Nemesis
page: 0 (Cover) [View Page 0 (Cover) ] NEMESIS. page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] NEMESIS. "THE MILLS OF THE GODS GRIND SLOWLY." BY MARION TAARLAND,. AUTHOR OF "ALONE,' 4 HDDEN PATH", '"MOSS-SIDE," ETC. DERBY & JACKSON, 498 BROADWAY. NEW YORK: 1860. page: 0-v[View Page 0-v] ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by DERBY JACKSON, In the Clerk's Offce, of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. W. H, Twsbn, Stereotyper. Gzo. RUSSBLL & Co., Printers. INTRODUCTION. THE household critic, to whom the following story was submitted in its chrysalis state- i. e. in manuscript-has left here and there in the margin bold pencillings to the etfect that such and such passages are"Improbable.", Now it strikes me as a singular circumstance that this objection is brought only against those scenes, incidents and characters, in which I have copied with most fidelity events and persons in real life. And I aver, furthermore, that in most of these cases, had I dared to set down the exact truth, the verdict rendered would have been "Impossible,' instead of the milder form of doubt given above. ^ Many years since, the germ of this narrative was Wom. mitred to my keeping by a dear friend, who has since gone to the far, changeless 'Land. Much that I have written I have gathered from MSS.--family papers, yellow with time; for several items of information, I am indebted to persons still living, whose memories age has npt clouded. I do not pretend to say that my tale is a literal transcript of the live of the various personages introduced, or that. I have not interpolated characters'and events-taken an author's liberty- : * ** , ^ ,P page: vi-7[View Page vi-7] Vi N E E SI S. with dates and denouements; but that I had a broad basis of fact for the foundation, and in my superstructure, have drawn less upon the imagination than is the fashion of some so-called biographers, in their veracious memoirs of modemrn celebrities, I may, with truth, affirm. In some scenes, the very words of the original actors have been employed, and even in the minute details of dress, equipage, etc., I have taken great pains and pleasure in portraying things precisely asthey were in the places and times described in my book. MARION HARLAND. *witerAs, Jzmy 1860. NE ME S I S. CHAPTER I. THE fogs of a November afternoon were thickening, with the chill'of approaching evening. There were ominous murmurs among the pines, and the almost naked boughs of the oak and hickory shivered and sighed) as they let down, now and then, a stray leaf, to decay peacefully with the companions of its summer revels, or'be trampled into the deep mire of the public road, which formed scarcely a break in the forest. The wheel-ruts had cut into the roots, and vehicles had grazed the trunks of the giant trees that locked arms across the highway s Yet it was no newly-opened track. The upper stratum of earth, black with R. richness from the deposits of a thousand autumns, was worn down to a more durable bed of stiff red clay, of a granite-like smooth- hness and polish in dry weather--now, tenacious as wax to wheel and hoof. . A shallow creek, widening into a pond where it crossed the' road, was cloaked by underbrush up to either edge of the woobds, A flock of wild turkeys, headed by a portly gobbler, bearded like a despotic Turk, as he was, picked their daimtyway through the stream--each pausing to wet his bill. Then, the bushes parted page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] NEM ESI. to afford egress to a deer-a full-grown, antlered buck, who also stooped to slake his thirst. His lip had barely touched the water, when the graceful head was suddenly raised again. For an instant, he listened, his dark eye bright, and his limbs quiver- ing with excitement-and a bound carried him out of sight and danger. Now, the sound that had put him to flight became audible to duller hearing. It, was the measured tinkle of bells, wondrously musical in this lonely spot. Nearer and nearer it came; drowning the sullen gurgle of the creek and the hoarse whispers in the tree-tops, until, on the rising ground, beyond the pond, appeared a wagon, long of body and heavy-wheeled'; cov- eredwith an arched awning of white cloth, and drawn by six horses. Strong and trained to labor as these evidently were, it was no easy task to drag along the ponderous vehicle. The broad breasts of the leaders were flecked with foam, and their legs stained above the knees with the red mud. At the pool, they. checked their steady tramp, from instinct or habit. There was one prolonged thrilling peal from the bells attached to their collars, and they awaited patiently their master's pleasure. It seldom pleased him to move rapidly, if one might judge from the very deliberate style in which the rotund figure swung, itself into the: road- from th6 sheepskin, strapped upon one of the wheel- horses, and the length of time that was consumed in stretching and rubbing the dumpy legs. "Can I help you, Mr. Paxton?" inquired a cheerful voice from the interior of the wagon. Without waiting for a reply to his question, a young man vaulted over the saddle just vacated, and stood at the side of the fat teamster. He was an athletic, well-proportioned youth, of perhaps five-and-twenty, with a ruddy cheek, and a frank, intelli- gent countenance. His accent at once betrayed his New Eng- land nativity, as did that of the wagoner the provincial Virgnian. ' N E M E S 9I 8 "I'm obleejli to you, Mr. Hale. If you'll be so good as to unhitch that bucket"--pointing to a bespattered pail swing- ing between the hinder wheels--" while I take this 'ere one, why, we'll git through in half the time. 'Many hands make light work,' as I've heered my ole woman say. You have got no objection to hurryin' on things a little, I reckon?" "None, I assure you!. I am beginning to fear that night will overtake us before we get to our journey's end; the roads are so heavy." "Don't skeer yourself about that! But ain't I stiff in the jints 1" groaned the teamster, lifting his bucket to the leaders mouth. "I camp to-night better'n a mile t'other side of your house, and I'm bound to be thar by dark. We ain't more'n two miles from Mr. Argyle's, now." "Do you hear that, Bessy?" said the young man, nearing the front of the wagon. A face appeared in the semi-circular gap of the canvas' cover. It was a female head-girlish and pretty. "Did you call me, Mark?" "Yes. We have not quite two miles further to go, little' woman. That is good news, isn't it?" "Ideed it is!" she responded, joyfully. "It is getting-chilly, and I am uneasy lest Kitty should catch cold." She: bent anxiously over a bundle wrapped in a shawl, that lay 'acrosse her.. lap. "I hope she will sleep soundly the rest of the way." "She'll be mighty apt to. The bells are as good 'as hoptea for puttin' the children to sleep, my ole woman says," remarked the driver, climbing back to his place. "Many's the trip to town and back she's been with me, with a young one on her knees, and two or three more, bigger ones, tumblin' about over the boxes and barrels, in back thar-and she never lost a day's work. It was sewin', or knittin', or cardin' wool, or somethin' of the sort, all the time. I tell her, she'll take her loom along, 1* page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 NEMESIS. S some day. A powerful worker, she is-if I say it, as shouldn't say it. Ain't you goin! to get in, sir?" ":I believe -not. I will walk on a little way. My legs are cramped with sitting so long." The bells jingled; the massive wheels creaked, and the weary, patient animals, with bent heads and strained sinews, began the ascent of another hill. Mark Hale sprung nimbly past them; reached the summit and-ran down the further and steeper side, to find still another and a more :formidable eminence before him. Upon the top of this- he, stopped, to watch for the reappearance of the, to him, rihly-laden vehicle, for it contained his earthly all. A summary review of the circumstances which had brought him thus far from the home of his forefathers, will be all we need relate of his previous history. He was the son of a revolutionary soldier, who, at the close of the war, had returned to his native village and Cformer trade-that of a shoemaker. In this humble calling be had: labored-until his death, leaving to his son very little beside an unsullied name ; a plain English education, which the boy's inherent love of study had made unusually thorough for one in bis. station, and an experimental knowledge of his father's handi- craft. Nothing daunted qt his unflattering worldly prospects, Mark married, before he wa twenty-one, a girl as poor as him- self, to whom he had been attached from childhood. Bessy Bryan brought to his cottage a loving heart, a pair of willing and skillful hands, and a blind mother, for whom the young couple cared tenderly during the three years that remained to her upon earth: after her removal to their home. Besides Bessy, she had one other -child, a son, considerably older than the- faithful daugh- ter., But "poor Jacob Bryan," as his best friends called him, was; an easy, good-natured' fellow ; energeticwithout judgment, active without . acuteness--just the man to work himself, into -difficalties, and trust to luck to help him out of them. By choice h of the N/I EMESIS. t 1 he became a peddler, and in this capacity travelled thnrough seral of the southern States. On his first trip home, after his mother's decease, he found- his brother-in-law feebly convalescent ^from .a spell of rheumatic fever, and persuaded him to accompany:him on a tour through a more genial clime. Mark came back to his native place, well and strong, and fired ' by ambitious visions of the advantages to be gained by emigra- tion. Without a complaint, and; so far as& her: husband saw, without a tear, Bessy packed-up the limited-number of flmovables she could take such a distance, and bidding farewell t-to he-:iends of her childhood and to her parents' graves, said inpirt, if not in words, to' him who was now her. only stay in life, :": iW ther -thou goest, I will go." Her husband's observation and inqtitires during his former journey enabled-him to fix without delay upon a location. When his plans of removal were definitivelymiare, he wrote to a fellow-northerner, a!resident now of the neifibor- hood he had chosen as the Canaan of his exodus, whhose cquin't ance he had made while at- the South, and requested--iimto pir'.o- cure a house for him. As good fortune ordered, thppstei#r iad on hand a " commodious cottage " to rent out, he Saetmg.. .t for its owner, a gentleman now travelling abroad. - b:4- was concluded by letter, and this spot our young co uple- re approaching on this- murky afternoon. , . Mark's adventurous and- sanguine spirit did not flag nnder the discouraging aspect of the weather and the change:in the- coiry 3t he remembered as so beautiful in the flush and glory of the spring-time. He acknowledged indeed, to himself; thati he wdnid not have been so easily fascinated by the situation he had selectd, had he beheld it first in circumstances similar teothe presieit; bat since the irrevocable step was taken, his:choice, made with -affll conviction that he was acting wisely, inreference to ::o future, and that-of those dearest to him, he gtiloitty resoli Ito abide by it, cheerfully. There was but one shade of soeliide t . .' .. page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 -N EtM E S IS. upon his heart, and this, although banished from his face, as the lumbering wagon rocked and groaned up the hill, lent a softer tenderness to his voice, as he addressed his wife : "This is not just the country, you expected to- see, from my description-is it, Bessy?" The troubled look in- her eyes accorded illy with the smile she forced to her lips. "It will look better in the spring and summer, I dare say. But, Mark, dear, where do the people live? I have seen but one house in the last ten miles." "They don't live near the main road,' said the driver ; "it's too pabic. We all down South belongs to the modest sort." A laughing gleam from Mark's eye brought a real smile to his wife's cogntenance. He knew that she was thinking with him, that they ha&d met but two teams and three foot-passengers, dinrg six hours' travel upon the- route, objected to as "too . public:' . "There are by-roads leading to the plantations, crossing this in al directions, you see, Bessy. We shall be at no loss for neighbors, even if they are a little further off than those we have been accustomed to at our old home. Very kind people you will find them to be, too," he added. Besy bwed her head at the mention of their old neighborhood. She seemed intent upon drawing the wrappings about Kitty's curly headd; but his own memory was too truthful for him to do0Ubtt iecau se of the dimness, he was sure was over her eyes. Resumig his seat beside her, he put his arm around her waist, and both were quiet and thoughtful for a while. And for that while, neither beheld the unfamiliar and actual scene: in )their sight. They gazed fondly instead, upon a little white cottage, a story and a half in front,; sloping down in the rear util a tall man could hardly stand beneath the eaves; and thegesat apple-tree shading the kitchen window; upon the N EMESIS. , 13 broad door-step, where they had played at houskeeping when children, themselves; where the-:bride had sat in the summer twilight to watch for her husband's coming ; where the youthfuI mother had dandled her babe, and the young father sustained its tottering trial-steps. There, on pleasant days, was set the grand- mother's arm-chair, and the sunshine fell warmly through the elm boughs overhead, a welcome bath- to the trembling limbs and form, although her eyes could not perceive its brightness; and over it, in a tearful silence,- unbroken, except by-the tread "of bearers and mourners, neighbors and friends-synonyms amoibg that simple people-bore to her final, rest the6 mortal remains of the aged pilgrim-thank Heaven, sightless no longer-l Tlhe l6ht- of love, the baptism of tears had made that worn, grey stoine a sacred spot to the wanderers. In the yard, they never &ream:d was not "modest," because it lay along the village treet/-were' flowers and trees of their own planting. Henceforth strangers were to enjoy their fragrance and shade. The bees tenanting te : row of hives, in the possession of which Bessy had esteeed :i her- self passing rich, would hum and store honey just as busi;y, nitw that she would not profit by their hordes. ; The church green was a convenient and inviting picture to onee seated in the cottage door; with the weeping elmns trailing-over the roof and latticing the windows of the ancient building, whose heavy frame and brown oaken pews had beenwhrought from Eng-.n land-the villagers were fond of relating. On either sid6, and behind it, lay its founders and the majority of the congregations that had gathered within it prior to the present generatin!; the memory of their names and worthy deeds! kept alive,:less by the quaint stones that marked their pillows, than through the tra:- ditions treasured and told with love and pride, by their de':end- ants. ' " - It was a dangerous-indulgence of fancy on Mark's'part, and he felt the ill- effects of his indiscretion- i the drei e fhit felle page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] NE ME SI f - upon him, like the November fog, aiid the struggle it cost him to maintain a show of'composure, much less of gaiety, when the teamster, pointing with his long whip, remarked, "Yonder's your house, Mrs. Hale 1" Bessy leaned forward eagerly, as did Mark. "Where?" asked both. Just 'cross that field, in that clump of trees." ^"That!' said Bessy, incredulous. "Mark! can it be?' :"It must be, dear. Mr. Paxton told me that he knew the place, and had heard through Mr. Sancroft, that we had rented it." "It ain't so sniptious as you expected, I reckon," said the wagoner. "It's pretty 'nough situation, but it may be, you'll find the house sort o' out of order. Mr. Argyle, he built it for his overseer, and the man lived in it six months, or so. Then Mr. Argyle took it into his head that it was too far off from his place, and Mr. Frisbic's old mother, who kept house for him died, so he'd no reason to stay there any longer, and was willin' to do what his employer wanted, which was, to have everything under his own eye. Let him alone for 'making every edge cut,' as my ole woman says. And Mr. Sancroft-his agent-he's just as sharp and close. Maybe, as you are a Yankee, he'll favor you. He came from Connecticut-where they make clocks, you know." "I hope I shall need no favoring at his hands 1" returned Mark, with some stiffness. Then ashamed of his boastful pride, he continued, pleasantly, "I guess we shall not quarrel, if I pay my rent, and don't worry him for too many repairs." "Oh you'll get on 1" But the honest face " reckoned" there might be other causes of dissatisfaction. "The old gentleman-Mr. Argyle is mighty well off," he said, sheering away from the agent. "He owns nigh upon two thou- sand acres of land, and niggers more'n enough to work it, and has moneya .plenty besides, they say. But for all that, a shillin' piece looks as big to him as it does to you or me. His wife was NEMESIS. a different kind-free-handed as he'd let her be; good to poor folks, and one of the religiousest ladies you ever seen. Her darters don't take after her, I've heered tell. 'Master Malcolm- he looks like her, and behaves like her, too-much as a wild boy can like a perfect lady, as she was. But deary me I as my ole woman says, ' It takes many sorts of people to make a world,' and 'boys will be boys.?" "I thought the family were not at home," said Mark, more to cover Bessy's silence, and to prevent any attempts at -consolation from Mr. Paxton, should he notice her, than from interest in his landlord's domestic affairs. "So they aint I The old gentleman, he's in Scotland, whar his father came from, and he, too, for that matter, when he was a child. The two darters, they're at the- North,- somewhar, at school. Thar warnt no schools in Virginny fine enough:for them. They're highflyers, I tell you I Master Malcolm's at college in Williamsburg." "The house is shut up, then?" "All but the housekeeper's rooms. Whoa! gee what are you about thar? You see "-to Mark-" they aint used to goin' in here." The elephantine wagon slowly and painfully, as it were, turned into a side road, better than that which they had heretofore trat veiled, inasmuch as it was a gravelly soil, and its ruts were less deep. A few hundred yards brought them to the house they had seen across the field. It was built of hewn logs ; one story in height, with a door and a window in front. Thee was no inclosed yard or garden, and the half dozen fine oaks that embowered it in summer, were now no improvement to its desolate appearance. "Here we are, Bessy, dear 1" Mark held up his strong arms with a look that was pitying in its affection, when he meant it should be. joyous. ", Welcome to our hut in the backwoods!" as he lifted herto the ground. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 N EMESMS. Bessy had alighted ankle-deep in the dead leaves, and for a j moment, their rustle was his only reply. Then, she took her child from the wagoner's arms, and presented it for its father's kiss, ! "Mamma and Kitty are very glad to get home at last!" she said, smiling bravely. K Dead leaves everywhere I but in the corners of the zigzag fence that bounded the road on one side, and against the walls of the house, they were heaped highest, while, in the road itself, there whirled along, ever and anon, a twittering shower of them, before the wind, like a flock of frightened birds. -"The door is open, I see," said Mark, pushing it wider. "Never had no lock on it, I reckon!" was the reply of the wagoner. "If you're ready, we'll tumble out your -things. I wi'si I could stay and help you get to rights, but I must be travelling." Bessy bestowed a glance upon the dismal interior of the dwell- inhg then turned away, and gathering a pile of the dry leaves at the leeward end of the house, she deposited her child upon the soft-cushion, tucked a blanket snugly about her, tied her hood more tightly under the little chin, and gave her aid in remov- ing the lighter articles of their luggage. There were not many parcels, and the work was soon done. After infinite trouble, whoa-ing and gee-ing, and backing in , I the clearing around the cabin, the horses, and the moving moun- tain attached to them, faced the main road once more. "I wish you luck 1" said the driver, heartily, when he had received his fare, and the thanks of his late passengers. * Even his dull imagination recognized the forlorn expression of the picture before him; the heap of household goods that could i furnish but scantily the rude hut that made the background; the group standing among the withered leaves; the child, blue with cold, and telrrTied by the strangeness of its surroundings, clinging to its mother's neck; the wife, pale and wistful, her lips closed ( NEMESIS. . 17 firmly, to repress the emotion that might seem to reproach him who had brought her hither; the sturdy husband, perplexed and serious, under the weight of the responsibility he had assumed, but never before felt so heavily as at this moment; and over all, the darkening grey of the low clouds. "I'll call in when I pass this way agen," adventured the team- ster, by way of alleviation to their discomfort. "Don't get, homesick-no more'n you can help, I mean, of course. 'Put the best foot foremost,' as my ole woman says. 'What's done can't be helped I' as I've heered her say a hundred timnes, I reckoh. Wish she w/as here I She'd tell you just what to do--get you all straight in less than no time." That night, as he slept in his four-wheeled tent, his 'horses tethered about it, and his bull-dog at his feet, doing double duty as guard and foot-stove, he was awakened by the roar oftheras. on the canvas cover. "I'm afeered they're having a hard time of it 1" he muttered, . rolling his huge body over for another nap. "Better have stayed where they come from, if 'twas Yankee-land!" page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18, NE-M E S I S. ... i CHAPTER II. ; "Now, then, Bessy, for work 1!" Mark ended the mournful pause, during which both had; listened to the last dying tinkle of the distant bell that sounded like a farewell message from the civilized world. With a deep inspiration,. he cast off despondency 'and homesickness. "We will not be down-hearted, dear, while we are left to one Mother, and Kitty is spared to comfort us both. Suppose we examine the inside of what, forlorn as it looks, we will make a home of by and by. It, was a heavy draught upon Bessy's loving faith in her hus- band's word to credit the possibility of this latter clause, as she stood in the centre of the principal room, and gazed around her. The walls were tolerably sound-that is, there were not many fissuresathat admitted the outer air and light, but the inner plas- tering had crumbled and fallen in'a number of iplaces, displaying the shingles and sticks with which the edifice was "chinked." The bare beams, black with dirt and smoke, as was also the floor, were overlaid by loose planks, forming a loft, gained from below, by a rough ladder from which half the rounds were missing. The fie-place nearly filled up one end of the apartment, and the day- light glimmered down its capacious mouth upon ashes and charred i pieces of firewood, extinct months before. A row of shelves, to the left of the chimney, constituted all the furniture and culinary conveniences of-e establishment, and these were only undressed planks, supprlid by pegs driven into the logs. . g i N E M E SIS. 19 "This il .the kitchen, I guess," said Bessy, opening a door leading to a back room. But it had neither fireplace nor stove. A small, unglazed window allowed unobstructed passage to the wind, and the gaping cracks above, below, and at the sides of another door, completed the process of ventilation. This, -too, Bessy unclosed, and beheld about an acre of ground that seemed. to have known tillage and inclosure at some remote date. Not far from the house, and, each at the foot of a tree, were the remains of a hen- coop and pig-sty. "What dirty people they must have been 1" said our New England girl, with a curl of her pretty mouth.. "I don't wonder that Mr. Argyle wanted to have them under his own eye 1? - "We .ill show them a different style of living," returned Mark. ':"ext summer, we will have a fence and a garden, and chickens, and a pig. You have enough Irish blood in you-to make the porker a necessary appendage to your faily; ;fe bu e need not have his sty directly under our chamber Window. Instead of that, we will plant roses and morning-glories." Bessy was passionately. fond of flowers, and she looked brighter at the mere imagination. Mark followed up' his advantage. "And we have all the winter for getting things straight within-doors. The first step is to make a fire. There are dry sticks in plenty for the kind-w-- ling. Fuel is not scarce hereabouts, however pressed 'we may be for other comforts." . The hearth was speedily clearedand a fire crept brightly among the crackling twigs, then caugnt the larger logs: M-ark had, - picked up about the premises, While her father--and: mother- - were bringing in their boxes and bundles, Migs Kitty sat upon a - roll of bedding, laid against thieb wall, for her accommodation, I still muffled in the shawls that- concealed:-her enly : excepang - a pair of cherry lips and 'neat little nose, straighte and sensible, s- " page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 N E M E S I S. e I and two black eyes, that saw and wondered at everything; especially were they attracted by the merry leaping blaze that grew redder and stronger as the evening became darker. She would have liked to be" nearer to-it, but " mamma " had bade her sit still, and babies thought it no hardship to obey their parents in those days of primitive ignorance, when the hint that Solomon and Paul were " old fogies;" would have been regarded as irreve- rently presumptuous. I! Thus, it was not until the last package was brought in, and the rickety door excluded some of the unwholesome dampness, that Kitty was promoted to "mamma's" knee, and her wrappings removed, with a kiss and word of praise to the " best little girl in th'e country." iIf the mother had added, "and one of the pret- tiest," it must have been a critical taste indeed that found fault - with her partial judgment. Short, sunny-brown ringlets covered a head, formed with the elegance of outline and proportion that gave herhother, although but a shoemaker's wife the air of aris- tocratic breeding. The father's smile rarely left the black eyes, and the fervid Irish blood, of which he had spoken, colored the rotund: cheek. - - -i "Mamma!" said the little three-year-old, ' where is -this?" "This' is home, my daughter," replied Bessy, steadily. Another dubious look at, floor and ceiling, and the confused mass bf articles that busied her father ; and the lip curled just as : the tidythbusewife's had done, at the proximity of the pig-pen to the bacCk door. . "I don't like it, mamma I 'Tisn't clean!" "Her mother all over I the particular little minx i" laughed Mark. Bessy answered more seriously. "But when it is clean, you will fiiid it a nice place, Kitty. Mamma will fix aseat for you, and give you a piece of bread and butter.? Then you will sit still, and let me help papa-willyou not?" "- ] -NEXM E SIS . .21 "Yes, ma'am," sighed she, meekly; and while- the work of unpacking went on, she remained quietly perched upon .a chest, munching the hard biscuit that was to be her supper. "Papa," she said, at length, "may I please have a drink of water ?" " Certainly, my darling." "But where is the well ?" exclaimed Bessy. "I have not thought of it once I How singular that I should have forgot- ten it P" "The spring is at the bottom of the hill, behind the house," answered Mark. " I will step out and get a pailful of water."? " I thought perhaps the overseer's family managed to live with- out it," said Bessy, mischievously. " I am suce the supply must be very small." "I will find enough for Kitty, and for our cup of tea," replied Mark, lighting one of the pitchpine torches, with which he had supplied himself, in conformity with a suggestion- of his friend, the .wagoner. Bessy stooped again over the box of housekeeping utensilsd and crockery. The next thing that came to hand was drawn forth with the utmost care. Kitty's eyes flashed recognition. "Grandmamma's clock 1" she cried. "Where did it come from ? Oh, mamma, do make it strike 1" As much to gratify herself as her child, Bessy set it up on one ' of the shelves, and applied the key. The works were all Mi order. The lively pendulum commenced its " tickety-tick 1" and as Mark entered, the shrill bell rang out seven o'clock, for Bessy could only guess at the hour. t "That is a welcome sound I" was his exclamation, and for a time the three stood, looking at the well-remembered face and listening to the familiar music, with equal and childish delight. "The place is not half so lonesome now, as it was l" said page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] N E M ESIS IS. Bessy, going back to her work. "It reminds me so much of the dear old kitchen at home I" Hands and feet moved to the rapid beatings of the blithe monitor on the shelf, and Kitty, in default of more interesting amusement, watched it, until her eyelids fell together. " Papa's blessing I" murmured Mark, taking the yielding form into his arms. "She has had hard travel and hard fare to-day. Loosen her clothes very gently, Bessy dear. I am glad that we can make her comfortable for the night." This was not an unfounded congratulation ; although the little one's bed was made within one of the packing-boxes, instead of the roomy crib of polished wood, which had held her from the hour. of her birth until the day they quitted the homestead. It cost Bessy a severe pang to part with that; but it was really less necessary to' them than many other portions of their furniture; and " something must be given up," she reminded herself again and again, when her desires threatened to get the better of prudence and expediency. They had brought but one bedstead, and when this was set up in one corner of the room, a well-used, but white and clean table in another, three wooden chairs and a stuffed easy one, disposed here and there, a chest, a trunk, and Mark's bench and box of tools arranged against the further wall; and, upon the shelves, the clock, a churn, and a few vessels for cookery and table use, the house was furnished. There were still unpacked a small lot of books, a picture or two, and some bits of carpeting ; but these, it was resolved, after a second and closer survey of walls and floor, should remain in their hiding. places, until certain necessary processes of purification were accomplished. " Eben Dwight could not have made me a more useful present than that set of carpenter's tools," said Mark, as they drank their creamless tea, and ate the bread and cheese, delicious in N3iE M E S IJ. 23 relish, after their day's labor. " I shall have to wait a bit for business to come to me, andl this will give us a fine chance to right up our establishment. CNot very stylish now, it must be confessed;" and he smiled. "But' everything must have a begin- ning,' as my ole woman says, and 'a bad beginning makes a good ending.' ' Bessy's merry laugh chimed in with his, at the successful mimicry of their late travelling-companion. And just at this moment, there pattered upon the roof the heavy rain, that, as we have seen, disturbed the slumbers of Mrs. Paxton's exem- plary husband, two miles further on the way to his often-quoted spouse. "That same 'ole woman' must be a second Book of Proverbs," continued Mark. " I guess she is a pattern wife and mother," said Bessy, a"nd a good neighbor. I wish she were not twelve miles off. And Mr. Paxton himself was as kind as kind could be to us. I was sorry to part with him. We need the advice of somebody used to the customs of this country. I wonder, for instance, where we are to get milk. You and I can! live without it; but Kitty ought to have a little." "By and by, we will have a cow," said Mark. " By and by is not now," objected the practical and less hope- ful wife. " Meanwhile the little creature will suffer." "She shall not-never fear. I will see Mr. Sancroft about the milk. As our temporary landlord, he must feel some interest in us; although I can't say that I agree with him in calling this a 'commodious cottage.' He lives only a couple of miles from this, and Ben Lomond, Mr. Argyle's house-is hardly half a mile up the road. We shan't starve, depend upon it. Work is plenty, provisions are cheap, and fuel is to be had for the picking up. In these immense woods back of us, thousands of trees rot yearly, and the ground at this season is covered thickly with page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 N E .M E S I S. kindling-wood. You and Kitty can gather enough fagots in one morning to last us a fortnight; and in the same 'time, my axe and I can provide heavy logs to burn for a month-and without ever felling a tree. This is the compact between Mr. Sancroft and myself. I am at liberty to use whatever I find already fallen. It was my notion, and he raised no objection. Then, he ensures me the entire custom of Mr. Argyle's planta- tion, where there are nearly a hundred persons, white and colored, and promises to speak a good word for me in the neigh- borhood. He is getting rich, they say; yet he left Connecticut fourteen years ago with just seven shillings in his pocket over and above the cost of his passage and that of his wife and child. This is a great country!" "I hope he got his money honestly," remairked Bessy, drily. "It is very likely that he did. A man who understands his business, and is not afraid to work, cannot help getting along. By the time our little beauty is grown, Bessy, you and she will ride past this hovel, in your coach and four, and forget that you ever lived in it."' Bessy shook her head, in smiling doubt; but the pictures drawn by his ardent,' buoyant spirit were always pleasant to her mental vision; and too probable as well as too attractive to be altogether disbelieved. The weather continued lowering, with frequent showers, all through the three following days. The work of " righting the establishment" went on bravely, notwithstanding the state of the atmosphere was unpropitious for house-cleaning. The cottage had one architectural excellence-a chimney with a good draught; and its ample jaws were kept constantly supplied, for the fire had much to do. A large kettle of boiling water hissed and bubbled there, all of three days, and was replaced on the fourth by a pot of whitewash, compounded according to Mark's peculiar recipe. A small glue-kettle was often upon the embers; their frugal N EME S IS. 25 meals were prepared there, and a strong, steady heat was re- quired to dry the room after- its repeated scourings. They were tenants of their new house- nearly a week, without seeing a white neighbor, excepting a quiet, stupid bachelor farmer, whom Mark recollected having met on his former visit to the South. He lived in a house, scarcely superior to theirs, a mile distant, on a small farm owned by himself, and in the tillage of which he was aided by two or three negroes. He rode by the Hales' door about sundown of the day succeeding their arrival, and Mark made bold to answer his stare and bob of thie head by stopping him, and inquiring whether he could supply them with milk from his dairy. . A prodigious deal of explanation had to be employed to convey to the interior of his thick skull the idea that the strangers kept no cow; did not intend purchasing one for the present, and there- fore desired to buy milk, and to pay for it in money.-pence aid shillings. The case was unprecedented in his not exitewivexpe- rience. Finally, the clear tones and explicit terms -:f ihe ew Englander established the point in his mind, and a bargai was struck, that was satisfactory to both parties. ' - "I am afraid he will not sleep a wink to-night," laughed Mark, as the rider of the scrubby pony moved off, shaking his head from side to side, and turning his body in - the saddle every - other, minute, to look back at the man who had just named and-desed such an arrangement. - I He is half-witted, I think," said Bessy, who had been at once an amused and vexed 'spectator of the scene.- "I -don't believe we will ever see a drop of milk from his cows e ' But, the next morning, Kitty ran screaming from ier looklut at the door, atd hid behind her mother, who was getting break . fast. Bessy could not chide her cowardice,- when isfe saw its - ' cause-the :ugliest, blackest, -most ragged- fegro:- uhrchii she ad- ever beheld, grim in the doorway, holding out a wooden pail, page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 NEME I S. "Here's yer milk l' he said. "Want de piggin 'gin!" '/ What!, ejaculated Mrst Hale. 'Mark, do come here 1" Mark entered from the inner room, and after questioning the boy, interpreted his remark to mean that the pail-" pigg in. Virginia parlance--was to be returned by the bearer. It was a clean; cedar vessel, covered with a white cloth ; the milk was fresh and rich. Bessy almost forgave the stupidity of the-farmer and the apish: appearance of his Ganymede, in her enjoyment of the nectar. The boy was a, good-natured fellow, and so far from bearing Kitty any grudge for her impolite reception. of him, brought her atr apple that evening, and the ensuing day, a small bag of what he called " goober peas "--alias peanuts-volunteer- ing the information that she was "a mighty pretty little gal ;" thathis name was " 'Pollo," and he " wasn't gwine to hurt her." ,Thait child makes friends everywhere," said the- laoving -T h disdain this ray of sunshine, albeit the reflector was ! it As cleanliness was restored (it seemed- r acreed) Bessy's spirits reached their accus- tom e 'her old home, she was often likened to her pet bees. e e said she had watched and tened them, and studied 'their ways of life and work, until she had learned their rfmotions and their music. The brisk pendulum, ticking with all its little:might, upon the shelf; the: spark of light caught on its bright, face, lengthened into an arc by its swift swing, was the only t ing in her household that vied with her in lightness and speed. As we said, just now, they had been a week in their log. domi- cile. -It was a mild morning- in balmy Indian summer, that witching,.lovely twilight of the year. Doors and:windows were open, for the fire could not be allowed to go down. upon ironing- dwy. --The smoky rafters, and the broken walls had been white: washed ; the floor, by dint. of countless scrub'bfps was almost as N EMx B 18. . 2T clean as the table and chairs, and. bore upon its sanded surface the regular and graceful waves it was the pride of skillful house- wives to trace with the broom, when its commoner offices were done. The bed was nowhere to be seen, andtin its stead -was another row of shelves; the lower honored by holding the set of real china, which had descended to .Bessy frai her mother; the upper, being occupied by their library, neither very select nor very new, but by no means contemptible, in an age. when good, books brought almost their weight in silver. The old shelves had been taken down; the rough splinters and dirt removed by Mark's plane, and then readjusted into their'places, in a -more workmanlike manner. The window-panes, four in number, which, they found opaque with dust, were now transparentand shining, and over them parted a snowy curtainl Two black profiles ,of Mark's parents graced one wall; a print of -Ch ssi children another. The bench and toodwere st ae . of the room, biding the time for their use. . A - whistle sounded from the back yard, whe e wood. Kitty nursed a wooden doll with ex seated on a stool in the sunshine, that- fell b fthe door, and her mother flitted back and forth betwee]nig board and -the fire. Upon a, rude clothes-horse of Marks;- con- struction, hung an array of garments, warm from-the rapid touch that had smoothed their damp creases, and their numberws-Were - continually increased. - She was a well-built figure, this shoemaker's wife; rather..above the medium height of woman, with a round, pliant form,'coquet- tishy displayed by the checked short gown, girdled at the waist. :. Her sleeves did not reach the elbow, and the arms they left;su- covered, were :marvellously reserved 'touching the ,wash. th and , a the fire, so soft and white were they, in their plumpness. The abundant dark hair was:combed quite away from the r ,o eheeks: and slightly flushed: forehead; her profilee was marked, yeth :eS, #:' .. . q r2 wt page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 N E X E S I S. cately cut; and, as she stepped to and fro, her blue. skirt per- mitted a critical view of two'small feet, arched in the instep, and 'incased in neat high-heeled shoes. Mark was very fastidious in the matter of his wife's shoes. In short, but for her dress. and occupation, she might have been mistaken for a titled dame, ;who, having lost he y:ay and her retinue, had chanced upon a peasant's cot. . For aught we can say to the contrary, Bessy Hale may:have come down in a direct, line, from the magnificent, but somi&what apocryphal race of Irish kings. To appease the prejudices of those who scout at Nature's letters patent of nobility, unless the same have been ratified by the signet of man-appointed royalty, we admit our ignorance of our heroine's pedigree, further:back than -the sturdy Celtic -iather, who fought the tyrants -of:his native and ofi adopted country at Lexington and Bunkek igll. The sti lt blood pd breeding, who can trace patrtidan dves c pt Hb of an ear; descry the lees of a plebeiansstck in; X jH i gi ve Bessy the benefit of the uncertaiySo' fraig^^l ^lit one thing we do stoutly maintain; wMhali er migU Hfity of the blood stirring so warmly in herS, it suffFBa egradation by her alliance with the manly .fe , whose axe was flashing over his head, with every second: ringing notes sounding back sharply from the hills. It'dr.*d the noise of approaching footsteps, and the knock again'uis t door-post. . ;; , "Mamma!" said Kitty, plucking her dress. ... ' '- Bessy turned and saw a gentleman standing upon the threshold,- Hastily setting down her iron, she advanced, blushingly, to-mietf him. . s "Mrs. Hale?" said he, inquiringly. f .. .- i "'Ye, sir." . . :a;: "My name is Sancroft, Mrs. Hale. Ihope you are well ta - fine morning, madam-. OIs your husband at home?" ' '; NEME SIS. 2s Bessy offered him a chair, and summoned Mark. "How do you do, Mr. Hale? hww do you do, my dear sir?' cried the visitor, shaking hands. "Happy to welcome you',ts the neighborhood I And how did you bear the journey? And yop madam, did you not find it fatiguing at this- season of the year? And this is your little girl! Shake hands with papas.:fiend; sissy. What is your name? Hard at work, I see, Mr. -le, Yankee energy in full blast--hey?1" "I find plenty to do, certainly, sir," replied Mark.' i :.;: "I should think so, indeed, Mr. Hale," casting .is seyres :abw : the homely dwelling. "I would not have believed, if I.. . .^ - seen it with my own eyes, that a place could have undergone suei: : a transformation in so short a time. Mrs. Hale, you are a necro,: mancer. It is not every woman who wields such a wand as yours. Mr. Hale, are you sure that her broomstick is not enchanted? And it is really all your own work? I should h know the old house. We are not used. to these reformatio r part of the world, Mr. Hale. Indeed, we are n a st not make your neighbors envious. I shall . il 1 other tenants upon my back, for all this, un legt trumpet it abroad that it is your matter and not i , I wash my hands of it. How did you' do it? when :did. youad itf {.FI -should have been over before, but have been away from hime, ever since your arrival. You came last Wednesday-hey- ' : ' "Yes, sir," Mark contrived to say, not daring to look atBews, - who was'the picture of puzzled wonder. . .. ,.* "And this is Tuesday I Why, yes, ofcourse-TuesdayI I S ,t:': let me hinder your work, Mrs. Hale I I perceive that;yot :^ ' accomplished laundress. So is my wife, I am a famil ' - self, my dear madam, and have a realizing sense of the]"i' t. ance of house-work. A very fine child, Mr. Hale. .::tr' r- age, did you say, sir? I have six children-.the poor" is8& rug, you know, sir. I 'dare say, now, you found as mfici, if- nott . ," page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 N E M E S I S . more--though that does not appear possible-to do in the other room-hey?" "a You can judge for yourself, 'sir," returned Mark, leading the way, with pardonable pride, into the smaller apartment. The whitewash brush had done its duty here, also. The win- dow-frame was supplied with glass, which the provident Mark had foreseen would be of use to him "in the backwoods." There was the bed, with its thick blankets, gay patchwork coverlet and irreproachable pillow; and at its foot, Kitty's packing-case, raised by blocks of wood several inches above the floor; a chintz valance tacked around the top, and concealing the inele- gajnt nature of the contrivance. Another box, set up on end, and similarly attired, was the wash-stand ; the curtain :concealing the convenient depository of shoes, etc., thereby formed. The rest of the floor was hidden, with its inequalities and cracks, by mats maintde of many colored bits of cloth, first tacked together in-long strings, which were braided and then sewed into circular, oval or squa re W t as a cheap, unique, and anything but unsightly carpe foot, and exceedingly durable. The cracks at the edges door and casement were closed by strips of coarse list. Mr." Sancroft raised his hands and eyes in amazement, that might well have been unfeigned. Y"You will do, sir! you will stcceed in life, Mr. Hale I Never - give yourself one particle of uneasiness on that score. I am proud of you as a fellow Yankee-indeed I am I And how about the wood, Mr. Hale? I heard your axe, as I rode up to the door. Quite a pile, already, I see, sir," his gaze darting at each, stick withai keenness that ought- to have saved the axe further trouble that day. '"-Anid actually -a pile of' fagots i A sight I have not seen before in seven-n sein seventeen years I ' Let me handle one fir old acquaintance' sake. And well tied -up they are: too-quite NEMESIS. 31 scientifically. You are no novice at the trade, Mr. Hale. Ah, me I how it reminds me of the times when my brother and I used to take our lucheon with us, and spend the day in the woods." He put the bundle of sticks back, with a profound sigh, "Pretty spot here for a garden, Mr. Hale. Rich earth, good exposure, well-drained, not too dry. You'll make it smile next summer, 'l be bound, sir, blossom like the rose-hey?" "If I can get it inclosed, meanwhile," said Mark. "That is one thing about which I wished to speak" "Of course I of. course I it must be fenced in. There was a noble fence, an eight-railer about it, not three months ago. What am I saying? Less than two months since. I remember the circumstance distinctly, having examined the premises thoroughly during our correspondence concerning the rent. The - thievish negroes have been preying upon your property already, it seems. As the nights grow cold, they lay hands upon every rail and plank they find loose. You must be on your guard, Mr. Hale. When you put up another fence, procure a dog- fellow. I have a pup that will suit you to a T--sharp:"as?imeat axe. But where are the outhouses? The rascals have not spared them either. I am surprised they left the chimney or the roof. - You will form a bad idea of our neighborhood, Mr. Hale. I am sorry for all this--indeed I am, sir. - Let me send you the dog-forth- " with. - "I think, sir," Mark would say, "if you will repair the mischief to some extent-say, build me a fence, I care not how rough, and one or two sheds, I will not trouble you to put up the , dog-kennel. All minor repairs, as you have seenr, I am willing to make atlmy own expense." "I see, sir, I see I I honor your independence, Mr. Hale. It is worthy of the land of your birth and breeding, sir. -Rest assured that, in my next report to Mr. Argyle, all these things page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 N E M sIS. shall be properly set forth, and no appeal of mine be wanting to ensurb the success of your application. Mr. Argyle is now abroad, you-are aware, sir." "Yes, sir, and I had supposed that in such trifles as these, you might be empowered to act according to your own dis- cretion." The agent raised his shoulders and -eyebrows. "Mistaken, my dear sir, mistaken I Mr. Argyle is a wonderfully punctilious man. Mint, anise and cummin I You are a Bible scholar, like myself, Mr. Hale, and understand the allusion. I shall make it my business to write to him immediately. May I ask the favor of a drink of water, Mrs. Hale?" They were now back again in the front and larger room, and remarking upon the heat of the day, Mr. Sancroft unbuttoned and threw open his great-coat, seating himself, as he did so, in the easy-chair. He was a tall, spare man, apparently from forty to forty-five years of age, with lantern jaws, very closely shaven, as was likewise his chin; a mouth, that whether speaking or shut, was always smiling, and a narrow, steep forehead peaked very far up over the temples. His hair was bushy and prematurely grey; so hoary, that it contrasted curiously with a pair of black eye- - brows, which were, by far, the most expressive and remarkable feature of his face. Rapidly as the tongue moved, sudden and frequently ludicrously abrupt as were its transitions from one topic to another, the eyebrows were never caught tripping. They admired, wondered, regretted, argued in exact time with the words that streamed forth so glibly beneath them. They were not still one instant while he was speaking, and their incessant play would have driven a nervous man to distraction. In very animated, periods, not content with moving themselves, they lifted the scalp with them, and then Mr. Sancroft's iron-grey forelock seemed to retreat to the crown of his head. He was an endless talker--would ask a- dozen questions in a breath, without appear- N EM E S I S . 33 ing to expect an answer to any one of them, and just when the listener was not looking for him to pause, would bring up "all standing," as the phrase is, with his "Hey?"-eyebrows and tongue at a dead lock, until the startled mind of the questioned person recovered itself sufficiently to make reply. This habit,. combined with his incessant and marked repetition of the names of those whom he addressed-a practice, then, as nowf affected by the underbred and pompous; and an original style of emphasis, referable to no law of sense or elocution, and which, having given a specimen of it, we shall, to spare the printer's italics and- the reader's patience, leave to the imagination for the future, all together, sent Bessy out of the room and out of the house. Calling Kitty to accompany her, she went down the hill to the spring, and did not return until the ring of Mark's axe advised her that the coast was clear. Husband and wife exchanged a look of amused intelligence as their eyes met, and, flinging his axe aside, Mark followedc Bessy: into the kitchen. In their honest souls, they never thought of calling it a sitting-room, although they had no other. e "Well, Bess?". "Well, Mark 1" She was holding a dipper of water to Kitty's lips, roguishy . unconscious that he was awaiting a further reply. . . . "What do you think of our landlord?"Marlk was obliged to ask outright. "Mr. Argyle I I never saw him," was the demure rejoinder, .as she restored the dipper to its nail, . "Nonsense, you tease I How do youlike Mr. Sancroft?" .' 1 "Not at all " . Mark's face sobered. He had expected her to make sport of their queer visitor, but had. not anticipated the dislike expressed " in her words and look. He knew and- respected, his sensible, I spirited wife; valued her sound intelligence and warm heart,-but' 2* - - 3 page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 'N E X E S SIS. he had had to deal, ere this, with her prejudices, and the experience had taught him to dread the thought of her forming others. Not that he, himself, had any especial fancy for' Mr. Sancroft; that, at the bottom of his thoughts, there was not an irritating sense that he had been egregiously duped by his representations, with regard to the hovel rented to him under such a specious title, but since it was too late to repair the mischief, no good could arise from entertaining unfriendly feelings toward the agent. "He is odd in looks and manners," he said, "but these are things we may laugh at, without blaming him for what he cannot help. He means well, perhaps." "I suppose he does--for himself 1". answered Bessy, re-sprink- ling:the clothes, which had become dry during the ill-timed call. "He has a flinty face and his heart is harder." "Little woman!" said Mark, in mild reproach. "That is not quite charitable. You judge harshy of a man, with whom you have but an hour's acquaintance." "I wish,it were all I am likely to have 1"Bessy retorted, will- fully. , ; "But why?' Bessy put her iron down, deliberately, and confronted her hus- -band. "I will tell you," she began, folding her arms, and beating a tattoo upon the lower with the fingers of the upper hand. "In the firstplace, he has 'kissed the Blarney-stone,' as my father used to say of such talkers. I always distrust a flatterer. Give me an honest tongue--I don't care how blunt it may be. Then he took too much pains to convince you that he did not feel above us. He was proud- of you as a brother Yankee-and all that flummery-:a sure proof that he believed himself to be your supe- rior, 'though why he should do so, I am sure I cannotc tellR -the little princess digressed to remark, standing considerably higher N E M E s IS. 3 in her trim shoes. "He has scraped together a few pounds more than you have, it is true, Jut I'll warrant, he had no more money when he was your age, than you have now, and in everything else, you are worth five hundred of him. Didn't you notice what he said about the fence and outhouses? Don't you see that his aim was to prove that the premises were in good order, when you rented the place-the wonderfully commodious cottage, of him?" "But what signifies that, if the repairs were needed when I took possession?" "He would make it out that you took- or, that he gave pos- session at once; that the premises passed out of his care into yours, the day the terms were settled. And wiho can contradict this? We found the house all open, you remember. It may have been unlocked for three months. Mark my words 1 When that garden is fenced in, you will do it yourself. Those she'y will never be built, unless you put them up. His talk about writing to Mr. Argyle was a poor trick, to shift the weight:frim his own shoulders." She fell to ironing with a bustling show of diligence, but in a minute faced about again. "Then, couidn't a child see through all that stuff about the fagots and his brother and their luncheon and old times?" "I didn't-and I am hardly, a baby." "Didn't you engage to-cut and gather dry wood and sticks 7 If there had been ten drops of sap in that pile of logs, his hawk eyes would have counted them. His only reason, -in coTning here to-day was to see what kind of tenants we were likely to be. He is sure of one quarter's rent, since it was paid in advance, but he keeps a long look a-head. Now, that he is convinced that we' are decent and industrious, and not disposed to ruin Mr. Argyle, by cutting down his timber, I hope he will be remarkably scarce of his eyebrows here. And what a way he has of jerkng out some words and running all the rest together 1 UghIl 'I never z page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] r NEMESIS. could bear a man whose scalp worked backward and forward, in that disgusting manner 1" In true womanly style of argument, Bessy's harangue, perti- ninent and forcible in the main, wound up with the weakest point. Mark forgot, in his burst of laughter at her last absurd clause, that much of what she had been saying, had struck him as true as she brought out the various heads. It was not in his nature to take trouble on interest, and kissing the burning cheek of the disconcerted orator, he dismissed Mr. Sancroft by putting forward a-more pleasing subject. The odd jobs about the premises were disposed of sufficiently to allow of his return to his legitimate calling. He now solicited his wife's aid in putting up his sign, which had, up to this time, lain undisturbed in the bottom of a chest. After a good deal of serious consultation, it was decided at length, to place it between the window and the door, at an equal distance from the roof and from the ground. Mark and Bessy went out to the road to enjoy the effect and to be certain that it was conspicuous enough to catch the eye of a careless passer by. It was a complete success. Even from the highway, across the field, a tolerably keen sight could distinguish the black letters upon their white ground-- "M ARK HALE. SHOEMAKER.17 N RME 8 I S. 37 CHAPTER III. BEN LOMOND, Mr. Argyle's mansion, although neither the oldest nor largest house in the neighborhood, was yet invested with pretensions that enabled it to hold up its peaked roof and round chimneys with the grandest in the country. The centre building was of hard, dark-red brick, which had been transported to this inland region from across the ocean, by the founder, the elder of the emigrant Argyles. The causes assigned for hs expatriation were divers, and not altogether reconcilable. The speculation most favored by the family and their friends, was of political-and ecclesiastical perse- cutions, from which he barely escaped with his life and liberty, and his small household. In the early and inconsiderate days of the son, the present proprietor, he had ventured -to give this shadowy persecution a form and date; dilating to round-eyed, wide-mouthed listeners, lupon the baseness of royal oppression; the tyranny of the perfidious house of Stuart; the deaths on the' scaffold of two peers of the realm-father and son-descendants of the grand, rugged old chieftain, MacCallum More; and how, driven from the land of his birth by the same relentless enmity, one of the race and name had fled over the Atlantic to escape a like fate. The Argyle- name was not disgraced by the causeless taint of 1" treason;" the blood of the noblest of Scotland's peer- ages was none the poorer because it ran in the veins of a handful of untitled exiles. Amid the winks and whispered jeers of the minority, who X page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] a3 NEMESIS. a appreciated the tale as a joke, and the sympathe sympathy and reverence of the many, who swallowed it as a verity, without thinking of subsequent digestion, the ambitious "laird," as his college-mates dubbed him, was suffered to proceed, until one day, the hour and the man having come, a certain waggish fellow stood forth, and made proclamation of a most surprising instance of longevity as exemplified in Argyle, senior. "He had been driven from his native Highlands, according to the son's showing, by the remorse- less hatred of an ungrateful dynasty, and found an honored asylum in the wilds of America. There he had raised a family and a forture, and notwithstanding his perils, hardships, and labors, was now enjoying -the evening of a well-spent life-in fact, renewing his. prime if not his youth. He might easily be mistaken for a man of fifty, when, as the date of the battle of Sedgemoor- the- disastrous day that saw the downfall of his illustrious kinsman --proved- he was in reality nearly a hundred years old, he having been a man grown and married at the time of his fight I' The luckless butt of this unmerciful sport never forgot nor forgave 'its author and endorsers. Throughout his life, the impru- dent tongue that let slip in his presence the sobriquet, ' MacCal- lum More," -which still perpetuated the remembrance of his boyish mortification, was sure to incur the weight of his deep displeasure. The unpopular and unromantic opinion of those who had the best, opportunities of knowing the first Argyle who honored the western continent by making it his home, was that his removal to the new, world was strictly a business investment. His steady devotion to, Mammon, his near pinching and his overreaching, his grinding and his grasping, were to their minds indubitable testi- mony that money-getting- and money-saving were inbred and paramount to all nobler passions. His son, with- a-more liberal education, was almost as narrow and selfish in his views and' i i - NEMESIS. iI 3 aims. His life was a ceaseless toil to maintain the family -honor by means of a show of luxury and abundance, without draining the family coffers. In pursuance of this policy, he- was -now spending a year abroad; the place and style of his retirement a* secret to all his neighbors excepting Mr. Sancroft, who, every quarter, dispatched a bulky missive to an obscure town in Scotland. Mrs. Argyle, a lady of rare excellence and personal beauty, had been long dead. The two daughters were being polished in Madame Finissez's fashionable seminary, New York city, and Malcolm, the second child and sole miale heir,; was studying Greek and politics at William and Mary college. The future man of the people would be more acceptable in his native State if his Alma Mater were a domestic institution. - During the absence of the chief rulers of the household, the negroes workedthe plantation ; the overseer, a shrewd Scotch- man, brought up by Mr. Argyle for this post, worked the negroes, and Mr. Sancroft's fingers and eyebrows were everywhere. --Mean- while, the house was shut against all outsiders, with the exception of one wing, remote from the principal building. --The place looked well, in- spite of an indescribable air of desolation,. the effect of the closed windowsand smokeless chimneys . The.;site was- commanding ; a ridge, sloping to the west and south, in culti- vated lands, watered by a winding stream, that- imparted, more- over, variety and beauty to the landscape ; and sheltered from the cold winds of the' north and: east by- the grand forest, 'which overspread with a solemn sea of verdure two-thirds of:the estate. The original building was two -stories high; and the high- roof was pierced with semicircular openings Otto light a roomy-attic. The eaves frowned darkly over the upper row of chamber windows4 and a porch, also peaked in roof, and covered with rounided shingles, overlapping one, another after the manner and: appear- ance of fish-scales, jutted out boldly in front, like a mailed-sentinel watching over the valley. At the right, left and -rear, had bhet / page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 - E M E SIs. added wooden wings, of architecture almost as solid and grave in its character, as was the brick house. The sun and storm had been the painters, and these had produced a mellow brown hue, that harmonized not indifferently with the color of the rest of the pile. One tall, spreading cedar shadowed the porch, and on either side of the gate stood, hale and green, a box-tree, fifty years old. The front lawn was separated from the kitchen yard, by a hedge of broom, of the laird's planting, and which was at once his delight, and the cordial detestation of the little negroes, whose associations with the flexile twigs were of the most lively and pungent nature. Following the path, which, at one corner of the house, made a gap in this evergreen fence, one came upon the back building and entered the housekeeper's jurisdiction. Anid here, on a frosty Monday morning, early in December, Miss Barbara Brook busied herself and her myrmidons in the momentous work of ".getting the week started." "Letme once get fair holt of it, a Monday morning i" said the enterprising female, clutching at an invisible hebdomadal adversary, with a gesture akin to one which we remember to have seen "bring down the house," at a college exhibition, when a grace- ful Freshman essayed to " pluck up drowned Honor by the locks." "Let me get fair holt of it, and start it right ; set it on its legs, myself, and happen what may, I am sure of. coming out straight and-sqUareon'Saturday night i" A mischievous observer would have said that there was little danger of any other result to her, individually. Straight and square, Nature had made her, and-she had sought -out no inven- tion wherewith to alter or improve the model. Straight as to limbs, spine, neck and sandy hair ; square as to shoulders, elbows, brow, chin-even toes. She was not over five feet in height, and was attired in a homespun woollen garment, in whose plaids red and yellow were -the prevailing tints, and whose cut and fit are best described by saying that her rule of: "straight and square," a NEMESIS. 41 had not been departed from. The room was spacious and com- fortable. At one end of it was a loom, and nearer the fire-place a spinning-wheel, each presided over by a sable handmaiden. A third was carding wool, and still a fourth, a mere child, was sit- ting flat in the middle of the apartment, picking cotton, assisted or hindered, by a boy of about the same size, and of as lustrous an ebony as herself. This couple were, on this particular occa- sion, Miss Barbara's most grievous obstacle to setting the week upon its legs. - "Tony I what are you about thar?" "Nuthin', Miss Barbary." "So it seems 1" stopping behind him, to rap his head with the huge brass thimble that never left her finger. "Turrible tough cotton l" said the boy. "You ever seen tougher, Suke?" "Dat I ain't 1" responded his co-worker. "/Pears like de seeds warn't 'tended to come out l" "'Pears like you warn't 'tended to work, you mean," was the contemptuous retort of the taskmistress. "I reckon if the seed was good to ec;t, they'd slip out like they was greased. Chloe Ann! I should think that a girl who went to roost last -night with the chickens, and couldn't be got off of it, till after milking- time this morning, might keep her eyes open long enough to- card half a dozen rolls. I'll put you to bed some day, and not let you git up for a week': The carder rolled her eyes, and showed her teeth in a way that betrayed little dread of the prescription. The weaver was a dark mulatto, tall and powerfully made, with features that, betokened no common character. Her task went forward diligently, and Miss Barbara's glance over her shoulder was one-of approval, not distrust. "You never wove a smoother piece of linen than that- Sarah;, she remarked, knitting away at the stocking that never had her page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 NE M ES I S. eye for an instant. "I think we will bleach it, and lay it by for your Miss Eleanor's wedding outfit." -The woman smiled without speaking,; but she looked neither indifferent to the beauty of the work, nor to the praise bestowed upon it. D"Bar!" ejaculated Tony, pricking up his ears, like a pointer puppy: "Somebody comin' i" "t ow do you know?" demanded Miss Barbara. "I hear 'um clean he foot 'pon de mat in de porch. Dar I what I tell" you?": and tumbling heels over head in his haste to answer the summons, he unclosed the door before Bessy Hale had with- drawn her hand after her hesitating knock. "Can I see Miss Brook ,?" she asked of the boy. "'Certainly," said Miss Barbara, shoving him aside. "Get to your work, sir. Be pleased to walk in, ma'am. Take a seat by the fire. Tony, bring in some wood--no I you do it, Chloe Ann. If he gets out of this room we won't see him again till night. A -cold day," she continued to Bessy, catching, up a broom and plying it fussily upon a hearth already as clean as hands could make it. "Yes, malam, very cold," responded Bessy. The bustle of her reception had given her time to collect her ideas and words. - "Take off your bonnet," pursued the hospitable housekeeper. "No, I thank you, ma'am I have only a .few minutes to -stay." Her color mounted higher, but ,she went on-in the same quiet, firm tone. "We have moved to this part of the country, lately. My husband is a shoemaker, and has rented a house not farlfrom here, belonging to Mr. Argyle." " I know," nodded Miss Barbara; " the old overseer's house." - Yesma'am. He hopes to get work enough to support his family after-a3 while; but of course, we cannot expect to have it come in all at once, before he .isknown. We have but one child, 'notw miore than:three years ;,iOTd)i i I have a great deal of spare J time. And, so I thought it wobtuibe a-help to us if I could get wN EME S HS. 43 some plain sewing to do, and-and-knowing that your- family was very' large, I guessed you might wish to employ a seam- stress, now and then. I can cut and fit tolerably well, and stitch very fast." During this speech Miss Barbara's eyes were as busy asher clicking needles, and before its termination, concise as it was, she had arrived at several irreversible conclusions. Firstly, and' chiefly, that she had taken a fancy to Bessy. - She said to herself that She had never, in all her born days, seen a prettier picture ! than the girlish-looking wife and mother, as she sat, with' h er clasped fingers upon her knee, looking modestly into the-fire, the hood of her red cloak pushed back from her face, but not so far that it 'did not. shed a deeper rose upon the blooming cheek. She was prettyr spoken, too," she added. Her northern- ,accent lent a charm to her language. It was so unlike Mr. Sancroft's nasal twang I Next, being no drone herself, she was pleased that the woman wanted workl; that she did not fold her arms idly and let her husband maintain her. Then, as a clinching con- sideration, the application was made to her, as the rightful- head of the household, in -the master's absence, and not to thiatQdious Sancroft, who, if he had his way, would, measure every quart of meal, and count every pbtatoe that went -out of her, store-room and cellar., And, with a toss of the head, meant for him and not for the applicant, Miss'Barbara made up her mind; as Bessy uttered the last word. "I am behindhand with my sewing;, she proceeded, directly to the point. "Such a thing hasn' happened - in this house before, for ages. But my best hand-her that helps most, about- mnaking' the negroes' clothes-has .a run-around on her. finger, and can't set a stitch." ' The feminine pronoun helped Bessy to understand that b1he afflicted digit was not Miss Brooks Aow personal,-member^ own \es,":mer page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " N E JF S I S. but of what "a run-around" was, she had a very imperfect notion. "It's pretty heavy work " said Miss Barbara. "'Look here!" She lifted the lid of a chest, and drew out divers bundles of homespun, men's coats, women's frocks, and boys' trowsers. , "Aint it a sight fit to break a woman's heart?" said Miss Brook, pathetically. "'Specially, when I don't get a minute to set 'down to it, from sunrise to sundown. Trot I trot I trot I the whole enduring time, after, folks "-an ireful look at spinner, carder and cotton-pickers-" who wouldn't earn the salt to their bread, if I weren't everlastingly at their heels."l "Iidon't mind it's being heavy," answered Bessy, whose eyes had sparkled, at sight of the unmade clothing. "And I know something about tailoring. My mother made me learn the trade partly before I was married. I make all my husband's clothes." "Very well " The rnod said more than the tongue. ":Now, about the price of your work. Would you like your pay in money,or will it be as convenient to take it out in produce- meat, eggs, and so forth?" Bessy stammered-"I cannot say yet; I did not tell my husband that I was coming here, or that I intended to take in sewing. I was afraid he might think that I would have too much to do with it, and washing and cooking, and my own work besides. I must talk with him, before J can decide which kind of payment would suit us best." "Don't you keep no servants?" "No, ma'am!" surprisedly. Miss-Barbara dropped the roll of cloth. t Hear that, now I And you as nice-looking and genteel as any lady I That beats-all independence ever I heard of. Catch "Virginny girl doing that I Every overseer's wife must have a NE ME S I S . I45 negro to wait upon her, if she hasfit a- decent coat to her own or her children's backs. You're made of the right stuff I None of your slazy goods, that go to pieces in the washing-like half of the women that git married these days. Pick out what you think you can do, and I'll send it down to your house. It will be too big a bundle for you to tote (carry )." Habitual prudence mastered her enthusiasm sufficiently to induce her to propound some inquiries as to Bessy's estimate of the value of her labors, .and finding it moderate, she readily agreed to give it, or its -equivalent, when the job should be com- pleted. A proud and a happy heart Bessy Hale carried back to her humble home. She was, as every wife should be, her husband's confidante in business affairs, and could not be deluded- by his sanguine predictions of the better, because busier days coming, into forgetfulness of their present condition. Their slender stock of money was running low, and the stores they had brought with them could not, by the utmost frugality, be made to last much longer. Fresh meat, butter, and green vegetables were luxuries that rarely appeared upon their table, and even the small sum dis- bursed for the milk, so indispensable to Kitty's health and com- fort, was beginning to be felt as a serious outlay. All this while-nearly four weeks-Mark had had but one customer, Mr. Slocum, the bachelor-farmer, who called to .get a shoe mended, and "' sposed they'd take it out in milk." i Bessy danced rather than walked down the long hill, near the foot of which stood their cottage. Arrived within a dozen:yards of it, she saw Mark, also approaching by a wood-path. A fagot- ing expedition of his, with Kitty as attendant, had furnished his wife with a chance to carry her- secretly-matured, plan into execution. She had intended to be home in advance of him, but the success of her scheme made her careless how soon it was dis- closed. Therefore she stood still, and watched him through the page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " N EAlE E S IS.. naked branches of brushwood. He walked wearily; a load of fagots strapped on his shoulders, and his axe in the hollow of his arm. It was not fatigue alone that shaded his countenance and clogged his-feet. She felt sure of that. The drooping muscles of the mouth and the contracted brow were indices of inward dis- quiet, which she could understand--and reieve I As her heart leaped lightly with the last, thought, Kitty, who was scampering along- before her father, espied the red cloak, and cried out, "-Mamma t" Mark looked up instantly, but not so quickly that the affec- tionate creature regarding him did not detect the short, hard struggle -ith which he- manned himself to meet her cheerfully. "Halloo, Little Red Riding Hood!" he exclaimed, as she ran forward to meet him. '"Where have you been, decked out in your holiday rigr?," a "To' see my grandmother, and she didn't eat me up either!"' ,Then followed a recital of her adventure and its result. Mark said truly that he would have forbidden the undertaking, if she had solicited his counsel; and there was a temporary uprising of manly and generous- pride at the idea of her supporting- him! which required an infinity of coaxing and some tears from Bessy to overrule. But he called her " a noble, good, true wife," and our busy bee was triumphant. Miss Barbara's first payment was in produce, and the basket having been-packed by herself, our cottaage-friends conceived a happy; if not a very just impression of the cheapness of provisions in-that region. Mark's wounded pride had a salvo the same day, in the shape of an order from Mr. Selden, a neighboring planter, for half a dozen pairs of children's shoes, his shoemaker being confined to- his bed by sickness. Mr. Sancroft had not- concealed from Mark, when making the representations that lured him to this new settlement, that it was N NEMfIESIS. 47" the custom on every farm to educate certain of the more intelli gent negroes in the different mechanical arts, which were most frequently called into requisition in an agricultural district. There was no plantation without its blacksmith and carpenter. The shoemaker and wheelwright were generally more public instiuu- tions, receiving the custom of several families. The Argyle Cris, pin was defunct before Mark's removal, but all the hands were already shod for the winter, when he came, and so- far as he was informed, the leather was indestructible, for not a stitch had he been requested to take toward repairs, or a second supply. Thus matters were on Christmas Eve, when Bessy carried home -the last parcel of sewing the great chest had for her. "*'I was intending to run down to see you some time, to-day," said Miss Barbara, squarely as usual. Bessy looked surprised, but pleased. She had no neighbors, no visitors. She seemed out of place in the community, whereas, in the dear old times, social calls and tea-drinkings were every afternoon occurrences. She was not lonely or dispirited. How could she be, with Mark and Klitty? but she was young and lively, and had a natural fondness for company. "Since you are here, I will save my visit for another timef went on Miss Barbara. "I wanted to invite you and your hust- band and your baby, to eat my Christmas turkey with me, to- morrow. Will you come?" "With great pleasure, ma'am ; that is, if Mark can. He. has been right busy lately," she added, with evident pride. "( m glad to hear it 1" She did not hint that Mr. Selden had acted upon her recommendation. - "But tell- him from me, that nobody in these parts does, a stroke of work on Christmas day.; He must come, and don't forget the baby. Inever know how to entertain children, but I'll give her enough to eat, a6nd a dozen black picaninnies to divert her, if she wants 'em." "She will not need' them, I guess. She has never been much page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] NEMEPSIS. used to the company of other children, and is satisfied to play around, quietly, while grown people are talking." "She's a wonder then Ha live miracle I I have sometimes thought there must be comfort in having a good child-but, law me I where. did you ever see one that didn't pester the life out of everybody that had anything to do' with it?" Mine doesn't i' remarked the mother, smilingly. She was learning what Miss Barbara's ways meant, and pri- vately questioned the genuineness of her professed repugnance to little folks. Kitty's curly head could hardly lie still upon the pillow that i night, through excess of excitement. That memorable Christmas Eye,her stocking was hung in the chimney corner for the first time! While her father held her on his knee, and told her of the kind Santa Claus, who was to come down the wide chimney, while, she was asleep, with a pocket full of nice things for the little girl who minded her parents, and had entirely given up the bed: habit of crying for what she was told she could not have ; her mother pinned a loop to one of a pair of striped stockings and fastened it to a nail by the fire-place, where no saint, with half an eye, or. half his wits about him, could overlook it. Besides this brilliant -prospect for the morrow, she was " going visiting." Her clean clothes were spread on a chair, in the kitchen, before she went to bed, that they might be aired and ready against the morning. There they lay-the crimson worsted frock ; the white pinafore; the red and white stockings ; the black shoes with red rosettes., Father and mqther cast many looks at the simple array after the destined wearer was in bed. "I have been told that I dressed her too fine for the child of poor parents,^ remarked. Bessy; "but the materials of her clothes are not more expensive than those which other people, no better, of than ,we are, put on their children. It is the bright a I NEMESIS. " colors, and the why they are made, I suppose, that sets tongues going about her." "It is because the mother has the taste to. see what becomes her child; for my part, I like to see her look her prettiest, the little beauty! She will be almost as handsome as her mother, by the time she is grown. If I live a dozen years longer, you shall have the means to dress her as you please, and nobody will find fault with your extravagance." With the earliest sunbeam that peeped in at the window, Kitty was astir.. Her parents had stolen out noiselessly, while she prolonged her morning's nap, the more profound, on account of her excited wakefulness during the early part of the night. There was a great fire in the outer room-a Christmas blaze, that stained redly the log walls and the beams overhead, and found laughing reflections of itself in the pewter basins and platters on the shelves. Mark was winding up the dock, and Bessy laying the cloth for breakfast, when the chamber-door creaked, and a diminutive white figure entered, holding her night- dress across her bosom with one hand, while the other pushed back the curls that were falling over her forehead and eyes. The bare, plump feet made directly for the treasure by the mantel- shelf, a, her father took it down from its high hail and gave it to her, with a kiss. Not a syllable did she utter then, but sitting down onher stool in the glare of the blazing logs, she emptied the contents into her lap, speechless and breathless with expect- ancy and delight. Uppermost was a suit of clothes for her doll, manufactured by the mother, in the evenings, when the day's labor was over. It was a thorough outfit, not forgetting a pair of blue satin shoes that just fitted the feet of the clumsy pet, whose mistress con- sidered her a faultless model of the human form divine. The next parcel was wedged in the ankle of the stocking, aid iKitty's fingers trembled with cold and impatience before she extricated page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 N M-E SIS. it. Here was an important addition to her household, a second, and smaller dolly, carved like its senior, out of soft' wood, and painted-but wonder of wonders I with joints at its knees and elbows I "Mamma I Papa I' screamed the agitated child, strewing everything else upon the floor, as she ran to them; " see what a beautiful"-tears of ecstasy choked her. The rude wooden image, which was, however, fully as graceful- in figure and artistic in finish, as the pattern after which it was fashioned, was Mark's handiwork. With a deal' of pains he had whittled, and polished, and colored it, for toy-shops were rarities then and there-; and had they been abundant, Mark's shillings were scarce. What mattered a deficency that was never felt? Little Kitty was enraptured beyond expression, and bon-bons and playthings, elegant in conception and workmanship could not have added a drop to the overflowing cup. Even the recollection of the promised visit was dim in comparison with the possession of her treasure, and the only cloud that crossed .her face that morning, was when she asked, anxiously hugging her baby to her heart: "Please, mamma, may I take dolly, too? I guess she's afraid to stay at home, without me." This consideration was disregarded in the case of the elder doll, who was comfortably ensconced in bed, with many injunctions to be " a good girl, and not cry until her Kitty came back." Bessy was mistress of a silk robe, inherited from her mother, not purchased in her lifetime; but extraordinary indeed must have been the occasion that warranted her in putting it on. For a Christmas dinner, even at the " great house,")she wisely selected her best winter dress. It was of green stuff, trimmed with black, and the color, so trying to most complexions, made the pure white and red of her skin seem fairer and fresher. Beneath the short sleeve was an exquisitely crimped ruffle of worked linen, NE M ES TS. 51 descending below the elbow. Rich ladies wore these pf lace, and paltry imitations could be procured from every packman and peddler, but our Bessy's taste was too just to suffer her to avail herself of the cheap substitute. Her inside kerchief was also of linen, less fine, but as neatly gotten up ; to protect her arms she drew on linen gloves of her own fitting. and stitching, and the fairy foot, of which Mark had nearly made her vain, looked smaller than ever, in a pair 6f green morocco shoes, with enor- mous black rosettes, to match her dress. Mark wasanot far wrong when he said, what he believed-that the Christmas sun shone on no more beautiful mother and daughter, in all the broad land. And certainly he did not'look an unfit gallant for the twain, as he stepped up to offer his arm to his wife-attired in a suit of dark blue, with a white neckcloth, and a frilled shirt-front, plaited with Bessy's inimitable skill. In this style, they set out, punctually at ten o'clock, Kitty carrying her doll, carefully enveloped in flannel, to shield its tender form from the biting outer air. page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 , NEMEIE S . CICHAPTER IV. GLAD to see you; walk in!" said Miss Barbara, meeting the Hale family at the door. "How dy'e, Pussy? That's what they call you, ain't it?'" "My name is Kitty," answered the child, wonderingly. "And don't-Kitty and Pussy mean the same thing? Let me take off your cloak and hood. Well, you are pretty as a picter, and nq mistake about it! t Where did you steal your roses from?" Won by the innocent beauty of the little face she held up to the light, she stooped to kiss it, forgetful of her professed dislike of " babies." Bessy, remarked the stolen caress, with a sly smile at Mark, and both felt more at home because of it. They were received in Miss Brook's own apartment, the same in which Bessy had first been introduced to her notice. The fur- niture was very plain ; rush-bottomed chairs and deal tables, and cupboards, some with glass doors, some without, in every corner. The floor was covered with a rag carpet, woven in the loom, that was a fixture in the back part of the room; but the spinning- wheel had been removed; the cleanest of always clean white curtains put up at the four windows, and the chairs arranged cozily around the fire. Miss Barbara still wore her thimble-it was affirmed that she slept in it-but all else about her had the true holiday look. On working-days, her hair, which was profusely streaked with grey, was uncovered and " done up" in the tightest possible knot at * g NEMESIS. 53 the top of her head. To-day, a neat cap, trimmed with purple ribbons, concealed this fantastic mode of coiffure, and softened the angular outlines of her square forehead and chin. Her bombazet frock was snuff-colored and less outrd in fashion than her ordinary home dress. "Your wife tells me you're a member," she broke out, after scrutinizing Mark through her spectacles for some minutes in profound silence. "Yes, madam,' he replied, unable to resist the inclination to smile at the unlooked-for observation. "Religion's a great thing, sir 1" "I think so, madam." "' You'll find but few of your way of thinking about here. You know there isn't a church within ten miles, except old Deep Run meetinghouse, where nobody preaches twice a-year, and when theydo, it's a circus rider, as they" call 'em, or some of- the ministers, on their way home from Presbytery. I'm a Pres- byterian myself. I was brought up in Hanover, and jined the old church-where Samuel Davis used to preach-before I was twenty. He was a lion in the strength of the Lord. My- mother knew him well. Maybe you've heard tell of him?" "Yes, madam. I have a volume of his sermons." "'You don't say so I Now-isn't that wonderful? Well, as I was saying-I come to this heathen country with Mrs. Argyle, when she was married. A saint upon earth she was, and Im asure she's now an angel in heaven. She never rested until-she got Deep Run built, and for a while Presbyterians and Episcopals preached in it, turn about, once a month; but she diedi and there was the end of that I 'She took a heap of pains teachin' the' negroes, and -I can see some signs of her work left; but there's a mighty back-slidint among hem. I read to 'era Sundays, and hear the catechism regular, but 'tisn't the mistress' doings;and they feel the difference.'} page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] air NEMESIS. "Mr. Argyle is not a professor, then?" "'Not he!" She checked herself, -and went on in a different tone. "He doesn't interfere, and he likes to talk about the 'Established Church of Scotland,' and his- forefathers sticking so fast to the Protestant faith, with the ministers that stop here overnight. You see, they got into the habit of it when Mrs. :Argyle was alive, and I'm sure they're always more than wel- come. But it's easier to do like your neighbors, and let things ,take their course, than to make a stand against iniquity, and try to turn people out of the broad, into the narrow way." "Mr. Sancroft had religious training, I suppose," said Mark.' "The Connecticut people are great church-goers." - "More shame to him for being such a reprobate i" cried Miss Barbara, warmly. "A more godless, money-worshipping fox you won't find this side of the place he came from. Beg your par- don oif you're affronted I but you do send some plagued poor *sticks down South, and he isn't one of the best kind." ".We did not come from the same State," said Mark, good- humoredly. "I am a native of Massachusetts." "Bunker Hill is in that, ain't it?" "I Yes, madam." "I've heard tell of it often. I had a brother badly wounded at the battle of Monmouth." X She spoke'as though they were adjacent townships, and Mark did not feel it incumbent upon him to set her right. "I aught not to feel, nor to talk about Mr. Sancroft as I do," she said, presently. "The fact is, I can't bear the man, and so I suspicion, everything he says and does. If I, am wrong, and sometimes don't give him his due, I hope, the Lord will forgive me." Her penitent tone was suddenly dropped. "Mr. Argyle thinuk that he is the salvation of the plantation, when -he is awayt and poor Frisbie a smart, managing,:workin' fellow as ever lived, gits not a mite of -praise along with his overseer's NEMESIS. 5 wages. I promise you, Sancroft hears a piece of my mind- some pretty plain conversation-when he pokes his meddlin' eye- brows into my part of the house. If )twasn't for the children-I promised their mother on her death-bed I'd never leave-Mr. Argyle would have had to look out for another housekeeper the day after he engaged that slab-sided Yankee to stand master-for us all. The fire burns your face there, honey I Let me set your cheer in the corner." She picked up Kitty, chair, doll and all, to remove her to a more sheltered position, and in a moment seemed to have forgotten that Mr. Sancroft-was in existence. Dinner was served at twelve o'clock. Miss'Barbara made no pretensions to "quality" hours or fashions. An independent, free-born woman, she respected herself and the station allotted to her by Providence too truly, to degrade either by servile imiita- tions of those, who, in the same providence, were appointed to a higher rank, as far as outward appearances went. There were stores of china, silver and damask in the house, and -she had -the keys to every room and chest. Three thousand miles intervened between Ben Lomond and its proprietor, and there were no spies in the camp; yet the table was spread with home-made linen, coarse but glossy; pewter spoons and crockery, blue and white, of the everlasting Chinese willow pattern. That old willow pattern I Who that thinks of it fails to recall, its stiff plume-like trees, its bridges and summer-ouswes, its boats in the air, its hump-backed human (?) figures-and to whom, with the- sight of these, come not visions 0of ceountry dining-rooms; the smell of clover-hay floating m- at thewindows, and mingling with the enchanting fragrance of a- rural repastl Who does not remember the yellow butter, dewy and coolI-frm the ice or spring-house-the tumbler of cream, almost as rieh--the flaky biscuit-the amber honey-the batter-cakes and the fried chicken-the shade-trees, locusts and aspens-joining their whis- page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56* NE MESIS. pers to the reverent tones, that asked a blessing upon bounties received; the cordial, hearty voices that pressed the guest to eat, until " tired nature could no more?" The unfortunate reader, who knows nothing experimentally of this, who has felt no sympathetic watering of the mouth, or eyes, in perusing the above, is hereby assured, for his comfort, that he may enjoy the. luxury of a new sensation by travelling in a stage or private carriage, not by rail, forty miles back into the country. Miss Barbara's Christmas turkey had half an inch of fat'upon its breast, and a. necklace of sausages, and was kept in coun- tenance at the other end of the table by the most crisp of roast pigs that was ever replete with sage stuffing and dripped with gravy. Between these was a double line of communication, com- posed of potatoes, Irish and sweet, parsnips, turnips, bacon and cabbage, sausage, spare rib, souse, bread, butter, and pickles, yellow, green and sweet. "Oh 1" ejaculated'Xitty, as she was lifted into her chair. Her mother's hand was laid warningly upon her head, but Miss Barbara smiled complacently at the artless and involuntary com- pliment to her culinary exploits, and requested "Mr. Hale " to !" ask a- blessing." Tony and Suke, in whole aprons and shining faces, waited upon the table, an honor altogether unusual to our northern friends, bu'ithey were too well bred to let this appear. Kitty's plate was nearest to the- head of the board, and was consequently piled until the prudent mother ventured to remonstrate. I' It's plain, wholesome food i" said Miss Barbara. "When the dessert comes on, you can give her what you please; but bread and'tmeht never hurt anything or anybody." To-nys longifig eyes and smacking mouth were, just then, eloquent of noble anmbition to offer himself a sacrifice to establish the truth of this principle. The current of his desires was N E E S I . 57 diverted by a tread in the porch without, and, as he had done at Bessy's first call, he let fall everything in. his hands, which happened, fortunately, to be nothing but a japanned waiter; and with his " somebody comin'!" sprang at the door-latch. It was raised from without as he touched it, and the door flew open with an impetus that knocked him back against Suke, who, also losing her balance, rolled with him, clutching and shrieking, on the floor. A hearty, boyish " ha I ha 1 ha!" mounted high above their screeches and Miss Barbara's exclamation. Mark and Bessy arose to their feet, as she started forward, upsetting her chair and plate. "Malcolm Argyle I Is it you, or- your ghost?" "That is like flesh and blood, is it not?" was the reply, as he kissed her cheek, and gave her ribs a hug, that nearly drove from her body the scanty breath astonishment had spared to her. "What do you say now, Aunt Bab?" continued the intruder, laughing at her contortions, as he released her. . "I say you are no better-than you used to be--the worst boy that ever went unflogged!"Miss Barbara sobbed betwixt laugh- ing, crying and want of wind. "Where did you come from, and what brought you here?" - "I came straight from college, to eat my-Christmas dinner with you. I am glad to see that you have not -waited for me, however. Just let me step into your room and wash my hands, and I am ready-that is, when you have made me acquainted with the rest of your company "-bowing with frank grace to the Hales. Miss Barbara introduced them formally, and then bidding them "Be seated and excuse all this rumpus I' she followed *aIcolh. into the adjoining chamber, "to see that he had soapend wate," and to supply further information concerning her new acquaint- ances. The communication was short-; for she was back in her seat before her visitors had begun to feel awkward, -and by this 3* page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 8 NEMESIS. -time, was so far restored to her senses as to scold vigorously at Tony and Suke, for their " want of manners." 'Why, anybody would think you never saw a white man before, let alone your Master Malcolm I A fine notion he will get of your raising 1" "'Most broke my head 1" muttered the ingenious Tony, rub- bing the assaulted part, as his young master reentered. "Bah I Tony, my boy I if your head was struck, there is no damage done. Say your shin, now, and there is a plaster to heal the bruise ;" dropping a coin into his hand. "Meawnt to say shin, marster!" grinned the saucy boy. "Thanky for Christmas gift 1p The heir apparent of Ben Lomond was a- handsome youth of about seventeen, agile and tall in figure, manly and engaging in demeanor. To-day, -he appeared to enjoy but one thing more than the abundance of edibles, set in array before him, and that was teasing Miss Barbara, whom he invariably addressed as "Aunt Bab." Her curiosity was wound up to the highest pitch to ascertains the cause of his unexpected visit home, during the college term, and while his father and sisters were absent ; but her questionings were plied with no other effect than to incite him to evasions and ridiculous fabrications, until the plum-pudding -and mince-pie disappeared from his plate. Then he declared him- self vanquished by a liberal draught of domestic- liqueur that accompanied the dessert, and which he protested would open the mouth and heart of an oyster. "In ving vexitas, Aunt Bab," he said, leaning forward upon the table, and affecting to look through his glass with one eye. "That means, when wine goes in, truth pops out I Father is coming home, I 4 "Yot don't say so I When?" "If you will interrupt me, you must take the consequences," was the provoking rejoinder. "I must have another bumper to %f NEMESIS. 59 do away with the effect of that obstruction to my communicative mood." He sipped it very slowly. "Yes I he writes that he will stop in New York, to pick up his lovely and accomplished daughters, and proceed leisurely to his patrimonial and baronial castle of Ben Lomond '"- Another and a prolonged sip, with his eyes fixed meditatively upon the angle formed by the opposite wall and the ceiling. "But when-for goodness, sake 1" Miss Barbara bounced up, as if her chair were set with needles. "There I you've done it again I If I get drunk, it will be your fault, mind that I I must wet the thread of my discourse every time it has to be joined, you know. lThat bottle, if you please, Mr. Hale," in a tone of resigned melancholy.- Miss Barbara snatched at it; but he was too quick for her, and securing likewise a flask of cherry cordial, he held one in the embrace of each arm. "' Now am I doubly armed 1' As it is you, Aunt Bab, and your discretion is as famous as your want of curiosity, I don't mind telling you that the orders of my revered paternal pro- genitor are, that all shall be in readiness to receive him and: hi fair daughters twain, by the middle or latter part of March; which orders I thought best to deliver in person. And as I had, to pass directly by Mr. Sancroft's, on my way home-Mrs. Hale, allow me the pleasure of replenishing your glass-Miss Brook is celebrated for the excellence of her beverages." "Of course you stopped and told him?" said Miss Barbara, with forced composure: "Ah, well I who had a better right to hear the news first, than your father's agent?" . "Why, yourself, to be sure I At least, so it seemed to me; so I did not even look that way, as I rode by th6 gate." Miss Barbara smiled, in spite of herself. ' I wonder if you'll ever sow your wild oats I Mighty little chance of it, thatt' I ] page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 50 NEMESIS. see. I s'pose you'd like to hear how the neighbors are get- ting-on?" "I have been dying for the last hour, for want of the informa- tion." "More likely, dyin' for the want of your dinner. Well, there's the Seldens-they're all well." "That is very gratifying," interposed Malcolm, gravely. "And Marcia is growin' prettier every day," pursued Miss Barbara, with a meaning look, that had its effect in the boy's heightened color. "I am s'prised you could get by that gate." "When you were this side of it I Fie, Aunt Bab I You don't give me credit for natural affection." 'Natural affection ain't worth much, when there's another sort of love in the way," returned she, unsparingly. "What else hindered you from going in? I don't understand it." "Why, to be honest with you, I met them all-a carriage-load --three miles further on, going out to dinner at Mr. Armistead's, and, as I had no invitation, and had on my travelling-gear, I con- cluded to continue my journey." Laughing heartily at the manifest discomfiture of his oppo- ;nent at this reply, he arose from the table, and invited Mark to visit the stables and negro quarters with him. The request was couched in courteous terms, and his bearing was precisely that of one gentleman toward another. The Chief Magistrate of t he ,nion could not have been treated with more civility than was displayed by this son of a haughty stock, to -the mechanic, whose -acquaintance he had made at his housekeeper's table. "What a charming young gentleman i" exclaimed Bessy, as the two left the room. - "'The flower of the flock "- assented Miss Barbara. "He's always just so ; I've held lim on my knee, a thousand times, when be was a baby, and he's never in his life, to my knowin, done an unkind or a mean thing." . . NE MESIS. 61 "He is very handsome," said Bessy. "He's the image of his mother. You couldn't say more for him. Run around the room, Mousey, and jolt your- dinner down. 'Tain't healthy to sit-still directly after eating." "I'm not a Mousey; I be a Kitty;" chuckled the child, whose shyness had worn off. "Then, here's a cousin for you to play with," said the house- keeper, returning from the inner room, with a pretty tortoise-shell kitten. "You can bundle it up in the blanket with your dolly, and take it home, when you go. I've no use for it, if I am an old maid. There's but one thing in nature more troublesome than a cat, and that's a baby. What would I do with a hus- band, always under-foot, and a dozen squalling brats beside? I'm obliged to you!" continued the contented spinster, nodding to a visionary would-be donor of said commodities, whom she appeared to see in the curls of blue smoke ascending from the pipe she was lighting. "I'm obliged to you, but I'd as lief not!" The two Kitties were in the height of a game of romps, which Miss Barbara prohibited Bessy from interrupting, when Mark and young Argyle came in. And now the latter perfected his conquest of both parents, by joining in the frolic, with as much zest as was exhibited by the child and her four-footed playmate. He leaped tables and chairs; turned corners, and doubled ona his track, in a style that excited Kitty's intense admiration. Her gleeful laugh kept time to the patter of her feet in the chase, and when at last, Malcolm seized her and swung her hup to his shoulder, she forgot that he was a stranger, and a grown man, and clapped her hands in an outhurst of delight.. At that instant, his knock having been drowned by the noise-within, Mr. Sancroft walked in. Miss Barbara grew straight and stiff as her own pipe-stem, Bessy looked embarrassed, and Mark surpised:; but the unabashed stripling stepped forward, without lowering:Kitty from her elevated seat: page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 N E E SI S . "How do you do, Mr. Sancroft? This is an unexpected pleasure ;-but I beg you to consider yourself as welcome as if you had been particularly invited." The parchment cheek of the agent showed a faint glow of con- fusion or displeasure ; but his manner was unaltered bythe equi- vocal nature of his " welcome." "How are you, Mr. Argyle .? I hope you find yourself well, sir. I made so bold: as to present myself here, this afternoon, quite uninvited, as you remark, my dear sir, in consequence of a rumor of your arrival which reached me.' "Are you acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Hale?" interrupted Malcolm, ceremoniously. -"I am, sir. Very happy to see you both under such favorable auspices.- Business and health good, I trust, Mr. Hale? You and Miss Brook are bosom friends by this time, I presume, Mrs. Hale?- You have a very-select and agreeable family gathering here, to-day -Miss Barbara-hey?" "We had! said Miss Barbara, shortly and significantly. Malcolm still walked the room, carrying Kitty with as much ease as though she had been. a tame squirrel. --Mis Hale is highly honored I'l remarked Mr. Sancroft. "Rather a tall sweetheart, is he not, Missy? When did you hear from your respected father, Mr. Argyle? My latest advices report him well and, happy amid the scenes of his childhood's sports.. I fancy he will not be in haste to return to this country -hey?" "On the contrary, he writes to me that we may expect him in March. Are you growing dizzy up there, my little lady?" "She is quite too heavy for you, Mr. Argyle," said Mark, advancing. "Let me relieve you." 8 "She-is as light as a feather, sir, but she is getting uneasy. I think she will feel more comfortable, and, at any rate, safer, on the-floor. She is your only child?" NEM SISs . - 63 "Yes, sir." "What a dear gipsy it is 1' said Malcolm, smiling at her gambols with the kitten, that sprang upon her, as soon as she was released. "I love-children-particularly little girls. What were you saying, Mr. Sancroft?" "I had no intention of interrupting your conversation, Mr. Argyle. I ask your pardon, Mr. Hale, for my apparent rudeness ; but you will own that it is natural for myinterest to be excited by the news Mr. Argyle has communicated. Your father will return in March, my dear young gentleman? Did I hear you- aright? What has induced this sudden resolution? I am really amazed. Nothing of an unpleasant nature has transpired, I -trust, Mr. Argyle? And he was positive-explicit-emphatie in the decla- ration of this design? It was not a hint merely--not stated as a probability--ey?"- "I think it was, sir. All future events must be considered as probabilities, not certainties. But why not be seated, Mr. San- croft? Let me insist that you make yourself at home. Allow me to order a glass of- wine-that is, with Miss Barbara's'per- mission." The cool condescension of the lad was so great a contrast to his ordinary manner, and so remarkable, when exercised by one ofhis years, toward a man of more than double his age, that the Hales' looked on in silent amazement. Miss Barbara's visage had a grim satisfaction in its square lines,'that proved her relish of the scene.: To Malcolm's deferential appeal, she only said : "Help yourself 1" and puffed away-at her pipe The agent waved his hand, in deprecation of the civility, or the delay of his employer's son. . "I thank you, Mr. Argyle I I thank you, sir I I Ihave not time to accept of your hospitalities. And now, that I have had the pleasure of seeing you so well, Mr. Argyle, and:in the enjoy.- ment of such congenial society "-the eyebrows severely ironical, page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] ": NEMESIS. then settling into placidity-"I will not intrude further, will no longer debar you from your sports. - With regard to your respected father's movements, I presume I shall shortly be hon- ored with his commands, as I am in daily expectation of a letter. We have all abundant cause for congratulation in the prospect- however uncertain-of his speedy return. With due humility, I may say that I experience nothing but agreeable emotion at the thought of accounting for, and resigning the responsible steward- ship he honored me by--committing to my charge. Let him come in, the first, or third, or fourth watch, he will find me ready to render my reckoning-hey, Miss Brook?" Miss Barbara's jaws unclosed for a reply, but Malcolm interposed. "I am glad to find that you have added a knowledge of scrip- ture to your other and varied acquirements, since we parted," he said. "I hope your studies have been attended with profit--a wish, that, I am sure, will be echoed by the rest of your acquaint- ance. What do you think of the prospect for a continuance of this fine weather, sir? Cannot you be prevailed upon to grace our company for a little while longer?" "I must be going, Mr. Argyle," answered the agent, with some stiffness. "A merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you all!" Malcolm attended, him to the porch. "May I burden you with my compliments to Mrs. Sancroft and the young ladies?" he begged, with the stately courtesy he had preserved throughout the interview. "I have but a couple of days to spare for this neighborhood, or I might do myself the pleasure of waiting upon them in person. Good day, sir. A pleasant ride to you 1" He shut the door after him, and throwing himself upon a settee, laughed until the tears hung upon his eyelashes. Miss Barbara responded with a dry chuckle, and Mark and Bessy could not resist the contagion. NEMESIS. 65 "Wish you was here to deal with him always!" grumbled Miss Barbara. "A sneaking hypocrite, with his Bible-quoting, through his nose I I'd have set him up with it, if you hadn't have spoken up so quick." "I set him down, Aunt Bab, which was far better," said the youth. I love him as dearly as you do, and can manage him a hundred times better. But we will not slander our neighbors. It is hard to tear myself away from so much of real home-comfort; yet, if you will let me go to my room, I will get ready to go out for a visit. I promised Mr. Selden that I would stay with him to-night." In gratitude for his defeat of her enemy, Miss Barbara refrained from offering comment or insinuation at this confession, and they saw no more of him, except when he looked in to kiss Kitty " good by," and say " good evening" to the rest. The Hales had one more glimpse of him during his hasty visit. On the morning of his departure, he reined up his horse at their door, and expressed, with his adieux, a frietdly wish for Mark's success in his enterprise. It was said sincerely, with no sugges- tion of patronage which he might, some day, render, and this delicacy was appreciated by the man, whose leathern apron was buckled above a heart as generous, a soul as incapable of false pride or sycophancy as was his own. , ** page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " N1EMESIS. v X CHAPTER V. EARLY in March, Miss Barbara enlisted Bessy in her service, for the purpose of "setting the house to rights," preparatory to the arrival of its owners. The long silent and darkened rooms were cleaaned and flung open, and the scrubbing and whitewash brushes were ubiquitous. Our New England housewife went through-the engagement with flying colors. Miss Barbara com- plimented her by conferring with her respecting every change and movementand'he not more decided verbal testimony, that she '" had nevr ktn before half of what was in her." The odd old maid had became extremely fond of her proteg6s, and- although she occupied a subordinate place in the social sphere, she was universally respected, and her opinion held in esteem among the wealthy families around about Ben Lomond. It 'was often in her power to speak a word for Mark and his wife, and she was equally careful not to omit an' opportunity of doing this, and to guard against any allusion to the good deed in their-hearing. Mr. Sancroft, on the other hand, was lavish of patronizing promises and intimations of what he had done, whenever he chanced to meet his-tenant, until Mark believed much of the gratitude. he felt for the steady supply of work that began to flow into his shop, belonged, of right, to the man he was so frequently tempted to distrust. Even Bessy was inwardly dubious occasionally, in consequence of the circumstantial evidence that disproved the justice of her early impression concerning the eyebrows and scalp; but her cogitations invariably concluded NE E IS. 67 with a wise shake of the head, implying a resolve to adhere to her opinion, and still suffer Mark to think as well as he could of one who might help him, and who could, assuredly, injure him if he had the will. Every now and then a trifle aided her to nail fast this determination. Such was the fulfillment of her prophecy in the agent's refusal to fence in their garden, until his employes return. "He could not act without orders," he represented, "and strange to say--in consequence, doubtless, of the multitude of cares attendant upon his leaving Scotland, Mr. Argyle had omitted to instruct him on this point-when he had written so urgently, with regard to it, too I It was too bad-it really was t Mr. Argyle was a very particular, methodical man, who examined into the minutia of his moneyed interests as closely as if he counted his pounds by tens, instead of thousands. But he will not be unreasonable, Mr. Hale; and I shall take occasion,. when I state your case, to set forth your merits as a tenant, Mr. Hale, and the manifest advantage of retaining you." Mark yielded the point, without further pressing, and went home, to advise with his wife. The season was advancing, and they were depending for their summer, and part of their winter provisions uponi the vegetables, whose seeds were not yet in the ground. By dint of rigid, economy, they had been able to lay aside a small. sum of money, with a prudential eye -to a "rainy day." They knew but too well the exact amount, yet it was counted over and over again, before they decided to devote it to the exigencies of this juncture. - . In compliance with Bessy's sagacious counsel, Mark applied toe Mr. Selden-with whose reputation, as a kind-hearted gentleman, Miss Barbara had made them familiar--to sell and deliver to mm a certain number of rails. The-good-natured planter readily fuar nished them at a price thit barely covered the expense of hewing them. Struck with the modest and manly bearing of -the page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 68 NE M ESIS. mechanic, he entered into conversation with him, and presented to him, along with some valuable instruction as to Virginia soils and their cultivation, a package of seeds-enough, with those Miss Barbara had already given, to stock their garden. The fence arose, as if by magic, for the single laborer toiled in- the might of two willing hearts. It was a substantial inclosure, very different from the neat paling that bounded the garden "at home;"- but Mark and Bessy asked nothing better, and when, out of the refuse rails, there was constructed the wished-for hen-house, a couple of fine hens and a rooster installed therein, Bessy felt that they were now really getting along. It was an act of genuine benevolence on Mr. Slocum's part, Mark said to him, and in his own heart, when he hailed hirq over the fence, the very day it was finished, and " reckoned " he would send " a team and a hand down the next day, to plough up that 'ere piece of land." The hearty thanks returned for the neighborly act, produced in him a species of pleased shamefacedness, that did not improve the natural awkwardness of his behavior and carriage. With a grin that aroused Bessy's keen sense of the ridiculous-grateful as she was--he struck his heels into the sides of his ragged pony, and passed off in the direction of Ben Lomond. ' He and Mr. Frisbie have a deal of business together," said Bessy. "Yet I should never suppose they would be intimate. There is such a difference in the two men!" :' They are not much alike," replied Mark, mentally contrast- ing the sharp Scotchman with his slow, shiftless neighbor. "Mr. Slocum- is disposed to be friendly with us, I believe, and in that they resemble one another. If Mr. Frisbie had the ability, he would do us many a kind turn. We .have every reason to be encouraged, Bessy dear. We are gaining friends, and are both young, and strong, and healthy. Did you ever see more lovely weather? Bring that bag of seeds out here to the door, and let us sort them. As there is a prospect of getting ofU NEMESIS. 