A beautiful fiend, or, Through the fire
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] A BEAUTIFUL FIEND OR, THROTUGH THE FIRE. BY MRS. E. D. E. N. SoUTHWORTH. AUTHOR OF "FAIR PLAY, "HOW HE WON HER," "OH&ANGEDJRIDES," "BIDBS FATE," iFUEL AS THE GRAVE,' THE ARTIST'S LOVE," "A NOBLm LORD," EBBTRIBUTIONs, "OST HEIR OF LINITH GOW," "TRIED FORB HFER LIFE," "WIDOW'S SON,$" "ALLWORTH ABB "'S LO")ST HEIRESS, "FORTUNB 'SEEKER," "VI]IA, " L, 'ADY OF TBEBI ,*' "FAMLY DOOMS," "HAXNTED HOM1STRAP," CURBSE OF CLIFTON," "MSSING 'BRIDE," "GIPSYrB PROPEECY," (FALLEN PRIDE," "TWO SISTERS," "THREE BEAUTIES, / "BRIDAL EVE, "WIFE'S VICTORY," "MAIDEN WIDOW," "FATAL MARRIAGE," ' JPRINCB OF DARKNESS,' "MOTHER-IN-LAW', "BRIDE IOF LLEWELLYN," / 'DESERTED WIFE," "OVE'S LABOR WON," . DISCARDED DAUGHTER," /INDIA f "CdRISTMAP GUEST," ET0., ZET. Judge not; the workings of his brain Antd of his heart thou canst not see; What looks to thy dimn eyes a stain, In God's pure light may only be ' A scar, brought from some well-won field, Where thou wouldet only faint and yield.-A. A, PBOcTO PHLADELPHA: T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 306 CHESTNUT STREET. page: 0Advertisement (Table of Contents) [View Page 0Advertisement (Table of Contents) ] T. B. rPETERSON & BRBOTWRS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. 0. / MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH'S WORKS. Each Work is complete In one large Duodecimo Volume. A BEAUTIFU;L FIEND; or, THROUGH TH FIRE. A NOBLE L ORD. Sequel to "The Lost Heir of Linlithgow." THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITH G O W. THE FAML YDOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. THE M AIDEN WIDOW. Sequel to "TheFamily Doom." THE A RTIST'S L O VE. ORUEL AS THE GRAVE. THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. THE HBANGED BRIDES. THE BRIDE'S FA TE. A Sequel to "The Changed Brides." T:RIED FOR HgR LIFE. A Sequel to "Cruel as the Gr,."'- THE BRIDE OF LLEWErLYN. THE GIPS Y'S PR OPtE C Y. THAE FORTUNE SEEKER. THE LOST HEIRESS o THE CHRISTMAS GUEST. THE THREE BEBA vIEkES. FAIR PLAY; OR, THE TEST OP THE LONE ISLE. HOW HE WON HER. A Sequel to -"Fair 'Play." THE FATAL MARRIA GE. THE HA*UNTED HO'MESTEAD. "OVE'S 'LABOR WON.- THE MSSING BRIDE. i "ADY OF THE ISLE. I THE WIFE' S VICTORY. . J FALLEN PRIDE; OR, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL'S LOVE. INDIA; OR, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. VIVIA: OR, THE SECRET OF POWE:R. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. THE DISCARDED DA-UGHTER. THE MO THERR-IN-LAW. THE WIDOWWS SON., THE TWO SISTERS. THE BRIDAL EVE. N THE DESERTED WIFEN'. RETRIBUTION. ALL WORTH ABBEY. Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1,.60 in Paper' Cover. Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or j all of the above books will be sent to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers, t T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 306 Ca Xsmt. m'STa PHLADEBPHA, PA. OONTENNTSx: Chapter -I.-VtCTOR ...... PAT I..-HE 'CASTAWAt ....... . [. -THE H0oM OF T V ......... IV^.-MYS3"iUSl SSljtfiS.. X.* .. 6 4 VL-WsiwSi PEB PT A S MYaTI^ar 6. O..'.............. 89 VILtj HJB LIGCEHT-OUBI aSE LIA6&..... 4 65 0 "A* e. e*l e' T ...e eo* . .. , 6 8 i VL.---tHE LNDLRDG tTBeoB ....et eels eelse.... .-^ me se " t.-- LANDO' TO .... ........ ....0.' Y Xf.-A TWBaEACbt.. .......... ....... sa ^-MbX E UYS . . . . . . ., . * * * * * * * * * * * * @ * -0 XX- A E8OBE O ..i.... ............. . 0 * xn 2.-1ES , ESee e...... .... xir,.-Pan4 -A laE t '4^.... . O OO.,............ * 1.86 XXIL-A NIT PLOT.0 '. 1 IVA D.-INltW O tt O" ........N...... ;41 XV.--ART LEv O .......... li XVXL--A SENU AT LYATd iO Lo'd ' 1 XIX.--O A NI D PO .. .... .. XX.. .. ..a CtS... . ......... . ........ ...... * . a" oo XX C--ABM LIdPE PIRITs . ..... 155 X :33eSS t ,U o e &1lbe Weel e o " 1e page: 20 (Table of Contents) -21 (Table of Contents) [View Page 20 (Table of Contents) -21 (Table of Contents) ] 20 CONTENTS. Chapter PAGE XXV.--crISTMAS AT THE FAM........... ................ 158 XXVI.-CRAVEN KYl'E ........ .... ........ ........ .... ..166 Xxv JU.--ONE SATURDAY NIOGHT..... .... .,.. * .. . 171 XVYml.-THE U'NKNOWN BENEFACTOR......... .......... .. 1" XXIX.-WoT IS HE ................... ............. 182 XXXi.--A CHANGE...............o.. ................... 188( XXXI. -MOUNT ASCENSION .... .... O.... .... .... ... .: ,. 191 XXXJ I.-MRS. GREY .... ..... ............. .............. 196 XXXl- 1.- M A CAVENDISH .... O .............. .... ...... 200 XXXV.- THE BERrN,' IN EDEN ............................ 205 XXxV.-THE WIDOWS LOVERS 214 XXXV Ar-THE OOD AND THE EVIL OENIUS..... ... .... 223 XXXV IL-ELECTRA ................ **.. so f.t **... .' **0 227 XXXVU1.-A CHANGE OF FO iTU-N fl,.... , .............. 237 XXXIX.-N EW FRIENDS .......... ............ ........... .. * a . 247 XLL-UNDER THET SGYROVO EN'S SPELLa. ...................... 259 XLI---A GREAT SUPRISt FOR LAURA LYTTON.... 264 XnL.-GOVERNOR CAVENDISH AND ALDEN LTTON....... 268 XLIV.-A DEN *0. . **...,O o . .... ....s . * .... *.*... 278 XLV.--THE COQuTrM, IN A DUEMMMA........ ........ .... 284 XLVL.--THE SORCERESS... ........ .... ..... ... - . * .. 293 XLVH.-A GRAND NEW-YEAR'S REeP Tl ON ee 9..... ......... 301 X LVIm RUMORS .... . .s........-............ 307 XTX.-THE- BEAUT'lFL FIEND.... 812 L.-ENCHANTR8S8 AND ENCHANTED .......... . .... 315 l-MRms. GREY3 s CAR3ITIES... ... ................. 323 tn.-xNEW ARRifNtE$MTS T .... ........ o........ ..... 327 Lm.- THE BRIDE ELECT..*** . ........... ................333 LiV.-A LJZEi'rsE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES ................ 338 "V.-A SURPRISE FOR }PMMA..., .... ........ ......... ... 344 "VHEMMA'S FIRST BORROW .... ...................... ... 350 "VII--A TERRIBLE ENCOTERER ........................... 355 CONTENTS. 21 Chapter "IiCin.- RE1 'JUl u .ON.............. ........ ......... * * 866 TIX.-"THS IS T END OF .BAT .... .... ... ....... 371 "X-WHAT FOLLOWS ............... ........... s e 8" "XL-THE SEM-ffKFINT AND!THE DOVE ..... *v.* *.* *.*. * 882 "XnI.-TlHE dMXtl fBS... ...0 ... .... ,. 00 O 3887 IT. -I-THEI BLJUE CLIFFS.... ..... .... ........ 391 "XIVo-AT BLU ( ULIFF HATT ..... ....................... 97 "XV.-A REAPPVTARANCEY.0.. . 5 0^ 405 XVI.-A FAMY ECE ........ .. . ............ ..... O 1 "XVl.---TH E VSECRE ATO , AI ...... .. " ' a. 424 "XIf.-A. DISCOvItY. . .. A' 2 "XX.-THE WANDERER 3BTUB N............... ............. 439 "XXI-A LTSTIENER,ND WHAT SH "EARn, .. ....... 443 TIsP .-THrEL E8PASTER PARTY, ................. . ... 44- t g a J. . Lxxr -TH ASTER'R./ - '.. o . page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] TO MY DEABR FRIEND, MSS, ELIZABETH DUFFPY, DUFS COTTAGEB, GBEORGTOWN, THS BOOK IS DEDICATED, WITH THE ESTEEM AND AFFECTION OF THE AUTHOR. PsosPelr CoTmAGX, OEOBOETWKs, D. 0., i Pecomber 1lth, Iiia. A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. CHAPTER I. VICTOR. Life life I Oh, grantlhim this I To gaze at will on God's Might sun, To see the moss-marged streamlet runy To feel the wind's soft kiss; To' meet loved eyes where pity glows, To hear kind, words to soothe his woe.. Lifel lifet Oh, Heaven, for this! "TTICTOR HARTMAN! Stand up. Look upon the jury." The speaker was the Clerk of Arraigns. The scene was the crowded court room of the City Hall. The one addressed was the prisoner at the bar-a dark, , slim boy of about twenty years of age. He arose to his feet, and stood grasping the front rails of the dock, while he turned his pallid face and wild dark eyes toward the twelve men who held his life upon their lips. The clerk spoke again: "Gentlemen of the jury, look upon the prisoner." A dozen of as conscientious citizens as ever hung human being for horse-stealing, fixed their eyes upon the poor creature whose doom they were about to decide. (23) page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 A BEAUTIFUL- FIEND. "Gentlemen of the jury, how say you? Do you find Victor Hart*Qn, the prisoner at the bar, guilty or not" guilty of the wilful murder of Henry Lytton?" There was a pause, in which nothing could be heard, in the deathly stillness of the crowd, but the quick, low gasp of the agonized criminal, as, in the crisis of his fate, he clutched the railings before him. "We find him guilty," solemnly replied the foreman of the jury, in tones that were distinctly heard throughout the breathless assemjbly. And all eyes were bent upon the doomed boy to see how he would receive these words. But only those who were nearest to him could detect the quiver of his blood- less lips as he quickly covered his face with his hands and sank back upon his seat. There was a monent's silence still, and then a low mur- mur of approbation ran through the crowd. For this one's crime had been the most heinous on record, and had been abundantly proved upon him. And public sentiment had demanded his conviction, and now rejoiced in it. But the prisoner shrank a little at this demonstration. And then the voice of the crier was heard, commanding order to be observed in the court, and directing the pris- oner to stand up. He obeyed. And then the venerable presiding judge arose and said: "Victor Hartman! What have you to say why the sentence of the law should not be pronounced upon you?" Thetwretched boy thus addressed, lifted his large wild eyes appealingly to the judge's face, and replied: "Not much indeed, your honor. I did kill Henry Lyt- ton, my benefactor, I never denied it, your honor. And I 'would have pleaded guilty to the charge when I wael ar- raigned, only I was instructed not to do so. And besides, VICTOR. . 25 I did not feel so guilty as the charge made me out to be; for it said, (With malice aforethought.' There was no malice, your honor. There was only the whiskey and sud- den anger. A great many witnesses have proved that I murdered Mr. Lytton, your honor. And a great many have sworn that I went out to quarrel with him. And many more have testified that I was an idle, good-for-noth- ing vagabond, oftener drunk than sober. And mostly, they have spoken the truth, your honor, I have nothing to say against them. -Nor yet against the jury that have con- victed me. But still, though I am guilty enough to be wretched all my life, even if I were permitted to live and reform, still I am not so guilty as they have alli'made me out to. be. No one in the world but myself knows the A facts-the whole truth I mean-about that murder. And I, even if I should tell it, should not be believed, for I could not prove my words. Still I would like to say some- thing more for myself now, your honor, if I may have leave o0 ." SO (." Prisoner, the court is prepared to hear anything you may have to say in your defence,' somewhat curtly re- sponded the judge. The doomed man wiped the cold sweat from his fore- head, nerved himself, and continued: "Your honor, when I got out of my poor bed that morning of the murder, I had no more idea of the deed I should do before night, than the youngest child that said his daily prayer at his mother's knees. I am soon to die, your honor, and to die an ignominious death. I have not a hope in the world; for I have not a friend in the world.- And so I wish to speak the truth. "I went out that morning innocent of the thought of doing any-wong, far less of doing murder. I had had no breakfast, and I was very ,ungry. I sought work, that I f page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 A BEAUTIFUL F IEND. might get money and food. I found no work, but I found a comrade, who asked me into a dram shop to take a drink. Hi was half fainting from fasting; I was only too glad to accept his invitation. I went in, and took not one drink only, but two and' three; and upon an empty stomach. Then my comrade went upon his way, and I on mine. "I went to Mr. Arnott's wood yard, and asked him if he wanted a car driver, and told him that I would- work at lower wages than any other man he could get. Other men, I knew, got a dollar and a quarter, a day. So when he offered me seventy-five cents, I accepted the offer, and the matter seemeA settled, when Mr. Lytton came in. Mr. Lytton had dealt a good deal with Mr. Arnott, and knew 'him well. Mr. Lytton had been my benefactor, and of course knew me well. As soon as he saw me he turned to the wood merchant and said: "'Are you thinking of employing that fellow, Arnott? "And Mr. Arnott said ' Yes.' "'Then don't do it. He is an incorrigible drunkard, said Mr. Lytton. 'I have tried him time and again, and always found him false to every promise.' "Your honor, it was too true. Many and man y promise I had broken to Mr. Lytton, because Se love of drink had beguiled me and made me unfit to pipform them.. But still I felt as if he used, me hardly in trg to pre- vent me from getting work to earn a meal's victuals when I was starving. I now know that he said and did what he believed to be right, though it caused his destruction and mine. As soon as he had told this, Mr. Arnott turned to me and said: "'You may go, my man. I do not think that we shall want you.' - I expostulated, and promised better things. In vain. I was dismissed, and upon my protestation against what I ^ ^ " *. . v VIC TOK. - - 27 considered gross injustice, I was instantly ordered to leave the office. "Then it was that I turned to Mr. Lytton and shook my fist at him, and said, 'You shall pay for this'--the words that help to hang me, though I attached but little meaning to them then. "Your honor, I left the office and walked up and down the streets, homeless, penniless, friendless and starving. If even a dog had licked my hanid that day, it had not after- wards been dyed with blood. \ "I met many people in my wanderings-people whom I knew from repute to be really and truly good Christians; but they shrank from such a one as I; so that/I did not even dare to ask one of them for the help that, might have been my salvation. I have since thought that they must have forgotten that Christ came to call 'not the righteous, but sinners, to repentance.' "All God's people passed me by, and I them, I do not blame them for it; I was a wretch unworthy of their notice. "But by and by when, exhausted and despairing, I sat down on a curbstone near a dram shop, several 6f the devil's people came out in high glee, I did not know any of them. But they must have recognized me as a brother in sin and misery," for one of them, seeing me, said: "' Poor wretch -let's give him a drinks He'lU not, be any the worse for it' "And they took me into the shop and gave me a drink of rum. And then, being half cray from drinking on an empty stomach from morning tif aftiernoon, I told them all my troubles and my real or imaginary wrongs, and es- pecially the wrong that Henry Lytton, had done me, in depriving me of the chance of work. page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND' "And they all sympathized with me, in a reckless and rollicking sort of way, and said that Lytton was a brute, and that if they were in my place they' would give him a licking,' and so forth. And they gave me two or three more drinks, and laughed at me and left me. "They went their way, and I mine. "I was all on fire with rum. I knew not where I went; but my feet carried me out of the city by the river road. It was growing dark; I knew not, cared not, where I should sleep that chilly March night. I was crazed with want of food, excess of drink and sense of bitter wrong. But no thought of violence, still less of bloodshed, was in my mind." "I walked on rapidly toward-nowhere-until, being very weary, I sat down by the side of the road to rest, On one side of me were the high rocky banks of the river; under my feet the river, road; on the other side the river 'itself. I sat' there and might have fallen asleep, but that 'the sound of coming steps aroused me. "I looked up and saw Henry Lytton walking briskly and gayly onward. I knew that he was coming home from the city, after his day's business, to his pleasant suburban villa. And my heart burnt with anger against him, but not with 'bloodthirstiness,' as the Prosecuting Attorney said. , . ; "He drew near me, and as I thought of the contrast in our situations-he going to his pleasant rural home, and I homeless, penniless, and starving by the roadside through his means--I lost all self-command, and staggered to my feet and threw myself in his way and accosted him. What I said or did afterward, I do not clearly remember; for, as I said before, I was quite mad from the- effects of hunger, drunkenness and what' I considered bitter injuries. He, Mr. Lytton, then treated me with contempt and ;ignominy VICTOR. 29. well deserved, no doubt. But then I lost the last remnant of my reason. And I have no clear remembrance of what followed. All is dim. I have a vague impression that Is picked up a heavy fragment af rock and struck him down with it. "All I remember after that, is waking up the next morning in the station-house, and being told that I was arrested for murder. "And all I wish to impress upon your honor is this- that there was no forethought and no malice in that murder. If I were to tell your honor that there was no consciousness of it either, I should tell no more than the truth. Heaven knows there was none. i "I do not hope that my poor words will have the least effect. But I must speak them, and add this-that since I did that deed, I have had no peace of mind for a single conscious moment of the day or night. An utter wretch- edness of spirit,- incomprehensible to the innocent, has made life such a burden to me, that I would willingly seek the peace of the grave, if I might. If my death could restore to life the slain man, Heaven knows how gladly I would die. My death cannot restore his life. "But my life might atone for his death. Therefore I do so much wish to live. And if my life could but be spared, darkened and burdened and most'wretched as it is now, and must ever be, my future should be devoted to atone for my past. "I know of course that my life cannot be spared. It is forfeited, and most justly forfeited, to the,broken laws of the land. I must submit to my fate. "But there is one thing for which I devoutly thank' Heaven. I have not a friend in the world to mourn my doom. .Your honor, I hve done." And here the wretched boy bowed and stood with de- , page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. pressed head waiting to receive the awful sentence of the law. No one in that court-room believed one word that he had said in extenuation of his crime. A murmur of in- credulity and contempt passed through the crowd. It was, however, speedily stopped by the voice of the crier: "Let there be silence in the court, while sentence of death is pronounced upon the prisoner.)" And a stillness as of the grave fell upon the whole assembly. The venerable presiding Judge then arose and addressed the prisoner. "Victor Hartman, you have been found guilty, after a careful and impartial trial, by a jury of your peers, of the awful crime of wilful mur er-a crime, in your case, ren- dered even more atrocious by the circumstances under which it was committed. This murder was perpetrated upon the person of your benefactor, for whom it has been proved you laid wait, and whom it is known you basely assassinated, "You have endeavored to palliate your dreadful deed. It is needless to say that you have not succeeded in doing so. There is scarcely any one in the sound of my voice who does not concur in the verdict that has just been ren- dered, and look upon your deed as the premeditated crime of an assassin, Young in years, but old in sin, you have terminated I your career of vice by the capital crime which g:ill place you : on the scaffold. And it becomes my duty here to warn you against the entertainment of any vain hope of pardon or respite, or even of commutation of punishment; for there is not a chance in this world for you. And I here exhort and entreat you to use wisely the short time that is yet left you on earth in reflection upon your past life, repentance I f ..;N VICTOR. 31 for your past crimes, and prayer for pardon to that All- merciful Lord from whom alone pardon may be sought and found. And now. nothing remains for me to do but to pronounce upon you the sentence of the law." , And here the Judge slowly put on the black cap, and spoke the dread words of doom that consigned the pile boy before -him to an ignominious death. With pallid cheek and quivering lips he heard his fate, and sank to his seat. The order was given to remove the prisoner, and the court was immediately adjourned. Two policemen took charge of the condemned. One snapped the handcuffs on his wrists; the other arranged a short cloak over his shoulders, and then they led him out between them. They had some trouble to get him through the crowd in x the court room that still lingered to see him pass. And even when they had led him from the building, they found another crowd on the outside waiting to see him brought forth. And many were the wounding words bestowed upon the prisoner as he passed. And he deserved them all, nd doubt; but he was not able to bear them any better on that account. "Is that Hartman? He looks like a murderer," whis- pered one woman in his hearing. "I am glad a jury has been found at last to convict a nurderer. Things had come to such a pass that no one's life was safe from the villains," said a man. "And this Hartman was a: most atrocious villain- ilways was. Anybody might have known that he would Save come to this-only look at him I " remarked another. "Yes; he looks like a gallows bird." As he passed on between the two policemen, hearing Ihese bitter but well-deserved reproaches, and hearing not page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. one merciful accent, he bowed his head upon his breast until he came to the corner of the street leading to the prison, when suddenly a sweet, compassionate voice stole upon his ear. ; "Why, is that Hartman, the murderer, they talk so much about-that poor, poor boy! Oh, I do feel so very sorry for him!" murmured the musical voice. Hartman raised his bowed head, and saw standing by the palings of the City Hall Park a fair young giirl of about fifteen yem's of age, with golden ringlets shading a snowy forehead, and tender blue eyes full of compassion. She was neatly dressed in a light blue gingham suit and a white straw hat. She carried in her arms a pile of school books. And she was accompanied by other children, also carrying -books. She was only a school-girl, but her sweet compas- sion Jteched the broken-hearted prisoner, and brought the tears to his eyes, as he faltered, in passing: "I thank you, Miss, for your kind words. Pray for the poor sinful prisoner, for the Lord will hear you." "Yes, I will pray for you, poor, poor soul! And you must pray for yourself too, for the Lord will hear you just as soon as He will hear me, or anybody elpe. And maybe sooner too, because you are in such heavy sorrow," said the fair girl, as he passed out of her hearing. "I shall die within a few weeks; but if I could live to, the age of threescore and ten, I should never forget that young angel's face," muttered the prisoner to himself, as he ' was led into the jail yard. He was taken at once to his cell, and locked in. It was a very bare den, with whitewashed wall and grated door, a narrow cot bedstead, and a stone jug of water-nothing more, for the prisoner had neither friends nor relatives to supply him with such comforts as were not provided by ! the prison. ) X VICTOR. v 33 He sat down on the side of his cot, and, buried his face in his hands, feeling unspeakably desolate and wretched. Suddenly something jumped upon his lap, and began purring and singing to him. It was only a little white kit- ten that he had found forlorn and starving, and picked up out of the gutter, and put into his bosom that day upon which the magistrate had first committed him to prison to await his trial. He had kept and fed the kitten ever since. It was the companion of his cell, and it slept on his cot at night. And now it had jumped upon his knees, and was purring and singing to express its innocent affection and pleasure. "And I said I had not a friend in the- world. And there is a child that pities me and a dumb creature that loves me still," murmured the condemned boy, as he gen- tly caressed his little four-footed companion. The door was now opened by a warder, who brought his aupper of rye coffee and brown bread, served in a tin cup and on a tin plate. He sat the cup and plate down on the cot beside the prisoner, and said: "The governor of the jail wants to know if you would like to see a minister of the Gospel to-morrow?" "Yes-no. I don't know yet. I haven't had time to think about it. But, John, look here: you have heard what has been done to me to-day?" "Yes," said John shortly and sadly. ," Well, it can't be helped. I'm a goner. But after I'm gone, you will not let poor Mopsy starve, John?" he asked, strokiig his kitten's fur. "No, I won't. I'll feed the cat. I'll take it home to mother. She dotes on cats, she does." "Thank'y, John. Do so; take her home to your mother. 2 page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 ,A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Ah 1 thank Heaven, I have no mother to break her heart for mrel Ah I that a man should come to such a pass as to thank Heaven that he has not a friend in the world except a poor little four-footed creature who cannot know his fate, and whose ' ignorance bliss! '" -sighed Hartman. I wish you'd see the minister, I do," was all that the good-natured yoang warder found to say. "Well, then, if you wish it, I will see the reverend gen- tleman any time to-morrow," said- Hartman. "And won't you just try to eat a little bit of supper?" pleaded John. , Hartman togok up the tin cup, and drank the coffee, and then he broke off a piece of the rye bread, and gave it to his hungry kitten, Finally he pushed away the cup and plate. "There, I can do no better than that now. Don't worry about me, John. I'm not worth it. And any way it can't be helped," said the poor fellow a little inconse- quently. "No, I s'pose it can't," sighed the warder, as he took the cup and plate and left the cell, locking the door after him. Hartman threw himself down upon his cot, and tried to pray; but the words of prayer came slowly and awkward- ly to his unaccustomed lips. "Some one must teach me how to pray," he -said. And then he thought of the blue-eyed girl, and he added: "She bade me pray. She could teach me how. She will pray for me to-night, I know. And I would rather have her prayers than a bishop's." He folded his hands and closed his eyes. And Heaven had pity on him, for he slept, and dreamed of his child- hood's home. *- I l CHAPTER H. THE CASTAWAY. Of friends, of hope, of all bereft.-CowrEs, a few words as to the antecedents of this poor l guilty wretch, who was doomed to end a brief life of vice and crime by an early and ignominious death. Victor Hartman was the only living son of a deceased farmer, who once lived upon a small rented farm in the vicinity of the city. In his early childhood he lost his mother and several sisters and brothers. At the age of ten years he was presented with a young step-mother, with whom he could not agree, and against whose authority he constantly rebelled. He was therefore sent to a public school in the city, where he soon became equally noted for his quickness at learning and at all sorts of mischief. He remained at the public school three years, making extraordinary progress in his education. At the age of thirteen years, however, he grew tired of the routine that he had really never liked, and'he ran away to sea, and went as cook's boy on a whaling vessel bound for the Antarctic Ocean. He soon grew tired of the whaler, and took the first opportunity of deserting from her. While she was at an- chor in one of the most southerly of the South American (35) page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. ports, he managed to make his escape and conceal himself bn board of a brig bound for San Francisco. His hiding-place was not overhauled until the brig was well out to sea. Then he was- dragged out, half smothered and half starved, and made to meet the fate of a " stow- away." He was well rated by the first mate, and com- pelled to work hard during the remainder of the voyage. After landing at San Francisco, he led a vagrant life in the city for several months, and then made his way to the gold diggings, where he was moderately fortunate. He passed two or three years in California, and then tiring of that life, as he tired of everything, he made a voy- age to China and Japan. He deserted again at Yokohama, concealed himself un- til his ship sailed, and then he enlisted on a British mer- chantman bound for Sydney, Australia. As he had shipped only for the voyage, he left the ship as soon as he reached Sydney, and started for the gold fields of Australia. He was not so successful here as he had been in Califor- nia. He was soon reduced to such a state of destitution that he was compelled to work his way to the nearest sea- port, where he shipped as seaman on the first homeward- bound vessel. As he approached his native shores a great homesick- ness seized him. He was possessed with a longing desire to revisit once more the scenes of his childhood--to see the old farm, with its antiquated farm-house, its quaint garden, its apple orchard and corn-fields, to meet his father, and the two old negroes, and even the horses and cows. But seven years had passed, and he had twice circum- navigated the globe gi that time, and had not once seen or heard from his home, since he had left it. What changes might not have happened there in these years? THE CASTAWAY.. 37 In due season his ship reached New York. As soon as the crew was paid off, he started for the South. In due time he came to the village near which" his fa- ther's farm stood. He stopped at the little country tavern toget supper and make inquiries before walking out to the farm.- SBut "ah I what soi bwful'I ew ne her'e Bei6t the pdigsl son! There was no father to welcome his return. .;Thi;t father had departed. tethis lifte Sfx 'years befBre.: Thiefar had passed into other hands The s tock an:d lml emenfts and household furniture had been sold, and4 sa6tet'ebdfit and wide.' His step-mother had marrid"agai, ana was now living somewhere in Minnesota w1ih her new, lusand. The effect of 'this news upon; his mained wasg' taay-' cIe-- pressing. He had now no desire to visit' tl'e 'iiarm. His half-formed resolutions of amendment were utterly de- stroyed. The father for whose' sak -he I ight have 're- formed had passed to another world. The hoi0e; to6 whic he meant to have returned was in the hands'of silnngrss. So, instead of:walking to Beec:hwood Farmi:,se'liad intended that night, he remaine min the cdountry tavern. -Poor wretch!- he found hiriself homeless and friendieSs, not in a foreign land, but in his own coun:tr'y, and althr0l ti his own fault. . . : .....:- ' . Instead of the returned prodigal's miost lovifg elch -s -' ba hi s - . and joyous feast in his father's house, he had his lodrng m the dull village tavern, with the m emory 'of his" 'i A s, , and his lather's broken heart for :company. : ' , He could not bear the situation. He esotrted' .o the only comfort he knew--the ;treacherou's andt1ai .co olt of the bottle. After deep potations, he went to bed, and fell into a heavy sleep that lasted long into the next morning. He arose about noon, and after breakfasting, he took the next page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. stage-coach that passed, and went back to the city--that city so soon to become the scene of his crimes and his punishment. For a week or two after his arrival, he rambled about the: town, living here and there in the lowest public-houses until he had spent all his sailor's pay. And then it became necessary for him to :seek employment, in order to obtain food.- r But his wild and wandering life, his idle and reckless habits, hid totally unfitted him for any but the humblest manual labor.. Occasionally he obtained a job to put in wood or coal, to driye a cart or to carry a heavy parcel. And the pit- tance gained by these labors would be oftener spent in rumin than in;fo6d. ... Chance threw him in the way of Mr. Henry Lytton, a busylawyer who had his office in the city and his residence in a abeautiful suburban villa. 'Mr. Lytton 'employedhim first to sweep and dust and build fires inhllmso ffice. For a few days Hartmap performed his duties, faithfully. But the demon of drink had got too fast a hold, upon: him. Soon he began to neglect his work. His employer often came to the office in the morning, and found -it closed, cold and -comfortless, and his .porter miss-' ing. .. Mr. Lytton soon discovered the cause of his boy's derelic ition, and he expostulateda with' him.-- But in' vain; for although4 Hartmani would always promise to reform he never did so, andhis habits grew worse and worse. Mr. Lyttop discharged him. We know the sequel to that sad story. ,' , * *D' / CHAPTER III. THE HOME OF, THE VICTIM X A splendid villa in the Greciaft style, Upon the green banks of a noble river, Whose waters seem deliciously to smile, Like loving friends who linger, loth to sever. JpHN DRABE. BOUT three miles south of the city, and upon a small hilly point juttiing out into the river, stood the pretty villa known as Highsight, and once owned by the murdered lawyer Henry Lytton, if indeed a house so heavily mort- gaged could be said to be owned by the nominal proprietor. Henry Lytton was first a self-madae, and then a self- marred man--a conjunction not at all uncommon. He was the second son of a southern planter, of good family, but of reduced fortune. As the law of primogeniture had continued to be the rule of his family long after it had ceased to be a statute of the Commonwealth, Henry Lytton, the younger brother, could not hope for an interest in the dilapidated mansion and exhausted acres of the old plantation, which was sure to be the sole inheritance of the eldest. son. Thus, seeing that he had his own way to make in the world, and being a very keen-witted young man, he re- solved to give himself to the study of the law, and he per- suaded his father to send him into the office of a city law- yer, where he could read law books and attend the lectures of the law college. ' (39) page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. This was a serious expense to the impoverished father, who, however, willingly took upon' himself the new burden. And in due course of time Henry Lytton graduated, and was called to the bar. "So far so good." He made an excellent barrister. He was gifted with a very handsome person, a very ex- pressive countenance and a most winning address. Thus he possessed great power over the minds of other men, and could at any time " make the worse appear the better cause." X He rose rapidly-in his profession, and made much money. He purchased an estate and built a beautiful country seat on the banks of the river, which, from its elevated position and extensive prospect, he called "Highsight." He married a amous city beauty of old family and no fortune, and he set up housekeeping with her, in his new country seat, in a style more in accordance with his pride than his purse. This was the commencement of his ruin. He enter. tained company very frequently, and very expensively. He kept race-horses and foxhounds, and a pleasure boat. And, worse than all, he gambled. And thus it followed that although he made a great deal of money, he spent a great deal more than his income, and as the years went by he became more and more in- volved in debt. Two-, children were born to him-a .boy and a girl. Bst even the birth of thesd children failed to inspire him with any sense of a parent's responsibility. He continued his reckless pursuit of pleasure. When his boy and girl were respectively four and two years of age, his beautiful wife died. And then he became more reckless than ever, as if he would drown grief in dis- sipation. THE HOME OF THE VICTIM. 41 He did not marry or seek to marry again. He took a housekeeper to overlook his servants. And he gave more dinners, suppers, card parties, etcet- era, than ever before. In all this he did not neglect his professional business, but he made it the minister of his pleasures. He was perhaps the most popular man in his own large circle of acquaintances. And he was generally believed to be as prosperous as he was popular. No one knew how deeply he was involved. No one suspected that the great lawyer was on the very brink of bankruptcy. It was when his son was seventeen years of age, and his daughter fifteen, that his sudden and tragic death re. vealed the true state of his affairs. When the coroner and jury with their attendant officers had left the house, and the dead to the undertaker and his men, it was discovered by the heart-broken boy and girl that there was not ready money enough to meet immediate and pressing demands. Some watches and jewelry were sent out and sold. And a telegram was dispatched to the grandfather, old Able Lytton of Lytton Lodge, near Wendover,; to tell him of the death of his younger son. The grief-stricken old man came without delay, and reached Highsight on the morning of the day appointed for the funeral. He had seen very little lately of his son or of his grand. children. The busy lawyer, equally devoted to his profess sion and his pleasures, had found little time to visit his aged parents. In fact,from the time that he established himself at Highsight, he had never once returned to his old home. But the old man, at-rare intervals of three or four years, had come up to the city to see his son. Now, however, five years had passed since his last visit. And the son , Y . "' page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 A BEAUTIFUL,-FIEND. that he had last met in the full vigor of life and health, lay mutilated and dead in his coffin; and the boy and girl he had last seen as blooming children of twelve and, ten years, were now a pale and sad youth and maiden of seventeen and fifteen years. And to add to his trouble, their de- ceased father, whom he had believed to be so prosperous and wealthy, had died on the very brink of bankruptcy, and left an estate mortgaged to its full value, and debts that could scarcely be paid by the sale of all his personal property; and thus left his son and daughter destitute. On the day after the funeral, which was a grand and costly pageant, more in accordance with the late lawyer's expensive style of living than with his orphan childrens destitute circumstances, the house being restored to order and quiet, old Able Lytton called his grandson and grand- r daughter to, him, and said: "My dear Alden and Laura, I must remain here for a few weeks to settle up your poor father's affairs as well as I can, for there is no one else but me to do it, I think., The mourning youth and maiden made no answer, but clung to each other in their desolation. The old man went on to say: "But you see, my dears, that it would be worse than vain to stay here an hour more than needful. The sooner we have a sale and pay off the debts, and leave, te place, the better." ? "I only want to stay near town long enough to see my father's murderer hung l" exclaimed the- youth, his fists clenched, his lips trembling and his black eyes flashing fire. His sister clung to him, hid her face in his bosom and sobbed: "The murderer will meet with his due, that is certain. But you will not see it. You would not like to see it, would you, my boy?" asked the old man. THE' HOME OF THE VICTIM. 43 "I WOULD X I would give my life, my soul, to see that man hung!" exclaimed the youth fiercely, grinding out the words between his clenched teeth. "Hush, my boy, hush! The man will be hung, but you will not see it. Lord forbid that you should. The au- thorities will never let a boy behold an execution, even though it should be of the murderer of his own father. Lord forbid that- tey ever should. Now let us talk of " something else," said the old man solemnly. "You may talk of what you please. Ishall think only of the death of my father and the eiecution of his mur- derer," gloomily replied the boy. The old man wisely refrained from replying to these dark words, and then went on to say: "When *e leave this house, I shall take you bothhome with me, for the present, to the old plantation. And so long as you shall need it, my home will be yours, of course. It will not be an elegant and refined place like this, but it will be a home of love and peace and grace. Your old grandmother, whom you have seldom seen, will welcome . you with much affection. She would have come with me, but the sudden news of her son's death prostrated her too much to permit her to make the journey. I hope to find her better when we get home." But I was to dhave gone to the University of Virginia, at Charlottesville, at the commencement of the next term," said Alden, with a sigh. And I was to have been sent -to the Ladies' Academy at Mount Ascension, but it is impossible now. And it does not matter much," added Laura in a tone of resig- nation. "Ah, my poor children, I am truly sorry for your dis- appointment as well as for your greater trouble.- But pa- tience! Better days may come," replied the old man. page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "I do not see when or how they can come," sighed the boy. "Nor I, my lad; but that is no reason why they should not come all the same," said Able Lytton. "'Oh, grandpa,".sighed Laura, speaking for both herself and her brother, " if only we had our father back again, we could bear our disappointment about the schools. If we could only have him, we would not mind if we never should go to school, or learn anything." And her large dark eyes overflowed in tears. The old mant soothed her as well as he' could. And soon after he left the, house, and went to the city to ,take the necessary legal steps toward settling up the very much embarrassed affairs of his deceased son. A few weeks from this time, the house and grounds were sold under the mortgage; and the household and office furniture, together with a valuable law library, were disposed of at public auction for the beneit of the creditors. There was nothing left for the heirs of the deceased, not even enough to pay their travelling expenses from the city. Their grandfather, old Able Lytton, as their nearest of kin, and their natural guardian, took the burden of their support upon himself, and resolved to convey them for the present to his plantation near Wendover. In leaving the bright honme of his childhood, young Alden Lytton had but one consolation-a very grim, re- vengeful ne--that Victor Hartman had been convicted of murder in the first degree and condemned to death. He would gladly have stayed in the city for a few days longer, to be present at the execution, or at least to be as near the scene as possible; but his grandfather, for the very opposite reason, the anxiety to escape the sight or hearing of the coming public tragedy, hurried their departure. ^vNL 'IVJ 'V -II .CYVA CHAPTER IV. M YSTBRIOUS ,MSSIVES. Why-what are these --SBRAss'VEARE. FEW days after the conviction of Hartman, the Governor of the State, on retiring to his bedroom late in the evening, found upon his dressing-table a letter f directed to himself in a strange handwriting. Surprised at the incident, and curious to know *hat it might mean, he opened the letter, and with increasing as- tonishment read these few mysterious lines: "To His EXHcTITCtTa THE GOVERNOR-Sir: Victor Hartman has been convicted of the wilful murder of Henry Lytton, and has been condemned to die for that crime. Sir, Victor Hartman did not kill Henry Lytton. And if they hang him they will hang an innocent man. You alone can now save his life, and you must do it, or- repent not doing it to -the last day of your existence. Believe this as the true statement of . "ONE WHO KNOWS." The astonishment of the reader passed away with a smile of scorn, as he tore up the letter- and threw it into the grate, saying: "The shallowest and most transparent device to obtain a pardon that I ever heard of in all my life.' And so he dismissed the subject from his thoughts, as too contemptible to be- worthy of a moment's attention. But in a few days he found another letter under his (45) page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " A BEAUTIFU L FIEND. plate at the breakfast-table. The handwriting, the en- velope, the note paper and the style of composition were all entirely different from those of the first; but the sub- ject matter was the same, namely, to the effect that Victor Hartman was guiltless of the death of Henry Lytton, and that if Victor Hartman should be hung, his death would not be an execution, but ia murder, that the Governor must save him, or never cease to deplore not doing so. This letter met the'fate of its predecessor. But the matter was not treated with quite so muqh contempt. On the contrary, his Excellency closely questioned the members of his family. They were, besides himself, his aged mother, his widowed sister, and his young daughter. But neither grandmamma, auntie nor Emma knew anything about the strange letter. They had not even seen it until papa drew it out from under his plate. 'The Governor next called up his servants and put them individually and collectively, under examination and cross- examination. -But each and all denied knowledge of the letter. And so the subject was dropped for the time bbing. Five days after this, the, day being the Sabbath, the Governor, with his family, attended church, and there, on the cushion of his pew, he found a third letter, entirely dif. ferent from either of the other two in appearance, yet written for the same purpose-the saving of Victor Hart- man from the scaffold: On his way hom, that, noon, the Governor tore up the letter and scattered its fragments to the winds. But he could not so easily drive the thought'of it from his mind, especially when, the next morning, as he entered the State, house, an unseen messenger stole up behind him, thrust another letter into his hand, and vanished before his Excel. lency could wheel around to detect him. MYSTEhRIOUS M ISSIVES. 47 This fourth letter, differing from all the others in all other particulars, was identical with them in the one feature, reiterating the innocence of Victor Hartman, and insisting upon his reprieve from death. The Governor was extremely annoyed, especially as the. mysterious 'affair had somehow or another found its way into, the newspapers, and was giving occasion of much wit and merry-making among the penny-a-liners. Of course neither the Governor nor; any one else be- lieved for one instant in the truth of the assertions made in these anonymous letters relative to the innocence of Victor Hartman. On the contrary, they knew that his guilt was entirely established, not only by the testimony of others, but by the confession of the criminal himself. Victor Hartman had never denied that he killed Henry Lytton. On the contrary, he had freely confessed in open court that he had done so, pleading only that he had not v done it with malice aforethought; and so the newspapers, in speaking of these strange letters, took care;to remind their readers-a needless precaution, since every one per- fectly remembered the pathetic self-accusation of the con- demned man. There were many theories afloat concerning the un- known writer or writers of these letters. 'One was that they came from some-relative or friend of the criminal upon this "forlorn hope."- Another, that they were from some morbid humanita- rian opposed to capital punishment, who took this eccentric means to try to save the guilty man. And still another, that they were written by Haltman himself, who procured them to be conveyed to their desti- nation through bribing some one among the subordinate officers of the prison. page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. But not one of these theories would bear the test of a moment's examination. He had neither relative nor friend to care for him. There were no opponents to capital punishment in the city, which was singularly conservative in its thought. And lastly, he had no money to bribe the lowest official to help him. Meanwhile the Governor appointed the day of execu- tion and signed the death warrant. And Victor Hartman, without the shadow of a hope, spent all his time in trying to prepare for death. The Rev. Mr. Lyle was his spiritual guide and instructor, and passed many hours daily with him in his cell, reading and expounding the Scriptures, and praying with the penitent. I said the condemned man was trying to prepare for death, but he was not resigned to death. He was possessed i of a passionate longing to live much greater than might be explained by the natural love of life. On this one point alone his pastor could not influence him. The day of the execution drew very near. The Goverpor continued to receive the mysterious let- ters, iterating and reiterating the- writer's positive knowl- n edge of the condemned man's innocence, and urging and insisting upon a full remission of the sentence. They still- reached their destination in the strangest manner--one being drawn from his pocket with his hand- kerchief, another found in his hat with his gloves; one dropped from the folds of his umbrella, and another laid in A his path as he walked before his own door. i The utmost vigilance of the police failed to detect the Writer. i, Three days before the one appointed for the execution i of Victor Hartman, Governor Cavendish with his family - .... THE NIGHT VISIT. 49 eft town for his country seat among the Blue Ridge Moun. ains, where it was his custom to spend a few weeks of the aidsummer of each year. Only on this occasion he left own earlier than usual in the season, and it was said- and lot without some good reason, that he went to be out of he way of the public tragedy to be enacted the next day. He went by train to Wendover, a picturesque mountain Lamlet, where his own travelling carriage met him-by ,ppointment, to take him and his party to their home. CTAPTPER V. THE NIGHT VISIT. / (Aark deed, my masters ,-FLETOER. BHE ancient colonial mansion, known as Cliff Hall was-a L large gray stone building situated at the base of the nlue Cliffs, a spur of the Blue Ridge. It had been in the Possession of the Cavendish family from the first settlement f the country. The road from Wendover to Cliff Hall wound through beautiful wood for about seven miles. It was late in the vening of the second day's journey when the carriage with he travellers reached Cliff Hall. The widowed sister of the Governor was there to re- eive them, and all things were prepared for their comfort. "You are down a month earlier than usual ,this year, Charles," said Mrs. Wesley, as she welcomed her brother. "Yes, Susan; there are some parts of my official duty I lever can perform without much pain, and-" "I understand. Signing a death warrant is one of hem." , page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Yes. And to be frank with you, I have come down here to be out of the way. of seeing or hearing of the ex- ecution." "What about those mysterious letters that the newspa- 'pers report you'are constantly receiving?" "Touching the innocence of the prisoner, and 'the pro- priety, of his pardon? Yes; I have been getting them almost every day. Some monomaniac whem we have failed to detect writes them, I presume. They produce no other effect upon my mind than annoyance. The condemned man is guilty, even by his own confession." "It is strange," said Mrs. Wesley. "It is strange; but let us not talk of it. I came down here to get rid of the whole subject," said Governor Cav- endish. And he took up his light too go to his room, to change his dress for supper. He made a hasty toilet, and then went down to the dining-room, where he found his venerable mother and his young daughter already dressed and waiting for him. They were soon joined by his sister. And then the whole 'party sat down to supper. The meal was scarcely half way through, when a loud knock was heard at the hall door. Now, if this knock had come to the street door of the city mansion, there would have been nothing strange or unusual in it. But coming to the door of that remote mountain home, at that late hour, and upon the first night of the master's arrival, it was, to, say the least, rather startling. All-looked up from the supper-table to gaze at each other inquiringly. But before a question could be asked, Jerome, the hall waiter, entered and put a folded slip of paper in his master's hands. The Governor opened it, read it, and, changed color so quickly, that his mother anxiously inquired: THE NIGHT VISIT. 5} "What is it, Charles?'?" Without answering, without even hearing the venerable lady's question, the Governor turned to the servant, and said hastily: "Show the visitor into my study, and say that I will meet him there immediately." The servant bowed, and went out with his message. "Who is it, Charles.?" inquired his sister. But Governor Cavendish hurried. from the room with. out seeming to know that she had spoken, "Well, that is. queer too!" said the old lady, in. sur- prise. "Very queer, I think," added the younger- one, in some. pique. And they sat and waited with impatient curiosity- for. the son and brother's return., Half an hour passed, and the study bell was then so, sharply rang, that the hall footman ran in haste. to- an- swer it., Both ladies simultaneously arose from the table and went to the door that led from the dinilg-room to the hall. And there they waited anxiously, until the footman came, out from the -study and hurried past them. They called after him in suppressed tones: "What is the matter, Jerome?. " "I don't know, ma'am. Master has ordered the car-. riage with fresh horses to take him all the way to, Wend- over, to meet the midnight train," answered the man, as he hurried out on his errand. "Good gracious, is he going back to town to-night?" exclaimed Mrs. Wesley, "What on earth can take him there?" inquired old- Mrs. Cavendish. Both questions were partly answered by the appearance page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 A BEAUTIFUIL FIEND. of Governor Cavendish himself, who came out from his study looking pale, anxious, and in fact mniore profoundly agitated than they had ever seen him. "Charles, is it true that you are going back to town to- nighto?" inquired the old lady, as he was rushing past. "Yes, mother; I am called there by the most impera- tive duty," he answered, as he hurried up the stairs, ( That's the strangest thing I ever knew him to do in my life," complained the old lady. " I suppose in fact that this visitor has brought some important news, that makes it necessary for him to go," observed the younger one, as they still lingered near the dining-rdpm door. The sound of the carriage wheels was heard rolling up to the hall. door. And at the same moment Mr. Cavendish came down the stairs prepared for his sudden night jour- ney, and followed by his servant carrying his portmanteau. He stopped first at the study door, knocked, and said: "I am ready." The mysterious stranger came out. Both ladies looked at him. But they could see nothing of his face, for his coat collar was turned up around his cheeks, and his hat brim was pulled down over his brows. He passed them very quickly and went out. And the next moment they heard the sound of his horse's hoofs galloping away. Governor Cavendish approached his astonished rela- tives. He was pale and agitated, yet he strove to conceal his emotion under a commonplace manner, as he said hastily: "Good-by, mother. Good-by, sister. Take care of FEmma, and expect me back in two or three days.' And before they could express their amazement he was- gone. THE NIGHT -VISIT. 53 As the sound of his carriage wheels died away in the distance they returned. to the drawing-room, where their attention was. immediately drawn to FEmma. The fair' girl was sitting at the marble centre,;table: with her arms resting. upon its top, and her head bowed, until all its light ringlets drooping veiled her face. "And what ever can be the matter with that girl? She has been moping all the evening. I am afraid she is going to be ill," said Mrs. Wesley, gazing fixedly at her niece. "Come here, Emma. Let me look at you, my love," said the old lady, as she sank down into her easy-chair. Finding herself noticed, the young girl would willingly have escaped from the room; but at the command of her grandmother, she lingered. , "Come, my child. I want to look at you," repeated the old lady. , Then Emma came and stood at her side, with eyelids drooping and bosom heaving. . "What ails you, Emma? Are you ill?" She shook her fair head, but her lips quivered. "Then what is amiss?" "Oh, nothing, grandma? Nothing with me-only--it is very foolish, but I cannot help it." And she burst into tears, and sobbed convulsively. The old lady drew the girl closer to her side, as she said tenderly: "Now I know you never weep without a cause, Emma, for you never were hysterical; and I insist on your telling me what troubles you." "Oh, dear grandma, never mind me," sobbed the girl. "So you won't tell me, then "?" "Oh, yes, I will. But it is so weak and .foolish of. me to- But I cannot help it. Oh, grandma! it is about that page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. wretched boy who is going to be-executed to-morrow What a night this must be to him! Oh! oh!" - And the girl dropped her head upon the old lady's shoulder and sobbed afresh. "What nonsense, nEmmna! The wretch is nothing to us," said Mrs. Wesley. "I know it, Aunt Susan; but I am so sorry for him." "And murderers ought to be hanged, for the proteo tion of society." "I know it; but I am so sorry for him." The old lady bent over her and caressed her, d soft - ly inquired: "Why do you feel so much pity for this particular man, Emma? You felt none for Burke, who was hung last winter." "No. I never thought about him. Arid perhaps ] should never have thought about-this one either, only ] saw him once." "You saw him, Miss Cavendish? That was verJ shocking!" exclaimed Mrs. Wesley. "Yes, Aunt Susan. I was coming home from school that afternoon, and I passed by the City Hall just as they were bringing him out, after his sentence.- And when I saw his poor pale face and wild, distressful eyes, I pitied him and I said so to my companions. And he heard me, and turned his-poor eyes on me, and thanked me for pitying him, poor soull as if there was any merit in doing what I ,could not help. And he asked me to pray for him. And I promised to do so, and I have done so every day since And oh, grandma!" she added, turning to her best friend "this is his last night, this awful night, and I can do noth ing for him!" "Yes, my child, you can still pray for him," said the :old lady kindly. .\ ' WHTE PERCH POINT. 55 "Young people should never hear of such dreadlful things," said Mrs. Wesley warmly. "They will all have to go out of the world then. For all who are in it, young and old, tender or hard, must hear of such things. But come, Fnmma. You and I will go and pray for the poor soul. Yes, and hope for him too; for, after all, we do not know what to-morrow may bring forth." CITAPTEI VI. WlJiTEl PERCH POINT AND ITS MYS'TERY. And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep, This water doth send forth a dolorous groan; Some say because a murder has been done, And blood cries out for blood. WORDSWORTH. IT was absolutely necessary for Mr. Lytton and his grandchildren to exercise the closest economy in their travelling expenses. So instead of going by the railway train, that would have taken them across the country to Wendover in twenty-four hours, they embarked on board a small river coaster, on which by day they shared the narrow deck with the captain and the hands, and by night were cribbed in the close cabin below. After nearly a week of beating down stream against a head wind, they were put on shore at a place called "White Perch Point," distant about thirty miles from Lytton Lodge, and about twenty from Wendover. On the extreme'end of this point was a light-house, now, strange to say, kept by an old woman and a girl. And a few hundred yards further inland, out of the reach ;* ^ ' , page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. of the waves, stood the neat white cottage occupied by the two woRnen. On the same side of the river, about an eighth of a mile from the light-house and the keeper's cottage, stood a clus- tre of white buildings, looking like a small village. But they were only the White Perch Point Hotel and its vari- ous outhouses. This point was once a very popular resort for excur- sionists, amateur fishermen, and other pleasure seekers; but now it had fallen from its ancient prosperity, and presented rather a dilapidated and neglected appearance. The small row-boat from the schooner landed our trav- ellers at the broken and decayed wharf, and then returned Moto the vessel. "I remember, my children, when this used to be a very fashionable summer resort, frequented by all the best fam- ilies of the neighborhood, for salt-water bathing, or for fishing, or for picnics, and even for balls," said Able Lyt- ton, as he walked with his young people up the long grass- grown road leading from the wharf toward the house. "And such a beautiful place as it might be made! Why has it fallen into such decay?" inquired dark-eyed Laura. "Well, my darling, the fact is, old Fanning and his seven sons, who used to keep the place, were their own best cus- tomers in all the most expensive and delusive pleasures of the place, especially in wines, liquors, cigars, cards and so forth. We know the end of these things. The father died. The sons scattered. One went to Texas, another to Califor- n'a, another to sea. Each took his separate road to ruin, and doubtless arrived there. The eldest retained the house here, and runs it after a fashion ;i for when he had paid his brothers and sisters the legacies left them, and had disa charged the debts of the estate, there was very little left to carry on the business, even if Fred Fanning had ever pos- WHTE PERCH POINT. 57 sessed any business capacity. His wife-strange to tell, a lady by birth and education-is no better as a landlady than he is as a landlord. And you see the result." By this time the party had drawn near the house, and were met by a loitering old negro man, who touched his hat and stood as if waiting orders. "Well, Uncle Adam, how are all your folks?" kindly inquired Mr. Lyttoin. "Lor, Marse Able, how you 'spect dem gwine to be?" asked the negro, scratching his head. "Why, nothing wrong up there, I hope?" inquired Mr. Lytton. "There is mostly something wrong there, how- ever,'" he added, in a lower tone. "Why, lor', Marse Able, an't you hearn?" asked the man, opening his eyes wide with astonishment. "Heard? What? I've heard nothing. You forget that I haven't been down this way for the last five years." i Lor' bress my poor ole soul I thought as all the worr must o' hearn," said Adam, still scratching his head. "What's amiss? -JHas there been another flood, an- other fire, another levying, or what?" "Oh, Marse Able, sir, worse'n all that'put together-'a 'lopement, sir." "An elopement! Who's eloped, in the name of wonder?" "Miss Ivy, sir." "Iv Iy! that child! Nonsense!" . "Truth I'm telling you, sir; 'deed it is! Miss Ivy was at boardin'-school in de city, an' dere comed a letter down to Marse Fred from de schoolmistess, axin' had she coned home to us maybe, and telling us how she was a missin' from de school-house ebber sence the night before, and dey didn't know what had comed of her. Didn't Mistess faint dead away on the spot? And didn't Marster go to town a hoppin'?' Umph-hum! I tell you." page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "For Heaven's sake I! when did all this happen?" "Why, 'bout two mont's ago, Marse Able, sir-jes about-may be little more." "And what has become of the unfortunate girl? She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old." "She was fifteen last May; but that forrard of her age-umph-hum!-I tell you."- "What has become of her? Where is she now? Why did she leave her school? Who enticed her away?" "Lor's a massy upon me, Marse Able! I couldn't be- gin to 'member half the things you ask me. Lemme see. -Marse went up town a hoppin'-umph-hum!-I tell you. He took two bowie knives, and a pair o' wolwers-" "A pair of what?" "Woluwers I wolwers --little pistols as keep on a shootin', you know." "Oh, revolvers! go on!" "An' he went up town a hoppin'." "Well?" "Arter a week, he came back looking like death." , :WNell, what then?" "Nuffin." "What?" "Dat's all." "But the girl?" i: Don't know nuffin 'bout her. Ef Marse an, Mis' do, dey keeps it to derselves close 'nough-umph-hum!-I tell you. It's my 'pinion, Marse Able, as dem two nebber mentions ob dere darter's name, eben private 'tween der- selves. 'Cause why? you axes. 'Cause dere's my darter Rosy; she as used to be own maid to Miss Ivy, ebber sence dey bofe could run alone, till Miss Ivy went to dat cussed infunnelly city boardin'-school as has been her ruin- ation. Well, my darter Rosy hasn't done nuffin but pine I WHTE PERCH POINT. 59 and pine ebber sence her young mistess run away, nobody knowed where. And she have got a dreadful crik into her neck, which it's my firm belief as she got it all along o' twist - ing round her head to put her ear to the key-holes, to listen ef she could hear anything 'bout her young Mistess, when Marse and Mistess was 'lone togedder. But, she nebber heard nuffin. I knows it. 'Cause ef she had she'd a sure to a told us. 'Cause why? you axes ag'in. Why; 'cause she is a leaky wessel, and can!t keep nuffin in. Which is de reason why I knows as Marse and Mis' nebber talks ob Miss Ivy--no, not eben when dey is :lone togedder. Now, i Marse Able, scuse me for talkin' to you so long; but you I know how it is yerseff. What you tiriks 'bout, dat you talks'bout." "I know, Adam. 'Out of the abundance of the heart, ' the mouth speaketh.'" , "Now, Marse Able, I's here to 'ceive-your orders, sir." "Well, Adam, I would like to have- Oh, dear me, all this is very dreadful. It' seems scarcely right to in- trude on the family, or to give one selfish thought to our r own interests," murmured Mr. Lytton, -breaking off from ,: his intended orders. "Hy I What you talkin' 'bout, Marse Able? De worl' got to go 'long, ef de hebbens falls, an't it? Which I mean to say as de pot's got to bile, let alone who runs away or who stays home. Which Marse and Mis' hab got to 'tend to dere business and entertain sich trabellers as come 'long, whedder or no. So, Marse Able, gib me your orders, sar." I "My orders are simple enough. Just send some one to the wharf to bring up the trunks and carpet bags." "I'll send down my son Wash. Here, you Wash?" cried the negro, calling a dusky youth who was seated on the ground mending nets. page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. And then we- shall want dinner, and afterward the carriage to take us home." "Lor', Marse!" said the dld man, " you can hab de din- ner all right 'nough. But as for de carridge- Well, you could hab dat 'too, only dere an't no horse to draw it. Marse -Fred he done gone 'way on de horse, and dere an't no knowin' when he gwine to be back. Wash," he added, addressing his son, who had just run up to the spot, " you get- de big wheelbarrow and go down to de wharf, and wheel up de gentleman and lady's baggage. You hear me good now, don't yer?" "Yes, daddy," answered the lad, running off to obey. o The old negro led the travellers up to the house, through the long piazza, and into a large, airy, barely furnished par- lor, where he invited them to be seated, while he went to inform his mistress of their arrival. "This ought to be a very pleasant, cheerful place, grand- pa," said Laura, as she walked from front to back of the long parlor--"a very cheerful, pleasant place indeed Sun- ny, breezy, with the sea on one side and the woods on the other. But somehow or other, I find it very gloomy and depressing. What makes it seem so?" "I don't know, my child. I feel the influence also, but without being able to account for it," answered Mr. Lytton. At this moment the door opened, and a lady of great beauty slowly advanced into the room. She was taller than the usual height of women, and very perfectly proportioned, with a carriage at once stately and graceful. Her features were of classic regularity. Her complexion was very fair and clear, yet her eyes, eyebrows and hair were jet-black. She, wore a black silk dress, rather rusty, and neat white linen collar and cuffs. ' This was Mrs. Fanning, born Cavendish, the beautiful younger sister ot Governor Charles Cavendish. Ar WHTE PERCH P OINT. -61 She who, years before, had stooped from her own high estate to wed Fred Fanning, the wild, handsome son of the landlord of the White Perch Point Hotel, and who by that rashact had opened an impassable gulf between her- self and her proud family. She came slowly into the room, and as she drew near, Able Lytton noticed a look of profound melancholy, almost of despair, on her beautiful pale face. "Mr. Lytton I! Is this you? I had not expected- They did not tell me- Ah, Heave/l" she cried incoherently, and sank trembling uponthe nearest seat. Extremely surprised at the strange effect his presence seemed to have upon this lady, Able Lytton stood bowing and embarrassed. ' Mrs. Fanning recovered her composure with an effort. "Pardon me," she said; "pardon me, si;. You must think this emotion very singular; but in fact my nervgm. system has been severely tried of late, and--I did not pect to see you here." "Is this lady insane," inquired Able Lytton of himnelf. Then speaking soothingly to her, he said: "Pardon me, rather, Madam, if my arrival is untimely or inconvenient, and permit me to depart at once." "Depart? Where would you go at this hour, and with- out horses? There is no place that you could reach on foot before midnight. Besides, you have young people with you. You must remain where you are. - Your visit, I as- sure you, is neither unwelcome nor inconvenient. It is my nervous system that is out of order.. Pray do not mind it." ' Then turning toward Alden and Laura, she smiled, and said interrogatively: . "These young people?" "Are the children of my late unhappy son. I am taking page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. them to Lytton Hall, which is to be their home for the present," answered Able Lytton. ' And then he was again surprised and shocked to see the lady start, tremble and cover her eyes with her hands. In another moment, however, she controlled herself, smiled and nodded to the youth and maiden, and then rang a small hand bell that stood upon the table near her. A neat mulatto girl answered it, and stood courtesying in the door. "Show these two gentlemen to the large front chamber over this, and ithe young lady to the small hall chamber adjoining." Rosy, the mulatto girl, courtesied again and stood smilingly ready to attend the guests when they should please to move. The mistress of the house, with a grave bow, passed silently out of the room. "O, grandpa!" whispered Laura, as soon as the lady had gone-"Oh, grandpa! don't let us stay here. Let us go away- somewhere! anywhere!" "There is nowhere we can go to sleep, my dear, unless Mr. Fanning should return very soon with the horse, so that we could get home," replied Mr. Lytton. "Oh, grandpa, we could sleep in a negro's cabin. In a barn!-anywhere rather than here." "Don't talk nonsense, my child," said the old gentle. man, rising to follow his guide to the bedrooms. Up stairs the travellers found the same signs of poverty and neglect. The bedrooms, though clean, were very scan- tily and plainly furnished, and though there was. plenty of water, there was a very limited supply of soap and towels. When the travellers had refieshed themselves with a better wash than they had been able to indulge in on the ' ( ' " WHTE PERCH POINT. 63 schooner, Mr. Lytton came out of his room and rapped at Laura's door, and said: "Come, my love.. If you are ready, we will take a wl over to the light-house. There' is plenty of time to go there and return before bur dinner will be ready. And we have been Cribbed up in the schooner so long, that a walk will do us good. Don't you 'think so?" "Anything is better than staying here, grandpa. I know now what's the matter with the house. It is not really the house, but the lady! That. lady gives me the horrors, grandpa," said Laura, as she made her appearance in her black bombazine dress and black crape hat. They were next joined by Alden. "How empty this great barn of a house seems!" said Laura, as they all went down stairs and out upon the lawn without meeting a soul. They went down to the beach, and then along the beach toward the extremity of the point where the light- house stood. "And now," said old Able Lytton, "I wish to show you a real heroine of humble life. Look at that light-house. It:is kept and tended by a girl of eighteen." "A girl of eighteen!" echoed: both his, hearers. "Yes, my children, strange as it seems." "But would such a one be truisted with such a respon sible duty?" inquired-Alden. "She is, at all events. I will tell you how it happened. The light-house was kept for years--twenty, at least, J should think-by a man of the name of Taylor. He lived at the light-house cottage, with his wife ahis orphan niiece, Mabel. As the man grew infirm, the child used to ' help him with his duties. And as the years passed,grad- ually the whole onus of the duties passed from the,-failing old man to the growing young girl. At last Taylor 'died: page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. His widow petitioned to be left in charge of the light house. And having satisfactorily proved that she was ca pable of taking care of it, or rather that Mabel was, she re ceived the appointment." "And you say the girl does all the duties?" inquired Laura. "Since that time, which is over two years, Mabel hag done all the duties. And they are attended with more difficulty and danger than you would suppose. Look u1 at the light-house." "We see it." "Now look at the light-house cottage." "Yes." "They are some hundred yards apart. Yet every even ing at sunset, in all weathers, sick or well, that young gir goes and climbs to the top of that tower and lights the lamp. Every night, on all seasons of the year, in all stateE of the atmosphere, whether it be a bright moonlight o: starlight night in June, or whether it be a dark and stormy night in January, that young maiden goes alone at mid night to the top of that tower to feed and trim her lamp and every morning at sunrise, winter and summer, in fair orfoul weather, she goes the same road to put out her lamp. "A brave girl " said Alden. "A brave, bright, cheerful girl as one would wish to meet in a day's journey. Nor is,her hard duty at the light house all she has to do. She does the whole work of the cottage for herself and her aged relative, and keeps herself and home beautifully neat and clean." "I should like to know her," said Laura musingly. "You shall know hw, my love. We will call at the cottage and rest, and wat until sunset, when we may g with her to the light-house and see her light her lamp," sai( the old gentleman kindly. . I CHAPTER VII. THE LIGHT-HOUSE LASS.- 1HEY now left the stunted copse wood that bordered 1 the -shore below the hotel, and- came upon the long sandy point where neither tree nor shrub was to be- seen, only the glare of sunshine upon the barren shore and blue sea, and the tall white tower of the light-house, and. the long, low cottage of the keeper. I X The cottage was of one story, with a steep roof. It was surrounded by a piazza, and inclosed within a fence. And house, piazza and fence were whitewashed. Neither vine nor flower grew in the barren lot. The only relief to the; eye from the glare of light was to be found in the dark green color of the wmindow-shutters. A little white gate admitted the visitors to a narrow gravel walk that led up to the house, whpre, under the i shade of the piazza, sat a neatly dressed old lady, knitting. She glanced keenly through her spectacles at the visitors, and then arose quickly to welcome them, oxclaiming gladly .: ' Dear heart, Mr. Lyttoui is it you? The sight of yon would pure blindness. Sit you down here where we get the breeze. It is cooler here than in the house. And . dear me! these young people. are never yours;?" They are my grandchildren, ma'am. Alden and i:- " this is Mrs. Tayldr, the keeper of the Perchi.:^ house, of whom you have heard me speak,' Isai i - as he seated himself upon the plain bench. of'te pHa^ 4 (65) ' page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. The youth and maiden smiled and came up to the old lady, who shook hands with them kindly, and said : "Yes, the keeper, my young gentleman and lady, but not the tender. Mab does all the work," explained Mrs. Taylor, as she pointed to seats for her young visitors. "Where is Mabel?" inquired Mr. Lytton. "Just this moment gone in to get her hat and key to / go over to the light-house." / At that moment the door opened, and Mabel came odd. Alden and Laura had expected to see a fine, tall, strong '-well, an able-bodied girl; that is--about the word. And now they saw a delicate, slender little fairy, with a snow-white complexion, large clear light-blue eyes, and flying hair so fair that its hue was between silvery and golden. This fairy was clad in a light-blue gingham dress, with a white muslin apron a white straw hat. She smiled when she saw visitors, and then recog- nizing Mr. Lytton, she went up to him and offered her hand. "Ah! how do you do, my dear?" heartily exclaimed the old gentleman, cordially clasping her hand. "And here are my grandchildren come to call on you. Laura i and Alden, this is Miss Mabel." She shook' hands with her two young visitors, and then looking at their grandfather, smiled and- pointed significant- ly to the low-descending sun. "'Ahl I see I Yes, your duty is imperative. You must go and light---your lamp, and as the sun sinks below the horizon the flame must rise above the tower. So go on, my dear; and if you will permit us, I and my young folks ! Will go with you." "Certainly, I shall be really glad to have you go. d Only I should tell you in honesty, that the light-house, like j some other things, is sean better distant than near, and * I THE LIGEHT-HOUS'E LASS. 67 better without than within. But come," she said, leading the way, with a smile. : They went out of the little gate, and walked through the deep sand out to the extreme end of: the point, where the light-house lifted its slim white tower to the sky. Mabel was right. It was beautiful to behold. from-the outside, but it was dingy, smoky and greasy within. They wound up a narrow spiral staircase of some hun- dred steps that took them slowly to the top floor, from which a movable ladder- arose to the lantern. Mabel went up this ladder alone, and- filled, trimmed and lighted her lamp. The others stood below at its foot, and watched her. In a moment the light streamed up from the top of the tower. And then Mabel closed the door of her,lantern, and came down., "And you come in all weathers, morning, evening and midnight, to tend this lamp!" said the old gentleman, when they found themselves at the foot of the tower again. "Yes, sir; it is my business," answered Mabel. "But, my child, are you not afraid to come here-alone, especially at 'midnight?" he inquired, as they walked on toward the cottage. Mabel opened her blue eyes wide with surprise, and simply echoed the word: "Afraid?" "Yes, especially at midnight, and more especially in dark, stormy winter weather?" "Why, no, sir, certainly not.. Why ever should Ibe afraid?" inquired the girl. , "Because you are but a slight youing, creature, and the way to the tower by night is dark and lonely, and the I tower itself is very dismal, especially at, midnight." i page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 A BEAUTIFUL FIE:ND. "I know; but why should that make me afraid?" in- quired the young heroine. "Whe-ew- I'm sure I don't know, if you don't; but then fear is like jealousy: fear is not ever fearful for a 3- cause, but 'fearful that it is fearful!" Mabel's soft silvery laughter broke upon the air like a bird's carol. "That reminds me of auntie," she said. "Auntie does not like to be left alone at midnight, when I go to feed the lamp. She always tells me to hurry back like a good girl, and adds, 'Not that I'm afraid to stay here alone, Mab. I'm not afraid of anything. I'm only afraid of being fright- ened!' The two young people laughed at this "bull," and had scarcely time to compose their features to decent gravity when they reached the cottage gate. Auntie whom they had been laughing at, was standing at the gate ready to receive 'them. She invited them to come in and stay to 'tea; but Mr. Lytton excused himself and his young people, and they took leave of the old lady and the brave girl, and turned their steps toward the hotel. CHAPTER VIII. THE LANDLORD'S RETURN. HAS your master returned with the horse?" in- quired Mr. Lytton, of a colored boy whom he met in the fiont yard. "No, sir, he haven't. We dem dunno what de name o' sense keep Marse Freddy 'way so long. He an't use to stayin' way so long, 'deed he an't," replied the boy. THE LANDLORD;S RE TURN. 69 Mr. Lytton and his young party went on to the house, and found their dinner awaiting them. After dinner they sat out on the piazza watching the moonlit sea, until quite a late hour. Then they separated and retired for the night. Laura, in her little room, soon fell asleep. So did Al- den, who had a bed in his grandfather's spacious chamber. But as for old Mr. Lytton himself, he could not sleep well. A strange restlessness and depression possessed him. If he fell into a fitful slumber, he soon -awoke with a start. and with a strange sense of pain and peril. So he con- tinued all night. Near morning he heard the sound of horses' feet gal- loping up to the door, followed by loud knocking, and by the hurrying footsteps of the awakened servants, the opening of the door, and the voice of the master as he entered. "Fanning has come in at last. I am glad of it. I shall now be able to take my young people home early this morning," said Mr. Lytton to himself, as he turned over and once more tried to sleep. He was just sinking off into unconsciousness when the sound of voices in the next room fully aroused him. His own bed was against the partition wall between the two rooms, so that he could hear quite distinctly. , "- Who did you say had come?" asked the vowje of the man'Fanning. "Old Mr. Lytton and his two grandchildren," answered the voice of the wife. "Good Heaven" This exclamation was uttered in a tone of dismay, almost of horror. And then the voices sank to low painfiul murmurs, that were quite inaudible until that of the mn hrnlm fvlp+.16 -auT r .:16 Ac^ :y=+nrn.4 page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "I cannot see them I I cannot see them I Why in the name of perdition are they here at all?" "Fred, it could not be helped. They landed from a schooner, and walked up to the house. Rose, who did not know them, came and told me guests had come. In our circumstances customers are not to be neglected. I went down into the parlor to see them. Judge my horror when I met the old man and his grandchildren?" moaned the woman. "I wish you had not taken them in at all." "They were already in." "Then I wish you had sent them away." "Mypoor dear, how could I? They were indeed most anxious to continue their journey, but there was no convey- ance.' They were forced to stay here, and I to keep them." "I will not see them i I will not see them!" groaned the man. And then again their voices sank out of hearing. Able Lytton was much astonished by what he had in- voluntarily overheard. That they should both bp deeply grieved and distracted by the fate worse than that of death that had befallen their young only daughter, he could easi- ly understand; but what'had he or his grandson and daugh- ter to do with that, that their presence in the house should produce a panic?" It was quite in vain even to'try to comprehend the cause. While perplexing himself over the question, he fell asleep; and having waked and watched so long that night, he'now slept so soundly that it was broad day before he awoke. - He got up and opened the front window, and looked ,out upon the broad expanse of water before him, and upon the distant point, with its light-house. THE LANDLORD'S RETURN. 71 On the lawn before the window he saw Laura and Alden walking and talking together. He tapped upon the window-pane and beckoned Alden to come up. And when the boy came into the room, he said: "You were asleep when I arose, sir; so I dressed my- self and went down very softly, s6 as not to awaken you." "Good lid, you were right.'- But now we must get away from here this morning, as soon as possible," said the old man gravely. "Oh, yes, sir I! It is a very beautiful place indeed, and would be a very delightful one if there were only pleasant people living on it. But oh, my goodness! if the mistress of the house is a handsome ogress, the master is a horridly unhandsome ogre,'" said the youth. "He didn't use to be," muttered Mr. Lytton, reflecting upon the night's strange conversation that he had overheard. "He is now, you bet." "You have seen him, then?" "I just have. I was walking round the house, 'pros- pecting,' and- I come upon him in the barn-yard. Oh, my graciousl Didn't he glare at me as if he would like to 'have my marrow to butter his bread,' only he didn't dare to touch me. And then he turned off short, and walked as fast as he could in another direction." "He must have changed greatly since I saw him last. Now, Alden, while I am dressing I wish you to go down and say that we would like breakfast immediately, and also like to have the carriage at the door, that we may com- mence our journey as soon as breakfast is over. Go now,z my boy. Ah, yes," he continued, after Alden had left-the! room, "Fred Fanning must have changed greatly from the jolly dog I once knew' him to be. And perhaps the loss of his daughter may have deranged his mind. Heaven knows it may well have done so." page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 ! A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. So saying, Able Lytton began to dress himself. As soon as he was ready he went, down stairs, where, in the front hall, he met a negro lad who told him that breakfast was on the table. He went into the breakfast room, where he found his young people already awaiting him. There was neither the host nor the hostess present to receive them. They sat down to the table. And Rose, the pretty mulatto girl, waited on them. The breakfast in itself was excellent, but a nameless gloom hung over the place that somewhat spoiled the ap- petite of the old man. Nothing but repletion could ever affect that of the young people, who were at the age to lose their appetites only "presently after dinner." When their morning meal was over, they went up stairs to get ready for their journey. On coming down again they found the carriage at the door, with their luggage strapped on behind. But neither host nor hostess were there to see them off. Only the coachman was in his seat, and a negro lad was in attendance. :' ,ere, you sir!" said Able Lytton, calling to the lad. "'hat'is your:name, sir?" "Taters, Marster. Don't you 'member me?" inquired the boy. 'Able Lytton burst out laughing. "Oh, yes, I know you," he said., "You are Mithridates. How do you do?"And he shook hands with the boy. Then turning to his young folks,.he said, still laughing: "This youth is a godson of mine. I stood sponsor for him when I was here some years ago. I gave him a fine name-Mith-ri-da-tes-and lo after their manner, they have curtailed it and corrupted it until it has come to- 'Tatersl' Well, Taters, I have been looking all over the THE LANDLORD'S REtURN. 73 house for your master or your mistress, and I can find neither. I want to pay my bill before I leave. Go get it." If you please, marster, my mistess told me to tell you, if you axed for it, as how there wasn't no bill ag'in yer." "to bill nonsense! This is a hotel. Where is your master?" . "In the bar-room, sir." "No, he isn't. I was in there looking for him." "I know he wasn't then, sir, but he's just gone in. You can see him through the windy, if you look." Able Lytton lifted his eyes and saw Fred Fanning standing before .the counter, with his back turned toward the window. He immediately went into the house, and through a side door into the bar-room, and clapping the landlord on the back, exclaimed heartily: "Hallo! my fine fellow; is this the way you treat an old friend?" Fanning started as if he had been shot through the heart, and glared into the face of Able Lytton, with terror and amazement in every feature of his own. Good Heaven, man! what is the matter with you?" exclaimed Mr. Lytton, gazing with surprise and grief upon the fearfully changed aspect of his old acquaintance, whom he remembered as the heartiest and me rriest young land- lord in the whole country side. Now the once stout form was wasted to a skeleton; the fair, ruddy complexion was blanched to marble; the laughing blue eyes were wide open, and glaring as with the fire of insanity. "Yes, the loss of his daughter has certainly turned his head, though why his insanity should take the particular form of horror of me is more than I can tell," thought Able Lytton, and then he repeated his question more kindly ; "Why, Fanning, what ails you, man?" page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "H-I thought you had gone!" faltered the landlord. "Gone? I'm not in the habit of going without paying my score. Come, collect your senses, and-collect your bill. I am here to pay it." "I--I have no bill against you. I cannot take money of you." "Stuff and nonsense! You always did, you know. There l" said Mr. Lytton, laying down a ten-dollar bill. "That must be something like the amount. If it's over, give the surplus to the servants; if it's under, let me know the deficiency at your leisure. Good-bye. Give my re. spects to madam." And Able Lytton fi'ankly held out his hand. But the unhappy man shrank from it, muttering hastily: "I cannot ouch your hand! I cannot touch your mon- eyl Take it up, and go." And he pointed frowningly to the note. "Madl mad as a March hare!" said Able Lytton, and leaving the note lying upon the counter, he walked out of the house. "Has your master been long in this condition?" he asked abruptly of the lad, who was still in attendance near the carriage. "Sar?" inquired the boy, puzzled. "Has your master been crazy long?" "Lor', no, sar! Marse Fred an't crazy." "What's the matter with him, then?" "Nuffn an't de matter wid him, let alone he's wrong in his head all along o' a frettin' arter Miss Ivy," answered the boy opening his eyes. s "Oh!" muttered Mr. Lytton, as he stepped into the carriage. "Take the Wendover road," he called to the coachman, as he closed the door. THE LANDLORD'S RETURN. 