like evil 
 beasts, were striving to devour the innocent affections 
 just born in their hearts, and which were daily gaining 
 strength and beauty. Bright moments to Harding, -in 
 the day s circle of hours, were those in which the babe, 
 borne in the arms of her nurse, came out to see him at 
 his work. If he laid down his axe, his saw, or his plane 
 at such times, that he might take the happy little one, 
 and hold her against his heart, who could blame the act, 
 or deem him an idler from his tasks ? Not a stroke the 
 less was given for these moments of self-indulgence if 
 we may call them by so cold a name for they sent new 
 
THE ANGEL OP THE HOUSEHOLD. 201 
 
 life through the carpenter s nerves, and fresh vigour to 
 his willing hands. 
 
 Only a few weeks were permitted to pass ere the 
 public announcement of Edith s marriage was made, ac 
 companied by such evidence to all interested friends, as 
 removed even the shadow of doubt or suspicion. The 
 fact of the babe s abandonment by its mother at the door 
 of a stranger, was never clearly understood. That it had 
 been in the carpenter s family was known; but under 
 what peculiar circumstances it came there, was a matter 
 of question even to the neighbours of Harding. Beyond 
 this narrow circle, it was taken for granted, that in order 
 to conceal the marriage and birth of the child, Mrs. 
 Harding had been selected as the nurse, and pledged to 
 secrecy in regard to its parentage. Even among the car 
 penter s old neighbours, this theory finally prevailed, in 
 consequence of its adoption by Miss Gimpi 
 
 "I always said" so the dressmaker gossiped, after 
 having settled to her own satisfaction all the difficulties 
 presented by the case "that Mrs. Harding knew a 
 great deal more about the child than she cared to tell. 
 I said this in the beginning, and I ve never altered my 
 mind. You can t make me believe that people like the 
 Hardings would take a strange babe into their house, and 
 treat it even better than one of their own, unless well 
 paid for it. It isn t in nature, much less in the nature 
 of such people." 
 
 And this solution of the matter was pretty generally 
 adopted, thus saving the young mother that crushing 
 odium which must have followed the clear annunciation 
 of her act, even done as it was in a state of partial 
 derangement. 
 
 Two months only had passed, since Edith was pre 
 sented to her friends in her true character, when Colonel 
 D Arcy, not to be baffled in the pursuit of her hand, 
 wrote her a long, earnest letter of sympathy and con- 
 
202 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 fidence, begging forgiveness at the same time for the 
 ardour of his attentions at a period when she must have 
 been bowed to the earth with sorrow a sorrow of which 
 he was " necessarily ignorant" and asking the privilege 
 of occasionally visiting at her mother s house as a friend. 
 Not to leave the matter solely to her unbiassed decision, 
 the gallant colonel wrote also to Mrs. Beaufort, mention 
 ing his letter to her daughter; and frankly saying to 
 her that, notwithstanding the secret marriage of Edith, 
 and birth of a child, now that her husband was dead, he 
 was ready again to offer his hand. Instantly, the smoul 
 dering ambition of this proud woman was fanned into a 
 blaze ; and, once more, she resolved to compass, if pos 
 sible, the long-desired marriage of her daughter. The 
 acknowledgment of Edith s true relation that of the 
 widowed wife of an obscure, young adventurer would, 
 she had not doubted, at once settle all so far as D Arcy 
 was concerned; and this was why she strove so despe 
 rately to prevent its taking place. In consenting to pub 
 licity, she had abandoned her ambitious hopes. Now, 
 they all started again into vigorous life. The hand of 
 her daughter was yet deemed worthy of possession, even 
 by Colonel D Arcy ; the marriage, so dear to her heart, 
 might yet be accomplished; and she instantly resolved 
 that its failure should not be in consequence of any want 
 of effort on her part. 
 
 The two letters came by the same post. Edith had 
 just finished reading hers, when Mrs. Beaufort, the ar 
 dour of whose reawakened purpose impelled to an imme 
 diate interview with her daughter, entered the room 
 where she sat, with the flush of outraged womanhood yet 
 warm upon her cheeks. 
 
 " Is your letter from Colonel D Arcy ?" inquired the 
 mother, slightly hesitating, in the conscious conviction 
 that the subject would be disagreeable. 
 
 (t It is," was Edith s simple yet firm response. 
 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 203 
 
 " He knows of your marriage ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " May I see your letter ?" 
 
 Edith handed the letter to her mother, who, after 
 reading it, said 
 
 " What answer will you make ?" 
 
 " None/ was replied. 
 
 " None ! That will be uncourteous." 
 
 " He is entitled to no courtesy from me," was the de 
 cisive answer, " and will get none." 
 
