LEAH MORDECAI. A NOVEL. 

BY MRS. BELLE KENDRICK ABBOTT. 

NEW YORK:

1856. 

TO MY BELOVED UNCLE, THE REV. J. RYLAND KENDRICK, D. D. , WHOSE HOSPITABLE HOME I ONCE SPENT MANY HAPPYDAYS--DAYS MADE FOR EVER BRIGHT BY THE LOVEOF HIS GREAT HEART, LOVE THAT FLOWED LIKEA PURE STREAM FROM A CRYSTAL FOUNTAIN, ABOUND AND ABOUT MY YOUNG LIFE--THIS BOOK IS MOST TENDERLY

INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. 

ATLANTA, GA, November, 1875. 

LEAH MORDECAI. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE giant clock on the wall in the assembly-room of Madam Truxton'sfashionable school had marked the hour for dismission. 

Groups of restless, anxious pupils stood about the apartment, orwere gathered at the windows, watching the rain that had beenfalling in copious showers since morning. All were eager to go, yetnone dared brave the storm. 

Under the stone archway of the entrance to the assembly-hall, agroup of four maidens stood chatting, apart from the rest, watchingthe rain, and impatient for its cessation. 

"I know my father will either send my brother, or come for mehimself, " said Helen Le Grande, "so I need not fear the rain. " Then, turning to the soft-eyed Jewess who stood by her side, she added, "When the carriage comes, Leah, you can take a seat with me. I'llsee that you are safely deposited at home. "

"Thank you, Helen, but it won't hurt me to walk. Nothing hurtsme--Leah Mordecai the despised. " Then, averting her face, the younggirl gazed abstractedly into the street, and began humming in a lowtone. 

To these words of the young Jewess there was no reply. A certainsort of emphasis in her utterance seemed to forbid any inquiry, andsilence any word of censure that might arise to the lips of hercompanions. 

"How mean of me, not to offer a seat in the carriage to LizzieHeartwell, too, " thought Helen after a moment's reflection; "but Idared not, on account of my brother, who has so repeatedly urged meto make equals only of the rich. He little knows how I love LizzieHeartwell, and whether she be rich or poor I know not, neither do Icare. "

"I say, girls, " at length broke the silence, as the fourth member ofthe group, Bertha Levy, a Jewess too, spoke out, "think how stupid Iam. Mamma has promised me a small tea-party to-morrow night, andthis wretched rain had well-nigh caused me to forget it; but, thankfortune, it's giving way a little, and maybe we shall all get homeafter awhile. I'm desperately hungry! Of course, you will allpromise me to come, and I shall expect you. " Then, turning to Helen, she said, "Won't you?"

Helen assented. 

"And you, Leah?"

"I will if I can. I am never sure of my movements, however. "

"And you, dear Lizzie?"

"With the permission of my uncle and aunt; at any rate, I thank youfor your kindness. "

"Well, I shall expect you every one, and--"

"There comes the carriage, " shouted Helen, as the liveried coach ofthe wealthy judge rolled round the corner, and drove up in front ofthe spacious school-building. "I knew my father would not forgetme--yes, there is my brother. "

The horses, thoroughly wet, looked dark and sleek as greyhounds, asthey stood impatiently stamping the paving-stones, while a visiblecloud of vapor rose from each distended nostril. 

The coach door opened, and Emile Le Grande, with handsome, manlyfigure clad in a gray military suit, and equally handsome face, stepped out, and approached the group so impatiently watching theprogress of the storm. 

"Good morning, Miss Mordecai; I am happy that we meet again, " saidthe gentleman, politely bowing. 

"Thank you, sir; but your presence rather surprises us, " repliedLeah. 

"I trust, though, I am not an unwelcome intruder upon this fairgroup?"

"Allow me to remind you, my brother, that my friends, Miss Heartwelland Miss Levy, are also present, " said Helen rather reproachfully. 

Emile acknowledged the reproof and the courtesy with an apology anda smile, and then added, "To Miss Mordecai's charms I owe the breachof politeness. "

Leah's face flushed crimson, and her eye sparkled more brightly thanever at these flattering words of the young cadet; but she made noreply. 

"Come, Helen, let's go, " at length said the brother. "The horses areimpatient. C‘sar is wet, and I guess you are tired, too. " Then, turning to Leah, he continued, "Miss Mordecai, will you honor uswith your company till we reach your father's house, where I pledgemyself to deposit you safely?"

"Oh! yes, Leah will go; I have already asked her, " said Helen. Then, after a moment's preparation, the two young friends stepped into thecarriage. 

"Good-by again, girls, " said Bertha Levy gayly, as the coach doorclosed; "riding is rather better than walking, such a day as this. Remember to-morrow night. " Then, with a dash, the carriage was outof sight. 

"Well, Lizzie, " resumed Bertha, smiling significantly, for she couldnot but observe Helen's manifest preference in offering Leah a seatwith her, "we need not stand here any longer. I see that the rain, out of consideration for us, is about to cease, and I don't thinkany coach is coming for me. Do you expect one?"

To this characteristic remark, Lizzie Heartwell replied smilingly, "I guess, Bertha, with umbrellas, overshoes, and care, we can reachhome without serious damage. "

"But care is not a coach, you know, my friend, no matter how we turnit, " said Bertha laughingly, as she donned the wrapping andovershoes. "I am as hungry as a wolf, and I fear mamma will let thatyoung brother of mine eat all my dinner, if I am too slow in gettingthere. Boys are perfect cormorants, anyhow. Come, let's go at once. "

The two girls stepped out into the slippery street, and turned theirfaces homeward. "I am glad, Lizzie, " continued Bertha, as theyturned corner after corner, "that our paths run together so far;having company is so much better than being alone this forlornafternoon. And remember, I desire to know the answer to myinvitation as early as possible. To-morrow is my brother Isaac'sconfirmation day, and we must all be promptly at the synagogue atnine o'clock. "

"You shall know to-night, Bertha, and I will be with you, ifpossible. But here, before we part, let's stop and buy some bananasof old Maum Cinda. She is always so grateful for a fivepence droppedby a school-girl. "

By this time the two girls were standing in front of the well-knownfruit-stall of the old blind colored woman known far and nearthrough the Queen City as "Maum Cinda. " For years, hers had been theimportant market for supplying the school-children with lusciousfruits, unimpeachable taffy, and ground-pea candy. 

"An' bless de Lord, is it Miss Lizzie?" said the good-natured woman, as the sound of Lizzie Heartwell's voice fell upon her ear in thekindly spoken salutation. 

"An' w'at will you have to-day, chile?"

"Some bananas, Maum Cinda--two for me, and two for my friend here, Miss Bertha Levy. "

"Oh! yes, Miss Bertha, " replied the woman, courtesying, "an' maybe Ihave seen Miss Bertha, but it's the sweet voice of Miss Lizzie thatthe old blind woman remembers"--handing the bananas across the wideboard that protected her tempting wares from public incursions. 

"You flatter me, Maum Cinda; but I hope the rainy day has notinterfered much with your trade. Here"--and extending her slenderwhite hand, Lizzie dropped the jingling pennies into the aged, wrinkled one that opened to receive them. 

"God bless you, chile. You neber forget His poor ones, de blind. Godbless you!"

"Good morning, Maum Cinda. "

"Good-by, young ladies, good-by. " And the last glimpse the tworeceding friends had of the old woman, she was still profoundlybowing and courtesying in acknowledgment of their remembrance. 

Then the friends parted for the day, each one taking the most directcourse to her home, and soon both were safely sheltered from thedrizzling rain and chilling wind. 

CHAPTER II. 

TWO pale lilies and two royal roses upon a stem, would scarcely forma more beautiful or striking group than did the four maidensstanding together under the stone archway of the school-room, onthat gloomy day at Madam Truxton's. 

The fair hair and blue eyes of Helen Le Grande and Lizzie Heartwelldistinctly contrasted with the jetty locks and eyes of Bertha Levyand Leah Mordecai--the beauty of neither style being in any degreemarred by such close contact. 

The blonde beauty of the first two maidens bespoke theirunmistakable Anglo-Norman blood and Christian descent, while theopposite cast of the others testified to their Jewish origin. 

A casual observer even, would have decided that these four maidenswere bound together by an unusual bond of friendship--an incongruousfriendship it might have seemed, and yet it was not such. 

Helen Le Grande, the eldest of the group by a few months, wasscarcely eighteen years of age, as bright and gay a maiden as onecould find in all the land, and the only daughter of Judge LeGrande, a lawyer of wealth and distinction. 

Of immediate French descent, Judge Le Grande possessed in an eminentdegree the peculiarities of his gay, volatile ancestry. Proud of hischildren, and ambitious for their future, in his lavish bounty hewithheld nothing he deemed necessary for their advancement in life. 

Thus at eighteen, Helen Le Grande looked out upon life's opening skyas thoughtlessly as she would look upon the bright waters of theblue harbor that stretched before her father's mansion, where skyand water blended in a peaceful, azure expanse, little heeding orcaring whether storms came, or sunshine rested on the deep. BerthaLevy, the little darked-eyed Jewess who stood by her side under thestone archway, was nothing more or less than a piquant littlemaiden, just turned seventeen, of amiable disposition andaffectionate heart, but by no means partial to study, and alwaysready to glean surreptitiously from her books, any scraps of thelesson that might be useful, either to herself or her friends, inthe ordeal of recitation. 

Bertha's mother was a widow, whose circumstances allowed herchildren all the comforts and even many luxuries of life. She hadreared them most rigidly in Hebrew faith. Lizzie GirardeauHeartwell, the next in the fair tableau, was the only member of thegroup who was not a native of the Queen City. It is no misstatementof fact to say that she was, indeed, the ruling spirit of MadamTruxton's entire school. 

Dr. Heartwell, Lizzie's father, had lived in a distant State, anddied when she was but a tender child. Her mother, a descendant ofthe Huguenots, was herself a native of the Queen City. But far awayfrom her native home had Mrs. Heartwell's married life been spent, and Lizzie's young days, too, had passed in their quiet uneventfulhome at Melrose. 

But at the age of fifteen, and three years prior to the opening ofthis story, under the kindly guardianship of her uncle, LizzieHeartwell entered the popular finishing school of Madam Truxton. 

Possessed of noble, heroic blood, and blessed with love thatinstilled into her young mind the principles of a brave, devotedancestry, it was but natural that Lizzie Heartwell should exhibit anunusual development of heart and mind at a very tender age, and giveearly promise of a braver, nobler womanhood, when Time should sethis seal upon her brow. 

Reluctantly the heart turns to read the half-written history in thesad face of Leah Mordecai, the fourth maiden standing picturedagainst the stone under the archway. She was of the unmistakableJewish type, possessing the contour of face, the lustrous eye, themassive crown of hair, that so often distinguish and beautify theHebrew maiden, wheresoever the sun may rise and set. 

In the sadness that rested upon this young girl's face, one mightdimly detect the half-extinguished flame of hope, that usuallyburns so brilliantly in the hearts of most young girls. But why thissadness no one could tell. Its cause was a mystery even to herfriends. Benjamin Mordecai was an opulent banker, who for many yearslived in solitary grandeur in his bachelor home. But in the processof time, he wedded the gentle Sarah David, and brought her to sharewith him his home and fortune. 

Love had led to this marriage, and peace and happiness for a time, like sweet angels, seemed to have come to dwell evermore within thehome. But time brought changes. After the lapse of a year and ahalf, the cherished Leah was born, and from that day the mother'shealth declined steadily for a twelvemonth, and then she was laid inthe grave. 

As the mother faded, the infant Leah thrived and flourished, fillingthe father's heart with anxious, tender love. 

Among the inmates of the Mordecai home from the time of Mrs. Mordecai's declining health, was a young woman, Rebecca Hartz, whoacted as house-keeper and general superintendent of domesticaffairs. She had been employed by Mr. Mordecai for this importantposition, not so much on account of her competency to fill it, as tobestow a charity upon her unfortunate father, who constantlybesought employment for his numerous children, among the morefavored of his people. 

Isaac Hartz was a butcher, whose slender income was readilyexhausted by a burdensome family. Rebecca, his daughter, was agood-looking young woman of twenty at the time she entered Mr. Mordecai's family. Although coarse and ill-bred, she was also shrewdand designing, often making pretence of friendship and affection togain her ends when in reality hatred and animosity were burning inher bosom. Such was Rebecca Hartz. Such the woman to usurp thehousehold government, when the gentle Mrs. Mordecai had passed away. 

CHAPTER III. 

IN Mrs. Levy's attractive drawing-room, Bertha's guests wereassembled for the tea-party. 

Lizzie Heartwell, the first to arrive, was ushered into the brightlylighted room, to find Mrs. Levy the only occupant. 

"I welcome you gladly, Miss Heartwell, " said Mrs. Levy, rising andtaking Lizzie by the hand. "I have long desired your acquaintance, knowing my daughter's friendship for you. Pray be seated. "

"I thank you, Mrs. Levy, " replied Lizzie, "I indeed esteem it anhonor to meet the mother of such a friend as Bertha. "

"My daughter will be present by and by. I regret that necessitycompels her non-appearance as yet. Sit nearer the fire. "

Lizzie drew closer to the glowing grate, and they continued apleasant conversation till Bertha appeared. 

"What a handsome woman!" thought Lizzie, as she occasionallysurveyed Mrs. Levy from head to foot during the tˆte-…-tˆte. 

And she was a handsome womam, dressed quietly but richly in blacksatin, her head adorned only by the clustering curls she had wornfrom her girlhood. There was little change even in theirarrangement, and only an occasional thread of silver here and therebespoke the touch of time. Her eyes were still beautiful, but theirlustre had been dimmed by the tears of her widowhood. 

Bertha bore the same cast of beauty that distinguished her mother, yet time's developing, modelling work for her was not yet completed. When the guests were duly assembled, Bertha approached her mother, who was still entertaining Lizzie, appearing quite fascinated withher daughter's friend, and said, "Mother, won't you release yourprisoner now? Helen Le Grande wishes her to join the group overthere by the window, in a game of euchre. "

"Certainly, my dear. I trust Miss Heartwell will pardon me if I havedetained her too long. "

"Come, Lizzie, come along, " said Bertha; and then added, in anundertone, "you know what I promised to show you, Lizzie. Come withme; let them make up the game without you. "

"Oh! yes, that album; show it to me, " said Lizzie, following Berthato a well-filled ‚tagŠre, from which she took a handsomely boundalbum, saying, "This is from Asher. Isn't it lovely?"

"Indeed it is, " replied Lizzie. 

"Mamma says I do not know who sent it to me, as there is no nameanywhere. She does not wish me to think it's from Asher, but I knowit is. It's just like him to do such nice things, " and, bending herhead closer to Lizzie, Bertha continued, "you see, Lizzie, I amawfully disappointed because mamma would not allow me to invite himhere to-night. I am just as vexed as I well can be. "

"Won't some of these other gentlemen answer in his stead?" askedLizzie, smiling. 

"Bosh! no; all of these, and forty more, are not equal to AsherBernhardt, in my estimation. I love Asher, I tell you, and I mean tomarry him, one of these days; do you hear me?"

"Marry! how you talk! A girl of your age presuming to say that youwill marry such and such a one, " said Lizzie, laughing. 

"Indeed! I consider myself woman enough to decide whom I like, better than any one else, whether you call that old enough to marry, or not. But let me tell you what mamma said to-day, when she caughtme kissing the album. 'Bertha Levy'--and oh! she looked so straightand solemn at me that I almost trembled--'Bertha Levy, are you goingto make yourself ridiculous about that strolling player, AsherBernhardt? Tell me. ' 'You know he plays the flute superbly, andthat's what I like. ' Then I said meekly:

"'I know that he loves me. '

"'You know nothing of that sort, and you are a very silly girl. Thisis the way you regard my teachings, is it, fancying strollingplayers at private theatricals? What! could you promise yourself tomarry such a man--a man whose chief recomendation is, that he canplay the flute?'

"'Happiness, ' I whispered. 

"'Wretchedness, you mean! Well, I forbid you ever thinking of himagain. I shall never, never, consent to such a thing, never while Iam your mother. Remember my words now!'

"Oh! Lizzie, wasn't that awful, mamma is so hard on him! I--"

"Bertha, Bertha!" called a voice from the opposite side of the room, which Bertha at once recognized as her mother's and immediatelyturned toward Mrs. Levy, leaving Lizzie standing alone. 

"For shame, my daughter!" said Mrs. Levy, in a low tone to Bertha, "to keep Miss Heartwell standing talking all the evening about yoursupposed present from Asher Bernhardt! I shall not allow you companyagain until you improve in politeness, and I will destroy thatcherished book. Do you hear me? Go at once and see that MissHeartwell is seated. "

Bertha bowed her head, in token of obedience, and as she turned backto join Lizzie, Leah Mordecai was approaching the piano, accompaniedby Emile Le Grande. 

Leah Mordecai was a superb singer, yet it was only at the request offriends that her soul flowed forth in song. On this evening hermusic was delicious, and Emile Le Grande, always fond of the divineart, was bewitched with the beauty of her voice. When her singingceased, the sadness still rested upon her face, and in Emile's heartthere was a new-born sensation--that of pleasure mingled with fear. 

The evening hours wore on. The hours that bore away the JewishSabbath were rolling in the Christian day of rest, and LizzieHeartwell, in obedience to her uncle's request not to "tarry at herpleasure too late, " was the first to separate from the happy band. 

An hour later, as the Citadel clock sounded the hour of midnight, Judge Le Grande's carriage rolled rapidly toward the mansion ofBenjamin Mordecai, bearing home his beautiful daughter, escorted byEmile Le Grande. 

This night, as Lizzie Heartwell was slowly disrobing for theremaining hours of slumber after her return home, she glanced intothe small mirror before her, and thought audibly--"Emile Le Grandeseemed quite charmed to-night with Leah; he hung around her like ashadow, and part of the evening he seemed moody and almostmiserable. How strange if he should fall in love with her! She's agrand girl. I don't think she could fancy Emile Le Grande. I wonderwhy Leah called herself 'the despised' yesterday. Well, we shallsee. "

Mrs. Levy's guests had departed, one by one, till the mother anddaughter were left alone in the deserted room. 

"Mamma, " Bertha said at length, shrugging her dainty figure, andgazing thoughtfully into the fire, "I do believe that Emile LeGrande is in love with Leah Mordecai, and she with him. "

"Be ashamed, Bertha, to think of such a thing! I believe you areinsane on the subject of love. Have you forgotten that she is aMordecai. "

"Oh! Love's love, mamma, Mordecai or not Mordecai! I think Emile LeGrande a fine fellow. "

"Would you be impudent, Bertha?" said her mother, eyeing hersharply. 

"Oh! not for the world, mamma. Do forgive me, if you think so, andlet us retire, for I have an awful task of study awaiting meto-morrow. "

CHAPTER IV. 

EMILE LE GRANDE'S DIARY. 

"SATURDAY night--by Jove! Sunday morning, I suppose I should writeit, to be strictly truthful. And I guess that orthodox people wouldroll their pious eyes, and declare that I had better be in bed atthis hour, instead of writing in my journal. But it makes nodifference. I do not know whether it's the seventh or the first daythat I should observe as a day of rest. One suits me as well as theother. So here goes for my journal. 

"November 29, Saturday night. Yes, I'll write Saturday night, forthe looks of the thing. Just returned from Bertha Levy'stea-party--went with my sister. Would not have gone but for the hopeof meeting Leah Mordecai. In the main, I hate Jews, but I must admithere, Journal, that Mrs. Levy is as elegant a woman as I have evermet; and Bertha, too, is a cunning creature, not beautiful and notmy fancy exactly, but withal a taking girl. 

"But of all the beautiful women that I have seen in years, Jewish orChristian, there's not one can compare with Leah Mordecai--such hairand such eyes are seldom given to woman. Helen says that her hairmeasures four feet in length! What a queenly poise to that eleganthead!

"But I swear there's a sadness about her face that I do notcomprehend. She certainly knows nothing of sorrow. It does not arisefrom want; for she, of all maidens in this Queen City, is farthestfrom that. Old Ben Mordecai has untold wealth, and there comes inthe 'marrow of the nut. ' Of course, he is as stingy as a Jew can be;but not with his daughter. Who has more elegant silks, velvets, anddiamonds than she? Rich! rich! Ha! what a glorious thing to be saidof one; but aside from old Mordecai's money, Leah is a superb woman;one need never be ashamed of such a wife. I should not be. 

"I must set myself to work to ascertain the trouble that must dwellin her heart so constantly to becloud her face. I'll bribe Helen tofind out for me. It may be some unfortunate love affair--who knows?I think I would like to put any fellow out of the way that might beseeking her hand. I believe I would kill him, if necessary. Perhaps, dear Journal, I should not have written that terrible monosyllable, but as you tell no tales, I'll let it stand. 

"Now, I must to bed, and sleep, if I can--sleep away some of thetedious hours that lie between me and another sight of the fairLeah. 

"Already the clock strikes two. "

"And Mark was not there to-night, as I had hoped and expected, "sighed Leah, as she stood before the elegant dressing-case of herbed-chamber, and laid aside the articles of her toilet, after therevel was done. "Only another disappointment! And yet, I know thatBertha invited him, and lie promised me to attend. I should not haveworn these ear-rings and this brooch, which were my mother's, had Iknown Mark would have been absent. Oh, my angel mother!"

A tear stole slowly down her face, and fell upon the shining pearlsthat she still clasped between her fingers. "Why did not the gravecover us both? Why was I left alone and so desolate in the world?Can it be that Mark has deceived me--Mark Abrams, the only friend inthe world that I implicitly trust? God only knows. I remember now, how he looked at my mother--what mockery to call that womanmother!--when I asked him if he would attend the tea-party. Iremember furthermore, that she followed him to the door after hebade us adieu; and what words she may have let slip there, Heavenonly knows! I have had a lurking suspicion for some time, that shewas planning to win Mark's love from me, and secure it for my sisterSarah. What if she should succeed. Oh! how wretched I should be! Ithas been a year, nearly, since Mark and I secretly pledged our love, and he promised then that we should be married soon after I finishedat Madam Truxton's. How fondly I have looked forward to that comingday! It has been the one single hope of my miserable life; and nowthat the time draws so near, is it possible that my dream mustvanish into nothingness? Must this heart taste the bitterness ofdeception, among its other sorrows? Miserable girl that I am! Surelysome evil star shone over the hour and place of my birth. But I'llhope on for the best, and still continue to look forward to thecoming day, when my life shall be separated from the wretched womanwho now so darkly overshadows my existence. I'll hope on, eventhough disappointment come at last. " The soliloquy ended, Leah laidaway the pearls in the velvet-lined case, and turned to slumber anddreams. 

Mark Abrams, the early friend and lover of Leah, was the oldest sonof a talented and highly-esteemed rabbi, who presided over the mostflourishing and wealthy Jewish congregation in the Queen City; andMark himself was highly esteemed, as a young man of unimpeachableintegrity and unusual brilliancy of intellect. 

CHAPTER V. 

MONDAY morning came again. The great bell in the cupola of MadamTruxton's seminary had sounded, and all the pupils, large and small, were gathered to join in the opening exercises. First, thebright-eyed little girls, in tidy aprons, with hair smoothed back inmodest braids, or safely gathered under the faithful comb; then, themore advanced scholars, each bearing the impress of healthful vigorand hopeful heart; and last, the big girls, or "finishing class, " asMadam Truxton significantly styled them--all were assembled once moreon this bright Monday morning, to begin the duties of another week, and share again the joys and sorrows of school life. It was a lovelysight, this assembled school; for where is the heart that does notsee with unspeakable pleasure the dawning beauty of innocent, careless maidenhood?

"Bertha, do you know the French lesson?" said Lizzie Heartwell, asthe class of young ladies was passing from the assembly hall toMadam Cond‚'s room. 

"Oh, just well enough, Lizzie, to keep me from a scolding, I guess. Here, won't you please hold the book open at aimer, so I can getthat muss a little straight, in case madam calls upon me toconjugate?"

Lizzie laughed. 

"Oh, pshaw! of course you won't. Lizzie Heartwell, you are tooconscientious; but Helen, you will, won't you?"

"Yes, if you will hold it open for me, too. I am not at all preparedin the lesson. "

"Here, Leah, " continued Bertha, laughing, and winking her roguisheyes at Lizzie, "how much do you know of the verb aimer?"

"More than I wish I did, " was the laconic reply of the beautifulJewess. 

"I suppose so, judging from what I saw on last Saturday evening. Buthere we are at the lion's den, and our levity had better subside. "

"Bon jour, madame!"

"Bon jour, mesdemoiselles. "

And the door was closed. 

At this same hour, in the large, hollow square fronting the CitadelTower in the upper part of the Queen City, many platoons of youngmen, dressed in the gray military suits of the cadets, weredrilling, drilling, drilling, according to custom, as a part oftheir daily school routine. 

A passer-by would have stopped for a moment, and watched withinterest this pleasing spectacle. The varied and intricateevolutions made by these gray-clad figures, as they expanded intobroad platoons, and then, as if by magic, fell again into groups oftwo, four, or six, was, to the unaccustomed beholder, a strange andattractive performance. 

The bristling bayonets shining in the bright morning sun, gaveevidence of the faithful care with with which their polish waspreserved. And these bright polished muskets spoke loudly too, tothe reflecting heart, of the wild work they might some dayaccomplish, when carried into the conflict by these same skilfulhands that now so peacefully upheld them--demon-work, that mightclothe a land and people in sackcloth and desolation!

The drilling was ended, the last evolution made, the halt commanded, and the order to disband spoken. 

Like a fragile piece of potter's work, the magic ranks broke apart, and each gun fell to the ground with a heavy "thud, " like an ironweight. 

"I say, George, I am deuced tired of this turning and twisting, andI'll be glad when the term ends, and I am set free from this place. "

"Well, I can't say that I will, Le Grande, " replied George Marshall, as handsome a cadet as wore the uniform, and one highly ambitiousfor promotion. "I came to this institute, because I was alwaysfascinated by military display, and I intend to make this mylifelong profession. "

"Whew! how tired I am! Well, you are welcome to it. As for me, it'sthe last life I should choose. I like the uniform very well, especially when I go where the girls are--they always give a cadet'ssuit a second glance--but as for the 'profession of arms, ' as youcall it, excuse me. "

"What! would you like, Le Grande, always to be playing lady's man?"

"Oh! yes; and that reminds me, George, that I have a new lady-love;she is at Madam Truxton's. To-day, at intermission, let's saunterdown to the seminary, and catch a glimpse of the girls. Maybe I'llsee her. "

"I can't; at intermission I must study my Legendre. Look at theclock now; it's late. "

"Bother the Legendre! you are the strangest fellow I ever saw--careno more for the girls than a 'cat does for holidays. ' Won't you go?"

"Not to-day, Le Grande. I am very busy. "

The clock struck nine, and George Marshall, with the other disbandedcadets, hurried to the duties of the day--to the hard task of studythat awaited them within the grim walls of the citadel. 

For a moment before turning to his books, George Marshall looked outof the window, far away to the blue, misty harbor. There he sawagain old Fort Defiance, standing grim, stern, and dark against themorning sky--the only object that marred the brightness of the blueheaven and the blue water, melting together in the distance. 

"How beautiful the harbor is to-day! And yet how sullen the fortlooks, " said the young cadet as he surveyed the scene. "I see theflag of my country floating, and all is peaceful and quiet in thewaters. Thank God for such a country! But I must hasten to myduties. "

CHAPTER VI. 

"LEAH, dear, what troubles you this morning? Your melancholy lookdistresses me. Is it any sorrow that you dare not unfold to yourloving

"LIZZIE?"

These lines Lizzie Heartwell slipped into the leaves of a book thatlay upon Leah's desk, while she was absent at a music recitation. 

By and by the bell sounded for the half hour's release from study. Then Leah stepped across the room, and gently taking Lizzie by thearm, said, "Come, let's walk. "

Lizzie put her arm around her friend, and the two girls walked outinto the court-yard, that formed a play-ground for the youngerscholars and a pleasant promenade for the older ones, and thenturned aside upon the brick walk that connected the kitchen andservants' hall with the main building. 

This brick walk, covered overhead by the piazza floor of the secondstory of the wing of the building, was securely protected in allkinds of weather. As Leah and Lizzie turned upon this promenade, Bertha Levy came skipping up to them with a merry bound, saying:

"Come girls, let's have a game of graces. Helen is willing. Here sheis. What do you say?"

"Excuse me this morning, Bertha, " Leah replied. "I do not feel well;my head aches, and perhaps I can walk it away!"

"Oh! yes, certainly; but you are as solemn as an owl, of late, Leah;what is the matter with you? Do you contemplate taking the veil? Ifso, is it the white or the black veil?"

"Our people never take the veil, Bertha. Do you forget?" repliedLeah reproachfully. 

"Forgive me, dear, I meant no harm. But I am in a hurry. DameTruxton will have that old bell sounded directly, and my game ofgraces not even begun. I wish the old thing was still in its nativeore, and not always ready to call us into trouble;" and so saying, Bertha skipped away, calling, "Here, Mag Lawton, Mary Pinckney, comeand play graces. "

For a moment Lizzie and Leah stood watching the group as it formed, and admiring the graceful movements of the hoops as they flew fromthe fairylike wands of the girls. "That game is well called, " saidLizzie, as Leah caught her arm again and said:

"Come, let's walk on. " Then, after a pause, she continued, "I foundyour note, Lizzie, and I am sorry that I have such a telltale face;but I am unhappy, Lizzie; yes, I am miserable, and I cannot concealit. I would not obtrude my sorrow upon others, but it is my face andnot my tongue that betrays me. "

"Do not think, Leah, I beg you, that I would seek to pry into thesecret of your heart, " responded Lizzie; "but I thought if you werein trouble, maybe I might in some way comfort you. "

"I thank you, dear, dear Lizzie, for your sympathy"--and a tear fellfrom the lustrous lashes of the Jewess; "I thank you again andagain, " she continued, "but nothing you can do can alleviate mysorrow. "

"Well, you can trust me for sympathy and love always, whether thatwill comfort you or not, Leah; be your trouble what it may. "

"Mine is no sudden grief, Lizzie; it is a long, sad story, one thatI have never felt at liberty to inflict upon any one's hearing, andyet, I have always found you so tender and so true, that when anyadditional sorrow comes to me my heart strangely turns to you forsympathy. I know not why. Can you tell me?"

"We always turn to those who love us, I think, in hours ofdarkness. "

"Yes, Lizzie, but there is a peculiar yearning, in my heart for you, at times. I imagine it's akin to the feeling I should have for mymother, were she living. With this feeling at my heart, I long tolook upon my mother's miniature which I once had, but which is nowin my step-mother's possession, and to gaze upon the face thatspeaks such love to me, though her voice has so long been silent. "

Lizzie, touched at Leah's pathetic words, turned and looked at herfriend with a tender glance, and said, "Trust me, Leah, for thatsympathy which you from some cause need, and unburden your achingheart to me, if you choose. "

"But, there! the bell is ringing and we must go, " said Leahabruptly. "Let's meet after school in the upper corridor, thatoverlooks the sea. I have something further to say to you. "

"If you wish, dear Leah; and it's but a short two hours tilldismission. Let's go. "

Cloaked and hooded, the school-girls were all ready for departureafter the three long, welcome strokes of the great clock; when Leahsaid, "It's growing chilly, Lizzie. Wrap your shawl closely aroundyou, for it's cold out on the corridor. Come, let's go out at therear door before it is locked. "

Ascending a spiral staircase, the two girls reached the uppercorridor that ran across the south side of the end wing of thebuilding. 

"Suppose Madam Truxton should come upon us, Lizzie, what would shethink?" said Leah, as the two girls crouched down closer together atthe end of the corridor. 

"Nothing wrong, I guess, as we have our books; and perhaps we hadbetter look over our French a minute. What do you say?"

"So we had, as it comes first in the morning, " and bending theirheads together the girls were silent for a time, pretending tostudy. At length Lizzie closed the book, and Leah began her story. LEAH'S STORY. 

"I shudder, Lizzie, when I think of unfolding the sad story of mylife to you; and yet, I am impelled to do so by this hunger forsympathy that is so constantly gnawing at my heart. As I have toldyou before, my heart strangely turns to you in sorrow. In the threeyears that I have known you, and we have seen each other daily, Ihave never known you guilty of a single act or word that wasunworthy--"

"Oh! Leah--"

"Do not interrupt me, Lizzie. You must hear my story now, though itshall be briefly told; and I have one request to make, my dear. Itis, that you have charity for my faults, and pity for me in my manytemptations. " She continued:

"As you have known before, my mother died when I was a very littlechild, scarcely three years old. I remember her but veryindistinctly. The woman who is now my father's wife, was hishousekeeper in my mother's life-time. She, of course, came from thecommon walks of life, her father being a very poor butcher. How sheever became my father's wife, I do not know; but my old nurse usedto intimate to me that it was by no honorable means. Be that as itmay, he married her when I was four years of age; and from that datemy miserable story begins. The first incident of my life after thissecond marriage which I remember most vividly was this. A year aftermy father's marriage to Rebecca, business of importance called himto England, and a long-cherished desire to see his aged parents tookhim to Bohemia, where they lived, after the business in Liverpoolwas transacted. How I fared while he was gone, I dimly remember; butwell enough, I suppose, as I was still partially under the care andcontrol of my faithful nurse, a colored woman of kind and tenderheart. 

"Poor, dear old woman, she is dead long ago!

"This visit of my father to his parents proved to be the last, asthey died a year or two afterward. Among my father's relatives inthe old country, was a cousin who lived in wealth and luxurysomewhere in Saxony. This cousin had been as a brother to him in hisyoung days, and on my father's return from Bohemia, he passedthrough Saxony and paid this cousin a visit; He still speaksoccasionally of that delightful event. I must not forget to tell youthat this cousin was a baron--Baron von Rosenberg. He was not born tothe title; it was conferred on him for some heroic act, thecircumstance of which I do not now remember, during an insurrection. 

"At parting with my father at the close of his visit, the Baron madehim many costly gifts; among others, one of an elegant pipe of rareand exquisite workmanship. How distinctly I recall it now! It was inthe shape of an elk's head, with spreading, delicately wroughtantlers. The eyes were formed of some kind of precious stones, andon the face of the elk were the Baron's initials inlaid in gold. 

"The stem, I remember well, was of ebony, richly ornamented withgold. I suppose it was a magnificent thing of its kind, and prizedbeyond measure by my father. He used it only on rare occasions, andfor the gratification of our guests. But at length an event occurredthat called forth the treasured pipe from its casket, never to bereturned. It was on the occasion of the third anniversary of myfather's marriage to Rebecca Hartz--an occasion that richly deservedsackcloth and ashes instead of feasting and merriment. But the daywas one of grand demonstration, and many guests and friends were inattendance. All the articles of value and luxury belonging to thefamily were brought into requisition, and among the number, thetreasured but ill-fated pipe. The guests ate, drank, and were merry, I suppose, till all were sated, and at a late and lonely hour theyleft my father's house deserted, with disorder reigning supreme inevery apartment. 

"'Forget not my elk's head, Rebecca, ' was my father's lastadmonition, as he retired to his bed-chamber, after the revel wasover. 

