PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 From the Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 THE "NO NAME SERIES." 
 
 " LEIGH HUNT, in his ' Indicator ,' has a pleasant chapter 
 on the difficulty he encountered in seeking a suitable and fresh 
 title for a collection of his miscellaneous writings. Messrs. 
 Roberts Brothers have just overcome a similar difficulty in 
 the simplest manner. In selecting ' No NAME ' they have 
 selected the very best title possible for a series of Original 
 Novels and Tales, to be published Anonymously. These 
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 tainly be awaited with curiosity." 
 
 The plan thus happily foreshadowed will be immediately 
 inaugurated by the publication of "MERCY PHILRRICK'S 
 CHOICE," from the pen of a well-known and successful writer 
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 It is intended to include in the Series a volume of anonymous 
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 The "No Name Series" will be issued at convenient inter- 
 vals, in handsome library form, i6mo, cloth, price $1.00 each. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 BOSTON, Midsummer, 1876.
 
 "NO NAME SERIES." 
 
 The First Series, completed, 
 
 COMPRISES TWELVE NOVELS, VIZ., 
 
 MERCY PHILBRICK'S CHOICE. HETTY'S STRANGE HISTORY. 
 
 IS THAT ALL? WILL DENBIGH, NOBLEMAX. 
 
 KISMET. THE WOLF AT THE DOOR. 
 
 THE GREAT MATCH. MARMORNE. 
 
 A MODERN MEPHISTOPHELES. MIRAGE. 
 
 AFTERGLOW. GEMINI. 
 
 AND TWO POETICAL VOLUMES: 
 
 DEIRDRE. A Novel in Verse. 
 
 A MASQUE OF POETS. Original Poems, by Fifty Poets, written spe- 
 cially for this book; including " GUY VERNON," an entire Novelette in 
 verse. 
 
 Fourteen volumes in all, uniformly bound in black cloth, red 
 and gilt lettered. Price, $1.00 each. 
 
 NO NAME [SECOND] SERIES. 
 
 The new series will retain all the peculiar features which 
 made the first so popular, differing from it only in the style 
 of binding. Now ready. Price, $1.00 each. 
 
 SIGNOR MONALDINI'S NIECE. 
 
 THE COLONEL'S OPERA CLOAK. 
 HIS MAJESTY, MYSELF. 
 
 MRS. BEAUCHAMP BROWN. 
 
 SALVAGE. DON JOHN. 
 
 THE TSAR'S WINDOW. MANUELA PAREDES. 
 
 Our publications are to be had of all booksellers. When 
 not to be found, send directly to 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
 BOSTON.
 
 NO NAME SERIES. 
 
 MANUELA PAREDES.
 
 NO NAME SERIES, 
 
 "Is THE GENTLEMAN ANONYMOUS? Is HE A GREAT UNKNOWN?" 
 
 DANIEL DERONDA. 
 
 MANUELA PAREDES. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 1881.
 
 Copyright, 1881, 
 BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. ON THE RIGI 9 
 
 II. LUCERNE ' . . 28 
 
 III. ANDERMATT 41 
 
 IV. THE FURCA 52 
 
 V. THE BARONESS .WALDEYER 61 
 
 VI. THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK 78 
 
 VII. THE RISING TIDE 93 
 
 VIII. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER no 
 
 IX. BARON WALDEYER 131 
 
 X. MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES 148 
 
 XL ONE EVENING 165 
 
 XII. A CHANGE OF SCENE 179 
 
 XIII. GLENWOOD AND JULIA 197 
 
 XIV. " YOUTH AT THE PROW" 211 
 
 XV. DISTRACTION 228 
 
 XVI. IN COLORADO 248 
 
 XVII. HOHENTAUBEN 270 
 
 XVIII. THE VEXED QUESTION 288 
 
 XIX. THE PASSING CLOUD 304 
 
 XX. ENTER JULIA 321 
 
 XXI. AND MR. DYSART 343 
 
 XXII. AND THE CHORUS 363 
 
 2200610
 
 " The sense of the World is short, 
 Long and various the report. 
 To love and be beloved, 
 Men and gods have not outlearned it, 
 And how oft soSer they^ve turned it, 
 'Tis not to be improved"
 
 MANUELA PAREDES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THE RIGI. 
 
 IT was a warm afternoon in the latter part of June. 
 A gentle breeze from the north was driving high 
 the few white clouds in a sky of perfect blue. Two 
 young men, leaving the Kaltbad Hotel, half way up the 
 Rigi, had gradually ascended until they reached the 
 base of that shoulder of the mountain which is called 
 the Rothstock ; there they turned northward, and began 
 to climb its grassy slope, often pausing and turning 
 toward the grand view which opened wider ranges at 
 each upward stage. They did not know that they were 
 only a few hundred yards below the little summer-house 
 which crowns this minor peak, and had seated them- 
 selves to watch the cloud-shadows trooping across the 
 blue lake, and the green fields and forests beyond. Be- 
 hind them the grassy slope rose sharply. 
 
 The younger, a boy of twenty-one or two, was a fair 
 type of life at its fairest. From his broad, low forehead 
 heavy masses of chestnut hair were pushed back beneath
 
 10 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 a broad felt hat. Large blue eyes, a full mouth, fine 
 teeth, and a bold, frank air comported well with his 
 erect and muscular figure, and gave promise of a man- 
 hood fit for labor and apt for adventure. 
 
 The elder brother was evidently nearing forty. From 
 his forehead the hair had receded and was rather closely 
 cut over the high crown, its dark brown streaked here 
 and there with a silver line. The deep-set, steady 
 eyes, the strong jaw, prominent nose, thin and mobile 
 lips, and the full beard, shaven on the upper lip only 
 and draping the lower face and the sinewy throat, be- 
 tokened a man positive, tenacious, resolute, expert. In 
 repose his face might seem stern, but the light of 
 thought and the shadow of emotion swept over it so fast 
 that such an impression of his character could not well 
 abide. His tall and well-rounded figure also, by its 
 quick and precise movements, indicated alert and dis- 
 ciplined self-reliance. 
 
 The brothers had been silent for some moments, ab- 
 sorbed in the panorama beneath them, when the elder 
 spoke. "Walter, don't you hear voices behind and 
 above us?" 
 
 " Yes, women's voices j they '11 be rolling stones down 
 on us presently." 
 
 Even as he spoke a dark object sprang from the edge 
 of the ledge above them, and, passing quite over their 
 sheltered seat, fell at their feet. 
 
 The younger shouted, " Look out there ! " adding, as 
 he glanced at the missile, " That 's no stone, though." 
 Lifting it from the ground, he found a leathern box in-
 
 OAT THE RIGI. II 
 
 closing a large opera or rather field glass, and bearing 
 in gilt letters the name 
 
 ADRIAN DYSART, N. Y. 
 
 The elder took the box from his brother's hand, and 
 said, " Walter, I know that name. We must go and see 
 who has dropped it" 
 
 A climb of a few minutes brought them in view of 
 the upper slope, which receded above the brink of the 
 ledge under which they had been seated, and revealed 
 the figures of two women, slowly retracing their steps 
 from the edge of rock whence the glass had sprung and 
 been lost to sight. The parties were separated by a 
 hundred yards or more, and the ladies, who were a lit- 
 tle above and in advance, did not notice the approach 
 of the brothers, who had thus the opportunity of exam- 
 ining the persons of their unconscious neighbors. 
 
 They were too unlike to be sisters. The elder was 
 somewhat above the ordinary height of women. Her 
 erect carriage, firm step, and the rounded symmetry 
 of her figure betokened physical perfection and un- 
 troubled health. A full throat supported a small and 
 well-poised head, and the face when turned toward the 
 observer showed a rosy mouth, a straight nose with thin 
 nostril, eyes full in form and in color like brown sherry, 
 and hair of the same shade, rolled in wavy masses from 
 the brow to the small ear, and knotted behind in sunny 
 coils. Form and face recalled more than one type of 
 classic beauty; there were suggestions of the Venus 
 Victrix, of Athene, and of Artemis. Her dress, of soft
 
 12 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 stuff, was of one shade, a dark olive, and relieved 
 by a broad belt of bronzed leather, bordered with golden 
 lines. The broad, low hat of black and white straw 
 which shadowed her face was crested with a knot of 
 poppies and golden wheat. Her age might be twenty- 
 five, perhaps a little more. Her companion, a plump, 
 fair girl of twenty, was habited in a coquettish mountain 
 costume of gray and blue, which suited well her golden 
 hair, soft gray eyes, and the arch regard in which lurked 
 at once ready reserve and familiar ease. 
 
 The ladies had gained the little summer-house, and 
 turned to seat themselves, before they perceived that 
 they were not alone. 
 
 A moment later the elder gentleman advanced, with 
 the glass in his outstretched hand. " If I am not mis- 
 taken, this is yours," he said. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, yes, it is ours," and the elder lady 
 stepped forward to receive it. " I am so glad to get it 
 back, for my father has had it a long time, and it suits 
 his eyes perfectly." 
 
 " You are a daughter, then, of Mr. Dysart, the banker 
 of New York? I have the pleasure of knowing him 
 slightly." 
 
 " Indeed ! Do you know my father ? You must be 
 an American then ? Yes, I am Helen Dysart." 
 
 " And may I introduce myself as Robert Audran, a 
 Colorado farmer, and my brother, Walter Audran, an 
 undergraduate of the Harvard Law School." 
 
 " Let me in return introduce you both to Miss Alice 
 Carroll, of New Brunswick," replied Miss Dysart, smil-
 
 ON THE RIGL 13 
 
 ing. " We are glad to meet you, particularly since you 
 know my father." 
 
 " Your father is not with you at present, I presume, 
 Miss Dysart, as I left him in his banking-house less than 
 three weeks since." 
 
 "No. Only my mother and brother are with us. 
 They are coming up from Lucerne this afternoon to 
 spend a day or two on the Rigi. They, too, will be 
 glad to see some one direct from New York. I hope 
 papa seemed well and happy when you parted from 
 him." 
 
 Robert smiled. " I thought so, certainly, Miss Dy- 
 sart. He was looking in admirable health and seemed 
 to be very busy." 
 
 "And what about New York, Mr. Audran? the 
 dear, the beautiful city! One needs to have known 
 these dead-and-alive old towns to appreciate New 
 York." 
 
 " I fear that I can tell very little of that part of New 
 York which probably interests you most, Miss Dysart. 
 My recent observation of it has been mostly limited to 
 the stage-route between Wall Street and the Hoffman 
 House." 
 
 " Oh, it all interests me. I was born in Rutgers Street, 
 went to school from Bleecker, had my first party in 
 236, and have now retired to 57th Street." 
 
 " I am afraid I have not been in any one of those 
 localities for five years. I can only tell you that when 
 I came up town in the afternoon the streets were full of 
 ladies, making purchases, I suppose, for the summer
 
 14 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 vacation; and one day, a beautiful May afternoon, 
 when I drove to the Park, I thought I had never seen the 
 place so lovely or so full of people. The trees were in 
 their freshest leaf, the turf was smooth as velvet, wis- 
 taria-blooms covered the trellises, the larch and spruce 
 showed their finger-tips of pale green, clover and honey- 
 suckle scented the air ; the four-in-hands were out, there 
 was a base-ball game on the Green, children were riding 
 on ponies and in goat-carriages ; it was brighter than 
 Hyde Park ten times over, and more beautiful than the 
 Bois de Boulogne." 
 
 " Oh, how charming it sounds ! " said Helen. " I am 
 there at this instant; and I suppose if we have any 
 common acquaintances we shall find it out by and by. 
 I must not begin by asking you if you know this one 
 and that one." 
 
 "I know hardly any one, Miss Dysart, for I never 
 spent a week at a time in New York, and my brief 
 visits are always passed at a hotel." 
 
 " Well," said Helen, " I suppose we are not here, in 
 the presence of all these mountains, for the first time, 
 to cultivate our memories, are we ? " 
 
 " No, I suppose not," answered Robert, " unless our 
 memories are the best part of us : if so, they should be 
 cultivated everywhere. But pardon me for even seem- 
 ing to suggest that the past can have more of interest 
 than the future for a lady so young as yourself." He 
 began the sentence with a glow of pleasure at the 
 forming thought, and finished with the hesitation which 
 marked a sense of danger in its utterance.
 
 ON THE RIGL IS 
 
 She interpreted both as she answered, "I hope so 
 certainly ; and yet, 
 
 " the past will always win 
 A glory from its being far, 
 And orb into the perfect star 
 We saw not when we moved therein.' " 
 
 She looked up, with a little blush, and a startled 
 expression at finding herself quoting poetry. But there 
 was a sudden light in his eye and a thrill in his ear, as 
 he recognized the extract from a book half of whose 
 pages were long ago transcribed upon his own brain. 
 There is no introduction so comprehensive as the recog- 
 nition that our own solitary pleasures have also been 
 those of another. From that moment each knew that 
 there were threads of sympathy woven between them 
 far beneath the surface. 
 
 " Perhaps," continued she, " it would be better that 
 you should tell us something of that which lies before 
 us here." 
 
 " I can do that more satisfactorily," said Robert. " It 
 is a new aspect of an old scene with me. I spent five 
 months in Switzerland ten years ago, though I never 
 climbed the Rigi before." 
 
 "To me it is all new," said Helen. " We came from 
 Bale yesterday ; this is our first excursion." 
 
 "You have a great deal of pleasure before you, 
 then." 
 
 " Was it a good plan to get our first impression of 
 the Alps from this point ? " 
 
 "Hardly so, I think. You have lost part of the
 
 1 6 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 pleasure of approach by setting yourself within the 
 open door at once. You should have seen this pano- 
 rama from some more remote and northern point, 
 from the Uetliberg at Zurich; or if you had turned 
 from your route at Soleure and ascended the Weissen- 
 stein, from either of those points, you would have seen 
 most of what is now before you lying low and dim on 
 the southern horizon, while you would also have seen 
 how the Alps reach down their arms into the plains of 
 Germany and France, in the Vosges and the Odenwald 
 on either side of the Rhine, and the Rauke Alp of 
 Wurtemburg and the Austrian Tyrol. You would have 
 seen, too, the relations of the lakes and rivers and 
 mountains to each other, which it is difficult to realize 
 as you go from one to the other in detail. And you 
 would also have had the great pleasure of studying the 
 essential forms of the mountains, so that you could 
 identify them by name at each forward step, though 
 they might each time show you a different facet of the 
 crystal. For the ordinary traveller the Rigi is the last 
 practicable external point of view as he advances 
 toward the semicircle of mountains which stretches 
 round from the Vorarlberg, through the Engelberger 
 group and the Bernese Oberland, to the Jura. You 
 are here on the chord of the arc, the string of a 
 strongly bent bow. Don't you think it would have been 
 better to have had your first view from the centre of the 
 circle ? Here the northern third of that circle is out 
 of sight entirely." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I do think so," said Miss Dysart, and
 
 ON THE RIGI. 17 
 
 the shadow of a genuine regret passed across her 
 beautiful face. " I wish we had been so fortunate as to 
 find an adviser as intelligent as yourself in time. You 
 seem to have made a study of Switzerland." 
 
 " Mountains have always been a study to me. I was 
 born among the hills of New England, and have chosen 
 my home among the Rocky Mountains." 
 
 " Tell me, then," said she, " is it the study which 
 has awakened the love, or the love which has developed 
 the study ? " She spoke impulsively, and the instinct 
 that her question was too personal for slight acquaint- 
 ance made her cheek burn. 
 
 Mr. Audran observed and rightly interpreted the 
 blush as he replied, " Oh, they cannot be divided. Each 
 will grow with the other if at all ; neither would be 
 worth anything if it were not so." 
 
 " Our friends seem to have begun already," said 
 Miss Dysart, glancing toward Walter and Alice, who 
 had left the summer-house and were seated on the bank 
 below. The youth was pointing with his alpenstock to 
 the horizon, and the girl was intently following with her 
 eye. " May I not have a lesson ? " 
 
 So Robert began, weaving together history, geography, 
 legend, and science, stories of Caesar and Hannibal, 
 Diocletian and Maximin, Charles the Bold and Prince 
 Eugene, Napoleon and Suwarrow, Escher and Agassiz, 
 De Candolle and Dufour. There is much in a fit audi- 
 ence, and Robert himself was surprised at the continual 
 inflow of suggestions and memories as, from this Mount 
 of Vision, the wholg chain of the Bernese Oberland rose 
 
 2
 
 1 8 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 clear and fair before them in the light of the western 
 sun. 
 
 At length the younger party returned to the summer- 
 house, and Miss Dysart, resuming her parasol and 
 field-glass, said, " I can hardly tell you, Mr. Audran, 
 how much I am indebted to you. You have not only 
 restored my glass, you have opened my eyes to use 
 it. But we must return to the Staffel. My mother 
 and brother are probably there by this time. I hope 
 we may meet again." 
 
 To which Robert replied, "We too have taken 
 rooms at the Staffel by telegraph, and were on our 
 way thither when we met you." 
 
 After supper the two parties encountered each other 
 in the public room of the hotel, and Helen presented 
 the gentlemen to her mother. Mrs. Dysart seemed 
 about fifty years of age, but retained much of the fresh- 
 ness of youth, and a vivacity of manner which Robert 
 better understood when he learned something of her 
 history. 
 
 Eugenia Mavrosigi was the daughter of a Greek 
 merchant, who, as a boy, had wandered from Smyrna to 
 Boston, where he entered the employ of a house in the 
 Mediterranean trade, in which he presently became a 
 partner, and the son-in-law of the senior member. 
 His eldest daughter had received part of her education 
 in a private school at Portsmouth, where her favorite 
 teacher had been Lucy Elmer, afterward the wife of 
 Stephen Audran, and the mother of our friends. Miss 
 Mavrosigi, after leaving school, had for a time lived in
 
 ON THE R1GI. 19 
 
 Glasgow, where her father was acting as the resident 
 factor of the Boston house, and there she met and 
 married Mr. Adrian Dysart, at that time an engineer 
 and afterward a banker in New York. During her for- 
 eign residence, she lost sight of her friend, now buried 
 in the interior of New Hampshire, where her husband, 
 Mr. Audran, had large possessions in lumber lands on 
 the head-waters of the Saco and Androscoggin Rivers. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart was delighted at the opportunity of learn- 
 ing something of the fortunes of her former friend, and, 
 more enthusiastic and less reserved than her daughter, 
 gradually drew Robert into many details of his family 
 and personal history. 
 
 They learned that from his first boyhood he had been 
 accustomed to accompany his father on his long visits 
 to the wilderness, where he spent several months of 
 each year in moose-hunting and trout-fishing, reluc- 
 tantly given up a little later for college life at Harvard ; 
 how, by his father's death in 1858, he had been left to 
 the care and charge of a large and involved estate, 
 which had forced him to leave college, and to spend five 
 years of arduous work, for the most part in the forest. 
 By the death of his mother, in 1862, he had become the 
 guardian of his brother, and in 1863 had found himself 
 at liberty to enter the military service as Major of a 
 Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers. At Spottsylva- 
 nia, in 1864, he was so seriously wounded in the lungs 
 that his life had been long in danger, and his career as a 
 soldier was absolutely closed. In 1866 he had returned 
 to his law studies at Heidelberg, but, after prolonged
 
 20 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 and often-renewed experiment, had been obliged to 
 accept the verdict of his physicians, that the conse- 
 quences of his wound would never allow him to become 
 either advocate or jurist, and that if he would live at all 
 his life must be passed in the open air. It was then 
 that he had spent a long summer in Switzerland, and 
 travelled through the East as far as India. Health 
 had gradually returned to him, and seemed to be en- 
 dangered only so often as he made the attempt to 
 return to a studious or sedentary life. Four years 
 previously he had become the owner of a Colorado 
 cattle-farm, upon which, for the larger part of the time 
 since, he had been living. 
 
 He had come on to New York, he told them, to con- 
 fer with certain parties about the opening of railway 
 connections in Colorado, and, finding that no important 
 action would be taken before September, had deter- 
 mined to spend the interval in Switzerland and Ger- 
 many. His brother had been for two years preparing 
 for the profession which he himself had been obliged 
 to forego, and after this summer vacation would settle 
 himself for a period of study at Heidelberg. 
 
 In return for these confidences, Mrs. Dysart explained 
 that after a severe illness a year previously, she had 
 been advised to spend a summer in England, an autumn 
 in France, and a winter at Nice, from which latter place 
 she had returned two months before to Paris ; and, 
 St. Moritz being recommended for August and Septem- 
 ber, had determined to give the intervening time to 
 such travel in Switzerland as her own strength per-
 
 ON THE RIGI. 21 
 
 mitted, allowing to her children any larger opportunity 
 which occasion might afford. 
 
 During this conversation, Helen, her brother Eugene, 
 a fine, manly boy of nineteen, and Miss Carroll, had been 
 talking with Walter, or listening to his brilliant music at 
 the piano. 
 
 The candles were beginning to sputter in their sockets 
 when Mrs. Dysart closed the conference, and the party 
 separated for the night. 
 
 The next day they went to the Schiedeck to dine, 
 and to get the beautiful prospective of the lake which 
 that point affords. Returning to the Rothstock before 
 sunset, they lingered far into the soft summer evening, 
 entranced by the stories and the poetry which Robert, 
 inspired by the scene, the hour, and the audience, re- 
 cited to them. When they parted it was arranged that 
 at three o'clock on the following morning, horses should 
 be ready to carry the two young ladies to the Kulm to 
 await the sunrise on the highest point. 
 
 Miss Dysart's room was at the rear of the house, and 
 as she lay with closed lids awaiting sleep, the pictures of 
 the day lakes of sapphire and turquoise, innumerable 
 snow-tipped mountains rose and rose within her dark- 
 ened eyes ; the-fresh night wind, sweeping up the valley 
 above Goldau, fanned her cheek and played in her soft 
 hair, bringing with it the- scent of hillsides covered with 
 June flowers and the far-off chime of a thousand cattle- 
 bells. " Surely," said she, " this is the paradise of the 
 senses and the imagination." 
 
 Mr. Audran was the first astir on the following morn-
 
 22 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 ing. At three o'clock he sent off a porter with a roll of 
 carpet to spread upon the damp grass of the mountain- 
 top, a bundle of rugs, and the materials for making 
 coffee. Very soon the young ladies made their appear- 
 ance in ulsters and veils. Robert swung Miss Dysart's 
 lithe and elastic figure to her saddle ; Walter rendered 
 like service to Miss Carroll. Eugene led the way up 
 the stony road of three fourths of a mile which connects 
 the Staffel with the Kulm, and in little more than half 
 an hour the party were seated on the topmost knoll. 
 Forever after, that morning mystery of beauty remained 
 a fair and vivid picture in the memory of each one of 
 them. 
 
 The night was not dark, but heavy with dampness ; 
 the moon, in her last quarter, with down-turned horns, 
 hung low in the west ; the blue dome above was set with 
 fading lights, the morning star flamed in the forehead of 
 the eastern sky ; strands and pencils of auroral gray 
 streamed in the north, narrow bands of dark cloud on 
 the distant horizon were bordered with a pale yellow 
 streak. How still it was ! On the faint undertone of 
 far-off, falling waters and whispering trees only the 
 shrill note of the cricket in the grass was thrown. As 
 their eyes became wonted to the pathetic blending of 
 moonlight, dawn-light, and dream-light they saw that a 
 floor of white mist was spread high above the lake and 
 over the region beyond ; it filled all the valleys and 
 wound up the gorges of the hills. Ridge beyond ridge 
 they rose, like islands in a white sea. Flushes began 
 to grow upon and succeed each other in the east,
 
 ON THE RIG I. 23 
 
 pearl, rose, violet; brightening into -liquid, serene, wide- 
 spread amber. 
 
 Helen's face glowed with its radiance as she brok'e 
 the long silence with Milton's lines, 
 
 1 Hail, Holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born ! 
 Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice 
 Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest , 
 
 The rising world." 
 
 She paused, with dew-gemmed face uplifted, and Rob- 
 ert added to her text fit commentary from Bacon : 
 
 " The first creature of God, in the works of the Days, was the 
 light of Sense ; the last was the light of Reason, and his Sabbath 
 work ever since is the illumination of his Spirit. First, he breathed 
 light upon the face of matter; then he breathed light into the face 
 of man ; and still he breatheth and inspireth light into the face of 
 his chosen." 
 
 She heard him with moistened eyes and swelling 
 heart, but a moment after her voice rang clear and 
 fresh, " See ! oh, see ! " 
 
 The mountains, which till now had shown their feet 
 wound with wreaths of mist, and their cloven crests out- 
 lined black upon the golden sky, were just catching the 
 rays of the yet unrisen sun. Pinnacle and dome and 
 spire flashed back their welcome ; the cone of Uri red- 
 dened, the shoulder of Titlis gleamed, the brow of Wet- 
 terhorn glittered, and the crown of the Jungfrau lifted 
 high the orison of the Alps. Then came the great 
 sun, broad, shorn of its rays, climbing through the 
 clouds which clustered in its path until its planting 
 beams glanced across the summit on which they stood,
 
 24 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 projecting their shadows far on the banks of fog below, 
 like the spectral shapes of the Brocken. Borne on the 
 rfsing wind, battalions of fog swept up the ravines of the 
 mountains, to melt in warmer air as they passed the crest, 
 as melt the columns of assault in the blaze of parked 
 artillery ; and even so, when the white day shone down 
 upon the^ party, the exaltation and enthusiasm of that 
 twilight hour gave place to the more human and trivial 
 moods of every day. 
 
 Gathering up their couch of shawls, they began 
 the descent. Half way down the steep Miss Dysart 
 called to Robert, and asked him to get a pebble for 
 her from the bank of conglomerate which lined the up- 
 per side of the road as a memento of the morning. With 
 the spike of his alpenstock he dug from the breccia an 
 egg-shaped nugget, so smooth and heavy and cold that 
 he said, as he handed it to her, " By its weight that 
 should be a black onyx ; and if you permit me I will 
 have some charm or trinket made for you and myself 
 from it." He got no answer, perhaps expected none, 
 as he added gayly, " For the present I will carry it ; 
 sometime you shall see part of it again." 
 
 Mrs. Dysart was waiting breakfast for them at the 
 hotel, and curious to learn something of their excursion. 
 The elder members of the party were singularly silent, 
 but the lively Alice came to the rescue of conversation, 
 describing the darkness and the light, the mountains and 
 the mist, winding up her story with, " O auntie, it was 
 just awfully grand and beautiful ! It was like an infi- 
 nite cathedral, with incense and music, and high mass
 
 ON THE R1GI. 2$ 
 
 and benediction." And a smile of assent rose to every 
 face. 
 
 They were to return to Lucerne at two o'clock, and 
 meantime the ladies retired to make up their lost sleep. 
 
 Miss Dysart was ill at ease. Who was this man who 
 had beguiled her into enthusiasm ? Was he amusing 
 himself by drawing out her fancy, imagination, and sym- 
 pathies ? What was he ? A chance acquaintance, not 
 three days known. She was vexed with herself and 
 piqued at him. Was he intentionally doing this ? Would 
 he continue it ? He was a man of the world, secure 
 in a large experience of society, ready to weave a little 
 web of romance when occasion suited, and equally 
 ready to break the thread when need were. By de- 
 grees her complacency returned. " Forewarned is 
 forearmed," she said. " If it pleases him to give me 
 pleasure, I can take it as it flies. It is too agreeable 
 to be needlessly foregone. I am not a child to be 
 run away with. If this unlocking business is to go 
 on, why should not I also open a chamber in his con- 
 sciousness now and then ? " 
 
 So she went to sleep, with a smile upon her sweet 
 lips, and she saw her own smile, an hour later, as she 
 stood before her glass arranging the rippling bands of 
 hair around her classic head. 
 
 Mr. Audran was the only member of the party who 
 did not seek sleep. A little chilly, after the exposure 
 of the morning, he found a warm corner of the piazza, 
 turned his back to the brilliant sun, stretched himself 
 along a convenient bench, and, lighting his morning
 
 26 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 cigar, fell into a review of his aspect of the situation. 
 A verse of Shelley was haunting his memory, and now 
 it came to his lips : 
 
 " A lady, the wonder of her kind, 
 Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind, 
 Which, dilating, unfolded her mien and motion 
 As a sea-flower 's unfolded beneath the ocean." 
 
 Firm and fair and fine was she. Nature had given 
 her health perfect as her form. He knew the worth of 
 that, for even at that moment he was conscious of a pang 
 where the bullet, in passing through his chest, had twice 
 shattered a rib. She at least did not know what it was 
 to breathe with pain. Years of well-appointed life and 
 thoughtful culture had ripened that Ionian grace which 
 he fancied had come to her through her Greek mother. 
 He had at home a bronze vase, found at Herculaneum ; 
 she might have been the model for that figure of 
 Ceres impressed upon it. How sweet were the tones 
 of her voice, how crisp and perfect her articulation, how 
 warm and soft the touch of her shapely hand ! And 
 over all lay an air of regulated impulse, of clear sense, 
 and loyalty to common life. What a piece of good for- 
 tune to meet her, what a blameless pleasure to know 
 her better, to guide her feet and her fancy through this 
 Alpine land, which had for him such a perennial charm ! 
 Was there harm in it ? Not to her at least, he thought. 
 He was a ranchman, leading a lonely life in the bleak 
 solitudes of Colorado : she was encompassed with the 
 light and charm of a brilliant social life, already 
 pledged to some man of fortune and position, for all he
 
 ON THE RIGI. 
 
 knew. Such were about her constantly, no doubt. She 
 had but to accept one of these fortunate lovers to be 
 installed in some home stately and rich as her father's 
 house, in which he had recently spent an evening. And 
 she was old enough and wise enough to know the value 
 of such things. 
 
 And how about himself? He had been schooled in 
 disappointments ; his youth had been passed in the rude 
 forests of the north, fighting for the fortunes of his fam- 
 ily ; manhood had been darkened by that eclipse of life 
 which followed the battle-day at Spottsylvania ; his plans 
 and ambitions had dropped dead again at Heidelberg, 
 where he found himself sinking under, the confinement 
 of study ; and now that he was strong again, his youth 
 was gone from him, he had grown wonted to solitude 
 relieved only by books, had become exact and self-indul- 
 gent in his ways, and believed that he could not and 
 would not now submit them to be reorganized by any 
 woman. But why should he throw away this little 
 chance episode which had intruded itself into his self- 
 ish life ? It might disturb his pulses for a moment, but 
 it would warm and brighten his memory by and by. He 
 would be careful that no attention of his should ever 
 compromise her, he would neither seek nor take what 
 she might not discreetly give and happily remember. 
 
 So it came about that they all reached Lucerne that 
 evening in good order, and well content with themselves 
 and with each other.
 
 28 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 A 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LUCERNE. 
 
 T Lucerne, letters were awaiting both parties. Miss 
 Dysart's was from her sister, as follows : 
 
 NEW YORK, June 18. 
 
 DEAR HELEN, Your last (Paris, May 24) came 
 in due season on the 3d of June, and was as welcome 
 as it was entertaining. After tiresome Nice, Paris must 
 have been delightful. How I would like to have been 
 with you at Versailles and Neuilly, and to have shared 
 your evening drives in the Bois de Boulogne ! We were 
 delighted to hear Dr. Gudin's encouraging report about 
 mamma, and hope her experience at St. Moritz will sus- 
 tain his opinion. Probably this letter will find you 
 somewhere in Switzerland, and you will have a splendid 
 time before you go to the Baths in August. I wonder 
 if you will anywhere meet a Mr. Audran, from Colo- 
 rado, who had some business awhile ago with papa about 
 a railroad. He came up to 57th Street one evening to 
 finish a conference begun down in town. They spread 
 their maps all over the dining-room table, and talked 
 about canons and coal-beds and wool. Papa said he 
 was a very intelligent man, and he would have liked to
 
 LUCERNE. 29 
 
 present him to me, but he did not know I was in the 
 music-room, so I did not see him ; but I liked to hear 
 him talk, and wondered if he were a specimen of Rocky 
 Mountain culture. He seemed more like a professional 
 man than a farmer, and if you meet him I know you 
 will like him. We are all well, at least I am, but I am 
 not quite at ease about papa. I think he misses you 
 and mother very much. I can see that he is not so 
 light-hearted as he used to be. He does not seem to 
 me to talk so much as usual, and I hear him walking 
 to and fro in his room almost every night. If I speak 
 to him, he is just as kind as ever, but he turns me off, 
 or says that business is troublesome just now. A few 
 weeks ago, a man whom I never saw before (a Mr. 
 Louis Fayrolle) spent an evening here alone with him. 
 The interview seems to have troubled father, and he 
 has not been the same since. What can it be ? Noth- 
 ing, I dare say ; for the other day, when I went over to 
 Brooklyn to see Mathilde, I stopped in at the banking- 
 house. Father was not there. Mr. Carlin must have 
 thought I was fishing for information, for he said they 
 were very busy, and business was satisfactory. That 
 was a good deal for Mr. Carlin, was n't it ? It is begin- 
 ning to be very warm in town. Papa says we must open 
 the house at Glenwood next week, and probably stay until 
 October. I shall be glad to go there. It seems a great 
 deal of needless trouble to keep this great house going 
 for only two people ; and in that sweet little cottage on 
 the river, it will not be so lonely as it is here, all the 
 day long. I am getting more and more wrapped up in
 
 30 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 my music. Genevieve comes, and we read together 
 hours at a time. We went the other day to a private 
 organ recital at Steinway's, by Lindberg, a new man, 
 a Swede, about whom Morgan was very enthusiastic. 
 People are going out of town fast ; half the houses on 
 the block are shut. Please bring home photographs 
 good large ones of everything interesting ; it will help 
 me so much to realize what you have done. If you do 
 meet that Mr. Audran, he told papa he was going to 
 Switzerland for three months, be civil to him, for papa 
 says he is worth cultivating. Every chance you have, 
 you or mother must write to papa, it will cheer him up ; 
 and, please God, we shall all be together again by the 
 middle of November. With much love to mamma, 
 Eugene, and Alice, 
 
 Your affectionate sister, 
 
 JULIA DYSART. 
 
 Helen was disturbed by this letter, and in doubt at 
 first whether she should show it to her mother. A 
 moment's thought decided the question. " Mother's 
 interest is greater, her knowledge more, her judgment 
 better than mine. If trouble be coming, she has skill 
 to deal with it ; if disaster, courage to bear and sym- 
 pathy to impart." 
 
 But Mrs. Dysart was as much perplexed as her 
 daughter. Neither knew any cause for care or anxiety 
 which could oppress Mr. Dysart. His letters to them 
 had all been cheerful, and he was pressing money upon 
 them with no hint of economy. So they came to the 
 conclusion that Julia, who was perfectly devoted to her
 
 LUCERNE. 31 
 
 father, must have been unduly nervous about him, and 
 that there was no real occasion for concern. 
 
 The old Cathedral of Lucerne contains one of the 
 finest organs in Europe, and three times a week in 
 summer it is played by a master from six to eight in 
 the evening, generally without choir or service, often 
 without listeners, an offering to Art and Religion the 
 worthier that it is rendered at the hour appointed, 
 whether men care to listen or not. 
 
 Mr. Audran had proposed that they should go together 
 after an early dinner. The shadows were lengthening, 
 but the evening sun still shone hot upon the lake side 
 of the cathedral close. The clock was on the stroke 
 of seven as they entered the aisle ; a current of cool 
 and fragrant air breathed over them, and the closing 
 door shut out the passing world. They were alone ; 
 only in the far transept one black-robed figure knelt 
 before a lighted shrine. From the high western win- 
 dows bands and clouds of color fell across nave and 
 chancel, lighting up the faded banners on the walls, and 
 the sculpture of the pillars ; Pentecostal tongues of 
 flame glowed upon the heads of apostles and saints, a 
 sheen of gold bathed the uplifted wings of a cherub, 
 and a beam of violet fell upon the beautiful white side- 
 altar. The church itself, gray with age, but threaded 
 through with light, seemed less the work of men's hands 
 than a symbol, grown out of the faith of a race and 
 impregnate with the devotion of generations. 
 
 In such an atmosphere the conditions and conven- 
 tions of present life lose their sway, and visions of the
 
 32 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 life which is past and of the life which is to come rise 
 upon the abstracted mind. And thus they were lifted 
 and borne upon the surge of music rolling from the 
 great organ. The artist, unseen, absorbed in his theme, 
 knew not and cared not for any listener. The fugues 
 of Bach, a psalm of Mendelssohn, and finally one of 
 Mozart's masses were evolved without any sense of hu- 
 man presence or agency. The thunderous bass stirred 
 the air with heart-shaking vibrations. As the sun's 
 morning beams, striking across the sands of the desert, 
 warm and expand the columns of air enclosed in the 
 great statue of Memnon until aeolian tones breathe 
 from those old and stony lips, so at evensong, in the 
 glow of parting day, the columns of the great instru- 
 ment sent up from their brazen throats volumes of 
 quivering and thrilling sound. The pathetic wail of 
 the Kyrie gave place to the aspiration of the Sanctus, 
 and the rapture of the Amen crowned the triumph 
 of the Gloria. And so, silently, pervaded and har- 
 monized by one emotion, they passed out into the pur- 
 ple evening, and saw the waxing stars tremble and the 
 black mountains slumber in the darkened mirror of 
 the lake. 
 
 The gleaming lights of the hotel and the rattle of car- 
 riages recalled our friends from their trance. They were 
 soon seated in a corner of the supper-room, discussing 
 the plans of the morrow over their tea. It had been 
 arranged that the younger members of the Dysart party 
 should take a short excursion under Mr. Audran's 
 guidance, Mrs. Dysart meanwhile going on to Inter-
 
 LUCERNE. 33 
 
 laken, where they were all to rejoin her two days later ; 
 and Robert had to answer a host of questions as to 
 outfit, costumes, routes, and halts. Busy as he was 
 kept, he did not, however, fail to notice a gentleman 
 and lady who stood a moment at the door of the 
 room, then entered, and moved to a table not far 
 from themselves. The gentleman, rather large and 
 stout, with a military air and carriage, might have been 
 a man of thirty-five. A round and close-cropped 
 head, shaven face, waxed and pointed mustache and 
 imperial, black paletot buttoned once, with a minute 
 strip of crimson ribbon near the top of the left lappel, 
 suggested a Frenchman and a soldier. The lady was 
 probably twelve or fifteen years older, for her abundant 
 hair was snowy white, and her face, though smooth and 
 unwrinkled, had lost something of the firmness of its 
 outline. She had a clear olive complexion, black eye- 
 brows and eyes ; shoulders still plump and shapely 
 showed beneath the fall of black lace which hung from 
 the back of her head and was gathered in a loose knot 
 upon her bosom ; her figure was tall, inclining to em- 
 bonpoint ; diamonds flashed on a beautiful hand as it 
 moved in frequent gesticulation ; and the whole impres- 
 sion was that of one impulsive by nature, but experienced 
 and thoroughly disciplined in the ways of the world. 
 
 The two were apparently talking of their own affairs 
 over a bottle of Moselle and a plate of biscuit ; but 
 something in their manner gave Robert a sense or a 
 suspicion that they were really more interested in watch- 
 ing his own party. 
 
 3
 
 34 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 They seemed to time accurately their stay in the 
 room so as to quit it a few steps in advance of the 
 Dysarts, and as the lady gathered her ample train in 
 her hand, she managed, not quite accidentally as Robert 
 thought, to leave some object upon the chair which she 
 had occupied. 
 
 Robert would have called a servant, but Miss Dysart 
 picked it up, and, stepping quickly forward, said, 
 " Madame ! " The lady turned,' with a little air of sur- 
 prise, as Helen, with outstretched hand, continued in 
 French, " This is your card -case, is it not? You left 
 it upon your chair." It was received with a graceful 
 inclination, and a very sweet smile accompanied the 
 words, " Mademoiselle is as good as she is charming. 
 It is the politeness of a Russian or an American." And 
 drawing from the case as she spoke a couple of cards, 
 she presented them to Helen. Helen read, " Mme. la 
 Baronne Waldeyer," " Baron Waldeyer," a jewelled 
 crest flashed on the card-case. 
 
 Helen's eyes sparkled as she answered, "Yes, madame, 
 I am an American, bourgeoise. We have no titles." 
 
 " None but those which you win. I too was once a Re- 
 publican," added the baroness. " May I know the name 
 of the gracious lady to whom I am indebted ? " 
 
 " I am Miss Dysart, of New York, and this my mother, 
 Madame Dysart," said Helen promptly. 
 
 A nervous tremor passed across the baroness's face 
 as she exchanged a glance with her companion. The 
 two elder ladies saluted each other, the baroness smil- 
 ing graciously, Mrs. Dysart reserved and stately. After
 
 LUCERNE. 35 
 
 a little pause the baroness added, " We live at Colmar 
 in Alsace ; and, lest our cards mislead you, I must ex- 
 plain that monsieur is the younger brother of my late 
 husband and the successor to his title." Then, turning 
 to Helen, " Miss Dysart will excuse my freedom, for 
 her face recalls a friend of my youth. Do you stay 
 long at Lucerne ? " 
 
 Helen answered quietly, " We leave to-morrow, all 
 of us except my mother, who goes to Interlaken a day 
 or two later." And as they had now reached the stair- 
 way, the parties divided, with courteous farewells, and 
 went their different ways. Robert's happened to coin- 
 cide with that of the baroness and her escort, and the 
 latter took up the conversation. 
 
 " And is monsieur also an American ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Robert, " I am a citizen of the United 
 States." 
 
 " Ah ! what a grand country ! What vast extent ! 
 What marvellous resources ! " said the Frenchman. 
 " What education a century of republican liberty, begun 
 and ended by a lustrum of heroic war, has given to your 
 countrymen ! In the days of the First Empire France 
 called herself La Grande Nation ; but you will claim, 
 and we must soon concede, that rank to you." 
 
 Robert answered, "And Americans feel now a new 
 interest and sympathy for France, which has survived 
 terrible disaster and entered so fairly upon a career of 
 republican life. Our colors, if not our flags, are the 
 same : we both show the red, white, and blue. Am I 
 right in regarding the Baron Wakleyer as a soldier of 
 the French army, and a friend of the republic ? "
 
 36 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " In both instances, monsieur. I entered the service 
 in 1862 as a pupil of St. Cyr, and left it last year as 
 lieutenant-colonel of the chasseurs of Vincennes. An- 
 other war would probably see my return to the service. 
 Has monsieur a military record also ? " 
 
 " Much less prolonged than yours. I served two years 
 in our war of the Rebellion." 
 
 " In that case I hope you will allow me to learn some- 
 thing from you. I have so long desired to understand 
 the American campaigns, which differ much from any of 
 modern times in Europe. Mme. la Baronne will excuse 
 us if we adjourn to the piazza." 
 
 An hour later they were still busy with comparisons 
 and reminiscences over their cigars, and when they 
 parted Robert .had quite forgotten the suspicion with 
 which he had at first regarded the strangers. 
 
 The lake-reflected sun threw its dancing lights upon 
 the ceiling of Robert's chamber when he woke, and 
 wisps of white mist, rising along the tree-covered hill- 
 sides, gave promise of at least one fine day. His first 
 thoughts were disturbed by a sense of the responsibilities 
 which he had assumed. What business had an old fellow 
 like himself to undertake the care of two young women 
 in a three days' tramp over mountains and wastes, he 
 muttered. Ten chances to one they would all wish them- 
 selves well out of it before the excursion were half done. 
 If anything should miscarry, it would spoil the pleasure of 
 the relation which had grown up between them. How 
 careful he must be to keep himself and them, all the way, 
 all the time, on the perilously fine line between enthu- 
 siasm and common-sense !
 
 LUCERNE. 37 
 
 While he was pursuing such speculations, Mrs. Dysart 
 came to him on the piazza., full of her own version of the 
 same themes. 
 
 " Mr. Audran," said she, " I hope you appreciate how 
 very much I am obliged to you for your invitation to 
 my children. They have been tied to me quite too long, 
 and obliged to forego for my sake a thousand things 
 which tempted them. This excursion will delight them, 
 and they will remember you very kindly for giving it to 
 them." 
 
 " If I could only be sure, Mrs. Dysart, that they would 
 not be overtired or disappointed, it would be the pleas- 
 antest thing that could happen to me. You will tell me 
 just what I must do or may do for them, how much I 
 may tax, and how much I must spare them. I am not 
 used to the care of young ladies, and perhaps they will 
 not accept care from me. Will they hold me innocent 
 if they find me ignorant :* " 
 
 " They will do just as you say, Mr. Audran." 
 
 " But that will make my responsibility all the greater. 
 Have you no cautions to give me ? " 
 
 " Your readiness to ask for them is the best proof that 
 they are needless. Helen is very sensible, very full of 
 resources; she will be ready for anything; and Miss 
 Carroll will do whatever Helen desires. They spent a 
 vacation together in the Catskills two years ago, and 
 are used to mountain climbing. Both are perfectly 
 well. You need not be too anxious about them. But 
 if you will tell me just what your plan is, it may help 
 them to make suitable preparations. They will thank 
 you for every little hint you can give."
 
 38 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 Robert unfolded his programme for each day of the trip, 
 adding, " The ladies can each carry a small satchel by 
 strap or hand, and a larger for which I will find convey- 
 ance. They should have a change of easy walking-shoes, 
 dresses short and light for walking, something to shield 
 the face from sun and wind, coats and shawls for the 
 chance of a storm. I think of nothing else. We can 
 communicate with you by telegraph, from which we shall 
 never be more than three or four hours away." 
 
 " Shall they take food or stimulants of any sort, 
 cordials ? " 
 
 " Not if you will trust me, madame. I was myself an 
 invalid so long that I know very well what may be needed 
 on an excursion of a few days." 
 
 " At least you will carry this," said Mrs. Dysart, hand- 
 ing him a heavy little purse. 
 
 " If you require me to do so, madame ; but remember 
 how lone and forlorn my life by myself is. Might I not 
 be host for this time, since I so rarely have the oppor- 
 tunity? You cannot realize how much I enjoy the 
 chance of such society, what a privilege it is, or how 
 long and pleasantly it will be remembered." 
 
 " We will owe you everything but money, Mr. Audran. 
 I cannot look at you without recollecting how much I 
 owe to your dear mother, whom you so much resemble." 
 
 When the party assembled after breakfast, Miss Dy- 
 sart, to whom her mother had rehearsed Mr. Audran'a 
 suggestions, was disposed to be satirical. 
 
 " We ought to be very much obliged to you, sir, for 
 your detail of proper wardrobe for us. It is a habit of 
 your military life, perhaps."
 
 LUCERNE. 39 
 
 " Yes, Miss Dysart ; it is usual to see that one's 
 command is properly equipped." 
 
 " Yours to command, sir ! Shall we parade for in- 
 spection and muster ? Shall we open our knapsacks ? 
 We may have started without brushes and combs, per- 
 haps. What would happen then ? " 
 
 Robert lifted his eyes to the rippling masses of her 
 brown hair, and answered, "You would be forced to 
 borrow mine, which would make them more valuable 
 to me forever." 
 
 " Oh, how embarrassing a man can be when he takes 
 to compliments ! " said she. 
 
 "You don't seem very much embarrassed, Miss 
 Dysart." 
 
 " No, I have heard such things before ; but there 
 will be no chance for you this time." She drew a little 
 tortoise-shell comb from the aumoniere which hung at 
 her belt, as she spoke. " Now, to go to the other ex- 
 treme, how do you find these ? " raising her skirt to 
 show a stout sole studded with small steel nails. 
 
 "I find them evidences of a sound understanding, 
 Miss Dysart." 
 
 "And these ?" extending her hands, neatly fitted with 
 drab gauntlets & suede. 
 
 " I cannot say that I think so well of those." 
 
 " And why not, pray ? " 
 
 " For two reasons. In the first place they will almost 
 dissolve when they are wet." 
 
 " Your second reason should be better, for in the 
 first you are mistaken."
 
 40 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " Put your glove in a glass of water for two minutes, 
 then wring it, and look at the water and the glove, and 
 you will see." 
 
 " Do you suppose I am going to spoil my glove to 
 promote your complacency ? " 
 
 " It is enough, you admit it would be spoiled ! " 
 
 " I do not admit it ; I simply defer the test until I 
 know whether I have to make further appeal from your 
 omniscience. What is the second reason ? " 
 
 " I don't know about giving it to one who is so afraid 
 of being embarrassed." 
 
 " I know it is too trifling to be told." 
 
 u It is no trifle : it is true, it is unanswerable." 
 
 " Indeed ! I wait to be convinced." 
 
 "Well, then, I say it is a pity that the hide of a rat 
 should hide the hand of a lady." 
 
 " That will do, Mr. Courtier of Colorado. If it had 
 been that Frenchman with the mustache dree, I should 
 not have been so much surprised." 
 
 " Baron Waldeyer is a very fine gentleman, Miss 
 Dysart." 
 
 " Without debate. We are not looking for fine gentle- 
 men just now." 
 
 " I think you had better keep your chaff until you get 
 back, Helen," said Mrs. Dysart. 
 
 " No, mother ; we shall be under too great obliga- 
 tions to Mr. Audran by that time. Now is our chance, 
 if ever."
 
 ANDERMATT. 41 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ANDERMATT. 
 
 'T^HE steamer was already at the quay, as the little 
 -- procession moved from the hotel, Robert attend- 
 ing Mrs. Dysart. They parted at the gangway, and 
 the travellers, going to the upper deck, saw at the 
 farther end Baron and Baroness Waldeyer already 
 seated. 
 
 Helen went straight up to them with a graceful 
 morning salutation. " And are you too leaving Lu- 
 cerne ? " said she. 
 
 The baroness answered, "We go only to Fitznau, 
 and shall return in two or three hours. To-morrow we 
 go to Interlaken. And your mother, is she not with 
 you this morning ? " 
 
 " No. She also goes to Interlaken shortly," said 
 Helen. "We shall join her there on our return from 
 the excursion upon which we are now starting." 
 
 " Your mother is very courageous thus to allow her 
 whole family to leave her," said the baroness, glancing 
 over the party already seated near by. 
 
 " Oh, not all of us are hers, only myself and my 
 brother Eugene," indicating the boy. " The others
 
 MA NUELA PA R EDES. 
 
 are friends. Miss Carroll travels with us. The Messrs. 
 Audran are but recent acquaintances." 
 
 " I see now," said the baroness, " there is no family 
 likeness except between yourself and your brother ; but 
 neither of you resemble your mother greatly." 
 
 " We are both said to be like our father. My mother 
 is repeated in my sister Julia, who remains at home 
 in America." 
 
 "You are three, then, and no more?" inquired 
 the baroness. 
 
 " Only three," said Helen. 
 
 " Your mother must be so happy in you ! I feel it, 
 for I, alas! have no children. One I had, she would 
 have been about your age, but she is gone from me," 
 said the baroness. " In the order of nature we survive 
 the friends of our childhood.; it is only in children that 
 we can keep our hearts alive. The baron has been in 
 the place of a son to me. If it were not for him, I 
 should be alone in the world. When the death of my 
 husband left me thus lonely and gave to the baron an 
 estate, he left the army to make a home with and for 
 me ; but I cannot hope to keep him always. He is 
 a senator of France, a commander of the Legion of 
 Honor, with an immense talent for affairs. I ought 
 not even to wish to detain him from the life which I 
 cannot share with him. It would be different if I had 
 a daughter like you ; but then, perhaps, she too might 
 wish to leave me," glancing at Mr. Andran. " It is one 
 of your English poets, I think, who has so well rendered 
 a sentiment of our provincial, Pascal,
 
 ANDERMA TT. 43 
 
 " Why should we shrink and fear to live alone, 
 Since all alone so Heaven has willed we die?" 
 
 But it is very selfish in me to think and speak so sadly 
 when I am with you, my dear young lady " ; and with a 
 quick, almost convulsive movement, she drew Helen 
 toward her and kissed her forehead. 
 
 Helen drew back in surprise. She had not dreamed 
 of such effusive tenderness in a stranger ; but she saw 
 that the eyes, which had seemed so haughty and cold 
 the evening before, filled with tears, and that the lips 
 were trembling with a genuine emotion ; and, with an 
 instinct as sudden and sincere as that of the baroness, 
 she returned the kisses on both cheeks, as she said, 
 " Dear lady, I am sure you will always have some one 
 to love you." 
 
 " It is easy to see that mademoiselle has found the 
 way to my sister's heart," said the baron ; and he rose 
 and removed his hat, with admiring eyes. 
 
 The remainder of the party were too far away to hear 
 this conversation, but they watched the tableau with 
 astonishment. The baroness noticed their surprise, 
 and, rising with dignity, extended her hand to Helen 
 with a lovely smile, as she said, " My dear, I shall hope 
 to see more of you at Interlaken. You will forgive me 
 for having made a scene here. Adieu." The baron 
 bowed profoundly, the baroness took his ready arm, 
 and they walked slowly to the bow of the boat. A 
 few moments later they passed on shore at the first 
 landing. 
 
 Helen rejoined her friends. Alice was the first to
 
 44 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 speak her surprise. " Well, Helen, of all things in this 
 world ! You ! What is it all about ? " 
 
 " I don't know ! I don't know! " she answered, almost 
 sobbing. " I don't understand it any more than you do. 
 She has made me perfectly nervous. She seemed to be 
 so unhappy and so tender-hearted." 
 
 " But why should she have shown either to you ? and 
 why should you, of all people in the world, have gone to 
 pieces in that way, all at once ? " 
 
 Helen answered, " I will tell you what was said, and 
 you may make out of it what you can " ; and she re- 
 counted the words with perfect accuracy. 
 
 Alice listened with an incredulous air, and said, " I 
 think it was a very pretty piece of acting all round." 
 
 Helen's eyes flashed. " You ought to be ashamed to 
 say such a thing of me at least. There was nothing 
 but gentle thought and feeling in her, I am sure." 
 
 Alice continued perversely, "Well, I don't believe that 
 a person who could pose and swim, as she did last night, 
 and then break and stiffen- in that sort of way, can be 
 sweet and sound all through." 
 
 "Perhaps not," answered Helen. "Not many people 
 are ; but I am sure she has a sweet and tender heart. I 
 don't know when I have been kissed in such a way. 
 Poor, poor woman ! " 
 
 " What do you think, Mr. Audran ? " said Alice. 
 
 " I think I understand both of you on this occasion," 
 answered Robert, " much better than I do the baroness ; 
 ,and I believe with Miss Dysart that she was, for the 
 time, overpowered by some sudden and honest instinct.
 
 ANDERMATT. 45 
 
 How long it will last and what will succeed it I could 
 not venture to predict." 
 
 " And what do you say of the baron ? " asked Alice. 
 
 " I should say that he behaved with perfect propriety 
 to both ladies, and was as honest as his sister. I liked 
 him very much last night." 
 
 " We shall see more of them, I presume," said Helen, 
 who had regained her usual serenity. " Mother will 
 have formed an opinion about them by the time we get 
 to Jnterlaken." 
 
 A little after noon the boat reached Fluelen. They 
 were soon secure in their places on the top of the dili- 
 gence, and traversing the valley of the Reuss, rich in 
 historical interest. Monastery and convent and feudal 
 tower came into view and were left behind. The scen- 
 ery grew wilder and more rugged hour by hour as the 
 long valley links contracted. Plelds of purple moss 
 covered the rocky slopes, and the mouths of wild and 
 dark gorges opened and closed upon them as they 
 passed. Now they skirted smooth reaches of river, and 
 again wound around the face of jutting ledges, far above 
 the thundering torrent. The valley became a chasm, 
 close-walled with barren rock. A cold wind, spray-laden, 
 came from the plunging waterfalls above them. Here 
 and there a mountain peak, snow-tipped and ruddy with 
 evening glow, rose above the rock wall over their heads. 
 Premature twilight gathered around them asthey crossed 
 the Teufelsbriicke in a cloud of spray, and the blackness 
 of midnight seized and shrouded them in the long tun- 
 nel of the Urner Loch. At length, from its dark portal,
 
 46 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 they issued into a pale green Alpine valley, set among 
 snowy mountains and lit by still stars, whose twinkle 
 seemed repeated in the lights of Andermatt just before 
 them. The jaded horses were forced into a gallop, a 
 cloud of steam rose from them in the cold night air, and 
 the first day's journey ended as they drew up at the 
 porch of the Hotel Oberalp. 
 
 After supper they went to the parlor, a simply fur- 
 nished room, but rich with the warm glow of an open 
 wood fire which threw soft, dancing shadows up and 
 down the wall. There was a piano in the room, and 
 Helen, sitting down, began to play. Her musical in- 
 stinct seemed to grow with that on which it fed as she 
 ran on with remembered fragments from Beethoven, 
 Gounod, Liszt, dreamy, yearning, sorrowful, jubilant. 
 Her swift white hands gleaming along the keyboard, the 
 grace of her lithe and mobile figure, and her brown eye 
 glancing in the firelight which played upon the side of 
 her face made a charming picture. 
 
 Robert sat at the end of the piano, awed, delighted, 
 and amazed, as the river of harmonies, long and bright, 
 flowed on, drawing its liquid treasure from every cave 
 and spring of the human spirit. Helen's image, grace- 
 ful and sweet, lingered on his mental vision long after 
 they had separated for the night. Was she the ideal 
 woman, of whom, before his morning star grew dark, he 
 was always dreaming ? Many a time he had for a mo- 
 ment fancied that he had found her, and many an image 
 which his young heart had glorified had turned to clay, 
 sometimes very paltry clay. The frolicsome child,
 
 AN DERM ATT. 47 
 
 whom he had vainly tried to invest with a purpose and 
 a soul ; the gay young girl, who numbered and published 
 her conquests ; the fair egoist, in whose fondness, even, 
 was revealed only self-love and a hysteric perspective 
 of great exactions and small requitals ; the pretty fool, 
 whose graces could not conceal her emptiness ; the pas- 
 sionate creature, whose hot-hearted and wrong-headed 
 nature contained infinite probabilities of error; the de- 
 signing flirt, who was always " taking account of stock " ; 
 the weakling, dissolving in fears and tears when the sig- 
 nal for action was flying, what contrasts all these 
 made to this charming, just-discovered Helen ! It was 
 no longer possible to conceal or deny it to himself : she 
 had taken possession of his thoughts. For three nights 
 he had dreamed about her, and he took it for a sign that 
 it would be well to analyze the nature of his emotions. 
 It would never do for him to " go all to pieces," as Alice 
 said, before he knew it. 
 
 He must think the matter out Nothing could be par- 
 doned to him on the score of youth or inexperience of 
 the world. And Helen herself was so alert, so absolute 
 in her self-control, that she might understand him before 
 he knew himself. She must be more than twenty-five. 
 A physical organization so perfect could never have 
 known any period of eclipse ; consequently for many 
 years she had been an object of admiration and de- 
 sire, a beautiful woman, like Princess Zobeide in the 
 Arabian Nights, " a delight to beholders and a tempta- 
 tion to God's servants." Her father's wealth, her metro- 
 politan home, her education and accomplishments, had
 
 48 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 no doubt brought around her a court of admirers. With 
 every mode of approach and pursuit she was familiar ; 
 and since she remained Miss Dysart, and heart-free, she 
 must also be familiar with every form of defence and 
 evasion. But was she heart-free ? He had no clew by 
 which to answer his own question. Certain it was that 
 if free she were, it must be because she was uncommonly 
 hard to win. He did not wish her less difficult. To 
 him there was a special charm in her vestal temper ; it 
 might be less yielding, less fond, but it must be of purer 
 and richer tone. A nature so sufficient for itself must 
 have great reserves of treasure to impart. There would 
 indeed be force and breadth and depth in such compan- 
 ionship. This would be no light o' love, needing to be 
 watched and nursed forever. On such a faith a man 
 might rest. There was vision in her faculty, guidance 
 in her counsel, succor in her strength, and would there 
 not be rapture in her tenderness ? 
 
 What chance of all these for him ? His life was 
 more than half-spent. It had been devoted to the re- 
 demption of the fortunes of his family and to the ser- 
 vice of his country ; but a few years since his life itself 
 had hung in the balance, and until very lately had been 
 compromised by the possible results of his old wound. 
 It would not befit the honor, which in his inmost heart 
 he paid her, to drag down her bright life with the care 
 and weight of his infirmity. Supposing the years to 
 come were to be weary and hard as the years that 
 were past, to join her lot to his would be to clip her 
 bright wings, to fetter her beautiful feet, to divert her 
 ambition from its true and rightful aim.
 
 ANDERMATT. 49 
 
 What had he to offer, what fortune or estate, what 
 position ? He possessed a few thousands in bank, a few 
 sections of prairie and meadow, where as yet only 
 buffalo-grass would grow, lying far away on the confines 
 of civilization, outside of all society or culture or art. 
 At what he called his home he had a jabbering Mongol, 
 epicene of form and office, who wore a blue cotton 
 blouse, baggy trousers, and served as cook, laundress, 
 and chambermaid; a cute but coarse Yankee for a 
 partner and manager ; a few forlorn Mexican herdmen, 
 and now and then, by way of guest, a stray Ute or 
 Navajo Indian. Could he offer her a share in such a* 
 life as that ? Preposterous ! But what else was there ? 
 His scheme had been well laid. Thus far, success had 
 exceeded expectation. His last sale of cattle had 
 netted him five thousand dollars, and his herds were 
 doubling, and would double year by year. He had a 
 great scheme of irrigation which was to transform 
 the vast plains, where now the bunch-grass and the 
 gama scarcely hid the gray cinders of the soil, into 
 fields of waving wheat and the purple bloom of the 
 alfala. But all this was prospective, and were he now 
 to retreat and attempt to realize upon his scheme, he 
 would secure only some thirty or forty thousand dollars, 
 not much more than the sum which her father's 
 family expended in a single year, and he would be 
 absolutely without an occupation or an aim. And no 
 man in such a position, he felt, could long command 
 and retain Miss Dysart's interest and sympathy. The 
 
 life of an idler and a dilletante would suit neither of 
 
 4
 
 50 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 them. Action, progress, and a worthy ambition were 
 the conditions of life for both. 
 
 Must he, then, give up the thought, and with it her, 
 elect, precious, rare ? 'T would be the end of love for 
 him. Forty now, he would be fifty before the reasons 
 which governed this case would cease to govern all. 
 The glow, the bloom, was fading out of his life. From 
 twenty to thirty, the young man had many a time 
 "lightly turned to thoughts of love." Strong as was 
 his determination to seek and to accept no ties which 
 could embarrass him in the work which was laid upon 
 him, yet so abiding and subtile was the attraction of 
 women for him that he had never been long without an 
 object for his dreams. However remote and solitary 
 his life might be, it had always kept an altar-flame 
 alight, if only to an unknown divinity. But more than 
 once he had tasted the sweetness of some fresh young 
 heart, and, with an effort at self-repression which wrung 
 every fibre of his soul, had fled from contact to cherish 
 his remote and solitary worship of the ideal. And in 
 his later years, during the stir of war, the eclipse of the 
 sick-room, the renewed grasp after the material objects 
 of life, nature, subdued at every turn, had grown weary 
 of love without hope. Upon his altar now for years 
 had been only the ashes of a smothered heart. 
 
 Of late he had more than once said to himself that, 
 obedient as he had always been to the leadings of duty, 
 the time might come, must come, years hence, at fifty, 
 perhaps, when it would be as necessary for him to 
 have a wife as hitherto it had been necessary not to
 
 ANDERMA TT. 5-1 
 
 have one. Thus he would take on matrimony and 
 spectacles about the same time. Both of them would 
 be evidences of decay, clear cold flint, gold-rimmed. 
 Meantime he must thrust from him this sudden, heaven- 
 sent opportunity. None like it ever was, ever would be, 
 this pure, warm -young creature, this " spring of youth 
 and hope and love and gladness," dropped into the 
 " winter of his discontent." Yes, he should probably 
 have to content himself with the spectacles, and he 
 must put away forever his dreams and visions of maiden 
 charms, of the final and coy caress, of . the heart un- 
 worn, the mind unbound, 
 
 " She who stands beside me like my youth, 
 Transforms for me the real to a dream, 
 Clothing the palpable and the familiar 
 With golden exhalations of the dawn." 
 
 He was sitting bent over the fire, now smouldering. 
 Two sticks which had kindled fell apart, the burning 
 surfaces grew dim and were covered with ashes. He 
 turned them over and laid them close against each 
 other. Each reinforced the heat of the other, the air 
 drew up between them, and lighted the coals to a new 
 glow ; presently a light flame wavered all along the line 
 of contact. He waited until they were burned out, and 
 then he rose, with a couplet of Landor on his lips : 
 
 " I warmed both hands before the fire of Life. 
 It sinks, and I am ready to depart."
 
 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FURCA. 
 
 XTOTWITHSTANDING his vigils, Robert was the 
 * ^ first astir next morning. His earliest care was 
 that provision should be made for an ample breakfast, 
 not approving the Swiss custom of a roll and a cup 
 of coffee as preparation for a day of cold and exposure ; 
 his next was a visit to the stables, where he inspected 
 and selected an open carriage capable of accommodat- 
 ing six, striking every tire and wheel, examining every 
 bolt and nut. A similar inspection was given to the 
 harness, and to the eyes and feet of the horses. 
 
 Helen watched the process from the window of her 
 chamber with approval. It was quite in keeping with 
 her idea of Mr. Audran. She said to herself that, in 
 camp or in court, so bold, practical, and provident a 
 spirit would command success, accepting no poor ser- 
 vice, brooking no contradiction. It was evident that he 
 was accustomed to be obeyed : it was to be hoped that 
 he was not in the habit of being arbitrary. 
 
 It was a rude morning. Leaden clouds were piled in 
 the west on the far-off summit of the Furca, and on the 
 nearer ridges of the St. Gotthard ; a little powdering of 
 snow lay over the short grass ; the Reuss, shrunken to
 
 THE FURCA. 53 
 
 a rivulet, fretted feebly down the valley ; the northern 
 sides of the great bowlders were white with snow, and 
 the southern and western damp with rain. The chance 
 of improved weather was in the coming day ; and Rob- 
 ert, surveying the preparations of the ladies carefully as 
 they came to the piazza to take their places in the car- 
 riage, thought that nothing could be neater or more 
 complete, large gray ulsters, little gray felt hats, tied 
 down with long blue veils, the ends of which were 
 crossed behind, and knotted at the throat in large 
 bows. The light of a quickened life was in their eyes, 
 the rose and pearl of youth unworn upon their cheeks ; 
 their sunny looks lent a cheer to the gray, unsmiling 
 day. 
 