 " But, Edith" Mrs. Beaufort s face was flushing, and 
 her eyes beginning to glitter. 
 
 " Mother !" Edith interrupted her " what I have 
 said to you, hitherto, about this man, was said from the 
 heart; and I give it a repeated utterance, hardly re 
 pressing a cry of abhorrence. His very name is an 
 offence; and his presence here, if you permit him to 
 come, will be to me an outrage. I understand the hidden 
 import of his glossing letter clearly ; but he writes to me 
 in vain. No not even as a friend will I receive him. 
 Mother ! " 
 
 A hurried step was heard this instant in the hall, and 
 Edith, checking the utterance of what was on her tongue, 
 started, with eager eyes and changing cheeks, to the 
 floor. With hands raised and partly extended, and her 
 gaze riveted on the entrance to the room, she stood, 
 her ear bent to the sounding tread of a man s ap 
 proaching feet. An instant more, and uttering wildly 
 the cry 
 
 " Henry ! Oh, my husband ! my husband !" she 
 threw herself upon the breast of a tall, handsome, em 
 browned young man, who sprung forward to receive her, 
 and catching her eagerly in his arms, covered her face 
 with kisses. 
 
 " Henry ! am I dreaming ?" sobbed the bewildered 
 young creature, as, disengaging herself partly from his 
 
204 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 arms, she gazed into his face, pressing the hair back with 
 both hands from his ample forehead. 
 
 "Not dreaming, Edith, dear," he answered. "The 
 dream is past this is the glad awakening." 
 
 " My husband ! My dear, dear husband !" And, 
 fondly, Edith laid her head upon his bosom. A moment 
 only it rested there ; then, starting up, she caught him 
 by the arm, and, drawing him toward a door that opened 
 into an adjoining room, said 
 
 " Come." 
 
 He followed, as she led. 
 
 "Look!" 
 
 They had entered, and were beside a cradle in which 
 their babe was sleeping. 
 
 "It is ours, Henry! our sweet, precious one! our 
 darling Grace !" And lifting it tenderly, she laid it in 
 his arms. 
 
 As if a blasting spectre had met her vision, Mrs. 
 Beaufort fled to her chamber at the sight of Percival, 
 and was now hidden from all eyes but those of her 
 Maker. She had fully believed him dead, and had re 
 joiced in his death j his sudden appearance, therefore, 
 was as of one risen from the dead. His coming, too, 
 just as old schemes, so long cherished, were about being 
 reconstructed, to scatter all her mad ambition to the 
 wind, seemed so like Heaven s mockery, that, with a 
 crushed, helpless feeling, she shrunk into herself, and 
 bowed her spirit in the bitterness of forced submission. 
 
 Two hours afterward Edith, who knew her too well 
 to intrude during the time, had not even tapped at her 
 chamber-door she came forth, and received the husband 
 of her daughter with a degree of cordiality altogether 
 unexpected. 
 
 "We believed you dead, Mr. Percival," said she. 
 " Can you explain why we were deceived by false intelli 
 gence ? Mr. Maris wrote to us, first, that you were very 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 205 
 
 ill, and soon after, that you had died of a malignant 
 southern fever." 
 
 "I was ill, very ill, for a time," the young man 
 answered, " but not of a malignant southern fever. The 
 physician at the hospital to which I was sent to die, and 
 where, in providence, I was permitted to recover, strongly 
 suspected that I had been unfairly dealt by some of my 
 symptoms resembling in a marked degree the effects of 
 poison/ 
 
 " Poison !" Mrs. Beaufort looked started as she gave 
 almost involuntary utterance to the word. 
 
 " Yes ; and I have now but little doubt that such was 
 the case ; for I learn, with no small surprise, that after 
 my reported death, Colonel D Arcy renewed his offers 
 for the hand of Edith/ 
 
 " Colonel D Arcy ! What of him ? What had he to 
 do with your sickness?" Mrs. Beaufort s countenance 
 became suddenly clouded. 
 
 " I know not that he had any thing to do with it," 
 replied Percival j " but this I know, he was a friend of 
 Mr. Maris, and visited him on the night I was taken 
 sick. They drank wine together, and both urged me 
 with such gracious kindness to take a glass of sherry 
 with them, that I could not refuse. Colonel D Arcy 
 touched his glass to mine, and said, in a singularly 
 altered voice, so it struck me at the moment 
 
 " l Your good health, Mr. Percival/ 
 
 " I did not like the man, for out of his eyes an evil 
 spirit had ever looked at me. On this particular occa 
 sion, that spirit seemed to glare upon me with a kind of 
 malignant triumph. Soon after drinking the wine, I 
 felt an unusual heat in my stomach, which gradually 
 pervaded my system. My head grew heavy and painful, 
 and my body hot and sluggish. On complaining of in 
 disposition, Mr. Maris advised me to go home, saying 
 that a few hours rest would restore me. But so far 
 