"But Rebecca did not heed his command, and being fatigued herself, hurriedly retired, saying, 'I'll wait till morning. '

"Morning came, and unfortunately for me, I was the first to awaken. Hastily dressing, I thought I would explore the scene of the latefestivity; and so I descended the stairs and entered the silent, deserted drawing-room. In a few moments, Rebecca herself entered thedrawing-room, but partially dressed and wrapped in a crimson shawl. She had come to remove the pipe. 

"'Why are you up so early, Leah?' she said confusedly, seeing that Iwas also in the room. And then, as she passed hurriedly around thetable where the pipe lay, the treacherous fringe of her shawl caughtin the delicate antlers of the elk's head and dragged it from itsplace upon the table. It fell to the floor with a crash, and we bothlooked down in dismay on the wreck at her feet. A footstep soundedin the hall at that moment, and fearing it was my father, Rebeccasaid boldly, and with gleaming eye:

"'What did you do that for, you wretched child?'

"'Do what?' I whispered, overawed. 

"'Deny it, if you dare, and I'll break every bone in your body, youlynx! What will your father say?' she continued. 'Pick up everypiece, and go and show it to him. Say you broke it, and ask hisforgiveness! Do you hear me?'

"I hesitated and trembled. 

"'Dare you disobey me?' she angrily exclaimed, with menacinggesture. 

"'I am afraid of my father, ' I whispered again, scarcely knowingwhether I really did the mischief or not. 

"'And well you may be, " she continued fearlessly, seeing that shewas gaining the mastery over me; 'but the sooner you seek hisforgiveness, the sooner you will obtain it. Go at once, I tell you. '

"Oh! pity me, Lizzie! pity me, for from that fatal moment, I havebeen the slave, the serf, of a stronger will--a will that haswithered and crushed out, by slow degrees, the last trace of moralcourage that might have beautified and strengthened my character;crushed it out, and left me a cowardly, miserable, helpless girl!But to return. 

"Involuntarily I stooped down, and began to pick up the pieces ofthe fragile horns, and the eyes of the elk's head, that layscattered around upon the soft carpet, really wondering if, indeed, I did break it. 

"'Now you have gathered up the pieces, go at once to your father;and mind you tell him you broke it. Do you hear me?'

"I glided out of the room, away from the presence of the woman whohad so cruelly imposed upon my helplessness. Trembling with fear, and a sense of my supposed guilt, I approached my father, who was bythis time comfortably seated in the family sitting-room, reading themorning paper. 

"I crept to him and held out the fragments. 

"'The d--l to pay! Who broke this?' he almost shouted in anger. 

"'I did, ' I murmured; and the rest of my story unspoken, my fatherstruck me a blow for the first and last time in his life. It sent mereeling against a table; the sharp corner struck my forehead and cuta terrible gash. Here, I will show it to you. It is plainly visible, and always will be. "

Leah lifted the glossy dark hair from her smooth pale forehead, anddisplayed the long, hard scar, that was so carefully concealed bythe ebon folds. "I always wear my hair combed to hide it. "

"Oh! Leah, Leah, " sighed Lizzie, "how dreadful!"

"At sight of the blood that flowed freely from the wound, my fathercaught me in his arms, and kissing my blood-stained face, exclaimedagain and again:

"'Fool, wretch, devil, that I am! Not for all the world would I haveshed a drop of this precious blood. I beg your forgiveness, mydarling--a thousand times, my child!' My cries, though suppressed, brought my mother to the room. With a well-assumed air of innocenceand tenderness, she sought to wipe away the blood from my face, andbind up the gash upon my forehead. I all the while abstractedlywondering if I really did break the pipe; such was my weakness, suchthe power that was over and around my young life, and is yet, evento this very hour. 

"My father gathered up the scattered fragments of the brokentreasure and cast them into the fire; and from that day to this, hehas never alluded in any manner to that occurrence. Always kind andtender to me, he seems to be ever endeavoring to atone for somewrong, and his long-continued silence assures me how vividly andregretfully he remembers his violence toward me. "

"Shocking!" ejaculated Lizzie with emotion. 

"Yes, it is shocking, dear Lizzie; for the horrible truth is everbefore me, and this hated scar is the seal of the first lie of mytender young life. I never comb my hair away from my face, somorbidly am I impressed with the fear that those who see it willread the cause of its existence. Oh! Lizzie, that falsehood, andthat cruel deception imposed upon a helpless child, were terribleindeed, too terrible to be borne. 

"But I must proceed. I have dwelt thus minutely upon this firstunhappy incident of my childhood, because it is a sort of guide-postto a long and dreary waste of years. It forms the headstone of mydeparted freedom, for, as I have said, in that evil moment when Iyielded to her wicked, imperious will, I lost all moral power, andto this day, am worse than her vassal. Try as I may, I cannot shakeoff the habit; it has become second nature, and her influence now isso withering that I dare not make resistance; and yet, I despisemyself for my weakness. Pity me, Lizzie, do not blame me! There's amoral want about me somewhere, Heaven knows, that no human agencycan supply. 

"My mother's assumed fondness for me led my father to believe thatshe loved me truly, and was tender and kind as she should be. Henever dreamed of her deception. And to this day, he knows nothing ofit, for I have never told him any of my trials and sorrows, sincethe day he struck me that undeserved blow. I love my fathertenderly, and yet I cannot, dare not, unfold to his blinded visionthe facts that have so long been concealed from him. No, Lizzie, Iwould rather suffer on as I must do, than darken his life by such adiscovery. 

"Thus you see something of how the years passed on. I, a helpless, ill-used orphan, growing older and and stronger day by day, and yetmorally weaker and weaker, with no will or power of resistance, tillI wonder sometimes that I am not an imbecile indeed. 

"I thank the great God for my school-days. They have been days ofpleasure and benefit to me. They have taken me from that home whereI withered as the dew withers before the glaring sun, and cast meamong pleasant friends, who seem to love me, and at least are trueand kind. True and kind! Dear Lizzie, you cannot comprehend thesignificance of that expression. To my starved, wretched heart, these words are the fulness of all speech. I comprehend theirmeaning, and regard them as I do the burning stars afar, shiningdimly upon a darkened world. 

"Yes; again I say, I thank the great God for these school-days, thatled me to know you, Lizzie--you, to whom my heart has learned to turnas a wounded, helpless bird would turn to its mother's shelteringwing for safety and protection. "

Touched by Leah's story, and her protestations of love, Lizzie bowedher head in her hands, and a few tears fell through the slenderfingers. Observing these tears, Leah bent forward and kissed themaway, saying, "These are the first tears I ever saw fall for me. "Then she continued:

"It is not necessary to dwell on the innumerable instances ofcruelty and wrong that have marked my life, from the period justmentioned, on to the present. It is enough to say that many eventsin my home-life have left their searing impress on my heart andbrain; and many, I thank God, have faded from my memory. But when Iwas fifteen, about the time you and I entered this seminary, anevent took place, that has deeply wounded my heart, and will leaveit sore forever. It was this:

"Very early on the morning of my fifteenth birthday, my father cameto my chamber and congratulated me with many kisses, giving me hisblessing. Then he said:

"'My daughter, I have here the miniature of your mother, takenbefore your birth. I had it set in diamonds then, for you, my child, little dreaming she would so soon be taken from us both. I have keptit securely locked away, waiting till you were old enough properlyto appreciate its value. Now to-day, on your fifteenth birth-day, Ihave called forth the treasure, and give it to you forever. Take it;keep it carefully, my child, for the sake of the living as well asthe dead. ' My father laid the miniature in my hand, and turned awaywith ill-disguised emotion. Softly, and with trembling hand, Iopened the casket that contained the treasure, and for the firsttime since her death, my eyes rested upon the dimly rememberedfeatures of my angel mother. 

"O Lizzie Heartwell! At the first glimpse of that sweet, buthalf-forgotten face, I fell, like a helpless thing that I was, tothe floor, prostrate with emotion. How long I remained thus overcomeby sorrow and weeping, I know not. I knew nothing till the oldfamiliar voice, harsh, cold, and cruel, fell upon my ear as the dooropened. 

"'Leah Mordecai, why are you lying there crying like a booby? What'sthe matter with you?' said my mother. 

"Involuntarily I hushed my sobs, dried my tears, and arose to myfeet. 

"'What have you there, baby?' she continued. 

"Without a word I handed her the casket, and as she regarded thesweet, mild face with cruel scorn, she said:

"'What's this you are blubbering over? Didn't you ever see apainted-faced doll before? Who gave you this?'

"'My father, ' I replied fearfully; 'and it's the picture of mymother, my own dear mother that's dead. '

"My reply seemed to enrage her, and she said, 'The diamonds arebeautiful, but I can't say as much for the face. I suppose youconsider that you have no mother now; from all this whimpering. Seehere, Leah, ' she added as a sudden thought seemed to strike her, 'You are too young to keep such a costly gift as this. I'll take it, and keep it myself till you have sense enough to know what diamondsare. '

"'Give it back to me, ' I said excitedly, daring to hold out mytrembling hand. 

"'Indeed I shall not, ' she angrily replied, pushing back theimportunate hand. 

"'Your father is a fool, to have given a child like you such avaluable thing as this. I'll see if he gives my Sarah this manydiamonds when she is but a child of fifteen. And now, mind you, LeahMordecai, ' she continued, with a triumphant smile upon her wickedface, 'if you dare tell your father I took this from you, you'llrepent it sorely. Mark my warning; say nothing about it unlessasked, and then say you gave it to me for safe keeping. ' She droppedthe casket into her dress pocket, and swept coldly out of the room. 

"The door closed behind her, and I was alone in my misery and mywrath. In my bitterness I cursed the woman who thus dared to crush ahelpless little worm beneath her wicked foot, and, falling on myface again, I implored the great God to let me die, to take me tothat mother whom I so deeply mourned. 

"It's growing chilly out here, Lizzie, " continued Leah after apause; "suppose we leave the corridor, and find shelter in the hallof the wing. We can sit in the great window at the end of the hall, overlooking the sea. There we shall be secure from intrusion. "

Lizzie bowed assent, and after the two girls were snugly seated inthe great window, Leah continued her story:

"She has kept the miniature to this day, and for three long years, no matter how my eyes have longed for a glimpse of that sweet face, I have never dared to ask for it. Many times she has worn it, ingreat state, in her treacherous bosom, my father always supposingthat I loaned it as a special token of affection, --such, at least, was the story she told him, and I have never dared contradict her. "As Leah finished this incident, her dark eye seem to kindle with anew light and a quiver ran through her frame. She added, withstrange emphasis:

"One thing I would say, Lizzie, before passing from this subject, and mark my words; my spirit is not so broken nor my sense ofjustice so blunted but that one day I shall have that miniatureagain. I have sworn it, and as I live, I'll keep my vow. But I musthasten on; it is already growing late. I come now to the last andsorest trouble of my life. 

"For many years I have known Mark Abrams, the son of our rabbi. Wehave been children and friends together, almost from the time mymother died. He was always so gentle and kind to me in his boyhood, that I often wondered what the world would be without Mark Abrams init. He was always the object of my childish admiration, and, indeed, the only friend I ever had who dared, or cared to show me anykindness. A year ago now; a little more than a year, he whispered tome a tender tale of love, and my poor heart thrilled with ecstasy athis words. Yes, he asked me to become his wife, when my school daysshould be ended, and I promised him that I would. 

"No one knew at that sweet time, of his love for me. I did not dreamof it myself, till he told me--surprised me, with the unexpectedrevelation. I begged that our happiness be kept a secret until myschool days were finished. This was my fatal mistake. You know ourpeople have few secret engagements, and if I had only allowed Markto speak to my father at first, then all would have been well. Butthe enemy has at last overtaken me, and I fear I am conquered andruined forever. For some months I have thought that my step-mothersuspected my secret, and have imagined that I could detect herintention to break the attachment if she found her suspicion to becorrect. Her every action has betrayed this intention. I have attimes vaguely hinted my trials and sorrows to Mark, but of theextent of that woman's evil designing, he has had no conception. Iwas ashamed to acquaint him fully with her true character. Wouldthat I had, dear Lizzie! would that I had, long ago! My fears thatMark was being led into the subtle web of that evil woman's weaving, and would surely be taken from me, were confirmed by his absencefrom Bertha Levy's tea-party. He promised me to attend, and mystep-mother offered some inducement that kept him away. To resisther will, one must have the strength of a Hercules. 

"Lizzie! Lizzie! I cannot tell you more; the sequel of my fears istoo dreadful to unfold! Even yet, my poor heart struggles todisbelieve it. " Leah dropped her head for a moment, while a sighescaped her tremulous lips, and was silent. 

"Go on, dear Leah. Tell me all, " said Lizzie. 

And Leah continued. "For a long time I have been perplexed to knowwhere my step-mother kept the key to a small cabinet drawer that Ibelieved contained my long-hidden miniature. By diligent search, Ifound it the day after Bertha's party, and, feeling unusuallyunhappy, I determined, if possible, to see my mother's face oncemore. It was Sunday, and that night we were invited to some privatetheatricals at Mr. Israel Bachman's, whose daughter had justreturned from school. You may remember his house on Vine street. Ideclined to attend. By remaining at home, I thought I couldaccomplish my purpose of discovering the hidden treasure. 

"The cabinet was placed in the large closet attached to thesitting-room. To explore it, I must conceal myself in the closet. After the family departed, leaving me sole occupant of the house, afriend called. When her visit ended, I was interrupted again by theservant, so that it was late before I could begin my secret work. Atlast all was quiet, and my explorations began. First one key, andthen another, was applied to the lock, but without success. I workedaway hopefully, knowing the right one would come in turn if I werenot interrupted. Drawer after drawer was opened and when the rightkeys were at last found, not one yielded up the coveted prize. Itrembled with fear of disappointment. Only one remained to beopened; what if that were empty, too? Slowly and with trembling handI applied the key to this last delicate lock. Just then I heard asound in the hall, and footsteps approaching. What should I do?Without stopping to reflect, I closed the closet-door. As I did so, the sitting-room door was opened, and my step-mother entered, accompanied by Mark Abrams. 

"'Be seated, ' my mother said blandly; and in my covert I wonderedwhat could be coming. Mark obeyed, and drawing his chair nearer thefire waited till she had laid aside her wrappings and seated herselfin front of him. Then she said:

"'It's too bad, Mark, that your love for Leah is so misplaced; but, as I have told you before as mildly as possible, there are reasonswhy her father would never consent--reasons that are unalterable. Aside from poor Leah's unfortunate deformity, there--'

"'Deformity!' ejaculated Mark, in utter surprise, 'I would like toknow how she is deformed? She, the most perfect model that was evercast in mortal mould. '

"'Still, my friend, I feel that it is but just and proper that Iacquaint you with a painful fact; dear Leah is deformed. '

"'And how?' Mark uttered hoarsely. 

"'She suffers from a spinal affection, that will in time render hera hideous deformity, and perhaps a helpless, hopeless invalid. '

"'Merciful Heavens!' uttered Mark, with shocked and incredulousexpression, as he sat gazing into the fire. At length he said:

"'God knows how sorry I am to hear that, for I love her, love herfondly!'

"Quickly discerning the effect of her story, my step-mother withwell-feigned feeling continued:

"'After Leah's school-term is ended, her father contemplates takingher to Europe for medical advice and skill, and in case ofimprovement, which is scarcely supposable or to be hoped for, he haslong ago promised her hand to the son of a wealthy cousin somewherein that country--Baron von something--I can't remember hard names. '

"At length Mark looked up again and said:

"'Mrs. Mordecai, do not distress me farther. How can I credit yourstory? How can I believe that Miss Leah is aught but what sheseems--the embodiment of health and beauty? Alas! for my broken, vanished hopes! Alas! for my golden dreams of the future!'

"'Oh! don't take things too much to heart, my boy. Leah does notcare for you very much anyway. It will be but a small disappointmentto her, if indeed she ever thought seriously of marrying you; and Iremember to have heard her say that she never intended to marry--conscious of her affliction, I suppose. '

"Mark winced under these words, and replied, 'She need not havedeceived me. '

"'Oh! girls will be girls, you know; and after you get over thistrouble, if you still like the name, remember, here is Leah's sisterSarah, as fine a girl as you'll find anywhere, if she is mydaughter. '

"'I could love her for her sister's sake, if nothing more, ' saidMark with feeling; and then he bowed his head upon the marble manteland looked steadily into the fire without a word. 

"'Then if you desire, ' continued my step-mother, with a littleassumed hesitation, 'after reflection, you may speak to her fatheron the subject. Sarah will make a fine wife. '

"Think of me, Lizzie! Think of me, in that miniature dungeon, silently listening to the death sentence of my earthly happiness!Think of my weakness, in mutely listening to the lie that was, perhaps, to wreck my whole life! Think of me, and pity me!" Leahbrushed away a tear, the first that had fallen from her stony eyessince the beginning of her story; and then she continued:

"If Mark heeded these last words of my step-mother, he gave noevidence of it, for he continued to stare blindly at the glowinggrate, apparently oblivious of every surrounding object. At lengthhe aroused, and said:

"'I must be going. Mrs. Mordecai, I bid you good night. '

"'Stay longer, I pray, ' rejoined my step-mother; and he replied:

"'Not to-night; it's late now, and I must be alone. Alone!' hereiterated sorrowfully, and then was gone in a moment. All this time, Lizzie, I had stood shivering in my hiding-place, with my trembling hand almost benumbed by the cold granite knob, bywhich I held the door. I scarcely dared to breathe, for fear mypresence would be revealed. The ordeal was terrible, I assure you! Ithanked Heaven when I heard the library door open and close again, this time upon the receding figure of my step-mother, for then I wasfree again--free to breathe, and to move, and to sigh, if I chose, without betraying my hiding-place, or the cause of my concealment. Ineed not, could not if I chose, tell you of my feelings on thatoccasion. I remember them but dimly, even now. But this much I doremember, and so it shall be. I resolved that Mark Abrams should befree, rather than be undeceived by any word of mine. My pride, thelittle that is left in my soul, and my resentment, the shadow of itthat yet lingers about me, struggled for a time in a fierce contest, and as usual, I yielded up my rights, and succumbed again to a cruelfate. My heart has given up its treasure, and he will never knowaught of the bitter | sacrifice. I feel that I am ill-fated anddespised, Lizzie; and feeling so, I do not desire to overshadow thelife of Mark Abrams. I love him too much, too dearly, ever tobecloud his future with my miserable life. I would rather live onand suffer in silence, as I have done for years, unloved andunloving to the end. "

Here the beautiful girl ceased her story. Both friends for a timewere silent. In Lizzie's soft blue eyes the tears glistened, and shelooked with surprise into the cold, hard face of Leah, which hadlost its gentle expression, and seemed petrified by this recital ofher woes. Then she said:

"Would I could help you, Leah, by sharing your sorrow. "

"No mortal being can help me, Lizzie. I am ill-starred andill-fated, I fear. "

Filled with sympathy, and with a heavy heart, Lizzie bent her head, and laid it in Leah's lap; and her silent prayer, though unheard bymortal ear, ascended to the throne of the Eternal Father, and wasanswered in the far-off future. 

"It's late, and we must go, " said Leah; "already the street lampsare being lighted, and I shall have to render some good excuse forbeing out so late. "

"So we must; it is growing late, " Lizzie replied. 

"Remember now, I trust you, Lizzie, " said Leah. 

"Never fear; I shall never betray your confidence. "

Then the two girls left the window, walked hastily through the halland corridor, down the spiral staircase, out into the street, andturned homeward. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE two friends walked side by side in silence the distance of asquare, and then their paths divided. 

As Lizzie Heartwell turned the corner that separated her from hercompanion, she drew her shawl more closely around her benumbed formand quickened the steps that were hurrying her onward to her uncle'shome. Her mind was filled with sad and gloomy thoughts--thoughts ofthe life and character of her beloved friend. The misty twilightseemed deepened by the tears that bedimmed her vision, as shethought again and again of the life blighted by sorrow, and thecharacter warped by treachery and deceit. 

"Alas!" thought she, "had the forming hand of love but moulded thatyoung life, how perfect would have been its symmetry! What afountain of joy might now be welling in that heart's desert waste, where scarcely a rill of affection is flowing. "

Filled with these and like thoughts, Lizzie reached the doorway ofher uncle's house, and was soon admitted beneath its hospitableroof. 

Leah Mordecai, when separated from Lizzie, plodded straight forwardtoward her father's elegant home. The street lamps shone brightly, but the departing daylight, that was spreading its gloom over theworld, was not half so dark and desolate as her poor heart. Yet Leahseldom wept--her tears did not start, like watchful sentinels, atevery approach of pain or joy. Only when the shrivelled fountain ofher heart was deeply stirred, did this fair creature weep. Calm, placid, and beautiful in the lamp-light, the features of her youngface betrayed no emotion, as she passed one and another, on beyondthe din of the garrulous multitude. 

At last she stood before her father's gate, and rang the bell. 

"Is that you, Miss Leah?" said Mingo the porter, as he opened thedoor of the lodge. 

"Yes, Mingo, I am late this evening. Has my father come home?"

"Has just passed in, miss. "

"I am thankful for that, " she murmured to herself. "Thank you, Mingo, " she added aloud, as the faithful attendant closed the door. 

Nervous from excitement and emotion, it was late that same nightbefore Lizzie Heartwell could quiet herself to slumber. Leah'smelancholy story still haunted her. 

At length she slept and dreamed--slept with the tear-stains on hercheeks, and dreamed a strange, incongruous, haunting dream, reverberating with the deadly war of artillery, and flashing withblazing musketry. The sea, too, the quiet harbor, that she alwaysloved to look upon, was agitated and dark with mad, surging waves. 

The gray old fort also stood frowning in the distance, with strangedark smoke issuing from behind its worn battlements. And amid thisconfusion of dreams and distorted phantasms of the brain, ever andanon appeared the sweet, sad face of Leah Mordecai, looking withimploring gaze into the face of her sleeping friend. 

But at length this disturbed and mysterious slumber was ended by themorning sun throwing its beams through the window pane and arousingthe sleeper to consciousness. Once awakened, Lizzie sprang from herbed, and involuntarily drew aside the snowy curtain that draped theeast window. Then she looked toward the blue sea that surrounded thefort, and exclaimed, "How funny! Defiance is standing grim and darkin its sea-girt place as usual, and all is quiet in the harbor. Howfunny people have such strange dreams. But I fear the vision of thatsmoking fortress and that angry harbor will not fade soon from mymemory; perhaps I have a taint of superstition in my nature. But Imust hasten, or I'll be late for the morning worship. I believe I'lltell my uncle of my dream. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE month sped on. The end of Madam Truxton's year was rapidlyadvancing. School-friendships that had grown and matured within theseminary walls, now deepened and intensified as the day for finalseparation approached. All were studying, with a zeal commendableand necessary, too, for the final ordeal through which MadamTruxton's pupils must necessarily pass. 

Since that dark, gloomy day when Leah Mordecai acquainted LizzieHeartwell with some of the facts of her sad life, not a word furtherhad been spoken on the subject. But they had seemed bound to eachother by an indissoluble bond of love. No word harsher than acaress, and no look sterner than a smile, had Lizzie ever cast uponLeah; and as the thirsty, withered flowers drink up the dew ofheaven, so this girl of misfortune received that tender, unalloyedlove. 

The inexorable duties of the school were pressing, forbidding longconfidential talks and clandestine interviews. Each and all wereimpressed with the fact that they were approaching an important, and, to some, a dreaded epoch in their lives. 

Leah had long since acquainted Lizzie with the consummation of herfears, informing her of the engagement between Mark Abrams and hersister Sarah. With this information--this avowal of her broken heartand hopes--Leah had enshrouded the subject with silence and laid itaway, as we lay our treasures in the tomb. Lizzie, alwayscompassionate and discreet, made no mention of it; and so thesilence was unbroken as the days passed on. 

In the Citadel Square, far above Madam Truxton's seminary, thedrilling, drilling, drilling, was daily going on in these sunnydays. Drilling, drilling, drilling--for the coming battle of life, orfor the crimson strife of war that might desolate a land. Which wasit? Only the veiled years could answer this inquiry. Meanwhile, thedrilling still went on. 

High hopes filled manly bosoms, and ambitious hearts throbbedwildly, as the approaching end of the military year drew nigh. 

Emile Le Grande sat dozing in his private chamber late one evening, at the close of a severe day's duty, seated in a capaciousarm-chair, with his head dropped upon his breast. The young man wasdozing over the journal that he held in his unconscious grasp. Hadone stolen beside him and looked down, he might have read thefollowing entries, beginning many months previous to this evening. 

"January. --I have seen the fair Leah but three times since BerthaLevy's tea-party, yet I have passed her house daily for that purposeever since. Zounds! It's an ill fate, I swear! . . . 

"February. --How my heart beat to-day, as I was walking arm-in-armwith George Marshall, and we suddenly confronted the beautifulJewess as she was turning into Prince street. 

"'What a magnificent face, Emile! What Hebrew maiden is that bowingto you?'

"'Miss Mordecai, ' I proudly replied, 'the Jewish banker's daughter, of whom you have heard me speak before. '

"'Yes, certainly. Well, she is beautiful. You seem a littlebewitched, boy, ', he said. And I said--nothing. 

"March. --I am more and more perplexed. The Jewess is at the bottom ofit all. To-day I hinted to Helen something of my fancy for LeahMordecai. She only laughed. I was irritated by her ridicule, and Itold her I intended to marry Leah if I could. Her silly reply was, 'Well, suppose you can't?' School-girls are intolerably silly, atHelen's age! She thinks now of nothing and nobody but Henry Packard, and he's the stupidest cadet in the institute--everybody knows that. I wish I had a sister that could sympathize with me. Wh-e-e-w! I amaltogether out of sorts. Maybe I'll be all right to-morrow. 

"April. --Prof. Brown said to-day that I was not studying hard enough, and if I did not spur up I should come out shabbily at the end ofthe term. 

"George Marshall, too, good fellow that he is, says I think too muchabout the girl. Maybe I do; but I should like him to tell me how afellow is to help it. That Jewess bewilders me! If old Mordecai wasnot rich, I should love her for her dreamy eyes. I'll swear, eversince she spoke to me so sweetly a week ago, and gave me a clasp ofher white, slender hand, I haven't cared whether I was prompt atparade, studies, or anything else--so I could always be prompt atmeeting her. She looks doleful sometimes. She cannot be very happy. I wonder what my mother would think if she could read this journal. But, old book, you never tell any tales, do you?

"May. --The days are growing warmer--beautiful days, too. Everything isin bloom, and the old Queen City looks charming. The girls, too, Madam Truxton's and all others, swarm about the town like bees in arose-garden. I meet them at every turn. 

"My uniform is getting rather shabby; the buttons and lace are quitetarnished. I must have a new suit before long. 

"I am a lucky fellow of late--have seen Leah M. Many times. She camehome with Helen twice, and I have walked with her many times. I havetold her that I love her, but she does not seem inclined to trustme. Only to-day I sent her a magnolia leaf, upon which was written, 'Je vous aime, ma belle Juive. ' Helen said she smiled as she took itand said, 'Thank him, if you please. ' That was favorable, I think. Yes I consider myself a lucky fellow. 

"June 1. --I am all out of sorts to-night. Things have not gonesmoothly at the Citadel to-day. I was again reprimanded by that oldbald-headed Brown. He must forget that I am a man, and not a mereboy. I don't care whether 'I pass, ' or not, as the boys say. 

"'Deficient in mathematics, ' the professor said, gravely; and Isuppose I am. I never could endure figures, and yet I must make myliving by them. 

"French I understand pretty well. I depend upon that to help methrough. 

"George Marshall will do all he can for me, I know; there's nobetter cadet in the institute; old Brown says that himself. I findthat George was right when he told me long ago that I had too manythoughts in my head about the girls. Deuce take the thoughts! butthey are there. My very proper and punctilious mother, too, has beenscoring me lately. Somehow she found out my fancy. Whew! how she didscold me! Said she would like to know if I had forgotten the bloodthat flowed in the Le Grande veins! If I were lost to family prideand honor so far as to mingle my blood with that of the oldpawnbroker, Mordecai! How she looked! How she stamped the floor withher dainty foot when I hinted at the fact that my maternalgrandfather was neither duke nor lord! How she hushed my'impertinence, ' as she styled it, with such invectives as 'fool, idiot, plebeian'! Heigho! But I felt that it was unmanly in me toprovoke mother so, and I begged her pardon. 

"I did not promise her, though, to leave off loving Leah Mordecai. Idid not tell her, either, that I had asked Leah to be my wife one ofthese days, when school-days were ended. 

"June 5. --The closing exercises of the schools have been hurried upthis year, as the weather is exceedingly warm, and the Board ofHealth fear a return of the terrible scourge, yellow fever, that sodevastated this fair city five years ago. Next week, Madam Truxton'sseminary closes, and that is one week before the institute does. Invitations to Madam's levee are already out. The graduating classof cadets are invited--lucky fellows!

"Helen seems really sad at the prospect of parting with herschool-days and her friends. But then she is eighteen, and that'squite old enough for a girl to come out. She says, too, that of allthe girls at school, Lizzie Heartwell will be the most regrettedwhen she leaves the Queen City for her home in a distant State. Sheis quite a pretty girl, but too religious, I should judge, from whatHelen says. Her mother is a widow. I guess they are poor. 

"Mother is quite reconciled to me again, and spoke playfully to melast night about marrying Miss Belle Upton, who is to visit Helennext week and attend the closing of Madam Truxton's school. Well, 'we shall see what we shall see, ' but I hardly think I will. She canhardly eclipse 'Leah Mordecai the beautiful, '--that's the way I writeit now. "

CHAPTER IX. 

THE examination-days at Madam Truxton's were over. The long-dreadedreviews had been passed with credit to both pupils and instructors. The certificates of scholarship, and the "rewards of merit, " hadbeen given to the fortunate competitors; the long-coveted diplomasawarded to the expectant "finishing class, " and that memorable termof school life was closed forever. The hour for the event had come. The grand old drawing-rooms above the assembly hall in the spaciousbuilding were filled to repletion--filled with the patrons andselect guests that were honored with the fastidious Madam'scourtesy. It was an elegant assembly, one characteristic of theQueen City in her days of unostentatious aristocracy, of gentle-bredmen and women. 

Conspicuous among the famed guests were the three-score cadets, themselves just ready to emerge from college walls and step forthwith triumphant tread upon life's broad opening field. 

The "finishing class" numbered more than a score of girls--all young, some gifted, many beautiful--whose homes were scattered far and widethrough the country; young girls who, for many months, and evenyears, had lived and studied and loved together, with all the ardorand strength of youth. Now they were to be sundered; sundered withno prospect of future reunion. 

All felt this approaching separation with more or less sorrow, according to their varying natures; and some contemplated it withdeep regret. 

The greetings, congratulations, and presentations were over, andMadam Truxton, in all her stately elegance, had at last relaxed herrigid vigilance, and the "finishing class" were free--free to wanderfor the first time, and that first the last too, among the spacioushalls and corridors of the old school building, as young ladies. Free to receive the smiles and addresses of the long-forbiddencadets without fear of madam's portentous frown. 

At length the sound of music rose upon the air. Knotted groups hereand there bespoke the preparation for the dance. Sets were formingin drawing-rooms and halls, and impatient feet were moving to themeasure of the prelude. 

"Miss Heartwell, may I claim your hand for the quadrille?" saidGeorge Marshall, bowing before Lizzie at the presentation of MadamTruxton herself. 

"I thank you, I never dance, Mr. Marshall. "

"Not dance! How's that?"

"Never learned, sir. "

"That's stranger still. I supposed all of madam's young ladiesdanced. "

"In general they do, " replied Lizzie, "but from peculiarcircumstances I am an exception to the general rule. If you desire apartner in the dance, allow ne to present you to my friend, BerthaLevy. She dances like a fay. "

"Not just now, thank you, Miss Heartwell; if it is not impertinent, I would like to know why you do not dance. "

"Well, it's a simple story, quickly told; and if you will listen amoment I'll inform you, if you desire. "

"With pleasure. Go on. "

"Melrose, my native home, in the State of --, is a quiet littletown, with little social life and less gayety. My mother, too, is awidow, who has lived in great seclusion ever since my father'sdeath, which occurred when I was a little child. I have been heronly companion in all these years of bereavement and sorrow, and ithas never been her desire that I should indulge in any of thepleasures and gayeties that young people are fond of. From thesecauses my life has assumed a sombre tone that may seem, and indeedis, unnatural in the young. Yet, as I have known nothing else all mylife, it is no trial for me to forego the pleasures that are soalluring to you, perhaps, Mr. Marshall. "

George Marshall made no reply, and for a time seemed absorbed incontemplation. He had listened attentively to this simple, half-toldhistory of her life. And as he marked the gentle expression of herspirituelle face, she became in his eyes a model of beauty. Theallusion to the death of her father had recalled to his mind thetime and manner of his own father's death--a time when the terribleplague of yellow fever had swept over the Queen City withdevastating wing. Observing George Marshall's silent, absorbedmanner, Lizzie continued:

"You think me very uninteresting, I dare say. Young ladies who donot dance are generally so considered. Allow me to present you tosome of my friends who will--"

"I beg pardon, Miss Heartwell, for my inattention. I was thinking ofthe past--the past recalled by your own story. Excuse my abstraction, I pray. "

"But the young ladies?" said Lizzie. 

"I do not care to dance now, if you will allow me the pleasure of apromenade, " he replied. 

"Certainly I will, " replied Lizzie with a graceful bend of theshapely head; and clasping with her timid little hand the strong armof the manly cadet, she passed with him from the lower drawing-roomacross the hall to the library. 

"There's more room in the corridor than here, " said Lizzie; "supposewe go there?"

"First let me ask a question, suggested by the musical instrument Isee standing in the library. Do you sing? Do you sing with theharp?"

"I do. "

"Will you not sing for me?"

"I will, with pleasure, if you will make room in the library, " shereplied with unaffected simplicity. The library was occupied by anumber of matronly ladies and elderly gentlemen--all of the guestswho were not participating in the dance. Lizzie bowed her headslightly, and passed to the harp, now silent in one corner. Withouthesitation she seated herself before it, and the slender fingersgrasped the strings of the instrument with a masterly touch, runningthrough a soft, sweet prelude of tender chords. Her voice at lasttrilled forth in the charming strains of the old Scotch ballad, "Down the burn, Davy, love. "

Concluding this old favorite air, she sang again, with sweetness, the witching song, "I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows. "

Then rising from the harp, she said, with sweet accent and sweetersmile, "Now that I have bewitched you with my music, Mr. Marshall, Iam ready for the promenade on the corridor. "

These words so lightly spoken by the girl, were but the utterance ofa truth of which she had no suspicion. George Marshall was indeedbewitched, and bowing a silent assent, he offered his arm to theenchantress, and soon Lizzie found herself among the dancers, whowere seeking temporary relaxation from the exercise, scattered ingroups here, there, and everywhere about the spacious building. 

Out into the long balcony, where the silvery moonlight lay softly asdew upon the flowers, George Marshall led the way, with the younggirl clinging timidly to the brave strong arm, that for months hadknown no tenderer touch than the cold, cruel steel of the musket, the constant companion of the cadet in the military course justclosing. 

They passed in silence through the corridor, and at last stood atthe eastern end that overlooked the sea, stretching her arms aroundthe child of her bosom, the devoted Queen City. 

