Macaria, or, Altars of sacrifice
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]4,1 MAr CA RI A;' OR, ALTARS OF SACRIFIC, BY THE AUTHOR OF cBEULAH "We have all to be laid upon an -altar; we have all, as it were, Ito be subjected to the action of fire."-MELVIV ,'/Y .1 SECOND EDITION. RIC HMOND:- WEST & JOHNSON, 145 AIN STREET. 1864. ' , , , a _ r !} " .' i i- ,. t, l' r s }: , " t " i ,( l Y i/ _ ,, _ f } ,Y { r ,''t . " 1 fir ,r v t , r,:j . r :. page: 0[View Page 0] ".A - , i I , EVANS & COGSWELL, PRINTERS, COLUMBIA, $. C. 2&,L - TO THE ARMY OF THE SOUTItERN CONFIDEACY, WHO HAVE DELIVERED .THE SOUTH FROM DESPOTISM, AND WHO HAVE' GENERATIONS YET UNBORN THE PRECIOUS GUERDON OF CONSTITUTIONAL REPUBLICAN LIBERTY: TO ,THIS VAST LEcION O] HONOR, WON FQR WHETHER, LIMPING ON CRUTCHES :THROUGH THE LAND THEY HAVE SAVED AND IMMORTALIZED, OR SURVIVING UNINJURED ,TO SHARE THE BLESSING! THEIR UNEXAMPLED- HEROISM BOUGHT, OR SLEEPING DREAMLESSLY IN NAMELESS MARTYR-GRAVES O$ HALLOWED ,BATTLE-FIELDS WHOSE HISTORIC MEMORY SHALL PERISH ONLY WITH THE REMNANTS OF OUR LANGUAGE, THESE PAGES. ARE GRATEFULLY AND REVERENTLY D. DIdATED B, ONE WHO, ALTHOUGH DER4RRED FROM .THE DANGERS AND DEATHLESS GLORY 1O.F THE. "TENTED FIELD WOULD FAIN OFFER A WOMAN'S "INADEQUATE, TRIBUTE TO THE NOBLE PATRIOTIS'M AND SUBLIMk SELF-ABNEGATION 4FRHER, DEAR AND DEVOTED COUNTRYMEN '4 4t Y V 4 ' i ' " ' i . . " .' ," t '±' e ' ' ,,i' 1 c ti , ,, r e t 1 r i i . ; i , # s ' 1 F # r ' r " 4 I'tlt t 'i v . i " r' 1, ,t, ' ( _ }, , +{ ' , .,,! ' - 4 .. t , , '~ , - j. .,. i + , A y~ ,. 5 (, V, , ( L E ', r i y' f , t ' i 1 r t' ' ~ t ' t ' ' r, f " ' i Vi'i 4 +'1',tif i Sy t J kjr , i I t t ,^ , '. v d Y r , h '0. . , -, v ' ,t 1. i t . ~ r f f 1 " \ r t i t ' , 1 " i t'e, j l "t t tM _, .. i r 1.. ' i ,.V t 1 ,. , I 1 ' i . i r ', '7c page: 0[View Page 0] '' r r . CHAPTER . The town-clock was on the last stroke of twelve, the solitary candle measured but two inches from its socket, and, as the summer wind rushed through the half-closed shutters, the melted tallow dripped slowly into the bri htly-burnished brazen candlestick. The , flicTering light fell upon grim battalions of' figures marshalled on the long blue-lined pages of a ledger, and flashed fitfully on the face of the accountant as he bent over his work. In these'latter days of physical degen- eration, such athletic frames as his are rarely seen among the youth of our land. Sixteen years growth had given him unusual height and rema$kable breadth of chest, and' it was difficult to alize that the stature of manhood, had been a gained by a mere boyin years.. A gray suit (evidently home-made),'of rather coarse texture, bespoke poverty ; .and,/owing' to the oppressive heat of the atmosphere, the' -coat was thrown partially off.. He wore no vest, and the loosely-tied black ribbon suf- fered the snowy white collar-to fall away from the throat and expose its w'ell-turned outline. The head was large, but faultlessly proportion- ed, and the thick .black air, cut short and clinging to the' temples, added to its massive- ness. The lofty forehead, white and smooth; the somewhat heavy brows, matching the hue of the hair ; the straight, finely-formed nose, with its delicate but clearly-defined nostril, and full firm lips, unshaded by mustache, com- bined to render the face one of uncommon' beauty. Yet, asJie sat absorbed byhis figures, there was nothing' prepossessing or winning in his appearance; for though you could not carp at the moulding of his features, you involun- tarily shrank-from theprematurely grave, nay, austere expression which seemed habitual to them.' Hie looked just what he was-youthful' in months and years, but old in trials, sorrows, and labors; and to one who analyzed his coun- tenance, the conviction was inevitablethathis will was gigantic, his ambition unbounded, his intellect wonderfully acute and powerful. It is always sad to remark in young faces the ab- Sence of that bearning enthusiasm wliich only a joyous heart iniparts, and though in this-in- stanoe there was nothing dark or sinister; fou MAC ARI A. could-not fail to be awed by the cold, dauntless resolution which said so plainly, "I struggle, and shall conquer. I shall mount, though the world defy me." Although , he had dlored since dawn, there was no- drooping othe muscular'frame, no symptom of fatigue, save in the absolute colorlessness of his face.. Firm as some brazen mnument'on its pedestal. he sat and worked on, one hand wiel~ing the pen, the other holding down the leaves which flut- tered, now and then, as the breeze passed over them. " Russell, do you knowiit is midnight.?" He frowned, and answered.without looking up.a "Yes. " How much longer will you sit up ?" " Till I finish my work." The speaker stood on the threshold, leaning against the door-facing, and, after waiting a few moments, softly crossed 'the room and put her hand on the back of his chair.- She was two years his junior, and though evidently the victim -of recent and severe illness, even in her feebleness she was singularly like hin. Her presence seemed to annoy him, for he turned round and said hmetily ' "Electra, go to bed.' I told you-good-night three hours ago." She stood still, but silent. " What do you want ?" " Nothing." He wrote on for some ten; minutes Ionger, then closed the ledger and put it aside. The ' handle had burned low; he took:a fresh one from the drawer of the table! acid, after light- ing it, drew a Latin dictionary '0ai to'him, opened a worn copy of Hor ce, andbegan to study. Quiet as his own shadow -stood the, fragile girl behind hia chair, but as 'she *atch- ed %im a heavy sigh esoapd her. Once more he looked ip with a linger still in the 'diction- ary, and, asked impatientlf' "Why on earth don't 'you go to sleep?" can' gleep ;I have tried my bestA' my 0*lttlecosn? "Are y sick a ainmyfoP6htliedts " He stretched out his arm and drew herlose to him. "No'; but I"kno* you are up, hard i ork,: and it keeps me a*ak . If you *lpold onl let me help you.' 'i page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] -- V -S - a 6 " But you can't help me ; I have told you so time and again.You only interrupt and hinder me." She colored, and bit her lip ; then answered, - sorrowfully : "If I thought I should be weak and sickly all, my life, I would ,rather die at once and burden you and Auntie no longer." " Electra, who told you that you burdened me ?",' ," Oh, Russell! don't I know how hard you have to work ; and how difficult it is for you to get even- bread and clothes. Don't I see how Auntie labors day after day, and month after month ? You are good and kind, but does that prevent my feeling the truth, that you are working for me too? If I could only help you in some way." She knelt down by his chair and leaned her head on his knee, holding his hands between both hers. "Electra, you do help me; all day long when I am at the store your face ,haunts me, strengthens me;y I feel that I am striving to give you comforts, and when at night you meet me at the gate, I am repaid for all I have done. You must put this idea out of your head, little one ; it is 'altogether a mis- take. Do ru hear what I say ? Get up and go to sleep like a good child, or you will have another wretched headache to-morrow, and can'tbring me my lunch." He lifted her from the floor and kissed her hastily. She raised her arms as if- to wind them about his neck, but his grave face gave her no eneoura ement ; and turning away she retired to her room, with hot tears rolling over her cheeks. Russell had scarcely read half a dozen lines after his cousin's departure when a soft hand swept back the locks of hair on his forehead and wiped away the heavy drops - that moistened im. ,x.. "«My son, you promised me you would not sit up late to-night." " Well, Mother, I have almost finished. Re- member the nights are very short now, and twelve o'clock comes early." 4' The better reason that you should not be - up so late. My son, I am afraid you will ruin your health by this unremitting application." "1Why-look at me. I am as strong as an Athlete of old." He shook his limbs and smiled, proud of his great physical strength. "«True, Russell; but, robust as you are, you *can not stand~ such toil without detriment. Put up your books." ot yet; I have more laid out, and you 1us know I invariably finish all I set apart'to do. But, Mothier, your hand is hot ; you are not we."se the thin hand and pressed it to his lips. "A mere headache, nothing more. Mr. Clark was here 'to-day; be is very impatient . about the rent; I told him we were doing all we could, arnd thought that by September we should' be able t the whole. He spoke of going to see youbich I urges him not, to do, as'you were eering yourself to the utmost." ' Slie scanned his face while she spoke, and noted the compression 9( his mouth. He knew she watched him, and waiwered:with a forced smile: " Yes, he came to the store this morning. I told himwe 'ad been very unfortunate this year in losi g our only 'servant; and that. sickness had {orded us to incur more expense than usual. ever, I drew fifty dollars and paid him all I could. True,'I anticipated my dues, but Mr. Watson gave me permission. So for the present you need not worry about rent." " What is the amount of that grocery-bill you igould not let me see last week ?" ." My dear mother, do not trouble yourself with these little matters; the grocery-bill will very soon be paid. I have arranged with Mr. Hill to keep his books at night, and, therefore, you may be easy. Trust all to me, Mother ; only take care of your dear self, and I ask no more." "Oh, Russell! my son, my son !" She had drawn a chair near him, and now laid her head on his shoulder, while tears dropped on his hand. He had not seen her so unnerved for years; and as he looked down on her grief-stained, yet - resignd face, his countenance underwent a marvelous change ; and, folding his arms about her, he kissed her pale, thin cheek repeatedly. "Mother, it is not like you to repine in this way; you who have suffered and endured so much must not despond, when, after a long, starless night, the day begins to dawn." "I fear 'it dawns in clouds and heralds only. storms.'- For myself I care not, but for you, Russell-my pride, my' only hope, my brave bo,y lit is for you that I suffer. I have been thinking to-night that this is a doomed place for you, and th't if we could only save money enough to go to California, you might take the position you merit;' for there-none would know of the blight which fell upon you; none could look on your brow and dream it seemed sullied. Here you have such bitter prejudice to combat; such gross injustice heaped upon you." .. , He lifted his mother's head from his bosom and rose, with a haughty, defiant smile on his lip. " Not so; I will stay here and live down their hate. ,1Vark me, Mother,I will live it down, so surely as. I am .Rssell Aubrey, the despised son of a -. Let them taunt and sneer I let them rake up the smouldering ashes of the miserable Past to fling in my face and .blind me ; let them, and welcome!. I. will "ather up these same ashes, dry and bitter, and ltide them with sacred 'zeal in a golden urn; and I will wreathe it with chaplets that never MACARIA. die. Aye! the Phonix lies-.now in dust, but one day, the name of Aubrey will rise in more than pristine glory ; and mine be the hand to resurrect i.ts ancient splendor. "'Mens. cujus-' que is est quisque I' Menzikoff, who ruled the' councils of the Kremlihain its palmiest days, once sold .pies for a living in the streets of Moscow. 'Mens cujusque is est quisque!l' I will owe no man thanks;-none shall point to me and say, 'He was drowning in the black, seething gulf of social prejudice, and I held out a finger, and clinging to it lie lived.' - Not so ! dollar for dollar, service for Service, I will pay as I rise. I scorn to ask favors; I am glad none are tendered me. I have a grim satisfac- tion -in knowing that I owe no human being a kindness, save you, my precious mother. Go to California ! not II not I ! In this state . will I-work and conquer; here, right here, I will plant my feet upon the necks of those that now strive to grind me to the dust. I swore it over my father's coffin ! I tell you, Mother, I wifl trample otit the stigma,' for, thank God ! 'there is no free-trade measure which will ever lower the price of brains.' " " Hush, Russell; you must subdue young fierce temper ; you must ! you must ! remember it was this ungovernable rage which brought dis-, grace upon your young, innocent head._ Oh ! it grieves me, my son, to see how bitter you .have grown ; it wrings my heart to hear you challenge Fate, as you so often do. Once you were gentle and forgiving; now scorn and-de- fiance rule you."" "I am not fierce ; I am not in a rage. Lay your hand on my temples--here on my'wrist; count the pulse, slow and steady, Mother, as your own. I am not vindictive ; am noaIndian to bear about a secret revenge, ready tocon- summate iat the first propitious moment. If I should eet the judge and jury who doomed my father to the gallows, I think I would serve them if they needed aid. But I am proud ; I inherited my nature ;, I writhe, yes,, Mother, writhe under the treatment -I constantly re- ceive. I defy Fate ? Well, suppose I do: ,she has done her worst. I have no quarrel with ,her for the past ; but I will conquer her in the future. I am.not bitter; 'would I not give my life for you? Are you not dearer to me than my own soul? Take back your words, they hurt me; don't tell me that I grieve you, .Mother.",. His voice faltered an instant, and he put his arms tenderly round the drooping form. " We have troubles enough, my son,- with-, out dwelling upon what is' past.and irremedi- able. So long as you seem cheerful, I am content.' I know that God will not lay more on me than Ican bear: ias my day, so shall my strength be.' Thy will be done, oh ! my God."- There was a brief pause, and Russell Au- brey passed his hand over his ejes and dashed oil a tear. H~is mother watched him, and said cautiously: . ,7 " Have you noticed that my eyes are rapid- ly growing worse ?" "Yes, other ; I have been. anxious for some weeks." " You know\it all, then ?" " Yes, Mother." "I shall not murmur; I have become re- signed at last; though for many weeks I have wrestled for strength, for patience. ' It was so exceedingly bitter.to know that the time drew near when I'should see you no more; to feel that I should stretch out my hands to you, and lean on you, and yet look no longer on the dear face of my child, my boy, my ally But my prayers were heard;,the sting has passed away, and I am resigned.' I am'g ad we have spoken of it; now my mind is calmer, and I can sleep. Good-night, my son." She pressed the customary good-night kiss on his lips, and left hiin. He closed the die' tionary,- leaned his elbow on -the table, and rested his head on his' hand. His piercing black eyes-were fixed gloomily on the floor, and now and then his broad chest heaved as dark and painful thoughts crowded up. Mrs. Aubrey was the only daughter of wealthy and ambitious parents,'who refused to sanction her marriage with the object of her choice, and hreatened to disinherit her if she persisted in' er obstinate course. Mr. Aubrey was poor, onest, highly cultivat- ed, and, in every sense of that much-abussd word, a gentleman. His poverty was nOt ,to be forgiven, however, and when the daughter left her father's roof, and wedded the man whom her parents detested, the die was cast ; she was banished for ever from a home of af- fluence, and found that she a indeed'forfeit- ed her fortune. For this sh as prepared, and- bore it bravely; but ere 'long severer trials came upon . her. Unfortunately,' her husband's temper was fierce and ungoverna= ble ; and pecuniary embarrassments rarely have the effect of sweetening such. He re- moved to an inland town and .embarked in mercantile pursuits; but, misfortune followed him, and reverses came thick and fast. One miserable day, when from early morning every- thing had gone wrong, an importunate predi- tor, of-wealth and great influence in the com- munity, chafed at Mr. Aubrey's tardiness in repaying some trifling.sum, proceeded to taunt and insult-him most unwisely. .Stung to mad- ness, the wretched man resented the insults;- a struggle ensued, and tt its;close Mr. Aubrey stood over the corpse of the creditor. - There was no mode gf escape, and the arm: of the law consigned h im to prison. During the te- dious weeks that elapsed before the; trial, his devoted wife, strove to cheer and eiledurage him~ by every effort which one human being can make for another.~ Russell was- about eleven years of age, and, boy 'though he was, realized .most fully the horrors of his parent's page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8, MALARIA. situation. The days of the trial came at last; but he had surrendered himself to 'the demon Rage---had taken the life of a fellow-creature; what 'could legal skill accomplish ? The affair produced great and continued excitement; the, murdered man had been exceedingly pop- ular, and the sympathies of the citizens were enlisted in behalf of his family. Although clearly a case of manslaughter only, the vio- lent prejudice of thecommunity and the ex- ertions of, influential. friends so' biassed the jury that, to the astonishment of the counsel on both sides, the cry- of " blood . for blood " went out from that crowded court-room, and, in defiance of precedent, Mr. Aubrey was un- justly sentenced to be hung. When the ver- dict was known Russell placed his insensible mother on a couch, from which it seemed prob- able she would never rise. But there is an astonishing amount of endurance in even a feeble-woman's frame, and after a time she went about' her. house once more, doing her duty to her child and learning to "suffer and grow' strong." Fate had ordained, however, that Russell's father should not die upon the gallows; and soon after the verdict was pro- nounced, when all Mrs. Aubrey's efforts to procure a pardon had proved unavailing, the proud and desperate manl, in the solitude of his cell, with no eye but Jehovah's .to-witness the awful deed, the consummatioig of his woes, took his own life-with' the aid of a lancet lautched his guilty, soul into eternity. On the 'floor of the cell was found a blurred sheet, sprinkled with -blood, directed to his wife, bid- ding her farewell, and committing her and her boy to.the care of'an outraged andinsulted God. Such was the legacy of shame which Russell inherited; was it any marvel that at sixteen that boy had lived ages of sorrow ? Mrs. Aubrey found her husband's financial affairs so involved that she relinquished the hope of retaining the little she possessed, and retired to a small cottage on the outskirts of the town, where she endeavored to support herself and the two dependent on her by tak- ing in sewing. Electra Grey was the orphan child of Mr. Aubrey's only sister, who dying in poverty be- queathed the infant to her brother. He had loved her as well as his own.Russell; and his wife, who cradled her, in her arms and taught her to walk' by clinging to her finger, would almost as soon have parted with her son as the little Electra. For five' years the widow had toiled by midnight-lamps .to feed these two; now oppressed nature rebelled, the long over- taxed eyes refused to perform their office; filmy cataracts stole over them, veiling their- 'adness and their unshed tears-blindness was. creeping- on. At his father's death Russel was forced to quit school, and with ,some 'diffi- culty he succeeded in obtain' situation in large dry- ods tore, where hi labors were'- onerous intm extreme and his wages a mere . pittance. To domineer over those whom ad- verse fortune places under their control is by no means uncommon among ignorant and sel-. fish men, whose industry has acquired inde- pendence, and though Russell's,employer, Mr. Watson, shrank. from committing a gross wrong, and prided himself on his scrupulous honesty, still 'his narrow mind and penurious habits strangled every generous impulse, and, without 'being absolutely cruel -or unprinci- pled, he contrived ,to gall the boy's proud spirit and render his position one of almost purgatorial severity.p' . ' The machinery of human will is occult and complicated; very few rigidly analyze .their actions and discern tle motives that impel them, and if 'any one had told Jacob Watson that Envy was the secret spring which prompt- ed his unfriendly course toward his young clerk he would probably have indignantly de- nied the accusation. The blessing of an edu- cation had been withheld .from him; he grew up. illiterate, and devoid of refinement ; fort- une favored him,-he amassed wealth, and de- termined that his children should enjoy every advantage which money could command. His eldest son was just Russell's age, had been 'sent to various schools from his infancy, was indolent, self-indulgent, and thoroughly dissi- pated. Having been a second time expelled from school for most disgraceful misdemeanors, he lounged away his time about the store, or passed it still more disreputably with reckless companions. The daily contrast presented by Cecil and Russell irritated the father, and.hence his set- tled dislike of the latter. The faithful dis- charge of duty on the part of the clerk afford- ed no plausibleoccasion for invective ; he felt that he was narrowly watched, and. resolved to give no ground for fault-finding; yet dur- ing the long-summer days, when the intense heat prevented customers from thronging the store, and there was nothing to be done, when Russell, knowing that the books were written up, and the counters free from goods, took his Latin grammar and improved every leisure half-hour,:he was not ignorant of the fact that an angry scowl darkened his employer's visage, and understood whyhe was constantly inter- rupted to perform most unnecessary labors. But in the same proportion that obstacles thickened his energy and resolution doubled ;. and herein one human soul differs from anoth- er, in strength of will which furnishes powers of endurance. What'the day denied he, re- 'claimed from night, and succeeded in acquir- ing a tolerable nowledge of Greek, besides reading 'several' Latin books. .Findin that. his small salary was inadequate, now that his mother's failing sight prevented her from ac- complishing the' usual amount of sewing, he solicited and obtained 'permission to'- keep an additional set, of books for the grocer who furnished bis~ family with provisions, though - MACARIA. g by this arrangement' few hours remained for "You know very well your father can't necessary sleep. The protracted illness and bear to see you carrying your own satchel and. aeath of an aged and faithful servant, togeth- basket to school. se ;ordered Martha to take er with Electra's tedious sickness, bringing the them every morning and evening, but she says extra expense of medical aid, had prevented you will not let her carry them. It is just the prompt payment of rent due for the three- sheer obstinadly in you." roomed cottage, and Russell was compelled to " There it is again I because I don't choose ask for a portion of his salary in advance. His to be petted like a baby or made a wax-doll mother little 'dreamed of the struggle which of, it is set down to obstinacy, as if I had, the took place in his heart ere he' could force him- temper of a heathen. See here, Aunt Marga . self to.make the request, and he carefully con- ret, lam tired of havin Martha trampip g coaled from her the fact that, at the moment eternally at my heels as though I were atwo- of receiving the money, he laid in Mr. Wat- year-old child There is no reason in her son's hand, by way of pawn, the only article walking after me when I am strong enough to 'of any value which he possesseA---the watch carry my own books, and I don't intend she his father had always worn, and which the shall do it 'any longer." coroner took from the vest-pocket of thedead, " But, Irene, your father is .too proud to dabbled with blood. The gold chain had been have you trudging along thesroad like a . sold longbefore, and the son wore it attached other beggar, with your books in one arm and to a simple black ribbon. "His employer re- a basket swinging on the other. Just sups ceived the watch, locked it ,in the iron safe, pose the Carters or the Harrisses should meet and Russell fastened a-small weight to the you? Dear me! they would hardly believe ribbon, and kept it around his. neck that his you belonged to a wealthy,' aristocratic family mother might not suspect the truth. It chanced like the I untingdons. - Child, I never carried -that Cecil'stood near at the time'; he saw the my orn dinner to school in my life."- watch deposited in the safe, whistled a tune, " And I 'expect that is exactly the reason fingered his own gold repeater, and walked why you are for ever complaining, and scarce- away. ' lg see one well day in the three hundred and Such was Russell Aubrey's history ; such his sixty-five. As to what people think, I don't situation at the beginning of his seventeenth care a cent; as to whether my ancestors did year. Have I a reader whose fond father lay- or'did not carry their lunch'in their own aris-. -ishes on him princely advantages, whose tocratic hands is a matter of, no consecuence shelves are filled with valuable but unread whatever. I despise -all, thil ridiculous 'ndn- volumes, whose pockets, are supplied with sense about aristocracy of 'family, and I mean more than necessary money, and who yet to do as I please. I thought that really well- saunters through'the precious season of youth, bred-persons of high.standing and birth could failing utterly to. appreciate his privileges Y afford to be silent on the subject, and that only Let him look into that little'room wherekius. parvenus-coarse, vulgar people with a little sell sits, pale, wearied, but unbending, ponder. money--put on those kinds of airs, and pre- ing his dark future, planning to protect his, tended to be shocked' at what they had been, mother from *ant and racking his brain for accustomed to in early, life." some feasible method 'of procuring such b4oks "I do not see where you get such plebeian as he absolutely needs; books which his eager ideas; you positively make me ashamed!ofyou hungry eyes linger on as he passes the book- sometimes, when fashionable, genteel persons store every morning going to his work. Oh, come to the house. There is 'such a want of young reader 1 if such I have, look at him refinement in your notions. You are nything struggling with adversity as a strong swimmer but a Huntingdon."' with the murderous waves that lash himsand, "I am what God made me, Aunt Margairet. contrasting your own fortunate position, s'hake If he Huntingdons stand high,'it is because off the inertia that clings to you tenaciously as they 'won distinction by their own"efforts;- Sinbad's burden, and go to work earnestly, and I don't want the step~ing-stones of my dead bravely, thanking God for the aids he has ancestry ; people must'judge 'me for myself, not given you. from what my grandniother'was." a' . Evy's harsh berries, and the chokingg pool 'Irene Huntingdon stood on themarble steps Of.the work's scorn, are the right mother-milk of her' partial home, and talked with the To the tough hearts that pioneer their kind.". .. maiden aunt who governed herfathe's hoger -.- hold. -The girl was about fourteen, tall for CHAPTER xI her age, straight, finely-formed, slender. *'he ' broad strab 1jat shaded, but by no means con- " Irene' your father willme displeased if he sealed, her features,and as she looked up at sees yon that plight. heraunt the sunshine' fell upon'a face of pz- "Fray, what is wrong'about'me now ? You 'traordinary beauty, such as israrely-seets sate seem to glory in finding fault. What is the. in the idealized heads of the old-masters. Her matter wit my ' plight,' as you call it ?" hair was of an uncommon shiide, neither~ au- page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] .AMACARIA. burn nor brown, but between gold and bronze ;." and as the sun shone on it the rippling waves flashed until their burnished glory seemed. a very aureola.. It was thick and curling; she wore it parted on her pale, polished forehead, and it hung around her like a gilded veil. The face was an oval; you might measntre it by all the rules of art and no imperfection could be found, unless the height of the brow were considered out of proportion. The nose was delicate and clearly cut, and in outline r sembled that in the antique medals of Olym- pias, the wife of Philip of -Macedonia. The upper lip was short, and curved like aow ; the lower, bin, firm, and straight. Her eyes were strangely, marvellously beautiful; they werelarger than usual, and of that'rare shade of purplish blue which borders the white velvet petals of a clematis. When the eyes were uplifted, as on this occasion, long curling lashes of the bronze hue of her hair rested against her brow. Save the scarlet lines which marked her lips, her face was of 'that clear colorlessness which can be likened only to the purest ivory. Though there was an utter absence of the rosy hue of' health, the transparency of the complexion seemed char- acteristic of her type, and precluded all thought of disease. People are powerfully at- tracted by beauty, either of form, color, or a combination of both; .and it frequently hap- pens that something of pain mingles with the sensation of pleasure thus - excited. Now, whether it be that this arises from a vague ap- prehension engendered by the evanescentnat- ure of all sublunary things, or from the ina' bility of- earthly types to satisfy the divine ideal which' the soul enshrines, I shall not here attempt to decide ; but those who exam- ined Irene's countenance were fully conscious of this complex emotion, and strangers who passed her n the street felt intuitively that a . noble, unsullied soul looked out at them from the deep, calm, thoughtful eyes. Miss Marga- ret muttered something inaudible in reply to her last remark, and Irene walked on to school. Her father's residence was about a mile from the town, but the winding road ren- dered the walk'somewhat longer ; and on one side of this road stood the small house occupied by Mrs. Aubrey. As Irene approached it she saw 'Electra Grey coming from the opposite direction, and at the cottage-gate they met. Both paused ; Irene held out her hand cordi- ally- -. "Good-morning. I have not seen you for a fortnight. . 1 thought you weretoming to school again as soon as you were 'strong enough ?" "No; I am not going back to school." "Why?" ' - . " Because Auntie can't aff'ord- to send me ' any longer. You know her eyes are growing worse'every day, and she is not able to take in sewing as she used to do. I am sorry.; but 11it Can't be helpeth" " How do, you know it can't be helped ? Russell told me he thought she had cataracts on her eyes, and they can be removed." " Perhaps so, if we had the means of con- sulting that celebrated physician in New Or- leans. Money removes 'a great many things, Irie, but unfortunately we have n't it." " The trip would not cost much; suppose you speak to'Russell aboutit." - " Much or little, it will require more than we can possibly spare.t Everything is so high we can barely live as it is. But I must go in, my aunt is waiting for me."g " Where have you - been so early, Electra ? I hype you will not think me impertinent in asking such a question." "I carried tais waiter full of bouquets to Mr. Carter's. There is to be a grand dinner- party there to-day, and Auntie promised as many flowers as she could furnish. However, bouquets pay poorly. Irie, wait one minute; I lave a little border of mignonette all my ows, and I should like to give you a spray." She hurried into the garden, and retur-ing *ith a few delicate sprigs, fastened one in her friend's belt and.the remainder in the ribbon on her hat.' " Thank you, Electra; -who told you that I love mignonette so well ? It will not do for you to 'tay away from school; I miss you in my class, and, besides, you are losing too much time. Something should be done, Electra. Good-by."I They shook hands, and Irene walked'on.. " Something should be done," she repeated, looking down fixedly yet vacantly at the sandy road. Soon- the brick walls of the Academy rose grini and uninviting, and taking her place at the desk she applied herself to her books. When school was dismissed in the afternoon, instead of retuping home as usual, she walked down the principal street, entered Mr. Wat- son's store, and put her books on the counter." It happened that the proprietor.stood near the front-door, and he came forward instantly to wait upon her. . . "Ab, Miss Irene ! happy to see you.. What shall I have the pleasure of showing you ?" "Russell Aubrey, if you please." The merchant stared, and she added: "I want some kid gauntlets, but Russell can get them for me." The oung clerk stood at the desk in the rear of the store, with his back toward the counter; and Mr. Watson called out':- " Here, Aubrey, some ki&gauntlets for this young lady." ie laid down his pen, and taking a box of gloves from the shelves placed it on the count- er before her. Hes had not noticed her par- ticularly, and when she pushed back her hat and looked up at him'he started slightly. " Good-evening, Miss Huntingdon. What number do you wish'?' , Perhaps it was from the heat of the day, or . from stooping over his desk,,or perhaps it was from something else, but his cheek was flushed, and gradually it grew pale again. " Russell, I want to speak to you about Electra. She ought to be at school, you know." ," Yes." ' " But she saysyour mother can't aford the expense." II "Just now she can not; next year things will be better." '"What is the tuition for her ?" ",Five dollars a month." " Is that all ?'I He selected a delicate fawn-colored pair of gloves and laid them before her, while a faint smile passed over his face. " Russell, has anything happened ?" " What do you mean ?" " What is troubling you so ?" Nothing more than usual. Do those gloves' suit you ?" " Yes, they will fit me, I believe." She'look- ed atf him very intently. ' He met her gaze steadily, and for an instant his face brightened ; then, she said abruptly: "Your mother's eyes are worse ?" . "Yes, much worse." "Have you consulted Dr. Arnold about them ?" "-He'says he can do nothing for her." " How much would it cost 'to take her to New Orleans and have that celebrated oculist examine them ?". "More than we can afford just now.; at least two hundred dollars."- " Oh, Russell! that is not much. Would not Mr. Watson lend you that little ?" " I shall hot ask him." " Not even to restore your mother's sight ?" "Not to buy my own life. Besides, the ex- periment is a doubtful one." S" Still it is worth making."' . " Yes, under different circumstances it cer- tainly would be." " Have you talked to Mr. Campbell about it?' - " No, because it is useless to discuss the mat- ter." - " It would be dangerous to go to New Or- leans now, I suppose ?" "October or Novemberwould- be better." Again she looked at him very earnestly, then stretched out her little hand. " Good-by, Russell; 1 wish 1, could do some- thiug to help you, to make you less sorrowful." He held the slight waxen fingers, and his- mouth trembled as he answered: "Thank you, Miss Huntingdon. I am not sorrowful, but my path in'life is .apt quite so flowery as yours." "1I wish you would not call 'me ' Miss Hun- tingdon,' inthat stiff, far-off way, as if we were not friends. Or maybe it is a hirit that you desire me to address you as Mr. Aubrey. It sounds-strange, unnatural, to say anything but Russell." She gathered up her books, took the gloves, and west slowly homeward, and .Russell re- turned -to.his '4esk with a light it.his eyes which, for the remainder of the day, nothing could quench. As Ireneascended the long hill on which Mr. Huntingdon's residence stood she saw her father's buggy at the door, and as she approached the .steps he came out, draw- ing on his gloves. " You are lte, Irene. What kept you?" "I have been shopping a little.. Are you going to ride? 4ake me with you." " Going to din at Mr. Carter's." " Why, the su is almost down now. What time will you ce home ? I want to ask you something." "Not till long after you are asleep." He took his seat in the byggy, and the spirited horse dashed down the avenue. A servant came forward to take her hat and satchel and inform her that her dinner'had waited some time. Miss Margaret sat croch- eting at the front-window of the dining-room, and Irene ate her dinner in silence. As she rose and-approached her aunt the door swung open 'anda youth entered, apparently about Russell's age, though really one year older. "Irene, I am tir d to death waiting for you. What a provoking girl you are'! Tbe horses have been saddled at least one hour and a half. Do get on your riding'dress. ' I am out of all patience." He rapped his boot heavily with his whip by way of emphasis, and looked hurriedly at his watch. "i did not promise to ride. with you this evening, Hu'h,' answered his cousin, seating herself on ie. window-sill and running her fingers lightly over the bars of a beautiful cage,= where her canary pecked playfully at the fair hand. " Oh, nonsense ! Suppose you did n't prom- ise ; I waited for you, and told Grace Harriss and Charlie that we would meet them at the upper bend of the river, just above the Factory. Charlie's new horse has just arrived from Ver- mont--Green Mountain Boy he calls him- and. we have a bet of a.half-dozen pairs'of gloves that he can't beat my Eclipse. -Do come along I. Aunt Margaret, make her come." "I should like to see anybody make, her.do what she is not in the hunior for," said his aunt, looking over her glasses at the lithe, graceful figure on the window-sill. "flu'h, I would rather stay at home,,for I am tired, but I will go to oblige you." Miss' Margaret lifted tier eyebrows, and as his cousin left the room Hugh Seymour ex- claimed: -"Is n't she the greatest beauty in the Uniled States ?" " She will 1e a h~elle when she is grown.; just such a one as your mother was, ouly sh~e. I MACARIA. 11 10 page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] I MALARIA. - lacks her gayety of disposition. s'She is full of strange notions, Hugh,; you don't know thb half of her character-he'own father does not. Frequently I am puzzled to understand her myself." "Oh l she will come out of all that. She is curious about some things now, but she will outgrow it."' I am afraid she will not, for it is as nuch a part of her as the color of her hair or the shape of her nose. She has always been queer." Iiene appeared at the door with a'small sil- ver pore-monnaie in her hand. She counted the contents, put .it into her pocket, and, gathering up the folds of her habit, led 'the way to the front door. Hugh adjusted the reits, and laying one hand on his she sprang lightly to her saddle, then stroked 'her horse's silky, mane and said: " Erebus can leave Green Mountain Boy so. far behind that Charlie would find it no easy matter to count the plumes in my hat. Are you ready ?" The beautiful jetty creature, as if conscious of her praise, tossed his head and sprang off in a canter, but, wheeling round, she called to the groom who stood watching them: "Unchain Paragon I" " Five minutes later the cousins were gallop ing on, with a superb greyhound following close at fErebus' heels, and leaping up now and' then in obedience to the motion of Irene's hand.' The road ran through a hilly country, now clad in stern ancestral pines, and now skirted with oak and hickory, and about a mile beyond the town it made 'a sharp angle and took the river bank. The sun had set, but the western sky was still aglow; and near the bank, where the current was not perceptible, the changing tints df the clouds were clearly mirrored, but in the' middle of the stream a ledge of rock impeded its course and the wa- ter broke over with a dull roar, churning itself into foam and spray as it dashed from shelf 'to shelf of the stony barrier. Just opposite he Fall Irene checked her here and paused to' admire the beauty of the scene; but in another moment- the quick tramp of hoofs fell on her ear, and Ungh's youngifriends joined them. Green Mountain Boy was flecked with foam, and as Irene measured his perfections at one hasty glance, she, patted her favorite's head and ohallenged'Charlie for a trial of speed., "'No; Charlie and I must have' the race. Miss Grace, you and Irene can take cafe 'of yourselves for a few minutes. We *ill wait for you on the ,edge of town, ,at the' graveyard. Now, Charlie, I am ready." They took there places in front, and were' soon out of sight, as the rdad followed the curved of the river. 'Erebus plunged violently at first, not being accustomed to' lag /behind el~lipse, buts by much persuasion apd frequent .kind touches on his head, Irene thanaged to reconcile hima to the temporary disgrace. " Grace looked at his antics rather fearfully, an observed that no amount of money could tempt her to mount him. " Why iot ?" " He will break your neck yet." " He is very spirited, but as gentle as Para- gon. a Come, Grace, it is getting late ; they will be waiting for us. Quicken your sober, meek little brownie." '"So Electra is not coming' back to school, It is a greatity'she can't have an educa- tion."' "Who told you anything about her ?" "Oh,.everybody knows how poor her aunt is,; and now, to mend matters, she is going blind. I would go to see Electra occasionally if the family had not been so disgraced. .I like her,' but no genteel person recognizes Mrs. Aubrey, even in the street." " That is very unjust. She is- one of the most refined, elegant women I have ever seen. She ought not to be blamed for her husband's misfortune. Poverty is no crime." - If she had been treated to a Hindostanee proverb Grace could not have looked more stupidly surprised.- -." Why,. Irene I Mrs. Aubrey wears a bit- calico to church.". " Well, suppose she does? Is people's worth to be determined only by the cost or the quality of their clothes ? If I were to give your cook a silk dress exactly like that one your uncle sent you from' Paris, and provide her with shawllind bonnet to match, would she be your equal, do you think ? I imagine you would not thank me or anybody else who insinuated that Mrs. Harriss' negro cook was quite' as' genteel and elegant aS Miss Grace herself, be- cause she'wore exactly the same kind of clothes. I tell you, Grace, it is all humbug 1 this ever- lasting talk about fashion, and dress, and gen- tility I PshaW I I amjick of it., When our forefathers were fighting for freedom, for a national existence, I wonder whether their wives measured each other's respectability or gentility by their lace collars or the number of flounces on their dresses? Grace Harriss, your great-grandmother, and mine, and probably everybody's else, spun the cotton, and wove the cloth, and cut and made their homespun dresses, and were thankful to get them. ,And these women'" who kad not even bit-calicoes were the mothers, and wives and sisters and daughters of men who established the most' glorious government on the face of the broad earth" The way thewomen of America have degenerated is a crying shame. I tell you, I would blush to look my great-grandmother ii tho face."m Grace shrugged her shoulders in expressive silence, and, Soon after, they reached the spot wheu'e thie boys were 4aiting to join them. , "E6lipsenade god his name I" cried Hugh, , triumphantly, while Charlie bit his lip with chagrin. MACARI4. "Never mind, Charlie; Erebus can distance Eclipse any day." "No soeasily," muttered'Hugh. "I will prove it the next time we ride. Now for a canter as far as Grace's door." On they went, through the main street of the town: Erebus ahead, Paragon at his heels, then all the others. The wind blew Irene's veil over her eyes, she endeavored to put it back, and inthe effort dropped her whip. It was dusk; they were near one of the crossings, and. a tall, well-known form stooped, found the whip, and handed it up, Erebus shied, but the hand touched Irene a as it inserted the sil- ver handle in ,the slender fingers. " Thank you, Russell; thank you very much." - He bowed fprmally drew his straw hat over, his brow, and walked on with two heavy ac- count-books under his arm.-. "I can't endure that boy," said Hugh, at_ the distance of half a square, flourishing his whip energetically as he spoke. "Nor I," chimed in Charlie. " Whynot? I have known him a long time, and I like him very much." ".He is so confoundedly proud and saintly." " That exists entirely in your imagination, Hugh. You don't know half his good quali- ties,"~returned Irene, a little quickly. " Bah !-" began her cousin; but here their companions bade them good-night,.and,as if disinclined to continue the.subject, Irene kept in advance till they reached home. Tea was waiting; Miss Margaret and Hugh 'talked of various things ; Irene sat silent, balancing her spoon on the edge of her-cup. Finally, tired of listening, she glided tothe front-door and seated herself on the steps. Paragqn followed, and laid down at her feet. Everything was quiet, ave the distant roar of 'the river as it foamed over its rocky bed; below, hanging on the bank of the strearn,'lay the town., Fromni her elevated position she could trace the wind- ing of the ittreets by the long 'rows of lamps, -and now and then a faint hum rose on. the breeze as it swept up the hill and lost itself int the forest behind the house. Very soon HughE came out, cigar in hand, and threw himself' down beside her. "What is the matter, Irie,?" " Nothing." . - "What are you moping here for ?" "I am' not moping at all I ani waiting for Father.". - " Ie will not be. here for three hours yet. t Don't you know 'that, Mr.. Carter's dinners always end in card-parties ? He is famous I for whist and euchre,' and doubtless his din- i ners pay him welL?" What do you want with ." Hugh,' do throw away your cigar It is ridigulous to see a boy of your age puffing away t in that style. Betting and sasoling seemr to be the only things you have learned at T'ale. By the way, when do you go back ?" ' t 18 "Are you getting tired of me ? I go back in ten days.' irene, do you know that ,I am not comiiw;home next actionn,' I have remise4 a party of merry fellows to spend it w4h them in Canada. TLen the next ummer I go to Europe for two years atleast. .Are jouhieten- ing.? Do you understand that it will be four years before I see you again ?" " Yes, I understand..-, "I dare say the time will seem.long4r to me than to you." "I hope, wheayou do come back, we shall not be disappointed in you." He 'took her. hand, but she withdrew her fingers. "Irene, you belong to me, and you know it." "NIo ! I belon' to God and myself." She rose, anti, retreating to the library, opened her books and began to study. The night passed very slowly; she looked at the clock again and'again. Finally the house be came quiet, and at last the crush of wheels on the gravel-walk announced her fathers return. He came into thelibrary for a cipa , and, with- out ,noticing her, drew his chair 'to th# open window. She approached 'and put her hand on hi shoulder. "Iene! what is the matter, 'child ?" ":Nothing, sir ; only.I want to ask you Some- thing. " Well, Queen, what is it ?" He drew her tenderly to his knee and pass- ed his hand over het floating hair. Leonard Huntingdon was forty years old;- tall, spare, with an erect and martial carriage. He had. been trained at West Point, and per' haps early education contributed somewhat to the air of unbending haughtiness which many found repulsive.' His black hair was slightly, sprinkled with gray and his features were still decidedly handsome, though the expression of mouth and eyes was, ordinarily, 'by no means winning. He could seem very fascinating, but rarely deigned to be so; and an intimate ac- quaintance was not necessary to teach peq e that 'hewas eroud, obstinate, and thorough selfish, loving only Hugh, 'Irene, an himself. $he was his only child; her mother had 'die4 during her infancy, and on this beautiful idol he lavished all the tenderness of which ,his nature was, capable. His tastes were culti- vated, his house was elegant and complete, and furnished magnificently; every luxury that money could yield' him he 'possessed, yet, there were times when he seemed ,moo4y and cynical, and no one cogld surmise ths use of his glooi. To-night there was noshaeowton his face, however; doubtless -thespre e wine sup s ill shone inin piercing ,blue eye, one iheilood tip't himnfearinga ndenaL " . ,Xwis.pease you woukivep wo hundred dollars." .. " What Nould ayou do~ with it, Queen ~ "I do n'ot want ~tfer yseW; I sheulda li o have that aluch to enable a pqor wwp p 12 t} 1 y f I E y I I t 4 i )r 1 t ( page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] MACARIA. recover her sight.. She has cataracts on her eyes, and there is a physician in New Orleans - who can relieve her. She is-poor, and it will cost about two hundred dollars. ' Father,'won't you give me th§ money ?" He'tookthe cigar from his lips, shook off the ashes. and asked indifferently: " What is the woiian's name? Has she no husband to take care of her ?" "Mrs. Aubrey; she- " What!-" The cigar fell from his fingers, he put'her front his knee, and rose instantly. His swarthy cheek glowed, and she wondered at the ex- pression of his eyes, so different from anything she.had ever seen there before. . "Father,-do you know her ?" " What do you know of her ? What busi- ness is it of, yours, whether she, goes blind or not ? Is it possible Margaret allows you to visit at that house ? Answer me, what do you know about her ?" " I know that she is a very gentle, unfort- unate woman; that she has many bitter trials; that she works hard to support her family; that she is noble and-" "«Who gave you permission to visi4 that house ?" "«No permission was necessary. I go there because I love her and Electra, and-because I like Russell. Why should n't I go there, sir? Is poverty disgrace ?" ' - "Irene, mark me. You are to visit that house'no more in future ; keep away from the whole family. I will have no such association. Neverlet me hear their namesagain. Go to bed." " Give me one good reason, and I will obey you." " Reason 1 My will, my command, is suffi- cient reason. What do you mean by cate- chising me in this way ? Implicit obedience is, your duty." The calm, holy eyes looked wonderingly into his; and as he marked the startled expression of the 'girl's pure face'his own 'efhs drooped. "Father, has Mrs. Aubrey ever injured you?" No answer. "' If she has'not, you are very'unjust to her ; if she has, remember she is a woman, bowed down with many sorrows, and it is unmanly to hoard up old differences. Father, please give me that money." . - "I will bury my last-dollar in the Red Sea first!l /Now arb you answered ?" She put ber hand over here 'es, as if to shut out some'painful vision; and 'e saw the slight, fore shudder.' In perfect silence she took her 'booh'and went up to herroom. Mr. Hunting- don reseated himself as the door closed behind her, and the lamp-light showed a sinister smile writhin ovr 'his dark. features. In the busy hours o day, in tlpe rush and din of active life, men can drown remorseful whispers and -shut their eyes to the panorama which Memory strives to place before them; but there come still hours, solemn and inexorable, when strug- gles are 'useless and the phantom recollections of early years crowd up like bannered armies. He sat there, stai-ing out into the starry night, and seeing by the shimmer of the setting moon only the graceful form. and lovely face of Amy Aubrey, as She had appeared to him in other days. Could he forget the hour when she wrenched her cold fingers from his 4lasp,,and, in defiance of her father's wishes, vowed she would never be his wife ? No; revenge was sweet, very sweet; his heart had swelled with exultation when the verdict of death upon the gallows was pronounced upon the husband of her choice; and now, i her poverty, her humiliation, her blindness gave him deep, un- utterable joy. This history of the Past was a sealed volume to his daughter, but she was now for the first time conscious that her father regarded the widow and her. son with uncon- querable hatred; and with strange, foreboding dread she looked into the Future, knowing that forgiveness was no part of his nature ; that i - sult or injury was never forgotten. CHAPTER III- Whether the general rule of implicit obe- dience to parental injunction admitted of no exceptions, was a problem which Irene readily solved,; and on Saturday, as soon as her father and cousin had started to the plantation. (twenty-five miles distant), she put on her hat and walkedo town. Wholly absorbed in phi- lanthropic schemes, she hurried along the side- walk, ran up a flight-of steps, and knocked at a door on which was written, in large gilt let- ters, " Dr. Arnold," ,. " Ah, Beauty I come in. Sit down, and tell me what brought you to town so early." He was probably a man of fifty; gruff in appearance, and unmistakably a bachelor.' His thick hair was grizzled; -so was the heavy beard; and shag y gray eyebrows slowly un- bent as he'took is visitor's little hands and looked kindly down into her grave face. From her infancy he had petted and fondled her, and' she stood as little in awe of him as of Paragon.- " Doctor, are you busy this morning ?" " I am never too busy to attend to you, little, one. What is it ?"- " Of course you know that Mrs. Aubrey is almost blind."' "Of 'course I do, having been her - phy- sician-" "Those cataracts can be removed, how- ever." "Perhaps they can, and perhaps they can't." "'Mlut the probabilitiess are that a good ocu,. list can relieve her. n ' - . " I rather think so." " 'wo hundred-dollars would-defray all the expenses of a trip to New Orleans for. this purpose, but she is too poor to afford-it.' -" Decidedly too poor." His gray eyes twinkled promisingly, but he would not anticipate her. "Dr. Arnold, don't you think you could spare that small sum without much incon- venience ?" "16eally! is, that what you trudged into town for ?"A " es, just that, and-nothing else.' If I had had themoney I should not have applied to you." " PshawI your father could buy me a dozen times," "At any rate, I have not the necessary amount at my disposal just now, and I came to ask you to lend it to me." "For ho4w long, Beauty ?" " Till I am of age-perhaps not so long. I will pay yoti the interest." "You will climb.Popocatapetl, won't you? Hush, child.".-- .- He went into the adjoining room, but soon returned and resumed his seat on the sofa by her side. a "Irene, did you first apply to your father ? -I don't relish,the idea of being a dernier ressort." " What difference: can it make to you wheth- er I did or did not ?' That I come to you at all is sufficient proof of my faith in" your gen- erosity.""- _" . Hiram Arnold was an acute and practised. physiognomist, but the pale, quiet face per- plexed him. "Do you want the money now ?" " Yes, if you please; but before you give it to me I ought to tell you that I want the mat- ter kept secret. No one is to know anything about it-not even my father." "Irene,; is it right to inveigle me into schemes with which you are ashamed to hive your own father'acquainted ?" " You know the whole truth, therefore you Are not inveigled- and moreover, Doctor, I am not ashamed of anything I do.", She looked so unermbarrassed that for a mo- ment he felt puzzled. "I knew Mrs. Aubrey before her marriage." He bent 'forward to watch the effect. of-his words, but if she really -knew or suspected aught yi' the past, there was not the slightest intimation of it. Putting back her hair, she looked up and answered:' " That should increase your willingness to, aid her in her misfortunes." " Hold out your hand: fifty, one hundred, a hundred and fifty, two hundred. There, will' that do ?' *" Thank you! thank you! You will not need it soorn, I hope.?" - "Not until you are ready to pay me." "Dr. Arnold, you have given me a great deal of pleasure---more than I can express. 1--"' " Don't try to express it, Queen. You have given me infinitely more, I assure you." Her splendid eves 'were lifted toward him, and with some sudden impulse she touched her lips to the hang he had placed-on her shoulder. 'Something like a tremor crossed the doctor's .habitually -stern month as he looked at the marvellous beauty of the girl's countenance, and he kissed her slender fingers as reverently as though he touched something consecrated. "Irene, shall I take you home in my byg- gy?" " No, thank you,"I would rather walk. Oh ! Doctor, I an so much obliged .t9 yon." She drew her hat over her face and went down the "steps. Di'. Arnold walked slowly. across the office-fior ,with his hands behind 'him; the grim face ,was placid, now, the dark furrows on his brow were not half sg deep and as he paused and ,closed a ponderous volume lying on the table, a smile suddenly flitted over his features, as one sees a sunbeam stiggle through rifts in low rain-clouds. lH put the book in the case and locked the, glass door. The "Augustinian Theory of Evil" wascon- tained in the volume, which -seemed by "no means to have satisfied him. "All a maze worse than that of Crete I I will follow that girl; she shall be my Ariadne in this Egyptian darkness. Pshaw ! if His .Highness of Hippo were right, what wouilbe- ctme of the' world ? - All social organizations are based (and-'firmly too) on. man's faith in man; establish the universal depravity, devil- ishness of the human race, and lo ! what -sup- ports the mightysocial fabric? Machiavelism? .If that queer little unti'ained freethinker,'Irene, is not pure and sinless, then there are neither\ seraphim nor cherubim in high Ieaven ! Cy- rus, bring out my buggy." In answer to Irene's knock,.Electra opened the cottage-door- and 'ushered. her into 'the small room which served as both'kitchen' and dining-room. Everything was scrupulously neat, not a spot on 'the bare polished floor;hot a speck todim the purity of the snowy diniity curtains,.and on the table in the centre stood a vase filled with fresh fragrant flowers. 'In ,a low chair before 'the open window sat the widow, net'tinga,blue and, white nubia. 'She glanced round as Irene entered. "Who I it. , lectra ?" "Miss Irene, Aunt."- '" ' " Sit. down, Miss Irene'; how are you to. day ?"" '.. She spoke rapidly, and for a moment.seem confused, then resumed 'her, work. watched her pale, delicate fingers, and theo auburn 19shes drooping ovet- the"'coloies cheeks, and, when she'looked uip for-an ixitast 'the visitor saw that'the niildimeek brdwn eyes were sdly blurred.' If ever esignato en throned' itself'on a'woiW# 'brow, ouni h. have bewed,: bedre Amy Aubrey's sa~t placidly, subdued face. No-D)niel *athet a MACARIA. 1 ' 15 14 * page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] MACARIA. to interpret the lines which sorrow had printed, around her patient, tremulous mouth. "Ms. Aubrey, I am'sorry to hear your eyes ark no better." " Thank you for your kind sympathy. My sight grows more dim every day." Ihoul4 think netting would, be -injrious to you now." "It is purely mechanical; I use my eyes very little. Electra, arranges the, colors for me, aid I find it easy work." Irene'knelt down before her, and, folding one of the hands in both hers,.said eagerly: *" You shan't "ffer much longer ; these veils shall be taken off. here is the money to en- ablq you to go to New Orleans and consult 'that physician.. As soon as the weather turns cooler you muststart." . "Miss Irene,'I can not tax your generosity sq h0vily ; I have no claim on your goodness. Indleed.I---"' "'lease don't refuse the money !-You will distress me very much' if you do. Why should you hesitate ? if it makes me happy and bene- fits yo, why will you decline it,? Do you think if my eyes werein the condition of yours that I would not thank you to relieve me ?" The widow ,had risen hastily and covered her face with her hands, while, an unwonted flush ,dyed her cheeks. She trembled, and Irene saw tears stealing through the fingers. "Mrs. Aubrey, don't you think it is your duty to recover your sight if possible ?" " Yesif I could command the means," You have the means-you must employ them, There,I will not take back the money; it is ours.", tDon't refuse it, Auntie ; you will wound' 'Irie," pleaded Electra. IUow little they understood or appreciated the sruggle in that gentle sufferer's heart; how impossible for them to;realize the humilia- gon she -endured in accepting such a gift from the hild.of Leonard Huntingdon ? With a faltering voice she asked:, "Did youi father send me this money ?" .X lo." It was the first time she had.ever alluded to him, pnd Irene saw that some. painful memory linked itself with her, father.. What couldn't be ? There was silece for' a few seconds;, then Mrs. Aubrey too' the hands from her face and said: "Irene, I will accept 'your generous oger. 'If my sight is restored, I can repay you some day; if not, I am not too proud to be u thasgreat obligation to you. Oh, Irene! you how much I thank you; my is tgo full for words." She threw her the girl's waist and strained hierto "' -' 4a.hot tears-fell fast on the waves fairr, A moment after, Irene threw -a ~p iso Electra's lap, and without aer wor ghded out of the room. The roi e al, and as she opened a diet of spote-aper aten-dollar bill slipped out. " Electra, come to school Monday.' The enclosed will pay your tuition for two months longer. .Please don't hesitate to accept it, if you really love "Y our friend, "IbE" ,"4IRENE n Mrs. Aubrey sat with her face in her hands, listening to the mournful, solemn voice that stole up from the mouldering, dusty crypts of by-tone - years'; and ,putting the note in her pocket, Electra leaned her head against the wind w and thanked God for the gif of a true friend. Thinking of the group she had just left, Irene approached the gate and saw that Russell stood olding it open for, her to pass. Looking upshe stopped, for the expression of his face frightened and pained her., " Russell, what is the matter'? oh ! tell me. ' A scornful, defiant smile. distorted his blood- less lips,mbut he made no answer. She took his hand; it was cold, and the fingers were clenched.. " Russell, are you ill ?" ... . She.shuddered at the glare in his black eyes. - " I am not ill." "Won't you tell your friend what ails you ?" " -have no friend but my mother 1" " Oh, Russell, Russell i" Her head drooped, and the glittering hair swept as a veil between them. The low, flute- like, pleading voice stirred his heart, and the blood surged over his pallid forehead. "I have been injured and insulted. Just now I doubt all people and all things, even the justice and mercy df God." " Russell, 'shall not the. righteous Judge of all the earth do right?"' " Shall the rich and the unprincipled eter- nally trample upon the poor and- the unfortu- nate ?" " Who has injured you?"' "A meek-loolimg man, who passes for a Christian, who turns pale at the sound of a violin, who exhorts to missionary labors, and talks often about widpws and orphans, Such a man, knowing the circumstances that sur- round me-my poverty, my mother's affliction- on bare and mest unwarrantable suspicion turns me out of my situation as clerk, and en- deavors to brand my name with infamy. To- day I stand disgraced in the eyes of t4 com- inunity, thanks to the vile slanders of that pil- lar of the church, Jacob Watson. Four hours ago I went to my work quietly, hopefully; but now another spirit has entered and possessed me. Irene, I am desperate. Do you wonder ? It seems to me ages have, rolled over mesince my mother kissed me this mormling; thereis a hissing serpent in my 'heart which I have no power to ezpel. I could bear dt-myself; but my mother! my goble, patient, suffering moth- er I I must go' in and add a yet heavier bur- den to those aIready. crughimg out her life. Pleasant tidings," these I bring her: that her son 'is disgraced, branded as a rogue !" There was no moistlige in the keen eye,ono tremor in the metallic'ring'of his voice, no re- laxation of the curled lip. " Can't you prove your innocence ? WsS it, money ?" "No, it was a watch; my watch, whith'I gave up as security for drawing a portion of my salary in advance. It was' locked up in the iron 'safe ; this morning it w8 missing, and they accuse me of having stolen it." He took off his hat as if it oppressed him, and tossed back his hair. , " What will you do, Russell ?" "I don't know yet." "OhI if I could only help 'you." She clasped her hands over her heart, and, for the' first time since her infancy tears rush- ed down her cheeks. It was painful to see. that quiet girl' so moved, and Russell hastily took the folded hands in his and bent his face close, to hers.= "Irene, the only comfort I have is that , yoi are my friend. Don't let them infuence you against me. No matter what you may hear, believe in me.' Oh, Irene, Irene ! believe in' me always I" . . He held her hands in a clasp so tight that it1 pained her, then suddenly dropped them and left her. As a pantomime all this passed be-I fore Electra's.eyes; hot 'a word reached her,. but she knew that something unusual'had oc- curred to bring her cousin home at that hour, and felt that now he was but the avant-cou- rier of a new sorrow. She glanced toward her aunt's bowed form, then smothered a groan, and sat waiting for the blow to -fall 'upon her. Why spring to meet it? He went to his own' room first, and five, ten, fifteen minutes rolled on. She listened tothe faint sound of his steps, and knew that he paced, up and 'down 1 the floor ; five minutes more'of crushing sus- pense, and he came along' the passage and stood at the door. She looked at him, pale, erect, and firm, and shuddered in thinking of the struggle which that calm exterior had cost ' him. Mrs.' Aubrey recognized the- step, and looked round in surprise.' "Electra, I certainly hear Russell'comin;."s He drew near and touched her cheek with 't his lips, saying tenderly: s "'How is' my mother ?"s " Russell, what brings'you home so early ?" t "That is rather a cold welcome, Mother, t but I am not astonished. Can you benr 'to hear soniething.unpleasant ? Here, putyour o hands in mine ; now listen to me.' You know a I drew fifty dollars-of mysalary in advance, to $l pay Clark. At'that time 'I ave my watch'to Mr. Wdtson by way of p~awn,' he seemed 'so reluctant to let 'me bae the tney; you und derstand, Mother, why I did.ndt mnatidn 'it-at ' the time. H le locked it 'up in the irdn safe,% to' which no one' has access except him and nmg- a self.. Late yesterday Ilocked the safe usu but do not member whether th watch was still there or not; this iornin Mr. Wato missed it; we searched safe, desk, store, could fid it nowhere, nor the' twenty-dollgr gold piece deposited at the ame tine. No other money was missing, though the safe contained 'nearly a thousand dollars The end of, it all is that I am accused as the thief nd in disgrace for---" A 1w, plaintive&'y escaped the ds lips, and her head rsank ea o th d's shoulder. Passing his arm fondly around her he missed her while faced conatrei t same hushed, pass onless tone,, like onespeak- ing under his breath, and stilling soedevour- ing rage: I " Mother, Ineed not assure you of my inno- ce'ce. You know that I never ould 'be" guilty of what is imputed toe having it in my power to prove my iinocence, I 'shall Haya'e to suffer the disiraco for a season. Only for a season, I trust, ';othe, for in.time the truth mus be dis'red. r, hav n turned out of .uhy situation, and;though vtey hare no proof'fof my" guilt, theywill try-to brand me With t' edisrace. ; ut"tey can't crush n'me; soglo t re emaihs at tropof blood in my veins,' I will 'score athdir slaide s and their hatred. Don't cry, other; your ~~~ tears hurt me,,om t Iu teas hrt nc ore 'than all my rngI'' you will only be brave, and pt e g dence in me, I shall bear all tbi infinitely bet- ter. Look at the bitter truth ae ytface we have nothingmore'to lose: 'Por raicted disgraced, there is nothi ig eleoniearthrto fear ; but there is everything 'ope for: wealth,,name, fame, influenpe.oThis is my comfort; it is a.grim philosophy, 'born of D- spair. I go forward fom to-da like a m a who comes out of 'some fieryfurnace, ahd, blackened and scorched 'though he be, looks F into the future, without apprehension, feeling, assured that it can hold nortrials comparable to those already ast. SereI aInam'asron but you should have'another'and far-brighter hope to rest upon ; it is just such ordeals as his for which religion promises you strength and consola n 'Mother, 'I have seen gth supported by Christian faith ina darker hour han this. Take courage; 'all i ill weo nome day." For a few moments deep, silene'e~e n he little kitchei anddothe 1nme de eye pierced the heart ff the lo td r Jh e raised her head fromthe boy' - Dm the face, though tear-stained, *as seine, nd, pressing hr loe'twice to ais she d lowly . " ' Beloved, thidito t concerning . g MACARIA' 16 171 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] MACARIA. 18. MACARIA. which shall convince the world of your-inno- cence. I wish I could take the whole burden on my shoulders, and relieve you, my dear boy." "o have; Mother ; it ceases to crush nie, now thatyou are yourself once more." He spoke with difficulty, however, as if something. stifledhim, and, rising, hastily poured out and drank a glass of water. s"And now, Russell, sit down and let me tell you,a little that is pleasant and sunshiny. There' is still a bright spot left to look upon." Stealing her hand 'into 'his, the mother in- formed him of all that 'had occurred during Irne's visit, and concluded by laying the money in his palm. Electra sat opposite,.watching the change that came over the face she loved best on earth. Her large,' eager, midnight eyes noted the 4uick flush and 'glad light which over- spread his features; 'the deep joy that kindled in his toistred 'soul; and unconsciously she clutched her fin ers till the .nails grew. purple, as' though sttivn uto strange le some hideous object th rusting itself before her. Her breath- ini became labored and painful, her gaze more concentrated and ,searchis g, and when her'ousin 'exclaimed, "Oh, Mother i she is anangel! I have always known it. She is unlke everybody else ." .lectra's heart seemed tostand still; and from that moment a som- bre curtain fell between the girl's eyes and God'ssunshine. She rose, and a silent yet terrible struggle took placein' her passionate soul. Justice and Jealousy wrestled briefly; she would be just, though every star 'fell.froin Iimr sky, and with'a quick, uncertain step she reached Uussell, thrust Irene's note into his fin ersand fled into solitude. 'n hour later Russell knocked at the door of an office, which bore on a square tin plate these words, "Robert Campbell, Attorney-at- Law." The door was only partially closed and as he entered an-elderly man looked up from a desk covered with 'loose papers and open volumes, from which he was evidently making extracts. The thin hair hung over, hi fore ead as'if restless fingers had ploughed releal thro gh it, and as he -kept on er on a half-copied aragraph, the col gey said very plainly, "This is a busy time with mea despatch your errand at once. " Good-morn in , Mr. Carpbell; are. yot particularly 'engaged,?"' "' flow-d'y-do, Aubrey. I "am generally en e ; confoundedly busy thismorning. Wha Is p en resumed its.work, but he turner his head as if to listen. I will call aain when you are at leisure, 'That will be-nxt' month-next year ; i: fihp~toing your' visit indefinitely. Si into a crner, ami let 's hear' your busines: I am at your service for ten minutes-talk fast." He put bis pen behind his ear, crossed his arms on the desk, and looked expectant. "I came here to ask whether you wished to employ any one in your office." " And what. the deuce do you suppose I want with an,office-lad like yourself ? To put the very books I need at the. bottom of a pile tall as theTower of Babel,., and tear up my briefs to kind. the fire or light your cigar? No, thank you, Aubrey'; I tried that experi- ment to my perfect satisfaction a few months ago. - Is that' all ?" " That is all, sir." The boy rose, but the bitter look that cross- ed his face as he glanced at the well-filled book-shelves arrested the lawyer's attention, and he added:.- " Why did you leave Watson, young man? It is a bad plan to change about in this style." "I was expelled from my situation on a foul and most unjust accusation. I am seeking employmentfron necessity." "Expelled is a. dark word, Aubrey; it will hardly act as a passport to future situations. Expelled clerks are not in demand.", " Still, I'must state the truth unreservedly." " Let 's hear the whole business ; sit down." Without hesitation"'he narrated all the cir- cumstances, once or twice pausing to still the tempest of passion that flashed from his, eyes. While he spoke Mr. Campbell's keen eyes searched hi from head to foot, and at the conclusion heasked sharply : " « Where-is the watch, do you suppose ?" " Heaven only knows. I have a suspicion,' *but no right to utter it, since I might thereby inflict a wrong equal to that from which I now suffer." "It is a datk piece of business as it stands." " Yes, but time will clear it up." " See here, Aubrey; I have noticed youtwo, or three times in the court-house listening to I some of my harangues. I knew your father, and I should like to help you. It sees to me ydu might make better use of your talents I than you are doing. And yet, if you rise it e will be over greater obstacles than most men I -surmount. Do you understand me " "1 do ; for I am tho painfully aware of the rejudice against which I have to contend. u But if I live, I shall lift myself out of this pool where malice;and hate have thrust me." - ' - Whatci you propose to do ?"' t "Work at the plough or before the anvil, if nothing els can be done to support my moth- d er and cousin.;and, as soon as I possibly can, study law. This is my plan,and tor two years I have been pursuing my Latin and. Greek 'with 'an eye te ageompliefing the schemee" n " I see.Fate has thumped none of your; origt t inal obstingscy. outbot ayou. Aubrey, suppose ~s I shut my eyes to the watch transaction, and s. take you into my office ?" . . "If so, I shall do my duty faithfully. But you said you did not need any one here, and though I am anxious to -find work I do not ex- peet orgdesire to be taken in from charity. I. intend to'. earn my wages, sir, and from your own account .1 should jdge you had very little use. for an assistant." " Humph,! a bountiful share of pride along with prodigious, obbtimacy. ' Though I am a lawyer, I told you the truth; I have no earthly use for such assistants as I have been plagued. with for several years. In the ngain, office- boys are-a nuisance, comparable only to the locusts. of Egypt; I washed my hands of the whole tribe months since. Now I have.a ne- gro to attend to my office, make fires, etc., and if I could only get an intelligent, ambitious, honorable, trustworthy young man, he would be a help to me. I had despaired of finding such, but, on: the whole, I rather like you; believe you cansuit me exactly if you will, and I am disposed to give you a trial. Sit down here and copy this paragraph; let me see what sort of hieroglyphics I shall have to decipher if I make you my copyist." Russell silently complied, and after. a care- ful examination it seemed the chirography was satisfactory. " Look there, Aubrey, does that array fright- en you ?" He pointed to the opposite side of the room, where legal documents of every shape and size were piled knee-deep for several yards. "They look formidable, sir, .but nothing would afford me more pleasure than to fathom their mysteries." " And what security can you give me that the instant my back is turned you will not i quit my work and go off, to my books yonder,' -which I notice you have been eyingvery greedily." "No security, sir, but the promise of ,.an honest soul to do its work faithfully and un- tiringly. Mr. Campbell,'I-understand my po-c sition thoroughly; .1 know only too well;that I have everything to make-an 'honorable name, an unblemished reputation .-and, relying only on myself, I expect to help myself. -f. you 1 really need an assistant, and think me trust- worthy, I will be very glad to serve 'you, and- shall merit your confidnee I come to you under adverse circumstances, with a tarnished t character, and of course you feel some hesi-c tancy in employing ume L have concealed 1 nothing; you're acquainted with all, the facts, f and must decide accordingly." s There was nothing pleading in his tone or I mien, but a proud, desperate calmness unu-. sual in one of his age. aWhen a truly honest,s noble soul meets an equal, barriers of position i andI age melt like snow-flakes in sunshine, allc extraneous circumstances fall 'away, and, di- c vested of pomp or ragst as. theta case may; bei th fl, undimmed majesty of' spirit :greets t spirit, and clear-eyed Sympathy, soaring above 's the dross and dust of worldly eonventionali- ties, knits them in bonds lasting 'as . Looking into-the resolute yet melancholy 4ace before.him, the lawyer forgot the poverty and disgrace clinging to his name, and leaning forward graspedhishand. "Aubrey, you and I can work peaceably to- gether ; I value your candor, I like your reso- lution. Come to me on Monday,.and ' the matter of salary, you 'shall find meiberal enough. I think you toldime you had a cousin as. well asyour mother to support.; I shall not forget it. Now,. good-morning, and leave me, unless you desire to accumulate, worker your- self." People called Mr. ,Campbell miserly," "egotistic," and "selfish." - These are harsh adjectives, and, the public frequently applies them with 'culpable haste and uncllaritable- tess, for there is an, astonishing proclivity] in human nature' to detract, to carp, to spy out, and magnify faults. If at allprone to gxer ous deeds;, Mr. Campbell certainly failed; to' placard them in public places; he had never given any large amount to any particular, church, institution, or society, but tiefew wbQ knew him well indignantly denied the charge of penuriousness preferred by the community. A most unsafe criterion is public estimation,; it canonizes many an arch-hypocrite and mar- tyrs many a saint.. CHAPTE R IV. From early childhood Irene had eaperi- enced a sensation of loneliness. ,Doubtless the loss of her mother enhanced this feeling, et the peculiarity of her mientalsorganitationi would have necessitated it even under happi0e auspices.' Her. intellect was of the masculine order, acute and logical, ratherdeficient in the imaginative faculties, but keeniyapalyti- cal. It is an old predicate, that womenare de- ductioniste--that womanflrintuitidnsare swift and infallible. In richly-endowed femalamiads it not. unfrquently happens that tedious,. reflective processes; are ignored; but 'Irene was a patient rather than brilliant thinher,- and with singular perseverance searched every : nook and-cranny, and sifted, every phase .ot the subject presentedefor investigation.' Hert conclusions were never hastfnd consequent. .y rarely unsound.. From the time her;baby- ingers first grasped4i. primer she became a student; dolls and toys such as constitite the happiness of mostchildren hadneve&Posssee[ any attraction, for her, andefore shewe:as eight years4old she ,made the' rary-,he' 1 vor. t resort. , e would, climb upon tha morrc.n' .o-coyereil tante th'lere stood two glphes,aone. elestial, th~e, othey' terrestrial, j; appends heit'a ii deciphering the, strange1 heathensh figure wined among the stai-s. When' er-y ofe tudying thee 'ndex of the thermometer aad page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] MACARIA. - 1 barometer, and wondering why the quicksilver varied with sunshine and shower,' she would throw herself down on the floor and 'fall asleep ovet the quaint pictures in an old English en- cyclopedia,' numbering thirty volumes. She haunted this room,,and grew up among books centlies old. Thus until her tenth year there was no authority exerted over her, 'and the strong, reflective tendency of her mind rapidly developed itself. This was an abnormal, con' dition, and indisputably an unfortunate train-' ing, and perhaps in after years it might have been better hadshe spent the season of care- less, thoughtless childhood in childish sports and childhood's wonted ways, for anxious inquiry land tedious investigations come soon enough with maturity. She was not an enthusiastic, impulsive nat- ure; fitful in moodiness or ecetacy, inclined to passionate demonstrations. of, any kind ; but, from infancy evinced a'calm, equable temper- amedt, uniformly generous and unselfish, but most thoroughly firm,,nay obstinate,in any matter involving principle or conflicting with her opinions of propriety.. How she- obtained these notions of right and wrong in minor de- tails, was a 'subject of some mystery. They weke not the result of education in the ordi- nary acceptation of that term, for they had never been instilled by anybody; and, likea wood-flower in some secluded spot, she lived, drew, and expanded her nature, without any influences to 'bias or color her views. In her promiscuous reading she was quite as apt to im- bibe poisonous as healthy sentiments; and knowing that she had been blessed with few religious instructions, her father often wonder- ed at the rigidness of her codtefor self-regular tion. ,Miss Margaret considered her "a strange little thing," and rarely interfered with her plans in any respect, while her father seemed to take it for granted'thatr she requi-ed no looking after. He knew that her beauty was extraordinary; he was proud of the fact; and having provided her-with agood music-master, and sent her to the best school in the county, he left her to employ her leisure as inclination prompted. Occasionally her will conflicted with his, and more than once he found it im- possible to make her yield assent to his'wishes. To the outward observan~ces of obedience and- respect she' submitted, b; whenever these dif- ferees occurred he felt that in 'the end she was unconquaered. 'Inconsistent' as it may ap- pear, though fretted for 'the time by her firm- ness,,'he 'loved her the more for' her "'iilful- ness," as he termed' it ; and despotic and ex- acting; though'1 certainly wasin many re- spects, he stood mewhat in awe of his pure- he-ated,.calm-eyed.chil. Hi s wa ridneh- instance nave rise to a deal of gossiping com- ment. ow the matter became public he never knew; probably Sparrowgrasse's "e - rier-pigeon" migrated southward, for it is now no uncommon thing to find one in our cities and country towns; and at all events Mr. Hun tingdon soon found that his private domestic affairs were made an ordinary topic of con- versation in social circles. Irene had never been officially apprised of her destiny, but sur- mised very accurately the truestate of the case. Between the two cousins there existed not the slightest congeniality of taste or disposition; not a sympathetic link, save the tie of relation- ship. On her part there was a moderate share of cousinly affection; on his, as much love and tenderness as his selfish nature was capable of feeling. They rarely quarrelled as most chil- dren do, ?or when (as frequently happened) he flew into a rage and tried to tyrannize, she scorned to retort in any way, and generally locked' him out of the library. What she thought' of her father's intentions' concerning herself, no one knew ; she never alluded tothe subject, and if in a frolicsometmood Hughs broached it, she invariably cut the discussion short. When he went to college in ahdistant state she felt infinitely relieved, and during his~ vacations secluded herself asmuch as possible. Yet the' girl's heart was warm and clinging; she loved her father devotedly, and loved most' intensely Electra Grey, whom she had first met at school. They were nearly the ,same age, classmates, and firm friends. That she was beautiful, Irene of course knew quite as well as her father or any one else; how could she avoid knowin it ' From her cradle she had been called" Queen" and "Beauty;" all her acquaintances flattered her-strangers om- mented onher loveliness; she no more doubted it than the fact of her existence; and often stopped before the large parlor mirrors and ad- mired her own image, just as she would have examined and admired andenjoyed one of the elegant azaleas or pelargonimus in the green- house. I repeat it, she prized and enjoyed her loveliness, but she was not vain. She was no more spoiled by adulation than a meek and snowy camellia, or one of those immense gold- en~eyed pansies which astonish and delight visitors at the hothouses on Long Island. God conferred, marvellous beauty on her, and 'she was grateful' for the gift--but to the miserable weaknesses 'of- vanity'she wa a stranger.) In the midst of books and rowe's she was happ and seemed to desire no companions but sre- bus and Paragon. She rode every day when the weather' permitted, and the, jetty horse, with its gr~eeful young rider, followed by the everyhill ndvrley ihi n ten milesof the found the earliest sprays of graybeard that powdered the forest. Often Mr. Huntingdon had ordered his horse andagone ou$, in the dusky twilight to'search for her, fearing that some disaster had overtaken his darling, and. at such times met Erebus laden with her favor- ite flowers., -'These were the things she loved; and thus, independent of society, yet conscious' of her isolation, she grew up what nature in- tended her to be. As totally different in'character as appear- ance was Electra Grey. Rather smaller and, much thinner'than Irene, with shining purplish black hair, large,' sad, searching black eyes,' from which there was no escape, a pale livee complexion, and full crimson lips that rarely smiled.' The forehead was broad and promi- nent, and rendered very peculiar by the' re- markable width between the finely-arched brows, The serene purity .characteristic of Irene's features was' entirely wanting,'in' this, face, which would have seemed Jewish in its contour but fbr the Grecian nose; and the melancholy yet fascinating eyes haunted the beholder with their restless, wistful, far-reach-. ing expression. Electra was a dreamer, richly gifted'; dissatisfied because she could never attain thatunreal world which her busy brain kept" constantly before her. The child of Genius is rarely, if evlr, a; happy one.-- "Heaven lies about us in our infancy." If so, its recollections cling tenaciously to those who, like Electra, seek continually for the airy castles of an ideas realm. Her vivid imagination shaped and painted, but, as too often happens, her eager blood and bone fingers could not grasp theglories. The thou- sand cares, hardships, and rough handlings of Reality struck gold and jarring' on, her sensi- tive, highly-strung nature. She did not com- plain; murmuring words had never crossed her lips in the hearing of any who knew her ? she loved her aunt too well to speak of sor- row or disappointment.' Fourteen years'-had taught her an unusual amount of stoicism, but sealed''lips- can not sepulchre grief, and trials have a language which will not be repressed when the mouth is at rest. She 'looket not gloomy, nor yet quite unhappy, but like one who sees obstacles mountain-high loom between her anq the destined goal, and ,sks only per- mission to press on.. Hers was a passionate nature ; fierce blood beat .in, heir veins,- and would not always be bound by icy fetters.I There was no serene plateau of theling where - she could repose ; she enjoy ed keenly, raptu-t rously, and suffered acutely, fearfulljyj Untbrt-Y the towering steeps crowned with the Teeple of Art. To. be an artist; to put on canvas the grand and imperishableinages that crow' ed her brain, and almost maddened her becauSe, she could lot give them tangible frin---this was the day-dreas spanning ,her life like :a bow of, promise, but fading; slowly : as ?eats thickened o'er her head and no helpingg hand cleated the choked path. "«Poverty I pover- ty I" Many a:night she buried her face und4 the pillow and hissed the word through closed teeth, fearful of disturbing the aunt 'whoslutn- bered at her side. Poverty'! poverty! What an intolerable chain it binds around aspiring souls I And yet 'the world's great :thinkers have felt this iron in their flesh, andybursting 'the galling bonds, have carved their way' to ,eminence, to immortality. 'It isalamentable' and significant truth that, with'a few honora- ble, noble, exceptions; wealth is the Canneof American intellect. -Poverty is a rigid, school, and the sessions, are long, and bitter ; but the men and women who graduate therein 'come forth with physical frames capable of enduring all hardships,.with hearts habituated f6 disap- pointment and fortified' against thie rebuffs of fortune, with intellects trained by patient, laborious, unbending application. The ten- derly-nurtured, child of wealth and luxury very naturally ,and reasonably shrines from difficulties; but increase the .obstacles in the path. of a son or daughter of penury, inured to trial, and in the same ratio you strengthen his or her ability and',determination to sur4 mount them. Electra's love of drawing had early dis- played itself; first, in' strange, -weird figures on her slate, then in her copy-book, on every slip of paper"which she could lay her hands . upon; an,.finally, for want of more suitable material, she scrawled all over the walls of the little bedroom, to the great horrorof her aunt, who spread a coat of whitewash 'over the child's frescos, and begged her to be guilty of no such conduct in future, as:Mr. ,Clark might with 'reat justice sue for denma es.n utter humiliation Electra retreated to the garden, and-here, after a shower hadsleft the sandy walks white and" smooth, .she would sharpen a bit of pine, and - draw figures and faces of all conceivable 'and d inconceivable,,ae C ncgtofd,'rths'eg d one Sunday afternoon, Russell supplied her , with a pack of drawing'p aper'and pancils. So long. as', these lasted, i was 'perfectly happy, but' unluckily their straitened'-dr- umtances admitted of no' suchexpenditure and before, many weeks. she was 'again without materials. 'She, would .not, tel 1ussell. -the t 1he ha xaitd"i pcae n.pse .Leepl wes nghtAti A Ng.L2-to devise some' ot.hqd1 MACARIA' 1 page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] MECAMIA. 23 22 MACARIA. time, because her aunts:could not al'ord the extra three dollars.. How longingly the eyes followed the master's form-boW hungrily they dwelt uyoux the -sketches he leaned, over to examine 'aid retouch !. Frequently during drawing-hour the would sit with 'her head bent down pretending to, study; but the pages of. the book were generally blistered with tears which no eye bit the Father's looked A:pon. There was, however, one enjoyment wich nothing could; steal from her : the town con- tained two book-stores, and here she was wont to liniet over the numerous engravings and occasional ,oil-paintings they boasted. The proprietors'and clerks seemed.rather pleased than otherwise by the silent homage she paid their pictures, and, except to tender her a seat, no on&ever interfered with her examina- tions. One engraving interested her particu- larly: it represented Ot. John on Patmos, writing Revelations.'° She went as usual one Saturday:morning for anothe*plook at it, but a different :design hung in its place; .she glanced around, and, surmising the object of her search the proprietor , told her .it had been sold the day- before.'- Anexpression of sorrow crossed her face, as though she had sustained an irreparable loss, and, drawing her bonnet down, she went slowly homeward. Amid all these 'yearnings and aspirations she turned constantly to Russell with a worship.. ing love that knew no bounds. She loved her meek, affectionate aunt as well as most natures-love 'their mothers, and did all in her 'power to li'h'ten her labors, but her affection for Russell Bordered on adoration. In a char- acter so exacting and passionate as hers there is, necessarily much of jealousy, and, thus 'it came to pasp that, on the day of Irene's visit to the .cottage, the horrible suspicion took possession of her that 'he loved Irene better than.herself. True, she was very young, but childish hearts feel as keenly as those of ia- turer years'; and Electra, endured more agony during that day -than in all of her past life. Had Irene been other than she was, in every respect, she would probably have hated ,her cordially ; as matters stood, she buried , the suspicion deep in her own heart, and kept as uch out of everybody's way as possible.1Days and weeks passed very wearily ; she busied herself with her text-books, and, when the lessons- had been recited, drew all over the margins-here a hand, there anynentire arm, now' and then a face, sad-eyed as Fates Mrs. Aubrey's eyes became so blurred that finally she could not leave the 'house without ! having some one to guide her, and, as cold weather had ;now arrived, prepatations were imade fo her journey. Mr. Hi1 , who was gO- ing to New, Orleans, kindly offered to take flcharge of her, and the day of' departure was 6xed. ' Electra packed the'little'trunk 'saw it peosited on the to of the stage, in the dawn ofan October morning saw her-aunt comforta- bly seated beside Mr.- Hill, and in another moment ali'had vanished. In the afternoon of that -day, on returning from school; Electra went to the bureau, and, unlocking a drawer, took out -a small paper box. It contained a miniature of her Mather, s';t in a handsome gbld frame. ,She knew it had'been her moth- er'samost valued trinket ; her aunt had care- fully kept it for her, and as often as the temp- tation assailed her she had resisted ; but now the longing for money triumphed over every other feeling: Having touched' the spring, she took a knife and cautiouslyremoved the bit of ivory beneath the glass, then deposited the two last in the box, putthe.gold frame in her pocket, and went out to a jewelry-store. As several persons: had preceded her, she leaned against the counter, and, while waiting, watched with some curiosity the movements of one of the goldsmniths, who, with a glass - over one eye, was engaged in repairing watches. Some had been taken from their cases, others were untouched; and as her eyes passed swift- ly over the latter, they were' suddenly riveted to a massive gold one lying somewhat apart. A half-smothered exclamation caused the workman-to turn round and look at her; but in an. instant she calmed herself, and, thinking it a mere outbreak of !impatience, he resume his employment. Just then one of the propri- etors approached, and said politely, "I am sorry we have kept you waiting, Miss. What can I do for you ?" " What is this worth ?" She laid the lodket down on the counter and looked up at him with eyes that sparkled very joyously, he thought. He examined it a moment, and said rather drily : " It is worth little or nothing to us, though you-may prize it." k; , " If I were to buyanother jest like it, would .you charge me.'little or nothing?' " He smiled good-humor'edly. " Buying and selling 'are different thing, don't you'now that ? Come, tell me wha you want to sell this for ?" " Because I want some money." " You are Mrs. Aubrey's niece, I believe ?" " Yes, sir."" "Well, how do I know, iii the first place, that it belongs to you ? Jewellers haveito be very particular about what they buy." She crimsoned, and drew herself proudly away from the counter, then smiled, and held. out her band for the l6eket. ,1 " It is ine ; it held my father's miniature, but I'took it out because I want a paint-box, and thought I could sell this case for enough', to buy one. It was my mother's once; here are her initials on the back-Hi. G., Hiarrat Grey.s But of course you don't know whether I am telling the truth ; I will bring my cousin with me; le can prove it. Sir, are .you so particular about everything you buy ?" "We tr to be." Again her eyes sparkled; she bowed, and left the store. Once in the street, she hurried to Mr. Camp- bell's office, ran up the steps, and rapped loudly. at the door. "'Comein" thundered tlte'lawyer, She stopped on the threshold, glanced round, and said timidly: " I want to see Russell, if you please." "Russell is at the post-office. Have you any particlar spite at mny door, that you belabor it, in that style'? or do you suppose I am as deaf as a ate-post?' - "' beg you pardon; I did not mean to startle you, sir. I was pot thinking of either you or your door." . She 'sprang down the- steps to wait on the' sidewalk for her cousin,, and met him at the entrance. " Oh, Russell! I have found your watch." A ray of light seemed to leap from his eyes as he seized her hand.- " Where ?" " At Mr. 'Brown's jewelry-store." " Thank God I" 'He went up the stairway, delivered the letters, and came back, accompanied by. Mr. Campbell. "This is my cousin, Electra Grey, Mr. Camp- bell." " So I inferred from the, unceremonious assault' she madae on my door just now. How- ever, shake hands, little lady; it seems.there is some reason for your haste. Let's hear about this precious watch business." - She simply told what she had seen, Pres- ently Russell said: ,. "But how did you happen there,'Electra " Your good*,angel sent me, I suppose ; -" and she added, in a whisper, " I will tell you some other time." 'On re-entering the store she walked at once to the workman's corner and pointed out the watch. " Yes, it is mine. I would know it among a' thousand." " How can you identify it, Aubrey ?" He immediately gave the number, and name of the manufacturer, and described the interior tracery, not omitting the quantity of jewels. Mr. Campbell turned to the proprietor (the same gentleman with -whom Electra had con- versed), and briefly recapitulated the circum- stances which had occurred in connection with the watch. Mr. Br6wn -listened attentively, then requested Russell to point out the particu- lar one that resembled his. He did so, and on examination the number, date, name, and all the marks corresponded so exactly that no doubt remained on the jewelle s di . "Young man,-you say onu were ac'6used1 of stealing yog Own watch ' "Then I will try to clear your name. .This watch was brought here several Neeks sm~ed, *hile I was absent. I aup very guarded in such matters, hd 'require my otig n Jere to take a certificate of the name 'and ?laceof residence of all ftran'ers who ofre artwies'f r sale or excl ang e. Oncee. eY innocently bought som6 stored property, aid it taught me a lesson. This watchtwas sold for: nimit' dol- lars by a mhan named Rnfus Tirner, 'who'ives in New Orleans, No. 240 -- street. I will write to him 'jt once, and find o14j if 'ossib4, how it came into his 'possessin.I 'rather think he had some horses hero for sale." "Did he wear green glasses ?" inqu red Russell of 'the young man who had yurehased the watch. "Yes, and had one amin a sing. "I saw such a man here about the tim y watch was missing." After soma directions from Mi.. Capbell concerning the 'proper course to be prsued, Electra drew out her locket, saying.- " Now, Russell, is not this locket min? " Yes; but where 'is the'miiature ? Wha are you going to do with it ?" " The miniature, is it home, but T apt t, sell the frame, and Mr. 'Brown does iot know but that it is another watch case ?" "" If it is necessary, I will swear that 'it be. longs lawIlly to you; but what do you want to sell it for'? I should think you would prize,. it too highly to be willing to part with it.",' " I do prize the miniature, and would not part with it for any consideration; but I want something far more than a gold case to keep it mn." " Tell" me what you want, and I will get it for you," whispered her cotfh. "No ; I am going to self this frame," "And I an going to buyit from you," said the kind-hearted iperchant, taking it from her hand and weighing it;. Russell and Mr. Campbell left the store, and soon after Mr. Browd paid 'lectra sevral dollars for the locket. In half an hour she had purchased a smill box of paints, a supply of drawing-paper and' pencils, and returned hom, happier 'and prouder than mny an empress 'whose jewels have equalled those of .the Begums of Onde. She had cleared Russell's character,,and her hands were pressed over her 'heart to still its rapturous throbbing. Happy as an unepged bird, she arranged the tea4able and..sat dVwi to wait for him. fTe came at last, later than usual, and' then she had be*reward, he htook her in his arms 'and kissed her.' Yet, while his ip rested on hers, irene' image rqse'be. fore her, and he Felt der shiver As se clungt him. e was her idol, and the i barle u ion of his loving anothere matter chill' 'ths blood in her ven. Xge spoke little of te wabh, a kred to mis his m te 4 hi ef ignorajit han *d lisW t pd xin hiousin's hear-t; how little he sui fetd thl iu*nsityof page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 MARIA. her feelings! Constantlyoecupied during the dad, he rarely .thought of her away from - home;.and though always li d and consider- ate, he failed to understand 'her nature, or fullya preci te her affection for him. Mpny day'ea sed before M . Turner's answer ar- rived.T e stated that he.had won the watch from'sCecil. Watson .at a horse-race, where both were betting and proved the orrectness of his aiertion by reference toseveral persons who were present,,andY who resided in the own. .issel had' suspectedeil from the' moment of its 'disappearance, 'ud now, pro- vided with both letter and watch, and. accom- aniedby Mr. Brown, he repaired to Mr. Watson's store.'- Russell had been insulted, his nature w1;s stern,,and now he exulted -in the power of disgracing thesop of the man who had wronged him. There'was .no flush- on his face, but a cold, triumphant glitter in is eyes as he approached his former employ- er, and laid watch and letter before him.Y " What business have you here ?" growled the.merchant, trembling before the expression of the boys countenance. "oMy business is to clear my character which you have slandered, and to fix the disgrace you intended for ne on your own son. I brig youthe proofs of his, not my villany." g "Come into the back room; I will see Brown another time," said Mr. Watson, growing paler each moment. " No, sir; you were not sp secret in your dealings with me. Here where yod insulted me you shall hear the whole truth. Read that.' I suppose the twenty-dollar gold 'Piece followed the watch." . The unfortunate father perused the letter slowly, and smothered a groan. Russell watch-, ed him with a keen joy *hich he might have blushed to acknowledge had ,he analyzed his feelings. Writhing under his empaling eye, Mr. Watsn4aid: " Have you applied to the witnesses referred to?"s , , "uYes; they are ready to swear that they saw Cecil bet Turner the watch."- "You did, not tell them the circumstances, did you?. "'Well, it is an unfortunate affair ;. I want it dropped as quietly as possible. - It will never do to have, it known far and Wide." .a ha I you can feel the sting now. But reanbar you took care to circulate the slan- der ongny name. I heard of it. You did not spar me, you did not spare my mother ; and, Jacob Watson, neither willI spare you. You never eliee me guilty, but you' hated me IL and gloried ij n opportunity of injuring mel Dlo you 'sppgie I shall shield your unprinci- pled son for your sake ? You showed me:4 n mercy ; you may expect aslittle. The stopf of the watph shall make its way 'Whlerever we-" He paused suddenly, for the image of is entle, forgiving mother rose before him, and e knew that she would be grieved at the- spirit he evinced. There was an awkward silence, broken by Mr. Watson. 1f I retract all that I have said against you, and. avow your innocence, will it satisfy you? Will you be silent about Cecil ?'' "No!" rose peremptorily to ,his lips, but he checked it,;. and the patient teaching of years, his mother's precepts and his mother's prayers brought forth their first fruit-golden Charity. "You merit no forbearance at my hands, and I came here intending to ahow you none ; but,,on reflection, I will not follow your exam- ple. Clear nay name before the public, and I leave. the whole affair with you. There has nevpr been any love between us, because you were always despotic and ungenerous, but I tam sorry for you now, for you have taught me how heavy is the -burden you have to bear in future. Good-morning" Afraid to trust himself, he turned, away and' joined Mr. Campbell in the office. In the afternoon of the same day came a letter from Mr. Hill containing sad news. The oculist had -operated on Mrs. Aubrey's eyes, but violent inflammation had ensued-; he had done all that scientific skill could prompt, but feared she would be hopelessly blind. At the close of the letter Mi. Hill stated that he would bring her home the following week. One November. evening, just before dark, while Russell was cutting wood for the kitch- en-fire, the stage stopped at the cottage-gate, and he hurried forward to receive his mother in his arms. ,It was a melancholy reunion; for a moment the poor sufferer's fortitude for- sook her, and she wept. But his caresses soothed her, and she followed Electra into the house while he broucht- in the trunk. When shawl and bonnet iad been removed, and Electra placed, her in the rocking-chair, the light fell on face and, figure, and the cous- ins.started at the change that had taken place. She was so ghastly pale, so very much reduced. 'She told them all that had occurred during the tedious-weeks, of absence ; how much she regretted having gone since the trip proved so unsuccessful; how much more she deplored the affliction on their account than her own ; and then from that hour no allusion was-ever made to it. CHAPTER V. Weeks and months slipp away, and total darkness came down on e widow. She groped 'with,some 'diiculty frorp room to room, and Electrawas compelled to remain at home and watch over ,her. Russell had. become a great favorite withl.his crusty engl~oyer, and, when the labors of 'the office were ended, , ,brought hopme such books-'as he 'needed, and.. spent his evenings in study. His powers of I MACARIA applipatipn 'and endurance, were extraordi-' nary; and his progress was in the same ratio. As he became more nd more ashorbes Ino these pursuits 'his 'erve andetaciturnityy in- creased, and his habiitually' hasty step and, ab- strActed expression of eountenance told of a strong nature straining at powers to 'the ut- most to attain some 4dstantglimmering goal. His employer was partieMariy impressed b the fact'that he ever voluneered, remiark on any subject, and rarlyopened ha lips ext' cept to ask some necessary in foniation in connection with his business. Sometimes the silence of the office wasnugbroken+ for hours, save by the dull setichra ig ofipens, oran impatient exclamation from ,.Mr.Campbell. Respectful in deportment, attentive tois dus- ties, never presuming upon kindness, constant- ly at work from morning until night, yet with an unmistakable sorrow printed on his face-- a sorrow never obtrudedon anyone, never alludied-to-he won firt the rigid scrutiny of the lawyer, then his deepest, most abiding affection. Naturally cold and undemonstra- tive in manner, Mr. Campbell gave .,little evi- dence of feeling of any kind, yet the piercing blue eye lost its keenness when resting onvthe tall, stalwart form of the clerk, and once ;or- twice the ,wrinkled hand sought his broad' shoulder almost caressingly.. Head not mar- ried; had neither other nor sistersto keep his nature loving and gentle; and, though he occasionally visited his brother, who, was a minister-in the same town, he was held in awe by the members of thap brother's family. He comprehended Russell's character, and quietly facilitated'his progress. , There was no -syco- phancy on the part of the young man; no patronage on that of the employer. One afternoon Irene tapped lightly at the cottage-door, and entered the kitchen. . Mrs.' Aubrey sat in alow chair close to the fireplace, engaged in knitting ; 'her smooth, neat calico dress and spotless, linen collar told that care- ful hands tended her, and the soft auburn hair brushed ofer her temples showed broad bands of gray as the evening sun shone on it. She turned her brown, sightless eyes toward- the door, and asked in a low voice : "Who is it ?" "It is only me, Mrs. Aubrey." Irene best down, laid her two hands on the widow's, and kissed her forehead. "I am glad, to hear your''voice, Irene; it has been a long time since ypu were here." "Yes, a good many weeks, I'lnow ; ,but I could not come" ''' "Are you well? Your hands and face are 1 cold." " Yes, thank you, very well. I am always cold, I believe. Hugh says Iam. Here are some flowers from the greenhouse. I brought them because they are sofragrant; and here, I too, are a few oranges from. the sane, p lace. I Rush!I don't thank med f you please. I wish 25 J could cone here oftener. I always f'el bet- ter after being with you; but I can't 1ways come when I want to do so."' " Why not, -Irene ?" " Oh, because of various things. 'etween school and music, and riding and reading, I have very little time; and, besides, father wants me with him when lhe, is athong I play chess with him, an4, sometimes:.weSare three orifour days finishing one game. Some- how; Mt-.Aubrey, though I don't meanto be idle, it seems.to me that I dorvery little, 'Ev- erybody ought to-be of some use imthisagld, but I feelslikaa bunch of mistletoe grgwin ndsomebogy else, and ding nothing. I dan t intend 'to sit down and hold my hands all my life,; bt what can I do? 'Tell me how, to begin" Shelifted:a large tort ise-elored cat from a small stool audIdrew.it near the hearth, just at,the widow's feet, seating herselfgand re- moving, her hat. '.E That is more easily asked than ans-ered; you are a great heiress,, Irene, and 'in all lnt- man probability will, never be. obliged todo anything.. For what is;generally denominated work, you.will have no occasion; but alb*ho wish to he really happy should be em.loedin some way. 'ou will not have to laborfar your fqod and clothes like, my Russel';and Electra ,bit you will have it in your poer to do a vast deal more good. In cut va ting your mind, do not forget your-heart;, itisnat- urally full of very generous noble ipilses; but'all human beings have faults; what yours may be you know best, and you-shouldcon- stantly strive to correct them. Read your' Bible, dear child; .not' now end then, but daily and prayerfully, Oh, Irene I -bave bad some bitter, bitter sorrows, and ,frequently I thou ht that {they would crush "put my 'e In .those times of trial, f I had 'nothdmy Bible and my God I believe I should.hav; lost my reason. But I read and wascomfortad. His promises sustained me ; and iin loking back I see manyplaces which souldbealled Jehovah-Jireh, for the Lord saw and provided. Your Bible will teach you your duty mnaeh better than I possibly can. You'.owe 'your father a great deal; his hopes-and joys centre in you, and through life he .wil- look;to you for his happiness. When yon are growp, sci- ety, too, will claim you; you. will be sought after and flattered; and,Jrene,enader these circunstan es-with your remarkable beauty and wealth-you will find it a{liffieult s0atter to avoid being spoiled. Yqur In unce will be nary great, and adkeafulresponsibility munt,'attend its';employ est.ha it b o Try 'tkepgor hea frtoe 5sh or ignoble- feedag ; pryt o for- uiance, that you mayb eabldtr Eis grace to kepyourdlf'ngspotted qa the world;' those words, contain he hoa Eunspotted from *&k world' Yo have no I1' I .9 r l , page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 [ACATRAIA. been ',poiled thus far by luxury and life-long petting, and I hope and believe that you never will be ; but remember, we must be continu- ally on the watch against temptation. Irene, have Iipoken too plainly ?" "No; I thank you for'your edndor. I want you to advise me just as you would Electra. I don't read My Bible as often as I ought, btt there are'so many things in it-which ITdq nt understand .that I hardlyever epn it now. I have nobody to explain the-diffulties." "It is very clear on the subject of our duty; God:left not the shadow of mystery in his la*s for 'thle government'of the heart and regula* tiondf the life. He commands Iis to receits tertain rules, to practice certain principles, and to abstain from certain sinful= things, 'all' of which are"specified, and not to be mistaken by even the most .obtuse. Melvill has' aid, in one of his beautiful and comforting sermons: ' God breathed himself into the compositiQas of prophets and apostles and evan gelsts, and there as in the mystic recesses of aneverlast- ing anctuary, he still-resides, ready to -dis- elose himself to the humble and to be evoked. bytheprayerful. But in regard to everi- other -book, however fraught it may be with the iaxims of piety, however pregnant with tnumentbus truth, there is nothing of "this shining himself of Deity:in the. depths Of its ineaning. Men may be instructed by its p aes, and draw from them hope and consolation, iut never Will they fh d there the burning She- kinal which proclaims the actual pretense of God; nover hear n voice as from the solitudes of an oracle pronouncing the words of iinior- tality .' How then does it happen, Mrs. Aubrey, that different churches teach such conflicting dootrines ? Why are there d dmany denoini- nstions ?. If the teachings of the Bible are so' plain, how can sudh various creeds arise ?'