69 ground ready soon, we may as well determine what to plant, and where.' They sat down on the log that formed the step to their front door, and Bessie emptied the bag in her lap. There were queer- looking packages, pinned and sewed up by Miss Barbara, the pencilled names of which would have been unintelligible,: had not Bessy taken the precaution to get a translation of each, when the seeds were given. Mr. Selden's contributions were dis- tinctly labelled by Mark himself. A rude plan of the garden was drawn upon a bit of paper, and imaginary squares and rows of thrifty vegetables grew rapidly to .maturity, as they- talked over the sketch. Even Kitty had her offering-an ear of, pop- corn, purple and white, which 'Pollo had brought- her, one day on his way to pasture with the cows. Their milk now came from, - Mr. Argyle's dairy. Miss Barbara would have rejected any corm-- pensation for it, alleging that Bessy had "paid for it twice over," but Mark was obstinate, and she consoled herself by send- ing, for the same money, double the quantity they had, obtained from " that goosey Slocum," as she termed him. "Ee's a good enough cretur'," she said, " but he don't know' and he can't do f! ! Cardinal sins in her sight, who saw everything that went on about her, and was always " up and doing.' It was a mild March afternoon. The air had that softness peculiar to southern latitudes, which comes caressingly to the brow, and produces in the lungs a luxurious delight, as if one had just awakened to the glory and blessedness of living and breathing; the effect of harmonious union between the sun, and air; such an atmosphere of warmth, combined with freshness, as " is never known in colder, bleaker climates, where if one is tempted by the delusive spring sunshine to throw aside his cloak, he refolds it over his breast with a shiver, as he turns into the shade at the next corner. Kitty ran races with her kitten in the page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 -N E M E I SI. cleared space before the house/and her merriment was the only sound that stirred the slumbering air. None of the happy, busy party perceived a movement upon the high road beyond the adjacent field, and the child's joyous shouts overpowered the noise of approaching wheels. The cross road leading to Ben Lomond lay directly past the cottage, and Bessy presently raised her head to behold the uncommon spectacle of a coach and four, driven by a negro, in whom she recognized one of the Argyle servants. "Mark!" she said, hurriedly. "It must be Mr. Argyle and his daughters. They are expected every day." The ^side-curtains of the chariot were rolled up to admit the balmy air, and the cottagers had a view of the interior. On the front- seat was a gentleman, of exceedingly stiff carriage, and features somewhat harsh in form and expression. His hair was powdered, tied in a queue at' the back of his neck, and sur- mounted by a cocked hat. He rested both hands son the top of his cane, planted between his knees, and faced his daughters, until they were opposite the Hales' door, when a remark from one of the young ladies caused him to turn his head. The lady herself indulged in a broad stare, and the superciliousness she blended, with her curiosity was exceedingly unbecoming to a face already'too haughty in its beauty. She was dark-haired and dark-browed, and sat a full head- higher than her sister, whose blue eyes- and yellow locks testified to her Celtic origin. Our friends arose as the equipage neared them. Mark bowed and -Bessy courtesied respectfully to their landlord, who acknow- ledged the salutation by a slight bend of his majestic head, with- out the least variation of countenance. The dark lady tossed her ringlets up, instead- of down, and -her lip obeyed a like impulse. Her sister laughed-not at the occupants of the house, but-.-as Bessy was convinced by her eye and gesture--at some- thing above and behind them, And what should that be but I:a NEM ESIS. S 71 Mark's sign, token of the lowly calling that made them to be but as the dust beneath the feet of the rich aristocrats? "-A proud-looking set 1" she said, bitterly, when they had passed. "They are not ashamed to grind the faces of the poor, although it would demean them in their own eyes to speak civilly to us." ' "Bessy!" exclaimed the astonished husband. "What are you talking about? Discontented and envious, my dear girl . This is not like youl" She felt that it was, and with the passing of the anger-fit, came a burst of contrite tears. "I am a weak, foolish childl " she sobbed, her-head on Mark's shoulder. "But indeed it is not for myself that I get-vexed. I know my spirit is too high, my temper too quick, but I cannot bear to see you despised l" He was reproachful no longer. His tone was affectionate and. lively. "Who despises me? No honest man cares for the approba- tion or contempt of people who cannot see cause for respect in- virtuous industry. I am as respectable in my place as Mr, Argyle is in his. My parents were as honorable in the. sight of the Maker of us all, as his were, and my children may yet. takes rank with his, even in this community. Pooh I pooh I little one! you are spending fire and water for'nothing. I venture to say. we are happier, day in and day out, than father and daughters in their grand house." . . "How scornfully those girls looked at your sign i" said -Bessyr ashamed, yet unwilling to accept his dissipation-of her fancies. "Did they?" , Mark glanced over his shoulder at the painted. x board. "I see nothing amiss about it. It is a very decent sign, in my opinion. Perhaps the fashion of lettering has changed since it was painted. They are just from New York, and know all about these things. I tell you what I we can't afford to hide page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 . NEMESIS. the sign, and wouldn't,- if we could, but it would be an improve- ment, if these weather-beaten logs were covered. Our lime has all given out, and it would be extravagant to buy more, if we had money, which we have not. Miss Barbara says that I am wel- come to as many hop vines from her garden, as I can dig up. They grow very fast, and, to my mind, there is no prettier creeper in the world. How would it look to have a row of them, all along the front of the house? , They and the morning-glories will make a gay bower for us by midsummer." Bessy's love for the beautiful was a passion ; -and Mark's diver- sion-of her thoughts adroit and effectual. The various processes of gardening, digging, raking, and planting filled up brain, hands and time for the next month. Bessy hardly ever bethought her- self of the important change at the great house, except when her attention was attracted to the gay cavalcades of visitors passing up and down the road, as the family coach whirled by, leaving a cloud of dust after its wheels ; or Mr. Argyle drove out in a very high gig, drawn by a horse," almost as pompous as his owner, and followed by an outrider, the laborious aim of whose existence it was-to uphold his own and his master's dignity. Miss Barbara, Bessy rightly guessed, was too busy to come down to the cottage herself; but they had several kindly messages, and Kitty more than one present from her. The choicest of these last consisted of some foreign sweetmeats and a dress of Scotch plaid, which, although the recipients did not suspect it, at the time, was clipped from the not over abundant pattern she had commissioned Mr. Argyle to procure abroad for herself. Bessy missed the visits and the useful counsels of her eccentric friend; but she said to her- self that each was in the path of duty, and that these lay too far apart for them to be as intimate associates as formerly. ,The tallest shoots of the hop-vines were as long as a man's arm, and were beginning to cling emulously to, the strings depend- ing froth the'eaves, to direct and encourage their upward aspira NEM E S I S . 73 tions; the borders and squares in the garden were dotted and streaked and carpeted with pale-green leaves and blades; the two hens sat, in solemn perseverance, upon a dozen eggs each, and the rooster stalked and crowed in the conscious pride of -pro- spective paternity. Peace and comfort reigned in-doors as well. The ring- of the hammer upon the lapstone resounded there, as regularly, if not with as much rapidity, as did the bustling, brazen. tongue of the clock. Those were pleasant: spring days. The morning duties dispatched, the fire was covered over a smoulder- ing back-log, to abide its resurrection at dinner-time, and Bessy sat down in her low chair at her husband's side, to -her task of binding shoes. The clinking hammer was no hindrance to their talk, and the mother's hands and eyes were never so busy that Kitty's wants and questions did not meet a ready and patient response. Unless prevented by a press of work, Mark devoted an hour of early morning, and two of the afternoon to the garden or the forest. .He was equipped for an excursion to the latter, after their noon-day dinner, one sultry Saturday afternoon, when the rumble of distant thunder drew his notice to the rising of a black cloud in the west. His tender plants were beginning to stand in need of rain, and he was well satisfied to return his axe and fagot-strap to their places, aind watch the coming shower. The. dark -masses of vapor rolled swiftly onward, and there were few peals and flashes, short as were the intervals of calm, before the spring rain swept in mist and torrents over field and wood;- Mark shut the door to keep out the spray, and was standing at the window, when a horseman rode up at half speed, tore the saddle-bags and saddle from his steed, and ran toward the house. " Mark hastened to admit him. "Walk in, sir," he said, anxiously; "I am afraid you are -very wet." He hazarded nothing by the conjecture, for rivulets of rain-water 4 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] M74 N E x E 8 I B were pouring from the strangers figure, all over the nicely-sanded floor. The first use he made of his breath, when he recovered it, was to apologize for this damage, so unintentionally committed. "I am sorry that I am not the. only sufferer," he said, with a pleasant smile and bow to Bessy, that would have consoled her for a far more serious derangement in her household economy. "That is of no consequence, sir," rejoined Mark, "provided you receive no injury beside the inconvenience you feel in your damp clothes. Fortunately, the fire has not gone down entirely. Be seated, if you please." He stirred the embers, and threw on some dry sticks to raise a blaze. Bessy slipped into the rear chamber ; was gone a minute or two, and returning, said something aside to her husband. "Let me beg of you to change your clothing, sir," entreated Mark ; "my wife has laid out some of mine in the other room, which you will oblige me by accepting, until she can dry yours at the fire." . "It would be both unwise and unkind in me not to accept an offer so frankly made," said the stranger, gratefully. "I have been a grievous sufferer, in days past,- from rheumatism, and the wetting which would, to most men in my apparent health, be a mere nothing, may prove a serious matter to me, without the cau- tion you advise." In ten minutes after, he was sitting at his ease, in the arm- chair, arrayed in Mark's Sunday suit, that fitted him moderately well, and chatting with his host, while the careful Bessy hung the damp garments over a couple of chairs, placed upon the hearth. The guest was a man already past the meridian of life, a circum- stance indicated by his frosted hair, and Time's unmistakable pencil-strokes in the region of the eyes and mouth. He was still erect, and, as he said, seemingly robust in health ; his step was firm, his gaze clear and penetrating, and his voice had a sweetness and volume, a rich quality of tone that charmed the listener, like NEMESIS. t5 the fill chords of a musical instrument. His manner was natural and easy, evincing an eminently social temperament. "I do not complain of the rain," he said, glancing at the dim and streaming window. "Even while exposed to it, I was forced to acknowledge that the risk of possible illness to myself was of trifling consequence in comparison with the benefit others would derive from the timely shower. I am enough of a farmer to appreciate the ruinous consequences of a drought in spring." It was a common-place remark, but it threw down the barriers of reserve, and Mark was led on until he found himself using a freedom of speech he had not enjoyed before, save with his wife, in this land of strangers. The eye of his guest dwelt on him with more interest each moment; he was evidently surprised at the correct language, and intelligent views expressed by a man in so lowly a station, and curiosity prompted him to push his inquiries, as far as delicacy would sanction investigation, into his previous history. One happy discovery facilitated the progress of their acquaintance. It was Mark's avowal of his religious sentiments and church membership. The stranger's face kindled with a glow of affectionate emotion. In Christ Jesus all are brethren," he said; "I am more than thankful for the storm that pelted me to this shelter. I am thoroughly familiar with this section of our State, and regard the residence of every evangelical Christian here as a 'light shining in a dark place.' The. people of this vicinity are intelligent, refined, and hospitable; but there is a lamentable dearth of church privileges, and a .consequent apathy-a sort of fashionable indifference to religion, that- is more discouraging than pagan ignorance. You may do great good-here." - "The way may be opened to me," replied Mark. "But to speak honestly, if I had not been misinformed--I hope undesign- edly-with regard to the opportunities for attending public wor- ship, nothing would have tempted me to choose this spot as a page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 NExMESIS. home. It is so different in my native place, and I was so unpre- pared for the state of things I have since found :here, that H took too much for granted. It is a fearful responsibility for a man to turn his back upon the sanctuary and' the means of grace God has appointed and -blessed-particularly; .when there are those connected with him, -who might -also be profited by the preaching of the word, and intercourse with the Lord's people." "Yet Providence may have-but, why do I, say nmay have? God has sent you hither, for purposes of-his own. ' His ways are not as our ways,' and He often makes- life's darkest day seem the brightest, when we lookback over our lives- at their close. Some secrets he leaves for eternityto expl6n,-and to many he graciously grants us the key, while we are: still in the flesh. Do you see this?" He held up his arm; and Mark discovered what Bessy's quick eye had perceived at his entrance-that he had lost a hand, its place being supplied by a silver plate. "Your countenances tell me that you are shocked, and that you pity my unhappy plight," continued the visitor. "The mis- fortune, as it was then styled, overtook me when I was a boy, and was the means, in the-Almighty's wisdom, -of altering the whole purpose of my life. It made me a-student-the student became a minister of the everlasting Gospel.. Dare I regret it now?" "You have learned the use of afflictions," said, :Mark, with increased respect. "Many study them, perhaps quite as carefully as you have done, without seeing the end from the way." Their duty is none the less plain on that account. It is to wait on the Lord and. be of good courage, believing that 'He will strengthen their hearts.' Every step from the cradle to the grave is numbered, and so is every afiction; and had we no other support, when trouble is sent upon us, there is some com- fort- in reflecting that when we have suffered one, there are fewer - , NEMESIS. - " to suffer. Here, on earth, we need leading about and instruct- ing, and we are such dunces that, many times, we refuse to receive instruction, except by painful discipline. The rain is over, and I promised to meet some friends at dinner-time. My clothing is dry, I think, madam-thanks to your goodness I "I wish I could say how much obliged I am to you both," he said, when he was ready to go. "Say nothing on that score, sir," interrupted Mark. "The pleasure and advantage have been on our side. I May I make so free as to ask a favor of you, before you leave us " , "Assuredly!" with an expression that showed he anticipated and approved its nature. "It has been a weary time since our home was honored by the presence of a minister, sir. Will you pray with us, that the blessing of God may follow this visit?" The modest grace and fervor of the request went to the heart of the guest. Without further reply than was given hy his kindling eye, he took the Bible Mark presented, and read the psalm, from which he had quoted: "The Lord is my light and -my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?", The opening sentence of his prayer was the key-note to thest, and Mark could have believed it the utterance of an angel, who had lingered near, during the preceding conversation: "We bless thee, O Father, that none of thy children need ever faint in heart, for who of us has not seen the goodness of the Lord in the- land of the living?" . There were tears- on Bessy's cheek, when she arose from! her knees, and Mark's spirit bounded in the hope that the:- daii( d blessing might be already near at hand A holycalm :a be : I the twilight of that Saturday evening, kept by them, with the strictness of puritanical usage. And, in conformity with the general tendency of blessings to gather into groups, there came. page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 . NEMESIS. at bed-time, a messenger from Miss Barbara, with a note. It was scrawled in haste, and original i spelling and punctuation; but Mark made out that several ministers had stopped over Sabbath, at Ben Lomond, and that there would be two sermons at Deep Run the next day; furthermore, that Miss Barbara would call for them-" and Kitty " was underscored-on her way to church. They were ready in the morning long before she came by. The Ben Lomond coach had, gone on to church, and four or five gen- tlemen on horseback ; among them, their late visitor, who bowed and waved his hand in passing. Then, the rumbling of other wheels revived Kitty's flagging spirits. There was no mistake this time. Miss Barbara's vehicle was a blue-bodied, springless wagon, without a top; her coursers were four stout mules, employed on week-days in the drudgery of the plantation. The bottom of the wagon was lined with straw, and split-bottomed chairs were prepared for her companions--a low one for Kitty amongst them. "All right!" said the housekeeper, squaring herself to sustain the expected joltings. "Drive on, Reuben I and don't shake all the life out of us-you hear I We'd as lief hear one more Gospel sermon,. as not." Deep Run was but two and a half miles distant, and this space was accomplished with shaking frames and chattering teeth, but whole bones. Posthoys had been sent in various directions, the afternoon before, to apprise the neighbors of the intended services, and the news had travelled, by its own weight, as it were, from one plantation to another. Of this the Hales were ignorant, and' the large gathering in and around the church was an incompre- hensible enigma to them. Miss Barbara and Bessyhad difficulty in securing seats within the building, and Mark stood the whole while. His situation afforded him a view of the congregation, which he would not have exchanged for the most comfortable bench there. NEMESIS. 79 It was a motley gathering as to sex, age and condition. His mental description of his emotions at the contemplation, was in the words of the Book in which he was best read : (- "The rich and the poor meet together. The Lord is the maker of them all." "I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise; with a multitude that kept holy day." The pulpit, a narrow box, without drapery or cushion, was, according to the laws then governing church architecture, elevated above the heads of the audience, and resembled an honorable pillory. It was empty, and our hero soon identified the ninisters in half a dozen gentlemen, sitting on a form, to the left of the uninviting rostrum. They were men who bore the title of "Reverend," like those who had won it hardly, and carried with it a load of responsi- bility, that, but for help from a higher Power, would have crushed body and soul. There were giants in those days; instruments,. welded and tempered for the age; Jehus, who drove furiously over the corpses of superstition, and the brutal -opposition of igno- rant depravity; Isaiahs, mighty in -the Lord, who reasoned and' menaced and prophesied in his name ; Jeremiahs, who, mourned from the wrung depths of brothers' hearts, because "the hurt of the daughter of their people was not healed;"Johns, austerein life and demeanor ; indifferent whether they strode upon flowers or thorns, if only they might make His paths straight; and Pauls, calm of front and courteous in bearing, yet ready, wi'th the double-edged Damascus blade of logic and eloquence, to combat the sophistry of the schools, and penetrate the thick' bosses of hardened unbelief. They were not rose-water philan- thropists ; not bombastic praters about the Real, the Mystic, the Esthetic; not popular caterers to the morbid taste for the novel, the doubtful, the fantastic. Instead of eulogizing Earnestness, page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 Q NEMESIS. they lived and died heroes, each with his harness on ; instead of, in words, deifying humanity, their deeds proved how sublime a thing it could be made, when the Spirit of the Lord made its dwelling-place in the creatures formed after His image. y "The prophets-do they live for ever? and the fathers-where are they?" Gone with the generation that entertained them un- awares, or with a feeble glimmering of their character and aims. They rest from their labors-and their works I who can deny that they follow them? Is not their imperishable record to be read in the hill-side and grove churches; the stately spires of the fair land they loved with true patriots' pride? the voice of prayer and praise from thousands of family altars, whose foundations they laid; the noble band of working Christians, to whom they bequeathed the legacy of pastoral instruction and fatherly, blessings? Mark had been accustomed to witness and practise the utmost gravity and decorum in- the sanctuary, and the buzZng, heaving crowd that now thronged the edifice, was, to him, shocking in its novelty. "Will they ever remember in whose presence they are?" he wondered, in grief and annoyance.. From among the band of ministers was uplifted a voice so sweet, so powerful, that every ear lent instant attention. The words were known to Mark, and, as was presently abparent, to many others also: "There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Inimmanuels veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains , "The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain, in his day; And there may I, 'though vile as he, - Wash all my sins away. NEMXESIS. 81 "Dear, dying Lamb I! thy precious blood Shall never lose its power, 'Till all the ransomed church of God Be saved, to sin no more. "Ere since by Faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming:Love has been my theme, And shall be-'till I die. "Then, in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing Thy power to save, When this poor, lisping, stammuering-tongue Lies silent in the grave." The melody, wild and plaintive, was raised by- hundreds :of voices; the negroes, who surrounded the- building,. and packed doors and windows, joining in, with the might of their strong lungs ; yet, audible above all, 'strengthening and directing .the rolling volume of song without one strained or false note, was that wonderful voice. The music had calmed afid harmonized the incongruous crowd, and three ministers ascended the pulpit stairs. The preMirmatry exercises were conducted by strangers; the preacier was. the chorister, who had led the hymn, and likewise the Hales' provi- dential acquaintance. - - Re will not come unto me that ye might have life," pro- nounced in his sonorous, musical accents, with a mournful em- phasis, fixed the interest of his auditors, -and he did not lose it to the end of his discourse. To the furtiest verge of the assemblage, x in-doors and out, rang tones like a silver- trumpet, stirring all pulses and quickening many hearts. Persuasive, urgent, alarming, always earnest-he set forth the oft-told, ever-new story of redemption ; threw wide the doors of :meriy, and pointing alter- nately to Calvary and to Sinai, implored -and warned his hearers -4 page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 NEMESIS. to enter. It was a sermon long remembered in the community; the precious date to some, of the beginning of the better life. There was a recess, and a second sermon, sound and able% but less impressive than that of the forenoon, concluded the day's exercises. "That last preacher is a Doctor of Divinity," remarked Miss Barbara, as she climbed into her wagon. "He's a mighty smart man, they say--one of the pillars of the church ; but for my part, I would not give Mr. Laidley for two of him. He's the people's man, and a blesseder never lived on this sinful earth." "A poor conclusion, Miss Barbara!" said a voice behind her, that made her start. "Do not be deluding my friends-who, I am pleased to see are yours also,--with such heretical ideas. I stepped up to bid you ' farewell,'" continued Mr. Laidley to the Hales, who were still standing upon the, ground. "Let me thank you for your sermon, sir," said Mark. "I shall never forget it." "You will have something to remember me by, -then. It is well, for I am loath to think of my passing entirely from your minds. We may hevermeet again this side of our everlasting home. I hope to see and know you there. The Lord bless and keep you and yours!" He shook hands with- both; raised Kitty for a kiss, and they parted-to meet again?-and where? ^- i' N NE E S I S 83 CTTAPPiEt VYI. WITH the march of summer, the sun of prosperity beamed con- !S. j stantly upon our emigrants. The simile of the bee-hive, when applied to their habitation, was more pertinent than ever. The homely, cheerful creepers screened the sides of the house and par- tially thatched the roof; while within, the, life of busy seclusion went on patiently and brightly. Ben Lomond was ai*ve with company all the season; but the foaming cataract of gaiety cast scarcely a drop into the limpid spring of domestic peace. Bun- yan's shepherd-boy wore not more of the " herb called Hearts-ease in his bosom," than did the artisan and, his faithful wife. - The tug of life's battle was over, they ventured to believe, and, so far as mortal vision could pierce the cloudy Future, everything promised well for the fulfiilment of their hopes. In July there were renewed rejoicings in the Argyle connection over the return of the collegian son., He, like his sisters, was a great deal from home. - Twice a day the -Hales saw him gallop along the lane, on his fiery young horse-rumor said, bound to and from Mr. Selden's, for his attachment to that gentleman's eldest daughter was talked of seriously, as each neared the age of discretion. Kitty learned to know his swift tramp, and would dart to the door to drop her pretty courtesy, in response to the bow and hail, that never failed her' Two or three times he checkedhis speed at the fence which now shut in- he front yard, an d chatted with Mark about his garden and his prospects; his mien and language bespeaking him the thorough gentleman, page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 8 N;.EMESI6. who feared no contamination from intercourse with an honest man, however despised his calling might be in the public esteem. "He has none of the family pride about him," said Bessy, one day, as he cantered away, after one of these calls. "None of the family haughtiness, you mean," answered Mark. "I am mistaken if he has not more pride and strength of will than any of the- rest; .and he would show it out, if he were placed -in circumstances that tried him. He is a noble boy I What'a pity, he should be spoiled by the world 1" - -Why must he?" ' It is not certain, but there is a reasonable probability that he will be. He is hemmed in by temptations, from which a poor mai's son would be saved by his povbrty. Do you not see and hear how he is courted and flattered by high and low?" -"He deserves it, I am sure," !-Idon't deny that, either. He is rich, handsome, spirited, clever-everything that goes to make up a desirable companion over the bottleand in the ball-room. I wish that he remembered !hfimother. It might be a safe-guard." "He does. He was six years old when she died." "Pictures of persons and things seen at that age, would be very indistinct by the time- tent years had passed, unless great- pains were taken to keep them 'before the child's mind. - If it werenot that- Mr. Argyle has heard frequent descriptions of his mother's, appearance and sayings, I question whether the fact of his ever having known her would not seem like a'dream to him."' "How you talk, Mark:! - There is Kitty, who was four years old last-week. - Do you suppose,. if I were taken away, she would not recollect me when she is grown up?" "Hwill, suppose nothing upon such an unlikely ' if," answered Mark:,playfully.: "You, are to ive to dandle your grandchildren, andsit in the chimney corner with yourpipein your moutfi, as Miss Barbara does, much as you dislike tobacco now i N E M- E-RJ I B. ' 8- ?EMESIS. ' 85: Kitty and her kitten took a stroll by themselves that afternoon up to the bend in the road, beyond which they were forbidden ever to go, without the protection of some person older than her- self. At the extreme limit of her promenade, the child sat down i sr . under a chinquapin bush, full of -green burrs that would be -^ brown in the autumn, and strained her eyes'longingly toward the $' distant gate of Ben Lomond. A day with "/Aunt Barbara" was a more common luxury to her than to her parents ; but these pleasures were very far apart, indeed, to her imagination. She j dearly loved their benefactress-for such she was, to-the Gexireme of her ability-and she was, child-like, fond of variety, even im her happy life, The beautiful dresses and flashing jewels, the flowers, feathers and furbelows of the Misses Argyle and their associates, as they flitted through the porches and halls, and occasionlly paused in the housekeep&'s room, to consult or interrogate that functionary, were like glimpses of Fairyland to Kitty. They paid no heed to her, after they had once inquired of Miss Barbara who she was, and she had come not to expect their notice. - - Old Mr. Argyle was there several times each day; crossaind fidgety, she considered him, and always crept into Miss: Bar- bara's bedchamber:when she heard his step and cane approaching. She betook herself- to no such retreat when-MalColm' s free tread. and cheery whistle drew near. - He, too, -ought "Aunt Bab^? in every strait, but it wa as a friend and foster-mother. -Did he have one of his bad headaches-he lay-down uponi her settee; his head in her lap, and Kitty was permitted to hold-the smelling bottle, or the saucer of vinegar and water to wet the brownapaper bound about his forehead. "Aunt, Bab' :always kneww-where-to, find the missing whip or powder-flask ; her -needle was always -at- hand to replace a lost button, or to take the timely stitch that saves nine. And for recreation, there. was the exhaBtiess: fin: -of teazing isw attached nr, who scolded whie he: petea,na s lively romp with his -little favorite, e nenever oarloofkegok leri:or page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 E I s .^ forgot to speak to her; and baby as she was, she regarded him with an ardent and admiring devotion, whose depth even her mother did not fathom, although the child's prattle was con- tinually of "Mr. Malcolm," and the kind and funny things he did :and said. Brains as immature as hers are capable of devising schemes, and of concealing them. Bessy had not a suspicion why Kitty's afternoon ramble was so often "up the road-just to the turning-please, mamma 1" : Still more would the mother have been puzzled by the eager glances, cast in the direction of the cottage, as the reddening sky and stretching shadows announced the usual hour of Malcolm's return. The black eyes were larger and more wistful, each moment, and, seen under the green leaves, might have been mis- taken for those of 'a startled fawn, crouching to escape her pur- suers. * He was very late I Mamma would be waiting supper for her, - and, papa maybe come to look for her, and then -she should not see him at all to-night I and her lip trembled at the thought. A cloud of dust in the distance drew her once from her covert. Her -heart beat fast and loud, and her tiny hands clasped each other nervously. But it was only 'Pollo, driving :his-cows home, with - a great ado of yelping from himself, and barking from his dog. She was so glad he did not have to pass this way I Her throat ached so badly that she would be sure to cry if she tried to speak. It was amusing, yet pitiful, to see the disappomitment in the little creature's face, as she sunk againto her seat in the long grass, and laid her head on her knees. .Hark I that was certainly the tranlp of a horse's feet on- the gravelly road, and nobody else rode so fast I He was coming I She m ust stand up, or he might not see her. She did not aspire to speaking with him. lHer modest ambition:I as to catch his eye ad :a smile-:perhaps a( Good evening, Kitfty l" if he were tot in too much bif a hurry. The uneonscious object of all this innocet idolatry; the sub- N E M ESIS. 87 ject of these guileless manoeuvres, rode right onward and toward his worshipper. Kitty's taste. was not to be cavilled at. Many a maiden, whose age quadrupled hers, would have sat as willingly and longer by the roadside, for the mere chance of getting a look or a word from him. His fair hair was blown back by his rapid motion through the evening air; his cheeks glowing, and his lips X5 parted in a smile, that told of zestful, enjoyment in his- glorious present, and all a youth's sanguine reachings toward brighter ; days beyond.' His- dark-blue eyes looked 'straight ahead, and - their level rays were so far above Kitty's stature, that she invo- luntarily advanced a pace into the road. The mettled steed sprang madly aside, and the unguarded rider was hurledito the ground. With a frightened neigh, the horse sped back over the route he had come, leaving the harmless cause of Ms panicsalone with his master, Mark was busy in the garden as the animal dashed past, and dropping his hoe, and calling to his wife to follow him, he ran in search of the unfortunate boy. He was stretched senseless upon the stony soil, and from his temple, a stream- of blood welled slowly through Kitty's fingers, which were pressedo passionately upon the wound. With the utmost care, and with difficlty, the husband and wife bore the lifeles form to their cottage. Mark got him: upon the bed, and, after instructing Bessy to staunch the blood, and use whatrestoratives they had in the house, he-set off to give the alatm atBen Lomond. Miss Barbara was the earliest of Malcolm's kousehold on; the spot. She wasted no time in lamentations, but, aided by Bevsy, went diligently about the fearfully uncertain task-of recalling lif to a form it seemed to have deserted for- ever. A gasp,-changing to a groan, broke from the wounded lad, as his father entered the room. The haughty man stood aghast at the unearthly sound adti endeavored' v:aito speak. l He is reviving, sir,f said :Mark, answering toe agonized look' page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 N E M E 8 IS. that appealed to him. "He has not moved or spoken, until this instant. I hope that his injury is less serious than we feared." "Where is he? how is he?" cried, Miss Argyle, rushing into the room. "Good Heavens I is he killed?" she screamed, as she beheld the pale and bloody lineaments of her brother. "Back!" Miss Barbara pushed her away from the bed. "He is not dead, but he will be, soon, if you keep up that racket. There are enough of you in here to smother him. Mr. Hale, take her into the other room, and everybody else, except your wife; she's of some use'." "I think we had better go, indeed, sir," said -Mark, very reeetfully, to Mr. Argyle. "The place is small, and we crowd it,;- he needs all the air he can get, and Miss Brook will attend to-everything that can be done, until the doctor comes." The father assented by a nod, and turned to go ; but another hollow groan sent'a shudder through his frame, .and he staggered. Mark caught him--valmost carried him into the outer apartment and placed him in a chair. A glass of water dispelled the faint- ness, bat he was completely unnerved. He g ped the toil- hardened hand of the man whose shoulder supp:orted him, and burst. into tears. Mark's own heart was ready to break. He could only return the pressure, and stood; looking down upon the afflicted parent, with an expression of sincere and tender sympa - thy, ;4 Eleanor wandered about :he: roiom, weeping and wringing her hands, watching at window and door, and wishing aloud that the doctor would come. He' arrived sooner- than. they had any reason to expect him; one bf the dozen messengers dispatched in search of him; hairing overtaken-him but two miles away. His report did not- quiet- the terrible suspense'that oppressed the waiting lhearts, iagin g upon his verdict. Itwas impossible, at-presenti to ascertain the nature and, extent of his injuries, he said, guardedly.-' Miss Brook and Mhimself wontild atch with him, duriig ithe nighty and no one else must enter the room. NEMESIS,. 89 "You'd better go home l" said Miss Barbara to Eleanor. Bessy was grieved and- surprised at her sharp tone., It was' cruel to scold the poor sister, in the height of her distress. "It is a pity to send her away," she whispered. She might as well have held her peace. "You are of no earthly account here," continued the inexo- rable housekeeper. "If you want to help, send Sarah to me. There are fifty things she must look after." I a gentler manner, she addressed Mr. Argyle, "There's no danger just now, sir, and I will let you know if there's the least change in the night. Better go home and rest, if you- can. There is no accommodations here for you, you see, and if there wea,von couldn't do any good by staying. There's the carriage now; sai Keep up a brave heart. The Lord may bring him through, safe and sound, yet.' Mr. Argyle submitted with surprising meekness, and Eleanor, too, obeyed the order so peremptorily delivered. *They felt, instinctively, that the authority was not to be- disputed, and, anxiety, for the time, swallowed up pride. "Barbara," said the shaking voice of the old man, from .the, carriage. , "All right, sir I Here I am." . "Take care of my boy-for-his--mothes-ake l- e - "Never fear, - I He's my child, too I1" with an answering tremor in the words. - - Not until they:had driven away and, Dr. Chase was;doseted with Miss Barbara m the 'sick-chamber, did Bessy haven oppo tunity to see after her child. She had been overlooked Mi-;the universal excitement, and the mother's search for her in tte lower rooms and the loft, wMther she faneied ,Fhtmightai t q-r e pt,-w, fruitless. .Mak;h ad gone to Ben Lomqn dogaan:e:n dforik' Barbara, and ::essy,; ow really a wrmed for thel fety of her darling, must yet be noiseless in, her quVest. Itwasstfrlight page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 NEMESIS. but she groped, rather than saw her way, in the dense shade of trees, calling softly for the lost one, when at a little distance from the house. A mew and a purr saluted her as she stole by the back door, leading from Malcolm's chamber, and she perceived some object lying near the steps. A touch informed her that it was what she sought. The child was extended on the ground, face downward, land so still, that but for the signal of her dumb friend, the mother's solicitous eyes would not have discovered her. She straggled feebly, as she was taken up, but a word of caution stilled her. Bessy carried her into the kitchen, and set her upon her lap. -The iNght revealed the rounded contour of a child's face, with the anguish of womanhood fixed in each feature. The contracted forehead, the wild eye and drawn mouth were terrible for the mother to look upon. Her fond kiss could not alter their expres- - sion,-- or elicit a word of response to her inquiries. The small hands were streaked with dark-red stains and soiled with mould, and her dress bore similar marks of her late adventure. Bessy's instinct of neatness was never dormant. Fetching a basin of ;water, she washed off the dirt, and brushed out the matted curls, talking all the while in soft, soothing tones. "There is. nothing to frighten my little girl now.- Poor Mr. Malcolm has gone to sleep, and will be better to-morrow, we hope. Mamma will give Kitty some supper, and presently, papa will bring a bed from Mr. Argyle's for us to sleep on in here. We cannot go into our chambers to-night, for the doctor says everything must be very quiet, or Mr. Malcolm may get worse." - Kitty appeared to drink .in every syllable; but her eye wan- dered constantly to the closed door of the other room, and: her silence awoke her mothers most fearful apprehensions. Had the shock struck her dumb--or worse-deprived her of reasofi? She caught her to her heart convulsively, at the suggestion; then put N E M E S I S . 91 her down, and unlatching the middle door, beckoned hastily to the doctor. He obeyed on the instant; but looked fretted when he saw that the kitchen had but two occupants. "What?" asked he, abruptly; "I can't stay a minute " - Mastering herself as well as she could, Bessy represented the case according to her comprehension of it. "Humph I He's either frightened or sulky; or, more likely than either, pretending to be unable to speak," he said, drawing Kitty to him. "What fills you, young one? I reckon your mother could find a way to make you speak, if she chose. You've heard of such things as switches-haven't you!" "Don't be cross with her. She is not used to it!" interposed Bessy, reddening with suppressed anger at this rough- treatment. "She is frightened almost to death now." "Very well I If you can manage the case better than, I can, you do not need me any longer, returned Dr. Chase, coolly. And, without another word, he walked back to his former post, by the pillow of his slumbering patient. Bessy was holding the speechless, shivering child in her anrs, her own fast-dropping tears bedewing the rigid face, whew- Mis Barbara appeared. A very few sentences of explanation sufficed for her. . "Jest like him I The unfeeling brute!" she ejaculated. "i'll be bound I can get- something out, of him, or out of his saddle- bags, that will do her good. Jest wait here two seconds*? Her mode of dealing with the " brute" was probably :as sum- mary as she had threatened; for she was out again-presently with a phial in her hand. "The money-worshippjing hypocrite i" she continued to-berate'- -him, as she dropped the anodyne. "He was aftaid tho snub -me, because I might tell. tales to those that can pay him wsell. Be tween him and Sancroft, there'd be no poor people left in the land if they had their way. 'Thank, goodne$ :they haven't I -'* , - page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 N E M E"S I S. When it comes to that, jest let me know, and I'll leave, without being invited out--I'm obliged to you 1' Bessy heard these mutterings, not- knowing that she did so, until they were recollected some months later. With an unnecessary parting shake of the bottle, Miss Barbara clutched the spoon savagely, and came toward Kitty. "Now, Mousey "--assuming the most coaxing air and modula- tions, of which countenance and voice were susceptible-" you will take this, like a sweet baby, and go to sleep in mammals arms-or in your own pretty little crib. You'd rather have that, hadn't you?" -The child did not offer to open .her mouth, and answered by a vacant stare. "Kitty will be sick, if she does not swallow the medicine," argued Bessy, tremulously. "Oh if Mark would only come home I She always minds him." "She will do it to please Aunt Barbara--won't you, Mousey? Why, what will I do, if you don't get a nice long nap, and ain't wellenough by morning, to help me nurse Mr. Malcolm?. There, I told you so I It is gone-every drop I That's the best child in the land-and I've always -stuck to it I Now, Mrs. Hale, slip on her night-gown, and I'll lift in her crib. I can do it without a mite of noise." She accomplished the feat in defiance of the doctor's whispered remonstrances. "I will not be answerable for the consequences," he said, when she motioned to him to let her pass. ' Nobody wants you to be!" puffed she, pushing on with her burden. Kitty was laid, unresisting, in her bed. Miss Barbara tucked the coverlet around-her, and kissed her. The child's arms were about her neck, when she would have arisen. The poor little face worked painfully. X EME-S I S. 93 "What is it, my baby?" asked the pitying spinster. "I made his horse throw him 1" broke forth in an hysterical shriek, that caused Dr. Chase to intrude his head and a caustic reprimand. , "You wasn't called" snapped Miss Barbara; and at this shot he retreated. "What does she mean?" wondered Bessy. "Never mind, now I There I there 1 don't cry loud, dear, or you'll disturb Mr. Malcolm.' You wouldn't do that for anything, you know."' "No, maamn.1' Kitty smothered her sobs, and the tears streamed, healthfully. "I 'spose the horse jumped to one side, and threw Mr. Mal- colm, when he saw you in the road. That was the way .of, it- wasn't it, Mousey? - "Yes, ma'am. But I didn't mean to scare him-l O, degar she sobbed. . "Yes! yes I we know that, baby. It was all the horse's fault -not a bit of it yours. He would have behaved just as badly-if you had been a stump or a rock. I've seen him do it, time and time again. He's an ugly, vicious creatur', that no man in his senses would -ride, without he was one of your dare-everything, afraid-of-nothing sort--like the dear fellow in there., She sighedi -but covered it with a smile, seeing that Kittyls eye was upon her. "So, you see, it couldn't be helped, -dear. Now, pray to God that he may get well, and when you wake up, maybe he'll be able to tell yqu that he knows you were not to blame, and that he loves his little 'Kitty- Puss,' as much as ever he did." : , * f' X 8\ page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] "A4- N E ME SIS. CH APTER VII. IT was a trying season'of waiting and watching that elapsed before. the wounded youth could give the assurance of forgiveness and affection to the heart that ached so remorsefully. For ten days, there existed a strong probability that the male succession of the honorable house of Argyle would cease with him who was now owner of the name and estate. For ten days and nights, Miss Barbara stood guard above her boy, refusing all relief, except that, of an hour's sleep, when- he was comparatively composed, and then she would resign in favor of no one but 'Bessy. They two watched sadly and eagerly on one side of his bed-Death, hun- grily upon the other. For ten days, the laird's restless wander- ings over house and plantation, were with an Uncertain step and haggard face, and an unwonted abstinence from fault-finding. It mattered little-so said his aspect-a few pounds more or less, when he, who he had intended should inherit all his hoards, might never again set foot upon the broad acres or handle the bright gold. For ten days, the sisters Eleanor and Jessie rode twice daily to the shoemaker's cottage, and returned in tears and terror, from the beside -f their late robust and merry brother, to mope away the hours in vain endeavors to forget or disbelieve the dan- ger -that had scared the gay birds from Ben Lomond, and -put a stop'to their, schemes and thoughts of pleasure. For ten days, Marcia Selden gazed,.with heart-beats thick and fast, for the messenger whose regular duty it was to bring intelligence from the*'sick-room, and hated, as fervently as it was in her nature to NEM ESIS . 95 hate anything, the stern law of propriety, that banished her from her boy-lover's side. Then there was a change-it might be for better, it might be for worse ; and in the hour of agonized suspense, the father knelt by the pillow of his unconscious son, and prayed aloud to the mother's God, that this cup might not be given him to drink. And, when removed from the apartment, he besought Mark, the "Iow-born mechanic," to pray with him and for him, that the boon might not be denied; It was granted. To Naturei and to her unwearied assistants, the Lord of life gave the victory. But the work was not -done with the rescue of the sick one from present and apparent danger. He was still-to lie for tedious hours and days in that humble room, watching, with a conva- lescent's listless amusement, the light sifting through the lattice of morning-glories'; the hollyhocks, thrusting their heads between the leaves, like bold, curious women, with flaunting hoods and shameless faces ; the stray flies, that, having no fear of Miss Bar- bara's, peacock plumes before their eyes, crawled busily, and gossipped sociably upon the beams and boards-that .supplied the place of a ceiling; the slow, gentle oscillations of the green and blue feathers, and the form and face of her who waved them. Until noon, Miss Barbara usually presided as chief nurse ; but household concerns at Ben Lomond required her supervision, and were not neglected after she could reconcile it with conscience and feeling, to leave her charge for a part of each day. Thus, it came to pass, that when he awoke from the noon-day nap, now as habitual with him as it had been in infancy, he found ip the. stead of the homely, yet beloved visage that had met his closing eye, the younger- and more comely countenance of his hostess. In his -" weakness, he learned to love her gentle ministrations- and affeo tionate demeanor. Every hour's observation enhanced his heart- felt respect-for the interesting pair into whose care he had been thrown. All that he had heard and read of virtue in the homes ' r ' . page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 N E EMEB I S. of the lowly ; of gems, that shone the purer for the poverty of their setting; of the honor belonging, by conquest, to the self-made man, here had its-exemplification, and, heightened by the romantic coloring of youthful fancy, 'was a source of liveliest pleasure. He was forbidden to converse, in his extreme weakness, but his eye and smile were ready and eloquent interpreters of thought. It was an era in Kitty's history--the day she was admitted to his chamber. Her mother had cautioned her to be very'still and to remain only a minute. Malcolm's blue eyes danced when she entered, trembling all over with excitement, delight and bashful- ness. "Kitty!" he said, feebly. Miss Barbara's finger was up, and he was mute, but motioned to her to hold the child down to him, that he might kiss her Then he passed his long thin fingers over her. curls, and smiled sadly, asi he laid, his wasted hand beside her pink and dimpled one. , After that, he would have her -pay him a visit, both morning and afternoon, and stay longer each time, until she was promoted to the dignity of fanning him and keeping the flies away. It was a- joy to both, when leave was granted for him to amuse himself with her, prattle, a recreation which the prudent sub-nurse was watchful should never grow wearisome in length. Kitty was a vivacious and loving creature, and, Malcolm must have become fond of her, had he been rich in other objects of affection, which was far from being the case. Nothing with relation to their landlord's family impressed Bessy more disagreeably than the evident lack of concord; the absence of all bonds of mutual sym- 'pathy. She saw clearly that the attentions his sisters would have rendered Malcolm; if only for the sake of :appearances, were distasteful to him. He was even peevish, if they were persistent in their- offers of service, and at length, having, one day, fretted through a call of extraordinary duration from the' two, he told -th-kough 'a *af TY I? E M NEMESIS. 97 Miss Barbara flatly, in Bessy's hearing, that they " teazed him almost out of his senses and quite out of all patience;" that the rustle of starch and silk offended -his nerves of hearing; their French perfumes and pomatum nauseated him, and their ringed fingers hurt his head, when they bathed it. With commendable gravity, Miss Barbara hearkened to this list- of grievancesand engaged that none of them should torment him oftener than a show of decent respect for his relatives required it; and what she promised, she performed. But the elements of pride and contempt for'whatever was socially inferior to themselves, which had been quelled in- the Argyle circle by the shadow of Death, the leveller, reviving with the retirement of the Terror, secretly, but surely plotted the destruction of the peace in which Malcolm revelled. Their first ebullition was in the regrets expressed by Miss Argyle to-:-her father, that Malcolm had not been brought home immediately upon the occurrence of the, accident. It was not much further, she said, and the least sense of propriety would have sufficed to dictate this course. Perhaps " those people ' had not thought of this. It was unreasonable to expect delicacy of thought or behavior from them. -Itfwas natural, and therefore the more pardonable in them, to seize upon this providential opportuaity of intercourse with those aboe them. It reflected-a sort of honor upon them; no doubt secured them distinction in their class, to have Mr. Argyle's son under their roof, for such a long time- and then the remuneration they were expecting-in plainm terms their pay for boarding and tending him, was a consideration to' persons in their circumstances. Her last hit told, if the rest had fallen short of the mark. A- stab in' the region of her father's pocket-nerve, would quickenfiis sensibilities, when nothing else would. .?- . "The choice of a hospital was none of mine," -he -saistify, "and they have no right-to make out: any bitl slier a -.:i Ve J page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 . NEMESIS. endured ;more inconvenience in consequence of his being there, than they can possibly have experienced. And, as to nursing-- what are you thinking of, Eleanor? Has not Barbara been there, from the hour of his accident? Have not I supplied a bed, in place of the one Malcolm occupies; and do you sup- pose that a sick man' can devour one-third of the provisions Sarah carries down, every morning, by Barbara's orders? No I if the truth were knowp,. Ihave supported the whole family, and had nothing in return, except anxiety and fatigue. I will offer them a-ahem I. somethinghy way of a present, when Malcolm comes away; but if a regular account is presented, I shall hand it over to Sancroft, and order him to dispute it as sure as my name is Argyle 1' This affirmation had, with him, all the sense of an oath. Miss Jessie giggled. "Isn't it' funny that Malcolm,: our brother, shou1d be sick in such a place? A log-house, with two rooms, and no ceiling, and a shoemaker's sign over the door I I declare, I have killed myself twenty times, laughing at the idea." Her father was red to the roots of his powdered hair. As was his custom, if the expression of his feelings would betray him into intemperate speech, and thereby endanger his dignity, he pursed his mouth tightly, and, grasping his cane, stalked out of the apart- ment. Miss Eleanor nodded satisfiedly at her sister, who laughed, as she lay; back upon the sofa. She was a blonde, with a wide, low brow, so smooth and white, it-seemed,,as if care and anger would never find there a resting- place; light-blue eyes, alternately laughing and indolent; pouting- coral lips, and within them a set of-even teeth;,she liked to dis- play.. Her head was a mop of yellow curls, golden, as her admirers declared, and they lauded them on the stage, as heartily as her maid, behind the scenes, hated them. Well she might- poor girl : -for Jessie's characteristicewas laziness. She had been fa diate infant and child, and although now in perfect health, atp -ifn ada N E M E 8 I S. 99 would not, or could not, relinquish the habits then formed. At school, she was a dunce; in her family, a nonentity; in society, a belle.- To maintain the reputation of the latter, she was willing to make others work, if not to exert herself. Ursula, the ill-fated maid, who, for unknown ancestral iniquities, had been appropriated, from her birth to Miss Jessie's service, glowered at all gentlemen visitors to the house, as abettors, with malice prepense, of her torture and toils. She would have parted with half of her own prospects of a husband (and she loved adulation no less than did her mistress), if by so doing she could win assurance that Miss Jessie would never hear another compliment to her figure, feature, complexion-above all, to her hair. The- sole excitement of Jessie's private hours--always excepting the pleasurable duty- of surveying herself in the mirror--was novel-reading; and this draught was sipped with such moderation, that a three volIume octavo was entertainment for the same number of months.' TBhe much-tried Abigail detested the well-thumbed book as cordially as she did the tangled curls, since its appearance was the invariable prelude to a summons to the toilet-table. And while Miss Jessie dreamed over "Pamela," or "Clarissa," or that- e ,and fascinating romance, "The Children of the Abbey.-)the "moral tales," recommended as safe and instructive by our grnawd mothers, for the perusal of their young daughters-the- lu::f hair-dresser plied the comb and brush upon the tresses dishevedd by the wind, or tumbled and matted by lying-reclining,-:Miss Jessie had it-in an easy chair, when there was no :company by to stimulate her tosa sitting posture. The operation was diffiult and hazardous, moreover, forthe- amiable victim could not bear' the twitching of a hair. A. refractory ringlet, resisting all then. influences of soap, water and pomatum, to wheedle it intoi;the right shape and tier,would bring on a-fit of sulks, which lasted until--a beau alighted at the gate. Such was the appearance, and Ulike unto these, were the wiy*: of " * - - * page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 NEMESIS. Miss Jessie Argyle as she sank into-her accustomed Place and attitude, upon the withdrawal of her father. - Her sister's signal informed her that things boded success to their harmless plan for estranging one of their noble line from the presumptuous vulgar- iains, whose growing influence over him they detected and resented as it deserved to- be treated. Eleanor sat by the window that looked down the road. She was watching the gig, which,. at that- hour, every morning, was brought to the gate for Mr. Argyle's visit to his son. She was in her nineteenth year; of a proud order of beauty; in disposi- ,tio;n,:recklessly selfish ; in temper, arrogant and daring. - As her kbother once bitterly described her to herself, her " heart was a witlches' caldron, in which the quintessence of, the family pride and craftiness,: with a spice of lesser vices--meannesses and- the likei-Was- bOiled down; until nothing on earth or in heaven could endire:- the fumes.", : - The lad:was' addicted tohasty and indiscriminating reprobation of whatever irked him ; and Eleanor could afford to smile disdain- fully fat this philippic, remembering that there were scores -of worldlings, who contended for the honor of her .approval, and ' shrunk from the frowns she was, more chary of i' public, thn in heir -home. She: was virtua8l mistress of :Argye-l;,or:she would have: -been, but for two, stumblinghloks, that warned -her tnimaphal car to stake another routfe,i when A she would have ridden -themown with ,the- rest-of her: slas- "-Thi w-ere Miss Bar- balrag,:the faithful nurse and stewardess, whom years ofefficient service had made. indispensable in the establishment ', and the :youngi brother the -future, lord of :the homestead and soil, who aeither feared her wrath nor succumbed- to her arts, and over -whom she was never able to ain one ato more of influeiee than ,was ossessed by the sister :whose iner tess of mind and body she ,7 Thetcaptioust criticwho, in' his dissection: of certain dramtis N M E . ' S XI. 101 persona sketched by us. in other days and other books, clearly proved our creations sui generis-monsters of wickedness, so un- like real men and women, that the pretentious portraiture could only be accepted as just by children, who believe in ogres and vampires; or sneered at others,- where we essayed to .use the lighter colors--as angelic hybrids ; even this dreaded - arbiter of our fate, as a limner, will suspend hisscalpel, in its swift descent upon the character we have just depicted, when he :he has our excuse for its infidelity to-nature. . Our plea is the progress of the human, race. We:. kow?:not quite as well, indeed,- as does the, aby "ei epeeated ritie rebut what do we understand as thoroughl:y?) bUt we are ,p-miay conscious of the fact that there .are no- women like Eleanor Argyle, in these millennial days, upon which we havesfaHl. A girl of our generation, if deprived of her mother when -ig!^L s old, intrusted to the guardianship of a father weak inM 'tiry lng except tanity of personal consequence and love of gv an^ iie education intrusted to a woman who, however good in i'eitfn wanted the prestige ofequal bitrth-and station to enforce hi; ' surrounded -by hordes of sertile dependents, who cajoledt - at, tered to-avoid her diispleasore, and ingr4atiate them Jlv i favor; who- should be sent in the third year of- her orai to school, and passed from one'iistructor to aaother;- til Madame Finiiseslubrication c onsuAmmated her posh d "turn out" quite-:fferently from the- personage-.we.'-evde- scribed.- We surrender, withoutt the- struggle of a opWi:ot the contrary, to the assertion rthat tshewould have oneh- g traits to offset the undenithei defeats in: e regig' ;-ttt- ihe might be high-spiited;admitting:t-is-to be:e l- I her disposition, but :frk, generous atd -!?i: ;:- t - insinuate that -the't I '-e dof; ago ,; bere ,our men y, *Md ltha*t zf4 -S; d that oir gool-iee dtog,: if not our reasot,;io IVl ' ' , ' . ' '\ \ \\ ^ '"'\ ' ^A page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 N E E SIS. remotest hint-the faintest breath of a suspicion-that the pre- sent tense, which asserts the heart to be " deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked," can have any application to '"society," and this, our Anno Domini. But we are writing of old times; the "-former days," which, whatever Solomon meant when he dissuaded- inquiry on that head, our philanthropic students-of their race's history agree in pro- nouncing, unqualifiedly, were not t better than- these." To silence all cavils, we may as well state here, that in that far Long Ago, depraved men and heartless, unprincipled women did exist; and that-w:e have this fact set down in the handwriting, and under the seal of those who were the respectable contemporaries of a class of beings, happily now extihct. 5 "There is Mr. Selden's carriage coming in at our gate!" sud- denly 'exclaimed Eleanor. Mr. Selden had no grown sons, and Jessie yawned in making the inquiry--"Who is in it?". / "Don't be a fool, Jessiel - How can I tell, a quarter of a mile off?" ";"Oh!" and she prepared to rest contentedly, with drooping lids, until the carriag5e should be within easy reach of Eleanor's Optics. "I hope it is Marcia," resumed the elder sister, still scanning the equipage. "Do you? asked Jessie, sleepily. She aroused herself to add, -" she is' Eere pretty often, considering Malcolm is'not at home. It's funny, isn,'tit? "It would 'be strange, or 'funny,' as you say, if she were to' visit here much, when he is at home. It is reported everywhere that they are either engaged, or that they will be soon, and it would be said directly that she is courting him." "I ronder if -they will ever be married," speculated Jessie. ' It is generally supposed that engaged people have some such NEMESIS. 1.03 intention. Malcolm could not do better, in this county, at least. Mr. Selden will leave all his children wealthy.'? "x And at pa's death Ben Lomond goes to Malcolm. They are very young, and may change their minds. It would be a shame, when they suit so well, and would have enough to'live upon," mused Jessie. She was prone to the delivery of commonplaces, in the trance- like state that wrapped her now, her azure orbs misty, and her utterance. muffled and drawling. . : ' "If you ever get a tenth as much, you will have to be more brisk and less silly than I Siave ever seen you", said Eleanor, angrily; " your affectation is insufferable, Jessie." . Jessie laughed, without stirring. "Is not that carriage almost here? I think your friend, Marcia, would enjoy our conversation. I don't believe she knows what pleasant sisters-in-lawr w Will be. Howdo you keep on the right side of her, Nelly? -And Mal- colm is tolerably well acquainted with you, too I Isn't it-funny that he doesn't tell tales out of school l" "I am so glad to see you 1" cried Eleanor, running down .the steps to meet her friend. "My dear Marcia I what a delightful surprise this is. This day seems destined to bring pleasures. We have. the most encouraging news from Malcolm, this mormng. The doctor says he may be removed home next week., Now, you have come to spend the day with me, haven't you? and Ham the happiest girl living." "How is Jessie?" asked. Marcia, her happy face indicative. of 'her emotion at the receipt of Eleanor's apparently-inadvertent communication touching her brother.- "Jessie, here she is I in-:the drawing-room. Sh4:N has -be@n asleep, I think. The pooridear girl is worn out with anxiety and loss of rest. But that will soon be over, now*; - Marcia's kiss was so affectionate that Jessie expanded her eyes in amazement. She never saluted anybody in that fashion, she ' . h page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 N E M E S I 8 . thought; but after ruminating upon the circumstances, she slowly concluded, that if any of the young ladies of her acquaint- ance had rich, handsome brothers, she might be hurried into the same extravagance. "Absolutely her work-bag!' uttered Eleanor, as her visitor, having given her bonnet to a servant, and arranged her hair anew, settled herself for the forenoon. "I am never exactly easy without it," said Marcia, producing a strip of linen, with the threads drawn ready for stitching. "It is against ma's rules to waste anything-especially time." This was spoken in perfect innocence of any personal reflec- tion; but Eleanor's eye stole, unseen by the speaker, to her sister, who had vacated the sofa in favor of a stuffed chair, and sat with her milk-white hands folded, as usual. The sly arrow might have enlightened the sister-in-law expectant as to the hidden reefs beneath the current, that ran so smoothly on the surface, but she was too intent upon her work to see it. She was a very pretty girl-the prettiness, of regular features and color. In this respect, she had -the advantage over Elea- nor, queenly though she was when she willed it.- Marcia was, howeyer, of a domestic, yet lively turn; less showily educated than her friends, yet ladylike and agreeable-endigh in conversa- tion ; never brilliant, like Eleanor, and never nonsensical, like Jessie. Seen without the glamour of Malcpola love and fancy, she was a -comely, practical, amiable damsel, with no particular strength of will or steadiness of purpose, and a dutiful daughter, if one might judge from herconstant references to "ma'swishes and sentiments. Your brother is decidedly better, then?" she observed, trying to seem politely careless, as she stroked out the two or three inches of stitches she had set.. if So: thei doctor assures us ;you cannot imugme how anxious we lareito have. him homer agB- i/ ^ -eann;t be comfortable where he is, much as we-try to mate him so.^ N E M E s I 8. 105 Such a funny place P" put in Jessie. "Sand on the floor, and just two windows in the whole house, and a ladder in the largest room " . "But pa says that everything looks neat, and thaf they are altogether different from most people in their circumstances, said Marcia. "He was quite struck with Mr. Hale, when h e called at our house, to buy some timber or rails, or something of that sort. tHe told ma thati he was the finest speciment of an intelligent mechanic he ever saw, and that if the couqtry -were stocked with such, the distinctions of rank would be -at- a end." "I am thankful that it is not, then," rejoined Eleanor "-I do not relish the vision of a houseful of cobblers ad -cobblers' wives I must say that this Hale woman seems to consider herself fit for any society. Fancy her at your table, and your father inviting her to take wine, in his fine, courtly- style. 'Wall, I rather guess I will--thank ye i " Marcia joined in Jessie's laugh. '"Oh, we must polish them, before we admit them to terms of equality. Not that I, myself, do not agree with you. It will- be some centuries before man arrive at this state of society. This Mrs. Hale is quite- a -ady in appearance, I have noticed her as we were riding by. ^ Iheytave, improved their house surprisingly. It is really a romanticttage -like those we read of in novels." - - Hop-vines and holyhocks I They are hardly evidences of a refined taste. But the house is good enough for them. Pa has taken pains that it shall not be an unsightly object. Itiss8o co0 - spicuous from the road ', . I thought that man did all that. himself. Pa gathered from what he said that it was his own work." "A probable storyl Where was he to get the money to do it with? I have no doubt that he tried-to :createthe impression that it:was the fruit of his industry, forShe is:a fellow who iakes great pretensions." 5 page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 N EM S I S. "'But Eleanor, some of the improvements were his," said Jessie. "Who else would ever have put up that horrid sign?" "That is your eyesore;, responded her .sister. "The shoe- maker's wife is mine, and a more intolerable one: She takes upon herself the: greatest- airs you can conceive of, Marcia; carries her head, and steps as if she were the wife of a lord. She speaks to us with such provoking condescension, that you would imagine us to be her younger sisters, and -herself and her husband are dear Malcolm's patrons. Poor old Barbara was blinded by them, months ago, and so they have unbounded swing,' down there, Jessie and I Shave to march, when 'Mrs. Hale' winks at Bar- bara, and have the honor and felicity of being bowed out of the front kitchen, by ' Mr. Hale,' with his leathern apron on, and his hammer in his hand. That pert minx of a child has the run of the premises, all day; lolls on Malcolm's bed ; fans him, enter- tains him, and for aught I know, gives him his medicine." Marcia had let fall her work, and was looking at Eleanor, with a countenance full of disgust and pity; "Is it not shameful?" she said, warmly. ' Why don't you teach them their proper place? I should not'think any one, no matter how :audacious; would attempt to impose upon you, Eleanor. Why, you could keep anybody at arstance. It would be kind- ness to these people, to che&le their forwardness." "When my brother is under theiF roof --No, no, Marcia l you thoughtless aristocrat!" No, saintly plebeian, could have rebuked with more gentle humility. "They have been very attentive to him,": she continued, with generous candor. "There is no disputing that; and in virtue of this, we are inclined to overlook our personfrievances. Their being trebly paid for their services, does: At alter the fact of our obligaon. True; we regardtthemra;s pushiing and officious, but I would hope that they mean well toward Malcolm.": - Iwoifld hope' ey'meau, NEME IS. 107 "He likes them, and that funny little girl most-of all 1" giggled Jessie. "Yes I the darling fellow is infatuated. For pity's sake, never breathe one word of what we thave been saying, to him. He is so impulsive and affectionate, so easily deceived' by plausi- ble looks and stories--by anything that appeals to his feelings, that he runs wild about these people. Pa regrets it more than we do; but, as he says, there is- but one course for us toI'pursue, and that is to wait, as quietly as we can, until the scales drop from his eyes. v "If that little child were grown, I think he would marry her," said Jessie. "That would be the funniest part of all-wouldn't it?", "Mercy, Jessy, you make my flesh crawl l" and- Eleanor's grimace partook of aversion and ridicule. "That could never happen I If Malcolm could forget whose bloodruns in hisveins, the dead and buried Argyles. would start from -their graves to prevent the monstrous sacrilege+l" . Marcia was an interested listener, and she carried home, at night, a faithful report of what she had learned of Malcolm's situation and the manceuvres of his wily hosts.? Mrs. Selden thought it "a shame that a gentleman's son should be -forced. to submit to--dictation from those so much beneath him," and mar- velled with her daughter at the forbearance of the ArgyIes; Mr. Selden looked grave at the unfavorable account of-Mark's presumption," too near akin to impertinence, to suit his patrician taste. He " had taken a liking to the fellow," he confessed, for he "believed him to be honest and industrious,-and while he had more intelligence than was common in s class :he was not above his trade. Hie was sorry to hear otherwise." I am not surprised," said his wife, satieti-y- And I ought not to be," was Mr. Selden's ,reply ; "for that -*-- E ' "- page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 NEMESIS. is uniformly the way with that style of people. A little notice from those of better standing turns their heads; deceives them with the impression that they are rising in the world; spoils them for the sphere in which they were born, and renders them obnox- ious to those whom they would imitate. There are upstarts, in abundance, popping up their heads like mushrooms, all around us. It is the duty of every substantial old resident of the coun- ty, to keep these in their proper place; to teach them that- there, and there alone, can they be respectable and respected." "You said, the other day, that if all working-men were as intelligent ua6 this Mr. Hale, there would be no more difference of:rank, pa; and you spoke as if it would be a great thing for the country," said the matter-of-fact Marcia. -Mr. Selden's smile was slightly embarrassed. - "That was my democratic theory, my daughter. Practice is quite another affair." NEMESIS. '- 109 CHAPTER VIII. "I is a pleasant day, -my son. Are you well enough to drive out a short distance? The cariage-is at-your service." Malcolm was lying upon the settee in Miss Barbara's room, dressed, but very weak and emaciated, There, -,was altogether too much of the invalid still about him to please his father, who, unaccustomed to the sight bf disease, and having enjoyed sound health during most of his ife, could not be convinced that this debility did not portend further, and possibly- fatal! results of his accident. His incessant watchfulness and minute inquiries were often irritating to the convalesdent, yet could not help being touched by these evidences of an attachment, that never found vent in words. He rallied, now, to reply gratefully. "It is kind in you to propose it, sir. I should enjoy an airing, provided it- is prudent to attempt it. What do you say, Aunt Bab?" "1Twon't hurt i , Itwas one of Miss Barbara's "piecrust-ddys/" as Malcolm named the turns of exceeding brevity in language, and a pec uar snapping-not snappishness-of articulation and motion, that over- took her, now and then, when :fashionable ladies would have called themselves " nervous," and been called by others cross. "Then, you may order thp -carriage, if you please, sir. How far may I go, Aunt Bab? with an imploring: eagrness, that moved his nurse to a very gentle denial -of what she felt wa- i s wish. page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O NEMESIS. "BNot more'n a mile. It's the first time, remember." "Please, dear Aunt Bab 1" The boy caught her dry, stiff hand, as she beat up his pillows. She shook her head. "Be patient I If you don't throw yourself back Jby being too smart, you can go to see her next week." , "Why don't you say next year, and be done with it?" he rejoined, pettishy, flinging himself over to the other side of the couch. i Miss Barbara said nothing more then, only went on preparing the savory broth he loved, and craved with the avidity of return- ingappetite. He would have it made by no one but her, and when it was ready, she served it upon a stand beside his couch. He stayed her hand in the spreading of a napkin over this, and looked up penitently into her face. '"I don't mind it. You can't help it!" was all her reply, and peace was-restored. - "Is Malcolm going out?inquired Eleanor, coming in. Her father reentered at the moment, and replied in the -ffirmative, So Sarah said, but-I thought she was mistaken. It Is too bad I I wanted the carriage to-day, and you must all have known it. Jessie and I are engaged to dine at Mr. Logan's, and as it is ten miles off, if we don't start early, we shall ,not get, there in time. Cannot you put off your drive, M alolm? "Certainly!" he said, contemptuously. Mr. Argyle seldom disputed the will of his imperious daughter, savewhen she ;pulled too strongly upon his purse-strings; but her selfish djsregard of her sick brothbers comfort was too flagrant an Offence to beepassed over in silence; ' Eieaaor!". he remonstrated, sternly.- "Yoare not serious in asking your brother to deny himself what will conduce to his N E M ESS. E-' II recovery--and this, after his tedious confinement to the house I I am astonished 1" "There it is I I expected nothing else! i cried Eleanor, stormily. "Nobody on this plantation is ofthe least consequence excepting Malcolm-always Malcolm I Here -we have been cooped up for seven weeks; going nowhere, and seeing no 'com- pany; moping and sighing over him, because he was too awk- ward a rider to keep his seat on a horse; associating with all -manner of vulgar people, and seeing them eternally preferred to" ourselves I Much natural affection he has shpon for/;hiss sisters, that we should make any more sacrifices for him . I've had a surfeit of cobblers and cobblers' wives, and-a taste of better, society will be a luxury." - Malcolm's face was ashy white with wrath, and his' eyes glowed * in it, like burning coals. "The girl has gone mad at last 1" he said, in a:tone that was frightfully suppressed. "I always prophesied that' her temper would get the upper hand of her senses in the end. Indulge her, sir, by all means. My proposed excursion was not of myPseeeing, but your own kind offer. With many thanks for your good intentions, I shall stay where I am. Let Miss Argyle go, but send- a keeper and a strait waistcoat with her." ' Hush 1" said Miss Barbara, in his ear, and she would haive forced him back to the pillow, from which he had started., - He did not heed her, except by resisting her pressure upon his shoulder. In the subdued accents of concentrated rage, he-,went. on: "It is Absurd to reason with a crazy thing, I have heard; but I will say a word or two-,yers -:and take: care--that you shal'- recollect them for the future I This is not the :first nor the second, nor the hundreth time-that I have :listene, to yo- gratuitous sneers and abuse of those friends7 of - mnerwohosaved my life. , A small service I' you:will say. I do notdy-it'f- but . page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 N E X E SI S. on their part, the merit of the deed was the same, as if Miss Eleanor Argyle's existence were endangered, instead of her br'other's. I do not expect you to rise, superior to the prejudices of those who have only the accidents- of fortune and rank to depend upon, for distinction in this world; still less do I suppose you capable of appreciating the rare combination of virtues that shine out in the characters of Mr. 1Hale and his wife. I do not wish you to associate with them. I have too much regard for their comfort, for they would be the sufferers-not you. But you shall -be silent concerning them, in my hearing I And, further- more, if it ever comes to my ears that you have slandered them to others, I will find means to make you -repent it to the latest day of your life. Be sure of that I They are among the best friends I have in the world. I wish this to be understood, and that I will defend thejn to the last. Now, go to your 'better society,' and. play the amiable for the remainder of the dayl " If Eleanor had been a man, she would have felled her brother to the floor, feeble and ill as he was. Miss Barbara, who knew her temper of old, involuntarily stepped in between her and the settee, as she'bent forward to speak. -Eleanor noticed the motion, and laughed bitterly, "Your baby does not require your protection," she said. "lHe is too weak- to do- more than to talk, or I should be the one in danger. The tongue that insults a woman, has-generally a hand to match it, in unmanly violence. Let me:conugratulate you, my dear brother, upon your improvement in the art of abuse. Your instructors deserve credit for their diligence, and their pupil for- his. I am free to confess myself - unequal to you, in this respect, not'having been thrown in the way of hearing and acquiring this sort: of -practice. It will be advisable for the-rest of .the-family to study with the shoemakers wife for awhile, since this -style of conversation is to be introduced into our husehold. Is it in this way,that I would reap benefit soi ation ththem x+p .a - , ', b, ' I ' NE M E S I S. 113 And they 'would be the sufferers' by unconscious imitation of my manners?" "This is extremely unbecoming conduct sand language," Mr. Argyle found breath to say. Malcolm raised himself to his feet, and strove to speak; but th'e crimson that had rushed to his brow with the effort, faded as sud- denly, and he fell back upon -his pillows. Miss Barbara caught Eleanor's arm, whirled her to the door, and slammed it after her, then darted back to the fainting lad. Mr.- Argyle, confounded and paralyzed, did not stir-hardly breathed till the swoon was averted; the deathly hue of the face, and the hysterical gasping of the exhausted lungs passed away. He had an indefinite 'consciousness that both of his unruly children were in fault, and that his duty was to- censure them. Eleanor, he was literally afraid to seek, in her present state; but he took courage from Malcolm's prostration. Another considera- tion propelled him to the prompt chastisement of his son. Hie had espoused the wrong side of the question. His laudations of, and professions of attachment for the Hales, were as unpalatable to father as to daughter. He had, hitherto, tried to check the unsuitable intimacy by innuendoes and disapproving looks, whichy" he had the satisfaction of seeing, were not thrown away upon Malcolm's recent hosts, however he might choose to slight them. The time for decisive action-had arrived; the issue wasaraised,aind he must assert his authority as-chieftain of the clan, and get: the matter at rest. These bickerings and vulgar outhreaks could not, be tolerated where he was:master. Seeing Malcolm again silent, and outwardly calm, he opened his argument. "I had hoped, Malcolm; that you and your sister bad. oot- grown these childish and irrational exhibitions of temper. I am particularly- grieved at your intemperate expressions and the, singular views you have adopted of late. Eleanor is to- be blamed for her attack;' but you must admit that. her charges are " * page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 NE X EM S I S. not groundless. Your-ahem I alienation from your kindred and intercourse with those occupying a lower ,grade of society, have occasioned me more solicitude than I can express. Ahem!"F He paused to note the effect of his preamble, for under his doughty mien and big words, he was an arrant coward at heart, and a flash of the fire Malcolm had just displayed, would have put him to flight. The boy lay motionless ; his deep eyes fixed, mournfully, in a sort of sad reverie, upon his father. Emboldened by this submission, Mr. Argyle resumed : "I have hesitated about broaching this subject; but my conscience will not justify me in omitting to speak, now that the question is-aheml --up for discussion. Yours is no ordinary position in the world, my son. In this--community, you will have no superior, if you remain just to your ancestors and to yourself. I look forward to your career with exalted -hopes; with fervent wishes that the family name and--ahem 1--the family fortune will sustain no detriment, when yours shall be the lot to maintain both. Do I render my meaning intelligible?" "Yes, sir," answered the son. " It would be a work of-ahem!-supererogation to remind you th-at you are the last male scion of a line of distinguished men ; that your forefathers were"-- "Mercy on us!" said Miss Barbara, stumbling over Malcolm's pointer and accidentally(!) treading on his foot. The animal set up a deafening howl, and ran under his master's lounge i "There, Ponto, poor fellow I Never mind, Aunt Bab," said Malcolm, appreciating the intention of this diversion. "I wish to hear all that my father has to say." "It's no use 1" groaned Miss Barbara, inwardly. "He is set in his own way. Can't the old man see that? Because iron is at a white heat, is. that any reason it shouldn't burn his finger?" The tihread of Mr. Argyle's discourse was not easily joined. NEMESI S . He resorted to his snuff-box, his most valuable prompter ; -but it could suggest nothing better than a dive into the midst of the subject he was trying to bring around gradually. "Your unfortunate accident is rendered doubly painful to us by the" development in youi of traits and- tendencies--ahem which are without a parallel in our history. I dread nothing for you more than debasing associations-intimacies which may depreciate you in the estimation of your equals in fortune. and blood." "And such, you intimate, that I have formed?" inquired Mal- colm, without any token of emotion. "I fear it-very much I fear it, my son." - "I am very tired, sir, .and too feeble to converse much longer; Will you oblige me by stating your commands briefly?" "I do not colmmand positively. You are not far from man's estate, and I would rather counsel-ahem-direct." . "Your directions then, sir," said the lad, patiehtly. "My recommendation, then, is, that you discontinue your visits at the house of a man, whose social standing is second to that of your father's overseer, and that you repel with dignity whatever advances he or his wife may feel encouraged, by your past condescensions, to make. I offered-ahem-a liberal pecu- nia/ry recompense to him when you were brought home, and I must say, that his manner of declinature was extremely offensive to me. It sawred too much of pride-Lan unpardonable failingin an underling." ., "-Underling!" A sneer rushed over Malcolm's face, and he repeated the term through his shut teeth. He was patiently liFs tening again, before his father could determine whether or not he- bad seen his expression vary. , "Thus, our consciences are clear of obligation to -him," the old gentleman prosed on. "Give him his house rent-free for life, if he wants it so long, page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] f1i p E M, I 8s. and ft-it up comfortably for him," suggested Malcolm, as shortly as UMAs' Barbara could have done; "I will engage- that he'does iot reject the proposal. If you deny me m this, I shall, from my a]llowance, remit to him, yearly and anonymously, a sum equal to the exorbitant rent, which, I learn from Sancroft, you charge him for the miserable shanty it was when he hired it, and which it would have remained until now, but for his ingenuity and industry. - You can disinherit me, if you like. What I have said, is said." \i "And a sight too much of it for your good,"- interposed Miss Barbara. l "If there's any more quarrelling with him and by him, to-day, he will not worry you and Miss Eleanor a week from this time. He is not fit for such work, sir. You might knock him down with a straw, and yet he is- so fierce in spirit, that he will fight while there's breath in his body. If you'll let him alone for four or five days, I'll get him ready for a pitched battle." - Mr. Argyle and his cane retreated alike stiffly at the hint of future contest. The laird was inconveniently ruffled in mind. Ma:colm's unforeseen change of tactics had upset him more effec- tually than anything less serious than a bad bargain, or actual loss of money, had done in many a year. The boy's degrading tastes were incorrigible, he feared. This bughear had gained reality rapidly since Eleanor first pointed it out. He felt, now, that the mischiefwas done, how artfully and easily the estrangement might have been effected. But Malcolm's blood and obstinacy were up, a-d in his quivering soul the father knew how much braver than himself was- the- stripling son, whom he had never succeded in controlling. A -troubled hour of cogitation resulted in a summons to Mr. Sancroft, and a lengthened confabulation between the employer and his- agent. ' The:!eXt news that; stirred the still plantatiofe, was that "'Misbr Malcolm was going abroad-across the big water, the servants:said ; " to' the -auld country," said the overseer, wist. , N IEM:ES IS. 117T' fully.; and Eleanor comforted Marcia for the separation, by expatiating upon " the superior advantages he would have at a , foreign university, in Edinburgh especially.". Malcolm experi- enced a thrill of-intense delight, succeeded bypain almost as lively, when the plan was unfolded to him. The physician pre- scribed sea-air for his health, and a visit to Europe--a Scottish university-were the bright realizations of many a boyish dream land student-longing. His preparationswere hurried, the pro- pitious season for making the voyage being already far advanced. He looked still unfit for travel, when- he dismounted at:the Hale's door, the .evening before he was to set off. H-Hicalls" to them had been regular, but short, since he. quitted theirhospita- ble abode; his conduct was unaltered from the frank friendliness of yore. This afternoon, he was pale and depressed. Mark and Bessy did not remark audibly upon this, for they had seen him pass, at mid-day, on his way to Mr. Seldeh's, and respected, while they pitied the sorrow that bore, with cruel weight, upon his young, loving heart. They understood, better than, he, the impulse that caused him to hold Kitty so-closely tohim, as. sheat on his knee, to press his lips repeatedly to her soft curls-isQ like those that clustered upon another headl Their W ymraths wanted no educational polish to- teach them the mySts :of-Re tion, the voiceless yearning of the lonely spirit, whicihl ae ts tendrils around whatever was near and invited it -to..cia , . . The setting sun poured a golden stream over he figa:sfsihe youth and the child, her eyes brming with wonder and sorrow, because in his- she read a .melancholy meaing .that passed her comprehension. "And :Kitty will: fo t m," ":he:gik, by and y, ceasingthe, conversation- relative. to his oy g s, :for- thensing year, which he was .g.. ..i p e... 't No} no l" - she . :8^, ; -t g. an : iitB-is t neck. "I can so rever and awooy :o, - ,. page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] 118 - NEMXESIS. "You caught that saying from Aunt Bab," he answered, smi- ling. "I shall be gone a whole year and a half, Kitty--maybe more. A great many things 'may happen in that time. I shall find you here, when I return?" he subjoined to Mark, more in asertion, than inquiry. ^P" erhaps so," was the grave reply. "We have feared, some- times, that we have not judged- for the best, in choosing this home, but it is the only one we have, at present, or can have, for a twelvemonth, at least. You know the old proverb-' A rolling stone gathers no moss/. I would not desert a location that promisedlanything like a support, under a two years' trial." "Your prospects .are fair, are they not?" asked Malcolm, quickly. - "They are not dark," answered Mark, evasively. Malcolm looked uneasy, ' I wish I could do away with any unpleasasntfeeling that the conduct of others may have engen- dered in your mind, -could :persuade you how idle are any fore- bodings, on that account;: yet, perhaps, these are: best dismissed by a prudent silence. Believe me in one thing, however. 3y father is your friendj and you will shortly have a token of his i good-will, which I beg you to accept, if you desire to make me happy. Reeollect,: that were all that I ever expect to own, yours, and myself- your bondsman, I would still be your debtor. And, promise me faithfully and solemnly, that should anything occur in - my absence, :that would, if I were: here, afford me a chance that I ::dearly, covet-that :of serving you-you will apply to me by lett er. Here is my address." They promised. His earnestness left no room for denial. :tin were pressed; kind!wishes said for hia prosperous jour- nieyings and safe return, he tried-to articulate again his gratitude flbirmany benefits-and little Kitty;, standing .on the door- step,;thed w him, through hertears, ride slowly awayin the yellow unset.: - NE-MESI . - 119 CHAPTER IX. As his son had promised Mr. Argyle soon dispatched a.-special communication to his tenant. Mr. Sancroft was its-bearer. "Don't let me disturb you, Mrs. Hale!" he said to Bessy, who would have left the room to him and Mark. "What I have to say concerns you, madam. The luck of one's husband-must interest the wife. It is queer, how in this world of' ours, one man's bane is another man's meat-to quote a venerablesy;:M r. Hale. Who could have guessed that what everybody else reckoned a calamity--namely-Mr. Malcolm- Argyle's fall from his horse, close to your door, injuring him for life, it maybe, would yet be a stroke of -good fortune. to you, my-dears gir 1, I: dare say, now, that the idea of such an event never entered your mind, Mr. Hale-hey?" "It certainly never did,'t said Mark, with -di edefie. omP e "Mr. Argyle's misfortune distressed none of his fiends more than it did us." The eyebrows were incredulous; then,. mocgy ectia. The feeling does you honor, Mr. Hale. I Jt : e:posrt i t, truthfully, at head-quartersj - sir." . ' -' :Mark bithhis lp in vexationa t the construction put-:upnf his reply ;- but to resent it would: be a recoghition: of theo -it.. meaning he was not-disposed to -give.;L -: "A creditable sentilent, sir, and nothing:;m re thna: Wd have expected of you . I am pressed f"r time, .;toai ale, so, if you please, we- wil now proceed directly toa b ysi s" :- /.' " ;" ' page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 .NEMES I S. "You could not please me better," Mark was so incautious as to say. The eyebrows caught at the unfortunate phrase. "You may well say that, Mr. Hale, and I honor your frank- ness in not feigning unconsciousness that there is agreeable intel- ligence in store for you. I perceive that your acuteness has anticipated the nature of my errand. Indeed, for obvious reasons, I supposed that you would think me a tardy messenger. You must have endured an uncomfortable degree of suspense, since receiving the hint which escaped Mr. Malcolm Argyle,-when he was last here. It was indiscreet in him to refer, in explicit terms, to a matter that was then so uncertain ; but he is hasty, some- times, both mn forming attachments and engagements, as you may have observed, Mr. Hale. I see -that you are an impatience to learn the whole of your glad tidings. Mr. Argyle, Senior, has understood from his son that you think the rent of your place extortionate"-- "Sir!" ejaculated Mark, astounded. ; "Have patience, my dear sir I I am coming to the point" "Before you proceed one word further," said Mark, collecting his senses, "I desire to state distinctly, that I never expressed or implied any'discontent with this house or the rent, in Mr. Malcolm Argyle's hearing." "Is it possible? Here is an important misunderstanding, Mr. Hale." ' , The eyebrows weighed the testimony on both sides, and found Mark's wanting. The mouth said'the same, but more guardedly. "Is not your memory treacherous in this respect, sir? Else, how should Mr. Malcolm Argyle have ascertained the amount of your house-hire, and the sum -you have expended in improve- ments?" * "Ido not know, indeed, Mr. Sancroft, unless firom yourself," returned Mark.. ' NEMESIS. 121 "Or from Mrs. Hale i"-wheeling suddenly toward her. "So great a favorite as was your handsome guest may, naturally and: properly, have talked over family affairs with you, my dear madam -hey?" "If you call my husband's word in question, you will hardly believe me when I say that Mr. Argyle never did any such thing," Bessy said, spiritedly. "Excuse me, Mrs. Hale,! Do not, my good lady, be offended with one who wishes you well, and who is the bearer of pleasant news. To skip this point, or to take for granted that the young gentleman was mistaken in giving you as his authority m his altercation-I should have said, discussion-with his father ; Mr. Argyle, Senior, having learnd of your impression that he was dealing hardly by you, in this compact,although .he 6could wish that the complaint had been made more directly to- himlf,- is willing to overlook this, in remembrance of your gratuitous attentions to his sick son, and commissions me to 'mnfo$-you of his generous intentions -in your behalf. "He cannot con- scientiously charge a lower rent for your commodious residetce. It would create dissatisfaction among his other tenants. ;He has the right, however, to confer whatever benefaction hiewises. Therefore, without tedious formalities, ]Mr. Hale, lie requests 7'me0 to apprise you that this house is at your service -rnt-free--for so long a time as you may choose to occupy it. And hetrusts that the debt of obligation, which you may justly have considered as binding upon him, -through the accidental circumstane'of lhis son's having been brought in here, after his fall, and' been :iable to leave for several weeks-=he hopes, I say, that this, with him, involuntary indebtedness, may be cancelled by his gift. AJ nioble offer-isn't it, Mr. Hale? It is entirely in consonan&e with ithe character of your paton. Exact to the splitting of :a :hairi'i monetary affairs-hard, as some call' hi :'prompt prbcl ures-- he is yet princely in his liberality, when he choosbs to' eeri ^ it. fi - ."'. " page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 1*'2R NEM ESI-S. This* latest- instance will make a fine noise in the neighborhood I1t be bound, and cannot but serve as an advertisement for your- self, Mr. Hale. Would it not be well for you to mention it, and add your thanks, in your next letter to Scotland? It will please Mr. Malcolm Argyle to learn that you are aware of his instrumen- tality in procuring your excellent fortune. JI take it for granted that you correspond with the affectionate young gentleman-hey?", ' "You take altogether too much for granted to-day, si--are going ahead entirely too fast," said lMark's firm, decided tones. "If, Mr. Malcolm Argyle made the representations to his father which you have repeated, Hdo not care to thank him for a favor obtained by such-means. If he did not-and allow me to say, that this is the most reasonable suiosition, in my opinion-the less said the better. To your 'patron,' you-may! reply that I regret extremely the sense of obligation under which he. lies. -As I told. him myself, when his son was carried home, we did all that lay in our power fore the poor young gentleman, and did it cheer- *Aly, without ever one thought of any compensation, except the pleasure of seeing him well again. Thus, he will see, that -it would be downright dishonesty in me to receive the 'gift' he offers, as payment for our services. He is not in debt to us, and please Hteavenr"--Mark drew up his stalwart figure and looked the eindependent man he was--" please Heaven, we will never be in hisf ; ; - "This is an extroardinary message, Mr. Hale. Had you not better, take time and reconsider this decision? Favors like these 'sre:-not :as plenty as blackberries. Do not throw away a golden chane of bettering your fortune. Mrs. Hale, will you not use yonur-finuence with him?" " "If- he will not repeat the answer you have just had without it," :said-Bessy, scornfully.- t'My dear fiaeads!" reasoned eyebrows and lips, in measured time and perfect unison, "you are young and inconsiderate; / N K M E S- I s. 13' unsophisticated, Mr. Hale-a -trifle, too precipitate, Mrs. Ha;le. You have played your cards admirably, thus far-if you will ot- take umbrage at the expression. Now, -that you are on the point of winning, do not lose all by a -single wrong move. (ireat friends are an invaluable auxiliary to those who have to make their way in the world. Such a help you have contrived to secure in the younger Argyle. His father is an older hand -in the world's ways -therefore, a less easy conquest. Still, you have a hold- on him: in his -love for his only boy. - My disinterested counsel to -you is not to let him slip through your fingers, and to pump him whenever you can. This sounds coarse; but it is the way other people climb to the top of the hill. We understand one another. Why attempt deception by using fine words, and making a flourish of moral scruples?"' : Mark did not try to conceal his disgust. - "If your sense of duty to your employer does not: withhold you from giving this advice, Mr. Sancroft,-my consciousness of what is right toward my fellow-man forbids me to follawdit. a I am neither simpleton nor knave. I am at -a loss to determine which :you mistake me for, judging, from the language you IholdL You know, in your secret soul, that you never intended me to accept Mr. Argyle's offer. Whether he made it ingood:faith or- not, I do not undertake-to say. I coild have closed with it only at the sacrifice of independence and honor. You have tried your best to convict me of double-dealing, of selfish motive, and feigned kindness; of truckling to the wealthy to- advatiwi^;oy intrests. -I havenever borne such insinuations from mortamaln nor do I intend to submit- to them now. You call yowUrself a gentleman, and stoop to notice me--a poor 'mehlanic; I -;rId you, now, ever to hold farther- commmicfion :ith mei except upon strictly business matters. These areb harsotOz:gst6y to a man in my own house. Yor-econscience is my witn:esS/whether you have not deserved themrall-and more l" - I ' *I '. ' . page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 1i4 Nx M E SI S. ".Good day, Mrs. Hale!" said the -agent, bowing himself out, with a serenity truly edifying to behold. - "Oh, Mark I what have you done?" cried Bessy, clasping her hands in fright-more at the unwonted excitement of her hus- band, than any definite fear of consequences from his high-handed measure. "Ordered off a villain who insulted me by questioning my word and imputing despicable motives to me," replied he, gloom- ily. "There is something at the bottom of all this, which we do not see. That hound never yelped in that style, without being seton by his master. Yet why should he persecute me?" "It sounds very foolish-the idea that Mr. Argyle - should go out of his way to annoy you, without any cause for hating you," said Bessyv trying to reason away his fancies and quiet her own misgivings. "IAs to Mr. Sancroft, he has never liked us. since last Christmas, .when Mr. Malcolm made game of him before us. Somehow, people never can forgive those who have seen them appear -ridiculous.- Then he and Miss Barbara are always at sWorls' points, and her liking for us would cause him to slight us. He is just the man to treasure up a small, mean spite, and get his revenge in whatever manner he can. You have not courted him either, and never submitted to his patronizing ways, as he ex- pected you would. Don't mind him I that is, unless you find that he has set Mr. Argyle against you, and I cannot see, even then, how they can hurt you." /But after what has passed, can I, ought I to stay here? Bessyl will-you break up again and go with pie, to seek for a home? . i"To-morrow., if you wish it, dear Mark, " I He paused i his walk up and down the floor, and gazed at her withy saddened tenderness. ' "Is believe you, darling! You are- th e tuest: wife man. ever had.- We -have been here, now, a year next month. It is NEME SIS. 12' hard to tear up the roots, just as they are getting hold in -the earth 1" - " "You told young Mr. Argyle that you would give- the place a two years' trial," ventured Bessy, whose woman's heart: had learned to love this home, if only for the pains -it had cost'lher to make it comfortable. "I did, and I will! I wil stay here- until I am driven away. And after all, what a fuss we are making over what may be a triflel I lost my temper, and Sancroft kept his. Mr. Argyle-has saved his credit for generosity, and his rent besides, and Mr. Malcolm will think me perversely proud and ungrateful for his kinde inten- tions. There is the extent of the mischief donel- I am, too insignificant a mote to offend the laird's eye, now that his son is out of the- reach of my influence; that there is no Tisk of his going into the shoe business, or eloping with you, or niaarymng Kitty. And the young ladies' minds are similarly relieved. Mr. l Argyle's pleasure at my-refusal to lessen his income by the amount of my rent, will prevent his kicking me oit of the house, because I invited his agent to leave. Hurrah, Bessy I while -I can work, and custom lasts, we will, stand fast, and live down pride and hatred. The winter's trade will be coming in, oon.-- It ought to be double what the summer brought, and if it' is no more, we can live, and more than live." Confidential as were Mr. Argyle's conferenesz with -his able tool, they were suspected and watched by one -of theeney'fs allies. Miss Barbara, by virtue of a secret warrant from Malcolm, took the liberty of interrogating the Hales concerning the'pro- posal lately submitted to them. They were proof against -her-: curiosity at first;' but finally surrendered to -the eXte of acquainting her with Mr. Sancroft's behavior an-d:M's resentment. She said little; but that little ronwg i i-::eY for her, and, she thought a deal more.: IT-hatve'ifFgh she: addressed herself -to the arduous- composition-- of: a- letter;to her ' . ; .; ' ' ' * ., ; 1 ' page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] "41oy:"' By dint of scrupulously devoting every spare minute she had in awhole week to the'undertaking, she accomplished a minute and energetic history of the mysterious occurrence. This was directed to Malcolm, and committed to the post and to Providence. He will scorch 'ea!" was the lullaby with which her imagi- nation rocked her to sleep, for several nights after the important transacdtion. - Maiy weeks -must roll by, ere the fiery castigation, so con- fidently:-expected, could reach the offenders, and busied with pre- Parations for -the fall and winter, Miss Barbara had: scanty sea. sog ldof:eise to bestow upon her young friends, "down the road."-: She tWas glad that- Bessy did not apply to her for sewing, this fall, there being now no reason why the seamstresses at home should not perform their lawful share of work. The household expenditures underwent inspection weekly from the master. The account-books of housekeeper and overseer, were carried on ,ion- day-morning to his room and scanned as closely as if millions of pounds, and not dozens of pence were at stake. Mr. Argyle had a genius for petty accumula'tion. He knew to an ounce, how much butter should be made from a certain number of gallons of milk: to a day, how long a barrel of flour and a hundred weight of bacon ought to last. Thi foible, "as is always the case, increased with age, and this winter it had sun- dry: aggravations, that rendered himi:absolutely miserly. What with the necessity of dressing his daughters, as other ladies of orrespidin g rank ,were bedecked, and mamtaining abroad a son, who would not live as his father haddone, among strangers, there was not a man in- three counties who felt poorer, or more miserble in his poverty, than did the proprietor of the splendid 'estate of Ben, Lomond.!Hitherto, he had seldomn interfered openy in Miss:Barbaria's province. Distrustfulhe was, as avarice alOnem 'ake n e'; but he foud it hard :to doubt her economy and thill, her fidelity to him and to his . ^ E M' : E S I S.& . - - g Latterly, he prowled aboit her premises, peeped surreptitiously into her barrels and jars, overlooked wool-bags and .cotton-bas- kets, stole like -a thief to her bins of choice vegetabtes-4n:short, as she said, " carried on in such a despiseable, low-lived ways, that she was asharmed to look him in the face--she,felt so mean for him l' From time immemorial, she had hadc her perquisites : eggs, and fowls of 'her own- raising; pet pigs, and the proceeds from the sale of their bacon; fruits and vegetables, she had planted and tended herself, and a variety of other things, that eked out a salary merely nominal in -value. 