George Marshall, always taciturn, was now painfully silent. Hisbrain, always quick and clear to comprehend a problem in Legendre, now seemed beclouded and sluggish. At length, embarrassed by theoppressive silence, Lizzie endeavored to arouse her companion byremarking, "Are you fond of the sea, Mr. Marshall?"

Still gazing eastward over the deep, he replied abstractedly:

"Do you mean, am I fond of sea-life? If so, I answer mostemphatically, No. There's but one life in this world that attractsme"--and here his manner grew constrained as he continued--"but one, and that's the life of a soldier. I love military life and service, and when my course is finished--which time is near at hand--if I amsuccessful, as I hope to be, I shall offer myself to my country, andawait impatiently her refusal or acceptance of my humble services. But I beg your pardon, if my enthusiasm has led me away from yourinquiry. I only like to look upon the sea; its grandeur in a storm, and the peaceful repose that follows, excite my admiration, butthat's all. It's something too treacherous to love. "

"You fear the water, then, " asked Lizzie smiling. 

"Look to-night, if you please, " was the answer, "at the soft silversheen that covers its beautiful blue bosom, and imagine, if you can, such peaceful water engulfing a hapless bark within its silentdepths! Oh no; I only admire the sea as a part of God's wonderfulcreation. But, Miss Heartwell, there's something just visible in thehazy distance that I do love; it's old Defiance. You see the lightsof the old fort twinkling far off on the water? They stir within methe martial spirit, and seem to beckon me on to an unknown, butlonged-for destiny. It may be fancy, yet there has been a peculiarfeeling toward that old fort ever since I first became a cadet atthe Citadel. Why do you frown? Do you object to my enthusiasm?"

"By no means, " replied Lizzie quickly; "but, strangely as it seemsto fascinate you, it has always repelled, and even terrified me. It's the only object of the beautiful harbor that has ever cast ashadow across the loveliness of the sea. I hate it; and I have oftenwished the sea would draw it silently into its hungry depths, andleave no trace of it behind. "

George laughed. 

"Your fancy amuses me, " he said. "It would never do to obliterateold Defiance, for then the enemy, should they ever come, would findeasy access to the Queen City, and ruin and destruction mightfollow. "

"Well, I guess my wishes will be unavailing in the future, as theyhave been in the past; and as I leave the Queen City to-morrow, oldDefiance will fade from my sight though not from my memory, for along, long time. So for the present I wish it no ill. "

"Indeed, " replied George Marshall in surprise, "do you leave theQueen City to-morrow--so soon?"

"Yes, I go by steamer--by the Firefly, that leaves to-morrow for theport of --, in my native State, and from there to Melrose, where Ilive. "

"At what hour does the steamer leave?" inquired the young manthoughtfully. 

"At six P. M. , uncle tells me. "

"And you leave so soon--six P. M. To-morrow?" he asked. "Maybe I amselfish in monopolizing you so long, Miss Heartwell. I have twofriends you must know before the evening closes--Edwin Calhoun andEmile Le Grande. Have you met them? The dancing has ceased again, and we'll look them up. "

"Thank you. "

"Before we leave this moonlit spot, however, Miss Heartwell, I begthat you make friends with old Defiance, for my sake, and recallthat cruel wish concerning him, " he said playfully, and with an archsmile. 

Lizzie replied, "For your sake, I will, and for yours only;" andthrowing a kiss across the silvery sea, she said, "Take that, oldfort, as a peace-offering. "

The winds sighed and the sea murmured as they turned to rejoin therevellers, and that sportive kiss was borne away on the wanderingbreeze. 

The revelry must end. Madam's love-bound pupils must be separated. The adieus must be spoken, but there must be no tears; that were aweak and indecorous manifestation of feeling, in madam's estimation. Blandly bowing her stately head, and kindly congratulating each uponhaving "finished, " and finished well, madam gracefully waved themout of her presence, into the future, with a gentle motion of herjewelled hand. 

"I shall see you to morrow, Lizzie, " whispered Leah Mordecai, as shepassed from the seminary escorted by Emile Le Grande. 

"Certainly, at any hour, and do not disappoint me. Remember it's thelast day. "

All were gone. The stars twinkled faintly in the sky. Every light inmadam's great house was extinguished, and all sound of thatevening's revel hushed forever. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE morning sun threw its ruddy beams, warm almost to tropical heat, through the half-closed casement of Leah Mordecai's apartment, andthe intrusive light opened the dark, dreamy eyes to consciousness. The hour was late. Toil-worn and languid from hard study and therelaxing climate, Leah rested in her bed reluctant to arise. 

"It's all over now; school-days are ended, and I am acknowledged ayoung lady, I suppose, " thought Leah half-consciously, as shearoused at length from slumber. Then the thought came that it wasthe last day of Lizzie Heartwell's sojourn in the Queen City; andLeah sprang from her repose with a new and powerful impulse. "Ishall spend these last hours with her, " she muttered articulately, as she hastily performed the morning's simple toilet. "Yes, I'lltell her my secret, too, though to no living soul have I breathed ityet, " she continued audibly, as she adjusted a pin here and thereamong the dark braids of her hair. At last, smoothing the jettybands across the fair, oval forehead, she glanced back again to seethat the scar--the hated, dreadful scar--was hidden. Then placing aknot of scarlet ribbon amid the delicate lace-work of her snowymorning dress, she languidly descended the stairs and entered thelibrary, where her father sat awaiting her appearance. 

Mr. Mordecai was proud of Leah; proud of her attainments at school, gratified with her grade of deportment, and delighted that she had"finished, " and with so much credit. As she entered the library, hearose, and clasping her in his arms, imprinted first a good-morningand then a congratulatory kiss upon her face. 

"I am proud of my daughter, " he said; "proud that no one at MadamTruxton's excelled my own Leah. I am proud of your example to yoursisters, and trust they will strive to emulate it. "

"Thank you, father. I hope I shall never cause you shame, " shereplied with tenderness. 

During this brief dialogue, the evil-eyed mother had sat anattentive listener, her jealous nature stirred to its depths. Thenshe said:

"If you are so proud of Leah now, what will you feel when Sarah isthrough school?"

"Additional happiness, I trust; and following her sister's example, she cannot disappoint papa, " said Mr. Mordecai, stroking Sarah uponthe head softly, as he arose and led the way to the breakfast table. 

The morning repast was finished with more than becoming haste, forMr. Mordecai had waited to welcome his daughter, and wouldconsequently be late at his bank. 

"It's real late, " said Leah, as she followed her father from thehouse. "I hear the Citadel clock striking ten. I must spend themorning with Lizzie. " Then donning the light Leghorn hat that gaveher a gypsy-like appearance, she started forth toward Rev. Dr. Heartwell's unpretentious house. As she passed block and square thatmarked the distance, her heart was heavy and her thoughts weresorrowful. She realized that it was perhaps her final leave--takingof her most cherished friend. Her path led past the walls of thedark, gray citadel, and as she cast a glance up toward its turretedheights, and its prison-like windows, she sighed a deep-drawn, heart-felt sigh. And why?

The gentle sea-breeze had arisen, and though it sported with thehelpless ribbon upon her bosom, and kissed again and again thecrimson cheeks, it could not cool the fires of anxiety and sorrowthat burned within her heart. She felt that she was losing much inlosing Lizzie Heartwell. And the fear was not an idle one. 

Trembling with fatigue and deep-hidden emotion, Leah at length stoodat the door of Dr. Heartwell's house, awaiting the answer of theporter. 

The door opened. "M-m-miss L-l-lizzie s-s-says c-c-come right u-upstairs, M-m-iss M-m-ordecai, " stuttered out the polished blackHannibal who attended the door, known throughout the large circle ofDr. Heartwell's friends and acquaintances as a most accomplishedservant and a most miserable stammerer. 

"Very well; please show me the way, " replied Leah, repressing asmile. 

Up two flights of stairs she followed the dark guide, and when theyarrived at Lizzie's room, whose door stood ajar, he said, with aflourish of his right hand; "M-m-iss M-m-mordecai, M-m-issL-l-lizzie. "

"Well, Hannibal, why don't you tell me?" said Lizzie playfully; andHannibal retreated below stairs, grinning and rubbing his head inconfusion. The girls were left alone. Lizzie was busy packing trunksand arranging boxes, while every description of feminineparaphernalia was lying about the room in disorder. 

"Now let me help you, dear, " said Leah, "and then we can have a longtalk. "

"Thank you, so we will. I'll first tumble these things into thattrunk quick as a flash, for Aunt Rose will not come up to inspectthem, I guess; and when I get home my mother will give them a goodoverhauling. I am tired and worn out from hard study and excitement, and my good mother will excuse my disorder, this time. Cram them in. Here goes the shawl, now comes my dress, the muslin I wore lastnight. Don't let me crush that. I'll fold it carefully, for the sakeof the compliment it secured me last night, " said Lizzie, smiling asshe turned the snowy garment about, folding it for the trunk. 

"What was that?" said Leah. 

"George Marshall said I looked like a pearl, my dress was so gauzy. How does that sound to-day? It sounded very well last night. Iscarcely made him a reply. I don't know how to reply to suchspeeches, but I thought if I did look like a pearl in my gauzyrobes, it was owing to my mother's good taste and skilful fingers, for no professional modiste touched or contrived my dress. "

"It's as handsome as any Madame Aufait turns out, I think, " saidLeah. 

"Not as handsome as yours, Leah; but then my mother has to considerthe cost in everything, and you do not. "

These words of Lizzie's, this kind and loving allusion to hermother's tenderness and never-wearying care, fell upon the heart ofLeah as the cold, cruel steel falls upon the unoffending dove. Shelooked out of the window and brushed a tear from the fringedeyelids, that Lizzie might not see it. 

Lizzie continued, "I must take care of this dress, Leah; I don'tknow when I shall have a new one again. Maybe, dear, the next timeyou hear from me, I'll be playing school--ma'am, and such robes willnot be often brought into use. How would you like to be my pupil, Leah?" she said, with a forced attempt at pleasantry. 

Leah looked seriously at her friend a moment, and said, "You haven'tany idea of teaching, really, Lizzie?"

"Yes, dear, I may teach. My mother is a widow, you know, and by nomeans wealthy. I am the oldest child. She has educated me at greatsacrifice, with my dear uncle's assistance, and it would be wrong inme not to show my gratitude by at least endeavoring to maintainmyself, if nothing more. Oh yes, love, by and by I shall be anangular school--ma'am, unless"--and she laughed a roguish, merrylaugh--"unless I get married. "

"Dear me! how the wind blows!" said Leah, as the white muslincurtain flapped backward and forward in the playful breeze, ever andanon covering her beautiful head and face. 

"Yes, Leah, this same sweet sea-breeze will soon waft me far fromyou, when to meet again, God only knows. I am about through thispacking now, and we must have our talk--our last, long, confidentialchat, for many, many days. "--"Maybe years, " Leah added sorrowfully. 

"Here goes old trunk number one. Books, and everything pertaining toschool-days, are tucked away in you;" and she turned the key. "Thisone, number two, I shall not close till Aunt Rose makes a littledeposit in it of something for my mother--so she requested me. " Thenstooping down, Lizzie drew forth from its hiding-place a carefullywrapped little bundle, and handing it to Leah, said:

"Here, dear, is a scarlet silk scarf, fringed with gold, that Idesire to give you as a keepsake. It is something I prize, as it wasbrought from Greece by an uncle of mine, some years ago. Its colorswill contrast beautifully with your sweet face; take it. "

"Keep it yourself, Lizzie. I need nothing, I care for nothing, forpersonal adornment. You tell me I am beautiful, but that does notsatisfy the heart that has suffered so from cruel wrong-doing. Icare only for that of which I receive so little--human sympathy andlove. Take it back. "

"No; keep it as a memento of my love, if you never care to wear it, "said Lizzie. 

Leah laid her arms around Lizzie's neck at these words, and bendingher head kissed her again and again. 

"Now I am done, let's sit here by the window that looks out towardthe sea, and have our chat. "

CHAPTER XI. 

"TO-DAY you leave me, Lizzie, " Leah began; "leave poor Leah with noone--" then she stopped. 

"Why do you hesitate? Is there something that troubles you?" Lizzieasked, observing Leah's hesitation. 

"Yes, " Leah said faintly, "there is something that troublesme--something that I fear to tell even you, dear Lizzie. "

"Can't you trust me?"

"Not that, Lizzie; but I am ashamed to tell you, and afraid too. But, " she continued, "you know what I suffered about Mark Abrams, and how his love was taken from me and secured for another. Well"--she hesitated again. "The secret I am about to disclose now, does not concern Mark Abrams, or any other Hebrew under the sun. "

"Is it some love-affair with a Gentile?"

"Yes, " whispered Leah, "and it greatly perplexes me. It is somethingthat has been forced upon me, and tremblingly I come to you foradvice. "

"Whom does it concern?"

"One that tells me he loves me, and swears eternal devotion--onewhose name I hardly dare to mention. "

"I hope he is worthy of you, whoever it may be. "

"Have you not suspected me, Lizzie? Has not my tell-tale facebetrayed me before? Can't you think who it is to whom I refer?"

"Can it be Emile Le Grande?" said Lizzie, after a moment'sreflection, with a look of astonishment. 

"Yes, " faltered Leah, "he is the one that tells me he loves me. "

"And do you love him, Leah?" said Lizzie, with some hesitation. Thecurtain that continued fluttering with renewed force was wafted fullinto the face of the young Jewess, and veiled the crimson blushesthat overspread it. As gently as it came, the curtain floated back, and Lizzie detected the traces of Leah's sudden emotion. Withoutwaiting for further inquiry, Leah continued:

"I determined I would tell you all, Lizzie, before we parted, andask your advice. Yes, I think I do love Emile--love him, because hesays he loves me. Last night he urged me again to become his wife. Itrembled like a frightened bird; I felt that I was listening todangerous words, yet I had not courage to break away from him. "

"Did he say anything else--I mean about your being a Jewess?"

"Oh, yes; much. He said he cared nothing about that difference, if Idid not; but I told him I did. I assured him that I had been reareda Hebrew of the straightest sect, and that my father would neverconsent to my marrying a Christian. At my remarks he laughed, andreplied that he would take care of the opposition, if I would onlymarry him. He urged and pleaded with me to promise him, but Isteadfastly refused. He is very fascinating though, and I think adangerous man to come in the way of a poor, irresolute, unhappy girllike myself. "

"Did he say much about the difference in religion, Leah?"

"He said something, not a great deal; said he was not religioushimself; that one faith was about as useful to him as another, as hedid not know positively which was the true one. He said he would assoon marry a Jewess as a Christian, so he loved her, and thereligion might take care of itself. "

"Did you ask if his parents knew of his love for you?"

"Yes. He replied that Helen knew of it, but he had not troubledhimself to tell his parents. I did not like that remark; and Ireplied that they would doubtless object to my being a Jewess, should he tell them. He laughed at the bare suggestion, and Iupbraided him a little for this apparent disregard of his parents. "

"You might have referred him to the fifth commandment withpropriety, Leah, I think. "

"So I might, but did not think of it. I have told you about all now, Lizzie, and I want your opinion of such intermarrying. The subjectstirs me deeply, and I have no other friend to whom I would dareconfide it. I trust no one as I do you. " Leah looked seriously andsteadily into her friend's face, and Lizzie began:

"What I say now, Leah, is not intended as advice to you in regard tomarrying Emile Le Grande, but only my opinion in general aboutmarriages where such material differences exist. In the first place, a man who confesses that he has no religious faith, is to be pitied, if not despised. And I think an unbelieving Christian far worse thanthe most unbelieving Jew. It argues such an utter want ofconsistency and fidelity. I should fear to trust a man that couldmake such a confession. The Le Grandes are an irreligious family, and Emile's education has necessarily been neglected in that mostimportant respect. In consequence of their want of religiousprinciples, they are notoriously proud, haughty, and vain--sillyeven--of their family distinction. I imagine that Mrs. Le Grandecould scarcely receive a deeper wound to her family pride, than fromEmile's marrying a Jewess, no matter how lovely or high-born. Allshe knows or remembers of the Mordecais is, that the banker was oncea poor, despised pawnbroker. No years of honest endeavor, orsuccessful attainment, could wipe this fact from her retentivememory. It would be a misnomer, Leah, to call such a woman aChristian. She is an utter stranger to the sweet principles of faithand love embraced by true Christians, and practised by those whobelieve that they have 'passed from death unto life. '

"Then, your people, too, are unrelenting in their views on suchunnatural marriages. Suppose you were to marry this man, in the faceof the unyielding opposition of the parents on both sides--there'slittle hope that they could be reconciled. You see at once how youmight be considered an outcast from your people and his too. Yourchildren would be neither Jew nor Christian; for all the externalrites and ceremonies of the earth cannot transform a Christian intoa Jew, or a Jew into a Christian. Accursed be the nominal Christianthat would allow his children, by ceremony or rite, to be madenominally Jews. Such a one is worse than an infidel; and has deniedthe faith. God made the Hebrews a great and glorious people--his ownchosen children. But between Christians and Hebrew there is a wide, wide difference; and God made that, too. 

"No; Leah, if I were advising a Jewess to marry a Gentile, which Iam not doing, I would say, Select a man deeply rooted in religiousprinciple, and clinging humbly to his Christian faith. Such a manwould rarely, if ever, deceive or ill-use you. "

"I see that you are right, Lizzie, " interrupted Leah, apparentlyaroused by her companion's words. "I'll heed your teaching, andnever listen to another word of love from the one who might lead meinto temptation, and perhaps into a fatal snare. Alas!" shecontinued, with her dark eyes flashing, "but for a terrible lie, acruel deception, I should still be the affianced of Mark Abrams, andhappy in the hope of becoming his wife--not an unhappy, disappointedgirl, open to the flattery and fascinations of another man. "

"Keep your resolve, Leah, if you can; and may the all-wise Fathergive you strength, " replied Lizzie. 

"God helping me, I will; but you know I am a weak and helplesscreature, and when you are gone, my only bosom-comfort and faithfulfriend will have departed. Promise me that you will never cease tolove me, and remember with pity the heart that loves you and willever yearn to be with you. "

Lizzie made no reply; the swelling heart choked down the utterancesthat struggled to escape her lips; and drawing Leah close to herbosom, she embraced her in a silent, warm, and tender clasp. "Trustme, even unto death, " at length she whispered softly; and the replycame:

"I will. "

At the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs, Lizzie said, "Therecomes Aunt Rose. You will be at the wharf this evening, Leah, to seeme off, and to bid me God-speed with one of your bright smiles, thatI may hope for a safe arrival at my destined port?"

"Well, we have had our talk without interruption, and so I'll leaveyou, " said Leah. "Your aunt will certainly want you to herselfawhile. I'll meet you at the wharf in time. Till then, good-by. "

As Mrs. Heartwell entered Lizzie's room, Leah passed out; and asweeter, sadder face Mrs. Heartwell said she had rarely seen. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE hours stole on, and the one for Lizzie's departure was at hand. As the sun sank slowly down to rest, on that memorable sunny Juneday, clouds of crimson, purple, and gold, blended in fantasticshapes, overspread the broad horizon, and attracted the most casualobserver by their wondrous beauty. Toward the eastern horizon thesky was blue and cloudless, blending with the water in a vast azureimmensity. 

The cool, crisp sea-breeze had dissipated the intense heat of theday, and crowds of gay pedestrians, and scores of liveried vehicles, were passing and repassing upon the fashionable boulevard, where thewealth and beauty of the Queen City daily gathered after the heat ofthe day was over. 

The Firefly, laden with her burden, was ready at the pier, awaitingthe signal to depart. Lizzie Heartwell's friends still lingered uponthe inviting deck, reluctant to speak the parting word that must sosurely come. Dr. And Mrs. Heartwell, her uncle and aunt, Judge Amityand his daughter, her Sabbath-school teacher, Bertha, Helen, andLeah, the remaining ones of the "indissoluble quartette, " as theschool-girls termed these friends, were assembled on the deck, andwith them Emile Le Grande and her newly formed friend, GeorgeMarshall. In compliance with his promise he had come to speed theparting vessel with good wishes, and watch its receding form till itwas lost from view upon the trackless waters. 

As the citadel gun fired its sunset signal, the planks were orderedin, friends rushed on shore, and then the Firefly moved from hermoorings, to plough the deep again. As George Marshall spoke hislast adieu, he slipped a tiny billet-doux into the hand of thedeparting girl, who half heeding the action, dropped it into herpocket, and sat down in loneliness upon the deck, to watch theslowly vanishing shore. Fainter and dimmer grew the speck upon thedeep to the friends who watched on shore, fainter and dimmer in thegathering twilight, till the bark rounded old Defiance, and wasdivided by distance and darkness from their vision. 

When Lizzie Heartwell, attended by the kind captain, descended belowdeck, she remembered the little missive, and drawing it from itshiding-place, read:

"Miss HEARTWELL: What would you think, if my wanderings should leadme, some day, to Melrose? "Regretfully, "G. M. "

"Think I should like to see you, " uttered the young girl, with asmile, as she folded the note again out of sight. 

As the last glimpse of the Firefly faded from the vision of thesad-eyed watchers, they turned slowly from their lookout of sorrow, and bent their steps homeward. 

"It's growing late, Miss Leah, " said Emile, who stood near the youngJewess. "May I see you safely home?"

"Thank you, but it is not too late for me to go alone, " she replied;"besides, my walk will lead to my uncle Jacob's, where I may spendthe night; that's not very far, you know. "

Determined not to be baffled in his purpose to escort Leah, hereplied:

"'The longer the walk, the shorter the way, ' with you, Miss Leah. Allow me to attend you, I pray. " His pertinacity prevailed; andfalteringly she replied, "As you like, Mr. Le Grande, " resolving inher heart though, that this should be the last time. "Only thismorning, " thought she, "what did I promise Lizzie? And before theday is ended, I have broken that promise. What an irresolutecreature I am! But this shall be the last. I vow it again. "

"You will miss Miss Heartwell, I judge, " began Emile, as he walkedforward by her side. "From your sorrowful expression, one mightthink she had died, instead of vanished from sight in a vessel. Itrust there are yet some friends in the Queen City; at least one, who will be kindly remembered in the absence of Miss Heartwell. "

"Yes, Mr. Le Grande, I have some friends, a few, I trust, leftbehind; but no one, not a soul, that can supply her place in myaffections. She has been more than a school-friend to me; she hasbeen a counsellor, a sister; one who above all others comprehends mynature and sympathizes with and appreciates my character, " saidLeah, warmly. 

"Indeed, Miss Heartwell is to be envied in possessing so much ofyour affection, and yet I think you speak unjustly in attributing toher alone the heart of love and sympathy you do. Have I not told youof my attachment and devotion to you? And do you still require otherprotestations to confirm the sincerity of my confession?"

At these words-unwelcome words to Leah-she colored deeply, andturning her dark, burning eyes full upon Emile, said:

"Mr. Le Grande, I pray you never let me hear you utter such asentiment as that again. We are friends, and, if you choose, mayalways be; but, in all truthfulness I say it, more than friends wecan never be. I confess frankly that your society is very agreeableto me, your manner fascinating, your style attractive; but I am aJewess of the strictest sect, and you a Christian, and not a strictone; and these facts alone form an insurmountable barrier in the wayof our being more than friends. A great gulf lies between us, overwhich even love cannot securely go. You cannot come to me, and Idare not cross to you. It is dishonor to God and disobedience toparents, to think of such a step. Mr. Le Grande, I beg you, forgetthis passion you profess; crush it out if it exists, and rememberLeah Mordecai, the Jewess, as only a friend. Do you promise?" shesaid, trembling from head to to foot, for it had required all themoral strength of her yielding nature to utter these words-wordsthat could instantly quench the only taper of hope that still burnedin her soul. 

"Do I promise?" he replied with haughty emotion. "No! I swear I willnot! So long as you are free I will love you; and so long as yourmaidenhood gives the opportunity, I shall tell you of that love. Give you up? I, who love you with a mad and foolish devotion? Ipromise not to love you? No! no! Never, never, never, while hopelasts. What care I if you are a Jewess? It's the shrine of beautywhere I bow, and because a Jewess breathes therein, shall I withdrawmy homage? Never while I live. I swear it!"

Frightened at her desperate lover's words, Leah walked on insilence, almost regretting that her courage had permitted her tospeak her mind so freely. After a time she said, "Do not be angrywith me, Mr. Le Grande, I did not mean to offend you. "

"It's worse than offence, it is death, " he replied. 

Ascending the steps of her uncle's house, by this time reached, Leahextended her hand and said, "Good-by. I'll tarry here to-night. "Clasping her soft hand, he said, "I shall see you soon. Good-night. "

A week after Madam Truxton's school closed, the term of the militaryacademy ended. The drilling, drilling, drilling, was stopped, thegraduating class of cadets had either won or lost the honors forwhich they contested; and the roll of candidates for military honorswas handed to the world. Conspicuous among the names crowned withwell-won distinction was that of George Marshall. A nobler, braverspirit never stepped from college walls upon life's crowded highway, or one with firmer, truer tread than he. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

TIME rolled on. Months had melted into months until they werecalendared by years, since we bade adieu to Madam Truxton'sfinishing class on that departed June day 185-, and watched withregretful eye the last well-executed drill of the graduating cadetsof the same year. 

Sunny twelvemonths only had so far passed over these sunderedfriends, many of whom still clung to each other with the old love ofschool days, and maintained by frequent correspondence a thoroughknowledge of each other's lives and doings. It is worth mentioningthat these years had brought some changes to the lives and fortunesof three of the four firm friends at Madam Truxton's, and to otherswho were once sworn friends at the institute. 

In her quiet home at Melrose, Lizzie Heartwell was confronting dailythe stern duties of life amid a bevy of bright-eyed little scholars, wearing with easy grace the dignity of school-mistress. 

Helen Le Grande, a bright fresh blonde in school days, had blossomedinto a fair, beautiful, fashionable belle, as devoted to society associety was devoted to her. 

Bertha Levy, roguish and merry-hearted as ever, had been sent abroadto complete her education in Berlin--"To sober her down, and try andbreak her spirit, " as she wrote in a letter to Lizzie. 

It was only the life of Leah Mordecai that apparently was marked byno change. She was older by a few years-that was all the world sawof change in her life. To strangers' eyes, she was still pursuingthe even tenor of her life, still wearing the melancholy expression, and still envied by many for her wealth and beauty. The eyes of theworld could not read the impoverished heart that throbbed within herbosom. 

On first leaving college, Emile Le Grande intended to study law, andfor months endeavored to concentrate his mind upon the prosaic, practical teachings of Blackstone. The effort proved unsuccessful, and then procuring employment in a well-established banking house, he applied himself to business with commendable assiduity. Yet alivein his heart was the passion so long nourished for the beautifulJewess. He still lost no opportunity of assuring her again and againof his unchanging devotion, and constantly endeavored, by tenderestutterances of love, to gain the promise of her hand. 

This persistent homage, though avoided long by Leah, became in timenot unwelcome; and as month after month passed on, she oftenwhispered to herself, "Struggle as I may against it, I do love him. Love wins love, always, I believe. "

George Marshall, realizing the fulfilment of his long-cherisheddream, was in the active service of his country, a captain in theregular army. Though he was removed from his native State, no onewho knew him could doubt that he stood firmly, bravely at his postof duty, ready to do his country's work at her bidding. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

"MY son, " said Mrs. Abrams, in low, gentle tone to Mark one day, asshe looked into the small library where he sat busily at work uponsomething half-concealed in his hand, "come here a mimute, won'tyou?"

"Are you in a hurry, mother?" he replied, lifting his black eyes, bright with an expression of determination, and resting them fullupon his mother's face. 

"No, not exactly, if you are busy; but what are you doing?"

"I'll tell you when I come in, and not keep you waiting longeither. "

Mrs. Abrams quietly withdrew, and returned to the bedside of herlittle daughter Rachel, who lay suffering from pain and burning withfever. 

"What can mamma do for her darling now?" said the fond mother, asshe bent her head over her child and smoothed back the fair hairfrom the heated brow; "does your arm still hurt, my lamb?" Thechild's moan was her only answer. 

"What a pity! How cruel that your dear little arm should have beenso torn by that savage dog!" continued Mrs. Abrams, as she wet thebandage again with the cooling lotion, and brushed away the tearsthat she could not repress at the sight of her little daughter'ssuffering. 

The sound of footsteps, and Mark stood in the doorway, holding inhis hand a small, dark object, and said:

"Mother, do you see this? Well, I've got it ready--"

"O Mark!" interrupted his mother in horror. "When did you get thatdeadly thing: I beg of you, put that pistol up at once; the verysight of it terrifies me. "

Mark laughed and replied, "I'll fix old Dame Flannagan's dog, mother, and then I'll put it away. She hid the dog from the police, but she can't keep it hid always. I shall kill it on sight, and goprepared to do so. I have vowed I would. "

"Let the dog alone, son, you may get into trouble if you do not, "replied his mother. 

"Indeed, I will not let the dog alone, " replied Mark indignantly, ashe drew nearer to the bed whereon the suffering little sister lay, with lacerated arm and burning brow. "To think of this dear child, as she was innocently trundling her hoop along the side-walk, beingattacked by that savage brute, and her life so narrowly saved!Indeed, I'll not let it alone. I'll shoot it the first time I seteyes upon it, and the old hag had better not say anything to meafter I have done it. Poor little darling!

"What shall brother Mark bring his little sister today?" continuedthe fond brother, stooping over and kissing the child again andagain, before leaving for the office of the shipping firm, of whichhe had just been made a partner. 

"Yes, mother, " he continued, slipping the weapon of death into theinner pocket of his coat, "I am not a warlike man, as you know, butI'll carry this, " pointing to the pistol, "till I kill that dog, sure;" and adjusting his coat and hat he passed out of the house. 

Rabbi Abrams did not reside among the palatial residences of theQueen City. A rather restricted income compelled him to find a moreunpretentious home than was perhaps in keeping with his avocationand position in life. Yet, carrying into practice the teaching heset forth, to "owe no man anything, " and never live beyond one'sincome, he established his home in a portion of the city that wasrather characterized by low rents than aristocratic abodes. However, they were respectable, and comfortably situated withal. Immediatelyadjoining the rabbi's house lived a garrulous old Irish woman, atonce the aversion and dread of the neighborhood. Old MargeryO'Flannagan needed no protection against the incursions ofdepredators, beyond the use of her own venomous tongue; still, shefurther strengthened her ramparts by the aid of a dog of most savageand ferocious propensities, that she dignified by the ominous nameof "Danger. " Between her and Danger there existed the strongest bondof friendship, if not affection. In an unexpected manner, thissavage dog had assaulted the little daughter of the rabbi, and whenthe father demanded the life of the dog at the hands of the police, she hid him away out of reach, and swearing like a pirate, threatened to kill any man that dared molest Danger. 

CHAPTER XV. 

LEAH MORDECAI sat alone in her bed chamber. A bright fire glowedwithin the grate, and the gas-light overhead added its mellowbrightness to the apartment. Arrayed in a comfortable crimson silkwrapper, the girl sat before the fire, with her slippered foot uponthe fender, and gazed steadily and thoughtfully into the fantasticcoals. Without, the world was cold and bright, for a pale, tremulousmoon filled the world with its beauty. The wind came in across thesea, and mingling with the murmur of the waters, produced a weirdand ghost-like sound, as it swept through half-deserted streets, penetrating rudely the abodes of poverty, and whistling around themansions of the rich. This sound Leah heard faintly, as it soughtingress at her windows, and down the half-closed chimney. Sheshuddered; yet it was not an unusual or a frightful sound, and nothalf so saddening as the sound that floated up the stairs: the soundof low, sweet singing-Mark Abrams singing with flute-like voice toher sister Sarah, who was soon, very soon, expected to become hiswife. Leah had heard that voice before, had listened to its melody, attuned to other words, and as she recalled the vanished time, shetrembled, shuddered, with an indefinable terror. 

As the sound of the music ceased, she arose and walked to thewindow. With both hands pressed closely beside her face, so as toexclude every gleam of light from within, she looked steadily out ofthe window. All without was bright, and cold, and beautiful. Whitefleecy clouds drifted about the heavens, like so many phantom barksupon the deep blue sea. 

"It's cold without and cold within, " she muttered, and then, as ifstartled by some sudden resolve, she turned from the window back toa small escritoire, saying:

"Yes, I'll delay no longer. I must answer Lizzie's letter and tellher all. My duties for the coming week will be pressing, allowing meno opportunity for writing, equal to that of the present. "

Then she wrote: "QUEEN CITY, January 20, 185-. 

"MY OWN CHERISHED FRIEND: To-night from my casement I looked outupon the cold, bright world, wrapped in moonlight, and as I gazed atthe far-off misty horizon, the distance called to mind my far-offfriend at Melrose--recalled to mind, too, the fact that your lastwelcome letter has for an unwonted length of time remainedunanswered. Your letter that came on the new year, came as theflowers of spring, always fresh and beautiful. It has been neglectedfrom the inevitable press of circumstances by which I have beensurrounded, which neglect, I feel assured, you will appreciate andforgive, when I have detailed the following facts. 

"My sister Sarah is to be married in a week. This approaching eventhas been the cause of my restricted time, pressing out of sight, andeven out of memory, all letter-writing. 

"Yes, dear Lizzie, the long-expected nuptials are actually about tobe celebrated, and all our household, except myself, are in a feverof excitement and delight. 

"My step-mother is ecstatic over the success of her scheming, andeven condescends to be kind to me, -to me, Lizzie, whom she has solong and so faithfully despised. 

"My father, too, seems happy over this alliance, knowing Mark'sexcellent character and business qualifications, and appreciatingthe connection with the rabbi's family. Mark himself appears happyin the hope of securing Sarah for his wife. But as to Sarah, I canscarcely divine her feelings; she is too young and light-heartedfully to comprehend the step before her. She seems delighted withthe occasion that bestows upon her so many handsome presents; andbeyond this I think she scarcely casts a thought. The marriage willbe solemnized at the synagogue, and the reception held here at home. Mark has given Sarah some elegant gifts, gifts that should be mine. Is it wrong to write those words--words that contain so muchmeaning? It may be; but as you know all, dear Lizzie, I shall noterase them. And this reminds me of something I must tell you, ofanother piece of double-dealing and treachery imposed upon me byRebecca. Some weeks ago, my father's cousin, Baron von Rosenberg, hearing of Sarah's approaching marriage-I have told you of thiscousin before-sent over a box of valuable presents for the children, all of us, including Sarah, of course. Among the articles sent, werean elegant crimson velvet mantle, and a diamond brooch. 'These, 'wrote the baron, 'are for your eldest daughter-Leah I believe. '

"My father gave the letter to his wife, supposing, of course, that Iwould be allowed a perusal of it. But instead she secreted theletter, and in disposing of the gifts, said to me 'Here, Leah, is ahandsome necklace, sent to you by the baron, and this elegant velvetmantle and diamond brooch are for your sister Sarah-weddingpresents. How kind of the baron to remember her so substantially!''Yes, ' said I, 'it was kind, and thoughtful too. I am glad that hehas been so generous. I certainly thank him for his remembrance ofme. ' I had no dream but that she was telling me the truth, norshould I have suspected the deception, but, unfortunately, Ioverheard my father one day say, 'Rebecca, how did Leah like themantle and brooch the baron sent her?'

