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page: 0 (Advertisement) [View Page 0 (Advertisement) ]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 0 (Advertisement) BOOKS PUBLISHED BY MOORE, ANDERSON & CO. Poetry of the Vegetable World; A popular exposition of the Science of Botany, in its relations to Man. By M. J. SCHLEIDEN, M. D., Professor of Botany in the University of Jena. First American, from the London Edition of Henfrey. Edited by ALPHONSO WOOD, M. A., Author of the "Class Book of Botany." 1 Vol. 12mo. Illustrated. Second Edition ......................... $1 The Course of Creation: By JOHN ANDERSON, D. D., with a glossary of Scientific terms added to the American edition. With Numerous Illustrations. A popular work on Geology. Third Thousand. 1 Vol. ]2mo. pp. 384 . ............. $1 25 Life of Thos. Chalmers, D. D., L L. D.; By Rev. JAS. C. MOFFAT, D. D., Professor of Latin, and Lecturer on History in New Jersey College, Princeton. 1 Vol. 12mo. pp. 435. With a fine Portrait on steel. Third Edition .. ..............................$1 25 Scenes and .Legends of the North of Scotland; By IUGH MLLER, author of "Footprints of the Creator," etc., etc. Fourth Thousand. 1 Vol. 12mo. pp. 436............................ $1 00 Hart's History of the Valley of the Mississippi; 1 Vol. 12mo. Cloth.. ......... ........................... 88 The Three Great Temptations of Young Men; With several Lectures addressed to Business and Professional men. By SAMUEL W. FISHER, D. D. 1 Vol. 12mo. pp. 336. Third Thousand.... 1 00 Romanism the Enemy of Education, Free Institutions, and of Christianity; By N. L. RICE, D. D., Pastor of the Second Presbyterian Church, St. Louis. Third edition. 1 Vol. 12mo. Cloth ............................ 100 Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation; A book for the times, by an American Citizen; with an Introductory Essay by CALVIN E. STOWE, D. D. Twelfth Thousand. 1 Vol. 12mo.. O 65 Buchanan on Grape Culture, and Longworth on the Strawherry. Fourth Revised edition. 1 Vol. 12mo. pp. 144. Cloth...............$0 63 Borrow's Roving Adventures; By GEO. BORROW, author of "The Gipseys in Spain," "The Bible in Spain," etc. Large Type. Complete in one beautiful Octavo Vol., pp. 650.. $1 50 A Buckeye Abroad; or Wanderings in Europe and the Orient; By SAMUEL S. COX, Editor of the "OHo STATESMAN." 1 Vol. 12mo. Illustrated ................ . , . . . . . $1i2 page: 0Advertisement (TitlePage) [View Page 0Advertisement (TitlePage) ]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 0Advertisement (TitlePage) NOW READY! A STORY OF REAL LIFE, W RITTEN BY A WESTERN LADY, AND ENTITLED: MRS. BEN DARBY; OR THE WEAL AND WOE OF SOCIAL LIFE. One Volume, l2mo. This Ls a series of striking Pictrcs of nmenrican Social Life, drawn by an Artist of great skill-one who possesses a knowledge of society, as it appears in City and Country, Town and Village; whether seen amid the gay throngs of Saratoga, in the brilliant drawing-rooms of the great Commercial Metropolis, or in its more rustic develpments in the beautiful valleys of the Blue-Ridgc, or on the broad prairies of the We-t. The Authoress has shown her ability to delineate character with a power rarely equaled-her pictures, whether of high life, or squalid misery, are painted in colors that cannot be mistaken, and tlhir counterparts are sure to be located and recog- nized in every portion of the lanl. In a few Days: EARLY ENGAGEMENTS; BY MAIIY FRAZA LR. One neat Volume, l2mo. The title indlicates the character of this volume. The scenes are Southern and Western, and tho characteristics- of each are faithfully portrayed. The plot is well laHil, and replete with interest. The object of the Author is to show some of the evils resulting from Early Marriage '"Engagements." She would teach the lesson, that THE LIFE OF B, NT'NERHASSET; Comprising An Autlentic Narrative of the celebrated Expedition of A AoN 3lBuL, and containing many additional Facts not heretofore published. BY WILLIAM H. SAPFORD. One Volume, 12 mo. Clots. EARLY EARLY ENGAGEMENTS: AND FLORENCE, (A SEQUEL.) BY MARY FRAZAER. ' CINCINNATI: MOORE, ANDERSON, WILSTAOH & KEYS, 28 WEST FOURTH STREET. 1854. page: 0-v[View Page 0-v]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 0-v Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by MOORE, ANDERSON AND COMPANY, In the Clkrk's Office of the District Court for the District of Ohio. C A LItRGAN &: CO., STEREOTYIERS AND PUBLISHERS It" NL;DI) BTREST. TO I SHOULD regret exceedingly, my beloved nieces, that this volume, which I affectionately dedicate to you, should become the means of creating a morbid fondness for light literature. Deeply indeed, should I deprecate that which would cause you to prefer the gilt to the "refined gold." But as our Divine Saviour deigned to convey moral truths by means of parables, so I would seek, by this simple story, to impress your minds with the sense of an evil, whose victims are "legion." The story is founded, as you are aware, on the rash and thoughtless marriage engagement of a very dear friend, which resulted, as might naturally be expected, in an unhappy mar- riage; For evil is wrought by want of THOUGHT, As well as want of HEART. It is approaching the sacred matrimonial altar with irreverent steps, of which I would warn you. In perusing the sacred pages, you will find that Marriage is the first institution of the Great Creator for the happiness of our race, and, that that object may be attained, those holy vows should be assumed "soberly, thoughtfully andprayerfully." Then, and then only, may He be expected to "bless and hallow" the union. Accept this first unpolished effort of my pen, as a testimonial of the love and kind wishes of THE AUTHOR. (v) page: vi-7[View Page vi-7]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page vi-7 / EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. CHAPTER I. Give me the face That's warm-that lives-that breathes-made radiant By an informing spirit from within. Give me the face that varies with the thought, That answers to the heart, and seems the while With such a separate consciousness endued That, as we gaze, we can almost believe It is itself a heart, and of itself Doth feel and palpitate. THERE are those who say, thou art not beautiful, Ohio! that from thy source, even near to thy confluence with the Father of Waters, a spirit of monotony prevails. But though there be not the same variation in thy scenery as in that of the Queen river of the North, or the classic and storied Rhine, thou art deemed none the less fair, by those whose eyes were first unclosed upon thy beauteous borders; and to many thy unvaried aspect, renders thee more dear; for when years have flown, and new homes along thy shores, far distant from the parental hearthstone, have "wooed and won" them, no striking contrasts re- mind them painfully of their "exile from home"-even though stranger faces be about them, thine is the same familiar scene which greeted them pleasantly in the golden hours of youth. (7) page: 8-9[View Page 8-9]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 8-9 8 * EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. And who may say, thou art not beautiful, when the stern soul of the Red-man, was softened beneath thy magic sway-thoughts of strife and bloodshed, giving place to emotions of pleasure, as he gazed upon thee, and pro- nounced thee in the strong, terse terms of his native tongue, Ohio-lo-pe-clhee, or River of Beauty. La Belle Riviere, too, burst spontaneously from the lips of him of the pallid brow, whose eyes first rested on thee; and thy "sons and daughters" exclaim, though many are beautiful, "thou excellest them all." In the union of thy crystal waves with those of the great Father of Waters, too frequently art thou a prototype of life. For a time thou flowest by his side, struggling to preserve untarnished thy brightness and purity; at length, overcome by his 'superior might, thou art swallowed up forever in his murky waves: even thus has the bright and joyous being of the young bride, ofttimes, been lost in the darkness of the soul with which it sought to mingle. Not unlike thy beautiful rivals, around whom cluster legends, romances, and poems, thick as spring-flowers, thou also hast thy stories, and heart stories too, as we shall see. It was a strangely picturesque old house, densely shaded by forest trees, with a repose about it, deep and unbroken save by the low gurgling tones of a stream which swept through the lawn, or the dash of its waters over some pro- jecting fragment of stone. Lofty hills rose suddenly up from the shores of "La Belle Riviere," and wreathed themselves around the lovely vale of its location. The emerald lawn, glittering with its golden dandelions, as the EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 9 blue arch above with the silvery stars, stretched away to the pebbly beach, which framed in the sparkling waves- but whose freshness and murmurs, springing up on the wings of the passing breeze, were wafted away over the valley. In the rear of the mansion, the lawn extended to the base of the hills, along which the turnpike to a neighboring city led. Away up, amid the loftiest hills of the range, the stream had its source. As it ran laughing and singing adown the hill side, its course was broken into innumerable little cascades, until having neared the base, it swelled into one of greater magnitude; and with a bound of many feet over a ledge of rocks, it reached the level of the valley. And though there was naught of the grandeur and subli- mity of the great Niagara in this cascade, there was all of the beauty that characterizes that world-renowned wonder. Even the bow, unmindful of its lesser proportions, bent lovingly above it. Thenceforth its course unimpeded, the stream, with its bordering of purple and gold-for the sweet scented violet, the purple iris, and golden buttercup, grew in wild luxuriance along its margin-wound gracefully over the varied surface. "What a lovely spot!" was the natural exclamation of Mr. Delisle, a wealthy southern planter, gazing from the carriage as it sped rapidly along the turnpike, " and very different from your expectations, is it not, my daughter? In the massive proportions of the building, its ivy-crested turrets, the wide spreading lawn, and highly cultivated grounds, it bears a far closer resemblance to an English country estate, than a boarding-school for young ladies. Now if we find the inmates, but more especially the pre- ^. page: 10-11[View Page 10-11]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 10-11 10 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. siding genius of this enchanting region, all that Dr. Carson represents, you cannot be otherwise than happy during your residence here." The large, dark eyes of the maiden, were fixed with earnest attention upon the scene before her. "It is truly an Eden of loveliness," she exclaimed, with sudden enthusiasm; "but," she added in saddened tones, pearly drops gathering fast upon the silken fringes of those beautiful eyes, "its beauty will be naught to me, without your presence, my father;" and throwing her arms wildly around him, she murmured, "how can I endure this long separation. I who have scarce ever been absent from you a moment?" "Do not weep thus, darling. If I find your health not improving at the expiration of a year, you shall then return home. The separation will be most painful. I have not yielded my consent to it, without many keen and bitter pangs; and were it not for the alarming state of your health, I feel that it could not be borne. I cannot," said he, smilingly kissing her tears away, "see my flower fading for the want of congenial skies; and Dr. Carson assures me that three years' residence in this healthful clime, will completely restore you. This is the rainbow of promise, which, arching over my darkened skies, has nerved me to bear the separation, and will cheer me, and console me in my loneliness, during your absence. The carriage paused at the large gate opening into the Seminary domain; the coachman dismounting to open it. The eyes of Mr. Delisle and Florence again rested on the beautifully silent scene; but even as they gaze groups of fair and happy maidens bound forth through the open' door, EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. " and with prolonged and merry shouts put to flight the sweet repose of the grove. Their varied sounds of laugh- ter and song were borne down to the ears of our travelers. The carriage crossed the light bridge that spanned the stream, and rolling along the graveled walk, arrested the attention of the gay young sportants. Their games were instantly suspended, and numberless faces, beaming with. health and happiness, were directed inquiringly toward its occupants. Florence's father turned to her with a smile the most expressive of joy she ever remembered .to have seen light up his countenance, and said, "I resign you cheerfully, my daughter, to the genial influences of this place. On my return, a year hence, I hope to find the hue of health deep- ening brilliantly upon your cheek, and your step as elastic and vigorous as these young maidens'. My unbounded gratitude is due to Dr. Carson for having directed me to the means by which your health may be restored, and with it hope and happiness to our sad and gloomy home." As the carriage swept round the curved walk to the front of the building, Florence observed a grave and dig- nified lady, standing amid some flower plats, engaged as was evident, in giving directions to the gardener who, sur- rounded by the implements of his art, stood ready to do her bidding. Upon the portico, in the shade of one of its massive columns, there was a young girl, scarcely fourteen in ap- pearance, yet had she passed that period by several years, who was deeply absorbed in twining a garland of flowers around her straw hat. A profusion of sof';bwn: curls enveloped her neck an4 shoulders, and her co'lexion page: 12-13[View Page 12-13]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 12-13 12 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. was of so lily-like a fairness, one would scarce suppose the " ardent frown" of the day-god had ever rested on it, were it not that the features seemed to have caught their expression from his rays-for it was a face of living sun- shine. Her large, full eyes bore the azure hue of the sweet spring sky above her, and her plump and buoyant form, was enrobed in a muslin of the same cerulean tinge- a color scarcely less becoming to early youth than pure and snowy white. A smile of pleasure instantaneously wreathed her crim- son lips, as she glanced at the young stranger who was being lifted from the carriage; but it vanished as her more earnest gaze caught the pale, sad face and slight, drooping figure of the new comer. With a heart overflowing with sympathy, scarce a moment elapsed ere she was by her side, and gently drawing the young Southern girl's arm within hers, she assisted her to climb the steps and led her into Mrs. Ormond's private parlor. Drawing a large cushioned chair to the open window, through whose gossa- mer drapery a breeze, filled with the perfume of early spring, was softly stealing, she seated her and removed from about her the cumbrous envelopes which the deli- cate state of her health rendered necessary in traveling. Then taking an ottoman near her, had already engaged her in conversation when Mr. Delisle was conducted in by % Mrs. Ormond. With fond affection he placed the hand of his idolized daughter, in that of Mrs. Ormond, pleading for a warm place in her affections for Florence; and expressing also his happiness at having found one with whom he could safely 'trust the jewel of his heart. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 13 He spoke of the blight that had fallen on his home; that of the numerous flowers once blooming beauteously around his pathway of life, but this one frail bud had escaped the "dire frost" of the destroyer. He told of the utter hope- lessness with which he had nurtured her through her feeble infancy and childhood; and that Dr. Carson, their family physician, now encouraged the hope that the pure, bracing breezes of the north would strengthen and invigorate her fragile constitution; and continued he "the blooming faces of your pupils give me confidenee that our hopes will be realized. I shall return home with feelings of a far differ- ent character from those with which I left. Then, despite the kind efforts of my friends to cheer me, I could not divest myself of the most gloomy and painful apprehen- sions as to the result-and now, I feel a lightness of heart, a hopefulness of spirit, unknown for many years." While Mr. Delisle was speaking, Carrie, Mrs. Ormond's young sister, nestled closely and yet more closely to the side of Florence; and with one arm wound lovingly around her, she clasped her small, almost transparent hand warmly and sympathizingly. Mrs. Ormond also was deeply affected, and bending over her pressed a kiss, expressive of tender sympathy and affection, upon the marble brow of the young Southerner; then she addressed Mr. Delisle, saying: "Let me assure you, my dear sir, that no efforts will be spared to promote the health and happiness, the moral and intellectual im- provement of your daughter while she remains under my charge." When the conversation became general, Mr. Delisle complimented Mrs. Ormond on the exceeding loveliness of page: 14-15[View Page 14-15]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 14-15 " EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. her location, and spoke of the decidedly English character of the place. "It was once the home of an English family," said she, "who having met with an unexpected reverse of fortune in their native land, and being unwilling to occupy a posi- tion in society inferior to their former lofty station, 'gathered together' the remainsof their princely fortune and removed to this valley, then almost a wilderness; for the neighbor- ing populous city was in its infancy. They sought to model their new home after their old ancestral halls, but on a scale of far less magnificence; and it was the accom- plished lady of the mansion who planted the ivy which now covers the walls, and the sweet-scented violets that mingle their perfume with that of the native flowers along the margin of the stream which flows through the lawn. On the demise of his parents, the sole remaining heir wishing to engage in business in the city, offered it for sale, and I became the purchaser." Mr. Delisle was charmed with the. graceful dignity of Mrs. Ormond's manner; the refined and intellectual tone of her conversation; but especially with that innate good- ness of heart, which was shadowed forth in every lineament of her benign countenance, in every action, and in every word; and as their acquaintance matured, he became more and more deeply impressed with her pre-eminent qualifica- tions for the responsible station she occupied. She was not only an instructress, but a kind and loving mother to her pupils; one to whom they could pour forth their sorrows and childish grievances with the assurance of receiving the sympathy which maternal love so readily yields. Neither did she withhold the judicious counsel EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 15 which thoughtless, impulsive girlhood so frequently re- quires; and it was given in that kindly and deeply impres- sive manner which caused it to sink into the heart, to become its shield in the moment of temptation. Owing to this government of love, and the fine literary advantages the institution offered, its celebrity had become unparal- leled in the West. The joyous mirth of her young companions, when freed from the restraints of the school-room, proved so conta- gious, Florence soon joined with great zest in all the sports in which they engaged. Their healthful character, calling into exercise every muscle of the frame, soon wrought a very perceptible change in her system; the ex- cessive pallor of her complexion gave place to a clearer, more natural hue; and the tint of the young moss rose began to gleam upon her cheek; her spirits became more buoyant and equal, and the deadly languor and enervation which had formerly succeeded the slightest exertion, ceased. It was in truth the want of exercise that induced the fatigue. Surrounded by servants whose duty it was to anticipate her every want; and having no young compan- ions to challenge her to a game of romps in the open air, or a brisk ride through the forest-there was neither a neces- sity for, nor an incentive to, exertion. The only white inmate of her father's house, beside themselves, was his ward-a youth some few years older than herself; and he had hung tremblingly over her through her invalid life with a watchful tenderness, unequaled even by that of her father; shielding her from from every passing breeze, dreading lest the fell destroyer lurked within it. Mr. Delisle lingered long in the beautiful vale of S--, page: 16-17[View Page 16-17]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 16-17 16 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. tearing himself finally away from it with sorrowful reluc- tance; for it now contained the golden chain which bound him to the earth. He had the extreme gratification, how- ever, of witnessing the improved state of his beloved daugh- ter's health, before his departure. Long and fondly he clasped her to his bosom, gazing upon her with an expres- sion of yearning sorrow, as though he would behold her no more forever; then resigning her to Mrs. Ormond, he again besought her to guard well the treasure intrusted to her care. And though the pangs of separation had well nigh broken the heart of this devoted father, there was balm to his wounded spirit in the knowledge, that the idol of his tenderness, " whose life had been a scene of change- less love," whose sensitive heart was unscarred by a dark frown, or harsh word, was consigned to the care of one so kind, so gentle, so worthy of the trust, as was Mrs. Or- mond. Florence Delisle had just completed her fifteenth year, when placed at E-- Seminary, and though but in her girlhood, and enfeebled by disease, her beauty gave pro- mise of that glorious and queenly style for which the daughters of her clime are celebrated. Her eyes were large, dark, and lustrous, and their ever-varying shadows told of a loving heart, and a high, proud spirit. Her brow was full, broad, and lofty in its proportions, bearing the stamp of an intellect far above the meager portion usually allotted to her sex. Around her classically formed head, massive braids of the gloss and darkness of the raven's wing were wreathed in graceful profusion, and her counte- nance was of that living, breathing character, so beauti- fully described by the poet, at the beginning of the chapter. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 17 It was in truth her soul's mirror, upon which each thought, as it sprang into being, was radiantly reflected; and scorn- ing the slightest deception, she rather exulted in that fact, well knowing that her tell-tale face betrayed naught that she would blush to have revealed. In a word, to borrow an expressive phrase from that spendthrift of beautiful figures, Ossian-"she was covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the house of pride ;" but though pride dwelt there, the noblest and most generous impulses were also co-inmates. The whole human family partook of the embraces of her new friend Carrie's heart;but Florence's possessed no such expansive properties. Some rare quali- ties of mind and heart must exist in the person to whom she became attached --she must entertain a profound respect ere she could esteem, but loving with a passionate devotion, the few whose characters approached her exalted standard. From having'been reared without young society, her thoughts, tastes, feelings, and habits, were those of a more mature age. The languor of ill health, early inclining her to sedentary habits, books became her only sources of amusement; and they far more than sufficed for the depriv- ation of others-even physical ills were forgotten in intense intellectual enjoyment. At first, they were resorted to as a powerful opiate for the " thousand and one" disagreeable sensations, engendered by a diseased constitution ; but after a time, the stimulus acquired by such frequent and heavy draughts at the ' Pierian fount,' like the indulgence of all other stimulants, became a necessity of her nature. She became a devourer of books, gorging the mental appetite : 2 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 18-19 18 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. far beyond its capacity for digestion, and receiving, conse- quently, but little proportionate benefit from the mass of knowledge scanned thus rapidly. It was mere reading without reflection, which the great Philosopher of the Mind avers, " oppresses and enfeebles, and weakens not only the powers of invention, but the intellectual powers in gene- ral." Owing to the delicate state of her health, her edu- cation had been almost wholly neglected. She had learned to read, by some means, but at so early an age, that she had forgotten when or how. Such was Florence Delisle, when, for the first time, removed from those who might have adopted as their own the Arabian motto -"To hear is to obey" - her slightest expressed wishes being as a law to every member of her father's household. It was but natural that her proud re- serve would rather provoke enemies than secure friends- and such proved the result. Within a few weeks after her arrival she selected her friends, and holding proudly aloof from all others, became exceedingly unpopular with those whose characters in nowise assimilated with her own. She was regarded as haughty, overbearing, and unsocial, and her situation must have become extremely unpleasant from the host of enemies arrayed against her, but for the affec- tion of Caroline Neville. She had whispered on their first meeting, "we shall always be friends," and severely now was that friendship tested; for to the gentle and amiable Carrie, there was much to condemn in her new friend; yet had she discovered that there were bright gems in her na- ture, though now almost obscured by her defective educa- tion. She stood as a peacemaker between the belligerent EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 19 parties, gently soothing and extricating Florence from all her difficulties and troubles, and excusing her ungracious acts to her sister pupils, ever reminding them of the inju- dicious manner in which she had been reared. She pleaded forbearance for a time, assuring them that by such a course fragrant fowers might be made to bloom in a heart which was now a hot-bed of noxious weeds. "Blessed is the peacemaker," said He of holy birth- ay, thrice blessed are they who seek to allay the fierce, bitter, and angry passions which rouse the heart of man against his fellow. Strangely enough was it that Florence and Carrie, who were in every respect the antipodes of each other, should become such warm and intimate friends. Though possessed of a high order of talent, Carrie's mind was far more femi- nine in its attributes than her friend's. It had not the depth, and strength, and vigor, which characterized Flor- ence's; but from its earliest unfolding had received the most careful and elaborate culture. Of a refined and sen- sitive a gentle and loving nature, none could be in Carrie's presence without experiencing its softening influence; or know her, witout a feeling of amazement that so little of earthly taint rested on one who had advanced thus far in the pilgrimage of life. Florence became deeply attached to her. Gratitude for her numerous acts of kindness to one whom she felt had no claims upon her regard, together with the high veneration in which she held her character, soon produced the strong and ardent attachment of which natures only such as hers are susceptible, and they became as sisters to each other, page: 20-21[View Page 20-21]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 20-21 20 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. and singularly beautiful was it to behold the proud and haughty maiden leaning so trustingly on the milder and gentler, listening with a subdued spirit to the words of wisdom, and golden counsel that fell from her pure lips-- harshly though would they have grated upon the proud and sensitive nature of the young southern girl, had others of her companions dared to utter them. I, / . EARLY ENGAGEMENS 21 CHAPTER II, "The village preachers modest mansion rose, A man was he to all the country dear." "Thus to relieve the wretched, was his pride, And e'en his failings, lean'd to Virte's side But in his duty, prompt at every call, He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all; And as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." GOLDSMT. "On his noble brow Beauty with magnanimity sat enthroned." SIGOURNE. FAB away down the valley, at its lowermost extremity, a village nestled in close security under the shadow of the high hills. They were nature's breastworks, screening it measurably from the keen, rigid blasts of winter, and during the summer, casting a grateful shade over it, part of the day. The architectural simplicity of the buildings-the exqui- site little garden plats which encircled them, indicated that they were the homes of a people of simple, yet, refined and elevated tastes. Around the brow of the hills adjacent, the forest trees still grew in their native majesty; but they had been hewn from the sides, and smiling vineyards, in all the luxuriance and perfection of those of southern Europe, usurped their soil. The village of S---- possessed but a single public page: 22-23[View Page 22-23]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 22-23 22 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. building, and this was dedicated to the service of the ost High. A part of its basement, however, was used fd a public library, which numbered some several hundred well selected volumes. The inhabitants were generally an agri- cultural people; spending the day in toiling, as by divine command, for food and raiment for the body; but when the evening shades stole over the hills and vle, and re- leased the toil-worn laborer, then, beneath the vine-covered portico, or around the genial fireside, the mind sought its food; and the library, scant though it was, was to them "a pearl above all price." The spire of the village church towered loftily heaven- ward; directing with solemn emphasis, the thoughts of such as extract good from material objects as well as from those of heavenly origin, " above this globe of dust, above the passing day," to the bright world beyond. A writer has observed " that ou! thoughts, like the waters of the sea when exhaled toward heaven, lose all their bit- terness and saltness, and sweeten into an amiable humanity, until they descend in gentle showers of kindness upon our fellow men." None may gainsay this beautifully expressed truth. In the contemplation of that blissful region, the abode of the "redeemed made perfect;" of that God of purity, in whom " there is no sin nor the likeness of evil;" and of that "beloved Son" who during his sorrowing so- journ on earth, went about doing good to his fellow men; all the vile and sinful passions engendered by communion with the world must vanish, and in their stead, an "amiable humanity" take possession of the soul. The appearance of the village was attractive in the high- est degree, with its surrounding fields of waving grain, and / EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 23 its background of vines; nor could the eye rest on a more beautiful sight than extensive fields of the vine, when their graceful foliage and tendrils have covered with a mantle of beauty the rude stiff stake that upholds them; but more especially when the autumnal suns have deepened the pur- ple of the luscious clusters, and the delicious, exhilarating juice seems ready to burst from its velvet sheath. But there is a mournfulness comes over the soul in the contemplation of its beauty for though the juice of the grape was hallowed by divine blessing, and accepted by the Holy Sufferer as the emblem of "his blood shed for many;" the trail of the serpent has passed over it, and even amid its sparkling wavelets lurks the poison which debases the image of himself, which he placed on the earth. Very near to the church there arose a cottage, white as the new fallen snowflake, and whose surrounding garden exhibited a most elaborate culture, and unrivaled beauty of design. Rare and choice flowers of every hue, were growing in rich luxuriance, and the atmosphere was odor- ous with their delicious fragrance. Around the columns which supported the portico, flowering vines were wreathed in graceful profusion; the delicate leaves of the cypress and jessamine, their starry blossoms of crimson, and white and purple, entwined them in one long, loving and gentle embrace. This was the home of the pastor of the village ohurch; and he was the only brother of Mrs. Ormond and Carrie. Rarely if ever could so humble and unpretending a church boast a pastor so gifted both in the "inner and outer man." His form was the perfection of manly beauty, strength, and vigor, combined with grace and dignity. ,% -'.Y' -" page: 24-25[View Page 24-25]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 24-25 24 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. His high, pale forehead was shaded by locks of a darker, richer hue, than those of his young sister, to whom he bore a striking resemblance. A smile of sweetness and gentleness played over his fine features, and from every lineament " peace and good-will" toward all beamed forth. It was the outward semblance of a soul that fed on heav- enly food! His manners were pleasing and polished; his language chaste, pure, and beautiful; and had ambition found a rest- ing-place within his breast, his were talents to command the admiration-nay, adoration of a world, and to have given him a lofty standing among the master-spirits of the age. But "God gave," and to his glorious cause he dedi- cated those brilliant gifts. Far removed from the bustle and tumults, the vice and wretchedness of the city, within the limits of this secluded vale he broke the "bread of life" to its humble inhabi- tants. Amid the tranquil scenes of rural life, where hap- piness, comfort, and morality prevailed; " where every breeze breathed health, and every sound was but the echo of tranquillity," his soul expanded ever with emotions holy and profound; and praise and gratitude, like sweet incense, arose from out its depths to the Source from whence those blessings flowed. There was not a spot his eye rested on that bore not the impress of a God of beauty as well as love. The lofty range of hills towering up to the blue sky, upon whose summits the majestic forest trees lifted their heads in all the pride of ancient birth; the undulating surface of the valley, with its soft, rich covering of green, its luxuriant vegetation; the sparkling stream, with its flowery borders, EAiRiLY ENGAGEMENTS. 26 and the broader and brighter waters of the placid La belle Riviere-these, to the lover of nature and of nature's God, were charms of far more inestimable value than the fame and the applause with which the world greets the tran- scendently gifted of mind. There were few among his parishioners who might be termed learned: yet the beauties of his eloquence, and the strength of his wisdom were duly appreciated, though they might not know to what power to ascribe their magic influence. With honest sincerity they felt there was not another on the globe's surface who -could so clearly, so luminously, so beautifully explain to them the divine precepts of that Master whom they and he served. Beside the desirableness of the locality to one whose heart was attuned to the sweet concords of rural life, it was rendered still more agreeable to him by his sister, Mrs. Ormond, residing within the field of his labors. Carrie, the pure, the beautiful, the innocent, guileless Carrie of our story, was his youthful housekeeper, and presided over the parsonage with a dignity and grace becoming one who had numbered a score more of years. During the day, while she was in attendance of the valu- able instructions of Mrs. Ormond and her assistants, he visited his parishioners; soothing their sorrows, breathing hope and consolation to the heart oppressed with grief, and holding the balm-cup to the soul "parched beneath the burning ray" of sin. In their happiness equally with their sorrows, was he a participator; and the light of his smile, and his pleasant and kindly words, added to the happiness of many a hearthstone. 3 page: 26-27[View Page 26-27]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 26-27 26 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. After the duties of the day were over, he repaired to the seminary, and having taken tea with Mrs. Ormond in her room, he pronounced the evening benediction in the pre- sence of her household; then accompanied Carrie home. He was absent at the time our story opens, but had been apprised of the young Southerner's arrival through Carrie's letters. Carrie, like the bee which extracteth honey from the bloom of the rue and wormwood, leaving their bitter- ness untouched, closed her eyes to the failings of humanity, seeking out the good, the beautiful, the lovable traits upon which to fasten her gaze. She did not mention the imper- fections of her new friend, but dwelt in enthusiastic terms upon her beauty and grace; the devotion of her father; the tenderness of her nurturing; her orphaned state, being deprived of all natural friends save a father-until the young pastor, whose heart was ever open to all generous sympathies, felt a warm interest springing up in his breast for the fair unknown who had entwined herself so closely around the affections of his sister. Would that tour earth were more frequently brightened and purified by spirits such as thine, sweet Carrie Neville "To the pure all things are pure." We may not perceive that there are spots unillumed upon the disc of the glorious orb of light and life, until somewhat of the unrivaled splen- dor of his beams is shut out from dur gaze by a darkened medium; and it is through the dark medium of our own unregenerate hearts alone that we discover the failings of our fellow-men-not, alas! to sigh over them in silence, but to gloat over them, as a miser over his base coins, and to hold them up to the world's vision. Mrs. Ormond, though careful not to overtax Florence EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 27 with mental labor during her physical prostration, deemed it best for her to begin a regular course of study at once; but, notwithstanding Florence's deep and abiding love for books and the profound reverence and respect which she entertained for persons of high intellectual acquirements, she found the slow and patient toil, which a thorough inves- tigation of the different sciences requires, to be irksome in the extreme. Equally as unaccustomed to mental as to physical exertion, the hill of knowledge proved to her, as to a host of others, steep and rugged despite the efforts of those who have gone up before to smooth its paths; and it was long ere she seemed disposed to begin its arduous ascent energetically. Carrie, hex devoted friend, assisted her in her lessons as far as she was able; explaining and re-explaining all that her teachers failed to make comprehensible; but with a mind only partially fixed upon her studies, she would grow impatient and restive, frequently dashing her books down violently, and with a look of weariness and disgust exclaim- ing in strong, decisive terms, "I can never master them- the attempt is useless." It was after h scene of this kind that Carrie having exhausted her explanatory powers, with even less success than usual, endeavored to cheer her by saying, "Do not be so discouraged, dear Florence, when Theo returns" (it was by this euphonious abbreviation she loved to call her brother, though the full name, Theodore, was most dear to her, reminding her by its Greek signification that he was "God's gift" to her, and in removing her earthly pa ents,- most truly had he proved "the best gift of his' Provi- dence"), "when Theo returns he will present so clearly to y A page: 28-29[View Page 28-29]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 28-29 28 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. you all that now seems incomprehensible, that a mind the most dull and sluggish could understand. I have found his explanations and commentaries so interesting that insead of my studies being dry and irksome, they have proved 'fascinating as a fairy tale.' Come, cheer up, dear Florence, he will soon return." Still laboring under the influence of the unpleasant feel- ings a disagreeable task is apt to produce, she replied quickly: "No explanations, however clear or interesting, could invest these hateful lessons with a charm to me. Beside, what right have I to suppose he will feel interested in my improvement? You are his sister, and it is natural he should seek to enlighten you upon all necessary sub- jects; but I have no claims upon his services, and if I had, I would very willingly dispense with them, for I detest preachers-yes, I would rather be the veriest ignoramus in creation than to be taught by one." This hasty and uncourteous reply fell upon the gentle heart of Carrie as the blighting avalanche upon the ver- dant vale. It was not alone the rude rejection of her efforts to encourag'e Florence, nor of her brother's kindness which she had proffered, that wounded her so deeply; but also Florence's disrespect for that class of men who, as the vice- gerents of God upon earth, she felt were entitled to the higilest honor and respect. She was grieved too, that the profession her brother had chosen and so nobly adorned, should have prejudiced Florence against him ere yet they had met. Neither "the soft word that turneth away anger, nor the grievous words that stirreth up strife," arose to the quiver- ing lips of Carrie, but, fixing her eyes, whose azure discs EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 29 were fast becoming suffused with pearly drops, for a moment upon her friend, she turned in silence away. That soft, reproachful glance quivered like an arrow in the bosom of the impetuous girl, and was far more potent in its effect than any other species of rebuke. She bounded to her side, and folding her closely to her breast, said, "Pardon me, dearest Carrie, pardon me once more. How I loathe myself for having caused these tears to flow, and wounded the heart whose overflowing affection has caused me to forget that 'I am a stranger in a strange land.' Forgive me, and I will even promise to love your - brother for your sweet sake," she laughingly exclaimed, "and listen to his explanations and commentaries, as you are pleased to term them, with all becoming attention, even though they be as long and as dry as the moral law. Se- riously, I meant not exactly what I uttered. But the de- portment of preachers is so solemn and grave, I never feel at ease in their presence." A kiss sealed the forgiveness of the offense, and the smile that lit up the face of the young Carrie, was beautiful as that of Nature's after an April shower. But not thus evanescent was the sorrow of Florence. Her impulsiveness was thus ever leading her to utter things, which, in her cooler moments, clothed her spirit in "sackcloth and ashes." - Her rudeness and harshness upon the present occasion seemed unjustifiable in her own , eyes, and though it was the hour of recreation, and the grove resounded with the merry shouts of her young com- panions, she felt no inclination to join their happy sports, but wandered alone and unhappy down toward the stream which, like a silvery belt, girdled the lawn. She paused page: 30-31[View Page 30-31]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 30-31 30 -EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. upon the light, graceful bridge that spanned it, and leaning over the railing, gazed upon its shining waters. Bitter drops forced themselves from her eyes, and falling upon it broke the polished surface into innumerable little circlets. For the first time since her arrival, she felt the pangs of "home sickness"--a disease as baneful in its effects, though jeeringly spoken of, as those that yield their power to the force of mineral and vegetable remedies. The thought of home overpowered her. "Oh! why, my father," she ex- claimed, "did you remove me from the friends whose affec- tion could survive every test? Alas! I see my wayward- ness and impetuosity must turn from me the hearts here disposed to regard me with tenderness. Deeply absorbed in gloomy reflections, she remained in this attitude of dejection until the sound of a footstep aroused her attention, and forgetful for the moment that she occupied a place liable to intrusion, she drew her form proudly up, and turned her large, dark eyes, glistening with the dews of her sorrow, upon the intruder. But the haughty glance vanished like the mist before the morning's beams, as she encountered the mild, yet searching glance fixed upon her. The countenance that met her view was one resplendent with intellect and benevolence, and in the depths of those mild blue eyes, she read sympathy, interest, and admiration for herself. With a low bow, and it seemed an almost invo- luntary pronunciation of her name, he passed on. The low, deep tones of his voice vibrated upon her wounded spirit as a chord of rich music, and her recent dejection was swallowed up in intense curiosity (a constitu- tional defect, it is said, in women,) about the stranger. 5 ' EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 31 Her eyes followed the receding figure. "Who can it be?" thought she; "the countenance is familiar and he seemed to recognize me instantly ; but I cannot have met him before? Pshaw! what an absurdity!" and she laughed derisively at the thought; "there is a resemblance to Carrie, but it is an impossibility that he should be. the parson." Again she laughed in scorn as she said, 9"That elegant form, whose graceful, dignified carriage, and whole exterior appearance would charm even the fastidious Ches- terfield-a country parson? Ay, if our pastor Should deign to bestow even an occasional smile upon us, such as that which seems habitual to the stranger, I might learn to like even so rigid, and stern, and gloomy a being, as I can well imagine him to be. But doubtless his face is as destitute of a smile, as the bodies that revolve around the sun, are naturally devoid of light, and should an occasional one flit over it, it must be from the same cause by which they are illuminated--mere reflection. r They tell me he is unmar- ried; I surmise he is some stiff, self-righteous old Pharisee, who, devoutly thankful for being more holy than the rest of creation, and despairing of finding perfection in woman- X kind, or of being able to entice an angel into these sinful realms, has resolved to live a life of single blessedness. A sage conclusion, truly! but not likely to redound to the comfort and happiness of his parishioners; for without the influence of domestic love, he is doubtless more stern and gloomy, and disagreeable, than others of the profes- sion." Again her thoughts reverted to the stranger -- "Who can it be, or where has he met me before?" page: 32-33[View Page 32-33]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 32-33 32 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. Florence had read of the infatuated victim who thrusts his body beneath the crushing wheels of the car of Jug- gernaut-of the mother, who, stifling every tender emo- tion, casts forth her darling into the devouring waves of the Ganges-of the widow, consumed upon the funeral pyre of her husband-of the sacrifice of human life to the gods of more enlightened nations-of the persecution and agonizing death of the Founder of the Christian Religion- of the horrible tortures of the Inquisition-of the burning fagot, the taunt, the gibe, the sneer, leveled at the mem- bers of every sect, until religion (unrelieved by practical observation and experience), of every clime and creed, had become linked with associations of a dark and repul- sive character. A mother, is usually the earliest religious instructor- but Florence's infant form had never bowed beside a mother's knee, nor had her childish tones been moulded into words of prayer-her mother having died in giving her birth. Unfortunately, the pastor of the church nearest her father's plantation, which in her occasional intervals of health, she attended, was stern, rigid and morose as the 'Coyenanters, or early Puritans. The dark shadows of the hills, lay heavily over the valley, and the soft, mild radiance of the evening star, lit up the western sky, as a smile of Heaven. And hark I the vesper call for prayer, As slow the orb of daylight sets, Ls rising sweetly on the air. Florence turned with an unusually thoughtful pace to- ward the seminary. As she passed to her accustomed seat EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 33 n the room appropriated for devotions, the tones of a roice-deep, rich, and full as the diapason of an organ, Sell upon her ear-and looking up, she beheld the strangerB of the bridge, engaged in prayer-his countenance wrapt, and holy in its expression, and words of burning eloquence bursting forth from his lips. His voice thrilled with yet a richer melody, as he breathed forth his thanks for his re- storation to his beloved charge, and the conviction forced itself upon Florence, that this was the pastor-Carrie's brother, of whom she had so often spoken. As she listened to the impassioned eloquence of that prayer, her surprise continued to deepen. "What could induce one so gifted to immure himself within the circum- scribed limits of this valley, instead of seeking the exten- sive field, such talents should command? Talents without ambition are valueless, and it is evident he is unworthy their possession; he knows not how to appreciate them." The service was over, and a genial, heartfelt smile, illumed the features of the pastor, as he warmly pressed the hands of those who flocked around him, to express their joy at his return. His eyes sought out the young stranger, and encountered the flashing brilliancy of her glance. A moment hence, and she had passed through a side door to avoid the introduction she saw awaited her. Although he had stood before her, shorn of all the disagree- able and repulsive features, with which her imagination had invested him, her prejudice against the profession was so violent, that her dislike for him had not abated, but with it there now mingled the most supreme contempt-for what she deemed in him, a want of self-appreciation. )I \ ' ';! page: 34-35[View Page 34-35]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 34-35 34 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. "The eloquence of a Cicero, enshrined ill a country pulpit!" and her proud lip curled in scorn; ,and I see too, unless I regard this preacher, as 'the most faultless monster the world e'er saw,'Carrie's affection cannot sur- vive the test; but I cannot respect one so devoid of all honorable ambition." To her, as to the world in general, talent seemed the exclusive possession of the forum. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 3 5 CHAPTER III. Upon whose lips the mystic bee hath dropped the honey of persuasion. Is then that noble end to feed this mind with knowledge, To mix for mine own thirst the sparkling wine of wisdom? TUPPER. Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul! Sweet'ner of life- And yet a fault we often find Mixed in a nobly generous mind. Yet, when I find your passion rise, And anger sparkling in your eyes, I grieve those spirits should be spent, For nobler ends by nature meant. SWIFT., IT was the sweet spring-time, with its fragrant breath and wealth of flowers and melodies, when we parted with our heroine; but the full meridian splendor of the year has passed away, and the gorgeous tints of autumn glow upon the leaves of the forest trees, that crown the summits of the hills, and embower the seminary. Golden, orange, crimson, deep purplish-red-Dame Nature, like Egypt's fair, but frail, perfidious Queen, had robed herself in richest attire, to await the coming of the King of Terrors. Beneath a wide-spreading chestnut, whose dense foliage was as yet unharmed by the autumnal blasts, there were three youthful figures. . A hedge of the ever-verdqnt laurel, and. other shrubs, encircled it on all sides but one; and through this, the glittering surface of the river, and --the lofty hills that closed down to its brim on the opposite shore, were discernible. The voice that issues from the inclosure, is that which page: 36-37[View Page 36-37]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 36-37 3G EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. was lifted up in earnest prayer at the close of the last chapter; but its tones are now void of the depth and fervor which characterized them on that eventful evening. A root, of the huge tree that towered superbly above him, had burst forth from its dark prison, and upon this the young pastor sat; encircling the yielding form of his sister with one arm, and with the other supporting the volume from which he was reading. The loving eyes of Carrie, were upturned to his, and while her tiny hand toyed gently with the dark-curling masses that overshadowed his brow, she listened with pleased attention to the poet's description of the wanderings of the beautiful Peri, while seeking for the gift which should remove the crystal bar of Eden, and un- close its golden gate. But though it was Erin's glorious harp that vibrated be- neath the pastor's tones, it called not forth their full depth and richness, as the sweet songs of inspiration were wont to do. Once only, his voice thrilled with all its strength of melody, as the soul of the poet for one moment seemed to flow in unison with his own: "Go, wing thy flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far As the universe spreads its flaming wall; Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply them through endless years, One vmoent of Heaven, is worth them all." Upon the grass, whose rich verdure the overshadowing leaves of the chestnut had preserved from the blighting breath of the frost-king, sat the proud southern girl; her lips parted breathlessly-her hands clasped in ecstasy--her dark eyes gleaming with the softened brilliancy of the day- star, and the delicate hue of returning health, deepened by EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 37 the excitement of the moment, into a warmer, richer color- ing than that which stained the forest leaves. Her en- chanted spirit soared away on the wings of the Peri. To her, the low, murmuring tone of the river, was the "music flowing from the springs of life," and the rustling of the leaves above her were the "crystal bells of Eden," ring- ing in their own "ambrosial breezes." It was her own favorite poet, whose exquisite creations were falling upon her charmed ear, and whose power, in by-gone days, was all omnipotent to assuage many a pang. And if to her uncultivated ear the melody of his verse had seemed sweet as the " music of the spheres," with what intense devotion did she now, her taste refined and elevated and ethe- rialized by #nore intimate communings with the spirit of poesy, bow before his magic shrine. Fastidiously she turned from all others to the muse alone, in which no de- formities existed to shock her finely-organized sensibilities; but in whose polished and glittering and harmonious verse the "genius of poetry has breathed its richest enchant- ment." Her soul was as a mirror reflecting the brilliant spark his own was said to have extracted from the great Source of life and heat; and it was well for this being of passion, impulse and enthusiasm that her brilliant imagina- tion, her luxuriant fancy, were tempered by strong common sense. A master-piece of elocution, truly," she mentally excla- imed. "Would that thy jeweled thoughts, Tom Moore, might ever find so worthy a deliverance, even though it be by one disposed to depreciate all human composition." In the months that had intervened since her introduction to Theodore Neville, if Florence had not learned to like page: 38-39[View Page 38-39]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 38-39 38 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. him, she at least no longer regarded him with the aversion which characterized her feelings toward him previous to, and in the earlier days of, their acquaintance. At first her dislike had increased "an hundred fold," for he had taken a liberty none other had dared to do, that of acquainting her with her own multitudinous imperfections, which the blind love of her father had concealed from her vision Gently. and soothingly he chided her, as a fond mother w ould a wayward child, yet her proud spirit could brook no reproof. She would fix her large, dark eyes on him, flashing with amazed indignation at his presumption in reproving one so perfect as she had been taught to regard herself, and turn hauglltily away from him, every action betraying how unpalatable were his rebukes. "I foresaw," she would say, " that I should be con- stantly shocking this self-righteous parson by my worldli- ness and impetuosity; but that he should assume the office of censor, and pass condemnation on my every act, this has rather exceeded my expectations. I detest him-I detest him," exclaimed the passionate girl, "and wish so sin- cerely he had never returned. He is constantly forcing himself in my presence, when, were he possessed of a spark of gentlemanly pride, he would perceive by my avoidance of him, that his society is anything but agreeable, and cease his persecutions. "Doubtless," and at the thought her tears flowed in torrents, "he will interdict Carri's intimacy with me; he will fear to expose his pure and guileless Carrie to an influence so evil and pernicious as he evidently regards mine to be; and if deprived of the sweet solaces of her affection, no power on earth could force me to remain one hour in this hateful place." EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. .39 Florence misjudged the pastor in this, as in many other respects. So far from disapproving their intimacy, the warm affection that existed between them was to him a source of sincere pleasure. He did not, as Florence sup- posed, fear to expose the purity and holiness of such a character as his sister's, for well he knew that its founda- tion was upon a rock-even the Rock of Ages, and that the devastating storms of sin were powerless to effect its ruin. On the contrary he hoped much from its influence over the impetuous, but noble-hearted Florence. It was mournful to him that the culture of a mind and heart of so rich mate- rials should thus long have been neglected, and that rank weeds had been suffered to luxuriate in a soil, where "flowers and fruits meet for eternity,' should grow. He entered with pleasure upon the duties Carrie assigned him in the intellectual culture of her friend, and sought by every means in his power to arouse Florence to mental ex- ertion; and it was not long ere Carrie's prediction became verified; her studies proved fascinating as are the legends of fairies to childhood. We shall borrow Milton's beautiful climax to close the paragraph "The hill-side which, at the first ascent, had seemed so laborious" to her, "was now so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospects and melo- dious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming." Under his private tuition, the culture of the mind and heart were intimately blended. Were grammar the study under contemplation; he illustrated, by means of the abso- lute and entire dependence upon each other of the members that compose the great family of words, the beautiful har- mony of brotherhood existing in the human family, where page: 40-41[View Page 40-41]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 40-41 40 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. the weak and the strong are mutually dependent; and thus taught her the vanity and absurdity of that pride which causes man to boast his independence of his fellow man. Were it the delightful science of Linnaeus that engaged their attention; how quickly was the thought led up from the tender leaf-the graceful cup--to the hand "that fashioned" it; to Him who had breathed into its beautiful bosom the fragrant breath, and dyed it with the colors glowing in his own bow of promise. In its perishing na- ture, blooming to-day in magnificence unsurpassed by "Solomon in all his glory," yet, to-morrow, withered beneath the noontide sun or northern blast, he pointed out its close similitude to human life, and taught her of the transientness of all created things. Were it the laws that regulate the motions of the endless systems of worlds that claimed their amazed attention; he sought to impress her with true conceptions of the might, pt the majesty, the wisdom of the Being who had conceived and kept in order this stupendous machinery, in comparison with whose wondrous powers, all man's boasted superiority of intellect is as naught, and he stands forth in utter insig- nificance, as " but an atom of dust." It was thus the young pastor instilled into the mind and heart of Florence the wisdom of this world and of the world to come. With profound insight into the native depravity of the heart, he had searched out her peculiar defects, and applied himself vigorously to remove them. That they were in a great measure the result of an unwise training, gave him hopes of a speedy eradication. He had early dis- covered the undue regard she paid to wealth, beauty and intellect, and sought to correct her false valuation of them. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 41 His moral lessons were a novel kind of lore to Florence, and in direct contradiction to the teachings of her whole life. Her proud independence was humbled, for he had shown her that, by a wise provision of Providence, none are, or can be, exempt from dependence; that, as in a sentence, the smallest word frequently becomes the most important, the very hinge on which the sentence turns, so the hum- blest individual in society may be the most useful-the one on which the general comfort- most depends. Of her beauty, which, from her infancy, had called forth the high- est encomiums from her friends, and which she, in conse- quence, was disposed to exult Aver as a treasure " above all price," hehad taught her by the transient beauty of the flowers which "to-day are, and to-morrow are not," the worthlessness of treasures so fleeting. Even in her reve- rence and adoration of intellect he foresaw evil, and endea- vored to show her the lilliputian character of the powers of the strongest intellect, when compared with those of the Great Intelligence above. Well might Florence have bowed her proud form in deep and earnest gratitude to Him who had directed her foot- steps to the vale of S-- ; for if, as the Apostle tells us, "evil communications corrupt good manners," then must pure and elevated sentiments and enlarged benevolence produce a purifying and exalting effect: and fortunate, thrice fortunate are those who come within the pale of their ennobling influence. Her intimate association with two whose gentleness of soul, elevation of mind, grace of disposition, and refinement of manner are rarely to be found in this degenerate world, removed the vail from her eyes and exhibited in strong 4 page: 42-43[View Page 42-43]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 42-43 42 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. contrast her own deformities of character. She no longer recoiled in anger from the pastor's gentle reproofs, for she Could not meet his grave and sad expression without feel- ing how repugnant it was to natures such as his to censure; but that he dared-not shrink from aught that he conceived to be a duty; and that he was seeking to mould her char- acter into the beautiful form of his young sister's-one which she herself, in her enthusiastic admiration, regarded as the most perfect on earth. She exerted herself nobly to restrain every propensity to err, and as months wore on, they wrought (much to the gratification of the friends so deeply interested in her) a gradual transformation. The young pastor felt the interest his sister had awak- ened previous to his acquaintance with Florence, deepening daily. Various causes contributed to this; her youth, her distance from her friends, her beauty-yes, her beauty, too, for to a nature so susceptible to impressions of loveliness as was his, so faultless a specimen of beauty could not fail to excite his admiration: her rare and original powers of mind; her generous, enthusiastic, affectionate disposition which even overweening indulgence had not sullied, all were as so many links to bind her to his heart, and it was a golden chain that bound, whose fetters were to be un- clasped no more forever. Will the reader forgive the digression while I pause to pay a brief but feeble tribute to the memory of one whose kindness and love shed such a halo of happiness on the halcyon period of my youth? Dear, good, ever-to-be-venerated Mrs. Ormond, our much-loved preceptor! how "pleasing, yet mournful to EARLY. ENGAGEMENTS. 43 the soul" is the remembrance of the elysian hours spent within thy home. Alas! that they should have flown so fleetly. Alas! that happiness, such as then enjoyed, shall be our portion on earth no more. With the joy of a pri- soned bird, whose wings have been suddenly unfettered, the mind flies from the dark realities of the present-the revealings of the dim and shadowy future-to that sweet oasis of life, which the sunshine of thy love made so bright and beautiful. Bright, fleeting hours! ye are treasured, with all your hallowed teachings, in memory's choicest cells. Though the green sod rests above thee now, our more than "mother!" thy virtuous example, thy priceless pre- cepts will live through all time, and their impress be foundl i in eternity! While the hearts of those upon whom thou wast wont to bestow the sweet title of "daughters" are touched and melted in grateful remembrance of thy labors of love, a wail goes up from out their depths, in that thy gentle ministry on earth is ended. Often, when the holy hush of twilight rests upon the earth, scenes of those loved hours return; again ye are before me in all the majestic dignity of the Roman matron, and the gentle loveliness of the christian mother. Again we are gathered about you to sing our evening hymn of praise, and on either side of you, as in days of yore, occupying the seats of honor, as we termed them, are the little orphans of our flock-Ada and Mina, and Bella and Ridie, with their tiny hands clasped lovingly in thine. The knell of those vanished hours rings mournfully through my soul; but, Oh! may we all be reunited in that bright home where now thy freed spirit dwellest, whose prototype thine earthly home was. O - page: 44-45[View Page 44-45]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 44-45 " EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. Knowing how the buoyant, exuberant spirits of youth chafe at confiement within doors in the vernal season of the year, Mrs. Ormond, ever mindful of our present happi- ness as well as that which was to come, permitted us at the close of recitations for the day, to take our books and roam freely over the beautiful domain of the seminary, and seek out some retired spot to prepare the lessons for the coming morrow. Were any disposed to be negligent of their duties, the penalty was confinement to the warm, close solitude of the school-room on the succeeding day; and I need scarcely add that the delinquents were few in num- ber; for under the genial influences of the forest the per- ceptions become clearer, and the mind more readily grasps and overcomes difficulties. Each pupil of us had some favorite nook to which to resort; and Florence and Carrie had selected the inclosure of the chestnut, where they were now seated, for their "studio," as they playfully termed it. It was in this sweet seclusion that the mind of Florence first became im- bued with a full appreciation of study. It was here the young pastor sought them, and administered the wholesome reproofs which at first, as we have seen, called forth bursts of indignation, and the instructions which awakened the desire for mental and moral improvement. After the appointed tasks were duly mastered, he read to them, as we find him engaged on this evening, from some work of his own or of their selection, until the vesper bell summoned them to the seminary. The English classics had engaged them mostly, through the past summer months, and he had directed Florence's attention to beau- ties of style and sentiment, unperceived by her in her former EARLY ENGaGEMENTS. 45 rapid flight over the same pages. It was by this refining process that her fine mental powers were developed and improved. The highly poetical temperament of Florence most fre- quently inclined her selections to be from the poets; for to her poetry was the dessert of the intellectual banquet-the "crowning glory of the feast." It was she who had requested him to read Moore's inimitable "Paradise and the Peri," which she was now drinking in with such ecsta- tic pleasure. The Peri's wanderings were ended-the book was closed-- and the golden atmosphere of youth's delicious reveries en-i veloped them in its folds. Never were there three youthful countenances more exultant of happiness, or more attractive in their various types and shades of beauty, than those be- neath the chestnut's shade, which the sweet south winds were fanning with their gentle breath. Several crimsoned leaves fell with a gentle murmur upon Florence's clasped hands, and rousing from her reverie, she gazed for a moment upon them, then turning to the pabtor, said: "(I am reminded by these falling leaves, of the near termination of our visits to this pleasant resort. A fewr weeks more, and nature will be enwrapped in Winter's cold and dreary mantle, and Carrie and I will be glad to avail ourselves of the genial warmth of the school-room for a 'studio.' Your valued instructions will then cease; I hope ardently, though, to be renewed again in the Spring, for I cannot willingly dispense with them. And if it be true, as Mrs. Ormond flatteringly tells me, that my progress in the studies assigned me, has been almost unparalleled, I cannot % but feel deeply grateful to you for my success." The -: page: 46-47[View Page 46-47]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 46-47 " EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. expression was more grave and earnest, than the countenance of Florence De Lisle had ever before assumed-a moment more and it had vanished. "Confess," continued she laughingly, "Mr. Neville, that in the early stage of our acquaintance, you thought me the most degenerate of all the daughters of Mother Eve; as ferocious as a young ti, gress, and as untamed and uncivilized, as the red-browed maidens who once roamed in proud independence through these grand old forests." "I do confess," replied Mr. Neville, "that I was pained to discover some traits of character which I could not wholly approve-dark spots they were, which sullied and marred its beauty; but my gratification is heightened in consequence of their rapid disappearance, and its 'growing brighter and brighter, I hope, 'even unto a more perfect day.' " Very grateful to the ear of Florence were these words of praise; more so, perhaps, than she would have willingly owned; for she felt that it was no vapid compliment, but the utterance of a heart of sincerity and truth. And as the sun sank slowly down to rest upon his golden bed, and the bell resounded throughout the vale, calling in the stray- ing lambs to the nightly fold, Florence turned homeward with a heart softened toward the young pastor. EARLY, ENQAaEMENTS. 47 CHAPTER IV. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismay'd, The youthful champion stood. At his control, Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul, Comfort came down the wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise.-4-OLnD8MTH. Love I gentlest spirit I do tell of thee. LANDoN. By love invulnerable thought, Searching in books for wisdom's aid, Was in the very search betrayed. SWIPT. Your lessons found the weakest -part, Aim'd at the head, but reach'd the heart. I. THE first year of Florence's residence in S-- valley had passed, and the anniversary of her arrival was glad- dened by a visit from her father, who paused in his north- ern tour to spend several weeks with her. His heart was overjoyed beyond the power of language to express, at witnessing the wondrous improvement which the passing months had wrought. He beheld his darling growing rapidly into womanhood -glorious, blooming womanhood-her health permanently restored, and her intellect expanding, strengthening, and maturing under Mrs. Ormond's wise supervision. Her wild exuberance of spirits (usually the offspring of a vigorous state of health and a heart overflowing with happiness) almost brought back youth to his soul-at all events, under their magical influence, the concomitants of that blissful period-joy and nappiness-once more returned to him. page: 48-49[View Page 48-49]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 48-49 48 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. There was now a sure prospect of the realization of cer- tain ambitious hopes cherished, almost unconsciously, for years-even in that gloomy period when she was wasting away by disease, lying apparently under the ban of " those whom the gods love." They were in reference to her future establishment in life. Though to his fond heart '"the purple (and fine linen" of royalty were alone the fitting vestments for his idolized child, and though he felt the proudest throne in Christendom would be graced by her presence, he was too true a republican to sigh for the honors of royalty for her. Unbounded wealth and the influence it commands was the extent of his loftiest aspirations, and this mirlght be secured by her union with his ward, whose immense estate lay in close contiguity to theirs. The two united would exceed, in extent and value, that of any other in the State-stretching away over many miles, and yield- ing an income which would afford a style of living of tile ;most princely magnificence. No thought crossed the worldly-minded father, that wealth is powerless to secure happiness. To those of the "earth carthy," it is the basis of their best hopes. He was intoxicated with deligllt at the enviable position which awaited his child, and now was the gloom which over- shadowed his morning of life dispelled by the glorious sun- light of happiness that beamed upon him! Soon as the genial breath of spring had unbound the icy fetters of the stern despot, Winter, from the brooks and streams, and the joyous tones which burst forth from the freed waters were re-echoed by the feathery songsters of the grove, when the timid violets ventured to open their blue eyes and again nestle lovingly upon the soft bosom of the EARLY ENGAG EMNTI. 49 earth, and the more self-reliant buttercup uplifted its golden cup to the sunlight and breeze, then the young stu- dents once more bent their elastic footsteps to their various loved resorts. The heart of youth is apt to overflow with joy at the return of spring--the beautiful prototype of that halcyon season of life; but -when the spirit of poesy is enshrined within its verdant depths, truly then does it burst forth with yet a fuller flow of gladness at the awakening into life of all spring's varied beauties. It was thus with Florence; her heart was a fountain of joy, whose glad waters gushed forth in coplious, brilliant, flashing showers of conversation upon the companions of her walk on the sweet spring evening, when, after an absence of several months, they revisited their!" rural studio." On drawing near to the old chestnut, she sprang fleetly forward, and sinking down at its base, threw her delighted glance upward to where its thousand tender, leafy lungs were expanding in the balmy breathings of the spring. "All hail!" she exclaimed in sportive. gayety, "thou king of a race of kings! Once more we renew our alle- giance to thee, duly impressed with thy beauty, and majesty, and power of conferring happiness on those who seek thy protection." The fine, mild eyes of the pastor expressed how deeply he sympathized in the general joy, and his heart re-echoed the songs of praise with which grateful Nature saluted her great Creator. He resumed his private course of tuition, which the inclemency of winter had suspended, and- again became the sun of Florence's intellectual world-illuming its dark page: 50-51[View Page 50-51]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 50-51 S0 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. places, and causing the rose to bloom in its desert wastes. Greatly to her delight, he also resumed his fine "readings" of her favorite poets. There are none who have had the opportunity, but must have felt how the "c best charms of" the author " improve" under the influence of eloquent reading. Most certainly, Florence appreciated with her whole soul the additional graces with which his deep-toned voice and perfect elocu- tion invested them, for never before had they thrilled her with such intensity of power and melody. Truly, it was a dangerous position for a maiden of six- teen to be placed in, whose heart was glowing with the fire of her own southern sun-drinking in with an enraptured spirit the rich strains of poetry which fell from the lips- even though it be of a parson-a country parson, as she had once scornfully termed him-it was one, with whom she, fastidious as -were her ideas of manly perfection, could now find no fault, save of the meek humility of a nature, which disregarded earthly honors, and sought only those despised by its votaries. The proud "young southern heiress," who was predestined to so brilliant a fate, daily thrown into the society of one --if between whose temperament and hers there were few points of resemblance, there was at least great congeniality of taste, and kindred genius. Guard well thy heart, Florence Delisle! with all its unbounded capacities for loving, well mayest thou fear the approach of that master-passion, whose breath must prove to thee deadly as the Sirocco's blast, or blissful as the breeze of Eden, More keenly than all thy loving sister- hood shalt thou feel f" the concentrated joy or woe, of blest or blighted love!" EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. / 51 It was equally dangerous for Mr. Neville to be exposed to the fascinating graces, personal and mental, of his young pupil. Should he-and he was but mortal man, though superior to many of the failings of humanity--should he aspire to the love of this maiden-he who should seek one of deep humility and christian gentleness as the fitting bride for an apostle of the "meek and lowly Jesus?" should he, forgetful of the barriers interpose! between them by the gods of this world-her wealth and his poverty--dare hope to win her love, how were those barriers to be removed? "Poor suffering race, said the pitying spirit, Dearly ye pay for your primal fall; Some flowers of Eden ye still inherit, But the trail of the serpent is over them all." Love is the queen floweret of Eden, and, in his expulsion, was not withheld from man; but it is now no longer a thornless one, as many torn and lacerated bosoms attest, in which it has rooted and bloomed. An intimate acquaintance, of more than ayear's dura- tion, had revealed to Florence all Mr. Neville's excellencies of character, and these, united with his commanding tal- ents, won (though at first reluctantly) her respect and ad- miration. Gradually all her former prejudices had given way, and she now regarded, not with contempt, but with a great degree of commiseration, one who seemed so uncon- scious of his lofty powers of mind, and she regretted sin- cerely their loss to the world, whose rightful possession she felt they were. The world delights to honor those only, who, in the heat and fury of battle, most deeply steep their hands in human gore-or the orator whose unrivaled eloquence is expended , , page: 52-53[View Page 52-53]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 52-53 62 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. on topics grateful to its ear. To these are erected the costly monument of bronze or marble ; but to those whose ener- gies are enlisted in preparing their fellow-men for that world where time is swallowed up in eternity, no earthly honors are decreed - no handsome monument is reared to them, challenging, with its high eulogiums, the admiration of mankind. Ah! no; but around the throne of grace, there, in majestic loveliness, will be found living monuments of their labors of love on earth. Once, after having listened to a discourse of more than usual ability (for there were few of his audience more attentive than she--not that the subject was precious to her soul, but for the luster of beauty his genius threw around it), Florence walked homeward silently thoughtful by the side of her much loved friend, more than ever impressed with the splendor of his talents, and the unrivaled position they might command, under favorable circum- stances. At length she spoke : "I am lost in amazement, Carrie, that one of your brother's superior talents, should be so de- void of ambition. Even if it be not 'native and to the manor born' of every heart, brilliant genius, of whatever character, is apt to give it birth. I cannot but regret, for his sake, and that of humanity in general, his present obscure location." "Miy brother has ambition," replied Caroline, with an enthusiasm quite unusual to one of so placid a temperament, "but it is a hgher, nobler, holier ambition than that which has for its object worldly honors. And are there not souls to be saved here, as well as in the more extensive fields of God's vineyard?" E ARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 53 "' Most certainly," replied Florence, laughingly; "but the future salvation of these poor simple souls might be secured with a tenth part of his talents. They had reached the gate which opened intol the semi- nary inclosure just .as. she uttered this ; her hands were lifted to unclose it, but the pastor, contrary to his usual custom, had accompanied Mrs. Ormon/d home, and now stepped forward to -anticipate the .act. -Her glance..became, more brilliant at the interposition of his, fine form,:and corn- plimentary words on his recent -masterly effort sprang to her lips; but they. were palsied as 'she met the stern, reproving glance :he east upon-her. She was petrified with astonishment at the sudden change, for but a moment pre- vious, and he stood before her in the sacred desk, his countenance radiant with holy emotion. 'He threw the gates wide apart, and the crowd of girls and teachers passed hurriedly through,.and there was no opportunity for an explanation. She sought the solitude of her chamber, and endeavored 1 by a elose and scrutinizing survey of her actions, to ascer- tain in what manner she had offended him. It was evident to her that he had overheard the conversation between Carrie and herself; but her heart was as yet but a compound of earthy particles, and she understood not the true nature of her offense. ... . She knew not how shockingly pain'ful to the disciples of Christ is the profanity of a jest founded on so sacred a subject as the " future salvation of souls " -that salvation which was purchased by the agonizing death of the cross-- secured but by the precious blood which crimsoned the heights of Calvary. page: 54-55[View Page 54-55]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 54-55 54 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. There seemed to her but one probable cause. He had, upon several occasions, checked her when eulogizing his talents, by very decided manifestations, that the theme was not a pleasant one to him, and it now occurred to her that his present displeasure originated in his dislike to her re- marks to Carrie, which he had inadvertently overheard. Notwithstanding she was mortified and distressed at having given him the slightest cause of offense, her admiration of him reached a point far beyond that which it had ever before attained. "How superior, indeed, must that nature be," thought she, "' which can resist the charms of personal laudation- a weakness rarely overcome by those of the greatest strength of character." She sat for some time, lost in deep thought, the expres- sion of her countenance indicating that they were not ex- actly i' couleur du rose "-the native hue of a maiden's rev- eries. At length, she roused from her abstraction, and joined her classmates on the portico, and endeavored, by lively conversation, to overcome her depression of spirits; but the effort was unavailing. She went forth into the grove, and sat down upon the soft, green turf. In times gone by, the sweet, soothing influences of nature were all- powerful to calm every disquietude of mind; but not now were they of any avail -not even the fascinating pages of a favorite author, to which she turned as a " dernier re- sort," "could a charm impart to soothe" her perturbed feelings. When the bell tolled the hour of the vesper service, Flo- rence hastened with a sense of relief toward the seminary; but on reaching the door, she paused suddenly--not again EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 55 dared she encounter a glance, such as that which even yet pierced as a barbed arrow in her bosom. She turned away, and leaned heavily against a column of the portico. As the sweet evening- hymn came issuing through the opened windows, and the voice of the pastor pronouncing the nightly benediction, in tones deep, low, and, it seemed to her, so sad, withal--bitter and passionate tears fell in torrents over her cheeks. At length there was a footstep on the portico, and look- ing up, she beheld the young pastor passing onward to the parlor. With characteristic impetuosity, she sprang to his side, and clasping her hands convulsively on his arm, she murmured, in earnest and pleading tones, "Forgive me." Mr. Neville gazed upon her for a moment in compassion- ate tenderness- then pointing upward, with solemn em- phasis, replied, "( Noc me-but Him have you offended." There were voices and the sound of coming footsteps, and Florence hastened away to hide her agitation from her young friends who were approaching. She was in a maze of perplexity as to his meaning. Although he had dis- claimed being offended, still she could not banish the thought that he was, and his reproachful glance haunted her distractingly. Her dreams, which had hitherto known no sorrow, were now gloomy, disturbed, and frequently broken-but through the long watches of that restless night, it was the conscious- ness of his displeasure, not that of the offended Majesty above, that sent the pang through her heart. Several days passed--restless, unhappy days to Flor ence; for her spirits, despite her strenuous efforts top the page: 56-57[View Page 56-57]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 56-57 contrary, were disturbed and agitated at the thought of the pastor's displeasure. He was detained from his daily visits to the seminary, by the illness of one of his parishioners. The man was sick, "even unto death," and the pastor rarely left his dying couch. Deprived of all natural friends, he was dependent upon the kindness of aliens from his blood. Under such circumstances, the young pastor became equally a physical and spiritual comforter--bathing the fevered brow and burning hands-holding the cooling draught to the parched lips, and breathing to the tortured soul, hope in a Savior's dying love. He left not until the spirit d flown, and the dust was consigned to the dust from whence it sprang. It was the evening of the fourth day since his absence, and Florence sat alone in the "rural studio," poring over the accustomed task, with a partially distracted attention. Her eyes frequently wandered along the pathway which led to it, as though she expected the coming of some one. She had heard the church-bell tolling the funeral knell of the departed soul, and faintly hoped that the pastor would pause at the seminary on his return from the solemn service, and as was his usual custom, at that hour, seek her in the grove. At length her wandering glances were rewarded, by the approach of the expected visitor. She arose to receive him with a timidity and trepidation of manner, quite surprising in the proud, spoiled, idolized beauty, who, in general, regard- ed all honored, whose acquaintance she acknowledged. With a timid, doubtful glance, her eyes were raised to his; there was no sternness in their expression now, and the cloud which had rested on her spirits since the pre- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 57 ceding Sabbath, passed away, swift as the lightning's flash, before his sweet, yet melancholy smile. She advanced to meet him, and as he clasped the hand she extended in her pleasure at seeing him, all her wild. gayety of spirits was restored. "I am so happy to see you," she exclaimed. "My les- sons have been but half-learned during your absence, and I am, consequently, in high disgrace with Miss Johnson, However, I am not so selfish as to rejoice at your return, solely on that account, though well aware that through your instrumentality I shall again be able to ingratiate my- self in the good graces of that most erudite lady. But my lessons are insufferably dull without you; and our " studio" is lonely, indeed, when you are gone." The warmth of her welcome sank deeply into the pas- tor's heart, but the solemn scenes he had just witnessed, prevented his partaking of her gayety. He led her to a seat on the upturned roots of the tree, and as he sat beside her, conversed long, solemnly and ear- nestly, on the nature and magnitude of her offense of the previous Sabbath; and of the importance of the subject, which she evidently regarded in so trivial a manner. This precious seed did not at once spring up, yet it fell not in a wholly barren soil-long years afterward it was des- tined to yield a glorious harvest. Florence returned that evening-her heart throbbing with a rapidly accelerated motion. A light, all strange and new, but bright, joyous and beautiful, streamed through its portals, irradiating its inmost recesses, and was warmly re- flected from the depths of her dark eyes. Again she was restored to his favor-again he had smiled page: 58-59[View Page 58-59]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 58-59 CX/ -. ---- -- ----- 58 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. upon her, that peculiarly winning smile, whose power she had felt even in the period of her greatest dislike to him; and she was as happy, far happier, than the birds whose uproarious joy filled the forests. It was the first time she freely acknowledged his power over her; but now, she felt that his approbation was by far too dear to her peace of mind, to be lightly lost; and here, had Florence been endowed with oracular powers, might she have discovered the first landmark of an affection, which would resist all time's mutations. Henceforth she endeavored to mould every thought, feeling, taste and action in accordance with his. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 59 CHAPTER V. I saw two beings in the hues of youth Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill. These two, a maiden and a youth, were there, Gazing-the one on all that was beneath, Fair as herself--but the boy gazed on her. He had no breath nor being, but in hers: But she in these fond feelings had no share. To her he was Even as a brother-but no more: 'twas much, For brotherless she was, save in the name Her infant friendship had bestowed on him, Herself the solitary scion left of a time-honored race. BYRON'S Dream. They temper love and books together. SWIFT. All my nature changed-his being Seemed the only source of mine- Fond heart, hadst thou no foreseeing, Thy sad future to divine? LDON. IN the vernal months that succeeded, free and unre- stricted intercourse, in their sylvan retreat, tended to the maturity of that passion whose first unfoldings we have seen, until every fiber of Florence's being thrilled beneath its giant sway. Former joys were- as naught in comparison with the intensity of happiness-the delirium of pleasure, in which her soul luxuriated. Every object unconnected with it, was submerged in Lethb,'s waves. The home of her childhood-her idolizing father-the tender brother of her youth, but devoted lover of her girlhood, all were for- gotten in the new existence that had dawned upon her. The revulsion in her feelings had been truly wondrous! page: 60-61[View Page 60-61]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 60-61 60 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. At first she had regarded the pastor with ill-concealed feelings of dislike-almost abhorrence; then contempt suc- ceeded-a contempt which knew no bounds, because of his having flung away brilliant talents upon a worthless and despised profession, instead of being lifted up by them, as upon " eagles' wings," to the lofty places of earth; then, despite her prejudices, there was a constantly increasing respect, as the symmetrical proportions of his character became more and better known, until at length, by slow degrees, it stood forth before her unclouded vision in the undimmed luster of its native excellency, rendered even yet more dazzling by the absence of that very ambition for which it was once despised, and she bowed before it in deepest adoration. He presented the rare anomaly, one conscious of giant powers, yet flinging aside with sublime indifference, the laurel wreath that fain would have bound his brow. Would that we might linger, Florence, on this the most brilliant page of thy young life! Above thee are skies roseate with the hues of love; beneath and around thee are flowers of more than tropic beauty, and strains of JEolian sweetness fill thy soul with music; but Time-relentless Time, surges onward, and none may stay his course. Contrary to the popular opinion on the subject, the birth of this new passion did not retard the onward progress in her studies. So far from it, it was an all-powerful incentive to further advancement; for, as he stood peerless above all others, even so must she exert herself to attain a like supremacy over her sex; and love, mingling with the draught, sweetened it, until it became like unto ambrosial nectar. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 61 To be sure, it was a science not found in Mrs. Ormond's catalogue, and of which the rest of us remained in total ignorance during her guardianship over us, and of which she would have been horrified at the idea of being taught in her institution; but it was most certain that in this, as in all others, Florence made rapid advancement. Florence was now in the dawn of womanhood, and from the period when she had ceased to be an invalid, the attempt to add to her beauty would have seemed vain as that of " painting the lily :" but there is an artist, whose magic touch almost transforms deformity itself-shedding a softening and beautifying luster over the most uncouth features, and he, with daring hand, had retouched those faultless features, and perfected the coup-d'oeil. Hers was a most living, thrilling beauty! And there was one, (strange that no thought of him crossed her memory with a pang!) who, could his glance have pierced the intervening space between them, and beheld those meetings in the grove-the brilliant smile with which she welcomed the pastor to her presence-her rap- turous attention to his slightest tone-have seen them seated side by side bending over the same volume, his heart had been wrung at scenes so fraught with destruction to his future happiness--he, who was disposed to regard with a jealous eye, the faintest smile, or most trivial atten- tion, bestowed by his idol on another. And here was cause for the most violent alarm-the most deep-seated agony; for to one skilled in the science of love, there was no mistaking Florence's glance-it spoke volumes; telling of a passion deep, fervid and abiding as his own, but oh misery! it rested on another, and not upon him. And he page: 62-63[View Page 62-63]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 62-63 62 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. who had all unconsciously stepped between him and hap- piness, and caused the heart bound to his by adamantine ties to swerve from its allegiance, was a rival not to be despised-albeit his lowly position in life. But the youth was traveling in far distant lands, in bliss- ful ignorance that she, so long and passionately beloved, was all forgetful of their youthful vows, and of the " sweet siren song" of love, he had breathed into her virgin soul. With rapid pace he journeyed on, seeking only to pass the weary probation, until they should be reunited-gazing upon the lovely scenes of that Arcadian land-upon the majestic ruins eloquent of the grandeur and glory of a buried age, with a cold, abstracted glance; she was not there to be charmed by them, therefore they were to him as the sterile waste, in which there is no beauty or attrac- tion. If for a moment his regard was fixed upon the dark- eyed maidens of those sunny skies, whose beauty the prince of poets tells us " even a cynic must avow," it was but to contrast them with that of the loved image, resting in its golden case, upon his bosom, to prove how far it ex- celled all others. All ties of kindredship having been severed at a very ten- der age--Henry Souie, on becoming domesticated in Mr. De Lisle's family, naturally clung with a most filial affection to him, who was indeed a father unto him. As the ward of her father he lad been reared, almost from her very infancy, with Florence; and his regard for hier, the sole companion of his youth, assumed a far more tender and deeper tone, than that for their mutual father, and through- out the progressive stages of life, from youth to manhood, it had grown with his growth-strengthening with his EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 63 strength, until his existence had become merged into hers- life was a blessing only that she lived.. When Florence's continued ill health demanded her removal north, and preparations for it were accordingly being made, it seemed to him as though the sun were about to be stricken from his heavens, and he, encompassed with darkness-deep, unfathomable darkness. His terrible depression of spirits-his violent reluctance to a separation from her was the source of extreme pain to Florence, and it was as the sweet comforter of-his sorrows thaf she became almost unconsciously engaged to him. They were standing on the balcony the evening before she left home, her hands clasped convulsively within his- and he, in strong and anguished terms, mourned the neces- : sity which separated them. A deeper sense of loneliness and isolation oppressed him, he said, than when in his child- hood they told him his father and last earthly friend was lost evermore to him. Florence burst into a wild flood of tears, and as in all the troubles of her childhood she had done, buried her face in his bosom, murmuring, "But I will return again, Harry, and "Then we will part no more on earth, dearest; say will it not be so, my Florence?" He bent over her with an expression in which the varied passions of love, despair, hope and fear were confusedly blended. Without a mo- ment's hesitancy she replied, "Yes, oh! yes, a short time and I will return to you, never to part from you more. Whom have I to love but you and my father? or where could I find a place so dear as this, the home of our childhood? " page: 64-65[View Page 64-65]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 64-65 " EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. The sudden clearing of his countenance was as the burst- : inc forth of the glorious god of day from the dark and : murky clouds which threatened to shut out his brightness forever; and clasping her long and rapturously to his bosom, he imprinted upon her brow the first kiss of love, and breathed into her ear its burning vows. r Thrice happy was Florence in being able to remove the load of anguish from his breast; nor thought she of the possi- bility that the means used to effect it, might cause it to recoil, all crushingly, upon her own warm, generous heart. She sought only to restore the light of happiness to one whose s multitudinous acts of kindness had placed her under deep and lasting obligations. Now on the eve of a first separa- tion, a host of memories connected with him came rushing over her-his gentleness and forbearance in the fretfulness of her invalid childhood--his efforts to amuse her, and lull her into forgetfulness of pain-his tender affection, mani- fested in every word and act; all came vividly to her and called forth her most earnest gratitude. One so younL as she could have but very imperfect con- ceptions of the nature and requirements of the vow thus raslily takeln, a vow regarded in the sight of God and man as second only in sacredness to the nuptial one. Bereft of a mother, there was none to warn her of the fearful sacri- fice of happiness its fulfillment might occasion, or to ex-- plain how all incapable a maiden of fifteen was to decide a point of which the whole future was the stake. She did not do as one might, perhaps, who had num- bered more years, or been reared with less tenderness, con- trast her affection with the ardent, fervent character of that just professed for her, and learn thereby that it was com- ,I EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 65 paratively but as the " small dust in the balance." The voice of adulation had ever sounded in her ear, and a homage been accorded her, unsurpassed by Eastern devo- teeism, until devotion seemed to her but a due. Therefore she received Henry's profession of regard as that to which she was justly entitled; ignorant meanwhile, of her inability to respond to it as fervently as it demanded. If the sunshine of love in which she had ever dwelt, had not incrusted her heart with selfishness, it had destroyed, in a measure, that fine appreciation for the esteem of others, which those born under less genial skies possess; and had not another crossed her path, her feelings for him would have undergone no change. "He was even as a brother-but no more." Though of a nature truly noble and excellent, his intellect was of a mediocre quality, and it was not virtues alone, which could command the love of one so loftily aspiring as she. Even in their childhood she had felt the dearth, the void, the lack of something in him, she knew not what, which prevented the ; entire and perfect harmonizing of her spirit with his. It was genius, combined with manly virtues, which could alone call forth the highest homage of such a heart-could alone wake all its-slumbering chords into melody and life. Vows so thoughtlessly spoken, and at an age so early in the development of that kind of heart-knowledge to which they had reference, had long since passed from her me- mory; and she would have been petrified with astonish- ment, to have known of the splendid superstructure of happiness, and worldly grandeur, her lover and father were rearing in anticipation on so frail a foundation. Neither had correspondence kept the memory of his i 6 page: 66-67[View Page 66-67]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 66-67 " EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. love, and the tie that bound them, fresh and green in her soul; for her father, guarding against every cause which would tend to unfit her for the arduous duties before her, had interdicted it. He had witnessed with peculiar satisfaction, the tender- ness of their parting, and shortsighted as was the fabled matron, he imagined his child had undergone an immersion which would render her forever invulnerable to any wandering or stray shaft of Cupid's. But had it even been otherwise, he would have seen no peril in her present situation. It would have been impossible for him to con- ceive that the proud and haughty scion, of his proud, haughty, and ambitious race-she, who had been taught to regard wealth and standing in society, as life's great desideratum, would regard other than as an insult, a prof- fered alliance with an obscure and indigent minister. But not a particle had the heart of Florence Delisle abated of its pride-on the contrary, it swelled with an augmented force, since having found an object so pre-emi- nently worthy of its adoration. Oh! Love, Love! thou coverest with thy rosy mantle, all defects and deformitics-even vice too frequently shields its "' frightful mien" within thy graceful folds. Thou art the true Magician whose alchemy transmutes all metals into gold. Thou art a magician too, of all time; for thy potent spells began even in creation's dawn, and man in all succeeding generations has bowed to their might. In thy two-fold capacity of conferring "bliss immeasur- able," or "woe unutterable," on all who own thy sway, thou, above all the passions of the human soul, art most to be feared! How beautiful thou art, when thy course is J 'EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 67 edged with the full blown flower and graceful bud--whn thou bearest upon thy bosom the odorous breeze, and the' melody of joy goes up from out thy crystal depths. How drear thou art, when those sparkling wavelets stagnate into the slimy pool, in which the noisome reptile nurtures its hateful brood, and thy pestilential breath sweeps through the poisonous shrub, and deadly nightshade of thy borders. Florence had clambered up a dizzy height, and basking in the full meridian splendor of Love's rays, saw not the precipice on which she stood-the betrothed bride of one, yet loving with a deathless devotion, another! Long ere she was cognizant of the fact, her proud heart had passed from her control, and he, who was once the object of its scorn and derision, was become the master spirit of its destiny. \. page: 68-69[View Page 68-69]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 68-69 68 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. CHAPTER VI. Love's hoary flame forever burneth; From heaven it came, to heaven returneth; Too oft on earth a troubled guest, At times deceived, at times opprest, It here is tried and purified, Then hath in heaven its perfect rest. SOUTIrY. THE second year of Florence's residence in S-- vale, had drawn to a close. Her father was prevented paying his promised annual visit, by a long and severe attack of illness; and the still precarious state of his health rendered it uncertain whether he durst leave home through the summer. A year before, and the disappointment would have been most grievous-but now Florence congratulated herself on her extreme composure and resignation to it. Mrs. Ormond yielded to our earnest solicitations that the approaching anniversary of her birth should be kept as a gala-day-devoted entirely to recreation and mirth; and that the evening should terminate with a reunion in her j drawing-rooms, of the " upper-tendom" of her household, and the few inhabitants of the valley, with whom her arduous vocation permitted her to exchange the courtesies of society. Guests from the city also, were expected-the brothers and cousins, male and female of her present pupils who resided there; and a number of her former pupils, would also avail themselves of the opportunity to revisit their old academic halls. In order that instruction might be blended with amuse- ; , EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 69 ement, we were all directed, for the evening's entertainments to select from the world of literature, some celebrated char- acter to personate-or to represent an inhabitant of'a foreign land-to dress in the exact costume of the times and country, and to inform ourselves according to the character personated, with the most striking points of history, the government, manners, customs, scenery, and society. Elevated and instructive topics of conversation would thus be afforded; and the mass of knowledge requi- site to enable each to enact 'her part, would prove a valu- able acquisition. :': As a matter of course, she whose delineation was most perfect-who could invest the character of her adoption with the greatest charms, would most largely contribute to the amusement of the evening. "Have you decided upon the character you will assume, Miss De Lisle?" said Eleanora Howard, some few weeks pre- vious to the soiree. She was one of the small number, whom Florence's recent efforts to be gracious to, had not overcome the remembrance of her early hauteur and over- bearance. "I have not," was the laconic reply. "Indeed! you amaze me! Ipresumed Agrippina, whose hauteur and pride you so much affect, would have fur- nished you at once with a model." "Arid you, doubtless," said Florence, her eyes flashing with indignant scorn at this unanticipated sarcasm, "you would be willing to personate the odious Livia, were you thereby enabled to debase me to the dust as she, her wretched victim." This cutting retort had scarce passed her lips, ere the :m page: 70-71[View Page 70-71]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 70-71 70 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. thought of the pastor's condemnation of it brought terroi to her; and turning round suddenly, she expected to en- counter a glance, stern and reproachful as that which had once sent such a chill upon her heart. He was not there, however, and the sense of relief overcame her recent indignation. It was not in the dignified robes of the Roman ma- tron that Florence appeared at Mrs. Ormond's levee, but in the more graceful style of modern Italy. That she looked surpassingly lovely, the scowl of envy that lowered on the brow of her who had previously taunted her, as well as the undisguised admiration of her friends, testified. Her costume was as beautiful as her own exquisite taste and unlimited means could make it, and was arranged with an elaborate care and elegance, as though it were to meet the eyes of the refined critics of Almack's-but there was one whose gaze must rest upon it, before whom, theirs shrank into insignificance. He had never seen her in other than the simple toilet of a school-girl ; but that night she would appear before him, her superior charms heightened by the adventitious aid of dress, " and test," said she, with a half scornful smile, "the falsity of that oft-quoted motto of Thomson's : 'Beauty, when unadorned, 's adorned the most."' There lingered in her bosom a kind of Semiramis wish- a wish, in order that the pastor might witness the full power of her fascinations, to reign the acknowledged Queen of the Festival. Her wish was gratified-her triumph complete-her un- surpassed powers of pleasing, and magnificent beauty, effected the desired object. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 71 Much of her triumph was und/btedly owing to the admirable adaptation of her style o beauty to the character she represented. As she stood hing on the harp, sing- ing with an accent as pure as a native's, one of Italia's sweetest melodies, her dark eyes flashing with the pleasur- able emotions of the occasion-her cheeks dyed with the warmest and richest of hues-she seemed the very incar- nation of the d ghters of those cloudless skies. The pastorlstood at a remote distance from her; yet were interve ing sights and sounds lost to him-his visual and auditory organs were concentered on the radiant song- stress. "Mr. Neville seems completely spell-bound by Miss De Lisle's fascinations," said a laughing voice near him, and the sound of his name recalled his attention. "Nor can one be surprised at it-there are few who can resist their power! I have often thought of their resemblance to those of the rattlesnake once within their influence, no struggle can free one-they are bound, irresistibly bound." "Miss De Lisle would certainly feel very highly compli- mented by your simile," replied Eleanora Howard, in her usual tone of irony. The splendid triumph of Florence had kindled into a fresher glow the feelings of envy and hatred which burned in her bosom; but by far the most aggrava- ting circumstance of the evening was her own brother's complete abandonment to the charms of the beautiful southerner-he had scarce left her side since the moment of his introduction. "I am surprised," she continued, "that you should think one of Mr. Neville's superior insight of character, page: 72-73[View Page 72-73]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 72-73 72 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. could become infatuated with so shallow a compound of pride, arrogance and presumption." "A nd yet with all due deference to those remarkable powers, he is, nevertheless, most hopelessly in love with her, whom you are pleased to term a 'compound of arro- gance and presumption,'" said Helen Bourne; "and this is so apparent, that all, not willfully blind, must see it." "Impossible! It is not in his nature to love such a creature. A beautiful wife, truly, she would make for a minister of the gospel-she who admits of no superiors, and few equals-she would spurn from her presence the humble individuals who form so large a portion of his society." The pastor hastened from his locality near them-unwil- ling to be a further listener to a conversation evidently not for his ear. Enough had been uttered, however, to remove the fast gathering films that obscured his mental vision; and so ruthlessly had they been torn away, that drops of bitter agony started forth from the wounds. He stepped forth into the night's solitude to recover his lost self-possession, and the darkness hid a counte- nance which was, of a verity, "a tablet of unutterable thoughts." With a perturbed mind he paced back and forth the portico. At length a sudden burst of merriment within the gay and brilliant apartments, reminded him that this was neither the time nor place for the minute and searching investigation into the state of his feelings, which recent developments rendered necessary. Passing his hands heavily over his face, as though to drive from it the dark EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 73 clouds that crushed out its sunshine, with a forced smile, he re-entered the rooms. He did not again seek Florence's side; but she was con- stantly flitting before him as a vision of light, and her sparkling wit and lively repartee were ringing in his ears; and each moment deepened his conviction of her powerful ascendency over him. That night the pastor sat alone in his studio far past its noon. The shaded rays of the lamp fell upon a brow cor- rugated into deep furrows by intense and painful thought. With a strong hand he forced the probe into the profoundest depths of his soul, and learned with deep humiliation and contrition of spirit that his heart had been worshiping all too fervently at an earthly, shrine, and had wandered far away from Him, to whom its deepest reverence was due. "How powerful the narcotic which has steeped my senses. The pleasure with which I sought her society and received her greetings, or listened to her chidings at my delays, should have aroused me to a sense of my danger; but more than all, when I found her presence attending me whithersoever I went-mingling in my dreams-aye," con- tinued he, with a deep sigh, " even forcing itself amid my prayers, I should have been warned of my peril." The young pastor bowed his form in earnest supplication, that the Divine spirit of Peace might step forth upon the troubled waters of his soul and command them " to be till," and his brow gradually resumed to its usual calmness and placidity and sleep infolded him in its gentle embrace. Deep as were his self-upbraidings for his supposed par- tial apostasy, the "love for the creature," had not sup. planted that "for the Creator,"-but mingling with it, 7 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 74-75 74 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. strengthened the ties, and drew him yet nearer to his heavenly Master. And this is no anomaly, since "Lov is the word, the king of words carved on Jehovah's heart;" and that which irradiates the gloom of this world of sin, is but the far-off reflection of that whose emanation is from a source divine. Duty demanded immediate efforts to overcome his unfor- tunate passion; or at least to reduce its ardor to that with which a brother might regard a sister-or a pastor a tender lamb of his flock. To effect this, future avoidance of her society seemed the most certain means. It was not that the pastor regarded Florence as unworthy the first place in his earthly affections, for the clouds that mingled with her reflection in his soul, were light and fleeting-or that the bitter invectives he had heard coupled with her name, had aught of power to prejudice him against her; in them he recognized the bubblings of the vile spirit of envy., Indeed, in the present state of his feelings he would have thought the heart most exacting which would demand greater perfection of its idol; for Florence was a much more gentle and better being in his presence, than when removed from it. Though she had sought to remodel her character, there still existed many gross imperfections of which he was unaware; for when with him there were no temptations to test her good resolu- tions;. but an atmosphere of holiness surrounded him, which subdued, with a soft, insensible control, all evil passions-the profane jests of those, hardened by years of sin, were hushed in his presence-the angered brow was smoothed at his approach-and fierce contentions ceased. He felt that his lowly home was all unsuited to one bred I, EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 75 in wealth's aristocratic halls; for could he even hope to secure a return of his affection, there was no possibility that one thus reared would be content with the plain and simple style of living which he alone had to offer. Thou Mammon! thou who wast once a god of the Syrians, how now art thou become a universal one! It was he who interposed barriers to their union; and the pastor bowed in resignation to his destiny. -He had witnessed with an eye of love the fair unfolding of that glorious mind-he had inhaled the fragrance of the opening flower; but another would enjoy the wealth of its perfect bloom. Henceforth the pleasant ministrations to her mental and moral wants must cease, save in a general form-and the sigh, wrung from his suffering spirit, com- mingled, all discordantly, with nature's tones of joy which went breathing up from plant, and tree, and La Belle Riviere on that balmy summer's-evening. It was the hour he usually spent in their " studio"-yet the pastor sat alone within his vine-wreathed portico-his footsteps stayed by the firm conviction of duty. Contrary to the order of nature, for the year had passed its meridian and was fast declining, the days, to one indi- vidual in the vely vale of S--, seemed to have length- ened-even into those of an Icelandic summer. The pastor struggle to subdue his unfortunate attachment; but there were times when he grew faint, and the combat seemed a hopeless one. Though there had been a termination to his private instructions he could not at all times avoid Florence, with- out positive rudeness-a thing utterly inconsistent with his nature-for his was that native politeness, indigenous to page: 76-77[View Page 76-77]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 76-77 76 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. the soul in which the Christian graces flourish. Especially at the evening's benediction they were together; and though no words were spoken between them, he felt that she was near-and there was happiness in the thought. A deeper melancholy enshrouded him as the hours drew near which hle had been accustomed to pass with her. As drear the contrast of the present ones, as between "those golden hours on angel wings" that had flown o'er the Scot- tish bard (afterward so sweetly mourned by him) and the death-darkened days that succeeded them. It was at such an hour, and from a reverie of unusual gloom, that he aroused himself, and in a firm, decided tone, exclaimed: "This must not be-I will no longer suc- cumb to such weakness. It unfits me for every duty." Strong in this wise determination, he went forth to visit an aged female parishioner, who was lying very low of a fever. The pathway led through a wilderness of natural beauty, and singularly enough it was that so ardent a- lover of Nature saw not its charms. Had it been covered with im- penetrable darkness they could not have been more effectu- ally lost to the pastor. Once only he paused in his route to gaze around-it was at the cascade-and in the tumultu- ous agitation of its waters he saw a close similitude to that (despite all efforts) of his own bosom. There were flowers lying near its margin-fresh as thourgh recently plucked from the parent stem. He stooped to pick them up, and the gloomy current of his thoughts was somewhat changed. As he pursued his course, with eyes bent to the greensward, from time to time he descried a fugitive bud, or full-blown flower in the pathway. A EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. " voice too arrested his footsteps-a voice whose sweetly- familiar tones thrilled through his being; and looking up, he beheld Florence at a short distance from him. There were several large stones, all cushioned over with a growth of dark, richly-colored moss, lying near the stream, and from a rude resemblance had been fancifully termed the " arm-chair." This had always been a favorite resort of the pastor's, for here the incomparable scenery of the valley was seen to its greatest advantage. Florence was seated here, alone-her lap filled with flowers, which with rapid fingers she was twining into a wreath. Pleasant thoughts were flitting over her blooming face, like butterflies over beds of roses. "There are some," said she, her thoughts unconsciously weaving themselves into speech, "who say, that one flower is coarse-another common-and that there is no beauty in a third. But to me all flowers are beautiful-aye, so very beautiful ;" and she paused in her work to gaze rapturously upon their glowing petals-" how far, far beyond the rivalry of human skill." Sentiments so congenial found a deep and fervent re- sponse in the pastor's breast; it was as though she were- giving utterance to his own thoughts. He paused irresolutely-inclination prompted him to hasten to her side, and duty imperatively forbade it; yet there seemed no possibility of his being able to retrace his steps down the hillside without attracting her attention, and consequently awakening her curiosity to ascertain the cause of so singular a proceeding. There seemed no course left but to continue onward-pausing briefly to page: 78-79[View Page 78-79]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 78-79 78 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. exchange the commonplace congratulations, and then to pass on to the widow's cottage. \ Deeply absorbed in her own delicious thoughts' and beautiful- employment, he stood by her side ere she was aware of his approach. The flowers were dashed to the earth, as she arose with an exclamation of joyful surprise at his unexpected appearance. The very consciousness of being alone with her caused a degree of embarrassment never before experienced in her society; for since their last interview of that kind, he had partaken of the fruit of the wondrously gifted tree, and his eyes were now opened to the true nature of his senti- ments for her. Even thought seemed to desert him-he knew not how to address her. Fortunately his glance rested on the fallen flowers, and they afforded a topic with .