. 'Because poor -hukhan nature is so full of foibles.;because charity, the fundamental doe- trine of Christ, is almost losteight of by those. ehurOhes; it has dwindled into a mere speck, in comparison with the' trifles which they have' magnified to user its place. Instead of once great Christian church h ldi the doctrines of the New Testament, praetising the true spirit of the Saviour, andin geilumne charity alowing-its members to judge 'for themselves in the minor' questions relating to religion- sLk0 for instance as the mode'of baptism, the privilege of believing presbyters and bishops equfl:in' dignity or otherwise, asthe ease may be, the necessity ofininisters wearing surplices or theoontrary, as individual taste dictates- we :have variousadenomlinations, all'erected to promulgate soine particular dogina, to mi'fy add exl :as allbhnipotant somne trifling difr- ence in~he formn of ,hurch-governmhent. Once established, the menibers of' each sect- flf themselves to the aggradisierent of 'their peculiar church; and thus it -comnes 'to pass that instead of one vast brotherhood, united against sin and infidelity, they are disgracefully *'angling about sectarian matters of no eon- sequene *hate er.' In all this there is nitch totally antagohistic totheiprinciplesinceBafted by ourSaviour, 'who expressly denounced the shortiighted'bigotiy of those who nma nified externalobservances and ndn-essentials' t' the expenserof the genuine spiritof their religion. I wish most earnestly that these denomiiatin- al bi rriers 4and distinctions could bheswept away thatthe names of Methodist and Epis- copal; Presbyterian and Baptist could be obliterated, and"that all the members were gathered barmonidusly into one world-wide -pale,the iuratestaut'Chatrch of our Lord Jesus Christ." "-Mrs. Aubrey, do you beIdng to any chut'ch ?", " Yes, Irene, because Christ founded a church, -ahd I think every ian and woman should belong to some religious organization. Moreover, unless a member of some one of the denominations, you can not commune; and, asihe acrament particularly established by our Saviour, all ought to be able to partake of-It. I think it a matter of little consequence which of the evangelical sects one selects- Do not imagine that I believe people can only be saved b7 entrance into some. church ; I think no such thing ; the church is a valuable instrument, but 'God who established it can work without it. Still, it is very reasonable to suppose that regular attendance on divine service fosters piety, and keeps the subject of our duty more'constantly before us." She had fiished her knitting, aid sat with her thin hands folded -in her lap-the meek face more than usually serene, the sightless eyes directed 'toward h'er visitor. Sunshine flecked the bare boards under the window, flashed on the tin vessels ranged on .the shelves, and lingered like . a halo around Irene's head. Her hair swept on the floor, and- the cat played now and then with the golden rings so softly as not to attract notice, as though cotisciousthe new toy was precious. The countenances of the group contrasted vividly : the sweet resignation 'of the blind sufferer, the marble purity of Irene's face, and, just in the rear, Electra's broad, pale brow and restless, troubled, midnight eyes. The latter had been drawing at the table in the middle ,of the room, and now sat leaning on her hand, watching the two at the fire. . Presently Irene approached and began to examine the draw- ings, which were fragmentary, except one ot two heads, and',a sketch taken 'from the bank opposite the Falls. After some moments passed in ilobked over them, Irene addressed the tjuet little figure. n v you been to Mr. Clifton's studio ?" " No;wh6ois he?" " An Mtist from 'New York. His health is poor-, and he is speriding the winter Sodth. Have n't you heard of him ? Everybody is having portraits taken. He is painting mine now-father would make me sit again,t hogh he has a likeness which- was painted four years ago. .I am going down to-morrow 'for. my last sitting, and should like very much for you tp go with inc. Perhaps Mr. Clifton 'can, give you some valuable hints. Will yougo ?" "With great pleasure." "Then I will call for you a little before ten o'clock. Here are some crayons I bought for you a week ago. . Good-by." She left the room as quietly as'she had entered, and found Paragon waiting for her at-the door. He gambolled before her all the way-now darting off, and as suddenly re- turning, to throw himself at her feet and wonder w'hy she failed to caress him .as usual. Other thoughts engaged her now,; she could see nothing but the form of the widow, and to-day she realized more than ever before how much she needed a mother. Low, sweet, gen- tle tones rarely fell upon her ear, and, except her father and Dr. Arnold, no one had ever attempted-to caress her.. She wearied of. the fourteen years of isolation, and now on enter- ing her fifteenth looked about her for at least one congenial spirit. She knew of none-but Electraand Mrs. Aubrey -who in. any degree sympathized with her, and from these she was debarred by parental interdit. Miss Mar- garet, seconded by Mr, Huntingdon, now constantly prescribed a course of 'conduct detestable to the girl, who plainly ,perceived that as she grew older these differences.-in- creased. Was it her duty to submit unhesi- tatingly to their dictation ? Did the command of-filial obedience embrace all such matters, or was it modified-limited by the right of individual conscience ? This consultation was long and patient, and the conclusion unalter- able. 'She would do what she believed to be proper, whatever she thought her duty, at all hazards: She had no ones to guide her, and must rely only on God and her 'own heart. The following day Mi's Margaret accom- pinied -her to the studio. As the carriage approached the cottage-gate Irene directed the driver to stop. " For what ?" asked her aunt. "Electra'Grey is going with me.; I prom- ised to call for her. She ias an extraordinav talent for drawing, -and I want to: introduce her to Mr. Clifton. Open the door, Andrew." "Irene, are you deranged? Your father never would forgive you if he knew"you-asso- ciated -with those people. I ca't think of allowing that girl to enter this enriage. Drive on.' I. must really speak to Leoada about your obstinacy in visitang'attihat-" " Stop, Andrew I If yo edoiu't choose 4to ride with Electra, Aunto " rgaet you may go on alone, for either she shal ide -or I will' walk with her." Andrew opened the door, and she was stepping out, when Electra appeared in 'the wa k and-immaediately joined er.7 Miss Mat- garet was thoroughly 'aroused and indig ant, but thought,- it best - to submit for the 'time, and when Irene; introduced her friend'she took no notice of her whatever, ekeptiby drawing herself up in one corner and iowev- ing her veil. 'The gis talked dring 'the remainder-of thearde, and when they rathti Mr.-"Clifton's door raniusp the 'steps togethe', totally unmindful of ,the august 'lady's ill- 'humor. The artist was standing before aneael which held. Irene's unfinished portrait,;andas he turned to greet 'his visitors Electra 'saw that, though thin and pale, his face was one of rare beauty and 'benevolence. Hisebrown curling hair hang loosely about his shoulders, and an uncommonly long beard of the same silky texture descended almost to his waist.' He shook hands with Jrene, 'and looked 'in- quiringly at her companion. u Mr. Clifton, this is Miss Electra 'Grey, whose drawings I mentioned to you last week. I wish, if you please, you would examine some of them when you have leisure." Electra looked for an instant into his large, clear gray eyes as 'he took her drawings, and said he. would be glad to a sist her, and 'knew that henceforth the tangled path would 'be smoothed and widened. She stood at the.back of his chair during the hour's sitting,-and with eculiar interest .watched'the strokes o'f his brush as the portrait grew under his practisea hand. When ,Irene rose, the orphan moved away and began -to' seratinize the numerous pictures scattered -about the room, A' gret joy filled'her 'heart and illuiidnediher faceand she waited-for the wbrds bf 'eacouiagtient that she felt assured would' be spoken. The artist looked 'over her sketehe5' slowly, carefnl- ly, and his eye went back 'to 'her brilliant countenance,.as if to read'there answer' to ci- phers which perplexed 'hiin. 'Bat etiore baffling crypt hy met him in 'the deep; flashing ,ppealin° eyes on thecritson, qui^ ring ips,"on the lo; 1;ullbrow,'with'its *ide ly-separatedblack arches: Evidently the fbee possessed farmore -attraction than the draw wings, and ,he' made} her sit .down beside hi , and passed his hand over her 'head and tem- ples, as a professed !phrenologist night prepi- atory to rendering=a chart. "Your sketches are'very rough, otdet, but they also display great poweroft ou ht some of themtsingular beauty of conde ir and I see fram your countenance that 'yeu arO dissatisfied} because the exeesktion -fallsso4 short- f the conception.Letamentalk to candidly ou have ubotirnon talefnt* the most exalod eniis csa not disp use ith laboidasttudy.'Ml4h1eV* elostumhnatot my for twelvyepasya wil requie Iog'nd darnektapjyliatioi b alyotcan 'o ib3 ac.. complish anythigfn p i&~ co. Thestadydf tI M-A ARWA. ' 27 page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 MAC. Art is no mere pastime, as some people sup- ose ; an artist'slife is an arduous one at best. have been told something of your history; you are very poor, and wish to make painting a profession. Think well before you decide this, matter; remember that long, 'tedious mortls mutt elapse before you can hope to execute even an ordinary portrait. You must acquaint yourself with the anatomy of'the hu- man system before syou- undertake anything. I thought I had finished my course seven years o, but I went to Italy and soon saw that I had only begun to learn my'profession. Think well of allthis." , "1 have thought of it; I a willing to work any number of years ; I have decided, and I am not be frightened from my purpose. I am poor, I can barely buy the necessary mate- rials, much less the books, .b'ut J will be an artist yet. I have decided, sir; it is no new whim; it has been a bright dream to me all my life, and I am determined to realize it." "'Amen; so let it be, then. 'I shall remain here some weeks longer; come to me every day at ten o'clock, and I will instruct you. You shall'have such books as you need, and. with perseverance you have nothing-to fear." He went into the adjoining room and re- turned with a small volume. As he.gave it to her, with some directions concerning the con- tents, she caught his hand to her lips, saying 'hastily: " My guardian angel certainly brought you here to spend the winter. Oh, sir IIwill prove my gratitude for your.goodness show- ing that I am not unworthy of it. thank you from the very depths of myglad heart." As she released his h and left the studio he found two bright drops on his fingers-drops called forth by the most intense joy she had ever known. Having some commission from her aunt, she did not re-enter the carriage, and4 after thankin ;Irene for her kindness, - walked away. The, ride home was very silent ; Miss Margaret tat stiff and icy, looking quite insulted, while, her neqe was too much engrossed by other reflections:to notice, her. The latter spent: the remainder of the morn- ing in writing to Hugh and correcting her French exercises, :ands when summoned to-, dinher she -entered the room expecting a storm. A glatice sufficed to show her that Miss ' Margaret had not .yet -spoken to her father, though it was evident from her coun- tenance thatshe was about to make what she considered ,an important revelation, ,The meal passed, however,:without any allusion to the.ssbjct, 'and; knowing what lshe had to expect, lrene immediately withdrew to the library to give her a1gut ansopportunity of un- burdening her- mind. Thee srgle must come some time, and she longed to have it over as tooas as .possible. She threw up the sash, seated hxerself'on the bread cadar window-sill, and began to work out a sum in algebra. ARIA. Nearly a half-hour passed ; the slamming of the dining-room door was like the first line or' foam curling and whitening the sea when the tempest sweeps forward ; her father stamped into the library, and the storm broke over her. "Irenerl did n't I positively order you to keep away from that Aubrey family? ,What do you mean by setting me at defiance in this way, you wilful, spoiled, hard-headed piece ? Do you suppose I intend to put up with your obstinacy all my life, and let you walk rough- shod overme and my commands ? You have queened it long enough, my lady. If I don't rein you up, you will turn your aunt and me out 'of the house next, and invite that precious Aubrey crew to .take possession. Your con- founded stubbornness will ruin you yet. You deserve a good whipping, Miss; I can hardly keep my hands off of you." ..'- He did not ; rough hands seized her shoul- ders, jerked her from' the window-sill, and slook her violently. Down fell book, slate, and pencil with ,a crash; down swept the heavy hair, blinding her. She put it back, folded her hands behind her as if for support, and, looking up at him, said in a low, steady, yet grieved tone: " I am very sorry, you are angry with me, Father." " Devilish sorry, I dare say ! Don't be hyp- ocritical! Did n't I tell you to keep away from those people ? Doui't stand there. like a block of stone; answer me I" " Yes, sir ; but I did not promise to do so. I am not hypocritical, Father." " You did not promise, indeed-I What do I care for promises.? It was your duty to obey me." ".I don't think it was, Father, when you re- -fused to give me any reason for avoiding Mrs. Aubrey or her family. They are unfortunate,: but honorable people ; and, being very poor and afflicted, I felt sorry fog them. I can't see how my going there occasionally harms you, or me, or anybody else. I know very well that you dislike them, but you never told me why, and I can not imagine any good reason for it. Father,,if I love' them, why should not I associate with them ?" "1Becagse I say you shan't ! you tormenting,' headstrong little imp !" - " My Father, that is no reason." "Reason! I will put you where you will have, no occasion for .reasons. Oh! I can match you, you perverse little wretch ! I am pg to send you, toa boarding-school, do you ear that'st send you where you will have no Aupreys to abet your obstinacy. and disobe' dience ; where that temper of yours can be curbed. Hlow will you. relish getting up be- fore day, kindling your own fire, if you have any, making .your own bed, and living on bread and water? I will take you to New York,. and keep you there till you are grown MACARIA. 29 and learn common sense. Now get out of my With a stamp of rage he, pointed to the door. Hitherto she had stood quite 'still, but now an expression of anguish passed swiftly over her face, and she put out her hands ap- pealingly- "Father! my Father! don't send me away!I Please let me stay at home." "Not if I live long enough to take you.. Just as certainly as the sun shines in heaven, you will go as ,soon as your clothes can be" made. Your aunt vill have you ready in a week. Don't open your mouth to me ! I don't want to hear another word from you. Take yourself off." She picked up heir slate and, book and left the room. Her hat hung on the rackin the hall, and, taking it down, she passed out through the rear piazza. Paragon leaped and, whined at sight of her; she unchained him, and, leaving the yard; turned into a nar-, row zigzag path leading in an opposite direc- tion from the .front of the house. The build- ing stood by quite a hill, 'one side of which sloped down to the brink of a creek that emp- tied itself into the ,river :a mile above the town. This declivity was thickly wooded, and,, on the opposite side of -the stream, a dense swamp stretched away. Cypress, pine,,beech, magnolias, towered far as the eye could reach, and now, in the gathering gloom of evening, looked sombre and solemn. This was a favorite haunt of Irene's; she knew every nook of the forest and bend of'the creek as well as the shy rabbits that flitted away at her approach;. and tn this occasion she sought a rude seat form- ed by the interlacing of two wild grape-vines. At her feet the channel ran deep and strong, and the rocky bed was distinctly seen; -but a few yards off the stream widened into a small, lake, and there, on its dark, still surface masses of water-lilies spread out their broad, green, glossy leaves. It was a lonely place;' even in the. day owls hooted one to another; and strange, harsh cries'were heard, from birds that never forsook the swamp. It was April, early April, and from the hill-side, fringed with honeysuckles of varied hue, and'festooned with yellow jasmine that clambered in wild luxuri- ance over tree and shrub, the southern breeze wafted spicy, intoxicating aromas. ,Redbuds lifted their rosy limbs against dark, polished magnolias, and here and there masses of snow told where the dogwoods grew. Clusters of violets embroidered tm -hill-side, and crimson, woodbine trailed over the ground, catching at every drooping bough, and'climbing stealthily, anxious, like all weak natures, to hang on= something sturdy. Ireneusually revelled amid this wealth of floral beauty, but now she could not enjoy it. She looked at her favorites, and understood what was meant. by the words- "I see thor all so excellent i rir, I see, not feel, how beautiful they are." . The first great grief of her life had fallen on her ; heretofore all* had been so:serene, so flowery, that she could not easily understand or endure the crushing weight on her heatt. Reared in seclusion the thought of being sent from hersbeautiful, luxurious home, and thrust among utter 'strangers, startled and filled her with dread. She was astonished, pained, and mortified by her father's harsh language; and, loving him very sincerely, she shrank from the long separation he threatened; yet, amid all these complex emotions, she felt not the slight- est regret for the 'course she had pursued; under similar circumstances she would again act just as she had done. Then came the re- membrance that she might meet her unfort- unate friends no 'more. Mrs.. Aubrey was evidently declining rapidly, and what would become of Electra and Russell ? They might move away; they, too, might die; nay, she might never come back to the home of her birth; death's harvest was 'in all-seasons, and, looking upon the lakelet, she shuddered and., moaned. The snowy water-lilies glanced up at her, and seemed to say, as they trembled unceasingly in the current fair below the sur- face, "Bend I bend I" A passage in Dante, which.she had read the week before, crossed her mind now,. as she noted 'the constant swaying of the fragile flowers, so impotent to resist that undercurrent sweeping their roots: No other plant, Covered with leaves, or hardened in'its stalk There lives, not bending.to thewater's sWay." He had selected reeds as a type of Patience, but the pale, pure, quivering lilies were to her a far more impressive symbol of Resignation. An aged gnarled cypress towered above her, and from the knotted limbs. drooped long funeral wreaths of gray'moss, fluttering mourn- fully in the'evening 'wind, like badges of crape 'in houses of death. From amid this sombre drapery came, the lonely hoot of an owl, and, with a strange sensation of desolation, Irene fell on her knees and committed herself to the care of the'Great Shepherd. Darkness'closed around, but as she prayed the silver 'rays of the evening-star peered down through the trembling streamers of moss and gleamed on' the upturned' faeg. She broke one'of the lilies, and,'fastening it among her curls, followed Paragon up the hill-side. The week'which succeeded was wretched to the girl, for her father's surveillance'prevented her fromvisiting the cottage, even to sayadieu to' its 'inmates; and eno alternative presented' itself but to leave for them (in the hands of Nellie,'her devoted nurse) a' note containing a few parting words and assurances'of unfading friendship ~and -rememrbrance. -The day ' of departue dawned rainy, loomy, and the wind - sobbed and wailed down the avenue as Irene steod 'at her wind~wlooking .out on~ the lawn where her life had beei passed. Although Nlie was weeping bittrl t 'er side, she. page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] CMACAR8A. 31 hadnot shed a tear ; but they face was full of' grief, and her little hands were clasped tightly asthe faithful nurse pressed them affectionately inher palms. Disengaging herself; Irene took an umbrella and went to tje stable for a last look ,at Erebus. This tried her sorely, and her lip was unsteady when she left him and sought Paragon. The latter, little suspecting the true state of' affairs, gambolled and whined as joyously as ever at her approach ; and, when the'crowned head went down moaningly on his silky neck, he barked and frisked in recognition of .the caress. The breakfast-bell summoned her away, and, a half-hour after, she saw the lofty columns of the old house fade from view, and knew that, many months, perhaps years, must elapse before the ancestral trees of the long avenue would wave again over the headof their young mistress. Her. father sat beside her, moody and silent, and, when the brick wall and arched iron gate vanished from her sight, she sank' back in one corner, and, covering her face with her hands, smothered a groan and fought desperately with her voiceless anguish. CHAPTER VI. Youth is hopeful, beautifully hopeful, and fresh pure hearts rebound from sorrow with wonderful elasticity. When clouds lower and the way seeaps dark and tangled, Hope flies forward, pioneer-like, to. clear away all obsta- cles. Huge barriers frowned between Electra and the heights she strained every nerve to reach,.but never for an instant did she doubt the success of' the struggle. Like Orpheus seeking Eurydice, to look back was fearful and hazardous; and, fixing her eyes steadily. on the future, she allowed herself no haunting. foreboding. - " Cry, faint notI climb the summit's slope -eyond the furthest figts of hope, Wriapt in dense cloud from base to cope." What human powers can endure and ac- complish is to be measured only by the neces- sity which goads, and all herculean trophies are won by desperate needs. The laws which govern our moral and intellectual natures are as rigid and inevitable in their operation as those whose wrkig we constantly trace in the physical orld-o' which truth the, history of nations and memoirs of great, men furnish innumerable exemplifications. Consequently it is both unjust and illogical to judge of the probability of this or thatevent or series of events, or.the naturalness of 'this or that char- acter, whether in authenticated history or fic- tit ous works, without a thorqugh acquaintance with. alt antecedents and the various relations surrounding the actor, Reader, as you walk side by side with these whose lives 1 am-nar- rating, bear this in mind--the silver-winged pigeons that/flash in a44 out of the venerable trees shading the old homestead, and coo and flutter amid the rainbow-spray of the fountain, would droop, shiver, and die on bald, awful Alpine pinnacles, where in the fierce howl and scourging of tempests eaglets wheel in triumph, and scream defiantly ; and tender pet lambs, coaxed into flowery, luxuriant mead- ows, would soon make- their graves in the murderous snow over which young. chamois bleat and skip in wild glee, fearless as the ever- lasting hills. Day after day Electra toiled over her work; the delicate frame learned its destiny, sighed at its future, but grew strong ; and complain- ing nerves, catching some of her iron resolve, endured patiently-became finally thoroughly inured to their arduous duties. Her aunt constantly claimed her attention for the various little offices so grateful to an invalid, but by an extraordinary alchemy she contrived to convert every interruption into an occasion of profit. If lending her arm to support the drooping form in a short walk around the little garden, she would describe the varying, tints of sky, as.the clouds shifted their gor- geous curtains of purple and scarlet and gold, until thoroughly familiarized with the varied chameleon hues and strange, grotesque out- lines, traced by - every rift. Nature was a vast storehouse of inatchless, unapproachable beauty to:that eager, thirsty soul-a boundless studio, filled with wonderfutcreations, open to her at all times-in the rosy,,opaline flush of morning, the blazing splendor of full-orbed noon, the silver-gray of twilight, peopled with dusky phantoms, weird and shifting as Fata- Morgana-the still sublimity, the solemn, sa- cred witchery of star-crowned, immemorial Night. She answered the first hoarse-call of thunder by stationing herself at the window to watch the stormy panorama sweep over the heavens; and not Ruysdael, nor Vandervelde, nor Turner ever gazed with more intense de- light on the hurrying masses of vapor than that fragilegirl, as she stood with the forked light- ning glaring luridly over her upturned, enrapt- ured, face. Favored - ones of fortune lean against marble pillars in royal museums to study the imperishable works of earth's grand- est old artists ; but she lived in a cosmopolitan temple whose skyey frescos were fresh' from the hands of Jehovah himself. The rapidity of her progress astonished Mr. Clifton. He questioned her concerning' the processes she employed in some of her curious combinations, bt the fragmentary, abstracted nature of her conversation during the hours of instruction rave him: little satisfactory information. His interest in her increased, until finally..it be- came absorbing, and he gave her all the time that she could spare from home. The eager- neas with which she listened to his directions,' the facility with which she applied his. rules, fully repaid him; and from day to day he postponed his return to the North, reluctant to leave his indefatigable pupil. Now, and then the time of departure was fixed, but ere it arrived he wavered and procrastinated , .Electra knew that his stay had been pro- longed beyond his original intention, and she dreaded the hour when she should be deprived of his aid and advice. Though their acquaint- ance had been so short, a strangely strong feeling had grown up in her heart toward him; a feeling of.clinging tenderness, blended- with earnest, undying gratitude. She knew that he understood her character.and appre- eiated her struggles, and it soothed her fierce,. proud heart, in some degree, to receive from him those tokens of constant remembrance which she so .yearned to have from Russell. She felt, too, that she was not regarded as a stranger by the artist ; she could see his sad eyes brighten at her entrance, and detect the tremor in his hand and voice when he spoke of going home. His health had improved, and the heat of summer had come; why did he linger ? His evenings were often spent at the cottage, and even Mrs. Aubrey learned. to smile at the sound of his step., . One morning, as Electra finished her lesson and rose to go, he said slowly, as if watching the effect of his words: " This is the last hour I can give you. In two days I ,return to New York. Letters of' importance oame this morning; 1 have waited here too long already."' " Are you in earnest this time ?" "I am;. it is. absolutely necessary that I should return home." " Mr. Cjifton, what shall I do without you ?" " Suppose you had never seen me ?". "Then I should not have had to lose you. Oh, sir I .1 need you 'very much." , "Electra, child, you will conquer your diffi-. culties without assistance from any one. You' have nothing to fear." " Yes, I know I shall conquer at last, but the.way wbuld be so much easier if.you were only with me. I shall miss you niore. than I can tell 'you." He passed his hand over her short shining hair, and mused for a moment as if laying conflicting emotions in the balance. Shesheard his deep, labored breathing, and saw, the working of the muscles in his pale face ; when he spoke, his voice was husky: " you are right; you need me, and I want ou always with me; we must not be parted.-- ectra Ilsay we shall not. ' Come. to meput your hands in mine-promise me that you will be my child, my pupil; I will take you to my mother, and we need never be separated.. You require aid, such as can not be had here; in New York yon shall have al that you want. Will you come with me ?" .. He held her hands in a vice-like grasp,. and looked pleadingly into her astonished counte- 'laance. A mist gathered before hier, and she closed, her eyes. "Electra, will you come ?"r. "Give me ten minutes to thinkk" she a- swered Bhiveringly. He turned away; Aid walked up and down the floor, taking care to conceal his face. She sat down before a table and dropped her forehead in her palms.. What slight things often shape human destiny:; how little people realize the consequence- of seem- ingly trivial words, looks, or actions ! The day before. Electra would unhesitatingly have declined this proposition: but only that morn- ing, as she passed Russells door, before.break- fast, she saw him with Irene's farewell: note in his hand; saw him press his lips hastily to.the signature. Her jealous heart was on tire; the consciousness of his love for another rendered her reckless and indescribably miserable.,.Jn this mood she reflected: Mr. Clifton seemed to have become warmly attached to her, and could help her to attain the eminence she had in view; she was poor, why not accept' his generous offer ' Russell would npt missher- would not care whether she left him ,or re- / mined. If she were far away, at least she would not be torniented by. his coldnessand indifference. The future (barring her ambi- tious dreams). was dim, joyless; she had to earn a support, she scorned to be dependent on her cousin, fame lured her on. Yes, she would go. Mr. Clifton took out his watch and paused beside her: * .' " Ten minutes have passed ; - Electra, will. you come ?" She raised her bloodless face, stamped with stern resolve, and ere the words were pro- nounced he read his answer in the defiant gleam of her eyes, in the 'hard, curved lines of the mouth. "Mr. Clifton, I can not go with you just now, for at present I1 can not, ought ' not, to leave my aunt. Helpless as she is, it would be cruel, ungrateful, to desert her; but things can not continue this way much longer,'and I promise you that as soon as I can 1 will go to you. I want to be with you; I want some- body to care for me, and I know you will be a kind. friend always.- Most gratefully will I accept your generous, offer so soon as Ifeel that I can do so." He stooped and touched her .foreheadA rith his lips. " My dear Electra; I wil hield you from trials and difficulties.; I wil rize you above. everything on earth; I know you are making . a great sacrice to be with me ; I know how hard it is. for you toleave home and .relatives. But,, my child, your aunthasonly a short time to live; ,he is failing, very fast, and. your duty to her will not keep you here long, You are right to remain with her, but when; she needs. you no wore I~ shall expect you to come to me in lNew York. Meantime, I shall writn to you frequently, and supply you, with. such. books and materials as you. require. My pupil, L.long to have yon in my owu' home. '(I 30 f MACARRIA: page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] A4 32 MALARIA. Remember, no matter what happens, you have pipmised yourself to me." "I shall not forget;': but he saw her shud- der. "Shall I speak to your aunt about this matter before I go ?" No, it would only distress her ; leave it all with me. - It is late, and I must go. Good-by, sir." He propnised to see her again before his de- parture, and she walked honie with her head bowed and a sharp continual pain gnawing at her heart. . a In the calm, peaceful years of ordinary childhood the soul matures slowly; but a vol- canic nature like Electra's, subj cted to galling trials, rapidly hardens, and answers every, stroke with the metallic ring of age. Keen susceptibility to joy or pain taught her early, what less impressive characters are years in learning, and it was lamentably ..true that, while yet a mere girl, she suffered as acutely as a woman. 'the battle of life must be. fought, and if one begins skirmishing in the cradle tactics are soon learned and the conflict ends more speedily. But Electra had also conned another lesson : to lock her troubles in her own heart, voicing no complaint, andwhen she sought her aunt, and read aloud the favor- ite chapters in the Bible, or led her up and down the garden-walk, talking of various things, telling- of the growth of pet plants, there was no indication whatever of any un- usual strife or extraordinary occurrence. Rus- sell knew that a change had come over his cousin, but was too constantly engaged, too entirely absorbed by his studies, to ask or analyze the cause. She never watched at the gate for him now, never sprang with out- stretched arms to meet him, never hung over the back of his chair ahd caressed his hands as formerly. When not waiting upon her aunt she was as intent on .her- books as he, and, though invariably kind and unselfish in her conduct toward rim, she was evidently con- strained in his presence. As the summer wore' on Mrs. Aubrey's health failed rapidly, and she was confined to her couch. There, in a low chair close to the pillow, sat Electra reading, talking, exertipg-herself to the utmost to cheer the widow. She filled the thin fingers with dewy roses, and bpatiated on the glories of thseouter world, ile the thoughts of the in- valid wandered' to the approaching shores of another realm, and she thanked God that, though thick folds of darkness shrouded earth, the veil dropped from her souland the spirit- ual vision grew clear and piercing. If faith and'resignation could be taught like music or arithmetic, then had Electra- learned the grandest truths of Christianity ; but it -is a mourifuhl fact that the bloody seal of Experi- ence must stamp the lesson ere deepthinkers I' or strong natures receive it, and as she watched that precious life fade, like the purple light of summer in evening skies, the only feeling she knew was that of grief for the impending loss -undefined apprehension of coming isolation. If Mrs. Aubrey could have -seen the counte- nance which bent over her pillow, her serene soul , would have been painfully disturbed. She felt hot tears fall on.her hands and cheeks, and knew that the lips which pressed hers of- ten trembled; but this seemed natural enough under the circumstances, and she sank quietly down to the edge of thectomb ignorarnt of the sorrows that racked the girl's heart. One morning when Mr. Campbell, the 'pastor, had- spent some time in the sick-room praying with the sufferer, and administering the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, Electra followed him to th'e door, leaving Russell with 'his mother. The gentld pastor took -her hand kindly, and looked at her with filling eyes. " You think' my aunt is worse ?" " Yes, my child. I think that very soon she will bd with her God. She will scarcely sur- vive till night-"4... She turned abruptly from him, and threw herself down across the foot of the bed, bury- ing her face'in her arms. Russell sat with his mother's hands ip hi's, while she turned her brown eyes toward him and exhorted him to commit hiinself and his future to the hands of a merciful God. She told him how the prom- ises of the Saviour had supported and cheered her in times of great need, and implored him to dedicate his energies, his talents, his life, to the service of his 7Iaker. Electra was not forgotten ; she advised her to go to a cousin of her mother residing in Virginia. Long before she had'.written to this" lady, informing her of her own feebleness and of the girl's helpless condition; and a kind answer had been re- turned, cordially inviting the orphan to share her 'home, to become an inmate of her house. Russell could take her to these relatives as soon as possible. ' To all this no reply was made,'-and, a few moments later, when Russell' kissed her tenderly and raised her pillow, she said faintly-.. "IfI could look upon your face once more, my son, it would not be hard to die. Let me see yoti in heaven, my dear, dear boy." These were the last words, and soon after a stupor fell upon her. Hour after hour passed ; Mrs. Campbell came and sat beside the bed, and, the three remained silent, now and then lift- ing bowed heads to look at the sleeper. - Not a sound broke the stillness save the occasional chirp of a cricket, and a shy mouse crept twice across the floor, wondering at the silence, fixing its twinkling bright eyes on the motioti- less 'figures. The autumn day : id slowly as the widow, and when the clock irged out the sunset honi- Russell iose, and, putting back the window-curtains, stooped and laid his face close to his mother's. Life is at best a strug- gle, and such perfect repose as greeted himnis found only when the marble hands of Death MACARIA. transfer the soul to its guardian angel. No pulsation stirred the folds over the heart, or the soft bands of hairion the blue-veined tem- ples; the still mouth had breathed its last sigh, and the meek brown eyes. had opened in Eternity.- The long, fierce ordeal had ended, the flames died out, and, from smouldering ashes the purified spirit that had toiled and fainted not, that had been faithful to the end, patiently bearing many crosses, heard the voice of the Great Shepherd, and soared joyfully to the pearly gates of the Everlasting Home. The day bore her away on its wings, and as Russell touched the icy cheek a despairing cry rolled through the silentcottage- "Oh, Mother! my own precious dead motherI" Falling on his knees, he laid his head on her pillow, and when kind friendly hands bore her intq the adjoining room, he knelt there still, unconscious of what passed, knowing only that the keenest of many blows had fall- en, that the last and bitterest vial of sortows had been emptied. Night folded. her starry curtains around the earth; darkness settled on river and hill and valley. It was late September ; autumn winds rose, eager for their work of death, and rushed rudely through the forests, shaking the sturdy primeval monarchs in. token of their mission and mastery, and shivering leaves rustled down before them, drifting into tiny grave- like hillocks. Gradually the stars caught the contagiousgloom, and shrank behind the cloud= skirts sweeping the cold sky. .It was a sol- emn, melancholy night, full of dreary phan- toms, presaging a dark, dismal morrow.. Amy Aubrey's still form reposed on- the draped table in the kitchen, and the fitful candle-light showed only a dim, rigid outline of white linen. Mr. Campbell and his wife sat together in the next room, and the two young mourners were left in the silence of the-kitchen. , Russell sat at the open window, near the table; his head leaned on his hand, tearless, mute, still as his mother. At the opposite window stood Elec- tra, pressing-her face against the framk, look- ing out into the moaning, struggling night, striving to read the mystic characters dimly traced on the ash-gray hurrying clouds as the reckless winds parted their wan folds. 'The stony face of her merciless destiny seemed to frown down at her, cold, grim, Sphinx-like. Hitherto she had walked with loved ones; now a vast sepulchre yawned to receive them; a tomb of clay for the quiet sleeper, one of perhaps final separation for Russell, and over this last hideous chasm Hope hovered with drooping wings. To leave him was like inurn- ing her heart and all the joy she had ever known; and then, to crown her agony, a thousand Furies hissed " Irene will come back, and loving her .he will forget .that you toil among strangers." - She crushed her fingers against each other and stified.a groan, while the chilling voice of 83 Destiny added, "Trample out this weakness ; your path and his here separate widely ; you are nothing to him, go to work earnestly, and cease repining." She shrank away from the window and approached her 'cousin. ,3.or two hours he had not changed his position-as far as she knew, had not moved a muscle. She sat down at his feet and crossed her arms over his knees; he took no notice of her. " Oh, Russell ! say something to me, or I shall die." It was the last wail she ever suffered to' es- cape her in.his presence. He raised his head and put his hand on her forehead, but the trembling lips refused their office, and as she looked up at him tears rolled.slowly down and fell on her cheek. She would have given worlds to mingle her tears with his, but no moisture came to her burning eyes; and there these two, so soon to separate, passed the re- maining hours of that long, wretched night of . watching. The stormy day lifted her pale, mournful face at last, -and with 'it came the dreary. patter and sobbingof autumn, rain, making it doubly harrowing to commit the precious form to its long, last resting-place. Electra stood up beside her cousin and folded her arms together. " Russell, I am not going to that cousin in Virginia. I could owe my bread and clothes to you, but not to her. She has children, and I do not intend to 'live on her charity. I know you and I must part ; the sooner the better. I would not be willing to burden you, a day longer. I am going to fit myself to work'prof. itably. Mr. Clifton offered me a home in his house, said his mother was lonely, and would be rejoiced to have me ; that letter which I received last week contained one from her, also urging me to come; and, Russell, I am going to New York to stud with him as long as I need instruction. I did not tell aunt of this, because I knew it would grieve her to think that I would be thrown with strangers; and having fully determined to take this step, thought it best not to distress her by any al- lusion to it. You' know it is my own affair, .and I can decide -it-better than' any one else." His eyes were fixed on the shrouded table, and he answered without ookino at her'. "No, Electra, you must g tolIrs. Harden ; she seems anxious to have ) ; and as for be- ing dependent on charity, you never shall be, so long as I live. You will merely reside un- der her roof, and shall not cost her a cent; leave this with me. "I can not leave it with anybody ; I must depend upon myself. I have thought a great deal about it, and my resolutions not to be shaken. You have been very kind to me, Russell, all my life ; and only God knows how I love and thank~rou.' But I will not accept your hard earnings-in future ; I should be nus . erable unless at work, and L, tell you I must and will go to Mr. Clifton." page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] MACARIA.MACARIA He looked at her no, urprised and pained. " What is the matter with you, Electra ? Have I not sorrows enough, that you must try to,, add another by your' obstinacy ?'-'What would she think oQi)ou ?" .ie rose, and' laid his hand on the pure, smooth brow of the dead. "4There is nothing new the 'matter with me. I have determined to go; nobody has any right to control me, and it is worse than useless for you to oppose me. We have but little time to spend together ; do not let us quarrel here in 'Ier' presences' Let there be peace between us in these. last hours. Oh, Russell !iis hard enough to part, even in love and kindness; do not add painful contention." " So' you prefer utter strangers to yourirela- tives and friends?" "Ties of blood are riot the strongest; stran- gera step in to aid where relatives sometimes stand aoof and watch a fatal struggle. Re- member Irene ; who is nearer -to you, she or your grandfather'? Such a friend Mr. Clifton js to me, and go to him-I will at all hazards. Drop the subject, if you please.". Ile looked at her an instant, then turned once more to his mother's face, and his cousin left them toether. e The day was so inclement that only Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and Russell's employer attend- ed the funeral. These few followed the gentle sleeper,"and laid her down to rest till the star of Eternity dawns; and the storm chanted a long, thrillin requiem as the wet mound rose above the coffin. Back to a deserted home, whence the crown of joy has been borne. What a hideous;rack stands at the hearth-stone whereon merciless Memory stretches the bereaved ones t In hours such as this we cry out fiercely, "The sun of our life has gone .down in starless, ever- lastn night; earth has no more glory, no more bloom or fragrance for us ; the voices of gleeful children the carolof summer birds, take the mournful measure of*a dirge. We hug this great grief to our hearts'; we hold our d uindead continually before us, and refuse to be glad again."' for et that Prome- theus as paed from the world. Time bears precious healing on its broad pinions; folds its arms compassioirely about us as a pitying flter ; softly lesup te'aged ,wounds, dru;gamor and though the poisonous sting is occasionally thrust forth, she soon relapses ih to stupor. So, in the infinite mercy of our God, close at the heels of Azrael follow the winged 'hours laden) like Sisters of Charity, with balm for the people. The kind-hearted' pastor and his wife urged the orphans to remove to their house for a few pd; at tey ,pureferred to n eet and battleI a onewth the' ectre which the knew sikiod watn ithd~solate cttae eAt midnight a heavy sleep fell on Russell, who had thrown himself upon his mother's couch,; and, softly spreading a shawl over him, Electra sat down by the dying fire on the kitchen-hearth and looked her' future in the face. A few days sufficed to prepare for her journey ; and a gen- tl-bman from New York, who had met her cousin in Mr. Campbell's office, consented to take charge of her and commit her to Mr. Clifton's hands.. The scanty furniture was sent to an auction-room, and a piece of board nailed to the gate-post, announced thatkthe cottage was for rent. Russell decided to take his meals at a boarding-house, and occupy a small room over the office, which Mr. Camp- bell had placed at his disposal. On the same day the cousins bade adieu to the only spot they had called homem" for many years, and as Russell locked the door and joined Electra his melancholy face expressed, ar bet,.er than words could have done, the pain it cost him to quit the house where his idolized mother had lived; suffered, and died. Mr. Colton was waiting for Electra at the hotel, whither the stage had been driven for passengers; and as she drew near and saw her trunk among others, piled on top, she stopped and grasped Russell's hand between both hers. A livid paleness settled on her face, while her wild black eyes fastened on his features. .She might never see him again; he was far dearer to her than her life ; how could she bear', to leave him, to put hundreds of miles between that- face and her own ? An icy hand clutched her heart as she gazed into his deep, sad, beautiful eyes. His feeling for her was a steady, serene affec- tion, such as brothers have for dear young sis- ters, and to give her up now filled him with genuine, earnest sorrow. "Electra; it is very hard to tell you good- b You are all Irhave left, and 1 shall be desolate indeed when you are away. But the separation will not be long, I trust; in a few years we shall be able to have another home; and where my home is, yours must always be. Til stretches before me like a sandy desert, but I shall cross it safely; and then, Electra, my dear cousin, we shall' be parted no more. I should feel far better sat- isfied if you were with Mrs. Harden, but you determined otherwise, and, as you told me a few, days ago, I have no right to control you. Write to me often, and believe that I shall do' all that a brother could for you. Mr. Colton is waiting; good-by, darling." He bent down to kiss her, and the strained, tortured look that greeted him he never for- got. She put her arms around his neck, and clung to him like a shivering weed driven by rough winds against a stone wall. He re- m ear clasping arms, and led her to Mr. Colton; butas theglatte r offered 'to assist her into the stage she drew back, that Russell might perform that office. While he almost lifted her to a seat, her' fingers refused to release hi, and he was fred to disengage them. Other passenge rs entered, and the door was, osed. IRussell stood near the window, and saidgently, pitying her suffering: "4,Electra, won't you say good-by ?" She leaned out, till her cheek touched his, and in a 'hoarse tone uttered the fluttering words : " Oh, Russell ! Russell ! good-by!t May God have mercy on me " And the stage rolled swiftly on; men laugh- ed, talked, and smoked; an October sun filled the sky with glory, and gilded the trees on the roadside; flame-colored leaves flashed in the air as the wind tossed them before it; the deep, continual thunder of the foaming falls rose soothingly from the river banks, andea wretch- ed human thing pressed her bloodless face against the morocco lining of the coach and stared down, mute and tearless, into the wide grave of her all-nd " Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld; Sad as theaast which reddens oygr one That sinks with all we love below the verge So sad, so fresh, the days tot are no more." CHAPTER VIIL As tall tyrannous weeds and rank unshorn grass close over and crush out slender, pure, odorous flowerets on a hill-side, so the defects of Irene's character swiftly strengthened and developed in the new atmosphere in which she found herself. All the fostering stimulus of a hot-bedseemed applied to themend her nobler impulses were in imminent danger of being entirely subdued.nDiogenes Teufels- aSeminary" is but the prototype of hundreds, scattered up and down through Christendom; and the associations which surrounded Irene were well circulated to destroy the native purity and unselfishness of her nature. The school was on an extensive scale, thoroughly fashionable,'and thither pupils were sent from every section of the United States. As re- garded educational advantages, the institution was unexceptionable; the professors wercon-i sidered unsurpassed i their several depart-Y mnt, and every provision was made for i thorough tuition. But what a Babel reigned outside of the recitation-room. One hundred and forty girls to spend their recesses in envy,r ridicule, malice, and detraction. The homely e squad banded in implacable hatred against s w om n ur ha c st i mul s f a beauty ; the indolent and obtuse ever so h l it o dor he uc s fu efo t o their ' intdllec as the casepmisht be-growing more arrogant and insufferaIe day by day. A wretched climate this fora fresh, untainted soul ; and it is surprising how really fon'd' parents, anxious to, promote' the improvement of their daughters in aeveryrespect, hasten to place them where poisonous vapors wrea~the and- curl about them. The principals of such institutions are doubtless often conscientious, aiid strive to 'diseharfe their duty faithfully,; bot the evils of human nature, are obstinate, difficult to-subdue under even the most favor- able auspices; and where such a mass of un- trained souls are turned into an enclosure, to amuse themselves at one another's expense, mischief is sure to -follow. Anxious to shake' off the loneliness which so heavily oppressed her, Irene 'at first mingled freely among her companions ; but.she soon became disgusted with the conduct and opinions of the majority, and endeavored to find quiet in her owr room. Maria Ashley, who shared the apartmcnt,was the spoiled child of a Louisiana planter, and her views of life and duty were too utterly antagonistic to Irene's to allow of any pleasure in each other's(society. .'To cheat the profess. sorts by ingenious stratagems, and to out-dress her companions, seemed the sum total of the girl's aspirations; and gradually in lieu of the indifference she. evinced toward her room- mate, a positive hatred made itself apparent in numberless trifles. Feeling her own supe- riority, Irene held herself more and more aloof; her self-complacency grew amazingly, the graceful figure took a haughty, unbending posture, and a coldly contemptuous 'smile throned itself on her lip. The inevitable con- sequence, was, that she became a target for the school. Thus the months crept away ; her father wrote rarely, and Miss Margaret's let- ters contained no allusion to the family that had caused her banishment. 'Finally 'she wrote to Dr., Arnold, inquiring concerning' Mrs. Aubrey, but no reply reached her.Early in winter a new pupil, a "day scholar," joined her class; she resided in New York, and-very soon a strong friendship sprang up between them. 'Louisa Young was about Irene's age, very pretty, very gentle and winning -in her manners. She was the daughter of-an affluent merchant, and was blessed i4thepossessionp9f parents who strove to rear their children as Christian parents should. 'Louisa's attach. ments were very warm and lasting, and ere ong she insisted that her friend-should visit her., Weary of the school, the ,latter gladly availed herself of the-invitation, and one Fri. day afternoon, she accompanied Louisa home. The mansion was almost palatialand as Irene Entered 'the splendidly-furnishedparlors her ~wn Southern home rose vividly before her. "Mother,'this is Miss Huntingdon." Mrs. Young received her cordially, and' as he held the gloved hand,-and kindly express- d her pleasure at meeting her daughter's- S; I j , 11 1 'i .r 1 f ! t 1, I , t, I I i t}. 1 1i s { , ; , F tj f " 1 i 1,f ^ s R MACARIA. 34 35 page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 'rl ,! 11 t 11 1! { { l" f f t I .lit ( it " iii 1 {f {lf Sfriend,the girl's heart gave a quick bound of joy.i " Come up stairs and put away your bon- net.",, eu In Louisa's beautiful room the two sat talk- ing of various things till the tea-bell rang. Mi. Young's greeting was scarcely less friendly than his wife s, and as they seated themselves at the table the stranger felt at home for the first time in vew York. "Where is Brother?" asked Louisa, glancing at the vacant seat opposite her own. t "He has not come home yet; I wonder what keeps him? There he is now, in the hall," answered the mother. Moment after he entered and took his seat. He was tall, rather handsome, and look- ed about thirty. His sister presented her friend, and with a hasty 'bow he fastened his eyes on her face. Probably he was uncon- scious of the steadiness of his gaze, but Irene became restless under his fixed, earnest eye, and, perceiving her embarrassment, Mrs. Young said-b. " Harvey, where have you been? Dr., Mel- ville called here for you at four o'-lock; said you had made some engagement withi him." "Yes, Mother ; we have been visiting to- gether this afternoon." Withdrawing his eyes, he seemed to fall into a reverie, and took no part in the conver- sation that ensued. As the party adjourned 'to the sitting'-room he paused on the rug and leaned his efbow on the mantle. Louisa lin- gered, and drew near. He passed his arm around her shoulders and looked affectionately down at her. " well, what is it ?" "Come into the sitting-room and help me entertain Irene, instead 'of going off to your stpd stdy do, Harvey." stu stu"A very reasonable request, truly ! I must quit my work to talk to one of your school- mates; nonsense I How old is she ?" "Fifteen. Is not she a beauty ?" " Yes." "1Oh, Harvey!I you are so cold I I thought youwould admire Irene prodigiously ; and now you say 'yes' just exactly as if I had asked you whether it was snowing out of doors." I "Which is certainly the fact ; the first flakes fell as I reached home." lIe stepped to the window and looked out, saying carelessly- "Go to your friend, and when you are at a loss for conversation, bring her to my study to see those-sktches of Palmyra and Baalbec." He passed on to his, work and she to the sitting-room.s The study was simply the library handsomely fitted up with choice old books in rijhly-carved rosewood cases,~,and antique bust peering down from the tops of each Crinison' damask curtains .swept from the ceiling to the carpet, and a luxurious arm- 36 ., . , ' AA AA TT MACARIA" chair sat before the glowing coal-fire. The table was covered with books and loose sheets of paper wei-e scattered around, as if the oc- cupant had been suddenly called from his labor. The gas burned brightly ; all things beckoned back to work. He sat down, glanced over the half-written sheets, numbered the pages, laid them away in the drawer, and opened a volume of St. Chrysostom. As the light fell on his, countenance it was very apparent that he had been a student for years;, that his mind was habituated to patient, labo- rious investigation. 'Gravity, utterly free from sorrow or sternness, marked his face ; he might have passed all his days in that quiet room, for 'any impress which the cares or joys of out- door life had left on his features ; a strong, clear intellect; a lofty, earnest soul; a calm, unruffled heart, that knew not half its own unsounded abysses. He read industriously for some time, occasionally pausing to annotate ; and once or twice he raised his head and listenedifan- cying footsteps in the hall. Finally he pushed the book away, took a turn across the floor, and resumed his seat. He could not rivet his attention on St. Chrysostom, and, folding his arms over his chest, he studied the red coals instead. Soon after, unmistakable steps fell on his ear, and a light tap at the door was followed by the entrance of the two girls. Irene came very reluctantly, fearful of intrud- ing ; but he rose, and placed' a chair for her close tohis own, assuring her that he was glad to see her there. Louisa found the portfolio, and, bringing it to the table, began to exhibit its treasures. The two leaned over it, and as Irene sat resting her cheek on her hand, the beauty of her face, and figure was clearly re- vealed. Harvey remained silent, watching the changing expression of the visitor's couu- tenance ; and once he put out his haiyl to touch the hair floating over the back and arms of her chair. Gradually his still heart stirred, his brow flushed, and a new light burned in the' deep clear eyes. " Louisa, where did you get these ?" " roth'er brought them home when he came from the East." Irene lifted her eyes to his and said: " Did you visit all these places? Did you go to that crumbling Temple of the Sun?" He-told her of his visit to the Old World, of its mournful ruins, its decaying glories: of the lessons he learned there; the 'sad but precious memories he brought back ; and as h8 talked time passed unheeded-she forgot her embar- rassment; they were strangers no longer. -The clock struck ten ; Louisa rose at once. " Thank you, Harvey, for giving us so much of your time. Father and; Mother will be waiting for you." ." Yes, I will join you at once. She led the way back to the sitting-room, and a few moments afterward, to Irene's art. surprise, 'the student came i1, and stig MACARIA. 87 down before the table, opened the Bible and " Louisa, how came your brother to be a read a chapter. Thein al knelt and .he pray- minister ?" asked Irene, when they - had ed. There was a strange spell on the visitor; reached their apartment. in all this there was something so unexpected. " When he was a boy he said he intended It was the first time she. had ever knelt around to preach, and father never dissuaded him. I the family altar, and, as she rose, that sit- was quite- young when he went to the East, ting-room seemed . suddenly converted into a and since his return he has been so engrossed temple of worship. Mutual ",good-nights " by his theological.studies. that we are rarely were exchanged, and as Irene turned toward together. Harvey is a singular man-so silent, the young minister he held out his hand. so equable, so cold in his manner, and yet'he She gave him hers, and he pressed it gently, has a warm heart.. He has declined 'two calls saying: since his ordination'; Dr. Melville's health s "I trust this is the first of many pleasant very poor, and Harvey frequently fills his put- evenings which we shall spend together." pit.Sometimes he talks of going West, where " Thank you, sir. I hope so too, for I have ministers are scarce ; thinks hb could do more not been as happy since, I left home." , - good there, but mother willknot consent for He smiled, and she walked on. His mother him to leave us. 'I am afraid, though, he will looked up as the door closed behind her, and go-he is so determined when he once nakes exclaimed. up his mind. He is a dear, good brother; I "'What a wonderfully beautiful face she know you will like him when you know him has ! Louisa often rhapsodized about her, and well; everybody loves Harvey." now I am not at all surprised at her enthu- The inclemency of the weather confined the siasm." girls to the hbuse the following day. Harvey " Yes, such perfection of features as hers is was absent at breakfast, and at dinner the seen but once in a lifetime. I have travelled chair opposite 'Irene's was still vacant.' The over the greater part of the world ; I have afternoon wore away, and at dusk Louisa- looked upon all types of beauty, from the. An- opened the piano and began to play Thal- dalusians whom Murillo immortalized, to -the berg's." Home, sweet home." . Irene sat on a far-famed Circassians of Kabarda, but never sofa near thd window, and as she 'listened before have I found such a marvel of loveli- visions of the South rose before her, till she ness as that girl. In Venice I spent a morn- realized--- ing studying, one of Titian's faces, which some- what resembles hers; there is an approlima- " Tat sorrow's crown ofsorrow isrememberinghappier tion to the same golden hair-forming a nim- bus, as it were-the: same contour of features, She longed inexpressibly for her own home, but Titian's picture lacked her. pure, un- for her father,.for the suffering friends of the searchable, indescribable eyes. Have ,you cottage, and, as she'thought of his many trials noticed what a rare, anomalous color her hair Russell's' image was more distinct than all. is? There never was but one other head She closed her eyes,.and felt again his-tight like it; the threads of fine gold in that cele- clasp of her hands; his passionate, pleading brated lock of her own hair which Lucretia words sounded once more, " Oh, Irene ! be- Borgia gave Cardinal Bembo, match' Irene lieve in me ! believe in me always I" It seem- Huntingdon's exactly. . Well, and truly has it ed to her so unnatural, so cruel that they been said of that glittering relic in the Am- should be separated. Then came the memory brozian Library, 'Ifever hair was golden, it is- of Mrs. Aubrey's words of counsel: "Pray this of Lucretia Borgia's; it is not red, it.is constantly; keep yourself unspotted from the not yellow, it is not auburn ; it. is golden, and world." What would the blind woman think" nothing else.' I examined it curiously, and if she knew all the proud, scornful, harsh feel- wondered whether the world could furnish ings which were now in her heart' A sensa- a parallel; consequently, when that girl's head 'tion of deep contrition and humilation came flashed before 'me I was startled. Stranger upon her; she knew she was fast losing the still than her beauty is the fact that it has not best impulses of her nature, and experienced spoiled her thus far." keen regret that she had yielded to the evil He folded his arris over his chest as if crush- associations and temptations of the school. ing out something. . How could she hope to grow better under such' His mother laughed. - circumstances ? -w at would become of her ? " Why, Harvey ! . What a riddle your are. The snow drifted against the panes, making Take care, my son ; that child would never do fairy fretwork, and through the- feathery for a minister's wife." flakes the 'as-light at the corner burned stead- " Of course not; who aver dreamed that ily on. o ought the light of conscience to she would ? Good-night, Mother ; I shall not burn," thought she; "so ought I to do my be -at home to breakfast ; do not wait for 1me; duty, no matter 'how I am situated. That I am going to Long Island with Dr. Mhlville." ,light is all the more, necessary because it is .He bent down to receive her customary stormy and dark." kiss, and went to his own room. Somebody took a seat near her, nd, though A page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] iijr MACARIA. MACARIA. the room was dim, she knew the tall form and the touch of his hand. "Good-evening, Miss Irene; we "have had a -gloomy day. How have you and Louisa spent it?" . "Not very profitably I dare say, though it has not appeared at all gloomy to me. Have you been out in the snow ?" "Yes; my work has been sad. I buried a mother and child this afternoon, and have just come from house of orphanage and grief. It is a difficult matter to realize how many ach- ipg hearts there are in this great city. Our mahogany doors shut out the wail that hourly goes:up to God from the thousand sufferers in our midst."A Just.then a servant lighted the chandelier, and she saw that he, loo ed graver than ever. Louisa came up and put her arms around'his neck, but he did not return the caress; said a few kind words, and rising, slowly paced the floor. As his eye fell on the piano he paused, saying, " Come; Louisa, sing that song for me," - She sat 'down and began, " Comfort ye my people ;" aid gradually the sadness melted from his features. As Irene listened to the f solemn strains she found it difficult to control her feelings, and by degrees her head sank until it touched the arm of the sofa. The minister watched the effect of the music, and, resuming his seat, said gently : "It is genuine philosophy to extract com- cm fort and aid from every possible source. There is a vast amount of strength needed to combat the evils and trials which necessarily occur in even the, sunniest, happiest lives; and I find that sometimes I derive far. more from a song -than a lengthy sermon. We are curious bits of mechanism, and frequently music effects what learned disputation,or earnest exhorta- tion could not accomplish. I remember once, when I was a -child, fhad given my mother a great deal of trouble by my obstinacy. She had entreated me, reasoned with me, and finally punished me, but all to no purpose ; my wickedness had not been conquered. I was bitter and rebellious, and continued so all day. That evening she sat down to the piano and sang a hymu for my father. The-instant the strains fell on my ear I felt softened, crept down stairs to the parlor-door, and before she had finished was crying heartily,-begging her forgiveness. When a sublime air is made the vehicle of a noble sentiment there is no com- puting the amount of good it accomplishes, if p roperlydirected. During my visit to Lon- dnrwent to hear a very celebrated divine. I had just lost a dear friend, the companion who travelled with me to Jerusalem and.Me- roe, and I went to church full of sorrow. The sermon washable, but had no more effect in comforting me than if X had not listened to it. He preached from that text of/Job treating Ii of the resurrection, and at' the conclusion the very words of his text, ' know that my Re- deemer liveth,' were sung y the choir. Whlen the organ rolled its solemn tones under the dim arched roof, and I heard the voices of the choir swelling deep and full- . Throb tirougi the ribbed stone,' then,. and not till then, I appreciated the grand words to which I had listened. The organ spoke to my soul hs man could not,'and I left the church calmed and comforted. All things are capable of yielding benefit, if prop- erly applied, though it is a lamentable truth that gross abuse has involved many possible sources of good in disrepute; andit is .our duty to extract elevating influences from all departments. Such an alchemy is especially the privilege of a Christian." ''' As he talked she lifted her beautiful eyes and looked steadily at him, 'and he thought that, of all the lovely things he had ever seen, that face was the most peerless. She drew closer to him, and said earnestly: "Then you ought to be happy, Mr. Young." " That implies a doubt that am." "You -do not seem to me a very happy man." "There you mistake ne. I presume there are few happier persons." " Countenance is not a faithful index, then; you look so exceedingly grave." . "Do you suppose that gravity of face is in- compatible"with sunshine in the heart ?" ~ " I think it reasonable that'the sunshine should sprkle in the eyes and gleam Aver the features. But, sir, I should like, if you please, to talk to you a little about other things. May I ?" '- " Certainly ; speak on, and speak freely; you may trust me, I think." He smiled.encouragingly as he spoke, and. without a moment's thought she laid her deli- cate hand in his.- "Mr. Young, I want somebody to advise me. Very often I am at a loss about my duty,_ and, having no one to consult, either do noth- in" at all, or that whiph I should not. If it wil not trouble you too much, I should like to bring my difficulties to you sometimes, and get you to direct me. If you will only- talk frankly to me, as you do to Louisa, oh ! I will be very grateful." He folded his hands softly over the white, fluttering fingers. " Louisa is my sister, and therefore I do not hesitate to-tell her unwelcome truths. But you happento be a perfect stranger,and might not relish my counsel." "Try me." , " How old are you ? Pardori my nuiqmisi- tiveness." "Fifteen." .* "An age when young ladies prefer flattery to truth. 'Have you no brother ?" I" I am an only child." 89 "You would like a bother, however ?" "Yes sir, above all things." " Take care; you express yourself strongly. If you can "fancy me or a brother, consider me such. One thing I can promise-you-will have a guardian sleepless as Ladon, and un- tiring in his efforts to aid you as if he were in truth a A3riareus. If you are not afraid of espionage, make me your brother. What say you ?" ",I am not 'afraid, sir. I believe I need watching .'- "Ah, that you do1" he exclaimed, with un- usual emphasis. "He can-be very stern, Irene, gentle as he looks," suggested Louisa. "If he never found fault with me I should not need his friendship." When Monday morning came, and she was obliged to "return to school, Irene reluctantly bade farewell to the new friends. She knew that, in conformity to the unalterable regula- tion of Crim Tartary, she could only leave the institution oiee a month, and the prospect of this long interval between her visits was by no means cheering. Harvey assisted her into the carriage. " I shall send you some books in a day or two,, and if you are troubled about anything before I see you again, write me a note by Louisa. I. would call to see you occasionally if you were boarding anywhere else. Good- morning, Miss Irene ; do not forget that.I am your brother .so long as you stay in New York, or need one." The books were not forgotten ; they arrived the ensuing week, and his selection satisfied her that he perfectly understood what kind of aid she required. Her visit made'a lasting im- pression on her mind, and the Sabbath spept in Louisa's home often recurred to her in after years, as the memory of some green, sunny isle of rest haunts the dreams of weary, tem- pest-lashed mariners in a roaring sea. Maria Ashley was a sore trial of patience, and occa- sionally, after a fruitless struggle to rise above the temptations presented almost hourly, Irene looked longingly toward Louisa's fireside, as one turns to the last source of support. Fi- nally she took refuge in silence, and, except when compelled to do so, rarely commented upon anything that occurred. The days were always busy, and when the text-books were finished she ,had, recourse to those supplied by her new friends. At the close of the next month, instead of accompanying Louisa home, Irene was suffering with severe cold, and too much indisposed to quit the house. This was . a grievous disappointment, but she bore it bravely and went on with her studies. What a dreary' isolation in the midst 'of numbers of her own age. It was a thraldom that g'alled . her; and more than once she implored her father's permission to return home. His re- plies were positive denials, and after a time 88 she ceased to expect release until the pre- sci-ibed course should be ended. Thus an- other month dragged itself away. On Friday morning Louisa was absent. Irene felt anx- ious AnYdistressed ; perhaps she was ill; 'some. thing must have happened. As the day-pupils were dismissed she started back to her, own room, heart-sick because of this second disap- pointment. "After all," thought she, "I may as well accustom myself to being ,one. Of course 1 can't hove the Youngs always." I must learn to deperid on myself. She put away the bonnet and cloak laid out in readi- ness for departure, and sat down to wiite to her Aunt Margaret. A few minutes after a servant knocked at the door aid informed her that a gentleman wished to see her in the parlor. CHAPTERR VI I " I am so glad to see you, Mr., Young. Louisa is not sick, I hope ?" "I came for you in Louisa's 'place ; she is not well enough to quit her 'room. Did you suppose that I intended leaving you here for another month ?" "I was rather afraid you had forgotten me; the prospect *as gloomy-ten minutes ago. It seems a long time since I was with you." She stood close to him, looking gladly into his face, unconscious of the effect ofer words. "You sent me no note all this time ; why not ?" "I was afraid of troubling you; and, be- sides, I would rather tell you. what I want you to know." "Miss Irene, the carriage is at the door.- I am a patient man, and can wait half an hour if you have any preparation to make." In much less time she joined him, equipped for the ride, and took her place beside him in the carriage. As they reached his -father's door, and he assisted her out, she saw him lopk at her very searchingly. " It is time that you had a little fresh air. You are not quite yourself. Louisa is in her room; run up to her." She found her friend suffering with sore throat, and was startled at the appearance of her flushed cheeks. Mrs. Young sat beside her, and after most cordial greetings the.latter resigned 'her seat and left them, enjoining upon her daughter the necessity of remaining quiet.afadfroj " Mother was almost afraid for yo come, but I teased and coaxed for permission; told her that even if I had scarlet-fever, your had already had it, and would run no risk., Har- vey says it is not acarlet-fever at all, and he prsuaded mother to 'let him go after you. Halashas things his own way, though he brings it about so, quietly that nobody would ever suspect him of being self-willed. Hiar- yey is a good friend of yours, Irene." P". 1 page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] fil MACARIA. "I am very glad to hear it; he is certainly and power gathered into salvation a more than very kind to me. But recollect you are not to adequate provision.' Louisa has told me the talk much; let me talk to you." . , nature of the trials that beset you, and that you Mrs. Young sent'up tea for both, and about still strive to rise superior to thembught.to en- nine o'clock Mr. Young and his son both en- courage you. 'The books which I sent were tered. Louisa had fallen asleep holding Irene's calculated to aid you in your efforts to.he hand and her father cautiously felt the pulse gentle, forgiving, and charitable under adverse and, examined the countenance. The -fever circumstances. I use the word cha'rty in its had abated, and, bending down, Harvey said broad, deep, true significance. Of all charities softly: mere money-giving is the least ; sympathy, "Can't You release yotr hand without, kind words, gentle judgments, a friendly pres- wakig her ?" ure of weary hands, an encouraging -smile, "I am afraid not; have prayer without one will frequently outweigh a mint of coins. to-night." T Bear this in mind: selfishness is the real root of After the gentlemen withdrew, Mrs. Young all the evil in the world; people are too isolat- and Irene watched the sleeper till midnight, ed, too much wrapped up in their individual when she awoke. The following morning rights, interests, or enjoyments. I, Me, Mine, found -her much better, and Irene and the is the God of the age. There are many noble mother spent the day in her room. Late in exceptions; philanthropic associations abound the afternoon the minister came in and talked in our cities, and individual instances of gen- to his sister for some moments, then turned to erous self-denial nowand then flash out upon his mother. us. But we ought to live more for others than " Mother, I am going to take this visitor of we do. Instead of the narrow limits which yours down to the library; Louisa has mo- restrict so many, the whole family of the hu-- nopolized her long enough. Come, Miss Irene, man race should possess our cordial sympathy. you shall join them again at tea." In proportion as we interest ourselves in pro- yHe led the way,'and she followed him very moting the good and, happiness of others our willingly. Placing her in a chair before the natures 'become elevated, enlarged ; our ca-. fire, he drew another to the rug, and seating pacities for enjoyment are developed and in- himself, said just as if speaking to Louisa: creased. The happiest man I ever knew was, " What have you been doing these two a missionary in Syria. He had abandoned- months ? What is it that clouds your face, home, friends, and country; but, in laboring my little sister ?" , ;. . for the weal of strangers, enjoyed a peace, a "Ali, sir ! I am so weary of that -school. sei'enity, a deep gladness, such as not the You don't know what a relief it is to come wealth of the Rothschilds could purchase. Do here." not misapprehend me. All can not be mission- "It is rather natural that you should feel' arie in the ordinary acceptation of that term.; homesick. It is a fierce ordeal for a child like I believe that very few are really called to you to be thrust so far from home." spend their lives under inclement skies, in "I am not homesick now, I believe. I have dreary by-corners of the earth, amid' hostile in some degree become accustomed to the tribes. But true missionary work lies at every separation from my father; but I am growing man's door, at every woman's ; and, my little so different from what fused to be; so differ- sister, yours waits for you, staring at you daily. ent from what I expected. It grieves me to ' Do the work that lies nearest to thee.' Let me know that I am changing for the worse ; but give you the rule of a profound thinker, who somehow, I can't help it. I make good reo- might have accomplished incalculable good had lutions in the morning before I leave my he walked the'narrow winding path which hp room,.and by noon I manage to break allof stood afar off and pointed ouft to othei: them. ' The girls try me, and I lose my pa- ' Know what thou canst work at, and work at tience. When I am at home nothing of this it like a Hercules;' and, amid the holy hills of kind troubles me. I know you will think me Jerusalem, the voice of Inspiration proclaimed: very weak, and I dare say I am; still I try ' Whatsoevei- thy hand findeth to do, do it with much harder than you think I do." thy- might'"' "If you never yielded to temptation you His low voice fell soothingly on her ear; would be more than mortal. We are all prone new energy kindled, new strength was infused, to err ; apd, Miss Irene, did it never occur to- as she listened, and-she said hastily: you that, though you may be ,overcome by "It would be an easy matter to do all this, the evil prompting, yet the struggle to resist if I had somebody like you always near to di- strengthened you ? So long as life lasts this react me." - conflict will be waged; though you have not " Then there would be no glory in conquer- always succeeded thus far, earnest prayer and ing. Every soul' has trials which must be ,faithful resolve will enable -you to conquer. borne without any assiptaiice, save that which Look to a merciful and watchful God for -the Father mercifully bestows. Remember assistance; ' divine knowledge took the meas- the sublime words of Isaiah: 'I have trodden ure of every human necessity, and divine love the wine-press alone ; and of the people there MACARIA. was cone with me.. And I looked, and there ,,was none to help, and I wondered that there was none to uphold ; therefore mine own arm brought salvation unto me.' Miss Irene, you, too, must ' tread the wine-press alone."' She held her breath and looked "up at him;' the solemn emphasis of his words 'startled her ; they fell upon her weighty as prophecy, adum- brating weary years of ceaseless struggling. The fire-light glowed on her sculptured feat- ures, and he saw an expression of vague dread in her glance. "Miss Irene, yours is not a clinging, de- pendent disposition ; if I have have rightly un- derstood your character, you have never been accustomed to lean upon others. After rely- ing on yourself so long, why yield to mistrust now ? With -years should grow the power, the determination, to do the work you find. laid out for you." ' "It is precisely because I know how very poorly I have managed myself thus far, that I have no confidence in my own powers for fu- ture emergencies. Either I have lived alone too long,, or else not long enough ;i rather think the last. If they had 'only suffered me to act as I wished, I should have been so much better at home. Oh, sir ! I am not the girl I was eight months ago. I knew how it would be when they sent me here." Resting her chin in her hands, she.,gazed sadly into the grate, and saw, amid glowing coals, the walls of the vine-clad cottage, -the. gentle face of the blind woman groping her way, the melancholy eyes of one inexpressibly dear to her. " We can not always live secluded, and at some period of your life you would have been forced to enter the- world and combat its troubles, even had you never seen New York. It is comparatively'easy for anchorites to pre- serve a passionless, equable temperament; but to ignore the very circumstances'and relations of social existence in which God intended that we should be purified and ennobled by trial, is both sinful and cowardly." Taking a small volume from the table, he read impressively: " tare we set on earth for? Say to toil; Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, And death's mild curfew shall from work assail. God did anoint thee with his odorous oil, To wrestle, not to reign. s -o others shall Take patience, labor, to their heart and hand, From thy hand, and thy hart, and thy brave cheer, And God's grace fructify through theeto all." "Some portentous cloud- seems lowering over your future. 'What is it? You ought to be a gleeful girl, full of happy hopes." She sank .farther back ai her chair to es- cape his searching gaze, and drooped her face lower. . ' "Yes, yes; I know I ought, but one can't always shut their eyes." - " Shut their eyes to what ?" - 41 " Various coming troubles, Mr. Young." .His lip curled slightly, and, replacing the book on the table, he said, as if speaking rather to himself than to her: "' The heart knoweth his own bitterness,- and a stranger doth not internieddle with' his joy.' " " Yqu are not a.stranger, sir. " I see -you are disposed to consider me such. I thought I was your brother. But no matter ; after a time all will be well." She looked puzzled ; and, as the tel-bell summoned them, he' merely added: "I do not wonder. You are a aby child ; but you will soon learn to understand me ; you will come to me with all your sorrows." During the remainder of this visit she saw him no more. Louisa recovered rapidly, and when she asked for her brother on Sabbath evening,. Mrs. Young said he was to preach twice that day. Monday morning arrived, and Irene returned to school with a heavy heart, fearing that she had wounded him; but a few days after Louisa brought her a book and brief note of kind words.. About this time she noticed in her letters from home allu- sions to her own future lot, which increased her uneasiness. It was very palpable that her father expected her to accede to his wislkes regarding. a union with her cousin;. and she knew only too well how fierce was the contest before her. Hugh wrote kindly, affectionate- ly; and if she could have divested her mind of this apprehension, his letters would lave comforted her. Thus situated, she turned to her books with redoubled zest, and her natu- rally fine intellect was taxed- to the utmost. Her well-earned pre-eminence in her classes increased the jealousy, the dislike, and censo- riousness of her less -studious comppanions. Months passed ; and though she preserved a calm, impenetrable exterior, taking no heed' of sneers and constant persecution, yet the worm gnawed its slow way, and the plague- spot spread in that'whilom pure spirit. One Saturday morning she sat quite alone in her small room; the week had been specially pain- ful, and, wearied in soul,-thegirl laid her head down on her folded arms and thought of her home in the far South. Thespicf fragrance of orange and magnolia came to her,: and Erebus and Paragon haunted her recollection. Oh ! for one ride through the old pine-woods. Oh! for one look at the water-lilies being obver the creek.Only one wretched year had passedl--how could she endurethose which were to come. A loud, tap'startled, her from this painful reverie, and, ere she could utter the stereotyped "come n," Louisa sprang to her side. "I have come for you, Irene ; have obtained, permission from Dr. for you to accom- pany us to tfi Academy of Design." Pit 'on your bonnet ; Harvey is waiting in the raeor Lion-room. *We shall have a charming day. # - 40, lii I page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] MACARIA. 43 " Ah, Louisa! you are all very kind to rec- ollect me so constantly. It will give me great pleasure to go" When they joined the mister Irene fancied lze received. her coldly, and as they walked on he took no part inthe conversation., The an, xiual exhibition had just opened; the rooms were thronged with visitors, and the hifshed tones. swelled to a monotonous hum. Some stood in groups, expatiating eagerly on certain ictures; others occupied ,e seats and leisure- yscanned now the paint s, now the crowd. Furnished with a catalog, the girls moved slowly on, while Mr. Young pointed out the prominent beauties or defects of the works exhibited. They made the circuit of the room, and began a second tour, when their attention was attracted by agirl who stood in one corner, with her hands clasped behind her. .She was gaming very intently on an Ecce-flomo, and, though her face was turned toward the wall, the -posture . bespoke most unusual interest. She was dressed i black, and, having remov- ed 'her straw hat, the rippling jetty hair, cut short like a boy's, glistened in the mellow light. Irene looked at her an instant, and held her breath; she had seen only, one -other head which resembled that-she knew the purplish waving hair. "What is the matter ?" asked the.minister, noting the change-in her coun- tenance. She made no answer, but leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the face. Just then the black figure moved slightly; she saw, the profile, the beautiful straight nose, the arched brow, the clear olive cheek; and glid- ing up to her she exclaimed: "Electra! Electra Grey " The orphan turned, and they were locked in a tight embrace. "Oh,Irie ! I'am so glad to see you. I have been here so long, and looked for you so often, that I had almost despaired. Whenever I walk down Broadway, wheneve- I go out any where, I look at every face, peep into every bonnet, hoping, to find you. Oh ! I am ao glad." Joy flushed the cheeks and fired the deep eyes, and people turned from the canvas on the walls to gaze upon two faces surpassing in beauty aught that the Academy contained. "But what tare you- doing in New York, Electra? Is Russell with you? How long have you been here?". "Since October last. Russell is at home ; no, he has no home, now. When my aunt' died we separated; I came on to study under Mr. Clifton's care. Have you not heard of our loss ?" t "I have been able to hear nothing of you. I wrote to Dr. Arnold, inqurng after you, but he probably never received my letter." "Andyour father?" queried Electra proudly. "Father told mxe nothing." * .. "is the grave not deep enough for his hate ?" " What;do you mean ?" - "You don't probably know all that I do; but this is no place to discuss such matters ; some time we will talk of it. Do come and see me soon-soon. I must go now, I prom- ised." . . "Where do you live; I will go home with you now.".4 "I am not going home immediately. Mr. Clifton's house' is No. 85 West-, street. Come this afternoon." With a long, warm pressure of hands they parted, and Irene stood looking after the graceful figure till it glided out of sight. "In the name of wonder, who is that ? You two have been the observedd of all observers,' ejaculated the impulsive Louisa. "That is my od school-mate and friend of whom I once spoke to you. I had no idea that she wasin New York. She is a poor or- phan.". "Are you ready to return home? This episode has evidently driven pictures out of your head for to-day," said Mr. Young, who had endeavored to screen her from obser- vation. "Yes, quite ready to go, though .Y have enjoyed the morning very much indeed, thanks to your kindness." Soon after they reached home Louisa was called inter the parlor to see a young friend'; and as Mrs. Young was absent, Irene found it rather lonely up stairs. She thought of a new volume of travels which she had noticed on the hall-table as they entered, and started down to get it. About half-way of the flight' of steps she caught ,her foot in the carpeting, where one of the rods chanced to be loose, and, despite her efforts, to grasp the railing, fell to the floor of the hall, crushing one arm under her. The library-door was thrown open in. stantly, and the minister came out. She lay motionless, and he bentover her; "Irene I where are 'you hurt ? Speak to me." He raised her in his arms an. placed her on the sofa in the sitting-room. The motion produced great pain, and she groaned and shut her eyes. A crystal vase containing some exquisite perfume stood on his mother's work-table, and, pouring a portion of the contents in his palm, he bathed her forehead. Acute suffering distorted her features, and. his face grew pallid as her own while he watched her. Taking her hand, he repeated: "Irene, my darling ! tell me how you are hurt ?" She looked at him, and said with some dif- "ficulty : " My ankle pains me very much, and I be- lieve my arm is broken. I can't move it-" " Thank God you were not killed.'" He kissed her, then turned away and de- spatched a servant for a physician. He sum- moned Louisa,' and inqtired fruitlessly for his mother ; no one knew. whither she had gone ; it would not do to wait for her. He stood by the sofa and prepared the necessary bandages, while his sister could only cry over and caress the sufferer. When the physician came the white dimpled arm was bared, and he discov- ered that the bone was broken. - The setting was extremely painful, but she lay with closed eyes and firmly compressed lips, uttering no sound, giving no token of the torture, save in the wrinkling of her forehead. They bound the arm tightly, and then the doctor said that the ankle was badly strained and swollen, but there was, luckily, no fracture.. He gave minute directions to the minister and with- drew, praising the patient's remarkable forti- tude. Louisa would talk, and her brother sent her off to prepare a room for her friend. " I think I had better go back to the' Insti- tute, Mr. Young. - It will be a long time be- fore I can walk again, and I wish you would have me. carried' back. Dr. - will be so uneasy; and-will prefer my returning, as Fath- er left me in his- charge." She tried to rise, but sank back on the pillow. "Hush ! hush ! You will stay where you are,. little cripple. I am only thankful you hap- pened to be here."' He smoothed the folds' of hair from her temples, and for the first time played with the" curls he had so often before -been tempted to touch. She looked so slight, so childish, with' her head nestled against the pillow, that he forgot she was almost sixteen, forgot every- thing but the beauty of the pale face, and bent over her with an expression of the ten- derest love. She was suffering too much- to notice his countenance, and only felt that he was very kind and gentle. Mrs. Young came in very soon, and heard with the deepest so- licitude of what had occurred. Irene again requested to be taken to. the school, fearing that she would cause too much trouble during, her long confinement to the house. But Mrs. .Young stopped her arguments with kisses, and would listen to no such arrangement; .'she would -trust to no one 'but herself to nurse "the bruised Southern lily." Having seen that all was in readiness, she insisted on ear- rying her guest to th% room adjoining Louiaa's and opening into her, own. Mr. Young had gone to Boston the day before; and, turning to her son, she said : " Harvey, as your father is away, you must take Irene up stairs ; I am not strong enough. Be careful thAt you do not hurt her.' She led the' way, and bending down, he whispered: "My little sister, put this uninjured arm around my neck ; there-now I shall carry you as easily as if you were in a cradle." He 'held her firmly, and as lie bore her up the steps the white face lay oif his .bosom and. the golden hair floated against his cheek. If she had looked at him then, she 'would have seen more than he intended that any one should know; for, young and free from vanity though she was, it was impossible to mistake the expression of the eyes riveted upon her. She never knew how his great heart throbbed, nor suspected that he turned his lips to the streaming curls. As he consigned her to his mother's care she held out her hand and thanked him for hisgreat kindness, little dream- ing of the emotions with which he held -her fingers. He very considerately offered to go at one to the principal of'the school and ac- quaint him with all that had occurred; and, ere long, when an anodyne had been adminis- tered, she fell asleep, and found tempo ry relief. Mrs. Young wrote immediately to 1r. Huntingdon, and explained the circumstances which had made his daughter her guest for. some weeks at least, assuring him that he need indulge no apprehension whatever on her ac- count, as sh Would nurse her as tenderly asa mother could. Stupefied by the opiate, Irene took little;notice of what passed, except when roused by the pain consequent upon dressing the ankle. Louisa went to school as usual but her mother rarely left their guest; and after Mr..Young's return he treated her with all the affectionate consideration of a parent. Several days after the occurrence of the acci- dent Irene turned toward the minister, who stood talking to his mother. "Your constant kindness emboldens me to ask a favor of you, which I think .you will scarcely' deny me. I am very anxious to see the friend whom I so unexpectedly met at the Academy of Design ; and if she knew the cir- cumstances that prevent my leaving the house, I am very sure she would come to me. Here is a card containing her address; will you spare me the time to bring her here to-day ? I shall be very much obliged to you. "I think you ought to kee perfectly quiet, and see no company for a fewdays. Can't you wait patiently ?" " It will do me no harm to see her. I feel as if I could,-not wait." "Very well, I will go after her as soon as I have fulfilled a previous engagement. What is her name"?" " Electra Grey. Did you notice her face ?" " Yes; but why do you ask ?" " Because I think she resembles your moth- er." " She resembles far more an old portrait hanging in my room. I remarked it as soon as I saw her." He seemed lost in thought, and immediately after left the room. An hour later Irene's listening ear detected the opening and closing of the hall.door. " There is Electra on the steps ; I hear het voice. Will you please open the door ?'? Mrs. Young laid down 'her work and rose 'to comply, but Harvey ushered the stranger in and then retired. 42 MA.C:ARIA.. page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] ARIA. 44 MAC The lady of the house looked at the new- comer, and a startledrexpression came instant- ly into her countenance. , She made a step forward and paused irresolute. "Mrs. Young, allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Electra Grey." Electra bowed, and Mrs. Ybung exclaimed : " Grey ! Grey! Electra Grey; and so like - Robes '/ Oh ! it must be so. Child, who are you ? Where are your parents ?" She approached, and put her hand on the girl's shoulders, while a hopeful light kindled in her eyes. "I am an orphan, Madam, from the South. My father died before my birth-my mother immediately after." " Was your father's name Robert ? Where was he from ?" " His name was Enoch R. Grey. I don't know what his middle name was. He came originally from Pennsylvania, I believe." ' "-Oh! I knew that I could not be mistaken ! My brother's child ! Robert's 'child I" She threw her arms around the astonished girl and strained her to her heart. " There must be some . mistake, Madam. I never heard that I had relatives in New York." "Oh, child ! call me Aunt ; I am your father's sister. We called him by his middle name, 'Robert, and for eiglhteen-years have heard nothing of him. Sit down here, and let me tell you the , circumstances. Your 'father was the youngest of three children, and in his youth gave us peat distress by his wild- ness; he ran away from college and went to sea. After an absence of three years he re- turned, almost a wreck of his former self. My mother had died during his long voyage to the South Sea islands, and father, who believed him to have, been the remote cause of her death (for her health failed soon after he left), upbraided him most harshly and unwisely. His reproaches drove poor Robert to despera- tion,.and, without givig us any clew, he left home as suddenly as before.'Whither he went we never knew. Father was so incensed that he entirely 'disinherited him; but at hisdeath, when the estate was divided, my Brother Wil- liam and I decided that we would take only what we considered our proportion, and we set apart one-third for Robert. We advertised for, several years, but could hear nothing of him; and at the end of the fifth year William divided that remainin third. We knew that he must have died, and I have passed many a sleepless night weeping over his wretched lot, mourtnng that no kind words -reached 'him. from us---that no monumental stone marked his unknown grave. Oh, my - dear child ! I am so glad to find you out. But where have you been all this time ? Where did Robert die ?" She held the orphan's hand, and made no attempt to conceal the tears that rolled over N her cheeks.. Electra gave her a detailed ac- count of her life from the time when she was taken to her uncle, Mr. Aubrey, at the age of four months, till the death of her aunt and her removal to New York. " And Robert's child has been in want, while we knew not of her existence ! Oh, Electra ! you shall have no more sorrow'.that we can shield you from. I loved. your father very 'devotedly, and I shall love his orphan quite as dearly. Come to me ; let me be your mother. Let me repair the wrong of by-gone years." She folded her arms around the graceful young. form and sobbed. aloud, while Irene fpund it difficult to repress her own tears of sympathy and joy that her friend had found such relatives. Of the three, Electra was calmest. Though glad to meet with her father's family, she knew better than they that this circumstance could make little alteration in her life, and therefore, when Mrs. Young left the room to acquaint her husband and son with the discovery she had. made, Electra sat down beside her friend's sofa just as she would have done two hours before. " I am so glad for your sake that you are to come and live here. Until you know them all as well as I do, you can not properly appreci- ate your good fortune," said .'Irene, raising herself on her elbow. " Yes, I am very glad to meet my aunt," re- turned Electra evasively, and then she added earnestly: "But I rather think that I am gladder still to see you again. Oh, Irene !lit seems an age since I came to this city. We have both changed a good deal; you look graver than when we parted that spring morning that you took me to see the painter. I owe even his acquaintance to your kindness." " Tell me of all that happened after I left home. You know that I have heard noth- ing." The orphan narrated the circumstances connected with her aunt's last illness and' death ; the wretchedness that came upon her and Russell; the necessity of their separation. "And where is Russell now ?" "At home-that is, still with Mr. Campbell, who has proved a kind friend. Russell writes once a week ; he seems tolerably cheerful, and speaks confidently of- his future as a lawyer. He studies very hard, and,I know that he will succeed." " Your cousin is very ambitious. I wish he could have had a good education." "It will be all the same in the end. He will educate himself thoroughly; he needs no- body's 'assistance," answered Electra with a proud smile. " When you'write to him again don't forget to tender him' my remembrances and best wishes." " Thank you." . ' MACARIA. . A slight change came over the orphan's countenance, and her companion noted with- out understanding it. " Electra, you spoke of my father the other day in a way that puzzled me, and I wish, if you please, you would tell me what you meant." "I don't know that I ought to talk about things that should have been buried before you were born. But you probably know some- thing of what happened. We found out after you left why you were so suddenly sent off to boarding-school, and you can have no idea how 4nuch my poor aunt was distressed at the thought of having caused your banishment. Irene, your father hated her, and of course y6u know it ; but do you know why ?" "No; I never could imagine aiy adequate' cause." " Well I can tell you. Before Aunt Amy's marriage your father loved her, and to please her parents she accepted him. She was mis- erable, because she was very much attached to my uncle, and asked Mr. Huntingdon to re- lease her from the engagement. He declined, and, finding that her parents sided with him, she left home and married against their wishes., They adopted a distant relative, and never gave her a cent. Your father never forgave her. He had great influence with the gov- ernor, and she went to him and entreated him to aid her in procuring a pardon for her hus- band. He repulsed her cruelly, and used.'his; influence against my uncle. She afterward saw a letter which Ihe wrote to the governor, urging him to withhold a pardon. Oh, Irene ! if ,you could have seen Russell when he found out all this. .Now you have thekey to his hatred; now you understand why he wrote you nothing concerning us. Not even Aunt Amy's coffin could shut in his hate.". She rose, and, walking to the window, press-, ed her face against the panes to cool her burn- ing cheeks. Irene had put her hand over her eyes, and a. fearful panorama of coming years rolled before her in that brief moment. She saw with' miserable distinctness the parallelism between Mrs. Aubrey's father and her own, and, sick at heart, she moaned, contemplating her lot. A feeling ,of remorseful compassion touched the orphan as she heard the smothered sound, and, resuming her seat, she said gently: " Do not be distressed, Irene; 'let the dead past bury its dead;' it is all over-now, and no more harm can come of it. I shall be sorry that I told you if you let it trouble you."I Irene knew too well that it *as not over; that it was but the beginning of harm to'her; but she repressed her emotion, and changed the subject by -'inquiring 'how Electra pro- gressed with her painting. " Even better than I hoed. *Mr. Clifton is an adinirable master, and does all' that he can to aid me. I shall succeed, Irene I- I know, I 45 feel that I shall, and it is a great joy to me." " I -am very glad to hear it; but now- You will have no need to -labor, as you once ex- pected to do. You are looking. much better than I ever, saw you, and have grown taller. You are nearly sixteen, I believe ?" "Yes, sixteen. I am three months your senior. 