"'Oh, she thought them beautiful, as they are, ' was the quick reply;'but like a generous girl-there are few such-she begged her sisterto keep them, as suitable bridal gifts from her, as well as tokensof her love. '

"'She's a dear unselfish creature, ' replied my father, with thecredulity of a child; 'I never saw another young person just likeher. She's so deep and hidden in her nature, one cannot easily readher thoughts. I wish sometimes she was more open and confiding; butshe is a darling, for all her reticence. '

"'Yes, and loves Sarah to idolatry, ' was the smooth, well-putrejoinder. 

"This much I heard, dear Lizzie, of the conversation, and then, with a horrified, sickening sensation, I flew away-flew away tosolitude, and communion with myself. 

"I dared not undeceive my father; and as to the gifts my heart criedout, 'Go, vain baubles, go? What are diamonds and velvet to adesolate soul? Go, as Mark Abrams, and many other things rightfullymine, have gone from me--through treachery and fraud. '

"At this dreadful discovery, dear Lizzie, I longed for your trueheart, so warm with sympathy, but it was far, far away, and nomedium of communication between us but the soulless, tearless pen. That was inadequate then; now, the feeling has passed. 

"But I crave your pardon for consuming so much time and space uponmyself and my woes. Forgive me. 

"When the wedding is over I'll write you a full and detailed accountof it all. 

"Did I tell you in my last of Bertha Levy? She is cultivating hervoice in Berlin, and promises to become a marvellous singer, theysay. Would you ever have thought she could be sober long enough tosing even a short ballad? What a girl Bertha was!-real good and kindthough, despite her witchery. 

"Oh, me! do you ever wish, Lizzie, you were a school-girl again atMadam Truxton's? I do. I often recall the song: "'Backward, turnbackward, O Time, in your flight, ' and am always sorrowful that mycry is unheeded by this swift-footed monarch. 

"I see Madam Truxton occasionally. She is always engrossed, as youknow, and the pressing duties to the new pupils exclude from hermind all remembrance of the old ones. Yet I love her, and alwaysshall. 

"I think I hear you asking, 'What of Emile?' and in a few briefwords I can reply. I still see him occasionally, and he stillprofesses his unchanging love for me. Forgive me, Lizzie; pardonwhat may seem in me a weakness, but I must confess it, I believe Ilove Emile. Firmly as I once promised you to shut my heart againsthis overtures of love, I have slowly but surely yielded myresolution, and now I can but frankly confess it. I do not think Ishall ever marry him. I have told him so again and again, and Ibelieve I shall never surrender this resolve. I have never told myfather of Emile's devotion to me. I have not deemed it necessary, asI do not intend to marry him; and, then, I have been afraid to tellhim. I only meet Emile by chance, and but rarely. I know you wouldadvise me not to see him at all, and maybe I will not in the future. Nous verrons. 

"Since I wrote to you last, Kitty Legare has died. She has beenfading, as you know, for a long time with consumption. Dear girl, now she is at rest; and, I think, to be envied. 

"But dear friend, I am drawing my letter to a tedious length. Thestillness of the hour admonishes me to seek repose. So, hastily andwith everlasting love, I bid you good night. "Your own "LEAH. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE days passed on, and the night before the wedding hung its cold, starless gloom over the Queen City-hung as the sable pall above thedead. 

"My dear, " said Mrs. Abrams, as Mark on this evening was preparingto leave his house for that of his affianced, to make the lastnecessary arrangements for the coming ceremony, "I wish you could bewith me to-night. A mother's heart calls for the last evening of herson's free life, claims the last moments of the time when she cancall him exclusively her own. To-morrow, dear boy, you are no longermine. I shall have only a secondary claim upon your love andcompanionship, and must in the future console myself with theknowledge, that in losing a mother my son has gained a wife. "

"O mother, " replied Mark, with a troubled look, "don't speak so. Iam compelled to be at Mr. Mordecai's a little while to night, andalso to call at Crispin's, and see that my boot is stretched, andthen I'll hasten back. Tight boots on a wedding day, mother, willnot do at all, you know, " added Mark playfully, as he stroked thesoft hair that waved back from the oval Jewish face-a pale, gentleface it was. "I'll be back very soon. "

"Brother Mark, isn't you glad my arm is so well? Mother says I maygo to the synagogue, too, to-morrow, and see you married, " said theinnocent little sister, whose lacerated arm still hung in the snowybandage around her neck. 

"Yes, dovey, indeed I am, " replied Mark, bending down beside thefair child, and tenderly caressing her. "If my little Rachel couldnot be there, brother Mark would not consider himself well married. I am only sorry that I haven't had a peep at that vicious dog thathurt my darling so. Never mind, I am still ready and waiting for hisreappearance, and then I'll have revenge. --Good-night, dear mother, I must go; a sweet good-night to you and little Rachel-till I comeback. " The young man stepped out into the cold, dark night, andturned his face toward the elegant home of the Jewish banker. 

"Umph! umph! dis is a hard night for old Peter-cold wind, and nostars. People ought to 'preciate de old carrier, " grunted out ratherthan spoke, a rather short, slightly bent old negro, as he stoodpeering curiously out of the window of the dimly lighted, misty oldprinting-office of the "Queen City Courier. " Then turning around heshuffled toward the door, ejaculating, "Bad night on my rheumatiz;"and continuing, as he descended the well-worn stairs, "de boss justgive me a little of de w'iskey bitters-w'iskey bitters mighty goodfor de rheumatiz. Maybe when dey warm me up good, I won't feel sostiff, and de cold won't pinch so dreadful. Umph! umph! umph! wardnumber two comes fust, " and clutching the bundle of papers moretightly, and gathering again the folds of the well-worn gray blanketaround him, the old carrier struck out, as briskly as the cold andhis stiffened limbs would allow, on his accustomed beat. 

It was three o'clock in the morning, and for an hour he trudged onand on, past block and square, casting the welcome householdvisitor, "The Courier, " right and left as he went. Suddenly hestopped a moment to listen. "Dere, it's four o'clock, " he said, asold St. Luke's rang out the hour. "I'll soon be through dis ward, an' in time for the up-town gentry too, as dey takes breakfast late. Old Peter has a long round, but he don't mind dat, so he gits demoney. Den all de quality knows old Peter, and how de hats come offand de ladies smile when de New Year comes round again. Humph!Jingo! How stiff dis knee! When old Peter dead and gone, nebber findanodder carrier like him. Peter nebber stop for nuffin, de rain norde shine, de northers nor de anything-umph! not even de rheumatiz. "Here the old man cut short his soliloquy, stooping down to rub theafflicted member that so retarded his progress, and whose pain wasan ever-present reminder that his agility and youth were goneforever. Erecting himself, he began again, "Dis bin a putty hardwinter on mos' anybody, 'specially on de rheumatiz. But for dew'iskey bitters of de boss, old Peter wouldn't be as spry is he is. Boss says, 'W'iskey bitters mighty good for anything, ' an' I believehim. Here it's Jinnivery, an' the winter mos' gone, an' therheumatiz will work out of me by next winter, an' then I'll be asgood as new again. " By this time the old carrier stood over againstthe Citadel Square, and halting for a moment in his hobbling march, he looked right and left, backward and forward, and then said, "Guess I'll save a block in going to Vine street, by cutting throughthe Citadel Square-so I will. The gates are always locked at thishour, but I know where I can slip through under a loose plank, papers and all. " So saying, he hobbled across the street, found theopening, and doubling himself up, went through it in a trice. Thentrudging on, he bethought himself again of the sovereign remedy forall his ailments, "rheumatiz" especially, and he continued withevident delight:

"Next winter w'iskey bitters will be good too, and de boss will beshure to have 'nuff for us both. I 'spec' the boss teched wid derheumatiz. I'll-Hallo! w'at's dat? Jes' git out ob my way, olegrunter. Dis ole Peter. "

"Oh, God! help me! come here!" groaned a half audible voice. "Cometo me! help me! help me!"

"O Lordy!" exclaimed old Peter as he jumped back in sudden fright. "Who's dat? What you want? W'at's de matter? I don't like spirits. You can't trick me. I'm the carrier ob de Courier dese five an'twenty year. What you want?"

"O Lord! help me! Come to me, Peter. I know you. I can do no harm. Come, I implore! Come quickly! Reassured by the faint, butimportunate words, old Peter approached the dark object that layupon the ground, scarcely discernible in the dim twilight ofapproaching day. 

"Bend down close to me, Peter. I am dying. I am cold and faint, andwish to say a few words to you. "

"Good God!" and the old negro shuddered as he bent down over theprostrate form before him. 

"Don't you know me, Peter?"

Peter bent closer down. 

"Mass' Mark Abrams, is dis you? What's de matter wid you? Who didit? Who killed you? Tell me; tell me for God's sake. "

"Listen to me, Peter; listen. I am dying-shot in the breast with apistol. "

"Who did it? Who did it? For Heaven's sake, who did it?"

"No one, Peter; be calm; listen to me. It was accidental. I had inthe inside pocket of my coat a small pistol. In passing through hereabout eleven o'clock, walking hastily homeward from Crispin's, Istumbled by some chance, and as I fell the pistol was discharged andhas killed me. Here, take the pistol quick, and run for my father. Be quick, man, quick, that I may, if possible, say farewell. Takethe pistol with you. I am not strong enough to reach it. Be quick. "

Horrified, the old carrier groped on the ground for it, andaccidentally dipped his hand into the pool of blood near the woundedman. 

"The devil? I hate blood? Dis is bad, bad, bad! Mass' Mark! Mass'Mark!" No reply. 

"Mass' Mark! I b'lieve he's dead. I feared so. Mass' Mark!" Still noreply. 

"O Lordy! I'll get away from here. De poor child's dead, an' if I'mseen 'bout here dey may 'cuse me of murder. I can't go an' tellnuffin. Ole Peter's 'fraid. I must git away;" and gathering up hispapers and the blanket again, he left the scene of the tragedy asrapidly as his disabled limbs would allow, feeling as if somefearful ghost were in close pursuit. Unconsciously, he carried thepistol with him, and was many squares away before he sufficientlycollected his bewildered and terrified faculties, to observe thedeadly weapon in his grasp. "What should he do with it?" at onceflashed through his brain, and as the brightening daylight preventedhis returning it to its place beside the victim, he resolved to keepit. He dared not cast it from him. 

As old Peter was too much frightened to reveal the truth concerningthe tragedy, he resolved at once to keep the secret forever withinhis own breast, and as he was guilty of no crime, he had no fears ofthe mystery being revealed. So he went on in the advancing morning, on his long, tedious round of duty, and no single reader that daymissed the "Courier" or suspected the secret that lay hidden in thecarrier's breast. A few hours after the columns of the "Courier" hadbeen carefully scanned, on this January morning, an "Extra" flashedfrom the press, and flooded the Queen City with consternation andmany hearts with woe and lamentation. It ran thus:

"Fearful tragedy! Mysterious assassination! Bridal day turned into aday of mourning and bitter disappointment!

"This morning at an early hour the body of young Mark Abrams wasdiscovered, dead, and lying in a pool of blood near the centre ofthe Citadel Square. How he came to his death is still a mystery, butit was undoubtedly by the hand of an assassin. The most terriblefact connected with this sad calamity, is, that the day of theunfortunate man's death was to have been his wedding day. He was tohave married the second daughter of Benjamin Mordecai, Esq. , banker. His body has been removed to the house of his father, the worthyrabbi of Maple Street Synagogue. The burial will take place thisafternoon, at the hour appointed for the wedding ceremony. Seldomhas the Queen City been so shocked; and many heavy hearts willto-day join in the wail of woe that goes up from the strickenfamily. "

Thus the bulletin ran, and surmise, consternation, and sorrow, wereupon the lips of many men, women, and children in the Queen City. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

MELROSE, Lizzie Heartwell's home, was a manufacturing village in thenorthern part of a Southern State. A more picturesque or invitingspot is seldom found. It crowned the summit of one of a range oflong, sloping hills, that stretched back from a river, as a diademcrowns the brow of a monarch. The snowy houses, nestled amid theclustering foliage, and the carefully trimmed hedge-rows, impartedto the place an English air of aristocratic seclusion. The clearsilver river, too, which turned the spindles of the far-famedfactories, encircled this romantic village as a mother the child ofher love. These factories, that had been in successful operation fornearly a quarter of a century, gave employment to scores of honest, industrious people, that otherwise might have gone scantily clad andmiserably fed, perhaps have perished. 

Mr. Caleb Schuyler, the superintendent and proprietor of thesefactories, was a large-hearted New Englander, who had brought tothis Southern State his native thrift and enterprise, and had spenta useful and comparatively long life in the work of building up andimproving Melrose. Enough intelligence and wealth had gathered thereto make the religious and educational advantages desirable, if notsuperior. The houses were all well kept and attractive, and Melrosewas a charming place to live in, although remote from railways orsteamboats. 

In the eastern part of the village, where the winding road began itsgentle descent to the river, stood a plain, but comfortable andcommodious school-room. It was erected years ago for a "Yankeeschool teacher"; now it was occupied by Lizzie Heartwell, who hadbeen a favorite scholar of that same teacher years before, when shewas a very little girl. Consumption had long since laid that teacherto rest, and time had brought that fair-haired little girl to fillher place. 

Over the bevy of factory-children, and those gathered from thewealthier families too, Lizzie Heartwell now presided with greatdignity and grace, as school-mistress. In this sphere of life, herfaculties of mind, soul, and body, found full scope for perfectdevelopment. Fond of children, loving study, happy always to helpthose desiring knowledge, glad to enlighten the ignorant, LizzieHeartwell was happy, and useful too, in the work in which she wasemployed. It was now more than three years since Lizzie left MadamTruxton's, and she was now ending the second year of her teaching. It was September. The woods were dying earlier than usual, in thegolden Indian summer. The days were sweet and delicious, and Melrosewas as attractive in its autumn loveliness as it had been in thefreshness of spring. It was toward the close of one of thosecharming September days, when Lizzie Heartwell stepped to the doorof her school-room to watch the descending sun, and to see if shewere detaining the children too long. Instantly her attention wasarrested by the rumbling of the tri-weekly stage-coach, toiling upthe hill before her. For a moment she stood watching its slowapproach, apparently unmindful of the class that was already "inline" upon the floor, eagerly awaiting the last recitation, whichwould set them free. And yet the school-mistress gazed at thestage-coach, which had at last reached the top of the hill, and thehorses, as if under new inspiration, were jogging along in a brisktrot, and were rapidly approaching the school-house. Suddenly theface of the young school-mistress grew pale, and then crimson, asshe caught a glimpse of a face that leaned wearily beside thecoach-door and looked out-a face not unfamiliar, and yet not well-remembered; a handsome, manly face, overshadowed by a militarycap-and like a sudden flash came the thought that she had seen thatface before. Regaining her self-possession, Lizzie turned from thedoor, examined the spelling-class as calmly as ever, commended allfor their perfection in recitation, and with a blessing dismissedthe eager little band for the day. 

"Who was it?" she muttered, as she slowly donned the jaunty hat andher mantle, and mechanically drew on her kid gauntlets, preparatoryto starting homeward. "I have seen that face before, I think, andyet I am not sure. Can it possibly be George Marshall?" she saidslowly. "If so, time has changed him, yet only to improve, I think. How the thought of ever seeing George Marshall again startles me!But I am foolish, very foolish, to imagine such an absurd thing. Oh, no, he will never come to Melrose. I wish he would, " and she begansinging a low love-ditty half-unconsciously, half-fearfully, as shetrudged homeward. 

An hour later, and a perfumed billet-doux bore to the widow'scottage the compliments of Captain George H. Marshall, U. S. A. Hehad, indeed, come to Melrose at last. 

Obtaining a limited leave of absence from the army, he had come hometo visit his kindred, and his friend at Melrose. The time wasnecessarily short. Only one week could he spend at Melrose-one shortseven days-days crowned with a golden halo in the after years. Tothe young school-mistress these were days bright with hope andhappiness, bright as the effulgent sun that ushered them in, one byone. Days, too, that she parted with regretfully, as each one's sunwent down. Six of these golden days were passed-passed in pleasantconverse, in singing, in reading, in hoping, and the seventh wasdrawing nigh. 

"Mr. Marshall, " said Lizzie, on the evening of the sixth day, "willyou leave Melrose without seeing my school, and telling me what youthink of my avocation?"

"Certainly not, if you will allow me the pleasure, and to-morrow isthe only time I have left, " he replied. 

"Well, then, come to-morrow if you like, and see me enthroned in mykingdom. My school opens at eight o'clock, for in this country weteach a long, honest day. Our people know nothing of the five-hoursystem, " she replied merrily. 

"Then, Miss Heartwell, if you will grant me the pleasure, I'll callearly in the morning, and we'll stroll by the river-side. I musttell you further of my coming to Melrose, and then I'll see you inyour field of labor. Will you grant me this last request?" the youngman demanded nervously. 

"I will, with pleasure, " she replied. "I'll be ready by seveno'clock, and I'll show you the place where tradition says an Indianmaiden jumped from the bluff into her lover's waiting skiff below, to elude her angry father's pursuit, and lost her life on therocks. "

"That was sad! 'Love's sacrifice' indeed, at a terrible cost!"replied the young man thoughtfully. "I trust I'll be more successfulsome day than the Indian lover was. "

Lizzie trembled, and turning her eyes upon a vase of wild-flowersthat adorned the simple table, replied confusedly, "Poor Wenona!hers was a sad fate. "

"To-morrow, at ten o'clock, the stage-coach leaves. I can see you awhile in the morning, can I? So I'll bid you good night, " and GeorgeMarshall arose and extended his hand. 

"Good night!" murmured Lizzie, with a sinking sensation at herheart, and a dimness of vision that almost betrayed tears. 

Night passed, and morning came-bright, clear, fresh morning; and theyoung girl was awake with the dawn. 

"Ah me!" she sighed, as she arranged the shining curls before hersimple mirror, "this is the last day. I am almost sorry he ever cameto Melrose. I was so interested in my school before; now, I fearI'll be always thinking of the army. Yes, I'll put on this blueribbon-he likes blue, he admired the blue 'forget-me-not' I wore atMadam Truxton's the first night I ever met him. And these violetsI'll pin on my bosom, they are blue too. I am a silly girl, I fear;and yet there is a strange aching at my heart. Can it be--Alas! Icannot speak it. Seven o'clock! He's coming! yes, he is here! I hearhim on the step. "

George Marshall looked pale and troubled, as he bade adieu to Mrs. Heartwell and stepped forth from her neat white cottage on this coolSeptember morning, accompanied by the young school-mistress. Histhoughtful face bore the impress of a sleepless night, and he wastaciturn and abstracted. By his side Lizzie chatted away, as thoughbribed to dispel the gloom and silence that threatened to surroundthem-chatted as though no other feeling than gayety filled her ownfearful heart-chatted till a curve in the white sandy road broughtthem in view of the river, and under a cluster of wide-spreadingwater-oaks that overshadowed a broken mass of stone. 

"Miss Heartwell, " said George abruptly, "sit here beside me, onthese moss-covered rocks, before we go any farther, and let me tellyou something I've kept unspoken long enough. Will you?"

Lizzie made no reply, but timidly followed where he led, and satbeside him on the lichen-covered stones. As George Marshall lookedup, a tear stole from her true blue eyes, and moved by this evidenceof emotion, he said with deep-toned pathos:

"Miss Heartwell, I love you, and you know it. If it were not a sinagainst the great God, I would say I adore you. May I not hope thatthose crystal tears betray the existence of a kindred love for me?Nothing but love, unalloyed and pure, love for yourself, everbrought me to Melrose. May I go away with the assurance that my loveis returned, and bearing in my heart the hope to come again someday, and claim you as my wife? May I?"

The tears still flowed from the pure fountain of Lizzie's innocent, tender heart, and her head bowed as gently as a lily in the gale, but she answered firmly, sweetly, truly, "Yes, I love you too, and Ipromise, with God's blessing, one day to become your wife. "

"Wipe away those tears then, and let me see, in the depth of yourinnocent eyes, that your promise is solemn and unchanging. "

"As my soul is undying, I am in earnest; and as Heaven is true, Ishall be faithful to your love. Never doubt me. Here, take theseinnocent flowers, modest children of the wild-wood-these violets, asa pledge of my unfeigned love;" and unclasping the golden brooch, she let the delicate flowers fall into the open hand of her lover. 

Gathering up the offerings of affection, George Marshall clasped theslender hand that gave them, and imprinting a fervent kiss upon it, said, "God bless you, my darling, and take this as the seal of mybenediction. "

When the tri-weekly coach rolled out of Melrose on that charmingautumn day, and passed the schoolhouse of the maiden, the sigh shecast after it was not without hope, and the one the lover waftedback breathed a promise to come again some day, not far off, andtake her away from that school-room forever. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE terrible tragedy that had filled so many hearts withconsternation, the untimely and mysterious death of Mark Abrams, hadlong since been numbered with the events of the past. In the Hebrewburial ground, in a suburb of the Queen City, his mortal remainswere at rest. Months ago, the grass had sprung, and the flowers ofaffection blossomed above his pulseless bosom. Upon the seventh dayof every week since that dreadful January, the unhappy father andmother had turned their faces devoutly toward the city of theirfathers, and offered their fervent prayers. Yet no abatement ofsorrow had time brought to the mother's wounded, bleeding heart. Wearily, and often despairingly, she longed for that untried, unknown life beyond, where she dimly hoped for a reunion with herlost son. 

Sarah Mordecai, young, thoughtless, volatile, in the death of herlover was disappointed, but not heartbroken. Recovering from theshock of her sorrow with the buoyancy and elasticity of youth, herrepinings scarcely reached beyond the period that brought blossomsto the resting-place of the dead. Let no one censure this youngheart that, by reason of its nature, could not sit enshrouded ingloom and sorrow, nor shudder at the thought that when the summercame, with warmth and brightness, she was as light of heart as thebirds that carolled in the garden around her spacious home. 

Not such the mourning of her disappointed mother. From day to day, since the failure of her cherished hope, regret and disappointmenthad rankled in her bosom with consuming force. She despised the fatethat foiled her plans and purposes, and left the object of herhatred still uncrushed. Leah, with her beauty and unaffected grace, was again to be triumphed over. Again she might not be sosuccessful. Rebecca was cold, cruel, and false-Leah fearful, dispirited, and miserable. Alas! poor Leah Mordecai. EMILE LEGRANDE'S DIARY. 

"August 15. -So sure as my name is Emile, I believe I shall succeedin my endeavor to marry the Jewess. She is beautiful! She receivesmy attentions more kindly now than she ever did before, and sheconfesses that she loves me truly. That's 'half the battle. ' Sheseems very unhappy at times, yet only once did she ever hint to methat her life was aught but a summer's day for brightness. I oncethought she loved Mark Abrams, and I hated him for it; but that's ofno use now. 'Dead men tell no tales. '

"August 20. -Whew! how mother did rave to-day when I intimated that Imight possibly marry Leah Mordecai! She asked indignantly what I'designed to do with Belle Upton, a girl of eminent respectabilityand an equal of the Le Grande family?' I mildly suggested that Icould not love such a 'scrap of a woman as Belle Upton was; and ifshe was in love with me, it was without a cause. ' I have paid hersome attention, but only to please mother and Helen. She's tooeffeminate, if she is so very aristocratic-not half so handsome as'ma belle Juive. ' Oh! those dreamy eyes! They haunt me day andnight. I believe I am sick with love!"

"August 30. -This has been a memorable month to me. Last night, in thestarlight, as I walked home with Leah from the Battery, she promisedto marry me; yes, actually to marry me! Said she was unhappy athome-I wonder why-and would marry me in self-defence, if from noother cause. A tear stood in her dark eyes as she said, with stern, hoarse voice, 'If you love me, Emile, truly love me, and will befaithful to me, I will forsake all others and marry you. ' Then shemade me swear it--swear it there, in the face of the blue heavens andthe glittering stars. I tremble when I think of my parents'displeasure, but then I love the girl, and shall fulfil my vow, evenunto death. In a month I shall be twenty-five years old, and beforeanother birth-day rolls around, after this one, I shall be a marriedman-married to the girl I love, Leah Mordecai, the Jewess. I wonderwhat the world will say. But I don't care; love knows no barriers. When my plans are a little more defined, I shall mention the matterseriously to my father. Mother will not hear to it, I know. Andthen; if he is willing, all well; if he is not willing, all wellstill. I shall marry her. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

LEAH MORDECAI sat alone in the southern balcony of her father'shouse one night in this same memorable August, the events of whichwere so fully recorded in Emile's diary-sat alone enjoying the warmsilver moonlight that flooded all the world about her-sat alone, thinking, dreaming, fearing, vaguely hoping. Suddenly the sound ofher mother's voice reached her from an adjoining room, and arrestedher attention. Involuntarily she listened. "Yes, dear husband, Leahis anxious to go-unhappy even, at the fear of being denied. "

"You surprise me, Rebecca, " replied the fond husband and father; "Inever dreamed that Leah desired to visit Europe. She has nevermentioned it to me. "

"No, nor will she ever. She fears your displeasure, shrinks frombetraying a desire to be separated from you, even for a short periodof time; but still she longs to go. Ever since Bertha Levy went toBerlin, she has cherished a secret desire to go, too. You well knowthat music is the passion of her soul, and Leah longs for culturewhich she cannot obtain in this country. "

"Dear child!" exclaimed the father, "she shall be gratified in herdesires, and study in the fatherland as long as she chooses. She hasalways been a good, obedient, loving daughter, and deserves to berewarded. " Then he added, after a moment's pause, and withill-concealed emotion, "Yes, my daughter is always obedient andkind, yet a shade too sober for one so young; but her mother wasalways thoughtful, dear woman, and I suppose it's the child'sinheritance. " Mr. Mordecai sighed. And Rebecca, discerning the driftof his thought, recurred quickly to the subject, saying:

"Well, my husband, what arrangement can you make for Leah's going?Of course you cannot accompany her. "

"That's easily done, " he replied. "Every week there are personsgoing direct to Europe from this very city; and, by the way, myfriend Solomon Stettheimer expects to go soon to Wirtemberg, to lookafter an estate of a deceased relative, and I could safely intrustLeah to his care. I shall write at once to my cousin, the baron, andhave her placed under his care. "

"That's a wise plan, my husband, and will give Leah great joy. Makeit known to her as though it was only a pleasant surprise you wereoffering her, not mentioning the fact that I acquainted you with herwishes. "

"So I will, kind little heart, good little woman that you are, "replied Mr. Mordecai affectionately, as he stroked Rebecca on thearm. 

Leah heard no more. Shocked and terrified at this treacherousplotting, she stole softly from the balcony, passed through the sidegarden, entered the house by the rear door, and hastened away to herown chamber up stairs. 

"Merciful Heaven! what a lie, to deprive me of my father's love, andsend me from my home, among unknown friends, so far away! I cannot, cannot go; I cannot leave my father, even though it kill me toremain, " gasped the young girl, in tears and bitterness of heart, asshe sank helpless and hopeless upon the snowy bed that stood, amonster ghost, in the moonlit chamber. For hours she lay in silenceand in sorrow, and when sleep came at length, the spoken words ofher slumber but revealed the burden of her heavy heart in theoft-repeated words, "I cannot, cannot, will not go. "

CHAPTER XX. 

A WEEK passed. No word concerning the projected journey had beenspoken by her father, and the young girl was beginning to hope thatit might have been only the burden of an idle conversation, not aproject really determined upon by either parent. But early onemorning, as Mr. Mordecai caught the sound of music floating out fromthe drawing-room-such tender music-he laid aside the paper he wasreading, and slipped softly toward the room whence came the sounds. This sudden and unusual manifestation of musical skill, this morningoutburst of melody, astonished the father, and his approach to thedrawing-room was as much from surprise as for the pleasure of anearer enjoyment of his daughter's skilful performance. Unconsciousof any approaching footstep, Leah sat, pale and statuesque, at theelegant instrument, and drew forth, at intervals, strains ofwitching melody. The absorbed expression of her emotionless facetold plainly that music was the one channel through which thepent-up feelings of her heart found an outlet. How often is thisdivine art the unsyllabled expression of a miserable, or anoverjoyed heart. 

"My daughter, " at length said Mr. Mordecai tenderly, after standingfor some moments unobserved behind Leah. 

"Is it you, father?" she replied, turning suddenly around, "I didnot hear you come in. "

"No, my love, I came softly that I might not disturb you; came tothank you for the sweet music that in this early morning sounds-soheavenly, I will say. Play me something else, as sweet and tender asthe sonata you have just finished, and then come here and sit besideme; I have something to tell you. "

"With all my heart, father, " Leah replied, rising and turningthrough a mass of music. "Shall it be a song, father?"

"By all means, my dear. "

And drawing forth the well-worn pages of Beethoven's "Adelaide, " theyoung girl reseated herself, and sang. 

The tender words of her father, as well as the ominous ones, "I havesomething to tell you, " startled Leah, and caused the chords of loveand fear to vibrate wildly within her bosom. Yet she concealed herdeeper feelings, and sang-beautifully, bravely, sweetly-the tender, ravishing love-ditty which she knew was her father's favorite. Themelody died away, the chords relaxed and hushed their sweetness, andLeah turned toward her father, awaiting the words of commendationthat he always awarded to her performances. But he was silent. Seated upon a divan near by, Mr. Mordecai presented a strikingappearance, which Leah at once observed. He was attired in hiscrimson morning-gown, adorned with golden bordering, and wore abecoming scarlet cap carelessly adjusted upon his head; a goldentassel hung from the cap beside the thoughtful face, and thehalf-snowy beard which spread like a silken fringe upon his bosom. His head was half-averted, and the sharp black eyes seemed to restimmovably upon some central figure on the luxurious tapestry. He wasso absorbed that he heeded not the cessation of the music, nor washe aroused from his abstraction till Leah seated herself beside himand said:

"Now, father, I am ready to hear you. "

"Forgive me, daughter, if I seem unmindful of your charming song;but thoughts for your welfare filled my reverie. "

"What thoughts, father?" Leah asked fearfully. 

"Well, listen to me. I have planned for you, my daughter, a mostdelightful and profitable journey. Assured that you possess musicaltalent of the highest order, I desire that talent to be most highlycultivated. The culture you need cannot be obtained in this country;so I have written to my cousin, Baron von Rosenberg, to have youbecome a member of his distinguished family for a time. Under hiscare and direction, your studies can be pursued to the greatestadvantage. What do you think of the arrangement?"

As Mr. Mordecai was unfolding what he supposed would be a pleasantsurprise to his daughter, he marked the serious, even painedexpression of her face, and wondered at it. 

Leah was silent. Then, with an air of surprise and disappointment, her father repeated the inquiry. "What do you think of my plan? Youcannot possibly dislike it, my daughter!"

"Saxony is a great way off from you, dear father-I believe the baronlives in Saxony. I do not think I could be happy so far away fromyou, the only living human being who loves me truly in this coldworld. " The last words were spoken bitterly. 

"Your words astonish me, my child; they savor of ingratitude, andare strange words for your lips. What can you mean?"

Leah trembled that so much had escaped her hitherto silent lips, betraying even faintly the true feeling of her heart; and repressingthe words that would have followed had her father not offered hisrebuke, she replied quickly:

"Forgive me, dear father, if I seem ungrateful; perhaps I do notappreciate the love I enjoy; but I do not wish to go so far awayfrom you. And you will not send me, will you?"

"Never trouble about me, my daughter; go and stay a year, if nolonger; that's a short period of time, when it is past. Go for theimprovement you will get. Go and become distinguished, my child;"and the ambitious parent's eye kindled with a new light at thethought. 

Leah made no reply, and the father, releasing the delicate hand hehad so tenderly held, said again and again, "Never mind me, child, never mind me; a year's a short time. Go and become distinguished. "

The banker went to his counting-house that day, elated with theproject for his daughter's pleasure and improvement, little dreamingwhere, or for what purpose, this plan was conceived; and Leah spentits lonely hours in sorrow and in tears. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

LE GRANDE'S DIARY. 

"October 3. 

"I HAVE been in such a maze of suspense and bewilderment for amonth, dear Journal, that I have neglected you; to-night I'llrecall, if I can, some of my lost days. No, I can't. It makes nodiference; they were only days of trouble. I am perplexed to deathto know the result of the baron's letter. He wrote, of course, andurged that Mr. Mordecai send Leah at once to him. And thepreparations are going rapidly forward for her departure. Every dayI say, 'Darling, stay with me, ' and her father says, 'Daughter, youmust go. ' 'We shall see, in the end, what the end will be. '

"October 15. -To-night, dear Journal, I make the most triumphantrecord of my life. Tell it not, breathe it not, to a mortal soul!Leah, my darling, has promised to marry me, and not go to Europe, asher father had determined. She told me last night, when I met her inthe park, that her mind was made up. She would not go. She did notwish to go, and to marry me was her only alternative. She loves me, though, and we shall be happy, I am sure. My parents are bitterlyopposed, and hers will be, to such a union, but we will be married, for all that. Helen alone is in my confidence; she has none of thatpride that revolts at Leah's being a Jewess. To-morrow I leave forHavana, where I go with papers from our banking house to a branchhouse in that city. If I am successful in making my businessarrangements, as I feel assured I shall be, then all will be well. Ican only remain two days, as the day for Leah's embarkation is not afortnight off. My mother and father know nothing of the businessthat takes me away, yet I have not deceived them. But, Journal, goodnight. 

"October 28. -Home again from Havana-home with bounding heart andglowing hopes. I admire that fine City of the Antilles almost asmuch as I do my beloved, native Queen City. I shall enjoy my newhome, I know. How could I do else than enjoy it? With a satisfactorysalary in our branch house, and a lovely young wife, a heathen mightwell be happy. Now, old Mordecai can keep his gold, if he likes, andny father can do the same. The opposition has driven me to rely moreimplicitly upon myself, thank the fates. I shall be able to 'paddlemy own canoe. ' Leah looks something like those Spanish beauties, only she's a trifle sadder in expression. I trust she'll be happy inher new home, amid Cuban bloom and under azure skies. Heaven granther an unclouded life. I am delirious with joy; and for fear ofcommitting too much to your keeping, Journal, I'll stop writing. Adieu. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

"AUNT BARBARA, " said Leah, the day before the proposed departure ofthe vessel that was to bear her away, "will you tell Mingo to leavethe key of the lodge hanging just inside the inner door to-night. Imay be coming in, or going out late, and he need not be disturbed, if he will do that. " These words were addressed to a middle-agedcolored woman, who, with high-turbaned head, moved busily aboutLeah's apartment, folding garments and packing trunks, and sighing, ever and anon, as though enduring heart-felt grief at the prospectof the approaching parting. 

"Yes, dear chile, I'll tell him, if you wish. Dere is not many moretimes for your dear feet to pass in and out of de lodge;" andaccompanying these simple, pathetic words was an outburst of honesttears, that fell upon the tidy white apron which the kind soul heldto her eyes. 

"Will you miss me, Aunt Barbara, when I am gone?" said Leah, deeplymoved by the old colored woman's manifestation of sorrow. 

"Law, chile, God only knows how ole Aunt Barbara will miss you. ButI'll pray de good Lord to keep you safe from harm, when you are sofar away, and bring you back to us again, one day. "

"Suppose I never come back, Aunt Barbara; will you ever forget me?"