'She took no thought for the morrow. While " the children " lived, she would havet a home and a support. Upon her hoard of odds and ends, -m, Argyle now began to cast, what she felt, with astonishment,i was a jealous eye, and her ire exceeded all former bounds; Too blind to see that he was detected in the meanness,. he approached the topic, as he flattered himself, very cunningly. "Why, Barbara,"- he said, jocosely, "you will be a fortune, \ before you die. Are' you saving for Slocum, after all? I hea l that he. is courtingyou yet." . - "I aint a .fool, and Slocum is! I That's all of that 1t snapped Miss Barbara, in her most brittle pie-crust mood. "But so large a.- property ought snot to be without an heir," Mr. Argyle persisted. " Who are -to be the fortmnate legatee "My grandchildren!" she retorted, and left him to meditate -t upon his unsuccessful ruse. . . . . Alone in her chamber, the little-woman indulged he elf i-a- A hearty cry. "To come, spying, and sneaking about me,- as if I Had not served him faithfully 'for twenty years-I Ite. a good:-i' d to give him warning on the spot. If it wasn't for her thtsg4ne, , and them that's- left, I would do it,- as - Ure!: b^yo rn 1, shaking her -fist in the air. " 'Jet a if I didt-- ltw - lie's up to I He' s afraid of his life, lest I should :spend haiis:ie s upon page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] ;38- N3!EMES-I& them, poor, dear Hales, that Eleanor and Sancroft has taught him to h atesol The harmless creatures I what they've ever dne to make enemies of any of our folks; it beats me to find out I Pears' lilke people never can abide them they've tried to 'inure But ifyou think I'm going to -fall in with such ungrateful devices and stiginessjyou are .vastly mistaken l", She shook her fist again. "I'm obliged to you, but my heart ain't quite as hard- as the nethermillstone, and won't be before next weekd?. Thea sequence of this soliloquy was a visit to Mark's cottage, affterwpperthat eveoing. As she walked down the lane in the moonfght, she reproached herself for hang seen so little of these Rieadssntcethe coid weather had set in. "But ive been so biusy and the rheumatism begins to plague me so, that I couldn't, come oftener," she concluded, truthfully; ,aMd^they don't need me so, much as they did last winter, when they knew-nobody and had no work.-" eThe- kitchen was bright n-th the flame of a ligrhtwood torch, fixed; on:the' inside of: the fireplace, and Bessy sat beneath it with her needlework. ittyhad gone to bed, and Mark was in thegreat chair, directly opposite the fire. 'is attitude and count tenance struck Miss Barbara instantly, and her solicitude pre- nd:h er from observing- that Bessy, gathered up her sewing and threw itheh'md-the dresser. " W at ilst you:?" asked the visitor, of rk, disdaning irre- evant preliminaries. "Sit still,", for hiseffort to rise was -evi- dently ps fl. - . , ' , ., NKEMESIS. F29 winters work," said Bessie. "We have hoped every day thit he would get better. - He had- one long spell of rheumtia --fewer the year before we left home ;" poor child Hthe word slipped naturally from her tongue; now that she was in sorrow-.-" so I knew pretty -well what to -do --for him. I suppose that-in a warmer climate there is less fear of a tedious sickness:. - e will soon be about again," I Miss Barbara was wisely and kindly dumb, with regard Ato a four " months' bout" of hers, to which'she was fond.-of r gefer ng when cases of protracted sickness were npon-the carpet.- "How did you get it?" she inquired. "I was caught in the rain on my -way home from-Mr. Arni- stead's, where I had been to carry-some work: . "Haven't been able to do a stroke since, I reckon?" "Not a stitch.' Mark colored in pronouncing the last word, and glanced-from his crippled hands to his wifels. There was melancholy, though unconscious significance in the look, and-Miss Barbara:iwotd- have interpreted it rightly had she noticed Bessy's :occupatio:n at her entrance. To end the awkward pause, she opened:the hbasiet- she had brought. ' - "You are an- angel, Miss Barbara V" t exclaimred-,Bes y,-with starting tears. Elijah never greeted the ravewns ith aa0,it e grateful.-heart. - Miss Barbara laughed-a dry, hoarse chuckle, that seemaed to rattle her bones. i An odd-lookig -angel, dearl Pair of chickens-sg eggs "-setting them upbn the table. "Honey for the h bless her heart Irm sorry she's-asleep. Sugar--tea:--i tot! ' Minor's store for that to-day, so I knowit's fresh,?-i: --blackberry, and : mighty wholesome for: os ey ,:: M rant jelly , stir a spoonfil in a glasas - rf ateNA; i tastes nicer, ifyou are feveish, MrMr H do : " ' ' - - ^ - - .- t ^ -. ' '; ) ', ' page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 EMES I. r them you can roast if you like, sir; they're downright nourishing eaten that way-and that's all. Wish it was twice as much." "How could you bring that load all the way from Ben Lomond?" - asked Bessy. "Pooh, child I I am as strong as an elephant. When one arm got tired, I took the basket on the other. There's a lesson for you to remember, while your husband is complaining. You must pick up spirit, and take all the weight you can off of him." She sat down with her knitting,- and Bessy reluctantly resumed her needle. She selected the least remarkable portion of the gar- iment she was putting together; but Miss Barbara was quick to note that it could belong to none of the household. "Taking in sewing again, I see." "Yes, ma'am." "Where from?" "It is for one of Mr. Slocum's men." "Wish he had fifty, instead of two I "That sounds mercenary from you," said Mark, rallying his spirits. "I never suspected you of fortune-hunting before." "Nonsense!" i But the faded lips achieved something like a pout, and she tossed her head as coquettishy as Jessie would have done in her place. No woman likes to be set outside of Love's lists, unless by her own choice, and then, the practicability of her reentrance at will, is ever a pleasing theme. "It's a mighty slim market a fortin-hunter would find in him and his farm, with his five no-account negroes I But the fellow's , heart is nigher the right place than that of many a man who thinks himself his better. I'll say that for him PI She stayed with them until her early bed-time, and took her leave with inany an injunction of cheer and caution; promising to happen in, every chance she could get, and see how they were getting on. ' NE M ESI8. , 131 And, as she trudged the half mile that lay between them and Ben Lomond, haunted by the memory of the anxious eyes -and toiling fingers of the young wife, she wondered if she were not more happy, in her singlehood and isolation, than were they, each bearing the burden of the other's care, "Our Heavenly Father sent her, darling!" said Mark, thank- fully, drawing his wife's-weary head to his bosom. "It may be the 'forerunner of other and greater blessings. It certainly reminds us, that those who trust in Him shall never, be utterly cast down." -.- - / . . .. , ^.. page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] CHAPTEER X. THE New Year found!Mark confined to his bed, and in charge of the doctor. Hte was loath to call him in ; but Miss Barbara and ::Bessy insisted that it would be the wisest economy to use every means of recovery that -he could employ. Dr. Chase grjambled:that the delay in summoning him might prove a for- midable obstacle in the way of his success, and then, after a private hint from Miss Barbara, to the effect, that he "needn't stint in medicine and visits, for fear that he wouldn't be paid," he went to work almost as earnestly as if his case had been a gentle- man and not a common " person." The Hales had expended their summer's savings in the payment of the last quarter's rent, ending in November, and in procuring the :ctual necessaries of life, during the earlier stages of Mark's sickness. For bread for herself and child, and the modicum of more delicate food, demanded by her husband's situation, Bessy now-toiled assiduously. Their honest pride would not permit them to-divulge the extremity of their need, even to the staunch friend Miss- Barbara was constantly showing herself to be. They had never-begged directly or by implication, and they agreed, in this disastrous day, -that they would undergo starvation rather than subsist upon charity thus obtained. Miss Barbara took care that they should never, be without something to eat in the:house; but herresources were: fr from being abundant, and, with increas- ing/:uneasiness, she began toi foresee the time when she should have done her all for them. She might, indeed, have eluded Mr. 'done he*, al for, th a w --.. Argyle's lynx eyes, by false entries, and seret appropriations, had her integrity been less rigid; but this was never thought of--no not as a last resource. Once in a while, she succeeded in pro- not a last resource Onei curing more work for Bessy, from quarters inaccessible to the seamstress, although as she herself seldom went from home) her sphere of this kind'of action was circumscribe d. She imagined, besides, that the ladies to whom - she applied were careless or unwilling to grant her request, and it was'too palpable that what she got was given to her as a person al favor, and not to the needy woman. This was not an idle fancy. The Hales were unpopular intheir neighborhood, and, singular enough, rich and poor avoided them for the same reason. "They were above theirstation; vugar) pushing people, who ought to be taught where theirolevele-was." Scarcely one of those who held and promulgated this theory, could have stated his or her authority for its belief; only that "everybody said so," and "it was reported that they had behaved with shameful impertinence and ingratitude toward Mr. Argyle's family and Mr. Sancroft." And forthwith thestrangers, orderly and industrious as they had appeared in times paPl to unprejudiced -sight, became smoke in'plebeian eyes, anoffene-to . patrician nostrils. In-paiation of the prevailing -neglect ::-- suffering neighbor-disliked thoughhemight-be--we:mt::emJa that destitution was -then, as it is now, so unsual in:soeU e t., rural districts, that its existence was never-supposc until:throt upon the attention of the wondering inhrbaItsut $y gl' e Then,too, the country was sparsely settled, Ofythe selud ' hablits of the northern family, joined to t heiro-:.d mean, of conveyance froin place to place, had e d ther:peculia circumstances from being generall11y Und -yod - If"y the, fi farmer, near: by, heard that the 4shoemDkl:at 'i- A ri's crss roads'" was -sick, he gave 6is custom to t ntest eolPemln a who plied- the trade, and- took- uo , iollgh.4ot e who Oe page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 134 NEMESIS. matter. When -he had the rheumatism, he lay around the house, and enjoyed what ease the disease left him at liberty to takle. The cattle were cared for; ditto the negroes; ditto the winter's supply of wood, corn, and bacon. That any man in a Christian land should want any, much less all of these, was a problem as unknown, not to say unsolved by him, as was the famine amongst the:canaille, to the French princess, who " would be willing to eat breda, instead of cake, sooner than starve." There was one partial exception to this rule in Mr. Slocum. /But for his thoughtful kindness, our emigrants must have-frozen, if not -starved, in that -hard winter. He knew less of their con dition than did Miss Barbara; yet, having an indistinct idea that sick men'could not work, and that women were weaker than well men, he sent- weekly a load of wood, which his man had orders to cut, split, and pile, wherever it would ,be most convenient for Mrs Hale tow have it. So far from cherishing any grudge against them for their former preference for the Ben Lomnond dairy above his, he put 'Pollo again upon his old beat, and, in all weathers, the :boy .trotted every day, over. the mile of:muddy or frozen ground, with a pail of milk for Kitty. Whether- or not, these acts of- unostentatious beneficence induced Miss Barbara to look more benignantly upon her suitor, surely, One who Could read the heart eincased in that ungainlyshell, :saw the merciful deed, and remembered him for goad. -These were the onlygleams of light from without.: Love divine, and the humarn affection of the parents and child, supplied whatever else of brightness there ws5,-in, the. shadowed household. It' is, trying to the -most resigned to lie useless and helpless upon his couch of languishing set-carefully without the thronged path of busy life yet with its d'mpenetrating his ears; its rush and whirl jarring -his nervs; evien if Vhe caan be spared from the battle-field. But to know thatlwith-every minute of inaction, are passing returnless-oppor. tunties:of acquiring comfort and honor; to be tended through N E ME S I s . 13s5 sleepless vigils and days Vof pain, by Penury and: Disgrace-gaunt, inexorable :handmaids, ready to pounce upon all, that; he held precious-this was poor Hale's fate. And so one sad day was added., to another, and the toilsome weeks grew into the. months that were bringing, all too: fast, tre dreaded pay-day, for which there was 'no provision made.. it appears strange that this, .the most threaten'ing loud- that brooded upon the spirits' of her friends, never once crossed Miss Barbara's mind. If she- ever reflected upon the subject, it was in the supposition that Mark had, in conformity with thecustom .- of that country,- hired the cottage by the year. The bit- of sharp practice on the part of Mr. Sancroft, which prevented unsafe arrears, by demanding quarterly instalments, was a :novel ar- rangement in the vicinity, a fact, of which, as. may be supposed, Mark was ignorant when the' bargain was miade. 'The. benevo- lent spinster had her own distractions, too, just then. -Herletter to Malcolm remained unanswered, and tired of inventing excuses to herself for this delay, she had determined to write-ag-ain- to jog his memory, when her thoughts were called off in--another directioni She had but one near .relative in the world; an older .iter, who had married thirty years before, and removed to the western part of the State, then a wilderness, filled with fabulous danuge to the imaginations of dwellers in the east. Ten years of silence between the sisters had begotten in Miss Barbaira s mind 'a eonf- , viction of the other's death. It was like a voice fromthe spiri t- land when. she received a- letter; penned in a trembling and unpractised hand, from the long-lost relation, represenfi*g herself as being in a hopeless decline, surrounded by few outward:com-' forts and fewer friends, and pining to see anid bless her sister1once more, before closing her eyes upon earth. - l. Miss Barbara commenced packing, without stoppin^to-Ed the letter ; crammed the small trunk she judged::- be"e !y commodious for her wants; snapped to t6he- hasp. anu-/peef ! i page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 1 36 N- EX NE:MZESIS . the key; counted her not large hoard of money into a stout buckskin purse, and pocketed that, before she said a word to a living soul of her contemplated journey. Then she went in search of Mr. Argyle. He was at the sheep-pen with the over- seer; and leaning on the top rail, his jaw hanging as usual, was Mr. Slocum, quite at his ease. True, Mr. Argyle regarded him less than he did the most indifferent woolly coat in the flock, and Frisbie, although kindly disposed toward his inoffensive associate ofteD barely concealed his impatience at having him "hanging around, when he'd better be at hams, spiering after his ain gear." In her'excitement, Miss Barbara did not observe him, or indeed anything else, beside the person whom she had come to seek. In her terse style, she communicated the news of the summons she had had, and her resolution with regard to it. She was not disappointed, still less was she shaken by the lad's attempted dissuasion. The distance, the roads, the dearth of public conveyances, the weather, the fatigue, and risk to a person -of her age and inexperience in- travelling, the impro- bablity that she would find her sister alive'when she reached the place of her residence, these objections Miss Barbaraspurned, liee so many pebbles, from her path. He took a higher tone, and declaring flatly that she could not be spared from home informed her that if she persevered in her crazy scheme, she must seek out the ways and means for itsi accomplishment herself. No horse or servant of his shouId render her any assistance. "I'll -go, for all -that 1" she said, stamping her foot, a la Galileo, and turning to leave him. -She had' gone about twenty yards, when she heard a shuffling tread in: pursuit;then, a husky cough, that solicited her notice. Fielfaced right about, so squarely, that her admirer, puffing xT fale th theswift gait atwhich he had been cmpelled to rmoire:!to overtake her, could only stand and pant; his eyes roll- iag and his jaw swinging more loosely than ever. N E-M E s' . . 13 "Well t1, said Miss Barbara, bluntly, " speak out!" "I've got a gig-and a horse-and-and-I was meaning fur to--I was intending all along-to go over the mountains, myself, about this week or next. It's cold travelling, I. know, and the gig is open-but shawls and blankets 'and hot-bricks "^ Here the engine gave out, and Miss Barbara stood and looked at him. - "Anything in the shape of a decent man, that can hold the reins and his own tongue!" Such were her deliberations. "I don't know but he will suit: better for being such a ninny. I can manage him.- He's a good-hearted goose, anyway. I'll goi 1 she said aloud, " and much obliged to you,t too 1"- "When?" "To-morrow morning-if you can be ready so soon." "To be sure I can i" he said, with surprising alacrity, aed they walked away in opposite directions, his heart so jubilant with the joy of anticipation, that it drowned the voice of conscience, accu- sing him of the only downright lie he had told, within his recol- lection, for as the intelligent reader has surmised, he had no more idea, an hour previous, of visiting the Blue Ridge, than of Under- taking an expedition to the lunar mountains. "Mr. Slocum i" She was retracing her steps. Had she-reconsidered the mat- ter? A cold sweat broke out all over him, and his great feet overlapped each other, moreawkwardly tlian was custoimiary even- with them, as he tried -to meet her. "I was thinking" -" t : 71: ' "I was afraid so i It's always the way with 'me ,lider poor Slocum, inwardly. . "I was thinking," said Miss Barbara, looking troObled:,i' that those good folks the Hales, may not get: on so w:, for ou r being away. 'Spose we do what we can to make theem wm fort- able, before we go. A copleof loads of oo, andieat orders o , . ' page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] that the- milk shatl be sent regular. You understand? And I'1 make up a basket of things for 'em to-day. * "Um, bun- he nodded, too happy in this relief of his fears to speak plainly. That night, Bessy wrote a letter at her husband's dictation, to lMalcolm Argyle. . e was the only plank between them and ruin.:- Pay-day would be upon them before he could possibly get, mucah!ess answer the call they had promised to' make, in the event'of any strait which he could enlarge. -Hw little had they then .antcipated- aa eemergency like, this I Their hope was that Mr. Sancroft would not esteem it worth while to eject them at the expiration of the term; that past punctuality would be some security. for future payment. It showed their just appreciation of the man; that neither of them once suggested an. appeal, to his hmanity. He had never been near them since Mark had -declarednon-intercourse. :His November collection was made through his son, a lad of sixteen, already the confidential book- keper in a. neighboring storej,and a promtisng follower in his father's footsteps, so far as unblushing assurance and devotion to 9ag- went. Bessy wrote silently all that Mark wished to say. It was a calm statement of their impoverished condition, ending with a reference to the pledge Malcolm had asked and received at part- ing,:and :an engagement that w"hatever 'aid he might extend to them,Ain their, need, would: be conadered as a sacred loan, to be repaid with the return ofealth-and custom. It wasdirected and se^aled, andBessylaid it aside, to take, .on the morrow, to ",the stove," where the postoffice:was, also .kept. Mark's bed had been removed int. the larger and warmerroom, and:he had not left it nowfor some weeks. -ie asses :of his brown hair weWevery dark, by contrast with the face they, shada d .the OeyePso:sof0ll of hope and life, were sunke, and. dimmed. Instead of the frank, boyant expression that used t ess 'r? . - NEMESIS. 1 beholder with an instinctive perception of the energy, and san- guine temperament of the man, there-was now a patientsweet ness that told of resignation to -trials, that were yet ieating into his soul. ' Bessy took up her needle again. It was'theirsole: dependence, and in its slenderness and brittleness was a fit type--of the-pre, carious -nature of that support. The drooping' head must bend over it, for hours to come, ere its needed rest was gought. Mark's regards were fastened upon his wife,--yearningly. Theshtarpest thorn in his pillow was the sight of her privations and dIudgery, and the recollection that it was endured for him. She:dia not repine aloud. Her voice was gentle to Kitty; yet: more-: tet'r to him. The playful humor that had made more merry their prosperous days, -was not wanting now- to beguile :himnfrom thoughts of pain and weariness, and as-she went about thie-ouse, busied in domestic duties, she sang,.as she- had ever done.-no one but himself could dream, with what an achimgg heari. t e 6ould not ask her to forbear this hardest- effort of loving deceit1 bi ut, sometimes, he turned his face :to the wal, andairgy wept,:as : ' blithe carol was borne to his ears from the adjoining room. She believed- that he had fallen asleep now, for his face was: m shadow, and the gloom she Bfought with, 'when it would-enfold him with her, under its: wings, brooded over Jher featutres.' ,:The were lines in the brow, and a sullen maligni yin th:e eyety: at made Mark shudder. The- pressure that in cr ahhi':t:ea , filled the moral atmosphere with fragranWe, waasetracting/; B i'on from hers. If she -would speak, and tell him-: the deyserate thoughts that assailed her, spirit-its temptations to'a ed-of man, and blasphemous murmurs against her liGod t 1-: 'r z ' Bessy^ he said, softly, " what are yout-hinking 0?-: :^ : The question took her by surprise.\ - ; .. : "Of youM,PMa't ; "And what else? - - '- is. , , , :. , page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] ^ -^ -K .fli .tt a I S . She dashed down her work, and, throwing herself upon his - bed, broke into a flood of-stormy sorrow, the current so long and painfully confined to her own breast. "What'have you done, my good, precious husband, to be des- pised -and deserted in this- way?--to be left without a single friend except your wife and child? You, who never did an unkind or a dishonest thing; who have always tried to-make others happy I . No man can point his finger to one sin you ever comaitted-; yet if you were the worst criminal that ever lived, you could not be made to sutffer more. Oh I is it strange that -my-heart, breaks when I think of it?--that I am ready to curse tee ungrateful, unfeeling wretches that are chasing you down, like a hunted wild beast? I hate them Oh I how I hate :thena. IP" ' "Dear, dear Bessy 1 poor little wife " Mark passed his trembling :hand over her head. "You do love me I I cannot be unhappy when I remember this, and it is never forgotten. My: d/arling is wordn out with working and nursing, and this makes her see things differently from what she will to-morrow morning. It is not man, but the Lord, who has laid mne and kept me here, Bessy. 'Think of dear Miss Barbara, and of Mr. Slocum's goodness. Nolone else knows how badly off we are. And who can tell what may happen in our behalf in six days? We certainly shall not starve before that time, for the stock of provisions pur friend left with us this afternoon will last so long- if- we get no more. Then comes the crisis-pay-day. Don't tremble so; dear wife I It is better to look the monster in the eyes, and see if he is not less terrible than we have thought. If we ,have no money, we cannotpay the rent. There is no disput ing that. Now, Mr, Sancroft knows that the law hands overmy :murntre to: my landlord, in case I :fil to satisfy him in any other y.- 9The furniture is here, and there is no danger of my ibsconding with it at present "-smiling at the melancholy jest. v "I Ja. . * L -E L .L;JL "What can he gain by pressing matters, except the reputation of having cruelly turned out -a helpless, sick tenant, who never tried to shirk a just debt; but only asked, like- the servant-we read of in the Gospel-' Have patience with me, and I. will pay theepall?' He dislikes me, it is-true; but he likes popularity, and so sure as he carries out the letter of the law against me, just so certainly will his reputation'suffer. All men feel pity for the oppressed ' "' And on the side of their oppressors, there was power P"' said Bessy, impressively. Mark started at the quotation, and his brow contracted ; then,.- recovering himself, he proceeded as if she had not internrpo d him: . aSo you see, as he may lose something, and can make nothing by severity, he will, very likelyi wait a month -or more-perhaps another quarter, and by that time we will have heard from young Mr. Argyle. Should we not, and no- other alternative should appear, I think Mr. Slocum will be my security, although I would not ask it of him. At any rate, he will offer bail to keep me *out of prison." "Prison P" almost screamed Bessy. "Mark, Mark! I will diee before they shall take you there? Oh I is the law so cruel. as that?" . "Be quiet,- dearest. Better men than I have spent years in jail, and their children have gloried in it. But you wil please understand, Mrs. Hale, that we are not going there at all-at least not for this offence. Have not I made ot as plain a case as Mr. Sancroft's eyebrows could have done?" "But, Mark, it is dreadful to think of your being at the mercy, of that man P[ t " "I am not, Bessy ;. I, with my dear ones,- am in thelhands of the merciful Father., He looked reverently and :peacefully upward. * page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] .14^2 . E M S IE S I S. Bessys evil spirit goaded her-on, a"Iso it merciful i im t(o rob youbof one comfort after another; .to. leave you in the power of your enemies-the only enemies you have im the world--and call away the friends who might .have helped you, at the very time when you most needed tl1mT? I :feel. as if foar troubles were, hedging us in on every side ; as 'ifwe were forgotten by the God whom you have served s0 well, ITdeserve nothing better from Him, and if I might bear His judgments alone, I could see some justice in it all; But no the ;h eaiest .burden rests upon you. I cannot endure it! It qannot -JOright,; it is mno merciful!"' ;. ' ,you forgotten so soon, Bessy? 'Wait on the Lord a;d -be of good courage,.and He shall strengthen your heart ; wait, I ay, on the Lord.' If we could see the meaning of His deal- in s as he snds& them, why should we be told to 'wait?' 'Twixt hope anfear six days went by-seven-and the Hales 'hs ,?begnninKg to wonder if Mr. Sancroft's memory had not 'd ,him ..false fior once, where lucre was involved, when the brte ght his:.smart heir and factotum. ' ^: +:; c^oniio6ly than his sire would have done, he presented his dlan, and awaited its payment. Mark was prepared for, him, dw ass:: ely Jaiad before him the existing state of his affairs 4ad No so d compromise. :; ,: ' dn't t :ink- of it," replied the lad, briskly; , It's a ticklish bhis .',:credi't system . 'Don't: believe in it myself; neither ;do+;p neither does Mr. Argyle. Pay, or be sold out and tramfP: lT-,hemps:my orders., - Mark's wan cheek burned at the impertinence; but he restrained :tseff and expostulated, pointing ount the advantage -*hat'his Iandlordmight fiin i waiting, and the impossibility that Cftn' ad n hig by immediatte seiozre 0f his effects: and ejectment. , oe " .hre'swj r, . yreh o takeu,.re " emistaken, 'returned the, Clerk, stillmore rudely. "We are not scared about the quarter thats'gone. Your 'duds' here will cover that." Ho walked to- the middle door and glanced into the other room. "-- Not good for much-; but we'll take themand say nohing about thout the deficiency. Bt you will please recollect, my fine fellow, that yowt are bound for the next three months, not having given notice that yotf inten'icdd to leave, and, having already oveitun' your time by'e a ciuple Iof days.. And that reminds me of another bit of a; dcument 'Itave for you. I'm collector-general for-this region Y' - ' i : He tossed a. folded slip of paper on the bed. :latk?:reft it: calmly. "Dr. Chase's bill," he said to hiswife, whO wieh li : . in speechless terror. "Idid- not expect this'until the cl6t"ii'dy illness,' continued he to young Sancroft. PI have nod:fu::i with which to meet it." ' So I told him," grinned the collector; "i I recfkot-j/t Wouil; , not have been blessed with a sight of it yet awhile, if it :hadi't have been that he agreed with me. 3tt ut:-'i eyit-eaett:al b' the same :time that pa did his Hwas born withmin- I:r':" : for I never saw the chap yet thati could. get- tie blind Side-\ in a bargain. Heard from Malcolm Argyle; lately? would help you out of this scrape;" There was a sinister 'leer in his fae: tfiatf both hbtits aii: wife noted ; but neither had the steadiess of brain:-t6:a'/ 'e to any other cause than the malicious I triumph- otf a baid&-ed boy, to whose coarse handling their cse hadlbeeh te without. reservation. "The law must take its course," said Mark, hi -naetii:; y rising to sustain-him, in the utterance' of his sentence.-' "Dye know wht t-hat is?" queried the imp,:fai. , "Imprisonment, I suppose." "Pre-zactly I I say-l you-dn't seem to:it . iiaa e Been there before,.maybe? When will you be ready to stritr't '" ,ot-before-to-morronoo n. What is tiedisth6 io tejaii I ?^ page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4- X I NE M EB SS. "Twelve miles-long measure-and the mud up to the hubs. But everything is very comfortable after you get there. Old Mammy Paxton keeps the tavern at- the court-house, and the jail, of course. Youll get first-rate fodder and lodgings, at the expense of the county." "MVy wife, and' child can go with me-I suppose?" "Why yes I I don't see why they shouldn't. You- will have to pay "Mammy" for their feed, I reckon, but you've plenty of money, so you won't mind that. The cart will hold you 0all. The law leaves you your bed and your tools. You can put/the bed iNn the bottom of the cart, and go quite stylish-like- younderstand. Your tools will help to amuse you, until you can hear from your brother Malcolm. Won't he cuss, until all's blue, when he knows what a turn I'm serving him, in locking you up-his bosom friend? I am in his debt, to the tune of a licking, he gave me, at school, three years ago. I reckon this w-lDlpayv him off, tolerable handsome." "' If jou haye finished your business with me, you can go!" said Mark, pointing to the door. The lad roared with wicked merriment. "'Like father--like son 1" you think, hey? You ordered hinm- outAd don't want to be backward in the politeness to me? Sd ourt tun will come, to-morrow. At 'noon ' you said, that's lsachusetts Yankee for twelve o'clock, I believe. The car- rage will .be at your door, punctual!" , NEMESIS. l^5 CHAPTER XI. BESSY'S latest supply of needlework was from Mrs. Blanken- ship, a widow, whose farm, of some fifty acres, adjoined that of Mr. Slocum. There was no one by whom the bundteol be sent that day, and in new of the morrow's changes, it 'itasi es. sary that the finished garment should be returned without elay. Leaving Mark in charge of the obedient and devoted giity, the wife set out, that afternoon, for the walk. The widow examined the sewing, critically, found fault with a button-hole, and reckoned that she had so much work, -she thou :t she could afford to slight all, except what the 'quality -gave:her, Bessy made no reply. "That ain't my:way "- continued Mrs. Blankenship, fu y' Ain her bosom for her purse. "I heerd that you got your- -- by sewin', and 'sposed you'd like to keep a customer,--so *i)gas she was willin' and able fur to pay you. 'Tw0nt do fibr folks to take on airs, as I told Miss Barbary, when Ip w, to please her, that you should have that 'ere pair-of, bri : make. Yoth find it up-hill work, settin up for a grandee. Adl another piece of advice, I've got for you, is this. B'ar i minAd, that .a mian's book-larnin' and his Wife's face and l/ayfied ways,-. won't put bread in their young onels mouth. Chr -Baw i -1 Goodness me I You needn't snatch my hand off to gi, t '- woman 1 And, look here, I don't thik Pll ever ihave-no: mre work for you i" The latter sentence was spoken in a raied voiee, to reach the , page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] :-14- N E M ES I S . ears of the retreating Bessy. Mrs. Blankenship went to the window to watch her, as she walked down the lane. "A forward, flighty hussey!" she said to her daughter, who had sat by during the interview. "It did me good to take her down a peg. Did you seed how fierce she stared at me, while I was talkin'? Deliver me from poor white folks I Niggers is twice as respectable." Bessys wrath at the unprovoked insult offered her, carried her on very rapidly until she lost sight of the house by entering the woods. There was no beaten path, and every footstep disturbed the rotting masses of dead leaves, several inches deep: There wi^stfill heaps: of dry ones in hollows, and entangled in the bushes, and their rustling brought the recollection of the gloomy November afternoon, when the strong man, so feeble now, had set her down amongst them and welcomed her to the home from which they were to be ignominiously driven. -All day, she had imprisoned her lamentations in her heart; and in Mark's presence -she must continue to perform the difficult task. She had no tears; :bt she sobbed until she was exhausted, instead of relieved, as she sat:upon the mossy roots of a tree, and held her aching temples tightly between her palms. The wind sighed past her, andtha branches rocked and groaned above her head. She recognized no sympathetic chord in the mourning of Nature over its dead FSnmer.' It was all too gay and joyous for her; for breeze, and thepale :winter sunlight, and leafless boughs were free, and he- -]ei 'Maker's noblest work-was. not-perhaps might never be ' "Apleasant day for the season, Mrs. Hale 1" - -,Sh-'kie wtheointnader, after a second of alarm at his proximity a s e Shehad seen -him: repeatedly in- close attendance ir isqs Argyle, walking and riding by the'cottage, and learned, from Miss Barbara, that he was:a Mr*. Moreau,and supposed to be Eleanor's most favored:admirer. He wasequipped - 1? E M. - s-.sNE '. -iME'?IS ,for hunting, and perhaps thought it incumbent upon' him to plss the compliments of the-day with a tenant of his host when he happened to meet her. The disproportionate rank of-the two excused his not waiting for other- introduction. Her angry impulse to resent the freedom checked bythese reflections,-she courtesied silently, in-reply to his civility, and walked-on.: "How is your husband to-day? he said, joining :her. :"About the same, sir," she replied, 'with extreme coldness "He is a great sufferer, is he not?" . "Yes, sir." "And your own health-is -it injured by your labors: oflave. in his service? -he pursued, with more familiarity, but. maintii g his respectful manner. "No, sir., Bessy walked faster, and-he kept pace with her. . "You have a lovely child, Mrs. -Hale--about six years Rdl I should imagine ; is she not?" - - "She is not yet five." .. "Is it possible-? She is large of. her age. 'Yet -she is -mm0e: graceful than the generality of fast-growing children. s^j unst , be a comfort to you-both, in her ffther's illness. How mWi ,he air It is just the Weather for an invalid to venture :rf i the first time." . - :; -; Bessy glanced up at him quickly: In her sensitive fancied that their crowning misfortune was public -::aid. chance remark was a. wantonly etil allusion: ttit:::: countered a gaze of unequivocal i ation, that, h ht-: modest blood in torrent-toa her f&ji:-ad sea d:,heA I / toward the road, now in si, hi i t'hr(i --- A^It is a pity that your brniiant ;compeionS by the confinement of r:sickomi-:: to r v ::,e woman;,myi dear mjad :.s." , . . . -'- , -"Yotu have no righ-ii-tell me-so,-.- sir ' ,F (': - - page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] 8l 3T NEMESIS. ' "My exalted admiration for such charms; the warmth of my regard for their owner, gives me the right "--But they were at the road. A fence' divided it from the woods, and the gentleman, vaulting over, offered to assist his companion. She refused, by a negative gesture, but -in her haste and conifusion- her foot slipped, and he caught her arm to save her from falling. At this unlucky moment, Sarah, the principal housemaid at Ben. Lomond, trotted by on horseback. She stared broadly and sus- piciously at the pair-a scrutiny under which Bessy felt- herself Vblush yet more deeply, and her officious cavalier looked foolish land$g/ity. The interruption, however, relieved her of his further attentions. 'With -a"Good evening, madam," he whistled to his dog, and struck off into the forest on the other side of the road. 'Sarah's appearance suggested a train of thought to Bessy that banished the tumultuous emotions aroused by Mr. Moreau's gallantries and the woman's peculiar look. Desperate as was the exideney, it cost her a severe and prolonged straggle before she cotld trample personal feeling and pride under foot, and resolve to brave her husband's disapprobation, and farther contumely from the family whose debt of gratitude to, Mark and herself .had been repaid:sso basely. - Mi'ss Barbara's absence fr om Ben Lomond would have been inceoivenient, in any circumstances ; but, at this time, it seemed aii irremiediable misfortune. Preparations: for a large party had - been Commenced before her departure, and the invitations sent outti SJusie had cried and Eleanor Stormed at the preposterous idea of allowing' a dyingM sister's request to outweigh their will -and pleasure etas 'we have seen, Miss Barbarga went on her way, withat Waveriig.: * She represented to the disconsolate maidens, that:iss: Nacy Wilkinson; a. poor and lstahit relatibon of^the Seldoes, who was a proficient in nice cookery, was willing 'and g ,. WE M E 8.IS. , 14 competent to supply her place, and that she would find an, able coadjutor in Sarah, for whose tutelage in this, and similarbranches of the fine arfs, Miss Barbara took all the credit. Findingthat she had really left them in the lurch, Eleanor decided that she could not do better than to follow her advice, and Miss Nancy . was installed housekeeper, pro tempore. The festive eve had arrived, and with it, a number of guests from a distance, who were to dress at Ben Lomond.. .Elenor had issued her last energetic orders below, and, in ithe hal.:f a maid as prompt as herself, had nearly-completed her evenipg oi- let, while Ursula, jaded already, was plodding through a:,ti op . most row of Jessie's curls. The elder sister was in an:' le , mood. This was not an occurrence worthy of note for i' aam - larity ; yet that must have been an obstinate fit -of il-h umor;:thait :-I could resist the pleasing effect of the reflection in her mirror,:or-- roborated by the flattering comments of her tas , ant, -is Argyle's robe was of gold-colored brocade, with. raised fiesE f black; her stomacher of point lace, and her raven hair ad ,-- not hidden, by a turban of yellow crape, flashing with sp gl ' "Jest like an angel, wid hur crown of glory on horn -h-: said- the maid, clasping her hands,:inm petended: ecstasy. Da. -' won't be nothin' else likedat, here, di night l" ; v . Jessie's blue satin gown was spread on the bed, whe sheec ..- !; feast her eyes, during the hadressing, and she iled-,in . - . fidence, as she saw, with her inner visionher owafti. , en s: picture of angelic-beauty. A ray of gratiAfied vnity trembib over ' Eleanor's dark face while she surveyed her-image. , ,.; "What do you ,want, -Sarahp,?". -she: asked, in . m rertp a fi .. ;I tone -than any sheOhad used in hurs prev ions, : ! The woman ud just come i .-her. contenae a.' ., -i: business of imipoet ane. Aplra begr YQPTa -g-', v' whispered, guardedly, -"Shs ais i.- 5W i." - * ** *' *-.:. . ..-".. page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 ' NEMESIS.-- "Whom do you mean?" inquired Eleanor, drawing back, an ominous frown wrinkling her forehead. "The shoemaker Hale's wife," Sarah whispered again. "She looks wild-like, and wants to'see one of the young ladies-you, if she can. Says she won't keep you but a minute. I thought maybe you didn't want her up here." "'I-do not!' The- woman judged correctly that her mistress did not care to have 'her" sister acquainted with the supposed flirtation of her admirer with the cottager; her conjecture corresponding with her young lady's, viz., that Bessy's unseasonable visit had some reference -to Sarah's discovery of the forest adventure of the afternoon, "Show her into the study, and shut the door. I will be down directly," concluded Eleanor, after a moment's pause. The most artful praise could not have expelled the baleful demong that now'took possession of her soul, and made threatening her glances. Her compressed lips and lowering brow hastened and silenced her maid. She could not draw a free breath, while the lightning bolt might be hanging over her head. As she was leaving her chamber, Eleanor spoke sharply to her sister: "Jessie I youwill not be dressed before midnightj at that rate. You and UrsuIa are lazy and worthless alike." Then she drew to the door violentlyiand went downstairs, and thrgh a long passage to the study. This was Malcolm's favorite retreat; his especial sanctum, when he was at home. There were his desk and reading-chbair, and upon the shelves that filled up one end of the apartment, was his collection of books-comprising the library of -the mansion, leiaving-bout Jessie's novels. The room was seldom used in his abjsne^ e;-but to-night,- Eleanor foresaw a possibility that it would be reqi '-edas a- dormitory, if many of the guests should remaina until'morning; therefore fire and candles-were already provided. ui..i6Ig th. provded I *. '- 'N *S M E I . - .151 Against the oaken wainscot, above the mantel, as suspended a portrait, and Bessie stood upon the rug, lookin g up upat it.. It represented a lovely woman; still young, but ith a matronly gravity in her features; a soft thoughtfulness in her eyes, that rseemed to bespeak the experience of a wife and mother. - The X resemblance to Malcolm, and, except in expression, to Eleanor, told Bessy who had been the original ofthpicture. If shewere living, and here, with what different emotions would she presen t her petition I Yet the mild, chastened face encouraged her t, "rmeet the daughter, 'with less shrinking than she had felt a minute ago. i A. Eleanor entered with a slow, stately step, drawing on the lon white gloves that veild the faultless hand and part of the arm. "Did you -ask to see me?" she inquired, not looking -in thi direction of her auditor ' "Yes, madam." ' pThere was a sobbing gasp, as Bessy summoned her sinkin resolution, expiring under the influence of the icy accents. X"What you have to say-say quickly; I amin a hurry2 "My husband is very sick; Miss Argyle ;" and atthoaght Mark-ill, perseduted and patient, Bessygrew bolder. E 'has not been able to do a day's work this winter. I have:tri hard to make up for this ibut all that I have done has'j ket us from starving, and bought'his medicines. Our- quarter's - is due. We have furniture which would cover this, but; ir.:S croft sent us word, this morning, that We were bound-forthe he three months' hire besides. I cannot believe that your fath - ., will allow us to go to jail because we are not able to pay th ! X X;ii: The law-may bear out Mr. Sancroft's threat ;but it is not ri or merciful to -bring ruin upon an innocent man in this-wt . ] cannot leave his bed, and it may kill him-that;:!}on rough , I' r ' to prison: We must go:to-morrow, unlessyOuwilgfipus, ii' A "I am not my fathera' man-of business.1' 'Was:it -awoman page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 N EME' IS . a beautiful fiend that spoke? "I never interfere in such mat- ters. K4r. Sancroft understands what he is about, I presume. Youtmast go to him with your complaints.' "You must lInow him, Miss Argyle ;must know that he is a hard, cold-hearted man, who shows no pity to anything. He has taken a great dislike to us." '"Indeed!" sarcastically. "That is remarkable. I thought that youinspired gentlemen with another feeling. Perhaps it is - jeay that shuts his heart against you," ?Jealousy t echoed Bessy, innocently. "Why should he be jealousodf me?" I eaniot indrtake to say, unlessbecause Mr. Moreau has sup planted him in your favor. He is your latest conquests I believe." Hier look was more offensive than her language. The fire leaped to the wife's eyes. "It is a slander I a vile falsehood I a wicked story, made up by youservant, and which you ought to have been -ashamed to believelt she cried, passionately. "My character is a dear to we as yours is to you, Miss Argyle I Ask yourlr. Moreau how he happened to meet me, and where. If hespeaks the truth he .wil- tell youa what I do now-that he overtook me on/my way homn, and would walk by my side; that the worst of his condct was to pay me nonsensical complimnents, which meant thiSand that, I only- answered him when 'he obliged me to ::gSo. - Oh Miss Argyle I your family have injured us eno ugh .alreeady. If youhave the feeling of a woman, do noftry to0Put more shame 'upon those who never did you asinglewrong!"' Eleanor was obiged to' beieve this explanation of the en- counter that had roused her jealous rage,; but thi burden. of the blame, if blame there was in the affair, was, by this version, rthrown wholly upon: her 'admirer, ad- the "creature's "imperti- nence wass too- heinous an offence to'-be atoned for by!er mnanifest innocence of other crimes. ^ .g KEMESIS. . - ^t "What do you suppose I care whether the story be true or not?" she said, in angry scorn. "Ydur love-affairs and all your other concerns are of no consequence to me, except that :they are detaining me from more agreeable company:than I can hope to find in you. I repeat, I never interfere in my fathers business. Nor does Mr. Sancroft. act without orders. His conduct, in this instance, appears to me to -have bteen most commendable.- His only fault in the whole matter was letting you have the house at first. It has produced nothing but trouble to -us, and- I : ejoice that. we are likely to be well rid of you. With thee sentiments, it is very unlikely that I would raise a finger to keep, you ,there,' She departed as she had come-sweeping on, with g-igent, yet haughty grace, and fitting the- other glovre-on her s upery moulded arm. As Bessy passed the lighted porch, a goup- of revellers alighted from their carriages, and just within the- t'ree- hall,' appeared the:radiant face and figure of the youthful hostess, eager to welcome each with a profusion of honeyed phrases andt l dazzling smiles. . page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 NEMESIS. CHAPTER XII. THE cart, containing the law-officer and his prisoner, reached the Court House at sunset. The vehicle had not been punctual, as was promised, and the deep mire of the road obliged the miserable animal,' attached to the load, to walk every step of the way. The Court House village was a collection of dingy buildings the principal being the store, the tavern, the court house, and in portentous proximity to this, the jail. Mark was not able to lift his head to look at it, as the cart stopped; but Bessy saw a frame-building, by no means spacious, and devoid of any sign of its character, except the bars across the windows. The aspect of the place was less forbidding than-she had pictured it; -yet her heart relinquished its last hold on hope, as she arose to assist in her husband's removal. Their driver, although an illiterate constable, and accustomed to such tasks, was humane, in his bearing and tone, and had done his best to mitigate the hard- ships of the journey to the sick man. Mark noticed this, and was thankful for it, while Bessy's apathetic misery blinded her to everything except the fact that he was Mr. Sancroft's emissary. Without looking toward him, or the knot of curious bystanders that gathered about the jail-door, she folded the- blankets over Mark, and asked, in a whisper, how they should lifthim out. If ever I was so beat out, in my life!" The exclamaion proceeded from a man, who bustled across the road, ftom the tavern, with a ponderous bunch of keys in his hand. - I, : NEMESIS. "IMrs. Hale 1 and is that your husband in there, or his shad- der? Good Fathers!" "It is what is left of me, Mr. Paxton," replied Mark, extend- ing his hand. The worthy wagoner seized it in a vice-like grasp. "I can't say that I am glad to see you l" he said-a -husky edge to the voice, usually so round and unctuous. "As my ole womanisays, ' Wonders will never cease 1' Well I well! well I Easy, Mr. Jones i" to the constable. "Let me get a firmiold on the other side of him. And the little gal, too Bless my soul I Sam, my boy; run and tell your niammy to come here quick as she can I Say there's somebody sick, and she'll yti "y Accordingly, they were hardly in the room destined for their reception, when there hurried in a short, plump woman; ruddyj as her husband, and far better-looking. He took her into a corner, and whispered the sad story, or so much as he had gathered from the officer. There were drops on her facelie dew on a full-blown rose, when she shook hands with Bessy. "I've heard my man tell of you,' she said. "tHe'took a mighty fancy to you, when you come on witk hhm, and he'v stopped to see you, -three or four times-ain't he?)' -Bessy answered that he had ; but not lately. No ; because he's- left the road and gone to tavern-keepin'. And this is the baby he talks about? Why she's a smat girl' 1 Kitty, whose wonderment and grief at the events of the:day had rendered her shy of strangers, could not shrink from kthe-d, voice and hand. "I will send my little girls over to play with you, hone , You shan't be lonesome. Mrs. iHale, let me help you I Tomi ery, - won't you have a fire built? There's no place so por that a fire won't make it livety 'cotrdin' to my: . i? - Is it not against your regulations? inquired Mark-, : l page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] it56 . X BM X S I 8. She laughed--a bubbling, jolly sound, that suited herb well. "I don't care overmuch about reg'lations. My business is to see that all's right in-doors, and nobody out, and if they want to pin me down to reg'lations, they may find somebody else to keep the keys. It's aginst my feelin's to have you perish in this chilly hole, 'and I reckon nobody will find fault." There were sound sleepers in the jail that night ; the slumbers that succeed intense and continuous excitement of mind or body.- And, although they could not analyze the feeling, both Mark ' and' B yT.. were calmer, less depressed, by the waking thoughts of next morinng, than they had been in months past. The crisis waxover, and- calamitous as was the culmination of their winter's trials, it was a positive relief to cease watching. for succor that :never came ;, to say to one another, that the storm had broken in all its fury, and left them alive 'and together. Bessy was not hopeful. She had been bowed too low for that; yet neither was she fiercely despairmng, as upon the preceding day. The morning was spent 'in'-setting the room in order, and disposingthe few effects they had :dared to bring with them, so as to confer some- things like a snug air upon the large desolate-looking apartment. The Paxtons, from the oldest to the youngest, seemed to have adopted- them into their family. The burly form of the: ex- teamster rolled in and out, every-hour or so, alto see that the fire wa^son';" ore "if Mrs. Hle wanted anything: or, 'how Mr.; alewas feelin';" and he had each time, some consolatory and philsophic adage of his ' ole-woman,I' that ,assuredly relieved his spirit, whether it had any healing for theirs. or not. It was a :singular fact, that he was the solitary and favored, recipient of Qthese nut-shells of wisdom from -hisbuxom help-neet. -No other mortal everheard herutter one of the thosand and one proverbs, 'for which he continually credited her ; yet, .as his veaity was :above :question, nobody .-doubted hisi impli beef il: their reputed authorship. -Mrs. Paxton was" less:. ni:; but: as 1 ^ KE MKSI . ' S * , sincere in her sympathy ad :desire to alleviate, by everymens in her power, the distress situation of her interesting sners. The- children, healthI gIood-humorIi matl; went wI wwith delight about Kitty, d succeeded, by tie afternoon, in coa g her: over to theiri:ise. Bessy ;forwarded their wsuit, for s-ie dreaded the effectobf uiet confinemet uponthe sceptibleld; the premature pisiveness that beganf to mark- ;her minnertie'n speech. ' - - ' ..- Mark, droppe asleep when the boiste rou wds ' 1a dff . their prize, and Bessy sewed quietly beside: his.: s be f , dying-into a ;dri4ling: evening, 'denied her lih ,o:iirlk. Mark slept st!, and she crossed the hand,;so el e, and mused over/the red-hot embers. - I i - - o She realied -what she had never thought- ow old she had grown since thee active, merry, ;!the ,:. she had numberedi up to that fatal Novei , i sickness, had not marked, and changed he d i ti moits that 'had'- dragged by- since. With -thel ff th staff, she knew how entire had been-hervdA'p t remembered him, as he wasin- their cort lif e of the -cirle that was then herwdr Iof ?1 0 the simple villagers ; recalled the pr dict s them, of his --future -emin h young l men, where he-was to bI^:a ee Sherman? to , hisw birth-place; ddt longer and :m&ore fn pe ittsi and acts that had made everyday of their Wedde& t: i era, signalizing the discovery of: newer hand sweete ppitess. Not a -shaft of misfortue- lhad reaedhed r bek os ,: - h,&er shield; Aw dash Yetedi O ittthisx- hourlhr . - and c page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] *turned,.her back,.upon the homestead and the graves of er p,{rents,; and. prepared to follow him into the'.!unkown country that lay outside the boundary of herown Blue Hills.- She knew herself to be unworthy of his love and companionship,; for in the furnace of their affections, he was becoming like the refined gold, she lilre the dross, that changes fast in the heat, to ashes, yet more earthy. But for the fetters of that pure love for him ; but for his controlling- influence over her impassioned nature, she was reay:to.,rush into the-wildest extremes of foll and madness. Thewife's devotion and the mother's instinct-were all that pre- se d thle, mined'rbalahee. If she put her 'treasures out of sight forone instant, she felt like tigress, thirsting for prey., Gentle and fond as were most of her meditations, there -as an Occasional sparkle in the eye, like the glitterof a sword in the sunsne; the red lips were set, and the 'teeth gnashed in impo- ient "M'enace.: h lre-,i dripped dreary from the- roof, and 'the fire roned its sleepy song. A lonely cricket chirped under the- eartii,and a deathM-watch ticked -inl-the wall. Perhapsit was he: combined effect of these sounds and the hour and weather, or t:msay::have been 'a lurking superstition that rendered Bessy ney;att tMhis, last noise. Try, as I - gmightotto listen, the !oa/o-ou., tick? 'tick I' vibrated upon her er more andmore tfmtl, , until(the pained ner, s:--conveOyed no other sensation iCa::athe b featofthe sharpstrokes upon the drum. Atth sk-. ofwa-king: the sleeper, she'struck smartly upon the wall,e bpe:: the mysterious insect appearea to be located but the : went- on as, steadily. She -stirred -th-' fireand waed TOO:,. - ... - .--.4ure;rer nd. walked av:=iecho3 in ing eh-ibe; reach, the others,- , . t -had: vetvheeahi, thaot :,no aoh" ,Oe' hi,- - A ,g deliver her: from the annoyancel, which- had- now, grownto :;be- insiupportable, He mrmured, as-he-awoske-somethMg-inarticu late--and she leaned over him to catch it., - "What do you, want, dear Mark?? - "The elms are in- leaf early- this year," he- said,;:dreamii, . "Have you noticed them, Bessy,?" "Mark! Darling!" she called, shaking his shoulder. ' You' are not awake. What are you dreaming about?' - "The bees are hnmming over the buttercups in the garden;- and the strawherry-bed is in bloomi I have been learing away- the dead: grass, and tying up thes rose-bushes orff your motherts' grave." . ' "Dear Mark l': repeated the wife, tearfully. ' Don't youknow .- me-your own Bessy?": He, smiled up in her face.. . - "What a question I I cannot remember the time when-I did- not know and love Bessy Bryan- Bom Bessie Be asiheaold: Scotch piper used to call her. Weren't we marriedtwo :t , ago, last September? You'll find it in the Family Bible-- r Hale andM argaret Elizabeth Bryan.' ":: . - -- ,-:': ' : - '"!:.:- '- : His hands were burning, and- his sunken cheeks red with&fer: . T!kese tokens of an unfavorable change, Bessy could see -by i - firelight, and to hergreat jyog se now heard MrPaos: --:i outside, . , , ' ,-' - "- '--,' -" ; - - "'-Open the -door for me, Tom. My hands are brimfiul? : -I: She depositea-: herbasket o eatables upon the;thle, aind. - : ceeded to lighti a a dIe. t - - ' - "I reckon yo .:thought we me an- to lswt you to-night' : Hale/; but thered-happened two or tree tra vellerS ? *je:a : per-te - -.; -;ime - r - 1* - She. stopped, :at seelug- Bes: '" haad- h Ais ^ye -i. *d: then 0j 6tA. -:; h e... [ . ' - ., . ' ,' , -, - ,- ' , . :' ., ' -. ;' . , , " , ','?-* page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] h 60 . XE -M I kE M E SI . expressed her' concern and surprise. 'A dctress in her way, she 3 Shis pulse, and looked graver still at its- uncountable beats. the touch of the cool fingers, he spoke again. - " - I have been giving Baby Kitty her walking-lesson. t tightly the I ittl e thing held my hand I She will trot all over yard, soon." . For he irst time in her life, Kitty slept away from her moth that night Mrs. Paxton shared the wife's vigil, for ark tos and raved until the dawn. Then came a physician, for who u Patxton had sent, unknown to Bessy.- He was not a I (hase, and his friendliness reassured Bessy, while he inquired in the symptoms and examined the state of the patient. She wou] have read his face, when this was over; but it was impenetrable Her merely said,. "Treat him thus, and thus," and "I wi call again this evening ;Y which he did, and slept that niht at th tavern. t Mark was rational by the following morning "better evers way," as Bessy told the doctor, at his early call, and he did nor gainsy it. In the course of the forenoon, as Bessy was reclining upon her hnsband's bed, one of Mr. Paxton's sons entered with a letter, which had been handed him at the Postofice for Mrs. Hale. M Markis langduid'eye kindled, and not 'to keep him in suspense, she read it aloud e PrNw1LJE-OOuNir, N. OaRARNwA, cad. IOTAl 1799. IMY iGA SISTER: I guess you and Mark has offten indered thereason why no Letters came from4 He to tell whether I was alive or Ded or doing wel or (What seams to you as likely, maybeen .din T'iuth is, I hhvi not -'a' --' ' ': j ) g hing atl the I:shoud- when lie and -your...usba.; i; Paos'! hoppe d and thout; ngthaiis Hardle, to StarvPe?w0 thin one { whkh is a Strae th/'grto:(say :; furst, site,. and hapeui*ng too-get acquainted with* a ikely. ,Wii woman, with considerable property, a Store and a: Taem, and a Tr sto; - . N E-M E S I S. , f[ smart managing woman whose house, I stopped- at pretty considerable Often, mostly over Sundays, for I never can feel rite travilling, on that Holy day, and I made up my mind to sell out my Stock and settle down de- cent and Respectable, and take a Wife, which providence permitting, I shall ! do To-morrow. Me and Mrs. Smith (which is her name at Present) have : talked About you and Mark a many times, and I told Her how you was the X ffi Only sister I had in the world, andhow Clever and sensible and' working Mark was, and how good you both was to me, when I was a lazy Feller, with no money and no Home, and Mark lent me money to buy my Furst lode of goods and lots of advice besides, and I would never have got on At all, without him, and you maid and mended. my dloaths and- did My washing and so on, and she said right. out, that I must send her Besfit ove, and invite you to come to our House, you and Little kitty and. Mark and :iil . any other Famly you has, and stay long as you ehoose, and if theres anything we can do for you, you must let us know Right away, and we will be Glad and happy to sorve you. And she is a Plainspoken woman, and what she says-she means you may depend On it, and hoping this will :Jj f fined you in the enjoyment of the same Blessing, I am very Well, and i remane always your affectionate brother, JACOB BRYANi ' "What is the date?" inquired Mark. "January 10th," answered Bessy. "It has taken a long while to come." "The place, I mean." v "Pineville, County, North Carolina," read Bessy. "It is in the eastern part of the State, not far from the vse board," said he, thoughtfully. You would not have much trouble in getting there, if you had the money. The Lord will:provide a way and- the means." Bessy regarded him with unaffected wonder. "It will be some weeks before you are strong enough tt take such a journey, even if we are released-from this plae e said "Do you think it would be-a good-settlement for you?, - He did, not reply immediately. ; Heappeared' tow be6 seing words, or summoirinhg strength to cowey what he would impt, page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 1i2 NEMEX SIs. "Has it -not occurred to younBessy, that I may not get well of this-sickness?" "I have never trusted myself to suppose such a thing," she returned, growing very pale. , - !"Then dear- wife, it is time for me to speak. You must go to your brother after: I leave you. You have no other near blood- relationliving, and his house will be the best shelter for you and your-child. You see how kindly he invites you, and how grateful he is for what we have done for him. Are you listening, Bessy? I cannot speak louder.. tI hear you," issued, in a whisper, from the white lips. :Wi-le I have my -senses I will tell you how to act, for my tinme is too short to waste. This bed and my clothing will- bring a trifle, and should the rest of the sum you will need come from no other quarter, write to Jacob how you are situated, and stay here with Mrs. Paxton until he sends you money, or you can earn it by- your needle. Friends will be raised up to you in your hour -.of need. I have His promise for that. The seed of the- righteous shall never beg bread. I am the chief of 'sinners, yet? iccepted as righteous in the Father's sight, for the Son's sake .. :He paused. -Bessy could not move or speak. Like a marble statue of desoltion,' she gazed at. her-idolized husband, her awavkened fears gathering terriJe certainty frofm the signs of fail, ing:strength and breath,: she perceived inhinm. . .'.,Yon will miss ,-me, daring. We have been very happy together." A pang unsettled the tranquil feature. "But remem- : er that I have entered into rest; that all pain and sorrow and uwea'ess:are at an end; for 'so He:giveth Bis-beloved sleep.' Will you meet me there, dea wife, a:nd;brig our precious little one-wityon?.: I do not askL yourpromise now. You are ready to:say :and. :do anything that would please me.- - But think of it ; ,er brget;thati is my last earthly hope,;my test prayer for * * ' ' ' ' ' - i -N ENEMY S IQ S. 163- those I leave behind me., Let mychild-or child--be taught-to know her father's God. . "I am wonderfully supported,' he said by and by.- "-I tiould have said, before the trial came, that the thought of yobr destilta, tion and the probable:hardships in store for.: you and-dear :-A y would, press, like a mountain, 'upon my spirit;: yet, IaVe no fears for your temporal welfare ; -ff one: 1- This is dying grae. They had no private interview after that. The: doctor -came again later in the day, and went through -a form of inquiryand prescription. As he retired he motioned to -Mrs. Pazxtonwtaofol- low. - . . .- "( Do you know that he is dying?" he said to her, when, they were alone, outside of the door. 4 I mistrusted -so," replied the kind creature, wiping her eyes. a"He will hardly last through the night. They are veryioor^. I think you said,?" - "Yes, sir, or they wouldn't have. been here. Y ou see, f6ro: yourself, what uncommon sort of people they are. -Oh, doctord I Law is a dreadful, wicked thing I I told-'em I'd takel:harg of the jail for twelve--months; but after the sight I've: se"een:a n - what, Tom and I has underwent, this one weekiwe'd neither -f:- keep the keys another year ; not if youwas totpack theaoolhus with gold and silver for us. Tosee a :blessed-C -hri&tian klike 1t- - brought here a-dyin4 ' as-yobu may say, and for .what?' Jest :bib the Almighty tied his hands so as he couldn'tmake ngk ney :;a man as is rollin in wealth areadyI . Ah I depend :-on-t,-0':itrs a day of reckoni'm comin' for 'such as sent -them poor erit - here!" - i -1 -' * *P* ' : ;"*. The :doctor did not rebuke iher vehemence, Perhaps: :' ':r ciated thejustice of hernreprobation. ,I They have'no fiends in this State, I think? Mr, .: t foId ^th^orl,^ksimr. rThe -Lordilyk6wsaa i kilb6: page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 1,.64 X E BE IS. of the mother and her child I If they will stay with us they sh never want a seat in the chimney corner, and enough to eat, w Tom. and I live." "I believe you, madam, and the offer'is what all who kn( you would expect. Still, would it not be more kind to send the back. to their home and relations? I am sure that, with ave slight. effort, I can raise among my acqnaintaoces a ub8ripti that will'cover the travelling expenses of the two to Massach setts. Please ascertain for me, as soon as it is proper to inquir afterall is over, what are. Mrs. BIale's wishes in this respect, ar rely upon me, for the means of carrying them out.", Turning a deaf ear to, her reiterated thanks and blessings, th: nobleman of Nature's creation mounted his horse, and set or upon his benevolent errand. More tiavellers halted at the inn, at sundown; but the land lord alone received them. "Mother Paxton " was scrupulous i #er' personal attention to the table and chambers of her cus tomers ; but this evening, " Tom" and her eldest son were he: representatives. She,;did not stir from the chamber of death he, itrthwas acknowledged by all who saw the sufferer, aht recognized by none, .with more composure, than by hini whom it maost' earl y .eoncerned IHe retained his consciousness and the sability to sPealk The , ripples of the cold river were breaking over, his feet, yet his faith quailed not; his peaceful eye already saw the brightness of the farther shore. Several charitable atneigors, o f Pthbe sPaxtaons had. come in, to tender their services .. .esy remained seemingly unaware of their presence; Mark thanked each one with a grateful glance or word. mu bonut eighti o'clock, Mr. Paxton entered as softly as he e::: -"o .s!he;, now?", hewhispered to his wife. ' 'rk:.hegrd:,:'.him,.and answered. "Thank you; I do 'not , suer.: Iam w gaspatiently asI can.," N E x X E -I 6 .. ,-6 "That's what I told him!" said the landlord, chokingly. said you was all ready, and willin' to go." "Told who?" Mrs. Paxton anticipated the inquiry Mar would have made. "A minister, who is stoppin' at the tavern to-night. He wa mightily int'rested in what I told him about you, Mr. Hale, an, he sent me to know, would you like to have him come in-an pray with you." ' Indeed, I would .be most happy 1" was the earnest response There was stillness in the room, until Mr. Paxton returne, with the clergyman. Mark was evidently husbanding his remsair ing strength for the interview. The silence of the rest-was ita of awe and expectation.. Mark's gaze was pon the doorn ;a! his face brightened, as. his visitor advanced. Bessy, too, start tl at the unlooked-for sight of Mr. Laidley's remembered conntenaiac His mute pressure of her hand revealed his respect for, acn sympathy with her. woe ; yet his voice, as he- accosted Mark, wa almost cheerful. "Ought I to be grieved atfinding you so ill, Mr. Hale "; The bystanders looked curiously at him. The question was,; to them, inexplicable. The dying man's reply was prompt. - :- "No, sir I Do you recollect telling me that-dark days' dfte seemed bright, when seen- from the ,shore of Eternity? iIfee now, that for my own sake, I would/not have had-one Cloud th less. His accents were clear, but faint, and his breathing shor*^ a tone yet more low, although audible, he added, as-in ,liUt y "There shall be no night there. i' I ^.:l:l " And- there shall be no more death ;- neither soro, na crying-oither shall there be any more pain^,"repea-!ti minister's, sweet, afervent- tones: e." BLessed arethey:whih, ar calledi nto the. marriage-supper of the . . .t t - . be the pokt0n of all here presentlet u :p - b- the t . ' page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] - s186 - - E So E-8 I S. There was a change in the face of the. dying, when the others . :,:a sefrom their knees--not in expression, for the light that -:'la-:a'd it. was never more to flicker or fade; but in hue and features. The greyish pallorcould not be misunderstood. In- formed of this by the countenances of those about him, or warned by the unerring instinct of Nature, his eye went meaningly around the circle-a kindly farewell in it, to each one ; then, raising one arm, he drew Bessy's head upon his pillow, her cheek reSting against his. There were whispers of blessing and endear- -mewt. unheard by other ears than hers ; a message for the sleep- hild, o:had, that evening, received the last " good-night" :F:iahe coul: ,ever know from a father; and at his request, the : -'Iipressed her lips to his-one long, clinging'caress--and again laid:her cheek to one cold with the damps of -death. He slum- beled: thus for a moment, aid all supposed that :consciousness ^ - ud never return-when he awoke and addressed Mr. Laidley: ;(. .: -,Plese, sinmgthe hymn I heard at church: 'There is a foun- -:eim:ster didno t hesitate a second. Affected and surprised ; ::.^ Ji:e was at the request, he sang softly, andwith wondrous , ::^:dytewordhs'that-haveupborne many a soul in its passage i- : read^oflife wrasparting verygrually. There was still ; .,:a:l"e':r :stratd eft, when ihe music ceased. The smile of in- ',eace 'e -eyetshone throtph-thelnaments of the living, and - O - Pa^ton :^hid-el^r hald tothe lips to discover ^^l^itMi breath had not departed, the pulse leaped,&denly; -.i?;/ a:-era, es shotf Orthaway, and an exclamation,l] cry of - A//i;..l iyrx m :hi s O wMife'S neck, The " aimmering it O, i f r d8th:the Somed sPimt ang the ,- ,' *- CHAPTER 'XIII. ,: . TWELVE years had wrought no material alteration iw the:hy, ' sical aspect of the "Deep Run neighborhood," ana ^a': of country, about six miles in extent, near the centre of whit ws, situfated Ben Lomond. There was more cleared and- more-t land, for trees were burned faster than they grew,-and" i one field was- drained of fertility, virgin soil must spply it::i*e. Guano and super-phosphate were- unknown,^anid would -hi - an unprofitable speculation to their vender, had they been- iff to the contented planter, who complained of, being crowf)., from his house-door, he could in any direction, espy the-A io:f. a neighbor's chimney. If his negroes were numerou';-so, ia acres; his hogs fattened on the mast -under:tlheoi'-:thx ; called for no cultivation; corn grew almost -,d the meat and bread of his thriftless dependentse'wasate. ;-i : a wealthy community, 'made tup' of Aospi&ble . on social terms with one andoter,a aiS every manuphd: rest- in, the comfortable conicion; ttiat nowhere-else: in monwealth were more inthlligence, fortune and blood co. dll a like-limited space*- - . - - -W - The descendaans 'some instances, the degenera... ' a noble old stock -hhave- irden this- hobb-y?:o ^^f" that it pases--and no wonder:i -in thsist; -and lamest of-h-at- --!^!n] o the daring in shul, -whb Bhas hoiwn tS. t, ness:lftugi Woith aftatfiuscai e I 'h "+ page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] '168 N E ME S IS. with contempt, at the weak-bodied, and weaker-headed pigmy, the offspring of intermarriage No. 50, burdened by a name big- ger than himself, who yet struts at an easy gait, through the jostling masses of common clay ; thumbs in his arm-holes, nose in the air, and pipes shrilly of his illustrious parentage," and the " gallant old times." We say it is contemptible, a humiliating spectacle-but let us not despise the fountain, because its stream, by reason of many diversions, has grown thin and feeble. The Old Dominion was a royal State, and her sons among the princes, in gentle breed- ing as in valor; men of pith and sinew and brains, who, could they revisit the earth, would scout as an insult, the claims to ancestry, so flauntingly borne by certain of their. grandchildren. At the period onrwhich we have settled, after the leap in our history, there was an unusual religious interest astir in the region. The leaven of wholesome doctrine sedulously and faithfully dis- tributed, was working out, its legitimate result. Here, the ma- -terial was unpromising. French infidelity, fashionable careless- ness, and, in the menilela5ses, benighted superstition, the remnants of Fetish worship and Obi incantations, were compounded into a mixture that would have daunted hearts lessistout, and faith less vigorous than those of the devoted band, who were, emphatically, home missionaries. It was an event, pregnant with interest to those conversant with the religious, or irreligious history of the neighbor- hood, when a session of Presbytery was convened to ordain and ihtsth a pastor, over the whilome deserted church of Deep Run. There was to be a meeting of several days' duration; and those who acknowledged no special personal concern in such things, were yet ready to accept of the novel entertainment, promised by the arrangements going forward. The'services commenced on Saturday. Farm-work was sus-' pended, andfall classes, in their gala attire,' thronged the road to the sanctuary..- -It was the same small wooden-- building that had '-"' N E M Es I S, 16 been erected in the late Mr. Argyle's time ; but it had recently undergone thorough repairs, and-a bold innovation upon the usages of the day-it was painted within and without. Nay more; upon the desk, heretofore a brown, naked board, was a crimson damask cushion, supporting a new Bible! The like had not been witnessed in the county by the oldest man there. Booths, thatched with green boughs, surrounded the house, and the crowd that filled them, proved the wisdom of this provident contrivance for church extension. The ceremonies of the occa- sion, solemn in their simplicity, were performed. amidst a stillness profound, and' apparently respectful, and the sermon heard as attentively. The congregation broke up for intermission, and a lively scene ensued. By a sort of natural gravitation, the divided members of each household sought a common centre, and groups of rela- tives and friends were prbsently scattered through the woods inclosing the church, dispensing and receiving .the bountiful lun- cheons they had brought from home. Tables of primitive con struction-rough boards, supported by forked stakes, were erected in a few minutes, and their imperfections concealed by snowy cloths. The edibles were set inharray by the zealous and pra- tised servants; and, behold a meal that an epicure might have envied, and a dining-hall, unsurpassed by kingly saloon "I ordered that our table should be joined to Malcolm's,- said a lady, conspicuous, even in the large crowd, for her, fine bearing and elegant attire. She spoke to an elderly woman, low in stature and plainly dressed, with an enormous black bonnet on, who was superintending the unpacking of some hampers. "Very well -" was the curt reply. "I wish the dinner to be arranged as neatly as possible," con- tinued the lady, "forwe have some friends with us-a friend rather--who is accustomed to the best of everything." A sniff from the cavernous recesses of the bonnet,.and a con- 8 page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 NEM ESIS. temptuous heave of the article itself, replied. The little woman's face was invisible. "Malcolm! Malcolm I step this way, one moment, if you please!" cried the lady, excitedly, as Mr. Argyle approached with several other gentlemen. With an apology, he left them at the board, and withdrew some paces with his sister. "Miss- Rasheigh and her governess are to dine with us to-day, and I thought you would oblige Mr. Moreau and myself so far, as to pay them some attention. Being strangers in the county, they will appreciate a kindness of that sort. Here they come, with Mr. Moreau. My dear!" stepping forward to meet him-- "- where have you been? I began to fear that you had lost these ladies.." Mr. Argyle resisted the impulse to refuse his sister's request, and awaited, with outward equanimity, her return and the threatened introduction. Meanwhile, his eye discerned nothing especially attractive in the strangers. They were a young -girl, rosy-cheeked and black-eyed, with an arch expression on a pretty little- mouth, and a lady, much older, dressed in black, with features that were certainly not handsome, although indicative of amiability and intelligence. "Miss Rasheigh, let me make you acquainted with my brother, Mr. Argyle. Mrs. Holt-Mr. Argyle," said Mrs. Moreau, with . infinite---uavity, and, polished woman of the world though she was, betraying her anxiety that the introduction should be mutnally agreeable. The: prospect of its improvement upon the mere introduction - was poor. Mr. Argyle bowed, withoutunclosing his firm lips, and the ladies, courtesying, looked at the ground, not at him. ' . "I hope your friends will be well attended to, Eleanor. Please regard the whole'of this table as your own." X And, having thus eased his conscience, and fulfilled the dictates NE M E 8 I S . - 1 of politeness, Mr. Argyle bowed again, and rejoined the company he himself had brought hither. Mrs. Moreau'sbrunette com- plexion took a warmer tinge from vexation, and her. husband shrugged his shoulders, in comical despair, as, he met her eye. Then, they devoted themselves to the comfort of their guests, as if to compensate for the neglect of him who should have been master of ceremonies. Miss Rasheigh nor her governess appeared in the least mindful of, or discomposed by, his want of gallantry. The latter discussed her luncheon and talked quietly, at intervals, with her hosts; the former gazed upon the scene with the pleased curiosity of one to whom it was new and strikine. "It appears quite barbarous to you, I dare say," remarked Mrs. Moreau, noticing the wonder that deprived her of appetite. "You never saw anything like it before?" - "Never. But I like it 1" emphatically. "Such gatherings are infrequent here. In fact, they are usually confined to the lower classes ; but there are two or-three influential gentlemen in this immediate neighborhood, who have taken up the cause of -the Dissenters " "I thought there was no Established Church in the United States," interrupted AMiss Rasheigh. Eleanor colored at this rebuff of her delicate design-to employ a term that would best convey her meaning, andilikewise, her sympathy with what she imagined were her companion's prejudices. "There is not, strictly speaking. The word slipped' out. unawares. The best families in Virginia are descended, for the most part, from those who were in Communion with the Estab- lishments of England and Scotland. Other denominations are comparatively a new thing. Recently, however, as- I wa saying , they have grown into popular favor, and the sect. represented here to-day is really becoming respectable in :the quality and in the quantity of its members. And it is well enoagh 1. .The masses need a religion: that. they can understand, to elevate them, t page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 N EME'S IS. and if their betters take the lead, they are the more apt to follow. There is "my brother, for example--who, acting upon this belief, has exerted himself in repairing the old church, and settling a regular clergyman. Yet he is not a 'professor of religion,' as their phrase is. Sanguine as the enthusiasts are of 'bringing him over,' we, who understand him, see that he is actuated only by a desire for the moral improvement of the people." "A commendable instance of public spirit!" smiled the young lady. Mrs. Moreau was at a loss to know whether there was, or was not a spice of sarcasm in her tone. A second's meditation showed her the improbability of the suspicion, and she went on: "Moreover, he is one of the most affectionate men alive, dis- tant as he seems in general society; and his old housekeeper-the nurse of us all-is greatly attached to her church. He spares no trouble or expense to humor her whims, and I must say, she is fond of him, poor creature I in her odd way, and manages his household wonderfully well. That is she I the queer, dwarfish figure, pouring out a glass of water for him. Would you not think, from his smile and bow, that she was a countess?" "Queen Mab, perhaps, somewhat advanced in years," returned Miss Rasheigh ; and if she remarked how becoming was that smile to the, proud, grave features of the lauded " brother," his sister was none the wiser for it. "Mr. Laidley wishes to pay his respects to you, Eleanor," said Mr. Argyle, coming up to the Moreaus' end of the table. ? And, fearing lest I might not be recognized, I solicited your ! brother's good offices to make me known," subjoined that gentle- man. "It has -been many years since I had the pleasure of meeting you, madam. May I ask you to present me to Mr. Moreau?" I: His benevolent countenance and pleasant voice were an instant X recommendation to Miss Rasheigh's favor. Her expressive eyes : ]Ht N E X EIS. 173 said this so plainly, that Eleanor did not hesitate to introduce him to her also. He looked earnestly at her, as if he wished to engage her in conversation ; but the bustle of another approach and recognition separated them. "Why, there is Marcia Carrington!" exclaimed Eleanor, as a gaily-dressed lady came eagerly toward her. Mr. Argyle stood accidentally next to Miss Rasheigh, and she felt him start and move, as if to go away. He changed his pur- pose, however, and stood his ground. "My dear Eleanor!" cried the new-comer, kissing Mrs. Moreau affectionately ; "I am glad to see you looking so young and well! How are you, Mr. Moreau? Mr. Argyle "-blishine as he bowed instead of shaking hands, as she evidently expected him to do. "How natural everything and everybody-seems I and I have not been home before for five years I How are your, children, Eleanor? I have three of mine here with me, to-day; I never stir without them." Eleanor took advantage of her pause, to name her stranger- guests. Miss Rasheigh touched her governess's arm, when-the dialogue between the friends was resumed; and, Mr. Moreau, being also engaged in talk with other acquaintances, the two left the group unperceived. A footman, English in face and dress, obeyed a -motion from the younger lady, and followed them:. "Why, Mr. Moreau !" said his wife, presently, breaking off in the flow of inquiries 'and answers, " where are Miss Rasheigh and Mrs. Holt?" "I don't know, I am sure, my dear," replied he, looking about him, as Bopeep might have done, when her sheep werevll a- fleeting," - "Do go, and look for them I I should never forgive 'myself, if they were to feel slighted, or if anything were to: happen to them. They know nobody here, except durselves." page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] N EM E SI I S,! "Who are they?': asked Mrs. Carrington, as Mr. Moreau went meekly on his hunt. "Haven't you heard of them? Mr. Moreau's English rela- tives, who have bought Briarwood?" "Oh, yes I Ma was telling me about them, and of Cousin Nancy's ingratitude in accepting the place of housekeeper- stewardess, she calls it-after all that ma has done for her--and only because this Mr. " "Colonel Rasheigh," corrected Eleanor.-- "Colonel, then, offered such a high salary for a competent manager I Mrs. Rasheigh is too fine a lady, I hear, to attend to domestic affairs." "Colonel Rasheigh is Mr. Moreau's uncle 1" said Eleanor, so dignifiedly, that her insensitive friend could not but take the hint. "Is he? I beg your pardon for speaking so freely. After all, there is no dependence to be put in reports. I often tell Mr. Carrington that I do not believe one half of what I hear. I have my hands so full of my own business-servants and babies, and all that, that I have precious little time for, scandaln "As I was saying," continued Mrs. Moreau, in the old Eleanor Argyle manner, " one of the principal reasons whickr Colonel Rasheigh had for settling in Virginia-in America, indeed-was, that he might be near his nephew. Mr. Moreau is the son of the colonel's sister, whose marriage with a Frenchman and subse- quent emigration so displeased her family, that, for many years, they refused to hold any communication with her. About three years ago, Mr. Moreau, as her only surviving son, received a letter from his. uncle, asking information respecting himself and family, and since then, they have kept up a constant correspon- dence t We have often entreated the old gentleman to come out to this country for having no son of his own, he appears to feel that his nephew is the stay of his house. So, last fall, he com- missioned Mr. Moreau to purchase Brierwood-we having written N EM ES I S. to him a description of the place, and that it was for sale-and they took possession, this spring.-" "He is very wealthy, I suppose," said Marcia. Matrimony had not tended to alter the prosaic turn of her character. She was still literal and material as ever. "So it is believed," answered Eleanor, with cautious signifi- cancy. His establishment is extremely handsome, and his ex- penditures lavish. Then his wife and daughter have the air of people who have always moved in the highest circles." "That was Mrs. Rasheigh here, just now--was it not?" Eleanor looked provoked. "No, indeed I only the governess -a nice sort of person, but a mere nobody. Mrs. Rasheigh must have been very beautiful in her youth. She is tall and dignified-almost too stately; pale, and rather reserved in man- ner. Her health has not been good for a long while. Colonel Rasheigh hopes that the change of climate may be beneficial to her. He is her senior by twenty years or more, and seems devotedly attached to her." "Certainly-of course!"Mrs. Carrington assented, abstractedly. She was looking quite away from the speaker, whose discourse was more entertaining to herself than to any one else, outside the pale of family interests. "Your brother has changed a great deal since I last saw him," she observed, casually, not at all like one who had any special concern in him or his looks. "In what respect?V' asked Eleanor, coolly. "He has grown older and has a grave-I was about to say, a stern air." "The natural consequence of increase of years and responsi- bility," Mrs. Moreau replied, yet more frigidly. "He is, con- tented, happy and useful. His warmest friends could ask for nothing better for him. We-his relations-beg him to marry for the sake of the name and estate; but he laughs at the idea of resigning the liberty .that he loves." page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 NEME S I S. And having, as she flattered herself, inflicted a wound in the self-love of her dear friend, she proposed a return to the church. Miss Rasheigh's ramble with her governess soon led them out of the temporary encampment. Beyond the wooded hill, that' -formed the site of the church, was another--higher, and crowned with luxuriant pines. On its summit, protected -by a rampart of these sturdy evergreens, was a circular clearing, and in its -centre was a small inclosure, bounded by a white paling. "It is a grave!" said Miss Rasheigh, in a whisper of intense awe, checking herself within a few feet of the spot. Her large eyes were raised mournfully to her companion, and her blooming cheek faded. "So I suppose, my dear," returned Mrs. Holt, soothingly. "There is nothing in the circumstance to alarm or astonish you. It is near the church, and is a lovely situation for ' the house appointed to all the living.' Is there a headstone?" The girl approached with her, and read aloud the inscription: - "MARK HATLE, OBIT. FEB'Y XI., MDOCXCIX. -JETAT. XXVII. ' There remalneth therefore a reat for the people of God.'" There was a hush of some minutes. Both ladies remained gazing, spell-bound by some indefinable attraction, upon the mound and its simple memorial-stone. Was it the wish of the sleeper to be buried here.? Did his young head lie more softly upon the pillow, with the lulling pines for sentinels, and the dew and sun- shine falling freely upon his green coverlet? Whose loving hand had laid out the mystic circle for his :last chamber?-had,- for tw'elve years, renewed the earth and turf, and the railing that for- ( N E M E 81 . - 1" bade the. intrusion of a stranger foot? What heart, crushed by his untimely death, had sought solace in the pious offices? "Twenty-seven!" In that short life, had sorrow or toil taught himn the value of eternal " rest?" "It was very solemn-very sad!" thought Miss Rasheigh, with a pained heart. Had she been alone, she could have wept. No cemetery, crowded with the insignia of mortality, had ever made her feel the nothingness of life-the certainty of death-as: did this forest grave. "He was a son-or a brother-a husband--perhaps even -a father!" she mused aloud. "It is a beautiful world 1" Her gaze sought the rich, blue sky, and she drew a long inspiration of the fresh air, aromatic with the scent of the pines. "A beauti- fil world-but there are broken hearts and graves everywhere I -everywhere!" ".'Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood' " quoted Mrs. Holt. Something of her accustomed archness came back to Miss Rasheigh's countenance. "This is Saturday--not Sunday, Mrs. Holt, and, as I am not a Jewess, I shall not return to the synagogue over there ; I mean to sit me down upon the grass here, in Nature's temple, and let her preach to me until it is time to go home." "My dear I you are not in eairnest!" "Indeed I am, ma'am I Listen to the song of the pines I They speak of solemn and beautiful things to me. Stay with me and hear them, anOd look up to this blue canopy above us, and the white clouds sailing over it, like angel-fleets I It will do you more good than a sermon of man's devising." The governess was seriously perplexed. Her pupil was :capa- ble of carrying out her freak, if only through sheer willfulness. 8* page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] *178 N EM E S I S. Remonstrance might confirm her in the notion, and it was not Mrs. Holt's way to command, if persuasioni could avail to gain her purpose. What would the Moreaus feel and think and say? And Colonel Rasheigh-the pink of propriety-what his Judgment would be, if this infringement of established custom reached his ears, she could imagine, but not brave. "Surely, my love "-- She had advanced these three words in the delicate piece of diplomacy she meditated; when help arrived from another quarter. The, crackling of dry sticks, under footsteps ascending the hill, startled Miss. Rasheigh from the seat she had chosen. "Our- sanctuary is invaded l" she said, hurriedly. "We wmill go, i, Casting a parting glance of pity and curiosity on thegrave, she turned away; but not until two gentlemen stepped within the circle. Thleywere Mr. Argyle and Mr. Laidley. The elder gentle- man leaned upon the arm of the other, and stopped on the edge of Ithe clearing to regain breath, after the steep ascent. Both ! faisedtheir hats, to the ladies, without speaking, and received as silent acknowledgments of the courtesy. Mr. Laidley spoke, in --a subdued voice, yet one that was heard distinctly by the re- tiring-visitorS: ' -- "And you buried him here'! I could say,' God bless you for it" ' I : "-,"' ' 'i ; 2 *- s a,ii , . A... ............ i . . . . . , B . ,! NEMEsIs. 179 CHAPTER XYV. Cc N,0EL RASHTICGH read English news, of a month before, that evening; two silver candlesticks at one elbow; his gold snuff. box open upon the shelf attached to the other arm of his great chair. The Briarwood establishment was but a couple of-weeks old, and all went on, as if two years ago, or twenty, had beheld its organization. Acting, unconsciously, upon the principle gar- deners regard in transplantation, the master of the household had brought along as much of England, as he could, to the new world. His own man, Mrs. Rasheigh's maid and Miss Rash- leigh's governess, a coachman and a footman were imported, with much of the furniture belonging to his former home. How the exotic system, he aimed to ingraft upon American and Southern society, would work, was yet to be proved. He certainly looked comfortable enough :now. The room was fitted up with library furniture, oaken and massive, and darkened by time ; high-backied chairs, with seats of leather or tapetry ; heavy curtains, summer though it was ; and book-cases filled with ' many venerable, and some modern volumes. The colonel him. self was a portly figure, with a florid complexion and white hair, sitting and standing very uprightly, and marked in every linea- ment and motion, as a man used to his peculiar way of thinking and doing, and whose confident expectation was that the insigni- ficant remainder of mankind should think and act like him, Eleanor's description of Mrs. Rasheigh's personelk did credit to her powers as a liner. She occupied a chair on the other side page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 NEME SI . of the table, and a book lay in her lap, which had not been opened during the half-hour she had sat there. Her small, slight hands were crossed in listlessness or langour-so still, that the lace ruffles bordering her wrists did not quiver. She wore her natural hair--abundant still, its many silver threads showing brightly amidst its original blackness. Color and flesh would have been to her the gift of beauty, by obliterating the lines that commemorated the ravages of ill-health or scathing griefs. Her paleness was unnatural, we had almost, said unearthly ; and- the dusky eye reminded the observer of an extinct volcano. "Margaret I where is Katherine?" inquired the Colonel, low- ering his paper. "She went to her room after tea. Shall I send for her?" Her motion toward a hand-bell, that stood between them, was arrested by a gliding step in the passage, and the appearance of the daughter. She entered quickly and lightly, without bustle or stiffness, and the dim, stately room seemed brightened by her pre- sence. Mrs. Holt followed, netting in hand, and- seated herself at a respectful- distance' from the light. Not so the petted child of the household. She had also her netting-box, and establishing herself on her father's wide, footstool, she plied the tiny ivory shuttle diligently, for the space of fully three minutes and a half. "Mrs.- Holt," , she said then, softly, as desiring not to disturb the august reader, "does not this very fine lace-work hurt your eyes by eandlelight? It does mine." !"You look at it more fixedly than is necessary, perhaps," said the governess. "What. did you say about. your eyes?" demanded Colonel Rasheigh. "That is very improper work for the evening, Katherine. Are vou pressed for time? You had better put it aside for daylight. It displeases me to see you trifle with your sight in that absurd manner." "I am making lae for my wedding-dress, papa," and the fin- NE M E S I S. 181 gers went faster than before. "That thought, if not the work, keeps me awake while you are reading that endless newspaper. I felt as if my evil genius had chased me across the water, when I saw you tear off the cover this afternoon. The grim, finely- printed columns looked so frightfully familiar." "You are an unreasonable child!" But his accent and invo- luntary smile overcame any impression of rebuke conveyed by the words. There was a whole page still untravelled by his specta- cles; yet he deliberately folded the sheet and laid it-away under a heavy book upon the table. With an alacrity that cast a shade of doubt- upon the reality of her recent industrious fit, Kaftherine shut up her work-box and placed it beside her ancient enemy. "Now ]" she said, looking up at the Colonel, whose air was marvellously benignant, considering the mighty sacrifice he had just made. I " And now!" he echoed, making an effort to appear grave: I "Have you nothing to say for -my amusement? Will the history i of your day's entertainment console me for the loss of my paper?" "Doubtful!" She shook her head in assumed anxiety. "I I will do my best, however., You heard me telling mamma at the I tea-table about the religious services-the ordination?" I "Yes ; but you said then that the events between the sermons were of a remarkable"character. I understood you to make an observation to that effect." "You are right, sir. We had'a veritable gipsy encampment under the trees; only gipsies do not have a superabundance of- exquisitely-cooked viands, spread upon damask by attendant-Afri- cans; nor do they sip wine from cut-glass, and eat roast chicken from china plates. Mrs. Moreau, whose attentions-were unceas- ing, invited us to dine with her, and, when we were expecting to be handed to our carriage, to accompany her home, Mr. Moreau escorted us up to one- of these fairy-like banquets."e page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 N E E S I 8. "I doubt, my dear, if your simile is altogether just," inter- posed Mrs. Holt. "The food you have described would be more unsuitable upon Titania's board than in a gipsy camp. You re- member the dainties she enumerates to Bottom : ' Apricocks and dewherries; With purple grapes, green figs and mulberries. " "Modern elves are more substantial in taste," replied Katherine, merrily. "Did not I enjoy the fare I have eulogized, and did not Mr. Moreau-my ' cousin Robert,' as he insists I shall call him-tell me that I was a wood-fairy? "What!" said Colonel Rasheigh, frowning slightly ; for his ideas upon certain points were strict. "He is disposed to be complimentary upon a short acquaintance." "He meant to be polite, I suppose, papa; but he looked almost vexed when, after an ineffectual hunt of half an hour for us, we emerged from the forest, directly across his path." "The forest I Were you -unattended?" "O no, sir 1 Thomas was with us." "Very proper, I should be displeased to learn that you went without him. Go on with your narrative." - "Where was I? I recollect I at the table. 'The first dish was an introduction to his grace, the Duke." "Whom?" Mrs. Rasheigh had not spoken until now. "To; Malcolm Argyle, Lord of Ben Lomond and the adjacent territory, who graciously consented that we should be presented then and:there, the occasion warranting a deviation from- the ordinary rules of court etiquette; and vouchsafed the additional honor of an invitation through his sister, to dine at the royal board.' - "My dear Miss Rasheigh," said-- the conscientious governess, "you are disposed to be severe to-night. Mr, Argyle appeared H NEMXE8ISN. 83I to me to be a handsome gentleman, of courtly presence it is true, rather taciturn, perhaps, but I must confess that I detected nothing offensive in his deportment. On the contrary, I thought his conduct, and the two sentences L. heard him utter, graceful and proper," Like Colonel Rasheigh, Mrs. Holt considered the concluding epithet the acme of praise when applied to behavior. "I do not dispute his comeliness," said Kktherine. "His features were cast in a regular mould. He evidently considers that nature, having done her work thoroughly, can dispense with any aid from him. Yet, there are degrees of perfection, and: a smile heightens the beauty of this Adonis; such a gleam as-I saw him bestow upon his familiar-a species of 'Brownie? who presides over his household, and ministers to his physical-wants- in other words, an elfish little woman, protected from -sun, rain, and general observation by a hat, that I venture to declare, i;. the identical pattern of that worn by Virginia Dare's mother." "Virginia Dare I I do not remember such a person," said the Colonel. "The first white infant born in these American colonies,' exclaimed Katherine, blushinm for her. foolish 'speeCh. "To return to the Earl Maicolm-I am-, positive that I did not see him smile or unbend his gravity,- except in this one instance. ,You must have noticed, Mrs. Holt, how haughtily he -received Mrs. ', I forget, her name-the lady whom Mrs. Moreau addressed as Marcia, and was-so glad to meet. She was an old friend, I gathered from. what she said, an- early playpiate, who had married and removed to a distance. She said that she had not been 'home, -before, in five years: Yet Mr. Argyle did not shake hands with. her, when hers 'was: partly extended to fmeet his. No iceberg could have been more cold and repellant? " ie deserves our compassion,' said Mrs, Basheighr;drily . "Why?'t asked hier daughter. . page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 NEMESIS. "Because of his failure to gain your good will." It was seldom that a sentence savoring of irony escaped the lady's lips, and Katherine felt the merited reproof keenly. For an instant, she struggled with the rising temper or shame that suffused her eyes ; then, in a victory, that did honor to her nature or teaching, replied ingenuously : "I beg your pardon, mamma, and thank you for checking me. My strictures were ill-natured, and probably unjust. My spirits run away with my sense of right entirely too often. , But a--the cloud passing as suddenly as it had fallen--" to atone for my thoughtless fault, I will praise everything and everybody else, until my story is over--an easy task, where there is nothing to blame. Mrs. Holt, I have a bad memory for names. How did Mrs. Moreau call the minister who preached the second sermon? She recognized an old acquaintance in him, and introduced him to us at luncheon.". "Mr. Laidley," prompted the governess. "O yes I I really fell in love with him, and I liked his dis- course too. There was an irresistible sweetness and sincerity in his look- and manner. Did you not think his voice very melodious for one of his age? It did not break or quaver, all the while he was preaching, and in singing, it was yet more wonderful. You must have distinguished it-we sat so near the pulpit. I was sorry to hear Mrs. Moreau say, that he resided some distance away. He seldom visits this part of the country now, she told me but this being an extraordinary occasion, some' of his admirers-her brother among them-wrote him an urgent request for his attendance." "You considered him an eloquent orator--did you, Mrs. Holt?" said the Colonel, more formally than he had spoken with his daughter. "His sermon was good, sir ; unexceptionable, as to its logic and morals. It was more hortatory in its character than I have N EM'E S I S. 185 been used to hear, and his nanner, while it did not offend a refined taste, was warmer than a clergyman of the church would have adopted 'on such an occasion. Nevertheless, Miss Rash- leigh's picture is a true one. He reminded me vividly of Cowper's model divine: ' His theme-divine; His office sacred, his credentials clear, By him, the violated law speaks out Its thunders, and by him, in strains as sweet As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace.'" With all her respect for her instructress, Katherine had a nervous dread of her mania for quotations. Foreseeing a com- panion portrait to the above, from some other esteemed author, she addressed herself hastily to her mother. "Mamma, we had an adventure-made a discovery this noon, that saddened and interested us. As I have said, we tired of the crowd, and rambled off into the wild, beautiful woods that sur- rounded the church. There is a group of tall grand pinesquite away from the house-a quarter of a mile, I should say. Is it not, Mrs. Holt?" "Scarcely half so far, my dear Miss Rasheigh. Yet it is difficult to judge of distance, where the ground is so uneven. We climbed a hill, you remember." "Yes, madam. And on the top, mamma, there was a circle where no trees grew, and there we found a solitary grave; not neglected and overgrown, as if a forgotten stranger were buried there, but neatly railed in, and the turf was clipped carefully. I meant to have qinquired of Mrs. Moreau concerning its history, but the bustle after church drove it out of my mind." "That it was cared for at all is remarkable," observed the Colonel. "The general neglect of burying-groundsin this country displeases me exceedingly. There are duties to the, dead, /as well page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 NE M E 8 I S. as to the-living. I was absolutely shocked at the condition of the graveyard attached to this plantation. Not a tombstone in the whole of it!" "There was a headstone to the one I speak of," said Kathe- rine, " and although an unpretending, by no means a rude affair. The inscription was in keeping with it." Her voice sank as she repeated it. " 'Mark Hale. - Died February 11, 1799. Aged 27. There remaineth therefore a rest for the people of God.' " The governess chanced to cast her eye toward Mrs. Rasheigh, and she alone noticed the sudden clasping of the taper fingers; the sallow, greenish hue, that overspread the always pallid cheek. The eyes closed, and the brows met in a spasm, deadly in its agony, yet so brief that when the astounded looker-on recovered from the paralysis of faculties, never rash in their impulses, the lady sat, as she had done, throughout the rest of their conver- sation--impassive, indifferent-the impersonation of languor.. Colonel Rasheigh yawned behind his hand, and stole a look at the unfinished newspaper; which said as openly as words could have done, that the topic was becoming dull to him. He was not romantic himself. His mental and physical conformations resem- bled each other in heaviness. He condescended to be amused by his daughter, because she was his, and possessed a larger propor- tion of his genuine affection than any other creature alive, except- ing his wife. -Mrrs. Holt was not backward to take the hint. "The day-had been- fatiguing one," she soon discovered, " and the nights were grwing shorter.- With Mrs. Rasheigh's permission, she would retire. And, if she might take the liberty, in her parents' pre- sence, she Wvould recommend a similar course to Miss Rasheigh." Mrs. Rasheigh consented to her withdrawal, and ratified her counsel to her pupil by a bend of the head. The Colonel invari- ably sat up late ; why, no one knew, except that it-had been/his :habit from his youth, and he abhorred -any departure from ancient NEM E SIS. 187 customs. So, when Katherine saw him-unfold the neglected periodical, and repolish -his spectacles, she arose, with an inaudible sigh, and kissed her parents "Good night." "'You are pale, mamma i shAe said, surprised at the- chill touch of her lips. "Do you feel unwell?" "No. The warm weather tries my strength. I shall soon: become accustomed to it." I Colonel Rasheigh rang the bell, and when her maid appeared, gave Mrs. Rasheigh his arm to her chamber door. There- he left her, and returning to the library, summoned his man,- and sent him up to his mistress with a glass of old wine, which he selected and poured out with his own hands. If he was sparing of verbal expressions of fondness, his scrupulous attention to her wants and extreme respect for her person and opinions, bore out Eleanor's assertion of his attachment to his wife. It was too early for Katherine to sleep, and the loveliness of the May night lured her to the window. It was- very calm and bright-a still, fragrant hour. -The young girl crossed her arms on the window-seat and-leaned out-her face sadly changed from the joyous air she had worn below stairs. She was very lonely- hearted--this favorite of fortune--desolate, with the yearning desolation that wails unceasingly through the empty "Innermost of the soul, for love 1 fullness of love! It was a coarse, cruel sneer-unworthy of one of England's greatest artists-when he said, that "a woman had rather be courted and jilted, than never to be courted at all." Another, whom the alchemy of sorrow' had tested and purified, has brought out from this rough, stone the lustre of a truth, as universals as beautiful: "Better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all." It is easy, or it would not be so common, for those who bhave page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 , N f t E S I S . learned by years of enforced abstemiousness, a negative content with the crusts and crumbs of affection that fall to their share, to speak contemptuously of the "mawkish fancies," the "puling sentimentality" of their earlier days. Such hearts may clap their lean hands in mirthless laughter, or point witheringly, as at children, chasing painted bubbles, when the young press and strive hotly for the prize that hangs " highest and most daz- zlingly upon the horizon " of each. There are even those-sorrow- fully we write it-whose agonized prayer in their own spirit-need, the loving Father heard and answered bountifully, who, now, accustomed to the luxury of full hearts and happy homes, forget former privations, and chide with wonderment, instead of pitying the expression of like necessities in others. There is a heartless- we would fain deem it a thoughtless-otherwise, it is a base, unworthy cant on this subject, affected by people in middle life, which is either softened by the approach of second childhood, or embittered into malignity by old age. "Old people know young people to be fools." "They go through love-fits along with the measles' and whooping-cough." "Young hearts are none the worse for fifty fractures." "It is only a turn of puppy-love, which he will outgrow." Such are the elegant and humane adages, that epitomize the wisdom of the sect. O, woe I woe I to the mother, who, serene Ain a happiness; strengthened, while it is tempered by Time, fails to sympathize with the crimsoned cheek, the fluttering heart, the sileent tear, that betray a daughter's initiation into the lore, which was once the food - of her thoughts through anxious nights and days of deep, yet troubled joy. Why not -teach our children that the' friendships and loves, seen rich and warm, with the early summer glow upon them, are but the foretaste of the divine, all- pervading sentiment, which God would have His immortal crea- tures know? Have you ever thought-you, who hold that a fit preparation for "Life's realities" (a term hateful as trite!) is . . NEMESIS. 