75 The man turned his horses' heads from the water view, and drove around the house to the back of the premises and through a back gate and out into a private road lead- ing to the Perch Point and Wendover Turnpike. This road led duly from the coast to the interior of the country, passing for the finst dozen miles through a thick wood now verdant with the freshness of early summer. A drive of four hours through this sylvar scenery brought them to the village of Wendover, on Red'Rock River, at the Red Rock Pass. It was noon when they drew up at the "Reindeer," the principal hotel of the little town. "I think we will stop here to lunch and rest before going further. So you may put up your horses, Cyrus, and take your ease," said Mr. Lytton, as he alighted from the carriage, followed by Alden and Laura. Mr. Lytton was about as well known at the "Reindeer" as the landlord himself. So he had no sooner entered the parlor with his young people than mine host came bustling in to welcome him, exclaiming, as he held out his hand: "Ah, ha! So you're back again! How do you do? How do you do? Hope you mean to stop with us a while." "We wish to get home this evening. I shall send back Fanning's carriage from this point, and take one with fresh horses from you to convey us on to the Lodge, thank you," said Mr. Lytton, cordially grasping and shaking the offered hand of his host. "Oh, but you will stay and dine? We have some of the finest trout ever drawn from a mountain brook," ex- claimed the landlord. And under other conditions I should enjoy them much. But I want to get home to-night. We will, however, have page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. some luncheon and a bottle of wine. And I hope you will join me over the wine," said Mr.) Lytton. "That will I, with pleasure. For I have lots of news to hear, no doubt, and also some to tell." "Ah!" smiled the old gentleman a little sarcastically-, "News to tell!-as Ito whose cow has calved, whose pig has died, and so forth." "Nothing of the sort to tell, though plenty of the sort has happened. No; but really the village has had a. sen- sation.". "You don't say so. Some woman has twins?" "No, I sayl Let me order your luncheon, and then I'll come back and tell you all about it," said the landlord, as he hurried out of the parlor. "The greatest gossip in the Commonwealth, my dears, is our old Hezzy' Greenfield. Hezekiah his name is," ex- plained Mr. Lytton, In a few minutes a waiter entered and set the table for luncheon, and spread upon it bread, butter and cheese, cold meats, pastry, fruit and cakes, with a pitcher of milk and a bottle of light wine. "Now sit down, Greenfield; sit down and join us. I want you to begin at once, and tell us what is the nature of the village sensation," said Mr. Lytton cordially. ,t "All right," said Greenfield. "Now prepare to be abtonished." OCHAPTER IX, THE LANDLORDS BTORY. - V ESTERDAY morning," said Hezekiah Greenfield, 1 , our little community was somewhat startled by the sudden arrival of Governor Clavendish's travelling car- riage, with the news that it, had been sent to meet his Ex- cellency, who had telegraphed to his people at Blue Cliff Hall that he would reach Wendover by the afternoon train." "Not much in that to startle any community, I think," said Mr. Lytton smiling. "No; but when the Governor telegraphs suddenly that he is coming down, some five or six weeks: before his usual time, to a Iittle hamlet like ours, where every event out:of routine is a subject of wonder, you wil- understand it. Well, he and his family came on the train by which he: was expected, and after dining here, got into the travelling car- riage, and went home to Cliff Hall." "Nothing very surprising in that." ' No; that was only the beginning. Now listen! Re- member, the Governor passed through here, on his way home, yesterday afternoon." "Yes." "And of course he had gone home tow stay until the meeting of the Legislature should call him to town -again i And one would judge too, that he would: be pretty tired of his journey, and willing to rest a bit.' Nevertheless at, (77) i page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. half past eleven o'clock last night, we were all roused up out of our beds by the arrival of Governor Cavendish, to meet the midnight train to the,city." "Indeed." "There! I knew I should surprise you at last. Yes, indeed. First he went to the telegraph office. Of course the operators had gone; but he left in the night box a sealed telegram, to be dispatched at the earliest possible moment in the morning. Nobody on earth knew what was in the telegram, or where it was to be sent, except the operator, and he won't tell. All the satisfaction he gives a body is, that maybe we may know something more about it when the evening's mail comes down from the city." "Some political move, I suppose," said old Mr. Lytton, who was fast losing his interest in the case. "Well, if it was a political move, llI tell you what, it was as much as a life was worth. At least one would judge as much by the looks of Governor Cavendish. I tell you that when he came in here to wait for the train, after leav- ing the sealed telegram, he looked as white as a sheet. He did nothing but walk the floor with his hands behind his back until the train came. Then he went up by it. And I was as much relieved by his departure as if he had been the ghost that he looked," said the landlord, nodding with emphasis. "I see nothing in all this but some political crisis. Politics make the life of a public man like Governor Cavendish." "If you had seen his face, you would have thought it was something more than politics that troubled him," said Greenfield. Never guessing that he had the slightest interest at stake in the troubles of Governor Cavendish, the old THE LANDLORD'S STORY. 79, gentleman turned the conversation by saying to his grand son: "Alden, my boy, while we wait here, I wish you would step over to the post-office--it is just across the street- and inquire if there are any letters or papers for me. You would never believe it, but this is the nearest post-office to Lytton Lodge, my lad. And you'll think yourself out of the world, when you get so far away from-from any- where." l Alden laughed, said he thought he could stand it, took up his hat and went his errand. He soon came back, bringing letters and papers. Mr. Lytton looked over his letters first. Upon one of them he paused in deep thought. Then raising his head, ne said to the landlord: "Mr. Greenfield, I think we shall have -toremain here to-night, if you can accommodate us." "Why, of course I can.' Why not?" "This letter that I hold in my hands is from my factor in Baltimore. It is dated two days ago, but in it he prom- ises to write to me the next day-that was yesterday. I I shall wait here to get his letter, which . will probably come to-morrow morning. That will save a day, as I can answer jLtnd mail the letter before we go home." "All right. I am sure I am very glad to have you," said the landlord, who immediately left the parlor to order rooms prepared for his new guests. The evening train came in and brought the city's morn.- ing papers. And these papers were diligently searched by the villagers for some item that might explain the strange move of their Governor. But though they found rather more than usual of sensational, political-and police hnews, they found nothing particularly connected with the Gover- nor, except perhaps the article reminding the public of , .'. page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 . A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. what they were not likely to forget-that his Excellency having refused to commute the sentence of Victor Hart- man, the condemned man would suffer the extreme penalty of the law that day at noon. Mr. Lytton read that item with a sigh of sorrow given to the memory of his murdered son, and of pity and for- giveness for the doomed murderer. "Heaven have mercy upon him!" CHAPTER X. A TRTUlEGRA., By noon to-day Thou must be made immortal.--BoN. HS last hour had come. All the visitors that business or curiosity had brought to his cell that fatal morn- ing had gone--some to secure stands near the scaffold, which had been erected in the prison yard, where the ex- ecution was to take place. Victor Hartman was alone with ]u spiritual guide. He "had requested to be taken out soon gfter eleven o'clock, as he said he had something he wished to say to the people before he should die. It was now a few minutes after eleven, and he was in momentary expectation of the Sheriff and his officers. "Is there any last word you have to say to me in private, Hartman, before they come for you? Is there any commission you can give me to do for you?" kindly in- quired the, Rev. Mr. Lyle, as he sat beside the prisoner on the edge of the cot bedstead. "No, sir; you have done all you could for my soul by A TELEGRAM. 81 your instructions and prayers; and you have done an you, could for my poor body by- giving me a clean shirt and a decent suit of clothes to die in. I thank you, sir. I would bless you, if the blessing of such a poor wretch as I could serve you. You will go out with me, and see the last of me?" "Yes, of course I I promised that. Bedides, it is our duty, and we always do it. Here they come," said Mr. Lyle, as a little procession of four men approached the cell door. One of them opened it, and all entered. The Sheriff, a grave, middle-aged man, held a parch- ment in his hand, and addressed the prisoner, saying: "Victor Hartman, it is my painful duty to read your death warrant to you. Are y6u ready to hear it?" "Yes, sir," meekly replied the doomed boy. The Sheriff unrolled the parchment, and read the death warrant through to its signature -"Charles Cavendish, Governor of-- ." "Now, Hartman, you see what we have to do," said the Sheriff. "Yes, sir," assented the prisoner. '(And I am ready." The sheriff made a sign to two of the officers who ac- companied him, and they went and took the handcufi off the condemned. And then they would have taken his arms to lead him forth to execution between them. But the Rev. Mr. Lyle said: "Let me walk with him. He will be perfectly secure." "The Sheriff assented with a silent bow. And Mr. Lyle drew the boy's arm within his own. And the mournful little procession was formed-the Sheriff of the county and the Warden of the prison walk- ing first, the prisoner attended by the clergyman next, and two officers of the prison behind. As they emerged from the building into the yard. Vie. 5 page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. tor JHartman raised his despairing eyes to look for the last time out upon the world from which he was labout to be cast forth in ignominy. The tender bright blue sky of May -was over all. A thin, silvery white cloud passing before the face of the sun softened the splendor of his rays. The trees upon the side- walks and in the city gardens wore their freshest and ten- dedest green foliage. And among their branches the birds were singing blithely, filling all the sunny air with raptur- ous music. It seemed hard to die, in any way, upon a day like this. But to die as he was doomed to die! A shud- der passed through his slight frame, and gave the report- ers, who stood with pencil and note-book in hand, an item to the effect that the prisoner seemed much agitated when he was led, ut. He dropped his glance from the blue skies and verdant trees, and saw under them and around himself a fearful contrast. The scaffold was erected in the corner of the prison back-yard, with a temporary .railing around its foot, guard- ed by a detachment of policemen. The yard itself was half filled with a crowd of well-dressed men, invited to be spectators of the " private" execution. The stone fence of the yard, the tops of the sheds, the roofs of the houses and the windows of their upper stories were all laden and crowded with people, and more than ten thousand pairs of eyes were eagerly fixed upon the prisoner. Victor Hartman shuddered and dropped his eyes again. "Do not look upon them, my poor boy. Do not think of them. Think of the Redeemer's words: ' Verily, I say unto you, this day-' Y6u know the rest. Repeat them to yourself, Hartman," whispered Mr. Lyle, as they ap- proached the foot of the scaffold stairs. The Sheriff and the Warden went went up first. The A TELEGRAM. o 83 clergyman and the condemned man followed. And the the two Sheriff's officers brought up the rear. When the six men stood upon the platform with the prisoner in the midst, the latter turned to the Sheriff and inquired if he might then be permitted to speak to the people. The Sheriff assented. And the condemned boy step- ped forward, and once more looked around upon the multitude of faces turned upon him: some from the ground below and around the scaffold, some from the prison grat- ings, some from the edge of the yard wall, some from the tops of sheds, and the roofs and windows of dwel- ling houses. There were many brutal, many curious, but there were also some compassionate faces among them, for these lat- ter mentioned could not look upon the dying boy with his pale emaciated face, and wild, mournful eyes, without pity. He noticed this, and after having been in doubt how to presume to call the assembled people, he took courage, and addressed them as " friends." "My friends," he began, "I have something to say to you; but not much that will try your patience. "I know that I have incurred the death penalty, and that I must die. I know my doom is just, for my crime, was very great-so great that even if I were permitted to live I could never enjoy a moment's peace of -mind, and life would be a heavier doom than death. When I havei waked up in the dark, still watches of the night and re- membered my crime, my soul has suddenly sunk into a hell of horror and despair not to be described by me, never to be understood, I hope, by you. Yes, friends, it has been; and would still be so with me. It does not need the death of the body to plunge the soul in hell. One great crime will do that,- while the body still lives on. page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "But. Nature never made me for a murderer-never meant that I should be one. "In a moment of madness-the double madness of rage and drink-I rose up and struck down my foe. The mo- ment before I struck I had not thought of striking at all. The moment I struck I did not think of killing. The kill- ing was unintentional, almost accidental Nevertheless it was the result of the blow I struck in my blind fury. And the law says I must die for the death. And the law is just. "But I am not resigned to my doom; no, not even now that I stand on the very brink of eternity. I am not re- signed to die; not that I fear death, for well I know that there is pardon through the Redeemer even for such a wretch as I. But I long with an inexpressible longing to live-not that I love life. I have told you what a burden it has been and would be to me. But I long to live even this painful life, because I would not die and leave behind me nothing, O friends, but the record of vice' and crime, the life of aofool, O people, ending in the death of a felon! I would live to blot it all out! I would with the future try to redeem the past. "I am scarcely twenty years of age. If I could be per- mitted to live out man's natural term of life of threescore years and ten-if I could be permitted to live to be seven- ty years of age, I would-yes, Heaven knows I would!- atone by fifty years of good endeavor for the twenty wasted years of vice and folly." Here he was interrupted by a voice in the crowd cry- ing out: "Not twenty years of vice and folly! You were scarce- ly a criminal at ten years of age, poor fellow!" "Well, let that pass. I did evil early enough in my life, Heaven knows. And for the evil that I have done, well do I know that I never can atone to the Almighty. A TELEGRAM. 85 Only the Redeemer can do that for me. But I might atone to man, to society, and, most of all, to the boy and girl my rash hand has made fatherless. Friends, I have done. But I am not resigned." The condemned man stepped back. The clergyman said: "Let us pray.". And all stood with uncovered heads while the short and fervent prayer was offered up. Then the clergyman shook hands with Hartman, and commending him to the mercy of Heaven, took leave of him, and left the platform. At a sign from the Sheriff, two officers -came forward to pinion the prisoner. And now many that had looked- on the proceedings hp to this point with hard eyes, turned away their heads. Some even ran in at the open doors of the prison to get out of the way of witnessing the execution. These ran against an officer of the jail who was hurry- ing through from the front or street door of the building to the back door leading into the yard, where the execution was proceeding to its final act. He was very much excited, and bursting through the opposing crowd, he waved a white cloth to attract instant attention, and shouted: "Stop! stop!-for the Lord's sake, stop!" And breathless with excitement, he ran up the stairs of the scaffold, and thrust a folded paper into the hands of the Sheriff. That officer made a sign to his assistants to stay pro- ceedings, while he opened and read the paper. Her stared at it for a few moments in silent surprise,..while the assem- bled spectators on their part stared at him in anxious ex- pectation. Then he raised his voice, and said: 3 S page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 A BEAUTIFUL '-FIEND. "The condemned man is respited for one week, by order of the Governor." l There was a short pause, and then a loud and jo ous cheer arose from the crowd. They had come to see the spectacle of Victor Hartman's execution with anticipation of satisfaction;- but to the credit of their human nature be it written, they heard of his respite with rejoicing. CHAPTER XI. RESTORED TO LIFE. ( ( THE prisoner has fainted dead away, sir," said one of the Sheriffs officers, as he supported the almost lifeless form of the reprieved criminal. The Sheriff turned around to examine the subject of these words. "The slqock has been too much for the poor fellow. He was prepared for immediate death, not for a reprieve," he said. "This reprieve at this moment is almost cruel unless followed up with a commutation of his sentence," sighed the clergyman, as he rubbed the pulseless hands of the un- conscious man. "Smith and Martin, lift him between you and bear him back to the cell," said the Sheriff, addressing his two officers. They raised the light form -of the poor wretch, and care- fully carried him down from the scaffold, and through the cheering crowd that filled the prison yard, and so conveyed him back to his cell and laid him on his cot bedstead. And there he lay, more dead than alive, having suffered all the bitterness of death without attaining its repose. ,. . , S4 RESTORED TO LIFE.' 87 He was slowly returning to consciousness and to pain. He opened his eyes and rolled them around the walls of his cell with a look of dull surprise. The Rev. Mr. Lyle bent over him, laid a hand upon his forehead, tried to catch the gaze of his wandering eyes and gently spoke: "Hartman, my poor boy, how is it with you?" "I don't know. I thought it was all over with me,"-' slowly answered the young prisoner, with the same look of dull surprise. "Do you know where you are, Hartman?" "I ought to, but I'm not sure. I thought it was all over with me. Why isn't it?"murmured the prisoner con- fusedly, as he passed his hand over his eyes, and then lifted them wildly to the face of his reverend fi'iend. "Hartman, don't you know that you were reprieved on the scaffold?" inquired the clergyman, who began to fear for the reason of the sufferer. "Reprieved?-I thought I was--I thought something else had happened. Reprieved, you say?" inquired the prisoner, as an expression of strangely -blended joy, pain and perplexity convulsed his pallid features. "Yes, Hartman. -Almost at the last moment, when you were about to die, you were reprieved, and you fainted. Don't you riemember?" "Yes, now I do. Reprieved? Oh, Heaven!" exclaimed the poor wretch, bursting into tears and sobbing as if his heart would break. "This is cruel, unless this reprieve is to be followed up by a commutation of the sentence," muttered the clergy- man, apart to the Sheriff. . ( "It probably will end in a commutation," replied that officer. Hartman, with closed eyes and folded hands, was evi- r / - -... page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. dently returning thanks for his respite from death. Soon he raised those wild, dark orbs to the face of the Sheriff, and asked:' "Who, sir, besides the Lord, have I to thank for this undeserved mercy?" "I do not know, Hartmin, unless it be the Governor himself." "The Governor would never of himself have granted me a respite." "He may have been moved by the letters of your anon- ymous advocate, suggested Mr. Lyle. "He was said to have been moved by them indeed, but only to scorn and anger. No; it could not have been the influence of those letters that gained my respite." "Hartman," inquired the Sheriff, "have you any knowl- edge of the writer of those letters?" "Sir," replied the prisoner solemnly, "I tell you now, what I told Mr. Lyle even when death was staring me in the face, that I not only have no knowledge, but that I have not the least suspicion of who the writer of those letters can possibly be." "It is very strange." "And why any man should persist in writing and de- claring that I did not kill Mr. Lytton, when I know per- fectly well and confess perfectly freelyr that I did kill him -though unintentionally-I cannot imagine," added Hart- man, with a look of profound perplexity. "Nor can I. It is a mystery that time only can elucidate, if even time can do it," mused the clergyman reflectively. "And taken in connection with the Governor's sus- pected action in granting this respite at the last moment, the mystery grows deeper," muttered the Sheriff. These last words between the two gentlemen were spoken in a low tone, and somewhat apart from the prisoner. J RESTORED TO LIFE. 89 And they were now interrupted by the opening of the cell door and the appearance of the turnkey, who put a letter in the hands of the Sheriff. The latter -opened and read the missive, and then left the cell, signing for the clergyman to follow him. Mr. Lyle paused only long enough to shake hands with the prisoner and take leave of him, with the promise to re- turn the next day. And then he joined the Sheriff, whom he found walking up and down the hall with the open let- ter in his hand. "Mr. Lyle, you must know thatlthe telegram that res- pited the prisoner and surprised us so much this morning, came from Wendover, the nearest telegraph station to Blue Cliffs,.the country seat of the Governor." "Yes." "Well, this note informs me that the Governor has just arrived in town, and has sent- for me to meet him imme- diately at the Executive mansion. I think this summons is connected with Victor Hartman's fate, and that I may have news to tell you on my return. I only waited to say this to you. And now I am going right off." "I truly hope it may be so. Without any of, that dan. gerous morbid sympathy with criminals that is much too prevalent in this age, I certainly feel deeply interested in this poor boy, and earnestly wish that his life might be spared for better things," said Mr, Lyle. "We cannot expect anything better than: a commutation of his sentence from death to perpetual imprisonment," re- plied the Sheriff. "Well,. even in a prison a repentant man may do much to redeem his past life," concluded the clergyman. And then the two gentlemen left the place together, the one to wait on the Governor at the Executive m-ansion and the other to return to his own house. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] CHAPTER XII. MORE MYSTERIES. / SHE crowd that had come to witness the execution of - Victor Hartman, and had gazed upon the pallid com- plexion, the emaciated form and the despairing eyes of the doomed boy, and had heard his pathetic self-accusation, cheered when the unexpected reprieve by telegram deliv- ered him from immediate death. But as they dispersed and spread the news of the res- pite through the city, they were met by murmurings of surprise and disapprobation. The general public had never looked upon the con- demned boy, and felt no pity for him. But they had heard or read all about his crime, and they thought he ought to have been punished with the utmost rigor of the law, and promptly too. The afternoon newspapers came out with leaders, and severely commented on the conduct of the Governor in granting this unsolicited respite, "Who had asked for it?" they inquired. "Not even the condemned boy himself. It was an ut- terly uncalled for interference with the course of the law, dangerous to the community, and cruel even, at that late hour, to the criminal." The Governor!s course in this matter was characterized as weak, frivolous, reckless. And it was said to be unfortu- nate that his term of office had but just -begun. But it was (90) t . ' MORE MYSTERIES. 91 prophesied that a magistrate so regardless of the laws he was bound to execute, need never hope to be reelected. These editorial leaders in the afternoon papers, so cen- sorious of the Governor's course, coming into the hands of the people, and,: being Pead by them, greatly fostered the general feeling of discontent. It was not only the respite of the condemned man that displeased the public mind, but the strong probability that this respite was only intended to prepare the way for a commutation of the sentence. And if this man's sentence should be commuted, life and property would no longer be safe, they argued; men would have-to go armed to protect themselves, if the law would no longer protect them from the dangerous classes-for imprisonment had no terrors in it to restrain criminals. - Through the murmuring city the Sheriff took his way to the Executive mansion, The house itself wore a deserted aspect. The window shutters were all closed, and dust had gathered thickly upon the portico. . The front door was opened to the visitor, not by the smart footman in livery that usually attended there, but by the red-headed and bare-footed boy, Tim Dooley, son of the widow who in the absence of theamily took care of the house. i "Where is the Governor?", inquired the Sheriff. "In's office. IlI show yer,'"-iswered the boy, closing and carefully locking the front door, and ther walking be- fore the visitor to lead him to the presence of the Governor. The Sheriff found Governor Cavendish in the large back room that opened upon the garden, and was used as. library, study and Executive chamber. The room was in much disorder--books, papers and maps loading the tables and chairs and strewed upon the page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] '92 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. floor, and thick dust covered everything. The room had not been set to rights after the family's departure for the country, and so was not prepared for the master's unex- pected return home. But in this " chamber of desolation " the most desolate looking object was the Governor himself. He sat in his dust-covered arm-chair, with his elbow resting upon his disordered table, and a general look of sorrow and self-neglect upon his face and person. IBs iron-gray hair was uncombed, his sallow face unwashed, his dress loose, sooty and travel-stained. The Sheriff looked at this chief magistrate of the State in astonishment and pain, for, as he afterward confided to a friend: "A more disreputable looking man for a respectable middle-aged gentleman and a State's Governor, I never had the ill-luck to meet." "Leave the room, boy, and close the door after you," were the first words of the Governor, addressed to the red- headed little "Mercury," When the lad had retired, and the two gentlemen found themselves alone, the Governor, whose manner was some- what distracted, pointed to a chair and said: "Pray sit down, Mr. Middleton; I sent for you on business." He had not greeted his visitor with the usual polite "good-morning," nor had he even stirred from his attitude of preoccupation and sorrow when he made this request. The Sheriff took a chair, dusted it off carefully with his pocket handkerchief, seated himself, and then said: "I hope I find your Excellency well this morning?" "Yes," said the Governor absently. And his visitor waited for him to explain the object for which he had summoned him. MORE MYSTERIES. 93 "I relieved you of a very painful duty this morning, Mr. Sheriff," at length said the Governor. "Yes, sir, and I was very happy to be so relieved," answered the Sheriff. "Yet I believe that my course has given very great dissatisfaction to the public mind. Is it not so? You have been out in the city and can tell me. Speak plainly." "Well, then, your Excellency, I regret very much to say that your clemency has given much more offence to the 4 community than such a simple act as the respite of a- con- demned criminal for one short week could possibly justify." "Yes; but you see, Mr. Middleton, that the condemned boy has no friends, while the murdered lawyer was about the most popular man in the city." "I know that, sir." "Consequently you see that even so much mercy, or rather so little mercy, as may be found in a week's respite from death, of Lytton's supposed murderer, would give great offence." Supposed murderer, your Excellency!" exclaimed the Sheriff, in surprise. "Supposed murderer," repeated the Governor emphati- cally. "How do we know that he is the real murderer? Granted that he confesses himself to be such. Men have before now confessed crimes that they never committed." "Your Excellency has been influenced by those anony- mous letters that have been written to you, insisting on the condemned man's innocence." "Not in the least degree. I quite despised those weak- devices. Yet I repeat to you that the greatest proof we have of Hartman's guilt is his own confession. And men have before now voluntarily confessed crimes they never committed. Read some of the last chapters in 'Russel on Crime,' It would open your eyes, I think. But enough of this. I come back to the subject of the great offence page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " ' A BEAUTIFUL' FIEND. the community have received at my act of this morning. I presume there was not an individual, with the exception of the reprieved man himself, who did not condemn my course." " "Pardon me, your Excellency. There were"some hum- ble individuals-the clergyman who attended Hartman, the officers of the prison, and myself among the number-who sincerely rejoiced in the respite of Hartman. Even the crowd assembled to see him executed heartily cheered at his reprieve, though many of the latter may have changed their minds after reading the afternoon's papers." "I think that quite likely. There was a great deal of vim in those leaders. However, I am grateful to the few who felt with me in this matter, especially as that unpopu- lar act is to be supplemented by a still more unpopular one: the respite is to be followed up by a--" The Governor paused, and looked wistfully at his visitor. "Commutation of his sentence?" added the latter, finish. ing the interrupted words. "By a full. pardon," continued -the speaker, looking straight in the face of his hearer. The sheriff stood-aghast. "Governor Cavendish, it will be the most unpopular act'of your whole administration!" he said. "It will be my political ruin; but it must be. done. It has cost me a severe struggle; but it must be done, and promptly 'too! So long as I hesitate to do this, I am un- worthy to hold office as Chief Magistrate oftthis State, for every hour that Victor Hartman remains incarcerated he suffers a gross and cruel injustice," said the Governor, with much emphasis. "Your Excellency's words astonish me beyond measure. Your Excellency must have received some information, unknown to others, and that urges you to these words and acts," answered the bewildered Sheriff. -MORE MYSTERIES. 95 The Governor did not reply to these words, but presently said, in continuation of his discourse: "The act of pardoning Hartman will bring political ruin on my head& That I have made up my mind to meet. But I fear it may bring disaster also on the head of the man I would save; for if he should be pardoned and released from, prison in the open day, in the present excited state of the public feeling, he would fall awictim to mob violence, and suffer some death more- cruel and protracted than hanging. It is about this that I wished to ;speak to you. The pardon is made out and signed. Here it is. But I do not wish- you to act upon it until night, nor to let it be publicly known until to-morrow morning.. Discharge the prisoner from custody to-night. And tell him 6f the state of the public feeling, and the danger he would, incur by remaining in the city; and advise him to quit it to- night, so as to be far away before to-morrow, when the fact of the pardon shall be publicly made known, and when, should he be found here, his person would be in imminent peril." And here the Governor placed a rolled parchment in the hands of the Sheriff, and arose from his seat and stood with his'hands on, the back of the chair, as if waiting for the departure of his visitor. Sheriff Middleton, in much surprise and perplexity of mind, received the document and took leave of the Governor. In the outer hall he found waiting the red-headed lad, Tim Dooley, who opened the front door for his exit, and afterward locked it carefully behind hip^ The Sheriff left the Executive mansion revolving strange thoughts in his mind. That Governor Cavendish, the least impulsive, the most self-controlled of men, should, 'without any -apparent cause, suddenly by telegram at the last moment, arrest the -execu- page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND, tion of Victor Hartman, and should then hurry lip to town by forced journeys, and without the shadow of a seeming reason, grant a full pardon to the condemned criminal, was strange enough. That he, the most ambitious of politicians, should do this, in the full conviction that it would be his political ruin, was stranger still. But that after all this, he, the most independent of all rulers, should, as it seemed, be afraid to protect the man he had saved, was the strangest of all I If he saw fit to pardon' Victor Hartman, and had the moral courage to do so in- the face of popular prejudice, could he not also have had the courage to protect the man he pardoned? If he foresaw a riot, could he not order out the militia to quell the riot? If Victor Hartman deserved a pardon, did he not also deserve protection? Why should he be pardoned, and then sent out by night to fly from the city before the fact of that pardon was made public? It was all an inexplicable mystery. "If any other man under the son had done this thing, except Mr. Cavendish, I should have lost confidence in him; but I cannot lose confidence in Charles Cavendish," said the Sheriff to himself, as he walked rapidly on toward the prison, Suddenly he thought of the minister who had attended Hartman during his long imprisonment, and he determined to call at his house and tell him, in confidence, of the un- expected and unxeplained action of the Governor, in grant- ing a fall pardon to Hartman. "It will all be known to-morrow, and the only motive for keeping the secret to-night is the safety of Hartman, and that safety cannot be endangered by imparting the se. cret to his friend and pastor, Mr. Lyle. Besides, Mr. Iyle A NIGHT PLOT. 97 would like to take leave of Hartman before the latter leaves, the city. And Hartman assuredly would like to take leave of Mr. Lyle before going." So reasoning, the Sheriff turned into the street leading to the minister's home. He reached the modest house, and rang the bell. The summons was answered by a neat parlor maid, who, in reply to Mr. Middleton's inquiries, said that Mr. Lyle had gone out to make sick calls, but that he would be home to his teqa. The Sheriff took a card from his case, and wrote upon it a request that the minister would meet him that evening, at seven o'clock, at the house of the Warden of the city prison. He gave this card to the parlor maid, with a strict in- junction that she should carefully deliver it into the hands of Mr. Lyle as soon as the latter should return home. And having received the little maid's faithful promise to do as he directed, he left the parsonage, and turned his steps toward the prison, where he soon arrived. OCHAPTER XI 11. A NIGHT PLOT. THEk were about to close the prison for the night. Any other visitor would have been turned away,Tbut the Sheriff was, of course, admitted at once. He asked for the Warden, and was shown to the office. "I am a late visitor, Mr. Caton, but the importance of my business is my excuse," said the Sheriff, as he entered 6b page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] '98 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. the presence of the Warden, who was seated at his desk, busily engaged with his account-books. The Warden arose, bowed politely, sat a chair for the Sheriff, and then stood, as if waiting for some communi- cation from the latter. "Read this, if you please, and tell me what you think of it," said Mr. Middleton, putting the pardon of Hartman into his hands. Mr. Caton unfolded and read the document, and then fixed his eyes upon the face of the Sheriff, and stared in blank astonishment. "Well?" said the Sheriff. "What do you think of that?" "I am perfectly amazed I Upon what possible pretext could this pardon have been granted?" "I do not know. I am quite as much in the dark as yourself." "But- you were with the Governor when this pardon was granted? -You received it from his own hands?" "Yes, and I know that it must be acted upon; and that is all that I know about it." "Then we may just as well go now to the cell of the prisoner to inform him of his good fortune, and to dis- charge him from custody." "No, not so fast. There were some verbal instructions concerning the time for discharging the prisoner from cus- tody, which, taking into consideration the state of the pub- lie feeling, were most judicious." "And they are-" "To the effect that we are not to act upon this docu. ment until night, when we can discharge the prisoner, and let him pass through and out of the city under cover of the darkness." "Lord bless my soul alive! Does Governor Cavendish fear the effects of his own action?" r A NIGHT PLOT. 99 "Upon the safety of the prisoner, yes. He fears, and with reason, that if Hartman should be set at liberty dur- ing the day, so that' he should be recognized in the city, he would be mobbed and put to a more cruel-death than 'the law had adjudged him." "There is something in that. Yet, should not the Gov- ernor protect from lawless violence the man he ventured to pardon? Protect him, if necessary, even by force of arms?" "At first thought, one would say so; yet where, after all, would be the wisdom of provoking a riot to be put down by force of'arms, which always means bloodshed, and often many deaths? Would it not be better to-avoid all such trouble, by quietly getting our man out of the city to-night before promulgating the pardon to-morrow?" "Perhaps so. But the whole thing is so very inexplica- ble, that it is impossible to judge," answered the Warden. And before another word could be said, an officer of the prison entered and laid a card on the table before the Warden, saying: "I told thminister, sir, that the doors were closed for the night, but he rather insisted I should bring you his card, while he waited outside." "The Rev. Mr. Lyle," said the Warden, reading the card. "es, admit him at once. Stay though. Ask him to walk around to the private door. Let him in that way." "Yes. I left word at his house that he should m'eet me here," explamed the Sheriff. - The prison officer went off to do as he was directed. And in a few moments the Rev. Mr. Lyle entered the office, and looked around with a face full of inquiry. "Well, sir, I have had my interview with Governor Cavendish. And I presume you would like to know the result?" said 3[r. Middleton. "I should indeed," assented the minister. page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 A BEA'UTIFUL FIEND. "It was to put you in possession of that result that I left a message, requesting you to meet me here. I should have waited at-your house to see you, but for reasons that you will presently understand. Mr;.Caton, will yon favor me with that document for a moment?" The' Warden complied with the request. And the Sheriff passed the "pardon" over to the clergyman, who glanced at it, and then exclaimed fervently: "Thanks be to the Lord!-" "Amen," responded the other two gentlemen. "But how came all this about? What possible influ- ence could have been brought to bear upon Governor Cavendish to procure this full pardon of the. criminal?" inquired the miniter. "We do not know. We are both entirely in the dark on that subject," replied the Sheriff. And then the three discussed the mystery, without com- ing to any satisfactory conclusion about it. Finally the Sheriff informed Mr. Lyle of the verbal instructions that accompanied the pardon, and that were to the effect that the prisoner should be discharged from custody that night, and the pardon promulgated the next morning. "And as it is now quite dark, we may as well go to the cell of the poor wretch and gladden his heart with the news of his restoration to life and liberty," said Sheriff Middleton. The Warden assented. And the three gentlemen arose and went up stairs to an upper ward, where the Warden summoned a turnkey to precede them and unlock the door of Victor Hartman's cell. CHAPTER XiV. - FREED! MEANWHILE the condemned man had been many hours left alone in his cell, or with only his bitter reflections for company. He believed himself to be still under sentence of death. True, he had been respited for one week, and had received that respite with a sudden, impulsive gush of joy. He knew also that this respite probably pointed to a commuta- tion of his sentence, from Odeath to perpetual imprisonment. But upon reflection, was this what he wanted at all? Would perpetual imprisonment be any better than death? Would it not be much worse? Would it not be a daily, hourly death of many years? Truly he longed to live, but not the comparatively useless life of a prisoner. - He pas- sionately desired to explate his crime, but not in penal suffering that would benefit no one, not even his poor self Now that he had life, he longed for liberty. He felt that, bound or free, his life must be for ever darkened and bur- dened by memory and remorse-that bound or free, it must be a life of expiation; but he longed to make that life use- ful, and that expiation beneficial-especially to those still living; whom his crime had the most bereaved. And how , Dould he do this in prison? While he was still groaning in spirit over his criminal past and hopeless fiture, the cell door opened, and the three gentlemen entered. (101) * . page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. He looked up wearily, then arose from his s at on the side of his cot and greeted them politely, but with some surprise, for he now slowly remembered that this was a very unusually late hour for their visit. "I told you this afternoon, Hartman," began the Sheriff, "that when I was sent for by the Governor, I hoped to come back to you with good news." "Yes, sir," answered the prisoner, in a low tone, ex- pecting to hear that his sentence was commuted from death to perpetual imprisonment. "Well, I have brought you good news, very good news, better than we could have expected-,the very best news, in fact," said the Sheriff, remembering how the sudden an. nouncement of the respite had overwhelmed the enfeebled prisoner, and cautiously preparing to tell him of his full pardon. "Yes, sir," again replied Hartman, looking now a little more hopeful, as he was beginning to think that the com- mutation was not to be to perpetual imprisonment, but only perhaps for a term of years. And now the Sheriff took the folded document from the hand of the clergyman, who held it, and said: "This morning, Hartman, I had to do the most painful duty, of reading to you your death warrant. Now I have the pleasurable task of reading another sort of-l document." "Yes, sir." The poor broken creature seemed inca- pable of varying his replies from these two little syllables. The Sheriff then began and read the pardon to the end, even to the signature of the Governor. And then the three gentlemen looked at the pardoned man to see how he would take it. He took it very calmly, and even stupidly. He looked from one to the other in silent bewilderment. FREED. 103 "You understand this, Hartman, I hope?" inquired the Warden. Hartman passed his hand across his eyes, and then looked up at the speaker piteously. "He cannot realize it. His mind is almost totally bro- ken down," whispered the clergyman. Then taking the hand of the young man, he said calmly, "Hartman, the Governor has granted you a full and unconditional pardon, with an order for your discharge from custody this very night. Do you understand now?" Hartman looked wistfully up into the face of his friend and then suddenly, as the truth became clear to him,-he clasped his hands with energy, exclaiming: "Oh, is it so? Can it be so?" "It is so, Hartman. You are fully' and unconditionally pardoned," reiterated the Sheriff.. "You are a free man from this moment,' I hope that is plain, intelligible English," added the Warden. "And may Heaven grant that you may use your re- stored life -and liberty well and wisely," said the minister earnestly. "Life-. liberty Oh, thank Heaven for this I thank Heaven for this great mercy!" exclaimed the pardoned boy with an outhurst of tears and sobs. x As soon as he wasa little calmer, the Sheriff explained- to him the conditions of his discharge., It was necessary for him to leave the prison within a few moments, and it was advisable for him to leave the city the same night. Upon hearing this, Victor Hartman fell into a tremor of joyful excitement that ma him almost insensible, for the time, to the deep remorse eve preying upon his heart. He 'began to make up his little bundle-little enough it was-consisting only of a Bible, a few tracts, a change of linen, a comb, and the old suit of clothes that he had left 9 page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 A BE AUTIFUL FIEND. off when the minister gave hi' a new suit to die in, and which he now wore. While he was making these few preparations, the gen- tlemen talked apart. When he had completed them, he turned respectfully toward the Warden and said that he was ready to go. "We will join in prayer first, if you please, friends," said Mr. Lyle. The others willingly assented, and they all reverently ]mknelt and returned thanks for the prisoner's unexpected restoration to life and liberty, and offered up prayers that eQ might use these blessings in the service of God and man, by devoting the remainder of his earthly existence to repentance and good works. After an earnest Amen from the pardoned man, they all arose from their knees, and the Sheriff inquired: "Where will you go when you leave the city to-night, Hartman?" "First, sir, to my native village, and to the church-yard where my father's and my mother's graves are. I will take a last farewell of them, and then leave the country forever," replied Hartman, and he held out his hand to bid the Sheriff good-by. "No, I am going out when you do," said the latter. And then the whole party left the cell together, and went down stairs, the Warden taking them into his own private apartment. "You had better go out by my street door. Your de- parture will then attract less attention," said Mr. Caton. They took,his advice, and took leave of him at the same time. o CHAPTER -XV. AN ADVENTURE ON THE ROAD. 5W5 HEN the Sheriff, the clergyman and the released prisoner found themselves outside the prison walls, the town clock .was striking ten. The night was mild and clear. ,The stars were shining brightly. ,But the street in front of the prison was al- most deserts - The thre en walked on together until they reached the corner. Then three other men, walking from the op- posite direction, approached them. The new-comers were talking loudly. One of these said to the other two: "This is the prison where Hartman is confined. He was to have been hanged this morning, you know; but the Governor reprieved him for a week. See, there is the top of the gallows, above that north-east corner of the wall. It is standing yet; so if you should remain in town until the end of the week, you may chance to see the execution." "But," said the second man, "they do say the Gover- nor will pardon him, after all." "Yes," added the third man, " my brother and I heard that at the 'Patrick Henry,' where we are putting up." "I'll tell you what it is," exclaimed the first speaker, in a loud and angry tone: " if the Governor does turn that murderer loose on society, the murderer will be lynched will be torn limb from limb by the people, and the Gover; nor will lose his next election." (105) page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND.- Thus loudly threatening, the citizen, with his two coun try friends, passed the three men, little suspecting that he had actually brushed against the poor wretch whom he was so fiercely denouncing. Victor Hartman shuddered. "Oh t" he groaned, "all this does but show me the darkness of my guilt! I see myself reflected in public opinion as in a glass." "All this, as you call it, does but show me the immi- nent necessity of your getting out of the town as speedily as possible. Which way are you going?" inquired the Sheriff. "This way. This street leads out into the country road to my native village," replied the young man. "Then we must part here. I am going in another di- rection. So good-bye, my poor fellow. May Heaven be with you." And with this the Sheriff took a final leave of the liber- ated prisoner, and then bade good-night to the clergyman, and went his way. "I will go on with you a little further," said Mr. Lyle, as he continued to walk beside Victor Hartman. "And now tell me, my poor boy, what you really intend -to do with yourself," he added kindly. "I am going first of all to my mother's and father's graves, to take a last leave of them. I shall try to work my way to the nearest seaport, and go as a common sailor aboard some ship bound for Califrnia. I shall only en- gage for the voyage out, as I wish to get to the gold fields again. I think I see how money is to be made there. And I. do want to make money so much." "My poor, poor fellow, how sorry I am to see your soul. so set on worldly things! I had cherished better thoughts, higher hopes for you," said the clergyman rebukingly. \ "Oh, sir! do not judge me hastily or harshy. If you AN ADVENTURE ON THE ROAD. 107 knew why i am so anxious to make money rapidly, you would not blame me, you would approve," said Hartman piteously. "Perhaps so., The Lord only knows the heart," sighed the minister. "You will know mine, sir, if we both live, and I suc- ceed as I wish. Meantime, sir, will you give me leave to write to you from where I am going?? "Yes, indeed, Hartman; I shall be very glad to hear from you often, and to keep trace of your life." "Very well, sir; it is a bargain. And I thank you very much." o "And now, Hartman, what means have you for your journey?" "None whatever, sir. But I calculate to work my way to the seaport, and then work my passage out to Cali- fornia." "We thought as much," said the minister compassion- ately, as he drew an old porte-monnaie from his pocket and put it into the hands of the young man; adding, ".The Sheriff, the Warden and myself have made you up a little purse to help you on your way. It is not much; only fifteen dollars."' "I thank you and them sir, very much. It will be enough to take me to New York. From that port I shall easily get a berth on board some ship bound for California. I take this gratefully as a gift now, to be returned as a loan tenfold, if I succeed." Then, with renewed expressions of good-will from the minister, and of gratitude from the released prisoner, the two parted. The traveller left alone, went on his solitary way. The road presently entered a thick wood, lying about three miles east of the city. It was now nearly midnight. There, page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] IVU A BEAUTIFUL F IE-N D. was not a living creature to be seen. - Under his feet was a grassy bridle path, crossed here and there with little pebbly brooks; on each side of him thick trees; over. his head the starlit sky. ' It was a very solitary but very soothing scene. Suddenly the traveller was startled by the tliunder of a horse's hoofs galloping behind him. He drew to the right side of the road to let the rider pass. But in another instant the horseman suddenly drew up before him, leaned over his saddle, and called in a whisper: "Victor Hartman/" "Yesl who wants me?" impulsively answered the young man, who, nevertheless, the next moment regretted his indiscretion in answering to his name at all; for he rapidly thought this man might be the leader of a mob who had somehow gained intelligence of his pardon and liberation, and had come to lynch him. He withdrew a little from the horseman, and resolved, on the slightest appearance of danger, to plunge into the thick wood, where certainly the pursuer could not follow him. "Don't be shy of me, man! I am not a law officer in pursuit of you; and if I were, you are not a fugitive from justice. Dash it, no A fugitive from injustice, I should say. Come here 1" said the stranger.- Reassured by the tone of the speaker, Victor Hartman went to his side, feeling now only curiosity to know who he was, and what he wanted. "Hartman, you never intended to kill Lytton, did you?" inquired the stranger. "No, as ]leaven is my witness, I never did I That is the only thought that saves me from insanity, the only comfort I have in this world," said Hartman earnestly. "Take another comfort then: You never did kill him!" A SENSATION AT WENDOVER. 109 "WHAT!" "You never intended to kill him, and you never did kill him. Somebody else intended to kill him, and some- body else killed him!" "What is this you are telling me? I know better I Are you mad?" "I am telling you the truth. I know even better than you do. I am not mad." "Who are you? "Never mind. Here, hold out your hand." In amazement, Victor Hartman held out his hand. The stranger dropped a small, heavy packet into it, saying: "There! there are two hundred dollars in gold eagles. Take them. They are your right. Go to California, or- to the other place! But go with a clear conscience, for you are guiltless." And with that, qui as lightning he wheeled his horse. "But who are you, that come to me with such strange words, and-" began the bewildered traveller; but before he could finish his sentence the mysterious horseman had thundered out of sight and hearing, leaving Victor Hart- man alone in the wood, with his hands full of gold I CHAPTER XV1. A SENSATION AT WENDOVER. 'Here village statesmen talk'd with looks profound, While news much older than their ale went round.- GOLDSMaTH. B Y this morning's papers we shall get a full account of the execution of Victor Hartman," said the landlord of the Reindeer, to his circle of customers who, . " e page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. had come into the bar-room to get- their morning mint juleps, while waiting for the arrival of the mail train. But the sensation loving visitors were doomed to dis- appointment. The morning mail brought the papers indeed, but they contained no account'of the execution of Victor Hartman. On the contrary, they announced the astounding news of his full pardon, accompanied by the severest censure of the course of the Governor. When old Mr. Lytton came down stairs he found the public room full of men who, with the papers in their hands, were criticising the course of the Executive. They could not see why the Governor should have pardoned Victor Hartman, and they were talking over the affair in great excitement-naturally also connecting it with the sudden night journey of his Excellency. Apart fr6m all the others stoodlAlden Lytton, looking so grim, pale and resolved, that his grandfather at once spoke to him, inquiring: "What is it, my lad?" "Governor Cavendish-may the Lord judge him for the outrage!-has pardoned the murderer of my father; but I vow, by all I hold sacred on earth and in heaven, to devote my whole life to avenge his death upon his de- stroyer!" said Alden, grinding the words from between his teeth, as he turned perfectly livid with rage. "Alden I Alden, my boy! pray against such a spirit as that, for such a spirit tempts to murder!" replied the old man seriously. And the men who were discussing the news seeing the man who might be supposed to be the most interested in it, crowded around him with words of condolence. "It was shameful," they said; "it was abominable; it was unpardonable in Governor Cavendish." A SENSATION AT WENDOVER. 1ll "My old friends," answered Able Lytton gravely, "I thank you very much for your expressions of sympathy. But I differ with you in regard to your judgment of the Governor. I have myself that confidence in Charles Cav- endish, that I do not believe he would do anything dishon- orable. As he has fully pardoned this young man, there is no doubt that he had good and sufficient reasons for doing so-reasons which we shall know in time. As for myself; I am well pleased that the criminal has his life givenhim for repentance and amendment. His execution could not have restored the dead to life, nor comforted the living for death." And so saying the old man passed out of the room, leaving his hearers in astonishment, and in some division of opinion as to himself. "There goes a good Christian," said one. "I call him an unnatural father," said another. "Here's a youth that don't sympathize with his grand- father's sentiments, at least," said a third, pointing to Alden Lytton, who stood there with his eyes gleaming like fire- balls from his marble-white face. "No, I don't! And henceforth I devote my life to the punishment of my father's murderer, and the avengement of my father's death!" spoke Alden between his clenched teeth. "Good for you!" said number one. "Bully boy!" exclaimed number two. "Spoken like a man," added number three. And so they all encouraged the youth in his revengeful passions. In the mean time old Mr. Lytton went across the street to the post-offce, where he found. the letter that he was waiting for. He returned with it open in his. hands. He looked grave and anxious. page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "I hope you have no bad news there, sir," said Alden, meeting him at the door. "It is not good news, at least my boy. But let us go in to breakfast. We must not keep Laura waiting." They joined Laura at the breakfast-table that had been laid for the three. But the old man could eat but little. Both his young people saw that something unusual had occurred to disturb him. After breakfast he told them to go out and take a walk, as he himself had some letters to write. 'How long may we walk, grandpa? The mountain scenery is very beautiful here; but we would not like to be beguiled by it into keeping you waiting for us," said Laura. Mr. Lytton put -his hand to his head in a bewildered manner, seemed to try to collect his absent thoughts, and then inquired: "What did you say, my dear?" "When shall we come back, grandpa'?" inquired Laura, varying the form of the question. "Oh, come back to an early dinner--two o'clock. I shall not be ready to continue our journey until after that," he answered, still with an air of abstraction. The youth and maiden went out for their walk, strolled far into the fastnesses of the mountain, collected interesting mineralogical and botanical specimens, and when the sun had just passed his meridian point, discovered that they were in danger of overstaying their time, and then hastened back to the hotel. "It is a quarter past two!" exclaimed Alden in vexa- -ton, as he glanced at the parlor plock. "Grandpa will have been waiting for us. I must run and tell him that we are here," added Laura, hurrying up the steps and into the old man's room. CHAPTER XV1U. ) , A SHOCK. rHE next moment a piercing shriek from Laura brought - Alden running into the chamber, followed by the land- lord, landlady, waiter and chambermaid. They found old Able Lytton sitting back in his arm- chair, white and stiff as a statue, or a corpse; and Laura down on her knees before him, rubbing his hands, and calling wildly on his name. "Oh, what is the matter with him? what?" she cried, rising to her feet and appealing to the new-comers. They drew near in awe. "When I came in and "saw him sitting so still I thought he was asleep. I called him, but he did not answer. I took up his hand and it was deadly cold. And see! when I let it go, it falls from mine like lead! -Oh, see!" she said, and she raised the old man's hand and let it drop a dead weight. The landlord came and felt his pulse, and examined his eyes, and listened at his mouth, and then looking up with a sigh exclaimed: ' "rm 'fraid he's gone!" "Gone?" wildly inquired Laura. "He's dead," said the landlord. "Oh, no! oh, no! not dead I not dead! don't say that I It's only a fit, maybe Oh, send for the doctor!" ex- claimed Laura, throwing herself again upon her knees be- 7 (113) ; I page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. fore the corpse, and beginning eagerly to rub its fast stif- fening hands. "Yes, the doctor ought to be- sent for certainly," said the laIdlady. "Where can I find one?" hastily inquired Alden, who had not spoken until now, but had remained gazing in silent grief and awe upoAn the life-like corpse. "At the east end of this street--Dr. Hamilton. You will see his sign," answered the landlord. And Alden seized his hat and ran out. "Is there any hope? any hope?" piteously demanded Laura, looking from the landlord to the landlady. "I'm afraid not, Miss," said the landlord. "But the doctor?" "Oh! he can't do anything, honey! Only he ought to be sent for whether or no, and the coroner too, for anything I can see," said the landlady. "The coroner?" echoed Laura, with a shudder, as she was reminded of the inquest on her father's dead body; and she rubbed the cold hands more zealously than before, as if she tried to rub them back to life. "The coroner, did yoti say? Oh I hope not!"' "Well, honey, we'll see what the doctor says about it, when he comes. It will be for him to decide in this case whether an inquest will be necessary." "Oh dear! oh dear!" wept Laura, still rubbing away with all her might. "It's no use to keep on tiring of yourself over them dead hands, honey; for you might's well try to rub life into a stone statty," said Mrs. Greenfield. "Oh, grandpa! dear grandpa! dear, good, gentle grand- pal Only friendl Ohl ohl oh!" wept Laura without control. In the midst of her weeping Alden returned and entered A SHOOK. I15 the room, followed by the doctor, who came hurrying up to the side of the dead man, asking many questions as he proceeded to examine his pulse, his chest, his eyes, etc. "When was he attacked? Who was with him? Had he sustained any shook-? Had he complained of illness previously?" etc. He was told, in reply, that Mr. Lytton seemed perfect- ly well when he arose in the morning; that he had received letters from the post-office which so discomposed him as to prevent him from eating breakfast with his usual appetite; that he had retired to his room to answer letters, and' had sent his young people out for a ramble over the mountain; that at two o'clock Miss Laura Lytton, having returned to the house with her brother, Mr. Alden, went to the room of her grandfather to call him to dinner; and that she found him in this condition, and immediately gave the alarm. "It is a plain case of apoplexy," said the doctor, after he had completed his examination. "Will there have to be a coroner's 'quest? that's what I want to know," inquired the landlord. "Not at all. It is a perfectly natural death. The old gentleman has died of apoplexy. I will give a certificate to that effect."' "Oh, thank Heaven, that horror is spared us, at least!" fervently breathed poor Laura. "My- Uncle Lytton should be informed- of this at once," said Alden, who immediately saw that it was 'his duty to take upon himself the conduct of affairs. "Can you, Mr: Greenfield, send a messenger on horseback at once, to take a note that I shall:write to my uncle?" "Certainly, Mr. Alden. I'll go now," said the landlord. "And will you, Dr. Hamilton, kinadly call on the under- taker, as you return, and send him here for orders?" in- quired Alden, appealing to the physician. page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Willingly, my dear sir. You and your sister shall have my best services," said the doctor, taking up his hat. Alden sat down at the very desk where his grandfather's unfinished' letters lay, and wrote the note to his Uncle Lytton informing him of the sudden death of his father at the "Reindeer Hotel," Wendover. Having sealed and directed this letter, he took it down stairs to send it by Mr. Greenfield's messenger to Lytton "odge. As soon as he\had left the room the landlady turned to the weeping girl and said: "And now, honey, you must let me take you away out of this, and send people in to-to-to-well, to do what ought to be done, you know." Laura kissed both the cold hands she had been chafing, and was now about to relinquish, and then arose and fol- lowed Mrs. Greenfield from the room. An hour after this the remains of Able Lytton were decently laid out on his bed. And Laura and Alden were sitting by the bedside, with their hands clasped together, watching the corpse, and weeping bitterly. Three hours later still, Mr. John Lytton, the elder, and now only surviving son of the deceased, arrived at the "Reindeer." Alden and Laura were called to receive him. They hurried down stairs, anxious to meet the uncle, their father's elder and only brother, and now their own sole guardian, but whom they had never seen before. They found him in the public parlor. But oh! what a contrast to their father and their grandfather! He seemed scarcely of the same race. Their grandfather was a stately old gentleman, with silver hair and clear complexion, neat in his dress- and polite in his address. * S^ A SHOCK. 117 Their dark-haired father was a model of manly beauty, grace and dignity. This man was tall, long-limbed, awkward and uncouth in form, with coarse features, tanned and freckled face, rough red hair and stubble beard. Could this possibly be their uncle? They doubted it, until he came forward holding out both hands, and calling out in a big, hearty voice: "How d'ye do? How d'ye do? Fine young people I Pale though. That will never do. Put some color into your cheeks when we get you to the farm, feeding the chickens and milking the cows, eh?" "Oh, Uncle John I! grandpa-poor, dear grandpa!" cried Laura, bursting into tears. "Yes, I know. Don't cry. It can't be helped, you know. Just what might .have been expected./ Over sev- enty. Dear me, y;es There now, don't cry any more," said "Uncle John," brushing the tears from his own eyes, as his voice broke down with emotion. "He is not so heartless as I thought, after all," said Laura to herself, as she wiped her eyes, and raised her head to receive the kiss this awkward and ignorant giant was offering her. "Ah, you're like your father, my dear; but he and me never was a bit alike. He took after the old man. The old man was college bred, you know-a graduate of Wil- liam and Mary, Williamsburgh. But things went wrong with the farm, and when Harry and me grew up,. there wa'n't money enough to send both of us to college; so, as I was the oldest and would have the farm, the old man he sent Harry-to college, and gave him a profession. So, you see, that's the reason why your fatherwas ascholar andafine gentleman, and your uncle is only a plain country farmer."- "Did you want to go to college also when you were page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. young, uncle?" inquired Laura, with much sympathy in her eyes and voice, for she thought what a pity it was that this man should have grown upl in ignorance. "Me I Bless you, no I And there was another differ; ence between me and him. He took after the old man, and loved larning; I took after the old woman, who never read anything but the Bible and the Cookery Book. Na- ture's nature all over the world. So I'm not a city bred scholar like your father, and you'll find me rough. , But I'll tell you what it is. I'm John Lytton, your uncle. I'm Harry's brother. And just so long as John Lytton's got a shed over his head, or a crust in his cupboard, Harry's children are welcome to share it-with him and his. And now Alden, boy, show me what's left of the old man," said "Uncle John," brushing his cuff across his eyes. Alden arose to lead the way to the room of death. Laura raised and kissed the rugged hand that was held out to her, and the three went up stairs together. The son bent over the dead body of the father with a grave, sorrowful countenance. Then he covered up the cold face and turned away. "Where is that letter, Alden, that was thought to have excited the old man so much?"' inquired"Uncle John," turning to his nephew. "Here, uncle. I put the letter' and the half finished answer both into this envelope," answered the boy, handing a paper pareel to John Lytton. The farmer sat down and read the letter and its half- finished answer, and then said: "Yes, this is ill news, but not so bad as to have has- tened the old man's death, nor do I believe that it did it. It only means that we shall have to sell another slice off the land, boy, in order to lift the mortgage off the house. It's been going, little by little, this long time; so that I've A SHOCK. 119 left off calling of it a plantation, and have taken to calling of it a farm. Goodness knows whether there'll be as much as a market garden of it left, by the time I'm ready to leave it to my son. I reckon by that time Charles Cavendish will ha' got the last of it, as he's got the fust." "Was Governor Cavendish the purchaser, sir?" inquired Alden. - "Aye, lad! He buys all the land that comes into the market adjacent to his own. They do say that some of it he helps into the market o' purpose that he may buy it. He has a' land hunger,' he has; so I guess in time his daughter Emma will be about the wealthiest landholder in the State-." "Is Miss fEmma his only child then?" "Yes; his only child and heiress. She'll be a spec some o' these days, you bet. Well, Laura, my good girl, be al little woman now, and go and see the landlady, and ask her if she can prepare two bedrooms-one for the old woman, and one for my wife Kitty. They'll be here in the gig to-night." jaura left her uncle and her brother together in the death chamber, and went in search of Mrs. Greenfield, whom. she found busy with her domestic affairs below stairs. "So the widow and daughter-in-law are coming to-night, are they, honey?" said the landlady, when she had heard Laura's 'story. "Well, there's no one stopping here now but yourselves, so you see there's plenty of empty bed- rooms, and you may choose any two you like foi your grandmother and aunt. Come along." And so the landlady lei Laura all over the house. And the young girl selected two pleasant front rooms on the first floor, with windows commanding afike mountain -iew. Between sunset and dark that evening, a large, old- , . i page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. fashioned gig, containing two women, drew up before the door. The younger one, who drove the gig, alighted and handed out the elder. And then the two women,- leav- ing the gig and horse in charge of the hostler and stable boy, entered the hotel. John Lytton, with Alden and Laura, were at the door waiting to receive them. "Now, brace up! brace up like a woman, mother!" said John, as the old lady dropped her head upon his shoulder and burst into tears. "Oh! it's so sudden, John! It's so awuful sudden!" sobbed the widow. "I know it is; but then the suddenness had its advan- tages too. - It saved him from sickness and pain. So long as he had to go to-day, an't you better satisfied that he enjoyed his life and health up to the last minute, and then went off in this easy way?" "Well, yes, I suppose I ought to be; bu it's such a shock!" "So it is. But now here are Allen and Laura, who are going to be a comfort to you. Speak to them." The old lady lifted her head from his bosom, and gave her hand first to Laura, and then to Alden, saying: "Poor childrenl How you've growed, to be sure It's more'n five years since I've seen you. I've growed, too, 's wh as you; but the difference is, you've growed - up, and I've growed down, or growed old, which is the same thing." . While the widow was renewing her acquaintance with her grandchildren, John Lytton was speaking apart with his wife. "Yes, Kitty; that's so, old girl! The man won't renew; so there's nothing else for me to do, but to follow the ex- A SHOCK. 121 ample of my father and grandfather before m, and enter upon my inheritance by the forced sale of a good part of it. Never mind! Here, speak to Laura and Alden. They are to live long of us, pool; children." ' Mrs. John Lytton kissed her niece and nephew, and cried a little over them. o And then, leaving Alden in company with his Uncle John, Laura took the two women up to their rooms. And there, while they laid off their bonnets and shawls, Laura for the first time got a good look at them. Mrs. Lytton the elder was a woman of about, sixty-five years of age, very fair, very fat, with blue eyes and gray hair. She was very commonly dressed, in a light calico gown, white muslin cap, straw bonnet and brown shawl. Mrs. Lytton the younger was about thirty-five years old, a tall, well-formed woman, rather thin in flesh, with rich black hair and fine dark eyes. She wore a rusty black silk dress and mantle, and a straw bonnet, with a green barege vail. Laura thought, her new relations were very ordinary looking people indeed. And then she blamed herself for thinking so, and redoubled her attentions to them. The weather was very. warm. The distance to Lytton Lodge was long. The parish church and church-yard, and the family graves, were all here at Wendover. Here too was the undertaker, who could get up the funeral, the mourning and all things needful for the occasion, on a short notice. So, after due consideration, it was decided that the funeral should take place at Wendover church, on the third day from the death of the old man. In pursuance of this plan on the Saturday noon follow- ing, the remains of old Able Lytton were laid in the grave. On the afternoon, of' the same day, the family started on their homeward journey to Lytton Lodge. page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] CHAPTER XV1I11. "FE AT LYTTON LODGE. A I VERY pleasant road, through a deeply wooded vale -lying between two lofty mountain ridges, led from the village of Wendover to Lytton Lodge. Our party travelled in the large old family cariole, or "carryall," as they called it, which would comfortably seat six persons, though there were but five now, even counting the driver, who was no other than John tytton himself. The sun was scarcely an hour high when they turned out of the public highway into a private road leading first through pine woods, then through wheat fields, then . through apple and peach orchards, and finally through a' thickly shaded yard up to a long, low, steep-roofed, old- fashioned house, with many out-houses clustered about it, from which issued negro men and women, negro boys and girls and babies, and any number of dogs-mastiff, spaniel, hound and "cur of low degree," all--bipeds and quadrupeds -vociferously, after their kind, welcoming their master home. "Oh, dear me I Down, Rose! Stop it, Frisky! Behave yourself, Jack," cried old Mrs. Lytton, twitching hoer black bombazine skirt first from the muddy paws of a puppy, and next from the sticky fingers of a piccaninny as she climbed down from the carryall and waddled into the house. 4( ," My dear Alden and Laura," said John Lytton, "I welcome you both home to Lytton Lodge, where your forefathers have lived two hundred years or more, on this (122) "FE AT LYTTON LODGE. 123 spot, if not in this very house, which has been rebuilt two or three times since its foundations were first laid. And goodness knows it wants rebuilding again, for it's a poor place after your fine suburban villa, niece," added Uncle John, as he helped Laura Lytton to alight. "I like it ever so much, uncle," said Laura, gazing at the old house, with its steep roof, small windows and long- roofed porch. i"I'm glad you do. And I'm glad to have you -here. And so's mother, though she's trotted into the house with- out stopping to say so. And so, I think, is Kitty here, though she don't say anything either," said Uncle John, with a sly look at his wife. "Jacky, you know I'm glad to have the children here. Sure, if there's but little money, there's full and plenty of everything to eat and drink," answered Kitty. "Take care, Laura. There's Potsy with her little muddy paws onyour dress. And I declare, if there an't Ad with his hands all over molasses grabbing your veil! Down, Potsy! /Clare out, Ad! I swear one can't take a step here without tumbling over a puppy or a baby!" ex- claimed John Lytton, drawing his niece's arm within his own and taking her into the house, followed by Kitty and, Alden. On the threshold they were met by a very large, fat old lady-so large and fat that she might have been taken for the proverbial alderman, in "' female apparel." "Ah, Molly! how do, old girl-?" called John, in his big voice, as he heartily shook hands with the fat woman. Then turning to his niece and nephew, he explained, "This is my sister-in-law, Miss Molly Moss. Molly, these are Harry's children, you know. Shake hands With them." Miss Molly put out two fat hands and grasped and shook those of Laura and Alden, saying kindly: page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "How do? I'm glad to see you both. Used to know your father onst,h hen I was a young 'oman and he a young man. Come in now, and take off your things. Tea's all ready." "Where's Charley?" inquired John. "Oh, he's down in the wheat field, helping to stack." "And where's Octy and Ully?" "Oh, they're both in the garden, picking strawherries for tea. They'll be in all right by the time we're -ready to sit down,y said jolly Miss Molly, as she beckoned Laura to come into the best bedroom on the ground floor, to take off her bonnet and wash her face and hands. The best bedroom was very plainly furnished; the walls were whitewashed; the floor was bare; the front windows ,were -shaded by simple blue paper blinds; the bed was covered with a blue and white checked counterpane, and adorned with/pllows white as snow. A pine dressing- table was cohered with a neat white cloth and surmounted by a small ldoking-glass in a black walnut frame, decorated with a sprig o'sparagus. There was one arm-chair with a blue calico cver, and there were three chip-bottomed chairs and a corner washstand with a blue basin and pitch- er. That was all. "This is our best spare room. You can take off your things here and get ready for tea. After tea Irwill show you your own room. It is up stairs," said Mis Molly hospitably. Laura thanked the old lady, anuP- quickly made her slight toilet. And then Miss Molly offered to show her the way to the table. Laura followed her conductress, not into any dining- room, but straight through the bare hall and, out at the back door, to the grass-grown back yard, where, under the delightful shade of a wide-spreading old horse-chestnut tree the tea-table was set. -I "FE AT LYTTON; LODGE. 125 It was a large round table, covered with a clean coarse linen table-cloth. And besides tea, it was loaded with the rustic luxuries of sweet milk, rich cream, home-made bread and cakes, fried spring chickens, and strawherries, and currants. There was quite a large family party around the table- nine, I believe, in all. For there, in addition to the other members of the family, were the three children of John and Kitty Lytton; first Charley, a lank, awkward, red-headed and freckled-faced boy of seventeen, the very image of his father," and Octavia and Ulrica, two little girls of ten and of eight years, thin, brown and black haired like their mother. "Come, now, sit down and make yourselves at home. And Laura, what shall I help you to, my dear?." said John Lytton, at the same time sticking his fork into half a fried chicken and transferring it to her plate,'while old Mrs. Lytton filled a large cup of tea and sent it down to her by the bright-eyed, jet-black negro girl, who waited on the table. The hospitality was embarrassing. Yet Laura thought she had never min her life seen anything half so pleasant as this tea-table under the horse-chestnut tree. "Do you always take tea out here?" she softly inquired of her next neighbor, Cousin Charley, who blushed crimson up to the edges of his curly red hair, at being addressed so suddenly by this fine city young lady. He mumbled something in reply, of which Laura caught only the words: , "-Fine weather," "Don't be so bashful, Charley," spoke out John Lytton in his big voice. "It's your own cousin, you know, and you mustn't be 'feared of her. Yes, Laura, we always take breakfast and tea both out here in the summer time. Don't we, mother?" page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Yes, it's cooler. And it helps to keep flies out'n the house," answered the old lady, who was busily pouring out -he tea. "I think it is perfectly delightful. Don't you, Cousin Charley?" said Laura, smiling on her neighbor. Charley smiled, flushed up, mumbled something that sounded like: "Very much so indeed," and wished silently that his pretty dark-eyed' city cousin would not talk to him just yet a while. The sun set while they were at table. And when the pleasant meal was over, they all arose and strolled, in the after-glow, about the grassy yard, among the great trees; while Laura made acquaintance with her two little girl cousins, 'and Alden accepted a shy invitation from Charley- to walk down with him to the cow-pen, or "kuppin," as he called it. CHAPTER XIMX. PRIDE A3NrD POVERTY. L AURA came in with her two little cousins, and sat on the old porch, in the twilight) watching a phenome- non: from the hole in the peaked gable end of the steep roof darted a dark bird, that flapped its dusky wings and sailed slowly away to the distant woods; in half a minute an- other; then another and another, at regular intervals until Laura had counted about thirty. And then she turned to her little cousins, and said: "I thought birds went to roost at night; but look there there's ever so many of them flying out." PRIDE AND POVERTY. 127 "Oh, them's bats," said thq little Ulrica, pitying her city cousin's ignorance. "Bats is night birds you know; so's owls, and turkey-buzzards too sometimes, when they's out after chickens. Our white hen was left out somehow or other, t'other night, and the turkey-buzzard caught her before morning. And-Pop sent Black Bob out with a gun to shoot the buzzard, but he couldn't find her. She hides herself in the big woods there." "I think,~said Laura, " I have counted at least a half hundred of those dark birds, and they're coming out still. How many there must be I " " You bet! I They live in the roof up there. I reckon there's more'n a million of'em,' said Ulrica, speaking with childish exaggeration. "And then there's swallows. They builds in the chimneys where we don't have no fires. They wakes me up every morning a twittering and a fluttering in and out." These were trifles, but very pleasant trifles to the city bred girl, to whom this wild, rude sylvan life was so de- lightful a novelty. As twilight deepened into darkness, and night glittered with its millions of stars, Laura still sat there listening to the little girls' prattle, and enjoying the dewy freshness of the scene, and inhaling the rich aroma of the swamp mag. nolias, whose white flowers gleamed from the thicket at the foot of the hill in front of the porch. "Our milk house is down there, built over the brook. The water goes right through it. So the milk and cream and butter is all set in stone crocks, and put down in the running water to keep cool," Octavia explained. "How very nice I It :s all so very pleasant here I" said Laura. "Think so ? Pop thought you wouldn't like it at; all, page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. a-coming from the city. Is the city very fine, sure enough?" inquired the child. "For those that like to live in it, yes. But I don't, es. pecially since I have seen this," said Laura sincerely. "Oh! an't it so good you do like our house, after all!" exclaimed Ully, cuddling her little hand into that of Laura, as she added confidentially. "And Pop was so 'feared you wouldn't. But you an't proud a bit, are you, now?" "I trust not, my dear. Pride would be very much out of keeping with my circumstances," smiled Laura. "I'm so glad! To-morrow morning I'll take you down to the kuppin to see Maudy milk the cows. And I'll show you the mountain cherry-tree and the mocking-bird's nest and Black Bob's house, and heaps o' things." Laura's heart was going out to these kindly little girls; but she was surprised and grieved to see how very igno- rant they were. Many laborers' children in the city, going to -the public schools, were better, much better taught than these children of the poor country gentleman. "Don't you go to school at all, Octy and Ully?" she in- quired. "No," they answered simultaneously. "We used to god" exclaimed Octy. "But our shoes wored out and Pop couldn't buy us new. And 'sides, the Easter holidays was coming, so Pop said we needn't go no more till they was over." Laura's heart sank within her. Hadshe and her brother come to be an additional burden to a family who were so straitened in circumstances that they could not afford to buy shoes for their children to wear to school? And then a strange contrast struck her, between, on the one hand, the good house, the rich land, the abundance of everything to eat and drink, and on the other hand, the lamentable lack of proper furniture, of proper olothing, and PRIDE AND POVERTY. 129 of money to buy either. While she was wondering at this inconsistency, little Ulrica's next words solved the mystery. "If Pop would send his butter and eggs and fruit-and garden truck to market, like farmer Goldsmith does, he'd have heaps and heaps of money to buy us shoes and things." "Why doesn't he?" inquired Laura, naturally enough. The little girls opened their eyes wide and stared at the questioner, while Octavia answered: "Why, Pop's a gentleman, if he's ever so poor, and so he can't do such things. But farmer Goldsmith, you see, he's only a low person, if he's ever so rich; and so it don't matter what he does. Pop says if he's 0got more garden truck and things than he wants for his own people, he'll let any body else as wants have it for sending, and for nothing; but he won't sell .it, 'cause none of his aunt-sifters never did." "His aunt-sis- Oh! you mean his ancestors!" said Laura, correcting herself, with a smile. "Yes, I said that," agreed Octy. And now old Mrs.- Lytton called front the house: "Children, come in. It's time to go to bed." "Time to go to bed at half-past eight o'clock!" ex- claimed Laura, as she consulted her little gold watch by the light of a dip candle in a tin candlestick that stood on the hall table. "Why, yes. Oh, what a pretty watch! We are always in bed by nine, every one of us. Where did you get it? Is it rale gold? Will it go?-Yes, granny, we're coming, now," said Octy,'speaking a little at random, for she was dazzled and bewildered by the splendid little gold toy in the hand of her city cousin. Laura put the watch in her hand, and went on to where Miss Molly Moss stood with a lighted candle at the foot of the stairs, beckoning to her. 8 page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Laura kissed her grandmother, and then, attended by 'her little cousins, followed Miss Molly. ,Bare floors and bare walls met her on every hand. But the neatness and cleanness of the whitewashed walls and well-scrubbed floors quite compensated for their want of carpet and paper. Miss Molly led her up stairs to a broad central hall, immediately over the one below, and with a front and back window, corresponding to the front and back door of the house. Two or three old oak chests and a disused spin- ning-wheel were set aside in the different corners of this hall, and bags of cotton and wool hung upon the walls. Miss Molly opened the door on the right, and let Laura into a large room with sloping roof, and with a large win- dow in the gable end. In this room were two white beds, in the opposite, cor- nere, to the right and left of the gable-end window. There was an old-fashioned mahogany chest of drawers, with a sloping lid, in the third comer, and a triangular washstand, with a cracked white basin and pitcher, in the fourth cor- ner. And two wooden chairs and a three-legged stand completed the furniture. "There, my dear, this is the girls' room. You will sleep in one bed, and Octy and Ully in t'other. But you must take your choice," said Miss Molly. "' Which have you been used to sleep in?" inquired Laura, with a smile. "Oh, either. Sometimes one, and sometimes t'other, just as we pleased," said Octy. ' "Yes, they had the room all to themselves, and did as they pleased in it. But I am sure they are quite delighted to have you for a companion," said Miss Molly. "Yes, indeedy!" exclaimed Octy heartily, while Ully went up and kissed Laura by way of comment. P RIDE AND POVEBRTY. 