The old woman made no reply, but her ponderous frame shookconvulsively, with excessive emotion. Leah then approached thisfaithful friend, and laying her arm around her neck, said tenderly, "Don't cry so, Aunt Barbara, but cheer me with the hope that someday I'll come back to you. " The sound of approaching footsteps inthe hall dried Aunt Barbara's tears, and when she opened the door inresponse to a gentle tap, her face was as placid as a summer lake. 

"Is it you, father? Come in, " said Leah, looking up to meet herfather's eye. 

"Yes, my daughter. Are you ready? Are the trunks packed? Can I doanything more for you?" replied Mr. Mordecai, almost in one breath. 

"Nearly ready, father. Aunt Barbara has about finished the last one, and I am ready to leave you. "

These words, so full of feeling, so sorrowfully spoken, too, struckdeep into the father's heart, and filled him with unspeakableregret. 

"Ready to leave me, daughter, " he reiterated, half petulantly, "Ifear that you do not appreciate, or rather that you misinterpret mymotive in sending you on so grand a journey. How many girls thereare who vainly wish, from day to day, for such advantages as I amoffering you!"

To these words Leah made no reply. And Mr. Mordecai, walkingbackward and forward with restless step across his daughter'sbed-chamber, secretly regretted that he had ever considered theproject for a moment. Then he said, half apologetically, "You shallonly stay a year, my daughter; that is not such a very long time. "

"Maybe I shall never come back, father. But you will love me always, won't you?"

"Hush! hush! child. I do not like your words. They distress me! Ayear is a short time, you know; so don't be foolish. Come, braid upyour hair, arrange your dress, and come down at once into thedrawing-room. I must have some music to-night. "

"With pleasure, dear father, " answered Leah, as cheerfully as theswelling emotion at her heart would allow. Then, in an undertone toherself, she added, "It may be the last time I shall have theprivilege of playing for him in my life. If I were to go to Europe, that wretched woman would devise some plan to keep me there, and soI'll stay with--" the last word she uttered was spoken in a whisper, and scarce escaped her lips. Hastily obeying her father's summous, after arranging a becoming toilet, Leah descended to thedrawing-room, where Mr. Mordecai awaited her. "Father, " said Leahabruptly, as she was turning to her music, "to-day, in looking overa package of papers, I came across the cards of cousin HannahStuyvesant; I had not thought of her for ever so long. Who was itshe married?"

"Oh! A Christian dog! A renegade. Somebody named Bliss, I believe. "

"Did they prosper, father?"

"I'll venture to say not, but I do not know positively. I've knownnothing of her since she so far renounced her people as to marry aChristian. Neither have I desired to know anything of her. "

At these words of Mr. Mordecai-significant words-Leah stationedherself at the instrument, and, with mind absorbed, and thoughts faraway from the music, she performed mechanically piece after piece, as her father would request. The tea-bell at last summoned thefamily to the evening meal, and encircling his daughter with hisarm, Mr. Mordecai led the way to the waiting repast. This was thelast evening meal of the banker's family, unbroken. Yet who couldhave said so on that memorable evening in the long ago?

CHAPTER XXIII. 

NIGHT gathered around the Queen City with dark and sombre fold, after the chilly October day previous to the one appointed for LeahMordecai's departure for Europe-a night whose ominous gloom seemedto pervade the innermost apartment of the banker's home. It was latebefore Mr. Mordecai could spare his daughter from his presence, andgive the good-night kiss, his usual benediction before theyseparated for slumber. Even the wily Rebecca said good night now ina tender tone, and gave Leah a gracious smile as she ascended thestairs for the last time. "It is the last, " thought she, "for many along day, maybe forever, and I can smile in sincerity. Once gone, I'll see to it that she never comes again. Aha! I am happy now, andcan smile in joy and truth. "

Once more within her quiet chamber, Leah locked the door and stood amoment with frightened face gazing furtively around the room. Allwas silent. The beating of her own wild heart was all the sound sheheard. Then sinking down from actual weakness, she sat a moment asif summoning the last spark of courage in her timid, fearful souland said, "Yes, it is a dreadful alternative, but I am driven to it. If I obey my father, and go to Europe, I know I shall not return formany years, if ever. If I am to be separated from my father, itshall not be by that woman's scheming. She has devised this plan tosend me from my home, and she shall be disappointed. I am assuredthat Emile loves me, yet I should never have married him had I notbeen forced to do so-simply because he is not a Jew. But as it is, Itake the step deliberately, firmly resolved to abide theconsequences, be they good or evil. Yes, I am resolved to take thisfirst step in disobedience to my father's wishes. I cannot help it. It has caused me terrible suffering to reach this decision, butcircumstances press me to it. Now, it is irrevocable. God forgiveme, if I cause my father sorrow! He knows how I love and serve him, and Heaven knows how cruelly I have been dealt with. But time ispassing. I must write a last, fond letter to my dear Lizzie; tellher of this final, desperate step in my life, and beg that her love, so long tried, may follow me still through the untried life thatlies before me, be it a life of sunshine or of shadow. 

"Oh! the thought is dreadful. Let me see. Now the hour is eleven. Emile will come at twelve. I must hasten;" and rising from herrecumbent posture, Leah replaced the watch within her bosom, andseating herself at the escritoire, wrote a last, loving letter tothe friend of her school-days. This she dropped into her pocket, that she might post it at the lodge. Then she wrote, with tremblinghand and faltering heart, a farewell message to her beloved father;and she was done. In a small portmanteau she had carefully packedthe few things requisite for her clandestine journey. Thewell-filled trunks were safely locked, and the keys hanging idlyupon the ring in her work-basket. "These trunks, " she murmured toherself, as she glanced around the room preparatory to leaving it, "will descend to my sister, or go to Europe, or, maybe, will bedestroyed. I shall never use their contents. Dear Aunt Barbara'scareful packing was all to no purpose, had she only known it. KindAunt Barbara! Now, one thing more remains to be done. I must have mymother's miniature before I quit my father's house, perhaps forever. Aunt Barbara has secured the key of the cabinet for me, and it liessecreted in one of the drawers. Yes, Rebecca has kept it from me fornearly five years. How I burn with anger yet, to think of the cruellie that took from me the only gift I ever valued in my life! Thatperfidious bosom shall never feel the pressure of that precious, jewelled face again. No, in heaven's name, I will not leave withoutit!"

"Hush! the citadel clock strikes the quarter to twelve! Dear oldroom! Chair, bed, books, pictures-all, farewell!"

The house below was silent. The lights had been darkened for anhour. With stealthy step along the upper hall, and silent footfallon the stairway, the cloaked and hooded figure of Leah approachedthe sleeping apartment of her father and his wife. The sound ofheavy breathing betokened heavy slumber, as she silently turned thedoor-knob and stood within the chamber. Reassured by this sound, sheglided toward the cabinet, and noiselessly adjusting the key, turnedit gently in the lock. The white, delicate finger stole softly aboutthe first smoothly polished drawer, to find it empty. Then one andanother underwent, in quick succession, the same noiselessinspection, till the fourth and last drawer was reached; and thatone yielded up the coveted treasure. Hastily placing it in herbosom, she closed the drawer, and then glided out as softly as shehad glided into the room. On the threshold she cast back one fond, lingering look at the dimly outlined figure of her father, as he laybefore her in unconscious slumber. "Heaven ever shield him, " shewhispered softly; and passed on-on and out beyond the heavily-boltedfront door-out forever! In the starlight, chill and faint, she foundherself, with trembling limbs and trembling heart, and for a momentsat down on the cold stone step to rally her failing strength andcourage before she sought the lodge. At the sound of approachingwheels she arose, and walked with rapid step to the lodge, reachingit just as a coach drew up before it. 

"Is it you, Emile?" said Leah softly, as the lodge door opened and amanly form appeared. 

"Yes, darling. Thank fortune, your courage has not failed you. Ihave been feverish with anxiety and impatience for hours. Are youready, dear?"

At these words Leah trembled, and faltered "Yes. "

"Well, I thought it best to bring the minister with me, and so myfriend Bishop Leveret is in the carriage. Suppose we have theceremony performed here; then there can be no possibledisappointment or danger. Are you afraid?"

"What have I to fear now, when I have gone so far? I abide now byyour wishes in all matters, henceforth and forever. I am ready. "

In a moment the bishop was summoned. By the light of a dimly burninglantern, he drew forth the Prayer Book, and read the impressivemarriage ceremony of his church. The responses were solemnlyuttered, the benediction invoked, and at that midnight hour, in thestillness of the porter's lodge, Emile Le Grande and the youngJewess were pronounced "man and wife. " Driving quickly to the vesselthat was ready to depart for the tropical port with the firstappearance of the morning sun, Emile soon safely ensconced his bridein the comfortable cabin, and with a feeling of joy, tinged onlywith a shadowy apprehension, he bade adieu to the kind bishop, whohad accompanied them thither. 

As the morning sun rose, bright and ruddy, from its eastern bed, thevessel's gun, giving the signal for departing, sounded beyond thefoaming bar, and the newly wedded lovers were adrift, alike upon theocean of life and upon the blue expanse that surrounded them-adriftto suffer a dismal shipwreck, or to anchor safely within some remoteharbor of love and security. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

ANXIOUS and nervous from the expected sorrow of the coming day, Mr. Mordecai rose early from his couch of restless slumber. Restlesslyhe walked the library floor backward and forward, awaiting theappearance of his daughter Leah. At length he said to his wife, asshe summoned him to the morning meal, "It's very late. I wonder whyLeah does not come down. I'll just step to her room, and see if sheis ready; fatigue and anxiety may have caused her to sleep laterthan usual this morning. I'll join you in the breakfast-room in amoment. "

After a moment had elapsed, Mr. Mordecai stood gently tapping at hisdaughter's chamber door. There was no response. He gently opened it. The room was vacant. Not a sound or a voice greeted his entrance. Stiff and well-arranged, the elegant furniture stood mutely againstthe cold, cheerless walls. The ominous tidiness of the desertedbed-chamber bespoke a fearful story. The father stood for a momentin amazement, silently surveying the apartment, his heart halftrembling with a vague fear; then he said, in a hoarse, frightenedtone, "Leah, my daughter, where are you?" There came no reply, butthe faint echo of his whispered words, "Where are you?"

Stepping forward softly into the room, he paused again, and thenwith slow, uncertain step approached the casement that looked outupon the front garden. There was nothing without but the sunshineand the breeze, and the passing crowd already beginning to throngthe streets. Again he turned, with anxious heart, away from thecrowd without, to the deserted room within. "Where's my daughter?Leah, dear Leah, where are you?" A folded scrap of paper upon theescritoire caught his eye, and springing forward he seized it, halfhopefully, half fearfully, and tremblingly unfolded it. These arethe words it contained:

"OWN DEAREST FATHER: Can you, will you ever forgive your disobedientLeah? I shudder when I think of you, reading these lines in themorning, when I shall be far away from your loving embrace! But, dear father, you know I did not desire to go to Saxony, so far awayfrom you; fearing, yes, even knowing that circumstances would ariseto prevent my return. I cannot explain my meaning, dear father, forfear of imperilling your happiness. I prefer to live on, as I havedone for years, with the secret of my sorrow-the secret that impelsme to this act of disobedience-hidden in my heart. I fear yourwrath, and yet, dear father, I cannot go. I prefer to remain andmarry the one whom, next to yourself, I love above all mankind-EmileLe Grande. Yes, dear father, when your eyes peruse these lines, Ishall be his wife, and far away on my journey to our distant home. He loves me, and I love him, yet more than once have I refused hislove, in deference to your teachings, that 'to deny my people and myfaith, by marriage with a Christian, was worse than death, and aneverlasting disgrace. ' Can I hope, then, for your forgiveness, eventhough I seek it on bended knees, dear father? Had I been allowed toremain at home, I never should have married him, certainly not inthe clandestine manner I propose. I flee to the love and protectionof Emile, as an alternative to a dreadful fate. Oh! pity and forgiveme, father; love me, even though I bring sorrow to your tender, loving heart. In my new home, I shall watch and wait for sometidings, some missive like a white-winged dove, bearing me a singleword of love and remembrance from my beloved father. If it comesnot, alas! ah me! you may always know there's a sorrow in my heartthat no amount of happiness or prosperity can ever eradicate-adarkness that no sunshine can ever dispel. 

"And now again, and lastly, my father, I pray that the blessing ofthe great God of Israel may ever rest upon your venerable head; andwill you not, too, invoke His blessing to descend upon the head ofyour unworthy and unhappy child? Dear, dear, precious father, nowadieu, a long tearful adieu, till I receive your blessing. "Sorrowfully, your own "LEAH. "

Stupefied and amazed, Mr. Mordecai scarcely realized the import ofthe words that his flashing eye devoured, till the familiarsignature was reached. Then, as if a flood of light had burst uponhis blinded vision, came the dreadful revelation; involuntarily heexclaimed, "Eternal God! It cannot be! It is not possible, that mychild has fled from me! Gone with a Christian dog, to become hiswife; seduced by his honeyed words from the embrace of my love tothat of his faithless heart! Torn from my home to follow thewanderings of a villain! Oh, God! Oh, heaven! It cannot be! It mustnot be! I swear, by Israel, it shall not be! Oh my child! mydaughter, my own precious Leah? Where art thou? Where hast thoufled, my daughter?"

In frenzy Mr. Mordecai smote his breast, tore his silvery locks, andbowed in grief as the fatal letter fell from his trembling hand. Thedepths of his sorrow were stirred, and the tears that flowed fromhis burning heart left the fountain dry and shrivelled. Then, as thecalm succeeds the storm, so, when this fierce tempest of emotion waspassed, Mr. Mordecai regathered his strength, summoned the forces ofhis pride, revenge, and hatred, dispelled all traces of his sorrow, steeled himself for the duty before him, and with a heart of stonein a bosom of adamant, took up the letter and descended the stairsto the waiting family below. Untasted before them was the morningmeal. With wild look and emphatic step Mr. Mordecai entered thebreakfast-room, and stood before the family holding the letter aloftin his trembling hand. "See here, " said he, with a ringing voice, "read here the story of a child, that sought to break an agedfather's heart. But hear me first. Hear this my oath. This heartshall not break, I swear it shall not! Leah has gone-fled with aChristian dog, to become his wife. Read it for yourselves when I amgone; but hear me, you that remain. Sarah and Frederick. My blessingshall never rest upon her, living or dying. As she has chosen tobring sorrow upon the gray hairs of her father, so may God raintrouble upon her disobedient head. May her children wander, uncircumcised dogs, friendless, and neglected-as she has neglectedme-upon the face of the earth, ever seeking bread, yet feelingconstant hunger! Despised of her people, and rejected of herpeople's God, may she ever feel the need of a friend, and yet findnone! Her disobedience is cursed forever, so I swear it by the Godof Israel! Mark my words, and remember my wrath!" he concluded, looking fiercely into the eyes of the two children who sat silentbefore him. "Read this for yourselves; and then burn it, and scatterthe ashes to the winds. " No one made reply to that outburst ofimplacable, burning rage, that so consumed the father's heart. Theyhad never seen him in such a frenzy before. Mr. Mordecai thenhurriedly left the house, and passing Mingo, at the porter's lodge, went out without a nod of recognition. Urbanely bowing and smiling, Mingo let his master pass, wondering at this singular breach of hisaccustomed politeness. 

As the lodge door closed after Mr. Mordecai had passed out, Mingobethought him of something, and hastily pursuing his master, said:

"Here, master, is this your yourn?"

"What?" asked the master morosely. 

"This book, sir; I found it in the lodge. "

Mechanically, Mr. Mordecai took it from the servant, and placed itin the inner pocket of his coat, and then passed on without a word. In the house, all were startled, all dismayed, at the disclosure inthe letter; all, save Rebecca, were filled with sadness. She felt noregret. The brother and sister moved silently and sorrowfully aboutthe house, and in and out of the vacated chamber, hardly realizingthat their gentle sister had indeed gone. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

MR. MORDECAI had scarcely passed a square from his home, whensuddenly he retraced his steps, and stood again before the lodge. 

"Mingo, " he said sharply, "tell your mistress to send me that cursedletter. Be quick. "

With a dash the nimble slave obeyed the command, and in a momentstood before his master, the letter in his hand, bowing and smilingwith his usual politeness. 

Taking the letter, Mr. Mordecai crushed it in his hand, then placedit in his breast pocket, as he again started forward toward hisbanking-house. If he passed man, woman, child, friend, acquaintance, or kinsman in that morning's walk, he knew it not; for the tumult ofpassion that stirred his soul obliterated for the time everyrecollection but that of the terrible sorrow that had befallen him. In due time he reached the dingy brown banking-house, and stoodirresolutely for a moment upon the well-worn stone steps. He placedthe ponderous key within the lock, but the hand seemed powerless toturn its massive bolt; and for a moment he stood with thoughtful, determined eye resting upon the pavement. A moment more, and then hequickly withdrew the key, dropped it into his pocket, and brisklyretraced his steps for square after square, and then abruptly turnedinto the well-known street where stood the office of thedistinguished Le Grande. 

It happened that Mr. Mordecai approached the office from onedirection, as Judge Le Grande himself approached it from another, riding in the light single phaeton in which he usually drove to andfrom his office. 

"Good-morning, Mr. Mordecai. How goes it with you, my friend, thisfine morning?" said the judge pleasantly, as he alighted and threwthe lines to Cato, the driver. --"Tell your mistress she need not sendfor me till five o'clock. I shall be very busy to-day. " Then turningto the banker he looked for a reply. 

"It's no good-morning to me, " replied the banker fiercely. "Thenight has brought devilish work to my home. "

"What do you mean, my friend?" was the judge's quiet reply. "Whathas the night done?"

"Played the devil! Don't you try to trifle with my sorrow. That sonof yours has already wrought me injury enough. Don't you attempt tomock me. I warn you, Le Grande, I warn you!"

Astonished by these mysterious words of the Hebrew, Judge Le Grandegravely assured Mr. Mordecai that he knew nothing of the troublethat had befallen him, and repeatedly asked, "What has my son done?"

"Done? Alas! he has done that which would to God I could undo!" wasthe reply, uttered angrily and savagely. "But as I cannot undo it, Ishall curse it-curse it from the depths of my soul! He has marriedmy daughter? Stolen her-taken her away in secret from my house, andthey have wisely fled from my presence!"

"Married your daughter!" ejaculated the judge, the truth faintlydawning on him. "Surely that's a mistake. "

"Indeed it is a wild mistake; I would to God it were otherwise. "

"By what authority do you make this assertion?" continued Judge LeGrande, evidently aroused by the dawning truth. 

"By the confession of my daughter, left in her room, and written ashort time before her flight. "

"Where is that confession? Let me see it. "

"Here, " replied the banker, drawing the crumpled missive from hispocket. "There, read the mischief for yourself. "

With trembling hand Judge Le Grande smoothed out the crushed paper, and eagerly, fearfully, scanned the contents that were to crush hishopes, as they had crushed those of the banker. Silently, carefully, he read it, read it till the story was told, and then, brushing awaya tear from his eye he said, with emotion:

"Mordecai, forgive her! Forgive her, as I shall forgive him; and nowthat it is done, let us make the best of it. "

"Forgive!" hissed the banker; "forgive such an act of disobedienceas that? Such disgrace to my name and people? Never, while there isa drop of Hebrew blood in Benjamin Mordecai's veins, will I forgiveit!"

"It's no more a disgrace to your name and people than it is to mine;but I consider that people are fools, who make disgrace of familytroubles, by obstinately parading them before the world. "

"Then I shall delight in being a fool, if so you deem it, " repliedMr. Mordecai, with kindling emotion. 

"Alas! I had great plans for Emile, " said Judge Le Grande sadly, ashe turned away from Mr. Mordecai; "and his mother too; she hadfondly hoped he would marry Belle Upton. Now, all is disappointment. I do not know how she will bear it. As for myself, I shall make thebest of it. I hope they may be happy. -I say, Mordecai, " lookingsteadily at the banker, "they have my forgiveness and my blessingtoo. You may do as you please. "

"Well, I curse them, " the banker answered bitterly; "and I swearthey shall never see my face again, living or dying. Not one dollarfrom my purse shall they ever receive, even though want and beggarycome upon them. Think not I can ever change, Judge Le Grande. As mypeople and my people's God, the Eternal Father, are unchangeable, sois my purpose concerning these disobedient children. Good morning. "Mr. Mordecai then turned slowly from the office, and as the judgebeheld the receding form, and remembered the fierce flash of hisdark eye, he unhesitatingly exclaimed, "Poor old man! I pity you. And, " he added after a moment's pause, "Heaven pity us both!"

As a bird floats safely upon the bosom of the blue sky and finds atlast her leafy home, so the little vessel that bore the fugitivelovers, found safe and speedy anchorage in the quiet harbor of thesea-girt isle that was to be their future home. The young, ardenthusband, and the fair, gentle wife, gazed with delight upon thecloudless skies and bright waters, and thought hopefully of thefuture. Only one shadow darkened their horizon. It was a fearfulthought, to Leah, that her father's anathema might ever rest uponher. But the future was veiled, and the voice of Hope whispered, "his blessing may come by and by. Wait. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

TWO years rolled away-two short, bright years of individual andnational prosperity, and then came a change. To use the words of theimmortal Dickens, "It was the best of times, it was the worst oftimes; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; itwas the season of light, it was the season of darkness; it was thespring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everythingbefore us, we had nothing before us; we were all going direct toheaven, we were all going direct the other way. " These utterances ofinspiration so fittingly describing the period that ushered in thebloody French Revolution, may be applied with equal truth and forceto the years that inaugurated the war between the States in fairAmerica. 

Did not prosperity bud and blossom in every vale and hamlet of thisfair domain? And yet were a people ever more unmindful of, or moreungrateful for their blessings? Bickering and strife, dissension andhatred, grew fiercer with the growth of the nation's grandeur. Slavery, on one hand said, "I will, " and Freedom, on the other, "Youshall not. " So the war-cloud, "the size of a man's hand" only atfirst, appeared upon the dim horizon of the future. Wisdom sought todevise plans for averting war, but Folly shook her locks tauntingly, and said mockingly, "Ha! ha! War is pleasant pastime. " So theculmination was reached, and a misguided people, clamorous for war, sounded the tocsin that caused rivers of blood to flow frombrothers' hearts, and enshrouded a grand and happy people indesolation and disgrace. 

At the time when the war-cloud of fratricidal conflict was rollingdark and broad over the land, a treacherous enemy on the border weremenacing and even destroying many of our country's peacefulcitizens. Upon the broad frontier at the Far West it became the dutyof the government to hold these wily foes in check by a strong andreliable armed force. To this north-western outpost of serviceCaptain Marshall had been ordered by the voice of his country. Notordered there as to a holiday excursion, but ordered into actualbloody conflict, and to an ordeal that would have tried the braveryand courage of a veteran. At the head of his command, Company A, 3dRegiment U. S. Regulars, Captain Marshall reached this post ofdanger in the hour of its most imminent peril. But for this timelyarrival of troops, the peaceful little town of Minneopoli might havebeen laid waste, and its defenceless inhabitants cruelly butcheredor carried away captive. But the premeditated destruction of thetown was averted, the treacherous "red-skins" disappointed, andCaptain Marshall's bravery demonstrated beyond a peradventure. 

It was the night after the attack of the Indians, and the bloodyrepulse. All was quiet. The troops were reassembled in camp. Theusual garrulity of the soldiers was checked by the recollection oftheir dead comrades, so recently laid to rest in soldiers' graves. All, too, remembered the danger through which they had passed, andmany were moody and silent. At length a bright-faced, light-headedyoung recruit spoke out, seeing the silence and sadness around thecamp-fire. "I say, captain, that was a wretched red-skin of a chiefthat you hauled in yesterday. He looked more like the Prince ofDarkness than the chief of a tribe. I thought once, cap'n, he hadyou; and I was just ready to pick him off, when I saw you weresafe. "

"Yes, Carlos, that was a close place, and but for a kind fate, Ishould be sleeping with those brave fellows who have left us. Peaceto their resting-places. "

"I was sorry you did not kill him; he deserved death. But how quickhe did surrender, when he saw you close in on him with your sword!Ha! ha!"

"Yes, Mico is a bad, bad Indian, and has caused more trouble to thissettlement than all the other Indians combined. I guess he willenjoy his freedom, when he gets it again. Confinement and chains areworse than death to him. "

"I tell you, cap'n, they are cowardly devils. They can't standgunpowder. At the very smell of it they run out from theirhiding-places, like so many rats from a burning building. I hated tosee one of them taken alive. It's not like fighting civilizedpeople; is it, cap'n? I am in favor of the black flag in a fightwith these red devils. "

"War is war, Carlos, and brutalizes the most intelligent people onearth, if they indulge in it. I trust our troubles are ended here, for a long time, if not forever, now that Mico is our prisoner. Atany rate, I hope all will remain peaceful and tranquil till I gohome and return. For a month I have a leave of absence, to visit mynative State. "

"Going home, captain, to see your mother?" spoke up a fair-hairedyoung boy, scarcely eighteen, who had sat a silent listener to theconversation between Carlos and his commander. 

"Ah! Franco, I have no mother; she died long ago, " replied thecaptain; "but I am going back to my native State. My father and abrother and sister live there. "

"It has been many a long day, " said Franco, "since I saw my nativehills, and heard my mother's gentle voice, as she went singing aboutour humble home. I often wonder how she could sing so, with so muchpoverty and care constantly about her. Maybe I shall never see heragain ;" and a shade of sorrow crept over the fair young face of theFrench recruit. 

The captain replied, "I trust that you may, Franco, though you arenow so many leagues away. What brought you away from her, Franco?"

"Poverty, captain, poverty; and unless I can lighten the burden ofmy mother's life by returning, I shall never go back!"

Silence at length settled upon the camp, and one by one the groupsof comrades disbanded. The campfires were extinguished, and at anearly hour sleep tenderly enfolded these guardians of theircountry's peace and security. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE spring had come again, and a little more than its first monthhad elapsed when, early one morning, as the sun was stealing upsoftly from the east, and before it had brought the hour for theslumbering troops to be aroused by another r‚veille, or had gildedthe hills and valleys with its light, Captain Marshall, accompaniedby his faithful orderly, Franco, entered the half-slumbering townof Minneopoli and turned toward the inn, whence the coach was soonto leave for the nearest railway station. 

"Lieutenant Styles will be in command, Franco, till I return, youknow, and I fear he will form a dangerous substitute, with hisaffable nature, " said the captain, as the hour of parting drew near. 

"Well, never mind that, captain; no matter how affable, we boys donot wish a new commander just now, " returned the true-hearted boy. 

"Take care of your scalps, Franco. Don't let the 'red-skins'surprise you while I am gone. There, I see the coach is ready. Imust soon bid you adieu. "

"If I remember the bravery of my captain, the red devils won't getmy scalp, I'll wager. But I hope they are settled for a time. Comeback as soon as you can, captain, and in your absence thinkoccasionally of Franco, will you? There comes the coach. The horsesare fine and gay. "

"Rest assured, Franco, I will think of you, and often too. How Iwould like to take you with me! But take care of yourself. A month'sabsence is not such a long time, after all. Good-by, my dear fellow, good-by;" and seating himself in the waiting coach, Captain Marshallwaved an adieu to his sorrowful young companion, and at the samemoment the coach driver hallooed, "All ready!" and gave a sharpcrack of the whip; the horses dashed forward, and recruit andcaptain were soon separated-separated forever. In less time than afortnight, Captain Marshall had accomplished his long andtroublesome journey, and was safe once more within his native State. 

"I tell you, Fred, " said the captain, one day when he was visiting afriend in the Queen City, "the agitated, portentous state of affairsin this section distresses and alarms me. I had no dream of thewarlike aspect of this quiet Queen City of the Sea. I fancied we hadall the trouble with us, in the north-west, among those wretchedsavages. I came home for a month of recreation and pleasure, and--"he uttered with slight hesitation--"for the fulfilment of my plightedtroth; for the realization of the bright dream of a love that hasbrightened my heart for nearly two years. Yes, Fred, and if it werenot for the business that takes me to fair Melrose, I should regretthat my coming home had been just at this time. I tell you, my goodfellow, the future portends evil, if not bloodshed. "

"Well, Marshall, bloodshed is inevitable, unless as a section we areallowed our constitutional rights; and I, for one, say, if it must, let it come, even with the fury of a storm. I am for State rights, and the Palmetto State forever!"

"Not bloodshed, Fred, if we can avert it, " replied the young officerto the enthusiastic outburst of the impetuous young Pinckney, thebeloved friend of his boyhood. "I am just from the gory field, whereI saw my brave men fall beneath the treacherous blows of theIndians. I have seen bloodshed, and desire to see no more of it. Ihave always loved military life, you know, Fred; but I tell you ittries the heart of a man to see his men shot down like dogs. "

"Oh, yes; you are for the Union, I see, " replied young Pinckney withimpatient gesture. "Your service in the regular army has weaned yourheart from your native State, I fear. "

"Oh! yes; I am for the Union just now-the union of hearts, at least;and as you go with me to Melrose, you shall see that the union ismaintained. "

"O bother! Marshall; you can think of nothing now but matrimony. Iam for the union of hearts myself; but the union of States as it hasexisted, I detest. Peaceable secession, you see, we cannot have; andif it must come in bloodshed, why, in the name of mankind, let itcome! I am ready for the issue of my State's action. "

"I pray your blood may never be required as the price of forciblesecession, my dear Fred. But the condition of the country appals me!I-whom duty calls to one place, and whom ties of affection bind toanother-I am placed in no enviable position. Yet I still hope thetrouble will soon clear up, and all will yet be bright. "

"Your duty is plain before you, Marshall. It's for or against usnow, and no equivocation. "

"Well, we'll not fall out about our country's troubles. They may bebetter and they may be worse than we anticipate. I'll hope for thebest, though evil come. Let's talk of Melrose, and the fair flowerthat blooms there. Eh, Fred?"

Fred replied smiling, "So we will, dear boy; here, take this cigar. Let's have a smoke, and if you like we'll stroll down to the Batteryand see the encampment. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE rosy month of May succeeded the chilly April in that memorableyear when the war-cloud of civil contest overshadowed the land sodarkly. It came with unwonted verdure, freshness, and beauty, filling the hearts of the despondent with hope, and the hopeful withrejoicing. It was scarcely a month from the time the coach dashedout of the half-aroused town of Minneopoli in the chilly Aprilmorning, when a similar vehicle, one evening, toiled slowly up thelong hill whose summit was crowned by picturesque Melrose. Among thepassengers were Captain Marshall and his friend Fred Pinckney. Theformer had come to Melrose to claim the hand of his affianced, ElizaHeartwell, and to take her away as his wife. In that sweet May-time, no heart was happier than George Marshall's, and no voice gladder, as it rang out in unrestrained laughter at the droll jokes andfacetious comments of his witty friend Fred. 

"I say, George, this is undoubtedly the beautifulest country I eversaw. Do see. Such honeysuckles and such dog-wood blossoms never grewbefore. Maybe if the fates are propitious, I'll come back here tothis picturesque country to get me a wife, after the war is over. Who knows? Then I'll be a laurel-crowned hero, having whaled out theYankees to a frizzle, and all the fair ones will be sighing for myhand and heart! Umph! I am impatient for the conflict. George, youknow the Yankees won't fight!"

"Well, we will see. At any rate, from my acquaintance with them, Ishall not go to battle against them armed only with a broom-stick. But here we are in Melrose. Don't, for love's sake, talk of war. Myheart's in a flutter. Cupid's conflict is worse than the Indians, Fred. "

"Yes, I see you have surrended unconditionally; yet your captivityis by no means galling, I observe. Well, you are a lucky fellow, George. Prosperity attend you. "

Fatigued from the long journey, so much of it accomplished bytiresome, lumbering stage-coaches, these two travelling companionsgladly alighted at the Melrose Tavern, and eagerly sought therefreshments its simple hospitality afforded. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

IN the quiet little parlor of Widow Heartwell, in the early Maymorning, the tender breeze stole in and out of the window, fluttering the muslin curtain and filling the apartment withdelicious perfume. In the same parlor a few chosen friends wereassembled, to witness the solemn ceremony that was to deprive themof the pride and favorite of the village. As the dial upon thedelicate face of the little bronze clock on the mantel marked thehour of eight, the flutter of robes and the rustling of footstepsushered in the expectant pair, and at once all the guests arose. 

Pale and trembling, Mrs. Heartwell took her place beside herdaughter, as she stood before the venerable minister. For years theRev. Mr. Pratt had been their pastor and spiritual adviser, and hisheart was filled with deep emotion as he pronounced the solemn wordsthat bound this child of his love and watchful care to her husband, to be "His servitor for aye. " Amid smothered sobs, he invokedHeaven's benediction upon their wedded hearts, praying that, as lovehad directed this union, so love might attend them, even unto death. 

Amid sighs and tears, the congratulations were received, and when atlength Fred Pinckney found a moment to whisper in George Marshall'sear, he said, with characteristic drollery, "By Jupiter? I'll beglad when the coach comes. I can't stand so much crying; it's morelike a funeral than a wedding. If they are obliged to blubber thisway when a fellow marries, I think I shall back out. "

Another hour and the bridal party had departed. The fair flower ofMelrose was gone, changed from a lonely maiden to a happy, hopefulbride; gone to follow the footsteps of a true, brave-heartedhusband, -gone from Melrose, leaving many aching hearts behind;leaving, too, a vacancy that no succession of years could ever quitefill. 

A fortnight after the quiet wedding in Melrose, late one afternoon, George Marshall and his wife were walking slowly along theever-thronged battery of the Queen City, whither they had come on avisit to Captain Marshall's uncle, Dr. Thornwell. A seriousexpression rested upon the young captain's face, as he surveyed thelong lines of tents that dotted the open square and bordered thebroad street-so serious indeed, that he scarcely heeded thepassers-by who were bowing salutations to him and his fair bride. 

"George, you seem so abstracted; you scarcely noticed Frank Brewsteras he passed just now in the brett with Florence Dale. What's thematter, dear?"

"I'm troubled, perplexed, pondering, my dear. Yet I did not mean tobe so abstracted. I must beg your forgiveness, as well as that of myfriends. "

"Oh! never mind me, George; only tell me what troubles you. "

"Nothing more than the perplexing question that has harassed me eversince I came home, and saw beyond a doubt that we should havewar-the question that I must soon decide, whether I shall desert myState in time of peril, or my country. In either course of acting, Ishall be branded as a traitor, or a rebel. It's a serious dilemma tobe placed in, dear Eliza, and I must act wisely, and like a man. Myheart is dreadfully divided: duty calls me to my country, and lovecalls me to my home. My forebodings, too, whisper that this war willbe no trifling affair. "

"Well, for my part, George, and you already know it, I am opposed tosecession. Fred Pinckney says it's on account of the Whig blood thatflows in my veins. I told him that my father, and my grandfatherbefore him, were uncompromising Whigs. It may be so; I don't know. Iabhor the idea of bloodshed, and as yet, I think we have had littlecause to declare war. "

"You are a sage little woman, and your argument sound, but thesesentiments won't do to promulgate in the Queen City. Remember, I amstill a commissioned officer in the United States army. Be careful. "

"Oh! I am not afraid of my sentiments, or of being deemedtraitorous. Only this morning, Colonel Legare asked me if I wouldpresent the Palmetto Rifles with the new flag he had made for them. But to return. War is war, George, and should be entered into withcaution. "

"Yes; you are right. I feel at times as though I could not fightagainst the flag of my country; and then, on the other hand, I wouldnot fight against my home and kindred. There seems but onealternative left to me-to resign my commission in the army and nottake up arms at all, " replied the young officer sadly. 

