'LENA RIVERS, BY

MRS. MARY J. HOLMES. 

AUTHOR OF

"TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE, " "ENGLISH ORPHANS, " "DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT, ""MARIAN GRAY, " "ETHELYN'S MISTAKE, " "CAMERON PRIDE, " "EDNA BROWNING, ""WEST LAWN, " "EDITH LYLE, " ETC. , ETC. 

MDCCCXCVII. 

PREFACE. 

If it be true, as some have said, that a _secret_ is safer in a_preface_ than elsewhere, it would be worse than folly for me towaste the "midnight oil, " in the manufacture of an article which noone would read, and which would serve no purpose, save the adding ofa page or so to a volume perhaps already too large. But I do notthink so. I wot of a few who, with a horror of anything savoring of_humbug_, wade industriously through a preface, be it never solengthy, hoping therein to find the _moral_, without which the storywould, of course, be valueless. To such I would say, seek nofurther, for though I claim for "'Lena Rivers, " a moral--yes, half adozen morals, if you please--I shall not put them in the preface, asI prefer having them sought after, for what I have written I wish tohave read. 

Reared among the rugged hills of the Bay State, and for a timeconstantly associated with a class of people known the wide worldover as _Yankees_, it is no more than natural that I should oftenwrite of the places and scenes with which I have been the mostfamiliar. In my delineations of New England character I have aimedto copy from memory, and in no one instance, I believe, have Ioverdrawn the pictures; for among the New England mountains therelives many a "Grandma Nichols, " a "Joel Slocum, " or a "NancyScovandyke, " while the wide world holds more than one '_Lena_, withher high temper, extreme beauty, and rare combination of thosequalities which make the female character so lovely. 

Nearly the same remarks will also apply to my portraitures ofKentucky life and character, for it has been my good fortune to spenda year and a half in that state, and in my descriptions of countrylanes and country life, I have with a few exceptions copied from whatI saw. _Mrs. Livingstone_ and _Mrs. Graham_ are characters foundeverywhere, while the impulsive _John Jr_. , and the generous-hearted_Durward_, represent a class of individuals who belong moreexclusively to the "sunny south. "

I have endeavored to make this book both a good and an interestingone, and if I have failed in my attempt, it is too late to remedy itnow; and, such as it is, I give it to the world, trusting that thesame favor and forbearance which have been awarded to my other works, will also be extended to this. 

M. J. H. 

BROCKPORT, N. Y. , _October_, 1856. 

LENA RIVERS. 

CHAPTER I. 

'LENA. 

For many days the storm continued. Highways were blocked up, whileroads less frequented were rendered wholly impassable. The oldestinhabitants of Oakland had "never seen the like before, " and theyshook their gray heads ominously as over and adown the New Englandmountains the howling wind swept furiously, now shrieking exultinglyas one by one the huge forest trees bent before its power, and againdying away in a low, sad wail, as it shook the casement of somelow-roofed cottage, where the blazing fire, "high piled upon thehearth, " danced merrily to the sound of the storm-wind, and then, whirling in fantastic circles, disappeared up the broad-mouthedchimney. 

For nearly a week there was scarcely a sign of life in the streets ofOakland, but at the end of that time the storm abated, and theDecember sun, emerging from its dark hiding-place, once more lookedsmilingly down upon the white, untrodden snow, which covered theearth for miles and miles around. Rapidly the roads were broken;paths were made on the narrow sidewalk, and then the villagersbethought themselves of their mountain neighbors, who might perchancehave suffered from the severity of the storm. Far up the mountainside in an old yellow farmhouse, which had withstood the blasts ofmany a winter, lived Grandfather and Grandmother Nichols, as theywere familiarly called, and ere the sun-setting, arrangements weremade for paying them a visit. 

Oakland was a small rural village, nestled among rocky hills, wherethe word fashion was seldom heard, and where many of the primitivecustoms of our forefathers still prevailed. Consequently, neitherthe buxom maidens, nor the hale old matrons, felt in the leastdisgraced as they piled promiscuously upon the four-ox sled, whicherelong was moving slowly through the mammoth drifts which lay uponthe mountain road. As they drew near the farmhouse, they noticedthat the blue paper curtains which shaded the windows of GrandmaNichols' "spare room, " were rolled up, while the faint glimmer of atallow candle within, indicated that the room possessed an occupant. Who could it be? Possibly it was _John_, the proud man, who lived inKentucky, and who, to please his wealthy bride exchanged the plebeianname of Nichols, for that of _Livingstone_, which his high-born ladyfancied was more aristocratic in its sounding!

"And if it be John, " said the passengers of the ox sled, with whomthat gentleman was no great favorite, "if it be John, we'll takeourselves home as fast as ever we can. "

Satisfied with this resolution, they kept on their way until theyreached the wide gateway, where they were met by Mr. Nichols, whosegreeting they fancied was less cordial than usual. With a simple"how d'ye do, " he led the way into the spacious kitchen, whichanswered the treble purpose of dining-room, sitting-room, andcook-room. Grandma Nichols, too, appeared somewhat disturbed, butshe met her visitors with an air which seemed to say, she wasdetermined to make the best of her trouble, whatever it might be. 

The door of the "spare room" was slightly ajar, and while thevisitors were disrobing, one young girl, more curious than the rest, peered cautiously in, exclaiming as she did so, "Mother! mother!Helena is in there on the bed, pale as a ghost. "

"Yes, Heleny is in there, " interrupted Grandma Nichols, who overheardthe girl's remark. "She got hum the fust night of the storm, andwhat's queerer than all, she's been married better than a year. "

"Married! Married! Helena married! Who to? Where's her husband?"asked a dozen voices in the same breath. 

Grandfather Nichols groaned as if in pain, and his wife, glancinganxiously toward the door of her daughter's room, said in reply tothe last question, "That's the worst on't. He was some grand rascal, who lived at the suthard, and come up here to see what he could do. He thought Heleny was handsome, I s'pose, and married her, making herkeep it still because his folks in Car'lina wouldn't like it. Ofcourse he got sick of her, and jest afore the baby was born he ginher five hundred dollars and left her. "

A murmur of surprise ran round the room, accompanied with a look ofincredulity, which Grandma Nichols quickly divined, and while herwithered cheek crimsoned at the implied disgrace, she added in anelevated tone of voice, "It's true as the Bible. Old FatherBlanchard's son, that used to preach here, married them, and Helenybrought us a letter from him, saying it was true. Here 'tis, --readit yourselves, if you don't b'lieve me;" and she drew from a sidedrawer a letter, on the back of which, the villagers recognized thewell remembered handwriting of their former pastor. 

This proof of Helena's innocence was hardly relished by the clevergossips of Oakland, for the young girl, though kind-hearted andgentle, was far too beautiful to be a general favorite. Mothers sawin her a rival for their daughters, while the daughters lookedenviously upon her clear white brow, and shining chestnut hair; whichfell in wavy curls about her neck and shoulders. Two years beforeour story opens, she had left her mountain home to try the mysteriesof millinery in the city, where a distant relative of her mother wasliving. Here her uncommon beauty attracted much attention, drawingerelong to her side a wealthy young southerner, who, just freed fromthe restraints of college life, found it vastly agreeable making loveto the fair Helena. Simple-minded, and wholly unused to the ways ofthe world, she believed each word he said, and when at last heproposed marriage, she not only consented, but also promised to keepit a secret for a time, until he could in a measure reconcile hisfather, who he feared might disinherit him for wedding a pennilessbride. 

"Wait, darling, until he knows you, " said he, "and then he willgladly welcome you as his daughter. "

Accordingly, one dark, wintry night, when neither moon nor stars werevisible, Helena stole softly from her quiet room at Mrs. Warren's, and in less than an hour was the lawful bride of Harry Rivers, thewife of the clergyman alone witnessing the ceremony. 

"I wish I could take you home at once, " said young Rivers, who wasless a rascal than a coward; "I wish I could take you home at once, but it cannot be. We must wait awhile. "

So Helena went back to Mrs. Warren's, where for a few weeks shestayed, and then saying she was going home, she left and became themistress of a neat little cottage which stood a mile or two from thecity. Here for several months young Rivers devoted himself entirelyto her happiness, seeming to forget that there was aught else in theworld save his "beautiful 'Lena, " as he was wont to call her. But atlast there came a change. Harry seemed sad, and absent-minded, though ever kind to Helena, who strove in vain to learn the cause ofhis uneasiness. 

One morning when, later than usual, she awoke, she missed him fromher side; and on the table near her lay a letter containing thefollowing:--

"Forgive me, darling, that I leave you so abruptly. Circumstancesrender it neccessary, but be assured, I shall come back again. Inthe mean time, you had better return to your parents, where I willseek you. Enclosed are five hundred dollars, enough for your presentneed. Farewell. 

 "H. RIVERS. "

There was one bitter cry of hopeless anguish, and when Helena Riversagain awoke to perfect consciousness, she lay in a darkened room, soft footsteps passed in and out, kind faces, in which were mingledpity and reproach, bent anxiously over her, while at her side lay alittle tender thing, her infant daughter, three weeks old. And nowthere arose within her a strong desire to see once more herchildhood's home, to lay her aching head upon her mother's lap, andpour out the tale of grief which was crushing the life from out heryoung heart. 

As soon, therefore, as her health would permit, she started forOakland, taking the precaution to procure from the clergyman, who hadmarried her, a letter confirming the fact. Wretched and weary shereached her home at the dusk of evening, and with a bitter cry fellfainting in the arms of her mother, who having heard regularly fromher, never dreamed that she was elsewhere than in the employ of Mrs. Warren. With streaming eyes and trembling hands the old man and hiswife made ready the spare room for the wanderer more than onceblessing the fearful storm which for a time, at least, would keepaway the prying eyes of those who, they feared, would hardly credittheir daughter's story. 

And their fears were right, for many of those who visited them on thenight of which we have spoken, disbelieved the tale, mentallypronouncing the clergyman's letter a forgery, got up by Helena todeceive her parents. Consequently, of the few who from time to timecame to the old farmhouse, nearly all were actuated by motives ofcuriosity, rather than by feelings of pity for the young girl-mother, who, though feeling their neglect, scarcely heeded it. Strong in theknowledge of her own innocence, she lay day after day, watching andwaiting for one who never came. But at last, as days glided intoweeks, and weeks into months, hope died away, and turning wearilyupon her pillow, she prayed that she might die; and when the daysgrew bright and gladsome in the warm spring sun, when the snow wasmelted from off the mountain tops, and the first robin's note washeard by the farmhouse door, Helena laid her baby on her mother'sbosom, and without a murmur glided down the dark, broad river, whosedeep waters move onward and onward, but never return. 

When it was known in Oakland that Helena was dead, there came areaction, and those who had been loudest in their condemnation, werenow the first to hasten forward with offers of kindness and words ofsympathy. But neither tears nor regrets could recall to life thefair young girl, who, wondrously beautiful even in death, sleptcalmly in her narrow coffin, a smile of sadness wreathing her lips, as if her last prayer had been for one who had robbed her thus earlyof happiness and life. In the bright green valley at the foot of themountain, they buried her, and the old father, as he saw the dampearth fall upon her grave, asked that he too might die. But hiswife, younger by several years, prayed to live--live that she mightprotect and care for the little orphan, who first by its youngmother's tears, and again by the waters of the baptismal fountain, was christened HELENA RIVERS;--the '_Lena_ of our story. 

CHAPTER II. 

JOHN. 

Ten years of sunlight and shadow have passed away, and the littlegrave at the foot of the mountain is now grass-grown and sunken. Tentimes have the snows of winter fallen upon the hoary head ofGrandfather Nichols, bleaching his thin locks to their own whitenessand bending his sturdy frame, until now, the old man lay dying--dyingin the same blue-curtained room, where years agone his only daughterwas born, and where ten years before she had died. Carefully didMrs. Nichols nurse him, watching, weeping, and praying that he mightlive, while little 'Lena gladly shared her grandmother's vigils, hovering ever by the bedside of her grandfather, who seemed morequiet when her soft hand smoothed his tangled hair or wiped the coldmoisture from his brow. The villagers, too, remembering theirneglect, when once before death had brooded over the mountainfarmhouse, now daily came with offers of assistance. 

But one thing still was wanting. John, their only remaining child, was absent, and the sick man's heart grew sad and his eyes dim withtears, as day by day went by, and still he did not come. Severaltimes had 'Lena written to her uncle, apprising him of his father'sdanger, and once only had he answered. It was a brief, formalletter, written, evidently, under some constraint, but it said thathe was coming, and with childish joy the old man had placed itbeneath his pillow, withdrawing it occasionally for 'Lena to readagain, particularly the passage, "Dear father, I am sorry you aresick. "

"Heaven bless him! I know he's sorry, " Mr. Nichols would say. "Hewas always a good boy--is a good boy now. Ain't he, Martha?"

And mother-like, Mrs. Nichols would answer, "Yes, " forcing back thewhile the tears which would start when she thought how long the "goodboy" had neglected them, eighteen years having elapsed since he hadcrossed the threshold of his home. 

With his hand plighted to one of the village maidens, he had leftOakland to seek his fortune, going first to New York, then to Ohio, and finally wending his way southward, to Kentucky. Here heremained, readily falling into the luxurious habits of those aroundhim, and gradually forgetting the low-roofed farmhouse far away tothe northward, where dwelt a gray-haired pair and a beautiful younggirl, his parents and his sister. She to whom his vows were plightedwas neither graceful nor cultivated, and when, occasionally, hertall, spare figure and uncouth manners arose before him, in contrastwith the fair forms around him, he smiled derisively at the thoughtsof making her his wife. 

About this time there came from New Orleans a wealthy invalid, withhis only daughter Matilda. She was a proud haughty girl, whosedisposition, naturally unamiable, was rendered still worse by adisappointment from which she was suffering. Accidentally Mr. Richards, her father, made the acquaintance of John Nichols, conceiving for him a violent fancy, and finally securing him as aconstant companion. For several weeks John appeared utterlyoblivious to the presence of Matilda who, accustomed to adulation, began at last to feel piqued at his neglect, and to strive in manyways to attract his attention. 

John, who was ambitious, met her advances more than half way, andfinally, encouraged by her father, offered her his heart and hand. Under other circumstances, Matilda would undoubtedly have spurned himwith contempt; but having heard that her recreant lover was abouttaking to himself a bride, she felt a desire, as she expressed it, "to let him know she could marry too. " Accordingly, John wasaccepted, on condition that he changed the name of Nichols, whichMiss Richards particularly disliked, to that of Livingstone. Thiswas easily done, and the next letter which went to Oakland carriedthe news of John's marriage with the proud Matilda. 

A few months later and Mr. Richards died, leaving his entire propertyto his daughter and her husband. John was now richer far than evenin his wildest dreams he had ever hoped to be, and yet like manyothers, he found that riches alone could not insure happiness. And, indeed, to be happy with Matilda Richards, seemed impossible. Proud, avaricious, and overbearing, she continually taunted her husband withhis entire dependence upon her, carefully watching him, lest any ofher hoarded wealth should find its way to the scanty purse of hisparents, of whom she always spoke with contempt. 

Never but once had they asked for aid, and that to help them rear thelittle 'Lena. Influenced by his wife, John replied sneeringly, scouting the idea of Helena's marriage, denouncing her as his sister, and saying of her child, that the poor-house stood ready for such asshe! This letter 'Lena had accidentally found among hergrandfather's papers, and though its contents gave her no definiteimpression concerning her mother, it inspired her with a dislike forher uncle, whose coming she greatly dreaded, for it was confidentlyexpected that she, together with her grandmother, would return withhim to Kentucky. 

"You'll be better off there than here, " said her grandfather one day, when speaking of the subject. "Your Uncle John is rich, and you'llgrow up a fine lady. "

"I don't want to be a lady--I won't be a lady, " said 'Lenapassionately. "I don't like Uncle John. He called my mother a badwoman and me a little brat! I hate him!" and the beautiful browneyes glittering with tears flashed forth their anger quite aseloquently as language could express it. 

The next moment 'Lena was bending over her grandfather, asking to beforgiven for the hasty words which she knew had caused him pain. "I'll try to like him, " said she, as the palsied hand stroked herdisordered curls in token of forgiveness, "I'll try to like him, "adding mentally, "but I do hope he won't come. "

It would seem that 'Lena's wish was to be granted, for weeks glidedby and there came no tidings of the absent one. Daily Mr. Nicholsgrew weaker, and when there was no longer hope of life, his heartyearned more and more to once more behold his son; to hear again, erehe died, the blessed name of father. 

"'Lena, " said Mrs. Nichols one afternoon when her husband seemedworse, "'Lena, it's time for the stage, and do you run down to the'turn' and see if your uncle's come; something tells me he'll be hereto-night. "

'Lena obeyed, and throwing on her faded calico sunbonnet, she wassoon at the "turn, " a point in the road from which the village hotelwas plainly discernible. The stage had just arrived, and 'Lena sawthat one of the passengers evidently intended stopping, for he seemedto be giving directions concerning his baggage. 

"That's Uncle John, I most know, " thought she, and seating herself ona rock beneath some white birches, so common in New England, sheawaited his approach. She was right in her conjecture, for thestranger was John Livingstone, returned after many years, but sochanged that the jolly landlord, who had known him when a boy, andwith whom he had cracked many a joke, now hardly dared to addresshim, he seemed so cold and haughty. 

"I will leave my trunk here for a few days, " said John, "and perhapsI shall wish for a room. Got any decent accommodations?"

"Wonder if he don't calculate to sleep to hum, " thought the landlord, replying at the same instant, "Yes, sir, tip-top accommodations. Hain't more'n tew beds in any room, and nowadays we allers has awash-bowl and pitcher; don't go to the sink as we used to when youlived round here. "

With a gesture of impatience Mr. Livingstone left the house andstarted up the mountain road, where 'Lena still kept her watch. Oh, how that walk recalled to him the memories of other days, which camethronging about him as one by one familiar way-marks appeared, reminding him of his childhood, when he roamed over thatmountain-side with those who were now scattered far and wide, some onthe deep, blue sea, some at the distant west, and others far awayacross the dark river of death. He had mingled much with the worldsince last he had traversed that road, and his heart had growncallous and indifferent, but he was not entirely hardened, and whenat the "turn" in the road, he came suddenly upon the tall walnuttree, on whose shaggy bark his name was carved, together with that ofanother--a maiden--he started as if smitten with a heavy blow, anddashing a tear from his eye he exclaimed "Oh that I were a boy again!"

From her seat on the mossy rock 'Lena had been watching him. She wasvery ardent and impulsive, strong in her likes and dislikes, butquite ready to change the latter if she saw any indications ofimprovement in the person disliked. For her uncle she had conceiveda great aversion, and when she saw him approaching, thrusting asidethe thistles and dandelions with his gold-headed cane, she mimickedhis motions, wondering "if he didn't feel big because he wore a largegold chain dangling from his jacket pocket. "

But when she saw his emotions beneath the walnut tree, her opinionsuddenly changed. "A very bad man wouldn't cry, " she thought, andspringing to his side, she grasped his hand, exclaiming, "I know youare my Uncle John, and I'm real glad you've come. Granny thought younever would, and grandpa asks for you all the time. "

Had his buried sister arisen before him, Mr. Livingstone would hardlyhave been more startled, for in form and feature 'Lena was exactlywhat her mother had been at her age. The same clear complexion, large brown eyes, and wavy hair; and the tones of her voice, too, howthey thrilled the heart of the strong man, making him a boy again, guiding the steps of his baby sister, or bearing her gently in hisarms when the path was steep and stony. It was but a moment, however, and then the vision faded. His sister was dead, and thelittle girl before him was her child--the child of shame he believed, or rather, his wife had said it so often that he began to believe it. Glancing at the old-womanish garb in which Mrs. Nichols alwaysarrayed her, a smile of mingled scorn and pity curled his lips, as hethought of presenting her to his fastidious wife and elegantdaughters; then withdrawing the hand which she had taken, he said, "And you are 'Lena--'Lena Nichols they call you, I suppose. "

'Lena's old dislike began to return, and placing both hands upon herhips in imitation of her grandmother she replied, "No 'tain't 'LenaNichols, neither. It's 'Lena Rivers. Granny says so, and the townclark has got it so on his book. How are my cousins? Are theypretty well? And how is _Ant_?"