131 Miss Molly stood the dip candle on the top of the chest of drawers, and bid the young people good-night, and wad- dled out of the room and down the stairs. Laura found her trunk and travelling bag at the foot of one of the beds. And she knelt down to open her trunk to take out her night-clothes. Full of interest and curiosity, Octy and Ully squatted down beside her. "You don't mind our looking at your pretty things, do you, Cousin Laura??' inquired Octy, while Ully looked pleadingly in her face. "Not a bit. But there is not much that is" pretty to be seen. 'Look!" said Laura, lifting the lid and showing her mourning outfit of bombazine and crape and her very plain white under-clothing. The children were disappointed. But when she lifted two deep trays from her trunk and took from under them' a malachite jewel casket, an ivory dressing-case, a mother-7 of-pearl work-box, a papier mach writing-desk, they broke out in exclamations of surprise and delight. "Oh! -oh! oh!: And you said there was not much that was pretty!" cried Octy, clapping her hands, "Well, these are pretty, certainly. And to-morrow I will show you the inside of them, which is much prettier than the outside. But not to-night," said Laura, as she replaced the boxes and the trays, and locked her trunk. And the little girls kissed her and undressed them- selves, said their prayers, went to bed, and soon fell asleep. In a few moments Laura also retired to bed. She had put out her candle, but the clear starlight night shining through the little uncurtained window, dimly lighted up the room; and the fluttering in and out of bats in the roof, softly broke the silence; and the novelty of her situation excited her mind, so that she could not sleep. page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 A- BEAUTIFUL FIE'ND. While she lay there wide awake she heard her Cousin Charley and her brother come noisily up the stairs to go to bed. Charley, who seemed to have recovered himself in Alden's company, -was saying aloud: "That over there's the gal's room. It's right over the spare bedroom that's down stairs, you know. And this here right opposite is the boy's room, where you and me have got to sleep. It's right over the front parlor. You an't been in the front parlor yet. All the family picturs is in there. Well, come along." And they went into the opposite room and shut the door. And although she still heard the sound of their voices, she could not catch the sense of their words. And now Laura's own reflections kept her wide awake. "To think," she said to herself, "that Alden and I should have felt so discontented because we could not go to boarding-school and college to complete our education, when here are our own dear cousins without even the rudi- ments of an education!" And then Laura thought she saw her own way clear to becoming useful and happy in the family. "With such an abundance of food and no market for it, my board will be no expense to them. While, if they will let me, I will be the teacher of these little girls, and so be a benefit, instead of a burden." 'With these good resolutions Laura fell asleep, and -slept soundly until the dawn of day, when she was very pleasant- ly awakened by the twittering of what seemed ten-thou- sand swallows fluttering in the roof, in the chimney, and in the branches of the great horse-chestnut tree that stood opposite the gable-end window. CIFAPTER XX. IN THE COUNTRY. Ever charming, ever new, Will the landscape tire the view? The fountain's fall, the river's flow, The wooded valleys, warm and low; The windy summit, wild and high, Roughly rushing on the sky; The pleasant seat, the light-house tower, The naked rock, the shady bower; The church and village, cot and farm- Each give to each a double charm DYER'S iRONGAR HLL. "AURA sprang out of bed, and went and threw the window wide open. A score of birds, perched among the foliage of the horse-chestnut tree, flew startled-and twittering away. Under the broad shade of the tree, the breakfast-table was set. A scantily but cleanly dressed negro boy, with a branch of locust in his hand, was brushing off the chance fly that now and then lighted on the clean linen table-cloth. The grass, the flowers, the bushes and the trees on" the lawn were all sparkling in the light of the morning sun. Beyond the beautiful lawn were orchards blushing with ripe fruit, and fields glowing with golden grain. Beyond them again arose the azure summits of the Blue Ridge. But the'breakfast-table was set, and so Laura knew that she must dress quickly and go down. (133) page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. She drew in her head just in time to hear-a merry com- motion, and see the two little girls that shared her room jump out of their bed. They ran to her and threw their arms around her with kind morning greetings, and then hastened to dress them- selves. A negro girl came into the room with a bucket of firesh spring water, to fill the ewers. "What is your name?" inquired Laura. "Calline, Miss," answered the- dusky maiden, smiling, and showing all her fine teeth. "Well, Caroline, please to tell your mistress' not to wait breakfast for me." "Marse John an' Miss Kitty they telled 'me tickler to tell you not to hurry of yerself, case they wer a gwine to wait for you," answered the smiling girl." "Course they are. An't you company?" said Octy decisively.: So Laura hurried all the more because she was told not to do so. And the three were soon ready to go down stairs. They found the froht and back doors of the hall wide \ open, and the fresh morning breeze blowing through the house. Also on each side of the hall were two doors, making six in all: the two opposite doors nearest the front of the house, opened respectively into the large parlor on the right and the large dining-room on the left; and the two doors nearest the back opened, the one into old Mrs. Lytton's apartment, which was behind the parlor, and the other into Mr. and Mrs. John Lytton's chamber, which was behind the dining-room. The floors of all these rooms were bare, and the walls were whitewashed. They were very scantily furnished, but had a free, airy, pleasant aspect, much enhanced by IN THE COUNTRY. 135 the freshness and verdure of trees, shrubs and vines seen through all the open windows. In the hall the family were waiting for Laura. Laura noticed, with some surprise, that the women had laid aside the new black dresses, and were clothed in cheap, clean, faded&calicoes, As she came down her uncle hailed her in his big voice, and gave her a hearty good-morning. And when she apologized for being late and keeping him waiting, he boisterously assured her that he was willing to wait half the day, rather than she should be hurried, or he should) miss the pleasure of breakfasting with her. Then old Mrs. Lytton, who stammered a little, seeing Laura in her neat black bombazine dress, with the fine linen collar and cufs, exclaimed: "La, child! What, what, whatmakesyouwearthat nice dress every day? Do-do-don't you know as you'll sp'ile it?" "It is the plainest dress I've got, grandma. This is nothing but bombazine without trimming. My best dress is a lustreless corded black silk, trimmed with double black crape," said Laura. "Well, well, well, I don't won-won-wonder poor Henry died a bankrupt, to bring his children up to sich extrava- gance," said the old lady, holding up both hands. "Dear grandma, it was nobody's fault that my outfit is too good. When our mourning was ordered, the dress- maker was left to her own discretion, and got what she thought fit. She knew no better," said Laura, apologetically. "There, mother, don't hurt the girl's feelings. Never mind grandma, Lolly. She means no harm. And now let us go to breakfast," said John Lytton noisily, rising to lead the way. On the lawn she found Alden Lytton and his Cousin Charley, with whom he had struck up a great friendship. page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 A: BEAUTIFUL FIEND. They all sat down to the table, where delicious coffee, sweet milk, rich cream, wheat rolls, Indian corn bread, fresh butter, spring chickens, and fresh trout caught that morn- ing from the mountain streams, awaited them. After enjoying this breakfast with excellent appetites, they all got up to go about their daily business. "Uncle," said Alden cheerfully. "I want you to set me to work." John Lytton stopped and stroked his -full red beard, while he looked at his nephew a whole minute before an- swering. Then he laid his hand on the youth's shoulder, and said: "Now look y'here, Aldy Lytton! You're my dead brother's son, and Lolly's his daughter; and consequently / I'm your own uncle. And not the cruel uncle of the babes in the woods. I can't educate you. I can't send you to college, nor to boarding-school. I can't do that for my own children. It takes money. And money is just what I haven't got. But I can give you just what I give my own children-a roof over your heads and a bed to sleep in, and full and plenty to eat and drink. And what is better than all that, my boy and igirl, I give you your liberty in my house and on my land. You're to do just exactly as you please, and nobody shall gainsay you. Do you understand me now?" "Yes, yes, Uncle John. And we thank you very much," said Alden. "( And what we would like to do would be to please you, uncle," added Laura. "So, as I was about to say, Alden, if you really do pre- fer to go out into the field, and help to stack wheat along . of me and Charley, why, we'll be glad of your company; but if you prefer to stay about the house and study your book, why, just you do it. You're your own master." IN THE COUNTRY. 137 "I would rather go out and help you to stack wheat, Uncle John--a great deal rather," said Alden. "All right. Come along, then," said John heartily. And the three, Mr. Lytton, Charley and Alden, went out to the field. y Old Mrs. Lytton and Miss Mo Moss stood by the breakfast-table, washing up the cups and saucers-old china that had been in the family half a century, and was too precious to be intrusted to the careless hands of servants. "Won't you let me do that for you, dear grandma?" inquired Laura, beginning to turn up her sleeves. "What, what, what in that nice dress?-which it couldn't be put in the wash-tub and washed, if it- was ever so dirty! No, child, o' course not!" replied the old lady. "I wish I had a common calico to work in. Can I do nothing to help you, grannie?" "Hi, no, child! What can a city girl like you do " "Oh, many things. I never was idle and lazy." "Yes, honey; play the pianny, paint picters, and read books. That's about all you-can do, I reckon. I don't blame -you, child. It's the way you have been feotch up. But, however, there's no piannies nor books nor sich here, for you to go to work on," said the old lady, diligently wiping her china cups. "Grandma, I can sew very neatly," persisted Laura. "Ah, well I empty pusses make idle needles. There 1 an't nothing to make up in this house, nor likewise any sewing to do, barring it's a little patching, which it would be too coarse for your fingers. Octavia Anna, can't you take your cousin and show her around the place, to amuse her?" inquired the good woman, breaking from her dis- oourse to Laura, and turninig to her other granddaughter. "Yes; you said you would go with me to the cow-pen, to see the cows milked," said Laura, smiling. page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "To see the cows milked, at seven o'clock. in the morn- ing! Ohl oh! That's a good joke! Why, the cows are milked every morning before sunrise, as soon as ever it is light enough to see to do it. If you had got up early enough I would a took you, but now you'll have to wait till sundown," replied Octy. "But we can show you the mountain cherry-tree and Uncle Bob's house," added Ulrica, snatching her sun-bonnet from the grass, where it was lying. So Laura allowed the little girls to lead her wherever they wished; and first of all, to a log cabin on the edge of the wood, where "Uncle Bob," the patriarch of the planta- tion negroes lived, and raised a few chickens, and culti- vated a few vegetables; and then to the mountain cherry- tree, that the children valued more than all the orchards of the place. They came back to the house before nine o'clock. They found the three women of the family collected in old Mrs. Lytton's own room, and sitting at a quilting frame ".quilt- ing a quilt."- Laura asked the little girls to show her their school books. And they gladly complied with her request, and displayed with pride their well-worn "Webster's Spelling- Books," and "Murray's English Readers." And Laura heard them read, and set them lessons. And thus quietly she glided into her self-assumed office of teacher. At twelve oclock noon the dinner-table was set in the front dining-room. And "Calline," the pretty, dusky house-maid, went out on the lawn and blew the horn for the master to come in. AnA soon John Lytton, with Charley and Alden, came in frog the field. And Laura was just a little shocked-and blamed her- IN THE COUNTRY. 139 self for being so-when Uncle John threw off his jacket, tossedqit into a corner, and sat down to dinner in his shirt sleeves, But he looked so clean, fresh, healthy, and cheerful, and was so cordially kind and hospitable, that Laura tried her best not to draw comparisons between him and his late brother, her own accomplished father. After dinner, Uncle John and the two boys went out to work again, much to the surprise of Laura, who had been used to see people rest after dinner. "I always thought," she said, "that the colored people did all the farm work." "So they do, honey, wh-wh-when there's enough of 'em, as there is on the rich plantations. But we have only Uncle Bob and John Brooks. And Uncle Bob is too old to do much. - And John Brooks can't get in the whole crap by himself, you know. And we an'tl: able to, hire hands; so John and, Charley do have to go into the fields," said old Mrs. Lytton. "Oh, then Alden can be of some use, can't he?" ex- claimed-Laura gladly, for she felt very anxious that both her brother and herself should do something for their own maintenance. "He can be a heap of use, if he is only willing to work,", replied the old lady sententiously. "We are both willing and anxious to work, and I only wish you would give me something to- do," smiled Laura. "Well, well, well, then sit down here at the quilting frame, and I'll learn you how to mark off a pattern and quilt," stammered grandma. Gladly Laura took her seat. And attentively she lis- tened. Being a skilful needlewoman in plain and fancy work, and an apt and willing- pupil in the art and mystery page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. of quilting, she Soon learned to quilt as well as her in- structress. "I see plain as you an't gwine to be no burden," said Miss Molly Moss, with a jolly laugh. "How, how, how could poor Henry's childun be con- sidered of burdens any how, Molly? I reckon as they got as much nateral right to be here as John's has," grumbled their grandmother. "Course they have. And I think as it's a great credit to 'em to be both willin' and able to be so helpful," agreed MDiss Molly. "Yes, indeed, I think so too," added Mrs. John Lytton. And the four women, two on each side of the quilting frame, worked harmoniously together until "Calline" came in with her wooden bowl to get flour to make biscuits for supper. That broke up the party. The quilting frame was lifted from its supporting chair backs and leaned sideways up against the wall. Old Mrs. Lytton went into her " store-room " to give out flour, tea and sugar for supper. Miss Molly Moss went out to set the table under the shade of the horse-chestnut tree. And young Mrs. Lytton took her sun-bonnet from its nail, and called Laura and the two little girls to go with her to the cow-pen, to see the cows fed and milked. Calline, after taking the provision into the kitchen to the cook, came out again with 4a little milk-piggin in one hand, and a large milk-pail in the other, and walked before her young mistress. The path led through the brushwood, down to a little glen through which a narrow stream ran. The cow-pen was simply a quarter of an acre of ground enclosed in a rough wooden fence. FARM LIFE. 141 Six fine cows were already driven in there by a negro boy who tended them. And Calline went in with her pig- gin and commenced operations, while Mrs. John Lytton and the three girls leaned over the fence and watched the work. They remained there until the sound of the horn sum- moned them\ home to supper. On their way back to the house they were joined by John Lytton, Charley and Alden, who were returning from the wheat field. The well spread supper-table was waiting for them under the horse-chestnut tree. It was but a repetition of the pleasant scene of the pre- ceding afternoon. When supper was over, the whole party went on to the piazza in front of the house, where they'sat talking over the affairs of the farm, while Laura watched the bats flying out through their hole in the roof and sailing away upon their nocturnal depredations, until the twilight faded into night, and brought the early bedtime of the family, when they had prayers in the hall, led by Aunt Kitty; after which they all bade each other good-night and retired to rest. I have described this one day at the farm at some length, because it was a fair example of many days that followed it. ! CHAPTER XXI. FARM LIFE. "the summer long the family arose at dawn of day, breakfasted at sunrise, dined at noon, supped at sun- set, and retired to rest soon after nightfall. page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] !42! A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Every day the men and boys went out in the fields to work, and the women and girls employed themselves in the house in quilting, carding, spinning, weaving, or making up garments for the household. And as long as the summer and the novelty lasted, Alden and Laura were busy and. happy-Alden working with his uncle in the field, and Laura helping her aunt in the house, or teaching the children. Autumn brought some little change. The crops were all gathered into the barns. There was not much work to do in the fields. And John Lytton often had a day's holiday, and took his son and nephew, and his dogs and gun with him, and went shooting on the mountain. And as often they re. turned laden with game. These holidays were days of delight to the boys. There were no more pleasant breakfasts and suppers under the shade of the great horse-chestnut tree. The tree had changed its summer dress of green to an autumn dress of burning crimson and gold, and a carpet of the same hue lay around its foot. In the house, bright wood fires were burning in the wide fireplaces; and around the largest of these, in the common sitting-room, the women and girls of the family were daily gathered, engaged in some domestic occupa- tion-sewing, knitting, carding, spinning, feeling, and some- times even weaving; for at that day, in that part of the country, many domestic manufactures went on. On some days these -occupations were varied by pre- serving and pickling fruits and vegetables, and making cordials and catsups, when old Mrs. Lytton, notable house- wife that she was, would spend the whole forenoon be- tween her store-room and kitchen, paring, coring, weigh- ing, seasoning, stewing, potting and bottling, assisted by FARM LIFE. 143 her cook Cassandra, or "Cassy," and Casy's two pretty dusky daughters, Caloline and Amanda, otherwise "Calline" and "Mandy." On Sundays the whole family crowded into the big carryall, and went to the Wendover church, often taking luncheon with them, and staying over to the afternoon service. On Sundays only, the elder women of the family wore their neat black dresses; on all other days they wore their cheap faded light calicoes. Laura and Alden still made themselves very useful, so that their presence in the house was felt to be a benefit in- stead of a burden. Alden kept his uncle's accounts, which had always been a sore bother to poor John, and he helped him with any work that he had on hand. Laura taught her ignorant little cousins the art of read- ing, writing and ciphering, and was looking forward to the time when she should lead them through the intricacies of grammar, geography and history. Besides this, Laura made all old Mrs. Lytton's and Miss Molly Moss' caps, and helped Mrs. John Lytton with the Liliputian wardrobe she was preparing. Once in a while, a neighboring family would come and spend the afternoon and take an early tea with the Lyttons, and go home before night. And occasionally the Lyttons, with Laura and Alden, would go out to return such a visit. Were our young people happy then? Ah, no! Life at the farm-house was really monotonous, and be- ides, they were starving for mental food. There were no books. The Bible and the "Virginia lousewife" comprised the whole library at Lytton Lodge. o page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND.. There were no newspapers taken in the family since the'ideath of old Mr. Lytton, not even the local paper, the Wendover Watchman. A useless expense, and a great waste of time, John would have considered the taking and reading a newspaper. Laura and Alden felt not only that they were making no progress in their education, but that they were really losing ground. At length one day Alden said to John Lytton: "Uncle, a school for boys is very much wanted in this neighborhood. Don't you think I might do some good, and make some money to pay my own college fees, by keeping a school this- winter, while I have so little else to do?" - John Lytton looked aghast. "Nephew," he began, with comic solemnity, " do you want to break my heart? Do you want to bring my gray hairs-" John's hairs were as red as fire, and he was in the prime of life; nevertheless he was so affected by the picture that he drew, as to break down in the middle of his sentence and actually shed tears. Then he went off into a tower- ing passion, and roared forth: "No LYTTON, since the world was made, ever got his living by teaching a paltry country school. And no Lyt- ton, while the world lasts, ever shall do so with MY con- sent. While I have a roof to shelter me, or a crust to nourish me, you shall share it! But you shall not put me to open shame by keeping of a school!" And with this he struck his broad-brimmed hat upon his head and stalked out of the house, leaving his aston- ished nephew to reflect how little John really meant when he had promised to give Alden that which was better than lodging, food or clothing-liberty of action! And leaving F'ARM LIFE. 45 Laura to compare his present conduct in objecting to the keeping of the school, with his past conduct in refusing to sell his surplus fruits and vegetables and to conclude that they were consistent with each other and with him-t-eir greatignorant, bigoted, blundering, but good-natured utcle. "I am growing very impatient under all this, Laura," said Alden, turning to his sister. "I am not only not getting on with my education, but I am falling back. I like Uncle John, but I do not wish to degenerate into a mere animal. I know that if it were not for his prejudices, I could make money enough by teaching to pay my college fees; or I could go back to the city, and through my father's friends I could get some situation where I could make money enough to pay for a college course." "Unale Jacky would never consent, Alden,", sighed Laura. "Don't I know it? He's as stupid and as stubborn as one of his own mules," said Alden bitterly. "inOh, don't say that Aldy t. He is so generous and kindhearted." "Oh, that be-thlamed I His generosity and kindness is going to ruin all my prospects in life, combined: with hiss stupidity and stubbornness. If he were less generous and kind-hearted, he would turn me out of the house. If he were less stupid and- stubborn, he would let me go, with his blessing. In either case I should be the gainer. For I know, with the educational foundation that I have already got, I could go on and succeed. But I'll tell you what, Laura, if Uncle Jack does not, consent to let me go and do something for myself, I must go without his consent,' said Alden decisively. "Oh, no, no, do not do anything like thatl No good would ever come of it," said Laura, in affright. 9 page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Sister, your welfare as well as my own demands that I should try to get on in the world. But there now, don't cry I I'm not going to break away this winter, any way,"/ said Alden with a smile. "Well, rm glad of that, at all events. Something may happen before spring!"exclaimed Laura, with the hopeful- ness of youth. CHAPTER XXTI. HOW LAURA RAISED MONEY. L AURA was embarrassed also. Her shoes were all worn but. And she was wearing slippers about the house, and keeping herself within doors except in very dry weather.' She tad no money to buy a pair of shoes,.nor did she wish to: make her wants known to the impov- erished family. She was thinking of taking her pretty writing desk and work-box to Wendover, and leaving them at a fancy store to be sold on commission for whatever they might bring, and of devoting the proceeds to the pur- chase of a pair of shoes for herself and boots for Alden; but she really did not know how to manage the matter without it coming to the knowledge of John Lytton and shocking his " family\ pride." At length accident favored her. She lost or mislaid her little bunch of keys. And then she took her boxes and told "Uncle Jacky" that she wanted to go to Wendover to get keys fitted to them. And John, to whom his " dead brother's daughter's" wishes were always commands, ordered Brooks to harness the brown pony to the gig and drive the young lady to the HOW LAURA RAISBD MONET. 147 village. And then, at the last moment, Laura-thought she would take her jewel casket and dressing-case also. And she brought them out to the gig and put them under the seat. ' u A pleasant drive through the autumn woods brought her to the mountain gap in which Wendover was sit. uated. She directed Brooks to drive up to Bastian's fancy store and to hand in the boxes and leave her there to do her bus- iness, and to go himself with the gig to the Reindeer Ho- tel, to feed and water the horse, and then to return for her. In this manner Laura got rid ofa witness to her eom- mercial transactions. w She told Bastian, the fat shopman, that she wished him to have keys fitted to her boxes. And after he had prom- ised to do that, shp added that she wished himto sell them for her on commission, as they were all quite new, never having been used, "How much do you expect to get for them, Miss" in. "I don't know. Idon' t even know their first cost. They were presents to me, from friends, last Christmas,', said Laura, striving, and not in vain, to keep back the tears that were rising to her eyes. "Vell, I am a fair judge of these articles, and I should suppose they would bring from twenty to thirty dollars apiece. Indeed, this malachite casket must have cost more," said the man, critically examining the elegant toy "'We ll, " saidLa ura, I should feel quite satisfied with twenty dollars apiece for them. Perhaps, as they are quite as good as new, never hav ing been used, as I said, and as this is near the Christmas holid ays, you ma be able to dis "I will do the best I can for you, lMiss," said Bastian . a an page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 A BEAUTIFUL FIESD. "And, of course, you will have the usual commission, added Laura. Bastian bowed, and removed the boxes from the coun- ter to the shelves. And Laura stood at the door, waiting for Brooks to come with the gig to take her home. She had not long to wait. John Brooks soon drove up, and Laura bowed to the shop-keeper, who, however, gal- lantly came out and helped herinto the gig. Laura returned home much elated, for she thought that if she sold her boxes for twenty dollars each, after payp ing Bastian his liberal commission, she would still have seventy-two dollars, a large sum in Laura's present circum- stances; enough to buy boots for her brother, shoes for herself, and Christmas presents for her cousins, and to leave a little surplus to lay away. CHAFTER XXIII. "ARA8S CSRIS'TMAS GIFTS. TT was about a fortnight after this, being just three days before Christma, that old: Mrs. Lytton ordered the carryall to be- got ready to' take herself to Wendover, where she wished to make a few purchases for the holidays, and to bring them home with her. "Will you take me with you, grannie? inquired Laura, who was anxious to know the fate of her boxes. , Cour-courcourse you can go, if you want to, honey. There's roo-roo-room enough. Nobody's gwine but me and John Brooks. And we an't a gwi-gwi-gwine to bring nothig-back but some tea and coffee and sugar, and a bag "AURA'S CHRISTMAS GIFTS.. 149 o' salt. So get your bon-bon-bonnet and shawl, and come along," the old lady stammered good-humoredly. Laura was soon ready, and seatedby the side of Mrs. Lytton, in the carryall. And they started to drive through the woods to Wendover. The trees were now entirely bare of leaves, and the ground was covered with snow; but the day was clear and bright, and the air fresh and bracing, so the drive was a pleasant one. When they reached the village, they drew up before the grocery store kept by Mr. Clove. Old Mrs. Lytton and Laura alighted. The old lady went into the store, but Laura walked a short distance down the street to the fancy shop where she had left her boxes for sale. Bastian came forward to meet her. "Well, Miss, I have sold them all," he said with a smile. "Oh, indeed; I am very glad!" exclaimed Laura. "Yes; and the curious part of it is, that I sold each box secretly to a different member of the same family." "Yes?" "Yes, indeed. First came Governor Cavendish, who is down tokeep Christmas at Grey Cliffs. 'Bastian, have you anything suitable for a Christmas present for a young lady?' he asked. And I took down the malachite casket. 'The very thing,' said he. And he bought it on the spot and took it away with him." "So that went first," said Laura. "Yes. Next day came old Madam Cavendish. And said she, 'Bastian, I'm looking for what I can't find in a country town, I'm afraid. I'm looking for an elegant work- box.' Down I took your papier-mach box and set it be- fore her. She was delighted with it, and looked no further." "And that was the next to go," said Laura. page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "It was. Well, and yesterday came tMrs. Wesley, and said she, 'Bastian, I'm in a quandary. I wish to find some- thing really worth offering to my niece. I don't know what to get in this place. Everything is so cheap and common.' I took down your ivory dressing-case. 'Oh!' she exclaimed, with a gasp of delight, 'how ever did you come to have such an elegant thing on hand? Did you ever expect to sell it here. And she purchased it imme, diatel ." "And that was the third sale." "Yes. And now for the last. As you came into the village, you might have met a young lady on a white horse in a blue-cloth riding-dress?" "No, I never saw a horse in a blue-cloth riding-dress in all my life," said Laurt solemnly. Bastian corrected/himself. "A young lady y a blue-cloth riding-dress, on a white horse, and attended/by a groom." "Oh, yes; I acknowledge the young lady." "That was Mps Em(a;Cavendish. She had just left this store, havin iased your rosewood and pearl writing desk, which was the parcel her groom was carry- ing before him." "So that was the last sale." "That was the last. And now for a settlement. Let me see. Sold malachite basket for thirty-five dollars, papier- machM work-box for twenty, ivory dressing-case for thirty, and rosewood and pearl writing desk for twenty-five, mak- ing altogether one hundred and ten dollars; and deducting ten dollars for my commission, I hand you over just one hundred dollars, Miss, even money--which is what I aimed at in setting the prices, and which I hope meets your ,views." "It more than meets them," said Laura delightedly, as "AURA'S CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 151 she received the money, "I thank you very much, Mr. Bas- tian," she added. And then, before leaving the store,lshe bought two dolls for Octy and Ulky, a large coffee cup and saucer for Uncle Jacky, a four bladed Sheffield penknife for Charley, a work basket for Aunt Kitty, and lastly some cheap toys for the little negro children. These articles cost -her but twenty dollars, so she came out of the store with eighty left in her pocket, and followed by a shop boy, who brought all her purchases to the carryall, and packed them under the seats for her. Old Mrs. Lytton was still in the grocery store, making her purchases. And Laura had not yet concluded hers; for she went into a drygoods store, and bought two stout black alpaca dresses for Mrs. Lytton and Miss Molly Moss, and bright-colored head handkerchiefs for each of the negro women, and flaming red or yellow pocket handkerchiefs for the negro men. Then she went into a shoe store and bought boots for Alden, and gaiters for herself. - All these purchases she succeeded in stowing away under the seats; and she took her own place in the carriage before her aged companion came out of the grocery store. "Kept you waiting, honey, didn't I?" inquired the old lady, as she made her appearance, followed by the grocer's young man, with his arms full of paper parcels. "Well; you see it do take a time to look at things, and pick and choose so as to get the best you can for the least money,. which one is obleged to do when times is so sca'ce. Now, young man," she said, turning to the shopman who attend- ed her, "you jest put all them things 'inter the bottom o' the carriage, and help me up inter my seat. Thanky'. Good- by," she added, as the shopman, after assisting her, stood bowing in the shop door "i page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 eA BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "N'ow, John Brooks, whip up your horses and make 'em travel-; for it's late, and we've got a long ways to go. And, Lord! an'tit cold? And it's getting-colder everJy minute. What a night it's a gwine to be! I always think of that poor girl at the light-house on such a night as this. Think of her having to go at midnight all the way from the cottage to the tower, to feed and trim the lamp at the top of it," said Mrs. Lytton, as she gathered her large black shawl closely around her and prepared to face the cold blast. Apparently the horses were as anxious to get home as their mistress, for they went with a will, and soon passed over the ground that lay between Wendover and Lytton Lodge. It was growing dark with clouds- as well as with the gathering shades of night, as the old carryall rolled into the yard and drew up before the door. "Uncle Jacky," came out of the house to help his mother from the carriage. "It's coming on to snow. I'm glad you've got home, mother," said John Lytton, as he carefully assisted the old lady to alight, and-then began to take the parcels of pro- visions from the carriage. "I'm thankful myself. I was afraid of getting caught in the storm," said the old lady.- "Sit where you are, Lolly, I'll come back for you when I have taken mother and her bundles in," hallooed John from the door. "La I Uncle Jacky, I can help myself out, I reckon, if I am a good-for-nothing city girl," laughed Laura. And as soon as her grandmother and uncle had dis- appeared in the house, Laura turned to the driver and said: "Oh, John Brooks, do help me to get; my parcels into the house without any one seeing them, I don't' mind tell- "AeURA'S CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 153 ing you; but they are Christmas gifts for the family, and I don't want anybodlyo see them until Christmas morning. you know. Now do be quick! O dear, it's too late'l Here comes Uncle Jacky for me." John Brooks, delighted at being taken into the young lady's confidence, grinned and hastily whispered: "Nem-mind, Miss. You go long o' Marse Jaeky. I'll get these here up into your room, and nobody none the wiser." "STot even Mandy or Calline, John?" "Hi, Miss Laura, who you think fool enough to tell them blabbering niggers? Not John Brooks!" "Come, Laura," 'said Uncle Jacky, lifting his niece bodily from the carryall. "Run up stairs now, and take off your hat and cloak quicker-than you ever did any'thing in your life' Supper's on the table, and mother's perishing for a cup of hot tea after her cold drive. " Laura ran up to her room, took off her hat, gloves and wrappings, and then ran down stairs into the sitting-room, where she found the great roaring hickory fire in the broad fireplace, the large round table set for supper, and all the family waiting for her. "Come and sit round here by the fire, child. You haven't had a chance to thaw yourself out, I know," said Aunt Kitty kindly, as she placed a chair at the warmest side of the table for the half-frozen girl. The meals at Lytton Lodge were always cheerful, and often merry. "Day after to-morrow is Christmas-day l" exclaimed Octy, announcing the fact as a new discovery. - "And Charley have promised to make us a -sledge for a Christmas gift," added Ulky. "And al trap to catch snow-birds," said Octy. "I nev-nev-never knew Christmas to be so sca'ce," said .\ page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. old Mrs. Lytton, by no means in a grumbling mood, but on the contrary, in a cheerful, explanatory manner. "It's too- too-took nearly all the money I had to buy the groceries. And pri-pri-prices was so high; which 'pears to me the scarcer money is, the more things costs. And. this is the sca-sca-sca'cest Christmas as ever I did see." ' How can you say that, mother? Times is. no sca'cer now than they always was," said Aunt Kitty, laughing. "But, child, I did wa-wa-want to get a stout calico gownd for me and Molly, which them we wear n'ow for every day is wo-wo-wore to cobwebs, and won't hardly bear to go into the wash-tub once more. Hows'ever, let's thank the Lord we are. all alive, and be contented,/ she added cheerfully. And then how glad Laura felt at the thought of the stout, serviceable black alpaca dresses that she had bought for her kind and self-denying old friends; only-she fore- boded, that according to their economical instincts, they would think these dresses too good for everyday wear, and so bury them deep in the bottom of their " big chists," the sacred receptacles of all their most cherished treasures. As soon as tea was over Laura stole away up to her room, to see if John Brooks had kept his promise and conjured her parcels thither. She found them all piled up in a corner of the room. She made haste and opened her trunk, took out her dresses to make room, and locked up her presents in it. Then she hung up her dresses around the room, osten- sibly "for an airing," as she told her little room-mates when they came up to bed. CrAPTER XXTV. GLIDING SPIRITS OF CHRISTMAS EVE. THE next day was spent by old Mrs. Lytton in the kitchen, where; assisted by her handmaids, she was busily engaged in making pies and cakes for Christmas. So when evening came, and the family were gathered around the great wood fire in the sitting-room, keeping Christmas eve over a bowl of egg-nog and a basket of mixed cakes, the old lady declared herself to be "fairly fagged out." "Who's for church to-morrow morning?" inquired Cousin Charley. "I want to know, so I may tell John Brooks to-night." "Yes, who?" also inquired Uncle Jacky; "because, if all the family's going, we'll have to rig up the long wagon." "I don't see it, Jacky! And we don't want to show off at church on Christmas-day in the farm wagon. The X carryall will carry us six females, and you too, if you will sit in the driver's seat and drive. A nd surely the two boys can ride the brown pony and the bay mare. And as for the darkeys, if any of them want to go, they may just rig up the ox cart, which will take a dozen of them," sug- gested Mrs. John Lytton. "Calline and Mandy and John Brooks can go, but Oassy and Bob will have to stay home and mind the hoone and cook dinner," added old Mrs. Lytton. "Well, I don't see but what all that's a first-chop plan," (1^5) page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. said good-natured John, draining, and then refilling his glass. "Jacky, you're taking, more egg-nog than is good for you," objected his wife. "'Well, Kitty, this is the last," replied John, tilting up the ibowl to show her its emptiness. "And thank goodness, it is. And now let's go to bed. Children, don't forget to hang up your stockings," said their mother. "You bet we won't!" exclaimed Miss Octy, speaking for herself and her sister. And so the family circle separated for the night. When the three girls reached their rooms up stairs, Octy and Ulky went to the old-fashioned chest of drawers where they kept their clothing, and they each picked out the largest pair of stockings in their possession, and hung them up, not exactly in the chimney down which Santa Claus was expected to come, but on each side of the broad replace. "Now hang up your stockings. Oh, do, Lolly! You don't know what Santa Claus might put in them," coun- selled Octy. And Laura, to please the children, hung up one of her stockings. "Oh! do, please, hang up both stockings, like we do!" urged Ulky. Laura complied. "And now," said Octy, as they got into bed, "we mean to lay awake all night and watch for Santa Claus." "Yes, so we will," agreed Ulky. "Cause we've never set eyes on Santa Claus yet! And I'd a heap leifer see him than a show, any time." This was dismaying intelligence to Laura, who had cal- culated on watching until the -children should go to asleep, aLIDING SPIRITS, ETC. 157 and then getting up to slip the doll babies into their stock- ings. However the little eyes, watch as they might for an hour, afterwards gradually succumbed, and closed in a sleep that was all the deeper for their long resistance. Then Laura arose softly from her bed, and went and unlocked her trunk, and took the dolls and slipped them into the little girls' stockings. She took the boots she had bought for her brother, and put her card with his name on it in one-of them, and went and set them outside of his door. She laid the two parcels containing the alpaca dresses at the door of the. room jointly occupied by Mrs. Lytton and Miss Molly. , She crept down into the dining-room, where the table was set for breakfast, and she placed the handsome cup and saucer upon her Uncle Jacky's plate, and the Sheffield pen- knife. under Charley's. And on -her Aunt Kitty's own especial work-table she set the capacious work-basket. Then she came back to her room and got softly into bed, and being very tired with her watching, soon fell fast asleep. Very fast asleep she must have been indeed, not to have seen or heard the mysterious-visitor who glided in,A bearing a dimly lighted taper, which she put down upon the chest of drawers, while sshe softly stepped about the room, stopping here and there and making motions, like a witch at her incantations. After which she silently glided from the chamber, carrying away the light. page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] CHAPTER - XXV. CHRISTMAS AT THE FARLM. Well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had roll'd, And brought blithe Christmas back again, With all his hospitable train. Domestic and religious rite Gave honor to the holy night. On Christmas Eve the bells were rung, On Christmas Eve the hymn was sung, The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen, The hall was deck'd with holly green. Sm WALTER SCOTT. T AURA was awakened early on that Christmas morn. ing by the noisy ecstasies of the two little girls, who had got out of their bed and found their well-filled stock- ings, and were now rejoicing uproariously over them. "Oh, Lolly! look here, do! What a splendid doll -baby! And Ully's got one just like it,-only mine is dressed in blue silk and Ully's in red. And we've got lots of sugar-candy too!" exclaimed Octy, exultingly displaying her treasures. "And here's your stockings full up to the top too, dear Lolly I An't you glad we 'suaded you to hang 'em up?" cried loving little Ulky, carrying Laura's black hose to the bedside. Laura kissed the child, and began to examine the con- tents of the stockings, wondering that she should have got presents at all, in a family that was so poor. She did not know that love is always rich enough to give. The gifts that she received were two pairs of long, soft (158) CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 159 white lamb's-wool hose, such as could not be bought in the shops at any price, for they were home-knit, and she knew that they must have been presents from old Mrs. Lytton and Miss Xolly Moss, for she now remembered having seen both those old ladies knitting that sort of stockings all through the fall; then there was a pair of fine black silk gloves lined with Angolawool, which Laura correctly be- lieved to be the gift of Aunt Kitty; a curious needle-case, pin-box and scissors sheath carved from bone by the cun- ning hands of Cousin Charley, who was an adept in the art; and lastly a small vial of otto of roses, probably Uncle Jacky's offering. Tears of grateful love filled the orphan's eyes. She was so glad now that she had sold her boxes to provide'love- tokens for those who had lovingly wrought for her. "Oh, get up and dress, Laura, do! And let's go down stairs and show our gifts, and see what the others have got. Do I " said Octy impatiently. And Laura sprang out, of bed and dressed herself as quickly as possible, while a disturbance of another kind arose out in the passage. It was made by Alden and Charley, who were hammer. ing at the door with fists and feet, and vociferating at the top of their voices: "Christmas gift! Christmas gift, girls! Come, out with you! Hurry up! Hurrah-ah-ah for Christmas l" "Oh, make haste, Lolly, or they'll beat the door down " exclaimed Ulky. And Laura put the last touches to her simple toilet by buttoning her white linen cuffs, and then went and opened the door. She was instantly caught in the arms of her rough Cousin Charley, who gave her a tight hug and a hearty hiss-for Christmas; while Alden chased the two little girls down page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. the hall, to catch them and give them a like salute. So, in a noisy, joyous tumult, they all ran, tumbling over each other, down stairs into the "big parlor," which, in the earlier and more prosperous days of the family, had been called the "long drawing-room,"'?where, in honor of the day, all the old family portraits that hung about the walls, as well as the long dim looking-glass that leaned from the mantle-piece, were decorated with holly; and where a roar- ing fire of hickory wood had been lighted. In the middle of the floor stood John Lytton, presid. ing over a steaming bowl of hot egg-nog; for it was the barbarous custom of this neighborhood to commence the festivities of the day in this manner. With him stood his wife, mother and aunt, all in their Sunday clothes, for they were going to church. There were more merry Christmas greetings, and then old Mrs. Lytton caught hold of Laura's hand and(kissed her, and being more than usually moved, stammered worse than ever as she said: "You do-do-do-do too much for me% child. You're too- too-too good to us. -Now hush, don't say a word, 'cause I know-know-know-know it was y/ou as bought them leauti- ful black allerpacker gownds for me and Molly; though where you ever could a got so much mon- But that an't polite of me," added the old lady, correcting herself. "And just look here, what she laid at my door," said Alden, putting his well-shaped feet together and displaying his shining new boots. "I say Lolly has. found a mine somewhere!" "Fairies I!" answered Laura, laughing. "Come now. We have been waiting for you young- sters long enough. Come and be helped. Here, mother," said John Lytton, filling an old battered silver goblet with foaming egg-nog and passing it to the old lady. CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 161 "La, John, if I drin-drin-drink all this, it will get into my head," she said. "Mother's drank her Christmas morning egg-nog out'n that there goblet every Christmas for fifty year, and always makes the same remark. A mere matter of form," John explained, as he filled a small glass tumbler and handed it to Laura: "Indeed, Uncle Jacky I'm afraid of it;- before break- fast too," pleaded the young girl, shrinking. "And that's your formula," nodded Uncle Jacky, as he proceeded to fill the glasses. "Grandma, I thank you and Aunt Molly very much for the nice lamb's-wool stockings you knit for me; for I know they were your own work, and I could not get such good ones anywhere," Laura found the opportunity of saying. "Fid-fid-fiddlestick, child! They're well enough, and the best we had to offer now, when ti-ti-times is so scarce; but-they an't nothink to your presents. Lord knows where you got the mon- But that's not polite," answered the old lady, again correcting herself. "Halloo, Charley! If you've got through with your. egg-nog, just go to the front door and blow the horn for the niggers to come up and get their Christmas dram," ex- claimed John Lytton, setting down the goblet that he had drained. "Lord, John, what-what-what-what have we got to give the poor niggers, now times is so sca'ce?" inquired poor old Mrs. Lytton, stammering as usual when disturbed. "A hearty 'Merry Christmas!' if nothing else, mother I But I guess there's enough of this nog left to give the wo- men a little glass all round. And I reckon a sip of some of your home-made peach brandy an't a going to hurt the men for once in a year. BLOW 'EM ALL UP, MY BOY!" exclaimed John Lytton. page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. And Charley took the horn and went to the front door, and blew a blast that the poor negroes understood well enough, for they came trooping up to the house-men, women and children, boys and girls, all wearing joyous and expectant faces, and all crying out: "Christmas gif', Marse Jackyl Christmas gif', ole Missess Christmas gif', chillun 1" "Hush your bawling, and come along and get it!" roared John Lytton. And they trooped into the porch, and into the hall. And John ladled out the remains of the egg-nog to the women, while old Mrs. Lytton gave a sip of her peach brandy to each -of the men, all of whom wished "Ole Missess and young. Marse, and young Missess and de chil- lun, merry Christmas, and many of'em." And rhile all this was going on among the men and women, Laura took pity on the little negroes, who were standing staring at the "treat" as good naturedly as if they were sharing it, and she ran up to her room and brought from its hiding-place her bundle of candies and cheap toys, which she immediately began to distribute to the children. And then there was clamor and wild delight, as if an infant Bedlam had broken loose.- They danced and skip- ped and screamed, and waved their trophies in the air. "Halloo! what the deuce is thq matter with the young ones? Charley, Charley, get your horn and BLOW 'EM DOWN!" vociferated John Lytton, holding his ears. "It's all Lau-Lau-Laura's doings. Though where on the face of the yeth she ever got the- But that's not polite," explained the old lady. And to her further surprise, Laura produced a bundle of gay dry goods, and gave a bright red or yellow pocket handkerchief to each man and boy, who received the gift with a bow and a broad grin; and then a brilliant plaid or * '- - ^ CHRISTM J AT THE BARM. 163 flowered head handkerchief to each Woman and girl, who took it with a smile and a courtesy. "There, now; that will do I Three cheers for Christ- mas, and then off with you!" bawled John Lytton. And amid the "HOORAYS" of the delighted darkeys, honest John shut the hall- door, and led the way in to breakfast. The family were poor enough in money, but their Christmas breakfast, for the variety, excellence and abundance of its viands, might well have been the envy of a wealthy epicure. The coffee, cream, bread and butter, the first essentials for a good breakfast, could not have .been sur- passed. Then they had chickens from the farm-yard, game from the forest, and oysters from the river. And above all, they had John Lytton, with his jubilant good spirits. "Halloo! My eye! what's that?" said John, lifting the gorgeous blue and gold cup and saucer that stood by his plate, and then reading the inscription, in gold letters,' for a good boy.' That's me If I ain't a good boy--yes, one of the best of boys, I'd like to form the acquaintance of the better one. So it's for me. But, who gave it? You6, mother?" "Now-now-now-now, John Lytton," stammered the old lady, "you know, I ha'n't got no money to heave away on fancy cups; and times so sca'ce too. It's Laura, there's who it is. Tho-ugh where on the face of the yeth she-- But never minds Help to them fried oysters, John. Uncle Bob he got themn fresh from the Perch Point Banks yester- day morning." "So you g ve me this, Laura, did you? Well, I de- clare! Thank you, honey. Mother, give me my coffee in this cup; and after Christmas I will put it away, and only keep it for higi days and holidays." page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 164 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. At; this moment Charley drew his handkerchief fi-rom his pocket, when out fell something that rattled down upon the floor. He looked astonished, and stooped and picked it up. It was a four-bladed Sheffield penknife, with a tortoise shell handle. "Hurrah I Just the thing I was longing for. I wonder who put that in my pocket?" exclaimed Master Charley, looking'from one face to another around the table. "Laura! Who else should it be? No, no-nobody's got any money to heave away, except 'tis Laura. Though where- But never mind," said old. Mrs. Lytton, whose curiosity was deeply excited as to the Source of Laura's wealth. Shyly and awkwardly, though sincerely enough, Char- ley thanked Cousin Laura for her useful present. The breakfast was prolonged until at length old Mrs. Lytton got up saying: "Who ever's gwine to church to-day had better get ready, because the carryall will be at the door directly." All arose from the table. In leaving the room, Mrs. John Lytton happened to pass close by her work-stand in the corner. She -aw the nice new work-basket for the first time. She caught it up and looked at it. "How pretty and convenient this is! I never saw so good a basket. Whose is it? Yours, Laura?" she inquired. "It is yours, dear Aunt Kitty, if you will please to ac- cept it;- and I am very glad you like it," answered the young, girl. ' For me? O you good child!" exclaimed Mrs. Kitty, kissing her niece. "But, Laura, honey, you must have rob- bed yourself very much to give us all: these things," she added deprecatingly. "No, indeed," said Laura laughingly, as she ran out of CHRISTMAS AT THE/ FARM. 165 the room. In the hall she passed by the old lady, who was putting on her gloves and muttering to herself, t Though where on the face of the yeth, she did get the money from, when times is so sca'ce, is more than I can tell." "Grandma," said Laura, laughing, "if you will never, never, never tell Uncle John, I will tell you how I got the money." "Why-why-why don't you want John to know?" stam- mered the old lady, in vague alarm. a "Because he is so ridiculously proud, Heaven bless him I Now stoop down here, and I'll whisper to you." And the old lady bent down her ear and heard the story of Laura's commercial transactions. "Lor!" she exclaimed, in comic surprise. "Do you think I did wrong?" "No, you did right. You've got a heap more sense than John. He'd be for getting on fiis high horse, if he knowed-you'd done sich a sensible thing. And now, honey run and put on your bonnet, quick." Laura hurried up stairs, and soon returned dressed in hat, cloak, and sable furs, relics of her richer days. All the other women and children were in the carryall. And Uncle Jacky stood by, ready to help Laura up to a seat among them. Uncle Jacky and the two boys rode saddle horses. And John Brooks drove the carryall. " page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] CHAPTER i Xx Vl. CRAVENI KTiE. A ND so the cavalcade started to church. On the road they overtook, or were overtaken or joined by other families in carriages or on horseback, all going the same way. And-many cheerful Christmas greet- ings were exchanged. And in due time they reached the old-fashioned church, that stood a little out of the village. The church-yard was like a winter grove; for now all the trees were bare and the ground was covered with snow. Vehicles of every sort, and saddle horses, and even mules, were standing under the trees. And the little church within was crowded. The services were already commenced when our party entered their pew. But then they had had a long way to come. Laura noticed that Governor Cavendish and his family were in their handsome crimson .damask lined pew. She thought that the Governor looked haggard, careworn, and even aged, since she had'seen him last. All this she ob- served involuntarily in passing, and then she concentrated her attention upon the services, and would not permit her eyes or thoughts to wander until after the benediction had been pronounced. As the congregation were going out, old Mrs. Lytton pulled, Laura's arm and whispered: (166) CRAVEN KYTE. 167 'I want you to look at that 'oman-that one in the- black silk gown and red meriny shawl and black velvet bonnet. She's Mrs. Fanning, the landlady of the White Perch Point Hotel; She was the only sister of the Gov- ernor's wife, and one of the greatest beauties in the country she was, about seventeen year ago. But she went and hev herself away on to that good for nothing Fred Fanning. And her family cast her off, and now see what she has come to! She an't had nothing but bad luck ever since. And lust about a year ago her darter--'like mother like darter,' yiu know-her darter, which was at boarding-school in th& city-and I never did approve of sending gals away fro mnrome to get their eddication among strangers-.well, her/darter, only fifteen year old last July, 'loped away from sdhool with some Igw-life fellow or other, and, far as I can hear, an't never been seen nor- yet heard on from that day to this. Her pappy, Fred Fanning, he went up to the city when he heard the news; but he come back without his darter, and looking just like death." "Yes, grandma, I know. I heard about all that. And I saw both Mr. and Mrs. Fanning when we stopped for a night at White Perch Point," said Laura. "Oh, yes, to be sure; I: forgot.!' "And I thought they both looked crazed with grief, and as if something much "worse than death had happened in their family," murmured Laura compassionately, as her eyes turned again on the beautiful dark face of the unhappy woman. a But by this time they were all out of the church, and everybody was seieking his or her carriage, cart, horse, or mule, as the case might be. John Brooks the man came up with the carryall. John Lytton the master was about to hand his mother into her seat, page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Stop-stop-stop, John? Hold on! Don't let the horses start till I get in. They're allers in sich a hurry when they know. they're going home," cried the old lady nervously. "Now, mother, which John are you talking to? John master or John man? Laura, it is the plague of my life that I and my man bear the same name I! And it's all owing to my nurse, who, when I was two years old, had a babyboy, whom she did me the doubtful honor of naming after me. It is the source of endless misunderstandings and incon- 'veniences. For instance: we are all at work in the field master and men. Well, mother suddenly wants one of us; goes to the door and blows the horn to attract atten- tion, and then using it as a speaking-trumpet, vociferates, JOHN!' Now who's to know what John she means?" - solemnly inquired Mr. Lytton, as he handed Kitty, Laura and the little girls into the carryall. The drive home was as pleasant as the drive to church. Onty that, when the carryall had got a little way on the road, old Mrs. Lytton perceived that the squad of three rhorsemen, consisting of John Lytton; Charley and Alden, that had accompanied the carryall to church, was now in- creased to nine, the additional six being named by the old lady: "Tom, Dick and Harry; Tag, Rag and Bobtail. Which I do believe, Kitty, as John have invited of 'em all home to dinner l" "John will do as he pleases, mother! And it's no use to say one word," said Mrs. John, between a smile and a sigh. "Who be they then, any way, as he has along of him?" inquired the widow; adding, "You've got younger eyes'n me to see with." "Well, mother, there's Bastian, the fancy store man' and .there's that young Craven Kyte, the salesman in: Pop lin's dry goods store." R AVEN .KXYT E. 169 "Two-two-two-two men as nobodylknows nothing about, and never ought to have been invited to our house, espe- cially that Craven Kyte, which John ought to be ashamed of hisself to have anything to do with him, after all as has' been said!" cried the old lady. "Mother, perhaps it is because of all that has-been said, that John does invite the poor young fellow!" "You do-do-do-do-don't believe as John believes it?" "No, mother, I don't. But whether John believes it or not, or whether it be true or not, John does right in taking friendly notice of the poor boy. For if the story be true, then Craven has quite as, great a claim of relationship on us as Alden and Laura has. If its be false, then -he has as great a claim of indemnification from us for the injustice'he has suffered in having his name connected so unfortunately with ours." "Bless the woman! Don't preach! I ha'n't got nothing against the young man personally, only people saying as he is my poor, dear dead Henry's own-" "Hush, mother, for Heaven's sake!" whispered Mrs. John Lytton, glancing at Laura. "s Well, there, I have done I But- I don't like his com- ing, that's all. Who be the others?" "I don't know them, mother. They are too far behind for me to recognize them," said Mrs. John. And then they drove on in silence, Laura wondering what the ill report could be that connected the name of the young shopman with that of her deceased father, and feel- ing a curiosity to see Craven Kyte. Presently old Mrs. Lytton's fear of having two large a company to dinner was abated. For-at the Cross Roads, four of the cavalcade took leave-two going off to the right and two to the left; while. two, Bastian and Kyte, came on with John Lytton and his boys. page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 A BEAUTIPUL FIEND. "There, thauk goodness, we'll only have a couple of outsiders, afer all"I said the widow, much relieved. "Oh, you inhospitable Christianl " exclaimed Mrs. Kit. ty, laughing. "I know I am, honey; but I can't help it, times is so scace." The horsemen struck into a narrow bridle path, that cut off a considerable portion of the distance between Wendover and Lytton. So that when the carryall reach- ed the house and drew up before the front door, there stood John Lytton, the two boys and the two guests to receive them. Laura looked toward the two guests. The elder of theses Bastian, the fancy-store keeper, she knew very well. The other one she had never seen. And now, at first sight, she was struck and almost confounded by the very extraordinary likeness young Kyte bore to her deceased father, and also to her only brother. While she was stand- ing staring in amazement, she was suddenly brought to her senses by the, abruptness of John Lytton saying bois- terously: "Hullo, Lolly! Here's a beau I've been -and brought you. Mr. Craven Kyte, Miss Laura Lytton!" The young man raised his hat, and bowed with much politeness. Laura returned the bow. And then the young man' was civilly welcomed by the other members of the family. Dinner was already on the table. And no one, to have seen the rich and abundant feast' to which the Christ- mas party sat down, would ever have believed that there were any grounds for old Mrs. Lytton's perpetual com- plaint, "Times is so sca'ce." The Christmas-day was spent pleasantly. In the even- ing other visitors dropped in, and the night closed merrily. CHAPTER XXV" ONE SATURDAY NIGHT. tTHE next day happened to be Saturday. Now Satur- 1. day morning was always devoted by old Mrs. Lytton -to the domestic duty of clearing up house; and Saturday evening was always consecrated to the pious work of teach- ing the little negro children their catechism. On this particular Saturday evening old Mrs. Lytton had about half a dozen of little imps, from four years old to seven, gathered around her hearth in her own bedroom. She was teaching them verbally, for not one of them could read. Laura came in and witnessed a strange scene. Adam; son of John Brooks, was the youngest child present. He was scarcely four years old, and had never been to catechism class before. Now he stood up before, his mistress, feeling both proud and shy. "Now, Ad, take your fingers out of your hair and speak up like a man, and Jet Miss Laura hear how well you will learn your catechism." , Es'm., "That's you I Now then, ' Wio made you?" "Ole Marse," promptly answered the little one. SLAP! fell the hand of the old lady upon the cheek of -her pupil, and she said to the howling child: "There! that's to lar-lar-larn you not to give such foolish answers! It's for your own good, and you ought to thank me for doing of it. Stop bawling now, and listen while I tell you who made you." (171) page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. The child being duly instructed upon that point, then 4 ame the next. "Now hold up your head and listen." "Es'm." "What did the Lord make you for . " "'To pick cotton," sobbed the child. SLAP I fell the ready hand again, as the old lady said: i"No, sir; ' to serve Him.'" "'To serve Him,'" sobbed the child. "Now stop bawling, and listen to me. It's all for your own good. You ought to be thankful. You-you see how I have to beat it inter 'em, Laura. Now, you little fool you!" said the instructress. But before she could put another question, John Lytton entered the room in a state of considerable excitement, exclaiming: "I say, mother, here's a go!" "For-for-for the Lord's sake, John, what is it?" stam- mered the old lady, starting up in alarm. t"Oh, it's nothing bad. It's a letter." "A letter!" "Yes. Come in the parlor. You too, Laura, for it concerns you also. You see, Craven Kyte happened to be at the post-office at Wendover this morning, and the post- master told him as this letter had been waiting there a week, and might wait a month before it was taken out, because we very seldom came near the post-office; and so young Kyte asked if he could not bring it over. And the postmaster trusted it to him. And do you think that young man hasn't rode all the way from Wendover, to do us the favor of fetching our letter. He must sleep here to-night, and have an early breakfast to-morrow morning before he goes back." "Course the boy must. But what on the :ce of the ONE SATURDAY NIGH-T. 173 yeth is the letter about? And that anybody should ever write ts a letteri1" muttered the widow, as, with Laurai she followed John Lytton into the parlor. , "Wait till I sit down and fetch my breathe" answered John. The old lady greeted young Kyte with unusual kind- ness, thanked him for the trouble he had taken, and then settled herself to listen to the letter. "Hem-m-m! It's from a city clergyman, and here it is," said John, clearing his throat and commencing to read: "To. JOHN LYTTON, ESQ.--Dear Sir: I have received a letter from a correspondent who desires to remain un- known for the present, inclosing a check for five hundred dollars, drawn in my favor, but to be applied to the use of Alden and Laura, heirs of the late Henry Lytton. I have indorsed the check and made it payable to the order of Alden Lytton. But the money must be equally shared with his sister. Please acknowledge this by return mail. "Respectfully yours, "STEPHEN LYE." "And sure enough, here's the check!" said John Lyt- ton, when he had finished the letter. The check was passed around for inspection. "Well, now, if this don't beat all!" exclaimed the widow. "And an't it in good time!" cried Mrs. John. "Hush; honey. I never had half as much money as that in all my life," chimed- in Miss Molly. "Whip your horsesl An't you and Lolly rich?" cried Charley. '. "And you can buy everything in the world," said Octy. "'And, oh, Lolly! now you can go to school; only I shall cry my eyes out when you are gone," said Ulky, putt. ting her head in her favorite's lap. page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "I think the letter should -be answered immediately," modestly suggested Craven Kyte. But no one seemed to hear him. All were too much absorbed in the contemplation of the mystery of the money. Alden remained thoughtfully standing by the fire, with his elbow on the, corner of the mantel-piece and his head on his hand-the only silent member of the party. "Who can it possibly be that has sent this money to you, Alden?" inquired John Lytton, looking up from the open letter and drawing his bushy red eyebrows together. i'I have not the slightest idea, Uncle John. Some wealthy man whom my father has befriended, probably," answered the youth gravely. "Have you any no-no-no-no-notion, Laura?" inquired the old lady. "Not the least, grandma," replied the girl. 4 "May be some one owed him money, and takes this way to pay it," suggested Mrs. John. 4 Or some one as he went security for,'" murmured Miss Molly. ("Or a client as he won a lawsuit for, with a sight of money in it," put in Master Charley. "Well, we must wait and see. In the course of time we shall know, I' s'pose," concluded John Lytton, folding the letter. "In the mean time lei me suggest that the letter should be answered as soon as possible. It has already lain in the post-office several days, while the writer has, no doubt suf- fered much anxiety for the fate of the endorsed check," again counselled young Craven Kyte. "That's so," salid John sententiously. "And let's see I What o'clock is it now?" "It's just six," answered Laura, after consulting her lit- tle watch. ONE SA TURDAY NIGHT. 175 "And there's a mail goes out at midnight. I might have time to write and send the letter by John Brooks, so as to catch that mail," said John Lytton, scratching his red head. "There's no need of that, sir. I shall be going back in an hour's time, and I will take it," said young Kyte. " You go back to-night I Not if I know it," exclaimed John, while the women all chimed in with a storm of opposition. / Young Kyte waited until it had subsided, and then quietly answered: "I thank you very much, but I have to sleep in Mr. Poplin's store every night to guard it. I'am on a few hours' leave only, and I promised Mr. Poplin to be back by eleven certainly. So write your lFter, Mr. Lytton, and give me the pleasure of posting it." John Lytton and all the family expressed their regret that they should so quickly lose their guest. And then they thankfully accepted his offer to take the letter. And while John Lytton with difficulty got his scattered writing materials together, and sat down to a side table, laboriously to compose his answer to the clergyman's let- ter, Mrs. Kitty prepared refreshments for their guest. And a few minutes after seven o'clock, Craven Kyte took leave of the family, mounted his horse and set out to ride to Wendover, carrying the letter in his pocket. On the following Monday, Alden Lytton went to Wen- dover and cashed his check. Laura was, to receive half the money. So when he re- turned to the farm-house, he put two hundred and fifty dollars in his sister's hands. Much consultation then ensued as to how this capital was to be invested. Laura and Alden were both generously desirous of page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. dividing it with the family who had sheltered them. But not one of the domestic circle would consent to that. Then the brother and sister did a generous, foolish deed. They went to Wendover and spent a large proportion of their money in buying staple dry goods and groceries for the use of the household. And when these purchases were brought into the house, old Mrs. Lytton cried and scolded, and Mrs. John expostulated, and Miss Molly groaned; but it was too late to prevent the donation now. The articles were bought and paid for, and there was nothing to be done but to keep them hidden away from John Lyttom's sight, since that worthy, if he had known of the transac- tion, would have raved about his dead brother's children thinking it necessary to make any return of that sort -for the care-that had been bestowed upon them; and talked about his gray hairs being brought down, et cetera. "But nowj poor Alden, what becomes of your college scheme? I was so in hopes that you would consent to take my share of the money and go to Williamsburg," said Laura, when the brother and sister found themselves alone together. "Never mind, Laura. I really could not -see the kind women want for good tea and coffee and white sugar, or for tight waterproof boots and comfortable wraps-any more than you could, my dear. But I have ordered some books from the city, which I will pay for with a part of the money. And I can study at home these long winter nights." "Bless you, dearest you deserve to get on, and you will do so," said the sister. She also afterward sent for some books from the city, for the use of herself and her little cousins. And the youth and maiden spent the winter in helping the family with the farm and house work, in teaching their THE UN-KNOWN BENEFACTOR. 1" ignorant young relatives, and in reading and studying for their own intellectual advancement. CHAPTER XXV111. \ THE UNKINOWN BENEFACTOR. Unequal fortune Made me his debtor for some courtesies, Which bind the good more firmly.-BYRON. PLEASANTLY passed the winter and the spring at the farm-house. Nothing more was heard from the Rev. Mr. Lyle concerning the secret friend of Alden and Laura Lytton until, one Saturday evening early in June, when all the family were sitting out on the piazza in fiont of their house, enjoying the balmy fragrance of the air, a horseman rode up and drew rein under the great horse- chestnut tree. "Why, it is Mr. Craven Kyte!" exclaimed Mrs. John, recognizing the visitor. Mr. Kyte dismounted and tied his horse to a hook in the trunk of the tree, and walked to the. house. "I have brought you a letter from the post-office. It has not been left so long in its box as the former one. It came only this morning. Here it is,"' he said pleasantly, as he handed the letter to John Lytton. "Thank you. How do you do? Thank you very much indeed. Pray take a seat. Have you had supper?" said John, taking the letter, and shaking hands cordially with the visitor, while the other members of the family also came forward to welcome him. "Well, I'm blessed! It's another letter firom Parson Lyle" exclaimed John, staring at the envelope. " page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 A BEAtUTIFUL FIEND. e "' Read it! read it, John!" exclaimed the old lady. "Wait! I want to know first if Mr. Craven Kyte has had his supper," said hospitable John. "Why, of course he basn't, Jacky. He must have started from Wendover long before supper time, to have got here now. Octy, go and tell Mandy to set the table and prepare supper for Mr. Kyte," said Aunt Kitty. "Oh, do read the letter, Johnl" impatiently exclaimed the widow. "Yes, mother. Whe-ewl Nephew and niece, here's news I Listenl" "JOEH LYTTON, Esq.--Dear Sir: I have had placed in my hands, in trust for the benefit of the son and daugh- ter of the late Henry Lytton, the sum of two thousand dollars, to be devoted to their maintenance and education for the school and college year commencing the first of September, proximo. I am given to understand that the same sum will be paid annually into my hands for their benefit, until their education shall be completed. It is necessary that I should confer personally with yourself and Mr. and Miss Lytton on this subject. I shall therefore either expect to see you with your nephew and niece here, or I will make you a visit at your own home,.at your pleas- ure. Waiting your reply, dear sir, I remain "Yours truly, STEPHEN LYE." "There What do you think of that?" inquired John. "The laws a messy upon my soul! I'm dumbfounded!" exclaimed old Mrs. Lytton, who thereupon began and poured forth a torrent of conjectures truly miraculous in a "dumbfounded " womanm "Two thousand dollars a year for two yoking people I " cried Mrs. John. "Did ever mortal soul hear the like?" put in Miss Molly; while the, young people were equally voluble in expressions of wonder and astonishment. , \ THEI UNKNOWN BENEFACTOR. 179 "Now who can it be as is agoig to all this here expense for poor Harry's chillun?" piteously inquired tMrs. Lyt- ton who was suffering pangs of curiosity. "'Alden and Laura, surely you two, or leastways one on you, could give a guess," she added, appealing to the young people. "Indeed we cannot, grandma," answered Laura and Alden in a breath. '"We shall hear all about it when the parson comes down,/for that's the way it must be. As there's three of us here and only one of him there, you see, why of course he must come to us, rather than we go to him; besides, it would be wofe hospitable to invite him down here, than to offer to go) and see him there," concluded old-fashioned John, folding up the letter and putting it into his pocket. "When will you answer that, uncle?" inquired Alden seriously., "When will I answer it? Stay; let me see. This is Saturdayight, isn't it? So if I don't answer it to-night, I can't answer it until Monday, can I? For though I don't set up to be much of a saint, I can't answer letters on Sun- day, that's dertain. So I reckon Pll write to-night. And we can drop the letter in the post-office as we go to church to-morrow." And with these words John got up and went in search of writing materials, and after some difficulty got together a half dried up inkstand, a ttumpy quill pen and a few whity-brown sheets of paper, and then he sat down at the table in the hall, by the- light of a, tallow candle, to write his letter to the minister. Writing was always a sore trial to honest John, and it was well that it was not imposed on him more than once or twice in the course of a year. At length, after having spoiled several sheets of paper, the task was satisfactorily completed, and the letter was read aloud to the family, with no little pride by its author,' iI, page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. M "There! Now I think that will do," he said, as he pro. ceeded to fold and seal it. His work was duly applauded, and then the yawning family, who had been kept -up much beyond their usual hour of retiring, and theirl tired guest, bade each other good-night' and went to bed. The next day being the Sabbath, they all went to church. On their way through the village, John Lytton stopped and dropped his letter into the night box of the post-office. Several days passed before the reply of the minister came. It was satisfactory. Mr. Lyle proposed to leave town by the early train on Monday morning, and hoped to reach Wendover on Monday evening. "We must send the carryall to meet him at the station. And I rather think that I or Alden, or maybe both of us, had better go with it. It would be showing respect like to the stranger," said John Lytton. And his family all agreed with him. Accordingly on Monday afternoon John Lytton and Alden set out in the carryall to go to the Wendover sta- tion to meet the Rev. Mr. Lyle; while old Mrs. Lytton and Mrs. John went into the kitchen to look after the prepara- tion of an excellent supper for the expected visitor. The uncle and nephew reached Wendover an hour before the train was expected to arrive. John stopped at the "Reindeer" to feed and water his horses, and while the animals were taking their refreshments, their master walked into the bar-room for a draught of ale and a word with the landlord. John was an inveterate male gossip, and could not have kept a secret even if its disclosure should have hanged him. So presently he astonished Mr. Greenfield by telling him the nature of the business r that had brought himself and his nephew to Wendover. - THE UNKNOWN BENEFACTOR. 181 "To meet a reverend clergyman, sir, who comes down to us as the agent of a wealthy party who wishes to send Alden to college and Laura to boarding-school at his own cost; who, in fact, proposes to pay, through the hands of Mr. Lyle, two thousand dollars a year for their support and education until the boy gets his profession, and the girl her husband. I do not more than half like the idea of my nephew and niece being under obligations to a stranger; but still I can't stand out against the interests of poor Henry's children, especially as I rather suspect that this money will be, after all, the payment of some debt that the debtor does not wish openly to acknowledge," said John, with a knowing wink. "Ifi fact, restitution-conscience money," put in Mr. Greenfield. "IYes, that's what I mean. Conscience money," said John. "But you don't suspect who is a paying of it or what it is for?" "No" ":Well, I do," "Lor I!" said John, opening his round blue eyes. "Yes, I do. I think it's Governor Cavendish, and no- body else." "Whe-ew-ew!" said John, with a long whistle, as he fell into deep thought. "Now I'll tell you why. Governor Cavendish pardoned out the murderer of their father, without any reason any- bodyknows anything about for doing so. And now it's my belief he is secretly making it up to the children. 'And just see how able he is to do it too. Why, what's two thousand dollars a year to Charles Cavendish, With his in- come of two hundred thousand?" . "To be sure not much. But, no," said John, -wisely shaking his red head,. "I can't think it. It is not Governor page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 1]82 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Cavendish. Nor blest if I know who it isl There's the whistle l" he suddenly exclaimed, as the shriek of the ap- proaching engine was heard. And he started up, bade a hasty good-morning to the landlord, and went out and jumped into the carryall, where Alden was already seated, turned the horses' heads, and reached the station just as the train thundered in and stopped, CHAPTER XXTX. It WHO IS HE? rTHRTRE was but one passenger for Wendover, and that 1, was aaittle fair-haired young man, in a dusty suit of black oloth, whom John easily identified as the Rev. Mr. Lyle. While the minister was looking about, himself in some uncertainty as to his next step, John walked up, raised his hat, and said: "I have the honor of speaking to the Rev. Mr. Lyle?" "That is my name, sir," replied the traveller, bowing, and slightly lifting his eyebrows in surprise. "All right! My name's John Lytton, and this youth is my nephew Alden, of whom you wrote to me." "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lytton," answered the stranger, taking John's offered hand. "And yours too, young sir,"- he added, shaking hands with Alden. "Now I've got a conveyance here all ready; horses rest- ed and 'freshed, and will take you to the Lodge in a jiffy. WHO IS HG? 183 This all your luggage?" said John, laying hold of a carpet bag in the hand of the traveller. "Thanks; this is all, but do not trouble yourself with it. I could not possibly permit you to carry it for me," objected Mr. Lyle. "Oh, nonsense You're, my visitor, you know. This way, sir, if you please," said John, forcibly taking posses- sion of the little preacher's carpet bag, and sturdily trudg- ing -on before him. "You are very kind I'm sure," said Mr. Lyle, following with a deprecating air, until they reached the spot where the carryall was waiting. "Get in, sir, get in," said John, politely helping his guest up into a comfortable back seat, and then putting the carpet bag under the box. The little preacher returned thanks, and settled himself. John climbed to a seat beside his visitor, and then said to his nephew: "Alden, you may sit on the front seat and drive. I'm ing to sit along lo the parson to talk to him." y Alden mounted the driver's seat, and started, the horses. But it was not until they had left the village behind them and entered upon the forest road that Mr. Lytton turned to his guest and said: "I left my coachman behind o' purpose. I drove the carryall into town, and let Alden drive it home also 6' pur- pose. I want to have a confidential talk along of you here, where there an't no women nor niggers to be over-hearing of us and telling tales. And now I want you to tell me confidential who is this party that wants to undertake such a heavy job as to pay for the, genteel support and college education of these two young people?" "I am not at liberty to disclose his name, but I may say that I believe he will perform all that he has promised page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. to do, and that his motives for keeping himself in the back- ground of his good works are justifiable," replied the little preacher. John Lytton shoved his big red hand up under his fur Oap, and scratched his head reflectively, and then he grunted forth: 'CHum, hum! You know him yourself though?" "Yes; I know him very well." "He an't-Governor Cavendish?" "No, he is not Governor Cavendish. But there, you see, I must answer no more such questions as that; for if I begin to tell you who he is not, you may soon, upon the principle of'exclusion,' as the doctors call it, find out who he is. And it is expedient that his name should be a secret, at least for the present," said the trustee gravely. "One more question, and then I have done, sir," said John, with a sort of rude self-respect. Mr. Lyle bowed. "You will see yourself, sir, that it is due to my honor that I should ask and you should answer it." "Put your question, Mr. Lytton, and if I can properly reply to it I will," said the parson. . "Then, Mr. Lyle, as you know all about this party, will you tell me whether he is a man from whom a faith- ful guardian could with honor permit his young wards to receive so heavy an obligation?" "Yes, sir, he is. And, moreover, neither you nor I, nor any other person, could prevent him from setting apart this yearly sum for the support and education of Henry Lytton's children. He will place it in bank for them. He wishes it to be used for the purpose specified. If it is not so used, it will still be placed there and left to accumulate, principal and interest, until the young people shall be of age. For this man feels that in doing this he is discharging WHO IS HE? 185 a sacred debt that he owes to the children of Henry Lytton." John slapped his own leg exultingly, exclaiming: "Conscience money I Iknew it I Conscience money I Is it not, now?" "If you choose to call it so." "Well, but an't it, now?" "In some sense, yes." "In that case, I suppose that, without detriment to their honor, my nephew and niece may receive this assistance?" "They assuredly may," answered the trustee. "Alden! NWhat the deuce are you a doing of, boy! Going right over that bank! Do you want to break all our necks?" exclaimed 'John Lytton, suddenly starting up and taking the reins from the hands of his nephew, who, while too intent upon the conversation that concerned him- self so nearly, had let the horses swerve from the middle of the road in dangerous proximity to the edge of the prec- ipice, as they were going'down the side of a heavily wooded hill. Alden smiled, gave up the reins, and as soon as the carriage was righted, willingly changed seats with his un- cle. And so John Lytton drove for the remainder of the way home, where they arrived at about dusk. All the women of that house dearly loved a' minister of the gospel, and so they had done their best to receive him with honor. An excellent supper was prepared. And the women and children and servants were all in their Sunday's best clothes. And John introduced the visitor to his wife, mother (\ and aunt, and then took him off to a bedroom, where there was a plenty of fresh water and clean towels, wherewith to * page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. refresh ihimself after his dusty, smutty and smoky railway ride. As soon as the traveller had washed, combed and dressed himself, he went down to the big parlor, where the family were gathered to receive him. And in a few minutes supper was announced, and he was shown into the sitting-room, where an ample evening repast awaited him. After supper, the- family and their visitor adjourned to the " big parlor." They had no entertainment to offer him-no music, no books, no pictures, except the time-smoked family portraits on the walls, and it seemed tacitly understood that there was to be no, business discussed until the next day. So conversation flagged. And the women, deprived of their usual evening occupations of knitting, sewing, etc., laid aside in honor of their guest, fomnd time. hang heavily on their hands, and sighed and yawned audibly and visibly. At length, after an hour or two of dulness, John Lyt- ton summoned Cassy the cook, and called for cider, spices, sugar and ice, and proceeded to brew a bowl of sherbet, which he afterward passed around in large, generous glass- es. And then, as the hour was late and the guest fatigued, John offered to attend Mr. Lyle to his room. The women all seemed deeply shocked. Honest John had been guilty of a breach of etiquette, which old Mrs. "ytton hastily sought to repair by stammering, in much trepidation: "May-may-may-may be the Reverend Mr. Lyle will do us the kindness to stop first, and lead our family worship?" "Certainly, certainly, said the minister, reseating himself. John stared. Family worship had never been an insti- tution at Lytton Lodge, where each one had always done his or her own-individual praying, by metaphorically enter- ing his or her closet and closing the door. WHO IS -HE? 187 However, he soon recovered himself, and mumbling something or other about: "If Mr. Lyle would be so good," he sank back upon his seat. The minister opened the Bible that old Mrs. Lytton had placed on a stand with a lighted candle by his side, and began the evening services by reading the first portion of the Sermon on the Mount.. Then, after prayers, they separated for the night. After breakfast the next morning, all the family being assembled in conclave in the "big parlor," the great ques- tions were taken up, as to what college should be selected for Alden, and what ladies',boarding-school for Laura. f Now honest John Lytton and his simple family knew about as much of colleges and .schools as an Esquimaux or a Hottentot. So the decision of the question was left to the Rev. Mr. Lyle, subject only to the will of the young gentleman and lady who were expected to become candi- dates formscholastic honors. The trustee, wlho was influenced by a great reverence for antiquity, chose for the young gentleman the old seat of learning, the University of Virginia. And for the young lady he recommended the celebrated - Christian Ladies'- College of Mount Ascension. He advised that they should both make arrangements to enter these at the beginning of the first semi-annual term, which would be about the first of September. And he wrote a check for two hundred dollars each, for their necessary outfit, and offered the use of his own bachelor house, should they decide to go to town to do their-shop- ping. All these matters being well'arranged, the minister bade them all good-bye, and set out for the city. page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] CHAPTER XXX. I CA CHANGE. T1HERE came a spell of fine cool weather late in August. 