"Well, cheer up. Don't grow despondent. I hope wisdom will directyour decision; and remember, if the thought will give you anycomfort, that I have sworn to follow your footsteps and yourfortune, wheresoever they may lead, be it from craggy Maine to wildColorado, " said the young wife with forced pleasantry. 

"Bravo! what a lucky fellow I am! Surely no evil will befall me. Your cheering words decide my choice; wisdom, you say, will directthe decision. It shall be made. We will once more make the charminground of this inviting boulevard, and then I'll tell you mydecision. There goes Fred Pinckney on horseback. How handsome helooks in that uniform! He belongs to the Palmetto Rifles, Ibelieve. "

"Yes, so he does. Fred's a gallant, handsome fellow, a little toohot-blooded, though, " replied the young wife, thoughtfully. 

Once again the gay promenade was traversed, and as the sun's lastray was faintly dying, the young wife stopped, and leaning gently onthe railing with eye turned toward the sea, she said, "Now, George, tell me your decision. " And he replied quickly, "I shall resign mycommission in the army, and cast my lot with my people and my State. Alas! I may never see Franco again!"

"I trust you have acted wisely, " replied the young wife, thoughtfully. "But, oh, George, see Defiance. See how the dying sungilds the flag, the new flag that has risen above the old one thatfloated there when I was here a school-girl. Somehow I love the oldflag, the Stars and Stripes-'Whig blood, ' I suppose; but Defiancealways looked so grim and terrible to me, even when I was aschool-girl, in peaceful days, and now it appears a terrible monsterof horror!"

"Oh! Defiance bears you no ill-will, my darling. It's a quiet oldfort, that will protect us from our enemies. Long live the memory ofthe man who surrendered it only at the mouth of cannon! But come, let's be going. It's late; already pedestrians and vehicles areturning homeward. "

How sad, that time so far has furnished no historian or biographertruthfully and charitably to chronicle the terrible struggle of manynoble-souled men, who sacrificed the love of country for the love ofState in that unhallowed civil war! Yet there is the truth that thegreat Searcher of human hearts has His record on high; and in theunfolding hereafter, many souls that here were branded as traitors, will there receive the rewards of patriots. Scores who were heredespised for cowardice, will there receive the plaudits that awaitthe brave. Legions who have perished in ignominious cells, willthere be found crowned heroes. For who knows the yet unwrittenrecord of the horrible war between the States, but the heroes whoperished here and passed on beyond?

CHAPTER XXX. 

SIX months rolled by-six memorable months, that sadly blasted anation's hopes, and overturned the plans and purposes of countlessindividuals. The war-cloud had darkened and deepened, till the skyof many a happy home was already obscured by its fearful gloom. Atthe first bugle-note of conflict, a peaceful, happy people wastransformed, as if by magic, into a warlike host. The war-tiderushed on with an impetuosity that bore all things before it. Willing or unwilling, men must be soldiers. Cities, towns, andvillages were astir with excitement. Forgetting the ordinaryinterests of life, people talked enthusiastically, madly, of war. Months ago had the accustomed serenity of the Queen City given placeto noisy military life. Its by-ways and suburbs were dotted withtents, the phantom homes of soldiers. Men who yesterday weregentlemen, were to-day only vassals, whose existence was marked bythe morning r‚veille and the evening tattoo. The drilling, drilling, drilling, still hourly went on; but not that peaceful exercise theinhabitants had been wont to observe in Citadel Square in daysagone. Marching, guarding, countermarching, watching, were the orderof the day. Some hearts were wild with enthusiasm, others dark withdespair. Already the tide of brothers' blood had crimsoned the sodof more than one State. Blood, blood, was flowing-crimson blood, that might have been a libation to a nobler, holier cause. 

Old Defiance, standing dark and warlike in the harbor of the QueenCity, had now a new commander. The guns, as usual, turned theirdeadly mouths to the open sea, but the gunners and the commander didnot wear the uniform of the old troops once garrisoned there. GeorgeMarshall, impelled by the love of State, and moved by theimportunities of friends, had accepted the position of commander atDefiance, and was now Colonel instead of Captain Marshall. Withregret, with tears even, he folded away the regimentals of the oldarmy, and said with a sigh, as he laid them out of sight, "I shallnever need them again. " Blame him, if you dare, you who have neverstood the test of such a trial. Censure him for a traitor, if youmust, you that have only dallied on the outskirts of your country'sdanger. In that book on high, thank God, angels read his recordaright. 

"George, " said Eliza one morning to her husband, in a soft Octoberday, as he was about leaving her for the fort, "I am sorry you evertook command of Defiance. I have always had a strange horror of thatmonster of the sea. I hate to think of your being there. "

"Well, you are foolish in that fear, my love. It's much better foryou than if I were in the field. If I were at the head of aregiment, I should be ordered here and there, Fate only knows where, and maybe not see you for months, perhaps years. When you becomemore acquainted with the old fortress, my dear, you will cease toregard it with such terror. "

"Maybe I shall, George, but I fear not. It stands like some terribleapparition, ever before me, waking or sleeping, " she replied, halfsadly, half fearfully. "Oh! this terrible war! It has begun, but itis not yet ended, " she added with a shudder. 

"You must be more hopeful; your words are not encouraging to asoldier-husband. Come, cheer up, and go with me over to the fortressthis evening. What do you say? Go, and beard the lion in his den, asit were. "

"I shall be most happy to do so, if it will tend to dispel myprejudice, or rather, my dread of the place. At what hour?"

"At six P. M. Precisely, the Sea-Foam leaves pier number three forthe fort. I'll return in time for us to leave at that hour. Beready. Adieu. I must hasten!" He kissed her, and was gone. 

When Eliza was once again alone in her quiet chamber, the skilfulfingers were busy with her work, and the perplexed brain was busywith its thoughts. At length she said, half audibly, "I may befoolish. God only knows how dreadfully I feel about this wretchedwar. "

At the appointed time George Marshall returned, to find his wifeawaiting him; and without delay they sought the Sea-Foam's pier. Asthe young colonel walked beside his wife, so modestly yet becominglyattired in simple white muslin, with a blue scarf round herfaultless figure, he thought her a paragon of beauty, and passed onin silent admiration, till the pier was reached. 

"What does this embarkation recall to your mind, George?" said theyoung wife pleasantly, as her husband seated himself beside her onthe deck of the Sea-Foam. 

"Nothing in particular, that I remember. What is it?"

"Oh, I was vain enough to suppose it might recall to you an occasionthat has ever been memorable to me, " she replied archly. But I seeyou have forgotten that sunny June evening, five years ago, when Iembarked, from this very pier-embarked, leaving you behind, andthinking I should never see you again. "

"Oh, forgive my want of memory and sentimentality. The war haswell-nigh crushed the latter out of my nature. I thank God though, that we have now embarked together on the ocean of life, with nofear of separation, and with the hope, too, that storms, if theycome, may not wreck our bark. Isn't the sea lovely? And howdelicious the breeze!"

"Yes, the flags float airily; but the fort, though seemingly sonear, is yet quite far away. How deceptive is water!" The boat spedon toward the fortress like a feather on the breeze. 

"Here we come, " said the colonel, "nearer, nearer, nearer, to thehuge pile of sea-washed brick and mortar; nearer to your dreadedenemy, my love; slower, slower, slower, to the land. Here we are!"And the Sea-Foam safely cast her anchor once again. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

EVENT crowded upon event as the first two long years of the warglided by-years that seemed to calendar twenty-four, instead oftwelve months each. The strife hadn't yet reached its climax, butblood was flowing fearfully. From Maine to the Gulf was one vastbeleaguered sea-coast, for at every sea-port city, grim monsters ofwar stood guarding the entrance to the harbor. Already the central, though despised Queen City, was feeling the fire of a fierce andcruel bombardment. Refugees were flitting hither and thither aboutthe country, seeking peace and security, but finding none. Want andprivation were even now beginning to menace a once luxurious people, and gloom and despair to enshroud the hopes of those who had fondlydreamed of a successful dismemberment of the Union. Such was therecord of the years preceding the memorable seven days' fighting at"Merry Oaks. "

These battles form the half-way stone in the long period of ourcivil war. It was the day after the dreadful conflict. The forceshad retired to re-gather their strength, and the wounded, dying, anddead, were left upon the field. Early in the morning, as the heat ofthe summer sun was streaming down, a horseman rode slowly andcarefully about this field of death. Here and there, lying thickly, as they fell, were the dead of both forces, easily distinguished bythe different colors they wore, while gathered in groups, under thegrateful shade-trees, could be seen the wounded whose strength wassufficient to drag them thither. This field was a shockingspectacle. And as the horseman rode slowly along the desolate track, peering curiously and sadly into the upturned faces of the dead, acasual observer might have detected the melancholy expression on hisface, and marked the glittering tear that bedewed his eyes. Forbrave, true, noble George Marshall, was never ashamed to weep overthe woes of humanity! Imperative business had called him from hispost of duty to the seat of war, just in time to be within ear-shotof that memorable seven days' carnage. And as he rode, on that quietsummer morning, strange, painful emotions filled his heart. Aroundand about him, before and behind, lay grim and ghastly faces cold indeath-faces of soldiers who were brothers in country, and many ofthem brothers in name-brothers in actual consanguinity, brothers indestiny, brothers in everything, save love. There they were, peaceful now, side by side, the last conflict ended, the last sparkof animosity extinguished; there, side by side-dead. No wonderGeorge Marshall wept. The wonder is that there ever throbbed a humanheart that could refrain from weeping over such a scene. 

At length, George Marshall suddenly drew his rein, and lifting hishand to his forehead so as to shade his eyes, gazed curiouslyforward for a moment toward an object lying not very far distant. Then, quickly alighting, he stepped cautiously toward the object ofhis scrutiny. It was the dead body of a soldier. The dark blueuniform told to which army he belonged. The stocking, turned backfrom a slender ankle, fell carelessly over the heavy army shoe. Thehead was half-averted, and the open eyes, though sightless, werestill bright with God's own azure. 

"Creeping gently through his slender hand, as though it loved thecold caress of death, was a wild vine whose tiny blossoms would haveshrunk at the touch of a wild bee's foot. " By the side of his facewas the worn cap that had fallen from his head as he fell. 

Fearfully, timidly, with an air of dread, Colonel Marshallapproached the silent figure and bent over the recumbent form. 

"Great God! it is Franco! I thought I knew the poor fellow fromafar! Poor, poor boy! Poor fair-haired Franco!" he exclaimed in abreath. Then gently turning the soiled cap, he read "Third RegimentUnited States Regulars. " "My old command, my old command, " hemurmured. "Alas! poor Franco! I thank God we did not meet in deadlyconflict. Your true, kind heart wished no one ill, yet an unkindfate has brought you to a mournful end, and I, for one, shall mournyour hapless lot. Alas! poor boy, you'll never see your vine-cladFrance again, and your kind mother's peasant home will ever bedarkened by your absence. "

Then kneeling for a little time beside the dead boy, thekind-hearted colonel dropped a tear and bowed his head in deepreflection. Then, arising and looking eagerly about him, he said atlength, "There, in the end of that entrenchment, by the side of thatshattered tree, I can lay his body, in lieu of a better grave. Thereit will at least be safe from the vultures and the horrible fatethat awaits the unburied dead of a defeated army. "

Then tenderly and sadly he laid the young soldier away in hispeaceful grave, covering his face with his smoke-stained cap, andfolding his pulseless hands upon his bosom. At last, covering themound upon which his tears had fallen, with some evergreen boughs, he patiently carved upon a rude board, that he set up to mark thegrave, the words:

"POOR FRANCO. Aged 20. "

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE bombardment of the Queen City continued. With unprecedentedstubbornness did she resist the enemy's fierce demands, and standfirm amid the death-dealing blows of shot and shell. Many of theinhabitants had fled from their homes at the first boom of theshelling guns, but many, too, had remained; and among the latternumber was Mr. Mordecai's family. But now the moment had arrivedwhen farther exposure to danger seemed to the banker a recklessdisregard of life. So they were going-going, as many others hadgone, leaving behind the palatial home, with its comforts andluxuries, for the privations, hardships, discomforts, of a refugeelife. Articles of value were being removed to places of greatersecurity, some to be sold, others given to remaining friends, whocould not get away, and some left uncared for. It was the day beforethe proposed departure. The house wore the aspect of a dismantledcastle. In the room formerly the library, but now well filled withtrunks, boxes, bundles, and so on, Rebecca and her faithfulattendant were busy with the packing, unpacking, and repacking oftheir household goods. "Here, Barbara, " said Rebecca, turning to thewoman nearest her, as she pushed aside an old worn portmanteau, "youcan take this. It's an old valise that my husband sent up from thebank the other day, among his rubbish from there. Here, give me thepapers out of it, and I'll lookover them, while I sit here to rest amoment. Here, pour them into my apron. " Obeying this command, Barbara emptied the contents into the large apron that the mistressupheld to receive them, and she sat down to the examination. One byone the papers fell from her fingers to the floor as valuelesstrash, and she pushed them with her foot toward the open fire-place. Suddenly she descried upon the floor a dark brown paper, looselyfolded, that had fallen from her lap unobserved. Picking it up, shedrew from it a small book, bound in Russia leather, the size of aman's hand. Upon the outer cover, in dim, well-worn, andmold-covered letters was the word "Journal. " "What can this be?" shemurmured curiously, holding it tightly in her hand. Slowlyunfastening the slender clasp, she read with astonishment the wordswritten upon the first page: "Emile Le Grande's Diary. "

Amazed at what her eyes beheld, Rebecca hastily secreted the book inher dress pocket and retired from the room. Once securely out ofsight, she eagerly began her scrutiny of the ill-fated little bookthat had fallen so mysteriously into her possession. Record afterrecord was read with greedy eye. Soon her eye rested upon the name, "Leah Mordecai. " No vulture ever devoured its unfortunate prey withmore rapacity that did this wicked woman the contents that followed, day after day. Her eye gleamed with delight, and her jewelled handstrembled for joy, as she turned leaf after leaf of the unfortunatebook. At length she stopped suddenly, and exclaimed half-wildly, "Aha! I know it now! At last the truth has come to light, theterrible mystery is revealed, " as she read the unfortunate yet idlerecord of young Le Grande's, made on the night of Bertha Levy's tea-party, the foolish record: "If I knew that she loved Mark Abrams, Iwould kill him. "

"You are mistaken, my bird, " Rebecca continued to soliloquize; "hedid not love Leah Mordecai as fondly as you supposed, but you daredto kill him from jealous hatred when you well knew you weredestroying the hopes and future of my child. Well, I'll see to itthat revenge comes. My young eagle, you are not so far away, butjustice can find you. Though the water of a dozen oceans rolledbetween us, I think my revenge could reach you. Rest on in yourfancied security while you may, young villain; the storm isgathering for your destruction. Rest on. Rebecca Mordecai willnever, never forget you. I will keep this secret to myself till myplans are matured; then I will act. Now, we must fly, and then-well, never mind what then, so I keep this treasure safe in my grasp. " Sosaying, she stowed the journal away in her bosom, and with a cruellaugh, busied herself again with her preparations for departure. Theremoval was made. The mansion of the banker was vacated, and theQueen City left to the mercy of the spoiler. In all these days ofagitation and confusion, the little journal lay safe in the bosom ofits possessor. She intended to have the way clear, before unfoldingher secret and her purpose. And so it was. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

IN their quiet little sea-girt home, where the skies were bright andblue, and the breezes balmy and soft, Emile Le Grande and his youngwife had dwelt in peace and happiness for nearly five years. Not aline had ever come, amid all Leah's hopeless longing and vainexpectation, to assure her of her father's forgiveness and continuedlove. So, weary from this continued disappointment, she had settleddown into the confident assurance, that his blessing now would nevercome, and she must find happiness alone in her husband's love. Long, long ago, Emile's parents had written, expressing kindest wishes fortheir welfare, and tendering to Leah a daughter's welcome. Mrs. LeGrande, although disappointed and chagrined that Belle Upton was notthe choice of her son's love, soon quieted down, and accepted thealternative with astonishing and commendable resignation. So, despite Leah's bitter disappointment, she was happy; for, aside fromEmile's love, she soon drew hope and happiness from the life of thedark-eyed little daughter that had come to bless her home. Emile hadyielded to Leah's wishes, and, following the custom of her people, she had called her little daughter, Sarah, in memory of her mother, whose death she had so long and deeply mourned. 

The event of this little grandchild's birth had never reached Mr. Mordecai's ears, for he had regarded Leah as dead, ever since thatdreadful morning when he discovered that she had clandestinelymarried a "Christian dog. " He desired to know naught of her welfare;he avoided knowing anything. 

In the interior of the State, about two hundred miles distant fromthe Queen City, was a cosy, sequestered little settlement, calledInglewood. To this little shelter of peace and security, manyrefugees had found their way, and taken temporary homes. Many Hebrewfamilies from the Queen City had fled thither, and among them thoseof Rabbi Abrams and Mr. Mordecai. 

It was some weeks after Mr. Mordecai's removal to Inglewood, whenone day Rebecca requested her husband to accompany her to the houseof the rabbi. Mr. Mordecai gladly assented. They found the rabbi, asusual, engrossed with his books in the temporary library that was anecessary feature of his home. Mrs. Abrams still bore on her pale, calm face the marks of sorrow that had rested there since theterrible and mysterious death of her son. Without delay, and by dintof that skilful management which was characteristic of Rebecca, sheapproached the dreadful subject of Mark's death. Then, after apause, looking straight at the rabbi, she said suddenly, withterrible emphasis, "I know the guilty man-the one who did thedreadful deed. " The rabbi, his wife, and Mr. Mordecai looked aghast. 

"What do you mean, " at length spoke out the rabbi, in fearfulbewilderment. 

"I mean that I know who assassinated Mark, " she replied, withflashing eye and ringing voice. 

"Know who killed my son!" he ejaculated hoarsely, "for Heaven'ssake, who was it?"

"You know the dark villain, Rebecca, who did that bloody deed! ByIsrael, who was it?" said her husband, almost in the same breath. 

"It was Emile-Le-Grande!" she replied slowly. "He and none other. "

"That's a dreadful accusation, " said the rabbi; "by what authoritydo you make such a statement?"

"By the authority of his own words, " she replied triumphantly. "Here, you can read the confession for yourself. " She drew forth thelittle journal and pointed to the records. 

"There, read first: 'If I thought Mark Abrams loved her, I wouldkill him. "

"Great God!" gasped the rabbi, looking again at the record as thoughhe thought his eyes had deceived him. 

"Here again, see here, " said Rebecca, pointing to one other record:"'Dead men tell no tales. ' Was that not some deed of his foul doingthat he did not wish discovered?" she continued, as she turnedonward through the book. 

"He shall die!" exclaimed Mr. Mordecai, quivering with rage andastonishment, while the stricken father turned and walked sadlyacross the floor, exclaiming, "Ah me! ah me! Alas! my poor boy?"while the mother's wounded heart bled afresh. 

"See here again, " said Rebecca, pointing with her finger to anotherrecord that bore upon the mystery. 

"Enough! enough!" exclaimed the father, averting his head and wavingher to silence with his hand. "I have seen enough; the mystery isplain, the truth at last revealed. O God, the dreadful truth!"

Mr. Mordecai stamped his foot, clenched his hands, and mutteringhalf audibly, "This villain has ruined you, has broken my heart, anddestroyed the hopes of my child; and he shall die!"

"But, poor Leah, my husband, " said Rebecca, half timidly, and with asemblance of deep feeling. 

"Leah!" he angrily repeated, "dare you even, now, speak that name tome? Would to God she were dead! Never insult me again with theutterance of that name?"

"Forgive me, dear husband; in the excitement of this sad discovery Iforgot your commands. I'll obey you in future. " And turning again tothe subject, in order to appease her husband's displeasure, sheadded, "By what means can you hope to reach Emile now, dear husband?You know he's far away, and the guns of a blockading fleetintervene. "

"Though the guns of a dozen fleets intervened, I should bring him tojustice, " he replied sharply. 

"Think what my dear Sarah has suffered-is suffering still, from thework of his bloody hand, dear husband, " said Rebecca, affecting toweep, as she covered her face with her hand. 

Well-nigh aroused to frenzy, Mr. Mordecai said fiercely, "Promiseme, Rabbi Abrams, promise me, Rebecca, that you will lend me youraid in bringing this fugitive to justice; and I swear by Jerusalem, he shall be punished. I have gold, and that will insure me success. Yes, I have gold he coveted, but-aha! that he has never received. Pledge me, promise me, both of you, that good allies you will be!"And they pledged him. 

"But, tell me, Rebecca, " said the rabbi, suddenly stopping in hisagitated walk. "How did you come into possession of that book?"

"Indeed, Rabbi Abrams, that is a mystery. In packing and unpacking, preparatory to leaving the Queen City, I accidentally found thisJournal in an old portmanteau that my husband sent up from his bankone day, among a lot of rubbish. It had lain there a long time, Ijudge. Can you clear up the mystery, my husband?" she said, turningto Mr. Mordecai. 

"Let me see it, " he replied; and taking the Journal from her hands, he held it in his grasp as though it were a deadly thing, while heeyed it strangely from side to side. 

"I think, I think, " he said slowly, as though abstracted andconfused; "I think this is the book Mingo gave me the morningafter--" Then he was silent. "Well, he found it in the lodge, Iguess, " he continued. "I remember his giving me a small book thatmorning, and I laid it away somewhere, to look at when my mind wasless agitated. I had forgotten it. "

"A kind fate has preserved it, husband, so that we might beavenged, " said Rebecca. 

"Keep it securely then, as it will be needed in the future. You area wise, good woman, a wise little wife, " added the husband, with alltrace of displeasure toward her banished from his face. 

Her mission accomplished, Rebecca, leaving the distressed family tofind solace for their sorrow as best they could, returned home togloat on the perfection of a scheme that would bring sorrow anddesolation to the happy Cuban home. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE war still raged. The whole world, one might dare to say, wasmore or less agitated by this conflict. Vigilance, tightening itsgrasp here, redoubling its blows there, watching the inlets andoutlets everywhere, had taught a once happy people that war was noholiday sport. But the great end must be reached, the end of the"War of the Rebellion" with the government intact. To accomplishthis, every means was deemed fair and honorable. Blockading, starvation, destruction of property, the torch-yea, any and everyappliance that would tend to subdue a hostile people, was broughtinto requisition to maintain the Union. 

So, before the third year of the memorable civil war had run itsbloody course, want almost stalked abroad in this fair Southernland. But for the successful, though occasional ventures of somefriendly vessel, that succeeded in running the blockade, bringingstores necessary for the comfort of a war-worn people, dire wantmight have reigned supreme in many a household, where wealth andluxury once dwelt. So much for the good accomplished by those boldadventurers of the sea. And yet there were blockade-runners-a few, avery few, thank Heaven-who were but a set of human vultures, preyingupon their fellow-beings, and who, for a sum of gold, would lendtheir hand to any deed of darkness. To this latter class belongedJoe Haralson, the well-known captain of the Tigress, the mostsuccessful blockade-runner on all the southern coast. Haralsonhimself was a native of one of the fertile cotton islands off thecoast of the Palmetto State, and, in an hour of danger, had desertedhis country, and fled to the West Indies. There he equipped a vesselfor blockade-running, and being familiar with much of the southerncoast, he was always successful in eluding the guns of theblockading fleets, and entering safely with his cargo. The suppliesof merchandise, and the munitions of war that he occasionallylanded, were exchanged for cotton, which he sold for gold at afabulous profit. 

It was the summer after the removal of Mr. Mordecai's family toInglewood. In the month of June, Joe Haralson anchored the Tigresssafely within the port of Havana. New Providence was his usualharbor of refuge; but now, other business than the successfuldisposal of his cargo of cotton had brought him thither. One soft, sweet morning, in this land where spring and summer alternate, Leahhad been out driving with her husband, enjoying the early morningbreeze, and hoping that it would benefit the delicate little Sarah, then in her second summer. They drew near the Plaza de la Mar, andEmile remarked, as he surveyed the endless rows of shipping:

"There, Leah, see the countless numbers of flags. "

"Yes, all but the flag of our struggling country, " she replied. "Iwonder if that will ever become a recognized flag among nations?"

"I fear not, " Emile replied gravely. "But there! our darling hasfallen asleep! We must hasten home. "

On reaching home, Emile kissed his wife, and softly kissed hissleeping baby too, before alighting from the light volante; andthen, throwing the lines to Petro, the slave, who was awaiting theirreturn, he said, "Take care of the pony, Petro;" and turning to hiswife--"You take care of my wee lamb, Leah, till I come again, " andleft them. 

An hour later, and a thick-set, rough-visaged man entered thebanking-house of Gardner & Company, and asked, in faltering English, "Is Se¤or Le Grande in?"

"Yes, " replied Mr. Gardner. "Here, Mr. Le Grande, this man wants tosee you. " Emile approached, and looking curiously at the stranger, observed that he was clad partly in sailor's, partly in citizen'sclothes. "What will you have, sir?" demanded Emile. 

"Se¤or, " replied the strange man, whose broken English betrayed hisSpanish tongue, "Dere is at da w'arf Blanco Plaza, a 'Merican vesselfrom da States. A seik frien' wish to see se¤or Le Grande, veryquick, very quick, se¤or. "

"From what State does the vessel come?" asked Emile in astonishment. 

"From da Soutern State, se¤or, da Pa'metto State. "

In a moment Emile conjectured that it was some blockade-runner, andsupposed some friend or relative had arrived, and, being unable tocome on shore, had indeed sent for him. Without waiting to consider, and without further explanation, he accompanied the strange guide, who led the way to the wharf. The flags were floating free and gay, yet as this nameless cicerone pointed out the Tigress, that laybefore them with flag staff bare, Emile Le Grande thought, "Thecaptain is afraid to show his colors; well he may be. "

"Captain Haralson, Se¤or Le Grande, " said the guide, in brokenaccents, as he entered the ship's cabin, where the captain awaitedhis return. "I told cap'n you I would bring him, " he continued, witha savage grin upon his features. 

"Who is it would see me?" demanded Emile. "Where is my sick friend?"

"You are a prisoner, sir, " replied the captain fiercely, "a fugitivefrom justice, and your State calls for your return. "

"By what authority do you utter those words, you scoundrel?" repliedEmile, in bewildered indignation. 

"By the authority of those you have injured, and who have sent me tobring you back. "

"Who, and where are my accusers?" asked Emile angrily. "Let themdare confront me!"

"Then follow me, " said the captain, as he passed along to a smallapartment, a kind of saloon, at the end of the vessel. He gave threesharp, quick raps at the door, then turned the bolt and entered. Emile followed. Seated before them upon a ship-lounge, with a booklying idly in her lap, was-Rebecca Mordecai!

"Aha! and you have come at last, captain, " she said. Arising fromher seat and turning her eyes upon Emile, she continued, "Mr. LeGrande, we meet again, securely as you deemed yourself beyond thereach of justice. You see oceans and shell-guns are no barriers inthe way of the accomplishment of my ends. You fled from yourcountry, thinking your foul crime would never come to light; but'murder will out, ' and now, you are my prisoner. Justice will yet beavenged. "

"What do you mean, woman? your tongue contains the poison of asps. If I did not know your face, I would swear you were some escapedinmate of a madhouse. Tell me your meaning, lunatic, " replied Emile, in wrathful astonishment. 

"Call me lunatic, if you dare, you miserable felon. Deny my words, if you please, but your own written confession is in my hands. "

"Confession of what?" shouted Emile, stamping his foot inindignation. "Never, never, am I your prisoner! I'll leave thiscursed place, --"

"Not so fast, my friend, " said Joe Haralson menacingly, as Emilemade an attempt to leave the room. "Not so fast! I am promised muchgold, if I bring you alive to your native State; and that gold, myfriend, I shall have. "

"Release me! release me!" shouted Emile, "I am an innocent man. Thiswoman--"

"Hush, my friend, or I'll stow you away where your cries will notreach any human ear. Be quiet, my lad. "

Emile saw that resistance was useless; and he said calmly, turningagain to Rebecca "Of what crime am I guilty, that you thus hunt meas you would a wild beast?"

"Would you know?" she replied, with a scornful, cruel laugh. "Wouldyou know even half the crimes that are scored against you in yournative State?"

"You can tell me of none, " he replied sullenly, regretting that hehad again spoken to this merciless woman, into whose snare he had sounwarily fallen. 

"Perhaps you think we have not yet discovered who murdered MarkAbrams; but, sir, we have. "

"Who was it?" indignantly inquired Emile. 

"It was-Emile-Le-Grande, " she replied slowly, her fierce eye markingevery emotion of his face. 

"Great Heavens. What an atrocity!"

"Deny it if you dare, I have the proof. "

"Prove it, if you can. I dare you to prove it. But I must leave thisplace. Such nonsense shall not detain me longer. I know that you aremad. -Captain, release me. Do not heed the ravings of that woman anylonger. "

"I am pledged, sir, on the accusation of this woman, to convey yousafely back to the State, and back you must go. I can allow you noopportunity to escape. "

"I must see my wife first. I cannot go without it. "

"The vessel is ready to start. It will be impossible for you to seeher. If you are quiet and obedient, you shall not be manacled; ifyou resist, we shall stow you away in security. Be wise now, and besilent. "

"But my wife--"

"In an hour the Tigress will be out of port, sir, and you cannot seeher. "

"Alas! alas!" groaned Emile. "In Heaven's name, why has this evilbefallen me?" and quickly sinking down upon a cabin stool, he said, "Keep me from the presence of this wretched lunatic, captain, if Imust go. Yes, if I must be stolen in this cowardly way, from apeaceful home, and taken from a loving wife and innocent, helplesschild, I can but submit; but keep that wretched woman out of mypresence, I implore you. "

"My friend, you may stay in here, " replied the relentless captain, "till we are out of port;" and opening the door of a small room thatcontained only a port-hole of a window, he locked Emile in, and thenbusied himself with preparations for a speedy departure. Once shutin, Emile drew from his pocket a slip of paper, and addressed a lineto Gardner & Company, urging his friend to go for his wife, and cometo him at once. From his diminutive window he spied a slave near by, and quickly summoning him, said, "Here's my watch, boy; take thisnote quick to Gardner & Company, and my watch shall be yours. " Thenhe threw the slip of paper out of the window. Distressed anddismayed, he sank down again, nervous and miserable, for fear theTigress would depart before his wife and Mr. Gardner should arrive. 

RECEIVING Emile's mysterious note, Mr. Gardner went with allpossible speed to the young man's home, and informed Leah of whathad transpired. "I do not understand this note, " he said; "there iscertainly a mystery about this summons. The man who came for LeGrande had a strange, mean-looking face; but we must hasten. "

Leah, so long accustomed to sorrow, evinced no unusual emotion atthese apprehensive words of Mr. Gardner; but calmly asked:

"Do you suppose any harm has come to my husband?"

"I cannot say, madam; I trust not. "

"What motive could that man have had for deceiving Emile?"

"Mercy knows, but it will not do to trust these treacherousSpaniards too far. Still his story may have been a truthful one. Hewas undoubtedly a sailor. We will at least go and see. The pony andchaise are ready. "

"Take care of my darling, Margarita, " said Leah, as she kissed hersleeping child, and stepped out to the waiting volante. 

"Now drive fast, Mr. Gardner. My heart misgives me. "

Without replying, Mr. Gardner urged forward the fleet pony, and theydid not slacken their speed until street after street had beentraversed, corner upon corner turned, and they were in sight of thePlaza de la Mar, with its myriads of ships' masts and flags in view. Then, driving more slowly, Mr. Gardner turned upon the dock of piernumber three, and looked eagerly forward. There was no ship there. Alighting from the chaise, Leah and Mr. Gardner approached a partyof ship-hands at work there, and asked:

"Is not this pier number three, where an American vessel has beenanchored?"

"Yes, se¤or, but the American vessel has been out of port an hour. "

"Out of port an hour!" repeated Leah, in dismay. "Where is myhusband, then?"

Mr. Gardner shook his head dubiously, and said, "He may have gonewith them. "

"Gone with them?" said Leah wildly. "Gone!" she uttered again, andthen sank helpless upon the wharf. 

Mr. Gardner, deeply moved, lifted her again into the chaise, withthe assurance that her husband in all probability had returned tohis place of business. 

Once more at the bank, Mr. Gardner was disappointed to find thatEmile had not returned, but instead, another scrap of paper wasawaiting him, bearing these dreadfully significant words:

"They have stolen me away, to take me back to my native State, toanswer for a fiendish crime of which I am not guilty. Send my wifeafter me as soon as--"

Here Emile had stopped for want of time. He had thrown the note intothe hands of the same slave who had carried the first one. 

"Take that to Gardner & Company, and they will pay you, " he said, asthe Tigress pushed from shore. 

The ship had started; and Emile, alone in darkness and despair, tried vainly to conjecture whence this mysterious trouble had come, and what would be its probable result. 

The captain of the Tigress, as has been said, was a mercenary andrapacious man, caring no more for a bleeding country than does abird of prey for a bleeding dove. So long as he obtained the gold ofhis impoverished countrymen, and eluded the grasp of the blockadingfleet that so vigilantly guarded every important port, he wascontented. To the care of this man, this iron-hearted captain, Rebecca Mordecai had committed herself, in her endeavor, as shesaid, "to recall Emile Le Grande to the bar of justice. "

"If you land me safely there, captain, I will give you gold. If youbring me safely back with the culprit, I will give you more. "

Haralson, aware that the coffers in the Mordecai vault werewell-filled with the coveted ore, pledged himself, and swore aterrible oath, that his ocean wanderer should accomplish this trip, even at the cost of the last drop of his heart's blood. Howsuccessful he was in landing and treacherously inveigling his victiminto the ship, has been seen. Then, after two days of rathertempestuous sailing in a tropical sea, dodging here and there, forfear of being pounced upon by the maritime monsters he sought toelude, Haralson landed, at length, at an inlet, obscure but well-known to him, upon the low, sandy shore of the Palmetto State. Withdowncast heart, Emile once more set foot upon his native soil, andat the bidding of his captor followed sullenly in the way she led. Chagrined, stung, maddened almost, he trod the devious way that ledhim back once more-back, back, to the Queen City. Not back to hisfather's comfortable home, for that, alas! was unoccupied, and thefamily refugees in a foreign land. But back again, in a felon'smanacles, to find lodgment in a felon's cell-back to solitude anddespair, when at length, the grim old turnkey turned the gratingbolt upon him, and he was left alone in prison. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE war still raged. Everywhere in all the beleaguered land, thetide of brothers' blood flowed apace. Bitterness grew with everyhour, and not one heaven-toned voice was heard above the din ofcarnage, saying, "Stay the madness, and let the blood stop flowing. "The end was not yet reached, the great problem of this unnaturalconflict not yet solved. The bombardment of the Queen City stillcontinued, though with little hope of its surrender. But theshelling went on, as though this murderous rain of death were but amerry pastime, on those summer days. The fort was now deemedimpregnable; and yet the hope of its surrender was one that couldnot die in the hearts of the beleaguerers. Day after day, theyassaulted and reassaulted, and day by day were filled withdisappointment. 