Mr. Livingstone winced, at the same time feeling amused at thislittle specimen of Yankeeism, in which he saw so much of his mother. Poor little 'Lena! how should she know any better, living as shealways had with two old people, whose language savored so much of thedays before the flood! Some such thought passed through Mr. Livingstone's mind, and very civilly he answered her concerning thehealth of her cousins and aunt; proceeding next to question her ofhis father, who, she said, "had never seen a well day since hermother died. "

"Is there any one with him except your grandmother?" asked Mr. Livingstone; and Lena replied, "Aunt Nancy Scovandyke has been withus a few days, and is there now. "

At the sound of that name John started, coloring so deeply that 'Lenaobserved it, and asked "if he knew Miss Scovandyke?"

"I used to, " said he, while 'Lena continued: "She's a nice woman, andthough she ain't any connection, I call her aunt. Granny thinks asight of her. "

Miss Scovandyke was evidently an unpleasant topic for Mr. Livingstone, and changing the subject, he said, "What makes you say_Granny_, child?"

'Lena blushed painfully. 'Twas the first word she had ever uttered, her grandmother having taught it to her, and encouraged her in itsuse. Besides that, 'Lena had a great horror of anything which shefancied was at all "stuck up, " and thinking an entire change from_Granny_ to _Grandmother_ would be altogether too much, she stillpersisted in occasionally using her favorite word, in spite of theridicule it frequently called forth from her school companions. Thinking to herself that it was none of her uncle's business what shecalled her grandmother, she made no reply, and in a few moments theycame in sight of the yellow farmhouse, which looked to Mr. Livingstone just as it did when he left it, eighteen years before. There was the tall poplar, with its green leaves rustling in thebreeze, just as they had done years ago, when from a distant hill-tophe looked back to catch the last glimpse of his home. The well inthe rear was the same--the lilac bushes in front--the tansy patch onthe right and the gable-roofed barn on the left; all were there;nothing was changed but himself. 

Mechanically he followed 'Lena into the yard, half expecting to seebleaching upon the grass the same web of home-made cloth, which heremembered had lain there when he went away. One thing alone seemedstrange. The blue paper curtains were rolled away from the "spareroom" windows, which were open as if to admit as much air as possible. 

"I shouldn't wonder if grandpa was worse, " said 'Lena, hurrying himalong and ushering him at once into the sick-room. 

At first Mrs. Nichols did not observe him, for she was bendingtenderly over the white, wrinkled face, which lay upon the small, scanty pillow. John thought "how small and scanty they were, " whilehe almost shuddered at the sound of his footsteps upon the uncarpetedfloor. Everything was dreary and comfortless, and his consciencereproached him that his old father should die so poor, when hecounted his money by thousands. 

As he passed the window his tall figure obscured the fading daylight, causing his mother to raise her head, and in a moment her long, bonyarms were twined around his neck. The cruel letter, his longneglect, were all forgotten in the joy of once more beholding her"darling boy, " whose bearded cheek she kissed again and again. Johnwas unused to such demonstrations of affection, except, indeed, fromhis little golden-haired Anna, who was _refined_ and _polished_, andall that, which made a vast difference, as he thought. Still, hereturned his mother's greeting with a tolerably good grace, managing, however, to tear himself from her as soon as possible. 

"How is my father?" he asked; and his mother replied, "He grew worseright away after 'Leny went out, and he seemed so put to't forbreath, that Nancy went for the doctor----"

Here a movement from the invalid arrested her attention and going tothe bedside she saw that he was awake. Bending over him shewhispered softly, "John has come. Would you like to see him?"

Quickly the feeble arms were outstretched, as if to feel what couldnot be seen, for the old man's eyesight was dim with the shadows ofdeath. 

Taking both his father's hands in his, John said, "Here I am, father;can't you see me?"

"No, John, no; I can't see you. " And the poor man wept like a littlechild. Soon growing more calm, he continued: "Your voice is the samethat it was years ago, when you lived with us at home. That hasn'tchanged, though they say your name has. Oh, John, my boy, how couldyou do so? 'Twas a good name--my name--and you the only one left tobear it. What made you do so, oh John, John?"

Mr. Livingstone did not reply, and after a moment his father againspoke; "John, lay your hand on my forehead. It's cold as ice. I amdying, and your mother will be left alone. We are poor, my son;poorer than you think. The homestead is mortgaged for all it's worthand there are only a few dollars in the purse. Oh, I worked so hardto earn them for her and the girl--Helena's child. Now, John, promise me that when I am gone they shall go with you to your home inthe west. Promise, and I shall die happy. "

This was a new idea to John, and for a time he hesitated. He glancedat his mother; she was ignorant and peculiar, but she was his motherstill. He looked at 'Lena, she was beautiful--he knew that, but shewas odd and old-fashioned. He thought of his haughty wife, hisheadstrong son and his imperious daughter. What would they say if hemade that promise, for if he made it he would keep it. 

A long time his father awaited his answer, and then he spoke again:"Won't you give your old mother a home?"

The voice was weaker than when it spoke before, and John knew thatlife was fast ebbing away, for the brow on which his hand was restingwas cold and damp with the moisture of death. He could no longerrefuse, and the promise was given. 

The next morning, the deep-toned bell of Oakland told that anothersoul was gone, and the villagers as they counted the three scorestrokes and ten knew that Grandfather Nichols was numbered with thedead. 

CHAPTER III. 

PACKING UP. 

The funeral was over, and in the quiet valley by the side of his onlydaughter, Grandfather Nichols was laid to rest. As far as possiblehis father's business was settled, and then John began to speak ofhis returning. More than once had he repented of the promise made tohis father, and as the time passed on he shrank more and more fromintroducing his "plebeian" mother to his "lady" wife, who, he knew, was meditating an open rebellion. 

Immediately after his father's death he had written to his wife, telling her all, and trying as far as he was able to smooth mattersover, so that his mother might at least have a decent reception. Ina violent passion, his wife had answered, that "she never wouldsubmit to it--never. When I married you, " said she, "I didn'tsuppose I was marrying the 'old woman, ' young one, and all; and asfor my having them to maintain, I will not, so _Mr. John Nichols_, you understand it. "

When Mrs. Livingstone was particularly angry, she called her husband_Mr. John Nichols_, and when Mr. John Nichols was particularly angry, he did as he pleased, so in this case he replied that "he shouldbring home as many 'old women' and 'young ones' as he liked, and shemight help herself if she could!"

This state of things was hardly favorable to the future happiness ofGrandma Nichols, who, wholly unsuspecting and deeming herself as goodas anybody, never dreamed that her presence would be unwelcome to herdaughter-in-law, whom she thought to assist in various ways, "takingperhaps the whole heft of the housework upon herself--though, " sheadded, "I mean to begin just as I can hold out. I've hearn of suchthings as son's wives shirkin' the whole on to their old mothers, andthe minit 'Tilda shows any signs of that, I shall back out, I tellyou. "

John, who overheard this remark, bit his lip with vexation, and thenburst into a laugh as he fancied the elegant Mrs. Livingstone'sdismay at hearing herself called '_Tilda_. Had John chosen, he couldhave given his mother a few useful hints with regard to her treatmentof his wife, but such an idea never entered his brain. He was a manof few words, and generally allowed himself to be controlled bycircumstances, thinking that the easiest way of getting through theworld. He was very proud, and keenly felt how mortifying it would beto present his mother to his fashionable acquaintances; but that wasin the future--many miles away--he wouldn't trouble himself about itnow; so he passed his time mostly in rambling through the woods andover the hills, while his mother, good soul, busied herself with thepreparations for her journey, inviting each and every one of herneighbors to "be sure and visit her if they ever came that way, " andurging some of them to come on purpose and "spend the winter. "

Among those who promised compliance with this last request, was MissNancy Scovandyke, whom we have once before mentioned, and who, as thereader will have inferred, was the first love of John Livingstone. On the night of his arrival, she had been sent in quest of thephysician, and when on her return she learned from 'Lena that he hadcome, she kept out of sight, thinking she would wait awhile beforeshe met him. "Not that she cared the snap of her finger for him, "the said, "only it was natural that she should hate to see him. "

But when the time did come, she met it bravely, shaking his hand andspeaking to him as if nothing had ever happened, and while he waswondering how he ever could have fancied _her_, she, too, wasmentally styling herself "a fool, " for having liked "such a _pussy_, overgrown thing!" Dearly did Miss Nancy love excitement, and duringthe days that Mrs. Nichols was packing up, she was busy helping herto stow away the "crockery, " which the old lady declared should go, particularly the "blue set, which she'd had ever since the day butone before John was born, and which she intended as a part of 'Leny'ssettin' out. Then, too, John's wife could use 'em when she had agood deal of company; 'twould save buyin' new, and every littlehelped!"

"I wonder, now, if 'Tilda takes snuff, " said Mrs. Nichols, one day, seating herself upon an empty drygoods box which stood in the middleof the floor, and helping herself to an enormous pinch of herfavorite Maccaboy; "I wonder if she takes snuff, 'cause if she does, we shall take a sight of comfort together. "

"I don't much b'lieve she does, " answered Miss Nancy, whose face wasvery red with trying to cram a pair of cracked bellows into thealready crowded top of John's leathern trunk, "I don't b'lieve shedoes, for somehow it seems to me she's a mighty nipped-up thing, notan atom like you nor me. "

"Like enough, " returned Mrs. Nichols, finishing her snuff, and wipingher fingers upon the corner of her checked apron; "but, Nancy, canyou tell me how in the world I'm ever going to carry this _mop_?It's bran new, never been used above a dozen times, and I can'tafford to give it away. "

At this point, John, who was sitting in the adjoining room, cameforward. Hitherto he had not interfered in the least in his mother'sarrangements, but had looked silently on while she packed awayarticle after article which she would never need, and whichundoubtedly would be consigned to the flames the moment her back wasturned. The _mop_ business, however, was too much for him, andbefore Miss Nancy had time to reply, he said, "For heaven's sake, mother, how many traps do you propose taking, and what do you imaginewe can do with a mop? Why, I dare say not one of my servants wouldknow how to use it, and it's a wonder if some of the little chapsdidn't take it for a horse before night. "

"A _nigger_ ride my mop! _my new mop_!" exclaimed Mrs. Nichols, rolling up her eyes in astonishment, while Miss Nancy, turning toJohn, said, "In the name of the people, how do you live without mops?I should s'pose you'd rot alive!"

"I am not much versed in the mysteries of housekeeping, " returnedJohn, with a smile; "but it's my impression that what little cleaningour floors get is done with a cloth. "

"Wall, if I won't give it up now, " said Miss Nancy. "As good anabolutionist as you used to be, make the poor colored folks wash thefloor with a rag, on their hands and knees! It can't be that youindulge a hope, if you'll do such things!"

John made Miss Nancy no answer, but turning to his mother, he said, "I'm in earnest, mother, about your carrying so many useless things. _We_ don't want them. Our house is full now, and besides that, Mrs. Livingstone is very particular about the style of her furniture, andI am afraid yours would hardly come up to her ideas of elegance. "

"That chist of drawers, " said Mrs. Nichols, pointing to anold-fashioned, high-topped bureau, "cost an ocean of money when 'twasnew, and if the brasses on it was rubbed up, 'Tilda couldn't tell 'emfrom gold, unless she's seen more on't than I have, which ain't muchlikely, bein' I'm double her age. "

"The chest does very well for you, I admit, " said John; "but we haveneither use nor room for it, so if you can't sell it, why, give itaway, or burn it, one or the other. "

Mrs. Nichols saw he was decided, and forthwith 'Lena was dispatchedto Widow Fisher's, to see if she would take it at half price. Thewidow had no fancy for second-hand articles, consequently Miss Nancywas told "to keep it, and maybe she'd sometime have a chance to sendit to Kentucky. It won't come amiss, I know, s'posin' they be wellon't. I b'lieve in lookin' out for a rainy day. I can teach 'Tildaeconomy yet, " whispered Mrs. Nichols, glancing toward the room whereJohn sat, whistling, whittling, and pondering in his own mind thebest way if reconciling his wife to what could not well be helped. 

'Lena, who was naturally quick-sighted, had partially divined thecause of her uncle's moodiness. The more she saw of him the bettershe liked him, and she began to think that she would willingly try tocure herself of the peculiarities which evidently annoyed him, if hewould only notice her a little, which he was not likely to do. Heseldom noticed any child, much less little 'Lena, who he fancied wasignorant as well as awkward; but he did not know her. 

One day when, as usual, he sat whittling and thinking, 'Lenaapproached him softly, and laying her hand upon his knee, said rathertimidly, "Uncle, I wish you'd tell me something about my cousins. "

"What about them, " he asked, somewhat gruffly, for it grated upon hisfeelings to hear his daughters called cousin by her. 

"I want to know how they look, and which one I shall like the best, "continued 'Lena. 

"You'll like Anna the best, " said her uncle, and 'Lena asked, "Why!What sort of a girl is she? Does she love to go to school and study?"

"None too well, I reckon, " returned her uncle, adding that "therewere not many little girls who did. "

"Why _I_ do, " said 'Lena, and her uncle, stopping for a moment hiswhittling, replied rather scornfully, "_You_! I should like to knowwhat you ever studied besides the spelling-book!"

'Lena reddened, for she knew that, whether deservedly or not, shebore the reputation of being an excellent scholar, for one of herage, and now she rather tartly answered, "I study geography, arithmetic, grammar, and----" history, she was going to add, but heruncle stopped her, saying, "That'll do, that'll do. You study allthese? Now I don't suppose you know what one of 'em is. "

"Yes, I do, " said 'Lena, with a good deal of spirit. "Olney'sgeography is a description of the earth; Colburn's arithmetic is thescience of numbers: Smith's grammar teaches us how to speakcorrectly. "

"Why don't you do it then, " asked her uncle. 

"Do what?" said 'Lena, and her uncle continued, "Why don't you makesome use of your boasted knowledge of grammar? Why, my Anna hasnever seen the inside of a grammar, as I know of, but she don't _talklike you do_. "

"Don't _what_, sir?" said 'Lena, "Don't _talk like you do_, " repeated her uncle, while 'Lena's eyesfairly danced with mischief as she asked, "if that were good grammar. "

Mr. Livingstone colored, thinking it just possible that he himselfmight sometimes be guilty of the same things for which he had soharshly chided 'Lena, of whom from this time he began to think morefavorably. It could hardly be said that he treated her with any moreattention, and still there was a difference which she felt, and whichmade her very happy. 

CHAPTER IV. 

ON THE ROAD. 

At last the packing-up process came to an end, everything too poor tosell, and too good to give away, had found a place--some here, somethere, and some in John's trunk, among his ruffled bosoms, collars, dickeys, and so forth. Miss Nancy, who stood by until the last, wasmade the receiver of sundry cracked teacups, noseless pitchers, andiron spoons, which could not be disposed of elsewhere. 

And now every box and trunk was ready. Farmer Truesdale's red wagonstood at the door, waiting to convey them to the depot, and nothingremained for Grandma Nichols, but to bid adieu to the old spot, endeared to her by so many associations. Again and again she wentfrom room to room, weeping always, and lingering longest in the onewhere her children were born, and where her husband and daughter haddied. In the corner stood the old low-post bedstead, the first shehad ever owned, and now how vividly she recalled the time long yearsbefore, when she, a happy maiden, ordered that bedstead, blushingdeeply at the sly allusion which the cabinet maker made to herapproaching marriage. _He_, too, was with her, strong and healthy. Now, he was gone from her side forever. _His_ couch was a narrowcoffin, and the old bedstead stood there, naked--empty. Seatingherself upon it, the poor old lady rocked to and fro, moaning in hergrief, and wishing that she were not going to Kentucky, or that itwere possible now to remain at her mountain home. Summoning all hercourage, she gave one glance at the familiar objects around her, atthe flowers she had planted, and then taking 'Lena's hand, went downto the gate, where her son waited. 

He saw she had been weeping, and though he could not appreciate thecause of her tears, in his heart he pitied her, and his voice andmanner were unusually kind as he helped her to the best seat in thewagon, and asked if she were comfortable. Then his eye fell upon herdress, and his pity changed to anger as he wondered if she was whollydevoid of taste. At the time of his father's death, he purchaseddecent mourning for both his mother and 'Lena; but these Mrs. Nicholspronounced "altogether too good for the nasty cars; nobody'd thinkany better of them for being rigged out in their best meetin' gowns. "

So the bombazine was packed away, and in its place she wore a darkblue and white spotted calico, which John could have sworn she hadtwenty years before, and which was not unlikely, as she never woreout a garment. She was an enemy to long skirts, hence hers came justto her ankles, and as her black stockings had been footed with white, there was visible a dark rim. Altogether she presented a rathergrotesque appearance, with her oblong work-bag, in which were hersnuff-box, brass spectacles and half a dozen "nutcakes, " which would"save John's buying dinner. "

Unlike her grandmother's, 'Lena's dress was a great deal too long, and as she never wore pantalets, she had the look of a premature oldwoman, instead of a child ten summers old, as she was. Still theuncommon beauty of her face, and the natural gracefulness of herform, atoned in a measure for the singularity of her appearance. 

In the doorway stood Miss Nancy, and by her side her nephew, JoelSlocum, a freckle-faced boy, who had frequently shown a preferencefor 'Lena, by going with her for her grandmother's cow, bringing herharvest apples, and letting her ride on his sled oftener than theother girls at school. Strange to say, his affection was notreturned, and now, notwithstanding he several times wiped both eyesand nose, on the end of which there was an enormous freck, 'Lena didnot relent at all, but with a simple "Good-bye, Jo, " she sprang intothe wagon, which moved rapidly away. 

It was about five miles from the farmhouse to the depot, and whenhalf that distance had been gone over, Mrs. Nichols suddenly seizedthe reins, ordering the driver to stop, and saying, "she must gostraight back, for on the shelf of the north room cupboard she hadleft a whole paper of tea, which she couldn't afford to lose!"

"_Drive on_, " said Johny rather angrily, at the same time telling hismother that he could buy her a ton of tea if she wanted it. 

"But that was already bought, and 'twould have saved so much, " saidshe, softly wiping away a tear, which was occasioned partly by herson's manner, and partly by the great loss she felt she sustained inleaving behind her favorite "old hyson. "

This _saving_ was a matter of which Grandma Nichols said so much, that John, who was himself slightly avaricious, began to regret thathe ever knew the definition of the word _save_. Lest our readers geta wrong impression of Mrs. Nichols, we must say that she possessedvery many sterling qualities, and her habits of extreme economyresulted more from the manner in which she had been compelled tolive, than from natural stinginess. For this John hardly madeallowance enough, and his mother's remarks, instead of restraininghim, only made him more lavish of his money than he would otherwisehave been. 

When Mrs. Nichols and 'Lena entered the cars, they of courseattracted universal attention, which annoyed John excessively. InOakland, where his mother was known and appreciated, he could bearit, but among strangers, and with those of his own caste, it wasdifferent, so motioning them into the first unoccupied seat, hesauntered on with an air which seemed to say, "they were nothing tohim, " and finding a vacant seat at the other end of the car, he tookpossession of it. Scarcely, however, had he entered intoconversation with a gentleman near him, when some one grasped hisarm, and looking up, he saw his mother, her box in one hand; and anenormous pinch of snuff in the other. 

"John, " said she, elevating her voice so as to drown the noise of thecars, "I never thought on't till this minit, but I'd just as liefride in the second-class cars as not, and it only costs half as much!"

Mr. Livingstone colored crimson, and bade her go back, saying that ifhe paid the fare she needn't feel troubled about the cost. Just asshe was turning to leave, the loud ring and whistle, as the trainneared a crossing, startled her, and in great alarm she asked if"somethin' hadn't bust!"

John made no answer, but the gentleman near him very politelyexplained to her the cause of the disturbance, after which, shereturned to her seat. When the conductor appeared, he fortunatelycame in at the door nearest John, who pointed out the two, for whomhe had tickets, and then turned again to converse with the gentleman, who, though a stranger, was from Louisville, Kentucky, and whoseacquaintance was easily made. The sight of the conductor awoke inMrs. Nichols's brain a new idea, and after peering out upon theplatform, she went rushing up to her son, telling him that: "thetrunks, box, feather bed, and all, were every one on 'em left!"

"No, they are not, " said John; "I saw them aboard myself. "

"Wall, then, they're lost off, for as sure as you're born, thereain't one on 'em in here; and there's as much as twenty weight of newfeathers, besides all the crockery! Holler to 'em to stop quick!"

The stranger, pitying Mr. Livingstone's chagrin, kindly explained toher that there was a baggage car on purpose for trunks and the like, and that her feather bed was undoubtedly safe. This quieted her, andmentally styling him "a proper nice man, " she again returned to herseat. 