 The first part of the route followed the zigzags of the 
 Urseren Thai, which, like a broad and shallow groove, 
 divides the Italian summits from those of the Bernese 
 Oberland. Planes of retl-brown rock, sometimes bare, 
 sometimes heath-covered, sloped gently down to the 
 little stream, and between, the road slowly mounted the 
 long incline toward the west. 
 
 Walter and Eugene sat beside the driver, Mr. Audran 
 and the ladies in the body of the carriage. 
 
 " How do you find this, Miss Alice ? " asked Robert. 
 
 " Perfectly splendid," she answered. " Here we are 
 on the very roof of the world. Nobody knows, and 
 nobody cares. We are just having our own way, all by 
 ourselves. Oh, if you gentlemen could only know how 
 delightful it is for girls to get out of Mrs. Grundy's sight, 
 and not to be forced to walk in her ways ! "
 
 54 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 *' But surely you don't mean to say that Mrs. Gruncly 
 has ever been hard on you," said Robert. 
 
 "Indeed I do. I mean to say that every young girl 
 who lives among people has to sacrifice, perpetually, 
 her innocent pleasures and instincts, for fear of being 
 misunderstood and talked about. And I mean to say, 
 also, that the restrictions about girls are twice as many 
 and twice as hard as those for older ladies, and that 
 they are twice as hard to bear. So, you see, I have 
 twice two are four, and twice four are eight eight 
 times as much of a quarrel with Dame Grundy as my 
 mother, for example." 
 
 "And what do you suppose your mother in New 
 Brunswick would say if she knew just what her daughter 
 was doing this morning ? " 
 
 " She would be delighted, I 'm sure, and would say 
 that it was very good of somebody to have contrived so 
 much pleasure for all of us. flow are we going to pay 
 our debts, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 " Don't distress yourself, Miss Alice. When it begins 
 to be a sacrifice to provide pleasure for you, and to 
 share your enjoyment of it, we will go our ways and you 
 shall go yours. It is very good of you too to come so 
 far out of your road on the chance of being repaid. 
 What, for example, are you looking for to-day? Do 
 you know where you are going and what you have come 
 out into the wilderness for to see ? " 
 
 " No, I know nothing about it. Do you, Helen ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Helen, " thanks to Mr. Audran's descrip- 
 tion on the Rigi, I seem to myself to understand, in 
 part at least."
 
 THE FURCA. 55 
 
 " Will you give us your idea of it, then ? " said 
 Robert. 
 
 " I know," said she, " that the boat brought us to the 
 foot of indeed, part way through the wall of moun- 
 tains which bounded our southward horizon on the 
 Rigi ; that, at Fluelen, we entered the valley of the 
 Reuss, which separates the Grisons from the Bernese 
 Oberland ; that we followed the river almost due south, 
 about twelve miles, to Amstag, rising fifteen or eighteen 
 hundred feet; that then we turned westward, leaving 
 the Grisons behind and on our left, and made a much 
 sharper ascent, and now are going almost to the top of 
 the ridge which divides the waters of the Rhine from 
 those of the Rhone and connects the southern Italian 
 chain with the northern ; that on this southern chain 
 are the passes which lead down into Italy, the St. 
 Gotthard, the St. Bernard, and the Simplon ; and we 
 shall follow this little Rhine stream to its source, about 
 twelve miles away, and then climb sharply up three or 
 four miles more to the Furca, where we shall be about 
 eight thousand feet above the Lake of Lucerne. When 
 we get there, directly before us will be the deep valley 
 of the Rhone, three thousand feet below ; on the right 
 will be the great mountains of the Oberland, and on the 
 left the chain of Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, and 
 Mont Blanc. How nearly am I right, Mr. Audran ? " 
 with a brilliant smile. 
 
 " You are very right. The whole situation is as clear 
 in your mind as in mine, and I can add very little, 
 except that you must not expect to see Monte Rosa or
 
 $6 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 Mont Blanc, because nearer mountains shut them off ; 
 but they are there, as you have described them ; and if 
 you have formed your ideas from my description, you are 
 the best listener man ever had. It makes me feel as if 
 I had put myself on record, and should be held account- 
 able for all errors and deficiencies." 
 
 " Because you are so clear yourself, Mr. Audran. I 
 told you that you had done more than find my glass, 
 that you had given me eyes " ; and she lifted her bright 
 face with such a frank, responsive glance that Robert 
 drew a quicker breath as he bent down to Alice's ear, 
 and repeated, in a tone heard by her only, 
 
 " ' Do bat look at her eyes ! They do light 
 
 All that this world compriseth. 
 Do but look at her hair I It is bright 
 
 As eve's star when it riseth. 
 And from her arched brow such a grace 
 Sheds itself through her face, . 
 As alone there triumphs to the life, 
 All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife.' " 
 
 Alice flushed with pleasure as she turned toward 
 Helen, whose look had changed to one of surprise and 
 dissatisfaction. " Whispering ? " said she. " How very 
 unlike Mr. Audran ! " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss Dysart, but, as you spoke, 
 I could not help recalling a verse of Ben Jonson, and 
 repeating it to Miss Alice. Perhaps I ought to be 
 ashamed of my impertinent memories." 
 
 " You have not the least occasion, Mr. Audran," said 
 Alice. "You are perfectly right in admiring Helen.
 
 THE FURCA. $? 
 
 We all think that every one who is not stupid must do 
 so." 
 
 " Yes. I make no excuses for that" said Robert ; "but 
 Miss Dysart may find it inconvenient if all her admirers 
 put their admiration into words. The truth is not al- 
 ways to be told, you know." 
 
 " That will do for the present," said Helen, " or I 
 must change places with one of those boys. I '11 go off 
 with Eugene. Did you ever know a brother who could 
 not take the conceit out of his sister as fast as all 
 the rest of the world could put it in ? And, after all, 
 Mr. Audran's compliments are like heat lightning, 
 they shine, but they don't strike. He won't imagine 
 that I take them for more than they are worth. If it 
 pleases him to say pretty things, he must be indulged. 
 Le roi s* amuse! When he pleases to be in earnest, 
 as he was in his lesson on the Rigi, then I shall listen 
 with attention." As she looked straight in his face his 
 eyes fell abashed. 
 
 " Never mind, Mr. Audran," said Alice; " she will get 
 the best of everybody, that 's her way ; but she is as 
 good as she can be for all that." 
 
 "Well, it must be admitted," said Robert, "that no 
 experience of the world will help a man particularly 
 in his dealings with women. Here am I, "something 
 like forty years old, quite cast down by the rebuke of 
 one more than ten years my junior, and very grateful 
 for the encouragement of another, ten years younger 
 yet." 
 
 Helen smiled. " I shall begin to think you have lost
 
 58 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 your head, Mr. Audran, if you expect to make your 
 peace by telling all the world how old I am." 
 
 "Well, I am recovering it, under discipline," said 
 Robert ; " and now, while the carriage is going round 
 these long zigzags, shall we cut across them ? We may 
 take it very easily and yet keep far ahead of the horses." 
 
 The path lay over beds of loose stone, washed into 
 the foot-furrow, over tables and ridges of rock, through 
 hollows rilled with blooming heather, where the rock- 
 rose and the club-moss and the purple erica brightened 
 the treeless hillside. The gentian wrapped its whorl 
 of blue around an unopened calyx, and here and there 
 a sprig of edelweiss reared its fleecy crown like a white 
 coral branchlet. A fresh, damp wind from the south 
 drove heavy columns of vapor from the valleys below ; 
 now and then came a momentary spit of rain, and then 
 the sun would break through and glint upon slanting 
 showers of snow trooping along the sides of the Spitzli- 
 horn and the Galenstock, which was now becoming visi- 
 ble. A walk of an hour and a half brought them to the 
 little hamlet of Realp, beyond which, for five miles, to 
 the summit of the Furca Pass, are no human habitations. 
 They sat awhile on the benches in front of the little hos- 
 pice, drinking " Acier du Rhone " from the bottle held 
 by the burly Priest Hugo, who, in cowl and stole, tempts 
 passing travellers with good wine. The talk was of the 
 route, and the question whether they should attempt the 
 next stretch of five miles on foot. The Capuchin had 
 much to say of the Elmeten and Wasser Alp, which were 
 .to be traversed. The ladies were in favor of walking
 
 THE FURCA. 59 
 
 over so many summits, as they supposed; but when 
 Robert explained to them that, in the local language, 
 < ' alp " means a pasture-ground, and that these particu- 
 lar pastures were very sterile and monotonous, that 
 the carriage-road really gave a better view, and that 
 there was a good chance of a snow-storm before they 
 could reach the Furca, they concluded to ride, a for- 
 tunate conclusion, for as they were entering upon the 
 last mile a tempest of sleet and snow and sharp hail 
 broke over them with such force as to blind the horses. 
 The driver descended and stood between their heads, 
 holding the bridles, and the party clustered in the lee of 
 the wagon, rolled in plaids, with backs turned to the 
 wind. Fortunately it proved to be the last storm-gust 
 of the day, and when, a little after noon, they emerged 
 upon the plateau of the Furca, the meridian sun was 
 shining from a cloudless sky on a pure surface of fresh- 
 fallen snow and down into the deep chasm of the 
 Rhone valley, while far and clear the peaks which clus- 
 ter around the Finster-Aarhorn, loftiest of the Bernese 
 mountains, shone in dazzling white. 
 
 Half an hour at the little inn, and they started again. 
 At the second turn of the road they alighted, packed all 
 needless wraps, bade the driver order dinner at half 
 past three at the Hotel Glacier du Rhone, and watched 
 the carriage as it went spinning down the sharp curves 
 and whirling round the angles of the road. 
 
 Presently they came upon the border of the glacier, 
 in some respects the most imposing in Switzerland. A 
 thousand feet high, almost a mile wide, precipitous, it,
 
 60 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 more than any other glacier, justifies Coleridge's de- 
 scription : 
 
 " Motionless torrent, silent cataract 1 " 
 
 Rifted with chasms, full of dropping wells, and glitter- 
 ing in its white wreath of new-fallen snow, fitly named 
 by the ancients the Pillar of the Sun. From beneath it 
 the infant Rhone, a pale opaline brook, dashing over 
 the stones of the moraine, begins its long way to the 
 sea. 
 
 A loitering walk of two hours and a half along the 
 side and upon the surface of the glacier brought them 
 to the end of the day's stage at the hotel below, to 
 a well-served dinner, and an evening of story-telling and 
 music.
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 6l 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 
 
 the morning of the same day, while her children 
 were thus climbing the high places of the world, 
 Mrs. Dysart, with her friends the Irwins, made the easy 
 transit from Lucerne to Interlaken by rail. As she 
 descended from her carriage at the portal of the Bellevue 
 Hotel, she saw the imposing figure of the Baroness 
 Waldeyer, attended by her brother-in-law, the baron. 
 They were standing on the upper balcony, and an un- 
 easy sense of surveillance drifted across Mrs. Dysart's 
 mind. She could not help feeling that her coming was 
 waited for and watched by these people. They gave her 
 a sense of the evil eye, renewed again, later in the 
 day, as she met them in the salle-a-manger. This feel- 
 ing was painfully quickened when, after dinner, a ser- 
 vant brought to her a note bearing the baroness's crest 
 and monogram. It was a very simple note, however : 
 
 "Will Madame Dysart have the goodness to receive 
 Madame la Baronne Waldeyer in her apartment this 
 evening, if convenient? Mme. Waldeyer desires to 
 speak of a conversation which occurred yesterday morn- 
 ing with Miss Dysart on Lake Lucerne. " 
 
 It surprised Mrs. Dysart that this note was written in
 
 62 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 English, with an ease which indicated perfect familiarity 
 with the language. What instinct it was which made 
 Mrs. Dysart shrink from the interview, she could not 
 have explained ; but, with some painful hesitation, she 
 concluded that as the note was courteously worded, 
 and suggested a reason which might well be sufficient, 
 she was not at liberty to decline it. So she returned 
 brief answer : 
 
 "Madame Dysart will be pleased to receive the 
 Baroness Waldeyer in her apartment at eight this eve- 
 ning." 
 
 Thus, while the younger party were gathered about a 
 round table in the far-off hollow of the mountains, 
 and stories of old romance and modern adventure 
 went round, the matrons were settling themselves for a 
 far different conversation. Punctually at eight the 
 card of the baroness was brought in, and a moment 
 after she herself entered, with a serene but very serious 
 expression on her beautiful face. Mrs. Dysart motioned 
 her to a seat. It happened to be one which shielded the 
 baroness's face from the light, but left that of Mrs. Dysart 
 in full light of the chandelier, and a quick sense of the 
 disadvantage occurred to her before a word was spoken. 
 
 The baroness began. " Madame is very kind to give 
 me this opportunity. I am sensible of it, and wish to 
 acknowledge it now, before if ever madame shall 
 have any reason to regret this occasion. My great 
 respect for madame, and my desire to possess some- 
 thing of her esteem, will not allow me to approach the 
 matter of which I wish to speak by any disguise or
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 63 
 
 evasion." She paused for some reply, but Mrs. Dysart's 
 only answer was a look of surprised inquiry. 
 
 The baroness resumed. " I have a special design 
 and interest in knowing more of Miss Dysart, and, for 
 that purpose in seeing her often ; and, as this cannot be 
 without your knowledge and consent, I am fain to seek 
 it through them." 
 
 She paused again, and this time so definitively that 
 Mrs. Dysart was obliged to reply, and she said, 
 " Madame will understand that I am at a loss to know 
 why she, a perfect stranger, should feel such an interest 
 in my daughter." 
 
 The baroness frowned slightly, and said, " You have 
 called her your daughter. She is, certainly, the daughter 
 of your house ; she is, doubtless, the daughter of your 
 heart ; but madame will understand me better when I 
 say that I know she is not the daughter of your blood ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dysart clasped her hands before her, and, bend- 
 ing forward, with passionate glance, cried, "And how 
 comes it that, for the first time in twenty-five years, I 
 hear this from a strange woman in a strange land ? " 
 
 The baroness's steady gaze was fixed on her as she 
 answered, " Madame admits the fad, then ? She has 
 yet to learn that, in announcing this truth, I speak from 
 a motive which is not, for me, less urgent than any she 
 can have for concealing it." 
 
 " It remains for you, then, to declare it," said Mrs. 
 Dysart coldly. 
 
 "Yes," said the baroness, "that is inevitable. Do 
 you know the name of Manuela Parades, Mrs. Dysart?" 
 
 " I have heard it," was the answer.
 
 64 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 "And you know, then, for what name it was 
 changed ? " 
 
 "For one which the bearer did her best to dishonor," 
 said Mrs. Dysart boldly and bitterly. 
 
 "We will speak of that by and by, madame," said 
 the baroness. " It is in the daughter of Manuela Pare- 
 des Dysart that I take so great an interest. She is my 
 daughter." It was spoken with an air of mingled shame 
 and pride, which immediately gave place to one of great 
 gentleness and sweetness as she added, " And you, my 
 dear madame, who have succeeded to a name which 
 once was mine, and have borne it with so much grace 
 and honor, can you retain an unkind feeling toward one 
 who opened to you the way to years of honored and 
 happy life, to love, which is the charm of life, to a 
 secure and brilliant home which none invades or threat- 
 ens, to a sweet group of children, full of grace and 
 promise ? Can your mother's heart wonder that mine 
 yearns toward the only child I ever bore ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dysart softened as she heard the earnest, trem- 
 ulous, tearful voice of this proud and desolate woman, 
 and she said gently, " It is a strange story, in which so 
 many chapters are wanting that I cannot yet yield my 
 faith to any. You must tell me your history, fully and 
 fairly, before I canjiave anything to say to you." 
 
 "Listen, then," said the baroness. "You will hear 
 from me much which you must have already heard from 
 your husband, and much of which I believe him to be 
 ignorant. Of the truth of its facts you will not doubt. 
 I mean, also, that you shall equally' believe in the sin-
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 65 
 
 cerity of the sentiments which I profess. If I show my 
 whole nature to you, just as it is, if I am thoroughly 
 true to that, then you cannot choose but know it is 
 the truth I speak. Yes, I was Manuela Pare'des, a Mex- 
 ican girl, born and bred in the small and remote state of 
 Zacatecas, among dry mountains and deep valleys, taught 
 in an Ursuline convent from my sixth to my sixteenth 
 year, and then, when my mother died, taken home to be 
 the companion of my father's solitary life at his mining 
 hacienda. It was there I met Mr. Adrian Dysart, a 
 young man of twenty-five, a skilful engineer, trained in 
 the mining schools of Saxony. Born in England, of 
 Belgian parents, he had spent his life from seventeen to 
 twenty in the banking-house of Ferreira in London ; from 
 twenty to twenty-three in the mining school at Freiburg; 
 then one year in the service of an English mining com- 
 pany in Peru ; and thence, dissatisfied, had gone to 
 Mexico, where my father found him, and took him to 
 Zacatecas to explore his silver mines, which, after the 
 manner of his ancestors, he had worked for many years 
 at a moderate profit. He brought with him all that was 
 then known of geology ; he explored the old works ; he 
 saw for himself and persuaded my father that the deep- 
 est shaft of his old-fashioned mine, if pushed into the 
 heart of the mountain, would strike a great body of rich 
 ore. The argument was good, the profit would be great. 
 To realize it my father invested all his means and taxed 
 to the utmost his local credit. Such was the state of 
 affairs when I, a young girl of seventeen, returned to 
 my father's house. 5 
 
 5
 
 66 MANUELA PARADES, 
 
 "Adrian was handsome; so, I believe, was I. No 
 other man who came to our remote abode could com- 
 pare with him ; no other girl whom he could meet there 
 had even my poor power to attract him. 
 
 " My father wished in every way to bind to his interests 
 one for whose honor and probity he had such unlimited 
 respect, and who he fully believed would be the archi- 
 tect of a great fortune for himself. He threw us to- 
 gether; and Mr. Dysart, mistaking, perhaps, the feeling 
 which he had for me, asked my hand. We were mar- 
 ried, the mature, grave, laborious, ambitious man to 
 the young girl whose physical nature only was complete, 
 while her faculties of mind and heart had never been 
 called into life. Whatever of scope and knowledge I 
 may have since attained, I owe it all to the patient, love- 
 directed education of the late Baron Waldeyer, who, 
 though he may seem to you to have defied the first prin- 
 ciples of social morality, ever was and ever will remain 
 to me the best type of a pure-hearted, noble-minded man. 
 Mr. Dysart must from the first have felt that the tie be- 
 tween us was no more than a legal obligation, redeemed 
 and beautified by no harmonies of thought or feeling, 
 and as this sense slowly grew upon me, it led me to 
 desperate thoughts and deeds. I blame him, with his 
 knowledge of life and character, that he could ever have 
 consented thus to defraud a young and ardent nature ; 
 and I pity him as well, for, except for my act, which sun- 
 dered this unhappy tie, he would have closed upon him- 
 self forever all prospect, all chance, of the domestic 
 affection and happiness which belonged to his years.
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 67 
 
 " We had been married but a month when his mining 
 plans seemed to be crowned with a great success. His 
 excavations reached a large body of the richest ore. For 
 a few days the vision of great wealth was before us, when 
 an unlucky blast broke into a subterranean water-channel, 
 and in a few hours the whole mine was completely flooded. 
 The whole of my father's capital, and nearly all his own, 
 had already been expended, and this catastrophe meant 
 ruin for us all. Mr. Dysart at once determined to go to 
 England, raise a large sum on the security of the mine, 
 and buy and forward the best pumping machinery. My 
 father put into his hands all the records and titles to the 
 property. He delayed a few months, to start an adit in 
 the valley which he hoped might drain a portion of the 
 mine, and then he started, taking me with him. Four 
 months after our arrival in England Helen was born, 
 and one month before her birth we received intelligence 
 of the death of my father by a cruel accident in the 
 mine. Mr. Dysart was constantly absent in Wales, in 
 Cornwall, in Scotland, wherever he might study the 
 latest improvements in mining and machinery. He had 
 planned to be with me at my confinement, but it was a 
 little premature and occurred in his absence. Thanks 
 to my youth and the excellent medical care provided, I 
 recovered my physical health perfectly ; but the shock 
 of my father's horrible death, the isolation of a strange 
 land, and above all the exact and cold duty which gov- 
 erned all Mr. Dysart's relations to me, his long absences 
 and absorption in business, so wrought into my young 
 mind the sense of a solitary and loveless life that I fell
 
 68 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 as I believe would now be conceded by all medical 
 men into one of those monomanias which are as a 
 strand of insanity in an otherwise rational nature. At 
 any rate, my whole being was rilled with an intense aver- 
 sion to my husband ; even his child, beautiful baby as 
 she was, I did not love. This was certainly a morbid, 
 unnatural state of mind, and yet the reserve of an in- 
 tense nature enabled me to control in great part the 
 manifestation of it, and to suffer only so much to appear 
 as was attributed to my general waywardness. 
 
 " A fortnight after the birth of my child Mr. Dysart 
 left me for a long series of business expeditions, and I 
 fell into the way of visiting the various museums of 
 paintings. Naturally my acquaintance was mostly with 
 the French and Spanish in London, for I was more 
 familiar' with both of these languages than with English 
 even. At the National Academy I first met the Baron 
 Waldeyer and also the Count de Zarzuela. Both were 
 interested in me, I in the baron only. The count came 
 sometimes at first to call upon me, the baron never ; but 
 we often met at the galleries. In a few weeks he had 
 my whole confidence, my whole heart, my whole history. 
 I began to copy a picture of Paul Veronese to furnish a 
 reason for my frequent visits, and he habitually met me 
 when I left the building, and attended my homeward 
 walk to within a few squares of my house. He was 
 careful not to compromise me in any way, but his gen- 
 tleness and his enthusiasm in his views upon social ques- 
 tions revealed a new life to me ; and all the promise of 
 those days has been fulfilled day by day for twenty-seven
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 69 
 
 years. It could not be said that he tempted me from 
 my home : it was rather I who was determined to desert 
 it, determined to possess and enjoy that sympathy which 
 comprehended and valued every movement of my na- 
 ture. So it was arranged that I should join him in Brus- 
 sels, and that we should go thence to a quiet town in 
 the north of Spain. 
 
 " One day I left my house at the hour at which I was 
 accustomed to go to the gallery, and before noon was 
 on my way across the Channel. I left a note for Mr. 
 Dysart, where I knew it would some day be found. 
 That note you may have seen ? " 
 
 " I remember it well," said Mrs. Dysart. 
 
 " Then, perhaps, you will recognize this copy, which 
 I have brought with me to verify my statements " ; and 
 the baroness handed her a little sheet, traced in faded 
 characters, which Mrs. Dysart eagerly read. 
 
 "Adrian, adieu! For good or for ill, I am leaving 
 you forever. Wedded life, for us both, has been an 
 unending and undiminishing sacrifice. For the sake of 
 the years which are before each of us, I must take this 
 step. Our burdens are similar, but they are not equal, 
 for the love which my nature demands is an episode in 
 man's life, but is the substance of woman's. Let me 
 seek it where I may, let me go ! Do not look for 
 me, do not seek to fetter your life again with the 
 chain which I thus break. No stain, no reproach, shall 
 rest upon you. I charge you with no unkindness of 
 word or deed. Thus far you have been careful, liberal, 
 generous toward me, and I have been obedient and
 
 70 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 submissive toward you. But, O Adrian, there never 
 was, there never can be, any love between us. Why 
 should we wear its chain ? My name, my child, my 
 fortune, I leave them all : there is no other choice 
 for me. If time shall ever show that what the Church 
 and the World unite to call a wrong is Nature's sub- 
 stantial truth, and carries with it Nature's blessing for 
 both of us, you will hear from me again. Meantime 
 the law gives to the man, who has been thus abandoned, 
 release from the tie which I now and forever renounce. 
 I, I alone, am the outlaw, and the social penalties of 
 the outlaw I must bear. 
 
 " God bless you, Adrian ! and, when time has healed 
 this scar, give to you some fair, good woman, who shall 
 be the wife of your mind, of your heart, and your pride. 
 My brain swims and fire dances before my eyes as I 
 write this, but in my heart I know only sorrow and 
 
 kindness for you. 
 
 " MANUELA." 
 
 In spite of herself, Mrs. Dysart was touched by this 
 note, which bore date, "London, July 12, 1849." She 
 folded it and returned it to the baroness, saying, " Yes, 
 it is the same ; and your story is but another version of 
 circumstances of which I already knew the greater 
 part." 
 
 The baroness resumed. "You will believe me, 
 madame, that I have not forced this story upon your 
 attention for any other reason than that which belongs 
 to a widowed mother, bereaved of a child, to regain 
 whom she would give anything in life. I do not under-
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 
 
 rate my difficulties. The strength of possession, the 
 shield of all the world's conventions, is with you. It 
 becomes me, therefore, just now to be silent, except you 
 wish me to speak. Whatever else you wish to learn 
 shall be told you, justly and truly." 
 
 And then there was silence. The attitude, the rela- 
 tions, of the parties were so strange that Mrs. Dysart 
 could not at once collect her thoughts and command a 
 clear judgment. At length she said, " Madame Wal- 
 deyer will understand that many questions will suggest 
 themselves to me which I hesitate to ask. I have to 
 guard the feelings and the interests of a family ; I have 
 to defend my own weak health against the shock of 
 knowledge which is painful to me, and profitless ; and I 
 have also to consider the feelings of one who, whatever 
 may be her purpose, and whatever the judgment which 
 I may finally put upon her, seems at present to seek to 
 disarm resentment by a gentle and considerate manner. 
 Still, I cannot forbear asking some questions, which you 
 can answer or not, as you please. But be careful, 
 madame ! You have roused my mind to very unwonted 
 activity, and I will not pledge myself as to the use I may 
 make of what I learn. 
 
 " In the first place, then, why have you allowed us so 
 long to believe that you eloped with the Count de Zar- 
 zuela, and that you were drowned with him, three days 
 after, off the coast of Spain ? And why have you with- 
 held from us the knowledge of your existence for more 
 than twenty-five years ? " 
 
 The baroness smiled. " That I can readily answer.
 
 72 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 The Baron Waldeyer was a very peculiar man. From 
 the first, he intended that I should feel, as he appeared 
 to do, that happiness and devotion to each other gave 
 the highest sanction to our relation, which he strove to 
 dignify and refine in every way. We were not the 
 victims of a sudden and transient attraction. Such as 
 grew up between us was matured in the light of his 
 intensely thoughtful and poetic nature. If the step 
 which I took was an error, he took care that I should 
 know fully what I was doing. He set before me fairly 
 all the consequences it would involve. He even bade 
 me remember that, as a matter of history, ties thus 
 formed, usually had a sad and disastrous ending. More 
 than all things else he seemed to fear that it should 
 fade or fail or suffer any interruption. He taught me that 
 love could only survive in harmony of opinion, in sacri- 
 fice of personal feeling, in respect for each other's char- 
 acter and motives. He would not have permitted in 
 fact, neither of us would have been capable of starting 
 or circulating the story of the Count de Zarzuela. It was 
 not even known to us until long afterward that rumor 
 connected my name and fate with his, or that we learned 
 definitely the circumstances of his death. Some domes- 
 .tic event in his family required his immediate return to 
 Spain. He left on the same day that I did, taking with 
 him a French nurse, who, in answer to a telegram, had 
 been sent on from Paris and joined him at Southhamp- 
 ton, an hour before he sailed, on a yacht which had 
 been expressly chartered for him. Three days later 
 this yacht was run down in the night by a sailing vessel,
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 73 
 
 and sunk off the coast of Biscay. When we learned 
 the rumor, which had perhaps shielded us from pursuit, 
 and for which we were in no way responsible, we did 
 not think it needful to contradict it, as it concerned 
 only the dead. We knew that Mr. Dysart had married 
 again, believing himself a widower, and that the reve- 
 lation now would cause endless trouble to him and our- 
 selves. In the current opinion I was a Spanish lady 
 whom the baron had married. We had spent a month 
 in Malaga after leaving Brussels, and thence went to 
 Salonica in Turkey, where we lived three years, until 
 we were quite forgotten in England. The baron had 
 visited England after the death of his widowed mother, 
 and had left his brother for education in an English 
 school at Lausanne, so that there was absolutely no one 
 to question our acts or motives. His unfailing love 
 and sympathy left me little to wish. It was my great 
 treasure, not to be imperilled by any vain curiosity. 
 But I had always yearned after my child, and since 
 the death of my husband, two years ago, it has seemed 
 in my desolation and hunger of trie heart, as though 
 I could not live without her. And now, perhaps, you 
 can guess whence came yearly Helen's Christmas box 
 since she was ten years old. Every year I have re- 
 mitted to an agent in New York a thousand francs, 
 and every year have received from him a list of the 
 contents and the receipt every year of a different ex- 
 press company employed to deliver them at your house. 
 Here is the latest, dated December 24, 1875." 
 
 "The annual mystery of our house," said Mrs. Dy-
 
 74 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 sart; "but we never looked beyond the sea for its 
 source, as the gifts were all evidently bought in New 
 York. Now will you tell me how it is that you have 
 found us here in Switzerland, and have chosen this time 
 and place for your purpose ? " 
 
 The baroness resumed : " It has been my purpose 
 if I may use your word to move in this matter as soon 
 and as directly as I might ; and when I learned from 
 New York that you were to be in Switzerland for the 
 months of July and August, I came early, hoping to 
 meet you somewhere. Our first stage was Lucerne, and 
 there we happened to find your names upon the register 
 of the hotel. The rest must be clear to you." 
 
 " You say," said Mrs. Dysart, " that you learned from 
 New York." 
 
 " Yes," responded Madame Waldeyer ; " my agent, 
 Mr. Fayrolle, has called upon Mr. Dysart." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mrs. Dysart, " now I understand Julia's 
 letter." 
 
 " Yes," said the baroness ; " he at least knows of my 
 existence, and something of my wishes, less, however, 
 than you now know." 
 
 " Still," said Mrs. Dysart, " I must beg that you will 
 explain them further and more definitely." 
 
 The baroness hesitated, but added, " My dear ma- 
 dame, do not ask me to say more now. Would it not 
 be well that you should first know me a little better, 
 and that each should recognize the fact that in Helen 
 we have a common object of interest and affection ? 
 It may be that you will yet accept from me the heart-
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. ?$ 
 
 felt love and duty which I owe to the woman who has 
 righted the wrong my act involved ; who has sur- 
 rounded my child from her cradle with a true mother's 
 love and care ; who has formed in her a person and 
 a mind fit for any destiny. There is no one in all this 
 world to whom at this moment I owe so much as to 
 you ! " The baroness rose, with quick impulse and 
 streaming eyes, knelt at Mrs. Dysart's feet, clasped her 
 hand, and, bowing her gray head upon it, kissed it and 
 was silent. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart regarded her with mixed emotion, but 
 she did not withdraw her hand. She laid her other 
 gently on the still fair, round shoulder of the sobbing 
 woman, as she said, " Dear Madame Waldeyer, it is 
 impossible not to feel for you, whether I can feel with 
 you or not. You prove so altogether different from 
 anything which I could have supposed that Manuela 
 Parades could become." 
 
 The baroness rose and steadied herself, as if to 
 reassume her wonted self-control ; but the effort was 
 vain, she tottered to her chair and sank back into it. At 
 length she rose, and, hesitating, with a blush and smile, 
 said, " After such proof of weakness, Mrs. Dysart at 
 least will not find anything formidable in me. We have 
 so much to think of that solitude will be good for us 
 both. Adieu, madaine, and thank you for your kind 
 attention and regard." She turned at the door, bowed 
 gracefully, and went out. 
 
 It was ten o'clock when the baroness reached her 
 apartment and found the baron awaiting her. He 
 scanned her face carefully as she entered.
 
 76 MANUELA PAREDES. 
 
 " How goes it, Manuela ? " said he. 
 
 The baroness dropped wearily into her chair, and 
 folded her hands in her lap. " Indeed, I cannot tell, 
 Adolphe. I hope not badly. Madame Dysart is not 
 so difficult as I feared. She seems to have both sense 
 and feeling." 
 
 " What did you fear ? " said the baron. 
 
 " I feared that she would be either rude or hysterical, 
 that she would be so distracted and upset that one 
 could make no sure progress with her, or that she would 
 give me no fair opportunity to show my meaning and 
 the strength of the case. Instead of which she heard 
 me patiently ; she attempted no reproaches ; she was 
 reserved, it is true, deliberate and careful, but she 
 seemed to comprehend and respect my feelings and 
 position." 
 
 "And you told her " 
 
 " Almost everything. There was no mention made of 
 you, however, mon cher " ; and she smiled, a sweet but 
 sorrowful smile. 
 
 " And the young lady, Helen ? Does she know 
 her true relation to the family? " 
 
 " I did not ask, and she said nothing about it. I 
 think not, however." 
 
 " Was anything said of that gentleman, the Ameri- 
 can who is with the party ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Did any items of the young lady's history appear ? " 
 
 " Nothing. In fact, Adolphe, I could do no more at 
 one hearing than to convince Madame Dysart of my
 
 THE BARONESS WALDEYER. 77 
 
 identity, and to attempt to propitiate her interest and 
 sympathy. I can only hope I may have left as favora- 
 ble an impression on her mind as she has on mine. 
 But I see that at every stage I shall have to force my 
 way to a hearing. Aggressive all the time, oh, how 
 hard ! " 
 
 " Did you not appoint another interview ? " 
 " No, Adolphe. In fact, I left in confusion. It was 
 very sad and strange for me to sue to a stranger, and to 
 feel that she regarded me as a sinful woman, a 'danger- 
 ous adventuress, and to perceive that she knew and 
 would believe no good of Alexandre. Loved and hon- 
 ored as I have been, it was very hard to be put on my 
 defence, and to have to prove my claim to common pro- 
 priety of feeling and behavior. No one who has not 
 been in such a case can tell how strong are the forces 
 which confront a woman who has dared to live her own 
 life in the world. I have been a pariah in their eyes 
 for years. Can I ever be anything better ? Go, now, 
 Adolphe. I am so Very tired that I must neither talk 
 nor think any more just now." 
 
 It was very late that night before either of these two 
 women slept.
 
 78 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK. 
 
 WHEN ladies are concerned in Alpine excursions, 
 so much depends on weather, that Robert de- 
 ferred the programme of the next day until morning. 
 He sent this card up to the ladies at 6 A. M. : " Break- 
 fast at 7. Two hours on ' horseback, then six hours' 
 walk. All luggage will be sent by mule, and will be 
 accessible at any time. Short and light dresses are in 
 order." 
 
 At a quarter past six the party had gathered on the 
 piazza and were waiting for Robert to come to break- 
 fast. " What a life you must lead with that brother of 
 yours ! " said Alice to Walter, teasingly. " He issues 
 his orders as though he were at least a major-general. 
 Helen and I are in the habit of having our little say 
 about things in general, and it seems very odd to be 
 under such rigid discipline. There he is, standing 
 against that pillar at the end. Come, let 's all parade 
 before him, like a corporal's guard. Take your alpen- 
 stocks for guns. Shoulder arms ! " She began to 
 sing La Parisienne : 
 
 " ' En avant ! Marchons 
 Centre leur canons, 
 Travers le feu, le fer de battaillons.'
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK. 79 
 
 Forward march ! " And with steps accenting the lively 
 air, all except Helen filed in front of Robert. 
 
 He appreciated the joke, and, hat in hand, with a 
 grand air, bowed like a general at a review. 
 
 Alice, struggling with her laughter, cried, " Oh ! if 
 you could only see how perfectly absurd you look ! " 
 
 " I dare say, my child," said Robert ; " but something 
 must be done to keep you in countenance." 
 
 " ' My child ' ? Upon my word ! " cried Alice. " I 
 shall run " ; and, suiting the action to the word, she 
 sprang from the piazza.. Walter followed, and they 
 went racing down the 'road. Presently they were seen 
 returning, arm in arm, and grave as judges ; and, this 
 little escapade over, the party went in to breakfast. 
 
 " That will do for the morning," said Robert. " You 
 won't feel like frolicking to-night when you get into 
 Meiringen, all draggled and collapsed." 
 
 " What is there to draggle, I should like to know ? " 
 said Alice, shaking her short skirt. 
 
 "Your shoulders and your eyelids, pretty maid," 
 said he. " You will know something about a fatigue- 
 party by sundown." 
 
 " Where shall we be to-morrow ? " asked Helen. 
 
 " Oh, to-morrow will be easy," Robert answered ; " all 
 carriage and steamboat, except one little scramble up 
 the Giesbach, and that you can do in a chaise a porteur, 
 if you like." 
 
 "That is something I had resolved not to do," said 
 Helen. "It may suit Europeans, but the idea of 
 men carrying such a human load is not American or
 
 80 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 democratic. It is all the worse that they are so ready 
 to do it for money." 
 
 "I like your feeling," said Robert, "and yet I can 
 imagine circumstances in which I should be very glad 
 to put you into a chair. It is a safe and easy method 
 for invalids." 
 
 " What alarming forethought ! " said Helen. 
 
 "That is nothing," he answered. " You can't imag- 
 ine how careful and prudent I resolved to be when 
 your mother consented to let you go with me on this 
 excursion. How could I face her if you returned ill 
 or worn out? I should have to* answer to the baroness 
 too, who looked yesterday as if she thought you were 
 above all price. Do you know, I could not help think- 
 ing there was a strong likeness between you ? " 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Audran, even for comparing me to 
 a woman of sixty ; for any one might be proud to be as 
 graceful and engaging as she. I cannot help thinking 
 of her, and wishing that I knew more of her history." 
 
 " She has one, you may be sure." said Robert. 
 " Such strong impulses and such habitual self-control 
 are only harmonized by discipline. She is certainly a 
 remarkable character." 
 
 " Yes, I think so," said Helen. " There was some- 
 thing absolutely magnetic and thrilling about her yester- 
 day to me. And I like the baron, too ; he seemed so 
 loyal and attentive to his sister." 
 
 " He is a very pleasant and chivalric person, I 
 believe," said Robert, " but if I am to continue of that 
 opinion, you must not praise him too much."
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HAN DECK. 8 1 
 
 " You said something to me yesterday, Mr. Audran, 
 about being troublesome ; and now you instruct me in 
 the methods of self-defence." 
 
 "The 'womanly art of self-defence,'" said Robert. 
 " I am sure it is needless." 
 
 " Doubtless, at present," said Helen, piqued at the 
 turn which the conversation was taking. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Miss Dysart. Your satire is 
 the last thing which I would invoke." 
 
 " It would be a poor return, Mr. Audran, for your 
 kindness to all of us." 
 
 "What kind of quarrel is this, I wonder?" said 
 Alice, roguishly. 
 
 They were soon mounted and climbing the slope 
 which rises precipitously behind the hotel. The moun- 
 tain-side, facing south, almost two thousand feet high, 
 is protected from both the north and east winds, and 
 lies open to the sun for three quarters of the day. It 
 is clothed with the richest Alpine verdure, and is 
 famed for its rhododendrons, azaleas, and heather- 
 bloom. They give it its name, the Maienwand, or 
 Wall of May. 
 
 The bridle-path zigzags back and forth along the 
 slope, which is too steep to be scaled by direct ap- 
 proach. The morning was beautiful, as only a morning 
 in early summer can be. A party of ten were just 
 before them, with their complement of guides, the two 
 together making a long cavalcade, winding upward. 
 The incense of fields of bloom, distilling in the bright 
 sunshine, the gay scarfs and dresses of the riders flut- 
 
 6
 
 82 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 tering in the morning wind, the hum of bees, the tinkle 
 of many cow-bells, the calls from rank to rank of the 
 procession, the cawing of the ravens which circled 
 round their heads, and then, on balanced and glisten- 
 ing wings, went sliding down into the deep valley 
 below, made the solitude vocal with the fulness of life, 
 in contrast with the cold glacier on the east and the 
 bare, brown rocks on the south. Far below, along the 
 course of the infant Rhone, ran the road, with here 
 and there a tourist's carriage, or foot-travellers, like 
 motes in the distance. Near the summit, Robert halted 
 his party for a little, to make division between it and 
 that which preceded it ; and they watched them as one 
 by one they reached the top, and disappeared on the 
 other side of the crest, each figure strongly relieved 
 against the white northern sky; then they in turn 
 passed the ridge, and at once the scene changed. All 
 verdure disappeared ; around them were masses of 
 dark, unsunned rock, rising from rifts of snow ; to the 
 right and left snowy peaks clustered ; and right beneath 
 them, in inky blackness, lay a small mountain-tarn, 
 the Todtensee, once choked with the bodies of the 
 dead, when French and Austrian fought amid the 
 snows for the command of the pass. Still further on 
 a dreary basin in the hills inclosed the Hospice of the 
 Grimsel, at the point where one or two glacier-streams 
 enter a small, rock-bound lake, and the Aar, from this 
 dismal source, foams through its narrow bed between 
 overhanging mountains, for nearly thirty miles, to the 
 Lake of Brienz. This is the Haslithal, in its upper
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK. 83 
 
 portion one of the wildest, and in its lower, one of the 
 most beautiful of Alpine valleys. Down this valley 
 their day's journey lay before them. They reached the 
 hospice about ten o'clock, and from thence sent back 
 one of the guides with four of their horses, retaining a 
 single horse and guide to carry the luggage and the 
 wraps, of which they now divested themselves in antici- 
 pation of a long walk. 
 
 As they passed through a gateway of rock a little 
 below the hospice, Robert pointed out that it had once 
 been continuous across the narrow valley, and, like a 
 great dam, had made a mountain lake of the entire 
 basin in which the hospice stands. One after another 
 such exhausted lake-basins were traversed, each some- 
 what ampler than the preceding. High on the rocky 
 walls were the furrows of glaciers, and the ripple-marks 
 where the waves of centuries had fretted the rocks. 
 Some of the lake-beds were paved with gray gravel, 
 close packed and destitute of verdure ; some were 
 covered with scanty green ; but through them all the 
 rushing stream ploughed its headlong course. As they 
 continued to descend, the heath gave way to shrubs, the 
 shrubs to bushes, and the bushes to thickets of alder 
 and birch. 
 
 About half-past two o'clock, after an easy descending 
 walk of eight miles, they arrived at the Chalet of Han- 
 deck, where the Aar, now become a small river, makes 
 a plunge of two hundred and fifty feet, falling into a 
 basin of jagged rocks below. Beneath the pine-trees 
 which overhung the chalet, they took their noon-day
 
 84 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 rest ; and Helen began a sketch of the valley, including 
 the mountain wall of the opposite side, and the cascades 
 of Aerlen and Gelmer, which flow from the glaciers 
 above, leaping in silver threads or clouds of spray from 
 shelf to shelf, to join the larger river before it makes its 
 fearful plunge. In the middle ground was the gate of 
 rock, from which the compressed waters rush to spring 
 in an unbroken sheet into the cauldron below, and the 
 remains of a mist-enveloped and rainbow-spanned foot- 
 bridge which crosses the outlet of the basin. She drew 
 with great freedom and force, and Robert, who watched 
 each stroke, when it was done wrote beneath a verse of 
 Mignon's song : 
 
 " Knowst thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud ? 
 The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud, 
 In caves lie coiled the dragon's ancient brood, 
 The crag leaps down, and over it the flood." 
 
 " Now we must be getting on," he said ; and he moved 
 away in search of the rest of the party, whose voices 
 were audible a little way up the stream, while Helen 
 went forward alone, meaning to stop a few moments at 
 the bridge below. 
 
 It was rather a wreck than a bridge, she found, for a 
 late flood had carried away all the string-pieces but one, 
 to which a light hand-rail was attached. She hesitated 
 a moment ; but the timber seemed broad enough for a 
 firm foothold, and the rail stanch, so she ventured to 
 walk a few feet out, in order to get a fair view of the 
 falling waters. Meantime Robert joined the rest of the 
 party, who had found upon the hillside a log, perhaps
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK. 85 
 
 ten or twelve feet long, from which the branches had 
 been trimmed, and they were now rolling it down, to 
 launch it on the stream below, and see its leap over the 
 cataract. They promised to follow so soon as this 
 should be done, and he hastened to rejoin Helen. When 
 he reached the chalet she was not there. Looking down 
 the path, he saw her standing on the frail bridge in a 
 cloud of spray. With one flash of thought he realized 
 that the log must be already afloat, and that in another 
 moment it would be hurled from the edge of the preci- 
 pice and might strike the timber on which she stood. 
 He rushed forward, shouting as he ran ; but the roar 
 of the falling water drowned his voice, so that Helen 
 did not catch the words. He reached the table of rock 
 above the end of the beam and called to her, " Come 
 back ! Be quick ! " She looked up in surprise, he saw 
 her start ; for one bewildered instant she stood hesitat- 
 ing, and in that instant the end of the log came into 
 view, shooting far beyond the falling water. Robert 
 dropped upon his knees, and called frantically, " Spring ! 
 Quick ! " 
 
 It was too late ; the log, swifter than she, shot in 
 a long curve into the gulf. It struck on end, whirled 
 over, and fell heavily across the bridge-timber. Helen 
 saw it coming, and knew that it was doom. But one 
 yard divided her from Robert's outstretched arms. She 
 sprang into them ; and even as his hands tightened 
 round her wrists, the plank beneath her feet swept into 
 the seething pool below, and she swung in air, held 
 by Robert as he lay prone on the rock, his arms reach-
 
 86 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 ing over the brink. Fortunately the guide had heard 
 his call, and now came running to the spot. He grasped 
 her upraised arms, and supported her until Robert could 
 rise, when the two lifted her up to the table of rock 
 beneath which the timber had rested. 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Robert, as they sank upon 
 the ground. " You are not hurt, Helen ? " seeing that 
 she was very pale. 
 
 " I think not, thank you, but oh, what an escape ! 
 I owe my life to you ! " And she looked with all the 
 light of her deep brown eyes into his. 
 
 " Do you, dear ? " said Robert, scarcely knowing what 
 he said ; and he stroked back her falling hair with both 
 his hands. 
 
 She rose to brush the yellow sand from her dress, 
 and with the motion exclaimed, " Oh, my arm ! " It 
 hung helpless, she could not bring it to her side ; and, 
 faint with pain, she sank into her seat again. 
 
 The rest of the party now came running up, and 
 Alice cried, " What is it ? Oh, what is it ? What has 
 happened ? Tell me ! " 
 
 Helen smiled as she glanced from Alice to Robert, 
 and said, " Mr. Audran has saved my life and broken 
 my arm." 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! " said Alice, " what did you do that 
 for, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 " Supposing we find out first what are the facts in 
 this case," said Robert ; and, placing one hand care- 
 fully under Helen's left elbow, he passed the fingers of 
 the other upward to her shoulder. Just below the point
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK. 8/ 
 
 of the shoulder he found a marked depression, and be- 
 neath the collar-bone in front a rounded swelling. 
 
 " Miss Dysart's arm is not broken," said he, " but 
 her shoulder is out of joint." 
 
 " Oh, but that is dreadful ! " said Alice. " What can 
 we do ? " 
 
 "We shall do very well, I dare say," said Helen 
 cheerily. 
 
 Robert hesitated and looked perplexed for a moment. 
 Then he said, " Miss Dysart, there is no surgical aid 
 nearer than Meiringen, ten or twelve miles away. 
 With every hour of delay your arm will become more 
 swollen, and reducing the dislocation a more painful 
 and difficult business. I think I know enough to set 
 and dress it ; and if so, the consequences of this acci- 
 dent will not be at all serious. I have often been the 
 rounds with surgeons in hospital ; and out on the plains 
 I have had to take care of myself, my men, and my 
 neighbors." 
 
 " Do try, then," said Helen ; " and tell me what I am 
 to do." 
 
 " First, then, let Miss Alice get your dress off from 
 this arm and shoulder " ; and, giving his knife to Alice, 
 he added, " You will best know which seams to cut, so 
 as to leave the whole arm and shoulder uncovered. I 
 will do everything else." From his bag he brought 
 a case which for years had been part of his travelling 
 outfit, and with it a girth, taken from the saddle of the 
 horse. " I must give you chloroform," said he. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Helen ; " I can bear any necessary 
 pain."
 
 88 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " It is not merely to save you pain ; it is to relax all 
 the muscles, and make the operation and the injury as 
 slight as may be." 
 
 " Very well," said Helen. " Am I to sit up ? " 
 " No," said Robert ; " we will make a couch for you." 
 He laid some folded shawls on the grass, rolled 
 another for a pillow, and with a third covered her 
 limbs. Alice was bidden to hold her hands. Robert 
 placed his handkerchief, wet with chloroform, in his hat, 
 slowly brought it near her nostrils, and bade her breathe 
 full and long, without fear. She passed quietly under 
 the influence, Robert counting her pulse and respira- 
 tions the while. When she approached unconscious- 
 ness he lifted the unhurt arm and let it fall : it dropped 
 heavily by her side. Then he gave the chloroform to 
 Walter, bidding him be careful not to cover her face 
 with it; turned back the ripped dress, and uncovered 
 her neck and shoulder, round and firm and fair as ivory ; 
 stretched out her arm at right angles to her body, bade 
 the guide draw it outward and upward while he grasped 
 the head of the bone, which lay like a round ball among 
 the muscles of the chest ; and then, with an oscillating 
 movement, forced it down into the hollow of the armpit. 
 Next he bade Walter, after giving her a little more chlo- 
 roform, to pass the saddle-girth in a loop under the 
 armpit, and draw steadily outward and upward, while 
 he took the arm from the guide, grasping it firmly above 
 the elbow, and, rolling it slowly in his hands, brought it 
 down against her side. The loop in Walter's hands 
 yielded suddenly, and the head of the bone slipped into
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK. 89 
 
 its socket without any force. The arm could now be 
 moved in any direction, and the depression beneath the 
 shoulder had disappeared. 
 
 Alice, who had watched with contracted brow every 
 step of this mysterious process, saw the look of care 
 dissolve in Robert's face, and heard the long-drawn 
 breath of relief which marked the success of the opera- 
 tion. She bent and kissed Helen again and again, then 
 she pulled Robert down and kissed him also, and then 
 she buried her face in the folds of Helen's dress and 
 began to cry. The boys were ready to dance with de- 
 light, only Robert was calm. He pinned the cut dress 
 together, and seeing Helen's collar-stud on the ground 
 beside her, quietly put it in his own pocket. Then he 
 called, " Come, Miss Alice, get your needle and thread, 
 and run up this sleeve." 
 
 Alice obeyed, and had nearly finished when Helen 
 opened her eyes and slowly said, " Is it all done ? " 
 
 " All done," said Robert ; and he sent the guide 
 for a cup of water. 
 
 " Did you feel all that dreadful pulling and pushing ? " 
 said Alice. 
 
 "Not a bit, dear," said Helen. 
 
 " Very well, then, Mr. Audran is a great surgeon, that 
 is all I have to say ; and I have kissed him for it, and 
 I think you should do so too." 
 
 Helen looked in a dreamy, bewildered way from one 
 to the other. " Not without leave, do you think ? " 
 she said, with a little gleam of fun. 
 
 Robert bowed his head, she lifted hers and softly 
 kissed his cheek.
 
 90 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " That 's right, a very nice little fee," said Alice 
 complacently. " Can you sit up ? " 
 
 Helen raised herself, and Robert with a long scarf 
 so confined and supported her arm and shoulder as to 
 secure perfect rest and ease. 
 
 " What next ? " said Alice. " How are we to get out 
 of this?" 
 
 " She will look very different in half an hour," said 
 Robert, " and we shall get to Imhof or Meiringen quite 
 comfortably." 
 
 " I feel as though I could walk now," said Helen. 
 
 " There is no need of walking," said Robert. " Last 
 night I telegraphed from the Rhone glacier to have two 
 saddle-horses and a chair sent up from Meiringen to 
 meet us. They were to leave at eleven, so they cannot 
 be far away now. Does your shoulder pain you, Miss 
 Dysart ? " 
 
 " Very little," replied Helen ; " but my head swims a 
 good deal after the chloroform. I hope I have not said 
 or done anything very bad ; have I, Alice ? " 
 
 "Everything that you should, and nothing that you 
 should n't, as usual. Eh, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 " All that I can say about it," said Robert, " is that 
 Miss Dysart has done just as I believed she would in 
 any great danger or emergency. If she had been hys- 
 terical or fantastic in any way, she would not be sitting 
 here, safe and happy ; and what would then have be- 
 come of us ? Miss Alice, I do not think that even now 
 you know what has happened " ; and he told her of that 
 " vision of sudden death," and the one hazardous mo- 
 ment on which all had depended.
 
 THE FALLS OF THE HANDECK. 9! 
 
 " And she hung by her arms over that awful gulf ! " 
 said Alice. " How horrible ! What did you think 
 about, Helen ? " 
 
 " Nothing. I saw only Mr. Audran's terrified face, and 
 the dark pines above. I heard the waters dash, I felt 
 a gripe like iron on my arms, but I thought of nothing 
 until they were just drawing me in over the edge of the 
 cliff, and then I knew that I was not to die, and you 
 were not to suffer. Oh ! how are we to thank you 
 enough, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 "That is one of the things that no fellow can find 
 out, as Dundreary remarks," said Eugene. "I can only 
 say he has earned the everlasting gratitude of our family, 
 and that I don't know anybody else in the world who 
 would have been capable of doing what he has done." 
 
 " Go away, please, all of you," said Helen in a broken 
 voice. " Leave Alice with me. I am dizzy, and per- 
 haps could sleep a little." 
 
 "Go down the road, boys," said Robert, "until you 
 meet the horses, and hurry them up. I will stay near 
 the ladies, and the guide will stay with us." 
 
 By and by Alice saw him quite a distance down the 
 hill, cutting green twigs by the handful. 
 
 " Let me get up," said Helen, " and see what is left 
 of me. Is my dress torn to pieces ? " 
 
 " I don't see anything wrong," said Alice. " Two 
 buttons gone from your waist, and a little dust on the 
 front of your skirt, that is all. Everything else is per- 
 fectly in order, but, O Nelly, what a fright we have had ! 
 As Eugene says, is there anybody else in the world but
 
 92 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 Mr. Audran who would have brought us out of this 
 scrape so wonderfully ? If you don't make it all right 
 with him I shall have a very poor opinion of you." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Helen sharply. 
 
 " I mean," said the dauntless Alice, ''that chance and 
 circumstances have brought you so close together that 
 you ought alwajs to belong to each other. There never 
 was a man who suited you so well, there never will be a 
 woman who could satisfy him so perfectly." 
 
 " Pray, let him find it out for himself, then," said 
 Helen. " Don't keep forcing us on each other. It is 
 you who will drive him away, you foolish girl." 
 
 " He adores you, Helen." 
 
 " Very well, let him say so then, when and where he 
 pleases. I know he likes me, and I know I like him, 
 but there are a thousand things to be thought of besides 
 liking. I don't intend that he shall be sacrificed to 
 his kindness in taking care of us, whatever becomes of 
 me " ; and she gave a little shiver. 
 
 " Well," said Alice, " all I can say is that it will be 
 an everlasting pity if you two don't find out that you 
 were made for each other." 
 
 " Come, dust me and make me fit to be seen," 
 cried Helen impatiently. " Am I all right now ? Let 's 
 walk down to meet him." 
 
 Alice adjusted her hair and hat, and brushed down 
 her dress with a few quick strokes, and they started off. 
 Helen walked with a strong, firm step, and but for her 
 bandaged arm and pale cheeks no one would have 
 guessed that anything had befallen her.
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 93 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 
 
 A S the ladies drew near the thicket where Robert 
 ** was still cutting boughs, Helen called, in her 
 clear, fresh voice, " Come, sir ! We can't afford to 
 leave you behind." 
 
 "Oh! there you are, sure enough," said he, coming 
 out, with a fagot of green twigs in his hands. "You 
 look, I think, even better for your moment of sus- 
 pense." 
 
 " Yes," said she ; " those who are born to be hanged 
 won't be drowned, you know ; and will you please tell 
 me what all those twigs are for ? " 
 
 " They are for you," said Robert, " something good 
 for bruises. We will have a decoction made to-night, 
 at Meiringen, and put it on your shoulder." 
 
 " What am I to expect about my arm ? " said Helen. 
 
 " It will be swollen and tender to-morrow, but less so 
 with each day, I hope," said Robert. " Perhaps you will 
 feel it a week hence, perhaps not ; and it may be that, 
 as vou grow old, it will occasionally remind you of the 
 Falls of the Handeck." 
 
 " You complimented my memory this morning, Mr. 
 Audran, and I don't think it is so shallow that I shall
 
 94 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 need a twinge in the shoulder to remind me of one of 
 the great events of my life. It might have been, a few 
 hours ago, that all this idyl of the Alps should dissolve 
 and be only a memory ; but now, wherever you go and 
 wherever I live, you must come to us whenever you can, 
 and you must not cheat me of the chance to render you 
 any service which may be in my power." 
 
 " It will give me pleasure, also, to meet Mr. Audran, 
 on all proper occasions," lisped Alice. 
 
 "Well, I hope," said Robert, "that this awkward 
 accident won't end our excursions. I had thought of 
 so many more which perhaps we might make together. 
 If it were not that your mother is expecting you at 
 Interlaken, I should propose to go from Meiringen, by 
 the Rosenlaui Glacier and Scheideck, over to Grindel- 
 wald ; and the next day up the Grindelwald Glacier ; 
 and the third day over the Wengern Alp to Lauter- 
 brunnen ; and the fourth day to Murren and the Schma- 
 dribach, and so to Interlaken. That would be, for 
 ladies, doing the Bernese Alps pretty thoroughly. In- 
 stead of which you will now have to stay some days at 
 Interlaken." 
 
 " We must go to mamma, certainly," said Helen ; 
 " but, Mr. Audran, could I make any part of that trip in 
 a chair, if I were not up to walking ? " 
 
 " You perceive that chairs are not to be despised, in 
 an emergency. I hope you may; but you. should consult 
 a surgeon when we get to Interlaken, and he will decide." 
 
 " I don't believe that any surgeon could have done 
 more than you did, Mr. Audran," said Alice.
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 95 
 
 " I don't know that," said he. " I am very proud of 
 my exploit, and, now that I have succeeded, am glad 
 that I did not hesitate to attempt it. I did hesitate ; 
 but I could not bear to think that you must go twenty- 
 four hours without assistance, and that your arm should 
 become inflamed and the reduction painful and un- 
 certain as it always is when delayed. I would not 
 have touched it had I thought I should make it worse 
 by the attempt, in case I did not succeed. As it was, I 
 suppose a surgeon would say that it was one of the 
 easiest dislocations to reduce. I have seen it done sev- 
 eral times, and once before succeeded in it myself. Last 
 year one of my herders was thrown from his horse, and 
 struck on the point of his shoulder. He was a poltroon, 
 and made me lots of trouble, so of course it was neither 
 so quickly nor so well over as now. Hark ! Did n't 
 you hear the boys calling ? Yes, they have met the 
 horses. Won't you sit down and wait for them ? We 
 shall get through in fair season, I think." 
 
 " As you please," said Helen, " but it does not hurt 
 me to walk." 
 
 In a few moments the horses appeared. Helen was 
 placed in the chair, Alice mounted one horse and Eu- 
 gene the other, and the party fared briskly forward 
 through the pine groves and the willows which were 
 scattered along the downward route. Thus they passed 
 through the meadows of Guttanen, bright with the pink 
 and yellow blossoms of the meadow saffron crouching 
 beneath spreading umbels of rue, and climbed the 
 rocky barrier which was once a dike and made a lake
 
 96 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 of that peaceful valley. They had ridden two hours 
 when Eugene insisted on dismounting and giving his 
 horse to Robert ; and Helen proposed that Alice should 
 try the chair awhile and let her ride. The sun went 
 down red in the west, and the stars, one by one, stole 
 out, as they steadily pressed on through meadow and 
 grove, the dashing Aar always at their feet, and the 
 road smooth enough, but always descending. 
 
 They had ridden for a long time without words, when 
 Helen said, " Why are you so silent, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 " I was thinking," said he, " what an unspeakable 
 sorrow and pain would have been mine if I were trav- 
 elling this dark road, carrying you home to your mother, 
 dead. I suppose I should have survived it, but it 
 would have been a shadow on my life which man or 
 woman or lime would never have lifted. What a dread- 
 ful ending to all the charm which, since that first meet- 
 ing on the Rigi, you have thrown over my life ! You 
 don't know, Helen, you whose life is passed in the 
 inspiration and confidence of friendship and love, 
 what an oasis in the desert of my solitary existence this 
 face-to-face and hand-to-hand companionship with such 
 a woman as you are has been." 
 
 " Why are you so solitary, Mr. Audran ? Why should 
 one who might contribute so much to society withdraw 
 himself from it ? There are many women like myself, 
 many better far than I, who wait, wait wearily, for the 
 coming of such men as you into their social world." 
 
 " I but submit to the inevitable. At thirty, when 
 Friedrich and Simon in Heidelberg told me that the
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 97 
 
 bar, the library, and even the life of towns and men, 
 were not for me, that I must live, if I would live at 
 all, in the open air and in comparative seclusion (it 
 seems now that it was a needless sacrifice, but then I 
 felt it to be imperative), I determined to seek my for- 
 tune where I might have part in the building up of a 
 State, and where any desultory powers and knowledge 
 which I possessed might turn in some way to the service 
 of a people who certainly need among them a leaven of 
 other life than such as now grows naturally out of their 
 soil. If my fortunes ever give me liberty to do so, I 
 may yet turn life to some good account. But I know 
 what I have missed ; and when a pleasure such as this 
 slides into my lonely way, it has a wonderful sweet- 
 ness both in its passing and in its memory. Does it 
 offend you that I speak as I feel ? Will you let me 
 talk thus to you, Helen ? " 
 
 She smiled. " I have no choice. We are alone : 
 what you say, I must hear." 
 
 " Does it not please you to hear, Helen ? " 
 
 "Yes, it does. Though 'but a shadow, but a sliding,' 
 I prize this glimpse into your inner life. I see so much 
 to admire, and hour after hour you place me so deeply 
 in your debt, that I shall have to do one of two things : 
 I must withdraw from your company, or I must think as 
 you think and say as you say." 
 
 " O Helen, you are so sure of yourself that you can 
 speak as few women can, as none ever did, to me." 
 
 " I ought to understand myself. I am almost thirty. 
 I have had the best and happiest home you can imagine. 
 
 7
 
 98 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 The authority of my parents was never anything more 
 than the weight of their better reason, the obligations 
 laid upon me only enough to teach me the sense of 
 responsibility ; and all my privileges and opportunities 
 were measured, not by my deserts, but by their kindness. 
 I have never had anything to fear but the loss of my 
 own self-respect and the confidence of my friends ; and 
 now it seems to me as though I were making a very 
 prominent addition to that number. You are I see 
 it to be a power, an influence, with me for I do not 
 know how long. Does it please you to be numbered 
 with those who are a light to my feet and a lamp to my 
 path ? " 
 
 "It does please me," said Robert solemnly; "and 
 God grant I may never mislead those gentle feet ! There 
 are the lights of Imhof yonder. I had thought we 
 would stop there, but we will go on to Meiringen if you 
 like." 
 
 " I will do just as you say," answered Helen, " but if 
 you leave it to me, we will stop at Imhof. First 
 thoughts are best." 
 
 " Imhof it shall be, then," said he ; and he wondered 
 if Helen had any idea whither his first thoughts would 
 have led him all that day. 
 
 Before she was ready for sleep a servant brought to 
 her room a pitcher of warm, dark fluid, and this line : 
 
 " It does not smell nice, but if you will dip a napkin 
 in it and swathe your shoulder for the night, it may save 
 you some soreness in the morning. 
 
 "IL A."
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 99 
 
 While her children were passing this eventful day, 
 Mrs. Dysart was alone in her chamber at Interlaken. 
 Not until morning began to grow gray had she been able 
 to sleep, and when sleep came at length, it continued 
 far into the day. It was eleven o'clock before she rang 
 for her breakfast, and, when that was ended, she seated 
 herself to write to her husband and daughter the history 
 which the previous evening had revealed. It was no 
 easy task to give a sketch of the baroness and her 
 methods and intentions, and after an hour spent in 
 the attempt she had nearly come to the conclusion that 
 it would be better not to write until she could speak 
 from fuller knowledge of both. 
 
 The baroness, meantime, had been haunting the public 
 portions of the hotel, in the hope of seeing Mrs. 
 Dysart, and by two o'clock the mutual impatience of 
 these ladies had become intolerable. The baroness, 
 feeling that hers was the aggressive rdle, again assumed 
 the initiative, and sought Mrs. Dysart in her room. She 
 was readily admitted, and, as Mrs. Dysart advanced to 
 meet her, each saw in the other's face the record of 
 anxiety and suspense. 
 
 The baroness began. " I have been much in doubt 
 whether I ought, so soon again, to intrude upon you. 
 Had I seen you among your friends, or starting for some 
 excursion, I should have thought it but proper to wait 
 a suggestion of your pleasure for further conversation ; 
 but as I knew for I took care to know that you had 
 not left your room since I left you in it, it seemed that 
 I might, and perhaps I should, come and ask for you.
 
 100 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 Do not let me interrupt you or detain you. Only let 
 me see you, know that I did not overtax your strength 
 or your patience, and I will wait until you indicate the 
 time for further conversation." 
 
 "You are very considerate, madame," replied Mrs. 
 Dysart. " It is certain that you have already disturbed 
 my bodily rest, but not so much as you have my mind. 
 That, however, was inevitable, and I believe that we 
 cannot now retreat from each other. I am therefore 
 glad to see you, and hope you will stay. There can be 
 no better time for us to speak and hear. To-morrow 
 my children will, I hope, return. To-day I should like 
 to understand better what I must tell them, if, indeed, 
 it be yet time to tell them anything." 
 