'Irene, I must go home now, for they will wonder what has become of me. I will see you again soon." Sbe was detained by her aunt, and present- ed to the remainder of the family, and it was arranged that Mr. and Mrs. Young should visit her the ensuing day. While they talked over the tea-table of the newly-found,. Harvey went slowly up stairs and knocked at Irene's door. Louisa was chattering delightedly about 'her cousin, and, sending her down .to her tea, he took her seat beside the sofa. Irene lay with her fingers over her eyes, and he said gently : " You see that I am wiser than you, Irene. I knew that it would do you no good to have company. Next time be advised." , "It was not Electra that harmed me." " Then you admit that you, 'have been harmed ?" " No; I am low-spirited to-night; I believe- that is all." " You have not studied dialectics yet. Peo- pleeare not. low-spirited without a cause ; tell me what troubles you." She turned her face to the wall, and- an- swered : , " Oh ! there is nothing which I can tell you, sir." "Irene, why ao you distrust me ?" "I do not; indeed I do not. You must not believe that for one moment." "Y u are distressed, and yet will not con- fide in me." "It is something. which I ought not to'tell even my friend-my brother." " You are sure that it is something I could not remedy?" "Yes, sir ; perfectly sure." " Then try to forget it, and let me read to you." He opened the "'Rambler," of which she was particularly fond, and began to reads For a while she listened, and in her interest forgot her forebodings,.but after a time, the long silky lashes swept her cheeks, and she slept. The minister laid down the volume and watched the pure girlish face ; noted all its witching lovelinesb, and thought of the homage' which it would win her in coming years. A few more fleeting months, and she wouldreign the undisputed jueen of so,eiety. Wealth in- tellect, manly beauty, all would bow beore her ; and she was a woman ;' would doubtless love and marry, like, the majority of women. He set this fact before him and lookedd it in the face,' but it would not answer ; he coul4 page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] 46 M40Al A. not realize that she would ever be other than the trusting, noble-hearted, beautiful child which. she was to him. He knew as he sat watching her slumber that he loved her ktbove everything on earth ; that she wielded a pow- er none had ever possessed before-that his heart was indissolubly linked with 'her. He had wrestled with this infatuation, had station- ed himself on the platform of sound common sense, and railed at and ridiculed this piece of folly. His clear, cool reason gave solemn ver- dict against the fiercely-throbbing heart, but not one, pulsation had been restrained. At his age, with his profession and long-laid plans, this was arrant madness, and he admitted it ; but the long down-trodden'feelings of his heart, having gained momentary freedom, exulting- ly ran riot and refused to be. reined in. lie might just as *ell have laid his palm on the whitened crest of surging billows in stormy, tropical seas, and bid them sink softly down to their coral pavements. Human' passions, ha- tred, 'ambition, revenge, love, are despots; and the minister, who for thirty years had struggled for mastery over these, now found himself a slave. He had studied Irene's countenance too well not to know that a shad- ow rested on it now ; add it grieved apd per- plexed him that she should conceal this trouble from him. As he sat looking down at her a mighty barrier rose between them. His future hadlong been determined-duty called him to the rude huts of the far West; thither pointed the finger of Destiny, and thither, at all haz- ards, he would go. He thought that he 'had habituated himself to sacrifices, but the spirit of self-abnegation was scarcely equal to this trial. Reason taught him that the tenderly- nurtured child of southern climes would never suit him for' a companion in the pioneer-life 'which he had marked out. Of course, he must leave her ; hundreds of miles would intervene ; his memory would. fade from her mind, and for him it only remained to bury her image in the prairies of his new home. He folded his arms tightly over his chest, and resolved to go promptly.. The gas-light flashed on Irene's hair as it hung over the side of the sofa; he stooped and pressed his lips to the floating curls, and went down to the library smiling grimly at his own folly. Without delay he wrote two letters, and was dating a third, when hi mother came in. Placing a chair for her, he laid down his pen. "I am glad to see you, Mother; I want to have a talk with you." ', "About what, Harvey ?" an anxious look settled on her face. -' "About my leaving you, and going West. I have decided to start next week." . " Oh, my son'! how can you bring such grief upon me ? Surely 'there is work enough for you to do here, without your tearing yout- aif' from us." " Yes, Mother, work enough, but hands enough also, without nine. These are the sunny slopes of the Vineyard, and laborers crowd to till them; but there are cold, shad- owy, barren nooks and corners that equally demand cultivation. There the lines have fallen to me, and there I go to my work. Nay, Mother ! don't weep; don't heighten, by your entreaties and remonstrances, the barriers to my departure. It is peculiarly the province of such as I to set forth for this field of opera- tions ; men who have wives and children have no right to subject them to the privations and hardships of pioneer life. But I am alone- shall always be-so-and' this call I feel to be imperative. You know that I have dedicated myself to the ministry, and whatever I firmly believe to be my duty to the holy cause I have espoused, that I must do even though it sepa- rate me from my mother. It is a severe ordeal to me-you will probably never know 'how severe; but we who profess to yield up all things for Christ must not shrink from sacri- fice. -I shall come back now and then, and letters are a blessed medium of communica- tion and consolation. I have delayed my de- parture too long already." " Oh, Harvey h.have you fully determined on this step ?". "Y es, my dear Mother, fully determined to go." a It is very hard for me to give up my only son. Can't say that I will reconcile myself to this separation ; but you are old enough to decide your own future; and I suppose I ought not to urge you. For months I have opposed your resolution ; now I will not longer remonstrate. Oh, Harvey ! it makes my heart ache to part with you. if you were married, I should be better satisfied; but to think of' you in your loneliness l" She laid her head on his shoulder, and wept. The minister compressed his lips firmly an instant, then replied: "1 always told you that I should never mar- ry. I shall be too constantly-occupied to sit down and feel lonely. Now, Mother, I must finish my letters, if you please, for'they should go by the earliest mail." CHAPTER IX. The artist stood at the window watching for his pupil's return; it was the late afternoon hour, which they were wont to spend in read- ing, and her'absence annoyed him..A s he rested carelessly against the window, ,his graceful form was displayed to great advan- tage, and the long brown hair drooped about a' classical face of almost feminine beauty., The delicacy of his features was enhanced by the extreme pallor of his complexion, and it was apparent that close application to his pro- fession had made serious inroads on a consti- tution never very robust. A certain listless- ness of manner, a sort of lazy-grace seemed characteristic ; but, when his pupil came in and laid aside her bonnet, the expression of ennui vanished, And he threw himself on a sofa, looking infinitely relieved. She drew near, and without hesitation acquainted him with the discovery of her relatives in, New York. He listened in painful surprise, and, ere she had concluded, sprang .up. "I un- derstand I they will want to take you ;, will urge you to share their home of wealth, But, Elect ra, you won't leave me ; surely you won't leave me ?" He put his hands on. her shoulders, and she knew from his quick, irregular breathing that the thought of separation greatly distressed him. ' My aunt has not explicitly invited me to reside with her, though I inferred from her manner that she confidently expected me to do, so. Irene also spoke of it as a settled matter." "'You will not allow them to persuade you ? Oh, child ! tell me at once that you will never leave me." "Mr. Clifton, we must part sone, day ; I can not always live here, you know. Before very long I must go out and earn my bread." " Never I while I live. When' I offered' you a home,.I expected it to be a'permanent one. .1 intended to adopt you: Here, if you, choose, you may work and earn a reputation ; but away from me, among strangers, never. Electra, you forget ; you gave yourself to me once.' She shuddered, and tried to release herself, but the hands were relentless in their grasp. "Electra, you belong to me, . my child. Whom have I-to love but you, my dear pupil'? What should I do without you ?" "1 Ihave~n tention of livig with my aunt; I desire to be under obligations to no one buti yourself. But I am very proud, and even tem- porary dependence on you galls me. You are, I believe, the best friend I have on earth, and4 until I can support myself I will remain under your care; longer than that, it would' be im- possible. I am bound \ to you, my generous, kind master, as to no one else." " This'-does not satisfy me; .the thought that l you' will leave me, at even a distant day, will haunt me coptinually-marring all my joy. It can not be, Electra ! You gave'yourself tot me once, and I claim you." Shp looked into his eyes, and, 'with a, wom-1 an's quick perception, read all-the truth. In an instant .her countenance changed painfully.; she stooped, touched his hand with hrlps, and exclaimed: -,- "Ihank you, a thousand times, my friend, my father ! for your interest in, and your un-t varying, unparalleled kindness to me. All ~ thegratitude and affection which a child could ,give to a parent I shall always cherish toward you. Since it annoys you, we will say no more boat the ftiture; let the years take care of themselves as they .come." "Will u promise me, positively,'that you will not go to your aunt ?" "Yes ; I have never seriously entertained the thought." She escaped from his hands, and, lighting the gas, applied herself to her books for the. next hour. If Irene had found the restraint of boarding- school irksome, the separation from Russell was well nigh intolerable to Electra. ,At4lrst she had seemed plugged in lethargy; butafter a time this mood gave place to restless, unceas- ing activity. ,Like 'one trying to flee from something painful, she rushed daily to her work, and regretted when the hours of dark- ness consignee her to reflection. Mrs. Cliftoil was quite aged, and though:unirmly gentle and affectionate toward the phan, there was no common ground' of congeniality on which they could meet. To a,.,roud, exact- ing nature like Electra's, Mr. Ulifton's eon- stant manifestations of lone and sympathy were very soothing. Writhing under the con- sciousnes of her cousin's indifference, she turned eagerly to receive the tokens of affee- tion showered upon her. She knew that his happiness centred in her, and vainly fancied that she could feed her hungry heart with his adoration. But by degrees she realized that these husks would not satisfy her ; and a sin- gular sensation of mingled gratitude and im- patience arose whenever he caressed her. In his house her fineintellect found ample range; an extensive library wooed her, when not en- gaged with her pencil, and with eager cur- osity she plunged into various departments of study. As might easily have been predicted, from. the idealistic tendency of her entire mental confirmation, she early selected the imaginative realm as peculiarly her own., Over moth-eaten volumes of mythologic lore she pored continually; effete theogonies and cosmogonies seized upon her .fancy, and peo- pled all space with the gods and heroes:of most ancient days. She lived among weird phantasmagoric creations of Sagas and J url nas, and roamed from Asgard to Kinkaddlle, having little sympathy or care for the realities that surrounded her. Mr..Clifton's associates were principally.artists,-and the conversations to which slts listened tended to increase her enthusiasm for the profession she had chosen. She had' no f 'ale companion except Mr$ Clplton,'and little leisure to -discuss the topics which ordinarily-^engage girls of her age, The warm gushnga of hr heart were driven back to their sprims and locked from human gazei yet shesomete 'felt her isolation almost in- olerable. :To escape from herself she' was goaded into feverish'activity, and, toiling To- lay, shut her eyes to the To-morrow. MAC. IA. r 4'? d page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 MACARIA. She counted the days between Itussell's leters ; when they arrived, snatched them with trembling fingers, and hastened to,. her own room to devour them. Once read and folded away, this thought fell, with leaden weight upon her heart': " There is so little in this let- ter, and now I must wait another long week for the next." He never surmised half her wretchedness, for she proudly concealed her discontent, and wrote.as if happy and hopeful. The shell of her reserve was beautifully pol- ished and painted,.and it never occurred to him that 'it enclosed dark cells where only wailings echoed. In figure, shewas decidedly petit, but faultlessly sjmmetrigal and grace- ; and the piquant ,beauty of her face won her the admiration of those who frequented the studio. Among the artists especially she was a well- established pet, privileged to inspect their work whenever she felt disposed, and always warmly welcomed. They encouraged her in her work, stimulated her by no means dor- mant ambition, and predicted a brilliant and successful career. Mrs. Clifton was a rigid Roman Catholic; her son a free-thinker, in the broadest significance of the term, if one might judge from the 'selections that adorned his library shelves. But deep in hissoul was the germination of a mystical creed, which gradu- ally unfolded itself to Electra. The simple yet sublime faith of her aunt rapidly faded from the girl's heart; she turned from its se- vere simplicity to the gorgeous accessories of other systems. The pomp of ceremonial, the bewildering adjuncts of another creed, wooed her overweening, excited fancy. Of doctrine she kne* little 'and cared less; the bare walls and quiet service of the old church at home had for her no attraction; she revelled in dim cathedral light, among mellow, ancient pict- ures, where pale wreaths of incense curled, and solemn organ-tones whispered through marble aisles. She would sit with folded arms, watch- ing the forms of deirotees glide in and out, and prostrate themselves before'the images on the gilt altar; and Fancy wafted her, at such times, to the dead ages of imperial Greece, when de- vout hearts bore offerings to Delphi, belos, Dodona, and Eleusis. An arch-idolatress she would have been in the ancient days of her Mycenaean namesake-a priestess of Demeter or Artemis., At all hazards this dainty fancy must be pampered, and she gleaned aliment fromevery source that could possily yield it, fostering a despotic tendency which soon towered above every 'ether ,element of her being. The first glimpse of her teacher's Swe enborgian faith was sufficient to rivet her attention. S be watched the expansion of his theories, and essayed to follow the profound trains of argumentation, based on pysical analogies and correspondences, which td him so irresistibly to his conclusions. But dialectics foi-med no portion of her intellectual heritage, and her imagination seizing, by a kind of secret affinity, the spiritualistic elements of the system, turned with loathing from the granite- like, scientifiefundamentals. Irene would have gene down among the mortar and -bricks, measuring the foundations, but Electra gazed upon the exquisite acanthus-wreathings of the ornate capitals, the glowing frescos of the mighty nave, and here was content to rest. Mr. Clifton never attempted to restrain her movement or oppose her inclinations; like a bee she roved ,ceaselessly from book to book, seeking honey, and, without the safeguard of its unerring instinct, she. frequently gathered poison from lovely chalices. .Ah, Amy Aubrey ! it was -an evil day for your orphan charge .when Atropos cut the tangled thread of your life, and you left her to, follow the dictates of her stormy temperament. Yet otherwise, nature could never have fullywoven the pat- tern; it would have been- but a;blurred, im- perfect design. It was late at night when Electra retired to her room and sat down to collect her thoughts after the unexpected occurrences of the day. More than one discovery had been made since the sunrise, which she awoke so early to study. She had found relatives, and an op- portunity of living luxuriously ; but, in the midst of this beautiful bouquet of surprises, a serpent's, head peered out at her. Once be- fore she thought she had caught sight of its writhing folds, but it vanished too instaiane- ously to furnish disquiet, Now its glittering eyes held her spell-bound ; like the Pentagram in Faust,,it kept her in "durance vile." She would fain have shut her. eyes had it been pos- sible. Mr. Clifton loved her : not as a teacher his pupil, not as guardian loves ward, not as -parent loves child. Perhaps he had not intend- ed that she should know it so soon, but his eyes had betrayed the secret. She saw perfectly. how matters stood. This, then, had prompted,. him, from the first, to render her assistance ; he had resolved to make her his wife; nothing less, would content him. She twisted . her white fingers in her hair, and gazed vacantly down on the carpet, and gradually the rich' crimson blood sank out of her face. She held his life in the hollow of her hand, and this she well knew ; death hung over him like the sword of Damocles; she had been told that any violent agitation or grief would bring on 'the hemorrhage which he so much dreaded, and although he seemed stronger and better than usual, the insidious nature, of his disease gave-her little hope that he would ever be ro-' bust. To feign ignorance of his real feelings for her wouldprove but a temporary strata- gem;. the time must inevitably come, before long, when he would put aside this veil and set the truth before her. Hlow should she meet it.-how should she evade him? .,Accept the home which Mrs. Young would offer her, and leave him to suffer brietly, to sink swiftly int hestomb~No; her fathers: family haJI ee' t iNjh1e&1 (1 NaH' T t , s :ndsunjustly ffwithholdingh i patons6f herpoie ., care :raneny ;!and now shescorned, 'tieveioe ed eir ath0a cent of the aloney which ,his fath wasui. fn w lllin I, the':,llouklndy MeId ho o 01 inneyie ifig tath ,soldejoy, ;Be oi ho' "you sl o ld remember, _Elentra, =btha ie loved her asyell s iHenry "lifton She opha iree , proteetr ch owed more tohim than to any hyin being; it fain prove .se", 'uld be thejiart of an ingrateto leave him; As r pke e tok one itwas cowardly to.shrink from repaying the handsand re r to hin Sh i dpbt". fut the thought;pf being hiswifs froze quickly and laidte other oi the art fiai4 her lood;',and;l eavy rops.'gathered on her I have one lr ,°sir a protet t brow as sheendeavored to re ect upon- thi and kind as no wn fat er could possibility. She underst o the flash ofhs eyes and hs AfMeeling of unconquerable repulsion sprang proud 'smile,'as..o assured .held rlati tat up i her heart,- nervingesteelingher against he'would guar hef frbom hares and s t o -isa affection. With a strange instantanueous' long as he lved or as-she re 'id de hif reaction, she thoughtwith loathing, of his; care: She~kin hei'egard d this as ttcit wordsefendearment. How could-she endure sealing of le of1 compactr andshe had no in- the, in future, yet how reject without wound; elieition to unxd chive him at this juncture. -ig him? One,'and only one, path of escape Urging her tovisi the' as ofen as posible p nted itself-a path .of measureless joy and extendin he invitatio ,A to Mi'A Olifth i e lifted her hands, -and murmurded: the.Yungs it drewtvidentlor muchdisap' "Russell! Russell- !save me fror this. - paded and, a, sidoclose behind the, .When Mr. and.Mrs. Young 'sited the stu- ledtratielt.tha thurcircle of doom .was die the following day, and -urged the oiphan's rowing around herz Mr. Clifton aa removal to their house,;she gently bet eso-. her.bt aerting herhead, shelitted hOdamn- lutely declined their'generous=offr,,fexpress;as cs urtain that divided the parlor froddhe ig an affectionate gratitue( toward' her: studio and effectedher retreat, dreadin, to teacher, and a determination not to leave him, meet his glance-puttng off the evilday as' at least for:the present. Mrs. Yodng was long as possible--trying to trarn leh, ths ser- much distressed, and adduced every argument. dent: that trailed after her from that hour. of rhich she, was distress, hut" her niece re- mained firm; and, finding 'their. entreaties fruitless, Mr. Young, said thathe would im- mediately take the necessary teps to secureA E Robert Grey's.portion of the 'estate to his CHAT X daughter. . Electra sat with her hand nestled " You are better, to-day, Mother tells me." meher aunt's, but when this matter was alluded "Yes, thank u, my foot is much better. 'to, she rose, and said proudly: ."You have not been 'ip to see me for two " No,sir:; let the, estate remain just as it is. 'days." I will nvedraccept one dent. My grandfather irene sat in an easyehair by.the open *ip- on his death-bed excluded my father from any dow, nd the. minister'took a seat near aher. portion of it, and since heiwilled it so, even .so "I have not forgotten ou in the inter it shell be. I have no legal claim to a dollar, however."' As h spoke hlaid a bouq and I Will never weveive one from your gen- choice flowers in sher lap. She bent ovr esity, It was the will of the dead that you with eager, delight, and held out one hand and my. Uncle 'William should inherit the saying: whole, and, as far as am concerned, have it - Oh, thank you; how very kd you you shall, Iam poor, I know ; so, were my These remind se f t e reenhiou e athel parents ; poverty- they beqcueathed as mny they are the most beautiful I have ee in Nw birthright,,and even as they lived without aid York:" frm"my grandfather so will L. I-t is very h ene, the main or womfan hoas inperva. ob e and ,generous in young after the expi- ous to theasubtle, spiritualiaing aiuenes (dt rotie of.nearlytwenty years,to be willing to flowers may feel assured that thees e g diyide with theorphsni of the utcast; but I thirn lamentaby ar;iss aneithehis keyr will not, can notr ahllw youto do so. I fully organization or habits of life. TX e# .prec mite and most ordially thank you both foy links fts.4sociatr ;ul inor blin g thanf r your goodness ; ut amyoung andarongr stee, and some mes of icc1euaple e eay pecto earntmy living. M.a Clfton Aiid the awf f : olitude oa s Aud a , l and Is mother wat eto remaining is recollc the thill oasrt'ehs: he r loui until finish my seudiesand I rate- gentias ause4me, as I kotedth fully accept hiskiid ffr.NayAunt I don't; eals sludderiii aox t eey ea t let t trouble yoso ;ishall, visit you very t iedof eternal .t ie4 andaamofi= e;A6h' frequently " d inem.ne of thNf 8h.,reis atat, " She h as all of obrt's Iaereobtiacy, hdodendroesl; the a Y page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] MAO ARIA 51 50. MACARIA' like a 'mantle of blood' pver Sysrin valleys, and the oleanders fringing the gray, gloomy crags.and breathing:their exquisite fragrance' over the silent desolationof tl at grand city of rock---immemorial Petra. I have reinarked yoir fondness for flowers; cul ivate it always; they are evangels of purity an faith, if we but unlockour hearts to their ministry. Callous and sordid indee4must be th- t soul who fails. in, gratefatr appreciation of gifts: designed es- pecially to promote theh'appiness and adorn the dwellings of our race; for, in attestation of this truth, stand the 'huge, hotry. tomes.of ge- ology, proving that the pre-Adamic ages were comparatively barren of' the gorgeons.flowers which.tapestried the' earth so munificently just ere man made his appearance on the stage. A' reverent student of the rocks, who spent his life i listening to the solemn, oracular whis- ers of their grand granite lips, that moved, Memnon-like, as he flashed the light of Reve- lation upon them, tells us:-' The poet accepted the bee as a sign of high significancee ; the ge- ologist, also, accepts her as a sign. 'Her en- tombed remains testify to the gradual fitting up of our earth as a place of habitation for ascreat- ure destined to seek delight for the mind and eye as. certainly as for, the grbsser senses, and in especial mark the introduction of stately forest-trees and the arrival of the delicious flowers.' A profound thinker and eloquent writer, who is now doing a noble work for his generation by pointing it to unstained sources of happiness, has said of flowers: ' They are chalices of Divine workmanship-of purple and scarletrand liquid gold-from which man is to drink the pure joy of beauty.' There is you know, a graduated scale of missionary work for all created things; man labors foi God and his race through deep, often tor tuous, channels, and nature-all animate and inanimate nature-ministers in feebler yet stil heaven-appointed processes. The trouble is that in the rush and din and whirl of life, w will not pause to note these sermons; ant from year to year the, whispered precepts of faith, hope, and charity fall on deaf ears Nature'is so prodigal of refining: elevating in fluences, and man is, so inaccessible in his iso lating, inflated agotism." -He paused, and busied himself in cutting the leMaes of a new-book, while Irene looked inti his calm, noble face, pondering .his words then her eyes went hack to the bouquet, an liO welt once more upon her.y "Irene, you look sober to-day; come, chee up. 'I don't want to carry that grave express saba' away with me. I want to remember your face as I first saw:it) unshadowed." "What do you mean? Are you going t leav home '"' "'Ye; da after to-morrow I bid farewell t ew York for a long time.: I rdm going t' the West to take charge of a church." ~Oh, Mr. Young I surely you are not ii earnest? You can not intend, to separate yourself from your family'?" She dropped her flowers and leaned for- ward., '"Yep, I have had it in contemplation for, more than a year, and, recently, I have _de- cided to remove at once." IlIe saw the great sorrow, written in her- countenance, the quick flutter of her lip, the large drops .that dimmed the violet eyes and gathered on.the'long golden lashes; and far' sweeter than, Eolian harps was the broken voice : -. " What shall I do without you? who 'will encourage and advise me when you go ?" She leaned her forehead on her hands, and - a tear slid down and rested on her chin. The' sun was setting, and the crimson light flooding the room bathed her with glory, spreading a- halo around her. He held his breath and gazed upon the drooping figure and bewitch ing face ; and in after year s, when his dark hair had grown silvery gray, he remembered the lovely sunlit vision that so entranced him, leaving an indelible image on heart and brain. He gently removed- the hands, and holding I them in his.said, in the measured, low tone so 1 indictive of suppressed emotion: "Irene, my friend, you attach too much s importance, to the aid which I might render t you. You know your duty, and I feel assured s will not require to be reminded of it. Hence"- s forth our' -paths diverge widely. I go to a distant, section of our land, there to do my Father's work ; arid,. ere long, having con- eluded the prescribed course, you will return to your Southern home and take the position assigned you in society. Thus, in all human e probability, we shall meet no more, for- " " Oh, sir!'don't say that; you will come I back to visit your family, and then I shall see I you." s " That is.scarcely probable, but we will not e discuss it now. ,'Ihere, is, however, a channel 1 of communication for separated friends, and s of this we must avail ourselves. I shall write , to you from western wilds, and letters from you will most pleasantly ripple the monoto- - sous -life I expect to lead. This is the last - opportunity I shall have to speak with you-; .lef e me, do so freely, just' as I would to Louisa. o You are young and rather peculiarly sith ated; and sometimes I fear that, in the great d social vortex awaiting you, constant tempta- tion and ;frivolous associations will stifle the r noble impulses-nature gave to guide-you. As - you grow 'older you will more fully compre- r herd my meaning, and find that there 'are social problems which every true-hearted man o and' woman should earnestly strive'to,'solve. These will gradually unfold themselves, as o the web of time unravels' before you. You' o' will occupy an elevated stand.-pomnt of view, an'd you must take care that, unlike the great- n mass ofs mankind, you do hot grow callous;, turnipg;a deaf ear to the cry r-t lzborers are few.' It is not woman's place to obtrue her- self in the pulpitor harangue from, the ros- trum such an abnormal course levels the, distiitetiens which an all-wise God established between the sexes, but the aggregate of her usefulness is often greater than man's. Irene, I want you to yield the' vast influence your Maker has.given you nobly and for,His glory. Let your aiobstrusive yet consistent, resolute, unerring.conduct .leave its impress for' good wherever you are known. j would not have you debar yourself, from a 'single avenue of pureenjoyment; far from it. Monkish ascet-' tfis and puri anic bigotry Iabhor ; but there in a happy medium between-the wild ex- cesses.of so-called fashionable life and the straitlaced; rigidity of narrow-minded phari- seeism; and 'this I would earnestly entreat you- to select. To discover and adhere to this medium path is almost as difficult as to skip' across the Arabic Al-Sirat, of vhijch we read, last week. Ultraism is the curse of our ,'ace, as exemplified in all departments of society ; avoid it, dear child; cultivate' enlarged views of life, suppress selfishness, and remetnber that charity is the key-stone of Christianity." havenot the strength which you 'impute. to me-" Them;seek it from the Everlasting source.", I do, but God does not hear me." "You are too easily di heartened; strive to be faithful and lie will aid you, brace you, up,. hold you....Will, it be an comfort for you to' .know that I remember you in my prayers, that I constantly bear your name on my lips to the throne of' race '." "QA, yes l very great comfort.. Thank you, thanlc you; will you always pray for me? If I thought so it would make me happier." Then rest assui'ed that I always shall; and,t Irene, when sorrows come upon you-for come they must to all-do not forget that you have at least one firm, faithful friend, waiting and anxious to aid you- by' every means in his power. Disengaging her fingers, which still clasped I hia tightly, he moved his ,chair backward andt took a.sma1, blank-book from his pocket, say- ing:' "You once asked me to give.you a cata-s logue of thiose works which I thought it.advis-,s alge for y.ou to study before you plunged into miscellaneous reading. nSuch a list you will t find here, and my experience hay enabled mea to classify then so as to save you some o' thei trouble which I had at your age.' In examin- ing it, you will see that I have, giyen proli- nence to the so-called " atural Sciences.'' As p these furnishdata for almost alltbranches of ' mnvestigation, t owadays.(there being, a grow g ing tendency to 'argue from the analogy, of Physies), you can not too tlioroughly acquaint ursef'winh all that appertains to thsubjet. f he writings of Humboldt, Hugh Miller, Cu- c vier, 'and Agassiz constitute a thesaurus of scientific information essential to a correct ap= prep iation of the questions:notw agitating the thinking world ; and, as you proceed, youwill find the wonderful harmony' ot'eationtu- folding itself, proclaining, idpunmistakable aew cents, that the works of God' 'aregood.' As lime rolls on, the great truth looms up colossaly Sciencgeand Christianity are handmaids, t antaonists.' Irene, remember:": "cA pagan';k issfng ror a te of Pan,. The wild goat's hoo*print t theloamy down, .Exceeds our modern thliker who turns back The strata-graititelimnestone, cogw; agdeay' Concluding coldly with Herd 's law 1 w e's Gotl' "Can't you, stay longer and talk to me?'' said Irene, as' he gave the blank-book toher and rose. "No;J promised toaddress the street Sabbath-school children to-night, and must. look over my notes before I go." He 'glanced at his watch, smiled pleasantly, and left her. The following day awas dreary to all 'in that dwelling; Mrs. Young- went from room to room collecting various articles belonging to' her son, making no effort to conceal the tears that rolled constantly over her cheeks; {nd now and 'then Louisa's" sobs broke "the sad" silence. Harvey was engaged in the library packing his books, and b.lue saw'him to more till after tea. Then he cakne up with his, mother, and kindly inquired .concerniig her arm. He saw that sihe shared the .distress'of the family, and, glancing over his shoulder at his mother, he said, laughingly : " She looks too doleful to be left here alone all the evening. Can t we conitrjve to take her down stairs to the' sitting-room ?!What think you,;Motheri"' "Let her decide it herself. Shall Harvey take~you down, msy dear? It is his last even- ing at home, you 'know." - Her voice. faltered as she spoke. " should like to join you all at prayer once nore, and I thiik , Fcould walk down slowly,' with a little help. Suppose you let ime"try I walked a few steps yestei-day, by pugia chair before me." " Be very careful 'not to strain your foot ShB wrapped a light shawl around the girl's' shoulders, andaleaning on the minister arm, he Jumped to the head of -the stairs ; ut he aw, front the. wrinkle oil her forehead,, that he effort gave her pain, and, 'taking herin his arms as if she were an inl'anti he replacedear. in the chair. "I see it' will not do to carry you dwn yet. Tou are.,not strong enogn;h,and, b side, you qught to be asleep. ireite; would yot'like for me to rFeat and' pray with you before.Isav ~ood-by ? l' a " Yew, sir; it would give me great pleasure" Mrs. Young di- w the caudlehsaud auddUle~l r'om its cornerand takg scait nra the armi hir,:'Harvey turned ovet the leaves and 0 - page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 I MAdARIA. slowly read the sixty-third and sixty-fourth chapters of. Isaiah. His voice was low and sweet as a woman's, and the calm lofty brow on which the light gleamed was smooth and fair as a child's, bearing no footprints of the thirty years that had crept over it. When the reading was concluded he knelt and prayed fe-vently for the girl, who sat with her face hidden-in her arms; prayed that she might be guided by the Almighty hand into paths of peace- and usefulness ; that she might, be strengthened to do the work required of her. There was no unsteadiness in his tone, no trace of emotion, when he ended his prayer and stood up before her. Irene was deeply moved, and; when she essayed to thank him, found it impossible to pronounce her words. Tears were sliding down her cheeks ; he put back the hair, and, taking th face softly in his palms, looked long and earnestly at its fascinating beauty. The great glistening blue eyes gazed into his, and the silk y lashes and rich scarlet lips trembled. He felt the hot blood surging like a lava-tide in his veins,' and his heart rising in fierce rebellion at the stern interdict which he saw fit to lay upon it; butino token of all this came to the cool, cahn surface. ":Good-hy, Irene. May God bless you, my dear little friend 1" , ' - ' He drew the face close to his own as thought he., would have kissed her, but forbore, and merely raising her hands to his lips, turned and left the room. Verily, greater is'he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city." He left before breakfast the ensuing morning, bearing his secret with him, having given no intimation, by word or look, of the struggle which his resolution cost him. Once his mother had fancied that he felt more than a friendly interest in their guest, but' the ab- solute repose of his countenance and grave serenity of his manner during the last week of his stay dispersed all her suspicions. From a luxurious home,, fond friends, and the girlish face he loved better than his life, the minister went forth to. his distantpost, offering in sacri- fice to God, upon the altar of Duty, his throb- bing heart and hopes of earthly happiness: A cloud of sadness settled on the household after his departure, and scarcely less than Louisa's ,was Irene's silent griet. The con- finement grew doubly irksome when his voice and step 'had passed f'rdin the threshold, and she looked forward impatiently to her release.' the sprain proved more serious than she had at first imagined, and the suunier vacation set in before she was able to walk with ease.' Mr. Huntingdon'had been apprised of her long absence from school, and one day, when she was cautiously trying her strength, hC arrived', without having given premonition of his visit. As he took he? in his arms and sharked the alteration in her thin face, the listlessness of her niander, the sorrowful gravity of her countenance, his fears were fully aroused, and, holding her to his heart, Ie-exclaimed: "My Daughter! Iny Beauty I 'I must take you out of New York." "Yes, Father, take' me home ; do take me home." She clasped her arms around his neck and nestled her face close to his. "'Not yet, Queen. We will go to the Cats- kill, to Lake George, to Niagara. - A few weeks' travel will invigorate you: I have written to Hugh to meet us at Montreal; he is with a gay 'party, and you.shall have a royal time. A pretty piece of business, truly, that' you can't amuse yourself in anly other way than by breaking half the bones in your body." "Father', I would rather go home. Oh I I am so tired of this city, so sick of that board- ing-school. Do, please, let me go back with you." " Oh, nonsense, Irene. Lift up youisleeve and let me see your arm; stretch it out,,; all right, I believe ; straight enough. You were walking just now ; how is your thot ?" "Almost well, I think; occasionally I have a twinge og pain when I bear my whole weight on it7-' " Be sure you do not overtax it for a while. -By Monday you will be able to start to Sara- toga. - Your aunt sent a trunk of clothing, and, by the way, here 'is a letter fron'her and. one from Arnold. The doctor worries con- siderably about you; is afl'aid you will not be. properly attended to." Thus the summer programme was determin- ed without any reference to the wishes of"the. one most concerned, and, knowing her father's disposition, she silently acquiesced. After much persuasion, .Mr. Huntingdon prevailed on Louisa's parents to allow her to accompany them. The mother consented very reluctant- ly, and on the appointed 'day the party set off for Saratoga. .'he change was eminently beneficial, and before they reached Canada Irene seeized' perfectly restored. But her father was not satisfied. Her unwonted taci- turnity annoyed and puzzled him; he knew that beneath the calm surface some strong un- dercurrent rolled swiftly, azid he'racked his brain to discover what had rendered her so re- served. Louisa's joyous, elastic spirits proba- bly heightened the effect of' her companion's gravity, and the contrast daily presented could not fail to arrest Mr. Hunuingdon's attentive. On arriving at Montreal the girls were left for a few moments in the parlor of the ,hotel, while Mr. Huntingdon went to register their names. Irene and Louisa-stood by the window .looking out into the street, when a happy, ringing voice exclaimed:' "ere you are, at last, Ir I I caught' a glipse of your curls da you passed the dinig-. room door." She turned to meet her cousin, and held out her hand. . MACARIA. " Does your majesty suppose I shall be sat- isfied with the tips of your fingers? Pshaw, frie! I will have m'r kiss." He threw his -arm round her shoulder, 'Irew down the shielding hands, and. kissed her twice. " Oh, Hugh ! behave yourself! Miss Louisa Young,,'my -cousin, Hugh Seymour." .He bowed, and shook hands with the stran- ger, then seized his cousin's fingers and fixed .his fine eyes affectionately upon her. "'It seems an age since I saw you, Irie. Come, sit down and' let me look' at you; how stately- y'ou have, grown, to be surely More like a queen than ever; absolutely two inches taller since you entered boarding-school. Irie, I'am so glad to see you again !" .He snatched up a handful of curls and drew them across his. lips, careless of what Louisa might think. * Thank you, Hugh. I am quite as glad to see you." " Oh, humbtg ! I know better. You would rather see Paragon any day, ten to one. I will kill that dog yet, and. shoot Erebus, too; see if I don't ! then maybe you can think of somebody else. When you are glad you show t in your eyes, and now they are as still as violets under icicles. I think you might love ine a little, at least as niuch as a dog." " Hush! I do love you, but I don't choose to tell it tp everybody in Montreal."' I.1 Mr. Huntingdon's entrance. diverted the conversation,-and Irene was glad to escape to her own room.. "Your cousin seems to be very fond of you," *observed Louisa, as she unbraided her hair. " He is very impulsive and demonstrative, ,that is all." "How handsome he is !" " Do you think so, really ? Take care, Lou- isa! I will tell him, and, by way of crushing his vanity, add 'de gustibus, etc., etc., etc.' "How old is lie ?" " In his twentieth year." Fronthat time the cousins were thrown constantly together; whereverthey Went Hughl took charge of Irene, while Mr. Huntingdon .gave his attention to. Louisa., But the eagle- eye was upon his daughter's movements ; heY watched'her countenance, weighed her words,r tried to probe her heart. Week after week' t he found nothing tangible. Hugh..was gay, careless ; Irene equable, but reserved. Final- h ly they turned their faces. homeward, and in A October found themselves once more in New lI York. Mr. Huntingdon prepared to return a South and ,Hugh to sail for Europe, while f Irene remained at the hotel until the morning of her' cousin's departure ' ' e .A private parlor adjoined the room she og- oupied, and' here he camp to say farewell. She p knew that he had already had a long- conver- t eation-with her.father, and 'as' he threw -hims- self'.on the sofa gud seized one of 'her hands, F she imstmnctively shrank from him. 5p " Irene, here is my miniature. I wanted you to ask for it, but I see that you 'won't'db it. I know very well that you will not value it one-thousandth part as much as I do yopr likeness here on my watch-chain; but perhaps it will remind you of me sometimes. How ;I shall want to see you before ,I cone hdome.! You know you belong to me.. Uncle gave you to me,'and when I come back from Europe we will be married. We are both very young'I know; but it has been settled so long. Irie, my beauty, I wish 'you would love me more; you are so cold. Won't you try'?" He leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her face hastily away and answered, resolute- ly: "No, I can't love you'other than as my cousin ; I would not, if!I could. I do not think it would be right, and I;won't promise to try. Father has no right ' to give me to you, orto anybody else. 'I tell you now I belong to my- silf, and only I can give myself away. Hugh, I don't consider this settled at all. You might as well know the truth at once; I have some voice in the matter." Mr. .Huntingdon had evidently prepared bim for something of this kind on her. part, and though his face flushed angrily, he took no no- tice of the remonstrance. "I shall write to you frequently, and I hope that you will be punctual. in replying. Ire, give me your left hand just a minute; wear this ring till I come, back, to remind you that you have a cousin across the, ocean." HIe tried to force the flashing jewel on her slender finger, but she resisted, and rose, strug- gling to withdraw her hand. "No, no, Hugh!. I can't; I won't. Know very well what that ring means, and I can not accept it. Release my hand; I tell you I won't wear it." "Come, Hugh; you have not a moment to spare ; the carriage is waiting." Mr. unting- don threw open, the door, having heard"everv word that passed. Hugh dropped the ring .in his vest.pocket and rose. Well.Irie, I suppose I must bid you fare- well. Two or three years will change you, my dearest little cousin. . Good-by; think of me now and then, and learn to love me by the line I come home." She suffered him to take both her hands and kiss her tenderly, for. her. father stood there and she'"could not refuse;,but the touch of'his ips burned long after he had gone. She put' n her bonnet, and, when 'her father returned rom the steamer, they entered tie carriage which was to conveyher to thendreary, drea ' d' school. As they rolled along Broadway' Mri. Huntingden. coolly toolk her hand 'and laced Hlugh's ring upon if, saying, authorita- ively: ( Hugh' told me you refused to aceepp"hs artig gift'and seemedk~ much hurt about it. ~here is no reason why -you'should not wear page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 4 54 MACARIA. it, and in future I do not wish to see you with- chairs and sofas matched it well, and from thn out it. -Remember this, my daughter."-' broad, massive cornice over the windows- "Father, it is wrong for me to wear, it, tin- cornice representing writhing serpents in less I xpected to---" clusters of oak leaves--folds of golden-flowered "I understand the whole matter perfectly. brocatel hung stiff 'and stately to the floor. Vow, Irene, let me hear no more about it. I The ceiling rose dome-like in the centre, and wish you would learn that it is a child's duty here a' skylight poured down a flood of radi- to obey her parent. No more words, if you ance on sunny. days, and furnished a faint please, on the subject.'? ., *-tattoo when rain-drops rattled over its panes. She. felt that' this was not the hour for re. Crowded as the most ancient catacombs of sisbance, and wisely forbore ; but he saw re- Thebes was this atelier, but with a trifle less billion written in the calm, fixed eye, and read ghostly tenants. Plaster statues loomed-up in it in the curvpd' lines of the full upper lip. the corners, bronze busts and marble statuettes She had entreated him to take her home, and, crowned mantle and sundry tables and wood: only the night before, renewed her pleadings. en pedestals; quaint antique vases of china, But his refusal was positive, and now she went crystal, alabaster, terra-cotta, and wood dark back to the hated school without a visible to- as ebony with age and polished like glass, ken of regret. She saw her trunks consigned .stood here and there in a sort of well-estab- to the porter, listened to a brief conversation wished regular irregularity, as if snatched from between Dr. - I and her father, and, after the ashy shroud of Herculaneum, and put a hasty embrace and half-dozen words, watch- down hastily in the first convenient place. ed the tall, soldierly form re-enter the carriage. An Etrusean vase, time and lichen-stained, Then she went slowly up the broad stairway was made the base for an unframedl piece of to her cell-like room, and with dry eyes un- canvas, which'-leaned back against the wetn; packed her clothes, locked up the ring in her and another, whose handles were Medusa- jewelry-box, and prepared to resume, her heads, -and before which, doubtless, some studies. 'Italian maiden, in the paimy days of Rome, The starry veil concealing the Holy of Hohies bad stood twining the feathery sprays of blos- of her Futurity had swayed just once, and soms whose intoxicatinghperfume might still, as quickly swept back to its wonted folds; but linger in its marble'depths, was now.the des-' in that one swift glance slhe saw, instead of crated receptacle of 'a meerschaum and hovering Cherubim, gaunt spectres, woful, ap- riding-whip. The walls were tapestried with palling as Brimo. At some period of life all paintings of all sizes, many richly framed, one have this dim, transient, tantalizing glimpse or two covered with glass, and so dark as to of the inexorable Three, the mystic Moirm, pass, without close' examination, for a faithful weaving with steely fingers the unyielding 'representation of Pharaoh's ninth plague; .web of human destiny. Some grow cowardly, some lying helplessly on the olive background, striving o wend their way behind or beyond others leaning from the wall at an acute angle,- the out-spread net-work, tripping at last, in looking threatening, as if fiery souls had en- the midst of the snare; arid some, with set tered and stirred up the figures-among which teeth and rigid limbs, scorning to dodge the Deianira, bending forward with jealous rage issue, grapple with the Sisters, resolved to to scan the lovely lole, destined to prove the wrench the cunning links asunder, trusting Ate of her house. Where a few feet of pale solely to the palladium of Will. Irene's little green would have peered forth between la rg' feet had become entangled in the fatal threads, pictures, crayon sketches were suspended; and, with no thought of flight, she measured and'on the top of more than one carved frame the length and breadth of the web, nerving perched stuffed birds of gorgeous tropical herself' to battle till the death. - hues, a mimic aviary, motionless and silent as if Perseus had stepped in to a choral throng - and held up the Gorgon's head. In the centre CHAPTER XI. of the room, under the skylight, stood the artist's easel, holding an unfinished picture, A halo seems to.linger around the haunts aid over its face was drawn a piece of black of Genius, as though the outer physical world silk. Farther off was another easel, smaller, shaped itself in likeness to the Ideal, and at and here was the dim outline of a female the door of Mr. Clifton's studio crude, matter- head traced by the fair, slender fingers of a- of-fact utilitarians should have "put off their tyro. It was late October; a .feeble flame shoes from their feet "'beforetreading pre- flickered in the 'grate ; on the rug crouched an cinots sacred to Art. It was a long, lofty, English spaniel, creeping closer as the 'heat narrow-room, with a grate at one end aid I died out and' the waning light of day grad- -two windows at. the other, opening on the unlly receded, leaving the room dusky, save street. -The walls were stained of a pale Olive where a slanting line of yellow quivered down hue, and the floor was covered witi'-a carpet from the roof and 'ilt the folds of black silk'. of green, embroidered with orange eheaves of At one of the windows stood Electra, half- wheat. 'In .color,' the morocco-cushioned concealed by'- the heavy- green and gold dra- MACARIA. pery, one dimpled hand clinging to the cur- tains, the other pressed against the panes, as she watched the form hurrying a ong the - street below. The gas was already lighted on the crowded, highways of the *reat city, and the lamp just beneath the wine ow glared up like an electric eye. She was dressed in half-mourning, in sober gray, with a black crape collar at the throat. "There is no ex- quisite beauty without some strangeness .in the proportions," says Baron Verulam; and the strangeness ofElectra's countenance cer- tainly lay in the unusual width between the eyebrows. Whatever significance learned: phrenologists or physiognomists attach to this' peculiarity, at all events it imparted piquancy to the features that I am striving to show you by that flaming gaslight. Her watching at' titude denoted anxiety, and the bloom on her cheek had faded, leaving the whole face color- less. The lower lip was drawn under and .held hard and tight by the pearly teeth, while the wide-strained eyes- Shining eyes like antique jewels set in Parian statue- stone"-- searched every face that passed the window. "..That hope deferred maketh the heart. sick," she stood there in attestation ; yet it. was not passive sorrow-.printed on her countenance- rather the momentary, breathless exhaustion of a wild bird beating out its life in useless conflict with the unyielding wires of its cage. The dying hope, the despairing dread, in that fair young face beggars language, and as the minutes crept by the words burst from her lips: " Will he never, never come I". For three weeks she had received no letter from Russell; he was remarkably punctual, and this long, unprecedented interval filled her, at. first, -.with vague uneasiness, which grew finally into, horrible -foreboding. For ten days she had stood at this hour, at the' same window, waiting for Mr. Cliftgn's return from the post-office. - Ten times the words " No letter" had fallen, like the voice of doom, on her throbbing heart. " No letter !"-she heard it in feverish dreams, and fled continu- ally from its hissing. Only those who have known what it is to stake their hopes on a' sheet of letter-paper ; to wake at dawn, count- ing the hours, till the mail is due, working diligently to murder time .till that hour rolls round; to send a messenger, in hot haste, to watch the clock, giving him just so many minutes to go and come; to listen for the sound &f returning steps, to meet him at the door with 'outstretched hands, and receive- " rio letter;" only those who have writhed on this rack know the crushing thought with which thay pi-essed cold .hands .to aching hearts; "-anothei- twenty-four hours to be en- dured before the next mail comes in;i what shall I do till then ?" These are the trials. that plough wrinkles in smooth, girlish brons;- that harden the outline of soft rosy lips; that sicken the weary soul, and teach women dece tion. Electra knew that 'Mr. Clifton water ied her narrowly, suspiciously; an d be-. biind the mask of gay, rapid words,'and ring- ing, mirthless laughter, she tried to hide her suffering.. Ah ! God pity all who live from day to day hanging upon the brittle thread of hope On this eleventh day suspense reached its acme, and time seemed to have loeke4 its wheels to lengthen her torture., Mr.- Clifton had been absent loner than usual., Most um- wittingly we are sometimes grand inquisitors, loitering by the way wien- waiting hearts are secretly, silently dropping blood. At last an omnibus stopped, and Mr. Clifton stepped out, with a bundle of papers under his, arm. Closer pressed the pallid face against the glass; firmer grew the grasp of the icy fingers on the brocatel; she had no strength to meet him. He closed the door, hung up his hat, and looked into the studio; no fire in the grate, no light in the gas-globes-everything cold and dark save the reflection on that front window. "Electra!" "I am here." "No letter." She stood motionless a moment ; but the brick walls opposite, the trees, the lamp-posts spun 'round, like maple leaves in an autumn gale. . " My owlet ! why don'syou have a light and some' fire ?" lHe stumbled toward her, and put his band on her shoulder, but she shrank away, and, lighting the gas, rang for coal. "There is something terrible the matter ; Russell is either ill or, dead. I must go'to him." . ."Nonsense'! sheer nonsense; he is busy, that is all. Your cousin has forgotten you for the time ; after a while he will write. .You are too exacting; -young men sometimes find constant, regular correspondence a bore; a letter every week is too, much to expect of him. Don't be childish, Electra." As she noticed the frown on his face, a dark suspicion seized her: " perhaps he had inter- cepted her letters." Could he stoop to such an artifice ? " El.ectra, I would try to divert my mind. After all, his letters are short, and, I should 'judge, rather unsatisfactory." " What do you know of the length or con- tents of hi letters ?" "I know they are brief, because I occasion- ally see them open in your hand; I judge that - they are unsatisfactory from the cloud on your face whenever they: come. But I have no disposition to contest the value of his .oosres- pondence with you. That article on chiar'o- 80us-o has arrived at last ; if you feel inclined, you can begin it at once." Chiku-o-scuro, forsgathl Mockery I 'She 'had page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 50 MACARIA.A quite chiaro-scuro enough, and to spare; but the smile on the artist's lip§ stung her, and, without a word, she took a peat at his side and began to read. . Page after page was turned, tehnicalities si'pped through her lips,.but she understood as little'of the essay as if the lan- guage had been Sancrit instead of Sakon ; for, likt the deep, undying murmur of the-restless sea, -there rang in"her ears, V"No letter no, letter, I" Ag she finished the pamphlet and threw iton the table, her hands dropped list- lessly in her lap. Mr. Clifton was trying to read her countenance, and, impatient of his scrutiny, she rose to seek her own room, Just, then the doorbell rang sharply; she supposed it was some brother-artist comig to spend an hour, and turned to go. " Wait a minute; I want to---;" he paused, for at that instant she heard a voice which, even amid the din of Shinar, would have been unmistakable to her, and, breaking from him, she sprang to the threshold and met her cousin. " Oh, RussellI I thought you had forgotten me.". " What put such a ridiculous thought into your head ? My last letter must have prepared yoiu to expect me." "4What letter ? I have had none for three weeks." "One in which I mentioned Mr. Campbhll's foreign appointment, and the position of secre- tary which he tendered me. Electra, let me speak to Mr. Clifton." As he advanced and greeted the artist she heard a quick, snapping sound, and saw the beautiful "Bohemian glass paper-cutter her guardian had been using lying, shivered to atoms, on the rug. The fluted handle was crushed in his fingers, and drops of blood oozed over the left hand. Ere she could allude to it he thrust his hand into his pocket and desired Russell to be seated.V " This is a pleasure 'totally unexpected. What is the appointment of 'which you spoke?" '-..- " Mr. Campbell has been appointed Minister to - , and sails next week. I am sur- prised that'you have not heard of it from the public journals; many of them have spoken of it, and warmly commended the selection. I accompany him in the capacity of secretary, and shall, meanwhile, prosecute my studies under his direction." The gray, glittering eyes of the artist sought those of his pupil, and for an instant hers quailed ; but, rallying, she looked fully, stead- fastly at him, resolved to play out the game, scorning to bare her heart to his scrutiny. She had fancied that Russell's affection had prompted this visic; now it was apparent that he came to New York to 'take a; steamer, not to see her ; to put the 'stormy Atlantic between them. The foaming draught which she 'had snatched to her lips so eagerly, so joyfully, was turning to hemIeck as she ~tasted ; and though she silently put the cup from her, it was done smilingly ; -there were no wry faces, no gestures of disgust. " New York certainly agrees with you, Elec-' tra; you have grown and improved very much since you came North. I never saw such color in your cheeks before; Ican scarcely believe ' that you are the same -fragile child I put into the stage one year ago. This reconciles me to, having, given you up to Mr. Clifton ; he is 'a better 'guardian than I could have been. But tell me something more about these new rela- tives you spoke of having found here.." Mr.- Clifton left the. room, and the two sat side by side for an hour, talking of the gloomy past, the flitting present, the uncertain future. Leaning back in his chair, with his eyes fixed' on the grate, Russell said, gravely: "There is now nothing to impede my sue- cessful career ; obstacles are rapidly melting away; every day brings me nearer the goal I long since set before me. In two years at farthest, perhaps earlier, I shall- return and. b egin the practice of law. Once admitted, I ask no more. Then, and not till then, I hope to save you from the necessity of labor; in the interim, Mr. Clifton will prove a noble and generous friend ; and believe me, my cousin, the thought .of leaving you so long is the only thing which will mar the pleasure of my Eu-' ropean sojourn." The-words were kind enough, but the tone was indifferent, and' the countenance showed her that their approaching separation disqui- eted him little. She thought of the sleepless nights and wretched days ehe had passed waiting for a letter from that tall, reserved,. cold cousin,.and her features relaxed in a de- risive smile at the'folly of her all-absorbing love. Raising his eyes accidentally he caught the smile, wondered what there was to call it forth in the plans-which he had just laid before her, and, meeting his glance of surprise, she, said, carelessly : " Are you not going'to see Irene before you sail T" His cheek flushed as he rose, straightened himself, and answered': "A strange question, truly, from one who knows me as well as you do. Call to see a girl whose father sent her from-home solely to prevent her from associating with my family ? Through what sort of metamorphosis do you .suppose that I have passed, that every spark of self-respect has been crushed out of me " Her father's tyranny and selfishness can never nullify her noble and affectionate remem- brance of Aunt Amy in'the hour of her need". "And when I am able' to repay her every cent we owe her, then, and not till then, I wish to see her. Things shall change ; mens ,. cujusque is est quisque; and the day will come when Mr. (Iuntingdon may not think it de- grading for',his daughter to acknowledge my acquaintance on the street." A brief silence ensued, Russell drew on his gloves, and' finally said, hesitatingly: " Dr.' Arnold told me she had suffered very much from a fall." " Yes ; for a long time she was confined to her room." " Has she recovered entirely ?". "Entirely. She grows more beautiful day by day.", Perhaps he wished to hearmore concerning her, but she would not gratify, him, and, soon after, he took up his hat.' " Mr. Cliftonhas a spare room, Russell; why can't you stay with us while you are in New. York ?" "Thank you; but Mr. Campbell will expect me at the hotel; I shall be needed, too, as he has many letters to write, I will see you to- morrow, and indeed every day while I remain iN the city." " Then pay your visits in the morning, for I want to take your portrait with my own hands. Give me a sitting as early as possible." "Very well; look for me to-morrow. Good- night."' The week that followed was one of strange- ly-mingled sorrows and joys ;'in after years it served as a prominent landmark to which she looked back and' dated sad changes in her heart. Irene remained ignorant of Russell's presence in the city, and at last the day dawned on which the vessel was to sail, At the breakfast-table Mr. Clifton noticed the colkelessness of his pupil's face, but kindly ab-. stained from any allusion to it. He saw that, contrary to habit,.she drank a cup of coffee, and, arresting her arm as -she requested his mother to give her a second, he said gently: " My dear child, where did you suddenly find such Turkish tastes? I thought you dis- liked coffee ?" "I take it now as medicine. My head aches horribly." "Then let me prescribe for you. We will go down to the steamer with Russell, and after- ward take a long ride ,to, Greenwood, if you like." re.o. i " He said he would call here at ten o'clock to bid us farewell." "N'impo'te. ' The carriage will be ready, and we will accompany him." ' At the appointed hour they repaired to the vessel, and, looking at its huge sides, Electra coveted even a deck passage; envied the1 meanest who hurried about, making all things ready for departure. The last dell rang ; people. crowded down on the planks ;~Russell1 hastened back to the carriage and took the nerveless gloved hand. " I will write as early as possible ; don't be-l uneasy about me ; no accident has ever hap- pened on this line. I am glad I leave you with such a friend as Mir. Clifton. Good-by, Cousin;.it will not be very long before we meet amn." He kissed the passive lips, shook hands with the artist, and sprang on aboard' just as the planks were withdrawn. The vessel moved majestically on its way; friends on'slore waged handkerchiefs to friends departing, and hands were kissed: and hats lifted, 'and then'the erowd'slowly dispersed,--for steamers'sa il eve y week, and people become accustomed t tfhe spectacle. .But to-day lit was freighted wjh the last fond hope of a deep and passionate nature; and as Electra gazed on the line'of' foam whitening the dull surface-of the water, the short-lived billows and deep hollows be- tween seemed newly-made graves, whose han- gry jaws had closed=for ever over the one bright lingering hope which' she had hugged to her heart. "Are you ready to go now ?" asked Mr. Clifton. " Yes, ready, q rite ready-for Greenwood." She spoke in a tone which had lost its liquid music, and with a wintry smile that fled over the ashy face,'lending the features no light, no, warmth. He tried to divert her mind by calling at- tention 'to various things of interest, but the utter exhaustion of her position and the mono- syllabic character of .her replies soon dis- -couraged him. Both felt relieved when the carriage stopped before' the studio, and as he led her up the steps he said, affectionately: "I am afraid my prescription has not 'ured your head." "No, sir; but I thank. you most. sincerely for the kind effort you have made to relieve m'e. I shall-'be better to-morrow. e Good-by till then." " Stay, my child. Come into-the studio, and let., me read something light, and pleasant to you." "Not for the universe ! 'The sight of a book would give me brain-fever, I verily believe." She tried unavailingly to shake off his hand. " Why do, you shrink from me, my pupil ?" "Because I am sick, weary) and you-watch' me so, that I get restless and nervous. Do let me go ! I want to sleep." An impatient stamp emphasized the words, and, as he relaxed his clasp of her fingerp, she hastened to her room, and locked the door to prevent all intrusion.- Taking oftl ber bonnet she drew the heavy shawl closely around her shoulders and threw herself a ross the foot of the bed, burying her .facei her hands lest the bare walls should prove -witnesses of her agony . Six hours later she Alay there still, with pale fingers pressed to burning, dry eye- lids. Oh, bigotry of' human nature ! By what high, commission," by what royal patent, -do men and women essay to judge of fellow-men and sister-women by one stern inexorable standard, unyielding as the mneasmte 'of Da- mastes ? -'-The variety lof emiotignal and intel- ectual types is even grater than the physical, ;CARIA. 3 7 page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] (. MACARIA. and, as the ages roll, we need -other criteria.. Who shall dare lay finger on fellow-creature andaudaciously proclaim: "I have gone down asiong the volcanic chambers of this soul and -gped in its adytum, amid the dust,and ruins of its overturned altars and crumbling idols; lave fathomed its mysteries, and will tell'you, icy infallibleplunimet, the depths thereof." There are sealed cells, where,. veiled from scrutinyand sacred as Eleusinia, burns the God-given shechinah of the human soul. As the myriad shells that -tessellate old ocean's pavements, as the vast army of innumerable clouds which ceaselessly .shift their coloring and their forms at the' presto qf wizard-winds: as the leaves of the forest that bud, and wane in the flush of summer or the howl of wintry storms, so we differ one from another. Lin- naus and Jussien, with microscopic aid, have classified and christened; but now and then new varieties startle modern savans, and so likewise new types stalk among men and women, whose elements will neither be lopped off nor elongated to meet the established measure. CHAPTER XII. Once more the labors of a twelvemonth had been. exhibited at'the Academy of Design -some to be classed among things "that were not born to die ;" others to fall into nameless graves. Many, who had worked faithfully, rec- ognizing the sacredness of their commission, had climbed higher in public estimation ; and a few, making mere pastime, or resting upon reputation already earned, had slipped back. Mr. Clifton ivas represented by an exquisite None, and on the same wall, in a massive oval frame, hung the first finished production of his pupil. For months after Russell's de- parture sh sat before her easel, slowly filling ap'the outline sketched' while his eyes watched her. She lingered over her work, loath to put the finalstroke, calling continually upon Memory'to furnish the necessary details; and frequen , in recalling transient smiles, the' curl of 1is lip or bending of his brow; palette and brut would slip from her fingers, while she sat -eaving the broken yet priceless threads of a hallowed Past. Application some- times-trenqhes so closely upon genius as to be mistaken f r it in its results, and where both are happily blended the bud of Art expands in immortal. perfection. Electra spared no toil, and it came to pass that the faultless head of her idol' excited intense and universal admiration. In the catalogue it was briefly mentioned as No. 17-a portrait; first effort of a young female artist." Connoisseurs, who had committed themselves by extravagant praise, sneered at the announcement of the catalogue, and, after a few inquiries, 'blandly MACARIA. asserted that no tyro could have produced it; that thesmasterhad wrought oitits perfection, and generously allowed the pupil to monopo. bze the encomiums. In vain Mr. Clifton dis.' claimed the merit, and asserted that he had never touched the canvas; that she had'jeal- ously refused-to let him aid her. Incredulous smiles and unmistakable motions of the.head were the sole results of his expostulation. Little nercy has a critical world for novices, particularly those clad in woman's garments; few helping hands are kindly stretched toward her trembling fingers, few strengthening words find her in her seclusion; and when these last do come in friendly whispers, are they not hung up "as apples of gold in pictures of sil- ver " along the chequered walls 'of memory'? Cold glances ,generally greet her earliest works; they are handled suspiciously, the beauties are all extracted, set in a row, and labelled "plagiarisms-;" the residue, like dross in crucibles, is handed back as "original, and her_ undoubted property." Or, per- chance, . the phraseology varies, and she hears " This book, this statue, this picture, is no unpractised woman's work ; .we speak advisedly, and pronounce the fact that pen, or rasp, or chisel, or brush, belongs unmis- takably to a master-an experienced writer or veteran artist." It is. this bent of hu- man nature to load with chaplets well-estab- lished. favorites of fame, to "whitewash" continually with praise, to jealously withhold the meed of beginners, rendering .ruidgingly " Casar's things to Casar," which 'tips uaany a pen with gall, and shadows noble pictures with unseemly clouds. Electra was indignant at the injustice meted out to her, and, as might have been expected, rebelled against the verdict. Very little consolation was de- rived from the argument by which her master strove to mollify her-that the incredulity of the critics was the highest eulogy that could have been pronounced upon her work. Some weeks after the close of. the' exhibition the iEnone was purchased and the portrait sent home.. Electra placed it on the easel once more,'and stood before it in rapt contempla- tion. Down from- the arched roof flowed bil- lows of, light, bathing her rounded form as in a sea of molten topaz, and kindling a start- ling, almost unearthly, beauty in the canvas' What mattered the brevity and paucity of Russell's letters now ?-what though Three thousand miles of tempestuoussea roared and tossed between them ?-she.had his untarhish- ed image in her heart, his life-like features ever before her. To this shrine she came continually, and laid thereon the offering of a. love passionate and worshipping as ever took entire possession of a woman's heart. Cold- ness, silence, neglect, all were forgotten when she looked into the deep, beautiful eyes, apil upon the broad, bold, matchless brow'. . . Love is notlove . which alters, when it alteration finds, Or bends with the reinover to renove, Oh. no? it is an ever-fixed mark, -That looks on tempests and is never shaken." She had not the faintest hope that he would ever cherish a tenderer feeling for her ; but love is a plant of strange growth: now lifting its head feebly in rich, sunny'spots, where every fostering influence is employed ; and now springing vigorous from barren, rocky cliffs, clinging in icy crevices, defying every adverse element, sending its fibrous roots deeper and deeper in us genial soil; bending before the fie'ce, breath of storms, only to erect itself more firmly ; spreading its delicate petals over the edges of eternal snow, self-sus- taning, invincible, immortal. A curious plant truly,.and one which will not bear transplant- ing, as many a-luckless experiment 'has proved. To-day, as Electra looked upon her labors, the coils'of Time seemed to fall away; the vista of Eternity opened before 'her, peopled with two forms, which on earth walked widely sepa- rate -paths, and over her features stole a serene,' lifted expression, as if, after painful scaling, she had risen above the cloud-region 'and caught the first rays of perpetual sunshine. Tiie, like a weaver, made strange, dim, confused masses . of woof and warf; but in Eternity the eirthwork would be turned, and delicate tracery and marvellous coloring, di-' vine gobelins, would come to light. Patience ! Away from the loom-let the shuttle 'fly ! " What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." Hence to thy,barren field's, and till them until the harvest. Mr. Clifton had watched her for some.mo- ments, with lowering brow and jealous {hatred of the picture. Approaching, he looked over her shoulder and asked:. " How much longer do you intend to stand. here ? Pygmalion was not more captivated by his ivory image than you are-by your head. Were it Antinous or Apollo, I doubt whether, your admiration would be enhanced." "It is more than.Antinous and Apollo," she answered, drawing the folds of silk over the portrait and turning toward him. " Child, you are an idolatress." "Perhaps so; but, at least, I am in a goodly company. Many bow down before shrines of their own hlindiwork ; some bring libations to Mammon, some to Fame, some to Ambition, some to Love. Nature intended us to kneel, which- is preferable to standing, statue-like,. exacting obeisance. from others. Which is' nobler ? But how am I an idolatress? Shall' 1 not prize the features of my cousin, my, ear- liest friend and playmate.? Would you have mue tear off and cast away the-kindly emotions, the warm affectiguhs wherewith God clothed me, as badges of humanity ?" " By no means. But would you have a secoiid Ixion's wheel ?" . " Aye;-sir, when I am weak enough to wor- :59 ship a. cloud. Mr. Clifton, I believe I, have shaken hands with my' rosy-cheelied, sunny- eyed, siren-charmed childhood ; -atid, to-day, standing here a woman, with few tics to bind me to my fellow-creatures, I boll this one jewelled link of the past in the hollow of my hand, and pet it. Why not ? Oh, -why not.? I am but. seventeen ;~this is all that 7 have left to caress, and soon the waves of dom- ing years 'will wash this, too4 thi'ough imy fingers. Would you, less merciful than time, snatch it from me prematurely ?" "I would, that in exchange I might heap your hands with untold treasure and joy." " I think I am less grasping, then,. than you. Leave me the little I value'; I ask no more, wish no more, will have no more." She would shave left him, but his hand fell heavily on hers. "Electra, I must speak to you; hear me. You bug a phantom to your heart; 'Russell does pot and will not love you, other 'than as his cousin." The blood deserted her face, leaving a grag- ish pallor, but the eyes sought his steadily, and the rippling voice lost none of its rich ca- dence. " Except as his cousin, I do not expect Rus- sell to love me." " Oh, child! you deceive yourself; this is a hope that-youeling to with,mad tenacity." She wrung her hand from his, and drew her figure to its utmost height. "You' transcend your privilege, sir, when you attempt to catechise me thus. I deny'the right of any on earth to put such:questions to me-to'make such assertions." " Electra, I did not mean to offend you, but the time has come when we iust understand each dther - ' - ." " You did not mean to offend me-'well, let that pass; another day we will discuss it, 'if you please," she interrupted,'waving him off and turning toward the door. "No; you must hear me now. I have a right to question you--the right of my long, silent, faithful love. You may deny 'it, but that matters little ; be still, and listen. Did you suppose that I was'simply a generous man, -' when-I offered to guard and aid you-when I took you to my house, placed you in my moth- er's care, and lavished affection upon you? Did you dream that I was disinterested in what I 'have done to encourageand assist you,? Did you imagine I was merely an, amiable philanthropist, anxious to help all in difficulty and sorrow? 'If' so, 'put', away the hallucina- tion. Consider me no longer your friend ; look at me as I am, a jealous and selfishly ex- actinrg man, who stands before you to'dy and tells you he loves you.' Oh, Electra! From the morning when you first showed me your sketches, yosthave'beeh more than my life to me. -An uncomnerable love sprang up then, and it has grown with the months and yea.,. page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] MACARIA. 61 taking sole possession of a heart which never bowed before any other woman. Every hope I'ave centres in you. I have not deceived myself; I knew that you loved Russell. Nay, don't deny it; I have watched you too long not to robe your mask. I knew that he had .your grish love but I waited, and hoped my de- votio would win you. You were but a child, and I thought the depth and fervor of my affection would out-weigh a childish fancy. When he came here, I saw that the old fasci- nation still -kept its hold upon you ;' but I saw, too, what you saw quite as plainly-that in Russell Aubrey's heart there is-room for noth- in but ambition. I knew how you suffered, and .I believed it was the death-struggle of your love. But instead, I find you, day by day, before that easel-oblivious of me, of everything but the features you cling to so insanely. Do you wonder that I hate that portrait? Do you wonder that I am growing- desperate ? Where is your womanly pride, that you lavish your love on one totallyindif- ffrent to you? Strange paradox that you arel--proud, passionate, exacting, and yet clinging madly to a memory. Have you no - mercy, that you (loom me to, live for ever on the rack.? Shall yonder piece of canvas al- ways stand between your heart and mine ? If heloved you in return, I could bear it better'; but as it is, Iain torturso4 beyJnd all endurance. I have: spent nearly three years. in trying to gain your heart ; all other aims have faded be- fore this one absorbing love. To-day I lay it at 'your feet, and asf if I have not earned some reward. Oh, Electra! have you no gratitude ?" A scarlet spot burned on his pale cheeks, and the mild liquid gray eyes sparkled like stars; It was no startling revelation to her ; long before she had'seen that this hour of trial must come to both, ,and now, despite her resolution, his words unnerved her. She dared not look atihim ; the hollow voice told her too well what effect thisexcitement was working on his feeble frame. "Oh,'Mr. Clifton ! Iam grateful; God, who sees my 'heart, knows that I am. No child ever.loved a parent better than I love you." "It is not filial affection that I ask of you now. I beg you to lay your dear -hands in mine,andepromise to be my wife.a hask this yof'ybu in the name of my devoti You gave yourself to me years ago, and t -d y I beseech you to seal the compact by a nal Vromise. Electra, beware how you answer ! Bridge the' lf between us. Give me your hand." He stretched out his hand, .but she drew back a step. " God forgive mel! but I have no such love. for yu." - '.- A ghastly smile -broke over his face and, .after a moment, 'the- snowy handkerchief'he passed across his lips was stained with ruby streaks. "I know that, and I know the reason. But, once more 1' ask you 'to give me your hand. 'Electra, dearest, do not, I pray you, refuse me this.' Oh, child! give me your hand, and in time you will learn to love me." He seized her fingers, and stooped his head till the silky brown' beard mingled with her raven locks. "Mr. Clifton,.to marry without love would be a grievous sin; I dare not., We would hate eaoh 'other. Life would be a curse to both, and death a welcome release. Could you endure a wife who accepted your hand' from gratitude and pity? Oh ! such a'relationship would be horrible'beyond all degree. I shud- der at the thought." " But you would learn to love me." The summer wind shook 'the window-cur- tains and rustled the folds of black silk till the drapery slid from the portrait and leftit fully exposed to view. . She gave one quick glance at the beloved countenance, and, fall- ing on her knees before the easel, raised her clasped hands passionately, and exclaimed: "Impossible! impossible'! You have said that he is my idol, and you make no mistake. He fills my heart so entirely, that I have nothing 'but reverence' and gratitude to offer you. I am young, I know, and you think that this is a girlish fancy which will fade witly com- ing years. I tell you, sir, this love has become part of me. When he went to Europe I said,- ' I will tear it out of 'my heart, and forget him; I will give every thought to my noble Art.' Faithfully I strove to do so ; but a little moun tain-stream once merged in the pathless ocear, might as well struggle to gather back-its tiny wavelets and return to its pebbly channel. I am proud ; it humiliates 'nie to acknowledge all this; and nothing on earth could wring ,it from me but my desire to convince you that 'it is utterly impossible I can ever love you as you ask. '-1 lift my heavy heart up solemnly, As on e lectra her sepulchral un, And: looking in thine eyes, I overturn' The ashes at thy feet. Behold, and see what a great heap of grief, lay hid in me, And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn Through the ashen grayness. If thy fout in scorn could tread them out to darkness utterly, -It miaht be well, perhaps." But you can not take Russell's' place. None can come between him and my heart." The yellow light dripped down on her purplish hair, crystalizing -into a nimbus, as she knelt before the portrait, lifting her hands, like saints.in medieval pictures, fleeing from, martyrdom. Shame dyed. her cheeks, but' desperate, reckless triumph flashed in the 'up- raised eyes, revealingo' fully the aversioni which 'his suit 'had inspireY.'- Unfortunate, deplora- ble as was her love for a cousin, it seemed' for the momnt to glorify her, and 'Mr.' Clif- ton piut his hand over his eyes to shut out the vision. ., "Electra Grey, you are unwomanly in your unsought love." She turned her head, and, looking over her shoulder at him, smiled derisively. " Unwomanly ! If so, made such by your unmanliness. Unwomanly I I deny it. Which is most womanly-to yield, to the merciless importunity of one"to whom I am -indebted ; to give my hand to him whose touch chills the blood in my veins ; to promise to become -his wife when the bare thought sickens my soul ; to dare to stand before God's. altar and take false vows on my 'lips, or to 'tell the simple truth ? to shield myself from his' entreaties, under the holy mantle-of a deep,-undying love for another ? I volunteered no confession; you taxed and taunted me with my affection. Sir,, .it should have made me sacred in your eyes. Unwomanly 1 Were you more -manly, I had never shocked your. maudlin sentiments of propriety." "And this is my reward for all the tender- ness I have lavished on you! Wlien I stooped to beg your hand, to be repulsed with scorn and loathing. To spend three years in faith-j ful effort to. win . your heart, and reap - contempt, hatred." - Staggering back, he sank into his arm-chair, and closed his eyes a montent, then continued: '4 If it were possible' that-you could be hap- py, I would not complain ; but there is no nope of that. You ought as 'well kneel to my marble Hermes yonder anto Russell. Stranger int'atuation never possessed a woman." " I am not blind; I neither ask nor expect anything from him. Unless you betray my, confidence he will never suspect the truth, and bIwould sooner endure the tortures of Torquemada; than that he should know it. But by what process will you demonstrate that,'since a rare and royal banquet is for ever shut beyond my reach, it is my duty to sit down in the dust and try to content anyself with husks? Sir,mny God never intended me to live on' crumbs, and 'I will not. 'I will be true to my heart; if the vast host of i'ny fel- low-creatures should pass away from earth, I will stand alone and conquer solitude as best' I may. Not 'one jot, nut one tittle' of my 'nature will I yield for companionship. No mess of pottage will I have, in lieu of my birthright. All or mone ! Marriage is holy ; God, in his wisdom, institutedit with the seal of' love ; ' but its desecration with counterfeits makes Tophets, Golgothas instead of Edens. I know wuat I have to expect ; on my own head be my future. If quarrel there be, it is between Fate and me ; you have no oncern in it." '"I would not have troubled you long, Elec- tra. it ivas because 1 knew that my life must teshort at best that I urged you to gild the brief period with tike 'light of your love. 'I would not have bound you always'to ne ; and, when I asked your hand a few minutes sine, I knew that death would soon sever the tie and, set you free.' Let this sufficesto, palliate my 'unmanly' pleading. I have but.one request, to make of you now, and, weak a itiay see,. d beg of you not, to deny 'me. 'on, are pre- paring to leave my house ; this .I know.; 1 see it in your face, and the thought is harrowing to me. Electra, remain under my roof while :I live; 'let me see you every day, here, in 'my hMuse.' It' not ;as my wife, stay as my friend, my pupil, my child. I little thought I coild ever condescend to ask, this of any one; but the dread of separation bows me down. Oh, child ! I will not clain you long." She stood up before him with the portrait in her arms, resolved, then and there, to leave him for ever. But the ghastly pallor of his face, the scarlet thread oozimg over his lips and saturating the handkerchief with which he strove 'to staunch it, told her that the re- quest was preferred on -no idle 'pretext. -In swift review, his kindness, generosity and un-' wavering affection passed before her, and the mingled accents ;o1 remorse and compassion whispered: 'Pay your debt of gratitude by sacrificing ydur heart. If you cad make him happy, you owe it to him." Without a word she 'passed him and went up to her own room. It was an hour of sore temptation for one so young and inexperienced; but, placing the portrait on 'the low mantle, she crossed her arms before it and tried to lay matters in the scale. On one side, years 'of devotion, the circumstances of tif artist's life, his mother's infirmity, confining her sometimes to her bed, often to her room, preventing her from nursing him; the weary season, of' his tedious illness, the last hours gloomy and mis- erable, unsoothed by gentle words or tender offices: On the other, stern adherence, un- errimg obedience to- the dictates of her heart, the necessary self-abnegation, the patient' 'at.. tendance at the couch ot prolonged suffering, and entire devotion to him. For a time the scales balanced ; she could not conquer her re-" pugnance to, remaining in his home; theoi a grave and its monumental stone were added, and, with a groan, she dropped her face'in het hanils. At the expiration of' two hours she. locked the.portraitfrom view, and went-slew- ly back to 'the studio. ,The house was' very quiet; the ticking of the clock was distinctly heard as she pushed the door open and glided in. Involuntarily she drew a long, 'deep breath, for it was like leaving freedom at.the threshold and taking upon herself grieeua bonds. The arm-chair-was vacant, but the artist lay on one .of the sofas, with his fpe toward the wall, and on asmall table beside hy' stood a crystal bowl ofcracked ice, a atiod wine-glass,. and 'vial contaittizg 'somne, dhr purpleliquid. 'Approaching soltly,'she se n- ned- the countenance, and ;tears 'gatlherd 'n her eyes as she~ saw how thin and 'hollow were the now' flushed oheoks ; how the lips *mit I,~ MACA A 60 page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] MACAIA. 63 now and then, as if striving to suppress bitter. words.' The beautiful brown hair was all tossed; back, and she noticed that along 'the fQrehead clustered many silver threads. One hand was 'thrust within his.vest, the other, thrown .up over .the head, grasping a fresh handkerchief.; Softly she took this hand, and, bending over him, said, sin a low, thrilling tone: - A Mr. Clifton, I was passionate and 'hasty, an4 said some unkind things which I would fain recall, and 'for which I beg your pardon. I thank you for the honor you would have conferred on me,'and for the unmerited love you offered me. Unless it were jn my power to return that love, it would be sinful to give you my hand ; but, since you desire it so earnestly, 1. iill promise to stay by your side, to do what 1 can to make you happy; to prove, by my de- ''votion, that I amr not insensible to all your kindness, that I am very grateful for the affiec- tion you have given me. I come and offer you this, as a poor return for all that I owe you; it is the most my conscience will permit me to tender. My friend, my master, will you accept it, and forgive the pain and sorrow I have caused you ?" He felt her tears falling'on his fingers, and, for a mlonmwnt, neither spoke ; then lie drew the bands to his lips and kissed them tenderly. "«Thank you, Electra. I 'know it is a sac- rifice on your part, but I am selfish enough to accept it. Ileaveni bless you, my pupil." " i future we will not allude t) this day of; trial-let it be forgotton; *let the dead past bury its dead.' I will have no resurrected. phantoms. Awl now, sir, you must not allow this slight' heimorrhage to depress you. In a few days you will be stronger, quite able to examine' andu find fault with my work. .Shall 1 send a note to Dr. LeRoy, asking him to call and see you this evening ?" "6He has jqat. left me. Say nothing of the hemorrhage to mother ; it would only distress -her." He released her hands, and, stooping over his illow, she smoothed the disordered hair, and for the first time pressed her lips to his forehead. Thus she bowed her neck to the yoke, and, with a fixed, unalterable will, entered on the' long, dreary ministry to which she felt that duttycalled- We shade our eyes, and peer into the dim known, striving to see whither we are tend- ingand a 'sudden turn in the way, a sharp anile, brings us face to face with huge, frown- ing obstacles, that grimly bar- all progress in the direction to which our'inclinations point. Strange devious paths stretch' out at our 'feet, baffling all our niise conjectures, setting at de- -fiance all'outr plans and prudential miachin&g- tions. .From breath to breath, from step to step, from -hour to houi-, is man's sole empire,. "NOast not thyself of tomorroww" CHAPTER XIII. " Cities give not the human senses. room enough," says a latter-day seer, and Electra Grey sometimes felt-that. heroheart and soul were in the-stocks, or ironed down to a stake, leaving only a periphery of a few feet. Brick walls and paving-stones uttered no kindly message; hurrying loot-passengers and crowd- ed omnibuses told.of the din and strife of life, but whispered no word of cheer, no lesson of uncomplaining fortitude, no exhortation to be strong and patient. She aiw colossal Selfish- ness crushing along its Jaggernautic .way; Wealth jostled Poverty into the gutter, and Beauty picked a dainty crossing to give a wide berth to Deformity ; hard, stern, granite-like faces passed her window day by day; princely.. ,equipages, with haughty, supereihousios ecu- pants, rolled along the street, and bridal trains and funeral processions mingled in their wimd- ings. If man be, indeed, a ."nicrocosm," 'to what shall I liken that .great city wherein dwelt, the painter and his pupil ? Isis, the great nursing-mother-genial Nature, teeming with soothing influences, and missals of' joy and strength, seemed sepulchred-and in her place, a flint-featured, miserly, and most in- tolerable step-mother frowned upon the luck- less young artist. Citylife ! City starvation, rather, she found it, until a long and painful. apprenticeship taught her the priceless alche- my whereby smiling Plenty beamed upon her. Reared on the outskirts ofla cointry-town, she longed for the freedom and solitude of the old pine-woods at home, and, sickened at the thought of spending her life within walls of brick and mortar. .She had selected an attic room; with dormer windows looking eastward, and here she daily watched the pale gray' dawn struggle with the vapors and shadows of night. " Quiet fields of crimson cirri," fleecy masses. of restless, glittering cumuli, or the, sweep and ruslh of "inky-tringed," lowering rain-clouds, alike charmed her. Long before the servants stirred below she was seated at the window, noting the waning. shimmer, of the Morning-Star as the waves of light rolled up and crested the horizon, whitening the deep dark blue with their sparkling spray.' The peculiarities- of each sunrise and sunset were jotted down assiduously :. "Cloud-waits ofrthe morning's'gray - ' Faced with amber coluimit, Crowned witli crinisn cupola From a sunset solemn,"'- were-sketche'd with great ere, and put aside for future use; and it rarely happened that, on a dull, rainy morning, she came down to break- fast looking other than moody and disappoint- ed, as though her. rights had been infringed, her priyileges curtailed. Constituted with keen susceptibility to impressionis of beauty or sublimity, whether physical, moral, or intellec- tual, Nature intended her as a thing for sun- shine and holidays, as a darlg to be petted; but Fate shook her head, and, with a grimace, set the tender young,soul'on a bleak exposure,: to be hardened and invigorated. With the 'characteristic fitfulness of con- sumption,-Mr. Clifton rallied, and, for a time, seemed almost restored; but at the approach of Winter the cough increased, and dangerous symptoms returned. Several months after the rejection of his suit, to which no allusion had ever been made, Electra sat before tier easel, absorbed in work,' while the master slowly walked up and down the studio, wrapped in a warm plaid shawl. Occasionally he paused and looked over her shoulder, then resumed his pace, offering no comment. It was not an unusual occurrence for them to pass entire mornings together without exchanging a word, and to-day the silence had lasted more than an hour. A prolonged fit of coughing finally arrested her attention, and, glancing up, she met his sad gaze. "This- is unpropitious weather for you, Mr. Clifton." "Yes, this winter offers a dreary prospect." "There is the doctor now, passing the win- dow. I will come back as soon as his visit is over." She rose hastily to quit the room, but he detained her. " Do not go-I wish you to remain and fin- ish your work." ' Dr. LeRoy entered, and, after questioning his patient, stood on the rug, warming his , fingers.' The fact is,my dear fellow, this is not the' place for you. I sent.you South four yearsI ago nearly, and saved yot ' life;i and, as I toldI you last- week, you will have to take that'sameI prescription again. It is folly to talk of spend-l ang the winter here. I can do nothing fort you. You must go to Cuba or toItaly. It is, of no use to try to deceive you, Harry ; you know, just as well as I do,'that your case is get- ting desperate, and change of climate is your last hope. I have told you all this before." Electra laid down her pallette, and listened for the answer... " I am sorry you'think so, but I can't leave t New -York." ' " Why not ?" "For various good reasons." " My dear fllow, is your life of any value ?"e "Astrange question,'truly." ' "If it is, quit New York in thirty-six hours; if . not, remain, 'for various good reasons.'a Send to- my office for an anodyne. Better take myadvice. Good-day." s Passing by the easel, he 'whispered: "Use) our influence; send him South." .And' then the two were again alhne. s .Resting-her chin in her hands, she raised her eyes and said: l " Why do you not follow the doctor's' ad- I vice ? A winterr South might restore you." . He drew near, ands leaning his-folded-arms on the top of the easel, looked down into 'her face. " There is only one condition upon'whieh I could consent to go; that' is in' your hands. Will yon-accompany me ?" She understood it all in an instant, saw the new form in which the trial presented itself; and her soul sickened. "Mr. Clifton, if I were your sister, or your child, I would gladly go; but, as your pupil, I can not." "As Electra Grey, certainly' not; but, as Electra Clifton, you could go." "Electra Grey will be carved on my tomb- stone." "Then yon decide my fate. I remain, and .wait the slow approach of death." " No, before just Heaven! I take no such responsibility, nor shall -you thrust it on' me. You are a man, and must decide your destiny for yourself; I'am a poor girl, having no claim upon, no power over you. It is your duty to preserve the- life which God gave you, in the way prescribed by your.physician, and I have no voice in the matter.'It is your duty to go South, and it will be both weak and wicked to remain here under existing circumstances." "My lfe is centred in you; it is worthless, nay, a burden, separated from you. "Your life 'should be centred in something nobler, better ; in your duty, in your profes- sion, It is suicidal.to fold your hands listless- ly and look to me, as you do." "All these things have I tried, and I am weary of their hollowness, weary of life and the world. So long as I have your face here, I care not to cross my own threshold till friend-. ly hands bear me out to my quiet resting- lplace under the willows of Greeiwood. Elec- tra, my darling, think me weak if you will;but bear with me a little while longer, and then this, my shadow, shall flit from your, young heart, leaving not even a memory to.haunt you. Be patient ! I will soon pass away, to another, a more peaceful, blessed sphere." A melancholy suile lighted his fair waxen features, as waning, sickly sunshine 'in'an au tumn evening flickers over sculptured marble n a silent chuch-yard.'" How she compassionated his great weak- ness as he' wiped away the , moisture which,' even' on that cold, day, glistened on his 'fore- head. Oh ! I beseech you to go to Cuba. Go, and get strong once more." "Nothing will ever help me now. Sunny kies andt soft breezes bring.;tlo. healing foi ne. I want.to die here, in my home, wherm yopr hands will be about me.; not among'. trangers; in Cuba or Italy." He turned to the fire, and1 pringing upyuhe eft the, room. The solemn silence of the mouse oppressed her ; she put on hler ,thicest wappings, and took' the street leading. to-he' nearest park. '' steel-gray sky, with' slowly- t 6 MALARIA. . i page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] MACARIA. - 65 MACARIA. trailing clouds, looked down on her, and the keen, chilly wind- wafted a fine snow-powder in her face as-she pressed against it. The trees were bare, and the sere grass grew hoary -as the. first snow,-flakes of the season came down softly and shroud-like. The walks were deserted, save where a hurrying form crossed from street to 'street, homeward-bound ; and Electra, passed slowly along, absorbed in thoughts solder than the frosting that gath- ered on shawl and bonnet.. The thee and figure of the painter-glided spectrally before her at every step, and a mighty teinptation follow- ed at its hecls. Wjiy not strangle her heart ? Why not marry him and bear his name,.if, thereby,. she Could, make his 'few remaining months of existence happy, and, by accompa- nying :him South, prolong his life even for a few, weeks ? She shuddered at the suggest- ion, it would be such a miserable lot. But then the question arose : " Who told you that your life was given for happiness? Do, you imagine your Maker set you on' earth solely tohunt your own enjoyment ? Suppose duty costs ou pain and struggles ; it it ahy the less .duty Nay, is it not all the more urgent duty ?" She- knew that she could return to the artist, and, with, one brief' sentence, pour the chrism of joyover his suffering soul; and' her great compassion, mild-eyed, soft lipped, tender-hearted, whispered: Why not'? why not ? . "Nature owns no man who is not a martyr. withal." It' this dictum possessed any value, did it'not point to her mission ? She could no longer shut hbr eyes and stumble on, for right in her path stood an awful form, with austere lip and fiiiry eye, demanding a parley, defying all escape; atnd, calmly, she stood face to face with her Sphinx, considering her rid- dle. A young, motherless girl, without the girding of a holy religion, a free, untamed soul, yielding allegiance to no creed, hearkening only to, the dictates of her tempestuous nature, now confronting the most ancient immemorial Destroyer who haunts the highways of society. Self-immolation, or a poisoning of the spring of joy in the heart of a fellow-creature'? Was duty a Moloch, clasping its scorching arms around its devotees ?-a Juggernaut, indeed, whose iron wheels drank the life-blood of its victims? ," Will you see your benefactor sink swiftly into an early grave, and, standing by with tolded arms, persuade yourself that it is not your:duty to'"attempt to save him at all hazards ? Can nothing, less than love ever sanction ,marriage ?" , Such wds the riddle hurled before her, and, as she pondered, the, floodgates of her sorrow and jealousy were once more lifted-the rush and roar ot bitter wite~rs drowned, fora time, the accents of con- science and of reason. . hut Qutsot these fierce asphaltic waves arose, Aphirodite-like, a pure, radiant, heavenlysform -'-a child' of all climes, conditions, and ages- an immortal ev gei; and, as the 'piercing, sunny eyes of w'manly intuition looked upon the riddle, ths stony lineaments of the Sphinx melted into air.. If womanly eyes rest on this page the answer need not' be traced here, for in every true woman's heart the. answer is to be found-engraved in God's own charac- ters; and, however the rubbish ofignoble mo- tives may accumulate, it cannever obliterate the divine handwriting. In the holiest oratory of her nature is enshrined an infallible talis- man, an ,gis, and she requires no other pano- ply in the long struggle incident to trials such as shook the stormy soul of the young artist. Faster fell the snow-flakes, cresting the waves of hair like toam, and, setting her teeth firmly, as if thereby locking the door against all, com- passionating compunctions, Electra left the park and turned into a cross-street, on which was situated an establishment where bouquets were kept for sale. The , assortment was meagre at that late hour, but she selected a tiny bunch of delicate, fragrant, hothouse blossoms, and, shielding them with her shawl, hastened home. The studio was brilliant with gas-glare and warm with the breath of anthra- cite,' bat an aspect of dreariness, silence, and sorrow predohiinated. The figures in the pictures' shrank back in their frames, the stat- ues gleamed mournfully white and cold,,and the emaciated form and face of the painter, thrown into bold relief' by the dark green lining of the easy-chair, seemed to belong to realms of death rather than life. On the edge of the low scroll-sculptured mantle, supported at each corner by caryatides, perched large time gray owl, with clipped wings folded,, and wide, solemn, oracular eyes fastened on the countenance of its beloved master. .A bronze clock, of exquisite workmanship, oc- cupied the centre, and represented the Angel of, Revelations "swearing by Rim that liveth, fhr ever and ever, that Time should be no longer." One hand held the open book, the other a hammer, which gave out the hours with clear. metallic ring; and along the base, just under- neath the silver-dial-plate, were carved, in German characters, the words of Richter: "And an immeasurably extended hammer was to strike the last hour of Time, and shiver the universe asunder." With swift, noiseless steps Electra came to the red grate, and, after a moment,. drew an ottoman close to the easy-chair. Perhaps.its occupant slept; perchance he wandered, with closed eyes, far down among the-,sombre, dank ,crypts of memory. She laid her coolfingers on hid hand, and held the bouquet before him. - " My dear sir, here are your flowers; they are not as pretty as usual, but sweet enough to atone for lack of beauty." He fingered them caressingly, laid 'theak against his hollow cheeks, and hid his lips among their fragrant petals, but the starry eyes were fixed on the features of the pupii.. " It is bitter weather out; did you brave it for these ? Thank you, but don't expose your- self so in future. Two invalids in a house are quite enough. You are snow-crowned, little one; do you know it ? The frosting- gleams right royally on that black hair of yours. Nay, child, don't brush it off; like all lovely things it fades rapidly, melts away like the dreams that flutter around a boy in the witchery of a long, still, sunny summer day."., His thin hand nestled in her shining hair, and she submitted to the touch in silence. " My dove soared away from this dreary ark, -and bathed her silver wings in 'the free air of heaven ; returning but to bring me some grateful memorial, an olive-branch, where- with to deck this gloomy ark of mine. Next time she will soar farther, and find a. more tempting perch, and gladden Noah's eyes no more." "'if so, it will be because the high and dry land'of God beckons her; and when the del- uge is ended, she will be needed no longer." "For, then, Electra, Noah's haven of rest will be the fair still fields of Eternity." In. this semi-metaphoric strain he often in- dulged of late, but she felt'little inclination to humor the whim, and, interlacing her slight fingers, she6answered, half-impatiently: " Your simile is all awry, sir. Most unfort- unately, I have nothing dove-like in my na- ture." " Originally you had, but your character has been warped." " By what, or whom ?" " Primarily, by unhappy extraneous circum- stances, influences it you will, which contribut- ed to a diseased development of two passions, that now preponderate over all other elements of your character." " A diagnosis which I will not accept." " A true one, nevertheless, my child." " Possibly ; but we will waive a discussion just now. I am, and always intend to be, true to the nature which God gave me." "A dangerous dogma that. Electra, how do you know that the 'nature' you fondle and plume yourself upon emanated from your Maker ?" " How do you know, sir, that God intended that willows should drop and trail their slen- der boughs earthward, while poplars, like granite shafts, shoot up, lifting their silver- shimmering leaflets ever to the clouds? Who fingered their germs and directed their course ?"~ " The analogy will not hold between the vegetable kingdom and the moral and intel- lectual spheres. Men and women are not cast in particular moulds, bound byiron laws, and labelled, like plants or brutes, Genus , Species . Moreover, to man 'alone was given free agency, even to the extent of uprooting, crushing entirely the original ima pulses implanted by God in the human heart 5 to act as motive power. I have known people insane enough to pluck out the wheat, and culture, into rank luxuriance, the tares in their nature. Child, do you ever look ahead to the coming' harvest-time ?" "if do, it contents me to know that each soul binds up its own sheaves." "No;.angels are reapers, and make up the account for the Lord of the harvest." "1 don't, believe that. No third party has any voice in that last, long reckoning. God and the creature only see the balance-sheet." She rose, and, leaning against the mantle, .put out her .hand to caress the solemn-eyed solitary pet of the studio. How he came to he the solace and companion of the artist she had never been told, but knew that a strange fel- lowship linked the 'gray old favorite with the master, and wondered at the almost, human expression with which it sometimes looked from its lofty pedestal upon the langpid move- ments of the painter. " Munin " was the name he ever recognized and answered to, and, when she one iay repeated it to herself, puzzling over its significance, Vr. Clifton told her that it meant " memory," in Scandinavian lore, and belonged to one of the favorite birds of Odin. It was one of his many strange whims, fostered by life-lon researches among the mythologies of the Old orld; and Electra struggled to overcome the undefinable sensa- tion of awe and repulsion which'crept over her whenever she met that fascinating stare fixed upon her. As little love had the bird for her, and, though occasionally it settled' upon the cross-beam of her easel and watched the slow motion of her brush, they seemed" to shrink from each other. Now, as her soft hand touched his feathers, they rumpled, bristled, and he flitted to the artist's knee, uttering a hoarse, prolonged, most melancholy note, as the master caressed him. " Why are not you and Munin better friends ?" " Because I am not wise enough, r evil-bod- ing in appearance, or sufficiently owlish'to suit him, Isuppose. He Chills my blood some- times,'when I come here, in twilight,-before the gis is lighted. I would ,almost as soon confront Medusa." She took from the curious oval mosaic table f new book containing her mark, and reseated herself. As she did so, Munin flapped his 'dusky wings and disappeared through the door opening into the hall, and, shading her'face with one hand, she read aloud a passage heavily underlined by a pencil. "'But this poor, miserable Me!' Is-this. then, all the-book 1 have got to read about God.in ?' Yes, truly so. No other book, nor fragment 'of book, than that will you ever find-no vel- vet-bound missal, nor frankincensed manu- script; nothing hieroglyphic nor cuneitorm; papyrus and pyramid ate alike silent on this matter; nothing in the clouds above, nor ila the page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] A IATTA 66 M earth beneath. That flesh-bound volume is the only revelation that is, that was, or that can be. In that is the image of God painted; in that is the law of God written;, in that is the-promise of God revealed. Know thyself';, for through thyself only thou canst know God. Through the glass darkly; but, except through the glass, in no wise. A tremulous crystal, waved as water, poured out upon the ground;- you may defile it, despise it, pollute it at your pleasure, and at your peril; for on the peace of those weak waves must all the heaven you shall ever gain be first seen, and through such purity as you can win for those dark waves must.all the light of the risen Sun of Bright- ness be bent down by faint refraction. Cleanse them, and calm them, as you love your life." "Mr. Clifton, this epitomizes my creed. There is nothing new in it ; I grant you it is old as the Delphian inscription. Two thousand years ago Socrates preached it in the Agora at Athens. Now it shakes dff its Greek ap- parel, and comes to this generation encumbered in loosely-fitting English garments-immemo- rial Truth peering through modern masks." He regarded her with an expression of sor- rowful tenderness, and his hand trembled as he placed it upon her head._ "6This darling creed, this infallible egotism of yours, will fail you iti the day of fierce trial. Pagan that you are, I know not what is to be- come of you. Oh, Electra ! if you would only be warned in time." The warmth of the room had vermilioned - her cheeks, and the long black lashes failed to veil in any degree the flash of the eyes she raised to his face. Removing the hand from her head, she took it in both hers, and a cold,- dauntless smile wreathed her lips. " Be easy on my account. . I am not afraid of my future. Why should I be? God built an arsenal in every soul before he launched it on the stormy sea of'Time, and the key to mine is Will! I am young and healthy; the rich purple blood bubbles through my veins like Chian wine; and, with my heritage of poverty and obscurity, I look fortune's favor- ites in the eye, and dare them to retard or crush me. A vast caravan of mighty souls, 'whose distant footsteps echo down the corri- dors of Time,' have gone before me; and step by step I tramp after. What woman has done, woman may do; a glorious sisterhood of artists beckon me on; what -Elizabeth Cheron, Si- bylla Merian, Angelica Kauffman, Elizabeth Le Brun, Felicie Fauveau, and Rosa Bonheur have achieved, I also will accomplish, or die in the effort. These travelled no royal road to immortality, but rugged, thorny paths ; and who shall stay miy feet ? Afar off gleams my resting- place, but ambition scourges me un- ftagc/nl on. Do not worry about my future; I will tae care of it, and of myself.",-. " And when, after years of toil, you win fame, even fame enough to satisfy your large LL L. - expectations,. what then? Whither will you look for happiness?" " I will grapple fame to my empty heart, as women do other idols'" "It will freeze you, my dear child. Re- member the mournful verdict which Dante gave the world through the lips of Oderigi: Cimabue thought To lord it over Painting's'fleld; and now The cry is Giotto's, and his name eclipsed. Thus bath one cJuido from the other snatched The lettered prize: and he, perhaps, is born, Who shall drive either from their nest. The noise of worldly fame is but a blast of wind That blows from divers points and shifts its name, shifting the point it blows from." " And, Electra, that chill blast will wail through your lonely heart, chanting a requiem over the trampled, dead hopes that might have garlanded your life. Be warned, oh ! daugh- ter of Agamemnon-! 'The earth hath bubbles'as the water hath; And this is .of them. " . " At all events, I will risk it. Thank God! whatever other faults I confess to, there is no taint of cowardice in my soul.". She rose, and stood a moment on the rug, looking into the red net-work of coals, then turned to leave hire, saying : "I must go to your mother now, and pres- .ently I will bring your tea." 4" You need not trouble. I can go to the dining-room to-night." " It is no trouble ; it gives me great pleasure to do something for your comfort ; and I know you always enjoy your supper more when you have it here." As she closed the door he pressed his face against the morocco .lining and groaned un- consciously, and large glittering tears, creep- ing from beneath, the trembling lashes, hid themselves in the curling brown beard. To see that Mrs. Clifton's supper suited her,' and then to read aloud to her for half an hour from the worn family bible, was part of the daily routine which Electra.permitted nothing to interrupt. - On this occasion she found she old lady seated, as usual, before the fire, her crutches leaning against the chair and her favorite cat curled on the carpet at* her feet. Most tenderly did the aged cripple love her son's protege, and the wrinkled sallow face lighted up with a smile of pleasure at her en-1 trance. "I thought it was about time for' you to come to me. Sit down, dear, and touch the bell for Kate. How is Harry ?" " No strong , I am afraid. You know' this is very bad wea her for him." . S" Yes ; when he came up to-day I thought he looked ifiore feeble than I had ever seen him; and, as I sit here and listen to his hollow cough, every sound seems a stab at my heart." She rocked herself to and fro for a moment, and added, mournfully: -MAC. " Ah, child ! it is so hard to see my young- est boy going down to the grave before me. The last of five, I hoped he would survive me, but consumption is a terrible thing; it took my husband first, then, in quick succession, my other children, and now Harry, my darling, my youngest, is the last prey." Anxious to divert her mind, Electra adroitly changed the conversation, and when she rose to say good-night, some time after, had the sat, isfaction of knowing that the old lady thad fallen asleep. It was in vain that she arranged several tempting .dishes on - the table beside the painter, and coaxed him to partake of them; he received but a cup of tea from her hand, and motioned the remainder away. As the servant removed the tray he looked up at his pupil, and said : " Please wheel the lounge nearer to the grate ; I am too tired to sit up to-night." She complied at once, shook up the pillow, and, as he .laid his head upon it, she'spread his fieavy plaid shawl over him. "Now, sir, what shall I read this evening ?" " Arcana Caelestia," if you please."' She took up the volume, and began at the place he designated ; and, as she read on and on, her rich flexible voice rose and fell upon the air like waves of melody. One of her hands chanced to hang over the arm of the chair, and, as she sat near the lounge, thin hot fingers twined about it, drew it caressingly to the pillow, and held it tightly.. Her first im- pulse was to withdraw it, and an expression of annoyance crossed her features; but, on see- ond thought, she suffered her fingers to rest passively in his. Now and then, as she turned a leaf, she met his luminous eyes fastened upon her ; but after a time the quick breathing at- tracted her attention, and, looking down, she saw that he, too, was sleeping. She closed the book and remained quiet, fearful of disturbing him; arid as she studied the weary, fevered face, noting the marh of disease, the sorrow- ful drooping of' the -mouth, so indicative of grievous disappointment, a new and holy ten- derness awoke in her heart. It was"a feeling analogous to that of a mother for a suffering child, who can be soothed only by her presence and caresses-an affection not unfrequently kindled in haughty natures by the entire de- pendence of a weaker one. Bleniled with this was a remorseful consciousness of the coldness with which she had persistently rejected, re- pulsed every manifestation of his devoted love ; and, winding her fingers through his long hair, she vowed an atonement for the past' irk increased gentleness for the remainder of his waning life. As she ,bent over hini, wear- ing her compassion in her face, he opened his eye's and looked at her. " How long have I slept ?" " Nearly an hour. How do you feel since your nap I" He made no reply, and she put her hand on ARIA. 67 his forehead. The countenance lighted, and he said slowly: '" Ah I yes, press your cool soft little palm on my brow. It seems to still the throbbing in my temples."t hb " It is late, Mr. Clifton, and I nMust leave you. William looked in, a few minutes since, to say that the fire burned in your room, butI would not wake you. - I will send him to you. Good-night." She leaned down voluntarily and kissed, him, and, with a quick movement, he folded her to his heart an instant, then released her, murmuring huskily: it God bless you, Electra, and reward you for your patient endurance. Good-night, my pre- cious child." She went to her own room, all unconscious of the burst of emotion which shook the feeble frame of the painter, long after she, had laid her head n her pillow in the sound slumber of healthful youth. CHAPTER XIV. The year that ensued proved a valuable school of patience, and taught thqyoung artist a gentleness of tone and quietude of'manner at variance with the natural impetuosity of her character. Irksome beyond degree was the discipline to which she subjected herself, but, with a fixedness of purpose that knew no wa- vering, she walked through the daily dreary routine, keeping her eyes upon the end that slowly but unmistakably approached. ' In mid- summer Mr. Clifton removed, for a few weeks, to the Catskill, and occasionally he rallied for a few hours, with a tenacity of strength almost miraculous. During the still sunny afternoons hosts of gay visitors, summer tourists, ofteh paused in their excursions to watch the ema- ciated form of the painter leaning on the arm of his beautiful pupil, or reclining on a lichen- carpeted knoll while she slktched the sur- rounding scenery. Increased feebleness pre- vented Mrs. Clifton from joining in these out- door jaunts, and early in September, when it became apparent that her mind was rapidly sinking into imbecility, they returned to the city. Memory seemed to have deserted its throne ; she knew neither her son nor Electra, and the last spark of intelligence.manifested itself in a semi-recognition of her favorite eat, which sprang to welcome her back as friendly hands bore her to the chamber she was to quit no more till death released the crushed, spi A letter, was' found on the atelier mantle,,dir rected to Electra in familiancharacters, whicha she had not seen fer months. Very qne'1 she put it ih her pocket, and inthe soliti u~ of her room broke "the seal; found that :el had returned during her absence,.hadsge t a morning in. the studio-looking over bat''w'ork and had gone' Southa,to establhsh hima~f e e page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 60v laati et oghat r~h bagidbus, lidsons ii appointment. A bitter cry rg din f ha lii al a hdlithaes wuneahs eherAspair-! ' ufutpdbouri lategeht stood,,* s sA artist with unruffled brow and- a.qrensnoutih S oad bem muace4l o htetreavwg-aw- ,ingiIha nheat.: MWilitne4:amalifi earlb r lhahtiitsal pwiCthi nwosdte i1 sVer y ya t .reJsh aftirlweeyflec rii wd5aIe cQnttiualf from one sufferer-to another, striN'iwn;toal .