"A rare specimen of the raw Yankee, " said the stranger to John, neverdreaming in what relation she stood to him. 

"Yes, " answered John, not thinking it at all necessary to make anyfurther explanations. 

By this time Mrs. Nichols had attracted the attention of all thepassengers, who watched her movements with great interest. Amongthese was a fine-looking youth, fifteen or sixteen years of age, whosat directly in front of 'Lena. He had a remarkably open, pleasingcountenance, while there was that in his eyes which showed him to bea lover of fun. Thinking he had now found it in a rich form, heturned partly round, and would undoubtedly have quizzed Mrs. Nicholsunmercifully, had not something in the appearance of 'Lena preventedhim. This was also her first ride in the cars, but she possessed atact of concealing the fact, and if she sometimes felt frightened, she looked in the faces of those around her, gathering from them thatthere was no danger. She knew that her grandmother was makingherself ridiculous, and her eyes filled with tears as she whispered, "Do sit still, granny; everybody is looking at you. "

The young lad noticed this, and while it quelled in him the spirit ofridicule, it awoke a strange interest in 'Lena, who he saw wasbeautiful, spite of her unseemly guise. She was a dear lover ofnature, and as the cars sped on through the wild mountain scenery, between Pittsfield and Albany, she stood at the open window, herhands closely locked together, her lips slightly parted, and her eyeswide with wonder at the country through which they were passing. Ather grandmother's suggestion she had removed her bonnet, and thebrown curls which clustered around her white forehead and neck weremoved up and down by the fresh breeze which was blowing. The youthwas a passionate admirer of beauty, come in what garb it might, andnow as he watched, he felt a strong desire to touch one of the glossyringlets which floated within his reach. There would be no harm init, he thought--"she was only a little girl, and he was _almost aman_--had tried to shave, and was going to enter college in thefall. " Still he felt some doubts as to the propriety of the act, andwas about making up his mind that he had better not, when the trainshot into the "tunnel, " and for an instant they were in totaldarkness. Quick as thought his hand sought the brown curls, but theywere gone, and when the cars again emerged into daylight, 'Lena'sarms were around her grandmother's neck, trying to hold her down, forthe old lady, sure of a _smash-up_ this time, had attempted to rise, screaming loudly for "_John_!"

The boy laughed aloud--he could not help it; but when 'Lena's eyesturned reprovingly upon him, he felt sorry; and anxious to makeamends, addressed himself very politely to Mrs. Nichols, explainingto her that it was a "tunnel" through which they had passed, andassuring her there was no danger whatever. Then turning to 'Lena, hesaid, "I reckon your grandmother is not much accustomed to traveling. "

"No, sir, " answered 'Lena, the rich blood dyeing her cheek at beingaddressed by a stranger. 

It was the first time any one had ever said "_sir_" to the boy, andnow feeling quite like patronizing the little girl, he continued: "Ibelieve old people generally are timid when they enter the cars forthe first time. "

Nothing from 'Lena except a slight straightening up of her body, anda smoothing down of her dress, but the ice was broken, and erelongshe and her companion were conversing as familiarly as if they hadknown each other for years. Still the boy was not inquisitive--hedid not ask her name, or where she was going, though he told her thathis home was in Louisville, and that at Albany he was to take theboat for New York, where his mother was stopping with some friends. He also told her that the gentleman near the door, with dark eyes andwhiskers, was his father. 

Glancing toward the person indicated, 'Lena saw that it was the samegentleman who, all the afternoon, had been talking with her uncle. He was noble looking, and she felt glad that he was the father of theboy--he was just such a man, she fancied, as ought to be hisfather--just such a man as she could wish her father to be--and then'Lena felt glad that the youth had asked her nothing concerning herparentage, for, though her grandmother had seldom mentioned herfather in her presence, there were others ready and willing to informher that he was a villain, who broke her mother's heart. 

When they reached Albany, the boy rose, and offering his hand to'Lena, said "I suppose I must bid you good-bye, but I'd like rightwell to go farther with you. "

At this moment the stranger gentleman came up, and on seeing how hisson was occupied, said smilingly, "So-ho! Durward, you always manageto make some lady acquaintance. "

"Yes, father, " returned the boy called Durward, "but not always onelike this. Isn't she pretty, " he added in a whisper. 

The stranger's eyes fell upon 'Lena's face, and for a moment, as ifby some strange fascination, seemed riveted there; but the crowdpressed him forward, and 'Lena only heard him reply to his son, "Yes, Durward, very pretty; but hurry, or we shall lose the boat. "

The next moment they were gone. Leaning from the window, 'Lena triedto catch another glimpse of him, but in vain. He was gone--she wouldnever see him again, she thought; and then she fell into a reverieconcerning his home, his mother, his sisters, if he had any, andfinally ended by wishing that she were his sister, and the daughterof his father. While she was thus pondering, her grandmother, also, was busy, and when 'Lena looked round for her she was gone. Steppingfrom the car, 'Lena espied her in the distance, standing by her uncleand anxiously watching for the appearance of her "great trunk, littletrunk, band-box, and bag. " Each of these articles was forthcoming, and in a few moments they were on the ferry-boat crossing the bluewaters of the Hudson, Mrs. Nichols declaring that "if she'd known itwasn't a bridge she was steppin' onto, she'd be bound they wouldn'thave got her on in one while. "

"Do sit down, " said 'Lena; "the other people don't seem to be afraid, and I'm sure we needn't. "

This Mrs. Nichols was more willing to do, as directly at her side wasanother old lady, traveling for the first time, frightened andanxious. To her Mrs. Nichols addressed herself, announcing her firmbelief that "she should be blew sky high before she reached Kentucky, where she was going to live with her son John, who she supposed waswell off, worth twenty negroes or more; but, " she added, lowering hervoice, "I don't b'lieve in no such, and I mean he shall set 'emfree--poor critters, duddin' from mornin' till night without a centof pay. He says they call him 'master, ' but I'll warrant he'll nevercatch me a'callin' him so to one on 'em. I promised Nancy Scovandykethat I wouldn't, and I won't!"

Here a little _popcorn_ boy came 'round, which reminded Mrs. Nicholsof her money, and that she hadn't once looked after it since shestarted. Thinking this as favorable a time as she would have, shedrew from her capacious pocket an old knit purse, and commencedcounting out its contents, piece by piece. 

"Beware of pickpockets!" said some one in her ear, and with theexclamation of "Oh the Lord!" the purse disappeared in her pocket, onwhich she kept her hand until the boat touched the opposite shore. Then in the confusion and excitement it was withdrawn, the purse wasforgotten, and when on board the night express for Buffalo it wasagain looked for, _it was gone_!

With a wild outcry the horror-stricken matron sprang up, calling forJohn, who in some alarm came to her side, asking what she wanted. 

"I've lost my purse. Somebody's stole it. Lock the door quick, andsearch every man, woman, and child in the car!"

The conductor, who chanced to be present, now came up, demanding anexplanation, and trying to convince Mrs. Nichols how improbable itwas that any one present had her money. 

"Stop the train then, and let me get off. "

"Had you a large amount?" asked the conductor. 

"Every cent I had in the world. Ain't you going to let me get off?"was the answer. 

The conductor looked inquiringly at John, who shook his head, at thesame time whispering to his mother not to feel so badly, as he wouldgive her all the money she wanted. Then placing a ten dollar bill inher hand, he took a seat behind her. We doubt whether this wouldhave quieted the old lady, had not a happy idea that moment enteredher mind, causing her to exclaim loudly, "There, now, I've just thisminute thought. I hadn't but _five_ dollars in my purse; t'otherfifty I sewed up in an old night-gown sleeve, and tucked it away inthat satchel up there, " pointing to 'Lena's traveling bag, which hungover her head. She would undoubtedly have designated the very cornerof said satchel in which her money could be found, had not her sontouched her shoulder, bidding her be silent and not tell everybodywhere her money was, if she didn't want it stolen. 

Mrs. Nichols made no reply, but when she thought she was notobserved, she arose, and slyly taking down the satchel, placed itunder her. Then seating herself upon it, she gave a sigh of reliefas she thought, "they'd have to work hard to get it now, without herknowing it!" Dear old soul, when arrived at her journey's end, howmuch comfort she took in recounting over and over again the incidentsof the robbery, wondering if it was, as John said, the very man whohad so kindly cautioned her to beware of pickpockets, and who thusascertained where she kept her purse. Nancy Scovandyke, too, wasduly informed of her loss, and charged when she came to Kentucky, "tolook out on the ferry-boat for a youngish, good-looking man, withbrown frock coat, blue cravat, and mouth full of white teeth. "

At Buffalo Mr. Livingstone had hard work to coax his mother on boardthe steamboat, but he finally succeeded, and as the weather chancedto be fine, she declared that ride on the lake to be the pleasantestpart of her journey. At Cleveland they took the cars for Cincinnati, going thence to Lexington by stage. On ordinary occasions Mr. Livingstone would have preferred the river, but knowing that in allprobability he should meet with some of his friends upon the boat, hechose the route via Lexington, where he stopped at the Phoenix, aswas his usual custom. 

After seeing his mother and niece into the public parlor he left themfor a time, saying he had some business to transact in the city. Scarcely was he gone when the sound of shuffling footsteps in thehall announced an arrival, and a moment after, a boy, apparentlyfifteen years of age, appeared in the door. He was richly thoughcarelessly dressed, and notwithstanding the good-humored expressionof his rather handsome face, there was in his whole appearance anindescribable something which at once pronounced him to be a "fast"boy. A rowdy hat was set on one side of his head, after the mostapproved fashion, while in his hand he held a lighted cigar, which heapplied to his mouth when he saw the parlor was unoccupied, save byan "old woman" and a "little girl. "

Instinctively 'Lena shrank from him, and withdrawing herself as faras possible within the recess of the window, pretended to be busilywatching the passers-by. But she did not escape his notice, andafter coolly surveying her for a moment, he walked up to her, saying, "How d'ye, polywog? I'll be hanged if I know to what gender youbelong--woman or _gal_--which is it, hey?"

"None of your business, " was 'Lena's ready answer. 

"Spunky, ain't you, " said he, unceremoniously pulling one of thebrown curls which Durward had so longed to touch. "Seems to me yourhair don't match the rest of you; wonder if 'tisn't somebody else'shead set on your shoulders. "

"No, it ain't. It's my own head, and you just let it alone, "returned 'Lena, growing more and more indignant, and wondering ifthis were a specimen of Kentucky boys. 

"Don't be saucy, " continued her tormentor; "I only want to see whatsort of stuff you are made of. "

"Made of _dirt_" muttered 'Lena. 

"I reckon you are, " returned the boy; "but say, where _did_ you comefrom and who _do_ you live with?"

"I came from Massachusetts, and I live with _granny_, " said 'Lena, thinking that if she answered him civilly, he would perhaps let heralone. But she was mistaken. 

Glancing at "_granny_, " he burst into a loud laugh, and then placinghis hat a little more on one side, and assuming a nasal twang, hesaid, "Neow dew tell, if you're from Massachusetts. How dew you dew, little Yankee, and how are all the folks to hum?"

Feeling sure that not only herself but all her relations wereincluded in this insult, 'Lena darted forward hitting him a blow inthe face, which he returned by puffing smoke into hers, whereupon shesnatched the cigar from his mouth and hurled it into the street, bidding him "touch her again if he dared. " All this transpired sorapidly that Mrs. Nichols had hardly time to understand its meaning, but fully comprehending it now, she was about coming to the rescue, when her son reappeared, exclaiming, "_John_, John Livingstone, Jr. , how came you here?"

Had a cannon exploded at the feet of John Jr. , as he was called, hecould not have been more startled. He was not expecting his fatherfor two or three days, and was making the most of his absence byhaving what he called a regular "spree. " Taking him altogether, hewas, without being naturally bad, a spoiled child, whom no one couldmanage except his father, and as his father seldom tried, he was ofcourse seldom managed. Never yet had he remained at any school morethan two quarters, for if he were not sent away, he generally ranaway, sure of finding a champion in his mother, who had always pettedhim, calling him, "Johnny darling, " until he one day very coollyinformed her that she was "a silly old fool, " and that "he'd thankher not to 'Johnny darling' him any longer. "

It would be difficult to describe the amazement of John Jr. When'Lena was presented to him as his _cousin_, and Mrs. Nichols as his_grandmother_. Something which sounded very much like an oathescaped his lips, as turning to his father he muttered, "Won't mothergo into fits?" Then, as he began to realize the ludicrousness of thewhole affair, he exclaimed, "Rich, good, by gracious!" and laughingloudly, he walked away to regale himself with another cigar. 

Lena began to tremble for her future happiness, if this boy was tolive in the same house with her. She did not know that she hadalready more than half won his good opinion, for he was far betterpleased with her antagonistical demonstrations, than he would havebeen had she cried or ran from him, as his sister Anna generally didwhen he teased her. After a few moments here turned to the parlor, and walking up to Mrs. Nichols, commenced talking very sociably withher, calling her "Granny, " and winking slyly at 'Lena as he did so. Mr. Livingstone had too much good sense to sit quietly by and hearhis mother ridiculed by his son, and in a loud, stern voice he badethe young gentleman "behave himself. "

"Law, now, " said Mrs. Nichols, "let him talk if he wants to. I liketo hear him. He's the only grandson I've got. "

This speech had the effect of silencing John Jr. Quite as much ashis father's command. If he could tease his grandmother by talkingto her, he would take delight in doing so, but if she _wanted_ him totalk--that was quite another thing. So moving away from her, he tooka seat near 'Lena, telling her her dress was "a heap too short, " andoccasionally pinching her, just to vary the sport! This last, however, 'Lena returned with so much force that he grew weary of thefun, and informing her that he was going to a _circus_ which was intown that evening, he arose to leave the room. 

Mr. Livingstone, who partially overheard what he had said, stoppedhim and asked "where he was going?"

Feigning a yawn and rubbing his eyes, John Jr. Replied that "he wasconfounded sleepy and was going to bed. "

"'Lena, where did he say he was going?" asked her uncle. 

'Lena trembled, for John Jr. Had clinched his fist, and was shakingit threateningly at her. 

"Where did he say he was going?" repeated her uncle. 

Poor 'Lena had never told a lie in her life, and now braving hercousin's anger, she said, "To the circus, sir. Oh, I wish you hadnot asked me. "

"You'll get your pay for that, " muttered John Jr. Sullenly reseatinghimself by his father, who kept an eye on him until he saw him safelyin his room. 

Much as John Jr. Frightened 'Lena with his threats, in his heart herespected her for telling the truth, and if the next morning on theirway home in the stage, in which his father compelled him to take aseat, he frequently found it convenient to step on her feet, it wasmore from a natural propensity to torment than from any lurkingfeeling of revenge. 'Lena was nowise backward in returning hiscousinly attentions, and so between an interchange of kicks, wryfaces, and so forth, they proceeded toward "Maple Grove, " adescription of which will be given in another chapter. 

CHAPTER V. 

MAPLE GROVE. 

The residence of Mr. Livingstone, or rather of Mr. Livingstone's wife, was a large, handsome building, such as one often finds in Kentucky, particularly in the country. Like most planters' houses, it stood atsome little distance from the street, from which its massive walls, wreathed with evergreen, were just discernible. The carriage roadwhich led to it passed first through a heavy iron gate guarded by hugebronze lions, so natural and life-like, that Mrs. Nichols, when firstshe saw them, uttered a cry of fear. Next came a beautiful maplegrove, followed by a long, green lawn, dotted here and there withforest trees and having on its right a deep running brook, whosewaters, farther on at the rear of the garden, were formed into aminiature fish-pond. 

The house itself was of brick--two storied, and surrounded on threesides with a double piazza, whose pillars were entwined with climbingroses, honey-suckle, and running vines, so closely interwoven as togive it the appearance of an immense summer-house. In the spaciousyard in front, tall shade trees and bright green grass were growing, while in the well-kept garden at the left, bloomed an endless varietyof roses and flowering shrubs, which in their season filled the airwith perfume, and made the spot brilliant with beauty. Directlythrough the center of this garden ran the stream of which we havespoken, and as its mossy banks were never disturbed, they presented theappearance of a soft, velvety ridge, where each spring the starrydandelion and the blue-eyed violet grew. 

Across the brook two small foot-bridges had been built, both of whichwere latticed and overgrown by luxuriant grape-vines, whose dark, greenfoliage was now intermingled with clusters of the rich purple fruit. At the right, and somewhat in the rear of the building, was a group oflinden trees, overshadowing the whitewashed houses of the negroes, who, imitating as far as possible the taste of their master, beautifiedtheir dwellings with hop-vines, creepers, hollyhocks and the like. Altogether, it was as 'Lena said, "just the kind of place which onereads of in stories, " and which is often found at the "sunny south. "The interior of the building corresponded with the exterior, for withone exception, the residence of a wealthy Englishman, Mrs. Livingstoneprided herself upon having the best furnished house in the county;consequently neither pains nor money had been spared in the selectionof the furniture, which was of the most costly kind. 

Carrie, the eldest of the daughters, was now about thirteen years ofage. Proud, imperious, deceitful, and self-willed, she was hated bythe servants, and disliked by her equals. Some thought her pretty. _She_ felt sure of it, and many an hour she spent before the mirror, admiring herself and anticipating the time when she would be a grown-uplady, and as a matter of course, a belle. Her mother unfortunatelybelonged to that class who seem to think that the chief aim in life isto secure a "brilliant match, " and thinking she could not commence toosoon, she had early instilled into her favorite daughter's mind thenecessity of appearing to the best possible advantage, when in thepresence of wealth and distinction, pointing out her own marriage as aproof of the unhappiness resulting from unequal matches. In this wayCarrie had early learned that her father owed his present position toher mother's condescension in marrying him--that he was once a poor boyliving among the northern hills--that his parents were poor, ignorantand vulgar--and that there was with them a little girl, theirdaughter's child, who never had a father, and whom she must never onany occasion call her cousin. 

All this had likewise been told to Anna, the youngest daughter, who wasabout 'Lena's age, but upon her it made no impression. If her fatherwas once poor, he was in her opinion none the worse for that--and if_he_ liked his parents, that was a sufficient reason why she shouldlike them too, and if little 'Lena was an orphan, she pitied her, andhoped she might sometime see her and tell her so! Thus Anna reasoned, while her mother, terribly shocked at her low-bred taste, strove toinstill into her mind some of her own more aristocratic notions. Butall in vain, for Anna was purely democratic, loving everybody andbeloved by everybody in return. It is true she had no particularliking for books or study of any kind, but she was gentle andaffectionate in her manner, and kindly considerate of other people'sfeelings. With her father she was a favorite, and to her he alwayslooked for sympathy, which she seldom failed to give--not in words, itis true, but whenever he seemed to be in trouble, she would climb intohis lap, wind her arms around his neck, and laying her golden head uponhis shoulder, would sit thus until his brow and heart grew lighter ashe felt there was yet something in the wide world which loved and caredfor him. 

For Carrie Mrs. Livingstone had great expectations, but Anna she fearedwould never make a "brilliant match. " For a long time Anna meditatedupon this, wondering what a "brilliant match" could mean, and at lastshe determined to seek an explanation from Captain Atherton, a bachelorand a millionaire, who was in the habit of visiting them, and whoalways noticed and petted her more than he did Carrie. Accordingly, the next time he came, and they were alone in the parlor, she broachedthe subject, asking him what it meant. 

Laughing loudly, the Captain drew her toward him, saying, "Why, marrying rich, you little novice. For instance, if one of these daysyou should be my little wife, I dare say your mother would think youhad made a brilliant match!" and the well-preserved gentleman of fortyglanced complacently at himself in the mirror thinking how probable itwas that his youthfulness would be unimpaired for at least ten years tocome!

Anna laughed, for to her his words then conveyed no serious meaning, but with more than her usual quickness she replied, that "she would assoon marry her grandfather. "

With Mrs. Livingstone the reader is partially acquainted. In her youthshe had been pretty, and now at thirty-eight she was not withoutpretensions to beauty, notwithstanding her sallow complexion and sunkeneyes, Her hair, which was very abundant, was bright and glossy, and hermouth, in which the dentist had done his best, would have beenhandsome, had it not been for a certain draw at the corners, which gaveit a scornful and rather disagreeable expression. In her dispositionshe was overbearing and tyrannical, fond of ruling, and deeming herhusband a monster of ingratitude if ever in any way he manifested aspirit of rebellion. Didn't she marry him? and now they were married, didn't her money support him? And wasn't it exceedingly amiable in heralways to speak of their children as _ours_! But as for the rest, 'twas _my_ house, _my_ servants, _my_ carriage, and _my_ horses. All_mine_--"Mrs. John Livingstone's--Miss Matilda Richards that was!"