 "Yes, madame," answered the baroness, "to-day we 
 have to ourselves. I also would know from you how I 
 am to meet the child of my blood and your nurture. 
 Do not think that I should ever wish her to forget what 
 she owes to you. Though I may gain a place in her 
 heart, her memories belong to you. For nearly thirty 
 years you have grown into her love. I could not if I 
 would, I would not if I could, disturb it. May I ask if 
 Helen has always believed that you are her own mother, 
 always and fully ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Dysart, "fully and always, until 
 very recently, at least, no doubt upon her relation to me 
 has entered her mind. Within a year she may have 
 begun to suspect that there is something which she does 
 not fully understand. Both Mr. Dysart and myself have 
 tried to prevent any distinction between her and the
 
 THE RISING TIDE. IOI 
 
 other children ; and to this day, if Helen has any idea 
 of such, it has not been mentioned between us. When 
 we came abroad Mr. Dysart accompanied us as far as 
 London, and returned after a week's stay there. One 
 day we met a gentleman who had known him many 
 years before, and in our presence he asked for Madame 
 Manuela. Mr. Dysart evaded an answer. There was 
 a sense of confusion which must have struck Helen, but 
 she never asked an explanation from us." 
 
 " Do you intend to tell her when she returns ? " 
 asked the baroness. 
 
 " That will depend upon my understanding of your 
 own intentions. If these are to pursue what you call, 
 and probably feel to be, your claim upon her, you are 
 sure in some way very soon to convey your purpose to 
 her. To prevent this would be impossible on my part ; 
 and in that case it would certainly be better for me to 
 make the communication myself, and without the delay 
 which would be your opportunity. Yes, I think I shall 
 tell her." 
 
 " And I think you are right, madame. You may be 
 sure that I should not have uncovered my life to your 
 eyes without a well-formed purpose, from which I could 
 hardly be put aside. You speak of methods of dealing 
 with me, as if I were only the enemy of your house and 
 yourself. I hope that feeling will pass. For myself, I 
 see no occasion for it, no truth in it. I hope to be use- 
 ful to all of you, hurtful to none. So long as the Baron 
 Waldeyer lived, there was a barrier between us. But 
 true man and tender heart that he was ! he always
 
 102 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 said to me that, if I outlived him, he hoped I might be 
 able to reclaim my daughter ; and in his last illness we 
 spoke often of it. He gave the half of his fortune to 
 me, and he said, ' You will need it to enlarge the life 
 of your Helen, if you can attract her to you.' I do not 
 mention this fact as an inducement, but as evidence 
 only that I propose no injustice to his memory or his 
 feelings. And yet, madame, while I certainly would 
 not intimate that any such considerations could control 
 your opinion or your actions, still, as a good mother, 
 you cannot object that the provision made for your own 
 children should be increased by my assuming the care 
 of Helen's interests. And since this aspect of the mat- 
 ter is before us, I recall the fact that I was my father's 
 only heir, and that, when I left London, I left behind 
 me, in keeping of Mr. Dysart, all the fortunes which 
 I thus inherited. Whatever they may be, whatever my 
 present right in them, they form at least an element in 
 the equities of the case, and I count it my good for- 
 tune that it is so. You asked me last night what my 
 intentions were. I cannot answer more than to say 
 that I wish to love and to serve Helen, to make her 
 life bright and happy if I may, and to share her so- 
 ciety, her happiness, her cares and trials, in my home 
 or in hers, as Providence may appoint and she permit. 
 There is but one other person in the world in whom I 
 feel an interest, the present Baron Waldeyer. He 
 is more than twenty years younger than his brother. 
 Several children of their parents, of intervening age, 
 died in infancy or early life, and when I first knew them
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 103 
 
 these two were alone. Adolphe seemed always, to both 
 of us, more like our child than brother, and no son 
 could be more dutiful or considerate than he has been 
 since his brother's death. And now, madame, have I 
 not sufficiently revealed my thoughts to you ? If not, 
 you must tell me what more you would hear." 
 
 " Yes, Madame Waldeyer, you have spoken fully, 
 plainly ; and it is not difficult to see that you are acting 
 less upon impulse than upon a very deliberate purpose, 
 and that you have taken account of all the means of in- 
 fluence which you possess. There are certain points, 
 however, which a woman of your intelligence cannot fail 
 to see. One is that Helen is her own mistress, of 
 such an age that no parental authority, whatever its 
 source, could control her action ; and her mind is so 
 clear and strong that she is not likely to be captivated by 
 any sentiment of which her judgment does not approve. 
 Your success must lie in your power over her ; that we 
 cannot resist. Until we know what that may be or 
 may not be, it is not worth while to consider what power 
 you can exert over any one else. I will not deny the 
 strength of the arguments which you place before me ; but 
 I will and must say that none of them would lead me to 
 influence her reluctant mind toward an acceptance of 
 your wishes, even if it were in my power to do so." 
 
 " It is as you say, Madame Dysart. I shall fail if 
 Helen does not turn to me of her own will, sooner or 
 later ; but it would be much in my favor if you would 
 not reach any other conclusion before all the aspects of 
 the matter are considered. I was Mr. Dysart's legal
 
 104 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 wife ; I was believed to be dead. Had it not been so, 
 he would doubtless have obtained a divorce. But I am 
 not dead, and he has not been divorced ! He can be so, 
 doubtless, through the public course of law. It will 
 make a case in the celebrity of which all of us must 
 share. Your position and that of your children will be 
 defined whenever mine is. You will be married when I 
 am divorced, not before ; and your children will still re- 
 main the children of an unwedded woman. If your 
 name and your fortune are to be undisturbed and se- 
 cure, if the lustre of one of the great names of France 
 and Spain is to be added to Helen's, you must be more 
 than passive in my behalf ; and before you commit your- 
 self to any action, you have to consider whether Mr. 
 Dysart would in all respects and to all extents share 
 your prejudice. These are perhaps ungracious words, 
 but I do not speak them because I like to do so. I told 
 you last night that I hoped you would see that our 
 interests are identical, not opposed ; that you would be- 
 lieve that what I desire is indeed desirable for all con> 
 cerned ; and that you and I at least may unite in feeling, 
 and bury all that is painful in the past or precarious in 
 the future in silence and oblivion." She ceased, sitting 
 erect and firm in her chair, and looking steadily at Mrs. 
 Dysart, who, as this conversation had proceeded, had 
 thrown herself backward in her chair and covered her 
 face with her hands. 
 
 In the long silence which followed, the expression of 
 the baroness's face changed ; and when, at length, Mrs. 
 Dysart uncovered her face, she saw no more the look of
 
 THE RISING TIDE. IO5 
 
 power and purpose beneath which she had quailed, but 
 such an expression of diffidence and sweetness that she 
 could hardly realize this to be the same woman who, a 
 few moments before, had gathered and twisted her heart- 
 strings with such prevailing force. But still the baron- 
 ess waited, with the air of one who would say, " I have 
 spoken : it is your turn now." So at length Mrs. Dysart 
 said, " Now, at least, Madame Waldeyer, you have 
 spoken fully and in very strong words. You must give 
 me time to review them. I shall be prepared to speak 
 with you at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, if you will 
 come to see me." 
 
 " That is what I should wish," said the baroness. " If 
 there is force and reason in the position which has been 
 stated, it will commend itself to your most deliberate judg- 
 ment. I would that it might be so, and that there might 
 never be occasion to give one moment's pain or doubt to 
 her who has, one after the other, redeemed the pledges 
 which I may have broken, built and adorned again the 
 home which I deserted. Perhaps some day you will not 
 remember any pain I may have given you. If I might win 
 for myself the same esteem which I feel for you, it would 
 be something only less dear than my daughter's love. 
 
 " Before I go, madame, I am charged by the Baron 
 Waldeyer to say that he will feel most honored if he may 
 place his carriage at your disposal for the remainder of 
 the day. I am sure you need the air, and respite from 
 these thoughts that trouble." 
 
 In spite of herself Mrs. Dysart smiled as she said, 
 "You may thank the baron for his politeness, which
 
 106 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 I can best acknowledge by accepting it. If Mr. and 
 Mrs. Irwin will go with me, I will send word to the 
 office of the hotel presently." 
 
 So Mrs. Dysart had a two hours' drive with her 
 friends in a splendidly appointed carriage, and when 
 she returned, found upon her table a large basket of 
 the choicest flowers and hothouse fruits, with the baron's 
 compliments. 
 
 When Helen appeared the next morning, she was 
 pale, and showed traces of yesterday's shock. To 
 Robert's inquiry she answered that her shoulder was 
 somewhat swollen and discolored ; the arm stiff, but not 
 hot or painful. 
 
 " Did it keep you awake ? " said he. 
 
 " I think not," she answered ; " but the chloroform 
 seemed to have excited my brain, for I thought of every- 
 thing for four hours before sleep came. The lotion 
 cooled and soothed the shoulder, certainly." 
 
 " Cooled you all over, I should think," said Alice. 
 " You owe more acknowledgments to your good doctor 
 than to turn a cold shoulder only on him." 
 
 " Well," said Robert, " if she gives me one cold shoul- 
 der, she might as well give me the other : it would be 
 inconvenient to divide." 
 
 They were early on the way, and in due time came to 
 the lake. The young people, released from two hours' 
 confinement in the carriage, strolled gayly about the 
 steamboat. Helen and Robert seated themselves qui- 
 etly at the stern. 
 
 She said, speaking with hesitation, " Mr. Audran, with
 
 THE RISING TIDE. IO? 
 
 all the confidence there has been between us, I think 
 I must tell you something which you certainly don't 
 know." 
 
 His heart rose in his mouth. He thought she was 
 going to tell him that she was pledged to another. 
 
 She continued, " There is some mystery about me. I 
 have never been able to fathom it, something about 
 my birth. Somehow or other I feel as if it were draw- 
 ing to a crisis. I have not been so long parted from 
 mother for two years, and as I come toward her again 
 I am so nervous ! I shall be so glad to see her ! I 
 trust nothing has happened to her." 
 
 " You will meet in half an hour," said he ; " and 
 then I must lay down my privileges, the right to 
 guide your ways which she intrusted to me three days 
 ago. Let me tell you now that I have still six weeks 
 at my command. On the 24th of August I sail from 
 Liverpool for New York ; on the 7th of September 
 I must be at Fountain, as my ranch is called, 
 an abbreviation of ' Fontaine-qui-bouillit,' the name 
 which the old French trappers gave to the stream 
 which runs through it down to the Arkansas River. 
 Just there seems to have been the dividing-line of pos- 
 session, for all the names south of me are Spanish, 
 Las Animas, Las Vegas, Pueblo, Trinidad, El-Moro; 
 and north they are French, Cache La Poudre, Saint 
 Vrain, etc. My home is about twelve miles south 
 of Colorado Springs, on the southern slope of that 
 great ridge which slopes down from the Rocky Moun- 
 tains and separates the basins of the Platte and the Ar-
 
 108 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 kansas, a wild and fantastic country. I will tell you 
 sometime what manner of life we lead in it. It is, I as- 
 sure you, a life, of exile. Do you not think I shall have 
 occasion to contrast these days with those which form 
 the dull round of life for me ? Until I met you I was 
 more than content in it, I was complacent ; and now 
 I ought to be thankful that this glimpse of social life, 
 with all its fancies and sympathies and instincts, has 
 been vouchsafed to me. But if ever I am to attain the 
 fortune and the position to which I have aspired, I must 
 turn away from them, and give to my rude life the whole 
 force of my thought and the most constant industry of 
 my time. Were it otherwise, Miss Dysart, I should 
 seek to commend myself to you, to gain, if I might, 
 something more than a few hours of your leisure, 
 something more than " 
 
 " Allow me to interrupt you, sir," said Helen. " In- 
 deed, you do not show to advantage at this moment, 
 for you seem to wish to protect yourself and me from 
 any misconception of your great kindness and very val- 
 uable service, and to recover for your own sake or for 
 mine something of the distance which our intimate 
 life of the past few days has abridged. If it be for your 
 own sake, I shall not tell you how far I wish you success ; 
 if it be for mine, I must not allow you to suppose the 
 effort to be at all necessary. Our freedom toward each 
 other has grown naturally out of the circumstances in 
 which we were placed. It has given me a knowledge of 
 a nature which will always, I am sure, command my es- 
 teem ; of a power which, whenever and wherever I may 
 come within its reach, will be genial and gracious and
 
 THE RISING TIDE. 
 
 good. If I have left on you in any degree a similar im- 
 pression, it flatters me to believe it ; and I do not hesi- 
 tate to tell you that I owe you all that friendship may 
 give or ask, sympathy with your ambition, jealousy of 
 your good name, joy in your success, pleasure in your 
 presence. All of these, unbidden, you will have ; and 
 you will have nothing else which you do not ask. Now, 
 you say you have some weeks at your command, and, if 
 I remember one of our earlier conversations, you then 
 said you proposed to spend it in Switzerland. We are 
 to be here, and if your plans do not draw you else- 
 where, the longer we may have something of your com- 
 pany, the larger will be our pleasure and profit in it. 
 Our party is complete in itself, and needs no other ; but 
 beyond its needs are its privileges : while you choose 
 to add yours to it, I do not believe we could find any 
 addition so welcome. I speak for all. You know how 
 Alice thinks of you, and Eugene ; and I know how my 
 mother will feel, when she knows you as we do. Here 
 we are. Now for mother's history ; it can have no 
 events like ours." 
 
 A few moments later a carriage delivered Helen and 
 Robert at the hotel, while the younger party went di- 
 rect from the steamboat to climb the Kleine Rugen. 
 
 As they parted in the hall Robert said, " May I find 
 the best surgeon in the place, and send him to examine 
 your arm at half-past one ? And, .since the young folks 
 will be home by four, may we all meet for dinner at 
 the table d'hote at five ? 
 
 "Yes to both," said Helen cheerily. "Au revoir, 
 Mr. Audran ! "
 
 no MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 T TELEN went directly to her mother's room on their 
 *- -* arrival at Interlaken, and was instantly greeted 
 with, " What is the matter with your arm, child ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is a long story, mother. You shall know all 
 about it directly. It is all right now, I think ; but a 
 surgeon is coming presently to make sure. You must 
 help me to get ready for him ; and please, dear mother, 
 bring me some things from my room, and let me dress 
 here, while I tell you about it." 
 
 So the history of the last three days was told in a 
 very effective way, and very much to Mr. Audran's 
 credit. " Did you ever see such a man, mother ? " said 
 Helen, as she ended her tale. 
 
 " Evidently you never did," replied Mrs. Dysart. 
 " He must be a wonderful person indeed, if he has 
 captivated our difficult Helen." 
 
 "I do not deny it," she answered. "We have agreed 
 to be always the best of friends, and meantime we are 
 to say whatever we like to each other, just as we have 
 done for the last three days. His flattery is something 
 worth while, mamma, I can assure you." 
 
 " Has he made love to you, Helen ? "
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. Ill 
 
 " No, not at all. He would not do such a thing 
 under such circumstances ; but he has told me frankly 
 that he likes to be in my company, and should be sorry 
 to leave it. Only think, mamma, what his life must be 
 on those dreary Colorado plains, with nothing about 
 him except Indians and cattle." 
 
 " Why does he live there, then ? " 
 
 " He went for his health, in the first place. He had 
 been told that it was necessary, and he invested all 
 his fortune in such a way that he cannot get it back at 
 present, and he ought not to do so, for it is increasing 
 rapidly. So he must stay." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Dysart, "I think you must have 
 kept him pretty much to yourself, to learn all this. 
 Perhaps Alice will have a different story to tell about 
 him. She does not like to be neglected." 
 
 " Alice was really absurd. She kept pushing me on 
 him and him on me ; you know what a tease she can 
 be. You will see by and by whether she thinks well of 
 Mr. Audran or not." 
 
 "Very well, I shall soon know," said her mother. 
 "Meantime, there is another Richmond in the field. 
 You must prepare yourself to be very civil to the Baron 
 Waldeyer." 
 
 " The Baron Waldeyer ! ' What is Hecuba to me or 
 I to Hecuba?'" 
 
 " Did you not meet him on the boat, the day you 
 left ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did ; but I had forgotten it. Mamma, I 
 have n't told you, but I shall never forget the baroness
 
 112 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 and that morning. She took the greatest and most 
 sudden fancy to me, past all understanding." 
 
 "No, Helen, not past mine or hers. I have some- 
 thing very strange, very important, to tell you ; but I 
 must not begin before the doctor comes." And Mrs. 
 Dysart proceeded to arrange for her child a most effec- 
 tive and dainty invalid's toilet of white muslin wrapper 
 and pale-blue ribbons. Scarcely was it complete when 
 the card of M. le Docteur Sciler, Chirurgien, was brought 
 to the door, and the doctor himself followed. 
 
 He examined the shoulder carefully, pronounced it 
 perfectly in place, and the swelling very slight. Almost 
 all traces of the accident would be gone in a day or two, 
 and mademoiselle was very much indebted to the gen- 
 tleman who so promptly replaced it, he said. Was 
 much force required ? 
 
 "I think not," said Helen. "I was under chloro- 
 form, but my companion said it seemed to be done 
 more by some sleight of hand than by violence." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the doctor, " the procedure of the Ameri- 
 can^ method of Reid and Bigelow. It is not every 
 surgeon who has learned the proper manipulation. Your 
 friend is an adept, it appears, very successful, cer- 
 tainly, for an amateur. He has also told me that you 
 have employed a decoction of hamamelis as a dressing. 
 That also is well. My work is anticipated. Should 
 any unexpected trouble occur, I shall be pleased to be 
 called in again ; but for the present I have the honor 
 to wish you good evening." And the doctor bowed 
 himself out.
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 113 
 
 " Now, mother, what is it ? " said Helen, as the door 
 closed. 
 
 And Mrs. Dysart recounted with wonderful precision 
 all that had passed between herself and the baroness. 
 They were still in earnest conference when Alice and 
 Eugene entered. When Mrs. Dysart had made sure 
 that they were safe and sound, she asked, " Have you 
 had a good time, Alice ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, Mrs. Dysart ! That is the way to live, 
 to have every sort of pleasure prepared for you, and 
 then to enjoy it with the best company in the world." 
 
 " So you too admire the Audrans, do you ? " said Mrs. 
 Dysart. 
 
 " Of course I do. Walter is my peculiar property, 
 and he is a perfectly splendid boy ; and as for Robert, 
 if Helen ever lets him go, she ought to die an old 
 maid." 
 
 " Suppose he lets her go, Alice," said Helen. 
 
 " Nonsense ! He worships you, you know he does ; 
 and if you don't know, I do. Did n't he save your life, 
 when we sent that awful log down on you ? Oh, if we 
 had killed you, forever and forever ! We should have 
 done it had it not been for him, and none of us ever 
 could have been happy again, never ! Mr. Audran 
 saved you and all of us, and then he treated you like all 
 the skilful doctors in the world put together ; and long 
 before that he as much as told me that you were all the 
 gain and all the good of life to him. He let you go ? 
 Why, you were made for him ! " 
 
 Helen was almost as much excited as Alice as she 
 8
 
 114 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 said, "Now, Alice, please make an end of this just 
 now and here and forever. Mr. Audran and I shall be 
 good friends as long as we have a chance, and that is all 
 there is of it. You make yourself ridiculous and me 
 wretched by assuming that there is anything more. You 
 are endangering all my pride and self-respect, and you 
 will annoy Mr. Audran by putting him where he does 
 not wish to go. You would not drive him away from us 
 all, would you, dear ? " 
 
 " Well, all I can say is that I hate it ! " said Alice. 
 "I hate these measured words, these smothered feel- 
 ings. It is not the way in which we have lived these 
 last four days. Mr. Audran broke that all up at once, 
 and taught us that we might say just what we thought 
 and do just as we felt. It was lovely, and there was no 
 harm in it." 
 
 " Yes," said Helen, " Mr. Audran knows how to make 
 everything pleasant, and he felt that this little trip 
 was to be a thing apart by itself, a venture out and 
 away from the world, a brief season with Nature, where 
 perfectly natural impulses might rule ; and it was re- 
 freshing and memorable. But Mr. Audran knows just 
 as well that impulses do not rule the lives of sensible 
 people, and that in the main we must make to-morrow 
 like to-day ; he would not think of continuing the man- 
 ners of an excursion like ours into the life of a man of 
 the world ; and you would not like it if he did. You 
 would not be so impulsive in your own case, Alice : it 
 is only for your friends that you assume so much, and 
 are so very inconvenient. 1 '
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 115 
 
 " Well," said Alice humbly, " it was very nice while 
 it lasted, but I won't say any more. There is no use 
 in arguing with you, Helen ; but if you feel as you talk 
 now you are colder-hearted than I thought you were 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Let it pass, dear," said Helen, with a sigh ; " and 
 now go and dress for dinner, and please come back af- 
 terward and get a note for Mr. Audran. Mamma and 
 I must be alone all the rest of the evening. Can we 
 trust you with those three gentlemen, or must we send 
 you to bed ? " 
 
 " How provoking you are ! I shall make no promises 
 now. You and Mrs. Grundy may inquire into the mat- 
 ter afterward, if you like." 
 
 Then Helen wrote her little note : 
 
 DEAR MR. AUDRAN, I told you that I felt as if 
 some crisis were coming : it has come. My mother and 
 I have enough to do to consider it. To-night we must 
 give to each other. Later I may explain further. 
 
 H. D. 
 
 Then the two resumed their interrupted conversation. 
 
 " Now tell me, mother dear, what real impression of 
 the baroness has all this left on your mind ? " 
 
 " It is not so hard for me to understand her," said Mrs. 
 Dysart. " As a young woman she was a person entirely 
 emotional, with no resources of education or society. 
 Her faculties were altogether undeveloped ; she knew 
 nothing of the world ; and she has a most ardent tem- 
 perament, nothing but the most devoted love and
 
 Il6 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 attention would have satisfied her. She could not enter 
 into your father's cares and business anxieties ; she 
 could not even entertain his leisure if indeed he had 
 any with any theme but herself. She never loved 
 him really, but she had a most insatiable need of being 
 loved by some one. 
 
 " Your father has often told me that he did a great 
 wrong in not devoting more time and thought to her. 
 But he was working with the greatest anxiety to rescue 
 that mine, and to convert a crushing disaster into suc- 
 cess. And he did it. This, and this alone, was the 
 idea of his life at that time ; and just as success greater 
 than he had dared to hope had become assured, you 
 were born ; and as your mother says, and her physicians 
 said also, she was not fully responsible for what she did. 
 Women after a confinement often become morbid to 
 the point of insanity in some one direction, while appar- 
 ently sane in all others. He left her, he should have 
 stayed with her, and she was stung by the apparent 
 neglect into a kind of monomania, the common result 
 of which would have been the taking of her own life ; 
 instead of which she fell into the way of this Baron 
 Waldeyer, who, according to her account of him, must 
 have been a remarkable man, such a man as some of 
 Shelley's biographers would like to have us believe him 
 to have been. 
 
 "Most men capable of enticing a married woman 
 from her home would be capable of deserting her in a 
 month ; but this man was an exception. He continued 
 fond and faithful till he died ; and they lived a life
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 117 
 
 apart from the world, filled with thought and study and 
 enthusiasm, under which her excellent natural powers 
 developed, and she became a thoroughly well-educated 
 woman. Without children or domestic cares of any 
 kind, they lived in and for each other, cultivating a ro- 
 mantic sort of morality and philosophy, for which, I 
 dare say, we might all be the better. At any rate, she 
 regards him as the author of all her powers ; and she 
 has such skill in conversation, and is so continuous and 
 logical in her discourse, that it is evident she has been 
 formed on some masculine model, and that a good one ; 
 while her thoughts and feelings are full of tenderness, 
 as only those of a woman who has been dearly and en- 
 tirely loved and trusted can be. I do believe that these 
 two abandoned people were thoroughly gentle, conscien- 
 tious, and forbearing toward each other, and that they 
 meant to do every good for which they found opportu- 
 nity. How else could it be that when the baron came 
 to die, he should have thought- so much of you, as one 
 who might take his place in cherishing and comforting 
 her ? How else can it be that she speaks of him always 
 as though he had been the model of every virtue, and 
 that, with wealth and station at her command, her first 
 desire and longing should be for a quiet life and family 
 affection ? I think, too, there is a sense of wounded 
 conscience which leads her to wish very earnestly to 
 make amends to her own daughter and your father's 
 child. Withal, she has the instinct of an outlaw : she 
 has framed her defence against society, believes it effec- 
 tive, is aware of her resources, and means to use them
 
 Il8 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 to the best advantage. In an extremity she might be 
 cruel, perhaps, but only in extremity. She is not selfish 
 or vindictive, but she is resolute and strong." 
 
 "Do you think my father has any conception of such 
 a character in her ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! He has believed for years we both be- 
 lieved that immediately after her flight she went to 
 the bottom of the ocean, with all her perverse and half- 
 insane fancies upon her, never more to suffer or to 
 repent. The thought of it has always been a great sor- 
 row to him ; and I was so glad to hear her say that he 
 was never unjust or unkind to her. The only sin she 
 charged him with was that he did not love her as she de- 
 sired to be loved. He has often told me that she had 
 excellent qualities, which training might have developed, 
 and has mourned over her starved heart and early death. 
 In one sense, I know it will be a relief to him to learn 
 that she lives, and has passed a sweet and tranquil life. 
 We must hope that she is essentially good, and kind 
 beyond the ordinary standard of men and women ; for 
 I fear she has us very much at her mercy in some 
 respects." 
 
 " Why ? What can you mean, mother ? " 
 
 " I mean that, so long as she lives undivorced, she is 
 still your father's wife, whatever I may be, and that my 
 children share my doubtful position." 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! That is impossible ! That is a nomi- 
 nal thing only. Surely, dear mother, you will not let 
 that trouble you." 
 
 " My dear, it is nominal, but then the names of things
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 1 19 
 
 stand for the things themselves to half the world. The 
 scandal-loving and the malicious could use this circum- 
 stance to our infinite annoyance and reproach, and they 
 would do so. There are always people who joy and 
 glory in giving undeserved pain to those whose station 
 in society has been such as ours. Of course, as the 
 baroness says, there must be a divorce ; and it is quite 
 in her power to make it a public matter, or something 
 done in a corner. Any way, it will be as she chooses." 
 
 " But surely she has more at stake than we. She is 
 but one, and we are five." 
 
 " Yes, that is it : she is but one, and we are five. Her 
 life is half done ; our children's lives are beginning. She 
 is not entangled, as we are, in a large social circle. 
 Think of all the base uses which malice might make of 
 such a circumstance, and of what we might suffer, par- 
 ticularly Julia. 
 
 " Beside this, there is her power over your father's for- 
 tune to be considered. You remember that Julia wrote 
 that he was troubled and sleepless about something; 
 and she has told me that that man Fayrolle, who was 
 mentioned in the letter, is her agent. I have been 
 trying to recall what your father once said to me on the 
 subject. As nearly as I can remember, it was that on 
 the very day when Manuela left London, he, at Glas- 
 gow, closed a contract with a Scotch company, by which 
 he sold to them the mine, receiving from them ^"10,000 
 and a royalty "of one fourth of the production of the 
 mine ; that in six weeks after, with an engineer and 
 superintendent of their choice, he returned to Mexico,
 
 120 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 leaving you in care of an excellent old lady whom he 
 knew ; that he remained there three months, and then 
 returned to Glasgow and became one of the resident 
 directors ; and it was there you know, that he married 
 me, when you were about eighteen months old. 
 
 " Now, your mother being dead as we supposed, you 
 were her only heir, only heir of old Paredes also ; 
 and so your father naturally treated the .10,000, and 
 the stock, which for twenty years continued to pay great 
 dividends, as his own ; and for her share the larger 
 share of that, with the addition, perhaps, of what the 
 lawyers term mesne profits, she may now call him to 
 account. I tremble to think what the amount may be, 
 much more than he could repay, I fear. He has often 
 told me that this mining affair was the one great success 
 of his life. What would become of us all, in that case ? 
 Is that not enough, Helen ? " 
 
 " A great deal more than enough, dear mother ; and 
 yet you think that she does not seem disposed to use 
 her power. Why, then, does she menace us with it ? 
 What does she want ? " 
 
 " She wants you, dear ; and, of course, I do not 
 want to give you up to her. To do her justice, she did 
 not hint at the power she might exercise until I had 
 defied her to do her utmost in case we chose to keep 
 you from her, and then she did it as mildly as was com- 
 patible with being fully comprehended." 
 
 " Of course she must know that to carry out any part 
 of what she threatened would settle forevr the question 
 of my ever having anything to do with her ? "
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 121 
 
 " Yes ; and that may have been the reason why she 
 was so very moderate. You could hardly imagine that 
 a meaning so hard and painful could be conveyed in 
 words and tones so gentle ; but all the time the iron 
 purpose could be felt under the silken courtesy. How 
 did she behave to you on the boat ? " 
 
 " She quite broke down, and broke me down too. 
 As Alice said, we both went to pieces in the most 
 extraordinary way." 
 
 " There is another side to the matter," said Mrs. Dy- 
 sart. " Before she hinted of the harm which it is in her 
 power to do, she tried to allure by indicating how much 
 she has to bestow. It was not made a parade of, only 
 delicately intimated. She would make you her heiress, 
 give you all manner of social chances, etc. But I did 
 not mean to speak of this : you will hear that more 
 naturally from herself." 
 
 " Well, I must see her," said Helen. " All this will 
 seem different, perhaps, when I hear it from her own 
 lips ; but, mother dearest, you can't imagine that it can 
 make any difference with me ? However I may be 
 complicated with her, I am more your daughter than 
 any one's else, and a thousand times more proud and 
 fond of you than I could be of any other. Oh, how good 
 you have been never to let me feel that there was any 
 difference between me and the other children, to have 
 been always so kind and true to the child of a stranger 
 and a reprobate ! " and she kissed Mrs. Dysart passion- 
 ately, and again and again. " Now, mother, shall I go 
 to her ? "
 
 122 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " Yes, dear, the sooner the better, I think. Anybody 
 else I should wish to caution and instruct ; but you, 
 you will do just what is right ; only don't anger her." 
 
 Helen went to her room to make some little changes 
 in her dress, and sent a card : " Miss Dysart will call 
 upon the Baroness Waldeyer in her apartment, in a 
 quarter of an hour, if the baroness can receive her." 
 
 The servant promptly brought back a card with these 
 two words upon it, " Do come." 
 
 A few moments later Helen tapped lightly at the 
 door, which was opened at once by the lady herself. 
 " Come in, dear child," she said. " I have been sitting 
 apart and alone since noon> waiting for this visit, and I 
 have been hoping and planning for it for years. When 
 you kissed me on Tuesday morning, I felt that it was 
 not for the last time. Helen, I have not been a good 
 mother to you in the past, but it is my great desire to 
 be so now. Whatever of life remains will be very sad 
 if I must spend it without you, and it seems to me that 
 it might be very, very happy if you will consent to make 
 it so. Through you I can make the only possible atone- 
 ment for the wrong I did your father. You may know 
 something of what the chagrin and sorrow of a childless 
 wife is said to be, believe me, it does not compare 
 with that of a mother for ever kept apart from her only 
 living child. What is your feeling toward me, Helen ? " 
 
 Helen looked long and searchingly at the stately 
 figure before her. The baroness was simply but richly 
 dressed in black. Her abundant white hair was brushed 
 smoothly up and back under a veil-like barbe of Span-
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 123 
 
 ish lace. The same lace trimmed the square corsage, 
 and was gathered and confined under the white throat 
 by a cluster of large pearls set in black enamel. Helen 
 felt that her mother had dressed herself to meet her 
 eye, and the thought gave her pleasure. There was a 
 moment of silence, then she said, " I do not know if 
 you expect me to answer that question exactly, madame. 
 I have not yet recovered from the surprise which my 
 mother's account has given me." 
 
 " I hope Madame Dysart has been able to tell you all 
 or most of that which passed between us. It will then 
 not be necessary for me to rehearse it. You have called 
 her your mother, Helen. Not even the pain which that 
 word from your lips occasions can make me forget that 
 she has earned it over and over again from you, and 
 that I owe her whatever is due to one who has saved 
 and guarded and restored my greatest treasure. But if 
 you call her mother, what will you call me ? " 
 
 " That is hard to say," answered Helen. " Perhaps 
 it may be mother, too." 
 
 "Are we not like each other, Helen ? Come, stand 
 with me before the glass " ; and she led her to a full- 
 length mirror, passed her arm around her waist, and 
 drew her to her side. " See ! " she said triumphantly. 
 
 There was indeed a striking likeness. The same 
 broad, low brow ; the same finely-cut nose, with spirited 
 nostrils ; the same pure complexion, though the mother's 
 was of darker hue ; and, more notable than all, the same 
 oval curve to cheek and chin, and full, columnar neck. 
 
 " I am old and heavy," said the baroness, " and you
 
 124 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 are young, but we are of the same height, and once my 
 figure was slender as yours. See here ! " and she drew 
 from her drawer a folding case of Russia leather, con- 
 taining three pictures of herself, one daguerreotype, 
 dated 1840, and two photographs, marked 1850 and 
 1860. That of 1850 would, allowing for fashion of 
 dress, have been a fair portrait of Helen herself. " Are 
 we not enough like one another to be mother and 
 daughter, Helen ? You have old Castilian blood in 
 your veins. Your great-uncle was President of Mexico, 
 and your great-grandfather an Admiral of Spain. You 
 were Helen Paredes Dysart when I left you in your 
 cradle, but I suppose they never let you hear that 
 name." Still they stood before the glass, and now the 
 baroness loosened her arm from Helen's waist. " Kiss 
 me, dear, before I let you go, and I will show you 
 something more." 
 
 She kissed her daughter on forehead and lips, and 
 then, stooping, drew from a drawer two miniature cases. 
 " This is your great-grandfather's portrait, Helen," she 
 said. It was a miniature on ivory of a fine, soldierly 
 man, in the showy uniform of a Mexican general. 
 
 " Now," said the baroness, " sit down on the sofa and 
 let me tell you a little story about the other. You must 
 carry it away with you when you go ; it belongs to you 
 now. I have told you that your great-grandfather was 
 an Admiral of Spain : he was more than that, he was 
 a brave man. When he was a young lieutenant of 
 marine, he was for the time attached to the suite of 
 Charles the Third, then the reigning king, at a time
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 12$ 
 
 when he was making his customary tour of the prov- 
 inces. . One day it was the nth of August, 1771 
 he was crossing the Bidassoa, when the bridge broke, 
 and the king and all his escort were thrown into the 
 river. From the wreck of the bridge and the mass of 
 men and horses struggling in the water, my grandfather 
 seized and rescued the king, almost losing his own life 
 in the effort. This brought him into notice, and, added 
 to his own merit, resulted in great promotion." The 
 king gave him this locket, inscribed with the royal name 
 and this motto, 'Pro vita reddita,' that means, 'For a 
 life restored/ you know. It was a great treasure to him ; 
 and, dearest, there it is, ' for a life restored ' to me, 
 your life, my darling. Let it be your mother's first gift 
 to you. Never mind looking at it now. It belongs to 
 you. You are his latest descendant." And she placed 
 the little case of faded morocco in Helen's hand. 
 
 " Helen, do you think I was a very wicked woman to 
 leave your father as I did ? I can see now how wrong 
 it was ; but you do not know how wild and wretched 
 and bewildered I then was. It seemed to me that he 
 never had loved me and never could ; and to be loved 
 was a necessity of my nature. I felt as though I must 
 die if no one cared for me ; that without love and sym- 
 pathy I should become wicked and deceitful and cruel. 
 I don't know to this day how I did it ; and when I met 
 Baron Waldeyer in Brussels, as I had appointed, I had 
 no idea how I got there, it was all like a delirious 
 dream. How certain it would seem that such a step 
 must conduct to some bitter end ! But it was not so
 
 126 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 with us. The baron was a wonderfully good man, an 
 enthusiast, whose soul had revolted from the common 
 restraints of life because of the tyranny of schools and 
 priests. He found what he sought for in my young and 
 wounded spirit ; and from the day I went to him to the 
 day when he went from me never to return, he was all 
 that a lover, a husband, a father, and a teacher could be. 
 We were together constantly, and never was there a 
 cloud or a chill between us. Can the daughter of Mr. 
 Dysart admit of any explanation, any excuse, for the 
 wife and mother who abandoned him and her ? " 
 
 " The daughter can believe, as she is told the father 
 does, that the act was done in an irrational and ir- 
 responsible state of mind, induced, partly at least, by 
 physical causes." 
 
 " Thank God ! " said the baroness, " if such charity 
 has covered my name and memory. Indeed, indeed, I 
 believe it was the truth, but I dared not hope to have it 
 recognized by those I had wronged. Helen, if I might 
 venture to say it, I have always felt that my disappear- 
 ance was a great and happy relief to your father. The 
 second choice which he made was infinitely more for his 
 pleasure and advantage than his first. I never could 
 have satisfied him ; I can well believe that Mrs. Dysart 
 has done so. Your father was beguiled into marrying 
 me in that lonely home among the mountains, where he 
 then supposed he might have to spend his life. In the 
 open world, among men and women, neither of us could 
 ever have chosen the other. No busy, intent, thought- 
 ful, ambitious man ought ever to have married me.
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 127 
 
 The Baron Waldeyer is the only man I ever knew who 
 could have made anything out of me, and he did it by 
 the education of a lifetime, associating me constantly 
 with himself, whose bright intellect was not more re- 
 markable than his gentleness and justness of temper. 
 If I talk all the time of myself, Helen, it is because I 
 am pleading my own cause, because I cannot bear to 
 fall under the judgment of one whose life has been calm 
 and serene and spotless as yours, till I have done what 
 I may to convince you that your mother is not and has 
 never been simply a faithless, erring woman. Our life 
 
 the baron's and mine was always recluse. We 
 never kept terms of intimacy with any of our country 
 neighbors. In the summer we sometimes spent a month 
 in the Black Forest or the Tyrol, and in the winter we 
 occasionally went to some Mediterranean town or island, 
 
 to Naples, or Palermo, or Malta ; but nine months 
 in every twelve we lived on our own estate near Colmar. 
 So it comes that I have no social aids or social chan- 
 nels for my life. I ask nothing of the world which I 
 have not already : it holds nothing that I want except 
 yourself." 
 
 " And what is it that you want of me, dear madame 
 m-mother ? " said Helen. 
 
 " The right to call you daughter, the hope to see you 
 often, the chance to serve your needs ; your love while I 
 live, your voice in my ear, your image in my eye ; when 
 my senses sink in death, your prayer for my parting 
 soul, your tear for my memory. Helen, I want to be 
 your mother."
 
 128 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 Helen trembled in the conflict of feeling as she an- 
 swered, " But how can I be divided from the associations 
 of a lifetime, from all the sure and long-proved sympa- 
 thies among which I have grown up, from the scenes 
 where my past is laid, from the methods in which only I 
 can work, from the objects which I desire to win ? " 
 
 " I do not ask it, Helen. J do not want to direct or 
 control your life ; I only want to observe it, near or 
 remote, as you may choose. You will not find me 
 intrusive ; you will find me serviceable. Whatever your 
 hold on others, whatever their hold on you, if you wish 
 it to abide, I do not wish it to be disturbed. I may not 
 go with you into your father's house, that is just pun- 
 ishment for my wrong-doing, but I would offer, if I 
 may, what amends are possible, and I cannot go un- 
 loved all the rest of my days. I am not young, but 
 there is life in me yet. It was this sense of want which 
 drove me from my husband once. Will my daughter 
 drive me away again ? To whom shall I go ? Thou 
 hast the words of life. I wonder at you, Helen, I 
 wonder that you should be nearly thirty years old and 
 Helen Dysart still. Perfect in form and feature, per- 
 fect in voice and manner, full of sense and force and 
 youth and love, are there no mates for such in your 
 land that you have not been wooed and won ? Wooed 
 often enough, it must be. You think I am flattering 
 you, my darling, perhaps, that this mode of speech is 
 of purpose. You don't know how I have dreamed of 
 you for years, of what you might be like. If you had 
 been very plain, I should have wanted you just the
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 129 
 
 same, but not just as much. I had my own notion of 
 you. I thought of you as pleasing, pretty, petite, slen- 
 der, frail, petulant, like so many American girls whom 
 I have seen at Nice and elsewhere. I never imagined 
 you as fair and firm and fresh and full j I never dreamed 
 how much I was to win in winning you, and I am elated 
 in proportion. On one trait in you I feel that I may 
 count, and that is sincerity. You would despise me if 
 you thought I did not mean what I say, and you would 
 detect falsity at once. With you I could not dare be 
 false." 
 
 " Where do you get all your words, mother ? It must 
 be your Spanish blood. We Americans are slower of 
 speech." 
 
 " Yes, dearest, I know I am excited ; but, as I told 
 you, I hardly dared to let you speak until I felt sure 
 that you would say the word I wish to hear. You have 
 said it, mother. Helen, I will not burden you fur- 
 ther at present. You shall go now, darling, to think 
 over what I have said ; but oh, how poor are words to 
 explain all I wish you to understand ! " 
 
 The baroness rose. On the opposite wall hung an 
 engraving of the Sistine Madonna ; it caught her eye. 
 With sudden emotion she flung herself upon her knees, 
 and with clasped, upraised hands and beseeching eyes 
 she prayed, 
 
 " Mary, Mother, Beloved, Spotless, as thou didst 
 love and worship thy divine Son, so intercede with him 
 that my daughter's heart may become mine ! " 
 
 Helen's tears started at the sight of such emotion ;
 
 130 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 and her mother, rising, took her in her arms and com- 
 forted her " as one whom his mother comforteth." 
 
 " Go, darling, to your other mother. Carry her my 
 love and thanks. You shall not again see me so de- 
 monstrative. We will be bright and cheery now." 
 
 Helen kissed her tenderly, and went as bidden.
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 131 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 
 
 T TELEN hastened along the passage toward Mrs. 
 * -* Dysart's chamber, and, making a sudden turn, 
 she came suddenly face to face with Robert Audran. 
 
 " Miss Dysart ! Is that you, weeping too ? " as he 
 looked in Helen's swollen eyes. Can I serve you in any 
 way ? If I can, you will tell me, I am sure, and will not 
 think me intrusive." 
 
 " No, you cannot serve me, at least not now," said 
 she ; " but indeed it is a comfort to know that you are 
 here. I cannot explain more at present, but you shall 
 know soon all about this crisis of which I spoke. Good- 
 night ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dysart was awaiting her. Helen entered and sat 
 down. 
 
 " Tears, Helen ? What a woman the baroness is ! 
 She has been very sweet to you, I know ; for you would 
 not cry for anything else." 
 
 " Yes, mother, you say truly, 'What a woman ! ' She 
 sent her love and thanks to you." 
 
 " What is that in your hand ? " 
 
 " Something which she made me take. I was so dis- 
 turbed when I left her that I did not know I had it. 
 Some jewel or decoration of her grandfather."
 
 132 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 She opened the box and took from it a medallion, a 
 disk of gold, about two inches in diameter, stamped in the 
 middle with the royal arms of Spain, and the legend, 
 "Carolus III. Rex Hispan. et Ind. a el Capitan Manuel 
 Pare'des. Pro vita reddita." Surrounding the legend 
 were two bands of blue enamel, each containing, in 
 ouches of silver, six rose-diamonds, and where the 
 bands joined was a thirteenth stone, a large and 
 valuable brilliant. 
 
 " It is very quaint and rare," said Mrs. Dysart, " and 
 very precious for its associations to those to whom it 
 belongs." 
 
 " She says it belongs to me, mother, as the latest rep- 
 resentative of his race." 
 
 "She can give it to you if she chooses ; but, in accept- 
 ing it, even more than if it were some gift not an heir- 
 loom, you accept your relationship to her. With all her 
 impetuous feeling, the baroness does not lack adroitness. 
 Was she very dramatic, Helen ? " 
 
 " I did not think of it while I was with her. She 
 seemed perfectly natural. I could not feel that she had 
 studied her part at all. As for me, my part was nothing ; 
 she did all the talking, and does n't she talk well ? 
 
 " Did she develop anything new, anything more 
 than she had said to me ? " 
 
 " No ; but she made me feel how intense was her need 
 of me. Mother, she is charming ; she must have been 
 very attractive once, she is so sweet and smooth and 
 soft, so graceful in all her motions and ways. She 
 says she has lived a very recluse life. It is clear that
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 133 
 
 she has not wasted her energy in dissipation or idle- 
 ness." 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Dysart, " I can believe that these two 
 people, Baron Waldeyer and herself, recognizing 
 from the first the frailty of the tie which bound them, 
 and the ruin of their life if it should break, set them- 
 selves to the preservation of it. They seem to have been 
 complementary natures. She was intensely emotional, 
 and he speculative and critical. Each was probably ex- 
 actly suited to the other. Helen, she would be a most 
 interesting friend ; and, in her present temper at least, 
 most delightful and genial. Her love and pride would 
 be a pleasure to you ; and I think there is a subtile sym- 
 pathy between you. I have come to feel as your father 
 does about it; for, since you left me, this letter has 
 arrived from him." 
 
 She gave the letter to Helen, who read : 
 
 NEW YORK, June 21. 
 
 DEAR EUGENIA, Julia has written you within a few 
 days. I shall not, therefore, have any domestic news to 
 communicate, except, in a general way, that all goes 
 well with the house and in Wall Street. We are both de- 
 lighted at such constant and pleasant news from you. 
 You will be quite cured of your rheumatism, I hope, 
 perhaps before you go to St. Moritz. God send that you 
 may do well enough to come back to us all in Novem- 
 ber, even if you should have to go to Florida in Feb- 
 ruary. 
 
 You are enjoying a great deal, it seems ; and now, in
 
 134 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 Switzerland, in July, it will be charming. I could feel 
 young again myself with Helen and Alice, among such 
 mountains and lakes. But there is an overhanging cloud, 
 and its shadow comes toward you ; perhaps it is 
 even now dark over you, a most unforeseen, and even 
 now, it sometimes seems, a most incredible complication. 
 I first became aware of it in the early days of this 
 month, by a visit from a Frenchman, a stranger, who 
 called himself Fayrolle, Louis Fayrolle. 
 
 Eugenia, he presented himself as the agent and repre- 
 sentative of the Baroness Waldeyer, residing near Col- 
 mar in France, or French Switzerland. And who, in 
 Heaven's name, do you think she proves for I cannot 
 doubt the proof to be ? My first, my long-lost wife, 
 Manuela, Manuela ! who, we never doubted, was 
 drowned at sea twenty-nine years ago. It seems that she 
 has been living peacefully, quietly, and if I may believe 
 Fayrolle an exemplary life, as the wife of a Baron 
 Waldeyer, philanthropist, philosopher, poet ; and now 
 she reappears as his widow to claim our Helen, her 
 daughter ! 
 
 I declare to you that it was with very mixed feelings 
 that I learned this story. There was relief in the feel- 
 ing that that poor young creature had not perished in 
 an act of infidelity to which she had been led by my 
 culpable neglect and by her own morbid condition. 
 But there was another different feeling. She can or 
 could do us a great deal of harm. As we were never 
 divorced, she is yet, in the eye of the law, my wife. 
 The law will break the tie, no doubt, and declare that its
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 135 
 
 existence has been only technical for nearly thirty years. 
 There is no penalty for me to dread, in this case, 
 alas ! it falls on you, for you are liable to be quoted, by 
 the malicious, as not being my wife ; and, if this woman 
 chooses, she may publish the fact as widely as she pleases. 
 More than that, our children ; it makes me sick to 
 think how their innocent names may be dragged through 
 the mire of gossip. And even worse than that ; for if 
 our social position and means remained what they have 
 been, we could in time live down scandal ; but she has, 
 I fear, an awful hold on all that I possess, the mine, 
 nine tenths of which were her father's and so hers, and 
 all the enormous profits of twenty years. It can be 
 figured up to half a million at least ; and that is more 
 than I am or ever shall be worth. 
 
 What chance she would have of recovering this at 
 law I don't yet know, for I have not been willing to 
 start reports by consulting a lawyer. 
 
 Dearest wife, I have not told you this because it 
 has been the spectre which has cheated me of sleep for 
 a fortnight. I would have borne it alone, if it had not 
 been for a practical, and perhaps a vital, point at issue, 
 and which is or may be in your control. 
 
 This man Fayrolle says indeed,- Manuela, in her 
 very able and effective letter, though she is careful not 
 to mention money in any way, gives me to understand 
 that she will accept her daughter Helen in full payment 
 of all claims against her father. It sounds like her; she 
 never did think or care for money. Now, do not think, 
 you dear woman, that I want to sell Helen. She is not
 
 136 MAN VELA PARADES. 
 
 a chattel. I could not make a delivery, as we say in 
 Wall Street. God knows I wish she were married, and 
 so out of any suspicion of control from me ! But this 
 most exacting woman, who reminds one of the old play, 
 " All for Love, and the World Well Lost," has nursed 
 her desperate passion for her child until she fancies she 
 can regain her like some substantial possession. Why, 
 if she had never left me, the child would, in all proba- 
 bility, have passed beyond her control as likely as 
 not, out of her sphere before now. If she loves 
 Helen, as, upon my soul, I believes she does, con- 
 sumingly, she would now be pining to have her well 
 married, in which event she would be hers no longer. 
 At any rate, she could never possess more of her than 
 Helen voluntarily granted, and all such claims as I have 
 stated would make no difference whatever. She is wild 
 in pursuit just now (how often we see that !) and if she 
 were to succeed she would find that success was some- 
 thing very different from her fancy. (How often we see 
 that too !) 
 
 Any actual control of Helen is therefore a phantom. 
 But she is a woman of real or assumed rank, of fortune, 
 Fayrolle says, of good manners and an education, ac- 
 quired I know not how; this her letter proves. Indeed, 
 it was a remarkable letter, and it reflected an adult or 
 matured phase of the woman who wrote that parting 
 letter thirty years ago. She has, therefore, in herself 
 and in her circumstances, advantages which Helen might 
 well be anxious to secure. 
 
 So, dear Eugenia, it seems to me, on the whole, that
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 137 
 
 as this baroness is pretty sure to waylay you somewhere 
 in Switzerland, you will do well to humor her. Give 
 her the shadow she pursues, and (I hate to seem mer- 
 cenary) the spectre will be laid. I must trust you to 
 put these ideas before Helen. She will never believe 
 that I love her less for urging them. 
 Ever faithfully yours, 
 
 ADRIAN DYSART. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart watched Helen's telltale face as she read, 
 and marked the shadows that flitted across it, as cloud- 
 shadows flit across a summer landscape. She handed 
 the letter back to her mother, with a dissatisfied air. 
 
 " Well, I might as well surrender at once," said she. 
 " The baroness pulls, and you and father push. Is there 
 strength enough in me not to move ? It seems that I 
 have risen into somewhat sudden importance. Here 
 are you three old people and Mr. Audran too, per- 
 haps who are speculating on what is to be done with 
 poor me." 
 
 " Perhaps the Baron Waldeyer will enter the field." 
 
 " That would be too much ! Really, it is flattering, 
 I, a modern Helen, and this a new tale of Troy ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dysart rose and rang the bell, and bade a ser- 
 vant bring a cot and bedding. "I do not wonder, 
 Helen, that with your fatigue, your arm, the chloroform, 
 and all this complication, you are tired and nervous. 
 You must not go away to your room alone ; you must 
 sleep here by me to-night, where we can .speak if we do 
 not sleep. We shall need all our nerve to-morrow."
 
 138 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 So they passed the night, and exhaustion gave Helen 
 sound and tranquil sleep. 
 
 While they were dressing in the morning, the servant 
 brought a large basket of loose flowers, and an enve- 
 lope containing a small drawing and a line from the 
 baroness : " Good-morning to my child. Here is one 
 of my little sketches. It is our chateau at Hohentauben, 
 near Colmar." 
 
 It was a tablet of paper, of the cabinet size of photo- 
 graphs, and the drawing was in sepia. It showed a 
 rocky height, standing at the outlet of a small lake, and 
 looking in one direction down a wooded ravine close- 
 walled by hills; in the other over a small, peaceful 
 lake, with sloping shores, smooth and well-cultivated, 
 bounded by a far-off, misty range of hills. This height 
 was crowned by an old feudal castle, its stern towers 
 and walls softened by climbing vines, and modernized 
 by piazzas and balconies. A sail-boat, in the middle 
 of the lake, was the only token of human presence in 
 the picture. 
 
 They were still looking at it when Alice's sweet voice 
 was heard at the door. Mrs. Dysart glanced at Helen. 
 
 " Shall we tell her about it ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Helen. "She cannot be kept long in 
 the dark, and I want her verdict. Come in, Alice ! " 
 and in she came, fresh and beautiful as the morning 
 itself. 
 
 " What are you two about ? " she said. " Oh, what 
 lovely flowers,- what colors and what odors ! and what 
 a dear little picture, the Vale of Tempe, I declare ! "
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 139 
 
 " And what do you say to that ? " said Helen, pointing 
 to the open locket-case upon the table. 
 
 " Why, that is superb ! Whose is it, pray ? " 
 
 " It was given to my great-grandfather by a king of 
 Spain," said Helen. 
 
 " Your great-grandfather ! Dysart or Mavrosigi ? " 
 
 " To my great-grandfather Paredes. Alice, the baron- 
 ess is my mother ! " 
 
 " Then Sinbad the Sailor is your father, I suppose," 
 said Alice. 
 
 " It is true, Alice," said Mrs. Dysart. " The baroness 
 was Mr. Dysart's wife, and is Helen's mother." 
 
 The amazement of the girl was so intense that both 
 the ladies laughed. This enraged her. 
 
 " And you both seem so happy over it ! I think I 
 had better go straight back to New Brunswick, where 
 they make harness and buckles and oilcloth, and things 
 that people can understand ! And what is your name 
 now, Helen ? " 
 
 " Helen Paredes Dysart, if you please, Miss Carroll," 
 was the answer ; and the dialogue ended in explana- 
 tions which threw Alice into a state of the highest ex- 
 citement. 
 
 " Have you acknowledged the flowers and picture, 
 Helen ? " said her mother. 
 
 Helen blushed. "Thank you, mother, for reminding 
 me. It is not too late yet " ; and she sent a little note. 
 
 The messenger returned presently, with one from the 
 baroness to Mrs. Dysart, in which she begged permis- 
 sion to invite herself, her children, and their compan-
 
 140 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 ion, to a little excursion. " We will bring you back 
 to dinner," ran the note. " Our plan is to go to the 
 Giessbach, and return in the afternoon boat." 
 
 This threw the party into a state of perplexity ; but 
 the influence of Mr. Dysart's letter finally prevailed, 
 and the invitation was accepted. Then the baroness 
 sent another little note : " Mrs. Dysart and family hav- 
 ing kindly accepted a proposal for an excursion to the 
 Giessbach, Mme. la Baronne Waldeyer would be further 
 gratified if the Messrs. Audran would add the pleasure 
 of their company." To which Mr. R. Audran replied 
 that the obligations of his correspondence, after some 
 days' absence, would prevent his having that privilege ; 
 and that Mr. W. Audran accepted with pleasure. 
 
 Eleven o'clock was the hour named for the start ; and 
 Helen, who foresaw that her new relationship could not 
 much longer be kept a secret, was anxious to communi- 
 cate it to Robert before leaving. She therefore pro- 
 posed to him to walk down the avenue after breakfast, 
 and while walking told him all. 
 
 At the hour appointed Baron Waldeyer, with the 
 utmost courtesy, placed Mrs. Dysart, the baroness, and 
 Helen in his own carriage, for the short ride to the 
 Lake of Brienz. The other young people went in an- 
 other carriage. 
 
 The day was perfect, and the baroness in the brightest 
 spirits, full of anecdote, of humorous comment and 
 pleasantry ; but there was no allusion to the peculiar 
 relations of the party. Crossing the lake in a little 
 steamer, they found chairs and porters waiting at the
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 141 
 
 landing, for the use of the ladies ; but these Helen and 
 Alice declined, preferring the walk. Walter, Eugene, 
 and Alice led the way, Helen and the baron followed, 
 the elder ladies in their chairs came after. 
 
 The baron was at first so ceremoniously polite, so 
 profoundly respectful, that Helen felt she must make 
 an effort to put him at his ease ; so she took the burden 
 of the conversation on herself : " The baroness has 
 given me a drawing of her home near Colmar this 
 morning. It seems a very isolated place." 
 
 " It is isolated," he replied, " but perhaps not so much 
 so as the picture would suggest. The chateau is built 
 upon the remains of an old feudal castle, and retains in 
 part its form. Such castles, you know, were generally 
 placed on points which commanded a wide prospect 
 and were difficult of approach. Madame has her ten- 
 antry about her, the high-road from Munster to Colmar 
 passes through the ravine, and there are estates on the 
 banks of the river above and below." 
 
 " Is that water, then, a river ? " said Helen. 
 
 " It is an expansion of the Fecht, which looks like a 
 lake. Perhaps it was a lake once, before its escaping 
 waters opened the ravine. Do you not think it a pic- 
 turesque place ? " 
 
 " Extremely so," said Helen. " I remember that 
 country between the Vosges and the Black Forest very 
 well ; it is extremely interesting. How many castles 
 you see from the railroad while passing through the 
 valley ! " 
 
 "You are right, mademoiselle. They overlook the
 
 142 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 valley from every point. That is because it was a great 
 highway, to which all the Swiss and Burgundian valleys 
 converge or conduct. At one time these castles were 
 the abode of robber barons who lived upon the plunder 
 of the commerce which moved up and down. But you 
 would think, in looking at them now, that they had 
 been placed with the simple purpose of making pic- 
 turesque and romantic effects in the landscape." 
 
 " Why is it," said Helen, " that just that region 
 southern France, in the valleys of the Rhine and the 
 Rhone, Provence, Burgundy, and western Switzerland 
 always seems the most interesting part of Europe ? " 
 
 " I suppose because it has had so eventful a history, 
 has belonged to so many different nations, and been a 
 kind of debatable ground between them. There were 
 the marches, or frontiers, upon which all bordered, and 
 where they made such frequent war upon each other. 
 There is scarcely a plain in all that region which has 
 not been the scene of a battle ; scarcely a height which 
 is not crowned by an oft-time besieged fortress. The 
 Dukes of Burgundy, Savoy, Valois, Navarre, and Conde 
 the Capets and Bourbons and Hapsburghs, and I 
 don't know how many more have contended about 
 the base of the Vosges and on the plains of Aquitaine. 
 These towers are the chronicles of ages, empires, and 
 religions. And this is the land of the troubadours, of 
 the gai science^ of sunlight, unlike the cold and cloudy 
 north, the land of the fig, the olive, and the vine ; the 
 land of Greek and Phoenician colonies older than Rome. 
 It is the beautiful land, where mountain and valley and
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 143 
 
 plain and swift-running rivers have fed an unfailing 
 stream of chivalry and poetry." 
 
 " Voici un exemple," said Helen, smiling. 
 
 " Voila une inspiration," said the baron, bowing. 
 
 "And tell me," said she, "how does the baroness 
 live there ? " 
 
 " The most simple and natural life you can imagine," 
 replied he. " I speak of the lifetime of my brother. 
 Both he and she were like Providence to the tenantry, 
 who brought their wants, their cares, their sorrows, 
 and their quarrels, and rehearsed them all in the 
 chateau. The mornings were always given to the es- 
 tate and the gardens, flowers are the passion of my 
 sister; the afternoons were passed in the library; the 
 early evening, generally, in riding, the baroness was 
 always a good horsewoman ; and later she busied her- 
 self with her music, while my brother wrote or studied. 
 But the light and life which children bring was denied 
 them ; and since his death, life for her is heavy and sad 
 indeed." 
 
 " And will she always live there ? " said she. 
 
 The baron hesitated, looked grave, and slowly con- 
 inued, " My sister has made me her confidant. I 
 .now her hopes, her wishes. Mademoiselle will pardon 
 ne if I say that much depends upon herself." 
 
 " On me ? " said Helen. " Has she said so ? " 
 
 " She has said it," answered the baron. " My dear 
 young lady, you do not yet know how passionately your 
 image, yet unknown, has for years been woven into the 
 tapestry of her life ; and now, I am sure, it is you who
 
 144 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 hold in your hands the shape and color of her remain- 
 ing days. Manuela is like no other woman. She must 
 have a personal object, another and superior self, domi- 
 nating her life, and making it serene and joyous by its 
 presence, or hopeless and desperate by its absence. 
 That was her life with my brother ; that will be her life, 
 henceforth, with or without you. If she might, she 
 would adopt the language of the maiden of Moab ; she 
 would say with Ruth, 'Whither thou goest I will go, 
 where thou lodgest I will lodge, thy people shall be my 
 people, and thy God shall be my God.' " 
 
 " Madame Waldeyer," said Helen, " certainly has 
 greatest success in enlisting others in her behalf, and 
 great force and skill in making them sympathize with 
 her wishes." 
 
 " Yes," said the baron ; " her faculties are not more 
 eminent than her command of them. But, my dear 
 Miss Dysart, you must allow me to suggest that the 
 skill and the success depend upon the fact that the ideas 
 commend themselves. What can be more according to 
 the truth of nature than that a mother should desire 
 and seek her only child ? Does not such a search 
 instinctively attract sympathy and aid from every one ? " 
 
 " It may be so," said Helen thoughtfully, and then 
 was silent. 
 
 They had reached the terrace which commands the 
 finest view of the Giessbach, springing from the moun- 
 tain's brow a thousand feet above, in seven successive 
 cascades, all mantled in the richest foliage, forever 
 freshened by the drifting spray. Not far off appeared
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 145 
 
 the hotel, whose beds of brilliant flowers, and piazzas 
 shadowed with bright awnings, gave a human charm to 
 this lovely sylvan retreat. There they stopped, while 
 the baroness and Mrs. Dysart were borne along the 
 upward path toward the house. 
 
 " Have you anything like that in your country ? " said 
 the baron. " I have heard, of course, about your great 
 Niagara, where one inland sea drops down into another. 
 For grandeur that must exceed anything of the kind in 
 the world ; but have you these beautiful cascades in 
 your smaller streams, like our Reichenbich, Schmadri- 
 bach, Staubbach, and this Giessbach?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Helen ; " we have numberless beau- 
 tiful waterfalls beside Niagara. Those that I remem- 
 ber most like this are the Winooski at Marshfield, the 
 Cascadilla at Ithaca, or the falls near Watkin's Glen. 
 At their best, some of them are quite equal to this ; but 
 our cascades are generally things of the seasons, be- 
 cause we have spring and autumn floods which swell 
 them to grand effects ; but in the midsummer heats, 
 which is the time when they are oftenest seen, the 
 streams are so shrunken that much of their beauty is 
 lost. In Switzerland the season of travel coincides 
 more nearly with that when melting snows make the 
 streams fullest. With us too the approaches to these 
 choice spots are apt to be difficult. We cannot enjoy 
 them leisurely and at ease, as here. That will come 
 by and by." 
 
 "Yes," said the baron. " What will not come by and 
 by in your wonderful country, where the capabilities of 
 
 10
 
 146 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 a great continent, the culture of all the best races, and 
 the progress of the nineteenth century combine under the 
 sway of illimitable hope ? No land or any age ever 
 moved toward empire and splendor at such a rate." 
 
 " Indeed, baron," said Helen, " it is a pleasure to be 
 so recognized. Have you learned all this in America ? 
 We know it, but Europeans think us braggarts if ever we 
 dare to say what we know." 
 
 " Yes, I once travelled through the United States, and 
 as a republican I am aware where our best precedents are 
 found, and the examples which best fortify our political 
 faith. What extraordinary development your communal 
 system as colonies gave to individual men I Even at the 
 birth of your republic, you had such builders of States as 
 Franklin and Hamilton and Jefferson. Of late I have 
 especially endeavored to inform myself about the United 
 States, because it may be that I shall be sent thither." 
 
 " In a diplomatic capacity ? " said Helen. 
 
 " Perhaps I should not have spoken of that which is 
 yet so uncertain," said he ; " but if I go at all, it would be 
 in connection with some branch of the public service." 
 
 " I can believe," said Helen, " that your interest and 
 your appreciation of our affairs would make such a 
 choice a very fitting one. But, my dear baron, if you 
 should go to America, what would become of Madame 
 Waldeyer?" 
 
 " I hope she would go also. She has always been 
 fond of travel, and has had much experience of it. 
 My brother usually took two seasons of absence in each 
 year, in mid-summer and in mid- winter. In that way she
 
 BARON WALDEYER. 147 
 
 has visited many lands, from Norway to the Nile ; and 
 she has spoken lately of a curiosity to revisit her native 
 land, and revive the memories of her youth." 
 
 Engrossed in conversation, they had lost sight of the 
 remainder of the party, who, as Eugene came running 
 back to tell them, were at the hotel, awaiting their 
 coming. 
 
 The young people proposed to explore the path to the 
 upper cascades. Helen declined, but the baron went 
 with them. Their walk ended at the grotto behind the 
 fall, whence they could see the beautiful green glade 
 below, and the gay hotel, and the rainbow on the 
 cloud of floating spray. Then they went slowly back 
 through the shadowed path, and the baron caught 
 bright butterflies, and gave Alice curious chapters of 
 insect lore. When they reached the hotel they found the 
 remnant of the party in a pretty pavilion by themselves, 
 and an elegant dejeuner prepared. The baroness, mean- 
 while, had been entertaining her guests with the story 
 of her retreat in 1871, before the invading Prussians, 
 from Colmar to Bale, a retreat covered by Bour- 
 baki's army, in which the baron was then second in 
 command. As residents of Alsace, they now belonged 
 to the German empire, but as yet were very imperfectly 
 reconstructed. So good was the dejeuner and so amus- 
 ing was the talk, that they nearly missed the return boat, 
 but at length, about seven, were safely landed at Inter- 
 laken.
 
 148 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 
 
 A T Interlaken Walter found a note informing him 
 ** that Robert had been obliged to go to Bern, but 
 hoped to return in two or three days, and would meet 
 him at Interlaken, or follow wherever he might have gone. 
 If there were no reason to the contrary, he hoped Wal- 
 ter would continue in the company of the Dysarts. 
 Helen also found a little note : 
 
 DEAR Miss DYSART, It has become necessary for 
 me to go to Bern. If our Minister is there and disen- 
 gaged, my business will detain me but a few hours, and I 
 shall hope to see you again day after to-morrow. I regret 
 to delay so long hearing whatever you may please to 
 communicate on the very important matter of which you 
 spoke this morning. A few days will make it appear 
 how far this discovery is to change your life. It is an 
 interesting and momentous problem how far a woman 
 with the character and history of the baroness will be 
 able to win your confidence and regard. Of one thing 
 only be certain : that, whatever your course in the mat- 
 ter may be, it will certainly command the respect of your 
 friend, and on all occasions your most obliged and de- 
 voted servant, 
 
 ROBERT AUDRAN.
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 149 
 
 This note was brought to Helen in Mrs. Dysart's 
 room. She read and handed it to her mother. 
 