189 a mastery of the judgment over the heart; a thorough subjuga- tion of impetuosity to common sense; an unroofing and under- mining and explosion and pulverization, to the last atom, of the castles, which children and youths will erect, with only air for foundation and superstructure; you, who would drug into insen- sibility, the generous impulse and ardent devotion- of hearts, whose veins run red, fast, young blood, as the Creator wills they shall; have you ever thought, we ask, of the meaning, of that text, "If a man love not his brother, whom he hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not seen?" How shall we, in the Heaven of love, practise what we are making it the study of our lives to unlearn? Katherine Rasheigh was essentially healthyin mind and body. Hers was a brave, buoyant spirit, that would have laughed to scorn sickly fancies and imaginary woes. And, precisely because it was sound and strong, it craved its naturaI food and rightful companionship, The lark remembers, at its highest flight, its nest in the grass, and the eagle, proud voyager of the empyrean, is never, from choice, a mateless bird. Circumstances, not her inclination, had ordained that this girl, with a large, warm heart, sympathies ready and keen-should qever, within her recollection, have had a bosom friend; that there should not be, for her, in the world, a breast upon which she could cast herself in sudden joy or sorrow; not a biting to whom she could say, in the frank heartiness of affection--"I love you!" She had indistinct memories, like floating dreams, of a time when their household atmosphere-was different from what it now was; heard, in the Past, faint echoes of fond names and endear- ing phrases bestowed upon herself; but these were :vision that dissolved into mist, when she would have examined them more nearly. She loved the father, whose s6le amusement ,she was. She could not but perceive his partialityvfor, and pride in her, and he seldom, if ever, denied her expressed wishes if their objects were page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 N E: XMS I s. procurable by his means. But he was painfully formal, and as regarded feeling, absolutely undemonstrative. Like a leaden Saturn, he revolved slowly, bearing his satellites along in his grey, sunless orbit. Mrs. Holt was --kind-hearted, and faithful in the performance of her duty to her pupil, to whom years of association had made her society and advice indispensable ; but there was no inherent congeniality, not one symptom of elective affinity between their dispositions. The one was pedantic, cautious, and a devotee to rule and custom on all points ; the other, a genuine democrat, claiming liberty of thought, language and act. Many zealous and fruitless attempts had Mrs. Holt made to reform, according to rectilinear principles, the free curves of a character that gained her affection, while to manage it baffled her skill. Mrs. Rasheigh had been an invalid from her daughter's sixth year ; never very ill; never complaining, yet always pale and feeble, and the cause of solicitude to her friends and compassion among her acquaint- ances. -Not a compassion that implied -a failure of respect toward its object. The dignity, approaching to severity, that- bchriacterized:the lady's countenance and depoartment, the sound judgment and strict observation manifest in whatever she said, inspired a feeling akin to awe, even in her admirers. The - society chosen and attracted byisuch a nucleus, could not be extensive or brilliant. To the young-daughter it was stupid beyond comparison, and she gladly welcomed the proposed re- moval to another continent, as a promise of a more eventful and less -hackneyed life. For a while, the novelty and excitement incident to the change of country, had, by keeping her fancy in play, silenced the old, homesick: yearning, but to-night it found her ofl her guard, and resumed possession. "Everybody besides me has some one to love, and by whom he is loved," she said, in her repining heart. ' That haughty man I saw to-day has a faithful follower, who adores him, and nobody ever looks at me as- he did at her. She is called old and homely i NE M-ES I S;., * 191 i and poor ; I, young, pretty and wealthy; yet she is the richer of the two. And that lonely sleeper under the pines I Through the heat of a dozen summers and the cold of a dozen winters, the: hand of love has tended his burial-place. Who, that lives, would I weep a dozen days for me? .Is this to: last always?" In- a petulant despair, she struck her" bosom with her clenched hand. I "Why cannot I kill my heart and seem-yes I be like those around me " - The tree-tops scarcely moved in the still air ; yet a sound, like the distant breath of the wind through the hall, caught her ear. It was repeated, and, with a tremor she could not explain, she approached the door and listened. It came. once more-a moan --a shuddering sigh, that was human in its tone and anguish. Lest, another repetition should deprive her of the courage to seek out its origin, she stepped noiselessly into the long corridor, dark, but - for a glimmer of moonbeams at the further end, and a streak of light under the door next her own. It was her mother's dressing- room;, and when after a second's waiting, she traced the unusuat I sound to this, filial apprehension supplanted the superstitious dread that had begun to take hold of her. Her hesitating tap wau: unanswered, and she opened the door. . It was a small apartment, adjoining Mrs. Rasheigh's chamber, and plainly, almost meanly fitted up, as she had directed. It con- tained a toilet-table, a oudple of chairs and a large, blue chest, bound with iron, and bearing the marks of long and rough usage. The top of this was raised, and Mrs. Rasheigh knelt before it, her back to the outer entrance. She wore her nightdress, and her loosened hair rolled in gloomy volumes on her shoulders, Katherine could neither see her face nor the contents of-the trunk; only that the crouching figure clasped something-some article -of apparel, it seemed-to -her bosomx and wept over:it; 4the :plan tive, heart-piercing moan that had reached her- chamber,. U.11-this was the observation of an instant. No mortal intrusion was per-. page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 NEMESIS. missible in such a scene. Katherine, had stepped back into the passage, and was drawing the door softly after her, when the moaning became brokenly articulate. a My husband! lMy husband 1" This was what the involu{ntary listener believed that she heard, as she left the weeper alone with her midnight grief. l N E E S I S.' 193 CHAPTER XV. BEN LOMOND had its quota of clerical guests, that Saturday night. It was near the clurcli, and had been the wayside resting- place of their profession for a generation back. Miss Barbara's notable housewifery secured their outward comfort, and the society of the present master was more to the taste of men of their intellectual and moral stamp than his father's had ever proved. The hospitable host at table ; the social companion, as they sat over their pipes in the evening ; the profound thinker and erudite scholar in their graver conversation, he had an honor- -able place in the estimation of each. Mr. Laidley, as the oldest minister present, led in evening worship, and failed not to commend to the God of the sainted mother, the son, who was now the head of the family, and to whom the church she loved, looked, with eager concern, to fulfill her wishes in behalf of this portion of the Lord's vineyard. Malcolm had seen the last of the company to his chamber, and was moodily pacing the great drawing-room, when a dry cough announced Miss Barbara. - "What is it?" said he, checking his march. "Thought, maybe, you wanted something'. "Nothing, I thank you." He recommenced his walk. j Miss:Barbara snuffed the candles ; collected the pipes into the tobacco-box; brushed the ashes from the table, and pushed the chairs into order against the wainscot. ' I ' , page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 E M ES I S'. That will do, I think," said Malcolm, finally, as impatiently, as he ever addressed her. "Ain't you, tired? Do sit down 1" replied she, wheeling around an easy chair. "i am tired--and that is why I prefer Wilking." "Jest like a man I the more he needs comfort, the more he won't take it!" "That matters little, provided he does not interfere with the comfort of others," rejoined Malcolm, smiling sadly. "Do I trouble you, Aunt Bab?" ( ,You do -that! the livelong time 1" she broke forth, dropping into a chair, and heaving a deep breath. "Night and day I night and day! and all my prayer is, ' Lord! how long I how long I'" Malcolm stopped short, and gazed at her, dumb with astonish- ment. "And to-night, when that blessed man prayed that peace and prosperty might abide beneath this roof,' I could hardly keep from cryin' out, ' Let alone the prosperity, if so be the Lord will send the master peace in his soul and rest to his heart 1'" "I am grateful for your prayers, Aunt Bab," said Malcolm, gently. "Ifthey do not avail much in my behalf, they will bring down blessings upon your head, I trust." Miss Barbara made a gesture of despair. "Jest to hear him I when the greatest'blessin' I ask upon earth is to have my child back again. Oh, my boy! my boy 1" the tears raining downher withered cheeks; "I know you have had trials and troubles, hard to be borne. Your best friends, and your own flesh and blood have turned against you. The wicked have fou't with you, and prevailed; but it don't excuse you in the sight of 'God, for rejectiv' Hisa love, and hatin' your fellow-men. "Let me say my say. It's been a-gatheri' in my mind for years. I loved you when you was laid in my arms-a teeny baby.. So proud and glad E M E SI . . 195 we was, that a son was born. If I could ha' looked for'ard, and seen you what you are this day, I would ha' begged the Lord to take your little life then-yes I and thanked Him, if He had a-done it. Not that you ain't a comfort to me-not that you haven't done everythin' that a Master, without religion can do, for your servants. It's your duty to yourself that ain't attended to. Oh I when I remember the 'pretty laughin' boy--the merry, handsome, kind young /man, that had a word and a smile for everybody, and that everybody loved-and then see you-now, old before your time--cold and hard, -and offish to--yourold friends, and not carin' to make new ones ; unforgivin' to them as has wronged you, and never askin' the Almighty to forgive you and grant you another and a softer heart--is it a wonder-that my faith almost dies out?" She rocked to and fro, her head between her hands, her elbows on her knees. Malcolm's features underwent a variety of-changes during this unprecedented outflow of feeling.- Surprise and dis- pleasure at her boldness subsided into pitying affection, as- he drew near and leaned on the back of her chair. ' "You have surprised me, Aunt 'Bab. It is years sice the matters, to which you refer,: were mentioned between us: It was my wish that they should be forgotten, at any rate, by you." "Why not by you?" asked she, raising her head. "That is impossible.' "i Forgive and forget ' is the right rule." - "I profess to do neither 1 " * His blood was rising. He strode rapidly through the room twice, and returned to her. "I confess that I am the harsh, unlovable being you halve described. I shun the company of both men and women whom I have known from my youth up. I make no- distincteiinst en them and strangers. And why? IX:lefthome; the rusting, happy -boy ;' at peace with the world' arid those of-my own blood, page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] N E M E I S , X willing to believe all uncharitable thoughts I had ever indulged, unjust; ready to forgive the seeming wrong I could not explain away. Two years later, I came home to find that father and sister had leagued with the -basest of tools, to destroy an inno- cent man, to whom my obligations were boundless ; a pure, noble spirit, whose only crime was that he and his had saved my life, and that I loved them for it; to learn that your letters, which would have apprised me of .the villainous plot, had been inter- cepted. My father declared, on his death-bed, that this was done without his connivance. Heaven only knows the truth; but there were spies upon you, and who could they have been, if not the inmates of this very house I Was this the lesson which was to teach me to exercise faith in my fellow-man ? 'You cannot have forgotten the events that followed upon this discovery; my alienation from Eleanor; my defiance of my father; the prolonged and useless search for the wife and child of the murdered man. But I never told you that when I resigned the hope of discovering their retreat; when I accepted sullenly, the conviction that the poor compensation I might have made them, was denied me-I swore a solemn oath-' The Lord do so to me, and more also, if ever I forget or forgive one of the accomplices in this evil deed ' In one instance, and one alone, I have broken this vow. My father implored my pardon with his dying breath, and I could not withhold it. His was the lesser crime'of avarice. I wished to believe his assertion that he was urged to, the cruelty that stained his name, by the false state- ments and crafty management of the creature who had become his master. For the rest-I have said it 1" "' Yengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord,' "uttered Miss Barbara, solemnly. "Who gave you the right to interfere in His affairs ?" fe retorted by anothber quotation, said to himself, rather than to her. "' The ills of the gods grind slowly.' I could not 4 NE MESIS. i9s wait. You have not mistaken my reputation in this neighbor- hood, where, according to your showing, I had once hosts of friends. Because I would not blazon abroad the shaime of my kindred; because I shrank from explanations that would cover them with odium; men who knew me, and who ought to Have known him, preferred to take a knave's version of the injurtus suspicions that moved me to seek his ruin. Honorable 0in reasoned with me, when I ceased all pecuniary and friendly da ings with Sancroft, and when I resented their meddling a exposed him, they gave him double the business I had withdrawa They went further. When the lying son of an unscrupulous father-the wretch who should, this day, be serving out his time in the penitentiary, for robbing the mail-when this plausible rascal grew ambitious, and applied for a licence to teach the laws he had violated ; did not the Seldens, the Logans-did. not my own brother-in-law encourage his presumption ? Is he not rising fast in his profession, and a guest at the tables where, ten years before, he would not have dared to show his face ? This is: their friendship fort me I This is their sense of right and honesty !" "But they didn't know what you did about the Sancrofts I" argued Miss Barbara, who'was becoming alarmed by the storm she had raised. And why did they not ? I never concealed my reasons for my conduct. Was Sancroft's needless cruelty to piqr Hale a thing done in a corner ? My father publicly declareiagain and again, that his agent had gone beyond his orders; that he was ignorant of Hale's arrest, until he heard of his death. Whose' work then-ana whose only-was the miserable outrage that caused a stir throughout the country ?" Miss Barbara shook her head myster sly. "Sancroft has a glib tongue, and if Mr. Argyle talked, he and his son talkd too. I know that " page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 N E X E s HS. "And my father's equals and associates received the low-bred dog's story, before they would the word of a gentleman I Just what I said, a while ago I And, by so doing, they have arrayed themselves against me. - I have-not set myself against them l" ' They're willin' tq be friendly, I am sure. I've heard it said, often, how much influence you have with them." ". How much influence my money has, you mean. It is easy for them to overlook my lack of courtesy, while I have the best plantation and, most money out on interest of all the farmers for erien miles around. A poor man's plain speaking would be recol- lected and punished, where niine bypassed by, as 'that trifling difference of 'opinion,' or, ' little eccentricity.' Yes I you were right I where I once counted friends by the score, I cannot, to- night, point to one 1" His proud mouth twitched, andeShe turned away to conceal the weakness he had disclaimed. Miss Barbara still rocked herself on her chair, and groaned. "'Taint right, my dear boy I It's wrong I it's awful sinful to feel and adt as you do, no matter how badly they've served you." "You against me, too 1 I had not expected this, Aunt Bab!" His accent of mild reproach struck like a knife upon the faith- ful creature's heart. Yobu know -better!" she cried, vehemently. "I would lay down- my life for you. I have nothin' else to love and take care of. 'W/ld I find fault, with you, if not for your good-1 You Ca I aint a friend 1" -She planted herself in his path, and would not let him pass. "' You are only too good-too true, for suclh an unworthy Mfellow 1 he said, taking her hand, and smiling. "Yours is -the only' love I have, as I am' your earthly all. We will not quarrel.: ,'Miss Barbara was hAself again. "I tell you what, Malcolm Argyle, yon -ought to get married I You may laugh at-the notion X i M E S I. S. 199 much as you like--but a sensible, lovin' wife would make a man of you. . "Thank you i" he interrupted. "What she would make of you is a subject of more interest, to me. Suppose she were to get jealous, and try to set you- aside. Don't you see that I would have to get a divorce, forthwith? I can't live without you." He could not beguile her into a jest. "I am gittin' old; but I would sarve her so well that she couldn't send me away. -Then, the woman you ought to ha-e would' love me because I set so much store by you. I saw you talkin' to Marcia Selden, that was, to-ay-didn't I?" He was so used to her square ways that the question did- not startle him. "You saw me bow to her, and -listen to a little of her talk with Eleanor. Why do you ask?" "You've never seen her before since she married Mr. Carring- ton-have you?" N" o. l Mss Barbara groaned again. Malcolm laughed outright. "What is the matter?" "I was thinkin' how much she had to answer for. She was the main mischief-maker." "Will you believe what I am about to tell you, Aunt Bab 9" His hand was pressed, upon her shoulder, and looking upshe saw a careless, good huimored light, in his blue eyes, t7at rerinded her of other days. . : "I am -most grateful for the apparent chance that has forced upon me the meeting I have long and foolishy avoided. For four years--an age iq a boy's life, Aunt Bab-I carried Marcia Selden in my heart. I thought of her; dreamed of her; studied for her while I was abroad; and in return for this nonsensical devotion to-a very common-plac girl, who likedib meoftelwl,ad was flattered by my preference, without appreciating one milloth page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200, N E i E S .I S. part of a fraction of my feeling for her, I got a cool 'No, I thank you I Ma and I think I had better marry Stanhope Car- rington,' when the 'man renewed the proposals she had encour- aged in the boy. It almost killed me 1"He shuddered at the recollection. "But worse than the first stab and shock, was the period of longing and suffering that racked me into insensibility." He was soliloquizing-looking over her head into vacancy, and his grip upon her shoulder was tighter. "a What I endured in obstinate silence, I cannot relate.' It is over I Long ago, I learned to thank her for having taught me the worth of woman, as Sancroft and his crew had given me the average measure of manhood." "I don't understand more'n half of what you say 1" objected Miss, Barbara, making a wry face, and rubbing her shoulder. "Do you mean that you judge all women by Marcia Selden, and are obliged to her for not marrying of you?" "You have hit it--exactly 1" "And don't feel any grudge against her for jiltin' of you,?" "Not one iota--that is-not a mite I You don't believe it?" "I don't!" -said she, positively.' "Why didn't you shake hands with her this mornin'?" "Because I have no respect for her, and wanted her to under- stand this. Now, that she has had her instruction, I have"no objection to meeting her in a friendly manner." "What made you stand by, while she was talkin' to Eleanor? Honor bright, -Malcolm I Didn't the sound of her voice make you feel all-overish-like?" , "NO " laughing heartily. .The only qualm I had was at the thought that I had ever been such a fool as to worship the ordinary-looking, bedizened woman, who was deluging Eleanor with that wishy-washy stream of twaddle about her babies and Mr.- Carrington and the servants, and ' Ma.' When did you study the symptoms of the tender passion? You catechize like ST NE M E S I NES. 201 a professor of the science. Has old Slocum been up this way again lately? I thought you sent him off with a flea in his ear, si ages since." "Poor Slocum- He never was overly smart; but he's a good soul 1" sighed Miss Barbara. "I for one, shall always remem- ber him for his kindness to the Hales. They say he cried right out like a baby, when we got back from over the mountains, and he heard how poor dear Mark had died while we was away. And that reminds me"-she spoke quickly to avert the cloud gathering over Malcolm's face-"Did you ever see a better like- ness of Bessy Hale, than that ere English girl that was with your sister at church to-day?" "I did not notice the resemblance." "I don't see where your eyes was, I couldn't keep mine off of her, all the time we was at the table. Maybe, she's some kin. Bessy came of Irish stock. England and Ireland's j'iinn-a'mt they?" Malcolm suppressed his amusement at the far-fetched supposi- tion. "Not quite adjoining. There is a sea between them. More- over, Miss Rasheigh belongs to a wealthy old English family, and our poor Bessy was a Yankee shoemaker's wife. God night, Aunt, Bab. Don't fret your rigffteous soul over my shortcomings. If I am an iceberg to other people, it is because-I caninot help it, and neither can I help loving aid trusting in your " He would not have owned it, -yet this strange exchange of confidences was beneficial to him. It drained his mind of certain pestilential pools-black with the refuse of the past, that con- tributed liberally of' their noxious gases to poison the air, in which he thought and felt. The encounter with his boyish flame conduced to a like result. Miss Barbara's homely wisdom was. a relief to mental optics that were ever scanning and criticising the' warped and crooked ideas and practices of his fellows ; and her 9* page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] -202 NEMESIS. honest affection cheered a heart as dry as dust, for want of the dew and rain he perversely excluded. The companionship of his present visitors was not likely to lessen the humanizing effect of these influences ; nor were the services of the two succeeding days. - Certain it was, that when on Tuesday morning, having shaken hands with his venerable friend Mr. Laidley, who had lingered latest of the brethren, he saw from his front porch, Eleanor's husband ride into the lower gate, he neither frowned nor ex- claimed at the anticipated visit, and actually walked part of the way down the yard to meet him. Now, neither of these gentlemen was quite carried away by his -admiration of the other, and their interviews were as few and aa brief as was consistent with the desire of the Moreaus to maintain outwardly amicable relations with their wealthy and childless brother. Malcolm entertained a' sincere, if unavowed contempt for his sister's 'choice, and although distant to all his connec- tions, whether by consanguinity or marriage, showed a decided prefHrence for Jessie's husband-a rollicking, well-meaning, well- to-do squire, in an adjacent county. Mr. Moreau was a dashing youngIdf]le;-W when Eleanor fell in, loi:ii h him; an accomplished gpoismridesad dancer; ;pIeitihf i ed with gallantry of thie 6^e lioi1 and, as mig^Me ei epected, the petted toast 'of; .t-u ex. Eleanii ' i^ bfefty aAnd perhaps her prospectivel ' of purse, h il him fr her, amidst the envious sighs Qir com-peers, a3i ei it was the air with which she bore bTffer prize. I.. S diso*e&d, upon closer and calmer inspection, that she haedae-l a man inferior to herself in mental endowments, and less refined: inmaste; that the splen- did physique was a specious blind to the interi r poverty, she had too high a spirit to admit outsiders to the secret of her discomfi- ture. She rutled him as she would have done an*yone she had maried, whose love of her or of peace restraid him from declared warfare with his female Hotspur. Theymad-ae an edifying NEME B I 203 show of conjugal felicity abroad, and there is reason to believe that she was really extremely fond of him--the more, so, that he ; ^ granted her what she loved -yet more dearly-her own way. He was undeniably attached to her; lauded her attainments and person as freely as propriety allowed, and with -all his penchant "[ for flirtation, and fine girls, never waited on a pretty or sprightly woman -without his wife's permission'; i. e., when there was any danger that she would hear of it. ' The chief reason which Mr. Moreau had for shunning Malclm, was a rankling grudge he owed him, because of the feud btwen the brother and sister, which, at one time, immediately &after Malcolm's return from Europe and the developments incideit thereupon, had arisen to a deadly pitch, appearing likely to sever them for a lifetime. The hollow truce concluded at -their fathes grave, ten years before, was well understood on both sides, as a mere form. It was designed by Malcolm, as a tribute of respect to the departed; a sacrifice of fierce passions to- his -memory; by Eleanor, as a mask for the world to look upon, and the first plank toward bridging the chasm, dividing herself and probable heirs from the bulk of the, father's property, whieh was- willed to the son. With the children, came more .defate aild iate covetousness of the rich domain. She tuom, t , I including her husband,- even her Oswna t. ... him whio was to- mpe or mar, their fo r+t x; h eoret , prophecies of his-'mamage he scoute d id My. She bhad sufficient perception of his far ndbler nattte;-to enter into the mystery of his misanthropical selo, Iis ld cynicism to 'her sex, and was not rashy confident in her persuasion that he;-would die, as he had lived-a bachelor. One of her darling ojects was gained when people beggn to think and speak oft. theyitte Mal- colm Moreat as thehee pre sumptiv e of:. Ben Lm 4and -her personal, as well as her matemal pride was gratied at -the increased court paid herin consequence. - O* o page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204 N E M E S I S. Malcolm had no acquaintance who would venture upon a hint of this to him; but Miss Barbara:heard of it, and a great many other things of a like kind, that galled her sorely. She was con- scientiously opposed to adding a breath toward rekindling the smouldering brands of family discord. With all Eleanor's faults, she was her mother's childk; the first-born babe-and had opened her eyes to the light in the old nurse's arms-a memory, that well nigh blotted out the most shameful passages of her after-life. Still, Miss Barbara was not willing that the sister's offspring should rule in the stead of " her boy," when he should sleep with his fathers.. If not a model of a perfect man in her esteem, she loved him for his very imperfections, and believed him entitled to the best lady in the land, and she could not blind herself to the fact, that if Ben Lomond did not need a mistress, a wife of the right sort would be its master's temporal salvation. Hence, her bold declaration to this effect on Saturday night, which, had Eleanor heard, her rage would scarcely have stopped short of private assassination. Yet the marriage, at once so desired and so deprecated, would have seemed a most proper and probable event to one who watched Malcolm, as he strode down the walk to salute the com- ing- guest. His curls, embrowned by the passing years, were uncovered and stirred in the mornings air. His eye had the clear blue of -his boyhood, with a steadier and more penetrating look, and his -broad shoulders, deep chest and athletic limbs made up a picture of true manliness, strength and grace, that might secure him favor in the eyes of women, were he fifty, instead of thirty years old. ': "You are looking very Nell V" said Mr. Moreau, assuming an ease he was far from feeling ; as children whistle -in the dark to prevent themselves from hearing goblin footsteps behind them. "How do you manage to keep so young? There can't be much difference in our ages." 2^h ' EE 8 IS. 205 "I am thirty,"said Malcolm, gravely. e ., "And I thirty-five. A stranger would declare t it n years the older of the two. D'ye see the grey hairs?*a r locks above his ears. . -*^ j Ad 1 "I see some, certainly," rejoined the other. Xi i' It occurred to him then, that Moreau had grown old within a twelvemonth past. It was all of that time since he had, taken the Xil pains to notice him particularly. There were incipient crows'-feet and hollowing of cheeks -and eyes, that bore out the testimony of the white hairs. Malcolm had never thought him a man who was likely to take trouble heavily; yet he could have been sure -that- he had known cares, and grievous ones, lately; that he could not shake them off now. "And what marvel?" he thought. "Nothing but india-rub- her, and a French article at that, would have retaine d any elasti- city after eleven years with Eleanor. What ails'you, Moreau?' he asked, unthinkingly, and almost kindly. I Mr. Moreau changed color, perhaps with surprise. i "Nothing I -Nothing 1" answered he, flurriedly. Time and i responsibility, I suppose. You must not forget that we married men have more on our hands and brains and hearts, too, than^t i i happy dogs of bachelors." They had reached the dining-room, and Malcolm invite^ brother-in-law to the sideboard. Mr. Moreau selected brandy : water. In handing him the decanter, Malcolm detected the odbor: : ^ of prior and copious potations, and'observed that he could not pour out the liquor steadily. He mixed it strong and sweet, aind swallowed it, thirstily. "You don't drink yourself!" he said, ashis host turned from the beaufet with him. "Sometimes I do; not very often." "It is a sin for a man to keep such liquors and not enjoy them," continued Mr. Moreau, glancing regretfully at the empty iM9' page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 X E X E S I . glass. "I wish I could afford to do it. What terrible times these arel:ilH be hanged if I am not tempted to believe that old King George-tyrant and fool 'though he was-was a better master than the mob that is king over us now. The government is like a hound-puppy-barking ' War, war 1' with all its might, and backing as fast as it barks. The country is on the brink of bank. ruptcy.1" "The darkest hour is just before the day," said Malcolm, care- lessly. "But I am no politician." "INor I; but how can a man, with one grain of patriotism, repress his indignation at the unnecessary ruin that impends above his native land? The proclamation that declares war with Great Britain, seals the doom of the United States as a nation. Don't you think so?" The query was put doubtfully, for. the sarcastic curl of Mal- colm's lip slightly damped the fire of patriotism and brandy. "I think lthat you have been to hear one of Jack Randolph's blood-and-fury speeches, and that he has converted you to the peace principles he would maintain by force of arms if he had his will. A, novel style of preventing aggressive warfare upon foreign powers, is this fomenting civil dissensions I Fie, man 1 is your love for the land of your fathers? How do you ch the red-hot abuse of France and everything French, with which Randolph pelts the crowd? What do you do with your affection for the home of your forefathers?' Mr-. Moreau tumbled off his stilts. "Oh, well 1" he said, looking foolish. "I am half English, you. recollect, and American by birth and residence. By the way, have you met my uncle, Colonel Rasheigh?" "I was introduced to him on court-day." "BHe is a first-rate specimen of the fine old English gentleman, and: has alovely family. YoU will call, I hope." "Thank you. I rarely pay visits, unless on business.' NEMESIS. 10 "Eleanor intends giving a party next week to introduce them to the neighbors. You have received your invitation, I suppose?" "I have." Mr. Moreau was nervous in nearing the point. "She asked me to ride by, this morning, and press you to come. They are: my relations, and she is anxious to have them on terms of social-intercourse with hers. Jessie and tHunter will be over, if Jessie's baby can bear the jaunt. It will be a pleas- ant family gathering, you see." : Malcolm was silent; the expression of his countenance unequi- vocal as to his opinion concerning the delights of- the aforesaid re-union. "You will be charmed with the Colonel," floundered poor Moreau. His brother-in-law's resemblance to his queen-wife was alarm- ingly apparent, when he "put on his high looks," and he had cause to dread the sign. The cowed aspect of the man nearly provoked Malcolm's risibles ; but excited his compassion also. "After all," he reasoned, "It is a trifle, and my going will please'Bab. It is a bore, though," said second or third thought "and I will guard my acceptance:- I have not been to a party this great while, Moreau," he said, aloud. And as he, realized what he was about to do, he swallowed in advance, a yawn of desperate weariness. "But, as Jessie is to be there, and it is my duty to do the hospitable thing, by your relatives, I'll think the matter over, and let you know my decision before the eventful evening." Mr. Moreau was entranced. A polite, stiff negative, it was his expectation to bear back to his empress. In the excitement of the moment, he arose, and poured out another bumper. "The fellow has a stronger head: than I thought, if he can stand that, added to what has gone before," thought Malcolm, in uneasy disgust. . . - - - page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 NEMESIS. Mr. Moreau lost no time in disproving the transient suspicion that he had a stable brain. Owing to circumstances we will not pause to narrate just here, he had been impelled to resort to an extraordinary quantity of stimulus that morning. Drink deeply, he could and did, with impunity, daily; but, as we have hinted, the interior of his cranium was not proof against a very heavy assault of any description of spirits. "Suppose we sit in the porch?" suggested Malcolm, rising. "The house feels close on this breezy morning." Moreau's eye said, "adieu," to the decanter, and he followed. "The tobacco-box and pipes, Tony 1" ordered Mr. Argyle, to his bodytservant. ".A pitcher of cool water and glasses!" The porch was a charming summer parlor, festooned by vines, and supplied with comfortable benches. Tony, grown into a smart, intelligent young " gentleman of color," brought out a stand from the hall, and disposed the required articles upon it, with a dexterity that told how familiar the office was. Mr. Moreau nodded to his respectful bow. A likely boy!" he remarked, -when he was beyond hearing. "Hang it, Argyle I you don't begin to feel what a lucky star yours- is I Everything that chils you 'master,' thrives. Your crops never -fail; your cattle never have the distemper, or any other ailing that I hear of, and your servants fly if, you look at them. : Yet you have the name of being a kind manager, Do you keep an overseer this year?" "I have not had one since Friblie went West, five years since. My colored man, 'William, is the overlooker in the field. I do not approve of sub-masters on a plantation." "They are a pest I but I cannot get along without one. There is that fellow, Snead, cheating me out of my eye-teeth, and get- ting rich himself--the rascal I Yet, what can I do? I am ready sometimes to blow my brains out. :Pon my soul, I am-!" "-Better discharge the overseer," said- Malcolm, composedly. lN E-E I Is. 209 And hire- another as bad, or worse I The truth is, Argyle, it is a riddle to me how H am to make both ends meet this year. We have studied economy till we are absolutely pinching our- selves." "And giving large parties," thought the cooler head of his listener. "Only last week, I sold a horse that his weight in gold would not have induced me to part with, six months ago, and Eleanor has not bought a new dress for I don't know when." I dare say you do not!" commented the uncharitable brother, to himself. "But it is no use I I shall be only another victim to the times, and the stupidity, or something worse, of -the precious rulers of this glorious and prosperous Republic. If it were not for my wife and babies, I would not care how soon I went by the board." A real tear trickled down his cheek, hidden the next instant by a cloud of smoke. - "Melancholy drunk!" decided Malcolm, knocking out the ashes from his pipe over the porch railing. The impatient action braised and snapped a tender spray of the hop-vine that formed part of the verdant curtain. The power- ful odor-mingled sweet and bitter-floated past Malcolm, on the warm air, and bore his fancy back to other days and pictures. The early and humble friends, whose tragic fate had cast such a shadow over his existence; the vine-draped cottage; Mark's cheery face and tone; Bessie's lithe form and pleasant smile, as she hovered around his couch; little Kitty's touch on his:-hands and brow; her sunny curls brushing his, as she prattled from the fullness of her loving heart--dear, dear little Kitty I where was she now? His mouth relaxed; his eyes-vere no longer0-coka/nd bright, as these memories rolled over him. - It was a willful freak of imagination, and took his heart unawares. There was, for i ' page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 N E M-E 8 IS8. the time, no intermixture or afterthought of revenge against those who had wrought the ruin of the happy home, so truly remem bered. Instead, ensued a disposition to pity and succor the sor rowing,.from whatever cause the affliction might proceed. Het was subject to these fits of softening, although no one, except Miss Barbara, knew it. At this auspicuous conjuncture of memory and feeling, Mr. Moreau's plaining-again reached his senses. "I abominate debt, and I have chafed under this until 'I am worn out. If I cannot raise themoney, I cannot. In these times, everything sells at a ruinous sacrifice ; but honor is dearer than money, and sell I will--if it takes everything I have to cover the claim." "1How much is' it?" : Malcolm's accent was propitious. Mr. Moreau congratulated himself upon his eloquence. He had an indistinct idea of having read at school of a man whose oratory by the sea-side brought the fish in enraptured crowds to the beach. In his tipsy medi- tations,. he pronounced himself a greater magician, in that he had dispelled the oyster-like reserve of the man who kept the rest of the world, at bay. Oh, Eleanor Moreau I if you could have seen the presumptuous germs sprouting in the soil of a mind whose tillage you claimed as your monopoly ; could have known- of his temerity in risking your childrens' hoped-for inheritance upon a die of his own casting I She was not at hand to avert consequences, good or bad-and Mr. Moreauy having conceived the idea of perverting his powers as his wife's plenipotentiary, to his personal. and private advantage, pushed on to the issue; . "If I could get reliable security," he said, quite artlessly. iCa: pital tobacco this I I would recognize it for yours, any- where. Such a name as Logan's or yours, for instance--but, bless you! Logan is as close as wax, and you might not consi" E X 'i Bs I s . 2" der a deed of trust upon any part of my property you choose to select, sufficient to warrant you in "--- Malcolm seemed to awake from a dream. "I never go security for any one!" he said, so brusquely, that a Mr. Moreau leaped from his chair, and the pipe slipped from his fingers, "What sum do you want?" "Well-but indeed, I had no intentions-I did not design a hint"--- l "What is the amount of this debt?" Mr. Moreau had wit enough left to name a sum exceeding his [ real need. "If he is disposed to be liberal, a figure or two more won't stop him!" whispered low cunning. "So much 1" exclaimed Malcolm, with a searching gaze, that frightened the blood to the liar's heart.' "You have been unfortu- nate indeed-very unlucky!" laying a stress upon the 'last word, f that, coupled with his keen eye, made Mr. Moreau fidget in deadly trepidation, lest he had spoiled all, or that the hermitage of1 his brother-in-law had not been proof against certain reports of busybodies, touching the manner of his losses. Malcolm was buried in thought for some minutes, his compressed lips and knit brows, replete with evil augury to the quaking petitioner. "And this, you wish me to lend you?' "My dear Argyle! did I say that? "You meant it 1 Your property will he sacrificed unless you receive immediate assistance?" Mr. Moreau sighed dolorously, " iven so." "You will give your bond in return?" - "Assuredly I most certainly!" recovering spirit. "-It is a temporary embarrassment, the fault of the times, altogether, you see. Blame Madison, and all his backers, I say l" Malcolm went into the house, and presently-returned-with a paper, yet wet from the pen. -- ":The money is in bank - Send to Richmond and -get it 1" " page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] 212 NEMESIS. "My dearest brother!" cried Moreau, jumping up and grasp- ing his hand, fairly beside himself with delighted astonishment. Your bond, if you please!" interposed the creditor. It was- illegibly made out, owing to liquor or the flutter of pleasure he was in, and then Mr. Moreau broke foith again with his ecstatic gratitude. Malcolm brought him up this time, at the second word. "I can dispense with thanks," said he, every syllable a pellet of ice, falling slowly and severely upon the appalled auditor. "Your wife is cognizant of your distressed circumstances, and your appeal to my generosity, I presume." "Yes t yes 1" chattered Mr. Moreau's teeth. He hardly knew what he said or thought further than the over- whelming impression that his wife's brother was a most uncomfor- table man, and that the worst was still ahead of him. He was not deceived. "I am glad of it I She is a woman to feel keenly a strait of this sort." "She does, sir I she does I She cried all last night about it, and was nearly distracted when I left her this morning." "I am very glad to hear it!" said Malcolm, in the same incom- prehensible tone, "I have a message to send her. Please say- or no I I will write it. Excuse me a moment l" He handed him a sealed note, when he came out again. "With my respects and sympathies," he said, smiling sardoni- cally. "And you will be over to the party?" "Not unless I change my mind!" was the unexpected response. But as he looked neither angry nor scornful, Mr. Moreau's scanty residue of sense concluded that he was " only joking," and he laughed-in saying, "Good morning." -Malcolm saw him ride down the lane, with bitter contempt in eye-and heart. NEMESIS. 213 "What brought that here?" snapped Miss Barbara, whose curiosity had been crucifying her from the instant of Mr.- Moreau's arrival. Instead of answering her question, Malcolm laughed harshy through his shut teeth. "You told me once, Aunt Bab, by way of reconciling me to I the beauties of human nature, that all men were not Sancrofts. You were right; but I believe I had rather deal with a snake than a toad'!" Mr. Moreau was within the bounds of his own plantation before the brilliant thought occurred to him that the note he car- ried might refer to the private transaction between himself and Malcolm, and not to Eleanor's invitation. The cold sweat oozed through his pores at the frightful probability. -Instinctively, he checked his horse behind a clump of trees, that would screen him from- the house, and took the letter from his pocket-book. He could see through the paper that it was short, and strained his eyes to decipher something of its contents. We commend this incident, as the first of a series of like sort, to the serious consideration of managing wives, whose spouses have no secrets from the partners of their souls. Never was hus- band better drilled than Mr. Moreau; never had Benedict a more thorough sense of his wife's superior abilities, as contrasted with his own; never did one profess more cheerful and implicit reliance upon her counsel, or appear to make a more ample confession of all intentions and transgressions-yet his polar star, at that hour, beamed radiantly in her firmament, without the least fear- of approaching tempest. In other words, Eleanor was as profoundly ignorant of her husbands pecuniary difficulty as of his bold and dishonorably secret designs upon her brother's pocket. Mr. Moreau's conscience accommodated itself with dexterous facilty to falsehoods of any dimensions; but, such is the restrain- ing effects of human law! he hesitated to break the damp wafer. page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] i14- N E E 8IS of the missive he held. He turned the letter over and over, he] it up to the light, and, at length, peeped in at one end. This a( revealed his own name at the top of the page, and he was inser ing his finger to see what came next, when the wafer split, an the note came open in his hands. It was brief, indeed. RLT,EANOR: Mr. Moreau has confided to me the embarrassed state of hi affairs-represented the necessity of leaving you and your children home less unless relief is speedily afforded. I have supplied the means to aver the catastrophe, for a while, at least. I have rejected his thanks. I wi not receive yours. I wish you both to understand that mercy for you an yours has not been my motive in this act. I have performed it in memor of your contrary course toward my friends, the Hales. Consider, i accepting this relief, that Providence has humbled you to circumstance precisely similar to what were theirs when you refused them aid, and fee -if you have a spark of feeling left-that the hand of the dead is heapin coals of fire upon your head. "The mills of the gods grind slowly;" but the turn-of every criminal i sure. I hope and believe that yours is near at hand. MALCOLM ARGYE. Mr. Moreau sat his horse like a petrifaction. Deliver th letter he could not. He was afraid to destroy it or to- preteni that he had lost it. Malcolm had seen him -deposit it carefully i his pocket-book. What business-it would be. asked-had he to take it out before reaching home? Even if Eleanor had know] of, and authorized the loan he had effected, it would be as mucl as his life was worth to give her this crazy effusion--for such i seemed to him--the composition of a vengeful monomaniac., Fo: the thousandth time, he rained maledictions upon the Hales without reflecting that the Providence he ignored, and the write of the letter recognized, had ordered that he. should read it withil ten steps of the spot where he had, in unthinking and impertinen gallantry, shut the last door of hope against Bessy, by arousing Eleanor's vindictive jealousy. "Our pleasant vices are mad( aB ' N NEM E X I S1 . 215 whips of, to scourge us for our sins ;" and this long lash, stretch- ing across the gulf of years, stung none the less that the castiga- tion had been delayed. His troubled irresolution ended in his resealing and replacing the epistle in his wallet. "If Malcolm refers to it, which it is not likely he will do, he is so close-mouthed, and Eleanor attacks me about it, I will say that I forgot it. It will be prudent to keep; it-for :some, days; then I can burn it, and suppose that I must have thrown it away, with a lot of old papers that were littering up my pocket-book. I was always better at fibbing than fighting." !F page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] 216 NEMESIS. CHAPTER XVI. rTHERE are some days whose exceeding beauty makes them to be events, rather than divisions of time, in our lives; Whose fas- cinations steal irresistibly to whatever sense of loveliness there may be in us; win their way to the heart as to the fancy, and beguile the most practical into love with life and the world that furnishes a pleasure so exquisite. Such was one forenoon, when Malcolm Argyle threw himself into the saddle for a long ride. "Coquette or not, May is a bewitching month," he said, as his horse gallopped down the turfy lane and into the forest-bordered road. "June is too passionate, too hot and dazzling. I like this play of childlike smiles better." There were truly smiles everywhere. To some eyes, sunshine is ever the same, unless obscured or subdued by clouds; whereas, to the student lover of Nature, its characters are as various and- dis- tinct as the landscapes it blesses. There is, as Malcolm said, the rich, re d glare of June, ripening the berries and, darkening the spring' verdure, while it whitens the harvest fields ;-filling the noon-tide with the odors it has rifled from flowers that droop beneath the radiance they yet worship ; and robing the evening heavens with a purple twilight that flushes the zenith far into the night-watches. Then comes the intense white heat of August; and next, and perhaps most beautiful, the soft yellow glow that lends to September and October an illusory charm--a dreamy magic, that floods our souls with delicious, yet languorous fancies ; N E M,E8 IS. 217 the atmosphere of all others, in which poets oftenest learn what they were created to be and to do, and under whose spell men listen most willingly to their strains. November sunlight is a pained and joyless gleam, more like a frown than a smile, except when Indian Summer, with the breath of departed flowers and the warmth of solstitial airs, lulls the dreary mourner into sweet dreams of the pleasures she appears to lament through the chill days and gusty midnights. There is no softness, no coloring in the sun's rays in winter- time-only a frosty glitter, that never" dallies with shadows, or dances on the water Old Sol shines away bravely, but it is evi- dently from a conviction of duty. Since he has engaged to light this dismantled ball of earth, he will adhere to his campact, but it is a loveless office-well performed, yet not con amore. April is gay and pensive on alternate hours, and ere we tire':of her 'caprices, May skies are over us, and upon the earth, light, that seems to quiver with gladnes. The leaves glisten and dance from morn to eve; shadows chase and glide and disappear on the plain; the violets, far down in the dell, unclose their blue eyes in pleased surprise at the touch that awakens them ; and tempted by the pure, frolicksome kisses of the never-still rays, white lilies and moss-roses and timid anemones and shrinking acacias-the shy and fragile darlings of the garden-take their places in the vernal fete. Malcolm yielded to the'spell of the day andseason. His choice of a route was a sequestered by-way, leading by many a devious pass, through the heart of" the grand old forest. He forgot the winters of the man; their frosts of grief and disappointment, and felt himself again the boy, whose life was to be one unending May. He talked to himself and to his horse ; repeated poetical descrip- tions of sylvan beauties and lyrical praises of "Merrie Maie ;"-- he even sang a stanza of a hunting-song he had trolled lustily with his college-mates. "Geatly, Sprightly!" he said, coaxingly, to the spirited mare, 10 1 S . i te ma , page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 218 NEX ESIS-. as she arched her neck, curvetted and neighed in sympathy with the weather and his sunny mood. "She is a mischievous kitten, yet an affectionate one 1" he continued, for she inclined her small, pointed ears to his caressing hand, and glanced back- ward at him, her brilliant eye bespeaking intelligent attachment to the master, who, however stern and unsparing he might be to his own kind, was humane as the most pitiful woman to dumb and helpless things. "She is thirsty, poor creature!" said he, again, marking her wistful look at a pool on the roadside "No I no! my dainty lady! You would not touch that stagnant water. The creek is not far ahead i" Another mile's canter brought them in sight of it. It was a sluggish stream in this part of its course; broad and shallow, and lined on the bottom with a thick stratum of decaying leaves. The road was not much used by the inhabitants of the vicinity ; but it had been travelled sufficiently to wear the bed of the creek at the intersection of the two. And here, where the water was deeper and clearer than further up or down the channel, a lady equestrian had stopped to let her horse drink. Her attendant, whom Mal- colm knew directly for Colonel Rasheigh's English groom, rode along the shelving bank, to a spot some distance below his young i mistress, and then into the creek. Malcolm saw his peril, and galloping down thl hill, shouted to the unwary stranger : " lThere is a quagmire just before you I Take care 1" Miss Rasheigh, conceiving the caution to be meant for her, wheeled her steed to the bank from which she had come, alarmed by the suddenness and the purport of the warning, yet retaining her presence of mind. The groom struck-his spurs into his horse's sides and rushed into the thick of the danger--a narrow morass, cloaked by green slime and moss--but which an acute eye would have detected and avoided. The poor beast's legs were out of sight at the second plunge. NE E ESIS. 219 Off with you!" called Malcolm. "Don't you see that you are sinking him deeper?" The fellow fell, rather than slipped off, so helpless was his ter- ror. Malcolm had dismounted, and advancing as near as he dared to the treacherous quagmire, seized, with one hand, a stout branch that overhung the water, and held out the other to the servant. It required an exertion of his herculean strength to drag the bulky frame from the mire, and to firmer footing; but it was the work of an instant. Then by the help of the invariable fence-rail, to which the Virginian first looks for succor in wayside casualties, and by the combined efforts of the two, the horse was extricated ; and the task was done in less time than it has taken us to relate the accident. "Thank you, Mr. Argyle!" said Miss Rasheigh, gratefully. She, too, had crossed the creek, and remained a mute, but ex- cited spectator of the rescue, without distracting the attention of the actors in it by audible expressions of her feelings or fears. Malcolm had hardly seen her before, and he observed now, that she had picked up Sprightly's bridle, which he had flung upon her neck, and held it with her own. She extended her hand, and there was a tremulous sparkle in her eye. "You are very kind!" she said, frankly. "I tremble to think what might have happened but for your arrival," Malcolm could not abash her by appearing to overlook her grateful action. He took the proffered hand and pressed it slightly, disclaiming his right to her thanks. "Perhaps I was in fault," he, said, " for my hasty alarm, which confused your groom;. But he was too close to the miry bank for me to hesitate." "You were perfectly right, I am sure. Thomas! do you understand that this gentleman saved your life?" "Do not, I beg of you, Miss Rasheigh, magnify my trifling page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 NEMESIS. service in that proportion!" said Malcolm, smiling. "He would probably have lost his horse, but I think he would have contrived to reach the shore himself." "Contrived!"Katherine shook her head, with a mischievous laugh. "I have no precedent that warrants me in believing that he will ever .learn the meaning of the word. Are you ready, Thomas?' she inquired, raising her voice. He had withdrawn a decent space, and was shaking himself, like a huge water-dog, to dislodge the heavier portions of the mud that enveloped the lower part. of his figure and bespattered him to the crown of his hat. "That is a hopeless business," said Malcolm to him. "My advice is-with your permission, Miss Rasheigh-that you mount your horse at once, Thomas, and ride home as fast as possible. Exercise is the best prescription for you after your bath, until you can get to a fire and a change of clothing. He is not a fit escort for you in that plight, Miss Rasheigh," he remarked, aside. "If you will allow me, I will see ypon snfoly to -your father's door." The groom, in sullen mortification, thrust the mud from his stirrups with a stick, and muttered something about his " orders being never to lose sight of Miss Rasheigh." Katherine flushed scarlet at his impertinence. Provoked as he himself was, Malcolm remarked the leaping fire, and how quickly it was controlled. "You will ride on J" she commanded, with quiet dignity. "Say to your master that I am safe, and that Mr. Argyle has politely- offered to attend me home." The man's ludicrous figure, as he trotted briskly before them, was to Malcolm and Katherine an apology for his reluctance to precede them. The slimy mire dripped from him and his horse in clots and puddles, that marked their track in the middle of the road. Departed was the glory of his yellow leather breeches and N E M E S IS. 221 fair top-boots. From his waist downward he was black as tar could have made him, and the red coat which he had sported with such swellings of national pride, was so besmirched and spotted that there was little hope of -its restoration to its pristine hue. His crest-fallen air and unmistakable consciousness of their inspection, completed the sorriness of the picture. "I can go no further- " exclaimed Katherine, reining up. Laughter strangled her accents, and restraining herself by superhuman efforts, until the luckless lackey disappeared behind a bend in the road, she gave way to her emotion in a peal of the liveliest merriment that ever echoed in forest dingle. Malcolm joined in with all his heart. Respect for her had controlled his inclination thus long. Talk of the sympathy of the graver and sadder sentiments of our nature, the friendship that springs into being from the unfore- seen recognition of kindred tastes, or that blooms upon the grave of a common sorrow I Our observation:--aye, and our experience, go to prove that nothing so thaws the ice of mutual reserve, levels the barriers of previous strangerhood so instantaneously as a hearty laugh, participated in, and enjoyed alike by both of the predestined acquaintances. The bright eyes, whose glances met through mirthful tears, said to each other that apologies for the simultaneous violation of propriety's laws were neither expected nor desirable. When they were so far recovered as to pursue their ride, there were continual lapses into similar evidences of amusement, as they recalled the grotesque apparition, in whose steps they were following. "Were the Mays of ' Merrie England more beautiful to you than this?" asked Malcolm, in response to her remark upon the loveliness of the morning. "No I never saw such fnshine before." Her face was honest and happy. "I have alwiays heard that the people in your Southern States lived out of doors. If nature often holds out page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 N E MESIS. temptations like to-day, I shall easily learn your habits. Walls and roofs of any description are a prison in this weather." "Excepting these!" answered Malcolm, pointing to the pillared aisle they were traversing, formed by the trees that spread their green canopy overhead. Before he thought of what he did, he found himself repeating from his favorite poet: "How airy and how light the graceful arch! Yet awful as the consecrated roof, Reechoing pious anthems." She looked up at him with a smile, as of one who hears his native tongue in a foreign land. "Ah I you know Cowper, then?' "I read him!" he replied, with a slight emphasis. -She blushed at the peculiarity of' her phrase, then rallied to defend it. i "And do you not find that he\has grown as familiar to you as any friend who visits your house in person? When you read, which is his talking to you, do you not feel as if you were like- I wise talking with him?" "I have experienced something of the kind, I must confess. I need not inquire what poet you admire most." "Which one I love. most, you need not, assuredly. I have a good governess, who, in the excess of her approbation of Cowper's sentiments and style, caused me to transcribe the whole of his ' Task,' and to commit to memory an -incredible number of his. shorter poems. I learned thus to write mechanically while my head was full of other things, and my faithless memory lost the larger part of what was formally given into her keeping ; but all this did not eradicate my veneration and affection for the only poet I ever entirely understood." She paused, and with a smile, whose archncss might hlave NEMESIS. 223 seemed too free, had it been less natural and girlish, added, "You see, Mr. Argyle, you may finish your quotation, secure of an atten- tive listener." "I did finish it-did I not?" "No, sir. You stopped on recollecting that, you were not alone." It was the truth. The following lines were too just a descrip- tion of what their eyes feasted upon that moment, not to present themselves, unbidden, to the thoughts of any one who had ever read them. Malcolm recited them; partly because Miss Rash- leigh requested it ; mainly because they arose so spontaneously to his lips, that an effort would have been required to keep them back : "The checkered earth seems-restless as a flood, Brushed by the wind. So sportive is the light Shot through the boughs, it dances as they-dance,- Shadows and sunshine intermingling quick, And darkening and enlight'ning-as the leaves Play wanton--evry moment, every spot." "Thank you 1" said the young lady, simply and earnestly. The dimples still lingered in her cheek; but the sweeping fringes of the lids veiled her downcast eyes, and she rode on for some time without speaking. Her riding-habit and the cap, with its falling plume, became her well, and in any attire, common or picturesque, she must have been handsome; but it was not the isolated fact of her beauty that drew and riveted the regards of her escort. It was a vague, thrilling impression of familiarity with the features which it was impossible to believe he had ever seen before, save in the brief instant of their introduction at church.- - Yet that half-smile, meditative and sweet ; the short upper lip --the thought of pride in its curve, modified by the ripe fullness of the lower; the cleft chin, that imparted piquancy to the ^ ..' page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224: N E M SIS. countenance ; the shapely head and its regal poise upon the white neck ; these he had seen-not once or twice, in a passing glimpse -but had beheld, and studied, and loved. Like a flash of light, recurred to him Miss Barbara's comment upon the "English girl's " resemblance to Bessy Hale. He called himself stupid and blind not to have perceived it at a glance. This it was--the accidental likeness to his early protege--that had moved him to an interest in this young creature-this child, in comparison with his matured manhood-such as he had not felt for aught in the form of woman, since the dream of his youth was broken. At this stage in the revolution of his thoughts, their subject raised her eyes and dropped them again, beneath a scrutiny, whose blent interest and inquiry she could not fail to read, and certainly did not understand. Malcolm spoke promptly, to end the awkward pause. "That is a noble animal, Miss Rasheigh. He is imported, I suppose? "He was one of my fellow-voyagers," said she, threading the flowing mane with her fingers. "No place would be quite home without him. He has owned me as mistress since his coltish days." "You enjoy riding, I perceive. You will not find such horse- women here, as you have been used to see in your own land. American ladies are seldom equestrian from love of the exercise. In many parts of the country, it is the only practicable mode of conveyance to church, to the neighbors' houses and to town. What is performed as a necessity, soon ceases to become a pleasure." "Your sister, Mrs. Moreau, is an exception to your rule, it would seem. I called at her house this morning to deliver a message from my father to Mr. Moreau. As I was in my habit, the conversation ran principally upon horses and riding. She made eager and minute inquiries about certain English customs, N E M E S I S . 225 that afforded opportunity for the display of this accomplishment; hunting, steeple-chases, and the like. There are still ladies, who ride to see the hounds throw off,. and are not only frequenters of the turf-but I am ashamed to say--risk and lose their money. upon the race, as freely as do their husbands and brothers. I have heard such stories, and my information in these matters is only gained from hearsay." "Many ladies in our highest circles maintain and exercise their right to witness such sports," replied Malcolm. "I am perhaps inclined to be A mazonian in my liking for fine horses," said Katherine, " and education might have made me as zealous a patron of the race-course as Diana was of the chase, had it not been for my father's insuperable dislike-prejudice, if you choose to consider it such-to games of hazard in any form." "He shows sound judgment there! I rejoice that his princi- ples are so strict"-then catching her surprised gaze at his warmth, he bit his lip and changed the subject. Colonel Rasheigh walked down the porch-steps and lawn to receive his daughter and her cavalier. He had seen Malcolm once before on the Court-house green-the monthly rendezvous of all the male denizens of the county, and now greeted him with as cordial a welcome as was compatible with present agitation and general stiffness. "You have earned our sincere gratitude, sir?" he said, in solemn pomp. "I was never more. displeased with anyone in my life, sir, than I am with that stupid blockhead of a servant. I shall appoint you some othef groom, Katherine, my daughter. A fellow, who cannot take care of himself and his horse, must not be intrusted with d lady's safety." "Indeed, you are too hard upon him, papa 1" said Katherine. - "E He has been sorely punished for his negligence. It was nothing but- an oversight that any of us might have committed. 'Ask 10* page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 2 * NEMESIS. Mr. Argyle if it was not a deceptive quagmire. I, myself, would have mistaken it for solid ground. Thus referred to, Malcolm was obliged to sustain her generous : appeal in behalf of the ungrateful Thomas. "Others have met with the same misfortune there," he answered. "One of my neighbors lost a colored boy at that identical spot last winter. He was suffocated before help arrived." "Oh!" Katherine grew pale and clasped her hands, at this thoughtless admission of the peril he had hitherto affected to treat lightly. ' 1 Colonel Rasheigh moved his head up and down, in magisterial condemnation of the public authorities, that left unguarded a pitfall, whose danger was thus proclaimed ; but courtesy wrought upon his justice to induce him to withhold this opinion. They were at the house-door, and he invited Mr. Argyle in, with formal but sincere hospitality. Malcolm declined, and' what was harder, he held out against the reiteration of the request by Katherine's involuntary look. But though he risked offending them in this respect, he was too much the gentleman to forget that he ought to ask permission to call, the following day, and inquire whether Mims Rasheigh's health had sustained any shock from her friight. The petition was readily granted, and he took leave. With spirits changed from the buoyancy of the early morning, he set his face homeward. He--Malcolm Argyle-the misogy- nist and Timon of the region-had ridden four miles in company with a woman-young and handsome-without satiety or dis- gust ; had talked of the weather-a theme he despised, as the staple of discourse among fools and fashionables-and, more absurd I had quoted poetry, like a sentimental Sophomore. Worst of all was he jnot committed to- a call-a visit in cold blood and broad daylight, at her father's house I and he foresaw manifold obstacles in the way of civilly dropping an acquaintance thus commenced. He railed at himself for inconsistency, because he was not more annoyed-angry, in fact-at the advantage secured over him by the fate adverse to the uneventful routine of his secluded life. Almost a stranger as he was to those who had known him since his birth, why should he allow circumstances to force these foreign comers upon his acquaintanceship ? He suc- ceeded in deceiving himself into an inclement humor by the time he dismounted at Ben Lomond, and, for the rest of the day, Miss Barbara wore (spiritual and invisible) sackcloth and ashes for the palpable failure of her recent attempt' at amelioration of his moods. It was a relief to see him set off upon his accustomed ride next morning. " He's bilious, I think, she said, " and maybe the shakin' and the air will do him good." The remedies doubtless proved efficacious, for when he pre- sented himself in Colonel Rashleigh's drawing-room, his fresh complexion and-clear eye betokened excellent digestion and a healthy state of the blood. The apartment was not adapted to the purpose for which it was now used, except in size. The wainscot was painted dark- green, and the furniture having been selected to correspond, and the narrow windows being placed very high up, the lugubrious effect was gloomily unpleasing. Malcolm reverted to Katherine's declaration that roofs and walls were a prison at this season, aid believed that he had discovered -the secret of her partiality for out-of-door lifp. Colonel Rashleigh had met him in the hall and ushered him into this room, in a state that prepared the visitor for an introduction to a large company, whereas there was not a soul there beside thbemselves. Be seated, if you please, Mr. Argyle 1" The colonel drew forward an immense chair, shrouded in green drapery. Malcolm thought of the pillory, as the perpendicular page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 N MES I B. back straightened his spinal column to a right line, and he dis- pensed with the use of a footstool that was considered as a part of the throne. "You are not afflicted with the gout, then, sir?" said the host, seeing this action. Malcolm could not prevent a smile, and a glance at his young, strong limbs. "No, sir." "Ah, indeed I Is it an hereditary complaint in your family, sir?" "Not that I ever heard. It does not prevail in this country to any great extent, and is becoming a more rare complaint yearly." "Is it possible? To what cause do you attribute this remark- able circumstance, sir?" "I really am unable to explain it," answered the visitor, begin- ning to feel bored. "Perhaps the climate" He was interrupted by the opening of a door opposite to him, which let in a stream of light from an outer room. It was a fleeting illumination, for the person entering closed the door as she stepped within the parlor. Both gentlemen arose. "Mr. Argyle--allow me to present Mrs. Rasheigh. My dear, we are, as you know, greatly indebted to Mr. Argyle for his valuable service to our daughter yesterday." The lady's white face and hands were all that Malcolm's eyes, blinded by the late passing light, could immediately distinguish. She was tall, and arrayed in dark or black robes, and this was the extent of his discoveries concerning her until she had been seated some moments. "We were engaged in an interesting conversation, my dear," said Colonel Rasheigh, in his pompous, deliberate voice. "Mr. Argyle encourages me to hope that my troublesome inheritance, the gout, may not be a perpetual enemy in this salubrious climate. NEMESI S. 229 It would be a singular coincidence, sir, if the emigration from the land of my fathers, resolved upon by the advice of Mrs. Rash- leigh's physician, Sir Humphrey Asbury-you may have heard of him, sir? - Malcolm owned his ignorance in this respect. "t Sir Humphrey Asbury-a skillful and popular practitioner, sir-should, I say, eventuate in my own recovery from a painful and tedious disorder. But I am detaining you, Mr.- Argyle"- with a Grandisonian bow and wave of the hand. "I detain you from the conclusion of your observations upon the causes of the decline of this ancient disease among the citizens of these United States'." "Not at all, sir 1" rejoined Malcolm, growing more and more restive for liberty and silence. "I merely suggested that the climate might'have something-to do with it. I know very little of the gout or its treatment." "It was Sir Humphrey Asbury's opinion, in which he was sup- ported by the celebrated Dr. Arbuthnot-You have some acquaintance with his fame, perhaps, Mr. Argyle?" Fortunately, Mr. Argyle was able to reply in the affirmative. "An eminent man, sir, he was Ha re-mar-ka-ble man I It was the belief, sir, of both these distinguished physicians " Again that blessed ray of brightness beyond, and a rush of cool air with it. This time, the door was left open. "Good morning, Mr. Argyle.!' said Katherine, walking up to him with a modest, frank grace, that was inexpressibly charming. Without consulting Colonel Rasheigh's dull, grey eyes, or his own previous determination of distant politeness, Malcolm shook hands with her. "Have I the pleasure of seeing you quite well to-day? be inquired. "Have you suffered any inconvenience from your adventure of yesterday?" "No-how could I? It is I who should make inquiries of page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230 N E M F. S. you. Are you sure that you did not strain your arm in drawing poor Thomas from his 'Slough of Despond?' I described the exploit, in detail, to papa, last night, and he was much concerned lest you should have over-exerted yourself." "It was an unnecessary fear. I am none the worse for what you pertinaciously dignify into an exploit. And, in reciprocating civilities, we are forgetting the only damaged individual of the trio. How is your groom, in mind and body?" ' Happily convalescent." Katherine laughed as joyously as if the room were not hung with dark green, and her stately 'father and silent mother were not within hearing. "Gay feathers make gay birds ; and his spirits have recovered their usual pitch at the assurance of the laundress that his livery is not utterly beyond hope." She had remained standing while addressing and replying to Malcolm, and now turned to her mother. "Mamma I did you deliver my message- my petition to the gentlemen?" "I did not. It escaped my memory." "We await your ladyship's commands," said Colonel Rasheigh, with heavy gallantry. Katherine courtesied in mock gratitude. MalcoWm's inward simile was of a fawn sporting with an elephant. "Then, will it please your worships to walk into the other parlor? It is lighter and cooler than this"'-throwing an im- patient look- around it--" less like a funeral state-chamber, if you will pardon my candor, papa." He would 'have frowned at her depreciation of his pet apart- ment, but her witching smile mollified his displeasure. The "other parlor," was the ladies' sitting-room. India matting was spread upon the floor; white dimity curtains, with wide fringes, shaded the windows; there were three work-tables, with gay covers, and upon each a glass containing wild flowers; low chairs NEMESIS.. 231 and foot-cushions stood about, in convenient confusion, and in one window was a linnet's cage. Mrs. Holt, in her dove-colored dress, was waiting to pay her respects to the visitor-very mild and very prim. She was no more the presiding genius of this cheerful and tasteful home-bower, than was the cold, stern-fea- tured woman who waved Malcolm to a chair, in a line with that which she selected for herself, as if the use of her tongue would compromise her habitual haughtiness. Owing to the situation assigned him, inadvertently, as he imagined, he could not get a fair view of her, except by wheeling around half-way in his seat; nor was the temptation very powerful while Katherine was facing him. The more effectually to break up the stiffness of a group whose component members were so uncongenial; she had resumed her work, the netting-box, with its ivory shuttle and threads of spider- like fineness. And) as her fingers flew, eyes, tongue and smiles were weaving a pretty tissue. of quaint fancies and sprightly wit, that, hanging about her father's harangues and her governess' "elegant extracts," relieved the dullness of one and the pedantry of the other. "She is an original, and a- pleasing variety in the dead-level silliness and affectation ofi her sex," reflected the ungallant listener. "The miracle is how she has resisted the influences of society like this. I should-as soon have expected to find a sweet- brier growing in a vault. iShe never got that soul from the father," surveying the John Bull visage, with its double chin and flabby eyelids ; its master-trait being solemn self-conceit. "Was the etherial spark the mother's gift?" He was inspired by a curiosity to pry into the mystery. Push- ing his chair back tlat he might see her, he accosted Mrs. Rash- leigh : "'You have hardly had time to give our climate a thorough test yet, madam!" page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 NEMESIS . X The faintest tint of rose suffused the lady's wan cheek. It might be of displeasure at the unceremonious address, for she averted her eyes in replying. "'I presume not.;) "Have you ever visited our continent before?" "Yes "--she seemed to steady her voice. "I was in America once-many years since-in my youth." "You never told me that, mamma!" cried the impulsive Katherine. "Did I not?" It was all she said, and her daughter understood that for some reason she was not to prosecute her inquiries. Malcolm too desisted. The reserve be had- cultivated in his own demeanor'did not dispose him to sympathy with kindred qualities in others. ( If this unsocial dame fancied the part of the "proud ladye" in the ballad, he was not the man to interfere with her'masquerade. He considered that his overtures had been frank and gqntlemanly. She saw fit to repel them, and in their succeeding interviews, should any such be set down in the book of their future, she must lead off in conversation-not he. Again, a thoughtful ride and a slow, along the forest road. Again, reason demonstrated his discomfort, martyr as he was, to the irrational conventionalities of the society to which he was a professed outlaw; victimized by pride and prosiness and untimely displays of learning-and again, feeling gave the lie to every representation ; refuted every argument. "The cause is plain. enough," he uttered, so emphatically that Sprightly pricked up her ears,-' "It must be the likeness to poor lost Bessy that makes me notice and think of the girl." And he got down from his horse to pluck a spray of sweet- brier waving beside the path. It was fastened in his bosom, and transferred thence to a glass of water in his room that night. He did pot inquire of Reason or Feeling why he did this. N E M E S I'^. 233 CHAPTER XVII. THAT his whimsical brother-in-law had changed his mind, Mr. Moreau was informed by his appearance on the night of the party. The room was a: third full of company when he arrived. Marcia Carrington was gossiping with Jessie Hunter in a corner, when a buzz went around from group to group, and directed the eyes of the early friends to the entrance-door. "A resurrection 1" commented one lady to another. "More likely a reconciliation!" replied a gentleman who over- heard the remark. "They say that, lately, Moreau has spent half his time at Ben Lolond." "He might do worsen!" said a bystander, significantly; and both gentlemen laughed a little, at which the ladies looked puzzled. "Whyl there's Malcolm, I declare!" exclaimed Jessie. "What is going to happen? Eleanor told me that she did not believe he would come, Isn't it funny? He hates parties awfully!" I Marcia's cheeks tingled with conflicting emotions. It so hap- pened that the next person with whom Malcolm met, after pay- ing his respects to the. host and hostess, was the burly planter who had been the guiltless Paris to his Helen. In the benevolent pity of his heart, the worthy husband threw as 'much cordiality as his kind, red face was capable of expressing, into his salutation, and his hearty tones swelled above the murmur of other voices. "Happy to meet you, at last, Mr. Argyle I Upon my word, page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 ,E S I S. I have despaired of ever getting better acquainted with you. My wife will be glad to renew the friendship that once existed . between you, I am sure. Come and speak to her-won't you?" Marcia was not sensitive; yet she was ashamed, as she noted how general was the attention and ill-concealed amusement which this movement excited. When Mr. Carrington puffingly pre- sented "an old friend, my dear Marshy" (we spell as he pro- nounced), " whom you will be glad to meet again," her voice was cold and constrained, while her face was on fire with 'con- fusion. "I met Mr. Argyle two weeks ago, at church," she said, and stooped to pick up her fan. Malcolm bent for it before she could touch it, and returned it with a politeness as easy as hers was embarrassed. "Htw are you, Jessie?" he said, shaking hands with the sister he Sad not seen before in months. "As weak and sick as I can be, to keep on my feet," she rejoined, plaintively. "I ought not to be here to-night. I shall pay for it, and dearly too." "I hope not!"Her brother took a seat beside her. "And the latest Nimrod I how is his Littleness?" The play upon her married name was not new to Jessie, or she would not have comprehended the allusion. "He is very well!" she answered, animatedly. "If he were not asleep, I would take you up to see him--and you too, Mar- cia. He is a monstrous child of his age. A perfect beauty- like the Argyles, too I My other children are all Hunters." 'Fond of children, Mr. Argyle?" asked Mr. Carrington, agreeably. . "You would not believe me if I were to say 'No,' Mr. Car- rington.' "Upon my word, you came near the truth there, sir!" returned the bluff planter. ': I have no respect for a man-indeed I can- NE M ESIS. 235 not conceive of a man who has any soul, not loving the dear little things-bless their hearts!" "You are still delicate then, Jessie?" said Malcolm. "Delicate I yes, and always shall be!" she sighed. A sadder wreck of a fair and fresh beauty could hardly have been imagined. Her comeliness had never had the appearance of fast colors, in her best days. It was too dependent upon the gloss and curl of her abundant locks ; her eyes were too pale in their blue ; her skin too ready to betray the rise and fall of the blood. She resembled now a picture that had faded out. Her hair was thin, and lifeless as tow; the blue irids weire so light as to be scarcely distinguishable from the white surrounding them ; and in the sunken cheeks there were sallow spots where once the blush-rose had flourished. She had suffered certainly from bodily ailments; but more from what was the aggrav*ion, if not the chief cause of these--a hypochondria, as sedulously nursed, and paraded with as much pride as were the children, multiplying discouragingly about her knees. Her brother's unwonted interest in her, and in the late arrival, gratified her exceedingly. The Providence that helps the lame and the lazy had helped her to a man far higher in the scale of probity, and in easier worldly circumastances than Eleanor's acti- vity had secured for herself. Under his influence, Jessie had grown more amiable, if not more disinterested.- Silly and vain she was by nature, but the gentle loves of home had softened the ill-temper she had mostly acquired fromn, an exercised upon, her sister. Weak in action and vapid in conversation she must ever remain, and since she had claimed a place on the invalid list, she was particularly tirpsome, as Malcolm was made to feel, without waste of time on her part. She was desirous to entertain her brother. As Mr. Hunter said, "they had enough bread and butter of their own to fill the babies' mouths, without playing boot-licks to a relation who was so unfortunate as to have no page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 N E. E IS. I family to spend his money. Let Eleanor have it, and welcome, Jess I It would be a pity to have all her work thrown away." Jessie submitted outwardly-inasmuch as she refrained from allusions to her sister's schemes and conjectures about Malcolm's wealth, in the hearing of her husband, and did not gainsay Elea- nor's insinuations as to the legitimate destination of the patri- monial estate; but sometimes she waxed malcontent at this cool surrender of her rights. Malcolm's flattering notice of her on this occasion, reanimated slumbering ambition. What was more reasonable than that-she should be his favorite sister? She had never thwarted him, injured his friends and quarrelled outright with him, as Eleanor had done. The baby was not named. She would beg Mr. -Hunter-she would insist, as the mother had a right to do-that the cherub should be called Malcolm Argyle. People said that Malcolm would never marry, since Marcia had treated him so badly, and it did seem improbable. What-if hei were to adopt his namesake nephew? Eleanor had dreamed of the same -thing in naming her second child; but there were no signs yet that her wishes were true prophets. These thoughts swam in her soft brain, while she was endea- voring to relate the leading symptoms of her infirm health; and Malcolm, seemingly lent an attentive ear, his eye resting mean- while, as by accident, upon the door. The Rasheighs were to remain all night at Montrouge-the Moreaus' residence. This was Eleanor's arrangement, in order to secure the attendance of Mrs. Rasheigh, who was fearful of the night air. They had been detained on the road by an acci- dent to the harness of their carriage, and having to dress at Montrouge, were therefore rather late in appearing below stairs. Eleanor had circulated, industriously, tales of their social distinc- tion in England, and the paternal affection felt by the uncle for. Mr. Moreau, of Mrs. Rasheigh's elegance and the daughters beauty -and accomplishments. These things, working in the NEMESIS. 237 imaginations of the other guests, together with the fact that they were collected here to do them honor, created a sensation, when Eleanor advanced eagerly to salute the distinguished strangers. Colonel Rasheigh, in white silk stockings, knee-buckles, lace upon his ruffled shirt-bosom, and, a streamer of broad black rib- bon flowing down his back, from his powdered queue, was as impos- ing as he intended to be. Mrs. Rasheigh was dressed in grey silk, silvery in lustre and rich in fabric. The-laces of her cap, neck- ^ dress and sleeves were exquisite as the production of fairy looms; and a brilliant diamond star pinned the transparent folds at her throat. She was the Cynosura of every eye ; but pale, tranquil in her gravity, she appeared utterly disregardful of the curiosity ; respect and admiration that she kindled. Katherine came in with her governess. Her dress, of white gauze over pink silk, was pretty and girlish, whiles it befitted the daughter of a man of Colonel Rasheigh's reputed wealth. Among her dark tresses, was woven a wreath of sweet-brier--leaves and blossoms, Mal- colm marvelled at the coincidence of his fancy and her taste. "How very odd i" he thought, smilingly. "I will ask her, some time, how she happened to select that flower." "Those are Mr. Moreau's rich relations-are they not?" asked Jessie, "I am dying to see them!" "Be so good as to move aside a little, Mr, Carrington, if you please," said' Malcolm. "Now, Jessie, look and live!" "What superb' laces 1" ejaculated Mrs. Carrington, in the subdued tone of intense awe. "There is a small fortune in that dress of Mrs. Rasheigh's I And those magnificent diamonds I See how ,they shine, Stanhope 1" "The daughter's eyes please me better than the diamonds do, my dear," replied her husband. "Ah, Mr. Argyle 1 there is a prize worth a hard race. What a chance for you young men!" - "Who -are fortunate in not having Mr. Carrington for a com- page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 N E M E S I S . petitor," was the pleasant rejoinder. "One whose apprecia- tion of beauty is so lively, could not but be a formidable rival." Mrs. Carrington's vanity would have been more pleased, had her jilted suitor remained silent at the-considering- all things-malapropos remark of her spouse ; or had he replied in any other style than the jest, with which he moved away. It testi- fied with mortifying clearness, that he was no longer haunted by tender memories of her. ' The genuine spirit of English reserve with regard to household concerns, prevailed at Briarwood. Hence, Malcolm's rescue of Katherine's groom and his subsequent call were unknown, as yet, beyond the limits of the estate. Eleanor watched her brother, as he gradually approached the young heiress ; saw his bow and her smile, and construed this, as well as the conversation that ensued, into an exhibition of his desire to strengthen the restored family peace, by amity with its more remote members, and Katherine's friendly disposition toward her cousin's connections. She had a passion. for diplomacy, and no sooner was the idea lodged in her mind that her gentlemanly. and wealthy brother might be an efficient ally in obtaining for her a footing with her husband's high-born relatives-might, by exalting the Argyles in the sight of the aristocratic Colonel, dispose him to generosity to the nephew, who. had nobly maintained the family dignity in his marriage ; no sooner had this tempting bubble caught her eye, than her thoughts darted after it, with an ardor that ought to have- brought success. Amid the distractions incident to her hostesship, she kept vigilant guard' over her intended engine, dreading every instant to see him retire from the field and relapse into his habitual unsocial ways. He was more merciful-as she told her husband, in one of their hurried conferences: "Malcolm is really behaving beautifully. Was it your visit to N E 1MC E' S I S. 239' him, the other day, that has worked this miracle in him? You are getting into favor at last, my dear." She swept on, not staying to witness the effect of this choice sugar-plum uponr her liege lord. Possibly, the grimace. he exe- cuted when her back was turned would have taught her, had she seen it, that there are secrets, as welt as accidents, in the best-regulated households. Malcolm finally resigned his place by Miss Rasheigh's side to a gentleman who had solicited her hand for the dance, then form- ing. He was standing near one of the deep windows--a looker- on of the merry mazes-when his sister sailed up to him. "Malcolm, have you forgotten how to dance a Scotch reel?" "I do not know. I suppose that I have," he returned, gazing at her more intently than was needful or comfortable to her, con- scious, as she was, of a double purpose in the proposal she had on her tongue. But she had a bold face always at her command--" matchless effrontery," as Malcolm denominated it. He had not believed that even those fearless eyes could sustain his meaning look, after the humiliation she had lately undergone at his hands. A side glance showed him Mr. Moreau, not far off, trying to carry on a gay conversation, while his eyes were upon the brother and sister, in an agonized suspense Malcolm understood but partially, and Eleanor did not see. "In blissful ignorance of the letter burn- ing in her husband's pocket, seeming to throb .against his guilty heart, her mask was less elaborate than Malcolm supposed. "I have been making inquiries among our friends, and am dis- appointed that so many declare themselves unable to go through the figure. Colonel Rasheigh requested me to get up the set, and I promised. It is Katherine's--Misa Rasheigh's-favorite dance, too. What a pity!"' . Malcolm did not reply, although she paused' to afford him the opportunity. She resumed - page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] 240 N E ME S I S. "I thought that you wduld perhaps lead her out-just this once-rather than the plan should be spoiled. You used to excel in this dance." The artful compliment doubtless conquered his scruples, for his features relaxed. "Very well," he said. "If you only need me to complete- your number, and Miss Rasheigh will. accept me as a partner, I will break through my rules and oblige you." "Thank you --thank you!" in raptures with herself and him, "Shall I be the bearer of your compliments to dear Katherine?" "No. I will prefer my suit in person.' - "Who of us has not a weak side?" said Eleanor, secretly. "I never yet saw a man whose head could not be made to whirl by a judicious touch of flattery-nor one whom I could notQ manage." The obliging brother kept his word, and his request meeting with a favorable response, he stood up in the next dance with 'Katherine Rasheigh. He performed his part with spirit, having stipulated beforehand that his partner should correct the mis- takes that would inevitably arise from his want of practice. He designed making one or two accidental blunders, to bear out his assertion of awkwardness, but forgot the premeditated deceit before he had been once across the floor. Katherine danced as she talked-gaily and unaffectedly, and her airy motions, joined to the lively badinage she exchanged with her, companion, were the cause of his remissness in not carrying out his .laudable scheme. She charged him with the cheat, as he offered his arm at the close of the set,.and received, for vindication, the assurance that he had: mistaken, the direction wherein his deficiency lay. He was- certain that the intricacies of a country dance would baffle him. "If you would have evidence of my veracity, and are not timid about being laughed at for the stupidity of your partner, try the next' with me. I engage that you shall be convinced." N E M E S I S. 241 "Not the next. Your sister's guests will have cause to com- plain of my monopolizing your attentions. Let me see! I am free for the sixth set. Will you have that, instead?" He took her tablet and wrote down his name. "Now," she said, "I will go and sit down by Mrs. Holt and rest, during this dance. Mamma does not like me to keep the floor too long at a time, so I always reserve'rests' in my list of engagements." "You do not seem to be fatigued." "I am not. Mamma says that it is hardly kind or civil, in a large company, for the same person to dance every consecutive set, while there are others excluded from the amusement by want of room." "Select a partner for me--will you not?" asked Mr. Argyle. It had just occurred to him that she might be the subject of. invidious remark if he danced with no one else, and what her plea for his sister's guests could not effect was done through cousidera- tion for her. She refused, laughingly, supposing him to be in jest, until convinced, by his positive manner, of his indifference to the various representatives of the gentler sex present. As many married, as single ladies danced, and the same rule applied to gentlemen. .Mr. Moreau was the most active Terpsichorean on the floor ; Mr. Carrington' adipose tendency warned him not to' attempt the brisk Scotelf eel ; but he omitted no other chance of enjoying himself in this manner, and displayed excellent taste in his choice of pretty partners: His wife was ;in full dress- rather juvenile for her matronly pretensions, but she had been in- vited to leave her seat only once, in the four dances which had al- ready been performed. She appeared dull-low-spirited-thought Katherine's kind heart, and she pointed out to Malcolm, where she sat, by Jessie; whose eyes and thoughts were all for the par- ticipants in the exercise from which her ill-health debarred her. "Most of the younger ladies appear to be provided with part- " page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 N E M-E S I S. ners; but perhaps Mrs. Carrington would like to dance. She seemed fond of the. pastime, I thought. She stood next to me in one set." Malcolm started, and bent a searching look upon her ; then, as- sured, by her ingenuous countenance, that there was no covert sig- nificance in her selection, he obeyed her hint. -Marcia crimsoned painfully at his invitation, and arising, gave him her hand with- out a word. Untrammelled by one remaining fetter of the chains he had once worn, he pitied her, in the calmer, happier mood, whose dawning was, to him, like the commencement of another life, and he endeavored to dispel her discomfort. Conscious, all the while, that he was doing a thing he would ridicule on the morrow, and even while he did it, quarrelling with the motives that put him to this useless trouble, he chatted fluently and pleas- antly of mutual acquaintances; items of neighborhood news, and other topics likely to interest her. His charitable labor ended by the close of the set, he re-conducted Mrs. Carrington to her chair; talked a little to her and to his sister, and committed himself to the crowd, that in due season, cast him at Miss Rasheigh's feet. Mrs. Rasheigh had traversed. the rooms once; submitted to countless introductions; been gazed at by everybody-while her proud, still face gave no sign that she took particular heed of any person or thing there. "Are you not weary, my dear madam1" interrogated the anxious hostess. "I am slightly fatigued 1" she rejoined. "Then, let me entreat you to take this chair. I hid it in the recess on purpose that you might not want for a resting-place. "You are very'thoughtful, madam 1" said the gratified Colonel. "Mrs. Rasheigh is greatly obliged to you." Mrs. Rasheigh confirmed his statement by a -bow, and took the designated seat. The two windows, at this end of the room, were in deep embrasures, formed on one side, by the jutting fireplace, NEMXESIS. 243 and by the wall, on the other. Both recesses were profusely ornamented, as were the rest of the doors and windows, with green boughs and flowers, so that when Mrs. Rasheigh entered the retreat prepared for her, she was in a leafy alcove, whose hang- ings screened her from the notice of the throng, without obstruct- ing her view of the revellers. The Colonel, satisfied that she was established in the ease and seclusion she loved, willingly acceded to her proposition that he should mingle, and make acquaintance with his neighbors. And, conspicuous amidst the moving forms, the lady descried frequently, his portly figure, like a royal seventy- four, with the king's colors flying at the mast-head, cleaving the vari-colored billows that heaved against him on every side, with- out altering his steady course. Two gentlemen separated themselves from the denser mass of the crowd, and drew near the shaded window. They were Mr. Moreau and a younger man, not more than eight-and-twenty, pert in physiognomy, consequential in bearing and foppish in dress. He smiled incessantly and talked rapidly. "And just as fortune is beaming upon you, at last, you turn saint!" were the first words Mrs. Rasheigh overheard.- "You have sharper sight -than mine, if you can see any liht," rejoined Mr. Moreau, discontentedly. "The sky is as black as ink to me." "Nonsense, man. What more would you have? A rich uncle drops down out of the clouds at your door, with more money than he can possibly dispose of, and recognizes you as the male heir of his line. A rich brother-in-law opens his heart and purse, in the hour of need; and pays up to the last farthing, the debt that you swore would ruin you, and neither wife nor the world is any the wiser for your thmporary difficulty. You are unreasonable I With a brace of such backers, you may dive in more boldly than before." Mr. Moreau shrugged his shoulders. page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 N E M E 8 I S. "I tell you, Sancroft, I have had a fright that will last me a life-time, I hope. I only pray that I may be safely over it." "Oh, if you have taken to praying, I have done I 'The de'il gat sick, and he a saint wad be i' .I shall represent your case at our next club meeting." In common with most other men of weak minds and principles, Moreau was nervously sensitive to ridicule. He-laughed, in a silly way: "It behooves every prudent man to look to the future," he said, confidentially. "You set a right estimate upon the value of my uncle's purse and countenance. Let me whisper to you, my boy, that if he had an inkling of the proceedings in your office-loft, on court-days and between times, he would put me out of his house and will forever. He is crazy on this subject. It would appear that this little weakness of mine is a legacy from some dead and gone uncle, who blew his brains out, after a night of unlucky play. His brother detests the sight of a card. You must have observed, that there are no whist-tables here, to-night. The old Israelites never swept the house of leaven more anxiously than did my wife our premises of cards, the day she was instructed -with regard to this foible of our venerated relative. I must be circumspect. As to Argyle-that door is barred, bolted, locked and the key thrown away I I stretched my conscience to the utmost in the manufacture of the story that got me that cheque, and, I am afraid, his credulity into the bargain. Then, he holds my bond" . "Pshaw I he won't press you for payment." "Maybe not; but the thought that I am in his power, nettles me. He has a keen eye of his own, that goes through a fellow like a knife. Good gracious 1" Another shrug. "No, no I Ican squeeze no more blood out of that turnip!" "Very well. You are the best judge of your affairs, and what is the safest course for you to pursue. Only, the fellows will be disappointed when we come up minus a hand. N E M E S I S. 245 I must look about for a substitute. What a lovely girl your cousin is 1" A restless movement of the unseen listener would have betrayed her proximity, but for the music, which struck up a lively strain at the- moment. The conclusion of the remark and Mr. Moreau's reply were rendered inaudible by the same cause. Mrs. Rasheigh judged them to have been a request for an introduction to her daughter, and an acquiescence on the part of the host, since they proceeded directly toward Katherine. Tus, it came to pass, that when 'Malcolm sought the spot where he had left Katherine, in the chaperonage of Mrs. Holt, he beheld Sancroft, jr., playing the fascinating at her other ear. A dark flush crossed the face, until now open and genial. For one second, he was rooted to the floor with indignation; for two more, he meditated forfeiting his engagement and retiring from the house that afforded shelter to one he, loathed as the basest of noxious things; then he went forward and reminded Miss Rash- leigh of her promise for the following set. A lady passed in between them, as he was about to take her out. "Mamma 1" said- Katherine, in surprise. "Are you alone? Will you have a seat? Here is mine P" springing up. Her mother took it. "Thank you I Before you dance, let Mrs; Holt loop up your sleeve. You have lost a knot of ribbon, I see." The gentlemen instinctively looked about under their feet for the missing article, and as Mrs. Holt'adjusted the gauze pnffings, Mrs. Rasheigh said, in an impressive undertone--"If Mr. San- croft asks you to dance, refer him to me." i The order was jst uttered, when the anticipated formula was conveyed in Mr. Sancroft's blandest tones and choicest phrase- ology. Katherine blushed with bewilderment and fear of giving offence to the" friend " of her cousin, for such were the terms of his presentation. f , , page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] NEMESIS. " Mamma," she stammered, imploringly. "I object to her taking the *floor again, sir, except to fulfill engagements already formed." There was no appeal from a sentence so coldly and firmly spoken. Mr. Sancroft bowed profoundly, to hide his vexation; Mr. Argyle, respectfully, with an unconscious show of satisfaction, and-they went their different ways. "Was her refusal a whim or over-prudence for her daughter's health, or can she suspect Sancroft's real character ?" wondered Malcolm. "I did not suppose that she could dissipate my unfa- vorable judgment of herself with so brief a remark. The pre- sumptuous rascal I" He ground his teeth. "Not if I can help it 1" was the exclamation they hindered from the hearing of those about him. Katherine caught the ireful gleam, and engaged herself in speculations as to her mother's prohibition, she imagined that- he must be pondering upon the same. ." You must not think mamma unreasonably strict," she said, timidly. "She means everything for my good. And, if she does seem too particular about the health that never varies from its original sound state, she may be pardoned, for she has only me to care for." "She is judicious. Do not fancy that I /question the wisdom of her restriction just now. No gentleman would." " Do you imply that Mr. Sancroft may feel slighted ?" inquired Katherine, quickly. "I imply nothing. Rest assured that he has no right to take umbrage at the conduct of your mother or yourself, and dismiss the subject. You are an only child, then ?" "Yes. I have never had either sister or brother I" she sighed. " And you long for them, do you ?" "Certainly. How can I help it ? When I was a child I often wept enviously at the happiness of my playfellows, who were gathered into families, while I was all alone." "Had you been situated like them your lot might have been less happy than it is now. Be content with the isolation that excludes bickerings and jealousies and feuds, the most deadly that rage upon earth." "You shock me. Can you mean that these spring up between brother and brother ?" "And between sisters and brothers. If there be unquenchable fire in this life, it is the flame of family dissension; the fierce scorchings of love changed to hatred. There are no outward pro- prieties to be overleaped; no forms of ceremonious approach to tear away, before members of the same household can grapple in combat; and if these are compelled afterward to abide together, the continual friction of angry passions, the frequent clashings of interests and' opinions, perpetuate the warfare." Your picture is a dark one I If I had a sister I should not quarrel with her. That terrible 'if I' How grievously it inter- fered with my childish dreams of how my twin-sister and I would talk, play, study and love together I No one suspected my folly ; vet half of my wardrobe was allotted to her; our baby-houSe'was common property, and three of the six shelves in the nursery book- case belonged to her. I actually almost deluded myself into the belief that she was a liing personage. 'Bessie is out walkingj!' I would say to myself, when I was alone in the play-room. And, as the time wore on, I amused myself and fed my heart by think- ing how she'would dance into the room, dressed in such and such a manner, and shout gaily as I ran up to kiss her. The shout and the kiss have never come I and I have out-grown such vivid day-dreams; yet I am neither too old nor too wise to cease wishing that Bessie were with me in every pleasure or sorrow." "Why did you call her Bessy ?" "I liked the name. I picked it up somewhere in my infancy. page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 2480 NEMESIS. Mrs. Holt says that I probably had a nurse who was called so, and who abbreviated Katherine into ' Kitty,' which neither papa nor mamm&a will allow now. I am much attached to both names. What is the matter, Mr. Argyle?" "Were you born in England?" demanded he, controlling him- self. "I was-in Devonshire. Why do you ask?" "I am a fitful, fanciful creature," he answered, hiding his chagrin by a laugh. "I once knew a Bessy and a Kitty, whom I loved very dearly, but whom I lost years ago. I was struck by the similarity of our taste for names. I have visited Devon- shire." "Which I have never done since I was a babe, at which time papa removed from the country." "I was there in 1800." "We were in Paris then, I imagine, for we spent several years abroad about that time. I have still the French primer in which I studied, with an inscription of my composition scrawled in great letters on the fly-leaf: 'Katherine Rasheigh, Anglaise, Paris, Mai dixieme, 1802. You perceive that I vaunted my nationality at that tender age." "Yet your patriotism should be of the most liberal kind. Born in England, partly educated in France, and now a resident of America I For your years you are the most thorough cosmo- politan I ever saw." ' Young trees bear trasplanting best,'i she replied, in as light a strain. "Is not that Mr. Sancroft talking with papa?" "It is." "He is not mortally offended, then." Her partner was not very far from this point, however. The Colonel, like a, peaceably-disposed bull-dog, eyed, over his double chin, the sleek puppy that barked for his entertainment; how fawningly, Malcolm well knew, and would, at tl at moment, have NEMESIS. 249 relinquished a quarter of his estate for the privilege of lifting him, by the nape of the neck, to the nearest window, and dropping him out. And, embosoming these varied and momentous .emotions; these plots and counterplots; these memories and hopes, the laughing, talking crowd rolled back and forth, as rocks the sum- mer sea, with its treasures of beauty and secrets of woe and terror, hidden under the sportsome wave. page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 N E E 8 I s. CHA PTEK XV 111. "WHERE are you going so early, mamma?" inquired Katherine, one morning at the breakfast-table. "I saw them getting the carriage out before I came downstairs." *' Your father intends using it, not 1," replied Mrs. Rasheigh. ': It is court-day," said the Colonel. "That tiresome court-day 1" uttered Katherine, impatiently. "It seems to nte that it comes round every week instead of once a month. What do they do there, papa? Is it anything like the assizes in England? And do the proceedings really interest you?" i My dear I one question at a time!" gently rebuked Mrs. Holt. "Well, then, papa, why does every man and boydin the county attend court every month?" "These' court-days I are to me a re-mar-ka-ble and interesting feature in the society and government of this State, said Colonel Rasheigh, addressing himself to the round of cold beef in front of him, and suspending the business of breakfast, that he might properly elucidate the subject. "A large concourse of people of all grades of social distinction, wealth and professions-as you, my daughter, well observe, old and young; the middle-aged .and the child repair thither, with a regularity and promptness that show how they prize these occasions. Not only the court-house itself--an insignificant building, allow me to remark.", The beef making no objection, he resumed, after a pause: "I am daily N E M E S I S. 251 more and more displeased with the crude and low state of archi- tecture prevalent among this population. The building is incom- modious--positively mean P" pausing again, with his condemnatory nod. "Entirely unsuitable for the purpose to which it is dedi- cated. It is crowded to excess, and upon the inclosed green surrounding it, the press is equally great. It is a phenomenon in social and civil life-a re-mar-ka-ble thing!" "But, what do all these people go there for, sir?" persisted the laughing Katherine, seeing that he believed that he had disposed of her query. "There must be a vast amount of litigation in this free and happy Union, if legal business is the great attraction." 'The Colonel looked surprised at the reiteration. He could not chide her ; yet he would have been "displeased " with such slow- ness of apprehension in any other person. "I thought I had explained to you,:-my child, that there were trasactions of many kinds carried on in these assemblages. They assume different phases at different times; political; commercial, litigious and friendly. In Great Britain they have no popular gatherings that correspond with these in frequency and enthusiasm. My dear, my coffee is cold I May I trouble you for another cup? The carriage is ready, "did you say, Thomas? Very well, Thomas!" Not even the indulged child was to interrogate him further. He buttoned up his surtout, hot as was the day ; grasped his thick, gold-headed cane, and marched off to the coach-and-four in waiting for him. "Mrs. Holt l" said Katherine, with a mixture of archness and perplexity. "Have you any idea what these court-days are " "*My impression is, my dear Miss Rasheigh-derived from Colonel Rasheigh's graphic description-that they are a species of minor A ssizes." : "Combining the several characters of the English s the Irish fairs and the Scottish family trysts!" subjoined her pupil, page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 52 N E M R S I S. She would have been incredulous had she been told how true to the life, was the picture she meant to be a caricature. The small village was but little larger than it had been twelve years before, and to-day was swallowed up by the crowd of men, vehicles and cattle. Droves of sheep, oxen and mules rent the air with discord, and wandered blindly, in their fright,- into by- lanes and house-yards--everywhere except in the appointed way, which was to make for themselves a passage through the living sea, surging in the crooked road, yclept, by courtesy, a street. For a quarter of a mile along each approach to the village, horses were picketed in the corners of the fences or tied to the trees, many of them with a basket or a loose heap of provender placed before them, that they might consult their own convenience as to dinner-time. Vehicles of every pattern under the sun, from the two-wheeled "tumbler cart," with its shake down of straw in the bottom, to the massive, handsome chariot from Briarwood, jolted and rolled over the highway. Colonel Rasheigh never designed to make an offensive show of personal importance. The idea, that, by following out the dictates'of a pompous taste, and continuing in his present loca- tion, the state- and circumstance he had been accustomed to prac- tise at home, he might offend, instead of render respectful his republican neighbors, would have appeared preposterous to him. He had been the great man of a retired country district in Eng- land, anpd without debating the case, either with himself or with others, who might have bestowed a salutary caution, he counted confidently upon taking the like stand here. So, as his blooded leaders tossed their heads and champed the bit, that restrained their high step to a slow-walk, through the blocked-up thorough- fare, he sat, serene' in self-consequence, surveying, with the interest of a philosopher, the "social phenomenon," that had constituted the the e of his breakfast-harangue-feeling the angry and jeal- ous glances shot at him, from time to time, about as much as a N E M E S I S. 253 rhinoceros would arrows from a .child's bow, as they rattled against -his hide. Alighting, with the assistance of his footman, upon the wooden steps of the tavern, he was met by his nephew, and the younger Sancroft. "I have been on the watch for you, this hour," said the former. '"Both speakers are here, and as you perceive, so are the hearers." "A remarkable spectacle, indeed i" observed the Colonel, help- ing himself to a pinch of snuff, as he overlooked the agitated human stream rushing and roaring toward the court-green. "This is a very demonstrative-I should say, a remarkably exci- table population, Mr. Sancroft. One would imagine that there was some unusual event in prospect." "Why, my dear sir!" exclaimed Mr. Moreau. "Have you forgotten that we are to be addressed to-day by the candidates for this congressional district?" "I remember perfectly," answered the Colonel, tapping the gold lid with a coolness that irritated the .heated spirit of his nephew almost beyond control. "But I had supposed that elec- tions were very orderly scenes in the United Colonies-I would say, States."