Occasionally, however, her husband's spirit was roused, and then, aftera series of tears, sick-headaches, and then spasms, "Miss MatildaRichards that Was" was compelled to yield her face for many dayswearing the look of a much-injured, heart-broken woman. Still herinfluence over him was great, else she had never so effectuallyweakened every tie which bound him to his native home, making himashamed of his parents and of everything pertaining to them. When herhusband first wrote, to her that his father was dead and that he hadpromised to take charge of his mother and 'Lena, she new into a violentrage, which was increased ten-fold when she received his second letter, wherein he announced his intention of bringing them home in spite ofher. Bursting into tears she declared "she'd leave the house beforeshe'd have it filled up with a lot of paupers. Who did John Nicholsthink he was, and who did he think she was! Besides that, where was hegoing to put them? for there wasn't a place for them that she knew of!"

"Why, mother, " said Anna who was pleased with the prospect of a newgrandmother and cousin, "Why, mother, what a story. There's the twobig chambers and bedrooms, besides the one next to Carrie's and mine. Oh, do put them in there. It'll be so nice to have grandma and cousin'Lena so near me. "

"Anna Livingstone!" returned the indignant lady, "Never let me hear yousay grandma and cousin again. "

"But they be grandma and cousin, " persisted Anna, while her mothercommenced lamenting the circumstance which had made them so, wishing, as she had often done before, that she had never married John Nichols. 

"I reckon you are not the only one that wishes so, " slyly whisperedJohn Jr. , who was a witness to her emotion. 

Anna was naturally of an inquiring mind, and her mother's last remarkawoke within her a new and strange train of thought, causing her towonder whose little girl she would have been, her father's or mother's, in case they had each married some one else! As there was no one whoseopinion Anna dared to ask, the question is undoubtedly to this day, with her, unsolved. 

The next morning when Mrs. Livingstone arose, her anger of the daybefore was somewhat abated, and knowing from past experience that itwas useless to resist her husband when once he was determined, shewisely concluded that as they were now probably on the road, it wasbest to try to endure, for a time, at least, what could not well behelped. And now arose the perplexing question, "What should she dowith them? where should she put them that they would be the most out ofthe way? for she could never suffer them to be round when she hadcompany. " The chamber of which Anna had spoken was out of thequestion, for it was too nice, and besides that, it was reserved forthe children of her New Orleans friends, who nearly every summer cameup to visit her. 

At the rear of the building was a long, low room, containing afireplace and two windows, which looked out upon the negro quarters andthe hemp fields beyond. This room, which in the summer was used forstoring feather-beds, blankets, and so forth, was plastered, but minuseither paper or paint. Still it was quite comfortable, "better thanthey were accustomed to at home, " Mrs. Livingstone said, and this shedecided to give them. Accordingly the negroes were set at workscrubbing the floor, washing the windows, and scouring the sills, untilthe room at least possessed the virtue of being clean. A faded carpet, discarded as good for nothing, and over which the rats had long heldtheir nightly revels, was brought to light, shaken, mended, and naileddown--then came a bedstead, which Mrs. Livingstone had designed as aChristmas gift to one of the negroes, but which of course would do wellenough for her mother-in-law. Next followed an old woodenrocking-chair, whose ancestry Anna had tried in vain to trace, andwhich Carrie had often proposed burning. This, with two or three morechairs of a later date, a small wardrobe, and a square table, completedthe furniture of the room, if we except the plain muslin curtains whichshaded the windows, destitute of blinds. Taking it by itself, the roomlooked tolerably well, but when compared with the richly furnishedapartments around it, it seemed meager and poor indeed; "but if theywanted anything better, they could get it themselves. They werewelcome to make any alterations they chose. "

This mode of reasoning hardly satisfied Anna, and unknown to her mothershe took from her own chamber a handsome hearth-rug, and carrying it toher grandmother's room, laid it before the fireplace. Comingaccidentally upon a roll of green paper, she, with the help of Corinda, a black girl, made some shades for the windows, which faced the west, rendering the room intolerably hot during the summer season. Then, atthe suggestion of Corinda, she looped back the muslin curtains withsome green ribbons, which she had intended using for her "dolly'sdress. " The bare appearance of the table troubled her, but byrummaging, she brought to light a cast-off spread, which, though soiledand worn, was on one side quite handsome. 

"Now, if we only had something for the mantel, " said she; "it seems soempty. "

Corinda thought a moment, then rolling up the whites of her eyes, replied, "Don't you mind them little pitchers" (meaning vases) "whichMaster Atherton done gin you? They'd look mighty fine up thar, full ofsprigs and posies. "

Without hesitating a moment Anna brought the vases, and as she did notknow the exact time when her grandmother would arrive, she determinedto fill them with fresh flowers every morning. 

"There, it looks a heap better, don't it, Carrie?" said she to hersister, who chanced to be passing the door and looked in. 

"You must be smart, " answered Carrie, "taking so much pains just forthem; and as I live, if you haven't got those elegant vases thatCaptain Atherton gave you for a birthday present! I know mother won'tlike it. I mean to tell her;" and away she ran with the important news. 

"There, I told you so, " said she, quickly returning. "She says youcarry them straight back and let the room alone. "

Anna began to cry, saying "the vases were hers, and she should thinkshe might do what she pleased with them. "

"What did you go and blab for, you great for shame, you?" exclaimedJohn Jr. , suddenly appearing in the doorway, at the same time givingCarrie a push, which set her to crying, and brought Mrs. Livingstone tothe scene of action, "Can't my vases stay in here? Nobody'll hurt 'em, and they'll look sopretty, " said Anna. 

"Can't that hateful John behave, and let me alone?" said Carrie. 

"And can't Carrie quit sticking her nose in other folks' business?"chimed in John Jr. 

"Oh Lordy, what a fuss, " said Corinda, while poor Mrs. Livingstone, half distracted, took refuge under one of her dreadful headaches, andtelling her children "to fight their own battles and let her alone, "returned to her room. 

"A body'd s'pose marster's kin warn't of no kind of count, " said AuntMilly, the head cook, to a group of sables, who, in the kitchen, werediscussing the furniture of the "trump'ry room, " as they were in thehabit of calling the chamber set apart for Mrs. Nichols. "Yes, theywould s'pose they warn't of no kind o' count, the way miss goes on, ravin' and tarin' and puttin' 'em off with low-lived truck that weblack folks wouldn't begin to tache with the tongs. Massy knows ef myole mother warn't dead and gone to kingdom come, I should never thinko' sarvin' her so, and I don't set myself up to be nothin' but an oldnigger, and a black one at that. But Lor' that's the way with more'nhalf the white folks. They jine the church, and then they think theydone got a title deed to one of them houses up in heaven (that nobodyever built) sure enough. Goin' straight thar, as fast as a span ofrace-horses can carry 'em. Ki! Won't they be disappointed, some on'em, and Miss Matilda 'long the rest, when she drives up, hosses all areekin' sweat, and spects to walk straight into the best room, but istold to go to the kitchen and turn hoe-cakes for us niggers, who areeatin' at the fust table, with silver forks and napkins----?"

Here old Milly stopped to breathe, and her daughter Vine, who hadlistened breathlessly to her mother's description of the "good timecoming, " asked "when these things come to pass, if Miss Carrie wouldn'thave to swing the feathers over the table to keep off the flies, instead of herself?"

"Yes, that she will, child, " returned her mother; "Things is all gwineto be changed in the wink of your eye. Miss Anna read that very tex'to me last Sunday and I knew in a minit what it meant. Now thar's MissAnna, blessed lamb. She's one of 'em that'll wear her white gowns andstay in t'other room, with her face shinin' like an ile lamp!"

While this interesting conversation was going on in the kitchen, JohnJr. , in the parlor was teasing his mother for money, with which to goup to Lexington the next day. "You may just as well give it to mewithout any fuss, " said he, "for if you don't, I'll get my bills at thePhoenix charged. The old man is good, and they'll trust. But then afeller feels more independent when he can pay down, and treat a friend, if he likes; so hand over four or five Vs. "

At first Mrs. Livingstone refused, but her head ached so hard and her"nerves trembled so, " that she did not feel equal to the task ofcontending with John Jr. , who was always sure in the end to have hisown way. Yielding at last to his importunities, she gave him fifteendollars, charging him to "keep out of bad company and be a good boy. "

"Trust me for that, " said he, and pulling the tail of Anna's petkitten, upsetting Carrie's work-box, poking a black baby's ribs withhis walking cane, and knocking down a cob-house, which "ThomasJefferson" had been all day building, he mounted his favorite"Firelock, " and together with a young negro, rode off. 

"The Lord send us a little peace now, " said Aunt Milly, tossing hersqualling baby up in the air, and telling Thomas Jefferson not to cry, "for his young master was done gone off. "

"And I hope to goodness he'll stay off a spell, " she added, "for thar'sole Sam to pay the whole time he's at home, and if ever thar was atickled critter in this world it's me, when he clar's out. "

"I'm glad, too, " said Anna, who had been sent to the kitchen to stopthe screaming, "and I wish he'd stay ever so long, for I don't take abit of comfort when he's at home. "

"Great hateful! I wish he didn't live here, " said Carrie, gathering upher spools, thimble and scissors, while Mrs. Livingstone, feeling thathis absence had taken a load from her shoulders, settled herself uponher silken lounge and tried to sleep. 

Amid all this rejoicing at his departure, John Jr. Put spurs to thefleet Firelock, who soon carried him to Lexington, where, as we haveseen, he came unexpectedly upon his father, who, not daring to trusthim on horseback, lest he should play the truant, took him into thestage with himself, leaving Firelock to the care of the negro. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE ARRIVAL. 

"Oh, mother, get up quick--the stage has driven up at the gate, and Ireckon pa has come, " said Anna, bursting into the room where hermother, who was suffering from a headache, was still in bed. 

Raising herself upon her elbow, and pushing aside the rich, heavycurtains, Mrs. Livingstone looked out upon the mud-bespatteredvehicle, from which a leg, encased in a black and white stocking, wasjust making its egress. "Oh, heavens!" said she, burying her faceagain in the downy pillows. Woman's curiosity, however, soonprevailed over all other feelings, and again looking out she obtaineda full view of her mother-in-law, who, having emerged from the coach, was picking out her boxes, trunks, and so forth. When they were allfound, Mr. Livingstone ordered two negroes to carry them to the sidepiazza, where they were soon mounted by three or four little darkies, Thomas Jefferson among the rest. 

"John, _John_" said Mrs. Nichols, "them niggers won't scent mythings, will they?"

"Don't talk, granny, " whispered 'Lena, painfully conscious of thecurious eyes fixed upon them by the bevy of blacks, who had come outto greet their master, and who with sidelong glances at each other, were inspecting the new comers. 

"Don't talk! why not?" said Mrs. Nichols, rather sharply. "This is afree country I suppose. " Then bethinking herself, she added quickly, "Oh, I forgot, 'taint free _here_!"

After examining the satchel and finding that the night gown sleevewas safe, Mrs. Nichols took up her line of march for the house, herself carrying her umbrella and band-box, which she would notintrust to the care of the negroes, "as like enough they'd break theumberell, or squash her caps. "

"The trumpery room is plenty good enough for 'em, " thought Corinda, retreating into the kitchen and cutting sundry flourishes in token ofher contempt. 

The moment 'Lena came in sight, Mrs. Livingstone exclaimed, "Oh, mercy, which is the oldest?" and truly, poor 'Lena did present asorry figure, Her bonnet, never very handsome or fashionable, had received an uglycrook in front, which neither her grandmother or uncle had noticed, and of which John Jr. Would not tell her, thinking that the worse shelooked the more fun he would have! Her skirts were not very full, and her dress hung straight around her, making her of the samebigness from her head to her feet. Her shoes, which had been givento her by one of the neighbors, were altogether too large, and it waswith considerable difficulty that she could keep them on, but then asthey were a present, Mrs. Nichols said "it was a pity not to get allthe good out of them she could. "

In front of herself and grandmother, walked Mr. Livingstone, moody, silent, and cross. Behind them was John Jr. , mimicking first 'Lena'sgait and then his grandmother's. The negroes, convulsed withlaughter, darted hither and thither, running against and over eachother, and finally disappearing, some behind the house and some intothe kitchen, and all retaining a position from which they could havea full view of the proceedings. On the piazza stood Anna and Carrie, the one with her handkerchief stuffed in her mouth, and the otherwith her mouth open, astounded at the unlooked-for spectacle. 

"Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?" groaned Mrs. Livingstone. 

"Do? Get up and dress yourself, and come and see your new relations:that's what I should do, " answered John Jr. , who, tired of mimicking, had run forward, and now rushed unceremoniously into his mother'ssleeping-room, leaving the door open behind him. 

"John Livingstone, what do you mean?" said she, "shut that door thisminute. "

Feigning not to hear her, John Jr. Ran back to the piazza, which hereached just in time to hear the presentation of his sisters. 

"This is Carrie, and this is Anna, " said Mr. Livingstone, pointing toeach one as he pronounced her name. 

Marching straight up to Carrie and extending her hand, Mrs. Nicholsexclaimed, "Now I want to know if this is Car'line. I'd no idee shewas so big. You pretty well, Car'line?"

Very haughtily Carrie touched the ends of her grandmother's fingers, and with stately gravity replied that she was well. 

Turning next to Anna, Mrs. Nichols continued, "And this is Anny. Looks weakly 'pears to me, kind of blue around the eyes as though shewas fitty. Never have fits, do you, dear?"

"No, ma'am, " answered Anna, struggling hard to keep from laughingoutright. 

Here Mr. Livingstone inquired for his wife, and on being told thatshe was sick, started for her room. 

"Sick? Is your marm sick?" asked Mrs. Nichols of John Jr. "Wall, Iguess I'll go right in and sea if I can't do somethin' for her. I'mtolerable good at nussin'. "

Following her son, who did not observe her, she entered unannouncedinto the presence of her elegant daughter-in-law, who, with a littleshriek, covered her head with the bed-clothes. Knowing that shemeant well, and never dreaming that she was intruding, Mrs. Nicholswalked up to the bedside, saying, "How de do, 'Tilda? I suppose youknow I'm your mother--come all the way from Massachusetts to livewith you. What is the matter? Do you take anything for yoursickness?"

A groan was Mrs. Livingstone's only answer. 

"Little hystericky, I guess, " suggested Mrs. Nichols, adding that"settin' her feet in middlin' hot water is good for that. "

"She is nervous, and the sight of strangers makes her worse. So Ireckon you'd better go out for the present, " said Mr. Livingstone, who really pitied his wife. Then calling Corinda, he bade her showhis mother to her room. 

Corinda obeyed, and Mrs. Nichols followed her, asking her on the way"what her surname was, how old she was, if she knew how to read, andif she hadn't a good deal rather be free than to be a slave!" towhich Corinda replied, that "she didn't know what a surname meant, that she didn't know how old she was, that she didn't know how toread, and that she didn't know whether she'd like to be free or not, but reckoned she shouldn't. "

"A half-witted gal that, " thought Mrs. Nichols, "and I guess 'Tildadon't set much store by her. " Then dropping into the woodenrocking-chair and laying aside her bonnet, she for the first timenoticed that 'Lena was not with her, and asked Corinda to go for her. 

Corinda complied, leaving the room just in time to stifle a laugh, asshe saw Mrs. Nichols stoop down to examine the hearth-rug, wondering"how much it cost when 'twas new. "

We left 'Lena standing on the steps of the piazza. 

At a glance she had taken in the whole--had comprehended that therewas no affinity whatever between herself and the objects around her, and a wild, intense longing filled her heart to be once more amongher native hills. She had witnessed the merriment of the blacks, thescornful curl of Carrie's lip, the half-suppressed ridicule of Anna, when they met her grandmother, and now uncertain of her ownreception, she stood before her cousins not knowing whether toadvance or run away. For a moment there was an awkward silence, andthen John Jr. , bent on mischief, whispered to Carrie, "Look at thatpinch in her bonnet, and just see her shoes! Big as littlesailboats!"

This was too much for Lena. She already disliked John Jr. , and now, flying into a violent passion, she drew off her shoes, and hurlingthem at the young gentleman's head fled away, away, she knew not, cared not whither, so that she got out of sight and hearing. Comingat last to the arbor bridge across the brook in the garden, shepaused for breath, and throwing herself upon a seat, burst into aflood of tears. For several minutes she sobbed so loudly that shedid not hear the sound of footsteps upon the graveled walk. Anna hadfollowed her, partly out of curiosity, and partly out of pity, thelatter of which preponderated when she saw how bitterly her cousinwas weeping. Going up to her she said, "Don t cry so, 'Lena. Lookup and talk. It's Anna, your cousin. "

'Lena had not yet recovered from her angry fit, and thinking Annaonly came to tease her, and perhaps again ridicule her bonnet, shetore the article, from her head, and bending it up double, threw itinto the stream, which carried it down to the fish-pond, where fortwo or three hours it furnished amusement for some little negroes, who, calling it a crab, fished for it with hook and line! For amoment Anna stood watching the bonnet as it sailed along down thestream, thinking it looked better there than on its owner's head, butwondering why 'Lena had thrown it away. Then again addressing hercousin, she asked why she had done so?

"It's a homely old thing, and I hate it, " answered 'Lena, againbursting into tears. "I hate everybody, and I wish I was dead, orback in Massachusetts, I don't care which!"

With her impressions of the "Bay State, " where her mother said folkslived on "cold beans and codfish, " Anna thought she should prefer thefirst alternative, but she did not say so; and after a little shetried again to comfort 'Lena, telling her "she liked her, or at leastshe was going to like her a heap. "

"No, you ain't, " returned 'Lena. "You laughed at me and granny both. I saw you do it, and you think I don't know anything, but I do. I'vebeen through Olney's geography, and Colburn's arithmetic twice!"

This was more than Anna could say. She had no scholarship of whichto boast; but she had a heart brimful of love, and in reply to'Lena's accusation of having laughed at her, she replied, "I know Ilaughed, for grandma looked so funny I couldn't help it. But I won'tany more. I pity you because your mother is dead, and you never hadany father, ma says. "

This made 'Lena cry again, while Anna continued, "Pa'll buy you somenew clothes I reckon, and if he don't, I'll give you some of mine, for I've got heaps, and they'll fit you I most know. Here's mymark--" pointing to a cut upon the door-post. "Here's mine, andCarrie's and brother's. Stand up and see if you don't measure like Ido, "

'Lena complied, and to Anna's great joy they were just of a height. 

"I'm so glad, " said she. "Now, come to my room and Corinda will fixyou up mighty nice before mother sees you. "

Hand-in-hand the two girls started for the house, but had not gonefar when they heard some one calling, "Ho, Miss 'Lena, whar is you?Ole miss done want you. " At the same time Corinda made herappearance round the corner of the piazza. 

"Here, Cora, " said Anna. "Come with me to my room; I want you. "

With a broad grin Corinda followed her young mistress, while 'Lena, never having been accustomed to any negro save the one with whom manyNew England children are threatened when they cry, clung closer toAnna's side, occasionally casting a timid glance toward thedark-browed girl who followed them. In the upper hall they met withCarrie, who in passing 'Lena held back her dress, as if fearingcontamination from a contact with her cousin's plainer garments. Painfully alive to the slightest insult, 'Lena reddened, while Annasaid, "Never mind--that's just like Cad, but nobody cares for _her_. "

Thus reassured 'Lena followed on, until they reached Anna's room, which they were about to enter, when the shrill voice of Mrs. Nicholsfell upon their ears, calling, "'Leny, 'Leny, where upon airth isshe?"

"Let's go to her first, " said 'Lena, and leading the way Anna soonushered her into her grandmother's room which, child as she was, 'Lena readily saw was far different from the handsome apartments ofwhich she had obtained a passing glance. 

But Mrs. Nichols had not thought of this--and was doubtless bettersatisfied with her present quarters than she would have been with thebest furnished chamber in the house. The moment her granddaughterappeared, she exclaimed, "'Leny Rivers, where have you been? I wasworried to death, for fear you might be runnin' after some of thempaltry niggers. And now whilst I think on't, I charge you never togo a nigh 'em; I'd no idee they were such half-naked, nasty critters. "

This prohibition was a novelty to Anna, who spent many happy hourswith her sable-hued companions, never deeming herself the worse forit. Her grandmother's first remark, however, struck her still moreforcibly, and she immediately asked, "Grandma, what did you call'Lena, just now? 'Lena what?"