 " A very proper note," remarked Mrs. Dysart, " since 
 you have seen fit to take Mr. Audran into your confi- 
 dence." 
 
 " Are you surprised at that, mamma ? It seemed to 
 me that I could hardly do less." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but it is evident to me that Mr. Audran 
 neither understands nor appreciates the baroness or the 
 baron. Certainly, I may say that I have seldom met a 
 woman who could make herself so charming or so agree- 
 able as she, nor have I ever seen one whose society you 
 seemed to enjoy so much as you did hers this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Helen rose and picked up her letter. " Good-night, 
 mamma," she said hurriedly. " The baroness is very 
 charming ; but papa and I feel there is no other woman 
 in the world who can step in between us and you." 
 
 Her voice trembled and her step faltered as she left 
 the room. Going to her own chamber, she locked her- 
 self in, and, throwing herself on the bed, then and there 
 went through with that process of redistribution, re- 
 arrangement, and regeneration of the moral forces 
 which is known as a good cry. Post nubila Phoebus ! 
 In half an hour she rose, with regained serenity, went 
 to her mirror, rearranged her hair, changed her ear- 
 rings, and fitted a new tie of pretty lace to her shapely 
 throat. 
 
 It was still early, and she began to wonder where 
 Alice could be. Going rather hesitatingly down stairs,
 
 I$0 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 she found the baron and the baroness with the three 
 young people seated at a round table in the " conversa- 
 tion room." The baron had placed a book for a centre, 
 and, with a box of dominoes to represent corps (Tannee, 
 was explaining to his absorbed listeners the siege and 
 capitulation of Sedan. Helen sat down also, and be- 
 came as much interested as any of them. It was eleven 
 o'clock when the party broke up, and not till they had 
 extracted a promise from the baron to explain at some 
 future time the battle of Gravelotte. 
 
 Alice went to Helen's room to compare notes upon 
 the events of the day. She began with the baroness. 
 This had been her first good opportunity of observing 
 that lady. 
 
 "I suppose," said she, "that it is because she has 
 never lived with children, her own or others, that she 
 talks to us as if it were needful to make every word good. 
 She does not speak with the authority of rank or social 
 class. Some people, you know, seem to feel that, because 
 they belong to some special class or school, there is vast 
 weight attaching to everything they say. She has not a 
 bit of that. She expects her words to be good for just 
 the sense and truth that is in them, and no more. And 
 she is very amusing. She made such fun of those Prus- 
 sian soldiers with spectacles ! " 
 
 " And you had quite a little walk with the baron this 
 afternoon, had you not ? " said Helen. 
 
 " Oh, I am afraid I shocked him dreadfully," an- 
 swered Alice. " I was just enough frightened to be 
 saucy ; and though he did not seem at all disconcerted,
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 
 
 I can see that he does not care for small talk, and does 
 not invite it. He has a great opinion of your under- 
 standing." 
 
 " Of mine ? " said Helen. 
 
 " Yes, of yours. He said you were a person of very 
 conspicuous merit, whatever that means. Does it mean 
 that you showed off a little ? " 
 
 " You impertinent child ! Was anything said about 
 the programme for to-morrow ? " 
 
 " No, I think not. If Mr. Audran had been here, we 
 should have had a plan of some sort by this time, of 
 course. He was always providing, and disposing of our 
 time in advance. It was very good for us, no doubt;. 
 but it was a little superfluous of him." 
 
 " It was very kind, I am sure," said Helen warmly. 
 
 " Yes," said the perverse girl, " very kind ; and he 
 knew just how kind it was, and just how kind he meant 
 it should be. He made routes and plans and paths, 
 and all we like sheep did walk in them." 
 
 " For shame, Alice ! You know you were his most 
 outspoken admirer thirty-six hours ago. Who was it that 
 called me cold-hearted, because I said much less than 
 you have just said ? Who is the fickle one now, I 
 wonder? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose it is bad of me," said Alice ; " but, 
 oh dear ! one set of emotions all the time is tiresome. 
 You are tired of variety, and I want it. You '11 marry 
 Mr. Audran, though, if he asks you, won't you, 
 Nelly ? " 
 
 " It will be time enough to answer you when I have
 
 152 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 answered him, Elsie. But how about the commodity, 
 your own peculiar property, miss ? " 
 
 "You mean Walter, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, then, it will be time enough to answer you 
 when I have answered myself. How cross we are, 
 Helen ! I don't know but the high strain of enthusiasm 
 was better, after all. At any rate, I beg Mr. Audran's 
 pardon. It is not everybody to whom we owe our lives, 
 certainly. Good-night, Angel. I will be a better girl 
 to-morrow." 
 
 At the breakfast-table the following morning, Walter 
 received this telegram from his brother : 
 
 Do not leave Interlaken to-day. I return by train, 
 at i P. M., but start for New York to-morrow. You can 
 stay if you like. Shall hope to see our friends this 
 evening. R. A. 
 
 They were all at table together, including the baron 
 and baroness, and Walter read the despatch aloud. 
 Everybody was interested. To Walter, of course, it 
 was a deep and significant mystery. To the baron, the 
 baroness, and Mrs. Dysart, it brought a certain sense of 
 satisfaction, for each had privately divined that Mr. Au- 
 dran's influence was not quite in harmony with their 
 wishes. Helen was disturbed, and a dreary look lurked 
 in her deep brown eyes. Alice first found words. 
 
 " Oh dear, how provoking ! Mr. Audran was going 
 to take us on all sorts of excursions, and there is nobody 
 who can do it like him. Did n't he say he meant to
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 153 
 
 stay six weeks ? Why does n't he ? Can't you make 
 him, Walter?" 
 
 "Something important must call him back," said 
 Walter, " for we had talked over this trip, and I know 
 how much he wanted to complete it. He will be 
 awfully sorry to go." And the ingenuous youth looked 
 straight at Helen. " But I can't see now that there 
 would be any use in my going with him. I should only 
 have to come back again in September to Heidelberg. 
 Neither do I know what I shall do without him. It 
 will be dreadful to lose him and you all at once, and to 
 wander about alone." 
 
 " Oh, you must n't do that," said Mrs. Dysart. " You 
 must keep along with us. Eugene will be ever so much 
 happier for your company, and so shall we all." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Walter gratefully. " Noth- 
 ing could be more delightful ; but of course I can't 
 decide on anything until I see Robert. Perhaps he 
 may want me to carry on some business here which he 
 has begun. I can't tell till he comes." 
 
 " What time does he get here ? " asked Helen. 
 
 " I believe the Thun boat comes in about half-past 
 four." 
 
 " Is he sure to come by that route ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Dysart. 
 
 " I think so. That is the direct route, and much the 
 quickest. He will come by the boat, I am quite cer- 
 tain." 
 
 " Very well, then," said Mrs. Dysart. " I propose 
 that we go and meet him at Thun, and have the sail up 
 together. We can leave here at one, I believe."
 
 154 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " That is an excellent plan," said the baroness. " It 
 will be a pleasant surprise to Mr. Audran to see you 
 there, and you must not let us detain you." 
 
 " Won't you go too ? " said Mrs. Dysart. 
 
 "Oh no," replied Madame Waldeyer. "We are less 
 acquainted with Mr. Audran, and I think he will prefer 
 to spend his last day with your family only. We can 
 make our adieux this evening." 
 
 " Helen," said Mrs. Dysart, " I have an idea. Mr. 
 Audran has business with your father in New York, 
 and will take letters to him and to Julia ; and as we 
 have but four hours to write, I think I shall go up stairs 
 at once and begin my budget." 
 
 " So will I. Papa and Julia will like to hear all about 
 us, and I want them to know Mr. Audran." 
 
 The explanation of Robert's sudden change of plan 
 was this. On his return from the Furca excursion, he 
 found at Interlaken this letter from his partner in 
 Colorado: 
 
 FOUNTAIN, COL., June 10. 
 
 FRIEND AUDRAN, I guess this letter, which I send 
 to Brown, Shipley, & Co., will find you in Switzerland, 
 and anxious, I dare say, to hear the latest news from 
 the ranch. 
 
 Last week we finished our round up out on Chug's 
 Creek. All the ranchmen within a hundred miles 
 were there, and more than 30,000 head of cattle all 
 told. We branded 2,713 for our share. They look 
 remarkable fine, particularly the yearlings and two-year- 
 olds. Most every cow had a calf by her, fat and smooth
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 155 
 
 as seals, all of 'em. We have had much more rain than 
 usual. Far out on the prairie the gama is thick and 
 green ; there will be a better stand than was ever seen 
 before in this country. The cattle won't have to travel 
 all over creation next winter to get their living ; and I 
 calculate it will be safe to winter the whole lot, unless 
 the market should be uncommon good this fall. I 
 made a find the other day. I was out about ten miles 
 southeast of here, over towards the Chico. There is a 
 slough there. You have seen it, I dare say. I see lots 
 of cattle working in there ; it was kind of curous, and I 
 went speering round for the reason. First off I did n't 
 notice anything particular, but by and by I noticed that 
 the last year's rushes was sort of white round the stalk. 
 So I pulled up some, and found a crust of some sort on 
 the lower joints. I tasted it, and by the Great Horn 
 Spoons, it was salt ! There is a big lot of salt there, 
 just like it is on them salines on the Republican River, 
 in middle Kansas. You better believe I made tracks 
 right off for the Colorado Springs Land Office, and 
 homesteaded a hundred and sixty for you and a hun- 
 dred and sixty for myself; and I made the line run 
 right through the middle of the slough. If we have got 
 a big salt privilege there, it will be as good as a thou- 
 sand more cattle. I reckon you will want to put down 
 some of them drive-wells as soon as you come here. 
 
 I was over to see our next neighbors, the Foxtons. 
 They call their place Maritana now. They are English, 
 you know, and quality people, blamed smart fellows, 
 anyway, and they have got about 2,000 as likely critters
 
 156 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 as ever you did see. Well, they was all worked up 
 about a piece of news from England. It seems they 
 are nephews of a Lord Thornley, who has a great estate 
 and is a very old man, eighty odd, they say. This 
 lord he has a son, to whom all the estate would go, and 
 this son is more than fifty, without family. He had 
 been riding after the hounds, and had been thrown 
 and broke his skull, and was likely not to live, and if 
 he did live would n't be of any count. That fetched in 
 these boys heirs to all the property, houses, lands, 
 title, and everything. If this crack-brained fellow dies, 
 their everlasting fortune is made, and it ain't likely they 
 stay here. They will be in such a hurry to sell out and 
 get off that they will drop their stand and stock for any- 
 thing they can get, first offer. I reckon we can buy 
 it for less than half what it is worth, if we can raise 
 cash. It lies so handy right alongside, you could lead 
 your big ditch round 300 acres of it in a week, and one 
 crop of wheat will pay for it twice over. We certainly 
 can give more for it than anybody else. I am going 
 over again next week, and if things work anyways sud- 
 den, I reckon I had better telegraph you by cable. 
 
 There is another piece of news, may be you '11 
 think it is the biggest of the lot. You know Peedie, up 
 on the Cache-la-Poudre, was elected to Congress last 
 fall. Well, he took pneumonia in May, and it turned 
 to a hasty consumption. They say he can't continue a 
 week. If he dies, like as not the governor will order 
 a new election in this district, and they do say our end 
 of it ought to send the man this time. Barnstead, up
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 157 
 
 to Colorado City, is jealous of the Springs people, and 
 he won't see any one from there put up. Huson, the 
 banker at Pueblo, says you are the best man, and that 
 you will carry all the Arkansas Valley and Huerfano 
 and Wet Mountain, and sweep things generally south of 
 the Divide. The thing is green yet, but there is some- 
 thing in it. You ought to be here right off, if it was a 
 possible thing. I believe this is all, and it is a pretty 
 fair show too. Yours faithfully, 
 
 JOHN D. MAXWELL. 
 
 Robert meditated long and deeply over this letter. 
 He might be imperatively needed at home at any mo- 
 ment. Whatever he had to do in Switzerland must be 
 done at once. He had opened a scheme to the Ameri- 
 can Minister for encouraging emigration to Colorado, 
 and it was needful to see him about it before leaving. 
 He started, accordingly, for Bern, while the party were 
 absent at the Giessbach, leaving word that any telegram 
 which might come should be promptly forwarded there. 
 He had not been an hour on the way when the follow- 
 ing message was flashed back from Interlaken to 
 Bern : 
 
 FOUNTAIN, COL., July 5. 
 
 ROBERT AUDRAN, ESQ., Maritana, all stock, 
 graded and common, horses, house, land, everything. 
 I hold refusal until nth inst., at $22,000, 2,000 down 
 on contract, which I can provide, 10,000 payable at 
 Dysart's, N. Y., July 24, balance on time to suit. 
 Prompt answer required. J. D. MAXWELL.
 
 158 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 Robert found the message at his hotel. He took the 
 night to think over it, paid a visit to the Minister, 
 arranged another interview for next morning, and spent 
 the evening in deep calculation. Before midnight he 
 had reached his conclusions, and written a telegram to 
 be sent early the next morning : 
 
 J. D. MAXWELL, FOUNTAIN, ' COL., U. S. A., Close 
 contract at once. Will be in New York on the 24th, 
 and have the money at Dysart's. ROBERT AUDRAN. 
 
 Robert was early, and at six o'clock in the morning 
 had already despatched his message. Then, in the 
 dewy dawn, he walked back along the terrace to his 
 hotel. 
 
 Swifter than the hours the message sped, and it was 
 still dreaming midnight when the operator thundered at 
 the door of Maxwell's cabin with his answer. 
 
 The second interview with the Minister ended, Rob- 
 ert took the return train at one o'clock. His thoughts 
 now turned to the friends he was so soon to meet and 
 so soon to leave. Walter must remain, in company 
 with the Dysarts, perhaps. How much he would enjoy 
 it ! And how was it with himself ? He had been so en- 
 grossed since the day before as hardly to have thought of 
 Helen. He could forget her, then ? Oh, yes, he could ; 
 and would it not be better he should ? It was certain 
 that this new turn of his affairs must absorb him, and 
 for a long time keep him at a distance from her. If he 
 must leave her, it was well that the call had come thus
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 159 
 
 early and in a form so peremptory ; well that he had not 
 been allowed to linger until it might be more painful 
 and less possible to part. Friends they would always 
 be, whether together or not. He would ask her per- 
 mission to write to her, her promise to answer his letters. 
 This had been a sudden passion on his part. He 
 could not yet fully see how it could have any place in the 
 settled requirements of his life : time only could show. 
 His plans? Yes, even for her sake he must pursue 
 them. If all the promise which opened before him now 
 were realized, fortune, honor, influence would become 
 his to share with her. Then he might offer something 
 which would compare with that which she might give, 
 the grace of her beautiful presence, the tribute of her 
 allegiance, the sweetness of her love and care. If he 
 won her now, the new happiness would bury him in 
 such utter content that there would be no further mo- 
 tive for effort and ambition, and so each would be 
 cheated of the good which should belong to both, and 
 that would be a reproach and a sadness. 
 
 " For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
 The saddest are these, it might have been 1 " 
 
 He was wont to smile when a verse came up from the 
 chambers of memory to brighten or enforce the thought 
 of the moment ; but now his smile perished with a sud- 
 den pang as he remembered that this couplet recorded 
 just such a suppressed and stifled impulse as he was 
 now preparing and proposing to himself ; and a tide of 
 rising apprehensions carried him quick and clear away
 
 160 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 from his elaborately constructed purpose. Did he not 
 risk that which he might never regain ? Was not this 
 his opportunity ? Should he gain all that he hoped, 
 what more was it than dozens of men had to offer ? 
 Would he ever, in the throng amid which he must 
 henceforth look to find her, have so clear, so fair a 
 field ? Had he not saved her life and won a warm 
 response, whose warmth, still glowing, would be chilled 
 and overwhelmed by new events and scenes ? Heart 
 answereth to heart : if he had loved her so much, was 
 she not, perhaps, loving him as well ? And if it were 
 so, or waited but for the word to become so, wQuld it 
 not be cruel, unmanly, selfish, suicidal, stupid, to remand 
 her fresh sympathies to a more convenient season ? 
 No other " more convenient season " ever came to King 
 Agrippa; and for the petty cares of his little Syrian 
 kingdom he deferred, and lost, his soul's salvation ! 
 
 If she loved him at all, it was for what he was, not 
 for what he had. All the place and pelf he looked to 
 win would count but little in her eyes compared with 
 the strength of his desire for her. How could he expect 
 her to trust a nature capable of thus barring the gates 
 of a worldly prudence over its truest emotions ? Could 
 he trust himself ? Would love, thus stifled, slighted, 
 put away, ever warm his own soul again if he should be- 
 come immersed in cares and cattle and the bitter waters 
 of the flat prairie, and the chicanery of politics, pre- 
 ferring them to the fresh feeling of a reviving soul ? 
 Would not his heart die out in him, hers, perhaps, in 
 her?
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. l6l 
 
 " From pride we both may borrow, 
 
 To part we both may dare ; 
 But the heart-death of to-morrow 
 Nor you nor I can bear ! " 
 
 The whistle of the train as it ran alongside the dock 
 roused him from his reverie. He grasped his satchel 
 and went on board the boat, calm enough in manner, 
 but very disturbed and irresolute at heart. 
 
 Walter met him at the gangway with impatient greet- 
 ing. " Is there bad news, Robert ? " 
 
 " No, boy, the news is not bad, perhaps very good, 
 but important to my affairs in Colorado. We are 
 going to double our investment by buying another prop- 
 erty. The opportunity is sudden, accidental, and too 
 good to be lost. I must go and pick it up. How are 
 you all ? " 
 
 " Oh, we are all right, and all here. The ladies are 
 up stairs, and waiting to see you. Come on ! " 
 
 " This is very kind of you," said he, as he advanced 
 to meet them. His voice faltered as he saw Helen 
 standing a little behind her mother, with face rose-flushed, 
 and eyes which seemed to lighten with something of the 
 feeling which trembled in his own. 
 
 "We count your minutes, now, Mr. Audran," said 
 Mrs. Dysart, " if indeed you must go to-morrow." 
 
 " I regret to say that I must. This is the 7th, and 
 I must catch the steamer of the i2th from Liverpool. 
 Except for the desire of seeing you all again, I should 
 have gone direct from Bern. It is a very sudden in- 
 terruption of the leisure and pleasure which I had prom- 
 ised myself, but it seems inevitable." 
 
 11
 
 1 62 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " You will leave us your brother, then, I hope. We 
 will take good care of him. He belongs to us now, 
 and has made his welcome secure for himself, and doubly 
 so as a representative of you." 
 
 "You relieve me of a great care, Mrs. Dysart, and 
 remind me how fortunate we have been in meeting you. 
 I could not leave him in company more acceptable to 
 both of us. He at least can remain with you until 
 you shall go to St. Moritz, and I trust he will behave 
 himself properly. Walter, will you obey Mrs. Dysart? 
 Will you be very polite to Miss Dysart, very respectful 
 to Miss Carroll, and get Eugene into no mischief ? " 
 
 " Such is my desire," answered Walter demurely. 
 
 " We will all be mothers to him," said Alice. " Mrs. 
 Dysart shall encourage him, Helen shall advise him, 
 and I will correct him, as occasion requires. ' Spare 
 the rod and spoil the child ' has been my creed these 
 many years." 
 
 " And do you think you can bring me up to suit you, 
 Alice ? " said Walter. 
 
 " Bring you up ? " said Alice, looking over the tall 
 boy ; " I think I '11 take you down ! " 
 
 " Oh, thanks ! If you '11 take me, I '11 go down di- 
 rectly." 
 
 " Don't, Alice ! " said Helen. " Mr. Audran will re- 
 pent his kindness and send Walter away." 
 
 " He had better let Walter repent, and stay. I only 
 wish that Mr. Audran shall understand how faithful I 
 mean to be to my young charge." 
 
 " Oh, be faithful, do ! " said Walter.
 
 MR. MAXWELL INTERFERES. 163 
 
 Robert asked Helen about her arm, and she told him 
 that, except for a slight swelling, and some stiffness 
 when she used it, it was nearly well again. 
 
 They were passing Spitz just then, and Robert pointed 
 out to Helen the valley of the Kander. "When you 
 shall leave Interlaken," he said, "if you wish to go 
 either to Zermatt or Geneva, you will do well to go 
 by that route across the Gemmi to Leuk " ; and from 
 Leuk onward he led her willing fancy here and there 
 over Switzerland, and across the ocean to New York, 
 and out into the wilds of Colorado, with a grace at 
 once so airy and so real that Helen was spell-bound. 
 She made an effort to resume control of herself and 
 him. 
 
 " You have never met my sister Julia, Mr. Audran 
 and I am going to ask you to go and see her in New 
 York. We have some letters for her and my father, if 
 you will take them, and we hope they may be able to ac- 
 knowledge in some way your great kindness and help- 
 fulness to us. My sister knows you already by descrip- 
 tion, and will be very glad to see you." 
 
 " I shall go, certainly," said Robert. " I could not 
 lose such an opportunity to prolong my relation to you 
 all ; but won't it be embarrassing to be investigated 
 by catalogue ? How do I know what you may have 
 said of me ? " 
 
 " I shall be truly sorry to have you go," said Helen. 
 " Now that I am so strangely introduced to a new chap- 
 ter of life, which means, perhaps, some interruption of 
 the old, it would be a great help to feel your interest,
 
 164 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 and perhaps to be able to ask your counsel. Why, here 
 we are at the dock." 
 
 On the drive from Neuhaus, Mrs. Dysart told Robert 
 how the baroness had entertained them the day before, 
 and added, "We want your last evening here to be a 
 pleasant one, so I have asked her and the baron to 
 dine with us at seven." 
 
 Robert bowed assent, thinking at the same time that 
 the plan did not particularly commend itself to him ; 
 while Helen saw in it, very plainly, her mother's jeal- 
 ousy of Mr. Audran's influence, and her wish to prevent 
 an opportunity for its exercise. " We shall sit at table," 
 thought she, "until nine, and in the parlors until ten, 
 and there will be no chance for a quiet talk." However, 
 it would be hard to talk without saying either too much 
 or too little. Yet how should she make the evening 
 memorable to him as she hoped it might be ? 
 
 " I will dress for him," said she to herself.
 
 ONE EVENING. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ONE EVENING. 
 
 A SIMILAR impulse seemed to pervade the en- 
 ** tire party ; and the salons of the Bellevue had 
 seldom seen so elegant a little party as now gathered at 
 Mrs. Dysart's invitation. With the elder ladies, it was 
 but a change from one black dress to another of 
 richer tissue and ornamentation ; but Alice was re- 
 splendent in blue silk, with Valenciennes overdress, 
 and fluttering ends and knots of pale blue ; and Helen 
 wore a gown in shade like still champagne, one of 
 Worth's marvels, with a square corsage, and half- 
 sleeves and train richly trimmed with lace, with orna- 
 ments of pale pink coral, and a rose of like hue on 
 either side of her graceful head. The baroness was 
 fairly enraptured with her. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart occupied the head of the table, with Rob- 
 ert on her right, and the baroness on her left. Helen 
 sat next to Mr. Audran, and vis-a-vis with the baron ; 
 Walter with Alice, and Eugene at the foot. The menu 
 and the wines were the best which the hotel could 
 afford. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart knew perfectly well how to manage her 
 guests, and she drew the baroness and Robert into con-
 
 1 66 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 versation upon New Mexico and Colorado. The bar- 
 oness was gentle, serene, piquant, and singularly hand- 
 some. Robert, who saw the daughter in the mother, 
 could not help being very much attracted by her. The 
 baron, meantime, was giving Helen a graphic sketch of 
 Maximilian's ill-starred attempt at an empire, and of 
 the history of the Empress Carlotta, whom he had 
 escorted on her return to Belgium. 
 
 The young people at the other end of the table were 
 intent upon a programme of their own, as presently ap- 
 peared. When the cloth was removed, Eugene rose* 
 moved back his chair, and, in the style of the after- 
 dinner orator, began, Alice rapping attention on the 
 table : 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, It is known to you that 
 we have with us this evening, probably for the last time, 
 our friend, Mr. Robert Audran. To our great good for- 
 tune, he came to us on the day of our arrival in Switzer- 
 land, and ever since has been the chief promoter of our 
 pleasure and profit. He organized for most of us a very 
 satisfactory pilgrimage, made such by his experience 
 in travel, his interesting conversation, and his care for 
 all our wants. One of our party owes to him her rescue 
 from the most frightful danger, and her relief from very 
 serious injury ; and none of us will ever forget from how 
 great a sorrow his forethought and skill saved us. We 
 had congratulated ourselves that he would remain with 
 us, to guide us through many pleasant scenes in this 
 lovely land ; but he has received a call which he cannot 
 disregard,
 
 ONE EVENING. 1 67 
 
 ' He sees a hand we cannot see, 
 Which beckons him away.' 
 
 " As the representative of my mother's family, I have 
 thought it proper here to tender to him our warmest 
 thanks for the past, and our warmest wishes for the 
 safety and success of his impending journey." 
 
 The beginning of this unexpected speech was received 
 with the utmost surprise by the seniors at the other end 
 of the table, and the boy had a very attentive audience. 
 When he sat down his resolute clacque at the end of the 
 table applauded tumultuously, and were joined with 
 right good-will by all the others. Mrs. Dysart was 
 pleased with her boy; and Alice, who had planned it, 
 was triumphant. 
 
 After dinner, Alice was asked to sing. She preluded 
 vaguely for a moment, while taxing her memory for a 
 song ; and then, in a very pure and sympathetic voice, 
 began : 
 
 " I shot an arrow into the air ; 
 It fell to earth, I knew not where. 
 For so swiftly it flew, the sight 
 Could not follow it in its flight. 
 
 " I breathed a song ihto the air ; 
 It fell to earth, I knew not where. 
 For who has sight so keen and strong 
 That it can follow the flight of song ? 
 
 " Long, long afterward, in an oak, 
 I found the arrow, still unbroke. 
 And the song that I sang, from beginning to end 
 I found it again in the heart of a friend."
 
 1 68 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 She rose, and would sing no more. The party had 
 risen, and Helen was asked for a song, which, because 
 her arm was not strong enough to play the accompani- 
 ment, she could not give ; then all united in urging the 
 baroness, who, with remarkable feeling and effect, sang 
 Beranger's " Les Etoiles qui filent " ; and as the refrain 
 of each verse " qui file, et file, et disparait " died 
 away, the sense of separation and of solitude and of the 
 mutability of all human conditions became so general 
 that the party made haste to separate. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart said to Robert, " Shall we see you in the 
 morning ? " 
 
 " No, madame, I shall be gone before the breakfast 
 hour, and must take my leave to-night." 
 
 " Adieu, then," said the baroness, giving Robert her 
 hand. " The baron and myself ought not to trespass 
 upon the little time you have to give to these friends. I 
 feel, Mr. Audran, that we shall meet somewhere again, 
 and become better known to each other." 
 
 The baron added, " Should you be in France, Major 
 Audran, you can always hear of me at the Ministry of 
 War. Adieu, et ban voyage /" 
 
 " We shall learn all about you from your brother, I 
 hope," said Mrs. Dysart, " and next winter shall hope to 
 see you in Fifty-seventh Street. You will have occasion 
 to see Mr. Dysart on business, you say. He and my 
 daughter are probably now at Glenwood. Won't you 
 manage to go up and see them there ? Julia will have 
 a thousand questions to ask. We will send our let- 
 ters to your room to-night. Mine are not finished,
 
 ONE EVENING. 169 
 
 and I think I must go to them. How is it with yours, 
 Helen ? " 
 
 " Mine are done, mamma. I have not written much, 
 because I want to tell Mr. Audran ever so many things 
 to say to Julia for me. Will you still give me a little 
 time, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dysart had hoped to carry Helen away with her ; 
 but she had only rendered it necessary for herself to 
 go, a fact which the quick-witted Alice at once per- 
 ceived, as she made up to Robert with her parting 
 salutations. 
 
 " Mr. Audran, I have not had the chance to tell 
 you how sorry I am you are going. I never enjoyed 
 anything so much in my life as our excursion to the 
 Furca ; and I hoped it was only the prelude to other good 
 things to come. I feel particularly bereaved, because you 
 will see all the Dysarts whenever you are in New York, 
 but you will never come to New Brunswick, and I shall 
 never see you again. It is too bad ! Oh dear, why can't 
 you stay ? Well, then, good-by, if good-by it must be. 
 I shall make much of Walter, for lack of you. Good- 
 by ! " and she sailed away under Mrs. Dysart's convoy, 
 and Helen and Robert only were left together. 
 
 Each would have been very much disappointed if it had 
 not been so ; and yet each was a little shy of the other. 
 
 Helen began the conversation : 
 
 " Mr. Audran, won't you tell me what you are going 
 to do, what peremptory business it is that calls you 
 home ? I want to know all about it. You know I cannot 
 be indifferent to anything that happens to you." '
 
 1 70 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Miss Dysart ! That is the very best 
 solace I could have in going away from you all. I should 
 like to give you the fullest account of my plans, if I 
 might. The idea of being followed by your interest 
 would always be a help, a hope, and a restraint to 
 me." 
 
 " But I don't want t6 be a restraint, a hindrance, a 
 marplot ! " 
 
 " Yes, you do, from whatever is hard or ungentle, or 
 coarse or cunning. There are thousands of ways, ap- 
 proved of men, from which woman's purer conscience and 
 finer sense recoil. It is from such that your memory, 
 next to your presence, will keep me." 
 
 " Well, I want quite as much from you. There are 
 thousands of ways into which women are forced, which 
 are vain, poor, paltry ! The good we do is so overlaid 
 with frippery and ostentation, we are so flattered and 
 fettered and silenced, and so misunderstood and con- 
 demned if we break away from conventions, that it is 
 no wonder we appeal to broader views and more can- 
 did, more intelligent judgment, when we find them. May 
 I begin now with what I want to tell you about the 
 baroness ? " 
 
 " Pray do," said Robert. " I have been speculating 
 not a little about it." 
 
 " Well, then, she is not a common woman, as I need 
 hardly say. Her features and her expression are evi- 
 dence of that. A vicious or shallow life of fifty years 
 will leave traces on expression and manner ; but she is 
 as fresh, as full of enthusiasm and sentiment, as a girl ;
 
 ONE EVENING. 1 71 
 
 and her thoughts range over wide areas, and strike down 
 to the roots of things. You may think it strange that I 
 should say so ; but I am sure they are governed by a con- 
 science, peculiar, perhaps, but controlling. And though 
 she is a thorough woman in her nature, she is a man in 
 her methods. She left my father because, unreasonable 
 in her demands upon him, she felt injured by what she 
 fancied to be neglect and unkindness. Her mind was 
 doubtless also disturbed by physical disease. It was an 
 awful wrong, but I do not think she was fully responsible 
 for it ; and now it is her great wish to undo this error, 
 so far as is possible, and to solace her punishment of 
 isolation by attaching me to herself. 
 
 For my own part, in some reviews of the matter, I 
 have wished that I had never met her. I was content 
 with the friends I had ; and they were content with me. 
 But now it is not quite so. Mrs. Dysart has been to me 
 all that a mother should be ; and it is not to be won- 
 dered at if she sees some aspects of the affair in which 
 my adhesion to the baroness would benefit her own 
 children. Moreover, she is not at ease in repelling her ; 
 for both she and my father are in her power. If she 
 chooses to do so, she can poison their lives with a 
 grievous scandal, and, if provoked to reprisals, she 
 might impoverish the family as well. I cannot tell you 
 with what sadness I see the ties which have bound me 
 to my family relaxing and dissolving. I have the for- 
 lorn feeling of being somehow an interloper where I 
 have always been first in privilege and first in influence. 
 
 What shall I do, Mr. Audran ? My parents loosen
 
 172 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 the moorings of my life, the baroness pulls me out into 
 the stream. I cannot force them to give me the first 
 place in their hearts, and I am not yet ready to give to 
 any others the first place in mine. With all the excuse 
 which we may find for the baroness's error, the stigma 
 of sin and shame remains with her; and if I openly 
 condone it, I take some shadow of that stain upon my- 
 self. I must inculpate my father, whom I have always 
 revered, if I accept her defence of her course toward 
 him. I have no desire to leave my old life, to give up 
 whatever I have gathered, and become at home in. to 
 try new methods and a new country; and yet I do love 
 the baroness, there are so many things about her 
 which are congenial to me; and there is no telling 
 how great the influence of such a desire as hers may 
 have upon its object. Indeed, it seems as though her 
 motherly feeling, repressed for nearly thirty years, had 
 been accumulating all that time, so intense and un- 
 compromising is it now, when it first finds opportunity 
 for expression." 
 
 " What does your father say, Helen ? " asked Robert. 
 
 " He says and there is certainly force in it that 
 the logic of events is against her ; that her claim on my 
 life, however much it might have affected my earlier 
 years, cannot now control them ; and that, although 
 blinded by the eagerness of her purpose she expects 
 or hopes to realize a great-deal from it, yet she can have 
 no more of me than she earns, so to speak, and what 
 she earns I shall readily give, and that by and by she 
 will see this, which now her vehement nature overlooks ;
 
 ONE EVENING. 1/3 
 
 that, if soothed by compliance, she will become reasona- 
 ble and tractable, and will yield to the force of circum- 
 stances ; but that, if thwarted and roused, she may be 
 able to make us all very unhappy, and set us and herself 
 wrong with the world." 
 
 "And what does this temporary compliance involve?" 
 said Robert. 
 
 " That I cannot tell as yet," she answered. " Probably 
 I should do as she wishes for a while, until she finds how 
 far my interests suit with hers, and when they conflict 
 there will be no conflict, father thinks^ if she is really 
 attached to me ; and, if she is not, then the force of her 
 claim will be broken, and it can be resisted. My father 
 will not see me sacrificed to her, if it comes to that. And, 
 for me, it comes to this : Mrs. Dysart has been all that a 
 mother need be to me, from my cradle. If it is in my 
 power to avert from her and her children a scandal, 
 the scandal that she is not my father's wife, and that her 
 marriage to a man whose former wife was living, un- 
 divorced, is not legal ; if her children are" thus wronged, 
 and their fortune imperilled because of me, and I can 
 avert both scandal and peril, and my father bids me do 
 it, then I must do it. I should be an unfilial ingrate if 
 I did not." 
 
 " Well," said Robert, " don't you see what the baroness 
 is preparing for you ? It is clear enough to my eyes. 
 She will fix you in her sphere forever, if she can, by mar- 
 rying you to the baron." 
 
 Helen smiled. " Will-he, nil-he, will-I, nil-I, with- 
 out giving either of us a choice in that matter ? "
 
 174 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " You, at least, shall have another choice Helen ! 
 there is no other way for me. I did not mean to 
 ask this of you now. My regard for you is so great 
 that I would not have you decide the most impor- 
 tant question of life upon any insufficient knowledge. 
 If I have ever allowed myself to dream that you 
 might sometime incline to me with the whole breadth 
 of your understanding and the whole force of that 
 wonderful soul, it was a vision so sweet, so flatter- 
 ing, that I would not risk any premature attempt to 
 realize it. 
 
 " I am inextricably entangled in a life which I scarcely 
 dare ask that you will share. My fortune, my success, 
 is in the future, and therefore uncertain. I have neither 
 name nor place nor leisure nor pleasure to offer you ; 
 and I was going away, hoping only that I might have 
 left upon your nature a trace something like as broad 
 and deep as that which you have left on mine. If that 
 were so, then, despite our separation, fancy and sym- 
 pathy would grow into confidence, and consent would 
 become covenant. 
 
 " But now you are in extremity. The life you were 
 content to lead closes upon you ; a life which, it may 
 be you shrink from, compels you. I cannot leave the 
 woman who is more to me than any other woman ever 
 was, to float, to wander, to be driven by the will of 
 others, if she will risk my faith and my fortune. Dear, 
 delightful Helen, what say you ? " 
 
 He was standing before her chair, had taken her un- 
 resisting hand, and was gazing down on her. And still
 
 ONE EVENING. 
 
 she sat with drooping head. He waited for a response ; 
 it did not come. 
 
 " Have you no answer for me, Helen ? " 
 
 She tightened her grasp upon his hand as she lifted 
 up her clear brown eyes, full of grace and truth. " Yes," 
 said she, " I have an answer, if I can ever find the right 
 words for it. There are some things I do know, Mr. 
 Audran, and there are some things I don't know. I 
 know that I am, as I ought to be, most proud and happy 
 to hear these words from you. They are the most living 
 words of life to me, for they tell me of the place I have 
 in the thoughts of the man whom I like better than I 
 like any other man. I do know that if, against your 
 purpose and against your judgment, these words have 
 been forced from you now, if you have sacrificed the 
 convictions with which you came here this evening, 
 it is for my sake : you give them up to stand between 
 me and doubt and sorrow and chagrin. I take it for 
 the best proof which the time could offer of your faith 
 in me, and the best assurance that the regard which I 
 have given and shall always give to you has been most 
 worthily placed. I am better pleased with you than 
 ever I was before, and that was not necessary." A 
 tear trembled in her eyes as she said it. 
 
 " Now you know what I think of you, and are pre- 
 pared to hear me say that I cannot take your pledge, 
 and I cannot give you mine. 
 
 " The reasons which you give for the conclusions 
 which you have reached were good. You have said 
 that you wanted me to choose you, if at all, with the
 
 176 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 whole breadth of my understanding and the whole force 
 of my feeling. And I do not want less. If you should 
 ever be my husband, and I should need your compas- 
 sion and protection, I know I should have them ; but 
 you must not offer to marry me to save me, at least, not 
 from the ordinary trials of life. You have said that 
 your undertaking is large, uncertain, anxious, and ought 
 to have your undistracted thought. Whatever you want 
 for yourself, I want for you, and I will not have you 
 fettered and compromised now. These are the reasons 
 why I will not take your pledge. And the reason why 
 I cannot give you mine is that I never mean to marry 
 any man until I am quite sure in my own mind that I 
 can make him happy and that he can make me so. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I have thought a great deal about it, sir ; 
 and I have waited a long time for such a man. Sup- 
 posing that he has at length come along, found me, and 
 sought me, he never would believe I had been coy all 
 my days if I could be had for the first asking, on a 
 week's acquaintance. The very reason which has made 
 you speak what you did not mean to say is a reason why 
 I should appeal from Philip excited to Philip sedate. 
 
 " I am in difficulty. There are ties of blood, of nur- 
 ture, of obligation, there are anxieties, fears, and 
 hopes, which centre around me, and I must get my 
 bearings toward them. I must not pledge myself now, 
 if by so doing I impose difficulties upon others. I can- 
 not take myself out of the field and leave them involved. 
 However difficult and precarious the adjustment may be, 
 I am sure it cannot well be made without me. I must
 
 ONE EVENING. 1 77 
 
 not evade or desert the issue of which I am the cause. 
 If I did, and ill should come of it, with what face could 
 I return to my father's house, or how present there a 
 man who had led me to desert it when most it needed 
 my help ? 
 
 " No ; home shall not be clouded or compromised by 
 act of mine, or for my sake ; nor will I carry a cloud 
 into any man's house. These are the reasons why I 
 cannot give you my pledge. So, Robert, go away now. 
 We are both free. Time will show whether there is to 
 be any other tie between us than those of friendship 
 and esteem." She rose as she spoke, and took his two 
 hands in hers. " Do not think I can ever forget how 
 these two hands once lifted me out of the abyss of a 
 horrible death, and have to-night been stretched out to 
 shield me from all that may annoy and trouble. Brave 
 hands, kind hands, clean hands! " And she lifted them 
 to her lips and kissed them. 
 
 It was the impulse of an instant, and the arms which 
 she had dropped were just ready to close around her 
 shoulders, when her own white palm was pressed firmly 
 against Robert's chest. 
 
 " No, no ! " said she. " Mr. Audran forgets himself 
 he forgets what I have said, and I must go from him " ; 
 and her look of fond reproach staggered and stayed 
 him. 
 
 " Don't go, Helen ! " he said huskily. " You are so 
 pitilessly sweet ! " He closed his repulsed hands over 
 his burning eyes a moment, then, dropping them, he 
 added, " I had forgotten myself ; but you don't know 
 
 12
 
 1/8 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 how hard it is to stand face to face and hand in hand 
 with you, and not to kiss you, and not to make you my 
 own, for one moment at least. I am tired of the strug- 
 gle, Helen, I am tired of my self-control, I am tired 
 of yours ! " 
 
 "Then I certainly shall go," said she, "and you cer- 
 tainly will not hinder. But you are not tired, Robert, 
 and I am not afraid of this untimely fondness. You 
 know how to keep your esteem for me and for yourself 
 clear of the spell of a passing emotion. When you have 
 cleared your face and made your voice smooth you may 
 kiss my hands, too, and say good-by; and you may 
 come again, as soon and as often as you like." 
 
 " May I write to you, Helen ? " 
 
 "Certainly," said she ; "you cannot tell me about your 
 plans to-night, and I must know what they are and how 
 they prosper." 
 
 "Well, then, Helen, good-by, good-by! You have 
 done with me just what you would." 
 
 He kissed her hands with a long kiss, and once again 
 and again as they parted at the door. 
 
 He went to his room and she to hers. As she let 
 down her soft and rippling hair, she murmured with 
 Thekla, 
 
 " Du Heilige, ruf e dein Kind zuriick ! 
 Ich habe genossen das irdische Gliick, 
 Ich habe gelebt und geliebet 1 "
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 
 
 the morning of the 8th of July Mr. Audran 
 left Interlaken ; on the morning of the 9th he 
 was picking his way along the Rue Vivienne toward the 
 shop of a famous Parisian lapidary, to whom he exhib- 
 ited a certain oval pebble. 
 
 The man ground a facet on one end, and said, " This 
 is some kind of close-grained flint. It will bear a high 
 polish, but may flaw in working. It has no commercial 
 value, but is curious, nevertheless, for it is divided length- 
 wise through the middle by a layer of very pure white, 
 of the same grain and about five millimetres thick." 
 
 " I should like to see it," said Robert. 
 
 "You can return, then, in an hour; I will cut it 
 through in that time." 
 
 When Robert came back the stone lay in halves, 
 one elliptical surface black, the other snow-white, and 
 both as smooth as glass. Robert made a little sketch 
 of an ornament and gave it to the man, with Walter's 
 address, in care of the American consul at Geneva. 
 
 On the evening of the nth he was on board the 
 White Star steamer at Liverpool, and on the evening of 
 the zist at the Hoffman House in New York.
 
 180 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 When Mr. Dysart entered his office the next morning 
 he found a package of letters on his desk and Mr. R. Au- 
 dran's card, announcing that he would call at any hour 
 Mr. Dysart might appoint. Mr. Dysart immediately tele- 
 graphed an invitation to dine with him at Delmonico's 
 at 3 P. M., and accompany him to Glenwood for the 
 night, after which he sent one of his clerks up the river 
 with the letters which Mr. Audran had brought, and a 
 note to Julia, informing her that he should bring Robert 
 with him. 
 
 At three o'clock they met. " Mr. Audran," said the 
 host, as he unfolded his napkin, " it vras a very great 
 surprise to me to get your card this morning. It is only 
 three or four days since the arrival of our last letters, in 
 which we were told that you were about starting on some 
 excursion from Lucerne, and here you are ! I hope 
 no unpleasant occurrence has brought you home." 
 
 Robert did not answer for a moment. He was look- 
 ing for a likeness between the father and his daughter. 
 Mr. Dysart was tall, very erect, of large frame, some- 
 what spare. His fresh face was cleanly shaven except 
 for a long white mustache, and his deep-set black eyes 
 were shaded by very black eyebrows. He was fault- 
 lessly dressed, as a man of thirty-five might dress ; and 
 indeed it would have been difficult for a stranger to de- 
 cide whether he were an old man at forty or a very young 
 man at sixty. 
 
 " No," said Robert, " it was a favorable opening in 
 my own affairs that brought me home. My partner and 
 I are going to buy more property and make payment on
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. l8l 
 
 the 24th, through your house. I assure you I was very 
 sorry to leave Switzerland so abruptly as I did j but the 
 matter developed suddenly, and my partner telegraphed 
 me to be in New York to make this settlement of the 
 24th." 
 
 "I am very glad that you met Mrs. Dysart and Helen 
 and Eugene. They say that you saved Helen from 
 a very great danger, some breaking of a bridge, 
 was it?" 
 
 " Not exactly," said Robert. " Miss Dysart had sepa- 
 rated from the. rest of the party and ventured upon a 
 timber which overhung a deep and rocky basin. A log 
 was thrown from above over the fall, and struck and 
 dislodged that on which Miss Dysart was standing. I 
 happened to reach her in time to lift her off before she 
 fell with it. She suffered no injury beyond a disloca- 
 tion of the left shoulder, which was reduced on the 
 spot, and had nearly ceased to trouble her when I left." 
 
 " And it is now a fortnight since you left? " said Mr. 
 Dysart. 
 
 " Yes ; I left on the 8th. It was two weeks last 
 evening since Mrs. Dysart gave us a dinner on the eve 
 of my departure." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Dysart, "she wrote about that din- 
 ner. Eugene was master of ceremonies, I believe. I 
 must hear more about it, and so must Julia. But here 
 comes our soup. We will, if you please, keep your story 
 for the evening at Glenwood ; and now tell me if I can 
 serve you in this business of yours." 
 
 "Yes," said Robert, "I think you may. I have to
 
 1 82 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 raise ten thousand dollars, and the collateral which I 
 offer is the railroad bonds which we discussed when I 
 was here some weeks since. I have enough of those, 
 probably, fifteen. Shall I have any trouble in effect- 
 ing a loan ? " 
 
 " Give yourself no concern about it, my dear sir. We 
 shall be very ready to hold your collateral ; but if you 
 will take a line from me to the Trust Company, they 
 will give you money at a lower rate. The thing can be 
 done in fifteen minutes, and you will only have to draw 
 upon them for the amount." 
 
 " I am greatly indebted to you," said Robert. 
 
 " Don't mention it. I am going to ask a favor of 
 you in my turn. You remember those mining men 
 about whom you cautioned me, Mohler and David. 
 Your caution was very just ; I wish I might have had 
 it before I committed myself to them. They are giving 
 me trouble, and I want to get, through you, some more 
 information about them and their operations." 
 
 The matter which Mr. Dysart thus mentioned requires 
 a brief explanation. About a year before the date of 
 our story, two miners, by name Mohler and David, had 
 found a very promising lode of galena, having large 
 quantities of silver, in the mountains near Mr. Audran's 
 ranch. To the development of it they gave months of 
 labor and a very considerable amount of money, all 
 that they could command ; and they had prospered to 
 such a degree that their mine was clearly shown to be 
 one capable of being worked to fair profit by the aid of 
 large capital, but which, managed jn a smaller way, would
 
 A CHANGE OF SCEXE. 183 
 
 hardly pay. There was, however, a strong prospect of 
 soon reaching a body of much richer ore if they could 
 obtain means to continue the work. They had therefore 
 employed some experts, who were at the time investigat- 
 ing other mines in the interest of New York capitalists, 
 to examine and report upon this. The opinion of the 
 experts confirmed their hopes, and the outline and ma- 
 terials for a detailed report, to be made up when the 
 surveyors should return to New York, were obtained. 
 Provided with these notes, and specimens, maps, and 
 plans of the mine, Mohler had gone to New York to 
 secure the necessary money. He had been directed 
 to Mr. Dysart, as a banker whose knowledge of mining 
 would prepare him to deal intelligently with the matter. 
 Mr. Dysart had at first refused to take any interest in 
 the affair, but being prevailed upon to read the notes of 
 the engineers, was so far impressed by them as to call 
 upon them at their New York office, and from their 
 statements in detail had become convinced that there 
 was good promise of profit in the mine. The miners 
 were so intent on going on with their work that they 
 offered Mr. Dysart a controlling interest in the property 
 for a sum considerably less than they themselves had 
 already expended. It was a very speculative operation 
 for Mr. Dysart, and the terms were by no means excep- 
 tionally hard upon the miners. They had delivered the 
 maps and plans, the records of location, and the articles 
 of agreement, and had received an advance of money, 
 and Mohler was about to leave New York to return to 
 Colorado, when he happened to meet Mr. Audran, then
 
 184 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 just starting for Europe, and had referred Mr. Dysart 
 to him as one acquainted with the country and them- 
 selves. 
 
 Robert had confirmed many points of their story, and 
 given Mr. Dysart much valuable information ; but had 
 felt obliged to state that, though he knew nothing against 
 Mohler and David, he had been prejudiced against 
 them because they had taken into their employ and, as 
 reported, had associated with themselves in business a 
 man whom Robert had driven off from his own place as 
 a thorough rascal. 
 
 This man Jim Dunphy was a native of New York, 
 a wharf-rat as a boy, a bounty-jumper during the war ; 
 and, when New York had become too hot to hold him, 
 had gone to the mining regions of the West, working 
 sometimes in the gulches, but generally hanging about 
 the temporary termini of advancing railroads. The vigi- 
 lance committees of Kearney, Julesburg, and Cheyenne 
 knew Jim Dunphy well. He had been one of the ter- 
 rors of Denver and Black Hawk ; and when driven away 
 in turn from each, had worked his way down to Mr. 
 Audran's ranch, and plundered his simple herdmen at 
 cards. Robert had found him out, compelled him to 
 restore his plunder and to quit the neighborhood. He 
 went off vowing vengeance, and when next heard from, 
 it was as employed by and interested with Mohler and 
 David in their mine. Like master, like man, Robert 
 fancied ; so he warned Mr. Dysart not to trust too 
 much to the honesty of Mohler and David. 
 
 During Robert's absence, with the aid of Mr. Dysart's
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 185 
 
 capital, the miners had reached the expected deposit of 
 rich ore, and now bitterly repented of their contract to 
 deliver to Mr. Dysart the larger part of that which now 
 appeared to them a veritable bonanza. How to get out 
 of this obligation was the theme of endless scheming. 
 They began by attempting to weary and disgust Mr. 
 Dysart with his venture by sending frequent reports of 
 difficulties and disappointments. They learned that the 
 deeds of sale had not as yet been received for record 
 in the office of the clerk of El Paso County ; and just 
 before Robert's return to New York, they had sent 
 their associate, Dunphy, to New York to carry out this 
 programme. He was to give Mr. Dysart a discouraging 
 report of the work, to tempt him with the offer of the 
 return of a portion of his money, and cautiously to raise 
 this bid until convinced that no compromise was possi- 
 ble and the deeds would not be restored. In this event, 
 Dunphy said, he would be, well forever wretched if 
 he did n't have 'em anyhow. 
 
 He had learned that Robert was to buy the Maritana 
 estate, and to that end would be at Mr. Dysart's office 
 on the 24th of July. He reasoned that, as Robert lived 
 so near and was so able a man, Mr. Dysart would natu- 
 rally wish to gather information from or through him, 
 and perhaps to constitute him his agent or representa- 
 tive. 
 
 Dunphy arrived in New York on the same day with 
 Robert, and Mr. Dysart received a call from him shortly 
 before he went out to keep his appointment for dinner. 
 The result of the interview was to impress upon the
 
 1 86 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 banker that the miner was a sharper, and upon the 
 miner that the banker was not a flat. Mr. Dysart de- 
 clined to take any immediate action, and closed the 
 conference with the remark, " I am going now to dine 
 with a gentleman from Colorado who knows something 
 of this property. I will see what he has to say, and 
 you may call again day after to-morrow." 
 
 The prospect was not an encouraging one, but Dun- 
 phy determined to know whatever could be found out of 
 the conference between Messrs. Dysart and Audran. 
 He kept watch on the banker's movements, and saw him 
 receive Robert at Delmonico's. Assuming that dinner 
 would require at least an hour, he returned at the end 
 of that time, and took his position near the door from 
 which they must issue to reach their carriage, and he 
 heard Mr. Dysart say, "We shall miss the train if 
 I go back for those papers now ; but if you will come 
 up again to-morrow night we will look them over to- 
 gether." 
 
 " Exactly," said Mr. Dunphy to himself ; " that is, if 
 you don't happen to lose them before you get there. 
 I reckon I 'd better see how things are fixed all round." 
 
 He hastened after the retreating carriage until he 
 spied a vacant cab, into which he jumped, and, bidding 
 the driver keep a little behind, followed to the station. 
 He entered a car behind theirs, buying a ticket for 
 Tarrytown, the train happening to be a Tarry town 
 special. 
 
 When the train stopped at Glenwood station, Mr. Dy- 
 sart recognized his carriage, and his daughter in it. He
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 1 87 
 
 presented Robert to Julia, a tall and brilliant bru- 
 nette, five or six years younger than her sister, and very 
 handsomely dressed in black silk, with a white carriage- 
 cloak and parasol, and a white-plumed hat. 
 
 " I knew Julia would be so impatient to get the news 
 that I sent all the letters up to her this morning," he 
 explained. " Most of them were for her, in fact. I had 
 only a long one from my wife and a short one from 
 Helen." 
 
 " Oh," cried Julia, " I had one from everybody, 
 mamma, Helen, Eugene, and Alice Carroll. Papa sent 
 all six out to me. I got them at twelve, and, as you 
 may imagine, have had a very exciting afternoon. It is 
 very kind of you, Mr. Audran, to come up and tell us all 
 about them. You will, won't you ? " 
 
 " Julia, I want Mr. Audran to stay with us while he is 
 in town. You must do your best to persuade him. How 
 long do you remain, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 " I shall have business at your banking-house on the 
 24th, day after to-morrow ; and so soon as that is done 
 I must leave for Colorado." 
 
 " Then you will have only to-morrow to give us," said 
 Julia. " What a pity ! " 
 
 " Hardly that, even," said Robert, " for I must go to 
 New Haven to-morrow, and, as I said, if I can finish 
 my business on Friday, must take the train for the West 
 that evening." 
 
 "You must certainly come up for to-morrow night, 
 then," said Mr. Dysart. "You can get back from 
 New Haven in time for the train at 6.30, which brings
 
 1 88 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 you to our house by eight ; that is not late of a summer 
 evening." 
 
 " Thanks. I will do so with pleasure." 
 
 They were speeding along the river road behind a 
 pair of fine horses, and now reached Mr. Dysart's 
 summer house, one of the most attractive in the 
 neighborhood. It stood three or four hundred feet 
 from the road, on a green slope fronting the river, and 
 the approach was bordered with well-grown and trim 
 hedges. 
 
 Every stage of their progress had been observed from 
 a distance by Mr. Dunphy. He had lost sight of them 
 for a time when they drove away from the station ; but 
 having learned the whereabouts of Mr. Dysart's house, 
 was reconnoitring the premises, half an hour later, with 
 an experienced eye. After spending some time in that 
 occupation, he took a late train for New York. 
 
 Julia meanwhile had done the honors of the well-ap- 
 pointed supper-table, after which the trio adjourned to 
 a pretty little parlor, where Mr. Audran recounted to 
 eager listeners most of the incidents of the foregoing 
 history, withholding, of course, all significant passages 
 between himself and Helen. He was embarrassed in 
 speaking of the baroness, who, as it appeared, had 
 formed almost the sole subject of Helen's letters to 
 her father and sister. Both Mr. Dysart and Julia were 
 intensely interested to hear more about her, and from 
 an unbiassed source. 
 
 " I beg you will speak with perfect freedom," said 
 Mr. Dysart. " I shall be only too happy to have your
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 189 
 
 judgment of her, and particularly if it is favorable. 
 Tell us first how she looks." 
 
 " You tell me," said Robert, " that she is nearly fifty ; 
 but except for her very white hair, I should have thought 
 her not more than thirty-five. She is very erect and 
 stately, very clear of complexion and smooth of feature, 
 a little stouter, perhaps, than she may have been, but 
 still very elastic and active. Her voice is particularly 
 sweet and sympathetic. You should have heard her 
 sing at our little dinner-party. It was a beautiful song of 
 Beranger's, ' The Shooting Stars.' The refrain is, ' Qui 
 file, et file, et disparait.' It was exquisite. 
 
 " And how is she as to manners and conversation ? " 
 said Julia. 
 
 " I should say that she had great ability," answered 
 Robert. " She speaks several languages well ; her Eng- 
 lish, particularly, is so good that you would believe it 
 to be her native tongue. She is evidently very well 
 educated, and is never at a loss. Under the most diffi- 
 cult circumstances, and even when her feelings are ex- 
 cited, she is always dignified and elegant." 
 
 " Did she not strike you as an artful person ? " ques- 
 tioned Julia. 
 
 " She seems," said Robert, " like one who has pur- 
 poses and plans, and yet who is very frank about them. 
 It would appear as if nothing ever comes into her mind 
 which she is afraid or ashamed to show." 
 
 " She must be a remarkable woman, indeed," said 
 Julia, "if she can fascinate and beguile my sister. 
 Helen is very clear-headed, and always goes directly to
 
 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 the point. She is not easily taken in, and it puzzles me 
 extremely that she should seem to accept and approve 
 this equivocal or unequivocal woman. Do you think 
 the baroness is really fond of Helen { " 
 
 " I remember," said Robert, " a remark of your sis- 
 ter's. She said, ' The baroness is not a common woman, 
 her features and expression show that. When a 
 woman is fifty years of age, and has led a weak or 
 vicious or shallow life, it will leave some trace on ex- 
 pression and manner; but she is as fresh and full of 
 enthusiasm as a girl, and her thoughts range over wide 
 areas and go down to the roots of things.' Those, I 
 believe, were her very words. But the baroness is 
 without doubt fond of your sister, very fond and very 
 proud." 
 
 " How do they bear it ? " said Julia impatiently. 
 
 " It seemed to me," said Robert, " that the first feel- 
 ing of all the party was one of distrust and repugnance 
 at being associated with a person of the baroness's 
 antecedents. It was certainly a hard task which she set 
 herself, to overcome all their prejudice ; but gradually she 
 seems to have won her way to the sympathy and confi- 
 dence of every one, and I thought, in a great measure, 
 to their real esteem also. I can hardly believe that she 
 would have done so if she had not inspired them with a 
 belief of the goodness of her heart." 
 
 " And how much do you think she will exact or ex- 
 pect of Helen ?" said Julia. 
 
 " I cannot tell/' answered he. " All that she can 
 get ; of that I am sure."
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 191 
 
 " And what is the baron like ? " 
 
 " The baron is still in early middle life, a distin- 
 guished soldier, a very fine-looking person, and devoted 
 to his sister. He is a Deputy of the French Assembly, 
 a Republican, and has some anticipations of diplomatic 
 service in America." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Mr. Dysart " He is a man of mark, 
 then. Is he also a man of fortune ? " 
 
 "I can only guess," said Robert. "I -have seen a 
 sketch of the chateau at or near Colmar, where they 
 live. It seems a fine property. He has succeeded to 
 the title, and, the baroness says, to half the estate, the 
 remainder belonging to herself. There was nothing 
 of the ostentation of wealth about either of them, in 
 fact, no allusion to it ; but there was all the liberality 
 and elegance of appointment which comes of easy cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 " You said that the baroness sang," said Julia. " She 
 is accomplished, then ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Robert ; " she sings well and draws 
 beautifully ; the baron told me that she is an excellent 
 horsewoman ; and I know that she is well versed in art 
 and literature." 
 
 " Did the baron seem to share her views as to Helen ? " 
 said Mr. Dysart. 
 
 " The baron is so much a' man of the world that it is 
 not easy to know exactly what his views are. He was 
 most courteous and respectful to all the ladies, and 
 evidently very much impressed by your sister." 
 
 "I cannot help wondering," said Julia, "whether he
 
 192 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 has any desire to make a baroness of Helen. I sup- 
 pose you cannot relieve our minds on that head, Mr. 
 Audran ? " 
 
 " I certainly cannot," answered Robert, laughing. 
 
 " Well, what does Alice say about it ? She is not so 
 discreet as you." 
 
 " Miss Alice said nothing about it in my hearing ; but 
 if I were to guess, I should say she was not so favora- 
 bly impressed with the baron and baroness as are the 
 rest of the party. Naturally, she received less attention 
 from them, and they were less anxious to win her good 
 opinion." 
 
 " Did you see any likeness between Helen and her 
 mother ? " said Mr. Dysart. 
 
 " Yes," replied Robert, " a striking likeness, not only 
 in person but in mind and in manner. I do not mean 
 to say that the baroness is equal to Miss Dysart." 
 
 " I should hope not," cried Julia. 
 
 "You may have the opportunity of forming your own 
 opinion, I fancy," said Robert. " It was clear to me 
 that both the baron and his sister took pains to intimate 
 their intention of perhaps coming to America ; and I am 
 convinced that if that were the only way in which the 
 baroness could maintain relations with your sister, she 
 would not hesitate for a moment to do so." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Julia. " What on earth should we 
 do with her ? How could we know her without coun- 
 tenancing her, and how could we countenance her 
 without losing our own position, in our own eyes, and in 
 hers, and in the world's."
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 193 
 
 "I think that will be more clear to you when you 
 come to know her. She has too much force and origi- 
 nality to depend upon any position which is merely 
 accorded to her. She would have her own resources, 
 social and of every other kind." 
 
 " Well," said Julia, " I am in despair. Nobody seems 
 to think about this woman as I should suppose they 
 would. It seems to me that abhorrence of her past 
 life and disgust at her present pretensions would be the 
 natural sentiment of all of us ; instead of which all 
 my mother even accept her history, are full of apolo- 
 gies for her behavior, and one and all are ready to give 
 her whatever she asks. I cannot understand it, and I 
 don't like it. I had hoped that Mr. Audran, at least, 
 would be free to denounce her, but he speaks of her 
 just as respectfully as the rest." She paused, evidently 
 in great excitement, then began again. 
 
 " Never mind if I am not expected to speak, I 
 must ! " she cried. " Mr. Audran, you have rendered 
 the greatest service conceivable to us and to Helen. 
 Helen is very chary and reserved in what she says of 
 you ; but Alice is not so reticent, and Alice says that 
 Helen has the greatest regard for you, and you, appar- 
 ently, for her. How am I to understand it, that you 
 appear so much interested in allowing the baroness to 
 dispose of Helen just as she pleases, marrying her 
 to the baron if she likes ? " 
 
 "Julia! Julia!" said her father, "you have no right 
 to ask Mr. Audran such questions, and he is under no 
 obligation to answer them. You know how much Helen 
 
 13
 
 194 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 herself would resent what you have just said, and how 
 annoying it must be to Mr. Audran. I am really shocked 
 at you, child ! " 
 
 " Do forgive me ! " said Julia. " I suppose it was 
 outrageous, papa, but I have been half wild all day. 
 Mr. Audran, I am very impertinent, and you may say 
 so plainly if you like." 
 
 " Not impertinent so far as it concerns myself," said 
 Robert ; " but if I have won any place in your sister's 
 good opinion, Miss Julia, I must take care not to risk 
 it by assuming any influence which she has not con- 
 ceded." 
 
 " Well," said Julia, " I hope I know when I have been 
 sufficiently schooled. It is better that I should retire, 
 and digest my lesson. Good-night, Mr. Audran, I 
 shall get over my crossness before morning ; and good- 
 night, papa." 
 
 " I am very glad to believe," said Mr. Dysart, " that 
 both my wife and Helen take a more reasonable view of 
 this matter than Julia. The easiest way out of such 
 complications is the best. I cannot be very angry with 
 a woman who gave me my liberty in asserting her own. 
 It has been the dark spot in my life that my neglect 
 and coldness should have driven her to an untimely 
 death, and it is an immense relief in one way to know 
 not only that she lives, but that I have not ruined her 
 life, that she has found a growth and happiness for 
 herself to which I never should have led her. Manuela 
 was always gentle and magnanimous, and there was 
 much in me as a husband for her to pardon and
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 195 
 
 forget. Of course the idea that she can assert any con- 
 trol over Helen which Helen herself does not accept is 
 absurd. Her wish for her child is a natural one ; in 
 fact, every one must think better of her for having it." 
 
 " It is a matter upon which, of course, I can express 
 no opinion," said Robert ; " but, Mr. Dysart, so much 
 has been said that I think it proper to add that my brief 
 acquaintance with your daughter led me to feel an in- 
 terest in her such as I have never felt for any other 
 woman. She knows it, for I have told her so ; and all 
 that I have won from her in reply is that she regards 
 me as a valued friend, whose sentiments time must be 
 allowed to ripen and to prove ; and she spoke with such 
 decision that I was obliged to accept her conclusion. 
 Of course it is to you only that I could venture to con- 
 fide this, and to declare my intention of commending 
 myself to her as best I can. You may very naturally 
 feel that a man placed as I am has hardly a right to as- 
 pire to Miss Dysart ; and as I would not seem too pre- 
 sumptuous, I must ask leave to tell you something of 
 my affairs. I have a fair prospect of business success 
 in Colorado. My partner and myself are about to 
 double our investment in stock, and in so doing we 
 shall become prominent among the cattle-farmers of 
 our State, a business which has proved lucrative to 
 almost everybody engaged in it so far. I am also told 
 that, in my absence, and without my instance, some 
 chance of public and political preferment has been sug- 
 gested for me." 
 
 " My dear sir," replied Mr. Dysart, " I would not and
 
 196 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 shall not control my daughter's choice, and I cannot yet 
 tell you how far I may try to influence it ; but I am 
 bound to express my sense of the manly and honorable 
 way in which you have dealt with me, and, I believe, 
 with her. If she has said that time only can determine 
 your sentiments and hers, I recognize an honesty and 
 a good sense which I am apt to find in all she says and 
 does."
 
 GLEN WOOD AND JULIA. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GLENWOOD AND JULIA. 
 
 \T 7HEN Mr. Audran came down the next morning, 
 * * he found Julia on the southern piazza, picking 
 the dead leaves from the flower-baskets. Bright sun- 
 light filtered through the woodbine, long, velvet-soft 
 tree-shadows fell across the lawn ; below, the river shone 
 in gold. But the young day was not more fresh and 
 alluring than the maiden with her fresh cambric robe 
 and shining morning face. 
 