- - "They may be generally, but there are immense issues at stake now, sir," replied the smiling Sancroft. "If you will trust your- self to my guidance, I will endeavor to place you in a position where you can form your own judgment as to our. native orators. I do not promise you the finished eloquence of your British palia- ment-neither a Chatham nor a Fox--but you will bearit-n mind, if you please, that we are yet in our infancy." He fastened himself to One armof the Colonel; and Moreau took the other, and by pushing and sidling, undertooktto tow himi through the breakers. 'Very unaccommodating- breakers they were I In spite of his protectors' efforts, more than one demthra- tic elbow was jerked into the Colonel's back and chest/wi : a / page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254- NEMESIS. concussion that made him gasp and gurgle, and deepened his florid complexion to purple; more than one hob-nailed heel left its imprint upon his gouty foot. Finally, he was intrenched from such assaults, in an angle, formed by the court-house steps with the wall, and his pilots, perspiring and breathless, took off their hats to wipe their streaming brows. "How do you feel, uncle?" inquired Mr. Moreau. "As well as I can feel, after the ordeal I have sustained," replied the Colonel, in offended dignity. He would have added some strictures upon his initiative experi- ence in republican usage; but was prevented- by a vociferous cheer, that arose from the throng as from the throat of one man. Obeying the direction of all eyes, Colonel Rasheigh shifted his position to gain a view of the upper step against which 'he had been leaning, and beheld, almost within arm's length of him, one of the rival speakers of the day. He was a man in the prime of life, with a steady, far-seeing eye, and a countenance as resolute as his mien was courteous. The distinguished leader of the party he represented, and rendered fearless by past successes, he was yet to fight to-day, upon an untried field; to couch lance against an adversary, than whom the country held none more formidable ; one who, dashing like a comet into the political firmament, had caused congresses and administrations to quail at his terrific splendor ; who swayed the hearts and opinions of audiences with a single sweep of his finger; the hitherto invincible conqueror of every opponent who had the daring or presumption to meet him in the district he arrogated as his peculiar dominion. Whatever, at this remote period, may be thought of the justice of his cause, the courage of the man who now, stood gallantly forth to battle with the Achilles, deserves our honorable mention. His exordium was studiedly dispassionate. He sketched, with a free, bold touch, the main outlines of the history of colonial NEMESI S. 255 wrongs under foreign oppression ; the revolt; the declaration of independence, and the struggle that secured it ; the treacherous peace on the side of the mother-country, and the confiding trust of the emancipated daughter ; the tricks, the subterfuges, the overt and unatoned-for outrages of which the stronger nation stood convicted ; the stagnation of commerce; the stint in money and the very necessaries of life, to which the people of the still feeble republic had been subjected by the odious policy of her ancient enemy. He painted her a crafty, bloated spider, watch- ing her unwary prey; weaving here a line-casting there a noose -biding,' with' gloating eyes, the season when, exhausted and paralyzed, the victim should- be hers, without a hope of-release. He was warming with his theme, and his audience heard him with tightening breath and clenching fists. By a skillful transi- tion, he brought before them, in glowing contrast, the different course of another government ; the France, which had lighted- the - torch of liberty at the altar of the western world; the blood of whose nobles had dyed the battle-fields of our own land; the nation whose hail of "God speed i" had not, from the moment she heard the cry of our fainting armies, ceased to sound across the waters that separated her shores from ours. He reminded them that the wonderful- man, who now held the balance of her power; bore the same emblem uppn his imperial standard as that which guarded our national ensign, and, as if he recognized a bond of relationship in this coincidence, his -friendly feelings for the States had ever been unequivocally manifested. The banners bf France had been draped in mourning for the'death of Americans deliverer, and his character was cherished in holy esteem -by that people. Coming down to'the present-day ; taking up the immediate ques- tion at issue, he showed how France had, at the appeal of Ame- rica-impoverished and distressed by the edicts; and orders in council of the belligerent powers-generously revoked those decrees of her eilactment, whereby the neutral commerce of the page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 N EM-E SI S. innocent sufferer was violated; then, indignantly opposed to this, the stubbornness, the greed, the malignity of Great Britain, in withholding the concession for which many thousands of her own subjects were petitioning. This was the virtual point at stake, he said--an ignominious and ruinous peace, or courageous warfare with the despot, whose milder yoke their fathers had torn from the necks of freemen. Politicians might mystify voters with words without meaning ; electrify by flights-of stirring eloquence ; quiet with false assurances of peace and safety, and mislead their minds to dwell upon subordinate themes ; but here lay the truth-and in truth and soberness, in the sight of Heaven, he had dragged it to the light and spread it before them. He ceased; and from the heart of the throng went up a mad roar, like the bellow otf an angry Vesuvius. "Free trade and sailors' rights I Free trade and sailors' rights!" "Eppes foreverl-- "Down with the aristocrats 1" "Destruction to the British everywhere 1" "t Robert, what did that fellow say?" called Colonel Rasheigh, into his nephew's ear, and pointing with a cane shaking in his dis- ,pleasure, at a man, who was pealing this last cry. "Never mind him, unlel He is crazy or drunk." "I am displeased by his behavior, Robert. It is highly dis- respectful and unbecoming t' "For Heaven!s sake { shut his mouth, or-he will be mobbed!" said Sancroft, apart to his friend. "These creatures are ready for anything. - They will never hear Randolph, I am afraid." The statesman had a juster appreciation of 1his influence over his former constituents. He had been their glory too long to be slighted even in the hour when passion was lashing patriotism into fury. The roar became a murmur--the murmur died hoarsely away - SE M E SIS. 257 into stillness, when he mounted the rude rostrum, and stretched his long right arm toward Heaven--it might be to enjoin silence -it seemed an appeal to the Supreme Judge to prove the sincer- ity of his address, the purity of his intentions. Tall, and thin to attenuation ; his beardless face cadaverous as that of a corpse; an age of carking care and anguish stamped upon features, over which forty years of real life had not passed-he stood thus for a moment, waiting to be heard--the supernatural glow in his deep, dark eye alone evincing the ardor with which his mettled- spirit flung itself into the arena of conflict. His voice, when he parted the livid lips to speak, sounded hardly louder than the sighing of the-summer air through the trees shading the multitude, yet every syllable was distinctly audible upon the outskirts of the throng. Soft, sweet, susceptible to the slightest variation of emotion as a woman's-it rose and swelled into clarion strength 'and resonance as he proceeded. Some of his earlier periods, the caustic and inimitable irony with which he assailed his opponent; his allusion to past services as a guaranty of future fidelity, were cheered by his adherents ; but as he entered upon the discussion of the main subject, the interest was too rapt for noisy demonstra- tion. Men lost all sense of individuality; knew not whether they stood or breathed-only tht they saw and heard, and no one looked at his neighbors to note the effect of the torrent that carried him along withersoever the magieian listed. Personal enemies he had many, in the assemblage.; No-man of his day had more, and their- virulence was commensurate with the insults he had heaped upon them. Venomous, unscrupulous and irreconcilable-these were traits whose possession he never denied, and which his eulogists vainly strove to cloak under the convenient names .of eccentricity and morbid irritability.- -But however' obnoxious he might be in private life, the most bitter foe there dared not cast a stone at his political honesty. Mistaken he might be; impetuous and headstrong he was-spurning inter- page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 NEMESIS. ference and resenting censure; but, before deceiving others, he must be thoroughly deceived himself. No glittering pledge of preferment, no threats of public disgrace or popular defeat, could allure or intimidate him to barter or compromise his principles. On this ,occasion, he knew full well that his was the unpopular side of the question then agitating the country to its foundations. He saw before him a populace, smarting under private losses and privations, as well as national indignities. In the breasts of the young burned the desire for vengeance and conquest; the veins of the old were scarcely cooled after :tle hot struggle of the Revo- lution; while men of deliberative middle age looked to the suggested war as a preferable alternative -to the paralysis of trade and impure fermentings of the mass, in which such dangerous ele- ments were working. Yet he controlled all; and the mastery gained-while he spoke, his thoughts- were theirs; his declarations the proclamation of one inspired with more than mortal wisdom. The lungs that had raised the cry--"Destruction to the British!" heaved with answering animation to his vindication of the slandered mother- land. The- fiery youth who beheld in the French conqueror the apotheosis of human greatness-the sublime realization of his dream of the self-made man--felt his lip curl sympathetically at the withering denunciation of his hero. "Why this unnatural hatred of England? Strange I that we should have no objection to angy:ether people or government, in civilized or savage countries-:the whole world I The great autocrat of all the Rusvsia?;,isives the homage of our high' consideration; the Dey of Jl:rs and his divan of pirates are very civil, good sort of people, with whom we find no difficulty in maintaining the relations of peace and amity; ' Turks, Jews and infidels ;' barbarians and savages fof 'very clime and color, are welcome to our arms ; with chiefs of banditti, negro or rmulatto, we can treat and we can trade. Name, however, but: England, NEMESIS. 259 nd all our antipathies are up in arms against her. Against whom? Against those whose blood runs in our own veins; in common with whom we can claim Shakspeare and Newton and Chatham for our countrymen ; whose form of government is the freest on earth, our own only excepted; from whom -every valuable principle of our own institutions has been borrowed; our whole civil and criminal jurisprudence; against our fellow Pro- testants! identified in blood, in language, in religion, with our- selves. In what school -did the worthies of our land-the Wash- ingtons, Henrys, Hancocks, Franklins, the Rutledges of America, learn those principles of civil liberty which were so nobly asserted by- their wisdom and valor? And American resistance to British usurpation had not been. more warmly cherished by these good men and their compatriots ; not more by Washington, Hancock and Henry, than by Chatham and his illustrious associates in the British Parliament. And let it be -rememberedr that the heart of the British people was with us . ... "But the ' outrages and injuriesI of England- Bred up in the principles of the Revolution, I can never palliate, much less defend them. I well remember flying with my mother and- her new-born child, from Arnold and Phillips ; and they had- been driven by Tarleton and, other British Pandoors, from- pillar- to post, while her husbandwas fighting the battles of his country. The impression is indelible on my memory, and yet dike my worthy old neighbor, who added seven buckshot to every car- tridge, at the battle of Guilford, and drew a fine sight at his man), I must be content to be called a tory by a patriot of the latest importation I Let us not get rid of one evil, supposing it possible, at the expense of a. greater.- Suppose France in possession of the British naval power, and to her the trident must pass, should England be unable wield it-what would be your condition? What would be the situation of your sea-ports, and their sea- faring inhabitants? Ask Haniburg, ask Lubec, ask Savannah! page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 NE ME I S. When their privateers are pent up in our harbors by the British bull-dogs, when they receive at our hands every rite of hospitality, from which their enemy is excluded ; when they capture, within our waters, interdicted to British armed ships, American vessels; when such is their deportment to you, under such circumstances, what could you expect if they were the uncontrolled lords of the ocean? -Had those privateers at Savannah borne British com- missions, or had American shipments of cotton, tobacco, ashes, and what not, to London and Liverpool, been confiscated and the proceeds poured into the English exchequer, my life upon it I you -would never have..listened to any miserable wire-drawn distinctions between 'orders and decrees affecting our neutral rights ' and ' municipal decrees ' confiscating in mass your whole property I You would have had instant war I The whole land would have blazed in war I' "And shall Republicans become the instruments of him who has effaced the title of Attila to the 'SCOURGE OF GOD V Yet, even Attila, in the falling fortunes of civilization, had, no doubt, his advocates, hisl tools, his minions, his parasites, in the very countries that bhe. -overran-sons of that soil whereon his horse had-trod--where grass could never afterward grow. Would that I could give utterance to the strong" detestation which I feel toward (above all other works of the- Creation) such characters as Zingis, Tamerlane, Kouli Khan, or BONAPARTE I My instincts - involuntarily revolt at their bare idea--malefaCtors of the human race, who ground down man to a mere machine of their impious and bloody ambition. Yet, under the accumulated wrongs and insults and robberies of the last of these chieftains, are we not, in point of fact, -striving to' become a party to his views-a partner in his wars? Is it so, then, that the last Republic of the earth must enlist under the banners of the tyrant?. Must the blood of American freemen flow to cement his power-to aid in stifling the last struggles of afflicted and persecuted man-to deliver up into NEM E H S IS. 261 his hands the patriots of Spain and Portugal-to establish his empire over the ocean, and over the land that gave our fathers birth-to forge our own chains I "And yet, my friends, we are told, as we were told, in the days of Mr. Adams, 'the finger of Heawn points to war!' Yes! the finger of Heaven does point to war t a, It points to war, as it points to the mansions of eternal misery and torture ; as a flaming beacon, warning us of that vortex which we may not approach, but with certain destruction. It points :to deso- lated Europe, and warns us of the chastisement of those nations who have offended against the jpstice, and - almost beyond the mercy of Heaven. It announces the wrath to come upon those, who, ungrateful for the -bounty of Providence, not satisfied with the peace, security and plenty at home, -ly, as it were, into the face of the Most High, and tempt His for- bearance " For two hours, not a man stirred from his place, or raised hand or voice to interrupt the fiery torrent that broke over the multitude, with the might and fury of a mountain ---flood. The thrilling tones ceased to be heard; the weird-like visage no lon- ger flashed its lightnings among them; the shadowy form swayed no more in their sight, at the will of the potent- spirit within it, a1 instead of the: clamorous outhurst that had marked the close of his opponent's peroration, there was, a deep-drawn sigh, from a thousand bosoms, such as men heave when the rum- ble, the, shaking and the crash of- the- earthquake- have passed- and they wonder at the life it has spared to them. "A remarkable speaker V" said Colonel- Rasheigh, regaining his breath with a sStertorous effort. "I should like to make his acquaintance. A man of sound views and re-mar-ka-ble endow, ments I If. perfectly agreable to him and to yourself, Robert, I shall be pleased, if you'can introduce me, in the course of the day. As a Briton, I desire to express my approval of his sonti- page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 NEMESIS. ments with regard to that country, likewise of the masterly style in which he exposed and condemned the intrigues and outrages of that low-born upstart, who calls himself the French Emperor." The idea of the Colonel's contemplated patronage of the haughty and sarcastic Randolph was too much for Sancroft's risibles. He fell into the rear to indulge his merriment, while Moreau could not refrain from smiling. "If it can be brought about, I will certainly comply with your request, sir ; I think, however, that Mr. Randolph will not remain in the place to dinner. He detestspublic tables." The words-were not off his tongue, when the crowds wending their way to the principal house of entertainment, parted to the sides of the road, and between the divided ranks, drove a light phaeton, drawn by a pair of magnificent blood-horses, groomed with a nicety, that made their coats shine with silken lustre, and stepping like cats, their dainty hoofs hardly touching the earth. The master had the reins and was the sole occupant of the car- riage. Pale, joyless, alone-his dark eye held no ray of triumph, his sallow cheek bore no trace of the emotions tha t had so lately stirred mightily in his soul. Neither in his, ardnic, yet mourn- ful physiognomy, nor in his bearing, that hi ev i something of defiance mixed with its hauteur, was ther iscmnible a trait of the popular leader. What other politiciay soqght- to gain by urbanity- and flatteries, he demanded from: as-the tribute they owed to the- right of his cause. -Petty ads: he disdained, and trampled under -foot the amenities and cotsies that are com- monly esteemed powerful engines with the xsses. - 'This was the man, who, with the exceptini of one brief inter- regnum-and that caused by the very elements that were now at work throughout the country-remained,.f0, upward of thirty years, the representative of an intelligent constituency--" such as no other man ever had,;" received the highest honors from his !' ' NE MESIS. 263 own government and distinguished favors abroad, the anomaly of his age and of our country; the statesman,- whom men caressed and upheld, while they hated and dreaded the private citizen, at once the most gifted and the most bereaved, the most fortu- nate and the most unhappy actor in the exciting drama of the times. Peace, say we, to the lone sleeper in the shades of Roanoke I Now that the stung and stinging spirit has passed from the earth he found so wintry an asylum, in his desolate misanthropy; that his faults, many and inexplicable-the virtues, that, to a few chosen intimates, redeemed and' glorified his character, have met with their reward from his Judge and ours, let a grateful posterity remember his honest and earnest labors in his country's behalf, and cast the mantle of charity over a nature, which in his own plaintive words, -"no one except the mother," early lost and always regretted--" ever understood!" Colonel Rasheigh replaced the hat he had raised in stately punctilio, as the carriage passed. The crowd sent a cheer after the departing orator, and dispersed to other business. "Paxton" was still' upon the sign that swung before the vil- lage inn. The- house had been enlarged, and a row of thrifty poplars planted in front of it, A long, low portico, stretching the length of the building, was supplied with benches, and served as a reception-room until dinner was ready. This'event was an- nounced by the ringing of a bell-in the hand of an ebony butler, who stalked up and down the' piazza, deafening those who were near, and summoning many who were afar off. "Mother Pax- ton," now in her sixty-fifth year, officiated as mistress of table ceremonies. She wore her court-day livery--a black dress, white apron and neckerchief, and a cap, whose starched crown was half' a yard high, and whose ample frill rested lovingly against a face as rosy, -and but a trifle more wrinkled than when we last beheld it. At the' head of the room. enthroned in his easy-chair, his rheumatic limbs laid carefully upon a cushioned stool, was the page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 NE M E I ME S. nominal Boniface, replete with good humor and wise saws, and willing, as ever, to credit his " ole woman" with the same. "How are you to-day, Mr. Paxton?" said Malcolm Argyle, pausing beside him on his way from the table. "Middlin' fine, Magter -Malcolm ; nothin' to complain of, and everythin' to be thankful for. As my ole woman says to me, no longer ago than this identickle mornin'--says she, 'You might be better, but you might be worse,' and it's as true a s Gospel, sir. You're lookin' mighty well, Mr. Argyle. I don't remember seein' you in sech looks in years. What have you' been doin' of, to freshen you up so sudden?" "Eating one of your wife's good dinners. She outdid herself to-day. Tell her that I said so--will you?" The old man rocked with his hearty laughter. "I will, sir-I will I She will vally the praise now, because it's been so long sence you've went out of your way to say sech a thing. And you enjoyed your vittles? Well, though I say it, as shouldn't say it, my ole woman is hard to beat at a roast, a stew or a barbecue, and our Susy's comin' on jest sech another:" "Where is she? I have not seen her in a: great while.? "That's because you are never here only court days. You see, sir s---inking his voice to a Wheezing whisper-" she's gettin' X to be a tall slip of a gal-nigh 'pon sixteen-and the ole woman doesn't think it fit for-her to be in the big room o' public days. 'Taint our intention fur to make a fine lady of her, though we'll leave all our children Somethin', please the Lord I That 'ere 'nonymous present we had ten years ago, come Christmas, gave us a lift, and we've kept up. You've no idee yet who sent it, I s'pose?, "None whatever." He had answered the same question in substantially the same terms at least fifty times before. "About Susy, as I was sayin'. My ole woman has her notions N E M E S . -265' about modesty, and what's right and proper for gals. Not that the ginerality of our company ailt well-behaved gentlemen, but, says my ole woman ' Gals' faces shouldn't be too common ;' and she keeps her in the background like, you understand." "I understand ; and shows herself to be a prudent mother." "Jest my sentiments, Mr. Argyle I They tell me Mr. Ran- dolph made a grand speech to-day, sir," he added, as Malcolm was about to move on. "A reg'lar out-and-outer, I've heerd say . . "If he does not take care, such speeches will be 'out-and outers' in good earnest to- himself. The people are getting unruly with the embargoes,-non-importation bills, and the like abomina- tions, that are killing home and foreign trade." ," Yon don't s'pose that Jack Randolph will ever be beaten in this district!" exclaimed the old man. "Whar will they ever find sech another man?" - "Nowhere; but principles are worth something as well as men-particularly where so much is at stake." "You are for war, then, sir?" "I would fight, rather than submit to robbery, and so would you, Mr. Paxton l" "Talking politics, Argyle 1" said Mr. Hunter, coming up, as the last sentence was spoken. "How could we speak or think of anything else here and now?" returned his brother-in-law. . "True enough I This is the most excited meeting of the cam- paign. Between Jack Randolph and apple-jack, those fellows outside have not a sober brain amongst them. Hear them-will you? What a plausible fellow Randolph is I I thanked my stars when he was through, that I had not a vote in this district. It would be cast for him, to a dead certainty, much against my conscience as it would be." "Yet it is clear to me that Eppes had right on his side," 12 page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 266 N E M E S I S. replied Malcolm. "And autrocrat though Randolph is in this community, there is an under-current beginning to turn against his views, however -eloquently he may set them forth. Another year like the last, of foreign injustice and home distress, and the people will think for themselves-aye I and vote as they feel 1" The tumult without increased. Oaths and yells and angry voices, in fierce dispute arose higher and louder. The gentlemen worked their way slowly to the door. "And that is the way they feel-is it?" said Mr. Hunter, as the rallying-cry of the war-party split the air. "Free trade and sailors' right's 1" "Down with the British aristocrat 1' roared a pair of tre- mendous, lungs in the heart of the press, that filled up the porch. to Mr. Hunter's amazement, his calm, cool brother-in-law uttered an ejaculation, more like an imprecation, than anything he had ever heard from him before, and dashed into the mle6e. For an explanation of this movement, we must refer the reader to another chapter. NEMESIS. 26T *LNA CHaPTER XT , b COLONEL RASHLEIGH did hearty justice to Mrs. Paxton's bounti- ful cheer, although he ate it from plates of coarse white earthen- ware, edged with blue or green; carved his meat with a bone- handled knife, and helped himself to vegetables with a pewter spoon. In his own house, he was fastidious, but he had travelled enough to learn how to accommodate himself to traveller's--fare. His nephew sat on his right hand, and Sancroft on the left. Just across the narrow board were two other gentlemen, thp one middle-a: ed, the other young, who were saluted with great cordi- ality by the Colonel's companions, and introduced to him as Mr.- Woodson fand Mr. Blanton. A consP. .nt flow of talk was kept up between the two parties. The strrokers were profuse of civilities; versed in the leading topic . Ahe day, and expressed themselves like educated, intelli- gent mln. Of course, politics was the principal theme. The Colonel was deeply gratified at ascertaining that all of the four were Randolph's disciples, scouting at the platform of the war- party, as a visionary contrivance of demagogues for the destruc- tion of the simple and the credulous; ridiculing the vacilla- tions of the administration, its truckling to, and temporizing with the French gjvernment, and each trying to outdo the other, in lauding Great Britain; her steady policy and straightforward measures. "Rely upon it, Colonel Rasheigh, if the rest of the' States are so mad as to engage in an unnatural contest with the Mother, so page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 NE MESIS. recently reconciled, Virginia planters will never lend themselves to the iniquitous proceeding!" said Mr. Woodson, impressively. "Even in the War of the Revolution, there were many of our first fanmilies, who could not forget from what stock they had sprung. Many a good sword rusted in its scabbard, rather than its owner should bathe it in a brother's blood. And that was a strife for Liberty I How many more will remain inactive, when the fight) is to strengthen the hands of an alien- and unrighteous power-we shall see!" "I trust we shall not see 1" answered Mr. Blanton, gravely. "The storm has not burst yet. Madison has not the courage to declare war. Mark my words I The mountain will bring forth a mouse, direful as its pangs appear." Mr. Woodson gave an order to his colored servant, who waited behind his, chair. He vanished, and shortly reappeared, bringing a bottle of wine. "From my humble cellar, Colonel Rasheigh," said Mr. Woodson, as he inserted a corkscrew. "Will you honor me by partaking of it?" The Colonel bowed, and declared that he would be most happy to do so. "Fill your glasses, gentlemen," continued the owner of the beverage. "With your leave, I will propose a toast. Our excellent neighbor, Colonel Rasheigh 1 May the land of his adoption never give him cause to sigh for fair Albion's shores!" The Colonel was tickled in a vulnerable part-his propensity to combine, or, going further, to make identical each with the other, his amour propre and amor patrie. In a very set, very deliberate and very pompous speech, he thanked Mr. Woodson for his toast, and the rest for their kind reception of the same; andtwhen they arose from the table, " hoped to reciprocate the politeness very soon, in some choice old port he had brought with I \ 8 ! NEI MESIS. 269 him from the 'fair Albion,/ so flatteringly mentioned by the worthy gentleman." There was a little hasty by-play between the quartette, and Mr. Woodson was again spokesman. "You will not thank me for robbing you of your nephew's society for a short time, I am afraid, sir. But I have an appoint ment with him at the clerk's office, at this hour. We have in prospect a tiresome, yet a necessary task-a search, through musty records for an old title-deed to some property I design purchasing. In such investigations, Mr. Moreau's quick eye and clear head are often in request. j He kindly offered them to me, some weeks ago, and I engaged the clerk to assist us to-day." It did not occur to the Colonels honorable imagination- that this statement was needlessly prolix; nor, that the clerk's rightful place during the sessions of the court was in the court-room. How, then, should he discern anything suspicious in Mr. Sancroft's apology of a business engagement in his office, and Mr. Blanton's recollection of what he, had nearly forgotten in the delights of-the society he must quit, viz., that he had given a note six months previous, whose payment fell upon this day, and that he made it a point of conscience to pay up his debts punctually to the hour, to the minute, if possible, that they were due. Nor need these gentlemen have taken the pains to walk- off in directions diametri- cally opposite to one another. The honest old officer would have scorned to watch or dog them, had he mistrusted them never so grievously. Like a large-sized Sir Roger de Coverley, he stood near the centre of the piazza, erect against the wall, snuff-box in hand, contemplating the heterogeneous assembly, as the placid Knight of the "Spectator" might have overlooked a game of cricket among his peasantry. The formal debate of the candidates, exciting as it was, was by no means the warmest battle of the day. The Randolph men were page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 270 N- E M-ES I S. sanguine to exultation of their victory. Their leader had never experienced a defeat, and imminent as was this crisis, he had shown himself equal to its emergency. Whatever shakings of spirit their opponents may have suffered, they maintained a bold front, and: some affected a braggadocio, bullying style, unwise, not to say presumptuous, in view of the uncertainty of the sequel to their canvass. From time immemorial, the bottle has been the/lefficient ally of the doubting, desperate, or defeated politician -a curious circumstance in national physiology--by which the sagacious party-leaders now-a-days, have profited to an incalcu- lable degree, and the morality of their voters suffered detriment in exact proportion. Real apple-brandy does - not feed the flame of devotion to one's country so rapidly as do vitriol and log- wood; old rye whisky will not metamorphose a clodhopper into a Curtius so readily as does strychnine; but pure liquor answered the desired purpose pretty well in the slow old times, when inven- tion was in its cradle. Men began to stagger as they talked, and those who had been cautious in declaration, now became declaim- ers. Consipicuous among these, was a fellow of Titanic build, and a, brutal, scowling face, in whom Colonel Rasheigh recog- nized the man, whose shout of "Destruction to the British everywhere 1" had stirred up the British lion in his pacific breast. An involuntary frown crossed his features at the remembrance. The man stopped short before- him. a What are you makin' faces at?" he growled, with an oath. "What brought you here, I want to know? Why didn't you stay where you belonged? Maybe somebody wanted you there I Nobody does here, I can tell you. If I had my way, I would rid the country of the likes of you. Come here to ride over our heads in your coach and four, and your white niggers, you proud old Tory tyrant " "Are you speaking to me, fellow?"' demanded the Colonel, his dignity and choler rising together, until, but for the stiff comfort NEME8I6. SI t. within, his assailant must have withered down into nothing at his tone and aspect. "To be sure I am a-speaking to you, old ' fellowI'" 'mmaick- ing his accent. "And I say, you ain't wanted about here. Wle ain't got enough to live on ourselves-and all along of your 'orders in council,' and your 'non-importation,' and: such foolery. You never heerd of such a ship as the Chesapeake, have you?" "That has nothing to do with the subject in hand, which is your unprovoked impertinence to a stranger, and a gentleman 1" retorted the Colonel. I wish you to understand distinctly that your language and manner displease me, and that, I command you to desist." The bully broke out with a storm of imprecation and abuse. There was a rush and a crowding toward them, and every man, according to his apprehension or misapprehension of the case, contributed his share to the uproar. The watchwords of both parties were exchanged; taunting epithets heaped upon English, French, and Madison, until it was an impossibility for the trucu- lent boor, with whom the wordy affray had originated to distin- guish himself longer by words alone. In his drunken malice, he strutted close up to Colonel Rasheigh, and swearing a great, sounding oath, shook his fist in his face. The Colonel retaliated by a blow from his stout oaken cane, that would have upset the brute, in his unsteady condition, had he not avoided its full weight by a lurch to one side. Before the bystanders could inter- fere, he fell forward upon his antagonist, and clutched him by the cravat. He had barely seized it, when he felt a mighty blowhehind his ear, and went down like an ox under the butcher's club. "Are you hurt, Colonel Rasheigh?" inquired Malcolm, anxiously. The Colonel had not wind to waste in talking, so he signified by a negative gesture,-that- he was uninjured. page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] 212 N E M E S I S. "And this is Virginian hospitality 1" said Malcolm, facing the crowd, his eyes flashing like blue steel. "This is the welcome you give the peaceable stranger, who would make his home in your midst? A brave and courteous set you are I to stand tamely by and see a ruffiai like that "--touching the reviving Goliah with his foot-" attack an unoffending gentleman, whose grey hairs would have been his protection anywhere, except from a monster and among barbarians! And these are the men who run mad about liberty of speech and freedom of thought-- who would direct the government of a nation I when there is not one of you who had the presence of mind, or courage to hinder a drnmikard's senseless violence I I am ashamed of niy State and of my county!" Goliath was upon his feet again, and, cowed and bewildered, would have slunk- away but for the interference of Mr. Logan, a neighboring magistrate, who, drawn by the noise of the fray, had reached the spot while Malcolm was speaking. He com- manded a constable to take the aggressor into custody as a dis- turber of the peace. "'Tother one hit fust!" called out a lover of fair play in the crowd. Malcolm could not help smiling. But, ludicrous as it appeared, since one Arrest had been made, justice required that both Colonel Rasheigh, and Malcolm should be summoned to answer for their' share in the affair. Mr. Hunter made an effort to seem grave as he offered himself as bail that they should be forthcoming when the matter was investigated, and the gentlemen were, left at large. Goliath was not so lucky in his friends, and was marched off to jail. The gathering, that had nearly been a mob, dispersed rapidly, its members abashed by the severe rebuke they had received and the resolute proceedings that followed, and most of them -heartily mortified at their irrational excitement and lack of courtesy toward the elderly stranger, whose only offence was his birth-place. N E M E S I S . 273 "This is your property, I believe, Colonel Rasheigh?" said i Mr. Hunter, picking up the end of the cambric cravat, which Goliath had torn off in his fall. "That rent was of your making, Argyle." "I beg your pardon for the damage to your dress, sir," said Malcolm, jestingly, to the Colonel. "I should have made the fellow let go before I knocked him down." 'I thank you sincerely, Mr. Argyle, for your timely inter- ference," said the Colonel, holding out his hand. "What a capital bruiser you would be-l" continued Mr. Hunter. "You have given Bully Bob the ear-ache, for one while, I will warrant ." Malcolm stopped the congratulations which annoyed, instead of pleasing him, by inquiring when the Colonel designed returning home. "Immediately, sir i-immediately i I have had a surfeit of popular assemblies." Mr. Logan endeavored to apologize for the rudeness that had been offered his person, by representing the extraordinary state of the jtimes, and the wild, lawless spirit that had taken hold upon men in all classes of society. The Colonel heard him through with visible impatience. "It is my opinion, sir, that a country and a society containing such disorderly elements; where quiet citizens are molested in the open day by ruffians; where the higher ranks and- lawfiul authorities of this and other and as respectable governments are animadverted upon, in the shameless manner I have observed here, on this occasion-it is my opinion, sir, that that country and that society are in a remarkable condition, sir--a truly re-mar-ka-ble conditionl' . And, bowing with an air of not-tovbe-appeased majesty, he entered the carriage which stood ready. "Do you go now, Mr. Argyle?" he- asked, seeing that Mal- colm's horse had also been brought around. 12* page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] 274 1FN E M-E S-I S. "Yes, sir. It is a long ride, and my only business here was to hear the speaking." "Oblige me by accepting a seat in my chariot," said the Colonel, throwing open the door. "I would like to talk with you. My footman will ride your horse." To refuse a request so flatteringly earnest would have been dis- courteous; yet Malcolm could not allow the bulky Thomas to bestride his pretty Sprightly for a ride of fifteen miles. "I will, with pleasure, take a seat with you, sir," he rejoined; 'but there is no need that my mare should be ridden by any one. She will follow like a dog." "If it is not an impertinent question, where did you procure that animal, Mr. Argyle?" said the Colonel, removing to the front seat, the better to observe the graceful creature that trotted behind the carriage. "She was born upon my plantation, and is, I suppose, of as pure English stock as was ever raised in this country. He added her pedigree, to which the other gave the diligent heed of a gentleman jockey. "I have, within the past week, discovered a great defect in the horse which my daughter rides," he said. "He is going blind." "Indeed I I am -sorry to hear it." "Katherine does not know of it yet," pursued the Colonel. '( She is tender-hearted, and the horse was trained expressly for her.- If I. could procure another, as valuable for her purpose, as handsome and gentle, she might be reconciled to the parting with her pet." To the Colonel, there was nothing to wonder at, in the interest evinced by his hearer in this, or any other subject that engaged his mind. His daughter's horse ought to be an object of impor- tance in the eyes of any one whom he- honored by consultation respecting it. , . I N E' M E I S . W' f "It would be a pity if Miss Rasheigh were compelled to dis- continue her. rides," remarked Malcolm. "She appears to be very partial to the exercise." "It is my wish that she should practise it daily, whenever the weather permits. I should be exceedingly displeased to see her grow languid and pale, as many American women do, by con- finement to the house and sedentary employments." Malcolm could have replied to this slur upon his countrywomen, that English air and customs had produced as perfect a specimen of the inert fine lady in Mrs. Rasheigh, as the enervating climate of America, and the self-indulgent fashions, that were creeping in among her richer classes could manufacture ; but he forbore. "Mr. Hunter-my younger sister's husband, has a thoroughly broken lady's horse-the brother to Sprightly, there,':lhe said. "He bought him of. me, in the hope of inducing his wife to accompany him, in his horseback excursions, but he has not suc- ceeded; and, as he told me, the other day, he is willing to dispose of the nag. I will speak to Hunter, if you wish it, and have the animal brought over for your inspection." '"You are very kind, sir; I accept your offer, with many thanks. My nephew, Moreau, is likewise seeking a purchaser for his wife's saddle-horse. But I should not entertain for a moment the thought of buying him for my daughter, since Mr. Moreau's reason for selling him is that he is unsafe for a lady's use." "Unsafe I that is something new 1" "That such is the case, he nevertheless assures me. Either his servants are bad managers of horses, or he has been unfortu- nate in his selection of this kind of stock. I understaffnd that he has sacrificed several costly ones within a year because they did not suit him." - Malcolm examined the speaker's countenance for tokens of double meaning or- suspicion; but in vain. Stifling the-- expres; sion:of ls doubts as -to the truthfulness of Moreau's represeata- page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] NEMESIS. tions, he answered carelessly, that very good horses were easily ruined by improper management, and the matter dropped. They rode together to the outer gate of Briarwood, where Malcolm got out of the carriage and remounted his steed, sorely against the Colonels will. He had liked Mr..Argyle from the day in which he rendered his daughter a signal service, and the brave act of to-day had sunk deeper into his heart than Malcolm supposed it possible for any one to go. In this, he misjudged the Englishman's character. He was very grateful for his kind interposition, and inspired with profound admiration by Malcolm's spirited address to the mob. Ever since the occurrence, he had studied within his own mind, as to the most feasible and judicious method of testifying his conviction of the favor done to him, and of repaying the debt. His urgent request for Malcolm's company in his chariot, construed by the younger gentleman into a desire for society that might relieve the loneliness of the journey, was, with the elder, equivalent to the Arab's invitation to partake of his bread and salt, and cleverly intended as the preliminary to a more familiar and friendly style of intercourse. So, also, his conversation during the ride-most of which Malcolm considered the prosiest of long-drawn-out commonplaces-was a labored attempt to fascinate his fellow-traveller by the depth and variety of his-.information and the excellence of his colloquial powers, hoping thereby, to implant a longing for further acquaintanceship. He determined, especially, that Mr. Argyle should be his guest for that evening ; shuld receive the thanks of the ladies for his gallant deliverance of the husband and father, and Malcolm's surmise of this intention was one reason why he remained stead- fast in his refusal to go in. The Colonel was not to be balked by the modesty of his benefactor. After waiting a couple of days for a call from him, he ordered his gig and :drove over to Ben Lomond to renew his thanks, and to be the-bearer of an invitation to a N E M E S I S. . 27 dinner-party, which was arranged for the Tuesday of the week following. "I am going to make you happy again, Aunt Bab," said Mal- colm, entering her apartments, when the Colonel had gone. "And how's that?" "By going to party No. 2. The sacrifice is greater this time, too, for it is that most intolerable of civilized institutions-a din- ner-a ' dining-day,' as you call it." "Where at?" interrogated Miss Barbara, contemptuous, as usual, of grammar, provided she made herself understood. "At Colonel Rasheigh's." "Them Englishers agen? You like 'em, don't you?" "I have no cause to dislike them." Nancy Wilkinson says they're queer ; but mighty liberal and just to her, if they are stiff. All except the young lady. She's the merriest, affectionatest cretur that ever walked, instead of flewed." "Getting poetical, are you, Aunt Bab?" but there was a gleam of pleasure, more heart-felt than fun ever was, in his smile. The dining-day arrived, and a little before the hour designated by Mrs. Rasheigh's notes of invitation, Malcolm threw the reins upon Sprightly's neck, at the door of the Briarwood mansion. The double doors of the hall stood wide open, and Thomas, in the butterfly splendor of his renovated livery, took the hats and whips of the gentlemen, and conducted them into a side room, where they might remove the dust of their ride, and add the last' touch to their toilets. From this, Malcolm crossed the waxed and polished floor of the entry, to the great drawing-room. There were about fifty guests, but, in spite of a number large enough to have prevented formality, and the gay dresses and cheerful voices of the ladies, the " state funeral chamber" held its own grimly. There were no warm colors in the furniture to enliven the eye, and, on the wall, no flickering shadows and tinted lights.: All page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] mEMESIS. was dark green, except where the high windows showed parallel- ograms of the bright white noon without. Colonel Rasheigh greeted his neighbor with distinguished affability ; Mrs. Rasheigh gave him the tips of her gloved fingers and Katherine actually colored with pleasure as she put her plump hand in his. "I am glad you have come," she said. "Itwas unkind in you to stay away during all the days we have been wanting to see and thank you" "Hush -l said. Malcolm, releasing the little hand he felt a strange delight in holding. What if thoughts of those unmer- ited thanks had kept me away?" "You reject our gratitude I and Why?" asked Katherine, her blush a shade deeper with mortified pride. "I do not reject it. If the service I had rendered were at all commensurate with the reward, I could not be so generous as to deny myself the pleasure of being thanked by you." Here he caught sight of Mrs. Holt, standing apart, waiting to speak to him, and passed on to her. "Your heroism is the praise of all tongues, Mr. Argyle," said the governess. "If you allude to the fracas on court-day, it is not worth the mention of owe tongue, madam." He would have made a comment. on the weather, but she pre- vented him. Your mission seems to be to succor the distressed, in whatever condition of life they may chance to be." "Whether in peril from mire or mob," concluded Malcolm, glancing mischievously at Katherine, who was listening to them. A jest that required payment in -like coin was ever a " poser to Mrs. Holt, and Malcolm gained his end in accomplishing her silence. "But you deserve the quotation you 'cheeked, for having aso ' E M'E-S I a. 279 ruthlessly shocked dear, proper Mrs. Holt," said Katherine, after- ward. "You are ungrateful for her good opinion of you, or you would not have thwarted her propensity, in that unceremonious style." "She has a good opinion of me, then? How could she have gained it?" "As if such things were not to be had for the asking!" retorted Katherine. "I am tempted to do violence to your modest estimate of yourself, by repeating a line which she recited on the evening of court-day, after papa had finished his account of your prowess in his cause-versus Republicanism and Bacchus. 'My dear,' said she to me-' does not Mr. Argyle remind you of that fine line in the "Fairy Queen?" 'Wise, warlike, personable, courteous and kind?'" Malcolm bowed low to the compliment. ' A misgiving that her spirits had run away with her tongue visited Katherine, and she tried to amend her fancied breach of propriety. "You must understand that Mrs. Holt's life has flowed on very tranquilly.. Since the death of her husband, which event took place not long after their marriage, there have been no landmarks, worthy of the name, in her quiet existence. She has lived in her books and study, and a trivial interruption in the routine of every- day occurrences is an epoch of magnitude to her. I question if she ever had an adventure in the whole course of her life." "And have you?" inquired Malcolm. Her girlish rattle was like a strain of lively music to him, awak- ening feelings that made him young again. She made a gesture of feigned vexation. "Why force me to a confession of the unromantic monotony to which I have been doomed? Since you will have the truth-never I A personal adventure-one labelled, 'Katherine Rasheigh-her property, and flung directly at my head 'by the Fates-is a boon with page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 N E 3 E S I S. which I have never yet been blessed. I have had sundry narrow escapes from, or misses of godsends of this sort. Witness the quagmire drama, where Thomas defrauded me of the chance of playing heroine, by enacting the hero in the part that should have been mine." "Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Malcolm. "I, for one, am con- tent that we had a farce, instead of a tragedy." "Are you fond of theatrical performances, Miss Rasheigh?" asked young Sancroft, catching the words "-farce " and " tragedy." Ad Yes, sir ; although I have never seen above half-a-doten plays. We- were talking of the drama of real life, in this instance, how- ever. "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women in it merely players'--she, repeated; her peculiarly. arch smile at Malcolm reminding him whose pupil she was, while Mr. Sancroft thought it all right that a young lady, who had read Shakspeare, should quote him when she pleased. "I was'lamenting that I had never had an 'adventure,' she went on. "My horses are the safest and surest of that prover- bially uncertain race of quadrupeds, and my passage in any con- veyance whatever;,by land or sea, is as reliable a security against mishap, as is my presence a -protection to the building that covers me, against fire or tempest." "H appy indeed will be the mariner, in whose vessel you deign to embark,[ said- Mr. Sancroft, gallantly. "Fortune does not smile so constantly upon many of her votaries. I have had some hair-breadth escapes, from loss of life or limb, and you, Mr. Argyle, have, been even-nearer the land of shades. You recollect that terrible: fall from your horse some ten years ago?" "I have an indistinct memory of having been the spectator of a similar accident," began Katherine. -She paused, in dismay, at the unaccountable cloud that seemed literally to blacken Malcolms'sountenance. He made no reply to Mr. Sancroft's query ; only looked him in the eye for an instant; NE M E SIS. 281 then, bowing slightly to herself, turned away and mingled with the company. The girl hardly knew whether to be hurt or offended-and with one or both gentlemen. She was helped to self-possession by perceiving that her mother stood so near as to have overheard the conversation, and she was sure that, it would have- been ar- rested by some act or look of hers, had its matter or tone been offensive to the rules of good-breeding. Avoiding, with delicate tact, any reference to Malcolm's abruptness, she quitted the theme they had been discussing, for one more general in its applicationi Mr. Sancroft obeyed this intimation of her pleasure, with seeming alacrity, and exerted his utmost arts to render his companion- ship acceptable. He was a man of great shrewdness, and some native talent; was ambitious and cunning, and, scandal-mongers- said, a fortune hunter. In this last capacity, he had deliberately meditated' an attack upon the citadel of Miss Rasheigh's affections, -and this, his first invitation to her father's house, was to afford opportunity for the bombardment that was to begin the siege. His impudent ruse had driven off the only opponent he feared as a rival. He had counted upon Malcolm's aversion to him as an auxiliary in getting rid of him, should he be, what report affirmed--merely a friend of the family, and his unwonted attentions to the jyoung lady be paid at his sister's solicitation.- This instant abandonment of his post was a welcome corroboration of Dame Rumor's story, and as for black looks, he cared not a rush for them, nor for actual insult, when they proceeded, as in this case, from -a quarter in whiich he had nothing to lose. He was polite and rather amusing, Katherine decided,; but her instinct detected the want of- the refinement which early education may supply, in some degree, where Nature has not bestowed it, and the manner he th6o0ht vivacious, she objected to as pert. She-wished that Mr. Arg e had not looked so fierce,had, not left her to be entertained: by a page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 2-2 NEMESIS. man so much his inferior in every respect. She wondered why he had changed countenance so suddenly.. Probably, there was some feud between the two, yet surely, it was neither kind nor gentlemanly to display this dislike so plainly, when they were hoth her. father's guests. This train of speculation and unpleasant feeling, imparted to her face a more serious cast than it was accustomed to wear, and as she was too true a lady to appear abstracted, Mr. Sancroft drew conclusions of his own, from the quiet grace, the tempered liveliness, with which she attendee to his discourse. He devoted himself to her, with a burr-like pertinacity, despite her well-bred manceuvres to shake him off; or to drop him, in her course from group to group of visitors, and finally succeeded in his project of handing her into dinner. Katherine seated herself very com- posedly, and allowed him to take the next chair but, while he was rubbing his hands under the table-a boyish demonstration of glee the would-be fine .gentleman had not overcome-his fair one- arose, with a brief "excuse me," and tripped off to the remote end of the board. "Mrs. Iunter!" she said, in persuasive accents. "I cannot let you sit in this draught. Please exchange seats with me, I shall not have the spirits to talk, or the appetite to eat, unless you oblige me in this." Up got Jessie, in terror at the discovery of the draught, and pleasure at the marked consideration for her health, shown by the host's daughter. Poor Jessie I such attentions were rare now, except from her husband I And while Mr. Hunter, who had escorted his own wife to the table, conducted her to the place vacated for her, Katherine slipped into her chair, with the benign expression of one fortified by the consciousness of having performed a worthy deed, against the most murderous draught that ever stole in through a- window, on a summer day. Mr. Sancroft was not out generalled without protest. N EXEa . S I S. :283 "You would prefer a seat by -your wife, I know, Mr. Hunter-!" he said, jumping up. The merry planter laid his hands upon his- shoulders, anl he sunk, it seemed, under their weight alone. "Sit still, Mr. Sancroft I Myy wife was the belle of- the county when I married her, and she has, not forgotten how to chat with the beaux. So, go ahead, and do your best small talk for-her edification I It will console myself with Miss Rash- leigh, and try not to be jealous." This episode in, the feast, transpiring, as it did, in the awkward pause that succeeds the bustle of seating a large party, was observed by all in the room, and the husband's speech provoked a general smile. "I do not promise to say as many pretty things as Sancroft does, but I will grant you more liberty to talk to other people than he would have done," remarked Mr. Hunter to- Katherine, as he resumed his seat. "Painted sugar-plums are well enough in their season, but if I am' to have but one of the two, I like substantial edibles better," responded she, aside. The meal passed off handsomely, as regarded the various courses of dishes; tolerably, as to conversation and sociability. ,Brilliant it could not have been, with Mrs. Rasheigh at the head of one table, and" the Colonel at the foot of the other. Mr. Moreau was the vis a-vis of the former, and Eleanor presided, with lofty grace, opposite to the nfaster of the mansion. The dinner itself was a triumph of Miss Nancy Wilkinson's cuinary skill, and those whose current of thought and words was con- gealed by the un-American stateliness of the preceedings, found abundant consolation in the unexceptiontable material fare pre- sented to them. The Colonel's wines were one of his hobbies, and his gentle- men guests were unanimous in their approval of his taste. It is page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] 284 NEMESIS. to be hoped that these were not the only attraction that detained them in the dining-hall after the ladies left them, for it was nearly dark when they again sought the drawing-room. There were lights in the silver sconces over the mantel, and in the tall candle- sticks disposed on stands around the apartment. Katherine was at the piano, and a bevy of girls were dancing in the middle of the floor;. the elder ladies sitting by as spectators, and chatting over their own and their neighbors' concerns. For once, the dismal barn of a place was cheerful; the spell of its gloomy formality broken. The gentlemen selected partners, without delay, and the ring of dancers was doubled in'circumference. Katherine's piano was the marvel of the county, and her play- ing decidedly surpassed that- of any other lady in her circle of associates. Very many houses, belonging to the wealthy and refined, ini that section of country, boasted no musical instrument other than the spinning-wheel. In others, lutes and spinnets furnished practice for the accomplished daughters and music- loving wives. Some of the girls, whose feet kept faultless time to the inspiriting reel, had never heard a piano-forte before, and were not ashamed to confess it. Katherine evidently enjoyed her music, and the sight of the dance, and her happy face was pleas- ant to behold. Malcolm drew near, and stood, without address- ing her, watching her busy fingers. ' "Why are -you not on the floor, Mr. Argyle?" she inquired, looking up at him. He had hoped that his petulance--his downright rudeness- was forgiven or forgotten, but he was not prepared for the frank sweetness of her manner, which said that he had lost nothing in her esteem by his behavior. "I am hoping to obtain you as a partner," he replied, "I am sorry that your patient waiting cannot have the reward you ask. But I shall not dance at all to-night. It is mamma's request that I should devote my time to the amusement of our NEMESIS. 285' friends.- There are very few who like to play while others dance. I do--and what would be an act of self-denial in another, is a pleasurable duty to me. Shall I select a partner for you again?" "No, I thank you-unless you forbid me to stand here, and participate in your more quiet enjoyment of seeig -and hearing. I will not interrupt you." "You cannot-by talking I Hornpipes and reels slip of their own accord' from my fingers. If you are inclined to be com- panionable, say on i" Malcolm had to bend slightly toward her to make himself heard. "Before I can have either inclination or right to be 'companionable,' I must be certain that you forgive the unpar- donable manifestation of temper of which you were the witness before dinner." "Why apologize to me? I was not the object of your dis- pleasure." "Mr. Sancroft expects and needs no explanation. Of his deserts we will not speak. My only regret is that I forgot, in a moment of anger, the courtesy due to yourself in your own house. That I do regret it and feel humbled in the recollection of my ungentlemanly conduct toward you, is all that I can say to pal- liate the offence." "What more could I desire? Never give the trifle another thought, for I shall not. If you wish to make an enemy of me, your sins must surpass this in enormity and directness of appli- cation. A little faster, did you say, Mr. Hunter? Thank you for the hint. If my tune or time does not suit you, do not hesi- tate to let me know. Remember that I am playing for you, not you dancing for meh 4 The nimble fingers swept'on, and Malcolm gazed down upon them, with a strange, sweet happiness rising in his heart. -In that atmosphere of .music and light and mirth, was born to him, the consciousness of. his manhood's love. He could',no longer page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 286 NEME SIS. delude himself as to the nature of the sentiment he felt for Katlhe- rine Rasheigh. He had called her a child, and prated soberly to himself of paternal affection, when his heart warmed toward her; had sought in her resemblance to his lowly and lamented friends the solution of his yearning for the sight of her counte-. nance, the sound of her voice. The veil was torn away, and he knew himself to be the slave of feelings whose empire he had, for ten years, laughed to scorn. It is a moment fraught with solemn delight-with rapture, approximating to pain, when a man, who has outlived the quick- growing, shallow-rooted love of the boy, first acknowledges to his own soul, that the peace, the comfort, the joy of his whole being depends upon another; when the woman, hitherto only a valued acquaintance, it may be, a comparative stranger--is ele- vated to the throne of his heart; sanctified into the priestess of its most holy mysteries. Malcolm Argyle experienced more than this. It was, as if, by a miracle of mercy, the rocky cell of a hermit who had died to the world, when, for him, the torch of love went out, were suddenly enlarged and beautified into the loveliest of earthly abodes ; peopled with the hopes and the loves that made the dream-land of his youth a fairy realm; but now as real, as present and as perfect as were those visions chimerical, distant and vague. How it had come to pass, and how it was to end, he did not question, in the tremulous joy of the new self- revelation. He but realized that the lonely, blighted life derived solace and refreshment from the young, warm heart of this peer- less girl ; that the stern, cynical second nature he had made for himself was as the sculptor's clay in her hands, and that hencefor- ward, under Providence, it must be with him as she willed. N-EME s IS. 287 CHAPTER XX. MRS. CARRINGTON spent two months at her father's, and in visiting her relatives and friends in that vicinity. When she returned to her home, Eleanor Moreau accompanied her. Mr. Selden's plantation was contiguous to Mr. Moreauls, and the intimacy of the early play fellows was renewed with a fervor that was hardly in keeping with Marcia's quiet temper, or the indig- nation which Eleanor had expressed, and was supposed to have felt at Miss Selden's culpable treatment of her brother. But by- gonesr were by-gones with them. The two ladies met frequently ; compared notes as to establishments, husbands and children; exchanged fashions, and complained of their servants. Marcia remembered her girlhood with fondness, if not with regret, and was thankful to be reinstated in Eleanor's regard, and Mrs. Moreau being somewhat jaded by household cares, and wasted in flesh from the same cause, and the nurture of a stout baby, was on the lpok-out for an ecodomical and commodious visiting-place, wherein to recruit her strength and good looks. She took her youngest along with her, leaving the' other children, three in number, to the general superintendence of their father and::iith'* particular care of Sarah, who had been promoted to the dignity of "Mammy " to the promising brood. The change of air and scene was beneficial to Mrs. Moreau's health, and that ofJer infant, and the six weeks of her stay sped by very plesanty. Mr. Moreau was a poor correspondent. Eleanor had insisted upon one epistle per week, to inform her of the -children's welfare and page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 NEMESIS. give an abstract of the doings at home, and he was obedient to the letter of her order, without troubling himself to write jere- miads over his loneliness, or narrate neighborhood news. He had been lonely, however, he assured her on the afternoon of her return. She had performed the homeward journey in the company of an old gentleman and his wife, who were coming in their own carriage from the Carrington's neighborhood, to see a daughter settled near the court-house of Mrs. Moreau's native county. The weather was hot; the roads dusty; the child peppered with prickly heat, and as cross as-its mother 1 Her neat, cool house, swept- and garnished to do honor to its mis- tress' coming; her children's noisy greetings, and her husband's repeated declarations of his joy at having her back, were inade- quate to allay her irritable humor. Mr. Moreau took his baby- daughter from the weary nurse, and sat him down with it, like any woman, to essay the soothing process which had been ineffectual with his wife. He was an indulgent parent, and the little ones loved him better than they did the variable and cap- tious mother. He bathed Baby Nelly's inflamed face, neck and arms with. milk-and-water, powdered her gently, and called on Sarah for a clean frock. "Sarah is busy, waiting on me, Mr. Moreau. If you will make a fool of yourself with that child, there is the trunk I Get a frock, if you want one, and cannot wait." Mr. Moreau did as he was bid. The servants were too used to see him perform such offices to think of superseding him in the :elf-imposed task. He stripped off the soiled, creased slip, and arrayed his darling in one of white linen, spotless and smooth. Then, he brushed her matted hair, and telling her that she was "Iht papa's ownty, townty daughter," fanned her, while he reearsed the wonderful story, on her pink toes, of the "little pig that went to market." He was the- very " moral "-as the Irish say-of a patient husband; a pattern of amiability his better NEM E SIS. 289 half might have copied, with signal advantage to herself and family. He might have thought-as any other man would have done in his place-her temper unconscionably bad, when she must see that every effort had been made to secure her ease and happiness, and that she ought to have pretended, if she did not feel it, some gratification at rejoining her home-circle after so long a separation. But he said nothing, except to Nelly, until supper was announced. It was a delicious repast. Eleanor reflected, with pride, that she had seen nothing finer of its kind, during her absence, and that Marcia--let Mr. Carrington boast as he might, of her house- keeping-could not prepare anything to equal it, if the Queen were to -sup with her. This was a drop of oil upon the ruffled waters, and their subsidence, thereafter, was marked, although not too rapid. "What nice peaches these are 1" she remarked, graciously, as her husband heaped her plate and poured the thick, yellow cream over the fruit. "They are from Briarwood," responded Mr. Moreau., "Uncle sent over a basket-full to-day as a present to you." "Ah I that was thoughtful in him--very kind!"The peaehes melted lusciously in her mouth. "How are they all at Briar- wood?" "Very well." The cadence was not that of one who concludes a sentence; but Mr. Moreau, after -a perusal of his-wife's clearing countenance, apparently deemed it :best to rest there for the present. He dis- creetly barred his still open mouth with a spoonful of peaches, and- awaited an altogether convenient season for the communication thus stopped midway. , The sun had just disappeared .behind the woods when the early meal was concluded. The air was dry, and there was, as yet, no dew to dampen the gra^-so the children romped and rolled in - 13 page: 290-291[View Page 290-291] 290 r EM Er8 Is. the yard, and Mr. Moreau brought a couple of chairs from the house and set them against the trunk of a gigantic walnut-tree, that formed the principal feature of the place. Then, he filled the bowl of his pipe ; pressed down the fragrant weed with the handle of his penknife; summoned a diminutive Eboe to bring him a coal of fire, and was ready for a matrimonial tfte-A-tdte. "Carrington has a first-rate plantation, I suppose?" he said, by way of impetus to his wife's tongue. It was called a fine one, Eleanor admitted, and went into a detailed description of it-the number of acres; the proportion of arable land; the facilities for irrigation, and other items of information that bespoke the farmer's wife. "They have had workmen in the house all summer," she said, "pulling down and building up ; and it will, in the end, be quite handsome and convenient. Yet I do not think that Marcia has bettered her fortunes so much as she believed she was doing, when she jilted SMalcolm for Mr. Carrington. I had almost as lief have Ben Lomond as his place; and there is no comparison between the two men." "Indeed 1"Mr. Moreau withdrew his pipe from his lips and hemmed vigorously; but the premonitory signs of speech ended in smoke and a sigh. "I have a notion," continued Eleanor, complacently, "that Marcia has repented her bargain many a time. And it is not surprising that she should, for she was certainly extremely partial to Malcolm while they were engaged. It was all Mrs. Selden's work-breaking off the- match. She was afraid, she said, that Malcolm was ' flighty,' and would not keep the estate together after pa's death. I despise a mercenary, manoeuvring woman I Marcias could not avoid contrasting her two suitors, when she was here. I saw it in her manner, whenever she, was in company with Malcolm, and I have no doubt but that he noticed it, too, and took a malicious pleasure in meeting her. You recollect, it NEEMESIS. 291 was just then that he went abroad so much, and set everybody to guessing what had transformed him, all at once, into a ladies' man. All you men are alike. You cannot deny yourselves the glory of a triumph. Malcolm is eccentric in some respects, but he has the foibles of his sex." Now was Mr. Moreau's time. But again, resolution exhaled in a puff of smoke, so dense and strong that it curled up into the lower boughs of the walnut-tree. "Have you heard anyl talk of hard times in H ?" he asked. "They talk of nothing else, and the people are crazy for the war, which is to make a change, one way or the other." '"So they say here. If the election were to go over again, Eppes would stand a fair chance of being elected. Men are getting rabid under the money pressure. How we are to live, if this state of things continues, I do not see."' "Are you, more straitened than you have been before?' interrogated his wife, in an anxious tone. "Straitened I I am cramped-crushed-screwed down !" grinding his-heel into the sod to illustrate his meaning. "I do not understand why you should be. You have no heavy outlays at this season, and provisions are cheap, when our own plantation furnishes them." "We don't raise sugar, nor coffee, nor tea." "I am aware of that, Mr. Moreau!" The raised key in which she interposed this remark, recalled to the forgetful spouse's mind the propriety of discontinuing the habits of language and deportment he had indulged himself in, by way of variety, in his six weeks' holiday. "I mean, my love, that there- are incidental expenses all the time, each insignificant in itself, but swelling the total into a formidable sum." "Name som e of them," said the unrelenting Eleanor. ,*! page: 292-293[View Page 292-293] 292 N-E3BESIS. "Groceries," recommenced Mr. Moreau. "You had enough in the store-room to last until I got back. You and Sarah have been too extravagant I I knew just how it would be. What groceries have you bought?" "None, my dear;, Sarah is a very prudent woman. I was speaking of expenses that would yet have -to be met. The winter's clothing must be provided, pretty soon, too." i' When cool weather comes, we will think of that," said Eleanor, philosophically. "I do not comprehend how debts that you may be obliged to contract three months hence, can embar- rass you now. What special use have you had for ready money, of late?" "None, whatever, my love. Only "--growing pathetic--i'it humbles me to imagine the probability of your being compelled to deny yourself and the children, in dress and such articles of luxury as you have been accustomed to enjoy. I do not mind hardship for myself." "Oh, well!" his wife condescended to comfort him. "There is no telling what may happen to help us along. There is Uncle Rasheigh, with a strong box full of British gold, who will per- haps give or lend you any small amounts you may require, and cannot raise elsewhere. And Malcolm has grown more friendly of late. I don't believe he would refuse to get you out of a difficulty, if he were approached in the right way. What he does with his money I cannot imagine, unless he is hoarding it up. If we can ingratiate ourselves with him, our children will be provided for, and the prospects are promising for this at present." "He may have a family of his own," said Mr. Moreau, watching, a cloud sailing in the zenith, and speaking very indiffe- rently. -Yes, and the sky may fall. A confirmed old bachelor is the hardest being in creation to cure of his own notions, and NEMESIS. 293 Malcolm's disposition is -as stubborn as stubborn can be. His love affair with Marcia has soured him to such an extent, that no amount of sweet words and smiles will ever win his- heart. He told me once, that he would cut his throat sooner than risk his happiness, the second time, in a woman's keeping." "He may change his mind,", observed Mr. Moreau, stretching his body to one side, that his eyes might follow the progress of the fleecy vapor floating toward the west. "And you will upset your chair, if you tilt it in that ridicu- lous manner 1" said. Eleanor, tartly. "You might pay me the compliment of seeming to listen, while I am talking. My tongue has not annoyed you much lately." "Your tongue never annoys me, my dear. You were speaking of your brother, and the likelihood of his marriage." "The certainty, of his singlehood, you mean. You are- dull this evening, Mr. Moreau. I am exerting -myself to entertain you, after my fatiguing journey, and you have not said a word, except to croak about hard times, by way of raising my spirits. Is there no news in the county? Do wake up, and tell me something to keep me alive 1" "I -have heard but one piece of news, my love." Mr. Moreau's fingers shook, as he refilled his pipe. "That has created quite- a stir in the community. They say that your brother is going to be married." "They do I And you call that news I This is certainly the hundredth time I have heard it. Who is the happy woman in this latest edition?" "Our cousin, Katherine Rasheigh.,' "Because he dancedwith her twice at our party, and out of civility to Colonel Rasheigh, accepted an invitation to the dinner at Briarwood I A smaller spark has kindled a hotter fire than this, before now. Why, she is a chit of a girl, hardly out of the school-room--and he old enough to be her father 1:" page: 294-295[View Page 294-295] 29M NEMESIS. "So I told Sancroft" "Sancroft I what business is it of his?" "He would like to get her himself, I fancy; but is by no means so confident of success as he would be, were it not that her mind is divided by two suits at the same time." "Colonel Rasheigh will hardly bestow his only child upon a lawyer who has a reputation and a fortune to make for himself. He will look higher." "That is Sancroft's fear; but if he can get on the blind side of the old folks, he will make Malcolm tug for his prize, I can tell, you. He has the cunning and the daring of the Old Serpent-Sancroft has!" "You are complimentary to your boon companion. But upon what evidence do you and he ground the belief that Malcolm thinks enough of the prize, to 'tug' for it, as- you elegantly express it?" "He is over at Briarwood twice or three times a week; goes and comes when he likes, quite like one of the family. That, of itself, looks suspicious in a man who visits nowhere else. Then, Katharine's horse went stone-blind about the time you left us, and Malcolm crossed the river himself to see Hunter, and per- suade him to sell uncle that fine bay- of his, Omar, which he bought from Malcolm last summer. And as Katherine's groom is not thought altogether trustworthy, Malcolm offered his ser- vices as her attendant, until she should have tested her new horse, and he have become acquainted with her touch and voice. They ride out together, nearly every day. But I don't say they are going to be married--mind you I Only people will talk, you know." "This is a singular story," said Eleanor, thoughtfully. "Mal- colm's conduct is really extraordinary, and ought to be inquired into. She had coveted his-property so hopefully and so long, for N E M E S I S. 295 herself and heirs, had argued so plausibly for the perpetuity of his celibacy, that she had become a firm believer in her theory, and resented anything that threatened its stability, as an infringe- ment of her ownership. Seen in this light, the reported conduct of Malcolm and Katherine was reprehensible in the highest degree--a wanton tampering with the sacred-rights of another, and that other an absent person. This was not the purport, in words, of her reasoning, but it was its virtual substance. "Perhaps," she added, reluctant, doubtless, to convict her brother and her husband's cousin of such base want of princi- ple, " perhaps Malcolm pays court to the daughter for the father's sake." For the first-and we are credibly informed-the last and only time in his life, Mr. Moreau laughed in his lady-wife's face., "Why should he court the Colonel? They are as unlike as black and white; have not two ideas or feelings in common, and Malcolm cannot hope to wheedle the old gentleman into making him his heir, if he cared for money-which he doesn't. The way to get the estate is to take the daughter along with it, for she will have most, if not the whole of it. As to being neighborly, *Malcolm is as independent as a king toward everybody else about here; asks no favors, and wastes no civilities. I don't see why he should single out my uncle, to spend his politeness upon. I am sure it is not through love for us; for ne, at any rate. But I don't say they are going to be married 1" "You say they are together every day? "Almost every day, my dear!" corrected the husband,- gently. "Is this hearsay, or have you seen it for yourself?" questioned Eleanor, waxing sharper with each interrogatory. "I have seen- them several times, but heard of them oftener. Sancroft says" "Never mind Sancroft I Where and when did you see them in company?-what were they doing? and how did they look?" page: 296-297[View Page 296-297] 296 ' NrE M E S I S. Mr. Moreau replied promptly, but weighed each syllable, as he went along. "Imet them in the road through the Ben Lomond woods, yesterday afternoon, at half-past six o'clock. They were pacing their horses at an easy gait; the groom was a hundred yards behind them. Katherine looked very pretty; Malcolm looked very attentive, and they both looked as contented as-two kit- tens 1" concluded he, helped to the simile by the opportune scam- per of a young grimalkin across- the lawn, in chase of the children. "Robert Moreau I have you no affection for' your children I no respect for your wife?" "Good gracious, my love I what has happened?" "You may see a deal of wit in answering my questions in that flippant style, sir ; but the day may come when you will wish you had viewed the subject with my eyes. I tell you, if Malcolm, at his age, is meditating the outrageous folly of marrying a child- a baby-faced creature, -like Katherine Rasheigh, a girl, without one atom of dignity--who is always saying and doing odd things --it will be no laughing matter to us!" . "I don't say they are to be married, my dear!" reiterated poor Moreau, the joints of his knees loosening, as her wrath heightened, "You intimated your belief in the tale 1 I had hoped that years had taught Malcolm wisdom i"Eleanor fumed on. ' My precious I may you not be mistaken about his age?" said the -unlucky Benedict. "Men often marry at forty, or even at fifty--and your brother told me with his own lips, that he was just thirty. And that makes him my junior by five years-and yours, by two!" It is needless to repeat the tirade that attended upon this ill- timed, and to the lady's notion-indelicate computation. It may be that it would likewise be impolitic; lest, in so doing, we might N E MES I S. 297 betray our familiarity with the species of' domestic oratory, attributed to high-spirited wedded women, from the time when the distracted Thane of Cawdor rushed to regicide and to ruin, to escape his wife's tongue, to our generation, when the most brilliant wit of his day courted immortality in the hearts of afflicted husbands, in his and all future ages, by writing "Caudle lectures." We merely recount, to gratify the lovers of the " heroic in com- mon life," that the extinguished Moreau stuck to his text to the bitter end-his last articulate observation that night being a- feeble and spiritless disclaimer--"I don't say they are to be mar- ried, my dear." While this lively matrimonial conference was in progress, Mal- colm and Katherine were returning from their afternoon ride through the wooded road. Let them set off from home in what- ever direction they might, they were apt, in the'course of. the excursion, to turn into this beautiful and secluded route. Neither avowed any-reason for the choice, other than the attractive fea- tures of the way-lying as it did, through the magnificent forest whose trees were coeval with races dead centuries ago; leading over hills and through many a romantic glade, with its thickets of wild flowers and silver streamlet. But it was impossible that each should not be aware of his or her ulterior motive -for frequenting the scene.,of their early acquaintance ; of the awk- ward adventure that was the unlikely prelude to so much of beauty and happiness; and that feeling .this, and divining the other's sympathetic thought, the eye should be more soft, the voice more low and mellow, the heart beat full and fast in the reverie that bewitched- them into silence that was not stillness, or into long, confidential talls- how confidential neither knew then. It was communion such as heart can hold with heart, only when both forget, while using it, that the tongue is the medium of converse. As usual, common report had outstripped the truth in proclaim 13* page: 298-299[View Page 298-299] 298 NE X E S Is. ing the betrothment of these two. The vain-glorious confidence and rashness of puerile passion would not have been in -harmony with the earnest devotion that had its foundation in the very depths of Malcolm's soul. His was the love that enriches its object beyond any other earthly treasure ; the undivided gift of a true, manly heart; the tenderness of a nature, as strong as tender. But the might of this love taught him humility and cau- tion. While he sought her society openly, and would have scorned the suggestion that his attentions were committing him beyond recall--as intimating the possibility that he might change his purpose, he guarded scrupulously against the temptation to a premature declaration of feelings she might not be prepared to reciprocate. Would she ever be? was the inquiry that occa- sioned him most disquiet. He rated his years nearly according to his sister's calculation, and when he remembered that the period, foreshortened by a backward glance, lengthens into an indefinite, because untried futurity, when anticipated, his fears multiplied. A less modest man would have believed the mirror and friends, whose verdict upon his appearance coincided with his own know- ledge of unipmpared vigor and health ; a timid lover would have shrunk appalled at the dozen years' difference in age, and aban- doned the field to a more youthful suitor. Malcolm determined that the success which proverbially attends the resolute and the wary should be his. As the reward of his delicate forbearance, he saw the evident ripening of the girl into the woman ; the rivu- let, with its dancing ripples, deepen and expand into the river; saw thought taking precedence of impulse ; feelings and antici- pations, unknown before, lending sweet and holy gravity to her demeanor in their interviews. From one point of their ride, near the entrance to the woods, they had a view of the Ben Lomond house, framed in a vista of trees. By tacit consent, they paused to look at it. The win- dows were like burnished gold in the sun's rays; the dark pile of NEME SI S. 299 buildings had an air of peaceful repose, and the environing cot-. tages and green fields sloping down from it, made up a picture of rural beauty that called forth an admiring exclamation from Katherine. "The situation is well chosen, and the sunshine invests the landscape with its own charms," said Malcolm, in reply. "Still, I think with you that it is a fine old homestead, and my attachment to it is great." "You were born there--were you not?" "Yes, and passed there a happy boyhood. I have explored every nook on the place ; know every tree in the woods-I was about to say, every fish in the creek. My grandparents and my parents lie in the burying-ground, under that grove of cedars ,t the right, and there I hope to rest, when my appointedb-ay - comes." Katherine gazed with moistened eye at the quiet old house on the hill, seeming to keep watch over the surrounding country, and thought what a serene asylum it looked for helpless infancy and declining age. "I believe that my local attachments are naturally tenacious;" she said ; "but I have never lived in any one home long enough to learn to love it very dearly. I have been a waif, all my life. Mamma's health has compelled us to make many changes of residence. You must have remarked papa's extreme fondness for her. His soul is bound up in--her welfare; and radically English as are his predilections of heart and taste, he has never murmured at any proposed removal, that could be of the slightest possible benefit to her. Several times, within my recollection, his friends have strenuously opposed his acting upon the advice of the various physicians who declared-that she cowd not live in England, and advised travelling as -the most likel: /eans of her restoration, but he held on his way. At last, like many other migratory birds, we found our way across the Atlantic. Most page: 300-301[View Page 300-301] 300 N EM E S I S. sincerely do I trust, that this is our last move. I am sad at heart, sometimes, when I reflect that this constant shifting of the scenes of my childhood, has robbed me of the memories that appear to be so dear to most people. I have the most tantalizing recollections of my infancy, up to the time which we spent in Paris. It may amuse you, but I could weep when I tell you that in the two years we passed'^there, I forgot my mother-tongue-all except some half-a-dozen pet-names, which the traditional ' Bessy must have taught me.' "' "And cannot your mother or Mrs. Holt assist you,; in giving form to your floating visions?" - "Mamma has never encouraged me to speak of old times. Indeed, she seems averse to answering my questions, and Mrs. Holt entered our family after our return to England, when I was eight years old. "One circumstance of my early life made a powerful impression on my mind, and yet, I recall it by snatches, with dark gaps between the fragments-such leaps as one's imagination makes in dreams. It is of a severe illness which papa had, at some strange place, while we were travelling. Mamma-was with him a great deal, I suppose, and it seems to me that I ran about bare- footed and bareheaded, with four or five other children, who did not treat me well, and that their mother was a harsh, cross woman, with a loud voice, of whom I stood in deadly terror. Then came another gap-and one happy morning, when mamma told me that papa wished to see me. I was frantic with joy, for some mischievous or cruel persons had made me believe that he was dead. Mamma arrayed me in a pretty dress, which she said he had given me, and led me downstairs, and there I saw the 'papa,' whomn I recollected as a handsome man, with dark curls, and thin and pale, from long confinement to his bed--now so altered that I did not know him. I pulled away from the old gentleman with grey hair, who wanted to kiss me, and screamed ,NEMSXS. ' 30i that he was not my father. Mamma scolded and he coaxed, and at length, I was induced to listen to reason. Then I awoke from sleep to find myself rolling and pitching in a ship upon the ocean, and a fit of sea-sickness effaced every other reminiscence of the voyage." - "Which was, no doubt, only the trip across the Channel on your way to France," said Malcolm. "Children have the most unreliable notions of time and space. You must have had rather a lonely life," he resumed, when they had ridden on a little further. There was something forlorn in her disjointed childish reminis- cences. Nor could he understand the neglect which had sub- jected the child of wealthy parents to the low associations and petty tyranny she sketched, even by supposing that her father's illness had occurred, as she stated, while they were travelling. However exemplary Mrs. Rasheigh might have been, as a wife and nurse; her tender, sensitive daughter was slighted, and suffered in consequence. "Lonely!X Katherine clasped her hands passionately, and raised to him a look so intensely sad, that it pierced his heart. "You cannot enter into the meaning-of the word, for you have always ' dwelt among your own people.' I, in whose ears it has knelled, since my babyhood; who have sobbed myself to sleep repeating it, and felt it fall upon my spirit-a load of ice! with the earliest waking thought-I-can tell you how that little word makes a desert of a crowded city ; a feast of death of the gayest party ; how it converts wealth into a cruel mockery ; the tones of flattery into hateful discords I It is not always that I feel thus, for I was endowed by Providence, with an elasticity of temperament that resists care--and when forced to bow, retains the power to risb when the pressure is. removed. But I often, often smile and sing, when I am ready to throw myself in the dust and weep my life away-when my wild cry to heaven-is- 'Why hast Thou made a worm to suffer torture like this!" page: 302-303[View Page 302-303] 302 NEM ESIS. The great tears dropped fast and thickly upon Omar's mane, as she bent her head upon her breast. Had she looked up, at that moment, the tenor of much of her after-life might have been different., Malcolm's yearning, fervent soul was in his eyes and face, and before he- bethought himself of expediency or aught else besides the impulse to fold the wanderer to his heart, and bid her rest there forever, his hand was upon her bridle. With all the power of man's resolve, he quelled the rising emotion, ere she recovered self-command. "Do not think me rebellious or weak, -Mr. Argyle!' she said, pleadingly. "You listen too patiently to my discursive talk- invite my confidence to persuasively--and if I forget myself sometimes, you must share the blame with my impetuous disposi- tion. It needs curbing and pruning woefully. But please remember that I never had a friend before-one of my own, such as you have kindly offered to be, and I have not'learned yet how to make a right use of him, without imposing upon his indul- gence." "He hopes to teach you, some day, what use he would have you make of him, Katherine," was the reply. No interpretation was solicited and none offered. In the silent twilight of the forest aisle, it seemed as if the fast heart-beats must be audible and intelligible to one another. Vows more definite and more binding might be hereafter exchanged ; but in the spirit-history of each, the- solemn, beautiful sanctuary of Nature was recorded as the place of their plighting. N E x E S I S 303 CHTA P'TEI XXT. A SADDLE-HORSE was being led away to the stables as Malcolm and Katherine approached the door of Briarwood ;.a fat, slow steed, which Malcolm identified as belonging to the elder San- croft. -"I cannot come in this evening," he said, in reply to Kathe- rine's modest invitation. "But I will see you again very soon." "Colonel Rasheigh will be disappointed, Mr. Argyle. He promised himself the pleasure of your company at supper." It was Mrs. Rasheigh's voice, and she came forward to the porch from the gathering gloom of the hall. Her manner was formal, yet it was an icy approach to cordiality, that Malcolm had never seen in her before, and which took him now by sur- prise. "I thank you, madam, but will you be so good as to present my excuse to him? He has another visitor, I perceive, and he will probably be engaged with business matters throughout this evening. I shall do myself the honor of waiting upon him some time when he is more at leisure." "That tiresome Mr. Sancroft here again P" muttered Kathe- rine, on her way upstairs to change her dress. "You do not like him, then?" said her mother, close' behind her. :? Katherine laughed. "I did not know you were there, mamma I If my soliloquy was disrespectful to the knight of the eyebrows, you must excuse me on the score of unaccountable antipathy.! I page: 304-305[View Page 304-305] 304 NEMESIS. suppose it is wrong since papa knows and trusts him, but I cannot bear the man's looks P' They were at her chamber} and Mrs. Rasheigh went in with her "It does seem unreasonable to distrust a man because you do not admire his eyebrows,"- she said, seating herself as if wearied by the ascent of the stairs. "Oh, that is not all!" exclaimed Katherine, confusedly. "I am not quite so childish as that. His black eyes are so cunning, and his endless talks such a conglomeration of nauseous compli- ments and business items and inquisitiveness, that he impresses me most disagreeably. You have never met him, I believe, mamma?" "He has been here but twice at meal-times, and on both occa- sions I was confined to my room. I intend going down to supper to-night." ' You will not like him 1" said Katherine, in a confident tone, and proceeding with her toilet. "His eyebrows will give you a nervous turn. They have St. Vitus's dance in its worst type." 'Does the -son share in the antipathy you profess to feel against the father?3' inquired Mrs. Rasheigh. "-I can assign better reasons for my want of appreciation of his fascinating qualities, yet I can better endure his conversation." "So Mrs. Holt thinks!" "t Madam!V.) said ]Ratherine, wheeling around from the mirror. Mrs. Rasheigh smiled ; a gleam that-had a faint touch of her daughter's archness. "Mrs. Holt has confided to-me, in the discharge of her official duties, her impression that Mr. Sancroft contemplates becoming a suitor for Miss Rasheigh's hand, and that Miss Rasheigh is nofinsensible to Mr. Sancroft's merits." ' Katherine colored almost angrily, and then, detecting the lurk- ing smile about her motheris mouth, burst into a hearty fit of laughthr. N E M E S IS . 305 "How rididulous I Who could have thrust such a fancy into the poor, dear lady's brain I It never crept there of itself!" "She sees nothing absurd in the fancy, or in the mutual pre- ference it asserts," answered her mother. "And do not you? I admire Mr. Sancroft I I permit the addresses of a man whom I neither like nor respect I a pert, con- sequential, selfish attorney 1" "You forget that there is no profession in this country more honorable than that of the law ; none that leads more directly to fame, and frequently to wealth." "A. lawyer is a different creature from a pettifogger 1" returned Katherine, curling her pretty lip. '"We will not quarrel about terms. Only, do not confound the profession with the practitioner. -I may assure Mrs. Holt, then, that she need not trouble herself to be circumspect in-con- versing of our gentleman visitors-Mr. Sancroft, particularly- that you- are heart-free?" Katherine drew back from the window that let in the glow of the crimson West, as she replied: "Refer Mrs. Holt to me. I think that I can speedily convince her of the baseless nature of her surmises--whether borrowed, or of her own manufacture.," It may have been the lingering effects of this conversation that painted Katherine's cheeks, when she joined the family and Mr. Sancroft at the table, Mr. Sancroft's hair was snow-white, but bushy still; his smile was as constant, his eye as sharp and his eyebrows were as indefatigable as/ they had been in his prime. "Most happy to have the pleasure of meeting you, madam 1' he said, cringingly to Mrs. Rasheigh. "Colonel Rasheigh informs me that your valuable health is improving in our salubri- ous climate. Health is a boon which none of us rightly value until we are deprived of it, Mrs. -Rasheigh. My lamented part- ner was delicate for some years before her decease, and this cir- 7i page: 306-307[View Page 306-307] 306 NE M E S I S. cumstance renders me more sympathizing toward'others, who are similarly afflicted, Colonel Rasheigh." Mrs. Rasheigh listened with an unmoved countenance, that did not resent, as did Katherine's tell-tale features, the analogy drawn between the dear departed and the lady of the house. Before she could compose her contemptuous muscles, Mr. San- croft faced about upon her. "Your blooming cheeks bespeak your immunity from ' all the ills that flesh is heir to,' Miss Rasheigh. You enjoy unbroken sanity of body and quiet of mind, I conclude. You set a commendable example of wholesome exercise to the other young people of our community, one which I hope will be extensively followed. Your splendid horsemanship must have been learned min a riding-school, Miss Rasheigh? And, how are you pleased, my dear young lady, with the physical and social structure of your adopted home? I presume that you have made the acquain- tance of most of our neighbors. I think that my daughters have called upon you--hey?Y" "They have, sir. I returned the 'visit, but they wen not at hole." She did not append her subsequent resolution not to cultivate their acquaintance. "' Mr. Sancroft and myself will be busied, most of the evening, in balancing our accounts, my dear," remarked Colonel Rasheigh, to the statue at the head of the board. ' Therefore, we must deny ourselves the pleasure of your soc ie s," including Mrs. Holt and his daughter in his ceremonious bow. "-The loss indeed is a heavy one 1"Mr. Sancroft said, with a monkey-like imitation of his host's precise gallantry. "I hope, however, that when these necessary, although, at times, irksome affairs are disposed of, we may enjoy many occasions of friendly intercourse," and he ducked his-head to a, level with his tearcup. The meal was not protracted by superfluous conversation, *s J NEM ESIS. 307 except on his part. Unabashed by the frigidity of the hostess, Katherine's barely civil rejoinders to his questions, and Mrs. Holt's prudent reserve, he brought forth his best stores, his longest words and most fawning flatteries, and left the table, in the bliss- ful consciousness of having played to perfection the fine gentle- man-a role he had studied to acquire, as his accumulating wealth enabled him to rank with his neighbors in outward show. Katherine sat for a while in the family parlor, where her mother and Mrs. Holt were at work. "'Mamma," she said, presently, "what business is it that brings Mr. Sancroft here so often?" "He is a kind of general agent-a collector," replied Mrs. tRasheigh, " and in this capacity, was employed by Mr. Moreau, to negotiate for this plantation, with its former,owner. He pur- chased the stock; the farming implements, the servants-every- thing that we did not bring over with us." "But why was he selected? Surely my cousin Robert was competent to the task." "It was your father's wish. He does not like to have moneyed transactions with his relations." "And is not the estate paid for?" "A portion of the purchase-money was paid down at the trans- fer of the property ; upon the remainder, the terms of the sale allowed a credit of somie length." "And Mr. Sancroft has kept the accounts! Mrs. Holt, do you believe that a man of hiM physiognomy and-eyebrows-can be worthy of this, unlimited confidence?' "My dear Miss Rasheighl" said the shocked governess. "That Mr. Sancroft is an honorable man, I cannot disbelieve "--- "And so' were Brutus and Cassius-Mark Antony for authority," interrupted Katherine, in affectionate raillery that could not be mistaken for disrespect. -Do you remember the doggerel stanza the schoolboys used to sing? page: 308-309[View Page 308-309] 308 N-E ME S IS. "' I do not like you, Doctor Fell, The reason why I cannot tell; But this I do know very well I do not like you, Doctor Fell.' For Doctor Fell, read Ichabod Sancroft." She went singing out of the room, and the next minute the music of the piano came from the adjoining parlor, where she was alone in the dark. . The two ladies sat upright in the straight-backed chairs, and sewed without speaking-one, grave and severe of visage, the other grave and mild-while the plaintive airs Katherine loved best, floated down the long room, to their ears, like strains from the spirit-land. During an hour they remained thus, and Colonel Rasheigh made his appearance. ' I stepped in for a moment, Margaret, to consult you as to the propriety of inviting Mr. Sancroft to remain with us over night. It will not be practicable for us to finish our comparison of accounts this evening, and it has occurred to me that if he were on the spot, we could accomplish all that we desire early in the morning. What do you think?" "It is at moonlight night, and Mr. Sancroft's family probably expect him home,"zaid Mrs. Rasheigh's measured accents. "It will not be altogether convenient to me to have a room prepared ' for him, and the distance is so short that he will not regard the ride over here again to-morrow or next day. You will oblige me by appointing the day after to-morrow." A side-glance at Mrs. Holt intimated' to him that she would, by-and-by, impart to his private ear her reasons for this request. Accordingly, when the obsequious agent had departed, Kathe- rine and Mrs. Holt having sought their respective chambers, Mrs. Rasheigh folded her sewing ; shut it up in the drawer of her work-table; extinguished the lights- in the sitting-room, land renaired to .the library. The Colonel was there: newsnaner and NE M ESI S. 309 snuff-box in hand. Mrs. Rasheigh accepted the chair and foot- cushion he 'arranged for her, and broached the subject without preamble. ,I wish to speak to you about this Mr. Sancroft." There was no decided stress upon the demonstrative pronoun, yet the Colonel's esteem of "this Mr. Sancroft "'fell half a degree. . "Has he the confidence of the leading men in this com- munity?" pursued his wife. "In these times, we cannot be too cautious whom we trust. If I understand aright,e yos u have known none of the other parties concerned in your purchases. To save them and. you trouble, he is empowered to receive and dis- yburse the sums due for the plantation and appurtenances." Sh e spoke quietly, but without the languor that generally marked her style. iSuch seemed the fittest arrangement," -replied the Colonel. I am a stranger to the people, their currency and laws of pur- chase and sale. Robert Moreau recommended this man as- a trusty agent, conversant with all such matters. He keeps his books, and I keep mine. Thus far, they agree" "I have- heard that this Sancroft was once the steward, or agent, if you will, of Mr. Argyle's father. Have you ever inquired his character from him?", "I never have. It has not appeared expedient, according to my-judgment." ' "Excuse a very direct question. If this man were disposed to defraud you, is it in'his power to do so?" "Asuredly!" replied the Colonel, restlessly. "It is always in the power of a dishonest man to defraud whomsoever he may deal with, It s, a defect in commercial institutions, but one for which no remedy has as yet been devised m a You accept Sancroft's statement without any evidence or a-,e. ,^ ;i yo w^ll o- Mr.+9 Agle^ father^. Have 1yo - evelr page: 310-311[View Page 310-311] 310 N E M E s1 S. bill, setting forth that a certain sum was demanded for a certain number of cattle, you discharge the debt without further inquiry into the matter?" "I do. You are aware, my dear, that the stock and the , farm-tools were bought- of many different parties, scattered throughout the State. With those at a- distance, Mr. Sancroft communicated, by letter, my order that all accounts should be forwardedto me through him. You perceive that this arrange- ment spares me a great deal of trouble." "I perceive "--she was calmly energetic-" that you are honest, the soul of a rectitude that thinks no evil of other men, and that Mr. Sancroft's profits in this transaction may exceed his lawful percentage by almost any amount he may deem it safe to extort!" "Margaret I are you not severe in your suspicion of a man whom you have no, reason to distrust? Think I would my nephew advise me to place my interests in his power, had he not tried and proved his integrity? Could he have borne an unblem- ished name in the county, for twenty years, if he had ever been convicted of dealings like these?" "I tell you," said his wife, calmly still, but her slight hand quivered as she lifted it, "that you are not safe I You have often said that my judgment was good, my perception of charac- ter correct. Believe me now, when I declare to you that your agent is unprincipled, and that you cannot be too much on your guard." "Why never tell me this until now?" The Colonel was not an astute man, but he could not overlook this inconsistency. ' 1 had what' seemed to me sufficient reasons for' the delay." She smiled drearily. "I never intended that you should lose by i" an hlp if he chooses to play the-iain "How can I help it, if he chooses to play the villain?" M FJ 6 3" NEMES IS. 3" "Represent to him that your inexperience in American finan- cial, concerns renders it expedient that his accounts and yours should be inspected and tested by a third party. Let that person be a lawyer, sound and sagacious-Mr. Hammond, if you please Ride over to see him to-morrow, and make an appointment with him for the day following. Deliver Sancroft and his books into his hands, without warning to your clever man of business. Require that every bill be examined by the one in whose name it is drawn, if the number of such be legion, and they be scattered to the four quarters of the globe. It will take time, and be an expensive procedure," she continued, dropping her emphatic tone, and returning to her ordinary listlessness. ' You can consider the plan, and act at your judgment dictates. You have not Tead your paper yet, I observe. I ask your pardon for engrossing so much of your time. Good night." I Great was Malcolm Argyle's amazement, when Colonel Rtash- leigh introduced the subject of the errand that took him to Ben Lomond the next morning, namely, a minute inquiry into Mr. Sancroft's antecedents and character. "You cannot comprehend how delicate and difficult is the position in which you would place me, Colonel Rasheigh?, he said, truthfully. "Personally, I em Mr. Sancroft's enemy. Such is my dislike of him, that if I would, without compromising my veracity and honor, thwart hisurposes, I would do so, not only willingly, bEentertain feelings toward him and his sonfsaers I have for no other persons living. This honest stat ent will perhaps show you that I am scarcely the proper manio consult on this point." "!" ave too just 'a knowledge of Mr.:Argyle's integrity and honor, to believe that his-private animosity would bias his judg- ment in so grave a decision as the question of another rmn's honesty," replied the Colonel, in stately courtesy. "As a friend, I persist in asking your' candid opinion of the agent selected for page: 312-313[View Page 312-313] 312 N E M E I . me by my nephew. I shall make no unfair use of the information thus obtained. My object is to save myself--not to injure Mr. Sancroft." Still, Malcolm demurred. ." Allow me to make an inquiry or two, sir, before I satisfy you. Have you had any especial cause for' suspecting fraudulent dealings on the part of your agent?' "None, sir, or none that would have weight with any one, save myself." "Have you been warned against him?" "I have, sir." "By any one in this county, may I inquire?" It was the Colonel's turn to hesitate. A purple tinge suffused his forehead, and he looked down for an instant. Then, like a proud husband, who was not ashamed to be influenced by such a wife, he spoke out his mind. "Mrs. Rasheigh, Mr. Argyle, is a woman of extraordinary penetration, of remarkable discernment! She says little, but she is, always watchful and thoughtful. She advised this application to you, and insinuated her belief that its result would confirm her unfavorable opinion of my nephew's choice. I have never known her judgment to err, and after mature reflection, I have adopted the course she recommended. Of course, I am not blind to the fact that her suggestion, had it proceeded from any other lady, would not have been entitled to receive the weight I have given it, but you, sir, are too accurate a judge of character not to have perceived that Mrs. Rasheigh is, as I previously stated, a most re-mar-ka-ble person!" Malcolm bowed. "I am honored by Mrs. Rasheigh's confi- dence, ignorant as I am of the causes that instigated her reference to me," repliedhe, sincerely. "I will not be backward in frankness, sir. I believe -Sancroft to, be entirely undeserving of your trust; as regardless of honesty as of truth; if you will hear the plain language of my sentiments-he is a knave and a J E . NEME I S. 313 liar I Still, you will find him an efficient eye-servant, No man in the State understands his line of business better than he does. He is keen, quick, and thorough in the execution of commissions, and if he. knows that he is watched, he displays a-hair-splitting exactness that is calculated to beguile his employer into the belief of his extreme conscientiousness." "I have remarked that myself in a number of instances," returned the Colonel. "I thank you, sir, for having been thus unreserved and explicit in your reply to my queries. May I trespass yet further upon your patience and your friendship by a disclosure of my plan for future action?" Malcolm heard and approved, adding his to Mrs. Rasheigh's recommendation of Mr. Hammond. He consented, also, at the Colonel's request, to give hima' note of introduction to the -lawyer, who was a personal friend of his own, and after renewing his expressions of grateful regard, the Colonel left the master of Ben Lomond to ponder upon the apparent chance which had placed the reputation of his old enemy in his power. Colonel Rasheigh's ready and full confidence in a stranger, although the character of that one was indorsed by his nephew, had excited the wondering remarks of many who, while they- did not hesitate to use Sancroft to press a delinquent or tardy debtor of their own, examined his reports very narrowly, lest he might have placed a figure on the wrong side for them, and the right for himself. Mr. Hammond was not surprised, therefore, at Col- onel Rasheigh's call and request that he would meet Mr. San- croft at Briarwood, the next day, to assist in the winding up of their affairs. It was a curious,.and tog the lawyer, a diverting study, to watch the evolutions of the famous eyebrows, when the object of Mr. Hammond's appearance in the Colonel's library, at the appointed hour, was explained to their owner. Colonel Rash leigh's demeanor was gentlemanly and dignified, formal, but not 1A page: 314-315[View Page 314-315] 314 N E S Al discourteous, and his quiet assumption of his right to call in what- ever assistance he needed in the conclusion of a transaction so important, could not be gainsaid by any man in his senses. Moreover, Mr. Hammond was too skillful a practitioner not to mistrust an attempted evasion or counterfeit of wounded inno- cence, and the business proceeded with regularity and dispatch. Within a couple of hours after he had alighted at his patron's gate, comfortable in reputed respectability and the anticipation of certain benefits to accrue to him from the job in hand, Mr. San- croft-having declined the dinner Mr. Hammond remained to enjoy-rode pensively out of the Briarwood domain ; his saddle- bags lighter by the weight of the bills and ather documents con, signed to the legal gentleman, and his heart heavier for the wish that many others, as clever as himself, have heaved with the boy who slew the goose of the golden egg--that- he had- contented himself with sure and equitable profits, instead of upsetting a really promising scheme by overreaching and peculation. t* NEMESIS. 