"I called her by her name, 'Lena Rivers. What should I call her?"returned Mrs. Nichols. 

"Why, I thought her name was 'Lena Nichols; ma said 'twas, " answeredAnna. 

Mrs. Nichols was very sensitive to any slight cast upon 'Lena'sbirth, and she rather tartly informed Anna, that "her mother didn'tknow everything, " adding that "'Lena's father was Mr. Rivers, andthere wasn't half so much reason why she should be called Nichols asthere was why Anna should, for that was her father's name, the one bywhich he was baptized, the same day with Nancy Scovandyke, who's jesthis age, only he was born about a quarter past four in the morning, and she not till some time in the afternoon!"

"But where is Mr. Rivers?" asked Anna more interested in him than inthe exact minute of her father's birth. 

"The Lord only knows, " returned Mrs. Nichols. "Little girlsshouldn't ask too many questions. "

This silenced Anna, and satisfied her that there was some mysteryconnected with 'Lena. The mention of Nancy Scovandyke reminded Mrs. Nichols of the dishes which that lady had packed away, and anxious tosee if they were safe, she turned to 'Lena saying, "I guess we'llhave time before dinner to unpack my trunks, for I want to know howthe crockery stood the racket. Anny, you run down and tell your pato fetch 'em up here, that's a good girl. "

In her eagerness to know what those weather-beaten boxes contained, Anna forgot her scheme of dressing 'Lena, and ran down, not to callher father, but the black boy, Adam. It took her a long time to findhim, and Mrs. Nichols, growing impatient, determined to go herself, spite of 'Lena's entreaties that she would stay where she was. Passing down the long stairway, and out upon the piazza, she espied anegro girl on her hands and knees engaged in cleaning the steps witha cloth. Instantly remembering her mop, she greatly lamented thatshe had left it behind--"'twould come so handy now, " thought she, butthere was no help for it. 

Walking up to the girl, whose name she did not know, she said, "Sissy, can you tell me where _John_ is?"

Quickly "Sissy's" ivories became visible, as she replied, "We hain'tgot any such nigger as John. "

With a silent invective upon negroes in general, and this one inparticular, Mrs. Nichols choked, stammered, and finally said, "Ididn't ask for a _nigger_; I want your master, _John_!"

Had the old lady been a Catholic, she would have crossed herself forthus early breaking her promise to Nancy Scovandyke. As it was, shementally asked forgiveness, and as the colored girl "didn't knowwhere marster was, " but "reckoned he had gone somewhar, " she turnedaside, and seeking her son's room, again entered unannounced. Mrs. Livingstone, who was up and dressed, frowned darkly upon her visitor. But Mrs. Nichols did not heed it, and advancing forward, she said, "Do you feel any better, 'Tilda? I'd keep kinder still to-day, andnot try to do much, for if you feel any consarned about thehousework, I'd just as lief see to't a little after dinner as not. "

"I have all confidence in Milly's management, and seldom troublemyself about the affairs of the kitchen, " answered Mrs. Livingstone. 

"Wall, then, " returned her mother-in-law, nothing daunted, "Wall, then, mebby you'd like to have me come in and set with you a while. "

It would be impossible for us to depict Mrs. Livingstone's look ofsurprise and anger at this proposition. Her face alternately flushedand then grew pale, until at last she found voice to say, "I greatlyprefer being alone, madam. It annoys me excessively to have any oneround. "

"Considerable kind o' touchy, " thought Mrs. Nichols, "but then thepoor critter is sick, and I shan't lay it up agin her. "

Taking out her snuff-box, she offered it to her daughter, telling herthat "like enough 'twould cure her headache. " Mrs. Livingstone'sfirst impulse was to strike it from her mother's hand, but knowinghow unladylike that would be, she restrained herself, and turningaway her head, replied, "Ugh! no! The very sight of it makes mesick. "

"How you do talk! Wall, I've seen folks that it sarved jest so; butyou'll get over it. Now there was Nancy Scovandyke--did John eversay anything about her? Wall, she couldn't bear snuff till after herdisappointment--John told you, I suppose?"

"No, madam, my husband has never told me anything concerning hiseastern friends, neither do I wish to hear anything of them, "returned Mrs. Livingstone, her patience on the point of giving out. 

"Never told you nothin' about Nancy Scovandyke! If that don't beatall! Why, he was----"

She was prevented from finishing the sentence, which wouldundoubtedly have raised a domestic breeze, when Anna came to tell herthat the trunks were carried to her room. 

"I'll come right up then, " said she, adding, more to herself than anyone else, "If I ain't mistaken, I've got a little paper of saffronsomewhere, which I mean to steep for 'Tilda. Her skin looks desputjandissy!"

When Mr. Livingstone again entered his wife's room, he found her in acollapsed state of anger and mortification. 

"_John_ Nichols, " said she, with a strong emphasis on the first word, which sounded very much like _Jarn_, "do you mean to kill me bybringing that vulgar, ignorant thing here, walking into my roomwithout knocking--calling me '_Tilda_, and prating about Nancysomebody----"

John started. His wife knew nothing of his _affaire du coeur_ withMiss Nancy, and for his own peace of mind 't was desirable that sheshould not. Mentally resolving to give her a few hints, heendeavored to conciliate his wife, by saying that he knew "his motherwas troublesome, but she must try not to notice her oddities. "

"I wonder how I can help it, when she forces herself upon mecontinually, " returned his wife. "I must either deep the doorslocked, or live in constant terror. "

"It's bad, I know, " said he, smoothing her glossy hair, "but then, she's old, you know. Have you seen 'Lena?"

"No, neither do I wish to, if she's at all like her grandmother, "answered Mrs. Livingstone. 

"She's handsome, " suggested Mr. Livingstone. 

"Pshaw! handsome!" repeated his wife, scornfully, while he replied, "Yes, handsomer than either of our daughters, and with the sameadvantages, I've no doubt she'd surpass them both. "

"Those advantages, then, she shall never have, " returned Mrs. Livingstone, already jealous of a child she had only seen at adistance. 

Mr. Livingstone made no reply, but felt that he'd made a mistake inpraising 'Lena, in whom he began to feel a degree of interest forwhich he could not account. He did not know that way down in thedepths of his heart, calloused over as it was by worldly selfishness, there was yet a tender spot, a lingering memory of his only sisterwhom 'Lena so strongly resembled. If left to himself, he wouldundoubtedly have taken pride in seeing his niece improve, and as itwas, he determined that she should at home receive the sameinstruction that his daughters did. Perhaps he might not send heraway to school. He didn't know how that would be--his wife held thepurse, and taking refuge behind that excuse, he for the presentdismissed the subject. (So much for marrying a _rich_ wife andnothing else. This we throw in gratis!)

Meantime grandma had returned to her room, at the door of which shefound John Jr. And Carrie, both curious to know what was in thoseboxes, one of which had burst open and been tied up with a rope. 

"Come, children, " said she, "don't stay out there--come in. "

"We prefer remaining here, " said Carrie, in a tone and manner sonearly resembling her mother, that Mrs. Nichols could not refrainfrom saying, "chip of the old block!"

"That's so, by cracky. You've hit her this time, granny, " exclaimedJohn Jr. , snapping his fingers under Carrie's nose, which beingrather long, was frequently a subject of his ridicule. 

"Let me be, John Livingstone, " said Carrie, while 'Lena resolvednever again to use the word "granny, " which she knew her cousin hadtaken up on purpose to tease her. 

"Come, 'Lena, catch hold and help me untie this rope, I b'lieve thecrockery's in here, " said Mrs. Nichols to 'Lena, who soon opened thechest, disclosing to view as motley a variety of articles as is oftenseen. 

Among the rest was the "blue set, " a part of her "setting out, " ashis grandmother told John Jr. , at the same time dwelling at lengthupon their great value. Mistaking Carrie's look of contempt forenvy, Mrs. Nichols chucked her under the chin, telling her "May bethere was something for her, if she was a good girl. "

"Now, Cad, turn your nose up clear to the top of your head, " saidJohn Jr. , vastly enjoying his sister's vexation. 

"Where does your marm keep her china? I want to put this with it, "said Mrs. Nichols to Anna, who, uncertain what reply to make, lookedat Carrie to answer for her. 

"I reckon mother don't want that old stuff stuck into herchina-closet, " said Carrie, elevating her nose to a height whollysatisfactory to John Jr. , who unbuttoned one of his waistband buttonsto give himself room to laugh. 

"Mortal sakes alive! I wonder if she don't, " returned Mrs. Nichols, beginning to get an inkling of Carrie's character, and the estimationin which her valuables were held. 

"Here's a nice little cupboard over the fireplace; I'd put themhere, " said 'Lena. 

"Yes, " chimed in John Jr. , imitating both his grandmother and cousin;"yes, granny, put 'em there; the niggers are _awful critters_ tosteal, and like enough you'd 'lose 'em if they sot in with marm's!"

This argument prevailed. The dishes were put away in the cupboard, 'Lena thinking that with all his badness John Jr. , was of some useafter all. At last, tired of looking on, Anna suggested to 'Lena, who did not seem to be helping matters forward much, that the shouldgo and be dressed up as had been first proposed. Readily diviningher sister's intention, Carrie ran with it to her mother, who sentback word that "'Lena must mind her own affairs, and let Anna'sdresses alone!"

This undeserved thrust made 'Lena cry, while Anna declared "hermother never said any such thing, " which Carrie understood as aninsinuation that she had told a falsehood. Accordingly a quarrel ofwords ensued between the two sisters, which was finally quelled byJohn Jr. , who called to Carrie "to come down, as she'd got a letterfrom _Durward Bellmont_. "

Durward! How that name made 'Lena's heart leap! Was it _her_Durward--the boy in the cars? She almost hoped not, for somehow theidea of his writing to Carrie was not a pleasant one. At lastsummoning courage, she asked Anna who he was, and was told that helived in Louisville with his stepfather, Mr. Graham, and that Carrieabout two months before had met him in Frankfort at ColonelDouglass's, where she was in the habit of visiting. "ColonelDouglass, " continued Anna, "has got a right nice little girl whosename is Nellie. Then there's Mabel Ross, a sort of cousin, who liveswith them part of the time. She's an orphan and a great heiress. You mustn't tell anybody for the world, but I overheard ma say thatshe wanted John to marry Mabel, she's so rich--but pshaw! he won'tfor she's awful babyish and ugly looking. Captain Atherton isrelated to Nellie, and during the holidays she and Mabel are comingup to spend a week, and I'll bet Durward is coming too. Cad teasedhim, and he said may be he would if he didn't go to college thisfall. I'll run down and see. "

Soon returning, she brought the news that it was as she hadconjectured. Durward, who was now travelling, was not going tocollege until the next fall and at Christmas he was coming to thecountry with his cousin. 

"Oh, I'm so glad, " said Anna. "We'll have a time, for ma'll invitethem here, of course. Cad thinks a heap of Durward, and I want sobad to see him. Don't you?"

'Lena made no direct reply, for much as she would like to see her_compagnon du voyage_, she felt an unwillingness to meet him in thepresence of Carrie, who she knew would spare no pains to mortify her. Soon forgetting Durward, Anna again alluded to her plan of dressing'Lena, wishing "Cad would mind her own business. " Then, as a newidea entered her head, she brightened up, exclaiming, "I know what Ican do. I'll have Corinda curl your hair real pretty. You've gotbeautiful hair. A heap nicer than my yellow flax. "

'Lena offered no remonstrance, and Corinda, who came at the call ofher young mistress, immediately commenced brushing and curling thebright, wavy hair which Anna had rightly called beautiful. Whilethis was going on, Grandma Nichols, who had always adhered to thegood old puritanical custom of dining exactly at twelve o'clock, began to wonder why dinner was not forthcoming. She had breakfastedin Versailles, but like many travelers, could not eat much at ahotel, and now her stomach clamored loudly for food. Three times hadshe walked back and forth before what she supposed was the kitchen, and from which a savory smell of something was issuing, and at lastdetermining to stop and reconnoiter, she started for the door. 

The northern reader at all acquainted with southern life, knows wellthat a kitchen there and a kitchen here are two widely differentthings--ours, particularly in the country, being frequently used as adining-room, while a southern lady would almost as soon think ofeating in the barn as in her cook-room. Like most other planters, Mr. Livingstone's kitchen was separate and at some little distancefrom the main building, causing grandma to wonder "how the poorcritters managed to carry victuals back and to when it was cold andslippery. "

When Aunt Milly, who was up to her elbows in dough, saw her visitorapproaching, she exclaimed, "Lor'-a-mighty, if thar ain't ole misscoming straight into this lookin' hole! Jeff, you quit that ar'pokin' in dem ashes, and knock Lion out that kittle; does you har?And you, Polly, " speaking to a superannuated negress who was sittingnear the table, "you just shove that ar' piece of dough, I done saveto bake for you and me, under your char, whar she won't see it. "

Polly complied, and by this time Mrs. Nichols was at the door, surveying the premises, and thinking how differently she'd makethings look after a little. 

"Does missus want anything?" asked Aunt Milly, and grandma replied, "Yes, I want to know if 'tain't nigh about _noon_. "

This is a term never used among the blacks, and rolling up her whiteeyes, Aunt Milly answered, "You done got me now, sartin, for thischile know nothin' what you mean more'n the deadest critter livin'. "

As well as she could, Mrs. Nichols explained her meaning, and AuntMilly replied, "Oh, yes, yes, I know now. 'Is it most _dinner time?'Yes--dinner'll be done ready in an hour. We never has it till two noday, and when we has company not till three. "

Confident that she should starve, Mrs. Nichols advanced a step or twointo the kitchen, whereupon Aunt Milly commenced making excuses, saying, "she was gwine to clar up one of these days, and then ifThomas Jefferson and Marquis De Lafayette didn't quit that litterin'they'd cotch it"

Attracted by the clean appearance of Aunt Polly, who, not having towork, prided herself upon always being neatly dressed, Mrs. Nicholswalked up to her, and, to use a vulgar expression, the two old ladieswere soon "hand-in-glove, " Mrs. Nichols informing her of her loss, and how sorry Nancy Scovandyke would feel when she heard of it, andending by giving her the full particulars of her husband's sicknessand death. In return Aunt Polly said that "she was born and bredalong with ole Marster Richards, Miss Matilda's father, and that she, too, had buried a husband. "

With a deep sigh, Mrs. Nichols was about, to commiserate her, whenAunt Polly cut her short by saying, "'Twant of no kind o' count, asshe never relished him much. "

"Some drunken critter, I warrant, " thought Mrs. Nichols, at the sametime asking what his name was. 

"Jeems, " said Aunt Polly. 

This was not definite enough for Mrs. Nichols, who asked for thesurname, "Jeems what?"

"Jeems Atherton, I reckon, bein' he 'longed to ole Marster Atherton, "said Polly. 

For a time Mrs. Nichols had forgotten her hunger but the habit ofsixty years was not so easily broken and she now hinted so stronglyof the emptiness of her stomach that Aunt Polly, emboldened by herfamiliarity, said, "I never wait for the rest, but have my cup of teaor coffee just when I feel like it, and if missus wouldn't mindtakin' a bite with a nigger, she's welcome. "

"Say nothin' about it. We shall all be white in heaven. "

"Dat am de trufe, " muttered Milly, mentally assigning Mrs. Nichols amore exalted occupation than that of turning hoe-cakes!

Two cups and saucers were forthwith produced, Milly acting as awaiter for fear Aunt Polly would leave her seat and so disclose toview the loaf of bread which had been hidden under the chair! Somecoffee was poured from the pot, which still stood on the stove, andthen the little negroes, amused with the novelty of the thing, ranshouting and yelling that, "ole miss was eatin' in the kitchen 'longwith Lion, Aunt Polly and the other dogs!"

The coffee being drank, Mrs. Nichols returned to the house, thinking"what sights of comfort she should take with _Mrs. Atherton_, " whomshe pronounced to be "a likely, clever woman as ever was. "

Scarcely had she reached her room when the dinner-bell rang, everynote falling like an ice-bolt on the heart of 'Lena, who, thoughhungry like her grandmother, still greatly dreaded the dinner, fearing her inability to acquit herself creditably. Corinda hadfinished her hair, and Anna, looking over her wardrobe and comingupon the black dress which her father had purchased for her, hadinsisted upon 'Lena's wearing it. It was of rather more modern makethan any of her other dresses, and when her toilet was completed, shelooked uncommonly well. Still she trembled violently as Anna led herto the dining-room. 

Neither Mrs. Nichols nor Mrs. Livingstone had yet made theirappearance, but the latter soon came languidly in, wrapped in arose-colored shawl, which John Jr. , said "she wore to give a delicatetint to her yellow complexion. " She was in the worst of humors, having just been opening her husband's trunk, where she found thenumerous articles which had been stowed away by Nancy Scovandyke. Very angrily she had ordered them removed from her sight, and at thisvery moment the little negroes in the yard were playing with thecracked bellows, calling them a "blubber, " and filling them withwater to see it run out!

Except through the window, Mrs. Livingstone had not yet seen 'Lena, and now dropping into her chair, she never raised her eyes until Annasaid, "Mother, mother, this is 'Lena. Look at her. "

Thus importuned, Mrs. Livingstone looked up, and the frown with whichshe was prepared to greet her niece softened somewhat, for 'Lena wasnot a child to be looked upon and despised. Plain and humble as washer dress, there was something in her fine, open face, which at onceinterested and commanded respect, John Jr. , had felt it; his fatherhad felt it; and his mother felt it too, but it awoke in her afeeling of bitterness as she thought how the fair young girl beforeher might in time rival her daughters. At a glance, she saw that'Lena was beautiful, and that it was quite as much a beauty ofintellect as of feature and form. 

"Yes, " thought she, "husband was right when he said that, with thesame advantages, she'd soon outstrip her cousins--but it shall neverbe--_never_, " and the white teeth shut firmly together, as the cold, proud woman bowed a welcome. 

At this moment Mrs. Nichols appeared. Stimulated by the example of'Lena, she, too, had changed her dress, and now in black bombazine, white muslin cap, and shining silk apron, she presented sorespectable an appearance that her son's face instantly brightened. 

"Come, mother, we are waiting for you, " said he, as she stopped onher way to ask Vine, the _fly girl_, "how she did, and if it wasn'thard work to swing them feathers. "

Not being very bright, Vine replied with a grim, "Dun know, miss. "

Taking her seat next to her son, Mrs. Nichols said when offered aplate of soup, "I don't often eat broth, besides that, I ain't muchhungry, as I've just been takin' a bite with _Miss Atherton_?"

"With whom?" asked Mr. Livingstone, John Jr. , Carrie, and Anna, inthe same breath. 

"With Miss Polly Atherton, that nice old colored lady in thekitchen, " said Mrs. Nichols. 

The scowl on Mrs. Livingstone's face darkened visibly, while herhusband, thinking it time to speak, said, "It is my wish, mother, that you keep away from the kitchen. It does the negroes no good tobe meddled with, and besides that, when you are hungry the servantswill take you something. "

"Accustomed to eat in the kitchen, probably, " muttered Carrie, withall the air of a young lady of twenty. 

"Hold on to your nose, Cad, " whispered John Jr. , thereby attractinghis sister's attention to himself. 

By this time the soup was removed, and a fine large turkey appeared. 

"What a noble great feller. Gobbler, ain't it?" asked Mrs. Nichols, touching the turkey with the knife. 

John Jr. , roared, and was ordered from the table by his father, while'Lena, who stepped on her grandmother's toes to keep her fromtalking, was told by that lady "to keep her feet still. " Along withthe desert came ice-cream, which Mrs. Nichols had never beforetasted, and now fancying that she was dreadfully burned, she quicklydeposited her first mouthful upon her plate. 

"What's the matter, grandma? Can't you eat it?" asked Anna. 

"Yes, I kin eat it, but I don't hanker arter it, " answered hergrandmother, pushing the plate aside. 

Dinner being over, Mrs. Nichols returned to her room, but soongrowing weary, she started out to view the premises. Coming suddenlyupon a group of young negroes, she discovered her bellows, the waterdripping from the nose, while a little farther on she espied 'Lena'sbonnet, which the negroes had at last succeeded in catching, andwhich, wet as it was, now adorned the head of Thomas Jefferson! In atrice the old lady's principles were forgotten, and she cuffed thenegroes with a right good will, hitting Jeff, the hardest, and, as amatter of course, making him yell the loudest. Out came Aunt Milly, scolding and muttering about "white folks tendin' to thar ownbusiness, " and reversing her decision with regard to Mrs. Nichols'position in the next world. Cuff, the watch-dog, whose kennell wasclose by, set up a tremendous howling, while John Jr. , always onhand, danced a jig to the sound of the direful music. 