- IatntiifJIrade stpab6beamsIsushmine (id.l e-rih gened asibi us ugier l mg ,ind aafokaetshdasqaha' itted f brukeam'l4 room, sometimes shrinkiv dih wnshad 'o'yt uefiti fdedksnfp tigmttge-pbiihd4 Wall -mlskle fsp atial down am hodead of night. Unremitted vigil set its Ifdinfalle esinatconddisfaasyhu#r.c0ifteititauld! b tbreIo l hosr tib0 ainfid It sabi* p hhdrbaipedtaneta dheuJ:Mngsdoungl si -haas tvateduwitbbsr ~i-v &[ uper adios effects of this tedious confindnestAMhkhe% she only answered, steadily: "I will nurse him so long as I hav rstrength'left to creep from one room to a ' er', n. During Clirha n grew alarmingly ederralDa HoRo peouutedthmenrid:life " ydM diysk, 4u e aCie ;a nr ;ei d eaimd ikia ais1 hmxe libnnhdaistedi ennbeng ari 1notgluiaestqdio. l aiMwhiidcas humoed, edid rappniiih s iieisrobide chainkne,dhie Alwdssaatesdl i rggenlis ned ehaimglifig -.t findwitm lfdmee t eliirehidst df i h x~mnrsa'.diegkith;valvbedinfrony u~e 3i* $ttenueted yuisii Aiftegahs'ishedfaitg -towadd tl i umeg a datager y{ 5 J't 1won I ,d avm e s ukiWilhiamadani -ist b idibtonhdetf&shi wa fhddi i)enxtighi Ghied An e gsalette;:wai taT hEqiledunth4 yfoneheagimy pIii otd4ti heds a: c -lighti rti T aresnooste g no gh ta r:ir Mait "I'n;;%iio dwA temourgwe Xqsils cY xih1d#o d -andAhaift iiharn Wet :I&heains;ilsay' eba4ell idlIda msf, a oiliwoodil-g -rqlgwal*eeI bufigdssioestree lnoideahr -J andecidagaquiesoed it ad 1ing a+b lesekrs gionn}rle.g, , ale hoit 4ireet s aad= ectain adspoi a10toss-eedm'heeleaneddefampra ia' ' gahskdieahneathyli lp&amisa rnasterjhteceprthe dt gdesga a hichbihad whaube li idaniai 4aa;$ee .d~fr #M b pald-tishibeof t " fa v h isk laa~ia getrquane stpalliatia# ~ v' "7 iep eesing}i1s ed rlrpuYdthqadkathof . bar-~int eted pl bdada,i ehrespSimb -ij sitadhiagndoshgh thw winddwAof- t',tset ,i t iuwiog eysfiehde . e reilt ndmh nea Electra bear j,4'4 touches, a shiver' ran thrp ug , 1f; ; e laymje h lcr iI declining day stgy~4 "Off99, hA4 epilQI l i s i s Y ' uf -1 she, roet" amn t~li ejvae "Give md o oreofit I w~i~a ag-l lect clouded'by.opiates&' ?t it into the fire and let me rest."" "Oh, sir I can I do nothingf1ry 'wf "Yes; read to me. Y6m!iksaIlsom ew Read me that letter of lambliehnl to gathnI Ies, which I marked last summer'i nwid ii: She read it, and, without questioningoIai llN the book aside and.took up a volupiJana{mh Belimen, of which he was very fond, elioting here and there, passages designated by= enut&4j marks. -He had long 'revelled among the ohe b less abysses ofdim, medieval, mystical lore,, a4 strange as it may appear, the quaint old boa I preserved their spell and riveted the wander ing mind, even, on the verge of dissolutiorno She knew that Cornelius-Agrippa, . Theo- phrastus Paracelsus, and Swedenborg held singular mastery over hime; but she shrank from all these*now, as though they had been bound in flames, and a yearning to comfort him frofn the sacred lips of Jewish prophets' and apostles took possession of her. Passages which she had read to her, blind aunt came back to her now, ringing trumpet-toned in her ears, and she rose to bring a bible from Mrs. Clifton's room. " Where are you going ?" "To your mother's room, for a moment only. I want a book which I left there.". " Sit still. . Do not leave me, I beg of you." He drew her back to the seat, and after a short silence said, slowly: ' "Electra, are you afraid of death ?" "No, sir." " Do you know that I am dying ?" "I have. seen you as ill several times be- fore." " You are a brave, strong-hearted child ; glazed eyes and -stiffened limbs will not frighten you, I have but few hours to live; put your hand in m'n, and promise me that you will sit here till my soul quits .its ,clay- prison. Will you watch with me the death of the' year ? Are you afraid to stay with me and see me die ?" . She would not trust herself to speak, but laid her hand in his and clasped it firmly. He smiled,.and added: "Will you promise to call no one? I want no eyes but yours to watch me as I die. Let there tbe dnly you and me." "1I promise." For some moments he lay motionless, but the intensity of his gaze. made her restless, and she shaded her face. "Electra, my darling, your martyrdom draws to a close. I have been merciless in my exactions, I know ; you are worn to a shadow, and your face is sharp and' hagaard ; but. you will forgive me all, when the wdiows of Green- wood trail their boughs across my headstone. You have been faithful- and uncomplaining; you- have been to me a light, a .joy, and a glory ! 'God bless you, my pupil. There w-as a time when, looking at the future that stretch- 6feeiassse' youia*#olluh~vIgadttti% triekor fou .aamingme~ridigististandyktr d puty $ cm w&ip . i hSri ,y 4r w;l bhaveanetlyieg ,yogslgio thrs nidst Pryg R arkho geIgking yog)onti of) |lth asain- days ahayigdagmbydi Ishg boa req g to'Wake.of yann.unhesitateng :1 ga le # -r igi n a h o ng 494wat qk,/ aven::mgol.ap o0 r3 : s 9,1' igds c yng biti ;l}p3i Ra lyyggil-s lae. ban-alta yogii hdel eg#er' 14e =idag bhar-zet#a slept; fer.ggarble hpiU 'renokggir thati ' have ag eeef' =3r -20r M.a rgs 4 another- J- 4r g v oek)4 s of my will; tab:c g gf 3 and'pJ 0 j eiy'? hands ast.eposo asppsil it Giye ingd1;se} water." . ;k::: ; igt3;::di boo.- Jndliit She held th '5; s. A s jps And; hi wp* back, a brighy..yeAji oya l4 a te. . "Ah, child ! it isecfr g haygig here-you are so}qpyrejll r,, n 'She -took his thin hands i4, *r ogi a} 449 tears fell upon them.", gt fir . t crushed her heart, lf ab pqidhpi le dread, and she asked, f ltenegyj ijenil wi "Are, you willing to dR,?, J"1 yam, s p tp peace with God ? Havp gua '. eggfa Eternity ?" . - o 3 o "None, my child, none." . . i, boo- "Would you like to have Mr.j lsysp ; and pray for you ?" g a ,. "I want no one now but you.'aye ,1 " A long silence ensued, broken gonly,;ij heavily-drawn breath of the suffeg., J@he memory of her aunt's tranquil death :hlpB the girl, and, finally, the desire to dirgAP thoughts to God, triumphed over every atb1 feeling. She. sank on her; kneesbeside . lounge, and a passionate prayer leaped.fro her pale lips. ,She had not prayed for nearly four years, and the petition went, tsp to G$d framed in strange, incoherent language-- plaintive cryito the Father to release, painless- ly, a struggling human soul. His firigers clung spasmodically to,hers, and, soon after,.the head sank on his che@, and she saw that he.slept. The glittering cortege of constellations mov- ed solemnly on in their eternal march through the fields of heaven, and in midskty hung a moon of almost supernatural brightness, glar- 'ing down through the skylight liken inquis itoria4 eye. Two hours elapsed; the measured melancholy tick of the blocbre marked the ex- piring moments of the old year,; the red coals of the grate put on their robe ofasheg ;,the gaslight burned dirnly,:and flickered now tnd then as the wind surged through the partially' opened window ; -and there by the couch sat 11 t page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 MALARIA. tWe motionless watcher, noting the indescriba- ble but unmistakable change creeping on, like the shadow which slowly-sailing summer clouds cast down upon green' meadows or flowery hill-sides, darkening the landscape. The fee- ble, thread-like pulse fluttered irregularly, but the breathing became easy and low as a babe's, and occasionally a gentle sigh heaved the chest. Once his lips had moved, and she caught the indistinct words-" Didereet, de- grees," - , "influx ," " type-cyeat- ure." She knew that the end was at hand, and a strained, frightened expression came into- her large eyes as she glanced nervously' round the room, weird-and awful in its gloomy surroundings. 'The damp masses of hair clung to her temples, and she felt heavy drops gath- ering on her 'forehead, as in that glance she met the solemn, fascinating eyes of Munin staring at' her from the low- mantle. She caught her breath, and the deep silence was broken by the metallic tongue that dirged out " twelve." The last stroke of the bronze hammer echoed 'drearily ; the old year lay stark and cold on its bier ; Munin flapped his dusk wings with a. long, sepulchral, blood- curdling hoot, and the dying man opened his dim, failing eyes, and fixed themn for the last time on his pupil., Electra, my darling." " My dear master, I am here." She lifted his head to her bosom, nestled her fingers into' his cold palm, and leaned her cheek against his brow. Pressing his face close to hers, the gray eyes closed, and a smile throned itself on the parted lips. A slight tremor shook the limbs, a soft shuddering breath swept across the watcher's face, and the " golden bowl " was shivered, the " silver cord" was loosed. She' sat there till the iciness of the rigid form chilled her, then laid the head tenderly down on its pillow, and walked to the mantle- piece. The Angel of Time lifted the hammer and struck "dne ;' and as she glanced acci- dentally at the inscription on the base, she remembered a favorite quotation -which it had often called from the cold lips of the dead painter: "Time is my fair seed-fioid, of Time I 'm heir." The seed-time had ended; the calm fields of Eternity stretched before him.no'w ; the fruits of the harvest were required at his hands. Were they full of ripe golden sheaves, or----? She shrank from her own questioning, and looked over her shoulder at the dreamless, smiling sleeper. "is palms are folded on his breast; There is no other thing expressed, But long disquiet merged in rest.", ' The vigil was over, the burden was lifted from her shoulders, the weary ministry here te lonely woman wpt btteraly. hr rm, CHAPTER XV. Four years had wrought material changes in the Town of W-.-; new streets had been opened, new buildings'erected, new forms trod the sidewalks new faces looked out of shop- windows and flashing equipages, and 'new shafts of granite and marble stood in the ceme- tery to tell of many who had been gathered to their forefathers, The old red school-house, where two generations had been tutored, was swept away to make place for a railroad de- pot; and, instead of the venerable trees that once overshadowed its precincts, bristling walls' of brick and mortar rang with the shrill whis- tle of the engine, or the sharp continual click of repairing-shops. The wild shout, the rip- pling laugh of careless, childish glee were banished, and the 'frolicsome flock of by-gone years had grown to manhood and womanhood, were sedate business-men and sober inatrons. If important revolutions had been effected in her early home, not less decided and apparent- was the change which had taken place in the heiress of Huntingdon Hill; and having been eyed, questioned, scrutinized.by the best fami- lies, and laid in the social scales, it was found a difficult matter to determine, her weight as accurately as seemed desirable. In common parlance, " her education was finished "-she was regularly and unmistakably " out." Eve- rybody hastened to inspect her, sound her, label her ; mothers to compare her with their own daughters; daughters to discover how much they had to apprehend in the charms of the new rival; sons to satisfy themselves with regard to the truth of the rumors concerning her beauty ; all with curiosity stamped on their countenances; all with dubiety written there at the conclusion. of their visit. Perfectly self-possessed, studiedly polite, attentive to' all the. punctilios of etiquette, polished and irreproachable in deportment, but cold, reti- cent, grave, indulging in no familiarities, and allowing none; fascinating by her extraordi- nary beauty and grace, but tacitly impressing upon all, " Thus far, and no farther." Havinga lost her aunt two years before her return, the duties of hostess devolved upon her, and she dispensed the hospitalities of her home with an easy though stately elegance, surprising-in one so inexperienced. No positive charge could be preferred against her by the inquisi- torial circle; even Mrs. Judge Harriss, the self- constituted, but universally acknowledged, au- tocrat of beau monde in W-, accorded her a species of negative excellence, and confessed herself baffled and unable to pronounce a verdict. An enigma to her own father, it was not wonderful'that strangers knit their brows in striving to analyze her character,'and ore long the cooing of carrier-pigeons became au- dible: "lHer mother had been very eccentric; evnbefor he death it wa hispre that inany hung treateningly overherretrange things were told of her, and, doubtless, Irene inherited her peculiarities.". Nature furnishes some seeds with downy wings to insure distri- bution, and' envy and malice, and probably, very innocent and mild-intentioned gossip, soon provided this report-with remarkable fa- cilities for progress. It chanced that Dr. Ar nold was absent for some weeks after her ar- rival, and no sooner had he returned than be sought his quondam protige. Entering unan- nounced, he paused suddenly as he caught sight of her standing before the fire, with Par- agon at her feet. She lifted her, head and tame to meet him, holding out both hands, with a warm, bright smile. " Oh, Dr: Arnpld ! I am so glad to see you once more. It was neither friendly nor hos- pitable to go off just as I came home, after long years of absence. I am so very glad to see you." He held her hands and .gazed at her like one in a dream of mingled pain and pleasure, and when he spoke 1his voice was unsteady. " You can not possibly be as glad to see me as I am to have you back. - But I can't realize that this is, indeed, you, my pet-the Irene I parted with rather more than four 'years ago. Child, what is it ? What have you done to. yourself ? . I called you Queen in your infan- cy, when you clung to my finger and tottered across the floor to creep into my arms, but ten- fold more appropriate does the title seem now. You are not the same Irene who used to toil u my office-steps, and climb upon the tallest chair to examine the skeletons in my cases- the snakes andlizards in my jars. Oh, child ! what a marvellous, what a glorious beauty you have grown to be." " Take care ; you will spoil her, Arnold. Don't you know, you old cynic, that women can't stand such flattery as yours ?" laughed Mr. Huntingdon. " "I am glad you like me, Doctor ; I am glad that you think I have improved ; and, since you think so, I am obliged to you for express- ing, your opinion of me so kindly. I wish I could return your compliments, but my con- science vetoes any such proceeding. You look jaded-overworked. What is the reason that you have grown so gray and haggard ? We will enter into a compact to renew the old life; you shall treat me exactly as you used to do, and I shall come to you as formerly, and interrupt labors that seem too heavy. Sit down, and talk to me. I want to' hear your voice ; it is pleasant to my ears, makes music in my heart, calls up the by-gone. You have adopted a stick in my absence ; I don't like the innovation; it hurts me to think that you need it. I must take care of you, I see, and persuade you to relinquish it entirely." ." Arnold, I verily believe she was more anx- ious to see you than everybody else in )VW - exept old Nele, her nurse." She did lot contradict him, and the three sat conversing for more than an hour; then other visitors, came; and she withdrew to the parlor. The doctor had examined her closely all the while; had noted every word, action, expression; and a troubled, abstracted. look came into his face when she left. them. "Huntingdon, what is it ? What is it ?" " What is what ? I don't understand you." " What has so changed that child ? I want to know what ails her ." "Nothing, that I know of. You know she was always rather singular." " Yes, but it was a different sort of singu- larity. She is too still and white and cold and stately. I told you it was a wretched piece of business to send a nature like hers, so differ- ent from everybody's' else, off among utter strangers ; to shut up that queer, 'free, tintam- ed young thing in a boarding-schoo[ for four years, with hundreds of miles between her and the few things she loved. She required very peculiar and skilful treatment, and, instead; you put her off.where she petrified ! I knew it would never answer, andI told you so. You wanted tp break her obstinacy, did you? She comes back marble. I tell you now I know her. better than you do, though you are her father, and. you may as well give up at onCe that chronic hallucination of 'ruling, conquer- ing her.' She is like steel-cold, firm, brittle; she will break, snap asunder ;-but bend.- never! never ! Huntingdon, I love that child ; I have a right to love her ; she has been very dear to me from her babyhood, and it would go hard wth me to know that any sorrow darkened her life. Don't allow your old plans and views to influence you now. Let Irene 'be happy 'in her own way. Did you ever see a contented-looking eagle in a gilt cage ? Did you ever know a leopardess kept in a pad- -dock and taught to forget her native jungles'." Mr. Huntingdon moved uneasily, ponder- ing the unpalatable, advice. "You certainly don't mean to say that she has inherited -." He crushed bick the words; could he crush the apprehension, to6? "I mean to say that, if she were my cild, I would be guided by her, instead of striving to cut her. character to fit the totally different pattern of my own." He put on his hat, thrust his hands into his pockets, stood for some seconds frown ing so heavily that the shaggy eyebrows met and partially concealed the. cavernous eyes, then nodded to the master of the house and sought his buggy. From that .day Irene was con- scious of a keener and more constant scrutiny on her father's part-a ceadeless surveida 'ce, silent, but rigid-that soon grew intolerable. No matter how she employed her time, or whither she went, he seetned thoroughly cog- nizant of the details of her life; and w 1r she lenfst expected interruption or dictation his, hand, firm though gentle, pointed the way, and his voice ca'Imly but inflexibly directed. MALARIA. ?1 page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] MACARIA. 7 72 MACARIA. Ier affection had been in no degree alienated by their long separation, and, through its sway, she submitted for a time ; but Hunting- don blood ill brooked restraint, and,' ere long, hers became feverish, necessitating release. As in all tyrannical natures, his exactions grew upon her compliance. She was allowed no margin for the exercise of judgment or in- clination; her associates were'selected,. thrust upon her"; her occupations decided without reference to her wishes. From the heartless, frivolous routine marked out she shrank in dis- gust; and, painful as was the alternative, she prepared for the clash which soon became in- evitable. He wished her to behappy, but in his own way, in accordance with his views and aims, and, knowing the, utter antagonism of taste and feeling which unfortunately existed, she determined to resist. Governed less by impulse than sober second thought and sound reasoning, it was not until after long and pa- tient deliberation that she finally resolved upon her future course, and steadily main- tained it. She felt most keenly that it was a painful, a lamentable resolution, but'none the less a necessity; and, having once determined, she went forward with a fixedness of purpose characteristic of her family. It was the begin- ning of a life-long contest, and, to one who understood Leonard Huntingdon's disposition, offered a dreary prospect.o From verbal differences she habitually ab- stained; opinions which she knew to be disa- greeable to him she carefully avoided giving expression to in his presence ; and, while al- ways studiously thoughtful of his comfort, she preserved a respectful deportment, allowing herself no hasty or defiant words. Fond of pomp and ceremony, and imbued with certain aristocratic notions, which an ample fortune had, always permitted -him' to 'indulge, Mr. Huntingdon entertained company in princely style and .whenever an opportunity offered. His dinners, suppers, and card-parties were known far and wide, and Huntingdon Hill be- came proverbial I'or hospitality thi-oughout the state. Strangers were feted, and it was a rare occurrence for father and daughter to dine quietly together. Fortunately for Irene, the servants were admirably trained; and though this round of' company imposed a weight of re- sponsibilities oppressiye to one so inexperi- enced, she apple ed herself diligently to domes- tic economy, and soon became familiarized with its details. Her father had been very anxious to provide her with a skilful house- keeper, to relieve her of the"care and tedious minutia of such matters ; but she refused to accept one, avowing her belief that it was the imperative duty of every woman to superintend and inspect the management of her domestic affairs. Consequently, from the first' week of her return, she made it a rule to spend an hour after breakfast in her dining-room pantry, de. termining and arranging the details of the day. The situation of' the house comianded an extensive and beautiful prospect, and the an- cient trees that overshadowed it, imparted a venerable and imposing aspect. The building was of brick, overcast, to represent granite, and along three sides ran a wide gallery, sup- ported by lofty circular pillars, crowned with unusually heavy capitals. The main body consisted of two stories, with a hall in the centre and three rooms on either side ; while two long single-storied wings stretched out right and left-one a billiard-room, the other- a greenhouse. The parlors and library occupied.one side- the first opening into the greenhouse; the dining-room and smoking-room were corres- ondingly situated to the billiard-saloon. The frescoed ceilings were too low to suit modern ideas; the windows were large, and nearly square ; the faciirgs, sills, and doors all of ce- dar, dark as mahogany with age, and polished as rosewood. The tall mantle-pieces were of fluted Egyptian black marble, and along the freshly-tinted walls the elaborate arabesque moulding or cornice hung heavy and threat- ening. A broad easy flight of white marble" steps led up to the richly-carved front-door, with its massive silver knocker bearing' the name of Huntingdon in old-fashioned Italian. characters ; and in the arched niches, on either side of this door, stood two statues, brought from Eurpe by Mr. Huntingdon's father, and supposed to represent certain Ro- man penates. From the hall on the second floor, a narrow, spiral, iron stairway ascended to a circular observatory on the roof, with a row of small columns corresponding with those below, and a tessellated floor of alternating white and variegated squares-of marble. Originally the observatory had been crowned by a heavy pagoda-shaped roof, *but recently this had. been removed and a covering of glass substi- tuted, whihh, like that of hothouses, could be raised and lowered at pleasure by means . ropes and pulleys. Two generations had bm- bellished this house, and the modern wings forming .the cross had been erected within Irene's recollection. In expectation. of her return, an entirely new set of furniture had been selected in New York,. and arranged some weeks before her arrival-costly carpets, splendid mirrors, plush and brocatel sofas, rich china, and 'every luxury which wealth and fastidious taste could supply. *The grounds in front, embracing several acres,-were enclosed by, a brick wall, and at the foot of the hill, at the entrance of the long avenue of elms, stood a tall arched iron gate. A smoothly-paven terrace of' hermuda grass ran round the house, and the broad carriage-way swept up to a mound opposite the door, surmounted by the bronze figure of a crouchin" dog. -On one side of the avenue a beautif~al lawn, stadded with clumps of trees, extended to the wall; on the other serpentine walks, bordered with low hedges, carved flower-beds of diverse shapes; and here delicate trellis-work supported rare, creepers, and airy, elegant arbors and summer- houses were overgrown with vines of rank luxuriande. Everything about the parlerre, from the well-swept gravel walks to-the care- fully-clipped hedges, betokened constant at- tention and lavish expenditure. But the crowning glory of the place was its wealth of trees-the ancient avenue of mighty elms, arching grandly to the sky like .the groined nave of some vast cathedral; The circlet of sentinel poplars towering around the house, and old as its foundations; the long, undulat- ing line of venerable willows waving at the froot of the lawn over the sinuous little brook that rippled on its way to the creek ; and, be- yond the mansion, cloting the sides, of a steeper hill, a sombre background of murmur- ing, solemn, immemorial pines. Such was Irene's home-stately and elegant-kept 'so thoroughly repaired that, in its cheerfulness, its age was forgotten. The society of W was considered re- markably fine. There was quite an aggrega- tion of wealth and refinement ; gentlemen, whose, plantations were situated-in adjacent counties, resided here, with -their families ; some, who spent their winters on the seaboard? resorted here for the summer; its bar was said to possess more talent than any other in the state; its schools claimed to be unsurpassed ;' its boasted of a concert-hall, a lyceum, a hand- some court-house, a commodious, well-built jail, and half-a-dozen as fine churches as any. country-town could desire. I would fain avoid the term, if possible, but no synonym exists- W was, indisputably, an " aristocratic' place. Thus; after more than four years absence, the summers of which had been spent in travel among the beautiful mountain scenery of the North, the young heiress returned to the home of her childhood. Standing on the verge of nineteen, she put the early garlanded years behind her and looked into the solemn temple of womanhood, with its chequered pavement of light and shadow ; its storied friezes, gilded architraves, and fretted shrines, wherewhite- robed hands of devotees enter with uncertain step, all eager, trembling' Mystw, soon to be- come clear-eyed, sad-eyed, Epnptc, through the unerring, mystical, sacred initiation of the only true hierophant-Time. From her few early school associates she had become completely estranged; and the renewal of their acquaintance now soon.con- vinced herthat the utter want of congeniality in character and habits of life precluded the possi- bility of,.any warm friendships between them. For several months after her return shea pa- tiently,. hopefully, faithfully studied the disgo- sitions of the members of various families with whom she foresaw that she would be thrown, by her father's wishes,linto intimate relation- ship, and satisfied herself that, among all these, there was not one, save Dr. Arnold, whose'counsel, assistance, or sympathy she felt any inclination to claim. Human nature at least is, beyond all cavil,-cosmopolitan in its characteristics (barring a few ethnologic limi- tations); and a given number of men and women similarly circumstanced iii Chili, Eag- land, Madagascar, Utah, or Biirmah would, doubtless;-yield a like quota' of moral and in- tellectual idiosyncrasies. In fine, W..----- was not in any respect peculiar, or, as a com- munity, specially afflicted with heartlessness, frivolity, brainlessiess, or mammonism:; the average was fair. reputable in all respects. But, incontrovertibly, the girl 'who came to spend her life among these people was totally dissimilar in criteria of action, thought, and feeling. To the stereotyped conventional stand- ard of fashionable lire she had never yielded allegiance; and now stood (not in the St. Si- mon, Fourier, Owen, or Leroux sense).a social free-thinker. For a season she allowed her- self to be whirled on by the current of dinners, parties, and picnics ; but soon her sedate, con- templative temperament revolted from the irksome round, and gradually she outlined and pursueda different course, giving to her gay companionsjust what courtesy required, no' more. Hugh had prolonged his stay in Europe beyond the period oiginaljy designated; and instead of arriving -in time to accompany his uncle and cousin home, he did not sail for some months after their return. At length, how- ever, letters were received, announcing his presence in New York and fixing the day when his relatives might expect him. - CHAPTER XVI. The carriage had been despatched to the depot, a servant stood at the end of the avenue waiting to throw open the gate,Mr. Huntingdon walked up and down the wide colonnade, and Irene sat before the fire int her own room, holding in one palm the flashing betrothal-ring, which she had been forced to wear since her return from New York. She had loa ed into the rooms to see that all was bright and cheerful,,had looped back the cur- tains in the apartment prepared for Hugh, had filled the vases with flowers that he preferred in his boyhood, and now listened for his ap- proach with complex emotions. The sole 'cfu- panion of herinfancy, she would have hailed his arrival with unmixed joy but for the pe- culiar relationship in which she iow stood to him. The few years of partial peace had passed; she knew- that the. hour drew tiear when the loug-dreaded struggle musg egin, and, hopelessof averting i quietly fWaited for the storm to break; Dropping the ring iii her page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 MACARIA. jewelry-box, she turned the key,. and just then her father's voice rang through the' house. "'Irene ! the carriage is coming up the avenue." She went slowly down stairs, followed by Paragon, and joined her father at the door. His searching look discovered nothing in the serene face; the carriage stopped, and he hast-. ened to meet his nephew. " Come' at last, eh! Welcome home, my dear boy." The young man turned from his uncle, sprang up the steps, then paused, and the cousins looked at each other., "Well, Hugh ! I am very glad to see you once more." She held out her hands, and he saw at a' glance that her .fingers were unfettered. Seizing them warmly, he bent forward, bit she drew back coldly, and he exclaimed: "'Irene 1 I claim a warmer welcome." She made a haughty, repellent gesture, and moved forward a few steps to greet the stran- ger who accompanied him. " My daughter, this is your uncle, Eric Mitchell, who has not seen you since you were a baby." The party entered the house, and, seated beside him, Irene gazed with mingled emo- tions of pain and pleasure upon her mother's only brother. He was about thirty, but look- ed older, from life-long suffering; had used crutches from the time he was five years of age, having been hopelessly crippled by a fall. during his infancy. His features were sharp, his cheeks wore the sallow hue of habitual ill- health,.and his- fine gray eyes were somewhat sunken. Resting his crutches, against the -sofa, he leaned back and .looked long and earnestly at his niece. Very dimly he remem- bered a fair flaxen-haired baby whom the nurse had held out to be kissed when he was sent to Philadelphia to be treated for his lame- ness ; soon after he heard of his sister's death, and then his tutor took him to Europe, to command the- best medical advice of the Old World. " From the faint recollection which I have of your mother, I think you strongly resemble her,". he said, at last, in a fond, gentle tone. "1I don't know about that, Eric. She is far more of a Huntingdon than a Mitchell. She has many of the traits of your family, but in appearance she certainly belongs to my side of the house. She very often reminds me of Hugh's mother." Conversation turned upon the misfortune of the cripple; he spoke freely of the unsuccess- ful experiments made by eminent physicians; of the hopelessness of his case; and Irene was particularly -impressed by the calmness ,and patience' with which he seemed to have' e- signed himself to this great affliction. She could detect no ta~ce of complaining bitter.- ness, or, what was still more to be deplored, the irritable, nervous querulousness so often observed in persons of his situation. She found him a ripe scholar, a profound archeolo- gist, and philosophic observer of his age and generation ; and, deeply interested in his quiet, low-toned talk, she.felt. irresistibly drawn to- ward him, careless of passing hours and of Hugh's illconcealed impatience of manner. As they rose from the tea-table her cousin said, laughingly: "I protest against monopoly. I have not been able to'say three words to my lady-cous- in." " I yield the floor, from necessity. My long journeyhas unfitted me for this evening, and I must bid you all an early good-night." " Can I do anything for you, Uncle ?" "No, thank you, Irene; I have a servant who thoroughly understands taking care of' me. Go talk to Hugh, who has been wishing me among the 'antipodes." He shook hands with her, smiled kindly, and Mr. Huntingdon assisted him to'his room. " Irene, come into the library, and let me have a cigar." " How tenacious your badhabits are, Hugh." " Smoking belongs to no such category. My habits are certainly quite as tenacious as ny cousin's antipathies." He selected a cigar, lighted it, and drawing a chair near hers, threw himself into it with an expression, of great satisfaction. " It is de- lightful to get back home and see you again, Irene. I felt some regret at quitting Paris, but the sight of your face more than compen- sates me." She was looking very earnestly at him, not- ing the'-alteration in his appearance, and for a moment his eyes drooped before hers. She saw that the years had been spent,. not in study, but in a giddy round of pleasure and dissipation, yet the bright, frank, genial ex- pression of boyhood still lingered, and she could not deny that he had grown up a very handsome man. She knew that he was capa- ble of sudden, spasmodic impulses of generosity, but saw that selfishness remained the great substratum of his character," -I her keen feel- ing of disappointment showeed her now how much she had hoped to find him changed in this respect. " Irene, I had a right to expect a warmer welcome than you deigned to give me." " Hugh, remember that we have ceased to be children. When you learn to regard me simply as your cousin, and are satisfied with a cousin's welcome, then, and not until then, shall you receive it. Let childish whims pass with the years that have separated us; rake up no germs of contention to mar this first evenin'r of your return. Bc reasonable, and now tefl me how you have employed yourself since we parted ; what have you seen? what have you gleaned ?"' He flushed, angrily, but the imperturbable, face controlled him, even against his will, and, muttering something which she thought sound- ed very much like an oath, he smoked for some* seconds in silence. Without noticing his'sul- lenness, she made some .inquiries concerning. his sojourn in Paris, and insensibly he found himself drawn into a narration of his course of life. She listened with apparent interest, making occasional good-humored comments, and bringing him back to the subject when- ever he attempted a detour toward the topic so extremely distasteful to her. The clock struck eleven ; she rose, and said : "I beg your pardon, Hugh, for keeping you up so late. I ought to have known that you were fatigued by railroad-travel, and required sleep. You know the way to your room;'it is the same you occupied before you went to college. Good-night; I hope you will rest well." She held out her hand carelessly*; he took it eagerly, and holding it up to the light said, .in a disappointed tone: "Irene, where is my ring? Why are you not wearing it ?' "'It is in my jewelry-box. As I gave you my reasons for not wearing it, when you offer- ed it to 'me, it is not necessary to repeat them now. Good-night, Hugh.; go dream of some- thing more agreeable than our old childish quarrels." She withdrew her fingers and left him. As she entered her own room and closed the door, she was surprised to find her nurse sit- ting before the fire, with her chin in her hands, and her keen black eyes fixed on the coals. "Aunt Nellie, what are you sitting up so late for? You will have another spell of rheumatism, tramping about this time of night." "I have been in to' see Mass' Eric, blessed lamb that he always was-and always will be. He is so changed I never would have known him; he was a weak little white-faced cripple when I- first saw him twenty years ago. It seems like there is a curse on your family any- how, both sides. They died off, and'have been killed off, on your mother's side, till Mass' Eric is the only one left of all the Mitchells, and, as for Master's family, you and Hugh are the two last. You know some families run out, and I don't think Master ought to try to overturn the Lord's plans. Queen, let things take their course." "Who has put all this into your head ?" " Nobody put it into my head ! I should like to know where myeyes have been these many years ? I have n't been so near blind all my life. Don't you suppose I know what Mas- ter 's been after since you were eighteen months old ? Wasn't I standing by the bed when Hugh's mother died, and didn't I hear Master promise her that, when you were grown, you and Hugh should marry ? .Don't I know how your poor dying ipother cried, and wrung her hands, and said ' Harm would come of it all, and she hoped you would die while you were a baby?' She had, found out what Huntingdon temper was. Poor blessed saint ! what a life she did leadsbetween Miss Margaiet and Miss Igabella! It is no use'to shut your eyes to -it, Queen. You might just as well look at it at once. It is a sin for near kin like you and Hugh to marry, and you ought to set your face.against it. He is just his 'mother over again, and you will see trouble, as sure as your name is Irene, if you don't take a stand. Oh ! they are managing people! and the Lord have mercy on folks they don't like, for it is n't in Huntingdon blood to forgive or to forget anything. I am so thankful your Uncle Eric has come--he will help to stand between you and trouble. Ah! it is coming, Queen! it 's coming ! You did n't see how your father frowned when you would n't let Hugh kiss your I was'looking through the window, and saw it all. I have n't'had one hour's peace s~ e I dreamed of seeing you and your.mothe to- gether. Oh, my baby ! my baby ! thee is trouble and sorrow thickening for you; I kiow it. I have had a warning of it." She inclined her' head on one side, and rocked herself to and fro, much as did ewly Pelasgic Dodonides in, announcing oracular decrees. " You need not grieve about it; 'I want no-. body to stand between me and trouble. Be- side, Nellie, you. must remember that, in all my father does, he intends and desires to pro- mote my welfare and to make me happy."' "Did lie send you off to that boarding-scool for your happiness ? You were very happy there, wern't you? It is no use to try to blindfold me ; I have lived a little too long. Oh, my baby ! your white, white face, and big sorrowful blue eyes fellow me day and night ; I knew how it would be when you were barn. You came into this world among awful signs ! the sun was eclipsed ! chickens went to roost, as if. night had 'come; and I saw stars in the sky at two o'clock in the day ! Oh! I thought, sure enough, judgment-day .had come at last ; and when they put you in my arms I trembled so I could hardly stand. Maj God have mer- cy on you, Queen !" She. shuddered for a moment, as if in the presence of some . dread evil, and, rising, wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and left the room. Irene looked after her retreating form, smil- ing at the superstitious turn her thoughts had taken, then, dismissing the 'subject, she fell asleep, thinking of her uncle. A week passed, varied by few, incidents of interest; the newcomers became thoroughly. domesticated-the old routine was re-estab- lished. Hugh seemed gay and careless-hiunt- ing, visiting, renewing boyish acquaintances, and whiling away the, tine as inclination * M.ACARIA. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] MACARIA. MACARIA. prompted. He had had a long conversation with his uncle, and the result was that; for the present, no allusion was made to the future. In Irene's presence the subject was tempora- rily tabooed. She knew that the project was not relinquished-was only veiled.til a conve- nient season, and, giving to the momentary lull its full value, she acquiesced, finding in Eric's society .enjoyment and resources alto- gether unexpected, Instinctively they seemed, to comprehend each other's character, and while both were taciturn and undemonstra- tive, a warm affection sprang up between them. On Sunday. morning, as the family group sat~ around' the breakfast-table 'waiting for Hugh, who lingered, as usual, over his second cup of chocolate, Mr. Mitchell suddenly laid down the fork with which he had been describ- ing a series of geometrical figures on the fine -damask, and said : "I met ayoung man in Brussels, who interested me extremely, and in connection with whom I venture the pre- diction that, if he lives, he will occupy a con- spicuous position in the affairs of his country. He is, or was, Secretary of Mr.'Campbell, our Minister to ---, and they were both on a visit to Brussels when I 'met them. His name is Aubrey, and he told me that he lived here. His talents are of the first order ; his ambition unbounded, I should- judge ; .and his patient, laborious application certainly surpasses any- thing I have ever seen. It happened that a friend of mine, from London, was prosecuting certain researches among the MS. archives at Bruesels, and here, immersed in study, lie says he found the .secretary, who completely dis- tanced him in his investigations, and then, with unexpected generosity, placed his notes at my friend's disposal. His industry is almost in- credible. Conversing with Campbell concern- ing him, I learned that he was a protege of the minister, who spoke of his future in singularly sanguine terms. He left him some time since to embark in the practice of law. . Do you know him, Huntingdon ?" "No, sir; but I know that his' father was sentenced to the gallows, and Only; saved him- self from it by cutting his miserable throat and cheating the law." The master of the 'house thrust back his chair violently, crushing one of Paragod's in- nocent paws as he crouched on the carpet, and overturning a glass which shivered into a dozen fragments at his feet. Irene understood the scowl on his brow, but only'she possessed the clew, and, lazily sipping his chocolate, Hugh'added: " I recollect him very well as a-boy; he always had a bookish look, and I met imn one day on the boulevard at Paris. He was talking to an attachd of the -American Legation as I camel up, and took no more notice of me than if I had been'one of the paving-stones. I could not avoid addhiring the cool sublimity of his manner, and as-I had snubbed him at school- long ago, I put out my hand and said: ' Howdy-do, Aubrey ; pray, when did you cross the water?' He bowed as frigidly as Czar Nicholas, and, without notic- ing my hand, answered: ' Good-morning, Mr. Seymour ; I have been in Europe two years,' and walked on. 'The day after I got home I met him going up the court-house steps, and looked him full in the face ; he just' inclined his head, and passed me. Confound it ! he 's as proud as if he had found a patent of nobility in digging among Belgic archives." " Nature furnished him with one many years since," replied Eric. " Yes; and his coat-of-arms should be jack- ketch and a gallows !" sneered Mr. Hunting- don. Looking at his watch he said, as if wishing to cut the conversation short : "Irene, if you intend to go to church to- day, it is time that you had your bonnet on. Hugh, what will you do with yourself ? Go with Eric and your cousin?" " No, I 'ather think I shall 'stay at home with you. After European cathedrals, our American churches seen excessivelyhplain." Irene went to her room pondering the con- versation. She thought it remarkable that, as long as she had been at home, she had never seen Russell, even on the street. Unlocking her writing-desk, she took out a tiny note which had accompanied a check for two hundred dollars, and had reached her a few months before she left boarding-school. The firm, round, manly hand ran as follows: " With gratitude beyond all expression for the favor conferred on my mother and myself, some years since, I now return to Miss Hun- tingdon the money 'which I have ever i-egard- .ed as a friendly loan. Hoping that the future will afford me some opportunity of proving my appreciation of her great kindness, " I remain, most respectfully, " Her obliged friend, "RUSSELL AUBREY. ",NEW YORK, September 5th." She, was conscious of a feeling of regret that the money had been returned; it was pleasant to reflect on the fact that she had laid him under obligation ; now it all seemed cancelled. She relocked the desk, and, draw- ing on her gloves, joined her uncle at the car- riage. Her father accompanied her so rarely that she scarcely missed him, and during the ride, as Eric 'seemed abstracted, she leaned 'back, and her thoughts once more reverted to the unfortunate topic of the breakfast-table. Arriving at church later than was her wont, she found the family' pew occupied by stran- gers, and crossed the aisle to share- a fiend's, but at that. instant a tall form rose in Mr. Campbell's long-vacant pew, stepped into the aisle, and held open the door., She drew back to suffer her uncle to limp in and layeaside his crutches, saw him give his hand to the stranger, and, sweeping her veil aside as she entered, she saw Russell quietly resume his seat at the end of the pew. ,Startled beyond measure, she looked at him intently, and almost wondered that she recog- nized him, he had changed so materially since the day on which she stood with him before his mother's gate. Meantime the service com- menced, she gave her hymn-book to her uncle, and at the - same moment Russell found thej place, and handed her one of two which lay near him. As she received it their eyes met, looked fixedly into each other, and she held out her hand. He took it, she felt his fingers tremble as they dropped hers, and then both faces bent over the books. When they knelt side by side, and the heavy folds of her elegant dress -swept against him, it seemed a feverish dream to her ; she could not realize , at last, they had met again, and her heart t so fiercely that she pressed her hand upon 7deding lest he should hear its loud pulsa- 4# it ,Lowering her veil, she drew her costly et apery about her and leaned ,back;~ I dhe Athem was chanted, the solemn or- s a hushed themselves, the minister . g4 he pulpit, and his dull tones fell 3p he .' brain meaningless as the dry ( o leaves in an autumn wind. W.#., h Qflthat tall, broad-shouldered, aa d'figure, replete with vig- e p igth; the massive, finely- 1racefully poised, like' ,. x pM j - all, the olive-pale, , y beard, with regular ?d hl i't.fully cut, like those af, ~Pe.venuto Celhini left Y1o p .turn which way we at ittoned to the drgy3m b sed over the 1 *o'"pyg praised and in Itnas egrwell said: e(t y .l he soul, n AAA m . irm A i, s eady as- ly held the pew-door open; both bowed with stately grace, and she walked down the aisle. She heard Russell talking toher uncle just be- hind her, heard the inquiries concerning,his health, the expression .of' pleasure at meeting again, the hope which Eric uttered that he should see him frequently during his stay in WT - .' Without'eveb a glance over her shoulder, she proceeded to the carriage,.where her uncle soon joined her-taking the front seat instead of sharing the back one, as is cus- tomary. He scrutinized his niece's. counte- nance, but it baffled him, as on the first night of his arrival; the serene, colorless face show- ed not the slightest symptom of emotion of any kind. Neither spoke till they approached the cottage on the road-side, then she extended her hand and said, indifferently : "Your European acquaintance, the ,quon- dam secretary, formerly lived in that little three-roomed 'house hid among the vines fon- der." "When I spoke of him this morning you did not mention having known him. 1 inferred from your manner that he wits a stranger to you." " He is a stranger now. I knew him long ago, when we were children, and met.him to- day for the first time in.some years." ." There is something peculiarly command- ing in his appearance. He impresses me with respect and involuntary admiration, such as no man of' his ,age ever excited before, and I have travelled far and wide,'and have seen the lordliest of many lands." "Years have greatly changed 'him. He is less like his mother than when I knew him in his boyhood." " He is an orphan, I learned from Camp- bell." '" Yes." She pulled the check-cord, and, as the driv- er, stopped, she leaned out of the window, pointing to a mossy tuft on the margin of. the little brook just at the fiot of the hill. " Andrew, if you are not afraid to leave your horses, get me that cluster of violets just. this side of the sweet-gum tree. They are the very earliest I have seen." le gathered them caretlly and placed them an the daintily-gloved,) out-stretched hand. ,he bent over them an instant, then divided JItjtiny bunch with her uncle, saying: "Spring ihssappened its blue eyes at last." She met his searching gaze as calmly as the flowerets, and as they now neared the house, he forbe any further allusion to the subject, which he. shrewdly suspected engaged her ionghts gpite as fully as his own. ., _T t " .....--.. Om$. hfu 910mI1 PTER XVII. '" gg igo of having heard h im. 76 77 page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 MACARIA. "6Irene, my child, it is one o'clock." Without looking up she raised her hand to- ward the clock on the mantle, and answered, coldly: "You need not sit up to tell me the time of night; I have a clock here. Go to sleep, Uncle Eric." He rested his shoulder against the door- facing, and, leaning on his crutches, watched her. She sat there just as he had seen her sever- il times before, with her arms crossed on the table, the large celestial globe drawn near, as- tronomical catalogues scattered about, and a thick folio open before her. She wore a loose wrapper, or robe de chambre, of 'black velvet, lined with crimson silk and girded with a heavy cord and tassel. The sleeves were very full, and fell away from the arms, exposing them from the dimpled elbows, and rendering their pearly whiteness more apparent by contrast with .the sable hue of the velvet, while the broad round collar was dressed smoothly down, revealing the polished turn of the throat., The ivory comb lay on the table, and the unbound hair, falling around her shoulders, swept over the back of her chair and trailed on the carpet. A miracle of statuesque beauty was his queenly niece, yet he could not.look at-her without a vague feeling of awe, of painful apprehension; and, as he stood watching her motionless figure in its grand yet graceful pose, be sighed invol- untarily. Slhe rose, shook back her magnifi- cent hair, and approached hin. Heicr eyes, so like deep, caln azure lakes, crossed by no ripple, met his, and the clear, ,pure voice echoed through the still room. Uncle Erie, I wish you would not sit up on my account; I do not like to be watched." "Irene, your father forbade your studying until this hour. You will accomplish nothing but the ruin of your health." "1How do you know that ? Do statistics prove astronomers short-lived ? Rather the contrary. I commend you to the contempla- tion of their longevity. Good-night, Uncle ; starry dreams to you." " Stay, child ; what object have you in view in all this laborious investigation ?" Are you sceptical of the possibility of a devotion to science merely for science's sake ? Do my womanly garments shut me out of the holy of Holies, debar me eternally from sacred arcana, think you t Uncle Eric, once for all, it is not my aim to- brush with extreme flounce The circle of thelciences.e" I take my heart, my intellect, my- life, and offer all upon the altar of its penetralia. You men doubt women's credentials for work like mine ; but this intellectual bigotry and mo- nopoly already trembles before the weigh of stern and positive results which women lay before fou-data for your sp'eculationa-alms for your calculation. In glorious attestation of the truth of female capacity to grapple with some of the most recondite problems of science stand the names of Caroline Herschel, Mary Sommerville, Maria Mitchel, Emma Willard, Mrs. Phelps, and the proud compliment paid to Madame Lepaute by Clairant and Lalande, who, at the successful conclusion of their gigantic computations, declared: 'The assist- ance rendered by her was such that, without her, we never should have dared to undertake the enormous labor in which it was necessary to calculate the distance of each of the two planets, Jupiter and Saturn, from the comet, separately for every degree, for one hundred and fifty years.' Uncle Eric, remember- '"--Wihcso cures the plague, Though twice a we en. duni io'called a leech ho rights a find's fuiances is exc used For touching coppers, though her hands be white.'" She took the volume she had been reading, selected several catalogues from the mass, and, lighting a small lamp, passed her uncle and mounted the spiral staircase leading to the observatory. He watched her tall form slowly ascending, and, in the flashing light of the lamp she carried, her black dress and floating hair seemed to belong to some veritable Ura- nia-some ancient Egyptic Berenice. He heard her open the glass door of the observa- tory, then the flame vanished, and the click of the lock fell down the dark stairway as she turned the key. , With a heavy sigh the crip-, pie returned to his room, there to ponder the singular character of the woman whom he had just left, and to dream that he saw her trans- planted to the constellations, her blue eyes brightening into stars, her waving hair braid-' -ing itself out into brilliant, rushing comets. The night was keen, still, and cloudless, and, as Irene locked herself in, the chill from the marble tiles crept through the carpet to her slippered feet. In -the centre of the apart- ment rose a wooden shaft bearing a brass plate, and to this a telescope was securely fastened. 'Two chairs and an old-fashioned oaken table, with curious carved legs, com- prised the furniture. She looked at the small siderial clock, and finding that a quarter of an hour must elapse before she cou d make the desired observation, drew a chair to the table and seated herself. She took from the drawer a number of loose papers, and prepared the, blank-book for registering the observation; then laid before Tier: a slate covered with figures, and began to run over the calculation. At the close of fifteen minutes she placed her- self at the telescope, and waited patiently .for the appearance of a small star which gradu- ally entered the field; she noted the exact moment and position, transferred the reist to the register, and after a time went back to slate and figures. Cautiously she went over the work, now and then having recourse to pen and paper; she reached the bottom of the MACARIA. 79 slate and turned, it over, moving one finger tively interdieted all observations after twelve along the lines. The solution was wrong ; a o'clock. Most girls patronize certain branches mistake had been made somewhere; she press- of investigation with fitful, spasmodic vehe- ed, her palm on her forehead, and thought mence, or periodic"impulses of enthusiasm; over the whole question; then began again, but Irene knew no intermission of interest, The work was tedious, the calculation subtle, she hurried over no details, and, when the and she attached great importance to the re- weather permitted, never failed to make her suit; the second',examination was fruitless as nightly visit to the observatory. She loved the first ; time was wearing away; where could her work, as a painter his canvas, or the the error be ? Without hesitation she turned sculptor the marble one day to enshrine his back for the third time, and commenced at the cherished ideal;- and she prosecuted it, not as first, slowly, patiently threading the maze. a mere pastime, not as-a toy, -but as a life-long Suddenly she paused and smiled ; there was labor, for the labor's sake. To-night, as her the mistake, glaring enough, now. She cor- drooping palms nestled-to eae'hother, and her rented it; and working the sum through, found eyes, searched the vast jewelled dome above, the result perfectly accurate, according fully Thought, unwearied as the theme it pondered, with the tables of Leverrier by which she flew back-to the dim gray dawn of Time, .was computing. She carefully transferred the "When the morning-stars sang together, and, operation from slate to paper, and, after num- all the sons of God shouted for joy." In pan- bering the problem with great particularity, oramic vision she crossed the dusty desert of placed all in the drawer and turned the key. centuries, and watched with Chaldean shep- It was three o'clock ; she opened the door, herds the pate, sickly light of waning moons drew her chair out on the little gallery, and on Shinar's plains; welco ed the gnomon sat down, looking toward the East. The air (first-born o the .great fadly of astronomic' was crisp but still, unswayed by current waifs; apparatus);1toiled over 'a O gloried in the no sound swept its crystal waves save the low, Zaros ;.st o at the armillar sphere of Ja,'in monotonous distant thunder of the Falls, and the days eConfucius; stu edhwith oTales, the deep, cloudless blue ocean of space glowed Anaxima r, and Pythag as ; entered the with its numberless argosies of stellar worlds. sacred p 'ts of the sc ool of Crotona, Constellations which, in the purple twilight, hand in h'i with.Damo, t e earliest woman stood sentinel at the horizon, had marched in who bowed devotee at the strry shrine, and, majesty to mid-heaven, taken reconnoissance with her,1, w s initiated intoits esoteric doc- thence, and as solemnly passed 'the opposite ,trines; puzzled with Meton. over his lunar horizon to report to watching gazers in an- cycle ; exhltkd in Hipparchus' 'gigantic labor, other hemisphere. ",Scouts stood upon every the first collection of tables, tie earliest relia- headland, on every plain;" mercilessly the in- bIn catalogues;- walked through the Alexan- quisitorial eye of science followed the heaven- drine school of savans, misled by Ptolemy'; ly wanderers; there was no escape from the and bent with Uliegh Beigh pver the charts eager, sleepless police who kept vigil in every at Samarcand. In imagination she accompa- clime and country ; as' well call on Buotes to nied [Copernicus and Tycho-irahe, and wres- give o'er his care of Ursa-Major, as hopelessly tied with Kepler in the titanic struggle that attempt to thrust him from the ken. or Cyno- ended in the' discovery of the magnificent trin- sura. From her earliest recollection, and es- ity of astronomic laws framed by the Divine pecially from tie hour of entering school, as- Architect when the first star threw its faint tronomy and mathematics had'exerted'an over- shimmer-' through the silent wastes of space. mastering influence upon Irene's mind. The Kepler's three laws were an unceasing wonder ordinary text- books only increased her inter; and joy to her, and with fond, womanly pride est in the former science, and while in New she was wont to recur to a lonely observatory' York, with the aid of the professor of astrono- in Silesia, where, before Newton rose upon my, she had possessed herself of all the most the world, one of her own sex, Maria Cunitz, eminent works bearing upon the subject, send- launched upon the stormy sea of scientific liter- ing across the Atlantic for tables and seleno- ature the'" Urania Propitia." The Congress graphic charts which were 'not to be procured of Lilienthal possessed far more of interest for in America. her. than any which ever sat in august council Under singularly favorable auspices she had over the fate of nations, and the na.uies of pursued her studies, perseveringly, methodi- Herschel, Bessel, Argelander,.Struve, Arago, cally, and, despite her father's prohibition, Leverrier,:and Maedler were sacred as Per- indefatigably. He had indulged, in earlier. sian telefn. From the "Almagest" of Ptole- years, a penchant for the same science, and mf, and the " Comstographie"' of Pingrd,'to cheerfully facilitated her progress by rear- the "Mdcanique Odleste," she had searched raging the observatory so as to allow full an'd toiled ; and now the sublimQ and almost play fr her fine telescope ; but, though proud bewildering speculations of Maedleir held her. of her proficiency, he objected most strenu- spell-bound. The delicate, subtle, beautiful ously to her devoting so, large a share of her. problem' of parallax had'heretofore exerted time and attention to this study, and had posi- the strongest fascination over her; but this page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] so MALARIA. magnificent hypothesis of a "central sun," adoration which no language could adequately from the monarch of computations at Dorpat, coney she gazed upon nebula, and suns, and seized u on berimagination with.painful tenac- systems ; and with the solemn reflection, that ity rom th hour when Kepler stretched some, like Cassiopeia's lost jewel, might be per- out his.curious fingers, feeling for the shape of Iishing, wrapped in the last conflagration, while planetary orbits, or Leverrier groped through their light still journeyed to her, she recalled abysses of dai'kness for the unknown Nep- the feverish yet sublime vision of the great tune, which a skeptical world declared existed German dreamer: "Once we issued suddenly only in his mathematical calculations, no such from, the middle of thickest night into, an darin or stupendous speculation had. been aurora borealis-the, herald of an expiring bred ed as this which Maedler threw down world---and we found, throughout this eyeleof from his I ussian observatory. Night after solar systems, that a day of judgment had in. night she gazed upon the pleiades, singling deed arrived. The suns had sickened, and out Alcyone, the brilliant central sun of the the planets were heaving, rocking, yawning mighty astral system, whose light met her in convulsions; the subterraneous waters of eager eyes after the long travel of five hundred the great deeps were breaking up, and light- and thirty-seven years; and, following in the nings that wereten diameters of a world in footsteps of the great speculator, she tried to length ran along from zenith to nadir; and, rahp the result,, that the period of one revo- here and there, where a sun should have been, utionof our suni and system around that glit- we saw, instead, through, the, misty vapor, a tearing centre was eighteen million two hun- gloomy, ashy-leaden corpse of a solar bod' dre thousand years. that sucked in flames from the perishing world, The stony lips of geology asserted that our but gave out neither light nor heat.... . glope was growipg old, thousands of genera- Then came eternities of twilight that revealed tions had fallen asleep in the bosom of mother- but were not revealed; on the right hand and earth, the ashes of centuries had gathered on the left towered mighty constellations, that npon the past, were creeping over the present ; by self-repetitions and answers from afar, that and yet, in the faceof catacombs, and mum- by counter-positions built ip triumphal gates, mies, and mouldering monuments, chiselled in whose architraves, whose archways-horizon- the infancy of the human rate, mathematics tal, upright-rested, rose at altitude by spans unrolled her figured scroll, .and proclaiined -that seemed ghostly from infinitude.- With- thatlTime had but begun ; that chiliasns imust out measure were the architraves, past nun- elapse, that mons on mons must roll away, be- ber were the archways, beyond memory the fore the first revolution of the starry universe gates. Suddenly, as thus we rode from infiu- 'could b9 completed about its far-off Alcyone ite to infinite, and tilted over abyssmal worlds, centre. , What mastered human labors, what a mighty ary arose, that systems more myste- need of trophies of human genius, of national rious, that worlds 'more billowy, other heights grandeur, or individual, glory? Eighteen and other depths, were coming, were nearing, illions of years would level al in one huge, were at hand. Then the angel threw up his common, shapeless ruin. In comparison with glorious hands to the heaven of heavens, say- the mighty mechanism of the astral system, ing: ' End is there none to the universe of the solar seemed a mere tiny cluster ofjewels God. Lo I also, there is no beginning,. ."' l set in some infinite abyss; t e sun shrank into Among the mysteries of the Crotona school insignificance, the moon waned, the planets the Sanian sage had taught the "music of the became little gleaming.points of light, such as spheres," and -to-night Irene dwelt upon the her diaspond-rng threw off' when held under thought of that grand 'choir of innumerable gas-cha deniers. Perish the microcosm in the worlds, that mighty orchestra of tarry systems, limitless macrocolm,.and snk .the feeble earth- "where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, ly segregate in the boundless, rushing, choral The pealing anthem swells the note of praise" aggregation !, She was oppressed by thestu- pendous nature of the problem; human reason unceasingly to the Lird of glory, till her firm andimagination reeled under the vastness of lipsrelaxed, and the immortal Words of Shaks- he suject which they essayed to contemplate peare fell slowly from them. and measure ; and to-night,' as she pondered aook how the floor of heaven iin silent awe the gigantic, overwhelming laws Is tick inlaid with patines of.bright gold: of God's great Cosmos, by some subtle associa- 'There 's not the smallest orb which thou behongt g But in his notion like an angfel sings, tionthere flashed upon her memory the sybil- dill quiripg td the young-eyed oherubinis. lie insc 'Intion orithe Temple of 'Neith at Sais : Such harmony is in Inimortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay "I aml all that has been, all that is, all that . oth grossly close it in, we can not hear it." will he. No mortal has ever raised the veil _ which conceal~ e and theefruit I e pro. That the myriad membersh ord th hiig duced is the sun." . ad Maedler, with teles-, archipelago were peopd wit odrofit- espic insight, clinmhed by mathenratical ladders ligest beings, differig from ur rae eve saa 'to the starry adyta of nanye, and trinphntly sthe planetsh 'difertine manitdoub and asysi.a raised the ,mystic veil Wit a feel.ng ostctrhenetaedotaou;aids I MACARIA. feeble Fancy struggled to grasp and compre- hend the ultimate destiny of the -countless hosts of immortal creatures (to which our earthly races, with their distinct, unalterable types, stood but as one small family circle . amid clustering worlds) her weariedbrain and human heart bowed humbly, reverently, wor- shippingly before the God of Revelation, who can " bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion; bring forth Mazza- roth in his season, and 'guide Arcturus with his sons." Kneeling there, with the twinkling light of stars upon her upturned face, she prayed earnestly 'for strength and grace and guidance from on High, that she might so live and govern herselfthat, when the season of earthly probation ended, she could fearlessly pass to her eternal bodme and joyfully meet the awful face of Jehovah. ' 1' - The night was almost spent; she knew from the " celestial clock-work " that Day blushed just beyond the horizon i that, ere long, silver- gray fingers 'would steal up the quiet sky, 'parting the sable curtains ; and,. taking the lamp, she hung the.observatory-key upon her, girdle, and glided noiselessly down the stair- way to her own apartment. . Paragon slept on the threshold, and raised his head to greet her'; she stooped, stroked his silky ears, and closed the door, shutting him out. Fifteen minutes later she,.too, was sleep- ing soundly; and an hour and a half' fterward, followed by that faithful guardian " dweller of the threshold," she swept down.the steps, and, amid the matin-chant of forest-birds, thounted Erebus: and dashed off at full gallop for the customary ride. No matter what occurred to prevent her sleeping, she invariably rode be- fore breakfast when the weather permitted; and as'her midnight labors left few hours for' repose, she generally retired to her room im- mediately after dinner and indulged in the luxury of a two hours' nap. Duch was a por- tion of the regimen she had prescribed for.her- self on her return from schoo:, and which she suffered only the inclemency of the weather to iafrin'e. CHAPTER XVIII. "Surely,. Uncle Eric, there' is room enough in this large, airy house of oprs to accommo- date' my mother's brother ? I thought 'it was fully settled that you were to reside with' us. There is no good reason why you should not. Obviously, we have a better claim upon you than anybody else; why doom yourself to the1 loneliness of a separate household ? Recon-I sider the matter."' "Noertenter. it is better that I should have. a quiet little home of my own, free from the in- evitable restraint incident to residing. 'under the roof of another. My recluse 'nature and habits unfit me for the gay young associates 6 81 who throng this house, making earnival-time of all seasons." " I will change the library, and give you two, robms on this floor,,.to avoid stair-steps; I will build you a wall of partition, and have your doors and windows hermetically sealed against intrusion. No sound of billiard-balls or dan- cing feet, or noisy laughter.shall invade your sanctuary. Not St. Simeon, of isolated memo- ry, could desire more complete seclusion and solitude than that with which I shall indulge you." " It is advisable that I should go." "I appreciate neither the expediency nor necessity." " Like all other crusty, self-indulgent bache- lors, I have many whims,.which I certainly do not expect people to bear patiently." " You are neither crusty nor self-indulgent, that I have discovered ; as for your whims, I have large charity, and will humor them." " Irene, I want a house of my own, to, which I can feel privileged to invite such guests, such companions, as I-deem congenial, irrespective of the fiats of,,would-be sbeial autocrats and the social ostracism of certain cliques." She was silent a moment, 'but met his;keen look without the slightest embarrassment, and yet when she ,spoke he knew, from her eyes and voice, that she fully comprehended his meaning. " " Of course, it is a matter which you must determine for yourself. You .ae .the best judge of what conduces to your happiness; but I am sorry, very'sorry, Uncle Eric, that, in order to promote it, you feel it necessary to re-' move from 'our domestic circle. I shall miss you painfully." " Pardon me, but I doubt the last clause. You lean on no one sufficiently to note thesab- sence of their support." "Do you'recognize no difference between a parasitic clinging and an affectionate friend- ship-a valued companionship based on conge- aial tastes and sympathies?" " Unjuestipnably, - admit, and appreciate the dstinction; but you do not meet me fall- eyed, open-handed, on this conlmon platform of congeniality, strengthened as it is, or should be, by near relationship. You, confront me always with your emotional nature mail-elad,: and make our intercourse a mere intellectual fencing-match. Now, mark you, J have .no, wish to force your confidence; that isa curious and complex lock, dhich only the golden key of perfect loe and trust should 'ever open ; and I simply desire to say that your constitu- tional reticence or habitual reserve precludgs the hope ormy rendering you either assistance or sympathy "by my "continued' presence." or Uncle hEric, iarises from no want of frust in you, but in the consciousness that only I' can help myself., I have.more than once heard; you quote Wallenftein'; have so'soon forgotten his.words: page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 MACARIA. "' Permit her own will. For there are sorrows,' Where, of necessity the soul must be Its own support. I strong heart will rely on its own strength alone.' "But, my dear girl, you certainly are no' Thekla ? ' Was there prescience in his question, and a quick recognition of it in the quiver which ran across her lips and eyelids? " The Fates forbid that I should ever be !" "Irene; in the name and memory of your mother, promise me one thing: that if sorrows assail you, and a third party can bear aught on his shoulders, you will call upon me." " A most improbable conjunction of circum- stances; but, in such emergency, I promise to afflict you- with a summons to the rescue. Uncle Erie, I think I shall never. gall any shoulders but my own with' the burdens which God may see fit to lay on them in the coming years." He looked pained, puzzled, and irresolute; but she smiled, and swept her fingers over the' bars of her bird-cage, toying with its golden- throated inmate. " Have you any engagement for this morn- ing ," "None, sir. What can I do for you ?" " If. you feel disposed, I should be glad to have. you accompany me to town; 'I want - your assistance in selecting a set of china for my new hemne. Will you gd.?" A shadow drifted over the colorless tranquil face as she said, sadly: "4Uncle Eric, is it utterly useless for me to attempt to persuade you to relinquish this proj- ect -and remain with us ?" ""Utterly useless,'my dear child." "Iwill get my bonnet, and join you at the carriage." cc Very near the cottage formerly occupied by Mrs. Aubrey stood a small brick house, par- tially concealed by'poplarand sycamore trees, and surrounded by a heat, well-arranged flow- er-garden. This was the place selected and purchased by the cripple for his future home. Mr. Huntingdon had opposed the -whale pro- ceeding, and invited his brother-in-law to reside with him; but beneath the cordial sur- face the guest felt that other sentiments rolled deep and strong. He had little in common with his sister's husband, and only a warm and increasing affection for his niece now induced him to ettle in W - . Some necessary' repairs had been made, some requisite arrange- ments..completed' regarding seatst, and to- day the 'finishing touches were given to the snug little bachelor establishment. When it was, apparent that no arguments would avail to alter the decision, Irene -ceased to speak of it, and busied herself in various undertakings to' promote her uncle's' comfort. She made pretty *hite curtains-for his library-windows, knitted bright-colored worsted larAp-mats, and hemmed and marked the contents of the linen- closet. The dining-roop pantry she took un- der her special charge, and at the expiration of ten days, when .the master took formal pos- session, she accompanied him, and enjoyed the pleased surprise with which he received her donation'of cakes, preserves, catchups, pickles, etc., etc., neatly stowed away on the spotless shelves. "T shall make a weekly pilgrimage to this same pantry, and take an inventory of its con- tents. I 'intend to take good care of you, though you have moved off,.Diogenes-like." She stepped forward, and arranged some glass jars which stood rather irregularly; " How prim and old-maidish you are!" laughed her uncle. "I never could bear to see 'things scattered in that helter-skelter style ; I like bottles, jars, plates, and dishes drilled into straight lines, not leaning in and out, in that broken-rank fashion. 1 am not given to boasting, but I will say that no housekeeper can show a nicer, neater pantry than my o n." " What have you in that basket ?" " Flowers from the greenhouse. Come into the library, and let me dress your new vases." He followed her into the next room,'and watched her as she leisurely and tastefully disposed her flowers; now searching the basket for a sprig of evergreen, and now bending ob- stinate stems to make stiff clusters lean loving- ly to each other. Placing the vases on the mantle, she stepped back to inspect the effect, and said, gravely : " How beautiful they are ! Let me always dress your vases, Uncle. Women have a knack of intertwining stems and grouping colors; our fingers were ordained for all such embroidery on the carse gray serge of stern, practical every-day'life. You men are more at home with state ; papers, machine-shops, 'navies, armies, political economy, and - agricultural chemistry than with fragile azaleas and golden- dusted lilies." Before he could-reply she turned and asked: " What do these large square boxes in the hall contain ?".- " Books which I gathered in Europe and selected in New York ; among them many rare old volumes, which you have never seen.' Come down next Monday, and help me 'to number and shelve them; afterward, we will read them together. Lay aside your bonnet, and sped the evening with me." No, I must go back ; Hugh sent. me word that he' would bring company to tea." He took her hand and drew her close.to his chair, saying gently: "Ah, Irene ! I wish I 'could keep you al- ways. You would be happier here, in this little unpretending home of mine, than presid- ing as mistress over that great palatial house on the hill yonder." " There you mistake me most entirely. I . love, better than any other place on earth, my aJ, I I MACARIA. .83 stately,. elegant, beautiful home. Not Fqn- -I suppose ? He returned last week, and, by tainebleau, Windsor, Potsdam;. not ,the vine- the way, I half-expeoted to meet him to-day ; yards of Shiraz, or the gardens;of Damascus, well, I was talking to him about Aubrey, and could *in me from it. I love every tree, every he' laughedhis droll, chuckling laugh, snapped creeper,'every foot of ground from the front- his bony fingers in my face, and said: gate to the brink of the creek. If you sup- "Aye !.aye, Harris ! let him alone ; hands'off! pose that I am not happy. there,- you err and I will wager my new office against your old egregiously." one that ie stepsinto your honor's shoes.. Now " My intuitions rarely deceive ine.? * you know perfectly well that 'Carapbell has no "At least,.Uncle Eric, they play you false in more enthusiasm than a brick wall or a roll'of this instance. Why, sir, I would not give my red tape; but he is as proud of'the young man grind old avenue of primeval elms for St. as if he were his son. Do you, know that he Peter's nave. Your intuitions are full of cob- has taken him into partnership ?" webs ; have them well swept-and dusted before " Pshaw ! he will never comi -I see you Monday. Good-night, Uncle; I pas." - must really go. If you find we ave forgotten ." But he has; I read the notice. in this anything, send Willis up for it." morning's paper. Pass he madeira. The fact He kissed her fingers tenderly, and, taking is, we must not allow our old' prejudices to her basket, she left him alone in his new home. make us unjust. I know Aubrey has struggled A few weeks passed without incident; Hugh hard ; he had much to contend_-" went to New Orleans to visit friends, and Mr. " Hang Campbell and the partrie'rship ! ' He Huntingdon was frequently absent at the plan- will find that he has played the fool before he station. gets rid of his precious pet. Miss Grace, do One day he expressed the desire that Judge let me fill your glass,? My young prude there Harris' family .should dine with him, and ad- at the head of the table just sips hers as if she ded several gentlemen, "to make the. party feared it was poisofled. Mrs. Harris, you have merry." 'Irene promptly ;issued the invita- no sherry; permitme." tons, suppressing the reluctance which filled " The ,young 'man's anteceded ts are most her heart ; for the young people were not fa- disgraceful, Mr. Huntingdon, andI told the vorites, and she dreaded Charlie's set speeches judge last night' that I was surprised at Mr. and admiring glances, not less than his mother's Campbell's infatuation," chimed in Mrs. Har- endless disquisitiois on fashion and the pedi- ris over her golden sherry. . gree of all the best families of W - and " Whose antecedents, Mother ?" its vicinage. Grace had grown.up very, pretty, "My dear, we were speaking of Russell highly accomplished, even-tempered, gentle- Aubrey, and the stigma on his name and hearted, but fulr of her mother's'fashionable character." notions, and,:withal, rather weak and frivo- " Oh, yes ! Hia. father was sentenced to IOus. She and Irene were constantly thrown be hung, I believe, and committed suicide 'in. into each other's society, but no warmth of prison. But what a splendid,idark-looking feeling existed on either side. Grace could man he' is I Decidedly the niost superb figure not comprehend her, companion's character, and eyes in W.------. Shy, though ! shy as a and Irene wearied of her gay, heedless chit- school-girl; will cross the street to avoid meet- chat, As the latter anticipated, the day proved ing a body. 'When he finds that) he can not very tiresome ; the usual complement of music dodge you, he gives you the full benefit of his was contributed by Grace, the expected quan- magnificent eyes, and bows as haughtily as tity of flattering nothings gracefully uttered Great Mogul. Maria Henderson goes into by her brother, the customary amount of exe- raptures over his figure. crable puns handed around the circle for'pat- With head slightly inclined, and eyes fixed ronage, and Irene gave the signal for dinner. on Mr. Blackwell's face, Irene had heard all Mr. Huntingdon prided himself on tis fine that passed, and as the gentleman paused in wines, and, after the decanters had circulated his harangue to drain his glass, she-rose and led freely, the gentlemen grew garrulous as mar- the way to the parlors. The gentlemen ad- ket-women. ' - journed to the smoking-room, and in a short ,Irene was gravely discussing the tariff ques- time Mrs. Harris ordered, her carriage, plead- tion with Mr. Herbert Blackwell (whom Mrs. ing an engagement with Grace's mantua- Harris pronounced the most promising young maker as anexcuse for leaving so early. With lawyer of her acquaintahde), and politely a feeling of infinite relief the hostess accom- listening.to his stereotyped reasoning,.when a panied them to the door,,saw the carriage scrap of' conversation at the opposite 'end of' descend the avenue, 'and; desiring one of the. the table attracted her attention.'- servants to have 'Erebus saddled at once, she " Huntinigdon, my dear fellow, I tell you I went to her r-oom and changed the rich dinner-'- never made a mistake in my life, when reading dress for her riding-habit.' ' As she sprang into people's minds; and if. Aubrey has -not the the paddle, and gathered up the reins,.ber huest legal intellect in W , I will throw father called from the open window, whence up my judgeship. You, have seen Campbell, issued curling wreath's of blue smoke: page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 MACARIA. "«Where now, Irene ?4' "lIam gOin to ride ; it threatened rain thi morning, and I was afraid'to'venture." He said something, but without hearing shi - rode off, and was soon out of Eight, leaving the town to the left, and taking the road tha woundl along the river-bank--the saie where years before, she' had cantered "wie Grace Hugh, and Charlie. It was a windless, sunny Ap 'il afternoon; trees were freshly robed in neWrborn fringy foliage, green and glistening. long rassy slopes looked like crinkled velvet starred with delicate -pale blue houstonias wandering woodbine trailed its coral trumppet. in and out of grass and tangled shrubs, and late- wood-azaleas loaed the air with their delicious, intoxicating'perfume. Irene felt un wontedly depressed; the day had wearied her she shook 'the reins, and the beautiful horse sprang on in a quick gallop. For a mile fir other they dashed alon' the river bank, and then, reining him up, sIne leaned'forward and drew a long, deep breath. The scene was su*passingly quiet and beautiful; on either side wooded hills came down, herd-like, to the edge of the stream, to lave their thirsty sides and listen to the continual solemn monotone of the foaming falls; here a small flock of sheep browsed on the young waving grass, and there contented-looking cows, with glossy satin skins, sauntered homeward-taking the road with as much precision as their Swiss sisters to the tune of Ranz des Vaches; the broad river sweeping down its rocky pavement, and, over all, a mellow April sky of'intense blue, with whiffs of, creamy vapor, sinuouss as floss silk. Close to the margin 9f the' river grew a luxu- riant mass of ivy, and now the dark shining foliage was flecked with tiny rosy buds and well-own waxen petals, crimped into fairy- like cups and tinted as no Sevres china ever -will be.j Urging Erebus into, the thicket, Irene broke as, many clusters as she could conveniently carry; dragged a long tangled wresth of late jasmine from its seclusion, fast- ened it across the pommel of the saddle, and turned her horse's head homeward. The'sight of these ivy cups recalled the memory of her Aupt Margaret; they had been her favorite flowers and as' thought now 'took another channel, she directed her way to the grave- yard., She always rode rapidly, and, ere long, , rebus' feet drew sparks from the rocky road leading up the hill-side to the cemetery-gate. Dismounting, she fastened the reins to one of the iron spikes, and, gathering the folds of'her habit ever her arm, carried her flowers to the family. burying-ground. It was a large square lot, enclosed Ey a handsome railing and tall gate, bearing the name of "Huntingdon1" in * silver letters. As- she approached,, she was surprised to find a lokv brick wall and1 beauti- fuli aew marble monument close to her father's lot, and occupying a space which had been ,filled with grass and weeds a few weeks pre- vibus. While she paused, wondering whose. s was tfe new monument, and resolved to ex- amine it, a tall form stepped from behind the e column aid stood, with folded arms, lookiiig e down at the grave. There was no niistaking t face or figure; evidently he was p naware 'of her presence, though she was near enough to ,ark the stern sorrow written on his'counte- y nance. - She- glided forward and opened the heavy .gate of her own enclosure; with' difli- culty she pushed it ajar, and with a sudden, sharp, clanging report it swung back, and the ; bolt slid to its rusty place. He lifted his eyes s then, and saw her standing a few yards from I him; the ricl soft folds of the Marie Louisse r blue riding-dress trailed along the ground; the blue velvet hat, with its, long drooping plume, had become loosened by the exercise, and, slipping back, left fully exposed the daz- zling white face and golden glory of waving I hair: She bowed, he returned the silent'token L of recognition, and'she moved forward to her s aunt's tomb, wreathing it with the flowers which Miss Margaret had loved so well. The sun was low, leaning upon the purple crest of a distant hill; the yellow light flashed over the forest of marble pillars, and their cold pol- f ished surfaces gave back the waning glaret, 1 throwing it off contemptuously, as if sunshine were aC mockery in that silent city of the dead.. Sombre sacred guardian, cedars extended their arms lovingly over the marble couches of -fair young sleepers in Gods Acre, and venerable willows wept over many a stela, ' whose insilption lichen-footed Time had ef- faced. ,--Here slept two generations of the Huntingdons, and the last scion of the proud old house stood up among the hoarded bones of her a-' estry, glancing round at the mose stained costly mausoleums, and noting the.. fact that the crowded lot had room for but two more, narrow beds-two niore silent citi- zens-her father and herself: It was a reflec- tion which she had little inclination to linger over, and, retaining a Ieautifuk cluster of ivy and jasmine, she left the enclosure; keeping her .eyes fixed on the ground. As she passed the new lot the gate swung opeu, #ud Russell stood before her. " Good-evening, Miss Huntingdon." "Good-evening, Mr. Aubrey." The name sounded strange and harsh as she uttered it, and involuntarily she paused-and held out her hand. He accepted it; for an instant the cold.fingers lay in his warm palm, and as she withdrew them he said, in the rich mellow voice which she had heard in the church': " Allow me to show you 'my another's monu- ment."' .He held the gate open,.and she entered and stood at his side. The monument was beauti- 'ful in its'severe simplicity-a pure, faultless shaft, crowned ,with a -delicately-chiselled wreath of poppy' leaves, and bearing these . I I I 'MACARIA. 85 I I words in gilt letters: ',Sacred tojhe memory of my mother, Amy Aubrey."' Just below, in black characters, " esurgarn ;" and, under- 'neath the whole, on' a finely-fluted scroll, the ,incription of St. Gilgen. After a silence .of .some moments.Russell pointed to thesingular and solemn words, and said, as if speaking rather to himself,than to her: - .I want to say ,Jways, with Paul El em- ming, 'I will be strong,' and therefore I placed- here the inscription which proved an evangel to him, that when .I - come to my mother's grave I. may be strengthened, not melted, by the, thronging of bitter memories." - She looked up as he spoke, and the melan- chbly splendor of the deep eyes'stirred her lieart as nothing had ever done before. "I have a few flowers left ; let ine lay them as an affectionate tribute, an 'in memorial' on yotr mother's tomb-for the olden time, the cottage-days, are as fresh in my recollec-' tion as in yours." She held out the woodland bouquet ; he took it, and strewed the blossoms along the broad base of the shaft, reserving only a small clus- ter of the rosy china-cups. Both'were silent ; bht, as she turned to go,';a sudden gust blew her hat from her head, the loosened conb fell upon the. grass, and down came the heavy masses of hair. She twisted them hastily into a, coil, fastened them securely, and received her hat from him,' with a cool: "Thank you, sir; when did you hear from Electra ?" They walked on to the cemetery-gate, and he answered : "'I have heard nothing for some weeks. Have you.any message? I am going to New York in a few days, to try to persuade her to return to W- . with me." . " I dou the, success of your mission ; W 'has little to tempt an artist like your cousin. Be' kind enough to tender her my love and best wishes for the realization of her artistic dreams." They had'reached the gate where Erebus waited, when Russell took off his hat reverent- ly, and, posted to the western sky all "aflane." Masses of purple, scarlet, gold,f amber, and pure, pale, opalie green blended in one magnificent conflagratidfi; and toward the zenith tortuous feathery braids and dashes of blood-red cirri, gleaming. through the mild, balmy air hike coral reefs in some breezeless oriental sea. ;" No soft, neutral, sober , qraim', there," said Irene, lifting her hand to the glowing cloud-panorama. He took up the quotation' promptly, and, added:' ' "' The Angel of the Sea' is abroad on his immemorial mission, the soft wings droop still with dew, and the shadows of their plumes falter on the hill; .strange laughings and glit- terings of silver streamlets, born suddenly, and twined about the'mossy heights ii trickling tinsel;,answein to them as they wave. The' coile locks 'hundred-headed hot' lea, no.menace. y9nder." He paused, ano'turing suddenly, with a piercing look-at'his companion, continued: "Miss Huntingdon, 'on what. anvils and wheels is the vapor pointed,' twisted, hammer-, ed, wl irled as- the potter's clay ? By what hands, is the incense of the-sea-built up into domes of marble ?"' I" see that you follow assiduously the beck of Nature's last, anointed hierophant, and 'go in and out .with the seer, even among the cherubim and seraphim of his metropolitan cathedral, with its 'gates of robk, pavements of cloud, choirs of stream, altars of snow, and vaults of purple, traversed by the continual stars.".. "Yes; I am a reverent student and warm' admirer of John Ruskin. I 'learned to love him first through the recommendations of.my cousin ;. then foi his gorgeos,.unapproachable word-painting." While they . talked, the brilliant pageant faded, the coral banks paled'to snowy lines,,as if the blue waves of air were foam-crested, and in, the valley befow rose the dusky outline of dark-haired, wan-browed, gray clad Twilight, stealing her'"'sober livers'. over the 'fluslied and fretted bosom of the murmuringriver. " You.have a long walk to town," said Irene, as, Russell arranged her horse's'reins. " I shall not find it long. It-is a fine piece of road, and the stars will be up to light it." He held' out his hand to . assist her ; she spran easily to the saddle, then leaned to- ward himevery statue-like curve and mould- ing of her proud ivory face stamping them- selves on his recollection as sloe spoke. "'Be so good as to hand me my glove ; I dropped it at your feet as I mounted. Thank you. Good-evening, Mr. Aubrey;, take my best wishes on your journey and its mission." "Good-by, Miss Huntingdon." He.raised his hat, and, -as she wheeled. off, the magnetic. handsome face followed, haunted her. Erebus was impatient, out of humor, and flew, up the next steep hill as if he, too, were -haunted. Glancing back as she' reached the summit, Irene saw the erect, stern,'solitary figurevat,- the extremity of the wooded vista, and in t-hat mystical dim light he looked a colossal.aveng- ing Viking. Once more, as in childhood, she hea-d the whirr of the loom of Destiny; 'and to-night, catching sight of the Parce, fingers, she knew that along tbe'silver warp of her life ran dark alien threads, interweaving all in one shape-' less, tangled- web. On through gathering glpom dashed horse and rider,' over the little gurglhng stream, through the gate, up thie dark, rayless avenue to thei door-siep. The blhiard-room was a blaze of light, and the, cheerful sound of mim. I . 0 page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] MACARIA:s gled voices came out at the open "window, to tell-that the gentlemen had not yet finished their game. Pausing in the 'hall, Iren&'lis- tened an instant to distinguish thi voices, then ascended the.long, easy staircase. The lamp threw a mellow radiance on the steps, and as she reached the landing Hugh caught 'her in his arms and kissed her warmly. 'Startled by his unexliected 'appearance, she recoiled' a step or two and asked, rather haughtily : " When did you get home ?" ",Only a few moments after you left the house. Do chance your dress quickly, and conte down.. I Yave a thousand things to' .say.. She waited'to hear no more, but disengaged herself and went to her room. " Now, child ! why will you do so ? What makes you stay out so late, and then come thundering back like a hurricane ? I never did like that hoi-se's great big saucy, shining, devilish eyes. I tell Andrew constantly I 'wish he would manage to break his legs, while he is jumping over all ihe fences on the place. You scare nie nearly to death about your rid- ing; I tell you, Beauty, that black satan will break your neck yet. Your grandfather was - flung from just such a looking brute, and dragged till he was.dead ; and some day that everlasting long hair of yours will drag you.to your grave. iere it is now, all streaming down your back; yes-just as I expected- not-a blessed hair-pin left in it; done galloped 'em all clean' out. You will ride.yourself into eternity. Sit down, and let me comb it out ; it is all in a tangle, like ravelled yellow silk." Nellie lboked -cloudy, moody, and'- her mis- tress offered no resistance to her directions. "Mass' Hugh 's come." "Yes; I know'it."s "But you don't know supper is almost ready, do you ? Presently you will hear your father's voice sounding like a brass trumpet down stairs, if you ar'n't ready. There ! John rings that bell as if he had the'dead to rafise !" "That will do, Aunt,.Nellie, only, give me a handkerchief." She went down, and met her father at the .dining-room door. ,- " Come, Queen ; we are waiting for you." He looked at her fondly, took her hand, and drew her to the table ; and, in after years, she recalled this occasion with mournful pleasure as the last on which he had-ever given her his pet name. . ,There are fatal days, indeed, In which the Tibrous years have taken-root So deeply;'that they quiver to their tops Whene'er you stir the dust of such a day." - CHAPTER XIX.s " Come out on the colonnade ; tlie air is de- licious." As he spoke, Hugh drew his cousin's arimn through his, and led- the way from the tea-table. "You had company to dine to-day ?" " Yes ; if I had known that you were com- ing home to-day, I would have postponed the invitation till to-morrow. . grace expressed much disappointment at your absence." " Indeed ! Of course I am duly grateful. What a pretty, sweet little creature she is'! . So sprightly, so vivacious, so ;winning'; so charmingly ignorant of 'Almacantar' and ' Azimuth,', and all stdch ' learned stupidity. Unlike some royal personages of my acquaint- ance, who are for ever soaring among the stars, she never stretches my' brains the hun- dredth part of an inch to comprehend her. 'e-. lightful prattle. Like. Dickens' ' Dora,' she regards any attempt to reason with her as a greater insult than downright scolding. Your solemn wo'shipper was also present, I be- lieve ?", . " To whom do you allude ?" " Your tedious, tiresome, pertinacious shad- 'ow, Herbert Blackwell, of course'! Do you know that I ,detest that manmost cordially:?"., "-For what reason ?"' "I really: do not feel in the mood to enu- merate all his peccadilloes and disagreeable traits; but it is supremely ridiculous to see the way in which he hovers round you, like one of those large black moths about the hall-lamp." " Come, come, Hugh ! Mr..Blackwell is a man whom I respect and esteem, and you shall not make him a target for your merriment." " Oh, doubtless ! my Czarina ! and, as a re- ward for' your consideration, he would fain confer on, you his distinguished hand and fort- une. It is quite a respectable farce to watch him watching you.", " I wishyou had a tithe of his industry and perseverance.- Did it. ever occur to you that life is given for nobler purposes: and loftier as- pirations than hunting, fishing, horse-racing,' gambling, and similar modes of murdering, time which you habitually patronize ? " You are too young to play the role of Mentor, and those rare red lips of yours were never meant for homilizing. Irene, how long do you intend to keep me in painful suspense ?" ~" I am not awafe that I have in any degree kept you in suspense." " At all events, you know thatyou torture me with cool, deliberate cruelty." "I deny your charge most solemnly." " My dear Irie, let us understand each other fully, for --." . "Nay, Hugh-be honest; there is no mis- apprehension whatever. We thoroughly un- derstand eachother already."- " You shall not evade me ; I have been pa- tient, and the time ,has come when we must talk of our futture.- Ikene, dearest, be gener- ous, and tell me when will you give me, irre- vocably, this hand, which. has been' promised to me from your infancy ?" v. MACARIA. - He took the hand and carried ittohis lips, but she forcibly withdrew it, and, disengaging her arm, said, emphatically: "Never, Hugh. Never." " How. can you trifle with me, Irene ? If you could realize how impatient I am for the happy day when I shall call you my wife, you would be serious, and fix an early. period for our marriage." - i 'a Hugh, why will you, affect to misconceive my meaning? ~ I am serious; I have pondered, long and well, a matter involving your life- long happiness and mine, and I tell 'you, most solemnly,,that I will never be your wife. L' Oh, Irene ! your promise,! your sacred promise I" . "1'Xnever gave it ! On the contrary, I have never failed to show you that my whole nature rebelled against the most unnatural relation forced' upon me. I can not, shall not, hold myself boun4 by the promise of another made when I was an unconscious infant. I know the family compact, sealed by my- father's word, at your mother's death-bed, making two little irresponsible children parties to a thor- oughly selfish, ignoble contract, which is re- volting to me. Your future and mine were adumbrated from my cradle, and that which only we could legitimately decide was usurped and predetermined. You have known, for years, that- I loathed the heartless betrothal and ignored its 'restrictions; my unalterable determination was very apparent when you returned from Europe. You were kept in no suspense ; you understood me then as fully as now;.and it is ungenerous, unmanly, to press a suit which you.can 'not fail to know is ex- tremely disagreeable to me." " My dear Irene, have you, then, no love for me'? I have hoped and believed that you hid your love behind your cold mask of proud silence. You nust, you do love me, my beau- tiful cousin !" . . - ".You do not believe your own words you, are obliged to know better. I love you as my cousin, love you somewhat as I love Uncle, Eric, love you as the sole young relative left to :me, as the only companion of my lonely childhood ; but other love than this I never had, never can have, for 'you. Hugh, my cousin, look fearlessly at the unvarnished truth ; neither you nor I have ore spark of that affection' which alone can sanction mar- riage. We are ubterly unlike in thought, taste, feeling,. habits of, life, and aspirations'; I have no sympathy wi h your pursuits, you are invariably afflicted with ennui at the bare suggestion of mine, Nature stamped us with relentless antagonisms of character ; I' bow to her decree rather than to man's, word. -Dante' painted no purgatory dark enough to suit the wretchedness that would result from sucli an unholy union as ours would 'be.. Think of it, Hugh ; a loveless marriage ; a mere moneyed partnership ; a sort of legal contract; the only 87 true union being of bank-stock, railroad-shares, and broad plantations." -' She leaned against one of'the pillars with' her arms folded, and a cold, merciless smile curling the beautiful mouth. "Indeed, you wrong me ! my wogshipped cousin. You' are dearer to me. than every- thing else on earth. I have loved you, and you only, from my boyhood; you have-been a lovely idol from earliest recollection " " You are mistaken, most entirely mistaken'; I am not to be. deceived, neither can you hoodwink yourself. You like me, you -love me, in 'the same quiet way that I love you; you admire me, perhaps, more than any, one you chance to know just new ; you.are pare tial to mybeauty, and, from long habit, have come to regard me as your property, muc' in the same light as that in-which fou.look u on your costly diamond buttons, or your high- spirited horses, or rare imported pointers. Af- ter' a fashion you like me, Hugh; I know you do; and, my cousin, it. would be most lamenta- ble and unnatural if.you-had not some affec- - 'tion for me; but love such as a 'man should have for tlle woman whom he makes hisilife- companion, and calls 'by-the sacred name of wife,' you have not one atom of.' I do not wish to wound' you, but I must talk' to you as any -reasonable woman would on a question ' of such great importance; for I hold it no lloht thing for two souls to burdenthemselves,with vows which neither can possibly ,perform. Hugh, I abhor' shams 1 and I tell you now that I never will be a party to that which. others have arranged without my consent." "Ah ! I sep how matters stand.'. Having disposed of your heart, and lavished your love elsewhere, you shrink from fulfilling the sa- cred obligations that make you mine. I little- dreamed that you were so susceptible, else I had not left you.feeling so secure. My, uncle has not proved the faithful guardian-I believ- ed him when I entrusted my treasure,'my af-. fianced bride,' to his care." Bitterdisappointment flashed in his face and quivered in his voice, rendering him reckless of consequences..' But though he gazed fiercely at her as he uttered the taunt, it produced. not the faintest visiblee 'efect; 'the cloudless chiselled face still wore its quiet smile of mild irony,'and the low clear voice preserved its sweetness., " You do ,,y father rank injustice, Hugh. Not Ladon was more'faithful or tirepss than he has been." " He can not deny' that 'the treasure has been stolen, nevertheless.".' " He probably can and will deny that the golden treasure has been snatched from his guardianship. .Another ,,Atlas o,. a 'second Herculespwould be needed for such a theft. The application stung him; he criwmned;* and retorted with a degree 'of bittei-ness of' which he was probably unconscious at the moment:' " # page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 MACARIA. "You, at least, dare not deny my charge, my truthful, constant fiance !" ",Either . you , overestimate- my supposed offence er underrate my courage; there are few honorable things which I dare not do." "Goiebs, 'then, who stands between your heart and mine. I have a tight to ask ; I will "You forget yourself, my cousin. Your right is obviously a debatable;.question,; wre -will Waive it, if fou pleiase. I have told you already, and now I repeat it for the last time, I will not, go with you 4o the altar, because neither of us has proper affection for the other to warrantuch a union; because it would be. an:infamous pecuniary contract,.revolting to every true.soul. I do not want your estate, .andryou should be content with your ample fortune without coveting my inheritance, or consenting to sell your manhood to mammon. I would not suit 'ou for a'wifeb; go find some more congenial spirit, some gentle, clinging girl, who will live only in your love, and make you forget all else in her presence. I have no' fancy 'for' the Gehenna our married 'life would inevitably prove., Henceforth there is. - ib margin for misapprehension;' understand that we meet in futureas cousins, only, as cousins, acknowledging no other relationship, no other tie save that of consanguinity ; for I do not hesitate to snap the links that were' forged in my babyhood, to annul .the unright- eous betrothal of other hands, yHugh,'cherish kio animosity:against me; I merit none.' Be- cause we can' not- be more, shall we be less than friends ?,- 'he held out her hand, but he was too an- g -y to accept it, and asked, haughtily: " Shall I break this pleasant piece of idfor- mation to myuncle ? Or do, you fdel quite equal to the task of 'blighting all'his long- cherished hopes, as well as rmine ?" 3 - "I' 1ave it in your hands; 'consult your dis- cretio " or your pleasure; to me it matters little.. Remember my earnest request, that you bear me no malice in the, coming years. Good-night, my cousin." She turnedto leave 'him, but he caught'her dress,' and exclaimed, 'with more tentlerness than he bad'ever manifested before: " Oh, Irefie ! do not reject me utterly! I can not relinquish$ you. 'Give 'me one. more year to' prove my love ; to win' yours., If your proud heart is still your own, may I not hope to obtain it, by -'." "9 Nb,'Hugh ! no. As well hope to inspire affection iii yonder mute 'marble guardians. Forgive' me if I pain you, but I, must be can- did at every hazard." She pointed to the statues near the door, and went 'through the *greenhouse Sto the library, thence 'to the oh- set'rtery, expecting, ei'e long, to b6 joined by hei- father. Gradually the house' became quiet, and, yopressed with the'pairifulsehise of coming'trouble, she sought her own roon just as the clock.sti-uck twelve. Pausing to count the strokes, shgsaw a light gleaming through the keyhole of her father's door, oppoite her owi, and heard the sound of low but earnest conversation mingled with the restless tramp of pacing feet. She was powerfully tempted to cross' the;passage, knock, and have. the' r- deal ended then and there ; but second thought whispered, " Tomorrow will Loon be here; be patient." She entered 'her room, and; wearied by' the events of .the day, fell asleep, dreaming of the ' lot in the ceme- tery, and the lonely, joyless- an who haunted it. , As she adjusted her riding-habit the follow- ing morning, and suffered Andrew to arrange her stirrup, the latter said, good-humoredly: "So, Mass' Hugh got the start of you? .,It is n't often he beats you." ." What do you mean ?" ",ie started a while ago, and, if he drives as he generally does, he will get to his planta- tion in time for dinner." "Did Father go, too ?"- - "No ma'm; only Mass' Hugh, in his qwn buggy." In the quiet, leafy laboratory of Nature there is an elixir of strength for those wise enough to seek it ; and its' subtle,. volatile properties. continually come to the relief of wearied, overtaxed brains, and aching, op- pressed hearts. The human frame, because of its keen susceptibility to impressions from the external world, and its' curious adaptation thereunto, becomes, like the strings of an ]Eolian' harp, attuned perfectly to the breath that sweeps-it,, and is, by .turns the exponent of stormy passion or holy resignation. Thus, from the cool serenity, the dewy sparkle, and delicate perfume of the early morning, Iren'e derived a renewal of streng h such as no pure- ly human aid could have fitrnibhed. She re- membered now the sibyllic words of the young minister:' "You, too, must tread' the wine-press alone," and felt that the garrients of her soul were taking the dye, the -purple stainof the wine of trial. Doubtless he had alluded to a different ordeal, but she knew that all' the future of her earthly existence was to receive its changeless hue from. this day, and she could entertain but a modicum of doubt as to what that hue would prove. - Returning from' her ride, she stood a moment on the fronthtep, looking down the avenue: The Bermuda ter- race, blazed in the sunlight- like a jewelled coronal, the billowy sea of'foliage, crested by dewy drops, flashed and dripped as the soft air stirred the ancient trees, the hedges were.all alive with birds"and butterflies, the rich aroma of' briliant and countless flowers, the graceful curl of smoke wreathing up from the valley beyond, the nieasured muasleal tinklT of bells as the cows slowly descenaed the distant hills, and, over all, like God's 'mantling mercy, a summer sky- "'As bine as Aaron's priestlyrobe appeared To Aaron, when he took it off to die.'" " Involuntarily she stretched out her arms ti the bending heavens and her lips moved,, bu no sound ',aped to tell what petition wen forth to tliec'All-Father. She went to he: room, changed her dress, and joined her father at the breakfast-table. Half-concealed behin his paper, he took no notice of her quiet "good-morning," seeming absorbed in an edi' torial. The silent meal ended, he said, as they left the table: "I want to 'see you in the library." .She' followed him without .comment ; he looked the .door, threw open the blinds, and drew two chairs to the window, seating him- self immediately in front of her. For a mo ment he eyed her earnestly, as if'measuring her strength ; and she saw the peculiar sparkle in his falcon-eye, which, like the, first lurid flash 'in a darkened sky, betokened tempests. " Irene, I was very much astonished to learn 'the result of an interview between Hugh and yourself; .I can scarcely believe that you were in 'earne'st, 'and feel disposed to' attribute your foolish words to some triflinginotive of girlish coquetry or momentary pique. . You have long been perfectly well aware that you'and your cousin were destined for each other ; that I solemnly promised the marriage should take place assoon as you were of.age ;' that all my plans and' hopes for you centred in this one 'engagement. I have not pressed the matter onyour attention of late, because.I knew. you had sense enough to appreciate your position, and because I believed you would, be"guided by my wishes in this important affair. You are, no longer a child ; I treatyou as a reason- 'able woman,,and now I tell you candidly it is the one wish of my heart to see you Hugh's wife."- lie paused, but she mad , no answer, and, taking one of her hands, he continued. " My daughter, I can not believe that you, on whom I have lavished so much love and tenderness, can deliberately refuse. to accede to my wishes, can disappoint my dearest hopes. Of course, in all that I do or counsel, I am ,actuated only by a desire to promote your happiness. My dear child, I have a right to direct you, and surely your affection for your only parent will induce you to yield to his wishes." .' wHe tightened his clasp of her cold hand, and le ned toward~her. 'Father, my happiness will not be promot- ed y. this marriage, and if you ire' actuated solely by this motive; allow me to remain just' as'I am. I should be most miserable as Hugh's. wife; ;most utterly miserable." " Why so?" -" Forreasons which I gave him 'last night, and *wlich it is hardly necessary for me to re- capitulate, as he doubtless repeated them to you."'