315- CHEAPTE XXTT. ELEANOR had been four days at home, when she drove over to Briarwood, to prefer a "1 daring request," as she styled if, to Mrs. Rasheigh. It was for a week's loan of her daughter. ETilizabeth Hunter, a sister of Jessie's husband,. was to pay Mrs. Moreau a visit of that length, and she was hospitably solicitous that she should pass the time pleasantly[, "I thought, too, that our dear Katherine would enjoy herself in her company," said Eleanor. "Our neighborhood is lamenta- bly deficient in young people, and she Will be pleased with Lizzy. She is a charming girl, my dear ;" to Katherine. "More refined and less boisterous than her brother." "I liked Mr. Hunter, extremely," rejoined Katherine. "I am glad that you did. Strangers are not apt to admire his manners. They are too free-and-easy. But we, who are acquainted with his intrinsic worth, forget his oddities. Lizzie is quite a belle at home, and it is my intention to have several little social gatherings while 'she is with us. We will take excellent care of your daughter, Mrs. Rasheigh. May she go?" - "Katherine can consult her own inclination," replied Mrs. Rasheigh, coldly-so coldly, that the flush of expectation faded from her daughter's face. Colonel Rasheigh could not endure to have his darling disap- pointed in any wish, however trivial. He saw, in Eleanor's proposition, a harmless and praiseworthy plan for enlivening the retired life of her young cousin. All girls liked gay society, and page: 316-317[View Page 316-317] 3iG S E M E S SI . . music and dancing. He had seen Katherine's eye brighten at the idea, and he took the responsibility of deciding the question. "Your invitation is indeed an attractive one, Eleanor," he said. "I presume that Mrs. Rasheigh will not object-to so kind a device for our daughter's amusement, unless she has some weighty reason for denying you and her. If you are willing, Margaret, I say, by all means, let Katherine go to her cousin's to-morrow." "If it is your desire, she can go, certainly," replied Mrs. Rasheigh. Katherine's changing color and expression had told how greatly she longed for the visit. To her, it promised more than the mere mingling with young- and lively associates. Montrouge was the adjoining plantation to Ben Lomond, and although she knew that Malcolm was not a frequent visitor at his sister's, she was confi- dent that he must come while she was there. The "social gatherings " would include him, and she could not fail of having a m errymaking, however dull the rest of the company might be. Besides this main motive, she was light-hearted and sportive, and dearly loved a frolic. "Thank you, papal Mamma, you are very kind!" she exclaimed, as the consent was given. "I know that I shall be happy!" and, turning to Mrs. Moreau, she began a string of questions about her destined companion, Miss Hunter, with the lively curiosity of a child. Mr. Moreau's haggard looks were apparent even to his unob- servant uncle. He sat apart, while his wife talked with her accustomed gaiety, and, seeming to fall into a brown study, he picked up a pen that lay upon a writing-table near by, with which he scribbled incessantly upon a sheet of paper, until the Colonel's voice awoke him. "Robert, you have lost flesh this summer. A vacation would do you no harm, andj would prescribe a tonic. A glass of bitters before each meal would strengthen you."- NEMESIS. 317 Mr. Moreau hitched his chair back, with an uneasy motion, and laughed. "I am getting old, sir, and my mind runs too much upon the troubles of the country." "These are indeed lawless times," said the Colonel, reverting mentally to the rough usage he had received in'a political assem- blage. "Is there any later and more gloomy intelligence by to- day's mail?" turning over the "Enquirer," which had been brought in a short time previous. "No, sir; the same old thing I But the depression of the money-market is tremendous." "{ Fortunately for us, it is comparatively light in the agricul-' tural districts,? returned his uncle, while Katherine remarked, laughingly-"Cousin Robert, you are a monomaniac upon the evil of the 'hard times.' One would say that you were being worn away by friction against them.'? "Perhaps he is!" said Mrs. Rasheigh, catching his embar- rassed look, and fixing- it by her own-cool and clear. "Oh, no, madam I not so bad as that!" he answered, with a desperate effort at levity; and jumping up, he reminded his wife that she had ordered an early tea. "Are you losing all- the wit you were born with?" asked Eleanor, when they were again on the road. Her manner said that she was irritated beyond measure; but her husband replied, doggedly, almost savagely, that she "had never given him credit for having uny to lose." "It is enough to provoke one to death "--Eleanor went on- "to see what a miserable dissembler you are I I do not believe you could keep a secret to save your life. You blushed and stammered like' a school-boy, while Mrs. Rasheigh's eye was reading you through, if a mortal eye can read thoughts. She seems too proud to notice what is passing around hers yet nothing , escapes her. I am morally certain she suspects something-- e ,- page: 318-319[View Page 318-319] 318 NEMXESIS. what, I cannot say-only, she would have kept Katherine away from Montrouge if your uncle had not expressed his approval so decidedly. You are not fit to take care of yourself. What need is there to croak eternally over the "money pressure,' until that saucy minx laughs at you about it?" "A man that is on the rack cannot help groaning!" said Mr. Moreau, sulkily. "And these groans are the thanks I get for my sacrifices in your behalf I Did not you sell my horse last week to relieve your immediate need of money? Woodson gave you a' good price for him, and I hoped that I should hear no more complaints for a fortnight, at least. There I Did I not .charge you to sound your uncle privately, as to his reasons for putting his busi- Iness into Mr. Hammond's care? You never thought of it while you were there? "Where was the use? It was your brother's work. Will Sancroft saw uncle come out from Argyle's gate last Thursday morning, and dogged him to Hammond's door. It's as plain as daylight can make it-the way they are playing into one another's hands. Old Sancroft is as mad as a March hare, and yet dare not say a word for fear ugly stories may get abroad. If he has tried to turn an extra penny for himself, while handling the old geintleman's money, he will smart for it when Hammond ferrets it out, if Argyle is his backer. I never saw a fellow in such a passion as Will was, when he talked to me about it yesterday. He swore that he would be avenged on Argyle, and marry his sweetheart into the bargain." "He may have her as soon as he can get her," responded Eleanor. "The game will be his for a week, and if he cannot secure, a footing in the circumstances we propose for his accommo- dation, he deserves to lose her. Here is Malcolm, now I and on his way to see her I Stop and speak to him, and do as I bid you 1" Malcolm would have passed on-with a nod and a " good day i" N E M E SIS. 319 but as his brother-in-law drew up-his horse, he could' not avoid doing the same. "Are you on your way to Briarwood?" asked Eleanor, when the salutations were over. "I am!" and his look added: "What businessis that of yours?" "We are just from there," said his sister. "I forgot an important inquiry I wished to make of Mrs. Rasheigh. Will you, take a message from me to her?" Malcolm bowed his acquiescence. "Please say to her, then--or, no I I will not trouble you I Mr. Moreau, suppose we ride back with him? It will not take us long. I had best see Mrs. Rasheigh myself." "Here are Robert and Eleanor back again, and Mr. Argyle with them 1' observed Colonel Rasheigh, who was standing at the window. "They have forgotten something, probably," said Katherine, going into the hall to meet them. "Returned like a bad penny 1" cried Mrs. Moreau. "Just as we met Malcolm, I recollected a little domestic matter about which I wanted to consult your mother, and as I had hardly seen brother since my return, we resolved to drive back with him." "Now that you are here, you had as well remain to supper," said Colonel Rasheigh, hospitably. "It will be quite a family party." Eleanor looked delighted, as. she really was. ' It is a tempta- tion I But what of the babies at home?'7 Mr. Moreau's wits were freshened by his recent lecture, and he answered readily enough :"Oh I Sarah can be trusted with the children, if that is the -only stumbling-block to your enjoyment." "Then you Will stay!" said 'atherine. She reproached herself for the effort it cost her to utter the words that concluded the discussion. Her cousins bad come over expressly to ask her to their house, and were contriving all manner page: 320-321[View Page 320-321] -320 N EMEI E S. I t of amusements for her, and she could grudge them the share of her attention which they would, for this one evening, divert from the other visitor I What would he think of her if he could read the selfish regret? What ought she to think of herself? But for Eleanor, Katherine would have had a difficult task to produce a semblance of sociability in the little company. Mrs. Rasheigh was always taciturn, and this evening said absolutely nothing beyond the formulas of the tea-table, unless when a direct question was put to her. Colonel Rasheigh perceived shortly that he had not contributed to his own pleasure or that of his family, in inviting his nephew and niece to remain, and his annoy- ance was showed in his gravity under his daughter's sallies and Eleanor's industrious efforts to-extract his sentiments upon subjects which -she, fancied would be congenial to his taste. Mrs.- Holt's thoughts were in a package of books yet unread, received the pre- ceding day, and she seemed to be ignorant that the conversation was in danger of sinking. 5Malcolm's vexation at his sister's manceuvre was augmented by the discovery that Katherine was to spend a week at her house. His chagrin was the more pardonable when we learn that he had meditated the performance of great things upon this evening; had decreed that it should end his suspense, one way or the other. The interviews he had meant to secure-first with the Colonel-afterward with Katherine; the bright visions that swam in an atmosphere of glory before him, when he'dwelt upon the evident favor of the parent, and the tones, words and looks of the daughter, from which he seemed to draw his life itself, since they encouraged a hope that was dearer than life ; the fruition; of all these desires was delayed by the senseless whim of a woman I Patience was not his forte, and if it ' had been, he might have pleaded his exercise of the cardinal grace during the months that had elapsed since he awoke to a know- ledge of his love. Katherine had never seen him so, unapproachable, and grieved N E MES I S 321 secretly over the change. At length, he made an opportunity to request some music, and she consented with joyful readiness. The rest of the party were clustered, by chance, near the centre of the apartment, and this movement put a space between them and the two who went to the piano that was propitious for private conver- sation. The warming and lighting of Malcolm's face did not pass Eleanor's notice, as he turned toward her, to get a chair for him- self, after Katherine was seated. Ere the middle of the first piece was reached, Mr. Moreau sauntered up to the other side of the musician, and remained there, a fixture, the more hopeless because of the lazy negligence of his attitude-through every march, sonata and song. Content- that her sentinel's position barred all danger of sur- prise from that quarter, Eleanor crossed the room, and sat down by Mrs. Holt. From praises of the elaborate needle-work, that occupied the governess' fingers, she glided to Katherine's profi- ciency in that line; thence, to her accomplishments in other branches of young ladies' education, sugaring each compliment to the pupil, with insinuated flatteries of the instructress. Single- minded Mrs. Holt was captivated by the sound sense and affec- tionate disposition of one, whom she had previously mistaken for a frivolous, worldly woman.- Katherine was dear to her as if she were her own child, and Mrs. Moreau's undisguised complacency at the nearness of the existing relation between this paragon of beauty, goodness and intelligence, and her family, did honor to her heart and head. Then, Eleanor achieved the most cautious and graceful hint of stronger bonds, that events, now transpiring, were weaving. It was perhaps unbecoming in her to say it-and still, Katherine's friends might be gratified by the testimony of such a competent witness, to the excellence, the nobility of soul, the amiable temper, of him, who was likely to become one of themselves. He had his peculiarities ;- but they were -rather -excesses of virtue, than failings. "* page: 322-323[View Page 322-323] 322 NE M E S IS. "Despite the disparity of their ages, Katherine's influence over him will mould my brother"-- Here Mrs. Holt's bewilderment found words in the exclamation -' Your brother, Mrs. Moreaul I confess that I do not in the least understand you!" "Surely, Mrs. Holt, you cannot imagine that the state of my brother's affections is unknown to me. Your reserve is commend- able; but there can be nothing imprudent in our conversing about a matter that interests us mutually. The reciprocal attach- ment of two persons, so dear to us both, should be6 a common ground of confidence. Yet, if your sense of honor leads you to preserve Katherines'secret so jealously, I respect the scruple, and am silent." "Miss Rasheigh has not confided any secret to me," said the- poor lady, perplexed. "You ought to be best-informed with regard to your brother's intentions, but I must It ave that you have misunderstood him. His visits to Briarwood are for Colonel IRasheigh. I do not think that Miss Rasheigh has the least suspicion that they are meant for her. I know that she is not betrothed to him, or indeed, to any one. She told me so, seri- ously, only yesterday-but our conversation had no reference to Mr. Argyle. It related to-another person." "Young ladies are not confined to the strict truth in these affairs," smiled Eleanor. "Katherine Rasheigh is incapable of an equivocation-how- ever trival 1" rejoined Mrs. -Holt, mildly indignant. Eleanor drew back, so disconcerted, so mortified at her mis- take, that the soft heart of the governess melted. "Perhaps it will be well, Mrs. Moreau, not to let the sub- stance of this conversation go beyond ourselves. It was an embarrassing error on your side; but you' were not in fault in the mention of it. Who knows," she said more lightly, but the wish may be father to the fact? It is-most likely that the report NE E I S . 323 resembles most of its fellow-rumors in being 'neither wholly false nor wholly true,' and since Mr. Argyle's friends, and it i! to be presumed, himself, regard the event it shadows, as a ' consmnma. tion devoutly to be desired,' you may, in the end, prove to- be nearer right than I am." - , You are kind, dear Madam, thus to palliate my unfortunate- indiscretion. I accept your proposal of secrecy, thankfully. Not for the universe, would I have Colonel, or Mrs. Rasheigh, much less Katherine, hear of my seeming indelicacy, my premature allusion to what I was led to believe was a settled matter." Malcolm so seldom passed a night away from home, that he knew how agonizing would be Miss Barbara's uneasiness, should he deviate from his custom on this occasion. But for t!h con- sideration, he would have availed himself of the habits of the neighborhood in this respect, and accepted the Colonel's offer of a lodging. Heretofore, his evening-visits had terminated by ten. , o'clock, and when the hours had fretted themselves away to'this time, and his sister was smilingly immovable, he reluctantly ordered his horse. Our hero will, we fear, lose caste with the youthful adorers of such impassioned suitors as recognize no claims as paramount to those of the love that has stolen brains as well as heart. It' sounds hum-drum and wretchedly unromantic to say that he made up his mind to return hpme-his love untold ; no hint- of it given, and with the prospect of a week's separation before him-rather than rob an old housekeeper of a comfortable night's rest. Katherine, herself, who was ignorant of the cause of his rigid adherence to his rule, thought it rather singular that he could not, for- once, break through it. -For one instant, in the bustle of leave-taking, he eluded Eleanor's vigilance, and bent to Kathe- rine's ear. "Do not accuse me of forgetfulness or neglect, because- I cannot come to Mr. Moreau's, while you are there. When the page: 324-325[View Page 324-325] 324 NE M S E s iS. right season arrives, I will tell you why I stayed away. This will be a dreary week to me." Katherine's heart sank, with a painful beat, which felt as if the life had throbbed out with it ; a pang, that wrung the color from her lips, as they motioned the " good-bye " she had no voice to utter. It was the chill and shadow of the first cloud that crossed the heaven of love. She had taken the " second step that finds the thorn " in the rose-strewn path. * Mr. Moreau was ;miserably drowsy and stupid on the way home, and his guardian angel stirred him up sharply with her wand, for his obtuseness to the fine points of her strategy. "I declare; Mr. Moreau, you are getting as cross as a bear, or as a#t# other woman's husband. You used to be tolerably good- tempered, and to show some gratitude for what was done for you. You say that you ' cannot see what I gained by going back with Malcolm, except a dull evening and his illrwill.' I have learned all that I wanted to know, in order to proceed without fear with -my plans. They are not engaged, and however disposed he may have been to hasten' a declaration, when he heard that she was to pay us a visit, he had no chance to say a word to-night." "Why cannot he come 'to see her, while she is with us? or write to her?" said the awakening husband. "Does he ever come to our house? Has he crossed the tresh- old since he met Sancroft there, in May? If nothing else hindered him, he is too proud to make a convenience of us, that he may visit her. As to writing, it is my belief that matters are not far enough-advanced for that, and if they are-does it follow neces- sarily that the billet-doux will reach her? Accidents have hap- pened to letters, before this, that prevented them from reaching those towhom they were directed." This significant piece of information was the cud of bitter fan- cies that lasted Mr. Moreau the rest of the way. NE MESI 8 325 CHAPTER XXTII. THE Moreaus entertained handsomely. Both were fond of gay society, and never better pleased than when their house was filled with young people. Besides Elizabeth Hunter and Katherine Rasheigh, there were several others invited to pass some days at Montrouge. Mr. Sancroft, Mr. Blanton and Mr. Armistead- the latter a pleasant, gentlemanly fellow, whom Katherine liked better than she did any other beau of her acquaintance (with a mental reservation in favor of one whom nobody called a beau), were the stated gallants of a quartette of girls, composed of the two above-named, Miss Armistead and Miss Selden, a sister of Mrs. Carrington. It required little time for a party formed of these materials, and managed by Eleinor and the good-humored host, to become merrily social. Even Katherine, whose show of spirits, in the beginning, was feigned, soon -found the shaip edge of her disappointment wearing away, and herself resolving to look on the sunny side of a painful matter. "While I am here, the wisest plan is to get what pleasure I can, and to contribute as liberally as lies in my power to the happiness of others," she reasoned. "A week is soon -goe." As to Malcolm's motives for absenting himself from her pre- sence during that period, she had faith in him to believe that they were good and sufficient. The popular voice declared him a recluse, and ie had not concealed from -her his- dislike to general company, promiscuous parties and the like. And, as is- the fashion with women, she valued his preference for-herself the more, that -she stood alone in this respect. Toward -Mrs. Moreau page: 326-327[View Page 326-327] 326 NEMESIS. her heart opened every hour. The warmth and grace of manner that made her guests feel themselves to be welcome and privileged in-mates of her home ; her lively conversation, and, perhaps more than aught beside, her personal resemblance to her brother, seemed to bring her very near to her young cousin. The hearty "Good night" kiss and smile of affection which Katherine bestowed upon her hostess the first evening of her stay were the spontaneous expression of feeling, and Eleanor's quick perception understood the fullness of their meaning. The next morning was intensely sultry. As the party sat around the breakfast-table one and another compared dates and opinions upon other warm days-each as if he sought, by con- trast, to mitigate the discomfort he then endured, striving to paint his story in more fervid colors than his predecessor, until the ladies declared that the burdens laid upon their credulity were, together with the weather, too much to be borne. At each corner of the table was stationed a little negro, who swung his brush of peacock's plumes so lazily that the heated brows of the company received scarcely a breath of cooler air than that which slumbered, hot and heavy, within and with- out doors. The flies buzzed shrilly above the sweep of these inventions of the enemy for their disturbance-so continuous and sleepy a song, that the annoyed ear hailed, with savage satisfac- tion, the fiercer and faster hum consequent upon the occasional foray of a hungry hornet into their mazes. The girls were pretty and interesting, with their white dresses and flushed cheeks; the gentlemen, too inured to the climate to suffer lassitude or depres- sion of spirits from the high temperature, and the flow of chit- chat and gallant nothings went swimmingly on. Mrs. Moreau alone did not display the animation of the pre- ceding day.* She had a headache, and although too amiably polite to cast a shade over the rest, by cross or grave looks, was not successful in hiding the fact that she was in severe pain. 1 . NEMESIS. 327 "What can I do for you, my dear cousin?" inquired Kathe- rine, sympathizingly. "A headache, in this weather, must be intolerable. Is there no remedy for it except sleep and quiet?" "I never sleep while the pain continues," answered Eleanor. "Oftentimes, the best medicine is cheerful conversation. At others, Mr. Moreau reads aloud to charm away the evil." "As I do to mamma I She, too, is a victim to this terrible malady. Let me come to your room when you- lie down, as you must do very soon after breakfast, to bathe your head, -and read or talk to you." "You are a dear, sweet girl I' said Mrs. Moreau, gratefully. "But it would be selfish in Ine to rob your companions of you, or ,you of them." Katherine's place was next hers, and this fragment of the breakfast talk was by-play. "I forgive you the theft," was the response, and pledge my- self that they will not enter a complaint?' Here Sarah brought in a letter and laid it at the side of her mistress' plate. "From Master Malcolm," she said. Eleanor broke the seal and perused it, with a countenance of increasing seriousness. There was a pained, troubled expression in her eyes, as she folded it up, that impressed Katherine with the idea of a foiled hope and discontent tinctured with im- patience. "Well, Mrs. Moreau," said Mr. Sancroft, "shall we have the happiness of seeing your brother in our midst to-day?" "He says not." "What is the matter?" asked Mr. Moreau. "He is otherwise occupied, I suppose," returned his wife, after a pause. "I had hoped that his domestic habits were growing less inveterate ,"observed Mr. Armistead. "The accounts I have page: 328-329[View Page 328-329] 328 NEMESIS. heard of him lately, have encouraged. me to look for better things." A well-bred, but meaning smile went the rounds of the table, unseen by 3Katherine, whose eyes were bent upon her plate. Eleanor only was grave, and her silence throughout the remainder of the meal, was, to Katherine's sensitive fancy, that of perturbed meditation. Twelve o'clock and no abatement of the heat I The dogs lay panting in the, porches and under the trees ; the cows stood in the shade of the wiHows that overhung the spring stream, motionless, except when the drowsy tinkle of a bell told that its wearer stooped to the water ; the very insects were still in the grass, which parched and twisted in the white blaze that was over all. The gentlemen lounged, read and talked in the hall that ran- through the house, with doors at each end. The girls had fled from the propriety and full dress of the parlor, to the easy dishabille of their chamber. We use the word in the singu- lar number, for the four lodged in one large square apartment, amply lighted by six windows, all gaping for the breeze that favored none of them. . Martha Selden and Jenny Armistead, wrapped in loose gowns, lay upon one bed, reading different volumes of the same novel; Elizabeth Hunter, -similarly attired, dozed and fanned herself alternately, upon the other. *"Why don't you lie down, Katherine'?" she asked, in one of her semn-waking intervals. "Because I am not sleepy." "Neither was I, until I lay down, and now I cannot keep my eyes open. Just put up that everlasting stitching, and try the experiment. It makes me feel uncomfortable in conscience to see you so industrious." "I will put up my sewing willingly, forS I am lazily inclined myself, but I seardely ever -leep in the day-time. Besides, I N S XS E 8 I S. 329 promised to go to Mrs. Moreau, about twelve o'clock, and I heard it strike just now." "Tell her we hope her head is better," murmured Eilizabeth, turning over for a decided siesta. Mrs. Moreau's room was darkened, and she lay upon a settee, a bottle of scented water in her hand. "How are you now, my dear madam?" said Katherine solici- tously. "I am suffering excessively I How good it is in you to leave pleasant company, and subject yourself to my peevish complaints!" "Hush I ' Cheerful conversation' was the prescription--was it not? I shall not permit you to slander yourself." She took, the bottle and bathed the lady's head, then picked up her fan from the floor. "It is hard work to play the agreeable, sometimes!" said Eleanor. "I am in a poor plight for it to-day." "The headache affects the spirits more than any other malady," remarked Katherine. "That is not it 1 Other things trouble me." There was a short silence; Katherine doubting her right to pry into the nature of these 'other things,' and -Mrs. Moreau musing, with her eyes shut. "Ah, well 1" resumed the latter, trying to smile. "We all have our disappointments, petty and great; and if my hopes deceive me sometimes as to what the future will bring, it is the common lot of humanity. Only;.I feel that it would do me good to talk over my annoyances. But who would care to hear the tiresome story? Even my husband laughs and says, 'I make much ado about nothing '--the dear tease of -a fellow 1" "Unless it' is something which I ought not to know, you are welcome to my hearing and sympathy," replied Katherine, antici- pating some housekeeper's grievance of worthless servants or spoiled preserves. page: 330-331[View Page 330-331] 330 N E Ms S. "Something which you ought not to know I I could almost wish it were! But what am I saying? My head pains me so, now and then, that I forget myself. No, dear, there is no objection to your hearing everything that I would say, unless the tale will boreI you. The truth is, Katherine, I am worried ' almost to death, about Malcolm i" A start and a vivid blush showed how unexpectedly his name was introduced. "You cannot, conceive," continued Mrs. Moreau, "of the transformation in him, as he now appears, from what he was in our youth. How I loved that boy! tIe was so handsome, so gifted, so generous, that Jessie and I absolutely worshipped him. Marcia Carrington is still my friend, and yet I have wished, a thousand times, that she had never been born, or that she had -never crossed Malcolm's path. You must have heard the history of that old affair?" "I never have!" said Katherine, in a low voice. aIndeed I I supposed that you could not have lived in this neighborhood above four months; and not have listened to a dozen versions of it. Really, we cannot be such a gossiping commu- nity as, we are reputed to be. Are you not mistaken, dear? There was a revival of talk about this love-scrape, when Marcia was here in the spring and summer, and Malcolm's attentions to her fanned the flame. You may have forgotten conversations upon a topic that did not interest you particularly, but have you never heard Jessie or myself, or Miss Nancy Wilkinson speak of this, in connection with Malcolm's odd, misanthropical ways?" "I never have!" repeated Katherine, precisely as before. "How very strange I Well, then, you must know that they were engaged-Marcia and MalcoIm-before he went to Europe. He' was absent two years, and meanwhile, she -became acquainted with Stanhope Carrington. Marcia is one of the best creatures in the world, yet she has no positive character of her own. Mrs. l NEMESIS. -31 Selden is a wmenan of strong sense and a strong will; very fond " of her- children, and ambitious that they should marry advan- tageously. Malcolm had nothing except what poor papa would leave him at his death, and he was then a man in perfect health, who might live ten or fifteen years longer. Mr. Carrington was wealthy and his own master, very good-natured and desperately in love. So Mrs. Selden reasoned Marcia out of her early attachment, which, with a girl of her disposition, might well have died of itself, while Malcolm was out of sight. The dear boy came home, so happy and hopeful, that Marcia had not the heart to undeceive him immediately, and the farce of the engage- ment was kept up for a season. This made the blow heavier when it did fall. It nearly deprived him of reason, and from that day to this, he has been an altered being-the wreck you see him now." "The wreck!"Where was there another, unscathed in feel- ing and mind, who was his peer? . The whole -soul of the girl going out in love and compassion for the lonely, wronged man. Without one thought of self, she longed to comfort him ; to com- pensate to him for the bitter trial, the solitude of heart and home that had succeeded its agony. "After the marriages of, Jessie and myself, and our father's death," pursued Eleanor, "Malcolm resided at the homestead with his old nurse, and obstinately denied himself to all his former friends. His is not a common nature. The feeling that by Marcia was so easily overcome, was with him a passion such as no man can experience a second time. I knew this, for to me alone had he poured out his whole heart. When he told me that he could never love again as he had loved, Hbelieved him, but when he declared his intention never to marry, I hoped that he might breik his resolution. It seemed to-me expedient and desirable that he should seek out some lovely and intelligent woman who would be a congenial companion and 'solace, if she could not cheer him. I felt that it was his duty to makejthe . page: 332-333[View Page 332-333] -332 N ME E S I S. attempt to transfer )his affections, now that Marcia was lost to him forever. He would never hear the proposition' with the least patience, and finally I ceased to urge it. Thus stood mat- ters, when, for the first time since their sad parting, he met his early love last May. By the way, you were with me at the time. Do you recollect going to a meeting of Presbytery at Deep Run Church, soon after your coming to the county?" "Yes, madam." "And there meeting with my brother and Mrs. Carrrington?" "4 Yes, madam." "I had flattered myself that an interview with Marcia would go far toward curing Malcolm. Ten years had wrought -many alterations in the pretty girl he had loved so ardently. Mrs. Carrington is a fine looking woman yet, but so unlike the sylph- like figure whose blooming face he thought the perfection of feminine loveliness, that I dared to believe he would be thoroughly disenchanted at sight of her. I saw that'he was agitated, cold and reserved as he appeared to a casual looker-on of the interview. He told me afterward, that it was like tearing open an old wound. He could not remain in her presence more than a minute, and made an excuse to hurry away. I advised him, not to see her again, but he could not resist the fascination that drew him into her presence. While others rejoiced at his reappearance in our social gatherings, I mourned in secret over his infatuation, and ultimately determined upon an -appeal to his better self." Even Mrs. Moreau was obliged to ,pause here, choked as it appeareA by her emotions, in reality by the monstrous men- daciousness of her fluent story. By the aid of the scent-bottle she recovered her speech and composure. "I represented the suffering he was. bringing on himself; the needless and cruel embarrassment under which Marcia labored -whenever he approached her ; the fearful consequences 'that must attend upon Mr. Carrington's discovery of his unconquered attach- NEME I S. 333 ment, and besought him once again to seek other associations; to enter into other relations which would in time beguile him from this dangerous dream. He was much moved, promised to reflect seriously upon my counsel, and we parted. Upon my return I met him at your house, and was relieved to see him looking well and in tolerable spirits. I had previously written to him who were to compose our party for this week, and pressed him to join us, but had received no reply. That evening, on our way home, he said that he could not come. Yesterday I ven- tured to dispatch another invitation, an answer to which I had this morning. Here it is 1" Katherine's hand came into contact with hers as she passed over the note. It was cold as ice, and for a second the paper quivered so that she could not read. Then, steady and plain- she saw the following: MY DEAR ELEANOR: Your kind note was, brought to me an hour ago. Since then, I have fought-in vain with the multitude of sad thoughts that overwhelm me in my lonely retreat. I have tried-labored diligently, to follow the advice you gave me before you went away in July. I resolved to bury the past; to begin a new, calm life, which should by and by bring me the happiness you promised. I cannot! It is my misfortune, not a crime, that I am faithful to the memory of what you term " a dream, and a mischievous one." I am not like other men. Why do further violence to my nature? I send you the fragment I penned last night, in my excitement-in one of what Aunt Bab calls my "paoods"--that you may understand what a fitful creature your brother is. To-day I am cool and resolute. The scheme I abandoned in my retrospective visions of the night-time, is promising in the day-light. Ask an explanation of these hints when you see me. But mny resolution is too new-is not sufficiently seasoned, to bear me safely through the meetings I must undergo at your house. I never see Martha S--- without a pang and a deadly struggle. I cebnnot meet her where I was wont in " lang syne," to see her fairer prot6type. Call me cowardly if you like. I acknowledge it. But the poor wretch o/ ' * 1 ^ - 'J * J page: 334-335[View Page 334-335] 334 N E ME S I 8. who, has lived through ninety-nine tortures is no more willing to endure the hundredth than he was the first. Excuse me to your visitors as well as you can. Please say especially to Miss Rasheigh; that I regret my inability to pay my respects to her at present. Your loving, but wayward brother, MALCOLM ARGYLE. Katherine Rasheigh was proud as well as affectionate. The words that pierced her bosom like so many arrows, outraged a spirit that sprang to its arms. The heart that seemed bleeding its last from these wounds, *as yet capable of anger so deep, indignation so stern, that its dying, groans were hushed at their command. Mrs. Moreau had looked for a scene-pathetic or stormy. She saw, instead, a composure which her years of practice had not taught her to emulate. Katherine turned the letter, and read it once; more. It was no fond, silly, lingering over the famniliar characters, although the first sight of them had caused a rush of sadly sweet thoughts-recollections of the- treasured notes she had at home; locked away from other eyes, and strewed with sweethrier' leaves--the flower to which he had likened her, and which- he confessed he loved for her sake. On the hot air, there seemed to steal to her a breath of their perfume, as her eyes fell U on" the fatal letter. It haunted her no more, when she had reid half-way down the page. The second perusal was a delibe- rate:binding into sheaves of the harvest of dragon's teeth, whose seedwere sown in her rash confidence in a stranger ; her surrender of:her- hearths whole wealth at a few specious words, a few looks thtt prOmised her a recompense for her loss. - s i'f newt, calm life,' that was to bring him forgetfulness of the past ;'this' scheme," abandoned in his mourning over that pasts; re-resolved upon, in the daylight of sober, selfish reflections I D'S Ars. Moreau indee&drequire an explanation of these " hints,' /' JL JDM XL,. J. K * I VVV or were brother and sister alike skilled in deception? Had Eleanor penetrated, the secret of her- wasted love, and taken this method to check her blind folly? With the suspicion, cain a curl of scorn to the red lip, and a fiery spark to the eye. "I fear that I have not acted honorably in reading this note," she said, gravely. "It was meant for your eye alone." "You read it at my request. If there is any blame, it rests with me. But tell me I can you understand it? Does it not appear to you as an incoherent, mysterious affair? To what scheme does he allude?' And how could his coming hither affect it? It is an enigma to me!" "If you have not the key, it should be a greater puzzle tome -a mere acquaintance," returned Katherine. "He promises an explanation, you observe." "It is a dreadful thing, when a man throws his whole life-time away for a boyish fancy!" said Eleanor, sadly. "uI am afraid- that he is bent upon some desperate step-what I cannot divine.", "Nothing worse than matrimony probably," said Katherine, with bold carelessness. "In exchange for -his weather-beaten heart, he hopes to get one, whole, uninjured and-womanly I that shall play lantern to a scene, which the sun has forsaken, forever.,. It is the way with men. Unlike the rest of his kind, as he says he is, he yet resembles them in this." "Do not despise him,- Katherine 1"Mrs. Moreau lifted her eyes, with a sudden-:dawn of painful consciousness in them. It was as if a startling revelation had been whispered in her ear. "Despise him, Mrs. Moreau [ Why should I not continuton respecthim? I honor his fidelity, and do not wonder thathp finds it impossible to transfer his affections. It is a genuiMe romance, that has wiled away a sultry hour, to myen:r te s faction." '/What had I better write in reply? "I can dictate nothing that your sense of right and yo0ir sis .T page: 336-337[View Page 336-337] 336 NEMESIS. terly sympathy would not prompt you to say. Pray thank him foir his message of compliments to myself, and present mine in return." The chamber was growing closer and more gloomy ; the still- ness weighed upon the. senses, as does the premonition of evil uipon the heart. "It is very dark'l" complained Eleanor, looking. up at the Window. Katherine replied by drawing aside the thick curtain. A pall of bluish grey enshrouded the heavens, tossed up, here and there, into black waves, and edged, at the horizon with a brassy tinge that reflected a lurid light over the landscape. The air had a sul- phurous smell, and the lungs labored, as they inhaled it. There was a solemn pause throughout Nature, as if the mighty heart of the Earth had ceased to beat, in the anticipation of the coming shock. "There will be a violent storm!" exclaimed Mrs. Moreau, for- getting her headache, -and rising briskly, "I must have the win- dows closed 1" She left the room, and her call to the servants was followed by a banging to of doors and slamming down of windows, all over the, house. :Katherine remained at the casement ; enchained by a species of fcscination in the resemblance of the wild, lowering scene with- out to the sullen, awful calm that brooded upon her soul. She was free to weep unobserved, if she were so disposed, but, as with the frowning clouds overhead, some of the angry electricity must be spent, before the rain could fall. As a zigzag stream of fire tore through the bosom of the cloud, and the growling thunder replied, she descried a figure, gallop- ing-along the public road, which ran but three or four hundred yards from the front of the house. It passed the gate-then, as a- second flash brought the thunder nearer, it turned and entered the Moatrouge plantation. N E:-M Es 8 I. 337 Katherine had known him at once. There was not such another rider in the county. With the speed of the wind that followed fast after him, he swept down the lane. Mr. Moreau ran out to welcome him, but he rode on to the stables,. that his dumb favorite might be safely housed. This trivial instance of his care for creatures lowly and helpless, awakened a sickening pain in Katherine's breast. She left the window, to seek her room, and prepare for the inevitable interview she now dreaded unspeak- ably. Mrs.'Moreau met her at the door. "Malcolm has come!" she said, in a guarded tone, lest she might be overheard. You will not suffer what I have told you to affect your'manner toward him-or your feelings-will y6u ,? Katherine was able to laugh-to confront the searching eyes that questioned of deeper things than did the uttered words. "How can you ask? If Mr. Argyle were my friend, instead of papa's-my lover, and not Mrs iCarrington's rejected suitor, you might indeed feel uneasy. But set your mind at rest. Your secret, or your brother's-whichever it may be called-is safe with me." As Malcolm entered the front hall, with his host, he saw the flutter of her white skirt at the head of the stairs, and herd, in - the echoing gallery above, the roundelay she warbled to her chamber door-- "'Twas within a mile of Edinboro' town, In the rosy time of the year; - Sweet flowers bloomed, and the grass was down And each shepherd wooed his dear. Bonnie Jockfy,'blithe and gay--" 15 page: 338-339[View Page 338-339] NEMES IS. I -gi J?EW CHAPTER XXTV. A A PEAL of thunder jarred the house to its foundations, as Katherine entered her room, and a concert of screams broke forth from the young ladies all huddled together in the middle of the floor. "Katherine Rasheigh I how can you sing?1" cried Martha Selden. "Are you not afraid? I think it is almost wicked. It is like tempting Providence." ; My only dread is lest we should keep dinner waiting," said Katherine, "I expected to find you all dressed." "Who can think of dress, in such a fearful storm?" replied Elizabeth, half crying. "I am so terribly seared-oh!" Again- the three threw their arms about each other's necksl' and hid/their blanched faces in each other's dishevelled hair; while Katherine, in the reaction of feeling affected by the-ludicrous sceene dropped into a chair and laughed -until the tears rolled down her cheeks. At another time, she would have experienced something of awe, if not of alarm, at the war of- the elements ; would assuredly have been superior to the affectation of presumptu- ous-levity, with which she astonished her trembling comrades. Proceeding to the business of the toilet which the frightened trio were, in their individual cases, incapable as yet of completing, she loosened her hair and shook it out, admonishing them anew, that "the table was set for dinner, when she came up." "Iow brate you are l!"said Elizabeth, tremulously. "It seems to me, that-however terrified I might be, I should still, NE M E SI S. - :339 ! 'like Coesar, resolve to die decently," replied Katherine. "Ima- !d gine our gallant knights rushing up at our shrieks, and discover- -i ing us in our present unbecoming plight. I mean to faint away decorously-gracefully-after I am dressed, if the Storm-King will favor me with a clap sufficiently loud for an excuse." "I don't believe that you are afraid of anything 1" said Jenny Armistead. "If I were to talk as you do, I should expect to be struck dead as a judgment." Katherine smiled-her face ghastly for a second, with the pale glare of the lightning. 'Her unsaid thought was that it would be a kind bolt, which should end a life so barren and aimless as hers was now. Quieted in some degree, by her example and presence, the; girls summoned the thought and strength requisite to enable them to finish their dressing, and, still clinging together, descended to the drawing-room. . A pallid and interesting group, they presented themselves before the gentlemen, whose stock of gay and comfort- ing sayings bade fair to restore the lost bloom and smiles. Kathe- rine came in last and alone; her unaltered complexion and,:-col- lected air, a striking contrast to the pretty terrors of the others. A glance showed her, Malcolm, rising with his .companions-at the ladies' entrance, and the smile, that brought a- glad- light to his eye, as it fell upon her. Again that sick pain at her heart I Such a throb Eve may have felt, in looking back upon the Pawra- dise which could never more be hers. He seemed about to ad- vance; his hand was partly outstretched-but, marking the for- mal, set expression of her countenance, he paused and bowed in- stead. She returned a deep courtesy, and took a seat offered to her by Mr. Mpreau. Mr. Sancroft established himself in' another by her side, without the delay of a moment. "You are a heroine, Miss Rasheigh!" "Indeed she -is 1 called out Elizabeth. "She has beetsaying the funniest things upstaiS! laughing at Us and carry'g on, as page: 340-341[View Page 340-341] 'SO E A NEMESIS, if nothing were the matter. I never saw such a girl before, in my life " "Nor I!" said Mr. Sancroft, meaningly, and inaudibly to all excepting her to whom he spoke. A redder flush arose to Katherine's cheek at his manner. She would have replied with a spirit that might check further, and perchance, more offensive compliments; but, happening to look at Malcolm, she saw his penetrating gaze, the slight curve of the mouth, that indicated his knowledge of the purport of the remark. Hers was too noble and pure a nature to, stoop to deliberate coquetry, but, just now, she was not herself. She had but one formed -design-to hide her deadly hurt; to brave his scrutiny and baffle it, as she did the prying eyes of the world. She could not talk with him, witnout attracting attention by her haughtiness ; or, should this prove a treacherous support, an agitation still more destructive to her plan; yet a studied avoidance of him would be noticed by Mrs. Moreau, if by no one else. In these circumstances, Mr. Sancroft was, for the only time in all their in- tereourse, the most welcome person who could have approached her. Did the crafty suitor suspect this? Malcolm's aversion to him was better understood by him, than by the girl whose wooers they both were. His ingenuity, ever fertile, could have invented no surer method of keeping his rival aloof than his own contiguity to Katherine. In pursuance of this policy, he handed her in to dinner, aifd was her attentive neighbor there; while Malcolm, totallyh indifferent as to who his companion was, aroused himself to appear agreeable to Martha Selden, whom seeming accident placed next to him. She resembled Mrs. Carrington in features, voice, and manner. It might have been the Marcia of his boyhood, who talked with him of courtships, abstract and practical, and related anecdotes of her homeland .family, where "' Mal " rule was still despotic, varied by a start and a faint exclamation, as the lightning played ! ) ) E NEMESIS. 841 near, or the thunder's reverberation drowned all other sounds. Katherine sat opposite, chatting with the enraptured Sancroft. Malcolm could no longer mistake the fact of her altered bearing toward himself ;' however vainly or erroneously he might specu- late as to the origin of her coldness. During half the time they were at table, he wavered between the impulse to depart in the storm, immediately the meal was concluded, or to remain and ascertain, at all hazards, who or what had poisoned her mind against him. If his pride revolted at the idea of engaging, in the lists, the despised pettifogger, it bristled equally at the sug- gestion that he should leave him the field. A trifle sent the latter scale up to the beam. "Elizabeth I Jenny I Katherine! do hear this naughty man 1" cried Miss Selden, childishy./ "He says that all women are mercenary-that he never saw one who would not sell her heart for money 1" "Shocking!" said Elizabeth. "Abominable!" ejaculated Jenny. "High treason!" denounced Mr. Armistead, solemnly. "Re, tract, Mr. Argyle I and sue for mercy to the gracious powers that be P" "I deny the justice of the indictment," replied the accused. "Miss Martha has mistaken my meaning" "You said that every lady had her price 1" interposed that' damsel. "Granted I but not that that price was to be told in gold 'or silver coin. I should never'be pardoned by your sex, were I to intimate that a woman's heart is ever given unasked, unboudght. Ergo, each of you has your price-like for like-heart 'for heart-lqve for love. Equitable barter is the law of Cupid's Court." And you think a man's heart is worth a woman's "' said Elizabeth, doubtfully. page: 342-343[View Page 342-343] 342 NEMESI S. "I do not say that, only that a woman must believe it, or she would not surrender hers." "What do you say, Katherine? Are we cheated in such bargains? or, do we generously yield the -advantage? or, is it an even exchange?" interrogated Elizabeth, playfully. Jesting as the discussion had been, up to this appeal, Mal- colm's look was eager, as he listened for the reply. How clear and sweet, and yet how destitute of its usual softness, was her tone I "If nothing is kept back from the price for which a woman stipulates, she receives a just equivalent ; or, as Mr. Argyle says, she thinks it is all right, which amounts to the same thing. I incline to the opinion, however, that Ananias and Sapphira left a large family, whose male descendants are numerous." "I don't understand you .v, said Martha Selden. "What does she mean, Mr. Argyle?" "The question is one of sale or barter, not of charity, Miss Rasheigh," rejoined Malcolm. "Still your allusion is apt, and-not difficult to be understood. You imply that while women are honest in:theiro payment of heart-coin, and transfer the wealth of their affections to the last farthing, men 'sometimes-most frequently, indeed-tender half or even quarter hearts in exchange. Have I interpr6ted rightly?" "You have, and I am obliged to you for your courteous explanation." Their looks met. Hers was instantly averted; but Ilalcolm thougfht no, more of speedy departure. He would stay until he found the solution of -all this. The thunder and the lightning ceased soon after dinner; but -the hcavy rain continued without intermission. -Outwardly, it was a lively company, but to two of its members, it was a wretchedly dreary and tedious afternoon. Mrs. Moreau had sent over to Briarwood, that morning, for Kathrerine's lute, and as N EM E S I S . 343 twilight drew near, the unanimous call was for music. Katherine sang patiently and* sweetly whatever was requested of her. At length, there was a pause in the demand. She sat in the fading light of a window, unconscious of the picturesque figure she presented to the view of the rest; a picture, in which her white neck, arms, and face made the brighter-her dress, and the curls, drooping from the head, bowed over the instrument, the darker portions. ' ; Malcolm watched her, from his corner, with a pained, yearning, and how anxious a heart I What was the chill cloud between' them? Did she then dpubt the reality,- the entireness of his love? What lurking meaning was there in her sarcastic repartee at table, unless she questioned the sincerity, the depth of an affection which he had perhaps been too backward in declaring was all hers? But should the want be in her own heart I Had he staked his last hope of earthly joy upon her, but to lose19 everything? And in the horoi -that overwhelmed-him at-- the supposition, he had some foretaste of what this second death ofe love would be. A trembling chord from the lute arose above the sound of the sweeping rain; a mournful prelude touched the lightest heart there- ' , "When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye a' at liame, When a?, the weary world to sleep are gane." These simple words, sighed forth in the weariness of a bur- dened spirit, thrilled the auditors to an intensity of ifterest the songstress did not suspect. In her pure, musical accent, she went on with the story, that has lived, for near a century,- in: the hearts and upon the tongues of the young- and loving. - The subdued pathos of the earlier stanzas swelled into passionate- sorrow, as she sang the closing verse : page: 344-345[View Page 344-345] -,J44 ST NEMESIS. ' Oh! sair did we greet and muckle did we say, We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away; I wish Inwere dead! but I'm no' like to dee; And why do I live to say, I wae is me!' I gang like a ghaist, and carena' to'spin; I darena' think of Jamie, for that wad be a sin; But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, For Auld Robin Gray is a kind mon to me!" The rain wept and the wind moaned at the windows, and the forms scattered through the dim room were motionless as that now faintly visible beneath the darkening casement. Thus for one minute, then a servant came in with candles. The lute fell to the floor with a discordant ring of the tense strings, and while Mr. Sancroft darted forward to pick it up, Katherine brushed past him and left the room. Only Malcolm espied the glistening tear upon her cheek, and in a chaotic maze of wonder, pity and love, he hardly knew what he did or said until summoned to the illuminated-supper-table, where Katherine, radiant and fascinating, was again his vis-a-vis, and Mr. Sancroft her most devoted. The children were allowed to sit up an hour beyond their regu- lar bedtime, at the earnest request of Jenny Armistead and :Martha Selden, who proposed a romping- game by way of " fun " on the "miserable blue evening." Mr. Moreau headed the frolic, which shortly became too loudly furious for Malcolm's taste. Katherine had seized a favorable moment to escape from the room, and he,awaited her return with the fast-forming purpose of forcing upon her a decisive interview. tHe leaned against the mantel in gloomy. meditation, and young Armistead, from the other side of the room, made various efforts to catch his attention, without being: observed by the noisy party who were " roundingsthe goose- berry bush " in the centre of the. apartment. NEMESIS. 345' Montrouge was affluent in porches. Besides the square front one-a good sized room of itself--there were an eastern and a western at each end of the mansion, and a long piazza in the rear, extending the entire length of the house except where a jutting wing shut it up at one extremity. Mr. Armistead chanced to station himself by a window that commanded this portico, and gazing idly forth at the shimmer from the lighted parlor upon the wet leaves of the vines trained up to the, roof, thought that he saw a figure pass and repass between them and himself., Looking back into the room, he perceived Katherine's absence, and doubted not that she was the lonely promenader. The generous fellow had a brief, but rather sharp struggle with inclination before he brought himself to apprise. another, whose right he supposed to exceed his own, of the discovery he had made. K ie was tslightly smitten with Katherine, just enough to make it an act of self- denial to afford Malcolm the opportunity he fancied he 'desired-.a: private conversation with her. Seeing that his signals:weroe unheeded he crossed over to him, and said aside : "Come with me into the hall, I have something to say to you." "Where now?" called Mr.:Moreau. "To 'take a comfortable smoke -be back presently 1' reiUed Armistead. :' Mr. Argyle," he continued, as the hubbub within the parlor recommenced, " if I am taking an offensive liberty you. can knock me down or forgive me, whichever you choose. I am actuated by nobe but kind motives in imparting to you a bit of information you may or may not care' to use. There is OtIady walking alone in that porch; whether expectant or nonexpec- taut, willing or unwilling, you perhaps know-I don't! 'I am going to smoke in the west porch, and should like, for thesaakeeof appearances and Mrs. Grundy, to return to, the parlor with. you- when you are quite ready. Don't hurry on my account. It is immaterial to me whether I take one, two, or three pipes?. Time was, and not a month ago, when. Malcoimowould have 15* page: 346-347[View Page 346-347] 3W16 NEMESIS. regarded this address as a master-piece of flippancy and imperti- nence. To-night-paradoxical as it may seem-he was desperate enough to be reasonable. - He squeezed the kind-hearted young man's hand until the knuckles slipped from their sockets.. "I shall never forget your goodness!" he said. "You have made me your debtor for life!" Katherine, wrapt in a large dark shawl, as much to elude observation as to protect her shoulders and chest from the damp- ness, paced, swiftly from end to end of the portico, heart and head throbbing with the violence and number of her emotions. And she-had come to this I she, who in her airy castles had garnered a love which was to make amends for her past penury of affection ; who, of late, had seen this cherished chimera grow into solidity and beauty; changed from a dream of the misty, far-off To-come, into the most glorious blessings of her Now I She gnawed her lip, as she bethought herself of her unveiled heart; the crystal well into which she had suffered him to look whenever-it pleased him, and where he could not but have seen his own image, idealized into the perfection of manhood by her loving imagination I "Deceived I deceived 1" she said, with the anguished moan the words must ever wring from a soul that has trusted as fondly as blindly, and she murmured aloud: "I wish I were dead, but I'm no' like to dee, And why do I live to say, ' wae is me!" "Katherine P" The girl turned with a start and stood upon the defensive. Malcolm noted her attitude, dark 'though it was; heard the hard-drawn breath, and could picture to himself the resolute hauteur with which she prepared to hear him. Will you permit me to walk a little while with you?" he asked. "Are you properly shielded from the air?" ! f N E MESIS. 34 i "u I am.' "You are offended with me, Katherine. What have I done to forfeit your regard!" "I have no cause to be offended with you, and you no reason to suppose that you have lost ground in myesteem. If my manner is changed, I am not responsible for this universal frailty of my sex--am I?" said she, with ill-concealed bitterness. "You are wasting your breath if you are trying to convince me that KatherinpeRasheigh is the creature of caprice, who can throw aside a friend as she would a worn glove. For four months back, you have been my constant study. If you intended to delude me as to your character, or a solitary trait of it, you should have begun the work long ago. I entreat you to be, for one moment, if no more, the frank girl from whom I parted two days since, and tell me how I have angered you." Katherine tried to say, "I am not angry;" but she could not "i repeat the falsehood. - "Will you listen jto me, if you do not choose to, or cannot speak?' She bowed. "I am not the man to sue for the: favor of any mortal, Kathe- rine. Never, since my boyish days,'have-I said to a woman-what I am impelled now to utter to you. I love you and It love nothing upon earth beside. Katherine, will you be my wife? BJ1 She stood still, her hands clasped over her breast, her head bowed-the obscurity prevented him from seeing more. The rain beat mournfully upon the roof, and dripped from leaf to leaf of the vines. "Katherine!" He took one of the nerveless' hands in his fer- vent pressure. "This -is not said in audacious haste; nor do I presume to assert or to think- that I can offer you anything com- mensurate with- the value of the gem I crave. You have brought to my loveless, monotonous life' the promise of a second spring, page: 348-349[View Page 348-349] 3s38 X EE M1 .B I more prodigal of blessings than was the first. You have called me ' friend,' and confessed that I could enter into your feelings with a full sympathy for your grief or joy. This recollecton has been my encouragement when I reflected upon the disparity of our ages-upon your young, buoyant spirit, and mine, soured by disappointments-worn by years and care. But the spring of affection is there yet-stronger, more constant in its gushings than when the boy would have flung the world away for love and deemed it well lost. -Can you learn to love me in return?" Oh, the sorrowful dash of that heavy rain tI It seemed to beat down his hopes to the earth, with the dying leaves from the summer plants-beat them into a grave fEom which there would be no resurrection I He could not mistake her silence for the coy trifling or the speechless modesty of a loving girl. There was no magnetic thrill in the chill, passive fingers he held, no flutter of the breath, he could hear, as he leaned toward her. She. might be grieved-she could not but be compassionate for him under the consequences of his- self-deceptioJ; but there was no hope--none I And, as his heart fainted beteath -this terrible certainty, he leaned against the wall and covered his face with his hands. Katherine struggled with the numb apathy that held her in its spell. .. 'tMr. Argyle," she began, "I regret this conversation. I would have spared you this pain if I could have foreseen " "For, pity's sake, do not madden me by hackneyed phrases I They may soothe the wounds of some hearts. They are worse than zmeaning to one poverty-stricken as mine-that asked for everything and received nothing!" -"I am very sorry . . But. he would not hear. He strode ,away impatiently ; -then came back to her. 'I will trothle you with one question more," he said, more H E M E8I8... B I 9 calmly. "Is your decision influenced by representations made to you by others-the result of prejudice, engendered by their state- ments of my character or habits--or is it predicated upon what you yourself know concerning me? ,There is certainly one:enemy of mine in this house; how many more, I do not pretend to judge. As to friends--I am not aware that I have one here,-I might add--or elsewhere 1" i "You are unjust to your well-wishers. They .are more in number than you suppose. As to your question, I can truly say that I have not heard a word to your detriment in this, or any other house in this country. I have decided for myself." "I thank you for being so frank with me. It is the .truest kindness, severe as it may appear to- me now. Farewell, Kathe- rine!" Mr. Armistead, his chair tilted upon its hind legs, his feet upon the railing of the sheltered porch, smoked in ease- of body and mind. The combination of choice tobacco and the consciousness of having performed a meritorious action, was ineffably soothing. What were the sighing 'wind, the plashing rain, but so many accessories to his sense of snug comfort-provocatives to reveries, that pointed to his own participation at Cupid's appointed-time, in evening strolls and sentimental confabulations with some slender-waisted, ripe-lipped houri, with eyes as bright and voice as sweet as Katherine Rasheigh's? Since he could not have this one himself, he greatly preferred that an honorable grentfle man, like Malcolm Argyle, should win her than " that jackanapes of a Sancroft. The gambling cheat " he subjoined, :withiavehe- mence that was suspiciously like the smarting of a- personal injury. A footstep in the flooded walk that wound, past his nook, diverted his ideas. It tramped furiously-some nocturnalwan- derer was in headlong haste. "Hallo i who goes there? hailed the free and easy youth. page: 350-351[View Page 350-351] 350 N EMESS. Ah!" said Malcolm's voice. "I forgot you!" "Never mind me. Where are you going." "Home! that is-to Ben Lomond." "In this flood I Are you distracted? I don't believe you can cross the-creek. You will be swept away!" "No danger F" It was as if he had said, "No such good fortune "' He came up the steps. "You meant to deal very kindly by me. Receive my thanks for your attention. Say what you like, in the parlor," The other nodded, sagaciously, "Depend upon me to keep my own counsel and make up a plausible tale. Take my oilskin coat and umbrella-won't you? You are as wet'as a drowned rat already i" "There is the less reason for accepting your offer. Good night!" and he ran down in the direction of the stables. ' Sh-sh-sh-ew l' Mr. Armnistead drew in his breath, with a hissing sound, expressive at once of sympathy and astonishment. "Poor fellow 1 I know how it feels. But who would have thought it? Does the girl hope to marry a live lord, or can she intendto throw herself away on Sancroft? I would take her myself,:-rather than that should happen I - Well, since the- deed is done, there is no need of my mounting guard any longer in this damp box. Now, to cudgel my wits for an excuse for his French leave, that shall be as far off from the truth as conscience will let me-go: 1" ' He won't be here to-night, that's settled," said Miss Barbara, returning to her sitting-room, after the hundredth survey of the weather. "He has taken shelter somewhere-maybe at Briar- wood. She ain't there, but young men in love have a mighty hankering after the ga's kinfoaks. It's nat'ral." She rang the bell, and Tony presently showed his head at the outer door. "Bring in the stable keys, and lock up the house," ordered Miss N E IE B . ooi 'Barbara, and she began to clear away the plates and cups from a round table set before a bright, tiny fe, which had heen kindled to " keep his supper warm." "Ain't not marster pretendin' to return to night?" inquired the body-servant. "He have not left any message of that specie - ' with me." " Who but a drunkard or a crazy man would ride in this rain, 3 if he could light upon a- tobacco-barn, with half a roof on, you simpleton?" demanded the housekeeper, tartly. "Sorry to hear sech a melancholy import of my poor marster," said the pert fellow, assuming a rueful visage. "He must be mad or 'toxicated one-for that am Sprightly's hoof splashing down the road, if ever I heerd a horse gallop." "You don't say so 1" 'Miss Barbara rushed to the door, then back again to the tI 'table'; replaced the tea-things, and seizing a turkey-wing, fanned the fire to a lively blaze by the-time Malcolm entered-drenched ! to the skin and pale as death. a , Don't set down I do you want to ketch your death?" cried ; BlJ'Miss Barbara, as he threw himself upon the settee. "Walk :]s up and down the room, as fast as ever you can, while I run for cdry clothes." These brought, she jerked out a bunch of keys from herhand.- basket, and trouted off to the dining-room. While she stood at the side-board, 'ixing a glass of hot toddy, Tonyappeared, with -!a request for a little brandy or whisky, to bathe Sprightly's legs. "Are you stark staring lmad?"Miss Barbara was aghast at his impertinence. "Not that I knows on, Miss Barbara; but you was right It. when you said that marster was. Twould make:the. heart:of grindstone shod tears, to see that 'ere critter a-trembW like she'd drop, and a-perspirin' with mud and larther. And-he sot f 1much store by her 1 It's mycompressionihe seen a sperrit tothe page: 352-353[View Page 352-353] 352 N EM XES I S. s side of the bridge. Thar's been many a parson sot upon by the haunts in them--those low-grounds.", "Go to Guinea, with your 'haunts' and your fine gram. mar!" snapped Miss Barbara, pouring out a tumbler of whisky. "Thar! see that it goes upon Sprightly's legs and not into your throat!" But what she had heard excited her alarm, and prepared her for the gloomy countenance she beheld, when she returned to the room where she had left Malcolm. With a failing heart and a cheerful look, the faithful foster-mother proffered her preventive cordial. "It's the best thing in nater for you!" she said, as he motioned it away. "Better drink it, my dear boy 1" He took the glass and sipped it. "And now, I'll have your- hot coffee ready in a trice!" she pursued, stirring open the bed of-coals. "I have been to supper." / "Where at?" "Montrouge." Miss Barbara's limbs gave way, and she dropped into a chair. Malcolm saw the consternation depicted in every line and wrinkle, and knew the direction of her fears. He was not altogether friendless. So lonely of spirit-so bowed down was he then, that he would not have spurned a dog that crept to his knee with eyes of pity and of love. He knelt down before her-the homely and uncultivated woman whom others deemed a household drudge-and hid his face in her lap. "It is all over, Aunt Bab!" She held his head close to her bosom, and her tears rained upon his hair. "My boy I my poor boy 1 what can I say to comfort you? She couldn't have been worthy of you, dear, or she'd never have led NEMESIS. 363 N E M E S I S . 353 you on so far, and then broken your heart. The time will come -if the Lord ever punishes such cruel doin's in this world-- when she'll weep and pray for the love she won't have now." "And I pray that she may never know a thousandth part of the misery she has cost me!" said Malcolm, rising. "She must not be blamed, Aunt Bab. She is innocent of intentional wrong. User feeling for me was that of a child for an elderly friend. She would have saved me the pains of a dismissal, but like a blind fool I did not see what she was trying -to do. I can tell you nothing more. I am not worth these tears--so dry them, if you love me 1 I have never caused any one else half the unhappiness I have you, who have done everything for me."' He kissed her cheek, and went off to his desolate chamber. The old nurse wept alone upon the hearthstone, far into the rainy night that had brought this great sorrow upon her darling ; mourned, in the singleness of her devotion, that he was only hers --that he, the joy of her life, the light of her aged eyes, had not forgotten her in the raptures of a successful love that would have assigned to her for evermore a subordinate place in his heart and home. i . page: 354-355[View Page 354-355] j a, N E ESI S. CHAPTER XXV. MR. MOREAU rode over to Briarwood next day, to inquii after the welfare of his tmcle, and to report Katherine's co tinued health and happiness. The Colonel was out on the plaE tation, and his nephew joined him there, relieved that he was nc to sit during his call, beneath the still grave eyes of his auntir law, of whom he stood in far greater awe than of her more pre tentiously dignifed lord. The two gentlemen had a friendly ride and chat together the elder, aphoristic and patronizing ; the younger, humbly teach able. Every British innovation upon "crude -American agri culture," projected by the Colonel, was the acme of practical wisdom, and his " remarkable " dissertations upon soils, seeds and climates proved him to be a mammoth Encyclopaedia-a prodigy of erudition. Mr. Moreau had never been so nearly co-heir with his cousin as when, their round completed, they stopped inside the great gate of the domain to exchange parting remarks. "And while I think of it," said Moreau, drawing nearer the old: gentleman's ear, "you have transferred your accounts to iaramond, I hear." "I have." "And a very prudent measure it was l" said the nephew. "Not that I question Sancroft's integrity. The poor fellow has his enemies--as one must have who is a strict collector--the agent selected to do the disagreeable jobs which those who em- ploy him shirk themselves; but I have no ground for branding him as slippery. Nevertheless, these are times that try men's NEMESIS. 355 souls, and each one of us must save himself if he can; reversing the sense of the legal maxim, we must believe every man a rogue until he is proved to be honest. You could not have picked out a sharper watch-dog than Hammond. He is my lawyer also. And that reminds me that I have some business with him to-day. "I Will you go over to see him with me?" "As I remarked, a while ago, I have an appointment at eleven o'clock with the builder, who is to put up the new wing," replied the Colonel, " or I would accompany you with pleasure." "Ah i I had forgotten! I am very sorry to be obliged to take the ride alone, when, but for that unfortunate engagement, I might have had so delightful a companion. Have you any message for Hammond?" :Iili " None-or, you may ask how he is progressing with my business, and whether he has detected any errors in the bills. Between ourselves, Robert, I have not the implicit confidence in Sancroft which you express . "I may be excused for trusting an old acquaintance," said Mr., Moreau, heroically. 'I should have been culpable indeed to have confided your interests, so much more precious than my own, to him, had my belief in his honesty ever wavered." L. - "Certainly, my boy i"The rare and kind phrase made Moreau's ; heart leap with joy. "You did everything for the best. Never doubt that I keep this in mind. But, as you have said, these are j times that imperatively demand - precautionary measures. I hope that you are right-altogether right, with regard to your agent. I am growing old, and it may be, timorous." "Do not shame me by apologies, my dear sir I I repeat, your action was judicious-eminently judicious I I am, then, to see how Hammond is working and hurry him a little if he is i; dragging things along at the snail pace he chooses sometimes?" ' By all means, expedite the affair, if you can. NFothing dis- pleases me more than dilatoriness in business." !'i ; page: 356-357[View Page 356-357] "Hammond is apt to be surly, if interfered with. I do not care to appear to pick a quarrel. Do you object to giving me a line that shall certify to my authority to make what investigations I may think best?" "The word of a gentleman should be enough!" returned the Colonel, loftily. Moreau shrugged his shoulders. "Hammond boasts of know. ing no castes or rank in his profession. But I can assert my rights to any one-attorney or gentleman. Good morning, sir. My respects to the ladies" " "Stay!" The Colonel pencilled something upon a leaf of his pocket-book, and tearing it out, folded it into the form of a note. "It is unnecessary to have any words about a trifle. Give this to Mr. Hammond from me. Say to Katherine that we are well, and glad that she is enjoying herself. I shall meet her at church on the Sabbath." The thought of her absence, although he-missed her more than he would have done the sunshine, was not the drawhack to' his complacency, as he mounted the hill upon which his house was situated. Ashis head recovered from the intoxicating fumes of the' flattery his nephew had administered, he awoke to the con- seionsness of an imprudent action, or, at best, one whose expe- { diency his clear-sighted wife would question. Slow to receive i impressions, he was exceedingly tenacious of an idea when it was I adopted, and his distrust of Sancroft was ineradicable. He ! believed that to this prejudice was to be ascribed ,the doubt he felt as to the propriety of countenancing Moreau's surveillance ! of. the business, so lately taken from the agent of his choice. In reality,ithe'discomfort was the stirring life within a seed dropped by his home-counsellor-casually, it seemed--a little while before, a slight slur upon the stability, the moral courage and business talent of the'plausible nephew. ":But," said the Colonel to himself, "what harm can arise i i 1N N i S M i 1 D. O i o from this trifling indiscretion-if I am to consider it as such? Robert is strongly attached to me, and his intentions are good, however faulty his judgment may be." And thus comforting himself, he determined to refrain from any mention of the verbal and written authority he had granted to one who did not enjoy Mrs. Rasheigh's full confiderce. "Oh 1" remonstrates a wedded Phillis. "Is this the man you have heretofore held up to us, as a model of conjugal devotion? who loved and trusted his wife, and relied upon her advice more than upon that of any other person? Here is one of the 'improbabilities' spoken of in your 'Introduction I' I should die of grief if I believed that my Corydon could so insult me, by a partial confidence. I thank my stars that his every thought is mine ; that he throws open his heart to me, to enter as I will. There are no Bluebeard chambers there." Dear and respected Mrs. Phillis I if-all the now happy wives who are insulted in this manner, were to resolve with you, and 5 carry out your fine resolution, not to survive their disgrace, what rapid fortunes would be realized by those benefactors to the sex masculine, who provide ready-made mourning-suits -at the shortest possible notice I What belles would Anastasia, and Sappho, and Chloe immediately become! the lorn and single fair who have cast such longing, hopeless glances upon your connubial estate-l 1 In your orisons to the stars that have -succeeded so wellin the merciful task of' blinding your eyes, forget not to mingle thanks- givings for the want of knowledge, which is bliss, with your grateful acknowledgments for blessings received and seen. If all the contented Fatimas in our land were to stumble upon their respective Bluebeards' chambers some bright morning, the "Sister Annes" upon the house-tops would rival in number the chimney-stacks. We have seen, for example, them uxorious uncle and the hen- pecked nephew pursuing their divergent ways, each pondering upon page: 358-359[View Page 358-359] 358 NEMESIS. :pis scheme for hoodwinking his a second self," the "partner of his inmost thoughts," the Lady High Keeper of his- soul's archives, and neither beset by misgivings about the invisibility and durability of the trap-doors that masked their secret closets. Yet, when the day of destiny arrives, and the. rust-eaten bolt, or the brittle bar gives way under Phillis' fairy foot-fall, to her horror and Corydon's confusion, nobody pities either, for- he ought to have foreseen it, and so ought she. -Mr. Hammond happened to be engaged in examining Colonel Rasheigh's books, and making memoranda of letters to be penned concerning the same, when Mr. Moreau was shown into his office. The lawyer deciphered the Colonel's pencilled note, and knit his brows musingly. The language was polite, and con- conveyed a simple request that Mr. Hammond would acquaint Mr. Moreau with the progress he had made in the settlement of Colonel Rasheigh's accounts-but the cui bono? directly pre- sented itself to the legal man. After a vain attempt to ferret out something mysterious or mischievous in this selection of a coadjutor in his work, he concluded that the Colonel was odd, and moreover affectionately ignorant of his nephew's mental deficiencies, and, lastly, that it iwas not of the slightest conse- lquence to him who looked over the papers with him. At this point, Mr. Moreau spoke up, in an off-hand way. "To tell the truth, Hammond, the whole thing is a bore to me; but the old gentleman couldn't come over himself, and gave me the appointment unasked. So, I will just hear what you have to say, and tumble over the papers awhile, and make a note here and there, lest I should forget all I have learned before I get back to Briarwood. He is, amazingly particular, the Colonel is! and a fellow, all odds and ends, like myself, has to be per- petually on his guard, through fear of .damaging his prospects- you understand?" \ Mr. Hammond, thought -that he must .indeed be in a stupid NEMESIS.' 359 mood, when he could not unriddle this shallow-pate, and the two seated themselves with the books and pile of bills between them. Mr. Hammond bestowed an item or two of, information, to the effect, that he was getting along as well as he had expected, and that, thus far, all was correct, and- then fell to work. Mr. Moreau's style of proceeding verified his predescription. He rustled papers; glanced down and up columns of figures with a celerity incompatible with calculation, or even attentive reading, and made irregular, and seemingly-cursory references to his note- book. "By George I it is a precious farce, and I am sick of it P" he yawned, at length, stretching himself in his chair. "I reckon that I have done my duty by my revered uncle, and profited long enough by your instructions, Hammond. I had rather talk about cattle and crops all day, than about law for half an hour." "I take some interest in those subjects myself," returned the lawyer. "If you desire proof, Just, cast your eye through that window upon that field of corn." "That is your brag rare-ripe-isn't it? I have heard wonder- ful things of it. But what are those? Your neighbor's cows or your own are making free with it in advance of the season." Mr. Hammond gave a look 'and ran to the door. A shout brought up all the little negroes on the place, and many of the women, the men being mostly absent at their farm-work. Directed by their master,/a crew of Eboe juveniles and five or six dogs scampered off to execute justice upon the depredating herd, who were trampling and feasting upon the choice grain. After a deal of superfluous noise and labor, the field was cleared of invaders; the broken panel of fence, which had afforded ingress, mended, and Mr. Hammond calmed-down gradually. "I do not think they have done much damage," remarked Mr. Moreau, who had followed the owner of the crop to the seat of war. "It is lucky you discovered it when you did."- page: 360-361[View Page 360-361] 360 NEMESIS. "It will *be very unlucky for the rascalwho pulled that fence down, if ever I catch him at his tricks ' - said the other. "It is not the only time I have been served in this way, and I have my eye upon the villain." "Who is it?" asked Mr. Moreau, switching down a mullen- stalk with his horsewhip. "That free negro up the road, whose brother I helped to the Penitentiary last spring. He will keep him company there before long, if he is not very careful." '"And serve him right 1" answered Mr. Moreau. He stopped to unfasten his horse from the rack by the gate. "Stay-to dinner-won't you?" invited the host. "Thank you I I would be glad to do so, only I left a house- ful of company at home. Come over some time this week, and see us. There are several pretty girls with us, if you have not lost your tastes for beauty." "Not I I so my wife compliments me by saying," laughed Mr. Hammond. "He has a kind heart, but a very poor head-piece," he observed, as his neighbor cantered away. "However, he did not make himself L His charitable reflections were suspended by the sight that met' him in his office. Both doors had been left open, and the draught thus created, was strong enough to blow most of the papers off the table, and, for aught he knew, some of them into the yard. He was not addicted to profanity, but it was as well for his repu- tation as a man of decorous -speech, that there were no eaves- droppers to report the ejaculations and grumblings with which he pursued the scattered documents. \ The day was sunny, but not fiercely hot, like its predecessor, and-when her companions betook themselves'to their novels and couches, at mid-day, Katherine donned her sun-bonnet and stole out of. the house, through the garden, and across a strip of meadow into the forest. There, freed from the scrutiny of curious eyes N E E S IS . 361. she sat down upon a fragment of rock at the foot of a pine, and wept in utter wretchedness of spirit. She felt like a lonely child, in the dark, reaching vainly on all sides for something that might comfort or tell her where she was. However rudely the tempests of life may buffet the bark of the young voyager ; however blackly the skies of Fate may lower- if but the anchor of faith in the thing beloved hold firm, it rides the storm with hopeful courage within. Tear this anchor away, and earth has not a more reckless and pitiable waif than that once trustful heart. With Katherine, the heat of anger was gone. The reflection that she was the intended victim Malcolm would have offered to exorcise the ghost of his unhappy love ; that the heart, which, in its freshness and plenitude of emotion' was worthy to be a king's ransom, was to buy for him a negative hap- piness-cheat him of regrets for the past--make of a restless, a "calm" existence; that this was his "scheme," in which no account was made of her wasted life and deceived affection; all this, while it made her heart the sorer, could not rekindle the flame of resentment. She had trusted and been mistaken-it was her willful mistake. She loved and was not loved again. She must bear the penalty of her indiscretion as she could, until time blunted the sense of suffering, that now appeared intolerable. She would go back home-to her old father, who loved her in his way; to the mother, whose ceaseless care she was; to -the patient, indulgent governess, who never thought or spoke unkindly of her -and try to do her duty faithfully to them; to be content with the peaceful monotony of the life they led, since she was to have no other. "But," she sobbed, in girlish abandonment, "I did so:long to be loved once I to know the bliss of it, if but for one moment I I think I could have died happily then 1" An opening in the underbrush, growing thickly about her, showed her that she was near the edge of the woodland, and half 16 page: 362-363[View Page 362-363] 362 NEMESIS. a mile beyond, arose the dark walls and peaked gables of Ben Lomond. Between it and her, was the cedar grove, shadowing the burial-ground. In the abject prostration of her disappoint- ment, she thought of a resting-place there, as the dearest home the world had now to give to its bereaved child. Through this break in the bushes was likewise visible the high road, and her proximity to it was made known to her by the sound of a horse's feet. Her instant idea was of the last person by whom she would wish to be discovered, and she crouched to the very ground, lest the rider, from his elevated position, should look over the tops of the brushwood into her retreat. Still, between the leaves, she 'could catch glimpses of the passers-by, for the horseman was not solitary, as she soon learned from hearing voices in conversation. She recognized Mr. Sancroft's laugh before he came in sight. His companion was Mr. Moreau, his fage as set and gloomy as Sancroft's was full of triumph, that had in it a spice of the satanic. They were walking their -horses, and some phrases of their talk came to her ear, with startling distinctness, so still and clear was the air. "I have lied and stolen for you I You will have me commit murder next 1" said Mr. Moreau. "I feel as mean as a sheep- stealing dog." "Tut, manl You ought to be vain of your clever job I I did it out of natural affection you know. Couldn't let the old fox fall into the trap he had set for himself in those documents. How Hammond stormed at the cows and thenegroes 1" Another laugh that sounded fiendish in its glee, to the sorrow- ing girl, and they were out of hearing. She recollected it, when an hour afterward her smirking admirer brought into play all his arts of pleasing, and compli- mented her upon her uniform flow of spirits-"a perennial fount," he was pleased to say, "that never required a forcing- pump." NEME S I S. 363 Mr. Moreau did not appear in the drawing-room after dinner. Katherine asked where he was, and his wife replied that he was lying down. "He had a headache, brought on by riding too far in the sun." As the girls were undressing that night, Katherine noticed a peculiar meaning in the faces of the others, when the host's name was mentioned, but did not inquire its significance.: An incautiously loud whisper from the opposite bed, after they had retired, enlightened her as to the mystery. "I met him, as they were carrying him to his room," said Jenny Armistead. "He was too drunk to walk or stand. And Mrs. Moreau was so angry l" page: 364-365[View Page 364-365] * INEMESIS. . ,-l CHAPTER XXVI. THE Sabbath dawned like a foretaste of the upper Paradise. There had been another thunder shower on Saturday, and the yellowing trees and browning fields were refreshed into almost vernal greenness. The streams were edged with the golden-rod, and the meadows gay with purple brush and white wild fennel and radiant coreopsis. The hickory's signal banner of pale yellow and the red beacons of the gum-tree and maple, still, like faithful warders, proclaimed the approaching invasion of the Frost King; but their alarms were displayed to inattentive eyes. The Moreaus parted, to-day, with most of their visitors. Only FRli7abeth Hunter was to remain with them, and her brother would come on the morrow, to take her away. "We have had a pleasant, but an unprofitable week," said Jenny Armistead, on their way to church. "By right, we should have realized an offer apiece, and not one of us has had a chance to say, 'No 1"' i"Or, Yes I" said Katherine, for she saw Mr. Armistead's eye flash quickly toward her, and understood intuitively, that he had gained some knowledge of the real state of the case with one of the quartette. He rode by the side of the carriage, and was the only gentle- man within hearing of his saucy sister. '"Nobody minds Alick 1" she replied to an admonitory look from Elizabeth Hunter, whose heart had not escaped uninjured from the week's association with the handsome and sprightly brother. You. do not, at all events l" he rejoined. "It is not just that I should bear all the blame, and my fellow-delinquents go unwhipped. Sancroft, Blanton! Do you hear the complaint of these defrauded maidens? A week's hunt-and they have not bagged a single bird ! Who is ready to make amends to the unsuccessful-I dare not say, the unskillful Dianas? Don't all speak at once I" " I am, for one 1" replied Sancroft, "provided the act of public justice-the amende honorable-be prefaced by one of a more personal and confidential character." "I make no reservations," said Blanton. "I am at the dis- posal of the ladies. They may draw straws for me, if they like. I will be a dutiful bondsman to any one of them." "You are too accommodating," said Miss Armistead, bridling. "We do not prize what is so easily bought; do not want hearts that are offered at auction." "They ought to be disposed' of as paupers are provided with boarding-places-knocked down to the lowest bidders," added Elizabeth, Commonplace girls can be sharp, when woman's supreme right to the sovereignty of hearts is assailed or treated lightly, and Mr Blanton, who thought he had made a gallant speech, was morti- fied at the double-headed bolt cast at him in reply. " Finish me, if you please, Miss Rashleigh-and Miss Martha may bury me,'" he implored, with the best grace he could muster. " It would be mercy to put me out of my misery, as we crush lame grasshoppers."' "Or one-winged butterflies I' interposed Miss Armistead, smartly. "I do not place you in either category, Mr. Blanton," said Katherine, with a gentleness she seldom exhibited in. addressing him, for she was no more partial to him than were the two young ladies, from whose cruelty he appealed. "And it has always page: 366-367[View Page 366-367] 366 N E MXE S I 8. seemed to me questionable mercy to extinguish the remaining I spark of life, because the unhappy creature has already lost a por. i tion of its vitality. To kill and to cure belongs to Nature and i not -to us, in such cases." "Sound philosophy," commented Alick Armistead. "So you say to the maimed grasshopper: ' Live to kick another day.' " "I hope you are thankful to Miss Rasheigh for your reprieve, Mr. Blanton,f said Elizabeth.. He was so far grateful that he inwardly awarded to Miss Rash- leigh, the palm of amiability, as he had previously regarded her as the most beautiful of the four girls. For the rest of the way he was disposed to taciturnity and serious thought. He was debating the probable chances of success which he, with a small real estate -and a fluctuating income of uncertain amount, would have in the race with Argyle, Sancroft, and perhaps Armistead- for the heiress., The most popular and courted girl in the community, Kathe, rine alighted at the church-door, and felt herself to be the most forlorn and stricken being there, as she gazed upon-the gathering crowd, with its holiday faces. While the Moreau party stood upon the green, waiting for the arrival of the second carriage, containing the host, hostess and children, Colonel Rasheigh's noble equipage was driven up from another direction. It was faultless in its every appurtenance-from the burnished coats of the horses and the silver mountings of the harness, to the knee-buckles of the doughty Thomas, who, sublimely oblivious of quagmires and soiled liveries; stood, in poker-like dignity, upon the foot- board behind the coach; Such parade poor Mark may have had in his eye, when he prophesied that his wife and daughter would see the day when .they should' ride past their old home in their chariot afd four, and forget that they had ever lived there. N E E S I S. 367 Colonel Rasheigh got out slowly, his hand on the footman's shoulder, and turned to aid-his wife's descent. A hum went . through the assembly as she appeared. She had never attended church before, during her residence at Briarwood, although Mrs. Holt and Katherine were invariably present whenever there was service at Deep Run, and the Colonel frequently accompanied them. Mrs. Rasheigh's ill-health was supposed to be the cause why she so seldom went abroad, and but a small proportion of the surrounding population, excepting those who were on visiting terms at Briarwood, had ever had a closer view of her. than was gained through her carriage windows, as she took her daily air- ings. She wore a veil now to protect her weak eyes, or to ward off prying gazes ; but when she drew it aside to speak with her daughter, the wan, yet beautiful face disclosed, interested all- was the subject of remark with many. "Are you not well?" she said to Katherine, as they- went up the steps together. A ruddy tint supplanted the lily in the daughter's cheek. "Very well, madam," she answered, but her heart sank at the penetration, the unerring perception, that at a glance, discovered the falsity of her assumed demeanor. + Mrs. Holt knelt on the uncarpeted floor, as she had beeneused to bow upon her velvet hassock, in a curtained pew. The Colonel stood, with his hat before his face, aminute, while his lips moved in the formula his mother had instructed him to repeat before service. Mrs. Rasheigh and Katherine obeyed the dictates of no such custom. The one. looked too haughty, the other too honest to feign a devotion she did not feel. The time-honored usage of singing the -congregation into quietude, and which has been superseded by the solemn chant or subduing, yet elevating organ voluntary, was then in vogue. And, as was often done-on this morning; the tune was raised-in the pulpit. But it was not the pastor's voice that led the words : thopulpit. or, led the words page: 368-369[View Page 368-369] 3ji8 NE M E S. I "There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Tmmanuel's veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains." O,-thou dear and hallowed lyric I the alabaster-box of precious ointment, broken by the weeping "Castaway," upon the feet of the SaviourI epitome of the sinner's refuge and the Christian's hope I psalm of the redeemed I do not the white-robed throng, on the shin- ing shore, remember and sing thee still I The wild, sweet air to which the hymn was then sung was the same which is associated with it in the minds and upon the tongues of many of the descendants of those who then united in the strain. We have searched vainly for printed or written notes of its plaintive measures-; have instituted futile inquiries as to its origin and history. "My mother sung it to me, as I lay on her knee." "aIt was my father's best-beloved tune."' "My sister went to glory, with it upon her lips.' Records like thesei we have gathered--given in with smiles and tears, by those whose recollection runs back to the infancy of our Republic -but they have never knownt and history has not chronicled the name of him whose holy passion here poured itself into musical utterance-a stream of fervor and melody, with a heart-throb in every tone. Katherine was strangely moved by the rush of song. It bore her upon its wings to the summer sky, that seemed to bend and listen, through the charmed air, to the chorus of human praise, and her soul was bathed in-the peace, typified by the tranquil ether. She closed her eyes-and by one of the mysteries of memory or imagination, that sometimes begets in the least ideal of mankind, a passing belief in the preexistence of souls, she beheld, as in a dream, another scoue, and yet the same. She was a child, leaning on her mother's knee-lips' apart and eyes overrunning with emotions she could not understand, awakened by the very music that had wrought the maiden's N EME S I . 369 trance-a child, a happy, earnest, loving and beloved child I Would that she had died then I In the sharp pang of the con- trast with a suffering womanhood, she awoke, as the hymn was ended, and through the open door, saw, between the tree-trunks, the white gleam of the railing that defended the grave upon the hill I The preacher arose to offer the opening prayer, and Katherine recognized Mr. Laidley I What. a life-time of events and of feeling had been compressed into the brief months that had elapsed since their former meeting I She remembered, wonderingly, that he then interested her more than another, who was also presented to her that day.. She seemed to look and to hearken ; but the reading and sing , and, the introductory divisions of the discourse were swept away from hearing and understanding, by the flood of bitter emotion. It was the always selfish, often impious, mourning for the first-bor love. "' Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest I'" The preacher leaned forward over the closed Bible, and, to Katherine's startled senses, he addressed himself directly-to her. "From the woes which our own sins and the sins. of others have brought upon us, Christ is able to deliver us. If the Father smites us sorely, it is that we may be healed by the Son P1 This was allof the sermon which Katherine retained/'and this was fixed -in her memory only by the speaker's .eye and manner. She found a vague solace in repeating the words over and over. They were like a cool breath of wholesome- air to her torn and fevered heart. She gave one hurried look through the retiring congregation, at the conclusion of the services. MalColm was not there, and although she would have said that she desired nothing at present more than his absence-in a perversity of contradiction she sustained an additional throb of pain that ske had not seen him. 16* page: 370-371[View Page 370-371] 370 NE M E S I S. "My dear, in compliance with your wish, I have invited Mr. i Laidley to remain with us to-night," said the Colonel, on the road. Katherine looked at her mother for confirmation of this singular statement. Why should she, who habitually shunned company- who rarely proposed an invitation to any one, have deviated from her custom to honor an entire stranger, whom she had never seen, before to-day? "Thank -you!" was the response. "My wish to see him is increased by his able sermon." "His is more the persuasive style of eloquence than I? antici- pated from your description of him last spring, Katherine?" continued her father. "I do not recollect attempting to describe him, papa. I liked and admired him then, as I do now, and no doubt said as much."' "It was Mrs. Holt, then, who gave me the impression that he was too vehement-too Wesleyan in his oratory." "I may have thought him warmer than the strict rules of clerical propriety warranted," said the governess, apologetically. "But, if such was then my judgment, I retract the criticism after the effort of this forenoon. His style is, as you observe, Colonel Rasheigh, eminently tender and persuasive, and marked by a noble candor. His introduction bordered upon the collo- quial; I was -reminded of Pope's proposal to Bolinghroke: ' Together let us beat this ample field, Try what the open, what the covert yield; The latent tracts, the giddy heights explore, Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar, ch'ikd where we must, be candid where we can, But vindicate the ways -of God to man.'" W:"Where does Mr. Laidley dine?" inquired Mrs. Rasheigh. 4 . { . I- NE E S I . 371 "He and -Mr. Kenny were invited together to Mr. Selden's. But, for Mr. Argyle's absence, he would, have gone to Been Lomond.)' "Mr. Argyle has really set off upon his journey, then?!' said Mrs. Holt. Katherine turned away her head, and leaned out of the window for air. A numb sickness was creeping over her. "He left yesterday, as he proposed to do." "He intends spending the winter in travelling, I believe" con- tinued the governess; neither of the other ladies appearing; dis- posed to engage in the conversation. "Is it not early in the season to begin the tour of the Southern States?" a "He will go West first," rejoined the Colonel. "Katherine!" '( Sir?" said the girl, showing her white, shocked face. "I did not mean to alarm you, my child. I was merely about to remark that, of course, Mr. Argyle paid a farewell visit at his sister's while you were there." "She is ill!" exclaimed Mrs. Rasheigh. She untied her daughter's bonnet, and made her lean: against her shoulder, while Mrs. Holt fanned her. , "I thought you were not looking well when we met you this morning," she said, brunshing back the falling curls with a tender, motherly touch that brought the tears to poor Katherine's eyes. Mrs. Rasheigh's voice betrayed no emotion. "You have- been keeping late hours, I am afraid." "Nothing is more deleterious to the health of a young lady," remarked the Colonel. "I am displeased that Robert and his wife should' sanction such irregularities." Katherine could not defend her hospitable entertainers; could do nothing more than smile faintly to assure the anxious watchers of :her countenance that she was reviving. She had never fainted in her life. She-did not believe she would have fainted page: 372-373[View Page 372-373] 372 NE ME I IS. now, but for one blind second, the day and the earth seemed to I have passed away, and left her to a horror of darkness a black and chilling void. I Her father would have her take no arm but his, when they reached home, and assisted her up to her room. Her mother banished governess and maid, and aided in disrobing her, silently, and without demonstration of affection, yet, as Katherine realized, with a sort of sympathy very soothing and very strange. "Indeed, mamma, you will fatigue yourself!" she expostulated. "I was only a little giddy and sick, and it is over now. I am quite able to wait on myself, if you persist in recommending me to lie down.*" "The sun is warm to-day, and the carriage was close. These g were sufficient to produce your indisposition, joined to your irre- gular habits at your cousin's. I am not inclined to view it as a serious matter. A couple of hours of undisturbed slumber will -do you good." Katherine put her arms around her mother's neck, as she laid a shawl over her. "You- are very kind, mamma 1"Her heart was bursting to add, " you will let me love you-will you not?" but timidity restrained her. Mrs. Rasheigh kissed her quietly, and bidding her " sleep and awake well," left her. The sun was not an hour high, when she again entered the chamber and stooped above the bed. Katherine was very pale, and there was a worn, weary look about the brow and mouth, while the eyelids were swollen, as with passionate and long- continued weeping. The mother touched the pillow and a hand- kerchief that lay upon it. Both were damp, and her own forehead contracted in a spasm of displeasure or pain. She clenched her hands and gazed steadfastly upon her child, dark clouds and ominous driving over her face. It was as -if she NEMESI S. 33 renewed some stern resolution, before the rigid lines relaxed,:and a beam of compassionate love, that was akin to angelic pity, illumined her features. She bent to kiss the brow of the sleeper. Light as was the touch, Katherine awoke with a sobbing gasp, and sat upright. It Mamma I is it you? Am I at home?" "Yes, my daughter." "May I stay here always, please, mamma?" "Until you choose to go," answered Mrs.-Rasheigh, without noticing her incoherency. "Mr. Laidley is downstairs, and I thought you would like to meet him. Have you had a refreshing sleep?" "Yes, madam 1" Katherine sighed wearily, as she arose to perform the duties of her toilet. "I am not lazy-only tired!" she said, in excuse. "Dissipa- tion does not suit me." "You need have no more, unless you like to make a second experiment. I had my doubts as to the wisdom of this one, but your father and cousins were so strenuous in their desire, that I could not refuse them." , "My cousins were kind to me-so were their visitors. Tey treated me with- great attention. It was nobody's fault but my' own that I did not have a happier time." "Are you wide awake and strong enough to answer some -questions pertaining to thisvisit, or more properly speaking, to some of the persons whom you met at Montrouge?" "Yes, madam." But Katherine's knees trembled, and she leaned all her weight against the dressing-table. "My ctechism does not relate to yourself, nor am I ready'to tell you exactly why my inquiries are -made. You have quiek eyes and a thoughtful mind. Did anything trnspire while you were at Mr. Moreau's to induce you to suspect that Mr. Saneroft page: 374-375[View Page 374-375] 374 NEMESIS . . had an undue influence over your cousin, and that he exerted this to accomplish, his own ends? Take your time, and think well, whether any circumstance, overlooked at the moment it occurred, would bear this construction." Katherine reverted instantly to the conversation she had acci- dentally heard in the woods on the third day of her visit, and she narrated the incident. A -triumphant flash shot from Mrs. Rasheigh's eyes. "-This is more than I could have hoped for I You are positive that you have repeated their very words I Stay!" She took paper and pencil from a desk. "Say them over again-very carefully-while I write." In utter amazement, her daughter obeyed. The few sentences were noted down, and with the paper in her hand, Mrs. Rasheigh arose. "You. are- too discreet to be treated as a child, Katherine. I may say to you that I have no respect for Mr. Sancroft or his father, and that I have :discovered what your father does not see, the unbounded power of the younger man over Mr. Moreau's weaker mind; This can tend only to mischief, but, while I can do nothing to avert it, if I would, it is well to be sure with whom the evil originated. ' This is all you need or ought to know, at -present. Say nothing to any one of what you have repeated to me. I am now going down to the parlor. Shall I send your maid to you?" Mr. Laidley sat in the stateliest of the state-chairs in the dark- green, drawing-room, listening, with his open, pleasant :counte- nance, to the Colonel's exposition of the tenets and prejudices to which he, as a staunch churchman, subscribed; his eye glancing occasionally from .his host, to the fret-work of gold the declining sun cast through the, trees and the windows, high upon the east- ern wall of the apartment, when a slight figure - appeared in the doorway, leading into the hall. So white of raiment and com- plexion was it-so noiseless of motion, that the good man sprang NEMESIS. 375 up from his chair with more suddenness than mere gallantry required. Colonel Rasheigh introduced his daughter; she courtesied and withdrew to a seat, but Mr. Laidley's eyes still sought her, in thoughtful inquiry. Its purport was made manifest, after a while. "Excuse me, Miss Rasheigh I but your countenance is so fa- miliar to me I must believe that I have seen you before-I could say in less happy circumstances than those in which I now find you." "I had the pleasure of an introduction to-you last May, at the Presbyterial meeting," replied Katherine, blushing deeply. ("Ah I I have some recollection of it. Mrs. Moreau was with you, if I mistake not." (She was, sir." "I knew your face for that of an acquaintance, in the, congre- gation this. forenoon, but could not name the place or period of our meeting.. Can that be the only interview we have ever had?" "I am ignorant of any other, sir." "I am growing old-sight and memory are failing together 1" said Mr. Laidley, putting his hand to his forehead. "I used to pride myself upon my accurate remembrance of -features and names. Now, instead of a clear mirror, there is a blurred- treach- erous surface, that confuses, more than it aids me.- Whence, for instance, should I derive the imppression- that I have seen -and talked with you in a more humble sphere than that in which you were born, had spoken words of consolation to you, in the cham- ber of the dying?" "I cannot tell, indeed, sir i" replied Katherine, with:a shiver. Interested, despite her engrossing sadness, she continued-: "I am often' troubled with like unaccountable fancies-hav,e an incorri- gible habit-an unconquerable faclty of :recollecting events that: never happened-that is, in my present state of existence. JI am page: 376-377[View Page 376-377] 376 X NEMESIS. disposed, sometimes, to believe that I have lived in this world before I entered the body I wear now--my imaginations of per- sons and scenes I can never have beheld with these eyes, are so vivid and consistent-far more so than any dream-pictures." "Such speculations are very tempting. ; We have all a vein of superstition which craves the marvellous.