1 Takin,g advantage of this, Mr. and Mrs. John Lytton, with their nephew and niece, set out for the city to give the two young people proper college and school outfits. Through the agency of Mr. Lyle, thty found cheap board in a private family for the few days they intended to remain in town. Alden's necessities were the first to be attended to. The Rev. Mr. Lyle managed the business correspondence with the authorities of the University of Virginia,and ar- ranged that Alden Lytton should enter that celebrated in- stitution of learning at the commencement of the ensuing term, early in September. And Alden himself saw to the purchase of proper clothing, books, stationery, and so forth. So about the fifteenth of the month, Alden, being quite ready, set out with Mr. Lyle to Charlottsville, where he was duly entered. Meanwhile Mrs. John Lytton, with her niece Laura, was very busily engaged in shopping. They had the Mount Ascension School circular before them, embellished with a steel frontispiece of the school buildings and a vignette likeness of the founder. And be- sides the history, constitution and by-laws of the school, programme of classes and studies, and list of professors, teachers, officers, graduates and pupils, there was a regu- (188) A CHANGE. 189 lation list of articles every young lady was required to bring-in which every article of linen Was to be provided by the dozen, except in the item of pocket handkerchiefs, of which there were to be six dozens. How to get the best possible outfit with the least po- sible money, was the problem "Aurt Kitty " puzzled over from day to day, until the return: of Mr. Lyle from Char- lottsville obliged her to hasten the completion of her purchases; for Mr. Lyle was also to escort Laura to 1Mount Ascension, As for Laura, she would have expended a large portion of her pecuniary allowance"in buying presents for her little cousins. Bat Aunt Kitty would by no means allow this. "If you have any money left after buying all your things, child, you just keep it. You'll want every cent of it at that expensive, school. Don't I know? They'll have there the wealthiest people's daughters, all well supplied . with pocket money; and you wouldn't like to seem a pauper among them, would you?" said Aunt Kitty. "Ah, aunt! am I much better than that?" sighed Laura. Now though her auntie would not allow Laura to spend any of the money that had been given to her for her own school outfit, in presents for' the children, yet Laura was not without other means to gratify her affection and benev- olence. She had a little reserved fund which her aunt knew nothing about. And so Laura took an opportunity, while Mrs. Lytton was Cheapening flannels at one end of a dry goods store, to step away to the other end and surreptitiously purchase two pretty crimson mering dresses, and some nice white linen aprons and fine white stockings for her favorites. Afterward, by a similar device, she bought for them two pairs of red morocco boots. All these articles she got s . page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. ' home among the other parcels, without exciting the sus- picion of Mrs. John. And it was not until the day of their separation, when Laura's'big trunk was packed for school, and Mrs. Lytton's little trunk was packed for Lytton Lodge, when it, was too late to reject the presents, that Laura put the bundles in her auntie's hands, saying: "Give these to my darlings. I really could not make up my mind to go away without sending them something pretty." "Oh, Laura, what is this?" inquired Aunt Kitty, un- rolling the parcels. When she saw the pretty dresses, aprons, and shoes, she looked half reproachfully, half gratefully at her niece, as she said: "Oh, you very extravagant girl! What do you mean by this? - You'll spoil my children and ruin yourself." "No fear of either, auntie," said Laura. And she hastily kissed her friend good-bye, for the car- riage was waiting at the door to take her to the steam- boat landing, and Mr. Lyle was waiting in the hall to escort her. John Lytton drew her arm in his own, and took her out and put her into the carriage, and kissed her and cried over her, and made her promise to write to him every week, on condition that he would answer her letters once dr twice a quarter, "though not much of a writer himself, no how," as-he assured her. Finally, as Mr. Lyle hinted that they might be too late for the -boat, John shook hands heartily with her, prayed the Lord to bless her, and retreated and made way for the reverend gentleman, who, having given the driver his orders, entered the carriage and seated himself by the side of Laura. MOUTT ASCENSION. 191 The carriage started for the steamboat wharf, where it arrived in time to catch the boat. John Lytton went blubbering into the house, where he remained until it was time to take his wife to the railway station. And in an hour John and Kitty were rushing across country to their home at Lytton Lodge. And Laura and Mr. Lyle were steaming up the river to Mount Ascension. CHAPTER XXXLI. MOUNT AS C ENSIO N. THERE are some places on this earth so paradisiacal in their beauty, that one, gazing upon them, is tempted to doubt that he yet treads the earth,- and to dream that he has passed into the world of spirits. Such a scene, so heavenly fair, was Mount Ascension, a hilly and woodEd island in the channel of the upper river. The river widened around it like a lake, and the banks on each side arose into lofty forest-clothed mountains, whose encircling ridges and green shadows gave to the scene the sweetest, deepest air of quietness and seclusion-not of stillness and solitude, however, for there millions of birds made music mnorning and evening, and myriads of leaves rustled in the forest, and streams rippled through the 'rocks, and woods and waters sung together day and night. The scene was always delightful; but it was most de- lightful at sunrise and at sunset, when the crimson, golden, or- purple horizon, and the deep green and dark gray moun- tain banks were reflected in the clear, deep river with a richness of coloring that made almost a surfeit of beauty. page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. It was late in the afternoon of a clear September day, when Mr. Lyle and Laura Lytton stood in the bows of the boat, looking up the river; for they were approaching their destination. Before them the river widened, or, as it were, opened its arms to enfold a most picturesque and beautiful island, that arose like a wooded hill from the bosom of the water, while on either bank lofty, forest-crowned cliffs towered, overshadowing the scene. Before them, still further up the river, the sun was sinking to the horizon, and flooding all the sky and water with a golden glory. "The sun shines all day long, whether we see it or not; but twice in the twenty-four hours he SMLES! Did you ever notice that, Mr. Lyle?" softly inquired Laura. "Notice what, my child?" "The sun's divine smiles over the earth, morning and evening. "No, my dear." "Then look now, Mr. Lyle. See how like a heavenly smile the sunset is. How like a smile of the Lord, blessing His children, it seems! If I were not a Christian, I should be a sun-worshipper." "There are thousands of people who pass through this world without ever looking at the most glorious object to be seen from it," said Mr. Lyle dryly. "Passengers for Mount Ascension please to get ready to land?" vociferated a boatman, at the same time ringing a bell to attract attention. "Your trunk and travelling bag are up on deck ready to be landed, my dear; and if you have any more prepar- ations to make, you had better hurry," said Mr. Lyle. "I have nothing to do, but to snatch up my little bag and parasol. I can do that in a minute. -And I don't wish to miss a ray of this sunset. I am a sun-worshipper though */ MOUNT ASCENSION. 193 a Christian also, Mr. Lyle. And why not? Is not the sun the most glorious object we see in nature'? Is not the sun a symbol of the Lord? Is not the sun the light and life of the material world, as the Lord is of the spiritual?" asked Laura, her countenance beaming with enthusiasm. "You-are-on-dangerous--ground-my dear. Bet- ter be careful how you talk and think," said the preacher uneasily. While he spoke, the steamer came to an anchor in the middle of the channel, and a long row boat was lowered on the larboard side, and manned to take the passengers and their luggage to the landing-place at Mount Ascension. "We are the only passengers, I do believe," said Mr. Lyle as he handed Laura down, and then followed her. into the boat. "No, there is a, young lady coming," whispered Laura, as a slight and graceful girlish figure, dressed in deep mourning and closely veiled, came forward and let herself be helped down into the boat by the oarsmen. Mr. Lyle and Laura were the more astonished, because neither of them had seen this young lady during their voyage on board the steamer. She must have purposely secluded herself while there. And now she was closely veiled, as if to avoid recognition. They only knew that she was youth- ful by the light and gracefuil movements of her slender and supple form. The boat was shoved- offifrom the side 'of -the steamer, and headed toward the Island. When it came to within a few yards of the landing- place the lady lifted her heavy black crape veil, revealing behind it a'widow's' cap, encircling the most bewitching child-like face her fellow-passengers had ever seen. Her features were small and perfectly moulded. Her complex- ion was a rich, ripe brown, brightening into a deep crimson 12 . . page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. bloom upon her cheeks and lips. Her hair, eyes, eyelashes and eyebrows were all black as night. She did not seem to be more than fifteen years of age. And yet her lovely face was encircled in a widow's cap! While Laura was admiring, wondering over and com- passionating the beautiful, child-like Tidow, the latter turn- ed and spoke to her, in the sweetest voice the girl had ever heard: "You are going to Mount Ascension, I presume?" "Yes, madam," answered Laura, feeling how strange it was to 'address that childish creature by such a matronlytitle. "I also am going there. We shall be acquaintances, and I hope we shall be friends," said the little lady. "I thank you, madam. I should be very much pleased," answered Laura softly. And then she ventured to add, "But you are not one of the pupils?" The youthful widow smiled faintly as she answered: "Oh, no; not one of the young ladies. I am to teach drawing'and painting. That is almost my only accomplish- ment, and I must turn it to account now," she added, with a slight sigh. The boat touched the stairs leading up to a little land- ing-house. Mr. Lyle got out first, and with a very kiand smile and bow reached down his hand to help the child in widows weeds out of the boat. With a glance full of sweetness she thanked him. Laura followed. And the three left their luggage to be landed by the boatmen, and walked up the wild, rocky pathway leading up the wooded hill to the school grounds and buildings that occupied the central and highest part of the island, and that now came into sight. A white freestone palace with many verandas and bal- conies, and elegant outhuildings, a verdant lawn with ter- MOUNT 'ASCENSION. 195 races and marble stairs, parterres of flowers, groves of trees, vine-clad arbors, clear ponds, marble statues, and all else that could contribute to the health, beauty and delight of the scene. "Oh, what an enchanting place! I wonder if I have died and come to heaven?" exclaimed Laura in a sort of rapture, as she gazed. "It will be happiness enough only to live and breathe here, will it not?" she inquired, appeal- ing to the youthful widow. The child-like face changed, the soft dark, eyes filled with tears, the tender lips trembled, but the young crea- ture did not answer. And Laura, understood that no scene of brightness could ever bring real gladness to that bereaved and inourn: ing young heart. They were now walking up the marble steps leading from terrace to terrace up to the white mansion which was I to be their future home. Parterres of the most beautiful flowers enamelled the green grass. Two crystal fountains played in white marble basins, the one on'the right, the other on the left. Passing between these, the party of three went up the broad stairs leading to the principal door of the building. There was no need to knock, for the door was wide open, revealing the whole length of the central hall to another open door at the back, with other steps leading down into a beautiful garden. ' A comely middle-aged matron, who seemed to be the portress, arose from an arm-chair where she had been sit- ting embroidering, and stood ready to receive the visitors. "We wish to see Mrs. St. John, if you please," said the minister. "Madam is in the grove with the young ladies just now,-but they will be in in a few moments. Walk into the o, Wl nt h page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. receiving room, if you please, young ladies. And be so good as to give me your card, sir, said the portress, as she opened a door on the right hand, leading into a large, airy room with many windows, through which the, pleasant prospect of woods and waters could be everywhere seen. Mr. Lyle gave his card to the portress, and then fol- lowed his two female companions into the delightful wait- ing, room. CHAPTER XXXT. MRS. GREY. THE youthful widow sank wearily down upon one of the settees. Mr. Lyle seated himself beside her. Even Laura could see that her clerical guardian was "smit- ten." She left them, and walked about from window to window, gazing forth upon the woods and waters and the distant mountains, all now fast deepening into darkness under the gathering twilight. As she gazed, presently her attention was attracted by the light pattering of many feet, and the sweet mingling of many voices, as the young girls came into the house ftom their sunset walk. She heard them ascend the broad staircase leading to the story above. Soon after the door 'of the receiving room opened, and a lady entered--a lady of such an aspect and demeanor of majesty and sweetness, that Laura's heart was drawn in love and reverence to her. As a guide and teacher of young womanhood, she had a world-wide fame. By her young charges she was almost worshipped. As she crossed the room and came nearer, MRS. GREY. 197 Laura, looking at her with respectful interest, saw a tall, fair, blue-eyed woman, of perhaps sixty years of age, whose only sign of advanced life was her snow-white hair, that was arranged in puffs around her forehead, under a rich lace cap. She wore a plain gray silk dress, with collar and cuffs of lace. Mr. Lyle and his two young companions arose to receive her. "The Reverend Mr. Lyle, I believe," she said, with a smile. "( The same, madam. And I presume I have the honor of speaking to Mrs. St. John.?" said the little minister stiffly. "Yes, sir; I am glad to see you. This I presume is your young ward," she next said, holding out her hand to the young widow. "I beg your pardon, madam. That lady is Mrs. Grey,' said Mr. Lyle, who, in his late tete-h-tete, had learned the youthful widow's name. "Ah, I am glad to see you, Mrs. Grey. I was expect. ing you with anxiety. Please take a seat," said the lady glanoing with surprise at the cildish face and the widow-'s cap that she had not observed before. The young creature bowed and sat down. "This is my ward, Miss Lytton," said Mr. Lyle, pre- senting Laura. "How do you do, my dear? I am very happy to wel- come you to our house," said the lady warmly, shaking hands with the young girl, and leading her to a seat. Laura bowed and blushed, and took the seat that was offered her. But could Laura have seen the look of new and intense interest with which the youthful widow heard her name announced, and with which she still regarded her, she would have been much surprised, arid perhaps vaguely alarmed. page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Mrs. St. John and Mr. Lyle also sat down, and the ' conversation, led by the lady, became easy and pleasant, though not of sufficient importance to be remembered. At length Mr. Lyle, fora purpose of his own, said: "Your place here, madam, seems to be a paradise in a wilderness, shut in from ll the rest of the wicked world. There would scarcely appear to be a farm-house, much less a village or a church, within a hundred miles of you," The lady smiled, and answered: "This only seems so. It is true that we are shut in by the river and the wooded mountains; but beyond them, all around us, is a very rich and populous country. And Green Mount, our post-office, is only one mile further up the river, at the foot of the mountain. This was just what -the minister wished to find out. "There is a village, I suppose?" "Oh, yes; a very thriving village, with a 'population of several hundred persons, which is quite doubled in the sea- son, for it is a favorite summer resort." "Ah, then it has accommodations for strangers. "Yes, sir," said the lady, smiling, as she perceived the drift of the parson's discourse. "But if you have any personal interest in the question; let me set that matter at rest at once by assuring you that we cannot permit you to leave us this evening, We shall claim you for our guest. And as to-morrow is the Sabbath. day, we shall hope that you will kindly conduct divine ser- vice for us, in the school-room." "Most willingly, madam, and with thanks for your hospitality," answered Mr. Lyle, as a great weight was lifted off his mind; for in truth the good parson had no relish for a night tramp over the rocks and through the woods, in search of a supper and lodging. The lady then rang for lights. MRS. GREY. 199' A negro man-servant came in and closed all the shutters and lighted the gasalier. . , "Why, you have gas herel" exclaimed the minister with more surprise than politeness. Mrs. St. John smiled. "Yes, sir," she said, "we have gas even in this wilder- ness, We find it so much safer, as well as more conven- ient, than any other artificial light, that we manufacture it on the premises." When the outside view was shut out, and the interior lighted up, Laura saw what a delightful, home-like room this spacious apartment was, after all. It was not the libra- ry, nor the picture gallery, nor the museum, nor the music room of the institution, where each art and science had its -separate apartments. But many choice pictures adorned the walls; cabinets of shells, fossils and minerals stood in the corners; books in great variety lay upon the tables; a piano stood between the front windows, with a harp and a guitar near it;, and an aquarium stood between the back windows. Any one compelled to stay in that waiting room- need not have passed a single weary hour. "I have another young lady from your neighborhood, my dear Miss Lytton," said Mrs. St. John. "Yes, ma'am," answered Laura, looking up. "She is a Miss Cavendish--]Miss Flnmma Cavendish of Blue Cliffs. She arrived on Monday last," said Mrs. St. John. "Oh, yes, ma'am; I know who, she is. My uncle's place is quite near her papa's. But I dot not know her person- ally at all," said Laura. "I hope that you will soon know and like each other, for you will share the same room for the present, but not for any length of time, if the arrangement should prove to be inconvenient to either of you. And, now, my dear, I page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] iW ' A . A U 1 1 IT U I ,D 1 i A. will show you to your room, where you may take off your hat and prepare for tea. Mrs. Grey, will you come with us? Mr. Lyle, a footman will attend you to your apart- ment immediately. Tea will -be ready in half an hour. Come, young ladies," said Mrs. St. John, smiling, and lead. ing the way, followed by the youthful widow and Laura Lytton,. CHAPTE$ XXxtil. EMMA CAVENDISH. A beautiful and happy girl, With step as soft as summer air, nd fresh young lip and brow of pearl, Shadow'd with many a careless curl, Of unconfined and flowing hair: A seeming dhild in everything, Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms, As nature wears the smile of spring, When sinking into summer's arms. JOHN G1. Wmr-T'Ia.; Myr RS. St John led Laura and Mrs. Grey up stairs to a *i-V-L. spacious hall lighted by a skylight, through which the moon pourec a flood of silver radiance, and from which many white doo's on all sides opened into the chambers occupied by the young girls. She knocked at a door on the right. A very sweet voice invited her to enter. She opened the door, and led her two companions into a pretty bedroom, in which everything was white, pure and fresh.. , A fair and most beautiful girl of about fifteen years, with her golden hair flowing freely over her white robe, advanced from the bedside to meet the visitors. This EMMA CAVENDISH. 201 was ERmma Cavendish, to whom Mrs. St. John introduced the two strangers, and then leaving Laura with Fmma as her room-mate, she conducted Mrs. Grey to a room on the opposite side of the hall, told her it was to be her room, and then took her leave. Mary Grey laid off her black crape bonnet, with its deep crape veil, and then went and stood before the dress- ing-table, and gazed at her reflected image in the glass. "Yes," she said to herself, "I am beautiful enough and clever enough to make my own way and do my own will in this world. There are gates of entrance and paths leading to the highest places. And only the highest place will suit me. I might make my fortune on the stage, but fortune is not all that I want. I want POSITION. -And I will have it. Nothing else will satisfy me. - And to attain" position, I must climb from perfectly respectable and unim- peachable base: that of an humble boarding-school drawing mistress; humble enough indeed, but so perfectly respect- able and unimpeachable! And the only way in which I can get hold of the heart of some young heiress and climb over her head to some high seatl But ah, fate 1 My greatest difficulty will be with my own heart I Can I always keep down its strong affections and silence its cries? Yes, I can, and I will!"she said grimly, setting her teeth. "Now let me look once more at these testimonials, before I show them to Mrs. St. John," she murmured, as she went-to her travelling bag and took from it a packet of letters. She sat down with them and examined each one carefully in turn. "Perfect! perfect! she murmured, smiling strangely to herself. "Nothing could be better counterfeited. Here my one gift of imitation, or fac-similes manufacture, comes into play. The magnates whose letters these purport to page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. be, arid whose signatures they bear, would be almost 'forced to acknowledge them as their own, or be suspect- ed of falsehood." Here the young schemer was startled by the ringing of the tea bell. She hastily put her papers into her pocket, went to the glass and smoothed her raven black hair, and put on a prim little widow's cap, -which, by the way, was extremely becoming, however inappropriate to her childlike beauty. In the hall outside she met nEmma Cavendish and Laura Lytton, just issuing from their room. Kind greet- ings passed between them, and they walked down together, and as they went, they were joined- by other young girls issuing from their chambers, all dressed in white muslin, which was the summer evening uniform of the school. But though the dresses were all alike, the trimmings exhibited individual tastes; for some of the young creatures wore blue sashes and hair ribbons, and others pink or green, or mauve. Only Laura Lytton; who was still in second mourning, wore a black sash. As the young girls trooped down stairs many eyes wandered toward Mary Grey in amazement, to see such a childlike creature, who might be one of themselves, in widow's weeds. "Who is she?" inquired some, in audible whispers. "The new drawing mistress," answered others in simi- lar tones. "How interesting she is," murmured many of the young girls among themselves. And the youthful widow smiled slyly, as she saw the impression that she made. After -tea, the young girls had the freedom of the house and lawn for two hours. And some strolled in EMMA OAVENDI SH. 203 parties of two or more out into the moonlight; and some went into the dancing room, and had little quadrilles among themselves; and others adjourned to the drawing-room, where they amused themselves with various quiet games. On one sofa sat mmrna Cavendish with Laura Lytton by her side. She was kindly endeavoring to entertain the newly arrived young girl, and to make her feel at ease. On another sofa sat the young drawing mistress, with the Reverend Mr. Lyle seated near-her, and all but too evidently devoted to her. And though the poor, true- hearted minister of the Gospel was not the sort of game this beautiful fortune-huntress meant to aim at, yet she could not but see and delight in his admiration of her beauty, nor refiain from indulging in a little demure, cleri- cal flirtation. But the poor preacher was in dead earnest; nothing but a sense of propriety prevented him from proposing marriage to her on the spot. At half-past nine o'clock the bell rang for evening prayers. The young girls all gathered in the drawing room, and the Rev. Mr. Lyle led the devotions. After these were over, the pupils in orderly rotation each bade their teachers good-night-and retired. The Reverend Mr. Lyle soon followed their example, and withdrew to the chamber that had been assigned him. There was no one left! in the drawing-room, but the lady Principal and the new teacher. "I have lingered here, Madam, to present those testi- monials of which I wrote to you. As this is Saturday evening, and no business can be done on Sunday, and it would be long to wait until Monday, I judge it best to submit them to your inspection .to-night," said Mrs. Grey, 'withdrawing her packet of papers from her pocket and lay- ing them upon a stand beside the Principal.' page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] XU4 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "'It is not really necessary to enter upon this matter to. night, Mrs. Grey. It is quite sufficient for me to know that you have these high testimonials to which you referred in your letter," said Mrs. St. John courteously. "Nevertheless I should be pleased if you would look at them, if I am not asking too much of your time," urged the new teacher. The lady Principal bowed and took up the papers, glanced at each in turn, and made her comments. "From Dr. Ross Butler; good, very good. From Prof. Knox, unexceptionable. From the Reverend Smith Jones; quite satisfactory. From Mrs. Senator Poinsett; excellent. From Mrs. General Montgomery; nothing could be better. From the Right Reverend Bishop Wheatfield; most satisfactory. Mrs. Grey, my dear, your testimonials are of the very highest order, and as such are perfectly ac- ceptable. And though I greatly value those furnished you by the reverend clergy and the learned professors, yet I most value these given you by ladies of rank and piety," said the Principal. "Yes, Madam. And I also prize the esteem of ladies much more than the-admiration of gentlemen," added the youthful widow, demurely casting down her eyes as she told' her hypocritical story. "Quite right, my dear. And it is now with much pleas- ure that I welcome you as one of our happy household at Mount Ascension," said the Principali holding out her hand. Mary Gray took it and raised it to her lips with much grace and tenderness, and then, arose and courtesied her ' good-night," took up her papers, and withdrew. That night some seventy souls in all reposed peacefully in the mansion of Mount Ascension. And among them was one fair angel and one beautiful devil. And it is with these two, as principals, that our story now has to deal. CHAPTER TXXJV. THE SERPENT IN EDEN. rHE ,next day being the Sabbath, there was divine ser- vice held in the largest class-room. The Reverend Mr. Lyle officiated in the morning. In the afternoon he went to a negro meeting-house, three miles off on the main-land, and preached there. But he returned in time for-the school tea. After which he com- pensated himself for .his laborious-Sabbath day's duties by sitting on the sofa with Mrs. Gray, and talking to her all the evening. On Monday morning he took his departure. That Monday the school was organized for the autumn and winter term. Emma Cavendish and Laura Lytton were) placed in the same class. They sat side by side at the. same double desk. They read, wrote, drew, danced and played duets together. Out of school hours, they took long walks all around the island and beach together, and, they talked of their relative home lives. One afternoon they sat together on a rock at the south, end of the island, looking down the river, now clear as a mirror, and reflecting in its deep bosom the hilly and green wooded banks, and the burning red sunset sky. They had been silent for a long time, looking at the beautiful scene. Then- Emma spoke. "This is a lovely place-a heaven on earth. And I should be very happy here if it were not for thoughts of my dear father." (205) page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "He is well and prosperous, I hope," put in Laura. "No, neither. By one noble, but unpopular act, he lost muqh of his popularity. That was very depressing to a just man, who would do no wrong deed to conciliate pub- lic favor, and also very -mortifying to a great statesman, whose whole life lay in his ambition. The election foy governor comes off again this autumn, and it is supposed that he will certainly lose it." "It seems very hard that the Governor should lose place and power for doing right." "My dear Laura, the more I observe and reflect, the more clearly I perceive that it is nearly impossible for a conscientious man to become a successful politician. 'My kingdom is not of this world,' said the highest authority on that subject. Laura found nothing to answer to this. She only pressed Emma's hand in sympathy. Miss Cavendish resumed: "Disappointment for the past, anxiety for the future, affects my father's health. Though not yet sixty years old, I can see that he is failing very fast. And now that, more than ever, he needs the solace of domestic life, his family is dwindling away from him." "His family dwindling away?" echoed Laura. "Yes; my widowed aunt, Mrs. Wesley, who used to live with him, has married a Baptist missionary minister, and gone with him to China. And Ihave come away to school. And my grandmother, who is over eighty years of age, now keeps her chamber altogether. So my father is very lonely in his home." "Yes, indeed. Is he in the city now, or in the coun- try?" "He is at Blue Cliffs. But he will go to the city, at the meeting of the legislature. Then he will be more lone- THE SERPENT IN EDEN. 207 ly in his domestic life than ever, for my grandmother will not accompany him, She is not able to bear the journey." "But you will go to him at Christmas, for a few weeks?" "Yes, my dear, most assuredly. And I mean to entreat you and Mrs. Grey also, poor little beauty! to go home with me to spend the holidays, if you will do me so much kindness." "Thanks, dear Em; I should be ever so much pleased, I am sure," said Latra throwing her arms around the neck of her friend, kissing her fondly, and thus frankly express- ing the delight she felt at the prospect of accompanying Emma Cavendish to the city, and being a guest at the Executive Mansion for the Christmas holidays. "But-I wonder who Mrs. Grey really is. You are so much more intimate with her than I am, Em; perhaps you can tell me," said Laura, after a while. "Yes, poor little thing.! she seems to take to me most strangely. I do not know why. She has told me all about herself. She was left an orphan at an early age, in the care of an uncle. That uncle died. In less than two years the uncle's widow married again. The second husband showed that he was not disposed to support the niece of his wife's first husband. You see the poor girl's miserable position?" "Oh, yes." "You will not wonder, then, that she accepted the first eligible offer of marriage. It was from a young clergyman, who, soon after the wedding, took his youthful bride to Mobile, Alabama, where he was -called to the charge of a small parish. This was only last spring a year ago." "Yes. Well?" "Ah, dear! In the summer that followed, the yellow- fever broke out with great virulence in the city. The page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. young minister, William Grey, devoted himself to the sick and dying in the alms-house and the hospitals, and-of course, you can guess the end." "He took the fever." "Ah, yes; he took the fever, and died within five months after his wedding-day, leaving his young wife a widow at sixteen." "How very sad!" "Is it not? And she is so beautiful! She might marry again easily. The Rev. Mr. Lyle is pleased with her. He has written to her three times since he left here. And all our professors are 'smitten.' But it is easy to see that her heart is buried in the grave of her husband." "But she has a very good appetite, " said Laura, a little incredulously. "Yes; she is such a child! And children, you know, cry and eat, eat and cry. You never knew grief to :take away a child's appetite," answered Emma. "Well, and then she dresses so richly and tastefully though in the deepest widow's mourning," objected Laura. "A child also loves pretty things, and loves them not the less because she is in grief." "You are an angel, Em! You live in a sphere of good- ness and beauty, and can see arid feel nothing else. But I advise you not to invite this fascinating 'child' widow, who is making such havoc among the hearts of even -our reverend clergy -and learned faculty, to your widowed father's house, unless-you want her for a step-mother!" "Oh, Laura! What an idea! I am very much shock- ed. My dear father is faithful, still to the memory of my angel mother who went to heaven when I was but a babe. And Mary Grey looks forward to nothing but a reunion with her sainted husband, who has won the crown of mar- tyrdom, and awaits his bride in glory." TItE ,SER PENT ISX EDEN. 209 "And meantime she may have to live some fifty years in this wicked world, and satisfy her appetite and hEr van- ity as well as she can. Nonsense, my deaf. A pretty little penniless widow who loves good dinners and fine drcssc, as well as Mary Grey does, will not wear the willow very long." "Oh, Laura, how hard you aret:" "I am a lawyer's daughter, da-ling. And perhaps' I have inherited some of my father's hard, legal acumen. And I give you the beneft without a retailing fee, Ema." "Let us return to the house. The suni has gone down. I feel as if it had gone down Wi a double sense. Yotu chill me, Laura, dearl But promise me this. If ever you find out that you have been unjust to Mary Grey, you will asea knowledge it." "I promise that, on my sacred honor, dear Em," an-.' swered Laura, and the two girls walked back to the houses Laura went to the musics room to practise a solo. Emma noticed Mrs. Grey standing sadly apart, and she went to her and put her arm within hers, and said: "Let us walk up and down the piazza a little whiled It is so pleasant here." The young widow smiled assent. "Emma, dearest," said Mrs. Grey, as they walked arm in arm up and down the long piazza, "you never had a sister?" "No, nor a brother. I was an only child. My mother died when I was but a few months old." "Poor little girl! But perhaps you have cousins who are like sisters to you." "Ah, no! I have but one cousin; and her I have never seen.". , "Indeed! That is strange. But perhaps she was born and reared at a great distance from you, and that would account for your never having seen her." 13 page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "No, indeed! She was born and reared within twenty miles of my father's country house. And yet, lonely as my motherless and sisterless life has been, and much as I have lopged to know my cousin, I havo always been forbidden to see her." "That was very strange. But perhaps there was some good reason for such prohibition." "There was a reason. The story is so well known in our neighborhood, that you might as well hear it." "Yes, dear; for all that concerns you, however remote- ly, is deeply interesting to me. Tell it." "Well, then, my dear, sainted mother once had a half- sister 'the flower of the flock,' the pride and the plague of the family; for she was as beautiful as an angel, and as wilful as an imp. She might have chosen among the best young men of rank in the country, for they were all her suitors. But when she was eighteen years of age, she ran away and married one Frederick Fanning, the son of a hotel-keeper, whose acquaintance she accidentally and im- properly made, while her family were stopping for a few days at his father's hotel, at White Perch Point. You know the place?" "I have heard of it." "Twenty years ago, as I have been told, it was a very prosperous place of summer resort. But this Frederick Fanning was a handsome, wild, reckless young man, and soon squandered the property his father had left him, and. thus he brought his bride to 'comparative poverty,' as it was called, if you know what kind, of poverty that is-I don't," smiled Emma. "Nor I. I only know what positive poverty is," sighed Mrs. Grey. "Her family would do nothing to help them. They had utterly discarded her on her imprudent marriage. THE SERPENT IN EDEN. 211, ' Fortunately,' it was said, the reckless pair had no children --only one child, a daughter, the cousin of whom I speak." "Ah!" "Her name, I have heard, is Ivy-Ivy Fanning. As I told you, I was never permitted to seek her acquaintance, however much I might have desired it. And at one time I did desire it very much. I have never even set eyes on her, and now I know I never shall," said nEmma sadly. ' "Why?" "Why? Poor Ivy! They say that she was beautiful, exceedingly. But I suppose a sea-side public-house, like the White Perch Point Hotel, is not a proper place to bring up a young girl in. Be that as it may, when Ivy was about fourteen years of age they sent her away from home, to a boarding-school in the city. She remained there some twelve or fourteen months, and then--and then- I can tell you no more," murmured Emma, in a very low voice, as she covered her face with her hands and wept. "How shall woman tell Of woman's sinead not with tears?-.She fell. Was it not so, my darling?" softly inquired-the widow. Emma bowed her head and wept. "And-her unhappy parents! What -of them?" "I have heard that her father, when told of her flight from school, went up to the city to try to find and recover her. But he returned without his daughter, and forbade her name ever to be mentioned in his hearing again." "And then?" "The story got abroad, and was rehearsed with many variations and exaggerations, no doubt. Low as the Fan- nings had fallen, they could not bear that -dishonor; and so last spring they left the neighborhood," There was silence between the talkers for a time, and then, in a low, tremulous tone, Mrs. Grey inquired: page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 A BEAUrIFTUL FrEXND. "to you know where they have gone?" "Some say, to California." Mrs. Grey made no further remark just then, but after a few minutes of silence, she inquired: "And is there no means of reclaiming this unhappy girl?" "None that I know of." "And, have her friends no clue to her whereabouts?" "None whatever, I believe." "Miss Cavendish, if ever you were to find this erring girl, and find her penitent, and helpless in her penitence, what would be your course?" gravely inquired Mrs. Grey. ' I have thought of that contingency often. Well, if I should find her now, I would do every good thing for her that my father would permit me to do; for I am still in subjection to my father. But if in future years I should find her as you say-penitent, and helpless in her penitence -I should take her to my bosom, said- Emma gravely and sweetly. "But you might then have a husband who would objeet,' - "I might have, but I do not think I shall," answered Fmjmna And just then their attention was drawn by the signal whistle of the steamer. "Some one is going to land," said Mrs. Grey, stepping upon one of the porch benches to look over the shrubbery to the beach below. "Can yo see anything?" inquired Emma. "Scarcely, it is growing so dusky. The evenings are shortening, I can scarcely make out the steamer, and the little boat like a speck putting off from her side. It is coming toward our landing-place. I wonder who it can be." THE SERPENT IN EDEN. 213 "I think I can guess. It is your clerical admirer, my dear Mrs. Grey," said Emma, with an arch smile. A deep blush tinged the young widow's cheek, as she murmured: "Do not mock me, dearest! You know that my heart is buried in the grave of my dear husband." "Oh, pardon me I pardon me! my words were very thoughtless!" The widow put her arms around the maiden and kissed her, for all answer. "The boat has landed," said Mrs. Grey. And as she spoke a crunching step was heard through the brushwood. And presently, sure enough, the slight figure of the Rev. Mr. Lyle was seen rapidly approaching the house. He came up the terrace, and up the steps leading to the porch, and then paused before the two ladies. He bowed to Miss Cavendish, and shook hands with her first. And then he turned and offered his hand to Mrs. Grey, who received it with grave and gentle courtesy, "I hope you are both quite well," he said. "Quite; thanks," answered Enrma. "And you . " inquired the widow, with tender glance and pathetic tone, that in no way belonged to the heart that was buried in the grave of her husband. "II-Ah!" sighed the minister, with a meaning look. "Mrs. St. John is in the drawing-room. I will go and let her know that you are here," said Miss Cavendish, bowing and retreating into the house. page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] CH'APTER XXXV. THE W IDOW'S LOVERS. A S soon as the minister and the widow were left alone, he took her hand, and looking earnestly into her beautiful face, murmured in a faltering voice: "You ask me how I amI Ah, Mary! how can I be, with this agonizing uncertainty torturing -my life?" "Hush hush There need be no uncertainty if you would take my first answer once for all. You know what that was: ' My heart is buried with my husband; I cannot love again,"'" she answered. "Yes, yes; but you are so kind and good as to add that you liked, and even esteemed me. And I urged you by that liking and esteem to give me some hope, however slight, that at some time, however distant, you might give me the blessed privilege of wiping all tears from your dear eyes, and devoting my life to making yours, if not loving and happy, at least sheltered and peaceful. For without such hope, I felt that I should die. And what was your reply, beloved?" "Weakly and miserably I answered that, at some period of the far future, if I should live so long, and if I could so school my broken heart, I might possibly give you my poor empty hand. I am sorry for it now. I implore you to forgive me." "And upon that hope I have lived, but suffered-oh; how intensely! The suspense is becoming intolerable. I beseech you to end it." (214) \ . : THE WIDOW'S LOVERS. 215 "I can end it in one way. I can tell you that I can never, never be your wife." "Oh, not in that way! not in that. You would not kill me!" murmured Mr. Lyle, turning deadly pale,-and sinking upon the bench. "Listen, Mr. Lyle. You must be brave and patient, and give me time to rally from my present state." "Time, beloved! I would wait any time. Aye, as long as Jacob served for Rachel would I serve for you, if I could but be sure of possessing you at last. Give me that ASSURANCE, Mary!" he passionately implored. "I wish I could. But how can I. I can only give you hope. But if I cannot be sure of myself, and if you cannot be sure of me, at least you can trust in Providence- the best assurance of all." "My comfort and my hope, I will try to do that. But --I may die in the trying!" "Not so. You will live," she murmured, putting her hand in his. He pressed it ardently to his lips and to his heart. And she did not attempt to withdraw it, but she tenderly whispered: "I will give you this one promise at least-to marry you, if ever I marry at all." "Heaven bless you for these words, dear love I With this I will try to be content,"' he said, again fervently press- ing her hand to his lips. - The next day in the morning, Mr. Lyle preached in the school-room to a well-pleased young congregation. .In the afternoon he went and preached to the negro missiop church, three miles up the country. He returned to a late tea, and spent the evening in the drawing-room in conver- sation with Mrs. Grey. On Monday he took the down steamer to the city. And the young girls said among page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] v *- x v. a AXv JLIV J IJ ti N ,D themselves what a pity it was that "Mrs. Grey's heart was buried in the grave of her dead husband," when poor dear Mr. Lyle was so good and so nice, and so devoted to her. Mr. Lyle was not the only victim of the childlike wid- dow's aharms. The old French master, the middle-aged German master and the young dancing-master were all stricken. These poor gentlemen did not reside within the walls of the school, but had lodgings in the village, a mile Inland, whence each came twice a week to give lessons. No two of them came on the same day. Monsieur Le lCompte came on Mondays and Thursdays; Mynheer Von Hegel on Tuesdays and Fridays; and Signor Balletini on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Thus it happened that they never met at the institution. And while each one was the devoted lover of the beautiful young widow, he was unsuspicious of the pretensions of the other two. Mary Grey firted secretly and demurely with each one; told each, with tears in her beautiful eyes, that her heart was buried in the grave of her husband; but that if ever she should be able to rally from her deep despair, or marry ay, I one at all, she would marry him. Thus, while falsely dealing and cruelly trifling with the honest and manly loye of her suitors, she contrived to re- tain their confidence and esteem. Little old Monsieur Le Compte, the French master, was the first to grow jetlous--not of his confreres in the school, however, but of the Rev. Mr. Lyle. It happened in this way. The little Frenchman was just entering the house to give his French lesson on that Monday morning, when he chanced to witness a very ten- der leave-taking between the minister and the widow.' He bowed with vast politeness in passing the pair, but then THE WIDOW'S LOVERS. 217 went into his class-room fiercely champing his grey mus- tache. Presently his pupils entered under the charge of the youthful widow, whose duty it was to attend the young ladies while they were receiving lessons from their mas- ters. It never entered into the mind of the lady Principal that the beautiful young widow needed quite as much watching as any giddy girl under her charge. The old French master performed all his duties on this trying morning in the most unexceptionable manner, only occasionally half betraying his intense inward excitement by fiercely devouring his grey mustache. But when the lessons were over, and Mary Grey mar- shalled her young charge to march them from the room, Monsieur Le Compte made a most profound bow, and with the utmost politeness, said: "One moment with you, madame, if you please." Mary gray bowed and smiled sweetly, waved her hand to the young ladies as a signal that they should go on to the general school hall without her, and then returned to the class-room. With an excess of courtesy that suggested sarcasm, Monsieur Le Compte conducted her to a seat, took a chair * beside her, and began: "Excuse me, madame, but I was one witness to the adieux most tender of M onsieur le Cure." "Ah, yes!" sighed Mrs. Grey, with perfect self-posses- sion. "Dear Mr. Lyle! I respect him very much. And he pities me deeply. He was a very dear friend and class- mate of my sainted husband." "a h bien I And he would be like Oto be life-mate of the sainted husband's widow," snarled the old Frenchman through his gray mustache, "Ah! but that, you know, is quite impossible." "I know not that. He is one lover, madame. One page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. suitor to your hand! And you smile on him--you! Now then, madame!'P said the little old man, working himself up into a passion, " when I lay my hand, my fortune, my talents, my ancient name, one of the most noble in la Bre- tagne-when I lay them all at your feet, what say you to me? You say in effect, 'My heart it is buried in de grave vis my husband. But if I ever dig it up, I give it to you, Monsieur Le Compte!"Is this not?' The widow's lips twitched with the smile that it took all her art to turn into a sigh, as she answered: "Something lizw that I said to you, Monsieur. And here I repeat it. I shall probably never marry at all. But if I ever marry any one, I will marry you." "Then why you smile upon my rival, why? I will have the satisfaction of Monsieur le Cure. I will go to de cit6 and find him, and have one grande satisfaction, I!" -said the excitable little Frenchman, jumping up and gestic- ulating. "Monsieur! Monsieur!" cried the beauty, in a coaxing I tone, " you frighten me! You will frighten me away from the school and the neighborhood, if you talk and act in this 'way. Listen to reason." "I vill not listen to de reason! I vill have de satisfac- tion!" exclaimed the little man. "Will Monsieur Le Compte reflect that he is now threatening and terrifying a poor woman?" said Mrs. Grey rather coldly. "]Mon Dieu, yes I I am one villainel Mais my brain is on fire! Pardon! Pardon! belle Marie! And tell me onoe more-"' "If, I ever can bring myself to marry any one, I will marry you, my dear and honored friend," said Mary Grey, extending her hand to him. He seized it and kissed it rapturously, exclaiming: THE WIDOW'S LOVERS. 219 "Angel! angell angel.! I vill live on your sweet promise." "And now I have to give my lessons. You will ex- ouse me now?" she murmured, gently withdrawing her hand. And the little man instantly changed back from the ar- dent lover to the conventional gentleman, as he made her a profound bow and withdrew. The beauty smiled to herself with intense satis- faction. "If I have so much power over so many, men of differ- ferent ages, characters, temperaments and professions, what may I not do for myself? If I can utterly subdue to my will first a grave, hard lawyer, next a stern, ascetic pas- tor, then a little withered French refugee, then a solemn German philosopher, then a volatile Italian boy, so that each one is ready to die for my sake, why may I not con- quer some conqueror who will be able to lift me to a high seat in the land? Ah! these poor fools of -parsons and professors! They are very good 'to practice on, to keep my hand in. But how can! either of them ever imagine that I would throw myself away upon him? Bah!"I And so she sauntered on into the class-ro m, where her pupils awaited her. i ' The next day, Tuesday, she had a scene with her phleg- matic German adorer. He came as usual to give his lesson to his class. But having given it, in the presence of Mrs. Gray, he still lin- gered. She bowed to him and marshalled her girls out, yet he still lingered in the deserted clasB-room. Mrs. Grey took her young charges to their recitation- room, and then, being off duty for a few hours, she walked up and down the piazza. page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] a"nv A :BEAUTIFUL FIEND. While she was thus refreshing herself, a little negro page came to her and said: "Please'm, Mr. One Haydel say please he wants to speak to you one zminnit, if you come to where he is." "Mynheer Von Hegel\Where is he?" asked Mrs. Grey. "Please'm, he is in the same room where he larns de young ladies." "Oh, yes".o back and tell the Professor that I will come directly," she said as with a conscious smile she arose and followed her little messenger. Herr Von Hegel was a stout, black-haired and full- bearded man, of middle age. He stood in the room in a firm attitude, and with a very resolute expression of coun- tenance. He placed a chair, and motioned Mrs. Grey to take it. She sat down smiling. "Frau Grea," he said very calmly, "there ish a report in the village vere I Iodge, and vich I find confirmed here in the school vere I teach, to dish effect. S'all I dell you dis report?" "Certainly, Mynheer, if it interests you," smilingly an- swered the beauty. "It is, then, that you are-what you call. it?-financ6e -betrothed to a parson. Is dis true?" " Oh, Mynheer Von Hegel! How can you ask me such a question, after all that I have said to you?" inquired Mrs. Grey reproachfully. "It is a common report what I tell you," persisted the Professor. "A common reportl And you can give heed to a common report, after all I have promised you! You must have forgotten it." "Nein. It is written on my heart You promised, if ever you marry at all, to marry no man but me. Yah. It is written on my heart," said the Professor, laying his - J vu y) THE WIDOW S LOVERS. 221 hand upon his left vest pocket, but speaking as stolidly as if he had said, it is written in my account book." "Then have faith in the word of a gentle-woman, Herr Von Hegel, and pay to attention to idle reports." "I will notl I will notl I only wanted the word of the Frau to reassure me," said the Professor, bowing. "And now pardon me, and permit me to go to my pupils, who await me," said Mrs. Grey, and with a courtesy she gracefully withdrew from the room. -r "My power! My power! Oh I how shall I turn it to my profit?" said the widow to herself, as she sauntered on toward her class-room. But the trials and triumphs of her beauty and coquetry were not yet over, even for the week. On the next day appeared her third professional admirer, Signor Balletini, the dancing-master. It was his usual day for giving a lesson.' But he came into his class-room looking the very reverse of a dancing-master. His face was pale and haggard; his black hair rough and neglected, his dress as shabby and as dowdy as he dared to have it, his manner languid and careless. "I hope that you are not ill, Signor," said Mary Grey kindly, as she met him, with her pupils. "Signora mia, I kill myself with the grief! I am in despair I I kill myself with grief unless you tell me now to live for your dear sake!" he muttered in a low tone, close to her ear. "Hush! hush I you will set the children to wondering. Talk to me after the lessons are over," murmured Mary Grey, in a tone too low to reach the -ears of any but the man to whom they were addressed. He bowed, and seemed to try to control himself. And he began to give his lessons; but he made so many mis- takes that even the youngest pupils tittered. 4 page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 A BEAUTIFUL. FIEND. The" dancing lessons were over at last. And as these were the last lessons of the day, the pupils were dismissed, Then the young professor turned to the drawing-mis. tress, and said: Speak now Ah I carissima mia! Tell me it is a false- hood I Tell me it is an invention of il diavolo!" " What is, Antonio mio?" "This report-this story that you marry with the Pro- testant padre." * "What nonsense, Antonio, mio / If I ever marry at all, I marry only with Antonio!" sighed the beauty, hold- ing out her hand with a tender smile. "Ah I Maria! Angela! Bellissima! Carissima! You make me so happy again! They are lies, then, these stories?" "All lies, Antonio mio. Believe this, if I ever marry man, I will marry you " "I do believe it, carissima bellissima! dearest! most beautiful I " exclaimed the ardent Italian, covering her hand with passionate kisses. "And now, Antonio, you must not linger here longer, , to get the poor drawing-mistress talked about," she said. "No, no! not for the world! not for Heaven! Good- night I good-nightl Good-night, sweetest, dearest, most beautiful l" said the young professor, seizing and pressing her hand to his lips, to his brow, to his breast. Thus the unprincipled"-beauty, to satisfy the cravings of her insatiable vanity, trifled with the honest love of all her suitors. CHAPTER XXXVI. THE GOOD, AN THE EVIL GENIUS. We like not most, what/most, to self, is twin, But that which best splies the void within.--SoAsSPEABs. ' i f7THAT is the (matter, darling?" softly inquired VV Mary Grey, ab she entered Emma Cavendish's chamber and found her with her head bent upon the centre- table at which she was sitting. Emma looked up, and smiled through her tears as she pointed to an .open letter upon which she had been leaning. "No ill news, I hope, sweetest?" asked the widow, in caressing tones. ( No, no very ill news, and nothing more than I expect- ed. Yet, indeed, I feel disappointed and saddened. My father has lost his reelection," said Emma quietly. "Ah,I am so grieved!" murmured Mary Grey, in deeply sympathetic tones. "And my dear father is so wise and good a man, so pure a politician 1" sighed Emma. "Oh, I feel so sorry, so sorry!" murmured Mary Grey. "'It is not really worth sorrow or regret.. And if my dear father could only be made to think so, I should not feel either," said Emma. "As for myself, I do not regret that this will be our last winter in town. I do not like city life or public life. I love rural life and rural work. (223) page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. And how come out with me, and let us take a walk down by the river side." "Yes, love. Let me get my hat," agreed Mrs. Grey. And she crossed the passage to her own room, and soon emerged from it with a pretty little crape hat perched upon the top of her shining black hair, looking altogether very beautiful. They went down stairs, and found Laura Lytton prac- tising her music lesson on the harp. RCome, Laura. You have already been at that in- trument longer than the regulation hour.- Come out and walk," said Emma Cavendish. And Laura gladly left the harp, took up her hat, that was near at hand, and joined her companions. They walked out upon the lawn, where they saw many groups of their young schoolmates) some sitting under; the trees, some in the arbors, and some by the fountains; for it was their evening recreation hour. The three friends passed all these, and took a narrow path leading through the gayly tinted autumn woods down to the river side. The sun was near his setting when they reached the banks, and sat down upon a heap of dried leaves. "Can anything be more gorgeous than this scene in autumn? Here is almost a conflagration of colors!" said Emma, thriowing her eyes in delight over the- glorious scene. "'Fire-works!' What fire-works ever, equalled these magnificent and splendid corruscations?" she added reflectively. And indeed the scene was illumined to a height that no iwords could reach. The sun was setting in a blaze of crinmson light. The westerit horizon was piled with crimson, golden, purple, orange, scarlet and salmon colored clouds. The woods on THE GOOD AND THE EVIL GENIUS. 225 the island, and the forests on the mountainous banks of the river, were all clothed in the brilliant autumn hues of gold- en, purple, orange, deep green and glowing scarlet. And all their gorgeous leaves flamed as if on fire, with the daz- zling rays of the sinking sun. And the girls sat in silent adoration until the sun sank below the horizon, and the "after glow" gradually changed into deeper and richer hues, and darkened into twilight." "Let us return to the house now," said Fmma. "I could sit here all night, to watch the stars come out and the moon rise; but Mrs. St. John's rules are as the laws of the Medes and Persians, never to be chang'ed or diso- beyed." And so saying she arose, followed by her two friends, and went back to the house, which they reached just as the tea bell was ringing. That evening -Emma Cavendish spent in writing to her father, sympathizing with him in his late disappointment, but at the same time using every argument that her young wisdom could suggest to convince him that it was much better for him to have a rest from public life for a year or two, and predicting that he would certainly be called from his retirement to take a seat in the Senate of the United States, or in the Cabinet at Washington. Finally she asked his permission to join him, for the Christmas holidays, in the city, and to bring with her two friends from the school whom she had already, in anticipation of his consent, taken the liberty to invite. Within three days afterward, Miss Cavendish received an answer from her father, thanking her for her sympathy and condolence; assuring her that no political disappoint- ment could ever seriously affect his happiness, so long as ne had hi4wise and loving little inEmma to console him, and finally telling her to bring as many young friends as she " page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 v A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. . / pleasedfrom the school, as he should welcome them al. And this being the last winter of his official residence in the city, he should make the most of his time and opportu- nity in conferring as much benefit and pleasure as possible upon his daughter and her/young guests. Emma, in delight, showed this letter to Mrs. Grey and to Laura Lytton, who were very much pleased with the cordial invitation. "But, my'dear, you actually invited us before you had asked your father's leave to do so," said Mrs. Grey. "Oh, as for that, my asking him was only a form at last. If I were to take a dozen young friends to the house unannounced, he would only be the more surprised, and not the 1%ss pleased. And just see what he writes," said EFmma, reading from his letter. "'Bring as many young friends as you please. They shall all be cordially welcome.' And now, Mrs. Grey and dear Laura, I have a mind to add one more to our Christmas party, if you have no ob- jection." "Why, of course we have no objection, dear Emma. What possible right have we to make any objection to any guest you may choose to- invite?" said Mrs. Grey, raising her beautiful eyebrows. "You have the right of members of the party; and so, if the newly-proposed member be -not agreeable to you, you have the right of voting her down," replied Emma. - Being nominated by you, she will be sure to be agree- able to us," observed Laura. "I don't know. You must hear who she is first," sug- gested Emma. "Let us hear then," laughed Laura. "Electra," answered Emma softly. "ELECTRA!" simultaneously exclaimed both her com- panions. ELECTRA. 227 "There, I thought I should surprise and perhaps dis- gust you. Never mind. I can leave the child out this time, and perhaps invite her on some future occasion," said Miss Cavendish gravely, "You mistake us very much, dear Emma. We are sur- prised indeed, but so far from being disgusted that we are delighted," said Mrs. Grey earnestly. "Yes, indeed. It is perfectly delicious to think how that poor friendless girl will enjoy herself with us!" eager- ly exclaimed Laura. "And it is so lovely in you, you good, brave girl, to think of inviting her. No one but you would venture to do so," added Mrs. Grey, caressing Emma. CHAPTER XXXV11. ELECTRA. THS Electra, whom Emma Cavendish kindly intended to invite to spend the Christmas holidays with her at her father's house, was a child of mystery, if not of sin. And this is all that was-then known of her. A few days previous to the conversation related in the last chapter, on a very cold day, the down steamer stopped at a landing opposite the island for fuel, as those steamers often did. While there she sent off a boat with two passengers, and a quantity of luggage, whom she landed on the island. Then came up to the house a venerable elderly gentle- man, with a commanding figure, white hair and a long white beard, and dressed in a suit of clerical-black. He had in his charge a young girl, with a very dark page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. complexion and very black hair and eyes, and who was protected from the weather by the ri chest sable furs. He sent in his card and afterward introduced himself to Mrs. St. John as the Rev. Dr. Jones, and presented his companion as his ward, Miss Electra, the daughter of de- ceased friends, and explained that he wished to place her under Mrs. St. John's charge. He apologized for bringing her so near the end of the current term, instead of waiting for the commencement of the next ensuing one, by saying that he was on the eve of a voyage to Europe, and wished, before his departure, to leave his young charge in a safe and permanent home. He then paid in advance for a year's board and tuition with all the " extras," and placed an additional sum of mon- ey in the hands of Mrs. St. John, to be used at her discre- tion for the incidental expenses' of Miss Electra, explaining that, as he would be absent for at least eight or ten months, he considered it best to leave ample funds in the hands of the Principal for the benefit of her pupil. And then he - suddenly started up, saying that he had to catch the steam- er before her departure from the wood-wharf opposite, and that the rowhoat was waiting for him at the island landing. And he kissed and solemnly blessed Electra, gravely bowed to the lady, murmuring that he would write to her from the city, and hurried away before Mrs. St. John could recover from her astonishment. Before her sat the dark young girl,- in the rich sable furs. "My dear, are you fatigued?" inquired-the lady. "Not at all, madam. The voyage on the boat was very pleasant, and I feel quite fresh," frankly answered the dark girl. "Then perhaps you had better join your future com- panions and make their acquaintance. They are playing cgroquet on the lawn. Would you like to go there?" EL EC TR A. 229 "If you please, madam." Mrs. St. John touched the bell, and the little page made his appearance. "Go out to the lawn, William, and ask Miss Lytton to be so good as to come to me," she said. "And here, go also to the porter and tell him to bring up the trunks and other luggage that he may find at the landing." The boy vanished, and his disappearance was soon -fol- lowed by the entrance of Lura Lytton. "My dear Laura," began the Principal, "this young lady is a new pupil, just -arrived at the school-Miss-Miss Ec- cleson," she said, hesitating for a moment, as if to recall the name. "And Miss Eccleson, my love, this is Miss Laura Lytton. She will be your angel and introduce you to your new companions," she conclude lacing the hand of the new-comer into that of Laura Lytton. Laura smiled on Electra, and' to\kher from the room and out among the young girls on the eoquet ground. Mrs. St. John then looked at the heavy roll of bank- notes in her hands, of between two and three thousand dollars. But she did not feel quite contented. "I never concluded any business of such importance so suddenly in my life," she said to herself. And then she remembered that she had not asked for a reference, nor had Dr. Jones offered to give one. JNor had he asked for a receipt for the large sum of money paid into her hands, nor had she tendered one. "There was never business done so suddenly or irregu- larly before, I do believe," she murmured uneasily. The respectable and even most venerable appearance of the guardian, and his liberal and even munificent ad- vances of money, might have satisfied her;' but somehow they did not. She walked uneasily about the room until she paused near a side-table on which lay Electra's sable page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. muff and morocco bag. With these lay a small sealed packet, which she took up, and found directed to her- self: "MRS. ST. JOHN, Principal, Mount Ascension Academy for Young Ladies." She opened the packet, expecting perhaps to find some note or letter of further explanation, addressed to herself. But she found only a-bunch of keys carefully wrapped up, and with an oval-shaped silver label attached to the ring and inscribed with the single name: "ELECTRA." "Electra!" said the lady; " that, after all, was the name he introduced her by. But Electra is a baptismal name. I wonder what her family name is! Strange that her guar- dian- should have omitted to mention it." And so saying, she took the bunch of keys that had been directed to her care, and went out into the hall, where she found the porter waiting with two large trunks and a travelling bag. "Take them up into the wardrobe room, and send the wardrobe waitress to me," she said. A quarter of an hour after this Mrs. St. John stood in the school wardrobe room, with the wardrobe room wait- ress in attendance upon her. The trunks, locked and strapped, were upon the floor oeforethem. Each trunk and the carpet-bag were labelled with the single name, "Electra." "Open the trunks, Sarah, and unpack and put away the clothes in proper order," said Mrs. St. John, as she sat down and watched the process. The woman'very carefully unstrapped and unlocked the trunks, and began to remove the dresses that lay folded in th e trays upon the top. These dresses were in the uni- form colors worn by the pupils of the school, but were of ! ELECTRA. 231 the finest and richest materials. They were carefully shaken out and hung up in the wardrobes, Another tray contained a priceless camel's hair shawl, a fine black lace ditto, and Roman scarfs and sashes. And under these, in the body of the trunk, were quantities of the finest linen, trimmed with the rarest lace. All this exquisite linen, as well as all other articles of under-clothing, were marked with the one single,-name: "Electra." The second trunk being opened, displayed more costly dresses and more fine linen, all marked with the same strange name. They were carefully unpacked, and trans- ferred to wardrobes and bureaus. The third trunk was found to contain an elegant dress- ing-case, work-box, and writing-desk, a casket of jewels, a case of school silver, and an assortment of books and sta- tionery, every 'article of which was stamped with the "strange device," "Electra." But there was no- other name, or clue to a name. Mrs. St. John was perplexed, and in her perplexity she sent for her favorite assistant teacher, Mary Grey. And when the assistant entered the roomfthe Principal dismissed the waitress and sat down with the widow for a tete-a-tete consultation. "But where does this Reverend Doctor Jones come from?" inquired Mrs. Grey, when she had heard the whole story. "There I He never told me. And I never thought to ask him. Everything was hurried over so quickly. But he said he'd write from the city. I hope he will do so, and I hope he will also give me all the information he omitted in his hasty departure." "He did go off in the boat then?" "Oh, yes!" page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Perhaps you may never see or hear from him again. I have read of cases where children have been palmed off upon unwary teachers, before now," said Mrs. Grey. "Oh, I am not afraid of anything like that. The age, appearance and profession-of the man place him far above suspicion. And besides, my dear, he paid me fifteen hundred dollars in advance for board, tuition and extras, and placed one thousand dollars in my hands for incidental expenses." "Oh, indeed!" "Yes, really. And he forgot to ask for a receipt, which I also forgot to offer him. But then the whole transaction was so sudden and unexpected, and was hurried over so rapidly. You see, he wished to catch the boat, which of course would not wait for him." "I see!" "But what I wished to speak to you about is the stirangeness of one other circumstance, the strangest of all."' "Yes, well?" "The Rev. Dr. Jones introduced this young girl as Miss Electra.' I understood him at the time to say Eccleson but I was mistaken. It is 'Electra.' And she seems to have no other name. All her under-clothing, which is of the finest material, trimmed with the most cost- ly lace, and all her school silver, which is of the most mas- sive and elaborate workmanship-I mention these circum- stances, my dear, not in the spirit of gossip, but merely to show you there is wealth in the case--all these personal effects, I say, of fine linen and heavy silver, are marked with the simple, single name, 'Electra! ' Now what do you think of that?" "Queer," said the widow sententiously. "What would you advise, my dear Mary?" - "Send for the young girl, and question her kindly." "Just my thought. Will you go for her, my dear?" E L ECTR A. 233 "Certainly," said Mrs. Grey, and off she went on her errand. She soon returned, bringing Electra with her. Mrs. St. John now took a good look at the girl. Electra was about fifteen years of age, tall, slender and perfectly formed, with an elegantly shaped head, set upon a stately, graceful neck. She had lustrous blue-black hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, and intensely brilliant bluerblack eyes, that flashed with every glance. She had glowing crimson cheeks an crimson lips, and gleaming white teeth. And every time She spoke or glanced, the simultaneous flash of her ey and gleam of her teeth had something startling in their expression. "Sit down, my dear. Do not be afraid," said Mrs. St. John, conscious that she was about to put the young orphan stranger under a severe cross-examination. "I am not afraid,': flashed Electra, taking her seat. "I think, my dear," began the lady, slightly wincing before this keen maiden--"I think your guardian omitted to tell me your family name. He introduced you simply as 'Miss Electra,' did he not?" "Yes, Madam; for I have no family name, and no fame ily, as far as I know-at least none that acknowledge me." "Mrs. St. John was struck perfectly dumb. But Mrs. Grey came to her help by asking sweetly: "Will you tell us then, my dear, where you were brought up?--if you have no objection, I mean." "Oh, no, I have 9o objection at all. Indeed, I mean to tell you all about myself, so that I may not stay here under false pretences," gleamed Electra, so vividly that Mrs. Grey shut her eyes for a moment before she said: , ' Go on then, my dear." "Well, then, I never knew my father or my mother, or my real name. When T first knew myself I was a very page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 34 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. little child, very thin and pale, half naked and half starved, all eyes and hair, like a famished bird that is all feathers." "What a comparison I But where did you live?" "In a miserable open sewer, miscalled a street, in the Fourth Ward of New York-a place of rags and filth and putrescence; of drunkenness, disease and famine; of swear- ing, fighting and thieving; a place fill of sickening smells and horrid sights and fearful sounds--a hell on earth." "Electral Electra! you must not use such strong lan- guage!" exclaimed Mrs. Grey, stopping, her ears. "I cannot tell my story without it. But of course I I can be silent," flashed the girl. "Go on, child I Go on!" said Mrs. St. JAhn in an agi- tated voice. "I lived in a cellar, dark, damp, filthy, musty, and in- rested with rats, mice, roaches and centipedes. But I lay as often in the gutter outside as in the mud inside. I lived there with a red-nosed swearing woman, and a one-eyed fighting man." "Not your parents?" said Mrs. Grey, with a shudder. "Oh, no, not my parents; for every time they sent me out to beg for them and I came in without pennies enough to buy them whiskey, they relieved their feelings by beating me, and calling me a ' beggar's brat."' "Hush, hush, Electral Those are shocking words," said Mrs. Grey. "I told you I could not tell my story in soothing ones," said the girl. "Let her tell her story in her own way. Proceed, Electra," said Mrs. St. John. "One night," continued the girl, "the thieving, drilsk- ing, swearing and fighting performances in the sewer mis- called a street, were varied with a murder. The one-eyed man in a drunken frenzy killed the red-nosed woman. He EL EC T RA. 235 was dragged of -to -the Tombs. She was buried in the pauper graveyard; and I was taken to Heaven." "To Heaven?" echoed Mrs. St. John and Mrs. Grey in a breath, both looking at the strange girl as if they thought her insane. "To Heaven," repeated Electra emphatically, "Indeed, without a metaphor, it seemed to me to be Heaven. There used to be a young man, in a black coat and clean face and hands, who used to come down to our sewer, miscalled a street, and preach to us on Sunday afternoons, and tell us about Heaven and how to get there. He generally lost his pocket handkerchief, and anything else that might be in his pockets, but the people seemed to gain nothing. Indeed, they were too much engaged in thinking how to live on this earth from day to day, to care much about how they were to get to Heaven. But as for me, I gained an idea of the Better Land that may be best expressed in Watts' beautiful hymn." "Yes, I know it," said Mrs. Grey. "It was my dear, departed, sainted husband's favorite hymn: "' Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, Stand dress'd in living green; So to the Jews fair Canaan stood While Jordan roll'd between.' Was not that it?" "Yes, madam, that was it. So you may judge, there- fore, that when I was taken away from the horrible sewer, miscalled a street, and put on board a fine boat and carried down a beautiful broad river to where a lovely island lay 'beyond the swelling flood,' and 'sweet fields' stood 'dressed in living green,' I thought I had crossed death's stream and come to Heaven!" "What place was it really, dear?" inquired Mrs. Grey. "Oh, it was only the Infants' Nursery on Randall's page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] - -- v a - = , ,a,.- A Islands in East River, New York. But I was a four-year- old child taken out of a cellar in a sewer, miscalled a street, and I thought it was Heaven!'" "Poor babyl " sighed Mrs. St. John. "And oh, I do not think that the change can be much greater, to an ordinary infant taken out of an average home in this world, and conveyed by angels to the gardens of Paradise, than it was to me, taken'from the sewer mis- called a street, and transferred to the Nursery on Randall's Island. There I found out, for the first time, the delights of a clean skin, clean clothes, clean bed, and clean food and drink; of kind faces and kind words; of sweet com- panionship with other children of my age; of play out under the green trees and the bright sky; of the music of birds, and the fragrance of flowers. Later on I tasted the pleasure of acquiring knowledge. I went regularly to school. I learned the story of the strange earth on which we live, and of the nations who inhabited it. I learned music and drawing and elocution. I led a happy life on the Island until one day, when I was about fourteen years of age, I was notified that if I were not soon claimed by some one who could show a better right to me, I should be bound out to service by the Commissioners of Charity." "Poor child!" murmured Mrs. St. John. "It was a terrible hearing for me. I did not believe I lad a ffiend in the world outside the Island. I had no 'eason to believe so. The woman who had been the yrant of my infancy was killed. The man who had killed ter was in the State prison for life. There were regular isiting days on the Island, when the children's friends, if hey had any, came to see them, but no one ever came to ee me. I had therefore no hope for any escape from the treaded binding out, until one day there came a visitor me." CHAPTER XXXV-ll A CHANGE OF FORTTIXE. A A H!" said Mrs. Grey, with a sigh of relief. Yes," continued Electra, "and a visit to mze was a very surprising event, and not altogether unalarming either; surprising, because, in all the years I had passed on the Island, no visitor had ever come near me; and rather alarming, because the people that came on the reg- ular visiting days to see the other children, and occasion- ally to claim them and take them away, mostly resembled the denizens of that open sewer, miscalled a street that I remembered so well as the home of my infancy. And I always thought such dreadful people carried the children- away from the pleasant Island to just such dreadful places." "That ought not to be allowed," sighed Mrs. Grey. "But about your visitor, my dear?- "He was not one of that sort. When I was taken down into the matron's parlor, I found waiting for me this Rev. Dr. Jones, the same old gentleman who brought me here." Now Mrs. St. John drew her chair nearer to the young speaker, and listened intently. "When I saw the gentleman, my fears took another direction. I thought he had come to get me bound to him as a servant; but he looked very kindly at me, and held out his hand, and called me to him by a name I had never (237) page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] - J LU JU J H JN E D heard before; Electra. And of course I did not under- stand, and so I stood still until he said again: "Electra! come to me, my child." "Then I went to him. And he took my hand and drew me closer, and gazed long and silently into my eyes, and then at length inquired: "'Electra, my poor child, why did the Commissioners give you such a strange name as Sarah Xifdd2' "'Because, sir, I never had any name of my own.' "'How was that, poor child?' "'Because in Rat Alley, where the Commissioners found me, I used to live with a woman named Sal, and the people there used to call me Sal's kid, meaning Sal's child. They never called me anything else but Sal's kid,' I think that was the reason the Commissioners called me Sarah Kidd," I said. "'Of course that is not your name. Your name is Electra,' heztold me, putting his hand under my chin, and gazing -wistfully into my face. "'Electra--what, sir?' I then ventured to inquire. "'Nothing,' he answered. 'You have no other name -can have no other until, at some future time, when it shall please Heaven to provide you with a good husband., "I looked down, feeling very much troubled indeed; for I knew very well what having no name meant. And here was this kind old gentleman justifying the affronts that used to be put upon me in Rat Alley. He did not notice my trouble, but soon looked at me very kindly, and asked: "'Electra, how would you like to leave this place with me, and enter as a pupil into some young ladies' boarding- school, where you could be educated in the higher branches of knowledge, and trained in the more elegant accomplish- ments?' A CHANGE-- OF FORTUNE. 239 "Oh, I should like that above everything in this world!" I answered with perfect truth. "'Then I will take you away to-day,' he said. "The necessary arrangements were soon completed. He sent over to Harlem and got for me a very neat cloth cloak, that nearly covered my coarse asylum dress, and also a pretty felt hat and a pair of kid gloves. Then, with some tears, I took leave of the friends of many years, and left the Island with my guardian. We crossed the river in a ferry- boat and took the Second Avenue cars to the city. "At Fourteenth street we left the car and walked to a firfe hotel, where my guardian had rooms already engaged. "As I had once mistaken Randall's Island for the king- dom of Heaven, so now I took the hotel for a magnificent palace. And oh! how my guardian enjoyed my surprise and delight! "A waiter showed me to a pleasant room, where I could rearrange my dress. And there, on the bed, I saw a large parcel, directed to 'Miss Electra.' I opened it and found a crimson corded silk dress, ready-made, and a set of lace under-sleeves, collar and pocket handkerchief. In another parcel there were a pair of neat gaiters and silk hose. "I assure you, madam, the whole affair reminded me of the fairy story, 'Beauty and the Beast,' only that I was no beauty and- my venerablesguardian no beast. But I under- stood at once what I was expected to do, so I began to dress myself. " "And did the dress fit you,' though you were never measured, for it?" inquired Mrs.- Grey, lifting her black eyebrows. Electra's dark face flashed and gleamed with mirth as- she answered: "Of course not. My dear guardian had ordered it by page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] :;' A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. guess,) for a girl of fourteen. So it was a little too large in the waist, and a trifle too short in the skirt. But I man- aged to draw it in and pull it down, until, with the addition of the lace sleeves and collar, it looked very nicely indeed. The gaiters were ever so much too large for me; but they were neatly made, and they looked well on my feet. "Altogether I scarcely knew myself when I looked in the glass. I was soon called to dinner. My guardian and I dined in a private parlor. What a feast that dinner was! "I cannot tell you how enraptured I was. It was all like fairy-land to me. And while I was sitting there be- side my guardian, I could not help thinking what sudden changes had happened in twenty-four hours." "It was enough to have turned her head, poor child," said Mrs. St. John, with a sigh. "Go on, dear," said Mary Grey impatiently. "Well, when bedtime came, I went to bed and slept soundly all night. And when I awoke late in the morn- ing, I had forgotten all that had happened to me. And at first I looked around in astonishment at the richly furnish- ed bedroom. And I could not tell where I was, nor how I got there! But in another moment memory came back to me with a rush. And I was as much astonished and de- lighted at my good fortune as if it had all just happened." "Of course," smiled Mary Grey. "I arose quickly and dressed, and went down to our private parlor, where I found my guardian waiting break- fast for me. After breakfast he took me shopping. And as my guardian told me I need not consider the cost, of course I took him at his word, and selected the very best." "Yes, dear; and perhaps you have no notion what mints of money they cost," put in Mrs. Grey. "No, I haven't. My guardian told me not to think of the cost, and so I didn't. Well, from the outfitters we A CHANGE OF. FORTUY'E. 241 went to a splendid marble palace up t6wn.. There was no name on the building, .so I haven't an idea whose establish- ment it was. But I only know it was a marble palace, and it seemed to contain all the treasures of the world collected together for those who might be able to buy them. I wanted a shawl. I thought I could get the best shawl in the world for about ten dollars. Bless you! they showed me shawls from two hundred dollars up to almost any price you like to think of." "They were probably camel's hair shawls," said Mrs. Grey. "That is what they called them. Well, I selected the richest square shawl I could find. I did not somehow fancy a long shawl." "Oh! what did it cost? I never even saw a read cam- els' hair shawl in my life. And I have no idea what the price of them is,"' said Mrs. Grey, clasping her hands. "Indeed I have forgotten; but I think it was about eight hundred dollars." "Oh! think of that, for a young girl's shawl!" exclaim- ed Mrs. Grey. "After I had got my shawl, I selected some silk dresses, some point-lace collars, cuffs and wkerchiefs, some Roman sashes and scarfs, some kid gloves, and so forth, and so forth!" s And where next?" inquired eager Mrs. Grey. "Oh, to a furrier's on Broadway. My guardian told me this was the best establishment of the sort in the city, and then he charged me to select the best articles they had for sale, adding that the best were always the cheapest. "I took him at his word, and bought a seal skin sack, muff and hood, for common use, and a set of rich Russia sables for occasions. "Happy girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Grey, forgetting, in her 15 page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. passion for fine dress, the grave role of the disconsolate widow that she had so long assumed. Mrs. St. John looked at her in mild astonishment that was felt as rebuke, for Mrs. Grey instantly remembered herself, sighed and added: C"ut, after all, these things do not constitute happiness. But go on, my dear Electra." "After that my guardian took me ' sight-seeing' for a few hours, and then we returned to our hotel. All the fine purchases had been sent home. "While we were waiting for dinner, my guardian took from the mantle shelf a half dozen or so of thin pamphlets, and sat down with them, saying: "'Electra, my child, these are the prospectuses of sev- eral of the best young ladies' boarding-schools in the coun- try. I read their advertisements first in the newspapers. Then I wrote for their prospectuses. They have arrived. Here they are. They all seem to be excellent, and each claims to be the best. You shall look over them with me and select the school of your choice.' "I drew my chair near to his, and we examined them together. It was as my guardian had said--all were ex- cellent, and each was the best. Now, dear Mrs. St. John, can you imagine why I selected this school?" "No, my dear; for though I hope that this is a good one, I have not the vanity to think of it as the best," said the Principal. "Then, dear madam, I chose the Mount Ascension Academy because it was on an island in a river I Up to that day, the happiest days of my life had been passed on an island. And I love islands dearly. So we laid away all the other little pamphlets and studied the prospectus of Mount Ascension Academy. "'I have only one objection to it,' said my good guar- A CHANGE OF FORTUNE. 