"For heaven's sake, husband, go out and see what's the matter, " saidMrs. Livingstone, slightly alarmed at the unusual noise. 

John complied, and reached the spot just in time to catch a glimpseof John Jr. 's heels as he gave the finishing touch to his exploit, while Mrs. Nichols, highly incensed, marched from the field of battlewith the bonnet and bellows, thinking "if them niggers was only her'nthey'd catch it!"

CHAPTER VII. 

MALCOLM EVERETT. 

It would be tiresome both to ourselves and our readers, were we toenumerate the many mortifications which both Mr. And Mrs. Livingstonewere compelled to endure from their mother, who gradually came tounderstand her true position in the family. One by one her ideas ofteaching them economy were given up, as was also all hopes of everbeing at all familiar with her daughter, whom, at her son's request, she had ceased to call "'Tilda. "

"Mebby you want me to say Miss Livingstone, " said she, "but I shan't. I'll call her Miss Nichols, or Matilda, just which she chooses. "

Of course Mrs. Livingstone chose the latter, wincing, though, everytime she heard it. Dreading a scene which he knew was sure to followa disclosure of his engagement with Miss Nancy, Mr. Livingstone hadrequested his mother to keep it from his wife, and she, appreciatinghis motive, promised secrecy, lamenting the while the ill-fortunewhich had prevented Nancy from being her daughter-in-law, anddwelling frequently upon the comfort she should take were Nancy therein Matilda's place. On the whole, however, she was tolerablycontented; the novelty of Kentucky life pleased her, and at last, like most northern people, she fell in with the habits of thosearound her. Still her Massachusetts friends were not forgotten, andmany a letter, wonderful for its composition and orthography, foundits way to Nancy Scovandyke, who wrote in return that "some time orother she should surely visit Kentucky, " asking further if the "bigbugs" didn't prefer eastern teachers for their children, and hintingat her desire to engage in that capacity when she came south!

"Now, that's the very thing, " exclaimed Mrs. Nichols, folding theletter (directed wrong side up) and resuming her knitting. "Nancy'slarnin' is plenty good enough to teach Caroline and Anny, and I meanto speak to John about it right away. "

"I wouldn't do any such thing, " said 'Lena, seeing at a glance howsuch a proposal would be received. 

"Why not?" asked Mrs. Nichols, and 'Lena replied, "I don't thinkNancy would suit Aunt Livingstone at all, and besides that, they'veengaged a teacher, a Mr. Everett, and expect him next week. "

"You don't say so?" returned Mrs. Nichols. "I never hearn a wordon't. Where 'bouts is he from, and how much do they give him a week?"

The latter 'Lena knew nothing about, but she replied that "shebelieved he was from Rockford, a village near Rochester, New York. "

"Why, Nancy Scovandyke's sister lives there. I wouldn't wonder if heknew her. "

"Very likely, " returned Lena, catching her bonnet and hurrying off toride with Captain Atherton and Anna. 

As we have once before observed, Anna was a great favorite with thecaptain, who had petted her until John Jr. Teased her unmercifully, calling him her gray-haired lover, and the like. This made Annaexceedingly sensitive, and now when the captain called for her toride, as he frequently did, she refused to go unless the invitationwas also extended to 'Lena, who in this way got many a pleasant ridearound the country. She was fast learning to like Kentucky, andwould have been very happy had her aunt and Carrie been a little moregracious. But the former seldom spoke to her, and the latter only toridicule something which she said or did. 

Many and amusing were the disputes between the two girls concerningtheir peculiarities of speech, Carrie bidding 'Lena "quit her Yankeehabit of eternally _guessing_, " and 'Lena retorting that "she wouldwhen Carrie stopped her everlasting _reckoning_. " To avoid theremarks of the neighbors, who she knew were watching her narrowly, Mrs. Livingstone had purchased 'Lena two or three dresses, which, though greatly inferior to those worn by Carrie and Anna, were stillfashionably made, and so much improved 'Lena's looks, that hermanners improved, also, for what child does not appear to betteradvantage when conscious of looking well? More than once had heruncle's hand rested for a moment on her brown curls, while histhoughts were traversing the past, and in fancy his fingers wereagain straying among the silken locks now resting in the grave. Itwould seem as if the mother from her coffin was pleading for herchild, for all the better nature of Mr. Livingstone was aroused; andwhen he secured the services of Mr. Everett, who was highlyrecommended both as a scholar and gentleman, he determined that 'Lenashould share the same advantages with his daughters. To this Mrs. Livingstone made no serious objection, for as Mr. Everett would teachin the house, it would not do to debar 'Lena from the privilege ofattending his school; and as the highest position to which she couldaspire was to be governess in some private family, she felt willing, she said, that she should have a chance of acquiring the commonbranches. 

And now Mr. Everett was daily expected. Anna, who had no fondnessfor books, greatly dreaded his arrival, thinking within herself howmany pranks she'd play off upon him, provided 'Lena would lend ahelping hand, which she much doubted. John Jr. , too, who for a time, at least, was to be placed under Mr. Everett's instruction, felt inno wise eager for his arrival, fearing, as he told 'Lena that"between the 'old man' and the tutor, he would be kept a little toostraight for a gentleman of his habits;" and it was with noparticular emotions of pleasure that he and Anna saw the stage stopbefore the gate one pleasant morning toward the middle of November. Running to one of the front windows, Carrie, 'Lena, and Anna watchedtheir new teacher, each after her own fashion commenting upon hisappearance. 

"Ugh, " exclaimed Anna, "what a green, boyish looking thing! I reckonnobody's going to be afraid of him. "

"I say he's real handsome, " said Carrie, who being thirteen years ofage, had already, in her own mind, practiced many a little coquetryupon the stranger. 

"I like him, " was 'Lena's brief remark. 

Mr. Everett was a pale, intellectual looking man, scarcely twentyyears of age, and appearing still younger so that Anna was not whollywrong when she called him boyish. Still there was in his large blackeye a firmness and decision which bespoke the man strong within him, and which put to flight all of Anna's preconceived notions ofrebellion. With the utmost composure he returned Mrs. Livingstone'sgreeting, and the proud lady half bit her lip with vexation as shesaw how little he seemed awed by her presence. 

Malcolm Everett was not one to acknowledge superiority where therewas none, and though ever polite toward Mrs. Livingstone, there wassomething in his manner which forbade her treating him as aught savean equal. He was not to be trampled down, and for once in her lifeMrs. Livingstone had found a person who would neither cringe to hernor flatter. The children were not presented to him until dinnertime, when, with the air of a young desperado, John Jr. Marched intothe dining-room, eying, his teacher askance, calculating hisstrength, and returning his greeting with a simple nod. Mr. Everettscanned him from head to foot, and then turned to Carrie half smilingat the great dignity which she assumed. With 'Lena and Anna heseemed better pleased, holding their hands and smiling down upon themthrough rows of teeth which Anna pronounced the whitest she had everseen. 

Mr. Livingstone was not at home, and when his mother appeared, Mrs. Livingstone did not think proper to introduce her. But if by thisomission she thought to keep the old lady silent, she was mistaken, for the moment Mrs. Nichols was seated, she commenced with, "Yourname is Everett, I b'lieve?"

"Yes, ma'am, " said he, bowing very gracefully toward her. 

"Any kin to the governor that was?"

"No, ma'am, none whatever, " and the white teeth became slightlyvisible for a moment, but soon disappeared. 

"You are from Rockford, 'Lena tells me?"

"Yes, ma'am. Have you friends there?"

"Yes--or that is, Nancy Scovandyke's sister, Betsy Scovandyke thatused to be, lives there. May be you know her. Her name isBacon--Betsy Bacon. She's a widder and keeps boarders. "

"Ah, " said he, the teeth this time becoming wholly visible, "I'veheard of Mrs. Bacon, but have not the honor of her acquaintance. Youare from the east, I perceive. "

"Law, now! how did you know that!" asked Mrs. Nichols, while Mr. Everett answered, "I _guessed_ at it, " with a peculiar emphasis onthe word guessed, which led 'Lena to think he had used it purposelyand not from habit. 

Mr. Everett possessed in a remarkable degree the faculty of makingthose around him both respect and like him, and ere six weeks hadpassed, he had won the love of all his pupils. Even John Jr. Wasgreatly improved, and Carrie seemed suddenly reawakened into a thirstfor knowledge, deeming no task too long, and no amount of study toohard, if it won the commendation of her teacher. 'Lena, whocommitted to memory with great ease, and who consequently did notdeserve so much credit for her always perfect lessons, seldomreceived a word of praise, while poor Anna, notoriously lazy whenbooks were concerned, cried almost every day, because as she said, "Mr. Everett didn't like her as he did the rest, else why did he lookat her so much, watching her all the while, and keeping her afterschool to get her lessons over, when he knew how she hated them. "

Once Mrs. Livingstone ventured to remonstrate, telling him that Annawas very sensitive, and required altogether different treatment fromCarrie. "She thinks you dislike her, " said she, "and while sheretains this impression, she will do nothing as far as learning isconcerned; so if you do not like her, try and make her think you do!"

There was a peculiar look in Mr. Everett's dark eyes as he answered, "You may think it strange, Mrs. Livingstone, but of all my pupils Ilove Anna the best! I know I find more fault with her, and amperhaps more severe with her than with the rest, but it's because Iwould make her what I wish her to be. Pardon me, madam, but Annadoes not possess the same amount of intellect with her cousin orsister, but by proper culture she will make a fine, intelligentwoman. "

Mrs. Livingstone hardly relished being told that one child wasinferior to the other, but she could not well help herself--Mr. Everett would say what he pleased--and thus the conference ended. From that time Mr. Everett was exceedingly kind to Anna, wiping awaythe tears which invariably came when told that she must stay with himin the school-room after the rest were gone; then, instead of seatinghimself in rigid silence at a distance until her task was learned, hewould sit by her side, occasionally smoothing her long curls andspeaking encouragingly to her as she pored over some hard rule ofgrammar, or puzzled her brains with some difficult problem inColburn. Erelong the result of all this became manifest. Anna grewfonder of her books, more ready to learn, and--more willing to bekept after school!

Ah, little did Mrs. Livingstone think what she was doing when shebade young Malcolm Everett make her warm-hearted, impulsive daughter_think_ he liked her!

CHAPTER VIII. 

SCHEMING. 

"Mother, where's 'Lena's dress? Hasn't she got any?" asked Anna, onemorning, about two weeks before Christmas, as she bent over apromiscuous pile of merinoes, delaines, and plaid silks, her own andCarrie's dresses for the coming holidays. "Say, mother, didn't youbuy 'Lena any?"

Thus interrogated, Mrs. Livingstone replied, "I wonder if you thinkI'm made of money! 'Lena is indebted to me now for more than she canever pay. As long as I give her a home and am at so much expense ineducating her, she of course can't expect me to dress her as I doyou. There's Carrie's brown delaine and your blue one, which Iintend to have made over for her, and she ought to be satisfied withthat, for they are much better than anything she had when she camehere. "

And the lady glanced toward the spot where 'Lena sat, admiring thenew things, in which she had no share, and longing to ask thequestion which Anna had asked for her, and which had now beenanswered. John Jr. , who was present, and who knew that Mr. Everetthad been engaged to teach in the family long before it was known that'Lena was coming, now said to his cousin, who arose to leave, "Yes, 'Lena, mother's a model of generosity, and you'll never be able torepay her for her kindness in allowing you to wear the girls' oldduds, which would otherwise be given to the blacks, and in permittingyou to recite to Mr. Everett, who, of course, was hired on youraccount. "

The slamming together of the door as 'Lena left the room brought theyoung gentleman's remarks to a close, and wishing to escape thelecture which he saw was preparing for him, he, too, made his exit. 

Christmas was coming, and with it Durward Bellmont, and about hiscoming Mrs. Livingstone felt some little anxiety. Always scheming, and always looking ahead, she was expecting great results from thisvisit. Durward was not only immensely wealthy, but was alsodescended on his father's side from one of England's noblemen. Altogether he was, she thought, a "decided catch, " and though he wasnow only sixteen, while Carrie was but thirteen, lifelong impressionshad been made at even an earlier period, and Mrs. Livingstoneresolved that her pretty daughter should at least have all theadvantages of dress with which to set off her charms. ConcerningAnna's appearance she cared less, for she had but little hope of her, unless, indeed--but 'twas too soon to think of that--she would wait, and perhaps in good time 't would all come round naturally and as amatter of course. So she encouraged her daughter's intimacy withCaptain Atherton, who, until Malcolm Everett appeared, was in Anna'sestimation the best man living. Now, however, she made an exceptionin favor of her teacher, "who, " as she told the captain, "neitherwore false teeth, nor kept in his pocket a pair of specks, to beslyly used when he fancied no one saw him. "

Captain Atherton coughed, colored, laughed, and saying that "Mr. Everett was a mash kind of a boy, " swore eternal enmity toward him, and under the mask of friendship--watched! Eleven years before, whenAnna was a baby, Mrs. Livingstone had playfully told the captain, whowas one day deploring his want of a wife, that if he would wait heshould have her daughter. To this he agreed, and the circumstance, trivial as it was, made a more than ordinary impression upon hismind; and though he as yet had no definite idea that the promisewould ever be fulfilled, the little girl was to him an object ofuncommon interest. Mrs. Livingstone knew this, and whenever Anna'sfuture prospects were the subject of her meditations, she generallyfell back upon that fact as an item not to be despised. 

Now, however, her thoughts were turned into another and widelydifferent channel. Christmas week was to be spent by DurwardBellmont partly at Captain Atherton's and partly at her own house, and as Mrs. Livingstone was not ignorant of the effect a becomingdress has upon a pretty face, she determined that Carrie should, atleast, have that advantage. Anna, too, was to fare like her sister, while no thought was bestowed upon poor 'Lena's wardrobe, until herhusband, who accompanied her to Frankfort, suggested that a certainpattern, which he fancied would be becoming to 'Lena should bepurchased. 

With an angry scowl, Mrs. Livingstone muttered something about"spending so much money for other folks' young ones. " Thenremembering the old delaines, and knowing by the tone of herhusband's voice that he was in earnest, she quickly rejoined, "Why, 'Lena's got two new dresses at home. "

Never doubting his wife's word, Mr. Livingstone was satisfied, andnothing more was said upon the subject. Business of importance madeit necessary for him to go for a few weeks to New Orleans, and he wasnow on his way thither, his wife having accompanied him as far asFrankfort, where he took the boat, while she returned home. When'Lena left the room after learning that she had no part in the massof Christmas finery, she repaired to the arbor bridge, where she hadwept so bitterly on the first day of her arrival, and which was nowher favorite resort. For a time she sat watching the leaping waters, swollen by the winter rains, and wondering if it were not possiblethat they started at first from the pebbly spring which gushed socool and clear from the mountain-side near her old New England home. This reminded her of where and what she was now--a dependent on thebounty of those who wished her away, and who almost every day of herlife made her feel it so keenly, too. Not one among them loved herexcept Anna, and would not her affection change as they grew older?Then her thoughts took another direction. 

Durward Bellmont was coming--but did she wish to see him? Could shebear the sneering remarks which she knew Carrie would make concerningherself? And how would he be affected by them? Would he ask her ofher father? and if so, what had she to say?

Many a time had she tried to penetrate the dark mystery of her birth, but her grandmother was wholly non-committal. Once, too, when heruncle seemed kinder than usual, she had ventured to ask him of herfather, and with a frown he had replied, that "the least she knew ofhim the better!" Still 'Lena felt sure that he was a good man, andthat some time or other she would find him. 

All day long the clouds had been threatening rain, which began tofall soon after 'Lena entered the arbor, but so absorbed was she inher own thoughts, that she did not observe it until her clothes wereperfectly dampened; then starting up, she repaired to the house. Forseveral days she had not been well, and this exposure brought on asevere cold, which confined her to her room for nearly two weeks. Meantime the dress-making process went on, Anna keeping 'Lenaconstantly apprised of its progress, and occasionally wearing in somearticle for her inspection. This reminded 'Lena of her own wardrobe, and knowing that it would not be attended to while she was sick, shemade such haste to be well, that on Thursday at tea-time she took heraccustomed seat at the table. After supper she lingered awhile inthe parlor, hoping something would be said, but she waited in vain, and was about leaving, when a few words spoken by Carrie in anadjoining room caught her ear and arrested her attention. 

They were--"And so 'Lena came down to-night. I dare say she thinksyou'll set Miss Simpson at work upon my old delaine. "

"Perhaps so, " returned Mrs. Livingstone, "but I don't see how MissSimpson can do it, unless you put off having that silk apronembroidered. "

"I shan't do any such thing, " said Carrie, glad of an excuse to keep'Lena out of the way. "What matter is it if she don't come down whenthe company are here? I'd rather she wouldn't, for she's so greenand awkward, and Durward is so fastidious in such matters, that I'drather he wouldn't know she's a relative of ours! I know he'd tellhis mother, and they say she is very particular about his associates. "

'Lena's first impulse was to defy her cousin to her face--to tell hershe had seen Durward Bellmont, and that he didn't laugh at hereither. But her next thought was calmer and more rational. Possiblyunder Carrie's influence he might make fun of her, and resolving onno condition whatever to make herself visible while he was in thehouse, she returned to her room, and throwing herself upon the bed, wept until she fell asleep. 

"When is Miss Simpson going to fix 'Lena's dress?" asked Anna, as dayafter day passed, and nothing was said of the brown delaine. 

For an instant Miss Simpson's nimble fingers were still, as sheawaited the answer to a question which had occurred to her severaltimes. She was a kind-hearted, intelligent girl, find at a glancehad seen how matters stood. She, too, was an orphan, and hersympathies were all enlisted in behalf of the neglected 'Lena. Shehad heard from Anna of the brown delaine, and in her own mind she haddetermined that it should be fitted with the utmost taste of whichshe was capable. 

Her speculations, however, were brought to a close by Mrs. Livingstone's saying in reply to Anna, that "'Lena seemed so whollyuninterested, and cared so little about seeing the company, she haddecided not to have the dress fixed until after Christmas week. "

The fiery expression of two large, glittering eyes, which at thatmoment peered in at the door, convinced Miss Simpson that heremployer had hardly told the truth, and she secretly determined that'Lena should have the dress whether she would or not. Accordingly, the next time she and Anna were alone, she asked for the delaine, entrusting her secret to Anna, who, thinking no harm, promised tokeep it from her mother. But to get 'Lena fitted was a moredifficult matter. Her spirit was roused, and for a time she resistedtheir combined efforts. At last, however, she yielded, and byworking late at night in her own room, Miss Simpson managed tofinished the dress, in which 'Lena really looked better than dideither of her cousins in their garments of far richer materials. Still she was resolved not to go down, and Anna, fearing what hermother might say, dared not urge her very strongly hoping, though, that "something would turn up. "

 * * * * * *

Durward Bellmont, Nellie Douglass, and Mabel Ross had arrived atCaptain Atherton's. Mrs. Livingstone and her daughters had calledupon them, inviting them to spend a few days at Maple Grove, wherethey were to meet some other young people "selected from thewealthiest families in the neighborhood, " Mrs. Livingstone said, atthe same time patting the sallow cheek of Mabel, whose reputedhundred thousand she intended should one day increase the importanceof her own family. 

The invitation was accepted--the day had arrived, the guests weremomentarily expected, and Carrie, before the long mirror, wasadmiring herself, alternately frowning upon John Jr. , who wasmimicking her "airs, " and scolding Anna for fretting because 'Lenacould not be induced to join them. Finding that her niece wasresolved not to appear, Mrs. Livingstone, for looks' sake, hadchanged her tactics, saying, "'Lena could come down if she chose--shewas sure there was nothing to prevent. "

Knowing this, Anna had exhausted all her powers of eloquence upon hercousin. But she still remained inexorable, greatly to theastonishment of her grandmother who for several days had beensuffering from a rheumatic affection, notwithstanding which she"meant to hobble down if possible, for" said she, "I want to see thisDurward Bellmont. Matilda says he's got _Noble_ blood in him. Iused to know a family of Nobles in Massachusetts, and I think like asnot he's some kin!"