- Yet, I doubt not that these fancies of ours, could, if we had the clue, be traced--if not to dreams and stories-heard and' read-to actual events in our experience, partly forgotten or blended with others," "If I may be permitted to offer so simple a solution of the mournful associations you have connected with Miss Rasbleigh," ventured Mrs. Holt, "I would remind you, Mr. Laidley, that you met her twice on the day of your introduction, and the second time, in the immediate vicinity of a grave. I allude to that on the hill in the rear of the church." "Is it indeed so? I had forgotten the encounter, although I remember the visit. I had never been there before. May I in- quire, Miss -Rasheigh, if you were drawn to that spot by any special interest in him whose rema ins, are there entombed?" ," I was not, sir. The discovery of the grave was wholly accidental, and until I read the name upon the- headstone, I had no knowledge of the deceased." "^You- have learned his history since then?" Katherine paused, but mastering her reluctance to near a theme which could riot be otherwise -than excessively painful to her, she replied : - "Only that he was a friend of Mr. Argyle's." "F From whom did you hear thus much, if it is not an imperti- nent question?"- "From Mr. Argyle himself. I have never questioned any one else." . "And his modesty would not have allowed him to -tell you a story that- reflects such honor upon himself, if there were no other reasons why he should avoid the topic. NE E S IS. 3" "I have noted this extreme modesty in Mr. Argyle's character. It is a remarkable trait," said the Colonel. "Nothing displeases me more in the rising generation of young men than their inordi- nate self-esteem." !"There never was an ignoble trait in Malcolm Argyle's dispo- sition," returned Mr. Laidley. "I have known him from his boyhood ; from his babyhood, I may say, for I baptized him as his mother held him in her arms. Many and hard things have been said concerning the unsocial habits of the man, but he is far more sinned against than sinning. Sensitive and honorable to a fault ; fervent and stable in his attachments, it is no wonder that certain events in his past life have left indelible traces upon ]ais heart and manner." Dusk came early in that room, and Katherine blessed the gathering shades that veiled her changing cheek and quivering frame from the sight of the other aunditors. Mrs. Holt maintained her ladylike attitude of respectful attention; Mrs. Rasheigh leaned back in her chair, taciturn and statuesque. It was impossible to say whether she listened-or mused or slept. "Ah 1" said the Colonel, politely, but sleepily. The governess, reminded by his tone that it was the hour of his evening nap, came to the rescue. "He has had trying bereavements, then, sir? Of what nature, pray?" "With some I am acquainted only by.-heresay, of others I am not at liberty to speak. But since you, madam, have referred to the circumstance of meeting-him and myself at that lonely grave, I may give the outlines of a story that has cast a permanent gloom over a spirit, as tender as buoyant. The ' friend' buried there was a poor sloemaker, who settled just without the bounds -of the Argyle plantation. He possessed unusual attainments for his station; had a sound education and the manners of a--thorough gentleman. Withal, he was man- of sincere piety, as I had ex- i . o page: 378-379[View Page 378-379] 378 N E E SIS. cellent opportunities of knowing. Yonng Argyle conceived an ardent friendship for his lowly neighbor, even prior to an accident which made him an invalid resident of his- house for many weeks. After this, he regarded him as the saviour of his life, and spared no pains to secure him a lucrative business and a competency of worldly goods. Then Argyle went abroad, and how it happened I have never rightly understood, but through a series of unfortu- nate misunderstandings, an estrangement grew up between the tenant, Hale, and the senior Argyle, his landlords While this was at its height, Hale was laid low with a lingering disease, and reduced to extreme poverty. The sequel of the sad affair was that he was arrested at the suit of Mr. Argyle, or his agent, for the real creditor always denied any knowledge of the harsh mea, sures of his deputy ; his goods seized and himself imprisoned. The exposure and excitement aggravated his malady, and he died within three days after his removal." "Such barbarity seems incredible!" exclaimed Katherine. "'As do many other things of daily occurrence among civilized men i" replied Mr. Laidley. "I chanced to stop. at the Court tHouse Tavern the night Hale died, and hearing of his case and who he was, remembered him as one who had once given me shelter in a storm, and won my respect and good will by his intel- ligent conversation and kind hospitality. I visited him, and find- ing him very near his end, remained until all 'was over. Such Christian courage and faith I have seldom had the privilege of beholding. He left a wife, a very pretty young woman, who was deeply attached to him, and one child, perhaps more-I remember only one. They were provided by the charitable neighbors with funds to enable them to' reach their relations, and I have never heard of them since. Meanwhile Argyle was profoundly ignorant of the misfortunes of his proteges. By a cruel mischance, or more truly speaking,- a mysterious Providence, he never received either of the two letters written to him on the subject by one whom he had E ME S S. 379 commissioned to watch over his friends during his absence ; the old housekeeper and nurse, who yet has charge of his establishment."' "Was it never supposed that the letters were intercepted?" The query came from Mrs. Rasheigh, but the accents were so sharp and dry that Katherine could scarcely believe them her mothers. "There was a whisper of some such thing, I think, but it was generally treated as unfounded scandal, and soon died away. I fear that the rumor was set afloat by poor Argyle's imprudent invectives against 'all- who had the opportunity to injure the Hales. He. acted like one bereft of reason, when, on his return home, he learned the calamity that had befallen them. His impetuosity and unsparing denunciation of the agents in the sad affair, occasioned a rupture between himself and several of his old acquaintances, who sought to mollify his resentment-and,-it was said, came near producing a family feud. One very natural and commendable desire was uppermost in his breast-to seek out the surviving members of the ill-fated family, and make what res- titution he could ; but here again the way was hedged up. Mrs. Hale had left her address with the worthy hostess of the village inn, who had cared for her husband, during his imprisonment,.as if he -had been her own son ; but she was no letter-writer, and when Argyle called on her for the direction, she had lost or mis- laid it. Notwithstanding this hindrance, he sent letters North,. East, West and' South, in quest of themissing woman, but with- out effect ;. nor has he ever obtained the least information con- cerning them. The remains ofpoor Hale he caused to be removed to the beautiful spot where they now rest, and has found a melan- choly satisfaction in tending the grave. People. sneered at him as romantic and eccentric, but he paid no heed to ridicule or argument. "I have told you a long tale, Miss Rasheigh -a gossiping recital, you may think, better suited to a sentimental girl, than a page: 380-381[View Page 380-381] 380 . )N E M E 8 I S. man who has outlived the age of romance; but Argyle is a hobby of mine. He refreshes me, after the scores of everyday, practical beings I am in the habit of meeting. His life has been an unwritten tragedy. Stern and cynical, as he is called, I tell you there is more heart in him now-locked up though its trea- sures are-than in any other ten men that I know." "And this is the heart-these are the treasures I have flung awayl" thought Katherine, while the great tears were crushed under her eyelids. "Now, I would be his slave-anything-that would give me a right to be near him always and minister to him, . if by so doing I could pour one drop of sweet into a cup that others have filled with wormwood. What a weak, vain, petulant creature I have been i" Mrs. Holt was assuredly one of the people who are put into the world to " fill up a chink." She was not garrulous, although i prosy--not obtrusive, although pedantic. When no one else- would speak, she did; when others were voluble, she personified t the " mute angel of attention." Katherine could not articulate; Mrs. Rasheigh rarely cared to offer a voluntary remark, and the Colonel's heavy breathing attested his inability to pronounce an opinion upon a story that had sent him forty leagues, at least, into the land of dreams, he having succumbed to Somnus before the preliminary paragraph was ended. -Age a anan apoplectic tendency were valiant opponents to his conscientious politeness. i "We likewise esteem Mr. Argyle very highly," said Mrs. Holt. "And since we have heard your thrilling narrative, Mr. Laidley, our appreciation of his worth must of necessity be far more just. His trials have been numerous, and we cannot'help hoping that his compensation may be ample-that ' the winter of his discontent is nearly over. and he may forget it in a 'glori- ous summer." - . There can never be invented a more effectual quietus to over- wrought feeling than the intensely trite speeches which your well- * * - ' N E M ES I S. 381 bred, smooth-tongued nonentity keeps continually on hand. The "step " that makes ridiculous the sublime, is as nothing to the down-toppling of elevated sensations and exalted sentiments before his or her properly-delivered sentence. Society owes such weight-and-pulley machines much for bringing down upon the run, aspiring theorists and heated romancists. If this were Mrs. Holt's mission, she performed it faithfully. Katherine rang the bell, and ordered that lights should be brought in ; for there were arabesques of silver moonlight on the wall where the sunlight had played when she entered the room. Mrs. Rasheigh arose and walked down the apartment with her low, proud step, to the door of the smaller parlor. The-Colonel, iwakened by the cessation of Mr. Laidley's voice, sneezed and icmmed to rid himself of the fogs his head and throat had ,athered in the Sleepy Hollow into which he had made an excursion. "Yet the Established Church must have been, at-one time, the egal religion of your commonwealth, Mr. Laidley. Of course, I :avor toleration and freedom of conscience; but I am always Displeased at innovation in ecclesiastical affairs-at whatever eans toward liberalism in the church." i. . page: 382-383[View Page 382-383] 382 NEMESIS. CHAPTER XXVII. ONE day, near the later -part of October, the younger Sancroft made his appearance at, Montrouge in a state of the utmost excitement. Luckily, Mrs. Moreau was not at home, or his tone and gesture as he met her husband ini the porch,/ must have aroused a curiosity the two cronies would have been puzzled to evade. "Here's a precious- stew i" was Sancroft's exclamation. "All the lying and thieving I have planned and you executed have done no good, Sit down i'- pulling him to a bench-" and read i what. the old man received this morning, from that cunning fox-' Hammond!" It was a professional letter, stating, with as little verbiage as was compatible with technicalities, that the writer had detected several grave errors in the review of Mr. Sancroft's accounts- discrepancies between the- bills he had presented as the lawful demands of various parties to whom Colonel Rasheigh was indebted, and what purported to be duplicate bills which he- Hammond-had subsequently obtained from said parties. Then followed the errata in detail-revealing the frightful fact that, in every instance, Mr. Sancroft's bill was for a larger amount than was, named by-each creditor, as his just claim, and that in pro- portion to the distance of their places of residence from Briar- woodwas the increase of the difference in the -two sums. "Tlerable mileage that!" said Sancroft, striking a name with his finger. "But go on 1 Gear him through 1" i- v NEMESIS. - 883 In view of this serious and remarkable conflict of testimony, Mr. Hammond said, it was the wish of his client, Colonel Rash- leigh, that Mr. Sancroft should be called upon to render an explanation of a matter reflecting heavily upon his correctness as an accountant, or his fidelity as an agent, or his integrity as a man; to show forth cause why a suit should not be instituted against him for having extorted money upon false pretences. The letter begged, furthermore, that an early day might be appointed for the private investigation of the case. The sweat broke out all over Moreau's body as he read- rolled in big globules from his forehead. " Good gracious, Sancroft 1 How did this happen ?" " Don't lose your wits, man 1 you need the few you have, more than you ever did before, and iyou think you have been in some tight places. 'How did this happen ?' Why, the,sly rascal must have made a memoranda of all the loose bills wherein lay the danger to my honest paternal. No wonder he was so willing to intrust them to your careless handling, when he had them inventoried upon his private sheet I What a ninny you were not to think of that P" " But he cannot show the bills in your father's handwriting I" And Mr. Moreau's crest arose. " You don't recollect that I" " What good will that quibble do with the long head you are for pitting your numbskull against ? He never would ha've taken this audacious step without evidence to bear him out. Ten; to one, he has tracked you, and having donie this,- to scent out the instigator of your matchless strategy, is as easy as to add two and two together." "Tracked me I How could he ? We would have heard of it before now,,if susicion had fallen upon me or upon any one. When I left the :o e, both doors-were wide open,; and the papers flying everywhere. I dare him to charge me with purloining one of them" " page: 384-385[View Page 384-385] 384 NEMESIS. ^Heroics are unbecoming in a lily-ivered chap like you, Moreau. You dare him, indeed I It is as easy to see as the nose on\ your face, that you 'would have heard of it if suspicion had inot fallen upon' you I Your uncle would have referred to it, or Hammond--in some of the dozen times you have seen him since. Hasn't he talked-yes I and laughed too-the scamp! about the cows getting -into his corn? and have not you, with exquisite -address, inquired about 'your mutual task,' and asked to be admitted as a law-student i You don't remember chuckling over that bit of smartness with me, not a week ago-hey? I distrusted then his reserve on the subject of his loss. I could- knock you down when I think how he was grinning in his sleeve at your overdone folly. Distraction I why are some people born fools?" "Upon my word, Sancroft, you talk as if I were the only person who had a hand in this dirty work 1 Didn't you force me into it? I never would have chosen the job of my own accord. It doesn't stand to reason that I would rob my own kin to benefit yours, just for the pleasure of the thing. I must say your lan- guage is anything but kind-considering the trouble and risk I have been at, to oblige you." "Stop your whimpering I It was a legitimate bargain. Said I-' Moreau, my fine fellow, I hold your note for so much-a debt of honor between gentlemen, you had as lief should not be talked of, even in the bosom of your family. My revered patri- arch, being slightly in his dotage, has been using your uncle's confidence to subserve his own personal advantage, and the proofs thereof are in the possession of Hammond. I will furnish you with a description of these mischievous papers, the examina- tion of which .Hammond had dnot commenced yesterday, for I overheard him say so. Get a permit/from your uncle-amiable and, unsophisticated greybeard that he -is I which shall give you access to them. When you have identified the ones we want, NE M E IS. - 385 signal to me from the window, and I engage to effect a-diversion of the lynx eye. Bring me the bills, and I deliver up your bond -paper for paper-that is equity 1' After an immensity of instruction and drilling, you undertook the commission, and the master you serve helped you through so famously that H ought to have been on the look-out for worse "mischief-but I was not. I earned the patriarchal blessing and a trifle in advance of my patrimony; you had your note back, and retained your average amount of public respect, not to mention domestic felicity." 7 "You are as cool as a cucumber; Sancroft 1 when I am going crazy I How are you going fto get out of this awful scrape?" "I am not in it, in the first place. All my solicitude is for you and my distressed parent. He cheated, or tried to; you Atole ; while my hands are clean--every whit!" "You were at- the bottom of all that I did." "Maybe so; ;but you will find that a difficult tVung to prove, my dear boy I Who would believe: you on your oath when your share in the transaction is made known? But we are jumping at the conclusion- that Hammond certainly holds trumps. My distracted senior has committed the righting of- his fame to mny acumen, and, as a primary move, we must pump Hammond; make him show his hand, and bully, if we cannot convince him. Come along i" "Must I go? You will get on so much better without me i" pleaded Moreau. , The most crafty serpents dounwise things sometimes, and Sancroft tugged his trembling tool after-him to the lawyer's house. - A carriage was driven away from the door as they came in sight of it, and passed them in the lane. It was Colonel Rasheigh's, and within it were Mrs. Rasheigh-and her English maid. "Aha V" nodded Sancroft, sardonically, replacing the hat. he had lifted, receiving a proud bow in-return. "That is--the blade that cuts so smoothly I Ithought it did not feel like a blunt 17 page: 386-387[View Page 386-387] 386 N EMESIS. English cleaver. Moreau I has that woman any excusefor hat. ingyou?" Me 1 none that I know of I We have had very little to do with one another." ("Ditto for your humble servant I Yet I have a notion that she loves us both alike, and is not enamored with either. She is just the sort of a woman to deify a spite ; to carry a stone in her pocket for seven years, turn it, and carry it seven years longer, and then dash out one's brains with it at last. And your uncle is no better than a piece of wax in her hands. He is a solemn prik -a pompous puppet I She works the wires." "He dotes on her, that's a fact I My wife found that out the first time she saw them together. For my part, I could as soon love a graven image-amarble tombstone I What awful, ghostly eyes she has I When she fixes them on me they make me, some- how, think of all the evil I ever did in my life." "You never lack food for reflection in her company, then 1 But here we are, and there is Hammond, smiling as a May morn- ing I Confound his impudence I Now, swear to all I say, and don't venture, an original observation for your life 1" Mr. Hammond'sreception of the promising pair was perfectly polite-not cordial. Even Moreau discovered that they were met as business acquaintances, not neighbors and friends. Mr. Sancroft led off with a message from his father, who was inconceivably astounded at the intelligence, contained in Mr. Hammond's communication. During the thirty years in which he haad Bpursued the calling- of an agent: and accountant, this circum- stance had no precedent. Mr. Hammond thought that more than probable. He had himself been confounded by the number of errors and the amounts involved. It was an incomprehensible affair. Mr. Sancproft might be excsed, ifwith all his respect for Mr. Eammond's skill in his profession and unquestionable veracity as N' EME S I S. 387 a gentleman, he yet declined to believe in the extraordinary list of errata, without personal and minute examination of the original papers. Mr. Hammond rejoined that the original papers had never been transferred to him. Mr. Sancroft, Senior, had only supplied him with bills drawn up in his own handwriting. The accounts from which these were compiled were, many of them, as he had been given to understand, informal statements, embodied in letters from illiterate men. Mr. Sancroft had -had considerable difficulty in deciphering them, and to spare Colonel Rasheigh'the trouble, he had taken pains to- copy them out fairly and number them, besides entering their several amounts on his account-book. Said bills, when paid by Colonel Rasheigh, were to have odets in the shape of receipts from their several authors. Mr. Sancroft had undoubtedly taken unusual, and he might add, superfluous- trouble, in simplifying and arranging these papers. Superfluous, since he (Mr. Hammond) had deemed it proper to waive these consider- ate endeavors to elucidate matters for Colonel Rasheigh's conve- nience, and returning to first principles, had applied to the debtors for duplicate bills, over their own signatures. Colonel Rasheigh, although an Englishman, was yet competent to the manriagement of an ordinary transaction of buying and selling. The straightest course was generally the safest in the long run. Sancroft'winced-at this gratuitous moral adage. "You do not object, however, Mr. Hammond, to -my seeing these bills, as made out in my father's hand?"' "You will find exact copies of them, here, sir." Mr. Ham- mond took down an account-book. "These are, in your writing, sir ; I asked for the originals." "I repeat, Mr. Sancroft- that your father never surrendered- tthe originals to my client or myself." "May I inquire, Mr Hammond, why your denominate Colonel Rasheigh your ' client?F' You are not- serious in y'ouir threat page: 388-389[View Page 388-389] 388 NE ME S IS. of a suit upon such ground as is supplied by these twice-copied bills?" "I- propose, sir, in the beginning to -obtain from your father the original letters, which he, with singular carelessness for a man of his exact habits, has, he declares, mislaid. The case will then rest upon a comparison of these with the bills exhibited to Colo- nel Rasheigh by Mr. Sancroft, Senior." "But you cannot produce them, you know P" burst out Mr. Moreau- - "You forget that they are lost. Allow me to say, Mr. Hammond, that other men are as careless as Mr. Sancroft i" "May I ask, Mr. Moreau, from whom you gained the information of my negligence and consequent loss?" said Mr H-ammond, coolly. Sancroft detected the transient, intense gleam of satisfaction in the: lawyer's eye at this outrageous blunder of the officious confederate. For himself, he was livid with rage, and his glower- ing looks awoke Moreau to a sense of his indiscretion. In fright and haste, he had no thought except to mend one falsehood by another, "I was Under that inmpression," he stammered. "Indeed, I am sure that I have heard some such thing, Oh I I remember I It was my uncle, Colonel Rasheigh, who signified as much to ime." ; That is remarkable, since Colonel Rasheiigh :l any intimation to that effect from me," retudne dtMr . iamond, very gravely. "How-he could have conceived of such an occurrence is inexplicable." , ' It waws some :oes of the family, if it was not he." Moreau stumbled on worse than ever, for Sancroft's iron heel was upon his foot under the table, and heowas too blind with folly and alarm to comprehend its injunction to silence. "If not lost, then, Mr HTTammnond," Sancroft interposed between the unequally-matched opponents, " will you have the goodness t to bring them forward?" "These are exact copies-as I have already said, sir. - NEMESIS. . 389 "I have only'your word for that " "And I only your father's for the authenticity of the docu- ments with which he furnished me., Keep your temper, Mr. San- croft. It is not very easy to provoke me to a quiarrel,rwhen there is nothing to be gained by flying into a passion,-if I do ' storm at the cows and negroes' when my corn-field is invaded.2 Moreau's lips took a bluish- tint, and his associate turned scarlet. . "What relevance has that to this subject?" he inquired, m-^a bullying tone, to hide his trepidation. "That remains to be proved. To cut short digressions--what does your father propose to do in his unpleasant dilemma,- Mr Sancroft? The creditors of Colonel Rasheigh, from -whom I have received duplicate bills, are ready to attest upon oath that these are literal transcripts of those- formerly sent to Mr. Sancroft. Colonel Rasheigh will testify that Mr. Sancroft assured mesin his presence that his formal accounts were prepared with the:utmost accuracy from those which he received. How are the palpable discrepancies in the two sets of papers to'be rbconciled Mr. Moreau alleges--upon what grounds 1he has not yet stated-:dis- tinctly-that I have lost the documents drawn up by yo father. Granting this to - be true, I flatter myself that my copiesdwill go as far, upon oath of their- correctness, as those of Mr. Sanlcroft, Senior, especially when mine are supported by copious memoranda, made on the night of the transfer, under Colonel Rasheigh's eyes. Nevertheless, I would advise, to avoid this complicated and deli- cate view of the matter, that he :take his stand upon what JIcall the original- documents. If they are lost, they may be traced; if mislaid, a careful search must bring them to light. - If I were in his place, I would leave no stone unturned -to discover :mnu- scripts so important. Theloss of -a small-bit of written paper is oftentimes a fruitful source of great evils, Mr. -Moreau.'? He wheeled his -chair so as to confront, the conscious thief,X page: 390-391[View Page 390-391] 390 NEMESIS. whose grimace, in attempting an easy smile, was amusing, yet pitiable. - i S-s-so I suppo-ose!" he said, shiveringly. ' You feel the draught from that window, Mr. Moreau. I will close it. Draughts are inconvenient things, particularly where there are loose papers about. And speaking of loose papers, recalls to me- an incident in the legal practice of a friend of mine, that may interest you, gentlemen. My friend, Thompson, had in his possession and under examination, certain documents which, if made public, would have seriously affected the reputation of a vman who stood well in the community. This man, whom we will call Jones, consulted with his nephew and a comrade of his, Smith-if you please to style him-as to ways and means for pur- loining said -papers. This strategem was agreed upon: at a given time, Smith, as a disinterested visitor to Thompson, entered his office and contrived a pretext to finger his papers. The -younger Jones was too much of a gentleman to carry out his scheme in person-therefore, he offered a bribe of considerable amount to a trifling fellow, who was skulking along the road- such a worthless chap as Bully Bob, Mr. Moreau, who assaulted your respected uncle, last summer., He bribed this fellow-as I was, saying, to pull down a panel- of the fence that surrounded Thompson's wheat field, and drive in upon the choice spitng grain a herd of cattle from a neighboring pasture. It was a cunning thing, for, you see, the agent was not apt to tell of his own mis- deeds. The trick succeeded to a charm. Out rushed Thompson, in a fury.--very much as I did, when a similar accident happened to my corn one day, when you were by, Mr. Moreau. It was a very ludicrous scene, I can assure you, Mr. Sancroft. Out rushed Thomp- son, then, and Smith quietly secured the desired documents, left doors and windows open, and followed Thompson so quickly, he did not observe that he had not accompanied him. The field was cleared; Smith offered his congratulations and departed N- E MESIS. 391 and Thompson, returning to his office, found everything pell-mell; papers cutting all manner of capers, and the leaves of books flut- tering like aspens in the draught. When the truants were col- lected, Thompson discovered his loss, and without delay went to communicate the circumstance to the owner of the missing cor- respondence. He was not at home ;but his wife, a woman of strong, acute intellect, was, and listened to his story with profound attention. When it was through, she said: 'There is a wheel within a wheel.- The wind is not the thief. Say nothing of this affair, even to my husband, at present. We shall find out the truth, in: time.' "Thompson obeyed to the letter. He did not divulge his su s- picions to his own wife : and, wdlId you believe it? in less than a fortnight, they had proof of all' they wanted to know. First, came to light the actor in removing the fence--uite unex- pectedly-for Thompson had his eye upon a different person altogether. The next step was the evidence of bribery, which the culprit offered eagerly, to screen himself, and then-in the'very nick of time, Providence, or luck, sent along an unexceptionable witness, who certified to overhearing part of a conversation between the accomplices, Smith -and Jones, as they rejoiced-over "their booty, on their way home. - In fact, it made out the pretti- est case of conspiracy and robbery you ever heard of. How-vry ill you look, Mr. Moreau I Let me get something for-you. -A glass of brandy-and-water is excellent for sudden faintness." "I would be obliged to you. I do feel very sick!" murmured Moreau. * "And I have been tiring you with my stupid yarn I How very inconsiderate I I will step into the house -and be back directly." He left the office, and Moreau stared helplessly at his acCom- plice. Sancroft, we are ruined I ll "And you have only your meddling stupidity to thank for itl" was the gloomy rejoinder. . reone. . . ' page: 392-393[View Page 392-393] 392 NE E s BIS. "But can you do nothing?" entreated Moreau, who had a childish confidence in his -companion's talents for subterfuge. "Of, course I can. Nobody but a cowardly blockhead gives up a battle before it is fought. With all his cock-and-bull story, I don't- believe he can prove the half of what he says. At all events, I will let him try it. Two can play at that game." Accordingly, while Mr. Moreau, sipped, and finally swallowed the entire contents of the tumbler Mr. Hammond had mixed to relieve his faintness, Mr. Sancroft stated his intention, on the part of his father, to consider further the matter in hand, and to inform him of their conclusion in the course of a week or ten days. It- was his own conviction that his father would insist upon -bringing the case into court. It was a novel one, and would involve a vast deal of expense and trouble, but these were not to be thought of a moment, in comparison with the good name of a man who-:was now, in his old age, arraigned for the first time for fraud I He asked for one favor only at the hands of his accuser-- that the affair should be kept as quiet as possible, until publica- ti-awas made necessary, in- order to carry out the requisite legal proceedings. * -Mr. ;Harimond attended them to the door, and as Moreau was passink out last, still pale and scared, the lawyer checked him with--"A word with you, if you please,- Mr. Moreau I Mr. Saneroft will excuse us for a moment." Reluctant though Sancroft was to leave his indiscreet victim in the power of such a master of the arts of cross-examination and spying out a guilty secret-and loath as Moreau loked and felt to endlure'the ordeal, neither-had any objection ready. While Sacroft sullenly untied his horse and pretended to busy himself with tightening the girth and rebuckling the bridle, Mr.- Ham- mond withdrew the downcast culprit into the office, and instead of -ehargng home hif-offence upon-him, as-he. expected, -accosted hi'l mildly. WEME 8IS. 393 "To you, Mr. Moreau, I would offer a little unprofessional advice. Whether or not the Messrs. Sancroft will push matters to extremity, and thereby blast their reputations irretrievably, I cannot say. My- surmise ishat they will make the experiment. I do not inquire if you are implicated in any manner in this attempted fraud " "I never knew a word of it until after the mischief was donel" was Moreau's vehement asseveration . "I prefer that you should note answer me quite yet, if you please. This caution is meant kindly, for you are laboring under excitement and might make imprudent admissions. I was about to remark that although probable, it is not a certainty, that' should the case be tried, your name will be introduced. Your uncle has no idea that you have any knowledge of the fraud or its Peculiar attendant circumstances. You cannot miatake-my meaning. Nor is it expedient that he should be informed of any of these unpleasant circumstances until our plans are more nearly matured. Therefore, your wisest course is to r4emain silent and passive. Should the worst come, it will still appear that more confidants would only have accelerated exposure." "But Mrs. Rasheigh H-my uncle's wife 1i I thought you said that she knew everything " "Mr. Moreau I Mr.,-Moreau! your are forgetting my whtnw ingl Mrs. Rasheigh's name has not been mentioned minthe whole conversation.' "You meant her I you know you did I Where's the use of denying it? Oh, Mr.: Hammond I am the most miserable man alive t I wish I had blown my brains out, twelve months ago. I have been living longer than that with a sword hanging over my head., I wish it would fall- and cut, me in two-for there would be an end of it v -? He dropped -his head on the back of a chair and sobbed out. right in his weak despair. - page: 394-395[View Page 394-395] 394 N E MES I S. "I. am sorry for you, Mr. Moreau I upon my word I am 1" said the lawyer, honestly, while he despised the wretched dupe of his, own passions and another's cunning. You 'have listened too credulously to evil counsellors; hlave obeyed them too faith- fully." - "How could I help it? They have me completely in their power-just as much as if I were chained hand and foot." "I would break the chains and take the consequences, let them be ever so severe. You may wonder at hearing such a sentiment from one of my profession, but I am daily becoming more tho- roughly convinced that an honest course is the only one that can ! be truly termed politic." "Yet you advise me against it!" "Not I I I have not recommended equivocation, only reserve. I am detaining you, and I see that Mr. Sancroft is growing impatient. I beg your pardon for the liberty I have taken. If I could aid you in this uncomfortable affair I would do so ; but, I con see no better plan of action for you to adopt than a prudent silence. "What did he say to you?" demanded Sancroft, peremptorily, as they put their horses in motion. "What you 'are eternally telling me to learn-to hold my tongue 1" answ'ered the other crossly,with very similar feelings to those we may imagine a worm to experience when he turns under the careless or wanton foot. "Was that all?" "He said that even if you and your father saw fit to stand the suit, and meet the disgrace that would attend it, I had better keep still." "Which means that your uncle prefersz;not to damage his nephew's reputation if he can ruin us without I Very natural I but we will see whether that is practicable. However, you may as well follow his advice for some time to come. If there is any NEMESIS. 395 sense in the maxim about the law's delays, I am determined that Hammond shall have the full benefit of the same. Don't hang yourself yet awhile I Who knows what a couple of months may bring forth?" page: 396-397[View Page 396-397] 396 N' EMESIS. CHAPTER XXVIIL. KATI RINE kept up her horseback rides throughout the autumn -partly to please her father, partly because she experienced a cruel pleasure in enduring the memories called back by these lonely excursions. Omar seemed to miss his mate as he'followed, without direction from the rein, the well-known bridle-paths wind- ing in and about the forests; but his mistress never spoke her regret at the substitution of bulky Thomas for her summer's escort. The laborer in wayside fields, and the frequent traveller along those roads, came to know and to watch for her appearance on every moderately fine day, always riding swiftly while in the highway ; sitting so straight and firm in her saddle, that it would have been a keen vision indeed that detected the increasing slen- derness of her figure-her eye so bright and her mouth so proud, that none remarked the hollowing and blanching cheek. Tramp I tramp I tramp over the gravelly road and the turfy by-way; through sand and creek and mire; through dead leavesi everywhere Hfor the farewell sigh of summer had died away among the hills long ago. Tramp I tramp I tr amp I while the swift pulses rioted in her wrists, and her heart beat like a caged. bird. against its bars, and there was ever that straining, forward gaze-seeking for what or whom? One gusty, cloudy afternoon, she dismounted, as she had often done before, at the foot of the hill back of the church and gather- ingh her train in her hands, ascended to the gravethat was now to her a shrine. At her last visit, two days previous to this, she that none remarked the hollowing and blanching cheek. -- 0 NEM ES I S. 397 had been troubled by the ragged, neglected look of so much of the turf as was visible, the inclosure being filled with fallen leaves to a level with the top of the mound. She had tried the little gate and found the lock firm, and her attempt to insert her-arm between the palings to clear away leaves or grass was alike futile. To-day there were no such offences to sight and feeling. The turf had been clipped and cleaned ; the dead matter all removed to a distance from the inclosure ; even the circular area appeared to have been swept. It was, without, doubt, done by the old housekeeper's orders. Her absent master's wishes were her law as absolutely as when he-reigned in person at Ben Lomond. Katherine leaned upon the top of the fence; and read again the inscription: . ",MARK HALE, OBIT. 179. t ETAT. 27. ' There remaineth therefore a rest for the people of God.", He had died in poverty and in prison I Were his last moments embittered by doubts of the fidelity of his distant friends? That reflection would add poignancy to any grief. She wished she had known this humble favorite; this nobleman in a peasant's abode and garb. Perhaps, if he had lived, her present situation would have been different, since his death and its accompanying circum- stances had wrought such-alterations in Malcolm's character and conduct. How she would have been affectedi she did not surmise i she only wondered vaguely if this untimely end of one whom she had nevet seen, had not exerted some important influence upon her destiny. A cold blast shook down the dry leaves in showers, and some- thing white fluttered, around the corner of thepalings to her feet. page: 398-399[View Page 398-399] 398 N E M E S I S. She picked it up. It was a handkerchief, sheer and fine, and marked in the centre--"Margaret E. Rasheigh 1" Could she have taken this article of her mother's property by mistake and lost it here?' It was improbable, yet she could not- disprove the supposition. She was still inspecting the cambric, as if it could account for its mysterious appearance, when Thomas, 'having secured the horses among the trees below, came up the hill. Regardless of his young mistress' surprised, and somewhat offended look, at this intrusion upon her privacy, he commenced a diligent search. within and around the inclosure ; turning over sticks and dry leaves, and staring up into the naked branches of neighboring trees. "What do you want, Thomas?" "Mary" (Mrs. Rasheigh's maid) telled me yesterday, that the mistress had lost a pocket handkerchief in the chariot or on the road, while she was taking her airing, and I thought mebbe she had dropped it here." "Here 1-has she ever been here?" "Many a times; every week a'most. She sets great store upon walking in these woods. -Her and'Mary rests here a bit, while John drives round to thejeross-roads and back, to keep the horses from taking cold standing. She comed yesterday after- noon to see hpw I had cleaned out the weeds and litter in the morning, and I thought, mebbe, she'd lost her handkerchief here.' The return to .his starting-place awoke Katherine. During this, for him, lengthyspeech, which he droned out, automaton- like, she remained gazing alternately at him and the handkerchief, as if stupefied by what she heard. Her mother had made secret and frequent pilgrimages to this- spot-had tended the tomb of the obscure mechanic as carefully as Malcolm Ahad done I Could she believe it? and, if so, to what motive should she attribute the marvel? .' "I have found- the handkerchief," she said, with the recollection SN .E ME 8 I 8s. 399 that she was listening to a servants tale-even more-interro- gating him with regard to what his mistress had chosen to con- ceal-an action her training had taught her to regard as highly dishonorable. "I will take it to Mrs. Rasheigh myself." She preceded him to the lower- ground, - and was ready to remount by the time he arrived, puffing after the effort to keep up with her rapid pace. On gaining the road, where the trees did not hinder her view of the heavens, Katherine discovered that the clouds hung darker and lower, and the more penetrating humidity of the air warned her of rain close at hand.- Omar responded with spirit to the shake of the rein and the energetic voice that urged him onward;.but he was too late in commencing the race. The large, slow drops were beginning to come in faster streams when the reeking horses reached home. . "My, child, we had become exceedingly uneasy on. your account,". said the -Colonel, standing upon the porch-steps-his tower of observation for the past half-hour. "I should. have'been displeased if the shower had wetted you. You should observe the weather more attentively when abroad.'" "You are very warm," remarked Mrs. Rasheigh. "Because I rode so fast, mamma. I have been in the woods, papa. That was the cause of my not perceivinghow threatening the sky had grown since I went out." - She threw off her hat, and -drew out a handkerchief to wipe her forehead. Mrs. Rasheigh recognized it at a glance;, and Katherine, chancing also tp look at what she held, grew crimson with embarrassment. "It is not safe for you to stand here," said her mother. "The , wind is too fresh. You had better go upstairs and lay off your - habit, and be careful not to get cool .too suddenly." She extended her hand for the handkerchief, which Katherine resigned as silently. She was not so obedient to the word of command. There was page: 400-401[View Page 400-401] 400 EMESI S. no firemin her chamber, and, after getting rid of the damp, heavy riding-dress, she stood-with bare shoulders and arms, as she had afterward reason to recollect-leanings against the window-casing and watching the drifting sheets of rain that now veiled the landscape and beat upon the panes, absorbed in perplexing thought, until her maid rapped for admittance. Colonel Rasheigh enjoyed the wet night. tHe had a fire built in the library, which was insuffrable to-every one else, and baied, or roasted himself in its blaze, with, apparent and audible expression :of the home comfort he derived from the operation. Mrs ilhReigh. wAs not well, and did not appear below after supper; Mrs, Holt was driven out by the heat, and Katherine shunned the apartment for the same reason. The family sitting- room was without ;a fireplace, and- the great parlor was cold and dark. She could not bear the solitude of her chamber and the sobbing echoes that called to her in the rain without. In her purposeless wanderings through the passages and over the stairs, she hapened upon the housekeepers room. Miss Nancy Wilkinson was tall, spare and angular'; a trifle too sharp upon the servantsi and with some old-maidish peculiari- ties of behaipr, and ideas, but was, withal, a very excellent manager, cook and woman. Her place suited her as well as she suited her employer6 only, she had been used to more familiarity --Was treated more as a companion among those who knew her history and connection, which were with one of the best families minte county. Her grandfather was a man of distinction in his neighborhood and time, and had owned more acres- than his descendanti did shillings. But his children spent faster than he had gathered, andfound the remembrance of past grandeur an insfficient provision for present needs. Hence, the grand- daughter's occupation. Unmolested by haunting spectres of the different thing which might have been, she now pat bolt-upright at a deal table, sleeves ' N EMESIS. 401 pinned up to her shoulders, stoning raisins . Citron, spices and sugar were ranged before her, waiting for their share of atten- tion. She looked benignly through her spectacles at :Katherine' s approach, for Miss Barbara had reported correctly respecting her opinion of the--"Englisher's" daughter. "What delicious compound are you at work upon; to-night, Miss Nancy?" she inquired. ' A real English plum-pudding, honey. Your ma has thld me exactly how to make it, as your pa loves it; and as to-morrow is his birthday, we are going to have roast beef and plum-pudding" "Good I So to-morrow is his birthday? I am shamed df myself for having forgotten it.' I am- ina busy humor, liss Nancy. Please let me help you. Will you tru ieMt-- to shred: this citron? I used to sit, for hours at a time, in our house- keeper's room in England, and she taught me a smattering of all sorts of cookery." "Why didn't -she crossthe seas with you?' "Her children were married and settled, and begged her to live amongsthem, and as she was getting old, she consented, and gave up -her profession.' A sigh stirred the starched folds of Miss Nancyisneckerchief. "Married women-widows I mean-don't often talke up that line-of life in this country. Indeed, there --are not many regular housekeepers about here. I don't know of but two others:beside me, in tefn miles round. Miss Polly SaundeTs, she -liveis at i r.[ Armistead's, for Mrs. Armnistead i inM poor health, and Barbary Brook has kept house at Ben Lomond for nigh upon fort years, I reckon. You imightn't think it, but she has- learnt me a -heap of things, - for am younger than Barbary by a good deal' - "Shexmust be greatly- attached to the family, to remain so long in one place," returned Katherine, mincing the translucent slips of sweetmeat. - "You may well say thatl. She has been a second mothber to " ' page: 402-403[View Page 402-403] '402 NEM ESIS. them children. Malcolm-Mr. Argyle, Hs'pose I ought to call Jhim, but I! cai't remember that he isn't a boy, any longer-he don't know any difference between her and his real mother, who died when he was a child. She was a beautiful woman. He and Mrs. Moreau both look like her-he most, though, for she had- such a lovely expression-such a sweet smile! Yes! he loves Barbary mightily, and is a great comfort to her in her old age." Another sigh. ' To be sure," she resumed, "I helped to raise a family of children ; but theirmother is living, andithat makes a difference. Then, again, they're not the same sort as Mr. Argyle. People can't change their naters, and'all hearts are not warm alike. If they were, Marcia Selden wouldn't never have jilted Malcolm Argyle." "Were you living at Mr. Selden's then?" ".I was, and a high time they had about it. Marcia was loath to give- him up, but her mother thought 'twas best, and maybe ,twas; but it's my notion, that a girl ought to think twice before she .throws away as much sure-enough love as Malcolm had for her. Dear me I I recollect as well as if it was yesterday, my meeting the poor fellow in the passage, after 'he got his discard. His face had no more color in it than there is in -a table-cloth, and he shook all over, in a kind of ague; but for all that, his eyes were, for all the world, like live coals-terrible to see I I was real sorry for him, but I was too afraid of his looks to-say a word.- I'd: as soon have taken hold of a lion's paw as offer to shake hands with him. He's suffered a great deal and a long time l" The innocently artful spinster had a double object in dwelling upon this theme , one being to determine for herself the truth of certain reports that had reached her ears ; hints of a second suit and, another, but more honorable rejection of her hero ; the other, to awaken an interest for him in Katherine's tender heart, if it had never moved for him before. 'w Nr E M E S Is. 403 There was a profound silence. The curling shreds of citron fell regularly into the dish, until the last piece was cut, and Katherine asked what she could do next. "The currants are to be washed, but it is dirty work, and I can't let youdo it." "I can weigh your sugar and flour. How much of each?' said Katherine, catching up the scales. Miss Nancy gave the direction required, and, convinced that her shafts had not hit the mark, took a nearer stand and more:direct aim. "Whatever sent Mr. Arkyle out West or South, or wherever 'tis he's gone-do you know, Miss Katherine?" "The desire to travel, I imagine."' "Barbary is mightily cut up about it. She hoped to have him near her always, and now, she thinks there is no telling whether he'll ever settle down again. I heard the other day, he had written home-that he had bought, or was thinking of buying, a plantation out there. That's the way with most men that go South. They never come back. 'Twill be a hard thing for Barbary to leave the old place-at her age l" Crash I came down the scales upon the table, and the two half-pound weights dashed into the bowl of eggs, breaking. and spattering them in all directions. Without apology for her fcare- lessness, or regret at its consequences, Katherine left the house- keeper to bemoan the catastrophe by herself. Miss Rasheigh's maid was not rung up to her room, that night, and after waiting until a late hour, went of her own accord to the door, and listened. All was) still, and her tap, repeated several times, received no reply. She tried the door. It was not fast and she pushed it open -softly. Katherine had fallen asleep in her chair, by the side of the hearth where the fire had burned out to ashes. She was in her night-robe, and between her hands was crushed a, little heap of papers---seemingly notes. Her cheek was blue and her breathing short. page: 404-405[View Page 404-405] 404 XT E ME S I S. "She will ketch her death of cold " muttered the woman. "Miss Katherine!" "What? Lucy I is it you?" said Katherine, in nervous con- fusion. "I was nearly asleep 1" She gathered up the papers and thrust them hastily into a drawer, which -she locked. "How fearfully cold it is 1" she added, shaking in every limb, while her lips and finger-tips were of a greyish purple. "Let me rub your feet, or get a hot brick for them!" begged the uneasy servant. "No, thank ybu I I will get into bed. Now, bury me in the blankets I I am frozen through and'through!" These were the last coherent words she uttered for many days. The next morning, sAe was -in a high fever and delirium-just the type of illness that was likely to seize upon one of her physical and mental temperament. The two physicians, summoned by the Colonel, looked grave over her, and evaded inquiries as to the likelihood of her recovery ; and for miles around, the story went like wildfire, that she was already given over by them both. Yet, such was Miss Barbara's seclusion and indifference to current events, that the news was a couple of days old, before she heard it. It reached her at night-fall, and an hour after sunrise on the succeeding day, she presented-herself at Briarwood, and asked to see Mrs. Rasheigh. She is in Miss Rasheigh's room, and cannot see company 1" replied Thomas, stoutly. ' "It's likely I'm come as company--isn't it?" said Miss Bar- ' bara. " I look like a fashionable visitor-don't I? I'll wait here in the sittin' room for three minutes and a half, and jist you step upstairs, on your tiptoes-mind you! and tell Mrs. Rash- leigh there's a person here wishes to see her." The specified time was exceeded by several minutes, when Mrs. Rasheigh appeared. She had passed the night in her . NE M E IS. 405 daughter's chamber, and looked worn down with sleeplessness and anxiety. She stopped short on perceiving her visitor, but without waiting to see whether her surprise were pleasant or disagreeable, Miss Barbara said, straightly and squarely : "I've heard that your daughter is sick, and come to help nurse her, if you'll let me. There's no hired nurses round here, and you ain't overly strong." This was only the second sight she had had of the "'proud English lady," and the former was restricted to a glimpse at the church, on the day of Mr. Laidley's preaching there. She had, however, heard such tales of her reserve and haughtiness, that she was immeasurably astonished when Mrs. Rasheighbheld 3ut her hand, with a smile of magical beauty, and said in a voice tremulous with emotion--"I thank you! If it will not- be an imposition upon your goodness, I accept your offer-gratefully 1 When can you come?" . "t In two minutes I I'll jist tell the man who brought me over, not to wait." She trotted to the front door, and was back directly, to follow Mrs. Rasheigh up stairs. "How is she this mornin'?i she asked, at the top of the steps. "No better 1P The lady spoke dejectedly. "That's because the fever hasn't run its course. There's no reason in gettin'.uneasy so soon as this." Perhaps she altered her mind, when she stood by the sick gil, and beheld the preternaturally bright eye; the crimson cheek; the tossings from side to-side on the heated couch, and heard the Atrained, hurried accents, that so pierced the heart of loving watchers---the 'utterances of the fever demon through lips that, were neve -before parted by such tones. Katherine talked inces- 3antly, foolishy, :wildly-prattled- as a child might have done to ler dog, her bird, her horse. She often laughed--a hollow; sense- less peals; sometimes--and that was hardest of all to bear-she page: 406-407[View Page 406-407] 406 N E M E S I S. sang, still in that false, strange voice, songs that she used to warble from -room to room, with the wildwood sweetness of her own linnet. "Poor thing! poor thing!" said Miss Barbara, when she heard this. , -- She had not spoken a word of compassion before. Her look and bearing had been precisely those of a professional nurse, who was conscientious' in her resolve to deserve her wages. She had come hither at the bidding of duty; but in her heart, there was no love and little charity for- the woman who had ruthlessly wrecked her " boy's " happiness. Distant and taciturn as was the mother, Miss Barbara was more attracted toward her than to the daughter. The concord between the stately lady and the- unpolished housekeeper was per- feet from' the moment of their meeting. Hitierto, Mrs. Rasheigh had not left Katherine's sick-bed. This morning, she retired to her own chamber, and slept for two hours, Miss Barbara assuming the -post of custodian in the patient's room. They attended her jointly, and by turns, never crossing each other in a single opinion, and conforming readily to one another's ways. Mrs. Holt, with every disposition to make herself useful, and suffering acute anxiety on her pupil's account, was a very tyro in nursing. Where book- learning could avail nothing, she was at sea, and Mrs. Rasheigh was so thoroughly aware of this that she would not have allowed her to administer the simplest medicine to her child. Therefore, the poor lady read consolatory works aloud to Colonel Rasheigh, when he was not too perturbed to listen, and to herself, when she had no auditor, and offered -up fervent prayers from her unworldly heart, for the restoration of the drooping flower of the household. Mrs. Aoreau, who paid daily calls, came as usual on the day of Miss Barbara's arrival. "Will you see her?V said Mrs. Rasgleigh, as word of her pre- sence below was brought up to the sick-chamber. Miss Barbara thought it an odd request, but complied. N-EM SIS. 407 "You here 1" exclaimed Mrs. Moreau. "You are the last per- son in creation I should have expected to see. Did they send for you?" "Mrs. Rasheigh's compliments and she hopes Mrs. Moreau will excuse her from coming down, Miss Rasheigh being so ill," re- peated Miss Barbara, demurely, without sitting-down. Mrs. Moreau changed her tone. "Nonsense, Miss Barbara l Take a seat and tell me all about poor dear Katherine! We are perfectly wretched!" "No need of that I She's as likely to git well as -to die." "Do you think so I The doctors consider hers a very critical case." "They say so, I know ]" "And she is really, better to-day I This is glad news i" "She's worse, if there's any change. But she's got to be worse yet before I give her up." "I ami delighted that Mrs. Rasheigh has engaged you as nurse. I have often told her of your skill in that line, and I am pleased that she has remembered it now. You can be easily spared from home, while Malcolm is away. When did you hear from him?" , / "Yesterday." "Where was he?' "In Louisiana." "How was he2 T , "Well." Miss Barbara yas growing bitingly short. "You will stay here some- time, I suppose, until the poor child's illness is terminated one way or the other," "I shall stay till she is -out of danger 1" Miss Barbara was mindful, in all this interview, of the fact that Mr. Moreauwas the next heir, after Katherine,- to hiMs ufcle' s estate, and stubbornly set upon distouraging' premature and unfounded expectations. page: 408-409[View Page 408-409] 408o NEMEIS. - "You have cheered me wondelly l" said Eleanor. "I must hasten home and carry the good tidings to Mr. Moreau. He is very much attached to his cousin. Is the poor girl sensible?" No." "Still delirious?" : Yes." "What does she talk about?"Involuntarily Eleanor lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. An idea darted into Miss Barbara's head: "What could' Katherine tell that Mrs. Moreau had rather should not be revealed?" And treading swiftly after it, came the recollection that ,atherine was staying, at Montrouge when she rejected Malcolm. , ] "About all sorts of things 1" she replied, reservedly. "Trifles, no doubt What a mistaken notion it is, yet what a general mistake, that people are apt, in delirium, to speak of what they think most of when well I As if a diseased mind 'could run in the same channel with a healthy one 1" ' No answer from Miss Barbara[ but an air of mysterious pru- dence. - "Does it not appear absurd to you?" urged Mrs. Moreau. "Some folks thinks one thing, some another i" oracularly. "But Katherine rambles on about trivial things, you say? * Does she know where she is, and who are with her?" "Sometimes she does-sometimes she doesn't." "Does she ever speak of us? I should suppose she would- she has spent so much time at our house." "If she did, 'twouldn't be honorable in me to tell you. I have something else to attend to besides eavesdroppin' what she wouldn't let on, if she wasn't out of her head. Would you like to seeMrs. Holt? I'nwiwantedupstairs I' "Eleanor went away uncomfortable, thus accomplishing part t 3NEMESIS. 409 of Miss Barbara's design, while, upon the mind of the volunteer nurse, the impression was fastened, that, as she phrased it to herself, "Eleanor had been at her old tricks," and " that there was underhand work somewhere." The red fever burned on, licking up the life-blood in its fury, until it seemed as if the veins- must be left dry, when its violence should be spent. The mother's face grew daily more wan, and her eye more sunken ; but she resisted the ravages of weariness and care with a strength that appeared not to belong to her delicate frame. Upon Miss Barbara's whitleather constitution, no amount of unrest or labor produced any perceptible effect. She bore up the better that her sympathies had become interested for her suffering charge. Wildly astray as Katherine'sthoughts ran, she was never rebellious to the gentle authority exercised over her.; invariably submitted, without demur, to the directions and restrictions of her/attendants. "She was never disobedient!" said Mrs. Rasheigh, when MiEs Barbara remarked upon this docility. The mother had just administered a nauseous potion, which was swallowed uncomplainingly, and is she replaced the cup upon the table, Miss Barbara saw the spasm that contracted brow and'lip. Except in these unguarded moments, she 'was composed, and evinced none of the deadly apprehension that was preying upon her heart. It was the ninth night after Kathemine's attack, a stormy November evening, when the wind roared like some frantic thing/ I trying to force its way through the rattling casements, and the leafless boughs of the grove groaned in the anguish of their writhings. By ten o'clock the household was still. The Colonel was in the library, to: sad-.and lonely to open book or'newspaper: He could only listen for the occasional footsteps upon theflo0or of his daughter's room overhead, and think of the terrible:t:hange that had fallen- upon -that young life; wonder, in a vacant, 18 page: 410-411[View Page 410-411] "O NEMESIS, piteous way, why she was smitten down, and he, a grey, sapless trunk, left standing. Above-stairs, the vigil was anxious to agony-agony expressed in Mrs. Rashejgh's compressed lips and bloodless cheek, and-Miss Barbara's nervous movements. Katherine's pulse raced more madly than ever, and her moans, as -she threw her arms about, and moved her head uneasily on her' pillow, were plaintive beyond comparison. Her voice, too, took a different key, low and mournful, and her fancies were no more gaily fantastic. Mother and nurse looked into each other's eyes inquiringly-fearfully-as the sounds fell upon their ears. Each silently asked, "What means the change?" Neither dared give language to the dread that arose in reply. "The rain I the rain 1' said the sick girl. "Oh, I cannot bear it I It fell just so mournfully that night! It says over and over, the same thing: 'Farewell, Katherine I Farewell, Kathe- rine i' I shall never see him again. Miss Nancy says that he . will never come back to Ben Lomond.;" From either side of the couch, those 'eyes, so full of fear, yet' longing to hear more, looked into each other, and mother' and nurse were still as marble watchers above the dead. "If I could have told him of the letter I -But I promised his sister that I would not. It was very bitter t I think I shall never feel such pain again until I come to die. He never loved me, al- though he would have married me. Was not that dreadful? He said so in that letter. He never loved any one but Marcia Selden." A start I and a ray of intelligence passed from eye to eye, and they stared fixedly upon one another again. "That was long ago-but he feels- it yet. His is a deep heart. He used to say that mine was, too. I think that greater sorrow is reserved for such. Deep as mine is, it is filled up to the brim. I am very young to suffer so much. They say the Lord is pitiful and gracious. Oh, Father! hear me, while I plead-I am so young I so young i" - "^ , i - NEMESIS. . , "Poor little lamb!" sobbed Miss Barbara. "Oh, Mrs. Rasheigh I I mistrust there has been foul work here! The Lord forgive them as done it 1" , "He never will I I never can!" She arose, like an outraged prophetess. "I have suspected this all along! Those who murdered the father, could not spare his child 1" Miss Barbara sprang to her feet in haste and fright-convinced that the girl's delirium had produced insanity in the mother. "Mamma!"Katherine settled her large, bright eyes upon her parent's agitated features. "Do you recollect the doll papa made for me-my Christmas gift? Where is it now?^ Mrs. Rasheigh was mute. "Where is it?" repeated Katherine, "I took good care of it, I am sure. When I find it, maybe you will call me 'Kitty' again. It would do your poor child good, mamma, I ache so- here!"She caught her mother's hand a nid pressed it upon her heart. "My Kitty! my precious darling I myown little Kittyl" cried the lady, pride and self-control breaking down before the rush of maternal emotion. Falling upon the bed, she clasped, her arms around her daughter and drew her to her bosom. Forgetful of prudence, she showered kisses upon her forehead, cheeks and lips, with passionate murmuringsof the long-repressed love. "Gentlyl gently you WiM excite her too much l" cautioned Miss Barbara-but her voice shook, and her countenance wore an afrighted look, as of one who had seen a vision from the other world. She pressed a glass of wine upon the mother, and persuaded her to lie down upon the other bed, which had been placed in the room for the watcherS While the lady's unwonted excitement passed off in hysterical sobs, the considerate nurse --busie her self about the patient; bathing her head and hands, smoothing the covers and turning the pillows. , page: 412-413[View Page 412-413] N E ME SI S. CHAPTER XXTX. DAYS passed, ere another syllable was said with regard to the communication mad te on thenightwhen the fever reached its crisis. There was no place in Miss Barbara's soul for curiosity or wonderment, for Katherine's life hung on a hair. At last, the physicians lost all hope, and the household gathered in the room to see her breathe away the poor remnant of a life, lately so full and strong. Then did Miss Barbara arise in her might, and after informing the pair of Galens that she-held them to be pests in any family which was so foolish or unfortunate as to employ them, she cleared the chamber of all intruders, commencing with the indignant professors of the healing art, and not stopping even at Colonel Rasheigh, whom she assured, as she shut him out, that she " would show him yet how much more a live daughter was worth than a dead one." After this coup d'etat, she took the case into her own hands, and her semiconscious patient soon acknowledged the efficacy of her nursing. In one week more, she was pronounced out of danger, and Miss Barbara began tf think of going home. One evening she left Katherine sleeping quietly, with Mrs. Holt to watch her, and knocked for admittance at Mrs. Rash- leigh's door. Thatlady had put on, the double wrapper she wore by night in her daughter's chamber, and her thick hair was brushed back from her face, leaving exposed its sharpened, rigid outlines. Miss Barbara did not marvel that she had not recog- nized her at an earlier date of their intercourse. But for her "3 page: 414-415[View Page 414-415] "4 EM ESI S. confession of her identity with the blooming, smiling wife of Mark Hale, her old friend would have questioned now the reality of her discovery. Not a feature, not a motion was Bessy's. Only an occasional intonation struck a responsive chord in the memory of the listener, as she made minute inquiries as to her judgment of the sick girl's condition. All was- going on well, Miss Barbara said. She wasn't likely to get well very fast. She had been too ill for that. But "slow and sure ", was the safest, and therefore the best rule after fevers. Then, she broached the subject of her own departure. The servants at Ben Lomond were trustworthy, yet it was her place, and her work at Briarwood seemed to be drawing to a close. "First-tell me why you came, at all," said Mrs. Rasheigh. Miss-Barbara's answer was as directly to the' point. "You love your child, and I love mine. When he went away -broken-spirited, because she had turned him off-he charged me if I could ever be of any use to her, to serve her as I would do him, if he were in her place. That's why I'm here 1" "Who told you that she rejected him?" "He did.2 "While she was at Montrouge?" "Yes."7 "Did she assign any cause for not accepting him?" "No." ' "What do you believe was ter reason?" "Think she was put up to it by other people--meddlers 1" "Enough I Why have you not asked me further about what my history has been since you parted from me, twelve years since?" Supposed you would tell me what you chose, when the right time came." . Without other introduction, and as composedly as if she were relating the story of another's life, she told the tale-which, as N E MES I S. 415 we shall learn its leading events from another source, we need not repeat in this place. "And this poor child, Kitty--Katherine! you believe that she has forgotten all about her living here-her father and Malcolm and me I And she used to be a smart, bright little creature too I -- "She has recollections of some events of her infancy. Names of places and persons she has lost. I considered it best that she should do so. There was no one to keep alive the- memory of these things except myself; and I have done all that I could to help her to forget them. A contrary course would only have made her curious and unhappy, without doing any good." "Maybe so; but it's sad to think on. Poor Mark 1"- Again that deep, but momentary furrow of pain in the fore- head-that tightening of the mouth. Mrs. Rasheigh said nothing for a moment-then replied. :. "Colonel Rasheigh has been a most kind parent to Katherine. She owes him a daughter's affectionate duty. Why should I divide her love for him by recalling a Past that would only make her wretched? Moreover, 1 am bound by a promise to Colonel Rasheigh not to divulge her real parentage to her while-he lives. He has never had a child of his own, and he is extremely-- jealously attached to her." "That's easy to see. She is the apple of his eye. But how did you happen to come back here? I should ha' thought you would have been afraid that somebody would know you." "Know me!" She smiled contemptuously at her image in the mirror opposite. "Would Adam have known the Garden of Eden after the Deluge -had passed over, it? People that have lived through experiences like mine- are never tthemselves -again, outwardly or inwardly. Did Mr. Argyle or Mrs. Moreau-did you remember me?" "You are mightily altered! Your daughter is like what you page: 416-417[View Page 416-417] "6 I EME SI . used to be. I noticed it the fust time I seen her, and Malcolm has often spoken of it to me." "Yet Mrs. Moreau pronounces her' a noble type of high-born beauty 1"' Her sarcastic tone suggested the repetition of a former question. "Why did you come back here? You must dislike to be on friendly, sociable terms with Eleanor and the Sancrofts." "Friendly terms i"Her brow lowered and her eyes glowed. "The Future may tell another story. I did not choose to come to America--still less to Virginia--still less to this neighborhood. Destiny willed it. When I married Colonel Rasheigh I was ignorant of his relationship to Robert Moreau. He had disowned his sister at her marriage, and it was not until within three years back'that accident made him acquainted with the existence and residence of her only surviving child. The discovery revealed to me a coincidence so remarkable that I encouraged his disposition to write to his nephew and propose a reconciliation. A corres. pondence grew out of this, which I read without taking part in it. In process of time, this same Destiny made another signifi- cant move. The physicians advised our removal from England, declaring that I could not live longer in so hiumid an atmosphere, and Colonel. Rasheigh, of his own free will, proposed that we should join his nephew in Virginia. Mark me I I was passive- wascareful to say nothing against-nothing in favor of the scheme. Yet I knew -that we would come. I saw the Hand, invisible to others, that drew me hither-that has armed me for my work i" "It is the Lord's doings 1" said, Miss Barbara, shocked at the effects of the suppressed excitement that shook her from head to foot. "It is marvellous in our eyes." "You:call it Providence. I bow to it as Destiny.. It is all the same thing-the One Certain Power, that avenges the weak and the wronged by human instrumentality; to whom the blood N E E I . , 417 of the innocent cries from the ground; the Judge who appoints a day of reckoning and retribution even in this world. This is the Deity I adore; for His chariot-wheels I have waited:--I am per- suaded, not in vain!" She strove to master the rising passion-fought with it until the veins stood out, blue and swollen within the sunken temples. A casket was near her upon the table, and unclasping it with uncertain fingers, she took out a phial, and hastily swallowed a portion of its contents. It was rapid in its workings upon the convulsed frame. A languor-a heavy listlessness stole over her -weighed upon her voice. "Your just sense of expediency will show you the necessity of secrecy with respect to this conversation," she said.- "Colonel Rasheigh does not suspect my early connection with his relatives. He married me without inquiry into my antecedents. I was a respectable woman--a widow with one child-poor and compara- tively uneducated. He gave me his name- and wealth; adopted my daughter, and, granted me every facility for acquiring -the knowledge I needed to fit me for my new station. He does not, even know that I have ever lived in Virginia before. It was' more than generous-it was a grand and noble confidence which he reposed in me. Until Fate ordains that he shall be disturbed, let him rest I "If you will excuse me, I will sleep for an hour now. When I rejoin you in Katherine's room we can speak of your going home. I hope, however, that you will not-insist upon it for some days to come." - "I don't feel like myself!" soliloquized Miss Barbara, walking up and down the passage to compose features and nerves. --"That woman is not in hek right mind I That's clear as daylight to me, and some of these days she'll do mischief I K BUt who can wonder at her? She has had trouble enough to drive any one crazy, let alone her having been whirled around the world--nbow i at the 18* page: 418-419[View Page 418-419] "8 NEMESIS. bottom, now at the top of the wheel. There's not a bit of Bessy Hale left I 'Twould have been a mercy to have covered her up in her husband's grave, when he was buried. Poor Mark It's a blessed thought that there is One who can see the end from the beginning ; who can bring order out of confusion and light out of darkness, for we silly, blind mortals git mightily bewildered in the crooked ways of this life." And, as was the custom of this earnest, single-hearted woman when overcome by perplexity about things beyond her ken, she prayed inwardly that the afflicted might be comforted and the erring reclaimed-not punished. Katherine awoke after a refreshing sleep, and found the kind, homely nurse at her side. She had recognized her so gradually in her weakness, that she was spared the confusion she would have felt at a sudden knowledge of her presence and attendance. Without inquiring why or when she had come, she resigned , her- self to her care with the trust of a child ; and as she regained her strength, testified her gratitude by many a look and word. "I have had a fine nap; I feel better," she said, smiling. "How late is it?" "Just ten o'clock." "I was in hopes that it was near morning. Do you think that I will sleep again before day?" "Oh, yes 1 You'll sleep more and more every night now, -until you do Just as you used to, when you- were well-never turn over from the time you lay down until you git up." "I havei not slept so soundly as that for many weeks I'j sighed Katherine. "Probably the fever was coming on and made me restless." "Very likely. Let me beat up your pillows. Would you like to sit up awhile?" "Can I? Am I strong enough?" "' We will see." NEMESIS. 419 She seated herself behind Katherine, with a pillow upon her arm, thus forming a sort of chair, in which the patient reclined with an expression of great satisfaction. 4 "I have had a pleasant dream!" she said, in the faint voice in which debility obliged her to speak. ' It was very distinct, too. You remember Mr. Laidley, the minister who preached for Mr. Kenny, one Sabbath last summer?" "Yes." "I dreamed that he had come to see me. He stood just there "-pointing to the side of the bed--" and said-you recol- lect his sweet tones-,' From the woes which our own sins and the sins of others have brought upon us, Christ is able to deliver us. If the Father smites us sorely, it is that we may be healed by the Son P" Astonished and thrilled, Miss Barbara was speechless. 'Kathe- rine lay, with closed eyes and smiling mouth, as if dwelling upon some delightful theme. At length, she asked: "Miss Barbara, are you a Christian?" "I hope so, dear." "I wish I werel Mrs. Holt is very pious, but although my 1 head understands what she says, when I question her about religion, my heart is as dull and cold as clay." Miss Barbara, charitable as she was, thought this a natural result of Mrs. Holt's strict adherence to forms and creeds-her correct, but, formal manner of speaking upon " serious subjects., "I have always said my prayers regularly and attended church. Papa and Mrs. Holt wished to have me confirmed, but mamma objected. She said some radical change of heart was necessary." "She was right. 'Our Saviour says, 'Ye must be born again.'" ' "I am too weak now to talk or to hear, but when I am stronger will you tell me more about these things? I have read of the 'Friend that sticketh closer than a brother.' I never had , * .z page: 420-421[View Page 420-421] 420 NEMESIS. either brother or sister, I am very lonely in the world "--her lips quivered, and a tear escaped from beneath the long, black lashes. "I think that I should like to have this ' Friend ' for my own." Miss Barbara gave a hearty assent to her request, and replaced her on the bed, lest she should become wearied by sitting up too long. Then, while the girl fell into a doze, the nurse laid her head upon the bedside, and besought the God of the covenant to remember this child, consecrated in infancy to His service. Miss Barbara was steadfast in her belief-if not of hereditary piety-- in the, efficacy of parental prayers, the power of parental faith. She had heard all the circumstances of Mark's last hours-how he had commended his family to the Father's care, and prayed that, he might meet them in heaven. She was not a fatalist, as was Mrs. Rasheigh, but she believed and rejoiced that she saw the: workings of a mighty and merciful Being, who, through devi. -ous and unlikely paths, was bringing this lamb into the fold. What the mother had overlooked in her disordered perception of duty to the living and justice to the dead, the God of the sainted father would yet perform in His own good time and way. , \ * ' *r -N EMES IS. , t CHAPTER XXX. Two weeks later than the time occupied by the events narrated in the foregoing chapter, Malcolm Argyle was' overtaken by nightfall in the midst of a Southern -forest. iHe had performed the day's journey alone, and perceiving that- he was not yetin sightSof the house he had expected to reach at sunset; he began to fear that he had lost his way. This idea gained strength, as the end of another mile showed" him still the seemingly interniinable stretch of woods on either side of the narrow road. -The shadows under the trees were growing blacker and broader, and dusk was creeping across the path a little way ahead of -him. The dense banners of moss pendant from the boughs were like sable drape- ries in the vast colonnade of Nature's building, as, with the cool of the evening, there fell upon the solitude a stillness so intense as to be painful. Putting spurs to his horse, Malcolm rode sharply on, as his best chance of getting other shelter for the night than the mossy branches, with a heap of withered leaves for his couch. Behind him, he knew, were many miles unmarked by human habitation. The darkness increased with every step, until but for the gap in the branches above, that showed him the stars, he would have had great difficulty in- keeping the road, such as it was. Mud- holes of inconvenient width and problematical depth; stumps from one to two feet high, left to be worn down by wheels and hoofs-and more than once a fallen tree, lying partly across .'ie route, were some of the obstacles besides the gloom that hindered . page: 422-423[View Page 422-423] 4 ,22 N EMESIS. his advance. Just as hope and courage were despairing of their final reward, the welcome tinkle of a cow-bell was borne to his ears. His horse pricked up his at the sound, and having some knowledge of the creature's sagacity, Malcolm dropped the reins upon his' neck and let him choose his own course. He observed, by referring to the stars, that they were bearing to the right, and from the frequent flapping, on either side of his face, of the hang. ing moss, he judged that they were in a byway, yet more narrow than the one they had left. The barking of dogs was further confirmation of their approach to a house of some description, and reining: up, he shouted until the: woods returned a deafening echo. "Halloo 1" came back with so weak a sound that he imagined himself mistaken as to his distance from the clearing, and was surprised a minute after, to see the gleam of a lighted door, not a. hundred yards ahead of him. This was obscured by a figure that emerged from it, and advanced toward him slowly, and ,evidently intent upon the kindling of a pitchpine torch in its hand. As this flared out into the still air, the traveller beheld the form and face of a boy, clad roughly and gazing curiously up at him. "I have lost my way in -the -woods. Can I stay here until morning?" asked Malcolm. - "I reckon so. I'll ask mother," and off -darted the little fellow into the cabin-for it seemed nothing more as beheld imperfectly through the darkness. The child returned, breathless with running and excitement. "Mother says you must 'light and walk in. I'll take your, horse." The hostess met him on the threshold. She was a woman in middle life-forty-ive, or thereabouts ; plain, but kindly-of visage, and attired, like her son, in coarse homespun. "You are welcome, sir, if you can put up with our poor way of living." N E E S I S. 423 "Thank you, madam. I am the one to apologize for intruding myself into your home, at such an unseasonable'hour. I missed my road several miles back, and did not -discover my mistake until night overtook me. I was forced to choose between remain- ing in the outer air until morning, and throwing myself upon your kindness." '"I am glad you stopped, sir. Please to take a chair. These are my two daughters!" she said, as Malcolm bowed to two shy, blushing girls of fourteen and sixteen, who retired from the fire at his approach. The house had but one room on the ground-floor, with a loft above. The furniture was mean and scanty, but scrupulously clean; plates and cups were set out upon a pine table ins the middle of the floor, and an appetizing odor of fried bacon saluted the traveller's olfactories. While the hostess dished this, one of her daughters raked out some sweet potatoes from their bed of hot ashes, and after brushing them off, placed them upon a pewter platter. Another of smoking hominy was added; a pitcher of milk, and a plate of butter, and the guest was invited to partake of the evening meal. "It is all we can give you, sir," said the good woman, coloring. "I wish we had something better." Malcolm declared, with an emphasis that carried with it con- viction of his sincerity, that he desired nothing more delicious. Insisting that the hostess should retain the seat of honor-the only chair that had a back-which she offered to him, he drew up one of the rude stools, such as the children used, and fell to work upon the eatables with the relishful hunger of a man who had been in the saddle and fasting since noon. The tact innate"to a true gentleman soon made them all feel at ease, and so won upon the good graces of the- head of the house, that she indulged, without restraint, in the rare pleasure of conversation with a stranger from the world beyond the page: 424-425[View Page 424-425] 424 N E M E I S. woods, and which she had not seen, for so long. Her husband had removed to this wilderness ten years before, when there was not another house or clearing within a day's journey. Now-and she stated it with the satisfaction of one who was proud of being the inhabitant of a thriving community-there were two other families, not more than six miles off. She had been a widow for four years. When her husband died and left her with three children to provide for--the youngest, the boy, whom she called "Mal,"' but seven years old-she felt as if nothing but starvation awaited them ; but the Lord had helped them through all their u' tough times.' The neighbors (?) were very kind. They did the spring and fall ploughing of the small farm; the planting and hoeing and weeding was performed by her daughters and herself. They had- an old horse, which was still able to carry corn to the mill, and to jog back and forth upon the little errands she had abroad ; and a cow, without whose milk they could not 'live; a calf that would be a cow next year, and always as many pigs as they wanted, that fattened iii the woods. To these artless details, Malcolm listened sympathizingly, and -with secret admiration of the contentment and courage of the faithful mother, who found so many blessings in a lot that to most people would have been one of unmitigated hardship. The supper over; both mother and girls sat down at the fire with their knitting. The boy established himself upon a block in the corner, -with--a- piece of board' and a bit of charred stick, to which he applied himself as diligently as though work and not play were his object. M "Are-you learning to draw?" iquired Malcolm of him. The boy looked up, and his fine, intelligent face was dyed with bashful blushes... ' , "No, sir," he replied. "ie is trying to write," said his mother, betwixt a smile and a sigh. "There's no schools near us, and if there was, I can't iNEME S IS. 425 afford to send him just now. I've taught my children to read and write as far as I could; but paper and ink are too dear to be wasted, and Mal hasn't any slate. The other day, he came running in, inr great spirits, to tell me that he had seen a lot of ends of smooth board over at Mr. Humphrey's, who is. building- a frame house, and Mr. Humphrey had told him he might have 'em, And he brought 'em home and r'ally they answer pretty well. He's improved smartly since he got'em. Show the gentleman your writin', Mal." With a deeper blush, the boy handed him the primitive tablet, on which he had scrawled-"Malcum Argile Foster."' $( Malcolm Argyle I where did you get that name, mylittleman?' "He got it in a queer sort of way, sir," responded the mother. "It was given to him by a little girl not more than five years old -Kitty Hale was her name." Malcolm started violently. "I once knew a person of that name," he said, huskily. "Where did she live at the time you speak of. Do you know where she is now?"- "Indeed I don't, sir, no more than the dead I 'Twas when we lived in North Carolina, in a place called Pineville. There wasn't anything of a town there, for all they called it ' ville,' hoping, I s'pose, that it would grow bigger sometime. There was the tavern and store, all in one, house, and the blacksmith's shop, and we lived on our farm, a matter of a quarter of a mile from the tavern. It was kept by a widow woman ; a Mrs. Smith, who married for her second husband a peddler named Bryan, a likely- looking, good-natured fellow, but law me I with no more sperrit in him than there is in milk-and-water ; just one of the sort that's always a-doing odd: jobs for other people and never earning the salt to his own bread. Well, the widow took up with him, and about six weeks afterward here came his sister, whose husband had just died in Yirginny, and her child, the little Kitty J was: page: 426-427[View Page 426-427] - NEMESIS. telling you of. It seems that Bryan had wrote to her when he was married, and sent a message from his wife, begging her to pay 'em a visit, for, according to his account, they were doing wonderful well, and Mrs. Bryan, she thought they'd do credit to her. family. She was a cute, managing woman, and fa'rly mad after getting rich. My husband was down at the store when the wagon drove up with Mrs. Hale, and I've heered him tell how she-dropped in a dead faint at her brother's feet, who was mightily shocked, seeing he hadn't got the news of his' brother-in-law's death. Well, they brought her to, and by and by got the story from her, and then there was a high quarrel between Bryan and his wife. She was for bundling the poor thing out of doors to take care of herself, and he showed some temper for once, and vowed that as long as he had a loaf of bread his sister and her child should have a'slice of it. I've heered that the poor woman appeared to be in a stupor-like while the fuss was going on, but the next day she told her brother how she would not stay where she wasn't welcome ; she'd beg along the road first I By this time Mrs Bryan had cooled down, and afraid of what people wculd say if she refused her husband's sister a place to lay her head, she- proposed that Mrs. Hale should pay her board and her child's by sewing and helping about the store and tavern. What could she do but agree to this? She was a stranger in a strange country, and could not get any other work if she had tried. " But twas a hard life she had of it, sir I Mrs. Bryan hated her, and while she made all the use of her she could, she worked her harder than she did her negroes. She was always saying spiteful things about her and to her. Bryan himself called his sister 'Bessy' for awhile, but his wife could not stand this, for her name was Betsey, and she give him no peace till he called her by her first name, ' Margaret,' instead, and Mrs. Bryan, to be aggra- vating, and disrespect her- in every way, altered this to 'Peggy,' when she spoke to her. This was one of the least ways she had of worrying her. She'd fling it in her teeth, how she had been throwed on her brother's hands-was eating her children's bread -she and little Kitty, and then dare her to leave her brother's house. She'd see that she had a name sent after her that would shut the door of all honest people in her face. Yet, they say that Mrs. Hale never answered her back one word except once, when Mrs. Bryan was going to beat Kitty for what she called 'sarce' to her oldest boy. Then Mrs. Hale seized her child and threatened to kill her sister-in-law if she ever laid the weight of her finger on her. I've heered that she was like a tiger, and Mrs. Bryan was desperately scared. She never struck Kitty, but she found plenty of opportunities of spiting 'em both. " When I first saw Kitty, Mal there was just a week old, and this little girl came over to our house, with one of the young Bryans to borrow a rising of yeast. Mrs. Bryan's had got sour. Well, I was struck with the child the minute I clapped-eyes on her. She was no more like Mrs. Bryan's red-haired brat, than snow is like red clay.. She spoke so modest and pretty, and had such red cheeks and bright black eyes, I couldn't help but stare at her all the while she was there. I was a-sitting by the fire, with the baby in my lap, and thinking 'twould please her, I turned down the blanket and showed- him to her. Mal, my son, get another lightwood knot." Malcolm did not stir during the pause that ensued, while the torch was adjusted to Mrs. Foster's fancy. Then, she dropped one of her knitting needles, and a general hunt was instituted before she could resume the thread of her narrative. The nails iof Malcolm's clinched hand cut into the flesh; there was a stric- ture, like the clutch of an iron hand upon his throat, and a ring- ing and roaring Wi his brain, like the beat of ahundied iron hammers, but he did not offer comment by word or gesture. Tan- talizing as was her verbose lengthening of the tale, he could not speak to hasten the sequel for which he longed. page: 428-429[View Page 428-429] 128 NEMESIS. "Well I as I was saying, I showed her the baby, and she was nightily pleased. "' What's, his name?' says she. "' He hasn't got any yet,' said I. "For youn see, sir, he was my third boy, and as I had called mne after my father and another after my husband, I wasn't particular about this one. He's the only one that's left now!" She was silent for a moment. "Says H' What must I name him, Kitty?' never thinking, you know, sir, that she'd take what I said in earnest. But she ooked up at me so wistful-so kind o' sorrowful-like, and says she-' I wish you would call him Malcum Argile'" Malcolm knocked over his stool and walked to the door; opened it, and stood gasping for breath. The picture was too painfully vivid. -,He seemed to see through the outer darkness, the large mournful eyes ofhis lost playfellow; was pierced in j the heart at this pathetic evidence of her affection for him. Again, from his soul, arose that sad and vain inquiry-"Dear little Kitty I where is she now?" He would summon strength to listen to the end. "I beg your pardon, madam!" he said, returning to the fire- place. "I was attacked by a slight giddiness. It is gone now. Pray go on 1 I am exceedingly interested in your history." "I was afeerd I might be tiring you?" said the flattered hostess. "I am apt to spin long yarns, the girls tell'me. a So, says I to her--'Malcum Argile I' says H-' honey, that sounds, outlandish to me. Did you ever know anybody of that aame?' "(Yes, ma'am,' says she, I and- he was a beautiful gentleman, but he's gone away over the water noW f "Father-that's my husband-was standing by, and he was always a soft-hearted man, and says he--' Mother,' says he, ' that hacll be the boy's name, jist to please her i' and being one of your NE M E SIS. 429 quick-upon-the-trigger sort, he reached down the family Bible from the chimbly-piece, and wrote it right down, and little Kitty a-looking over him, while he did it, and she was delighted, you may be sure. "A sweet child she was, and although she was nothing more than a baby, as you may say, she had sense and feeling in abun- dance. This ugly girl of Mrs. Bryants-she was- kind o' jealous of the notice we took of Kitty, and says she, in a rude, loud way-- Kitty Hale I you are taking on a heap of airs for a beggar, whose father died in a jail 1' "' He didn't l' says Kitty, as spunkey as could be. ' Mamma says I'll see papa again some time--so he can't be dead--can he, Mrs. Foster? Mamma says he's gone away, and she don't tell stories-ever '" "I hadn't it in my heart to tell her what her mother really, meant-that she would meet him in Heaven-and so I says- ' I hope you will meet him again, dear, and I've no doubt you'll be very happy together. "And after that, she was as chirpy as a bird. That's the way my Mal came by his name, sir." "But the girl I what became of her at last?" said Malcolm, dissembling his feverish impatience. "That's the strangest part of the story, sir I Things got worse and worse at the'- tavern. Poor Mrs. Hale was slaving from morning to night, until ghe was worn down to skin and bone, yet she was a pretty woman in: Spite of it. She had a grand look and walk, and spoke like a born lady. Mrs. Bryan was forever abusing her for her 'uppish ways.' I never saw -her smile, sir I I went down to see her a number of timnes, for my heart ached for the lone creatur', but she was backward in talk- ing-not one bit sociable. She never was at our house but once, and that was about Christmas, the winter after she came to Pine- ville. It happened in this way: My husband and I had page: 430-431[View Page 430-431] 430. NE ES I S. noticed that Kitty was getting shabby. Her clothes were always whole and neat, and her face and hands clean, but her : gowns were patched and faded, and her shoes 'fairly gone. So, when husband took our crop to town, he bought her a pair of shoes, along with our children's, and I cut off enough linsey from a piece I had just -taken out of the loom, to make her a frock, and sent them down to Mrs. Hale. ;That evening, she came up to see me, and brought a beauty of a plaid frock, which she said I had been given to Kitty more than a year before. She had out grown it entirely, and her mother hadn't anything to alter it with, but she reckoned 'twould fit my Emmy there, and it did- ! nicely. She wanted me take it as a proof that she was thankful to me for the things I had sent her girl, and, though I was loath to do it, I saw she would be hirt if I didn't. "By the time them shoes were worn out, a traveller happened?- to stop over night at Bryan's tavern-a rich gentleman, with his? ' carriage and horses and two servants. He hadn't been in Aeni riky long, for he was an Englishman" .y She stopped, for Malcolm's gaze seemed to go through her. "Go on--go on!" he said, impatiently. "This Colonel Rasheigh "- "I thought so i" The honest woman feared that her guest had lost his wits, and the girls clung silently to one another, as he strode up and down the room, unconscious where he was, or how he was acting. "Go on, if you please." . ;. He dropped upon the stool again. ^^ "You don't seem well, sir." "It is nothing. Go on l" "There isn't much more to tell. Colonel Rasheigh was taken, in the night, with a spell of gout that tied him down for three weeks. ,Mrs. Bryan made her sister-in-law wait on him-clear . v NEMESIS. 431 up li*sroom and take him his meals. When he got better, he paid -ils bill and left, and" matters went on jest the same, for all anybody else could see, and Mrs. Bryan hadn't a notion of any- thing between the Colonel and Mrs. Hale, until a month after- ward, he drove up to the door with a minister and a magistrate, and told Bryan that he had come to marry his sister. Wasn't there a to-do then I Bry'a hadn't a word to say, but nothing was too bad for his wife to heap upon Mrs. Hale. We hadn't heard a whisper of what was going on, and I was hard at work at my spinning, when there came sech a knock at the door that I a'most jumped out of my skin. When I opened it, I saw a very respectable-looking man, with a gold band around his hat and a stick in his hand. "Says he, '! wish to see Mrs. Foster.' -"Says I, ' This is Mrs. -Foster.' "Then he took off his hat and made me Pa bow, and says he, 'Mrs. Hale's compliments, and she would like to have you ride down to Mr. Bryan's. She wishes to see you upon important business.' "I put on my best gown in a hurry, and got into the carriage, feeling like I was in a dream. When I 'lighted at the tavern- door, the man helped me out, and then showed me up to Mrs. Hale's room-a cuddy-hole of a place, hardly big enough to turn around in. And there she was, dressed up as elegant as could be, in a grey silk gown, and a grey hat with black feathers, and white gloves. "'Mrs. Foster,' says she, ' I have made so free as to send for you to be one of the witnesses of my marriage with Colonel Rash- leigh. I am all ready' "She stooped down, and shut a trunk that I could see was full of handsome things. I've heard since that Colonel Rasheigh had had them made, and brought them with him that morning. "Mrs. Hale wasn't a bit flustered-jest as grave and quiet page: 432-433[View Page 432-433] 432 . NEM ESIS. as a judge, and my senses seemed turning topsy-turvy all the time. "' You will stay here, Kitty,' says she to her daughter. "The little creatur' sat up on the bed to be out of her mother's way, looking puzzled and scared--the pitifullest stare I ever saw "Will you come back, mamma?' says she, ready to cry. "'In a few minutes,' says Mrs. Hale ; and she went up to her and kissed her; but 'twasn't as I, or most other women would kiss their children-and says she, a-drawing in her breath hard, like a sob-says she, 'Your papa is downstairs, and if you will be a good girl, I will take you down to see him presently. 'He sent you that pretty dress you have on '--for the child was decked out like a rose. "We left her clapping her hands and laughing, and went down- stairs. ' ,Why don't you let her see you married?' says I. "'I do not want her to remember how she got her father, says she. "Outside the big-room door below, she stopped and caught her breath again, and there wasn't a speck of color in her face. I thought she was going to swoon, but at that minute, Mrs. Bryan came along the passage where we were standing. "'Mighty fine feathers, indeed I' she began, setting her arms akimbo. "Before she could say another word, Mrs.:Hale pushed open the door, and Colonel Rasheigh stepped up and took her hand. "Well I they were married, and we had a world of trouble to persuade Kitty that this was her ' papa ;' but, at last, she wiped up her tears, and let him take her on his knee. A kind gentle- man he seemed to be-about fifty-five years old, with a red face and very grey hair. They went away almost directly after the marriage was over. I heard Colonel Rasheigh say that they would sail for the old country in a week. When little Kitty NE M E S I S. 433 told me ' Good bye,' she slipped a purse into my hand. It was not very large, but it was brimful.- We found it very useful that coming summer, for we were all down with the fever, and my two oldest boys died about the same time that Mr. Bryan did. It was a dreadful year with many other families around us. I couldn't bear to stay there any longer, and we broke up and moved out here. I've heered sence that Mrs. Bryan was dead, too; but we've lost sight of 'em, moving so far off. Pineville l was always an onhealthy situation. We like this place better, lonesome as it seemed at first." "Have you never had any further intelligence of your friends, the Rasheighs?" "No, sir. I didn't expect it after they crossed the ocean. Kitty must be seventeen years old by this time. She was a year older than my, Polly there. I hadn't thought of the story in' months and months, until you reminded me of it by asking about Mal's name." "I am extremely obliged to you for the evening's entertain- ment," answered Malcolm, rising. "Now, madam, if you have a spare corner anywhere for me, I will thank Mal to show me to my resting-place for the night. I am weary, and I must be stirring early in the morning. : Irs. Foster entreated him to permit her to give up-the best bed to him, and when he Resolutely refused to turn her out of her room, confessed that there were tolerably comfortable lodgings "upstairs." The loft, dignified by this appellation, was accessible by a ladder and trap-door. The boards of the floor- creaked under Malcolm's tread, and after he stretched himself upon -the "shuck" mattress, he could catch the glimmer of the stars through the cracks -in the roof Had his couch been made of down, and his-chamber a royal- 'saloon, he would have passed as restless a night as was:: nowin reserve for him. It was, with him, one of- the seasons whenman 19 page: 434-435[View Page 434-435] 434 NEMESIS. feels himself to be a mere bubble, carried and tossed alone by the resistless tide of providential purpose. The quest of twelve years was at an end. All that mortal could do he- had done to track the fugitives. It had been one great wish of his life to make what restitution lay in his gift to the widow and child of his lost friend. And what had effort and desire and resolve effected? Nothing I He had rowed his tiny skiff in every direction, but never beyond the length of the unseen cord that held him to one spot; and when search was proved to be futile, and expectation was dying out, the mighty, mysterious wave of Destiny had brought the sought-for treasures to his side-aye, and would have done the same and as surely, had he remained inactive. They were found! and not through his instrumentality. In all efforts for this end he had been powerless-and now? How should he perform his vow of enrichment and protection of the unfortunates? They did not need him I From the memory of one his former self had passed entirely and forever. For aught he knew, the other classed him with the enemies who had hunted her partner to his death. For poor Bessy's wrongs and humili- ations his heart had bled, while the homely tale was told. He understood the proud, mute anguish whose very smart endowed her with strength to bear up under the insults poured upon her; recognized the flash of the old spirit in the passionate defence of her babe ; appreciated the temper in which, before her idolized husband had lain a year in his grave, she had wedded again, that' her child might have a home and herself an asylum. from insult and cruelty. . But they did not need him I He recalled Mrs. Rasheigh's every haughty glance-every icy tone. The mistress of wealth surpassing his own ; the wife of a gentleman, whose pretensions to rank gave him the precedence above himself in aristocratic con- sequence, she might well ignore any former acquaintanceship with one whom the silent force of circumstantial evidence must brand NEM:ES tS. 435 as an ingrate in her sight. And Kitty, his. early darling; his sweet little playfellow; his tender, devoted nurse, whose soft lips he had often felt upon his'brow in dreams of those boyish days t The glow that rushed through his heart, as in one intoxicating moment he identified her with the Katherine who had walked and ridden by, his side, and talked to him of the visions of her child- hood, the longings of her. lonely girlhood ; this blissful thrill was gone almost as soon as felt. No I she had less need of him than her stately impassive mother. To the latter he might make him. self acceptable by the wand of memory ; could explain away the false appearances that had caused her to misjudge his fidelity to his word; his- abiding and grateful friendship for her and her beloved ones. But with Katherine, there had been -no such impediment to a perfect understanding of his character and con- duct.- She knew him as well as she ever could, and with this knowledge she had refused his love. The thought that she was privy to the secret her mother guarded so successfully never pre- sented itself to him. He had implicit faith in her truthfulness ;' believed her sincere in every statement she had made with regard to her confused impressions of her childish life, and her declara- tions concerning her parentage and birthplace. A few short hours before, and had he- been told that the refuge of the wanderers would be made known to him, he would -have flouted the suggestion that any circumstance or combination of events could have deterred him from seeking them and making himself known. Now, what was more feasible than this oft-pre- meditated course? Yet he would as soon march to the stake as allude to their ancient amity; the dear and mournful associations that he had fondly imagined would be an indissoluble link between them. In the grtef, wonder and despair of those hours, so crowded with memories and with thoughts, he still recurred once or twice to Eleanor's peculiar relations with her uncle's wife, who must hold her in utter abhorrence, politely indifferent, as she page: 436-437[View Page 436-437] 436 NEB M ES I S. appeared to be ; to Mrs. Rasheigh's caution to her husband against the elder Sancroft, and her cavalier treatment of the younger upon several occasions ; but it was with the helpless feeling of one who sees others carried on with him upon the omnipotent current -straws, sticks, weeds-all worthless and insignificant things, borne steadily, inevitably wherever the wave listed. Mrs. Foster and her daughters thought that their lodger looked older and less handsome by daylight, than when seen in the red glare of the pitch pine. He seemed " misrested" too, the widow declared, and was profuse in her apologies for his night's accom- modations ; regrets and inquiries which he parried by the assertion that he had been served with everything that was necessary and comfortable. After his departure, one of the girls going up to make his bed, found a parcel pinned fast to the pillow whereon had lain his weary head, and brought it down to her mother. It was directed to "Mrs. Foster," and as she unfolded it four or five bank-notes fell from within, wound around with a slip of paper. Upon this was written--"For ' 2/al1's' schooling. From Malcolm Argyle." NEH MESIs. 437 CHAPTER XXXI. THERE was another solitary watcher of the stars on the Decem- ber night in which Malcolm Argyle saw them through the cre- vices of Mrs. Foster's roof. The open country surrounding Briar- wood was an expanse of snow, from whose surface trees and fences and buildings started up with ghostly distinctness, although there was no moon. Long, tremulous fingers of white light and flashes of colored lambent flame streamed up in the North, and the very air seemed spell-bound by the keen frost. There was no sound throughout the orderly English household. The broad staircase and the halls below and, above, were dark and still. The eye of an observer from without would have seen the lighted windows of but two rooms. It was eleven o'clock, and the'Colo- nel enjoyed his nap in the library, leaning back in his stuffed chair; his gouty foot on its cushion, and a large fire in the chimney. His wife had gone upstairs an hour before, to see that her daughter needed nothing that could ensure her a good night's- rest. He doubted not that both were sound asleep by this time.. Women required more of this natural refreshment, than robust men did, and he would have adduced proof of this " remarkable " law of nature in his own constitution, sound and vigorous, except for the gout, which was a blustering, harmless attack upon the outposts ; yet he had not retired before midnight, in thirty years, There was no echo or jar upon the upper flooring. Even Katherine, whose room adjoined her mother's, did not hear the slippered tread that wandered up and down-up and down-Mrs. page: 438-439[View Page 438-439] 438 NEMESIS., Rasheigh's chamber, until one would have thought the weary, fragile body must be ready to sink down in utter prostration. The noiseless step that habit had made natural to her in these nocturnal promenades, reminded one of the majestic, stealthy march- of a tiger on the scent of its prey, and the eyes, while they evidently perceived none of the objects about her, were searching, inquisitive, triumphant. The latter expression prevailed when she stood by the window and looked out into the horizon, where the forest belt was drawn darkly against the brilliant sky., Was it the dance of the northern spirits that fastened her gaze -the glitter and shiver of their serried spears-the leaping blaze of their soundless artillery? The gorgeous pageant was to her as if it had not been. Her thoughts were all of mortal forms and earthly combats. When she resumed her walk, the triumph was higher, and the thin lips were curled in a smile, that' was .malig- nant in its sneer. The shrewd, common-sense housekeeper was correct, in one sense, when she decided that Mrs. Rasheigh was not- in her right mind. One thought, one scheme, nurtured ceaselessly for twelve years, made the key-note of every meditation, the lever of every action ; its fulfillment, anticipated as the culmen of earthly hopes and desires--must eventuate in the insanity or monomania of him who thus plans and broods and craves. This unquiet spirit had possessed Bessy Hale's body since her husband's mur- der-she'never thought or spoke of it as anything less heinous. The pitiless treatment of herself and child by those who had courted her notice, when they fancied her in prosperous circum- stances, had augmented this morbid resentment. With the unex- pected, and to her, almost miraculous change in her position, began the growth of a fatalism that looked forward to the retri- bution of her enemies as a certain thing. First, she believed that she should hear of it--perhaps see it; then, as one coincidence after} another was bringing her back to the stage whereon had NEMESIS. 