 " I was very fractious and impatient last night," she 
 said, by way of greeting ; " but I have come to my 
 senses this morning. What good would there be in my 
 standing out all alone by myself ? " 
 
 " You certainly misunderstood me," said Robert, " if 
 you thought me interested to secure the success of 
 Madame Waldeyer's scheme. Nothing could be further 
 from the truth. I wished only to make her seem less 
 disagreeable in case she should succeed. I am sure 
 your sister feels that her wishes cannot be altogether 
 disregarded and herself rejected, and your father and 
 mother are of the same opinion. If that be so, is it 
 not better to get what pleasure you can from the sit- 
 uation ? "
 
 1 98 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " Do you think the baron and baroness will continue 
 to pursue them from place to place as they go through 
 Switzerland ? " 
 
 " I don't feel sure as to that. They will not be likely 
 to do anything which would make themselves unaccept- 
 able to your sister and her friends. Consider, Miss 
 Julia. You question me now, but from this day forward 
 you will have more and bettei means of information 
 than I. How many times I shall long to know what 
 you know when knowledge will be impossible for me! " 
 
 " Shall you want very much to know ? " asked Julia 
 archly. 
 
 " Very much indeed," said Robert quietly. 
 
 " You are going to your home in Colorado, you say, 
 Mr. Audran. Shall you remain there ? " 
 
 " Certainly, until I am called elsewhere." 
 
 " And when are you to be in New York again ? " 
 
 "That I cannot tell; it must depend on circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " They will all be at home in November, you know. 
 You will come on then, won't you ? " 
 
 " I hope I may." 
 
 Just then came the summons to breakfast. Julia was 
 vexed at the interruption. " Mr. Audran, you are most 
 provoking. You know very well that I want to find out 
 what there is between you and Helen." 
 
 "Well, Miss Julia, you may assume anything you 
 please of me, and I shall not have the least objection to 
 your getting any information from your sister which she 
 is willing to give."
 
 GLENWOOD AND JULIA. 199 
 
 " Time and trains wait for no man," said Mr. Dysart, 
 from the hall door. "Julia, it is going to be very warm 
 to-day, and since Mr. Audran is not to be in town, I 
 think I shall come up by the three o'clock train. Apro- 
 pos, Mr. Audran, where are your bonds ? " 
 
 " In the Park Bank," said Robert. 
 
 " Then you need not go down town at all unless you 
 care to do so. Write an order to the Bank to deliver 
 them to the Union Trust Company as collateral on a 
 loan of $10,000, the amount to be deposited to your 
 order on the Park Bank. I will make all the negotia- 
 tions, and you shall have the money at four per cent. 
 Come ! we must make haste with our breakfast." 
 
 Robert was glad to accept the proposal. The city, 
 on that hot day, offered no attractions ; so the gentle- 
 men parted at the station, Robert taking the New 
 Haven train. " I will come up as early as I can," were 
 his last words ; and Mr. Dysart's, " And I will bring all 
 those papers about my affair." 
 
 Meantime Mr. Dunphy had hunted up a "Faker." 
 not a Hindoo saint, by any means, but a trim, nice- 
 looking boy of seventeen, dextrous in pocket-picking 
 and sharp at all evil practices. Shortly after Mr. Dysart 
 reached his office the boy entered, and asked for Mr. 
 Foxton. The clerk knew no such person. The boy 
 then stated that Mr. Foxton was a gentleman from the 
 West, who was going to England, and was to meet a Mr. 
 Audran at Mr. Dysart's office. His (the boy's) mother 
 had been Mr. Foxton's nurse in England, and wanted 
 to see him. Might he wait awhile, on the chance of 
 Mr. Foxton's coming in ?
 
 200 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 This was permitted. Mr. Dysart came and went, 
 arranging Robert's business and attending to other 
 matters, but still the boy did not move. From behind 
 a newspaper he watched everything narrowly. About 
 two o'clock Mr. Dysart, who had been absent for an 
 hour, returned, and presently, taking the safe-key, 
 unlocked an interior compartment, took thence a pack- 
 age and placed it in the breast-pocket of his coat. At 
 this the boy got up, saying he could wait no longer, and 
 went out to report to Mr. Dunphy, who was lurking in 
 a doorway on the other side of the street. 
 
 When Mr. Dysart came out, a little later, the pair 
 followed him at a distance, until at the Astor House he 
 caught a car just leaving for the Grand Central Station. 
 The boy hastened forward, and, hustling Mr. Dysart on 
 the platform, attempted to reach his breast-pocket, but 
 failed. Mr. Dysart walked to the upper end of the car 
 and took a seat next the door. It was impossible to 
 reach his pocket without notice. Again, when he 
 alighted, at either door of the station and at the door of 
 the car, the attempt was renewed and was unsuccessful. 
 The boy came back chagrined to Dunphy, who had 
 seated himself in another car. They hurried out, and 
 Dunphy wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper, as fol- 
 lows : " Take the 1 8-foot boat and large spritsail, 2 pair 
 oars, 2 yards black cambric, 2 feed-bags, 2 cod-lines, 
 Colts. Shady. Be within call of two willows, quarter 
 of a mile above Glenwood Station, at 9. Get the 
 Badger." Then he returned to the car behind that in 
 which Mr. Dysart sat, and the boy went his way down
 
 GLENWOOD AND JULIA. 2OI 
 
 42d Street to the North River, and along the bank 
 until he reached a shanty, before which lay a stanch 
 but light boat, and in it a man at work upon some 
 fishing-tackle. The boy handed the note to this man, 
 who glanced at it and said, "Run down to the car 
 stable and tell Barney the Badger to come up here, 
 quick." 
 
 When the Badger arrived, they entered upon a dis- 
 cussion of the note, the result of which was that Dunphy 
 expected them to meet him with a well-equipped boat, 
 and material for masks and for gagging and binding 
 two people. 
 
 " He means that we shall carry revolvers, Bill. That 
 looks like biz." 
 
 " He don't mean to be nabbed if the snap of a cap 
 will clear him," pleasantly answered Bill. 
 
 " I reckon we 'd better take a bottle of chloroform 
 along, to make the inside of them bags smell good. 
 There 's no use being cruel when there ain't no need on 
 it," said the Badger. 
 
 " You go and buy the kit, Barney, and I '11 get the 
 boat ready. We must be off right away, for the tide 's 
 agin us, and we 've got to make twenty miles before 
 sundown ; but the tide 's right to bring us home easy, 
 and that 's the main point." 
 
 At seven that evening the boys who were bathing off 
 the docks at Yonkers hailed a small boat careening 
 under a large sail and standing northward. An hour 
 later the sail was furled, the mast unshipped and laid 
 down, and two men were apparently fishing, while a boy
 
 202 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 with oars kept the boat off a wooded point above Glen- 
 wood. Half an hour later Dunphy hailed the boat, and 
 was taken on board to complete the preparations and 
 the programme. He pointed out the house on the hill- 
 side, with a background of trees and an open lawn in 
 front. It was not more than three hundred yards from 
 where the boat lay. 
 
 " Boys," said he, " this ain't no burglary job. What 
 I want is a batch of papers out of the pocket of an old 
 man up yonder. I reckoned we 'd have to tackle two 
 on 'em, but 't aint so. T' other one hain't come up yet, 
 and he can't get here now afore ten o'clock, if he comes 
 at all. We '11 get up to the house now, Bill and I. 
 Barney, you stay in the boat, take the oars from that 
 kid, and stand ready to start her out lively as soon as 
 we tumble aboard. The windows is all open, and the 
 old feller was sitting on the piazzy just now. We '11 
 work up behind that hedge on the north side of the 
 house, and if we can see him anywhere we '11 make a 
 dash at him. Bill, you '11 hold his arms, and I '11 go 
 through him. If we can't find the papers, we must 
 carry the old man off and keep him in Tom Houlihan's 
 crib till he squeals. But we mustn't hurt him if we can 
 help it." 
 
 The two ruffians crept along behind the evergreen 
 hedge, unobserved, to a point from which they could 
 look through the open windows of the lighted house 
 about sixty feet distant. Dunphy produced a small 
 saw, with which he cut through the stems of three or four 
 jcedar-bushes without displacing them. A push would
 
 GLENWOOD AND JULIA. 203 
 
 throw them down, and leave an opening sufficient for 
 two men to pass. Elsewhere the hedge was impassable, 
 and he counted on an easy retreat from pursuers, who 
 would not be able to get near him unless they lighted 
 upon the narrow opening which he had made. 
 
 We must now leave these worthies for a moment, to 
 follow the movements of Mr. Audran. He had gone 
 to New Haven, expecting to reach the city on his return 
 about five o'clock, and to take the six o'clock train for 
 Glenwood. But he had missed his train at New Haven, 
 and was obliged to wait until five for another, which 
 was not due in the city until eight. Vexed at the dis- 
 appointment, he telegraphed that he should take the 
 nine o'clock train from New York. 
 
 Julia was greatly disappointed, and went to the piano 
 to console herself and pass away the time. Mr. Dysart, 
 to escape distraction, retreated to the dining-room with 
 his newspaper. Robert was due now in half an hour, 
 and he bethought himself to look over the papers which 
 they meant to examine together. Drawing his chair to 
 the table, he turned his back to the window and spread 
 out the papers before him. The day had been very 
 warm, though after nightfall a pyramid of black cloud 
 had begun to rise in the west. The air was heavy 
 and still ; there was no wind on the earth below, but 
 the dark masses above were rolled and crowded 
 by an upper current. Now and then, through some 
 break in the clouds, the bright moon shone down upon 
 the trembling river, the quivering trees, and the cattle 
 crouching in the silent pastures ; these transient gleams
 
 204 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 but served to make the prevailing darkness more in- 
 tense. 
 
 Dunphy and his accomplice had just gotten a view 
 of Mr. Dysart and his employment, and were preparing 
 for an assault, when the whistle of the incoming train 
 was heard. 
 
 " We must do it this minute, Bill," cried Dunphy, 
 "or there may be another chap to tackle, and then 
 we '11 have to wait two hours and have no such 
 chance." 
 
 Mr. Dysart heard the whistle, rose, and walked to the 
 window facing the gap in the hedge where the men la}', 
 and stood there. They could not move without attract- 
 ing his attention. 
 
 " Damnation ! " muttered Dunphy. " If we stir now, 
 he '11 grab his papers and dodge." 
 
 Mr. Dysart showed no disposition to budge, but for 
 full fifteen minutes stood gazing out into the darkness 
 beyond the strand of light which, from behind his tall 
 figure, fell through the open window and streamed 
 full upon the lawn and hedge. At length, thinking 
 Robert might be approaching from the opposite corner 
 of the lawn, he turned to go toward the door. Robert, 
 two hundred yards distant in the darkness, saw him pass 
 the western window ; the next instant he noticed the 
 hedge beyond the house shake violently in the windless 
 air ; some bushes were thrown down, two men sprang 
 through the gap and crept toward the piazza. Robert 
 quickened his steps ; he saw them mount the piazza, and 
 reach the full-length window. He shouted, "Thieves!
 
 GLEN WOOD AND JULIA. 2O$ 
 
 thieves ! " and rushed toward the house. As he rushed 
 through the window, Mr. Dysart lay rolling on the floor, 
 with a meal-bag pulled down over his head, and pinioned 
 by one ruffian, while another was sweeping together the 
 papers on the table. Beside the papers lay a pistol. 
 With one bound Robert had seized the pistol. " Run, 
 Bill ! " shouted the miscreant ; and as he himself sprang 
 through one window, Bill sprang through another. A 
 ball from Robert's pistol cut Dunphy's ear as he leaped 
 from the piazza. 
 
 Robert waited but for an instant, to pull the bag from 
 Mr. Dysart's head, and then rushed forward in pursuit ; 
 but the men had already gained an advance of nearly a 
 hundred yards. 
 
 " Drop those papers, Dunphy ! " shouted Robert. 
 
 " See you damned first, Audran ! " yelled Dunphy, 
 as he climbed the wall at the bottom of the lawn, and 
 a second bullet from Robert's pistol whizzed by his 
 head. 
 
 Barney had backed the stern of the boat against the 
 low shore, and sat with balanced oars. Bill reached it 
 first, for Dunphy had stumbled beneath the wall. Rob- 
 ert was gaining on him, but he saw that in the short 
 distance it was impossible that he should overtake them. 
 He had clutched a big stone as he climbed the wall, 
 and now he threw it with all his force. It struck Dun- 
 phy between the shoulders just as he was steadying 
 himself to step into the boat, and tumbled him headlong 
 across the thwart upon his comrades. With a rapid 
 stroke from Barney the boat shot out into the river, and
 
 206 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 Bill raised his bruised and bleeding partner from the 
 thwart on which he lay. 
 
 " Damned if I don't kill him ! " growled Dunphy, as 
 he wiped his bleeding face. " Give us your pistol !." 
 
 But the boat was now far from the shore, and shot 
 after shot passed harmless over Robert, who had 
 dropped upon the ground with the first. He counted 
 the reports, one two three four five. "He 
 is saving his last charge," thought Robert, as Dunphy 
 called, " Back water, Barney. I '11 plug him ! " But 
 a well-directed shot from Robert's pistol now sung 
 over Barney's head, and he pulled more fiercely out 
 into the stream. 
 
 Lights were crossing the lawn, the coachman and 
 the gardener were coming at a run, and the thieves 
 contented themselves with their booty and their escape. 
 
 Next moment the servants came up, followed by 
 Mr. Dysart. 
 
 " You are not hurt, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 " No, thank you. Nor you ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," said Mr. Dysart. " Are they off ? 
 What shall we do next ? " 
 
 " Telegraph to the city police, I should say," answered 
 Robert. " Have they got anything of value ? " 
 
 " All the papers about the mine, including the con- 
 tract upon which I advanced money." 
 
 " Is your money lost, then ? " said Robert. 
 
 "Really, I don't know," said Mr. Dysart, "but at 
 any rate I have been beaten and robbed by a pair of 
 scoundrels. I '11 have them yet."
 
 GLENWOOD AND JULIA, 207 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Audran, " shall we go down to the 
 station and write the despatch ? " 
 
 One of the servants was sent back to reassure Julia, 
 and they hastened on their errand. 
 
 " You know the fellows, Mr. Audran ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know one. It was, as you suppose, Dunphy, 
 the tool and accomplice of Mohler and David." 
 
 " Of course, then, what they have got was what they 
 came for. Now they must hold it, if it is to serve them. 
 What will this fellow be likely to do next ? " 
 
 " Go home and report, I should say," said Robert. 
 " If he can once get safely to Colorado, he will count 
 on defying process or arrest." 
 
 " I '11 follow him," said Mr. Dysart, " and I '11 see for 
 myself where my money has gone, as I ought to have 
 done in the first place." 
 
 Telegrams were sent to the police of New York, 
 Brooklyn, and Jersey City, giving description of Dun- 
 phy ; then the two gentlemen returned to the house. 
 
 "The business of the evening," said Mr. Dysart, 
 "being unavoidably postponed, we may as well give 
 what is left to Julia." 
 
 Julia was, of course, greatly alarmed, but she put 
 great restraint upon herself lest her fears might com- 
 promise the plans of the gentlemen ; and when her 
 father said, " I am going to Colorado, to-morrow night, 
 with Mr. Audran," she replied bravely, " If you must 
 go, I am glad it is in such company. May I ask Mr. 
 and Mrs. Benlow and her sister to come up and stay 
 with me while you are gone ? "
 
 208 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " By all means. I hope they will come," said Mr. 
 Dysart. 
 
 "And now," said Julia, "I shall have an adventure 
 to report to mother and Helen quite equal to any of 
 theirs. And as you, Mr. Audran, play the leading role 
 in both, you will figure as the hero of two hemispheres 
 and the champion of the Dysart family. I declare, it is 
 embarrassing. What ever are we going to do for you, to 
 repay all that you have done for us ? " 
 
 " Wait, if you please, till I demand payment, and then 
 we will see." 
 
 " But there ought to be a little scene here and now," 
 said Julia. " If there is not, I shall always feel that I 
 did not ' rise to the occasion ' as I ought. Mr. Audran 
 has saved my father from what might well have been 
 his death, just as he saved my sister, and I am bid- 
 den to wait, and not thank him ! " The attempt to cover 
 her tremor of excitement by raillery ended in a passion 
 of tears. 
 
 " Well," said Robert, " there can certainly nothing 
 more be said now, Miss Julia. The most exacting per- 
 son could ask no greater reward than your smiles and 
 your tears. You are not exactly like your sister, but 
 you are a most perfect complement of her ; and to have 
 known you both, and to have a place in your memory, is 
 reward enough for any man or anything. Mr. Dysart, 
 if I had daughters I should wish that they might be 
 like yours." 
 
 " ' These are my jewels,' " said the proud father. 
 " But it is twelve o'clock now, and we have to leave at
 
 GLENWOOD AND JULIA. , 209 
 
 half-past seven. You will go with us to town, Julia, 
 and carry your own invitation to the Benlows ? " 
 
 " Yes, please ; and so I will say good-night to you 
 both." 
 
 About the same time, or somewhat later, Mr. Dunphy 
 got ashore between Hoboken and Jersey City, worked 
 his way round into the freight-yard of the Erie Railway, 
 climbed between two cars of an out-going freight-train, 
 and stole a somewhat precarious and rough, but on the 
 whole a satisfactory, ride as far as Paterson. It was 
 nearly daylight when he reached that city, unobserved ; 
 and. quitting his place, he found soon after a barber 
 and a breakfast, and took a first-class passage on the 
 morning western express. " About now," said he, 
 "them cops will be looking for me round Cortlandt 
 Street." 
 
 The programme made at Glenwood was fully realized 
 next day. By three o'clock Julia had secured her visit- 
 ors, Mr. Dysart had put detectives on the track of the 
 thieves, Robert was in possession of the title to the 
 Maritana estate, the Foxtons had received their price 
 as agreed upon, and Mr. Dysart and Julia had left for 
 Glenwood. 
 
 Robert spent the remainder of the day in making 
 purchases for Colorado and in writing letters, and at 
 eight P. M. was seated in a section of a sleeping-car, 
 where he was joined by Mr. Dysart when the train 
 reached Poughkeepsie. Mr. Dunphy had twelve hours' 
 start of them on the Erie road. 
 
 On the evening of the 28th they rolled out of the 
 14
 
 210 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 dust and din of Kansas City, across the turbid Mis- 
 souri, and on to the green plains of Kansas, by the 
 Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway ; and again 
 Mr. Dunphy had just twelve hours' start of them, upon 
 the same route.
 
 "YOUTH AT THE PROW." 211 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " YOUTH AT THE PROW." 
 
 I^IFTEEN days had passed since Mr. Audran left 
 *- Interlaken. The Dysarts and Waldeyers still 
 remained there, making the usual excursions to the 
 Grindelwald, the Wengern Alp, and the Lauterbrunnen 
 valley, including Miirren. In fact, Helen, to whom all 
 decisions were referred, loyally carried out, so far as 
 she could, the plan which Robert had sketched for her. 
 The whole party joined in these excursions, the baron- 
 ess and Mrs. Dysart going wherever carriages or chairs 
 could take them. The baron made a capital guide. 
 Alice declared that he was as useful as Mr. Audran and 
 almost as intelligent, but he had not Mr. Audran's fac- 
 ulty of communicating his own enthusiasm. 
 
 The baroness had made an entire conquest of Mrs. 
 Dysart and Eugene, by the sense and spirit of her con- 
 versation, her fund of anecdote, and her readiness to 
 please and oblige. Upon Helen she had made no 
 experiments ; there had never been any renewal of 
 the excitement which attended their early interviews. 
 Wherever Helen led conversation, she followed it. 
 Whenever Helen spoke of her friends at home, she 
 showed great interest in learning all about them. She
 
 212 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 was glad if Helen allowed her to adjust her dress, very 
 happy when she saw that Helen remembered or deferred 
 to her tastes and opinions, wished to hear her sing, and 
 followed all her motions with a watchful pride and pleas- 
 ure so constant that Mrs. Dysart and Alice were often 
 amused by it. 
 
 At the end of ten days it became evident that they 
 had exhausted the attractions of Interlaken, and that it 
 was time to seek something new. One day Madame 
 Waldeyer found Alice by herself, and began a conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " You will be leaving Interlaken soon, will you not ? 
 Whither will you go ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," said Alice. " I don't 
 think Mrs. Dysart has any very settled plan. What 
 would you advise ? " 
 
 " If I knew what you most wished to see, I might 
 suggest where you would be most likely to find it," 
 replied the baroness. " It would make very little dif- 
 ference to me where you go, if I might go with you." 
 
 " Have you, then, no plans of your own ? " said 
 Alice. 
 
 " No, dear," replied the baroness. " The thing which 
 I most desire now is to be near my daughter, to be 
 happy, as I am now, in her presence, and, if possible, to 
 do something which will add to her pleasure. Alice, I 
 know you love Helen ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. Everybody loves Helen." 
 
 The baroness looked tenderly and sadly upon her as 
 she continued, "And yet you have home and parents
 
 "YOUTH AT THE PROW." 213 
 
 and brothers and sisters and friends and youth, and all 
 the hope and promise of life before you. Whatever is 
 opening for you has closed or is closing for me. I can- 
 not bear to be alone at Hohentauben, where everything 
 reminds me of him who was all the world to me ! O 
 dear child, I hope you may some time belong to one who 
 will not only fill your life with endless love and trust, but 
 will lift your mind to everything that is fresh and true 
 and fair. Why was I formed and trained to love so 
 deeply, if I may not always have something to love ? 
 How can I go away from Helen, who is so dear to me, 
 and whose love I so much long to win ? " 
 
 " I don't know, Madame Waldeyer. I am sure I 
 don't know how you can go; but, for that matter, 
 neither do I see how you can stay. Everybody must 
 think a great deal better of you, and no one can re- 
 proach you, for loving Helen as you do. You are so 
 simple and direct yourself, dear madame, that you will 
 not be offended at what I may say ? " 
 
 " No, indeed. Speak freely as you will. I wind my- 
 self up so in my own desires and imaginings that I 
 ought to know, and I want to know, how they seem to 
 others." 
 
 Alice hesitated one moment, and then began bravely : 
 " I am not sure that I am right, and I am afraid you 
 will think I am saying cruel things, but it seems to me 
 that you have lost your opportunity. Only the infancy 
 and youth of children belong to their parents. When 
 they are matured, like Helen, they have their own lives 
 to live, their own homes to make ; and they do not go
 
 214 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 back and develop new affections for new-found parents, 
 unless they are bound to them by inevitable association. 
 I cannot bear to say what is so painful to you, but we 
 must all face the facts of life ; and I do not see why 
 you are not to look on Helen as other mothers of your 
 age look on their full-grown daughters, and more so, 
 even, for your claim can never be as good as theirs." 
 
 " You are right, dear. In your own brave, true words, 
 I have lost my opportunity. All her tender, dependent 
 infancy; all her sweet, budding childhood ; all her girl- 
 ish beauty, with its yearnings for counsel and sympa- 
 thy, I have lost. A mother's life of devotion is her 
 true claim to the love of a right-minded child. Helen 
 does not owe me that, she never did, she never will. 
 If she is indignant that I forsook her in her cradle, 
 when no dumb creature even forsakes her young, I can- 
 not answer her. I may not claim from her a daughter's 
 love, for I have not been a mother to her ; and she 
 must prefer Mrs. Dysart, who has been to her all that I 
 have not been. It seems too much to ask her to be- 
 lieve that for nearly thirty years, unseen, unknown, 
 and silent, all this time a mother's heart has been in 
 me, more intense because denied expression, nothing 
 lost, complete, compact, now passionately anxious to 
 atone for past default. An injured woman, abandoned 
 at the time of her greatest need, and suffering an eclipse 
 of reason, sinned against her own child, under circum- 
 stances in which repentance, however deep, however 
 constant, must be unavailing. Must it be forever un- 
 availing ? I did not give her care, but I did give her
 
 "YOUTH AT THE PROW." 21$ 
 
 life, bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh ; and I want 
 to give her whatever good of life remains in me. The 
 threads of my being are woven all through the web of 
 hers ; the type of her nature is in mine, from which it 
 sprung. She shrinks and dilates, she suffers and aspires, 
 as I do. My picture at thirty would pass for her picture 
 now ; and wherever she is unlike me, she is like what I 
 most admire." 
 
 Alice looked up ; and four tender, tearful eyes told their 
 story to each other. 
 
 " Well, then, dear Madame Waldeyer, what would you 
 like to have us do ? " 
 
 The baroness's tone changed at once. Crisp and gay, 
 she answered, " I should like to be allowed to go wher- 
 ever you go ; and then, when you are tired of wandering, 
 that you all of you should come to me at Hohen- 
 tauben, and be my guests for so long as you could be con- 
 tent to stay. Now, you dear, persuasive, winning crea- 
 ture, won't you make this all plain to Mrs. Dysart and 
 to Helen ? And by and by I will speak for myself." 
 
 " Who is persuasive now, I wonder ? " said Alice, as 
 she curved her graceful neck to kiss the baroness's 
 cheek. " What do you call your home, madame ? " 
 
 " I called it just now Hohentauben. Like most places 
 in Alsace, however, it has both a French and a German 
 name. The French name is L'Epine, I fear be- 
 cause the old Waldeyers were thorns in the way of 
 peaceful travellers through the valley 'of the Fecht. It 
 stands on a wooded and rocky slope, looking south- 
 ward over a reach of the river, which just there
 
 216 . MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 widens out like a lake. At the foot of the slope an- 
 other small stream comes through thick woods, and falls 
 into the Fecht. It is called the Vogelbach, Bird- 
 Brook, because there used to be a great many wild 
 pigeons there. They came out of that shady valley, 
 and sailed about the lofty castle-tower ; and so the 
 country people called it Hohentauben, or High-Doves. 
 You shall all have saddle-horses when you get there, 
 and for every pleasant day a new excursion, to Kaiser- 
 berg, to Hohenlandberg, to the Drei Exen ; and the 
 baron shall tell you the story of each for a thousand 
 years, their courts, their festivals, and their sieges. 
 We are about four miles from Colmar ; and just across 
 the Rhine is the Black Forest, which is as full of strange 
 and fascinating nooks as any place in the world. Don't 
 you want to see all this, Alice ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do," said she. " Not everybody has the 
 chance ; not everybody can have you as hostess and 
 guide." 
 
 " Nobody ever has had," replied the baroness. " The 
 baron was peculiar. The most charming of men when 
 in society, he never sought it ; nor, until his later years, 
 did he ever invite any one to our house. He was too 
 fond of nature and study to be willing to give up his time 
 to strangers. Had it not been for our journeys twice a 
 year, I should have seen nobody. But come and see his 
 home, and how lovely he made it, and you will hardly 
 wonder." 
 
 " Believe me, madame," said Alice, " if the decision 
 rests with me, we shall come."
 
 "YOUTH AT THE PROW.". 2I/ 
 
 A council was held in Mrs. Dysart's room that even- 
 ing, the result of which was favorable to the wishes of 
 the baroness. All felt that a longer time in which to 
 study her character was desirable. So, when she next 
 mentioned her invitation, Mrs. Dysart said gently, 
 
 " We will stay a fortnight longer in the mountains, if 
 you are content to remain with us; and then, if you still 
 wish it, we will return with you to Hohentauben. Helen 
 has a fancy to go over the Gemmi Pass into the valley 
 of the Rhone, and so to Martigny. I don't know where 
 she got the notion, but it seems a pleasant one ; and, if 
 you agree, we will all go." 
 
 They went, accordingly, next evening to Spiez, in 
 order to make an early start on the following day for 
 the twenty miles' journey to Kandersteg. One carriage 
 was occupied by Mrs. Dysart and the baroness; the 
 baron, as in duty bound, attended them. Helen, Alice, 
 and Walter occupied the other, and Eugene vibrated 
 between the two. The baron took such care to point 
 out every feature of interest that when they arrived at 
 the upper end of the green and constantly narrowing 
 valley of the Kander, and at four o'clock descended at 
 the little inn of the Bar, they declared that the day had 
 been only too short and not at all fatiguing. 
 
 After dinner they strolled out in front of the solitary 
 hotel. The sun was already hidden behind the over- 
 shadowing mountain wall, and the chill of evening drove 
 them to the fire in the conversation-room. For the first 
 time since she came abroad, Mrs. Dysart had passed 
 out of the region of large towns and populous hotels ;
 
 218 . MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 and the transition to this wild, rock-bound valley, and 
 the lonely little hostel, of which they were the only 
 guests, contrasted strongly with the life and bustle which 
 they had just quitted. When the night-wind, in fitful 
 gusts, came rushing through the chasm where the 
 Oeschinen plunges over the rocks, the house trembled 
 with the jar of the cataract, and the glass in the win- 
 dows rattled. Then the wind would die away, whisper- 
 ing and sobbing through the tree-tops of the gloomy 
 pine-forest, to return again by and by in a gust which 
 roared down the chimney and scattered the ashes and 
 sparks about the hearth. Mrs. Dysart could not tell 
 why, after a day so bright, a sense of helplessness and 
 depression should suddenly take possession of her. 
 Her heart, which had been affected by the rheumatism 
 of the previous year, throbbed uneasily. She knew the 
 doctors had at the time been anxious about it, though 
 afterwards they had reassured her and themselves. 
 Could it be that it was going to trouble her again? 
 She was comforted when Madame Waldeyer suggested 
 that it might be the elevated air which disturbed the 
 regularity of the circulation ; still she did not entirely 
 accept the explanation. It would be so dreadful if any- 
 thing should happen to her there, in that lonely place, 
 she reflected. Taking Helen with her, she went early 
 to her room, and for the first time in months she said, 
 " Oh, I wish I were safely at home in our own peaceful 
 house on the Hudson ! " Well for her that she was not, 
 for even then her husband was struggling for breath in 
 the grasp of the burglar.
 
 "YOUTH AT THE PROW." 219 
 
 The birds were singing a full-throated carol to the 
 bright morning sun when she woke again, and all nature 
 was so brilliant and so dewy fresh, so vocal and inspired, 
 that Mrs. Dysart felt ashamed of the terrors of the night, 
 and quite ready to start upon the day's route to Leuker- 
 Bad, eighteen miles away. 
 
 At the Bar the carriage-road ends, and it is necessary 
 to find other modes of travel. It was arranged that 
 Mrs. Dysart should be carried over the whole route in 
 a chair slung between two poles, and so balanced as to 
 give her always a level seat. Four stout men were 
 to relieve each other in pairs at this work. The rest of 
 the party went on horseback, except the boys, 'who 
 started ahead on foot, to gain time for an occasional 
 rest. Through the fragrant forest, by the rushing gla- 
 cier stream, over bare and sunny ledges, past the chalet 
 of Schwarenbach, alongjihe cold Daubensee, they fared 
 on their slow but pleasant way, and a little after noon 
 joined the young men on a knoll a quarter of a mile to 
 the left of the road at the summit. 
 
 Behind them lay the path by which they had come, 
 sliding down into the dim northern forest, and flanked by 
 the Rinderhorn, the Balmhorn, and the great snowy mass 
 of the Altels. Westward the blue Lammeren Glacier 
 crept down from the side of Wildstrubel, crowrfe~d by a 
 peak of glittering ice, and fronted by the solemn crag 
 of the Daubenhorn. Before them a mighty precipice 
 dropped down into the green abyss, where, three thou- 
 sand feet below, and, as it seemed, hardly a pistol-shot 
 from its base, nestled the hamlet of Leuker-Bad, in the
 
 220 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 lovely valley of the Dala. Still farther, and another 
 three thousand feet lower down, lay the deep, narrow 
 valley of the Rhone, beyond which, ridge and crag and 
 cone of dark-red rock in Titanic roughness, climbed to 
 the mighty chain of the Valaisian Alps, Monte Rosa 
 gleaming fair in the far east, then the clustering spires 
 of the Mischabelhorner, the massive dome of the 
 Weisshorn, the slender pinnacle of the Matterhorn, and 
 low in the west the jagged ridge of the Dent Blanche. 
 
 They stood now face to face with that rank of giants 
 whose procession they had seen in profile, a fortnight 
 before, from the top of the Furca. Less dazzling in 
 beauty than the snowy frontage at Miirren, and less 
 comprehensive in its range than that of the Rigi, they 
 yet thought it by far the grandest panorama they had 
 seen in Switzerland ; and Helen said to herself, " Mr. 
 Audran knew what he was talking about." At this 
 point they dismounted, and the forethought of the baron 
 appeared in a provision of alpenstocks, to steady their 
 footsteps as they went plunging down the short, sharp 
 zigzags hewn on the face of the precipice. 
 
 The baron walked directly behind Mrs. Dysart's 
 chair, to reassure her by his presence. More than once 
 he might have dropped a stone plumb three hundred 
 feet down upon the heads of those in front. 
 
 By three o'clock they were all housed again in the 
 Hotel des Alpes. Mrs. Dysart had borne the journey 
 without fatigue, and remarked that it could not have 
 been the elevation which disturbed the action of her 
 heart the night before, because she had now passed 
 over a summit six thousand feet higher.
 
 "YOUTH AT THE PROW." 221 
 
 In the morning they were ushered along a stone- 
 paved corridor of the hotel into the bathing-hall, a 
 large rectangular room, lighted from above. The floor, 
 except a narrow margin along the sides which afforded 
 room for a bench against the wall, was broken by two 
 great square tanks, divided from each other by a bar. 
 These tanks were lined with tiles of white faience, and 
 in them sat a dozen or more bathers, the women in one 
 and the men in the other, each robed in a long white 
 flannel gown and parti-colored skull-cap. For support, 
 they generally rested their backs against the wall of 
 the tank ; and before each floated a tray, bearing coffee, 
 wine, cordial, or a book with a knife for turning the 
 leaves, while all around them the hot water flowed 
 silently in and out. Occasionally a sociable bather 
 would flop and paddle, like a human saurian, to ex- 
 change notes with his -acquaintance. The spectacle was 
 so comical to the visitors that they could hardly under- 
 stand the intense and serious decorum which prevailed 
 among the bathers. Mrs. Dysart heard such stories of 
 the virtue of the waters in cases of rheumatism that 
 she decided to give them three days' trial, during which 
 the younger people made several pleasant excursions. 
 On the fourth day they drove down the lovely valley of 
 the Dala to the railroad, which carried them quickly 
 past the Roman towns, the episcopal palaces, and the 
 feudal castles of Sion and Sierre, and so to Martigny. 
 
 Martigny is the point of departure for the Great St. 
 Bernard and the Valley of Chamouny ; and the question 
 arose whether the party should all go together over the 
 mountains into this valley.
 
 222 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 The baron assured Mrs. Dysart that the entire jour- 
 ney to Chamouny might easily be made in a carriage, 
 except four or five miles over the Tete Noire, where a 
 chair would be necessary. Madame Waldeyer's opinion 
 was then asked. 
 
 She hesitated, but at length said, " I have twice made 
 this trip ; there is nothing in it to disturb a person in 
 good health, except the risks of the weather. If Mr. 
 Dysart were here to accompany you, I think you could 
 go and enjoy it. But I cannot conceal from you that the 
 other evening at Kandersteg I felt as though I perhaps 
 had done wrong in not dissuading you from so adven- 
 turous a journey. If it was my duty then, it is all the 
 more so now, and yet I dislike to do it. If you should 
 decide against it, since the young people should by all 
 means have the pleasure, may I attend you to Geneva ? 
 It is but an hour by rail to the lake, and three hours in 
 a comfortable boat to the city. There you can rest for 
 the night in an excellent hotel, and next day we will 
 take a private carriage fifteen miles to Sallenches, and 
 the day after fifteen miles more into Chamouny, where 
 your party will rejoin you. I am so familiar with the 
 route that I do not hesitate in the least to conduct you 
 alone, leaving the baron to attend Helen and Miss Car- 
 roll across the mountains." 
 
 " That would certainly be a great pleasure for me," 
 said the baron; "but, as my escort is by no means 
 necessary for them, I cannot allow you and Madame 
 Dysart to make a three days' journey unattended. So 
 I must resign my privilege to Mr. Audran and Eugene."
 
 "YOUTH AT TEE PROW." 223 
 
 Mrs. Dysart protested against this, but the baron was 
 inflexible. 
 
 The whole party went together next day to Vernayaz 
 to see the Gorge du Trient and the magnificent fall of 
 the Sallenche, and thence the baron, baroness, and Mrs. 
 Dysart went on by rail to the lake, while the others re- 
 turned to Martigny for the next morning's start. The 
 baron had advised them to go by the Col de Balme 
 rather than by the Tete Noire, which, if the day were 
 clear, would give them a view of the entire chain of the 
 Bernese mountains, and, on the other hand, the still 
 more striking range of Mont Blanc. 
 
 The young men were now become so familiar with 
 mountain climbing that they disdained horses, and only 
 the ladies rode. A single guide attended them. Through 
 the meadows of the Dranse, and the chestnut-groves and 
 vineyards which reach far up its banks, they passed until 
 they came to the hamlet of Fontaine. 
 
 " Fontaine ? " said Helen. " Is not that the name of 
 your brother's estate ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Walter, "and this is the 2pth. He 
 expected to leave New York on the 24th, so he is prob- 
 ably there now, buried in shadows of the night. A third 
 of the round world's surface is between us and him, and 
 yet he sleeps by one fountain while we ride through an- 
 other. Man seems but a little thing here, among these 
 great mountains and cataracts of ice, yet how he sweeps 
 over the world, and uses it as though it were made for 
 him ! " 
 
 " And is it not ? " said Helen.
 
 224 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " I don't know," answered he. " If it is, it waited a 
 long time for his coming, and will probably survive his 
 departure equally long." 
 
 " Then you don't believe in the eternity of the race ? " 
 said she. 
 
 " There certainly was a time," he answered, " when it 
 did not exist ; therefore it is not eternal." 
 
 " Of course I meant eternal in the sense of its lasting 
 as long as the world itself." 
 
 " There the analogies of nature are against you. That 
 is not the record of the rocks or of the stars or of the 
 seas. These mountains on which we stand are built of 
 insect skeletons ; they are the tombstones of ages and 
 of races, oh, how many ! Destruction and reconstruc- 
 tion in endless succession have followed each other 
 since this planet was a mist of whirling vapor, and life 
 from its source has overflowed the world from unremem- 
 bered ages. Goethe says, 
 
 ' The world's unwithered countenance 
 Is bright as at creation's day.' 
 
 It is brighter, as from the records of the past the in- 
 finite scope of the future is foreshadowed, the earth 
 moving forward through cycles of adaptation, and life 
 advancing through like cycles of development from the 
 monad to the man ; and if in this procession of the ages 
 the earth should become fitted for something better than 
 man, would not something better be ? " 
 
 "Is not man better than any aspect of nature?" 
 asked Helen.
 
 " YOUTH AT THE PROW." 22$ 
 
 "Perhaps," said Walter; "but nature is not com- 
 plete. The word itself is a future participle, natura, 
 that which is about to be born." 
 
 " For what, then, was the world made, if not for man ? " 
 asked Helen. Alice had told her that Walter was a 
 speculative youth, but as yet she had hardly seen this 
 herself, and she was becoming interested. 
 
 " I must say again that I don't know," said Walter. 
 " The Maker made it ; he wished it even so, perhaps, 
 for the theatre upon which his own infinite life might 
 unfold itself in an infinite series of living thoughts and 
 forms. Would it be for his glory to suppose that any one 
 of his creatures is the final effort of his Maker, is any- 
 thing more than a transitional form ? " 
 
 " Go on," said Helen. " Let me know what your 
 thoughts are like." 
 
 " Well, then, suppose that this world is the home of 
 the Divine Spirit, to whom an atom is not small, and a 
 system is not great, infinite in activity as in knowl- 
 edge and power, working forever through periods of 
 which recorded time is but as one leaf of the volume, 
 what is the product ? A stream of thoughts and forms, 
 a tide of types and organisms, instincts, affections, affini- 
 ties, forces, laws, sequences, an incomprehensible ag- 
 gregate of life. Does it not seem a violent assumption 
 that all this was made for this latest and most conceited 
 creature, man ? I should say the world was made for all 
 the life which it has borne and shall bear, of which man 
 just now is the crest and crown, the breaking bubble 
 on the rolling surge of Being. 
 
 15
 
 226 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 "It does not matter whether vve'look through the infi- 
 nite spaces of the universe or whether we look through 
 the fathomless history of the world itself, I fancy man's 
 place in cosmos is not a thing to be beyond measure 
 glorified." 
 
 "Why! " said Helen, "you, one of the lords of cre- 
 ation, undervaluing your title at that rate ! Seriously, 
 now, Walter, what does the Bible say ? The first chapter 
 of Genesis tells us, 'So God created man in his own 
 image, in the image of God, created he him,' to ' have 
 dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of 
 the air, and over every living thing that moveth on the 
 earth.' That was in the beginning ; and, thousands of 
 years after, David sings, ' Thou hast made him a little 
 lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory 
 and honor. Thou hast put all things under his feet. 
 Then, if more were needed, in the fulness of time, ' for 
 us men, and for our salvation, he sent his Son, in the 
 likeness of sinful flesh.' Wherever, in any age or in 
 any faith, the form of God is pictured in word or work, 
 it is always in the type of the human form. What says 
 Hamlet? 'In action how like an angel, in apprehen- 
 sion how like a god ! ' Why, Walter, will you deny your 
 birthright, and thus insist upon a comparison with the 
 lower forms of life ? There are difficulties in your ma- 
 terial philosophy, no less than in faith. Why not, since 
 at last it must come to an election between them, elect 
 to trust the larger hope, the only hope which rescues 
 us from annihilation, and ' brings immortality to light ' ? 
 I did not mean to preach to you, my boy ; but I am 
 disturbed by your philosophy."
 
 "YOUTH AT THE PROW." 22? 
 
 " And I did not mean to scoff to you, Miss Dysart. 
 But is there anything irreverent in holding that all forms 
 of being are alike issues of the Divine Nature, whose 
 thought gives them form, and whose life flows over into 
 them as each may contain it ? If Jehovah is the I Am, 
 is Existence, is not Existence Jehovah ? And if all this 
 inconceivable mass of life, from the lowest form to the 
 highest, from the beginning until now, is the effluence of 
 God's life, is it not arithmetic which tells us that man is 
 but a little fraction of the whole ? You have quoted 
 Scripture to me. Do you recall that it is anywhere said 
 that God repented him of any other work of his hands 
 except man ? And is not this anthropomorphic instinct, 
 which figures the Highest and the Whole by a human 
 likeness, and goes out to measure the universe by units 
 of its own stature, is it not this which has been the 
 essence of all superstition, hoodwinking the reason, de- 
 grading the religious nature ? I will not talk about my 
 creed. It may not be to-morrow what it is to-day ; but, 
 at any rate, it is not atheism or polytheism." 
 
 "It is pantheism, dear Walter, it is the temptation 
 of young and sensitive minds ; and we are, both of us, 
 clear beyond our depth."
 
 228 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DISTRACTION. 
 
 A LONG the slope of the Col de Forclaz, through 
 *- -^ the lonely hamlet of Trient, a short climb up and 
 across its narrow valley, and they came to the forest- 
 clothed shoulder of the mountain. Backward and for- 
 ward, up the steep zigzags, they toiled for two miles ; 
 and as the dwindling forest gave place to heath-covered 
 rocks, they became aware that their sky also had 
 changed. Gray masses of cloud, with here and there 
 a drooping fringe, were scudding rapidly from the 
 south, and large flakes of moist snow began to fall. 
 Thicker and faster they came, until the ground was 
 entirely covered, and the path could hardly be discov- 
 ered. The guide bade them follow him closely ; for 
 the snow fell so fast that his footprints were quickly 
 filled. Whoever should stray from the path would lose 
 sight of it and his comrades at once. It was already 
 four o'clock, and the Col was still far away. The rude 
 wind swept the snow in their faces, and made their 
 wraps heavy and uncomfortable. The horses stag- 
 gered and stumbled, and the guide began to look 
 grave.
 
 DISTRACTION. 229 
 
 " How much farther is it to the top ? " asked Walter, 
 after a while. 
 
 " I cannot see any landmarks," said the guide ; " but it 
 must be still a mile. We shall be late at Argentiere, if 
 indeed we get there at all." 
 
 " Is there any doubt about our getting there ? " asked 
 Walter hastily. 
 
 " I hope not," said the guide. " No one can tell what 
 we may find beyond the summit." 
 
 " Do you think, then, that perhaps we shall be forced 
 to turn back ? " 
 
 " Possibly, but not yet. There will still be time to re- 
 turn to Trient half an hour later ; and before that time 
 the storm may pass over. But you are getting very wet, 
 monsieur." 
 
 " Oh, do let us push on ! It is no worse to move than 
 to stand." 
 
 So forward they stumbled for half an hour more, when 
 the guide said cheerily, " We are near the Col. This 
 brook, crossing the path, is just below the last pitch." 
 
 At that moment a gust of wind tore a lane through the 
 driving scud, and revealed on the ridge above them a 
 solitary building, used sometimes as an inn, but now aban- 
 doned for the season. A few moments of redoubled 
 effort placed them, wet and breathless, under the lee of 
 its protecting wall. This was the summit, from which 
 the grand view promised by the baron was to have 
 been seen ; but before, behind, to right and left, only 
 whirling banks of snow and fog were visible. 
 
 The house was closed and fastened, and Walter said,
 
 230 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " It will never do to stand here, cold and wet, in this gale 
 of wind." 
 
 The guide demurred. The horses, he said, were ex- 
 hausted ; they must rest for half an hour in the shed ; 
 it was impossible for them to move yet. 
 
 " How far is it to Argentiere ? " asked Helen. 
 
 " About four miles," answered the guide. 
 
 " Is the path plain ? " 
 
 " Yes, for the first mile ; after that it is very confused, 
 because of the many cattle-tracks which cross it, and the 
 beds of 'dry streams." 
 
 " Miss Dysart," said Walter, " you will both get your 
 deaths of cold if you stand here, and you could not be 
 any wetter than you are. Had we not better walk on, 
 and let the guide follow ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so, Walter. 'T is a blind venture, but 
 we '11 try it." 
 
 The guide led them to the brow of the ridge, and 
 pointed out the path. The ladies double-reefed their 
 skirts and retied their hats. Fortunately, what had been 
 snow on the crest and on the north side of the mountain 
 had on the south been partly rain, and the path was not 
 so heavily covered. Over the sodden and spongy 
 ground, into and over the rivulets which streamed from 
 the springy hillside, careless any longer of wet or dirt, 
 the party plunged down the path. They had gone a 
 mile in this way, when Helen cried, " Surely it is getting 
 lighter, Walter." 
 
 Below, toward the valley, everything was still dark and 
 impenetrable ; but overhead the mist was thinner, whiter,
 
 DISTRACTION. 2$ I 
 
 and filled with a diffused sunlight. Just then came a 
 gust of lifting wind, and as they stood with upturned 
 faces, in one instant the veil rolled away; and right 
 above their heads, like shafts of golden fire streaming 
 up into the infinite blue heaven, rose the Aiguille Verte 
 and the Aiguille-d'-Or. 
 
 Overpowered by a glory so sudden and supreme, 
 they sank upon a rock by the wayside. Ever after in 
 memory Helen compared that vision to the opening 
 heavens and the golden pinnacles of the Celestial City 
 in the Revelation. The serenity of the upper sky 
 spread downward to the lower air ; and in the light of 
 glittering rain-drops on beds of Alpine roses, and to the 
 music of the cow-bells of the returning herds, they went 
 gayly down to Argentiere. The walk had warmed them, 
 and no mischief followed the exposure. 
 
 The next day was spent in excursions, and evening 
 brought them to Chamouny, where they found Mrs. Dy- 
 sart, the baroness, and the baron already arrived. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart could not speak warmly enough of the 
 eare and consideration shown her by her companions, or 
 of the charm which their perfect knowledge of locali- 
 ties had given to the journey. " I was never conscious of 
 my wants," she said, " until I found them all provided for." 
 
 Helen hastened to the baroness's room, who received 
 her with eager and tremulous fondness. 
 
 " Darling," she said, " you don't know how I have 
 missed you ! For three whole days I have wanted your 
 presence, your voice, yourself, so full of every good 
 thing for me. Do sit down, and let me look at you."
 
 232 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " And let me," said Helen, as she sat down, " let me 
 thank you for your great kindness to my other mother. 
 After you were gone, I realized how strange it was that 
 I should have been willing to allow you to take my place 
 and do my work for me. It shows how much I believe 
 in your goodness ; and I am as much obliged to you as 
 Mrs. Dysart is. She has just been telling me how very 
 pleasant you made everything for her." 
 
 "Then I must tell you," said the baroness, " how very 
 pleasant it was to do so, and how entertaining and de- 
 lightful she was in every way. She seemed perfectly 
 well ; don't you think she looks so ? " 
 
 " Yes ; she has improved very much since we left 
 Paris ; and I think the summer in Switzerland will re- 
 store her to perfect health." 
 
 " Did you enjoy your trip across the mountains ? " 
 
 ' Very much," replied Helen. There was one hour, 
 coming down from the Col de Balme, which was worth a 
 month of ordinary life." 
 
 " That young Mr. Audran is very good company, is he 
 not ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is a nice fellow, modest, manly, and con- 
 siderate, as well as amusing. He took very good care 
 of us." 
 
 " Does he soon go to Heidelberg ? " 
 
 " He has not spoken of his plans. The term begins 
 in October, I think. He will not need to go very 
 soon." 
 
 " And what does he say of his brother ? " 
 
 " Nothing. He has heard nothing from him. In
 
 DISTRACTION. 233 
 
 fact, it is hardly time to expect a letter, written from 
 New York." 
 
 " You know, dearest, I am waiting in hope you will 
 all promise me a visit at Hohentauben ; and in that 
 case Mr. Audran must come with you. I shall make 
 him understand how glad we shall be to welcome him 
 there." 
 
 "If we go, I hope he will. Mamma likes to have 
 Eugene with him. It is beautiful to see how quick and 
 far-reaching his thoughts are." 
 
 "Yes," said the baroness, "there is nothing so beauti- 
 ful as youth, unworn, unsoiled, full of high thoughts, 
 ruled by conscience, and constantly growing in power." 
 
 Helen went over and threw her arms aboflt her 
 mother's neck and kissed her, as she replied, "I think 
 there is one thing more rare and lovely still, and that is 
 an age which redeems the errors of a misguided youth, 
 and makes its troubled waters clear and sweet. It is 
 you, dear mother." 
 
 The tears dropped from the baroness's downcast eyes 
 as she leaned her head against Helen's breast and mur- 
 mured, " It is so sweet to hear that from you ! But that 
 is no reason why I should spoil your dress, darling," 
 raising her head, "when I would rather adorn it. I 
 strayed along the Tour de 1'Isle night before last, to find 
 some little gift for my daughter, and here it is." 
 
 She took from the table a case containing a brooch. 
 It was a disk about the size of a half-dollar, and seemed 
 made all of precious stones, an outer circle of pure 
 liquid aquamarines enclosing an inner circle of fine
 
 234 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 opals, whose clouded fire gathered round one large and 
 perfect pearl set high above and within them. 
 
 " Oh, lovely ! " said Helen. " You know just what 
 pleases me, and so does the man who made that." 
 
 The baroness blushed as she said, " The baron se- 
 lected that pearl and ordered it set in the middle of the 
 circlet. He thinks you are a pearl of price, Helen." 
 
 It was Helen's turn to blush now, as she answered, 
 "He is very kind, and his taste in jewels is certainly 
 perfect." 
 
 " How pleased he will be to have you think so ! " said 
 Madame Waldeyer, " and I am pleased too ; but, Helen, 
 it is no part of my plan to commend him to you, and I 
 am a traitor for telling you of his share in the brooch." 
 
 " Very amiable treachery, I am sure," said Helen. 
 " But, mother, about our going to Hohentauben. I don't 
 think my father would object or regret, but " 
 
 " You mean, dear, will the world respect the wife and 
 daughter if they accept hospitality from the woman who 
 abandoned the father and deserted the child. Perhaps 
 the world might not ; but, Helen, the world is not 
 your arbiter. You do not measure or desire to measure 
 your steps to its music. There is a world beyond and 
 above what we call the world, a world of men and 
 women whose better and gentler wisdom you admire, 
 whose loftier example you revere. ' Blessed are the 
 merciful ! ' Would Jesus and Mary and Augustine and 
 Beatrice and Fenelon and Madame Guyon wonder at or 
 reprove an act which looked above the level of the 
 hour ? You do not care for a world which has no con-
 
 DISTRACTION. 235 
 
 sistency with itself. If you were poor and insignificant, 
 it might blame you. Being what you are, it will be 
 quick to find good reasons for what you do. So much 
 for your world ; as for mine, I have none. There is 
 no one before whom I need to vindicate a position which 
 has never been questioned ; no one to whom I wish to 
 display you. At my house you will see nobody except 
 my servants. I am as weak and as human as the rest 
 of my kind, no doubt, but my weakness does not lie in 
 that direction. I do not ask your mother and yourself 
 to come to me that I may mend my reputation by aid 
 of your charity. I feel deeply that only there where I 
 have lived can you fairly judge whether (if in the cir- 
 cumstances of the case you have found any apology for 
 my act toward your father) the course of my life since 
 has been such as would make me unfit for your love and 
 society. You cannot be deceived ; you will not be 
 beguiled. My motives are before you, and you must 
 judge them. 
 
 " You said just now that I knew how to please you, 
 Helen, dearest ; and why not ? You are part of me ; 
 your being is of mine ; your pure mind and heart are 
 my conscience. I must have absolution of it, there 
 is none other worth my asking. But don't imagine that 
 I want to control your life. Far from it. I want you 
 to control mine. I have always been controlled. Al- 
 exandre just absorbed me in himself, and life for me 
 was always best and fullest when it flowed freely in the 
 current of his'life. I know well enough that we cannot 
 or may not always live together. Parents who have
 
 236 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 better claim than I do not expect or wish to have their 
 children always with them. Alice told me truly, if 
 severely, that I had lost my opportunity for that. What 
 nature appoints I can or I must accept. I will 'submit 
 to be parted from my daughter when some one comes 
 to claim her, when she is drawn away by another and 
 more compelling love. What I cannot submit to is that 
 my thoughts may not follow her ; that they may not rise 
 like hers to compass all the events of her life ; that hers 
 shall not come back to penetrate my own. Go, Helen, 
 to any career which you propose ; but let my time, purse, 
 talent if I have any, go with you and help you on your 
 way ; and when you claim the congratulation of your 
 friends for your success, believe that mine will come 
 from the broadest, nearest, proudest interest which any 
 human heart can feel for you ; or if, perchance, disap- 
 pointment, weariness, sorrow, or repulse should come to 
 you, let me be with you in the cloud and in the fire." 
 
 " You are so intense, mother ; when you begin to talk 
 in this way, you overpower me." 
 
 " I know that I am, dear ; but, don't you understand, 
 if all were fixed and accepted with us, it would not be 
 so ? When I begin to think of losing you, or of never 
 gaining you, it makes me so fierce and unhappy that I 
 become wordy and tiresome. I hear the baron's step. 
 Shall I bid him come in--? " 
 
 " Pray do," said Helen. " I was hoping to see him 
 too." 
 
 " Ah ! you here, Miss Dysart ? This is an unexpected 
 pleasure."
 
 DISTRACTION. 237 
 
 " Yes I came to thank both you and Madame Wal- 
 deyer for your care of- Mrs. Dysart. It was a kindness 
 that we could not have asked, that you should give 
 up the pleasure of the trip across the mountains to do 
 escort duty for an invalid, and make the journey so 
 charming to her, though it was not new to yourselves. 
 When we were caught in that driving storm, and had to 
 stumble on in the dark and on foot, I felt how wise as 
 well as kind you had been in dissuading my mother 
 from the attempt." 
 
 "My dear Miss Dysart, your mother would not have 
 been caught in any such storm. I should not have 
 advised her to go by the Col de Balme. We should 
 have all crossed together by the Tete Noire. There was 
 no storm here in Chamouny ; so, probably, there was very 
 little there, and you would have had carriage all the way. 
 But we enjoyed the journey as much as Mrs. Dysart. 
 Every time I cross the Lake of Geneva, it seems to me 
 more beautiful than ever before." 
 
 " Is it so beautiful, then ? " said Helen. 
 
 " Exquisitely so, and rich in history and associations as 
 well, so many famous names of places and persons are 
 identified with its shores. Chillon, Montreux, Clarens, 
 Vevay, Lausanne, Fernex, Coppet, Geneva, Byron, 
 Ludlow, Gibbon, Voltaire, Madame de Stael, Rousseau, 
 Calvin, what names are these ! And is there in the 
 world a drive more beautiful than that through the val- 
 ley of the Arve, between Geneva and Chamouny? Mrs. 
 Dysart said that she believed the drop-curtains of all 
 the theatres in the world had been suggested by that
 
 238 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 scenery ; and the Lake of Como. I hope you had some 
 pleasure, in spite of the storm." 
 
 Then Helen told the story of their journey, until it 
 was time to separate. 
 
 The party spent a week at Chamouny, in the usual 
 excursions, and then returned to Geneva, where they 
 found this letter from Julia to Helen awaiting them : 
 
 GLENWOOD, July 23. 
 
 DEAR HELEN, Father and Mr. Audran have just 
 gone to the nine o'clock train, and the house and all in 
 it are quiet as the grave, except myself, and I am 
 so excited that I feel as though I should never be quiet 
 again. To go back to the beginning, your last, from 
 Lucerne, of the 28th of June, written just as you were 
 starting on an excursion with the Audrans, was received 
 on the 1 5th of July. I don't know why it was so long 
 on the way. We knew nothing more of you until yester- 
 day morning, when father sent up the letters which Mr. 
 Audran brought, with the message that Mr. Audran him- 
 self would come up with him in the evening. You can 
 imagine what an afternoon I had of it, all by myself. I 
 was wrought up to such a pitch that I could hardly wait 
 until supper was over before attacking Mr. Audran ; and 
 then, to my surprise and disgust, I found that he, like the 
 rest of you, was determined to think and speak well of 
 the baroness and her claim. I suppose it must be all 
 right, if you agree together to consider it so ; but it 
 seems a strange thing to me to find myself at odds with 
 all my family because I can't approve of a woman who
 
 DISTRACTION. 239 
 
 left my father to elope with a Frenchman, and aban- 
 doned his daughter at six weeks of age to the tender 
 mercies of strangers, and who now returns, nearly thirty 
 years after, to plunder the family which she has out- 
 raged. 
 
 I can't trust myself to write to you at present, lest I 
 should indulge in some such tirade as that which made 
 father send me to bed last night, and, I dare say, left Mr. 
 Audran with the impression that I was a she-dragon or a 
 termagant or anything else that is awful. 
 
 Well, either I am very queer, or you all are ; and upon 
 my word, I am in doubt which it is. And, I must say, 
 neither do I like your Mr. Audran altogether. He is 
 very reserved, and not at all disposed to be frank with 
 regard to himself and you. I know, as well as though 
 he had said so, that before coming away he asked you to 
 marry him. If you said Yes, it would be no more than 
 natural that he should rave about you, but he did n't ; 
 and if you said No, I may venture to add that he seemed 
 in a very complacent frame of mind for a rejected lover. 
 The only solution of the enigma is, that you said both 
 Yes and No ; and that is what puzzles me most, that 
 you, who have such lofty notions about plain-dealing 
 with lovers, should do it. It is a great piece of assur- 
 ance in him, I think, to imagine you could be willing to 
 leave New York, and follow him out to Colorado, where 
 he gives his energies to multiplying calves and lambs. 
 Father takes to him wonderfully ; and I suppose I ought 
 to forgive everything to a man who has saved your life, 
 and captivated your fancy at a week's notice. Still, I am
 
 240 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 very much mistaken if, after the glamour of that esca- 
 pade in the mountains wears off, you do not feel that 
 you have made a mistake, and regret that you were not 
 more decided in your answer. 
 
 Mr. Audran said, when I was asking him about the 
 baroness, that he fancied she would like to marry you to 
 the baron, brother of her other baron. Well, if there 
 is to be any marrying at all, I can imagine that a dis- 
 tinguished soldier, with a title and a castle and a good 
 estate and a seat in the French parliament, might please 
 my difficult sister who is not without her ambitions 
 better than a cow-driver from Heaven knows where. 
 We could come out and visit you sometimes, perhaps, 
 if my lord deigned to speak us fair. O Helen, this 
 is really dreadful of me, I know, and I ought to wait 
 until I have seen Mr. Audran again. I admit that 
 he is handsome, if that is any amends. He is coming 
 up with father again to-night, but as the steamer day 
 is to-morrow I can't leave my letter open for second 
 impressions. 
 
 Well, I have blown off my spleen, and will write by 
 Saturday's steamer, and perhaps take it all back; at 
 any rate, I won't scold you any more. Even if you 
 care for this provokingly reserved gentleman, you will 
 forgive your sister who in any event is your /ia/f-s(s- 
 ter; you can't get rid of that for being a little impa- 
 tient over so much worriment and mystery. Oh, how I 
 should like to know just how you all feel about it now ! 
 I shall write next to mother. Love to her, to Eugene, 
 
 and to Alice. 
 
 Your affectionate JULIA.
 
 DISTRACTION. 241 
 
 Helen read her letter eagerly, and, though vexed, 
 could not help laughing over it. She handed it to Mrs. 
 Dysart with the comment, " That is Julia all through " ; 
 and Mrs. Dysart, having read it, added, " Yes, that is 
 Julia. She does not check her feelings or measure her 
 words. It is evident that your father has not spoken to 
 her as he did to us about the baroness. She does not 
 understand that the one bad act of her life was done 
 when she was out of her mind and not responsible, 
 and that in everything else she is so much better and 
 more interesting than most women. Helen, has Madame 
 Waldeyer ever intimated any such plan as this which 
 Julia speaks of ? I don't quite like Mr. Audran's sug- 
 gesting it to her." 
 
 " No, mother, never. She has hinted that the baron 
 thinks highly of me ; that is all." 
 
 " I can very well understand Julia's perplexity about 
 your relations to Mr. Audran/' went on Mrs. Dysart, 
 " for I am perplexed myself. You have not been frank 
 with me on that subject, Helen." 
 
 " Do you think that I ought to repeat anything that 
 Mr. Audran may have said to me alone, in confi- 
 dence ? " 
 
 "I think that a man who offers himself to a lady 
 should expect that her friends would be informed of 
 the fact." 
 
 "Well, then, mamma, Mr. Audran told me that his 
 circumstances did not allow him to marry at present, 
 and that our acquaintance had not been long enough to 
 warrant him in making such a suggestion to me." 
 
 16
 
 242 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 "I call that a remarkably uncivil communication. 
 Declines with thanks ! I don't wonder he went off 
 without speaking to anybody the next morning, and 
 has not written to anybody since. I hope you defined 
 your position as clearly as he seems to have defined 
 his." 
 
 " Now don't misunderstand me, please, mother. What 
 Mr. Audran meant to say, and what he did say, was 
 that his position at present was not such as he would 
 dare offer me, and that he would not venture to ask my 
 opinion of himself on such short acquaintance. That 
 was his purpose when he came to the interview, I 
 know, for he told me so, and I respect him for it. 
 Later perhaps because I took no pains to conceal the 
 fact that I am interested in him, perhaps because I may 
 in some way have made him think that it was my wish 
 that he should do so he did offer himself to me, and 
 I told him that I certainly would not accept any offer 
 which it had not been his deliberate intention to make. 
 So he went away with every right to suppose that he 
 might come again whenever he pleased. There, mother, 
 that is the plain history. I did not think it a thing to be 
 published, but I don't like to be reproached for conceal- 
 ment. Of course it is not publishing it to tell it to you, 
 but I should not wish to have Mr. Audran's name ban- 
 died about with mine." 
 
 " Well, Helen, it is a matter of taste and opinion, but 
 I should have thought better of him for not backing 
 and filling in that way, and I have a prejudice in favor 
 of a man who does not go beyond the limits of ordinary
 
 DISTRACTION. 243 
 
 pleasant social intercourse until he is prepared to follow 
 up one step with another." 
 
 " It is very evident, mother, that we think differently 
 about Mr. Audran, and yet your words disturb me. You 
 know I am not in the habit of seeking more than what 
 you call ordinary pleasant social intercourse with any- 
 body. You have been impatient with me sometimes 
 because you thought me, as you said, ' inaccessible and 
 fastidious,' and wondered that I was not more eager for 
 some other home than my father's house. You have 
 made me very happy there, and I thank you and love 
 you for it ; but now, when the discovery comes that I 
 have only half a right there, that perhaps my presence 
 threatens the peace, the position, and the resources of 
 the family, that it would be relief from a burden if I 
 found an independent home for myself, when I am 
 troubled and in doubt, comes this gentleman, with the 
 culture of a scholar and the record of a gallant and 
 trustworthy man, pleasing me more, suiting me better, 
 than any other man ever did, but hesitating to ask any- 
 thing of me, as I fully believe, out of his great modesty 
 and respect. He sees me looking anywhere, everywhere, 
 for some way out of my great perplexity, and in his ten- 
 der care for me he says, Will you take the little help 
 I can give ? It stings me sorely that you should speak 
 so scornfully of his embarrassment and mine. I have 
 no right to doubt your motive, and I do not; but I 
 think, knowing me as you do, you should believe that I 
 am trying to choose the path which shall be best for all 
 who love and care for me, and am willing to accept
 
 244 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 almost any sacrifice for myself, rather than your com- 
 fort or your happiness should be endangered." 
 
 Never before had Mrs. Dysart seen Helen so much 
 roused. Her cheek was flushed, her eyes glittered, 
 form- and feature were instinct with the purpose to keep 
 her own destiny and her own dignity in her own hands ; 
 and Mrs. Dysart did not dare to put another fraction of 
 pressure upon her. 
 