243 dian. c It is so far off. This is Tuesday. And I have to take the steamer for Liverpool on Saturday.' "' Oh, dear guardian, we can hurry up,' I said, for at the hint of an obstacle my anxiety to enter this very school was excited to fever heat. "' Very well, my 'dear, we must hurry then. There will be no time to arrange for your entrance by letter. I shall have to take you there without having written. We must go out again after dinner and get your school dresses, and., other school properties that are required.' And he rang the bell and ordered the waiter to serve our dinner, and to engage a carriage to be at the door immediately afterward. "Well, madam, we dined and went out in the carriage and did a wonderfulvsight of business that afternoon. We: :i; went to a ladies' bazaar, where I selected dress goods of .; the uniform colors worn in this school, but of the finest' materials, and I was measured for a dozen that were to the made up and sent home within twenty-four hours. '-Then we went to a silversmith, where my guardian .hiself se. lected for me the goblets, spoons and forks of, -hie aviest make. He directed these to be engraved with my name and sent in the next afternoon. We then called at a book. store and selected the class books; and lastly to a trunk maker's, where I bought three trunks. Then we went home, or rather to- the hotel, to supper and to bed. "The next day, Wednesday, I spent in packing my trunks, as fast as the goods came in. The dresses came last of all, so they were put in the trays, on the top. "That afternoon my guardian settled the hotel bill, and we took the evening train to Washington, connected with the morning train to Richmond, where we immediately took the down steamer to Mount Ascension, where we ar- rived this Thursday afternoon. My guardian was obliged to hurry off in the way he did, in order to return to New page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Yor]k in time to secure the steamer that sails on Satur day, for Liverpool. That is my story, Mrs. St. John," con- cluded Electra. "There is one thing I would like to understand, my dear. You speak and behave more like a young lady quite accustomed to good society, than like a child brought up in an orphan asylum," said Mrs. Grey, "I do not know whether I do or not, ma'am., I mean, I did not know until you told me. But I have had better' advantages than most orphan asylum children. I was much with the Warden's family, and with the Chaplain's. They liked me. And because I was fond of reading, they used to lend me books and papers to read in my leisure time. I tried to improve'myself." "Ah, that accounts for it all," said Mrs. Grey. "And now, my dear," said Mrs. St. John very gravely, "Mrs. Grey and myself will respect the confidence that you repose in us, and will never speak of the wrongs and sufferings of your infancy. And I would earnestly counsel you also to maintain a wise reticence toward your young companions. They have not had the same experience that you have had, and they may misunderstand and misinter- pret you. Do you understand me?" "Yes, dear Mrs. St. John, I understand you, and I will be as reserved'about my life as I possibly can be with truth. But if I should be obliged to speak at all, I must always tell the truth," said Electra. "Certainly, certainly, my child." ' For--do you know the only moral axiom my guardian gave me at parting?" "No-what was it?" "'Always to think, speak, and act the truth.' All other good deeds would follow of necessity." "A wise rule, my dear. And now you may rejoin your A CHANGE OF FORTUNE. . 245 companions. The tea bell will soon ring. Then Mrs. Grey will bring you to our own table. This is the rule of the house with a new pupil until she is classed." Such was the introduction of Electra into the school. Upon examination, she was found to be too deficient in education to be placed in any but the lowest or first class- the highest being the third. Consequently, though in age she was so near Emma Cavendish and Laura Lytton, while in attainments she was far from them, she was assigned a class-room in another pert of the Academy, and a bed in a dormitory in the opposite wing of the house from those occupied by our two young friends. She soon became a general favorite with her school- fellows, and also with the professors, who admired her more than they admired any other inmate of the house, always excepting the general fascinator, Mrs. Grey. But very often, her companions, with the curiosity and confidence of school-girls, asked her home questions about herself, as to, first: "Where did you live before you came here to school?" "In New York city," would be Electra's true reply. "Do your father and mother live there now?"' "I do not remember my father or my mother. I lost them both when I was but a baby." "Oh, how sad! Who took care of you after they died- grandmothers or grandfathers, uncles or aunts?" "Neither, I had neither. Strangers took care of me. But I had a guardian, the Rev. Dr. Jones. He put me to sch6ol here," truthfully answered Electra. "Well, you must be a very rich heiress, and he must be a very indulgent guardian, anyhow, for you have a hand- some outfit-oh yes; indeed a much handsomer outfit than any girl at this school-than even Emma ,Cavendish, the page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. goveror's daughter. Do you know how much you are worth now?" "Indeed I do not," Electra would answer. "Just think of that girls! She is so rich she does not know what she is worth!" At which all the young pupils looked at Electra with the deepest wonder and admiration. Upon which she spoke up and said: "I do not know that I am worth one dollar of my own. My guardian pays all my bills and supplies me with money." "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" exclaimed the school-girls in chorus. "Her .guardian pays all her bills and supplies her with pocket-money, and furnishes her with silks and satins, and seal-skins and sables, and camel's hair shawls, and yet, bless you, she doesn't know whether she is worth a cent!--a likely story I " said the first inquirer, laughing. And all the. other girls joined in the chorus of mirthful incredulity. But at length some curious school-girl noticed that the new pupil was never called by any other name than Electra. And so one day during the recreation hour, when all the school was assembled in the lawn in front of the build- ing, this girl suddenly inquired of the new pupil: "What's your name besides Electra? I never hear any one call you anything but Electra, or Miss Electra. What's your other name?" "My guardian never gave me any other name," an- swered the girl, flushing crimson. "Oh! I don't mean another Christian name. I mean your surname, your family name, your father's' and mother's name, you know. Everybody has that, of course. Now what is yours?" N E W RI EIENDS. 247/ "I do not remember my parents, as I told you. My guardian calls me simply Electra, and nothing else," an- swered the girl, with burning cheeks. "How queer!" exclaimed the curious young daughter of Eve. But from that hour Electra's companions, with the thoughtless crueltychool-girls, neglected and avoided her. They had many ingenious theories about her, to account for her want of a surname. But the favorite theory was that she was the daughter of "Redbeard," the notorious pirate, who had been executed in New York the pre- ceeding winter. "And, you know, being his child, she couldW't keep her family name with any credit. And that would account for her being so rich too. For of course, although he was hanged, he must have had mints and mints of hiddeu money!" CHAPTER XX X TX. leW FRIENDS. TINDIDNG Electra so cruelly neglected by her school- 1 mates, Emma Cavendish and Laura Lytton took her up from kindness, and Mrs. Grey patronized her upon speculation. She is a brave, true girl, and I love and esteem her," said Emma earnestly. "It is a burning shame for the other girls to snub her so," added Laura Lytton. "There's money in her, whoever she may be, or wherever page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. she may have come from. And gold fields are the only htuting grounds I care for," thought Mrs. Grey to herself. Mrs. St. John, the lady Principal of the school, of course had her secret likings and disliking , among so large a number of pupils; and it was inevitable that this should be so, since it was impossible to love equally well the for- ward and stupid, and the gentle and intelligent. And Electra was one of her secret favorites; but nothing of this preference appeared in her manner. She treated all her pupils with equal jnstice. Great, however, was her surprise, when one morning Emma Cavendish came to her and said: "Mrs. St. John, if you please, T should like to invite Miss Electra to p home with me to spend the Christmas holidays." "My dear! why, what are you, thinking of?" ex. claimed the lady, completely thrown off her guard. "I hope there is no objection, Madam," said Emma respectfully. "I cannot say. I do not know. The young lady is under my sole charge, both in school terms and vacations, during the absence of her guardian in Europe; but-" "I hope that you have no objection to my having Miss Electra for my guest at Christmas?" said VEmma, as the lady did not finish her sentence. "That depends, my dear. But what would your father say to this proposed visit? He does not know, you do not know, much about this young lady." "Will you please glance over this letter, Madam, and see for yourself what my dear father says?" answered 'Emma, putting the governor's open letter into the hands of the lady. Mrs. St. John looked over it and smilingly commented: i He gives you the largest liberty to carry out your NEW. FRIIENDS. 249 hospitable designs. You are to invite any or as many as you please, of your fellow-pupils, to spend the Christmas holidays with you at his residence in the city." "Yes, Madam, my dear father permits me to do as I please," respectfully answered- Emma. "And now I do hope you will aflow Miss Electra to go home with me." "I must think about it, my dear. The ease of Miss Electra is rather a peculiar one. I will think about it, and let you know this evening," said Ms. St. 'John, gravely. And Emma was forced to submit to the delay, yet she had very little doubt as to the result; and therefore she was more pleased than surprised when Mrs. St. John sent for her in the evening, and said: "My dear, I have decided to accept for Electra youT kind invitation to Richmond." "' I thank you, .Madam,"-said Emma very demurely, and the interview ended. The early winter continued very fine, the woods retain ing much of their gorgeous autumn foliage late into the month of December. But a few days before the school broke up for the holidays, the weather suddenly changed; a storm of wind and snow-arose; the last lovely crimson, golden and purple leaves were furiously whirled from the forest-trees, and the ground was covered deeply with snow, and the naked branches of the trees were sheathed with ice. The river froze over. And what, a few days before, had been a beautiful flow- ing river, banked by forest crowned mountains and dotted by lovely islands, seemed now a wintry snow-covered val- lev between two glaciers. - There was a panic in the school; for the river being closed and the'steamers stopped, there were no means of conveyance to the city except by distant stagecoadhes and- page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. railway trains; and no means of reaching even these ex. cept by private carriages. However, as this was not the first time the school had been in such a dilemma, the Principal was not unprepared for it. A self-appointed deputation of the girls called upon her in consternation, exclaiming: "Oh, dear Mrs. St. John, whatever shall we do in this world? The river is frozen over and the steamers have stopped running, and we are ice-bound here for the winter, and shall have no Christmas holidays at all." "Take comfort, my dears," said the lady; "this is not the first time this has happened, and we are not without resources. As the river is closed, so that we cannot travel by water, we must even take a lesson from the Arctic ex- plorers, and. turn our little rowhoats into sled3e ,by put- ting them upon runners, and so travel over the snow. Now what do you say to a grand sleighing party from here to the railway station at Wendover-a distance of only thirty miles--where you can take the train for Rich- mond? And from the city you can all of you reach your homes, north, west, or south." "' Oh, that sleighing party will be delightful, and I am glad now that we are ice-bound!' exclaimed the young spokeswoman of the party. "Oh yes! yes, indeed! assented all the others. And the preparations for departure went on rapidly. A messenger was dispatched over the ice to the near- est village,- to fetch a skilful' workman to set the little boats and the carriage bodies upon runners. And the girls packed their trunks. A considerable number of the pupils, however, lived within thirty or forty miles of the school. And for these young ladies comfortable sleighs were sent from their own homes to fetch them. r THE GOVERNOR AND THE CIRCE. 251 And they were the first to leave. It was a brilliant, sparkling winter day, when at length four capacious sleighs, well furnished with woollen rugs and hot bricks, stood before the foot of the lowest terrace waiting for the party that were to go to Wendover. There were nineteen young ladies in all belonging to this set. Emma Cavendish and her three guests occupied one sleigh together. And the other fifteen girls were equally distrib- uted among the remaining three sleighs. They set off, accompanied by the merry ringing of the sleigh bells and the waving of pocket handkerchiefs. And after a most exhilarating and delightful ride, or rather flight, over the silvery-fi-osted snow, they reached the Wen- dover railway station in good time to secure the up train. CHAPTER XL. THE GOVEiNOR AND THE CIRCE. From the glance of her eye Shun danger, and fly; For fatal's the glance.-TLAn MORGIAN. IT was quite late that night when the train reached the, city. In 'the crowd that thronged the platform of the station, several of the pupils recognized the friends who had come to meet them. But TCmma Cavendish looked in vain for her father until the train came to a dead halt, and she was in the act of stepping firom the car, when a pair of strong open arms received her, and folded her in a warm, hearty embrace, with the cordial words: page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] Z3)Z A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Welcome, my dearest daughter!" "My own dear father I I am so delighted to see you!" exclaimed Ermma. "Now show me your friends," said lar. Cavendish, hastily releasing her, and preparing to assist her compan- ions to get out of the car. And as they appeared, Miss Cavendish named them in succession: "Mrs. Grey; Miss Lytton; Miss Electra." Mr. Cavendish shook hands with each young lady in turn, .cordially welcoming her to the city. "And now the carriage waits, ladies. Permit me the pleasure of taking you to it," he said, with stately courtesy, as he offered his arm to the beautiful widow. "Thanks, sir; but I fear that I shall have to let you go on without me. I have here in charge several young lady pupils whose friends have not yet appeared to claim them. So I am forced to remain with them until they shall be taken off my hands by their proper guardians," answered Mrs. Grey with a sigh, and a smile of suffering patience that was very touching. Governor Cavendish raised his brows in surprise. He now appeared to observe the speaker attentively, for the first time. And his look plainly expressed what he was too polite to utter in as many words: "Why, you are but a child yourself to have the charge of children! And a very beautiful child you are also'! Too beautiful to be left unguarded in a railway station at night." \ So spoke his eyes, fixed upon her lovely face in intense admiration. But his lips said very gravely: "Then you must permit me also to remain and share your charge, my dear Madam. This is scarcely a proper place or hour for ladies to remain unguarded." THE GOVERN-OR AND THE CIRCE. 253 "Oh, thanks. But indeed I would not trouble you so much for the world," answered the youthful widow. "Nay, but would you deprive me of a great pleasure? I will put my daughter and her young friends into the car- riage and send them home. And I will remain here with you and your charges, until you are relieved from them." "But, my dear sir--" expostulated the pretty widow. "Oh, dear Mrs. Grey, pray let papa do as he -pleases without opposition. Our old coachman can take me and my friends home with perfect safety," smiled 'Rmma Cavendish. "I yield to your better judgment, sir," said Mrs. Grey very sweetly, as she bowed gracefully to the Governor. The old-fashioned gentleman bowed with suave stateli- ness in return, and then offered his arm and led her, fol- lowed by the whole party, to the waiting-room. Then he left Mrs. Grey and her young charges, while he took Emma and her companions to the carriage. "Take these young ladies home very carefully, and then return here for me," he said to the coachman, after having seen the girls seated. The coachman touched his hat and drove off. Mr. Cavendish returned to the waiting-room where he had left Mrs. Grey and her pupils. Here he found an arrival-an old lady who was the aunt of one girl, and a young gentleman who was the brother of another. Mrs. Grey was just transferring her charges to their rightful guardians, when there came in a handsome middle- aged gentleman in search of his two daughters. And thus, in a very few minutes, Mrs,. Grey was re- lieved ofher last pupils. When they had kissed her -and left her, she sank down on the cushioned bench with a sigh of fatigue and relief. page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. kMr. Cavendish sat down by her, full of genuine com. passion and sympathy. "You are really a very youthful and very delicate wo- man to have so heavy a responsibility as the charge of these young girls put upon you," he said, in a tone full of respectful tenderness. "The burdens of life fell upon me at a very early age," sighed the beautiful creature. "But then I try to bear them bravely," she smiled. And Charles Cavendish did not know whether her sigh or her smile were the most bewitching. "I feel very sure you do bear your burdens bravely and cheerfully," he said, looking kindly on-her sweet face. She half arose from her seat. "Shall we go now?" she inquired. "Not yet," he answered gently. "There are no hacks left on the stand, and we must wait for the. carriage that I have ordered to return for us." "Oh, thanks. How kind you are to me!" she said sweetly, as she sank back on her seat. "Not at all! I have to thank you, dear lady, for all your kindness to my child while she- was at school. And especially for this last kindness in coming home with her," he answered, keeping his eyes, still full of admiration and compassion, fixed upon her face. "Ah I but it is so delightful to come I The benefit is all on my side. /had no home to go to, you know. I am alone in the world!" she murmured, in a tone so pathetic and appealing that the tears came into the Governor's eyes. ' That is very, very sad at your tender age. But my daughter loves you very much. You can never be quite -alone in the world while you have her affection; nor home- less while she has a home," he said; and he would have THE GOVERNOR AND THE CIIRCE. 255 spoken for himself as well as for his daughter, bad not deli- cacy forbidden him to do so'then. "Ah, yes!" sighed Mrs. Grey. "She is a sweet, dear girl, and would do anything- for her poor friend. And I am indeed very deeply grateful to her, and to you. And I ought to be very happy in such friends. And indeed I will try to be," she added. And with a smile like a sunburst, and a look full of childlike grace and frankness, 6she sud- denly turned and placed her little hand in his. And he caught and pressed it to his lips, before he well knew what he was about. , ' And we will try to make you forget all your sorrows, sweet lady," he said respectfully, as he recollected himself and released her hand. It was very well that just at that moment a porter came in with a message from the coachman, to the effect that Governor Cavendish's carriage was waiting. Mr. Cavendish got up with courtly grace and offered her his arm, and took her to the carriage, where they were soon seated side by side, engaged in a t6te-e-tte that was equally agreeable to the designing young beauty and the fascinated statesman. The coachman droye slowly, for the distance between the railway station and the Executive mansion compre- hended"the whole length of the city; and the horses in first coming, then going, and again returning to the station, had already passed over this ground three times, and were tired. Thus the drive was long and the t6te-&-t6te protracted. And before the carriage turned into the handsome grounds surrounding the Governor's residence, the beauti- ful young widow felt that she had made a deep'impression upon the heart of his Excellency. When the carriage stopped before the door, Mr. Caven- page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 A BEAUTIFUL -FIEND. dish got out and with great courtesy assisted his guest to alight, and took her into the house. Emma, who had already changed her travelling suit for an evening dress, received her friend in the hall, and at ,noce conducted her to a spacious and handsomely furnished chamber, warmed by a register and lighted by gas. "Now, my darling," said Mrs. Grey, throwing herself into a gold-colored brocade lounging chailS do not let me detain you from your other guests; for I noticed as I passed up that the drawing-room was nearly full." "Oh no, dear Mrs. Grey," laughed Emma; "not half, nor quarter full. It wasi only papa's usual evening circle. Here is your trunk. It came before you did, you see." "Yes, darling, yes. Thanks. Now go down. I shall be able to find my way to the drawing-room alone," "When you come down, papa will meet you at the foot of the stairs and take you in," said Fmma, as, smiling and' bowing, she left the room. As soon as she found herself alone, Mary Grey opened her trunk, and began to make her evening toilet. She se- lected a rich black corded silk dress, trimmed with black' crape and black bugles, and collar and cuffs and widow's; cap of the sheerest white tulle. And very beautiful she. looked as she surveyed herself in the glass. "I've hooked the old fish," she said to herself; for when she was quite alone, she always fell into the slang in which she was born and brought up. "Yes, I've caught the old cod, as I knew I should in the first five minutes of our ac- quaintance. And I mustn't let him go. I must land him. And'so I must not go it too strong with him about the dear departed. It was all well enough to tell the stuffy old professors who each wanted to marry me right out of hand, that my heart was 'buried in the grave of my sainted' et cetera; but now here is the Governor of the State whom I THE GOVERNOR AND THE CIRCE. 257 want to marry, which is quite a horse of another qolor. So I mustn't go' it too strong upon 'the dear departed. Your young widow's old lovers don't approve of such fine sentiments. I must tell him another tale-how I was left a penniless orphan at an early age; how I was crueliy treated by an uncle and aunt, who grudged the expense of my board and education; how I was forced to marry a man whom I never really loved and who died a few weeks afterward, leaving me a penniless widow, and so forth, and. so forth. I must show him my testimonials as a mere mat- ter of business too, asking him if, after a sufficient acquaint- ance with me, he could venture to add his own distin- guished recommendation, which I should value more than all my other papers taken together. Then seeing my testi- monials, he would be convinced that all my other. merits are as superior as my beauty. Ahal it was a happy day when I won your affections, Miss Cavendish." And so saying, the young adventuress put the finishing touches to her toilet, and went down stairs. Some one must have been on the watch for her ap- proach; for when she was near the foot of the stairs,Gov- ernor Cavendish came out and met her, and with much- kindness and courtesy conducted her into the drawing- room, and seated her on the sofa beside his daughter. There were about thirty ladies and gentlemen present. Some were seated on sofas conversing, some were standing around tables examining illustrated volumes, and :some were promenading through the rooms. Mrs. Grey was much interested in observing the living panorama that passed before her eyes. "This is very informal," said Emma, " but after Christ- mas my father will hold his first reception, and then regu- lar weekly receptions, when you will meet the most inter- esting people in the city, and which I think you will like." - page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "I like this. I think this interesting," answered Mrs. Grey sweetly. At that moment Governor Cavendish approached, bringing with him a tall, distinguished looking gentleman, whom he presented to his guest as the Right Rev. Bishop Wentworth. Horror! he was a man whom Mrs. Grey had frequently quoted as one of her most valuable references, and she had never seen his face before! She was half relieved to re- member that she had never quoted him to Governor Cav- endish. And she could only hope that they would never discover her forgeries and falsehoods. All these thoughts passed quickly through her mind as she arose and gracefully received the dignitary of the church. Governor Cavendish treated his beautiful guest with great distinction, bringing to her acquaintance the most agreeable people in the rooms. At the early hour of eleven, as this was a very informal reception, the guests retired. The Governor and his small circle remained a few min- utes longer in the drawing-room, during which time he said, addressing equally his daughter and her young com- panion: "It was rather unfortunate, my dears, that so many people should have dropped in the very first evening of your arrival. I fear that your fatigue is very much in- creased by helping tO[ entertain them." But the young people disclaimed all sense of weariness, and declared that a very exhilarating winter day's journey had been succeeded by a very delightful winter evening's company. And so saying, they wished their kind host good-night, and attended by their young hostess, retired to their rooms. CH APTER XTjT, UINDER THE SYREN'S SPELL. "In beauty baleful still--a Serpent Queen." 1HE next few days were clear, cold, and brilliant, with splendid sunshine and sparkling-snow. The sleighing was perfect, and Governor Cavendish had in his carriage house two handsome sleighs, one a capacious vehicle capa. ble of carrying a party of half a dozen persons, and the other a snug little tAte-A-tAte jumper that would accommo- date but two, the driver and his companion. These sleighs were both well provided with rugs and afghans. Every morning the youthful party at the Government House went sleighing-first through the city, where they would stop at some art-gallery, museum, library or lyceum, and spend an hour or two in sight-seeing, and then reenter their sleigh and resume their joyous flight over the snow, far into the country. It often happened that Mrs. Grey shivered and com- plained of cold, and deplored her own sensitiveness to the frost, and declined to accompany the youthful party on their sleighing frolics. And always on these occasions Governor Cavehdish also remained indoors, cheerfully de- claring that his' daughter and her young companions would be quite safe under the care of old Jerome, his veteran coachman. The young people would always return in time for the late dinner, when there was almost always one or more guests to be entertained. (259) page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Although the Governor's daughter was still only a school-girl of sixteen, spending her holidays at her father's house, many ladies and gentlemen called on her and her companions, and left cards for them, and invited them to dinner and evening parties. And to these entertainments Mrs. Grey always accom- panied them as their chaperone. They were all very beautiful young creatures, though so different in their styles of beauty. But EFmma Caven- dish was certainly the most beautiful of the quartette. At sixteen years of age her form was perfectly developed, tall, well-rounded and well-proportioned. She had a Grecian cast of features, a fair, clear, pearly complexion, with a brilliant bloom on cheeks and lips, large, soft, bright violet eyes, and splendid golden hair. In dress she preferred the pure white, or the most delicate shades of blue, pink, green, or mauve. Next her in point of beauty was her opposite, Mrs. Grey, with her perfect figure of medium height and size, and her exquisite face, with its small features, its pure, pale complexion, and deeply fringed jet-black eyes, and closely rippled jet-black hair. In dress she affected rich black lustres, and fine black lace, with soft white tulle cuffs and collars, and bewitching little widows' caps. The third in beauty was Electra. She-was slight and rather thin in figure, yet with a peculiar elegance of car- riage. Her complexion was dark, very dark, but with a deep, vivid crimson flush upon her cheeks and lips; her hair was bluish black; her eyes were intensely dusk, but so full of fire that it was next to impossible to tell their color; her teeth were very white and beautiful; and when she smiled or spoke, the simultaneous flash and gleam of eyes and teeth had something startling in the effect. Electra wore the very richest dresses-dresses much too rich for a UNDER oT x X ab . .... trl of her age-and she loved the highest and most bril- liant colors, and the costhest materials, such as ruby vel- vets, maize moire-antiques, and purple satins. And these became her unique style of beauty rarely. Last comes Laura Lytton, who-had less pretensions to beauty than the other three. In form she was rather short and stout, with a very handsome bust and shoulders, and a firmly set head covered with a profusion of dark brown hair, which she wore in heavy braids. Her eyes were large, soft dark brown; her features were regular, and her complexion clear, with a good healthy bloom. Laura being in second mourning for her father, wore either gray, or black and white. - This party of four were always very much admired, at every entertainment where they appeared. And every- where the attentions of the Governor to the beautiful widow were observed and commented upon. Besides their pleasant evenings out, they had pleasant evenings at home, delightful evenings when there happened to be no other company present to disturb the perfect har- mony of the home circle. Mrs. Grey exerted all her talent to entertain and amuse her host. She read with a power and pathos that proved her capable of success in the highest walks of dramatic art. And this was the gift of nature, rather than of education. She was not an accomplished musician, but she played and sungl the old-fashioned songs of Charles Cavendish's childhood, which he declared he loved more than the finest operatic music he had ever heard. And whether she read from the poets, or whether she played and sang, he listened to her, spell-bound and de- lighted. At length even the frank 'and guileless young lady of page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] the house began to suspect what -the lawyer's practical daughter had long,known-that her father was in love with the beautiful widow. One morning, before they went down to breakfast, the three young girls were lingering in Laura's room, and talking confidentially of Mrs. Grey and the Governor. "You know I always felt a great deal of sympathy for hersorrows, Laura, and I always did what I could to alle- viate them. And I admired her too, in a measure. But indeed I do feel surprised to see how much my father thinks of her! Truly she is beautiful and fascinating; but then there are other beautiful and fascinating women whom my father has met season after season in this city, and who have made no sort of impression upon his heart. Why should this one have done what the others did not?" "Perhaps because the others didn't want to, and this one did," flashed Electra. "Ah, but I know better, darling. There was more than one young widow, and more than one young lady, who aspired to rule the Government House," smiled Emmna. "Yes; but you see they were not domiciled in the house with your father. He did not see either of them every day at the breakfast-table, and every evening at his fireside. Besides, they were not ' alone in the world,' as this pretty young widow pathetically declares herself to be. This, all this makes a great difference in the widow's favor, my dear Emma. A wiser woman than either you or I will ever be, has written that 'propinquity makes more matches than any other means.' And a wiser man than even your honored father, has written that 'pity is aJin to love.' This widow is not only beautiful and fascinating, but she is with her admirer in his home, at his breakfast-table, at his evening fireside. She appeals to his compassion; studies his character, flatters his tastes; entertains, amuses; and, above all, iterests him. ' Beauty in distress I' Bah! It need not take a lawyer or a lawyer's daughter to see the result. You know I warned you, Emma, not to invite the pretty widow to your house unless you were longing for a stepmother." '. I know you did," said Miss Cavendish, with a sigh. "And I wish I had followed your advice. But itis too late now. And besides, I feel that there is a certain impro- priety in our discussing this subject . et us say no more bout it, dear girls. My honored father is wise enough to judge for himself." "No old man in love with a young woman is wise! flashed Electra, so vividly that Emma started. "Hush! said Laura, nudging the speaker "Come, dears,let us go down to breakfast," said Emma, leading the way. In the hall they were joined by the subject of their late discussion, looking lovely in her simple morning toilet. d then they' all went down together to the breakfast- room, where the master of the house was awaiting them. "What is the programme for to-day, my dears," he inquired, after he had cordially greeted each one, and they were all seated around the table. "The snow is melting too fast for the sleigh; so we thought we would stay in-doors and keep you company until twelve o'clock, and then order the carriage and return some of the calls that have been made us," answered Emma. "Quite right, my love," said her father. "Will you go with us, Mrs. Grey?" inquired Emma. "No, dear; you must pardon me. I am so susceptible of atmospheric changes. I dare not go out in damp weather." Emnma was silent, but her father said quite seriously: "Your charming friend is a very delicate exotic, my dear Emma, and not a hardy damask-rose like you." page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] X{4J A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Will you go with us, Governor?" quickly inquired Electra. "No, dear; I rather think not. An old gentleman like myself would scarcely add to the liveliness of your youth- ful party. And it is not necessary. Emma can take my card case with her," said Mr. Cavendish. Electra and Laura Lytton exchanged glances. Fmma looked very gravely down into her plate. "I hope you are not disappointed, Em?" said the Governor. "No, dear father. I wish you to consult your own comfort first of all," gravely answered the girl. And her father in some manner perceived more mean- ing in her reply than the words seemed to express, for he sighed, and said: "I always consider your happiness, my dear child." And then, similarly, Emma perceived more in her father's remark than his words seemed to convey. CHiAPTER XTjTI. A GREAT SURPRISE FOR LAURA LYTTOM. ABTIER R breakfast the youthful party separated for a short hour, each going about her own business. Laura Lytton went to her room to make up a package of Christmas presents to send to her little country cousins, Octavia and Ulrica. She meant to send them by express to Wendover, to the care of Craven Kyte, whom she felt sure would willingly take the trouble to convey them to Lytton Lodge. Laura had scarcely completed her task when Emma A GREAT SURPRISE. 265 Cavendish opened the door and came into the room, bring- ing a letter, which she gayly tossed into Laura's lap as she, smiling, explained': "Just brought by a messenger-a private messenger-- from the Planters Hotel, my dear. Is it a love-letter?" she archly inquired. In some surprise Laura opened the envelope. "Is it a love letter?" repeated Emma. "Oh, yes, it is a love-letter--a love-letter from a true lover-my dear only brother!" exclaimed Laura gladly, as she unfolded the paper. But the instant after her face became very grave. The letter was as follows: "PLANTERtS HOTEL, Wedriestday. -"MY BELOVED SISTER: I have just arrived here from Lytton Lodge, whither I went immediately from Char- lottesville, and where I expected to meet you and to spend the Christmas holidays in your company. Imagine my disappointment when I was told that you was not there, and not even expected to come. Imagine, if you can, my astonishment and mortification when I learned where you were spending your Christmas-under the very roof of the man who outraged all justice and defied all public opinion by pardoning the murderer of our honored father. Oh, Laura! oh, my sister I! if you have any veneration for the memory of our murdered father, any affection for your only brother, I implore you, by that reverence and that affec- tion, to leave the Government House this day, and come to me at this hotel, and let me take you home to Lytton Lodge. It is for this purpose that I have come to the city. I would go to the house also to fetch you out, only I cannot endure to approach the home of him who pardoned our father's murderer. But I will send a carriage for you this afternoon, giving you only time to pack your effects; and then I will await you here. "Your affectionate, but deeply wounded brother, c' ALDEN' LTTON." page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 26J - A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Laura was in despair. This passionate letter had come like a blight to all her comfort, and all her plans of pleasure. She had never shared her brother's bitter resentment against Governor Cavendish. And lately she had learned to love his daughter, and to venerate him. She found in them the most congenial companions. She earnestly wished to remain with them. Yet she could not bear the thought of shocking and wounding her brother. What should she do? She would temporize. It is not only the weak that wish to temporize, the wise often do. She re- solved' that she would not leave her dear Emma so suddenly, any way. And at the thought of her dearest friend she looked around for her, but Miss Cavendish had left the room on some errand of kindness. Laura opened her writing-desk and began a note to her brother, in answer to his angry letter. She wrote as follows: ' "GOVERNMENT HOUSE, Wednesday Morning. "MY DEAREST BROTHER: I am delighted to know that you are in town; or rather I should be entirely so if I were not too - deeply pained by your letter. I am here as the guest of Miss Cavendish, the dearest girl friend that I have in this world. She loves me entirely, and is exceedingly kind to me. I cannot distress her by the abrupt departure you require me to make. Besides, dear Alden, my intuitions assure me that you are utterly mis- taken in your judgment of Governor Cavendish. He is a good, honorable and conscientious man; and whatever he has done has been done from the purest and highest mo- tives. When you send the carriage for me I will go to you; but only for a visit. Then, in a few days, when I can find some fair excuse, that will not pain Emma, for shortening my visit, I will return with you to Lytton Lodge. Your loving sister, LAURA." Miss Lytton folded and sealed her letter, and then rang the bell. - A GREAT SURPRISE. 267 A page answered the call. She gave the boy the let- ter, with orders to take it immediately to the Planter's Hotel. And when the lad was gone, poor Laura sat down and cried with vexation. But in the mean time she had a good friend at work for her. Emma Cavendish, on leaving Laura Lytton, had gone immediately to her father's study, where she found him not very particularly engaged over the morning papers. "Papa," she said, " what do you think? Laura Lytton's brother has just come to the city. He has been at the University, you know; but now he is here for the holi- days, and to be near his sister, I suppose." "Yes, dear, most likely." "Papa, love, will you do something for me?" "Anything, my glrl." "You promise?" "Certainly, my love." "What! blindly? Without knowing what I am going to ask you to do for me?" "Yes. I have as much faith in my dear daughter as all that." "Oh, you dearest dear papal I do hope the Lord may remove me from this world if ever, in His omnis- cience, He may see that I am to disappoint or pain you!" said Emma fervently. "You will never be likely to do that, my darling girl. But what is it that you want me to do for you?" "I want you to go to the Planter's Hotel and call on Laura's brother, and invite him to come here and make this house his home during his stay in the city. I know Laura would be so delighted to have him. Will you do this for me, papa, dear?" page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Certainly, my child. It is a very natural and proper thing to do; and one which I certainly should have done even without your kind and thoughtful suggestion." "Thank you, dear papa, said Emma, kissing him. "Is that all you wish me to do- for you?' "Yes, papa." "A very small favor." "A great one, papa. It will make Laura so happy to have her brother here." "And it will make ERnmma so happy to see Laura so," said the father, caressing the fair head of his daughter. "So happy I CHAPTER XTLITT, GOVERNOR CAVENDISH AND ALDEI LYTTON. Away I address thy prayers to Heaven. Learn if thou there canst be forgiven; Its mercy may absolve thee yet I But here, upon this earth Beneath There's not a spot where thou and I Together for an hour could breathe. BYRON. GO\-VERNOR CAVENDISH, in compliance with the wishes of his beloved daughter, ordered his carriage and drove to the Planter's Hotel, He inquired for Mr. Alden Lytton, and being answered that the young gentleman was at the. house and in his room, sent up his card. In a very few moments the messenger returned, bring- ing back tihe visitor's card'and a most discourteous mes- sage, to the effect that: GI GOVERNOR CAVENDISH. .269 "Mr. Alden Lytton declines to receive Governor Cav- endish." "Oh, he does!" murmured the Governor, with an, indulgent smile. "I can well understand the reason." Then he. took the rejected card fi'om the messenger, drew a pencil from his pocket and wrote this line,- "I think that you will see me, and be pieed after having done so." And he gave back the card to the messenger, saying : "Take this to Mr. Lytton. I shall follow you." Up several flights of stairs, and along several long pas- sages, the usher led The way, the Governor following, until he opened a door at the end of the last passage. Governor Cavendish followed him into the room. Alden was seated at a small table, writing. He looked up, and seeing his visitor, started with surprise, flushed to his temples, and exclaimed "I thought I ordered the waiter to--" "Decline my visit, in your name. Yes, young ,sir, you did. And the man faithfully obeyed your orders, yet I am here," said Mr. Cavendish,; composedly advancing to the table. Alden Lytton turned white with anger, and his fine dark eyes flashed. He could not speak. "You may retire," said the Governor, with a dignified gesture, to the usher, who immediately withdrew and shut the door behind him. "Since you are here, as you say, will you do me the honor to be seated, sir?" said Alden Lytton, with freezing hauteur, as he placed a chair for his unwelcome visitor. "Thanks, yes; for I have walked up four pairs of stairs and through three long halls," answered the Governor, with a smile, as he took the offered seat. page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "1: wait to be told, sir, what has procured me the unde- sired honor of this visit," said Alden coldly. "My dear young friend, leave formality and sarcasm, if you can. I came here to make acquaintance with the son of my old college mate and friend, Henry Lytton. You know, I suppose, that your late father and myself were friends?" inquired Governor Cavendish smilingly. "Yes, sir. And I think it so much the more inexplic- able-to use no stronger term-that you should have pardoned his murderer." ' "My good young friend, I never pardoned his mur- derer." "SIR!" "I never pardoned your father's murderer, and never would have done so," solemnly repeated the Governor. "Oh, Governor Cavendish! Really, really your fine intellect must be somewhat obscured, or you must imagine mine to be so I can refer you to the printed copy of the pardon, and even to the original parchment, which is no doubt preserved in the archives of the State House or the prison," replied Alden, with bitter and scornful incredulity. "You can show me my official signature to the pardon of poor Victor Hartman, but not of your father's assassin. Poor Hartman never committed the crime for which he was condemned to die," said the Governor solemnly. Alden Lytton laughed sardonically, as he replied: "The; old plea, the old excuse, the old story! The anonymous letters declaring his innocence, which even the' criminal himself laughed to scorn! Why, the man con- fessed the crime!" "He confessed it, because he thought he committed it! Such false self-crimination has occurred before. Many such cases are on record," said Governor Cavendish. Alden Lytton made a gesture of utter incredulity and GOVERNOR CAVENDISH. 271 contempt. But the Governor had patience with him, and continued calmly: "Of course you read the trial?" "Every word of it is indelibly impressed upon my memory. "Then you may remember that in his short address to the court, before the passing of his sentence, the poor con- demned man, while confessing that he did kill his benefac- tor, pleaded that he did not intend to do it." "I remember." '"Well, he not only did not intend to do it, but he did not do it. He was as guiltless in deed as in intention." "Ugh!" exclaimed Alden, in incredulous disgust. "( Mr. Lytton, I do not wonder at your scornful incre- dulity. I will not ask you to believe in Hartman's inno cence until you shall have heard my story through. I will not bind you to secrecy. But I think that when you have heard what I shall confide to you, your own sense of honor will bind you to keep the communication, or a part of it, to yourself. Will you listen to me?" "I am constrained to do so," answered Alden coldly. "Then I will tell you what really did happen that fatal night. When the wretched man, fainting from famine and crazed with alcohol, attempted to strike his benefactor, he utterly missed his mark, and fell forward on his face, and speedily became insensible; Meanwhile Mr. Lytton, after administering a kick to the prostrate and unconscious form of his assailant, walked on his way, followed by one who had really determined upon his death-one who had, or thought he had, a deeper wrong to avenge than any real or fancied injury suffered by poor Hartman." Here Alden Lytton- started, and bent eagerly and breathlessly forward. "Mr. Lytton walked on nearly a quarter of a mile from ; page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] 272 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. the dtpot where he had left Hartman. And his steps were tracked by the assassin until they came to a lonely and murky part of the road, when, with one fatal blow from behind, falling upon the back of his head, Henry Lytton was struck down dead. You know that the testimony of the physicians at the inquest proved that his death had ensued instantly from the single blow." "Yes, yes. O Heaven I " groaned the young man, cov- ering his face with his hands. "It grieves me so to reopen all your wounds, my dear Alden; but justice to the innocent obliges me to do it." "Pray go on, sir I This is a most unexpected revelation." The murderer dropped his club, and went on his way unsuspected." "Who was he? What was his name?" fiercely de- manded Alden. "Patience, for one moment I! The name was not that of Victor Hartman; although within three hours after the tragedy, when the dead body was discovered, Victor Hart- man was arrested on the charge of the murder, and lodged in jail." "Who was the real murderer? What was his name? Has he met with punishment?"' energetically demanded the son of Henry Lytton. '." To answer your last question first-if to suffer, day and night, the keenest pangs of remorse be punishment, he is most severely punished." "And is that all? Is he-has he-O Heaven! he has not expiated his .crime upon the gallows, and my father's blood still cries from the ground for vengeance! while his murderer still lives-still, perhaps, goes at large unsus- pected I His name, Governor Cavendish-his name?" "I cannot give you his name. Believe me, I would do so if I could." G GOVER NOR AVE-N:DIS H. 27 3 " FWhy can you not?" "Listen patiently, and I will tell ybu."' "Well, well?" "While the boy, Victor Hartman, lay under sentence of death for the murder of Mr. Henry Lytton, and was be- lieved by' every one, eve- by himself tlf6be guilty, the real' murderer walked at large, unsuspected by man, but awful-' ly tortured by' remorse.' He'-felt: that the execution of- Victor Haiitman would bring upon' his sheavily laden soul? the burden" of another murder;. And.: yet the man was':aA coward,' and dared not: comed for4ard ,afid confess themuiir- der, and save the innocent." Here'Alden Lyttobi raised his clenched fist anltdgrouind his teethbut itdid not in any other imanner interrupt the' speaker, who proceeded td say:; "Goaded by remorse and fettered by fear, the man; toolk the middle, course of writing anonymous' letters to' the Executive, declaring the innobence of Victor Hartman." I paid no sort'of- attention to these repeated letters, which; annoyed without impressing me", So' tite went on untilI the day of the execution was near at hand. Then I signed the death warrant, and left the city for my country home." "'It was said,' to avoid'seeing and hearing too much of the impending execution," put in Alden. "It' was truly so said. - I reached Blue Cliffs on the night of Thursday before the'execution, which was'to take place on Friday noon. On the very'nigt of my arrival at home I;was surprised by 'the '-rrival 'of a visitor, who sent in a card without a name, and bearing on its face only these 'words: "'The writer of the anonmnous letters.' "I went to my study and sent for the visitor. Name- lessly he was shown in by the servant, who immediately closed the door and: retired. I arose to receive him, and 17 page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] 274 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND, saw before me, as I supposed, a perfect stranger! but he lifted his hat and turned to the light, and I recognized him." "You knew him!" burst forth Alden. "Unfortunately I knew him, and knew but little good of him. But he was then so pale, haggard and suffering, that I pitied him. I made him sit down, and gave him a glass of. wine. He seemed terribly agitated and hurried. He repeated that he was the writer of those anonymous letters, and that 'Victor Hartman was guiltless of the mur- der of Henry Lytton, and that he himself could prove it to me.' "I told him that he must prove it to me most posi- tively, before I could interfere to arrest the course of the law. Whereupon he groaned and wrung his hands in agony. At length he said he wished to make a commu- nication under the seal of secrecy, a communication that would clear Victor Hartman from suspicion. I gave him the promise of secrecy to some extent. And then, Alden, he told me a tale of real or fancied injury, most hideous to hear. And then confessed himself the assassin, of Henry Lytton, with so much particularity as to time, place and circumstance, that he enforced perfect conviction of his truth on my mind." "And you failed to arrest him on the spot I " exclaimed Alden indignantly. "My first impulse was to do so. But I remembered the promise by which I was bound, and to which the man held me. There was absolutely nothing that I could do with the guilty man but leave him to the retributions of Divine Providence. But I could save the guiltless one So I allowed my strange visitor to depart.- And I myself set out that same night .to Wendover, and telegraphed from the station to the Sheriff in the city to suspend the GOVERNOR CAVENDISH. 275 execution until further orders. And thee I took the mid- night train to the city, which I reached in the afternoon of the next day. You know the rest. I saved the innocent convict, and lost my own popularity by that one act of pardon. Now, my dear young friend, you perceive that I never pardoned your father's assassin. And now you see also, how the seal of secrecy closes my lips, so that I can- not divulge the name of the real criminal. I too have suf- fered from this secrecy. I have lost my reelectioh. At the end of my term I must go out of office for what public opinion has denounced as a gross'abuse of the pardoning power." "Victor's case seems the hardest one of all. And you cannot tell me the name of the real criminal?" "You must see that I cannot." "I see; but at least you may tell me the provocation that this miscreant imagined he had received." "My young friend, I would rather not speak oit, It would but give you deep pain," said the Governor/gravely. "Yet let me hear it. Tell me plainly the nature of the provocation this man received, or imagined that he had received, at my father's hands," insisted Alden. "A ruined daughter," solemnly answered the Governor. Alden started, and clutched the edge of the table at which they sat together. Every vestige of color fled from his face; he gasped for breath. "Alden! my good young friend l" bear up. Do not let this affect you so much. 'The man was probably a mo- nomaniac, crazed perhaps by the loss of his child, and as ready to charge that loss upon one man as upon another," said Governor Cavendish kindly. "I know whom you mean now, Governor Cavendish " he said, in a choking voice. "I know whom you mean, as well as if you had named the murderer!" 1 "\ ' page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] ,2t. - A BE AUTIFU:L Fl END. "You know:!" exclaimed. the Governor, in great sur- prise, "As well as if I had received his confession!" groaned the young man. "For Heaven's sake! How do you know?." "From. the nature of the supposed provocation Insay of the swpposed. provocation, for I will. never believe that my honored father could; have given a, real one--of that. sort! From the nature of the supposed. provocation then, taken in connection with other, circumstances that have come to my: knowledge, and that were inexplicable at- the time, but are perfectly clear now." "Then I. have utterly betrayed- confidence without in- tending to do so," said Mr. Cavendish gravely. "Not so. It is I who have made the discovery by piecing.? events togethern But do not disturb yourself; sir. The secret of'this mands name shall be- as safe with me as if. you: had: entrusted it. to me in confidence, under the sacred: seal of secrecy. And besides, if I have been rightly informed,.the; wretched: man and. his family are far enough beyond the reach of the law." "I, believe they. are. But, thank Heavenj If know noth- ing whaterver of their whereabouts," said the Governor. "Mr. Cavendish," then began Alden,. very gravely, "I haYe to express to you the real sorrow I feel for having so long misunderstood and misjudged you, and to ask your pardon for my stupidity and presumption." "There is, nothing for me.' to pardon, my dear- Alden. I cameo here to be reconciled to you. I am glad to have effected my. purpose. Give me your hand, Alden," said the Governor, holding out his own. Alden Lytton cordially pressed the offered hand, as he said: "But, Governor Cavendish, you have been equally mis- Of GOVERNOR CAVENDISH. 2" understood and misjudged by public opinion. Pray for- give me for suggesting that if you had given the same modified explanation publicly, that you have deigned to give me privately, you would have received more justice, and consequently more honor." "You think so? Ah, my young friend! sitting here with you face to face, eye to eye, I may tell you a true story, which, however strange, you, looking into my face, meet. ing my eyes, will believe. But to print and publish such a story would be -to expose myself to -worse misunder- standing and worse misjudgment even than I have yet suffered-to unbelief, to contempt, and to the charge of falsehood and of treason; The lightest thing they would have said of me must have been, that I failed in tmy duty in not causing the immediate arrest of the .confessed assassin; not remembering that a man's promise should-be held sacred, eyen when surprised from him by a criminal. No, my young friend. By my own act I pla;ced -myself in a false position, and have to bear the consequences. But now, my dear Alden, let us forget all that we cannot rem. edy. Let us turn' to pleasanter topics. I said that I had come here to be reconciled to you. But that was only a necessary preliminary to my second object. - I come here Ialso to ask you to return with me, and make my house your home during your stay in the city. Your sister, you know, i6 my guest, and my -daughter's dearest fiend. Come, what do you say? Will you prove that you :are truly reconciled to me, and will you make us all happy by joining our Christmas iparty?" "With the greatest pleasure, and with many thanks, Mr. Cavendish,' frankly replied the young man. page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] CHAPTER XTIV. ALDElS. Handsome as Hercules ere his first labor, And with a brow of thought beyond his years, When in repose, till his eyes kindle up In answering yours. BYRON. \M REANWHTLE Laura Lytton shut herself up in her room, and fretted over her disappointment and distress. Her brother's letter had come suddenly upon her in the midst of her enjoyment, blighting her pleasures as a spring frost kills early blossoms. He demanded that she should leave the roof of Gover- nor Cavendish, part from' her dear friend Emma, forego all the anticipated delights of the Christmas holidays at the Government House, and go down in the depth of winter to a dull farm among the mountains, to spend weeks of weary monotony. Nor was that the worst. That was a great disappoint- ment; but-she would have to tell En ma. How could she account to Emma for the rudeness of her departure without telling her the exact truth about Alden's hatred of Governor Cavendish? And how could she ever bring herself to tell that? That was distress. While she was thus fretting her soul, the little ormulu clock on the mantel shelf struck two, and warned her that (278) ALDEN. 279 she would very soon be summoned to luncheon. And her eyes, still red with weeping, she feared would betray her feelings. So she got up band bathed'them, and continued to bathe them until she heard a rap at her chamber door. Then she hastily wiped them, and went and opened the door Emma was standing there, looking very lovely in her pretty home dress of pale blue challie, with embroidered cambric chemisette and under-sleeves, and with her golden hair looking still brighter in its golden net. - Her face was all smiles as she accosted her friend with "Come, darling! We are waiting luncheon for you. Didn't you hear the bell? And papa has brought a visitor home with him: a gentleman he met this morning at the Planter's Hotel. A rival for himself, I am afraid, and a new victim for the pretty widow, who has already ' eyed' the unhappy youth!" While Emma rattled on in the gayety of her heart, Laura found time to recover her composure. She then joined her friend, and they went down stairs together. Luncheon was usually served in the cozy crimson parlor in the left wing of the mansion. A hall servant in attend- ance opened the door, and the two girls passed in. The first things that Laura noticed were, of course, the elegant little luncheon-table and the glowing sea-coal fire. And the next the beautiful face of the young widow, who was seated in the embrasure of the bay-window, talking to a gentleman, who was bending over her in an attitude of the deepest devotion. As the young girls crossed the room toward the fire, this gentleman raised his head and turned around, reveal- ing to the astonished eyes of Laura the face of her dear brother Alden. page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] - D J!. A U 1J. s i u ve 1 Si tD. At the same instant a soft peal of silvery-laughter broke from the beautiful lips of Emma Cavendish, as she said: "I thought I should surprise you with this unexpected Christmas gift from dear papa!" "Yes, my dear Laura," added the Governor, rising from his easy-chair by the fire, "I have brought your brother as the most acceptable Christmas gift could think of offering oqu. He has consented to make us all happy by spending Pthe holidays with, us." While the Governor yet spoke, Alden drew his sister to his heart and greeted her with a brotherly kiss. Laura looked from one to the other, too much aston- ished and delighted to be able to answer one word. "Come, let us take seats," said Emma smilingly, ad. yancing to her place at the head of the table. "Dear Alden, I am glad tofsee you!--You must explain all this to me by and by.--And, oh, Er. Cavendish, I do thank you so much! You have made me so happy!" said Laura, as soon as she found her voice. And then the general party gathered around the lunch- eon-table to partake of the delicacies with which it was bountifully supplied. . After luncheon was over, kind and thoughtful Emma ,Cavendish, knowing that the brother and sister would like a t6te-&-t6te after .so many months' separation, so managed matters that they were left alone together in the back drawing-room. Then Laura, who could scarcely conceal her curiosity and impatience, plumply inquired of her brother: "What had wrought such a wonderful change in his sentiments toward Governor Cavendish, as not only to alter his views about Aer visit to the Government House, but also to induce himself to become her fellow-visitor." ALDEN. 28-1 Alden. did not wish to tamper with the-trnst the Gov- ernor had placed in him by confiding to Laura any part of the strange story told him by Mr. Cavendish, so he merely replied: "My dear sister, the Governor condescended to give me an explanation which comprised such good and sufficient reasons for the course he -took, as not only fully exonerated him from -all blame, but raised him so high in my esteem as almost to bring me to his feet for forgiveness of-my rash and presumptuous misjudgment :of him. That is all X can tell you, my dear Laura." "And all I wish :to hear. And so you had to:have a lengthened explanation before you could believe what I knew from ;simple intuition-that Governor Cavendish is a wise and good man, and all that -he does must be right," said Laura mischievously. "Too true, alas! But then, you see, it is certain that you girls know truths by instinct that we young men -have to learn from experience. Laura Il" "Well Alden?" "What an angel Miss Cavendish is! "Oh, you have found that out by instinct certainly, for you haven't known 'Emma long enough to learn it from experience," said Laura slyly. "Surely :one would need to see her but once to perceive her angelic nature!" said Alden enthusiastically. "You are quite right. Fmma is an angel, if ever one lived on earth in woman's form. But-what do you think of Electra?" "A galvanic battery of a girl I She gives me a distinct shock every time she flashes her black eyes and white teeth at me." "That is the effect of her swift -glances and .miles. You'll get used "to them." ) page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. e"Get used to them! Get used to being struck by lightning? - For that's just it. I feel as if I were struck by lightning every time she looks at me!" "Ah, well, and the third beauty, Mary Grey? How do you like her?" archly inquired Laura. "Oh, a lovely ladyl The most interesting woman I ever saw in my life. And to think of her being a widow! Why, she does not look older than you, Laura!" said Alden, with a very serious change of manner. "She is not many months older, I believe," said Laura gravely. "And only to think of her being a widow at her tender age I Why, she is like a child! But she told me she was almost compelled to marry when she was but fifteen years of age. And that her husband was a clergyman, who a short time after their marriage was called to a parish in Mobile, where he fell a victim to his devotion to the sick, during the prevalence of the yellow-fever." "So soon! She told you all this so soon?" meaningly inquired Laura. "She is such a child, you know, dear-such a mere child I She has all the confiding frankness and simplicity of a child, which is, I think, one of her greatest charms," said Alden earnestly. "Humph I Did she tell you her heart was 'buried in the grave of her husband?"' sarcastically inquired his sister. "No I why, no I of course not I Why did you ask?" questioned Alden, in surprise. "Only for information. It used to be buried there; but I suppose she has disinterred it, none the worse for its long planting, to bestow it on the widowed Governor." "Why-what do you mean, my dear?" anxiously in- quired Alden. ALDEN. 283 "I mean, that I think it very likely the pretty little widow means to become Mrs:. Governor Cavendish and mistress of the Government House. There/" "What! that lovely young creature marry a man old enough to be her father, or even her grandfather? You deeply shock me, Laura," anxiously exclaimed Alden. Laura looked keenly at her brother, His face flushed and paled, and flushed again. "Why, what under the light of the sun can .it be to -you, dear Alden, whom the little widow marries?" she in- quired. "Oh, nothing," he answered, with effected carelessness; "only one hates to see youth and age united so." But Laura was not deceived. She saw that the beau- tiful and most dangerous coquette had already, even in that first interview, brought the whole battery of her fas- cinations to bear upon the susceptible heart of the hitnd- some inexperienced youth, and had even in this brief space succeeded in making a deep impression, if not a lasting one. Laura looked earnestly at her brother, and thought how very attractive he also had grown in the time since she had seen him last.. He was tall, well-proportioned, and stately in person, with a finely set head, covered with curling black hair; regular features, large, luminous, dark-grey eyes, a Grecian nose, and a beautifully moulded mouth adorned with a slight dark mustache. In manner he was very gentle and graceful, and was besides gifted with a melodious voice. "If that woman does fall in love with him, she will marry him in spite of fate!" thought this partial sister, as she gazed upon her brother. "Now, Laura, my dear," he said, rising, "I must go to my room and write a letter to the good people at Lytton page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] X6oW A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Locge, to tell them not to exspect us down this Christmas, andd to ask them to forward my trunk." And he left the drawing-room for the purpose. CHAPTER XLV. THE COQUJTi'JT IN A DILEMMA. -A living, guilty thing, Whose every passion was a sting, That urged to guilt. BBYON. A LDEN LYTTON, a pure-minded, warm-hearted, high-spirited youth of twenty years, was just at the age to be charmed, dazzled and bewildered by the circle of beauty around him. Had he been left in freedom of choice, he would natur- ally and properly have fallen in love with the fair young daughter of his distinguished host, for Emma Cavendish was the most lovely, not only in person, but in mind and manners, of all the young beauties at the Government House. But she was also adorned with -graceful maidenly reserve, that held her youthful admirers all at a reverential distance. And Alden Lytton at this time, much as he ad- mired lEmma Cavendish, would as soon have thought of aspiring to the affections of aprincess royal as to the regards of the Governor's beautiful daughter. And on the other hand, Mary Grey allured him, with all the witching wiles of which she was the perfect mistress. And he yielded to the spell. For the first time in her short life, the selfish, sensual and designing woman really loved! -loved with one of THE C OQUETTE IN: A DILEMMA. 285 those sudden, unreasonable, irresistible passions that some- times kindle at. the first meeting of the eyes. And she feltr that she must'have his love, or lose her own lifel And yet, even supposing that, he should love her as she desired and determined that he should, how could the poor; young student gratify those ambitious aspirations for for- tune and position that had been the dream of her life? No one but Governor Cavendish was: able to' do- that' for her. Ah! why had not Governor Cavendish the youth and beauty of the poor student; or why had not Alden Lytton the wealth and position of the great statesman, One night when the Governor's family circle and guests were assembled in the drawing-room, she allowed the grey-: haired magnate to sit by her- side. and whisper graceful compliments into her ear, but-to - use' Emma's quaint expression-she "eyed" young Alden Lytton across the!. room until, between the witchery of her bewildering glances and the jealousy excited by the Governor's marked ratten- tions, the young victim nearly lost his senses. That night, Alden Lytton went to his room- disturbed by the first passion of his young life, and haunted byi the- vision of dark, melting eyesi and the echo of sweet, pene- trating tones. That:night Mary Grey went to her room to pace the floor in more raging excitement than famished and furious tigress ever paced her den. She was torn between the madness of her life-long ambition, and the madness-of her sudden and violent passion. '"I could have either," she said, proudly erecting her head -"I could have either the love of the beautiful -and beloved youth or the wealth of the distinguished statesman. But I cannot have both!" she exclaimed, smiting her breast --"I cannot have both! Why cannot I have both-the page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 286 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. love of the boy and the wealth of the man? Why cannot I have all I want in this world, if I am willing to take the consequences?" She paused in her raging walk and stood still, while her fce grew at once livid and fiery, like a burning coal cover-' ed with white ashes, and her eyes smouldered and flashed. "I will have both," she said-"I will have both the love of the boy and the wealth of the man. Yes, though I pay down the price of my soul for them I " And so saying she went to bed, not to sleep, but to plot-and plot-and plot. The next day was Christmas-day. Nowhere in the world was the great Christian festival of the year kept with more enthusiasm than in this city, and nowhere in the city was it kept with more clat than at the Government House. The family attended divine service in the morning, and in the evening the Governor entertained a select circle of friends at dinner. The Governor's fair young daughter, chaperoned by Mrs. Grey, did the honors of her father's house and table with such exquisite grace and dignity as to call forth the most respectful admiration. Christmas week was even unusually gay and lively. Every evening there was a dinner or dancing party somewhere in the upper circle of society. And to every one of these parties the young people of the Government House went. The Governor said, as their time was so short, he should impose no prudential restraints on their pleasures, such as he should feel constrained to do if they were to spend the whole winter in town. But his owh health was failing, so that he could not always attend his young people to their parties. On some of these occasions; Mrs. Grey, who usually ac- THEo COQUETTE IN A DILEMMA. 287 companied the young girls as their chaperon, would say, with her pretty air of childlike frankness: ".Do, Mr. Cavendish, let me stay home, and be 'daughter' to-night, and read to you.", Whereupon he would lay his hand caressingly on her graceful head and answer kindly: ' No, dear child; I cannot be so selfish as that." -"Ah, but you will be so lonesome here, all by-yourself. Do, please, let me stay." "No, dear; I would not keep my own daughter away from the natural and proper enjoyments of her youth, and do you suppose that I could be more unkind to you than to her i No, darling," he would answer, passing his hand fondly over her shining dark hair. "Al, but it would give me so much pleasure to stay. Do let me! Do, please!" "What! have you really no desire to go into these gay scenes?" "No; none whatever. They are so bright and dazzling, so bewildering and confusing to me I! And I would much rather sit here on' this 'cushion at your feet, and lay your favorite volume upon your knees, and so read to you all the evening. That would be so nice!" ," Yes; so nice!" he echoed, with a sigh. "Do let me! do, please!" ghe pleaded, with her dark eyes raised and fixed upon his. , "You sweet child! you sweetest child, don't you see that you must go with the young girls? You are nothing but a child yourself, and a very silly little pet, I sometimes think-not half such a woman as my self-reliant daughter Emma-but still you happen to be a widow, and so you have to go and chaperon these girls. They could not go without you. It is absurd, but it is conventional." "And must I go?" page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 2s 288 A, B UTEA'UTIFUL FIEND. H " Yes, darling; and as the girls are all in their rooms' getting ready, you had better go and prepare to attend them." "And must I go?" she repeated. "Yes, dear child, you must go and matronize the young ladies, who are ten times better able to take cpare of them. selves than you are of yourself It is absurdity, but it is -;-etiquette." "Well," she sighed, "I will obey you. There is some comfort in obeying, even though you send me away from you," she added softly, as she arose and left the parlor. These little scenes, with some modifications of course, took place every evening; and' always with the same' result. Every evening, when- the girls - retired to dress for'the ball or party to which they happened to be going, Mary Grey -would Ilinger behind them, and as soon-as she found herself alone with the Governor, she would sit down at his feet and plead for permission to stay home with him and be daughter for that one time. And every evening the Governor would play with her pretty black ringlets, and decline to accept her offered' sacrifice. And she would get off-'in time to make an elaborate and ibewitching toilet. Of course she knew how the scene would end. And thus every evenings he took care, by her blandish- ments, to rivet the chains of her elderly lover, before she went off to the ball or party to practice her fascinations upon her youthful admirer. At these entertainments she played the part of youthful matron and chaperon with charming piquancy. Childlike, beautiful and bewitching as she was, she kept her seat like any faded wall-flower And grave men smiled THE COQUETTE IN A DILEMMA. 289 to hear the young, pretty creature solemnly counsel her young lady charges in something like this way: "Now don't overheat yourself with dancing, my Emma. No, Electra, I don't approve of round dances. You must not engage in one of them. Laura, my dear, don't venture on an ice now. Wait until you are cooler." "How funny it is, and how charming, to see her taking care of girls no younger, than herself. And she gso baby- ish!" said one to another. Now, why did the beautiful young siren prefer to keep her seat and play "wall-flower?" First, because she could not dance as well as some others. Secondly, because she was in becoming widow's weeds, and she thought it was pretty and graceful, piquant and interesting, to sitthere in her childish loveliness and play matron. And thirdlyand mostly, because handsome Alden Lytton sat by her side, looking love to her from his eloquent dark eyes. At length it was not only with his eyes that he made love to her. One evening in the Christmas week, when all the young party from the Government House were at a public ball got up for benevolent purposes, and Mrs. Grey was there as their chaperon, and Alden Lytton was there as their escort, while the three young ladies were all engaged in dancing, and Mary Grey and her young .adorer were seated together on a side sofa, Alden worshipping her with his eyes, he sud- denly whispered: "Do you know I have been very happy all this week?" "Have you? I am so glad to hear you say so!!" her lips answered, but her eyes said ten times warmer things. "Very, very happy! Have I niot been by your side every evening? Every most blessed evening?" he mur- mured fondly. 18 page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. She dropped her eyes under the boy's ardent gaze, and really blushed; for this time she was really in love, and not only pretending to be so. "Does that make you happy?" at length she murmured very softly. "Does that make me happy? It makes my heaven! Oh, May I Ah, forgive me. I did not mean to be so free as to call you 'May.' But then-but then-I always think of you as 'May,' 'sweet May,' " he murmured. "I love to be called 'May.' No one has ever called me May since my mother died," she whispered softly. "Then let me do so, for I love you, May! I love you!" he panted, keeping his eyes fixed upon hers, which fell be- neath his fiery glance. "You are not angry with me!'$he breathed, trying to look in her face. But she turned away her head and drooped her face. "You are not angry with me?" he pleaded. Without looking up, with her head still turned away from him, and her face still drooping, she slipped her hand into his, and whispered softly: "No, not angry, but so surprised, and oh, so happy!" He started with a joyous shock; he pressed her hand ardently; he longed to press it to his lips; he wished him- self and her a thousand miles from the crowded ball-room. He whispered softly, yet almost fiercely: "Then you love me! you love me! A million of bless- ings on your head for the words I Oh, sweet May! Oh, sweetest, sweetest May!" "ZBush I here comes Miss Cavendish on the arm of her partner," whispered Mary Grey, lifting her head and trying to recover her composure. Alden also looked up and endeavored to resume his usual aspect. But he was too young to dissemble, and THE COQUETTE IN A DILEMMA. 291 his handsome face beamed with a radiant joy that almost transfigured him to angelic beauty. And fair Emma Cavendish as she came up caught his radiant smile, as a flower catches a sun ray, and thought- Never mind what, for he had no eyes for rEmma then. The youth was in the power of the fiend. He got up, however, and, with a bow, resigned his seat to Miss Cavendish. Emma smiled her thanks and sat -down, while Alden stood hanging over the end of the sofa on which his " divin- ity" sat. Emma Cavendish, however, did not remain seated; she was full of youth and health and gayety, and she was very fond of dancing; so when a gallant young Colonel of cav- alry came up and respectfully claimed her hand for the next quadrille, she arose and permitted him to lead her to the head of the set then forming. Alden immediately took the vacated seat by his siren. "Dearest May.{ sweetest May! You permit me to call you, May?" he whispered softly. "I love to hear you call me so," she murmured, in reply. "Dearest May! My happey week was ushered in by one miserable night of love, jealousy and torture. Do you re- member it? It was the night we all stayed home, and Governor Cavendish sat by you the whole evening. Do you remember it?" "Oh, yes! I was bored almost to death! Did you not see that I was?" "No. I only saw that the Governor was devoting him- self to you. And I was perfectly wretched." 4 "What! jealous of that old gentleman V" she said, with a light laugh. "Ah, May! they told me you would marry him." page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 292 A BEAUTIFUL F-IEND. "Marry him I Why, he's old enough to be my grand- father!" she said, lifting her beautiful slender black eye- -brows, with an air of consternation. "Then there is no truth in it, dearest May?" "No truth in what?" "In the rumor that you are going to be the mistress of the Government House?" "Not one bit," she softly answered, stealing her little hand in his. Again he pressed that small hand ardently, and wished himself and her a thousand miles from the crowded ball- room. / "You make me so happy!" he muttered. "Oh! I -bless the day that brought me to the city-and to the house where I first met the angel of my life." "There-hush here comes Laura," she whispered, as Laura Lytton approached them. "The best people are all going away now. And Emma Ithinks we had better retire as soon as this quadrille is over," said Laura. :"I think so too," agreed Mrs. Grey. And as soon as lEmma and Electra joined them they -went to 'the cloak-room to put on their wraps, while Alden went to order the carriage. In half an hour they were all at home. Governor Cav- endish had gone to bed. The young girls, tired with dancing, soon went to their :rooms. - Alden found an opportunity to say a few words to Mary Grey before they -parted for the night. "You love me I Say so again, dearest?" he whispered. "I love you," she answered, softly. "And you will always love me, and some day you will be my wife?" T THE S&OORCERESS. 293: I will always love you. And if I ever marry I will marry only you!" "Bless you! bless you, dearest!" he ardently whis- pered, kissing her hand; "bless you, dearestl you have made me so happy!" i ' CHAP TPEg XLVI. THE SORCERESS., " A serpent queen In beauty, baleful still . OWEN MV-Pprme. ; ; TI HEAR strange rumors of my lovely guest-that at all the balls and parties where she appears, and i which she adorns, the beautiful Mrs. Grey is a perpetual and voluntary 'wall-flower,' taking no part in dance or waltz or promenade, scarcely indeed even going to the supper-table," said Governor Cavendish, one morning after breakfast, when he found himself alone in the parlor with the pretty widow. She looked up in his face, and smiled with childlike frankness. "Is this true?" he inquired. "It is true," she answered. "But why do you deny yourself the pleasures suitable to your youth?" v "In the first place, dear friend, as I told you before, I have no taste for them. A youth like mine has been-a youth disciplined by adversity--is cured of all such- vani- ties," she answered, with that sweet blending of a- smile and a sigh that always so deeply touched her lover's com- passionate heart. page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 294 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. He looked on her with eyes full of admiration and ten- derness, as he answered again: "Ah, but such a state of mind at your age is most un. natural. I would that I could restore you to your lost youthful zest for innocent youthful pleasures." She smiled on him, and shook her graceful head as she archly replied: "Ah, but, you see, it is not only the loss of my taste for gayeties that keeps me in my seat all the evening; it is my responsibilities as a chaperon-duties that are as incum- bent upon me at seventeen as if. I were seventy. And just now my responsibilities are somewhat complicated," she added significantly. "As for instance?" inquired the Governor, elevating his eyebrows. "As for instance, I have now a young man in my party." ' "Well?" "A very handsome, very poor, and consequently a very ineligible young man, from whom it is my duty, as chap- eron, to guard my young ladies." "I don't understand. Why is Mr. Alden Lytton ineli. gible?" inquired the Governor, elevating his eyebrows. "Ah, you never were a mother!-I mean, a chaperon!" said the widow, shrugging her shoulders. "No, I never was," meekly confessed the Governor. "Or you would understand that Mr. Alden Lytton, however amiable and accomplished he may be, is a veryv ineligible acquaintance for young ladies, because he is both very handsome and very poor. Now do you understand?-" "Not a bit." "O dear me I Well, then, to put it more plainly: this handsome youth, with his big black eyes and winning ways, might, if he had too free access to her society, have the presumption to fall in love with Miss Cavendish. Now then," THE SORCERESS. 295 "Well, but I don't see where the presumption comes" in. 'A cat may look at a king,' or at-a queen even." "But if he should have the-misfortune we will call it, to fall in love so far above his degree, why, young ladies, even such rare young ladies as Miss Cavendish, are human, and she might possibly return his affection. There now." "So she might. It would be quite natural," coolly observed the Governor. "But you would never like him for a son-in law!" said the widow, in perplexity. . "Why not? He is young, handsome and accomplished enough to please my girl; and talented, high-principled, moral and religious enough to satisfy me." "But he is poor-absolutely penniless," said the widow, in amazement. "What of that? Emma will have enough f6r both." "You don't mean to say that you would accept as a son-in-law a penniless young man?" *' If he were) such a young man as Alden Lytton, and were accepted by my daughter, he certainly would not be rejected by me," said the Governor. "I am amazed," murmured the widow. "That is because you really have misjudged me, my child. And so you kept your seat, and kept Alden Lytton tied to your apron strings every evening, and all the even- ing, to prevent him from falling in love with Emma Caven- dish and winning her affections?" "Yes, sir, I did." "But what if he had fallen in love with you, and won your affections?"' archly demanded the Governor. "Fallen in love with an old widow like mel Non- sense I You are laughing at me, Governor I With an old widow like mel" "Old widow of seventeen I Yes, you lovely child! It page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] 296 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. would be the most likely thing in the world that he should do so, and win your affections to boot!" said the Governor gravely. "Oh, no!" responded the widow, shaking her pretty head, " he could never win -my heart. I could never love one so much younger than myself." "Younger than yourself, my child? Why, he is not younger than you! Quite the contrary! You are but seventeen; he is almost twenty-one." "Is that so?" "Of course it is." "Ah, but then I feel ever so much older than he is! And one thing I know, I never could marry any gentleman unless he was a great deal older than myself, and he was one I could rest on, look up to, esteem, honor, and almost worship 1" she said, in a low, earnest tone, lifting her dark eyes to his. He gazed down upon her eloquent, false face with fond admiration. "Ah, what man is there on earth," he whispered, " who could deserve such sentiments from you? I would I were that exalted man, sweet Mary!" In the crisis of a sentimental love scene, there is often a ridiculous interruption. Just as Mary Grey lifted her long lashes and fixed her dark eyes on those of the Gov- ernor to convey the flattering answer that she could not utter with her lips, a ringing voice was heard outside, ex- claiming: "I'll ask him. I dare say he will!"And the door was thrown open, and Electra sprang in-eyes and teeth flash- ing and gleaming. "Well, my dear, what can I do for you?" inquired the Governor, endeavoring to recover his composure. "Let me' have 'Blue Blazes' to ride this morning? The THE SORCER-ESS. 297 girls have all such splendid mounts except me! And m;e -they wish to put off with ' Swansdown.' Why, I had as lief ride a sofa cushion!" exclaimed Electra indignantly. "But, my dear, what is it? I haven't heard. What's up this morning?" "My temper's up for one thing!" spitefully rejoined Electra. "Ha! ha l-I mean what's afoot?" l"Nobody's afoot; they're all a horseback, except me. And I am to put up with ' Swansdown,' unless you let me ride ' Blue Blazes.'"' "Ah I Does Mr. Alden Lytton accompany you?" ! Oh, yes!" "And what does he ride?" "'Snapdragon.'" "Ah! a more dangerous beast than 'Blue Blazes.' And Miss Cavendish, my dear, what does she ride?" I Oh, ' Spitfire!'" "Whe-ew!" said Mr. Cavendish, with a long whistle A "And Miss Lytton?" 