43-9 been enacted the earlier acts of the tragedy, the conviction stole upon her, awakening a shuddering joy, that she was to - be the instrument of punishment- the ordained NEMESIS,-s, who should hurl the decreed vengeance upon the quaking, guilty souls of her former persecutors. As she said to Miss Barbara, she considered that she had takenr no active part in the work, when, in reality, her hand had put in motion every one of the destructive engines, that were weaving iron bands about the condemned. But for her, Sancroft the elder would have plundered her husband with impunity and undamaged respectability, and have added his ill-gotten gains to his hoards. Had she encouraged, or even permitted the primary stages of the younger's addresses to her daughter, his disappoint- ment at the last, and his hatred of his apparently equally unsuc- cessful rival might have been less rancorous. She had ardently desired and secretly forwarded Malcolm's suit - to Katherine, and it was with a perception of this, that Eleanor withdrew her to Montrouge, and there matured the plot, to whose subtlety the mother already held the clue-& slender thread, it is true, but which her prescient eye saw growing into a cord the entrapped criminals should vainly endeavor to break. -But for -her the temptation to purloin the Sancroft papers would not have existed, and but for her, the theft would never have been- suspected. Her husband's growing distrust of his nephew and disinclination to make him part heir of his fortune was her work, although he did not dream that this was so, and she was only partially con- scious of the effect of her cautions and innuendoes. It was not in her nature to be a passive instrument, even in the grasp of the Destiny she professed' to worship. Work she must--work she did-'with a' methodical, unflagging, unmerciful purpose, and a will that never needed to revert to past grievances for stimulus. It was but a little longer waiting, and the personal liberty and the reputation of the marked ones would be in her power-nay, \ * .a page: 440-441[View Page 440-441] "O N ES s xs. this was virtually the case now. The Sancrofts had commenced the game proposed by the younger-of postponing the public trial of the case involving the honesty of the father, and there were easily found legal quibbles in abundance for their aid in the praiseworthy scheme. But to the avenger, it was a shallow arti- fice-a cowardly delay of the day which must overtake them, and why not soon, as well as late? What could they gain by t his course except a torturing suspense and a- prejudgment against them in the minds of the community? The Moreaus participated in the disquiet of their suspected associates; but husband and wife bore unequal portions of the burden. Eleanor was mainly solicitous lest Mr. Moreau's past intimacy with the son, and his recommendation of the father, should have compromised him with his uncle, and her useless regrets and chidings of him for errors committed and beyond recall, were irritating augmentations of the discomfort he suffered by day and night. He drank more deeply to quiet remorse and blunt anticipation; but the internal conflict--the hidden cancer--was telling upon his outward appear- ance. He- began to look like what he was-a mean-spirited wretch, cowering beneath the menacing consequences of his evil deeds-a caitiff, who had neither the courage to confess, the forti- tude to endure, nor the cunning to escape. Katherine pitied; his uncle wondered; his wife railed at and ridiculed his altered aspect and behavior. He bore all these exhibitions :of feeling better than he did the cool, clear ray from eyes whose meaning he alone understood, and dreaded more than he would have done the bale-. ful glance of the basilisk. Nor were his pecuniary trials lightened from the crushing weight beneath which he had crouched for so long. At this period, it chanced, unluckily, that Sancroft was his chief creditor-the holder of divers notes for inconvenient sums, due from Robert Moreau to William Sancroft, for value "received ;" nature of said " value" not specified, as, indeed, was not to be expected in confidential debts. That the law could IS . * ' N E XM S- S . I441 not oblige him to defray these obligations, if the circumstances under-which they were incurred was stated, so far from releasing him from the necessity of meeting them, was an added terror. Absurd as it may appear, the bauble to which the poor fool clung most pertinaciously-the, in his case, "shad'ow of a shade " he feared most to lose-was his fair name among his fellow-men. The idea of gross falsehood and downright thieving, did not appall him, much less did cheating and gaming and forgery, but the wagging of a gossiping tongue, the pointing of a censorious finger, were to him like a scorpion-lash. All this, the unwearied watcher and thinker appreciated and reviewed in her scornful triumph on this winter night. If one fhad dared to urge, in compassion to this one of her intended vic- tims, that his part in producing her humiliation and bereavement was slight in comparison with that of the others--his, the fault 'of thoughtless and unprincipled gallantry, while theirs was a deliberate and malicious plotting of her downfall-she would have made reply that he was eating now the fruit of other mis- deeds, unconnected with her; and that, were his misery indeed the work of her machinations, he could not be spared one pang, since through, and in him, was the chastisement of his wife, the principal offender, to be accomplished. Katherine was not yet able to join the family at the breakfast- table. She was, however, up and dressed on the following morn- ing, when her mother entered with a request from Colonel Rasheigh for a speedy audience. - From the hour when, as her mother's newly-wedded husband, he took her upon his knee, and heard her acknowledge him as her father, his love for the child of his adoption had struck its roots into the depths of his nature. The recent danger to her life had heightened this to idolatry, and his inquietude on her account was still so great as to be a serious drawhack, to his peace of mind and the comfort of his household. With the pertinacity of age, 19* 4A K - page: 442-443[View Page 442-443] "2 NE M E SI S. he refused to believe that she was mending as rapidly as she ought to be. It was of no avail that she wore her brightest looks during his visits to her chamber, and when she was carried downstairs, chatted cheerfully, and frequently more than was easy or safe for. her to attempt. He would have it that she was at a stand-still if not already in a decline, and not even his wife's arguments could alter this conviction, This morning, he was full of a plan concocted between himself and the family physician in the course of the preceding .day's consultation. Katherine was pining for change of air and scene. So soon as she was adjudged able to travel, he would, with her, proceed by easy stages to Richmond, and from thence to Charles- ton, to take vessel for Cuba. She should see tropical fruits and birds, -and feel tropical sunshine and breezes. Mrs. Rasheigh, whose health and inclination alike indisposed her for the tour, was to accompany them to Richmond, and, after a visit there, return to Briarwood, while Mrs. Holt continued with her pupil. For awhile, extreme amazement hindered Katherine from ex- pressing any other feeling with regard to the proposal. Then she inquired, with a touch of alarm, if they thought her situation so precarious that the change of climate was necessary for the pre- servation of her life. "Not at all,' replied the mother. "We believe that you would recover as certainly here, but more slowly. Your papa has planned this journey and voyage for this season, because it would be unsafe to take it in warmer weather. We thought,- moreover, that it would please you." "It will," said Katherine. "I shall enjoy it above all other things that could be proposed. You are too good, papa 1" Her cheek was mantled with a healthy glow; her eye had a glad, soft light, as she put her hand within his. He was grati- fied and complacent in the assurance that his wisdom exceeded NEMESIS. 443 that of all the doctors in the country--very proud of his scheme, and very fond of the daughter, who entered into it so readily. "But you, mamma?" continued Katherine. "I wish you were not to be left behind.-- You will be lonely here; I am afraid." "I shall not." She moved away, not willing to trust herself to say more. She knew with whom the far South was now associated in Katherine's mind and that hope sprang eagerly forward to the possibility that their projected route might cross that of another traveller. But the mother experienced a sudden pain at the momentary forget- fulness of herself, in the child whom her cares had just won from the jaws of death. Mrs. Rasheigh's secret schemes could not be better advanced than by the temporary absence of her husband. Young Sancroft had intimated to Mr. Hammond that the witnesses they had sum- moned, could not, in all likelihood, be gathered together, or the needful papers be made ready before the March term of the court, and the materials for her intended explosion could be collected better when there was no one at home who had the right to inquire into her movements. She had seldom seen the Colonel so bent upon a project of his own manufacture, and, in her fatalistic spirit, she believed that this unforeseen step was pregnant with important results, bearing upon what was become the grand design of her life. Therefore, she did not interfere or amend, save in the matter of her remaining at home, which the Colonel, however reluctant to part with her, was at length convinced was indispensable for the right conduct of hiss affairsi domestic and legal. He ordered the carriage, that very forenoon, and rode to Mr. Hammond's. - In the lawyer's hands he deposited his will which divided his estate equally between his wife and adopted daughter, Katherine Rasheigh. An annuity to Mrs. Holt and-a present to each of the English servants were the only reservations from page: 444-445[View Page 444-445] "4 N E EI -S I S. these bequests. Mrs. Rasheigh had been appointed executrix, but in the fresh copy which Mr. Hammond was instructed to pre- pare, Malcolm Argyle was made her coadjutor. A power of attorney was likewise drawn up, authorizing Mrs. Rasheigh to execute bonds and sign whatever legal instruments she deemed proper, during her hushand's absence. Mr. Hammond asked no questions. He only suspended his pen for an instant above the parchment, as he reached Katherine's name. "Adopted daughter!" he repeated, as if doubtful whether he read aright. "Those are the words, sir 1"But the Colonel grew purple and coughed, before making the supplementary remark-"I wish to be explicit, sir--to leave no room for troublesome litigation, while it is also my -desire that you consider this a confidential dis- closure. She is Mrs. Rasheigh's daughter by a former marriage -a circumstance of which Miss Rasheigh is herself ignorant." "I beg your pardon, sir 1" and the pen went on. "Excuse me, Colonel Rasheigh," the lawyer ventured to say, when the documents were ready and the Colonel was on his feet to. depart. "But it can do no harm to come to a full and mutual understanding of these transactions.. You herewith"- touching the papers--"linvest Mrs. Rasheigh with unlimited authority to act in your stead, while you are away---nimited!" "Well, sir 1" The Colonel stood, tightly buttoned up in his furred surtout-- very stout and very stiff. "These are unusual powers, sir, to be granted to any one- particularly a lady," pursued the attorney. "I do not lose sight of that fact, sir. But you must remem- ber another, which you cannot have failed to perceive-namely, that- Mrs. Rasheigh is an uncommon person, sir-a very re-mar- ka-ble woman!' N E M E ME IS. 445 And with that, the old gentleman climbed into his chariot, and gave orders to drive home by way of Montrouge. It was but courteous-to Robert and his wife, whose regard for himself and family appeared to be unmixed with interested motives-that they should be apprised of the intended journey. They were both at home ; both very attentive ; very agreeable; very affectionate. Both concurred heartily in pronouncing his plan delightful, and judicious beyond all praise of theirs, and- the elate Colonel Vould not render to his wife any intelligible account of the precise manner of its happening--but he was borne or coaxed on to that pitch of benevolence, that he invited his nephew and niece to join the party in their trip to the metropo- lis ; remain there, at his expense, for the week of Mrs. Rasheigh's stay, and then take charge of her back to Briarwood--an offer which Eleanor had considerable difficulty in accepting, without an unbecoming show of rapture. How different would have been her emotions had she known that it was a- salvo to an uncom- fortable sensation her rich connection sustained at receiving the overwhelming attentions of herself and spouse, while reflecting that he had just sealed an act cutting them off from all possible future benefit from his wealth 1 The Colonel's high good humor at his forenoon's work was abated by Katherine's palpable chagrin, and her mother's silence, when he communicated the proposition he had made to the Moreaus, and its reception. Mrs. Rasheigh was the first -to reassure him. While Katherine shrank from a renewal of inti- mate intercourse with her cousins, under an undefinable impression that all had not been right between them in the past, the mother's second thought was:'"It is done now, and objection would be worse than useless. It may mean something--may accomplish some decreed purpose." In this persuasion, she complimented her husband upon his liberality to his relatives, and thanked him for the con- page: 446-447[View Page 446-447] "6 E M E S I S . sideration he had shown for her comfort in providing her with an escort. Katherine was too honest to join in this commendation of a step that promised little happiness to her. She confided to Miss Barbara, who came at her summons to hear and wonder over the news, that this was, in her eyes, the most objectionable feature in the pleasure-trip. "The only one, I may say, if we except mammals refusal to go with us. Not that I have any dislike for my, cousin Robert and Mrs. Moreau, but you understand that it will seem less like a family party if they are along. A nd it is natural, since we are to leave mamma behind, that we should prefer to pass the last days of our companionship with her by ourselves, unchecked by the presence of comparative strangers." Miss Barbara did understand, better than Katherine herself could, why mother and daughter should dread the entrance of these intruders into their home-circle. No mortal living was more thoroughly acquainted with Eleanor than she was, and she had a conception of her ability and influence that verged upon absurd exaggeration. She had departed from her rule of non- interference in family affairs, so far as to hint her suspicions of this arch-strategist's recent manoeuvres, in a letter she had dispatched to Malcolm, and, as may be supposed, her hints were tantamount to other people's broad assertions. With Katherine, she could not be frank, and she held her tongue. The southern scheme sounded to her like sheer nonsense, and while questioning the certainty of its advantages to Katherine's health, she had her own reasons for deploring the Colonel's resolution to remove his daughter from the neighborhood, where Malcolm, on his return, would expect to find her. That he would come back, and that sooner than he had anticipated up to the moment of perusing her letter, she could not avoid hoping and believing. But Katherine was so gay and animated in view of the next N E M S I S. 447 three months, so confident of sympathy from every one'to whom she unfolded her plans, that her old friend was sparing of her expressed discontent, and tried to work off her rising ill-humor by energetic assistance in the laboring department of Briarwood, just now taxed to the utmost by the preparations for the travel- lers. She cut out and wound up bundles of unmade garments, which she engaged should be finished by the Ben Lomond seam- stress, Mrs. Rasheigh sitting by and directing how this and that was to be done, so gravely and naturally, that Miss Barbara recollected, in a dream-like mystification, the packages of home- spun, unbleached muslin and linseys, which she used to prepare for Bessy Hale to take home. 'By the middle of the month all was ready. Katherine had entreated that her faithful nurse should spend the- last night of her' stay with her at Briarwood; should sleep in her room upon the little bed where she had cast herself down for an hour of light slumber, overpowered by fatigue and drowsiness, while fever was scorching up the life of her patient. Mrs. Rasheigh seconded the motion, and the Colonel had, ere this, ceased to observe upon "the extraordinary fondness " of his daughter for this " well-dis- posed but remarkably eccentric person." There was a singular, a laughable contrast between the two, as they sat over the fire that evening, for a parting talk together. Miss Barbara was in her short night-gown, without ruffle or trim- ming of any description; a striped petticoat, blue and white, beneath it; her grey hair tucked away under a cotton cap, with an astonishing border, starched and crimped; her skirts drawn back from the square-toed shoes and worsted hose, incasing a pair of very decided-looking extremities; and that nothing might be lacking from the grotesque yet cozy figure, a long-stemmed pipe in her mouth. Katherine's nerves were not of-the kind that "cannot endure tobacco-smoke," while their delicate owner revels nightly, as in her native element, in a heated atmosphere, with page: 448-449[View Page 448-449] "8 N E MESI S. hardly enough oxygen in it to afford a full breath for one pair of healthy lungs-the happy multitude within it regaling themselves with laborious inflations of nitrogen, exquisitely flavored with Patchouli, musk, millefieurs and--vilest, most suffocating of all- Frangipanni. - Miss Barbara's nightly smoke was taken at the urgent instance of her -young hostess, who now sat watchingi the -blue rings in their slow waltz toward the fire-place, where they broke suddenly and made a flying leap up the wide mouth of the chimney, Her white wrapper was edged at the throat and wrists by dainty little frills; the lace border of her cap did not conceal the black tresses which had happily not been destroyed by the fever, and around her shoulders she wore, with negligent grace, a scarlet shawl. The fresh color had forsaken her face, and with it much of the piquant archness that once gave it its peculiar character; but languor and pensiveness endowed her with new, and perhaps greater loveliness. "I have been restless for the arrival of to-morrow, and now, that it is so near, I would put it off if I could," she said. "Why is this, Miss Barbara? Can it be a presentiment of evil?" "Everybody feels so, more or less, just before settin' out on a journey; I always used to in my travellin' days." "Did you ever travel much?" "I came from Hanover here, and I went over the mountains once, to see my sister-stayed nigh upon two months." She puffed very fast. "And did you feel then as I do now? did a dread hang over you--a sinking of spirit and a clinging to home, as the one safe spot upon earth?" "Yes, dear." "Did sorrow come from that journey?" "Indeed there did I My sister died while I was there, and-- I lost another friend near the -same- time." NEMESIS. 449 Katherine left a subject which she saw was saddening. "This is the 15th. We shall be in Richmond by the 20th. I own to a little curiosity to see something of town-life in this land. Have you ever been there?" "Once, forty years ago. Places change- in that time as much as people's faces." "It is a long time. Shall I, too, live to say, to some young girl, ' I saw such and such a thing forty years ago?' " "I hope so. If the Lord wills, you may. None of us can tell what a day may bring forth." "True I young as I am, I have realized, to some extent, the uncertainty of earthly things. But this is solemn talk I It depresses me. I wanted to try to tell you how grateful I am for your unbounded kindness-for saving my life? It is not worth much to me, or to any one else, but it is all the life I have." "Don't talk that way, dear 1" said Miss Barbara, as the girl tried to laugh-her glistening eye belying the pretense of mirth. "It is the most precious gift the Almighty can continue to an immortal soul that is out of Christ--the life of the poor body. For, while that lasts, there is a chance of salvation. Don't get into the habit of treating death lightly. It's worse than foolish -it's sinful l" "I have prayed for4its coming in times past," said Katherine in a low, sad voice. "No, you haven't 1" "Miss Barbara!" "I say you haven't I You thought you did, and that because you were unhappy, you were tired of living, but if death had seized you at thati very minute, you'd have fought with him, and cried out for your sweet life. , Depend upon it, dear, we ought to' return thanks to the Lord, every days, that he don't answer more of our hasty prayers." page: 450-451[View Page 450-451] 450 N E M E SI S. "It may be so. I wish--how I wish, you would teach me your contented faith, Miss Barbara. I meant to be your scholar this winter, and here am I whisked off to the South Pole, before I can take a single lesson. Heigho!" "The right teacher is with you everywhere." "But how can I know him? You will think me a heathen, I am afraid; but if you only knew how I reach and yearn for some solid resting-place, not so much for my faith as for my heart! It is a hard, cruel thought, that I have tasted all the sweetness in the cup of existence at seventeen. I am not eight- een yet-did you know that?" "You look older than you ate." "Do I not? This sickness has added ten years to my age. I am approaching middle-life-am but a trifle on the sunny side of "thirty." Miss Barbara removed her pipe to laugh. "You are a child, nothing else, and I trust there are many bright spots in this life for you. But, honey, maybe we shall not0meet again on this side the grave. I'm growin' old, and none of us can tell in what watch the Master will call. I want to say a thing or two before we part. I didn't come to you first because I loved you; but I had made a promise that I'd serve you, if you ever needed me." The rich color rushed to Katherine's face, and her breath was quick and fluttering. - "We've never called his name, dear, and tisn't best we should. Because I had give him my promise, I came to nurse you, and because I knew he would like to have me do it, I stayed and tended you as long as I did. Now, I love you for your own sake, and " "And for what other reason, were you going to say?" "Never mind!" Miss Barbara got up briskly and laid her pipe upon the mantel. ' N E ME S I . 451 "Better put this window up an inch or so, until the smoke is out 1" she said, suiting the action to the word. "Why did you stop so abruptly?" questioned Katherine curiously. "No matter I Only, dear," laying her hand solemnly upon the noble young head, " wherever you go, remember that the prayers of the righteous avail much, and there's been many of the right sort sent up for you, about which you've never heard- more shame that it is so!" she muttered, aside. , Were they yours?. "I always name you in my poor prayers, but 'twasn't them I spoke of." "VWhose, then?" But Miss Barbara ordered her squarely to bed, and, inflexibly unsatisfactory, betook herself to her own couch. i . page: 452-453[View Page 452-453] 452 NEMESIS. CHAPTER XXXTT. MRS. MOREAU enjboyed a holiday. The desire to be untram- melled during her visit to the capital, wrought with prudential considerations. of the risks to children in winter travel, and induced her to leave them at Montrouge in care of Sarah. Even baby Nelly could now bear the separation without physical inconvenience, and although her father besought that she might go with them, the mother's fiat was not revoked. This preliminary squabble-conjugal was, possibly, one cause of the, vast disproportion in the elevation of their spirits on the way, and after they took possession of their quarters in town. Eleanor had never been more brilliantly careless, more sparkling in countenance and conversation. The Colonel was temporarily fascinated; Katherine forgot her vague distrust; Mrs. Rasheigh remained- immovable. Mr. Moreaa was miserably uneasy in the company of his step-aunt, although, from her demeanor, one would have imagined her profoundly indifferent to him. 'He was not the person to interest a sober, thoughtful woman, serious to severity, who seemed to have lost all taste for frivolous talk and badinage, if she had ever affected anything so trifling. "I don't ask you to say clever things to her 1" said Eleanor, in one of her wifely tirades upon a style of behavior that annoyed her excessively. "What you cannot think, you cannot say, as a matter of course. But you were bred a gentleman, and need not act like a bashful clown, even in the presence of my Lady Lofty. She carries herself as grandly with me-and what do I . . care for it? The Argyles are of as good blood as any that runs in her veins. If she belonged to the royal family, you could not be more afraid of her." j Mr. Moreau heaved a mighty sigh ; but dared not unclose his lips, for fear of saying something that might compromise him. ro his unspeakable relief, his uncle rapped at the door. "Robert I I am going out to walk. Will you come with sle?" The conscience-haunted husband snatched his hat, and followed in a twinkling. The tavern-there were no hotels in Virginia,-at that day- X was a very dissimilar affair from the mountainous structures of brick, granite, ir6n and plate-glass, that now number their shift- ing population by the hundred. A substantial, respectable build- E ing, it only challenged the notice of the traveller by its superior i size to the surrounding houses, and its spacious entrance. The proprietor had his residence within it, and exercised unceasing supervision over every department, without betraying one symp- tom of the active, bustling Boniface, one is accustomed to picture i to himself at mention of a public house in the olden time. He I presided at one of the bountiful tables, in the dining-hall, paying , especial attention to his lady guests, and in the interim of his professional duties, chatted with them in the parlor, or with their fathers, husbands, and brothers, in the passages, and on the front steps-everywhere, and to all, the courteous and intelligent gentleman. For gentlemen, by birth and education, were not ashamed to "keep tavern" then. The honorable or the ignoble nature of the profession depended upon the character of the house and its master. Katherine, with her mother and Mrs. Holt, was in the private parlor of the party--an unusual requirement in the establishment, and one that riarked the English boarders as exclusives. It overlooked' the street, and the young girl sat at the window, page: 454-455[View Page 454-455] 454 N EM; ES IS. amusing her companions with playful remarks upon the passers- by. Her father stopped, as he went- downstairs, to inquire at what hour he should order the carriage for her morning- drive. The day was sunny, and not cold, and he advised that the airing should be prolonged until prudence warned them to return home. Rejoining his nephew, he marched out into the open air, with a traveller's alertness to go everywhere and see everything note-s worthy in the place. He condescended to praise the natural advantages of the town ; but " feared that many years, must elapse before it would attain to any eminence as a symmetrical or thriving city." -Moreau spoke a word for its warehouses and water-power, but his uncle's contempt for everything that savored of pretension in -the "pretty village" he patronized, was so apparent, that he yielded the point. As they passed another tavern, made conspicuous by a swing- ing sign, with a bell painted thereupon, a couple of gentlemen stepped out of the door to the sidewalk, and halted, in feigned or real surprise. They were the younger Sancroft and his friend, Mr. Woodson. Salutations were exchanged; the Colonel speaking to the latter in -a friendly, to the former, in a polite manner. "This is an unlooked-for treat, sir," said Mr. Woodson, blandly. "When did you arrive?' "The day before yesterday," was the reply. "And Mr. Sancroft and myself last night. What have you seen that interested you in the Capitol of our Old Dominion?" pursued Mr. Woodson, walking on with the Colonel, while the narrow pavement compelled Mr. Moreau to fall into the rear with Sancroft. The Colonel admitted that, thus far, he had not found many striking objects for observation or thought to feast upon. "Have you been into our halls of Legislation?" "I have not. Is there a fine display of talent there, this winter?" * ' *- ' * * , i NEME SS. . 455 "There was never more. The houses are in session at this hour. If you have no other engagement, you may derive some pleasure from a visit to them. What do you say to retracing our steps?" "I should be pleased to hear the debates. Mr. Randolph will be there, I presume?" "He is in our National Congress-not in the State Legislature." "Ah I I continually confound the two-which are no more identical than our British Houses of Commons and Lords." Mr. Woodson did not rectify this self-correction. If it satisfied its author, it did not concern him. "Mr. Randolph made a magnificent speech in Congress last month upon the war question. You heard him during his sum- mer's campaign, I think, Colonel Rasheigh?" "I did. He is a re-mar-ka-ble orator, sir! I cannot suppose that this new country contains such another. Why, sir, he would shine in the British Parliament!" They were now opposite "'the Eagle," where the Rasheighs were sojourning, and the carriage and four at the door had attracted a group of loungers, whose admiring inspection of the fine horses was highly flattering to the Colonel. As Mr. Wood- son passed his encomium upon the splendid leaders; Mrs. Rash- leigh, Eleanor, Mrs. Holt and Katherine, emerged from the house, and were handed into the chariot by liveried Thomas on one side, and the suave landlord on the other. The Colonel lifted his hat, with the deferential gallantry belonging to his character and generation, and his heart grew bigger at the recollection of his proprietorship in the two elegant women, who shared the unspoken, yet evident applause of the beholders. "You ought to be a proud and a happy man, Colonel Rash- leigh!" said the quick-witted Woodson. The old officer's heavy physiognomy was illuminated by a heart-beam that redeemed it from homeliness. page: 456-457[View Page 456-457] 456 ' ' NEMESIS-. "I am; sir. No man living has more cause to be thankful to the Divine Giver than I have." The visit' to the legislative bodies brought the promised enter- tainment of good. speeches, and a pleasant surprise, which the English gentleman enjoyed far more, in the form of a meeting with an old-friend and fellow-countryman, whom he had not seen before in thirty years. This friend, Mr. Wickham, had emigrated to America while comparatively a young man, and settled in Vir- ginia. Happening, on this forenoon, to be in the State Assembly, he noticed Colonel Rasheigh, and inquired who he was. The answer awakened a suspicion that it was his former acquaintance, and he forthwith introduced himself. The two had a long and deeply interesting conversation, broken off by the approach of the dinner-hour. Mr. Moreau had excused himself with the threadbare plea of ' biUsiness'--with whom or where, he was sure his uncle would not inquire. 'He rejoined the family party, just as the Colonel was relating the story of his fortunate rencontre with Mr. Wickham, who had walked with him to the door of ,the tavern, and requested permission to waitlupon the ladies, with his wife, next day. "Papa," said Katherine, thoughtlessly, "was not that Mr. Woodson with you, this morning?" "It was, my daughter. Why do you ask?" ' I do not like him. I never did," returned the petted child. "And, as I stood on the steps, waiting until the others got into the carriage, I heard one gentleman sayto another,' What is Colonel Rasheigh doing in that fellow's company? He was -once a common gambler about town, and follows the same trade now in the country!" - , A gambler?cried the Colonel, in anger and dismay. "Can this be true, Robert? What do you say to this tale?" Mr. Moreau's tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. Eleanor put on an air of shocked virtue., NEMESIS. 457 "What a consummate hypocrite he must be, if that is his real business I But no, it is ridiculous I We should surely have heard some whisper of it in all these months that he has lived near us I You have never seen anything suspicious in his con- duct-have you, my dear?" "N-n-n-o," said Mr. Moreau. "It is a matter of small moment to us whether the story be true or false," said Mrs. Rasheigh ; "Mr. Woodson has never- been on intimate terms in our family. He has been invited to Briarwood but once." "He is Robert's friend,' urged the Colonel, not pacified by this dismissal of the subject. "You introduced him to me as such, sir, and I have regarded him as an honest gentleman, when I would have repudiated the acquaintance if I had known of this stigma upon his character. I have rendered myself -the object of common talk by apparent intimacy with him. I have invited him to my house ; he has sat down at my table with mny wife and daughter. I am exceedingly displeased I This is a very re-mar- ka-ble occurrence, Mr. Moreau i" His wrath stifled the words; he could only gasp and strut about the apartment, in such a state of agitation as terrified his nephew out of the scanty measure of wit conscious guilt had left him. :- "But papa began Katherine's soft accents. Her mother interrupted her. "You are exciting yourself upon insufficient grounds, Colonel Rasheigh." It was an order rather than an expostulation. "Would it not be well, before condemning the man, to have stronger evidence than the careless speech of a stranger--casually, and probably imperfectly over- heard in a public^place? Would not this be in better keeping with your usual conduct? You are not apt to be so hasty in your judgment." She laid her hand upon his arm, as she reminded him that the 20 page: 458-459[View Page 458-459] 458 NEMESIS. dinner-bell had rung. Ere the dining-room was reached, he had regained' his self-control, and apologized handsomely to his nephew for his unwarrantable heat, before the first course was through. "But this is a tender point with me, Robert; my youngest brother-the uncle for whom you were named-was the means of teaching -me a lesson on gaming I I hate the very name of a dice-box or a card. If I were a king or a law-giver, I would make all games of chance punishable with death I Upon my soul I would!" "Be quiet 1"Whispered his wife. "You attract attention." As was to be' expected, when the fall of his fist on the table made the plates dance and the glasses ring for some distance on both sides of him. Katherine repented sorely of her imprudent remark. Her cousins were wounded; Mrs. Moreau offended, for the most skillful and assiduous attention could not win a look or smile from her all dinner-time. How rude and unprovoked had been her animadversion upon one whom Mr. Moreau knew and she did not I , How unkind and inhospitable in her to incite the Colonel to attack the nephew, who looked up to him as to a father l In the sincerity of her contrition, she followed Mr. Moreau, when he quitted the parlor after dinner, and overtook him in the entry. "Cousin Robert, I must say to you how sorry I am for my inconsiderate--my unfeeling gossip about your friend, Mr. Wood- son. "Don't call him my friend, Katherine. He is anything but that- "You are angry with me, and you have a right to be," con- tinued Katherine, yet more humbly, for he was gruff to surliness. "I ought to have known papa's abhorrence of a gamester better than to have suggested the remotest possibility of his having associated with one. It was too bad that you should have borne NEMESIS. 459 the brunt of the punishment I merited by my meddling tongue. You must not mind papa when he gets excited. He always speaks out in that way. You saw how ready he was to explain his language when he cooled down. He is a sensible man, and cannot but perceive the injustice of holding you responsible for the character of every one whom you introduce to him in a crowd like that in which he first met this Mr. Woodson. You will for- get his hasty censure and my foolish babbling-will you not, my dear cousin?" Her beseeching, winning look was so charming that Moreau could not withstand it. "You are a noble girl, Katherine ]" he exclaimed--" a perfect angel, to talk to me so sweetly after" "After what? After your unfailing kindness to me? I would be very ungrateful to forget that I have never received a cross word or a frown from you. You are the most gallant and amiable of cousins. I am not so rich in friends as to make me liable to overlook-one whose good will I have never had cause to doubt." Moreau hung his head. Glancing furtively toward the room where they had left his wife, he asked, in a half whisper: "Katherine, did you really care for Argyle, or was it, as she said, nothing but a fancy?" "Who is ' she?" Katherine fell back a few paces, and grew paler. "In there," pointing to the parlor. "You thought Argyle wrote that letter to her-didn't you?" "And if he did not, who did?" demanded the girl, breathlessly. A hand was laid upon the lock of the door near by; Mrs. Moreau's voice sounded louder, and while she paused to finish a last observation to some one within, ignorant of the dangerous parley without, Moreau darted down a side-passage, and Kathe- rine dragged herself to her room, which was not far off. page: 460-461[View Page 460-461] "O NEMESIS. At the social family tea in the sitting-room, she was quiet and heavy-eyed ; but it seemed the qyiet of absorbing thought, not unhappiness, and if, her smile were less frequent, it had a gentle, spontaneous beam, the more perceptible to the mother's eye because, of late, her show of spirits had depended so much upon the auxiliary-Will. These symptoms of radical amendment were lost upon the mole-eyed Colonel'; nor had Eleanor any just understanding of the change, which, from that evening, was mani. fest in her young cousin. When the evidences of this became apparent in her lighter, brisker step and increase of appetite, her father talked largely of the wonderful and instantaneous effects of his prescription, while Katherine's laugh and blush left him in the enjoyment of his theory. It would be going too far to say that she was happy-although, in the delightful relief afforded by Moreau's insinuation, she was ready, for a while, to believe herself so. With the credulity and precipitancy of youth, she jumped to the conclusion that the note exhibitedi to her by Malcolm's sister was a successful forgery; nor was she -backward in imputing the deed to William Sancroft. She had been blinded by shame and resentment, not to have detected this in reading it over. The handwriting was an exact imitation, but- the style, rambling, obscure-alternately mawkish and selfish ; how could she have been so egregiously duped? But the Moreaus-what was the extent of their complicity? At this hard knot she worked with growing perplexity. She recol-' lected the circumstance of Sarah's bringing in the letter and giving it to Mrs. Moreau, with the words, "From Master Mal- colm." Would the faithful servant be a party to a deception upon her mistress? Was it not more likely that since, by the husband's own admission, he was cognizant of, if not accessory to, the deception, the more intelligent wife also connived at the cunning trick? And here started up a nonplus--What was she to gain by the heartless, wicked device? That Sancroft-, ruled N sXiEES I S. -461 his luckless crony with a bit of steel and rod of iron, Katherine had learned to suspect from her mother's hints and what she had herself seen and heard. But Mrs. Moreau's allegiance to her lord and master was not so absolute as to involve her, of necessity, in his schemes. She had professed a warm attachment to her cousin-guest, and, irrespective of this feeling, it appeared but reasonable, when viewed from a worldly stand-point, that she should be gratified by her brother's alliance with the heiress of her husband's wealthy uncle. These were the pros and cons that hindered the equilibrium of Katherine's judgment-that followed her wherever she went, and visited her pillow at midnight. There was but one certain method of exorcising them, and that was by holding up between herself and the troublers the blessed conviction of Malcolm's true, dis- interested love-the acquittal of her now stainless knight from the accusations his unprincipled rival had arrayed against him in her mind. The tale of his early engagement, that had enveloped her life in cloud, was now the flimsiest of distant mists-a boyish mistake, that had tended, in no degree, to depreciate the value of the man's devotion. He had loved her, and had sought in her affection for happiness--not oblivion I If the tears flowed with the memory of her cruel rejection and more cruel, although veiled, taunts of unequal bargains in the sale or exchange of hearts, the sunshine brqke out again in that peace-giving thought: "She was loved, even as she loved 1"Toward the Future she gazed with trembling, delicious hope of explanation and recon- ciliation. She could. not discern. clearly in what way this was to be accomplished, fettered as she was by her nice sense of the binding promise of secrecy she had given Mrs. Moreau. But come it would I Suchlfaith was engendered by the knowledge of their reciprocal affection--such patience had her met-tled spirit learned' from the tedious probation of silent suffering. This heroic submission to what was inevitable, and this cheer- page: 462-463[View Page 462-463] 4X2 ' NEMESIS. ful constancy of hope, were the father's legacy to his child. There was no sign of either in the stern satisfaction-the gloomy joy- with which the mother watched the march of the Destiny that was to make the day of doom to her foes the season of her glorious triumph. * NE MESI S. 463 CHAPTER XXXTTI. MRS. RASHTFrTGH'S chamber opened into the common sitting- room on one side; Katherine's adjoined it on the other. Mr. and Mrs. Moreau occupied an apartment on the same floor, but in another wing of the building; an arrangement that afforded facilities for the lady's favorite and harmless habit of hectoring her worse- half. Her proficiency in the art had been acquired by diligent practice ; but never in the whole previous course of her married life had he furnished her with so many available texts as within the last week. He remembered her criticisms and injunctions no longer than it took her to bestow them upon him. He was stupid and moody and irascible; as she summed up his perversities--" contrary as a mule 1l'l The Rasheighs had a Christmas dinner served in their- parlor; very English in its appointments; and eaten two hours after the public meal of the same name was digested by republican gastric organs. It was-a stately, formal repast, brightened only by Katherine's smiles and Mrs. Moreau's bon mots, and washed down with a solemn glass of full-bodied -port. Mr. Moreau's was the most lugubrious visage at the board, and it was plain that the quiet entertainment was ill to his liking, for, when the table was removed and the family drew up around the fire, he obtained leave of absence" to smoke one cigar," Mrs. Rasheigh disliking tobacco, and did not show himself among them' again that even- ing. Mrs. Moreau was more than annoyed. She was exasperated page: 464-465[View Page 464-465] 4.04 NEME S IS. against the partner she had engaged to- "love, honor and obey." He needed a thorough "going over," a regular " bringing to," both of which duties she sat up to perform that very night. A grand design may be brought to naught by a trifle, and her eloquent harangue, matured by several hours of uninterrupted thought, went out in a single exclamation, like an imperfect fusee, when, at two o'clock, A M., Mr. Moreau was brought up to his chamber in the arms of a couple of negro waiters, dead drunk. In one respect he was exactly fitted for -her purpose, inasmuch as he could not speak an intelligible word; but this qualification was -of questionable value when joined to an inability to hear. With anger too hot for tears, she discharged the men, who inquired compassionately if she wished them to undress him ; with her own hands tore off his outer clothing and his boots, and partly led, partly tumbled him into bed, where he snored drunkenly until late into the following morning, his wife perforce bottling her wrath against such time as he should be released from the dominion of the other fiery spirits that held sway over him. With emotions of intense disgust, unsoftened by any charitable movings toward the lover of her youth, the father of her children, Eleanor, having completed her own toilette, began to pick up the various garments from the floor where she had flung them at night. Hours must elapse before her husband would be fit to be seen. She must excuse him at the breakfast table, and who of the party would be so simple-minded as not to connect the morning's sick-. ness with the unexplained disappearance of Christmas evening? These irregularities would ruin his prospects of his uncle's final favor ; and Mrs. Rasheigh I Eleanor fancied that she already saw the glitter of her cold eyes gloating upon their disgrace I "And all to satisfy a drunkard's thirst 1" she muttered. "A grand, a glorious thing is man I the noblest work of creation I In nothing else so strong as in appetites that would debase a soulless brute 1" NEMESIS. 465 The soliloquy was broken off by the falling of some object from the clotheihe was hanging in a closet. It was a pocket-book- a capacious wallet, whose present state of collapse tempted Eleanor to the dishonorable act of opening it, to ascertain if it was entirely empty. In idle, wondering curiosity, she fingered one vacant pocket after another, until in the fourth, she found a packet done up in silver paper. 'A jealous instinct told her that it was hair, and she unwrapped it. Instead of the black, brown, or golden tress she expected would blast her sight with the open- ing of the last fold, there dropped into her palm a flossy ring, she recognized at once as having been clipped from the flaxen poll of baby Nelly. At another time the mother's heart would have 'been melted by this evidence of, at least, one pure sentiment that had survived the general wreck of right principle and feeling. Now she thrust it back contemptuously into the wallet. "If he really loved her, he would not be in such haste to beg- gar her 1" In the next and last compartment, was a quarter sheet of coarse foolscap, so lately written upon that the ink was still pale. Eleanor pored over it with a scowling suspicion. It was hastily or carelessly penned, and here and there were splotches of ink, shaken from an unsteady pen. It was apparently some kind of memoranda jotted down upon the most convenient slip of paper. "S . . .... ... ... ............ . $ s o w ............. ................ 160 H -...... . ...... ..... ........... 300 S ....................... ........ 500 W .. ........................... 600 $1,610." After' some minutes of unavailing scrutiny, she replaced the paper and took out another and a smaller scrap. 20* page: 466-467[View Page 466-467] "6 N E M E SI S. "Received of Robert Moreau $760 (seven hundred and sixty dollars), by check upon the --- Bank. u JAMES WOODSON I "Aha!" The ejaculation broke harshy upon the stillness of the room. The unintelligible list of sums was again drawn forth, and when the addition of the separate amounts opposite the initial "W," resulted in a total exactly corresponding with that receipted by the check, the case was made out. Eleanor had, ever since her marriage, been aware of her hus- band's propensity to the vice of gaming; but it had never occa- sioned her serious anxiety until about three years before, when he lost a heavy sum, and the transaction reached her ears. A stormy scene ensued-threats of separation from her, and a fee- ble show of independence on his side ; but the contest ended in a solemn promise from him that he would never throw another card for pecuniary loss or gain, and not play at all, except in mixed companies of ladies and gentlemen, or, with a friend, at his own house. Like many other able generals, Mrs. Moreau had an ex- alted idea of her own influence, and the reality of her apparent victories. In other respects, she allowed that her spouse was dis- posed to be unstable, but that he would knowingly controvert her designs, or willfully violate a compact made with her, never entered her busy brain. So entire was her confidence in his good faith in this instance, that she was wont to inveigh, with virtuous strictness, against the prevalence of card-playing and, betting in their neighborhood, much to the diversion of the initiated, whose knowledge of Mr. Moreau's proclivity and practice was founded upoinevidence more conclusive than his mere word. She had be- stowed many signs .of approbation upon the reformed gambler, often sitting down with him herself, to a snug game, when she fancied that he felt dull, or was longing for his accustomed excite- ment. Here was her reward It duplicity so deep, ingratitude. so black, infatuation so-reckless, that even this bold, unscrupulous woman stood aghast. She could scarcely restrain the frantic effort to arouse him from his tipsy slumbers, and upbraid him with his crime, learn the extent of this monstrous villainy. This was the key to the mysterious depression that had hung about him for so long--a cloud, that gathered blackness daily I This was the worm that was gnawing soul and body I Who could say upon what verge of ruin and disgrace she and her children might now be standing? When she had spoken of her innocent babe's ap- proach to beggary, it was no hyperbole of passion, although she may have deemed it such. Mechanically she replaced the paper that had showed her this abyss of confusion and woe. There was a rip in the lining of the pocket-book, and through it protruded the corner of a note, that had, by some means, found its way to a lodgment between the inner and outer leather sides. Mrs. Moreau's prying fingers seized it and extricated this. It was soiled and crumpled, as by toss- ing about in the pocket or wallet. A mortal pallor overspread the dark, handsome face, as she read it-a look of affright and wonder, surpassing all powers of description. It was the scathing epistle penned to her, by her brother, eight months back, concern- ing the loan he had made to her husband. The insane fatuity that had led to its preservation can only be explained by subscrib- ing to the homely axiom, so uncomplimentary to the father of lies -to wit, that, although zealous to get his followers into mis- chief, he always leaves them to get themselves out. Mr. Moreau had never quite persuaded himself that the safe season for destroy- ing the intercepted missive had arrived, and after tucking it into the hiding-placeeaccidentally offered for its reception, he considered that it was as secure from discovery there, as it would- be in the fire. "The mills of the gods grind slowly!" To these significant words, Eleanor's gaze returned fixedly. page: 468-469[View Page 468-469] "8 NEMESIS. And she and hers were food for these avenging engines I Through all these years of outward prosperity and inward vain-glorying, the bloodhounds had been upon her track I There was a brief paralysis of abject terror-of deadly despair ; then, the lion-spirit rallied, not to sustain, but to resist its, sentence. What was this mummery about retribution-this senseless analogy between her state, and that of the vulgarians, whose folly and presumption had ended in just degradation-but the ravings of a crazy man, whose fancies had made him the laughing-stotk of reasonable people? Who else could ever have espied any connection between the death of a delinquent debtor of a fever, and Mr. Moreau's hum- bling himself to solicit a loan of his wealthy brother-in-law? With a sneering laugh, she tore the billet into bits and threw them into the fire. In an hour Fore, she was seated at breakfast, at Mrs. Rasheigh's right hand, listening and replying with a pla- cid countenance to the Colonel's inquiries and regrets on account of her husband's sickness. "He will be well enough to go with us to Mr. Wickham's to dinner-will he inot?" said Katherine. "I hope so. Still, these severe spells of sick headache shake one so fearfully that even should the pain subside, it may not be prudent for him to mingle in a gay party this evening. If he, remains at home, I, as a dutiful, affectionate wife, shall stay also; but you must not suffer our movements to affect yours. Do you think that you will feel equal to going out, my dear madam?" "I shall pass the evening here," rejoined Mrs. Rasheigh. "I have an idea!" exclaimed Eleanor, seeking, by factitious gaiety, to dissemble her true feeling. "You, uncle, can escort Katherine and our good Mrs. Holt, here, to your friend's house to dinner. Mrs. Rasheigh and myself, with Mr. Moreau as our cavalier, will join you to-night at the theatre. It was a part of your plan to attend the play-was it not?" to Katherine. "Yes. Placide is called a fine actor. Mr. Wickham's praises WNEM Es 18 . 469 of him and his company have made me more than curious-anx- ious to witness their performances. You know my liking for the histrionic art. If it is an unworthy taste, Mrs. Holt is to be cen- sured. She introduced me to Shakspeare." "The legitimate drama is an appropriate study for the wisest of philososophers," observed Colonel Rasheigh. "It presents an ample field for the investigation of human nature. It inculcates a love for virtue and abhorrence of vice, and portrays the benefi- cent effects of one, and the punishment of the other in so re-mar- ka-ble a manner, as cannot but have a salutary influence upon the mind and heart." "A summary of human life-an abstract of human experi- ence!" said Katherine. And, to her annoyance, Mrs. Holt glided off into the smooth tide of trite quotation- "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players-- They have their exits and their entrances, And one man, in his time, plays many parts." Mr. Moreau awoke at noon, with a headache, a parched woolly mouth, and a sense of something dreadful, past, present, or to come, sitting heavily upon his soul. His wife waited upon him with portentous calmness. She let him shave, dress and drink the coffee she had ordered for his breakfast, without a syllable of rebuke. But, when he divided the burden of his trembling limbs between-his chair and the fender, and proceeded to fill his pipe for a composing smoke, she opened her battery. Even his muddled intellect perceived the futility of denial * the folly of any feint at excuse. His tongue was, for once, too thick for falsehood. He sat, cowed and dumb, pressing the unlighted tobacco into the bowl of his pipe ; the wet hair clinging closely to his reddened forehead ; his eyes, bloodshot and watery, cast down. page: 470-471[View Page 470-471] 470 N E M E S9I S. ward upon his hands, and let charge, proof, verdict and vitupera- tion pour in upon him like fiery hail. Now and then a wince or a shiver showed that he was not altogether deadened to a sense of pain. This happened once, when she demanded where he obtained the deposit from which Woodson was to draw liquidation of his claim: He shook then, as with a tertian ague, and mumbled something-impertinently enough his wife thought-to the pur- port that the " least said about that was soonest mended." His agitation subsided, instead of increasing, when she retorted, with a savage accent, that she " supposed it was a reserve sum, set aside for such contingencies out of the money lent by her brother. It was a highly consistent use to make of gains which had been employed as a medium of wanton insult to the wife he had not the manliness to defend." From this she glanced, as an exquisite instrument of torture, to the silvery curl she had found in his pocket-book, expatiating upon the perverted moral instinct of the unnatural father, who could lay this memento of his spotless babe by such records of evii dealing as occupied the next compart- ment. If these were the associations with which she was to be brought in contact, it were better that she should die before their influence polluted her pure nature. Not that he would regret this event I His conduct was decisive as to his sentiments toward his unhappy family. They could be nothing but an encumbrance, a hateful clog, upon the hands of a gentleman of pleasure" "For Heaven's sake, Eleanor 1" he interposed, imploringly- "Don't say that I I am a scoundrel I a wretch that deserves everything else that you have said and the gallows beside. But I do love my children, and I never -meant to wrong you I The Lord knows I never did I Wicked as I am, the thought of baby Nelly's sweet face almost breaks my heart I I wish I had died before she was born. I should have been saved from the sin of robbing that one of my babies,' He rubbed his hand over his eyes. NE M E S I S . 471 ' Fine words and, theatrical airs cost nothing," Eleanor assumed. A fraction of the remorse and upright intentions he now expressed, would, if reduced to practice in season, have saved him and them from ignominious poverty. Now, the most cheering anticipation any of his household could experience with regard to him was the hope that some barrier could be erected that would prevent all future intercourse between himself and the innocent creatures he had so basely injured. For her part, she was in a frame of mind to pray that none of her poor, defrauded, disgraced children should ever see again the face of him, they were instructed to call by the holy name of " father." "Eleanor!" he said, hoarsely-"You do not-you cannot "mean that! Do not drive me to desperation I Take it back!" "Not one word of it 1" She confronted him with eyes that burned luridly. "Not one word of it I I say it would have been well for them never to have seen you,. and that the greatest bless- ing which could come to them would be never to meet or hear of you again in this world. Make what you will of it 1" He gave her a long, piteous stare ; then reached down his hat from the mantel and slouched it over his brows, put on his cloak and went out unsteadily, like a sleep-walker near his awakening. Eleanor sent a jeering laugh after him. "Don't forget the tragedy to-night 1" Then she was alone:,with her raging passions, and they ravened upon her at their mad, fierce will. In the family circle, she maintained the hollow show of smiling decorum. Katherine had not attended party or assembly since her illness, until this evening, and the girlish pleasure of seeing herself again arrayed in gala costume was manifest in her richer bloom and sparkling eyes. Her dress was blue satin, of the shade now called " mazarine," trimmed near the bottom of the skirt with a band of black velvet, a quarter of a yard deep ; the puffs of her sleeves were caught up with loops of the same material, page: 472-473[View Page 472-473] 472 NE ME SIS. and it edged the wide, flowing' ends of her sash. Her hair was knotted high up at the back of her head, secured by the tall comb whose ornamented top added more than an inch to her stature. A pearl spray confined the curls upon the left temple, and she wore a necklace of larger pearls. The rarely fine lace in which Mrs. Rasheigh had the. reputation of being a connoisseur, composed her stomacher and peeped out below her sleeves. Blue satin slippers and white silk stockings ; a fan of carved ivory and rice paper-a fragile, curious toy--and long kid gloves supplied the fin- ishing touches to the toilette of this favorite of beauty and fortune. The Colonel had bestowed far more thought upon his dress than Katherine's had cost her. A broad-skirted coat of dove-colored cloth, with immense buttons of mother of pearl, a waistcoat of white silk, embroidered with lavender; breeches like the coat, with-silver knee-buckles, white stockings and high-heeled pumps, would excite the derision of fashionable circles now. Then, they formed an appropriate garb for the portly English gentleman ; nor was the powdered hair inadmissible in the best society, although it had ceased to be the " mode." "I wish the young gentlemen dressed as well as you do, papa!" said Katherine, saucily. "Costume, as an art, is going out of fashion, I am afraid--among the gentlemen, I mean. With ladies, it must remain a perpetual study, until the end of time-and toilettes I I am ludicrously reminded of a humming-bird when a modern dainty gent flourishes up to me on tiptoe, bedecked in a pea-green coat, a blue waistcoat, and, perhaps, light-brown panta- loons, and prays--me to exhibit myself in the next dance with him. It is a call upon my moral courage to say ' Yes' to such a re- quest. Happily, there is no dancing at a dinner-party or the theatre, and I can have the best-dressed gentleman in the com- pany, for my bean-especial," with a mock-respectful courtesy to her father. / He tapped her cheek, laughingly. "And I see no reason why N EME SI S. 473 I should not be vain of my daughter, also. What say you, mamma? Is not the little witch going to surprise us yet, by growing into a moderately fine woman?" "I will not submit to such faint praise 1" cried Katherine. "When everybody says I am the express image of what mamma was, at my age I I allow that she is handsomer now. - Is she a ' moderately fine woman,' papa?" The Colonel looked at his queenly wife with undisguised pride. "She is always the 'fairest, discretest, best ' of her sex, in my eyes." - It was seldom that his manner to her was caressing in the pre- sence of others; but, as he said this, he stooped over and kissed her brow. "I shall not expect certainly to meet you at the play. Much as I should enjoy your society there, I should be displeased were you to risk your valuable health by going. That is the first consideration." Katherine had bidden her mother, " good evening," and was at the door, when Mrs. Moreau warned her playfully, " not to lose her heart." "Unless I can bring home one worth twice as much--you would say, I suppose?" said she, looking back, with a bright glance her mother never forgot. Mrs. Moreau and Mrs. Rasheigh resumed the light work that had employed their fingers, when-the diners-out entered to pay their adieux. Mrs. Moreau talked volubly and sometimes un- meaningly. Mrs. Rasheigh appeared to listen, and when she could not, without 'direct rudeness, do otherwise, spoke a few words. The uncongenial colloquy was interrupted by a servant, who informed Mrs. Rasheigh that a gentleman wished to speak with her, as Colonel Rasheigh was from home. "Show him up I Keep your seat l" said the lady to Eleanor, page: 474-475[View Page 474-475] 474 NEMESIS. -after a glimpse of the person, who was just without the door, showed her that he was a stranger. He was a civil young man, who introduced himself sensibly and without any affectation of diffidence. "My name, madam, is Crump ; I am a clerk in the -- Bank, and I was sent here to acquaint Colonel Rasheigh with the fact that suspicions are entertained of the genuineness of a cheque bearing his signature, which was presented to day. We are not so familiar with his handwriting as to be positive of the forgery. Indeed, the cashier, being pressed with business at the time, paid over the money, without close inspection of the cheque. It was not until subsequent examination excited his doubts that it was decided to refer the matter to Colonel Rasheigh." "'Have you the cheque with you?" "I have, madam," taking out his pocket-book. "Since Colonel Rasheigh is out, and promptitude may be necessary, if we wish to apprehend the forger, or get back the money, and you, no doubt, know Colonel Rasheigh's signature perfectly well, madam, will you have the goodness to examine this paper?" It was worded thus- "Pay to Robert Moreau or order the sum of seven hundred and sixty dollars ($760). "HENRY L. RASHLEIGH." At a casual glance, it -might readily pass for a fac-simile of the Colonel's characteristic autography. His wife detected the coun- terfeit on the instant, and that she did so, was seen by both the lookers on, who watched her with such diverse emotions. The bank official respected the honest indignation at the liberty taken with her husband's name and funds, that hurried the crim- son over the wife's face, until then colorless as alabaster, and the prudent self-control that compressed the mouth to shut back the unguarded speech that would have forestalled the course of justice. NEMESIS. 475 Eleanor realized, as by a lightning flash, that her busband's reputation was in the hands of one upon whose leniency he had no hold. From the moment of the man's stating his errand, the truth had curdled the blood around her heart, and remembering her husband's expression at her inquiries about the check given to Woodson, she felt that her suspicions had been slow in awaken- ing. Her inner sight read every word of the forged paper as plainly as did Mrs. Rasheigh's eyes, while her bodily vision, strained to acuteness by mental agony, recognized the endorse. ment upon the reverse of -the note--"Robert Moreau." Would that stern woman never speak? Why feign to scru, tinize what she had condemned at sight? Did policy withhold her sentence? It was not mercy. The gentlest of divine attri- butes never softened such eyes as those. "It is my impression," said Mrs. Rasheigh, slowly, " that Colonel Rasheigh did not write this. I. am, however, not dis. posed to affirm that he did not. I prefer that you retain the paper, and call upon him early to-morrow morning; he will not. be in again, until late to-night." "Cannot you inform me where he may be found at present, madam? Delays are dangerous." "I will take the responsibility of this one." Awed by her dignity, he begged pardon and retreated. Mrs. Rasheigh took up her-needle once more. "It is growing colder," she said, glancing out of the win- dow. "Was that note a forgery?" asked Eleanor, in a discordant voice. "It was." Mrs. Rasheigh answered as unconcernedly as she had remarked up:on the weather. "Do you know who wrote it?" "I do." "Who?" page: 476-477[View Page 476-477] ^Q476 NEM ESIS. "Your husband 1" There was a pause. Eleanor was literally wrung with anguish. She bowed her face upon her knees and groaned--an outhreak of passionate woe, that seemed to rend the heart as it escaped. Then, she lifted herself and asked-still in that harsh key: "What do you mean to do with him?" A thrill of unhallowed joy ran through the frame of the Nemesis-she was acknowledged as the arbiter of her enemy's fate I Her voice was untremulous. "It is Colonel Rasheigh's affair -not mine." "But yourinfluence over him is unbounded." "I never interfere in his business." "What do you think that he will do?" "I presume that he will let the law take its course." '"And the penalty is "-- "The penitentiary." "You are not in earnest?" said the half-crazed woman. "Is it likely that I would jest on such a subject?" Her coolness was maddening; her slight, scornful smile piti- less as death. "For the love of mercy!" cried Eleanor, crushed to her knees by the view of the gulf at her feet. "If you have one spark of womanly feeling, think of your own child, and pity my little ones." "They are truly unfortunate, but not more so 'than others have been. Mr. Moreau can blame no one except himself, for their degradation." "I know it, but he is weak-minded, and easily led astray. He has been fearfully tempted. Represent to his uncle that this is his first offence of this kind. What is this paltry' sum to a man of his wealth? If he will pass this over, and save my husband, I promise solemnly, that he shah be repaid, if we are made home- less by so doing. Will you not plead for us?" NE ME S I S. 4? She said all this kneeling upon the floor-humbled in the dust --her eyes lifted toward the stony features of the advocate she sought to enlist. "' His first offence of this kind i' In what class of offences am I then to place the letter written in -the name of his brother- in-law, which, you showed to my daughter? Why do you sit there? Get up and answer, for this is but the beginning of the account between us." The total alteration in her countenance and tone, struck Eleanor, excited as she was. She obeyed. "The letter I the letter!" she replied, to gain time, "I do not remember it." "I mean the epistle suggested by yourself-penned by your husband, and read by Katherine, while she was at Montrouge last fall. Were you the principal in the matter, or was he?" "It was William Sancroft's proposal." "And you condescended to follow where so contemptible a reptile crawled. There is a paper which you may return to Mr. Moreau. He left it upon my desk at Briarwood, the day you called to invite Katherine to your house. His head was so full of his master-piece, that he could not refrain from practising his penmanship, wherever and whenever he found paper and pen ready to his hand. That is a better imitation of your brother's signature that Mr. Moreau achieved of his uncle's in the check I examined just now. , You ought to be very proud of his talents as a scribe." The cruel taunt was urnheeded; Eleanor was constrained to look at the sheet handed to her.' It was scribbled over with un- connected words, among which--"Ben Lomond '--"My dear Eleanor," "Mal, olm," "Malcolm Argyle," "Miss Rasheighh," occurred-all in a feigned hand, bearing so close a resemblance to Malcolm's that it was impossible to suppose it an accidental coincidence. page: 478-479[View Page 478-479] 478 N E M a S I S. "Whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad," was a proverb that might well be placed, in this connection, alongside of the one which her brother's voice now seemed to reiterate in Eleanor's ear. "You poisoned my child's mind against a true and fond lover. Is it this which I am to remember to beget in me pity for your children? He was driven from his home by her rejection, and her mental suffering produced the illness which had well-nigh made me childless. Are your 'little ones' to reap the :benefit of this reflection? What think you? Would a mother be likely to spare the murderess of her daughter? Look at me, Eleanor Argyle I Can a wife spare the murderess of her husband?" / At her almost forgotten maiden-name, Eleanor did look up. She saw a form, instinct with such energy, an eye, dilate with such wrath, as metamorphosed the cold, languid invalid into a Pythoness, breathing vengeance. "Who are you?" she said, shrinking from the apparition. "The ' cobbler's wife,' whom you scorned I the suppliant, whose prayer for her husband's life you denied, and added insult to your denial I You may quake and stare at me I It is as I have said. Your punishment has slumbered long, but it is upon you now. The man whom you have married assailed me-an unprotected, sorrowing woman-with his infamous gallantries, and your jealousy at hearing that he had been seen with me fanned your dislike into fury. Your father's tool-as your father was yours-was that disgrace to mankind, Sancroft. Between you, you thrust an innocent, dying man into a prison, from which death, more merciful than any of your band, released him. Have I forgotten you or your accomplice? Have you heard nothing of the pending investigation of his later knaveries, which will blast his character forever, if it does not consign him to a felon's cell-? Are you aware, that even had your husband never com- N E M E 8 I s. 479 mitted this forgery, he could not have escaped similar disgrace? Instigated by his evil spirit, William Sancroft, he purloined from Colonel Rasheigh's lawyer the papers that would have convicted his friend's father. And H-mind you I followed him up, until the evidence establishing his: guilt was obtained. He has virtually confessed the deed, but it was superfluous testimony. This is the solution of his shyness in my company-the downcast eyes and sullen shamefacedness that have troubled and angered you. Are you jealous now of my influence over him? Your own is not greater!" Eleanor had caught the back of a chair, and leaned her face upon it; ;her breath coming in sharp, loud gasps, like the suffo- cating sobs of one drowning. "I have been patient-very patient I a patience that has stolen away my health and youth, made me' old, while yet in my prime. But I knew that it would comer-the day and hour of the avenging angel I Is it still your wish that I should be your intercessor with your uncle?" No answer except the hysterical gasping. "He has been the unconscious instrument in the grasp of Fate. In what he has done in providing for my child and myself, and in removing to this country, he was unmoved by any know- ledge of Bessy Hale's wrongs, or her oath of vengeance. He never knew that Mark Hale died in prison, as truly by your hands as if you had stabbed him to the heart. It is not to his pity that I owe my position, nor his sense of justice that has accomplished your humiliation. No I it was Destiny, and it is victorious " When, after a prolonged stillness, Eleanor raised her head, the short winter's afternoon was darkening into night, and she was alone. page: 480-481[View Page 480-481] 480 N E M ES I S. CHAPTER XXXTV. THE theatre was a blaze of light, and crowded from pit to roof. Never had a more brilliant assemblage been gathered within its walls. It was the carnival of the volatile, pleasure- loving South, and the leaders in its gaieties, the young, the beautiful, and the opulent; the l1ite of the capital's fashion and intelligence were here, to offer an ovation to a favorite actor. In whatever direction the eye moved, it was greeted by gay colors, flashing jewels, and brighter smiles, and the joyous hum that arose from the throng was like the distant sound of laughing, leaping waters. , Conspicuous among-the many beauties that adorned the boxes, was Katherine Rasheigh. Over an India shawl she wore an ermine tippet, and both having been thrown back, on account of thne warmth of the house, the white fur circled plump shoulders, that were not shamed by its purity. Her head was covered by a white satin hat, with plumes, its wide, round brim permitting a fair view of her face, over which the dimples and blushes were coming and going in enchanting succession. Her attire, with its warm, bright hues, all so becoming to her style of beauty, was set off by contrast with the dress of her friend, Miss Wickham, who sat by her. She was a gentle-loolk- ing girl, whose choice of tints evinced her modest taste and an appreciation of what best suited her pensive loveliness. Her hat ,and feathers were mouse-color, the former lined with pink satin, and tied under her chin with pink ribbons. Her Ucloak and furs NEMESIS. 481 just matched the hat in shade, as did also her dress of delicately- fine cambric, a material much in vogue at that date. At the back of the seat, stood her betrothed lover, Lieutenant Calvert, whose low-toned conversation brought up a happy glow to her transparent skin, almost as vivid as the carmine of Miss Rash- leigh's complexion. Katherine's impulsive temperament was quickened to exhilara- -tion by the splendor of the scene and the billowy murmur. She could have clapped her hands and screamed in childish abandon of delight, and since she must curb this madcap inclination, she talked fast arid merrily with the admirers who pressed into Mr. Wickham's box, to crave an introduction to the new star. The Colonel was in his glory, and in the plenitude of his complacency, he made it a point of conscience and politeness to address some sonorous platitude to each fresh comer, who swelled his daugh- ter's train. "A gay scene, sir!" he informed one. "I was not prepared for such an array of beauty in a provincial town." "There are some re-mar-ka-bly handsome ladies here to-night," he observed to another-while to a third, he imparted, semi-con- fidentially, his opinion that. the governor of the commonwealth, who occupied a neighboring box, was a a- man of distinguished bearing-evidently one of nature's noblemen." While the performers were upon the stage, his attention was courteously critical-for had he not seen, Garrick--' a most extraordinary man and actor 1" as he enlightened every one near him, between the second and third-acts. Katherine was never ashamed -of her father. She rightly 'regarded his faults and idiosyncrasies as trifling blemishes upon a character wh6se: main traits were generous and admirable. From her mother and her native tact, she had learned to divert the current of his-ideas when it-set too decidedly in the direction of the ridiculous. -21 ) page: 482-483[View Page 482-483] 4832' NEMESIS. "See, papa i" she said, touching his elbow, as he stood up in the front of the box. "Is not that Cousin Robert in the upper tier-across the house?, The Colonel looked, as she directed, and saw his nephew seated between Sancroft and Woodson, neighbors whom Katherine had not observed when she spoke. The uncle frowned. "It is himself-certainly. Your mother decided very prudently to remain at home, I imagine. I am dis- pleased at Robert's public appearance with a " Katherine's warning finger reminded him where he was, and smothering his disapprobation, he bestowed one more severe glance upon the culprit, and gave his attention anew to the stage. Katherine scanned her cousin more particularly. She thought it strange that, when his wife had made his recovery the condi- tion of her coming out this evening, that he should be here with- out-her. tHis temporary sickness had worsted him surprisingly ; but, making allowances for this and the unfavorable effect of his disordered dress and unkempt hair, there was something about him which she could not understand. His face was red, in spite of its-,haggard lines, and she could see that he talked noisily, constantly interrupting himself and attracting the notice of those about him by bursts of laughter. His companions were more quiet, and from Sancroft's gesture, she imagined that he several timesz pointed out her father to his boisterous comrade, with injunctions to more decorous behavior. She was glad to turn from the contemplation of the trio, to the well-bred group suir- rounding her, and forget that th6re were such existing evils as wine-bibbing and bad company. The play was heartily applauded-not merely for the merits of thedvarious performers-still'less for its intrinsic interest, but it had :been translated from the French by a Richmond citizen, and -there was a universal desire to encourage and reward a home NEME S IS. 483. production. It was followed by two comic songs and two dances, the latter by Miss Placide, whose modest and agile performance was extravagantly admired by the gentlemen portion of tAh- spectators. "To which will be added (for the first time-here), the favorite New Pantomime of Raymond and Agnes, or the Bleeding Nun," read Katherine from the play-bill. "Oh, delightful 1" "Do you like pantomime P" asked Lieutenant Calvert. "Very much. You speak as if you did not." "I like what I can understand of it ; but unless the actors are superlatively good, so much of it is unintelligible that I lose-the connection, and, of course, all interest in the piece." "You cannot well lose your way here," observed Miss Wick- ham. "The explanatory abstract of the legend is really amus- ing in its exactness. Hear! The mother of Agnes, the late countess, portrayed- in the habit-of a nun. The Count enters, viewing the picture with agitation. Kneels to implore forgiveness for the murder " "I think -we-might have been trusted to discover the 'agita- tion ' for ourselves," returned Katherine. "The Count mist be a poor actor, or we very dull observers, if we could not perceive that he was moved at sight of the picture." "What a hypercritical set you are 1" interposed Mr. Wickham, "You forget that to: those who are unfamiliar with the legend upon which this dumb show is founded, the copious sketch here given will be invaluable. For myself, I confess, that with Lieute- nant Calvert, I need a guide-board at every turn of a performance like this. Agitation on the stage, and off it, are two things- sometimes not even cousins-german. If the Count, in entering should strike his gouty toe, or pinch his fingers in the door,liis contortions, as his eye rolled accidentally toward the pict:re, would be comically like the workings of the remorse which iewill betray at sight of the murdered woman's likeness." page: 484-485[View Page 484-485] 484 sr M ES s. Colonel Rasheigh, unable to understand the flow of spirits that led to so many words over a matter of no moment whatever, was poring through his spectacles, in search of the point of criticism in the playbill, when the curtain arose, " discovering Raymond at his studies," and the eyes of all were riveted, in perplexity or interest upon the stage. "Well?" said Katherine, smiling inquiry at Mr. Wickham, at 4the close of the first act. "Oh, I kept up pretty well, considering the celerity with, which the thing was hurried through. I had hardly time to glance at my bill for a notice of one tableau, before another took its place." CA There were several marked incongruities in the scenes," objected Colonel Rasheigh, not unwilling to show that his per- ceptive faculties had kept pace with the speed that had baffled his friend. "I have never made a personal examination of the interior of a robbers ' hovel,' but it is my impression that they are not, as a usual thing, lighted by chandeliers." "Was there a chandelier in Baptist's hovel?" asked Mr. Wickham, much diverted, as were the rest, by this unlooked-for descent to particulars from such a source. "There was, sir , a sconce with two branches. The inappro- priateness of the thing displeased me instantly." "A candle-end stuck into a gin-bottle would have been in better keeping," said Lieutenant Calvert. "Do not judge too hastily ; he was a robber, and without doubt, had stolen the unsuitable article," suggested Katherine. The young officer laughed. "Really, Miss lasheigh, I hardly know which most to admire-your charity or your inge- nuity, in setting up this plea for poor Baptist's taste in furni- ture,"n A- crash of music from the orchestra notified them that the second act had commenced. The first scene was that over which N E MES I S. 485 the jesting criticism had begun-a chamber in the castle of Lin- denburg, the nun's portrait hanging against the rear wall. A man, habited like an old retainer of the castle, entered from the side. M He had not crossed to the front of the platform, when a fiery flake from above fell upon his head-another, and another-- and a second actor-the Raymond of the dumb show, rushed for, ward, and tossed his arms in frenzied gesticulation toward the spectators. Simultaneously with his appearance, was heard froind behind the curtain, the startling cry of "FIRE " The crowd arose as one man, and there was a movement-in the direction of the door. "False alarm I There is no danger P" shouted a strong voice above the confusion, and, "No danger I no danger 1" was caught up and repeated by many. Katherine's eye turned to the quarter from which the first voice came, and saw, across the house, the speaker, 'who con- tinued to vociferate the assurance of safety, and, at his side, just opposite to herself, Malcolm Argyle,- his eyes eagerly fixed upon the curtain, which had fallen at the alarm. In another second, he had precipitated himself over the low parapet of the -boxes, into the pit; and, as a bright stream of light flashed through the painted screen, the cry of "Fire!" rang out again, echoed now by groans and shrieks, that told the mad fear which seized upon every soul at the certainty of the calamity. Malcolm had dashed through the crowd in. the pit-all, beside himself rushing to the door--and scaled a pillar into the box where stood the Rasheighs, terrified, yet willing to listen- to reason, while Mr. Wickham reiterated that the best chance of safety lay in presence of mind, and a steady, yet hasty progress toward the lobby. "The pit 1" said Malcolm, imperatively. "Lower the ladies, and then leap yourselves into the pit 1I We can reach -the outer door before the crowd from the stairs blocks it up. NSpow--now 1" page: 486-487[View Page 486-487] 486. NEMESIS. He laid hold of Katherine's arm, and she felt in his iron grasp how awful was his sense of their peril. "I think, sir'--began Mr. Wickham. "It is no time too think. I have thought!" said Malcolm, vehemently. "Katherine, will youlet me " A wilder cry of alarm, as the forked tongues of flame, with lightning velocity, ran along the ceiling, curled and spouted, and -rrapped themselves over the light boards that pannelled the front of the boxes. "There is but one way now 1" and, throwing his arm about Katherine's waist, Malcolm plunged into the living current that surged impetuously into the narrow, tortuous stairs and lobbies. Lieutenant Calvert caught up the fainting form of his betrothed and followed, while the two elderly gentlemen, breast to breast, fought bravely to win a path from death. Still, pressing as they thought the emergency, they miscalculated the swiftness of the triumphant element. The piercing shrieks of the hapless crea- tures who were in the hindermost ranks, testified -that they were already in its scorching embrace, when the dazzling, furious glow grew suddenly dull, and a column of pitchy smoke rolled along the roof, filled the dome, and, extinguishing every light in its downward swoop, fell-a black-winged Death-upon the strug- gling mass of human beings. Screams and moans were stifled-- stilled I All that was left of vital fire, within the inner walls, went out in one agonized respiration, as the victims entered the poisonous cloud-hot, reeking with oily vapors-as it were, a breath from Gehenna itself I In the lobbies, and upon the staircases, the frantic struggle for life went on in utter darkness; behind, the roaring, surging flame; before them, an impenetrable wall and a staircase, piled higher and higher with the bodies of living and dead. Over these, rushed on the trampling, wrestling crowd. Strong men climbed upon the shoulders, and walked upon the heads of the compacted N EME SI. 4s8 throng that still kept their feet; women were crushed to death in the press; children trodden to pieces. Yet, the ties of Nature were mighty. Husbands upbore wives with superhuman strength; mothers held their offspring so tightly enclasped, that the tremendous force of the outward tide could not tear them away, and fathers, with arms of stone and thews of 'steel, lifted their sons above the pressure of shoulders and heads. Katherine had spoken but once in the dreadful transit: "My father!" "Is an able-bodied man ; you, a feeble woman 1" He had no more breath to spare, even to console her. When the cloud of smoke fell, they were still some paces from the stair- case, and, at the inhalation of the noisome vapor, Malcolm felt his stout heart give way. Casting his eyes up in the darkness, he descried the faint glimmer of the sky through a window. Summoning all the muscular energy that remained to him, he threw himself against the lower sash. It fell outward, and the pure air of heaven pouring in through the opening, brought back departing life and hope to many beside himself. A cry of mingled joy and anguish went up from 'the sufferers, and there was an instant rush in the direction of the casement. "Trust me 1 said Malcolm. "Your safety is dearer to me than my life!" Katherine felt herself raised in his arms as he spoke; the cold wind blew more freshy over her, and, realizing with a shudder what was his desperate resort, she shut her eyes as he swung her clear of the building and let her go. A pair of stout arms broke her fall. All- safe, missis I Bless the Lord " said a tall negro, whose giants frame had not staggered under her descending weight. 1 "Gilbert--Gilbett Hunt!" called out a voice om an upper window. page: 488-489[View Page 488-489] 488 N E M E s I S. The man hallooed in reply, and hastened to obey the summons.- Katherine gazed with clasped hands and dilated eyes upon the casement from which she had been lowered. By the light of the flames now bursting through the roof, she saw Malcolm maintain his stand within against the crazed creatures swarming over him; saw him lower one and another quickly, gently, as he had done her; heard their exclamations- of thanksgiving to him and to Heaven, as each reached the ground in safety. From windows, above and below, forms were falling-some headlong and shriek- ing-some prone and unresisting-some with clothes on fire, and within that funeral pyre were her father and her lover, while she must stand inactive-see all-hear all-and not stir to save either I A fiercer, more agonized yell came from the imprisoned wretches-marking, as she afterward knew, the sinking of the staircase under its accumulated load; and, forgetting the self- command she had until now so rigorously preserved, she cried aloud: "Malcolm--Malcolm! Oh, come to me 1" He heard--sent one hasty, troubled glance over the horrified faces flocking about the inside of the window, extricated himself from clinging hands and crowding forms, and--was upon the earth beside her I "My darling I you are saved 1 Thank God!" He asked not whether he had the right. For one rapturous instant he held her to his heart, as the fervent ejaculation passed his lips-for one second, her arm was about his neck and her head upon his breast; then she started up. "My father I Oh, where is he?" "I waited for him as long as I dared. I trust he has escaped by the door. It is not safe to stand here. See!" The licking flames, now blent into one vast, quivering, swaying pyramid, arose toward the strangely serene heavens. The un- NEME SIS. I Sff equal conflict was at- an end. There was no more sound- of mortal woe within those trembling walls. The Fire-Fiend held high carousal where, one short quarter of an hour before, peace and pleasure and joy--the enjoyment that "takes no thought for the morrow "-had reigned supreme. Eleanor Moreau still lay upon the bed in the lethargic stupor that had succeeded to the tempest of warring passions, unheed- ing the tumult that arose, with increasing din, without; the hoarse cries and trampling of hurrying feet; the discordant clangor of the) alarm-bells or the ruddy reflection from the distant fire upon the white wall opposite her bed, although her eyes were open, and rested upon the sanguinary tinge. She scarcely heard the loud knocking at her door, until her name was called again and again, "Mrs. Moreau I Mrs. Moreau \" Reeling with weakness and giddiness, she drew back the bolt. A lady, a fellow boarder in the house, stood in the passage. Her blenched face and trembling articulation awoke in Eleanor, a feeling akin to impatience. "What do you want? I do not understand you 1" she said, almost rudely. Another effortt and the words came out. "The theatre is burned down I Where is your husband?" "I do not know 1 Why do you ask?" replied Eleanor, put- ting her hand to her head. "Because we fear that he was there!" The vacant stare told her that the mind did not receive her meaning arid the lady added -"Will you come to Mrs. Rash- leigh's room? We may learn some particulars of the fire, from your brother." 2 * page: 490-491[View Page 490-491] "O NE ME s IS. Eleanor followed her to the sitting-room. Mrs. Rasheigh was extended upon the sofa, just recovering from a swoon.; Malcolm supported her, his hands swollen and blackened--his hair scorched. Eleanor noted these circum. stances with dull surprise. Katherine knelt before her mother, and chafed her hands, unmindful of her own need of attention, for her dress was torn and dabbled with blood-not her own- her :shoes were gone, and her hair in tangled confusion. !' What has happened? Where is Colonel Rasheigh? Where is Robert?" demanded the bewildered wife, her clouded intelli- gence gathering the idea of some horrible catastrophe. Mrs. Holt tried to draw her away, but Mrs. Rasheigh had seen and heard her. Raising herself to her feet, she put her hands together and looked-upward-the reluctant homage of a foiled ambition to the Power that had dashed it to the ground-- "VENGEANCE IS MNE--I WILL REPAY, SAITH THE LORD I and she fell forward in another and more deadly faint. As NEMESIS. 491 CIA PTER XXXV. OVER quaint and dear old Ben Lomond, the home of Malcolm and Katherine, there hung for years, one cloud; there moved in the household band one figure, that was a continual reminder to the husband and wife of 'a dark and terrible story-a tragedy, known in all its details, only to themselves. They never spoke of it, except in their most secret :conferences, yet both knew that it was never forgotten, for an instant, while that pallid, woe-stricken woman sat in her arm-chair, beside the winter fire, or, in summer, in the airy colonnade overlooking the site of the Hale's cottage. She was always habited in deep black, always taciturn and un- smiling "in a melancholy," said the neighbors, and from Mrs. Holt, the only member of the family who could be induced to converse upon the one great event of her life-the burning of the Richmond theatre, they learned enough to beget in them com- passion, unmingled with wonder, for the widowed mother of Ben Lomond's mistress. is- The ci-devast governess was never more solemnly important than when a knot of curious listeners collected in her room, and- having shut the door, begged her to recount the particulars of that direful night, that plunged hundreds of families into mourn- ing. For fifty, years, save one,.,have the fervent tones of prayer and the sweet melody of holy song, floated through the outer court of the monumental temple, where are inurned the ashes of the -noble and the brave, the lovely, and the beloved, who fell upon that page: 492-493[View Page 492-493] "2 N E E S I S. Nox Ira in the annals of Virginia's fair Capitol. But the fatal spot is haunted yet. The stranger's foot loiters beside the simple and time-stained tomb, while he reads the record of the slain, and a troop of horrified, struggling, despairing phantoms seems to encircle him, as he lingers over the list ; the bright, calm day is changed into the lurid illumination of the Death Festival, and heart-sick and shuddering, he turns away. The Commonwealth still mourns the ornaments of her high places, and in many, many homes, the date of that Christmas merrymaking is marked by a cross of blood ; is never named but in whispers, with pale lips and aching hearts. One wet August afternoon, Mrs. Holt rehearsed the dismal story, to five or six young girls, visitors at the hospitable home- stead. They clustered closely about her ; sitting upon stools and the floor-some in the laps of others, for the narrator's tones were mysteriously low, and with the horror inspired by the tale, came the disposition to keep near together. "What a mercy it was that you did not go, Mrs. Holt!" said. one. "You are quite correct, my dear. Yet I am surprised in the retrospect, that I chose a quiet, intellectual conversation with Mrs. Wickham, instead of the entertainment of the play-house. I thought then, that my decision grew out of my contempt for the stamp of the performances for that evening. Of the legiti- mate drama, I was always an enthusiastic admirer. But I have since reflected, with reverence and gratitude, that my action was rather an illustration of the truth, so beautifully expressed by the great poet- "There's a divinity that shapes our ends Rough-hew them as we may." "Was it ever known how the house took fire?" "Never definitely. The most probable story was that it was N EME SI S. 493 communicated to one of the painted scenes by the lifting of a chandelier, which by some unaccountable oversight, was not ex- tinguished. when it was raised out of the way." "And when you and Mrs. Wickham heard ithe alarm, and where the fire was, you ran down to the theatre?" prompted an auditor, who had heard the recital before. "We did-without a moment's delay, or bonnet or cloak--cold though the night was. I shall never forget Mrs. Wickham's scream, when we caught sight of the building-the fire bursting through the roof, and the wailing forms that filled the windows. The fire seemed even then, feeding upon them. The first person Mrs. Wickham recognized was a negro-man, who stood under one of the windows, catching the poor women who were dropped into his arms by a gentleman in the upper story. "O, Gilbert 1' she cried. 'Have you seen my daughter?' 'No, madam,' he said, mournfully; and then the gentleman called-' Here is one more I' and lowered a large female, under whose fall, the man himself went to the ground." "Was he hurt?" "I learned, subsequently, that he was not, and that he saved the life of the gentleman also, a physician of -the city, who was lamed by entangling his foot in a projecting hinge, as he leaped out. The brave black rescued him, as the walls were tottering, and bore him away in his arms. In one minute more the building fell to the ground."* "But I saw nothing of this, for I followed the unhappy mother, as she ran into the crowd, seeking her husband and her 'child. She found Mr. Wickham contending violently with the humane friends who would not let -him rush back into the house to look * This incident is literally true, as indeed are all the particulars of the conflagration and the escape of the sufferers. Gilbert Hunt still (in 1860,) plies his trade, which is that of a blacksmith, in Richmond; Virginia. page: 494-495[View Page 494-495] "4 . NEMESIS. for his daughter. She had been close behind him, and supported by her betrothed, near the head of the staircase, and then descended the dense suffocating smoke that killed more than the flame did, and it was supposed that they all went down together -Colonel Rasheigh, and the ill-fated lovers-to rise no more. 'They were lovely, and pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided.' "And Mr. Wickham--how did he escape?" "He fell, providentially, against a partition, with his mouth close to a crack, and the stream of air from without, revived him so-far that he was able to roll himself down the stairs. While he was striving with those who held him, there came a crash and a fearful cry, and it was announced that the staircase had broken down, thus cutting off all hope of escape except through the windows. From these, the miserable sufferers continued to fall for a few minutes more, and then all was over. Men and women, yornag and old were, FIn one red burial blent.' Their dust returned- to the earth, and their spirits to God who gave them." After an awed silence, another spoke. "Where were Mr. and Mrs. Argyle, when you found them?" "At the door; there was but one to pit and boxes I Hence, the terrible loss of life. Mr., Argyle had just returned from travelling in the South, and knew nothing of Miss Rasheigh's being in the city, until he saw her across the theatre, soon after he entered the house, while she did not notice him before the alarm of ' fire' was raised. Then, with the courage and presence of mind for which he is distinguished, he leaped into the pit, and hurrying over to her, besought her to do the same. There was no time- to explain what was afterward made but too evident; NEME S I 8. 495 namely, that, if those in the lower tier of boxes had jumped into the pit, they could have gained the common entrance-door in a shorter time than by the staircase, and also left more room for those whose seats were higher up. The pit was cleared very quickly, and not one of its occupants was lost. Mr. Wickham never ceased to deplore his resistance to Mr. Argyle's proposal, which would,; humanly-speaking, have saved the lives of the whole party. But Mr. Argyle was personally unknown to him, and none of them suspected the magnitude of the peril. While Colonel Rasheigh and Mr. Wickham withheld the ladies and deprecated the precipitancy of the multitude, the fire caught the drop-curtain and the boxes, and but a single chance of life remained to him. Mrs. Argyle once told me, that it seemed to her that hours were spent in their passage to the window from which Mr. Argyle let her down, yet it was scarcely ten minutes from the time the alarm was given, and the rescue of the last living creature from the burning building. So true is it, that in the midst of life we are in death.'" ... How did Mr. Morean perish?" was asked, after another pause. "It was never known. There-were two other gentlemen from this county with him. ' One of them, Mr. Woodson, leaped- from a high window-for they sat in the third tier--and had his leg fractured by the concussion. He is still living, a hopeless cripple, in or near Richmond. Sir. Sancroft, who was a very agile man, attempted to make his way over the heads of the throng, but while so doing, was precipitated down the- staircase -when it' fell, and finally drawn out of the mass of prostrate bodies, by a fireman. His internal bruises were so serious, that he did not, survive his hurt above a week. Neither of these gentlemen had any recollection of seeing Mr. Moreau after they left the bench on which they had been sitting together. It was an hour that ' tried men's souls,' and the ' first law of Nature,' was the one most regarded." page: 496-497[View Page 496-497] "6 N E M E S S . "We were still looking and inquiring for Colonel Rasheigh, when Mrs. Rasheigh appeared. She was an extremely delicate woman, yet she had run every step of the way, from her board- ing-house to the theatre--fully a quarter of a mile.. Her cry, as her daughter spoke to her, is ringing in my ears now, and she sank senseless in her arms. We took her back to the tavern, and there remained the sad duty of telling Mrs. Moreau of her husband's probable fate. She could not, or would not believe it until days had gone by. She appeared to be completely stunned by the stroke d "Mrs. Rasheigh's mind received a slight shock-did it not?" was the cautiously-worded query that veiled intense curiosity. "I fear so I She was never a demonstrative or talkative person, and I had no conception of the depth of her devotion to her husband and child, prior to this lamentable -event. We despaired of her reason, for weeks after we returned- home. But she was adjudged capable of administering upon her husband's estate. One of the first uses she made of her restored faculties was to dismiss a suit which Colonel Rasheigh had ordered to be instituted against the father of Mr. Sancroft, the unhappy young man of whom I spoke just now. She sent for the old gentleman, and had a long, private conference with him, and then instructed her lawyer to suspend the proceedings against him. He removed from thet county, shortly afterward.' It was as the literal, yet unsuspecting governess had stated. Without an effort to resume the functions of her office, the Nlemesis had submitted to her dethronement, and henceforth, no cloistered nun led a life of more rigorous seclusion-more gloomy self-abnegation. The possessor of a handsome fortune, she lived as abstemiously as an anchorite. Her room in her daughter's house was furnished as simply as the master and mistress of the jmansion would allow, and her dress was devoid of any appear- ance of ornament. Her almsgivings were liberal to extrava- N asM E s I S. 497 gance, and bestowed as privately as possible. She never attended' public divine service, yet her daily drive, except when Malcolm prohibited it, because of very stormy weather, was- to. the hill behind the church, in which Mr. and Mrs. Argyle were now devout worshippers.. There she would sit for hours, at the foot of the lonely grave, Mark's Bible and her thoughts for her com- panions. Her affectionate children could not but hope that she was slowly feeling her way to light and truth, although they dared not invade the solitude of her communings with the Past, and with Him, who had overruled the wrathful purposes of His crea- ture, as He, in His inscrutable providence deemed best. Besides the reverse of her previous intentions in the case of Mr. Sancroft, she gave another and more signal proof of the revolution wrought in her feelings, by defraying all Mr. Moreau's just debts, and settling his estate, thus disencumbered, upon his children. Mrs. Moreau she never saw after the night that made them- both widows. Nor was the younger lady more inclined to the meeting. She, too, had undergone a great change.- Montrouge ceased to be the rendezvous of the gay youth of the vicinity. Its mistress' law, despotic as ever, ruled out all species of fashionable dissipa- tion, and the judicious expenditures and improvements of the plantation were controlled exclusively by herself. Her sons re- spected and obeyed the mother, whose strictness repressed any excessive outgoings of love they might otherwise have - felt for their only parent, and they bade fair, under her guardia nship, to grow up into upright, honorable men. One person, alone, of all who owned her sway, was ever indulged or spoiled by kindness. This was the " baby Nelly," who had been the father's darling. Did he lo6k up through those innocent eyes into the stern mother's face? Was there, in her infantine coaxings, any tone- that reminded her of his last plaintive words, as she drove him from her into his fiery grave? The Searcher of hearts only knew I r w page: 498-499[View Page 498-499] "8 NEM ESIS. It was certain that she never uttered his name; it was as certain that she never forgot him. When a black-eyed daughter was given to Katherine's arms, she wished to name it "Bessy;" but -her mother positively, yet quietly forbade it, and the father called it by the pet title he had restored, since their marriage, to his lost and found playmate. Three years later, little "Kitty " was made supremely happy by the present of a baby-brother. All other rejoicings than hers were subdued by the shadow lengthening over the household- the approaching dissolution of Mrs. Rasheigh. Her decline was gradual, and seemingly peaceful as painless. The day before she died, Miss Barbara, still hale in her useful old age, brought the boy-heir in her arms to his grandmother's bedside, and presented a petition from his mother, that she would ratify the name which had been bestowed upon him. A sweet smile lighted up the wasted features. "Lay him here i" she said, stretching out her arm upon the pillow. Miss Barbara complied, and the dying eyes looked steadfastly upon the infant, whose mystery of life was beginning as hers -ended. Then, laying her other hand upon his head, -she said, solemnly, "The God of your grandfather bless you, Mark Hale!" and Miss Barbara added a tearful "Amen!" They buried her, as she had desired, beside her husband, and although her epitaph did not bespeak the same certainty of a Blessed rest as did his, there was in the hearts of her children and old friend, a sustaining hope that she was partaker with her beloved one, of the heavenly heritage; that the calm ray at evening-time," was a foretoken of light celestial and eternal. With reverent hands and many tears, Malcolm and Katherine examined the relics she had bequeathed, with everything else, to them. Over the worn trunk that had gone with her through all NE ESIS. 499 her changes of fortune and place, they lingered longest and most sadly. It contained Kitty's doll, manufactured by the father's hands, for her first Christmas-box; a full suit of his apparel, the dark-blue cloth free from moth and dust, the linen neatly folded; and underneath all, the sign once affixed, with such guileless pride, to-the cottage wall- MARK HALE, SHOEMAKER. THE END. page: 500-501 (Advertisement) [View Page 500-501 (Advertisement) ] DERY & ACKS 'S DERBY & JACKSON'S STANDARD BRITISH CLASSICS IN FIFTY VOLUMES, COMPRISING; BOSWELL'S JOHNSON, Four Volumes. ADDISON'S WORKS, Six Volumes. GOLDSMTH'S WORKS, Four Volumes. FIELDING'S WORKS, Four Volumes. SMOLLETT'S WORKS, Six Volumes STERNE'S WORKS, Two Volumes. DEAN SWIFTS WORKS, Six Volumes. JOHNSON'S WORKS, Two Volumes. DEFOE'S WORKS, Two Volumes. LAMB'S WORKS, Five VolumeS HAZLITT'S WORKS, Five Volumes LEIGH HUNT'S WORKS, Four Volumes. Pronounced the most valuable and handsome set of books ever intro- duced into the American market. Put up in two elegant cases, bound in half calf antique, or half calf gilt. Price $2 25 per volume, or, per set, $112 50. We also have the same works, bound in neat cloth, for $1 25 per volume; or sheep, library style for $1 50 per vol. ,* Either or all of the above will be sent by mailWpost-paid, on reoeipt of price. W H. TOwN, Prianer and SUltimer a & 64 Cesntso St . YT page: 502 (Advertisement) -503 (Advertisement) [View Page 502 (Advertisement) -503 (Advertisement) ] " Serbg latkou's ablitai . A most interesting Work, THE RIFLE, AXE, AND SADDLE-BAGS, A VOLUME OF LECTURIb BY REV. WILLIAM M4JT)RsY Mxx#1UBXTR1 One neat volume, 12mo. Price $1 Ut. CONTENTS (IN PART). THE SYMBOLS OF EARLY WESTERN CHARACTER. The Untamed Wilderness-Daniel Boone-The Female Captive---t'e Mysterious Shot-A Narrow Escape-A Backwoods Marriage-- Wdding Dinner and Dance'-Homes in the Wilderness-Justice in the Backwoods Preachers in the Wilderness-The Preaaher's Dormitory-Henry Beidel. man Bascom-'"Old Jimmy's "Reproofs-The Pioneer's Work. THE TRIUMPHS OF GENIUS OVER BLINDNESS. Beauty and Effects of Light-Eminent Blind Men-Remarkable Sense of Hearing-John Milton-Premonitions of Blindness-Blindness an Im- pediment to Oratory-Sympathy Necessary to the Speaker-The other Senses Quickened-The Blind Man's Need is his Gain--"I am Old and Blind." AN HOUR'S TALK ABOUT WOMAN. The Moral Greater than the Intellectual--John Howard the Philanthro* pist-Ancient and Modern Women-Frivolity a Prevailing Evil-Earnest- ness of Female Authors-Women the Best Literary Instructors-Woman's Responsibility-The Power of Sympathy-The Importance of Conversa- tion-Woman the True'Reformer. EARLY DISCOVERIES IN THE SOUTILWEST. Exploration of the Mississippi-Gold Unsuccessfully Sought-Collisions with the Indians-Attack upon the Chickasaws-Historical Traditions- Incidents of Forest Life-Dispersion of the Settlers- Anglo-Saxon -Sl premacy. Address, DERBY --& JACKSON, PP mTTIms, "9 NASSArU s RET, N. Y Eldba & Jackson's diiations. 45 d"To the list of John Milton and other -blind men eloquent,' must bo added the name of WXILIal UgNRY MiLLBURN.--London Athenaeum, AN AUT033XOGRAPSY 01F DEE!P INTEREST! For Sale &y Booksellers, Preachers, Colportewrs, and Book Agents generally. TEN YEARS OF PREACHER LIFE; OR, CHAPTERS FROM AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. BY WIILIA M- H ESITRY MXLBU7RJ N AUTHOR OF "THE RIFLE AXE, AND SADDLE-BAG8S. One neat 12mo. volume. Price, One Dollar. "There was a time when meadow, grove and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.- "ST OF THE CONTENTS (IN PART). Early Reminiscence. The Accident. Henry Clay. John 0i Calhoun. Danid The Sick Chamber. Surgical Consultation. Webster. Two Years' Imprisonment. Social Life in Washington. Land of the Setting Sun. Attractions of the Capital. t"There were Giants in: those days." Power of Memory. Influence of Women; The Backwoods Preacher. A Death-bed Summons. Marriage of .tht The Saddle-bags taken up. Author. Let no Man Despise thy Youth. Chicago in 1841, *846, and 1855. A Western Wedding. A Night Ride in a Deluge. Narrow Escape. A Western Camp-Meeting. The Dying Preacher. An Exhorter in a Dilemma. Grace in "( Spots." Life on Wheels. Liberality of Methodists. Life on the Mississippi. A-Boataoe. The Last Scene of Conference. Passengers excited. S. S. Prentiss. Walking the Hospital. Phelps the Desperado. Ridingthe Circuit. Cry Aloud and Spare not. A Sermon on Sojourn in New Orleans. Deck. Alabama Scenery. A Southern Home. Its unexpected Rewards. - Tribute to the South. Heavy Purse and Congressional Chaplain. Author Charged with Heresy. Necessities for Extempore Speaking. Stage Coach Dialogue. A Fearful Spectacle A Stump Speech Described. Strange uplerstition. The Aixious Moe Value of the Eye in an Orator. ment. Congress and two of its Young Men., Homage toLadies, Southern Hospitality. Congressional Eloquence. Southern Matron. Southern Literature. Stephen A. Douglas, Old Friends and Pleasant Faces. Alexander H. Stephens. The Pioneer Preacher. - Western Cookery. Entering'the Senate Chamber. A Night Scene in a Village-Store. Memories of the Great Departed. Indisposition of the Author.. Author's First Prayer in Congres. Returns to New York. Tho nfant' Cry.- e The above will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of pio e DIE19BY & JACKSSON, gPUOTTs HORS, "9 NASSAU ST., NE w YOu1. page: 504 (Advertisement) -505[View Page 504 (Advertisement) -505] A8 tga b acta h ns ablIttaifio. "Mi- Evans may well be called the Charlotte Bronte of America."-Z-Yro Wti. "We place BzlLHn beside 'John Halifax.' "--BaUtmore Adocate BEULnAH. 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"I have no hesitation in saying that few books have ever interested me more. The plot, the delineation of character, and the action, I think, are all admirable. It would be an extraordinary work from the hand of any woman, but it is peculiarly so from one so young. The reading of it cannot but do great good." From Frederic 8 Cozzens, author of the "Sparrowgrass Papers." "I have been greatly interested by this story of the Mobile heroine, and I am con vinced that the story will produce a sympathetic impression on the public mind. There is not a word in it, nor a phrase in it, that I have not meted and measured. Over and above the method of telling the story, the story itself wins, commands, controls the sympaties of the reader. This, I take it, is the highest test of excellence." From t7be Home Journal. "Since the appearance of ' Jane Eyre,' no volume has fallen from the pen of a lady writer evincing more power and learning than the novel ' Beulth,' and we do not hesi- tate to say that in the production of this volume, Miss Evans has achieved the highest rank aaong novelists of her sex in this country." From the Netew York Evening Post. "She has, at any rate, established a rank among the best novelists of her sex whom our country can boast, and we do not remember any work of fiction which has been produced in this country for years, which is written with more power and is more full of promise than 'Beulah.': She has achieved a decided literary success, a success which will at least be as cordially recognized at the North as at the South." From the Boston Poet. "'Beulah ' is a book of great merit, and one which will bear critical and close inspec- tion. * * * The volume is one deserving the attraction of the reading public. It Is healthy in sentiment, pure in its influences, and grand, in its treatment of grec oral qou ins/. As a literary work, 'Beulah' will rank with any issue of the day." *,* The above will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price W. H Tnmol, Printer and Stereotyper, 48 & 45 Centre St., N. Y: - ' ,