 " Dear Helen, be calm ! " she said. " We trust you 
 entirely, all of us. Do what is right in your own eyes, 
 and we will all stand or fall with you. I am not going 
 to say one word more about Mr. Audran. Happily 
 you are under no pledge to him. But listen : I have 
 had a much better chance to study Baron Waldeyer 
 than ever I had to study Mr. Audran, and I cannot see 
 that in any respect he is less worthy or less interesting. 
 No one could be more courteous or more helpful than 
 he has been ever since we met. And who is he ? A 
 senator of France, a commander of the Legion of Hon- 
 or, heir of an honored name and a fine estate. He and 
 all he is and has are coming straight to your feet. It will 
 be in your power to distinguish yourself and your family 
 by a splendid alliance, and to convert this perplexity, 
 which is so threatening for all of us, into eclat, fortune, 
 distinction for us all. I am sure that this is so, and that 
 over this loyal, tender, and heroic man you can have all 
 the influence which any woman ever had over any man. 
 Madame Waldeyer has told us what a husband his 
 brother was, and I am sure that the baron would in 
 like manner be to you all that a husband need be. I
 
 DISTRACTION. 24$ 
 
 see in such an event great good for all of us, but most 
 of all for you. Your happiness is my first consideration 
 in the matter. Pray, believe that." 
 
 Mrs. Dysart spoke with the firmness of conviction, 
 and it was not .without its influence upon Helen. 
 
 " Mother, dear mother, is not all this premature, a 
 fancy of your own ? Baron Waldeyer has shown noth- 
 ing but very great politeness toward me, and that is suf- 
 ficiently explained by his affection for his sister. She 
 gave me a beautiful turquoise the other day, you know 
 the turquoise turns yellow whenever a lie is near, and 
 a little after she said that it was no part of her purpose 
 to commend the baron to me." 
 
 " I dare say that is true," said her mother. " She has 
 said nothing whatever to me on the subject ; but I know 
 his admiration for you is perfectly spontaneous and sin- 
 cere, and just as well I know that such a tie would 
 make her happy as nothing else could. Now, dear 
 Helen, we will not talk more just now ; but think well 
 of it, and be ready with your answer when he comes 
 to plead for himself, as he certainly will." 
 
 " I will think of it. Good-night, mamma." 
 
 The baron meanwhile had been taking an evening 
 tour of the shops, one result of which Helen found on 
 her table when she reached her room. In a case of 
 white vellum was a thin folio volume, bound in the finest 
 tree-calf, with tracery of gold upon the borders. The 
 volume contained forty large octavo photographs of the 
 scenes which she had visited under the guidance of 
 the baron, Interlaken, Miirren, the Wengern Alp, the
 
 246 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 ice-cairn of Grindelwald, and others, and this note, bear- 
 ing the crest and monogram of the Waldeyers : 
 
 Will Miss Dysart accept these souvenirs of the past 
 month, as an acknowledgment of the great pleasure 
 which her society has conferred upon 
 
 ADOLPHE DE WALDEYER. 
 
 No imaginable gift from him could have pleased Hel- 
 en more, and as she turned the pages she said, " This 
 will be a treasure forever, but, oh dear! oh dear! 
 what shall I do ? " 
 
 With all her heart she wished that Robert had written. 
 He might have done so, she thought, in all those long 
 days upon the steamer, or since reaching New York. 
 If he had started on his five days' journey into the heart 
 of the continent without writing, eighteen or twenty days 
 more must pass before his letter could reach her. And 
 here was the baron, about to open siege on the lone for- 
 tress of her heart, supported by her two mothers, her 
 father, and, for a wonder, Julia ; and her only ally had 
 been silenced and sent away to the other side of the 
 world. Was not all that her mother had said, in favor 
 of the baron, true ? 
 
 They were going to visit the baroness, Mrs. Dysart 
 was resolved upon it. Helen felt that the crisis of her 
 fate was coming. Why was Mr. Audran so silent ? Was 
 he also conscious of a reaction after what Julia had 
 called " the glamour of a mountain escapade " ? Did 
 he think their late episode might as well be forgotten 
 for a time ? Must she wait his time ?
 
 DISTRACTION. 
 
 She smiled, and she sighed too, as before her dressing- 
 glass she unrobed her round white shoulders and dimpled 
 arms ; and she said to the fair reflection, half aloud, 
 " Indeed, I ought to belong to some man, and some 
 man ought to belong to me. It is a sin against nature 
 for me to be an old maid."
 
 248 MA NUELA 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN COLORADO. 
 
 TV/TR- "ROBERT AUDRAN and Mr. James Dunphy 
 **- had alike decided to go over the Atchison, To- 
 peka, and Sante F Railway, which, at the date of our 
 story, was about to open for travel the section of the 
 road which enters Pueblo from the east. Each had 
 been assured at Kansas City that the road was already 
 open to that point. The fact, however, was that a 
 trestle two miles east of the town had broken under its 
 first trial, and that trains could not go over it. Ignorant 
 of this fact, Mr. Audran and Mr. Dysart, on the even- 
 ing of the 27th of July, left Kansas City, and Mr. Dunphy 
 still had the start of them by twelve hours. 
 
 All next day they rolled over the endless swells and 
 swales of the prairie, keeping the flat and sharp-cut 
 banks of the Arkansas River in sight. Far as eye could 
 reach, on the southern upland, great herds of cattle were 
 feeding ; here and there a solitary herder urged his wiry 
 Mexican pony up the long green slope, the lariat hang- 
 ing in heavy loops from his saddle-bow. All about 
 them was the limitless, undulating plain, with now and 
 then a break where the yellow limestone shelved off to 
 a lower level. Rarely did a sign of human life appear
 
 IN COLORADO. 249 
 
 except alongside the track, where an occasional gang of 
 laborers stood leaning on their spades as the train went 
 hurtling by, a cluster of their grimy tents standing in the 
 background. Now and then a convoy of canvas-covered 
 wagons was seen creeping over the monotonous green 
 distance. Here and there, on the far horizon, a pale 
 blue smoke showed that fire, first and most manifold of 
 human tools, was at work. A tew white-bellied antelopes 
 were feeding in some hollow of the sward, or a prairie- 
 dog village was passed, where the gophers sat atop of a 
 little mound of yellow earth, and dived into their bur- 
 rows as the train sped through. Occasionally a mound 
 of white rose on the sere surface, where the skeletons of 
 buffalo lay bleaching in the constant sun and infrequent 
 rains. At long intervals, on the margin of some shallow, 
 winding valley, where the wash of the spring rains ran 
 down to the Arkansas, stood the sod-walled and sod- 
 roofed hut of the homesteader, and planted about it the 
 sweet-briar, the morning glory, the scarlet creeper, or 
 the sunflower, showing that the rudest life still counts 
 among its necessities some token of grace and beauty. 
 A little after noon, at a station, the telegraph reported 
 that the train in advance of their own was off the track, 
 from spreading of the newly laid rails. A wrecking 
 party had gone forward on a hand-car to its aid, and 
 their own train must wait until the way was clear. The 
 passengers, now very few, got off, to pass the weary 
 interval as best they might. They were told that the 
 locomotive would give three successive whistles before 
 the start. Robert proposed to Mr. Dysart that they 
 should walk forward.
 
 250 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " As well walk forward as any way," replied Mr. 
 Dysart. " One mile of this country is as like any other 
 mile as one section of railroad track is like the next. 
 It is more same and wearisome than the sea. Life here 
 would be unendurable." 
 
 " And yet," said Robert, " it is hardly more dull than 
 was northern Illinois when your life began. Your son 
 Eugene will live to see, all over this great American 
 desert, as it used to be called, thick-set towns, overhung 
 by smoke from factory chimneys, cheerful farm-houses 
 nestling in groves of trees, and railroad trains every- 
 where." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Mr. Dysart. " We cannot exactly 
 see what needs or what forces are to produce these 
 changes ; but if we wait long enough, there they are. 
 It is not our decree, but it comes about. Do you re- 
 member the closing couplet of Bryant's hymn for the 
 inauguration of the Centennial Exposition ? 
 
 ' Thou leadest man, wandering bold but blind, 
 To mighty ends not yet revealed.' " 
 
 " Yes," said Robert. " When I saw the peasants on 
 the Rhine, carrying earth in baskets to make a little 
 painful terrace where a vine might grow, or in the Alps, 
 clearing hollows in the rock to put in a handful of 
 barley, I thought of the miles of bountiful soil waiting 
 here, and calling for some one to come and till and reap. 
 And they will come, the Saxon, the Celt, and the 
 Scot ; the Teuton, the Finn, and the Pole ; the Sclav, 
 the Tuscan, and the Iberian, they will all come and
 
 IN COLORADO. 251 
 
 fuse themselves into the American, a race which 
 cannot but be the richest in collected powers and ger- 
 minal force which the world has ever seen. They are 
 the raw material, these new-comers, and the machineries 
 of republican freedom will transform them into a fabric 
 like our own." 
 
 " That is well said," added Mr. Dysart. " It is the 
 republic, the commonwealth, which assimilates them, 
 just as republican Rome assimilated the Samnites and 
 Volsci and Veii far more completely than did imperial 
 Rome the Gaul and the Dacian." 
 
 " And the thing which has been shall be," said Rob- 
 ert. " It makes little difference who lives or dies, who 
 reigns or administers : there will be centralizers and 
 communists, reformers and rings, zealots and sceptics, 
 vice that destroys and virtue that redeems ; but all the 
 time a rising level, a scheme in which one license curbs 
 another, and the multitude of minor conflicts prevents, 
 because it makes unnecessary, the greater revolutions 
 which must exist in a less elastic order of things. Hark ! 
 There are the three whistles. We must go back." 
 
 When' they passed over the scene of the disaster, they 
 were told that the other train was only half an hour in 
 advance of them. At half-past six they reached the end 
 of the route. The broken trestle was a mile ahead ; 
 beyond that, two miles farther, lay Pueblo. One by 
 one, in the course of the day, the passengers had dropped 
 off. Robert and Mr. Dysart only were proposing to 
 go beyond the construction camp where the track ceased. 
 This consisted of five or six freight or box cars, on a
 
 252 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 temporary siding, in which had been roughly fitted up 
 sleeping and eating accommodations for those in the 
 employ of the railroad company. A gang of some 
 thirty coarsely dressed men was lounging about them. 
 The prospect for a halt was uninviting, and Robert said 
 to Mr. Dysart, " We must get to Pueblo somehow, for 
 the night, if we can. I think it can be done." And he 
 went to reconnoitre. 
 
 On the skirts of the crowd, a large sombrero pulled 
 well down over his eyes, was Mr. James Dunphy, who 
 had arrived half an hour earlier, and now recognized 
 with alarm Mr. Dysart and Robert as they descended 
 from the train. For him there was but one explanation 
 of their presence : they were on his track, and would be 
 at Mohler and David's mine to-morrow, having with 
 them a sheriff for his special benefit. He had a great 
 respect for Mr. Audran's powers, which had twice before 
 exposed and thwarted him. Dark thoughts came into 
 his evil brain ; he skulked behind a car, and watched 
 the movements of the pair. 
 
 Robert hunted up the foreman of the construction 
 party, and learned that a horse, and a rude wagon made 
 for prairie driving, was obtainable, and that it was per- 
 fectly practicable to follow a track made by teams, along 
 the side of the railway, into the town of Pueblo. The 
 wagon would carry two, and only two ; and Robert made 
 a bargain for the use of it, and for its return from 
 Pueblo in the morning. Then he went, back with the 
 news to Mr. Dysart. It would be nearly an hour before 
 they could start, he explained, as the horse had to be
 
 IN COLORADO. 253 
 
 brought in from the prairie and have a feed of grain ; 
 but the drive would not take more than an hour, so that 
 they would be housed in Pueblo by nine o'clock. It 
 was not yet eight of the summer evening, but night was 
 closing in still and dark after a hot day. 
 
 " We may get wet," said Robert, as he glanced at the 
 piling thunder-clouds which climbed the sky above the 
 ridge of the Rocky Mountains just before them. " Our 
 thunder-showers here are sometimes very sharp and 
 sudden. What do you say to that, Mr. Dysart ? " 
 
 " Oh, so far as I am concerned, I would rather be 
 out all night than shut up with that rough crowd in such 
 a vile place as this. Let us go ahead, by all means." 
 
 " All right, my dear sir ; only if you should happen 
 to get a taste of one of our cyclones, you will remember 
 it, I can assure you." 
 
 Jim Dunphy, who had seen Robert at the stables, or 
 shanty used for that purpose, had easily divined his 
 purpose, even without the assistance of the groom, who 
 informed him that two gentlemen were going to drive 
 Captain Talbot's mare into Pueblo, and put her up at 
 the Chico stables. 
 
 " If they get there, that is," muttered Mr. Dunphy. 
 " They might get struck by lightning, or something else, 
 first." He thought of the repeating-rifle which David 
 had instructed him to bring from Chicago. 
 
 " I '11 let that damned Pharisee know that he don't 
 smash my shoulders with a stone and cut my ear with a 
 bullet for nothing," he meditated. " It 's my turn to shoot 
 now, with something to be depended on. A revolver is
 
 254 MANUEL A PA REDES. 
 
 handy enough in a scrimmage, but it ain't like a long- 
 range rifle, calibre 45, and sixteen balls in the breech." 
 He looked carefully at his gun, and then walked rapidly 
 up the track. 
 
 It was already very dark when Robert and Mr. Dysart 
 started. The heat-lightning was flashing vividly in the 
 northwest, and by its glow the solemn forms of the great 
 mountains, from the two Spanish Peaks in the south to 
 the black Chian in the north, were outlined. They had 
 not accomplished the first mile when the gathering 
 storm thickened about them. Far away in the hills 
 they heard its roar, as they tore along the road, blinded 
 and dazzled by the lightning, which now seemed rather 
 to blaze than to flash ; wreaths and scrolls of flame 
 seemed to dance upward from the ground around them, 
 and to sweep and sway along the surface. 
 
 They were just at the entrance of a ravine, which de- 
 scended toward the river along a little stream. On the 
 right and above them was a limestone shelf, at times re- 
 ceding from and at times approaching the road ; on the 
 left a grassy meadow, running up to the low bluff. The 
 mare was restive ; she seemed terribly frightened, and 
 began to rear and plunge ; then, as the rain swept down 
 in a flood borne on a whirlwind, she stopped short 
 and would not move, but threw her head wildly up, 
 snorted, and whinnied. Robert sprang to her head, 
 and, turning it from the blinding rain, held her fast 
 by the bridle. The glow of lightning was almost in- 
 cessant, and Mr. Dysart too got out and stood at the 
 other side of the beast. Jim Dunphy lay on the low
 
 IN COLORADO. 255 
 
 limestone bluff above, thirty yards to the right, rest- 
 ing his rifle on a pile of white stone. By the quick- 
 coming flashes he got and corrected his range, and that 
 range covered Robert, Mr. Dysart, and the head of the 
 horse between them. 
 
 " What 's that ? " cried Mr. Dysart, as a flash leaped 
 from the ground above, and something whizzed over 
 their heads. " Can it be lightning ? " 
 
 It was dark for a moment, then another blaze of 
 lightning showed the two men standing by the horse's 
 head. Again the flash sprang from the bluff and the 
 whizzing sound was heard. 
 
 " Clear the wagon and drop on the ground ! " said 
 Robert, in a quick, low tone. " Some rascal has got 
 rifle range on us." 
 
 Mr. Dysart flung himself off a few paces, and lay on 
 his face in the grass. Robert still stood at the horse's 
 head. Again the flash sprang from the ground, and a 
 slight sting on the shoulder told him that he was hit. 
 
 " The mare must take care of herself," thought he ; 
 and he threw himself in the grass, and, with slightly 
 raised head, scanned the knoll whence the flash came. 
 The rain-cloud had passed, but the lightning still blazed ; 
 and with the next flash Robert saw, not thirty yards away, 
 the gleam of a rifle-barrel over a pile of white stones, 
 and a man's head behind it. He crawled ten yards 
 one side, and lay still in the grass. What was to be 
 done ? Should he lie still until he was discovered, and 
 again fired upon ? There ! A blinding, quivering gleam 
 sprang into his eyes, a rattling, crashing sound struck
 
 256 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 through his head, and with it the flash of thought, 
 killed! 
 
 But a moment after, rolling in the wet grass and in 
 the darkness, bewildered, weak, he yet knew that he was 
 not killed ; for he heard the ripping rattle of the wagon, 
 as the mare wrenched herself out of the shafts, and 
 dashed away. He fixed his eyes on the white pile of 
 stones, and waited for the next flash. He did not see the 
 gleam of the rifle. Again. Still he did not see it. He 
 crept up through the weeds. Again, at ten yards, he saw 
 only a head and an outstretched arm. Quick as thought 
 he sprang toward the figure, and launched himself 
 prone upon it. No grasp tightened upon him. He had 
 seized and was holding in his clinch an unmoving form. 
 
 He drew himself back upon his knees ; and the next 
 glare of lightning showed beneath him a livid face and 
 frothing lips. He fumbled darkly at the chest for the 
 heart ; but ne beat was felt within. Then he called 
 loudly, "Dysart, come up here! He's dead! he's 
 dead ! " 
 
 So it was. The flash which had almost stunned Rob- 
 ert had leaped along that barrel of steel ; swiftly flowed 
 its fine wave through brain and marrow, and all was 
 over. 
 
 Drenched and dizzy, the two men kneeled over the 
 dead, and Robert exclaimed, with a shudder, " It is Jim 
 Dunphy, Mr. Dysart ; it is the man I drove away from 
 your house on the river. Thank God, he did not die by 
 my hand, nor you and I by his ! " 
 
 The lightning still flickered along the ragged and
 
 IN COLORADO. 257 
 
 drooping edges of the black clouds which were whirling 
 toward the southeast ; but through the breaking rift in 
 the north the scattered stars shone, and round them the 
 air was still, and full of spring-like odor. Far off and 
 faintly came the galloping tramp of the mare, as she 
 sped back to her stable ; and in another moment the 
 waning moon, which a month before had lighted Robert 
 on the crest of Mount Rigi, shone fitfully out of the 
 scattering clouds. 
 
 A shattered stock, parted from the barrel, was all that 
 was left of the gun which had carried their death in its 
 chambers ; and limp and flaccid lay the hand which had 
 covered the trigger. 
 
 " Merciful God ! " exclaimed Mr. Dysart, " what an 
 hour of wrath and retribution ! " 
 
 " Let us see if he had your papers on him," said Rob- 
 ert; and, thrusting his hand into the inside pocket of 
 Dunphy's vest, he drew forth a morocco wallet, the 
 same which had been snatched from Mr. Dysart's table 
 barely a week before. 
 
 In the misty moonlight Mr. Dysart recognized the pa- 
 pers, maps, and contract which had brought such peril to 
 him and such sudden doom to their holder. 
 
 " What are we to do next ? " he asked. 
 
 Robert thought a moment, and looked at his watch, 
 half-past nine. " That horse will be back in his stable 
 in ten minutes, and most likely a searching party will 
 be sent out for us in the course of an hour. We might 
 go to meet it. But that will keep us under watch and 
 in turmoil all night. I think we would better walk into 
 
 17
 
 258 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 Pueblo. From the shape of this ravine, we must be 
 near the basin in which the town stands." 
 
 " I agree with you," said Mr. Dysart. " We will leave 
 notice where we can be found to-morrow." 
 
 Robert tore a leaf from his pocket-book, and wrote as 
 follows : 
 
 " This man shot three times at us, at short range, in 
 the storm, and would have killed us, if a stroke of light- 
 ning had not killed him. We have gone on foot to the 
 Lindell House, Pueblo, where we can be seen to- 
 morrow. 
 
 " ROBERT AUDRAN, of Fountain, Col. 
 " ADRIAN DYSART, of New York." 
 
 Taking each his satchel from the overturned wagon, 
 the two friends went down to the mouth of the dark 
 ravine ; and there before them, not half a mile away, 
 shone the lights of Pueblo. 
 
 An hour later the loafers in the billiard-room of the 
 Lindell House were wondering who those swell fellows 
 could be who looked as if they had had such a devilish 
 good ducking. The prevailing opinion was that they 
 had strayed from the Government Survey in the South 
 Park. 
 
 Among the papers found in the pocket-book was a 
 letter from Mohler to Dunphy, promising him a fifth 
 interest in the mine, if he recovered the contract from 
 Mr. Dysart, and half the face-value of any notes recov- 
 ered with it.
 
 IN COLORADO. 259 
 
 Wet and weary as they were, there yet remained some- 
 thing for Messrs. Audran and Dysart to do. This was 
 to find a magistrate, make report of such facts as it 
 was necessary to communicate, and obtain assurance 
 that at daylight a guard should be placed over Dunphy's 
 remains, and an inquest held at nine o'clock. After this, 
 Robert telegraphed to his partner to expect him the next 
 day ; and Mr. Dysart arranged that Mohler and David 
 should be summoned to meet him at Mr. Audran's house 
 on the day after the morrow. 
 
 At the hour appointed for the inquest the sunlit bluff 
 where the body of Dunphy lay was crowded by men, 
 among whom were the foreman of the railroad camp, 
 the magistrate, coroner, phys'ician, and a number of citi- 
 zens summoned by the coroner. The doctor proceeded 
 to make his examination as an expert. No external 
 wound or bruise was found, except the partially healed 
 cut upon the left ear which had been made by Robert's 
 pistol at Glenwood, and a black and blue bruise from 
 the blow of the stone between his shoulders. The 
 body showed none of the rigidity which quickly follows 
 death ; an artery was opened in the arm, and a stream 
 of dark blood flowed from it ; the right eyeball was 
 burst and collapsed, and the brow and lashes singed or 
 burnt away. The physician pronounced that the man 
 had died by lightning, which probably had passed along 
 the barrel of his gun to the eye nearest the breech, and 
 so to the brain ; and the jury gave verdict in accordance 
 with this testimony. The magistrate released Mr. Au- 
 dran and Mr. Dysart from observation, and directed
 
 260 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 burial on the spot where the body lay ; and Robert and 
 his friend took the noon train for Fountain, twenty miles 
 northward from Pueblo. 
 
 " Have you any idea into what sort of a place you are 
 going when you go to my house ? " said Robert, as they 
 neared the end of their journey. 
 
 " No, my dear sir, I have not speculated upon the 
 subject in the least," said Mr. Dysart. 
 
 " I suppose," said Robert, " that a large proportion 
 of the inhabitants of this region would think it even 
 less attractive than that camp of which you said such 
 uncomplimentary things last night. There was some 
 life and stir there : there is only silence and solitude at 
 my home ; and the house in which I live would not rent 
 in the suburbs of New York for fifty dollars a year." 
 
 They were passing, as he spoke, through the little 
 hamlet of Fountain, twenty or thirty small houses clus- 
 tered about the railroad station:; and beyond, on the 
 hillside toward the east, Robert pointed out a low 
 building, draped with vines. "There is my house," 
 said he. 
 
 Mr. Dysart looked about him. They were in a val- 
 ley, the bottom of which was not more than half a mile 
 across. The western wall of this valley rose rapidly 
 into mountains, scantily clothed with dark and stunted 
 pines, the eastern climbed by irregular terraces to the 
 border of that great upland plain which slopes gradu- 
 ally from the Rocky Mountains to the Ozark Range of 
 Missouri, five hundred miles away. North and south, 
 far as the eye could reach, appeared the foothills of the
 
 IN COLORADO. 26l 
 
 Rocky Range. In the northwest, over the bold shoulder 
 of Chian Mountain, rose the vast cone of Pike's Peak, 
 bare and brown save for streaks of snow in its ravines ; 
 and dim in the southwest the Greenhorn and Sangue di 
 Christo Ranges and the blue, twin Spanish Peaks reared 
 their lofty heads. 
 
 " It is hard to- realize that those mountains are as 
 high or higher than Mont Blanc," said Mr. Dysart, " or 
 that the bottom of this valley where we stand is itself 
 higher than Mount Washington or any mountain east of 
 the Mississippi. There are none of the grand effects of 
 the Swiss mountains or the Mexican. Why are they not 
 covered with snow, as most high mountains are, even in 
 the tropics ? " 
 
 " They are for eight months in the year," replied 
 Robert ; " but never with such masses of snow as lie on 
 the Swiss mountains. Standing in this deep interior of 
 the continent, the winds which sweep up from the Pa- 
 cific drop their burden of water on the western or snowy 
 range, and those from the Gulf and the Atlantic are 
 lost and dried out in the vast sweep of arid country 
 over which they pass before they get to us. Our rain- 
 fall is only about a third as much as that of the Atlan- 
 tic coast. Rains and forests are the great lack here. 
 How they always go together, wood and water ! 
 Each generates and perpetuates the other. 
 
 "There is a specimen of what irrigation will do in 
 that wheat-field of mine," he went on, pointing to a field 
 of about ten acres on the slope beyond. " Do you see 
 on the upper edge a line which runs round the knolls
 
 262 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 northward toward the river? That is my ditch, in which 
 a clear stream is always flowing. It is hidden on the 
 upper border of this field by the growing grain. Once in 
 fifteen feet along the top of this field it is tapped, and a 
 thread of water from each breach runs down the slope 
 until absorbed by the thirsty soil. That field will yield 
 at least forty-five bushels to the acre, five times as 
 much as the Genesee valley yields, three times as much 
 as the Iowa prairie, twice as much as eastern Kansas ; 
 and the crop is sure because the conditions are certain. 
 The field is never to lack water and never to have ex- 
 cess, because the supply is exactly measured to its 
 needs. If the Lybian sands of Egypt have been one of 
 the world's granaries for four thousand years, by the aid 
 of irrigation, why should not ours become so as well ? 
 
 " Do you see that green hill which pushes into the 
 valley, a mile down there, and the buildings on it? 
 That is my new estate, Maritana. There you will 
 find a house somewhat better than this. But come in, 
 my dear sir, and' let us see what we can do for you." 
 
 The house was certainly plain enough, as Robert had 
 said. In its first estate it had been simply an oblong 
 box, twelve feet wide and twice as long, with a roof of 
 double pitch, making within one long, narrow room, 
 nine feet high, and a capacious attic overhead. On 
 either side of this Robert had bpilt a fiat-roofed addi- 
 tion, of equal width with the central portion, but not so 
 high, these additions extending somewhat farther toward 
 the rear. The whole was not unlike one of those 
 little wooden churches, with nave and transepts, which
 
 IN COLORADO. 263 
 
 are so common at seaside watering-places. Each addi- 
 tion was partitioned into two rooms. In the south 
 transept were Mr. Audran's quarters, in the north Mr. 
 Maxwell's, the middle building serving as a common 
 dining-room and office, being divided for that purpose 
 by a Japanese screen. 
 
 Robert's quarters were not unattractive. Bookcases, 
 shoulder high, ran round the sides of the sitting-room, 
 surmounted by bronzes, busts, and statuettes. A few 
 small paintings of some merit hung on the walls, and 
 every available space was filled with photographs, en- 
 gravings, and woodcuts. A Smyrna rug covered the 
 floor ; a Damascus hanging curtained the door into 
 his sleeping-room ; over the fireplace were the crossed 
 swords, the pistols, and the cap, of his military days. 
 Souvenirs of many lands, types of many races, and 
 relics of many eras had met to ornament this little 
 room upon the frontier. The nucleus of a library, in 
 law, history, classics, and science, stood on the shelves, 
 beside herd-books, turf-registers, dictionaries of the arts, 
 and the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The south window, 
 shaded by a deep awning, looked out over beds of 
 flowers to the green and misty plain. 
 
 " No, indeed," said Mr. Dysart, ' ' I did not know to 
 what sort of a place I was going. Your room here, 
 Mr. Audran, speaks of all space and all time ; and yet 
 I cannot see it without feeling, as my daughters do, 
 that the world of men, rather than the wilds of nature, 
 is your rightful home." 
 
 " So I once hoped," said Robert ; " but Providence
 
 264 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 closed that career for me with a ball through my lungs, 
 at Spottsylvania. I doubtless owe my life to the healing 
 of Nature here in her far and uncontaminated home. 
 When I came to Colorado, three years ago, I was a pale, 
 stooping invalid, unable to breathe without pain, and 
 with nerves which allowed little sleep and no intellect- 
 ual labor ; and now I feel my youth renewed. To live 
 was the first necessity with me then, and I could hardly 
 have found elsewhere a climate so restorative, or so 
 fair a road to fortune and to leisure, as I found here. 
 There is a fair amount of satisfaction, too, in my work. 
 If my irrigation methods prove a success, they will make 
 the population of this region possible ; a vast area of 
 fruitless soil will become productive ; the mining indus- 
 try of these hills will be made practicable by cheapened 
 supplies. Human use and profit, life and its rewards, 
 will be everywhere. You must see my Durhams and 
 Devons, and then you will know that when I make a 
 sale, I not only put money in my own purse, but am 
 starting improved breeds of cattle for others, to thrive 
 and increase after I am gone. So I am content here, 
 I have been, at least ; and if, by chance, when first I 
 walk Broadway, or sit in the library at Cambridge, I fall 
 to thinking of my life as one of exile, it is not long be- 
 fore I weary of drones and drudges and dolls, and am 
 ready to come back to mountains and plains, ditches 
 and cattle." 
 
 " I can understand it and believe it," said Mr. Dysart. 
 "And we who live in the world owe great thanks to 
 such as you, who start the streams of industry and trade
 
 IN COLORADO. 26$ 
 
 by which we live. The world needs just this work ; 
 and how could it be better done than by such as you, 
 who bring knowledge and inspiration to mould the des- 
 tinies of these new States ? " And the longer he stayed, 
 the more this feeling grew on Mr. Dysart. 
 
 About noon of the following day, Messrs. Mohler and 
 David made their appearance at the ranch, and found 
 Mr. Dysart awaiting them. Mohler came forward to 
 meet him, with apparent frankness and complacency. 
 " How are you, Mr. Dysart ? We were not expecting 
 to see you, but are glad of it, notwithstanding. How 
 comes it that you are out here ? " 
 
 " I had the opportunity of Mr. Audran's very good 
 company," said Mr. Dysart, " and I thought it was time 
 to see for myself about this mine. How are you get- 
 ting on ? " 
 
 " Well, fairly. We are two hundred and fifty feet on 
 the vein from the bottom of the incline, and have about 
 six hundred tons on the dump, that will go, perhaps, 
 $30 a ton, $20,000 in that* pile." 
 
 Mr. Mohler was careful not to say that the entire 
 product of the last month would average not less than 
 $200 to the ton. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Dysart, " that is a fair if not a great 
 return for your capital and labor. Mr. Mohler, do you 
 know a man named James Dunphy ? " 
 
 The partners exchanged a startled glance, but Mohler 
 answered promptly, " Yes ; he worked for us awhile, but 
 we discharged him a fortnight ago, and he left for New 
 York, I believe. Has he called upon you ? "
 
 266 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " Did you employ him to do any business for you in 
 New York ? " continued Mr. Dysart. 
 
 " I asked him to bring me a Winchester rifle when he 
 came back," said David. 
 
 " I have here a letter," continued Mr. Dysart, drawing 
 a paper from his pocket, " apparently from Mr. Mohler 
 to this Dunphy, offering him an interest of one fifth in 
 the mine in case he should recover the contract which 
 you made with me, and one half the face of any of your 
 notes recovered with it. Your agent, Dunphy, entered 
 my house at night, gagged and robbed me, and escaped 
 with all you bade him recover ; and not forty-eight 
 hours ago he shot at Mr. Audran and myself, and 
 would have killed us if he had not first been killed by a 
 stroke of lightning. You will find the details in this 
 morning's Pueblo paper, if they interest you. And now 
 I show you the contract, to recover which you have 
 twice put my life in danger, and that of Mr. Audran, 
 which is quite as valuable. Perhaps you had belter 
 retire and digest the situation before I hear from you. 
 I believe I have nothing more to say just now." 
 
 The two men, whom Mr. Dysart had not allowed to 
 sit down, became very unsteady on their feet, and went 
 out of the door without a word. 
 
 Mr. Dysart and Robert saw them go a little way 
 down the lawn, and sit down on a bank. In half 
 an hour they came back, and Mohler addressed Mr. 
 Dysart : 
 
 " Do you believe, sir, that we had a hand in any plan 
 for robbing and murder, or would have had anything to
 
 IN COLORADO. 267 
 
 do with Dunphy if we had known that he thought of 
 such a thing? " 
 
 " I do," said Mr. Dysart ;* " it looks to me very 
 like it." 
 
 " May I ask, then, what you intend to do about it ? " 
 said Mohler. 
 
 " You may," answered Mr. Dysart. " I intend to see 
 you punished, if not as you deserve, at least so far as 
 the law will admit." 
 
 " Surely, we can settle the matter on some terms, Mr. 
 Dysart," interposed David. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and the terms are these : I own seven 
 twelfths of your mine ; you, five. On the basis of my 
 investment, your share is worth ten thousand dollars ; 
 mine, fourteen. For the sum of two thousand dollars, 
 which I here show you, you are to give a deed of your 
 interest in the mine, and all the mining property of all 
 sorts, to Mr. Robert Audran. The sheriff will hold a 
 warrant for you, on a charge of robbery and attempt to 
 kill ; two days will be given you to get out of the State. 
 Beyond that time, the state prison is the only place in it 
 which is open for you." 
 
 " Come, David," said Mohler, "we '11 get out of this." 
 
 " Stop ! " said Mr. Dysart. " You had better not 
 step into the hands of the officer. He is in the hall. 
 If you go through that door, his hand will be on you for 
 ten years or more. The terms I offer are the best you 
 will ever get. Your partner has paid for your crime 
 and his with his life. I give you yours, and the chance 
 to rid the State of your vile presence. There may be a
 
 268 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 place where you can breathe freely and have such chance 
 as you will allow yourselves to make an honest living. 
 Here there is but one .safe place for you, felons and 
 thieves as you are." 
 
 " Don't be so damned hard on a fellow when he is 
 down ! Would you strip us of all our property and all 
 our hopes at once ? " whined Mohler. 
 
 " I have told you what I will do to-day. I give you 
 liberty and hope, both forfeit, and I take your 
 mine, which, on your showing, will barely return me my 
 money. To-morrow I will take your mine and your 
 liberty together. Here is Mr. Maxwell, a notary public 
 of the county ; here are the maps and plans certified by 
 the county clerk, the record of your location and your 
 claim. Sign that deed, or within fifteen minutes you 
 will go to jail. Now take your choice." 
 
 The men conferred together for a moment, and then 
 Mohler said, " It 's all up with us. We '11 sign." 
 
 Mr. Dysart stepped to the hall-door, and called, 
 " Sheriff Hawkins and Mr. Maxwell, will you please 
 step in ? " The two entered, and Mr. Dysart continued, 
 " Gentlemen, there has been difficulty between Mohler 
 and David and myself. I was injured, and proposed to 
 have them arrested ; but the matter will be arranged 
 between us if they freely sign this deed of the Clarita 
 mine and all the property to Mr. Robert Audran, for the 
 consideration of two thousand dollars. They have said 
 they will do so, and I would like to have you witness 
 their signature." 
 
 He pushed the deed across the table, and the two
 
 IN COLORADO. 269 
 
 men signed it. Mr. Audran pushed over the table four 
 five-hundred-dollar bills; they took them, and rose to 
 leave. 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Mr. Dysart. " The civil 
 process is hereby at an end, but there is a criminal 
 charge against them as well ; and, sheriff, I give you 
 warrant to arrest them on Saturday morning, if they can 
 be found in the State. You will please to take notice." 
 
 But Saturday morning saw the pair far on their way 
 to Idaho, beyond pursuit. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Audran," said Mr. Dysart, "five twelfths 
 of this mine is your property, and you will have a gen- 
 eral supervision of it. You shall pay me two thousand 
 dollars when your share has realized you that sum, 
 not till then. Anything more must be considered as 
 your salary for supervision."
 
 2/0 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HOHENTAUBEN. 
 
 "XTOT anticipating a long stay at Geneva, Mrs. Dysart 
 *- ^ had telegraphed from Chamouny to Paris, ordering 
 her letters sent to the baroness's chateau, near Colmar. 
 But day after day the beautiful shores of Lake Lenian 
 beguiled them on, and Julia's promised letter lay mean- 
 time with others at Hohentauben. Their only tidings 
 from home, therefore, was this line, written by Mr. Dy- 
 sart, on the day of his hurried start for Colorado : 
 
 GLENWOOD, July 24. 
 
 DEAREST EUGENIA, Julia has written you a full 
 account of the burglary and attack, which might have 
 ended Heaven only knows how, if Mr. Audran had not 
 appeared. 
 
 My loss is serious, and my only chance to recover is 
 in instant pursuit. So I go to Colorado to-night with 
 Mr. Audran, who seems to be the good genius of the 
 family. I shall write every day or two, and Julia will 
 keep you informed of things at home. 
 
 Meantime, keep Manuela quiet. Don't let us have too 
 many kinds of turmoil on our hands at once. Assure
 
 HOHENTA UBEN. 
 
 Helen that she shall not regret any concession which 
 she may make to prevent trouble. Love to her and 
 Eugene. 
 
 Affectionately, ADRIAN DYSART. 
 
 Of course this letter was unintelligible to the family. 
 Of burglary and violence they knew nothing ; but two 
 things were clear, Mr. Dysart had suffered some se- 
 rious loss, and he could not, even in a hurry, forget to 
 urge on all the family that the baroness was to be con- 
 ciliated. This naturally added to Mrs. Dysart's desire 
 to go to Hohentauben ; and, on the day after the receipt 
 of this letter, the party started. 
 
 The express train from Geneva to Colmar requires 
 twelve hours for the transit, too long a journey for 
 Mrs. Dysart ; and it was, therefore, arranged that their 
 first stage should be Bale, and thence to Hohentauben 
 on the second day. The baroness urged with much cor- 
 diality that Walter should make one of the party ; and 
 he was easily persuaded to do so. 
 
 At Colmar they found the carriages of the chateau 
 waiting to receive them. The valleys of the Weiss and 
 the Fecht, entering those of the 111 and the Rhine at 
 Colmar from the west, unite to form a fair, wide basin 
 of level and fertile land, encircled by mountains. 
 
 Over excellent roads, through avenues of willows and 
 tall poplars, and " garden, field, and fold studding the 
 billowy sweep of ripened grain," to the bridge across the 
 Fecht, afnd upward along its wooded banks, through a 
 close-walled ravine, where overhead tall walnut-trees
 
 2/2 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 filtered a checkered sunlight down on moss-grown rocks 
 and dashing river, and vines hung in golden and crim- 
 son masses, this was the approach to Hohentauben. 
 The fresh green, the cool shade, the clear whistle of the 
 mavis, the thrush pouring its dissolving strain of music 
 through the aisles of the forest, were wonderfully grate- 
 ful after the heat and rattle of the railway. 
 
 A quarter of a mile farther, they came to the sum- 
 mit of the ravine ; and before them lay a lake-like 
 expansion of the river, more than a mile in length. 
 Green forests and greener fields, and, at the farther 
 end, a forest-crowned crag, bordered this beautiful 
 water. On a distant hill were the ruins of an ancient 
 abbey, far in the southwest rose the towers of Mun- 
 ster, and in the background the ridge of the Vosges. 
 Just above them, on the right, lay a smooth, swarded 
 slope ; on its farther side, backed by the walnut and 
 beechen woods through which they had been riding, 
 stood the old, irregular pile of Hohentauben. From 
 the ivy-mantled tower on the corner, the blue banner of 
 the Waldeyers drooped its silken folds in the languid 
 summer air. The drive wound up the slope, through 
 borders of old-time box, which shed a quaint aroma on 
 the air. Banks of foliage-plants and broad-leaved canna 
 and caladium, spotted the lawn ; and the spruce, the 
 larch, the acacia, and the purple beech, singly and in 
 copses, relieved its broad surface. A line of noble 
 elms along the river-bank lifted their vine-draped 
 stems and spreading crowns like so many green foun- 
 tains. On a knoll which overhung the water was a
 
 HOHENTA UBEN. 2/3 
 
 platform of tessellated marble, enclosed by a balus- 
 trade, and covered by an awning of two colors ; be- 
 neath, at a quay of stone, a trim little yacht rocked, 
 and fluttered its pennon of blue. 
 
 The original structure of Hohentauben had been a 
 quadrangle enclosing a court, at its corners towers, the 
 whole surrounded by a moat. The whole western front 
 between the towers a hundred and thirty feet in 
 length had been taken down by the late Baron Wal- 
 deyer, and the interval filled by a modern structure, 
 with an elevation of two and a half stories, facing the 
 lake, built of gray Caen-stone, in the Italian style, and 
 covered by a flat roof, with projecting eaves. The 
 width of this structure, from the front to the interior 
 court, was forty feet, ten of which were given to an en- 
 closed gallery on the rear or court side. This ran the 
 whole length, and gave access to the series of rooms 
 which stretched along the front, and looked out upon 
 the river. They were, in order from the southern front, 
 a reception room, a music room, parlor, dining-room, 
 library, boudoir, all looking over the moat, which had 
 been covered in with a glazed roof, and served as a 
 winter-garden and conservatory. Elsewhere the moat 
 had been filled and levelled, so as to form a portion of 
 the lawn. Above the rooms mentioned were a similar 
 series of chambers, and the northern wing of the quad- 
 rangle held the offices and servants' quarters. Upon 
 the eastern wall of the court trellised vines and wall- 
 fruit' were trained. The exposure lay open to the sun, 
 and shielded from the winds ; and just now the walls 
 
 18
 
 2/4 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 were loaded with a great crop of apricots, nectarines, 
 and almonds. Rosy clusters of the Chasselas grape alter- 
 nated with the black Frontignan and Muscat of Alexan- 
 dria. Within the sheltered court the orange, the fig, and 
 the olive had been nursed into wholesome and fruitful 
 growth. Nowhere was anything gay or garish or con- 
 spicuously new. The furniture could not be found in 
 any catalogue or ordered from any magazine ; it was of 
 no fashion. Use, service, and intrinsic beauty was the 
 characteristic of each article, and all the world had been 
 drawn upon to form the collection. There was a bam- 
 boo sofa from Padang, a basket-chair from Pennsylva- 
 nia, a tall carved clock from the Hague, a locker from 
 Canton, old English sideboards, carved chests from 
 Venice, rugs of Norwegian eider-breasts and of African 
 leopard-skins, vases of madrepore from the Indian 
 Ocean and terra-cotta from Fiesole, pitchers of Cel- 
 lini and cups of Palissy. 
 
 The baroness herself conducted her guests to their 
 chambers, where everything was sweet and fresh and 
 plain, the furniture, like that of the rooms below, be- 
 ing rare rather than rich or elaborate. The wide fire- 
 places were filled with blooming and odorous plants, 
 and yellow jessamines and Banksia roses were trained 
 between the windows, over which white awnings hung 
 low, as a screen from the afternoon sun. Each room 
 opened upon the wide gallery, and the summer air had 
 free course. 
 
 When Madame Waldeyer left them, her maid appeared, 
 and cared for their comfort as only one can, do who
 
 HOHENTA UBEN. 275 
 
 is familiar with the wants and habits of a refined 
 lady. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart was very sensitive to the sentiments and 
 harmonies of places, and, as she lay resting upon her 
 lounge before the window, she remarked to Helen, 
 "There is something noble in this quietness and se- 
 renity, this comfort, delicate, ample,* and complete. 
 Everywhere there is something to notice and to think 
 about, but nothing for show. How grateful such rest is, 
 and how much more restful for the fitness of its sur- 
 roundings ! " - 
 
 " Yes," answered Helen ; " it is all like the baroness 
 herself, ' touched to fine issues, sweet, exact, se- 
 rene.' " 
 
 " I shall get well here," said Mrs. Dysart. " I shall 
 sleep without being either anxious or expectant. A 
 good long rest." 
 
 A servant entered at that moment with a letter. It 
 was Julia's, which had been so long awaiting their 
 coming. 
 
 It bore date July 24, the day after the burglary, of 
 which it gave a detailed account, not to be recited here. 
 It fairly acknowledged Mr. Audran's great service, and 
 the aid which he was likely to render in the recovery of 
 the lost papers ; but underneath the acknowledgments 
 Helen recognized with regret and Mrs. Dysart with sat- 
 isfaction that Julia showed no personal admiration of 
 him nor any enthusiasm in his behalf. 
 
 " Mr. Audran/' said Julia, " has certainly proved him- 
 self a brave man and a useful friend, so much so that
 
 2/6 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 one could wish he were a little less self-conscious and 
 deliberate. ' Less of the pattern and more of the stuff,' " 
 she added, " would suit me better." 
 
 " That is my idea exactly," said Mrs. Dysart. " He 
 has an ingenious and well-furnished mind, of no great 
 compass ; but such as it is, it is enough to control all 
 his impulses, which are many, but not mighty. Enter- 
 taining and honest he may be, but he is not attractive 
 or magnetic. Julia feels it just as I do." 
 
 "We will not talk about him," said Helen, with a 
 trace of bitterness in her heart, if not in her tone. And 
 as she went away to dress for dinner she said to herself, 
 " Either he does not want me very much, or he very 
 much underrates the strength of the current which is 
 setting against him here, absence, silence, the bidding 
 of my father, renewed even in his presence, for father's 
 letter was written just before they started together for 
 the West, the whole weight of obligation to both of 
 my mothers and my sister, and all the charm of this 
 beautiful home and all this fine estate. Why does he 
 not think of these ? Does he mean to prove me ? 
 
 " Did he not say in so many words that I must come 
 to him, if I came at all, with the whole force of my 
 nature and the whole breadth of my understanding ? 
 What is that but demanding of me a complete, final, un- 
 conditional surrender, which takes no account of any 
 opposing influences, or of any possible destiny of which 
 he is not the almoner ? Is not that winning rather than 
 wooing ? Is it not the temper of a hard master, inspired 
 by determination rather than by love ? Was there fate
 
 HOHENTAUBEN. 
 
 or providence in the fact that I so squarely refused to 
 hear him ? I thought it was on his account, but it may 
 be that my good genius hoodwinked me. 
 
 " Come in, Alice," in answer to a knock ; and Alice 
 entered, dressed for dinner, and as pretty as laughing 
 eyes, fair, unsunned brow, ruddy browned cheeks, and 
 a dainty French gown can make a girl of nineteen. 
 
 " Can I help you, Nelly ? Won't you be late for din- 
 ner ? It would never do to keep this grand manage wait- 
 ing. Do you know that I am very much impressed with 
 the establishment? Everything is so complete and so 
 orderly. The whole house seems to have been made 
 for itself and by itself. Things harmonize, but they 
 don't match." 
 
 " Yes," said Helen, " I feel it. Did you know that 
 my mother has a letter from Julia ? " 
 
 "No. Is there anything special in it? Do tell me 
 what she says now about Mr. Audran." 
 
 " Yes, there is something very special. The house at 
 Glenwood has been entered by burglars. Father was 
 bound and gagged, and what next might have happened 
 no one can tell ; but, fortunately, Mr. Audran came on 
 the scene in the nick of time, drove the burglars off, 
 and wounded one of them. Now my father and he 
 have gone to Colorado together, in pursuit of some 
 papers which were stolen. I dare say mamma will give 
 you the letter after dinner." 
 
 " So Mr. Audran has done your family another great 
 service, Helen ? " 
 
 " Yes, a very great one ; and he was there at precisely
 
 278 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 the critical moment, just as he was for me at Handeck. 
 Father might have died, suffocated in a bag, and I 
 must have died, drowned and mangled in a pool, but 
 for him. Is it not strange that it should have happened 
 so twice ? " 
 
 " No, not so strange. It is no accident, Helen. He 
 waits and watches for all in whom he is interested. 
 He would not have been near that frightful pool if you 
 had not been in all his thoughts." 
 
 " He keeps his thoughts very much to himself, then," 
 said Helen fretfully. " We have not heard a word from 
 him since he left." 
 
 " No. Perhaps Walter has a letter by this mail. We 
 did not leave him much to say, I fancy. We did not 
 answer some of his communications according to his 
 wishes, did we ? " 
 
 " Mr. Audran is at liberty to say whatever he wishes 
 and whenever he thinks best ; and I am at liberty to 
 answer as I think best, too" (majestically). 
 
 " You ought not to be angry, Helen, and you have no 
 reason to be in doubt about his feeling for you." 
 
 " Supposing he does like me, and supposing, when he 
 had nothing else to do, he did grow a little warm 
 about it. He did not mean it should go any further \ 
 and when he drifted away from his intentions, I 
 brought him back to them. Did I not tell you at 
 Interlaken that was all there was of it ? And was 
 I not right ? Mr. Audran has gone his way ; let 
 him go. I did not hasten him or detain him, and I 
 will not."
 
 HOHENTAUBEN. 2?g 
 
 "And what will you do when he comes back, and 
 says again, with all possible deliberation and emphasis, 
 what he did not think it timely to say before ? " 
 
 " I do not know why you should catechise me, or 
 why I should answer you any further. My present con- 
 cern is to be civil to the baroness, who has been so kind 
 to me. Come, you are dressed ; go and fetch mamma, 
 and I will be ready in a minute." 
 
 The baron and baroness were waiting to receive 
 them. Both were in evening costume, and the baroness 
 wore rich jewels. " 
 
 " I hope you are all rested after your journey," said 
 Madame Waldeyer. " I should have remembered, Mrs. 
 Dysart, to ask if you would not prefer to dine quietly 
 in your chamber." 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed ! " said Mrs. Dysart. " I am feeling 
 perfectly well, and not in the least disposed to be alone. 
 This is my first introduction to a French country-house, 
 and everything interests me. You have a charming 
 home, baroness, and I am sure it is your taste which 
 has made it such." 
 
 " I am so glad you are pleased with it," replied 
 the baroness. " Nature has done much for us, but 
 the place has been greatly changed since I first saw 
 it." 
 
 Then she told the history of the baron's family for 
 two generations. His father, an emigre of the French 
 Revolution, had married an English wife, who survived 
 him, and who preferred that her children, born in 
 England, should also be educated there. Adolphe, the
 
 280 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 present baron, was eighteen years younger than his 
 brother, and, in accordance with his mother's last re- 
 quest, had been left at school in England until he entered 
 the military academy of St. Cyr. 
 
 " Thus, for the first eighteen years of his life," said 
 the baroness, " Adolphe was practically an English boy. 
 When Alexandre brought me here, in 1848, this place 
 was almost a ruin. We lived in the old north wing for 
 two years, while the western front was building; and we 
 lived with almost bare walls and floors until, in the 
 coursa of our yearly journeys, we picked up whatever 
 furniture you see here. The baron kept his library in 
 advance of all his other appointments ; and you, Helen, 
 and you, Walter, will, I know, like to range over it, as 
 you shall. It is not a great library, of course, but it 
 represents almost everything." 
 
 The folding-doors of the dining-room were thrown 
 open at that moment, and the butler announced dinner. 
 The baron conducted Mrs. Dysart to the post of honor, 
 near Madame Waldeyer, and the baroness placed 
 Helen on the right of the baron, at the other end of 
 the table. The dinner was simple, but elegant, and 
 beautifully served. The salads and fruits were par- 
 ticularly fine. 
 
 " You must have an admirable gardener," said Helen 
 to the baron. 
 
 " There she is, at the other end of the table," said 
 Baron Waldeyer. " For more than twenty years Manu- 
 ela has been the gardener of Hohentauben. All that 
 is good or choice about the place has been formed
 
 HOHENTA UBEN. 28 1 
 
 under her care. I have watched its growth in my oc- 
 casional visits to the place ; and now that I am legal 
 owner, I feel that her right is far greater than my 
 own." 
 
 After two hours at table, they went to the parlor and 
 the western portico. The sun was setting between the 
 peaks of the Vosges, and threw a long band of weltering 
 gold upon the tremulous waters of the lake-like river. 
 The glory shone through the windows of the ruined 
 abbey on the far-off shore, the swallows skimmed the 
 water, and the shrill note of the night-hawk, pursuing 
 the bats which like filmy shapes issued from the cran- 
 nies of the eastern wing of the castle, blended with the 
 boom of the bittern in the distant marshes. Later, 
 when the lamps were lighted, the baron brought from 
 the library a large map of the surrounding country, 
 and entertained them with local history, and legends 
 from the days of the Crusades to those of the German 
 War. 
 
 So ended the first day at Hohentauben ; and after 
 our friends had gone to their chambers, the baroness 
 and baron still lingered in the salon. 
 
 " Manuela," said the baron, " I congratulate you. No 
 one but yourself could have done what you have accom- 
 plished, could have brought these people hither and 
 made friends of them all." 
 
 " I hope they are friends," she replied. " It is the 
 only thing I have thought of or wished for since we 
 met." 
 
 " I do not wonder," said he. " Helen is a jewel for
 
 282 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 any mother to prize, how much more so for any hus- 
 band! I should like to know what my chances are 
 with her." 
 
 " Are you going to test them, Adolphe ? " 
 
 " Yes, Manuela, I am. Long ago I made my mind 
 to that, and every day makes me more sure of my own 
 purpose and more impatient of delay. What have you 
 to say to me ? " 
 
 " Dear Adolphe, I do not know what to say. I hope 
 I am not so selfish, so wrapped up in my own desires, 
 that I cannot feel sympathy and interest for you ; and 
 yet I shall lose her." 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 " No, I don't suppose you can. But listen : measure 
 my desire for her against your own. You are young ; 
 life, with all its great achievements, all its honors and 
 rewards, lies before you. When you want a wife, you 
 have but to go out into the world of women and choose 
 where you will. I am old ; there is no future for me, 
 nothing but years of slow decay, a stain upon my 
 memory, a sting within my conscience. There is no 
 one in all this world except Helen who can lighten and 
 brighten my melancholy lot. If ever she comes to 
 my heart and takes me to hers, the awful wrong which I 
 did against nature, and which has been the bitter drop 
 in every cup of every day, will be compensated and 
 atoned for ; for Helen will not give me my desire 
 unless she thinks I have in some way made sufficient 
 atonement. 
 
 " What would your success be, if you succeeded ?
 
 HOHENTAUBEN. 283 
 
 Something in which instinct, ambition, affection, in- 
 fluences from every side of life, would be blended. 
 What would my success be ? Something simpler, rarer, 
 sweeter far, forgiveness, sympathy, defence." 
 
 " But, Manuela, would not mine be yours also, the 
 best and surest pledge of yours ? " 
 
 " Yes, Adolphe, if mine came first, and were complete 
 without yours. God knows that I have no wish to nar- 
 row or depress the scope of Helen's life. Only let me 
 feel and know that she accepts and enjoys her relation 
 to me, as I do mine to her, and I shall wish her the best 
 husband in the world, which may be yourself, for all I 
 know. I would not, if I could, interfere with or lessen 
 his claim on her life. She shall keep for him all the con- 
 fidences and reserves and endearments which are his 
 right, and the right of no one else. But she must give 
 me and for my own sake the place which Nature 
 gave, and which by my own fault I forfeited. If she 
 gives it to me for your sake, she does not give it at all. 
 If she will take me first, and then you, you may be near- 
 est and dearest, and I shall be too, too happy. But if 
 she cannot incline to you, she may still incline to me j 
 and your suit must not must not, Adolphe ! endan- 
 ger mine. 
 
 " Now you see why I am nervous at the thought of 
 your pressing it, although, as you say, its success would 
 so much enlarge and complete my own. I cannot run 
 the risk of having her driven away from me." 
 
 " I will not, Manuela, indeed I will not. God grant 
 that instead I may bring her closer to you, now and for-
 
 284 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 ever ! But you do not tell me what you think of my 
 chances." 
 
 " Chances ! There is no chance about it. I resent 
 the word. Helen will not love you because you are the 
 Baron Waldeyer, young, distinguished, rich ; she will 
 not love you for your importunity. She will love you if 
 you are her ideal of what a man should be, not else." 
 
 " Still, you do not tell me ; perhaps you cannot. But 
 do you think Mr. Audran is in the way ? " 
 
 " When Mr. Audran was here, I thought he might be ; 
 but Mrs. Dysart assures me that there is no pledge be- 
 tween them. Both she and Mr. Dysart have said that 
 Helen is her own mistress, and free. Mr. Audran has 
 not written to her, I am almost sure ; at least, she has 
 received no letter from him since he left. It would seem 
 that he asks nothing. I could not bear such silence, for 
 my part ; and, if you are to speak, perhaps it would bet- 
 ter be while that silence is unbroken. I think the whole 
 family are pleased thus far with Hohentauben. But that 
 may not be for long. Travellers generally are not con- 
 tent to halt long in one place. Our resources here are 
 soon exhausted. When they have seen everything, then 
 will come the desire to move on, weariness, impa- 
 tience. You should not wait for that time. Better 
 either speak soon, or wait until, wearied and impatient 
 elsewhere, their memories turn back pleasantly to us. 
 You must study opportunity ; but you must remember 
 that she is accustomed to win golden opinions, to 
 pursuit and to siege. A cold and deliberate lover will 
 not succeed with her."
 
 HOHENTA UBEN. 285 
 
 " Well, Manuela, you can hardly expect me to rehearse 
 in your presence whatever I may have to say to her. If 
 I put into words the half of what has been in my heart 
 and on my lips a hundred times, she cannot hear me 
 with indifference." 
 
 " Go, then, Adolphe, and all my prayers and all my 
 heart go with you ! " 
 
 It had been agreed over night that Helen should attend 
 the baroness in her usual early morning inspection of 
 her whole establishment; and at half-past seven she was 
 awaiting her hostess in the parlor. 
 
 The baroness came in a gown of plain black stuff, 
 with linen collar and cap, looking like the most do- 
 mestic of chatelaines ; and they went together through 
 kitchen, pantry, and wine-cellar, still-room, linen-room, 
 laundry, dairy, kennel, and stable, returning by the gar- 
 den and conservatory. Everywhere the servants were 
 prepared for her coming, glad of her presence, proud of 
 her praise ; and madame examined the work of each, 
 inquired for their friends at home, and was ready with 
 advice and suggestion for all who asked it. The gar- 
 dener followed her into the house with a huge tray of 
 cut flowers ; and Helen watched with delight as she 
 arranged the vases with that instinctive taste which 
 belongs to a sensitive and beauty-loving nature, making 
 each a harmony of color and fragrance. 
 
 What to do with the coming day was the question of 
 the breakfast-table. The baron proposed an excursion 
 to the summit of the Reis. 
 
 " And what is the Reis ? " asked Helen.
 
 286 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " It is a ridge of the Vosges," he answered, " one 
 of the highest; and it gives a view of all Lorraine, 
 Alsace, the Rhine valley, and the Alps in the distance. 
 Will you try it, Miss Dysart ? We can ride to within 
 half an hour of the top ; but that half hour, I must 
 warn you, will be a steep climb." 
 
 They were soon on the road, which followed the 
 northern bank of the river nearly to Munster, and then 
 turned northward up a little tributary of the Fecht. Be- 
 tween hillsides, strewn with great granite blocks broken 
 from the jagged ridge above, through rock-walled ra- 
 vines, clothed with dark spruce-trees, they issued on a 
 little plateau beneath the gigantic precipice of the Reis- 
 berg, a sheer rise of a thousand feet above their 
 heads. Here they left the carriage and began a cir- 
 cuitous ascent on foot. Nearly an hour's sharp climbing 
 brought them to the top and well repaid their trouble. 
 Before them, on the west, lay the fair valleys of Lor- 
 raine, from St. Diey to Belfort. The infant Meurthe 
 wound northward from the foot of the ridge on which 
 they stood ; and, like strips of fallen sky, lay the two 
 blue lakes which are the source of the Moselle. North- 
 ward and eastward towered the line of the Vosges and 
 the Haardt, with the valleys of the 111 and the Rhine, 
 and beyond, the Black Forest of Baden. Southward 
 the Rhine valley led the eye to Switzerland, and far 
 on the horizon rose the white pyramids of the Eiger, 
 Jungfrau, and the Altels Range ; beneath them lay the 
 rock-walled pools of Lac Blanc and Lac Noir; and, 
 nestling in the meadows of the Weiss, the hamlet and 
 spires of Orbey.
 
 IIOHENTA UBEN. 287 
 
 With the map spread out before them, they were able 
 to locate many a town and river of name familiar in 
 song and story. Here was Alsace, wrested from France 
 by the war of 1870 ; and the baron repeated with a sigh 
 the lines, 
 
 " Alsatia, thou to whom in evil hour 
 
 The fatal boon of beauty Nature gave, 
 
 Oh, were that beauty less, or more thy power ! 
 That he, who now compels thee to his arms, 
 Might gaze with cold indifference on thy charms, 
 
 Or tremble at thine eye's indignant lower."
 
 288 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 
 
 WHEN Mrs. Dysart had finished her writing, she 
 went down to the library, where she found the 
 baroness engaged with her household accounts. Mrs. 
 Dysart would not permit her to interrupt herself. 
 " Pray leave me to myself, and let me glance over your 
 books," she said. 
 
 " By all means,'' said the baroness. " Here on this 
 side you will find the English shelves." 
 
 They were of a class with which Mrs. Dysart was not 
 familiar. Many of them, she fancied, represented the 
 late baron's peculiar opinions and studies in political and 
 social philosophy, Hobbes, Milton's prose works, Bo- 
 lingbroke, Burnet, Clarendon, Neal, Hargrave, Hallam, 
 Bentham, Adam Smith, Mill, and Froude. 
 
 "These are books which I don't know," she observed. 
 " Is this a favorite kind of reading with you, Madame 
 Waldeyer ? " 
 
 " The baron used to read to me, and I to him ; other- 
 wise, I should probably know very little of books of this 
 class. Living alone, as we did, books, and these not 
 generally of a light kind, were our companions. You 
 will find others beyond."
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 289 
 
 Mrs. Dysart continued her examination, to find Eng- 
 lish literature, ancient and modern, well represented in 
 all departments. But the greater part of the library was 
 French and German, of a character similar to the Eng- 
 lish portion. " I have always wondered," she said, " how 
 you came to speak English so perfectly well." 
 
 " It was a common language with the baron and my- 
 self. He did not speak my native Spanish, and I was 
 by no means fluent in French ; so English was in habit- 
 ual use with us, and was only gradually superseded by 
 French and German. Both those languages, as you 
 know, belong to Alsace; and most of the people use 
 either indifferently, and both badly, as I must admit. 
 Helen's French, I notice, is exceedingly good." 
 
 " I am glad you think so," said Mrs. Dysart. " She 
 reads French and German with perfect ease, and with 
 practice would, I dare say, speak well." 
 
 " That is fortunate," said the baroness, " if she is to 
 have a home at Hohentauben. This estate belongs to 
 the baron, you know ; I belong to the estate at present ; 
 and I hope you are willing to allow that Helen belongs, 
 in part at least, to me." 
 
 " You have told us so frequently, for the last month, 
 madame," said Mrs. Dysart with a smile ; " but to re- 
 verse your statement, we will say, Helen belongs to you, 
 you belong to the estate, the estate belongs to the 
 baron : that would make Helen belong to the baron, 
 a very different proposition, you perceive." 
 
 "And would you find it an objectionable one, ma- 
 dame ? " said the baroness, with an interrogative smile. 
 
 19
 
 290 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " It is an idea which I could not, at any rate, enter- 
 tain in advance of the parties themselves," replied Mrs. 
 Dysart. 
 
 "Let us speak in confidence to each other," said 
 Madame VValdemeyer. " I must not compromise the 
 baron, of course ; but I cannot help observing him, 
 and it is plain to me that he is greatly fascinated by 
 Helen. If he should presently tell her so, it would be 
 no surprise to me, and if she answered according to his 
 hopes it would be a very great delight. As his wife, she 
 would be mistress of Hohentauben, as well as heiress of 
 my separate estate ; and she would be the unquestionable 
 baroness, a name to which my claim is not too good, 
 if there were any to dispute it. Better than that, she 
 would find the baron worthy of his name. Have you 
 any idea how she would receive such a proposal ? " 
 
 " Not the least. More than once already she has 
 declined proposals which her father and I would gladly 
 have had her accept. In fact, we have doubted if she 
 would ever marry at all." 
 
 " I think he might win her whole heart in time," said 
 the baroness. " Helen's vigorous and eager nature would 
 be fitly mated with his. He is a man of affairs, as his 
 brother was of speculation ; but both are alike in the 
 simplicity of their feelings and in their appreciation of 
 domestic life. I know very well that he has never be- 
 fore cared for any woman who in any way could compare 
 with Helen. Ten years ago he was betrothed to a 
 daughter of General d'Ecuyer, a sweet, frail creature, 
 who died before he could marry her ; and his heart has
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 291 
 
 been vacant since, until he met our Helen. I do not 
 know the man to whom I would sooner give daughter 
 of mine." 
 
 " Such is my own impression," said Mrs. Dysart. 
 " You know how much I appreciated his care when he 
 went with us from Martigny to Chamouny." 
 
 " Then you will not say him nay, if it comes to that, 
 dear Mrs. Dysart ? " 
 
 " I shall say neither one thing nor the other, if it 
 comes to that ; but I shall congratulate them both, with 
 all my heart." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! You make me very happy. It is 
 after three. Shall we go down to the pavilion and 
 watch for their return ? The baron said they would be 
 at home by four. If they come by the river-road, we 
 can see them a long way off." 
 
 But they watched in vain, for the excursionists had 
 taken the road north of the ridge, by the castle of 
 Hohnpach, and came rattling out of the ravine of the 
 Vogelbach, directly beneath the pavilion, while the la- 
 dies were gazing in the other direction. 
 
 Dinner was served soon after their arrival, after which 
 the younger members of the party returned to the pa- 
 vilion. Walter and Eugene proposed a row upon the 
 river, and Alice joined them. The baron and Helen 
 sat watching the receding boat, whose oars flashed in 
 the declining sunlight. 
 
 " This is my opportunity," thought the baron. " Do 
 you find the sketch of this place, which the baroness 
 gave you at Interlaken, correct ? " he asked.
 
 292 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " More than correct," said Helen. " It is the scene, 
 and it is her sense of the scene also, the beauty of 
 nature brightened by the illumination of her mind. I 
 am seldom very much interested in a picture unless I can 
 see the artist in his work ; and I value this little sketch 
 exceedingly, for long hence and far away it will recall 
 the image of both place and person to me. The baron- 
 ess told me at Chamouny that I could understand her 
 only after I had seen her in her own home ; and it was 
 perfectly true, for here I see not only what she is, but how 
 she has become what she is. I am very glad we came, 
 even for a little while." 
 
 " Must it, then, be a little while, Miss Dysart ? May 
 I, for this evening and while we sit here, call you, as all 
 others do, Helen ? " 
 
 She lifted her inquiring eyes to his as she answered, 
 " I see no reason why you should not do so, if you like. 
 We are connections, in a sort of way." 
 