- "Let me hear them, if you please." "Our characters are totally dissimilar ; our o tastes and opinions wide as the poles asunder ; t- our natures could. not possibly harmonize ; t and, more than all, we do not love each other r as people should who stand at the altar and r ask' God's blessing on their marriage. ?sup- I pose, sir, that Hugh tells you he loves me ; t perhaps helikes me better'thanany one else - beside himself, but the 4leep, holy, affection which he ought to feel for the woman whom he calls his wife has nd existence in his heart. It will prove mere temponairy disappoint- .ment, nothing seriously touching his hap i- 3 ness ; for,' I ass ire you, that is not in' keeping.". " And if I answer that I know the contrary to be 'true ?" " Father,41 should still adhere to my own opinion; and, even were I disposed to accept your view'of it, my own feelings would stand . an everlasting barrier to our union. I do not love Hugh, and-I must -'tell you, sir,. that I think it wrong for cousins to marry." " You talk like a silly child ;' I thought you had, more sense. Your objections I have lis-, tened to; they are imaginary and trifling; nd I ask you,' as a father 'has a right -to ask his child, to waive these ridiculous notions, and grant the only request I have ever made of you. Tell me, my daugther, that you will' consent: to accept your cousin, and thereby make me happy. He stooped and.kissed her forehead, watch- ing her countenance eagerly. "Oh, Father ! do not ask this of me ! Any- thing.else ! anything else." "Answer me, my darling' child ; give me your promise." .his hold was painful, and an bngry pant mingled with the pleading tones. - She raised her head and-said, slowly: "My father, I can not." -He threw her hand from him, and sprang up. "'Ingrate! do you mean to say that youa4vill not fulfil a sacred engagement ?-that you .will break an oath given to'the dead ?" "I do not hold myself bound by the oaths. of another, though he were twide. my father. 'I am responsible for no acts'but my own. No one has the right to lay his hand-on an unbon- scious infant, slumbering in her 'cradle, a'd coolly determine for all time, her destiny. You have the right to guide me, to say what I 'shall not do without your consent, but I am a free-born Anericafi, thank God I I did not draw my breath in Circassiaj to be bartered for gold by my -father.' I, only,' can give 'my- self away. Why shOuld you wish to force this marriage on mne,? , Father,.do you think that a wanr has no voice in a matter involving her happiness forllife?' Is one of' Gdd's.'holy sacramernte t~ become a mere p 'ntrtrants-, action ?-only a legal transfer of re state M.A.CABIA. 89. . . page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 ' ,a MACARIA. and cotton bales ? Oh, my father! would you 'make yourself and. your child parties to so ignoble, so loathsome ,a proceeding ?"' " Oh! I suspected that your cursed obsti- nacy would meet me here, as well as elsewhere in your life. You have been a source of trouble and'sorrow from, your birth; but the time has come to end all this. I will not be trifled with ; I tried to reason with you, to influence you through your affections, but it ,seems you havenone. If I resort.to other measures now, you have only yourself to thaiik. Irene,there can be peace between us but upon' one condi- tion; I have set my heart on. seeing you ligh's wife; nothing less' will satisfy me. I warn you, as you values youP own happiness, not to thwart me; it is no trivial risk that you ,run. I tell you now, I will make you suffer severely if you dare to disobey,me in this matter. You know that I never menace idly, and if you refuse to hear reason I will utterly disinherit you, though'ye are my only child. Ponder it well. You have been raised in luxury, and taught to believe yourself one of the wealthiest heiresses in fhe state ; contrast your present position, your elegant home, ypur fastidious tastes gratified to the utmost; con- traot all this, I say, with- poverty.--imagine yourself-left in the world without one cent ! Think of it ! think of it!. My wealth is my - own, mark you, and I will give it to whom I please, irrespective of all claims of tustom. Now the alternative is fully before you, and on your own hqad be the copsequences. Will you accede to my wishes, as any dutiful child should, or will you deliberately incar my over- lasting displeasure'? . Will you marry Hugh ?", Both rose, and stood confronting each other;' his 'face burning with wrath, every feature quivering with passion; hers.white and rigid as a 'statue's, :wijh onlJya blue cord-like cres- cent between the arching brows to index her emotion., Steadily the large violet eyes looked into tl@e that regarded her so angrily; there was nO drooping of the long, silken fringes ; no moisture dimming their depths; then they were raised slowly, asaf to the throne of God, registering=some vow, and, pressing her hands over her heart, she said, solemnly:. - " Father, I will not marry Hugh, so help me God.!" Silence fell,between them for several mo- ments; something in that- filed, calm face of his.child awed him, but it was temporary,.and, with a bitter laugh, he exclaimed: ".Ob, very, well! Your poverty be upon your own 'head in coming years, when the grave .closes over me., At my death every' cent of my prolierty passes to 'Hugh, and with it my name, and between ,you and me, as an impassable gulf, lies my everlasting displdeasure. Understand that, Abhougli we 'lve here ingope house, as father, and chald, I do not, and will not,.ogve, you., You have defied me.; now neat the hitter fruit of your disobedience.". " I have no desire to question the disposition of your wealth; if you prefer to give it to my cousin, I am willing-perfectly willing. I would rather beg my bread from door to door, prod though I am; I would sooner soil my ILuntingdon hands by washing, or cooking, than soil my soul with perjury, or sell myself for gold. It is true, I love elegance and luxu- ry ; I enjoy wealth as well as most people do,' I suppose ; but poverty does not frighten me half-so much as a loveless marriage. Give' Hugh your fortune if you wish, but, Father ! YatIer ! let there be no estrangement between you an me. I can bear everything but your displeasure ; I 'dread' nothing so much as the loss of your love. Oh, Father! forgive a dis- appointment which my conscience would not permit me to avert. Forgive the pain which, Godknows, I-would not have caused-you,,if I could have avoided it without compromising principle. Oh, my Father ! my Father ! let not dollars and cents stand between you and your only child. I ask nothing.now but your love." - ' - She drew nearer, but he waved her-off and said, with a sneering laugh: "Away with all such cant ! I.gave you the choice, and you made your selection with your eyes fully open. Accept poverty as your doom, and with it my eternal displeasure. I intend to make you suffer for 'your obstinacy. You shall find, to your sorrow, that I am not to be trifled with, or my name. 'is not Leonard Huntingdon. Now, go your own way, and find what a thorny path you have made for yourself." He pointed to the door as he, had done, years before, *hen the boarding-school decree went forth, and without remonstrance she left him-' and sat down on the steps of the greenhouse. Soon after, the sound of his buggy-wheels told her.:that .he had gone to town, and, leaning her cheek on her hand, she recalled the. pain- ful conversation from first to last. That he meant all he had threatened, and more, she did not question for an instant, and, thinking of her future, she, felt sick at heart. But with the shame and sorrow came, also, a thrill of joy ; she had burst the fetters; she was free. Wounded affection bled freely, but brain and-. conscience exulted in the result. She could' not reproach herself; she resolved not to re-, proach her. father, even -in thought. Hers was not a disposition to vent its griefs. ,and troubles in tears ; these had come to her re- lief, but three or four times in the course of a life, and on this occasion she felt as little in- clination to cry as to repine idly over what could not be rectified. Her painful reverie was interrupted by the click of approaching a crutches, and she rose to meet her uncle-. " Do, not get .up, Irene ;' I will sit here be- side you.. My' child, look at me-are you - sick ?" . " No, Uncle Eriec; what put that absurd no- . 6 MAdARIA, 91 tion into- your head? I rode past your door lent'additional eagerness to her manner.. The two hours ago, and was powerfully tempted to fingers trembled, the eyes sparkled unwonted- stop and breakfast with your bachelorship." ly, a deeper, richer . crimson gkowed on' the He regarded her anxiously, noting the, sin- smooth cheeks, and the lips arted-and closed gular descent on her pale forehead, and con- unconsciously. The tantalizing dream of nesting it with the scowling face of his broth- childhood; beautiful but evanescent,' 'had er-in-la ,.which had passed him. on the a've- gradually embodied themselves in a palpable, nue. He knew that something very unusual tangible, glorious reality; and the radiant had excited the calm, inflexible woman till the woman exulted in the knowledge that she had hot blood swelled that. vein,, but he forebore but to put forth her hand and grasp it. The all question. - patient work of twelve months drew to a close ; " What are you thinking of, Uncle Eric ?" the study of years bore its first fruit ; the laat " Only of a line in a poem which I was delicate yet quivering-touch was given; she reading last n~ght. Shall I quote it for you ? threw down palette and brush, and, stepping " sl sw md krback, surveyed the canvas. The Exhibition All curdled -.' yr would open within two days, and this was to be her contribution. A std-eyed Cassandra, She looked in his face, .smiled, and passed with pallid, prescient, woe-struck'features--an her hand over her forehead, hiding the blue overmastering face, wherein the flickering cord. light of divination struggled feebly with'the " Ah ! a gentle way of reading me a lecture human horror of the To-Come, whose hides on ill-temper. I lay no claim to saintship, you 'mysteries were known only to 'tile royal know, and when I am out of hurftor my face prophetess. In mute and . stern despair it won't play-the*'hypocrite. I am no Griselda ; looked out from the canvas, a curious, anoma- obviously none of my name can ever expect lous thing--cut adrift from human help, bereft canonization on that score. Come to the con- of aid from heaven--yq't, in its doomed isola- servatory; the lemons are in 'full bloom, and tion, scorning to ask he' sympathy which its niarvellously sweet. Put your hand on my extraordinary loveliness extorted from all who shoulder,, and come down slowly." saw'it. The artist's pride in this, her'-first fin- "Where is Hugh.? I thought.he came home ished, creation, might well be pardoned, for yesterday ?" she was fully conscious that the cloud-region "He started to his plantation 'at daylight, of a painful novitiate lay far beneath her; Take 'care, sir ; these flags are slippery with that henceforth she should never, iss e dew; your crutches are unsafe." pressure of long-coveted Chaplets: from"-her -"- ' brow ; that she should bask in 'the warm, fruc- tifying rays of public favor ; and measureless . exultation flashed in her beautiful eyes. - The CHAP'TER XX. torch of Genius burned brightly, as, buoyant "To-whit-to-whoo !" Munin stretched his and eager, she took her place ig the great broad gray wings, and, quitting the mantle- lampadrome of life; but would it endure till piece, perched upon the top of the easel; gaz- the end ? Would it lightuthe goal standing ing down at the solitary artist, and uttering all upon the terminus of Time ? the while a subdued melancholy note of com- The door opened, and Russell came ' to the . plaint,as if to attract her attention. ,he looked studio. She was-not expecting him-;ssud- up and held out her hand coaxingly. ' 'den .appearance gave her no time to adjust "Munin ! Munin! what'do you want? You the chilling mask of pride, and 'all her uncon- haunt me like my shadow. Poor pet, true to 'trolled affection found eloquent language in . your name,'you pine for your master."' - the joyful face. The ruffled plumes smoothed themselves, " Russell ! my'own dear Russell !" the plaint'was hushed. He fluttered. to her He drew his arm around her"and kissed her shoulder, received her soft, caressing touches flushed'cheek, and each looked at the-other, with evident satisfaction, nestled his beak in wondering at the changes which years had her shining hair, and then, as if soothed and wrought. . contented, flitted to the open 'window. Re- " Electra, you have' certainly -improved suming her brush, Electra leaned forward and more than any. ono'I ever knew. You look .continued her work. " Laborare est orare;" the impersonation of perfect health '-it' is if so, no'more ardent devotee ever bowed at needless to ask how ydu are." And again his the shrine of toil, bearing sacrificial offerings, lips touched the beaming face pressed against Thoughts, 'hopes, aspirations,, memories, all his shoulder. ' Her arms stole tremnbYiugly centred in the chosen profession; to .its pros- around his- neck, past indifference was forgot- ecution she brought the strength and energy ten in 'ths joy of his presence, and she mur- of an indomitable will, the rich and varied re- inured: soui-ces of a.well-stored, brilliant intellect. It ,I "-thought I 'should not see you before I was evident that she labored con amore, and left America. I can 'not tell you what . now the expectation of approaching triumph pleasure this surprise is to me.' O, 'Russell! page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] MACARIA' - - " I longed inexpressibly to be with you once more.. Thank you, a thousand times, for com- ing to me at last." "Did you suppose that I intended to let you put the Atlantic between-us without mak- ing'anr effort' to see you again ? Were you unjust enough to believe that I had forgotten tho only relative whom I love ? My dear lit- tle sceptic, I have come to prove my affection,. and put yours to the test." ' ' ' , HO pressed her. closer to his heart, but sud- denly she shrank from him, unclasped his ari, and,,wheeling two chairs to the wndow,.said, hurriedly: "Sit down, and let me 'look at you. You have grown so tall and commanding that-I am half-afeaid of my owit.cousin. You are less like Aunt Amny thtn formerly." , . " Allow me to look at your painting first, for it will soon be too dark to examine 'it. This is the Cassandra of which you wrote me." He stood before 'it for some moments in silence, gind she watched him with breathless eagerness-for his-opinion was of more value to her than that of 'all the dilettanti and con- noisseurs who would soon inspect it. Gradu- ally his dark, cold face kindled, and she had her-reward.: "It is a masterly creation ;' a 'thing of won- derful and .imperishable beauty; it 'is a great success---as such the world will receive it-and hundreds will proclaim your triumph. I am proud of it, an dodbl proud of you." He held out his hand, and, as she put her £ngers in his, her head drooped and hot tears blinded her. Praise from the lips she loved best stirred her womanly heart as the applause of the public could Aever 'dgl; and, in after years, wheg grief and loneliness oppressed her, these precious words rang sweet and sil- very 'through the-darkened chambers of her soul, working, miracles of. comfort infinitely beyou e,,potent spell of:-Indian O-U-Mor mystic a.- Without perceiving her emotion he con nued, with his eyes fixed on the pict- ure: .. ..Some day you must make me a copy, and I will, hang it over the desk. i} my office, where I can feast.my eyes on its rare loveli- nee and my ears with.your praises from all who see it. How long have you been at work .upon it?" . " I ean't recall the time when it .first took hold of my imagination ; it paced by my side when I was a cild, brooded .over me iin my' troubled: dreams,-looked out from the pomp of summely clouds and the dripping drab skies of winter,-loated on snow-flakes, and flashed in thunder-storms; but I outlined it about a year ago. For my Exhibition picture, I wavere#l long between 'this and an unfinished 'Antig- one ; 'but finally decided in favor of Cassan- dra.' -.-'. " And selected wisely. While lb Etirope I saw, in a private house, an .exquisite' head of the ' Erythracen Sybil,' which somewhat ,re- sembles your painting. The position is almost identical--the nose, mouth, and chin very similar; but the'glory of' this,Cassandra is the supernatural eyes, brimful of prescience. It might afford matter for curious speculation, however, and some time we will trace,the subtle law of association of ideas by which two ar- tists, separated'by the Atlantic and by cen- turies, chanced, under totally different cr-- cumstances, to portray similarly the two dis- tinct prophetesses who both foretold the doom of Troy." ." If such is.the case, the world will be very sceptical of the coincidence. I did not even know that there was an ' Erythrwan Sybil,' much less a picture of her ; so much for igno- rance!. The critics who 'knew that I did not paint your portrait, simply because it was well done, will swear that I stole the whole of m' Cassandra," answered Electra, perplexed and troubled.' ."You nee not look so rueful, and' plough your forehead with that heavy frown. -In all probability I am the only, person in New York who has seen the other picture ; and, granting the contrary, the resemblance might not be detected. If you suffer it to annoy you, I sha,11 be sorry that I mentioned it. Yet, I doubt not, the withering charge of plagiarism ,has often been hurled in the face of an honest worker quite as unjustly as it would be in your case. Very startling coincidences sometimes occur most innocently ; but'carping envy is a thrifty plant, and flourishes on an astonishingly small amount of soil." "Who painted that Sibyl ?" -- " It is not known positively.. Traveling through the northern part of France, I was detained some hours at a village, and employed the delay' in rambling about -the suburbs. Following a'winding road it brought me to - the enclosure of a chateau, and I leaned o; the fence and admired the parterre, which was uncommonly pretty. The owner happened to be=among his flower-beds, saw.me, and, with genuine French politeness and, urbanity, in- sisted'that I should enter and rest myself while he gathered me a bouquet of mignonette and pinks. The afternoon was warm, and I asked.for a glass of water. He took me into the house, and og the parlor wall hung this picture. It riveted my attention, and flattered, doubtless, by shy evident admiration,-he gave. me its history.. IIis father had fouhd it at a picture-shop-in Germany, I forget now exactly where, and bought it for a Dolce, bit doubt- ed its genuineness;.. and my host, who seemed thoroughly au fait in. Art matters, asserted that it .belonged to a 'much earlier school-. That-is all that I or the owner know of it; so . dismiss the subject from your mind." . ." I. shall not, I promise' :you.. Give me - minute directions, and .I will hunt.up chateau, mignotiette,' gentlemanly proprietor, Sibyl, . aid all. Who knows but metempsychosis may' be true after all, and that the painter's soul possesses me bodily, striving to portray the archetype which haunted him in the last-stage of existence-? According to Vaughan, the Portpguese have a superstition that the soul of a man who has died leaving some duty unful- filled, or promised work unfinished, is'- fre- quently known to enter into another person, and, dislodging for a time, the rightfulsoul-oc' cupant, impel him unconsciously to complete -what was lacking." "1You are growing positively paganish, Ele'ctra, from constant association with the dead deities of classic ages, and I must reclaim you. Come, sit down, and tell me something of your life since the death of your friend, Mr. Clifton.". " Did youreceive my last letter, giving' an account of Mrs. Clifton's'death ?" " Yes; -just as I stepped upon the platform of the carsit, was. handed to me. 1I had heard nothing from you, for so-long, that I thought it was 'time to look after you.' . "You had started, then, before you knew, that I was going to Europe?"' "' Yes." - He could not understand the instantaneous change which came over .her countenance-- the illumination followed as suddenly- by a smile, half-compassionate, half-bitter.' She pressed one hand to her heart, and. said:. "6Mrs. Clifton never seemed to realize' her' son's death, though, after paralysis took place, and shei became' speechless, I thought she re- covered her memory in some degree., She survived him just four months, and, doubtless, was'saved much grief by her unconsciousness of what had. occurred. Poor old lady ! she suffered little for a 'year past, and died, I hope, without paiif. I have the consolation of know- ing that 'I did all that could be done to pro- mote her comfort. Russell, I wodld not live here for any consideration.; nothing but a- sense of 'duty has detained me this Tong. I promised him that I would - not forsake- his mother. But you can have no adequate con- ception' of 'the feeling ,of desolation which comes over me when I sit here during the long evenings. He seems'ratching me frompicture- frame and pedestals; his face--his pleading, . atient,' wan face-haunts me perpetually. And yet I tried to make him happy; Godi knows I 'did my duty." - 'She sprang up and paced the'room for some moments, with her hands behind her, and tears glittering- oi her'cheeks. Pausing at last on the rug, she pointedto a lai'ge square object closely shrouded, and added: 4Yonder stands his last picture , unfinished. The day he d he put a 'few feeble strokes uponit, and bequeathed the completion of the taek to me. For several year he worked oc- .casionally on it, but much remains to be done.: It is tlie ' Death of Socrates.'; I have not even looked at it since that night; I do not intend to touch it until after I visit Italy ;.I doubt whether my hand will' ever.be steady enough to give 'the last strokes. Oh, Russell! t ii olden time, the cottage-days seem-far; far off to me now 1" Leaning against the mantle-piece she-drop ped her head on her hand, but when he ap broached and stood at the opposite corner he . saw that the tears had dried. " Neither of us has had a sunny life, Electra;, both have had numerous obstacles to contend with ; both'have very bitter memories. Orig- 'inally 'there was a pertain parallelism in our characters, but with our growth grew the di- vergence. You: have preserved the' nobler part of your :nature better than I; for my years I am farolder than you; none of the brightness of mr boyhood segms to ,linger about me. Contact with'- the world is an in- durating process ; I really'-did note know how hard I had grown, until I felt my heart soften at 'sight of you. .need you to keep-the kindly charities and gentle amenities of life before me, and, 'therefore, I'.have cone for you. 'But for my '(poverty, I never would, have given you up so long; I felt thatit wduld be for your advantage, in snore than. one respect, to remain with Mr. Clifton un- til, I had 'acquired my profession.' I knew that you would enjoy privileges here which I could not give -you"iu my straitened =cir cumstances. Things have changed .; *r. Campbell has admitted me to partnership;. my success I consider an established fact. Give up, for a season, this projected tour of Europe ; . wait till I can go, with you, till I can' take you; go back to W - with me.. You can continue your art-studies, if you wish it; you can prosecute them there as well as here. .You are ambitious, Electra; so am 1; let us work together." She raised 'her head and .looked at the powerful, nobly-proportioned forp, 4'rand, kingly face, calm and colorless,:the large, searching black 'eyes, within whose baffing depths lay -all'the mysteries of mesmeriun, and a spasm of pain seized her 6wn features. She shaded her brow, and 'answered': "No, Russell, I could not entertain that thought an instant." "Are you too proud .to accept a home from' me " Not too proud, exactly ; but, as long as'I have health, J mean to make a support. I will not burden you.". "What bunglers you' women are atlogiol The thought'of living on my charity alfrights you, and yet you fly from me to the cold ehaii- ty of the 'world-for :what else is flesti ng' fickle public favor-fitful public patronage 'or praise ?"' "Full value received fori benefit rendered is not charity;a beeide, Russell, yoiu, too~seek ad subsist~uponi this same fickle public favor." M MACAlRIA. . page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 94 MALARIA. " Partially, I grant you; but I ground my. claims far deeper than ,you; I strike down, *taking root in the substratum of selfishness. Interest, individual interest, is.the outpost of which Isam paid to be the sentinel; 'stern ne- cessity is my guardian angel, compelling 'all men. to see that my, wages are inviolate. I stand in the great brain market-place, and deal with mankind in the normal, every-day manifestations of avarice,,selfishness, or hate ; .profit and .loss the ,theme-dollars- or blood ,the currency. .1M. Quetelet, one of the most eminent ,statisticians of Europe, - has proved that, in a given population, a given number of crimes will annually be committed ; so.you see that, in this market, also, production keeps pace with consumption, and legal counsel is necessitated. 'On the contrary, you address yourself to a class of-emotions fluctuating and short-lived--common to comparatively few- involving no questions of utility-luxuries, not necessities. Yours is a profession ofcontingen- dies; not so mine; for injustice, duplicity, theft, are every-day, settled certainties. A man will give me one-half of his estate to save the. other, which the chicane of his neighbor threatens." "And ,if that villanous, avaricious neighbor had employed you half an hour before the in- jured man sought to engage your services ?" " Why, then, the lawyer next in his estima- tion gets the case, and it is resolved into a * simple question of his- superior adroitness, .acumen, and industry, or mine. The world is hard upon lawyers, its faithful servants,' and holds them up as'moral monsters to the very children whose mouths their labor fills with bread.; An erroneous and most unjust i- pression prevails that a lawyer of ability, plus extensive practice,' equals 'Bacon, Jefries, Impey, or some other -abnormal disgrace to. jurisprudence ; whereas, the sole object of the institu nof law is to secure right, justice, and tr. ,You are opening your lips to ask if the"ast is not often wilfully suppressed ? Remember that even. the Twelve found a. Judas among their number, -and the provision of counsel is to elicit truth, and all the truth, on both sides. I bring testimony in defence of all that. is susceptible of proof in my client's favor, and it is the business of the opposite counsel to do likewise ; if he neglects his duty, or, through lack of intellect, suffers me to gain thecease, even a ainst real justice,.am I culpa- ble? 1 did my .duty; he failed to defend his eause, however righteous, and on his.shoulders rest the turpitude." ' "4Ah, Russell I you have taken a diploma in the school of sophistry." "1I. am- content' that you should think so, since a recent great historian 'has decided that the. Sophists were a sadly maligned sect, afnd, -instead of bec'ommn a synonynse of reproach, marited the everlatig gratitude of mankind, a.s the tireless public teachersof Greece-the walkin-school system of"Athe'ns in her impe- rial, palmy days." "" I'never will believethat ! I wish to heaven archeologists would let the dust of Athens rent, instead of ploughing it up periodically with the sacrilegious shares of newfangled theories." " And thereby exhuming the mouldering bones of some of your favorite divinities, I sup- pose, ? The literary philhellenism of the pres- ent age, and especially its philologic tendency, is fast hunting the classic spectres of the heroic times ,into primeval shade. Old-fogyism in literature is considered,.I believe, quite as un- pardopable as in politics. Take care how you handle the Sophists, for I hold that they differed in but one respect from your hero, Socrates." - " You shall not insult his mefnory by any such, disgraceful association," interrupted, his' cousin. . " And that difference," he continued, with- out heeding her, " consists. in the fact that they taught for money, .while he scorned to accept remuneration. Sydney Smith main- tains that ' Socrates invented common-sense two thousand years ago, as Ceres invented the plough, and. Bacchus intoxication.' -1 should receive the dictum more, readily if he had pocketed the honest wages'of his talents, in- stead of deluding himself with the belief that he was the heaven-appointed regenerator of Athens, and making his labors purely eleemo, synary, to the possible detriment of his family. Whd knows but that, after all, .Xantippe de- served a place in martyrology,'having- been driven to paroxysms of rage and desperation, by an empty purse or wretched household derangements, victimized by her husband's cosmopolitan. mission; forsit is a notorious fact that men who essay to manage tle Qpinions of the world invariably neglect their domestic affairs, and'allow them to'run to ruin." " Five years ago you would not have said, that, Russell, and I think it :questionable whether you believe it all now. I hold my profession a nobler one than yours, and dis- pute your- predicate that it involves, as utility. Whatever tends to exalt, to purify, to .enno- ble, is surely useful;- angl Aesthetics, properly .directed, is one of the most powerful engines of civilization. 'See what it wrought for ,Athens." . " You inistake effect for cause. The free- dom of. Athens was the lever which raised itf tosuch'a pitch of glory ; as a 'sequence, the arts flourished rand beauty was apotheosized, When freedom perished the arts received their death-blow, and, impotent to preserve the prosperity of the 'city, shed 'a lingering' halo around its melancholy but majestic ruins. ' Tfhat- aesthetics and utility arl syn~onyeies is an axiom which might find acceptation in ' Bensalem ;' but. in this intensely practical, mechanical epoch of human history, and this I I / S MACARIA. 95 money-making quarter of the globe, you-mus educate the masses up to an entirely differen level before you can expect 'them to receiv it." "1And, so Par as my feeble influence extends or my'limited ability will permit, I purpose t become such a teacher. Do not laugh at fne " Russell, I beg of you." "I smile at the beautiful dream, rather thai the enthusiastic dreamer. So, doubtless drean ed Phidias, Praxiteles, and the Rhodiar Trio, and only a few time-corroded blocks o marble remain in attestation. Cui bono ?" " Yours and nine !-for dead nations, an for- generations yet unborn, who ,shall gaze upon their noble and imperishable monuhments 'You'are worse than Goth or Vandal, if you can ignore their-softening, spiritualizing infln ence--for even they, rude 'and untutored bowed before' their immortal beauty. What has come over you, Russell, hardening your nature, and sealing the sources of genial, gen- nine appreciation ?" "The icy breath of experience, the crystal izing touch of years. .You must .not 'be so e vere upon me, Electra; many a time, si ce we parted, I. have left my-desk to watch a gor- geous sunset, and for a few minut-es fancy my self once more leaning on the garden-gate of my early home. I love beauty, but I subordi- nate it to the practical utilities of life. 'have little time for msthetic musings; I lite among disenchanting commonplace realities. It is woman's province and prerogative to gather up the links of beauty, and bind them as a gar- land round her home;'to fill it with the fra- grance of dewy 'flowers, the golden light of western skies, the low soothing strains, of' iu- sic, which can chant all care to rest; which will 'drown the' clink of dollars and cents, and lead a man's thoughts to purer, loftier themes. Ah I there is'no apocalypse of joy and peace like a happy home, .where a;.woman of ele- gance and refinement goes.to and fro. ''This recalls the object of my 'isit. You say,' truly, .that full value received for benefit rendered is not charity.; apply your principle, come to W . '.,share my future, and what fortune I may find assigned me. I have bought the cottage, and 'intend to build a handsome house there some day, where you and Mr. Campbell and I can live peacefully. You shall twine your aesthetic fancies all about it, to make it picturesque enough to suit your fastidious a- tistic taste. Come,. and save .me from what you consider my worse' than vandalian pro- clivities. I came here simply:and solely in the hope of prevailing on you to return with me. I make this request,'not 'because. I think it, will be expected of me, but fo' more selfish reasons'-because it ,is a matter- resting very near my heart." .- . " Oh, Russell! you tempt me." '" I wish to do so. My blood beats in -your 4eins ; you are the only relative I value, and t were you indeed my sister I should scarcely t love you more. With all'a brother's interest e why should I not claim'a brother's right to keep you with me-at least until you find your s, Pylades, and give him a higher claims before o God and man Electra, were I your brother , you would require no persuasion ; why hesi- tate now ?" h She clasped her hands behind her, as if for , support in some fiery ordeal, and, gathering n up her strength, "spoke rapidly, like oi' who f fears that resqlutioin will fail" before some nec- essary senten e is pronounced. d " You are very kind and generous, Russell, e and for all that you'have offered me I thank . you from the depths of a full heart. The con- u sciousness of ygur continued interest and af- - fection is inexpressibly precious; but' my dis- , position is too much, like your own to suffer t me to sit down in idleness, while there' is so' r much to be done ' in the world. I, too, want - to earns a noble reputation, which wilt sur- vive long after I have been gathered to my - fathers; I wantto accomplish some work,;look- - ing upon which, my' fellow-creatures'will pro- claim: ' That woman' has .not lived in 'vain - the world is better and happier because she " came and labored in it.'I want my name carved, not on monumental marble only, but upon the -living, throbbing heart of my ae ! stamped indelibly on the generation ii which my lot is cast. Perhaps,1 am too sanguine of success; a grievous disappointment may await xl1 my amltious hopes, but failure will come from ant of genius, not- lack of persevering, patient toil. -Upon the threshold of my ca- reer, facing the loneliness of' coming years, I resign that, hope' with which, 'like a golden thread, most women embroider their future. I dedicate myself, my life, unreservedly to Art." "You believe that you will be , happier among the marble and canvas of Italy ian in W ' - with me?". $ " Yes;.I shall be better satisfied there. All my life it has gleamed afar off, a glorious land of promise to my eager,longing spirit. From childhood I have cherished the hope ofleach' ing it, and the fruition is near at hand. Italy ! bright alma mater of the art to which 1 con- secrate my years. Do you wonder that, like a lonely child, I stretch, out my arms toward it ? Yet my stay there will be but for a sea= . son. I go to complete my studies, to make myself a more perfect instrument for my noble work, and then I shall come home-come, iot to New York, but to . my own dear native' South,,toW - , that I may labor under the shadow of its lofty pines 'and within heai'ing of its murmuring river--diarer tome than classic Arno or immortal Tiber:, I wrote d that Mr. Clifton had left moe a legacy, which, judiciously invested, will defrayy my exenses in Europe, where' living is cheaper 'tha in this country. 'Mrs Young has taken charge of 4 page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] MALARIA. the, money for me, and has kindly offered to' attend to my remittances. Aunt Ruth'sfriends, the Richardsons, consented to wait -for me until: after the opening of the Exhibition of the Acadeiny of Iesign, and one week from tomorrow we, expect to sail," ' What do you, know of the .family ?" "Nothing, except that'the lady, who is an old friend of my aunt, is'threatened with con- sumptiori, and ha's- been advised to spend. aj yearaor two in Florence. Aunt Ruth took me to see her the other day ; she seems intelligent and agreeable, and, I dare say, I shall find her kind and pleasant enough." " Since such is- the programme you have marked out, I trust that no disappointments await you, and that all your bright dreams may. be realized. But, if it should prove otherwise, and you grow weary of your art, sick of isolation, and satiated with Italy, re- member that I shall-welcome you home, and gladly share with you all that I possess. You are embarking in an experiment which thou- sands have tried before you, and wrecked hap- piness upon; but I have no right to control your future, and certainly no desire to discour- age you. At all events, I hope our separation will be brief." A short silence followed,,broken at last by; Electra, who watched him-kee'nly as she spoke.' ';Tell me something about Irene. Of'course, in a sinall town like ' , you must see her frequently." " By no means. I think I have seen her but three times . since her, childhood -'once riding with her father, then'"accidentalfy at church, and again, a few. evenings before I left, at the graveyard, where she was dressing a tombstone .with flowers. There we ex- changed n few words for the fist time, and this reminds me that I. Am bearer of a message, yet undelivered. She inquired after you, and desired me to tender you her love and best wishes.-' . He neither started fior changed color at the mention of Irene's name, but straightened himself,.and buttoned to the, throat the black coat,-which, from the warmth of the room,,he had partially loosened. "Is she not a great belle ?" ".I. presume few women have been more ad- mired than she is. .I hear much of her beauty 'and the sensation which it creates wherever she.goes ; but the number of her suitors is probably limited, front the fast that it is gener- ally known she is engaged to her cousin, young Seymour." "'I can not believe that she loves him." "«Oh i that is not necessary to 'latter-day matrimonial contracts; it is an obsolete clause, net 'essential to legality, and utterly ignored., She is bound-. hand atnd foot, and her. father will, immolate her on the altar of Mehxey."' - He smiled bitterly, and crossed his arms over his chest. ~. tI "You mistake her character, Russell. I know her better, and I tell you there is none. of theiphigenia in her nature.":. " At least I do not mistake her'father's, and I pity the woman whose fate rests in his iron grasp." graShe holds hers in her own hands, small and white though they are; and, so surely as' the stars shine above us, she will marry only where she loves.. She has all the will which has rendered .the -name of her farnily prover-. bial. 'I have her here in crayons; tell me what you think of the likeness." She took down a portfolio and selected the head of her quondam playmate, holding it under thelgaslight,,sand still -scrutinizing her cousin's countenance. . He took it, and looked gravely, earnestly, at the lovely features. "It scarcely does her justice: Idoubt wheth- er any portrait ever will.-. Beside, the expres- sion of her face has changed materially since this was sketched. There is a harder outline now about her mouth, less of dreaminess in. the eyes , more of cold hauteur in the whole face. IF you desire it, I can, in one line of Tennyson, photograph her proud beauty; as I' saw her mounted on her. favorite hdrse the week that I left home; '"raultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly nulli"' He laid thedrawing back in' the open port- folio, crossed the room, and took up his hat. "Where are you going, Russell ? Can't you spend the evening with nm at Aunt Ruth's ?" ' "No, thank you; I must go. There is to be a great political meeting at Tammany Hall to- night, and I am particularly anxious to attend." " What ! are-you, too, engaged in watching the fermentation of the political vat ?" " Yes ; I-am most'deeply interested ; nq true lover of his country can fail to be so at ,this, juncture." "How long will you be in New York i" . "Since I cannot persuade you to return with me, my stay here will be shortened; One of our courts meets soon, and, though M. Campbell will be there to attend to the cases, I, want, if 'possible, .to be present., I shall re- turn day after to-morrow. And now good- night ; I will see you early in the morning." The door closed behind him, and she remain- ed standing. for some time just as he left her. Slowly the folded hands shrank from each other, and dropped nerveless to her side'; the. bright..glow in her cheeks, the dash of crimson on her lips, faded ffrom both; the whole face relaxed into an expression:of hopeless agony. Lonely.as Moses when he 'calmly climbed .Nebo to die, she'bowed herself a despairing victim upon the grim, flint-fronted altar of Necessity-.- Curio;usly subtle and indomitable is woman's, heart -.o often the jest bf the Ilippalit and4 unthinking, the sneer of the 'unscrulously calculating, or mercilessly cynicaL. It had long been no secret to this woman that she geccu- I MACARIA. . 9? pied the third place in her cousin's af'ections was but atdweller of the vestibule. Her pri had been tortured, her vanity sorely wounded yet, to-night, purified from all dross, love--r invincible,, triumphant, from, the, crucible long and severe trial-sublime in,'its isolatio asking, expecting no return-- "Self-girded with torn' strips or hope." Such is -the love of a true woman.' G help all such, in this degenerate world- of oui socursed with shams'and counterfeits. Raising her tearless, shadowy eyes to ti woeful face of her Cassandra,.Electra extend ed bec arms and murmured: "Alone henceforth! a pilgrih in' foreii lands ! a solitary worker among strangers. S be it! I am strong enough to work alone. S be it !" The flaming sword of the'Angel of Destin waved her from the Eden of her girlish dad dreams, and by its fiery gleam she read th dim, dun future ; saw all- "The long mechanic pacings to anl fro, The set gray life, and apathetic end." CHAPTER XXI. Don't you know that even granite mil stones finally grind themselves into impalpabl powder? You give yourself no rest, Aubrey and human machinery wears rapidly." " But if the powder ground be golden ?" "Th , dust is but dust still, despite its glitter and fills men's eyes and dims their vision lik any other dust ; ending often in a moral oph thalmia past cure. "'The plague of gold strikes far and near, .ud deep and strong it enters. This purple cliimar which we wear, Makes madder than the centaur's; Our thoughts grow blank, our words grow strange, We cheer the pale gold-diggers; Bach soul is worth so much ona'Change, And marked, like sheep, with egures. ' .Be pitiful, o God!'" "I should really dislike to think that yot had become a confirmed, inveterate chrysolo- gist. - Take time, Aubrey I take time; you are overworked, and make months press upon your brow more heavily than years on most men's.. After all, my dear fellow, as.Emerson says, 'Politics is a deleterious profession, like some poisonous handicrafts.' I sometimes feel like drawing a long breath for yott; it wearies me to hook at you-you are such a concent-rted extract of work I work ! Simply for this reason, I sent for you to come ani.take a cup of tea withme." up 1 '" Have been too much engaged of late to spare an evening to merely io ial claims. .A man~ whose I#fe rests at his fea~tto be 'Jifted~tsp somis fitting 'pedestal; has little leisure for the' -luxury of friendly visiting." - The two were ia Erie 'Mitehell's pleasant - library. Russell sat in an arm-chair, arid the de master ofthe house reclinedon.lounge d ; dr awn near thd hearth. ;The mellow glow of iso the lamp, the flash and crackle of the ,ir, the of~ careless, lazy posture; of the ,invalid, lhe n, tokened quiet comfort, save the dark ed face anderect, restless figure of the guest. "But, Aubrey, a man whp has already achieved. somuch should be content to est a rd while, and move more slowly." s, ".That depends altogether on the nature and he distance of his goal." d- :And that goal is-what ?" 'Men, call it by a variety of name' hoping to, scape Lucifer's fate by adroitly cloaking o Lucifer's infirmity." " Yes; and whenever I look at you toiling so ceaselessly, climbing so surely to mine ce, 1 am forcibly reuindedof Macaulay's fine'paa-- y sage; on' the hollowness of political,.life. 'A e" pursuit from which, at n'ost, they can only ex- secit, py relinquishing liberal; studies and ial pleasures, by' passing nights without sleep and summers without one, glin ,se of the beauty of nature,.they mayattaim t at a,- borious, that invidious, that closely-watched slavery which is, mocked ,with the' name of power.' You have not asked my opinion of your speech." . l "I was; not aware that-;ou heard it.".- e " Of course note but I read it; jAnd, let rme ,o tell you, it was a great speech, a iriasterly ar- gument,, that will make a lastingi'mpression upon the.people. It has greatly changed the ', vote-of this county already," e , "You mistake appearances; the-seed fell in - good sail, but party spirit came, as fowls of the air, and devoured them." "At any rate, it produced a profound, im-- pression on public opinion and startled some of our political a riar-s." o, a, mere transitory effect; they have folded their arms and gone to sleep ag 'p am, of course, gratified by your favorat'4ap- preciation of my eF'ort,- but I diffet wit you as 'to-its result. The" ploughshare of' naked truth must thoroughly subsod the mi' f' the Southern states before the futureofbe'coun try is realied in.any degree; as yet, the eur face has been but slightly gr . he hydra- -eaded foe of democracy is slowly bt certain- coiling around 'our Aamrican. 'eagle, and will crush it, ifnott seared.promptly.. Bet, Mr, Mitchell,the "flamig' rands' are. not "To what hydra doyou alludl?" ' Demagogism, of course' lo was the prototype of a' numerous class; t ha shbl. is flourishing vigorongly at th north, and hs toner 'a sraiher e. .'Thp4,eJed itst roo4 istence are -numbed" " History proves it an .ivasble 'cnox. from than. antgonsi t e itra'6% /, 1. page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] MACARIA. "Taou confound the ass and abuse of a sys- tea. Civilization is, indisputably, a blessing: tofour iaee,'-yettan abuie of the yery improve- ments and discoveries that constitute its glory nails incalculable sorrow and.swells criminal statistics. The march"of medical science has induced the ladministering of deadly 'poisons with the happiest results, when -skilfullf di- rested; yet it sometimes happens that fatal effects follow an overdose. Powerful politi- cal'levers should be handled judiciously--not thrown into the clutches of ignorant einpiries." "Ijniversal suffrage is not your hobby, then?"' "On the contrary, I hold, with one of the most brilliant statesmen this country everpro- duced,dthat' it is the Greek horse introduced into the citadel'of-Anerican liberties and 'sov- ereignty."' "On my honor, Iam astounded at hearing you quote and endorse a dictum of Hamilton. The 'millennium can't be -far off, when demo- crat' seek illustration from federalism !" "Igotry in politics is as indefensible as in, religion'or science. -Truth is a sworn foe to mdhopoliats; is the exclusive right of no one 'otgaaization or party that ' ever waxed and waned. I am a democrat ; I believe in liberal, enlarged, but not universal suffrage; it is a precious boob, any;.'hould be hedged about with. ca 'ous restrictions. The creation of the ephor was a sort of compromise measure, ' co cession tolappease' the peopleLof Sparta, and, as.an extension 6f the elective franchise, was most deplorable in its results. Universal suffrage always recalls to my mind the-pithy.' criticism of Anacharsis, the Scythian philoso- pher, on the Solonian code, which lodged too 'much :power in the' hands eof the people : 'Wise men debate' /but. fools decide.' Mr. Mitchell, it. matters little whether We have 'one oi-' one hundred million tyrants if our riglta are trampled; it is a mer' question of 'tastelwhether-you call the despot Czar, lDicta- tor or Ballot-bdx. 'The masses are electrical, anti valu'able principles of government should be kepijtheyend the reach of explosion." ' And, except'in a powerful centralization, where could"you place them"for safety ?" * 4 They are:already. deposited in the consti-' tution. I ould}Fin order.to secure them,'ex- ' tend our naturalization'laws so as to restrict ,tle foreign vote, limit'the right of suffrage by fixing a property qualification, make the ten- ure of our judiciary, offices for life or ,good behavior, andlengthen the term of administra- tio ''our chief magistrate, thereby diminish- .ing the frequency of popular elections, which, in offering premiums for :demsagogism, -'has, been a prol lo use of mischief. °n-examin- ing the stjitistics of the Itorthern and Western states aecently,. and 'noting sthe dangerous sepults4fite cade foreign vote, I was forci- b~ly'temais4d of' a' passage in Burke's t Refiec- tions on dte Fredo Revolution:-' 'Those *vho attempt to level never equalize. In all socie- ties, consisting of various, descriptions of citi- .seps, some description must be uppermost. The levellers, therefore, only change and per- vert the natural -order' of things ; they load the edifice of society by setting up in the air what the solidity of the structure requires to 'be on the ground.' The day is not far distant, I fear when.European paupers, utterly igno- riant of our institutions, will determine who shall sit in the presidential 'chair, and hove far the constitution hall be observed. These are grave truths, which the enlightened body of the American people should ponder well ; but, in- stead, they are made mere catch-words for party purposes, and serve only to induce a new scramble for office. It requires no extra- ordinary prescience to 'predict that the great fundamental principles of this government will soon become a simple question of arithme- tic-will lie at the mercy of an unscrupulous majority. The surgig waves of Northern faction and 'fanaticism already break omi- nously against.our time-honored constitutional' dykes, and if the South would strengthen her bulwarks there is .no time to be slept or wrangled away." As he spoke, Russell's eyes fell upon a large oval vase on the mantle-piece filled with rare exotics, whose graceful tendrils were tastefully disposed into a perfumed fringe. Rising, he looked carefully at the brilliant hues, and said, as he bent-to inhale their fragrance: " Where do you grow such flowers at this season ?" "'Irenebrings them almost every day from the greenhouse on the hill. . She takes ap e- culiar pleasure in arranging them inmy va es. I think she stood a half-hour yesterday twin- ing and bending those stems the way she wanted, their to hang. They. are so brittle' that I snap the. blossoms off, but in her hands they seem pliable enough." Russell' withdrew the fingers which -'had wandered caressingly amid the delicate leaves, and, reseating himself; took a book from his' pocket. - - -.Of " Mr. Mitchell, I dare say ou recollect a discussion which we had, some months ago, re- garding.the Homeric unityquestion? Since that time I have been looking into Payne Knight's views on the subject, and 'am more than ever convinced that the German theory is incorrect. I will read a portion of his argu- ment, and leave the book for you to' examine at your leisure." '' By all means! But I thought 'your red- tape. gyves kept.,you from archaologic re- searches ?" It -is true they do bind me tighter than I sometimes relish ; 'buta we 'are all in bondage; more l ess, Ahnd, since one must, sub'iui to tyrany I prefer a stern utaster."'R e 'drew, hi chs nearer the 'lamp and began to read' alu. 'Nearly a half-hour passed tusy when I6 MACARIAT I the library-door was opened hastily and Ires came in, dressed magnificently in .party co tume. She stood a moment, irresolute 'ai surprised, with her eyes fixed on Russell' then'both bowed silently, and she came to t fire-. "How are you,: Uncle Eric ? You loo flushed-feverish." She, laid her cold pearl hand on 'his forehead and stood at'his side. '"Tolerably comfortable, thanks to Mr. Au brey, who has made me almost forget . m headache. You will be fashionably late at th party to-night." "'Yes ! as usual;, but for a better reaso than because I wish to be fashionable.. Wanted to know.how you were, and, as Fathe was not quite :ready, 1, came in advance- an sent the carriage back foi- him and Hugh. was not aware that you were in Mr. Aubrey hands for the evening. You were reading,, believe ; pardon my intrusion, and do not'le me interrupt you." " Sit down, Irene ; here, child, where I car look 4t you. We can. both bear such an in terruption." Russell closed the volume, but kept hi finger in the leaves, and -his fascinated eye went back to the face and form of the heiress The- dress was of heavy blue silk, -with 'ar overskirt and bertha of rich white lace, loop ed with bunches of violets and geranium leaves " the rippling hair was drawn smoothly over the pure brow and coiled at the back of th head under a blue and silver, netting, from which fuchsias of turquoise and pearl hung low on the polished neck. The arms and shoulders gleamed like ivory as the lamplight glowed over her; and, save the: firm, delicate crimson lips, there was no stain of' color 'in the cold but superbly beautiful face. It was the first time they had met since that evening at the cemetery, many months before. Lift- ing her splendid violet eyes, she niet his gaze an instant, and, tapping the book, Russell asked, with quiet nonchalance: ' "Where do you.stand, Miss Huntingdon, in this 'vexed Wolfian controversy concerning the authorship of the Iliad and Odyssey?" " I would render unto Cesar the things 'that are Cmsar's."g " Equivocal, of course 1-a woman's answer,"' laughed her ugcle. " Explicitly, then, I believe that, as Scott absorbed the crude minstrelsy of.Scotland, and -reproduced national songs and legends under a fairer, sweeter form, so 'Homer, grand old blind eclectic, gathered the fragmentary myths of heroic ages, and, 'clothing'them with the melody of .wandering Greek rhapsodists, gave; to theworld. his wonderful epicA.+he first and last specimen of composite poetic architects- ,."You ascribe the OOyssey, then, to a diffar- -ent author and a lafer period ?" asked Mr. Mitchell. ' . 1 ne 4I am ,too little versed in philology to de )s- terrine so grave a question, My acquaint- id ance with Greek is limitedand I am not Oem- s, petent to the task of onside ll h he h ience in. favor of identity. of;auth ship " She put 'on her' ite cashmere bloak k stood still a-moment, istening. y " Good-night, Un e Eric ;the carriageis coming. I believe should know tho tramp a- of those horses amid' regiment of cavalry. y " Why needyoh menca a r e father come in." "1 'will spare' aim that trouble. Good- n night, Mr. Aubre I She-burned to ave the room, but, in gath- r ering her cloak ound her, dropped her fai. d Russell stooped o' pick it up, and, as he, re- I stored 'it, there. hands met. ' brow flushed, 's but.not even the pale early 'glow of asa I shell crept to her cheek., Again- she raised t her eyes to his, and a haughty, 'dazzling smile flashed over her face-as .sh inclined her head. n " Thank you, sir. - There was a brief silence, broken by Eric, when the sound, of the carriage . had died s away. s " Irene is the only perfectly beautiful wom- an I ever"saw.; and yet, Aubrey, it makes the n sad to watch her countenance." - "Whenever I see'-her- I can not avoid . recalling an' old Scandinavian 'myth,. slie realizes so fully my ideal Iduna stand a e the portals of Valhalla, offering apples of i- mortality." He returned at once to his book and read I several pages, ofcasiohally 'pasn to call t attention to some special passage; finally.he rose and took his hat. "it is early yet, Aubrey; don't go." " Thank you; I must fulfil another en meant " "A word before you leave; will you be' a candidate for the legislature ?"' " Yes I was waited upon by'a committee to-da Gmy .am will . be announced to- daoro,. Good-night." Slowly he walked back to town, ah n upon the iain street, took a new pair of-govnce from his pocket, fitted them earsefull, and directed his steps to the eleganrzt residence whose approach was, well-nigh bloclk4 '4P with carriages.. This was the second time that he had been invited by the ,Iendersops,;and he had' almost 'determined 'to decline as formerly, but somethingin Ireenes :chill man- ner changed his tresolution.:oe kn ew; frOm various circumstances,'that the social 'diet agahint him was beingr'evoked, in fashion le circles; that'because: he hadrisen without'its permissiol,:aidercoUntenaneapfin dfia e of-its sneers,e'.worid:was'heginiing'todonrgi 'him.-A gloomy sepal sat on -his~ stpis he mounted the 'steps of 4the 'innson firim AWhich hais mee and sufferig 'mother hd borne burdlies'of plain wdrk, r delicrqtema a' page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] of embroidery, for the mother and daughter *ho passed her in the street with a supercilious stare.' Beau nande suddenly awoke to the r eo!lection that, " after all, Mrs. Aubrey be- longed' to one of. the M*ealthiest and first fhilies in the Mtate." At first Russell had proudly repelled all overtures, but gradually he was possessed by ,a desire to rule in the' very circle which had so long excluded his fami y. Most folly he appreciated his position 'and the motiyes which actuated the social autocrats of; W----; he was no longer the pqor disgraced clerk, but the talented young lawyer, and prospective heir,of Mr. Campbell's wealth.. Bitterly, bitterly came memories of early'trial,nd now the haughtiness of Irene's manner stung him as nothing else could pos- sibly have done. He was at a loss to compre- bend this change in one *ho had dared so much in order to assist his family, and proud defiance arose in his 'heart.. It was ten o'clock ; the fete was at its height,; the sound of music, the shimmer of jewels, and rustle of costly llks mingled with the hum of conversation and the tread of dancing feet as Russell de- posited hat and overcoat' in the dressing-room And entered the blazing parlors. The'qua- drille had just ended, and gay groups chattered- in the centre of the room; among these, Maria Henderson, leaning on Hugh's arm, and Grace Harris, who had been dancing with Louis Henderson. As, Russell crossed the floor to speak to the host and hostess all eyes turned upon him, and a sudden hush fell on the merry dancers. ,,... "dCoaxed at last within the pale of civilia- tion I how did you contrive it, Louis ?" asked Maria.-.. "Oh I he declined when I invited him; but I believe father saw hiuM afterward and renew- ed the request. Do observe him talking to mother; he is aspolished as if he had spent his ife at court." "He is ai man 'whom I never fancied ; but that two hours speech pf his was certainly the finest effort I eve' listened to. Caesar's am- bition was moderate in comparison with Aubrey's; and, somehow5 even against my will, I can't help admiring him, he is so coolly' independent," said Hugh, eyeing him curi- ously. ' «uslyheard' father.s aythat 'the democrats in- tend to send him to the legislature next term, and the opposition are bothered to match him fully-. By the way, they speak of Mr.. Hun-' tingdon for their candidate. .But here comes' our hero, Miss Maria." ' As he spoke, Charlie Harris drew back a few steps, and .suffered Russell to speak, to the. young lady of the house. Irene stood not far off, talking to the bovrnor othstate, who chanced to be on 'udge Hrris and her father werae 'in earnest aiton, hr eyes folowed him as he bowed to the members of the central group ; and, as she heard the deep rich voice above the buzz of small-talk, she waited to see if h would notice her. Soon Governor G- gave her his arm for a promenade, and she found her- self, ere long, very-near Maria, who was ap- proaching with Russell. He was saying some- thing at which she laughed delightedly ; just' then his eye fell on Irene; there was no token of recognition on the part of either ; but the governor, in passing, put out:his haid to shake Russell's, and asked for Mr. Campbell. Again and again they met during the ensuing hour, but no greeting was exchanged ; then he dis- appeared. As Irene leaned against the win- dow-frame in the crowded supper-room she, heard Charlie Harris gaily bantering Maria on the events of. the evening. ' What have.you done with, Aubrey ?.. I will challenge him before to-morrow morhing, for cutting'me out- of my schottische with his prosy chat." " Oh 1 he left a half-hour ago; excused him- self to mother on the plea of starting off to court at daybreak. He is perfectly 'fascinat- ing ; don't you think so, Grace'? Such eyes and lips 1 and such a forehead !" " Don't appeal to, me for corroboration, I beg of you, Maria, for you really gave nobody else an opportunity of judging. Take a friendly hint, and do not betray your admira- tion so publicly, answered the friend, pouting her pretty childish lip. S"1 see clearly that the remainder of us may as well go hang ourselves at once for any fu- ture favor we can expect, since My, Lord Aubrey condescends to enter the lists. Miss Irene, I have not heard you rhapsodizing yet about the new sensation." " I rarely rhapsodize about anything, sir." " To whom does he allude?" asked Governor G--, good-humoredly." " To Mr. Aubrey; who is no stranger to you, I believe." ". Ah ! Campbell's partner. I have had some correspondence with him recently, and when I met him at his office yesterday I was. no longer surprised at the tone of his letters. His intellect is one of the keenest in the state; his' logical and analytical powers -are of the rarest orders I shall watch hiscareer with great interest. Campbell may justly be proud of him." If she had felt any inclination to reply, the expression of her father's face discouraged her.' He had joined them in time to hear the gov- ernor's pulogium, and she saw a sneer distort his features ashe listened. during the driveQ 'homeward Mr4 Huntingdon suddenly inter- rupted a strain 'of Hugh's nonsense by ex- clanreople have certainly lost common-senSe!i Their memory is not as long as my~ little fingr" "hat is the matter, sir ? With what re.- 4 MALARIA. I to0o MAcARIA.. . i1 l cent proof Qf imbecility have they favored from the cold realm of political economy; he you ?" closed the books, took off his watch, and "The idea of that upstart wheedlinglthis wound it up, - It:wanted but three hours' to community is utterly preposterous. His im- dawn'; but he heeded it not; the sight of the pudence'is absolutely astounding., I am .as- massive old watch brought vividly back the tonished that Henderson should, give him boyish days of sorrow; and he sat thinking of countenance '" that morning of shame, when Irene came'close "The world has strange "criteria to deter- to him, nestling her soft little Hand in hi mine its verdicts. Ihis father was' sentenced and from some long-silent, dark, chill chan- to be hung for committing murder; and my ber of memory leaped sweet, silvery,'childish uncle, Clement Huntingdon, who deliberately echoes: shot a man dead in a duel, was received in " Oh, Russell! if I could only help you!" social circles as cordially as if his hands were 'With .n involuntary sigh he arose, and, not blood-stained. There was more of pallia- walking to the chimney, leaned his elbow e, tion' in- the first case (one of manslaughter), the mantles *But it would not answer; the. for' it was the hasty, accidental work. of a faint, delicious perfume of violets seemed to moment of passion; in the last a cool, pre- steal up from the gray-ashes on .the hearth, meditated taking of human life. But the and the passionless, peerless face of a queenly sensitive, fastidious world .called one brutal woman followed him from the haunts of fash- and disgraceful, and the other ' honorable ion.'. The golden-haired dreani of his early satisfaction,'in which gentlemen could indulge youth had lost none of 'her former witchery. with impunity by crossing state lines. 0 ten- she only shared the masteryy, of his heart pora / 0 moresI" '. with stern, unrelaxing Ambition, and the gulf As. Irene uttered these words she invol- which divided .them only enhanced thedepth, untarily crushed her bouquet and threw it the holiness. of his love for her. Since his from her, while Hugh.expected an explosion return from Europe he had accustomed; him- of wrath on the part of his uncle. He merely self to think of her, as Hugli's wife ; but he muttered an oath, however, and smoked his .found it daily more difficult to realize that cigar in sullen silence, leaving the cousins to she could willingly give her hand to her heed- discuss the events of the party during the re- less, self-indulgent cousin'; and now the alter- mainder of the ride. ation in her manner toward him perplexed Once more in his own room, at the quiet and grieved him. Did she-suspect the truth, boarding-house, Russell lighted the gas-burner and fear that he might presume on her charity over a small desk and sat down to mass of in by-gone years? '.To his proud spirit this papers. The apartment was cold'; the fire had was a suggestion singulaly insulting, and he long ince (lied out; the hdarth'looked ashy and had resolved to show her in futurethat he desolate. There was nothing home-likeorcosy claimed not even a .nod of recognition. Inr- in the aspect'of the room; the man lived at stead of avoiding her as formerly, he would his office, and this was but a place to pass the seek occasions to exhibit an indifference which brief unconscious hours of sleep. He had no he-little thought that-her womanly heart would home-life, no social existence:; was fast becom- rightly interpret. le had found it more dif- ing callous, impervious, to the gentler emotions ficult than lie supposed to keep ais attention and kindly sympathies which domestic. ties chained to Maria's and Grace's gay nonsense; foster and develop. No wdmanly touch left to prevent his eyes from wandering to 'the face pleasant traces here, as in Erie's home; no whose image was enshrined iphis' lonely graceful, luxurious trifles 'met the eye ; all heart; and now, with complex feelngs of ten- things were cold and prim and formal. He deriess and angry defiance, he soughthi pil- had no kindred and few friends, but unbound- low for a short respite before thejourney that ed aspiration stood in lieu of both. Fortu- waited but for daylight. lately for him, his great physical - strength For a few weeks all W-- - was astir with enabled hi'm to pursue a course of study which interest in the impending election ; ,newspaper men of feebler .constitution could never have columns teemed with caustic articles, :and endured. On the,.desk lay several volumes, Iuntingdon, and Aubrey clubs vilified each carefully annotated for future . reference- other with the. usual:.acrimony obf'. such occa- Ricardo, Malthus, Say, and Smith. To these sions. Mr. Camp ell's influencewas exten- he turned,,td busied himself in transferring sive, but the ,Luntingdon supporters',were such .excerptsas suited.his purpose to an un- powerful, and the 'result seemed doubtfuliun- finished M19S. designed for future legislative til the. week- previous. to the election,' when service. The brilliant:smile which lighted his Russell, who had as yet taken no active ,art, face an hour before, imparting 'an rresistible accepted the challenge of" histopponent t80 a ohry had wholly faded, leaving the features public discussion. The meeting was held in to their wonted grave immobility-the accus- front- of the cout-thoise; the .massive stone tomed non-coninuttahism of the business-man of steps' serving- as a' temporary rostrum, 'tlhe the world "e measured tones of the watch- night was dark' and cloudybut hugehonfires man on the twn-tower recalled him, finally, 'blazing barrelt of; pith, threw j luridTIAir page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 10MACAAIA. over. the broad street, now converted into a ing the people of the state; warned the oppo- sdrging sea of human heads. sition of the probable results of their policy, Surrounded by a committee of select friends if triumphant; and, with resistless eloquence, Mr. Ituntingdon sat, confident of success; and pleaded for-a firm maintenai -e of the princi'- when, the hiss of' rockets ceased, he came for- pies of his own party. He was, he averred, ward and addressed'the assembly in an hour's no alarmist, but he proclaimed that the people speech. As a warm and rather prominent slept upon the thin having crust of a volcano politician, he was habituated to the task, and which would inevitably soon burst forth ;. and bursts of applause from his own party fre- the period was rapidly approaching when the quently attested the effect of his easy, grace- Southern states, unless united and on the ful ptyle and pungent irony. Blinded by alert, would lie bound- at the feet of an in- persodal hate, and hurried on by the excite- solent and rapacious Northern faction. ''He ment of the hour, he neglected the cautious .demanded that, through the legislatures, the policy which had hitherto been observed, and states should appeal to Congress for certain fin ' launched into a fierce philippic against restrictions andguarantees which, if denied, hi'antagost-holding .up for derision the would justify extreme measures on the part of ;melancholy fate of hisnfather, and sneeringly 'the people. The man's marvellous magnetism denouncing the " audacious pretensions of a was never more' triumphantly attested; the political neophyte." ' mass, who had listened in profound silence to Groans and hisses greeted this unexpected every syllable which passed his lips, now vent. peroration, and many of his own friends bit ed their enthusiasmin prolonged and vocifer-' their lips and' bent their brows in angry stir- ous applause and vehement cries of "'Go on! prise, as he took his seat amid an 'uproar go on I" The entire absence of stereotyped which' would have been respectable even.1in Thodomontade rendered his words peculialy the days of the builders of Babel. Russell impressive, as he gave them utterance with no was sitting on the upper step, with his' head visible token of enthusiasm. He did not lash leaning o his hand and his eyes fixed on the the passions of the 'populace into a passing mass of upturned, eager faces, listening pati- phrensy, but effectually stirred the great deep ently to the lengthy address, expecting just of sober feeling and sound sense. With his what lie was destined to hear. ,At the men- elegant, graceful delivery, and polished, spark- tion of his family misfortunes"he lifted his ling diction, he stood, as it were, on some lofty- head, rose, and, advancing a. few steps, took cool peakstal, and pointed unerringly to com- off his hat and stood confronting the speaker ing events, whose shadows had not yet reached, in full view of the excited crowd. And there them, of which they had not dreamed before, .the ved light, flaring over his- features, showed and it was not wonderful that the' handsome a caln, steru,'self-reliant man, who felt that young speaker became an idol tobe worshipped' he had nothing to blush for in the past or to afar off.' dread in 'the future. When the tirade ended, As he descended the steps anti disappeared when the tumult ceased and silence fell upon amid the shouts of the crowd, Judge Harris the audiehee, he turned and 'fixed his deep, turned to Mr. Huntingdon and said, with ill- glowing eyes'full on the Face of his opponent concealed annoyance: for one moment, smilino- haughtily ; then, as " You'have lost your election by your con- Mr. Huntingdon quaileti before his withering founded imprudence." gaze, he crossed lis arms over his chest and " That remains to be seen, 'sir," was the addressed thep meeting. petulant rejoinder. He came,. he said, to discuss questions of ' " It is a foregone conclusion," muttered Dr. grave airport to the state, not the pedigree or Arnold,' buttoning his overcoat* and looking' antecedents of his antagonist, with wch,he around for his cane. ' supposed,' the public had no concern. He " I have sworn a solemn oath that I will could not condescend to the level of the gen- trample the upstart out of existence, at least tleman ; was not a proficient, not his equal in politicallyP"' slang phrases, or gross, vulgar vituperation, . "As well try to trample on the stars yonder!' and scorned to farther insult the geod taste of Your speech ruined you, I am afraid n" his beavers by acquainting them with the con- 'The judge walked off, pondering a heavy temptible motives of individual hatred which bet which he had relative to the result. . had induced his opponent to forget what the . By sunrise ,on the day of the "election the rules of good-breeding and etiquette impera- roads leading to town were crowded with vot-' tively demanded. .lHe would not continue to ers' making their way to the polls. The 'disgrace the occasion by any refutation of the drinking-saloons were full to overflowing ; the-' exceedingly irrelevant portion Qf the praeced-- sidewalks thronged with reeling goups'as mny harangue, Which related to purely personal the day advanced. 'Becatise the Huntingdon matters and -was unworthy of notice, but side bribed freely, the Aubrey p rtisans felt asked the attention of his hearere, fdi, a' few that they must, from necessity, follow the dis' moments, While he 'analyzed-the platform of gaceful precedents Not a lady showed her his party. Briefly hie stated the issues divid- face upon' the street ; drinking, wrangling, I' I MACAU$IA, 1O3 f fighting, was theorder of thesay..: Windows were smashed, buggies overturned, and the police exercised to the-utmost. Accompanied' by a few friends, Mr. Huntingdon' rode from poll to poll, encouraging his, supporters and drawing heavily.upon his purse, while-Russell remained quietly in his .office,.well assured of the result. At five o'clock, when the town polls closed, Russell's votes showed a majoI ity of two hundred and forty-four.. Couriers came in constantly from. country precincts, with equally favorable Accounts, and at ten o'clock it was ascertained, beyond doubt, that he was elected. Irene and her uncle rode down to learn the truth, and, not .knowing where to find Mr. Huntingdon, stopped the carriage at .the corner of the main street and waited a. few moments. - Very soon a rocket whizzed through the air, a band of music - struck.up before Russell's office, and a number of his adherents insisted that he should show himself on the balcony. A crowd immediately collected opposite, cheering the successful can- didate and calling for a speech. He came out, and, in, a few happy, dignified words thanked them for the honor inferred, and pledged himself to guard most faithfully the interests committed tohis keeping. After the noisy constituents had retired he stood talking to some friends, when he chanced to recognize, the fiery horses across the street. The car-; riage-top was thrown back, and by the neigh- boring gaslight he saw Irene's white- face turned toward him, then the horses sprang off. Mr. .Campbell noticed, without under- standing, the.sudden start and bitter though triumphant smile that crossed.his face in the midst of pleasant gratulations, "Go home, Andrew. I know now what I came to learn." .rene sank back. and folded her mantle ' closer around her. "Is Master elected ?" "Your father's speech, last week, was most unfortunate in every respect," said her uncle, who felt indignant and mortified at the course pursued by his brother-in-law. " We will not discuss it, if you please, Uncle Erie, as it isentirely useless now." " Don't you think that Aubrey deserves to succeed ?". " Yes." Her dreary tone disconcerted him, and he offered no further comment, little suspecting; that her hands were pressed hard against here heart and that her voiceless sorrow, was: "Henceforth we must be still more estranged; a wider gulf, fromthis night, divides us." SThe. din, the tumult of the day, had hushed itself, and deep silence brooded over th~e sleep- ing town, when, by the light of the newly-risen moon, Russell leaned upon the little gate and gazed on, the neglected cottage, overgrown with vines and crumbling to ruin. A. sweet, resigned face smiled at him, once more from the clustering tendrils that festopne' the, broken window, where, in -other years, hpi niotl er had been wont to sit at work,'wate* ing fpr,his return,; and, in this'hour ofhigAfrst triuniph, as he sought the. hallowed' sot anda thoughts of her longinartyrOd , reco leetoio rolled its troubled waves over his.throbbing, exultant heart, until-the proud head dropped on the folded arms and-tears' fell 'upon the mouldering gate. "Oh, Mother ! Mother ! if you could have lived to see this day--to share my victory i".' "Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of ,mychildhood, Earth seemed-a desert I was 'bound to traverse, Seeking to 'find the old familiar faces. All, all are gone, the old familiar faces 1" CH APTER XXII.s The icy breath of winter,:the mild wander= ing airs' of spring, the luxurious laissez-aous- faire murmurs of summer,and the solenn moan of' autumn had followed 'each other in rapid succession. Two years rolled on; stained with the tears of many, ringing with the son's and laughter of a fortunate few. The pates of some had widened into sunny pastures, flower-starred, Cridavana meadows;' others. had grown' narrower still, choked with the debris of dead hopes, which the tide of time; drifted from the far-off glitterng eaks of early aspirations. .,The witchery of Southern spring again enveloped W -, aid'Irene stood on- the lawn surveying' the "greenery of the out-door world "' that surrounded her. Peach and plum orchards, on the slope of a neighboring hill wore their, festal robes f 'promise ..and: as the loiteringg breez-,stet, down to the. valley they showered rosy pe9 fumed 'shells, tiny avant .couriers of abum ant, fruitage. The air was redolent ith delhate distillations from a thousand flowery laborato- ries, stately magnolias rustled 'their: polished shimmering leaves, long-haired acaciastrailed their fringy shadowsiover the young wavering grass-blades, and, far above. the 'soft green wilderness of tangled willows,' regal pines spread out their wind-harps,. glittering in the sunshine like spiculan of silver. A deligious languor brooded in the atmosphere; the ditant narrow valleys were full,.of purple haze; be- yond' and above - the. town, that' nestledso peacefully along the river banks,;the marble fingers of the cemetery glaaiedae *hte and cold ; and afar off, and over all,;was heard the measured ausic of 'fatory blls, hbant a hymnuto sacred and eternal Laborn.' it eri brotn straw hat Tin one hand d da willow basket filled with flowers in the other; rene leaned against the glossy trunk of.in 'aneiexn wild-cherry: tree, 'and hooked in dream'b straction down the lqng shadowy vista ofveni- page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 MALARIA. erable elms. Paragon lay panting on the grass at her feet, now and then snapping playfully at the tame pigeons who had followed their un tress out upon the lawn, fluttering and cooing continually around her ; and 'a few yards off a golden pheasant and two peacocks sunned their gorgeous plumage on the smooth- ly-cut hedges. Some faces show The last act of a ttagedy in their regard; Though the Bret scenes be wanting -" and in this woman's sad but intensely calm countenance a joyless life found silent history. The 'pale forehead bore not a single line, the quiet sotith no-ripple-marks traced by rolling years;. but the imperial eyes, coldly blue as the' lonely ice-girt M'rjelen-See, revealed, in their melancholy crystal depths, the dreary isolation of soul with. which she had been cursed from, infancy. Her face was an ivory tablet inscribed with.hieroglyphics which no social, friendly Champolion had yet deciphered. Satiated with universalhomage, weary of the frivolity of the gay circle surrounding her,, and debarred from- all hope of afectionate, sympathetic intercourse with her father, her real life was apart from the world in which report said that she ruled 'supreme. She wandered 'in the primeval temples of nature, and ministered, a solitary priestess, at the.si- lent, blazing shrine of Astronomy. The soft " folds of her white muslin dress stirred now and then, and the blue ribbons 'that looped back her braided hair flittered like mimic pennons- in the breeze'; but the clematis bells which clustered around her cameo-pin were unshaken by the slow.pulsations of her sad.heart. She felt that her life was passing rapidly, unim-, proved, and aimless; she knew that her years, S stead of being fragrant with the mellow , itage of good deeds, were tedious and joy- less, and that the- gaunt, numbing hand of ennui was closing upon her. The elasticity of spirits, the buoyancy of youth, had given place to a species of stoical mute apathy; a mental and moral paralysis was stealing over her. The slamming of the ponderous iron gate attracted her attention, and she saw a carriage -ascending the avenue. As it reached a point opposite to the sp6t where she stood it lahed, the door was thrown open, and a gentleman stepped out and approached her. The form was not familiar, and the straw hat partially veilts the features, but, he paused before her and said, with ,a genial smile: "Don't you know tne ?" - "Oh, Harvey!' My brother! My great guardian angels"! A glad light kindled in her face, and, she stretched out her hands with the eagerness of a delighted child. ' Time had 'pressed heavily 'upon him ; wrink les were conspicuous about the corners of his eyes and' mouth,.and the black hair had become a steely gray. He wse not " A little sunburnt by the glare of-lfe," but weather-beaten by its storms; and, in lieu of the idiosyncratic placidity of former days, a certain restlessness of expression betokened internal disquiet. Holding her hands, he drew her nearer to -him, scrutinized her features, and a look of keen sorrow crossed his own as he said, almost inaudily: " I feared as much ! I feared as mugh I The shadow has spread." "You .kept Punic faith with me, sir ; you promised to write and failed. I sent you one letter, but it was never answered." " Through no fault of mine, Irene ; I never received it, believe me. True, I expected to write to you frequently when I parted with you, but subsequently determined that it would be best not to do so. Attribute my silence, however, to every other cause than want of remembrance." " Your letters would have been a great stay and comfort to me." " Precisely for that reason I sent none. I knew that you must.rely upon yourself; that .I could not properly judge of the circum- stances which surrounded and influenced youi One, at least,.of my promises has been faith- fully fulfilled: I have prayed for you as often as for myself in all these years of separation." " God only knows how I have wanted, how J have needed you, to guide and strengthen me." . 'She raised thetwo hands that still held hers and bowed her forehead upon them. " You had a better Friend, dear child, al- ways near you, who would have given surer guidance and borne all your burdens. What I most dreaded has come 'to pass. You have forgotten your God." - , " No ! indeed, no ! but He has forsaken. me." " Come and sit down here, and tell me what the trouble is." He led her to a circular seat surrounding a venerable oak, and placed himself where he coulC1 command a full view of her face. " Mr. Young, you must have had a hard life out West: you have grown old so fast since I saw you. But you have been doing good, and that is sufficient recompense."-. " I have, of course, endured some hardships inseparable from such a long sojourn on the frontier, but my labors have been so'successful that I forget everything in my great reward. Many a fair June dayl have wished that you' could see my, congregation, as we stood up to' sing in a cool shady grove of beech or hack- berry, offering our orisons in *'God's first temples.' No brick and mortar walls, but pavements of God's own living green, and dome of blue, and choir of skinless consecrated birds. My little log-cabin in tile far West is very dear'to me, for around it cluster some of the most precious reminiscences of my life. The greatest of my unsatisfied wants was that of congenial companionship. I betook myself U. M ACARIA. .1I to gardening in self-defence, and finer annuals "It is a cloud that enveloped mofrom the you never sa~w than those which I r-aised on 'hour of my birth, and grows denser each year; my hill-side. My borders I made of iigno- I cau neither escape from'nor dissipate it. It nette, and the rusty froit of my cabin I draped will not break in-storms and clear away,; but,. with beautiful festoons of convolvulus. My perchance, as I go down to my tomb the silver hermitage was pleasant enough, though hum- lining may show itself., The sun'was eclipsed 'ble indeed." . when I first opened my eyes in this world, and, " Tell, me the secret of your quiet content-' my future was faithfully adumbrated. I am meant. By what spell do you invoke the not superstitious, but I can not be blind to the atmosphere of happy serenity that constantly striking analogy-the sombre symbolism." surrounds you ?" His grave face was painfully convulsed as he "It is-neither occult nor cabalistic; you will- listened to her, and it was with, di finplty that find it contained in 'the few words .of. Paul: he restrained himself from drawing the head to 'Be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abound- his shoulder and' revealing 'all the depth and ing in the work of the Lord ; forasmuch as ye strength of love which had so 'long rpled his know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.' heart and, saddened his life. But he, merely There is nothing recondite in this injunction ; enclosed her hand in' both his with a gentle, all may comprehend and practice it." . pressure, and said : " It may seem so to you, who dispense peace " Carry out your metaphor, and at least yous and blessings wherever, you move ; but to me, must admit that,,though the sun was eclipsed, alone and useless, cut off fromuch a sphere stars come out to light you." of labor, it might as well be locked up in .Par- "But, at best, one shivers and gropes through see. I thought odce .that God created every the cold light of stars, and mine have all, set in human being for some particular work-some a clouded sky. You.only are left to me; you special mission. That, in order that the vast shine on me still, undimmed, all the brighter social machinery of the world might move bar- for my gloom. Oh.! if I could have you moniously, each had his or her allotted duties, always. But as well stretch out my hands to in accordance with the great fundamental law clutch the moon." , t hd of economy-' division of labor.' But, like He started;and looked at her wistfully, but many other youthful theories, I have been: the utter passionlessness of her face and man-' compelled to part with this also." ncr showed him all too plainly the nature of " Rather hold fast to it, for the precious her feelings and her ignorance of his own,', truth it is. Do you not find, on reflection, " Irene, you dealin similies and vague gen- that the disarrangement,. theconfusion in this eralities. Has absence shaken your confidene& same social mill proves that some of the hu- in me? Be frank ;,tell me what this haunt-. man cogs are broken, or' oht of' place, or not ing trouble is, and let me help .you to exor- rendering their part ? I am older than you, cise it." and have travelled farther, and I have. yet to " You can, not. All. the traphim of the see the New Atlantis where every member of East would not avail. Let it suffice that,, society discharges fully the duties assigned. many years since, I 'displeased my father in a "1 might say. In a world full of lips that lack bread, trifling matter ; and; as I grew older, my views And of souls that lack light. titere are mouths to be fed. and wishes conflicted with his. I disappointed There a-e wounds to ihe healed. thet'e is work to ie done, a darling plan which he had long cherished, And life can withhold love and duty from none" andari and_ we, are estranged. We live, here,, father,,, " Irene, 'why stand ye ,here all the (lay and daughter, in luxury ; we give and-go to idle ?' Why wait afar off to glean, where you parties andedinners; before the' world we 'keep should be a busy reaper in God's whitening up the semblance of affection and goodl feel- harvett-fields ?-closing your ears to the eager ing; but he car not, will not, forgive me. I cry, The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers have ceased to ask or to expect it; the only are few !'" - possible condition of reconciliation is one to A wintry smile flitted over her lips and she which I can' never consent ; -and, for more shook her htead.. than two-years, he has scarcely ,pokln 'to me " Al, sir'! long ago I marked out a different except when compelled to -do so. I pass my programme ; but my hands are tied. I am led days in a monotonous round, wishing for to. along another path.; I can do nothing now." morrow, and my nights ;yonder, .among the " You owe allegiance first to your Maker, stars. I have little money to dispense in chari What 'stands between you and your work? ty ; I dress richly, hut the materials are select -Irene, tell me what is this dark-cloud that ed by my father, who.will have my clothing shuts out sunshine from your heart and throws of the costliest fabrics, to suit his eleffant and such a c1111. shadow over your face ?" . fastidious taste. Though a t only e'ild,and He- drew down thte hand with which 'she presutnptive heiress of one of-the finest estates shadedl 11cr eyes, and bent his head till ,the at the South, I- have not a dime itt the world gray locks toucited hter cheek. She (lid not whiich I Oan call -mg own, except a small. sum shrink away, but looked at him steadily, and which he voluntarily' allows'~me per' annum. answered : . . Mark you, I do' not complain 6f my 'father- page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 , MACARIA. MACARIA. . 10y for, in the twinkling of an eye; I could change this unnatural position of affairs in my home ; only mention-some 'stern facts to prove to you that my hands are tied. It was once the fdndest desire of my life to expend the fortune that I'supposed-belonged to me in alleviating suffering and want and making people happy around me ; but, like 'other dewy sparkles of childhood, this hope vanished as the heat and strife of life overtook me." Shetspoke in a lowmeasured tone; unshaken by'emotion, and' the expression of dreary ab- straction showed that she had long accustom- ed herself to .this contemplation of'her lot. The minister was deeply moved as he watched her beautiful calm features,'so hushed in their joylessness, and he passed his hand across his eyes to wipe away the moisture that so un- wontedly dimmed them. 'He press O her fin- gers to his-lips and said, encouragingly: "'Lift thyself up! oh, thou of saddened face!- euse from yh sighing, draw from out thy heart' The Joyful light of frith' " "You asked me once to be your brother ; my dear child, let me prove myself such now; let me say that, perhaps, it is your duty to yield obedience to your father's wishes, since R this deplorable alienation results from your refusal. You -never can be happy, standing in this unnatural relation to' an only parent. Because it is painful, and involves a sacrifice on your part, should you consider it any the less your duty ? Has:he not a right to expect that'his' wishes should guide you ?"' She rose instantly, and, withdrawing ;her hands, folded them together and replied, with an indescribable minghng of hauteur and sor- row: " Has he a right to gi e my hand to aman whom I do not love'? Has 'he a.right to drag me to the altar, and force me to swear to 'love and honor' one whom I can not even respect'? Could you stand by and see your father doom your sister to such a miserable fate ?; I would consent to die for my father tomorrow, if thereby I might make him happy; but I can not endure to live, and bring upon myself the curse of a loveless marriage ; and, God is my witness, I never will!~" Her eyes gleamed like blue steel, and the stern, gem-like features vividly reminded him of a medal of the noble Medusa which he had. frequently examined 'and admired while in Rome. In that' brief flash he saw, with aston- ishment, that 'beneath the studiedly calm ex- terior lay an iron will and a rigidness of pur- pose which he had never conjectured belonged to her character. "Forgive me, Irene ; I retract my words. Ignorant of the nature of the demand, I should not, havd presumed sto counsel you. Keep true to, the -instinctse of your own heart, and you will never go far astray in th'-path of duty. 'May God bless and comfort you! O th- er friends can lend you no assistance in these peculiar circumstances." ' He could not.trust hiinself to say more, for feelings too' painful for utterance stirred the depthspf his soul. For "some moments silence reigned; then, standing before him, Irene said, with touching pathos :k "My friend, I am so desolate ! so lonely ! I am drifting down the current of life aimless, hopeless, useless ! What shall I do with my future ? I believe I am slowly petrifying ; I neither suffer nor enjoy as formerly; my feel- ings are deadened;,I am growing callous, in- different to everything. I am fast losing sym- pathy for the sorrows of others, swallowed up in self, oblivious of the noble aspirations which spanned the early years like a bow of promise. I am cut off from companionship; have no 'friend, save an uncle, to whom I could put out my hand for sftpport. People talk of the des-, olation of Western wilds and Eastern deserts; but, ohI God knows there is no isolation . comparable to that. of a woman who walk daily through halls of wealth ard gay salons, knowing that no human being understands or truly sympathizes with her. My prophet ! as you long ago foretold, I am 'treading the wine-press alone.' Once more I ask you, what shall I do with my life ?"Y " Give it to God." " Ah! 'there is neither grace nor virtue in necessity. He will not accept the worthless thing thrown at His. feet' as a dernier ressort. Once it was my choice, but the pure, clear- eyed faith of my childhood shook hands with me when you left me in New York."; For a short while he struggled with himself, striving to overcome the unconquerable im- pulse which suddenly prompted him, and his face grew pallid as hers as he walked hastily across the smooth grass and cane back to her. Her countenance was lifted toward the neigh- borifig, hill, her thoughts evidently far' away, when he paused before her and said, unsteadi- ly: "Irene, my beloved ! give yourself to'me. Go with me into God's vineyard ; let us'vork together, and consecrate our lives to His ser- vice." The mesmeric eyes gazed into his, full of wonder, and the rich ruby tints fled from her lips as she pondered his words in unfeigned astonishment, and, shaking her regal head, an- swered slowly : " Harvey, I am not-worthy. I want your counsel, not your. pity." " Pity'! you mistake me. If you have been ignorant so long, know now that I have loved you' from the evening you first sat in my study looking over my foreign sketches. You were then a child, but I was a man, and I kniew all that you -had so suddenly become to me. Be- cause of this great disparity in years, .and because I dared not hope that one so tenderly nurtured could ever brave the hardships of my projected life, 'I determind 'toquit New Yorkearlier than I had 'anticipated,.and te bury a' foolish memory in the trackless forests of the far West. I ought to have known the fallacy of my expectation; I have'proved it since. Your face followed me'; your eyes met mine at every turn'; your glittering hair swept on every breeze that touched my cheek. I battled with the image, but it would not avail; I i'esolved not to write to you, but found that the dearest part of my letter's from home consisted of the casual allusions which they contained to you., Then came' tidings from Louisa that you were probably married-had longbeen engaged to your cousin;and,though it wrung my heart to think of you as the wife of another, I schooled myself to hope that, for your sake, it might be true. But years passed; no confirmation reached me; and the yearning to look on your dear face once more took pos- session of me. 'My mother wrote, urging me to visit her this summer, and I came out of my way to hear ofrand to see you. The world eers at the possibility of such love as mine, and I doubt not that it is very rare among men ; but, through all the dreary separation; I have thought of you as constantly, and fond" ly, and tenderly as when I first 'ret you in my father's house. Irene,- you are young, and singularly beautiful, and I am a gray-haired man, much, much older than yourself; but, if you live 'a thousand years, you will never find such Affection as I' offer you now: There is nothing on earth which would make 'me so happy as the possession of your love. You are the only woman I have ever seen whom I even wished to call my wife-the only woman who,. I felt, could lend new charm to life and make' my quiet hearth happier by her- presence. Irene, wiill you' share my 'future ? Can you give me what I ask ?" The temptation was powerful-the future he held out enticing indeed. The' strong, holy, manly love, the noble heart and head to guide her, the firm, tender hand fo support her, the constant, congenial, and delightful companion- ship-all this passed swiftly through her mind; but, crushing all in its grasp, came the memory of one whom she rarely met, but who held undisputed sway over her proud heart. Drawing close to the minister, she laid her hands on his shoulder, and, loodng reverently' up into his fine face, said, in her peculiarly sweet clear voice : "The knowledge ofyour priceless, unmrited love makes meproud beyond degree;.but I would not mock you by the miserable and only return I could make you-the affection of a devoted sister. I would gladly, thankfully go .w-th'yo to yorWestrn hm, and redee my pst byfur et , a yor wie could not ; and, without the protection of your honored name, it-would not be permitted ie to accompany you. I look up to you as to no f other human being; I revere arid love you, Harvey ; and, oh! 'I[wish that I could pass .my life at your side, cheered 'by your smile, doing some good in the world. That I do not 'love you as you wish is my great misfortune; for I appreciate most fully the noble privilege' you have tendered me. I do not say what I earnestly wish could happen, that you will find some one else who qan make you happy, because, I feel that no tnoman whom I have ever met is worthy of beingfyour wife. 'But I trust that the pain I may give you now will soon pass away, and that, in time, you will forget one who is utterly undeservingof the .h9uor you have conferred on her to-day. Oh, Harvey ! do not,'I beg of you, let one thought of me ever disquiet your noble, gen- erous heart." A shiver crept over her still face, and' she drooped her pale forehead. She felt two tears fall upon her hair, and - in silence he bent down and kissed her softly,,tenderly, as one kisses a sleeping babe. dO , fHarvey ! do not let it grieve you, dear friend -" He smiled sadly, as if not daring to trust himself in words ; then, after a moment, laying his hands upon her head, in.the baptism.of a deathless love, he gently.and solemnly blessed her. When his fingers were removed she raisedther eyes, but he had gone;she saw only the retreating form through the green arches of the grand old avenue. "Unlike are we. unlike,-O princely heart! Unlike our uses and our destinies. Our ministering tio angels look surprise On one another, as they strike athwartr Their wings inpassing........ The chrism is on thine head-on mine the dew, And death must dig the level where these agree." CHAPTER XXIII. Says D'Alembert:. " The industry of men is now so far exhausted in Canvassing for, places that- none is left for 'fulfilling, the duties, of them ;". and the history of our government 'furnishes a melancholy parallel. The regular quadrennial storm had swept over the nation; caucuses had been held and platforms fiercely, fought for, to be kicked away, plank byplank, when they no longer served as scaffolding by which to climb to office. Buchanan wag elected,' but, destined to exempilify, during hiS administration, the truth of Tacitus' words: He was regarded as greater than a private, man whilst lie remainedirn privacy, and would' have been deemed worthy of governing if he had never governed." The heat of the can= vass cooled, people settled down once more to ad sold, sowed and reaped as uua-lttl realizing that the 'temporary lull, the perfect calm, was treacherous as the glassy green ed- page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 MACARIA. panse of waters which, it is said, sometimes covers the location of the all-destroying mnl- strom of Moskoe. Itaving taken an active and prominent part in the presidential cam- paign, and made frequent speeches, Russel1 found himselfagain opposed by Mr. Hunting- don, who was-egually indefatigable during the exciting contest. The old feud received, if possible, additional acrimony, and there were no bounds to the maledictions heaped. upon the young and imperturbable legislator by his virulent antagonist. Many predicted a duel or a street r'encounter; but weeks passed, and though, in casual-meetings, Mr. Hunting- don's glare of hate was always'answered by a mocking smile of cold disdain, the cloud floated off without breaking into bloody showers. Mr. Mitchell's health had failed so rapidly, as winter approached, that Dr. Arnold per- suaded him to try the efficacy of a sea-voyaze, and he had accordingly sailed. from New Or-I leans in a vessel bound for Genoa. Irene1 begged the privilege of accompanying him, but her father peremptorily refused ; and she saw her uncle depart, and superintended the4 closing of his house, with silent sorrow, and the feeling of one who knows that the night is deepening around her. In the course of the - political cataclysi much chaff came to the surface, and whirled along with portentous 1 alacrity; gossip seemed to have received a new impetus, and among the most important on-ditsl was, that of' Irene's speedy marriage to her cousin. Hundred-tongued rumor was busy, too, with the mysterious fact that, Russell hadI laced a handsome iron railing, around the humble home of his boyhood ; had removed' the little three-roomed crumbling dwelling and planted shade-trees. Much curiosity was I excited, and the only plausible solution att which the kindly inquing public arrived was .that he imtende d to marry somebody. Buti whom ? He o(casionally visited at Judge Har- ris' and Mr. Henderson's, and, as he had been seen last at the house of the former, by a spe- s cies of not very abstruse ratiocination it wasu finally decided, and promulgated as a social i edict, that the talented young lawyer would soon claim GracO's hand at the altar. In less than twenty-four hours all of fashionable W-.--h---had discussedd the young lady's I brilliant future, and were ready to tender their congratulations to the ambitious man, t who was utterly unconscious of the commotion - which his individual plans and actions had t induced., This insatiable mania for obtainin t information about other people's affairs and purposes, this ridiculous and contemptible g tittle-tattle, this news-mongering, scandal-ped- I lering proelii ity, characteristic of' cities, towns, r villages, and- even country neighborhoods,t should( certainly have been included 'by their Miassaebusetts seer in his catalogue of "social a inflict ions which the magistrate can hot cure or c defend you from, and which must be intrusted I to the restraining force of custom, a'nd pro- verbs, and familiar rules of behavior impressed on young people in their .school-days.;" and I trust I may be allowed the additional sug- gestion, "by mothers around-the hearthstone." But, unfortunately, the admirable adage, "it faut attendre le boiteux," finds no acceptation in beau monde. . Late, in the afternoon of Christmas-day Irene went into the greenhouse to gather a bouquet for an invalid friend in town, and had almost accomplished her errand when the crash and whir of wheels drew her to the win- dow that looked out upon the lawn. Her father had gone to the plantation early that- morning, and she had scarcely time to conjecte ure whom -the visitor would prove, when Hugh's loud voice rang through the house, and, soon after, he came clattering in, with the end of his pantaloons crammed into his boots and his whip trailing along in true boyish fashion. As he threw down his hat, scattering the petals of a snowy camellia, and drew near his cousin, she sa* that his face was deeply flushed and his eyes somewhat blood- shot. . . . " Hugh ! what are you doing here ? Father expected you to' overtake him at Crescent Bend ; you said last night that you would start by five o'clock." . " Merry Christmas, my beauty ! I have come for my Christmas gift. Give it to me, like the queen you are." He stooped, -as if to kiss her, but she shrank back instantly and said, gravely: "You ought not to make promises which you have no idea of keeping ; Fat her will be annoyed, and wonder very much what has' happened.' le was anxious that you should go with him." " Oh! confound the plantation ! I wish it would sink ! ,0f' all other days none but Christ- mas will suit him to tramp down there through, mud and mire. The fact is, I did not. go to leep till four o'lock, and nobody ought to be unchristian enough to expect me to wake up n an hour. You may be quiet, though, for I am on my way now to that paradise of black mud. I only stopped to get a glimpse of you, my Sappho! my Corinna ! so (lot homilize, I pray you." Better wait till daylight, [-ugh ; you know he state of the roads and coudition of the bridges. It will be safer, and an economy of tue, to defer' it till morning, since you have made it so late" ". "No; I must go to-night, for I have an en- agement to ride with Maria Henderson, and can't get hack in time' if'I wait till to-mor- ow morning. I want to start- hack day after o-morrow. As for time, Wildfire will make tthe better for the darkness; he is as much fraid of' night and shadows as itf he had a -onscience, and had maltreated it, master'-like'. shall convince him that all Tam O'Shanter's I witches are in full pursuit and his matchless heels his only salvation." A shade of apprehension- settled on her face, and, placing the bouquet in a basket, she turned tQ her- cousin, saying: "Indeed, you can not be insane enough to drive that horse'such a night as this weather threatens. If go you wi'l, in the face of a coming rain, leave Wildfire here, and drive one of the carriage-horses"instead: I shall be uheasy if you start with that Vicious, unman- ageable .incarnation of lightning. Let me ring the bell and direct Andrew'-to make the change." -. .She stepped into the parlor adjoining and laid her fingers on the bell-cord, but he snatched up the hand and kissed it several times. - "NoI I '11 be hanged if I don't-drive my own pearl of Arabia I I can manage him well enough; and, beside, what do you care whether he breaks my neck or not? Without com- punction you broke my heart, which is much the greater catastrophe." "Come into the library; you don't know what you are say ing." She drew him into the room, where a warm fire burned cheerfully, and made him sit down. "4Where did you go last night when you left here ? Tell me."' " To Harry Neal's ; a party of us were in- vited there to drink eggnog, and, of course, found something stronger afterward. Then we had a game or so of poker, and r--, the grand fnale is, that 1 have had a deuced head- ache alt day. Ah, my sweet saints how shocked you are, to by sure ! Now, don't lecture, or I shall be off like a flash." Without answering, she rang the bell and quietly looped back the heavy crimson cur- -tains. "What is that for ? Have you sent for John or old Nellie to.carry me up stairs, like other-bad boys sent to bed in disgrace, with- out even the cold comfort of supper 7" "Hush,- Hugh !hush.",. Turning to John, who opened the door and looked in, she said: ".Tell William to make some strong coffee as soon as possible. Mass' Hugh has a headache, and wants some before he leaves." "Thank you, my angel ! my unapproachable Peri! Ugh ! how cold it is. Pardon me, but I really must warm my feet."- lie threw them carelessly on the fender of the grate. "hall I get you a pair of slippers ?" "Could not afford the luxury; -positively have not the.time to indulge myself." - With a prolonged yawn he'laid his head back and closed his eyes. An expression of disgust was discernible in - his companion's countenance, but it passed like the shadow of a sumnmet cloud, Antd she sat down at the oppo- site side of, the fireplace, with her eyes bent upon the hearth and the long silky 'lashes sweeping her cheeks. A silence of some min- utes. ensued; finally Hugh rapped startlingly on -his boot with the ivory handle of his whip, and exclaimed: - * " A -Quaker-meeting is no part of my pro- gramme'l What the mischief are you thinking about ?-looking as solemn as an archbishop in canonidals!t" 'D. you really want to 'know what I am thinking of'?" - "Of course I do, if it is not something as supernal and faraoff -as the stars, which you have taken under your special protection and patronage." " 1 was thinking of a passage which I read yesterday, and wishing that it could be f'ramed- and hung up in'every dwellings Euerson says: 'Goethe said-well, "nobody should be rich but' those who understand it." - They should own who can administer, not they who hoard and conceal; not they, who, the greater proprietors they are, are only the greater beg- gars; but they whose work carves out work for more, opens-a path for all. For he is the rich tian in whom the people are rich, and he is the poor man in whom the people are poor; and how to give all access to the nas- terpieces of art -and nature is the problem' of civilization.' Weighed in this balance, how many of our millionaires, think you, would find Belshazzar's warning traced on their walls ?" " All of which, I suppose, I am to interpret into a polite circumlocutory way of telling me that I am a worthless spendthrift, squander- ing, awqy a fortune which I don't deserve, and a disgrace to my' fair cousinly Lady Bountiful? When do you contemplate mount- ing a pedestal, marble image that you are, folding those incomparable hands of yours, ard encouraging idolatry? I promise you I shall fall down and worship most irrepioacha- bly. But, seriously,: Irene,'if you do not ad- mire my style of living, why don't -you take me in hand, as is your-privilege, and make me a model of strait-laced propriety ?" "You might, with very great advantage to yourself, take a little common-sense in hand. Of course, Hugh, you are your own master, but it frequently pains me to see you throwing away your life and privileges so recklessly. You might do a vast amount of good with your money, if you felt disposed to" employ it benevolently and judiciously"- " Well, whose fault is it?' I offered to make you my banker, and let you dispense charities for both of us, and you snatched back your dainty fingers in haughty .refusal. If I play Prodigal to 'the end of' the ehap r, you are responsible for it." - ptr "Beggizlg your pardon, sir, I am no seape-- goat for'any of your shortcomings. Shoulder your -own - pecuadilloes, if you please. -But- here comes~your coffee. Put the waiter on MACARIA. 