- which to relieve the embarrassing silence. Pointing to them he said: See, you are crushing your flowers beneath your feet; a sacrilege of which a moment since I thought it impossible for you to be guilty, so rap- turously enthusiastic were you in their praise. The last flowers of Summer;" said he, restoring them to her, "how gorgeously beautiful!" "Burning with kisses just caught from the sun," said Florence, finishing his eulogy upon them. "And you too, it seems, have been flower gathering. But where did you find your flowers? I thought I had rifled the high- ways and byways of all their treasures." "I have been but a gleaner in your path; picking up those lost from your abundance." EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 79 "Then," said she, her sweet ringing laugh accompany- ing the joyous tones of the streamlet down into the vale; "I have literally strewn your pathway with flowers; notfigu- ratively so, I can scarce hope; or why have your visits to our 'studio' been discontinued? Were you not a self-con- stituted Mentor? How shameful, then, of you to desert me, after having taught me the value of your services." ' Florence," said he, so gravely, that she started in sur- prise; "my instructions were continued long after you ceased to require them. Your own devotion to study; and strong, clear intellect will render them unnecessary for the future. But how came you here?" said he, abruptly, as if shrinking from further interrogations on the subject-"I supposed you were in your' rural studio,' as you somewhat poetically term it." "No, no; I too have deserted it. Carrie's attention, as you are aware, has been so much given to Mrs. Gray, since her-illness, that she has been unable to join me there; and deprived of your presence and hers, it seemed lonely and drear as a qharnel-house. This evening she was as usual going to visit her charge) and I, pining like a caged bird, to roam over these hills, prevailed on Mrs. Ormond to let me accompany her to assist in conveying some necessaries to the aged invalid." "And why did you falter in your errand of merey ;" said he, fixing upon her a glance so penetrating that her eye fell beneath it." "My thoughts were so little in consonance with a sick room, I forbore to intrude upon it. Not that I have not sympathy for the sufferer, but I am so ignorant of the care an invalid requires, that I feel as though my awkward efforts a, ' . I page: 80-81[View Page 80-81]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 80-81 80 - EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. to contribute to her comfort would but add to her pain. f Beside," she continued, feeling that her excuses were friv- olous, and unsatisfactory to him, "my health is so precious to my father, I dare not expose it to any contagion-such was his parting injunction. " With a strong effort he forced back the sigh upon his heart. "Not," thought he, mournfully, "from the couch of languishing must a pastor's bride shrink, even though contagion lurks in its surrounding atmosphere." He was pained-so deeply pained, that not even when Carrie, in the evening, informed him that through the generous lib- erality of Florence, she had procured a nurse for the in- valid, skilled in ministrations to the sick, did it abate; for it was an evidence of how all unsuited was she, upon whom he had lavished the whole wealth of his affections, to be his bride. Although his disapprobation was not expressed, Florence perceived it, and felt it keenly. She turned her head proudly away from him, to conceal the tears which filled her eyes, wondering why he should be offended at her, for so slight a dereliction of duty. However, it was only for a moment that her anger could swell against him. She was by far too happy at being again with him, to give way to such feelings long-and so often had her own sunshiny spirit chased away the melan- choly that frequently mingled with his, that she now turned and resumed the conversation in her own gay manner, and thus sought to remove his displeasure-and soon the clouds were driven off, and he was again as happy as in hours gone by-for when was ever man proof against the smiles of her he loves? M EARLY ENEAGEMENTS. 81 "I have been making a coronet for Carrie," said she holding up the wreath of flowers, "and intended to en- - throne her upon this rock as the Queen of the Wild wood. But this is not a becoming wreath for her-only the pure, starry jessamine, or the white moss rose-bud, or the more beautiful orange-flowers of my own sunny home, should encircle her brow of purity. "Yes," he replied, "these gorgeous flowers best accord with your glowing complexion," and he wound the wreath amid her glossy tresses. "Now, how shall I know if it be becoming or not?" She leaned over the streamlet, saying, "the crystal element, I have been told, is the Indian maiden's mirror. Aye, woman, whether savage or civilized, has an intuitive know- ledge of ascertaining her own personal charms. But the surface of the stream is so broken it does not answer the purpose. I shall be compelled to abide by your decision," and she lifted her brilliant face to his admiring glance. He had looked upon the beautiful profile, with its long, silken lashes, sweeping the crimson cheek; but when the full splendor of the face was brought suddenly to his gaze, enhanced by the gorgeous wreath that bound her brow, but more particularly by a certain mysterious influence within, which gave to her eye a peculiar fascination, and to her complexion an increased richness, he started in sur- prise. Never before had he seen her to so great an advan- tage. "Beautiful!" burst spontaneously from his lips. .He recovered himself, and said with subdued enthusiasm,- ' "Florence, you have heard of the whited sepulcher, so beautiful and pure in its outward appearance, yet contain- page: 82-83[View Page 82-83]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 82-83 82 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. ing death and deformity within-O may you never reserm- ble it. Crush down the spirit of vanity which would cause you to exult in your beauty, and as the casket is indeed so perfect, see thou that the jewel it contains is worthy of it." - They sat long upon the rock-, at times conversing, then again relapsing into silence--the silence of hearts too full for utterance; and he who had gone forth strong in virtu- Ii ous resolves, was again subdued by the smiles of a maiden of seventeen-alive only to the bliss of the present moment, ^ the past and the future were alike unheeded. - The evening sun, as though sympathizing with the hap- ; piness of these young' hearts, traveled with a tardy pace, adown the western sky, to his nightly couch, around which golden and purple clouds hung curtain-like. The music of the cascade was borne up to them on the evening breeze, and the valley with its winding stream, looked wondrously beautiful in the mellow light. La Belle Ohio, its western ; - boundary, seemed a belt of molten silver. Beneath them, in deep repose lay the village, and far away in the distance ; the turrets of the seminary arose from out their forest- shield. It was an hour to which memory, in after years, reverted with a sigh.: "AMy ideas of heaven," suddenly exclaimed Florence, : turning from the enchanting tableaux, "( are those of the : Mussulman. My imagination pictures a place of glorious e sunshine, gushing fountains, cooling streams, majestic for- ests, beds of roses, and melodious--- "i "Ah! brother, are you beguiling Florence's loneli- ness?" said Carrie, coming up behind them, and laying her 4 hand gently upon his arm. "I imagined I should find her EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 83 as woe-begone as Selkirk in his solitude; but I presume she was not very impatient at my delay. I have been visiting Mrs. Gray," continued she, "and -am happy to be able to tell you the crisis of the disease is passed, and she is lying very comfortably now. The physician thinks her recovery hopeful." "I rejoice to hear of an abatement in her sufferings, for they were truly very great. I had started thither myself, butf-" The sentence remained unfinished; not once had he thought of the object for which he had set out, since Flo- rence so unexpectedly appeared before him. "Come," said Carrie, " do you not see the sun is set- ting? we must hasten our steps, or the evening service will be delayed." With a light and graceful step, she sped down the hill- side, nor paused till she reached the cascade's foaming basin. Dipping her hands into it, she lifted up handsfull of the cool water to her lips. It was so pure and sweet, she never passed without cooling her thirst. The pastor and Florence pursued their course with a slower pace; but though the tones of her loved voice were ringing in his ears like the melody of some rare bird, the sunshine was passing from his spirit, even as that from the face of nature, and a shade more somber than evening's approaching gloom, overshadowed it. There was remorse of conscience for the neglected duty, and regret for the broken resolve. "I have lost my man- hood," thought he; " become weak as a child." On entering the suburbs of the- Village, Carrie pointed to a small, white cottage which looked exceedingly pictu- page: 84-85[View Page 84-85]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 84-85 84 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. resque, imbedded as it was in an ocean of verdure, and exclaimed: "What a lovely little home!" Her eyes rest- ing with pleasure on the matron who was spreading the - spotless cloth for the evening's repast beneath tie tall pines that surrounded it-gazing ever and anon with joyous affection on her husband, who was lying amid the clover and grass engaged in an uproarious play with his flaxen- haired boy of some three summers. "The young couple are so sincerely attached to each other, their home is the very abode of comfort, happiness,t and love." "Why how romantic you have become, Carrie. This then fills your idea of ' love in a cottage' does it? I must confess it falls far short of mine; I could never imagine any great amount of either comfort, happiness, or love to exist within the walls of a whitewashed cottage." "Do you conceive it to be an impossibility for happiness to dwell beneath a lowly roof?" said the pastor, with some earnestness of manner. "Not exactly so; I have read that there is more of the herb called heartsease, to be found in the bosoms of the lowly born, than in those enshrouded in silk and velvet; and I presume, persons who have known no greater com- forts, than those which are usually found in so humble a home, might experience a kind of nominal happiness; but to one accustomed to the cotforts of a more luxurious style of living, I surmise, the most ardent love in such a cottage could scarcely secure happiness. But Carrie, in your search for some object, upon which to bestow your over- flowing admiration, I am surprised that you should over- look the noble pines that surround the cottage. The pine, ri " ;EARLY ENGAGEMENTS-. 865L EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 85 of all the forest monarchs, is the most worthy of admira- tion. How majestically does it lift up its head, like a man strong in the consciousness of superiority. The storms and tempests of the North-king assail it in vain; when all its compeers have succumbed to his fury, it, with proud defiance, sets at naught his desolating breath. What a glorious type for man-rising superior to the storms of life, unmoved by the shafts of fate, be they ever so drear." With the step of a queen and head proudly erect, the young maiden all unconsciously assumed the deportment with which her imagination invested the object of her admiration. "I, too, love the pine," said the gentle Carrie, "for it reminds me of the Christian's hope. Earthly hopes fade as leaves before the northern blast' but, as the pine remains verdant, amid the desolation of surrounding death-even so the Christian's hope fades not, though encompassed in the gloom of the valley of the shadow of death." On reaching the parsonage, Carrie stopped at the gate, and opening it said; "Florence, oblige me by stepping into the parlor a moment while I give some directions to Judith that were forgotten this morning. I shall not detain you long." Florence had never before entered the parsonage, but she had frequently seen it from the church window; and embowered in flowers and shrubbery, it seemed a mimic Eden'to her; perhaps from its association with one whose presence she felt would create an Eden of the most barren spot upon earth. As she, sat in the little parlor-study, for it answered the page: 86-87[View Page 86-87]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 86-87 86 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. two-fold purpose-her eyes involuntarily glanced round the; room. They rested with pleasure upon the fine library, and with surprise, upon the plain and simple furniture-- Carrie's magnificent piano being'the ony costly piece of a furniture it contained. Her thoughts reverted to the elegant parlors in her father's house. "Yes," thought she, "my wealth will be all-sufficient for our wants." r "Of what are you thinking, Florence?" said the pastor. : He had noticed her surprise on beholding the plain and unpretending style in which his home was furnished; and l her pleasure as her glance rested on Carrie's piano, as though in that alone she recognized a familiar object. She started, for the first time in her life blushing crimson at the possibility of her thoughts becoming known to another; and answered quickly: "My thoughts are not worth even j: the small pittance usually offered for such commodity." 1: Recoverinc from her momentary embarrassment, she con- i. tinued in a tone of mock surprise: "Can it indeed be pos- sible that our pastor has abjured his creed and turned father confessor? Know then, sir proselyte, that I cling to the established faith, with the devotion of a crown-prince i of Engrland." i Carrie having completed her domestic arrangements re- entered, and they immediately arose to depart. , Though the shadows of twilight were deepening upon 7 the vale, they lingered long on their way; nor did the 1 pastor seek to hasten their footsteps, for there was that at his heart, which told him it was his last stroll with Flo- rence. He walked by her side in profound silence, taking no part in the gay and animated conversation; and she, in EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 87 her own overflowing happiness, did not perceive the shadow that rested on his brow. The poppy wreath was fallen from his eyes; in the varied conversation and occurrences of the evening, proof on proof had accumulated to convince him of how misplaced i was his affection; and the burst of -sunshine, which for a a time beamed so gloriously over him that evening, left him . in a darkness yet more hopelessly profound. , page: 88-89[View Page 88-89]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 88-89 88 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. CHAPTER VII. There was for her one only dream on earth! There was for her one only star above She bent in passionate idolatry Before her heart's sole idol. With witching song And wild guitar's soul-thrilling melody. LANDON. NEXT morning Florence received a letter from her father, announcing his determination to remove her from S---- vale that autumn, instead of the succeeding spring, the period first appointed. He wrote, that owing to the illness which prevented his visiting her at the anticipated time, he would be under the necessity of bringing her home some months sooner than he had proposed-l he could not exist till the following spring without seeing his darling, and the state of his health would not admit of two journeys of so great length within so short a period. "You shall remain, however," he concluded, "till as late a period in the season as it will be prudent for me to visit the north." The joyous young face of Carrie was clouded with grief that eveninr, as she informed her brother that Florence's residence with them was limited to so short a time. lie too, by the same post, had received a letter from an old and valued friend, urging him to accept a long standing invitation to visit him. Feeling wholly disqualified to dis- charge the duties incumbent upon him, he gratefully wrote an immediate acceptance; "and," thought he, with a sigh, EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 89 as he finished the necessary preparations for his journey; "her departure will so soon follow my return, I shall be spared further exposures to her dangerous fascinations, which the past has taught me, I am all too feeble to resist." A hope animated him also, that in the absence of all objects to remind him of his unfortunate passion, he might the more readily overcome it. The succeeding month passed with a leaden patc -to Florence-not from an eager desire, that the period should arrive, for her return home. With deep self reproach she felt, that that was no longer a source of joy to her, even though she should be restored to her father, who in declin- A ing health, was pining for her gentle ministrations of love. The dreary separation of a few weeks from the pastor, had taught her to its full extent, how entirely her happi- ness concentered in him-that life itself were valueless, unless woven with his. Having never had a -wish ungrati- fied, she thought not of the possibility of being doomed in this, the dearest, tenderest, holiest one of her life, to disap- pointment. She knew not, that even then he had flown from her presence, as from a deadly contagion-for deadly to all his hopes of earthly happiness, he feared it must prove. The' only fears or doubts she experienced on the subject, were that he might be unwilling to give up his charge, to which he was so devotedly attachedi even for the splendors of her home--" no not for that," said she, "he would scorn that as ' earth's vanities'- but for my love! There is no sacrifice that I would not make for him, then surely there can be none he would not cheerfully make for me. We cannot come to him-for my father 8 page: 90-91[View Page 90-91]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 90-91 90 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. could not exist a month in this climate, but he can come to us. It is but natural, that he should part reluctantly with those, between whom and himself relations of so tender and interesting a character, have so long existed; but this would prove, but 'as the dust atom on life's chariot wheels,' in comparison with our final separation." It was the temporary separation, for it was scarcely ! probable that he would accompany her home, that de- prived her anticipated return, of all pleasant associations. During her brother's absence, Carrie remained at the seminary, occupying part of Florence's bed, and had wept herself to sleep uponiFlorence's bosom, whenever the con- versation chanced to turn upon their approaching sepa- ration. The severance of the tender ties which had for months united them, filled her loving heart with pain. They were scarcely a moment apart now-each realized the golden value of Time. Florence also, looked forward with sorrowful regret, to the dissolution of her connection with her teachers and classmates; but especially with her who had been "more than mother kind." One evening, on coming forth from the benediction, Florence exclaimed with rapture upon the exceeding splendor of the night. The silvery clouds which had half concealed the glory of the Night Queen, in the early part of the evening, were now gathered into snow-wreaths along the horizon; and all Nature seemed in a trance beneath her gentle smile. "( It is too lovely a night to retire so soon," said Carrie; "Please, dear, good, kind Miss Johnson," she said, turn- ing to our superior teacher; "permit Florence and I to EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 91 sing one song upon the bridge, before we retire. Music on the water, this sweet, stilly evening, will be enchanting, and we will return before the lights are out." Ere the reluctant consent was given, she had flown to the music-room for Florence's guitar; and a few moments later, their voices blended in sweet song to its accompani- ment. There was an unexpected listener,ofor the pastor had-re- turned that evening, and had hastened to the seminary, hoping to be there in time to participate in the evening's devotion; but on ascending the steps, he heard the voice of prayer, and unwilling to disturb the worshiping as- sembly, by so late an entrance, had gone into Mrs, Or- mond's private parlor, to await the dismission. When the service was ended, a servant entered to close the blinds, and extinguish the lamps, and informed him that Mrs. Ormond had retired early, in consequence of slight indisposition, and that Miss Caroline was on the lawn. As he stepped forth in search of her, the tinkling sound of a guitar, and the rich, exquisite tones of a voice, too fatally melodious to him, came floating up the lawn on the evening air. Very soon were Carrie's sweet, " wild woodland notes,", hushed by the sorrowful remembrance that she should enjoy but a few more such precious hours-that soon, very soon, the loved voice of her friend, would be heard there no more, perchance, forever! Large, pearly drops, stole softly down her rose-tinted cheeks, and her arms, which were wound lovingly around her beloved classmate, uncon- sciously tightened their pressure. page: 92-93[View Page 92-93]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 92-93 92 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. Silence reigned supreme--not a sound disturbed the sweet cadence of song. The voice of the fair minstrel grew fainter and fainter, until it too, ceased; but the air, as though entranced with the melody of its tones, caught, and held them long in its tremulous embrace. There was a touching pathos in it, never before known in Florence's song. As well might you seek for sorrow in the {' birdling's song," as hers; for like it hers were the gushings forth from a "heart so blest, it must, it must be singing." It had ever vibrated upon the pastor's heart with won- drous power, but never before, had it awakened so deep and sympathetic a response. The heart surcharged with grief, yields the most ready sympathy to the sorrows of others. Neither time, nor distance, had removed the rank- ling thorn from his inmost soul; therefore it was, that the sorrow of her song affected him so powerfully. He stood motionless, until the last sounds died away upon the night breeze; then turned to seek the servant to dispatch him for his sister, to acquaint her with his arrival. But the doors were closed, and there was no one to be seen. This gave him the opportunity so coveted, a moment since, to approach her, and ascertain the cause of her melancholy: and stifling the "still, small voice" that bade him "flee from the song of the siren," almost before he was aware of it he was approaching her. If this be deemed a weakness in the pastor, that he should, after a thorough conviction of the danger, again seek the society of Florence, there is some palliation in the fact that the duties of his vocation, as well as the kindly EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 93 impulses of his nature, led him ever to the side of the sorrowing. The velvet softness of the grass, broke the sound of his footfall, and he was very near to them, ere they knew of his coming. His eyes were riveted on the face of the young southerner, and its pensive expression was rendered clearly visible by the pure, unclouded rays of the moon. He subdued, by a strong effort, the emotions which agitated him, and spoke in a tone so light, it jarred strangely painful on his ear. "I have come to disturb your melancholy reveries," said he, extending to each a hand; "I fear the moon, whom Hood tells us, ' is the source of sighs, the very face to make us sad,' has cast upon you the baneful spells the poet ascribes to her." "Brother," burst forth the sweet ringing voice of Carrie, as she sprang with joyous surprise into his arms. "My darling little sister," murmured the pastor, folding her to his breast, and leaning over her, pressed his lips to her fair young brow. Every trace of melancholy had vanished from the face of Florence, when he again looked up, and a smile most radiant beamed from it as she replied: "And would you have us ever gay? Does not the same author affirm, 'There 's not a string attuned to mirth, But has its chords of melancholy.' But the influence of which you spoke gave no coloring to our thoughts. We have been conversing much-to-day of my return home ;" her voice faltered, and again a shade of melancholy swept over her beautiful features. .. Of page: 94-95[View Page 94-95]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 94-95 " EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. And does that induce a melancholy train of thought? With you, I supposed, the effect would be quite opposite." "It does; for though I am anxious to be re-united to my father, who has borne this long separation with a martyr's courage, I shall leave behind me friends, who have become dear as life to me; and the loss of whose society, must create a painful vacuum even amid the loved associations of home." The heart of the pastor was one throb of joy. Might not he, without a very great degree of vanity, claim to be one of those friends of whom she had spoken in terms of such endearing affection. For a time he dared not speak-at length he replied: "This avowal will revive the drooping spirits of Carrie, who feared much, that in the happy society of the ' loved ones' to whom you will so shortly return, the memory of this place, and the friendships formed here, would pass away. In order to rescue one friend from the heart's obli- vion, she desired me to procure her a ring to present to you, as a sort of remembrancer, hoping that it might re- freshen your memory of her when it began to grow dim." He took her small, passive hand, within his own, and placed upon one of those tapering fingers, the richly-jew- eled ring-the circlet, whose talismanic powers were to bind the past to the future. "Can it be," said she, with unwonted enthusiasm, "that I have been so long with you, and still you know me not. Base ingrate, indeed, must I prove, to forget friends toi whom I owe so much. How deeply you wrong me, Carrie, by such a thought. Not until the heart of Florence De Lisle has ceased its pulsations, can the memory of kind- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 95 ness such as yours be obliterated; and while life remains, the hours spent in this beautiful vale, in the society of friends so dear, will ever be regarded as the brightest and happiest of her young existence." As she uttered the latter part of the sentence her eyes were involuntarily turned toward him who had given to those hours their brightest hues. A crimson blush suffused her brow as the thought came over her that her impetuosity of feeling, had induced her to say more than she should have done-far more than maidenly modesty warranted. She withdrew the hand which was still tremulously retained in his. It was yielded reluctantly, and the warm pressure which sought to detain it caused the lifetide to flow tumultuously through her veins. Words, burning with the eloquence of love, arose to the pastor's lips--"She loves me-she loves me," thought he; and in that blessed thought every obstacle to their union seemed at once to vanish. But Carrie now caught her hand, to examine the ring, and began to express her approbation of his choice. (Ah, Carrie! Carrie-! why did you thus step, as it were, between two hearts, which but a word would have rendered forever " one and inseparable," and put them asunder, ah! must it be forever!) The gems which the ring contained blazed and flickered beneath the moonbeams, and Carrie observed, "You have chosen wisely, dear Theodore, it is truly emblematical of my affection-endless as the circle-brightJand enduring as the gem. Whenever it arrests your attention, dearest Florence, may it recall to remembrance an affection which time, nor distance, nor aught save death can chill." page: 96-97[View Page 96-97]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 96-97 96 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. Deep feeling ever destroys the power of utterance; and Florence could do naught but press her lips warmly to Car- rie's brow, in assurance of her sincere appreciation of the (i sentiments of regard she professed. ? But the lights are disappearing in the rooms, brother, and we must no longer detain Florence. Already my sis- ter's rules have been transgressed ; but he shall suffer the penalty, shall he not, Florence? But for him we should have returned long since;" and kissing her, she bade her i good night, and took her brother's arm to depart. "Good night, good night," murmured Florence, raising her lustrous glance for a moment to Mr. Neville's. With a quick, uncertain step, she hastened to her room. All tremulous with emotion, it was a relief to be alone- alone with her heart's overflowing bliss. Her whole being was one thrill of rapture, therefore, it was impossible to : retire. She sat down by the window, through which a flood of silvery radiance was pouring, and- pressed her burning face and throbbing brow to the glass, as though to cool their fevered heat. But quietude was insupportable-she arose, threw up the sash and stepped forth upon the balcony. Hour followed hour into the deep, unfathomable gulf of time, yet Florence, all-unheeding, continued to pace with a hurried step back and forth. At length, from sheer ex- haustion, she sank down, and bending her beautiful face over the balustrade, gazed out upon the mute scene of repose before her. All nature seemed under the slumberous influence of the night-god, save her, the tumults of whose soul were indi- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 97 cated by her hurried pace. The very air seemed to sleep upon the soft bosom of the valley-not a sound-not a breath disturbed the sweet serenity; and ere long nature's holy calm soothed her excited feelings into repose. The stars were paling away, and morning's rosy tints stained the eastern sky, when she arose to resume her nightly couch. Sleep gradually stole upon her; yet ever and anon smiles swept over those stilly features, like flashes of sunshine on the calm lake's surface, and told that the mind, unfettered by the chains which bound the physical powers, was roaming through Elysian fields. In the visions of sleep, again she stood upon the bridge, (a place most meet for such a scene, for here they had first met,) and the ring he presented was the ring of betroth- ment-again were her hands clasped in his, and even the imaginary pressure pervaded her "With raptured joy's tumultuous swell," and the moon, who, through all ages of time, has lighted the lover's tryste, shed upon them her softest radiance. The incoherent replies of the pastor, on his homeward way, betrayed his abstracted thoughts. Those precious words still rang in his ears-" the happiest hours of my life have been spent here, in the society of these friends-- friends who are dear as life." It was more, perhaps, owing to her manner and tone, than to the words themselves, that gave the pastor hope of a reciprocity of his affection-and well he knew that Florence De Lisle never yet professed a sentiment she did not feel. The hope once admitted, all his former doubts vanished in regard to the happiness of their union, whose positions in life were so diametrically opposed to each other. So 9 page: 98-99[View Page 98-99]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 98-99 98 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. long as he thought he alone should suffer, the obstacles to their marriage seemed too formidable to be overcome; but she-she must be shielded from every possible pang-her happiness must not be sacrificed for any trivial considera- tions. Doubtless, her proud and aristocratic father would seek for his only child, his beautiful heiress, a far more distin- guished alliance; yet his idolatrous affection for her, would prevent any very decided opposition to their union; for her happiness could not but be the boon most prized by him, since in that, his own was concentrated. Though he felt it impossible to be near her now, and not betray his regard by every glance, tone, and action, his honorable nature forbade him making a formal declaration, until after Mr. De Lisle's arrival, when he would acquaint him with their mutual affection, and seekto obtain the ap- probation of his suit. The young pastor poured forth his deep and fervent gratitude, for the unnumbered blessings of life; and sank to sleep, murmuring, "Pardon me, Heavenly Father, if, in the excess of earthly happiness, my heart has somewhat strayed from Thee; and oh! do Thou keep this earthly love from coming between mine and thine." 1C EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 99 CHAPTER VIII. Ah! me, for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. MDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Serene he stood, A pale, sad beauty on his youthful brow, With eyes upraised, as if the stricken soul Fled from material things. SIGOURNEY. "Alas! that clouds should ever steal O'er love's delicious sky." AT an earlier hour than usual on the succeeding evening the pastor directed his course toward the seminary. He was just entering his sister's room, when a door opened further along the portico, and Florence bounded forth. She paused to look down upon some of her young com- panions who were dancing on the green, beneath the trees, to the merry tones of a guitar. The pastor also paused involuntarily upon the threshold, to gaze upon her as she stood before him, the very embodiment of youth, beauty, and grace. The light of those dark, glorious eyes was strangely soft and melting, and pervaded his inmost soul with a thrill of rapture. Without perceiving him, she sprang down the. steps to participate in the amusement of her friends, and he turned to address Mrs. Ormond. After some coinmon-place remarks he sank into silence; his visual organs still retaining the radiant figure of the young southern girl. Joy lurked in the depths of his dark page: 100-101[View Page 100-101]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 100-101 100 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. blue eye, and the soft, benignant smile habitual to him, had deepened into one of intense happiness. "Theodore," said Mrs. Ormond, "I received a letter from Mr. De Lisle this morning, informing me that he would most certainly be at S-- by the first of next month, to accompany Florence home. I was much surprised by the announcement of Florence's marriage engagement, which occurred previously to her leaving home. He adds, that it meets with his most cordial approbation. Were you aware of it before?" "Aware of what?" said he, with a start of pain, as though pierced by some keen instrument. "Of Florence Delisle's marriage engagement to Henri Soule, of whom we have so often heard her speak?" "No, O! no-that is an impossibility-there is some strange mistake-it cannot be." "So I thought. Her extreme youth at the time of leaving home, seemed to preclude the possibility of such a thing. But instances of the kind are of frequent occur- rence in the South. My surprise was such on reading the an- nouncement of it, that I supposed Mr. De Lisle had adopted the European style-taken upon himself the responsibility of providing a husband after his own heart for his daugh- ter; but on reading further, I found that he disclaimed the idea, by saying, that although it had been proposed to him, by the father of young Soul6, at the time he accepted the guardianship of him, and though he himself earnestly de- sired it, his affection for his daughter, would not permit him to take any decided steps in a matter wherein her happiness was so deeply interested." "He speaks also, of the extreme gratification with EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 101 which he witnessed the growth of their affection; but that he was not aware of their engagement, until after Flo- rence's departure, when Mr. Soule acquainted him with it. Inclosed, there was a letter from young Soule to Florence, which he requested me to deliver, being the only one he has written, owing to Mr. De Lisle's express prohibition; he having feared such a correspondence might retard her im- provement, by distracting her attention from her studies; and knowing also, my disapproval of correspondences of that character. There can therefore be no mistake, and I am only surprised now, that Florence, who confides so en- tirely in Caroline, should have withheld so important a fact from her." He moved not-spoke not-apparently breathed not- sat as one suddenly transformed to marble. The cup just lifted to his taste, filled to the brim with, neetared honey, was dashed to the earth, and in its stead the wormwood draught pressed his lips. A groan, wrung from his heart's agony, alone attested that he had life. Absorbed in some occupation, Mrs. Ormond did not ob- serve the effect of her communication upon her brother, until aroused by his agonizing sigh, she looked up, and be- held with painful surprise, his deadly pallor, land fixed, despairing glance. The truth then came as the lightning's flash, but alas! too late. Mingled feelings of regret, amazement, indignation and. sorrow, filled her bosom. With great regret, she now saw the error of having intrusted her brother and Florence so frequently together. She was amazed that one of his ex- cellent sense,. should not have perceived the madness and folly of indulging other sentiments for her, than those D page: 102-103[View Page 102-103]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 102-103 102 EAnRLY ENGAGEMENTS. friendship-but when she thought of the possibility of his affection being returned, and of the overwhelming displea- sure of Mr. Delisle, when it should become known to him, her feelings toward her brother assumed a tinge of indig- nation, for it seemed almost a bretrayal of the trust she E had reposed in him. Too well she knew, from the whole tenor of Mr. Delisle's correspondence, that his consent to such a union for his daughter, could never be obtained; and upon her must rest the greatest-weight of his displeasure, for lavingi sanctioned the intimacy, of which this was the result. Incensed beyond all measure, he would most prob- ably regard them as a family of poor adventurers, who hiad colluddc together, to win his heiress; or rather to se- cure to themselves the rich dower invested in her right. But mortifying as were such reflections, they were soon lost in intense sorrow, for his present unhappiness, and the life-lonrg wretchedness which she saw awaited him. In Florence's case, she hoped that if her feelings had become interested, that it was but a passing and evanescent regard, which would vanish when restored to him who had won her earliest affection. She longed to approach her brother, to assure him of her sympathy; but she felt that "H's vas.- not grief that words had comfort for; that human sympathy miglht not stay the flow of the deep fountain of bitterness, lwhich with maddening fury had swept away the brilght hopes he had cherished so fondly. She therefore silently withdrew, leaving him to solitude and communion with self. Long he sat, motionless as a statue, save an occasional EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 103 quiver which passed through his frame. At length his lips moved, and the tones of his voice were low and mournfully sweet, as the wail of the wind amid the XEolian's chords. "How could I s6 deceive myself-and' I had dared to hope she loved me--all too willingly have I misconstrued the smiles with which she greeted me, and her ardent ex- pressions of gratitude for the slight kindnesses I have ren- dered her-willfully have mine eyes been blinded, else had I known that one, whose eagle-like destiny is for the lofty places of earth, amid the full blaze of its sunshine, would scorn the shade of the lowly valley. Shorn now of the meaning which my weak heart gave to them, I can see that the words she last night uttered, which were more precious to me than Ophir's gold, were but the overflowings of a grateful heart." "My cup overfloweth with bitterness-"He paused, overcomne with emotion, his head drooping forward to his breast. At length he continued, glancing upward, "But Oh! do Thou, who in thy brief sojourn on earth, wast 'a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,' give me to see the insignificancy of my sorrows, compared to thine,. O Heavenly Father! in mercy strengthen me, and enable me to bear unmurmuringly, the ills which a birthright of sin has entailed upon our fallen race; and if at every step of the pathway of life, we are torn and lacerated by its thorns, may we find consolation in knowing it leads to that 'haven of rest, where sorrows are unknown. Pardon me, if for a moment my spirit rebelled, and I felt that there 'was never sorrow, like unto mine'-pardon me, that I lose not both this world's peace and that which has no end. Make me to feel that all that Thou dost order, is wise and proper- page: 104-105[View Page 104-105]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 104-105 104 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. since had my fate through life been linked to the gifted being's, whose loss my heart doth mourn, earthly ties per- chance had weakened those which bound me to Thee. Assist me, oh! assist me to root out each unhallowed thought and feeling and live alone to Thee.-Be Thou my Polar star of life-and may my affections be lifted from the dust of earth and concentrated on Thee, Thee alone!" He arose comforted, and "girded with strength from on high," and left the seminary privately, and returned to the parsonage. Evening, succeeded evening, and yet the pastor came no more to pour out the nightly benediction, on the young heads of his sister's household; nor did his voice again mingle with theirs, in the sweet evening hymn of praise. Florence glanced over the letter from Henri Soule, smiling incredulously, meanwhile. With a burst of laugh- ter she exclaimed, " a most lover-like epistle, truly. Poor Harry, his seclusion from society has not tended very materially to enlighten him, in the mysteries of the heart- knowing nothing of womankind in general, he imagines ,himself to be most desperately enamored of an ignorant, cross, sickly girl of fifteen-' undying affection, ' what an absurdity! A few hours in the sweet society of my friend Carrie, and her enchantments would cause him to forget all these violent protestations of love, and acquaint him with his true sentiments for me, which can be no other than those of a fraternal nature. I do not love him less, than in by-gone days, but he can never be more to me than a very dear brother. He reminds me of an engagement, made thoughtlessly enough to be sure, for I had long since forgotten it. But that does not matter; once with Carrie, EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 105 and his memory too, will play him truant. His proud, and chivalric nature, will glory in shielding a being so gentle, and loving, and mimosa-like, as Carrie." "Then papa will need some one to console him in his loneliness, when Harry and I are both gone ; and who so worthy his love as she who has been more than a mother to his wayward daughter, for many months. Dear Mrs. Ormond, the ease and comforts of her close of life will somewhat compensate for the arduous duties of the past; and whither shall my lot be cast? Anywhere - any- where- 'Whether sunned at the tropics, or chilled at the pole,' if he" - she clasped her hands over her face, to hide the burning blushes her thoughts had called up. Then with a light laugh she sought to throw off her embarrassment by saying: V "Well, I certainly have things arranged as admirably as the most scientific matchmaker of my sex. I congratu- late myself on my newly-discovered talent." She stooped to pick up Henri Soule's letter, which had fallen to the floor, and said: ' Never, never may Florence De Lisle wed him, while--" Again her brow was flooded With crimson; and dashing the letter into a drawer, she sprang from the room, down the steps, and into the portico. It was just then that the pastor stepped upon the threshold of his sister's door, and paused unobserved to gaze upon her, as she stood there "with the love-light in her eye," and the flush still linger- ing amid the roses of her cheek which thoughts of him had given birth. On the following Sabbath the pastor was ill; not danger- page: 106-107[View Page 106-107]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 106-107 106 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. ously so, it was said, but too much indisposed to perform the services of the day; and a strange minister officiated in his stead. He was in many respects the opposite to Mr. Neville. His forehead, lofty and retreating, was surmounted by masses of iron-gray hair, each particular hair standing stiffly up, as though electrified by sudden fright. Enlarged benevolence and Christian gentleness had not thrown their mantle of beauty over his coarse, irregular features. If the countenance be an index of the soul (which it most assur- edly is), one would naturally expect that the few repulsive features of the christian creed-those which appeal to the animal instincts-would prove the theme, on which such a one would expatiate, with the greatest facility; and so indeed it proved; for with a harsh, unpleasant countenance, and a yet more harsh and disagreeable voice, he stood within the sacred desk, hurling forth denunciations, anathe- mas, and storms of abuse on the human family; seeking rather to force and terrify, than to win souls to the service of Christ. The contrast between the two pastors forced itself upon the minds of the congregation; and with painful apprehen- sion they mentally asked the question, "Should the Almighty see proper to remove their pastor in his present illness, where should they find another, such as he?" Fears and self-upbraidings filled their breasts, lest they had not heretofore prized aright his "labors of love" in their midst. To Florence, in her yet vague and unformed ideas of religion, it seemed as though the strange minister taught of some god of a heathen race-not of that Holy One of EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 107 whom, from Sabbath to Sabbath, she had listened as a God of love, who would not accept the homage of a heart, yielded merely from the dictates of a servile passion. He had taught that "perfect love casteth. out fear;" and his powers of utterance were exerted in delineation of a God of love, a heaven of bliss, and the happiness which a vir- tuous and pious life secures both in this, and the world to come; and when he spoke of the sins of frail humanity, it was in that solemn and deeply-impressive mannerwhich carried conviction to the soul, of its unworthiness of the rich boon-a Savior's dying love. O that the vicegerents of God on earth, more nearly resembled "our pastor"-that their lives and teachings were a more perfect mirror of his-the meek, the pure, the holy Nazarene! Another return of the sacred day came and passed, and still the young pastor was unable to perform divine service; but when another week was lost in the mists of the past, the joy of all was unbounded, for it was announced and confirmed, that he would once more fill his pulpit. He arose to open the service, and many wondered to see the change his recent illness had wrought; for his counte- nance bore the traces of deep suffering, though it was calm and serene as usual. A shade of melancholy rested on his youthful brow, and the smile, whose sweetness had won all hearts to him, was faded away. His voice thrilled with a sweet, solemn cadence, as he poured forth the blessings of God upon his people; but when the melody of praise arose he was visibly agitated-again the voice, to which he had so often listened in rapture, arose and swelled throughout the church, and flooded him in billows of melody. He page: 108-109[View Page 108-109]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 108-109 108 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. dared not listen-but lifting up his voice in secret prayer, sought to free his mind from material things, and fix them on heavenly. When he again rose up he was strengthened from that Source, whence the heavily-laden can alone obtain strength, and the worn and weary, peace; and in a strain of impas- sioned eloquence and power, he spoke of that blessed world where sorrows and desolations come not. The pro- foundest depths his soul seemed stirred-burst after burst of eloquence ell upon the hearts of his audience, as sparks of heavenly fire. At the close of the discourse, he sank down overpowered, bowing his head to his folded hands. All present were deeply affected; they said afterward, that the sermon derived its force and power from the circum-. stance of the pastor having been recently on the verge of the grave; where, with unclouded eyes, he had seen all "earth's emptiness," and the peculiar blessedness of the hope of a haven of rest for the soul, when the storms of life are over. Many lingered without the church to offer their congra- tulations on his restored health. Florence, was of the number; making some trivial excuse the cause of her delay. At length he came forth-their eyes met-but there was no smile of recognition or pleasure on his part. -Ie turned aside to groups of friends who were waiting impatiently to grasp the hand of their beloved pastor. Notwithstanding his avoidance of her was apparent to Florence, she sought to banish the painful thoughts it occa- sioned, by the indulgence of a hope that she must have been unobserved. It was an ignis-fatuus hope, gleaming with a flickering light in her bosom, then vanishing in darkness. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 109 "Even if it were so, that he saw me not, it is unpardon- able, for he should have thought of me, and sought me out," said she, in bitterly reproachful tones. "Who on this broad earth loves him as I do? Then who so overjoyed to meet him again." For the first time, she had found a thorn amid life's roses. The finest piano in the institution was in Mrs. Ormond's private parlor; and the few young ladies who were superior performers were often permitted to practice on it. The day succeeding the last-named events, as Florence, in a far more grave and thoughtful mood than was at all usual to her, was proceeding along the hall to the parlor, with her music books on her arm, the pastor entered the front door, just before her. He had entered that way purposely to avoid meeting any one; for the school-rooms, and young ladies' rooms were located in the back part of the building, and none but Mrs. Ormond's immediate family frequented the front rooms. As it most frequently occurs, he came in contact with the one whom, of all others, he most desired to shun. With her usual impulsiveness, she sprang forward to him, expressing her pleasure in her own warm, cordial manner, at his improved health. He did not, as he once would have done, relieve her of her cumbrous burden-go with her into the parlor and turn the pages of music for her, or mingle his voice with hers in song, or sit by her side, enraptured with her brilliant execution of some chef d'ouvre of musical composition; but he murmured forth his thanks in tones so grave and page: 110-111[View Page 110-111]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 110-111 "O EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. frigid, that Florence became petrified with astonishment and scarce had power to withdraw from his presence. Once, in the solitude of her own chamber, she gave vent to the grief his changed deportment caused. "What can I have done to merit such treatment? How have I offended ,him? I, who would esteem any sacrifice trifling, which would secure to me his good opinion. Whence can it be that I have so grievously offended him?" Hot tears gushed forth, and, in a paroxysm of grief, she threw herself upon the bed. After a time, hope, the rosy winged angel of the youthful breast, soothed her anguished feelings. "It cannot be that I will long lie under the ban of his displeasure. Carrie, dear Carrie, will intercede for me - she will bear my apologies to him, and I shall soon be restored to his favor." wt was thus she thrust from her the dark thought of an estrangement of his affection; and as one sinking beneath the waves of despair, she grasped at the frailest trifle, to buoy up her desponding spirits. The depth and strength of her affection may be judged, when a heart so proud as Florence De Lisle's would bow itself to supplicate for forgiveness of an offense which she was unconscious of having given. The following day her spirits were very unequal-alter- nating between hope and fear. In a private interview with Carrie, she expressed her fears that some act of hers had failed to meet Mr. Neville's approbation. Carrie was sure that such was not the case, as he had spoken of her in his usual terms of high regard. After the close of school hours, she and a number of her EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 1" classmates went into the village to make some trifling pur- chases. Again she chanced to meet the pastor; and again his words to her were few, cold, and constrained; and these, together with his evident haste to free himself from her presence, told all convincingly, to a heart so proud and sensitive as hers, that she was no longer an object of interest to him. A night of impenetrable darkness closed over the beau- tiful valley, and its murky folds seemed to enwrap the heart of one in the sunshine of youth. Sleeplessly she tossed from pillow to pillow-at times wringing her hands in wild frenzy, and again, clasping them in mute despair. She had endeavored to recall the conversation of the memorable evening they had last spent together, upon which occasion his manner had betrayed all its accustomed warmth. She could not distinctly remember all her remarks, but enough was remembered to convince her that she had betrayed her affection for him. Clearly it came to herthat he had made no reply, or spoken again, after her ardent declaration of regard, except when he bade her good night; nor had he ever, by a single word, expressed other than a friendly regard for her. It was evident to her now, that she had yielded up woman's priceless treasure, " the pure, virgin love of her soul," un- sought; and it was thrown crushingly back upon her heart, as a thing valueless. Having met with no response in his bosom, his present coldness was to remove all hopes of- a return, if any such were entertained. It was Florence's first great sorrow; and as the convic- tion forced itself slowly and painfully upon her, that hence- forth she was to be banished from his love -the life-tide page: 112-113[View Page 112-113]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 112-113 "2 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. flowed back in chilled, cold waves upon her heart, almost paralyzing its vital powers. The heart, says the sweet Alice Carey, must find shelter somewhere; if not in love, in ambition or pride; and now Florence, laboring under the painfully humiliating convic- tion that her love was rejected, called up all the pride-- the towering pride of her nature, to suppress her unfortu- nate passion, or, at least, to conceal it from the world. She was maddened at the thought, that in one unguarded moment, she had betrayed it; but never! never, should he know the agony of its death-pangs. Alas! thou young and seemingly heaven-favored maiden, thou, too, art doomed to wear the mask decreed to so many of thy unfortunate sex - the glittering smile conceal- ing the darkened heart, even as the luminous atmosphere conceals the dark orb of the sun. Florence mingled in all the varied sports of her friends- conversed gayly, and often smiled; but it was a ghastly smile, which, to the'observant eye, told of a heart writhing in agony. Frequently her beautiful features twitched con- vulsively, and large drops were seen to gather in her eyes, though she vainly strove to force them back. Oftentimes, too, her voice grew husky, with suppressed sobs; and she was become restless and absent-minded, notwithstanding her efforts to seem gay and happy. If any chanced to notice the change, it was attributed to the sorrow she would naturally feel at parting with us, for she was now daily ex- pecting her father. Oh! how ardently she longed for his coming. Stricken and wounded, she pined to nestle in his bosom, and receive his tender sympathies. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 113 How bitterly she reproached herself, that in the delirium of her new passion, her love for, him had grown so cold he whose love for her had never flickered or waned, but "Who o'er her infant graces watched With tender pride, and all her sins of youth In blindfold fondness pardoned." There was no longer a necessity for the pastor's avoiding her. He had noticed her start of surprise and pain at his constrained and brief replies to her cordial and pleasant greetings, and his heart ached that he had caused her one pang. Whatever the effort cost him, he resolved not to wound her again, by actions so strangely at variance with his former demeanor- he would meet her as he did the other young ladies of the institution. But no opportunity was again given him--once, only, they met. Florence and Anna Greer were walking upon the lawn, and their path chanced to cross his. Though her cheek blanched somewhat, she did not shrink from the meeting, but with a manner frigidly polite - she bowed- and passed on. 10 page: 114-115[View Page 114-115]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 114-115 "4 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. CHAPTER IX. It was an evening when through the green leaves Of the old chestnut, shot the golden light Of the rich sunset. LANDON. But the vision was sealed upon my soul, and its memory is shrined in fragrance. TUPPER. There came a freshness on the trees, Harbinger of evening breeze, When a sweet, far sound of song, Borne by the breath of flowers along. IANDON. IT was Florence's last evening at S--- valley-on the morrow her father would arrive to convey her away ; and alone she wandered o'er the beautiful domain, whither nearly three bright and happy years had been spent. She gazed with mournful earnestness upon the dear, familiar scenes. "Thou wilt never more salute mine eyes, thou beautiful vision; but so deeply art thou ingrained upon my soul, that be my habitation the uttermost parts of the earth from thee-yet wilt thou be ever present with me." Almost unconsciously she stood beneath the chestnut tree-her " rural studio." as she was wont to term it, in gayer and happier hours. She seated herself in the old, accustomed seat, and her eyes turned with a yearning glance to the pathway along which she had so often watched for his coming. It was late in October, and the chill breath of the north told fearfully on the old forest-trees-having stripped them, i EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 115 with rude violence, of their emerald mantles -spring's beauteous gift;--and the dried and withered leaves lay in great heaps at their bases. The breeze, murmuring its low and mournful plaint over the couch of the dying year, fell with a sad and solemn cadence on the ear. All! all was changed, save La Belle Riviere, who, calm and placid, went singing by, happy as when the sweet spring flowers had bent their fragrant lips to its smile-wreathed face. The sun was fast being lost amid the western hills ; she gazed upon it, murmuring, in tones hopelessly sad -- When again yon sun goes down to rest, many miles will intervene between me and this loved spot." Memory, like an evil genius, frequently goads the bleeding spirit, by recalling " former joys"-no longer pleasing, but alas!"too mournful to the soul." The last evening she had watched the declining sun, it was upon the hill-side with the pastor. How painful the contrast between the past and the present evening.- "Truly then, said Carrie, ' the sun is setting,'--setting to me forever-and yet I knew it not." Every moment she became more agitated, until in a wild burst of grief, she threw herself upon the crisped and with- ered leaves. There was no eye there to witness her grief- therefore she gave free vent to her long suppressed feel- ings, "( nor sought to check the fearful pangs that bowed her inmost soul." Twilight gradually swept over the earth, yet still she lay in wild abandonment, prostrate upon the sod-sobs ever and anon bursting from her. There came through the forest aisles the faint, far-off murmur of song; and the gentle tones stole down into her page: 116-117[View Page 116-117]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 116-117 "6 EARLT ENGAGEMENTS. heart with a soft and irresistible power-they were as oil upon its troubled waters. "What distant music has the power, To win her, in that woeful hour?" It was the sweet evening hymn in which her v6ice had so often mingled with those of her beloved classmates. She arose and seated herself beneath the tree, pressing her hands upon her brow, which seemed girdled with iron. When the last tones died away in the valley, her tears flowed afresh, but gently now, as the dew-shower upon the wilted flowers. The wild storm of grief was passed. The breeze freshened and came athwart the diamond waves, cooling her burning, aching brow; but still she sat as one transfixed to the spot, until the night was far spent, when some rustling sound amid the fallen leaves, aroused her, and springingl up she fled in haste to the seminary. She was alarmed, lest in her protracted absence, the doors miglit be closed for the night, and she unable to gain ad- mittance to her chamber, but approaching a window, she softly threw up the sash and entered noiselessly. On regaining her room, another trial awaited her-which threatened to destroy her partially regained composure; CarTie was lying asleep in her bed, and the silvery moon- beams, as if enamored of her gentle beauty, hung trem- blingly over her. The contrast between Carrie's happy lot, untraced by the i footsteps of sorrow, and her own dark destiny, awakened for a moment a host of bitter murmurings. She bent over that fair, young face with an earnest-- almost an envious glance. Cloudlessly beautiful as an infants, itappeared; the highly cultivated intellect breath- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 117 ing from it, even in the immobility of sleep. Her cap was pushed partly back, and many a rich, brown curl had burst from its frail prison. The folds of muslin, pure and stain- less as the young heart beneath it, lay like snowdrifts upon the expanding beauties of her womanhood, and were lifted with a slightly perceptible motion by her gentle res- piration. "How soft and sweet thy slumbers are, dear Carrie," she mentally said, "not broken and disturbed by frightful phantoms, as mine-no, no, thy gentle bosom will never feel the 'envenomed dart,' which rankles in the breast of thy wretched friend-none, none can know thee but to love thee, or name thee but to bless.' " A hot tear fell upon the face of the slumberer, and broke the light sleep into which she was fallen. She started up bewilderingly, "Dear Florence, whither have you been wandering at this late hour? You were not at prayers, and after seeking for you vainly in every place where I thought you would most likely be, I at length came here, thinking you would soon return. I felt that I must spend this night with you, and as I lay musing on the bed, I was overcome by the lateness of the hour, I presume, and sank to sleep. You were not at prayers, and Theodore-" "What of him?" said Florence, with a sudden start. "He was there, and offered up so sweet a prayer for you-the young lamb of his flock as he called you-who were now about to be removed from our midst, and exposed to the temptations of a wicked world. Oh! it must have reached the ear to which it was directed, and will preserve you forever from the contaminating influence of sin. I wish you had been there. We all wept and sobbed aloud.' page: 118-119[View Page 118-119]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 118-119 "8 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. The heart of Florence was softened at this affecting proof of the affection of her shoolfellows-then with some bitterness she replied: "I am truly under lasting obliga- j tions to Mr. Neville for the interest he manifests in my future welfare." Changing the conversation with a sud- f denness habitual to her, for her mind darted with a rapidity from subject to subject, quite startling to those of a calmer and steadier flow of thought, she said: "'I have been to-night to all our favorite haunts. I would 'bear away the precious picture,' ' to keep through life'--but my brain reels, Carrie! my temples throb with pain. I long to lie beside you, and feel your arms about me. and then I shall be well." Carrie hastily assisted her to undress, saying: "How damp your clothes are, Florence! and how pale you are!" she added, as Florence sank down upon the bed and the moon shone over her pallid brow. "n You have acted very unwisely in remaining so long in the chill night air." The next morning, Florence was suffering much from lier imprudent exposure of the night previous. She arose with a violent pain in her head, and with scarce sufficient strength to complete her preparations for leaving; but her anxiety to be freed from the torturing restraints of that place, induced her to conceal her illness. A few hours later, a carriage drove rapidly up the gra- veled walk and Florence was once more clasped to the bosom of her father; and for a time, the joy of being again with him caused a transient respite of her sorrows. Tears of rapture coursed over the wan and sunken cheek of her father, as he gazed upon her expanded and fully matured womanhood. Even his unbounded expectations EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 119 were more than realized, in her dazzling beauty, exquisite grace, and fine mental attainments. The full-wealth of a nobly generous heart was poured out on Mrs. Ormond for her tender care of his orphan daughter. He had brought magnificent presents for the friends, whose kindness she had never failed to mention in her let- ters; and among them there was a Bible, glittering with the splendor of its binding, and clasped with golden fasten- ings, upon one of which the name of "FLORENCE Dr LISLE" was handsomely engraved. It was designed for the pastor, and was given into Carrie's hands to deliver-he, as Florence rightly conjectured, having remained purposely away--but from far different motives, than those attributed by her. In vain he had sought to nerve himself to "pay the parting call," but felt his insufficiency of self-control to conceal the painful emotions their final separation would arouse. Her adieus were made with her teachers and class- mates-and even she, who during the whole term of their acquaintance, had manifested the most implacable dislike to Florence, now on the eve of their parting, relented and besought forgiveness for all past rudeness and harshness. She paused for the last time on the threshold to gaze round the school-room, and all its loved occupants-then passed with a rapid step along the hall leading to the por- tico-whither her father, Mrs. Ormond and Carrie were waiting for her. It was growing late, and Mr. Delisle had become impa- tient to be gone, in order to reach the city in time for the evening ,( packet." Another had been added tothe group in her absence. page: 120-121[View Page 120-121]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 120-121 120 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. . When she stepped forth, her eye rested on the form of Mr. :Neville, who was conversing with her father. She faltered, - then shrank nervously back; her frame shaken with most violent agitation. "Not until the last moment, has he deigned to pay the respect, which the most indifferent of my acquaintances lihave not failed to do." Her faltering limbs were endowed with a sudden strength, and drawing her form proudly up, with the step of a queen she advanced toward him. Calmly and coldly she placed her hand within his, and in tones singularly clear and distinct, bade him-adieu; reiterating her assurances of gratitude for all past favors. Those lips, so eloquent, were closed as though with the seal of the grave. Not a sound escaped from them, as he bowed his tall form to the cold hand clasped in his, and pressed it to them. "Is it thus we part!" thought she, "with not a word of sorrow, or rerrret, or hope, or wish to meet again!" She was clasped in Mrs. Ormond's and Carrie's arms in time to sustain her drooping form; and the wild'shriek of agony that burst from the very depths of her heart was attributed to soiTow at parting with them-not him-to whom, a mo- ment before, she had paid her parting regards with so much apparent indifference. Stupefied with grief, she was lifted into the carriage and borne rapidly away. One moment she leaned forward to catch a last look at the spot, whose associations marked the brightest and bitterest eras of her life. Carrie was weeping convulsively upon her brother's bosom; and his face was still toward them; but its agonized expression and deadly pallor were lost in the distance. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 121 Deep sobs and groans burst from her, and her- hands were wrung frenziedly, as though her reason were entirely vanished. Her father was painfully agitated by witnessing her violent manifestations of sorrow, and twining his arms about her, sought to soothe her by saying that the separation from her beloved friends, was not one of endless duration, but that every summer she should return and spend many weeks in the charming valley of S---. Finding that this afforded no consolation, but on the con- trary, seemed to increase her sorrow to a yet more fearful height, he changed the theme, hoping to lead her thoughts away from the recent painful events. He told her of the various improvements he had made in their home during her absence, and of others contem- plated; but which he had delayed having put into execu- tion until they should receive her sanction. "You have not once asked me of Henri," said he, with a peculiar smile. "He is most impatient, I can assure you, for your arrival; and would have accompanied me, so anxious is he to see you, but that owing to his long absence, his busi- ness demanded his personal attention. Cannot you imag- ine his delighted surprise on finding. you, whom he parted with, a sickly little girl, grown into womanhood in the inte- rim, and so much changed and improved? Indeed, the change has been almost as wondrous, as that wrought by the good fairy, on the heroine of the pleasant little story, he used to read to you when you were children. "He, too, is vastly improved and polished by his foreign tour, and will have many interesting things to relate to you of the lands he visited; though he says his thoughts, true 4 " page: 122-123[View Page 122-123]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 122-123 122 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. as the needle to the pole, turned ever away from the beau- tiful scenes of the European continent, to a certain valley, hid in among the hills of the Ohio. He proposes to return thither with you at some future time, and perhaps, I too, may accompany you." He was talking to the winds-she heard not a word of all he had said--but still wept passionately and unrestrain- edly. Changing his, tone to one of surprise and reproach, he told her he was almost tempted to think her affection for her new friends had absorbed that for the two beings who were nearer, and therefore should be dearer to her than all others-, your father, and he who is so soon to be your husband." She was calmed instantaneously-looking up with a be- wildered stare, as though she did not rightly comprehend his meaning. "Forgive my unmerited reproaches," said her father.- "Well do I know that there are none who can ever be to you as the two who have, from your infancy, until a'brief period since, shared all your joys and sorrows. But I am overcome by your grief. Can you not, will you not cheer up for my sake, and smile agfain upon me as you did this morning, on my arrival? You do not know--none may ever know, how I have pined through all my dreary ill- ness; when the dark wings of death hovered closely over me, for the blessed moment to arrive when I should once more be sunned by your smiles, and cheered by your bright and joyous presence. Judge then of my sorrow, when at the very moment I am seeking to restore my song- bird to its native home, to fill with music the long deserted EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 123 place, I find it drooping and pining at being removed from a foreign clime." He continued talking of his physical afflictions, until Florence's generous heart became -touched by the recital, and by witnessing how rapidly the infirmities of age were coming upon him, and she stifled her sorrows to minister to his. If, when he had first spoken of her marriage to Henri Soule, she was about to declare her emphatic determination never to marry, and was only restrained by fears that he might suspect the fatal secret of her bosom, from that and the violence of her grief; she now resolved, in consid- eration of his infirmn health, to spare him the pain she saw a knowledge of her decision would occasion. Florence found that change of place did not free her from the restraint she was forced to be under at S , but that the mask there worn must still, and ever, press her weary brow. Amid the gay and lively society of a densely crowded boat, she must not attract attention by her pro- found and hopeless melancholy--her sorrow was of too sacred a nature to be exposed to the profane eyes of the coldly indifferent stranger. The excitement of the voyage, too, tended somewhat to dissipate her gloom. There was much to charm her as she floated over the soft bosom of the Ohio, in its varied scene of hill and dell, ravine and valley, cities, towns, villages, farms, and magnificent forests; its numerous tributaries pour- ing in their sparkling floods as incense to its beauty, until its weary wanderings are at length ended, and its existence lost on the bosom of the great Father--this forms a panorama ? page: 124-125[View Page 124-125]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 124-125 124 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. of the beautiful which would cause pleasure to the soul, however deeply steeped in sorrow. On, on she is borne, away to those genial skies, where the leaves wither not-nor fade! '; Green with the sweet earth's southern youth, And azure with her southern skies." Gauging Henri's affection by hers, she supposed a few weeks would undeceive him in regard to its nature; and the engagement, so foolishly entered into, would be severed by mutual consent. She, therefore, met him with the frank pleasure of a sister, who had long been absent. It was evening when their long and weary journey drew to a close; and Mr. Delisle, overcome with fatigue, was lifted from the carriage by his faithful servants, and borne into the drawing-room for a temporary repose before retir- ing to his chamber. Under the full blaze of the chandelier, Florence threw off her closely-vailed traveling bonnet and mantles, and stood before Henri Soule. He gazed on her breathlessly-seeking for some trace of the invalid girl he had parted with a few years since, in the splendid woman before him; then folding her long and closely to his bosom, his lips were pressed to every part of her beautiful face. "Harry! Harry!" exclaimed Florence, endeavoring to extricate herself from the embrace, whose warmth she could not return, and therefore from which she shrank in horror; " your welcome is by far too ardent-you will suf- focate me in your joy at this meeting." He led her to a seat, and sittingheside her, bent over EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 125 her with passionate tenderness, clasping -her hand in his while his other arm fondly girdled her waist; then with "Iove's own peculiar eloquence," he told her of the happiness the present moment afforded him--of all the tortures of his exile from her-unrelieved even by that sweet interchange of thought and feeling which correspondence affords, Tears of joy trickled down Mr. Delisle's withered cheek as his gaze rested on the young couple, and the low mur- mur of their voices reached him. Florence's eyes fell beneath Henry's passionate glances, for well she knew they could not meet, the response they sought. As the strength, and constancy, and tenderness of his affection became known to her, an additional weight of sorrow pressed her already aching heart. "Is it mine," thought she, "to plunge the poisoned arrow into his bosom? that bosom which, since my earliest infancy, has been my shield and refuge in trouble? 0 Harry! Harry! are you, too, doomed to wander the earth in 'the black darkness of hopeless despair?' Must my hand inflict the fatal wound?" ' She was fast losing her self-control; and sending her tea away untasted, she ordered a light and arose, saying: "I am weary--so weary, Harry; pardon me if, to-night, I pre- fer repose to your society." They went together to Mr. Delisle, who was still reclin- ing on the sofa; kneeling by his side, Florence wound her arms about him, kissing him several times, then murmured in low and choking tones: "Good night, papa." "Good night! my beloved children," said he; "the hap- piness of the present moment is almost too much for me. You are both restored to me, never, never to leave me more; page: 126-127[View Page 126-127]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 126-127 1 26 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. the clouds, which hovered darkly over me in your absence, have passed away, and I feel that my sun of life shall set in a halo of brightness." Florence was tremulous with agitation; Henri assisted her to arise, and accompanied her to the door. Withdraw- ing her arm from his, in half-audible tones she bade him "Good night." "You would not part thus coldly after our long separa- tion?" said he, half reproachfully. Her face was averted, therefore he saw not its anguished expression-saw not that its carnation was fled and a ghastly pallor overshadowed it-nor did he see, when it was turned slowly and mechanically round, that her lips quivered beneath the warm pressure of his. She reached the stairway, and leaned against the railing to collect her faltering strength ere she attempted to mount the steps to proceed to her chamber. A servant removed her clothes, and prepared her for the nightly couch, adjusting its satin coverings and curtains about her, after she retired. Thoughts of her own little room in the Seminary came to her, and of the times when, wearied by the exercises of the day, she, unaided, threw from her her clothes, and springing lightly into bed, with none to arrange its snowy coverlet, but which proved sweet as a " bed of Loses," was soon lost in the goldery mists of youth's drea]land. Then her thoughts returned to the gloomy presew "I am under the influence of some horrible dream. It cannot, cannot be reality." A strange sensation pervaded her-a kind of paralysis of her whole being. "I am suffocating," said she aloud, springing -up. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 127 (^Loop back these curtains, Fanny-I am unused to them- they suffocate me." Seeing the servant preparing to sleep in her chamber, she requested to be left alone--"You may sleep in. the adjoining room, and if I need your services, I shall let you know." ... Fanny thought strangely enough of the orders, for pre- vious to her young mistress' leaving home, she, or some other servant had always slept in her room. Once left alone, Florence arose from the bed, which de- spite its downy softness, was one of thorns to her, and sitting down by the window, through which the cold, gray, spectral light of a Niovember's night, was faintly gleaming, she bowed her head in hopeless sorrow. ( Oh! that I could weep out these burning tears, which, are scalding, searing my heart." It would at all times have been painful to one of Florence's generously sensitive nature, to inflict the pain consequent upon :a rejection of the homage of a truly de- voted heart-but when her'ovfn spirit was bowed to the dust by a similar sorrow, she shrank back in nervous horror from inflicting like suffering upon another, and espe- cially one so dear as Henry Soule. "But it cannot be, avoided--I rely on his -generous nature to release me from an engagement,made truly in good faith, but which subsequent events have taught me I am unable to fulfill. But not on you alone, Harry, my brother, will ;this fall grievously-My father!--Oh! how will he bear the disappointment of this, which is, and has been for years, he has told me, the dearest wish of his heart; and to whose fulfillment he looked forward even in Evv,;stt page: 128-129[View Page 128-129]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 128-129 128 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. my childhood, as the crowning glory of his life. In crush- ing these long cherished hopes, I shall 'bring down his gray hairs in sorrow to the tomb'-yes, I his darling may prove his murderess-and will they not suspect-" her lips closed tightly as though to shut out from human ear, that, they were about to divulge. "Never! never, shall my humiliation be known-any- thing-everything may be borne but that." She paced with a frenzied step, her gloomy chamber. Not a ray penetrated her mind's dark chaos to enlighten her how to act in a situation so strangely painful and trying. Exhausted, and almost fainting, she flung herself upon the bed and sank into fitful slumbers. When the first beams of the sun sported gayly amid the glossy leaves of the orange trees, kissing away the tears, night had wept in his absence. Florence awoke-the song of the lark had been, for the last three years, her signal for rising. But the stillness of death pervaded the lofty chambers of her father's mansion, and she remembered their breakfast hour was at a late period of the day. Again she sank to sleep-a deep, profound, lethargic sleep, as though caused by morphine, and from which she did not awaken until the sun had passed the meridian. The African nurse, who had in her childhood, supplied the place of her deceased mother, stood at the bedsidewith refreshments; and informed her that a number of old friends, waving all etiquette, had hastened to see her, and were then assembled in the drawing-room, awaiting impa- tiently her appearance. She arose with fainting limbs, and a leaden heart. As the events of the night passed in review before her, she EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 129 could now more clearly determine- the proper course to pursue. She would at once acquaint Henry with the utter impossibility of ever being more than a sister to him; and urge the necessity of keeping her father in ignorance of that fact, until his health was re-established. This decision partially relieved her mind ; and the fra- grant bath her nurse prepared for her, and the pleasurable anticipation of meeting old friends, quite revived her. With Fanny's assistance she was soon arrayed for their reception./ Meanwhile, Henry had risen earlier than usual; and after pacing the balcony impatiently for some hours, he entered the library, and endeavored to beguile away the time with a newspaper, until Florence should join him. At length when his patience was worn quite threadbare, the low rustle of silk, and the sound of a light footstep on the stairs, fell most musically on his ears. He advanced to the door to meet her, and drew her with gentle force into the library, that they might be a moment ae before joining their guests. After some inquiries in regard to the effect of her long and fatiguing journey upon her health; he expressed, in no very amiable terms, his displeasure at the intrusion of visitors upon their privacy. Florence submitted to his caresses with less reluctance than upon the preceding evening-doubtless, thinking of the bitter draught he must soon receive at her hands. The magnificent drawing-rooms of Mr. De Lisle, re-echoed with the sounds of laughter, and song, and conversation; and the evening was apparently a happy one to all. The sparkle of Florence's wit, gave zest to the conversation; page: 130-131[View Page 130-131]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 130-131 130 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. relieving it of the usual dull monotony of fashionable chat. Mr. De Lisle, with the fondness of parental love, could not resist calling the attention of all to the contrast between the blooming beauty, and free graceful motions of his daughter, and the leaden-eyed, sallow-cheeked, languish- ing movements of the young ladies who were present. "You now perceive the wisdom of my advice, Mrs. Hartgrove. Had Ann Maria and Lucy enjoyed the bene- fit of the northern breezes, they would now be as blooming, and as full of life and spirit as my Florence. Why, my dear madam, there is not a song-bird of the forest, with a gayer, lighter heart than she. Ill health is a natural ac- companiment to old age, and as such may be endured stoically; but its withering breath makes sad ravages on thespirits of youth." Florence was endeavoring to hold in leash her wandering thoughts, and to conceal her scorn of, and reply courteously to, the senseless commonplaces of one who sat beside her, when the remarks of her father, uttered with such a re- markable degree of self-felicitation, fell upon her ear. "Light heart!" thought she, with sarcastic bitterness, with what wondrous powers of divination, we mortals are endowed. What have I gained by my northern resi- dence? a - " "Miss De Lisle! Miss De Lisle!" was re-echoed from dif- ferent parts of the room, "obligingly favor us with another song from La Norma." There is more, perhaps, of truth in the trite old proverb, "appearances are oftentimes deceitful," than in the figur- ative expression, " the tree is known by its fruit. " The EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 131 tree may not always be known by its fruits. Often when, girdled to the death by the destroyer's ax, it puts forth fresh verdure, and every bough is crowned with "leafy honors." The sprkling glance, and the brilliant flush, are not more oft an indication of health, than-of the cankerworm of disease. Nor do the smile wreaths of the face, always betoken a heart enshrined in smiles; but are, as the outer surface of the Syrian apple-whose heart is ashes. Frequently, she whose laugh is most musical, whose smile is brightest, whose lips are freighted with joyous words, and mirth-provoking sentiments, bears within, a heart whose fires are wasted, and but the hardened lava of desolation remains. We but betray our ignorance then by saying, "How happy-or how miserable." Whose vision, save that of the "All-Seeing Eye," alone, may penetrate the surface into the heart's depths, and see it as it is. Ours is a world of seeming-scarce do we open our lips to exchange the commonplace civilities of society, without adding to the already swelling list of sins marked down against us in the Book of Life. In the social circle, he who is perchance "its bright particular star," who is pronounced the gay, the jovial, the happy hearted; is the restless, wretched ennui of the unexciting family circle; and whose innocent joy he paralyzes by his presence, And again, he who is oft accounted of the "gay world" as the coldly reserved, the discontented, the unhappy, is the glorious sun of some domestic world, to whom youth looks up for light to guide its wayward steps-the middle aged for strength and sup- port in the dark conflicts of life-and in whose rays even old age basks pleasantly. page: 132-133[View Page 132-133]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 132-133 132 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. CHAPTER X. Proud, beautiful, she boweth down Beneath one deep despair; Youth lingers on her lovely cheek, It only lingers there- She will command herself and bear The doom by fate assigned; In natures high as hers, the ieart Is mastered by the mind. But not the less 'tis desolate, All lofty thoughts and dreams; The poetry with whose deep life All stronger feeling teems, These aggravate the ill, and give A misery of their own, The gifted spirit suffers much, To common ones unknown, I am gay-but such a light-shines upon the grave by night. FOR several succeeding weeks, the festivities in honor of her return occupied all of Florence's time, save the small remnant devoted to repose-but the stillness of that night time, was most often broken by half smothered groans, and sighs of agony. Even tears-" delicious tears, the heart's own dew," were denied her; there were none to re- lieve her arid grief. Nor was the present gay season, one in which to have an explanation with Harry. Full too well was she aware of the desolation of spirit it would cause; and she looked forward to the result on one of so ardent and inflammable a EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 133 temperament, with painful, and daily increasing appre- hensions. 'And my father too-my stricken, suffering father-oh! what must be his indignation, on learning that his child- the 'last scion' of his proud and honorable line, after hav- ing for years, encouraged the love of one whom he deems as most worthy of her-now basely deserts him-rejecting his love-and wasting the swelling tide of her affections upon one whom he looks down on with scorn as beneath her; but who," she added, with a most beautiful enthusiasm, "is as far, far above her in all the essentials of true eleva- tion, as are those 'starry hosts of Heaven' above the noisome earth. At all hazards," said she, after a long and fearful pause, " he must not yet know of this-he is too feeble to bear an accession of troubles." Returning late one evening from a grand dinner party, she and Harry, as was their usual custom before retiring, went to the chamber of the invalid. Florence with an ap- parent recklessness of animal spirits, hoping perhaps, to relieve the monotony of the sick room; or more, perhaps, to conceal the wild fires that Aere consuming the spring- time verdure of her heart, gave a most graphic and amus- ing description of the occurrences of the evening-bringing all her powers of ridicule, to bear on the attentions of some "Iuckless wights," whose milk-and-water brains, and highly susceptible hearts, had been quite upset by her dazzling beauty. Her father smilingly listened to their gay and animated conversation; quite forgetful of his afflictions, in partici- pating in the happiness of these young and lovng hearts, as he thought, and replied; "Ah! well Florie, you do well page: 134-135[View Page 134-135]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 134-135 134 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. ? to laugh to scorn, the love of these enamored swains, secure as you are in Harry's love-and surely the proudest maiden in Christendom might well exult over such a treasure. Do you know, Henry, there is no one whom I ever saw or knew, save yourself, on whom I would freely bestow my heart's jewel. But you will bear with her, if she be at times somewhat willful and impetuous, knowing that the fault is mine, not hers. Let her errors rest on my head, for I have spoiled her. Language fails me to express the intense happiness of this hour; for now, the doubts, and fears, and anxieties, which for years oppressed me, are flung aside, since I see you loving and happy- all in all to each other-I may laugh at those foolish fears now, Henry; but when you were children, dearly, much as I longed for your union when you should arrive at the proper age, I dared not express my wishes, lest you might rebel against them; might turn from my fragile and languish- ing flower, to one of greater beauty and brilliancy-or that Florence, with that perverse and willful little temper of hers, might refuse to submit to my dictation. But all things have conspired to my heart's satisfaction; and as my sands of life are running low, I would, ere I go hence, witness the final consummation of my desires." Florence gazed wildly-heart-breakingly upon him, as he continued to urge their immediate union; then her head drooped forward like a leaden weight to her hands, and her whole frame was violently convulsed for a moment- then became still and calm, as though suddenly changed into marble. She did not hear Harry's ardent expressions of gratitude to Mr. De Lisle, nor his solemn promise of how sacredjy he EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 135 would guard the treasure given to him, nor his eloquent appeal to her, that as all things were now ready, their mar- riage should no longer be delayed. All unheeding, she knew not that they were waiting a reply. At length, Mr. De Lisle, somewhat alarmed at her silenti agony, placed his hand on her bowed head, and ainquired; "What have I said, Florence, to affect you thus?"' 'Sto:wask roused from her stupefaction, and with the quick intiiitioi of woman, saw the only means by which their attentioih might' be 'directedfrom its true cause, and the proposed union indefinitely-postpohedi ' Lifting her blanched face' upward, shy :exclaimied?"You must not-shall not speak 'to me- bf adying, ;ppa. The thought frenzies me"-then twining her arms about him lovingly, she pressed her soft cheek closely to his; and as tears started to her wildly brilliant eyes, she continued with an effort to smile through them, "I cannot but smile, papa, at your ideas of woman's destiny. You seem to think she was created just to be a delver in books for a certain length of time, and then immediately enter into bonds matrimonial. How shameful of you, after having condemned me to the dreary monotony of a boarding- school life, for three years, to insist, at the moment of my emancipation, on my marrying and 'settling down,' as the old folks say-thereby depriving me of tasting the plea- sures which are so highly enjoyed at my age. Your fond- ness for me has blinded you to my imperfections-I am not, dear papa, superior to'that weakness of my sex, .which sighs for unlimited conquest over yours. You and Henry would have me think I am beautiful-now I would test the power (so highly lauded by you) of these charms, bn j page: 136-137[View Page 136-137]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 136-137 136 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. the lords of creation.' I used to regale myself during my gloomy incarceration, with the idea, of a future series of brilliant conquests in the gay world, and I cannot forego these anticipated delights. Cannot, cannot acquiesce in your proposition." "We will accompany Col. Le Grand's family to the city;" said she, with a most rapid enunciation, s" and while I am pursuing my work of destruction and Harry is luxuri- ating in the brilliant smiles, and melting glances of our southern belles--the society of your old and valued friends who reside there--and above all the eminent services of Dr. R--, will completely restore you to health and spirits; and when spring returns, I shall, after having wept a few tears, a la Alexander, at my perfect and entire victory, return home, and----" She paused, her lips refusing to utter the base falsehood of her consent to marry Henry Soul6. "Well, well, Florie," said the old gentleman, "be it as you wish, provided it receives Henry's approbation--I shall be governed alone by his decision. What say you, Harry, my boy?--Will you not fear to trust Florence, lest in her warfare on hearts, her own receive a wound from some un- expected quarter!" "Trust her!" said he, with enthusiasm; "anywhere- anywhere; after a trial of three years, what have I to fear, especially as I shall be near and on the alert to ward off the attack-let it come from whence it may?" "Ha! ha! ha!"Mr. De Lisle laughed immoderately; "three years' trial!-do you call that a test of constancy? It would, indeed, have been a most difficult matter for Florence to have proven inconstant during her residence at EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 137 S-- . Were you not aware that masculines were reli- giously excluded from the precintts of the seminary-with a single exception, Mrs. Ormond's brother and he was but a country parson?" Florence's head had drooped, with anguish and contrition, upon her father's shoulder at Henry's generous and enthu- siastic expression of confidence in her, who had proved so base a recreant; but when her father dared to speak, even in a manner so slightly contemptuous of him, who was en- shrined in her "heart of hearts," and loved with an idol- atry so passionate; every drop of her proud and haughty blood was aroused and rushed in indignant torrents through her veins. "Country parson! would you call him, deridingly? What but his own lofty scorn of the world's applause has made him such? Possessed of an intellect so glorious--an elo- quence so irresistible-of an influence so ennobling-:and of a heart, the birthplace of every pure, and noble, and honorable sentiment-well, indeed, were it for your sex, did it number more such as he, even though they were ]l!l ' country parsons!'" - ;' She had risen in the energy of her defense againstl the contempt cast upon her lover, and stood proudly up--I KhT lips arching in scorn-her eyes flashing--her nostrils slightly distended and her whole frame quivering with indignation. Though she appeared in the character of a Mariana-her dress, attitude, and manner were those of a Queen Regnant. Having just returned from an aristocratic reunion, myriads of tiny gems glittered amid her magnificent braids of hair, and the velvet sleeve falling back from her arm, uplifted in page: 138-139[View Page 138-139]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 138-139 138 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. speaking, revealed its polished surface resplendent with similar ornaments. , Come, come, Florence, I did not mean to offend you," said her father, taking her hand, which was slightly extend- ed toward him; " but still, I don't believe a word of these fine things you have been saying about the preacher. He seemed a very gentlemanly sort of fellow, with more of information than one could expect; but it is certainly very evident that the wonderful influence for good, of which you spoke so rapturously, was lost upon you-else, had you learned to curb this hasty temper of yodrs, which, as my old friend the dean, says, Kindles into a flame At the slightest touch of blame,' of one of your friends. His example of lofty scorn for the vanities of earth seems equally disregarded by you; for here you are, even now, teaOin, me for a winter in the gay- est city of the Union. Hey! hey! Florie, had he been all that you would have us believe, I very much opine Miss Florence would have returned a much better girl. What say you Harry?" Florence's glance lowered with savage luster upon him, as though she expected that he, too, would join in derision of the lowly calling of her heart's idol; but her opinion had ever been a law to Henry from which he was never known to dissent; and notwithstanding there rested on his darkly, handsome features a shade like the coming of a far-off storm, he replied: "I agree with Florence, that it is not the calling that dignifies the man, but the contrary; and talent and worth, though they be found in the lowest rank EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 139 of society, are entitled to as much, and perhaps more, P respect than where they exist in polished circles. I do not anticipate finding anywhere a more dangerous rival than the one she has just now described." How her heart blessed him for those words; for she knew that owing to the peculiar views in which those are edu- cated who occupy his elevated position in life, he might most naturally have scoffed at the humble station of Mr. Neville. Unwilling to prolong the conversation, which had taken so strange and unexpected a turn, she withdrew her hand from her father's, and without deigning to bestow the accustomed nightly salutation, turned away to seek her chamber. As she passed Henri, with far more tenderness than usual, she laid her hand gently on his shoulder, and bending over, pressed her lips to his brow--her eyes speak- ing the thanks her lips dared not. Then perceiving his clouded visage, she said, with a smile, whose fascinations were irresistible, to poor Henri: "Harry, to come back to the starting point of our conver- versation, you do not object to my proposed visit to New Orleans? Do not I risk quite as much as you? How do I know, but that some irare and radiant' maiden may lay siege to your heart, and you will be vowing and declaring to me, that all your professed love was but a boyish enthu- siasm; and that, though you are perfectly willing to be my brother-'that is all, and nothing more.' " There was more of hope in her expression and tone than Florence wot of. She did not pause for a reply, but hast- ened away. "Fanny," said she, "you may go to your room-I do not wish to retire for some hours, and when I page: 140-141[View Page 140-141]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 140-141 "O EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. do, thanks to my northern residence, I can do so without your assistance." The well-trained servant, as though divining her mistress' wishes by intuition, mellowed down the rays of the lamp to the shade most soothing to the eye, and placing several richly-bound volumes upon the marble table which occu- pied the center of the room, drew up a large fauteuil, and then retired. Florence sank into the chair-her beautiful features becoming distorted and rigid--then throwing herself wildly upon her knees, she buried her face in its crimson cushion. "Oh! I would pray-pray," she exclaimed in frenzied accents, "that my soul might pass from out this dark eclipse-I am enshrouded in gloom-whithersoever I turn my gaze, there is naught but darkness-deep, impenetrable darkness! "Better," added she, bitterly, " did I pray for forgive- ness of sin. How wretchedly depraved have I becon!- a mere living falsehood - deception marks my every adt- my lips are stained with falsehood! With what a- miser- able subterfuge did I this evening delude my father, and my poor, wronged Harry. Harry! -Harry! thou hast nestled to thy bosom a viper!-thou knowest not the base treachery of her whom thou dost endearingly call the 'bright star of thy soul!' "Blighted all-all-all their hopes and my own happi- ness! Oh! why did I not with that fiankness - once a part of my nature-tell thee of thy misplaced confidence- of my unworthiness of thy love-instead of deferring the fatal hour, by cruel falsehoods, and suffering thee to hope EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 141 on for that which may never be? My soul is perjured- darkened all with crime. Conquest! Hsigh for conquest? how base a falsity! Vain, vain, were the homage of a world, while thine is withheld. I pine for the gay world? I, who have sunned myself in thy glorious intellect-pine for the frivolities of fashionable life-for the fulsome flatte- ries of its pigmies? How monstrous a fabrication! Truly am I become a loathsome, despicable, wretched being. Not alone have I to mourn over the destruction of earth's best and brightest hopes-but for the loss of all that was good and noble in my character." Large drops clustered upon her brow, and she was, from time to time, nervously convulsed. When her excitement gradually gave way, she sought to still the murmurings of conscience, by saying: "If I have deceived them, it was in mercy to my father, who is all unable to bear this blow at present. And Harry-my noble, generous brother-yes, in the bewildering whirl of fashionable society, I shall dash from me all thoughts of him who has usurped thy place, and my heart, mayhap, may resume its allegiance to thee." An expression of scorn swept over her features, which plainly indicated that her heart refused its credence to the sentiments just uttered. "I have deceived others, suc- cessfully, but what madness to seek to deceive myself- never may his image be supplanted by another! But I may say to Harry, however, at a future time, that I at least made the effort to become worthy of his affection, but that my heart refused all self-control." Still kneeling, her face reposing on the rich cushion of the chair - her dark, velvet dress, sweeping in graceful page: 142-143[View Page 142-143]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 142-143 "2 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. folds about her, and the gems glittering amid the dishev- eled masses of hair, and on her beautiful arms, which seemed stretched out in the very helplessness of despair- the worn and overtaxed powers of the maiden, gradually succumbed to the mystic influence of sleep. Those costly gems blazed and flickered in cold brilliancy beneath the rays of the lamp, as though in very mockery of that young face, all written over with the traces of a broken heart. In accordance with Carrie's oft-repeated request, she had written her of their arrival. Strange it was, that writing to one so beloved, should have seemed so arduous a task. Several vain attempts were made, when at last, with ner- vous energy, she plunged the golden pen into the dark fluid and wrote rapidly: "MY DARLING CARRIE- "In the midst of the congratulations of my friends, I have but a moment to inform you of the safe and pleasant termination of our journey. They tell me I have grown- improved - changed - changed I truly am-but whatever betides, be assured, dearest, there can be no change ever, in my sentiments of regard for you. "With kind love to all, I am, as ever, FLORENCE DE LISLE. This laconic epistle received a lengthy response - one breathing in every sentence, Carrie's sorrow for the loss of her friend, and closed with a gentle reproof for the brevity of her letter: "Why did you not give re a mi- nute description of your voyage?" "' A description of my voyage!' Who may write with EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 143 a brain of fire?" said Florence, vehemently, a whirl of emotions, aroused by Carrie's letter, surging wildly in her bosom. Its reply was briefly written, as before. With many as- surances of gratitude for her kind remembrance, she in- formed her of her immediate departure for a winter's resi- dence in the gay metropolis of the South. The names of Mr. De Lisle and daughter, and Henry Soule, were duly registered at the "St. Charles," and a suite of apartments in that magnificent hotel secured for the winter. The cup of pleasure was now drained to the dregs, by Florence, but it contained no drops of balm to heal her stricken soul. All hearts bowed at the shrine of the gifted and fascinating young heiress, but frequently, while the music of her laugh seemed yet to linger in the festive hall, and her fascinations were still over the spirits of those pre- sent, and all were speaking of her enviable position-with beauty, and talent, and wealth-she had flown, perchance, from the gay and brilliant throng, and, secure from obser- vation, by the turned key of her chamber -would dash, with violence, the jewels from her brow and person, and, sinking down upon an ottoman, with clasped hands, and cheeks from which the rich carnation was drenched out, she would sit hour after hour-her wild, despairing glance fixed on vacancy. Sometimes her lips would move, and, -in low, broken tones, she would murmur-"Do all love? all admire save thee-thee alone, whose love my soul craves?" "Henry," said Mr. De Lisle, one morning, "you must really interdict Florence's going out so frequently; do you page: 144-145[View Page 144-145]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 144-145 "4 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. not see the sad ravages of dissipation in her pallid cheek, and daily increasing languor? it is only when flushed by the excitement of the ball-room that her cheek resumes its bloom, and her step its elasticity; this excessive dissipation must be checked. Come, Florie, dearest, will not you and Henry spend this evening quietly at home with me? its repose ill charm you, by very contrast. Colonel Ingersoll has promised to drop in, and we will have a pleasant little game of cards, all to ourselves; and will close the evening with some of your charming songs." Florence's lips quivered, and a momentary mist gathered upon her long, dark lashes. Dearly well I should like to accept your kind invitation, dear Papa; but I have yielded to Mrs. Hampden's earnest solicitation to take part in her tableau vivant; she is anxious that it should be the most brilliant affair of the season, and I could not refuse, after all her kind attentions to us-to add, by my fascinations, as she was pleased to call them, to the pleasures of her entertainment." On looking over the list of Mrs. Hampden's tableau, Flo- rence at once decided upon one of a most gloomy and tragic character; and could not be dissuaded by her admiring friends, to abandon it for one which would enhance her brilliant clharms. The scene was this-on a dreary, jutting rock, at whose base a lake was sleeping, or rather whose laughing waves seemed stilled into repose by the awful tragedy about to be enacted through its instrumentality- a maiden in the full meridian splendor of womanhood, paused for a moment, with hands clasped, and eyes turned imploringly Heaven- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 145 ward, ere the fatal leap was taken, which would forever steel her heart to the woe, of the base desertion of her lover. The wealth and fashion of the city were assembled in Mrs. Hampden's drawing-rooms, anticipating more than an usual degree of pleasure from the varied character of the amusements for the evening; and there is no place in the whole extent of our country, where amusements of all kinds are enjoyed with so exquisite a relish, as in the southern metropolis. The spirit of its European founders still lingers there-causing its inhabitants to be a distinctive people from our countrymen. Several tableaux were exhibited, and vastly enjoyed; then it was rumored that Florence De Lisle would appear in the next; and the excitement became intense, as the moment drew near for the appearance of the acknowledged "Queen of Beauty" of the season. "The curtain drew up, and the scene was perfect in all respects, save that Florence, instead of casting her eyes imploringly upward, fixed them yearningly on the- lake be- neath her. There was much in the character she repre- sented to enlist her feelings. The hopeless sorrow, which had nerved the timid heart of the girl for the desperate act, found an echo in her own breast; and quite forgetful that she was but enacting a part, in a gay and brilliant as- sembly, she gazed on the lake as though it were a reality, and longed to wrap the mantle of its waves about her, in the (' long, deep sleep, that knoweth no awakening." As the curtain was falling before her, concealing her from the breathlessly admiring throng, her eyes were lifted mechanically, and encountered a glance so full of 13 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 146-147 "6 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. deep and earnest sympathy, it aroused her heart from its torpor. Every page of that mysterious volume-the heart, had been read and re-read with a closely scrutinizing eye by the stranger; and his glance penetrated at once the thin disguise, and detected the broken-hearted woman in one whom others recognized as a brilliant and enviable belle. Once more amid the gay and festive scene--"the admired of all admirers," Florence, endeavored to rally her spirits, and reply to the compliments raining upon her in very torrents; but a mist would gather, from time to time, upon her wildly-brilliant eyes, which strangely falsified the smile lingering upon her rich lips. That glance of sympathy from the stranger eye, falling upon the parched and arid desert of her heart, unsealed its fountains, and she longed to be alone, that she might weep bitter, but relieving tears. "Harry," said she, taking advantage of the confusion which preceded the preparations for dancing, " take me to the window,"-the heat and closeness of the room are op- pressive." Gathering the heavy drapery over her, she leaned out of the window; it was a relief to turn from the brilliant lights within, to the darkness without. The damp, chill night air bathed her burning brow, soothingly; but there was no "healing on its wings" for the sickened heart. A sensa- tion of faintness came over her-"Order the carriage, Har- ry," she gasped, " take me hence 1" Amid the confusion of voices around her, one most mu- sically sweet and girlish, pronouncing her own name, called back her half-vanished senses. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 147 "Cousin George," it exclaimed, "I have been seeking for you, to offer my apologies for having dragged you to a place so little in accordance with your tastes. You have been doing penance all the evening, I surmise, for a foolish whim of mine; doubtless finding nothing in this festive scene half so delightful as the society of the silently-beau- tiful occupants of your studio. I had hoped that Miss De Lisle's exquisite tableau would compensate you for the (to you) disgusting frivolities of a fashionable party--and would furnish you with a model for some future work of art, which would immortalize your name. But it was a miserable failure. Instead of casting her eyes upward, as if to implore forgiveness for the rash act premeditated, she actually stared into the lake, as though she were suddenly seized with a desire for a bath in its placid waters. I am most grievously disappointed-was wholly unprepared for such afaux pas. I could not associate imperfection in any degree with the proud and peerless Florence." "Failure," said he, "do you call that a failure? why it was the veriest reality. Why should she lift her eyes in affected sorrow, when her soul was longing to have its wild fires extinguished in the depths of the lake upon which she gazed, forgetful at the moment that it was but an illusion! The failure, if such it can be called, was, that absorbed in the sorrow of her own bosom, she acted a natural part, instead of an assumed one, sweet coz." This was received with a burst of incredulous laughter. "You poet artistes have certainly the most monstrously absurd ideas of any men in existence," said the gentleman on whose arm the lady addressed was leaning. "Ever dreaming of broken hearts-this is assuredly the sublime of page: 148-149[View Page 148-149]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 148-149 "8 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. the ridiculous. Miss De Lisle, the beautiful, accomplished, fascinating heiress-the bethrothed bride of the wealthiest man in our parish, sighing to drown herself. I dare say, if she had any such silly thought, it was occasioned by sor- row for the hearts she has broken, not that her heart is in that deplorable condition. But I can clear her of having designedly wrought ruin upon a single heart-for on her first appearance in society, in mercy to our sex, and with a frankness which charmed by its novelty, she admitted her long standing engagement to Mr. Soule ; so if any of us have been silly enough to fall in love with her charming self the sin rests on our own heads. Now what have you to say?" "Merely, that it may be owing to her 'early engagement,' that her life is withered in its spring-time! But it is more probably owing to the vanity of her woman's heart, Like many another weak, vain creature, she has, I conjecture, made a wreck of her happiness for the eclat, of this wealthy and aristocratic match-scorning some humbler alliance, to which the better feelings of her heart incline her. Anna, my sweet cousin, let me undeceive you as to the happiness of this brilliant belle, lest your young and guileless heart, may sigh for a destiny apparently bright as hers. I have watched her closely, this evening, and my first im- pression, when I saw her in the tableau you so much con- demn, has been confirmed. "I at once detected a spirit, desolated by some mighty whirlwind of passion; and the glance that rested on that mimic lake, told of a soul pining to be freed its earthly shackles. Her restless glances, and nervous gayety, since she has joined the gay throng, also indicate plainly, that she is seeking, in the excitements of the fashionable world, EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 149 to stifle sorrow. But it may not be--I tell you, dearest, that jeweled brow, is so racked with agony-that ap- parently happy heart, so seared with grief, that the most abject rag-gatherer's condition, is far more enviable than hers. The vulture of despair, has fastened his beak on her heart-to be removed nevermore, I fear. I cannot choose but pity her, although her own hands, doubtless, have forged those galling chains. Anna, Anna, beware of trampling the gold of the heart, beneath your feet, and exalting the gold of earth in its stead." Henry now advanced through the crowd, and pushing aside the curtain that concealed her from view, drew Florence forth. At the instant she emerged from her se- clusion, the young artist also turned to move away. He looked up--and the glance that met his, was so wildly im- ploring, it seemed almost to utter-"Spare me-in mercy spare me," that unconsciously, he bowed as if in answer to its prayer; his heart deeply wrung at having added to her anguish, by his exposition of her wretchedness and severe strictures as to its cause. Henry was alarmed at her agitation, but to his questions concerning it, she replied, "My head- aches violently-I feel as though I am going to be very ill." When Florence reached home she indulged in a long fit of weeping--the first for several months. It was the artist's glance, which had touched her heart, and opened its long pent-up fountains. She was not aware of her com- plete abandonment in the tableau, until after having over- heard his remarks. "But I am not so base as he imag- ines. Though truly he discovered the festering wound ini my bosom, which others have failed to see, I have not page: 150-151[View Page 150-151]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 150-151 150 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. bartered the wealth of the heart, for the base dust of earth-my love was far, far above all earthly considera- tions-and had the offer been mine, it was the palace I should have scorned, for the humble home blessed by his presence." "Oh! those nights of agony-and days of gloom I When on the weary night, dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone." The day was more than half expired when Florence unclosed her eyes, swollen almost to bursting, by her recent flood of grief. Fanny was arranging an exquisite bouquet, in a silver vase upon the table. The delicate perfume of the flowers pervaded the apartment, and soothingly greeted her exhausted senses. On perceiving that her mistress was observing her, the girl brought it to the bedside, and holding it up admir- ingly to her view, said; "Master Harry sent it-and here is the note." Florence's languid glance brightened for a moment as it rested on the beauteous buds and blossoms-then turning sadly away, she drew forth the card from its perfumed envelope. It was a few, passionate expressions of sorrow for her illness of the preceding evening, with earnest hopes that she was now recovered from it. ( But do not, dear- est, if you are ill, let any false scruples preclude me from your bedside. Am I not your affianced husband T then whose hand but mine should minister to your sufferings?" Large drops gathered fast, and coursed over her pallid cheek--"Harry-Harry," she inwardly murmured, "thou hast conquered at last-yes, truly art thou my affianced husband, and though my heart grows chill, as with the EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 151 mildew of death at the thought, yet still I will be thy wife-thyfaithful wife, if not a loving one. I cannot be more wretched than I am--and I would spare thee, and my father. A few more months, and this aching heart will have found rest-deep, calm, and profound rest, beneath the clods of the valley-but while it continues to throb, thy happiness, and that of my father shall be its only care. Thy long years of devoted tenderness, and my father's wishes alike demand the sacrifice." "Go to Harry, this instant," said she to Fanny, who e !ered with refreshments, for her, "and say that I am better, and will join him in the parlor this evening--say also to my father, to order the carriage at twelve to- morrow-I would return to Bellefontaine-and do you, Fanny, hasten to get all things in readiness-I long to be at home." Mr. De Lisle was not at all surprised at the suddenness of her desire to return home--on the contrary, owing to her natural impulsiveness, he had been expecting it for some- time. " It is useless, Harry my hoy, for us to attempt to coerce Florence. Her own good sense will always bring her right in the end-I have been heartily weary of the bustle of the city for weeks-pining for the sweet repose of Belle- fontaine-but if I had proposed returning thither,t she would have rebelled against it--and now vou see, she has determined to go of her own choice. Her nature is so loftily independent, it chafes at the slightest control. But you know her, Harry, anid there is not such another on the earth, if I have spoiled her a little," said he, tears of fond affection glistening in his eyes. page: 152-153[View Page 152-153]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 152-153 152 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. There is something beautiful even in the weaknesses of parental love-something which we cannot but admire, even though we may condemn. Fanny, with skillful hands, bathed the calm, sad face of her mistress in perfumed waters, seeking to remove the traces of suffering from it. When her toilette was finished, and Florence arose to go down to the parlor, her tremulous limbs almost refused their support, and she was forced to lean upon the shoulder of the servant, while with slow and feeble steps she proceeded to the door. Henry, with anxious solicitude, had paced the hall in front of her chamber, during the greater part of the day, and now hastened forward to receive the precious' burden from Fanny's arm. He drew her closely to his bosom, gazing with a searching glance, upon her calm and passive features, on which he did not, or would not see the seal of the icy breath of despair. He was alarmed at its deadly pallor, and exclaimed; "You have suffered much through the night, dearest, and I fear you are still too unwell to leave your chamber." i"No, no;" she answered, "I would see my father about our journey to-morrow." The room was soon filled with "callers," to discuss the merits of the tableau vivant, of the preceding evening; and all expressed their surprise and regret, on hearing of Florence's sudden determination to leave the city. "But cannot we detain you a short time longer, Miss De Lisle?" said a gentleman to her. "To-morrow is the Sabbath, and you should go to chfurch ere you leave, and get absolution for all the ills you have wrought on my un- fortunate sex." EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 153 Mr. De Lisle laughed heartily, and replied; "I dare wager any amount, you could not get Florie to church- she was quite surfeited' with church-going during her school days." This was said with a merry twinkle of the eye, as though he expected to tantalize her, or provoke her. There was nothing he so much enjoyed as Florence's bursts of passion in defense of that which she deemed worthy of it; or, in condemnation of wrong. But it had no effect, in the pre- sent instance, except perhaps to add slightly to her pallor, and she calmly replied : "Do not seek to detain me, Mr. Carlton; I am pining for the orange groves, whose blossoms and birds are now, I surmise, filling the air of Bellefontaine with odors and songs. I am a very child in my love for flowers and birds." "Ah! indeed, Miss De Lisle; I have been suspecting this long time that there was a deep undercurrent of poetry in your nature; and my conjecture is confirmed by your present declaration of love for birds and flowers, and sweet odors, all of which light material constitutes the food of poets. But your enviable position in life will prove a bar- rier to your fame as a poetess, should you have any aspira- tions that way. The heart must be crushed, ere, like the flower, it yields its richest perfume. It was the hand of grief, that wove the chaplet of fame which encircles the brow of Hemans, Landon, and a host of others." At length the weary evening drew to a close; and as all were expressing their sorrowful regrets at parting, one, a particular friend, said, "Farewell, dearest; but where shall page: 154-155[View Page 154-155]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 154-155 154 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. we meet you this summer, ma belle? at Saratoga, Newport, or Harrodsburgh?' "I know not-papa will decide." "I rather suspect," said he, " before that season arrives, papa will no longer have the right to decide upon your movements." "True," said she, after a slight pause, "I shall then be guided by Harry's wishes." The last adieus were made, and Florence, with the wounds in her bosom bleeding afresh, from the mental inquisition of the evening, again sought the solitude of her chamber. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 155 CHAPTER XI. "S he might not meet the gaze the other sent upon her beauty. For to her downcast eyes were given The azure hue of an April heaven; The softening of those sunny hours, By passing shadows, and by showers. Light her step was, and her voice Said unto the air, rejoice; And her light laugh's silvery breaking, Sounded like the lark's first waking. Thou art too fay-like, and too fair, For our more common, clouded air. Beauty, such as thine, belongs To a world of dreams and songs." THE glance of the young artist haunted Florence for many months; and, strangely enough, not a great while afterward, a singular coincidence revealed to him the cause of her wretchedness. He was journeying through the country, in the prosecu- tion of his loved vocation, when the enchanting scenery of S -valley burst upon his delighted vision, and he re- solved to transfer its picturesque charms to canvas. He selected the "Arm Chair" as the finest point of observation from which to take a sketch of the valley; and with his whole soul thrilling under the influence of the beautiful, the charming creation of his genius grew rapidly toward perfection. He was startled from his absorption, one day, by the sound of a voice, soft and sweetly melodious; at times page: 156-157[View Page 156-157]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 156-157 156 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. bursting forth into snatches of song, then again relapsing into conversation; and the reader will not be surprised that he should have dropped his pencil to gaze with breathless admiration, when informed that it was Carrie, sweet Car- rie Neville, who was approaching him - or, that he, who had been a dreamer of love, all his life, should, at that instant, have felt its first delicious breath upon his soul. Unconscious of the admiring gaze fixed upon her, Carrie continued to ascend the hill. She had taken her straw hat from her head, and was swinging it, with careless grace, back and forth. The vernal air had swept the clustering ringlets back from ler fair, young, girlish brow; and the exercise of walking had given to the waxen transparency of her complexion, a tinge, delicately beautiful as that of the cleft rosebud. Her eyes - and had Carrie Neville's other features been coarse and irregular, those starry eyes of themselves, would have endowed her with a wondrous beauty--so soft, gentle, loving, and spirituelle was their expression, it was an angel's soul that glanced from them- her eyes were concentrated on those of her companion, with whom she was gayly conversing. Of the countenance of him who walked by her side, and who seemed listening, with pleased attention, to the bab- blings of her glad young spirit, the artiste's hasty glance detected that melancholy- the melancholy of some great and crushing sorrow-was its predominant characteristic. ji The handsome young artiste arose, and bowed grace- fully at their approach. When Carrie's eyes met his, there seemed a kind of magnetic telegraph established instantly between them, which traced, with wonderful dispatch, some startling and mysterious characters on her heart; her EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 157 face was suffused with crimson, her eyes drooped, and a slight agitation was visible in her manner. Hastily tying on her hat, she drew it over her face to conceal her embar- rassment, her heart fluttering like a prisoned bird, with a new and undefined feeling-half pleasure-half fear. There is truth in the doctrine of " love at first sight," notwithstanding the sneers of those coarser natures, who are incapable of experiencing such a feeling. In natures of high mental and moral refinement - of entire congeni- ality-there is an instantaneous recognition, and the soul leaps wildly with joy at having found its mate. The pastor, perceiving that he was a stranger in the val- ley, paused to offer some kind civilities; and, on observ- ing his occupation, requested permission to examine the sketch. a "See, Caroline, what a charming view of the valley-I perceive it to be the work of a master hand." Carrie's face brightened with pleasure, and she exclaimed?: "I have a sketch taken by a young female friend, from this very point." "Indeed! I should be most happy to see it." You can have that pleasure, sir, by walking down with us to the parsonage," said the pastor. The artist prepared, with unusual alacrity, to accept an invitation so agreeable. Calling his servant, who was lying on the margin of the stream, some distance above, and who, from an inactive life, was affected with the disease yclept "Spring Fever," he gave to his charge the materials-of his labor, and stepped to the side of Carrie Neville. Mr. Clifton was a most brilliant colloquist; gliding from topic to topic with polished ease; and by the time page: 158-159[View Page 158-159]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 158-159 158 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. they had reached the parsonage, his companionship proved so agreeable to the pastor, as to cause him to express a wish that their acquaintance might become more ex- tended. Carrie drew forth the sketch from her portfolio. It was taken by Florence De Lisle, a few months before her de- parture. The artist studied it with evident pleasuie. "There are traces of fine genius here-from whose pencil is it?" "Florence De Lisle's; a young lady from the south, who was a pupil for several years in my sister's institution." "Florence De Lisle," said he, musingly, "can it be the brilliant Belle of New Orleans?" "Yes, yes, I am sure it is," said Carrie, "she wrote me she had spent the winter there; and she is so magnificently beautiful, she would prove a belle in any circle. But do you know her?-Oh! tell me all about her-I am over- joyed at having met one who has seen her so recently; are not you also, brother?" He did not seem to have heard her question. His eyes, which were fixed on Mr. Clifton, expresssd the intense interest, with which he awaited his reply. "I did not become acquainted with Miss De Lisle, though I had the pleasure of meeting her at a grand soiree, to which I must plead guilty of having gone for no FI other purpose, than to judge for myself of the brillitnt gifts, I had heard from every lip, she possessed. Her beauty is of a most magnificent character, as you re- marked, and it has called forth compliments enough to have turned the strongest mind. But my heart refused its homage, to one plunged in the greatest excess of female EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 159 dissipation. There was not, in New Orleans, so ardent a votary at the shrine of 'Fashion,' as Miss De Lisle." The pastor could not restrain the sigh-the agonizing sigh--that convulsed his bosom. He arose and left the room. i AA ray of light penetrated the young artist's mind. "Miss Neville," said he, "did your brother see much of Miss De Lisle's society during her residence here?" "Yes-they were together nearly every day-he took great interest in her education." "Did he manifest a particular regard for her?" "Yes-Florence was a great favorite with him, and with all of us-we loved her very dearly." "Doubtless-but there are different kinds of regard." Carrie's eyes were lifted to his with a perplexed expres- sion, as though she had not a clear idea of his meaning. Her face crimsoned, and her eyes were instantly vailed with their long dark lashes-perhaps the glance that met hers, explained the kind of regard to which he alluded. I do not know," said she, thoughtfully, " Theodore has suffered such terrible depression of spirits since she left, that I have thought a hopeless affection for her, per- haps, might have caused it " "And had you reason to suppose the feeling mutual?" "Oh, no!-though Florence esteemed my brother highly, and never seemed so happy as when in his society, and used to chide him when he was detained from her, and tell him her lessons were positively incomprehensible, unless he was there to explain them-she was engaged to be married before she came here. This, my brother told me, page: 160-161[View Page 160-161]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 160-161 160 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. he ascertained some weeks before she left, through a letter from Mr. De Lisle." All was now clear to the artist- an early and im- prudent marriage engagement had caused their separation. "' But this must not be-shall not be," thought he. "This night I will acquaint Mr. Neville with her unhappiness; and to-morrow's post, shall convey a letter that will reunite these hearts, which are now pining in dreary exile from each other." "The last letter I received from Florence," said Carrie, breaking the silence-"4 contained the intelligence of her marriage, and departure for Europe." This was said in a low, gentle tone, but it came down like the ax of the guillotine, upon the bright anticipations the artist had indulged. Mr. Neville re-entered-he was a shade paler and sadder than before, but exerted himself to entertain his guest. Every chord of Clifton's generous heart, thrilled with sympathy for the pastor. He was agonized with con- trition, at having, though inadvertently, added to his already overwhelming sorrows, and now exerted all his brilliant conversational powers to charm away his woe. He told of his travels abroad--of his residence in the lands where the arts have attained their highest perfection; and finally closed, by expressing a wish, that the pastor and Carrie should accompany him to the city, and visit his "studio ;" which contained the collection of jewels he had brought with him from the classic shores of Southern Europe. The pastor gratefully accepted the kind proposition; EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 161 and when the evening drew to a close, and young Clifton was making his graceful adieus he gave him a cordial invitation to visit them often, while he remained in the valley. That night, the mischievous, meddlesome little god- Cupid.-sadly interfered with the rights of Morpheus, whose legitimate province it is to rule and reign over the night. Carrie Neville was restless-for the first time, her gentle soul resisted night's influences-she could not sleep. Her beautiful eyes were oft suffused with tears-tears caused by an excess of happiness-and she would murmur: "He is very agreeable -almost as much so as brother!" (her brother was her standard-of perfection). Then, as though apologizing to herself for this interest in a stranger, she would add, that "he had seen Florence and spoken of her, and that was why he proved so agreeable." Ah Carrie-Carrie I as the breath upon the polished surface of the glass, so does that slight deception stain thy pure and guileless soul. There must have existed some .peculiarly awakening in- fluence in the "Valley" that night, for Clifton too, mani- fested no disposition to retire. From the smile that played over his finely-wrought features, one might naturally sur- mise his cogitations to be of a most happy character-and in sooth they were. Strangely enough, without any search for, or expectation of, such a thing, he had found his long cherished ideal, to be a veritable little maiden, with a warm and loving heart. As he sat by the window, looking out upon the quiet beauty of the valley, on which the smile of the sweet spring-time was resting, his imagination " V page: 162-163[View Page 162-163]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 162-163 162 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. was weaving a bright woof of happiness-but through it there ran one dark thread-it was sorrow for the pastor's sorrow. An angel's face seemed hovering over him, and the soft, loving glances of a pair of eyes, "deeply, darkly, beautifully blue," bathed his soul in a flood of ecstasy. The acquaintance thus opportunely begun, matured ! rapidly. The extent and variety of young Clifton's infor- mation-the peculiar grace with which his warm imagina- tion invested every object which came within its range- caused his society to be highly appreciated by the pastor. His soul leaned on him for its short respites from melan- choly. To see her brother, even at brief intervals, somewhat like his former self, was to Carrie an unspeakable joy; and hopefully she looked forward to the time when happiness would again resume its empire in his breast. We are not positive as to the fact, but judge from ensuing circum-' stances, that before the expiration of a week, Carrie had found the artist's society not "almost," but far more "agreeable than brother's!." His vivacity and spirit, charmed her by very contrast, to the calm, even, dignified manner of her brother. An angel had come and stirred the waters of her gentle bosom, but with maidenly coyness, she sought to conceal the fact even from her own mental vision. Certain we are, she became the artist's guide ; conduct- ing him to all the most charming localities in the country around-scenes whose loveliness might ravish even the untutored soul of the savage. But frequently, after having ! EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 1.6 arrived at their point of destination, with memories singu. larly treacherous, they seemed entirely to lose sight of the object of which they were in search. Hours were spent in that sort of conversation, doubtless very delightful to them, but which we, in mercy, knowing how unpalatable it is to all save to the parties concerned, will spare, the reader the trouble of perusing. If the artist did not make any material advancement in the divine art of Raphael, during his summer's residence in the valley, he, at least, progressed astonishingly in a science somewhat allied to it. In the "Arm-chair" on the hillside, where two others once had sat, with hearts thrilling under the same influence, he breathed his love into Carrie's charmed ear, and was permitted to place its seal upon her fragrant lips. Theirs was a more blest and fortunate love than the other; for they were unfettered by previous en- gagements, and had arrived at an age to judge correctly of their sentiments, and of the necessary qualities in each to secure a harmonious and happy union. When the forests were clothed in the gorgeous colors of the approved "fall style,"' Carrie Neville had ceased to be-but Carrie Clifton was a yet more happy and joyous being than she. Carrie's marriage was like shutting off the last ray of sunlight from the parsonage; but though the pastor missed her gentle ministrations of love, not one atom of selfishness mingled in his participation of her hap- piness. Devoutly thankful wAs he that his gentle dove had folded her wings to rest upon a bosom so tenderly protect- ing-Nor did he seek to find another to fill,{he void inLis heart-that shrine was made sacred to one image alone- page: 164-165[View Page 164-165]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 164-165 164 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. but he had found that, which is an anchor to the soul in every trial, and could, with calm resignation think of that beloved one as the "bride of another," and pray for the happiness of their union; and in the faithful discharge of his duties, his life passed away calmly, placidly, and in a degree-happily. i EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 165 CHAPTER XII. "And a pleasing sound Came from a fountain- Less like the voice of sorrow than of love. In vain I seek from out the past Some cherished wreck to save; Affection, feeling, Hope are dead- My heart is its own grave. Alas that love, which is so sweet a thing, Should ever cause guilt, grief, or suffering." HAVING now disposed of our principal characters, we might bring our story to a close, but that we fear we have not yet sufficiently impressed our young readers withi he sad consequences arising from youthful marriage engage- ments-turn we then reluctantly away from the brief epi- sode of Carrie's love and wooing to resume the sad story of Florence's blighted love-reluctantly we say-for it is painful to dwell on the night-side of a picture which should have been bright as the sunbeam. Painful indeed is it to see the roses of Spring prematurely withered-the morning of life bereft of its glad hopes-its bright skies darkened into a midnight gloom. For a time after Florence's return from the city, she experienced a feeling of joy not known for many months before--this was owing to her being freed from the restraints and follies of the beau moizde, and -stored to the wild woods of her own home. Early as was the season, the genial temperature of the clime had filled the trees and page: 166-167[View Page 166-167]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 166-167 166 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. strewed the ground with flowers; and to one who so keenly appreciated and enjoyed the beauties of nature, there was that in the still solemnity of those dark, grand old forests, with their hills and dells and sparkling streams, which caused a temporary cessation of the wild fever of her heart. Much to the chagrin of her father and Harry, she wrought unweariedly with her own delicate hands in the garden; arranging and re-arranging the plants and vases in accordance with her own exquisite taste. Briefly, the novelty wore off, and the funereal pall again threw its somber shadows over her soul. With feverish restlessness she wandered through the lofty rooms of her splendid home. She sat down to the piano, and swept her fingers over the keys-but the tones awakened a host of painful memories. There was scarce a song she had not at some time sung for him-there was not one she and Carrie had not learned together. She fled hastily from it, and passing into the library, murmured: "Books, books! thou art a sovereign panacea for mental ills! Who may say that 'angels' visits are few and far between,' while books claim a place in the house- hold. Angels of mercy! sure thou art, given us to soothe us in the wretched journey of life. Thou Mentors of the heart! 'The burning soul, the burdened mind, In books alone companions find.' 1 will seek one that will call into execrcise all the powers of the intellect, and thus free me from these haunting and distracting memories." Listlessly she glanced from volume to volume, and with an abstracted manner selected one, and sat down in a richly- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 167 cushioned, antiquely-carved chair. The library, of all the rooms in that lofty pile of buildings, was the one most in accordance with Florence's refined and classic tastes; yet she seemed, at the present, wholly unaware of its claims to her regard-for she sat with the book unopened, gazing on vacancy. The soft, warm light which streamed through the stained windows, caused the exquisite busts and statues to seem almost "things of life." There were rows of shelves tow- ering one above-another, freighted with the wealth of mind, with which Time has become enriched in his triumphal march from the misty realms of early civilization to the present glorious era. Here might the soul hold sweet intercourse with the mighty intellects 'of the living as well as with those "who though dead, yet live"--secure from time's oblivion--" those whose names and fame are above the blight of earthly breath."' Rousing at length from her gloomy abstraction, she ex- claimed: "I am chilled by the ghastly presence of this statuary-I must seek a more cheering place to read." She re-entered the drawing-room and threw herself upon a low sofa that stood beneath an open casement. The breeze, which came murmurously through the exquisitely- wrought drapery, was steeped with the odors of that tropic clime; and the soft -plash of..the fountain's waters, falling into their marble :basin; was. heard soothingly without. There was the splendor of the East about her-everything to gratify the inner. and outer senses, yet was she-the young heiress of all this wealth--wretched-far, far more wretched than the sable-browed menials of the establish- ment, who bore the manacles of slavery. page: 168-169[View Page 168-169]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 168-169 168 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. Unconsciously the book fell from her, and lay half-buried in the rich tufting of the carpet-and her hands were clasped nervously upon her eyes, as though perversely to shut out from her gaze the surrounding beauty; but it was from that impulse, with which we instinctively close the eye when some horrible picture thrusts itself upon our mental vision. i A servant, who had just returned from the post-office, entered with letters, which he handed to her. In glancing over their superscriptions, Florence found one directed to herself in the graceful chirography of Carrie Neville. With a cry of joy, she pressed it to her lips, then she bethought herself, and returned the others to the servant, with direc- tions to leave them in the library until her father's return from his afternoon's ride. Carrie's letter was as usual, redolent with love for her friend, and grief for her loss. Florence's protracted silence called forth some gentle reproofs, but not a doubt or fear was expressed, that it was caused by an abatement of affection. Carrie could not for a moment harbor such a thought of her friend. She dwelt with affecting pleasure on many incidents of their school days, and told of all their favorite resorts- especially of the old chestnut, beneath whose protecting shade they had passed hours of unalloyed happiness. You remember the song we have so often sung together, in which the following verse occurs. Well Theo. and I may say to you, in those slightly altered words, "And now, although thou'rt gone, We go to our favorite tree, Thou dost not hear us sigh, Yet, yet we sigh for thee." EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 169 An electric flash passed over those beautiful features, and the expression they gave forth was that of the happy, joyous Florence of S-- valley. It was gone instantly- and they became distorted witl passion and grief. Crushing the letter within her fingers .she exclaimed vehemently; "Tis false!-false--he does not sigh for me-else why was my love rejected as a thing of scorn-thrown back upon my heart to corrode its life-strings-far, far more kind the blow which would have stilled its pulsation forever, than thus to have driven it forth to throb, throb, throb, with this crush- ing weight upon it." She sank back upon the couch, and buried her face in its crimson pillows. Then the memory of the loved and loving Carrie swept through her mind--"Yes, yes, my dar- ling Carrie, thou dost, indeed, pine for thy friend. The only sighs that ruffle the peaceful depths of thy young soul are those for thy lost Florence; and he--why should I censure him? Do not I know my unworthiness of the boon my soul craves? Vain presumption! Would the eagle mate with the earth-fowl? What mortal maiden dare aspire to the love of that nobly-gifted one?" She sobbed aloud-and Henry was beside her!"Flo1 rence," said he; "what has occurred in our absence to grieve you thus? you alarm me. Tell me whence the cause of this sorrow, that I may comfort you?" "Nothing, nothing, Harry-I have just received a long, long letter from my sweet friend, Carrie Neville, and I was pained to think I had acted so unkindly toward so true and tried a friend. I have wounded her feelings deeply by my long, cold silence--having written her but two hasty letters since my return; and they were, I regret to say, written 15 page: 170-171[View Page 170-171]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 170-171 170 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. previously to my going to New Orleans. My winter of gayety left no time at my disposal, to devote to my absent friends." Henry's glance seemed almost to imply that her plea was scarce a sufficient one for the heavy traces of grief her coun- tenance bore; but if such were his first thought, it was soon banished by others connected with the one absorbing object of his life, that of ministering to her happiness. He remembered the magic power of books over her in by-gone days, and now drew her into the library; and taking from thence a copy of Byron, led her out through the shady alleys of the garden to a small oriental temple, over which a Lamarque rose had thrown its mantle of green leaves and snowy blossoms, making it beautiful as a fairy's home. He turned to the pages in which the genius of the poet attains its best, and purest, and loftiest flights-to the delightful cantos of Childe Harold; pausing frequently, while reading, to give the results of his own observation of the interesting scenes there delineated. But Florence, I am free to confess that I saw them with an imperfect vision; a sort of magnetic influence, like that which points the needle ever to the pole, turned my thoughts from those delightful scenes, to the world beyond the bosom of the Atlantic, which held all that was dear in life to me. I long to view them again; and with you to accompany me the enjoyment would be superlatively great. Say, dearest, when shall our marriage take place? and shall not our bridal tour extend to Europe?" With a meekness, which of itself might have excited sus- picion that all was not right, it was so unlike the willful EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 171 Florence, she replied slowly and calmly; " all shall be as you and my father decide." Preparations of a magnificent character were made for the approaching nuptials. Mr. De Lisle would gratify the vanity of his doting heart, by having the bridal of his daugh- ter exceed, in splendor, that of any other which had ever occurred in their own, or the surrounding parishes. On the evening preceding her bridal Florence wrote the letter of which Carrie had spoken to Mr. Clifton.' She sat at the table--her arm resting on it, and her head pressed to her uplifted hand. The pen, poised above the snowy sheet, seemed reluctant to perform its duty. After a considerable length of time had passed, she murmured sadly, "Hence- forth I must forego even the pleasure of thy letters, dear Carrie-those sweet, soothing expressions of love, which were as balm to my bleeding spirit. I cannot sustain my part in the sad drama to which fate has destined me if this correspondence be continued. :Painful memories are re-, called by it-recalled-no, Oh, no! that cannot be recalled which is ever present. Carrie, Carrie, my beloved Carrie-- alas! and must I give thee up too? Yes, when the last tie is sundered, then may Time, the destroyer, efface the sweet and bitter recollections of the past-that past which must henceforth be a blank to me-of which it will be crime to think." A sense of duty demanded that all connection with her friends in S-- vale should at once and forever be broken off; and with rapid hand she penned the letter which would terminate her correspondence with Carrie-the only existing means of intercourse between them. Her lips 9ivered, and tears filled the silken fringes of page: 172-173[View Page 172-173]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 172-173 172 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. her large, sad eyes, and her whole frame was shaken as an aspen when she attempted to write to him, as it were, (for well she knew his eye would scan those pages) of her marriage. "Though I have not written to you for many months, dearest Carrie, there is not a day-I might more truly say an hour-that I do not think of you, and sigh at the fate whch brought us together, that our heart-strings might be- come entwined only to be torn apart, throbbing with anguish by a sad and final separation. I miss-how much, dear dar- rie, none may ever know-the gentle, soothing influence, which in times past, you were wont to exert over mywillful, wayward, impetuous nature. You spoke of all our loved haunts - made sacred to you by our past enjoyment of them-and particularly of the " chestnut." Do you know, Carrie, that I should love to be buried beneath it; and you-you would come-but why am I writing thus-it is of another subject I would speak. Before this reaches you I will have become the bride of Henry Soule. He has loved me from my clildhood with a passion deep and fervent as the most exacting heart could demand." (Somewhat of her for- mer pride dictated the latter sentence--he should know, that though his love had been withheld, another's was hers, of which even she, with all the inordinate cravings of her heart might be proud.) "Immediately after our bridal we take passage for Marseilles-a sea voyage having been recommended by our physician for my father's health, which, I regret to say, is still precarious. Our tour will extend throughout the continent of Europe, generally, and I cannot now say when we shall return, or where my new home will be located. Promise me, darling, in conclusion, EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 173 that you will not under any circumstances think you can ever cease to be dear to the heart of your classmate, Florence De Lisle." By leaving the time of her return, and her future resi- dence in doubt, Florence put a check to further communi- cations from her, without wounding her refined and exquisite sensibilities. The letter was sealed and sent. Florence wept until it seemed the lachrymal ducts were exhausted of their briny floods. Many months passed ere again a tear moistened the sorrows of her heart. It was Florence De Lisle's bridal eve! Fanny, in a flutter of delight, was arraying her in the style of magnifi- cence, befitting the bride of a millionaire, exclaiming, from time to time, on her own tardiness, "I'm so flustrated, I does everything wrong- my fingers is all thumbs, sure, this evening - I 's surely the stupidest colored woman in the State. Mas'er Henry will be clean tired out waitin' "- and so on. It is wonderful what an aversion the African race in America have to being called negroes, or "niggers," in its vulgarly abbreviated form -the term "colored people," though, has a smack of gentility about it quite grateful to their ears. "Mammy," Florence's nurse, had never felt her impor- tance quite so much in her life, as upon " her child's" wedding day. She moved about with as much alacrity as age, and the ponderous weight of flesh her limbs had to sustain, would admit of giving directions, and counter- manding them, perhaps, with the same breath. At length she mounted the stairs to the bridal chamber, page: 174-175[View Page 174-175]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 174-175 174 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. to give it its "polishing totuch," and from thence, proceeded to Florencc's room, and there witnessed, with a strong feel- ing of maternal pride, her enrobing for the bridal. She was delighllted with the richness of the bridal trous- seau,; and when the orange wreath was twined amid the raven tresses of the bride expectant, and the magnificent IIoniton vail swept in rich folds about her, the faithful crea- ture's admiration exceeded all bounds. "Look, loo, 1 my pet, and see how grand and beautiful you look," said she, adjusting the glass so as to give a re- flection of her entire form. Florence turned from it - a cold, sickening shudder per- vading her. Those snowy robes seemed as grave-clothes to her; and the wreath -alas! when last a wreath had pressed her brow, Ais hand had placed it there, and he had pronounced her beautiful. Why came that thought? "' And thrust itself between her and the light; WIhat bu ines. had it there at such a time?" Surely, there was no resemblance between that pale face ! and snowy ,wreath, and the blooming face and gorgeous wreath of that whilom time to call it up! Say to my father," said she to the servant, in calm, firm tones, "tthat I await his coming." She did not pro- nounce the name of hm so soon to be her husband. They came - Mr. De Lisle witlh more alacrity than was prudent; for he was now become a confirmed invalid. He placed the hand of his beloved child in that of Hen- ry's, antd while tears of joy glistened in his eye, he pro- nounced his blessings on them, and called the present the proudest and happiest mopent of his life. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 175 Henry, too; with all the ardor of a lover of those climes-- where the blood flows, like melted lava, through its chan- nels, breathed forth his rapture. The folding-doors were thrown wide apart, and the bril.. liant assembly remained motionless, while the holy man spoke those words which mergedwo beings into one. And "they shall be no more twain, but one," is the emphatic declaration of Him-the founder of our moral institutions. When the ceremony was over, Florence became aroused from her apathy, and replied, with her usual grace, to the congratulations of her friends. And whether it was, that dissimulation had now become both easy and natural to her, or that seeing no cause for unhappiness in a union whose relations were so congenial, her friends, with one accord, pronounced it a most " capital match." Perhaps our judgment is never more at fault, than when pronouncing upon the merits of a marriage. "We see as through a glass darkly," supposing that if externals agree- the position in life -the fortune - the education-if these harmonize-in such a union will be found all the happiness which this sin-stained world affords. The proportion of marriages where the parties are of discordant tastes and dispositions, as well as of outward circumstances, vastly outnumbers those of entire congeniality; and it is, perhaps, wisely so ordered, since it is, by such means, that life, in general, becomes a more equal and harmonious affair. The wife of domestic tastes, who would naturally be all en- grossed with the inferior things of life, will insensibly be lifted up by her husband into the upper strata, where mind predominates. The gentleness of the wife, again, may prove a powerful curb to the stormy passions of the hus- page: 176-177[View Page 176-177]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 176-177 176 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. band-even her extravagance may act as a counterpoise to his penuriousness-or her vivacious disposition, remove somewhat of the gravity of his; and thus, acting as " checks and balances," the broai channel of life moves onward, with an even and steady flow. In the present marriage, vain were the kindly expressed hopes of a "' long life of happiness " for the young couple. Vain, vain indeed -for the love which should have ce- mented the union, existed with but one of the parties; and the guiding principle of the other was merely a sense of duty. Even as Florence leaned on the arm of her much-wronged husbind, receiving the kind congratulations of their friends, the only hope, or wish, of her wretched bosom, was that for the peace which the grave yields. ! EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 1" CHAPTER XIII. If the love of the heart is blighted, it buddeth not again; If that pleasant song is forgotten, it is to be learnt no more; Yet often will thought look back, and weep over early affection, And the dim notes of that pleasant song will be heard as a reproachful spirit, Moaning in JEolian strains over the desert of the heart. TuPPER. Her heart is seared: A sweet light has been thrown upon its life, To make its darkness the more terrible. And this is love. LANDON. THE excitement consequent upon the festivities of the joyous occasion of his daughter's marriage, proved more than Mr. De Lisle could bear, in his then enfeebled state. His system, which had for months been the prey of a re- lentless disease, received a shock, at this time, from which it never afterward recovered. The purposed bridal tour was abandoned; and Florence, owing to the constant attentions which her father required, and which her affection prompted her to bestow, found ' small leisure" to brood over her secret sorrows. But none the less fiercely waged the warfareof her bosom--like Vesuvius's flames, wildly raged those fires within, and, at times, their hot breath rose scorchingly to the brain- and reason sat totteringly on her throne. At intervals, she would yield to Henry's request, that he should take her place beside the couch of languishing; and then stealing through the misty twilight's shadows, down the luxuriant alleys of the garden, to its remotest bounds, page: 178-179[View Page 178-179]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 178-179 178 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. where stood a clump of ma(gnolias; she would throw her- self in utter abandonment upon the sod; but though she lay writhing in agony--though her bosom heaved to burst- incg-not a sound broke the stillness of the night. "Oh! when, when shall this struggle cease? How long, how long a time the heart is breaking! Death! thy with- ering breath re[s on me; wherefore, then, dost thou, fiend- like, forbear to strike the final blow? And I, who so abhor deception, must day by day-but they know it not-none know it but him-none, none shall know it!" M. De Lisle continued rapidly to decline, and his sudden demise was anticipated by all, save Florence. The wings of time, in its onward course, soon bore him to that point, whence the soul's dark pilgrimage on earth is ended and it enters the mysterious world beyond. He died--blessings lingeringr on his latest breath, for the two objects of his love; dying in the happy conviction that life's best and brighltcst blessings were secured to them. It was a severe slhock to Florence; for, notwithstanding she had nursed him with unwearied devotion, witnessing daily his failinog strength, she had never admitted to Jler breast the dark thouglht of the possibility of his death. Shle was paralyzed by it-her long overtaxed powers gave way beneath the 4earful stroke; and weeks passed ere again she awoke to consciousness. Well, perhaps, had it been, had she never wakened more; for in the wild frenzy of that "fever-dream," she betrayed to him, who of all others should not lave known it, the secret guarded so sedulously aforetime. When she unclosed her eyes, in the dawn of restored reason, the darkness of the chamber rendered every object EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 179 vague and indistinct. She attempted to raise her hand as if to push from her the mist that obscured her vision, and found it powerless. Then remembrance came slowly and painfully to her of her marriage, her father's illness and death. The odor of medicine, which pervaded the room, and her excessive debility convinced her that she had been very ill - that her feet were even then pressing the threshold of the spirit-world. The thought brought no terror to her-but joy, joy unspeakable! A sense of drowsiness oppressed her, which she imagined to be the approach of death; and calmly and sweetly she sank into a deep slumber, murmuring: "Heavenly lr'ather, receive my spirit." When she again awoke, the morning's sun was streaming in golden rays, through the partly-opened shutters, and her old African nurse sat beside her bed. She looked stead- fastly at her, trying to concentrate her wandering senses, then murmured her name in low, feeble tones. It was a happy moment for " the good and faithful ser- vant," whose heart throbbed with a mother's love for her, when Florence once more recognized her. She told her with a volubility so rapid, that Florence's languid faculties could scarce keep pace with it-of her long illness-and of the tenderness with which her husband had nursed her through it; and that the physician had declared, if she recovered, it would be more owing to Henri's unremitting attentions, than to his skill. Florence listened in pain-feeling how unworthy a reci- pient she was of so much kindness from him. When old "Mammy" expressed her delight " that she would soon be well again," she replied: page: 180-181[View Page 180-181]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 180-181 180 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. "Ah! it was a cruel kindness to bring me back to life. I long to be fieed these earthly fetters. I do not wish to live,"-then as though she thought the old servant would be shocked by such an exclamation, she added: "Since my father is gone." "But your husband-Master Harry-you wish to live for his sake?" "No, no, I tell you, I pine to be at rest. He would be far happier if I were gone. He would then get a better wife than I could ever be." While they were yet conversing, Henry noiselessly entered, and perceiving that Florence's mind had regained its equilibrium, his bosom swelled with various conflicting emotions. Throughout the progress of her disease, his hands had administered every antidote prescribed to arrest its course; and his ear had bent to catch her faintest utter- ance; but though he had heaid another's name and not his own trembling upon those precious lips, he would not enter- tain a thought other than that the beloved of his soul reciprocated with equal ardor his affection. At times, in the delirium of the fever, her spirit was lifted from the dark present and borne back to the "white and blessed" past: smiles would brighten her flushed and burning brow, and the music of her wild, gay laugh break with strange mockery on the stillness of the death chamber, as it were. Henry would crush out the painful suspicion which came peering through the windows of his soul with the thought, "that school days are always accounted bright and joyous ones; and Florence's were rendered more abundantly so, by the indulgence of her teachers and the kind love of her I EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 181 friends. It should then afford no surprise, that the remem- brance of them causes her such pleasure." And when those transient gleams of sunshine were suc- ceeded by groans, deep and agonizing, as if the life-chords were suddenly riven-every pang, that rent her bosom, finding a response in his-he would again seek to deceive himself with the thought that they were but the ebullitions of the direful disease that preyed upon her. However though he thus disguised the fact, some lingerings of bitter- ness remained. At present, however, joy was the predominant emotion of his bosom-joy, in that she was restored to him at the moment she seemed about to be snatched from his embrace forever. He approached her gently, in tender considera- tion of the morbid acuteness of her invalid senses, and lay- ing his arm softly over her bosom, he reclined his head upon the pillow and pressed his face close to hers, saying: "You are better, dearest?" When his head was lifted from the pillow, her glance rested scrutinizingly upon his pale and haggard counte- nance; and she said with ine emotion: "Aunt Hannah tells me I have been very ill and I perceive you are worn out with fatigue-with your efforts to preserve my life. This was unwise, Harry; I regret that I havye caused you so much anxiety and fatigue." "Do not speak thus, dearest. Am I not far more than repaid by finding you better?-that you know me once more?" With a tenderness like that of woman's and a like inge- nuity in devices to beguile the weary hours of convales- page: 182-183[View Page 182-183]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 182-183 182 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. cence, Harry watched over her--culling every morning the choicest floral gems to lay upon her pillow; hoping that their bright faces, fresh from the morning's ablution, and withal their sweet exhalations, might afford somewhat of pleasure to her languid senses. When she grew strong enough to leave her weary couch, he would lift her tenderly, as though she were an infant, and seating her in an Elizabethan chair, draw it to the large French windows, and pushing back the curtains, reveal to her gaze the magnificent scenes of natural beauty, which surrounded their mansion. He would read to her from some favorite author, witlh a voice softened to the lowest tone; in fiact, there was nothing he did not do, which he thourght would afford her the slightest pleasure. Sad are we to relate it, that her grief and his happiness each reached their climax simultaneously. His, by having her again so far restored to health as to join him in walks tlhrou,lh the deli,rhtful shade of the garden-his arm sup- portingr her tottering steps; and lecrs, in that all his love and kindness were so unmerited. Slie sougilt to burst the fetters that bound her spirit, and to mete unto him the full measure of love which his de- manded; but, alas! the heart too oft disdains all self-con- trol. An2ot/ler's magic "a sesame" had unsealed its treasures, and for him, whose rilghtful possession they were, but a moiety remained. Frequently, after some demonstration of kindness on his part, goaded on to distraction by the reproaches of con- science, torether with grief for her father's loss, and that grief which was yet of a " darker dye," she would give EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 183 way to the most passionate bursts of sorrow; and when surprised by Harry, to his earnest interrogatories as to its cause, she would gasp, "' My father---- "Yes dearest, your father is now at rest; free from all the tortures of disease, from which, we with all our love and care, could not shield him. Can you not find consola- tion in this?" But refusing his offers of comfort, she would continue to give way to the violence of her grief, until worn out by its very excess. Then there were days in which the opposite extreme was manifest--and far, far more sad and touch- ing to witness--days when, sunk into an apathetic state, she spoke not, or seemed conscious of the presence of those about her. Then she would rouse up, and perform her duties half mechanically; seeking to be interested in all that concerned Harry, even smiling upon him--but it was a smile so ghastly, it chilled'the heart, it meant to brighten. Such a state of things could not long exist without awakening Harry's suspicion of its real cause. Incidents innumerable, came swelling upon memory's tide, to con- vince him of the truth of his dark surmises. He asked himself the question, If it were true that she had be- come more fondly attached to another than to himself, what had caused their separation? He thrust from him the first thought which arose in his mind, and though he sought eagerly for another reason, there was none other of any plausibility. It was, then, that her proud, and lofty and honorable spirit, had led her to fulfill the vows of their youth, even at the sacrifice of her own happiness. This thought, once admitted to his bosom, all the bright hopes of life were lost in its dark shadow. page: 184-185[View Page 184-185]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 184-185 184 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. If a lifetime of agony had been crowded into the last few months of Florence's existence-Harry endured an age of suffering in a few moments. It was not only grief at the rending to atoms the beautiful temple of his bosom, but intensified to madness, that his hands had dealt the assassin blow, to the all of joy, of the heart he cherished so fondly. Feeling that associations, of a most poignant, and soul- harrowing nature, were alone connected with his presence, he forbore to intrude upon her; and plunged with a reck- less step into the wildest recesses of the forest. Its somber shadows alone seemed in perfect harmony with his feelings. And Florence, in her gloomy absorption, did not perceive that a cloud was arisen in another part of her horizon, threatening to add to the darkness which already en- shrouded her. And thus they lived-the same roof sheltering each, but how fearful and vast the distance which separated them. "I cannot live thus-it must not be-this cold estrange- ment is congealing my very heart's blood. Ties which the grave alone can sever, unite us, therefore mine is not the power, to restore her to him for whom she pines in silent agony-but surely, love such as mine, though powerless to compensate her for that which she mourns, may yet win her to partial happiness. If my hands have placed the crown of thorns upon that bleeding spirit, mine shall bind those welling wounds. Henceforth, my every effort of life shall be, to become worthy of her nobly generous sacrifice." EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 185 He sprang up from beneath the massive tree, upon. whose branches the long dank mosses waved as funereal palls, the frenzied tones in which he began to speak, giving way at the close, to those of a hopeful character. Pushing aside the rank undergrowth which impeded his progress, he sped with a light and rapid step homeward. The hope but just expressed, that love such as his, might meet with its reward, gleaming through his darkened heart, like a sunbeam through the grated windows of the con- vict's gloomy cell. He entered her boudoir, from whose sacred precincts he had exiled himself; and found her seated on a divan, pale and motionless--her hands folded, as if in hopeless resignation-looking rather, as a rare piece of statuary, from some heaven-inspired chisel, than a being over which the wondrous principle of life held sway. He approached her-sat beside her-and twining his arms gently about her, drew her fondly to his bosom, without having called forth. any seeming recognition of his presence. I He spoke to her in that tone so peculiarly grateful to the heart of the young mother in expectancy-of his happiness at the anticipated birth of their child. "Our Heavenly Father, dearest, will give us a cherub, whose angel presence, will brighten our gloomy home, and restore happiness to us once more." Happiness! how the word jarred on the heart, around which despair had coiled itself, crushing out the hope which gave it birth. ",Never! Never" burst from her lips in tones so low, and despairing, it seemed as if the heart itself had broken in giving them utterance-his arm was 16 6 page: 186-187[View Page 186-187]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 186-187 186 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. withdrawn with sudden violence from about her--and then, as if somewhat recalled by it, she added, " for my father, who would have hailed its birth so joyfully- he is not here-he is gone--gone." It was Harry's last effort to woo her troubled soul to peace. Throughout that night of splendor, while the moonbeams quivered and played in silvery masses of light, over the regal buildings of Bellefontaine, its wretched owner, as though pursued by fiends, was threading, madly, wildly, the dark intricacies of the forest. Upon the edge of a morass, many miles distant from home, he sank .down in a deadly swoon, frantically exclaiming; ," The curse of Cain be upon me-I have murdered her-she, who was dearer than my own soul!" * * * , This is but a record of one hastily-formed, illy-considered zmarriaye engagement. In our brief existence, numbers of such, quite as sorrowful, have come under our notice. In such instances the Holy estate exists but in name. Be- tween the parties a wide, illimitable ocean spreads its dreary waste, on which not one sweet gale of hope is borne. Better, far better the sorrow of the grave. For when the grass grows green and soft upon it, other hopes may spring up in the place of those made desolate. But the widow- hood of the lheart!