Carrie, to whom this remark was made, communicated it to her mother, who forthwith repaired to Mrs. Nichols' room, telling her "that 'twasa child's party, " and hinting pretty strongly that she was neitherwanted nor expected in the parlor, and would confer a great favor bykeeping aloof. 

"Wall, wall, " said Mrs. Nichols, who had learned to dread herdaughter's displeasure, "I'd as lief stay up here as not, but I dowant 'Lena to jine 'em. She's young and would enjoy it. "

Without a word of answer Mrs. Livingstone walked away, leaving 'Lenamore determined than ever not to go down. When the evening at lastarrived, Anna insisted so strongly upon her wearing the delaine, forfear of what might happen, that 'Lena consented, curling her hairwith great care, and feeling a momentary thrill of pride as she sawhow well she looked. 

"When we get nicely to enjoying ourselves, " said Anna, "you come downand look through the glass door, for I do want you to see Durward, he's so handsome--but there's the carriage--I must go;" and away ranAnna down the stairs, while 'Lena flew to one of the front windows tosee the company as they rode up. 

First came Captain Atherton's carriage, and in it the captain and hismaiden sister, together with a pale, sickly-looking girl, whom 'Lenaknew to be Mabel Ross. Behind them rode Durward Bellmont, and at hisside, on a spirited little pony was another girl, thirteen orfourteen years of age, but in her long riding-dress looking older, because taller. 'Lena readily guessed that this was Nellie Douglass, and at a glance she recognized the Durward of the cars--grownhandsomer and taller since then, she thought. With a nimble bound heleaped from his saddle, kissing his hand to Carrie, who with hersunniest smile ran past him to welcome Nellie. A pang, not ofjealousy, but of an undefined something, shot through 'Lena's heart, and dropping the heavy curtain, she turned away, while the tearsgathered thickly in her large brown eyes. 

"Where's 'Lena?" asked Captain Atherton, of Anna, warming his redfingers before the blazing grate, and looking round upon the group ofgirls gathered near. Glancing at her mother, Anna replied, "She saysshe don't want to come down. "

"Bashful, " returned the captain, while Nellie Douglass asked, "who'Lena was, " at the same time returning the _pinch_ which John Jr. Had slyly given her as a mode of showing his preference, for Nellie_was_ his favorite. 

Fearful of Anna's reply, Mrs. Livingstone answered, carelessly, "She's the child of one of Mr. Livingstone's poor relations, andwe've taken her awhile out of charity. "

At any other time John Jr. Would doubtless have questioned hismother's word, but now so engrossed was he with the merry, hoydenishNellie, that he scarcely heard her remark, or noticed the absence of'Lena. With the exception of his cousin, Nellie was the only girlwhom John Jr. Could endure--"the rest, " he said, "were so stuck upand affected. "

For Mabel Ross, he seemed to have a particular aversion. Not becauseshe was so very disagreeable, but because his mother continuallyreminded him of what she hoped would one day be, "and this, " he said, "was enough to make a 'feller' hate a girl. " So without consideringthat Mabel was not to blame, he ridiculed her unmercifully, callingher "a bundle of medicine, " and making fun of her thin, sallow face, which really appeared to great disadvantage when contrasted withNellie's bright eyes and round, rosy cheeks. 

When the guests were all assembled, Carrie, not knowing whetherDurward Bellmont would relish plays, seated herself demurely upon thesofa, prepared to act the dignified young lady, or any othercharacter she might think necessary. 

"Get up, Cad, " said John Jr. "Nobody's going to act like they wereat a funeral; get up, and let's play something. "

As the rest seemed to be similarly inclined, Carrie arose, anderelong the joyous shouts reached 'Lena, making her half wish thatshe, too, was there. Remembering Anna's suggestion of lookingthrough the glass door she stole softly down the stairs, andstationing herself behind the door, looked in on the scene. Mr. Everett, usually so dignified, had joined in the game, claiming"forfeits" from Anna more frequently than was considered at allnecessary by the captain, who for a time looked jealously on, andthen declaring himself as young as any of them, joined them with aright good will. 

"Blind man's buff, " was next proposed, and 'Lena's heart leaped up, for that was her favorite game. John Jr. Was first blinded, but hecaught them so easily that all declared he could see, and loud werethe calls for Durward to take his place. This he willingly did, andwhether he could see or not, he suffered them to pass directly underhis hands, thus giving entire satisfaction. On account of the heatof the rooms, Anna, on passing the glass door, threw it open, and thenext time Durward came round he marched directly into the hall, seizing 'Lena, who was trying to hide. 

Feeling her long curls, he exclaimed, "Anna, you are caught. "

"No, I ain't Anna; let me go, " said 'Lena, struggling to escape. 

This brought all the girls to the spot, while Durward, snatching themuffler from his eyes, looked down with astonishment upon thetrembling 'Lena, who would have escaped had she not been so securelyhemmed in. 

"Ain't you ashamed, 'Lena, to be peeking?" asked Carrie, whileDurward repeated--"'_Lena_! '_Lena_! I've seen her before in thecars between Springfield and Albany; but how came she here?"

"She lives here--she's our cousin, " said Anna, notwithstanding thetwitch given to her sleeve by Carrie, who did not care to have therelationship exposed. 

"Your cousin, " said Durward, "and where's the old lady who was withher?"

"The one she called _granny_?" asked John Jr. , on purpose to rouse uphis fiery little cousin. 

"No, I don't call her _granny_, neither--I've quit it, " said 'Lena, angrily, adding, as a sly hit at Kentucky talk, "she's up _stars_, sick with the rheumatism. "

"Good, " said Durward, "but why are you not down here with us?"

"I didn't want to come, " was her reply; and Durward, leading her intothe parlor, continued, "but now that you are here, you must stay. "

"Pretty, isn't she, " said Nellie, as the full blaze of the chandelierfell upon 'Lena. 

"Rath-er, " was Carrie's hesitating reply. 

She felt annoyed that 'Lena should be in the parlor, and provokedthat Durward should notice her in any way, and at the firstopportunity she told him "how much she both troubled and mortifiedthem, by her vulgarity and obstinacy, " adding that "she had a mostviolent temper. " From Nellie she had learned that Durwardparticularly disliked passionate girls, and for this reason shestrove to give him the impression that 'Lena was such an one. Onceor twice she fancied him half inclined to disbelieve her, as he sawhow readily 'Lena joined in their amusements, and how good-humoredlyshe bore John Jr. 's teasing, and then she hoped something would occurto prove her words true. Her wish was gratified. 

The next day was dark and stormy, confining the young people to thehouse. About ten o'clock the negro who had been to the post-officereturned, bringing letters for the family, among which was one for'Lena, so curious in its shape and superscription, that even thenegro grinned as he handed it out. 'Lena was not then present, andCarrie, taking the letter, exclaimed, "Now if this isn't the lastspecimen from Yankeedom. Just listen, --" and she spelled out thedirection--"_To Mis HELL-ENY RIVERS, state of kentucky, county ofwoodford, Dorsey post offis, care of Mis nichals_. "

Unobserved by any one, 'Lena had entered the parlor in time to hearevery word, and when Carrie, chancing to espy her, held out theletter, saying, "Here, _Helleny_, I _guess_ this came from downeast, " she darted forward, and striking the letter from Carrie'shands stamped upon it with her foot, declaring "she'd never open itin the world, " and saying "they might do what they pleased with itfor all of her. "

"Read it--may we read it?" eagerly asked Carrie, delighted to see'Lena doing such justice to her reputation. 

"Yes, read it!" almost screamed 'Lena, and before any one couldinterpose a word, Carrie had broken the seal and commenced reading, announcing, first, that it came from "Joel Slocum!" It was asfollows:

"Dear Helleny, mebby you'll wonder when you see a letter from me, butI'll be hanged if I can help 'ritin', I am so confounded lonesome nowyou are gone, that I dun know nothing what to do with myself. So Iset on the great rock where the saxefax grows; and think, and thinktill it seems 's ef my head would bust open. Wall, how do you gitalong down amongst them heathenish Kentucks & niggers? I s'posethere ain't no great difference between 'em, is there? When I git alittle more larnin', I b'lieve I'll come down there to keep school. O, I forgot to tell you that our old line back cow has got acalf--the prettiest little critter--Dad has gin her to me, and I callher Helleny, I do, I swow! And when she capers round she makes methink of the way you danced 'High putty Martin' the time you stuck asliver in your heel--"

Up to this point 'Lena had stood immovable, amid the loud shouts ofher companions, but the fire of a hundred volcanoes burned within andflashed from her eyes. And now springing forward, she caught theletter from Carrie's hand, and inflicting a long scratch upon herforehead, fled from the room. Had not Durward Bellmont been present, Carrie would have flown after her cousin, to avenge the insult, andeven now she was for a moment thrown off her guard, and startingforward, exclaimed, "the tigress!"

Drawing his fine cambric handkerchief from his pocket, Durward gentlywiped the blood from her white brow, saying "Never mind. It is not adeep scratch. "

"I wish 'twas deeper, " muttered John Jr. "You'd no business to serveher so mean. "

An angry retort rose to Carrie's lips, but, just in time to preventits utterance, Durward also spoke, saying, "It was too bad to teaseher so, but we were all more or less to blame, and I'm not sure butwe ought to apologize. "

Carrie felt that she would die, almost, before she'd apologize tosuch as 'Lena, and still she thought it might be well enough to giveDurward the impression that she was doing, her best to make amendsfor her fault. Accordingly, the next time her cousin appeared in theparlor she was all smiles and affability, talking a great deal to'Lena, who returned very short but civil answers, while her face worea look which Durward construed into defiance and hatred of everybodyand everything. 

"Too passionate, " thought he, turning from her to Carrie, whosevoice, modulated to its softest tones, rang out clear and musical, asshe sported and laughed with her moody cousin, appearing the veryessence of sweetness and amiability!

Pity he could not have known how bitterly 'Lena had wept over herhasty action--not because _he_ witnessed it, but because she knew itwas wrong! Pity he could not have read the tear-blotted note, whichshe laid on Carrie's work-box, and in which was written, "I am sorry, Carrie, that I hurt you so. I didn't know what I was about, but Iwill try and not get so angry again. "

Pity, too, that he did not see the look of contempt with which Carrieperused this note; and when the two girls accidentally met in theupper hall, and 'Lena laid her hand gently on Carrie's arm, it is athousand pities he was not present to see how fiercely she wasrepulsed, Carrie exclaiming, "Get out of my sight! _I hate you_, andso do all of them downstairs, Durward in particular. "

Had he known all this he would have thought differently of 'Lena, who, feeling that she was not wanted in the parlor, kept herselfentirely aloof, never again appearing during the remainder of hisstay. Once Durward asked for her, and half laughingly Carriereplied, that "she had not yet recovered from her pouting fit. "Could he have known her real occupation, he might have changed hismind again. The stormy weather had so increased Mrs. Nichols'rheumatic complaint, that now, perfectly crippled, she lay ashelpless as a child, carefully nursed by 'Lena and old Aunt Polly, who, spite of her own infirmities, had hobbled in to wait upon herfriend. Never but once did Mrs. Livingstone go near her mother'ssick-room--"the smell of herbs made her faint, " she said! But to doher justice, we must say that she gave Polly unqualified permissionto order anything she pleased for the invalid. 

Toward the close of the third day, the company left. NellieDouglass, who really liked 'Lena, and wished to bid her good-bye, whispered to John Jr. , asking him to show her the way to his cousin'sroom. No one except members of the family had ever been in Mrs. Nichols' apartment, and for a moment John Jr. Hesitated, knowing wellthat Nellie could not fail to observe the contrast it presented tothe other richly-furnished chambers. 

"They ought to be mortified--it'll serve 'em right, " he thought, atlast, and motioning Nellie to fallow him, he silently led the way tohis grandmother's room, where their knock was answered by AuntPolly's gruff voice, which bade them "come in. "

They obeyed, but Nellie started back when she saw how greatlyinferior was this room to the others around it. In an instant hereye took in everything, and she readily comprehended the whole. 

"It isn't my doings, by a jug-full!" whispered John Jr. , himselfreddening as he noted the different articles of furniture which hadnever before seemed so meager and poor. 

On the humble bed, in a half-upright position, lay Mrs. Nichols, white as the snowy cap-border which shaded her face. Behind her sat'Lena, supporting her head, and when Nellie entered, she wascarefully pushing back the few gray locks which had fallen over theinvalid's forehead, her own bright curls mingling with them, andresting, some on her neck, and some on her grandmother's shoulder. Adeep flush dyed her cheeks when she saw Nellie, who thought she hadnever looked upon a sight more beautiful. 

"I did not know your grandmother was ill, " said she, coming forwardand gently touching the swollen hand which lay outside thecounterpane. 

Mrs. Nichols was not too ill to talk, and forthwith she commenced ahistory of her malady, beginning at the time she first had it when'Lena's mother was a year and a day old, frequently quoting NancyScovandyke, and highly entertaining Nellie, who listened until warnedby the sound of the carriage, as it came round to the door, that shemust go. 

"We are going back to Uncle Atherton's, " said she, "but I wanted tobid you good-bye, and ask you to visit me in Frankfort with yourcousins. Will you do so?"

This was wholly unexpected to 'Lena, who, without replying, burstinfo tears. Nellie hardly knew what to do. She seldom criedherself--she did not like to see others cry--and still she did notblame 'Lena, for she felt that she could not help it. At last, taking her hand, she bade her farewell, asking if she should notcarry a good-bye to the others. 

"Yes, to Mabel, " said 'Lena. 

"And not Durward?" asked Nellie. 

With something of her old spirit 'Lena answered, "No, he hatesme--Carrie says so. "

"Cad's a fool, " muttered John Jr. , while Nellie rejoined, "Durwardnever hated anybody, and even if he did, he would not say so--I meanto tell him;" and with another good-bye she was gone. 

On the stairs she met Durward, who was looking for her, and askedwhere she had been. 

"To bid 'Lena good-bye; don't you want to go too?" said Nellie. 

"Why, yes, if you are sure she won't scratch my eyes out, " hereturned, gayly, following his cousin. 

"I reckon I'd better tell 'Lena to come out into the hall--she maynot want you in there, " said John Jr. , and hastening forward he toldhis cousin what was wanted. 

Oh, how 'Lena longed to go, but pride, and the remembrance ofCarrie's words, prevented her, and coldly answering, "No, I don'twish to see him, " she turned away to hide the tears and pain whichthose words had cost her. 

This visit to Grandma Nichols' room was productive of some good, forJohn Jr. , did not fail of repeating to his mother the impressionwhich he saw was made on Nellie's mind, adding, that "though Durwarddid not venture in, Nellie would of course tell him all about it. And then, " said he, "I wouldn't give much for his opinion of yourtreatment of your mother. "

Angry, because she felt the truth of what her son said, Mrs. Livingstone demanded "what he'd have her do. "

"Do?" he repeated, "give grandmother a decent room, or else fix thatone up, so it won't look like the old scratch had been having acotillon there. Paper and paint it, and make it look decent. "

Upon this last piece of advice Mrs. Livingstone resolved to act, forrecently several vague rumors had reached her ear, touching herneglect of her mother-in-law, and she began herself to think it justpossible that a little of her money would be well expended in addingto the comfort of her husband's mother. Accordingly, as soon as Mrs. Nichols was able to sit up, her room underwent a thorough renovation, and though no great amount of money was expended upon it, it wasfitted up with so much taste that the poor old lady, whom John Jr. , 'Lena and Anna, had adroitly kept out of the way until her room wasfinished, actually burst into tears when first ushered into herlight, airy apartment, in which everything looked so cheerful andpleasant. 

"'Tilda has now and then a good streak, " said she, while Aunt Milly, who had taken a great deal of interest in the repairing of the room, felt inclined to change her favorite theory with regard to hermistress' future condition. 

CHAPTER IX. 

FIVE YEARS LATER. 

And in the fair city of elms we again open the scene. It wascommencement at Yale, and the crowd which filled the old Centerchurch were listening breathlessly to the tide of eloquence pouredforth by the young valedictorian. 

Durward Bellmont, first in his studies, first in his class, and firstin the esteem of his fellow-students, had been unanimously chosen tothat post of honor, and as the gathered multitude hung upon his wordsand gazed upon his manly beauty, they felt mat a better choice couldnot well have been made. At the right of the platform sat a group ofladies, friends, it would seem, of the speaker, for ever and anon hiseyes turned in that direction, and as if each glance incited him tofresh efforts, his eloquence increased, until at last no sound savethat of his deep-toned voice was heard, so rapt was every one in thewords of the young orator. But when his speech was ended, therearose deafening shouts of applause, while bouquets fell in perfectshowers at his feet. Among them was one smaller and more elegantthan the rest, and as if it were more precious, too, it was the firstwhich Durward took from the floor. 

"See, Carrie, he gives you the preference, " whispered one of theyoung ladies on the right, and Carrie Livingstone for she it was, felt a thrill of gratified pride, when she saw how carefully heguarded the bouquet, which during all the exercises she had made herespecial care, calling attention to it in so many different ways thathardly any one who saw it in Durward's possession, could fail ofknowing from what source it same. 

But then everybody said they were engaged--so what did it matter?Everybody but John Jr. , who was John Jr. Still, and who while openlydenying the engagement, teasingly hinted "that 'twas no fault ofCad's. "

For the last three years, Carrie, Nellie, Mabel, and Anna had beeninmates of the seminary in New Haven, and as they were now consideredsufficiently accomplished to enter at once upon all the gayeties offashionable life, John Jr. Had come on "to see the elephant, " as hesaid, and to accompany them home. Carrie had fulfilled the promiseof her girlhood, and even her brother acknowledged that she washandsome in spite of her _nose_, which like everybody's else, stillcontinued to be the most prominent feature of her face. She wasproud, too, as well as beautiful, and throughout the city she wasknown as the "haughty southern belle, " admired by some and dislikedby many. Among the students she was not half so popular as herunpretending sister, whose laughing blue eyes and sunny brown hairwere often toasted, together with the classical brow and dignifiedbearing of Nellie Douglass, who had lost some of the hoydenishpropensities of her girlhood, and who was now a graceful, elegantcreature just merging into nineteen--the pride of her widowed father, and the idol still of John Jr. , whose boyish preference had ripenedinto a kind of love such as only he could feel. 

With poor Mabel Ross it had fared worse, her plain face and dumpylittle figure never receiving the least attention except from DurwardBellmont, who pitying her lonely condition, frequently left morecongenial society for the sake of entertaining her. Of any one elseCarrie would have been jealous, but feeling sure that Mabel had noattraction save her wealth, and knowing that Durward did not care forthat, she occasionally suffered him to leave her side, always feelingamply repaid by the evident reluctance with which he left her societyfor that of Mabel's. 

When ill-naturedly rallied by his companions upon his preference forCarrie, Durward would sometimes laughingly refer them to the oldworn-out story of the fox and the grapes, for to scarcely any onesave himself did Carrie think it worth her while to be even gracious. This conduct was entirely at variance with her natural disposition, for she was fond of admiration, come from what source it might, andshe would never have been so cold and distant to all save Durward, had she not once heard him say that "he heartily despised a _flirt_;and that no young lady could at all interest him if he suspected herof being a coquette. "

This, then, was the secret of her reserve. She was resolved uponwinning Durward Bellmont, deeming no sacrifice too great if in theend it secured the prize. It is true there was one sophomore, aperfumed, brainless fop, from Rockford, N. Y. , who, next to Durward, was apparently most in favor, but the idea of her entertaining even ashadow of a liking for Tom Lakin, was too ludicrous to be harboredfor a moment, so his attentions went for naught, public opinionuniting in giving her to Mr. Bellmont. 

With the lapse of years, Anna, too, had greatly improved. Theextreme delicacy of her figure was gone, and though her complexionwas as white and pure as marble, it denoted perfect health. WithJohn Jr. She was still the favorite sister, the one whom he loved thebest. "Carrie was too stiff and proud, " he said, and though when hemet her in New Haven, after a year's absence, his greeting was kindand brotherly, he soon turned from her to Anna and Nellie, utterlyneglecting Mabel, who turned away to her chamber to cry, because noone cared for her. 