109 4 page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] .110 MACA the table, John, and tell And to take Mass' Hugh's buggy." "Do nothing of the kind ! but send some- body to open that everlasting gate, which would, not have disgraced ancient Thebes. Are you classical, John ? Be off, and ~see about it; l\must start in five minutes." "Hugh, be reasonable for once in your life yc are not in a proper condition to drive that horse. For my sake, at least, be persuad- ed s wait till-morning. Will you not remain, to ob_.Kme ?" " Oh, hang my condition ! I tell you I must and I will go, if all the stars, fall and judg- ment-day overtakes me on the- road. What splendid coffee you always have! The most fastidious of bashaws could not find it in his Moorish heart to complain." . He put on. his hat, buttoned his costly fur coat, and, flourishing his whip, came close toI his cousin. .. "Good-by,.Beauty. Ihate to leave you.;upon my word 1 do; but duty before pleasure,imyI heavenly-eyed monitress. I have'not had my Christmas present yet, and have it I will." " On one condition, Hugh: -that you drive cautiously and 'moderately, instead of thun- . dering down hills and over bridges like someI express-train behind time. Will you promise'?"l " To be sure I will ! everything in the world!; and ams ready to swear it, if'you are sceptical." . " Well then, good-by, Hugh, and take care of yourself, - She allowed him to press his hot lips to hers,s and, accompanying him to the door, saw him t jumpinto the frail open-topped buggy. Wild- . fire plunged and sprang oft in his usual style, 1 and, with a crack of the whip and wave of his hat, Hugh was fairly started. . Seven hours later li'ene sat. alone at the library table, absorbed in writing an article on f Laplace's Nebular Theory for the scientific journal to which she occasionally contributed L over the signature of " Sabwan.t' Severale hooks, with close "marginalias," were scatteredI around, and the " Mdcanique Cdleste " and 'a t volume of "Cosmos" lay open before her. The t servants had gone 't6 rest;. the house was i very spill, the silence, unbroken save by the g moan of the wind and the melancholy tapping t of the. poplar branches against the outside. f The sky w as black, gloomyas Malbolge; and, h instead of a hard, pattering rain, a. fine, cold t mist drizzled noiselessly down the panes. p Wrapped in her work, Irene wrote on rapidly w till the clock struck twelve. .She counted the h strokes, saw that there remained but one page w uncopied,- and concluded tos fiigish the MS. ti At last she affixed her norn de jlume, numbered c the paves, and folded the whgle (or transmis- 1l sion. T2he' fire' Sas 'still bright ; and, with'no .h inclination -to go to sleep,.she replaced the .il looks qn their respective shelves, Aurned up d the wick of the laip,.and sat down close to the p e LRIA. grate to warm her stiffened fingers. Gradually ler thoughts- wandered from the completed task to other themes of scarcely less interest. The week previous she had accompanied Hugh to 'an operatic concert .given :by the Parodi troupe, and had been astonished to find Russellseated on the, bench in front of her. He so rarely showed himself on such occasions, that his appearance elicited some .comment. They had met frequently since the evening at Mr. Mitchell's, but he pertinaciously avoided recognizing her; and, on this par- ticular nigh, though he came during aninter- lude'to speak to Grace Harris, who sat on the same row of seats with Irene, he-never once directed his eyes toward the latter. This studied neglect, she felt assured, was notthe result of the bitter animosity existing between her father and himself; and though it puzzled her for a while, she began finally to suspect the true nature-of his feelings, and, with wom- an's rarely-erring instincts, laid her finger on the real motive which prompted him. The report of his engagement to Grape had reached her some days before, and now it recurred to her mind like a haunting spectre. She did not believe for an instantthat he was attached to the pretty, joyous girl whom rumor gave him; but she was well aware that he was am- bitious of high social position, and feared that he might possibly, from selfish, ignoble reasons, seek an alliance with Judge Harris' only daughter, knowing-that the family was one of the wealthiest and most -aristocratic in the state. 8te-recollected, with unutterable scorn, the frequent sneers at his blind mother, in which *i ace, Charlie, and even Mrs. Harris had i uiged in the season of trial and adver- sity ; and, pondering all'that she had silently entdurea because of her sympathy with him aid his mother, a feeling of bitterness, hereto-_ fore unknown, rose in her heart. True, im- passanle barriers divided them; but, she could not endut-e the:thought of his wedding anoth-' er-it tortured her beyond al expression. With a . suffocating sensation she untastened he caineo-pin that held her robe de chanbre at, he throat,-and threw back the colar.:' Tak- ng out her conib, she shook down her.'hair, ;athered it up in her hands, anid-'tossed' it over he back of her chair, whence it fel to the floor, coiling there in glittercihg rings. Life ad seemed dreary enougli be'kore; but, with his apprehension added, it appeared insup- ortable, and she was conscious of a degree of wretchedness never dreamed of or 'realized eretofore. Not even a sigh escaped her ; she tas one of a few women who permit no -ex- ernal evidences of suffering, but look it se- urely in their 6wn proud .hearts, and in' si- ence and loneliness go down into the "ghoul- aunted,". darkened chanmbers to brood over*. t, as did the ,Portusguese monarch the moul- ering :remains of his mutdered 'wife. The 'ainful reverie might, perhaps, have lasted till 'the pallid dawn looked in with tearful eyes at the window, but Paragon, who was sleeping on the rug at, her feet, started up and growled. $lei raised her head and listened, but only the ticking. of the clock was audible, and the wailing Qf the wind. through the lqafless pop- lars. " Down, Paragon ! hush, sir I" She patted his head soothingly, and he sank back a few seconds in quiet, then sprang up with a loud bark. This time she heard an indistinct sound of steps in the hall, *and thought: "Nellie sees my light through the window, and is coming to coax me up stairs." Something stumbled near the threshold, .$ hand struck the knob as if'in hunting for it, the door opened softly, and, muffled. in his heavy cloak, holding his hat in one hand, Rus- sell Aubrey stood in the room. Neither spoke, but he looked at herwith such mournful ear- nestness,' such eager yet grieved compassion, that she read some terrible disaster in his eyes. The years of estrangement, all that had passed since their childhood, was forgotten; studied, conventionalities fell away at sight of him standing there, for the first time, in her home. She' crossed the room with a quick, uncertain step, and put out her hands toward him- vague, horrible apprehension blanching the beautiful lips, which asked shiveringly: "What is it, Russell"? what .is it'c" He took the. cold little hands tremblingly in his, and endeavored to draw her back to the hearth, but she repeated: "What has happened,?' Is it Father, or Hugh ?" " Your father is well,, I believe ; I passed him on the road yesterday, Sit down, Miss Huntingdon; you look pale and faint." Her fingers closed tightly over his; he saw an ashen hue settle on her face, and, in an un- naturally calm, low tone, she asked : Is Hugh dead'? Oh, my God ! why don't you speak, Russell ?" "iHe (lid not' suffer much; his death. was too sudden." Her face had such a stony look' that he would have passed',his arm around her, but could not disengage his hand; she seemed to cling o it as it' for strength. " c°1 you let me carry you to your room, or cal 'a servant ? You are not able to stand. She neither heeded nor heard him. " u;as it that horse ; or how was.it ?" " One of the bridges had been swept away by the freshet, and, in trying to cross, he miss- ed the ford. The horse must have beenfright- ened and unmanageable, the buggy was over- turned in the creel, and your cousin, stunned by the fall, drowned instantly ; life was just . extinct when I reached him." SSomething like a mnoan escaped her as she listened. " Was anything done ?" "We tried revery .means of resuscitation, but they were entirely ineffectual.". She. relaxed her clasp of his fingers and moved toward the door. "Where are you going, Miss Huntingdon? Indeed you must sit' dow." ",Russell, you have brought hirn home; where is he ?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked down'the hall and paused suddenly at sight of the still form resting on a gray travelling- blanket, with a lantern at his head-and an elderly man, a stranger, sitting near, keeping watch. Russell came to her side, and, draw- ing his arm around her, made heratlean upon him. He felt the long, long lingering shud- der which shook the elegant, queenly figure; then she slipped down beside the rigid sleeper and smoothed back from the fair brow the dripping curling auburn hair. " Hugh, my cousin ! my playmate ! Snatch- ed away in an hour from the life you loved so well. Ah! the curse of our house, has fallen upon you. It is but the beginning of the end. Only two of us are left, and we, too, shall soon be caught up to join you." She kissed the icy lips which a few hours before had pressed hersso.warurly, and, rising, walked up and down the long hall. Russell leaned against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest and his head bent low, waiting for her to speak again. But, calm and tear- less, she walked on and on,' ip profound si- lence, till he grew. restless at the strange sound of her hair trailing along the oil-cloth, and once more approached her. " Are you entirely 'alone ?" " Yes, except the servants. Oh, Russell! how am I to break this to my father?' He loves that boy better thanieverything else ; in- finitely better than he ever loved me. How shall I tell him that Hugh is dead--dead.?" "A messenger has already gone toinfbrm him of what has happened, and this distress- ing task will not be yours. Herberti Black- well ands I were riding together, on1our retUrn from T ,- when we reached the ford where the disaster occurred. Finding' that all our efforts to resuscitate were usless, he turned back, and went to your father's plantation to break the sad intelligence to him.'" is soothing,'tender' tone touched some chord deep in. her strangenature, and unshed tears gathered for the-first time in her eyes. " As you have no friend near enough to call upon at present, I will, if you desire it, wake the servants, remain, and. do all that is neces- sqry until morning."' " If you please, Russell; I shall thank y.un very much.". As her glance fell upon her consin'segleam-- ing face'her lip fluttered, And she turned away and sat down ott one of the sofas in the pador, dropping herface in her bands.e A. lttle while after-the lightfo a caigdle streamed in, MACARIA. I111 page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] 112 MACARIA. and Russell came with a cushion from the li- brary lounge and his warm cloak. He wrap- ped the latter carefully about the drooping form, and would have placed her ,head on the silken pillow, but she silently resisted without looking up, and he left her. It was a vigil which she iiever forgot ; the slow hours crush- ed her as they rolled, .the very atmosphere' seemed filled' with the curse which brooded inexorably over the ancient house, and when, at last, 'the eastern sky blanched, and the wan forehead of- the day lifted itself sadly up, it' seemed, indeed, as it'-. " The dim 'red mornI had died, her journey done, - And with dead lips smiled at the twilight plain, Haltlallen across the threshold of the sun, Never to rise again." Shaking off her covering, Irene passed into the greenhouse and broke clusters of jasmine and spicy geranium leaves, and, thus engaged, her glance tell upon the dashed camellia petals' which Hugh had ruined so recklessly the pre. vious dvenin They seenied fitting symbols, as they lay in withering heaps, of the exuber- ant life so suddenly cut "ort--the gay, tirob- bing heart so unexpectedly stilled. e * * Life struck sharp.on death, Makes awful lightning." ' And she.felt a keen pang at sight of his cam- bric handkerchief, which had been dropped unconsciously between two branching itich- si s. As she 'stooped and picked it up his name stared at her, 'and the soft folds gave out the powerful breath of' bergamot, of which he was particularly fond. She turned -away from the wealth of beauty that mocked her sorrow, and walk on to the library. The fire had died'out entirely, the curtains were drawn back to lit in the dtty, on the li- brary-table the startling !glare of white linen showed the outlines of the cold young steeper, and-Russell slowly paced the floor, his arms crossed, as was their habit, and his powerful form unweariedly erect. She stood by the ta- 'ble, halt-irresolute, then folded down the sheet and exposed the handsome, untroubled face., She studied it long and quietly, and with no burst of' emotion laid her flowers against his cheek and mouth, and scattered the gerani- ums over his pulseless heart.' "I begged him not to start yesterday, and he answered that he would go, if the stars felt and judgment-day overtook him. Sometimes, we are prophets unawares. His star has set --his day has risen! Have mercy on his soul!. oh, my god l" The voice was low -and.even, but wonder- fully sweet, and in the solemn morning-light 'her face showed itself gray and bloodless; no stain ot' color on the still lips, only the blue cord standing out 'between the brows,. sure signet of a deep distress which found no vent. -Russell felt2 a crushing weight lifted from his heart; he saw that she had "loved her cousin, cousidnly-no more;" and his face flushed when she looked across the table at hin, with grate- ful but indescribably melancholy -eyes, wlich had never been closed durig that night of horror. "I have come to relieve you, Russell, from your friendly' watch. - Few would have acted as you have done, and for all your generous kindness to poor Hugh I thank you most ear- nestly, as well for my father as nyselt. The. day may come, perhaps, when I shall be able to prove my gratitude and, the sincerity of my friendship, which has never wavered since we were children together. Until that slay, farewell, Russell; but believe that I rejoice to hear of your successes." She held out her hand, and, as he took it in his, which trembled violently, he felt, even then, that there 'was no quiver in the icy white fingers, and that hit name rippled over her lips as 'almly as that of the dead had done just before. She endured his long, searching gaze, like any, other Niobe, and he dropped the little pearly hand and quitted the room. She heard his quick step ring changes down the long hall and stony steps, and, when all was still again, she knelt beside the table, and crossing her arms over it, bowed her face upon- them. Now and then the servants looked in, but crept away awed, closing the door stealthi- ly ; and as the day advanced, and the news of- what had happened flew through the town, friends came to offer assistance and condolence. But none dared disturb or- address the kneel- ing figure, veiled by waving hair .and giving no more sign of life than the form before her. At ten o'clock Mr. Huntingdon returned, and, with his hat drawn over his e) es,-went straight to the library. le kissed the face of the dead passionately, ,and his sob and violent burst of -sorrow told his child of his arrival. She lifted her rigid face and extended her arms,. pleadingly. "Father I Father ! here, at least, you will forgive .me!" lie turned from her sternly, and answered, with bitter emphasis: "I will not 1 But for you, he would have been dillerent, and this would never have happened." "Father, I,have asked for love and pardon for the last time. Perhaps, when you stand over my dead body, you may remember that you hat a child who had a right to your af- fection: God knows, if it were possible, I would gladly lay'my weary he d down to rest,, here on Hugh's bier, and give him back to your arms. 'Life is not so sweet to me that ' I would not yield it up to-day without- a mur'- mur." - s .- . . .She bent down 'and kissed her-cousin, and, with a hard, bitter'sexpression min ler cotta- tenance, went up to her own room, locking out Paragon and old Nellie, who followed cautiously at her heels. ° "Forvthe drift of the Maker is dark, an Isis hid by the v'eil. Who knows the ways of the world, how God will bring them about." CHAPTER XXIV. "Where are you going, Irene ?" "Onlyto the Factory-row." " For what, I should like to know ?" "To see Bessie Davis, who has been very ill." "Fiddle-stick ! I want the carriage myself. I promised to send down to the hotel for Judge Peterson, who is coming to spend the night here." "Of course, Father, if you want Andrew I do not wish to interfere with your arrange- ments. I did not know that you intended to use the carriage. John, tell Andrew to drive the horses back to the stable-yard until called for, and have 'Erebus saddled at once. Un- pack that flat basket I left on the pantry-shelf, and put the things into one with a handle? that I can carry in my hand. The egg-basket will do very well; it has a cover." She went to her room, changed her dress for her riding-habit, and came down to the front door, where her father sat smoking.. , ,, "What are you going'to do with that bas- ket ? Erebus won't suffer you to Carry it." " Yes, sir; he will suffer just what I please to take. I have a bottle of wine,,some jelly, and some light bread for poor Mrs. Davis." "What sort of wine ?" "Not your high-priced sherry or port, but a pint bottle- of niadeira. Tighten that girth for me, Andrew, if you please; the saddle turned the last time I rode. "I 'II bet that you will let that basket fall before you get to the gate, and lose every drop.{ in it. It is all nonsense ! sheer nonsense I" She mode no reply,' but 'mounted the beau- tiful spirited animal, who arched-his neck and curveted at sight of the basket. Patting his mane'soothingly, she hung the basket securely on the pommel of the saddle and rode off. " He is wilder to-day than he was when I first bought him; he wil break her neck yet, I have n't a doubt," muttered lir. fiuntingdon, looking.after her. "No he won't,'-Master; she can tame him down any minute. Last week shd wanted to' ride, but he had, got out into the creek-pasture and I could n't catch him. I raced him for a - half-hour up and down, and could n't come 'near him; I'tried him wit corn and fodder, buthe ran like a deer. I give it up, sir, and ,toi Miss Irene he Was intane of his tantrums and I could do nothing with' him. -''She just' put on her laat and walked over to jhe pasture, and the minute he saw her coming heneighed two or three times, and, before I could get to her, she had her hand on his mane, patting him, and he was rubbing his head against her. Miss Irene can tame anything in this world, she has such a steady, conquering look in her eyes."n Such ,were Andrew's reassuring words, as, with his hat on the back of his head and both hands thrust into his deep pockets, he stood watching his young stress until a turn in the road obscured both horse and rider, then walk- ed back to the stable. It was a cold afternoon in November- And Autumn, laying here and there A fiery finger on the leaves," had kindled her forest conflagration. Golden maples and amber-hued cherries, crimson dog- woods and scarlet oaks shook out their flame- foliage and waved their glowing boughs,'all dashed and spedkled, flecked and rimmed with orange and blood , ghastly green, and tawny brown. The b0 tic spot- burned everywhere, save on the solemn sombre pines that lifted themselves defiantly far 'above the fevered re- gion of decay. .Royal clusters.of golden-rod were blackened and seared by the lips of an early frost, and pallid starry asters shivered and dropped their faded petals as the wind bowed their fragile heads. The smoky atmos- phere, which had hung all day in purple folds around the distant hills, took a golden haze as the sun sank rapidly; and to Irene's gaze riverr and woodland,' hill-side and valley, were brimmed with thatweird "light which never was on sea or land." Her almost "Brahmini- cal" love of nature had grown with her years, but a holier element mingled with her adora- tion now ; she looked beyond the material veil of beauty, and bowed reverently before the indwelling Spiritual:Presence. Only during these silent hours of communion afforded by her solitary rides was the shadow lifted from her heart, and at such times 'immemorial Cy- ,bele's fingers,.soft and warm, touched the still face, and the icy lines melted. Since Hugh's death, nearly a' year before, she had become a recluse-availing herself of her mourning- dress to decline all social engagements; and during these months a narrow path opened before her feet, she - became a member 9f the church which she had attended from infancy, and her hands closed firmly over her life-pork:' The baffling Sphinx that had so long vexed her sat no more at the cross-roads of her ex- istence ; she Ibund an.uEdipus in the far more. than ca-balistic words: "Thy path isnplain and straight, that light is given. Toward in fulthI and leave the rest to heaven." Sorrow and want hung out their signs . among the poor of W---, and here, silent, but methodically, she had become, not a'inn.. 'istering angel certainly, but a generous ene-~ factress, a noble, syrapathetic friend--a coun- sellor' whose strong good sense rendered her MACARIA: page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] 114 ACARA. MCARI. FI advice and guidance valuable indeed. By a system.,of rigid economy she was enabled to set apart a small portion of money, which'she gave judiciously, -superintending its invest- ment ; kind, hopeful words she scattered like sunshine over every threshold ; and here and there, where she detected smouldering aspira- tion or incipient appreciation of learning, she fanned the spark with some suitable volume from her own library, which, in more than one instance, became the germ, the spring of'" a joy for ever." Frequently herfather threw obstacles in her way, sneering all the while at her '- sanctimonious freaks." Sometimes she affected.not to notice the impediments, somse-. times .frankly acknowledged their magnitude, and climbed right over them, on to her work. Amopg the factory operatives she found the greatest need of ameliorating touches of every Kind. Improvident, illiterate,, in some cases almost brutalized,.she occasionally found her- self puzzled as to the proper. plan to pursue ; but her womanly heart,.like the hidden Jew- elled levers of a-watch, guided the womanly hands unerringly. This evening, as she approached the row of low whitewashed' houses, a crowd of children swarmed out, as usual, to .stare at her. She rode' up to a door-step, where a boy of some fourteen years sat sunning himself, with an open book on his knee and a pair of crutches beside him. At sight of her a bright smile broke over' his sickly face, and he tried to rise. 41Good-evening, Philip ; don't get up. How are you to-day ?" "«Better,'I thank you, ma'm; but very stiff yet" "«The stiffness will pass off gradually, I hopt. I see you have piot finished your book. 'yet; how de you like it'?" "' Oh ! I could bear to be a cripple always, if I had plenty like it to ream." "You need not be a eripple ; but there are plenty more, just as good and better, which you shall have in time. Do you think you could hold my horse for me a httle while? I can't find a suitable place to tie him. lie is gentle enough if you will only hold the reins." "4Certainy, ma'm; I shall be glad to hold him as long as-you like." , She dismounted, and, taking her'basket, placed the bridle in the boy's hand, saying en- couragingly, as Erebus put up his ears aird looked vicious: "6Don't be afraid 'of him. Speak to him quietly, if he gets restless, and ifyou can't keep hin in order, call me; I am going in next door." : ". He smiled assent,'wrapped the bridle round his wrist, and returned eagerly to is treasure, Sims' " Life of Nathaniel Greene," while Irene passed into the adjoining hopise. Soein sick-rooms are- inviting, from thie costly display of marble, rosewood, velvet, and silver; from tJe tasteful arrangement of books and flowers ; from the air of delicacy and affectionate con- sideration which pervades them. But those where -poverty stands grim and gaunt on the hearth are rarely enticing, and to this dreary class belonged the room where Bessie Davis had suffered for months, watching the sands of life run low and the shadow of death growing longer across the threshold day by day. The (lust and lint of the cotton-room had choked the springs of life, and on her hollow cheeks glowed the autograph of. consumption. She stretched out her wasted hand and said : " Ali, Miss Irene !. I heard your voice out- side, and it was pleasant to my ears as the sound of the bell when work-hours are over. I am always glad to see your face, but this evening [ was longing for you, hoping and praying that you would come. I am in trouble." "About what, Mrs. Davis? Nothing seri- ous, I hope ; tell me." "I don't know how serious it is going tobe. Johnnie is sick in the next room, take .yes- terday; and, about-noon to-day, Susan lead to kn'oek off work and come home. Hester is the only one left, and you-know she is but a baby to work. I don't like to complain o( my lot, 'God knows, but it seems hard if we are all to be taken down." " I hope they will not be sick long. What is the matter with Johnnie ?"' - "'Dear knows! I am sure I don't; he com- plains of the headache and has fever, and Susan here seems ailing the same way. She is as stupid as can be-sleeps-all the time. My children have had measles and whooping- cough and chicken-pox and scarlet-fever, and I can't imagine what they are trying to catch now. I hear that there is a deal of sickness showing itself in the Row." " Have you sent for the doctor ?" asked Irhne, walking around to the other side of the bed and examining Susan's pulse. ",Yes, I sent Il"ster ; but she said lie told her he was too busy to come." " Why did you not apply to some other physician ?". " Because Dr. Brandon has always attended me, and, as I sent for him first, I did n't know whether any other 'doctor would Like to come. You know some. of them have very curious notions about their dignity." " And sometifthes,. while they pause to dis-. cuss etiquette. humanity. suffers. Susan, .let ne see your tongue. Who else is sick in the Row, Mrs. Davis ?'t". "Three of Tom Brown's children, two of Dick' Spencer's, and Lucy hall, and Mary Moorhead. Miss Irene, will you 'be good enough to give me a drink of water? Hester.- has gone to tr~ to find some wood, and r can't reach the pitcher." .. -" I brought y ou some jelly ; would you like a little now, or shall I put it away in the closet ?". 114- MA.CA.RI:A.. " Thank you ; I will save it for my Johnnie, he is so fond of sweet things; and, poor child! he sees 'em so seldom now-a-days." " There is enough for you and Johnnie too. Eat this, while, I look after him.'and see whether he ought to have any this evening." She placed a saucer filled with the tmpt- ing amber-hueds delicacy on the little ,pine table beside the bed and went into the next room. The boy, who looked about seven or eight years old, lay on a pallet in one corner, restless and fretful, his cheeks burning and his large brown eyes sparkling with fever. "Johnnie, boy I what is the, matter ? TellI me what hurts you ?" - " My head aches so badly," and tears came to-the beautiful childish eyes. "It feels hot. Would you like to have it bahedin cold water ?"1 'If you please, ma'm. I have been calling Hettie, and she won't hear." " " Because she has gone out. Let me see if t I can't do'it just as well as lettie." . . { 'She hunted about the room for ascloth, but, finding nothing suitable, took her cambric 1 'handkerchief, and, after laying his forehead gently for'ten or fifteen minutes, laid the wet folds upon it, and asked, smilingly : s " Does n't that feel pleasant ?" "Ever so nice, ma'm-if I had some to a drink." o She put the dripping gourd to his parched h lips,. and, after shakmn up his pillow and h straightening the coverinjk of his pallet, she promised to see him again soon, and returned m to his mother. " How does;he appear to be, Miss Irene ? sl I had him moved out of this room because he skid my coughing hurt his head, and his con- a' tinual fretting worried me. I am so 'weak in now, God help me '" and she covered her eyes tI with one hand.e se " He has some fever,, Mrs. Davis, but not si more than Susan. I will ask Dr. Arnold 'to, tl[ come and see them this evening. This change tv in .the weather is very well calculated to make d( sickness. Are you entirely out 6f wood ?" fe " Very nearly, ma'm-a few sticks left'" th " When Hester comes keep her at home. I will send you some wood. And now, how are you?" '. " My cough is not quite so bad; the pectoral holds it a -little in -check; but I' had another ov hemorrhage last night, and I am growing fa weaker every day. Oh, 'Miss Irene1 what few will become of my poor little childrenewhen I th amgone? That is such an agonizing thought." in She sobbed as she spoke. ter "Do not let that grieve'ou now. I i 'you that your children shallube taken caroe f.y -will send a servant down to stay here to- isi night, and perhaps some of"-the women in the 'he Row wihll be willing' to comti in' occasionally 'Yc and help Hester till Susan gets able to cook.: of I left two loaves of bread in 'the closet, and tre will send more in the morning, which Hester can tout. I shall go by town and send Dr. Arnold out." l"s would rather have Dr. Brandon, if you please." . " Wh ?" "I have always heard that 'Dr. Arnold was so gruff and unfeelig that I ain afraid of him. I hate to be snapped up when I ask a qtes tion." I That is a great mistake, Mrs Davis. Peo- pie do him injustice. He has one of the kind, est, warmest hearts I ever knew; though some- times he is rather. abrupt tn his manner. If you prefer it,' however, Twill see your doctor. Good-by; I will come again to-morrow." As she took her bridle from Philip's hand. the boy looked 'up at her with an expression borderingon adoration. " Thankyou, Philip ; how did he behave ?" ' 'ot very well; but he is beautiful enough to makeup for his wildness." xThat is bad doctrine; beauty never should excuse bad .behavior. 'Is your mother at home ? "No, ma'm." "When she comes, ask her I say' please to tep in now and then and overlook things for Mrs. Davis; .Sasan is sick. Philip, if it is not king too much of you, Johnnie would like fr you to sit hbyhim till his little sister comes' Tome, and wet that cloth which I left on his leadl. Will you ? C"Indeed I will; I am very glad you told e. Certainly aIvWill.e" " I thought so. Don't talk to him; let hai heep if he will.t ood-by." She went first to a wood-yard on the river end eft an order for a core of wood to be sent immediately to No..13, 'Fctory-row; theft took lie street leading to Dr. Brandon's office.' 'A ervant sat on the step whistling-merrily, atd, answer toher question, 'lhe inormed'het' dat his master had just left to* , to be absent: o -days. She rode on for a few 'squares, oatbing her veil in the hope of shroudither,, eatu'es, and stopped once more in front of' e door where stood Dr. Arnold's buggy;" " Cyrus, is the doctor in his office ? ' " Yes,Miss rene, Hold my horse for me."' She' gathered the folds'of her riding.hibit e heb ar' an went up stai's.Leaning d in his chair, wits'his feet ou the" der of the grate, sat Dr. Arnold, watching' fa blue smoke of his nmerschaum earl lazily fadnt wreaths over his head;' and, as she'enr. 'ed,,a look of pleasart surprise Oame instant . into his 'cold,' clear-eyes. "Bless me'! Irene, Iam ghadto'see you.' I-' ren a i day Njc ~ thar shw*orf~ be'st on Now, ten, what% to'p~y? 'me except whe youre;. Hna Q4 ele ated herself to anotherspell of'reumtais, page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] 116 MAC or Paragon broke his leg, or small-pox broke out anywhere; or, worse than all, have the hawks taken to catching your pigeons "4 None of these catastrophes has. overtaken one; but I come, as usual, to ask a favor. If you please, I want you to go up to the Factory- r-pw this evening. Mrs. Davis, No. 13, has two children very sick, 1Iam. afraid. Don't like the appearance of their tongues" " aumph! what do you know about tongues, I should like to be informed ?" "How to use my own, sir, at least, when there is a necessity for it. They are what you medical savans call typhoid tongues; and from what I heard to day, 1 am afraid there will be a distressing amount of sickness among the operatives. Of course you will, o, sir ?" " How do you know thatso well? Perhaps I will, and perhaps I won't. Nobody- ever looks after me, or cares about the condition of my health; I don't see why I must adopt the whole human race. See here, my child! do not let me hear of you at the Row again soon; it is no place for you, my lily. Teti to one it is some low, miserable typhus fever showing itself, -and I will take care of your precious pets only on condition that you keep away, so that I shall not be haunted with the dread of having you, also, on my hands. If I lay eyes on. you at the Row, 1 swear I will write to Leonard to chain you up at home. Do you. hear ?" "I shall come every day, I promise you that." "(Oh! you are ambitiousof martyrdom I But typhus-fever is not the style, Queen. There is neither 'eclat nor glory in such a.death." A sad, smile ,curved her inouth as she an- swered slowly : Indeed you wrong me, poetor. I am' not ready to die; I am not fit for eternity; my work has but begun."nh "Why do you think so, my dear child? What sin have you ever committed ?" "Sins of omission, sir, efot up as heavily as those of commission." "Don't tread upon my Antinomianistic toes, if you please'! they are tender. Wherein have you failed -to do your duty ?" "God and my own soul only sit in assize, upon my derelictions." " Irene, I have watched you for years with huygr y.eager eyes; and of late I have fellow- edjou in your rounds among the poor. You are inaugurating a new system.; the fashion is, to organize societies, flame in print as officer, president, treasurer, as the ease may be, and pl.card the members and purposes of the A r- 'whant agthand doeth Ind it not so' One of you own sex, the greatest, Atrongest, no.- blest of yur learned women-singers, pithily tells you '"hero's too seuch abstract willing, purposing, ',' 1n this poor'world. We talk by aggregates, ARIA.. And think by systems..,..If we pray at all,. We pray no lobger for our daily bread, But next centenary's harvests. If we give, Our cup of water is not tendered till We lay down pipes and found a company With branches. A woman can not do the thing she ought, Which means whatever perfect thing she can, In life, in art, In science, but she fears To let.tho perfect action take her part And rest there; she most prove what she can do, Before she does it-prate of woman's rights, of woman's mission, woman's function, till 'bhp men (who are prating, too, on their side) cry-- 'A woman's function plainly is--to talk. Pool souls, they are very reasonably vexed ! They can not hear each. other speak.-" " I tell you, Queen, I have watched tbgse associations all my life': I am getting old now, and I am as completely nauseated with their cant and phariseeism as Macaulay was with that of the seventeenth century Puritans. Self- glorification has a deal of influence over our modern Dorcases." "I think, sir, that you are unjust in some instances; your cynical lenses distort the facts. Judicionsly-conducted cliaritable so- cieties greatly facilitate matters, by system- atizing the ork and inducing punctuality. I grant that the evils you spetk of are much' to. be deprecated; and, to complete your own lengthy quotation:' '-I'd whisper-Soft, my sister! not a word! By speaking we prove only we can speak: Which ho, the man here, never doubted. what le doubts is, whether we can do the thing With decent grace we 've not yet done at all: Now do it 1" " Doctor, I .wish you were more. of an op- timist." He took one of her hands, 'spread out the' ivory fingers on his broad palm, and said, in a lower tone : "owMy haldean priestess, who says that I ani not as orthodox -on optimism as Leibnitz him- self? Don't you know that I am a sort of latter-day troglodyte, very rarely. airing my' pet creeds for the benefit of the public? That was a.wise law of Soton's which declared i every man infamous who, in seditious or civil dissensions of the state, remained neuter, and refused to side with either party ;' but I do not regard it as expedient or incumbent upon me to advertise my individual status on all ethical schisms.' What is it to' the public whether i endorse ' Candide ' or Leibnitz's ' Theodi- t' " One thing I certainly do know, with great regret, that, your. seeming austerity, your, roughness of.manner, renders you very un- popular ; whereas you should be universally beloved." "Really I have -I become a bugbear in my "Not that exactly, sir ; but I irish, if it were possible, that you would not mask f)our really kind, generous, sympathizing heart by such repellent, abrupt conduct in sick-rooms, where pople expect gentleness and consideration on the part of a physician. I know you are often MACARIA. 117 annoyed by senseles and ridiculous questions; who will question ? Not I, surely and yet I but I wish, for your own sake, that you could know that girl will take hers -safely to the be a little more patient with poor,, weak terminus of time, pure, with no smut or smell human nature." ' . of gunpowder.,A pearl before swine ! But I Child, I am not gregarious ; never was. I -swear, untrampled to the end." touch my hat to the world, and it is welcome He shook the ashes from his pipe,'put it to think just what 'it chooses of m. away behind the clock,, and went down tolhis " so,ir ; far from touching your hat, you buggy. Before breakfast the' following morn- stand. aloof, scowling at your. race, smiling' ing, while Irene was in the poultry-yard'feed- grimly at the strugghng, drowning men and ing her chickens and pigeons, pheasants and women around you, as if, we were not , all one , p'eafo ls, she received a note from' Dr. Arnold great family, designed y God to assist and containing these few scrawling words cheer each other. 'E\ ery man-" "' " Pardon me, Queen ; but I am not 9ne'of "if you do not feel quite ready l'or the' da those deluded, selftcomplacent human beings of judgment, avoid the Row as, you would the who actually lay the 'flattering unction' to plagues of Egypt. 'I found 'no less than six their souls that tey were sent into this world developed ,cases of rank typhus. for some particular purpose-some special mis- "Yours, sion. . I want you distinctly to understand, " ' "HnAn AN *OLD." child, that I don't consider myself appointedRN . to any work but .that of attending to my -own She put the note in her pocket, and, while affairs and taking care of myself." the pigeons fluttered and perched 'on her Then yon admit yourself a marred, imper- shoulders and arms, cooing and pecking at her fect block, rejected by the Divine Architect as fingers, she stood musing-calculating the unworthy of a' place in -the grand social tem chances of contagion and death if'she persist- ple. God clothed you with human- affections ed. - Raising her eyes to the calm blue sky'the and sympathies that, in accordance with the' perplexed look passed from her countenatie, fundamental law of social existence, you might and, fully decided regarding her course, she extend a helping hand to your fellow-creat- went in to breakfast. Mr. Iluntingdon was cres." ' going ;to a neighboring. county with, Judke He moved restlessly, and his gray shaggy Peterson, to transact some business connected brows met in a heavy frown. with Hugh's estate, and, 'as the buggy came to "I believe, Irene, I am entirely innocent of the door, he asked carelessly: any agrarian or socialistic tendency.' " What did'Cyrus want ?" "And so, I trust, am 1. But, sir, because I " He came to bring me a note from the abhor Brook-F armn I will not take refuge in doctor, concerning, some sick people whom'I the cave of Trophonius." ' asked him to seq."' He looked up at her with one of-his steely, " Oh -!, John, put my overcoat in the probing glances, then the b:Ows unbent, and buggy. Come, Judge, I am ready." he drew er hand caressingly across his cheek. As hemade no inquiry about the sick she "Well, child, we won't quarrel over my volunteered no explanation, and he bade her bearishness. If you will keep that hard, frozen good-by with manifest cold indifference. "She look away from your lips, and smile now and could not' avoid congratulating herself that, then as you. used to do in your -childhood since he must take this journey soon, he had when I held you on my knee, I will promise to selected the present occasion to be absent,' try and unearth myself,,.to seal up my gnome for she was.weIl aware that he would violently habitation, and buy Ihe a tub which I can op ose hetnWishes in the matter of the Row. drag after 'me into the sunlight. Is it a Wen Dr. Arnold met her, late in the fter' bargain 2" noon of the same day,,at little Johnnie's side, SThat is problematical, Doctor. But it is his surprise and chagrin found vent, firatin a getting late, and I wish, if you please, yo' series of oaths, then, scowling at her like some would go at once to th aRow." a thunder-cloud with the electricity expended, "Stop!1 if any good is accomplished among he said:' those semi-savages up'yonder, who is to have "Do you consider me a stark idiot, or a the' credit ?' Tell -me that." shallow qua~ck ?" "God shall have the thanks;, you all the "Neither, sir, I'assure ou." credit. as the worthy instrument, and I' as " Then, if I know anything about my busi- much of the gratification as I can steal from ness, I wrote you the truth this morning and you. Are you satisfied with your wages, my you treat my advice with: cool contempt. 'ou honored Shylocky? 'Good-nigt." vex me beyond all endurance! Po'yu want "Humph I it is strange what a hold that to throw yourself into thejaws of Death ?" queer, motherless child took upon mys heart in ' "No,sir; 'tar from' is; btt /I had' fiursed her babyhood,'and tightens as.she growsolder.. the risk beforeI was aware'tliat. tlere 'was ' That souls are dangerous things to carry straight any. Besides, I really do not think 1 shall take Through all the spilt saltpetre of the world ' glt the fevdr. ' 'I believe a good resolution i.'a page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] MACARIA. powerful preventive] and that, you know, I ave." " The deuce you have! you obstinate, un- governable piece of marble! : Look here, Irene, I shall go straight to your father and let: 'him know the facts. It is my duty, and I mean to do it." "I don't think you will, for he 'started to' 3.-5-- county this morning. And now, Doe- or, you may just as well quit scolding me, for I have made up my mind to nurse Johnnie, Ospme what will." " Yes! I will warrant' you have!1 and you, mAy as well go make up your shroud, too-for: you will want it, I am thinking." "Well, my life, at least, is my own, even if it should prove-the price." " Oh ! is it, indeed ? What has become of that pretty doctrine you preached to me yesterday ? I thought you belonged to the ?hole human fraternity ? Your life yours, indeed I" "You forget, Doctor; 'greater love bath no mian than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.'" She slipped her hand into his and looked up, smiling and calm, into his harsh, swarthy face. "My child, you made a mistake; "your life belongs to me, for I saved it in your infancy. I .cradled you in myarms, lest Death should snatchyou, I have a, better right to you than anybody else in this world. I don't want to see you die ; I wish to go first." " I know what I owe you, Doctor; but I am not going to die, and you have scolded me enough for one thne. Do make peace." "Remember, I warned you, and you would not heed." From that hour she kept faithful vigil in No. 18--passing continually from one bedside to another. Susan's attack proved comparative- ly light, and she was soon pronounced conva- )escent; but little Johnnie was desperately ill, and for several nights Irene sat at his pillow, fearing that. every hour would be his last. While his delirium was at its height Hester, was taken violently, and on the morning when Irene felt that her labor was not in vain and that the boy would get well, his little sister, 'Whom she had nursed quite' as -assiduously, grew rapidly worse, and died at noon. As is fequentl observed in. such - diseases, this increased in virulence with every' new case. It spread with astoraishing celerity through the Row, baffling the efforts of the best physi- cians in ,W ; and finally, the day after Hester's death, as Irene sat trying to comfort the poor mother, a neighbor came in, exclaim- iig: "iOh, Miss irene! Philip Martin is down.' 'too. Hie caught the fever from his mother, and his father says won't you please come over" Se went promptly, though so wearied-she could scarcely stand, and took a .seat by the -bEd where tossed the poor boy in whom she had taken such an interest since the accident which crushed his, leg. in the machinery and rendered him a temporary cripple. " He has been talking about you constantly, Miss Irend, and calling- for you. Philip, my son, here is Miss Irene." He smiled 'and turned, but- there was no recognition in the hot eyes, and after an in- stant he muttered on incoherently. - "You must go home, Miss 'Huntingdon; you are worn-out.. His father can watch him till his ,mother gets stronger," said Dr. Bran- don, who was fully acquainted with her unre- mitting attendance at the next house. " No, I must stay with Philip; perhaps he will know me when he wakes." A hope doomed to disappointment, for he raved for four days and nights, calling fran- tically -for the serene, sad woman w~io 'sat at his pillow, bending over him and laying her cold hand on his scorched brow. On the fifth day, being free from fever and utterly pros- trated, he seemed sinking rapidly ; but she kept her fingers - on his pulse, and, without waiting for the doctor's advice, administered powerful .stimulants. So passed two hours of painful anxiety.; then Philip opened his eyes languidly, and looked at her. "Philip, do you know me'?" " Yes-Miss :Irene." She sank back as if some strong supporting hand had suddenly been withdrawn from her; and, observing that she looked ghastly, Mr. Martin hastily brought her a glass of water. Just then Dr. Brandon entered, and examined his patient with evident surprise. " What have you done to him, Miss Hun- tingdon'?" "t Since daylight I have been giving him ammonia and brandy; his pulse was so feeble and thread I thought he needed it, and I was- afraid to wait for you.'i " Right I and you saved his life" by it. I could'not get here any earlier, and if you had delayed it until I came it would probably, have been, too late. You may call him your patient after this." She waited no longer, but staggered to the door ; and Andrew, seeing how faint she was, came to meet her and led her to the carriage. The ten days of watching has told upon her ; and when she reached home and Nellie brought her wrapper and unlaced her shoes, she fell back on her lounge in a heavy, death-like sleep. Mr. Huntingdon had been expected two days before, but failed to arrive at the time designated; and, having her fears fully aroused, Nellie despatched a' messenger for Dr. Arnold. CHAPTER XXV. " Do you see any change, Hiram ?" " None for the better-." Mr. Huntingdon dropped his head on his hand again, and Dr. Arnold resumed his slow walk up and down the carpet. The blue damask curtains had been looped back from, ,the western window, and the broad band of yellow belting in the sky threw'a mellow light over the bed where lay the unconscious heiress of the grand old Hill.' Fever rouged the polish- ed cheeks usually pure asalabaster, and touched the parted lips with deeper scarlet, lending a brilliant and almost. unearthly beauty to' the sculptured features. Her hairpartially escap- ing from confinement, straggled in crumpled rings,"and folds across the pillow,, a mass of golden netting; and the sparkling eyes wan- 'dered from one object to another as if in anxious search. The disease had assumed a different type, and, instead ofraving paroxysms, her illness was characterized by a silent, wake- ful unconsciousness, while opiates produced only the effect of increasing her restlessness. A week had passed thus--during which time she had recognized no one, and though nu- merous lady friends came to offer assistance, all were refused permission to see her. Mr.- Huntingdon was utterly ignorant of the duties of a nurse ; and though he hanted the room like an unlifting shadow, Dr. Arnold and Nel lie took entire charge of the patient. The former was unremitting in his care, sitting be. side the pillow.through the long winter nights, and snatching a few hours sleep during the day. Watching her now,'as he walked to and fro, he noticed that her eyes followed, him earnestly, and he paused at the bedside and leaned over her. " Irene, what do you want ? Does my walking annoy you ?" No answer., " Won't you. shut your eyes, my darling, and try to go to sleep ?" The deep brilliant eyes' only looked into his with mocking intentness. He put his fingers on the lids and pressed them gently, down, but she struggled, and turned away her face. Her bands crept constantly along the snowy quilt as if seeking for something, and taking them both he folded them in his and - pressed them to his lips, ,while tears, which he did not attempt to restrain, fell over them.. " You don't think she is any worse, do you ?" asked the father, huskily. . "I don't know anything, except that she can't lay this way much longer." His harsh voicetfaltered and his. stern mouth trembled. He laid the bands back, went to the window, and Aood there till the room grew dusky and the lamp was brought' in. As. Neflie. closed the door after her the doctor came to the hearth and said,'shai'ply: " I wobld not be in your plac6 for John Ja- cob Astor's fortune." " What do you mean by that'/", " I meain that, if you have any conscience left, you must suffer the pains of purgatory for the manner in which you have persecuted that child," " In all that I have ever done I have looked only to her good-to her ultimate happines. I know that she-" Sflush, Leonard I'hush ! You know 'very well that you have been down on your knees before the Golden Calf ever since that 'girl opened her' eyes in this plagued world of trouble ! You are no more fit to be a father than I am to be a saint ! You have tyrannized and fretted her. poor innocent sonl nearly 'out of her ever since she was big enough to crawl. Why the d-l- could' not you let the .child have a little peace ? Itold you how it would end ; but oh, no'! you could see nothing but the "gilt face of your bellowijgg' god! You tormented her so about Hugh that anybody else would have hated the poor fellow.' Mind you, she never opened her lips to me with reference to that matter in her life ; she would have been -gibbeted first. But I am not blind entirely ; I knew what was goieg on ; I knew that the proud, sensitive bird was' hunted and could find no spot to rest upon. ' There are ninety-nine chances to one that she has come teher rest at -last. You will feel pleas- antly when you see her in her shroud." His hard face worked painfully, and tears glided down the wrinkled cheek and hid themselves in his gray beard. Mr. Hunting- don was much agitated, but an angry flush crossed his brow as he answered, hastily: " I am the best judge of my family matters. You are unjust and severe. Of course, I love my child better than anybody else." "Heaven preserve her from such love' as you have lavished on her ! She is very dear to me. I understand her character ; you either can not or will not. .She is the only thing in this world that I do really love. I have fondled her from the time when-she was a week old, and it hurts me to see her suffer as she has.done ever since you posted her off among strangers in New York. It will' go hard with me to lay her dwn, in all her love- liness, in the grave. My pet, my violekeyed darling I" He shaded his face and swallowed a sob, and for some moments neither spoke. After a. while the doctor buttoned up his coat and'took his hat. "I am going down to my office to get a dif- ferent prescription.' I will be back soon." "Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Clark'said that they would sit up to-night. Hiram, you must be' worn-out, losing so much sleep." "Tell Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Clark to go to Egypt ! Po you suppose I want two such gossip-hawks perched over my dove? I am going to sit up myself. .Give Irene a spoonfi1 of that mixture in. the small vial at seven o'clock." C ontrary to hisphlegmatic habit, the doctor had. taken counsel of his fears until he tras 1' MALARIA. 119 118 page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 . . MACARIA. completely unnerved, and he went home more than usually surly and snappish. As he en- tered his o0ele.Russell advanced to meet him from the window,' whence, for nearly an hour, he had been watching for his arrival.. "Good'evening, Doctor." "What do you want ?" " How is Miss Huntingdon ?" "What is Miss Huntingdon to you ?" ".She was one of my mother's best'friends, though only a little girl at the time." "1And you love her for your-mother's sake, I suppose ? Truly filial."', "For that matter, she is beautiful enough.to be very easily loved for her own sake, judging from the number of her devoted admirers. .But.I-certainly am very grateful for her kind- ness to my mother, years ago." " And well you may be, Aubrey ! She paid dearly for her friendly interest in your family." "Ip what respect, sir ?" "In more respects than I choose to recapit- ulate. Did you ever know where she got. the, two hundred dollars, which she .gave your mother ?" "I presume she took it from her own pujse." "She borrowed it from me, and pail me. back gradually in the money that her father gave her, from time to time, while she. was at boarding-school. , Cyrus ! you stupid ! bring me some coffee." . " How.is she to-night? Rumors are so un- reliable, that I came-to you to find out the truth." : "She is going to die, I am afraid." A sudden pallor overspread Russell's face, buthe sat erect and motionless, and, fastening his keen eyes upon him, the doctor added: " She's about to be transplanted to a better world,'if there is such a, place. She is too good and pure for this cursed, pestiferous earth.", "Is the case so utterly hopeless ? . I can not, I will not, believe it !" came indistinctly from the young man's Illoodless lips. " I tell you I know better !- She stands on a hair stretched across her 'grave. If I don't succeed to-night .in making her sleep (which I have been trying to accomplyh for two days), she can't possible live. And what is that whole confounded crew of factory savages in "comparison.with her precious life ?"s "Is it true that her illness is attributable to nursing those people ?" " Yes. D-l take the Row ! I wish the river would swallow it up." .. . "Is she conscious ?" " Heaven only knows; I don't. She lies .with her eyes wide open, looking at every- thing as if she were searching for something which she had lost, but never speaks, and un- derstandsanothing, except to swallow the med- icine when'I put the spoon to'her lips.'' ."*if I could only see her I" exclajilied Rus- sell, and an expression of such intense agony settled on his features, usually so inflexible, that his companion was startled and astonish- ed. The doctor regarded him a moment with perplexity and compassion mingled in his own 'face ; then light broke upon him, and, rising, he laid his hand heavily on Russell's shoulder. " Of course, Aubrey, you don't visit at that house ?" "Of course not." " Do you meet her often ?" "I have not. seen her- for nearly a year. Not since'the pight in which Hugh Seymour was drowned." He rose, and turned away to screen his countenance from the scrutiny to which, it was subjected, for the painful shock baffled all' his efforts at-self-control and he felt that his fae would betray him. "Where are you going,' Aubrey.?" "Back to my office." ".Is there any message which you would like for me to deliver to, her, if she should recover her consciousness ? You may trust me, young man." " Thank you; I have no message to send. I merely called to ask after her. I trust she will yet recover. Good-night." He walked on rapidly till -he' reached the door of his office. The gas was burning brightly over his desk, and red-tape and legal-cap beck- oned him in ; but fathomless blue eyes, calm as mid-ocean, looked up at him, and, without entering, he turned, and w.dnt through the cold and darkness to the cemetery, to his mother's tomb. She had been his comfort in boyish sorrows, and habit was strong; he went to her grave for it still. When Russell left hin Dr. Arnold took from his pocket the only solace he had ever' known-his meerschaum. While he smoked, and mixed some powders in a marble mortar, memory industriously ran back, raking amid the ashes of theoby-gone for here a word and there a look, to eke out the Ariadne thread which his imagination was spinning. The possibility of an attachment -between Irene and the blind widow's son had never occurred to him before ; but that Russell's unmistak-' able emotion could be referable simply to grat- itude to his 'mother's benefactress was an. explanation of which he was disposed to be very sceptical. If this surmise should prove correct, what were Irene's feelings toward the popular young politician? -' Mere he was ab- solutely without data; he could recall nothing to assist him; but, comprehending the bitter animosity existing betwee'tfthe lawyer and her father, he sighed involuntarily, knowing the hopelessness of any such attachment 'on either or both sides. Determined to satisfy himself of thle .truth at the earliestopportuni- ty he carefully weighed out the powder and' rode back to the i1. He-could perceive no change, winless it were a heightening of the carmine on cheeks and lips and 'an increased - I twitching of the fingers, which hunted so per- tinaciously about the bedclothes. ."That everlasting picking, picking at every- thing, is such an awful bad §ign," said poor Nellie, who.was crying bitterly at the feot of the bed--and she covered her, face with her apron to shut out the sight. " You 'pick* yourself off to bed, Nellie ! I don't want you snubbing and groaning around, day and night."g "I am afraid to leave her a minute. I am afraid when my poor baby shuts her eyes she never will open 'em again till she opens 'em in heaven."5 "Oh, go along to sleep ! you eternal old stupid.- I will wake you up, I tell you, if she gets worse." He mixed one of the powders and' stooped down. " Irene-Irene, take this for me, won't you, dear ?" She gave no intimation of having heard him till he placed the wineglass to her mouthand raised her head tenderly; then she swallowed the contents mechanically. At the expiration of an hour he repeated the dose, and. at ten o'clock, while he sat watching her intently, he saw the eyelids begin to droop, the long silky lashes quivered and touched her cheeks. When he listened to her breathing, and knew that at last she slept, his gray head sank on his chest and he murmured, inaudibly, " thank God I" Patient as a woman, he kept 'his place at her side, fearing to move lest he should wake her ; the dreary hours of night wore away; morn- ing came, gloriously bright, and still she slept. The flush had faded, leaving her wan as death, 'and the little hands were now at rest. She looked like the figures which all have seen on cenotaphs, and anxiously and often the doctor felt the slow pulse, that seemed weary of its mission. He kept the room quiet and main- tained his faithful watch, refusing to leave her for a moment. Twelve o'clock rolled round, and it appeared, indeed,.as if Nellie's prognos- tication would prove true, the sleeper was so motionless. At three o'clock the doctor count- ed the pulse, and, reassured, threw his head back against the velvet lining of the chair and shut his aching eyes.. Before five minutes had elapsed he heard a faint sweet voice say, "Paragon." Springing to his feet, he saw her put out her hand topat the head of her favorite, who could not be kept out of the room, and howled .sa intolerably when they chained him that they were forced to set him free. Now he stood with his paws on the pil- low and his face close, to hers, whining with delight. Tears of joy almost blinded the doctor as he pushed Paragon aside and said, eagerly: "Irene, one dog is'-as good -as another You know Paragon ; do you know me, Queen ?" " Certainly-I know you, Doctor." " God bless you, Beauty I You have n't, known me for a week." I.- s r MACARIA. ii "I am so thirsty-please give me some wa- ter." He lifted her head and she drank eagerly, till he checked-her. " There-=we have n't all turned hydropath- ists since you were taken sick. NellieI I say, Nellie ! you Witch of Endor 'I bring some wine-whey here. Irene, how do you feel, child ?" " Very. tired and. feeble, sir. My head is confused. 'Where is father ?" " Here I am, my daughter." He bent down with trembling lips and kissed her, for the first time since the day of their estrangement, nearly three years before. She put her arms feebly around his neck, and as he held her to his heart she felt a teardrop on her.,forehead. " Father,,have you forgiven me ?" He either could not or would not answer, but kissed her again warmly ; and, as he dis- engaged her arms and left the room, she felt assured that, at last, she had been forgiven. She took the whey silently, and, after some moments, said : " Doctor, have you ,been sitting by me' a long time ?" "I rather think I have !-losing my sleep for nearly ten days you unconscionable young heathen." " Have I been so ill as to require that? I have a dim recollection of going on a long journey, and of'your being by tny side all the way " "Well, I hope you travelled to your entire satisfaction Sand found what you wanted-for you were feeling about as if hunting for something the whole .time. Oh ! I am -so thankful that you know me once more. Child, you have cost me a deal of sorrow. Now be quiet, and go to sleep again; at least don't talk- to Nellie or Paragon. I shall take a nap on the sofa in the library."' - She regained her strength very slowly, and many days, elapsed before she was able to leave - her room. One bright sunny morning she sat before the open window, looking down on the.lawn where the pigeons flashed in and out of the hedges, and ntw and then glanc- ing at the bouquet of choice hothouse flowers in the vase beside her. In her lap lay a letter just received from Harvey Young-a letter full of fond remembrance, grave counsel, and gentle encouragement-and, the unbent lines about her mouth showed that her mind was troubled. The doctor came in and drew up a chair. "I should like .to know who gave you leave to ride yesterday ?" "Father thought that I was well enough, and the carriage was close add warm. .I hope, sir, that I shalIl not be on your hands mauch longer." " What did I tell you ? Next time don't be ' so hard-headed when you are advised by older page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] MAhLMiACARIA. I23 and wiser persons. I trust you are quite sat asfied with the result of your eleemosynary performances at the Row." { " Par from it, Doctor. I am fully acclimat ed; now, and have nothing to fear in future I am ;very sorry, sir, that I 'caused you all so( much trouble and anxiety ; I did not believe that I should take the fever. If Philip had not bean so ill I should hav s come out safely; but, I suppose, my uneasiness about him un- nerved me in some way-for, when I saw that he *buld get well, all my strength left me in am instant. How is he, sir "Oh ! the young dog is as well as ever ; limps around now without his crutches. Comes to my office every day to ask after his blessed Lady. Bountiful." Leaning forward carelessly, but so as to command a full view of her face, be added " You stirred up quite an excitement in town, and introduced me generally to society. People, who never inflicted themselves on me before, thought it was incumbent on them to hang around my door to nake inquiries con- cerning my fair patient. One night 1 found even that statue of bronze and steel, Russell Aubrey, waiting at my office to find out wheth- er you really intended translation." A change certainly passed swiftly over her countenance ; but it Was inexplicable, in- describable ; an anomalous lightening of the eye and darkening of the brow. Before he could analyze it , her features resumed their wonted serenity, and he found her voice un- fluttered. " I was not aware that I had so many friends; it is a pleasant discovery, and almost compensates for the painof illness. Take care, Doctor!, You are tilting my flowers out of their vase." " Confound the flowers, Queeni They are always in the way. It is a great pity there is such Theban-brother affection between your father and Aubrey. He has any amount of fine feeling hid away under that dark, Jesuit- ical, non-committal face of his. He has not forgotten your interest in his mother, and wben I told him that I thought you had de- termined to take your departure from this world lie seemed really hurt about it. I al- ways liked the boy, but I think he is a heretic in olitics." Lookig steadily at him as he spoke, she smiled coldly, and answered: "It is very apparent that this fierceness of' party spirit, this bitter political animosity, is driving the ship of State on the rock of Ruin. The foamy lips of the breakers are'just ahead, but you*men will not open your eyes to the danger.' 'Be tter get some of you wise women to *pilo& us, I dare say 1" sneered her compa,nion, provoked at -her unsatisfactory manner and alflexible featurese.-- " It is not our calling, Doctor; but I promise - you, if the experiment were tried, that you y would find no Palinurus among us. We-ha-ve no desire to thrust ourselves into the forum, - like Roman women 'storming at the Oppian Law and crushing Cato;' still less to imitate 3Hortensia and confronting- august Triumvirs in the market-place, harangue against the tax,. I however unjust. Practically, women should have as little to do with politics as men with darning stockings or making puff-paste; but we should be unworthy of the high social status ,which ' our chivalry accords us were we indifferent to the conduct of public affairs. ' Man for the-field, andw oman for the hearth : Man for the sword, and for the needle she: . Man with the head, and woman with the heart; Man to command, and woman to obey.' Such is the judicious arrangement of nature- a wise and happy one, indubitably. We bow- before it, and have no wish to trench on your prerogatives; but we do protest against your sleeping on your posts, or lulling yourselves with dreams of selfish -ambition when Scylla and Charybdis grin destruction on either side." ".Phew-Queen ! who told you all that? Has Aubrey indoctrinated you in his 'fire-eat-. ing,' schismatic principles ? What platform do you propose to mount ?" "None, sir, but that of the constitution-r-- ignoring both whig and democratic additions, which make it top-heavy.. I don't like latter- day political earpentering. I want to see Nes- tors in the councils of my country, not nerve- less imbeciles, or worthless, desperate political gamesters." .., "You rabid little Jacobin ! Don't you think- that, Portia-like, you might completely transmogrify yourself, and get into Conres and Cabinet long enough to write ' Nene, mene' on their walls ?" " They would have no Daniel there, even if I should, which is no business of mine. Dock tor, I claim to be no politician; a thousand years will scarcely produce another pe Stfel. I am simply a true lover of my country- anxious in view of its stormy, troubled future." "Aubrey has not proselyted you, then, after all ?" She had unlocked her writing-desk, and, without seeming to hear his last words, handed him a letter. " Here is a letter from Uncle Eric, which I received yesterday. It contains a message for you about some medical books and journals." ' . ,- He muttered something indistinctly, put the' letter in his pocket, and took her hand. " Irene--what is the matter, dear, child ? Your pulse is entirely too quick." " That as nothing :new, Doctor. Father insists that I shall drink port-wine, and it does not suit me--keeps my head aching continu- ally." " Try porter instead." She shook her head wearily.. " I need nothing, sir, but.to be let alone." He smoothed back' her hair and said, hastily : "You will never get what you need. Oh, child!' why won't you trust me ?" " Why-Doctor ! I do." " Hush ! don't tell me that ! I know better. You steel that white face of yours, and-"lock your confidence from the old man who loves you above all other, things."' She drew down his hand from her head and leaned her cold cheek upon it. " You misunderstand me, sir; I repose the most perfect confidence in you. If I were in, trouble, and wanted help or a favor of any ,kind, I would apply to you sooner than to any 'other human being-for you have always been more patient with my whims than even my own father-and I should 'be worse than an ingrate if I had not the most complete trust in you. My dear, kind friend, what have I done to fret you?" , He did not reply, but searched her counte- nance sorrowfully. " doctor, tell me one thing. You nursed me constantly while I. was unconscious, and I want to know whether I said anything during my delirium that surprised Or annoyed you." "No; the trouble was that you sealed your lips hermetically. Are you afraid now that: you divulged some secret which I may betray?" "I am not. afraid of your betraying any- thing-never -bad such 'a thought. When do you think that-I may take a horseback ride with impunity? I. am so tired of the house." "Not for a week, -at least. You must be prudent, Irene, for you are not strong yet, by a great deal." . " I wanted to talk to you, this morning, about something very near my heart ; but you are going." "I can wait, my child. What is it ?" - ." To-morrow will do as well.' I want you to aid me in getting a bill passed by the legis- lature appropriating a school-fund for this county. Perhaps you can obtain Mr. Aubrey's influence with the members of the lower house." - -'- " Perhaps I 'll go to, the North Pole to cool a glass of amontillado for your majesty ! I'll be hanged, if I have anything to do with it ! Why the deuce can't you ask Mr. Aubrey yourself?" - " " Because, in the first place, you know very well that I never see him, and I could not ask 'him, even if I should meet him; and, beside, I do not wish to be known at all in, the affair. It is not a woman's business to put forward legislative bills;" "Indeedl Then why are you: meddling with other people's business ?" . "Our legislators seeni, to have forgotten one gand and good maxim of Lycurgus: ' Chil- dren are the property of the state, to whom alone their edngatioi 'should obe intrusted.' They have forgotten that our poor require educating, and I simply desire .some oC their constituents to call their attention to the.over- sight. Doctor,' I know you will do it." " I will first see myself' floundering like Pharaoh ! I 'll rake out nobody's chestnuts!- Not even yours, child! Put down that, win- dow; the air is too chilly. You are as cold as an iceberg and as blue as a gentian." The doctor had scarcely taken his departure when Nellie's- turbaned heal showed itself at the door. "That factory-boy, Philip, is down stairs ; be brought back a book, and wants to see you. He seems in trouble ; but you don't feel like being bothered to-day, do you?" "Did be ask to see me 2 '" Not exactly; but showed very plainly he wanted to see you." "Let him come up." As he entered she rose and held out her hand. " Good-morning, Philip; I am.glad you are well enough to be out again." He looked at her reverently, and, as 'he no- ticed the change her.illness had wrought, his, lips quivered and his eyes filled. "O h,Miss Irene.! I am.so-glad you are bet- ter. I prayed for you all the time while you were so very ill, ." Thank you. Sit down and tell.me about the sick." " They are all better, I. believe, ma'm, ex- cept Mrs. Davis. She was wishing yesterday that she could see you again." " I shall go there in a day or two. You are walking pretty well without your crutches. Have you resumed'your work ?" " I shall begin again to-morrow.- "It need not interfere with your -studies. Tbe nights are very long nowi and ,yoti can accomplish a great .deal if you feel disposed to doso." He did not answer immediately, and, observe in" the cloud on his countenance, she added: " Philip, what is the -matter? You. look troubled; .can I do anything for you.?" A deep flush mantled his sallow cheek,, and, drooping his head as if in humiliation, he said, passionately: " ." Oh, Miss Irene ! You are the only friend I have.'' I am so mortified I can hardly look anybody in the face.,. Father is drinking again worse than ever; and is so violent that mother won't stay at.home.; she has gone;across the river for a few days. 'I have done all I could but I can't influence him," " Where is he now ?" 'a The. police put him in the :guard-house last night for creating a disturbance. I sup- pose, when the Mayor holds nour,,h will be fined and turned out... Miss Isrene, Ifeet like 'jumping intQ the river and drowning tgself. It is 'so horrible to be ashamed of my owns father I" MAkCARFA. , page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 MACARIA. He dropped his face in his hands, andsh saw that he trembled violently.h. "'You must struggle against such feeling Ph'ip; though it is certainly very mortifyin to know that your father has been arreste If you conduct yourself properly, people wi respect you all the more because of your mil fortune." "No, Miss Irenei they are always holding it up to me. Hard as Intry to do right, the are continually sneering at me, and sometime it makes me almost desperate." " That is unjust and ungenerous. No one who has any iefinement or goodness of heart will be guilty of such behavior. I do. no know positively that I can assistyou, but think it possible .I can obtain a situation fo your father as- carpenter on a plantation it the country, if he will promise to abstain front drinking. 'I have heard that he was a ver3 good niechanic, and in the country he would not meet with such constant temptation. Do you suppose that he will be willing to leav town ?" " Oh, yes, ma'm ! I think so; he is generally very repentant when he gets sober. If you please, Miss Irene, I should be, so glad if you would talk, to him, and persuade him to take the pledge before he starts. -I believe he would join the Temperance society if you ask- ed him, to do it., Oh I then I should have some heart to work." You and your mother must'try to influence him, and in a few days I will talk to hih. In the meantime I will see- about the situation, which is a very desirable one. I am very sorry, Philip, that this trouble has occurred again; I know that it ts very painful, but you must en- deavor to be patient and hopeful, 'and to bear up bravely. Brighter days will soon come, I trust." He took his cap from the carpet, rose, and looked at her with swimming eyes. "Oh, Miss Irene ! I wish I could'tell you all I feel. I thank you more than I can ever ex- press, and so does mother." "iYou have finished your book, I see ; don't you want another ? Nellie will' show fou.the library, and on the lower book-shelf, on the right,- and 'side of the door, you will find a large volume in leather bining-' Plutai h, Tae it with you and read it carefully. Good- by.. I shall come down to the Row to-morrow or next day. As she heard his halting step descend their stairs she leaned back wearily in her chair, and, closing her eyes; these words crept almost inaudibly over her pale lips: 4. But go to!- thy love 'allatersef its own beok.Atcids kis Setonthlsighin lip, sall make theeglad - - A poor man serve by thee, shall make thee rich; A sick man hlped by thee; shall make thee strong." Ae CHAPTER XXVI. s, " Well, Irene, what is your decision about g the party at Mrs. Churchhill's to-night'?" d. " I will go with you, Father, if it is a matter ill of so much interest to you; though,'-as I told . you yesterday, 1 should prefer declining the invitation as far as I am concerned." - g "It is full time for you to go into society y again. You have moped at home long enough." s ""Moped' is scarcely the right word, Fa- "It matters little what you call it, the fact t, is the same. You have shut yourself in till t, you have grown. to look like a totally different I woman. Indeed, Irene, I won't permit it any r longer ; you must 'come out into the world n once more. I am sick of your black looks; n. let me see you in colors to-night." y " Will not pure white content you, Father?" "No ; I am tired of' it ; wear something bright." -- e Mr. Huntingdon smoked his after-breakfast cigar, half-reclined on the upper step, and Irene walked up and down the wide colon- nade, enjoying the cool, dewy, fragrant June day, whose sun was rapidly mounting-in heav- en. The air was of that peculiar, stillness found only in southern summer mornings, but . now and then' its holy calm was rippled by the contented ringing whistle of a partridge far down among the grassy orchard~depths, and by the peaceful chime of doves cooin soft and low, one to another, in the thickest saiadors of the dripping grove. True summer sounds- sure concomitants of June. Frail, foam-like cloud-navies in line-of-battle, as if piloted by dubious, treacherous winds, sailed lazily across the sea of intense blue, staring down covet- ously at a ripening field of flashing wheat which bowed and wavered in a long billowy sweep and swell as the mild June breeze stole over it; and on A neighboring hill-side, where sickles had been busy a few days before, the royal yellow shocks stood thick and tall in crowded ranks, like golden gods of Plenty. , Ahi rareJune day, impearled and purpled, freshly glowing from the robing hands of Dei- ty, serenely regal on her southern throne as Sheba's brown queen. ShIrene, sit here on'the step, where I can see you without twisting my head off of my shoulders. Now, then--what is the matter with you ?" ' " Nothing unusual, Father." "Don't evade me. Why can't you look and act like other girls,of your age ?" "Probably because I feel differently. But to what do you allude ? In what respect have I displeased you ?. " Oh I in a 'thousand. You never would lokat things in their poer light. Why did you treat William Bainbridge so coldly yester- day evening? You know very well that .he came here expressly to see you." . IU MACARIA. " And) for that reason. sir, I felt it my duty to receive the visit coolly." "You disappointed all my planefor you once ; but let me tell you, if you are not a lownright simpleton, you will accept the offer William Bainbridge came here to make. You are aware of the warm friendship which has always existed between the governor and my- self, and his son is considered the finest match in the state' If you live a thousand years you will never have a better offer, or another as good ; and I do hope, my daughter, that you will not be insane enough to reject him." Father, why are you so anxious to get rid of your ony child ?" "I am not.; but you must marry some time, and I know very well such an opportunity as this will not recur." " Don't youthink, sir, that you and I could live always happily here without planting a stranger at our fireside'? Father, let us un- derstand each other fully. I speak deliberate- ly, and solemnly-I shall never marry.". Mr. Iuntingdon started u' from his indo- lent posture and surveyed his daughter keenly. lHer spotless muslin morning-dress swept down the marble steps, its wide sleeves falling away from the rounded dazzling arms, and a black cord and tassel girding the waist. The geranium-leaves fastened at her throat were unstirred as the silver-dusted lilies sleeping, lotoslike, on some lonely tarn ; and the dewy Lamarque roses twined in her coiled hair glttering and kindled into faint opaline flushes as the sunshine quivered into their creamy hearts. One hand held a steel ring, to which half-a-dozen keys were attached--the other toyed unconsciously with the heavy tassel, and the hushed face, with its deep holy eyes, was lifted to meet her father's. " Nonsense, Irene ! I have heard fifty wom- en say that same thing, and have danced at their weddings six months later." "I do not doubt it. But, Father, no one will ever dance at mine." "And pray why have n't you as good a right to marry and be happy as Qther women '"' .tohe abstract right, and the will to use it, a heeiffeent, Father; and, as regards happi- areduiful'hom 1to 1el ness, I love my own beautiful"hm, oowl to desire to change it for any other. Let me be quiet here-I ask no more." "b uet, Irene, I cant be expected to live always, even were my society sufficient for you, which is not true." "Death yields allegiance to no decree of mani. I mayfind Hugh in another world before you -are'called to quit this." er father shuddered, and smoked silently for several seconds; then the'crash of whess ~nteshelled avenue startled both. *" Here comes Bainbridge now. I promnised higi that you would play a game of billiards wihhim this morning. For heaven's sake, Irene ! be reasonable for once in your life;g let 1 5 me hear nomore such stuff as you have been talking, but treat the man civilly, and giye him w'Iat he will ask." , The handsome suitor came up the steps rather dubiously, as if fearful of his welcome; and the heiress rose composedly and, received him with graceful, polished, imperturbable re- serve. A few months before, in compliance. with her father's earnest request, sie had ac- companied him to the capital of the state, and, during this brief visit met aid completely fas- cinated Mr. Bainbridge, whose attentions were susceptible of but one interpretation. He was a year her senior-a chivalric, agreeable, gay young man, who had grown up without select- ing a profession, knowing that his ample fort-: une would more than suffice for his mainte- nance. He was the only son of the governor; his character was unimpeachable, his nature magnanimous, and many of his impulses were truly (noble-but his intellect was far inferior to hers. He could no more comprehend her than .sonie long-inurned Assyrian scroll, for which the cipher-key is wanting; and in the midst of his devotion she was conscious of no feeling save that of utter indifference, some: times waxing into inipatience at his frequent visits. She had studiously avoided encourag- ing' his attentions, but he either could riot or would not interpret her cold reticence. The morning was spent over the billiard- table, and at last, foiled by her skilful-guiding. of the fragmentary conversation, Mr. Bain- bridge having been refused the honor of es- corting her to the party, took his leave, ex- pressing the hope 'that in a few hours he ,should see her again..., "Well ?" saidWvr. Huntingdon, seating him- self at the luncheon'-table. " Well, Father; we played till I was heartily tired." ",But the result of the visit, Irene ?' " The result was that I beat him 'three games out of five. John, where isthe claret? You have forgotten it-; here are-the keys." " Pshaw ! I mean, did Bainbridge come to the point." i took most of the points from him." " Confound your quibbling ! Did you, ac- cept him ?" "I am happy to be able to tell you, sir, that, he did not afford me an opportuity." " Then I will be sworn it was your' fault-. not his.!" A short silence ensued; Irene sat,,seemingly abstracted, dipping her slender, hand in a rub "-colored Bohemian finger-bowl. Present lv John returned ; she took the bottle from him, and,. filling her father's glass, said, earnestly : "FEather, I have a favor to ask ato yotur hands ; are you in a mood for concession, ?"y "' That depends-,' as Guy Daril s~ys. What is it ? Do you. want a new collar for Paragon, or a bran new pigeon-box twice the page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 MALARIA: size of the old one ? Something unreasonable I will warrant. You never want what yo ought to have. Speak out, my bleached ge tile Esther !" - . "I do ,want another pigeon-box badly, bu that is not to be asked for today. Father will you give me that large beautiful vacant lot, with the old willow-tree, on the corner o Pine street and Huntingdon avenue, opposit the court-house ?" "Upon my word I I must say you are ver modest in your request. What the deue d you want with it?"' "1 know that j am asking a good deal, sir but I ivatit itas a site for an orphan-asylum Will You give it to me ?" "No ! 1 '11 be hanged if I do ! Are yot geing entirely deranged ? What business have you itith asylums, I should like to know Put all of that -ridiculous stuff out of your head Here is something for which I sent to Europe Erie selected it in Paris, and it arrived yes terday. Wear it to-night." He drew a velvet ease from his pocket an laid it before her. . Touehing the spring, th lid 'flew open, and on the blue'satin.lining lay the blazing coils of a magnificent diamond necklace and bracelets. " How, beautiful! how splendidly beautiful ! She bent over the flashing mass in silent admiration for some time, examining the deli cate setting, theft looked up at her father. " What did they cost ?" " Why do you want to know that ?" ° "'I am pardonably curious on the subject." " Wll, then, I was silly -enough to give seven thousand dollars for them." "Aiqd what.is the value of that lot I asked for ?" " Five thousand dollars." "Father, these diamonds are the finest I ever saw. They are superbly beautiful; a queen might be proud of them, ani I thank you most earnestly for sn-h a gorgeous present; but, if you will not be offended, I will be can- did with you--I would a thousand times rather have the'lot than the jewels." The expression of blank astonishment with which these words were received would have been ludiero.us but for the ominous thickening of.his brows.' * "Father, do not -feel hurt with me, or at- tribute' my conduct to any want of gratitude fbr your indulgent kindness. If' I love the siles of happy children more than the radi- ance of those costly gems,'anI 'would rather wear in my heat the contented faces of well- cared-fororphansthan od my neck these glitter- ing diamonds, may I not at least utter my preference without. oflfeding you? When I -.think of then better use to which this money might -be -a pplied, the incalculable .good it would effect, I shrink from hoarding it upi on thy person to dazzle the eyes of my associates, to incite some -to imitate 'the lavish' expeadi- e, ture, and to awaken in others envious discon. u tent at their inability to cover themselves with. n- similar splendor. The result of such an exam-. pie on our society would be like dropping a it pebble ipto 'some crystal lakelet sleeping in r, evening sunshine; the wavering ring would it widen till the entire glassy surface was shiver- )f ed into spinning circles and dashed on the e rocky shore beyond. Father, forgive me if I have said anything ,disagreeable to you. I y shall be grieved indeed if, on the occasion of' o your too generous indulgence, any disserision arise between us. Tell. me that you are not angry with me." i. She laid her fingers on his arm, but he shook -off the touch, and, scowling sullenly, i snatched the velvet case from her hand and e stamped out of the room--slamrning the door ? so violently that the glasses on the table rang' . out a tinkling -chime and the red wine in the . bottle danced a saraband. - He went to town, and she met him no more till she was attired for the party. Standing- I before the mirror in her own room she arrang- e ed the flowers in her hair, and, when the leaves were disposed to suit her fastidious taste, she' I took up apearl set which he had given her years before, intending to wear ii. But just then, raising her eyes, she saw her father's t image reflected in the glass. Without turning - she put up her arms, and laying her head back on his shoulder said, eagerly:. " Mrydear, dear Father, do let us be recon- ciled." Clouds and moodiness melted from his hand. some features as-he bent over her an instant, kissing her fondly ; then his hands passed, I swiftly ovmi her neck, an icy shower fell upon it, and she was clothed with light. " My beautiful child, wear your diamonds as a seal of peace. I can't let you have the Pine street lot-I want it for a different'pur- pose; but I will give you three acies on the edge of town, near the depot,-for your asylum whim. It is a better location every way for your project." "Tuauik you, Father. Oh!I thank you, more than ivords can express." She turned her lips to one of the hands still lingering'on her shoulder. "Irene, look at yourself. Diana of Ephesus I what 'a blazeof glory I" S"'Father, it would not require much stretch of imagination to believe that, by sonie deseenn 'dental netempsychosis, I had become an ex- humed inember of the sacred gnomides, 'tdrn rutjilessly from my sisterhood in Cerro do Frio or the cold dreary caverns of the Agathyih" "The metamorphosis is not sufficiently con- plete without your bracelets. Put them ' - and' come down'; the carriage is ready. Where is your bouquet-holder? Give it to me; I will fasten the ildowers inwhile you draw on ye 'gloves"- 'Two days before, the marriage of Charles- 1 MACARIA. Harris and Maria' Henderson had been cele- brated with considerable-pomp, andthe party to night was given in honor of the event by' Mrs. Churchhill, a widowed sister of' Jidge Harris. She had spent several years in Paris, superintending the education of a daughter, whom she had recently brought home toreside near her uncle and dazzle all W --with her accomplishments. . At ten o'clock there stood beneath the gas- lights in 'her elegant parlor a human fleshy antithesis, upon which all eyes were riveted- Salome Churchhill-a dark imperious beauty, of the Cleopatra type; with very full crimson lips, passionate or pouting as occasion demnand- ed; brilliant black eyes that, like August days, burned, dewless and unclouded, a steady blaze; thick shining black hair elaborately curled, and a rich tropical complexion, clear and glowing as the warm blood that pulsed through her rounded graceful form. She wore a fleecy fabric, topaz-colored,' with black lace trim- mings; yellow roses gemmed her hair, and topaz and ruby ornaments clasped her throat and arms. An Eastern queen she looked, exacting universal homage, and full of fiery jealousy whenever her eyes'fell upon one who .stood just opposite. A statuesque face, pure and calm as any ever cut from Pentelie quarry, and cold as its dews-the- delicately-carved features borrowing no color from the glare around her, the polished shoulders and perfect arms gleaming frigidly in the'rainbow-light of her diamonds, and the bronze hair caught up by a pearl comb, with here and there a cluster of clemaiis- bells drooping toward her neck. Irene's dress was an airy blue tulle, flounced to' the waist, and without trimming save the. violet and clematis clusters. Never had her rare beauty been more resplendent-more dazzlingly chilly; it seemed the glitter of an arctic iceberg lit by some low midnight sun, and, turn whither she would, fascinated groups followed her steps. Salome's reputation as a brilliant belle had become extended since Irene's long seclusion, yet to-night, on the re- appearance of the latter, it-was apparent to even the most obtuse that she resumed her sway--the matchless cynosura of, that, social system. Fully conscious of the intense ad. miration- she excited she moved slowly from room to room, smiling.once or twice when she .met her father's proud look of fond triumph fxed upon her. - Leaning against the window to rest, while Charles Harris went' in search of a glass of water, she heard her name pronounced by tome one on the gallery.' "They say Irene Hluntingdon is positively going to marry Bainbridge. Splendid match both sides. Won't she shine at the governor's .mansion ? I wontder-if siie really grieved much for Seymour? h ow perfectly lovely she is ; and Hluntingdon is so .proud of her. By the way, Neal, have you heard the Iast gossip ? ' i " About whom ? I have been away a month, -you mnut remember, and am -behind the times. Do tell me." " Well, the very latest report is that, after. all, Aubrey never fancied Grace Haris, as the quidnunes asserted-never addressed her, or anybody else-but is now sure enoughabout to bear off belle Salonie, the now prize, eight in the face of twenty rivals. I should relly like to hear of samethng whicl that man could not do, if he set himself -to work ii earnest. I wonder whether it ever recurs to him that be once stood behind Jacob. Watson's counter ?" "But Aubrey is not here to-night. Does not affect parties, I believe ?" -" Rarely shows himself; but you mistake; he came in not twenty minutes ago, and you should have seen what -Csaw-the rare-ripe red deepen on S'alome's cheeks when he spoke to her." Irene moved away from the window 'and soon after was about to accompany Vharlie-to the hall, when Mr. Bamnbridge came up and claimed her hand for the cotilion forming in the next room. Asrthey took their-places on the floor she saw that. Salome and Russell would be vis-a-vis. With an effort she raised her eyes -to thQse of the mat whoin she had seer last at Hugh's bier; he drooped his head very slightly, she inclined hers;, then the'band smote their instruments, violin and piano, and the crash of music filled the house. Irene loved mechanically through the airy mazes of the dance, giving apparent attention to the low-toned, half-whispered observations of her devoted partner, but straining her ear to catch the mellow voice which uttered such graceful fascinating nothings to Salome. Sev- eral times in the course of the coillon Ru sells hand clasped hers, but even then- hi avoided looking at her, and seemed engrossed in con- versation with his gay partner. " Once Irene looked up steadily, and as she noted the expression with which he regarded hiscorn- pamion she wondered no longer at the rumor She had heard, and' acknowledged to herself that they were, indeed, a handsome coule. Dr. Arnold, whom Mrs. Churchhill had coaxed into "showing himselff" had curiouslywatched this. meeting,'and, observing IRusel's marked attentions, puzzled over the question: Does he really care for that firetly, or is he otdy trying to make Irene jealous"?". lie looked long and earnestly at both, then-sigheeheavi- ly., What did that haughty 'blue-robed woman know of jealousy ' How absurd such a sug' gestion seemed when she turned her smiling passionless face full upon him. The dance ended; Irene found herself seated on a sofa 't the window of the deserted library, and IRe- sell and Salome walked slowly up and dowR the veranda in front of it. Mr. Bainbridge had maumuvred for this opportunity, and, Wa* ed beside Irene, he eagerly 'and eloquenty pleaded in cause,s assuring hr of a dvoi page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 which should know no diminution, and empha- sizing- the fact that he had possessed himself of her, father's sanction. She made no attempt to interrupt him, but sat erect and motionless, with one hand par- tiallyshielding.her face and the other pressed hard against her heart, where a dull continual pain was gnawing. Every few minutes Russell passed the wiu4ow, his noble head bent down to the beautiful companion on his arm. Irene could see the outline 'of his features distinctly, and her soul sickened as she watched him and reasoned concerning the future. . He would, probably marry somebodyy, and why not. Sa- lopne ? She could not expect him to remain single always, and he could never be more than' a stranger to her. After his marriage, what a blank her life would be ; to love him still would be sinful. She moved her fingers slightly and looked fixedly at the handsome man beside her, entreatingher to give him the privilege of making her life happy. For an mstant she wavered. The world held nothing for her but dreariness at best ; she was wegry ' of alienation and contention; why not accede to: her father's wishes, ,and thus repair the 'grievous disappointment of other days?' Wil- liam Bainbridge loved her, and perhaps if she. were his wife the sanctity of her Aws might strengthen her in tearing another image from her heart. She took her future in the palm of her, hand and pondered. At this moment the couple on the veranda paused in frontof the window, to allow the promenading cr6wd to pass, and Russell looked in, with a brilliant smile on his countenance,' It seemed to mock her with a," Marry him. if you dare !" The two passed on into the parlors, and closing her eyes a moment, as if shutting out some hideous vision, Irene' briefly, but firmly and irrevoca- bly, declined the flattering offer; and rising,' left him with his disappointment. She looked about for Dr. Arnold, but he had disappeared ; her father was deep in a game of euch re ; and as she crossed-the.hall she was surprised to see . Philip leaning' against the door-facing and pecrin curiously into the parlors. " Philip, what are you. dong.here ?" " Oh,,Miss Irene l I have been hunting for you ever so long. Mrs. Davis is dying, and Susan sent me afteryou. I went to your house two hours ago, and they said you were here. I ran back and told mother you could not come. But Mrs. Davis worried so, they sent me here. She says she won't die in peace unless she sees you.- She wrung her hands, and asked me if you would not have time enough to go to parties when she was in her grave? Will you come, ma'm ?" " Of course.,. Philip, find Andrew and the carriage, and I will meet jou at, the side door in five minutes." She went .to the .dressing-room, ,asked for pencil and paper, and wrote a few lines, which she directed the servant to hand immediately 4' MACARIA. to her father-found her shawl, and stole down to the side door. -'She saw the dim outline of a form sitting on the step, in the shadow of clus- tering vines, and asked : "Is that you, Philip ? I am ready." The figure rose, cameforward into the light, hat in hand, and both started visibly. " Pardon me, Mr. Aubrey. I mistook you in the darkness for another.' Here Philip ran up the steps. " Miss Irene, Andrew says he can't get to the side gate for the carriages. He is at the front entrance." " Can I assist you, Miss Huntingdon ?" " Thank you; no." "May I ask if you are ill ?" " 'ot in the least-but I am suddenly called away." She passed him, and accompanied Philip to, the carriage. - A few minutes, rapid driving brought them to the Row, and, directing An- drew to return and wait for her father, Irene entered the low small chamber where a human soul was pluming itself for its final flight home. The dying woman knew her even then in the pierce throes of dissolution, and the sunken eyes beamed as she bent over the pillow. " God bless you! .I knew you would come. My children-what will become of 'them? Will you take care of them? Tell me quick." " Put your mind at rest, Mrs. Da% is. I will see that your children- are well cared for in every respect." " Promise me !" gasped the poor sufferer, clutching the jewelled arm. " I do promise you most solemnly that I will watch over them 'constantly. They shall never want so long as I live. Will you not believe me, and calm yourself ?" A ghastly smile trembled over the distorted features, and she bowed her head in assent. Irene poured some cordial into a glass and put it to .her lips, but she refused the draught, and, joining her emaciated hands, muttered half- inaudibly : " Pray for me once more. Oh ! pray for me, my best friend." Kneeling on the bare floor in the midzt of a sobbing group, Irene prayed long and earnest- ly ; and gradually, as her .sweet. voice rolled through the room, a peaceful look settled on the dying mother's face. At last the petition ended and silence reigned, broken only by the smothered sobs of Susan 'and little Johnnie, who clung to Irene's hand and buried his face in her dress as she still knelt at the bedside. "Mrs. Davis, don't you feel that you will soon be at rest with God ?" -" Yes ; I am going home happy-happy." She closed her eyesand whispered: " Sing my-hymn-once-more.". Making a great effort to crush her own feelings, .Irene sang the simple but touching words of " Home Again," and-thdugh her voice faltered now and then, she sang it thirough- 4 page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] MACARIA' bitter heart -.hungers for one of your. gentle words, ,Qebe-of your sweet, priceless smiles. Ienet look at me! Giveit to me!" He sat down on the step at her feet and raised. hiS 'dark' magnetic face, glowing with the ove which',had so long burned undimmed, his lofty full forehead 'wearing a strange flush., She d ared not meet his eye, and. drooped her head on her palms, shrinking from the scorch ng furnace of trial, 'whose red jaws yawned to receive her. He waited a moment, and his low, mellow voice' rose to a stormy key. . i Irene, you are kind and merciful to the poor ;wretches in the Row, Povertf-nay, crime, does not frighten away yourcompassion for them,; .why are you hard and cruelly. haughty poly to me ?" "4You do not, need my sympathy,' Mr. An- brey, and congratulations on' your great success would not come gracefully from my lips. .Most unfortunate obstacles long since rendered all intercours between usimpossible, still my feeling ":for you' has undergone inO change. I am, I assure you, still;your friend.". It eost her a powerful effort to utter these words and her voice took a metallic tone utterly, foreign to it. Her heart w1'ithed and bled and moaned in the ripe of her steely purpose but she endured aIl calmly-relaxing not one jot of her bitter resolution., "My friend! !Mockery ! God defend me from such henceforth. Irene, Ilooked at you to-night in all your wonderful, incomparable loveliness as you hung upon the -arm of your acknowledged lover, and the possibility of your becoming that man's wife absolutely maddened me. I felt that I could never endure that horrible reality, and I resolved to know the truth, Other lips deceive, but yours never can. Tell me, have you promised your hand to Banbridge'? Will you ever, give it to hhn?" "Such questions, Mr. Aubrey, you have no right, to propound." "Right!1 does my worshipping love give me 'no right t relieve myself from torture, if pos- sible Y~' Oh ! relentless,, beautiful idol, that you are"! .have cheated myself with a heavenly dream-have hugged to my soul the hope that, after all, I was more to you than you designed to show-that far down in your proud heart yepu, too, cherished ,memories, of other days. Irene, you loved te once-nay, don't-deny it'! You, need not !blush for the early folly which, it seems, you have interred, so deeply; and though you scorn to meet me even as an equal, I, know, I feel, that I am worthy of your love- t Icomprehend your strange nature as no one elseever will-that, had such a privilege been accorded me, I could have kindled, your heart, and. made you su..- p-emely happys'tCrsed barriers have divided us always; fate deniied me' my right. I have suffered 'many things; iut does it not, argue, 130 at least, in favor of my love, that it has sur vived all the trialsto which your father r'shate has subjected me? To-night I could forgive him all! all! if I knew that he had not so successfully hardened, closed your heart against me., My soul is full of bitterness which would move you,, if one trait of your girlish nature remained. But you are not my, Irene ! The world's queen, t dazzling idol of the ball- room, is not my blue-eyed, angelic Irene of old! I will intrude upow you no longer at least not to despise me for my folly; I will crush it; and if you deign to remember me at all in future, think of a man who laughs at his own idiotcy and strives to forget that he ever believed there lived one woman who would be true to her own heart, even though the heavens aHe rose partially, but her hand fell quickly upon his shoulder and the bowed face lifted itself, stainless as starry jasmines bathed in equatorial dews. "Mr. Aubrey, you are too severe upon yourself and very unjust to me. The circum- stances which conspired tg alienate us were far beyond my control; I regret thenas sin- cerely as you possibly can, but as unavailingly. If I have individually occasioned you sorrow or disappointment, God knows it was no fault of mine. We stand on the opposite shores of a dark, bridgeles gulf; but before we turn away to-be henceforth strangers, I stretch out* my hand to yo rin' friendly farewell-deeply regretting thepain which I may have inno- cently caused you and asking your forgiveness. Mr. Aubrey, rem aher me as, I was, not as Io am. Good-by, my. friend. May God bless- you in coming years and crown your life with the happiness you merit1 is the earnest, prayer of my heart." ho The rare blue cord on her brow told how fiercely the ava-ood surged under its icy bands, ; and the blanched .lip matched her cheek in colorlessness; save these tokens of anguish, no other was visible. d. Russell drew down the hand from his shoulder andafolded it in both his own. p "'Irene,-, are4 we. toy walk different patths henceforth-utter strangers? Is such your will ?" Such is the necessity which must be .as apparent to you as to me. Do not doubt my friendship, Mr. Aubrey; but doubt the pro- priety of my parading. it before the world." - He, bent his cheek down on her cold hand, then raised it to his lips once, twice--laid it back on her lap, and, taking his hat, walked away, toward town.-,- Two r blithe .crickets chirped merrily some- where in the brick pavement round,the door, a solitary mocking-bird, perched on the limb of' a neighboring china-tree, warbled his sweet varied -'notes; as ,if in answer,; the mellow ,diapason of the Falls rpse'agothingly over all, and the bflue-robed woman sat still as the stone steps of the Factory, watching the vanislhin dyingsparkles of a crystal draughtof j which Fate had rudely dished at her fe sternly denying the parched eager lips. For some time she remained just as Russe had left her, then the white arms and dr eyes 'were raised to the midnight sky. "dMy io! my God!, strengthen mein m desolation' She put back the folds of hair that, damj with dew, cling toher gleamig temples, an recrossing the wide road or street, entered the chamber of death. Lowispoken word Crept'to and fro between Mrs.Martin and tw -niddle-aged, sad-faced women of the Row who sat around the candle, on the little pin( table, clipping and scalloping a jacoet shroud As Irene approached the scissors rested an "Where i Philip, Mrs. Martin? I shal ask him to walk home with me, and not wait for the carriage." I expect he is asleep, Miss Irene-but, will wake him.", W"You need not; I' think I hear wheels Yes; they are ,coning, for me. Mrs. Martin I will see you about Susan and Johnnie to- morrow or next day; meantime, I leave them in your care. Good-niight."' " What a white angel she is !--alnmst as pale is the poor creature on the bed yonder. I catch my breah sometimes when she looks like she did just now." All three sighed simultaneously, and the dull click, click, beg i again. It was no the carriage which Irene met at the' door, but Dr. Arnold's buggy.. " Irene, are you ready to go home ?" "Yes. Mrs. Davis deadd" "As I' was leaving Mrs. Churchbill's ypur father told me where you were, and I tNought I would come after you. Put on your shawl and, juhmp in. You are i i pretty plight, truly,..to stand over a death-bed I'Vanity of vanities ! all is vanity I'. ere, let me wrap that gauze, cloud around' your head. Now. thThe top of the buggy had been lo6wered,and as they 'rode homeward she leaned her head back, turning her face!to the sickly moonlight; rsuee, did Aubrey come up here .with No, sir. . He was at the'Row for a while however . You must havermet him returning. " "' 'did ;, what did liewanthere ?'" " You' nust sk himIf you are curious. It is mln bUsiness of eihethryours or mine to watch his: moyenaents." ,x I wonder he was able tohear himself from tha~'rown Sybil, Salome. What a slendid dark pair they will he some day, Ien he maks her' Mrs. Atubreyf " Sugeoni-like, le was" ptesig his fig~ heavily on the Notind, but no ilnli~ ud be detected-no'inoan ofpalin; and 'le was I r 131 1 MAVAdI ig startled by a singular short, quick lalgh , which y sounded to his ear like the sd sniping t, of musical string. t the hd hearda her 1 htid h hcd heard her laugh since her return t'r'om' ;i York. '"{ Saf h y " Sae f Siipe ! ;how bong'sine your trans' migration into a latter nedag ei gey rt y News-monger be ged'! It s a trans- parent fact that Aubey intends to marry t h p daughter of', erodias. Don't;uele i Irene ? -' you ellevet, d Doctor, °I believe I have droppedIm s bouquet-holder. eI a tve rope s o nu t-obl iu am sorry to goe yo~u so. o much, trouble, but ;Unele Elric bought 'it ,fur me1 ', in Geneva, and I should dislike to.'lose it. e Give me the reins. Y"nder it is, in the sand- . I see its glitter." d Fulminating inaudible lagues on the clasei silver ,toY the doctor pked it upaad yaced 1 it in her hand.,.,' t " Drop yourself out next; won't you,, when you have another question to dode ?" t " What is the 'Mtte'?. Who has fretted your sir 'cWere 'you cheated' out 'of your You fret me yondalltiece slipping everlastingly through 'my fingae h1 , pang swer me one thing truly; arc youagoing to marry Bainbridgo, as everybody believes, and as Leonard led vme yo suppose evn " No, Dr. Arnold; 'I shall never mnrry 'Mn. Bainbridge." n prif hi does not suit your fastidious.taste pray who- will, Queen P?" " You might, perhaps, if you'ert thirt fve yeryo g J- aii re y~ five y yungei,',and, 'a ,trifle ,leis' surly. 'Dor, come in, and let me give you a glass of1 wn i'ey late and you must beitired " ,o.-but I wiill' light my pip e at the' haill-i lamp." They went into thehouse, and as he, filled and lighted' his pipe his-cavernous eyes ran curiously over her." "How you have blazed to-night ! Your diamonds are superb." Y1es, sir. " 41Go to sleep' at. once, child:: , You look as if. you had. seen a ghost. W t h ' noted f your forehead in that sy 1I have looked upo m c to-night, and haveseen to hedpe chideien orphaned. Conaewand see me~nu~X*'to consult you about an rpha n u i ni father' has given me a lot" G an i am very mu Ax o! a figeto o , sr ; sI hnide e " 'body else is half so ceonsider atand t 61zi til ' In her.own ro she tool soff the jwels, on her dresino n, n tutoe obera tory and stdowno* h heh~dp ~qo the' lasdoorlnn a~wr~,' idio4 and s~i~st 'xgt'hth'ee bei Aed there lived one woniam wh~o woul be page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 182 MA t C1. . true to her own'heart,;-though the heavens fellan tliworld p hsed away!" ' Th~~ Wd of corn'were the .burning shoes or.hch iher bare Tet 'trod, and his bit e ents"iled up',anddown her lonely heart, mourful as the ceasedss .cry of 'Afzq Perdiia"in miobless, breezeless Ama- zonian solitues i-Through the remainder of that cloudlestnight she wrestled silently--not like th'eJerish patria'oh, with apgels-but with D#~aie', grip as Geryoh." At last, when' the k' flushed rosily, life aa opal smitten with light, and hlpResionation-the blessing born only of great 'tria?,like' hers-Wshed' its heavenly' chrism;over the worn and weary' brUised and bleeding sirit,'she gathered u tharaniedhovs that might h ave laddened, and ifled and glorified her earthly 'career,, and pte sihe the ruills to' hey'"heart, lain' her- self e;kly downoffering 'all'upon the tod- built altar of Filial Obedience. Inthe' . .early morning,'when the air was delicate with some last starry touch," she opened the doorof, hel' faher's room and approached the bed. The noise wakened him, and, raising himself on his elbow, he looked-*onderingly at her. What iA the matter,.Irene ? You look as if you had notclosed your eyes." 44 ather)you took ,ne in your arms last night, and kissed me as you have 'not done before for years; but I feared'that when Mr. Bainhridge told you what passed between us at' Mrs. Churchbill's you would' g in .close hr eart against -me. 'Do not! 