--in its Upas shade, all hope is blighted. Strangely sad as it may seem, myriads have hewn the sepulcher of their own happiness. This custom, which is so severely to be censured, pre- vails to a remarkable extent in the Southern States, and those bordering on them. Before young ladies' judgments are deemed sufficiently mature by their mothers to pur- chase a costly dress, they esteem themselves fully competent EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 187 to select a husband to pilot them over the tempestuous sea of life. Engagements of marriage are frequently made with as little reflection, as an engagement for a walk, or an evening party-and if, as in most cases, in a few weeks or months marriage renders the engagement a finality, an entire and complete wreck of earthly happiness, is usually the result of this hasty and imprudent procedure. Or if delayed, some trifling miff, is made the excuse for its sunderance, to the bitter grief, perhaps, of one of the parties. And if it be the maiden who acts thus fickly (and the constancy of the sex is not in good credit), and at the time, feels no pangs of conscience for the act, let me warn her that, to a woman of refined sensibilities, after years of reflection, with-"its sober, second thought," will cause the perjured vow to become "the thorn in the flesh"--the gall drop in the honeyed cup, it may be, within her grasp. But yet, better-far better, say we, the broken vow-than the broken heart and the life-long of wretched- ness-better the sacrifice of one, than of both. Early engagements, we reiterate, are pregnant with evil. Perhaps some bright-eyed maiden may point, complacently, to the happy union of a friend, to prove the assertion false. There are " exceptions to all general rules," we know, and there may be some few to this also; but we would not like to hazard so much, on the hope (which we consider as almost baseless) of proving the exception. The lover, of the maiden'of fifteen, is almost certain to become her derision, scorn, perhaps detestation at twenty- three-and the man of twenty-eight, rarely ever permits her to preside over his home, as the mistress of his heart, who had captivated his boyish fancy. page: 188-189[View Page 188-189]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 188-189 188 EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. We have been trying to recall an expression of Sir Walter Scott-that wonderful savan of the heart-to bear us out in our assertion. We are unable, however, to give it in his words, but think we may venture to give the senti- ment. It is to this effect: that it is a fortunate circum- stance, that few marry their "first love;" for years of maturity rarely ever sanction the choice of our youthful enthusiasm. We ask our young readers to reflect on the sad conse- quences resulting from one Early Engagement; hoping that it may prove a beacon-light, to warn them of the rock, on which so much treasure has been lost-treasure, compared with which, earthly wealth is but as the "small dust in the balance." 'I FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. CHAPTER XIV. "The baby still slumber'd, And smil'd in her face as she bended her knee. 'Oh bless'd be that warning, My child, thy sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering to thee.' "They are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping."-LOVE. "Ah broken is the golden bowl, The spirit flown forever: Let the bell toll, a saintly soul Floats on the Stygian river."-E. A. POE. ANCIENT historians tell, that in that land whence the ear- liest beams of civilization emanated, there was once a lofty statue whose stony heart poured forth a strain of melody when the first beams of the morning's sun put to flight night's darkness. Even thus did Florence's heart ring forth a joyous melody-for a "sweet light" had stolen over its darkness. With strange and indescribable emotions she received into her arms the little being whose heart had caught its tiny stroke from hers, and whose veins were filled with the same crimson current. As she gazed on this little creature 189 page: 190-191[View Page 190-191]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 190-191 190 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO of life and beauty-the fledgeling of her own bosom--the long-broken chain was reclasped! the void filled! happi- ness once more was hers! From the cleft rock the pure waters of hope and love gushed forth refreshing into life all of the joy of other days. Life was henceforth no longer objectless-for to her must cling the tendrils of this fragile flower for its protection, support, even for life. Of the bliss of those early days of maternal love none may conceive, save the breast like hers, whence happiness has long been an alien. The unsealing of that fount of love ever marks a bright era in woman's life, for she is so constituted that her highest and purest happiness is found in the discharge of the duties of wife and mother. We deem it not a weakness in Florence, who had thus suddenly been lifted from the depths of despair to the heights where the sunlight rested, that at times she should give way to nervous fears lest a breath might waft her cherub from her embrace forever. Often, when folded to sleep in his snowy bed, lying still and motionless as though devoid of life, his breathing too faint to be perceptible,she would bend over him in affright, gradually lowering her face in increasing trepidation closely and yet more closely to those rosebud lips, to ascertain if life were yet exhaled; and when unable to detect the slightest respiration, and fearing to press her hand upon the fount of life lest to find it congealed-when that climax of anguish was reached in the thought that her angel was removed back to the heavenly fold-even then a smile of angelic sweetness would suddenly flit over those stilly features-the tiny arms would be raised in a flutter of joy, and the whole frame would seem thrilling under some powerful emotion. When this singularly beautiful EARL? ENGAGEMENTS. 191 phenomenon passed away, the smile only lingering, overt come-by the revulsion of feeling she would sink down, exclaiming fervently, "Oh! God! I thank thee!" It is a beautiful superstition of both the Irish and the Hindostanee, that when smiles burst over the face of the infant slumberer, and its little form is tremulous, apparently, with joy, angels are holding converse with it. There seems truth as well as beauty in the superstition, for beautiful objects and pleasant communications alone wreathe the face with smiles and fill the heart with joy. Beautiful indeed must those angelic visitants seem to the unstained heart, and sweet their messages of love to cause the little being to thrill with happiness, and the tiny arms to be uplifted with nervous energy to throw off earth's fetters and join the "blessed surrounding throng." It is only in the dawn of existence-the first few weeks or months at best that the child exhibits these evidences of "spiritual communica- tion"--soon, very soon the passions of humanity, which at first lie slumbering in the depths of the heart, awaken-- and the angels flee in haste. Florence was completely aroused from out her gloomy trance by the birth of her child. Sometimes upon her cleared and brightened skies the dark past would thrust itself, but it was fleeting as the electric current-gleaming fearfully for a moment-then gone. Little Harry (for so she herself named him, because of his resemblance to his father) grew apace, and with every passing hour new links were added to those which bound him to her heart; and with them were others uniting her husband more and more closely in the same fond embrace. She could not look on this, his softened image without having him constantly page: 192-193[View Page 192-193]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 192-193 192 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO brought to her thoughts. Love for the child most naturally begets love for the father, be he worthy or unworthy; and the two, especially in the present instance, became in a few months a unit in the affections of the wife and mother. Again she was reveling in a bright dream of happiness- sweet as that which once had filled her soul with extasy, and like that, it was doomed to as speedy an annihilation! Harry's apathetic indifference to their child was a source of painful amazement to Florence, to whom he had proved a very pool of Bethesda, healing every sickness of her soul. When the child was some six months old, Harry having obeyed her summons to her boudoir somewhat tardily, and listened unmoved to her glowing eloquence aroused by that very inspiring theme to all mothers-the peculiar charms and intelligence of her child-she suddenly paused in surprise at his frigid silence and exclaimed: "How changed you are, Harry; and how strange that you should be so indifferent to our child. Did you not say that he would prove the sweet restorer of happiness to our gloomy home? Alas! I was the better prophet of the two. It is quite apparent his birth has not brought an accession of happiness to you." "And has he restored your happiness?" said he, fixing a mournful yet searching glance upon her. "Yes, yes I am happy-supremely so, in my little trea- sure. He is a very sunbeam in my path, and has awakened a thousand delightful emotions of which I knew nothing before. Life was never half so full of hope and joy as at the present time." He made no reply, but that melancholy., earnest, and doubting glance still remained fixed upon her. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 193 A cold fear gathered at Florence's heart, as attracted by his peculiar gaze she observed for the first time the ravages mental and physical suffering had wrought in him. On the night of Henry's desperation, his generous, lov- ing spirit bleeding in untold agony for the wretchedness he supposed himself to have caused-when he sank to the earth, felled by an invisible blow, he remained insensible until the heavy dews of that sultry clime, bathing his faint- ing form, at length restored his vanished senses. A violent pain in the head, accompanied with chilliness and numbness of the whole system urged him to seek a shelter within the home - than which the narrow one of the churchyard would have been far more preferable. He was descended from a family all of whom, for want of strength of constitution to wrestle with disease, had died early. He had inherited a corresponding delicacy of con- stitution, and the violent cold resulting from his exposure to the malarious influence of the night, together with the tortures of his mind, tended to hasten the development of the disease lurking in his system, and which must eventu- ally have wrought its destruction. His step lost its firm- ness and vigor, his face its fullness, his eye became strangely bright and lustrous, and a crimson spot burned deeply on either cheek. These, with their usual accompa- niment, a distressing' cough, told of the "worm i' the bud" wasting its beauty and life. Once aroused to a knowledge of his illness and suffer- ing, with a wild and passionate burst of grief, Florence upbraided herself for the selfish indulgence to sorrow for- merly, and the entire absorption in her child latterly, which had caused her cruel insensibility to his ills. Her heart 17 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 194-195 194 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO smote her the more keenly that he had borne all hei neglect and indifference uncomplainingly. They wept together, the young husband and wife; but though it was soothing to have her arms about him, to feel her tears upon his cheek-tears for dim!-flowing in sym- pathy for his afflictions, they might not wash out the deep, dark stains of that deep-seated sorrow. Hastily summoning a servant she dispatched him immedi- ately for their family physician; and when after a few weeks had elapsed without an apparent improvement in Henry's health, others of greater distinction were obtained from a distance. Unweariedly she bent over him through the long, gloomy watches of the night, and the more cheerful hours of day; bestowing all the little nameless attentions which affection prompts to relieve the ailments of the i beloved--seeking when, alas! too late, to bring back strength and vigor to his declining frame, and buoyancy and hope to his torpid spirit But now "The King of Kings Alone might stay life's parting wings." He cared not to wrestle with the "fell Destroyer," but happily succumbed to his power. Sipce the birth of little Harry, as Florence had said, life had become so hopeful, so happy, there was no "abiding place" for gloomy thoughts within her mind for anj length of time. It was painful to witness her husband's suffer- ings, but even though the ligaments of life seemed almost ready to give way with every paroxysm of coughing, she beguiled herself with the delusion, every succeeding week, that he would soon be restored to health, and then in the EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. I 195 rearing of their child what a world of happiness was theirs in prospective. Slowly, but fatally, the poisoned fang was thrust deeper and deeper into his vital powers - dimmer and dimmer gleamed the spark of life in its clayey tenement! He had been sleeping and was awakened by the silveryr laugh of his child. Florence was bending over him when he unclosed his eyes. "I hope you feel refreshed by your slumbers, dear Harry, and are sufficiently strong to come out upon the balcony and enjoy the beautiful sunset. There is 'healing on the wings' of, the sweet balmy air of the evening, dear- est; and little Harry's 'winsome ways' and happy sports will revive your languid spirits;" said she, looking in fond tenderness from one to the other. "Say, Harry, is he not beautiful?" continued she, holding the child up to his gaze with all the pride of a young mother--"Oh, is he not beautiful?" The eyes of the invalid rested for a moment upon the beauteous boy, then turned with a restless glance to the blooming and exultant countenance of the mother. He gazed steadfastly as if reading, yet doubting the evidence he there saw of the "calm, sober certainty of waking bliss." He turned away, mentally exclaiming, " 'Tis feigned-'tis feigned-she is not-cannot-never will be happy more." "Will you not come, dearest? Let me assist you to rise;" said Florence, not having yet received a reply. "No, Florence, no-I have naught to do with nature's scenes of beauty, now. Once they afforded me pleasure- page: 196-197[View Page 196-197]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 196-197 A I 196 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO but that is past. I do not desire again to behold them"- he paused; then as if replying to her former interrogations concerning the beauty of their child, he continned: "Yes, lie is beautiful, and-happy too. Oh, may his destiny prove more bright than his ill-fated father's! lMay God avert from him the misery of destroying the happiness of the object of his fondest and tenderest regards." He closed his eyes, and large drops gathered fast in their cav- ernous recesses. As one suddenly stricken with paralysis, Florence's limbs gave way beneath her, and she sank by his couch calling on him wildly for an explanation. "Explain yourself, Harry-tell me, I beseech you, the meaning of those strange and cruel words." His melancholy glance was again uplifted to hers, and he replied: "I am dying, dearest-but a few more waning hours and 'my last of earth' will have come. Concealments now are vain. I have long known of your hopeless attachment to another, and of your wretchedness in being wedded to one while another possessed your love. Those early vows, how much of misery have they wrought us. We erred grievously in binding ourselves to each other at too early an age for one at least to judge truly of her senti- ments; and grievously--most 'grievously have we an- swered it.' Bitter, bitter has been the penalty to both. But why, dearest, did you so deceive me? how willingly would I have released you from an engagement whose ful- fillment was fraught with destruction to your best and brightest hopes, and in securing your happiness, even at so EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 197 fearful a cost, felt but too blest. Alas! that that proud and lofty nature should have led you to throw yourself upon the pile of sacrifice." Florence was shocked-completely stunned by these unexpected disclosures. The inmost recesses of her heart had then been bared to him! and that fatal secret which she thought secured in her bosom by " triple bars of steel," and known to but one other beside herself, had also become known to him-him from whom of all others she most desired to conceal it, because of the wretchedness she knew it must occasion. The revelation filled her with consterna- tion, anguish, mortification, and remorse. The knowledge of which he had unfortunately become possessed had, alas! pieced deeply--perhaps fatally, and he was the victim, not she, of her wretched passion! How humiliating that his encomiums were undeserved-that his love had clothed her character with an excellence it was so far from possess- ing-had exalted her-deified her. That he should have thought a principle of honor, and not stern necessity had caused her to give up forever her soul's first idol. 'Harry! Harry!" she exclaimed wildly-" your self- reproaches and expressions of love have maddened me. It is not true that thou hast been a destroyer of happiness- but H-I am the destroyer, and thou art the victim! Oh, why did I leave you, who loved me so kindly, to return a miserable, perjured being to blast thihe all of earthly joy! He who caused my hearts to wander from thine loved me not-he loved me not-and blindly, not willfully did I fal- sify my vow to thee. All unconsciously I became entangled in that fatal passion, and on my awakening to a full sense of my madness and folly, even thou, whom I had so basely page: 198-199[View Page 198-199]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 198-199 198 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO I injured, must have pitied me. Love scorned - pride { crushed-hopes blighted-and life but a bitter mockery- j Oh, Harry, Harry, thou wert fully avenged! Pardon me! i Oh! say that you pardon me for my wicked concealments-- and believe me, I sought only your happiness and my father's by it. I felt that it was enough that I was miser- able, not that thou, and he too, should become so, who were so undeserving such a fate. Our marriage, I knew, was the one hope of his life; and though I felt that your love could never meet with its just return, I hoped our union might contribute somewhat to your happiness. Oh! tell me that you do not wholly despise me for my weakness-- that you do not loathe me for my baseness to you; that you will not cast me off forever from your heart, Harry, to be lost-lost in the ' outer darkness.' " She pausedl-overcome by the violence of her feelings and the wild energy of her manner, and awaited with a frenzied anxiety his reply. 1When Florence sank down in bewildering amazement and grief at Henry's unexpected revealments, her child , slid from her nerveless arm, and lay rolling in wild glee amid the rich roses and jonquils of the carpet; his sweet ringing tones filled the room with their music, making strange discord with the deep sobs of his agonized mother, or the sichs that rent the bosom of his suffering father. Alas! sweet boy; though now thou art sporting joy- ously, unconscious of the suffering so near thee, with every recurring breath thou inhalest the tainted atmosphere of a world of sin and sorrow. The curse of Adam resteth on thee! It was long ere Henry obtained sufficient mastery over his feelings to articulate distinctly; but he reached his arms EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 199 feebly out and clasped them around his grief-smitten Florence. When he regained command of his voice he besought her to be calm--"You have suffered deeply. Oh! that I had power to shield you from every future sor- row; but my candle-of life burns dim in its socket, and mine is not the blessed privilege to lighten the gloom of thy pathway. I thank Thee, O! I thank Thee, heavenly Father, that I die relieved of a weight of anguish!" "Do not talk thus, Harry; you Will not leave me-say, say that you will not die," she added incoherently, her large, dark eyes, strained almost to bursting, transfixed upon his fading form. "Must I see the earth close over all who ever loved me. My father--my husband--must I lose all-all, all," she murmured in heart-rending tones. "Our child, dearest; he will comfort you, and console you when I am gone, and smooth life's thorny path. He will demand your love and guardianship the more, deprived of a father and grandfather; and for his sake you will become nerved and strengthened to bear all future trials." Thus he sought to comfort her, unmindful of self-that he had been stricken down in the full prime and vigor of his manhood. The explanation, though painful and humiliating, was the blessed means of dispelling their long existingestrange- ment and cold reserve, and Henry's last few days of earth were made sweet and happy by fond communion with her whom he had loved through life with so " deathless a devo- tion." Even Florence's grief lost somewhat of its sting in contemplating the face of the dying. It was so radiant and peaceful, the ills of earth had lost their power to wound. a page: 200-201[View Page 200-201]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 200-201 200 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO The lofty columns of Bellefontaine house were drayed in funereal weeds, and a hushed and solemn awe reted upon its aristocratic premises. The last sad/ scene was over; the burial rite had been read-the funeral song been sung-and ia dirge for him, the doubly dead, in that he died so young," went up from the hearts of those who had known him, and loved him for his noble generosity, and warm and chivalrous heart. The servants, filled with the vague feelings of terror and dread, whch death creat es in the bosoms of the ignorant and superstitious, crept noiselessly and timidly about, or assembled in grloups to talk over the signs which for months 1ad ominously portended a death in the family. , Alone in the chamber, whose walls had caught his last faint silgh, sat Florence--the lonely, desolate, heart-broken Florence; clutching her child nervously to her breast, as thougll fearful lest it too, should be torn from her by the unpitying hand of death. "Oh,011 the Grave! the Grave!" says the elegant Irving, "It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment." Would indeed that, " firom its peace- ful bosom, none but fond regrets and tender recollections" might spring; but too often " the unkind look, the ungra- cious word, the ungentle action," the cold indifference to 'past endearments" rises up in dark array before the "lov- ing kindnesses" of the dear departed, and pangs keen and intense agonize the soul, that the grave deprives it the power of reparation. Florence sat in mute agony-her mind a prey to the keenest pangs of remorse. Memory was rife with the past, bringing up every scene in which he had acted a part, EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 201 and painting all his acts with the golden colors of love's pen cil. Agonizingly she mourned his blighted hopes-his early death. Her grief at length found vent in sighs and words. "And would not thy virtues, dearest, win for thee a better, brighter fate? Alas! alas! that the midnight sha- dow of my destiny should have fallen across thy path. Oh, Harry, Harry, art thou indeed, gone! Ibst-lost to me forever? Is all future retribution denied &nefor the ills I have wrought thee? Was-thy precious love unvalued- slighted -rejected? and now there 's none to care for me-to bless me with their love. My child! my child, would that thou and thy unhappy mother were lying beneath the sod that covers thy father's form. Why do I live! life is but a burden and a curse. I cannot leave the wretched present to " bathe my wearied soul" in the me- mory of former joys, for across the portals of the past is suspended the flaming sword of remorse. I cannot look to the future for relief of my woes, for it stretches awayin the dim distance with a prospect so drear and cheerless, I am paralyzed by it. Oh, the grave! the grave! in it alone may the " weary find rest-in it alone are all human ills deprived their sting." Thus gloomily passed the first subsequent months after her husband's death--unlike the cynic sorrows of the past, which had refused to be shared with another-disdaining all efforts of consolation, the lacerated heart of Florence now yearningly pined for some one to " speak, comfortingly" to her-to say that her self-reproaches and censures' were not all merited. But there were no kind hands near to offer the balm-tup. She had received a cold and formal letter of condolence from a very distant and only surviving rela- page: 202-203[View Page 202-203]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 202-203 202 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO tive of Harry's mother, who resided in a neighboring state; of her own family, not a drop of her blood coursed through the veins of a human being save her little Harry's. There were, then, no tender, sympathizing relatives with her in that season of trial; and having rejected all advances of friendship from the neighboring population since her mar- riage, they forbore to intrude upon her now, but left her to wrestle with her sorrows as best she might. There had been a i time, and the thought added to the poignancy of her grief, when there was one who sought to comfort her, and she " would not," and " now was her desolation come upon her." ,r EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 203 CHAPTER XV. There comes forever s6mething between us and what we deem our happiness, BYRON. Death found strange beauty on that cherub brow, And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose On cheek and lip-he touched the veins with ice, And the rose faded. With ruthless haste he bound The silken fringes of the curtaining lids Forever. The spoiler set his seal of silence- But there beamed a smile So fixed and holy from that marble brow, Death gazed, and left it there; he dared not steal The signet-ring of Heaven. SIGOURNEY. IF time robs us of our joys, it also removes from us our sorrows, and heals the bitterness of spirit by which at first we were prostrated. Months had come and gone since the death of Florence's husband, and the gloom of the past was waning away-gradually receding in the dim distance. In the discharge of her maternal duties, in receiving full interests for all her fond attentions to little Harry in his loving caresses, and in noting every new development of his in- fantile powers, time passed on, bringing to her soul a calm and chastened joy. With the pride of a mother of strong and highly cultivated intellect, she saw in his unusual pre- cociousness, the germs of an intellect destined for immor- tality-and not that it but betokened the shortness of time allotted, in which to mature. He had reached his third summer in perfect health- was beautiful, lovable and joyous, as the fondest mother's page: 204-205[View Page 204-205]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 204-205 204 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO heart could desire. He was the light of the household- his glad spirits causing the portals which had long been hushed in sadness, to re-echo with mirth and joy. In him were located the hopes and kind wishes of many. The sable population of his home, who, by the laws of the land, were to know no will but his, saw in him a future master, beneficent and kind, as had been his father and grand- father; and to his mother he was the son--emphatically, the sun of her life-he was to " make bright" its morning, and to cheer the gloom of its decline. But like many another keel freighted with a thousand precious hopes, he was destined to go down. At this period, Florence's vigilant eye of love, detected that a worm was preying in the very heart of her rosebud. His healthful complexion gave way to the pale and waxen hue of disease; its roses were gathered into one bright spot upon his wasting check, and his eyes, so like his father's, shone with the same brilliant luster which lit his expiring, glances. To longer his glad shouts re-echoed tlhrourlgh the lofty mansion, greeting pleasantly the ears of *bose so ardently devoted to him-no longer did aught afford him pleasure. Alas! he lay a drooping, wilting flower, on the bosom which thrilled with cxtasy or throb- bed with anguish in accordance with his various changes. The loss of her father and husband had caused illness and death to become closely associated in Florence's mind: and now, her beautiful boy--the light of her desolate home-was become the victim of disease, and she could not force from her the thought-though it curdled her [ very life-blood--of the possibility of his death. In these sad hours she remembered the gentle trust of her friend EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 205 Carrie Neville, in One, whom, she had said, was able and willing to help those in need, and she would try to lift up her heart to Him in earnest supplication that "this cup might pass from her" untasted. Then she would check the "strivings of the good spirit"-she would " seek to gird up her fainting loins" with the idea that God was too merciful to afflict her so grievously. "He," she would say, ,4 who cannot falsify his word, has said that he would not afflict us beyond our ability to bear-and this I could not bear. My other afflictions, though severe, could be endured-- but this, never--never! He will not--he will not rifle me of my last treasure-leave me in this dark world without an object to live for. He will not, fiend-like, give me life, yet rob me of all that makes life desirable. Oh, no, no! it cannot-cannot be. When the spring opens I will take him away to the Virginia mountains, and the pure; bracing atmosphere, and the medicinal properties of the springs, will restore my darling's health. Yes, yes, we will return in the fall, Fanny, with little master Harry blooming and healthful as ever. Say, Fanny, will it not be so?" The girl assented; and in her own rude and unpolished manner, sought to buoy up her mistress' drooping spirits. The physician interposed no obstacles to her plans. Aware of the inability of human means to stay the grasp of the Destroyer, he hoped that it might afford a slight palliative to her grief, that every effort had been made to preserve the life of her child. It was early spring, and even in that land of perpetual verdure, Nature's smile became more joyous and eloquent at its approach-the air grew more deliciously sweet with the breath of flowers, and the orchestra of the grove page: 206-207[View Page 206-207]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 206-207 206 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO bewildered the senses with its bursts of melody-ah, those notes! Of linked sweetness long drawn out. Orpheus, thy strains were not more ravishing, even though the lost ones of Hades were made to forget their tortures! and the 'famous ship to move prosperously on its voyage! and the very rocks and trees and beasts, to bow before thee! In other and happier days, Florence had bowed in deepest adoration at Spring's shrine of beauty, but never did she hail its gentle coming with such deep and thankful joy as the present. She departed immediately for the North with her precious burden, to make the last great struggle with the fell Destroyer for happiness. For the first few weeks after their arrival at the Springs, little Harry's failing powers seemed to recuperate some- what of strength, and the novelty of strange faces, and new scenes, to excite him with pleasure; but this was followed by a more rapid decline. "Mamma," said he one evening, as he reclined upon her bosom, his feverish arms entwiinin her neck, and his bril- liant glance fastened on hers--"Who will love you, Mam- ma, when Harry is gone?" A cold shudder passed through Florence's frame, and her lips became ashen as she attempted smilingly to reply, "Why is my little son going to run away, and leave poor Mamma?" "Oh no, Mamma-but when Harry is gone away up to the bright Heaven, to live with the good God, and his sweet angels" his face became resplendent with joy as he spoke; but the expression changed to one of troubled EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 207 anxiety as he again asked the question, "Who will love you then, Mamma?" "No one-no one, Harry," burst from her in heart- rending tones. "But, Harry, you must not grieve Mamma by talking so foolishly. Who has put these strange thoughts in your head?" Fanny said my Papa grew sick and died, and went to such a beautiful place in the Akies, to live with God and the angels; and Harry is going there too, Mamma." "Hush talking so this instant, Harry, if you would not kill me," said she, drawing him more closely to her bosom, which bled at every pore with anguish, and pressed her quivering lips to his. The child lay silently for some time within her arms- an expression of sorrow on his youthful features, most touching to behold. His thoughts were still burdened with the painful question: " Who will love Mamma then?" Suddenly a burst of sunshine beamed from his beautiful face-a blessed thought had occurred to him. "God will love you, Mamma. Fanny said God loved every one, and He will love you when Harry is gone." "Never-never. He could not love me if he took my darling from me. I do not want his love, or any oie's, but yours my darling, darling Harry." Again sorrow touched the gushing sunshine of his smile, and it vanished-was gone. He became restless-and a sound, half sigh, half moan escaped his faded lips, as from time to time they were pressed to hers. When the glad sunshine of the morning again poured through the windows of the sick chamber, it was apparent that little Harry's brief career was almost ended. A few page: 208-209[View Page 208-209]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 208-209 208 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO hours later in the day, and his pure spirit winged its flight to the bosom of the God whence'-it came. Alas! that it should have gone burdened with a sigh! When the last moan of pain escaped his little bosom, Florence sank to the floor in a long and deathly swoon, with his lifeless form pressed closely to her heart. Ye only who have had the strong cords of a Mother's love suddenly sundered, who have knelt beside the couch in in agonized consciousness, that all human efforts to rescue the beloved are of no avail-who have witnessed the glazing of the eye, the heart-beats growing feebler and feebler, the moan fainter and fainter, until the loved being lies chill and motionless in the embrace of death-ye only may enter into Florence's feelings at this moment. Even then, thine may not be a parallel case. There may be other jewels of the heart, to supply the place of the lost one; and kind and loving friends, with sympathies to soothe and comfort, and the physician in whose skill thou mayest have unbounded confidence. All these were denied to Florence. Alone, among strangers, with no beloved ones to lean her crushed and bleeding heart upon, in that hour of greatest trial-truly, indeed, might she have exclaimed, "Was there ever sorrow like unto my sorrow?" They laid him down to rest, sweet little Harry Soule, far away from the resting-place of his Fathers : but it was r a sweet, secluded spot, overshadowed with lofty pines- -i. emblems of the "unfading glories" of the soul; and the s winds amid their branches, chanted a low and solemn re- Iae quiem over his little grave. : When after some hours, Florence recovered from the. effects of her swoon, and the full weight of her bereave- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 209 ment came upon her, with impious voice she dared question the justice of the stroke which had removed her darling from her. "What have I done to merit such oft-repeated ills? Was I created but to be the mark of a relentless destiny? From childhood a curse has rested on me! thwarted, crossed in every fond wish that I indulged; but all, all were as naught compared to this. Why were all these strong a-ffections implanted within my bosom, if no objects round which they may entwine are granted me? Oh, my child! my child! my darling child! why wert thou given me but to be snatched away at the moment thou hadst become most dear?" She arose with a feeling of desperation at heart, and tot- tered to the couch on which, after having enrobed him for the burial, strangers had laid him. She clutched the snowy covering from about him, and the angel smile of those marble features had more of power to comfort her, than aught else on earth beside. It turned her thoughts from out their dark and murky channel to that God who had given and taken her child-to that Heaven, henceforth his dwelling-place, whose smile even now rested so sweetly on him. It was over the dead body of her child that Florence's heart was made to feel all its sinfulness, and unworthiness of past blessings. Though she had quaffed deeply of the cup of affliction, it had until now failed to have its proper effect. Henceforth there was a golden chain binding her heart to Heaven, and the pious teachings of her friends at S-- vale began to "bring forth fruit." During the early days of her widowhood, when pining 18 page: 210-211[View Page 210-211]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 210-211 210 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO for human sympathy, her thoughts had often reverted to the gentle, pious Carrie, and she would say: "Oh! that thou wert with me, my friend, to lift my sinful, suffering heart to Him who has so sorely smitten it;" but the love of her child had then proved a balm for every wound. Now he was taken from her, and in the last extremity she was driven to Him, whose mercies heretofore had all been disregarded; and in the sacred pages of his Holy book, that blessed fount whence all earthly sorrows may be quenched, she found strength and support under this severe and aggravated trial. If at first she had deemed God too merciful to take her last earthly treasure from her, now she felt that it was a kind and loving hand that dealt the blow-that it was in merey given to lead her heart to Heaven and Him. "My darling," she murmured, "thou canst not come to me, but, blessed thought! I may go to thee." During the long and violent illness that succeeded, she was strength- ened by the Christian's hope, and kind friends were found among the strangers, who vied with each other in delicate attentions to the young and sorely chastened mourner. Several months had passed since the death of little Harry, and Florence was so far recovered as to be able to sit up, but not yet with sufficient strength to visit his grave. From her window, however, she could look across the intervening meadow to the hill-side, where his grave was made. With the severance of the last, and tenderest, and holiest tie of life, all the wild and stormy passions of her nature were subdued, and a holy calm pervaded her. She bowed EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 2" in humble acquiescence to the will of the Unerring One, hoping soon to be re-united to the lost ones of her heart in Heaven. One only thought had power to wound her. The season was waning, and all were preparing to leave-but how- Oh! how could she return to her desolate home? "I page: 212-213[View Page 212-213]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 212-213 212 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO CHAPTER XVI. It was a pale, a melancholy face- A cheek which bore the trace of frequent tears, And worn by grief-though grief might not efface The seal that beauty set in happier years; And such smile as on the brow appears Of one whose earthly thoughts, long-since subdued Past this life's joys and sorrows, hopes, and fears- The worldly dreams o'er which the many brood- The heart-beat hush'd, in mild and chasten'd mood.-LANDON. Heaven, and heavenly thoughts were in her eye. IBID. And sad memory steals Forth from the twilight of the heart, to hold Its mournful vigil o'er affection's dust. SIGOURNEY. NATURE'S sigh was upon the air, telling sadly that the year was dying. Like the bird of snowy plumage, the fading, withering leaves were singing their own funereal songs. The breath of autumn, as it stole gently through the open window by which Florence was sitting, fell sadly upon her spirit-no longer could her return home be delayed. She turned to the sacred pages and sought relief for her melancholy, and received fresh strength and conso- lation from its "precious promises." She was startled from her absorbing perusal by some one exclaiming without-"Florence! Florence!" How long a time had elapsed since she had heard that once familiar name! she turned almost in eager expectation of meeting some old, beloved friend. Beneath the shade of a tree, at some distance on the EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 213 lawn, a nurse with two children was sitting, and it was she who was chiding a little maiden of some three summers or more, for her somewhat unfeminine mirthfulness. Florence witnessed the sports of the children with that melancholy pleasure a bereaved mother only may feel. There is so striking a resemblance between the actions of all children, that little Harry's plays were brought vividly to her memory. At length the nurse took them away; and for the first time since Harry's death, a feeling, so strong and yearning came over her but for a moment to clasp him to her bosom-but to hear his loved voice once more pronounce the sweet word Mamma." Her tears began to flow, and starting up she said: "I will go to his grave, True, I shall not see him, but there will be happiness in the thought that I am near him-that but a few feet of earth lie between me and his beloved form. Yes, I am strong now-I will go to his grave." With feeble steps she sought the hallowed spot, and kneeling lowly down, she bowed her head to the dust that covered his mortal remains-yet wept not, for the blest assurance at her heart of soon being restored to her lost darling in Heaven, where "partings come not." As she walked slowly homeward in deep meditation on the mysteries of life and death, of time and eternity, but more especially of that wondrous Being, the Creator and Disposer of all things, she met the girl with the children, whose gambols she had witnessed during the early part of the evening. Involuntarily she paused before her to look at the child in her arms. He was beautiful as her own heart's idol ere page: 214-215[View Page 214-215]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 214-215 214 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO disease had wasted his strength and bloom. There was something in the sweet, gentle expression of his eyes of azure light that touched her heart pleasantly as an old remembered strain. She gazed earnestly, and the faces of two almost forgotten in the pressure of recent sorrows were recalled by the resemblance of this infant boy. The child, true to the instincts of baby nature, put forth his arms to go to one who gazed with so sweet and sad a smile upon him. She lifted him from the arms of the nurse, and nestling close upon her bosom, he twined his dimpled arms about her, and gazed upward with a smile of sunshine. It was a moment of agony to Florence, though not unmingled with pleasure. The past rushed back upon her-it seemed as though Harry were restored to her. She pushed back the clustering curls of " summer gold" from off his brow. Its massive proportions struck her. In its con- formation she had never seen but one such before. She held him long and fondly to her bosom, suffusing his angel face with tears and kisses. "How beautiful thou art, sweet one-thy mother's heart doth joy in such a treasure-once I too was blest as she, for my child was fair and beautiful as thou art. But now my little Harry lies sleeping up there in the grove, and I have been to his grave to pray .............. Canst thou tell me thy name, dearest?" "We call him Theo," said the nurse, " but his right name is Theodore." A chill crept through the veins of Florence. The girl added his full name-it was one Florence had never heard before. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 215 With another fond embrace she returned the child to the nurse, and would have passed on, but the little maiden by the nurse's side, gaining confidence by her gentle manners, and the interest she manifested in her brother, approached her, and said, "My name is Florence --is not that a pretty name? My mamma says there is no name half so beautiful." Florence bent over and kissed her glowing cheeks. t Yes, it is a sweet name. I love it, because when I was a bright-eyed little maiden like you, my father loved it, and called me by it." The evening was warm for the season, and the windows, which extended to the floor, were thrown open to admit the mild, soft western breeze, which "Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees." Florence sat in the gray twilight, musing on the past. "The fragrant breeze Swept o'er her, as a tale of other times, Lifting the curtain from the ancient cells Of early memory." She had thought that every earthly longing had been crushed in the death of her child; but the gentle twining of the arms of the stranger baby about her,.and his fragrant kisses upon her lips, so long denied that luxury, had awa- kened anew longings for something on which to spend her hoarded affections. Then there was that in his smile, too, which reminded her forcibly of some friends who were once most dear. One of those friends, truly, was shadowed in the gloomy back-ground of the picture, but the other, the gentle Carrie, stood forth all bathed in sunshine. She recalled the nume- page: 216-217[View Page 216-217]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 216-217 216 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO rous proofs she had given of her affection-the joy of their communings --the pleasant walks they had taken --the songs they had sung together. "But all, all is past," said she, with a sigh. "Oh! that I could once again hear those sweet, familiar songs." "Fanny, bring me my guitar. In other days I had a i great passion for music; let me try if it will remove the melancholy and isolation of feeling that depress me this evening." Her touch, at first, was faint and faulty, and her voice tre- mulous with weakness and suppressed feeling; but gradu- ally, as she became lost in the sweet remembrances of the past, the cords gave forth their richest melody beneath the magic of her touch, and her voice rose soft and clear, and swelled upon the evening air. In a distant room in the hotel a lady and gentleman were sitting by a table, reading; and a third person stood by an open window, gazing out upon the " starry Heavens." He looked thin and pale, as if one of that unfortunate class of beings-a perpetual half-way invalid; not so ill as to require strict medical treatment, or sufficiently well to enjoy the comforts of life. The evening was so pleasant it tempted him forth; and drawing his hat down low upon his brow, and bending his head to his bosom, he seemed inclined to indulge in deep revery while walking upon the terrace, which extended the whole length of the building. i Florence's tones reached him, and it became evident at once that he was a passionate lover of music, for he paused suddenly, and seemed much agitated by the rich volume of melody that filled the air. Years had passed since a voice so rich,'and full, and EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 217 sweet had charmed his listening ear, and he almost held his very breath, lest to lose a single tone. It ceased, and he resumed his walk. Again it came issuing forth, and again were his steps arrested. He was now just before the room from whence the music proceeded, and his glances were involuntarily directed toward the songstress. I " She was sitting beneath the lamp--her pale, melancholy face and wasted figure flooded with its brilliant rays. He bent eagerly, breathlessly forward, fixing a penetra- ting gaze upon .her. His face grew livid as with the hues of death, and he leaned for support against a tree. Again he bent eagerly forward for a moment, his glance yet more keen and searching, then retreated rapidly away. Re-entering the room from whence he' had come, he said to the lady who sat reading there, "( Come with me a mo- ment." His voice was husky, and his deathly pallor alarmed her, but she arose, unquestioning, to obey his request. He led her rapidly to the spot where, unperceived, he had been gazing at Florence. His agitation seemed at once transfused to her, for she trembled violently, and leaned somewhat more heavily upon his arm. Pale and weeping she replied to his earnest question- Is it not her? "It must be, but oh! how sadly, sadly changed." "( It was she, then, whom Mary met while walking with the children this evening, returning from her child's grave. Mary told me the -tombstone bore the name of Henry Soule and that, you know, is her husband's name. It struck me at the time, more particularly so, as she told little Florence 19 page: 218-219[View Page 218-219]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 218-219 218 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO she loved her name, because it was the same her father had given her; and I intended to inquire, to-morrow, further concerning it. It must, it must be Florence. That voice- was there ever such another? and are not those our songs? See, see, she has ceased singing-the guitar has fallen-- her hands are clasped upon her eyes! I must go to her this moment; do not seek to detain me, when Florence is so near, and in trouble." Overcome by the recollections which came thronging upon her, of the happy hours long since gone by, Flor- ence's voice became choked with emotion, and tears started to her eyes. "All, all is lost to me forever!-departed, to return no more, and I am alone-alone-all alone!"How fearfully rang that doleful thought through the desolate chambers of her heart. Sinking back in her chair, she clasped her hands upon her eyes, tears gushing through the white, ta- pering fingers. It was now that Carrie (for it was she) passed through the opened casement, and hastened to her. Throwing her arms around her, she exclaimed, "Florence, Florence, my much-loved friend! Have you forgotten Carrie?" The sweet, familiar tones of Carrie's voice, addressing her with the loved names of "Florence," and "friend," thrilled her with a sudden sense of joy; and there-no vision of the imagination-no illusion of the senses-there stood Carrie Neville by her side, blooming and beautiful as when they had parted, not a trace of sorrow yet en- stamped on her fair and youthful brow. The twilight shades found Florence pining for love and companionship in loneliness and utter desolation. The EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 219 evening closed with " meting unto her the full measure " of her desires. For though bereaved of the dearest objects of her love, she could yet recline upon the tender, sympathizing bosom of this friend, feeling no longer that she was "all alone!" Oh! saddest combination of terms, when used in the sense to which Florence referred. The sudden revulsion in her feelings proved more than her weak and enfeebled powers could bear, and she sank fainting into Carrie's arms. Carrie's screams of terror and affright brought her brother to her assistance. He lifted Florence, crushed and withered as a flower in its bloom, and bore her to a sofa, then retreated from a scene so pain- fully sad and agitating. Fanny, the servant, administered the usual restoratives, and after a time, Florence slowly unclosed her eyes, as if fearful to dispel the sweet vision which lingered even in her partially suspended senses. Carrie was beside her-it was then more than a pleasant dream-it was a fixed, a blessed reality. Carrie's joy was unbounded at the restoration of her friend. She had been prostrated with grief for the impetu- osity which she feared had destroyed her; and now bent over her, calling her by every endearing name. How re- freshingly fell the honey-dew of love upon her poor, wilted heart! She wept and smiled by turns. "At length," said she, gazing upon her with a smile half-sunshine, half-shade, "you are still the happy, joyous being of other days, dearest Carrie-you have escaped the withering breath of sorrow-but H have been most griev- ously chastened. Let me not murmur, though, for my page: 220-221[View Page 220-221]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 220-221 220 FLORENCE; .A SEQUEL TO afflictions were merited, while you have been happy, be- cause you so deserved it." "Alas! my poor, poor Florence, your countenance told me of your sorrows ere I had spoken to you. They are past now, and may He who has so sorely smitten you remove his chastening rod." ? Carrie still knelt beside her, with arms twined round her, and face pressed closely to hers, and for a time they wept unrestrainedly together. fI A'When each became composed, Carrie explained how they cllanced to discover her. I. "m Do you know, Florence, that I am both a wife and mother?" said she, with a most exultant tone and manner. ( I woutld bring my darlings at once to you, but they are sleeping. Yes, I have now been married, dear Florence, four briglht and happy years. AMy husband, who is an ar- tist, spends the summer in touring through the country, seeking, amid its beautiful scenes, fresh inspiration for his genius. I have always accompanied him; indeed, I could not bear a long separation from dear George," continued she, smiling through some fugitive drops that momentarily dimmed the soft luster of her glances. "This summer we prevailed upon my brother to join our party, hoping that traveling might prove beneficial to his health, which, I regret to say, has been declining for some time. We are now en route for home--came here a few days since for a, brief sojourn, not anticipating the happiness which has re- sulted from it. We recognized your voice this evening, dearest Florence, and our old songs, and stood without the window until convinced that you were our Florence, when EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 221 I could no longer be restrained, but rushed to you, almost putting an end to your existence by my imprudence." "( Do not say so, Carrie, darling. If human agency might restore my failing powers, this sweet reunion would; but Carrie, f feel that my days are numbered-that it will not be long ere I go hence; and oh! I am thankful that we have met again, even though our time together be short. You will not leave me again, Carrie. How sad it would be to die without a friend near me, for I am not only father- less and motherless, but husbandless-childless!" "Never, dearest, never--we will never part more. You must lean upon my husband for protection. Already he loves you as a sister, for I have spoken of you so much to him, and have pined so sincerely for you; thinking, alas! that as you never wrote me, you had found a watery grave, or one within the stranger's land. Let my children be thy children, and my home, thine." Carrie remained with her through the night. She suf- fered much from nervous debility-frequently seemed about to relapse again into a swoon. She would startle in her sleep, crying out, in piteous tones, C"She is gone-she is gone," or, "Do not leave me, Carrie--Oh! do not leave me," and Carrie's powers were tasked to the utmost to soothe her excited nerves. The day succeeding, Florence, from excessive debility, was unable to rise, but Carrie's children were brought to her, and little Theo was nestled to sleep upon her bosom. It was happiness to be thus situated, but with all earth's happiness, there are drops of bitterness infused; and the golden head now pillowed upon her arm; reminded her sadly of one resting within 6t- stern, cold arms of death. page: 222-223[View Page 222-223]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 222-223 222 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO In the evening she was better and arose. Carrie would not permit any of Fanny's attentions, but with her own loving hands enrobed her in her cashmere robe-de-cham- bre, seated her in a comfortable chair, and smoothed her glossy tresses. Little Florence, possessing all her father's love for the beautiful, knelt beside Florence, in an ecstasy of admiration at the exquisitely rich borders and silken tassels of her dress. Carrie was all impatience for a meeting between her hus- band and Florence; and, notwithstanding her tender regard i for the health of her friend, she could not forbear request- ing permission to bring him to her room. i "Do not think me unmindful of your health, dear Flor- ence, if I express my great desire that George may have the pleasure of seeing you this evening. He is most anx- ious, I assure you, and will stay but a moment. I do not think it will injure you," said she, in half pleading tones. "Do you feel well enough to receive him?" Florence could not deny aly request of Carrie's, though owing to the depressed state of her health and spirits, she shrank painfully from an interview with a stranger, wishing him at ever so remote a distance, provided his beautiful wife and children remained. He came to her with a smile eloquent of the pleasure he felt in forming her acquaintance, and sitting beside her, soon succeeded, by his cordial and winning address, in in- gratiating himself into her affections, and infused into her drooping spirits, somewhat of the life and happiness of his. Each forbore to speak of their former meeting, but Flor- ence's glance of surprise, on their introduction, said plainly, "We have met before." EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 23 In a short time he became almost as dear to her as his Carrie was. She clung to him, as one bereft of every earthly protector save him; and when he told her that he, like herself, was without fraternal ties, and that she must supply that void in his heart, and that he would be to her "a brother, and proposed her returning with them to S-- vale, as soon as her health would admit, to make .that her future home, she loved him tenfold more for the interest he manifested in her bereaved and lonely condition. "Carrie," said he, " has been pining sadly for you this long time, but now, I opine, she will become as gay and happy as little Miss Florence, here"-with a. smile of af- fectionate pleasure, he stroked the silken curls of the little maiden who leaned upon him. "She needs companionship badly, for my business keeps me in the city the greater part of the time, and you must consent to make my absence endurable to her." Florence yielded to their earnest desires, saying sadly; "I go the more willingly that the state of my health warns me of my near dissolution, and I would have some kind and loving friends near me in that trying hour." "Do not speak thus despondingly, Florence," said Carrie, tears springing to her beautiful eyes. "Many happy days I fervently hope may be yours yet -on earth. You remember you were an invalid before when you went to S-- and how rapidly you recovered. Thus it will be again, I hope." Florence felt the vanity of the hope, yet she would not pain Carrie, by again reiterating her firm convictions that her life was tending rapidly to a close. Though Florence had been informed by Carrie, the first page: 224-225[View Page 224-225]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 224-225 224 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO evening they met, that the pastor was near her; and subse- quently by a message which Carrie delivered " that he would be most happy for an interview at as early a time as Z suited her convenience," she expressed no desires to see him, for the reason that she felt none. She had long out- 4 lived every vestige of her attachment to him, and subse- iF quent sorrows had almost effaced from her remembrance even the grief-pangs she had endured in consequence. I Very different was her affection for Carrie, which time had but served to strengthen, and make more fond and tender. But Carrie, she knew, had returned "measure for measure" of love. Neither was there connected with their affection, "guilt, grief, and suffering," as there had been with the other. He was to her now, even as a stranger. Carrie was anxiously solicitous that her brother should v be admitted to their happy circle, but forbore, from innate delicacy, to urge her wishes, until she should receive from Florence some intimation of her feelings on the subject. As soon as George understood how matters were, he de- termined to effect a meeting between them. Accordingly, i one evening, when about to enter Florence's room, he said t to Mr. ZNeville, whose eyes were turned thitherward with a longing glance, "I am surprised, Theodore, that you have not yet called on your old friend. She is sufficiently re- i! covered to give you an audience. Come, I will be your citacperon this evening-What say you?" He smiled a grateful acquiescence, and they entered the I room to;gether. Florence was lying on the sofa, her pale face looking yet more pale, from contrast with her sable clothes. Tears were fallen upon her ashen cheek, yet her expression denoted peace and contentment, that the storms EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 22 of sorrow which had once agitated her bosom were past. She was listening to Carrie, who was singing one of their sweet old songs. The pastor regarded her with deep emotion. His feeling heart was grieved to behold the ravages sorrow and suffer- : ing had wrought in that once blooming and joyous being. When the song was ended, George approached her, say- ! ing in his own vivacious manner; "Florence, I have brought t ' your old friend, Mr. Neville, to see you. I knew it would afford you pleasure, notwithstanding, as I have heard, he used to scold you sometimes for not having learned your lessons as well as you might." Florence rose to receive him, slightly smiling at George's remarks, her manner betraying neither pleasure, nor pain, but an indifference which must have surprised all present, it was so unlike the feeling which usually characterizes the meeting of friends who have long been sundered. It was not thus with Mr. Neville. - His emotion was plainly visible, as her hand rested within his, and he sought to express his pleasure at the meeting. Florence noticed his agitation, and thought "he is sur- prised to find-me so greatly changed in appearance." She perceived that-time had dealt less leniently with him than his sister--for there were traces of sorrow and care in- grained upon his brow. When he sought to address her by her changed name, the words died in his throat, 'and he said, with an effort to smile; "You will permit me to call you Florence, as I did in the days of which George has just spoken, when you page: 226-227[View Page 226-227]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 226-227 226 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO i1 were mv pupil, and H hope, was not the rigid tutor he affirms me to have been. Florence replied somethingr about preferring to be called thus by her friends; but her cold, repellant manner, chilled the pastor, and neither George's vivacity nor Carrie's gentle efforts could dispel the reserve of the meeting. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 227 CHAPTER XVII. Sweet valley, whose streams flow as sparkling and bright As the stars that descend in the depths of the night; Whose violets fling their rich breath in the air, Sweet spendthrifts of treasure the spring has flung there.--LADNo . With beating heart, and bosom wrung, As to a brothers arm she clung, Gently he dried the falling tear, And gently whispered hope and cheer.-SCOTT And sadness hath overshadowed, now, Thy once bright eye; But look on me, the prints of grief Still deeper lie.-OTHERWErl, ONCE more Florence stood within the "time honored" halls of the Seminary, having proceeded thither by slow and easy stages. The busy fingers of time had wrought sad changes there, too. The blood of the Paschal lamb was not found upon the door when the death angel passed, and its " first born" was fallen! The kind and good Mrs. Ormond was "' sunk to the sleep that knoweth no awaken- inug"-her pupils, scattered broadcast over the West, had. borne away with them the inestimable treasure of her moral and mental teachings, to enrich the new homes over which they were destined to preside. The Seminary property which had become the joint pos- session of Mr. Neville and Carrie, by Mrs. Ormond's will, had been refitted and adapted for a private residence, and was now Carrie's home. Months came and went, and there was'no apparent page: 228-229[View Page 228-229]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 228-229 228 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO improvement in Florence's health; but her friends hoped i that when the inclemency of winter was passed, and she could go forth into the life-giving, joy-restoring, earth- blessing air of spring, her health and strength would return. Thourgh the light and the joy of that once buoyant , hleart was quenched in sadness, there was much in the kindly affections of her friends to console her in her bereavements. Yet often there came to her, thoughts, like VL sighs from the spirit-land, of the lost "loved ones;" nor dlid her affection for them wane, because of the daily twining of her heart's tendrils in more increasing fondness around lher living friends. She anticipated George's returns from the city, every I evening, with almost as much pleasure as Carrie; and deeply felt the inspiration of his gay flow of spirits in the family circle. There was one member of the family who was not folded in the embraces of her heart, and strange as it may seem, it was he who once ruled over it with a sway so all- powerful as to threaten its utter destruction. Perhaps it was the painful remembrance of former bondage that now I sealed it agtainst him; or it may have been, that having been faithless to Harry, living, she would be true to him, dead; or it was, more probably, that the oft-repeated shocks which the finest, and most exquisitely tender sensibilities of her soul had sustained, had blunted them, or perhaps destroyed forever their recuperative power. All his over- X tures of friendship were received with the cold indifference of a totally estranged heart, or a heart dulled to the power of love. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 229 Her estranged behavior would have been the source -of deep pain to the pastor, under any circumstances, but pre- sent ones rendered it peculiarly aggravated; for now she was " oppressed and afflicted," and it was his office to seek to bind the wounded and chastened spirit up; and in the case of one so beloved, how great a happiness so to have done. But his efforts were rejected-she had surrounded herself with a reserve so impenetrable, he gave up all hopes of overcoming it, and ceased even to conjecture the cause of so strange and unnatural an aversion. All his old love was revived with their reunion, notwith- standing that the blooming graces, and wild, glad spirits of her earlier years were departed. In her marble features, chastened by sorrow, and the glancing forth from her dark eye Of glorious thought That scorn'd earth's vanities, there were charms which won a much higher meed of admiration than had the lost ones; and yetzhe knew that he was loving without the shadow of a hope. How sad, how terrible is that " sickness of the soul" which unrequited love inflicts! In the whole catalogue " of ills to which flesh is heir," where shall we find another which may com- pare with it? His spirit was bowed to the very dust--far more painful was his present situation, than formerly, when in bitterness of grief, he first learned that she was lost to him forever. So near to her, in one sense, yet separated by a vast frozen ocean, whose icy waste he might not pen- etrate. The wings of the Spring were once more unfettered, and gayly she sped over hill and dell, bestowing her floral and page: 230-231[View Page 230-231]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 230-231 230 }FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO choral treasures in lavish profusion on the earth; and the earth, like the mourner Job, cast from her the sackcloth and ashes of her desolation, and her " latter days" became yet more exceedingly prosperous, and abundantly blessed. The sanguine hopes of Florence's friends, in regard to her health, were not realized-spring's revivifying breath did not bring an accession of strength to her, but on the contrary, a constantly increasing languor pervaded her. H The pastor, too, was strangely changed in the past few months. He was thinner, and paler, and yet more, hope- lessly sad. Even the bright and joyous-hearted Qarrie seemed to have caught the infection. Those rosebud lips, once the perpetual haunt of the sunniest smiles, now often quivered beneath the pressure of a secret grief, and her gentle heart ached with its accumulation of sighs. By closely observing her brother, she had become convinced that her former surmises, in regard to the sentiments he entertained for Florence, were correct; and by an equally close observation of Florence, she had arrived at the sad conclusion that her heart was buried in the tomb forever- that for it there was no resurrection! But '"The best laid schemes of mice and men Gang aft ajee," says Burns; and so, often, the most carefully arrived at con- clusions, prove erroneous. Sincerely she mourned his desolation of heart, and its sad effects on his physical system. Yet the delicate nature of his sorrows forbade any attestations of her sympathy, other than in increased, and more affectionate attentions. Florence's own attention was directed to his despond- ency and failing health, by witnessing Carrie's efforts to EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 231 dissipate the former, and her melancholy anxiety for the latter. She did not fail to perceive the change that had come over him in the months elapsed since their meeting at the Virginia Springs; and she mourned for her friend Carrie, on whose clear skies clouds of sorrow were begin- ning to lower. "In the cup of life," mused she, ,"there is a constant mingling of the bitter with the sweet; and though happi- ness may be ours, sorrows must come naturally as " the sparks fly upward;" present joy, therefore, should be chastened by the anticipation of future grief, or present sorrow lose somewhat of its sting in the memory of joys to come. Heretofore, Carrie's life has been made up of sun- shine and gladness, but soon, very soon will she be called to taste the bitterness of sorrow. My own failing powers admonish me, that before this beauteous season will have reached its meridian, I shall have drawn the mantle of its flowers about me, and sunk, like a wearied child, upon its mother's breast, into the deep, dreamless death-sleep. Sadly she will mourn for me, her well beloved friend, as she has ever endearingly called me. But yet a deeper sorrow awaits her; for her kind and loving brother, too, seems rapidly hastening to the grave. How sad to think of it! I may pass away 4" as the morning cloud, or early dew," and my loss will be unnoticed and unfelt by all, save George and Carrie. But how great a void will his death create-how many a heart will sigh over the "killing frost" that destroyed him in his morning's prime. Alas! that so much worth, intelligence and usefulness shouldl be quenched in the darkness of the tomb. 'Death ever loves a shining mark,' 'tis said, and virtues, however transcend- page: 232-233[View Page 232-233]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 232-233 232 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO ent, may not exempt their possessor from his insatiate de- mands. But le is strangely sad, and melancholy of late- Once he was not so--Why is it? Death can have no terrors to the soul at peace with its God, and who views it as the unfolding of the gate for its release from a world of ills, to one of perpetual bliss! Earthly sorrows, perhaps, rest crushingly on his gentle spirit; and yet of what nature I cannot see, blest as he is in all the relations of life. Uni- versal respect and esteem are his, and he is inestimably rich in those jewels of the heart-friends of God's own providing-surely never was a brother so idolized as he. And yet it is strange that Carrie's and George's affection, deep as it is, should satisfy all the demands of his heart. Strange, indeed, that one of his eminently social qualities- one who so highly appreciates the delights of the domestic circle, should now be verging on the noon of life, without blaving, sought to secure for himself that which is so highly prized. And so he may have done. Perhaps it is affection unreturned that has shadowed his spirit in gloom. But that scarce can be. I remember, in my girlhood, to have thought, that there was not a maiden who could desire for more than his love-than the love of one, in whom every excellence of the human character seems combined--yes, I madly aspired to it, myself--I became frenzied with pas- sion-every pulse of my being was vitalized by it!" Unconsciously her thoughts had drifted away back to the past, and many incidents of that happy time rose up before her. As she sat by the window, her glance wandered from one loved spot to another, all of which were rendered dear by some trivial circumstance of other days in which he was associated. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 233 The calm, peaceful, motionless waters of her soul began to quiver-to thrill--to surge wildly-and to grow yet more troublous. She arose, to dispel the half pleasant, half painful reverie into which she was fallen, and went into the nursery. She did not caress little Theo with her. usual fondness-in fact, she turned away almost as sud- denly as she entered. Those large, blue eyes, with their mild, loving expression, and that massive forehead were the faithful portraiture of one she would fain drive from her thoughts. Her agitated bosom did not soon regain its composure-- the master passion which she had thought quite extinct, had risen from its long slumbers, and begun to resume its empire there. The fact that Mr. Neville, like herself, was a sufferer created a bond of sympathy between them, and her indifference was supplanted by an interest in his wel- fare, gradually becoming more tender and solicitous even than Carrie's. Once their eyes met, and her glance was so full of sym- pathy, the pastor's brightened suddenly with a mot thrill- ing luster. It fell upon her wilted heart as a dewdrop of heaven. A moment hence, and a sickening shudder per- vaded her. "Am I madly yielding to the tempter again? Have I not already suffered severely enough? Will not the bitter past suffice as a warning?"Fain would she have gathered. back her straying affections; but the leash unguardedly removed for a moment, they were now far beyond her powers of control. She avoided his presence-became yet more reserved-- thoughts of his death perpetually haunting her. So mor- 20 page: 234-235[View Page 234-235]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 234-235 234 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO bidly nervous had she become on that point, from the loss of all those most dear, that his pallid brow seemed to her already to bear the stamp of the grave. She was sitting, one evening, in the parlor, in the deep recess of a window, her mind tortured by the most gloomy apprehensions and dread of coming evil. She was all alone, for Carrie was walking on the lawn with her brother. In their peregrinations back and forth, she had an opportu- nity of observing them, and from time to time their tremu- lous tones were borne to her, though their words were indistinct. From their manner, and the unusual degree of sadness depicted on Carrie's countenance, she judged that he had been making a startling, and most' unpleasant communication, and was with melancholy persuasion trying to enforce Carrie's resignation. And so it proved. He had just announced his Intention of joining Dr. Melville, in New York, to accompany him in a tour of some years' duration through Europe and the Holy Land. "( You know, Caroline, I have long desired to visit those countries, and the present offers a most favorable opportunity. Beside, my health demands the change," said he-his voice faltered and he ceased speaking for some moments-then, as if he felt that his sister merited all his confidence, he unburdened the sorrows of his soul to her. Absence from Florence, he hoped, might enable him to overcome his affection, which he had found to be an impos- sibility so long as he remained near her. Darkness came on, and Mr. Neville and Carrie re-entered the parlor, and sat down together. The room was bril- liantly lighted, but Florence sat where heavy shadows fell, and was unperceived by them. Still continuing the con- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. . 235 rersation, Mr. Neville drew forth from his bosom a-folded paper and handed it to Carrie. "You have heretofore refused to accept my part of the property bequeathed us by our lamented sister; but -under present circumstances, Caroline, you surely will refuse no longer. Accept it as a bequest to my little namesake. When I am. gone----" A deep sob, or rather moan 'of agony, broke startlingly on them, and checked their further conversation, and Car- rie's rising tears. Looking in the direction whence it came, they discovered Florence convulsed with emotion, her head buried in her hands. Forgetful of the sorrow which- the prospect of a long separation from her brother would naturally cause, Carrie hastened to her, and bent consolingly over her. She was alarmed at witnessing her throes of agony, but did not question her of the cause, naturally attributing it to the memory of some former affliction. The pastor looked yearningly at her, as though he, too, longed to approach with offers of consolation, but did not. He arose, and left the room. The night was spent by Florence, as many others had been--in sorrow and tears. Her morbid and gloomy imagi- nation had- given to the conversation she had overheard a widely erroneous construction. She thought he was speak- ing of his death, and it seemed to her, by so doing, that he himself had issued the verdict against his own life. Dole- fully--ah, dolefully! tolled her heart's knell for the death of its last, fond hope. page: 236-237[View Page 236-237]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 236-237 236 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO CHAPTER XVIII. Some dream that they can silence, when they will, The storm of passion, and say, 'Peace, be stilt;' But 'T17s far, and no farther,' when address'd To the wild wave, or wilder human breast, Implies authority, that never can, -That never ought to be the lot of man.-CowPER's PROGRESS OF ERROR. Affectionate in look, And tender in address, as well becomes A messenger of grace to guilty men. CowPER. A chiel 's amang us takin' notes. BURNS. FLORENCE was too unwell to leave her chamber during the next day, but in the evening Carrie prevailed on her to come down into the back parlor with her, as she was all alone. "George," said she, "' will not return this evening, and Theodore is gone, I know not whither. I shall be very lonely unless you take compassion on me and grant me the pleasure of your society. Come, Florence, and I will read, or sing, or do whatever you may suggest to hasten the march of the dreary hours. Dear George, how wearily the evenings drag when he is gone! How much we miss him!" Even the slight effort required to reach the parlor over- came Florence with fatigue, and she sank upon the sofa nearest her. Carrie comfortably arranged its pillows, and after bestowing sundry little attentions, which her affection prompted, sat down by the table and began turning over the richly-bound volumes that adorned it. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 237 ( Shall we continue our pilgrimage with Chaucer and his 'nine and twenty in a compagnie' to the holy shrine of Canterbury?" said she, opening the volume at the page, where George had left off reading the evening preceding. "(I scarcely think we will find their' tales' as entertaining as did the Arabian prince the' thousand and one' related to him by his charming wife. I confess I do not very much admire their antique phraseology. Now, if George were here to hear this, he would laughingly term me a modern Fadladeen. Ah! here is Motherwell. Though he is called a minor poet he has written some very fine things. Have you ever read his Sabbath Summer Noon, Florence?" No, I think not." "Then I shall do myself the pleasure of reading it to you this evening." She threw into her voice a " deep, unbroken dreaminess" of tone, that admirably harmonized with the spirit of the poem; and had just finished reading, with somewhat more enthusiasm of manner, the closing stanzas- "So, even now this hour hath sped In rapturous thought o'er me; Feeling myself with nature wed,- A holy mystery,- A part of earth, a part of heaven, A part, great God I of Thee,"- when the pastor entered the room. "Thank you, dear brother," said she, lookingup smilingly at him, " for this opportune appearance. I have been try- ing to bring before Florence's mental ken some of Mother- well's beauties; but I will pass the book over to you, knowing that you will be much more successful in the page: 238-239[View Page 238-239]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 238-239 238 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO attempt than I. Your elocution, and George's, give me quite an humble opinion of mine." 2 He took the volume extended to him, and whether by accident or design, turned to the touching lyric "Jeanie Morrison." Florence was still reclining on the sofa, lulled into a sort of dreamy repose by Carrie's reading. Her eyes were closed, and their long, dark lashes lay like a somber cloud upon her marble cheek. As his low, rich tones fell upon her ear, she gave herself up, for a brief time, to the most delicious sense of happiness. She did not notice the vibra- tions of his voice in reading the lines in which the poet refers to the "sweet time-sad time," when he and his "young love" bent over the same page, and exclaims "Thy lips were on thy lesson, but My lesson was in thee," or in the touching lines where he speaks of his love: "The fount that first burst frae this heart, Still travels on its way; And channels deeper as it rins, The luve o' life's young day." She did not observe, as we said before, that his voice became slightly tremulous, and was enriched with a deeper pathos as he gave utterance to these sentiments of the poet-she heard not a word of what he was reading-she was conscious only of his presence, and the music of his voice; all the long slumbering chords of gladness in her bosom were waked to life, and yielded exquisite melody to their magical influence. Then a shade passed over her. "This must not, must not be. Why should I indulge in EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. t 39 a dream of happiness, even for a moment? Is it not all delusive? Have I not proven it to be the " vanity of vani- ties." Can it be that I am again yielding my heart to an earthly passion? Has a new affection sprung from the ashes of the past? Yes, yes, I do love him-not wildly, madly, passionately, as in my girlhood, but a "thousand fold" more tenderly; 'tis folly to chide myself for that which may not be avoided. Scarce might an anchorite know of all his nobleness of mind and soul and not be softened into love for him. Yet, oh! that dreadful thought! must he too, die?---go down to the grave! Must the light of that glorious intellect be lost in the tomb? I will go hence-I cannot remain-if the thought frenzies me, what must the reality prove? I shall go home--even my gloomy home will be preferable to remaining here to witness the fading away of another heart-treasure." He finished the poem, and returned the book to the table on which his elbow was resting. His head reclined upon his uplifted hand, and whether it was that because Florence was lying just in the range of his vision, or that the eye will naturally seek the most pleasing object to rest on, we know not, but so it was, his gaze was riveted on her. "Poor Motherwell," said Carrie, " he passed through life with a lonely heart; how sad to think that the termination of their brief and happy school days separated those loving hearts forever. I believe Mrs. Murdock, formerly Jeanie Morrison, never knew of the passion she had inspired in the breast of the poet; and that her memory would be pre- served through coirpfig time by the amber of his verse. Truly said sweet L. E. L. (A poet's love is immortality,' page: 240-241[View Page 240-241]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 240-241 240 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO How many of the gifted sons of song have been dealt with, thus unkindly, by fate. Byron, Burns, Petrarch, Mother- well and others have been mourners over the tomb of a first and best love; yet George, who always makes the best of untoward events, would say that their loss has been our unspeakable gain, since by it our literature has become enriched with some of its most beautiful productions." The pastor replied to her remarks in an abstracted man- ner ; nor did the various artifices to which little Florence resorted, to attract his attention, meet with their usual suc- cess. She had always been a great pet of his, and was quite spoiled by the attentions he had bestowed on her. But latterly her artless innocence and winning manners had failed to delight him as formerly. Ite was burdened with a sorrow beyond the graces of childhood to lighten. After many overtures of love on her part, which were not re- warded by even a passing notice, for his glances were still fixed on Florence, in vexatious disappointment, she burst into a violent fit of weeping. "AWhy, Florie, darling, what is the matter now?" said Carrie, " come here and tell mamma what ails you!" Slie wept and sobbed for some moments on her mother's bosom, and to her oft-repeated inquiries, What had caused her grief? sobbingly replied, looking toward her uncle, "He does not love me, any more, since aunt Florence came-he only loves her." Florence had risen from her recumbent position, and was sitting where the rays of the lamp shone directly upon her. She started-trembled violently-and the blood swept in torrents to her pallid brow. Her eyes were involuntarily turned to Mr. Neville's, and there was that in their expres- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 241 sion which he was strangely puzzled to interpret. Certainly there was neither disgust nor aversion, but .rather an expres- sion which sought to know if he confirmed the child's art- less declaration. Carrie colored quite as deeply as Florence, and sought to dispel the painful embarrassment the child had innocently caused, by saying, "Why Florence, Florence, mamma is pained at your selfishness. Are you unwilling that your uncle should love any but yourself? Fie-fie-have I not often told you that our blessed Saviour commands us to love every one?" The child hid her face in her mother's bosom; her sensi- tive little heart wounded afresh by this reproof. "Come to me Florie," said Mr. Neville, in a gently coaxing manner. "Come-kiss me now, and tell me that you forgive me for my neglect lately.. I have been very unwell, and it was owing to this, and not that I had ceased to love you less." She was soon prattling merrily on her uncle's knee-in truth, supporting the most of the conversation, for he was a listener rather than a participator, and Florence had sunk back upon the sofa in silence, and her mother had gone to see little Theo safely laid to rest in his crib. April-hearted childhood! how many a sigh is heaved over thy vanished hours-hours when the sunshine of glad- ness so rapidly succeeded the- clouds and showers of sad- ness and grief. Carrie re-entered. "Come, love," said she, addressing little Florence, " it is your hour for retiring." The child threw her arms round her uncle in joyous gay- ety of heart, and kissed him; then sprang down, and ran 21 page: 242-243[View Page 242-243]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 242-243 242 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO to Florence to bid her good-night also. Florence's eyes were filled with tears, and her lips quivered as she bent over to embrace her. The observant little maiden saw her emotion, and gazed at her a moment half wistfully, half timidly-then throwing her arms about her, she covered her face with kisses, and said, contritely, "I will not be so naughty any more-he may love you the best." Again Florence's face was suffused with crimson, and her agitation was apparent both to Mr. Neville and Carrie- then by a mighty effort she grew calm again. Carrie's manner was less gentle than usual when lead- ing the child from the room. She was annoyed and dis- pleased with her, and for the first time there was no plead- ing voice within seeking to smooth over her little errors and offenses. Mr. Neville and Florence were now alone together, after a lapse of some years. Did either think of the evening on the hill side, when they had last been similarly situated? Florence's expressive countenance did not betray such to be the case; she seemed rather to have sunk into a melan- choly stupefaction, and to be wholly unconscious that she was then, or ever had been, in his presence. The profound silence was unbroken by the pastor; unlike a more sanguine lover, he did not take advantage of the propitious moment to confirm little Florence's revela- tion, but sat trying to solve the problem of Florence's agitation at the communication; seeking to arrive at some satisfactory understanding of the emotions which gave it birth; whether they were of sorrow, anger, pain, he could scarce hope, of pleasure. The opportune moment for ascertaining from her own EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 243 lips the true state of the case was gone; for Florence, sud- denly rousing to a sense of their solitary situation, arose, and with quiet dignity, bowed and retired. Mr. Neville sat long absorbed in thought. Several cir- cumstances had occurred recently to convince him that he was not wholly without interest to her, notwithstanding her reserve and distant manner. Her agitation on the present evening, and the mysterious glance that he encountered, and which still haunted him, were other proofs; and though he was above the petty vanity of his sex, he could not divest himself of the idea, after mature-deliberation, that he had in some manner caused her emotions of grief on the evening preceding, which occurred just after his conversa- tion with his sister, part of which she had overheard. When Carrie returned to the parlor for a short period before retiring, as his eye encountered hers, the words seemed almost involuntarily to spring from his lips, f( Caro- line, did you discover the origin of Florence's distress on yesterday evening?" "I do not know that I did, but I thought from a remark of hers, after we reached her chamber, that it was occasioned by our conversation ;" and Carrie's lips began to quiver at the remembrance of her brother's contemplated absence. We may say in all truth, that this was the onlyoccasion in the pastor's life, when having caused pain to another afforded him a pleasure; but we must admit the humiliat- ing fact that our pastor, with all his genial qualities of heart was really overjoyed to have his opinion confirmed by Carrie's-was overjoyed 'to find that his purposed foreign tour was a subject of sorrow to Florence. Love is a strange banisher of sleep-that night one page: 244-245[View Page 244-245]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 244-245 244 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO would have thought the pastor seized with a wonderful desire for astronomical observations, for he spent the greater part of it in traversing the portico; yet were his thoughts not bound with "the sweet influences of the Pleiades," though from time to time his gaze was uplifted to the glittering dome above. His brain resembled one of the labyrinthine gardens of the East; through its "mazy windings" his thoughts wandered on and on without arriv- ing at any definite point, but conscious of being surrounded by rich foliage, fragrant flowers, and other delicious acces- sories. It was the more strange, that he did not seek to be refreshed by sleep, since on the following day he was to be arduously engaged in a remote p;rt of his pastoral bounds. Florence, on reaching her room, gave Fanny positive orders to have all things in readiness by the next week, for their departure south. "I scarce- know how," said she, "to communicate my determination to my friends. I fear they will be much pained by it; but there is no alternative, I must return home immediately." The girl was quite startled and dismayed by these un- expected commands. Really, and sincerely attached to her mistress, she rejoiced with her, when she rejoiced, and mourned with her in her seasons of mourning. It was a great source of happiness then to her, that her mistress had found friends, who by their kindness and love, so nearly supplied the places of the lost ones. Fearing the consequences of her return to the gloomy seclusion and isolation of her own home, she ventured to remonstrate with her. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 245 "I'm sure I can't see how you can leave the friends you love so well, and that love you so well too. There's Mr. and Mrs. Clifton, and little Florence and Theo, God bless their little souls, and there's Mr. Neville too " "Say no more, Fanny-you know I am inured to such trials, having lost nearer and dearer friends even than these." Much as Florence's spirits had been depressed for some weeks, they sank many degrees lower at witnessing all day. long Fanny folding and arranging things preparatory to their being packed away for their journey. Although con- scious of her sluggish movements, which were always so, when the task was an unpleasant one, as at present, she could not chide her for her tardiness. And so Fanny's hands, usually so active and expert in the tasks appointed them, became less and less nimble, in the hope that her mistress would yet relent and countermand her orders. page: 246-247[View Page 246-247]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 246-247 246 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO CHAPTER XIX. The moon is up, and yet it is not night- Sunset divides the sky with her-a sea Of glory streams along. As Day and Night contending were. CHnDE HAROLID Ilis love was an eternal plant; Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun. HAMLLET. IIow silver sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears! ROMEO AND JULIET. I loved, and was beloved again; In sooth, it is a happy doom. MAZEPPA. "FLORENCE," said Carrie, entering her room in the evening, dressed for a walk, and looking brighter and hap- pier than she had done for some weeks, "I am going to the gate to meet George, who is coming by the stage this even- ing. Will you not accompany me? The evening is so de- lightful, I am sure you will be benefited by a walk. If you become weary, and find the distance too great, you can rest on the bridge, while I go on to meet dear George. Dear, dear George," and tears covered her soft blue eyes, "how long a time seems to have elapsed since he left us. I shall be quite overjoyed to see him." Florence could not resist a smile, for this long absence of which Carrie had spoken so feelingly, nearly exceeded four days. Marriage and its attendant cares, had not damped the ardor of her first love-so far from it, sepa- EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 247 rations at this time were far more hard to be endured than in the earlier days of their wedded life. It was a most gorgeous sunset. In all the forms of the beautiful which Nature delights to assume, there is none more pleasing than the decline of the "god of day," on a spring or summer's evening, as draped with rich, heavy cloud-folds of Rome's imperial colors, with slow, majestic pace, as if. conscious of his lordly supremacy, he retires from the sight of the world's vulgar gaze. It was, indeed, a "most delightful evening," as Carrie had said; and so Florence thought as they wended their way slowly down the lawn, and in a glow of amor patria, she felt that Italia's far famed evenings never yet equaled it--midway between winter and summer-born of the embrace of the chill breezes of the one, and the hot breath of' the other. She halted on the bridge to enjoy the sweet prospect it afforded. The stream came laughing, and dancing, and singing along like a gay-hearted, frolicksome child. The sweet-scented violets had obeyed to the letter the Scriptural injunction, "Be ye fruitful, and multiply," and were now spread out in every direction into broad, irregular patches, shedding upon the evening air the most delicious of all odors. The golden butter-cups still looked eagerly cloud- ward for their nightly draught of honeyed dew, and the low border flags, with their blossoms of royal purple, con- tinued to follow the graceful sinuosities of the stream. The face, of Nature was redolent of happiness as a bride's; and Carrie, in pleased anticipation of her hus- band's return, threw off the melancholy that had oppressed her of late, and chatted gayly and happily as they'walked page: 248-249[View Page 248-249]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 248-249 248 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO along. But Florence's depression was not removed. The joy and gladness around her, seemed to give, by very con- trast, a darker tinge to the sorrows of her own bosom. Musing sadly, she had reached, ere she was aware of it, the large gate which was within a few yards of the turn- pike. Carrie's patience was not destined to a very severe taxa- tion, for very soon the soft sound of the stage horn came winding around the hills, awakening a thousand echoes, and the four majestic horses bore the stage, with its crowded population, rapidly onward, pausing for a moment for George to dismount, then dashing furiously on again- filling the valley with the sweet, mellow tones of the horn. George sprang down the steep sides of the turnpike, to Carrie, who stood holding the gate apart, and clasped her, his fair young wife, to his fond heart. But not the happi- ness of meeting her, whose sweet and gentle love had shed such a hallowed light around his hearthstone, caused him to forget the pale mourner at her side. Many were the kind inquiries lie made in regard to her health, and most cordial were his expressions of pleasure at finding her able to walk out to meet him. He repeated again his assurances that she would erelong be as blooming as Carrie, and thus, with these kindly endeavors, sought to lull her into forget- fulness of all her sorrows. "But come," said Carrie, twining her arm in his, "I know you are impatient to be with Florence and Theo, and it is quite time we were returning, for it is growing late." "' Ah! there comes Theodore; we will wait till he joins us." Slowly he came down the hill-side, his hat drawn low EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 249 upon his brow, as one lost in deepest meditation. He was not aware of their vicinity to him, until, as he entered the gate, George's cheerful tones accosted him. He extended his hand to him and replied to his greeting, but-his eyes wandered to Florence, who was stooping over a clump of tiny blue flowers, with long, slender, grassy leaves. "Now, Carrie, we will go," said George, starting for- ward. When Florence rose up from her stooping position, Mr. Clifton and Carrie had already advanced some steps, leav- ing, as it was apparent, Mr. Neville to guide her feebler footsteps. From their earliest acquaintance, Mr. Neville had been a close observer of the variations of her countenance, and now detected the traces of an unusual degree of melancholy; and Florence's heart was smitten afresh at witnessing the fond meeting of the young husband and wife. Alas! there were no such meetings for her!-no heart swelled with joy at her approach!-no arms were opened to enfold her! and she stooped over the clustering flowers to hide her falling tears. "Florence," said the pastor, in tones the most tender and compassionate, as he offered his arm for her accep- tance, "lean on me; your walk, I fear, has wearied you." Mechanically she placed her arm in his, and endeavored to hasten her steps to keep pace with those of George and Carrie; but many months of ill-health having deprived her of all physical exertion, she was much fatigued by the short walk she had taken, and her steps were now pain- page: 250-251[View Page 250-251]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 250-251 250 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO fully slow and languid. Her feet seemed, when they touched the earth, to be glued to itshe scarce had power to raise them again. It was an evening when the empire of night began the mo- ment the day had ceased to be. There was no gradual mel- lowing down of the light-beams - no fading away of the glorious rays-no lingering death of day; for the moon, who stood pale and trembling in the august presence of her " lord of creation," grew wondrously bright when he had withdrawn, and "smiled a smile" of such silvery radi- ance upon the valley, it was scarce conscious of the change. It was the peculiarly bright and loving smile ever bestowed on favored ones; and sure we are, in her peregrinations round the earth, she found no spot that possessed greater claims to her regard and admiration - none more beautiful or lovable ever looked up to her for a blessing - nor, we are equally sure, did any receive more abundantly of that which she alone had to bestow. Never were there such moonlights as those of S-- valley. As Mr. Clifton and Carrie drew near the house, their steps were accelerated by seeing the children playing upon the portico. Little Florence soon perceived her father, and sprang forward to meet him --the nurse, also, ran out with the baby, and as he clasped his children to his breast, his rich, manly tones of affection, their exclamations of delight, and Carrie's happy laugh, formed a chorus of joy which greeted the ears of Mr. Neville pleasantly, but Florence sadly-most sadly. All her forced composure gave way on beholding their hbppy reunion. She leaned for support upon the railing of the EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 251 bridge which they were then crossing, saying, with mourn- ful earnestness: "I must go hence - I must go hence. Not yet is all selfishness rooted out of my soul-Carrie's happiness dis- tracts me! How enviable her situation! -how desolate mine! While she has a husband, children, friends, I, alas! have been deprived of all!-for me, earth's ties are all severed - I am but a lone and leafless tree, which the rude blast delights to 'mock and scourge!' and yet, I know that He who hath ordered this, hath done that which seemeth to Him good; but when my heart would bow itself in resignation to his will, alas! the weakness of the flesh rebels, and I feel that 'He hath multiplied my wounds without cause.' This burst of confidence, though the betrayal of her im- pulsive nature, and not a voluntary act, gave the pastor the opportunity to pour out the long suppressed words of consolation which he had so pined to offer. Instinctively he clasped the hand which rested on his arm, as he spoke to her of those balm drops which the Saviour has given us in his holy book, for the healing of the wounds inflicted on the children of men. He sought to remove that feeling of loneliness and isolation which overpowered her, by re- minding her of Carrie's love, of George's friendship-and when he would have spoken of his own sentiments, his voice grew tremulous, and his hand unconsciously tightened its pressure. He reverted to the dawn of their friendship-- to those days when she came to him for instruction, and each succeeding one rendered her more and more dear; and' perhaps his eloquence had never been so powerfully exerted, in the most crowded assemblies, as upon that page: 252-253[View Page 252-253]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 252-253 252 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO balmy, moonlit night, with but a single listener. He told of all his love-his deep, abiding, deathless love - of his hopeless despair, on ascertaining her engagement to ano- ther-of the bitterness of his grief at their separation, final, as he supposed - and of his melancholy resignation to her marriage. Then he spoke of the poignancy of his sorrow at finding her broken in health and spirits at the Springs in Virginia, but most of all, for her cold estrangement and re- jection of all his proffers of friendship then, and since; and in concluding, earnestly besought her, though she might not share in the tenderness of his feelings, at least, to deny him no longer the sweet privileges of yore-to grant him the same place in her affections which she so freely gave to George. Florence's eyes were uplifted to his, as if doubting her sense of hearing; but when she saw there confirmed the (' lad tidings" which he had spoken, her emotions, which had been suddenly checked in amazement, by the startling developments he was making, grew fearfully violent again. The happiness of that moment, who may describe? when, after years of sorrow, the boon -the inestimable boon of his love, for which the morning freshness of her heart had been blighted, was now her blest possession-the truth con- firmed by his own lips! - the knowledge was almost too overwhelmingly blissful to be borne in her enfeebled state. Scarce did it seem possible that the gloomy fetters were to be unbound forever, and that henceforth the light--the glorious, dazzling light, of love's own delicious sky, should be above and around her. Fearfully, and yet more fearfully her emotions increased. The pastor, whose calmer nature never permitted him to be EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 253 roused into such outhursts of passion, was amazed and deeply distressed to witness her violent and protracted agi- tation. He was at length forced to put his arm about her, to sustain her faltering strength, and implored her pardon for the distress his imprudence had caused. "Forgive me, Florence," said he, in tones touchingly sad, " that my grief at witnessing your unhappiness, should have overcome my sense of prudence, and led me to utter sentiments which I perceive your heart condemns -I have indeed acted most unwisely. Proper considerations for the delicate state of your health should have withheld me from introducing exciting or unpleasant topics." But thotigh utterance was for the present denied her, the heart of the pastor was made to thrill suddenly with rapture, as she rested her head confidingly in his bosom, and her eyes, glistening with the " heart's own dew," were uplifted to his-not to reproach him-but to express that which her lips were powerless to utter; and as he bent over her, and his lips sought hers, in that moment of bliss, past sorrows were remembered no more -were lost in the deluge of happiness which swept over them. For a time they were silent. "Words are little aid To love, whose deepest vows are ever made By the heart's beat alone. O! silence is Love's own peculiar eloquence of bliss." Then again the low, rich tones of his voice broke the silence of night, and he poured forth anew all the hoarded love of years. Florence did not mar their present happiness, by lifting the vail from her gloomy past -she would fain listen in silent rapture to his vows of love. page: 254-255[View Page 254-255]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 254-255 254 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO During the course of his conversation he remarked, that a few evenings previous to his sister's death, in a private conversation between them, when urging him to marry, she had told him that Florence's affection for him had equaled his for her; and yet, unlike him, when insurmountable obstacles were opposed to their union, she had yielded to the force of circumstances--had ceased to pine over that which was unavoidable, and had married, and was, doubt- less, very happy. "But I knew, dearest," said he, "that she was deceived by your ardent and enthusiastic friend- ship, even as I myself had been at one time. The sad teachings of experience had shown me that the heart may not so readily transfer its affections from one object to another." She shuddered at the truth of his remark - for hers, alas! when bound by every tie to another, had long re- fused to be separated from his. But she did not thus say to him-- nor did he question her of the time when it had been given to him. It was enough that it was his C" now, henceforth, and forever." Half an hour later he suddenly remembered the impru- dence of exposing her to the night air, and folding her mantle about her, to protect her from its unhealthful influ- ences, he drew her arm within his, preparatory to returning to the house. Florence was aroused from her blissful trance, and as she glanced up, the radiant 'disc of the moon attracted her attention. A rush of pleasant and painful remembrances came upon her. She stood in the place where they had first met; and the place, also, and under similar circumstances, for the mcon was then flood- ing them with her silvery rays, where in an ecstasy of hap- i EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 255 piness, such as the present, she had believed herself be- loved, yet afterward, days and nights of agony had proved the hope to be " baseless as the fabric of a dream." Might she not again be deceived? She clasped her hands toge- ther, gazing heart-breakingly upon him, and exclaimed: "Oh! this is some sweet delusion--there can be no such happiness in reserve for me!" He dissipated her gloomy fears, as they proceeded up ;he lawn, by again reiterating his vows of love, and direct- ng her thoughts to the bright and happy future before ;hem. One moment they paused on the threshold to luxuriate n the consciousnes of being alone together, then re-entered he parlor, where Mr. Clifton sat reading a late number of he Artist's Journal. He conducted her to a sociable, upon which she sank ale and exhausted; thin he strode hastily across the room bring her a glass of water. As he bent over her in pre- enting it, George, who was glancing inquisitively over one orner of his paper, a deeply interested spectator of their roceedings, heard him utter, despite his low tones, some- ling which sounded very much like reproaches for the jurious excitement he had caused her that evening. The ving glance, with which she sought to dispel his fears, I rilled Clifton's breast, such as none other had ever done *fore save when his Carrie had for the first time smiled us on him. Sincerely did he rejoice in the joy of those long loving d sorely tried hearts-and as Mr. Neville turned to place the glass, he threw his paper down-he could read more that evening-he was by far too much overjoyed page: 256-257[View Page 256-257]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 256-257 2,6 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO at the consummation of that for which he had so devoutly wished. Just then Carrie came in, and seating herself on a low chair beside George, resumed her work-that of hem- ming a ruffle for little Theo. She had been busied with her domestic affairs, and was not aware of the protracted absence of her brother and Florence, and she now looked up with pleased surprise at his taking the vacant seat beside her. She was gratified beyond measure that their evening walk should have banished the cold estrangement which had so long existed between them, and restored the friendly intercourse of former years. This, she felt, would afford -a partial alleviation to her brother's sorrows. But George was quite too full of the subject to remain longer silent-quite too sincere a participator in their hap- piness not to make it known. ' Florence," said he, "' my conscience has been burdened quite long enough with a sin against you. This very even- ing I must confess it, crave your pardon, and I have great reason to hope, receive absolution. Do you remember our first meetincg? It was at a tableau vivant, in New Orleans, where you appeared, not as ' violet-crowned, pure, sweetly- smiling Sappho,' but the Sappho of the Leucadian rock. Upon that memorable evening, as you were aware- at the time, I injured you by a premature, hastily-formed, and openly-expressed opinion of you. I condemned you for that of which you were not guilty. Some months later I accidentally ascertained my error, and would fain have made reparation for the injustice I had done you, by con- veyingf to you some most pleasant and precious intelligence, which I had fortunately become possessor of in S--- EARLY :'. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 257 valley; but I learned from Carrie, you were even then mar- ried, and the -time was gone when my communication would have availed anything of a pleasant nature." Carrie looked up in pained surprise that George should have, in ever so remote a way, injured the feelings of one whom she so tenderly loved as Florence; and said in gently reproving tones-- "Why, George, how could you?- " "Florence," said Mr. Neville, looking somewhat per- plexed, " to what is George alluding?" "Oh! nothing, I suspect, of much importance to you," said Clifton, looking peculiarly and mischievously pleasant. "It was only that when I was in New Orleans, I discovered that its courted and idolized belle, not content with whole platoons of hearts falling before her in deepest adoration, was pining in secret for one in the gift of a certain pastor, whose home was to be found in one 'of. the beautiful and secluded valleys of the Ohio." Carrie was positively shocked at George's abruptness. She had never known him to act rudely before; and Mr. Neville seemed equally astounded. He turned to Florence, and in a voice choked with emotion, asked---"Is this true?" Florence's own rising emotions again checked her powers of speech, and while tears gathered fast on her long pen- ciled lashes, she bowed her affirmation to George's remark. "Come, come, Neville, let us have no more long faces," said George, ," and no more tears, Florence, I pray you. This evening, when I arrived, I began to think I had actu- ally mistaken my home, and fallen on a house of melan- cholics. Here was Theodore looking the very embodiment of a funereal sermon-Florence, the personification of melan- 22 page: 258-259[View Page 258-259]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 258-259 258 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO choly-and even Carrie, though she tried to smile a welcome upon me, like a true little wife as she is, looked so doleful, I expected to hear that Theo had his cranium cracked by an unmerciful blow from one of his drumsticks, -or that pet Florie had fallen and injured the shape of her Grecian nose." "i Pet Florie" had entered meantime, and with the privi- lege of a spoiled favorite, ran to her uncle, whom she had not seen since the previous evening, and climbed upon his knee. Her account of the rare and beautiful presents her l papa had brought her, was checked by observing the tears which remained upon Florence's lashes, despite the quiet, happy smile which illumined her face. The events of the previous evening were recalled to little Florence's memory by the sight of her tears, and she leaned forward, and putting her soft, dimpled arms around her, said: "Do not weep-I will not, indeed I will not do so any more, if he loves you ever so much the most." Mr. Neville untwined her arms from about Florence, and said smilingly--"And are you really willing, Florie, that I should love her more than you, or any one beside? But whlat if I take her away from you, to live with me some- where, perhaps a great many miles from your home?" The young mother of the child was quite as much per- plexed and mystified by the conversation of the evening as she-but finally things were all explained, and it was evi- dent to the satisfaction of all parties-none more so than to little Florence, who said, with a wonderful outhurst of joy: "Then you are my real aunt-Mary said you were not--that I had none--only mamma wished me to call you EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 259 so because she loved you as a sister; but you are my own, own aunt. I will go and tell her so this very moment." Her mother caught her as she was running from the ( room, brimful of joy at the pleasant intelligence she had to communicate, and endeavored to explain to her that it would not be prudent to inform Mary of this just now. Amid the happiness of this joyous evening the pastor was not unmindful of the Source from whence those bless- ings came; and before retiring, he bowed himself, in the family circle, by the side of her so soon to be his own, his wedded wife, and poured forth his thanks in tones choked with emotion, for all the blessings of life, and especially for this, the crowning one, and besought Him to smile graciously on their union. \ page: 260-261[View Page 260-261]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 260-261 260 FLORENCE A SEQUEL TO CHAPTER XX. No might, nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape. SIAKSPEARE. But let me now a while survey Our Madam o'er her evening tea; Surrounded with her noisy clans Of prudes, coquettes, and harridans; When, frightened at the clamorous crew, Away the god of Silence flew. Or how should I, alas! relate The sum of all their senseless prate. SIFrT. WAs there ever a marriage in city, town or rural district whose preliminaries the goddess of gossip did not esteem her own exclusive possession? We very much fear there is no exception, save the one Milton so beautifully records. Usually, when society is about to stagnate for the want of news, there comes, most opportunely, a godsend in the shape of a rumor that some one is to be married. Then the gossiping world brightens up and feels as overjoyed as did the ancient Athenians at having "something new to tell and to hear." What a vast amount of sympathy is expended on eachl of the parties concerned for their unfor- tunate selection! How various and manifold are the evils predicted which must result from so unsuitable a match! Upon such occasions every maiden becomes an oracle- every matron a prophetess; and strange do say, their pro- phesies all assume the dusky hue of the ill-omened bird's plumage. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 261 The inhabitants of S--ville were made to "drink the wine of astonishment," by the announcement of their pas- tor's contemplated marriage. Occupying the position he did in the social circle, and in their affections, it was most natural that such an occurrence should create quite a sensation. He had so long remained single-so often resisted the entreaties of his friends on this subject, and had once pub- licly expressed his determination never to marry, that it was difficult for some to credit it, even when it was ascer- tained beyond all doubt that he was engaged-and to their great horror and regret, to the rich southern lady visiting Mrs. Clifton. "The older heads" felt themselves wonderfully ag- grieved that he should have entertained' serious thoughts "of taking such a step" without first consulting them. On a certain evening they assembled themselves together, to discuss this startling, and deeply momentous topic, over a cup of tea-" that most delicious and invigorating bever- age," as the talented, young Mattie Griffith denominates it; and doubtless, that inveterate old tea-drinker, Dr. Johnson, would greatly applaud the name with which she has 6hris- tened it for all time. But while we deny its claims to being entitled a "delicious beverage," we freely, and feel- ingly admit all that has been said of its invigorating proper- ties. How many a social gathering would have languished into a downright sensible, harmless affair, but for its invi- gorating influence! how many benevolent souls, burdened with the weight of all their neighbors' affairs, would have failed to present them to the public in the manner they deserved, but for its magical powers! how many lips would page: 262-263[View Page 262-263]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 262-263 262 FLORENCE ; A SEQUEL TO have labored with as little success as did AEsop's mountain, to express their just sense of the faults and failings of "their nearest and dearest friends" but for this most exhilarating fluid! Sancho Panza, of mirth-provoking memory, bath pronounced a blessing on the man who first invented sleep- so do we now invoke the same on the male or female celes- tial who first manufactured tea into a drinkable state. The discussion was opened by one who said she " had heard the straight of the thing ; for Mrs. Clifton's servants had told her, and Mrs. Soule's black woman had told them; and so it must be true, for Mrs. Soule thought so much of her, she told her everything. First, she told her to pack up-she was going home--and afterward she told her she had concluded to stay; and as she was so lonesome without any kin of her own, she was going to marry Mr. Neville. The girl said, she hadn't seen her look so happy since her child was first born as now; but, for her part, she said, she didn't know whether to be glad or sorry, for things would be mightily changed at home. ,The place would all be rented out, and the slaves set free; her mistress wouldn't sell them, because they mightn't be treated well. But, her mother, who was the housekeeper there, and her children, wouldn't consent to part with her mistress, and was coming here to live--and Mrs. Soule was going to give back the property she got by her first husband to his cousin. So you see matters are all fixed. I wonder when the wedding is going to be?" To this, Miss Prue, a lady who was not quite so young as she once had been, and whose heart had soured, rather than sickened, with i" hope deferred," responded in a most decided tone. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 263 She " didn't believe a word of it-their pastor was a man of too much sense to be taken in by a gay, flaunting widder." Another, somewhat advanced in life, and as she affirmed, "knowed all about human natur," said, "for her part, it was nothing more than she always expected-that preach- ers were the most unfortunate set of men on airth-she had known a hundred of 'em in her time, and never seen one that had a suitable wife ;" and with a profound sigh, whose egress shook her ponderous bosom, "she guessed his hap- piest days was about over now." Another, in a fervor of enthusiastic admiration and love for her pastor, declared, she "s agreed with Miss Prue, that there wasn't a bit of truth in it-for what would he a- lived single for, all this time, if he hadn't a-known he was too good for any born woman." On the other hand, another agreed with Mrs. Burly, that " preachers was very misfortunate in their choice of wives. She had heard that in some countries people were not allowed to make their own matches, and she thought it would be a blessed thing if guardians were app'inted to choose wives for preachers ; for however much they might know about the Bible, it was certain sure they knowed no- thing about woman-kind." She re-echoed Mrs. Burly's sigh, and " was afeard his usefulness was about at an end." A young matron, who possessed the most exquisite ap- preciation of the ridiculous, and who had joined the party for the amusement the discussion would afford, now ven- tured to say, in a serio-comic manner, that she "highly applauded Mrs. Greggs' views on the subject; and that, as the golden era was fast approaching, when the right of suf- page: 264-265[View Page 264-265]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 264-265 264 FLORENCE ; A SEQUEL TO firare would be granted to woman, it was to be hoped the evil might be remedied, by the enactment of a law by our future female legislators, doing away with the right of preachers to select wives for themselves, and appointing guardians for that purpose." Many looked sorely puzzled, as if they did not fairly com- prehend the terms "golden era," and "rights of suffrage," but all were pretty sure it meant something in opposition to their pastor's marriage. And now another, who had remained a listener to the foregoing conversation, unable longer to restrain herself, burst forth in tones rather too much elevated for a female voice: "A pretty wife, indeed, she'll make our pastor-the proud, scornful cre'tur'. I remember her well, when she used to be going to school to Mrs. Ormond. One day she was coming along, and you know she always strutted like a )young pea-fowl, and my John and William, and Susan and Sarah, and Mary and Ann, were playing on the floor here, and she looked in and laughed, and said to the girl that was with her, That she had noticed two things that poor people were always blessed with-white-headed children, and a house-full of them-and now ' they say,' the only child she had, died ; and it was a just judginent on her, for talking about other people's children. And don't you all mind how she used to walk up the aisle of the church as though it wasn't good enough for her to put her feet on- with her head up, too, jest as if she was Queen Victora's daughter. "Victora's daughter, or not," interposed another; "I guess she has as good a right to be proud as her; for once when her black woman was going by with some medicine I EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 265 thought I'd call to her, and ask how her mistress was, just to see what she'd say; and sure enough, she stopped at the gate, and went on to say she was no better, and she didn't think there was much chance of her ever being better; she had never been the same thing since her old master had died-that's Mrs. Soule's father-she took on so then, and said she didn't want to live; and then when her Master Harry died, that was her husband, it was wus still; and then her child died, and now she says she hasn't anything wo'th living for, and don't care how soon she's gone. But dear sakes, if you could a-heard all she told about their house, you'd a-thought she had-enough to make her want to live yet. She said the carpets were as soft, pretty near, as a feather bed, and the green, and yellow, and red of them, jest as much brighter and prettier than that coverlet's there, as my face was whiter than her'n--and such furniture--and looking- glasses too-why they went clear from the floor to the top of the ceiling-but as to that, I don't see any sense in hav- ing such high looking-glasses-nobody wants to see on top of their heads, as I know of; but Eliza Jane says, she'd like the best in the world to see herself in one, of them, when she has on her Jenny Lind lawn, with the green and yellow roses, jest to see how she does look to other folks anyhow- the vain thing." The latter part of the sentence was- uttered in the self-complacent tone of a weak, fond mother. "What an ungrateful creature she must be," said one in a low, complaining tone, and with a countenance clouded with gloom and discontent. "If the Lord had blessed me Os as He has her, I should think I had no cause ever to open my lips. But that's always the way--those that would be thankful, never have anything worth being thankful for." 23 page: 266-267[View Page 266-267]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 266-267 " FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO About the beginning of the conversation (if so it may be called) feiemale entered, whose beneficent, and rather intelligent countenahe, told her to be of a different stamp from the coterie assembled round Mrs. Blakely's tea-table. She stood leaning against a chair, waiting for the troubled waters to be stilled, in order to make known her errand; but seeing no present prospect of such an event, she seized a momentary pause, to pour some oil upon its agitated sur- face, saying : "Yes, Mrs. Green, we all do remember when this lady was a pupil in Mrs. Ormond's seminary; but if she was a little proud then, she has endured many trials and afflic- tions since, and may be very much changed. We have none of us seen her since she came back, and she is, I dye say, very different now, from what she was when a thought- less school-girl; but even then, with all her pride, we re- member many things to her credit. Was she not the most liberal of girls?-spending her money freely for articles for the sick, and assisting the destitute and distressed in all cases?" "Oh! yes, she was free-hearted enough - but who wouldn't be, when they had more money than they knew what to do with. But I know she's just as proud and stuck up as ever; for I wonder if since Mr. Neville took the fool notion of marrying her, the parsonage ain't been torn all upside down to be fixed up like a palace to suit her proud notions. I'm sure I've had no peace of my life ever since the workmen from the city have been over there at work--what with their thumping and pounding, it keeps me with the headache all the time. Oh! it will be a grand place when it' s all done, I'll warrant -with all the new EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 267 rooms they are making, and the glass house behind, which, they say, is to hold flowers that grow where she came from. No one will ever dare to step foot there again- things will be so grand. I really believe the pastor has lost his senses. If it was good enough for Miss Caroline, when she kept house for him, why, he might know it was plenty good enough for Madam, or anybody like her." "t You surely forget," again replied Mrs. Pierce, " what a handsome house Mrs. Clifton lives in now. The parson- age, with all its improvements, will not be near so large, or so stylish-and did she not have it remodeled and repaired when she was married, just as the parsonage is now being done for Mrs. Neville, that is to be?" No one seemed disposed to reply to this; but Miss Prue again condescended to open her thin, prim lips, and observed: "It is quite evident that she is not, in any respect, a suit- able wife for the pastor, or one that he could reasonably be supposed to fancy.' He has proven himself to be just like the rest of his sex in this choice of a wife. She is rich, and that is enough, always, with men. Women of sterling worth, and good sense, stand no chance along-side of rich ones." This was too much for any present to bear; for notwith- standing their present onslaught on the pastor and his future bride, they really, with all who knew him, revered and loved him. The whole tide of their indignation turned, and was poured out on the head of her who dared imply their pastor was marrying from other than the purest motives. page: 268-269[View Page 268-269]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 268-269 268 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO Now voices over voices rise, And each, to be the loudest, vies. They spoke simultaneously of his noble generosity, his disinterested acts of charity, his indifference to wealth, until, from sheer exhaustion of laudatory epijets, they became silent, and gave Mrs. Pierce, his first advocate, an opportunity again to observe : "Mrs. Blakely and I can assure you, beyond a doubt, that he is not marrying for riches; but that he not only loves his bride, that is to be, but has loved her for years, and that it is owing to this that he has never married. You remember, Mrs. Blakely, that when Maria came home after Mrs. Ormond's death, whom, to her credit be it said, she nursed through her-long illness, as well as if she had been as old as you or I, she told us of a conversation she overheard between Mrs. Ormond and Mr. Neville, the day before Mrs. Ormond died, which explained to us the cause of Mr. Neville's melancholy, and. of his remaining un- married." "Oh! sure enough!" said ruddy old Mrs. Blakely, quite delighted at being able to furnish a new topic, since the old one was used up; "yes, Maria did say, that coming into the room quietly, one evening, so as not to worry Mrs. Ormond, she heard her say to Mr. Neville, that she could die satisfied, if he was married; that she was afraid, as Miss Caroline was married and gone, that when she was gone too, he would be lonesome like, and sad, and so she tried her best to persuade him to marry; but he cut her short, and said plump and plain out, that she knowed well enough he had loved one woman, and he EARLY ENGAGIEMwENTS. 269 never could love another, if he lived to be as old as- I forget what v-but maybe Methuselah, as he's so familiar with the Bible; and then Mrs. Ormond said that was wrong, for although Florence De. Lisle had loved him as well as he did her, she soon afterward married another man, and she'd dare say she was as happy as she could be. At this, Maria said, his voice trembled mightily, and he said her mind was surely wandering - he meant by that she was kind of crazy like, for Florence never cared for him more than as a friend; but she stuck to it-it was every word truth-that she knowed it well enough at the time, but wouldn't let on, for'she thought she ought to marry the man she was promised to, and she knowed, too, very well, that her father was so rich that he wouldn't let her marry a poor man. Maria said she felt sheepish, for it seemed like eaves-dropping, and so she went away and didn't hear any more." "Now!" said Mrs. Pierce, triumphantly; " our pastor, it seems, has loved this lady for years; and he's so affec- tionate and kindly in his nature, how happy he will be with a wife and children of his own. I am sure we all ought to rejoice that he is going to marry. We all know, too, he has far more sense than we, and surely ought to be able to tell who will suit hiim best." "Poor fellow!" said old Mrs. Grant; "who'd a thought it?-yes he'll be mighty proud of a wife of his own, and happy, too, I do expect. He's always mightily pleased when he hears of young folks getting married, and seems to enjoy himself at weddings more than anybody else. I mind when David Hilton was married, he seemed so pleased he was almost beside himself, and shook David's hand so page: 270-271[View Page 270-271]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 270-271 270 FLORENCE; A' SEQUEL TO heartily when he congratulated him and Mary; but when Davy said he hoped soon to be able to return the compli- ment, you ought just to have seen how he changed counte- nance, and he said, in sich a serious voice, ' he was obleeged to him, but he'd never have the chance,' and walked off, and didn't seem to gethis speerits up any more that evening. I dare say, he was thinking of the widder then. And -so he's loved her all this time, you say! Who'd a thought? Who'd a thouglht it?" All the dissenting voices were now unanimous in favor of the pastor's marriage - even Miss Prue, fearful of ex- citing another ebullition of their wrath, quietly acquiesced in the general opinion. Mrs. Burly proved the only excep- tion-she was heard to mutter, somewhat indistinctly, "It might be so, and she hoped it would ; but if it was a good match, it would be the first one, certain and sure -but it was nothing, to her, as she knowced of, one way or other- ' as they made their bed, so they must lie ;' " quite de- lighted at being able to close her remarks with an axiom containing such an amount of the sagest wisdom, she hob- bled off with considerable self-complacencyto her cottage in the glen. EARLY EiNAGEMENTS. 271 CHAPTER XXI. Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of paradise, that has survived the fax.. COWPER. But happy they I the happiest of their kind! WA hom gentle stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. TIOMSON. And if a painter's eye had sought a scene Of love in its most perfect loveliness- Of childhood, and of wedded happiness, Ife would have painted thine. LANPON. MEANWHLE the pastor, all unconscious of the excitement his anticipated nuptials had created throughout the valley, was enjoying the most exquisite happiness in the loved society of his betrothed bride. They were sitting together, the morning after their be- trothment, by the open window of the parlor, inhaling the fragrance of the early year. Florence had nerved herself for a most painful task--that of unfolding her sad past to him. Though it was like tearing open afresh the fast-heal- ing wounds, she felt it to be an imperative duty-that without -confidence, the fullest and freest, between the parties whose faith had been mutually plighted, there could be but an imperfect happiness. This was the teaching of the bitterest experience. Her concealments from Harry, though prompted by the kindest motives, had resulted so disas- trously, as to enforce with a thousand-fold power upon her mind and heart the precept, "ye must not do evil that good may come of it." page: 272-273[View Page 272-273]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 272-273 272 FLOBRNCE; A SEQUEL TO Withheld confidence is the canker-spot of the heart, which eventually corrodes every part of it, and proves the destruc- tion of all its best and brightest hopes. The pastor was deeply affected. Very much of the bit- terness of his own grief had been stayed by the supposition that she was supremely blest and happy in her conjugal relations-therefore it was that her revelations so painfully affected him; yet he rejoiced at his former ignorance of this sad truth. Gently he soothed her lacerated heart, and sought to win her from the gloomy retrospect of the past. He gave her a letter to read. It was a respectfully urgent call to the pastorship of a large, wealthy, and intel- ligent church in Boston-that nucleus of American talent and learning. Florence's countenance was all a glow when she glanced up from its perusal. Her heart throbbed with pleasure that his brilliant talents were not lost in obscurity, but had become known and appreciated by the most intelli- gent and highly discriminative congregations in the country. Surely the light of those old fires blazed anew in her dark and glorious eyes. Ambition-pride, which had once held unbounded sway in her bosom, were aroused from their trance-like existence by the gratification of this once fondly cherished wish-that he should become known to fame. "How wide and fair a field," she exultingly thought, "is now open before him! .w luxuriously rich the laurel wreath suspended above his brow!" In a whirl of grati- fied pride she yielded for the moment to the voice of the tempter, but soon her better nature triumphed and the evil spirits were exorcisedk It was but natural that the recog- nition of his talents abroad should give her pleasure, but she sighed not for future triumphs, or more extended fame; EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 273 but felt humbly grateful that it was given to him to lead the soul, dwarfed and deformed by sin, into the path whence it might attain the fullness of beauty and perfection in which it was originally created-that it was given to him to inspire the heart of fallen man with ilonn gs for, and efforts to obtain, a final resting-place in the blest abodes of peace. My acceptance depends entirely on your wishes," said the pastor, breaking the silence. "Then," replied Florence, with a most eloquent smile; "we will remain in this beautiful valley, where, as I told you upon a former occasion, the happiest hours of my life have been spent." The pastor was much gratified to find that her feelings were in unison with his own upon this, as upon other points. He informed her that he had frequently received similar invitations, and had the year before declined one to the same church from which the present call came. He had refused all former calls because he thought it scarcely just, after having established a reputation through their means, to desert those who had received him in his untried youth, and who had borne with all his shortcomings in the early days of his clerical service; and beside on account of his aversion to city life; and furthermore, because of the pain a separation from his sister's family must occasion both him and them-but now the case was widely different, since having found one who would go with him whithersoever he went, and whose sweet society would far more than compensate him for the loss of that of others. Beside her happiness and wishes demanded consideration as well as his own, and he feared much that she, who had been page: 274-275[View Page 274-275]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 274-275 274 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO accustomed to a diffelrent society, would scarcely find that of his present parishioners agreeable. But Florence protested against a removal, and with the pure, earnest, devoted love of woman, declared her wish for no society but his. Why is it that husbands, who so freely bestow the paltry adornments for the body, should be so parsimonious of the gift, the inestimable gift of their society--squandering that, VIwhich the wife pines for in secret, upon those who, so far from appreciating or even feeling in the least degree, grateful for, would esteem it a falvor to be relieved of? Too fiequently is the hlappiness of families thus marred- th}e husband se ekling Cabroald his society, indifferent whether it be the-wise or the foolish so that it be found beyond the walls of his own hlome, and the wife, thrown back on her- self, is left to nurture gloomy thhougllts-to cast the "longS, lingering look" back to the time when to be with her was esteemed the sweetest of priv ileges. 1But not thus did it ever prove with our hero and heroine. As-shie was "( the bright particular star" of his life previous to their marriage, so did she ever remain. or did lie care that there were myriads of lets of greater and less degrees of brilliancy-that there were other forms of greater beauty-other lips more skilled in li-ely repartlee, or fireighlted with greater wisdom. ; Thiro, waz fir hr'r one only dreamn on earill! Th'er' e was l:.)r hi,dt one onlly star Lbolvc'. ) A handsome suite of rooms was added to the parsonage, which the pastor fitted up with careful regard to the refined and elegant tastes of hs bride elect. Attached to it, there was a conservatory filled with the plants and shrubs of her native clime; and for none, of all the numerous efforts to EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 275 conduce to her happiness and comfort, which his affection prompted, did she feel more grateful than for this. It was so sweet a pleasure, though far removed from her native land, to have, blooming around her, the flowers she had loved in her childhood. There was one individual who was not entirely satisfied with the new arrangement of things-the old servant who had so long presided over Mr. De Lisle's establishment, and who had proven to Florence a mother, tender and true, despite her Ethiopian skin and the cold heart which is generally supposed to beat beneath it. Having been a confidential servant of the white members of the family, she had imbibed many of their aristocratic ideas. The importance of wealth especially was magnified in her imagination. It was with a heavy heart' she pre- pared to leave the splendid abode in Louisiana, to take charge of one of far humbler pretensions. She did not know why, if Miss Florence wanted to marry again, she should take up with a preacher. He might be good enough--she knew pretty well he was, or Miss Flo- rence wouldn't think of such a thing as marrying him; but preachers were so poor always; and then, in their own country, she might have married a rich gentleman, and lived like a princess all her days, as she ought. Thoughts such as these ran through her mind, on receiving the intel- ligence of Florence's intended martriage. She reached hermistress on the day preceding the wedding, and after listening to her encomiums on her future husband--when she told how kind, and good, and gentle he was to all, and how happy he would strive to make them at the Parsonage, her scruples began to give page: 276-277[View Page 276-277]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 276-277 276 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO way-yet as she gazed with the admiration of a fond heart on her young mistress, whose eyes were sparkling with joy, she thought half regretfully again of the marriage. "She 's so beautiful, she might have done better than to hlave got a preacher." The morning of the bridal was one of pleasant anticipa- tions to Fanny. Her mistress was going to lay aside the sable clothes she blad so long worn, and Fanny's innate love of finery would be gratified by the privilege of again enrobing her in rich and tasteful clothes. True, there had been no splendid preparations for this second bridal, like those of the former; but when the hour drew near, Fanny brought forth the magnificent vail and wreath worn previously. Florence shuddered and desired her to lay them away agrain, and to dress her without ornaments. "You forget," said she, " that I am not to be the bride of a millionaire, but simply a pastor's bride." It was in vain Fanny sought to overcome her objections. One only ornament sloe consented to wear. It was the last gift of her father--a bracelet containing a small likeness of him surrounded by diamonds. She looked exceedingly lovely, perhaps far more so than when arrayed in "the purple and fine linen" of wealthy attire, in her simple muslin dress, with a cluster of snowy moss rosebuds fastened on her bosom. Fanny ventured to transcend orders slightly on this occasion, and placed on either side of her head an exquisite cluster of the same beautiful flowers. Lost in deep abstraction, Florence was gazing on the miniature which rested on her beautifully rounded arm. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 2" The sun, which stole through the half-parted shutter, fell in rich masses of light on it, and the gems which encircled it blazed and flickered like so many miniature suns. To Florence's imagination they seemed a fitting emblem of the "crown of glory" which his freed spirit then wore. Tears started to her eyes. "My father!" thought she, " how would you rejoice, did you know of all my sorrows, that your dove, after a weary flight over a -stormy waste, had found so sweet a resting- place." Fanny had just arranged the flowers to her taste, and was gazing in silent admiration at their beautiful contrast with her mistress' raven tresses when she perceived her to tremble violently, for a footstep was then heard without. A low knock at the door succeeded it, and ere Fanny, or her mother, had time to move, Florence, with her old impulsiveness, had flown to open it, and was folded to Mr. Neville's bosom. Even i" old Mammy's" heart warmed at witnessing their happiness, and she said: "It appeared like her Miss Florence was happier than when she was married before to Master Harry-Z-but that was nat'ral enough, for the want of anything always proved the wo'th of it, and she never know'd how to 'preciate her husband till she had none. She be bound, now she wouldn't seem to care as little for her new husband's atten- tions as she used to poor Master Harry's that's dead and gone." They were married in the church, that all-who desired might be present; and we, need scarce say the attendance was not small; for many sincerely participated in their page: 278-279[View Page 278-279]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 278-279 278 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO pastor's happiness, and all were quite curious to see his bride. Eliza Jane, arrayed in the veritable Jenny Lind lawn of the green and yellow roses, was there in all her glory, a very curious spectator of that deeply interesting scene ; and her mother, standing by her side, whispered to Mrs. Grant, "if the bride did walk a little proud, it seemed nat'ral like; she was certain sure she didn't act so." And old Mrs. Burly was heard to declare, when she saw how handsome and happy her pastor looked, "that if there ever was, or could be, such a thing as a good match, this was one," All hearts warmed toward the bride, as leaning upon her husband's arm, she received with a smile, half of sunshine, half of sadness, the congratulations of his friends. Hers, as her face indicated, was not that outgushing happiness, such as Mr. Neville's, but was a joy of the soul, chas- tened by the remembrance of a former bridal. "Poor young thing," many were heard to say, " why she's only old enough now to marry, and just tlink of the sights of trouble she's seen; but I warrant she'll be happy enough now to pay up for it; for I never did see any one that seemed as proud and happy as Mr. Neville. It's the handsomest couple I've seen in many a day, and it's clear sure they were just made for each other." Many months had passed since the parsonage received a new mistress, and its hospitalities were dispensed in as kind and affable a manner, notwithstanding the forebodings indulged in to the contrary by some of the parishioners, as when Carrie Neville presided there. Months, they were, of unbroken happiness to every member of the household. EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 279 They frequently joined Mr. and Mrs. Clifton in their tours ; and the respect and attention with which her hus- band was everywhere received, and the repeated efforts made to entice him from his humble obscurity to a position of greater eminence was to Florence a proud gratification. Florence Neville sat alone in her private apartment-- roses of the richest hue were again blooming on her cheek. It was a room, evident even to a stranger's hasty glance, of a person of elevated, refined, and highly-cultivated taste. Beautiful pictures, exquisite busts and stals filled the room; and a handsomely carved book-case, laden with the choicest productions of the most gifted minds, occupied a conspicuous place; ottomans, divans, and seVe- ral musical instruments were arrange mund the room w/h admirable taste, and the back windows opeie on- servatory. A guitar was lying near her, as though just thrown aside; and truly it had been hastily laid down, for an object which afforded a far more intense pleasure. An infant was reclining in her arms, and it needed not to have been thus situated to have told its maternal origin. There were the same dark eyes, the finely-developed forehead, the glossy tresses, the clear, rich complexion, and exquisitely formed nose and mouth of her who gazed with such tenderness upon it. But though inheriting every feature of the mother, the expression was strangely unlike hers--the soft, gentle, benign smile of the father lit up those infant features, irra- ' diating it as with a sunbeam from Heaven. Fondly bent the young mother over her darling, whose elaborately wrought clothes were the production- of her own loving fin- gers. It was a beautiful picture of domestic happiness, and page: 280-281[View Page 280-281]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 280-281 280 FLORENCE; A SEQUEL TO so thought the pastor, who entered noiselessly-the soft carpet giving back no sound to the pressure of his step. He paused a moment by the table, on which papers were strewn carelessly, to read some fragments of verse dedicated to her child, and dictated by the overflowing heart of the young mother. As he stood thus gazing on them, smiling his own pecu- liarly sweet smile, the thoughts of his wife were made I known to him, for she murmured half unconsciously: "Thou art very like thy mother, my daughter; and even as I do now fondly and proudly bend over thee, so once did my father exultingly and tenderly over me." The strange, eventful history of her life rose up before her, and she shuddered at the thought of a similar fate for her child! "But those afflictions," thought she, "were in mercy sent to crush my proud and haughty spirit. But thou, my darling," she added, aloud, in cheering, hopeful tones, "thou, thank God, hast inherited thy father's gentle spirit." The pastor was by her side in a moment, and as he folded his arms about them, he glanced upward, murmur- ing in grateful tones, "And oh! I thank thee, Father, for the treasures thou hast given me." We have done. Calmly, placidly, and beautifully as thine own sweet self, Ohio! did their lives glide on to the great ocean of eternity. As "With thy name this song began," "With thy name thus much shall end." On thy shrine of beauty I would lay the heart's pure offer- ing-Love and Gratitude I How have I loved to gaze on EARLY ENGAGEMENTS. 281 thee!"friend of my better days"-for thou hast given to me "beauty for ashes; the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." Ever have thy bright and joyous smiles dispelled the mists that hung round my heart-thy calmness hath given tranquillity to my roused feelings, and thy low murmuring music-tones have been sweet as the gentle love songs, hummed over me by the guardian angel of my childhood-my gentle, loving mother! Blessings-a thousand blessings rest and abide on thee forever, Ohio! Beautiful-thrice beautiful art thou! and upon thy banks, doth the proud young Queen of the West, sit enthroned, and thou also sweepest by the grave of a hero! Farewell, sweet river! ever Wilt thou be dear to me; I can repay thee, never, One-half I owe to thee, Around thy banks are lying Nature's diviner part, And thou dost keep, undying, MJy childhood at my heart. T HE EN D. page: 282-283 (Advertisement) [View Page 282-283 (Advertisement) ]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 282-283 (Advertisement) I JUST PUBLISHED! MRS, BEN DARBY; OR THE WEAL AND WOE OF SOCIAL LIFE. One Volume, 12mo. Cincinnati Enquirer. "MRS. BEN DARBY, OR THE WEAL AND WOE OF SOCIAL LITE. By A. MARIA COLLINS. Cincinnati, MOORE, ANDERSON & CO. This is one of the best novels we have perused in a long time. The object of the writer--the great moral of the sketches of Social Life which are contained in it--is to present in a strong and vivid light the blighting influences of intemperance upon the hap- piness of society; and although the subject is apparently a hackneyed one, yet the authoress has been able in this volume to give it great interest, by blend- ing with it a very excellent story. "The style in which it is written is attractive and fascinating-there is a freshness and originality about it that is very pleasing. The authoress, like most female writers, excels in her descriptions of conversations, which are easy and natural, and that, in our opinion, is a most important feature in all works of fiction. In many novels the characters are made to speak in an un- natural manner, not at all in harmony with the parts assigned them-but in- this work one of its chief merits is the excellence of its conversations. "The moral reflections necessarily connected with the theme which is the basis of the story, are characterized by good sense, and some of them are truly eloquent, suggestive of thought to the reader, and they indicate that the authoress possesses literary abilities of no ordinary kind . . . . "It is through moral and persuasive means, after all, that the opponents of intemperance must rely on to accomplish their ends. Its blighting and injurious results upon the happiness of the race should be pressed home upon the convictions of every one, and as a means of so doing, this WEAL AND WOE OF SOCIAL LIFE cannot but prove a powerful auxiliary. It is destined, undoubt- edly, to have a run." Christian Herald. ,c Its scenes are laid inVirginia, in New York city, and in the Hoosier State. In all these various localities, the authoress seems equally at home, and por- trays life and character with accuracy and with power. She has talents for this kind of writing of high promise. .... Has so many thrilling pas- sages and well-drawn characters, that you read it with absorbed attention. It cannot fail to achieve for Mrs. Collins an enviable popularity, and to do much good. We need just such books-books that portray the vices of fashionable life-that show how the first step is taken toward ruin. . "Our authoress follows her characters through all the stages of their degra- dation and guilt. She goes with them to the Five Points, to the Tombs, and to the Hospital. .... She takes us with her to the drunkard's home. She tells of the hunger and the fear, the toil and the suffering that are there. She paints, with a woman's delicate skill, the meek patience, the long-abused, but unchanging love of the drunkard's wife. In such delineations, she seems peculiarly at home. She touches the deepest chords of the heart, and makes them vibrate with pity and with indignation." Gazette. "Presented with a power and vividness which, we hope, will be sufficient to cause many a reader already treading in this fatal path, to tprn back ere it becomes impossible to avoid the destruction to-which it leads." page: 284 (Advertisement) -285 (Advertisement) [View Page 284 (Advertisement) -285 (Advertisement) ]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 284 (Advertisement) -285 (Advertisement) MOORE, ANDERSON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS New Albany Tribune. "M:s. 'I:.: D.]:,Y, OR TIlE VEAL AND WOE 01O SOCIAL LIFE. By A. MABIA CuLLINS. C(n1cinnati, 5Moolt:, CANDE.:SON & Co. Thoulgh M1r. COLLINS has alIeadey hosts of (admlirers of her literary productions, this work, we predict, will increase that nuInber ten-fold, and give her a reputation worthy of her hiygh talents. Ms. E1 DINARBY is a moral and temperance story, and presents in vivid and life-like pictures, the foibles of'social life, and the evils which follow the footsteps of those whlo ' tarry long at the wine.' The OBJECTS of the work deserve the highest praise. While it is highly instructive from its moral teachings, it contains all the interest that is usually thrown around works of fiction by our best -writers." P'resbytcriail of the Wcst. 'A deeply ilnteresting, and in passages of it, a powerful work. It vividly portrays some of the terrilic exploits of strong drink in both high and low life. Nor are such scenes, as it depicts, either imaginary or few. God's bright sun and beautifuil stars look down perpetually on many such, all over our coun- try. Slavery, hateful as it is, is less a curse to body and soul than Intempe- rance. Nothing defgradles the whole man so low beneath the very brutes, as rum. ' Let this book circulate. It has a beneficent aim, and is the vehicle of ad- mirably told, and most salutary lessons." Timies. ; n111 cm "The volume b)efore us is as unquestionable an outgrowth of the Maine Law excitementt, as ' Uncle Tom's Cabin' was of that against the Fugitive Slave B:ill. Eacli is less a creature of the author's indivicdual mind, than of the pres- sure of popular opinion. Each are equally hearty protests against wrong and injustice. There is in both the same unflinching grappling with the terrible hfcts; evincing remarkable courage in a woman. Shunning nothing that can add a new terror to the tale of misery, the authoress of Mrs. Ben Darby has followed the vice of drunkenness to all its haunts, and has sketched it in its daintiest form of fascination, as well as in its grim and dismal aspect of open ldegradation. Iarely lhas :a woman ventured to hold the torch to such a dark recess of hu11mllan wove." D aiytoll E1mpire. ' It contains life-like sketches of American Society written in a style which cannot fail to interest tihe reader. We took it up, designing to give it a hasty glance-to note the style and drift of the author--but found it so captivating that we read the whole before quitting it." Daily Ancient Metropolis. ': Her thrilling sketches of the results of intemperance harrow up the very soul. To those who hope to see their country imitating that proud contempt for lust and wine so remarkable in tlih early days of our great prototype, the Roman Republic, rather thln that disgraceful surrender to them which hast- ened her delcadence, we would commII cend this interesting work, as presenting fresh incentives for exertion toward so glorious a result." Journal and Hessensger. "We commence I ^lancin? throurhl this Loot k p)rofessionally, nnc with reluctance. As we procceded, we were fa-cinatted with its witching descriptions of nature, its vivid concep- tions, its startling seenes, its viastcr-skill in the delineation of character. The author un- loubtedly posseses great genius in these departments of writing-in dramatic construction. We know of no passage, anywhere, more uniquely beautiful-more intensely absorbing- more masterly in delineation-more terrific-more overpowering in the pathetic, than the thirty-fourth chapter. It is indeed a Gem. We doubt whether the celebrated chapter de- voted to the death of Eva, in Uncle Tom's Cabin, is superior. * * : * It is certainly the nlm;t powerful tmlperance tale that we ever perused." MOORE & ANDERSON'S PUBLICATIONS. SERVICE AFLOAT AND ASHORE during the Mexican War: By LIEUT. RAPHAEL SEMMES, U. S. N., late Flag- Lieutenant of the Home Squadron, and Aid-de-camp of Major-General Worth, in the battles of the Valley of Mexico. 1 vol. 8vo, $1.75. Illustrated with numerous lithographs, in beautiful style, by Onken, and an official map. "{ H has given to the public a very attractive work upon Mexico tself, as well as upon the Mexican war."--Charleston (S. C.) Standard. "His original descriptions are drawn with great felicity: He is a lively and spirited narrator. His battle sketches are extremely vivid, and produce a deep impression on the imagination. His pictures of social and domestic life in Mexico are apparently true to nature, and present the attractions of a romance-criticises the military operations n a decided partisan spirit, but with evident ability."-N. Y. Tribune. "{ HE is bold, capable, and courageous. He can wield a pen or a sword with admirable force and dexterity. * * * As a writer, Lieut Scmmes is clear and cogent. The first forty pages of the volume aro occupied with a description of Mexico, its government and people; and we know of no description of the kind, which brings the condition of things in that unhappy country so distinctly before the mind of the reader. The whole volume, as a work of intellect, is worthy of a high place in the department to which it belongs."-Louisville Journal. "N remarking upon the various baittles and military movements, it indulges neither in indiscriminate praise nor indiscriminate censure.- It laumds everybody for something, but none for everything. * * * General Scott is often and highly praised for his surpassing abilities- for what he did do in the cause of his country; yet, Lieut. Semmes asserts that the battle of Churubusco, and its consequent slaughter, was entirely unnecessary, and brings forward arguments to sustain his assertion.- He also declares, and brings evidence to the truth of the declaration, that General Scott understood nothing of the real use or strength of the Molinos del Rey, which were so bloodily defended by the Mexicans, and that time and again our successes were owing to the personal ability and valor of subordinates, and not to the much-vaunted foresight and science of the commander-in-chief. With all this, there is no virulence or indiscriminate fault-finding. Lieut. Semmes' book differs from' all that have preceded it, and must attract attention. We say, "Gud defend the right," but let us know what right is, and give honor to whom honor is due."-Boston Post. "SAILons are said to be persons of strong prejudices. And it is no small praise to the author, to say that we have never read a history evi- dently so fairly -written, with regard to the merits of the numerous claimiants of military glory. ' * * We shall take our sailor and soldier out of the ranks, and see what he has to tell of a nmore amusing nature than battle fields. * * X After sailing about the Gulf, and cruising from Vera Cruz to Mexico and back again with our author, we have arrived at the conclusion that he is as pleasant a companion as one mig'1ht desire upon a similar journey, and so commend him to the favor of the reading public."-Literary World. page: 286 (Advertisement) -287 (Advertisement) [View Page 286 (Advertisement) -287 (Advertisement) ]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 286 (Advertisement) -287 (Advertisement) ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE, by FRANCIS WAYAND, D. D., President of Brown University, and Professor of Moral Philosophy. Forty-seventh thousand.- 12mo, ................................... ...... cloth,....1,25 M OR A L SC I E N C E A B R I DGE D, and adapted to the use of Schools and Academies, by the Author. Thirtieth thousand, ...................half mor.... ,50 The same, CHEAP SCHOOL EDITION, ....... . ...... ..........boards.,.. ,25 This work is used in the Boston Schools, and is exceedingly popular as a text book wherever it ha been adopted. ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL EC NOMY, by FRANCIS WAYAND, D D. Twenty- first thousand. 12mo, ... .................c..........loth, ....1,25 POLITICAL ECONOMY ABRIDGED, and adapted to the use of Schools and Acaderies, by the Author. Seventh thousand,....................half mor..... )50 The above works by Dr. Wayland, are used as Text Books in most of the Colleges and higher Schools throughout the Union, and are highly approved. PALEY'S NATURAL THEOLOGY. llustrated by forty Plates, with selections from the Notes of Dr. Paxton, and additional Notes, original and selected, with a Vocab- ulary of Scientific Terms. Edited by JOHN WARE, M. D. 12mo..... half mor.....1,25 ROMAN ANTIQUITIES AND ANCIENT MYTHOLOGY; byC K.DILLAWAY. Illustrated by elegant Engravings. Eighth edition, improved. 12mo..half mor. .. ,67 THE YOUNG LADIES' CLASS BOOK; a Selection of Lessons for Reading, in Prose and Verse. By EBRNEZEr BAILEY, A. M. Fifty-second edition,..half mor.... ,84 BLAKE'S NATURAL PHLOSOPHY being Conversations on Philosophy, with Explanatory Notes, Questions for Examination, and a Dictionary of Philosophical Terms, with twenty-eight steel Engravings. By J. L. BLAKE, D. D.,..s...... sheep.... ,67 BLAKE'S FIRST BOOK IN ASTRONOMY; designed for the use of Common Schools. Illustrated with steel-plate Engravings. By JOHN L. BLARE, D. D,.......... half bound..... ,50 FIRST LESSONS IN INTELLECTUAL PHLOSOPHY; oraFamiliar Explan- ation of the Nature and Operations of the Human Mind. By SILAS BLAISDALE........ sheep,.... ,84 THE CICERONIAN; or, the Prussian Method of Teaching the Elements of the Latin Language. Adapted to the use of American Schools. By Professor B. SEARS, Secretary of Massachusetts Board of Education. 18mo...........half mor.... ,60 M EMOR IA TECH NICA ; or, the Art of Abbreviating those Studies which give the greatest labor to the Memory; including Numbers, Historical Dates, Geography, Astron- omy, Gravities, &c. By L. D. JosmsoN. Second edition, revised and improved,....... half bound,.... ,50 PROGRESSIVE PENMANSHP, Plain and Ornamental, for the use of Schools. By N. D. GOULD, author of "' Beauties of Writing," Writing Master's Assistant," etc..... in five parts, each.... ,12. LrTTXB SHTzr SIZE of the above in four books,...............astiff covers, each.... ,20 The copies are arranged in progressive series, and are likewise so diversified by the introduction of variations in style, O as to command the constant attention and exercise the ingenuit5 sf the learner, thus removin some of the most serious obstacles to the success of the teacher. Aey are divided into FrIV s sRIB, intended for the like number of books, and are so arranged and folded that a copy always comes over the top of the page on which it is to be written. There are ninety-six coples presenting a regular inductive system of Penmanship for ordinary business purposes, followed by examples of every variety of Ornamental Writing. w- This work is introduced into many of the Boston Public and Private Schools, and gives universal satisfaction. WRITING COPIES, Plain and Ornamental, from the "Progressive Penmanship," bound in one book,........ ...................................................... THE EARTH AND MAN: Lectures on COMPARATIVE PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY, in its relation to the History of Mankind. By ARNOLD GUYOT, Professor of Physical Geography and History, Neuchatel. Translated from the French, by Prof. C. C. FELTON, with illus- trations. Second thousand. 12mo, e ..... ............... cloth .. ..1,.25 "Those who have been accustomed to regard Geography as a merely descriptive branch oflearn- tng, drier than the remainder biscuit after a voyage, will be delighted to find this hitherto un- attractive pursuit converted into a science, the principles of which are definite and the results conclusive."-North Anerican Review. "The grand idea of the work is happily expressed by the author, where he calls it the geograph- tcal march of history. Faith, science, learning, poetry, taste, in a word, genius, have liberally contributed to the production of the work under review. Sometimes we feel as if we were studying a treatise on the exact sciences; at others, it strikes the ear like an epic poem. Now it reads like history, and now it sounds like prophecy. It will find readers in whatever language it may be published."-Christial Examiner. "The work is one of high merit, exhibiting a wide range of knowledge, great research, and a philosophical spirit of investigation. Its perusal will well repay the most learned in such subjects, and give new views to all, of man's relation to the globe he inhabits."-Silliman's Journal. COMPARATIVE PHYSICAL AND HSTORICAL GEOGRAPHY; or, the Study of the Earth and its Inhabitants. A series of graduated courses for the use-of Schools. By ARNOLD GUYOT, author of "Earth and Man," etc. The series hereby announced will consist of three courses, adapted to the capacity of three dif- ferent ages and periods of study. The first is intended for primary schools, and for children of from seven to ten years. The second is adapted for higher schools, and for young persons of from ten to fifteen years. The third is to be used as a scientific manual in Academies and Colleges. Each course will be divided into two parts, one of purely Physical Geography, the other for Eth- nography, Statistics, Political and Historical Geography. Each part will be illustrated by a colored Physical and Political Atlas, prepared expressly for this purpose, delineating, with the greates. care, the configuration of the surface, and the otherphysical phenomena alluded to in the corres ponding work, the distribution of the races of men, and the political divisions into States, 8tc., fc The two parts of the first or preparatory course are now in a forward state of preparation, anG will be issued at an early day. MURAL MAPS: a series of elegant colored Maps, exhibiting the Physical Phenomena of the Globe. Projected on a large scale, and intended to be suspended in the Recitatio Room. By ARNOLD GUYOT ......n......pp.. .... .. ***.inpreparation] KITTO'S POPULAR CYCLOP/EDIA OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE.' Con- densed from the larger work. By JOHN KITTO, D. D., F. S. A., author of "The Pictoral Bible," "History and Physical Geography of Palestine," Editor of "The Journal of Sacred Literature," etc. Assisted by numerous distinguished Scholars and Divines, British, Continental and American. With numerous illustrations. One volume, octavo, 812pp . of . ....... ...... ............ I..cloth. . 3,00 THE POPULAR BIBLICAL CYCLOPAEDIA OF LITERATURE is designed to furnish a DICTIONARY OF THE BIBLE, embodying the products of the best and most recent researches in Biblical Liter- ature, in which the Scholars of Europe and America have been engaged. The work, the result of immense labor and research, and enriched by the contributions of writers of distinguished eminence in the various departments of Sacred Literature,-has been, by universal consent, pronounced the best work of its class extant; and the one best suited to the advanced knowledge of the present day in all the studies connected with Theological Science. The Cyclopedia of Biblical Literature from which this work is condensed by the author, is published in two volumes, rendering it about twice the size of the present work, and is intended, says the author, more particularly for Ministers and Theological Students; while the Popular Cyclopcedia is intended for Parents, Sabbath School Teachers, and the great body of the religious public. It has been the author's aim to avoid imparting to the work any color of sectarian ox denominational bias. On such points of difference among Christians, the Iiistorical mode ot treatment has been adopted, and care has been taken to provide a fair account of the arguments which have seemed most conclusive to the ablest advocates-of the various opinions. The Pictora Illustrations -amounting to more than three hundred-are of the very highest order of the art. page: 288 (Advertisement) -289[View Page 288 (Advertisement) -289]Switch to Image ModeCLOSE Page 288 (Advertisement) -289 MOORE & ANDERSON'S PUBLICATIONS, " ill prove more yenerally useful, than any other work yet publishcd on Geoloqy." THE COURSE OF CREATION: By JOHN ANDERSON, D. D., of New- burgh, Scotland. With a Glossary of Scientific Terms. I vol. 12mo. Illustrated, $1.25. "IT treats chiefly of the series of rocks between the Alps and the Grampians. It is tilronurhll scientific, but jiplular in its style and exceedingly entertaining."'-Zion's IL rall. "THs: ai;-r r', style is cle:r and engaging, and nis graphic descriptions seem to con. vev tie re :.er at once into tli' fields of geological iesearchi to observe for himself.'"- Ohio 0t .- -rcr. "-.'ANo i iK v*aluable contr'i;;:hio to the cause of truth land sound science. Its valne is tery i;n;cl enhanced by the (;lossary of Scientific Terms; appended to it by the pub- lishers: ior sr- rcelv anyn orio o the sciences has a la:trer nulmber of terms with which ordInarv re:lder-, are uncil icainted tlhan Geolo,. -lPresbytrian of the IWest. ', \\v.: c(mrmend the volume to all who would be instructed in the wonderful works of God. Cliapters such as that oil the "Econonic History of Coal," and those on "Or. ganic Life" and "Physical and MAoral Progression," have a special value for the stu. Jent of livine Prouvilence."-.-. Y Iadclpet'ldct. "I)R. AsD:RsoN is evildently well skilied in geology, and writes with a freedom and vivacity rivaled by Iio wrriter on tihe subject-except Ilugh Miller.'"--Jlletlhodist Quarterl/y Re tcir. 'l TIls book is intenlled for general readers,-and such readters will be entertained by it,-hlut it is none the Itcs thorotugh, and enters boldly into geological inquiry."- Boston 'ILdertiscr. "O.: oftlhe ino't interestitrg and valiialle worlks on Geology that we lhave ever met s ith. The autlhor is; ; tihorounh1ly scientific man;-but his scientific accuracy does not pres ent the v\ ork fioui hbeiini- ulndertood bly unscientific readers, it is a very readable book."-o Its r i lc .loh ra In. "' I}Y re:t lln t}lh, book a per-on can obtain a general knowledge ofthe wlhole subject." --rc. tern $','.'r. ' ' " liD:liy I ihonor,lbl, to th}e writer and honorable to the publishers."-Boston o )r5't a ,nt f [ lr . ' I'f is v-"Ti:lle uol'ltle \was printed, .s welll ts publis hed, in Cincinnati; and it )he;aiks ;i. \ t-' l;r tie literarv society of t'itt city, as for the enterprise of the publish- ers, and t). e t: e alnd skill of the typographer."'-Boston Post. "IT io o1n'1 f tfe sinllificantt signs of the times that we sltoutld be receiving a work like tii, frmii a citl tha;lt hlsa scarcely an existence fifty years ago, got up in a style of el:ane, tli:tt rankls it beside the finiet isines of the publislhing houses of Boston anl New York. Tl'ii'. fttt, ]howover, is but tlei slmallest element of interest that attaches to the \ollnrc w It is one of tlhose oblhe contributions to natural science, in its relation to rcvealeli rh!-ion, w:hich in tin writitngs of Ilig li Miller, Kinig, Ilrewster, and others h ave conrferrrdl nw lu tcr on the eo11tored nanme of t 'cotlandt. * " * The concluding cliapter is it sublimte qutertioning of Geology, as to the testimaonv she gives to a Creator, somewhvat after the manner of' the Scholia, to Newton's Principia, and is one of the noblest portions of the work."-Richmond, Vt., lfatchman and Observer. "'TmIw science of Geo!ogy is attracting more and more attention. * * * That whicn s\as once a gigantic chaos, has become developed into a system beautifully sym. mstrical, and infinitely grand."-lcrcantile Courier. i" 2 ';: r -" r ,I I -r-