1 "A i "Oh, she puts up with ' Susy Brown.'" "Prudent girl! I recommend you to follow her ex. ample, and put up with ' Swansdown.'" "I'd as lief ride a muff." "As you please, my dear. And now, where are you all going to ride, this frosty morning?" "Out to the Lunatic Asylum." "Oh! AhM! Certainly! To be sure 1 How stupid of me to ask the question, when I might have known the manifest destination of so crazy a cavalcade!" said the Governor, as he arose and rung the bell. A footman answered the summons. "Go to the stable and tell the head groom to have the two horses, '-Spitfire and 'Blue Blazes,' put back into page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] 298 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. their stalls, and on no account to allow them to be taker out. Tell him further, to saddle 'Swansdown for Mist Cavendish, and to send to Martin's livery-stable for two safe horses for the two other young ladies." The footman bowed and retired. And the Governor turned to Elentra. "You see, my dear, I cannot permit you and Emma to take these wild Mazeppa rides. But as for Mr. Lytton, if he pleases to venture on ' Snapdragon,' why, I will not in terfere with his free agency." Electra tossed her head defiantly and darted out. "Ah, my child I I can see what trouble you have witl these other children! these wilful children I and you onlJ a child yourself!" sighed the Governor, with a fond glance at his companion. "You must excuse them. They have not been discip lined by sorrow as I have been," she answered, so sweetly so patiently and cheerfully, that the infatuated man was again about to speak the irrevocable words, when agair the door suddenly opened, and all the young equestriai party burst in, looking bright, happy and bewitching ii their piquant riding habits and hats., The Governor arose, with a sigh. This was indeed hit regular day for receiving visitors on official business, and he was already a few minutes behind time. "Do you not go and ride with the others?" he inquired of Mrs. Grey. "Oh, no I They do not need me, and I prefer to remain here," artfully answered the siren. The Governor smiled. He was pleased, as she knew he would be, for now he would hurry through with his official business and soon rejoin her, and inevitably speak the words that she thought would seal her brilliant destiny. "Well, young ladies," he said, with a bow and a smile I 80BOBB1BS. 299 THE sORCERESS. that made him seem twenty years younger, "I wishyo a very delightful ride. I shall hope to see you at dinner. "Thank you, sir," said Laura, speaking for the party. MAr. Cavendish bowed again, and left the room. And the girls went dancing out into the back hall to get their little riding-whips that were standing in the hat- In one moment Mary Grey found herself alone, and in the next Alden Lytton, booted and spurred for his ride, ptood by her side wm" he whis- "You are not going with us, my darling pered sadly. "No! Ah me!" she sighed. "But why? Oh, why can you not accompany us? "Ah, dearest, you know I am only a poor dependent. I must not even accept all the favors that are offered me, lest Inwear favor out. I must stay here to-day, and make myself useful. ' In a word, I must pour out the old gentle- man's cocoa at his, luncheon time. It is his daughter's duty, of course, but I must do it." Now this was a falsehood; for Governor Cavendish never took luncheon on cabinet days, but contented him- self with a biscuit and a single glass of sherry, which was brought-to him in his office. But of course Alden Lytton did not know this; so he breathed his whole noble and loving heart in the aspiration with which he said: l "Ah, darling May I would to Heaven the time were come when I might rescue you from all this! Dear May I am studying very hard. I shall study harder still fol your sake. In a year I hope to graduate in law. Then t shall be called to the bar. With the prestige of my father'a great name, and with the diligent use of such abilities a Heaven has bestowed upon me, I hope soon to get into : lucrative practice, and even to rise high in my profession page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] 300 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Then, May, I shall claim this dear hand. You will wait a year or two for your toiling servant, sweet May? ' he mur- mured, caressing her hand. "I would wait ten years-twenty years for you, my best beloved, my only beloved!" she said, gazing tenderly into his earnest, honest eyes. And at that moment she almost meant what she said. "Oh, May, my only joy! how happy you. make me! Repeat those words, dearest dear! Tell me again I am your ' only beloved,' that I may know I am not dreaming!" he breathed, drawing her still closer to his side. "My only beloved," she sighed, in tones that thrilled him through, and remained with him all that day. The musical laughter and the pattering feet of the young ladies were heard as they were returning. "They are coming!" he murmured, as he snatched one fiery, impass oned kiss. "Oh, May! oh, sweetest! I shall not enjoy thi ride at all without you!" "Oh, yesl hope you will,'" she answered. "For I like to see you enjoy yourself even though I may not be able to share your pleasure. For, ah me! I must stay here and attend to the old gentleman to-day; for he is very infirm, and needs some care besides that of his hired servants. But do you go and take your ride, through this fine frosty atmosphere," she added with a patient smile that went to the youth's heart. - "You are an angel, May I Oh I when will the time come when I may take this angel to my bosom!" he sighed. "If you please, sir, the hosses is at the door" said the ,b hall footman, making his appearance, "Come, Alden. We are all ready," called Laura from the front hall. "Good-by! good-by, dearest one! I am leaving you for a few hours, and I feel as though I were leaving A GRAND NEW-YEAR S RECEPTION, 301 you for yearsf he whispered in a low voice, as he left the pretty widow. And thus it was that Mary Grey managed to retak the love and confidence of both her suitors, although they were both under the same roof with her. She contrived never to see both at the same-time unless there were sev- eral other persons present to divide attention. When alone with Governor Cavendish she spoke slight- ingly of Alden Lytton, as a peevish boy much too younge to be thought of as a, lover by her. When alone with Alden Lytton she spoke with half contemptuous pity of Governor Cavendish, as an infirm old man whom she could never dream of as a possible suitor. And she succeeded in making two distinct impressions upon the mind of each; firstly, that she was an angel; sec- ondly, that this angel loved and esteemed only him to whom she was then speaking. CHAPTER XLVII. A GRAND NEW-YEARnS RECEPTION. pHE great event of the season was the Governor's levee . on the first of January. It was to be his Excellency's last New-year's reception. He was to retire from office on the first of the ensuing March. On the morning of the last day of the year, while the young ladies of his family circle were in their rooms, en- gaged in devising the most elegant toilets for the pageant- ry of the next day, Governor Cavendish sent a message to Mrs. Grey, respectfully soliciting her presence in the *) page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] 302 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. -drwing-room for a private interview on business, for a few minutes. Mrs. Grey arose and looked into the mirror, smoothed' her shining black hair, which was smooth enough already, settled her coquettish little cap, which was well enough before, and went down into the drawing-room, where she found Mr. Cavendish alone, and walking up and down the floor. He paused in his walk, came forward and took her hand and led her to a sofa, and seated himself beside her, say- ing softly: "Dearest friend, to-morrow will be a rather trying day to me; for to-morrow I shall have to hold my last New- year's reception." "Yes, I know," answered the pretty widow, in a sym- pathetic and respectful tone. "And to-morrow some thousands of gentlemen and ladies, and of men and women who are not gentlemen and ladies, and of males and females who do not even deserve to be -called men and women, will present themselves to me; and every one of their hands, fair or foul, clean or soiled, will have to be shaken." "Hew dreadful!" murmured Mary- Grey. "Such, sweet friend, is the character of a chief magis- trate's New-year's reception. That is not the worst. Some lady must be by my side. Heretofore I have had my aged mother and my matronly widowed sister with me, to add feminine grace and dignity to what would otherwise seem, to me at least, a most ungrateful and undignified position. Now, however, I have no one. My aged mother is too infirm to leave her home in the country. My sister has married a missionary, and gone to -India. And here is my young daughter, who is too youthful to assist me, unless countenanced by the presence ; A GRAND NEW-YEAR'S RECEPTION. 303 of some matronly friend. Now, though you are probably but little if any older than my Emma, still you have been married, and you are widowed, and you bear a matronly title-' Mrs. Grey.' I would, sweet one, othat I could persuade you to change that name I But I will not tease you about that just now. You are very good to me, as it is. But now I wish to know whether you can aid me - in my embarrassment." "Command me, Mr. Cavendish. You know it would give me the greatest delight to serve you," she answered earnestly. "Nay, but I would not like to ask you to do anything for my sake which would not be in itself, and independent of me, most agreeable to you." "Tell me then. What is it?" "I wish you to stand with me and my young daughter to receive the public to-morrow." "Why, of course, of course I will do it, with the geat- est pride and pleasure," eagerly assented Mrs. Grey; and .. this time, for a wonder, she spoke the truth. "I thank you from my heart, dear lady.' The task you assume so kindly will be a wearisome and -disgusting one, but, thank Heaven, it will continue but for a few hours, and it will be the last Now, sweet friend, I will not de- tain you from your graceful feminine avocations longer," said Mr. Cavendish. And Mary Grey, not at all unwilling to leave her el- derly lover, smiled and bowed and withdrew from the room. Mary Grey had told Charles Cavendish the- truth when she said she would assist at his New-year's reception with the greatest pride and pleasure. And I set it down to her account, because she so very seldom spoke the truth that when she did she ought to have full credit for doing so. She went to her chamber thrilled with :delight at the page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] 3U4 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. prospect before her. To be a central figure in' the ap- proaching pageantry! To stand between Governor Caven- dish and his young daughter, and with them receive the homage of the city, of the State, of the nation--yes, and through its foreign representatives-of the whole world To see her name paraded before the public, in the next day's papers, something after this fashion: "Governor Cavendish and Miss Cavendish, assisted by their friend and guest, fhe beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Grey, did the honors of the Executive Mansion, with their accustomed grace and dignity," etc. You see that Governor Cavendish, the time-worn poli- tician and worldly wise man, and Mrs. Grey, the pretty little artful, but inexperienced adventuress, looked upon 'New-year's "Tomfoolery" with very different eyes. Governor Cavendish saw in it a necessary, but an ex- ceedingly wearisome and somewhat vulgar farce. Mrs. Grey viewed it as a high court pageantry, in which the Governor, herself, and the young ladies of the family circle, were to figure almost as king, queen and princesses receiv- ing the homage of their subjects. She immediately began to look over her wardrobe, and to select the most becoming dress she' owned. And she really possessed a very rich and beautiful wardrobe, the costliness of which was rather inconsistent with her con- tinued professions or complaints of poverty and destitution. She spent the last day of the old year in arranging a magnificent dress of black velvet, black satin and black Brussels lace, and black marabout feathers, in which to play her " queenly " part the next day. That New-year's eve there were, as usual, many gay parties and balls arranged for the purpose of dancing or singing, eating or drinking, or otherwise frolicking the old year out and the new year in. A GRAND NEW-YEiAR S RECEPTION. 3J5 And the Governor and his family had received invita- tions to several of the best entertainments. But they ac- cepted none. A deep, sincere, religious vein in the Gov- ernor's mind led him to regard the close of the year with feelings of peculiar solemnity. "It' is a time," he said, "for self-recollection, and not for distraction; a time for reflection, not for frolic. Be gay as you please to-morrow, on the glad new year; but watch with the dying year to-night." His young people heartily agreed with him, and very sincerely declared that they had no desire to go out that night. So the family spent the evening alone, in the smaller drawing-room. They passed the hours in cheerful conver- sation, in appropriate reading and in music. A little be- fore midnight, they joined in a prayer suited to the occasion, and led by Mr. Cavendish. As the clock struck twelve, they sung a beautiful New- year's hymn, to- welcome in the year. And then, with mutual good wishes, they separated for the night. "I wonder where I shall be this time next New-year?" asked Mary Gray of herself, as she stood reflected in her toilet mirror. I know who I shall be, at least," she added, proudly-"Mrs. Governor Cavendish, or Mrs. Secretary Cavendish, or perhaps even Mrs. President Cavendish! for this game of politics possesses glorious chances " The grand New-year's reception at the Executive man- sion came off the next day. It is not necessary to de- scribe it. All official New-year's receptions, in every capital of the Union, and every year of the century, are exactly alike, 'and have been described by the reporters ad nazuseam. One short extract from a long description in the chief morning paper of the next day, concerning only the imme- 19 page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 306 A-BEAUTIFUL FIEND. diate circle of the Governor, is all that I need give you. It is this: "The Governor seemed somewhat worn and harassed, probably by the cares of his office. He will, no doubt, be glad to retire from public life at the close of his present term. His Excellency was assisted by his fair young daughter, Miss Fnmmna Cavendish, a beautiful and blooming blonde of 'sweet sixteen.' She wore a trained dress of pale blue silk, with an'overskirt of rich cardinal point lace, pearl jewelry on her neck and arms, and- white rosebuds in her golden hair. "She received her father's guests with all the grace of girlhood, and yet with a dignity that seemed beyond her years. She was charmingly supported in her onerous du- ties by the brilliant little beauty, Mrs. Grey, who was ele- gantly attired in a trained dress of black velvet, with an upper skirt of black satin, trimmed with black Brussels lace. She wore jet jewelry on neck and arms, and the starry white flowers of thefragrant Cape jessamine in her dusky hair." There was a great deal that preceded and a great deal that followed this paragraph; but it was all very much in the same style, and need not be repeated. In another part of the same paper, under the head of "FASHFTONABLE INRTTTJTGOEIE," was- this item: C APPROACHNG MARRIAGE IN HGH LIFE.-It is ru- mored that our illustrious chief magistrate will soon lead to the hymeneal altar the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Grey, now tie guest of his daughter at the Executive man- sion." CHAPTER XL\iIl., RUMORS. THE appearance of this paragraph created quite a con sternation in the Governor's family. As it happened, each one of them read it apart, as the paper chanced-to fall into his or her hands, and for some hours not one spoke of it to another. The first that broke silence on the subject was rmmas Cavendish. With the paper in her hand, she went into her father's, study and laid it before him, and with her finger on the paragraph, inquired: "My dear father, is this true?" The sexagenarian statesman blushed like a school-girl, as he answered: "My dear daughter, it is true, and yet not true. I hope to make it entirely true; but I have not yet spoken very definitely to the lady, of whose favorable response I am, of course, as yet uncertain. But, my beloved child, now that this subject is broached between us, let me know how you feel about it. I would not, even to secure thecomfort of my declining years, give my daughter one moment's unea- siness. So come, my child, tell me your thought. Are you willing to receive this sweet young friend and companion of yours, so near your own age too, into a still more inti- mate and permanent relation?" Emma burst into tears, and weRt and sobbed -historie-i (307) page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] 308 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. ally, and tried to control herself, and suppress her feelings, but utterly failed. "Come, come, my darling I If this is going to distress you so much, let it drop. Iam not in any way, as yet, committed to this lady. I can, now, withdraw with honor. And I will do so, rather than distress you," said Mr. Cav- endish, drawing his daughter upon his lap, and pressing her to his bosom. She threw her arms around his-neck, and embraced and .kissed him with a daughter's pure and earnest love. And then she said: "No, no, dearest papa, do not withdraw from any act that is going to make you happy. Dearest papa, I only desire your happiness, I have no thought or wish beyond that." "But I had hoped that even you, my beloved child, might be made much happier by my marriage with Mary Grey." To this Emma made no reply. "How is it with- you, my child? Tell me your inmost thought," said the Governor. "Dearest papa, I have told you my inmost thought. It is for your happiness alone." "But in regard to Mrs. Grey, my dear." "Dear papa, just now I have not confidence in that lady," sadly replied Emma. "My daughter, you shock me beyond measure! IUpon what ground have you lost confidence in Mrs. Grey?" "Dear papa, I cannot tell you, for I do not know." "What cause has she given you for this distrust?" "No cause whatever. By no look, word or act has Mary Grey justified my doubt of her, which I think is a true instinct, or intuition; but which certainly may be nothing more than jealousy and prejudice. Dear papa, do R U MO R S. 309 not mind me at all. I am no more than a foolish, inexpe- - rienced girl. You are a wise and experienced man. Judge for yourself, and your judgment is sure to be just," said his daughter, as she kissed him and withdrew from the room. At this same hour, while Governor Cavendish and his daughter were talking over the newspaper paragraph, in which both were so much interested, Alden Lytton, pale with jealous rage and despair, was pacing up and down the drawing-room floor. He had just read the paragraph) every word of which had struck like a dagger through his heart. As he paced, he struck his clenched fist repeatedly upon his chest, and clutched his dark hair, gesticulated wildly, groaned and sighed, and muttered maledictions through his set teeth--behaving altogether more like a lunatic than a sedate law student. But then he was only a boy, twenty years of age, pas- sionately in love for the first time, and now nearly mad dened with jealousy. "It looked like, it! I declare before Heaven it looked like it! Yesterday at the-reception, as she stood there at his side, beautiful and beaming, gracious and fascinating, in her courtly robes and with her courtly manner, receiving with him the homage of the world, I declare it looked as if she were already his idolized wife, sharing with him all his affections at home, all his dignities abroad. "Oh! I shall go mad!"--with another clutch at his raven ringlets--"I shall go mad! I know it must be so! How his face beamed on her! with what a claiming and possessing smile, as if he were proud and happy to knouw that she was his own, and wished all the world to know it too! "I shall kill myself or him!"- with a violent blow upon his own chest. page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "She has deceived -me; has made a fool of me; and is laughing at me now! I will have an end of this! I will confront the false siren, and have the truth from her own lips once for all!' And if she has been false to me--" He ground his teeth together as if he would have ground them to powder, and then went and rang the bell with a jerk that brought the hall footman hastily into the room'. "Go to Mrs. Grey and give my respects, and ask her if she will do me the favor to come down here and speak with me for a few moments." The footman bowed, and went on his errand. "Now for it! This would really be fun if it were not just a little bit dangerous. But, however, the peril only gives the play a little more piquancy," said Mrs. Grey to herself, as she received this message. Then she glanced at the mirror, smoothed her hair, ad- justed her bewitching little widow's cap, and descended to the drawing-room. Alden was still pacing up and down the floor, a prey to the most stormy passions. ' But as he saw Mary Grey gracefully floating toward him, he controlled himself by an almost Superhuman effort, and went to meet her, took her gently by the hand, and led her up before the front window, through which the light of the morning sun shone full upon his own pale, agonized brow, and upon her beautiful, false face. They stood thus gazing on each other in silence for a few seconds, and then he raised the paper that he held in his hand, pointed to the paragraph, and with a voice deep, melodious and singularly steady and gentle, considering his strong agitation, he said. "One word! Is this statement true, or false?" Looking him' full and fondly in the face, she answered clearly and firmly: RUM ORS. 3" C FALSE!" He believed her. Dropping the paper and clasping his hands, he raised his dark eyes toward Heaven with a look of relief, thankfulness, and joy unspeakable. Then she broke into a peal of soft silvery laughter, which ceased suddenly as she turned grave, and with comic solemnity gazed into his face, and shook her head, saying: "Oh, you bad, bad boy! To doubt me, mel Why, what an awfully jealous mind you have! What a tyrant you will be when we are once married--" "When we are once married!" The words, the thought thrilled him with such sweet rapture that he let her go no further; he caught her to his true heart, and kissed her again and again with the pure, passionate fervor of a true boy's first love, breathing flute-like all the while the music of her name: "May-May-May-May!" "There, dearest-there, -beloved, that will do. You take poor May's breath away. Besides, some one might come in. There, darling, let me go," she said, gently ex- tricating herself. "Oh, but I did not mean to call you pet names either, sir! You don't deserve them one bit! You are an awful young man! A perfectly awful young man I A regular young Othello! To doubt me--me!" she said, relapsing into burlesque gravity and solemnly shaking her head. "Forgive me, May! Sweetest, dearest May! For how could I help it? Recall the scenes of yesterday. To have seen you, standing by the Governor's side, helping him to receive the world--he looking down upon'you with such a smile of conscious and proud proprietorship; you looking up to him with such confiding and respectful affection! II tell you, sweet May, it nearly drove me crazy yesterday; although I hope I hid my sufferings so successfully that no page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] 312 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. one saw them. And this morning to see that paragraph!- the announcement-of your approaching marriage with the Governor. Oh, May, can you wonder that I was driven nearly mad?" he pleaded, with his eyes on hers. "No; I wonder at nothing you can do, for you are a horrid young man, a dreadful young Othello! I shall ex- pect you to %smother me with pillows in a jealous fit, some day, once we are married." "Once we are married!"Again the thought was too much-for his self-possession. He caught and pressed her to his faithful heart, and kissed her in a sweet delirium. "Promise me that you will never doubt me again, dar- ling," she whispered, as she gently released herself. "I never will, so help me all the angels!" he said, sink- ing on one knee at her feet and bowing his head over her hand, as if to give more solemnity to the vow. And at that moment the door opened, and Governor Cavendish entered the room, and stood gazing upon them in amazement. CHAPTER XLTX. THE BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Oh, your sweet eyes, your low replies: A great enchantress you may be; But there was that across his throat Which you had scarcely cared to see. TENNYsoN. OVERNOR CAVENDISH stood just within the door of the drawing-room, petrified with amaze- ment, as he gazed upon the group before him-Alden THE BEAUTIFUL FIEND. 313 Lytton kneeling at the feet of Mary Grey, who was smiling down upon her youthful lover. Alden Lytton, with his back toward the door, and his eyes fixed in fond adoration on the face of his beloved, did not perceive the presence of the intruder behind him. Mary Grey, with her face toward the door, saw the Governor without seeming to see him, with one quick and quickly withdrawn glance. But she did not lose her pres- ence of mind for an instant. Smiling as, sweetly as ever upon her young adorer, she took his hand and said: "Rise, foolish boy! You may utterly trust me to do all that I can to promote your happiness." And she looked up smiling; but the Governor was gone. She saw that he had withdrawn without having been seen by Alden, and also without having perceived that he had been seen by herself She felt much relieved by this fact. It would help her to smooth the affair over the more easily. She scarcely heard her young lover's earnest, im- passioned reply: "I do trust you, May, my beloved, I trust you utterly!" The chime of silver laughter and the pattering of light feet announced the approach of their youthful companions. And soon the door opened, and F mma, Laura and Electra came in. "The three Graces!" exclaimed Mrs, Grey, as she held out her hand hypocritically to welcome them, as if they had come from a long journey, instead of from the upper rooms of the mansion. "The three Graces!" "And Venus I The group is complete!" added Alden gallantly. "Really, Alden, you have grown to be quite a court- ier," said Laura. "Since I have been at this Court of Beauty, yes," re- torted the young man. page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] 314 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. And so they chattered away, with all the gayety of youthful spirits. Mrs. Grey drew on one side and looked thoughtfully out of the front bay-window, seeming to contemplate the snow-covered ground and the snow-crowned evergreens that adorned the front lawn; but in reality she was think- ing of the false position into which her double-dealing had brought her. ['Im in a fix now," she thought. She always thought in slang. "I'm in a deuce of a fix now; but I reckon I'm clever enough to get out of it. I must go now and smooth down the rumpled feathers of my old bird. But I must have some excuse for intruding on him in his study. I must not let him think that I have come to make an expla- nation or an apology for the scene he witnessed, or even that I suppose there is anything to explain or apologize for. Let me see. Let me see. Oh, I have it! I'll pretend I want to borrow the little close carriage to--let me see now, oh, yes?-to visit a poor family whom I wish to relieve! That's it." And with these thoughts Mrs. Grey slipped from the room. Meanwhile Charles Cavendish, with his arms folded and his fine head bowed upon his ample' chest, walked slowly and thoughtfully away to his library and sank down into his study chair, dropped his head upon -his open hands and sighed heavily. A blow like death had fallen on him, "I have been a fool in my age, and am properly pun- ished. I over sixty, and she under twenty! It was folly to love her, and madness to hope that she might love me in return. Oh, life! oh age! that leaves us the anguish of loving, while it takes away the power of winning love!" He bowed his head upon his hand, and groaned. There was a light tap at the door. ENCHANTRESS AND ENCHANTED. 315 He looked up and listened, wheeled his chair around so that his back was against the lighted window and his face on its shadow; for he would not have any visitor see the agitated state of his countenance. Then with an effort to steady his voice, he said: "Come in." v CHAPTER L. ENCHANTRESS AND ENCHANTED. You know so ill to deal with time, You needs must play such pranks as these. TEaLsoxN., THE door opened and Mary Grey floated gracefully into theroom, and in the most childlike and confiding manner drew a low chair and seated herself near him. He was profoundly shaken by her unexpected presence, in his present state of mind. He could not speak. It took all the force of his soul only to keep still. She spoke in a sweet, truthful tone, looking up in his face with her bewildering smile. Luckily his face was in the shadow. She could not see its agonized workings. ( Will you do me a little favor?" she asked. Still he could not speak. He could only keep down his rising anguish as he gazed on her beautiful, treacherous smile. "Will you lend me your little close brougham for an hour? I, who am nothing but a beggar myself, have to go to see a family of beggars whom I have promised to help to-day. And it is so cold and the snow is so deep, that I dread to expose myself. You know what a poor, shivering soul I am. I cannot stand the cold. So I would like to page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] 316 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. borrow your comfortable carriage for an hour. Please, will you lend it to me?" she coaxed. While she had been speaking, Mr. Cavendish had had time, in some degree, to recover himself- and answer her, though in a broken and faltering voice. "Yes, my child; yes, my tender flower! Heaven forbid that you should be exposed to the weather in your chari- table missions. Command my brougham. Command my purse, too. -- Both are at your service for the benefit of your poor." "Oh, thanks I thanks! I knew you would say that! like your noble self!" she exclaimed with childlike eagerness, as she caught and kissed his hand. He shuddered and gently withdrew it, and said: "But, May, dear, I would like to speak with you for a few minutes. Is there any immediate hurry about this- charitable mission of yours?" "Oh, no; not for an hour or two," she answered sweetly. "In fact, the appointment was for the after- noon," she added, smiling frankly, though every word she spoke was false. There was a pause, during which she looked up in his face with an expression of innocent expectation on hers, while he passed his hand once or twice over his corrugated brow, in troubled thought, and then he laid the same hand in benediction upon her beautiful head, and murmured: "May, my child, I was an unwilling witness for an instant, to a little scene in the drawing-room this morning." He paused and sighed profoundly, while she looked up at him in surprise and expectancy, for it was no part of her policy to let him know that she knew of his entrance into the drawing-room at the critical moment of which he spoke. "May," he continued, "I witnessed that little scene under circumstances that rendered it peculiarly painful to ENCHANTRESS AND ENCHANTED. 317 me. You saw the notice in this morning's Standard con- cerning you and myself?" Mary Grey bowed slowly, and then dropped-her head and blushed, or pretended to blush. "Dear child, I wish, if it had been Heaven's will, it could have been true. Yes; and I so longed that it might be true, that I went down to the drawing-room this morn- ing to entreat you, May, to make it true!" She bowed her head slowly again and again. And then she softly slipped her hand in his. He pressed the little soft hand once, and then relin- quished it, as he continued: "For I had dared to love you! dared even to hope for a return of love! Yes, May! I, a veteran of sixty years, with gray hair, and a grown daughter, dared to love you and to hope that you in all your youth and beauty might possibly return my love! It was folly and pre- sumption." "No, no," she murmured in tender tones-"Not so! Not so I! It was a great honor intended me!" He shook his head, with a melancholy smile. "Folly and presumption, my child!-folly and presump- tion; of which I became convinced as soon as my eyes were opened, by witnessing the scene I saw in the drawing- room this morning," he added, with a heavy sigh. She looked up at him with an expression of childlike curiosity and interest, as if she did not quite understand him, but wished very much to do so. "I went down, as I told you, my child, with the inten- tion of asking you then and there to be my wife, madly hoping to transplant you, you beautiful exotic flower! to the wintry garden of my life, to be the pride and delight of my declining years." Again she slipped her hand in his, and poured a whole page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] O10 A jiAA Ui ' i 'UL f ' N D.. F- flood of love and veneration from the glory of the dark eyes that she lifted to his face. Again he pressed the little soft hand and dropped it, his bosom heaving with suppressed emotion as he did so. "But I saw there at your feet a lover, young, handsome, enthusiastic I POne personally, morally and mentally worthy of your love." Again deep sighs shook his frame. But this time she not only slipped her hand in his, but held his hand fast between her own, and gazed in his face with well-feigned amazement, as she said :- "Why, what do you mean?" "No blame to you at least, sweet child. No, nor to him either. It was perfectly natural, right and proper that he should love you, and that you should return' his love. You are both young, both beautiful, both poetic. It is inevitable that you should love." "Oh, but indeed you were mistaken!" she exclaimed with fervor, clasping his hand within her own. "Don't do that, dear child. It is--too trying!"' he said in a choking voice, as he withdrew his fingers from her clinging clasp. "But you were mistaken," she exclaimed, opening wide her dark eyes. "I know I was mistaken, dear May," he said, misappre- hending her meaning. "I know I was bitterly mistaken in supposing that your kind, gentle conduct toward me meant anything more than friendship and benevolence. It was madness in me to mistake it for a return of the deep love I bore you. Do not think I blame you in the least degree, fair child. I thank you, and shall ever thank you, for your goodness and loveliness, that have made the last few weeks of my life so happy; for it was no fault of yours, sweet one, that they led me into an egregious error." ENOHRANTRESS AND ENCHANTED. 319 "Oh, dear! you won't understand me!" she breathed resignedly. "Dear child, I do understand you! I understand and approve you. And, as I cannot be your husband, I must be your father," he said, laying his hand as if in blessing upon her bowed head. She dropped her face into her open hands, and seemed to sob. "Do not grieve for me. Lis ien to me. Thfe young man who seeks your hand is quite worthy of your love. I would willingly accept him as my son-in-law, the husband of my only daughter, did he and Emma love each other. But they do not; so there is an end." Mary Grey shook her head and sobbed. "Don't grieve. Hear what further I have to say. -It may be years before Alden Lytton is in a position to marry. But I thank Heaven that I have it yet in my power to shorten the term of his probation, by putting him into some honorable and lucrative Government office, which will ena- ble him to marry and settle. And thus, dear child, if I can- not make you my wife, I can at least have the privilege of making you happy as the wife of your chosen lover." "BUT I HAVE NO LOVER!" she exclaimed passionately, as she raised her face, flushed and tearful, like a red rose sprinkled with morning dew. "Ah " he breathed, in a half-suppressed, hushed tone, as if he could scarcely believe but that he was dreaming, and was afraid of waking himself up. "I HAVE NO LOVER," she repeated, with as much energy - as before. "May! Mayi for Heaven's sake say that yet once more!" he entreated, breathing hard. "I have no lover but yau! Oh, dear and honored friend, how could you so mistake 'May?' May has no page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] 320 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. other lover but you. She knows no other love but yours. She knows that you love her, and she has known it from the first. And she is proud, happy, yes, delighted in this love!" And she laid both her hands in his. "Come to my heart! You are my wife! my wife! the joy, the comfort, the blessing of my days!" he breathed in deep, hurried, impassioned tones, as be folded her to his bosom. He believed her utterly. He had never doubted her truth, even when he supposed that she loved and was be- loved by Alden Lytton. And now he did not doubt her love. He did not in this happy moment even think of ask- ing an explanation of the scene he had witnessed, which, if it did not mean mutual love between the actors in it, must have seemed quite inexplicable to him. He pressed her to his heart for a moment in silence. And then, as he held her there, he raised his eyes toward heaven, and earnestly thanked the Lord for bestowing upon him in his latter days this great and unexpected happiness. "And now you have not asked me what the silly boy wanted when he was down on his -knees before me," she archly said, as she gently released herself from his embrace. "No; I have not. And he was not making a declara- tion of love to you then?" "Oh, yes, he was, though," she said archly, shaking her head. "I thought you said you had no lover but me-your old foolish one." "Yes, I said that." "But he was making a declaration of love to you!" said Mr. Cavendish, lifting his brows. "How may that, be, lady mine?" ENCHANTRESS AND ENCHANTED. 321 "He was making a declaration of love to me, I said, not for me." "Ah! those little pronouns make the greatest deal of difference. With whom, I pray you, is the ingenuous youth in love? I am so happy now, dear May,. that I will still help him to a wife, if he wants one." "Can you not guess? Oh, you did guess long ago, only the absurd scene of this morning being the mystery to which you had not the right key, threw you off the true scent. You even foretold this, and Ifeared it." "Ah! I know now. He has lost his foolish boy's heart to my girl?" said Mr. Cavendish, smiling. Mary Grey nodded. "And doubtless he was begging your intercession with me to favor his suit?" She nodded again. "Silly fellow! Did he take me for the conventional cruel parent' of the comedies?" "Yes." The Governor laughed outright, in the glee of his heart; "I am so happy now, that even if I had ever had any objections to that match, I should waive that objection. I could not have the heart to make two young lovers mis- erable, being myself so blessed in your love. 'But how does tEmma like the young man?" "I do not think she cares for him at all." "Oh, she ismtoo young to think of marriage yet. But when the proper time shall come, I think; she might do worse than except this young man. He positively lacks nothing but money, and she, I thank Heaven, will have a sufficiency of that." "Will you hear a woman's counsel on tfis?" "Certainly, my love, I will hear yours." "Then I advise you, since you do not disapprove the 20 page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] 322 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. suitor, not to notice the suit in any way. I think--but it is only a woman's thought-that interference in these mat- ters is always injudicious." "But, my dearest, since he has asked you to intercede for my favor of his suit, I wish at least to express my ap- proval of it." "Express it through me. Let me hint to him that his pretensions will not be frowned upon by you, and leave the rest to Providence." "Quite'right. And now, my darling, I have but a few words more to say to you on this subject. He asked you to intercede for my favor of his suit, and you have done so. And I have authorized you to convey to him my approval. This is all very well. But, May, my darling, I trust that he has not asked you to try to influence Emma in his favor." "Oh, no, he has not done that. Nor should I have consented to do such a thing." "Certainly not. Such a course would have been very wrong. My girl must remain uninfluenced in her choice. No young woman should be persuaded into marriage by any one except the man who wishes to marry her; else she might be led to marry one whom she could not love." ( I feel that. I shall be very careful not even to praise the young fellow in Emma's presence." "That is right. Leave her unbiassed and perfectly free. And now, my darling, it is very, very sweet to have you here; but I fear that I am selfishy keeping you from that charitable mission upon which your heart is so set. Here, my child; you must let me contribute to aid your poor," said Mr. Cavendish, as he put a well-filled purse in her hands. "Oh, thanks! thanks in the name of the widow and the orphan, the aged and the sick!" warmly replied Mary MRS. GREY'S CHARITIES. 323 Grey, as she received the purse and put it in her pocket. Then she performed a voluntary on his speaking organ. She stooped and kissed him. CHAPTER LI. MRS. GREY'S CHARITIES. M\/-ARY GREY hurried to her room, took the purse from her pocket and greedily counted the money, for money was very scarce with her, and she loved it with more than a miser's love-she loved it with a pauper prod. igal's love I "One hundred and ninety-eight dollars! Oh! Ah Here is a splendid stroke of business made by accident, for I never designed this, though it is a first-rate hint for future operations. Oh, my poor! Oh, my widows and orphans, my sick and aged, my maimed and blind of the city, whom I have never seen, and never mean to see, you will tax other people, but you will be a princely revenue to me I When I want a set of pearls or point lace or sables, a silk dress or a Cashmere shawl or a French bon- net, I have only to get up a poor widow with eleven small children, or a motherless and fatherless family, with a blind grandmother, all down with the fever, or a sick mechanic out 6f work, about to be turned into the street with his family because he can't pay his rent, or some horror of that sort, and I shall have all the funds I need for their relief and-my adornment," she said exultingly. She counted the money over again, to be sure that she had counted right. And then she-joyfully exclaimed: page: 324-325[View Page 324-325] 4 A BEA UTIFUL FIEND. "Now I can buy that rich set of pearls at Senzeneye's! They were two hundred dollars, but he told me I could have them, as it was after Christmas, for one hundred and ninety-five. I will get them this very evening; for oh! I am so tired of wearing jet, jet, jet, all the while. And though it is real Whithy, it does look so much like dollar jewelry as to disgust me. And pearl will look lovely with my second mourning. I hope Senzeneye has not sold the beautiful set. I will go at once and see." And she rang the bell and ordered the brougham to be at the door in half an hour. Then she dressed herself for her drive and went down stairs, entered the carriage, and drove off. "Why, where is Mrs. Grey going-alone?" inquired Emma Cavendish of her companions, who were all with herself looking from the front bay-window of the parlor. No one could inform her. "She is going on an errand of mercy. Therefore she goes alone. She 'let's not her left hand know what her right hand does,' " answered the Governor, who had silent- ly entered the room and overheard the question. The girls looked around with faces that betrayed some little incredulity; but they said nothing. Meantime you may depend on it Mary Grey went on no errand of mercy. She ordered the coachman to drive her to Senzeneye's, the great jeweller on Main street. And there she purchased the beautiful set of pearls, consisting of ear-drops, brooch and bracelet, for which she gave little less than two hundred dollars, though now they could scarcely be. bought for twice the sum. Then, to de- ceive the coachman, lest he should possibly be questioned, she drove to a poor quarter of the city, and left the carriage and ostentatiously entered two or three hovels, at each of which she gave a few pence to the poor children. At MRS. GREY'S CHARITIES. 325 length she reentered the carriage, saying with a sigh to the coachman, who let down the steps: "Jerome, how distressing to see so much poverty I Oh, how I wish I was rich enough to relieve it all." "Yes, Miss, sartainly," Jerome answered, touching his hat as he closed the door on her and remounted his box, doubtless thinking to himself, "Miss Mary is an angel sure enough." Jerome, called the childlike widow "Miss." He scarcely recognized her as a grown-up woman, still less as a matron and a widow. Soon as Mrs. Grey was reseated in the brougham, she opened her casket and began to gloat over her pearls. "Oh, how exquisitely beautifl they are!' she said, actually pressing them to her lips and bosom. "'How lovely I shall look in them! I shall wear 'them this very evening. But oh, what will the girls think? Even if they should be too -polite to ask questions, how they will won- der and speculate as to how I could manage to get them. I must make up some story. Oh, I will tell them I sacri- ficed an old diamond ring that had been an- heir-loom in my family, but which was too large and old-fashioned for me, and so on," she mused, as the carriage rolled on toward the Government House. That night the young ladies, attended by Mrs. Grey, and escorted by Mr. Cavendish and Mr. Alden Lytton, went out to see the New-year's pantomime. Mrs. Grey wore her beautiful pearls; but as her head was muffled in a swan's-down operas hood, it was -not' until they had all reached their private box, and had taken their seats and laid off their opera cloaks anthoods, that she had the pleasure of displaying her new treasures to the admir- ing eyes of her young friends. They glanced at her and page: 326-327[View Page 326-327] 326 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. her new ornaments with as much surprise as good breed- ing would permit them to betray. And how she enjoyed their wonder! until at length the curtain rose, and all were soon engaged in watching the gro- tesque humors of the pantomime. After they had all got home that night, and had par- taken of a light supper, and ascended to their bedroom floor, Mrs. Grey said laughingly: "I saw you all looking at my beautiful pearls. Now don't you wish you knew how I got them? What will you give me to tell you?" "I won't give anything, because I know already. Gov- ernor Cavendish made you a present of them! Pearls are the very things for a gentleman to give to his betrothed," said Electra bluntly. "Indeed, no! You are very much mistaken, my little love! Governor Cavendish knows no more where I got these pearls than you do. Guess again." "Indeed I can't. You didn't steal them?" Every one laughed at tmis saucy jest which, though they did not know it, came so near the truth. But Mrs. Grey replied -good-humoredly: "No, dear, I didn't steal them. What do you think, Miss Cavendish?" she inquired, turning with a smile to Emma. "I did think they were presents to you from papa. But since you say they are not, I cannot tell what I think." "And, you, Laura, will you hazard a guess as to how I got these jewels?" she ventured to ask of Miss Lytton. "No, Madam; for I am not in the detective business," roughly replied the lawyer's daughter. "So you all give it up? Well, then, I will tell you. I Sacrificed my grandmother's diamond ring! I dare say it was worth double the price of these pearls; but the dia- ,) NEW ARRANGEMENTS. 327 monds needed to be recut and reset, and to have that done would have cost a great deal of money, and after all it would only have been a ring. And now you see I have in its place a full set of the most beautiful pearls," said Mrs; Grey, telling a falsehood so plausible that she herself half believed it. "But I would not have parted with my grandmother's ring if I had been in your place, Mrs. Grey," said Emma Cavendish gravely. "Ithink it was a good exchange," put in Electra. Laura shrugged her shoulders and said nothing, and so they bade each other good-night. CHAPTER LII. NEW ARRANGEMENTS FHE Christmas holidays were drawing to a close. The gay young party was soon to break up. Alden Lytton was the first to depart. tHe was required to be at his college on the Monday after New-year. So, after securing a private interview with Mary Grey, and taking a very tender leave of his false love, in which the most impassioned and solemn vows of eternal fidelity to each other were mutually given and received, and prom- ises of frequent and punctual epistolary correspondence exchanged, he bade adieu to the Governor's hospitable family, kissed his sister, and departed. The young ladies were not required to be at their boarding-school until the fifteenth of January, when the new term would open. page: 328-329[View Page 328-329] 328 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. They had therefore about ten days longer of grace, in which to enjoy the hospitality of the Government House and the pleasures of the city. As, however, the days passed, Governor Cavendish grew very uneasyat the approaching separation of himself. and his " darling May." He even urged her to resign her situation in the board- ing-school, and make him happy by naming an early day for their union. But as she felt quite sure of her conquest, she played ,coy. She put him olf. She told him that two years must really elapse from the time of her late husband's death be- fore she could with propriety marry again. In the spring the second year would be completed. And after that she would name an .early day for the marriage. This "propriety" was her ostensible reason for the delay. But to have a longer time for a sentimental flirtation and correspondence with Alden Lytton was her real reason. Her suitor was forced to submit, although he expostu- lated with her on the unreason and unkindness of her fiat; setting before her the fact that he himself was no longer a youth, with a long time before him, but a man in-the de- cline of life, who at most had not very many years to live and enjoy the society of his young wife. And for all this she expressed her sorrow and sympathy with tears and with kisses. But notwithstanding, she re- mained fim in her decision. And she wrote to Alden Lytton every day, and every day she received a letter from him. Governor Cavendish dreaded the time of separation as it drew nearer. The last day came at length. It was Friday. They were to leave Richmond on Saturday morning, so as to be at Mount Ascension for the opening of the school on ,+ NEW ARRANGEMENTS. 329 Monday. Their trunks were all packed and ready.- And on this Friday morning they were all going out in the open barouche to make some parting calls upon their friends, and also to do a little last shopping in the city. Up to this time they had had very fine weather. And this morning also the sky was clear. Emrnma Cavendish was standing before her dressing- glass, tying on her hat, when something likea white cloth passed between the window and the sunshine so suddenly that Fimma turned to see what it could be. It was snow. Emma could scarcely believe her eyes. A moment before, the sky had been bright with sun- shine. Now it was snohwing fast. So suddenly did the greatest snow-storm of this century arise. "It will soon be over," said she, as she laid her- hat off and went down stairs into the drawing-room, where her companions, all ready for their drive, were waiting for her. "Emma, dear, the barouche has been at the door these ten minutes," said Mrs. Grey. "It is snowing. We shall have to wait a few minutes until it is over," said Miss Cavendish. "Snowing!' exclaimed all the girls, in chorus. "Come to the window and see," said Emrnma, as she went and drew aside the rich crimson velvet curtains of the bay-window; and bade her companions look. It was snowing faster than ever, now. "I never knew a snow-storm to rise so suddenly in a clear sky before. But it cannot last long. We shall have to wait until it is over, however." ' "What a bore!" said Electra. "I wonder how long we shall have to wait?" inquired Laura page: 330-331[View Page 330-331] 330 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Oh, not long; twenty minutes, perhaps. It is only a passing gust of snow," replied their young hostess. And so thought many others besides Emma Cavendish. But they were all mistaken. Faster and faster came down the snow. The girls waited and waited, while the sky thickened and thickened with fast falling snow. At length they reluctantly gave up their drive. The carriage was ordered back to the stable. And they all went up stairt and laid off their hats, mantles and furs' and concluded to spend this last day quietly at home. "If you will each give me lists of what you intended to buy to-day, I will leave them with papa, and he will pur- chase the articles and send them to us. So our shopping will be provided for. And if you will give me your cards I am sure papa will send them around to our friends. So our leave-taking will be accomplished. And upon the whole, all will be right. And "as for myself, I am not sorry that we shall spend this last .day with dear papa,--who seems so very sorry at the thought of losing us," said Miss Cavendish. And all her companions, with more or less sincerity, agreed with her. And but for the thought of to-morrow's parting, this would have been one of the happiest days they had spent at the Government House. But it snowed fast all day. And when night closed in it was still snowing. As this was to be the last night of their stay, they sat up very late, loath to separate. At one o'clock, before bidding each other-a final good- night, Mr. Cavendish openedthe window shutter to look out. It was still snowing fast as ever. "This will be a very deep snow, I think," he said, as he close,d the shutter. NEW ARRANGEMENTS. 331 "And who would have thought so this morning, to see how suddenly it came up!"Emma remarked. "We shall have to rise very early in the morning to catch the train; so we'd better retire," observed practical Laura. "Don't be alarmed, dear, Everything is ready, Our trunks are strapped, and brought down into the hall. The breakfast-table is already set. The cook has orders to put breakfast on -the table at seven o'clock. And the coachman has been directed to bring around the close carriage at half-past. So wemay sleep till a quarter to seven-when Sarah has orders to call us-and we can afterward dress in a hurry," said her young hostess. And so discussing the business of the morning they re- tired for the night. And they slept until they were roused up by the loud knocking of Miss Cavendish's own maid Sarah. It was still quite dark. "What sort of a morning it, Sarah?" inquired Emma Cavendish. "I don't know, Miss. None o' the windows an't opened yet; though Jeemes is just unbarrin' o' the breakfas' room uns," answered the girl, as she lighted the gas in her young mistress' room. The young ladies arose in a hurry, and. dressed in a hurry, and went down stairs to the breakfast-room, where the gas was lighted, and where the early morning meal was already laid upon the table awaiting them. Governor Cavendish came forward to meet them. "Oh, dear papa, I am so sorry you turned out of your bed so early to see us off," said Emma regretfully. "My darling, what else could I do?" he tenderly in- quired. But if the truth must be told, it was not only affection page: 332-333[View Page 332-333] 332 A BEAUT-IFUL FIEND. for his daughter, but passionate love for his "darling May,' that brought him there to see the youthful party off. They all sat down together to breakfast, consulting their watches from time to time, to see how long they might safely linger over it. : At length Laura Lytton consulted her little time- keeper, -and exclaimed: "Dear me! It is twenty minutes to eight o'clock!" "And the carriage was ordered at half-past seven, and it is not yet announced. Papa, dear, the bell is at your elbow," said Fmmna. Mr. Cavendish rang the bell, which quickly brought in the hall footman. "James, see if the carriage is at the door," said his master. : The man bowed, went out, and soon returned with the answer: "No, sir." "Go see why it is not then, and hurry the coachman. The young ladies may miss the train." The man went out a second time, and soon returned, followed by the coachman. "How is this, Jerome? Were you not ordered to have the carriage at the door at half-past seven?" sternly de- :manded his master. "Yes, sir. And please, sir, I were up at six o'clock so to do. But please, sir, the stable and the carriage-house it both snowed up to that extent as I hev a been a tryin' to dig,'em out and open the doors for an hour or more," answered the man. "Good Heavens I and it is now nearly eight o'clock!. The young ladies will miss the train! exclaimed Mr. Cavendish. "If you sho scuse me for saying of it, sir, I don't think THE BRIDE ELECT. 333 no young ladies can't go on no train, not this morning," answered the old servant, negativing the journey in the most emphatic manner., "Why not? What's the matter? Is the snow so deep? Is it still snowing?" "It's a most: awful day, sir. Far's we can see--'cause it's a wery dark morning-the snow is wery deep indeed, and it keeps on snowing." Governor Cavendish arose and with great clifficulty forced open the window shutters. It was an awful day. By the time, it should have been daylight. But it was not. Thick clouds and fast falling snow obscured the morning. He closed the window, and turned to his young people, who, all well wrapped up for their journey, stood' waiting in suspense. "It is: all over 'for to-day, my dears. I doubt if the train itself can :go to-day; and I know that you cannot," he said. -' , t And the young ladies saw that for his part he was very glad. CHAPTER LIII. T'-TE BRIDE] ELECT. Her form had all the softness of her sex, Her features all the sweetness of the devil When he put on the cherub to perplex Eve and pave the road-to evil. BYRON. ( C TyTES, you will have to stay where you aret for the -L present, my dears. I doubt even if the train can go in such weather as this," said the Governor. page: 334-335[View Page 334-335] 334 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. A Perhaps no one of the youthful party was much disap- pointed. Most likely all were very well pleased to be obliged to remain in the city for a few days longer. One person was delighted; and that one was Governor Cavendish; for he had a respite from the dreaded pain of parting with his beautiful love. His voice was quite brisk and cheery as he turned to the footman and inquired: "Jerome, is there a fire in the drawing-room?" "Yes, sir," answered the man. "But the windows an't open yet, and the gas is burning, sir." "Go then and open the windows. Let us see the day- light, such as it is. Come, young ladies. We will go to the drawing-room," said Mr. Cavendish, leading the way. The young people followed him to the front parlor, and began to take off their hats and furs, while the servant opened the shutters. "Now, Jerome, take all these articles up stairs, and give them to my maid to put away," said Miss Cavendish, pointing to the hats, shawls, furs and so forth, that had just been laid off and piled upon a pier-table by herself and her friends. The man bowed, gathered them up, and walked off with his arms full. Mr. Cavendish and his young people crowded into the recess of the bayswindow to look out upon the weather. What weather! It was broad daylight now, but nothing could be seen but thickly falling snow. It was no use to look out--not a vestige of anything else was visible. They turned away from the window and looked into each other's faces. "No matter," said the Governor, in a cheery voice. "We must reconcile ourselves to the inevitable. By pres- ent appearances the roads will not be in a passable con- THE BRIDE ELECT. 335 dition for many days to come; so you will have to remain here with me for a week longer at least. But take courage; for though the country roads may be impracticable for young travellers, yet the city streets will soon be in a fine condition for sleighing." Oh, 'nm content! I wouldn't mind being snowed up in such a nice house as this all winter!" said Electra frankly. "Thank you, my dear," replied the master of the house, patting her head approvingly. "Our very early breakfast will make a long morning for us. And the gloomy weather will make it still longer. But we must try to devise some way of passing the time usefully and agreeably," said Emma Cavendish to her young guests. "I think we might amuse ourselves, Penelope like, by undoing to-day what we did yesterday," said practical Laura Lytton. "How, my love?" inquired Mrs. Grey. "By unpacking the trunks we packed -up to be sure. We can't live in trunks two or three days,- or a week, can we?" "Certainly not. .Your idea is a good one, my dear. I will order the trunks taken up to our rooms immediately," said Miss Cavendish, reaching her hand to the bell. Jerome appeared, and received the necessary directions. And in another .hour the young people were busy un- backing their trunks, and restoring their dresses and other girlish finery to wardrobes and bureau drawers. Then they took their work-baskets, with crochet or embroidery, and went down into the parlor where Gov- ernor Cavendish was walking up and down the floor in a very restless condition, for the want of hi-z morning paper, which the terrible state of the weather had prevented the earrier from bringing. page: 336-337[View Page 336-337] O00 a A BEAUT I FU L F IEi N D. "' Chaos is come again!" he said, in comical distress, referringWto his loss. "Snow-bound-in a city house supplied with every means and appliance of comfort and entertainment, and grumbling and growling as if we were ice-bound in, Behrings Straitsl Oh, papa, how -can you?" said LEmma gayly. "But the Morning Star, my dear!" "Oh, it will rise in due time, never fear." "The sturdy little carrier will not neglect his duty on account of weather, you may depend,"- added Laura Lytton. But they were all mistaken. The snow continued to fall as fast as ever all that day, and all the next night. And toward the morning of the third day, which was the. Sabbath, the snow was reported three feet deep on a level. But about' ten o'clock, at the same hour at which the snow commenced on Friday, it ceased on Sunday. And the wind changed, and' blew a gale from the north-west, and drifted the snow " mountains high," as the people said. Everybody was snow-bound in their houses for several days. Then the wind changed to the south, and there came a mighty thaw, and streets ran like rivers:until the snow was gone, and then they looked like great mud gut- ters. They had had three days of steadily falling snow, that had covered the ground three feet deep; then a three days' gale of wind, that had drifted the snow into mountains and valleys where mountains and valleys had never been seen before; and finally three days of warm sunshine that turned the' streets into canals. In all it was about ten days that some travvl?-was interrupted and much business im- peded. I' During this tfis the family at the Government House amused themselves as well as they could. During the THE BR IDE ELuENT. 337 three days of gale and drifting snow they were obliged to stay in the house, Ithe young people occupying themselves with a little crochet, embroidery, music, drawing, reading or writing; and the Governor with, his books and papers, and more than all, with his "beaut'ful love," as he chlled Mary Grey. The time did not hang heavily on his hands. Mrs. Grey made it so light indeed, that Mr. Cavendish wished it might last forever, During the thaw they went out daily, in the carriage or on foot. And they received several visits. About the tenth day since thestorm, when the ground had dried a little, there was some talk of starting again upon their interrupted journey. Mrs. Grey wrote to Mrs. St. John, the principal of Mount Ascension, to explain to her, what no doubt she understood well enough without such an explanation,::the reason why she and the young people under her charge failed to return to the school atthe commencement of the term, and promisingto start on their journey as soon as the state of the roads would make travelling safe. "And then, at last,. must lose you, darling!" sighed her ilover, when he heard from her that this letter had beene sent., ,She pressed his and in eloquent silence. And that wasall the answer she made. "I thank Heaven for that snow-storm that bound you here, and gave me your dear company for a fortnight longer than I could have ioped for such happiness. And, oh, how I wish that something as unexpected would occur to prevent you from ever leaving me!" e said. She smiled on him and. shook her,h silenee. She was a great believer inm" golden sileially when she could not think of anything veryri to say t - Ah, yes, if something would only happen to keep you page: 338-339[View Page 338-339] 338 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. I 'here with me I " he repeated with a sigh. "If I were very ill, would you stay with me then, May!" "Yes, indeed I would," she answered earnestly. "Then I wish I were very ill. Ah, yes, child, what a fool I am in my love for you I For I think that illness, or any affliction, would be better then a separation from you." CHAPTERK LIV. A LirEBR AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. TT seemed as though Governor Cavendish's expressed wish, that something to prevent Mrs. Grey from leav- ing his house, was prophetic. Something did happen. Three days fitom that on which Mary Grey had written to Mrs. St. John, a batch of letters arrived from Mount Ascension. There was one from Mrs. St. John to each of her absent pupils, expressing regret that they had been pre- vented by the storm from returning to school at the ap- pointed time, and a hope that she should soon see their faces. There was not one word in either of these letters addressed to the young ladies, that referred in the least de- gree to Mrs. Grey-a circumstance at which they wonder- ed, until they learned that Mrs. Grey herself had received a letter, Yes, Mrs. Grey had received a letter, whose very first words turned her cheeks to an ashen pallor, as she hastily arose from her seat in the parlor and retreated to her own room to read it unobserved by any. The young ladies, absorbed in the perusal of their own letters, did not observe her agitated retreat. When she found herself alone in the privacy of her A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 339 chamber, she carefully locked the door and then sat down to read the fatal letter through. It ran thus: "MOUNT ASCENSION, Va., January 25th, 18,-. "Mrs. Mary Grey.--Madam: I address you by the name you have lately assumed, although I know now that it is not your real name, and also that you are not a widow, and have never been a wife. "The facts of your real history have come to my knowledge in a manner that leaves no possibility -of doubt in respect to them upon my mind. "I forbear to express the pain and shame and just in- dignation I have felt in having discovered the gross de- ception put upon me, and the affront offered to the young ladies of my establishment, by your presence among them. "I forbear also to expose your past life to the knowl- edge of others. Redeemt that life,) if you can. But you must know tha I can never again receive you under the honorable r that shelters the good young maidenhood of my s bool. I will not, however, dismiss you without full compensation for the whole year for which you were engaged. You will find enclosed a check for the amount of your salary for the period named. Take it, with my sincere -forgiveness and good wishes, and try to redeem your life. FTZTARETH ST. JOHN." "Ha, ha I ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!" bitterly laughed Mary Grey, in hysterical excitement, as she threw the letter down and ground it under her feet. "The mocking old hag! ' Redeem my 'life ' Am I not trying to redeem my life, when she sends this cruel, cutting, hypocritical, insulting letter to strike me down by despair to, destruc- tion! Suppose this letter had by-any chance fallen into any other hands but mine? Suppose it had fallen into his hands? Nothing but death would have been left me- death by my own hands-for I would not-have lived humbled in his eyes! -Stop! I must destroy this venomous letter before it can hurt me any more!" she said, catching up the obnoxious paper, tearing it to pieces, and putting page: 340-341[View Page 340-341] 340 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. 'it into tne fire, where she watched it until every atom was burnt to ashes. Then she began ,to walk restlessly up and down the floor, fretting like an irritated tigress in her cage. "'What shall I do now'? What shall aI do? I cannot go back there'l Shall I drop a line to my young lover, who would leave his college -and marry me to-morrow, if I would let him? Or shall I give a hint to my old lover, who would wed me to-day, if he ,could? N;either of them need ever know how dishonorably I have been discharged! For that 61d wretch has at least promised that she will not expose me to others. "So, shall I write and recall my young lover? ":No, no, no; I love him better than all on earth! I love him only of all on earth, but I cannot face poverty even with himl I mean to marry him some day, but not while he is poor and I ampoor! I must be a rich young widow, and he a rising young lawyer, before we can af- 'ford to marry! "Shall I drop a hint to my aged adorer'? i Ah, yes; I fear I must do that - But how account to him for my change of purpose? I can never confess to him that:I have been shamefully dismissed from the school, like a dishonest servant from her place I "Let-me see! - Het me see! There must be some way out of this difficulty, and I must find it," -she said, walking slowly up and down the room. So she walked and .thought, and walked and thought, until, she had worked out her plan. Then she sat down and opened her little writing-desk, selected some plain note paper, and fitted it cross-wise to -the empty stamped and post-marked envelope of Mrs. St. John's letter. Then with her wonderful talent for fac-simile copying) A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 341 she wrote another letter, purporting to be from Mrs.: St. John to herself, with a perfect imitation of that lady's handwriting. The forged letter ran as follows: "MOWT ASCENSION, Va., January 25th, 18-. "1MY DEAREST MRS. GREY: I received yours of the 21st, explaining the reason why you and the young ladies under your charge did not return in time for, the opening of the new school term. "Of course I knew that the delay was caused by no fault of yours. Indeed I have never, during the time of our mutual and very agreeable engagement, had the slight- est cause to find fault with you. I wish I could say as much for all my young assistant teachers. And the perfect satisfaction you have given me makes it all the more diffi- cult for me to write what I am now-compelled to commu- nicate. In a word, my dear young friend, I am reluctantly obliged to part with you. My school is not so flburishing as it promised to be. Many of my pupils have failed to return this term. My expenses are very heavy. It is ab- solutely necessary that I should retrench them in order to avoid positive bankruptcy. And thus you see, my dear and highly esteemed young friend, that being no longer able to pay your salary, I am forced to relieve you of your duties. Call on me promptly, if I can aid you in procuring a new engagement; and believe me ever, my dearest Mrs. Grey, your sincere friend, E RLTZARETH ST. JOHN." "That will do," said Mary Grey, with a rather grim smile on her lovely lips, as she critically examined her work and folded it, and slipped it into Mrs. St. John's empty envelope. "That will do," she repeated- "that real envelope, directed in her own handwriting, and post-marked and stamped quite regularly, will lend a reality to the enclosed letter that will place it beyond question." And so saying, she arose and bathed her face and smoothed her hair, and made herself look as pretty as pos' sible, to go down and talk with her old lover, . . . page: 342-343[View Page 342-343] 342 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. She could not find him in the drawing-room. No one but the young ladies were there, chattering over their let. ters. She left them, and went up to the door of the Gov- ernor's study and rapped softly. He opened the door, and welcomed her with smiling face and loving words and outstretched hands. "I knew it was you, my angel visitant," he said, draw- ing her into the room, and seating her in an easy chair. "What is your sweet will with me?" "Oh dear, I am in trouble," she answered, putting up her lips like a grieved child. "In trouble, darling? What trouble can you be in that I cannot free you from? Tell me!" he said, seating him- self beside her and taking her hand, and gazing on her with every expression of sympathy and encouragement. "Oh dear, H- It is very mortifying to confess it, but I am a servant out of place," replied the beauty, with a pretty pout of childish distress. "A servant out of place, my angel! Whatever do you mean?" inquired the perplexed Governor. "Oh dear! I mean what I say. It is too true! I am a discharged servant. For no fault of my own, however. Can bring good recommendations from my last place," said Mrs. Grey, with a pretty, childish blending of fretful- ness and fun in her manner. "My dearest Mary! Will you tell me what you are talking about? For really I do -not understand your trouble," said the bewildered Governor. "Haven't I explained it by saying that I, am a female domestic out of a situation? But read this letter. This will explain my explanation," said Mrs. Grey, putting the forged letter into the hands of her lover. Mr. Cavendish examined the genuine envelope first, as she knew he naturally would. A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 343 "Ah! from Mount Ascension!" he said. "In answer, I suppose, to your letter of Monday?" "Yes," she answered, with a nod. He unfolded the letter and read it through, without a word. Then he quietly refolded it, replaced it in the en- velope, laid it on the table, and opened his arms, saying: "Come to me! Come to me, my darling! Here is your resting-place Here is your home I Do not hesitate longer, dearest May, to give me at once the legal right to protect you. Come to my heart, as Noah's weary dove to her ark." And he drew her to his bosom. She dropped her head upon his shoulder and burst into tears-tears of self-pity only, and not of affection or of gratitude. When she hadsobbed herself into comparative quiet- ness, she resumed her seat and said: "I must find some temporary home." "Your home is here. You shall not leave it with my consent," he answered earnestly. "But, dear friend, you know it would not be proper for me to remain here, after the young ladies shall have all left me and returned to school." "But they shall not all leave you, my poor darling. My daughter shall remain with you. I will write to Mrs. St. John and forward the fe&r. her board and tuition for the coming term, so that there be no pecuniary disappoint- ment; but I shall not forward the young lady," said Mr. CavendiSh. "Oh, no! pray, pray do not make such a sacrifice on my account," pleaded Mrs. Grey, with well assumed humility. "It will be no sacrifice at all. I want my daughter. And--I no longer like or approve Mrs. St. John," said Mr. Cavendish emphatically. page: 344-345[View Page 344-345] 344 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Then, oh! at least please do not mention my name to her at all when you write. She has been a dear friend to me, and I love her. And I would not have her think that I had been, either directly or indirectly, instrumental in depriving her of her favorite pupil-for indeed, sir, you know that I did not wish to do so," said Mrs. Grey artfully. "I know it, my darling. I know that you are all good- ness and truth. I shall not compromise you with your old friend in any manner. There, dearest, leave it all in my hands. I will write by this mail," he said, as he drew her to his bosom and kissed her. And then she gently released herself and left the room CHAPTER LV. A SURPRISE FOR EMMA. T be frank with you, my reader, I feel rather vexed with Governor Cavendish at this time for suffering his wisdom to be turned into folly by the blandishments of an unprincipled young beauty. But then love, like all other juvenile maladies, goes extrem3ely hard with those of riper years. Perhaps the great statesman was dimly conscious of his littleness in this one respect, from the fact of his extreme reluctance to break his change of plans to his daughter Fimma--that devoted child who was ever ready to make any sacrifice of her own happiness for her father's comfort. He wrote his letter to-Mrs. St. John, enclosing the amount of school fees for the coming term, and politely informing her that he desired to withdraw his daughter from the establishment, not from any dissatisfaction, but , t A SURPRISE FOR EMMA, 34.5 simply from the need he felt of her society at home. Thus he gave the principal of Mount Ascension a very great sur: prise, but not the least offence. Having sealed this letter, he: rang and summoned his own footman. "Take this letter and put it in the post-bag and then ask Miss Cavendish to come to me," he said. A few minutes after the delivery of this message Emma Cavendish came into the room, looking very lovely in her pure white mering morning dress with the swan's-down trimmings. "Sit down here beside me, dear," said her father, offer- ing the very chair lately occupied by Mary Grey. "You look pale and harassed, dear papa. Are you not well?" inquired his daughter, laying her soft hand upon his corrugated brow. Here was a good opening. "No, my child, I am not well. The cares of State and --other matters trouble me. And I am no longer young, my dear," he answered, with a sigh.- "My dear papa " ste said, with infinite tenderness and sympathy. "FEmma!" "Yes, papa." "How were you getting on with your studies at Mount Ascension, my love?" "Very well, papa." "Is it really a good institution of learning?" "An excellent one, I think, papa; but of course I do notmknow how it compares with others of its kind, never having been at any other." "Were you happy there?" "As happy as I could be anywhere, aWay from -home and you, papa. Yes, I maysay I was happy there." page: 346-347[View Page 346-347] oro A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "And are you very anxious to return?" She looked up into hip face in surprise and perplexity; but she divined his wishes in a moment. "No, indeed, papa. I am not at all anxious to go back, especially if you wish me to stay with you," she answered promptly and heartily. "Thanks, dearest child. I do wish you to stay with me. I am no longer young, and no longer well. And I need you, my daughter," he said pathetically. "And I need you, dear papa. I never did wish to be banished from you; but Aunt Wesley insisted on my going to boarding-school, and you and I yielded to her judgment. But there is really no necessity for my going back, dear papa. I can study quite as well at home," she said cordially. "And you can have as many professors as you like; the best in the city, if you please. And moreover, my daugh- ter, you can have your liberty, which I take it is the great- est boon of all, to young as well as to old." "Yes, dear papa, it really is," smiled Emma. "And you can have your favorite school-mates come and spend their holidays with you just the same." * "Dearest papa!" she said, smiling,- and putting her arm around his neck and kissing him. '"Don't I know that you will do everything in the world that you can to make your spoiled child happy? Haven't you always done so? Haven't you been father and mother, sister and brother, friend and companion and confidant, and all in all to me, ever since I was born? So you needn't promise me any- thing, for I am sure of it all beforehand." Governor Cavendish pressed his daughter to his heart, and sighed heavily; feeling, perhaps, that he was about to turn traitor to all this life-long love and trust by giving her a young step-mother. e A SURPRISE FOR EMMA. 347 "Emma," he said again. "I have something else to tell you, my child." "Yes, papa." "Something that I fear may give you pain." "Papa!" she said, in a quick, low tone. "My child, our conversation on the second of this month may perhaps have prepared you for this communication;" he said hesitatingly. "Papa, I think I understand you. There is some one else besides your daughter who is necessary to complete your happiness," she answered, with an involuntary sigh, as she withdrew herself-from his embrace and resumed her seat. "Yes, my daughter, there is some one else necessary to complete my happiness-just as, in the course- of nature, my beloved Emma, there will be some one else besides your father necessary to complete the circle of your own life's joy. Don't you understand? Don't you understand, my daughter?" "Oh, my dear papa, I understand too well. A lady will come between you and me, papa-a lady who will be nearer and dearer to you than I have ever been. I under- stand that part of your speech, but the other part I do not understand; for no man shall ever come between me and you, papal no love but yours is needful to my happiness," she said, in a voice tremulous with emotion. "My dearest child, you speak from ignorance'and inex- perience. In a year or two, you will tell another tale." "Oh, no, no, papa! never! I will never leave you for any other love. Oh, dear papa, your happiness is dearer to me than anything else in the whole world I But I do not think your happiness will be secured by this contemplatedl marriage. I do not indeed. If I did, I should not so much mind taking the second place in your heart and home; but page: 348-349[View Page 348-349] S48 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. something here," she said, placing her hand upon her heart, "assures me that your happiness and mine will be utterly wrecked in this union." "Emma, why do you say this, my child?" he inquired, in a tone full of pain. "Oh, dear papa, because I know it and feel it in my heart of hearts. The woman is not worthy of you, papa." "Emma, I cannot permit you to speak of that lady in this manner. No, much as I love you, my daughter, I cannot permit you to speak ill of my promised wife," he, said, in a tone of severity such as he had never before used toward his idolized daughter. She started with surprise and pain. And then sudden- ly she threw her arms around his neck, as if she would snatch him away from some imminent peril, and bursting into the tears she could no longer suppress, she cried: "Oh, dearest papa, do not say that! do not say that she is your promised wife! Oh, papa! listen, dear! You are all the world to me. Your comfort is my first and last, my whole thought. Oh, papa, if you will only give up this marriage-which is going to work woe, I feel sure-if you will only give up this marriage, I, on my part, will promise never to marry, or think of marrying; 'never to leave you, or love any other but you; and vow to live an old maid for your sake, and devote all my life to cherish and com- fort yours; yes, and to be very happy in doing such sweet duty. Papa, will you grant me my prayer? Papa, for your own dear sake, as well as for mine, will you grant me my prayer?" "Oh, my dear child, what distress you cause me! you; who profess to love me, and do love me so much! What distress, and even what anguish, you cause me!" groaned the father, covering his face with his hand. "Papa dearest papa! I would save you from trouble . -A SURPRISE FOR EMMAI. 349 and distress. Oh, papa I for the sake of your own dignity, for the sake of your daughter's future, give up this fatal thoughtof marriage," pleaded Emma. And it is but just to her to say, that when she pleaded with her father in the name of his " daughter's future," she did so only because she knew it would be the strongest plea she could possibly use, and not because .she thought about her own interests at all; for truly she thought only of her beloved father's honor and welfare. He remained with his hands over his face, while deep sighs heaved his bosom. At length he answered, in a broken voice: "My dearest child, I would to Heaven I might grant your prayer. But-I cannot. I have gone too far to retract with honor, even if I wished to retract, which I do not. I am bound to this lady in heart, as well as in word. "I am engaged to her and--I could not live without her. So-you see I could not honorably break the marriage off, if I would, and-I would not, if I could. This is final, Emma." - "And fatal I Oh, my dear father," sighed the daughter. "I hope, my dear child, that your prejudice-I will say your natural, your very natural prejudice-against the idea of a step-mother, will not prevent you from treating the lady with due respect," said Mr. Cavendish earnestly. "My dearest -papa, be sure that I shall treat Mrs. Grey always with due respect," replied Miss Cavendish, in a tone and with an accent that did not in the least degree serie to tranquillize her father's troubled mind. Then she kissed him, and arose and inquired: "Is there anything else you want me for, papa?" "No, my dear, sadly responded her father. "Then I will go. Good-by, dear papa," she said, kiss- ing him tenderly. ' ' "Why, my dear, you say ' Good-by,' as if you were page: 350-351[View Page 350-351] 350 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. going very far away from me," he said uneasily, holding heir hand and detaining her by his side. "I am going only to my room; yet I feel as if you had sent me, and I was going very far away from you indeed." "Oh, Emma, Enmma!" "Forgive me, papa; perhaps in time I shall get ovei this feeling. Good-byl" And she kissed him again, and then withdrew herself from his embrace and left the room. She felt the need of going off by herself to give way to the overwhelming grief that filled her bosom. CHAPTER LVI. ' MMA'S FIRST SORROW. SHE went and locked herself in her chamber, fell down upon her bed and wepthitterly. She did not rejoin her young companions until the dinner hour, when her pale face and depressed manner attracted their attention. After dinner they came to her with affectionate inquiries, to all of which Miss Cavend;sh replied evasively. "I am not quite well. I have had a chill." And this was true, in one sense of the word. She, ha6 had a chilli poor girl, and it was none the easier to bear for being a spiritual chill. But they, understanding only a material ague, came around her with expressions of regret and anxiety. And Mrs. Grey put her hand on Emma's shoulder, cooing forth the words:' EMMA'S FIRST SORROW. 351 "My poor darling I She must go to bed, and have some nice spiced-" But Miss Cavendish shrank from her with a look that clearly repelled present, and forbade all future familiarities of that sort. "Something's up in that quarter. Emma snubbed the widow, and won't let her 'gush,'" whispered Electra to Laura Lytton. "I don't wonder," remarked the lawyer's daughter. The next day was Saturday. The young ladies were to return to school on the following Monday. Laura and Electra, who shared the same bed-room, were busy pack- ing their trunks, when Emma Cavendish joined them. "I think we shall have fine weather for our journey this time," said Laura, lifting her head out of her trunk. "I hope you will have," answered Emma. "Hope 'you' will have? What do you mean, Emma? You speak just as if only we were going,"' said Electra. "Only you and Laura are going, I am sorry to say, dear," answered Miss Cavendish.. Electra and Laura stopped packing to gaze at her in silent astonishment. "It is true, my dears. My father says that he needs me at home. So he has written to Mrs. St. John, and perma- nently withdrawn me from the school."' "Oh, I am so sorry! I could sit down and cry!" said Laura. "But why does not Mrs. Grey return?" inquired Electra. "Mrs. Grey will be Mrs. Cavendish within a month from this," said Emma bitterly. The two other young girls looked at the speaker, and then at each other. They had certainly expected this event, but not quite so soon. Then Laura Lytton went page: 352-353[View Page 352-353] Opz i LJ j 1 BEAUTIUN FI . :and threw her arms around Emma Cavendish and burst into tears, exclaiming: "Oh, dmy darling my darling!l I am so sorry for you l What a &calamity " . "There, don't weaken me, Laura, dear I This cannot be helped," said Rmma, extricating herself from her friend's embrace. "And so you are to stay here to keep the betrothed bride in countenance until she is married-for that is the real reason why you are kept .from school, Emma," said Electra. "Yes, I suppose that is the true reason," answered Miss Cavendish. "I like that. That's the funniest part of the whole funny affair, that you should play the Ipart of chaperofito your own step-mother that is to be," laughed Electra. "I came in to tell you this news, dear friends. And now I will leave you /to your packing," said Miss Caven- dish, as she withdrew from the room. "This will almost kill Emmna," said Laura Lytton sadly. "I tell you what Iwould do, if I were you; I would counsel Fmma :to marry the very first, good-looking young man who makes love to her," said Electra. . "Indeed I shall do no such thing I And he would be a very bold young man, I think, who would venture to make v love, as you call it, to Emma Cavendish," said Laura. "Well, then, if I were uEmma, and didn't want to live with my step-mother, and didn't want to marry, I'd-I'd go for a missionary to the heathen, or go on the stage, or something." "Go for a missionary, oFrgo on the stage I How mixed your ideas are, dear Electra!" laughed Laura. And that ended their talk for the time being. EMMA' S FIRST SORROW. 353- While they were locking their trunks Mrs. Grey came sauntering in. She sank gracefully down into a resting chair arid cooed: "Perhaps, my dears, you may not have heard that I do not attend you back to school?" "Yes, Madam, we have heard it," answered Laura Lyt- ton quite curtly. "And we bear it with great fortitude," added Electra, drawing down the corners of her mouth. Mrs. Grey eyed them with a dark look and withdrew fi'om the room, probably resolved that when she should be the mistress of the Cavendish house these impertinent girls should come there no more to spend their Christmas or midsummer holidays. When they had strapped down the lids of their trunks the two girls separated for a while. Electra went down into the drawing-room to practice a song that she wished to sing to Mr. Cavendish that evening. And Laura went to the library to look for writing ma- terial to write to her brother at the University of Virginia, to tell him the news of the week,' and especially that the rumored matrimonial engagement between Governor Cav- endish and Mrs. Grey was now reduced to a certainty; that the engagement had been formally announced to the family and friends of the Governor, and the marriage was to be solemnized in about a month from date-on Shrove Tuesday, in fact-because Mrs. Grey, who was a strict Rit- ualist, would not be married in Lent, and Governor Caven- dish, who was a very ardent and impatient lover, wouldi not wait until after Easter. She added that Mrs. Grey would not return again to her school duties, but would remain a guest at the Govern- ment House, with Emma Cavendish to keep her in counte- nance until the wedding-day. - 22 page: 354-355[View Page 354-355] 354 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. i Laura ended her letter by requesting her brother to ad dress his next letters to her at Mount Ascension, to which she and her schoolmate would return on the following Monday. Laura Lytton sent off her letter by that night's mail, little dreaming what a, terrible storm that news would raise, and what an awful catastrophe it would precipitate upon all their heads. For Laura Lytton had not the slightest suspicion of her brother's fatal passion for that baleful beauty, Mary Grey. Alden Lytton, with the mingled shyness of youth and the superstitious worship of love, had concealed his passion from his sister's knowledge, deeming it too precious and sacred a mystery to be intrusted even to her confidence. Mrs. Grey, for other and more practical reasons, had carefully guarded hersecret. Thus Laura, when she wrote that firebrand of a letter, knew nothing of the magazine of gunpowder into which she threw it. On Monday, according to programme, the young ladies, Laura Lytton and Electra, left the city for Mount Ascen- sion. Emma Cavendish saw them depart with real sorrow, and Mrs. Grey with many hypocritical tears. Governor Cavendish attended them to the railway sta- tion, where they were met by a country clergyman who happened to be travelling in the same direction, and who promised to see the young ladies safe to the end of their journey. The next two days passed very quietly at, the Govern- ment House Miss Cavendish kept her room very closely, appearing in the drawing-room only at meal-times. A TERRIB\LE ENCOUNTER. 