'o, do not ! eesuse I prefer to remain at home with you rather 'tan accept his brilliant' offught youto' l e me less ? I have 'pent a sorio*- ful, a.wretched night, and, like,a" weary child, I have~come to you to find rest for my heart. Oh, "-therl my father I do not cast me .off :again I Whom have I in the world .but you ? gBy the memory of ry sainted mother I ask- I claim your love !" -""Yodeare a strange girl, Irene ; I never' did understand you.'But I don't want to drive syo froni me if:.otprefer to live -here single. here shallbe peooehtween us, my dear - aughte+"', le leaned' forward and laid his' band ressingly on 'her head as she knelt at hisa side pleading with uplifted arms. "And lier face'is iily-icar, Lily-shapied and dropp~dciIn duty To thi law of its own biuty. Asd a forehead, fair and saintly," Which two blitie byes utdershine ike meek prayersbefor a'shrine." QRAPTER XXII. ~ The tleadherbus four ~ereblla 'broken ,at'lasth bythe niutter of the 'stokniwhich' wae soasoon to adep orvr the aiod ipostrdtlig all interests and 'bearing'-desolation to almost every hearthstone in our once'happy, smiling land of constitutio al 'freedom. Sleepless watchmen on the tower of Southern Rights- faithful guardians, like William L. Yancey, who had stood for years;in advance of public opinion, lifting their warning voices far above the howling waves of popular faction and party strife, pointing to the only path of safe- ty--,now discerned the clou4 upon the lori- zon; andI at the selection 'of' delegates, to the Charleston Convention hedged our cause with cautious resolutions. Among the number ap- pointed was Russell Aubrey; and during' the tempestuous debates which ushered in the war" of 1861 his earnest, eloquent pleadings on the question of a platform rang through his state,. touching the master-chord that thrilled re- sponsive in the great heart of the people. When demagogism triumphed in that convep- tion, and the Democratic party was rent' into hopeless fragments, Russell returned, to stamp the state in favor of the only candidate whom he believed the South could trust with her lib- eries ; and during the arduous campaign that ensued, he gathered fresh laurels and won a brilliant reputation. Aside from individual ambitious projects, the purest patriotism nerv- ed him to his ceaseless labors. He was deeply impressed with the vital consequences, of the itrpending election ; and as the conviction forced itself upon his mind that, through the demoralization 6f the Northern wing of De- mocracy, Lincoln would be elected, he en- deavored to prepare the masses for that final separation which he foresaw was inevitable.; During that five months campaign faction, 'fanaticism, demagogism, held high revel-ran riot through the land. Seward cantered tow- ard Washington on the hobby labelled Eman- cipation, dragging Lincoln at his heels; and Breckinridge, our noble standard-beare, with the constitution ii .his hand, pressed on to save the sacred precincts of the capital from pollu- tion.' The gauntlet had been thrown down by the South at Charleston and Baltimore: "The. election of a' sectional President will be the signal for separation." The North sneered at the threat,'derided the possibility,'and in fran- tic defiance the die was cast. '- The 6th of Noveniber dawned upon a vast populous em- pire, rich in every resource, capable of the acme of human. greatness and'prosperity,, claiming to be the ardian of peaceful liberty. t set upon a naati'dirent in 'twain, between whose sections yawned bottomless, bridgeless gulf, where the;shining pillars of the temple' of Concord had stood for eighty years; 'an'a' rating sound of horror shuddered throughthe and as 'the 'brazen, bloodeclotted' doors, of Janus- flung themselves suddenly wide a part. Linicoln was elected. ' Abolitionism, so Son adroitly cloaked, was triumphantly' clad n robes of states-shamneless anw and 'hideogms; and while the ~thlooked upon the loathsome A ,; face of its political Mokanna, the South pre- pared for resistance. No sureri ndiation of the purpose of the, Southern people could have been furnished than the- temper in which the 'news was re- ceivel. No noisy outbursts, expendingresotve in einpty words--no surface excitement--ent a stern calm gloom, set lips, heavy bent brows, appropriate in men who realized that they had A revolution on their hands.; not indignation- meetings, with fruitless rps&lutions-that they stood asbody-guard for the liberty of the Re- public, 'and would preserve, the trust 'at all hazards. It would seem that, for a time at least, party animosities would have been crush- ed ; but, like the Eumenides of Orestes, they merely slept for a moment, starting up wolfish and ,hnplacable as ever; and, even here in many instances, the old acrimony of feeling showed itself. Bitter differences sprung up at' the very threshold on 'he modus operand of Southern release from Yankee-1gyptic bond- age. Separate "state action" ,or" co-opera- tion" divided the people, many of whom were earnestly impressed by the necessity and ex- pediency of deliberate, concerted, simultane- ous action on the part of alf the Southern states, whileothers vehemently advocatedthis latter course -solely because the former ,plan was advanced and supported by their old op- ponents. In this new issue, as if fate persist- ently fanned the flame of- hate between 1ir. Huntingdon and Russell Aubrey, they ware again opposed as candidates for the State Con- vention. Ah! will the, ghost of action ever be laid in this' our republican land? Shall this' insatiate immemorial olitical Fenris, 'for ever prey upon the people . W --- was once more convulsed,, and strenuous efforts were made by both sides, Russell was indefatigable in his labors for prompt, immediate state' action, proclaiming his belief that co-operationwas impracticable before/seoession ; arid it was now that 'his reo- searches in' the dusty regions of statistics came admirably into play, as he. built up his ar u- ments on solid foundations of indisputable ci culation.P For the first time in her life Irene 'openly confronted her father's wrath on political, grounds. She realized the imminence of the danger, :dreaded the siren , song of co-opera-. tion, anddauntlessly discussed thematter with- out 'hesitation. The iin t was closeand heated, and resulted, "'hat sin ' larly ini the election-of a mi cketh-=two ecession- ist ret irned, aa One, Co-operatoirst, Mr. fduntindon, owing to personal popularity. : While the entire Southi ai gigrdingfolthe contestsouth Carhlina. gert evantgoyrri' ' iii the mareh~ of 'fde lo a sege andijf dAij had existed hefoie it~iihdno u from ererind..-for all felt :ht he gillant ptate I rist' e su'staine.t 8.on aft r,J Knell '( d Mr. Huntingdon stod'face o 'ae oni the foor ARIA.'". 133 of their own state eonve o i d wrestled desperately. The latter, headed n opposi- tion, apd so contumadiose did itproe that, for some days, the fate of thestt apn- geroua equilibrium . ,Fintlly:the vg a9eof the Secessonists prevailed, and, la$ i be afternoon of a winter day, theordinancesas signed. Electricity washed t1.g decree to ever) ppr- tion of the state~ and the tmu der of y tiler and iaze of countless ijllnuigations t9;.that the people. gratefully and joyf lydaegepted the verdict. W'-. was 'vociferos ds Irene gazed from the colonnide othe stant iut brilliant rows ofilghts flaming alo g the streets;. she regretted-;tiat respect for her 'father's feelings kept the windows of her own home dark and cheerless. Revolution .is'naQla'g rd, bpt.shift-winged as Hermes; and in 'unuccenion0even spy- ereign states, ii virt' of theinherent rights of a people acknowlegin allegiane, only to the fundamental doctrine that alljust'gove- ments rest on the' consent of the governed organized a provisional government, spraug, Pallas-like, upon the political arena, ndclaim- ed; an important rolein'the.:grz i.'drama of the nineteenth century. Itwssnot to be ex- pected that a man of Mr. IHuntingdon's known acerbity of teinpei would yield gracefully:to 'a defeat against'which head struggledfe arn- estly, and he submitted with charcte tie suil- lenness. Great contrariety of opi ioggjrevailed co cerning the- course of the e derai oyern- ment-ana;geluding thehieees T ith the belief4tls eparation would be pea",ul. But Rusell be4 stated his convctien at'he trae ino election, that no bloodles revolutio of!equal magnitudehad yet bein erfected,;and tl ' !weYust pepare to pay the invariable sacrificial dues whi liberty in- exoably demands. Sofirm was-this belief, tht Ihe apliedhin self to'4he study of' military acctiesn;i- p tion of entering the arny ; andm nyaaid no ht found biri bending eve Hiardee,, han, G hany,, Jominiand Army uin. The 12th ad 13th' ' A {'er days of unexampled exciteme tpouth- ern states, The disc r e of' first;"un fromFort' Monltricrushed th ,lat ingerig vestiges'of " Uninisin" and wed the entire Confederacy in .ne huge homogeneous mass of'stubborn resistance:'t , depo With th, explosio.ofthed frphey' ,niedlb eiieral, Beaure arfdagaint ' Frt'Su wfter.burs4ti e frail painted bbble of R su ilnidh had danced' allurigl uothd k' suvg blows of reyol~n 'w a~ if te 8afn' d f ;i nt es lriviig rapily hswrd~ e g e t'eps, she niet him athe bngg~r .14 .;III page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 MAC "Beauregard has taken Sumter. Anderson surrendered unconditionatly. No lives lost."' "Thank God.!". Tli.y sat.downon the steps, and a inoment after the roar'QI' guns shook the, atmoAphere, and :theer after cheer went up the evening sIy."-/ "hAt 1, of a long and bloody civil iar," said 1Mr. Huntingdon, gravely. "Perhaps so, Father; butit was forced 'upon us. We left no honorable neans untried to event t;' and now it rust be accepted as the least of two evils. Political' bondage-worse than . Rsian ser dom.-or armed resistance,; no other alternatives, turn it which way you will; and the° Southern people are aot of stuff to deliberate as to choice in such an issue. God is witness that we have earnestly endeav- ored to avert liostilities=-that the blood of this war rests upon' the government at Washing. ton" our hands are stainless." '' believe you are right, and to4lay I have' come to a determination which will doubtless surprise you."_ H paused, and eyed her a moment. "No, Father ; I am not surprised that you have determined to do your duty." " How, Irene ? What do you suppose that a itis ?". ;'To use Nelson's words, the Confederacy 'expects that every nian will do his duty;' and you are going into the army." "Whi told you'that ?" " M'rown-. heart, Father; which tells. me whlat should do were I in your place." "Well I, Ihave written to Montgomeiy, to Clapham, to tender my services: e ere at West/Voint torether;i I served under- him at Contreras and Chepultepec, and ,,will no doubt press matters through .promt.a.The fact is, I could not possibly 'stay 'at home how. My blood haf een at bilingheat since yes; terday morning,: when .I read Beauregard's first dispatch"' ' Did you specify any branch of the ser. vice'I "Yes;' told,him Ipreferred artillery. What is the matter ? Your lips are as white as cot- ton. . ourage 'ailing youa already, at thought of grapef,4 l, a4p sister ?" A long "s orept ver her, and she shield- ed her face-*itlh her hands. ^'When, she niet hiseagle eye again her vdibe was unsteady. 'O,'Father! if I worn only a man, th4a might gb witli you--stand y youuhder all circus stances. Could n't -you take me ang- i b ?''Surey a daughter ma follow her S:rfather, eye hn the battle-dfied' _ 1(e I ule lightly, ad dwept his 'fingers "'Could n t you learil a little conmrden-sense, if you 'were 4g try? Do1 youauppose 1Iwant all this gI blid doif yours' stremhimg in ray taowhl af getng y guns inooii ARIA. my battery ! Really, though, Irene,.I do not believe that you would flinch before all the cannon of Borodino. My blood, beats at your heart,-and it has never 'yet shown a cowardly- diop. If yogi were a boy, I swear you would not disgrace my name in any conflict. By the way, what shall.I do with you ? It won't do to leave you here all alone." " Why not, Father ? '"Home is certainly the proper place -for me, if you cannot take me with you." "'What ! with nobody but the servants ?' " They will take better care of 'me than anybody else. Nellie and Andrew and John are the only guardians I want in your absence. They have watched over me all my life, and they will do it to tlie end. Give yourself no trouble, sir, on my account." "I suppose your Uncle- Eric will be home before long; he can stay here till I'come back -or--till the trotiblesare over. In the mean- time, you could be with the Harrises, or Hen- dersons, or Mrs. Churebhill."' " No, sir ; I, can stay here, which is infinitely preferable on many accounts. *I will, with your permission, invite-Mrs. Campbell to shut up the parsonage in her husband's absence and ,remain with me -till Uncle Eric returns. I have no doubt that she will be glad to make the change. . lo you approve the plan ?" " Yes. That arrangement will answer for the present, and Arnold will be here to take care of you." At the close of a week a telegraphic'des- patch'was received, informing Mr.'iuntingdon of his appointment as major in the provisional ardy of the Confederacy, and containing an order to report immediately for duty. Some days- of delay were consumed in. necessary preparations for an indefinite ab- sence. Sundry paper, were drawn up by Judge Harris-an old, 'will was destroyed, a new one made-andexplicit directions were reiterated to' the overseer at the plantation. More 'reticent than ever,'Irene ' used herself in devising and arranging various little com- forts for her father, when: he should be de- barred from the luxuries of home. No traces of tears were ever visible on her grave, 'com- posed face ; but several imes, on coming sud- denly into the room, helfound that her work 'had fallen into her lap and that her head was bo ved down on her- arms. ' Once he dis- tin'iuished low pleading words of prayer. Sh loped 1in w t devotion ver rarely found' between father d child, and this sep- arktio cost her hoursadf{silent 'AonY which even Ee father conl tinot fully a prelate. X irgcon leted lis arrangmens and liglit htext'mening to convey him to the depot,; he bade her good night 'much as usual' and retired to hik Own room. Hotund eslssyo'hs ilw, ros and MACARIA. smoked a second. cigar, and, returned,: to find himself more wakeful than ever. 'The clock down stairs in the library struck one.; his door opened softly, and, by the dim moonlight strug- gling thi ugh the window, he saw rene glide to his bedside. " Why don't you go to sleep, Irene ?" "4Because I can't. I am too miserable." Her,-voice was dry, but broken, faltering., "I never knew you to- be nervousibefore; I thought' you scorned neryes ? .Here, my daughter-take this pillow, and lie down by me." . She put her arm about his neck, drawing his face close to hers, and' he felt, her lips quiver, as they touched;'his cheek.' "Father, when you know exactly:where you are to be stationed, won't.you let me cone and stay somewhere, in the vicinity, where I can be with you if you should be wounded? Do promise me this ; it will be the only comfort I can have." . " The neighborhood' of an army would not be a pleasant place for you; beside, you could do me no good even if I were hurt. 'I shall have 'a surgeon to attend to all such 'work much better than-your inexperienced hands could possibly do it. I am surprised at you, Irene; upon my word, I am. I thought' you wanted me to go into service promptly ?-", " So'I do, Father.' I think that every man in the Confederacy who can leave 'his family should be in our army ; but a stern sense of duty does not prevent people from suffering at separation and thought of danger. Should be unworthy of my country-if I were selfish enough to want tokeep. ou from'its defence; and ,yet I were unworthy- of, my father if I could see you leave home, under such circum-' stances, without great grief., Oh!,if I could only go with you! ut to have tostay here, useless and inactive!" "Yes_-it is bad to be obliged to leave you behind, but it can't be helped. I should feel much better satisfied if you were married and hadsomebody to take care of you ,in case any4- thing happensto me. It is'your own fault'that you are not; I never could understand what possessed you to discard.Bainbridge,,Still, that is past, and- I suppose irreparable, and now youmust abide by your own',choice." "I am satisfied with my choice; have no regrets ,on 'any score, save that of your de- parture. But, ,Father,,the future is dark and uncertain; and I feel ti I want an assurance of your entire reconei ib . and afeetion( be. fore'you go. I came4ere;tosay tocyod that I deeply regret all the unfortunate circumstances Of% y'life which' caused-you to threatt. me'so- coldy for'a season.-'-tbat inauythinga I lve ever seoxed obstinate or upd i~ul' itwas not begaiise ~,aiedim love for you, but from ahi unhappy differenceof iopini9n as to oiy duty hart ached erybittry ude )'ru estis ge ment-the very memory is unutterablypain- ful I want your full, free forgiveness. nOwef all the trouble I have eder occasioned you. Oh, Father ! give it to me 1 . He drew her close to him afid isC her twice. You 'have my forgiveness, mny daughter- though I must tell you that your treatmer of poor Hugh has been 'a'continualsouree of sorrow and keen disappointment' to me.'I never pan forgt, your disobedience'i that matter. I do not believe you will ever be hippy, you have such a strange disposition; but, since you took matters socomnpsletely in your ownhands, you have only yourselt to reproach. Irene, I very often wonder wether you have, any heart-.-for it seems to me tat if you have, it would, have been won by t e'de- .votion which has been lavished 'on you more than once. You are the only woman I ever knew who appeared utterlyincapable of ,lova,; and I :sometimes wonder' what willibecome of you when I amt dead." ",God will protect me. I look continually to his guardianship. Father, do not be o fend- ed if 1 beg you most earnestly to givoe:so sie thou ht to Rimwho has blessed 'youso'an- dantly in the privileges of this Wotld, und to prepare for that future into which you maybe ushered, at.any moment, from the'jbattle-ekld. You have never allowed me to speak to you on this subject; but oh, my dear father! it is too solemn a questions to 'be put aside anylomi. If you-would'only pray tor yourself; my mind -would be eased ofsuch a weight of aiziety and apprehension. "Oh! that the spirit of my. mother may rin in my prayers before the Throng ,in Yourbehalf,!" ' Hfle unclasped her arm and turned his fhce away,. sayii ,'coldly: avd7 you consider; it your privilege to' tell me. that I am so wicked there is po ho pe4'or me in the next world..if the'e be'.one'' o "lo! no! Father f 'but it is enjoiend eS the duty of even the purest and h dliest, t datekk - edge theirdependence on Godail d 'snplicate flio mercy and direction.- It is truei-I=pray b* stanty for you but that is a ut whi our Maker requires every ,ndividial to',,efom for himself . o not be displease4, Father;.if it wereanythingoles t 'a,, yur 'Prna hap- piness I should not presume to'4estion yoor conduct. :1can only hope, and trast'that'your life will'be sp reds and tl soie ayouwill, without - ffene, suffesrimie to talk . to you of what deely t" Col cOri ,nz"peaice'or ,ind. .I wyoh ence wott e 70u ger a M ,Yu b e a tedousourieyd t, ~ny, dear father." " ' ;;., F,:., v,, a $hekse1l heiinenr'lyand letl 'him, 4 0ng whe t c iaer tted dfrene folowt hr the t thstpo 1'35 .lU I Z. Jli it"i {I F page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] MAGARIA. Ever in that dim,.uncertain -gray light he tops; the sundflashed up in conqueringsplen- E oul4 eetba her face was rigid and haggard, dor, and the glory Qf the spring day broke upon a trs filled, hig old:brilliant eyes as he the world... foalde_ l her te his heart . , , . ' ' to,' hi y herC "'To-day thou girdest up thy loins thyself, ;YI dS ,', ; ' ty.. ieer up, .mybrave And goest where thou would'st: pre ntiy ch ..;I :iadlobk.on .the 'bright side. After all, Othora shall gird thee.' said thq Lord; to go S I cor'e' balk a brigadier-general, and Where thou would't not.' tiake yononepf my'stafflofflcers! You shall- be pyr'aijutani, and light up 'niy office with CHAPTER XXVIII routrgoldnhead, Take care of yourself tillC-E- ', Eric:t# mes, and write, to me.often. Good-by; To those who reside at the convulsed throb- Ty dear,,y 'darlingdaughter." bing heart of a -great revolution a lifetime She trembled convulsively, pressing her lips seems compressed into the compass of days repeatedlly to his. . ', -' and' weeks, and menu and women- are, conscious "O,,may G dblss you, my father, and of growing prematurely old while watching bring ypu agfe. back to ;me !. the rushing, thundering tramp of events, 'por- Regwo . her arms,,put her gently aside, tentous with' the: fate of nations. W -- and atepedinto the carriage. presented the appearance of a military camp , William, the cook, who was to accompany rather than, the peaceful manufacturing town him; stco4;sobbing near the door, and now of yore. Every vacant lot was converted into advancipg,graspe her hand. a parade-ground--and the dash of cavalry, " ' Good-by, .iss Irene., May the Lord pro- thle low, sullen -rumbling of artillery, and the tect yot all till we comeback !" ' slow, steadystread of infantry echoed through 'Willian, .1 look to you to 'take care of its wide, handsome streets.°lag-staffs were Patter, ,and let e know at once if anything erected from public buildings, private resi-- happe .dences, and at the most frequented corners, "es. Irene., I promise you I will and from these floated banners of all sizes, take ggpd care of Master, and telegraph you if tossing proudly to the balmy breeze the new- he is hurt' born ensign, of freedom-around which clus- He wrung her, band, the carriage rolled tered thehopes of a people who felt that upon rapidly away, and the sorrowstrieken, tearless them, and them only, now'devolved, the sacred woman ,at downon the steps and dropped her duty of provingto the world the ,capacity of a head in her:hands. Old Nellie drew near, nation -for .self-government. In view of the wiping her eyes and essaying comfort.' iniquitous and impossible task which it =had "Don't fret so, child.. When trouble comes insanely set itself to accomplish,' the goyern- it will be tine enough to grieve over it. . Mas- ment at, Washington had .swept aside all con- ter was in the Mexican war, and never had a stitutional forms,.in order to free-its hands for scratch ; and maybe he will be as lucky this the work of blood-had ultimatedi in complete time. Don't harden your face in that flinty despotism. -,The press Was: thoroughly muz- *y. You never would cry like. other chil- zled --freedom, of speech was erased from the drengbut gust set yourself straight up,ifor all list of American privileges; the crowded cells thqworld like one of the stove dihurea standing of Bastile Lafayette, Mcfenry, and Warren ovet your'grandfather's grave. Try to come wailed .out tostheeivilized 'world that 'hebeas and "take a nap; I know you have n't' shut corpus -was no more; and, terror-stricken at your eyes this night." "'_thehideous figure of Absolutismscarved by the No-I catsleep. Go in, Nellie, and cunning fingers of Lincoln and. Seward,; and leave me to'myself." . -set up for worship at Washington,-Liberty fled The:shrill scream of the locomotive rang froni her polluted fane and sought shelter and' through the' still,' dewy 'air; and 'between two shrine on ,the' banner of the Confederacy, in. neighboring hills the long train of cars dashed. the dauntless,, devoted hearts of its uncon- on, leaving fiery trauok of sparks as it disap- querable patriots. Fondly and proudly was eared around a curve. Oppressed with ,a the divinty guarded., Smiling flowery val- orrible dread; against:which she struggled in leys rang with pmans that rose high above the vai rene remaied- alone, and was only din of deadly strife-and rugged, lonely hills aroused from her painful reverie by the, low and purple'mountaisilifted themselves to the musical cooing of' the 'pigeons; already astir. God of battle, 'lik 'huge smoking 'altars 'ed As they fluttered' and nestled aboutshe 'ex- witj,'the .noble 'blood:of slaughtered 'heroes' teided'aher a s, and atchi a' two of the Loathingeeand detestation succeeded the'old gentlest to her seart, murmure raournfully: affection 'for the Federall government, nand 'KCors egniessngers of e I "bring me "tCion. b ame.._veijherethe .synonyme resignation. Teach 'me Vatsenceand fpith.'"' of political duplicity, despotismy~aid the uitter '4Te 'erupty ardiage~ aie sely' up 'he abrogation of all that 'had onee' constituted aveiasfs returning frbrna'fdnereil and' American freedoma and rendered 'the rieppblic, passed tosgthefstabletyard ; ids'etgd, twit- in earlier years,'the'civil Phaseof's Christen- tered, sang in othe. wavering, glistening dree- dom." The OonfederacyzfaIlized thatthe hour had arrived when the historic. Sphinx' must find an'todips, or Democratic republican lib- erty would be devoured, swept away, with the ebris of other dead systems. Lifting =their eyes to God for blessing, the men of the South girded on their swords' and resolved, calmly and solemnly, to prove that ogdipus-to read, and for ever set at rest the hatintin, vexing riddle. Another adjective than "6Spartan " must fleck with glory the pages of future his- torians, for -all the stern resolution and self- abegation of Rome and' Lacedmaon had entered the souls'of Southern women. Mothers, 4ilosed their lips firmly to repress a wail of sor- row as they "uckled on 'the' swords of' their first-born, and sent them forth with a " God- speed-l"to battle for the right ; fond wives silently packed their husbands' knapsacks, with hands that knew no faltering; and sisters, with tearless eyes, bent by the light of;midnight- lamps 'over canteens which their thoughtful care covered for brothers who were to start to the scene of action on the morrow. A nation of laboring, -nimble-fingered, prayerful-heart- ed, brave-spirited women, and chivalric, high- souled, heroic imen; who had never learned that, Americans could live and- not be free. Grant us our reward, 0 Godi! the independ- ence of the land we holds dear.' W-' gave her young men liberally; company after company was equipped, 'fur- nished with aniple funds by the muiificenee of citizens who remained,, and sent forward to Virginia, to make their breasts a shield 'for the proud old "Mother of Presidents." The bat- tle of Bethel was regarded as pa-t of an; over- ture totthe opera of Blood, yclept'" Subjuga- tion,"- and people' watchedin silence for'the crimson curtain to rise upon the banks of the Potomac. Russell 'Aubrey had succeeded in raising 'a fine full company for the'war, as contra-distinguished or twelve months vol- unteers; and, to properly drill and discipline it;"he bent all the energy of'his character. It was made the nucleus of a 'newregirient, re- druits gathered rapidly, and when the regi- ment'organized, preparatory to starting for Virginia; he' was elected colonel, with Herbert Blackwell for lieutenant-colonel, and Charles Harris was appointed' adjutant. They were temporarily eneamped on the-common between the railroad depot and Mr. Huntingdon's resi- dence, and'from the observatory or colonnade Irene could loot down on the gleaming tonts and the flag-staff that stood before'the officers quarters Reeille startled her' at dain,-and tattoo regularly waredl'herfof the shortness ff susmerimghts.'As' ti filerycariia esho s would'notbtok the sight of the eaipm'inert ; she discarded Sls or t4inie''g gwhen' cOti- pelled'to leave homet rodt Erebus, atnitelighyt ritk'f~'Or 'life.'fbouhe' eyfnued' the 'greatest rehu ance/to/the'soutrd/df' Oumrrfife. " e'sftinrnoonaalhe weattpvr 'ton'heRo,# a4thence to thie"Faetoryf' Ahew oingdny had been named in ''honor of her father;'"n i- forsni and 'haversabits were 'to be furnished, and Mr., Huntingdon had ntri4ised"'he'ihti the emmission. Selecting the cloth aniac- conplishing her errand,'she returned by w of the-orphan-asyum, whbos brick'wall ere rapidly rising under her supervision. O of the workmen took "her horseand she went over the building, talking to the principal me- chanic about some additional closets wlilph she desired to have inserted.' 'Dr.'Arnold'chOanced to be passing, but saw Erebus at the' gate, stopped, and 'ane in' "I was just going up to the 'Hill to fee-viou, Queer-glad I am saved the 'trouble. 'Here, sit down a minute; I will clear these shaviings away. - When did you hear from' Leonar ?" " I had a letter yesterday. 'He was 'well, and on outpost duty hear;lanassas." "Well, I shall join himvery soon." "Sir ?":'.' "I say I shall'join him very soon;' don't you believe' it? Why should n't I serve, my conui- try as well as younger' men ? 'The fact 'is, I am going as surgeon of. Aubrey's'reghent. "It would never do'to have the handsoite"colonel maimed for lith through'the awkwardness'of a nOw-fledged MD. "'Miks Salomewould spOil her superb eyes with crying-which catastro- phe would, doubtless, 'distress'himi ore than the loss of a liib eh,'Irene? She looked at him, betraying neither sur- prise nor 'regret. "When 'will you leave W ' "Day after tomorrow morning, can't jget transportation any sooner.- :ubrey has re- ceived orders to report at 'onde} to General Beaurn ard. Child-,have you been sick",?" '"'No, sir. 'Tam glad you adrgrbingwithi the regirni,t; very glad;"' Everyf.god suigeon'in the Coiifederaey should haste to the Front lipe of' our atnies. Since ybu' leave'hetIl am particularlyglad that 'you "onta going 'to Manassas, where you can'be near Father.' 'Himah! Do"-You supiose thatUil'a patent lfe-preserveragainstminie'balls'and grape-shot ? '"I know you will'db all that kItll andaffeca tion can'suggest, 'andY shall feelmuch better satisfied." He mused 'a moment, watching her ft r' tively. "I suppose you have"heard of the perform - ance ifor toimerrow ?" No, sir. Towhat do ydu allude ~'? -Thede+aughter of"Herodias e preparing to dadced - mohaddet Vo inded ? W.' 11thef',sh. 188 M AE4. 137 page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 1i88 4 M4qARIA.p I knew that, Salonge was having ,an elegan ,laggnsde, but waw not-agware that to-morrov was appo klted,~ for' the ceremony of presenta tion. "Who will look after you when 1 amin gone; Youare the ,only tie I have here. I can' beat'to leave you;."-- I dare say. I shall get on very well.;. and betide, you,.o1 course,, must go and,.do you duty, no matter whathappens," d d but yoi will be so lonely and isolated til Erie comes. She smiled suddenly, strangely,,yet with no tinge.of bitterness. "That is nothing new. I have been solitary all my life." . "And it is your own fault., Youmight bave married like other people, and been happier." "You are mistaken in assuming that I -am not happy, in my lome '. , "Hush, Irene ! hush ! I know the signs of true "happiness, if I don't possess -it myself. You. never murmur; oh, no !--you. are too proud !, You don't droop like .some poor, weak, sickly souls; oh, no l-7you'are too stately and regal. You will live and die a model of reticent chill propriety;, and when you, are in your shroud your plaid, treacherous face will bear no witness that you were cheated out of your rights in this world." -.. gain she smiled, and laid ber hand on his. "e What apity yoq mistook your forte in earlylife ; with such a' fertile imagination, not physic, but fidtior, was your calling. . When will you come to.see me? want you to take a.. arcel to'fathrer former; and then I want to have: A long lk." " I know what the uloog. talk amounts to. You need not hold out any such rosy.cheeked apples f odom as a bait. ] am comin, of course, after the flagacerewoniesewhere fam eete ,d. At one o'clock I will be at the Iill-1perhaps earlier. Where now ?" "tI must go' byMrs. Baker'str see about givingout some, sewing for the ' Huntingdon Rifles.' I can't i6 it all at home, and several families here require work. I shall expect you'at one o'clock-shall have lunch ready for you. . By the way, Doctor,.is there anything I can do for you jn the sewing line ? It would give e genuine pleasure 'tpmake something for you, if jou wil ohly tell me what you need.' 'Think tover, your wants;" She had caught up her reins, but paused, looking at him.. He averted his head quickly. ' Ill tell you to.morrow.. ood-evening." Taning;from the town;.pe .took a narrow sandy ;ad loading.amongdJomirregular hills, anud a psing a thiket ofwee gum,,bay, and pl that bordered * lear: brawling, ro xiok edstreat wluich 'ranacress the royd~ $a rod~ ts o a tgree roe og onesse. Twg 4nmali -esldren, ith. anomale~ hlishe white hair, were playing ,mgrples. an the pas- sage, nd a boy, apparently.tet yeats at age, t was seated on the ground, whistling ", Dixie " w and makingssplit baskets, such as are gener- - ally used on plantations ,for picking cotton. lie threw down.his work and ran to open the. ? gate, which was tied with a piece of rope. t ":How do you do, Hanson ? -Is your mother at home ?" , Yes, ma'm" r She gave him her bridle andt entered' the house, in one of the rooms of which she-found l a, ,.tall, muscular, powerful-looking woman kneeling on the floor.and engaged in cutting out workfrom a roll of striped cloth.. Putting her grayish hair behind;her ears, she paused, lgoked up,. and, with scissors -in hand, said, bluntly: I Be seated,. Miss Irene.. I have n't time, or Would get .up. Lucinda, bring some water fresh from the spring,,and if your grandmother is awake, tell her Miss Irene is here." " I see you have not finished your contract, Mrs. Baker.". "Very nearly, 'ma'm. I .will finish off and send in the last lot of tbese haversacks, by twelve o'clock. to-morrow.. The captain was out to-day to hurry.me up ;,.said the regiment bad orders to leave. day after to-morrow. I gave him my word. he should have then by noon, and that is something I never break." "Have you heard from your husband since I saw you ?" , Again the busy scissors paused. 4Not a; word.. But my boy, Robert, has had aterrible spell of fever in Lynchburg. I received a few lines from the ,doctor of the hospital yesterday. Thank God,! he wasbet- terwhen the letter was written. Hisfather knows;inothing of it. I can't find out exactly where Mr., Baker's companysis. - They are do- ing good service, I hope, somewhere-making their mark on the Union. wretches in the Vir- ginia valley. I want to hear that my husband had a hand in burning Wheeling4" . "I believe you'told me that you were from Virginia."y "Yes, ma'm; but not from that part of it, I; want you to understand. 'I was born in Amelia, thank my stars ! and that is as true as steel." ." It must be a great trial to you to have your husband and son'so far off, and yet sepa- rated.", " Qf course I hate to have them away, and times are hard for such a family, as-mine, with little means of support; ,but I don't grieve. Everyman has to do lis duty now, an4 every womanl, t90.:told Stephen !.thought I could take. care of the children' and myself-that -I would rather liye penacorns, than.that he should nt.servte his country when itneded him ;- and I eld Jthrwhen I fixed hii'off, that Inever woAd 'die contented if he and his father $d pt bothede something-to distinguish theeiselves in 'his war.. Ilam a poor woiu~n,. Miss .Xane,4brt no soul eloves the Confederaecy. MACARA. better. than I do, or will work harder for it. I have no money to lend our government, but' I give. n husband -and my ,child-and two better soldiers no. state can show." " You have done jpur part nobly, and 'I trust both your dear ones will be spared and brought safely back to you. .How 5is your mother to-day ?" y " Very feeble. I was up nearly all night with her. She had one of her bad spells. Have some water; it is sweet and cold," "Do you want any more,,work this week ?" "Yes ma'm; I should like some after to- morrow. Do :you know where I can get any?" " I can give you seventy-five flannel over- shirts, and the same number of haversacks ; but you could scarcely finish them all in time, and I thought I would send you the shirts and let Mrs. Pritchard take the haversacks." " I shall be very glad to get them. You are not raising a company 'yourself, Miss Irene-?" " Oh,' no! but there is a new company named 'Huntingdon Rifles' for my father, and 1ie wishes to give them everything they need. When can you come in to see me about cut- ting out the shirts ?", " Day after to-morrow niornigg, quite early, if it will suit you." "That 'will suit me very well. Here is that reiiedy for'asthma, which I mentioned to you once before. If you will try ,it faithfully, I have no doubt. it will at least relieve your mother of much suffering. If you can't find' the.ingredients here, let me know, and 'L can get them from the plantation." As the kneeling .figure received the slip of paper she rose,,and tears gathered in the large clear gray eyes. "Ihank you, Miss Irene ; it is very good of you to remember my poor old, mother bo con- stantly. I am afraid nothing witl ever do her much good; but I am grateful to you,' and. will try your remedy faithfully, ' I want to thank yop,, too, for the good you have done Hanson ; I never saw a boy so changed- He is up by daylight Sunday mornings, getting all things in trim, so that he can be off to Sabbath-school. I have always tried to teach my children to be honest and upright, but I am afraid I dinot do myp duty fully ; I am afraid they were neg- lected in some respects, till you began ,'with. them in Sabbath-school." "Your children all learn very readily, but iaiison:is particularly bri ht. amvery glad to. have him in myelass; he is . e opm9 best pupils."' went 'i" r~,:r - ', As shewent homeward a shadow fell ,uppu her'"ace --a shadow darker'than.;that cast by. ti'black plume in her riding-hat...--akd once. or tice other lips ws'ithegl fiognheir oriigary curves of, beguty'. Neargng the eampment she lbwered her vsil, but *awhit dregar a4 'had been dismissed ais sheliook therema 139 and Erebus quickened his gallop,,;she round herself face to faee with the, colonel, who had just, counted his horse and as ridin toward town. -She looked at him and bw d, i passing, he kept is eyes fixedon the roadl te- fare him, and in the duskiness 'his face ased colder and more 'inflexile.; than yer. had been the manner.of their ocpasimial eet ings since theinterview at t ie actoryp, and she was not surprised that this, her firstefret- ing, was disregarded. . The public beved that an engapm rent existed between;him and Salome, and the attentions heaped uponhim by the family of the latter certainly gave; color to the report. " But Irene was not deceived ; she had learned t9 understand his nature, and knew that his bitterness of feeling and studied avoidance of herself betokeped" that the.old affection had not been. rushed. "Struggling with the dictates. of her heart. and a sense of the respect due toy er father's feheligs, she passed a sleepless night in pacing the gallery of the observatory. It was a' vigil of almost intolerable perplexity and anguish. Under all its painful aspects she patenly weighed the hitter, and at .sunrise .next morning, throwing open the blind of her 'room, she drew her rose-wood desk to' the ,window,' and wrote these words: " COL. 'AunxY: " Before you'leave W ---- allow me to see you for a few moments. If your depar- ture 'is positively fixed for to-morrow, come to me this afternoon, at any hour which "nay be most conienieft. "Resectfully p' 5iENE HKTpG ON. "' )Intingdon Hill, .Jtnef1861." As the.regiment prepared to niarch to Mrs Churchll's residence,'the note was received frin Andrew'shands. Retnrnizgiis sword to its scabbard, the colonel read the paperat*ice, three' times-a heavy frown gathered 'on 'his forehead, his .sarthy cheek fired, apd, thrust- ing thi noteintohis pocket, he turned toward. his regiment, saying hastily to the servant: " YoU need not wait. No answerr' is ex- pectedZ? At the.breakfast-table Irene opened ahasty missive from Salome inviting'her tobe pres- en :t e presentation of ,he and nlgg- gin a, few choice flowers for te 'oeasign Sriingi s uetly, she filed the eempanyig basket with some of 'therarestatreasuree o' the reenhouse, added a bQ 1 of rasprri whieh ahe 'gardener had justrp thi, i' .onan sena g J'Ya*iti a b ef ine, ex.cusing rsel im attending. faTerpg1psrng gas 1fr .:;ix, '4 i peiitending the making 'favg ~ *t~ti of .kberry ,pelyan4 coditr hnief Anout noonr rn e t; , . t; '. "; ,t Y i 1 .f},,1 ; . 5 ' {. ~ , i i , , 1 t , 1 , . * page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] MACARA. engaged in 'sealing' up a number of the jars, "And what is to become of my conscience all, neatly labelled. The day'was warm;,she in'the meantime ?" hba pushed back her hair from' her brow as "Do6torI might answer in the words of se eaYnt over her 'work ;.the full' sleeves were Raphael to the Prefeat of Alexandria: 'What pihn d up above 'the elbow, and she wore a "will become of it in'any case, my most excel- iti~e cheek-msli apro nto protect her dress lent-lord'?' from the resinand beeswax. ' ' -" mph, child ! I am not such e "in Ae- nae op ,ece .namhnot suchiaabrepirb- '"n the name of'Medea and her Colchian bate, after all. But I am thankful i am not caldroh ! what are you about, Irene ,?" as some pharisees 'I know." "Pixing a box of hospital stores for you t'o She looked up inhis harsh face to read its take ' ith you." meaning.' He leaned forward, seized her "I'Fiin you Yankee ! crucify that' word ! hands, and said hurried~ly: I detest it. Say arrangin;, gettin up, putting "Do n't look so muchlike one of your own in order, aggreg'ting,"conglqmerating, or what pigeons might, if youhad coaxed it to: come you will, but save my ears from ' fixing'!'. How to you and then slapped it off. When I say do i know that althat trash was n't boiled in bitter thin gs y'u maybe sure you are the last a brass kettle and is not rank poison ?" personin my thoughts. Straighten that bent Because I always use a porcelain ke title. lip -1 did not allude to you, m t i . ,' g , . , . o youstaarry priest- It et is a lassd ; try some of my 'trash.' ess. I meant all that noisy crew down town, I am detei1tined to receive you " cordially.,"' who--" "Take' ti advice, Queen, and never at- " Let them rest; neither you nor I have any tenipt -another pun so long as life and reason interest in them. I wish, if you please, when areas pared to you. 'It is an 'execrable, heeath- you get to Manassas, that you would persuade enish, uncivil practise, which should be taboo- Father to allow me to comet at least, as far'as ed 'inall well-regulated respectable families.' Richmond. You have some influence vith As a class, your punisters are a desperate, him; will you use it in my favor ?"' vinegar-souled set: Old Samuel Johnson "You"'are better off at home; you cold treated th world to a remarkably correct es- possibly do no good." tim'ate of the whole sorry tribe.' Just a half- . " Still I want'to go. Remember, my father grass more., YoO have spilled a drop on your is all I have in this world.". immaculate apron. Well, your pun and your "'And what have you elsewhere, Irene ?" cordial are about an a par; not exactly either- " My 'mother, hy Sa iour, and miy God."t forqone has too much spice, and the otherunone " Are 7ou, then, so very anxious to go to at .all.' Virginia ?"he repeated, after a pause. "Well, then, Fadladeen, I will reconsider, ' " am. Want to be near Father." and send the box to'a Richmond hospital." "Well, I will' see what I can do with him. "No; give it'-to me.. The poor fellows who If I fail, recollect that he"is not proverbial for are to use it mar'not 'be so'fastidious. How liability. Look here--are you nervous ? much long er' do you intend to sit here ? I did Your fines 'twit h 'and so do your eyelids not' i tr 6nake m visit to the pantry.' occasionally, and your pulse is twenty beats too " 1 have 'finished,. si'r. Let me 'wash my quick." handgand r,"ill",ive' you some lunching the '"" I b'elie~e J am rather n ousatoa " diniiig-room' "Why v"tay." o;Iuriehed with the'israelite.y 'Salome " I did not sleep last night; that is oi because, was brilliant as a Thazilianire-fly, and pre& I suppose." set'd her banner quite 'gracefully. 'Aubrey "And the 'reason why you, did not sles ? lookedsplendidlyin bis'utniform'; was superbly Be honest with me'" happyin' his sp"ieh-always is. Madam did "'My thoughts, sir, were very painful. Do the honors mimitably,and, in fine----give ine you wonder at' it, In the present state of the that fan on tlie table--everything ;ws decid- Ountry ?" edly come ii faut. You were expected, and "Irene, answer me one question, dear child; - your ought to have gouse; it'looked spiteful to what does the future;cortamn for you? What 'a away. I should absolutely like to see you hope 'have youth ?- what do you live for ? , duIected to "212°.Fahreniheit, in order to "I have much to be " atefyl for-mnuchthat mnarl he'result.' fHere'[ an almost suffocating makes me' happy ; ani a hol e to do some ood *1t' s.tieat, trhiieb 'wohl')e% )ectable in ii' the world whie. d l ie. I wanit to b'e use- . i6i, adyou sit tlfebit u lyghtlook- fuli-4odfeel that Ihasylgadhed spdeat, i "'ioaMwest wiid ia Ma . Beauty, strengthened some despond'iy spirits, cared yop ""ould yoursef pante '"as 'social' bam toi'soi 4 n"she -oe 'r tet - We.attd b'oit n's the' ressd wndthe ph s of tos li Wm alk t e me o ofd a i n d i'a n ' g 'Bfife. Th'srnare tehds n I ei-ed tG 6%duedmyra inc aitp teormiplsh uoe; battat edeh Sn aarel 'and e ser"',o ynud tiinens p d laner 'theliniteid b ng . Please hand 'them to Father a tell sp eofehea ,tened, I o ni i-ded him:" ina' 'I 'i'" 'lE"' " "" ' '"' of?'aseri 5rand&if hithm': ''I si' which the centre is everywhere, the circum- ference nowheeu;' and' feel encouraged to hope that, after',all womans .circle,of action will prove as sublimeandextended. Doctor, remember:. S- ' No stream frQrm its source' Fiows seaward.,how lonely soever its course But what some land is gladdenei.' No star ever rose And set, without influence sorleivhere. "Who knows What earth n es from eaath 's Jovest teaturet No.11f Cai be pure in its p* rPose and strong in its atrife, And all life not be purei and atronger tierelby." 'bBut who pointed your aims and .taught you these,the~ories .' The emptiness of my 'former alife-the in- satiable yearning for solid,unalloyed happiness.. 1 enjoy societyafln"clingto -many social ties; but these alone coul~dnQt content ie. I 'love the world betteinfor striving to be of some littleuse to it, and i1should be pained to have anybody believe that I lhave grown misan- thropic or cynical, simply because I sometimeA. tie ft a roun of gayety, an: rn eabn t employ 'my tune usefully; and fors tho benefit of my.race, '.felt the pressure ofthe iron signet which.the Creator set to his high com- missionIs lhr lilo-lom'g human labor, and ,break'. ing the spell of inertia that bound mime, .,have,, in part, my reward. - .et leave to work in this world't is the best you get at all; For c, in cursinig, gies us better gifzp' Thaimn in beneictio. tlod say. 'sweat For oreheads;' men say"crowns;' and so *We are crowned, Ay: gashed bysome tormenting circle of steel 'Whichsimgps with a secret spring, Get work: get work; Besure't is better that 'what you wyork to get.' "Godknows we dolittie enough for eachother in this whirl"of selfishneq and grasping after gain. Have; you, then, fully resolved to, remai sin'eIt" Why' do you ask me that, Dr. Arnold ? k6 Because' you'are 4ear to me, Quteen;' and I should likdto seeyou happilymareied bef'oi'e I atimlaid away in my grave- "-. "you will never see it Be sure I shall live and die frene RutmingdoA- r "W Vhat' has induced you to doom yourself to a-"' ^ " " Ash mne no rore, Doctor If iam content with my lot, who else has thP right to ques- ti"on - ' , 'He looked,'into that fair chiselled face and wondered whether 'she could "be truly" ou- tent" 'and the purity and peace in her deep 4alm.eyes bafled'hiua rely. She rose, and laid her hand'on hisshouldere4 Dr. Arnold, promise nuie that, if there isa batty; andh Father huld he.hurtyu -will tel- .graph ' tn'gg p not, hesitte-le 'e knot the utik pmnediatel X . iIIyou0 " "Apniise. uo,,va h nk rhv " " Have.you any old 'ligenleft about the -house, that could be useful anong the onuided '?" ? have sent off a good deal but hae some deft- (Inwht formfdo you wat it': Asant, or bandags ?" " Nether. pack it just as .itandsend on ,by express, I can't carry the wor d 'on my shoulders;" A' ytiiing elase 'ri io the overseer's vie to aQW th , mu tard-see'she can lay 'her ha ad, save all the sage she can, And, Ztn b sure to send me every drop of honey yot can spare. That is all, I believe.,If 1,think'of anything else y I willwrite you."' 'a Will you take Cyrus with you Of course.. What guarantee have I that some villainous tray shell or shot ,my' not rjcoeliet ajid sh tve my head offt 1' I shall take him along totdrag m'e off'the ie4 in" any u h emergency; for, if'Ian not a Christian nfself, I want'to be'buried by Christian pegle -not by those puritaical 'goldeun'alf wor ihppers, of 'higher-la' notoriety. "trust that, yinthe exercise of yourprop fessional dutiesyou' will be in no'danger. Sur eons are rarelyhurt, I believe." "Not so sure of, that, $phericalease: or grapeshot have very little aspect for seientiic proficiencyor venerablold"'sg.' One Ything is artau; hoMMevr r4f afsythighappensTto me Cyrus will 'bring mnehome ;;and I ga t quiet place ' nea bo 'lot in the'ceoter, where your hads Queenwill s ei tie' about 'my'grave; Ab child"'TI'irea"'l ed e, lonely, savage sort of life, and isp l love on the ;w'rl or the y eople aboutme& have bid neither wife nor children ior'sierstrity home to hutnan ie ino,'butyou have alwteys had a.large shAre of my heart, and even Eebn ard canhardly love youbetteb tbasi dok Think of me sometimesQoeen,. aind*rit to me freely.: 'No' eyes but mir ne ilL eez'acsee your'letters." "I e stdod with his haiids.yon her s l d der speaking falteringly ; and' ;nable-t repl f inaidiately, she turaed'her lpaoto thse bawny' handwhich had stressedd Mler=,:r twenty-fte ears. Makioga great effort,' she said pleadingly ".r. Arno d; when "I pa' father I always include 'you 4: u peattdns I.o ;ou never intend to ,pray forous "I ahould nod, knw ho to 4egip pno*," 'A" Werd4 alwaysy ci it:l Fopo "' olon 1i' er". Ohl Do t9 JoiI 4;.:of y~u .tor, 'sl~looed p s 1nshe go " ' y "! hiave faith in yor prayers ht " ,siot inzsy 007- ~ or t~awye&a * 9 141 ate , ,{ ',qtr 'a !!11s 1Y1 I. . 7"r .;'r , 140 page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] 142 MACARtiA * 'ie stooped kissed her Forehead, n hnle oi tot bug iede th hea od hried hair was oped aid fastened with blue rib. out'oeli gy.(bons and from theheheayy folds her favorite She could not realize that he would be ex- clemtis bells hung quiivei with eve pose4'to tch eminent danger.as many others notion, and matchin ' in depth of h --and,'havig' eneluded her ilekirf tnd dei- violets 'that clustered on her bosom The spatched the bot to the depot, shewrote 'a.few" crystal calmness of her countenance was es to well known bookseller nd sent broken at last; a new strange light brimmed Andrew to' the store. 'An hour after he the unfathomableeyes and broke in radiat returned, bringing a package. of small- but ripples round the matchless mouth On the elegantly bound bibles. Frbm among the white brow, with its rarble-like gleam, "pure n bhe seleted ne of b beautiful, clear lilies of eternal peace" seemed resting, as type, ' d tkig it to her room'locked herself " in t esaallntrusion. oney length of a life. There we ad uiits idays, There were 19ng months and years, in thatheart-search- **ins*gaze. IAPTER XXIX. Never had her extraordihary beauty so R'he summer day was .near its death, when stirred his heart; a faint flu h tinged his'cheek, Volonel Aubrey rode uptestately avenue but he bowed frigidly, andhaughtily his words whose o green .arches were slowly filling broke the silence. with wiadows, Fastening his spirited horse to t" You sent for men, Miss Huntingdon, and I the J a pos,.he ascended, the marble sps, obeyed 'your- command. Nothing less would' 44 received his nard and. ushered him, have brought ine to your presence." into the, st parlor. The riph lace curtains She crossed;the rbonW andstood before him were aught back from thlihwide windows to, holding out both hands, while her scarletlips admit the air, and the whole room was hooded Auttered perceptibly. Instead' of receiving with ibtle intoxicating !-perfume, from nu- 'the hands he drew- back a step and crossed erous elegantvases otraie-Aveers,'which . his arms proudly over his°chest. she raised crowned mantle; 6tgbre, and , centre-table her fascinating eyes to his, tolded her palms a small ,paper-machk6standdedrawn before' together, and, pressing them to her heart, said n ;ov i win4ows atoed an e#risite cuti slowly and distinctly: glass bowl, fringed at the edge with eauiutim "I heard that you were ordered to Virginia, leave.d filled .itJi peretgold gart to the post p f danger; and, knowing to what watedri ,',whose snowy -petaes or tp : t: tb rties.you will be exposed, I wished to see you selve.sggsil, breathing incense hh pro at les nesuore inthis world" erhapsthe and mody visitor regsdY thena:Noment step amedaking'may be condemned by some, then:his piercing eye ran atoundt4heom and aa odeyiatia from the delicacy of my sex-I resed uon a large Qval picture QiOTe e:ntrust;Ian 'wauting in proper appreciation .site lA. this portrait 4Ie ad e of what is (he to my own selfrespecr--butthe painted .osn afier eh'legft''school, and repre feling _which . have. crushed back so -long sentpd nly the face: d, batnd ising out of a now emand utterance. Russell, I'have de. luminous'purplish 'uist=-a face'which might termunecd, to) freak ,the seal of many years have ;erved. for Guido's aurora, Clad in ,th silence-'o roll away the stone from the sepul- ha+ds a 'glitterig .unitorm, whio i' showed chre-$ telltyo all.1, f that ygu and I; is noblyepro ortioned ands powerful figure so ,nust understand each oqier before' . part ad gtogen the oler stood,hat in hand for al time, arnd,.therefore I sent for you." tlia #ngs ea ou'plute} dropping, toward 'the .he pauses, droopinMgr'head, unable to floon, i4d, , a'scanned the portraits lps meethis 'earhing !stady black eyes riveted mive4tsn4 hewords(crept inaudibly, mut ;upon hers; and, dawing his tall athletic fig- teringly, oner them: ure to its .utmost height, ekegd defiantly _ "Deholidher there, ' , eou nt for through compassionate , 91 heYid her ere she kne iheyt-' compunctions, then.-ritendiug, at the .close, i rst, i ee "the idol ef ai r youuth, to, of ,;ellt4us w ' The h isfmaoda aldost ta a; agaimousind in l oeu disdain t81 1 oiwthemeMessed inenr ae 7y' you? No, Uussell4 I do not pity The ~rwa obhihsaface dae ered ahmost t to no t y s.owi escribahl stern h tiedabru wellI.neither deserve nor desire awayedI look d roi h i :he open u*idow it." out upott the l easl+s . Wh Whatiae o yu oppose and t, dus ysaos tt~le&,- for',;i "ste , one fo yo o heeou 'your dt e'is. ey"ae f thughnA y er4eo youiseeo to A lwi :.r ress s f sewi muslin re. aling her ifita f. .r o on;t dazzling 'shouddef and every dirmple and God - hsitrityi nxrsil curve of her arms. The glittering bonze painfto memeprssbl II'l X numbingig t uspicion; crossed bei' miz d, kzi s hat sufterin our , long fleatj h blai'hingplipand cheek1to othh 1Fi te 4 a th co ,,lF a rdinto the q14 stue-1ik'e es A 'F nstant he *a redd ahi ij'igfl e. 1?hIdhe hideed, dead tglove her:g uinfel, Wad hea ebwiht herd a$ dFk eh n e plate i his mn h s a is,-estinhedhpl r, bo heart? e sdl without roipehenaing,eth, leaning isaarthy ho d1ek intntart esceha ie wleh eei v hych weg her and transparent asglabaste.r ':, m features, :aid'regarded her wit mingled i l "At las I iadbz 'the on n driem of'ui dm e patience an perplexity. 'I hioldyou tb mpt' ek'igd a "If dbe the truth Cole 'Aubrey, the owin[Who Ahall dare dispdte thari ht ypu ' inteviei isended' lips havgi in e Htred ia nWe ; bowed and tunee partially away, but noneli tall coibetwenie a't d 4ay %*nd pa d drresolntes ahinda by thatIlectrical Oh,renr-Iy mfbeautifulrdarlix itill pale face hiqhno , oman, or'child eversambitious hopes, not' all Ilhe fut 0re hol not 0okdRt withouetin otion- ' time, noreternity;,c4,0ltpuruhase the p;onc, ABefore wejp t bg f eereIshould ineprssible 'this utascrane . Ihave lilevto kuowhlhyf ,ow egt forgo e." toiled :andatrug e' tl h sullered 'sK "Do . o sgraer 'that, one year a o to lence; I have isen t"a d4 u ght, ie'& san thsteps of the ;'actory, and that soniti es' etun yiry, rlrao yotide ehefehngyou had: herished us nesri 'Fs n 1ha "+ utd;Ia'rg fagr n yar boyhood n my bard-e rnd ~success;lutt atnljc ix "].ti a :, eetig too fraught with pagn dim and m :, et ao an'nof'tiieation to be.soon'forgotten withtgreeaoi priQfle' 41 .lnl'eve you thought me cold eartless, yetirlove. Isaid .ribit hZlo and fligtheht shall he o c*n or ''o to b t it. or ift d: fairYggishti ge bfttod 'trs ' hegly coldnessearried its own int rpreta followed, iaudatedme cont a 4l" r P tion~'~ ' * , a rom MS. geehe o ffdyu4m yedause I knew th such was the harsh' ble inagetigse o i nyelthd.enterta iedrfor twelvemonths, mitoftttlr ie s a , = o tf es MI eav I idglihi opportu ityt' relieve myself of greatcw dGo 'eI. a unjgst'imputatt oe 4f peace had been oe.hour, o efe h n a ressured and you hade ~a i remained quiet= joyle fei lfrhere, I should nee have 4.cved you by your b c 1,;polished rese I Iar o for 'the :ame im erative reasons, thesame orddn erh unjust tpFs, a te st ru , necessity whichkhpt:Ve 'slentpeuthe yoering l nighttgl ice alue, wpuld have=ealed rmy ,an y trn± c atto ddi exif lip inugh life But alathine are-changed, u ht you are oinginto t ery w'off death, horrible withlg result no hin'fereght can re h at x now afi lng 'eri' I feel that ineyqutru lf alnt' itr0Iltliene' 1have mad ana 'ayclim the 'right to g oa your -a"Ff1 epee.k to'rn ofthat 'h bave e ys ea t e, that'you wet.,vOt peated to biywinthr i r y grave. tor t e° Agan wher eiaea head bowd itsl ' a Vint dnit'}4'tlyyooit Past biternessnd wounded ride were in- ci blame :t#Y W, it; 'di t be atayjy fprgotteidho!' kindled i mhis dark, with e stern faceaa beauty tat r rnly dwelt tb er , ee'I'ahdu eetn' I' 'otIV ' and, throwing lon hIs hate t ed for sr.u1Tht.d' hy t e;#n =I toR-.4;: wapd nd took ler folded hinds inhi strpagp yO1z 46ti~ri'iythz~s n l'' * Irenedo you intend m e te understand Was AlaV ityar4 iv I~ ar6 you willing~ that i she bielieehat after tedt Buthe all, have anraterestminyourihealrt--that Iam peramtent p sa o utl~e yQt bbi ,mofe toe'than you iver, before designed to tue I ried fib~yt letute 'know If tdndeged eso, ohl g ive heri faenin~tailai'hr snen uintakable assurngee' faded srgn : *lelips mond, he, stooped his, haughty itsb plwrll' yi'ns ~k~*1 ~h~t)ru kae enh te fr no soy a 9tei "iti]dh6 d'1(" niyr''S(*'hd. "\;EI o e 's'; , at, \ y, +eheoeM t 2 beey. ' page: 144[View Page 144] " No ! I had faith that, despite your angry efforts, your heart would be true to me." " Why-did you inflict no much pain on us both, when a wordwould have explained all? Wheo the assurance you have given me to-. day would have sweetened the .past years of trial?" "Because' I knew it would not have that effect. I am constitutionallyy more patient than you, and yet, with all. my efforts to be, resigned to what. couldn't be remedied and, to-bear my sorrow with fortitude, I fbund my- self disposed-to repine; and, because I was so sure of your affection,-to- " Cry tothe winds, oh. God I it might have been." A belief of my indifference steeled you against me-nerved you to endurance But, a knowl- edge of the truthswould have increased your acrimony of feeling: toward hitn whom you re- "ardedias the chief obstacle, and this, 'at all Lazgrds, I *wasresolved to -avoid. Russell, I knew that our relations could never be chang- ed 1 'that'the barriers, for whichneither you nor I are responsible in any degree, were in- surmountable; and. that,..in. this world;:e must walk widely-diverging paths" exchano- ing few words of sympathy. .Because .I real- ized so fully the necessity of estrangement, I should never have acquainted you with. my awn feelings, had .I not known that a long, and perhaps final,,.separation now stretches before.us. In the painful course which duty, imposed on me I have striven to, pronpote your ultimate happiness, rather than my own." "Irene, hQ)v can you, persuade yourself that it is your duty to obey an unjust and'tyranni- cal decree, which sacrifices the happiness of two to the unreasonable vindictiveness of one?" " Remenuber that you are speaking of my father, and do not make me regret that I have seen yopt in his house." "You must not expect of me more forbear- ance than'my nature is capable of. I' have lost too much through his'injustice to bear my injuries coolly. I was never a'meek man, and strife and trial have not sweetendtl my temper,. If you love me aindthe ;beliefis too precious to me to be questoied now, I hold it your' duty to me and to your. own' heart to give. yourself to me, to gild our future with the happiness of which-the past bas been cheated. Your father has no right to bind your life a sacrifice upon the, altar of his implacable hate; nor have you. a right to doom yourself and me to lifelong srrow. because of an ancient feud,' which neither of us had any agency in effect- ing;. " Duty because inflexible and involving great .pain is not therefore less imperative. SRussell, have you forgotten Chelonis ?" He tightened his claspinig arms, 'and'eo claifned: "~'Ab, Irene I I ould willingly go into exile, with you for-my Chelonis. Perish. am- bition !, live only.such ;a future. but you' re- member nothing. but Chelonis' filial obliga- tions, forgetting all she owed and all she nobly' gave, Cleombrptus. If you would lay your hands in mine and giveie, his right, - oh-! what a glory would crown 'the coming'years! Irene, before it is too late,.have mercyon us both." She lifted her head from his shoulder, and looked up pleadingly 'in his flushed, eager face, " Russell, do not urge me; it is useless. Spare me the pain of repeated refusals and be satisfied with what I have given you.. Believe that my heart is, and ever will be, yours .en- tirely, though. my hand you can never clain. I know what I owe my father, and I will pay to the last iota; and I know as well'what 1 owe myself, and, therefore, I shall live true-to my first and only love and die Irene Hunting done More than this you have no right to ask-I no right to grant. Be' patient, Rus- sell;, be generous." " Patient 1, patient ! I am but human." "Rise above the human; remember that, at best, life inshort, aud that after a little while eternity will stretch its holy cires before our feet. Such, 'is my hope. I look dwn' the lonely, silent vista of m.y coming years, whise niches are filled, not with joy, but quiet' resign nation--and I see beyond the calm shoes of Rest, where,. if faithfulthere, you and .I may clasp hands for everI! Tome this is no din, shadowy,.occasionalcomfort, but a fixed, firm, priceless trust." She felt :the deep, rapid throbbing of'his heart as he held her-to his bosom ;.anda dark cloud of sorrow settled on his features while, he listened to her low, sweet, steady voice. He kissed her twice, and said huskily,: " Do you' intend to send me from you ? To meet me henceforth as a stranger ?" "Circumstanges, which I' can- not control, make it necessary." ' At least you will let me hear from you sometimes? You will' give me the privilege- of writing to you 2" " Impossible, Russell; do not ask that of me. "Oh, Irene ! you are cruel!1.Why withhold that -melancholy comtbrt from me ?" "Simply Tor the reason that it-would un- voidably prove a source of painto both.-.1 judge you by myself. A correspmidence would keep your mind constantly harassed on a. subject which time will inevitably' soften, mellow.; and the expectation of letters'from you would:'induce a feverish excitement and impatience in my own heart, which 1 wishit ,escesped It would feed useless- regrets, nd ;e productive only. of harm. JI. want, neither your usefulness in. life nor, mine. impaired by continual weak. repining. 'fI ean Ptijaly bear a great sea of silende-betwebn.us'hence& 144 MACARIA.' page: -145[View Page -145] MACARIA. forth, you certainly should be stronger ; should appreciate my motives,, without suspecting any diminution of affection on my part. If your life' is spared I shall anxiously 'watch your career, rejoicing in all your honors and your noble use of the talents which God gave you for the benefit'of your race and'the advance- .ment of truth. . No matter how the world may deride, or cynics sheer at the supposition, I tell you solemnly absence has no power over a .true woman's heart. Her affection will triumph over separation, over . silence, over death ! over everything bt loss of confidence; over all but discovered unworthiness in its object. It can bid 'defiance to :obstacles, to adverse fate, so long as trust remains intact and respect is possible ; that you will ever for- feit either I entertain no fear." "'I am not as noble as you think me; my ambition is 'not 'as unselfish as you suppose. Under your influence, other aims and motives might possess me."' " You mistake your nature. Your intellect and temperament stamp you one of the few who receive little impression from extraneous influences ; and it is because of this stern, ob- stinate individuality of character that I hope an extended sphere of usefulness for you, if you survive this war. Our country will de-, mand your services, and I shall be proud and happy in the knowledge' that you are faithful- ly and conscientiously discharging the duties of a statesman." "Ah! but 'the wages are hollow. My am- bition has already been gratified to some ex- tent, and in the very' flush 'of triumph I sat down to eat its fruit, and smiled grimly over its dust and ashes." Because self-aggrandizement ,vas then the sole aim. But-a holier, a more disinterested,, unselfish ambition to serve only God, Truth, and' Country will insure a blessed conscious,' ness of well-spent years and consecrated tal- ents, comforting beyond all else that earth can give." He shookhis head sadly; placing his palm under her chin and tenderly raising the face in order to scan it fully. "Irene, oblige me in what may seem a trifle; unfasten your haii and 'let it fall around you as 1 have seen it once or twice in your life." She took out hei" comb, untied the ribbons, and, passing her fingers. through the bands, shook them down till they touched the floor. 4He passed his' hand caressingly over the glssy waves, and smiled proudly. "'How often havelonged to lay my fingers gon(these ripplingfolds'as they flashed around yop so, or wereitoediiiato arown about your head. With ilit a glory they invest you ! Tbur pictusieereupgn thewall seems liglated with the godenggeank' Irene, give mhe a hike- ness of youir sf as ,you stanidnow, or, if you *prefer it, ha~ve a' sme e one photgraphed to- morrow Prom that 2prtrast pand send it to' me 10" by express. I shall be detained in Richmond several days, and it will reach me safely. Do not, I beg of you, refuse me this. It is the only consolation I can have, and'God knows'it is little enough! Oh, Irene!I think of my loneliness and grant this last request." His large brilliant eyes were full of tears, the first she had ever seen dim their light ; and, moved by the grief which so transformed his lineaments, she answered hastily: " Of'course, if you desire it so earnestly, though it were much better that'you had' noth- ing to remind you of me." "Will you have it taken to-morrow ?" "Yes." She covered her face with her hands for some seconds, as if striving to overcome some impulse ; then, turning quickly' to him, she wound her arms about his neck and drew his face down to hers. " Oh, Russell! lEnissell ! I want your promise that you will so live and govern yourself that, if your soul is summoned from the battlefield, you can confront 'Eternity without a single apprehension. If you must yield up ydui- 'l'e for freedom, I want the: assurance that you have gone to your final home at peace vith God ;,that you wait there for me; and that, when my work is done, and I, too, lay my weary head to rest, we shall meet goid to soul and spend a blessed eternity together where strife and separation , are unknown. In the realization of your ambitious dreams, I lhnow that you have given noithought to these things; and it was chiefly my anxiety to impress upon you their importance,, their vital necessity, which induced me to send for you. Your hard, bitter heart must be softened ; youmist try to overcome your vindictiveness; to' cher- ish more ' parity and forgiveness toward'sme who have thwarted'you. Sometimes, itiwath- ing your gloomgstern face I have almost de- spaired that you would ever feel otherwise ; and many a night I have prayed fervently that you might be influenced to make some preparation '% or futurity. 'Oh, Russell I can be brave and strong and patient ; I can bear to see your dear face no more in this world; I can give you u to our country, and not murmur that'you died defending her ihberies -if I have the convition that, in'thiit noble death, you found the gate of heaves=that I shall meet you again when my God calls ime home. Think of this when yod leave me for the temptations of camp-life and go forth to scenes of strife and horror. Think of it Yby "day 'al ight, striving to subdue your heart in accordance with the precepts of Christ,; to 'xert a restraining, purifying influence over your command ; and remember, oh, ren ember, Russell ! that this'is th~e only hope I hjes to cheer me.' 'Will 'you'prgniise to read 'the bible' I give you pow-to .prgy constantly for- self? Will'youprois tne meeyoidhe grave ?" 145 4 f page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] 148 I~D ACAJUA.. 4 His black locks lay upon her forehead as he The suri had set, but waves of rich orange struggled for composure, and, after a' moment, light rolled through the window and broke he answered solemnly: .over the 'white figure kneeling there half- " I will try, my darling." veiled by curling hair. The clasped hands She put into his hand the bible, which she were uplifted and the colorless face was thrown had carefully marked, and which bore on the back in silent supplication. :He watched the blank leaf, in her handwriting : "Colonel Rus- wonderful loveliness of face and form till his sell Aubrey, with the life-long prayers of his pride was utterly melted ; and, sinking on his best friend." knees, he threw one arm around her 'waist, The shadow fled from her countenance, exclaiming: whigig grew radiant as some fleecy vapor sud- "Oh, Irene ! you have conquered! With denly smitten with a blaze of sunlight, and God's grace I will so spend -the residue of my clear and sweeter than chiming bells her voice life as to merit your love and the hope of re- rang through the room. union beyond'-the grave." " Thank God ! for that promise. I shall She laid her hand lightly on his bowed head lean my heart upon it, till the last pulsations as, he knelt beside her, and, 'in a voice that are stilled in my coffin. And now I will keep knew no faltering, breathed;, out' a fervent you no longer from your regiment. I know prayer, full of pathos and sublimein faith--. that you have many duties there to claim your invoking blessings upon him-life-long guar- time. Turn your face toward the window ; I dianship, and final salvation through Christ. 'want to look at it, to be able to keep its The petition ended, she rose, smiling through expression always before me." the mist that gathered over her eyes, and he She put up her waxen hand, brushed the said ., haIir from his pale, dome-like brow, and gazed " I came back to ask something which I feel earnestly at the noble features, whicheven the that you will not refuse' me. Electra will most fastidious could find no cause to carp at. probably soon come home, and she may be left "Of old, 'when Eurystheus threatened Ath- alone in 'the world. Will you sometimes go to ens, Macaria, inorder to save the city and the, see her, for my sake, aud give her your friend- land from invasion and subjugation, willingly ship ?"' devotee hersdlf a Ocrifice upon the altar of "I will, Russell, for her' sake, as well as for the gods. , Ab.tussell I that were an easy yours. She shall be the only sister I have ever task, in 'comparison with the offering I am known." called upon to make. I can not, like Macaria, She drew his hand to her lips, but he caught by selfimmolation, redeem my country ; from it away, and pressed a last kiss upon them. that reat privilege I am debarred; but Iyield "Good-by, nyown darling! ny life angel!" up more than she ever possessed.' I give my She heard his step across the hall; a moment allon earth--my father and yourself-to our after, the tramp of his horse, as he galloped beloved and suffering country. My God!1 down the avenue,,and she knew that the one accept' the sacrifice, and crown t e South a happy hour of her life had passed--that the' sovereign, independent nation! Gladly, un- rent sepulchre of Silence must be.resealed. shrinkingly, would I meet'a death so sublime ; Pressing her hands over her, desolate heart, but to survive the loss of those dearer far than she murmured sadly; : my life, to live and endure such desolation--- " Thy will, not mine, oh, Father I Give me oh! ny lot, atid that of thousands of mycoun- strength to do my work ; enable me to be trywomen, is infinitely more bitter than the faithful even to the bitter end." fate of Macaria 1" She smothered a moan, and 'her head sank' on his shoulder ; but lifting it instantly, with her fathomless affection beaming in her face, -A she added: CHAPTER XX. ' To 'the mercy and guidance of Almighty Strange heroic parallelisms'startle the grave, God Icommit you, dear Russell-trusting all reflecting student of history, and propound the things in His hands., May He shield you from inquiry: Is the Buckle theory of immutable suffering, strengthen yod in the hour of trial, cycles -correct? Is the throbbing, surging and reunite us eternally in His kingdom,.is, world o~f human emotions and -passions but a and ever shall be, my constant prayer. G'ood- mere arithmeticalproblem1 tobe solved through by, RussellI Do your duty nobly ; win death- tile erudition and aat ness of a Quetelet or less glory on the battle-field in defence of our Hassel, by an infallible'' statistical rule-of- sacred cause ; and remember that your laurels three? Has the reletless le essity of Comte will be very precious to my lonely heart." erected its :huge mill ol 't contineito lie folded her in 'his arms and' kissed. her grimly grind out the aimnual r~ility of patriot. repeatedly ; but, disengaging herself, she put ism, tyranny,.noble'self-~e aion,-or Mach- him gently aside; and, snatching up his hat, he javelisin, in the prescribheidinai-iable ratio of left the room. ' lHe reached his horse, then " Sociology ?"'-I Mitdatimes make men and paused, and returned to the parlor. -" women, 'through dire' Wecessity' of individual' E '9 MACARIA. or national salvation, or will it be urged that sublime records of the past fire the soul to. emulation and duplication of ancient heroism ? Davus sum non CEdipus. In 1781, when com- pelled to raise the Siege of Ninety-Six, it became very important that General Greene should communicate with Sumter. The inter- vening country was, however, so filled with British and Tories, and such dangers attended the mission, that no one could be found willing to undertake it. In this emergency, when .even our patriots of the first Revolution shrank back,: Emily Geiger, only eighteen years of age, volunteered to make the hazardous at- tempt, and received from General Greene a letter and verbal' messages which he was ex- tremely desirous should reach their destination. Mounting 'a swift horse, she performed a por- tion of the journey in safety ; but was ulti- mately arrested by two Tories, who suspected that she might be rendering important,.though clandestine, service to " the rebels." Swiftly and unobserved she swallowed the written ,despatch, and, baffled in their expectation off finding suspicious documents, they allowed her to proceed. Sumter'scamp was safely reached, the messages were delivered, General Greene's army was reinforced, and soon became'strong 'enough to assume the offensive. Rawdo:n was forced to retreat, and' Greene subsequently met and vanquished the British army at Eutaw Springs. Was not Emily Geiger's slender womanly hand instrumental in preparing for that battle, the results of which freed the Carolinas ? - - I In July, 1861, when the North, blinded by avarice and hate, rang with the;cry of "On to Richmond," our Confederate Army of the Potomac was divided between Manassas and Winchester, watching at both points the glit- tering coils of the Union boa-constrictor, which writhed in its efforts to crush the last sanctuary of freedom. The stringency evinced along the Federal lines prevented the transmission of despatches by the Secessionists of Mary- land, and for a time Generals Beauregard and Johnston were kept in ignorance of the move- ments: of the enemy. Patterson hung dark and lowering around Winchester, threatening daily descent; while the main column of the grand army under McDowell proceeded from Washington, confident in the .expectation of overwhelming the small army stationed at Manassas. The friends of liberty who were compelled to remain in the desecrated old capital appreciated the urgent necessity of ac- quainting .General Beauregard with the de- signs of McDowell and the arch-apostate, Scott ; but all channels of egress seemed seal- ed ; all roads leading across the Potomac were vigilantly guarded, to keep the great secret safely 5 and painful apprehensions 'were in- dulgeds for the fate of these Confederate army. But the Promethean spark of patriotic devo- tion 'burned irt'the hearts of Secession women; and, resolved to dare all things in h cause' so holy, ayoung lady of Washington, strong in' heroic faith, offered to encounter any perils, and pledged her life to give Gen. Beauregard the necessary information. -Carefully conceal- ing a letter in the twist of her luxuriant hair, which would escape detection even should she be searched, she disguised herself effectually, and, under the mask of a market-woman, drove a cart through Washington, across the Po- tomac, and deceived the guard by selling vege- tables and milk as she proceeded. Once beyond Federal lines, and in friendly neighborhood, it was but a few minutes work to "off ye lend- ings" and secure a horse and riding-habit. With' a courage and rapidity which must ever command the admiration of a brave people, she rode at hard gallop that burning July-after- noon to Fairfax Court-house, and telegraphed to Gen. Beauregard, then at Manassas Junc- tion, the intelligence she had risked so much to convey. Availing himself promptly of the facts, he flashed them along electric wires to Rich- mond and to General Johnston ; and thus, through womanly devotion, a timely junction of the two armies was effected ere McDowell's banners flouted the skies of Bull Run. Carthagenian women gave their black-locks to string their country's bows and furnish cord- age for its shipping; and the glossy tresses of an American woman veiled a few mystic ciphers more potent in GeneralBeauregard's hands than Talmudish Shemhamphorash. Her, mission accomplished, the dauntless courier turned her horse's head and, doubtless, with an exulting, thankful heart returned in triumph to Washington. When our national jewels are made up, will not a ,grateful and admiring country set her name between those of Beauregard and Johnston in the revolution- ary diadem, and let the three blaze through coming. ages,'baffling 'the mists of tirae-th Constellation of Manassas? ,The artillery duel of the 18th of July ended disastrously for the advance guard of the Federals-a temporary check was given. All 'things seeined in abeyance;,dun,' sal- phurous clouds of smoke lifted-themselves from the dewy copse that fringed Bull Run, floating slowly to the distant purple crests of the':Bhie Ridge, which gazed solemnly down tn the wooded Coliseum, where gladiatorial' Ihnats were soon to pour out their blood' injthe 'hid- eous orgies ,held by loathsomie Fanaticism- guarded by Federal bayonets and canopied by the Stars and Stripes. 'During the silent watches of Saturday' night " Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion creeping nigher, Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying k pure Sabbath morning kindled on the distant hill-tops, wearing heavenly credenti41s of rest and sanctity on its pearly forehead- credentials which 'the passions of mankind 1460 147 page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] 148 MACARIA. MACARIA 149$ could not pause to recognize ; and with:th golden 'glow of summer sunshine came th tramp of infantry, the, clatter of cavalry, th sullen growl of artillery. Major .'Huntingdoi had been temporarily assigned to a regimen of infantry after leaving Richmond, and wa posted on ,the right of General Beauregard' lines, commanding one of the lower fords Two miles higher up the stream, in a differen brigade, Colonel Aubrey's regiment guarde another of the numerous crossings. As th day advanced, and the continual roar of can non' toward Stone Bridge' and Sudley's For indicated that the demonstrations on McLean's Blackford's,. and Mitchell's fords were -mere feints to hold our right and centre, the trut i flashed on General Beauregard that the main column was hurled against Evans' little band on the extreme 'left. Hour 'after hour passed and the thunder deepened on the Warrenton road ; then the general learned, with uiutter- able chagrin, that his order for an advance on 'Centreville had miscarried, that a brilliant plan had been frustrated, and that: new com- binations and dispositions must now be resort- ed to.: The regiment to which Major- Hunt- ingdon was attached was ordered to the sup- port of the left wing, and reached the distant position in an almost incredibly' short time, while two regiments of the 'brigade to which Colonel Aubrey belonged were sent forward to the same point as a reserve. Like incarnations of Victory, beauregard and, Johnston swept to the front, where the conflict was most deadly; everywhere, at sight of them, our thin ranks dashed forward, and were mowed down by the fire of Rickett's and Griffin's batteries, which crowned the position they were so eager to regain. - At half-past two o'clock the awfulcontest.was at its height.; the rattle of musketry, the ceaseless whistle of rifle-balls, the deafening boomiof artillery, the hurtling hail of' shot,, and explosion of shell, dense volumes of smoke shrouding the com batants, and clouds of dust boiling up on; all sides, lent unutterable horror to a scene which, to cold, dispassionate observers, might have seemed sublime. As the vastly superior num- hers of the Federals forced ourstubbo'rn bands to. give back slowly, an order came from Gen- eral -,eauregardfor the right of his line, ex- eept the reserves, -to advance and recover the long and desperately-disputed plateau. With a:shoit, the shattered lines spriang- upon the foe and forced them temporarily back. Major IHuntingdon's horse was shpt .under him; he disengaged himself:and marched on foot, wav- ing hIs sword and uttering words of encour- a eme t. He,'had proceeded-but a few yards ea giape-shot entered his side, tearing its way' through his body, and he fell where the dead lay 'hekest.y Fox' a time the enemy re- tired,'but heavy reinforcements pressed in and they returned, 'reoceu ying the old ground. Not.. moment was to be lost ; General Beaureg e gard ordered forward his reserves for a second e effort, and, with magnificent effect, led the e charge in person. Then Russell Aubrey first n came actively upon the field. :At the word of t, command -he-dashed forward with his splendid s 'regiment, and, high above all, towered his s powerful form, with the long' black plume of' . his hat drifting upon the wind as he led his t admiring men. d As he pressed on, with thin nostril dilated e and. eyes that burned like those of a tiger seiz- - mg his prey, he'saw, just in his path, leaning d on his-elbow, covered with blood and smeared 'with dust, the crushed, writhing form of his bitterest enemy. His horse's hoofs were al- most upon him; he reined him 'back an in- stant and glared down at his old foe. It was I only for an instant; and as Major Huntingdon , looked on. the stalwart figure -and at the ad- vancing regiment, life-long hatred and jeal- ousy were 'forgotten--patriotism throttled all the past in her grasp-he feebly threw up his hand, cheered faintly, and, with his eyes on Russell's;, smiled grimly, saying with evident difficulty:. "Beat them back, Aubrey ! Give them the bayonet !" The shock-was awful-beggaring language. On,' on they swept, while ceaseless cheers mingled with 'the cannonade ; the ground was recovered, to be captured no more. The Fed- erals were driven. back across the turnpike, and now dark masses of reinforcements de- bouched on, the plain and, marched'toward our left. -Was it Grouchy or Blucher? Some ,moments: of painful: suspense ensued, while General, Beauregard strained his eyes to de- eipher the advancing banner. - Red and white and :blue, certainly ; but was it the ensign of Despotism or of Liberty? Nearer andnearer came the: rushing column; and lo! upon the breeze streamed, triumphant as the Labarum 'of Constantine, the'Stars and Bars.. Kirby Smith and Eliey-'-God be praised !, The day was won, and Victory nestled proudly among the folds of our new-born banner. One more charge along our whole 'line, and the hireling hordes of oppression fled, panic-stricken. Rus- sell had received a painful wound from a minie ball, which entered his shoulder and ranged-down toward the elbow, but. he main- tamed his position, and led his regiment a mile in the pursuit.. When it became evident that the retreat was a .complete rout, he resigned the command to Lieutenant-Colonel Black- well and rode back to the- battle-field. Hide- ous was the' spectaclepresented-dead and dying, friend and foe,.huddled in indiscrimi- nate ruinweltering inblood and shiveringtin the agonies of dissolution; blackened headless trunks and fragments of limbs-ghastly sights and sounds 'of woe, filling the scene ofeom at-. Such were the first 'fruits of the bigotry and fanaticallhate of New England, aided by the unprincipled -demagogisnm ofthe West; such I were the wages of Abolitionism, guided by Lincoln and Seward-the latter-day Sejanus; such the results of "higher-law," canting, pu. ritanical hypocrisy.1 Picking his way to avoid, trampling the dead, Russell saw Major Huntingdon at a littledistance,:trying to drag= himself toward a neighboring tree. The memory of his injuries crowded up-the memory of all that he had endured and lost through that man's preju- dice-the sorrow that might have been averted from his blind mother-and his vindictive spirit rebelled at the thought of rendering him aid. But as he paused, nd struggled against his better nature', Irene' holy face,-as he saw it last, lifted in prayer for him, rose, angel-like, above all that mass of death and horrors. The sufferer was Irene's father ; she was hundreds of miles away ; Russell set his lips firmly, and, riding up to the prostrate figure, dismounted. Exhausted by his efforts, Major Huntingdon had fallen, back in the- dust, and an expression of intolerable agony distorted his features as Russell stooped over him' and asked, in a voice meant to be gentle: "Can I do anything for you? Could you sit up if I placed you on my horse ?" The wounded man scowled as he recognized the voice and face, and turned his head par- tially away, muttering : "What brought you here ?" "There has never been any love between us, Major Huntingdon.; but we are fighting in the same-cause for the first time in our lives., You are badly wounded, and, as a. fellow- soldier, I should be glad to relieveyour suffer- ings if possible. Once more, for humanity's sake, I ask, 'can you ride my horse to the rear if I 'assist you to mount ?"- "No. But for God's sake give me some water !"' Russell knelt, raised the head, and unbuck- ling his, canteen, put it to his lips,'using his own wounded arm with some difficulty. Half of the contents was eagerly swallowed, and the remainder Russell poured=slowly on the gaping ghastly wound in his side. The proud man eyed him steadily till the last cool drop was exhausted, andsaid sullenly: - " Youowe me no kindness, Aubrey. I hate' you, and you know it. But you have heaped coals of fire on my head. You are more gen- erous than I thought you. Thank you, Au- brey ; lay me under that tree yonder and let me die." " I will try to find a surgeon. -Who belongs to your regiment ?" "ISomebody --whom-' I never saw till last week. I won't have hin hacking about me. Leave me in peace." 'a Do.you know anything of your servant ? I saw him as I came on the field." " Poor Williain i he followed me so closely that he was shot through .the head. He is I lying three hundred yards to the left,; yonder. Poor fellow ! he was faithful to the last." A tear dimmed the master's eagle, eye as he muttered, rather than 'spoke, these words. " Then I will find Dr. Arnold at once, and send him to you." It was noeasy matter, on that crowded, con- fused Aceldama, and the afternoon ,was well. nigh spent before Russell, faint and weary, descried. Dr Arnold busily using his instru- ments in a group -of wounded. hie rode up, and, having procured drink of)water' and refilled his canteen, approached the surgeon. " Doctor, where is' your horse? I want you ?'~ '" Ho, Cyrus!bring him up. What is the. matter, Aubrey? You are hurt." "Nothing serious, I think. , But Major, Huntingdon 'is 'desperately wounded-mor- tally, I am afraid. See what you can do for him." " You must be mistaken! I have asked re- peatedly for Leonard, and they told me he was in hot pursuit and unhurt. I hope to heaven you are mistaken !" "-Impossible ; I tell you I lifted him out of a pool of his own blood. Come ; I will show you the way." - At a hard gallop they crossed the interven- ing woods, and without- difficulty Russell found the spot where thq mangled form. lay still. He had swooned, with his face turned up to the sky, and the ghastliness of death had settled. on his strongly-marked, handsome features. " God pity Irene !" said the doctor, as he bent down and-examined the horrid wound, striving to press the red' lips together. ,The pain caused;'from handling him roused the brave spirit to consciousness, and, opening his eyes, he looked around wonderingly. "Well, Hiram ! it is allover with me, old fellow." "I hope not, Leonard ; can't you turn a lit= tIe, and let me feel for the ball ?" "It is of no use ; I am torn all ,to pieces. Take me out of this dirt, on the, fresh grass somewhere." " I must first extract the ball..' Aubrey, can you help me raise him a little ?" Administering some chloroform, he, soon succeeded in taking out the ball, and, with Russell's assistance, passed a ban age--round the body. " There is no chance for me, Hiram; I know that., I have'few.minutes to live. Sonie water." Russell put a cup to his white lips, and,-call- ing in the assistance of Cyrus, who had. fol- lowed his master, they carried him several yards farther, and made him comfortable, while orders were despatched for an ambulance. " It will come after my corpse.. i Hiram, see that I am sent 'home at once. I don't want page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] MACARIA. my bones mixed here with other people's; and late child!1 what an awful shock for;her ! She it will be some comfort to Irene to know;that- loves him with a devotion which I have rarely I 'am buried in sight of home. I could not seen equalled. God only knows how she will rest in a ditch here. ' I want to be laid in my bear it. If I were not so needed here I. would own vault. Will you see to it ?" go to her to-morrow.' "Yes.". "Perhaps you Can be spared." t Hiram,come nearer, where I can see you " No ; it would not be right to leave so much better. Break the news gently to Irene. Tell suffering behind." her ["did my duty; that will be her only coni- He turned to Cyrus and gave directions fort, and best.- Tell her I fell in the thickest about bringing the body into camp, to his own of the battle, with my face to Washington ; tent; and the two mounted and rode slowly that I died gloriously, as a Huntingdon and a back. soldier should. Tell her I sent her my bless- For some moments silence reigned; then ingmy love, and a last kiss." "-.. Dr. Arnold said suddenly: e paused, and tears glided over his wan "I am glad you were kind to him, Aubrey.. cheeks as the picture of his far-off home rose It will be'some consolation to that pure soul in temptingly before him.-; 'r W ,.who has mourned over and suffered "She i bravee child; she will bear it, for for his violent animosity. It was very gener- the sake of the cause Idied in.-' Take care of ous, Russell." her, Arnold ; tell Eric I leave her to his guar- " Save your commendation for a better oc- dianship. Harris has my will. My poor lonely casion.; I do not merit it now. . I had, and child-1 it is bitter to leave her. My Queen I have, as, little magnanimity as my old enemy, my golden-haired, beautiful Irene 1" - and, what I did was through no generous He raised his hand feebly, and covered his oblivion of the past." face. Glancing at him as these words were uttered " Don't let, it trouble you, Leonard., You gloomily, the doctor noticed his faint, wearied know how I love her ; I promise you I will appearance, and led the way to his temporary watch over her as long as I hve." . hospital. "I believe you. But if I could see her once " Come in ahd. let me see your arm. Your more, to ask her not to remember my harsh- sleeve is full of blood." ness--long ago. You must tell her-for me ; An examination discovered a. painful flesh she will understand. Oh!I '-". wound-the minie ball having glanced from A horrible convulsion seized him at this mo- the shoulder and passed out through the upper. ment, + and sointense was the agony that a part of the arm. In remo ving the coat to dress groan burst through his set teeth and he strug- the wound the doctor exclaimed: gled to rise. Russell knelt down and rested ",Hereis a bullet-hole in the breast, which the haughty head against his shoulder, wiping must have just missed your heart! .Was it a off the cold drops that beaded the pallid brow. spent-ball.?" After a little while, lifting his eyes to the faqe A peculiar smiled disclosed Russell's faultless bending over him, Major Huntingdon gazed teeth .an instant, but he merely took his coat, into the melancholy black eyes, and said alr laid it over his uninjured arm, and answered: most in a whisper:. - "'Don't trouble yourself about spent-balls-- "I little thought I should ever owe you finish your job. I must look after my wound- thanks. .Aubrey, forgive me all myhate; you ed." can afford to do so now. I am not a brute ; I As soon as the bandages were adjusted he know magnanimity when I see it. Perhaps I walked away, and took from the inside pocket. was wrong to visit Amy's sins on you; but I of the coat a heavy square morocco case con- could not forgive her. Aubrey, it was natural. taming Irene's ambrotype. ' When the coat that I should hate Amy's son."' ' was buttoned, as on that day, it rested over his Again the spasm shook his lacerated frame, heart; and during the second desperate charge and, twenty'miutes after, his fierce, relent- of General Beauregard's lines Russell felt a less split wasreleased from torture.; the proud, sudden thump, and, above all the roar of that ambitious, dauntless 'man was with his God. scene of carnage, heard the shivering of the Dr. Arnold closed the eyes with trembling glass which covered the likeness. The morocco fingers, and covered his 'face with his hands to was torn and indented, but the ball was turned hide the tears'that he could not repress. . aside harmless, and now, as he touched the "A braver man'never died for freedom. He spring, the fragments of glass fell at his feet. cheered me on, as my regiment charged over It was evident that his towering form had ren- the spot-where he lay," said Russell, looking dered him a conspicuous target; some accurate down at the stiffening form. , marksman had aimed at his heart, and the " He had his faults, like the rest of us, and ambrotype-case had preserved his- life.' He his wer-e stern ones;' but, for all that, I was looked at the uninjured, radiant face . till a attached to him. He had some princely traits. mist dimmed his eyes;.nobler aspirations, puirer I would rather take my place there beside him, aims possessed him,:and, bending his knees, he than have to break this to Irene. Poor deso- bowed his forehead on the case and reverently I I u 1ah. thanked God for his. deliverance. With a countenance pale from physical suffering, but bearping with triumphant joy for the Nation's first great victory, he went out among the dead and dying, striving.to relieve the wounded and .to find the members of his own . command. Passing from group to group, he heard a feeble, fluttering voice Pronounce his name, and saw one of his men sitting against a tree, mortally wounded by a fragment of shell. ",Well, Colonel;I followed that black feather of yours as long as I could. I am, glad I had one good chance- at the cowardly villains before I got hurt. We've thrashed them awfully, and I am willing to die now.", " I, hope you are not so badly hurt. Cheer up, Martin; I will bring a, doctor to dress your leg, and we will soon have you on crutches." "No, Colonel; the doctor has seen it, and says there is nothing to be done for me. I knew it before ; everybody feels when death strikes them. Dr. Arnold gave me something that has eased me of my pain, but -he can't save me. Colonel, they say my captain is killed ; and, as I may not see any of our com- pany boys, I wish you would write to my poor wife,, and tell her all about it. I have n't treated her as'well as I ought ; but a wife for- gives everything, and she will grieve for me, though I didact like a brute when I was drink- ing. She will be proud to know that I fought well for my country, and dieda faithful Con- federate soldier; and. so will my boy, my Philip, who wanted to come with me. Tell Margaret to send him to take my place just as soon as he is old enough. The boy will ,re- venge me ; he has a noble spirit.' And,, Colonel, be sure to tell her to tell Miss Irene that I kept my promise to her-that I have not touched a drop of liquor since the day she talked to me before I went out to build Mr. Huptingdon's gin-house. God bless her sweet, pure soul I I believe she saved me from a drunkard's grave, to fill that of a brave soldier. I know she will -never let my Mar- garet suffer, as long as she lives." "Is there anything else I can do for you, Martin ?" "Nothing else, unless I could get a blanket, or something, to put under my-head. I am getting very weak." "Leavens, pick: up one of those knapsacks scattered about, and bring a blanket. I prom- ise you, Martin, I will write to your wife ; and when I go home, if I outlive this war, I will see that she is taken care of. I am sorry to lose you, my brave fellow. You were one of the best sergeants in the regiment. But remem- ber that, you h ave helped to win 'a great battle, and your country will not forget her faithful sons who fell at Matnassas." " Good-by, Colonel; I sboul like to follow you to. Washington. You have been kind'-to us all, and I hope you wills be spared to ou~r MACARIA. regiment. God bless you, Colonel Aubreyj wherever you go." Russell changed him from his constrained posture to a more comfortable one, rested his head on a. knapsack and blanket, placed his own canteen beside him, and, with a long, hard gripe of hands, and faltering ",Godlbess you!"* the soldiers parted. The day of, horrors was shuddering to its close,; glazing eyes were turned for the last time to the sun which set in the fiery west,; the din and roar of the pursuit died away in the distance loweringno clouds draped the sky; the groans and wails of the wounded rose mournfully on the reeking air; and night and a drizzling rain eame down on the blanched corpses on the, torn, trampled, crimson plain of Manassas. "I hate the dreadful holov behind -the little wood. Its lips in the field above are dabbled with blood-red heath, The red-ribbed ledges drip with a silent horror.of blood, And Echo there, whatever is asked her, answers 'Death!" But all of'intolerable torture centred not there, awful as was the scene. Throughout the length and breadth of the Confederacy tele- graphic, despatches told that the battle was raging; and an army of women spent that lst upon their knees, in agonizing prayer 'for husbands and sons who wrestled for their birthright on the far-off field of blood. Gray- haired 'pastors and curly-headed children alike besought the God of Justice toblessthe Right,, to deliver our gallant. band-of patriots from the insolent hordes sent to destroy us; and to ,that vast trembling volume of prayer which ascended from early morning from the altars of the South God lent his ear, and answered, The people of W----- were subjected to painful suspense as hour after hour crept by, and a dense crowd collected in front of the telegraph-office, whence floated an ominous red flag. Andrew waited on horseback to carry to Irene the latest intelligence, and during. the entire afternoon she paced the colonnade, with her eyes fixed on the winding road. At- half-past five o'clock the solemn stillness of the sultry day was suddenly broken by a wild, prolonged shout from 'the town ; cheer after cheer was caught up by the hills, echoed among the purple valleys, and finally lost in the roar of the river. Andrew galloped up the avenue with an ettr , yet damp from the printing-press, containing the joyful tidings that McDowell's army. had been completely routed, and was being pursued toward Alex- andria, , Meagre was the account-our heroes, Bee and Bartow, had fallen. No other details. were given, but the premonition', "Heavy loss on our side," sent a thrill of horror to every' womanly heart, dreading to lesrn the price of victory. Irene's white. face flushed as ' she read the despatch, and, raising her 'hands, ex-. claimed: " Oh, thank God I thank God !" " Shall I go. back to .the office ?" " Yes; I shall certainly get a despatch from 11 page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 1W M ACAR'i Fatheriom'emnie to~iight. o badk, and wait 'She resumed her walk, ith'her eyes strain- f9r it. Tell Mr. Rogers, the operator, wht ed in the direction of the town. you' corae' i',.and'ask him 1 say please to let 'Thus passed three ir miserable hours ; yog have:it as soon as it arrives. And, Ari- then the clang of the iron gate at the foot of dre bring tme another news that niay come the avenue fell bi her aching ar; the tramp ~'' des' steh." -of hoc es' hdofsand roll of wheels came u idusl Tiineworu on the shadows on the the raviled wapk. lawn i a'dd' rrace ,refitlonger and thinner ; yt id' e trc eoges thi , "" Bad news! they are coniing to' break it the 'biras''deseul the hedges; the pigeons to me 1" said slue hoarsely, and, pressing her fobrso the colonnade lud-steps;Paragon, hands togethher, she leaned heavily against' tired if*alking'after Irene, fell asleep on the one of the guardian statues which had stood rug; hau the'jlow, drowsy tinkle of 'cow-bells so 'long' before'the door, like ancient Heimie' died awa among the lils. "at Athens.'-Was the image indeed president? Fairo t'the ea~st the blue was hidden by It tilted front its pedestal and fell with a crash',- gray thtulder s' niasses of' rain-cloud, now breal4pg nto" frag ents. The omen chilled' and tEihi vened by lightning; and as Irene her, and 'Abe stood 'still, with the light from watched their jagged, grotesque outlines they the hall-Iamp streaming over her. The caf-- took the form of battling .hosts. Cavalry riage stopped Judge Harris and his'wife came" swept pokri op'the flanks, u e fems heaved up the, steps, followed slowly by Andrew, along the centre; and the luridaurrows, plough- whose 'hat was slouched over his eyes. As dg thewhole from time tq time, seemed indeed they a preadhed, Irene put out her hands' deat' «dealig fla phesof artillery. She recalled wistfolly. the. ph ritom eond-battle in the Netherlandish 'W'e have won a glorious victory, Irend visioaYd 8liddered mvoluntarily as, n im- but 1any of our nobfe soldiers are wound-. agikation, she ed. I knew you would be anxious, and we ",heard the heavensfill with shQuting,,and thererained a came--" ShJistly dew"Is my father killed -'thesnations airy navies grappling in the central blue. ' my father w " qaaklly ' l '"Your father was wounded: He led ' a Q itlally the distant storm drifted southard, splendid charge." the repeat passed the horizon, a' redsunset ' Wounded! No! he is killed'! Andrew, din the weft; rose,and amber and orange tell me the truth-is Father dead ?" were quenched, and sober 'blue, with starry The faithful negro could no longer repress lig1 si was ever all.- Iow the serene regal his grief and sobbed convulsivelf, unable to beauty. of that sumnier night mocked the tu- reply, nmntuious throbbing, the wild joy, and great "Oh; my God! I knew it,! Iknew it !" she. ezultation 'of the national: heart ! Mother gasped.- Erth{ industriously weaves and hangs about e T gleaming arms were thrown up de the worI4 her radiant.lovely tapestries, pitiless spairingly, and a low, doary cry wailed dzirad'swailsan rnequieis,'deafto his prans. through the stately old mansion as the or- Iren iad earnest endeavored to 'commit her phan turned .her eyes upon Nellie' and An- father and ussell to .the merciful care and drewnthe devoted two wh- had pettedher prteon 'of .dbd, and to 'irstin faith, ban- from childhood. ierd pprehen ion, but;a Horrible presenti- Judge Harris led her into the librar-and mep ,hichwoula not" "4wn' thenbdding, hjs weeping wife endeavored to offer'onsola- kept hersgeqti-ung tyi their utmost tension: tion, but she stood rigid and tearfess, holding As the night advanced her face grew ha gatd out her hand-for the despatch. Finally they an4 the wan hps .iluttered ceaselessly; Ius- gave it to her, and'she' read : ie'hile rewarded as already dead to her in this T world, bu for her there r she wrestled des- CHARLES T. HARRS perately in spffit.Mrs. Campbel joined her "Huntingdor was desperately wounded at uttering hopefl, encoraing words, and :e- three o'clock to-day, in making a charge, ie li caine out, with a' cup 0'tea on a'waiter. died two hours ago. I was 'with him. The "Please drink your tea, just to please me, body leaves to-morrow for W... 9ueen. I can't bear to, look at you. In all' "HIRA- AIRNOLD." your life ,I never sew 'you worry so. 'D 'sit The paper fell' from her fingers; with a dry dowinand 'rest; you have walked fifty miles' sob .she turned from them and' threw herself sinc morning." onthe sofa, with her faceof woe to the' wall. " . ke it a~way, Nellie; ,J don't want it." So'passed the night. * 'B t, child,.it will be time enough to 'fret' * *- * ' whegi you know Mass Leonard is hurt. Don't 'Four days after, a number of 'Major lHunt- run 'to meet~ trouble ; it will face you soon ingdlon~efriends waited at the'depot to receive enough. If you won't take the tea, for' pity's the body. The train" had been detained; it sake let me get' you a glass of wine." .was: nine o'clock at night whien 'the cars ar- "No;. I, tell you I'can't swaldow~ anything. rived, and the' coffin was placed in a heade I( you want to help me,~ pray for'1?ther." ahd escorted to blie 'Hill. By' udge Harris' I MACAfTtAL 153 direction it was' carried into :thi parlor arid placed on the table draped for the' purpose'; and when arrangements had been'mad 'for the' funeral oni the morrow, he dismissed all but ai few who were to remain during the night. Irene sat at her window up stairs, looking out upon:the'sombre soughing pines' that rose, like a cloud' against the starty sky, while Grace' and.'Salome walked about' the room, crying spasmodically and tryingtoutter something' comfo-ting.;to the still figure,; which night have been of ivory or granite, 'for any visible' sign of animation. After a time, when the bustle had' 'ceased, when ohe carriages had withdrawn, and the hurried' tread of"many feet had subsided, ene iose and said. " Grace, tell your father I wish to' see him." Judge Harris' came protnptly.E "I am greatly obliged to you for all your, kindness. Please take the gentlemen into the. dining-roodior library, if you will'stay} ind-do not 'llew any of'them to return torthe'parlor ; I shall sit there to-night, and teed ,o ene.o " 'o" Oh; my child! impossible. IRwould net be proper. , You are not able." " I know 'what I am able to do and what I have resolved to do. Be good enough' tore- move those gentlemen at once." - Somnething ii her face startled him ; perhaps its frightful; tearless immobility, and he silent- ly complied: When all was quiet she crossed ihepassage,' entered the draped"room, and, looking' the door, was alone with her dead. Th ',coffin stood in the centre of the floor, and upon its lay the sword and plumed hat. She looked down on the lid where the naute' was inscribed. and kissed the characters; andhs all her iso- lation and orphanage rushed. upon her, she' laid her head on the table, calling' ournifully upon th'nanly sleeper for comfort' and for- giveness. 'When morning brokefully, Judge' Harris knocked softly at the door. '"o answer. He' rapped loudly, trying'the bold. All within was silent-as the grave. He' hurried round to the greenhouse, threw up 'the sash,,ptished- open' the door, and entered, ful"of' undefinable alarm.' The wax-candles'on the table 'and, mantle had just expired; the smoke from'eriet was still creeping,' thread-like,"to the eillng. A white form knelt' on thefloor, with'clasped .hands and bowed head, resting-against the coffin. "ofiIrene l Irene !" '." She did not stir. He-looped back the curtains toadmit the light, and, bending down, liftd 'the head. The face was chill and colorless as death, the' eyes were' closed, anid 'raslt-dera str~Ara"of blood oozed slowly over' the' lips ahd'dipged upon the linen shrouditig of' the 'table. ''he had fainted from the hemorrhage, and1 tking her in his ai-ms, he carrie#l her up 'to hbeor 9~ roomn. 2 :" -' CHAPTERI'XXL * I intend to trust you *ithimportant de' spatehes, Miss Grey.-for'I have greatdonfi' dence in female;ingehuity;as Well ' as fernale: heroism.' The 'meekest ':f 'you- 4onenvpare miniature Gran'veles; satur mad'eyo a 'ace! of schemers#,' Pardon, men' if I asksh'ow . yo ' propose toconceal the cspatches' ItEisri easy' inatter- now "toyr'un theyblookade of'a" Sa tthern port, especially on -the Gulf, arnd yun amusrguardagainlslbeing picked rip by the Philistines." "" I amhily aate'of all theriskiitendlhg mf'trip ' bt if 'owill'giio me the pater; prepared is I direeteadn m note from Paris x will pledge m'lif that'Athey shall reach, Richmond safely. If' Iam captured and c'ar" tried North, I'hate 'friends 'who will, assist} W it'proecuring passport t tkeSouth,=anTd flattle delay'ill oddur If' ''swesrhed"'I" date bid them defiance. 'Give ne the 'deepatelh es, and I"willshow you howI intend to takeo themd ]lectra opened her trunkg took out a latge ortfdlio,atd selected frdnithe drawings' one ini crayons rep'rOening the 'hekd9 of i Ihaelt Angelo's Fates. Sp'e dingitosit, faced'd*M' ward, on the table, she d thtolooly-rittett tissue paper, of -despateestuseoothly ior"he back of the thin pasteboard y then"fitted'a, square piece'(of Oil-silk' oihe" tissem'2misite, and haping,"with"is smallbrush, &oated;the silk with pasteeoveredctli'whole with apiece of:'thick drawifgpTape f the 'edgesfwhich were carefully 'gluedltd'tlrse ofheftbe' aste board. Tag hotiron fom the grats, ie passed it repeatedly'over the papr; till'all itas 'mtothaniddry" thenhitithe centre *rateg witha pudit " MichkleAngelo's Fdee tn tb6 Pitti Palace. "opodMay8th,i861/ a 'list of ifguress in apsall note-bookrshe;. itd thesdiineisiois of the pioturegand,.nndhe eth all, a ine firei tEuripides' ' " ' 'Her' eyes';'sparkled as she''befnt over 'er work,'-ardat"'leugth, liftirdgiit obr i ispeotild she exeliied triumphantly ;" There 'sir' ' can baffleeven the Paris de- neetive, much iess the' lynx-epd eaiseaties of Liicoin, Saiard, and Co. A eyd satiisle4" Examihe i1f with your own hands" " . " Perfectly' satisfied, my4 dstg1ldyu But suppose they Should sei et'yontit-utrknE Confiscationis the cry 'all over theNorth." " Finding t6'thiitg supieious{or c; on" band' about me, except ny Southern bint and sympathies, theywouldearely ck3'bs- ssion of the' necessary tools of my'profest'.' I have no fear; sir ; thegDaper is fated t soe its destination."'"' ' " "'Are yobroier'despatches sealednj ci- She laughed heartily... '"Of curse net. 'We Wori are the s ird to hazard all upoin'oue diet" ." page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 1W M&QARIA. "Well-well iYulee'that,we trust impor- " Master, from the way he watches, the tant data to your cunning fingers. You leave clouds, I believe he is about to run out. May- Loksdon to-morrow for Southampton.; will ar- be ,he canetake us ?" rive just in time for .the steamer. .Good-by, " Willis is invaluable to you, Mr. Mitchell," Mass Gey.. When I get .bask to the Confed- said Electra, as-the negro left the room.: eracy.I shall certainly find, you out.- I want "He is, indeed., He is eyes, ears, crutches, you t paint the portraits omfiny wife and ehil- everything to me, and never forgets anything dren. i rom the'enviablerputation youhave or anybody, ,;He has travelled over half the alreadysacquired, I am proud to claim you for. world with m could desert me, and be free my countrywoman. , God bless youians lead* at any moment he, felt inclined to do so-but yon, safel home,, Goadby, Mr. Mitchell,, is as faithful 'how as: the day on which I first Ike are of her, and let me hear;from you on left home with him." your arrival." "Ah, Captain !.this is an unexpected pleas- Aeomthe hour' when..tidings of the fall-of ure. I am heartily glad to see you. Miss hunter reached Europe, Electra had resolved Grey-Captain Wright. Take a seat." tJ~eut short the studies whichshe had pursned 'The captain looked about thirty, possibly sa vigorously since her removal to ,J Iorence, older ;z wore a gray suit and broad straw hat, and return, to the, South; But ,the ,tide; of and, when the latter was tossed on- the floor, tr~avelset toward, not from, European-shores, showed a'handsome, frank, beaming face, with ad it was not until aftertrepeated attempts to large, clear,, smiling blue eyes, whose stay find some ooehomeward-bound, that she learn- light nothing human could dim. His glossy ed of lric Mitchell's. presence in Paris, and reddish-brown hair was thrust back from a hi. intention -of soon returning to- W . forehead white and smooth as a woman's, but She wrote at once, requesting his permission themlowerportion of the face was effegtually toyp tceherself d rist. care. It was crdi- bronzed by exposure to the vicissitudes of ally accorded,; -sand, bidding adieu to Italy, she climate and weather; and Electra noticed a joined him without. delay, despite the plead- 'peculiar nervous restlessness of manner, as 'ngs of Mr, ,Mrs. Younng,and Louisa,; who had though he were habitually on the wat~h. . recently arrived at: Florence, and -sincerely - ". :am: astonished to see you in. Havana, iared atseparation under such painful cir- Mitchell... Where did you come from ?" ounmstances. "u st from Paris, where bad health drove. Erie was detained in Paris. by a severe me, after I bade you good-by at Smyrna. attack of- the old disease, but finally reached Whiat are you doing here ?" Iiondon-+whence,.having ,completed their as'n "I su ose you have heard of our great vic- , rangemients, they set off for Southampton, and tory at anassas ?" tokpa~ss e mn.the 'Trent, wIch was destined -" Yes, and .am rejoiced beyond all ex- subseinantly to play a prominent part in the: pression, 'but feel anxious to see a full list tangled rle .of Diplomacy, and to furnish the of ours loss. I had a brother-in-law in that en- most sut4/erly humiliating of, many chapters of gagement." the psidlariimiy, sycophancy, -and degradla- " His name ?" trn f the 1iFederal government. - . " Huntingdon - Major Huntingdon, of hel oyaggoyed pleasant and prosperous; W-, in - " and,.onee atHyavana, nric anxi gly -so '.ght " ;have sen io mention of his name in the an opportunity of tstig the vauted efficien- p s, butour loss inMofficers was very heavy. oy f he eloekade.' Un frtunately, two stenin- .We-can ill'afford to spare Bee, B~artow, and era had started the week previous one to New Fisher; and I want' the war carried on till eans, the other to Ch.aleston; only sailing we brn every 'public building in'Washington vessels were to be found, and aboutthe move-. and. raiseanmonument to our, dead on the site ments of! these' penetrable. mystery seemed of the Capitol. .We owe this debt, and we .wrapped. On ,he afternoon ofth e third day must pay it? afer' their. -arrival, liric, .wearied- with the "tHave yon, a vessel her, Captain ?" morning's fruitless inpuiryu was resting on the "Of course I have! Don't you suppose sofa at ther hotel, while lectra watched the that I would be in the army if I could not serve td e of passers-by,. when WIs, Br'ic's ser- my country better by carrying in arms and- vant, came i quickly and walked up to the ammunition ? I have already made two su- c'essf ul trips with my schooner-ran in, despite afMaster,'Captai Wright is here.. I asked the blockades. Iamnegotiatin for a steam- i tofcome and see you, and he is waiting er, but ntil- I can .get one ready I intend to 4wpa~r." -'' , sail on-" - "Captain Wright ?"elca tet - "When did you arrive here last ?" s -- es sli; th eqcaptainyowalikedso mucheat "bout ten days ago. aThey chased me fo Siryrna-the one who -gave you that pipe, nearly fifteeniiles, but I stole out of sight be- sir"' ' ore morning," o "O, ellremember I Yes---yes; and he- is "When do yen expect to leave here ?" - aere? Well, show him P." The captain darted a swift, searching glance at Electra, rose, and .closed, the door, saying with a light laugh.; "Take. care, man! -You are -not exactly, deer-hunting or crab-catching in, a free coun- try! ;Mind that- and talk softly- lam watched here; the Federal,,agents; all know me, and there are .several : Federal vessels i6 portr When do I expect to leave? Well, to-night,_ if the weather thickens up, as I 'think it will,; and there is evident sign of a storm.