 The baron looked so long at her in silence that she 
 looked up archly. " Do you disclaim me, then, baron ? " 
 
 " Disclaim you, Helen, disclaim you, who, since 
 that evening at Lucerne, have been first, and almost 
 alone, in my waking thoughts, and even in my dreams ! 
 You do not know how beautiful and bright you are to 
 me, how there is not a feature or a motion of yours, 
 never a turn of your face, a word of your lips, a glance 
 of your eye, a ripple of your hair, a touch of your hand, 
 that does not thrill me through and through. Why are 
 you so lovely, Helen, if I may not love you ? Why do 
 I so long for your love, if you may not give it to me ?
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 293 
 
 You can be the light, crown, reward of my life. You 
 know it, and you will be, will you not ? for you cannot 
 refuse love such as mine. God never made such sweet- 
 ness for itself alone. 
 
 " Do not speak yet ! Let me first say that if you will 
 accept my devotion, you shall do as you please with me 
 and mine. I risk nothing in saying this ; for have I not 
 watched you for weeks, and do I not know that you 
 have never a thought nor a wish which is not sweet and 
 generous, that love and grace and honor rule your 
 mind as beauty lives and breathes in your form ? Day 
 by day, for weeks past, these words have been in my 
 throat, and I have strangled them till they have almost 
 strangled me. I would not utter them until you had 
 time to see and know something more of me and mine. 
 I can keep silence no longer. My words do not say 
 what they should. It would need years to do that, and 
 years only can tell my meaning for me." 
 
 " Baron ! Baron Waldeyer ! Wait, do wait, and let 
 me speak ! I cannot have you open your heart to me 
 thus without a word from me. If I hear, I assent. If 
 I do not and cannot assent, I should not hear. 
 
 "You have been a most useful and most valuable 
 friend to me and to all of us. No kindness could be 
 more graceful or complete than yours has been. I have 
 done very little to merit it; and when a man whom I so 
 much esteem and admire tells me his love and asks for 
 mine, I ought indeed to be flattered and pleased. 
 
 " I prize your friendship. Let us never be less than 
 friends, whatever happens. But you are too kind, and
 
 294 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 you have invested me with gifts and graces which do 
 not belong to me, and which exist only in your own 
 imagination. We dream of our mates, from childhood 
 onward, and we dream of our feelings toward them ; 
 and then we fancy that we have found the likeness of 
 our dreams in some one, and forthwith we invest that 
 person with all we most desire to love. So it is now. 
 You have made of me the surface on which the light of 
 your own heart is thrown. It is the love of love, which 
 you declare to be the love of me ! Think of it in that 
 way, and I shall not have to blush at the sense of your 
 exaggeration." 
 
 " Now it is my turn, Helen ; and I tell you it is not so. 
 I swear it is not so ! It is just you, you, who are so 
 soft and so hard, so ingenuous and so elusive and so 
 fascinating all at once, that I want, and that I must 
 have. This is no vague or general susceptibility. For 
 ten years I have not felt even the most transient attrac- 
 tion ; there has been no one to whose love I would not 
 have preferred my liberty. But now, about your form, 
 your soul, every wandering thought and affection has 
 gathered, to flow no more, and not elsewhere. What 
 would it be, if .your beauty and your brightness could be 
 the food of every day ? I don't think you can imagine 
 how I can and will love you, if only you will permit it. 
 Drop that cool, critical manner, I implore you ! Give 
 me your hand ! Let me hear you say that henceforth our 
 lives are to be one ! God knows, and I know, that your 
 wishes will shape every wish of mine." 
 
 " Oh, what am I to do with such a man?" she cried,
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 295 
 
 " a man who thinks himself so much in love with me, and 
 is so fierce and masterful ; who takes no account of my 
 years and opportunities, and does not even seem to sus- 
 pect that I may have kept some fancy by me from which 
 I cannot be so suddenly weaned. If I never had been 
 wooed before, I don't think I could say you nay, Baron. 
 You are such an eloquent lover, you would be irresistible. 
 But I have had my experiences, and have seen the most 
 ardent love subside into silence and great contentment. 
 There was Mr. So-and-So, who on one Occasion assured 
 me that his heart was broken ; and now I go to the opera 
 with him and his little wife, and nobody is surprised. 
 He says I knew him better than he did himself. Grati- 
 tude toward me has replaced every other emotion with 
 him. MacMahon may make you Minister to Persia, one 
 of these days ; and then I shall be only that American 
 girl who bewitched your summer leisure in Switzerland 
 and Alsace." 
 
 " You mock, you wound me, Helen ! Do you not 
 realize that you are, and must be, either my light or my 
 eclipse forever ? " 
 
 " No, and it is not so. A man who has your record 
 and has lived your life, who has faculties and ambitions 
 in him like yours, and such opportunity and promise 
 before him, takes a disappointment, even if he finds it 
 severe, and does not suffer it to unman him. No woman 
 could bring to your bright life what you fancy I might 
 bring. Years hence, when your record is made up, 
 patriot, soldier, senator, diplomat, it will be of no con- 
 sequence to history whether one woman or another was
 
 296 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 of your household. The crown of history, the applause 
 of senates, the gratitude of a nation will be yours, 
 your inspiration and your reward." 
 
 "Well, even supposing all this to be. You are a 
 part the best part of me ; and will not my success 
 and honor be yours also, and worth your sharing ? 
 Could I enjoy them alone ? Would there be anything 
 half so sweet as to lay all at your feet, to place it, as it 
 were a crown, on the head of the beautiful woman whom 
 I adore ? Why do you put me off thus, Helen ? You 
 have faith in me, you say. Prove it. Tell me now that 
 I may have you and hold you and keep you. Only say 
 that to me, Helen ! " 
 
 " I cannot say it, Baron ; and I would gladly have pre- 
 vented your saying this to me. Be content. Do not 
 ask what I am not free to give." 
 
 " Not free, Helen, not free ? Do your love and 
 your faith, then, belong to another ? " 
 
 " My faith is my own, I am not pledged to any one, 
 but still I am not free ; though, if I could have pre- 
 vented it, I would not have allowed you to force me to tell 
 you so. I wish neither to give you pain in refusing your 
 addresses nor pain to any one else in permitting them. 
 And now, my dear Baron, whatever there is between 
 you and me, as I would not parade a love which I 
 cannot accept, even so I will not be questioned by you 
 about any other person. Proud and grateful as I am 
 for your interest in me, we must be to each other as we 
 always have been until this evening, before you were 
 betrayed into these hasty and passionate words."
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 297 
 
 " It cannot be, Helen. I cannot see you sit or move, 
 I cannot think of you waking or asleep, near or absent, 
 and be content with the distance which you place be- 
 tween us." 
 
 " Please, please, say no more, Baron Waldeyer ! Only 
 before we leave the subject, I must tell you this, that 
 I will cure you of this hapless love, and I will have you 
 and keep you for one of my first and best friends. I 
 have plenty of use for your friendship in other ways 
 than that of making myself a permanent burden and 
 charge upon you. No more now, I pray you ; and you 
 must not feel aggrieved, and you must not enlist the 
 baroness for you or against me." 
 
 " There is but one word of comfort in what you say, 
 Miss Dysart : it is the word ' now.' It permits me to 
 speak again to you ; and it cannot be that you will al- 
 ways be so cold and so hard to reach." 
 
 " Here come the young people," was all Helen's an- 
 swer. "Now let us set them a decorous example, 
 Baron." 
 
 " Why," cried Alice, " have you been here all this 
 immense time ? " and she glanced quickly from one to 
 the other. 
 
 " We have waited, as you see," said the baron. " Mrs. 
 Dysart would have been disturbed had we returned with- 
 out you. How far did you row ? " 
 
 "To the other end of the lake," said Walter, "a 
 mile or more." 
 
 The sun was gone down, and the glow in the west had 
 faded. The moon, with down-dropped horns, was risen
 
 298 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 in the east, and the twinkling waters and dim shores lay 
 fair and still in its pale ray. A month before, from the 
 other verge of the sky, it had kept morning watch with 
 them on the Rigi. Six hours later it would pierce the 
 storm-cloud of Colorado to light a scene of death and 
 deliverance. 
 
 " What a dew ! " said Alice, looking at her pretty feet. 
 "We must all go in." 
 
 The baroness and Mrs. Dysart met them on the porch 
 over the moat. 
 
 " You have been in the grass, children, and your shoes 
 are wet. Go and take care of yourselves. I have sent 
 letters and a package to your room, Mr. Audran. By 
 the postmarks, I should think they had travelled from one 
 end of Switzerland to the other before finding you." 
 
 " If you will excuse me, mother, and you, mamma, I 
 will not come down again to-night," said Helen. " I am 
 tired after that scramble on the Reisberg." 
 
 " And me too, please," said Alice. " It is too late to 
 dress again." 
 
 " Good-night, then, all of you, if such is your plea- 
 sure," said the baroness. " Mrs. Dysart and I get on 
 beautifully without you." 
 
 So they went, each their own way. 
 
 A few minutes later, Helen heard Walter's voice at 
 her door. 
 
 " Miss Dysart, may I speak with you for a moment? " 
 
 She opened her door, and he showed her two letters 
 which bore the postmarks of Lucerne, Interlaken, Ge- 
 neva, and the stamp of the consulate at the latter city.
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 299 
 
 " You know," said he, " how I have wondered at hav- 
 ing no letters from Robert. It appears that he wrote 
 both from Liverpool and New York ; and his letters, 
 probably from some carelessness of mine, have been 
 travelling round Switzerland until they reached the con- 
 sul at Geneva, and were sent on here by him, with this 
 little box. Each of Robert's letters encloses one for 
 you, and this box has your name on the inside wrapper. 
 I want to take all the blame of the delay on my own 
 shoulders, where it belongs, and hope you will forgive 
 me for it." 
 
 " Yes, my dear boy, I will charge you with it, and 
 discharge you at the same time. I am very glad to get 
 the letters at last, and they come in good time. Thank 
 you, and good-night ! " 
 
 She opened the first enclosure. It was dated at Liv- 
 erpool, July 12, and read as follows: 
 
 MY DEAR Miss DYSART, Here, on the margin of 
 the ocean which must so soon divide us, I claim for the 
 first time the privilege which you permitted me. 
 
 I have thought of little else excepting you since we 
 parted at the foot of the stairs, at Interlaken, and with 
 each thought you have seemed nearer, dearer, and more 
 necessary to me. 
 
 I have gone over your words again and again, to see 
 just how much hope I might extract from them, and I 
 trust you will allow me to recall some of them to you. 
 for they are the anchors of my soul, and I must not let 
 them pass from your memory or mine.
 
 300 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 You said and God be praised that you said so ! 
 that you liked me better than you did any other man ; 
 and when I offered you all that there was in me or of 
 me or with me, you said splendid creature that you 
 are, you did say ! that you liked me better than you 
 ever did before. 
 
 Helen, if only I can keep that mind in you ! 
 
 1 am going into exile. May I take with me the in- 
 finite hope which you have put into me ? You bade me 
 go to work out the scheme to which, for a time, it 
 may not be so very long, my honor and my fortunes 
 are committed ; and you told me I might come again 
 and be sure of your welcome. 
 
 Don't doubt that I shall come, and seek again the 
 consent which you deferred, but did not altogether deny. 
 And do not think I am trying to bind my queen in her 
 own words. I have quoted them as an inspiration to 
 myself, not as an obligation to you. I know that only 
 the abiding approval of your judgment will insure your 
 consent. But from my own point of view I do not de- 
 spair of that, if I may not, as I will not, doubt your 
 words. With many wishes for your present pleasure, 
 and many hopes for the future, 
 
 I remain very truly yours, 
 
 ROBERT AUDRAN. 
 
 With nervous fingers Helen tore open the second 
 letter. It bore date, Hoffman House, July 24. 
 
 MY DEAR 'Miss DYSART, Helen, bien aimde, 
 Over three thousand miles of cold and faithless sea,
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 301 
 
 may I control your attention for a few moments ? How 
 much I envy my written words, which will look up into 
 your eyes as you look down on them ! How much I 
 envy this paper, which you, perhaps, will lay by with 
 sweet and fragrant things in your drawer, and perhaps, 
 after a little, take and turn and read again ! What 
 sweet and blessed fortune led me to you on that summer 
 afternoon, and followed me for those after days made 
 ever bright and memorable by your society ! 
 
 There are ranks upon ranks of beautiful and good 
 women in the world, doubtless ; but nowhere, I think, 
 is one who could please me as you did, and always will 
 do, you, who have as much sense as if you had no 
 wit, and as much wit as if you had no sense. It was 
 said of some lady that a familiar acquaintance with her 
 was equivalent to a liberal education ; and it is certain 
 that you and the memory of you tease me out of more 
 thought than the best book that ever was written. Into 
 the low-hung sky of my life you came, as after winter, 
 spring, 
 
 " Spring, shedding soft dews from her ethereal wings ; 
 Flowers on the mountain, fruits over the plain, 
 And music on the waves and woods she flings, 
 And love on all that lives, and calm on lifeless things." 
 
 That is what you are to me while you give me leave 
 to think of you. Your presence in my mind makes all 
 good and gentle thoughts abide there, and all lower 
 instincts fade and flee. 
 
 I have to tell you of a favorable voyage ; of business, 
 successful up to the present stage, and very promising,
 
 302 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 as I think. You will hear, from your father and sister, 
 of last night's adventure. The miscreant got away with 
 the booty for which he came, but your father and I 
 start in pursuit to-night; and as his mine is near my 
 home, where I hope I have some influence, we Look 
 with confidence to recover the stolen property. 
 
 Helen, I am going five days' journey into the wilder- 
 ness, five days for me to go, and five more for a letter 
 to return. For ten days after the coming of this, I can- 
 not, or my words cannot, plead my cause with you, 
 the cause of one whom those who live in the centres of 
 the world would call an exile, if not an outcast. It may 
 be often I fear it is unlikely that I and mine can 
 at all weigh with the manifold attractions which bind 
 you to those more fortunate friends and to your present 
 sphere. 
 
 Somebody says that the immortality of the soul is 
 something almost too good to be believed, but the aspi- 
 ration after it is as deathless as the soul itself. If you 
 should close the door to all possible hope of possession, 
 if even you should give your life and your love to an- 
 other, I should still thank God that I have known you, 
 and I should come eagerly and confidently, when I 
 might, into your presence. But, until the irrevocable 
 word is spoken, until you bid me put you out of all 
 my thoughts, I shall dream of you as mine, and I 
 shall shape life and fortune as I may to win and wel- 
 come you. 
 
 I must tell you how interesting I find your sister. 
 She has much of your grace and fire. I cannot yet say
 
 THE VEXED QUESTION. 303 
 
 if she has your sweetness or your scope. Your father 
 and she have been as kind to me as could possibly be. 
 
 You will sometime receive from Paris the stone which 
 you bade me pick up for you from the rock on Rigi. It 
 will come to you in the form of a button, so you can- 
 not say I do not care a button for you ; and the form is 
 an act of conscience, confession of a larceny. On 
 the ground where you lay faint and pale at Handeck, I 
 found a stud of yours, and I coveted the chance of re- 
 placing it with something which should recall myself. 
 
 I have kept it ever since, and shall keep so long as 
 you permit; and if this which I send may take its place, 
 no one but myself will know it, and I shall be both 
 happy and unenvied. Ever truly yours, 
 
 ROBERT AUDRAN. 
 
 Then she opened the box, and there, in its bed of 
 silk, lay an oval disk of blackest agate ; on its face, in 
 letters of purest white and in high relief, was the word 
 " Rigi." She breathed quickly, and a tear ran down 
 her cheek as she looked, and said, " ' Helen, bien aime'e ' 
 Helen, well-beloved. O Robert, my two mothers, 
 father, brother, sister, baron ! have I love enough for 
 all of you ? "
 
 304 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 
 
 T TELEN went early to Mrs. Dysart's room on the 
 * following morning ; for she wished her to know 
 that Mr. Audran, upon whose silence she had commented 
 so severely of late, was neither remiss nor forgetful. She 
 found her already dressed, and sitting by the open win- 
 dow. 
 
 " I did not think you would be up so early, mother," 
 she said. 
 
 " Sleep is so restful here," answered Mrs. Dysart, 
 " and the birds waken me early. I have been watching 
 the humming-birds in the jessamine. There are two 
 now." 
 
 " You are feeling well, then, this morning, mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes, very well. And you, did you take cold last 
 night on the water ? " 
 
 " I was not on the water ; Alice and the boys went, but 
 not I." 
 
 " And where were you ? " 
 
 " In the pavilion by the river." 
 
 " Was the baron with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " Indeed ! Then you probably had a very interesting 
 interview."
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 305 
 
 Helen made no reply, and Mrs. Dysart continued, 
 " I know what was in his mind, for the baroness has told 
 me. Did he explain himself, Helen ? " 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " Well, tell me all about it." 
 
 " I received two letters from Mr. Audran last night, 
 mamma, one written just before sailing, and the other 
 just after reaching New York. I had rather tell you of 
 those." 
 
 " Oh, I can wait to hear about those. The baron in- 
 terests me more at present." 
 
 " Mr. Audran is the older friend." 
 
 " About twenty-four hours, I think, Helen. Certainly 
 he is older in years." 
 
 " You had a great regard for his mother, had you 
 not?" asked Helen. 
 
 " Oh, yes, but she is dead and gone long ago. It is of 
 your mother, and not his, that you should be thinking 
 now. I know what the baron said to you, Helen. 
 What I want to know is, how he said it, and what you 
 answered." 
 
 " It will be time to go down to the baroness presently, 
 mamma. We could not discuss this matter if we be- 
 gan it." 
 
 " Now, Helen, no nonsense ! Of course it must all 
 be told to me, sooner or later. Don't be so absurd and 
 reserved ! " 
 
 "But, mother, it is not nice for me to come straight 
 and retail, even to you, what a gentleman intended for 
 me, and me alone." 
 
 20
 
 306 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 She rose to leave the room, and Mrs. Dysart, who 
 was full of curiosity, thought sportively to detain her by 
 slipping between her and the door. She sprang quickly 
 from her seat, and ran across the room. "You shall 
 not go, you provoking creature ! " she cried ; and even 
 as the words died on her lips, she threw up her arms, 
 tottered, fell against the wall, and then, with a low, 
 gurgling cry, sank upon the floor. 
 
 Terribly alarmed, Helen sprang to raise her. Her 
 face was livid, her eyes crossed, her limbs powerless, 
 but there seemed to be some consciousness. Helen 
 flung open the door, and screamed for help. Alice was 
 there in an instant ; together they lifted Mrs. Dysart and 
 bore her to the sofa, sprinkled water in her face, and 
 opened her dress at the throat and waist. 
 
 " Speak, mother, oh, speak ! " cried Helen in an agony. 
 
 A movement of intelligence passed across the dis- 
 torted face, the lips seemed to struggle in speech, and a 
 vague tone but no words issued from them. 
 
 The baroness, in the hall below, heard the call, and 
 came quickly. 
 
 " Has she fainted, Helen ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! I don't know what it is," she 
 sobbed. " We must have the doctor at once." 
 
 " It is not a faint," pronounced the baroness, after a 
 pause. " See, her color is better, and her breathing 
 almost natural. She is paralyzed. Let me call the 
 baron." 
 
 In another moment the baron entered. He studied 
 the half-unconscious woman for a while, and then said
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 307 
 
 gravely, "It is something very serious, I fear, apo- 
 plexy or paralysis, I cannot tell which." 
 
 " Go, Adolphe, send a messenger for Dr. d'Anvers, 
 describe the case in a line, go ! " 
 
 The baron rang, a servant entered. " Tell Jean Oinie 
 to saddle my black horse and come to the library." 
 
 He ran down stairs and wrote : 
 
 A M. LE DOCTEUR D'ANVERS, Colmar : A lady, 
 guest of our house, is stricken with unconsciousness; 
 her right side is powerless. Come yourself at once, with 
 any other doctor you may choose to consult with, and 
 telegraph to Paris for the best man in such cases. 
 
 ADOLPHE DE WALDEYER. 
 
 Then he returned to Mrs. Dysart's chamber, and 
 found them preparing to tnove her to her bed. 
 
 " Do not move her," he said, " until the doctor comes. 
 If it should prove apoplexy, and blood is pouring into 
 her brain, the mischief will be increased by every mo- 
 tion." 
 
 So they stood, helplessly watching the dying life or 
 the living death. 
 
 After a time the baron whispered, " I do not know, 
 of course, but it seems to me that if it were apoplexy, 
 by this time there would be increased pallor and a 
 weaker pulse. It strikes me as more like a paralytic 
 shock. Of those, you know, the first stroke is seldom 
 fatal, and there may be many years of interval." 
 
 " Shall we try to give her some restorative, eau de 
 vie, perhaps ? " said the baroness.
 
 308 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " I think not," he answered. " Her face is paralyzed ; 
 perhaps her throat may be also, and in that case it 
 might strangle her. The doctor will be here in an hour 
 and a half. Nothing should be done, in my opinion, 
 until he comes." 
 
 The hour and a half seemed interminable, but at 
 length the doctor arrived. He made deliberate exami- 
 nation of many details, questioned Helen minutely, 
 weighed and pondered, so that insensibly all felt that 
 when he spoke it would be with the weight of convic- 
 tion. His final question, " Was she ever seriously ill 
 with rheumatism, in the course of which her physicians 
 were anxious about the state of her heart ? " was an- 
 swered by Helen in the affirmative. 
 
 He placed his ear upon Mrs. Dysart's chest, and, 
 raising his head, pronounced, " This is not apoplexy ; it 
 is embolism. A little growth upon one of the heart- 
 valves has been detached by a sudden effort, and has 
 been swept along into one of the vessels of the brain, as 
 far as it might go ; there it rests, cutting off the blood- 
 supply of that part of the brain, and so causing loss of 
 power on one side of the body." 
 
 An hour later his -colleague, Dr. Jardin, arrived, and, 
 going through the same inquiries, pronounced the same 
 verdict. 
 
 The baroness anxiously asked for the probable issue 
 of the case, and was told that consciousness and motion 
 would return slowly, in the course of the next forty- 
 eight hours, and might thereafter improve. Loss of 
 speech would continue for an indefinite period, during
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 309 
 
 which a favorable or an unfavorable course might be 
 developed. More could not be stated with any cer- 
 tainty. Anxiety was inevitable, the doctor conceded, 
 but there were good grounds for hope. It would be no 
 surprising thing if the lady recovered so far as to enjoy 
 comfortable health for many years. No, there was no 
 special reason to anticipate any recurrence of the seiz- 
 ure at present. In accordance with Baron Waldeyer's 
 request, Dr. d'Anvers had telegraphed to Dr. Charcot 
 in Paris, but as yet had received no answer. 
 
 " Is there nothing that we can do for her now ? " said 
 the baroness. 
 
 " Absolutely nothing but to wait. I will call to- 
 morrow and observe progress." 
 
 The baroness followed the doctors down stairs. " Gen- 
 tlemen," she said, " I cannot explain how important it 
 is to us, and particularly to me, to know exactly what 
 we have to expect. Family matters of great concern 
 must be arranged during the lifetime of your patient. 
 Will she live a week ? " She looked intently at Dr. 
 d'Anvers, who bowed to his colleague and devolved the 
 responsibility of reply upon him. 
 
 " We have told you already, madame, that we hope 
 the lady's life may continue for years. An unfavorable 
 issue will hardly take place in a week. It is possible, 
 not probable." 
 
 " Then> may I ask you to carry a line from me to 
 Father Ladine ? " said the baroness. " And, for my 
 sake as well as for her own, let me urge upon you the 
 most exact and unremitting attention to my friend. In
 
 310 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 my house, of all places in the world, she must lack for 
 nothing which care can suggest or money provide." 
 She wrote a hasty line, and delivered it to them. 
 
 Late in the afternoon Father Ladine arrived, and was 
 closeted with the baroness for an hour. When he left, 
 he took with him a packet of papers, and an order on 
 her bankers for ten thousand francs. 
 
 Helen meantime had sent the following telegram to 
 New York, to be forwarded to her father : 
 
 " Mother has been stricken with paralysis. Recovery 
 will be slow, perhaps uncertain. Physicians call it cere- 
 bral embolism. Can you and Julia come ? Answer. 
 
 "H. D." 
 
 The following morning the physicians from Colmar, 
 with their distinguished Parisian confrere, carefully ex- 
 amined the patient, but could add nothing to the report 
 of the previous day. All was quite as well as could be 
 expected. 
 
 On the evening of the second day after the attack 
 Helen received the following despatch : 
 
 FOUNTAIN, COL., Aug. n. 
 
 Have telegraphed Julia to take to-morrow's steamer. 
 Send some one to meet her. Shall follow as soon as 
 possible. A. D. 
 
 A few hours later Julia telegraphed that she would 
 sail by the Hamburg steamer of the i3th, landing at 
 Cherbourg.
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 311 
 
 "This is the i3th," said Helen to Alice. "If they 
 have a ten days' passage, she can be at Cherbourg on 
 the 23d. It is a five days' journey from Colorado to 
 New York, Mr. Audran told me so. Father cannot 
 sail before the i6th or iyth, or be here before the 2Qth. 
 Oh, how will things be then, and how can we meet 
 him if mother should die ? " 
 
 At his third visit Dr. d'Anvers comforted them by 
 pronouncing Mrs. Dysart fairly conscious, and assuring 
 them that a return of speech might be soon anticipated. 
 " It will come gradually," he said. " At present her 
 ' ideas are hazy, and she has lost the association between 
 words and thoughts. We call it aphasia." 
 
 Helen never left her mother, except when the baroness 
 or Alice could persuade her to go out into the court or 
 corridor for a few moments of fresh air. All the ladies 
 were absorbed in the sick-room ; and the baron, Walter, 
 and Eugene employed the melancholy days as best they 
 might. 
 
 On the fourth day Mrs. Dysart spoke for the first 
 time, feebly and indistinctly, " Helen, where am I ? " 
 
 " Here in your own bed, mother dear." 
 
 " What is the matter with my limbs, this one, this 
 side ? I can't move it." 
 
 "They are weak, mother. By and by you will be 
 able to move." 
 
 " What is it, Helen ? " 
 
 " Some kind of a shock, mother. You fell the other 
 day, and you have been very drowsy since, that 's all." 
 
 " Whose house is this ? "
 
 312 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " Madame Waldeyer's." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I remember. What a trouble to her ! " 
 
 " It won't be, mother, if you will only get well." 
 
 " Does your father know, Helen ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Julia will be here in a week, and papa in 
 two." 
 
 " Oh, that 's good. What makes my head so 
 strange ? " 
 
 " Don't think and don't talk so much, dear mother." 
 
 " Where 's my boy ? Where 's Eugene ? " 
 
 " Close by. I will call him, mother." 
 
 Eugene came, and his mother kissed him, and said, 
 " Don't be worried, dear Eugene. I shall get well. 
 Now let me see the baroness." 
 
 The baroness came, bent over the bed and kissed 
 Mrs. Dysart. 
 
 " I am a sore trouble to you, Baroness." 
 
 " You are my treasure, dear madame. God send that 
 I may keep you until I can give you back well to your 
 friends ! " 
 
 " My husband ? " 
 
 " He will come to his wife. Your daughter will come 
 to her mother. I shall be so proud and happy to see 
 you all together, and to be permitted to serve you." 
 
 " Is he your husband, too ? " 
 
 " He is not, he never could be. Only yours, 
 yours always." 
 
 " You will not trouble him ? " 
 
 " I will never trouble him, and I will always love you. 
 Now be still, dear friend, and rest,"
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 313 
 
 " You will always be good to Helen ? " 
 
 "As good as she will allow me to be," said the 
 baroness, drawing Helen toward her. 
 
 " Very well, I will sleep, then," murmured Mrs. Dy- 
 sart ; and she dropped off into partial unconsciousness 
 again. 
 
 From that time there was steady improvement, and 
 the apprehensions of the watchers gradually subsided. 
 The common interest of their mutual employment, and 
 their constant and intimate association, made Helen 
 and the baroness perfectly at ease with each other be- 
 fore the week was over. Only with reference to her 
 relations to Mr. Audran there was a reserve which 
 Madame Waldeyer did not dare assail. 
 
 Thus the days passed until the aoth, and Julia was 
 due at Cherbourg on the 23d. Mr. Dysart had requested 
 that some one should be sent to meet her there. Helen 
 proposed Eugene. 
 
 " But pray let the baron accompany him," said Ma- 
 dame Waldeyer. " We were speaking of it last night, 
 and he begged me to say that he should feel very much 
 honored by being allowed to share in the charge of 
 your sister." 
 
 " How very good he is ! " said Helen. " It is like his 
 giving up the trip across the mountains to escort mamma 
 to Geneva. There is no interruption and no end to the 
 goodness of both of you. You have brought all sorts 
 of trouble on yourselves by it." 
 
 " And I have gained all I wished by means of it," said 
 the baroness. " Except for Mrs. Dysart's illness, your
 
 314 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 visit would be the best and greatest pleasure which I 
 could have had ; and since, as we hope, this illness is 
 now passing away, even that, by bringing Mr. Dysart 
 here, will hasten the solution of our relations to each 
 other, relations which, so long as they remain un- 
 adjusted, are a trouble to us all." 
 
 The baroness spoke with an easy confidence which 
 Helen and Mrs. Dysart could not share and did not 
 understand. To them it seemed that this meeting, at 
 best, must be an awkward one, and might easily be haz- 
 ardous. But there was something so serene and so 
 affectionate in the baroness's manner, that they could 
 not doubt that she saw her way out of all difficulties, 
 and that, like her other ways, it would prove graceful 
 and kind. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart, however, was troubled. She looked 
 long at the baroness, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Don't cry, Mrs. Dysart ! " said Madame Waldeyer. 
 " Oh, pray don't ! It is so bad for you." 
 
 " How can I help it, Madame Waldeyer? How can 
 I forget that my husband, who has been all my own, 
 comes to find me helpless, half-dead, bewildered, weak, 
 a burden to him and to every one, and comes to com- 
 pare me with you, his first love, still so fresh and so 
 fair? If you have won all our hearts and taken pos- 
 session of our lives, what will it be with him ? If the 
 law says that you are still his wife, that you still belong 
 to him and he belongs to you, if life belongs to life 
 and abhors death, what am I, and what is to become 
 of me ? "
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 315 
 
 The baroness smiled through tears as she answered, 
 " I don't think I ought to talk with you at all about 
 this now. It was very wrong in me to allow your mind 
 to turn to these matters. You are still too weak and 
 confused to know clearly what you do think, and these 
 are very sick fancies of yours. But still I must just 
 remind you that women of our age belong to the past 
 and not to the future. It is for what we have been, and 
 not for what we are or may be, that we are prized, after 
 fifty. 
 
 " I am a proud woman, I believe ; still, all I demand 
 of Mr. Dysart now is his charity. I was a dreadful trial 
 to him for one year of his life ; and when, by no fault 
 of his, the tie of our unnatural relation loosened, I am 
 sure that, for all his sorrow, there must have been an im- 
 mense relief. Nor am I less sure that in the wife whom 
 he chose from all others because she suited him, he has 
 found and still finds all that he failed to find in me. 
 
 " When I spoke of relations to be adjusted, I thought 
 only of the peace and security which such adjustment 
 would bring to you, not of myself. 
 
 " There is a great deal more to be said about this, 
 but we will leave it now. Meanwhile, let us settle about 
 your daughter's arrival. I am so anxious to see her! 
 Perhaps, if she turns out another Helen, I shall want 
 to claim her too. It is for your children, Mrs. Dysart, 
 that I envy you. Has Miss Julia ever been in Eu- 
 rope ? " 
 
 " No," said Helen. " It will all be new to her, new 
 and very strange, landing alone, perhaps in the middle
 
 3l6 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 of the night. I believe those German steamers stop 
 only an hour or so at Cherbourg to deliver mails and 
 passengers." 
 
 " For that very reason the baron must surely go for 
 her," said Madame Waldeyer, " and they must start 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Since you and he propose it," said Helen, " it will 
 really be a great comfort to have him accompany Eu- 
 gene. I shall be glad to have him see my sister. They 
 will like each other, I ana sure." 
 
 " Is she so much like you, then ? " asked the baroness, 
 with a curious smile. 
 
 " She is much younger than I, and full of life, very 
 impulsive and entertaining. She is not blasee or con- 
 ventional in the least. The baron will like her, I know. 
 I will run down to thank him, if you can spare me a 
 few minutes." 
 
 " Yes, go down, all of you," said Mrs. Dysart. " Ma- 
 rie will stay with me while you are at dinner. Then 
 send Eugene up, and you two girls stay and make a 
 pleasant evening for the gentlemen." 
 
 After much discussion of the proposed journey, Helen 
 asked, " Can I telegraph Julia at Plymouth ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said the baron, " if you do so at once." 
 
 Helen wrote : 
 
 " Mother doing well ; anxious to see you. Baron W. 
 and Eugene meet you at Cherbourg." 
 
 " And I am so glad you will," said . she, turning to 
 the baron with her loveliest smile. " Queen Jule, you 
 know, Eugene. It suits her to be attended by lords
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 317 
 
 and marshals. She will believe all I have written her 
 about our friends here." 
 
 After dinner Eugene and the baroness went to Mrs. 
 Dysart, Walter led Alice away for a walk by the river, 
 and Helen and the baron were left in the salon. 
 
 The baron wanted the opportunity to speak without 
 interruption, so he beguiled her first to the porch, and 
 then to the pavilion ; and Helen went, knowing full 
 well what was to come, and studying with herself how 
 she might dismiss a lover without recourse or appeal, 
 and yet retain a friend whose interest and confidence 
 she was anxious to preserve. 
 
 The baron was not long in beginning. "You must 
 know, Miss Dysart, how tedious have been these days, 
 in which I have barely been able to get sight, and rarely 
 speech, of you. You must feel that I cannot rest con- 
 tent with the issue of our last conversation, or wait 
 much longer before renewing it. This was inevitable.; 
 and yet you come willingly to this spot, where once you 
 saw what was deepest and strongest in my heart." 
 
 " More than willingly, Baron. I value your interest 
 and esteem too highly to vex you with any delay or 
 uncertainty ; and now I want to know what I can do to 
 cure you of any warmer feeling." 
 
 " There is no cure for love but more love, Helen." 
 
 " Indeed there is, and you shall find it. There are 
 two good reasons why you must not ask for more than 
 the friendship which now exists between us. Either of 
 them is sufficient ; at any rate, they must control me. 
 The first is, that I could not listen to you without being
 
 3l8 MANUEL A PAREDES. 
 
 false to another ; and the second, that I do not believe, 
 I could ever feel for you what I feel for him, or give you 
 the response which your love deserves and will com- 
 mand from some one better suited to you than I. 
 
 " You see I am trying to make my words as plain as 
 I can. I am thus frank with you, because I want you 
 to believe me, and to be sure that I know my own mind 
 in this matter ; and now if you will only believe my 
 words to be equally sincere, those in which I implore 
 your friendship, and those in which I refuse any other 
 sentiment you can proffer me." 
 
 The baron had covered his face with both his hands 
 as Helen spoke, and when she ceased he did not at 
 once remove them. At length he said bitterly, " There 
 is no hope for me then, Helen, nothing but a dis- 
 appointment deeper than you can measure. What am I 
 to do with this forbidden love of mine ? O Helen, what 
 might what might not you do for me ! " 
 
 " Perhaps I see farther than you do. If I were go- 
 ing forever out and away from your sphere, never to 
 meet you again, I should grieve to lose whatever in- 
 fluence I have with you. But that will not be. Which- 
 ever way it comes about, there must always be close 
 relations between the baroness and myself. I know her 
 now for my mother, and she is wonderful and admirable 
 to me. One cannot condemn her past life without con- 
 demning that which is also her greatest charm, her 
 endless and immeasurable devotion to those whom she 
 loves. You and I and your wife, when you have one 
 are to share and return this love, and with her and
 
 THE PASSING CLOUD. 319 
 
 with each other our lives are to be bound. We two 
 should be as brother and sister. Think of me as such, 
 and all that a sister may give to a brother, all that a 
 sister may seek from a brother, shall pass and pass 
 again between us. 
 
 " It was with this thought that I tried to stop your 
 words the other day, and that I came so readily to talk 
 with you now. Do you understand it ? " 
 
 " What a woman you are, Helen, tender and re- 
 morseless, sweet and bitter, in a breath ! You will not 
 love, nor let any one else love, except just as you think 
 best. What sort of a man must this favored lover, 
 Major Audran, be ? " 
 
 " Fie, Baron ! You should not use that or any other 
 name in such connection until I give you leave. But 
 do not think I have any apologies to make for him. 
 We are not pledged to each other in words, and it may 
 be that there will be nothing between us in future ; but 
 because of what has been and what is, I will let no 
 other man call himself my lover at present. We must 
 not talk about this any more. I want to tell you about 
 Julia. She is a royal girl, magnanimous, full of en- 
 thusiasm and prejudice, brilliant and shy and sincere. 
 You must not imagine that any one mood which you 
 happen to note is the whole of her. If you should 
 suppose yourself to have taken her measure and to 
 have found her limit, she will be apt to astonish you. 
 But of one thing you may be sure : her words proceed 
 straight from her heart, and are not kept and dressed 
 for occasion. She is coming over now under a great
 
 320 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 cloud of anxiety, but I hope she will find a telegram 
 from me when she reaches Plymouth, so that her mind 
 will be relieved, and you may see something of her 
 bright usual self. 
 
 " Now let us go back to the house, or they will think 
 you are making love to me, which would be a great 
 mistake. You never will do so again, will you ? "
 
 ENTER JULIA. 321 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ENTER JULIA. 
 
 * I ^HE baron and Eugene started early on the follow- 
 * ing morning. Alice and Walter accompanied 
 them as far as Colmar, and brought back the letters 
 from the post-office. There was one, with the Roman 
 post-mark, for the baroness, and one, with the stamp of 
 Monroe & Co., Paris, for Helen. 
 
 Both ladies seemed in very good spirits that afternoon. 
 The baroness was also pleased with the arrival of a 
 high-backed chair, fitted with rings and poles, which 
 came from Paris, and said to Mrs. Dysart, " You must 
 begin to use this now, so that when Mr. Dysart comes 
 you can be carried all about the house and grounds 
 with him. Further travel I forbid, for a long time to 
 come." 
 
 Helen's letter was written the day after Mr. Audran's 
 arrival at Fountain. He made no mention of the Dun- 
 phy adventure, beyond saying that Mr. Dysart had re- 
 covered his papers, but wrote with spirit and hopeful- 
 ness of his own affairs, as well as of the memories and 
 hopes of which she was the central figure. 
 
 That same evening, at the agency of the steamships 
 in Paris, the baron learned that the " Frisia " would 
 
 21
 
 322 MANUELA PA&&DES. 
 
 hardly reach Plymouth in less than ten days from New 
 York, and Cherbourg some twelve hours later. There 
 was no need, therefore, to hasten from Paris ; so in the 
 morning he called at the Elyse, and, after a long con- 
 ference with President McMahon, accepted a proposi- 
 tion which had been made to him some months before, 
 and was now renewed with urgency, to go to the United 
 States, in nominal connection with the French embassy 
 at Washington, but with a commission to investigate 
 military affairs. He was to go when convenient, to re- 
 side where he might choose, and to remain as long as 
 occasion should require. 
 
 Early in the morning of the second day the " Frisia " 
 was reported off Penzance ; would be due in Plymouth 
 at eleven o'clock, would sail again at three, and proba- 
 bly reach Cherbourg at midnight. Eugene and the 
 baron therefore took the train at noon, reached Cher- 
 bourg in the evening, and at midnight were on board 
 the little tender which ran outside the breakwater to 
 await the coming of the steamer. 
 
 Overhead the stars were shining in the deep blue of 
 a cloudless night, but a veil of fog lay upon the dark 
 water, and hid the sleeping town. Here and there a 
 nebulous point of light showed, where some vessel lay 
 at anchor, completely shrouded in darkness and mist. 
 Against the incoming tide the little tug ran stiffly out 
 half a mile or more, and lay to with just movement 
 enough to stem the current. Half an hour in chilly 
 expectation they stood, with faces turned seaward ; then 
 a yellow, a green, a red light shone through the cur-
 
 ENTER JULIA. ' 323 
 
 tain of the damp, and in a moment more the vast black 
 hull of the steamship rose right above them. In another 
 moment the tug lay alongside. A port was opened be- 
 low, a gang-plank shot out, and a file of sailors, each 
 with a mail-sack on his shoulders, trotted out and back. 
 Next, a section of the bulwark above was removed, a 
 movable stairway lowered, one gold-embroidered officer 
 at the top held a lantern high, while another led by 
 the hand the solitary passenger who desired to land at 
 Cherbourg. Step by step, in the beam of light, the 
 slender, gray-cloaked figure descended. 
 
 "Here we 'are, Julia!" cried Eugene; and as she 
 touched the deck he took her in his arms and kissed 
 her. 
 
 " How is mother ? " were her first words, and " Get- 
 ting well fast," the encouraging answer. 
 
 " And Helen ? and Alice ? " 
 
 "Very well also, all are well. Now, Jule, this is 
 Baron Waldeyer, come with me to meet you." 
 
 The baron delivered, with the precision of a soldier, 
 his most profound and conventional bow ; and Julia 
 mentally ejaculated, " Heavens ! how stiff ! " 
 
 " I hope mademoiselle has not suffered from her 
 voyage," he remarked courteously. 
 
 " Thanks ; not in the least. I was not sick at all, 
 but so impatient to get here. Where are we ? Where 
 is Cherbourg ? " 
 
 "Scarcely half a mile, in that direction." said the 
 baron, pointing to the bow of the boat, now moving 
 rapidly southward.
 
 324 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " And what are we to do when we get there ? How 
 soon can we leave for Colraar ? " 
 
 " At nine o'clock in the morning," said the baron. 
 " This must have been a disturbed night to you, Miss 
 Dysart. You will need sleep, I should think." 
 
 " Yes, if only one could sleep at will," looking at her 
 watch. " It is nearly four now, and it would seem ab- 
 surd to go to bed at daybreak in a strange hotel. I 
 suspect I have the advantage of you, gentlemen. We 
 left Plymouth at three, and I slept from eight until I 
 was called at one. When did you arrive in Cher- 
 bourg?" 
 
 " About nine, and we also had three or four hours of 
 sleep. I am afraid you will find the delay a long and 
 dull one if you cannot sleep." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Julia ; " I shall have my trunks to 
 look over, and my letters. Have you not brought me 
 letters, Eugene ? " 
 
 "Positively, I had forgotten them," said the boy. 
 " Here they are, one from Helen and one from 
 Alice." 
 
 "And I bring one also from my sister," added the 
 baron. "It conveys, I presume, the welcome which I 
 am sure she feels, and has charged me to express for 
 her in all ways which are possible. I think, however, 
 that Miss Dysart carries her welcome with her wherever 
 she goes ; and I am sure there is no house anywhere 
 which would not be honored by receiving Miss Helen 
 Dysart's sister." 
 
 "You are very good," said Julia, "and both of us
 
 ENTER JULIA. 325 
 
 ought to be exceedingly obliged to you. Dear Helen ! 
 it is not the first time that she has won place and con- 
 sideration for us all." 
 
 The boat had now reached the quay, and they drove 
 through the dark streets to the hotel, where a sleepy 
 concierge received them, and conducted Julia to her 
 chamber. She drew a chair to the window, threw open 
 the closed shutters, and sat down to watch the tree-tops 
 swaying in the night-wind and the gray dawn creeping 
 over the eastern sky. " How very kind in the baron to 
 come all this way for me ! " she thought. " He adores 
 Helen, evidently, and they mean to make it impossible 
 for us to refuse her to them. I must see what the 
 baroness has to say. It seems to me I should have 
 found it difficult to write at all had I been in her 
 position." 
 
 She opened the letter, and in the growing daylight 
 read : 
 
 HOHENTAUBEN, August 2O. 
 
 MY DEAR Miss DYSART, Your brother and Baron 
 Waldeyer will at once relieve your mind of anxiety 
 about your mother. Of her I need only say that she 
 has been the most charming of invalids, and her rapid 
 recovery, which is now almost complete, has relieved us 
 from a great fear and sorrow. 
 
 The baron will also, for himself and for me, bid you 
 welcome to Hohentauben. It is to be our great pleas- 
 ure to receive your entire family, and it is my hope to 
 win from you all consent as to my future relations to
 
 326 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 Helen. Beautiful and lovely as she is, the unceasing 
 object of my dreams and hopes through all the years 
 when she did not know of my existence, she has become 
 now so dear and necessary to me that I cannot bear to 
 lose sight of her. If it is right for me to devote the 
 remainder of my life to her service, can it be wrong for 
 you to allow me to do so ? 
 
 Will you deny me the opportunity to make such 
 atonement for the past as I may ? Providence has 
 favored me with this unexpected opportunity of plead- 
 ing my cause at once and before you all. If I cannot 
 succeed now, I can never hope to do so. Dear Miss 
 Julia, you won't prevent it, will you? You will not 
 recall whatever I may have won from Helen and your 
 mother ? 
 
 It is right, because it is necessary, that I, an old 
 woman, should sue to you, a young one, and yet I am 
 not wont to sue. I hope, and I shall not cease to hope, 
 that I may yet owe no less to your confidence than to 
 your kindness. 
 
 But I will not write further of that of which I can so 
 much better speak ; so I will only say that though, in 
 the security of a lifetime of love, you must know how 
 glad your mother and Helen will be to see you again, 
 you cannot possibly realize how much I too await your 
 coming, as a great pleasure and a great boon. Helen's 
 sister is secure of love and honor and welcome at Ho- 
 hentauben whenever she may come. 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 MANUELA DE WALDEYER.
 
 ENTER JULIA. 327 
 
 Julia read and re-read this letter to find both what it 
 declared and what it concealed, and came to the conclu- 
 sion that it concealed nothing, and was indeed the frank 
 utterance of a proud and affectionate woman. " She 
 means to make us admit that she did no wrong, or that, 
 because she has perhaps lived a decent life and culti- 
 vated her own moral nature, she has not outraged ours," 
 she said to herself. " But that is a great deal for us 
 to admit. On the other hand, one cannot think worse 
 of her for attempting it : there is nothing ignoble, there 
 seems to be everything worthy, in her purpose and her 
 methods. They are natural to her, and generous to us. 
 Putting aside all interested and selfish considerations, 
 what should we gain by wounding and defying her ? 
 Should we go away with a better opinion of ourselves ? 
 Would it be a pleasant memory to cherish, that we had 
 kept ourselves aloof, and bidden her to grow old and 
 die childless and forlorn ? Is there any doubt that, 
 except for one brief passage in her life, she has been 
 more guileless and more high-minded, more free from 
 envy and malice and all uncharitableness, than many, 
 than most women ? 
 
 " Father will be here in three days. It is for him to 
 determine what our attitude shall be. I should only 
 compromise him in one way or another by any expres- 
 sion which the baroness might draw from me in advance. 
 I will wait, and go on with him. I can telegraph him at 
 Queenstown to join us in Paris ; and I will dismiss the 
 baron, if he desires to go. Eugene and I can surely 
 take care of ourselves for three days. Now I must let 
 them know."
 
 328 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 She unpacked her portfolio, and wrote first to 
 Helen : 
 
 DEAR NELL, Eugene has so fully assured me about 
 mamma that I think I shall wait until I can invade your 
 new abode under the protection of my father. I am 
 afraid of compromising some one by an interview with 
 the baroness, who has written me an adroit and effective 
 letter. 
 
 The voyage was comfortable, and I am very well, and 
 very much pleased and flattered by the politeness of the 
 baron. Please thank the baroness in my name for her 
 very graceful welcome. I shall telegraph to papa as 
 soon as I know at what hotel in Paris we are to stay. 
 
 Just now, between midnight and daybreak, I find my- 
 self set down in some sort of a place in Cherbourg. I 
 can't see much, so far, but it seems well enough ; though 
 the shapes of the forts and towers in this gray dawn, and 
 the trees tossing in the morning wind over a strange 
 land and sea, are somewhat eerie and dreary. 
 
 Give my love to mother and Alice. Three days more 
 will bring me to them and you. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 i JULIA. 
 
 The sun was rising over the headland of Cape Levi, 
 and the rocks and woods of Cotentin lay dewy and 
 deep in shadow, when Eugene knocked at the door. 
 She admitted him, and the boy said, " The baron and I 
 have been trying to sleep, but it was no go. How has it 
 been with you ? "
 
 ENTER JULIA. 329 
 
 " I have been writing, Eugene. I think I will not go 
 beyond Paris until papa comes." 
 
 " Very well. Two or three days in that lively little 
 town won't be bad, considering that it is your first visit. 
 I rather like Paris myself." 
 
 "And," added Julia, " I want to telegraph to father at 
 what hotel to look for us, and I don't want to detain 
 Baron Waldeyer. I shall tell him so this morning. He 
 won't think it rude, will he ? " 
 
 " That depends," answered Eugene, " on how and why 
 you do it. Baron Waldeyer is not a man likely to fail in 
 understanding the meaning of such an act. He is aw- 
 fully soft on Helen, did you know it ? " 
 
 " But if Helen is ' soft,' as you say, on Mr. Audran, I 
 should not think she would encourage the baron. I won- 
 der that the baron did n't fancy Alice instead." 
 
 " It would n't have worked, if he had. She 's pro- 
 vided for. She just angled gently, you know for 
 Walter Audran, and he rose ; and now she 's gone, hook 
 and line, bob and sinker." 
 
 " Is it so bad as that ? " said Julia. 
 
 " There 's nothing bad about it," said Eugene. " Wal- 
 ter 's a trump ; he '11 be a tip-top lawyer, one of these 
 days." 
 
 " Is Alice fond of him too ? " 
 
 " What do you mean, Jule ? Does she go mooning 
 about, tearful and distraite, when he is gone, and 
 twisting and clinging when he is near ? Not much ! 
 She and Helen air their affections in lofty style, I can 
 assure you, when they air them at all."
 
 330 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " Is n't it a part of the baroness's plan to make a 
 match between Helen and the baron ? I should think 
 it would naturally be." 
 
 " She 's no match-maker, Julia : there 's nothing under- 
 hand about the baroness. She 's grand, I tell you." 
 
 " How can a woman who has done as she has done 
 be grand ? " 
 
 " She is grand because she is so impulsive and affec- 
 tionate and sincere. Whenever she has loved, it has 
 been with her whole heart and soul ; and it was neces- 
 sary to her happiness that she should be paid in kind. 
 She would have devotion, and the governor could n't 
 or would n't give it, and so she left him ; and I cannot 
 blame her so much. A man has no business to scant or 
 scrimp such a woman." 
 
 "Eugene, you are shocking, positively shocking! 
 Had she any right to forget her vows and his honor and 
 her child ? " 
 
 " No, I don't excuse her. It was a bad business, any 
 way ; but it was a choice between two wrongs, and I 
 don't say she did right ; but certainly, as it turned out, 
 she was lucky. Baron Waldeyer suited her to a T; and 
 they walked hand in hand, with their heads in the air, 
 as long as he lived." 
 
 " Well, how does she feel toward my father now ? " 
 
 "There is no pique or temper about her. She has a 
 great respect and regard for father, because of the rela- 
 tion in which she once stood to him, that 's all." 
 
 "Well, if she spurned and slighted him, and your 
 mother and mine took him up, then she cheapens both
 
 ENTER JULIA. 331 
 
 him and our mother ; and do' you suppose she or we 
 are going to stand that, from a woman who is no 
 better than she should be ? Are we going to give up 
 and come down, and put both our pride and our princi- 
 ple in our pockets ? " 
 
 " O Julia, don't be so uncompromising ! Everybody 
 in this wicked world goes amiss in some way or other, 
 and we forgive them as we hope to be forgiven. Shall 
 we be placable and compliant to every form of wrong 
 and meanness but one, and savage and vindictive over 
 that ? Can't you imagine that there is and has been so 
 much good about the woman, now'and for these many 
 years, that it would be shameful not to overlook an 
 error of her unhappy and frantic youth ? Before God, I 
 believe she has lifted her soul toward light and love 
 with such purpose and energy as not one human being 
 in thousands is capable of, and that in that respect her 
 example would elevate the best of us ! 
 
 " Why, Jule, think of it ! Unless our existence is a 
 misfortune and a mistake, we children ought not to 
 regret her act. Our life, whatever good there is in it, 
 could not have been unless she had left our father. 
 If we cannot regret it, ought we to be so sharp in con- 
 demning it ? " 
 
 "Do they all think as you do, Eugene, mother and 
 all ? If they do, I may as well give up and come down ; 
 but I should like to ask you, young man, what is going 
 to become of society if such views become general ? " 
 
 " There it is again ! Such views never can become 
 general. What is to hinder us from taking each case
 
 332 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 on its private merits? What reason is there for not 
 doing so ? The sooner society gets rid of formulas and 
 conventions, the better for it ! I did not come here, 
 however, for this kind of discussion. I came to say 
 that the baron is worried to have you kept so long in 
 this stupid hotel, and he suggests that we should break- 
 fast at seven, and drive for a couple of hours before the 
 train goes at nine. 
 
 " You know Cherbourg is one of the great fortresses 
 of Europe, the mailed hand of France closed in the 
 face of England. Will you go ? He said I was not to 
 tease you, but just find out what you would like." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I should like it immensely," said Julia; 
 " but first I must telegraph to papa." 
 
 And together they concocted the following message : 
 
 CHERBOURG, August 26. 
 
 ADRIAN DYSART, STEAMER CELTIC, ARRIVING AT 
 QUEENSTOWN, IRELAND, Mother nearly well. Will 
 wait for you at Hotel Splendide, Paris. J. & E. D. 
 
 "Now," said Julia, "send me some rolls and coffee 
 here, and I will come down to the lodge in half an 
 hour." 
 
 It was but little after seven when they started on 
 their excursion. Over the deep, damp green of the 
 hillsides they drove to the top of the ridge, which com- 
 mands a perfect view of the cordon of great forts which 
 converge their fire upon the breakwater and the road- 
 stead. The baron knew the history of the place, and
 
 ENTER JULIA. 333 
 
 told it in such a way as to make it both interesting and 
 memorable. Afterwards they were driven inside one 
 of the forts, and its construction was explained. The 
 commandant, recognizing in the baron his superior offi- 
 cer, turned out the whole garrison for inspection and 
 guard-mounting, and the barbette guns thundered forth 
 a salute. 
 
 This programme, so novel and unexpected to the 
 young people, and the distinction which marked her 
 arrival on these strange shores, greatly impressed Julia, 
 and she looked very stately and brilliant as she bowed 
 to either side, in response to the salute of the glittering 
 ranks between which they issued from the sally-port of 
 the fortress. 
 
 When, half an hour later, they were seated in the 
 railway coupe which the baron had secured, she said, 
 with perfect sincerity, " I never expected to understand 
 any strange place and scene so well as I do this, thanks 
 to you, Baron Waldeyer. The frontispiece of my book 
 of Europe is clear and sharp enough, however vague 
 other pictures may be." 
 
 " You are very good, mademoiselle. I feared that I 
 might have wearied you with so many purely military 
 details." 
 
 " I enjoyed it of all things," said Julia. " It is always 
 a treat to listen to experts. One is not always lucky 
 enough to find an expert who is both soldier and en- 
 gineer, like yourself. You know it is the current opin- 
 ion that Americans are very inquisitive, and I fear you 
 will agree with current opinion presently ; for there
 
 334 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 are some questions I want to ask, only you are not to 
 answer any which seem perplexing or compromising. 
 Your home is in Alsace, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Then you are a citizen of the German Empire ? " 
 
 "At present, yes, by the fortune of war." 
 
 " But did not the fortune of war, in this case, restore 
 to Germany that which was originally her own ? Is not 
 Alsace, in every way, more truly a part of Germany than 
 of France, and was it not actually so before the war 
 of 1870?" 
 
 " I do not think we exactly admit that. Alsace had 
 been an integral part of France for a hundred and 
 seventy-three years. More than six generations of its 
 people had been citizens of France." 
 
 " But," said Julia, " I notice that all the names on 
 my map of Alsace are German names ; and I have 
 somewhere seen it stated that, to nine out of ten of the 
 people, the German is the mother-tongue. They are 
 cut off from France by a mountain range over which 
 are few highways, and they are united to Germany by 
 the Rhine, a river which rises in German-speaking 
 lands, and draws all its commerce from German ports. 
 
 " I am a democrat, you know, and believe that a 
 country belongs to its own people. If the Alsatians 
 are Germans, why should they not remain so ? A cen- 
 tury or two of French occupation has not made it French, 
 and it has easily reverted to its German relations." 
 
 " Mademoiselle will pardon me, but might she not as 
 well say that, by the same arguments, the United States
 
 ENTER JULIA. 335 
 
 still belong to England, or would do so if she for a time 
 could hold possession of them ? Is it possible that 
 mademoiselle's sympathies were not with France in the 
 German war, and she an American, and America the old 
 and natural ally of France ? " 
 
 " It is not a question of sympathies, Baron ; and if it 
 were, you know that we had not much love for France 
 during our late war. She took the occasion of our dif- 
 ficulties to attempt to establish her own dominion on 
 our continent. I come from the Northern States, and 
 we know there that France as well as England was 
 jealous, as well she may be, of our industrial North, 
 and at heart wished that the agricultural South might 
 triumph over the North, whose manufactures press those 
 of other nations so hard in all the markets of the world. 
 Just now my sympathies are less with France than with 
 Baron Waldeyer of Hohentauben." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, mademoiselle. And 
 does this conversation turn on his interests, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. It seems to me this baron is in a difficult 
 position. His heart is in France, and his home in Ger- 
 many. What is to become of him in case of another 
 war ? " 
 
 " I trust mademoiselle does not doubt where he will 
 be then. A French soldier who has served his country 
 in the Crimea, in Algiers, and in Mexico, in three 
 quarters of the globe, will not fail her when her own 
 soil and her own life are in danger." 
 
 " But if you, a citizen of Germany, should take up 
 arms against her, you would be a rebel, would n't you ? "
 
 336 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " Certainly, mademoiselle, I shall be a rebel." 
 
 " And your estates will be confiscated to the Empire ? " 
 
 " Possibly, for a time." 
 
 " Permanently, if France be again vanquished. Is it 
 not so ? " 
 
 " It might be, mademoiselle ; but now again I am 
 sure of your sympathy. When next we fight it will be 
 as a republic, offering government for the people and 
 by the people (as your great Lincoln said) to all Europe, 
 weary of phantom empires and decrepit dynasties. We 
 wait only until the republic has fully settled its princi- 
 ples, has deserved and has won the confidence of the 
 nation and the respect of other nations. The French 
 Republic in 1793 went forth, bold and wild, to preach a 
 gospel of chaotic ideas to a world not yet ripe for them. 
 She will go again, invincible as before, but now serene 
 and justified. The people everywhere will receive her 
 as their champion. The progress of her arms may 
 meet reverses, but I have no fear for the final result, 
 and no interests which I would wish to exempt from its 
 scope. I am not thankful for any protection which 
 Kaiser Wilhelm extends to the Barony of Hohentauben, 
 and the time in which he will have the power to do it 
 harm is short." 
 
 " You have no sympathy, then, with the other factions 
 which aspire to rule France ? " said Julia. 
 
 " Neither sympathy nor respect," answered the baron ; 
 " for the stupid bigot at Frohsdorf least of all. For the 
 Orleans princes, I think them thrifty commercial men, 
 speculators and time-servers, but incapable of under-
 
 ENTER JULIA. 337 
 
 standing in what the true glory and grandeur of France 
 consists. For the Napoleonists, they are egotists and 
 fatalists, who, in their ambitious and necromantic visions, 
 would sacrifice France to " les id6es Napoliennes." 
 
 " But do you not fear the Socialists ? " 
 
 " Not under the republic. The Mountain and the 
 Commune are but the wild reaction against arbitrary 
 power and undeserved privilege. In our large cities 
 they may continue to exist, for there social distinctions 
 will be most marked and most offensive ; but they will 
 not prevail over the sense and the virtue of united 
 France. No, mademoiselle ; the disasters of 1870, in 
 sweeping away the idea of personal government, in 
 forcing us anew and in the most sober mood to study the 
 social problem, in laying upon us the yoke of sacrifice 
 and labor, have indeed regenerated France. Here the 
 revolution'is nearly complete, and it only remains for us 
 to guide and moderate its forces as it rolls anew over 
 Europe." 
 
 "You believe it must come, then ? When ? " 
 
 " Ah ! that I do not know. It will be whenever the 
 nations are for a time freed from the pressure of foreign 
 war. While that continues, the attention is turned to 
 the frontier. The armies absorb the thought and the 
 industry of the nations, and the loans which feed them 
 do not at first become burdensome. It is when the 
 disease is quieted on the surface that it returns to feed 
 on the vitals of the state. It is ever in the feasts of 
 triumph that the handwriting on the wall is seen." 
 
 " Oh, how dreadful it must be," said Julia, " to live 
 22
 
 338 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 with such forebodings, to watch the thunder-cloud 
 rising, and to know that it will surely wrap you in its 
 gloom, perhaps shatter you with its fire ! " 
 
 " It is a solemn thing, certainly," answered the baron ; 
 " but such epochs arise in the life of every nation. Your 
 own has but just emerged from one, whose horror one 
 of your early Presidents foresaw when he said, ' I trem- 
 ble for my country when I remember that God is just.' 
 It is only by such convulsions that old errors are up- 
 rooted ; and it is in such periods that the best work of 
 the world is done, the work which remains and is 
 remembered. Is it not your Longfellow who recalls to 
 you ' the time that tried men's souls ' ? 
 
 ' What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
 In what a forge, with what a heat, 
 Were shaped the anchors of your hope I ' " 
 
 " And you, Baron ? " 
 
 " I hope to be used while there is use in me, and to 
 stand out of the way when I can no longer be service- 
 able. I would invert the words of Louis XIV. and say, 
 ' Moi, c' est T etat.' " 
 
 " Well," said Julia, " I have certainly used my Yankee 
 gift of questioning to purpose this time. Thanks to it, 
 I now know Baron Waldeyer better than I could have 
 done in weeks of mere observation." 
 
 "Ah, mademoiselle, how very unlike all others are 
 your American young ladies ! It is not in yourself only 
 that I have observed this quick way of studying people 
 and character. I do not know whether I am not cha-
 
 ENTER JULIA. 339 
 
 grined to have exploited my position so readily and so 
 fully." 
 
 "Let me reassure you, then, Baron. I fancy that we 
 study only what we believe to be worth knowing ; and 
 words which come, like yours, from the conscience 
 and the reason, are sure of attention and respect. It 
 is delightful to find a French gentleman and sol- 
 dier who knows so well our American history and 
 literature." 
 
 " It is the astonishing success and greatness of your 
 nation, revealed daily in a stronger light, which draws 
 all eyes to your methods. It is the sense and force 
 with which Wheaton and Motley and Gushing read the 
 puzzling scroll of European affairs that convinces us 
 that we may, if we will, learn much of you. More than 
 that, it is the erect and untrammelled mode of thinking 
 and expression which we see in so many Americans, 
 men and women, which shows us that, either in or out 
 of your schools, the substantial gifts of education are 
 diffused among you as they are nowhere else." 
 
 " If this is a mutual admiration society," put in Eu- 
 gene, " I should like to know it. The way you two 
 bandy compliments is a caution to bystanders, as we 
 say in the favored land you speak of. Let your magna- 
 nimity rest now for a little while, I beg you, and tell me 
 what is our chance for some dinner by and by. That 
 early drive has made me as hungry as a wolf." 
 
 " Let us see," said the baron, " where are we ? This 
 river is the Rille, I think ; and it is twelve o'clock. We 
 shall be at Evreux in half an hour, and there is a buffet
 
 340 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 there, Monsieur Eugene. He is your youngest, I be- 
 lieve, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 "Yes, our youngest, r enfant terrible, and horribly 
 vexatious sometimes. It is not well for him to be hun- 
 gry. When we get to Evreux we will place him in a 
 high chair, move him up to table, put a bib on him, and 
 observe." 
 
 " You will observe, then, that he is equal to the occa- 
 sion," said the young man. 
 
 "When shall we get to Paris, Baron ? " said Julia. 
 
 " About six in the evening," was the answer. 
 
 "Well," said she, "this is Tuesday, and my father 
 cannot arrive before Friday or Saturday. We will wait 
 for him, I think ; but we ought not and will not detain 
 you for so long. Eugene and I can amuse ourselves 
 very well." 
 
 " Mademoiselle has perhaps friends in Paris, who will 
 occupy her time ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," said Julia ; " but time is not apt to pass 
 slowly, I believe, when one is seeing Paris for the first 
 time." 
 
 "Then, if there are no older friends, I shall ask the 
 pleasure of being your guide. What would be your 
 idea ? What do you most wish to see ? " 
 
 " I think my idea would be to get a general idea of 
 the city and its localities, and leave special things, such 
 as museums, collections, and shops, for some more lei- 
 surely visit. But are you sure, Baron, that you do not 
 want your time for other places and engagements ? " 
 
 " Quite sure, mademoiselle. I must remain in Paris
 
 ENTER JULIA. 341 
 
 for two or three days, at all events, and shall have very 
 little to do, merely to receive instructions for a period 
 of residence in America." 
 
 " Are you really going to America, then, Baron ? 
 Where shall you be, and how long shall you stay ? " 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle, I have told the President that 
 I would go. I shall be mostly in Washington and New 
 York, and wherever else are arsenals and forts. My 
 errand concerns both military and telegraphic busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " And when do you go ? " 
 
 " That is left to my convenience, but a month or two 
 from now, probably." 
 
 " And your sister, the baroness ? " 
 
 " She will probably accompany me. Life at Hohen- 
 tauben would be very sad for her alone ; and for my 
 own sake too I should wish it. You will understand 
 that when you come to know her." 
 
 " She seems, indeed, to have a very strong hold upon 
 all who know her. I almost fear to place myself within 
 the influence of one who has so captivated all the mem- 
 bers of my own family. It would be impossible not to 
 recognize her great kindness to my mother; and yet 
 you will perhaps understand and excuse me if I say that 
 I have not desired to see Helen identified with her." 
 