 18 
 
206 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 from that, I was in a raging fever all night, and early on 
 the next morning, at his suggestion, as I afterward 
 learned of Mr. Maris, I was sent to the hospital to die. 
 An ordinary fever would have run to its crisis, termi 
 nating in favour of or against the patient, in a certain 
 number of days ; but the fever which had seized upon 
 me was altogether different, and seemed as if it would 
 never tire drinking at my vitals. When, at last, its fire 
 abated, I was left so much exhausted, that small hope of 
 recovery was felt by either physician or attendants. It 
 was more than two months before strength sufficient to 
 bear the weight of my body was gained. Then the life- 
 current began to flow more freely ; and a few weeks of 
 rapid convalescence placed me so near to health, that I 
 ventured to make this homeward journey. Soon after I 
 was taken to the hospital, a man named Henry Percival 
 died in one of the sick wards. Mr. Maris, I suppose, 
 took it for granted that my death was the one reported, 
 and immediately communicated the fact to you." 
 
 For a considerable time -after the young man ceased 
 speaking, Mrs. Beaufort sat with her eyes upon the floor, 
 evidently in deep and troubled thought. 
 
 " There s a dark mystery here," she said, at length, 
 speaking partly to herself. ^ Mr. Maris, then, is a par 
 ticular friend of Colonel D Arcy ?" she added, raising her 
 eyes. 
 
 "They appeared to be very intimate. I often saw 
 them together." 
 
 "It s a strange story." She again seemed speaking 
 to herself. " And I can t make it all out. Colonel 
 D Arcy ? Mr. Maris ? poison ?" 
 
 As Percival looked at her fixedly, he saw a low shudder 
 pass through her frame. A dark suspicion entered his 
 mind on the instant, but he resolutely thrust it out ; and, 
 in doing so, he was but just to Mrs. Beaufort. If he had 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 207 
 
 been dealt by foully, of which there was small reason to 
 doubt, she was no party to the wicked deed. 
 
 A few days afterward, Colonel D Arcy, following up 
 his letters with a degree of confident assurance, made a 
 visit to Clifton, in order to throw the weight of his per 
 sonal influence in the scale, and thus secure a prepon 
 derance in his favour. 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort, now that all blinding antagonism toward 
 Percival was laid aside, and closer contact gave her a bet 
 ter view of his character and a clearer appreciation of his 
 worth, began to find herself drawn toward him with a 
 power of attraction, at first resisted, but hourly gaining 
 strength. His intelligence was of a different order from 
 that by whose glitter she had been attracted througBni|$. 
 It was not the obtrusive intelligence which is assumed 
 for effect illustrating only the pride of its possessor 
 but had in it a soul of moral wisdom a beautiful hu 
 manity, warm with a higher life. Often, as he talked, 
 she listened with something akin to wonder ; and, as her 
 eyes rested upon his animated countenance, she saw in it 
 a manly beauty, caught from the inspiring soul, that com 
 pelled a half-reluctant admiration. Not unfrequently, at 
 these times, would the face of Colonel D Arcy present 
 itself before the eyes of her mind with singular vividness, 
 yet ever marred by an expression, well remembered as 
 peculiarly its own, but now, as seen in contrast with the 
 fine countenance of Percival, felt to be cruel, selfish, and 
 debasingly sensual. Almost with a shudder, at such 
 times, would she close her bodily eyes, seeking to destroy 
 the unpleasant vision. It was on an occasion like this 
 that the servant announced Colonel D Arcy. 
 
 " Impossible 1" exclaimed Mrs. Beaufort, thrown en 
 tirely from her guard. 
 
 The name was repeated. 
 
 " Tell him that I will be down in a few minutes/ she 
 said, recovering herself. 
 
208 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 For some moments the three looked at each other in 
 doubt and irresolution. All of them knew well the object 
 of his visit. Percival was the first to speak. 
 
 " Let us/ said he, " go down together and receive him. 
 He thinks I am dead, if he thinks of me at all. Should 
 my suspicions be true, at sight of me he will be thrown 
 from his guard and betray himself. Come ! Let us go at 
 once/ 
 
 And he arose, moving on a pace or two in the direction 
 of the door. Mrs. Beaufort and Edith followed, as if im 
 pelled by his will the latter carrying Grace in her arms. 
 
 Side by side they entered the parlour where D Arcy sat 
 awaiting some member of the family. 
 