- Most sailors wait for -fair- weather ;- we blockade- runners for foul.". "'Oh,; Captain ! do take us *ith you !" said Electra, eagerly. . - 'AWhat! In a rickety schooner, in the teeth of a gale ? Besides, Miss, I am taking a cargo of powder this trip, and if Iam hard pressed I slall blow up vesseland all, rather than suf, fer it to fall intoYanikee.clutches. ' Youiwonld. not -relish going up to heaven after the:fashion, of -a rocket,-would you ?" , "I am willing,, sir, -to risk, everything you, threaten, rather than wait here i f\defiitely." " Can't you take us, Wright-Miss: Grey, Willis, and myself ? We are very impatient to get home." - " But I have no accommodations for passen- gers. I should be ashamed -to ask -Miss Grey aboard my little egg-shell-everything .isso- small and' comfortless. I have not-lost all- my politeness- and chivalry, if- I am a rough.'look-: ing ,Confederate sailor.- I assure you I have, every disposition to oblige you, but really it would not be rightito-subject a lady to such a trip as I may have before ine." " But, Captain, if, with all these .facts star- ing me in the face, I appeal to your chivalry,, and beg you-to allow me to undergo the hard- ships incident to the trip in preference to un- certain delay here. If -I prefer: to run' the gauntlet in.your schooner, you surely will not refuse me?" - , " Really, Miss, I don't know what to:say. -I thought I would frighten you out of the no- tion-for, to tell you the truth, I 'am always-so much more anxious when I have ladies',lives, in'my hands. .I, pledge you my word I,;would- sooner run -afoul. of a Federal frigate than see. you suffer for want of anything. I can't even set a table half the time.". "But I suppose, sir, we could contrive to live a few days without eating at a regular table. will take some cheese and crackers and fruit along, in a- basket, if that will ease your mind. Do waive your scruples, and con- sent to take charge of us." "I add my prayers to hers.'- Wright, do, take us. We shall not mind -privations or'in- convenience." . " Well, then,. understand distinctly that,'if anything happens, you are'not to blame me. If the ydung -lady gets sea-sick, or -freckled, -r sunburnt, or starved to death, or blown up, or drowned, or, worse than all, if the Yankee thieves by the way-side take her as a~prize,.it I will be no fault of mine whatever,;and I tell you .now I shall not:layit on;my conscience." "'Rawhead and bloody bones' never fiight- enedwme, even when I was a little child, sir;;so youi may reconcilIyourself ;to the prospect of having as.as cornpagnons 4e-voyage." -R Suppose a small- hand-to-hand fight forms a partof the programme ?". . 'Irtthate case, .1 have a splendid brace-of pstols,.which were given to me before I left Europe.". 'Do youtknow.how to handle them Y" " Moderately well. -I will-practice as we go along, by making-a target of one of your small ropes." ' f' I, see you are inorrigible; and I suppose I must let you go with me, bongri~ nalqri., "Boqr let it be, by =all means. am in- expressibly impatient to get home.". "Wright, to whatport are you bound ?" "Ab.l; that is more, than Ican tel you, Theawinds must decide;it.;.l ;.gan't trytAie} Carolinas again this trip; 'they arewatehinig' for me- tooclosely there. ONew rleanuis rather a- longer run- than:I care to make, and I -shall keep my.eyes on Apalachicola .and Moble,"a- ' ; -. S What object have you in starting to-night; partic larig in the fade of a gale ?" Again the captain's eye :sw1pt round sthe room, to guard against 'any.doors -that might{ 'be ajar. -.o .; ," As I told you before, I am, watched here. The Federals have a distinguished regard' for me, and I have to-elude suspicion, as well'asi run well, when i do get out. Two hoars' ago a ;Federal armed steamer,' which hast;been coaling here, weighed.-anchor, and has proba- bly left the harhor4 to cruise between this place and Key West. As they passed, one of the.crew yelled out to me- that they weuld wait outside and catch' me certainlyethis ip e:; that I.had made my last jaunt toJ ixieleIC. I have carefully put out the impessiogitthatI& need some repairs which-can notfbe finished this week; and have told one or' two, confi- dentiallythat I bould no. leave until 'ths'are rival of a certain cargo 'from. Nassau, whiehj due. to-morow. .'That puritanical eraft:*heh started off' at- nopn does dot expect :pxe;f t several days, d to-nght -sha rub fingers and -sail out tight in er wake.: Ha! ha ! how they will howl!- Whatgnashing ;of teeth there wil he when they hear of me in a Confederate, port! .'And nowabout:your, ag gage.: Have ,everything ready ; Iwillshow Willis the right whar, and at dark he al t bring the/trunks.down-; -will be on thsw'th, and send a boat ashore. -About,.saset,-y - and- Miss Greyf-can comeanboard, as if for mere visit.- I.mustgg and--sake what little - rparation I can for your corpifort." ting oeurred to frustrateghp plai; Ernc and Electra were- cordially receiA4 4aend at dgsr Williss and the bpggage arrlked-psaneW page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] MACAiA ally. 'The schooner wae lying sohe- distani from the wharf, all sailsdown, and-apparent ly cohtenplatimg no niovement, With ark ness- dame a brisk; stiffenin+* wind, and eldd shutting oit even ,di i:alight. At ,"te o'clock, all thing being'in readiness, the ap taint went ont deck ; very- soon- after tbe gliin nering lights of the city, then the f iniin walls of Moraowere left behind,'and' th " Dixie'.took 'her way silently .and swiftly seaward-. .T About =two, oclock,= being -.anableito sleep from the rocking of the:vessel' Eleetra, know itig that:Eric was still,,*on dedkrcrept up the steps in the darkness, for the lights had been extinguished. Th captam was passing, but paused, saying in a whisper " Is that you,Miss Grey ? Come this way, and I will show you'something."r I "easped her handled her to the bow, wliete Eric was 'sitting dn -a coil of Iope, and, pointing .etiraigltforward, added,, in the "same suppressed tone:.: "Lok right ahead- --you-see alight? The Philistines are upon us! -Iook well, and you will'seie a dark, irregular moving mass; that is, the steamer of which I told you. The have fouh 'out atiast that there is going:to ie all sorts of a.gale, and as they can't ride it like my snug;, dainty little egg-shell,-they are put- ting back with all possible speed. Twenty minutes ago they were bearing down on me ; nowyou see that they will pass to our left. What -a pity they don't know their neigh bors.!"- " Do you think that they will not see you ?" "UCertainly! Fwith- sails, down, and lights out, there irs thing to be seen' on such. a night as this. There ! don't you hear her paddles ?".. " No; I hear nothing' but the roar of the' wino and water-r "All that is because your- ears are' not trailed-like mine. -Great Neptune !, how she, lab6rsalready I NoW !. be silent."- On came the steamer, which 'Electra's un- ttained eyes; almost blinded - hy spray,,'could barely 'discern; and her heart beat like a niufied- drtin as it drew -hearer and -nearer: Oice she heard alow;ehuekling laugh of sat- isfabtioti' escape the captain ; thee, with start- ling distinctnes,, the ringing -of- a, bell- was borne from the steamer's'deck. : . " Pour bells--two o'clock. fHow chagrined they- will be to-morrow, 'when they find out' the passed me without paying-'their respectss" * speed the daptaii. Gradually-the vessel receded, the dark mass g 'indistincthe lightlflickeied, d was donoh last-to visw, and the tound of 'the labor. ing'hchnerfwas'drowned in the roar of the wavess' ~ "- "-Huralb ! for the 'tlxie -I Strike a light below, Hautchhson,-axd get somenglassgs. We ntut-hvalvitle champagne in honor of'this- e' performance-.O' tone down, Miss' Grey,:and ' you, too, Mitchell; the water is beginning to - break very near your feet. Oh ! but you must St take some wines Miss 'Grey.- I can't have you, n loking like a-ghst when I land-you-on Con- federate 'soil.' ople' will 'swear I starved - ydh; and nothing-humliates me half so much' as n imputation on my hospitality. Here's e tod:the Confederacy-I and, to 'our Beauregard T and Johnston ! God bless them both !" Elentra drank the wine; and, 'before he went back on deck, the -captain made a com.. fortable place- for heron the sofa 'in thelttle cabin. The storm increased until -it blew -a perfect hurricane,-and thechsooner rolled'and creaked, now and. then shivering in every timber., It wasutterly impossible to sleep;'and Eric,swho was sufferino frora-headache, pass- ed a miserable.night. in the white sickly dawn the' captain' looked, in again, and -Electra- thought that no ray of sunshine could-bemore radiant or cheering than his'joyous noble face. " Goodmorning. .I wonder if I look as' much like a drenched lily as you do, Miss Grey ? Doubtless, much more-like a drenched sunflower, you think. Were you alarmed all night ?"' . "-No, sir; -I 'knew that we were not in the hands of Palinurus." " Oh ! thank you for your confidence ! I will tellmy wifasof that, if I live to see 'her again.: I certainly 'did not fall overboard, which was'lucky-for, though I rather pride myself on' my proficiency as a swimmer, I am' very sceptical concerning the mythologic three days performance. Mitchell, I hope a good cup of hot coffee will set your head straight." "How is the storm? Any abatement ?" asked Eric.- " Not-a whit yet;. but the wind has veered a little, and I think that by twelve o'clock it will break away." "Captain, can I go on deck for a little while ?" ' " Whew! 'My dear young lady, you would- not be able to catch your breath again for a- half-hour." You could not stand a moment - 'spray nand, wind would blind you, and the waves would take- you overboard-wash you away." " ButsI want to see a genuine violent storm' at sea. I shall probably never have another opportunity." "I will answer for the genuineness of this specimen, if you really want to -look out. Wrap a shawl round your shoulders; give me your hand; step up; look for yourself. No counterfeit --take my- word for that. Squally enough, is n't it ?" A wild howling'waste of waters leaped and rolled- like -leaden mountains against a- wan drab sk3y, where -dun smoke-colored clouds trailed sullenly before the wind. Foam-crown- ed swells towered on either Side the schooner, leanedl oversas if to tieet and crush it,- and I broke in wreaths of spray; about the deck, while ghastly sheet-lightning glimmeredcease-, lessly. .- -"Old Father Neptune must be ina tearing; rage with his pretty Amphitrite, tochurn up, all this commotion. Don't you think ou have' seen enough, Miss Grey ? -You are getting wet." He saw her face flush and her eyes; sparkle strangely. "IfI could only.paint this sea,! If I-could only put that roll and sweep of,-waves yonder upon canvas! I could afford.' to die young. r-Oh! for the brush of Clarkson Stanfield for one hour ! to fix that sea-' where it, gathers itself into a huge billow, fronting theblast like, an angry brow, corrugated in' agony and rage.', My father was a sailor; and I think I must have inherited my love of the sea from him." - Where is he now-?"; "Dead-long ago-before I was born. lHis ' ship, the:" Electra," went down with, all on board." - M- And your mother?" " 'Named me -for the, wreck, and followed my father when I was four months old." As swirls -of spray dashed in-her face,- " Her eyes had looks nikd prisoner birds." S" Captain, I-have read somewhere of a Dutch painter who, in his passionate lgnging to por- tray accurately such scenes as this, had himself -lahed to the deck of a vessel during-a; terrific gale, where he could study and: note the pe- euliar aspects, so diflicult;tp, render correctly. I am tempted-to follow his- example. Doubt- le ,you could furnish a:rope for such a pur- pose." ' - a , . 4 "Not even a bit,.of, twige. ;Come down instantly, Miss ,Grey';, lean t afford the,-lux- ury of a -physician -on . board; sand if, you should be so unfortunateas t.catch a catarrh or spell of pneumonia; by this-piece of 'impru- deneo, I should be distressed to death, and frightened out' of. my -wits. ,;Come down at' once." About noon:the fury of the gale subsided, 4he sunlooked outthrough rifts in the scudding clouds,.and toward-nigh.t .fields-of. quiet blue' wcre once 'uwre visible., By next morning the; weather'had cleared up; with:a brisk westerly ;wind ; but the sea. still, rolled heavily; and Fxic, unable- to .bear the -motion, kept below, path to trust ;himself -,on 'hi, feet. 4dElectra 't eve to while way thse tedions time: by read- ing aloud to ,hii;.-ht many ayBrsing lok. .wascast toward,,thd4ech, an4 finally;she left inn W ith a, fe w: ooks, aid va upto he-open - On the- ahernpon of 4le third: day after. -Javyng:Having she-easysitting on- buffal- ,robe stretchesd-inearitligten, watching the .:Aggi-and gracf rcurlsqt'fam that marked ntbd sconrspteadfrgbe Aseason of the 5ftz meiie -if 'f derg:.Paiter" which lay;open a beside -her.-- Thelywind -had blown back other atraw--hat,:and her ;hetblaek hair 'fluttered about a face fullymeaposed :to view. The captain had been tuning a gritar-for -some inoments, and now drew::nearthrpwing himself down on the.buffalo-robe.- What, are you staring at o solemnly' Tell me what you are thinking fof "If you are. really curioftr,.you ar we-leame to know.: was only watching thcwake of the :vessel,-and thinking of that's beautiful simile ofColeridge in the-' Friend r OIman experience, .like -tl e stern-lights of +a ship at sea, iltuminessonly the path we have passed over.'"' -e- Her clear olive cheeks burned 'and her great shadowy elfish eyes ,indled, as was -their wont. when her feelings were deeply-stirred, "-I believe you are an artist, Miss. Grey?" ".1 am trying to become one,- sir. Before we leave you I want you, to examine ;some. of my sketches,.and,select the-one whib yowlike best. .It will afford me:greatpleasure4Wpaint it for youas a feeble token of my gratmitdaad appreciation of yourkindness- - ; - " Thank you. I hope theday ji.not-disthat -when I shall have my-wife, with me once more, and then I shall beg you to paint her portrait for me." y- , -- "Where isshe ?"., "At our home in Maryland." "Are you a Marylander, Captain." - - 1t'.0-h, yes LI-but that:is no plane ,for tru,:-men now. :Nothing, can.be accomplished ,there at this, juneture, and those who are true to the Constitutionand the $outhhavejoined the Con- federate;-service i4 oneform' anothere. We shall have to hang that infamous traitor'hicks, beforeswe can free;thestate; and it is because 1 :appreciate the -lamentable scarcity; of farms and ammunition that I. anenoaged May present-business ;If Iarm=ten t lursand sen; it .will: be better-. for our -glorious:cause than if I handled a musket myself. .Poor, doinuod. den, handcuffed, humiliated, Maryland I Miss Grey, you have probably notheard ourifavosite new song, ' Maryland, my Maryland ? seets- fort-myself-by singing-it-now and..thek4ii-e badreds of miles of stormy sea twsabetween maand my home. Would you liketo ,ear it, " a ; y y;"' ",y all,,means.-. In Europe II of;equme, heard nothing."-" , - - He struck a few full rich, chords andsang -the,- stirring words,;as enly' a.truqMapyl tder can who feels allpthr tirougsand; ignominypf his state. - - - - IHis--fine eyes:wete illofttears a3 enbe- gan the last prophetic verse; and ef it-wms concludedd, be spiranggup and r4peste4 rium-- pbantly.; -1 . - un a - "he breathisa 1hestdiale*t areeshd'lnnou - MaryMammy Mar rylaudl" ,.a - -, - - , ; - - ) 1 ' -, page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] -158lt MAATA. ' Ifench bethe feeling of her sons, Captain, 'has given to gild life with. There is grief.and she willMoon 'gird her beauteous limbs with, gloom enough at best; and so much innocent steel,' and- as a state Come out proudly from exquisite joy may be extracted from a thousand amid the Abomination of Desblation. The sources that}it seems philosophic, as well as a music i' peculiarly adapted to the burden of sacred luty, totreap the great harvest of hap- the noble thoughts, and invests them with-ex-, piness which calls to us from a proper appre- traordinarypower and pathos. The wonder- ciation ofBeauty. ,I do not mean learned -fintFeffect of national lyrics in such stormy disquisitions, or tedious, scientific terniinology. times as these exemplifies the truth of the ad A childcan admire, love an aster or a magno- mi4'able remark, "which I have seen"very lia,without understanding botany; may watch felicitously applied' to Bdranger, but which for and delight in such a sky as that, without was-first quoted, I believe, by Fletcher of Sal- classifying the--clouds or designating -the gor- touni ' If a, man were permitted to make all geous tints in genuine artistic phraseology ; the ballads, he need not care who should make may clap" its little hands, and, shout with joy, the laws of a nation.' Oh I what a sunset 1.I in looking at the stars, without knowing never saw anything from Fiesole comparable Orion front Ursa Major. I have often been to that" .- laughed 'at, and requested not to talk non- The sun had gone down below the water- sense, when I have. expressed these views ; line. , Frohi the zenith, eastward, the sky was have been sneered .at as an enthusiast; but violet-hued'; in the' west, light 'cloud-flakes the longer I live the more - earnest becomes had gathered in fleecy masses and semi-spiral my conviction of the truth of my opinion. whiffi ; ome-burned like dashes of vermilion- The usefaI, the material necessities. of life,' in lakes off beryl or chrysoprase ;'others,'in pur- require little study ; our comfort involves -at- pleporth ,.fringed their edges with gold; snowy tention to them ; but the more ideal sources of mountati ranges -were tipped with- fire, pil- -peace and- enjoyment demand eare and culti- lared cathedrals with domes of silver; and, vation. I am an orphan;-,I had no parental beneath all, glared- a,.liquid sea of rippling hand to guide-my thoughts and aspirations to flame., A sky which only Ruskin could de- the Beautiful, in all its protean phases; my life scribe 'or'"Turner paint.,, has not been spent in the most flowery paths; " The West is an altar where earth daily but because, as :a lonely child, I learned to gathers up her garlanded beauty in sacrificial derive pleasure from communion with Nature ,offering to God. Agamemnon-like, she gives and Aft, 1I have seasons of rapturous enjoy- her loveliest.'' meant which all California-could not purchase. These words seemed to pass the girl's lips un- The useful,.the practical,and the beautiful are consciously' as she leaned forward with hands not opposed'-are even united-ifpeopleWould classed on her lap ; and smiling at the breath- only'open their eyes to the truth. I anu Aio less eagerness of .her face, and, the to him morbid sentimentalist or dreaming enthusiast ; incomprehensible enthusiasm -she evinced, the if nature intended me for such, a cold, matter- captain said: of-fact world has cheated me out of my birth- ; 4 If you are so very fond of such things, I right. . I live, sustain myself by my art, as you wish you could- see -a midnight sky in -the by your sailor's-craft; it feeds and clothes my tropics as I have, seen it,- sailing between Rio body as well as my mind. , But I can't -bear Janeiro and Baltimore. I believe 'I 'have not to walk through a-grand metropolitan cathe- mueh sentiment in, my nature, but 'many'a dral of wonderful and varied loveliness;and -night, I' have lain awake on deck looking up see the endless .caravan of men and women at the 'stars that glowed, burned -I hardly traihping along' its glorious aisles, looking know bow to express it-like great diamonds neither to right nor left, oblivious of surround- -clustered on black velvet. There are splendid =ing splendors gazing stolidly down at the bag constellations there, which you have -never ofd coins in their hands, or the bales of cotton seen. 'When-we win independence and- peace or hogsheadsof 'stgar or tobacao they are roll- I1ntend to. have a fine steamship of myown, 'ing before them. I long to lay my hand on and , then I shall ask you to make a voyage their shoulders, 'to stay their hurrying steps, with one -as far as Uruguay. ,[ will s hol you and' whisper gently: 'Fellow-pilgrims, broth- scenery in Brazil that will put you on your ors, sisters, look up- at the glories that canopy knees in adoratioti? . you. Bend your knees ,one 'instant 'before -1' Ishall accept the invitation when peace is yonder shriries of Beauty.' Oh !d" stheticst is _made. Captain Wright, have you any chil, heavenly ladder, where, like Jacob's angels, dren ?" - -pure thoughts and holf -aspirations comie from "Yebetwo;a son and daughter; the eldest and go to God. Whatever - tends to elenute -five y ears old." - and ennoble tlye- soul is surely usefullyl and 'iTerntrain them -up to love sunsets;/stars, 1ove. of beauty'ils a-niighty educational engine, flowers, clouds of all kinds. We are creatures whichh all miay' handle if they will. -Captain, ofeducation and I hold it the imperative-duty soW the seeds ofe&ppreCiatiOn early' inyour -of arents to teach their children to appreciate children's heai-ts/ addthbf -will -thank ydu -th beautiful things in this world which -God whedlyou are an old biiveriaired man." M1Ae A ,'-19 Across that rosy sea tripped magic memey ries. The 'sailor's -heart found its distant ha-' venV in h'e' joyful, tender welcome of his blue- eyed wife-the lisping, birdish tone- of his fair- browed, curly-headed children, stretching their little dimpled arms to clasp his neck; and to the artist-woman came melancholy -thoughts of by-gone years,- shrouded in crumbling gar-, lands-of hopes and feverish aspirations that had fbund their graves-of her future cheer- less life, her lonely destiny. .For some time both were silent ;then-the captain roused himself from his dream of home, and, passing his hand over his eyes,- said : - ""Well, Miss Grey, I shall place you on Con- federate soil to-morrow, God willing.", ",Then you are going to Mobile ?" "Yes I shall try hard to get in there early in the morning. You will know your fate be- fore many hours." ' "Do you regard this trial as particularly hazardous ?" " Of course ; the blockading squadrons grow more efficient and expert every day, and some' danger necessarily attends every trial. Mo- bile ought to be pretty well guarded by this time." The. wind was favorable, and the schooner ploughed its way swiftly through the autumn night. The captain did not close his eyes; and just about daylight Electra and Eric, aroused by a sudden running to- and fro, rose, and simultaneously made their appearanceon deck. " What is the matter, Wright ?" r" Matter I why, look ahead, my dear fellow,, and See where we are. Yonder is Sand isl- and light house, and a little to the right is -Fort Morgan. But the fleet to the -left is hardly six miles off, and it will be a tight race -if I get in." ; There was but a glimmering light rimming the -East, where two or three stars burned with indescribable brilliance and -beauty, and in the gray haze anA wreaths of.: mist- which curled up over the white-capped Waves Elec- tra could distinguish nothing. 'The air was chill, and she said with a slight shiver; " I can't see any light-house. - " There is, of course, no light there, these war-times, but you see-, that tall white tower, don't you ? - There, look through my glass., That low dark object yonder is the outline of the fort; you will-see it -mare ' distinctly after a little. Now, look -right where ry finger points; that is the flag-staff.- Look up over head=li have' lloisted our flag, and- pretty soon it will be a -target-fot 'those dogs. ' Hal Mitohell- Hutchinson I 'they.sese'us I There is some o mna *tno eg them They are setting -read$ to- cuts off this'side of the bwksh ofauneN We shalsee.' ' -- - -ed had -crowded on ai'vailg and 'the little vessel dashd though the light fag asif- con- scio*r f her dager, and resolved tosuastarn herself gallantly; Day broke -fullyi :sea and sky took the rich orange tint which only au- tumnin ornings giver and-in-this glow- a Feder- al frigate- and sloop slipped frong, tbeii. modr- ings and bore down -threateningly on the graceful bounding schooner. -"But for the fog, which 'puzledme about three o'clock, I should have run by unseen, -and they would' never have known 'it -till[ was safe in Navy cove. We will beat:them, though, as it is, by about twenty --mnutes. An hour ago I was afraid I should have to beach her. Are you- getting frightened, Miss Grey f" " Oh, no' I I would not have missed this for any consideration. 'How rapidly-the Federal vessels move. Theyaire gainig on us.T Her curling hair, damp with mist, clustered around . her -forehead;' she', had- wappeda scarlet crape shawl about 'her 'shoulders, 'and stood, with her .red ,lips apart 'and trembling, watching the exciting rain. - Look'at the-frigate I". - ' ,There -was a flash- at -her bow, .a curl ,of white smoke- rolled up, then a heavy'}-oar, and" a thirty-two pounder round shot fell about- a- 'hundred yards to the right of the vessel. A yell of defiance rent the air' from the ereW of the'ixie --hats were waved-and, snatching off 'her shawl,' Electra shook its bright folds to the stiffening breeze, while her hot- eheerls-matched thein iidepth of color.. Anothetrand'another shot who fired inqiiek succession, and so-accurate,-had they become that the' Iest-whizzed throughthe rigging, cut- ting one of the small topes. ,-f ";Huinph I they are getting saucy" said the captain, looking up coolly, when the yells--of his crew leased for 'a -moment-and; With a humorous-twinkle=nhis fine eyes, he 'added, , " Better go below, Miss Grey ; theym.ght clip one of'your Curls nekt time., The an- dais 'see- you dare say, and your-red flag . 'stins their' Ya*ke pride' a little' '- - . '4 Do you suppose'they can distingnish-mo ?" - "Certainly 'Through ,.y -glass,.1 'eu'see the gunners'ate work;"and, of course 'the ee you.- hould not be-surpmided if they ainid 4pecially-at you' That is the' style -d New. EFgland bhialry ---- -- Whiz = ii both lodp and frigate were firifig'uo tn'Wgoodearnest, and"one -shellex- ploded'a'fewyards fromthe side-of thlittle - vresselitosshi ' the foamahd water- over,,the group op;d .et ._. - - - ' - -- - '.: 3 :' -" Theyithikdyouhige"hardly washed -yoir ,face yet,'. Miss G-ey;-and are courteouly -4nxious' to periornc th .goperationfor , . But' bhe'gamaisn.- -Luugyonder- utx - for -DiiO I and Fort Mbrggtn -" - The- boomedof a dludmdadT -e~l fr shibkythe airh'iks th1ideisy ndth e 4' page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] blockaders'the unmistakable assaratice, ",Thus farpdn4 no farther." Tea schobner .strained on itssway ; a few shots fell be ind, andisoon, under the frowning basdqns if .the fort; whence the Confederate, banner floated so proudly onthe.balmy Gulf *breeze;:sproadingitsfree .folds. like aniegis, Ahe gallant little vessel passed1.np the channel 'an c ame: to. anchor in Mobile. bay, amid, the shouts of ere ,and garrison,and.welcomed by a salute of five-guas.- CHAPTER XXII. Immediately , after her arrival in, Mobile, Electra prepared to fo ward'her despatches by, ,Cptain Wright, whoe0'business called him to' Rich iond before his return to Cuba and an examination of the proved' that the expedi- ,ent; resorted:to wis perfectlysuc'essfu. ,3y moistening the edges .of thn drayring-paper,: the tissue missive was drawnypoi uninjured, and ,. to, ,r4's surprise, she removedd rthe, .carefully-stitched bluesilk whichlined the tops of her. trayeiiing, gauntlets and, extracted similar despatehes, allf,9 wkhie:were at once' transmitted to the seat of . government. :While waiting 4r a ppat,they heard;the pain- ful- tidings of 1ajpr I{ustingdoa's 4e h, Whih inc'eamd, ]rig's ;impatiencesto=reach . 'the rem inder .of,the journey was sad,iand four-days after leaving ;he)Qlf Q iy ithsf ighits qf nd gudaricof'the Pails .simultaneopsly greeted ..the ,spt ,travellers.; ayigg telegraphed of .his;safe ,arrival,, the carriage was waiting, at, the depot, and An- Arew ,handed, to Electra a notsfrom his mistress, requesting hertocozmeat oneito her :house instead of going to the tel. :]ric ad- dad.'arnest persusiogga wt r44mp ,or ejc- taee,4he:artist finally ccngeted. (hey were. prepa'd for. the4ilntasoJera ,aspeetr of the haugie.and for ,the mourning-dess ,of, the orphan; but not forte ,pro findgealm, the 'nelane9o!y, $eNIeps composure withwhichshe rege ed thep. !.rentakla p hygela1 sufering had dly changed her.., ,he, ?,y face as ;t1h4py?,nd lher 'rmhdalJstitarundaess, . dt ta epunenanqe tigine4 singular love- liness and'the mesmeric sple ote:gne eyes seme enha o4. pftherf4therIg# did ,tpegipak,'but gay er, unclea rsndte- pelit pf ali the itswhich -;he had }qepi ge to g pgr, er nipg the, c gimatagep of his death,; and .thus a tacit, compete was formed stqraken so efeyn#9r$9ethe u4 fu subject. v ashe agoompppie& le t ~to the rqppo .lprep edd iQr, on ge tightgf hen.rriyal .Lashbttensked.witA l.ll.Oeqa 4.emionon "irene, can sypu tekl .mei pgtheggahout Rumgell? I am very anxious to hear~ some- I he iglgeM.isipr IamnId h ,table, "He *as wounded in the arm at Manassas, but r tainsieommand 'of.his regiment and is doing very well.. Dr. Arnold is the regimen- tal surgeon,-and in one ,of his letters to ie he mentioned{ that your cousin's wound was-not serious., " { . "I amgging to him immediately." "Unfortunately, you will not.be allowed to do so. T; wounded were removed to.Rich- mond as pgamptly as possible, but, your cousin remained at Manassas, whereladies are not permitted." "Then I will write to him to meet me in Richmond." Irenemade no reply, and,-watching her all the whilg, Electra asked: "When did you see him last ? How did he look?" "Theday before he started to Richmond. He was very well, .1 believe;, butlooked ,harassed and. paler than usual. He is so ro- bust, however, that I think you need entertain no apprehension concerning hi, health." The infietible features, tho low,, clear, firm voice _were puzzling, and' Electra's ,brow thickened and darkened " she thought: "Her father is dead now ; there is no obsta- cle remaining. Al e must loye him,, and yet abe gives no signof interest." ".Good-uight, Electra; I hope ygur will sleep well after ypur fatiguing journey. Do not get up early. .Iwill send your. breakfast to your room wbenver you wish it." 1 She'turned away, but the artist steppedle- fore her and,{eaught up both her hands. Qh,.heg eI, it grieves:Me to see youlook- ing so.r. Talk to me about your great pent-up sorrows and it will.relieve you." " My -sorrows can not ,be talked, away. Graves never giveS. back their dead. Good- night, my dear Electra." - ' t. . Electra.looked at. her sadly, wistfully;, and, suddenly throwing her arms about the queen- ly figure, kissedher white cold cheek. ,I'ene returned the caress, withdrew from:the -em- brace, and passed to herown room. .Jedouswomen;are rarely generous toward their rivals,.and Electra's exacting, moody character renderedit peculiarly ificult for .her to, stifle :her, feelings.. 'She Iwould most certainly have cordially hated ay pthe, wor- ~an who-stop4 between her and ler icoqain's ,heart ; but.beforethe nobility,, the;loftiness, .the, ebgl p'dy f Irene's 9sul, her own rest- less spirit bowed 4own -wtjh emotions nearly akin sto adprato. The gglermaserenity,'of- that ,palesbrewawet andt sopthed thef'ever d, t nultuggs at.uret;pfF tha List ,agd shebad schoaled ,lerself doloo;yupqn her as aRssell's future .ife-nwith'a.pang a painiis -true, but oertainlyawahtb no t9 chotabi ress.eShe could endure,thathJeakpnid' ole;se4atedly 4a witp wjniste.,d stahe shde,ofnChtjtian charityjgag4 shns r~oa hr aMer~se inved,theblessetla gesssfpgpe, INa fi M4JABIL r f o '6 t f r page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] I I . MAO rnA a1s C'1 arl ~ot Avoid feeling scetic l oel' he te Nbewirs wo, p~~a4reiae public virtue,. when seasons ,off .prbape ity atid the respoitsbility~f P hei~ap s tioin is) e l' t w Ith 'suteed the iy ar ,of -trial";and; Estln ly :r blenf %t, wr~~ s'& F ji a i ' he$hoo ope' of' our" young f'ulidea, which seems t jibe g tino un -b tiederaoy. I habve ' fn queutl3 .rec-lled'that, an'fa v 013nt oar cti };rl vae 1Utii au4 Fall of I ep ip :_:. Greece, once adrastin kbr ,sarrie belles dt ' le the " t }f ~ a dseien es, th~ frithtf ul beauk are, ntb har lesi, "nor se d 4 e mbther bf philosophers ,law g ive s, an4 herote, toldra edin r all.goodso/iy Woaewbi ~no r lies''rostr atetui~der the= iion, yoke ofigno- sO far :for ge tnf;.tsl.ea ao nthelr o 4W, ". ane and barbarism .Carthgr;u".d ndte"p t4n p "i pi1 !; "b th,, tigltu soverel naof the ocean, and ion,?as tor' th.cntre fo'urive 1.., om)Uere e, which 'niad Vhrl hi .sa-called fas ionaf .r' gn~ poured the rhehes of all' nations into Sher lad,. i rs usto4 obliF i n h ~o d .! ,dI iapt noiw puzzles the Tquisitiiv traveller in'iis re) #f*oim wetl*b0r+ ;'iintd;, Qre1e Ide the searches ater even the vestiges of Iiernroine " degi'adatOn s atte afrs 'thyh /Q .Aend'fme, the mztres 6f tire grac iTh w Ivs sidald odnxtt u n y ~universe, which tiie "contained whatv ws }'o rvasu~ rae~~dwed~i~ esteemed'gread~. or'brillianf in humani nattfr ely' a fasa gt .' s i"e, l r4 'o ew iiowsunh'jnto the'igiiol e, seat &whate~& r acre dixd ty t.bu 1 leaut enshbuldbr re A eiteened mean ,an ids n3 "oCs. : $4: r ., tl Should F action gain predonminatei and rsutd' husband's heart's more closl t~jtbl 'ceetl in' its destruccstviews;Ind';th'e ~da tard- homes at' active, instead, of 'beirgcdn0ostantlt ly maimnS of luxury anid $fl~I~inacy'un v t11-;paraded b'her lhe orld' f ,%ii1r o ut- lY prevail ainrongst ; " , f ' kY ,"'Il ';suth, too, ose o' seeurie nthee te0 a~ t will b ithe Late of Brita n ;? ind;I rma add=,f ofetothe;r ntlomen . d os~ et the Oontedrsey-for'i hereare the sateguard m riwenelI9 coy of It public pur ity?': ' " "_ ib Iithat society h' p r ,t ,iym~is u zp } ie tea had fished the I~anodas and alwas them; hth hude~ mt~e ; igsu~b~r'h hdw~And,, waths ully . , rh l a r b i. 4 out locigup ti'om the lii t,' wbieh''L hbwas t .ioi, e4 i @jvv )whoe9+ s wa44i, tigitoniipdcvg s1~awrd terhsanrds when they, ca: oic 4 ~" he afeu'a~ls~il befoud 1 th oh are never happy unless riding or, walks~i ~rs Woi s ?and sister'a'of Our land: '? _ '.' st r eror reueiyin t ebeir' atteti a rth * "b but .their hand (are tird, and they'- 6641' ct,, P44' walk -but a& short, narrow path; frein ieit th- nation which' hey 'are raduaill- deaorniza stn thsod'anybc gi1 hand corrupting. o utb e ' tr)~e hanL i .ee3'P ireliuiiato'exnra re tfewvdeluded' weak libelsion ou~r 'ao m straining influence, but no- power to htili e t. prhse rvrn ur"age a a1 cbun lr rThey neti zes 1 l lost thart hag th faked l e4 y' o Rfagnadik 'is , darkernin4#.over thxsie entiiinta. oudly fibevc 3 tioc "th r t , +y rphemnonster, Midad aSeitn4eni'is, .and ne 1ark "tri ed h er 4Q all, have certainly been unloosed"l' at 'the ohair,,and Y s hn ruxi ~)ie , thE~ ( y 2 "' ' "=1 '' 4! " $, f' 1, e 'tlm". t ~ d ', 5p,' 4 ' " {! "Electra, though iwe' are veyproperly da-o- ars hende,:sht 1, r(4 llhijaot r " ni6 baitfedi }from' the"' tme ' : ic dv IIh ve ,Afilre tad1s' t r y) *confidence that .thea use of ow co untryxirisy Truth- -theugb tinrd&lyr Avtea foit be ad'ran ed, and its oo4 ' urtoted;%'hritih electi n' fa {l aw ty / llke t F ,; th gsy, n3tt its d ulser" ftb out ot,{ t e atuxtsw, Wh atie h~ riem ; cl i din i t ' ic=pa t om0 4e' oids ;alp= ncuis' Oltthis; holy'heart nh "rY,, +( .- Y" 'ld a " 'a Y stop,.-isar + _-T,.", r e c9$NiteU- *meat. Have you forgotten tt =xwleeh Spahrtatip, de I,;sand {a ti4 ttj to ook ske stern aindl'stxbluzce smlph c~dy of :her bhi a a, o ,dare t4 of eua r oE illsxwe anci i manners' ,I iid . A&isfouut hi nself'aui 4ini l jurit '' .. f ; tf { ,' ably tX co ish'i hlwechene, ot redeenig "AMit perfectly tu a u hrg htrt ountry} t roum avariee' a } aor- ih' cataba e. r c"ve ruiptnio;ii iltfie atl~s of Sparta gave their'd o ups ~tdw.4o4 Southern sWomninhave ued sire t itusu p leg. a yfrr 4 , t page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] Arito&We want no;feeble,.sickly sentimentali- tdr yet thewombra austerity which-seems to -pervydb yourxmind,'jtidging..fron the works youi.have shown toeal' ' ' I ' A slight quiver crossed- themobile features 'ofthetartist as she bit her full lip:andiasked: adiWhat :would you 'pronounce, the, distin- ghishing characteristicc ohfmy works? I saw, vesterday, thatyouawerenots fullysatisfied."' "A morbid1melancholy,-which yon/seem to have fcsteredi teriderlysrinstead =of.inushing . g rusly.p di ositiow'to dwell upon the -stern; and "aoo aspects of the 'physical 'world, and 4o intensifyiand;'reproduces abnor- mal an unh'app !tphasesof character. Your breesy4tdunshiny j yyous'moodsyou have. lept' under'ldok andkey while inyouestUdio." "'You -are right; pbut4 I.mnerely dipped .my nralbianIthecolors'qf my.town life; andif d-my wrk'iSigray iand sad and shadowy,:it is no: fault f man,. One who sits at her easel, listening ever to' Iwfow t aps ef eachs corning in P O lwso a o n o a h c m n 1 , h o u ld b e p tr d d tie d i ';h e r c a n v a s ,g lo w s tno t 'ith. g a' oecaions 'adradiant' fuces that have never looked beyond the glittering con- 'Ones f Aladdin's .palace. ,Iemember,-the '.lineS did'not all to me' 'minpleasant places; and it i 6 hst trane that I sometimes paint desert, barenseesies, without grapes o(Eshcol orT r r d nr n a ts ;Worn iW~eldfgrass and sunshine--long eaiin'nfghte' roml~which 'the bllkehsleepis werefrbtied out-'. Bwitness for iae, with no amateur's nrreve eut asst ancif usp lIleness 1'ye set unself'tb dit s' ', ",nt' '' I admit the wrgthoof, 'our criticism,'and have gtagled!againstthe'spirit whichhovers 'with '41olng wgsi overall thateJdo; but the shadow hasidotlifted-God' ,no*s wheth-. 4 it ver wjlli 'Do yodirecollect,among those Laneillustrations of +dee;Rorks wich weiexr tam inedyesterday, the 'dia spectral, head and' ,bl p'nlons brooding ,qpuanfgdly ,over .The City Ithe Sea ,'A lAs darkening cout- 'terg fits oversne. ''owhave finished'your ""orkgome toimyrooni forea fewuminutes.". T went up stairs together;'.and as.Elec- at anoeked nd bent ever a large square eruak ier companion noticed a peculiar curl about . the lines of the mouth and a =heavy eoowVhenthe road brow. f ' ' Iw:ntsto 'show you.the only bright, shin- is. face Lverpaiinted:W2 ' ' he unwrapped atnoyal portrait, placed it 1 itbe.adtlepiece,,ad, stepping:backtfixed b" =gae oi' Irene.;d She sawa tremor cross 4helqsit 0bethasid trhisome seconds the.sad * ps dielhuonstha picture as if fageinnted1. '44X'nust 4avebepn a apiieent portrait: ay~ cusingl~eam 4go; hut beihas changed 6 e~w tesneryeow'W' i "Woild you .have recognized it, under any circunistances 7?':+ "Ves.-~-anywhere.;'if I had ,stumbled over it. in thea dusty: crypts of Luxor, or the icy wastes of Siberia, 1Ihave never seen butone head that~resemble that; or eyes that were in any degree comparA e,": '4lrene,"Ivalue this portrait above every- thing else save the original; and, as I may be called to'pass through'various perils, I want you'to take care, of it for me, until I come back to W -. . It is a precious trust, which I would be willing toleave in no hands but yours:" . '. '" You forget;that, before long,.I too, shall:go .tVirginia." " Then pack it awaycariefully among your old family pictures where it, will be secure. I left my large and best paintings in Italy, with Aunt Ruth, .who iprornised to preserve and send -them touame as' soon as the blockade should 'be.raised.1 ' =, '" Whatare Mr. Young's views concerning this war?" J" " He utterly abhors the party who. man gurated it, and the principles upon which it is waged. Says he will not return to America, at. least for the present ; and assoon as he:ban convert shi property into Money, intends to move to ;the South. He opposed and regret- ted Secession, until hey saw ,the 'spirit, of the Lincoln dynasty, and from. that' timeheac- knowledged that all hope of union or'lecon- struction was lost. RHave you heard. anything from Harvey since 'the ttoubles began ?"' "'It is more than a-year since-L received a line from him. 'He was then stilldart the West. but madeno; allusion to the. condition' of ,the country." ' ",Irene,,I hope to see Russell; soon.. You were; once dear' friends; have you any mes- sage for. -him -.any' word of kind remeli- brance ?" , ' ' One of Irene's hands glided to her sidebit she answered composedly : - "He knows that he always'his my best wishes.; but will expectno message." .2On the followipg day Electra ,started to Richmond,-taking with her.a large supply of hs ital stores *hioh the ladies of W - had contributed, :.f ,} Eric hadp reposed to 'his niece the :expe-. diency of seeing the' Hill andbecoming an inmate of his snug, tasteful, bachelor honie'; but she firmily refused to'consent'to-this plan ; said that she would spend her life in thehotse of her birth; and it:was finally arra ged that her uncle shouldtreserve suhof the furniture as he valued particularly, and'offer the reside for ialewith theApretty cottage,' to which le' was warmly'attachtid.e.During~the remainder . of autumnd rene was constantly engagedda superintesiling. work for the doldiersp~pro vidingsfor.'eeeali~poordamilies nluin the wasmnuch iersted%,asfd in freqsehtvisits to #164 M ,MARIA., Ix MALARIA I8& the plantation, where'-she found more-thdn enotuh' to occupy her mind;gandEric often wonered at the admirable Wystem adpunct- utyshe displayed--at the'grave oomposure with -which; she discharged her dailyjduties, and the invariable} reticence she obse*red- with regard to her past life. CHAPTER XXXIL ,Didyou ring, Mass' Eni " " Yes ; hag Irene come home ?" s "Not yet, sir.". " Bring some-more wood." SOwing to the scarcity of coal, the grate had beaniremoved andmassive brass anirons sub-t stithteds om piled them with, oak-wood, swept the hearth, and retired.,It=was cold' elening;- there hadbeen# sleet the; night{ before; the trees ;were' glittering with icicles;r but in theyafternoon the sky cleared, cnd, a sharp northwestei. promised °goods-weather.: Eric drew the sofa nearer the blazing'fire and laid himself down toirest--.aMiting ipa- tiently for the return ofrhis niece,; who had bieuabsent since dinnr,;The'library looked cheerful, comfortable, luxurious. rene's pret ty work-basket sation the little mosaic table, close to the hearth; and by its side lay a vol.. umn of Tennyson open at "Locksley Hall," with a half-finished glove which she had been knitting that meolning) nesting" on the, page. Upon the- low mantlepiece stood two ruby- colored bulb-glasses containing purple;. hya=- cinthsins full bloorn; between them afluted crystal vase of perfect white camellias from-the, greenhouse;, and in - arrich ' bohemian goblet three early golden crocuses looked out from a mass of geraniumta leaves. 43ronne busts of Kepler, Herscheland La Plae, crowned the heavy carved. bookcases;" the,' soft silvery" glow-of the lamp fell upon the form of the cripple,. wrapped in a warm plaid' dressing gown, and showed the thin, sharplyocut-visage} of Paragon, who had carled-lhibself laaily on the velvet rug. The room was very still;"save; the sound of the cracklingfire an&dthe-chirp ing of the, canary, whose cage had been;placed on {one.of the:.broad wimdo*ksillW;After a timer the door opened and the gisti-ess came ih "Irene ! you must benarly frozen. What kept you out so late?" "1 hadmore than'usual'to attend to at the' Asylumnthis afternoon." What'was the matter?" Ye have anew Matrong andI was particu- larly anxious thatshe should start Nt in one' or two respects., .1 waited, too, ihi order to see the cihildigep at supper ansdatisfy myself about the bookmg.. ., '4~ow many orphans are, tI ere in the'4sy- "Thirsty-four. I admitted two this eeing -children of rne' f osr soldiers hovdied frosb.. wound reeierd4Leesbu4"wt 'ei "Poor littl'hings 12'am' afraid you will find numbesE simiitariastanti@ before his war is at an end.;' S"We will ntrtofradiroom forall 4tdehss. The biildingillaedomnibd'ate one huidr d.P " You' must-bevery cold; 1Il make Joh briieyou'a glass ofT ine." _To; sireI o not need it: ,My shawl 4s eting =vis=elboir on the silken ushien}' her 'unele leatei f'orard so as' tO tee Ohe countenance distinotly.g She had toitoe handed thy' shidinrhead of her ; d a, ho nMoM sat close to huerhair gazing soler nly Itothai rid coals; and berkpottre, asshe rested} back against the. piofoeco lxining;et ke e weariness.. pB' contrastwith;the th kitbds of hey b b aiie ehrss thefaoeglermedi . gularly white, and the cuirhng brow Ihe made fringy shad raonMthepolishhed cheoks * 'Trehe."i . *;J' ' She turnie hbr head slightly ad -aselher eyes: * m i' °a 4 m'r 'Did.you receivela letter whichit sentto, your room ?" ' ' g " es, si: It.was from p nen'okr " He has established himself in Riond."t "'Yes,'sir -his;renet'attackbf rhebtamtisfn unfitted him for service in the felodi"n S'I h'iad alletter froisColonel Aubrey to-day. He want to buy my hose: ', m She-made no dommn ent,and lIer eyp9 - ed again to the perusal of the strnana shapes which danced and .flicktered on thebumished andirons. .;";' " Whatuse do you:suppose hellas for it "I'can not imagihe, unless he intends it a a home for Electra.f' "What a witch ydifre at guessing ;ithys exactly it wlHe days; intisletery thai kmay not survive'tht war, and wishes to he the assunnce thatisi cousiinpislcomfortabl prow vided forobefo- a he goes intoanother battle. His offer is iberalg and4shalluc t l&g WellIaiglad she pill oer it--for1htve often heard rer' speat of those ;old Ib ar- ti es} n the -front yard. She has al r a ds nmi'ed 'the glace."y'4 " fI tri'ut brey wileotie batk . ly aiarer soneotnan worthy of ilns heti't intellectand lidt di.there'ha pdi hnneefi o' you believe the current report that he is 6n, gaged to alome?" 2'" '1, "Why not? She is "certainly ab-rilliant girl, and an uidoubted beauty y ; "Such atemeamineza as her would arcea ly enzt ?hiim Ttin"" .i 'ndtapeoplo often Seleut their oppOkite' "And 'fer itg eason I su pect Ethat~t *would net aiake ham h Ppr 'Whats' eaty'he it js went to the .ln asnhia'rdih iith Isame gelitlenietI, sle a& page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] them neair ho rnig ch e. oi- a no o ent n .~I t shBI oL4f w deuni s llr iedah'er, fpise t hbIs ellioy.: ; Jamwa ' e o'ih t r u y, °'o S t o 3} aft al ", ,." "ir is;h a b sd 1spoe , # , o s x ! r ' ,i. "ip 1 s ' m e , o ~teh nee " . o i !,x' uobjectious iid go A I t s"4 , , X1t4 ''I~tV 3 n, b b~r;~Utlia *P4 r e r V& o~ron with mu next we ej, ,r Ir,' t" x ;y0 1' 1 ;E,' r,"uu 1 ynv rent ' It is a strange and unreasonable freak, Se. * 'r~ y n of, the dimpled' hand w bdl aci Pirrga' 4 ih, I umiust sayI do not approve of: There fQd orsJ~ i h d J~i p1d hit 4t hey 1n est inMek&- are' plenty of' nurses to be. hired, who have. tipa of. ibterest. At this ,dun : tur item W more experience .a d are every y 'yfar more 4 rt i O eU5. s d 4hm:toith 4iff tt r4 &;4.*Iie suitable for snobpu ltio hs." , 4ntI }y o , (J.. rms Ie t t fw I l0 . "«Upeha, thte °moen in _'our ' rmies- atr, xnut "I ont, s Alt , r; I t~t ~on 'jhr; u .i n hired to' figYht'iouri'aktle.; axnd! then las the -fj chd d i "tt y r d r c i t h li rary 1 womnof' the land can do i' to, rsi-t ln ! a', t ' ed i,1 e .; d ht ar,4ti tbur-when sick or *onded'v The call.i:,s xi4eru- f s I$ .,s on 9 _ ! fl fi tl ;s ;, . ; r a;, eel Jt Qttat-hoie';.but I.1 o dn gt oI .icane.Inot lo s &O a7 ,, s , a,ths are bjh4moih ro. ;J b no ties tai:pev iiW~be l 0J. t nwa, ku tr .nrh adfrom givring;,kny.services,,in .tbe,,oxilyway jn; ' 1 "l,. - . " ' ,I 'Iw °_f ~ ;j V;, t~ . .t,. lcIii a. n S the cau~e&if or' which , f",' . ° w "h the fixit 1oe Itdo al t ,, ,knit ,n sf ther dcbI e1it a s ced',d Oyu nd,, Uoe i1 ffieB tr e pue~nehan l ey esy, an . 4ichk't.Eric, ,it aiiip ess to ar u I'aar e m ; ,,, * 1 , ~nb ;.he, " datertntdt&.go ib 6nce - Will yo acnapi", ~ t, ;c our men )need them' when they iure ,standing:ny 'tee ' ! ; ;a f, . , zpi ;w 4 , inn' uu 4~~ nxIAnst r~1 j0N+ ,4d Jt,41R,4*idiwok lhol in ; a niusket in "Y n lllykill, yourself " .IVA4o,,e-, De&1, ri ,k ft+/1P' thie' pen anr such weather as this.'' e ' u ."I could. uot.die, in' .better, cause." . ,; ;' nted, ib 4. :14less *d ~noy d'an d ived dee per iong . " Is: I ife'bft hess bat1 u:weldtrshy"'.t (4 itu)Qk s r1 ,, , 91 el: u d 1 this e en ; By no, mens:I amab to eutidrei hat -. ' everlastiw of+ ai . ,.,O ,~tu ell enough Bart I" hatti the '."fdes: d'otbone que ulpus i.nvalid ' eripple . t"" a moio "a o 11i eeas moonothose t r eedle uset. - es.' . ~ouco n wic , e:, \"' *,' o~Ie ' z he glove;':put t" in her bits-" No, sir. 'BesideI. can' tke care .of:.yO ii k i:' 4p I Y{{. ~ tl I s{'' rs ktt 1trc i:l ; ;# t: x ,;; ; .r.I i chon: Riwllhmond oheswh asd, well, as to of'others;o whuloyui needhmre";. ,; j, " , oorTlI i, ,a..., $ he, '" o . ~ r what do you propose todo *itb~the house, ~lmxut 1 ' A ove l1 tfbgsr mythld, ,I.radtetought . ii hall! send the-1horsesl'tolthe (plantation, , ; or 5,l'n l i"4 e (1 l ofbIr o be ha o,;i~,, ",v. ou, t ,"'I °and takendrel . tthtme; he isi-ana dnirablo a p r ,d , e a 4 X. , ., bethat, I b l R'rr; tdI f 'nurse. s, rha, also, whvim I have " to teon as I ,is k teie :st ' ryo's , ; ' e gan1g~ s r; if' you alouur 'how1, ' d1, ert ral ,o o'asmons, 6 'uissiet~ moj readt'in he, then Il-nitheiii''a vlmaniy~v Y oii ~ o it Apme ;Pass more Ip aiady~ . 'hospital: 'The ;other, servants' I shall leave den I foro? ~ y oeii h f tkre *d o h at ,globsmy;enough' at. ' he. Johb'a id Nellie will Jinep things ip; griefs slip rpm 'i , . onuih d rhess u ,4 ont avoi endea rnet to 'afreee andre- eeb~~'t ~ n.egt ax ~ ,o 'etx n ~uope r~' eeaobstacle' t +ry departure;" '..' nd'd t& afartt n ,1; zgt t heo ax'ed;r'e A ,"h t ,bu you, .have'y boeen o. delicately the' g nr4 t ;;.s oJ sie..asor to a l sii~ ~a (', taoh nurtu db and ,the :burdens ' ou' would ; . herle 'se'o ~~', yAlf ,1 y1 b w i hen .BribW& o r l 'u' s ol a e i o ei'bns '? . 1.; '' , "huinbly:, , ' , 4 ': s td ~8e~tl,,rd leriand:'geatly on his whttenz 'shu ~*i h, : i ,~ot'"r~t~rI~f lr ~ it , *L h4 t, A,4ae: e Oll3.repl a ' Ir anad: added jple hlr.: zgI1,ric " :; ', ssle j " - '..''n' . thr tx y," eb itunts1 an their l"bax kexany " 4 lDb n ot~po, eV nn want " /,' ty JM (b i(WI ie ss "a he*nd c& rd 1tyJy,' *M&i ' ' " I. y or aac"on in all at do. There'are only: ', ho'.t ; 6 ' P tW" W~~e ou know that Ihar~e longdesu'ed itwo'ofurs left ;gowith uras foade at7 p o' ,oritas niesuybedto eep ite' tim no wih m." " ." '' ' H" 0ji a{s ~and lateldd to go to Rtclhrao lc,'h.ivat',o'ns tector. I 'could not be , hapy "' v atoi i)-Ite h~iIi dc r tg &' 1ow ' t ttrua'ha Wbe' at e ' I cl ostt i, e"" " CFir 'd'tri p usy '_ f '{iti, n'of l' w't j Oli Ar 9 ol ' tns oa1ter. { h rge s . ital' .,.? _' _ _'c i n th.o' t " . a . ,. yow i p yt u"ppy I. . +r. '- ' f j 4IJ "?{. _aa 'r ''4 4)51%2 ~~VWV P 1 v t f V t i ; , " y 3 a'', i'' ois} r, I r , Dee 4 , .r page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] ,r s r+ P rqacl g ene and 1eeptr f It $ :~y; ha4p; aa, as he drain tto 1 itA6' Yr/y' Q _ j I w tp t4 . s . j V W y " ', ,L .i t t: . ib~C t - b . 1 1V 'S #t l %T it ,ypu t, t3 p ; ir C"f } Fr l t. ;+ tr _ t, i y Vlj 'it 1 iitof ) i;. jK , x~r § IPU ~ e *t'i "tFA' blood"I .t "aic t l sMlt{ j rttret lr f 4 Y y {[[ s{{ " ,".i i * {i~ a, 1 v~ s + dv fio wit~l4s?::,eIL0 , t. 4 T Afpi tt eI 1 7i #. "' $j }} y £ o , da g t r Mxry- ou d have , i , r i } ry ,u ' t'4iyY+ t' r,'! ." sr4 ! 3 .-( ' H A '' ) l . y a , a /" [ r y4 1'*.ptt YoFo ho RY! 'T M, j( ee 1 J~arrid hpax i't ? bean 'Q 'Cly x i roa A.p~ 33 raI F *i +% prs ~o p~i ~ t $~~n t RO &rtr " :t r~'1 p aI , ';, , t c, ,t Jo odwhen elt o it. iia rae.' ' - " 3,tt .fr$;F 4 g :? r i! w;; i l x ' ' w " ' S i fo* wl a.a ' t' e .! he3 r f q aw ., . O0 tV' m eld n t o. h p9 e ry-,. 1 ft. ur g vest- " O R 1 w r 1, ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ v ,as d zghwtb -r b-o(" , y~' e" t hi pary" drhs ~t4 l~ w m~jto tpn~ " }i ;usof 'ftf ' Abet~ ~ froc a n c d ' ra in g e ' 'M e p - p Ab e hn} ge f tyA ' tra e i dnto . t't rl the .lL~is }+:di9)- X94 fl Tt~~ #. K t t le p r s " ' under, d 4 '., W , C ,' waoortoeas xte cueJ' , : 01 q g~ n t Wi " a ?4: :1 Lhp X0 ?#RxI; Tr~' page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 0 }ti l ~ i'v 'Yo tl ,_ "#, ' 'tl 'iheeye § had vvr iy the bonds ;of'1-hh 4'N1othing.'k I LT ve racked ' and the soul was near its exodus.' Sorrb 4.fsl'y iitlt ~r rmedM .p With 4ooi;4 i ik- she watched the sharpenin" features, which ing+ very rapidly. ,and yop must stii il tW hiWi, five weeks of nursingr a4 rendered singularly s sftl . ITlie a ' '(id= r ' rah baedfan~tiar;"a aprs bqtogh f ',the atred wife £~$'O~W~ftfli~" ~ o b ~vdow94, a id - , dau htej orphaned, 0-1 n5it~hi~ t mrn i " s i'sd' i cm eso h +r'd 'fth. '° isses stirred 'the p~r t ; y u et r e'o 'ctrtl : +ar a'ufer i'rit ad tears ' atJa rsd in Pd-1 urt" 1'EU 5U, , ' r- u fe oct r fn' 1 e'. -i:nd ; ui Fevj mct" is 4;,, h6 -W thitened LdL ' r iow tr i"°edr~e' =1pm[ auna sdtlulibut '* 1im oi t 1*t d h thefl-6' sm i°i he abu he ro aed; and'f a.h .id'r'he do, PwI 1 pn'totds lr.ly eoBid&'o'6e fry (u a latine f' air A h rtf e1''o~kti"}1d t$cos h'ii~~ h hw rlid~~f i, ht o.fn'a)tene d1at° . Idi h ain s ie kd rid' qus e in, ansa' A xhe d- s nk ! c e ly~' a 'ea 'ropd & b ii 'nis and whett she e e ~' thelood cri~eeng acroh ithis1qaj vr , tiea'vas~4ihs frshe iss rl"cf'ated Shouer ic - ts tahe 6k.'Theu ei rn ' hlae fth lieds "nr gourd,' ' Flie rfe-n ca.. ' g e m d-fitfulys ion'fthes'hue1of6eat dfldi' ' ' cold uIs '' -somO 'y~tn ith' m ; ~hld, oh Ij s wim allopw4)ed td ut a . eglry assdhis" "d s o ' 9rin iwd it h .fe -'or; 'dti i " n s 4I fieds lif 'd hipe'''' '" sleprhie 6psh'ea' d hdk' J FaryBele!InWsed to singbut h st4,ind thned,'wlcome bays of t; lh t'r the d6d pakJHry}' in ireet a r nd p tbdfromi fr+a ~ tiho no f a'ieAniurthe 'd 'foI ;i e ° ' i mtrs-4he hi wakefbito' ' .,o i ' p irildi so t ' l id ia l ° 1.0' in he' -she foul morn, #y irsde' s~~hs tf~hh~ "sd~e'w'n}t'"" , saf ± ! beepperriited" tavist teir sek &i' dp 'so u d ark idead uupre' d ~i lto cotne anrb~d'dn st -ie ir; &the ir'op b hidv' hl' ard' h'shoe're.tr'e'ro 'whO s, ~e, hr lh~l arl'is=ati d 'T e gurd eoiidae mple nr' pd then sank bamk .Th le .' ,. "flam 'V"' e " Iam is r h sgord "ieistd co aons. ca t'la m afilly ln tl ine f'fre t= e 1Wha'}hih1 'l"{ or':': n " ~ ' "'J uea ihiborarlu, o os,e I it ish olers f'b swalloietd"6'd r ht wi'l y'ad ais bre t r'he , re ron a~r i f tt' : N; a gs, d h 'e iwie t;i'y ,wre 'toK', ht I xpt ress~ion She erd ~lepaitpfel ireathhtrf' the 9d acte dldlk a'gurtn wiLeaenf;"": ' '"" ~tlist'sI d f altlbrhe ii~to 'e lhuiy!tpom ' Hrad "Here4 its sboe;ishoinning ind lieol ' h e datbe#adg heri han s'toa"t6'hai fdie e"a on"eb h f-ic ping 1 iie'cn- t~e, ad-her acoeuts'smileligng', ie ybiU nobd ins' i' casie WSlloWeit .l' son' "sen ~a ojotid rhnerhor i yttI inherselc a fedwjtchv-d'orrt )d"b}the oo'st3 sf y histi )4ha, and sLiutinden; i A ~17 1 could 'render' any servrie. As it is, I sam nriod ,spicer 1 dr p de 6j#AU1 w Wh needed u pstair's." ' ' c1a~ted e t d ti re $~t The" aro: vishrrs Were 'l hort; abut}so . were 'br +sh 'tmt h oi h # k tfe oP that occasionally she required Andre i 4 t h4. fns A g 4 $hdn 1 wW f %Ii4 ance to, held the suffi. er dn his ceit, anid' as ef S t§,' ler lv lo they ir;grIw les frequent she es~Wta i iahe~ ~~hl5i4 strength failed;rapidly. ''tFin'ly'befell initb ~orth a~pall , td i4 i i. '~t troubled sleep, with onehi eue h u 'Vri' tbuld'"ae e ti ow the a; t fpeop ' Warm N~earIY an, hou , passed- th 1Vanti the t4lise ed their sdltl,&(t. f.t t knelt softly beside h hi an4 pi' aeiPlbngwoen n nd PIand ferv'ently that; the- souxl' f the younrii ,i-ttit i ' to i1Itu i Co tyr miirhr find its home' with' lGod, 'ahd tlt hi'' tthe 'p raltel ,ho r rof a se far-;off mourning mpthei' might be stththeOd ti~hi PTh6 bilHiW !cofi nr nft bl od %i to "bear this heavy l nrde n of l roe::Ther~e,: ithgitftumy:shed suitd b tw f ats-saI th6 shadow f D'eath~th&ewonianivs sp h'W soared las f~1idt § i' cr i'; r i.. f'ay from sin and l o#, flfom 'the stornyshrs# rdly'tbhtbe fhi%'fr i d ofo3 t A of Time,'and' held holy tommutuon' "with'~heI'her d td :1~ ~ ~ ~ nation 'through'the, relmalnztPa years' ot' her drat willh 'diei ndt + 1a, , earthly pil~ritna~re ' : "o' ° ' Though I look upon my iotlier's fac #,,w ' As s&ketwt e face 'upturned a sof't in fl 4 'orld'aci( i pf~f~e ri'rr sig' hee1a -d warm palm was laiaihipongyhoied for.eed and a' -t ° '&mnycf their's bl ii j' flI i _ "5 lawv, svi eet, manly .rdiu ponounceti in bane smile, t sbatl ieve e' rT1k i~ ' May the }Lotrd bless you; I i n n~abin' r-iy s fad d g a'he~dr lJb aie dahtly answer all your-prayers ' and eell ' h i 'ho i ' Witl t thod tlh;iy She prose quickly and'puot' h4"r' dis nn ged" h;tpes and d' tffhr ~esolO l ' +d, had.' struggles mine. , Q'' "OhHarey! earfridnd' t}' Thank God', Hiswhite schola~rly handl wt stnt I have found you once' more. =, 4-"'" K ' ' o r is i'kkei' _ -tvii of~ 'He" Iiftid the 'candle 'aaid held{ i1t nearlief trimmed hair and beard'Jcueau{grim, j riale r face, scathirtg the 'seulptuned' Afeatui'e ,;then aS Get' '~th e t",bIWf cel 1' ik th " Wfli 'ii~d stoop euladkissed' her white iheek=' ' 'faded' nforirh e d'aequ~ga'ttan'rith" "I felt that lI'could ' not 'be "mistakeni i the 'pditive hatd ifi's and' * osire if an ac- heard our soldiers blessing a'kale 'woman' in tive'ea ipaign:L '3K ' x black,' with large eyes bluien' thansummr skies,' '.,Iex eeted: iiothsihg° es~ frbti 'oI"~n and hair that, shone like r"ays of a set'tin k-tin ;'brothli't~ felt that A61i~whuly- a b ' iqC ratim' and "I ,knew th& silent, gentle, tireles Watc her your sympathy and support ;' and ,I 'tt ptu9i4 before they told' hdr nanme. 'For'!mrany 'years acid =in x i 4ily h i p,"ttin Pf e frh 'obur I have prayed that you might' be&6nieL al i' ''atciie Afitd d ttiat i s, "Y ti ee- d a strumient' o good to your fidlloiv-cn'eatui'es, and' t& nme i~ before l'k a ; s fr ;;Ii r 3At~ty v 'w udelr tQA-night I rejoice to fII M you, }at last; 'su eariest'd rei' ties ' ea'l rka :of' trial,,'wie, coworker." yu'A'hak" "v' ' you ly 1"hos H"Wrve have you "ben this long' tim~e,' yourg, brave, strun'gling Nht~ ~ ~ d Hre And ' ho'Ii~ it .that' Oud Ne a°'fH± s oea d welt [I Jruhthr"; & i 5 l e d. Conifederate uniforms?' "" M'gadly kat hUi, &nd 0& bed JF raven''hair 4u5§ 1am chaplain in a' Texcas regfimetadhnspse ~i, s'hy;sd'dni ~k have been with a'the armiiy'from the begnixisg years b ei et, h~i n le w s' :an in^ ahd li of thesedays of 'blood, At ,first it was a pain=,fa her' h :H'*k ,. 'r~a "',; re ' "' 'fk=;c . ful step, for' me;"my affeetions:''my ssiiatno ;''; "f "ot t# i&4iad'.your Wsirk fa d.A$a s thel 'hallowed ,remis4denes f"' m-boyhood, contenIineii, in £Lhss i lne* It '' t. 8p i all linked m heart wih e'York.'~'M eadme hhiw ahltg stt~4eM tire' and, friends werethere q-audi 'Vk tie uo t =v'tbe vm:14d.chbery tie f' '" , the'pae hteyrmany of 'thiem: " I- ti~t et :asong the fnl ltlok Sf byo' h'ded war«wolvess that -'hen & An hungry hoe :aloe ' y'o ' f ce lr ' ti'' ~ I" the uor~ers'if h&$uth.'M~ee'vr 4twed ' " '~hankd to 'out uidaui'O41;. i f atd revere' 7' ' flthe U : iion-4id 'eobtn#hlU' O em "l mer ' y'"e am''"hfrt~ i# 1 page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] ve t% fi l pItiton a w gtQ th M wo~ ~~~o vh-r4te ?ervpx , t ryt:do p 8i*Uiug8 efi~thoy vt;, t '~o l ' i too,,.esszay;, ;inu r b a } sn; w Qtg be nve ALL ith yo aq e Gins:t is0 :fie, W-h&-; youe 4k) o ab o f ,gr t {bfc;, or"e uI iiae ea'G.tyo, Jh-ig o yte ; y0U'pe ~n rowJ1atea ona3erningyd i ps; b ttiiso i,"s nt t nowtSim&py Qs4Iiia of thought and feeling. 'To-nlQ rOw ;w zlli tejlk ;1,to,=nigbt I conld not .repress 44y, hpa- ti0 ,e ,to ,gee, , you, 1thIugh : but for Fa,,few ro-f : eft7hoy had qQ ver ed inAwo.sftotIherdtolea,. lnge s,' whioh a.#ii re pedI, her aiws, rie $. veut~rbeek to the. 1iI zMA's., pIitjw 04,en g~ , thghstly face, where the chill ovf, eath 1 t;4p trayiwfel.;te:plei a;i ow ,more t robsb, '4tl~he iert, wilt J e. fIhave nursed, him, and nw hs tee4 i ehbaplan bow isz h ead, flau la4,ida he ° t'£ngeaecon 1;l4 aid: fes aetiem own oor' the glIiie y i, .at i Y@evpz$buiave hi r~v, nth a icomforts mee . I beyteh" in" , ii " A II 1 1iA~d N_/ l dn IL i1..T ...a Y_0 dead, an ibeckoxihg to the two soldiers who O now stood near, silent and awe-struck, they tol.np the et aud bore it into a' small room o ';A.h,4hone3how harrowing such frequent spectacles pet be. .I should think,.this posi- ' tiou wont be hmst intolerable to one of! y3 your keen sympathies.", . S " Ilow harrowing,.only God knows." She drew ahar near.young Walton, and, e- sea4mg ,berself,.contiuuedt,: ' ; bat.uwould be intolerablee, but for the con- Svicti-tha-1, sometimes sav livesr-lives pre- e; clous. tp. 1friendt, and country, Hard as that Scapermy seem, this is sadder still. That old 4. qin{ hadbut, few, years.'left .at bent ; this boy ' stands othevergeof mahgod, with'the fair l: g'en; Meadow of. life stretching dewy and J untroden before him,, enasielled with hope and bounded, l by shining peaks. which his brave, ambitious spirit panted .to scale. A motherspride aud solace, a sister'e joy, one of ;aNaton' sreasred guardilands,sricken down, inii firs.battlembathing hiscountry's rid- dled banner in his warm young blood. How; 'longbr4l .lanj will..Ahnigh-ty, God withhold his vengeance fromthe wolfish ardes who are batting upon:the blood of freemen? Harvey, if there be not a long and awful re- tributioi;for that Cain-nursed race of New Enoland, there is neither justice nor truth in. hig eaven, I have .become strangely .at- tached to this, boy.; He mistakes me for his mother, follows me eagerly with his eyes, clings. to my dress, fondles myhands. Around his niek is suspended a locket containing; her miniature,; nd yesterday, when I dressed lhis wpund,, he felt. for it-showed .me how he kissed, it before going into battle-,believing that it would prove a talisman., What harm, could befall, ,with his mother's face over his heart'?Only, a privatein the ranks ! No- stars and bars to deck; his homespun jacket, no official pomp and glittering paraphernalia torplease his youthfulfauiy-none of :the.gor- geops,accessories whicligild .the Stern profes- sion' like jewels on a corpse-+inobadge of dis- iAttiQp, ave his gh stly death-wound.,' The derly nurtured darlingsof:Soi thern parents, chegrf l intl, midst pf unparalleled hardships, eantentwith magrerati ns which his negroes at hoine wplgd, scornfutly, reject, standing drear ,watbh inspon andeleetand rain, with r4em'ri of lo p'y and Areside:joys tempting Jim' fromhbis gloQpy, plitary post--springing to, met. the colums ,9f thefoe. though the Oatignis fate depended.;upon his individual yalogand asking biqt a grave tn the soilbha diedldefeang. Only a private in the ranks! Qh64Athisconsecrateddegion, stretehing like aj'all of iesh aelng the borders of our land, whnta ensreless 4ebt weogy I 'Wed~e- peaa eis ebtiajued, aend wht.r,obei; Peace spredaor stainlesyhaidds i Wlessinggoer us, . lot history proclaim, aridlet our people rever- U MA.0e ently remember, that to the uhcomplaining for-i titude and sublime:devotionof th'e-private vol- diers of theConfederacy, not less-thahitotile ge=1 neius of our generals-and the heroi's'n of our sb- ordinate officers, we are indebtedfor Freedom.' She laid her head F lose 'to the boy's mouth to- listenatoIhis low breathing, and thte inister saw her tears fall-on hispillow and' gleamVon his auburn' locks. The deliriumnasseined to have liven place t6 the dreamless leep of'ex- haustion, and folding one.-of her hands around his fingers, with the other she'softly stroked the silky hair from his fair smooth forehead,' " Irene, will my presence hieaidoe om- fort you ? If so, I will'-remaisrtillmio 4ng." .. No; you can douio good:' ,It'is inidnight now, and you irust be wearied with your long ride. You can not' hel'tne he,,but, to-mor- row I shall 'wanit you-'to Igd With: ao to 'the cemetery. 'I wish his family to hive the sa d consolation-of knowing that-9ninister knelt It his grave when we laid the youxgpatriotin his last resting-place. Goodsby, my lbiother, till them.' -Eleetra is' in thet next room will you' go in 'and speak to her ?"' ' "' 6" No ; I will see her early in the morning' He left her to.:keep alone her solemn vigil; and through the remaining hours of that star. rv Jun' night she stiri-ed noV froii ths nui ro cot-kept her fingers on the sufferer'e fleeting ulse-Lther'eyes on'hig whituringface. Abd6u three o'clock he moaned,stru led lightly, and looked intentl at her. ' e ave him sie' bdiindy, and folind that he'swallowed with great difficulty. ' " ' - - " "WEillie, re y9u in pain ?". SIs 'it you, Mother-and are we at home ?s he askedindIstin tly r I "' ' .' ,:{ Sou are' gging home, Wlllip; you 1wil soon be there." , "L ,have not .said ray:prayers' to-night. Mother} ;hildrmy i iskne agaidute"' ' ,L I put otthis arin nasMf to;onsig. it to er 'a reand folddLhishands together. e, K!.' nr lathet who martin heayefNihaoiveg b' thy name-4' His voice s.adtoia'whis. per, inaudible'forjsome .se4ondsip then. he. paused, as if confused; a troubledok;l erosed hisfeatures, the hazeleyes'6fledand the hands fejl;powerless onhisehOst. , aying, herhanu on psrowIren i''ly repe t. arfavonft pela which ,bad; seemed toghat'hisminm tW, d y befor -tlttpealt ofj pranbxeoel. ord is ;my.Shepherd ; ;I 'shyltnotse 5. Whether he, derslped it .now; themnerer knew,, buthisd.r-gero. crept -caretsingly to her face, eekly strking her che,* wihilnab. spoke, and when he concluded he seeed*r t* hsT~ewe it al-I; 4don't--'& 'Then tue~indstictlygenatehhinfatrayer wbiclha been taught hibt at his tnekle-bed 4 ft~er a shortsilence he shivered1 etd'mr. wrir d':' ' '. ' '. . "Caporalkof the gnardU poet .,umbar nine I Mother, it is 'coldtandinge t 'night, battthe lidf+ill n i bin und. His eyes wandered .ardunzd the; diin'oonm, then slowly losedj'asthe fell int&thdalep that knewai aathly akin'g FA K r A sick gra$ fewfadst offaske for some walte,4fid asIrebe'reeitedths tunblerifrom his l"andhe said, under:his reath - "'lie iswoiseyto night, isn't=he;'Ma'ii ?' *b ;"Y1e w Iowr is that pairiingyotar side 1' I mustputa'blisten en it ifpit growg mote see. "i1 dbesuiot trouble mne as muoli as =ithid abont dk. How is rmy fevers, "Ndt so hi thy fifteentbeats 1 o'willki able':C6%kes iine'e at seven:odelck;'};A She snuffed the candle and resumed hdr setan gaiu' ileereigned s ll nee brToken bolydby'taPdeep breatin-. the0 p iedtsand the sudden jihgle o etvetalsoin'th table asa hi gradn oseraxt linen theni to idhble atthe open jarofrsiple eerat f.; l,''r °{ S e-airgeechillypasa liht ist gatlieed along, dhe James, andi;tnnI the irnmble ot whe liig tho paved stred told thate ople were begnnngEtostu ifr the ,leepmg cetr. Slowly a halfhourarollediawdy ; Ireneabiuld krelylfeel the' faint 'pulsatieis at,"Wslie Wal- ton's wristband asdhe ppWhedt, ear tk;hidipsia long,"ast shdderingasigh.escaped ;hiiwehe battle' of lifeis 'endadt: Willi es e af'had 6ome The youtgjsentiuel paseo hiastery '1Ta+ e +d f dai '4 *Tea s droppedorthe;tif f'aeas the uurse cut several locks of curling h ir;thtilsteid aroirnd:the boyish temples and' took'froii the motionless heart theloved picture which"had been so ofte -a ndyo o r'kissedy iihe fitful light of'eafniirycovered tie nobs ;heatihe farrat e fatnris,4iIth ~er haudker hefgutndgwakibg indrw ontu edt the bodg left her ow yad s tta d onebego n!he passage:}.' ;tasmallet blat einniear iri range V to the rodprwhernsheThadepaedadd he AcanrdlprwaSaggtterinli4# s lo, ~~ Midcold :,msty hito dawnsted e 1era blindow Ao'rwis'i ooi~ o at rr iedh ta t, a od,4d ing so ndly, with 'hes car about her ls pidess4t lone hand and the otheididigeei %jl dren &ftd th b ar ls thejtd yville&thathijhedoxeek atid eks0~t s eJ - ha .. bdenisleep 'a$~$4 r page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] fo i 1 oek q H6W TM p tv e":two a ft '' .I m r r W h t t -t he matter ? "Surely you "1 are.a,4 +' ), i {Si ,,f"1 t ~Jlt fPCti ,+r ,' a.r i*14'D ii1i h1 ,ild yih B t . . i1tnd r-rA nl ?, o Ih v 'n dead; .... . ,R ; .i.', w t -., f .4 ears ;about the: sa yo i~ no l feieat is ' i)hilhwg tlhbow dioi uragin k L*ent inotwritt ni ~ -' Lr .ion; ,but I shudder tin r ~ of5 *lOlk, t~rie; nd ldkod 'i Mtvr +- obade :i w oflth~uproeipus hiuman I1httatou~ns to be you were prayiikgp)fh&-th : ast tie' on hud iunuoolate~aoz,;yoncler. hilIs before McClellan is you r fa ib iibnii Iie tpon i , t Iii'e i pill N wlybt.on,'ictr) iIqiet .4 ivaht d k. rii'.R a k.;frQ"hit . ofb tVector01y dio ,,.uiepti oJld Lr L it'' (, Totgh o'its'awfii"prce." " more told'm t11 f wdulddie, awli y~iads $I eshacl ed J,1w ,a e ,nd lshudlrJered ' me'u w( hok ita -could~ot relfrve. F}-1' Oti tup, ebild1. a We av make quicker' Iwl ; wpfk- ofY i',th1an you seeNm 'to r iagin... But t-tvow pr ~ ip~i = ha.aoted( f a te ltyOilsupposeo 'reveprseir, should overtake us, ,what Mr. Ihlidly yoid'er, who has pneutmoia.Just wou~d., you "do ?" -"I F "1 l lia e l buu sole,a t peanas al ( :' _;s al:: ) ' ee', .s Ionig 4s aman or { r « Iha'e LAourt rt ' uto I i0 ei etwith a!ornEi~is .Ilt to attend :to; tbie wouudred; and ab aaot,,4i r1 i1Ylooro sbi, doe- j w'hieb !,-God fQr+0id --ur rmy sl ut b for cdniss AMVw ,L and, theri 1 s1alb o,"bons. for 'd l, o 1rwe~ig.n~rh' ,b e e'yn ra~ ? ' ",;(t~ :,. s3 . oicto t ,knbjV, tbat the., spirit of'Eitug j. ;,G ~ ~ nlr;'e~rAo:my Aft6Ar,+l dthw ail .be .befotund in Richmond. tempIisl~ adl,'pp i~rnwhen'.Ik-c ould No;r4 n b n $ ssbul, never-f4nft ovr u ne~wd~1tki~e a ¢ t i~J P I~hI IA,, apit ~itiig,: t e atlnospher we breathee; ' ; di~g~a ~ ?~ ~n ue Jrweewergeiwy the people ire-Resolved, "{No.,',W here dd (btsA-coaodrof ' g f; sf, ilo I" 10_f w$JJ ehW thegr~nd WQrds of Atun m~n U hrAIch- as we' gather round our, magnifio t x national tnoisd, d wxd;1h 3'vc uJ4 seep~s;~t~ti y: 4 +ls re4 s { gh . C U 'T botrttht In fiery flhnie the roof,811h1u1(? thun- "1 us eJihi;tNot 1 hy (do yeualJ 1 I le ir1 0 )i"" R'sit e , hieh ltyY * t k s~u seen duv[ 3'; ^ t y haltt tI~e f t giot uo sould.. upten the ! t S lre c r/qukdy' g f dl he8ri band 4 n s; ' * ' .~i!F'" 2 i* * * andslo~ed swtrexftly f~ier.~ ~Thp gh the rTmpags,,,rpck, beneath us, and ,thie va11s ", , .wL~wu . 3' a G oglg tlis * ar .o~? conifiaritien bellow opeC the sinking r silum'ler ~tp ta? ,ini±d ecis}of n ace uf l aer where the foemn ,111c1 not hadbu aIL liui t rmai. wllgot toy Where the summons never sounded,of thie~fr npet or the shawl andjmin :?°,1 un vc ni ji4s. Eleetra dii,. , t you must stayyout home an rstfr a dad or ; lwead e?~d~ih u t'pwo y "'YOUatr fveidith -, dif lino t wig1h vn- Audthe ashes of tecity be onu iqve s4 l gve i' stla . y imva'lz':~' Irepeat it;} etorunot:the- fate of = Rich- I IiP 'llr i~1onad troubles me-forthave not "a hadow ~t )4 ", . .F i ' i4 - ' dbj atG:1 d *illf~ v ie itx'--btthe 4 % i i s s ''t ha ; r i t h e o g t o ' ' h o v e i i sr e l~ d ~ o lhu f p g WhatVt sal ~iiA&*~btay ro~bkt~iit~tht therstio iotd ; iWawul bvietn u o1-a tou b tth ta i iY =u ;u o. r 3' Yt; fld sg n:Jjh o ,Wrkebfr " yiWraifat lh'ehiijuC W-t h i-~h"t~e fr_"am thee irorWhs dt-da -d, but, h . c: ~far lauv' d pa nthlnguioil o say "Nv' u b'rFWt ,0nr toh nfih o ;s t figilafrxuh a pity jrn ii d~fo t " eaieMdl~ t e SII& s p u i nd "r hle f b e 'ie 1* Iptr a0 uk 4tle f~litioh ait a ei d her apeandsll ot on hishit p "o na' y e al lbg t P~atA isit ? rd~ni ii'til, at .~ lk. l auiaytdfdo ' athese f()movs youso " '«:Jo ,i~,orrmsoe that il~s cJ9r e4urey is mortally 'woiuntl d yp9 , s, t f o r '*i i t 9;;i~u t siie:himi once more.' Her head wcnt down on her hands, and she nr~.Cupa -ioniate y thi o Uan dr. v, ; ar rupd he" '. x. i.A{i. despite 3our 4ln resrvq11an'4 appadit; indif iertitice ?,Ihavee xpefl s ,a era1time~s, bat khan erturbl W s iz r e of yours' 4way ' b, ;~ se " ,' Ieea. Yiot 1,9~P R yoaw4, $e is ' ty 94 your love ;'he is tht only man I ,ntxi rJ would adJ we uoary, rti lP tel me-d-cid Lconar ..ln rwt r" Q,4 4 of u1 ou fection,.t~' Ae1s$ !a o jyou 'to your lonely lot ° {" : i itI9:). iy, K f "n. fa either , d. ancd ht measure., Kii 1 ,- im iiel1 as o,+4 cait ) tt s t" 4ti t, *Ould1vr aow ed hiiu,, t siS ect, the t ,.t "iG4e' e Id' dutjand inuIfilletd it.; that ,gtlie only conso 4- yJ1 I.lvel i. A vIue ope ti+14 .I~'~ z ,tor jAAJrt rob 9j ret1 1wns e4 (o4; )it9r, reflection; anId the debtoi4~ his m gut ipj u1 c l~tu r ri If CtloAuo;11rey y,;'4t pe ndlc~e bfr .wt ich 1 , is tp l rZ-,n g ., , should kespayse ; ' o po e ;, v Y ued these dark a edh rnnr a t 1i "'othongb seRa~jt4e %4ciha1l wid!g"usbrdlliant juar ii" r k he 'must give ,his lift. for"ti A~4 ilea tsl u1 .t ask-,the rlgvI4 uain~a of a + 1rj witti ; pi it "s ; ~$e, r . ~his consolation the bravespiritof my f r uli ,nutLAilol4 t'iqrft04Ai? al o, Ae t~eeu;iVq' ;g can hiuave the right to deny ,)i +' ~ or 4, ka, ll uoly rslu tinn what happesscan the fte ; , God's gloryatid of contributig, a& s4$u O f t *feeble womau e n, ,to b;h bp'i9V 'a r'wat aid ev r ,,u t. ,b tle y, 'xt P1tIng, ty~ aXru i4pie i h uv:e t 1t rir' , ,.,r ti ? # ,cl;Q' u ii rte ' o ° tm the roa0, 'I: Th o r ati 4r ubre j ,htl s l 4 , o n4 s if t60o Wwov a l 4 , 4 r#9yp #,up tisAd lbf 11a5t },J1 ti; I , ir t'4, Vet51lsg I1 and:'[ q ihew4t j~i~ l1 be 11 se 1j mht ~~~L~~~~~j~ 10, nez&P~Aa~ey. awas silnul rly "[ein thebesgy , J ;gbp t t jlQ~Ideq 140140w~ #~o hss4Y*s, , , . k" 1 i^ i ot dakn. fo t1;°ir ktabROtrat r oo, Westver tiide rto dd ft th t t i , ! AVI#99 -MORSIXOMM' ,it t' i page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] ee r e d'lfi 1&of' ' ae' s8t~tionu C~m& it' VAYb eW is badlyfruded. 511'ss command had pj eIt~l tbi u h'i~ii htd dkii~~ eoifillt "Y6ix are gj to faint, Miss Irene! Drink dIftad f h~'s thw~ztd1'1 c, tiI b!ai ' ta tily-iorer"tegre,. hr ifte . iiir t !"N. Tell Anew to go after te r "ig ~ U~tl1ti~llr h~ ies ~ * ~ibkas pbsible, aa:d have t~othr dre i f iI wiT oo-i ,6 id~ieY i edteIl an1 k. UF trnle ipt6code 4rsigtewounds of those who 1Iad bkeirramy b'or,, !' fr _i rit trfnl 11thstrife:" I*e1 i' #n to her , ' apartme', a h; c bj &dlbfiat d, cdifh ' ; t 'nr ht bonniet and veil, i ttl r & le ' n a the "6 'e .ip" Q a iadti si r d * t t( f it1._rMl ch 1 ntet soon aft er, Mrid stated , orzn { ! r t6 a"t l't hi 'sfacer~ l )IMee to4Ard he Aiblte ' btt Wi he .'1 ie, i~e * t d&6s f a4~W " . eA? iir'l l .w ere are ~ l~ed tai ihi 9eh Unit= yoq ping'at this lour Si?."Z Tx , atn d! ' lest; .read , IZ _lft n ' oI t ki/ je°' t mxod~ay wounded, and lIn f ' ~i '',z 10fu j[[(( illu i l moewih: tlWt a s 'v tt a ie 'bd ,I o 4 tJ ' 't~y o6 ohe a' ra'ea / '( yf " . *dt~~n', d s , askli ho } ie tng Dior thee d gay!wit hyt ? r. 1Abn," e ei~d y J qu p t h jii, ddfT'Wim eeism thn ik - tst a~ ~ei a, t rI' ha d bn 'rlniavg or thee datick l d we 'e me, iid t %tit'rvsin lae t e oe C 4T~~M~h Ib tria. wic;s hf Y iri e' f h d oid 'ed eni4 " f If 'r', n oti ec aned 4 ' ,4i b.r r , # tt 1 1 'iUb, hW bmerebr 'fti ie as m' d tt Kali l 6& - 'dxn Wtid d1 ' 4 1, '; ds rfl ' l a ' I reew oth f' i+ .:l, '- "I onl. i.d agli pseaf~ hi, easrter hTbi e d Ia et'tM We do i b* i htours;" 'n ' of, ' diai, h "wtht tdfri ik L tr s*1 4i6*U thV16;e thb°at.' I~4~4~hr i , ssf d h tyhd , d ! Yn~t-uv 6 t ahe. .t' rust ouia , sO d, -1] ' ei'dar 'ctjh t; foi'ii a 1 heh~'Wa1 gdr , ad'ec alasSht_ " f4, y. K a d i~h i tlne' at a"h°*nnldaskbb'x mWI, ei etr n=oug t , ta~lt h e sh 'phcln wfth6ib l "alw t~wd Wi ~t f l esrp =616,u 111011 . 'tionsteKand returningfrohe fel {tiou,. t eel ordipar, sihan e 71 ..qy ,, ~lyjj tt, uit n hbeiflyae'rbid; ad t ee the wayd'siem e'efied e !j d' 4i hy at ' ato tih +.uciia i~na t dh dtr~t k , : 1 { i' t,{ . k'' -i ,n0J 1 ta l f a j l ' ' i - 4l % ?r e k . b161 h ,was.7 I ' 4~ t~ fL )~:vh cud ou~~ti~yn~riieq"i ~~~ CAA. ' . 1.77. . She shrank farther back in one corner, and answered with a voice which he could scarcely recognize as hers., " If you love 'me spare me all questions now. By the glimmer of the carriage-lamps she could see the wagons going to and fro-sone filled with empty coffins, some with mangled sufferers. Now and then weary, spent soldiers sat on the, roadside, or struggled on toward the city which they had saved, with their arms' in slings, or hands bound up, or bloody band- ages across their stern faces. After another hour, when the increasing number of men showed proximity to the scene of danger, Cyrus turned away from the beaten track, and soon the dash of' lights and hum of voices told that they'were near the place of destina- tion. The carriage stopped and Cyrus came to the door. "We are at the lines and I can't drive any nearer. If you will wait, I will go and find master."' It was one o'clock; and as they waited, men passed and repassed with blazing torches, sbme bearingwounded men, whose groans rose above the confusion., The cannonading had long since ceased, and Eric/ called to a group of soldiers belonging to the Infirmary corps., "What is the last news'from the front? Have the enemy fallen back ?" "Not yet; but they are getting ready to run again, as usual. By daylight they will be out of sight, and we shall be all day to-morrow hunt- ing them up. Their style is to fight -about three hours and run the balance of the twenty- four. They take tothe swamps like all other such miserable varments." -., The delay seemed intolerably long, and for the first time an audible moan escaped Irene just as Cyrus came back accompanied by a mutiled figure. " Irene, my child." She leaned out till her face nearly touched Dr. Arnold's. . .-. " Only tell me that he is alive and I can bear all else." " He is alive, and sleeping just now.- Can you control yourself if I take you to him ?" "Yes ; you need not fear that I will disturb him. 'Let me go to him"' He gave her his arm andled her through the drizzling ,rain for sonie distance-avoiding,:as much as, possible, the groups of wounded, where urgeons were at their sad work. Fi- nally, before a small tent, he paused, ;and whispered.: "Nerve yourself, dear child." "Is there no;hope ?" - She agept aside her long mourning-veil and 'gazed imploringly. into his face. Tears filled his eyes, and, hastily averting his 'head, he raised the curtain of the tent and drew her inside. - A candle burned dimly in one corner, and here, on a pallet of straw, over whigh a blank- .et had been thrown, lay the powerful form of the dauntless leader, whose deeds of desperate daring had so electrified his worshipping coin- mand but a few hours before. The ,i0ble head was pillowed on a knapsack.; one hand pressed his heart, while the .other 4rooped nerveless at his side, and .the .breast of hi coat was -saturated with the blood, which at intervals- oozed through the, bandages ,and dripped upon, the straw. The tert was silent as a cemetery, and.not a sound passed Irene'. white fixed lips as she bent down and looked upon the loved face, strangely beautiful in its pallid repose. The shadowy wings of theb :tter By-Gone hovered no longer pver the features, darkening theit chiselled perfection; a tranquil half-smile parted tie lips and unbent the lines between the finely-arched black bgws. Sinlking softly on the floor of the tent, Irene rested. her chin on her folded hands.and calmly watched the deep .sleep. So passed three-quarters of a hour; then, as PLJimold cautiously put his fingers on the pulse, the sufferer opened his eyes. Irene was. partially in the shade,.but, as she leaned :forward, a sudden, bewildered smile lighted his countenance; he-started, up axd extended one arm. "Irene! My darling! Do I dream? 'or are you indeed with me ?" "I have come to nurse you, Russell; but if you do not calm yourself the doctor will send me -away." She took the outstretched hand in both hers, and pressed her lips repeatedly upon it. "Come close to me. I t am helpless now,' and can not go to you." She seated herself on the edge of the straw, laid her shawl in her lap,a tin 'his head,- rested it on the soft woollen fol s. Pr. 'Arnold removed the warm cloth soaked with blood, placed a cold,,dripping towel on .thew gaping wound, and, after tightening the -bandages to check the hemorhage, passed out of the tent, leaving the two alone. " Oh, Irene ! this is a joy I never hoped for. I went at night to the hospital in Richmiond, just to get a'gliimpse of you--to feast my eyes with anothersight of your dear, dearace 1,I watched yo p urperinglihe an angel o geQ and wounded soldiers, and Ienvie' thes the touch of your hand-the ,msund pf ypur voice. I little expected tQ dielin your arms. Tis reconciles me to my 'fate ; this compensates for all!" Her fingers tenderly qhoea4d the black locks that clung to his templ s, and, beid down, she kissed his forehead. 'hs gu'nu arn stole up around her peekdreyr her fie to his, and his lips pressed hers again and again "PIear Urissell; you, pns be quist, or you will exhau$t yourself. Try to sleep;--it will refresh, strengthen you." 1 *,~ , , 4 .r page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 .MACARIA. "«INoting *ill strengthen me. I Jiave' but rated in life; you and I shall be united by death. a shore tiin to live ;'shall I sleep away' th op- Oh, Irene I but for your earnest piety this pbrtinity of m last earthly communion *ith precious anticipation might never have been ou, my, life-long idol ? OI, Irene ! my mine. But' for you, I would have forgotten beautifiti treasure!1' think proof of your love my mother's precepts and my mother's prayers. sweetedis death itself. ,Thete bave been hours Through your i ifluence I shall soon join her (e C iice e parted a year 'agb) when ,I *here the fierce waves of earthly trial can reproached 'you fr the sot ro* and pain you lash my proud soul no more." ' sternly neted out to me adto yourself. When " Thank God!' Oh, Russell! this takes I said bitterly, if she loved'me as she shbiald, away the intolerable bitterness of parting; this she would level all barriers-she' would lay will support me in' coming years. I can brave her hand in mine-.-.glorify my nafie by taking all thingsan future." it as ziy wife and thus defy and acnc'e1 the She saw that a paroxysm of pain had seized past. I was s lfish in ny love ; I.wanted you him. Hi' brow !rinkled, and he bit his-lips in my'home; I' onged for the soft 'touoh of hard, to' suppress a groan. 'Just at thi mo- youffAtigers, for your proud, dazzling smile of mpent Dr. Ariold re-entered, and immediately welcome 'wen the day'&w k was ended ; for gavehim another potion'of morphine. the 'privilege "of drawing you to my heart and 41Aubrey, you mu be quiet, if you woull listening to yo'ir whispered words of encour- not shorten'your life" agement and fond congratulation'on my'suc- He silently endured his .suffering for some cesses. l'knew that this could never be; that, moments, and, raising hi'eyes again to Irene's, your vieration' for your father's memiory said in a tone of exhaistion : would separate us -in'future as, in the past; " It is selfish to make you witness my that tny pleadings would not sh sko your un- torture; but "I could not bear to have you 'fortunate and erroieous resolution ; and it was leave me. There is something I want to say. bard'to give up the dearest 'hope' that: ever while lPhave strength left. How1is liectra ?" bightened a lonely man's life.. Now I kriow "IPartially delirious still, but the doctor Ifeel, that your love is et onge deathless-"as thinks she will recover.' What shall I tell her my' own, though lon loclred deepin your for you ?" '. heart. I know it by 'e anguish in your face, "That'I loved and remembered her in my 'by the uiVerQf your mouth, by your presence dying hour. Kiss her ,for me, and teli her I n thi ace f horrors. God comfortt 'and fell where. the dead lay thickest, in a desper- 4 bless yjott ny own darling i--my(brave, patient, ate 'charge on' the enemy's batteries-that $'aithftil Irene 1' none can.claim a'nobler, prouderdeaththan 'He smiled triumphantly and 'drew'her hand mine-.-tht the name of Aubrey is once more caressingly across hs sheek '. 'glorifled-.-rebaptized with my :blood upon the '4Ru sell, it 's 'ueless' no to dwell upon battle-field. Ireie, she is alone in the world;. our sorroful past; what sufferirag our separa- watch over and love her for my sake. Doctor, tioli has cast mare 'one but my God can ever give mesotne water." know. His hands I commit my destiny, :As the hemorrhage increased despite their and ITe oetlh all things mellt' In a little efforts to staunch it, he 'became rapidly weak while you will' 1eave ie, and then-ohi !i the er, and aoon fter, with one han l16ked in I' lfll.ieutterly desolate indeed!. But I can. Irene's, he fell asleep bear:loneliness--.I can Wlk my' dreary earthly "She 'sat; 'motionless, supporting his head, path ncoinplairlngly ; I cagive' ,ou up' for uttering no sound, keeping her eyes fixed on "the sake of 'm y country, if 1 have the bl ssed his upturned countenance. Dr. Arnoldwent assuranc0 that, you have, only hattemied home noiselessly in and out on various errands of before me aitang for 'e there =th t saved money ;' ocasionailly- aixions, weather-beaten through 'Christ',we shall"Oon meet in heaven soldiers 'softly'-lifted the curtain of the-tent, and spen9. Eternity tether' Oh, Russell! gazed sadly, fondly, on the 'prostrate figure of can yo ve "me this 'o9isolatiah, without the beloved commander and turned 'away which my tues b e dar tindee'd? 7Have silently, withtear# trickling down theirbronz- yoi kept youi proise,-to live so that you ed faces. Slowly' the night waned, and the coidat last eet the 'yes .of your Gtod in shrill toes of reveille told that another day peace " "', ' h .d risen before the 'murky, sky brIgtened. a ae, Iaterhaverstruggled against the Hundreds, who had' sprung upat't atc 4evMed tgeoenish theiditiN' feligs jof theIr gore, sleeAn 'their last 'slep where iny hea; nd hav 'conscientiously tried to neither the sound of fI and runi1 no the nr y duty to mfnfellow-creatnress to msy battlecry of comrades, would eve i-duse them, comn; alid my comitir. 'I ham r ead' the froin 'their final'est beore Mavaran Hill-'' bible you gave me ; and, dearest praying ?va1t which' winds Walled a frequien,lanid trAil- for o have learned 'to ay fo'yself. in ,yfuipping cloudo'settld like a palE' 1'"i Through Jesus, I hlave sure 'hope of hapi- 'he bustle and stir of amip 'Mreased as ness beyond the grave.' There, though sepa-" preparations were made to follow the foe, whoQ MACARIA '179 had again taken. up the line of retreat.; but .within the tent unbroken silence rejgned, It was apparent that Russell was sinking fast, and at, eight o'clock he awoke, looked uneasily -around hun, and said feebly,: " What is going on in front ?" "McClellan has evacuated Malvern Hill and, is in full' retreat toward his gunboats," answered the .doctor. . "Then there will be no more fighting. ,My shattered regiment will -rest for a season. Poor fellows! -they did their. duty-nobly yes- terday. Tell my men for me that I am inex- pressibly proud of their'- bravery and their daring, and that, though my heart clings fond- lyto my gallant regiment, I glory in the death I die-knowing that my soldiers will avenge me. Give my, love to one_ and all, and tell them, when next ,they go'into battle, to:re- member' him who,.led their last: charge. I should like to have seen the end of the strug- gle--but Thy will, oh, my God!1 not mine."', He lifted his eyes toward heaven, and for some moments his lips moved inaudibly in prayer. Gradually a tranquil expressionget- tied on his ' features,. and as his eyes closed again he murmured faintly; " Irene-darling--raise me a little." They lifte.f him and rested his head against her shoulder., Irene ," "I am here, Russell; my arms are:around you." She laid her,cheek on his aud' listened to catch the words}; but none came., The lips parted once, and a soft fluttering breath, swept 'across them. Dr. Arnold put his hand over the heart-no pulsation greeted, him; and turning away, the old, man. covered his face, with'his handkerchief. "Russell, speak to m* once more." There was no sound-no motion. She knew then that' the soldier's spirithad soared to the 'shore of Everlasting Peace, and thatnot until she, joined him there would the loved tones again-smake music in her heart... She tightened her -arms around the still form andnestled her cheek closer to his, now growing cold. 'o burst of grief escaped her, to tell of agonyand despair: aBut ike a statuS solid set, And moulded in colossal aimn she sat, mute and resigned, at the foot of- the " RedDripping Altai.t',patriotism, where Slay, in hallowed Sacrifice, her nobde, darling DLead. . nthe inornaig-light hey;' face looked rigid, pallidas his, and tie tearlgsbut indescr ibabl mournful eyes were riveted on his placi, handome features. Eric and yiarvey.Young stood in one coraer,of th teatry'wping ay ,,tears 'which would got..b~ restrae and finally Pr Arnold stooped and said fat@ep "My dear child, e~ime within me1 now." . She did not seem to hear bim,i and he re- peated his words,,trying, at the same time, to unwind her arms., She yielded, and with her ownhaud~ oth- ed out and cut a lock pf hair that waved over his gleaming forehead. , Leaning over hya, she kissed the icy, lips; then rose, and clasping her hands, nm rxnured : " Farewell, my own brave aussell !'" The minister approached nd etobd-befoe 'her. She lifted her an dry fce,.and, as she' put out her arms to him, a wintry smile fli ed over the mouth that had see n4 frozen- " Harvey! Harvey 1h'wasm y' all! !e was the idol of my childhood! ant girlhood ! and womanhood 'Oh I pray forme that1 may be patient and strong in my great desola- tion. * * C * * Electra's speedy convalescence' repaid' the care bestowed upon her; and.one'oaf trn on, ten days after quiet hadagain settled around the Confederate capital, she insisted'on being allowed to sit up laer than' usual, protesting t at she would no longer lbe regarde as a inm-' valid. " Irene, stand in the light where I can se you fully. 'I-ow worn and weary you:look! I suspect I am, regaining myhealth at the, ex- pense of yours." pno; I a ouas well in body as f'could de- sire; but, no doubt, ny, a xiety. has left its traces on my countenance." She learned over Zlet a'echairand stroked back the artist'ssl inir hair. " I wish you 9ol let ne 'see p e~pes, - yeyes are strong, enough now, and I want to kni 'exactly what hitaken pia", every- where 'duing mp sickness It seems eto 'e possible that .reneal ees aiy an eClellan's nuellopnger without bringingon' a battle, an am so anxious about ssel If he should l,+,hurt, of course, I must go, to ,him. It is very strange that le hasnot written. .dre you sure no, letters'oarefr me 'hre are letterse, I am'sue;but:I have a message for you. iveuseen once since you were taken sick I i "Ah ! what is it? Ih leard'-that'1 was. ill, and dame to see me,I bsuo When e here ? Irene bent downand'kissed her cd d on tremulously, saying sowly- trmlulsyn lwy," He. desired' me'to' kissyou for',him. ] lec- tra, I hvye not old' yourlbfore, 1liecdne feared the effect upon yon in your weak state;' but there havt ben, de bts aond Richnmond duriu ' your ! n ess, an. r Gls have been defeatedpven.ack to James standi all now! Whr jsae~ fJ, ~he ipran up5u~t a deatlike pallor6e- page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 MACARIA, . sere her face and she tottered 'to the open ported to the Army of Tennessee, and air and Iene follow dththi sunshine entered umpeded. Electra sat be- hee flb uthee tn figure, and, putting fore her canvas in this room, absorbed in the her. rms about her, made her lean against design which now .engaged every" thought. he w w The witchery of her profession had woven its "Hen was wounded on the last:day, and I spell about her, banishing for a time the spec- went 'to' see him ; you: were then deljrious.". tral Past, " Let p-i ; . ' - him t Lme go at once1 I will not 'disturb 'The extension of the Consription statute him will control myself! Only let me see had, several months before, deprived Irene of him o-day " a valued and trusty overseer;. and to satisfy gEe tr' you n 'not see him. 'He has herself concerning the charam'ter of his succes- gpe' to hi God'; but in. his dying' hour he sor, and the condition ofaffairs at home, she spoke of yoebtldly,. sent love, and" and her uncle had returned toW-Tsl, bring- The briield, trooped, shivered, and fell in~ Electra with themm; - * ack insens~Jle in Imene's arm~s.' Irene stood on the colonnade, leaning over ea as the swoon that it seemed as the back of Eric Mitchell's arm-chair, drop if her spirit had fled to join her cousins 'in ping crumbs 'for the pigeons that cooed and endless union; but at length consciousness re- scrambled at her ftet,and looking dreamily turned, and with it came the woful realization down the avenue at these band of orphans who o h A long, lwWailrose and fell had just paid her a visit,.and were returning upbit the air like the cry from lips of feeble, to the asyldmi convoyed by the matron. suffering, helpless children, and her head sank "What contented-looking,'merry little chil- upon tite' 'ehouler of the sad-faced nurse, dren those are," said her uncle, watching the Whose grief could find no expression in sobs, or small; figures diminish as they threaded the moans, or tears. ' ' avenue. "'Dead I dead ! 'a-naenue. fa d! ea ar d I shall see his dear "Yes; they are-as happy a orphans'possil- face o ?re !'Oh! why did you not let me bly can be. I love to look into their smiling, die, too? What is my wretched life worth rosy faces and feel their dimpled hands steal now? One grave might have held us both ! timidly into mine. ',But, Uncle,. Dr. Arnold My noble, eerless Russell 1 the light of my has finished his nap and is waiting for you." Withay l TGod! be merciful! take me She gave him 'her arm to the library-door, " iy idol! Take me. now i" saw him. seated zconifortably at the table, Very tenderly and -caressingly' Irene en- where the, doctor' was examining a_ mass of davored to soothe her-detailed the circum- papers, then.joined Electra in the parlor. stnce l of her cousin's death, and pointed her "What progress ar'you making, Electra.?" soulftaia enion.. Very -little. I can't work well to-day. ut no rift appeared in the artist's black Ruskin says that no artist has fully grasped or r ho sorrow; she had not yet learned that,.in matured his subject who can not quit one por- drawin near the.'hand that holds the rod, the tion of it at any moment and proceed to the bo lightened and she bitterly demapded completion of some other part. 'Doubtless' he of her Maker ;to he released from the burden is. correct ; but I am -b haunted by those-blue oflifec eyes that Ican paint nothing else this after- "Electra, ;hush your passionate cries! crush noon. Do you'recognize them ? Yours, Irene. kno r drethlofus words.' Your 'heart Forgive me ; but I can find no others, in im. " ow' t dnoedepth of agony which mihejhas agination or in life, that so fully express'sere,- o sound ,and et, in this season of ity. My work -has taken marvellous hold h, ,rs 4 w -tassel is taken-'from us both, upon me; ,sleeping or *'aking, it follows,,pos- I look Upon his gravO aid feel that, sesses me, ,I shall not hurry myself; I intend -t ' .,: l" , r an strong, that the execution shall be equal to My ideal-- i g ye are n pt lost for aye aminh and that ideal entirely worthy of the theme. I n , with last nea nh aGodkeepsa niche want to lay my 'Modern Macaria,' as the In 1*9aven, to hold our cols:and albeit "Jamy dr lacraste bke then tb our fees. and denied first offering of Southern Art, upon my coun- er cloe eokiscs should impair their white, try's altar, as a nucleus aroundwhich nobler k we shall behof d them bisedacomlete, ' and grander pictures, 'from the hands, of my b di lt swept'frgma'heir heauty..-glorified * ' New Memnons, singing in the great God-light"' ., countrymen and women, shali cluster. In sunny climes like ours, my glorious.Att had its birth, its novitiate,-its apotheosis; and'who HAPTER XXXVI. - dare say that fatr ages shall 'not find..Art-. The Nh ofStudents fromall nations pressing, like pilgrims, Theugsunlgh of a warm spring day flashed to ther Perfected School of' the 'Southern thruh te open wndow, andnade ag ~en States? Ancient repubhcs'offered premiums, 'ee aery ttt t' Hle d' 'ortits abid saw the- acnme of tnhe 'artS; why not our- dfth aas ic.iigon Hi- Thj gost- Confeder~te republic, When days of national y cinto dairs foeraias had Ion since prosperity dawn upon us? If the legisla' be~ ut it sir~ o the soldiers an~ trans- ture of each 'state would' annually' purchase, I I for the embellishment of the galleries and grounds of its, capital, the best picture or statue .produced within its borders during the twelvemonfhs, a generous emulation would be encouraged, Our marble-hearted land will furnish materials, which southern -genius can mould into monuments of imperishable beauty. This war furnishes instances of -he- . roism before which all other records;pale, and our Poets, Sculptors, and Painters have only to look around.theim for: subjecs {which Greek or.Italian.'Art would glorify and immortalise. "' I do distrust the poet who disderna No character or glory in hid tunies, And trundles back his soul dvn hundred years.' " Our resources are inexliaustible,-otr capa- bilities as a peoplenihmited and te regqiie only the fostering influences whichh Cosmo De Medici 'and- Niccolo Niccoli exerted in Flor- ence, to call int9 action energies and latent talents of which iwi are, as yet, scarcely con- scious. Such patrons of*Art and Literature I hope to find in the pldtatprs of the Confedera- cy. They have wealth, leisure, and every re: quisite Adjunct, 'adsfpon them, as a class, iust devolve this lgborof love-the accomplishment of an American, Renaissance-the develop- ment of the slumbering genius of our land. Bu,rke has remarked: 'Nobility is a graceful ornament'to the civil order; it is the Corin- thian capital of'polished society.' Certainly Southern planters 'possess all the elements of tilis highest order of 0social'adrchitectu e, and . upontheir correct appreciation of"the grave re pnsibility attending their wealth and in- fluence depends, in great degree, our emanci- pation hom the gross utilitaiianism which has Sithertcoharacterized us, and our progress iii refinement "and tsthetie culture. As *e are distinct, socially aid pblitically, front other na- tions,'so let us be intellectuallytand artistically. The world has turned its back upon us in i ur grapple with tyranny; and, in-the =hour of our triumph; let'us not forget' that, as we won In- depender1Oe'without aid or syinpathy, so we can maintain it. inall departiments." * "Electra, in order to effect 'this ' consum- mation devoutly to be wished,' it is necessary that the primary' branches ofArt 'should be popularized and thrown opento themasses. iI /contends, in his Political Economy, that the remunerationt of the ebuliar Oenployinehts of womep s always far below"that of mploy- ments 'of equal' skill caried an 'b3 "re,,f and he finds an explanation in 'the 'fact that they are overstocked. Heftet;in 'improving the condition of wamen,it is advisable to'-give them the readiest access to'independent'inr. dustrial pursuits and extend' the 'itcle' of their appropriate occupations. Our Revolus tion has lheggatd thousands' anrd depriVd many of their nktnial' provides; nutnbe& of wbiren in the Confedefaey 'will 'bC'tiro~fi entirely 'upon their Own~iesourdes fbr ntai@ tenance.. All can not be' nuii-nmhkers, milliners, or .school-teachers; and, in ordei'to open for them new avenues of support, I have 'determined 'to establish in.W-- ' school of Design for women-similar in" lan, though nore extensive, than that founded ome'years agq by Mrs."Peter, of Philadelphia. p T'd up- per portion of the 'building will be arr&e d for drawing-classes, 'ood-engtavinfg, and the various branches'of Design ;' ard' th 'lovef, corresponding iii si e and generalappe& i'e, I intena"afor. a c'rculatig-librai foroi county. tOver' that School' of'Design" ant you to. reside' our talents, 3our Iaddea- ti r olrdevotion to °iu rti yoi~cu liarly for' the' position M i slr r hb sieh as, to compensate'yat for your de i'e ; ind, when calmer dayg dawn upon us,' ie' may be able to secure somhe very valuable lecturers among our gentlemen-artists. 'I have 'a large lot on the 'corner Vf Pine stteet and Hurntingdon avenue, opposite the 'eour - house, which *ill be a fine Ietion'for it, and I' wish to appropriatO)'it t 'this 'feirpoes. While ou ar adorning the inteip ofrthe buildigg' the'walls of which are to contain frescqb of dome"of the most linpresie sceness of ourRevolutior, I will emnbellish thi'g1bunds in front, and 'make them myspeli charge. I understand the cultivation of flowers, though the gift.of painting them is deniedie Yes- terday I sid'my diamondeOr' a much larger amount thai'I supposed they would contMiand, and this sum,'added toother funds noy at 'ny disposal, *111 enable :me t-, ac lishthe scheme. Dr. Arnold and Uncle e 6 dially approve my 'plan, willul ,idme- very liberally, and as soon as tranquilt t!i' restored I shall succeed in erecting;'the building with= out applying to an one ele 'for aistatie. When your picture 'is finished, I wish you to make me a copy 'to be hung up in out School of Design, that-'the studenits'ma;be' constantly reminded of the debt of gratitude wewe our armies: How lifelike your figures grov; Iocan almost see the4iivter of that'*ifb whitd lips and heat the 'dishl -howlih g of'the deadinan's dog". The canvas, which she leaned forward'to inspect more closely, contained an. allegorical design representitl, in the'foreground, twe female figures. One steiei yet noblb~faturad, crowned with stars-triuipk and exultation flashing ify the luiinods eyes; Zdependence, crimson-mantled, grasping- t ,he 'op e Banner'of the Cross, whose 'vird folds streamed above 'a captured "battery; where a Federal flag trailed in the ldist. "At her side stood white-robed, 'an ell Peace, with one hand -over, the ten 'hho~e of othe cannoh . against which she lean d, ad the other. ez- .tiended in- benedictienn 'Vividly the fae'es' 'contrasted.-aevill itob ith nationMl pride~ beaming with 'brillant 'destiny, the other wonderfully sernie andl holy. 1k thn dlitancd, MALARIA. 181 page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 MAC gleaning in the evenin light which streamed fro4 the west, tents dotted -a hill-side; and intermediate between Peace and the glittering tentsstretched a torn, stained' battle-field, over hjch the rgar and rush of' conflict'had just swept, leaving-iangled heaps of deadin attestation of its fury! Among the-"trampled, .b9.9y sheaves of wheat, an aged, . infirm Nidbe-mother bent, in tearlessanguish, yress- inlher chapd upon- the puisel'ess heart of a handsome boy of sixteen symmrs ,whose' yel- 197 locks were dabbled frim his i.ath-wound e. ;.steps. farther, a lovely' young Wife, kneeling;beside the stalwart, rigid form of her husband, whose icy fingers still clutched his broken sword, lifted leer woful, ashen face to heaens in mute despair, while-the fair-browed infant on the ground beside her dipped its ljttle-snowy,. dimpled feet in a pool of its father's ,blood, and, with tears of terror still glistening on its cheeks, laughed at the scarlet coloring. Just beyond' these mourners, a girl Mof surpassing beauty, whose -black hair floated like"a. sble banner: onthe breeze,.clasped her rounded argis boit her dead patriot-=Iover, and %he ft her sad vigil in voiceless agony- with all eC'Sparta's stern'stoicism in beif1blanch- ed, 'st9ny, countenance.. And, list of the stricken groups, a faithful dog, crouching close to the corpse of an old silver-haired man, threw back his head and howled in desolation. Neither' blue shadows, nor' wreathing, rosy mist,,nor golden haze of sunset glory, softened' Keacrificiai scene which showed itsgrim features strangely solemn in.the weird, fading, crepuscularmiigbt. . "How-many months do you suppose it will require tp complete it ?" asked Irene,-whose5 interesk,;in'the picture was scarcely inferior to that'of itscreator. " ; I work steadily-upon it, I can soon-finish it;' but if I go with you to a-Tennessee hos- pital, 1 must, of..course, leave it here until the war ends., After all, Irene, the joy of success does not equal that. which attends-the patient working. Perhaps it is because 'anticipation is the 'purest part of pleasure.' I love pny work; no maor woman ever loved it better; andyet their is a painful -feeling of isolation, of loneliness, *hieh steals over me sometimes - and chillsall,my enthusiasm. It is so mourn- ful to'know that, when the labor is ended and a new chaplet encircles my brow, I shall have no one, but you to whom I can turn for sympa- thyr n 'my' triumph. If I feel this so keenly now, how shell,I bear it when the glow of life . fades into sqber twilight shadows and, age creeps upon me ?, "'Ormy God! imy God i.- o suprente Artist, who, a sole return ,,.. For all the cosmic wondlpr of Thy work, . * Demianid t of usjust it word-a name, " Mi FathieW'--thou hast khowledge-'only thou, flow gkesry 't is fotrwomen to sIt stiil On finr niht bsoiayfr, ARIA. 'She threw down her brush and palette, and, turning toward her companion, leaned her purplish head against her, " Electra, it is very true that single woman have trials for which a thoughtless, happy. world hashlittle sympathy. But lonely lives are not necessarily joyless ; they should be, of all'others, fmost usetl. The head of a house- hold, a wife and mother, is occupied with family cares and affections-can find little- time for considering the comfort or contribut- ing to the enjoyment of any 'beyond the home- circle. Doubtless' she is happier,' far happier than the unmarried woman; but to the last belongs the privilege of carrying light and blessings to ma'ny'firesides-of being the friend, and helper of hundreds; and because she bt longs exclusively to ,o one, her heart expand to, all her su firing fellow-creatures. In my childhood I always thought of Old-Maids with a sensation of contempt. and repulsion ; now I regard those among them.who preserve their natures from cynicism and querulousness, and prove themselves social evangels of mercy, as an uncrowned host of martyrs. Electra, re- member otler words of tie same vigorous, gift- ed woman whom you so often quote : "'And' since we needs must hunger--better, for -man's love. ThanGod's truth! better, for crpanion sweet, Than great cnvictious t let us bear our weights, Preferring dreary hearths to desert soui - ",Remember that, the woman who dales to live .alone, and be sneered at, is braver and nobler and batter than, she who escapes both in a'loveless marriage. It is true.that you and I are very lonely, and yet our future, holds much that is bright. You have the profession you love, so well and our now School ot Design to, engage your thoughts; and I a thousand claims- on my ~time ; and. attention. I, have Uncle Eric to take care of and to love; and Dr. Ariold, who is, growing quite infirm, has promised me'that; as soon as he can be' spared from the 'hospitals, he will make his hone with us. Whn this storm of war has ppent itself, your uncle's family will return from Europe and. reside here with you. Harvey, too, will come to W '=to live-will probably take charge of Mr. Oampbell's church--and we shall have the pleasure and, benefit of his constant counsel. If I could see you a member of thgt church I should be better satisfied-and you wouldbe happier.". "I would join, to-morrow, if therdby I could acquire your 'sublime faith and strength,,and resignation. Oh, Irene I my friend and com- forter ! I want ,to live differently in 'future. Once . was wedded to life and ,ny Art--pre- eminence i my profession, fame, was all that I cared to attain ; now I desire to spend m remaining years .so that I may meet Russel beyond the grave./ His death broke .the ties that bound me to this world; I.live now in hgope of reunion in God's eternal kingdom. I MACARIA. - have been selfish and careless and complaig- ing; but, oh! I want to do my whole duty henceforth. Irene, my calm, sweet, patient gnide, teach me to be more like you.". "Electra, take Christ for .your model, 'in- stead of an erring human being like-yourself, constantly falling short of her own .duty., With Harvey to direct us, we ought to accent- plish a world of good, here in sight of Russell's. grave. Cheer up I God's great'vineyard stretches before us, cdlling forlaborers. Hand in hand we will go in and work till, evening shades close over us; then lift up, in: token Of our faithfulness, rich ripe clusters of purple fruitage. You and I have much to do during these-days of gloom and national trial-forupon the purity, the devotion, and.the patriotism of the women of our land, rrot less than upon the heroism of our armies, depends our national salvation.. To jealously guard our honies and social circles from the inroads of corruption, to keep the fires of patriotism burning upon- the altars of the South, to sustain ,and en- courage those who are wrestling along the. border for our birthright of freedom, is the: consecrated work to which we are called; and, 'beyond this bloody baptism open vistas of life- long usefulness, when the reign of wrong and tyranny is ended, when the roar of battle, 'the blast of bugle,- and beat. of drum is hushed among our hills, and Peace I blessed Peace ! again makes her abode in our smiling, flowery' valleys. Hasten the hour, oli! my God 'I when her white wings shall -hover over us once more I" The eyes of the artist went back to the stainless robes and seraphic face of her pictured Peace in the loved "Modern Macaria," and, as sha resumed her work, her brow feared the countenance kindled as in days of yore bitter memories hushed their moans. and fell asleep at the wizard-touch of her profession ,and the stormy, stricken soul found balm andrest in. Heaven-appoie'd L~abor.. Standing at theback of Electra's 'ehaif 'with o e hand resting on her shlder, Irens raise her holy.violet eyes-and looked through the window toward the cemetery;where ghit tered a tall marble sijaft which, the eitigens of' W -.-- had ereted overthe last quie 't. ing-place of RussellAhibrey;. Sands:of Tline t were driftingstealthily around.thedruiibling idols of the morning of life,'levelling andten= derly"shrouding the Past, but'soaow left its softening- shadow on theorphan's countenance and laid its chastenin fi ngea .abbu 'thehli which, meekly murmured, "' Thywill be ,o r ' done."' The rays of theta setting .duagilded her nourning-dress, gleamed -in the .white' roses that breathed their perfume in, her ripplg hair, and lingered :like a benediction onthe placid, pure face of the'lonely woman whhad survived everysehrthly hope;,,and whoealnl fronting her Altars of Sacrifice, here'dedioated herself anew to the hallowed work 'of pio voting the happiness and ghlddening the paths of all wh0:journeyed with her dowrn the chequered aisles ofTnie -iuThe Womac, risei to thy peculiar and best altitudes * Of doing good and of endur ii' Or cootortiog Jor ill, and teaching. food, r~'". And reconciling al that ill and good' Unto the patient e of constant hope:' -enceforward; rise. apre . To all the calms an, .~agnanimities, ' - he ofty uses a a noble end.- Thesanctiied devotion and full work, To which thou art elect for evermorel" ,'Y . - At' f f} 'v~ t!'f e ' .k ' 1 f }'rir l f '.E _ ,! i ' ' 1 ..j', I s , _ _ i.