At last, one bright June day was ushered in by a terrific boom, andthen, as if summoning the last spark of hope and determination, thegrim mouths of the cannon belched forth, for many hours, such a rainof shot and shell as will ever be remembered. The sky was blackenedearly with the cloud of smoke that rolled up from the sea-thesulphurous smoke that pervaded every nook of the city, and was borneaway upon every hurrying breeze to the far-off hills and valleys. One might well imagine the scene a very inferno; so terrible was theconflict. Stern, dark, and resolute, Defiance stood for hours-not agun dismounted, not a man dismayed. But the day grew late, and stillthe booming cannons roared. The heavens above were overcast, asthough nature were ready with a flood of tears to weep over thedeeds of humanity. The lightning flashed, and the guns flashed, andhere and there and everywhere the dreadful shells fell thick andfast. 

At length one fell upon the ramparts of Defiance andexploded-exploded with a crash of fury that said to every listeningear, "Some dreadful deed is done. "

Alas! alas! The wild crash sounded the death-knell of one brave, noble heart, and crushed countless hopes as George Marshall's soulwent out. The murderous fragment of a shell penetrated his brain, and his life was ended in a flash. 

Let nothing more be told of the sad story; nothing but simply this:he was killed, and the troops left in dismay and disorder-killed andborne to the last embrace of the wounded heart that knew no afteryears of healing-killed at Defiance, the place of weird, mysteriousterror to the widowed heart from the days of her sunnygirlhood-killed and buried away under the magnolia shade, among thehundreds of brave hearts that perished in the same unhappy cause. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

TIME stole along. Many months had slipped into the past since theday of the lamented Colonel Marshall's death-months of which thisnarrative has little to record, save that they were months of blood. 

Returning to the desolate wife, left by an adverse fate alone in herCuban home, we find her sadly changed. As sudden and unexpected ashad been the separation of Emile from his family, so shocking andviolent had been the affect of this trouble upon Leah's delicatenature. From the hour when Mr. Gardner informed her of her husband'smysterious disappearance, Leah sank down, overwhelmed with grief. Then for many weeks she lingered through an almost hopeless illness, to recover at length and find herself still alone. 

The hope of gaining strength to follow her husband was the one hopethat cheered her hours of convalescence, and stimulated the effortsof nature in the work of recovery. At last, time brought relief, andafter many months of weary waiting, hoping, watching, theopportunity was at hand for Leah to start in pursuit of her husband. Committed to the care of a kind-hearted man, himself the captain ofa blockade-runner, the anxious wife hoped to reach the shores of hernative State in safety. Unlike the treacherous Joe Haralson, thecaptain of the Cotton States, the vessel upon which Leah embarked, was not familiar with the sea-coast of many of the blockaded States;but, urged by her importunities, the kind captain determined, ifpossible, to land her in safety upon the coast of her native State. In this attempt, however, he was disappointed. It was late oneafternoon as the Cotton States was about to anchor safely in anobscure harbor of a small island near the main-land, when thecaptain discovered, far off on the sea, the dark form of a pursuinggun-boat. Immediately he put to sea, and fortunately, the gatheringshades of night obscured the pursued vessel in time to preventcapture. The next day, the Cotton States ran ashore on a lone, sparsely inhabited coast, and, anchored at Sandy Bar, a place knownto but few as a possible port of entry. 

In this obscure port of entry, the Cotton States was the only vesselthat had ever cast anchor. Here, erected on the shore, was a rude, commodious warehouse, built by the speculators who owned thisadventurous craft, and designed for the reception of the cotton thatwas taken out and the cargoes that were brought in by it. The careof this depot of supplies and unlawful merchandise was committed toa rather decrepit, but trustworthy old man, called familiarly "UncleJack Marner. " In a rude hut, near by this cache above ground, livedold Uncle Jack and his wife. Scipio, a trusty negro, was alsoemployed by the company to assist Uncle Jack in watching the depot, and was usually detailed to inform the owners of the vessel as soonas a cargo was landed. In this obscure harbor-the White Sandy Bar, as it was known to Uncle Jack, the captain, and the company-theCotton States was anchored and ready to deposit her cargo. 

"Madam, " said the captain to Leah, "I have done the best I could. Itried to land you nearer your home, but could not; I trust you willbear me no ill-will. "

"I can never forget your kindness, sir; once on land, no matter howfar from the Queen City, I know I can find my way there. I feelassured my husband is there, if living, and thither I shall go atonce. "

"Not alone?"

"Oh, yes; alone, if necessary. "

"Don't you fear the scouts and straggling soldiers that so infestthe land?"

"I fear nothing, captain. I am in search of my husband, and I shallseek him, though I perish in the effort. "

"Well, madam, I shall intrust you to the care of Uncle Jack Marner, and go away again knowing that you will be well cared for. There'sthe old man, and Scipio, at work with the hands unloading. I'll takeyou to his hut. "

Leah thanked him kindly, and taking her child in his arms, thecaptain led the way to the humble home of Uncle Jack, and introducedLeah to his wife. 

Without delay the Cotton States unloaded; loaded again; and was soononce more out at sea in safety. 

"It's a mighty weakly lookin' child, madam, " said kind Uncle Jack, when he returned to the hut, after the work on the ship was ended. "Is the little creetur sick?"

"No; but she is not very strong, Uncle Jack, " was Leah's reply. 

"Teethin', maybe? Teethin' ginerally goes hard with the littleones. "

"Yes, " Leah answered, "teething has made her delicate. "

"La, chile, the cap'n tells me you are bound for the Queen City;ain't you afeerd to go thar now, sich a power of shellin' goin' onthar?" And without waiting for a response, he continued, "I think, though, the war-dogs are gittin' tired, and will soon haul off. It'sno use tryin' to shell and batter down that fine old city. She neverwas made to surrender to any furrin' power; and surrender she neverwill. I'll bet on that. But, my chile, I should be afeerd to go tharnow, strong and supple a man as I am, much less a poor, weaklylookin' woman like yerself. "

"No, Uncle Jack, I am not afraid. The soldiers would not molest me, and the shells cannot strike me, so I go undaunted. I am seeking myhusband, and must find him. How far is it, Uncle Jack, to the QueenCity?"

"More'n a hundred mile, chile. "

"Can I obtain any conveyance about here to take me part of the way, at least?"

"Chile, thar's not a critter in twenty miles of this place, as Iknows on. Nobody lives hereabouts, but me an' the old woman, andScipio and Toby-that's the company's mule, you know; and Scipiorides Toby to --, when the vessel gits in safe, to tell the company. Scipio must start to-morrow to let the company know the boat is inagin, and when he gits back I'll take you part of the way to theQueen City. You kin ride Toby and I kin walk. I tole the cap'n I'dsee you on your way as far as I could. "

"When will Scipio return?" inquired Leah timidly. 

"Mebbe in a week, mebbe sooner. "

"Oh! I cannot stay here a week. I cannot stay a day. I am soimpatient to get on. If my husband is living, I must reach him. "

"But how can you go, chile?"

"Go alone, Uncle Jack. I assure you I am not afraid. "

By Jupiter! Jack Marner let a weakly lookin' woman like you startalone from his house, with no strong arm to pertect you? Never, never, never!" exclaimed the kind old man with emphasis, as he shookhis gray locks. 

"But there is no one to go with me, Uncle Jack; and as I cannottarry, I must go alone. I assure you I fear nothing. "

The old man continued to shake his head, though he made no reply;and then, handing little Sarah to her mother, he went out of thecabin for some wood, that was needed to prepare the evening meal. 

Night passed, and morning came soft and bright; and Leah, refreshedfrom her slumber, expressed the determination to pursue her journeyat once. 

"If you will go, the Lord go with you, chile; but I fears you willnever git thar. Twenty miles from here, you may find lodgings, andyou may not; what then?"

"Oh, I can take care of that; only give me the proper directions, ifyou can. "

"Keep nigh the coast as possible, an' if nothin' devours you, you'llfind the Queen City after awhile; but it's more'n a hundred mile, remember. I hate to see you go, I do. "

"Do not detain me, Uncle Jack. I cannot, must not stay. "

"Well, if go you must and will, I'll go with you till we reach theopen road; but I say again, you are welcome to stay here in mycabin, if you will. It's humble, I know, but old Jack Marner has hada sight better home than this, in his day. Yet I thank the Lord Ihave this one left;" and the old man brushed away a tear with histrembling hand, as he assisted the old woman in preparing some foodfor Leah's lonely journey. At an early hour they were ready tostart. Uncle Jack took little Sarah in his arms, and Leah bade adieuto the kind old wife, and following Uncle Jack, stepped out upon thesandy beach and turned her face toward the far-off, hidden road. 

For an hour or more, the pedestrians trudged slowly along, UncleJack endeavoring the while to amuse the child in his arms, who wouldever and anon stretch out its little arms and cry, "Mamma. " Withdowncast eye and heart, Leah moved steadily forward, heedingnothing, save the occasional cry of her child. Uncle Jack, as hewalked along, had broken a green bough from a swamp-myrtle, andgathered a spray of blue winter berries, which he bound together asa nosegay for the child. With these he charmed its baby fancy, andfoiled every endeavor to reach its mother's arms. At length thetrail was ended, and the open road reached. 

"Now, " said Uncle Jack, "we are here at last. This is the road thatleads to Sheltonville, the only place that lies in your way to theQueen City. Keep it straight, chile, an' mebbe you'll reach thar atlast; mebbe not; I don't know. Here, let's rest a minit under thiswater-oak. Sit down on the log; I'll warrant there's no snakes underit. "

Leah slightly smiled as she obeyed this command, and sat down on thecrumbling, moss-grown wood, saying:

"Uncle Jack, are there any rivers in my way to the Queen City?"

"None, chile, but the Little Black, and you kin cross that atSheltonville. It's a wonder those dev'lish soldiers hain't destroyedthe bridge, 'fore this; but they hadn't, the last I heered fromSheltonville. "

"Oh, I can get across, I guess, " replied Leah cheerfully. "Rivers, nor mountains either, can keep me from my husband now. If he is inthe city, I shall find him. " Here little Sarah began to cry, andshow signs of weariness. In vain Uncle Jack flourished the wildnosegay, whistled, sang, chirruped; the little creature would findlodgment in its mother's arms, and sleep on her faithful bosom. 

The sun was getting toward the half-way morning hour, when thelittle child awoke, and clinging around her mother's neck shecunningly averted her face from Uncle Jack, as if to say, "You shallnot have me again. I am tired of your wild nosegay. "

"Well now, " said Uncle Jack, "the little creetur is awake agin, andas spry as a cricket. Come to Uncle Jack, won't ye?"

"I must be going, " said Leah. "It's getting late. " And rising withthe child in her arms, she drew the small bundle of food andclothing that she carried closer to her, and said, "I am ready. Good-by. Keep straight ahead, must I?"

"Yes, chile, " replied Uncle Jack in a tremulous voice, "straightahead, and the good Lord be with ye. "

Leah was gone. She followed the sandy road pointed out by UncleJack's trembling finger, followed it till a small morass, thick withswamp-growth, hid her from his view; and then the old man said, ashe turned sorrowfully back toward his cabin, "Poor chile, she seemsto have a lot o' trouble in this troublesome world. And she's soyoung and purty, too. I thank the Lord there's a world upyonder"--and he cast his tear-dimmed eyes above--"where no moretrouble will never come; an' may ole Jack Marner be lucky enough togit thar. "

For ten long, weary days, Leah pursued the way that lay straight andunobstructed before her, every step bringing her nearer and nearerto the city of her childhood. Scarcely able, much of the time, toobtain food by day, or lodging by night, still she undauntedlypursued her way, and kept her eyes straight forward toward the end. Foraging parties, and straggling soldiers, passed occasionally, yetnot one syllable of disrespect or insult was offered to the lonelywoman as she passed along, the living impersonation of unfriendedhelplessness. 

At length, in pain, in weariness, in tears, the journey was almostaccomplished, and the evening of the tenth day was closing in. Thestars were stealing, one by one, into the blue heavens above, andthe bright lights of a hundred camp-fires, far and near, announcedthe welcome fact that the Queen City was near at hand. The strayshot, too, of some vigilant sentinel, reminded her that, withoutpassports, one could not easily find ingress to the once peaceful, hospitable city. As this thought came, Leah trembled; but she passedforward undaunted to the dreaded sentry line that stretched itselfacross her pathway. She was too weary to weep, too bewildered tothink, too anxious to do aught but look forward toward the advancingcity, with its myriad lights, and then down again at the innocentchild asleep on her bosom. Upon the breeze that came to greet her, as if in kindly welcome, she caught the note of the old familiarmusic of the chimes of St. Angelo. "Home, Sweet Home" rang out uponher weary ear with all the sweetness and familiarity of by-gonedays. 

"How changed is everything here; and, alas! how changed am I, " saidshe; and tottering beneath the burden of her child and the awakenedweight of memories, she would have fallen exhausted to the earth, but for a sharp, ringing voice, that said:

"Halt! Who comes there?"

Recalled to a sense of her true situation by this unexpectedinquiry, Leah summoned the remnant of her strength and courage, andreplied, "Only a woman, weak and tired. In heaven's name let mepass. "

"Advance, and give the countersign. "

"I cannot! indeed I cannot! But in mercy's name, give me rest andfood within the City this night, " she replied with a despairingvoice. 

"Whence do you come?"

"From Sandy Bar, some hundred miles away, and I have walked thewhole distance. I bring you no ill, or good news. I am nothing but apoor, helpless woman, faint and famishing. I pray you, in the nameof pity, let me pass, kind sentinel. "

Touched by these imploring words, the sentry looked furtively aroundhim, and replied softly, "Woman, be quick. Go on; and mind, if yousay that I passed you without the countersign, my head will pay theforfeit. Go on, for Tom Marbray hasn't the heart to say no to such alooking woman as you are. "

"God bless you!" murmured Leah; "bless you a thousand-fold;" and shehurried forward, and was soon lost in the winding streets of thecity, that was now overshadowed by the darkness of night. 

Once more within the familiar limits of the old city, she paused, and leaning against the angle of a shop, looked curiously about her, as if endeavoring to define certain localities. At length she saidsoftly:

"Yes, I see the Citadel, and Christ Church spire. But I must rest. I'll enter yonder inn. " She stepped forward toward a shabby lookingtavern a few doors off, where a crowd of garrulous soldiers weregrouped about the door. Too weary to observe any one, Leah staggeredinto the forlorn, miserably furnished reception-room of the GoodCheer House, and called for food and lodging for herself and childfor the night. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE ruddy beams of an October sun shone through the one window ofthe little rudely furnished room that Leah occupied in the inn. Weary from her long, toilsome journey, she still slept. Though tirednature for a time resisted the intrusion of the garish sunlight, thechirruping of her little child at length aroused Leah toconsciousness. The tiny, dimpled hands were tangled in the longblack hair that hung about the mother's shoulders in dishevelledgrace, and the merry child laughed gleefully as the mother awoke. 

"Is my bird always ready to sing?" said Leah tenderly, as she beheldthe innocent, happy child by her side. "May you never know a note ofsadness, my love; sing on, while you may. " Then Leah sadly turnedher eyes upward to the cracked, stained wall overhead, and faintlymurmured, "Here I am at last, alone-alone in the Queen City, friendless and penniless-alone in the place where I once possessedthousands-alone in my search for the only being who loves me, inthis wide world-alone, with nothing to cheer me but my own faithful, resolute heart. When that fails me I shall find rest. Poor, belovedEmile!"

Overcome by weariness, anxiety, and fear, Leah covered her face withthe coarse brown coverlet of her bed, and wept and sobbed in verybitterness of heart. At length, astonished at the withdrawal of itsmother's smile, the child cried; and ceasing to weep, Leah claspedthe helpless creature to her bosom in a fond, impassioned embrace. "God keep you, blessed one!" she said with deepest pathos. "Heavenshield you, my angel, from such sorrow as now fills your mother'sheart! But I must be up and doing. Weeping will not accomplish theend and object of my coming. "

Arising resolutely, she hastily performed their simple toilets, anddescended the narrow stairway to the breakfast-room. 

The plain repast was soon over, the coarse, garrulous inmates of theinn departed, and Leah with her child sat alone in the ill-furnishedreception-room. She had sent a wiry-looking little negro boy for theproprietor, and was awaiting his appearance. Suddenly a thump, thump, thump, sounded along the narrow entry, and a short, red-faced, bald-headed, pompous looking old man, with a wooden leg, stood before her. 

"Madam, " he said, bowing obsequiously, "is it yourself that desiredmy presence? Cricket told me-we call that limber-looking littlenigger Cricket-that a lady desired to see me in the drawing-room. "

"Whom have I the honor of addressing?" said Leah, with difficultyrepressing a smile excited by the grotesque appearance of the man. "I desired to see the proprietor. "

"Exactly so, madam, and my name is Michael Moran, the proprietor ofthe Good Cheer House these twenty years. "

"And have you remained in the Queen City during all these dreadfulmonths of shelling?" said Leah, whose heart was at once brightenedby the hope that she might gather some desired information from him. 

"Oh, yes, child-beg pardon, madam, but, really, you look like achild. Michael Moran is not the man to desert the post of duty intimes of danger. You see, madam"--and he pointed to the woodenstump--"you see, I had the misfortune to lose a member in the Mexicanwar. That wooden stump speaks yet of Michael Moran's bravery, and Iam the same brave man to-day that I was in 'forty-seven, alwaysready to serve my country. "

"Yes, " replied Leah, "but you are too old to do much for yourcountry now. "

"Yes; that is to say, I am not able to take up arms, but then I havedone valiant service by furnishing a very comfortable, thoroughlyrespectable wayside home for my country's unfortunate children. Yousee, madam, the Good Cheer House is known far and near as the placeto find good food and lodging, at very reasonable prices. Thesoldiers-alas! I know what a soldier's life is, " and the old manlaid his fat, plump hand on his heart, "the soldiers, I say, findout the house of Michael Moran, and enjoy the good cheer hedispenses. "

The old man, once started, would have continued his remarks adinfinitum, had not Leah bravely interrupted him by asking:

"Can you tell me, sir, if any of the refugees have yet returned?"

"A good many, madam. You see this infernal old shelling, althoughit's pretty pesky business, hasn't done much harm, after all. Itbattered down a few fine houses, and killed some men, but then Idon't believe the Queen City will never surrender; and by Erin Ihope it never will. If the soldiers, to a man, possessed the heartof Michael Moran, they would stand out till--"

"Can you tell me anything of the Le Grande family-Judge Le Grande, Imean?" again interrupted Leah bravely. 

"The judge? Oh, yes; I think they went to France some months ago, "replied Michael, with an air of profound satisfaction at possessingsome slight acquaintance with so distinguished a man as the judge;and patting his knee with his plump hand, he continued, "You see thejudge was not particularly a war man, and--"

"Do you know anything of the Levys?" again cut short the oldinn-keeper's volubility. 

"The Levys? Oh, yes; they fled long ago, and are now roving the faceof the earth. The bombs well-nigh tore down old Levy's house, and Iguess that will about kill him, as he is as stingy as a man well canbe. If he had stayed by his suffering city, as Michael Moran has--"

"But Mrs. Levy was a widow, " interrupted Leah, seeing that the oldman was coining his information as he went, for the purpose of hisown exaltation. "Her husband has been dead these many years. "

Determined not to be baffled in this quiet way, Michael replied, "Well, this was another man, madam, " and fearing Leah mightdiscredit his fabricated story, he added, "I swear by Erin it wasanother man. "

"Well, sir, can you tell me anything of the Mordecai family-Mr. Benjamin Mordecai?" said Leah, with a slightly tremulous voice. 

The old man's eye brightened up, and he slapped his fat hand uponhis knee with renewed force and rapidity, and replied, with aninquisitive squint in his face, "Are you a Jew?"

"I am a Jewess, sir, " she said softly. "I feel an interest in mypeople. What can you tell me of the Mordecais. "

"Well, child, then listen to me again. I say emphatically madam, now. Well, old Ben Mordecai he was a mighty rich man, had a bankmany, many years, and lots and piles of gold. In fact, he was mybanker at one time in my life, and to-day he can testify as towhether Michael Moran was or wasn't a thrifty man and the Good CheerHouse a paying institution. Some years ago though, I moved mybusiness to another bank, ahem!" Here the old man eyed Leah sharply, to see if these hints respecting his pecuniary status did notimpress her profoundly. Then he continued, "Well, I was aboutstating-Well, where was I?" he said, with a puzzled look of regret, as though he had lost, or was about to lose, some cherished remark, so bewildering had been the thought in reference to his moneymatters, "where was I?"

"You were speaking of Mr. Mordecai's having left the Queen City, "kindly suggested Leah, seeing the old man's embarrassment. 

"Oh yes; my head gets a little muddy sometimes, " said the inn-keeperapologetically, as he rubbed his rosy hand, this time briskly acrossthe bald, sleek surface of his head. "Well, the Mordecais wentaway, and I am told a poor family moved into the old man's house toprotect it. But the other week, a shell came whizzing into the cityand tore off one corner of his fine house. I tell you, madam, theold man had a fine house, sure. And, madam, old Mordecai had a fineguirl once, and a few years ago she ran away and married somefellow, and it well-nigh broke the old man's heart. They ran away, and went somewhere; I think it was to the Island of Cuby. My bankertold me this. You see, madam, my resources are yet such, that mybanking business is quite burdensome to me. The Good Cheer House isa fine paying institution, sure, and--"

"But what of the unfortunate daughter?" inquired Leah faintly. 

"Well, as I was about remarking, they went away to Cuby, and somemonths ago, perhaps a year or so, they caught the scamp out there, and smuggled him to this country, to be punished for a murder hecommitted some years ago, long before he was married. "

Leah's heart throbbed wildly in her bosom, and every limb trembledlike an aspen; but the old man did not detect her emotion, andcontinued:

"He will soon be tried here. I hear the friends of the dead man andthe Mordecais are pushing up the trial. When the trial comes off, Iguess the banker's family will come back. "

"Is the unfortunate man confined in the old city prison here?"inquired Leah, with a faltering voice. 

"Yes, madam. At one time a shell struck the old prison, and some ofthe inmates came nigh escaping, but they have had it repaired, andnow it's pretty full, sure. If a bomb could strike it, and finishall the inmates at once, I guess that would suit them. I don't knowwhy else they keep that jail full of thieves and murderers. I am toobusy with my wayside house, giving cheer and comfort to myunfortunate countrymen, to bother much about the jail-birds. Yes, Michael Moran is too busy for that. "

"What is my bill, sir?" said Leah faintly, oblivious of the wordyMichael's harangue, and thinking only of the prison-the dim, darkprison, where her husband was languishing. "I have no money butgold, " she continued; "how much do I owe you for my food andlodging?"

"Gold!" repeated Michael with eager emphasis; and then, as iffearing to betray his characteristic love of the shining ore, headded with an air of indifference, "well, I guess, as you havenothing else, gold will do. You owe me--" and he named a certain sum. "Remarkable low price. Michael Moran hasn't the heart to be hard ona woman; and I know you'll be sorry, to your dyin' day, that you hadto quit the Good Cheer House so soon. "

Leah made no reply and evinced no regret, as she handed out, fromher low supply of money, the amount demanded. Hurrying away from theinn, with the child in her arms, she hastened forward toward thedismal jail that, as she well remembered, was many streets away. 

On the same bright October morning that opened the eyes of Leah inthe Queen City, Emile Le Grande was pacing to and fro in his prisoncell at an early hour. The confinement of so many long, weary monthshad left its impress on every feature; and pale and emaciated hescarcely resembled his former self. Before him, on a tin platter, was the coarse prison breakfast, as yet untasted. Restless andmiserable, he trod backward and forward within the narrow limits ofhis cell, now glancing up at the sunlight that streamed through thenarrow window so far above his head, then turning his ready ear tocatch the sound of every human footstep that trod the corridors, ormoved in the adjoining cells of this wretched place. 

Despair had settled upon him, and death was a coveted visitor. "Isit myself, " he muttered, as he convulsively ran his fingers throughhis hair, grown long from neglect, "or is it some other unfortunatewretch? Have I a wife and child on a far-off foreign shore, or isthis thought a horrid, hideous nightmare, that comes to harrow mybrain? O birds of the air, I envy you! O breezes that wander, I envyyou! O sunlight, that streams through my window, give me my freedom, my freedom, I pray!"

Overpowered by these thoughts, the wretched man, enfeebled in mindas well as body, sank down upon the hard pallet, when the sound offootsteps was again heard along the corridor, coming nearer, nearer, nearer to his cell door. Startled, Emile heard the bolt draw backonce more and the door open, and the jailer stood before him. 

"Le Grande, " he said, "there's a woman below says she must see you-abeggar; shall I bring her up?"

"Yes, man, in the name of mercy, bring her up. I'd see a dog thatwould come to me in this lonely place. Bring her up, beggar or not, though I have nothing to give her. "

The jailer withdrew, and Emile's heart beat wildly from the strangeannouncement that even a beggar wished to see him in hiswretchedness now. 

Again the footsteps resounded in the corridor, coming nearer, nearer, nearer, to the cell. 

Emile had risen from his pallet, and searching in his pocket said, "I haven't even so much as a fourpence for the poor old soul. "

The cell door opened. Emile saw the jailer, and a woman with achild. His eye flashed bright, his heart leaped to his throat. Thewoman's face grew paler, and tottering forward she fell upon theprisoner's bosom, and gasped, "My husband!"

He said, "Thank God. My wife! my wife! my child!"

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

IT were impossible to chronicle the half that transpired in theeventful days of those eventful years. Days seemed months, andmonths seemed years, in their sad, slow progress. When the heart ishappy, Time's wing is light, but as every soul was sorrowful inthose dark days, so the progress of the years was slow and dreary. 

To none was the time so dark, and hopeless, as to Emile while helanguished in prison, and to Leah, as she waited for an uncertainreunion. But the hopeless days had passed, and in unutterable joythe husband and wife clasped each other again. Now, she was never toleave him till the stern fiat of the law should decide his guilt orinnocence. In an obscure abode, within the very shadow of the jail, Leah obtained a temporary home. The inadequacy of her means wouldhave forbidden her more comfortable accommodations. But she desiredonly to dwell in obscurity, and be near, and with her husband, inhis loneliness and misfortune. Without comment or observation, shepassed in and out of the jail as frequently as the stern prison-lawwould allow. The jailer was a man who had occupied a higher positionin life, and had sought this place to evade the merciless grasp ofconscription. Often had he wondered at the pale, lovely face of thisunhappy wife, and marked her tenderness toward the child that neverseemed to weary the faithful arms that bore it so constantly about. "That woman has a history, " the jailer often said to himself. 

But the days passed, and ere Leah had been a month within the QueenCity, the trial was at hand. Pressing measures in these awfullychaotic times, Mr. Mordecai was about to bring his culprit tojustice, from fear that delay would prove dangerous, if notdisastrous, to his purposes. 

"My darling, " said Emile to his wife, the day before the proposedtrial, "I desire that you shall not be present during theinvestigation of to-morrow. I fear you may be subjected to insultand indignity which I cannot resent, being in bonds. Besides, dear, you can do me no good. "

"Will my father be there, Emile?"

"I suppose that he will. "

"Then I cannot be present. I feel that I could never meet myfather's eye, unless I knew I had his forgiveness and his lovestill. But how can I leave you?"

"Remain quietly, dear, at your boarding-place, and await, hopefully, the end. I trust it will all be right. I know I am innocent, " saidEmile, with a forced effort at cheerfulness. 

"Heaven grant they may find you guiltless! But oh! Emile, I fear, Ifear, I fear something-I cannot tell you how it is, but from the dayyou were taken from our happy Cuban home, not a ray of hope hasilluminated my heart. "

"You must be brave, Leah, your sadness will weigh me down, and Icannot, must not go into the presence of my accusers with aught buta look of defiant innocence. Be brave, be cheerful, for my sake, andthe sake of our innocent child. "

"Can I see you during the trial?"

"I suppose not; but as it will consume but a few days at most, youcan remain quietly at your lodgings till the end. "

"The twilight is gathering in your window, Emile, " said Leah, aftera thoughtful silence. "I should have gone an hour ago; your supperwill be late to-night, dear; but oh! I fear to leave you! It seemsas though you were going to your burial, to-morrow. What will becomeof me? What will become of our helpless darling?"

Distracted by the plaintive words and agonized look of his wife, Emile said:

"Would you madden me, Leah? Have I not asked you to be brave, evenunto the end? If you falter now, I am lost. My health and mystrength are already gone. Only the consciousness of innocencesustains me. Leave me now. Sheer me with the hope of acquittal, andbe brave as only a woman can be. "

"Forgive me, Emile; forgive my weakness; and when we meet again, maythe sunshine of a brighter, happier day, dawn over us. Good-by, myown Emile, my own beloved husband, " and the wretched wife laid herhead upon the true, innocent heart of Emile, and wept her lastburning tears of sorrow. 

CHAPTER XL. 

FROM the day that Leah first found her husband in the prison, andobserved the coarse, uninviting fare that was served to theprisoners, she had daily prepared his food herself, and supplied it, too, from her scanty purse. By the permission of the jailer, thisfood was received twice a day from the hands of a trusty negrowoman, known to many of the prison inmates as Aunt Dinah. 

On this same evening when Leah parted so sadly from her husband, shewent at once to her lodging place, and quickly prepared the temptingevening meal. After she had gone, Emile, once more alone, croucheddown in a corner of his shadowy cell, and was lost in sorrowfulrevery, till the jailer, unheeded, opened the cell-door and handedin a basket, saying:

"Le Grande, here's a supper for a king. Cheer up, man, and eat it. Old Dinah brought it from your wife, and she says the bread is'perticklar fine. '"

"I want no supper to-night, jailer. But I'll keep it, for my wife'ssake. "

"Old Dinah said you must eat, whether you craved food or not; saidyou must eat to be strong. " The jailer deposited the small basketthat contained the tempting brown buns and some cold slices of ham, and departed. 

For a moment Emile still remained crouched in his corner, andlistened to the dying footsteps of the retreating jailer; thenrousing himself, he moved forward, and lifting up the basket, said:

"For love's sake, I'll taste the bread, not from hunger. Heavenknows when I shall feel hunger again. " The daylight was nearly gone, but enough light penetrated the dismal cell to reveal the contentsof the basket. Taking up a soft brown loaf, he turned it in hishand, then laid it down. Again he picked it up, and said, "It is sonice, for love's sake I'll taste it. " Then he broke it gently, andthere fell into his hand from it a small piece of brown paper. Astonished, he opened it, and read these words:

"An unknown friend wishes to help you. Meet me at midnight at theprison gate. I'll save you. Skeleton keys and wires will enable youto escape, Find them in the buns. As you value your life and libertymeet me. "

"What means this?" said the terrified prisoner. "Is Heaven kind atlast?" and then he curiously and cautiously opened the bread that, sure enough, yielded up the secreted appliances for effecting hisescape. In astonishment, even terror, Emile held these unlawfullittle contrivances in his hand for a time, eyeing them curiously, and then half-fearfully tucked them away in his bosom. 

"Who is this unknown friend, I wonder, that so desires my escape?"pondered Emile, as he watched the darkening twilight as it withdrewthe last vestige of daylight from his cell. "Can it be Leah who hasdone this, my own desolate Leah? Can she save me at last? She uponwhose heart I have innocently brought such sorrow anddisappointment? Alas! alas! dear heart! But should it prove some oneelse, how can I leave my wife and child? What if it should prove tobe an enemy trying to betray me into further trouble? And yet I donot fear. This dreary cell has made me tired of life, and death werewelcome if it comes in the struggle for freedom! No, I cannot stay;I'll leave this cursed place, though I be betrayed again-leave it, though my escape may take me heaven knows where-leave it, and hope abrighter future is bringing me prosperity and a peaceful reunionwith those who are so dear to me. Stay I cannot, I dare not. Mytormentors are insatiable, my innocence disbelieved, my friendsgone; money I have none. I shrink from the coming ordeal. Thepromise of freedom is offered me. I accept it. 

"The clock is striking midnight. It is dark, very dark, little keys;but perhaps you will not fail me. Now I leave this cursed place;yes, leave it, I hope, to walk the earth again in freedom. Blast myaccusers!" whispered the excited prisoner as he softly applied themysterious, slender-looking key to the heavy lock. "Ha! how thelock yields to this delicate spring! Softly! softly! or I maydisturb some sleeping inmate! God knows how many weary vigils arekept in this wretched abode. I'll tread this narrow corridor nomore, I hope. Heavens! The outer bolt, too, withdraws, and God'sblue dome and bright stars are above me! I am free from these cursedwalls! Now the gate yields, too! I am free! free! Thank God, freeonce more!"

As Emile emerged from the prison-gate, and it swung noiselessly backto its place, he gazed anxiously about, and at once descried a dark, half-bent figure of a man approaching him. His heart trembled. 

"Mars' Emile, " said a low voice, as the unknown figure approachedclose to him, "Mars' Emile Le Grande, don't you know me? I am hereas I promised. "

Affrighted at this seeming apparition, Emile shrank back, saying, "Stand back, man or devil, whatever you may be! Who are you? What doyou want?" he continued, as the unknown figure essayed to lay holdof his arm. 

"Hush! hush! We may be overheard. Don't be afraid. I come tobefriend you. Mars' Emile, don't you know me?" said the little oldman, as he pushed back the slouched hat from his face, and peeredinto Emile's eyes. "Don't you know old Peter Martinet?"

"What! old Uncle Peter, who carried the 'Courier' so long ago?" saidEmile in astonishment. 

"De very same, Mars' Emile. I'se de same old darkey now dat I wasyears ago, only not quite so spry. You see I'se crippled wid derheumatiz a little. But come along wid me, man; don't wait here anylonger; we may be found out. "

"Is my wife with you?" whispered Emile eagerly. 

"La, no, man; your wife knows nuffin ob dis plot. We must hurry. "

And can I not see her, Peter?"

"No, man, if you wish to escape de bloodhounds dat are on yourtrack. You had better be quick, too. "

"I must see my wife. "

"Be brave, man; be brave. Why did you leave de jail, if you didn'twish to 'scape? Come along faster. "

"But where are you going?" replied Emile, as he mechanicallyfollowed the hobbling guide. 

"Here, this way, follow me. I'll tell you by'mby;" and then haltingwithin the shadow of a protecting building, the old man stooped torub the afflicted limbs, and said softly, "You see, Mars' Emile, I'se kept my eye on you, eber since dey brought you here to jail. I'se nebber left the Queen City, and nebber will, an' I 'tended allde w'ile, dat you should git away, if you wanted to. I'se made planafter plan, and dey would not work, but at last I got help frominside, an' den I got de keys; den I knew you was safe, if you couldonly git 'em. So I hired ole Dinah to make some extry bread and slipinto your basket after your wife had fixed your supper. Dat was allI could do. I heard de trial was to come off to-morrow, and but forde rheumatiz, de keys would have been ready a week ago. You know, Mars' Emile, old Peter part Affikin, and what he can't do, no uddernigger need try. He, he, he!"

"But where are you going?" interrupted Emile. 