355 But ah I she was not even missed by her infatuated father, whose whole heart seemed now taken up by the deadly passion that possessed him. On the third morning from the departure of the girls, Mrs. Grey sat alone in the drawing-room. Miss Cavendish had, as usual, withdrawn to her own, chamber. And Governor Cavendish had reluctantly left his beau- tiful betrothed to go and receive an official visitor. Mrs. Grey was sitting in perfect idleness, oongratula- ting herself on the entire success of her plans, when the violent ringing of the hall bell was followed by the open- ing of the hall door, and then by the opening of the drawing-room door, and the announcement of: "Mr. Alden Lytton to see Mrs. Grey." Mary Grey turned pale, and started to her feet. Alden Lytton, dusty and travel-stained, pale and wild, stood before her l CHAPTER LVII. A TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER. Go I woman of the wily breast; Not I, but you have caused his death.-Basosw. y7ES; pale, wild and dishevelled, with indignation and despair stamped don every lineament of his noble fae, Alden Lytton stood before Mary Grey. She arose in consternation. And the true man and the false woman confronted each other for a moment in silent agony. page: 356-357[View Page 356-357] 356 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Then, trembling and choking with passion, he held out an open letter in his left hand, and dashed his right hand upon it, exclaiming, in a broken voice: "My sister has written to me that you are about to marry Governor Cavendish; that this is no longer a mere newspaper report, but a confessed fact. Laura never told a falsehood in her life; yet I will not believe this unless I hear it confirmed by your own lips. Oh, May, I cannot believe it!" he suddenly cried out, dropping the hand that held the letter, and raising his dark eyes, full of anguish, to her face. While he spoke to her thus-gazed on her thus-she gasped for breath; her color came and went; her bosom rose and fell. She was tremendously agitated, for she loved this handsome, earnest, faithful lover that stood be- fore her-yes, loved him best, him only, of all the human race, and loved him with all the fire and strength of her passionate and perverted heart. She could not answer him. She could only clasp her hands, and raise her eyes to his, and gaze on him imploringly. "Aire you going to marry the millionaire?" he de- manded, in a hurried, gasping voice. And his cheek paled to a still deadlier pallor as he awaited her answer. "Alden--arling!" she panted, and could say no more. "Are you going to marry that man? Answer-yes, or no!" he cried, breathing quickly, and grasping the back of the chair as if for support. 'Alden, dearest! oh, sit down!" she cried. "One word-yes, or no!" "Alden, oh, for Heaven's sake, do not look at me with those terrible eyes! Sit down. Calm yourself." "Yes, or no?" "Oh, my Lord in heaven, what shall I say? Alden, sit down and listen to me." A TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER. 357 "I am listening with all my soul, listening for your answer. But I will not sit down till I hear -it. YES, OR No?" he sternly demanded. She uttered a faint shriek, and covered her eyes with her hands. "Answer!" "Ah, Heaven, you terrify me sol You are very cruel to me, Alden!" she cried. "Are you going to marry that man?" he now fiercely demanded, making a step toward her. She saw that he was in a desperate mood. She had read and heard of men committing murder and suicide in just such a mood. She clasped her hands in wild affright, and sank back nearly fainting in her chair. "It is true then," he whispered, in a tone that thrilled her spirit, and augmented her terror a hundred-fold, Des- peration quickened her wits. "What do you mean?" she gasped. "Have I not told you that I would marry youz2" she said, holding out a white and trembling hand. Her words took him by surprise. He had not expected this. Her silence, her agitation, her evasion, and last of all her terror, had prepared him to hear the confession of her intended marriage that he had seemed determined to extort from her. He could now scarcely believe that he heard aright. He stood stock still, and looked at her. He utter- ed but one word. "May!" She saw her advantage and pursued it, though her face was still pale and her voice still faint. "What do you mean, Alden, by this startling entrance, and assault? For it is an assault, darling. You have frightened me almost out of my senses." ! - "But this newspaper report, this announcemenl*of your page: 358-359[View Page 358-359] 358 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. engagement and my sister's letter confirmingo it all! he faltered, in bewilderment. "Well, but, dearest, could you not trust me notwith- standing all that?" she pleaded. "For did I not promise to marry you?" "Yes, you did; but--but--" he began. "I told you that I would surely marry you." "Yes, you told me so." "And I told you the truth. I surely will marry you, some time or other, as surely as we both live and you keep true to me." "If I keep true to you! Oh, May! Oh, my darling, my pride, my joy, my hope, my star of destiny, my guard- ian angel 1 what choice have I in keeping true to you?- to you to whom I am bound, soul and body, for life and for death, for time and for eternity?" he cried, with all the wild enthusiasm of his insane, boyish passion. "Then I will surely marry you, sooner or later. Not now, Alden I! Not now, dearest; for neither you nor I can afford to marry now. But sometime, sooner or later, I will marry you, for oh, Alden, I love you only, of all the worldl And if I do not speak the truth in this, may just Heaven strike me dumb forever!" she said, her whole face, look and tone beaming, trembling, thrilling with the impas- sioned earnestness of her words. Even while she spoke, and before she had finished, the, young man sank at her feet and put his hands together, and raised them with his uplifted eyes to her face, as in a mute, eloquent prayer for pardon. For a few seconds he could not speak. Then, in a voice broken and faltering, through strong emotion, he said: "And I could doubt you! doubt you whom I had every reason to trust utterlyl Oh, what a fool and brute I have been I How utterly unworthy of your love and faith! So A TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER. 359 my sister was mistaken. I should have known that she was. Ah, I could scarcely forgive her for writing that let- ter, even under her mistake, if I did not believe that she could not have known our mutual love and betrothal, and consequently could never have suspected the wrong she was doing you, nor the pain she was giving me. But I fully and freely forgive her; for I am too happy to do otherwise. And, dearest May, you zwill forgive me also, when I promise never to doubt you again; ever to trust you utterly!" Mary Grey burst into tears and sobs that. seemed to rend her bosom. "Do not weep so, my beloved! I will never doubt you again. I will trust- you utterly " he repeated, kiss- ing her hands rapturously, and then seating'himself by her side. And now, for what followed in this strange interview, I cannot accofnt in any other, way but by the charitable hypothesis that this beautiful fiend was partially insane. With a perverted and depraved heart, she had also a weak and silly head. Her passions were therefore stronger than her intellect. And the intensexviolent struggle in her soul, between the passion of ambition, that tempted her to marry the wealthy and distinguished Governor of the State, and the passion of love, that pleaded, for the faithful lover by her side, must have deranged her reason for the time. Weeping and sobbing, with her heart beating wildly and her brain whirling dizzily, she yet in some degree con- trolled her thoughts and selected her words as she cau. tiously approached her subject. "Oh, Alden, dearest, you will have to trust me so much!" she said. "I will trust you through everything," he answered with enthusiasm. page: 360-361[View Page 360-361] 360 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Oh, Alden! Oh, my beloved! Your faith will be tried as never man's faith was tried before!" she sighed. "I will trust you through life and unto death!" he said. "Oh, if you *ill do that-if you will do that, we shall be happy at last! Will you trust me through life, Alden?" she pleaded. "Through life and through death! So help me Heaven!" he answered, with all the earnestness of his most earnest nature. "I will trust you through life and unto death!" "You may--indeed you may, for I love you 'unto death I' You best--you only of all created beings!" she answered fervently. "I know it, my own, my beloved!" he said earnestly. "And, Alden, what I am going to do will be done as much for your sake as for my own. Oh! try to believe it!" "I do believe it, my adored one!" "And, oh, Alden you will wait for me, will you not, even though we should not be able to marry for years?" she pleaded. "I will wait for you, my worshipped one, until I get you, if it should take all my life and all yours!" he an- swered, with an infinite trust. "It will not take so long as that, unless we die very young,".she said with a faint smile. "No, I thank Heaven that it will not. For in a year or two I shall graduate and be called to the bar, and then we shall be able to marry, my darling," said Alden, with beaming eyes, for he was very happy now in his "Fool's Paradise." "But you were going to tell me something, M. ay," he added, with an encouraging smile. "Yes; listen, Alden; listen patiently, dearest. And do not misjudge me, as others will be sure to do." "I will never misjudge you again, my angel." "No, do not; for remember, whatever may happen, I A TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER. 361 love you, you only, you utterly. And believe that what- ever I do will be done for your sake as for my own." "I will, I will, my darling! Fear not'l " "Listen, then. Alden, dearest, you know that- we are both very poor." "Yes; but I mean to be very rich, for your sake," hp said hopefully. "And I mean to be very rich for your sake, too, dear- est. But, Alden, we will have to make our fortunes sepa- rately, and in different ways," she said, so gravely that he looked up uneasily. "Alden, dearest, you know that we cannot possibly marry yet, for some years." "Heaven forbid that we should have to wait so long! As for myself, I would gladly, rapturously claim your hand to-day, and take all the chances of poverty." "Poor boy I where should we live? What should we live on? And what would become of your studies?" "I care not. I care only for you. I should be sure to find some way to make a fortune for you." "But I would not let you sacrifice all the ambitious hopes of your youth for my sake; for Iam ambitious for you, Alden. I hope to see you rise to the highest honors of your profession--to the bench of the Supreme Court, some day. So you must study your profession until you graduate with Mclat. That is what you must do. And I? What must Ido, Alden, while waiting for you-?" She paused, and looked earnestly into his anxious face. "I would to Heaven I had wealth, for your sake; to save you from the drudgery of teaching, which I suppose will be your life until I can persuade you to share mine," he said sorrowfully. "No, Alden, I cannot teach. I never was really:capable of teaching. I had but one accomplishment, and that was page: 362-363[View Page 362-363] 362 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. rather a skill in copying than a talent for drawing and painting. But I have lost my situation in Mrs. St. John's school; not through any fault of mine, unless it was inicom- petency. Read that, Alden. I received it some weeks ago from Mrs. St. John," she said, putting the forged letter, with which she had already deceived Governor Cavendish, into the hands of the young man. He took-it, and read it slowly and carefully. And then he returned it to her, in sorrowful silence. "Now, while you are studying your profession, what am Ito do, Alden?" "Oh, would to Heaven I had a home of safety and com- fort to offer you, my own May. But I offer you myself to work for you, my love. If you will give me a husband's right to protect you, I will go and seek employment in some lawyers office, that will enable me to support you in the necessaries, if not in the comforts of life! Will you let me do that, May?" "And sacrifice all your ambitious hopes of wealth and fame? No, Alden, no; I love you too much for that. List- en yet, dearest. An honorable home is offered me, where I may find peace, safety, wealth and comfort, while waiting for you." He started slightly, and looked at her intently. But she averted-her head as she continued. "And, Alden, if you will only trust me and wait for me, as you promised to do, for a few years, at the end of that period of probation I should be able to bring you great wealth. What do you say, Alden? Will you wait for me and trust me as you promised?" "I told you I would trust you through all things, and wait for you till I get you, ifit should be all our lives. And I will do so," he earnestly assured her. "Bless you I bless you! bless you, Alden," she breathed. I , o A TERRIBLE ENaOU NT ER. 363 But oh I how hard it was to look into his true, noble face and come to the point of her discourse. He saw that she hesitated, and came to her assistance. "Tell me all your plans, dearest. Let there be perfect confidence between us." "I will tell you everything. There shall be perfect con fidence between us. But oh, before I do so, assure me again that you believe I love only you of all, the world; that all I do will be for your sake; that you believe I am sincere in my intention to marry you at the end of my pro- bation; and that you will trust me through everything and wait for me until I am free!" she earnestly pleaded. Alden looked at her fondly, and laughed as he said: "Why, I have assured you over and 'over again' that I will do so.' I will swear it, if you please." "Bless you! bless you! I hoped you would. But oh! I also feared' that you would not. You frightened me so when you came in, O you cruel love I " "Sweetest, forgive me, and trust me with your plans; trust me, even as I trust you. Come, now, what is it you, are going to do, which is to put miny faith in you to such a terrible trial? Have you discovered eminent talent for the drama? Are you destined to be an illustrious actress? Have you signed a contract with some enterprising and munificent theatrical manager, to play tragedy at a thou- sand dollars a night? or what?" he -gayly inquired. "I have done none of these things, dearest Alden. I shall not owe my wealth to the stage, nor will. you have to marry an actress. You will make a more ambitious match than that, when the time comes," she added proudly, "Riddle upon riddle I Conundrum after conundrum! I give them all up, Come, love, hesitate no longer. Trust me with your plans, as I trust you in all things," he said, with a tender gayety.. page: 364-365[View Page 364-365] 364 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. But she could not look into his honest face and answer him. She averted and bowed her head as she whispered: "Then Alden--reminding you again that I love only you; that all I do will be for your sake; that I fully in- tend to marry you as soon as I shall be free again, I will tell you: The home of peace, safety and affluence that is offered me is here." He started and changed color, set his teeth, and then became very still and attentive. She, with her averted face, had not seen the start, or noticed his sudden grimness. She paused merely because she found it so difficult and humiliating to continue. "Go on,' be said, in a low, self-controlled tone. "And the-position offered me-is that of-a wife," she added, in a low, hesitating voice, and with a shame-bowed head. "So it is true then," he whispered, in a husky tone, as he clutched the side of the table to steady himself. Then with a mighty effort of self-control, he said: "Yes." "I do not love him the least bit in the world, Alden. Of course you know I do not. I love only you. My heart is true to you.: But he adores me. -As the servants sayi ' he worships the very ground I walk on.' He will do any- thing in the world for me.-Hzush/" she said, suddenly breaking off and listening. "What is the matter?" he inquired, in a strangely low ahd steady tone. "I thought I heard some one in the next room. I was mistaken," she said. "Yes, you were mistaken. Go on." Still with averted face she proceeded, with a sort of fatuity, to unveil all her evil plans. "He will do anything on earth for me. He will make ;-X A TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER0 365 the most princely settlements upon me. And from these I shall be able to help you so much with you studies and profession,'Alden. Just see how much I shall be able to help you.") "Yes, Isee.'" "And the best of all is,- that we lhall not have to wait long. He is old, and in danger of apoplexy. And he will die and leave me a young and wealthy widow!" "Ah/" said Alden, breathing hard. "And then, dearest, you can marry me with all my wealth! That will be better than marrying a pauper such as I am now, or an actress such as you imagined I might be.--ush!" "What now?" "I am sure I heard some one in the next room." "You are quite mistaken." "Well, I suppose I am. And now, Alden, you, under- stand me. While you are studying hard at college, I shall be waiting for you, as the wife of an old man whom I en- dure, so I may come to you at the end of the probation as a wealthy widow!" she said, with an affictation of cheerful confidence. "Yes, I understand you. But why do you not turn your face toward me? You have not looked at me for the last ten minutes. Look in my face, May," he said, with a strange composure. She turned a half-ashamed and half-frightened counte- nance toward him. But when she met his eyes she started, screamed, and then stared at him in a sort of horrified silence for a full minute before she found voice to gasp: "Oh, Alden I after all you do not trust me!" "Oh, yes; I trust you to be--what you are /" he said. "You do not believe me I You know you do not!" "Oh, certainly, I believe you--to be-yourself" page: 366-367[View Page 366-367] 366 A A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Aldenl I Aldenl you terrify me almost to death What do you mean?" she wildly exclaimed, starting to her feet and staring at him in a sort of panic. "Mary Grey I if a man had ventured to ask me to be. come a party to such a base and treacherous plan as you have dared to propose, I should have horsewhipped him within an inch of his life, and taken the consequences. But as a woman has done this, I can only expose her treachery to the worthy gentleman whom she plans to deceive!" "No, no, no You will not do anything so cruel as that. Oh, but I knew by your face that you had the very demon in you. What a terrible face you have, Alden. But you will not be so cruel I " she said, grasping his hands in the agony of her entreaty; "you will not be so cruel as to forsake me yourself, and cause Mr. Cavendish to aban- don me also!" ' Hush I Some one is coming." She started to her feet, and looked around. "Ah, Heaven I I am ruined 1 " she exclaimed. Well she might, CHAPTER LVLI. RETRIBUTION. THE door had silently opened, and Governor Caven- dish was walking across the floor. He looked very strangely. His face was deeply flushed, and the veins in his temples were swollen like cords. He came up to them, but did not speak; yet it was RETRIBUTION. 367 evident from his countenance that he had overheard the treacherous plan proposed by his betrothed. Mary Grey knew that he had, and she stood panic- stricken and dumb. Alden was the first to break the dreadful silence. "d I see that you have discovered this lady's--I should rather say, this person's perfidy. Think no more of it, I beseech you, as I shall not. Forget her, as I shall. Doubly false-false to me, and false to you--she is unworthy of a thought or a regret from either." Governor Cavendish put his shaking hand up to his head, but did not utter a word. "Thank Heaven, sir, as I do, that you have found her out before it is too late." The Governor waved his hand slightly, and attempted to speak; but his crimson face grew purple; he took a step forward, thr'ew up his arms, and fell heavily to the floor. Alden had sprung forward to save him, but he was a second too late. Mrs. Grey screamed. "Hush I you will firighten Miss Cavendish to death," said Alden, as he bent over the fallen man and tried to raise him. But the stout form of Charles Cavendish was too much for the slender young man. He ceased his efforts, and rang the bell. Jerome, the hall footman, answered the summons. "Help me to lift your master to a lounge. He seems to have fainted," said Alden. The man, all aghast with horror, lent a hand. And Alden, with- his assistance, lifted. the prostrate body and laid it on a lounge. Alden stooped to examine Jhim. He was nearly black in the face, breathing laboriously, and quite unconscious. page: 368-369[View Page 368-369] 368 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Mary Grey timidly approached the lounge. Alden turned upon her. "Go awayl How can you bear to look upon your work? If there is a vestige of womanhood Or humanity in you, go, and never come back!" he said, sternly point- ing to the door. With a half-stifled scream, she turned and went out- glad, perhaps, to escape. :' Shall I go and tell NMiss Emma?" inauired the fright- ened servant. "No, do not alarm her yet. Hurry off as fast as you can go, and bring your master's medical attendant-Doctor Hamilton--Main street, I think. Tell him to come at once--the Governor has had a stroke," said Alden, hastily. The footman hastened to obey. Alden got ice-water from the cooler in the back hall and mopped the burning head of the unconscious man. He was still employed in this manner, when, in a. shorter time than could have been hoped, the family physician hurried in. He was a stout, gray-haired, rosy faced man of about sixty. "Bless my soul I this is very sudden!" he said, as he approached his patient and began to examine his condi- tion; "very sudden I A man of such regular and temperate habits too. Any exciting cause that you know of, sir?" heinquired of Alden. "The Governor has had some anxieties lately," an- swered the young man. "Ah, yes, yes! this public life! Well, Mr.-Mr.-" "My name is Lytton," said Alden. "Thank you. Mr. Lytton, we must get him to bed first of all. Where is his daughter?" "In her own apartment I presume. I forbade the ser- vants to alarm her just yet." RETRIBUTION. 369 "Ah, quite right. We will get him comfortably to bed first," said the Doctor. Alden rang the bell and summoned several of the ser- vants, whose united strength it required to lift the heavy, helpless form of the insensible man and convey it to his chamber. When he was undressed and put to bed, and when all that medical skill could do for him then was done, Alden prepared to depart from the house. He wrote a respectful and sympathetic note to Miss Cavendish, offering his services in any capacity in which they might be required, and giving his address-" the Planter's Hotel." I He lef the ote with Doctor Hamilton, who remained beside the patient, requesting him to deliver it to the young lady after she should have seen her father. He went back to his hotel and shut himself up in his solitary room to give vent to the great agony of his soul, that had been suppressed for the last hour by the force of a powerful will. His youthful, passion for the beautiful traitress- was dying certainly, but it was dying a violent and agonizing death. Hours passed, and he sat there still. The dinner gong sounded, but he paid no attention to it. Late in the evening a card was brought to his room. It bore the name of "HORATIUS HAMTTOTON, M D." He went down at once to the public parlor to see the doctor. - "I thank you very much for calling, Dr. Hamilton. How is the Governor?" he inquired, advancing to greet his visitor. "He seems more comfortable. He breathes more easi- ly. But he is still quite unconscious," replied the physician. 23 page: 370-371[View Page 370-371] 370 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "May I ask you what will be the probable result?" in. quired Alden. "It is impossible to say at this juncture," replied the doctor, with professional reserve. "And his daughter?" questioned the young man. "Ahl it is on her part that I have called upon you. Soon after you left I sent for Miss Cavendish to meet me in the library. And I told her, as cautiously as I could, of her father's sudden illness, making as light of it and speak- ing as hopefully as I could; more so, perhaps, than I ought to have done." "Yet, if I may venture to say so, I think you were right in doing so, sir," said Alden. "Well, perhaps I was. Then I took her to her father's i chamber. She was inexpressibly shocked and grieved at seeing his condition. But with wonderful self-command she controlled her feelings, and took her place at his bedside." "She is a young lady of rare strength of character," Alden remarked. "Yes, she is. There was very little that she could do for her father but sit and watch him. After a little while I gave her your note. She thanked me, and read it; but made no comment then." "It was nothing more than an offer of my services, if they should be in any way required," Alden explained. "Yes, I know; for a little later on, when I told her that it would be necessary to have some gentleman in the house to remain with him to-night, she at once handed your note to me to read, and then requested me to call, on my way to my office, and convey her thanks to you and ask you to co'me and sit up with her father to-night. You can do so, without inconvenience?" "Certainly, and most willingly. When shall I report for duty?" ; d ttTHS IS THE END OF EARTH." 371 "Immediately, or as soon as you possibly can." "I will go immediately," said the young man, rising. "I am going to look in upon some of my patients, but I shall see Mr. Cavendish again to-night," said the doctor, as with a bow he left the parlor. Alden Lytton returned to his room only to lock up a few of his effects, and then he took his hat and hurried away to the Government House. Though it was not late in the evening, the front of the house was quite dark and deserted looking, but for one dim light that was burning in an upper window. Alden was admitted by the hall footman, and shown into the back parlor, where only a lamp was burning. Jerome apologized for the semi-darkness by explaining that "Miss Emma had ordered that the gas should not be lighted, but that everything should be kept dark and quiet throughout the house." "Go to Miss Cavendish and present my respects, and say that I am here waiting her orders," said the young gentleman. Jerome went away with his message, and in a few mo- ments returned with Miss Emma's thanks, and a request that Mr. Lytton would walk up stairs. CHAPTER LIX. "THS IS THE END 'OF EARTH." ALDEN followed the footman up to the second floor, where, in a spacious front chamber, richly furnished, and now dimly lighted, the stricken statesman lay. page: 372-373[View Page 372-373] 372 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. In a deep, crimson-cushioned arm-chair, near the head of the bed, sat his daughter. ' At the foot of the bed, in another chair, sat Aunt Moll, the oldest and most favored female domestic in the family. Miss Cavendish arose at once to receive the visitor, holding out her hand, and whispering: "I thank you so very much for coming to us in our trouble." At the same moment Jerome wheeled forward a chair. "Please sit down. There is little to be done now but watch," whispered Tmma. The young man bowed and took the seat. Jerome went and trimmed the taper and stirred the fire, and then withdrew from the room. - And so the watch commenced. The patient lay perfectly quiet, and breathing easily. "We must wait for-a change," murmured Miss Caven- dish, in answer to Alden's inquiring look. "We must wait for a change which will decide the case, favorably I must hope.", After that there was a long, uninterrupted silence. Alden with his bruised and aching heart wondered where the fair fiend who had caused all this woe had hidden herself, and whether Miss Cavendish suspected the cause of her father's attack. But of course he could not know; for this was a sub- ject he could not discuss, even if conversation had been permissible in the sick-room. Meanwhile where was the double traitress? She was locked in her own room, weeping sometimes bitterly over her blighted ambition, and occasionally wiping her eyes and comforting herself with looking at the mag- nificent parure of diamonds, the Governor's last gift to her. Once she had gone to the door of the sick chamber "THS IS THE END OF EARTH." 373 and rapped. And when it was opened by the doctor, she had inquired as to the state of the patient, and had been informed that he needed quiet more than anything else just then. Afterward she waylaid Doctor Hamilton on his way out and inquired more particularly. But the reserved physician was so cautious in his answers that she obtained but little satisfaction from him. Then she went into the dining-room, where the table had been, set as usual, and where the untouched dishes were growing cold. She was such a sound animal withal, that she ate her dinner with almost as good a relish as if she had not lost her lovers and her splendid prospects at one blow. Only perhaps she drank a little more wine than was good for her. After the doctor left, that evening, she went no more to the door of the sick-room, but remained locked in her chamber, sometimes weeping bitterly over the destruction of her splendid prospects, sometimes forti- fying her mind with the sight of her magnificent jewels. At length, when she was tired enough to go to bed, she rang for a servant, and sent a message to Miss Cavendish inquiring how Governor Cavendish, was now, and if she, Mrs. Grey, could be of any service. She received an answer to the effect that Governor Cavendish was no better, and no worse; that Mr. Lytton would sit by him through the night, and that Mrs. Grey's services would not be required. "He therel Now he will tell Emma Cavendish all about it, and I shall lose my last friend I " she said to her- self, in-dismay. And this fear kept her awake many hours. But she was mistaken. For not only was all conversa- tion prohibited in the sick-room, but Alden Lytton would never, under any circumstances, have said one word to add page: 374-375[View Page 374-375] 374 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. an additional sorrow to the devoted daughter watching by her father's death-bed. When he heard the message from Mrs. Grey, deceit- fully offering her services, he simply shuddered. He felt that he could not have borne the addition of her presence in the sick-room. But when he heard the answer returned by Miss Cav- endish, declining those services with thanks, he felt relieved and breathed freely. But he never dreamed of giving Miss Cavendish so much additional pain as she would suffer in hearing from him of the perfidy of Mrs. Grey. The watch in the sick-room continued. At midnight the doctor looked in again. Finding Miss Cavendish still beside her father and looking very pale, he peremptorily ordered her off to bed, saying that he himself, with Mr. Lytton and Aunt Moll, would keep watch until morning; and that if any change should occur, either for the better or for the worse, he would at once summon the daughter. So Emma stooped and pressed a kiss upon the uncon- scious lips of her father, breathed a prayer for his recovery, and slipped from the room. Alden and the doctor continued the watch. All re- mained quiet in the sick chamber until near morning, when the patient exhibited signs of restlessness, if not of return- ing consciousness. The doctor stooped over him and inquired: "How do you find yourself, Mr. Cavendish?" "Water," faintly murmured the sinking man. Alden arose quietly and got a glass of water, which the doctor took and held to the lips of the sufferer, who drank a little with difficulty. "How do you find yourself now, sir?" again inquired Dr. Hamilton. "THS IS THE END OF E A R T H. 375 "Well,?' murmured Mr. Cavendish, as he closed his eyes and reiapsed'into quietness. But very soon he opened them again, and murmured some word indistinctly. Again the doctor bent over him. "What will you have, Mr. Cavendish?" he inquired. The dying man moved his lips once or twice ineffec- tually, and then with difficulty enunciated one word: Emma." "Go and call Miss Cavendish," said the doctor, address- ing Aunt Moll. The woman arose, and hurriedly yet silently crossed the chamber. Emma Cavendish was not far off. She had not retired to bed, or even taken off her dress. -She had simply laid down on the sofa in the hall, outside her father's chamber. So she entered the room almost immediately, and went up to the bedside of her father. "Open the window," said the doctor. Alden Lytton went quietly and unclosed and threw back the shutters, letting in:the early morning sunshine. Old Moll at the same moment extinguished the taper. . ; The full light fell on the face of Charles Cavendish, revealing a fatal change. His face, lately so deeply flushed, was now deadly pale; his breathing was short and quick; but the light of con- sciousness had returned to his eyes, and those eyes were fixed with unutterable longing on his daughter's bending face. He murmured something that she bent her ear close to his lips to hear. And then she raised her head, addressing the doctor, who stood at the table pouring some liquid from a bottle into a glass. She, id: page: 376-377[View Page 376-377] 376 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Dr. Hamilton, my father wishes to be left alone with me for a few minutes." "Very well, my dear Miss Cavendish; but I must pos- itively administer a stimulant first,"-answered the physician, approaching the bed with the glass in his hand. BFmman Cavendish tenderly lifted her fathers head, while Dr. Hamilton held the glass to his lips. Mr. Cavendish swallowed the contents with some diffi- culty,- and then lay back on his pillow. The doctor stood by the bed for a few moments to watch the effect. It-seemed- beneficial. The patient breathed more freely, and even uttered the words: "Thanks. 'Leave me now." And the doctor, the young man, and the old nurse, all withdrew from the room, leaving the dying father and his daughter alone together. They went, however, no further than the hall outside the chamber, and there they sat upon the sofa, where Emma had so lately lain; and they waited. They waitedlonger than the few minutes for which they had been requested to absent themselves. They waited half an hour-three quarters of an hour. And then the dead silence was broken by a faint scream. The doctor went and opened the door, looked in, and uttered an exclamation that brought all the others to him. They entered the room together. The soul of Charles Cavendish was gone, and his daugh- ter lay in a swoon across his body. CH!APTER LX. WHAT FOLLOWS. "There is no death; what seems so, is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but the suburb of the life Elysian, Whose portal we call death I " lrE Y raised Emma Cavendish up. She came to her- self. "Come away, my darling child. He is dead," said the old nurse tenderly, putting her arm around the waist of the bereaved daughter to lead her from the room, while the doctor, as a mere matter of form, felt the still pulse of the body, and Alden stood gazing on in awful silence. "Yes, quite dead," whispered the doctor. "No, not dead; he is not dead; this is dead, because he has left it; but he lives," murmured his daughter,. in a sweet low tone, and so- quietly, that all wondered at her calmness. Stoopmg down she kissed the vacated form upon the forehead, then followed the old nurse from the room to her own chamber, where she sat down in her easy chair by the fire, wondering at herself, reproaching herself because, while she perfectly understood the great sorrow that had fallen upon her, she felt so little pain. The truth was that the blow had been so sudden, so shocking, as to stun her into quietness. She comprehend- ed, but could not realize the situation. She had not-yet missed him. But the time would come, and soon enough, when this once fondly cherished, but now most desolated daughter, must deeply feel the loss of him who had at once been father, mother, companion, teacher and all to her. (377) page: 378-379[View Page 378-379] 378 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. The old nurse seeing her so calm, thought she might be safely trusted to herself. So she just pushed the footstool under her feet, and then left the room to go and attend to the numerous domestic duties that at this crisis devolved solely upon herself. Meanwhile, in the chamber of death, Dr. Hamilton and Alden Lytton with reverent hands composed the dead body upon the bed and covered it smoothly with the white quilt to await the arrival of the undertaker, for whom the doc- tor had already sent. "And now is there any other service I can render be- fore leaving the house, or afterward?" inquired Alden. "Yes," answered the doctor' "Mr. Cavendish has an aged mother, in very feeble health, who is living at his country place, Blue Cliffs, near Wendover. She must be notified of this sad event. But it will not do to telegraph, or even to write to her. Such news suddenly told would kill he. We shall have to telegraph to the Rector of Wendover church, and ask him to go to Blue Cliffs, and' cautiously break the' news of this calamity to the bereaved mother. I don't know his name, but I presume a telegram sent simply to the Rector of Wendover church would be sure to reach him." "Oh, certainly. If it reaches Wendover, it will reach him; for everybody in that little town knows him. But I can give you his name. It is Doctor Goodwin." "Thanks. Can I trouble you to send off the tele- gram?" "Certainly. I will do so immediately, and anything else in my power." "There is nothing more at present, thank you, Mr. Lytton," answered the doctor, as he drew his note-book from his pocket, tore out a blank leaf, and hastly wrote the message, which he handed to Alden. WHAT FOLLOM S. 379 The young man took it and was about to withdraw, when the doctor for the first time noticed the pale and haggard look of misery on his face. "Mr. Lytton," he said, " you are not well. When you have dispatched that message you had better go home and go to bed. Rest may restore you." "Thanks. I am not ill," answered Alden, with a wretched attempt to smile, as he left the room. A few moments afterward the old nurse softly entered. "I have had breakfast got ready for you gentlemen, sir, airlier than common, which I thought you would be in need of it, after being up all night," she said. "You are very kind," answered the doctor. "Where is Miss Cavendish?) . "In her own room, sir; which she is much quieter like, than any one might think. I sent her some tea and toast on a waiter. I think as she bears up very well, sir. But I met Mr. Alden as he was a coming down stairs, and he looks awful. And when I ast him to stay to breakfast, he just stopped and stared at me a minute and then went by me like the wind. Ah! he takes it awful hard, that young man does. And he no kin to the Governor neither," said the nurse, shaking her head. '"He looks badly," said the doctor, as- he followed the woman to the breakfast-room and to the table, where he seated himself, while she stood and poured out his coffee, "Am I to breakfast alone?" inquired the doctor, with a faint smile. "I'm feared so, sir. Mrs. Grey she never wakes up till about nine o'clock, answered the old -" auntie." "Ah, Mrs. Grey! I had quite forgotten that poor lady. And. of course, if she has not yet awakened, she knows nothing of what has happened," said the doctor, gravely pondering. page: 380-381[View Page 380-381] 380 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. , Oh, la I no, sir! She don't know nothing at all about it," said the nurse, as she set a steaming fragrant cup of coffee by the doctor's plate. "Poor lady I This will be a heavy blow to her indeed, if all is true that is reported," muttered the doctor, speak- ing to himself rather than to his aged attendant. "It's all true, sir. Sure as a gun! Him and her was a gwine to be married on Soft-Tuesday," answered the woman. And by Soft-Tuesday she probably meant Shrove- Tuesday. "Humph, humph!" muttered the doctor, who did not wish being betrayed into gossiping about the late Gover- nor's family affairs with a domestic, even so old and faith. ful a servant as this one was. And he finished his breakfast in silence. Where was Mary Grey all this time? In bed and asleep! After her late vigil she slept soundly, and far into the forenoon, unconscious of the confusion that death had brought into the house. It was ten o'clock when at length she opened her beau- tiful baleful eyes. At first awaking she had totally forgot- ten the terrible events of the preceding day. Then she felt a vague sense of uneasiness that she could -not account for. And then the full light of memory flashed upon her. "Oh, my Lord, my Lord!" she said, as she sprang out of bed-- I have lost all-all! My young lover's heart and my old betrothed's wealth-! What shall I do! Oh, what shall I do?" She went and threw open the window shutters, and raised the window to let in the bright and bracing sun- shine and air of winter. She had had a good, long, sound sleep, and that had . . . WHAT FOLLOWS. 381 restored her physical and mental strength. And now the crisp morning air restored her spirits. She felt invigora- ted and encouraged. "After all," she said hopefully, "all may not be lost. I am not at all sure that the old gentleman heard one word, that passed between Alden and myself. He was certainly no eavesdropper; not he! And so, of course, his attack may not have been caused by any, excitement on my account. Old gentlemen like him drop off with apoplexy under all circumstances. And if he only lives for a few days, and recovers his consciousness, if not his health, he may yet make a will and leave me a handsome provision. Oh, then, if he did not hear my conversation with Alden, and if he should only recover his consciousness long enough to recognize and provide for me, how happy I may yet be l That will be better than marrying him. Then I may easily -no, not so very easily either, but I may, by perseverance, effect a reconciliation with my young lover, and both may be very happy!--Ah, if only he did not overhear us, and if only he lives long enough to make a will! I will ring at once and inquire. No doubt he is better.- People always get better in the morning," she said, as she arose and rang her bell. Matilda, one of the house-maids, answered it. "How is Governor Cavendish this morning? Go and give my love to Miss Cavendish and inquire," said Mrs. Grey. "If you please, ma'am," began the girl, and then she stopped and cried. "What is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Grey, in some uneasiness. "Please, ma'am, he's gone! Oh.! oh! -0 dear! 0 dear-!" the girl burst forth, weeping. "Gone!" echoed Mrs. Grey, in consternation. page: 382-383[View Page 382-383] A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. " Oh, yes, indeed, ma'am! Dead and gone Dead and gone ! Oh ! 0 dearl Oh! O dear " 'I Heaven and earth I Is he dead then ? When did he die?" exclaimed Mrs. Grey, in a faint voice, and with an ashen cheek. "O dear! This-this morn-this morning at about sun-sunrise, ma'am!" sobbed the girl. "Oh, my Lord!, It is all over then All over !" cried Mrs. Grey, with a hysterical shriek, as she threw herself weeping and sobbing upon the bed. "Oh! don't go on so, ma'am I please don't " pleaded the girl, frightened into quietness by the extreme excite- ment of the lady. But Mary Grey only screamed and cried the more. "All is over All is lost! I wish I too were dead!" And she rolled and grovelled on the bed. The girl ran away in affright. . 4 CHAPTER LXI. THE SERPENT AND THE DOVE. INSTEAD of going directly to invoke the help of the old nurse, as she ought to have done, she ran to the room of Miss Cavendish and entered hastily without knock- ing, and exclaimed: "Oh I if you please, Miss, do come to Mrs. Grey! She's takin' on awful! awful!" Miss Cavendish lifted her head and stared for a mo- ment. But the girl repeated, in half-breathless excite ment: THE SERPENT AND THE DOVE. 383 "She's a goin' on horrid, Miss! most horrid to hear! Oh, please, do come and see if you can coax her to stop!" Emma arose in silence and went to Mary Grey's room, preceded by the frightened girl, who with trembling hands opened the door for the young lady. Miss Cavendish passed into the room, where she found Mrs. Grey on the bed, rolling and grovelling, crying and sobbing in hysterical agony. Emma stopped short and gazed at the sufferer, and saw by the bloodless cheeks, drawn lips, corrugated brow, and sunken and inflamed eyes, that this was real and not simu- lated grief. But as she knew nothing of this woman's double-dyed duplicity, so she could not suspect that all this passionate wailing came not from the sorrow of a lov- ing heart, mourning for the loss of a beloved friend, but from the bitter? bitter disappointment of an ambitious and scheming adventuress, who had staked her all in the game of life and lost it. And Emma pitied Mrs. Grey, and re- proached herself that she'could not feel this violent grief. She thought how good and great, how handsome and at- tractive her father had been, and she did not think it strange that the young widow had loved him ardently, and that she now mourned him passionately. She did not know the woman as Alden Lytton knew her, or as you and I know her, reader. All her instinctive dislike of the coquette disappeared, and as she contemplated her anguish, and remembered how her father had loved this woman, her own heart melted with sympathy. She went to Mary Grey and put her arms around her, and weeping, said: "Do not grieve so.' Try to compose yourself. See, dear I I am his daughter, and I have not shed a tear till now. I could not, somehow." page: 384-385[View Page 384-385] 384 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "Oh-h-hl" sobbed the woman, with moans breathed from the very depth of her heart. "Oh! I have lost my all I my all! I had but one-dear friend in the world, and him I have lost! Oh, I wish I could follow him, for I am desolate I desolate on the face of the -earth!" This bitter grief was wholly sincere, though it came from disappointed ambition rather than from bereaved affection, But the words in which she expressed it were half false. I Miss Cavendish could not know this. She only saw the grief, and sought to soothe it. "Do not weep so wildly, dear," she gently murmured through her own falling tears. "And do not say so bit- terly that you have no friend left in the world, now that the is gone. I, his daughter, will always be your friend, for his sake." Mary Grey paused in her passionate wailings to listen to these words, which seemed to open up a bright, new vista in her future life. Yet as soon as she fully heard and understood them, she resumed her crying and sobbing. For it was a remunerative occupation, she thought, which it would not do to stop- suddenly now; though now there was less occasion for it. , "There, there; weep no more, dear. Be consoled. Because my father loved you, you shall be my sister, and share my home. Listen, dear. The only comfort I can take now will be in cherishing those whom my dear father loved and left behind. His love and his loss is a bond of sympathy between us, dear, that not even death can dis- solve," murmured F mmr Cavendish, so gently and sweetly, that the false-hearted woman drew her down and kissed her with something like real feeling. A few moments after this there came a rap at the cham- ber door, followed by the entrance of Miss Cavendish' , .. A jf? .. THE SERPENT AND THE DOVE. 385 maid, who came up and whispered a few words in the ear of her mistress. "Tell the doctor that I will be down directly. And show him into the library," said Miss Cavendish The girl went to take her message. "I must leave you for a short time, dear. Dr. Hamil- ton has sent word to me that he has received a telegram from Blue Cliffs -from Wendover, I suppose, in fact, but dated at Blue Cliffs," said Emma Cavendish, as she pressed a kiss on Mrs. Grey's brow, and left her. She went softly down stairs and entered the library, where she found Dr. Hamilton waiting for her. She greeted him courteously and sat down. "I have a telegram from Dr. Goodwin, Miss Cavendish. Shall I read it, to you?" inquired the doctor. "If you please." Dr. Hamilton unrolled the printed slip and read: "WENDOVER, January 25th, 18-. "Message received with great grief. Mrs. Cavendish too infirm to travel. Directs the remains to be forwarded to Blue Cliffs, for interment in the family vault. Dr. Ham- ilton will act for Mrs. Cavendish. Will write this morning. "1 ABLE GOODWIN," "I thank you, sil. It would appear by this that my grandmother received the news very quietly," said Emma Cavendish. "My dear young lady, the very old usually receive all things very quietly. Iheirs is 'a time of peace,' as Ten- nyson writes," said the doctor gravely. "You will kindly do as she has requested'? You will act for her? There is no one else, you know." "My dear Miss -Cavendish, of course I am entirely at your service and hers." "' Then I should be very grateful if you would arrange 24 page: 386-387[View Page 386-387] 386 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. for the removal as soon as possible. I wish to get out of this-to get out of this house, where I have no longer any right to stay. I must remain here as long as my dear fa- ther's body is here, and then accompany it to Blue Cliffs," said Miss Cavendish, struggling hard to keep down the rising emotion that the very name of her beloved father called up. "My dear young lady, everything will be done with the utmost dispatch consistent with the rendering of due honor to the remains of the late Governor." "Ah I I had forgotten that. i was thinking only of my beloved father, and that we might take his body to our old quiet home, and lay it at rest among his kindred. Oh! 1 did not. reflect on the parade the public would be sure to make over the deceased Governor. But, Dr. Hamilton, is it really so necessary? It would not be to his taste, you know." "I know it would not. But, Miss Cavendish, it is una- voidable. You need not, however, suffer any annoyance here. .Keep the upper rooms, and have your meals brought to you. And now, my dear child, you must really go and lie down. You are very strong, to govern your feelings as well as you do. But all this self-government will tell upon your health, if you are not very careful. Go now, imme- diately, and take your much needed rest,' said Dr. -Hamil- ton gently, as he led her to the door and held it open for her. She bowed and passed out. As she walked through the grand hall, she noticed sev- eral groups of grave dignitaries of the State standing about and conversing in low, solemn tones, while various officials passed swiftly arid silently in and out of the rooms, and up and down the stairs. As she went by the open door of the state dining-room, she observed some working-men THE HEIBESS. 87 387 quietly putting up black tapestry on the walls. And the low "tap-tap" of their little hammers was ilmost the only Through all this .iss Cavendish slipped softly until she gained the santuary of her own chamber. CHAPTER LTxi. THE h EILESS. THE week was a time of great trial to the bereaved daughter. For while, in the seclusion of her own room, she was quietly mourning the loss of her father, the whole household, as well as the city and the state ofticias, were busy with their preparations for the ostentatious funeral procession of the Governor. But she kepther chamber on the first foor and tried to see and hear as little of the bustle as possible d her as The sudden death of the Governor had been formally announced to the House of Delegates then in session. And they had passed the usual resolutions in his honor-- their Mon--and then given themselves a holiday, to take p art in the public parade of the funeral. All the public offices were closed, and all the public buildings were festooned with black . The body of the late Governor was laid in state in the drawing-room of the Executive mansion, the wall s of wh ich were hung with black serge. And all persons who, from respect or curiosity, or any page: 388-389[View Page 388-389] A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. other motive, wished to do so, might come and gaze at will upon the earthly tenement now vacated by Charles Caven- dish. And all day long crowds passed through the rooms of the Government House-crowds of all classes of the peo- ple, of all ages and of both sexes--covering the rich car- pets with mud, and filling the air with odors that were not those of frankincense and myrrh. But Miss Cavendish saw no one except the servant who waited on her, and Mrs. Grey, who soothed her with the praises of the departed, and Dr. Hamilton, who called daily to inquire after the health of the ladies, and to see if he could in any way, professional or otherwise, be of any ser- vice to them. Alden Lytton called also every day, but his inquiries and offers of service were always addressed to Dr. Hamil- ton, who, seeing the pallor of his face, constantly refused assistance, and earnestly recommended him to take care of himself, and before all, to go home. "I shall stay here until the remains of my dear friend are taken from the city. When I see the body once on board the cars, I shall leave for the- University," answered Alden on the last occasion on which the Doctor counselled him. At length the last day of excitement came; the day on which the body of Charles Cavendish was to be removed from the Executive mansion and escorted with great magni- ficence to the railway station, and laid in state in the superb funeral car on the train that was to take it to Wendover. And the city was the scene of a solemn pageant. Not only all the public buildings of the city, but all the private houses on each side of the street through which the funeral procession was to pass, were deeply draped with black. Before and around the square occupied by the Execu- tive mansion military and civic and masonic companies were paraded and marshalled into form. There were belted officers and scarfed marshalls, and prancing steeds, and waving plumes, and rolling drums, flaunting banners, gleaming steel, and all the magnificent and splendid pageantry that form the funeral procession of a great public officer. , A superb hearse received the corpse, and was attended by a special guard of honor immediately around it. It was followed by a close mourning coach containing the bereaved daughter, her unworthy companion, one faith- ful maid-servant, and the family physician. Before and behind the hearse and coach, the military and civic companies marched slowly, with bowed heads and trailing weapons, and flags and banners at half mast. And so in due time they reached the railway station, which was also heavily draped with black serge. With due reverence the pall-bearers, who were some of the highest dignitaries of the State, removed the coffin from the hearse and solemnly bore it into the car that had been especially fitted up to receive it. This was something like a drawing-room car, except that its walls and chairs were covered with black velvet, and its little windows were curtained with black silk, and that it contained no mirrors, but one long narrow table down the middle, also covered with black velvet. On this table the pall-bearers in solemn silence placed the coffin, covering it carefully with the black velvet pall. They then took their seats in order, three on each side the table. Then a small group of two deeply veiled ladies, a ser- vant woman and an elderly gentleman entered the car and seated themselves at the end, at the foot of the coffin. page: 390-391[View Page 390-391] 390 A BIEAUTIFUL FIE-ND. These were of course Miss Cavendish, Mrs. Grey, their female attendant and Dr. Hamilton. In ten minutes the train moved out of the station. The journey was a long and very quiet one. The train was the express, and it stopped at but few stations. And these were all heavily draped in black serge, and crowded with eager, pushing people assembled to see the funeral car and coffin of their late Governor. Of course they could s'ee nothing but the outside of the car, with its little black curtained windows. At these stations, passengers from other cars went out and refreshed themselves. But the passengers in the funeral car kept their seats through all that long and try- ing journey. It was midnight when the train reached Wendover. Here the railway station and the few public buildings of the little country town were deeply draped in mourning. Here also, late as the hour was, the military and civil officers of the county, and nearly all the inhabitants of the town, were assembled to receive the remains of the late Governor. The coffin was reverently taken from the car and born in torch-light procession to -the Town Hall, whose walls were hung with black, and where it was laid in state. Here a guard of honor, composed of the principal citi- zens, relieved the late watchers, who, with ]Miss Cavendish, Mrs. Grey and their attendants, went to the Reindeer for the night. To be brief, the next day the little country-town, on a very much smaller scale, repeated the pageantry of the great capital city, And then the coffin was put into a handsome heaqse, / and escorted with great pomp to Blue Cliffs, where it was received by the venerable pastor of the parish, and 'by the aged mother of the deceased. And where finally, with THE BLUE CLIFFS. 391 the last sacred Christian ceremonies, it was consigned to the family vault. CHAPTER LX I I. THE BLUE CLIFFS. rHE meeting between Emma Cavendish and her aged grandmother had been very quiet. A few tender kisses had beeh exchanged; a few silent tears had been shed; and that was all. ,%, Then Emma had taken the hand of Mrs. Grey, who, during the first moments of this meeting had stood a little apart, and presented her to the old lady, saying: "Grandma, this is Mrs. Mary Grey, of whom, I suppose my dear father must have written to you." The old lady held out her hand hesitatingly, and looked perplexed from one to the other. "Hdon't remember," she said, at last, with the uncer- tainty and feebleness of age. "My dear father was; to have lmarried this lady, you know," said Emma. "Oh, yes! I recollect nowl" said Mrs. Cavendish. "He loved her, grandma, and we must cherish her for his sake," continued Miss Cavendish. "And I am a widow and an orphan, friendless and des- olate. And if he had not died'so soon, I should have been his cherished wife and your dutiful daughter," said Mary Grey pathetically, for she did not half like her reception by Mrs. :Cavendish. "If my dear Charleyloved you and would have married you, you shall still be my daughter, and, as Emoma says, page: 392-393[View Page 392-393] 392 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. we will cherish you for his sake. Kiss me, my dear. You look very young to have been engaged to a man of my Charley's age," said the old lady kindly. Mary Grey stooped and kissed her very sweetly "And now, my Emma, take her yourself, and give her her choice among the spare rooms. Hthink the corner room, with the view of Mount Columbus, is the pleasantest. I would attend you myself, dear, only you see I am too feeble to stir from my chamber without help. You will excuse me?" she asked, taking the hand of her might have been daughter-in-law. "Oh, say no more! You are so good to me! Oh, how can I tell you how much I thank you?" said Mrs. Grey, as she raised the venerable hand of the old lady to her lips. "My poor Charley's betrothed!" said othe old mother, with emotion, as she tottered to her feet, held out- her arms, and drew her to her heart in a fond embrace. And thus the serpent was received into the bosom of the affectionate and confiding family. "There, Emma; take her, dear. She is nothing but a girl after all. Be good to her, and give her the bAst in the house. She would have been the mistress of the house if poor Charley had lived, you know. Let her now be its most cherished inmate," said Mrs. Cavendish, gently re- leasing her. And then as Mary Grey, with her deep black-bordered handkerchief held to her face, was weeping, or affecting to weep, the old lady, in a flighty, doting way, recalled her again, and once more took her hand. "Did you love my Charley so much, poor dear?" Oh, more than my life! Such a man! How could I help worshipping him?" exclaimed the deceiver, with well- feigned emotion. "How, indeed!" echoed the partial old mother. "How THE BLUE CLIFFS. 393 could you help loving and worshipping him? He was :so handsome, so dignified and gracious in his manner; so good and wise in heart and head I I am very sorry for you, my poor child. Sorrier for you than I am for myself. For, ah me! I shall soon be with my sonl very, very soon! A few short months, perhaps a few short days, and I too shall pass through the golden gates and enter the splendors of the new Jerusalem I But you, my poor child, are so young --so young that you may have to live full half a century in this sorrowful world without him I You will never meet a man who will be able to console you for his loss." "Oh, never! never! neverl'" wailed the widow with well-simulated despair. "No, for no woman who had ever loved Charles Cav endish, could ever sink to a lower man." "Oh, no X no I no!" cried the widow, bursting into hys. terical sobs. "There, there! I have worked your feelings up too much, my poor, stricken Child. Take her, Emma. Take her out and comfort her," said Mrs. Cavendish, putting the widow's hand in her granddaughter's. And Emma Cavendish, who never suspected Mary Grey's duplicity and hypocrisy, but who pitied her for what she supposed to be her nervous weakness and want of self-control, led her gently from the room, and to divert her thoughts, took her up to the second floor and through the principal chambers of the house, from which to choose her own apartments. And Mary Grey chose the spacious corner room whose windows looked out upon the towering heights of Mount Columbus, the highest of the Blue Cliffs. The next morning Mr. Fergusson, the Wendover law- yer, who was also the solicitor of the deceased Governor, arrived at Blue Cliffs Hall, and had a short private in- page: 394-395[View Page 394-395] A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. terview with Dr. Hamilton, who had not yet left the house. After which the family were all called together in the chamber of old Mrs. Cavendish, where Mr. Fergusson pro. duced and read to them the last will and testament of Charles Cavendish, in which, after a few legacies, he de- vised the whole of his real and personal estate to his daugh- ter Emma, appointing as the trustees of the estate the guardians of his heiress and the executors of his will: first his mother, Mrs. Winifred Dorothy Cavendish; secondly his sister, Mrs. Susannah Wesley; and thirdly his friend and pastor, the Rev. Dr. Joel Barton. This will was dated nearly two years before the tes. tator's decease, which accounts for two omissions-the omission of Mary Grey's name, and that of his sister's sec- ond married name; the advent of Mary Grey into his life, and the marriage and departure of his widowed sister, both having occurred within the last twelve months. It will be seen that this will left Emma Cavendish in a very peculiar and trying position. A girl of seventeen, heiress of a vast fortune, well provided by her father's will with guardians and trustees, and yet, by the events that had transpired since that will was made, left, to all intents and purposes, sole mistress of herself and her fortune. For one of her guardians, the Rev. Dr. Barton, had gone to the better world; another, Mrs. Wesley, had mar- ried and gone to India; while the remaining one, Mrs. Cavendish, was sinking into dotage. The will, however, satisfied every one, except Mary Grey. To her it was another bitter disappointment. Being of a very sanguine temperament and presumptu ous mind, she had hoped against hope that Mr. Cavendish might possibly have made a recent will, and left her a por- tion of his immense fortune. "'WN, w ," U % -1 , THE BLUE CLIFFS. 395 And now she discovered that he had made no later will, and had left her nothing. In her chagrin and mortification, she burst into tears and hurried from the room. How she loved him, poor child! Go after her, Emma, my dear, and try to comfort her," said the tender-hearted, unsuspicious old lady. And Emma Cavendish, never dreaming that Mary Grey had ever cherished such absurd hopes as had now fallen through, but who sincerely pitied what she took to be a morbid and excessive sensibility, hastened after the little hypocrite to console her. And that very evening, when Mrs. Cavendish sent for Emma to have a little social talk with her before retiring to bed, the old lady said: "I pity that poor, sweet young creature so much, Emma. More than I pity myself or you. Do you think that so strange, dear?" "Yes, grandma, I do; for you were his mother and I was his daughter. We were the two nearest to him of all the world," said Emma, who began to fear that the old lady's mind was giving way, even faster than she had supposed. "But, my dear, see here. I, his mother, shall very, very soon be with him. And you, his daughter, will some day, I trust in Providence, meet some noble-minded man who will be the comfort, support and joy of your life. While she, poor child, has met and loved just such a man-met and loved and lost him And in all her long life to come she can never be happy again. For no woman who has ever loved my Charley could ever descend to love another man." Emma sighed, and said nothing. She could scarcely agree with her grandmother in opinion, yet she would not oppose her. page: 396-397[View Page 396-397] 396 A BEAUTIFUL- FIENDS "And now, my dear rEmma, we must do all we can for poor Charley's bereaved love. We cannot give her back the lover she has lost, and the husband she has missed; but we can at least provide handsomely for her. You are so rich, Emma I so very, very rich I And when I go to the better land you will be richer still for all I leave behind. You will have so much, Emma, and she will have nothing unless we give it to her. We must provide for her." "We will, dear grandma. It is my earnest wish to do so," answered Miss Cavendish. "You are a good girl, Emma. Good-night. Heaven bless you, my dear child!" said the old lady, as she dis- missed her granddaughter. And so Mary Grey found herself, as the old lady had said, the most honored and cherished inmate of the family -honored like a distinguished guest, and cherished as a dear daughter. But she was very far from being happy. She knew that she enjoyed all these rights, privileges and luxuries upon sufferance only. She knew her position to be a very precarious one. Discovery, like the sword of Damacles, hung by a hair over her head. And then she would lprobably be sent from her home of elegant appointments and lazy luxury out into the hard world, to choose between work and beggary. And her fear of discovery was augmented a thousand fold by a letter from Laura Lytton to- Emma Cavendish- a letter of sincere sympathy and condolence it was, in which Laura offered to come and stay with her friend dur- ing the approaching Easter holidays. But Laura Lytton's letter, like Governor Cavendish's will, altogether omitted to mention the name of Mary Grey. That looked very badly. AT BLUE CLIFF HALL. 397 "She does not know that you are-here, dear. How should she even think it? I have not written to her since my dear father left us. I must write now, however," said Emma, as she withdrew to answer the letter. Mary Grey's heart was filled with fear. Suppose Laura Lytton should come at Easter? Suppose she had heard from her brother all that had passed :between Alden and herself on that fatal morning of the' Governor's seizure? She would expose it all to Mrs. Cavendish and Emma. And then-- 1 CHAPTER- LXIV. AT BLUE CLIFF HALL. Oh, bright is that home when the spring-time returns, And brighter than all, when the evening fire burns- When snow falls around it, and comfort within Tells the time when the pleasures of winter begin. MRS. ELLIS. B Y a singular train of circumstances, Emma Cavendish, the richest heiress in the country, found herself, at seventeen years of age, to all intents and purposes, her own mistress. True, by her late father's will, dated two years before his death, three guardians had been appointed for her. But now the first of these, the Rev. Mr. Goodwin, was a saint in heaven. The second, Mrs. Susan Wesley, was a missionary in farther India. The third and last, Mrs. Margaret Cavendish, was an infirm old lady, confined to her chamber, and fast falling into dotage. page: 398-399[View Page 398-399] A BEAUTIFUL FIEND.. The two last mentioned and surviving guardians, Mrs. Wesley and Mrs. Cavendish, while from their conditions they were unable to control the actions of the orphan heiress, yet, by their simple existence they stood between her and the Orphan's Court, that, in the event of their death, might have appointed other guardians not so accept- able to Miss Cavendish. As it was, with only her doting grandmother to con- sult, the young lady had her own way in every thing, even in assigning to Mrs. Grey the best suit of rooms in the house, the smartest ladies-maid on the premises, the finest pony in the stables, and a quarterly allowance that a bil- lionaire would have shrunk from giving away. In vain old Mr. Fergusson, the family solicitor, shook his rugged iron-gray head over this last piece of lavish generosity. He had no power to prevent it. He could only offer advice. But notwithstanding her handsome rooms and smart waiting-maid and fine pony and large income, and all the comforts and luxuries that surrounded her, and the love and respect that attended her, Mary Grey was miserable. Constant fear of detection oppressed her soul. Mrs. Cavendish and Miss Cavendish noticed her unhap- piness, and ascribed it all to grief for the loss of her betrothed husband. And they redoubled their efforts to soothe and comfort her. The old lady, who believed that, next to Christian faith, steady occupation was the best cure for grief, often invited Mrs. Grey into her room to read with her, sing to her, or work with her at the pretty old-fashioned arts of tambour- ing, shagreening, tatting and so forth. And the old lady's room was a very pleasant chamber, lighted by two lofty windows, that looked out upon the mountain ranges; warmed by a glowing hickory wood fire in the ample old-fashioned fireplace, which was furnished and adorned by high brass andirons and brass fender, both burnished bright as gold. Then there was a crimson carpet on the floor, crimson curtains to the old time four- posted bedstead, crimson curtains to the tall windows, and crimson covers to the easy-chairs. And the old style ma- hogany chest of drawers and clothes-press and cabinet were all waxed and polished till they shone .like dark mirrors, in the reflection of the fire flame. Altogether it was a bright, warm, cherry chamber, where Emma liked to pass a great deal of her time, working with or reading to the old lady. But as for Mary Grey she found it " slow "and dull, though she was too prudent to say so. She-had a weight upon her mind-that dread of detec- tion I have -mentioned, augmented now to terror, in the anticipation 'of Laura Lytton's visit at the Easter holi days. She felt desperate enough at times to run away. And then she could not forget Alden Lytton. With all the capacity of love she possessed in her selfish nature, she loved the handsome young student. And she could not yet give him up, and renounce all hope of ever winning him back. She was not only very unhappy; but she was very much bored at Blue Cliffs. In the regularity of the household arrangements there was nothing to make her forget her troubles. Their days were passed something like this: They rose at seven o'clock in the morning, had family prayers in the old lady's room at half .past seven, when they always found her already up and dressed, and seated in her easy-chair by the blazing wood fire, and her room in perfect order. page: 400-401[View Page 400-401] A BEAUTIFUL- FIEND. After prayers they breakfasted in the small oak-panelled parlor next to the old lady's room. After breakfast, Emma would have her daily consulta- tion with her housekeeper, and order the dinner and all other domestic matters for the day. Then Fmma, attended by old Jerome, would go out riding on horseback for an hour or two. She always in- vited Mrs. Grey to go with her. But the indolent beauty detested horseback riding, or any other exercise that called for the least exertion on her part. Sometimes Fmma drove out in a low basket carriage drawn by two pretty ponies, and of course always asked Mrs. Grey to accompany her. And if the roads were very good, and the weather very fine, the widow would accept the invitation. They would return from the drive in time for luncheon. After luncheon, there was working and reading in the old lady's room until dinner-time. After dinner, Mrs. Cavendish took a nap in her big arm-chair by the fire. Mrs. Grey went to her room and slept two or three hours. And Emma Cavendish read to herself And her soli- tary reading at this time was very peculiar. It was all upon one subject-THE 'UlTU1,E LIFE. Ever since her father had passed away to the "Better Land," the "Spirit World," "Paradise," "Heaven "-what- ever it might be called, wherever it might be sought-the future life and all concerning it possessed an all-absorbing interest for her mind. She searched the Scripture for indices of its nature. And she found in the Holy Word, and among the writings of the most intelligent commenta- tors upon it, very much to enlighten and comfort her. AT BLUE CLIFF HALL. AAJ Whereas before, all had been vague, now much seemed very real. Thus two or three hours of every afternoon were passed by our young Emma. Then came the reunion at the tea-table, which was always set in the old lady's room, when Emma awoke from her heavenly dream and the others from their natural sleep. Soon after tea, old Mrs. Cavendish retired.- Then Emma went into the long dining-room, where-she gathered all the household servants together, and also as many of the plantation hands as chose to attend, and she read to them for an hour or two from some entertaining or instructive book, ending the-reading with a chapter from the Bible. This was also a time of much peaceful: happi- ness to Emma, who knew that she was giving pleasure to these poor creatures, who looked forward through all their day of toil to these two hours of evening recreation. Mrs. Grey took little or-no part in all this. She hated the horseback rides in the morning over the rugged moun- tain paths, and the little sewing circle in the forenoon in the old lady's room, the afternoon readings, and, above all, the gathering of the servants in the old dining-room in the evening. She avoided all this whenever she could decently do so. She idled away much of her time in arranging and rear- ranging her magnificent wardrobe, and gloating over the splendid jewels, costly shawls, and fine laces, that were so many "testimonials" from friends and dupes who had wasted alike their affections and their means- upon her, and in wondering how long it must be before she dared wear any of these "braveries." -Especially there was a camel's hair shawl, the last gift of Governor Cavendish to her, that made her eyes and heart ache, not with regret 25 page: 402-403[View Page 402-403] and sorrow for the' loss of the generous giver, but from the wish to wear it and display it to admiring eyes. Now she was doing penance in the heaviest and black- est bombazine and crape. And she felt sure that if she should remain at Blue Cliffs she must wear mourning for at least three years, or utterly forfeit the old lady's confi- dence and esteem. If she should remain at Blue Cliffs for three years? Poor creature I She was scarcely sure of remaining there three daysl Any day might bring a letter from Laura Lytton exposing all her depravity. And in the utmost anxiety she looked from day to day to meet her doom. In a home like this she could not know an hour's happiness. And yet she might have gained courage from the fact that though every week brought letters from Laura Lytton to Emma Cavendish, in no letter was the name of Mary Grey even mentioned. Once Mrs. Grey put this question plumply to Miss Cavendish: "Does Miss Lytton know that I am staying here?" "Yes, dear. I told her so in the first letter I wrote her after our arrival," answered Emmha Cavendish. "How is it then, I wonder, that she never sends her love to me?" "I don't know," answered Emma, hesitatingly. "She never mentions me at all, I believe?" "No, dear." "I think it very strange; don't you?" Miss Cavendish hesitated. She did not wish to give pain by saying that Laura Lytton never liked Mary Grey. After a short pause and a repetition of the question by Mrs. Grey, she answered very gently: "You know that you and Laura were never very inti- AT' 15 L U CLIFF 1 A' A LL. 4U mate. I suppose that is the reason it does not occur to her to write of you." "May be so," said Mrs. Grey, and the conversation stopped. And now, besides all her other troubles and vexations, the beauty was pining for the want of admiration, the co- quette was dying for a flirtation. 'Since her fifteenth year, she had lived on admiration andfor flirtation. Even at the well-ordered Lady's College of Mount As- cension, she had managed to drive a four-in-hand flirta- tion with three grave professors and a minister of the gospel. l In the Government House in the city, she had feasted on admiration and revelled in flirtation. And now here, for three months, she had been cooped up in an old country house with an aged woman, who was given up to her Bible and her prayer-book, her tambouring and shagreening, and a young lady who was devoted to reading visionary books about Heaven and to I' improving" ill-savored darkies on earth, and whose only recreation was a morning gallop over the mountains, or a pony drive through the forest. Few visitors came to the house. And these were most- ly ladies on calls of condolence. No gentlemen came, except Mr. Fergusson, and he only on business. Mary Grey wondered if there were no marriageable or flirtable men in the neighborhood; she felt that she must flirt or die, and so hinted to Emma that she had better re- turn a few of the calls that had been made on the family, to which Emma replied: "When Lent is over, and Laura Lytton comes down to spend the Easter holidays with us, I shall go out and also receive company at home for her sake,? This answer was bitter-sweet to the widow; weet in v 1 ^' \ page: 404-405[View Page 404-405] 404 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. its promise of society, with all its possibilities of winning admiration, and getting up flirtations and so forth; but it was bitter in its reminder of Laura Lytton's impending visit and its dreaded exposures. However, as this was only the second week in Lent, the Easter holidays were a full month off yet. She would watch. the signs of the times in Emma's face and manner; and if she should discover any indications in either that Laura Lytton had, given her a hint by letter of any reve- lations to be made in person concerning herself, Mary Grey, then she could invent some excuse, and leave the house before the storm should burst. For this exigency she saved up all the money Emma gave her. But oh I it was dreary work trying to live at Blue Cliffs this dismal, thawing, sloppy, slushy season of early spring. And what made the matter much worse, was this: On the very first week of their arrival at Blue Cliffs there had come a sudden thaw and a great freshet, that had carried away the bridge across the Mad River, and the turnpike road between Blue Cliffs and Wendover, and cut off all direct communication between the two places. The Cavendish family could not even get to their parish church at Wendover on Sunday, or even send to the post- office to mail or to receive letters, except by a route so circuitous that it took' from morning till night to go and return. But for the family there was no visiting or receiving visits, no shopping, no church-going. And to Mary Grey, who had no resources of occupation or amusement within herself, this life was like a purgatory. CHAPTER LXV. A REAPPEARANCE. NE day Emma came to her with beaming face. "I bring you good news, Mrs. Grey. Our road commissioners are at work building the new bridge across Mad River this week. They expect to have it so far com- pleted as to allow vehicles to pass over on Saturday next. So on Sunday, my dear, we may go to church. Are you not glad?" And without waiting for an answer, Emma went out to tell her grandmother. Yes, Mrs. Grey was very glad to be able to go to church. Not that she cared in the least for divine service, but she cared very much for displaying her beauty. She knew very well that whenever she should appear in any public place there would be a buzz of admiration. - And she anticipated with much vanity the sensation she -should create by appearing at the village church at Wendover. This was Monday. , And from this day to the end of the week Mary Grey was employed in studying, arranging, and rearranging the costume with which she intended to astonish and vanquish the natives at church on Sunday. The Sabbath morning came; and the Cavendish car- riage was drawn up before the door. The family had breakfasted earlier than usual, and Emma Cavendish, in her plain, simple suit of black bom- bazine, with al crape hat and veil, stood waiting for the appearance of Mrs. Grey. (405) page: 406-407[View Page 406-407] 406 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. At length she sent a maid with a message to the widow, to the effect that if she did not make haste they would be late. Then Mrs. Grey came rustling down stairs. And Emma beheld her with astonishment. Her whole costume was black certainly, but it was a mere mockery of mourning. She wore a rich black corded silk dress and mantle, both trimmed with deep folds of black crape, headed with a bright beading of bugles, which gleamed and glittered with every motion. A dainty, co- quettish little black silk hat, also trimmed with crape and gleaming bugles, was perched rather jauntily upon the top of her hair, which was curled, fiizzed and puffed in the last fashionable style. Tiny black boots and gloves, a snowy little cobweb of a pocket handkerchief, and a gem of a prayer-book, completed the outfit. She looked ex- tremely pretty; there was no question of that. She made a graceful apology for keeping Miss Cavendish waiting, and then followed her into the carriage. Emma was surprised and pained, but soon began to make mental excuses for Mary Grey. "She is very vain; there is no doubt of that. But then she is also very pretty, and her beauty is all that she has; so it is no wonder that she should value it highly." When they reached Wendover church, they found it already very much crowded. The opening prayer was being offered. They waited at the door until it was fin- ished, and then they went up the aisle. "The Governor's pew," as it was called, was in the corner to the right of the chancel, and somewhat in the light obscure of a stained glass window. So it was not until Miss Cavendish had her hand upon the door that she perceived some one occupying a seat there. The some one was a young man, who immediately t A REAPPEARANCE. 407 arose, and with a slight bow, would have passed out. But Miss Cavendish silently signed to him to resume his seat. As this little scene was passing, Mary Grey turned pale and faint, and grasped the edge of the pew to keep from falling. , She thought the intruder was-Alden Lytton. However, with an efforfthe recovered herself, entered the pew, took her seat, and assumed the devout manner becoming the sacred place. Then, stealing a glance at the stranger again, she per- ceived that he was not Alden Lytton, though he bore a startling resemblance to that handsome young student. In the pauses of the service, Emma Cavendish became conscious that there was another clergyman. beside their pastor in the chancel. And when, at length, after the singing of the last hymn that concluded the morning service, Miss Cavendish raised her eyes, she perceived that a stranger had quietly entered the pulpit, and with his head bowed upon the Bible cush- ion, was silently praying. A tall, fine-looking, venerable man he seemed, with a reverend white head and beard. And when at length he lifted his head, Miss Cavendish discovered that he was no stranger, and recognized the Rev. Dr. Jones, who had brought Electra to Mount Ascension. He gave out his text and preached with much earnest- ness and eloquence, and was listened to with attention and- reverence, At the end of the sermon he pronounced the benedic- tion with much feeling. While the congregation was leaving the church, the young man who had come unbidden into the Cavendish pew arose and stood before Miss Cavendish, and respect-, fully apologized for his intrusion, explaining that the crowd- page: 408-409[View Page 408-409] 408 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. ed state of the church, and his belief that the family from Blue Cliffs would not attend divine service that day, had induced him to seat himself in their pew. Emma replied pleasantly that there was plenty of room,in the -pew, and that he was very welcome then, or at any other time, to occupy a, seat in it. Then Emma turned to the widow, who stood staring at the young man, and said: "Mrs. Grey, permit me to present to you Mr. Craven Kyte of Wendover, once a ward of my father." Mr. Kyte bowed very low and fixed a look of in- voluntary and unbounded admiration on the face of the beauty. She held out her dainty hand and smiled on him de- liciously, as she murmured: "I am very happy to know the ward of my dear and honored friend now in heaven." And she too bowed gracefully. And when she raised her eyes again, she saw that she had smitten this young victim also to the heart. "Shall I have the pleasure of seeing you to your car. riage, Miss Cavendish?"' inquired the young man. "With thanks," answered Emma.. And Craven Kyte attended the two ladies down the aisle and-out from the church, and' handed them into the coach. He seated Mrs. Grey-first. And as he relinquished her hand, she fired from her dark eyes another arrow that quivered in his heart. Next he seated Miss Cavendish, who said to him frank- ly and pleasantly: "We should be very glad to see you at the Hall, Mr. Kyte. I hope you will feel at liberty to come to us as often as you used to do when your guardian, my dear father, was with us." A R EAPPEARAN CE. 409' '"I thank you very much, Miss Cavendish. I was really anxious to come, but fearful of intruding. I shall avail myself of your leave and come with much pleasure now," answered the young man modestly and respectfully, as he bowed and closed the carriage door. The horses started; Mrs. Grey lolled back im her seat and mused. "Here is a godsend " she had the impiety to say to nerself; "a splendid young man, the very image of Alden Lytton without Alden Lytton's intolerable priggishness. And the ward of the late Governor Cavendish too, and with the freedom of Blue Cliffs." No doubt she thought he would be a frequent visitor. And, oh! what a fine time she would have with himl What a glorious flirtation she would get up! She could easily blind the eyes of two such simple women as old Mrs. Cavendish and Emma, and flirt with the handsome fellow to her heart's content. And perhaps this might go further than flirtation--if he should be wealthy enough to make it worth her while. And then she wondered if he were wealthy. As the ward of the late Governor Cavendish, he must of course have had some property, else he would not have had such a prominent man for a guardian. If he should be wealthy, the proposed flirtation should proceed much further, even to matrimony. To be sure, he might already- be engaged to some one else.' But that circumstance would not trouble her at all. - She had come between other couples and broken their betrothal only for the gratification of her own vanity. And she certainly would not hesitate to do the same thing now, especially if she meant serious, business,. True, her proceeding to such extremities might-in- deed would-shock old Mrs. Cavendish and Emma. But page: 410-411[View Page 410-411] "O A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. if she could secure a handsome and wealthy young man for a husband, she could afford to alienate them. So the first mile or two of the ride homeward was passed in silence, until Mrs. Grey, longing for some more definite information about her intended victim, exclaimed: "Emma, my dear, what on earth are you thinking about? You have not opened your mouth once since we started." I was thinking of the sermon we have heard. It was an unusually fine one," answered the young lady. "What sn intolerable prig this girl is, to be sure!" said Mrs. Grey to herself; but to Emma she observed: "( Ah, yes, I was very deeply impressed by it. So also was that interesting young friend of yours, Mr-er-er--" "Kyte," said Emma. "Oh, yes, Kyte-Mr. Kyte. Who is he?" ( He was a ward of my father." "So you told me; but that gives little information, my dear. Inhthe words of the immortal some one: -" ' Who was his father? 