 " Certainly, I can understand it perfectly ; and there- 
 fore there is nothing to excuse. I can only hope that 
 you may sometime feel otherwise." 
 
 There were still some hours of daylight left when 
 they reached Paris. On their way to the hotel the baron
 
 342 MANUEL A PAREDES. 
 
 made a detour to the Arc d' Etoile, that Julia might see 
 the throng of carriages rolling through the Champs 
 Elysees toward the Bois de Boulogne. Every moment 
 scenes, familiar enough to fancy, appeared to her in 
 reality, and her rapid and piquant comments and the 
 glow of her beautiful face charmed the baron. 
 
 This charm was renewed and increased as day by 
 day they went forth, for their mutual sight-seeing, to the 
 Tower of St. Jacques, the heights of Montmartre, the 
 ruined terraces of St. Cloud, or the bastions of Mont- 
 Valrian. The baron showed her not only the physical 
 features of the scene, but the points memorable in the 
 history of the monarchy, the republic, the empire, and 
 the commune.
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 
 
 the second morning after her arrival in Paris 
 Julia received this telegram : 
 
 QUEENSTOWN, August 27. 
 
 Just in. Yours received. Hope to join you at the 
 
 Splendide on the evening of the 2Qth. 
 
 A. D. 
 
 The baron, preferring not to intrude^ on the family re- 
 union, excused himself for the evening, and Mr. Dysart 
 arrived in time to dine alone with his children. The 
 father saw again the daughter who had always been his 
 peculiar pride, and the son who, during the separation of 
 more than a year, had grown into manhood. They had 
 much to tell, Eugene, of the experience of the sum- 
 mer, and of the state of matters at Hohentauben ; Julia, 
 of her voyage, and of her stay in Paris ; and Mr. Dysart, 
 of his visit to Colorado, with its dramatic events. 
 
 The story did not suffer by his telling. He spoke in 
 the warmest terms of Robert, whom he represented not 
 only as the preserver of his life, but as a most able man 
 and valuable friend. Of his future he had no doubt. An 
 election for Congress was, he told them, to be held a few
 
 344 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 days after he left ; and Robert would without doubt be 
 chosen. No better choice could be made : he was not 
 only a scholar and a gentleman, but a thorough business 
 man, with broad views and large experience in all lines 
 of thought and action. 
 
 His own visit to Colorado had been a great success. 
 The villany of those miners had recoiled upon their 
 own heads; and, as a result, he and "Mr. Audran had 
 become the joint owners of a mine of great promise. 
 He had been systematically deceived with regard to it ; 
 and, had he parted with it when urged to do so, would 
 have thrown away a splendid opportunity of fortune. 
 When he received the telegram calling him to Hohen- 
 tauben, he was expecting a visit from California capital- 
 ists of great mining experience, who, if satisfied, would 
 probably offer a good price for the property. He had 
 hoped to receive a telegram at Liverpool. Mr. Audran 
 had power to close the bargain, if he thought best. 
 
 And then his mind reverted to the baroness, and he 
 questioned Eugene closely about her. 
 
 " It seems to me," said Julia, " that this meeting will 
 be very awkward. For the life of me, I cannot tell how 
 you can meet her, or how she can receive you. She is a 
 great talker, by all accounts ; and if she insists on dis- 
 cussing everything, and raking up old grievances, it will 
 be horrid for us all." 
 
 " I don't know that." said Eugene. " If there is one 
 thing more to be observed than another in Madame 
 Waldeyer, it is her tact. She has a genius for doing the 
 right thing at the right time ; and I don't think it is tact
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 345 
 
 alone either, but the quickness of her sympathy and the 
 fineness of her sense." 
 
 " I have no fears," said Mr. Dysart. " Manuela never 
 made one uncomfortable. With all her impulsiveness, 
 and her resolute determination to have her own way, she 
 was never regardless of the feelings of others. She 
 suffered a great deal, but she never complained. Had 
 she done so, it might have been better for us both. It 
 was her way to act rather than to speak ; I dare say it is 
 so still." 
 
 " And so I am the only rebel in the family," said Ju- 
 lia. " What can be the reason that mother and father 
 and Helen and Eugene and Alice and Mr. Audran, all 
 forsake the principles by which we have lived, swallow 
 this scapegrace of a woman without the least diffi- 
 culty, take her right into their hearts and lives, and 
 never seem to think themselves contaminated or com- 
 promised in the least by doing so ? Charity covers a 
 multitude of sins ; but, in this case, it would seem either 
 that it is extraordinary charity or that the sins in ques- 
 tion are nothing more than harmless vagaries, not worth 
 either rebuking or denouncing. Now, if she were a 
 penitent and a suppliant, timid and despairing, there 
 would be some grace and some sense in all this forgiv- 
 ing; but we are not asked to forgive nor to forget. 
 Rather we are expected and privileged to ignore our 
 injuries, and turn another cheek to the smiter. It is too 
 much, too bitter, too degrading ! " 
 
 " Well, Julia," said Eugene, " I must say that I am 
 astonished. You beat and heat and aggravate your feel-
 
 346 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 ings, and work yourself up into a state of mind, as if 
 you were afraid your own propriety would evaporate, 
 unless you concentrated it in some malignant visitation 
 upon this poor, loving woman ; or as if you supposed 
 the baroness were planning to subjugate us all, and tri- 
 umph over us after having humbled us." 
 
 " Yes, Eugene, that is just what I do suppose. She 
 may, and she probably will, have the sense and forbear- 
 ance not to parade this ; but, in her heart, she must feel 
 that she has vanquished us and the Right together ; 
 and we must feel that, when our sensibilities and our 
 consciences and society and religion all proclaimed 
 just cause for offence, not to be overlooked or par- 
 doned, we have shuffled, like poor Toots, and said, ' Jt 's 
 of no consequence, none whatever ! ' What does it 
 mean ? Why is it that we are all here, hurrying on 
 together to help in our own destruction, to betray our 
 own cause ? " 
 
 " What did you come for, Julia ? " said Mr. Dysart. 
 
 " To get my mother, to get her away from that 
 place and out of the protection of this soft and treach- 
 erous, this fast and loose woman ! " cried Julia, greatly 
 excited ; " to nurse and tend her, if God spares her 
 life ; and, if she must die, to help her die, as she has 
 lived, shunning evil, cleaving to good, her own pure 
 life unstained by any complicity with fraud or shame. 
 
 " I do not want to persecute anybody. Leave 
 Madame Waldeyer alone, with the wages of her sin 
 and the mercy of God. When Christ said to the 
 woman, ' Neither do I accuse thee,' he said also, ' Go in
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 347 
 
 peace,' if you can. He did not wish to be pestered 
 with her company ! " 
 
 <ii My dear, vivid, fervid girl," said her father, "only 
 wait and see ; and don't imagine that I do not and can- 
 not sympathize with your startled and stern sense of 
 justice and propriety. But you have not told me any- 
 thing about the baron. What of him ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Julia, " the baron is quite another person. 
 He is a nice rrtan, very nice indeed, a truly cour- 
 teous, sad, polite, earnest person. The iron entered 
 into his soul when France was bejuggled by Napoleon 
 and crushed by Bismarck, and he lives only to see it 
 disenchanted of its errors, redeemed by its labors, and 
 made glorious by its patriotism. He may not be strong 
 or great, but he is thoughtful and diligent and good. 
 I should say that he had been almost overpowering in 
 his politeness, if he had not been so full of his duty as 
 a soldier and a republican. There is something heroic 
 about the baron. You will see him in the morning, and 
 you must be sure to thank him for his great attention 
 and care to make my stay in Paris entertaining and in- 
 structive. But he will not go with us to Hohentauben : 
 he is to remain here a day or two longer." 
 
 " Then you do not think that he and his sister are 
 combined in a scheme to work their wicked will with 
 us ? " said Mr. Dysart. 
 
 "Oh, no!" was the answer. "The baron is too 
 simple, too sincere, for that." 
 
 "And yet," said Eugene, "you have known him only 
 three days. You have dealt with him as a photographer
 
 348 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 does with a little picture : you have thrown him up into 
 a scale of ideal excellence and grandeur ; and you have 
 poked the baroness, whom you have never seen, down 
 into the shadows of the pit. I don't like to call you 
 unjust, Juley ; still I will just remark that this is at least 
 rather a rapid exercise of judgment." 
 
 " Rapid or not," said she, " it is not so much so as 
 yours when you said that she had aspired after holiness 
 and heaven as not one woman in a thousand ever does, 
 though, indeed, there is little doubt that she has need 
 to do so ! " 
 
 "Well, my young friends," said Mr. Dysart, "you 
 have covered the whole ground by your discussion, and 
 I am glad to have you do so ; and now let me say that 
 you would better let this problem rest for a while. We 
 don't know exactly in what shape it will next present 
 itself to us. Uncle Abe, you know, used to say that it 
 was time enough to cross rivers when you came to them. 
 There is apt to be a considerable difference between the 
 judicial and the prejudicial view of things." 
 
 A knock at the door of the room suspended the con- 
 versation. It was opened for the delivery of a telegram 
 addressed to Mr. Dysart, which ran as follows : 
 
 FOUNTAIN, COLORADO, August 26. 
 
 Sold to S. & F., at three hundred. Fifty per cent in 
 cash, and balance fully assured by certificates of deposit 
 on First National Bank of Denver, and Riggs & Co., 
 Washington. Election of 23d a sweepstakes. Am com- 
 ing out, Str. Mosel, from New York, September 4. 
 
 ROBERT AUDRAN.
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 349 
 
 Mr. Dysart read with evident complacency. 
 
 " May I see it ? " said Julia ; and her father handed 
 it to her. 
 
 " S. & F. ? " said she. " Who are they ? " 
 
 " S. & F. are Shood & Flaron. If you knew any- 
 thing about bonanzas, you would know who they are." 
 
 " Three hundred. That is n't much," said Julia. 
 
 " Thousand is understood, you chick." 
 
 " Three hundred thousand ! " said Eugene. " Whew ! 
 That 's something like a plum, governor ! " 
 
 " It 's not a plum for your tasting, young man. Now, 
 God be thanked ! I can make everything right with 
 Manuela. It is the old saw over again, that it takes 
 a mine to pay for a mine. O children, the shadows of 
 my life are lifting ! I have not ruined the soul that 
 was given me to keep, and I can make good again the 
 fortune of that proud and patient old man, her father." 
 
 " And what about my mother, sir ? " said Julia, almost 
 fiercely. 
 
 " Your mother, child, your mother ? She is Heaven's 
 best and least-deserved gift to me. She took my scarred 
 and sordid spirit home, and wrapped it in the grace and 
 sweetness of her own. Whatever life I have or may 
 have above and beyond the schemes of commerce, I 
 owe to her and you. Thank God again for her spared 
 life ! We may yet grow old together, and trim our 
 lamps anew for the coming of the Bridegroom. 
 
 " At what hour can we start to-morrow, and when 
 shall we get there ? " 
 
 " You can't get through in a day, father," said Eu-
 
 350 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 gene. " It is ten hours to Strasburg, two from there 
 to Colmar, and then a carriage ride of an hour." 
 
 "And so Mr. Audran is coming for Helen," said 
 Julia, recurring to the telegram. " I am sure, if he is 
 all you say he is, father, it is the best thing which could 
 possibly happen. It will deliver her from the baroness, 
 at all events. This election news means that he is 
 going to Congress from Colorado, I suppose ; so he 
 will live at Washington, at least during the session. 
 Dear me ! The baron is going there too. Did you 
 know that, papa ? " 
 
 " What ! Baron Waldeyer ? You did not tell me 
 that. In what capacity, pray ? " 
 
 "He is to be attached to the French Legation, he 
 says, nominally, that is ; but really he is sent to study 
 our system of manufacturing arms and telegraph equip- 
 ments. He starts in a few weeks. You must see him 
 before you leave the city, father." 
 
 " He might breakfast with us," said Mr. Dysart. 
 " Eugene, ask him to do so, with my compliments ; and 
 tell me, if we get to Strasburg to-morrow night, when 
 do we reach Colmar, or wherever it is that the baroness 
 lives ? " 
 
 " We shall get to Colmar by ten next morning, and to 
 Hohentauben by eleven," answered Eugene. 
 
 Mr. Dysart immediately telegraphed his intentions to 
 his wife. 
 
 The father's first impressions of the baron were like 
 those of his daughter Julia, that he was a man who 
 cultivated a formal manner as a protection to himself;
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 351 
 
 and Mr. Dysart set himself at once to throw this fence 
 down. 
 
 " We are under very great obligations to you, 
 Baron," said he, " not only for your kindness in com- 
 ing so far to meet and welcome my daughter, but 
 for the unusual opportunities which you have given 
 her to understand and enjoy all the new things which 
 she has seen. She has told me of your little excur- 
 sions at Cherbourg and around Paris, in terms which 
 make me regret that I could not have been here to 
 profit by such company." 
 
 " It has been a great pleasure to attend Miss Dysart ; 
 and perhaps my experience this summer with her sister 
 has taught me how best to interest her. It is easy to 
 talk with your daughters, Mr. Dysart : they have the art 
 of drawing out what they wish to know ; and the themes 
 which interest them are those upon which a man likes to 
 talk." 
 
 " We go to Hohentauben or at least we start 
 to-day," said Mr. Dysart. " You are soon to be there, 
 I hope?" 
 
 " In two days," answered the baron. 
 
 " Do you think Mrs. Dysart will soon be able to 
 leave ? " 
 
 " Manuela would never forgive me if I said that," 
 answered the baron. " If you go this morning, it is 
 already time you were on your way. You will allow me 
 to attend you to the station." 
 
 It was a silent party which occupied the car from 
 Strasburg to Colmar next day. Mr. Dysart was too
 
 352 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 much absorbed in thought for conversation, Julia too 
 nervous ; only Eugene seemed at ease. 
 
 They were nearing the station when Julia asked 
 Eugene, " Who will be there to meet us ? Will it be 
 the baroness ? I hope not ; though, after all, the sooner 
 the meeting is over, the better." 
 
 "Wait and see," answered Eugene. "I know no 
 more than you. Helen will be there, at any rate." 
 
 At Hohentauben was also a council on the same sub- 
 ject. It was called by the baroness, who also dictated its 
 conclusions, most acceptable to Mrs. Dysart and Helen. 
 The programme of the baroness was this : that Helen 
 should meet her father and sister at Colmar, and ac- 
 company them to the castle ; that Mrs. Dysart should re- 
 ceive them at the porte cochere ; that three hours should 
 be given them for rest and conference, if such they de- 
 sired ; and that she herself should be in the parlor to 
 receive them at two o'clock, half an hour before 
 dinner. 
 
 The baroness followed Helen to the carriage, and, as 
 she was about to take her place in it, drew from her 
 bosom a thin package, and handed it to her. " Dar- 
 ling," said she, "that is for your father. It is very 
 precious, very valuable, very costly ; and I want you to 
 give it to him with your own hands. Will you take the 
 time to do so when your greetings are over, and when, as 
 is natural, you begin to speak of me, and the circum- 
 stances under which we meet ? I wish especially that your 
 father and mother should have time to consider what it 
 contains before I see them."
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 353 
 
 She trembled with emotion as she drew Helen into 
 her arms, and hid her tearful face upon her daughter's 
 shoulder. " Remember, dear," said she, " you are all I 
 have in life. You are my only one. Without you, I am 
 a lost soul ! " 
 
 Helen was almost as much moved as her mother, as 
 she answered, " Dearest mother, there must be and there 
 is some way to make this right ; and surely, as I am your 
 child, it will be found. Nothing shall ever estrange me 
 from you, never ! Good-by, dear, good mother ! " 
 She hastened to the carriage, and, as it rolled down the 
 lawn, looked back to see the baroness, erect and smil- 
 ing now, and throwing kisses to her daughter. 
 
 " We shall soon be there," said Eugene, as the train 
 entered the scattering suburbs of Colmar. 
 
 " Yes," said Julia, " and then there will be a scene. 
 Father has not spoken a word all the morning. He is 
 dreading the meeting, I know. You won't be any more 
 magnanimous than she is, will you, papa ? Promise me 
 that you won't ! " 
 
 "I hope I may behave as well, "said Mr. Dysart sadly. 
 
 " Here we are ! " cried Eugene ; " and there is Helen, 
 alone on the platform." 
 
 One moment more, and Helen was in her father's 
 arms. He kissed her fondly ; then held her off at arm's 
 length, and looked at her. " The same old girl," said 
 he. " Just as sweet as ever, Nell." 
 
 " The same old father," said she, " and handsomer, I 
 declare ! And Jule, Queen Jule, how splendid you 
 are ! And what have you done with your baron ? " 
 
 23
 
 354 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " Is she here, Nell, the Waldeyer woman ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't, Julia ! Don't speak of her so ! She is 
 the sweetest, dearest creature ! And she is my mother, 
 remember that, Julia." 
 
 " Don't talk to me, then, about her," cried Julia vi- 
 ciously. " If I am to take to her at all, it must be in 
 my own fashion, and for my own reasons. If you will 
 all persist in bowing down to her " 
 
 " Remember all she has done for mother," said Eu- 
 gene, "and don't be rude at first. If you don't go 
 . wrong at the outset, you will soon learn the proprieties 
 of the place." 
 
 They were soon seated, and driving across the mead- 
 ows of the 111. The noble Norman horses, the hand- 
 some carriage with the Waldeyer crest, the complete 
 appointments of the coachman and the footman at- 
 tracted Julia's notice. " She does things in style, don't 
 she ? " was her remark. 
 
 " Where shall we see your mother ? " said Mr. Dysart. 
 
 " She will be waiting in the porch to receive you," an- 
 swered Helen. 
 
 " How does she look, Nell ? I could not bear to see 
 her ill and broken." 
 
 " You will not think so at all, except when she moves," 
 said Helen. " She walks feebly still, otherwise she is 
 very well, and for the last few days has been so happy and 
 eager over your coming. You will not see the baroness 
 for two hours or more, not until just before dinner." 
 
 " So," said Mr. Dysart, " she makes you do the hon- 
 ors, then ? That is right, you are the daughter of the 
 house."
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 355 
 
 " Oh, dear papa, I thank you for the word ! Indeed, 
 it must be so ! It would break her heart and almost 
 mine if it were not so." 
 
 " She may not have you very long, Helen. There is 
 somebody else between here and Colorado who is specu- 
 lating as to where you belong." 
 
 " Robert ! " said Helen, with a brilliant smile. " Yes, 
 you know him now, as well as I do, papa ; and I only 
 hope you like him as well, that 's all." 
 
 " He 's splendid, my dear. He is just the man for 
 you, and you are good enough for any man. And I am 
 well aware that he has told you so*." 
 
 " Yes, he has," said Helen, " and he keeps telling me 
 so, which is the best of all." 
 
 " Well, I have great news for you, Helen, great and 
 good news of Mr. Audran. I expected it, but it only 
 came last night by telegram." 
 
 "What is it, papa? Oh, what?" cried Helen, with 
 dilated eyes. 
 
 " Only that he has made his fortune, my love. Wealth 
 and honor have come to him, as he deserves ; merit he 
 had before. He saved and recovered for me a property 
 which he has now sold for a great price, and he has 
 been chosen by an overwhelming vote to represent his 
 district in Congress ; and there will be few better men 
 than he to meet him there. And, Nell, no sooner does 
 this come about than he starts right off to bring it all to 
 you. He will be here in a fortnight, and I think you 
 ought to be two happy people." 
 
 " You are the best man in this world, father, and he
 
 356 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 is the next. You admit that one half that is true, Julia, 
 and I shall never rest till you think the other half true 
 also." 
 
 " It appears to me," said Julia, " that there 's no par- 
 ticular use in my having any mind of my own. My 
 world seems to be filling up rapidly with ready-made 
 relations whom I never heard of before. Have n't you 
 got a paragon or two somewhere, Eugene, for my ac- 
 ceptance ? " 
 
 " I don't know how it will be when the baron gets 
 back, Jule. You said some very fine things about him 
 when we were in Paris. You called him ' nice.' " 
 
 Julia looked at him an instant, as though she would 
 look him into the ground. " You unmannerly boy ! " 
 said she. " What a shame to speak of him so ! " 
 
 Helen's face brightened. "O Julia, I am so glad 
 he went to meet you ! Is n't he as charming as can be ? 
 And he is just as good as he seems." 
 
 " I don't feel called upon to make any comments 
 about the baron," said Julia, " and I beg you won't 
 commend me to him, if you do him to me. Oh, but this 
 is beautiful ! " 
 
 They had reached the top of the ravine over a road- 
 way carpeted with fallen leaves. Before them was the 
 lakelike expanse of the Fecht, and on the right, above, 
 the green lawn stretching up to the gray old castle. 
 
 At the porch on the southern front stood Mrs. Dysart. 
 The illness which had opened with such sudden and 
 alarming symptoms had left no trace upon her sweet 
 face, or rather, by the rest and regimen which it had
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 357 
 
 imposed, had renewed its softness and bloom. Happy 
 wife and proud mother ! She received her husband and 
 children with an air so charmed and so charming that 
 Mr. Dysart, as he kissed her for the third time, said, 
 " Eugenia, it 's worth coming five thousand miles to see 
 you looking so well ! " 
 
 " And you can't be very helpless, mother," said Julia, 
 " if you managed to get into that dress. And who in 
 the world did your hair in such a pretty way ? " 
 
 Helen answered, "The baroness's maid, Marie, is 
 very clever, Julia." 
 
 " It was not Marie, to-day," said Mrs. Dysart. " The 
 baroness herself insisted upon superintending my toilet, 
 and she was as pleased as a child with the result. Now, 
 Adrian, give me your left arm, you see what a burden 
 I am, and you shall all come up to my room and sit 
 among my honeysuckles." 
 
 " You all seem to be immensely at home here," re- 
 marked Julia. 
 
 " And so will you be before you know it, my dear," 
 retorted Mrs. Dysart. 
 
 The young people carried Julia off first to their own 
 chambers, and then to hers, and they ranged through 
 hall and gallery, bringing up by and by on the balcony 
 over the western front. 
 
 " This is very nice, I must say," owned Julia. " And 
 so you have been here a month, Alice. What on earth 
 have you found to do ? " 
 
 "Everything was delightful until your mother was 
 taken sick. Since then, Helen has been with her most
 
 358 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 of the time. She and the baroness would hardly ever 
 let me take my turn in sitting with her." 
 
 " Alice has had three gentlemen to look after," said 
 Helen. " I don't know what she would have done 
 without them or what they would have done without 
 her. She distributed her attentions very fairly for a 
 while, but lately I noticed that the baron and Eugene 
 were apt to go off shooting by themselves. This is a 
 great place for pigeons, you know, Hohentauben." 
 
 "Walter does n't care for shooting doves," said Alice. 
 
 " No," said Eugene, " he preferred to study their lan- 
 guage. And he cooed coo, cooed n't he, Alice ? " 
 
 " I dare say he might if he tried. He is a capable 
 young person, that Walter," said Alice. " I am so sorry 
 he has gone, Julia." 
 
 " I believe you," said Julia. 
 
 " But he '11 come back to see his brother, that is, if 
 Robert is really coming," said Alice ; " and then you 
 will have a chance to see what he is made of." 
 
 " And she is maid and mistress of his affections," 
 pursued Eugene. 
 
 " And if she is, she is n't ashamed of it," said Alice. 
 
 " That 's the place where they do it, Jule," said Eu- 
 gene, " out in that summer-house which you see there. 
 There is something very peculiar in the air of that sum- 
 mer-house. It takes the selfishness out of you, makes 
 you so kind and considerate of others, you know. I 
 would not give two cents for any woman's independence 
 of character, out there, or any man's, either." 
 
 " Now," said Helen, " we must go to mamma's room.
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 359 
 
 I have a .very mysterious package for father, and we are 
 all to see it delivered." 
 
 "Now, papa," she said, when they were all seated, 
 " I don't know what this is, but it is something impor- 
 tant. When I was leaving the house this morning, the 
 baroness, all in tears, gave me this package, and told 
 me to give it to you from her, when our greetings were 
 over and we were ready to consider the circumstances 
 of our relations to her ; and that is now, I suppose. So 
 take it." And she handed him the long, thin packet, in 
 its fold of soft white paper. 
 
 There was a hush of earnest expectation as Mr. Dy- 
 sart, with a set, pale face, took the packet and unfolded 
 its envelope. It enclosed another wrapper of purple 
 silk, and from the end of that hung a narrow ribbon of 
 the same hue, to which was attached the leaden seal of 
 St. Peter the Fisherman. Within was a scroll of parch- 
 ment, written in Latin. Mr. Dysart hesitated as he 
 deciphered it. " ' Quibus hae literag pervenerint : Pius 
 Nonus, Pontifex Supremus, salutem in Domino. Filia 
 ecclesiae delecta, Manuela Paredes, quae diu apud Col- 
 mar Alsatiae superioris vixerat.' No, I cannot make 
 out this Latin. Ah ! here seems to be a paper from 
 Manuela. Yes." And he read : 
 
 ADRIAN, When, thirty years since, our ill-considered 
 and unhappy union occurred, civil marriage was not 
 known to Mexican law. The ceremony which joined 
 "us was of a purely ecclesiastical nature, and, as such, 
 subject to the review of the Head of the Church. This
 
 360 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 review, Pio Nono, the Holy Father, has at my request 
 instituted ; and, for reasons briefly set forth in the ac- 
 companying decree, he has annulled the marriage, and 
 has declared that, from the day on which I left your 
 house, you were no longer bound to me. Your subse- 
 quent marriage is, by this decree, cleared of any ques- 
 tion which might otherwise have attached to it. 
 
 To yourself, to your honored wife and her children, I 
 offer my sincere congratulations on this result. Shadow 
 on their lives shall never come from me. Whatever of 
 privilege or of love you and they may accord to me, 
 whatever charity you may entertain for my conduct 
 towa'rd you, shall be freely given, and will be gratefully 
 welcomed by 
 
 MANUELA. PAREDES DE WALDEYER. 
 
 HOHENTAUBEN, August 30, 187 1. 
 
 Mr. Dysart closed his reading with faltering voice, 
 and silence reigned in the room. Every eye, even 
 Julia's, was swimming in tears. 
 
 Mrs. Dysart was the first to speak. " Dear creature ! 
 No one ever had it in her power so to injure me, and no 
 one ever has been so generously kind. What return 
 shall we make, Helen ? " 
 
 "There is only one that can be made, mother, only 
 one which she would consider a return. Again and 
 again she has told me that all she desires is that, without 
 being divided from you, I shall be to her as a daughter, 
 the daughter that I am ; that I may go and come 
 from you to her, from her to you, and you shall think
 
 AND MR. DYSART. 361 
 
 no ill of it ; that I shall love her somewhat as she 
 loves and longs for me. And it does seem to me 
 that if that marriage with father, which was a wrong and 
 a fraud on both, had not been, and if she had been 
 married to Baron Waldeyer who is dead, as she could 
 not be, for no tribunal on earth would have given her 
 the divorce which she has procured for father, her 
 life would have been as fair, as pure, as lovely, as that 
 of the best of women. Now I say that these hard and 
 ugly facts were not of her will, not altogether of her- 
 self ; and that her devotion to love, to truth, to light, 
 her triumph over wayward impulses, and the wonderful 
 growth of her nature in knowledge and power and 
 heavenly tenderness, are to be taken as the measure of 
 her character, and I should be both ashamed and afraid 
 to turn from her." 
 
 Overpowered with her own earnestness, she threw 
 herself on her face on the sofa, sobbing like a little 
 child. 
 
 " Who among us can deny her what she asks ? " said 
 Mr. Dysart. " But there is another return, due to our- 
 selves, which must be made. Her fortune, while she 
 was as dead to us, remained in my hands, and has been 
 for thirty years the basis of our social position, the 
 foundation and the largest part of what I called my 
 own. It must go back to her. She has not demanded 
 it, she never would do so ; but none the less must it go 
 back to her. No mercenary thought ever stained her 
 soul ; we must be not less careful of ours." 
 
 " But," said Mrs. Dysart, " in our first interviews,
 
 362 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 if she did not exactly say so, she certainly intimated 
 that she had the power to injure us all by her unsolved 
 relations to you." 
 
 Helen raised her head and said, " Yes, mother, she 
 did ; but she did not know then with whom she had to 
 deal. She did take account of all her resources, she 
 weighed every point which could give influence to her 
 claim ; and she stated them as a matter which it would 
 be proper for us to consider, not as a weapon which she 
 intended to use. Again and again she has since said 
 that what she desired to win from us, we being what we 
 are, must come from love and respect alone." 
 
 " Who could blame her," said Mr. Dysart, " for deal- 
 ing with us as she found us? The Bible says of the 
 Lord, 'With the pure he will show himself pure, and 
 with the fro ward he will show himself fro ward.' Manu- 
 ela is as strong as she is magnanimous. I must go and 
 see her. Why need I wait two hours ? " 
 
 "Let me go first," said Helen, "and ask her. I 
 would rather, indeed I would." 
 
 "Go, then, dear," said her father ; and she went, and 
 presently returned. 
 
 " The baroness says she will be glad to see you, papa. 
 She will be in the parlor whenever you are ready. Let 
 me brush your hair and re-tie your cravat. There ! "
 
 AND THE 'CHORUS. 363 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 
 
 TTJX)LLOWING Helen's direction, Mr. Dysart reached 
 * the parlor. The door stood open, and through it 
 was blown the fragrance of rose and jasmine ; the cur- 
 tains were drawn to exclude the afternoon sun ; and the 
 beautiful room, with all its rich and quaint adornment, 
 lay hushed and dim before him. He paused an instant 
 on the threshold, before, in the far corner, he detected 
 the figure of a woman, sitting, with averted face, near a 
 little table. She was aware of his approach, and yet she 
 did not move. Slowly he moved toward her, waiting for 
 a recognition, which she did not give. " Madame Wai- 
 deyer," said he. She rose, with down-dropped eyes, and 
 a deep, graceful salutation, and sank again into her 
 chair. 
 
 Mr. Dysart advanced, with open hand outstretched.. 
 " Here is my hand, Manuela. Will you not give me 
 yours ? " 
 
 She rose again, and, placing her hand in his, slowly 
 and timidly lifted her eyes to his face ; and then each, 
 with a settled gaze upon the countenance once so familiar, 
 read the records of half a lifetime. 
 
 To both it was a revelation, mournful and eloquent.
 
 364 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 Each saw that the other had grown out of that life, once 
 so marked by alienation, into the ideal which would have 
 made their natures kin and sympathetic. The exact and 
 cold logic of the man was all overgrown with the flower 
 and fruit of domestic life ; and the intense and passion- 
 ate egotism of the woman had faded in the light of 
 mature reason and trained affections. Each had in 
 some measure accepted the other's creed of life, and 
 each had become distrustful of the impulse once all-im- 
 portant. In that moment each knew, with the knowl- 
 edge which depends neither on argument nor record, 
 that the course of the other had been steady and true to 
 the guiding star of their youthful heaven. His dreams 
 had been wrought by Ambition's fingers, her pictures all 
 shaded by Love's pencil. 
 
 Mr. Dysart was the first to speak : " Manuela, I can't 
 tell you how beautiful it is to me to find you here, full 
 of love yourself, and shedding the comfort of love on 
 all about you, you whom, for so many years, I have 
 thought of as a bewildered and misguided soul, quenched 
 in a wild and wandering grave." 
 
 " Heaven was good to me," she replied. " God 
 watched over those confused and wretched days when I 
 left you and your child. He is good to me now, in 
 bringing you both here to-day. And Heaven has been 
 very kind, too, in rebuilding for you a home and a domes- 
 tic circle richer and fairer far than that which once I 
 ruined. For the sake of your sweet wife and children, 
 and the life and love you have had with them, you will 
 forgive me, Adrian ? How much I owe to them all ! "
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 365 
 
 " And how much my wife and all of us owe to you, 
 Manuela, who have nursed her back to life with such 
 love and care ! " 
 
 " Is it not beautiful, Adrian, that I, who stole your 
 false wife away from you, have been able to do some- 
 thing to preserve your true wife, and restore her to you ? 
 It is little, perhaps ; but in it I have found ease of mind 
 and peace of conscience. In the memory of all your 
 happy days with her, and in the light of this moment of 
 forgiveness, will you not forget the wrong and the un- 
 happiness of our brief life together ? " 
 
 " If you will, Manuela, wrongs which, however the 
 world may regard them, I well know began with me ; 
 not in" my will perhaps, but in my absorption and blind 
 pursuit of other objects. You, too, have much to for- 
 give." 
 
 " I have not felt so, Adrian. Next to my desire for 
 my daughter has always been the hope and the purpose 
 to make whatever amends I might to you. I have 
 watched in silence, but with great pleasure, all the 
 events of your fortunate life. They have been known 
 to me during all these years ; and now, in the package 
 which Helen has given you, I have, as I hope, removed 
 the last trace of anything which could trouble or com- 
 promise you or your family. In those dark days, when 
 we were almost forbidden to hope for Mrs. Dysart's life 
 from hour to hour, I prayed with my whole heart that, 
 before she died, she might know that I never would and 
 never could injure you or her, and that her own record 
 was from the first beyond a question."
 
 366 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " It would not be possible, Manuela, to be more 
 thoughtful and more magnanimous than you have been. 
 Mrs. Dysart feels it as I do, as Helen does. And Helen 
 is so fond and proud of her mother ! " 
 
 Mr. Dysart had been standing before her, leaning 
 upon a pedestal which supported a bust of Dante. The 
 baroness, with a quick impulse, rose and went to him, 
 took both his hands in hers, and, with dewy, appealing 
 eyes, she said, " Then it will be so, you are willing that 
 it shall be so. Helen may love me as her mother, and I 
 may cherish her as my daughter ! It has been this hope 
 which has guided every step of mine since first I went 
 forth to seek her. Every dream, every image, seen 
 in absence, wrought in hope, is more than filled and 
 satisfied in her. She is beautiful to me, so clear, so 
 strong, so sure, so sweet. But no thought of mine, no 
 love of mine, no care of hers for me, shall ever limit or 
 abridge her life. There must be some way in which I 
 may be always a help to her, and never a burden. I did 
 not watch or soothe her infancy, and I must not 
 compromise her womanhood ; but I know I shall have 
 strength to stand with her and by her when I am help- 
 ful, and to stand away if ever my presence should 
 embarrass. 
 
 " There is no need to publish or declare to the world 
 our relation to each other. I ask nothing of the sort 
 from any of you. Let not one particle of the claim or 
 love of any other being be withdrawn from her because 
 mine is added." 
 
 Mr. Dysart smiled. " Happy Helen ! " said he, " she
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 367 
 
 is rich in love. But neither father nor mother, brother 
 nor sister, can keep the first and nearest place with her. 
 Mr. Audran comes to claim that, with my full sanction 
 and encouragement." 
 
 " Did you say that he is coming, coming now ? " cried 
 the baroness eagerly. " I knew it would be so, and I 
 Jcnew he would not come in vain. If he is nearest to 
 Helen's heart, I am glad for him and her. I might 
 have wished for her a greater place, but I could hardly 
 have found a better man." 
 
 " Yes, it is so," said Mr. Dysart. " But in these few 
 weeks honor and fortune have come to him, and it is 
 because they are come that he hastens to ask Helen 
 to share them." And Mr. Dysart told the outline of the 
 story. 
 
 " Oh, I must see Helen at once ! " cried the baroness ; 
 and she moved toward the bell. 
 
 " One moment ! " said Mr. Dysart, stopping her. 
 " Manuela, you have made haste to return to me my 
 personal liberty : it is even more due to you and my- 
 self that I should restore to you the fortune which has 
 been for so long a time in my keeping. I do not hesi- 
 tate to confess that, believing you dead, and that no 
 legal heirs of your estate existed except our daughter 
 Helen, I have held it hitherto as my own. Helen has 
 always been liberally cared for, and it was my purpose, 
 as shown by every will which I have made, that she 
 should receive a much larger portion of my estate than 
 my other children. But now this matter must either be 
 settled between us or it must be referred to your law- 
 yers, with whom I may adjust it."
 
 368 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " Let us adjust it between ourselves, and now," said 
 the baroness. "There is no need of consulting other 
 people. It may be done easily." 
 
 " But I must tell you, to be fair," said Mr. Dysart, 
 " that if lawyers were employed they would no doubt 
 require of me an account of all the money received 
 from your father's property, and would reckon interest 
 from the time when it was so received. It would amount 
 to a very large sum." 
 
 " There shall be no such reckoning," said the baroness. 
 " You shall tell me, as nearly as your memory may serve, 
 what the original amounts were. You were entitled, as a 
 joint owner, to your proportion ; as the agent, by whose 
 aid alone these results could have been reached, you 
 were entitled to a liberal commission ; as the trustee 
 who has kept them, to another ; and, for the expenses 
 of Helen's care and education, to another." 
 
 " Still," said Mr. Dysart, " with every possible deduc- 
 tion (of course I have reviewed this matter carefully in 
 anticipation), there should come to you not less than 
 one" hundred and fifty thousand dollars, seven hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand francs." 
 
 "It is a large sum, certainly," said the baroness. 
 "And may I, without presumption, ask how far it will 
 be possible for you, without embarrassment, to replace 
 it?" 
 
 " It would have been a very serious matter to me till 
 recently; but it is so no longer. Mr. Audran and I have 
 just sold a mine in Colorado, and my share of the price 
 obtained will reach at least the amount named. The
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 369 
 
 money has never been in my hands, and therefore to 
 part with it will not alter in the least the position of my 
 affairs as they have hitherto stood." 
 
 " And Mr. Audran is the only other party interested 
 in this mine ? " inquired the baroness thoughtfully. 
 
 " He is, or was, the only other owner." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Dysart, if you will here and now (I wish 
 to have it done here and now) prepare a paper, by which 
 you convey to me all your rights and interest in this 
 mine and its sale, I will also prepare, here and now, 
 one which shall release you from all pecuniary obligation 
 to me. These papers may not be very formal or law- 
 proof, but, at any rate, one will be as good as the other. 
 Please go to that writing-table and write yours. I will 
 do mine here." 
 
 A few moments later Helen entered. The dim light 
 and the utter silence startled her, and she was still more 
 surprised to see her father and the baroness seated on 
 opposite sides of the room, with averted faces, busily 
 engaged in writing. "I I hope I do not inter- 
 rupt any business ? " said she slowly. 
 
 " You come in good time, dear," answered the baron- 
 ess. " Wait a minute." She carried her paper and 
 laid it on Mr. Dysart's desk. He handed his to her ; 
 she read it. " That is broad enough and strong enough, 
 I think," said she. Then she sat down again, and 
 wrote upon it an indorsement. " All the within-named 
 rights and interests I hereby entirely and uncondition- 
 ally give and transfer to my daughter, Helen Parades 
 Dysart." 
 
 24
 
 370 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 " Helen," said she, " did you know that your father 
 owned a mine in Colorado ? He has made an exchange 
 with me, and has given me his interest in that to replace 
 mine in Mexico. And now the Clarita Mine belongs 
 entirely to two of my friends, to Miss Helen Dysart 
 and Mr. Robert Audran. This is the deed of it, which 
 I give you. And now, Helen, there is peace and for- 
 giveness between your father and myself, and there is 
 love unforbidden between you and me forevermore. 
 Kiss me, my darling", and I will not be jealous of Robert, 
 and he shall not be jealous of me." 
 
 " But, mother, this mine is worth three hundred 
 thousand dollars. You don't know what you are 
 doing." 
 
 " If it were worth three million, Helen, it means the 
 Parades property ; and is not your name Parades, and 
 are you not the only heir of your grandfather? I know 
 exactly what I am doing. I am keeping for myself the 
 royalty, which is all that my father's mine now produces 
 for its former owners ; and I am giving the rest, which 
 was never worth anything to me, to my own, my only, 
 my darling daughter. And what a pleasure it is to 
 do so!" 
 
 " You are too good," said Helen, " so good that you 
 frighten me. Now, father, am I to take this fortune, 
 thrown into my lap as if it were a toy ? " 
 
 "It is a grand gift, Helen, grandly and beautifully 
 given. I think you must take it, you and Mr. Au- 
 dran. It may brighten your future ; it will clear and 
 sweeten our past."
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 3/1 
 
 " And now," said the baroness, glancing at the Pom- 
 padour clock in the corner, " let us have all the others 
 here. Dinner will be announced presently." 
 
 In due time they appeared. Helen presented Julia. 
 The baroness received her simply and cordially. 
 
 " And this is Miss Julia," said she. " How much I 
 have speculated about her! She has come to answer 
 all my questions. You are very welcome to Hohen- 
 tauben, my dear. I hope my baron has made you 
 understand that in advance." 
 
 " Hohentauben is a lovely place," said Julia amiably. 
 
 "Look at it from this window," said the baroness, 
 drawing her into an embrasure. " It is an ancient 
 barony, given to the Waldeyers by the Emperor Ru- 
 dolph, when he was only Landgrave of Alsace. It has 
 been in the family ever since, six hundred years. 
 The baron is the last of his race." 
 
 " He is not very much in sympathy with feudal an- 
 cestors," said Julia. " He seems to me a very good 
 republican." 
 
 " And not the less good," answered the baroness, " in 
 that he divests himself of the pride and the privilege of 
 his family for the sake of his opinions." 
 
 " Does he spend much time here ? " asked Julia. 
 
 " No," said the baroness. " His whole heart has 
 been in his military life. It is only since the death of 
 his brother that he has come here to protect and cheer 
 my solitude. The estate belongs to him. I am only a 
 tenant-at-will." 
 
 " And is not the care of the estate an immense bur- 
 den ? " asked Julia.
 
 37 2 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 " Not necessarily," said the baroness. " It has been 
 a great study to me, and a great pleasure. The late 
 baron allowed me to manage it. There are forty-two 
 farms, and, with the people about the house, nearly two 
 hundred tenants ; and, though I give much of my time 
 to it when I am here, I have so good a steward that it 
 goes perfectly well in my absence." 
 
 " Madame est servie," announced the butler, with great 
 gravity. 
 
 "Come, my dear," said the baroness, offering her 
 arm to Julia. " Mrs. Dysart, will you conduct your 
 husband ? Keep your own place on my right ; the 
 next is for Mr. Dysart. And you, Miss Julia, are to 
 sit here, next to Helen. I cannot spare her from my 
 left." 
 
 The baroness was at her very best that day. The 
 quickness with which she caught and followed every 
 thought, uttered or unexpressed, the ingenuity with 
 which she charmed away every sense of oppression or 
 restraint, were no novelty to Helen and her mother ; 
 but to Mr. Dysart they were a mystery, and to Julia a 
 perfect fascination. 
 
 Some hours later, coffee was served in the summer- 
 house by the river, and the young people went off by 
 themselves for a stroll up the ravine of the Vogelbach. 
 
 " Well, Julia," said Alice, " what do you think of the 
 baroness now ? " 
 
 " I think she is charming," answered Julia ; " but she 
 puzzles me. She sets all my ideas of life wrong. I do 
 not know whether it is her wonderful tact, or what it is,
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 373 
 
 that gets inside of everybody's defences. I did not 
 mean to like her." 
 
 " I told you in Paris, Julia," said Eugene, " that it was 
 less tact than the quickness of her sympathies and the 
 kindness of her heart. You will believe it more and 
 more every day." 
 
 " I did not mean to like her either," said Alice. " I said 
 some very harsh things about her that morning when 
 we met her on the boat, Eugene ; but I have never said 
 them since, and I do not feel them now. Helen and Mr. 
 Audran believed in her from the first. Is n't it strange 
 that we younger people should have been more incredu- 
 lous and intolerant than our elders and betters ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Eugene thoughtfully. " I sup- 
 pose that older people feel how easy and how human it 
 is to err, and how rare and difficult to redeem a fault, as 
 she has done. But this case, I am sure, is not to be 
 judged by any rule ; it is one by itself, and there will 
 never be another like it." 
 
 The loth of September was fixed for their departure 
 from Hohentauben. Mr. Au'dran might be expected in 
 Paris on the i6th. Mrs. Dysart was now quite well 
 enough to travel, and felt that she had been admonished 
 not to remain longer abroad. 
 
 The baron returned on the second day, and an- 
 nounced that he had orders to report in Washington by 
 the first of November; and the baroness immediately 
 decided to accompany him. In the week that remained, 
 he was anxious to redeem his promise to show Mr. Dysart 
 something of the Vosges and Alsace. The younger
 
 374 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 people were always ready ; the baroness preferred to 
 stay with Mrs. Dysart ; Helen generally remained with 
 them. 
 
 Letters from Mr. Audran came at intervals of a few 
 days. The most important facts had already been an- 
 nounced by telegram ; but, to Helen, the events of his 
 life were less interesting than the portrait of his mind 
 which she read on every page. He was coming, com- 
 ing to claim her. The letters did not yet declare it ; 
 but they reported the progress of negotiations about 
 the mine, and of a political canvass, the result of which 
 had already been learned by cable. Day by day, as this 
 result became more clearly outlined, Robert made it 
 evident that, whenever either event were realized, he 
 should seek her again. The dearest fruit of success 
 would be that he might claim her consent to grace and 
 guide his opening career. 
 
 At length a letter of August 24 told of his election. 
 He would take his seat at the coming session, in Decem- 
 ber. Would she be with him ? That question he should 
 ask her face to face. There was no longer time to wait 
 her permission to come on such an errand : he should 
 come. The sale of the mine would almost certainly be 
 effected within three days. His position then would be 
 assured, one worthy of her, and his love for her. "I 
 shall telegraph the result," he wrote. " You will know 
 how it has gone long before you read this diary of my 
 hopes, and their delay." 
 
 Meantime, the days passed rapidly. Every morning 
 Mr. Dysart, Julia, Alice, and Eugene went forth with the
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 375 
 
 baron on some new quest, leaving Helen with the elder 
 ladies, by whom her new life was proudly and fondly dis- 
 cussed and planned. 
 
 Helen had taken great pains that Julia should remain 
 ignorant how far matters had gone between the baron and 
 herself ; and the baron came to believe that in her conver- 
 sation with him she had almost indicated that he might 
 find in the younger sister that which the elder withheld. 
 The poor baron ! With many a twinge of sharp com- 
 punction at his own infidelity, he perceived that he was 
 daily becoming more sensitive to the charm of Julia's 
 bright and warm enthusiasm and quick perceptions and 
 enjoyments. Enveloped in the fresh life of these young 
 people, it was impossible to be always thinking of a 
 drama closed and a curtain rung down. 
 
 Mr. Audran's relations with the Dysarts were too in- 
 timate and pressing to escape discussion, even in his 
 presence ; and the baron said to himself, " I might bet- 
 ter do my duty, congratulate Miss Dysart on her lover 
 and his fortunes. It will put us at once on more easy 
 and more natural terms ; and the sooner it is done, the 
 better." 
 
 So he made his opportunity by detaining her one 
 evening, after the others had left, a stratagem which 
 she easily detected, but to which she yielded, for she 
 could well divine what was passing in his mind. 
 
 " I have a word for you, Miss Dysart," said he, " if you 
 will give me a few moments. Day by day I have been 
 realizing and appreciating the truth and the kindness 
 with which you spoke when I dared to lay my heart open
 
 376 MANUEL A PARADES. . 
 
 before you. You tried to make me believe that I had 
 mistaken my own mind, because you knew none so well 
 as you how utterly closed for me was the path along 
 which I had permitted it to travel. I should not have 
 suffered such feeling to grow within me, if I had not be- 
 lieved you free. I have heard how fortune has befriended 
 Mr. Audran, how vital and well-assured are his hopes ; 
 and in learning this I have also learned how gently and 
 kindly you dealt with mine. I owe you thanks : why 
 should I not speak them ? I am so sincere in my desire 
 for your honor and happiness that I must congratulate 
 you on their assured establishment. In the same terms 
 I shall congratulate Mr. Audran, when I meet him. He 
 can neither wonder nor blame me that I recognized all 
 that he so highly values." And then he paused. 
 
 Helen answered, " There is nothing too good for you, 
 Baron Waldeyer. You have paid me the highest of 
 compliments in so fully understanding and acknowledg- 
 ing what I wished and tried to do. Your thanks I return 
 to you with interest. I am not yet pledged to Mr. Au- 
 dran : how soon I may be, I do not know ; but then, as 
 now, I shall remember with infinite gratitude your feel- 
 ing for me, and the noble way in which you replace it 
 with one which asks no more than a return of confidence 
 and respect. Now, at any rate, you are to be my friend 
 for life. Let there never be cloud or reserve between 
 us!" 
 
 She bade him good-night, and each felt a sense of re- 
 lief as they parted in the hall. 
 
 The day of departure arrived. Leaving on the loth,
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 377 
 
 they hoped to reach Paris by the i2th; and the bar- 
 oness, who could hardly bear Helen out of her sight, 
 asked permission to join them on the 2oth. 
 
 " It will be all over with you by that time, Helen," said 
 she. " And who knows what cares may not then be 
 coming on you ? .Your mother cannot go out with you 
 much, and Julia is a stranger in Paris. You will want 
 me to introduce you to all my tradesmen. If my daugh- 
 ter should happen to be in Washington this winter, she 
 must go as befits her position and fortune. What do you 
 say about that, darling ? " 
 
 " I think it would be better if none of us specu- 
 lated on such a contingency at present," said Helen. 
 " You will come to Paris, at any rate, mother. Per- 
 haps I may return to Hohentauben with you. In any 
 case, you shall have your full share in any experience of 
 mine." 
 
 Breaking their journey -by a halt at Nancy, they 
 reached Paris without events on the second day ; and 
 Mr. Dysart at once telegraphed to the steamer 
 " Mosel," at Southampton, that Mr. Audran would 
 find them at the Hotel Splendide. 
 
 At noon of the i6th Mr. Audran answered from 
 Havre that he hoped to reach Paris by the train at seven 
 the same evening. It was proposed that they should 
 wait dinner for him, but Helen objected. " Mr. Audran 
 will be tired and travel-stained," said she, " in no mood 
 for a dinner party " ; to which Alice provokingly inter- 
 posed, " Oh, very well, dear. You want him all for your- 
 self ; that 's natural enough." Eugene added, " We must
 
 378 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 let them adjust their little differences, you know, before 
 we shall know how to behave." 
 
 " The rest of you may do as you like," said Mr. 
 Dysart, "but I am going to the train to fetch him. 
 Whatever he may be to the rest of you, he is better than 
 any other man to me." 
 
 Helen's grateful glance answered for one, at least. 
 
 It was half-past seven when the gentlemen exchanged 
 their greetings on the platform. Each could give to all 
 the questions of the other the most satisfactory answers, 
 as they drove toward the hotel. 
 
 Yes, everybody was well. Mrs. Dysart's accident 
 was but an accident, and the traces of it were fast leav- 
 ing her. They were all going home; and he, had he 
 come over to go back with them ? 
 
 " There is only one who can answer that question," 
 said Mr. Audran, "and her answer I must have to- 
 night." 
 
 Would Mrs. Dysart excuse him for the present, and 
 would Miss Helen see him very soon ? 
 
 " Yes, we will all keep in the background, the proper 
 position for parents and friends in such cases, till we 
 are called in to play our part. In fact, Mr. Audran, I 
 think the rest of us might as well go to the opera. Shall 
 I tell Helen that you will meet her in the parlor in half 
 an hour ? " 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! In half an hour, or less," answered 
 Robert. 
 
 Helen was prompt to the appointment. " He shall 
 see me as he left me," she thought, as_she looked at
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 3/9 
 
 her dress of white grape silk, and the Sofrana roses 
 in her hair. She was standing, with beating heart, be 
 tween the curtains of the window when he entered the 
 room, and as she turned to meet him the soft light, fil- 
 tering through the crimson screen around the lustre, fell 
 on her flushing cheek and ivory throat. 
 
 " Helen ! " said he, with outstretched hand and ap- 
 pealing glance. 
 
 " O Robert ! " 
 
 " Helen, have I come for good ? " 
 
 " I hope so, indeed," said she. 
 
 " And you will not send me away again ? " 
 
 " I will not send you away." 
 
 " You will bid me stay ? " 
 
 " I will bid you do what is in your own heart, Robert." 
 
 " And you will be my wife, Helen ? " 
 
 " If you ask me, by and by I will." 
 
 " I have done nothing but ask you for two months. 
 Did I not ask you in that parlor at Interlaken, you 
 beauty ? " 
 
 " Bygones do not count." 
 
 " Then I ask you here and now, and there must be 
 only one answer. You belong to me, Helen ! No 
 other woman is worth my while. There is not another 
 soul to whom I could or would give your share in all 
 my life, my thoughts, my pleasures, my hopes, here and 
 hereafter. There is not another whose nature I can 
 understand or can reverence as I do yours." 
 
 " All this you will do ? " 
 
 " And more. I will wonder every day and all day
 
 380 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 that anything so sweet, so sure, so rare, should have 
 come to me after so many years." 
 
 " Then, Robert, my lord, you are all I want ! " She 
 lifted to him her face, radiant with the glow of a heart 
 unveiled, of a hope fulfilled. Her white arms were 
 closed around his neck with an instinct unquestioned 
 now, for his kiss was on her lips, and his breast absorbed 
 the beatings of her own. 
 
 And then, after a while, she released herself, and 
 smoothed her ruffled plumage and dried her happy tears, 
 and said, " Come ! Do you hear that music ? " 
 
 A band on the opposite balcony was playing one of 
 Verdi's waltzes. Again she stretched her arms toward 
 him, and away they went, whirling down the long sa- 
 loon ; then suddenly she stopped, placed her dimpled 
 hand on his chest, saying, " You dear man ! I forgot 
 that bullet through your lungs ! " and he answered, 
 
 " You charming woman ! I forgot your strained 
 shoulder, which I shall kiss twice, once for now, and 
 once for the time when I wished I might and did 
 not." 
 
 " Yes, but then I kissed you. I have blushed every 
 time I thought of it since; but if I never had kissed 
 you again, I should always have been glad I did it 
 then." 
 
 "You kissed me? You absorbed me, you mean. 
 Ypu drew every spark, every shade, of my resistance 
 with them when you took those sweet lips away. I said 
 I would, I should, all the world should not keep 
 me from having a thousand more."
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 381 
 
 "But not all at once, sir. Sit down now, and tell 
 me how we are going to live, and where." 
 
 " First, tell me when we are going to begin," said he. 
 
 " Oh, dear me, Robert, are we not happy enough 
 now ? Tell me, Mr. Legislator, am I to have a court at 
 Washington ? And will you go with the dear baroness 
 and me to get those robes of state which she is design- 
 ing for your receptions ? All the cow-boys of Colorado 
 will be there to tread on them, won't they ? " 
 
 " The baroness must come to us, must not she, Helen? 
 She will make such a grand, such a splendid cha- 
 perone ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Helen, " she is superb in a drawing-room 
 in the evening ; but you don't know, sir, how sweet, 
 how fascinating, how frolicsome she is in her cham- 
 ber in the morning. That is not for you, or the like 
 of you. What do you know of the charm which a 
 veteran woman of society has for a young questioning 
 thing like me ? " 
 
 " I know," said he, " one woman who need ask ques- 
 tions of none, who knows always exactly how to be- 
 have, and how to make others behave too." 
 
 " That 's me, of course," said Helen. " Yes, the 
 baroness must come, sir, and by and by Julia and the 
 baron. Do you know I am going to make those two 
 people just as happy as we are ? The baron would 
 have fallen in love with me, if I would have allowed it, 
 seriously in love ! He is too serious, by half, for me ; 
 but Julia is a match for him, just as intense and strong 
 a creature as himself. And Walter and Alice too :
 
 382 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 Is n't it just as it should be ? Answer me, you marry- 
 ing man, with a big household all ready for you ! " 
 
 "You don't mean to be crowded, do you, Helen ?" 
 
 " I don't mean to be crowded out of your company, 
 Robert. I am going to hunt up all your data and sta- 
 tistics in the congressional library, and then I am going 
 into the gallery to hear you rehearse them, Mr. Speaker. 
 I am going to put you into the Cabinet or some- 
 where ! " 
 
 It was nearly twelve when this small talk was brought 
 to a timely end by the arrival of the remainder of the 
 party from the opera. Alice ran on in advance, and 
 opened the door of the parlor. 
 
 " We may come in now, may n't we, Helen ? I am 
 dying to see Mr. Audran," shaking hands heartily. 
 " It 's all right, I know," said she, " just as well as if I 
 had been in the room all this time." 
 
 "Yes, it's all right," said Robert. "Helen is an 
 angel." 
 
 "We're all angels," said Helen. "Everything is 
 celestial, through and through." 
 
 " Now why can't Walter come ? " said Alice. 
 
 " He is coming, you dear girl," said Robert. " I tele- 
 graphed him from Havre, and he says he will be here 
 next week." 
 
 " Next week ? " said Alice. " Oh, deary dear ! Why 
 can't he come now ? We must go home in a fortnight, 
 and who knows when we shall see him again ? " 
 
 Robert had escaped from her, and was talking to Mr. 
 and Mrs. Dysart ; then he turned to Julia. " I am go-
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 383 
 
 ing to drop the ' Miss,' and say Julia, if I may, sister 
 Julia, perhaps, in time. Am I getting along too fast ? " 
 
 " Don't ask me, Mr. Audran. I am a cipher, a non- 
 entity. I am the walking lady of this opera." 
 
 " But they call you queen, Queen Julia," said he, 
 and I think I know why ; and I wish to be one of your 
 Majesty's lieges " ; and he raised her hand to his lips. 
 
 The days went by. The baroness and Walter came, 
 and later the baron. Every one seemed to be im- 
 mensely busy. The coterie rarely met before dinner. 
 By twos or threes, in carriages, each party, all day, pur- 
 sued their special quests, and Helen and Robert could 
 not be made to join them at theatre or opera in the 
 evening. 
 
 The outer world learned, by and by, what came of. 
 such activity, from the columns of that chronicle of 
 gossip, the " Swiss Times." On October 8 its Parisian 
 correspondent wrote, 
 
 " We have to report an event brilliant in itself, and 
 doubtless interesting to many Americans in Europe. 
 Yesterday, at the American Chapel, by the Rev. Dr. 
 Ganmor, of New York, were married the Hon. Robert 
 Audran, M. C. elect from Colorado, and Miss Helen P. 
 Dysart, daughter of the well-known banker, Adrian Dy- 
 sart, of New York. The ceremony was followed by a 
 reception, tendered by the American Minister to his 
 national representative. The company, though not large, 
 comprised many prominent Americans. The bride was 
 very much admired, not less for her beauty than for her 
 graceful and elegant manners. She was attended by
 
 384 MANUEL A PARADES. 
 
 her whole family, assembled in Paris for the occasion ; 
 the bridegroom by his brother, a student at Heidelberg, 
 and by General de Waldeyer and the Dowager Baroness 
 Waldeyer of Alsace. It is said that the Hon. Mr. Au- 
 dran had been their guest for a considerable period in 
 the early part of the season at Colmar, and that, while 
 travelling with them in Switzerland, he met Madame 
 Dysart and her three daughters, and renewed an ac- 
 quaintance which had previously existed in America, 
 whither the parties are soon to return. Baron de Wal- 
 deyer also is accredited with some important political 
 mission to Washington." 
 
 For later information we are referred to the following 
 letter to 
 
 WALTER AUDRAN, ESQ., 28 LEOPOLD STRASSE, 
 HEIDELBERG. 
 
 WASHINGTON, March i, 1878. 
 
 DEAR WALTER, To-morrow I am going home to New 
 Brunswick, after a delightful visit of three weeks. Of 
 the gayeties of the first ten days I have already written. 
 With the coming in of Lent the great receptions were 
 discontinued. Since then we have been dined and 
 
 wined only three times, I believe, at , and , 
 
 and . Early in the season the invitations were 
 
 addressed to the Hon. Mr. and Mrs. Audran, only ; 
 but since we have been sufficiently advertised, they are 
 so constructed as to include us all. We are " the Au- 
 drans and Waldeyers," a new party, in which society
 
 AND THE CHORUS. 385 
 
 evinces uncommon interest. Robert and his menage, 
 not to say his menus, have become a prominent social 
 topic. He is a new man, from a new district. Ev- 
 erybody wanted to know what he was like. He was 
 said to be a Colorado ranchero ; and people expected, 
 perhaps, that he would be " bearded like a pard," with 
 a big felt hat and cavalry boots, and hang around the 
 bar and corridors at Willard's. When they found their 
 man in the quiet, clean-cut, scholarly personage who 
 had taken Judge 's house, on I Street, for the sea- 
 son (it is one of the most ample and attractive in 
 Washington), they were more curious than ever; they 
 said he did not represent his constituency in the very 
 least. 
 
 Since his first speech on the currency, which surprised 
 and delighted Secretary Sherman, and Mr. Dysart 
 no less, he has been regarded as one of the leaders 
 of opinion in financial matters ; and has been obliged 
 to consent to go to Brussels next June, as the repre- 
 sentative of " bi-metallism " (whatever that may be) in 
 the " Monetary Conference." 
 
 This conclusion has precipitated another. The baron 
 and Julia are to be married in May, and to go over at 
 the same time. Baroness Julia de Waldeyer, of Hohen- 
 tauben, just think of it! They will go there, and 
 our dear old baroness will entertain them. It is a 
 shame to call her " old." There is a freshness about 
 her which " dulls not, nor is worn." 
 
 They are to return at different times, but will all be 
 here next winter.
 
 386 MANUELA PARADES. 
 
 Helen's receptions, on Tuesdays and Saturdays, are 
 always fully attended. The house has parlors en suite, 
 you know. Robert and Helen receive in the front room, 
 and the baroness and Julia hold court in the other. The 
 baroness is a great attraction. All the diplomatic corps 
 adore her, and all the older set of Washington people. 
 They say they have seen no such grande dame since 
 Mrs. Madison's day. And at home she is so lovely, 
 perfectly devoted and invaluable to Helen, but keep- 
 ing, we fancy, just a little out of Robert's way, for fear 
 he might think her disposed to draw Helen away from 
 him. 
 
 The baron lives at the Legation, but is apt to dine 
 with us, and play chess with Julia in the evening. By 
 the late hour at which she comes up-stairs, I should 
 judge that they must have very complicated games. 
 The community have speculated on the relations of the 
 baroness to the family ; but the current opinion seems 
 to be formed on the statements made in Paris, that 
 she and the baron are old friends of Robert's. No 
 pains are taken to enlarge their knowledge in this 
 direction. 
 
 Robert says you must come back with him, that is 
 the best of all. He says you might easily have a place 
 in the Capitol, as secretary of some committee ; but 
 neither you, nor any of us for you, would be content 
 with an inferior position like that, even for a time. I 
 quite agree with you that you should open your own 
 office at Denver. Robert says business will flow to you 
 at once.
 
 AXD THE CHORUS. 
 
 387 
 
 My dear boy, how much life and love has grown up 
 around and among us all since that blessed day when 
 \ve sat on the grassy slope of Rigi and looked at the 
 beautiful blue water ! You, of course, are the first figure 
 to me. I thank Heaven daily for your love, and I try 
 to become what I think you would wish me to be. 
 
 "No steep is hard for Love's white feet to climb." 
 
 God be with you, dearest ! 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 YOUR ALICE.
 
 THREE NEW NOVELS 
 
 BY THREE OF THE MOST POPULAR " NO NAME " AUTHORS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE HEAD OF MEDUSA. By GEORGE FLEMING, author 
 of " Kismet " and " Mirage." 
 
 II. 
 
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 Niece." 
 
 III. 
 
 BLESSED SAINT CERTAINTY. By the author of "His 
 Majesty, Myself." 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
 Boston.
 
 Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
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 NO NAME (SECOND) SERIES. 
 
 DON JOHN. 
 
 " Of the many pleasant volumes which this successful series has included, none 
 is more attractive than Don John. The plot is ingenious, something too much so ; 
 for the hurry of desire to disentangle its thread leads the reader to miss the charm 
 of the genuine modern idyl to which this harassing mystery seems alien. . . . Asa 
 last word to the reader read Don John as rapidly as you will for sake of finding 
 out the book's secret ; but be sure to read it again, for its sweetness must be drawn 
 out slowly as a bee takes honey from the little slim goblets of the pink clover." 
 Portland Press. 
 
 "Don John has the first and chiefest requisite of a novel, it is extremely 
 interesting from first to last. Nobody could mistake the plot, or no plot the 
 remarkable children . . . clever beyond the actualities of real life, unique as never 
 were any American nursery plants, whatever English ones may be, lustrous with 
 the author's peculiar humor, abounding in scintillations of aphoristic wit, with that 
 sad and only half-satisfying ending which Miss Ingelow is in the habit of giving 
 to her stories. It is largely a vivid picture of boy-aud-girl life, and as such is 
 specially delightful." Home yonrnnl. 
 
 " The delineation of character and the portrayal of the delightful relations ex- 
 isting between parents and children in the cultured circles of English middle-class 
 society, is most skilfully done, and it is safe to say that, though quite different 
 from the preceding novels of the ' No Name ' series, none exceed it in point of 
 interest and charm of style." A'. Y. Graphic. 
 
 "Don John, the latest of Messrs. Roberts Brothers' ' No Name" novels, is a 
 clever, entertaining, and in some repects an o:igiual book. . . . The story is 
 always interesting ; sometimes it is fascinatingly so. ... It is a novel in all re- 
 spects above the average. Not only will it fix and hold the reader in virtue of the 
 ingenuity of its plot and the spirit with which it is told, but there is very good 
 character work in it. ... The scene is England, and the story presents a very 
 charming study of English home life. The style in which the story is written is 
 very pleasing. While there are fine, delicate touches of pathos, the general tone 
 is bright and cheery, and at times the text becomes brilliant, especially in the 
 sayings of Charlotte. Above and beyond its power to amuse, the novel teaches a 
 lesson, well to learn. It is a valuable addition to the popular series." Boston 
 Post. 
 
 " The persons are well conceived and sustained, and in their various ways are 
 highly interesting. The plot is odd and effective. The book has a noble moral 
 tone, and there is much capital fun in it." Congregationalist. 
 
 In one volume, 16mo. Green cloth. Price, si. 00. 
 
 Our publications are to be had of all booksellers, 
 be found, send directly to the publishers, 
 
 When not to 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, 
 
 BOSTON.