"Well, Mars' Emile, der's a blockader lying off de Bar. I'se gwineto take you to it. " Emile shuddered. 

"Nebber fear. If you stays on land, dey'll git you, shure, an' Iknows ebry foot ob de harbor as well as I do de city. Ain't PeterMartinet been here eber since the Revolution War? No man here knowsde harbor better dan me, tripedoes or no tripedoes. Dey can't blowme up, dat's shure. Come, let's go, be quick, and be sly too. "

Emile followed as one in a dream. Not daring, or caring, to questionhis guide, until they were safely on the edge of a pier that wasseveral feet above the sea. 

"What now?" he said. 

"All right. I have a bateau tied down da, waitin' for us. Her's derope to slide down. But as you'se afeerd, mebbe I'd better go downfust. Here goes! I'se afeerd of nuffin, 'specially in de harbor. "Emile peered over the edge of the pier, and shuddered, as he saw thedark figure disappear below. 

"All right agin, safe and sound. Come on. Mind yer hold. Be brave, man, don't lose yer courage now, or you may be a jail-bird de restof yer days. He, he, he!"

Stimulated to action by this stinging remark of old Peter, Emileseized the rope, glided slowly down the wall, and landed safely inthe boat below. 

"Now I guess we's safe; no one can git us now, " chuckled old Peter, as he grasped the oars and rowed away. 

Emile made no reply, and for a time the plash of the oars was theonly sound that broke the stillness. 

"Do you know that they'll receive me?" at length said Emile, as hesaw the shore receding. 

"Oh, yes; more'n once have I carried men to the blockaders-some whodidn't want to fight, and some who had friends on the udder side. Dey allus paid ole Peter well, and he nebber fail to git 'em awaysafe. He, he, he. "

"Why did you do this for me, Peter? For me who had scarcely a friendin the world; for me, who can repay you in nothing but gratitude?"asked Emile with emotion. 

"Oh, old Peter don't always work for money; sometime he do for love. It's for love this time, Mars' Emile. "

"How far is the vessel away, Peter?"

"Five mile from de pier; you see de lights ob de vessel yonder, sir. "

Emile was silent, thinking of the desolate wife and unfortunatechild whom he was leaving farther behind at every stroke of theoars. 

"I must send a letter back by you, Peter; promise me that my wifeshall get it. "

"I promise, Mars' Emile. But be brave, man, be brave; rememberyou'se a free man now; freedom mighty sweet, Mars' Emile. I'se benfree dese twenty years, eber sence old Marster Martinet died. He ginme freedom. Ship ahoy, here we are, " said the old negro, as he camealongside of the grim iron-clad, that stood like a huge rock inmid-ocean. Then the old man blew a shrill whistle through his handsthat penetrated to the inmost recess of the man-of-war. 

"Halloo! Is it you, Peter?" screamed back the mate, as he swung ahuge lantern over the side of the vessel and looked down into thewater below. "What brings you now, old humpback?"

"A friend, a man, a recruit to your sarvice, if ye wish. Take him, an' do as you please. "

"Won't you come aboard, old Peter?" added the jolly tar, aroused toreceive the escaping prisoner. "It's been so long since we saw you, we did not know but a shell had picked you up. Come aboard, General, we'll show you some more bombs. "

"Not this time, cap'n, my rheumatiz is rather bad for so muchclimbin. ' I'll jes' wait down here for a letter. Ole Peter Martinetain't feered of fishes. He, he, he!"

Emile's letter was written and handed to old Peter, who was soonagain steering landward. When the sun shone again in the Queen City, old Peter was hobbling along his daily round of duty, singingoccasionally in his own peculiar way, and wearing an expression asinnocent as though the night-time had been an undisturbed season ofpeaceful repose and beautiful dreams. 

A letter found upon the door-way of Leah's lodgings, addressed toher, was picked up and handed to her about the hour that the jailwas thrown into a tumult of consternation over the discovery thatEmile Le Grande had escaped. 

How and whence this letter came was ever a mystery. "U. S. BLOCKADER"THUNDERBOLT. " "Two o'clock A. M. 

"BELOVED LEAH: The die is cast, that divides us again. Fate, thathas so long seemed cruel, has again been kind. Unlooked-for, unhoped-for aid reached me in my prison-cell, and enabled me toescape. I know I am innocent of crime; Heaven knows it; but I fearedmy tormentors. Those who sought me on a foreign shore, wouldcertainly move earth and sky to prove my guilt. I hope for abrighter day, when we shall be reunited in peace and happiness. Icould do nothing for you, were I to stay and brave the storm thatawaits me. It might engulf me. I go, with the hope of a brightfuture yet. Whither I shall go I know not. Maybe to France, where myfather has gone. I have nothing to remain in this country for butyourself; and I cannot, and dare not stay near you. Heaven shieldand keep you and my child till I can send you succor! If I live, itwill come, though it cost my life to obtain it. I dare not lookahead; but be hopeful and brave, faithful, loving Leah, andpatiently await a brighter day. When this wretched war is ended, ifI cannot come to you, you shall come to me. Living, longing, hoping, for that coming time, with a thousand embraces I am, and shall everbe, "Your devoted EMILE. 

"My time is short, I can write no more. "

Bravely, calmly, Leah read this fatal letter; and then, with afortitude and heroism peculiar to her own glorious people, shefolded it, and placed it upon her heart, so torn by sorrow andsuspense. After the first shock of disappointment was over, sheturned her thoughts to the formidable question, how she should earnbread for herself and her child; and when once her plans were made, she carried them out resolutely, in poverty, weakness, andobscurity. Of the days, months, and years that passed over herheroic head, with their trials, struggles, disappointments, tears, heart-aches, and agonies, before death brought relief, this record, in pity, is silent. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

THE war-cloud rolled away. The dark, wild, sanguinary cloud, thathad swept with such devastating fury over a land where war wasdeemed impossible, was passed. The roar of cannon ceased, the rattleof musketry was no more heard in the land. Again the nation was atpeace, undismembered, triumphant. Once more its proud flag floated, unmolested and gay, from every rampart and flag-staff in the widedomain. On the one hand, there were bonfires and pealing bells, huzzahs, greetings, congratulations, rejoicings over the terminationof the conflict, while on the other, sorrow and mourning, lamentation and despair, filled the homes of a people, whose heartswere bleeding, and whose hopes were crushed. All, all was gone. Onlythe cypress wreath was left, to remind of loved ones slain, andbeggary, want, and famine to point with ghastly fingers to the past. The sweet sunshine fell lovingly again upon that worn section of theland, to find its fertile fields deserted, its homes destroyed, andits people cast down. Here and there, everywhere, far and wide, inmany States, where the tread of the monster War was heaviest, onlythe silent chimneys and the neglected gardens gave token that thespot was once the homestead of a happy, happy family. Deem this nosensational record to elicit sympathy from stranger hearts. Only thesympathy of heaven avails in man's extremity; and that sympathy, thank God, his war-worn people have had. 

This same memorable time that brought peace to the nation with suchunexpected suddenness, found hundreds, even thousands of people, still refugees. Then many, regathering their shattered hopes andcourage, sought their former homes. Many, alas! dispirited by lossof friends and fortune, dared not turn their sorrowful eyesbackward, but chose rather to remain quietly where the final crashhad found them. Refugee! O reader, kind or careless reader, thinknot lightly or scornfully of the word. 

So far as possible, the scattered denizens of the Queen City hadreturned to their scarred homes. Many who at the time of theirdeparture counted their thousands, and even millions, came back incomparative beggary. Yet back, back, back, they came, who could, tothis mutilated Mecca of their hearts. 

Mr. Mordecai again occupied his palatial home, which had survivedthe wreck of bombardment, and, unlike hundreds of his unfortunatefellow-citizens, he was unimpoverished. Aside from the good fortunethat had attended his financial arrangements in this country duringthe period of conflict, he had also a banking connection in England, that would alone have made him a rich man. 

So back to his home Mr. Mordecai came, not in poverty and want, notin sackcloth and mourning for the slain, and yet not in joy orcontentment. From the fearful day when he lost his beautifuldaughter, his heart had been darkened and his hopes destroyed, andthrough the eventful years that had slipped on since he last beheldher face, a feeling of unrelenting bitterness had possessed hissoul. Always angry with Leah and with the man who had led her intodisobedience, he now felt still more bitter toward him, as he deemedhim a felon, a murderer, unpunished and unforgiven. The change ofplace and scene, the rushing and hurrying of events during the yearsof refugee life, had tended somewhat to crowd from his mind thethoughts of his lost daughter; but now that he was back again, backin the old home, where every niche and corner, flower and shrub, were associated with her memory, the father was miserableindeed-miserable because he well knew that somewhere upon the broadearth, Leah, if living at all, was living in loneliness anddreariness, in poverty and sorrow. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

THE first spring of peace gave place to summer, a summer memorablefor its intense heat. One afternoon, toward the latter part of July, clouds dark and angry overcast the sky, and peals of thunder andflashes of lightning threatened a terrific storm. Pedestrianshurried homeward, and man and beast sought safety under shelter. Thewaters of the quiet harbor, tossed by rude winds, grew angry androse in white-capped breakers, that broke against the wharves, piers, and fortresses, as far as the eye could see. Sea-gullsscreamed and flew wildly about at this ominous appearance of theheavens, while the songsters of the woods, and the pigeons of thebarn-yard, sought shelter from the approaching tempest. Atnight-fall the rain descended in torrents. 

Safely sheltered in his comfortable home, Mr. Mordecai sat for anhour or more, watching, from his library window, the fury of thestorm. The tall, graceful cedars and olive trees that adorned thefront and side gardens of his home, were swaying in the wind whichrudely snatched from their trellises the delicate jessamine andhoneysuckle vines that lent such delicious odor to the eveningwinds. It tore the flowers from their stems, and the rain peltedthem into the earth in its fury. Leaves were whisked from theirbranches, and blown out of sight in a twinkle. A weak-hingedwindow-shutter of the attic was ruthlessly torn away and pitchedheadlong into the street. All this Mr. Mordecai watched inamazement, and then, as if some sudden apparition of thought or ofsight had appeared before him, he turned from the window with ashudder, and said:

"This is a devilish wild night. I'll drop the curtain. "

Seating himself then, by a brightly-shining lamp-the Queen City gasworks had been destroyed by the shelling guns-he clasped his armsacross his breast, and looked steadily up toward the ticking clockupon the mantel. Thus absorbed in reverie, he sat for an hour; andwas only disturbed then by a loud rapping at the front door. 

"By Jerusalem! who can be out this wild night?"

The rapping sounded again, louder than before. 

"Mingo!" he exclaimed involuntarily. "Ah! the dog is free now, andonly answers my summons at his will. Good boy, though. "

The rapping was repeated. 

"I must go myself. Who can be so importunate, on this dark, wretchednight? No robber would be so bold!" and grasping the lamp, he glidedsoftly toward the front door. He turned the bolt cautiously, andopening the door a little, peered out. 

"Come, Mordecai, open the door, " said a friendly voice without. "Doyou suspect thieves this foul night? No wonder. "

Mr. Mordecai opened the door wider and saw Rabbi Abrams, and a manso disguised that he could not tell whether it was any one he knew. 

"What do you want, my friend?" he said kindly. 

"Want you to go with us, Mordecai, " replied the rabbi, drawingcloser his cloak, which the wind was trying to tear away. 

"Go where?" asked Mr. Mordecai in consternation. "Only the devilsthemselves could stand, such a night as this. "

"Come, be quiet, my friend. I am summoned by this unknown friend, togo with him to see a certain person who must see me, must see you, too. That's all I know. Come along. "

"Don't wait, my friend, time is precious, " said the muffled voice ofthe unknown man. 

Mr. Mordecai frowned and shrugged his shoulders dubiously. 

"Fear no evil, my friend, but come with me, " continued the strangerin a reassuring tone. 

"The storm will not destroy us, Mordecai; I have tried its fury sofar, " said the rabbi. "Come on. "

Reluctantly Mr. Mordecai obeyed, and hastily preparing himself forthe weather, turned out into the darkness and the storm, with therabbi and the guide. 

Onward they went, struggling against the wild wind and rain, and fewwords were uttered by either as they proceeded on their unknown way. At length the guide stopped suddenly, at the corner of a lonely, obscure street, and said:

"There, gentlemen; in that low tenement opposite, where a lightgleams from the window, you will find the person who desires to seeyou. Hasten to him. I shall be back before you leave. Ascend thestairway and turn to the left. Open the door yourself; there will beno one inside to admit you. " Having uttered these words, the guidedisappeared in the darkness, and Mr. Mordecai and the rabbi wereleft alone. 

"What can this mean, Rabbi Abrams?" said Mr. Mordecai in a lowvoice, greatly excited; "suppose it should prove some plot to decoyus into trouble? I shall not go a step farther; we may be robbed oreven murdered in that miserable place. You know this is Dogg'sAlley, and it never was a very respectable locality. What say you?"

"I feel no fear, Friend Mordecai, though I admit the summons ismysterious. If you will follow, I will lead the way. My curiosityimpels me onward. "

"But there's no watchman on this lonely beat, on this wild night, that we could summon in a moment of necessity; no street-lampeither, you see. It's dark, fearfully dark! Had we not better waittill to-morrow?"

"No, come on. I am fond of adventure. Let's see a little fartherinto this mystery;" and so saying, the rabbi boldly crossed theslippery street, Mr. Mordecai following timidly behind. They weresoon standing in the narrow door-way that led up the stairs. Theyascended slowly, and turning to the left, they discerned through thecrevice beneath the door, a faint light. To this chamber they softlygroped their way, and tapped gently on the door. No reply. 

"Shall we go in?" whispered the banker. "This is an awfullysuspicious place. "

"Yes, come on; I do not feel afraid. "

Gently turning the bolt, they opened the door; the lamp upon thetable by the window revealed the contents of the apartment. 

In a corner, upon a rude bed, lay a man, a negro, evidently sick, whose widely glaring eyes were turned upon the door, as if inexpectation of their coming. Slowly lifting his hand as theyentered, the sick man beckoned the gentlemen toward him. They drewnear. 

"Sir, " he said, and so faintly that his voice did not rise above awhisper, "I'm glad you come. I was 'feerd the rain would keep youaway. " Then he grasped the hand of the rabbi with his cold, clammyfingers, and with an intense gaze of the wild eyes, said again, "Doyou know me, Marster Abrams? Tell me, do you know me?"

The rabbi looked earnestly at him and after a moment's pause saiddubiously:

"Is it old Uncle Peter Martinet, the carrier of the 'Courier'?"

"De-same-marster, de-werry-same. But-de-end-ob-ole-Peter-is-nigh-at-hand, marster-wery nigh-at-hand! Las'-winter-was hard-an'-w'ende-work-ob de-Curyer-stop-it-went-mighty-hard-on-ole-Peter. De-rheumatiz-marster! De rheumatiz? Bref-so-short!Doctor-say-it's-de-rheumatiz on-de-heart now. Mebbeso-marster-but-ole-Peter-mos'-done-now. "

"Can I do anything for you, Peter?" asked the rabbi kindly. "Whatwill you have?"

At these words, the dying man, for he was dying, extended his otherhand to Mr. Mordecai, and clasping his, said:

"Yes, marster-I want-somethin'. I-want-you-and-Mr. Mordecai-to-listen-to me; listen-to-me-a-moment. I-have-something-to-to-tell-you. "

"Certainly we will, " they replied gently, observing with pain thedifficulty of the dying man's utterance. "What do you wish to say?"

"You-see, Marster-Abrams, I-am-dying. Ole-Peter-mos-done. I-can-not-go-before God with-the-sin-upon-my-soul-that-now-distresses-me. Imust tell it-for-I die. "

Here the old man strangled, from the effort made to communicate hisstory, and the rabbi, gently raising his head, administered aspoonful of water. Then, after a moment's pause, he continued:

"Ise-been-a-great-sinner, to keep my-mouf-shut-so long; but-I couldnot-help it. Ole Peter-was feered-but now-I'se feered-no more. Soon-I'll be wid-de great God-who has-know'd my secret too-an' Ifeel-He will-forgive me-if-I-'fess it-'fore-I die. I know-he-will, marster-de Spirit has-tole'-me so. "

"Confess what?" inquired the rabbi softly, supposing that the oldman's utterances were but the ravings of delirium. 

"A secret-marster; a secret-dat-I have-kep'-so long-it has become-asin-an awful sin-dat has burnt-me in here, " placing his feeble handon his heart, "like coals-of-fire. Listen to me. "

"I knows-how-Mars'-Mark-Abrams got-killed, an'-has-known it-eversince-dat-dark-Jinnewary-night-w'en he-was-shot--"

"Merciful--"

"Hush! listen-to-me-my-bref-werry-short, " he said, motioning therabbi to silence, who had turned pale with consternation at the meremention of his son's name. 

"Hush! Mars'-Mark-was not-murdered-as-everybody-thought-but-was-killed-by-de pistol-he-carried-in his-pocket. It-was-werry darkdat-night-as you-may-remember. He-was-passin'-tru'-de-CitadelSquare-to cut-off de walk-comin'-from Crispin's-he said, an'-in-dedark-he-stumble-an' fall-an' de-pistol-go-off-an' kill him. Inde-early-morning-jus'-'for-day-as-I was-hurryin'-aroun'wid-my-paper, I was-carryin' de Curyer den-bless-de-Lord, Icame-upon-him-an' 'fore God-he was-mos' dead. He call-me-and tellme-how he-was-hurt, an' beg-me to run-for his-father, for-you, Marster-Abrams. He ask-me-to pick up-de-pistol-an' runfor-you-quick. W'en I foun'-de pistol-I ask-him-another question. He-said-nothin'. I knew-he-was-dead. I was-skeered-awful-skeered-an'-somethin'-tole me-to-run-away. I did run-as-fastas-I-could-an' w'en-I was-many-squars-off, I foun' de-pistol-inmy-hand. Dat-skeered me-agin. I stop-a minit-to think. I-was-awfulskeered-marster-an' den I 'cluded I jus' keep-de secret, an'de-pistol-too-for-fear-people-might-'cuse-me ob de-murder. An'-so Ihas-kept both-till now. See-here's de pistol-an' I'se-told you-dertruth;" and the old man felt about under his pillow for the weapon. 

With difficulty he drew it out, and handing it to the rabbi, said:

"Take it-it's-haunted-me long-enough. It's jes' as Ifound-it-dat-night-only-it's-mighty rusty. I'se had-it-buried-along time-for-safe-keepin'. 

W'en-Mars'-Emile-Le Grande-was-here in-prison-'cused of-dis-crime, -Ioften-wanted to tell-my-secret den-but-was-still-afeerd. I-knewhe-was-not guilty-an' I determined-he should-not be-punished. So Ihelped-him-to 'scape-jail. I-set-him-free. I take-him-in de nighttime-to one-of de-blockade-wessels-off de Bar. W'ere-he go fromdere, God knows-Ole Peter-don't. Now, Marster Abrams, I'se done. Before-God-dis is-de truf. I'se told-it-at-las'. Tole all-an' now-Idie-happy. 

"A-little-more-water-Marster Abrams-if you-please, an' denOle-Peter-will-soon-be-at-rest. "

Silently granting this last request, the rabbi turned suddenly toobserve the entrance of the guide, who by this time returned. 

Not a word was spoken a he entered. 

By the side of the table, where lay the pistol, the rabbi and Mr. Mordecai both sat down, each in turn eyeing the deadly weapon withunuttered horror. 

The dying negro's confession had filled them both with sorrow andamazement. The earnestness of his labored story impressed them atonce with its undeniable truth; and with hearts distressed andagitated, they sat in silence by the bed-side, till a strugglearrested their attention. Looking up once more they both caught thevoiceless gaze of the earnest eye, which seemed unmistakably to say, "I have told the truth. Believe my story. Farewell. " Then the oldcarrier's earthly struggles were forever ended. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

THE strange, almost incredible, and yet evidently truthfulconfession of old Peter, fell upon the heart of Mr. Mordecai with aweight that broke its stubbornness, and at once softened his wrathtoward his unhappy and unfortunate daughter. 

The thought that she was alone in the world, alone since themysterious disappearance of her husband from his Cuban home-aloneand undoubtedly struggling with life for existence, grew upon himwith maddening intensity. His heart became tender, and he resolvedto seek her face, and once again assure her of his love. Immediatelycarrying out this good resolve, he sought her, first in Cuba, butdid not find her; and to his bitter disappointment, all hissubsequent efforts proved unavailing. Months passed, and grievingfrom day to day over the unfilled hope of meeting her and atoningfor his severity by a manifold manifestation of tenderness, Mr. Mordecai lived on in sorrow as the months slowly passed by. 

He little dreamt that, not many leagues from his door, his lovelydaughter was performing, in weakness, in sorrow, evenbroken-hearted, the wearisome task that gave daily bread to herselfand child. 

And yet Leah had often seen her father, so changed by sorrow sinceshe last embraced him; seen him only to creep away into deeperobscurity, dreading to confront his anger, and determined not tomeet his coldness. And so changed indeed was she, that not a singlesoul among the scores she often passed, and who were once friends, had ever suspected her identity. Such were the workings of sorrowand misfortune. 

In quiet Bellevue street in the Queen City, still stood the onlymonument erected there during the war, that was worthy ofperpetuation. It was the Bellevue Street Home for the Friendless. During the war, this institution was known as the Bellevue StreetHospital, and there many brave soldiers perished, and many recoveredfrom ghastly wounds under the kindly care and attention of itsefficient managers. 

After the first shock of her grief was passed, Eliza HeartwellMarshall had been called to the position of matron in thisinstitution of mercy. 

It should be mentioned that, by the death of a maternal uncle duringher married life, this noble woman had inherited a handsome estate, consisting largely of valuable lands upon some of the fertileislands adjacent to the coast. 

Much of this land the government had appropriated to its own uses, during the war; but upon the restoration of peace, by dint ofskilful negotiation the rightful owner had regained possession ofthe confiscated property. 

Thus Mrs. Marshall was enabled to carry on her noble work ofcharity, after the carnage had ceased and the hospital was no longerneeded for the soldiers. So, endowing the Bellevue Hospital from herown private funds, she transformed it at once into a Home forreceiving those who, by reason of misfortune, were unable to helpthemselves. 

Here, during the two years of peace that had smiled upon thedesolate waste left by the war, she had toiled, prayed, and weptover the sufferings of humanity, till she was deemed, and rightlyso, an angel of mercy. 

Time passed on. Though the Queen City had not regained its formerprosperity the Home prospered. Its charitable walls were full, crowded even to their utmost capacity; its business pressing, itsnecessities great. 

"Miss Lizzie, " said Maum Isbel one day, as the vigilant matron wasperforming her accustomed round of duty, "Mrs. Moses, de lady who dode small washin', have sent word that she is sick an' can't do itdis week. De chile who came said she were wery sick, an' would liketo see you. "

"Do you know where she lives, Maum Isbel?"

"No. 15 Market street, ma'am, de chile said; please remember. "

"Get me another woman, Maum Isbel, to fill her place; the workcannot stop. I will go at once to see her. Poor creature! She haslooked pale and delicate ever since she sought work at the Home. "

Without delay, Mrs. Marshall hurried out on her mission of charity, and tarried not until she stood confronting a low, miserable lookingtenement house on Market street. Her knock at the designated doorwas answered by an untidy, rough-looking woman, who came into thenarrow dingy entry, and after eyeing the matron sharply, saidcoarsely:

"What do you want?"

"Does Mrs. Moses live here?"

"Yes; but she's very poorly to-day; ain't been up at all. Indeedshe's been poorly for a week or more. "

"Can I see her?"

"Yes, come in; she's in thar, " pointing to a small room cut off fromthe end of the narrow hall-way. 

Mrs. Marshall approached the small room, and answered the summons ofa feeble voice that said, "Come in. "

On entering the room, she found the woman prostrated on a low, comfortless bed; pale, feeble, and exhausted. By the bed-side, on achair, were a phial and a Hebrew prayer-book. 

"I am so glad you have come, " said the sick woman, "I am so weakthis morning. You see I coughed all night. I felt that I must seeyou. I hope it gave you no trouble to come. "

"None whatever. Why have you not sent for me before?"

"I hoped, from day to day, to be strong enough to do the washing forthe Home again. But instead of growing better, I have grown worsedaily. Heaven only knows what I'll do when I cannot work. "

"Where is your little daughter?"

"Gone to the baker's, to get me a warm bun. She fancied I could eatone, dear child!"

Touched by these surroundings of poverty and distress, Mrs. Marshallcould scarcely repress her tears; but said:

"If you will allow me, I'll give you some brandy; that will reviveyou. "

"Indeed, I have none; I used the last drop yesterday. "

"Then I beg that you will allow me to remove you to the Home tillyou are recovered. There, under Dr. Gibbs's kind care, you mayconvalesce rapidly. Here, you are suffering for every comfort, andcannot hope to recover soon. I beg you to go. "

For a moment, the sick woman made no reply, but her lips trembledwith emotion, and at length she said sadly:

"I fear I shall never be well again. "

"Oh, yes; be cheerful. I promise that you shall want for nothing atthe Home. "

"Can my child go with me there?"

"Yes, you will need her there, as you do here. "

"But I have no money. "

"There is none needed. Just promise to go, and I'll see that you areremoved at once. "

Reluctantly and tearfully Mrs. Moses at last yielded to the matron'sentreaties, repeatedly assuring her that she would endeavor to payher, when she should regain her health and strength. 

Mrs. Marshall remained a while, awaiting the return of the littlechild. At length she came bounding in with a bright, happy face, holding aloft the coveted bun, and exclaiming wildly, "See, mamma!here it is, nice and warm. Eat it, mamma!"

The matron then departed, promising to make immediate preparationsfor the mother's speedy removal. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

IT was only two months after the kind matron of the Bellevue Homehad the invalid Mrs. Moses removed to its hospitable walls, beforeshe saw, with regret, that the life she sought to save was fastpassing away. The delicate frame was rapidly yielding to thedevastation of consumption. All the skill and attention of kind Dr. Gibbs had proved unavailing. It was too evident that she must soondie. 

On the afternoon of a soft June day, succeeding a terrible nightwith the invalid, Mrs. Marshall had withdrawn for a moment's restfrom the fatigue of watching and nursing. Her slumber was soonbroken, however, by Maum Isbel, who, unceremoniously thrusting herhead into her chamber, said in an excited tone:

"Miss Lizzie! Miss Lizzie! Mis' Moses says she would like to see youat once. She seem werry bad to me, ma'am, werry bad indeed; she's soweak!"

"Hasn't the doctor come yet, maum Isbel? I have been expecting himthis hour, " replied Mrs. Marshall, arising and preparing to go atonce to her patient. 

"Not yet, ma'am. "

"If he comes, send him in at once; but I feel sure he can do thepoor woman no good now. Her life is nearly done. " Maum Isbel sighed, and dropped a tear at these ominous words; and then she shambledalong into ward number two, to inspect the washing that Mark AntonyBriggs, a colored man of her acquaintance, was doing there. Thereshe grew garrulous over the demerits of the work, and soon forgother emotion and her sympathy for the invalid. In the meantime, Mrs. Marshall hastened to the sick-room, and softly entered. 

By the bedside sat the pale-faced little child, holding her mother'shand, and bestowing upon it kiss after kiss of fervent love. 

"Mamma, here is good Mrs. Marshall come in again. Mamma! mamma! wakeup, " said the little girl as Mrs. Marshall entered. 

Startled by the sound, the sick woman roused from her uneasyslumber, and turned her heavenly dark eyes, so lustrous and bright, full upon the face of the matron. Her eyes for an instant flashed, then filled with tears, and dropped again. There was a strange, mysterious expression in that one gaze, that thrilled the heart ofEliza, and filled it with sorrow. "What can I do for you now, dearMrs. Moses?" she said with feeling. "The doctor will be here soon. "

Lifting her emaciated arms, her body shaking convulsively, theinvalid said, in a tone shrill with emotion, "Come here! Come nearto me, Lizzie Heartwell! Come to these dying arms of mine! I canhold out no longer!" Confounded at these singular words, and themore singular demonstration of an undemonstrative woman, Mrs. Marshall shrank back, and the invalid continued, "Come to me;nearer! nearer! I can hold out no longer. God knows how hard I'vestruggled! Lizzie Heartwell, don't you know me? Have you neversuspected your long-lost Leah? Have my disgrace and degradationwiped out my identity? In Heaven's name, is there not one trace ofresemblance left to the friend who loved you so much in our happyschool days? O Lizzie Heartwell, I am indeed your long-lost Leah!Your unfortunate, heart-broken Leah! Your forsaken, despised Leah!Your dying, dying Leah Mordecai! Is there no trace left, not one?Here, see this-this hated scar. Do you know me now, dear Lizzie?"

Lizzie, who, terrified at these startling words, had stood like astatue, sprang forward when the pale hand pushed back the hair andrevealed the scar, exclaiming:

"Is it you, my long-loved Leah, my own Leah Mordecai? In pity'sname, why this disguise? Why this cruel deception upon me, upon yourfaithful Lizzie, whose heart, like your own, has been wounded andbleeding so long? Tell me, dearest, tell me while you can; tellLizzie Heartwell again of your sorrows. "

"Am I not dying, Lizzie?" inquired Leah with a shudder, "I fear Icannot tell you all. My time is so short. But I could not diewithout one uttered word of thankfulness, without one kiss ofrecognition and love! This, Lizzie dear, is the end of my unhappylife; this the end of the wrong-doing of others; this the end ofdisobedience-the bitter, bitter end. It's been a hard, hardstruggle, Lizzie, between pride and love, for me to throw off mydisguise; but love has at length triumphed, love for this sweetchild, " she said, laying her hand tenderly upon her littledaughter's head. "I could not die, and leave her entirely tostrangers. When I have told you all I can of my story, then I shallhope for mercy from you for this child. It has seemed so dark andfearful to me, this untried, unknown life into which I must so soonenter! God knows how I tremble in His presence. "

"Have you tried to pray, dear Leah?"

"Yes, dear; but still all was dark, dark, dark-is dark yet. "

"Be calm, dear, and let me listen to the story of your life. Tell mewhat steps have led you at last to this strange end. Be calm, andtell me slowly. I would know it all. "

"Be patient then, and listen. I'll keep nothing back. If God givesme strength to tell it, I'll tell you all. " Then faintly she beganher sad narrative, and unreservedly unfolded the story of her life, from the unfortunate day of her marriage, on through each succeedingyear of sorrow, till she came at last, tremulously, to its sadclose. Calmly she told how her father had discarded her; of theremoval of her husband's father to France, where his family stillremained; of Emile's misfortune, persecution, and forced desertion, of his innocence; of her hopeless longing to see him; of her despairas the conviction settled upon her that she could not hope to hearfrom him again; of the harrowing suspense that had slowly eaten outher life; of her penury and want--"and now, thank God, " she said, "you will see the end. "

Lizzie wept at the story, and when it was ended, she said lovingly, "Leah, dear, let me send for your father? I know he would come. "

"Alas! the chillness of death is upon me, and the thought of dyingwithout his forgiveness is terrible! Would not his blessing dispelthis awful gloom, dear Lizzie? Ah! a soul in the presence of its Godis a helpless, pitiable thing!"

"Our Father is a God of love and mercy, Leah; trust His goodness. "

"I prayed last night from my prayer-book, but still all was dark. Won't you pray, dear Lizzie? Pray for my father to come, withforgiveness, and that his blessing may banish this gloom-thismysterious gloom. Pray for me, Lizzie, pray for me now; and then youmay send for him. But stop! My child! Lizzie, my child! What willbecome of her? Will you not take her? Will you not keep her? Willyou not love her for my sake? I could not give her to another. Tellme, dear. It's growing-oh! so chilly!"

Eliza softly murmured, "Before Heaven, Leah, I solemnly promise todeal with your child as I would have others deal with mine. Giveyourself no further sorrow for her, Leah. "

"Thank God! and now, you may pray for me; pray that the gloom may bedispelled, and this death-chamber brightened by my father'sforgiveness. Here, clasp my hands. Kneel close to me. I would catchevery word. A shadow seems to hang upon everything! Now. "

Thrilled with emotion, Eliza sank upon her knees, and with one armembracing the sobbing child, the other hand clasping the dyingwoman's, she prayed:

"Eternal God, our Heavenly Father, in weakness, in darkness, and yetin confidence, we appeal unto Thee for succor. In life, as in death, we are dependent upon Thy mercy and love, and yet, ever unmindful ofThy goodness, we must constantly implore Thy forgiveness. 

"Grant now, dear Father-now, in this dark hour of dissolvingnature-a clear and sustaining view of Thy goodness and mercy. 

"Draw very near, compassionate God, with assurances of Thy full andfree pardon. Dispel with Thy brightness the darkness of death thatnow enshrouds a helpless soul; and take it, in Thy boundless love, into everlasting rest. Manifest Thy forgiveness, O God, for thedeeds done in the body, and sanctify this soul for the habitation ofThy Saints. As earth has been dark and sorrowful, may heaven bebright and blessed; and may faith be given now, in this hour ofawful extremity-faith to dispel the gloom that now veils Thygoodness, mercy, and power. 

"Give light, light, O God, for darkness and terror, and peace andjoy for apprehension and mourning. Eternal, ever-blessed, unchangeable God, send now Thy Spirit and manifest Thy forgiveness. O Father, let Thy sacrifice avail! Pity, too, the helpless orphan, compassionate Father, and like a mantle wrap Thy love about it. Guide its footsteps with wisdom, direct its way with love, and mayit live to Thy honor and glory. Hear us in our weakness, helplessness, and sinfulness, and to Thy eternal Being beeverlasting honor and glory. Amen. "

Releasing the little child, and unclasping the dying hand, Elizarose and said:

"Now, Leah, I'll send for your father. "

"Well. Be quick!" and as a seraphic smile overspread her face, sheadded, "Leave me alone till he comes, Lizzie, but be quick. I wouldsee him now, now; all is light, light, light! Joy, love, peace-atlast. "

An hour later, Mr. Mordecai-in answer to a message saying that hisdaughter was dying at the Bellevue Home, and wished to see him-cametottering into the hall-way, his face expressive of the deepestsorrow; his head had grown venerable and gray, his form was bentbeneath a weight of grief that might have crushed a heart of stone. Not a word was spoken, as he silently took the hand of Mrs. Marshall, who met him at the threshold, and led the way to Leah'schamber. The expression of his face told the anguish of his heart. Noiselessly entering the room, they found that the little child hadfallen asleep on the foot of its mother's bed, exhausted withweeping. The coverlet was drawn carelessly over Leah's face, concealing her features. Softly approaching her, Lizzie tremblinglyturned the coverlet back. Alas! she was dead. 

On the bosom of the dead, as she was being prepared for burial, wasfound the miniature of her mother, the birth-day gift of years ago. The jewels were gone. One by one they had been removed from theirplaces, to answer the imperative demands of hunger and want. But theface, the beloved face of the mother, had ever been pressed to theheart of the unhappy daughter. And now, it was not to be removed, even by death itself; for the agonized father, beholding theevidence of Leah's devotion, said, "As she kept it in life, so shallshe keep it in death. Place it again on her bosom. Thank God, Ishall soon sleep beside her in the quiet burying-ground of mypeople; and may the eternal God forgive my sin toward her. "

THE END.