 " Colonel D Arcy I" 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort inclined her body gracefully, and smiled 
 upon her visitor with a bland smile. But he saw not the 
 motion nor the smile, for his eyes were riveted instantly 
 on the calm face of Percival, who, with his young wife 
 shrinking to his side and holding her babe against her 
 bosom, looked at him steadily and sternly. Only for a 
 moment did he stand in the attitude of astonishment as 
 sumed as the unexpected apparition confronted him 
 then, with a look of dismay and a exclamation of terror, 
 he swept past the little group and fled from the house. 
 
 " I did not err in my suspicions," said Percival, speak 
 ing with entire self-possession. u He is guilty of having 
 sought my life. Dear Edith !" he added, as he drew an 
 arm around her, and pressed his lips to her pure forehead 
 " how thankful am I for your dear sake that his wicked 
 purpose failed." 
 
 " My children !" 
 
 The arms of Mrs. Beaufort were flung suddenly around 
 them both. 
 
 1 My children !" 
 
 Her voice choked, and what she would have said further, 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 209 
 
 remained unspoken. Pride could not suffer her to betray 
 the strong agitation she felt. 
 
 There were a few moments of silence. Then she dis 
 engaged her arms, and turning from them, retired with 
 slow and stately steps to her own apartments. 
 
 One scene more, briefly sketched, and the curtain must 
 fall upon our characters. 
 
 A few months have glided pleasantly by. The nearer 
 view that Mrs. Beaufort now had of the son-in-law ac 
 cepted with such an intense reluctance, enabled her to 
 see the higher qualities of mind with which he was en 
 dowed j as well as the sterling virtues already developed 
 in one so young. Her estates were large, and needed the 
 intelligent care of a man who had some acquaintance with 
 legal and landed affairs. This knowledge, the education 
 of Percival had in a measure supplied ] and his calm 
 judgment and integrity of purpose were a guarantee for 
 the rest that Mrs. Beaufort was very ready to accept : and 
 the result involved no measure of disappointment. 
 
 So well pleased was she with our friend the carpenter, 
 that she soon made a contract with him to remain as 
 overseer on her estate, at a liberal salary. 
 
 It was a warm afternoon near the close of the ensuing 
 May, that Mrs. Percival stepped across the broad green 
 lawn that sloped gently from her mother s fine old man 
 sion, and took her way to the pleasant cottage-home of 
 the carpenter and his family, that stood only at a short 
 distance. On entering, she found no one in the sitting- 
 room ; but, with the familiarity of a friend who knows 
 the awaiting welcome at all times, she pushed open the 
 door of the adjoining apartment, when a sight met her 
 18* 
 
210 THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 eyes that made the blood leap warmer from her heart. 
 A week before, had been born in that chamber, another 
 babe ; and it was to see the mother and inquire after her 
 wants, if any were unsupplied, that Mrs. Percival had 
 now come. She supposed that Harding was absent at 
 work ; but this was not so. The fact was, scarcely an 
 hour passed during each day, since the little stranger 
 came, that he did not run in to look at its fair young 
 face, or take it in his great, strong arms, and bear it about 
 the room. He was sitting now near the bed, where lay 
 his happy wife, with her face turned toward him and the 
 babe ; and he was holding the tender little one on his 
 arm, and gazing with a look that could not be mistaken 
 for love, down upon the sweet image of innocence. 
 Around were grouped the children, and little Lotty, 
 standing between her father s knees, was laying her white 
 finger softly on the baby s cheek, and talking to it 
 fondly. 
 
 As Mrs. Percival swung open the door, and at a glance 
 comprehended the scene, she said, with a pleasant fami 
 liarity that her previous intercourse with them war 
 ranted 
 
 " Ah ! nursing that baby again, Mr. Harding ? Why, 
 one would think you d never had a baby in your house 
 before !" 
 
 " We never knew the value of a baby," replied the 
 carpenter, " until yours came to us and won our hearts. 
 Ah ! She was the Angel of our Household, and it was a 
 hard trial to see her go forth never to return again. But 
 God has given us another angel." 
 
 " And may she be dearer to you than the one you have 
 lost," said Mrs. Percival, as she reached over and took 
 the precious burden from the arms of Mr. Harding. 
 " Have you chosen a name for it yet ?" 
 
 Mrs. Harding glanced toward her husband. 
 
THE ANGEL OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 211 
 
 " It was chosen the hour of her birth/ answered the 
 carpenter. 
 
 " Is it Grace ?" 
 
 Mrs. Percival smiled as she made the inquiry. 
 
 " No other name would express our love for her. Yes, 
 it is Grace !" 
 
 " May she indeed prove, as I am sure she will, the 
 Angel of your Household/ said Mrs. Percival, with touch 
 ing solemnity. 
 
 An audible " Amen" broke the stillness that followed; 
 and, as we repeat the word, the curtain falls. 
 
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