'Who was his mother? Has he a sister? Has he a brother P' "I suppose his father and mother must have been a Mr. and Mrs. Kyte, though I never heard of either of them, or if thy had other children who were his sisters and broth- ers,'answered Emma, smiling. "That's queer too! Does he never talk of his parents?" "He does not remember them, I presume. I believe he was my father's ward from his earliest childhood. I -know that when I could first notice and remember, he was a lad of about eight or nine years old." "Was there much property?" * en , Al REAPPEARANCE. 4" "Propertyl Indeed, I don't know. I never once thought of that." "Was he brought up in your father's house?" "Yes, until he was sent to school." "Hem! How very much like the Lytton's he looks. Don't you think so?" "There is a superficial resemblance. But Alden Lytton has a much finer, more intellectual and spiritual face than Craven Kyte." "Is there any relationship between them?" "Not the slightest, I believe. The resemblance is alto- gether accidental." "Is the young man married?" "Married? Why, no!" replied Emma) lifting her brows. "Is he engaged then?" "In business? Yes." "I don't mean that. ' I mean, is he engaged to be mar- ried?" ,!t "My dear Mrs. Gr y, you are surely interviewing me for some enterprising paper," laughed Emma. "I beg your pardon. I have been asking a good many questions, sure enough. But then, my dear Emma, we have been secluded so long that everything is news to me. You need not answer if you don't like," said Mrs. Grey, pouting a little. "Oh, I have no objection to answer. I was but jesting, my dear friend. Let me see. What was it you asked me? Whether he was engaged? Yes, my dear, he is engaged; to a very fine girl, a bright, brave girl-Mabel Taylor of the Perch Point light-house. He made my father acquaint- ed with that engagement a year ago," answered Emma. And Mrs. Grey asked no more questions., She did not at all regret the circumstance of her intended victim's en- page: 412-413[View Page 412-413] "2 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. gagement. It rather added piquancy to her pursuit of him. It was pleasant to conquer a new admirer; but it was de- lightful to supplant another woman. The carriage rolled into the avenue leading up to the front of Blue Cliff Hall, and soon drew up before the door. The two ladies alighted and went in. "Let us go up to grandma's room and tell her whom we saw at church, who preached, and all about it,as she would say," Emma proposed, as they laid off their hats on the hall table. And they went up stairs and entered the old lady's room, and drew chairs and seated themselves at her fire. "Well, my dears, and did you get to church in time?" inquired Mrs. Cavendish. "Not in very good time, grandma. The first prayer was nearly over." "Ah, that was a pity. What was the text?" "'GOD IS LOVE.' That was the text. But a stranger occupied our pulpit this morning, grandma. And it must have been known beforehand to others, though not to us; for the church was crowded-crammed." "A stranger! It is veryseldom a stranger preaches in our church. Who was he, my dear? ' "The Rev. Dr. Jones." "Jones? Jones?-Jones is a very common name. Did you hear any other, my dear?' inquired Mrs. Cavendish, with more curiosity and interest than lEmma could ac- count for. "Yes, a very uncommon one, grandma. I heard one ot the old vestrymen speak of him as Dr. Beresford Jones." Elmma was struck dumb by the effect these words had upon the old lady. "So he has come back after all these long years!" she , , * A REAPPEARANC(E. 413 murmured, in a low tone, as she clasped her hands and closed her eyes, and sank back in her chair. "Grandma!" cried Emma, in alarm, after watching her for a few moments- in silence, and seeing that she did not move. "Don't speak to'me yet a while, dear. Give me a little camphor," murmured the old lady, in a tone so low as to be almost inaudible. Emma went to a Japan cabinet, took from it a small cut-glass viol, from which she; poured a little camphor cordial into a tiny wine-glass, which she brought to the old" lady, who took it with a trembling hand and slowly sipped it. "Do you feel better now, dear grandma?" inquired Emma, as she- took the empty glass from the old lady's hand. "I was not feeling il, my dear; only you brought me unexpected news," replied Mrs. Cavendish. Still Emma looked in some uneasiness at the pale trembling, fragile old lady before her. "There, my dear, do you and Mary go now and get ready for your dinner. I have had mine. There, leave me to myself. I suppose that man will be coming here to- morrow, and I must be prepared to meet him. Go, now." Emma Cavendish and Mary Grey left the room to- gether. When they had closed the door and found themselves in the passage outside, they turned and looked at each other in silent astonishment. But Miss Cavendish would not, and Mrs. Grey durst not make any comment on what they had witnessed. They saw no more of the old lady until they were. called to tea, which was always served in her room. They found her looking paler than usual, and during the meal \ page: 414-415[View Page 414-415] "4 , A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. they noticed that she spoke but very little, and when she did her voice trembled, as her hands also did when she moved them. And after tea she dismissed the two young women earlier than usual. On going down into the drawing-room, Miss Cavendish found that the evening duties of the hall footman had not been attended to. The window-shutters were not closed, the lamps were not lighted, nor the fire replenished. In some surprise at all this unwonted neglect, she put forth her hand and rang the bell. A little negro answered it. , "Where is Jerome, and why has he not seen to these rooms?" inquired the young lady. "Please'm, Uncle 'Rome's gone to Wenober to carry a letter for de ole mist'ess. He had to go off in a hurry 'fore ever he could fas'en up de house," said the boy, pulling at his woolly forelocks and bobbing his head by way of re- spectful obeisance. "Go and tell Peter to come and attend to Jerome's duties then," said Miss Cavendish.. The ebony lad pulled his wool, bobbed his head and backed out. Emma stood in the dusk before the smouldering fire, in a thoughtful attitude, until the seconud footman came in and closed the windows and lighted the lamps. Then in the glare of light she turned and met the eyes of Mrs. Grey fixed upon her with a surprised and inquiring expression. But E'mma merely took up a book and sat down to read. CHTAPTER LXVI. A MYS'1'BY w THE OLD LADY'S 2OO. THE next morning Afrs. Grey and 'Miss Cavendish went to the old lady's room as usual, for morning prayers. They found her up and dressed with unusual care, as if to receive a visitor; but she seemed not to have been rested or refreshed by her night's sleep; she was even paler and more tremulous than on the preceding evening. And instead of conducting the service herself as she usually did, she turned over that duty to her granddaughter. As soon as prayers were over she dismissed-her two companions to their breakfast, telling them that she wished to be alone all the morning, and that she would send for them when she should be able to receive them. nmmra Cavendish and Mary Grey went away much On their way down they met old Jerome, with a letter in his hand. "Whom is that for?" inquired Miss Cavendish. "For de ole Madam. It wa s so late when I fotch it, which I was keptso long a waitin' for it at Wen'over, as I didn't like to'wake up de fam'ly at that onlawful hour of h ; so Ijes' ' it till this morning to fetch up to And with this explanation th e old negro passed up stairs, on his way to the ld lad y('s room.- (415) page: 416-417[View Page 416-417] "6 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. The two young women went down to the breakfast- I x room in silence. The day was very bright and beautiful. And the morn- ing sunshine, streaming through the windows between the heavyr folds of the rich crimson damask curtains, struck sparks of fire from the silver service on the table as they sat down. Both felt that something unusual was about to happen --Emma with painful interest; Mary Grey with acute, in- tolerable curiosity. And something rather unusual for that house did happen. They had scarcely finished breakfast, and were still loi. tering over their chocolate, when the sound of wheels was heard on the avenue leading up to the house. Emma Cavendish raised her head and listened, but did not leave her seat. Mary Grey got up and went to the window and looked between the folds of the crimson curtains. lA rather shabby little close carriage, which Mrs. Grey recognized as being the one "hack" of the "Reindeer" at Wendover, drew up before the house. The door opened, and a tall, gray-haired, most venerable looking man, clothed in- clerical black, whom Mrs. Grey immediately recognized as the officiating nminister at the Wendover church on the day before, alighted and came up the steps. Apparently he was expected, and seen by some one in the hall, for he was immediately admitted without knocking. "It is the clergyman who preached yesterday," said Mrs. Grey, turning to Emmna Cavendish and volunteering the information. "The Rev. Dr. Jones. Yes; we both heard grandma say that she expected him. I suppose they were old ac- quaintances calmly replied Miss Cavendish. "She was very much disturbed when she heard of his A MYST ERY IN THE RO-OMD... 417 being in this neighborhood, don't you think so?" inquired Mrs. Grey, taking courage to chatter. "My grandmother is very infirm. It does not take much to upset her, answered Miss Cavendish coldly. "Yes; but I think she was more agitated by the arrival of this stranger at Wendover than she was by the death of her only son," persisted Mary Grey. Emma Cavendish made no reply. "And oh-by the way-the Rev. Dr. Jones! Why, that is the very same name of the old gentleman who brought Electra-'Electra Nobody--to Mount Ascension in such a strange, sudden manner I I did not see him then myself, so I cannot tell if this is the same man, but I know- that he bears the very same name." "A very common name," observed Miss Cavendish. "My dear, Jones is a very common name; but is the Rev. Dr. Jones so very common? And Mrs. St. John de- scribed her strange visitor as a tall, gray-haired, venerable looking man. And this gentleman answers the description. And bears the same name. I think he must be the same man. What do you think?" To this direct question Emma Cavendish answered quietly and coldly: "He is the same man. I saw him at Mount Ascension, and recognized him in the pulpit yesterday." "Oh, indeed! And he is an old friend of Mrs. Caven- dish. But old as he is, he is young enough to be her son. I wonder if the old lady knows anything about his strange ward, Electra-Electra Nobody-?" inquired Mary Grey, with intense curiosity. . "I do not know. "And Mrs. Grey, I think we had best drop my grandmother's name out of this discussion," said Miss Cavendish pointedly, as she touched the bell and arose from her seat. 26 page: 418-419[View Page 418-419] "8 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. "l Mary Grey shrugged her shoulders and picked up a book, which she opened and pretended to read. After a little she withdrew from the room. Emma Cavendish went through her morning's domes- tic duties; but after that she did not, according to her usual custom, order either her saddle horse or her pony chaise for her morning ride or drive. Her grandmother had a visitor, and her own presence might possibly be required, she thought. So she renmained indoors, waiting for the visitor to depart. She waited a long time. The forenoon passed slowly away, and still the strange guest remained shut up in the old lady's room. lEmma looked out to see if the carriage that hadbrought him was still waiting. And as she looked she saw old Jerome come out of the house and speak to the coachman, and the coachnlan gather his reins and drive around in the direction of the stables. The carriage and horses were to be put up then, she perceived. The visitor was going to stay to dinner. Now she certainly expected a summons to her grandmother's room. But no summons came. At noon the old lady's bell rang. Jerome answered it. Emma met him as he came down the stairs, confidently expecting a message firom her grandmother. / "( Well, Jerome," she said, "am I wanted?" "No, Miss. The old madam have ordered luncheon to be carried up to her room for herself and the old parson." "Well, Jerome, I will go arid see that a nice one is prepared," said Miss Cavendish. And she went in search of the housekeeper, and soon sent up a repast fit for a bishop. The afternoon waned, and still the visitor lingered.- A MYSTERY IN THE ROOM. 419 The sun went down. Twilight deepended into dark- ness. Jerome came in and closed the shutters and lighted the lamps. And just as he lighted the last one and filled the room with a glare of light, the sound of wheels was heard again approaching the house. "See who that is, Jerome," said Miss Cavendish ner- vously. "I know what it is, Miss. It is the carriage coming around for the parson, Miss." said the man. "Oh," breathed Miss Cavendish, with a sigh of relief. Somehow she was glad he was going. Meanwhile where was Mary Grey all this time? I will tell you. Adjoining the old lady's room was a wainscoted parlor that was sometimes used for a breakfast-room. A half- glazed sash door or window door communicated between the two rooms. But this door was usually closed and locked, and a thin white muslin curtain was drawn before its half window. Mary Grey, with cat-like stealthiness, had {been prowl- ing about the halls and passages around the old lady's room, seeking to find out the secret of the parson's strange visit, and stealing away whenever she heard the bell ring or a footstep approach. At dusk she heard the bell ring for the third time since the door had closed upon the visitor. And she slipped into'the wainscoted parlor to avoid detection. ' The room was now pitch dark. She waited with a palpitating heart until she heard the approach of old Jerome. He entered the old lady's room. And in a moment after that; room was lighted up. And the light shone through the thin muslin curtained window of the commu- page: 420-421[View Page 420-421] 420 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. nicating door into the dark room where Mary Grey had hidden herself to watch and listen, This was the chance she had waited for all day. She crept to the door leading into the passage, and softly turned the key -to prevent intrusion. Then she slipped off her shoes, and crept to the window in the communicating door. And there, hidden} in darkness herself, she peeped into the lighted room, and saw and heard all that passed in the few more minutes that the striange visitor remained. It was the leave-taking; but such a strange one I The old man knelt at the aged lady's feet. And her venerable hands were extended over his bowed head in solemn benediction. "Forgiven at last, my mother!" he said, in a voice shak- ing with intense emotion. "Forgiven and blessed, my son! my son!" she answered, while her tears fell fast upon him. "I have lived to receive this," he said, as he arose to !, his feet. "I have lived beyond the natural term of human life to give you this," she sighed. And then she put out her aged and trembling hand and drew him to her heart. And the next moment he was gone. Mary Grey remained rooted to the spot with amaze- ment. , CHAPTER LXVI. A PAMLY SECRET. For a time she stood, as a bird is said To meet the gaze of the serpent dread; And who shall tell what terrors shook Her startled soul, in that long, fixed look I C. A. WAFErLD. 3REAT'H UIESS with surprise at having scented a mys- tery, and baffled in cuiosity by having heard just so much and no more, Mary Giey stood yet a few moments longer in the dark room, listening intently. Then, when she thought the mysterious visitor quite gone, she cautiously felt her way to the door leading into the passage, and softly unlocked and opened it. The instant she did so, she stood in the full light of the hall, confronted With the Rev. Dr. Jones I "So you have been eavesdropping i" he said sternly. She stood as one petrified. She could not even scream. He took her hand, and led her back into the dark room, and closed the door. Then he drewher away to the end of the room the most distant from the old lady's apartment, and repeated his charge: "So you have been abusing the confidence of the fam- ily that protect and trust you by playing the spy to discover their secrets!" I--I thought you were gone!" she stammered inco- herently. ," No. I am here. I heard a suppressed or half-sup- ,(421) page: 422-423[View Page 422-423] 422 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. pressed breathing and moving close to the door between this and the other room as I passed to go out. I knew then that there was an eavesdropper lurking there, whom it was my duty to discover. I tried the passage door of this room, and found it locked. Then I went down stairs noisily and came back silently. I waited at the door until the eavesdropper should come forth. But I certainly did not expect to see you." "H don't know you at all!" she gasped, in terror, for she had far less courage than duplicity. "No, you don't know me at all; or at least you don't know anything more of me than that I am called the Rev. Dr. Jones. But, mark me I know you I " he said, with emphasis. I I ,She could scarcely suppress a scream, "Yes, notwithstanding the changed color of your hair, I know you well. Your hair was golden when I saw it first, and made a strange contrast with your deep dark eyes. Now it is raven black." "You--you are mistaken. You take me for some one else 1 " she faltered, trembling all over. He laughed slightly, and shook his head. C"Whom do you take me for?" she now ventured to ask. He stooped and whispered a word, at which she start- ed and recoiled. "So you see that I know you quite well," he said com- posedly. "You do not!" she burst forth, in eager yet sup- pressed tones. "I am not the girl for whom you take me. And that 4 not my name." "No? Then your name, like the color of your hair, has been changed, that is all." "I never bore the name you called me by. My maiden r . A, FAMLY SECRET. 423 name was Ross. I changed it legitimately when I mar- ried Mr. Grey," she answered, in a tone of supp:ressed fury. "So-so-so," slowly muttered the minister. "You are that widow Grey who was about to marry my-to marry Governor Cavendish when his death put an end to your plans I "I was engaged to Mr. Cavendish. He knew me well. He loved and esteemed me. And he had every reason to do so," "Had he? And so you successfully imposed yourself upon an honorable householdtnder an assumed name and character, and with a design upon the hand and fortune of ' the widowed master of the house?" ",You are a wretch to talk to me sol I don't know who you are. But I know you want to injure, yes, to ruin me!" she burst forth, in passionate, yet half-suppressed tones. "Do not be alarmed. I shall not expose you to this family. Death frustrated your designs upon the Governor. And really I think it was infinitely better for all concerned that he should have died, than that he should have married you. But that misfortune having been prevented, I do not see that you can do any more mischief here. There are no more men here to be drawn down to their destruction. So, as your being here in this pure home may really keep you out of sin, I shall leave you here in peace, at least for the present. But do not let me find you out in eavesdrop- ping again," he said. And then he turned and left her so suddenly that he was gone before she knew that he was going. Then she doubled and shook both her little fists after him as she ground her teeth with impotent rage. And then she slipped out and flew up into her own room, where she relieved her feelings with a burst of hysterical weeping. page: 424-425[View Page 424-425] CHAPTER LX V11. THE SECRET REVEALED. And scenes long past of joy and pain \ Come wildering through her aged brain.-Scowr. A T this same hour old Mrs. Cavendish sat meditating in her arm-chair, by the fireside of her chamber. She had sat thus since her strange visitor had left the room. She heard nothing of the singular scene going on in the extremity of the adjoining room. 'Neither did she hear him, when he went softly down the stairs the second time. But she heard his carriage wheels roll away on the hard gravel of the drive, and then she put her hand to the bell rope and pulled it. Jerome answered the summons. "Go and ask Miss Cavendish to come to me," said the old lady. The seryant bowed and went out. In a few minutes Emma Cavendish came into the room. She came up to the old lady and kissed her, and then she sat down on a stool beside the arm-chair, and slipped hei hand in that of her grandmother. "You know that I h4ve had a visitor with me all day, Emma?" the old lady commenced. "Yes, grandmother." "Do you know who he was?" "The Rev. Dr. Jones, grandma." "And who is he besides being Dr. Jones? Do you know, dear?" (424) THE SECRET REVEALED. 425 "No, ma'am." "Emma, he is my eldest son." The girl looked up at the old lady in blank amaze- ment. "You look astonished. -But did you not know,- my child-had you never heard that I was a widow when I married your grandfather, General Cameron Cavendish?" inquired the old lady. "Yes, ma'am, I had heard it; but it seemed so very, very long ago, I never thought about it at all. It al ways seemed to me as -if you had never'been any other than I had always known you, my grandmother, Mrs. Cav- endish;" said the young lady. "And you never heard, perhaps, that I. had a son by that first marriage?" - "Never!" exclaimed lEmma, with no abatement of her surprise. , "Yes, my child. I had not only been a wife, but a mother, as well as a widow, for year before 'I ever saw your grandfather." o / "Will you tell me all about it, dear grandma?" "I sent for you for that purpose, my child. So now you must hear a little bit of strange family history." "It will interest me, dear grandma." A "It is a tale of old times, child." "Well, dear, you know I was born a Lorimer, of Lou. doun county; and that, like you, I was an only daughter, though not like you an heiress.", "Yes, ma'am." "I had several brothers. My portion would be but small. It was for that reason my parents wished me to make a wealthy marriage. I was young; I had no prefer- 'ences, and therefore I obeyed them and accepted the offers of Mr. Beresfoid Jones of the Beresford Manors. He was l.. " page: 426-427[View Page 426-427] 426 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. old enough to have been my own grandfather. He was sixty. I was just only seventeen. "Dear me I " exclaimed Emma. "Yes, my child. But he made me a right good hus- band. And I honored him for his wisdom and loved him for his goodness. And our marriage was a right down comfortable and happy one. That is one reason, my dear, why I so easily understood the attachment between your dear father and pretty little Mary Grey, you know." "Yes, grandma." "Well, Emma, the happy marriage did not last very long. Four years afterward Mr. Beresford Jones died, leaving me a young widow, with an only child, a son three years old. He had made a will bequeathing the whole of his property to me and my son, share and share alike, un- , conditionally, and making me the trustee of the estate and the guardian of the heir." "That was a great responsibility for one so young, grandma." "Yes, my dear, it was. But I remained at Beresford Manors, taking care of the estate and looking after the education of my boy, for whom I had engaged a compe- tent tutor. All my social pleasures then consistedjn visit- ing and receiving visits from my country neighbors, oc- casionally shopping in the village, and weekly attendance at. church." "A quiet life,- grandma." u A very quiet life, my dear; and so it might have con- tinued to be for many years and perhaps up to this very time, had I not, one day at a dinner party, met Cameron Caven- dish, then a very handsome young colonel of cavalry. My dear, I think we took a liking to each other at first sight; I do indeed. Well, my darling. I will not dwell upon that old love story, but tell you at once, that after THE SECRET REVEALED. ' 427 an acquaintance of only five weeks, we were married. Our marriage was Certainly a very hasty one." "But if family traditions are true, it was a very happy one," said Emma. "A very happy one, my dear child.) In the twenty- five years we lived together, there was never a cloud over- shadowed our heaven of love. He even took my son into his heart, and loved him as his own child. One year after our marriage, I was so happy as to place in his arms a boy of his own, my second son, Charles Cavendish, your father. We had several other children, dear Emma, but all except Charles and Susan-your Aunt Wesley-were taken to Heaven." "And therefore you have not lost them, but they are waiting for you there I " said Emma, sweetly and solemnly. "Yes; waiting for me there!" echoed the old lady. And she' fell into a reverie, which continued until Emma said: "Go on and tell me more, dear grandma." u Ah, yes. Well, the girl was ten years younger than the youngest boy, you know, and so they had nothing to do with her. They, the boys, -were nearer of an age. Beresford was four years older than Charles, but Charles was the brighter of the two. So they studied under the same tutor at home, and afterwards entered college to- gether." The old lady paused for breath. And Emma already suspected a preference in the mother's heart \for the son of the second and the love marriage over the son of the first and conventional union But of course she gave no expression to this thought. Mrs.'Cavendish resumed: "Beresford had very early displayed much self-will and insubordination. I had hoped that college discipline would ; page: 428-429[View Page 428-429] 428 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. have corrected that. But bless you, child, that was because lI knew nothing about college life, and the wide latitude it affords young men. He grew C at college, and spent no end of money. And then at fast came the heaviest blow that ever fell upon my head." The old lady paused, dropped her face upon her hands, and even after this great length of time, wept over these early sorrows. Emma tenderly caressed her. At length she continued: "My child, he, my son Beresford, fell in love with the daughter of his washer-woman! He did indeed, my dear." The old lady paused, and looked at Emma for sympa- thy. But the young girl only pressed her hand in silence "And he even wrote to me and told merall about her, and asked my leave to marry her I What do you think of that?" "I think he was frank and straightforward and honor- able in owhat he did, my dear grandma," said the young lady, bravely and truly. "You do! You, the daughter of an old and noble housel I am astonished-yes, amazed-yes, shocked at you, Emma Cavendish! But as for'me, I think, nay, I know that he was very foolish, reckless, and even impudent in proposing to me a low-born girl as a daughter-in-law,"' said the old lady bridling. "'Is not this the son of Joseph the carpenter?"' mur- mured Emma reverently to herself "What are you muttering about?" querulously in- quired the old lady. ^ "Only quoting a text of Scripture, dear grandma." "What's that to do with what we are talking about? -not but what I have the greatest respect for the Scrip- ture. And I am very glad that you can quote it, Emma. , THE SECRET REVEALED. 429 But as I was saying, my dear, I considered it very foolish, reckless and impudent in my son to propose to me the daughter of his washer-woman as my daughter-in-law! I wrote to him and told him just that much." "And then, dear grandma?" "Then he wrote back to me, saying that he loved the girl-really loved her you know--and had won her love, and that he was in honor bound to her. That he should await my consent with prayers for it, and with patience, until he should be twenty-one. The inference was that then he should marry her. What do you think of that?" "I think, dear grandma, that he might have been really bound to her in honor." "Bound to her in honor? I would like to know how he, my own minor son, could have been bound to her in honor, while he was still bound to me in obedience? ' "I can conceive that he might have been, though I can- not explain how," answered Emma frankly. "No, I don't suppose you can. Well, I wrote and told him that after he should have married the washer-woman's daughter, whether that should be in his twentieth, twenty- first, or a hundred and twenty-fist year, he must never I think of presenting himself to me again; that I gave him nis choice now between me and the low-born girl he 'dreamed of marrying; that his choice, once made, must be irrevocable." "And then, dear grandma?" "He wrote to me saying that he could never choose between two whom he loved --'two whom he loved! coupling me, a gentlewoman born, with that low crea- ture!-and that he should always love both--both' and he should never desert either--'either' putting me again on the level with her. Now what do you think of that, my dear?" page: 430-431[View Page 430-431] 430 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. ,Emma was silent. "I ask you what you think of that.?" persisted the old lady, fixing her eyes firmly upon the face of the young girl. "Dear grandma, was her humble origin the only fault you had to find with my uncle's love?" "The only fault? Why, that fault included all others --poverty, ignorance, vulgarity. Don't tell me!" "Dear grandma-" "Hold your tongue, Emna! It was quite objection enough that she was the daughter of the college laun. dress." "Dear grandma, the God Man, the Divine Human was the son of a carpenter, and the companion of poor fisher- men," said Emma with feeling. "What's that got to do with it? Order ought to be observed in this world, and the boundaries of rank kept unbroken I King Coephatus marrying the beggar maid is all very well in rhyme, but it never would do in reason, that I can tell you?' said the unconverted old aristocrat, nodding her head. Emmna smiled, and then said: '"Go on, dear grandma, and tell me what happened next." "What happened next, dear child, was that he con- tinued to write to me as if there had been no dispute be- tween us, until his birthday came, the day he was twenty- one years old, and would enter into possession of his es- tate. I had written to him to be home on that day, so that certain forms might be properly observed in transfer- ring the. trust of the estate from the guardian to the heir; and also that we should fitly celebrate the coming of age of my eldest son." "Yes, ma'am." THE SECRET REVEALED. 431 "Well, he came; but not alone. I received word that morning that my son was in the drawing-room, waiting to see me. I went down, impatient to embrace him, and also to reason with him on his improper engagement, which I half hoped he had forgotten. Now, Enmma, just fancy my astonishment when, after he had kissed me, and expressed all sorts of kind hopes about my being in good health, and so forth, he turned around and brought out of a shady- cor- ner, where she had sat concealed, a little insignificant look- ing creature, and presented her to me, saying: "' Dear mother, will you not speak to my wife, and welcome her as your daughter?'" "He was married, then?" said Emma in surprise. "He was married! And he had actually brought his wife home to me, with the insane idea that if I once be- held her, I should fall down, and worship her, as he had done." ' Was she pretty?" "Oh, yes, she was pretty-very pretty, but not at all lady-like! In the one minute that I stood there, petrified with amazement, I saw that. She was very small and very dark, with the blackest eyes and reddest cheeks and whitest teeth I had ever seen. She was quite foreign look- ing, and I afterward heard that both her parents were Italians, though she was native born. Well, my dear, as I said before, I stood there rooted to the ground with aston- ishment for a minute. And then, when I recovered my senses, I just waved my hand to them, and turned and left the room without one word." "Oh, grandma!" "Yes, I did, for I felt insulted in my own- house and by my own son! -Even now that all is forgiven, I cannrot think of this without indignation. I went to my room, and sent word' down to my son that I could not receive his page: 432-433[View Page 432-433] 432 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. wife. Upon which he took her away in the 'Reindeer' hack in which they had come to the house. And they re- turned to Wendover, and staid at the 'Reindeer' until all the legal formalities attending his majority were gone through. Then he took her to Beresford Manors. And I never saw my son again until to-day." OHAPTER LTXIX. A DISCOVERY. ( CO H, Heaven, grandma!" said Emma, bowing her head upon her hands in sorrow and almost in shame at the hardness of this ancient lady. "No, my dear, I never saw his face again until to-day. He was twenty-one when he left me. He is sixty-two now. A period of more than forty years have elapsed." Emmna's head sank lower. She had no answer in words for all this. "But I heard flying rumors of his fortunes and misfor- tunes all the time. I heard that he lived unhappily with his gypsy looking wife; that all his children died in childhood, one after the other, except his eldest child, a girl, who grew up to be the image of her mother, and to torment him, as his plebeian wife had done, and as he had also tor- mented me. ,When she was fifteen years, of age, she ran off and married her own Italian music-master." "Shocking I " muttered Emma. "The fellow was a vulgar fortune-hunter. He met her at the city boarding-school where she was receiving her education. He expected) to get some of her father's money. Of course he was disappointed. Beresford Jones would ' \ * ,J ' A DISCOVERY. ; - 433 have nothing to say either to the undutif il daughter or to the unwo'rthy son-in-law. He renounced both." "And yet he himself had erred in the very same way l" exclaimed Emma. "Yes, and he had received the very same punishment. The only difference, or rather the greatest difference, was this: he had a large fortune of his own to fall back upon, and so could defy his parents. His daughter had. nothing at all of her own, but a few jewels, which her worthless husband soon converted into money, and squandered at the gambling houses." "All this is very painful, dear grandma," murmured' the old lady's young listener. "Yes, but not So terrible as what followed. --The abandoned fellow sunk from bad to worse, and brought his young,wife to the bitterest poverty. They both died of cholera, in extreme destitution, in the city of New York, leaving one child, an infant daughter." Emnma started slightly, and bent nearer to listen more intently. "For many years this poor child lived among the most wretched of the city paupers, and in total ignorance of her parentage." "Oh, how unspeakably sorrowful!" muttered FTmma Cavendish. "In the mea time," continued the old lady, "many vicissitudes had attended Beresford Jones and; his family. His children, as I said, had all gone. His wife died. His heart was almost broken. He left Beresford Manors, and travelled all over'the world in search of the peace he could, never find. "Did he ever find his grandchild?" inquired Fmma in breathless impatience. ' l "You shall hear. At length he'took holy orders, and 27 page: 434-435[View Page 434-435] 434 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. entered the ministry. Suffering had prepared him for the work. He became a city missionary in New York. Soon after that, gold was accidentally discovered in the moun- tains of Beresford Manors, and he became fabulously wealthy." "Oh, indeed " t, "Yes, my dear; but what was wealth to him, who had neither son nor daughter to inherit it?" "To him, a missionary among the, poor, I should think wealth would be a great deal, for good uses,"f aid Ermma, brightening. "Well, in that respect it was much. I He used it freely among the poor, until at length accident discovered to him the existence of his granddaughter." "Ah!" exclaimed the young listener, drawing nearer. "He had searched for his lost daughter through all the principal cities of the Union, and he had advertised for her in all the principal newspapers, but all in vain. Of the existence of his granddaughter he had not even the faintest suspicion until, in his capacity of City Missionary, he one day attended a school examination on Randall's Island." "Oh " gasped rlmma, clasping her hands in-breathless eagerness. "Oh, do go on! He saw her there?" "The brightest pupil in the highest class struck him at first sight with an electric thrill. It seemed to hiin, as he told me to-day, that the love of his" youth- stood resuscita- ted before him. Yet he knew that this child could not even be his lost daughter who was, or had been, the fac- simile of her mother. Who was she then? That remarkable face, so unique, so piquant, so sparkling and electric, could not belong to any other race than that of his gypsy wife." "Electra! Electra!" murmured Fmma to herself. "Well, my dear child, to make a long story short, he instituted cautious inquiries, which resulted in- undoubted A DISCOVERY. 435 conviction that this girl was the child of his lost daughter. Within a week he, removed her from Randall's Island and placed her at. Mount Ascension, where you were then at school, Emma. Do you remember her-Electra?" "Of course I do, dear grandma. She was one of my greatest favorites. She was with me last Christmas, at the Government House " exclaimed Emma eagerly. "Ah, was she? One of your Christmas circle of school. mates that I heard you talking about?" "Yes, dear grandma, she was there with Laura Lytton and Mrs. Grey." "Indeed, dear. Well, to go on: Beresford, after putting the child to school, went immediately to Europe on business connected with the Philanthropic Emigration Society. He has just returned. A fancy to visit tie scenes of his boyhood brought him to Wendover for a few days. Being there on Sunday, he was invited to fill the pulpit of the parish church. You saw him there, and told me. The same evening I sent him a note by old Jerome, asking him to come and see me. He has been with me all day as you know. Now he has gone to Wendover. To-morrow hae will set out for Mount Ascension. And, Eimma, I have invited him to come back, and bring Electra to spend the Easter holidays with us here. I hope the plad will be agreeable to you." "Eritirely so, my dear grandma. You know I expected Laura Lytton also." "Then, my deal, write to Mrs. St. John for me, and ask her to send both Electra and Laura Lytton here under the protection of Rev. Dr. Jones. When he cimes again, dear child, you shall be introduced to yof uncle. I should like to have called you in and presented you to him to-day, but this was scarcely the proper time or occasion to do so; and besides, we had so much to say to each other." page: 436-437[View Page 436-437] " Of course you must have had, dear grandmother; and besides, it was much better to have told me this family his- tory first, sdo as to prepare me to meet him." " So I thought," agreed the old lady. , "But, grandma, tliere was one eccentric circumstance about his introduction iof Electra into the school. He gave her no other name but Electra-no surname what. ever;' It was very odd. And it was very awkward for us to introduce her to any one as 'Miss Electra.' 'Electra who? would be the natural inquiry, whether it were spoken or not. I hope my uncle will change all that." "Her father's name was Paolo Coroni. But he does not like to call her by it, and he will not call her by any other. However, we must give her her full name now." "How came she by her heathenish name, Electra?" inquired Miss Cavendish." "It was her mother's name before her. Beresford called his own daughter Electra, because the name was so characteristic of the girl's peculiar personality; and he chose to call his granddaughter the same." "You will like Electra when you see her, grand- mother."-- " Yes. Now go, my dear; I want to take a nap in my chair."' Miss Cavendish kissed the old lady, and left the room. In the paprlor below she found Mrs. Grey; who had in some measure recovered her equanimity. But the young lady entirely upset the widow's nervous system by pleasan'tly ex6laimlng. "We atire to have Laura Lytton and Electra here at Easter, Mrs. rey.-" And as the Rev. Dr. Jones is also coming, tthn grandma may be induced to invite Alden Lytton here to meet his sister. It will make .a very pleas- ant party. "I'I hope' 'yo" will enjoy it."' CHAPTER T1XX, THE WANBD'RPRIS Ei'l'uj/. Long years have seen him roaming, A sad and *ear way; Like tiaveller tired at gloaming Of a sultry summner day. A But soon a home will greet him, And wide its portals be; -And ready indess meet him, And lpeace that will- not flee. B T not long did Mary Grey give way to despondency. Most probably, she reasoned, Alden Lytton, in the true nobility of his soul, had forborne to expose her tur- pitude to his sister Laura, whom he had stated to be igno o rant even of the relations between himself and the widow. So Mary Grey said to herself that she would not:bor- row trouble. She would stay and enjoy herself in the comfortable country seat of the Cavendishes, and accumu- late money from the liberal allowance made her by the heiress. And if Laura Lytton and Emma Cavendish remained in ignorance of the fatal treachery that had caused the death' of Charles Cavendish, she might remain as long as she pleased in her luxurious quarters, accumulating a for- tune, and running also her chance of effecting an advan- tageous marriage. And even it, on the other hand, Alden Lytton (should have told his sister, and Laura should tell Emma the fatal (W ) page: 438-439[View Page 438-439] 438 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. secret, and the "worse" should come to the "worst," it would not be so very bad. True, she would have to leave "Blue Cliffs," but then "Blue Cliffs," comfortable and even luxurious as it was, was at its best ,but a lonely, dreary, dismal old country house, shut in on all sides by mountains and half buried in woods, having-no society and affording no opportunity of flirtation. And it would be a great deal gayer to live in some city. Of course she would lose her allowance. But then she had already accumulated a considerable sum of money; her diamonds were in themselves worth a small fortune; and her rich wardrobe would last for years. Upon the whole, she was "perplexed, yet not in despair." She did not believe that Alden Lytton would accept the invitation to Blue Cliffs. Indeed, she felt sure that he would not, if he knew of her presence in the house, as he probably did from his sister's letters. She dreaded to meet Dr. Jones as much or more than she dreaded to meet Laura Lytton; but she comforted herself with the reflection that Dr. Jones had promised that he Would not expose her, and the hope that Laura Lytton could not. nd so the last days of Lent passed away. , In these last days of Lent, Craven Kyte became a frequent visitor at "Blue Cliffs." Old Mrs. Cavendish, who, confined as she was to her room, yet heard all the news of the neighborhood, and all the gossip of the house, through her granddaughter or her servants, becameg ery uneasy at hearing of Mr. Kyte's frequent visits. "What does the presuming young fellow come here for? I hope not for you, Emma," she said one morning to the young heiress. THE WANDERER'S- RETURNS 4 Miss Cavendish laughed. " Oh, no, grandma. He does not honor me with his attentions," she answered. -6 Whom then does he 'honor,' as you call it, with his attentions? or affront,' as I call it, with his impertinences," demanded the old lady, raising her gold spectacles to the top of her head and gazing at her granddaughter through her still bright blue eyes. " Ie comes after Mfrs. Grey, I think." "After Mrs. Grey! After my son's young widow-I mean my son's betrothed, who came so near being his wife, and of course his widowl The impertinent young' puppy !" said the old lady indignantly. "I must have a talk with Mary, and tell her to send the foojish, presump- tuous fellow about his business," she added, bridling. Ilmma smiled and begged her grandma not to be dis- turbed, for that Mrs. Grey could certainly take care of herself. And so the interview ended. Yes, Mrs. Grey could take care of herself. She was in no sort of danger. o . But as for the poor young man, Craven Kyte ? Day after day he found some excuse to drop in at', "'Blue Cliffs." Evening after evening he -spent in the flirt's fatal company. Like the three Professors at. Mount Ascension, like poor young Parson Lyle, like Governor Cavendish and Alden Lytton, he, in his turn, fell a victim to the baleful beauty of Mary Grey. Forgotten was his fair betrothed, the brave maiden of the light-house; forgotten 'were all his vows, his faith, his honor. Beloved only was the fascinating siren who was during him on to his destruction. One fatal evening in the last week; in Lent he broke page: 440-441[View Page 440-441] "O A BEAUTIFU'L FIEND, through all the barriers of reserve, and with awkward earnestness declared his passion for her, and besought her to be his wife. .And she? Why she laid her little white hand on his head, and wapt over him and sympathized with him, and told him that her heart was buried in the grave of her-'betrothed, thisfitjie;' but that, if ever she could rally from her present despair so as to take any interest in the affairs of this life, she might possibly think of his proposal; and that if ever she should consent to marry' aiy one, it should certainly be him and no. other; but that he must not press her now. He must forget for the present the proposal he had made, and continue to visit her and be her friend as heretofore. And' he sighed 'and thanked her, and blessed her, and promised'to 'tryto school'his heart to moderation and for- bearance. ' And still, after this he'visited her every'day, while she played with him as a cat plays with a mouse, gratifying her inordinate, cruel and selfish vanity with the sight of his agonies. .- ' " And this la-sted until the -arrival of the Easter party to break up this daily tfte-A-tfte in the drawing-room. They came on the Saturday evening preceding Easter Sunday. . On- the m"orning'of that day Emma Cavendish, with an open letter in her hand, entered the parlor where Mary GOrey sat reading, and said: ' ' 'Our' visitors will be here to-night. I have a letter 'from'Laura jyttobn. She and Electra will travel under the escort of Dr. Jones. Grandma'has' also a letter from Alden'Lytt6n. H"'He declines, with' thanks, her invitation to join'his sister here," she added. .. "Ah!" said' Mary 'Grey. And she'thought: fl . . - A LISTENER. 441 "He knows that I am here, and he does not care to meet me. I wonder if he has- told Laura anything about me?" Eimma Cavendish, having gayly told her news, now danced out of the room, saying that she had .yet some preparations to make for the reception of her visitors., And Mary Grey. sat and anxiously awaited the com- ing of the evening and the arrival of the visitors that were to decide her destiny. "Does Laura know, or does she not know?" was the question that continually repeated itself to her, CHAPTER LXXT. A LISTEiBER, AND WHAT SHE T5TARD. Ever on her soul a shadow lies, Still darkest when life wears the sunniest skies; And even when with blissher heart beats high, The swell subsides into v fearful aigh.' Mbs 3a PIEB025 'VENING came at length, and fine fires were lighted x in the long drawing-room, and in the dining-room, and in the guests' chambers that were prepared for the visitors. And an elegant supper service was laid in the dining- room, ready for the luxurious supper that was being pre- pared in the kitchen. And Emmna Cavendish had sent Jerome with the capacious family travelling carriage to the Wendover station, to meet the travellers and bring them to Blue Cliffs. And Emma herself, with Mrs. Grey, sat in the parlor awaiting their arrival. * r " ".' r^', *^,- page: 442-443[View Page 442-443] "2 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND.- But as the hours of waiting passed heavily on, Mary Grey's courage ebbed. She dreaded to meet Laura Lyt. ton, lest that young lady should have heard of heir mur- derous treachery, and should, in the presence (of all her companions, give her " the cut direct." She felt that she could not risk meeting such an affront, So when at length she heard the sound of distant car- riage wheels, she arose, saying: "I think I will leave you to receive your young friends alone, my dear Emma. Doubtless you would prefer to do so." And she slipped out of the room before Miss Caven. dish could put in any reply. i Mary Grey tripped up stairs and concealed herself in an empty closet, situated between the chamber occupied by Emma Cavendish and the one assigned for the use of the two girls, Laura and Electra. Here, hidden from view, she knew she should pass ,: unsuspected, hear all that should pass between the young hostess and her guests, whether they should talk together in the one room or the other. She had not remained long in her hiding-place before she heard the carriage roll up to the front door, the door : quickly thrown open and the merry entrance of the Easter party, attended by the joyous greetings, as hostess and :; visitors embraced. And soon they all came up stairs together. And soon they were all gathered in Laura and Electra's room, where, (the door being closed, they thought themselves alone, aid Secure from outside intrusion and observation. And then ;:i -efollowed the senseless, sweet chatter of young girls meeting ; ,a after absence. ; And then at length Mary Grey's name was mentioned. :' and the listener pricked up her ears and listened more in- tently. A- LISTENER. 443 It was the voice of TEmma Cavendish that she heard speaking. "Yes, she,-is here still, and is to stay here always. I know, Laura, dear, that you never -liked Mrs. Grey. And even I, who liked her at first, began to dislike her very much when I thought she was going to be my step-mother. And I fear I might have been unjust to her then. But, Laura, listen! My dear father loved her--loved her ten- derly. And since his death, I have taken her to my heart for his sake. Why, Laura, dear, I would cherish a dog that papa had loved. And shall I not much more cherish the woman that he adored? But perhaps I should not have felt so if he had lived. But death makes a great dif- ference, Laura, love. Now try to like her for my sake, and for my dear father's." - "Emma, dear, I shall be very good to Mrs. Grey, sincd you wish it. And I shall try to believe in her also, since I really have no substantial reason for doubting her," an- swered Laura Lytton pleasantly. Mary Grey's heart bounded with joy. She gave a great sigh of relief. So Laura Lytton had "no substantial reasons for doubt. ing her"-Mary Grey. Laura had said it. Therefore it was true. And, therefore,' also, Laura had never heard of that horrid scene between herself and Alden which had ended in the fatal stroke that caused the death of Charles Cavendish. And she, Mary Grey, had lost nothing of her status with the family of Cavendish. With the '" sigh of a great deliverance," she arose and stole forth from the clbset by the door leading through Emma Cavendish's room, which was then empty. She hurried to her room, which was now well warmed and well lighted, and she stood before the mirror to put a page: 444-445[View Page 444-445] "4 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. few finishing touches to her toilet-for was there not a gentleman in the Easter part&y?&' Was there 'not the Rev. Dr. Jones there to be fascinated? True, he was over sixty :years:old; true, he seemed to have detested her,'and to be her enemy. But what of that? He was the only available man to flirt. with for that evening, and she knew the power of her beauty to win him over; and therefore he must be victimized. So with her' dress perfectly arranged, and her face all dressed in smiles, she descended to the drawing room, where the young people were already gathered. CHAPTER TXX[IIT THE EASTER PARTY. "Give er a slight flirtation Byithe light of the chandelier, With music to fill up the pauses. i And nobody very near." A SHARP glance sent around the room showed her that the Rev. Dr. Jones was not present. And a quick intuition told her truly that he was in his mother's room. . ..,. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Miss Cavendish kindly came forward to meet 'her, and -took her hand, saying:s - l "Come in, Mrs. Grey. We are waiting for you. Here is Laura and Electra, both4 looking so well and happy." Reassured by these pleasant words, Mary Grey went smilingly forward and greeted the two young ladies, each with a kiss, - . And, she even commanded herself sufficiently well to say to Laura: - . .... THE EASTER PAR-TY. 445 "We had hoped to have your brother here also, Miss Lytton." "Yes, Ihad hoped so too. It was so very kind and thoughtful in Mrs. Cavendish to think of asking him. Was it not?" said Laura, "It was like her dear self," smiled Mary Grey. I "And after all he wouldn't come; said he couldn't; that he had to read hard all the holidays, so as tp make up. for lost time, and to be prepared to pass his examination in July. It is a great nuisance, is it not?" "It is perfectly abominable!" put in Electra. "At this moment old Aunt Moll, the oldest and most esteemed female servant in the family, entered the room, and courtesying with old-fashioned deference, said: "Miss Eammy, honey, de ole Madam 'sires for to, see you in her own room, and likewise Miss Mary and the young ladies." Miss Cavendish immediately arose, requesting her com-;. panions to accompany her, left the drawing-room, and con- ducted them to her grandmother's chamber Although it was rather:later than the old lady's; usual hour of retiring to rest, they found Mrs. Cavendish still. . sitting in her fireside easy chair, dressed with, unusuall care and taste, and lookin better and brighter than Emma had seen her for years, , . . .' The Rev. Dr. Jones stood near her on thepg, with his back to the fire. . "Come in, my dears. ETmma introduce your friend," said the oldcady kindly. . Miss Cavendish took Laura's hand and presented her by namee. "I am glad to see you, Miss Lytton. Your family and Emma's have been friends for centuries,"' said Mrs. Caven- dish, offering her hand. page: 446-447[View Page 446-447] "6 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. Laura Lytton courtesied very low, and kissed the of. fered hand of this ancient grande danze, as if it had been the hand of a queen. But the old lady drew the'young girl to heir bosom, and embraced her with much tenderness. Then Emma tooWl Electra's hand to present her. But the old lady forestalled the action. "No, my darling Emma. It is I who must introduce this young lady to your young friends, aye, and to herself too, in a character in which she has not hitherto been known to any, not even to herself." Mrs. Cavendish paused for a moment and looked from the curious and expectant faces of her young listeners to the astonished face of the girl who stood before her. Then taking the hand of Electra, she drew her to her bosom and embraced her fondly, saying: "Come to me, my dear child. This is your home for evermore." And then releasing her, and turning her around to the others, she said: "Young ladies, I am over eighty years of age, and have lived to see my great-grand-daughter a young woman. This is she-Electra Coroni. She is the granddaughter of my good, long absent son here, Dr. Beresford Jones." At these words the youthful party turned their eyes on the Rev. Dr. Jones, who smiled and bowed gravely. Electra's face grew white and red again, and she sank upon the foot cushion at the old lady's feet, dropped her head upon. her hands, burst into tears, and sobbed softly. The old lady laid her hand upon the girl's shining hair, and kept it there for a little while, during which no one spoke, and no sound was heard but the soft sobbing of Electra. The announcement that had been made was totally un- THE EASTER PARTY. 447 expected by Laura Lytton and Mary Grey, and their faces expressed the utmost astonishment. Truly Mary Grey had, by eavesdropping, overheard Mrs. Cavendish call Dr. Jones her son, and had thought that she had discovered a mighty family secret, which would be of use to herself some day. But this had given no clue to the secret of Electra's parentage, and thus she was as much taken by surprise as was .Laura Lytton and Electra herself. Mrs. Cavendish was the first to break the- silence. "I deemed it right, young ladies, to call you here and communicate this piece of intelligence at once, so as to put all matters upon a right base to begin with. And now, my dears, as my health is but feeble, and I need to retire early to bed, I will dismiss you to your evening amuse- ments, with the hope that you will find your visit .here as pleasant to yourselves as it is welcome to us. Good-night." And the old lady held out her hand with a blending of friendliness and'old-fashioned formality. Emma, Laura and Mrs. Grey, in turn, took and kissed the kindly hand, and turned to leave the room. But Electra still sat on the cushion at her grandmothers feet, with her face buried in her hands, sobbing softly, until the old lady stooped over her and whispered: "My dear child, does it affect you so much as this to have found your family and friends?-" "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" sobbed Electra. "Come, try to calm yourself. Rise and go with the young companions to whose society you are accustomed. You will all have a great deal to say to each other after this. And you will recover calmness in their company sooner than any where else." And with these words, the ancient dame raised her youthful descendant to her feet, and turning to her grand- daughter, said: ' page: 448-449[View Page 448-449] A BEAUTIFUL F IEND. " Come, Emma, take your cousin here away with you, and be good to her." Miss Cavendish took Electra's hand, and said pleasantly: "Come, my little cousin. We have always been friends, and now I am very glad to find that we are such near relatives," And the weeping girl, weeping for joy rather than grief, suffered herselfto be led away by Emma Cavendish. Mrs. Grey and Laura Lytton were following, when the old lady suddenly uttered a low exclamation that stopped them. "Come here, Mrs. Grey, my dear. I beg your pardon. And yours, also, my son," she said, turning to Dr. Jones. "The absorbing interest of receiving the child Electra made me forget the common courtesy due to others. Mrs. Grey, permit me to present to you my eldest son, Dr. Beresford Jones. He has been an absentee and a traveller for many years. And his return now fills my heart with joy. My son, this is Mrs. Grey, once the dear friend and betrothed bride of your late brother. Their marriage was prevented only by his death. Receive her, therefore, as a sister." And the old lady took the hand of Mary Grey and placed it in that of Beresford Jones. What Dr. Jones was about to say or do, under the cir- cumstances, I do not know; probably something rather unpleasant to the young widow; but Mary Grey, as she gave him her hand, lifted her beautiful dark eyes, her pleading, subduing eyes, to his face, and he simply released her hand, and said gently: "I have met this lady before." "Ahl to be sure. At the school where you went to place Electra. She was a teacher there at the time, as I have heard," murmured Mrs. Cavendish to herself. "Ah!" thought- Mary Grey, "he was going to sneer when I was introduced to him. But I only looked at him, and he could not do it. I shall have him at my feet yet, for all his gray hairs." "There, my children, old and young, an old lady's in- valid chamber cannot be the most cheerful place in the house for you to spend your evening in. And besides, doubtless you are tired and hungry, and your supper has been ready this half hour past. Take them down, Emma, my dear. Good-night, my loves," said Mrs. Cavendish, sinking wearily back in her chair. So at length they all left the room. Emma Cavendish drew Electra's hand within her arm and pressed it affec- tionately. "The strange girl returned the caress, but then slipped away from the side of her cousin, and went and put her hand through the arm of Dr. Jones and walked down with him. "Grandpapa," she inquired, "why was it that you put me to school without any other name than Electra ?" "Because, my child, you must remember that I very much disliked your father's name, and would not call you by it. That dislike has only now been reasoned away by my good mother. You are Electra Coroni." "My father was a foreigner, then ?" "An Italian dancing-master, whose acquaintance your mother formed at her boarding-school. But your mother was my daughter, a lady. Both your parents died in your early infancy, leaving you in much destitution. That ac- counts for your having been lost in New York, and having 'fallen among thieves,' while you were yet too young to bear your parentage in memory. I had lost trace of my unhappy daughter for many years; so that when at length I sought her, I could not find her. She had in fact been 28 page: 450-451[View Page 450-451] 450 A BEAUTIFUL FIEND. dead for a long time, though I did not know it then; did not know it in fact until accident revealed to me the fact of your existence, and gave -le the clue that I followed back- ward for years into the history of your mother's married life. And, Electra, let us drop the subject for the present,' said Dr. Jones, as he led the young lady into the supper- room, where their companions had already preceded them. The supperwas a triumph of Aunt Moll's housekeeping and culinary skill. And the hungry, travellers enjoyed it much. And after supper they adjourned to the drawing-room, where Emma Cavendish soon found'herself sitting beside Dr. Jones. "Uncle," she said, slipping her hand in his, "I hope that you will confirm grandmamma's words to Electra." "What words, my dear?" inquired the Doctor. "She told Electra that this was to be her 'home for evermore.' I hope it is to be, dear uncle. I have no sister. I should be so happy to have Electra always here. Shall she not stay?" "She shall stay until after Easter week, my dear, and then she mnust return to school, for her education is very backward for a young lady. She shall spend all her holi- days here, however, if your grandmother and yourself wish it." "Certainly we wish it, uncle. And when she leaves school finally, she shall come here to stay permanently, shall she not?" "No, my dear. Once more I am anxious to make a home of my own. While my granddaughter is completing her education, I shall be improving and beautifying our old family mansion and estate of Beresford Manors. When she finally leaves school, I shall take her there to be the mistress of the place of which she will be the sole heiress. THE EASTER PARTY. 451 But, my dear, you can exchange as many and as long visits as you please." "In that case, dear uncle, I cannot be so selfish as to urge my own earnest desire to have my cousin make her permanent home with me," said ETmma, with a smile, as she arose and went to join Laura Lytton and Electra, who were chattering away in a corner like a couple of magpies. "I hope, dear cousin, that you feel quite at home here," said Fmma, approaching her new-found relative. "No, I don't. I feel like a cat in a strange garret," answered the girl; for she seemed quite to have recovered her cheerfulness. And truly Dr. Jones was right. Her education had been sadly neglected. Meantime Mrs. Grey seeing Dr. Jones left alone, went and took her seat by his side, and with an appealing look up into his'face, she said, with childlike humility: "Oh, Dr. Jones, do not be my foeel If you--"She stopped and sobbed a little, and then recovered (herself and continued: "You cannot condemn me more than I condemn myself. But I was so young, soyoung oung And if you knew all you would not condemn me so much." "My girl," he answered, "if I had chanced to come upon the scene before my brother's death, and had found him on the verge of marriage with you, I should certainly have interfered and prevented that -misfortune by telling him precisely who and what you were. But death pre- vented that intended marriage. And now, as I said before, that seeing you can do no harm to others here, and may do good to your own soul, I shall not interfere unless I see grave occasion for doing so. Therefore be circumspect." She took his hand and kissed it, and poured the light of her soul-subduing eyes into his face, until he had to turn away from their lustre. page: 452-453 (Advertisement) [View Page 452-453 (Advertisement) ] 452 A BSAUTIrFL FIEND. Just then ERmma Cavendish 9rnd her two oompanions arose and advanced towards the couple. "Dear uncle," said Emma. "Laura and Electra feel so very much fatigued that they wish to retire, and will say good-night." "Very well, my dear. Go you also with your friends. Mrs. Grey is enough at home here to look after me," he added, with a smile, " and when I wish to go to rest, old Jerome can attend me in my room." And then the young ones kissed him good-night, and left him t6te-A-t6te with the baleful beauty, Mary Grey. The further adventures of "A BEAutiLJbL FIEND; OR, THROUGH THE FIRE," will be found related in the sequel to this work, just published, under the title of "VICTOR'S TRIUMPH." THE END. T. B PETERSON nio BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 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By CharlesLever, ..............................Cloth, 2 00 Kate O'Donoghue. By Charles Lever,..............................Cloth, 2 00 Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, ........Cloth, 2 00 Above are each in clothi or each one is in paper cover, at 75 cents each. 1 Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. X ', . m lDOI V M or DLjU LJ a.D, J. UDJI.-IVA -LUJO . f- NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. Beautiful Snow, and Other Poems. Neew Illustrated Edition. By J. W. Watson, author of "The Outcast and Other Poems." With Original Illustrations by Edward L. Henry. One volume, green morocco cloth, gilt top, side, and back, price $2.00; or in maroon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., ......$3 09 The Outcast, and Other Poems. By J. W. Watson, author of "Beautiful Snow and Other Poems." One volume, green morocco cloth, gilt top, side and back, price $2.00; or in maroon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc.,..,..,... ...... 3 0 Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Volume One. Con- taining "Hans Breitmann's Party, with Other Ballads," "Hans Breitmann About Town, and Other Ballads," and '"Hans Breitmann In Church, and Other New Ballads," being the "First,'" "Second," and "Third Series" of the "Breitmann Ballads," bound in morocco cloth, gilt, beveled boards,..................................................... 3 00 Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Volume Two. Containing 1"Hans Breitmann as an Uhlan, with other New Bal- lads," and "Hans Breitmann's Travels in Europe, with Other New Ballads," being the "Fourth" and "Fifth Serie^.-of the "Breitmann Ballads," bound in morocco cloth, gilt, beveled boards ................ 2 00 Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Being the above two volumes complete in one. Containing all the Ballads written by "Hans Breitmann." Complete in one large volume, bound in morocco cloth, gilt side,' gilt top, and full gilt back, with beveled boards. With a full and complete Glossary to the whole work,..... 4 00 Meister Karl's Sketch Book. By Charles G. Leland, (Hans Breit- mann.) Complete in one volume, green morocco cloth, gilt side, gilt top, gilt back, with beveled boards, price $2.50, or in maroon morocco cloth, full wilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., .......... 3 50 John Jasper's Secret. A Sequel to Charles Dickens' "Mystery of Edwin Drood." With 18 Illustrations. Bound in cloth,............ 2 00 The Last Athenian. From the Swedish of Victor Rydberg. Highly recommended by Fredrika Bremer. Paper $1.50, or in cloth, ....... 2 00 Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, and England. By C. H. Haeseler, M D. Bound in cloth,... 2 00 The Ladies' Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By Miss Leslie. Every lady should have it. Cloth, full gilt back,... 1 75 The Ladies' Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With "3 illustrations. By Miss Lambert. Cloth, full gilt back,.......... 1 75 The Ladies' Work Table Book. With 27 illustrations. Cloth, gilt,. 1 50 The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, paper $1.00, ot cloth,... 1 50 Dow's Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols., cloth, each.... 1 50 Wild Oats Sown Abroad. A Spicy Book. By T. B. Witmer,- cloth,... 1 50 Aunt Patty's Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of "Linda," etc. Full of Illustrations, and bound in cloth............... 1 50 Hollick's Anatomy and Physiology of the Human Figure. Illustrated by a perfect dissected plate of the Human Organization, and by other separate plates of bhe Human Skeleton, such as Arteries, Veins, the Heart, Lungs, Tiachea, etc. Illustrated. Bound,....... 2 00 Life and Adventures of Don Quixote and his Squire Sancho Panza, complete in one large volume, paper cover, for $1.00, or in cloth,.. 1 75 The Laws and Practice of the Game of Euchre. By a Professor. This is the bookl of the "Laws of Euchre," adopted and got up by the Euchre Club of Washington, D. C. Bound in cloth,.............. 1 00 j AboPte Books will be sent, ppstage paid, on receipt of Retail Pries y by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. page: 460 (Advertisement) -461 (Advertisement) [View Page 460 (Advertisement) -461 (Advertisement) ] NXEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. Treason at Home. A Novel, By Mrs. Greenough, cloth,...........$1 75 Letters from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound in cloth, 1 75 Moore's Life of Hon, Schuilaer Colfax, with a Portrait on steel, cloth, 1 50 Whitefriars, or, The Days of Charlp -the Second. Illustrated, ....... 1 00 Tan-go-ru-a. An!listorical Drama, in Prose. By Mr. Moorhead,.... 00 The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cloth,....... 1 50 Trial of the Assassins for the Murder of Abraham Lincoln. Cloth,... 50 Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 75 Consuelo, and Countess of Rudolstadt. One volume, cloth, ..... 2 00 Monsieur Antoine. By George Sand. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 00 Frank Fairleigh. By author of "Lewis Arundel,"-oloth,.............. 175 Lewis Arundel. By author of "Frank Fairleigh," cloth, ............. 1 75 Aurora Floyd. By Miss Braddon. One vol., paper 75 cents, cloth,... 1 00 Christy and White's Complete Ethiopian Melodies, bound in cloth,... 1 00 The Life of Charles Dickens. By R. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth, ...... 2 00 Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, fine binding, 5 00 Life of Sir Walter Scott, By John G. Lockhart. With Portrait,..... 2 60 The Shakspeare Novels. Complete in one large octavo volume, cloth, 4 00 Miss Pardoe's Choice Novels. In one large octavo volume, cloth,... 4 00 The Waverley Novels. NationalEdition. Five large 8vo. vols., cloth, 15 00 Charles Dickens' Works. People's 12mo. Edition. 21 vols., cloth, 32 00 Charles Dickens' Works. Green Cloth 12nto. Edition. 21 vols.,cloth, 40 00 Charles Dickens' Works. Illustrated 12mo. Edition. 34 vols., cloth, 50 00 Charles Dickens' Works. Illustrated 8vo. Edition. 18 vols., cloth, 31 50 Charles Dickens' Works. Newo National Edition. :7 volumes, cloth, 20 00 HUVOROUS ILLUSTRATED WORKS. Each one i ffll of Illustrations, by Feli 0. 0. Darley, and bound in Ctoth. Major Jones' Courtship and Travels. With 21 Illustrations, ...'. '$1 75 Major Jones' Scenes in Georgia. With 16 Illustrations, ............ 1 75 Simon Suggs' Adventures and Travels. With 17 Illustrations, ...... 1 75 Swamp Doctor's Adventures in the South-West. 14 Illustrations,... 1 75 Col. Thorpe's Scenes in Arkansaw. With 16 Illustrations............. 1 75 The Big Bear's Adventures and Travels. With 18 Illustrations, ...... 1 75 High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. With Illustrations,.... 1 75 Judge Haliburton's Yankee Stories. Illustrated,.......................... 175 Harry Coverdale's Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated, .............. 1 75 Piney Wood's Tavern; or, Sam Slick in TexaS.' Illustrated,.. .......... 1 75 Sam Slick, the Clockmaker. By Judge Haliburton. Illustrated,... 1 75 Humors of Falconbridge. By J. F. Kelley. With Illustrations,... 1 75 Modern Chivalry. By Judge Breckenridge. Two vols., each ........ 1 75 leal's Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. 21 Illustrations,... 2 50 C-iABLES L;EVER'S BEST WORKS. Charles O'Malley, ............... .... 75 Arthur O'Leary,..................... 7 Harry Lorrequer, ..................... 75 Con Cregan, ......5....... 75 Jack Hinton, ................. 75 DaenportDunn, ................... 75 Tom Burke of Oure, ................. 75 Horace Templeton, ................. 75 Knight of wynne, ............ O'Donohue .............. .....75 Kate e 75 Above are in paper cover, or a fine edition in cloth at $2.00 each. A Rent in a Cloud, ................. 50 1[St. Patrick's Eve, ........... .......... 50 Ten Thousand a Year, in one volume, paper cover, $1.50; , or in cloth, 2 00 The Diary of a Medical Student, by author "Ten Thousand a Year/' 75 9 Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt ofRetail Priee, by T. B,. Petorso & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. DUMAS', REYNOLDS', AND OTHER BOOKS IN CLOTH. The followifng are cloth editions of the followi ng good books, and they are each issued in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 each. The Three Guardsmen; or, The Three Mousquetaires. By A. Dtimas,$l 7& Twenty Years After; or the "Second Series of Three Guardsmen,"... 1 75 Bragelonne; Son of Athos; or "Third Sexries of Three Guardsmen," 1/ 75 The Iron Mask; or the "Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen,".... 1 75 Louise La Valliere; or the "lFifth Series and Enid of the Three Guardsmen Series," ........ ........se....g.............a........- 1 75 The Memoirs of a Physician. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated... 1 75 -Queen's Necklace; or"Second Series of Memoirs of a PIhysician," 1 75 Six Years Later; or the "Third Series of Memoirs of a Physecian," 1 75 Countess of Charny; or "Fourth Series of Memoire of a tPhysician'i" 1 75 Andree De Taverney; or "Fifth Series of Memoirs of a Physician*," 1 75 The Chevalier; or the "{Sixth Series and End of the Memoirs of a Physician Series,". ...............................*.............................. I 75" The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas.........,.... .... I 75 Edmond Dantes. A Sequel to the . Count of Monte-Cristo,".,...... 1 75 The Forty-Five Guardsmen.- By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,.., 1 75 The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author "Count of Monte-Cristo," 1 75 The Mysteries of the Court of London. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 Rose Foster; or the "g Second Series of Mysteries of Court of London, " 1 75 Caroline of Brunswick; or the i Third Series of the Court of Loidon, 1 75 Venetia Trelawney; or a End of the Mysteries of the Court of London,"1 '1 75 Lord Saxondale; or the Court of Queen Victoria.' By Reynolds,.....,, 1 75 Count Christoval. Sequel to "Lord Saxondale." By Reynolds........ 1 75 Rosa Lambert; or Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. By Reynolds, 1 75 Mary Price; or the Adventures of a Servant Maid. By Reynolds,... 1 75 Eustace Quentin. Sequel to "Mary Price." By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 Joseph Wilmot; or the Memoirs of a Man Servant. By Reynolds,... 1 75 Banker's Daughter. Sequel to "Joseph Wilmot." By. Reynolds, ...... 75 Kenneth. A Romance of the Highlands. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 Rye-House Plot; or the Conspirator's Daughter. By Reynolds,...... 1 75 Neeromancer; or the Times of Henry the Eighth. By Reynolds,...... 1 75 Within the Maze.. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "East Lynne,". 1 75 Dene Hollow. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of'"Within the Maze," 1 75 Bessy Rane. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "The Channings," .... I 75 George Canterbury's Will. By Mrs. Wood, author "Oswald Cray,"' 1 75 The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "Dene Hollow,"... 1 75 Roland Torke. A Sequel to "The Channings." By Mrs. Wood,...... 1 75 Shadow of Ashydyatt. By Mrs. Wood, author of "Bessy Rane,"..... 1 75 Lord Oakburn's Daughters; or The Earl's Heirs. By Mrs. Wood,... 1 75 Verner's Pride. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "The Channings," 1 75 The Castle's Heir; or Lady Adelaide's Oath; By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "Roland Yorke,".....1 75 Squire Trevlyn's Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood,..... 1 75 The Red Court Farm. By Mrs. Wood, author of "Verner's Pride,"... 1 75 Elster's Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "Castle's Heir,"... 1 75 St. Martin's Eve. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "Dene Hollow," 1 75 Mildred Arkell. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of "East Lynne,".... 1 75 Cyrilla; or the MysteriouseEngagement. By author of"Initials," 1 75 The Miser's Daughter. By William Harrison Ainsworth, ............ 1 75 The Mysteries of Florenoe. By Geo. Lippard, author Quaker City," 1 75 1W Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, by T. IL Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. page: 462 (Advertisement) -463 (Advertisement) [View Page 462 (Advertisement) -463 (Advertisement) ] CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. #'-GRE AT REDUCTION IN T'J.'SIR PRICES,.- PEOPLE'S DUODECIMO EDITION. ILLUSTRATED. Reduced in price from $2.50 to $1.50 a volume. Thi's edition is printed on fine paper, from large, clear type, leaded, that / all can read, containing Two Hundred Illustrations onl tinted paper. Our Mutual Friend, ......Cloth, $1.50 Pickwick Papets,.........Cloth, 1.50 Nicholas Nickleby, ........Cloth, 1.50 Great Expectations, ..... Cloth, 1.50 David Copperfield, ........Cloth, 1.50 Oliver Twist, ..............Cloth, 1.50 Bleak House, .............. Cloth, 1.50 A Tale of Two Cities,...Cloth, 1.50 Little Dorrit, .............. Cloth, $1.50- Dombey and Son, .........Cloth, 1.50 Christmas Stories,.......Cloth, 1.50 Sketches by "Boz,"..... Cloth, 1.50 Barnaby Rudge, .......... Cloth, 1.50 Martin Chuzzlewit,...... Cloth, 1.50 Old Curiosity Shop,.....Cloth, 1.50 Dickens' New Stories,...Cloth, 1.50 . ..... V . v .v.....o,...v vU, 1..,U .iii3UBl lBew itories,..ulotn, 1.50 Mystery of Edwin Drood; and Master Humphrey's Clock ....... loth, 1.50 American Notes; and the Uncommercial Traveller,.............Cloth, 1.50 Hunted Down; and other Reprinted Pieces, ................ Cloth, 1.50 The Holly-Tree Inn; and other Stories, ............................Clo 1.50 The Life and Writings of Charles Dickens, .........................Cloth 200 Price of a set, in Black cloth, in twenty-one volumes, .................. $32.00 t" "( Full sheep, Library style, ........ .............. ...... 42.50 " Halfcalf, sprinkled edges...... 53.00 " "i Half calf, marbled edges, ........................., 58.00 " " Half calf, antique, or half calf, full gilt backs, etc. 63.00 GREEN MOROCCO CLOTH, DUODECIMO EDITION. This i8 the "People's Duodecimo Edition" in a new style of Binding, in Green Morocco Cloth, Bevelled Boards, Full Gilt descriptive back, and Medallion Portrait on sides in gilt, in Twenty-one handy volumes, 12mo., fine paper, large clear type, and Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted paper. Price $40 a set, and each set put up in a neat and strong box. This is the handsomest and best edition ever published for the price. ILLUSTRATED DUODECIMO EDITION. Reduced in price from $2.00 to $1.50 a volume. This edition is printed on the finest paper, from large, clear type, leaded, that all can read, containing Six Hundred full page Illustrations, on tinted paper, fron designs by, Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, McLenan, and other artists. This is the only edition published that con- tains all the original illustrations, as selected by Mr. Charles Dickens. The following are each contained in two volumes. t r - 'A I f' riend ..-.......-..1. ,loh $ 3.00 Our Mutual!riend,......Cloth, $3.00 Pickwick Papers, .........Cloth, 3.00 Tale of Two Cities, ....... Cloth, 3.00 -"Nicholas Nickleby, ....... Cloth, 3.00 1'David Copperfield, ....... Cloth, 3.00 ?Otiver Twist,...............Cloth, 3.00 ,iitOhtristmas Stories,.........Cloth, 3.00 ) Bleak House,..............Cloth, $3.00 ) Sketches by "Boz," ...... Cloth, 3.00 ) Barnaby Rudge, .........Cloth, 3.00 D Martin Chuzzlewit, ....... Cloth, 3.00 ) Old Curiosity Shop, .....Cloth, 3.00 ) Little Dorrit,..............Cloth, 3.00 ) Dombey and Son ........Cloth, 3.00 ?-WEE Thke following are each complete in one volume. Ifireat Expectations,..............$1.50 I Dickens' New Stories,...Cloth, $1.50 Mystery of Edwin Drood; and Master Humphrey's Clock,....Cloth, 1.51) American Notes; and the Uncommercial Traveller, ........ C loth, 1.50 Hunted Down: and other Reprinted Pieces, .........., ......Cloth 1.50 The Holly-Tree Inn; and other Stories, ........................ Cloth 1.50 The Life and Writings of Charles Dickens,....................Cloth 2.00 Price of a set, in thirty-five volumes, bound in cloth, ........0........ $50.00 " " Full sheep, Library style ........ 68.00 " '" Half calf, antique, or half calf, full gilt backs, ete. 100.00 (10) CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. ' z GREAT' BREDUCTION IN THEIR PRIOCES.' ILLUSTRATED OCTAVO EDITION. Reduced in price fr/om $2.50 to $1.75 a volume. This edition is printed from large type, double column, octavo page, each book being complete in one volume, the whole containing near Six Hundred Illustrations, by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, and other drists. Our Mutual Friend,.....Cloth, $1.75 Pickwick Papers,......... Cloth, 1.75 Nicholas Nickleby,...... Cloth, 1.75 Great Expectations,......Cloth, 1.75 Lamplighter's Story, ....Cloth, 1.75 Oliver Twist,.............. Cloth, 1.75 Bleak House, .............Cloth, d.75 Little Dorrit,..............Cloth, 1.75 Dombey and Son,........Cloth, 1.75 Sketches by 1"Boz," .....Cloth, 1.75 David Copperfield, ........Cloth, $1.75 IBarnaby Rudge, ..........Cloth, 1.75 Martin Chuzzlewit, ...... Cloth, 1.75 Old Curiosity Shop, ......Cloth, 1.75 Christmas Stories, ....... Cloth, 1.75 Dickens' New Stories,...Cloth, - 1.75 A Tale of Two Cities, ...Cloth, 1.75 American Notes and Pic-Nie Papers, ........ Cloth, 1.75 Price of a set, in Black cloth, in eighteen volumes, ....................$31.50 " " Full sheep, Library style, ................................. 40.00 f"It Half calf, sprinkled edges, .............................. 48.00 " " I Half calf, marbled edges,.................................. 54.00 " " Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 60.00 NEW NATIONAL EDITION" OF DICKENS' .WORKS. This is the cheapest b0und edition of the works of Charles Dickens, pub- lished, all his writings being contained in seven large, octavo volumes, with a portrait of Charles, Dickens, and other illustrations. Price of a set, in Black cloth, in seven volumes,.......................$20.00 " ":. Full sheep, Library style, ............................. 25.00 " " ,.': Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 30.00 CHEAP PAPER COVER EDITION. Each book being complete in one large octavo volume. Pickwick Papers,................... 35 Nicholas Nickleby,........ ........ 35 Dombey and Son,. ........... ..... 35 David Copperfield, .................. 25 Martin Chuzzlewit,....... ..........35 Old Curiosity Shop,..., ...;.......25 Oliver Twist,........................ 25 American Notes,.... ..... ...... 25 Great Exp2ctations,....5.......... 25 Hard Ties,............. ...... 25 A Tale of'Two Cities , .......... 25 Somebody's Luggage, .....,....... 25 Message from the Sea , .......... 25 Barnaby Rudge, ...........?....... 25 Sketches by "Bos," ...... . 25 Our Mutual Friend, ;,...........,, 35 Bleak House, ......................... 35 Little Dorrit, ............,.,. ....... 35 Christmas Stories, ......... .... 25 The Haunted--ouse,. ...a......... 25 -Uncommercial Traveller, ......... 25 A House to Le , ......................25 Perils of English Prisoners, ..... 25 Wreck of the Golden Mary,...... 25 Tom Tiddler's Ground,.. ......... 25 Joseph Grimaldi, ..................50 The Pic-Nic Papers, ...... ........ 50 Hunted Down ....... ...... 5 ...... 25 The Holly-Tree Inn,............... 25 Nn Trh nrnly hfr . . .................... 25 Mystery of Edwin Drood. Charles Dickens' last work,................... * Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings and Mrs. Lirriper's Legacy,..................... 25 Mughy Junction and Dr. Marigold's Prescriptions,. 26 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CoARTIT S DICKENS. THE LIFE OF CU!AR TYRS DIK;JNS. By Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie, containing a full history of his Life, his Uncollected Pieces, in Prose and Verse; Personal Recollections and Anecdotes; His Last Will in full; 'and Letters from Mr. Dickens never before published. With a Portrait and Autograph of Charles Dickens. Price Two Dollars. (11) page: 464 (Advertisement) -465[View Page 464 (Advertisement) -465] 12 T B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. ALEXANDER DUMAS' WORKS. Count of Monte-Cristo, ..........$1l 50 Edmond'Dantes, .. ............, 75 The Three Guardsmen,.......... 75 Twenty Years After, ... ..... 75 Bragelonne, ......................... 75 The Iron Mask,......... 1 00 Louise La Valliere, ............... 1 00 Diana of Meridor,..... ......... 1 00 Adventures of a Marquis, ...... 1 00 Love and Liberty,.................. 1 50 Memoirs of a Physioian, ........$1 00 Queen's Neeklace, ............., 1 00 Six Years Later...................... 1 00 Countess of Charny, ..... .......... 1 00 Andree de Taverney, ............ 1 00 The Chevalier, ......... * .......... 1 00 Forty-five Guardsmen, ........... 1 00 The Iron Hand, ................. 76 The Conscript,.................... 1 50 Countess of Monte-Cristo,...... 1 00 Camille; or, The Fate of a Coquette, (La Dame Aux Camelias,)...... 1 50 The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. The Fallen Angel, ....:: ...-....... 75 Felina de Chambure, ............, 75 The Horrors of Paris,............ 75 Sketches in France,............... .... 75 Isabel of Bavaria, ................. 75 Twin Lieutenants,................. 75 Man with Five Wives, ........... 75 - m M m . A .. . r- -. The Black Tulip, .................. 50 The Corsicoah Brothers,........... 50 The Count of Moret, .............. 50 Mohicans of Paris, ......... ..... 50 The Marriage Verdict,........... 50 Buried Alive, ........ ............ 25 Annette; or, Lady of Pearls,... 50 George; or, The Planter of the Isle of France,...................... 50 GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS' WORKS. Mysteries Court of London, ....$1 00 Rose Foster, ....................... 1 50 Caroline of Brunswick,.......... 1 00 Venetia Trelawney,............. 1 00 Lord Saxondale, ................... 1 00 Count Christoval, ................. 1 00 Rosa Lambert,..................... 1 00 Mary Prie, ............... ..........$1 00 Eustace Quentin,.................. 1 00 Joseph Wilmot.................. 1 00 Banker's Daughter,.......;..... 1 00 Kenneth, .............'.............* 1 00 The Rye-House Plot............ 1 00 The Necromancer,................. 1 00 The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. The Opera Dancer,.......... ...... 75 Child of Waterloo,............ ...... 75 Robert Bruce,. ................... 75 The Gipsy Chief, ......... ......... 75 Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots,.. 75 Wallace, Hero of Scotland ...... 1 00 Isabella Vincent, .................. 75 Vivian Bertram, .............. , 75 Countess of Lasoelles, .... . ....... 75 Duke of Marohmont,...... ....... 75 Massacre of Glenooe, ............ 75 Loves of the Harem,............ 75 I1C Co A The Soldier's Wife, ............... 75 May Middleton, ................... 75 Ellen Percy,...... ....... , , 75 Agnes Evelyn,.................... 75 Pickwick-Abroad,................. 75 Parricide, ..................... 75 Discarded Queen, .................. 75 Life in Paris, ..................... 50 Countess and the Page, ........ 50 Edgar Montrose, .............. 50 The Ruined Gamester,........... 50 Clifford and the Actress, ........ 50 Queen Joanna; or the Mysteries of the Court of Naples,........ ........ 75 Ciprind; or, the Seorets of a Picture Gallery, .............................. 50 t* MSS PARDOE'S POPULAR WORKS. Confessions of a PrettyWoman, 75 The Wife's Trials, ................. 75 The Jealous Wife, ................. 50 The Rival Beauties, .............. 75 Romance of the Harem,.......... 7 The five above books are also bound in one volume, cloth, tfor :S4.uu. The Adopted Heir. One volume, paper, $1.50; or in cloth, ..........$1 75 The-Earl's Secret. One volume, paper, $1.50; or in cloth, ............ - 75