Frequently had his mother reminded him of the importance of securinga wealthy bride, always finishing her discourse by speaking of Mr. Douglass' small income, and enlarging upon the immense wealth ofMabel Ross, whose very name had become disagreeable to John Jr. Atone time his father had hoped he, too, would enter college, but theyoung man derided the idea of his ever making a scholar, saying, however, more in sport than in earnest, that "he was willing to entera store, or learn a _trade_, so that in case he was ever obliged toearn his own living, he would have some means of doing it;" but tothis his mother would not listen. He was her "darling boy, " and "hishands, soft and white as those of a girl, should never becomehardened and embrowned by labor!" So, while his sisters were away atschool, he was at home, hunting, fishing, riding, teasing hisgrandmother, tormenting the servants, and shocking his mother bythreatening to make love to his cousin 'Lena, to whom he was at oncea pest and a comfort, and who now claims a share of our attention. 

When it was decided to send Carrie and Anna to New Haven, Mr. Livingstone proposed that 'Lena should also accompany them, but thisplan Mrs. Livingstone opposed with all her force, declaring that_her_ money should never be spent in educating the "beggarlyrelatives" of her husband, who in this, as in numerous other matters, was forced to yield the point. As Mr. Everett's services were now nolonger needed, he accepted the offer of a situation in the family ofGeneral Fontaine, a high-bred, southern gentleman, whose plantationwas distant but half a mile from "Maple Grove;" and as he theretaught a regular school, having under his charge several of thedaughters of the neighboring planters, it was decided that 'Lena alsoshould continue under his instruction. 

Thus while Carrie and Anna were going through the daily routine of afashionable boarding-school, 'Lena was storing her mind with usefulknowledge, and though her accomplishments were not quite so showy asthose of her cousins, they had in them the ring of the pure metal. Although her charms were as yet but partially developed, she was acreature of rare loveliness, and many who saw her for the first time, marveled that aught so beautiful could be real. She had never seenDurward Bellmont since that remarkable Christmas week, but many atime had her cheeks flushed with a feeling which she could notdefine, as she read Anna's accounts of the flattering attentionswhich he paid to Carrie, who, when at home, still treated her withhaughty contempt or cool indifference. 

But for this she did not care. She knew she was loved by Anna, andliked by John Jr. , and she hoped--nay, half believed--that she wasnot wholly indifferent to her uncle, who, while he seldom made anyshow of his affection, still in his heart admired and felt proud ofher. With his wife it was different. She hated 'Lena--hated herbecause she was beautiful and talented, and because in her presenceCarrie and Anna were ever in the shade. Still her niece was toogeneral a favorite in the neighborhood to allow of open hostility athome, and so the proud woman ground together her glitteringteeth--_and waited_!

Among the many who admired 'Lena, there was no one who gave her suchfull and unbounded homage as did her grandmother, whose life at MapleGrove had been one of shadow, seldom mingled with sunshine. Gradually had she learned the estimation in which she was held by herson's wife, and she felt how bitter it was to eat the bread ofdependence. As far as she was able, 'Lena shielded her from thesneers of her aunt, who thinking she had done all that was requiredof her when she fixed their room, would for days and even weeksappear utterly oblivious of their presence, or frown darkly wheneverchance threw them in her way. She had raised no objection to 'Lena'scontinuing a pupil of Mr. Everett, who, she hoped, would not proveindifferent to her charms, fancying that in this way she would soonerbe rid of one whom she feared as a rival of her daughters. 

But she was mistaken; for much as Malcolm Everett might admire 'Lena, another image than hers was enshrined in his heart, and mostcarefully guarded was the little golden curl, cut in seeming sportfrom the head it once adorned, and, now treasured as a sacred mementoof the past. Believing that it would be so because she wished it tobe so, Mrs. Livingstone had more than once whispered to her femalefriends her surmises that Malcolm Everett would marry 'Lena, and atthe time of which we are speaking, it was pretty generally understoodthat a strong liking, at least, if not an engagement, existed betweenthem. 

Old Captain Atherton, grown more smooth and portly, rubbed his fathands complacently, and while applying Twigg's Preparation to hishair, congratulated himself that the only rival he had ever fearedwas now out of his way. Thinking, too, that 'Lena had conferred agreat favor upon himself by taking Mr. Everett from off his mind, became exceedingly polite to her, making her little presents andfrequently asking her to ride. Whenever these invitations wereaccepted, they were sure to be followed by a ludicrous description toAnna, who laughed merrily over her cousin's letters, declaringherself half jealous of her "gray-haired lover, " as she termed thecaptain. 

All such communications were eagerly seized by Carrie, and fullydiscussed in the presence of Durward, who gradually received theimpression that 'Lena was a flirt, a species of womankind which heheld in great abhorrence. Just before he left New Haven, he receiveda letter from his stepfather, requesting him to stop for a day or twoat Captain Atherton's, where he would join him, as he wished to lookat a country-seat near Mr. Livingstone's, which was now for sale. This plan gave immense satisfaction to Carrie, and when her brotherproposed that Durward should stop at their father's instead of thecaptain's, she seconded the invitation so warmly, that Durwardfinally consented, and word was immediately sent to Mrs. Livingstoneto hold herself in readiness to receive Mr. Bellmont. 

"Oh, I do hope your father will secure Woodlawn, " said Carrie, as inthe parlor of the Burnett House, Cincinnati, they were discussing theprojected purchase. 

The other young ladies had gone out shopping, and John Jr. , who waspresent, and who felt just like teasing his sister, replied, "What doyou care? Mrs. Graham has no daughters, and she won't fancy such achit as you, so it must be Durward's society that you so much desire, bit I can assure you that your nose will be broken when once he seesour 'Lena. "

Carrie turned toward the window to hide her wrath at this speech, while Durward asked if "Miss Rivers were so very handsome?"

"_Handsome_!" repeated John. "That don't begin to express it. _Cad_is what I call _handsome_, but 'Lena is beautiful, more beautiful, most beautiful--now you have it superlatively. Such complexion--sucheyes--such hair--I'll be hanged if I haven't been more than half inlove with her myself. "

"I really begin to tremble, " said Durward, laughingly while Carrierejoined, "You've only to make the slightest advance, and your lovewill be returned ten-fold, for 'Lena is very susceptible, and alreadyencourages several admirers. "

"There, my fair sister, you are slightly mistaken, " interrupted JohnJr. , who was going on farther in his remarks, when Durward asked if"she ever left any _marks_ of her affection, " referring to thescratch she had given Carrie; who, before her brother had time tospeak, replied that "the _will_ and the _claws_ remained the same, though common decency kept them hidden when it was necessary. "

"That's downright slander, " said John Jr. , determined now upondefending his cousin, "'Lena has a high temper, I acknowledge, butshe tries hard to govern it, and for nearly two years I've not seenher angry once, though she's had every provocation under heaven. "

"She knows _when_ and _where_ to be amiable, " retorted Carrie. "Anyone of her admirers would tell the same story with yourself. "

At this juncture John Jr. Was called for a moment from the room, andCarrie, fearing she had said too much, immediately apologized toDurward, saying, "it was not often that she allowed herself to speakagainst her cousin, and that she should not have done so now, werenot John so much blinded, that her mother, knowing Lena's ambitiousnature, sometimes seriously feared the consequence. I know, " saidshe, "that John fancies Nellie, but 'Lena's influence over him isvery great. "

Durward made no reply, and Carrie continued: "I'm always sorry when Ispeak against 'Lena; she is my cousin, and I wouldn't prejudice anyone against her; so you must forget my unkind remarks, which wouldnever have been uttered in the presence of a stranger. She _is_handsome and agreeable, and you must like her in spite of what Isaid. "

"I cannot refuse when so fair a lady pleads her cause, " was Durward'sgallant answer, and as the other young ladies then entered the room, the conversation ceased. 

Meanwhile 'Lena was very differently employed. Nearly a year hadelapsed since she had seen her cousins, and her heart bounded withjoy at the thought of meeting Anna, whom she dearly loved. Carriewas to her an object of indifference, rather than dislike, andofttimes had she thought, "If she would only let me love her. " Butit could not be, for there was no affinity between them. Carrie wasproud and overbearing--jealous of her high-spirited cousin, who, asJohn Jr. Had said, strove hard to subdue her temper, and who nowseldom resented Carrie's insults, except when they were leveled ather aged grandmother. 

As we have before stated, news' had been received at Maple Grove thatDurward would accompany her cousins home. Mr. Graham would, ofcourse, join him there, and accordingly, extensive preparations wereimmediately commenced. An unusual degree of sickness was prevailingamong the female portion of Mrs. Livingstone's servants, and the veryday before the company was expected, Aunt Milly, the head cook wastaken suddenly ill. Coaxing, scolding, and threatening were alikeineffectual. The old negress would not say she was well when shewasn't, and as Hagar, the next in command, was also sick (_lazy_, asher mistress called it, ) Mrs. Livingstone was herself obliged tosuperintend the cookery. 

"Crosser than a bar, " as the little darkies said, she flew back andforth, from kitchen to pantry, her bunch of keys rattling, thecorners of her mouth drawn back, and her hands raised ready to strikeat anything that came in her way. As if there were a fatalityattending her movements, she was unfortunate in whatever sheundertook. The cake was burned black, the custard curdled, thepreserves were found to be working, the big preserve dish got broken, a thunder shower soured the cream, and taking it all in all, shereally had trouble enough to disconcert the most experiencedhousekeeper. Still, the few negroes able to assist, thought "sheneedn't be so fetch-ed cross. "

But cross she was, feeling more than once inclined to lay witchcraftto the charge of old Milly, who comfortably ensconced in bed, listened in dismay to the disastrous accounts brought her from timeto time from the kitchen, mentally congratulating herself the whileupon not being within hearing of her mistress' tongue. Once Mrs. Nichols attempted to help, but she was repulsed so angrily that 'Lenadid not presume to offer her services until the day of their arrival, when, without a word, she repaired to the chambers, which she sweptand dusted, arranging the furniture, and making everything ready forthe comfort of the travelers. Then descending to the parlors, shewent through the same process there, filled the vases with freshflowers, looped back the curtains, opened the piano, wheeled the sofaa little to the right, the large chair a little to the left, and thengoing to the dining-room, she set the table in the most perfectorder, doing all so quietly that her aunt knew nothing of it until itwas done. Jake the coachman, had gone down to Frankfort after them, and as he was not expected to return until between three and four, dinner was deferred until that hour. 

From sunrise Mrs. Livingstone had worked industriously, until herface and temper were at a boiling heat. The clock was on the pointof striking three, and she was bending over a roasting turkey, when'Lena ventured to approach her, saying, "I have seen Aunt Milly bastea turkey many a time, and I am sure I can do it as well as she. "

"Well, what of it?" was the uncivil answer. 

'Lena's temper choked her, but forcing it down, she replied: "Why, itis almost three, and I thought perhaps you would want to cool anddress yourself before they came. I can see to the dinner, I know Ican. Please let me try. "

Somewhat mollified by her niece's kind manner, Mrs. Livingstoneresigned her post and repaired to her own room, while 'Lena, confining her long curls to the top of her head and donning the widecheck-apron which her aunt had thrown aside, set herself at work witha right good will. 

"What dat ar you say?" exclaimed Aunt Milly, lifting her woolly headfrom her pillow, and looking at the little colored girl, who hadbrought to her the news that "young miss was in de kitchen. " "Whatdat ar you tellin'? Miss 'Leny pokin' 'mong de pots and kittles, anddis ole nigger lazin' in bed jes like white folks. Long as 'twas olemiss, I didn't seer. Good 'nough for her to roast, blister, andbile; done get used to it, case she's got to in kingdom come, nomistake--he!--he! But little Miss 'Leny, it's too bad to bake herlamb's-wool hands and face, and all de quality comin': I'll hobble upthar, if I can stand. "

Suiting the action to the word she got out of bed, and crawling up tothe kitchen, insisted upon taking 'Lena's place, saying, "she couldsit in her chair and tell the rest what to do. "

For a time 'Lena hesitated, the old woman seemed so faint and weak, but the sound of wheels decided her. Springing to the sideboard inthe dining-room, she brought Aunt Milly a glass of wine, whichrevived her so much that she now felt willing to leave her. By thistime the carriage was at the door, and to escape unobserved was nowher great object. But this she could not do, for as she was crossingthe hall, Anna espied her, and darting forward, seized her around theneck, at the same time dragging her toward Carrie, who, withDurward's eye upon her, _kissed_ her twice; then turning to him, shesaid, "I suppose you do not need an introduction to Miss Rivers?"

Durward was almost guilty of the rudeness of staring at thestrangeness of 'Lena's appearance, for as nearly as she could, shelooked like a fright. Bending over hot stoves and boiling gravies isnot very beneficial to one's complexion, and 'Lena's cheeks, neck, forehead, and nose were of a purplish red--her hair was tucked backin a manner exceedingly unbecoming, while the broad check-apron, which came nearly to her feet, tended in nowise to improve herappearance. She felt it keenly, and after returning Durward'ssalutation, she broke away before Anna or John, Jr. , who were bothsurprised at her looks, had time to ask a question. 

Running up to her room, her first impulse was to cry, but knowingthat would disfigure her still more, she bathed her burning face andneck, brushed out her curls, threw on a simple muslin dress, andstarted for the parlor, of which Durward and Carrie were at thatmoment the only occupants. As she was passing the outer door, sheobserved upon one of the piazza pillars a half-blown rose, and for amoment stopped to admire it. Durward, who sat in a corner, did notsee her, but Carrie did, and a malicious feeling prompted her to drawout her companion, who she felt sure was disappointed in 'Lena'sface. They were speaking of a lady whom they saw at Frankfort, andwhom Carrie pronounced "perfectly beautiful, " while Durward wouldhardly admit that she was even good-looking. 

"I am surprised at your taste, " said Carrie, adding, as she noticedthe proximity of her cousin, "I think she resembles 'Lena, and ofcourse you'll acknowledge _she_ is beautiful. "

"She _was_ beautiful five years ago, but she's greatly changed sincethen, " answered Durward, never suspecting the exquisite satisfactionhis words afforded Carrie, who replied, "You had better keep thatopinion to yourself, and not express it before Captain Atherton orbrother John. "

"Who takes my name in vain?" asked John Jr. , himself appearing at aside door. 

"Oh, John, " said Carrie, "we were just disputing about 'Lena. Durward does not think her handsome. "

"Durward be hanged!" answered John, making a feint of drawing fromhis pocket a pistol which was not there. "What fault has he to findwith 'Lena?"

"A little too rosy, that's all, " said Durward, laughingly, while Johncontinued, "She _did_ look confounded red and dowdyish, for her. Idon't understand it myself. "

Here the hem of the muslin dress on which Carrie's eye had all thewhile been resting, disappeared, and as there was no longer anincentive for ill-natured remarks, the amiable young lady adroitlychanged the conversation. 

John Jr. Also caught a glimpse of the retreating figure, and startedin pursuit, in the course of his search passing the kitchen, where hewas instantly hailed by Aunt Milly, who, while bemoaning her ownaches and pains, did not fail to tell him how "Miss 'Lena, likeaborned angel dropped right out of 'tarnity, had been in thar, burning her skin to a fiery red, a-tryin' to get up a tip-top dinner. "

"So ho!" thought the young man, "that explains it;" and turning onhis heel, he walked back to the house just as the last bell wasringing for dinner. 

On entering the dining-room, he found all the family assembled, except 'Lena. She had excused herself on the plea of a severeheadache, and now in her own room was chiding herself for being somuch affected by a remark accidentally overheard. What did she careif Durward did think her plain? He was nothing to her, and neverwould be--and again she bathed her head, which really was achingsadly. 

"And so 'Lena's got the headache, " said John Jr. "Well, I don'twonder, cooking all the dinner as she did. "

"What do you mean?" asked Anna, while Mrs. Livingstone's angry frownbade her son keep silence, Filial obedience, however, was not one of John Jr. 's cardinalvirtues, and in a few words, he repeated what Aunt Milly had toldhim, adding aside to Durward, "_This_ explains the extreme rosinesswhich so much offended your lordship. When next you see her, you'llchange your mind. "

Suddenly remembering that his grandmother had not been introduced, henow presented her to Durward. The _Noble's_ blood had long beenforgotten, but grandma was never at a loss for a subject, and shecommenced talking notwithstanding Carrie's efforts to keep her still. 

"Now I think on't, Car'line, " said she at last, turning to hergranddaughter, "now I think on't, what made you propose to have mydinner sent up to my room. I hain't et there but once this greatwhile, and that was the day General Fontaine's folks were here, andMatilda thought I warn't able to come down. "

Durward's half-concealed smile showed that he understood it all, while John Jr. , in his element when his grandmother was talking, managed, to lead her on, until she reached her favorite theme--NancyScovandyke. Here a look from her son silenced her, and as dinner wasjust then over, Durward missed of hearing that remarkable lady'shistory. 

Late in the afternoon, as the family were sitting upon the piazza, 'Lena joined them. Her headache had passed away, leaving her face ashade whiter than usual. The flush was gone from her forehead andnose, but mindful of Durward's remark, the roses deepened on hercheek, which only increased her loveliness. 

"I acknowledge that I was wrong--your cousin _is_ beautiful, "whispered Durward to Carrie, who, mentally hating the beauty whichhad never before struck her so forcibly, replied in her softesttones, "I knew you would, and I hope you'll be equally ready toforgive her for winning hearts only to break them, for with that facehow can she help it?"

"A handsome face is no excuse for coquetry, " answered Durward;"neither can I think Miss Rivers guilty of it. At all events, I meanto venture a little nearer, " and before Carrie could frame areasonable excuse for keeping him at her side, he had crossed everand taken a seat by 'Lena, with whom he was soon in the midst of ananimated conversation, his surprise each moment increasing at thedepth of intellect she displayed, for the beauty of her mind wasequal to that of her person. Had it not been for the remembrance ofCarrie's insinuations, his admiration would have been complete. Butanything like coquetry he heartily despised, and one great secret ofhis liking for Carrie, was her evident freedom from that fault. Asyet he had seen nothing to condemn in 'Lena's conduct. Whollyunaffected, she talked with him as she would have talked with anystranger, and still there was in her manner a certain coldness forwhich he could not account. 

"Perhaps she thinks me not worth the winning, " thought he, and inspite of his principles, he erelong found himself exerting all hispowers to please and interest her. 

About tea-time, Captain Atherton rode into the yard, andsimultaneously with his arrival, Mr. Everett came also. Immediatelyremembering what he had heard, Durward, in his eagerness to watch'Lena, failed to note the crimson flush on Anna's usually pale cheek, as Malcolm bent over her with his low-spoken, tender words ofwelcome, and when the phthisicky captain, claiming the privilege ofan old friend, kissed the blushing Anna, Durward in his blindnessattributed the scornful expression of 'Lena's face to a feeling ofunwillingness that any save herself should share the attentions evenof the captain! And in this impression he was erelong confirmed. 

Drawing his chair up to Anna, Captain Atherton managed to keepMalcolm at a distance, while he himself wholly monopolized the younggirl, who cast imploring glances toward her cousin, as if asking forrelief. Many a time, on similar occasions, had 'Lena claimed theattention of the captain, for the sake of leaving Anna free toconverse with Malcolm, and now understanding what was wanted of her, she nodded in token that she would come to the rescue. Just then, Mrs. Livingstone, who had kept an eye upon her niece, drew near, andas she seemed to want a seat; 'Lena instantly arose and offered hers, going herself to the place where the captain was sitting. Erelong, her lively sallies and the captain's loud laugh began to attract Mrs. Livingstone's attention, and observing that Durward's eyes werefrequently drawn that way, she thought proper to make some remarksconcerning the impropriety of her niece's conduct. 

"I do wish, " said she, apparently speaking more to herself than toDurward, "I do wish 'Lena would learn discretion, and let CaptainAtherton alone, when she knows how much her behavior annoys Mr. Everett. "

"Is Mr. Everett anything to her!" asked Durward, half hoping that shewould not confirm what Carrie had before hinted. 

"If he isn't he ought to be, " answered Mrs. Livingstone, with anominous shake of the head. "Rumor says they are engaged, and thoughwhen questioned she denies it, she gives people abundant reason tothink so, and yet every chance she gets, she flirts with CaptainAtherton, as you see her doing now. "

"What can she or any other young girl possibly want of that old man?"asked Durward, laughing at the very idea. 

"He is _rich_. 'Lena is poor, proud, and ambitious--there lies thesecret, " was Mrs. Livingstone's reply, and thinking she had saidenough for the present, she excused herself, while she went to giveorders concerning supper. 

John Jr. , and Carrie, too, had disappeared, and thus left to himself, Durward had nothing to do but to watch 'Lena, who, as she sawsymptoms of desertion in the anxious glances which the captain casttoward Anna, redoubled her exertions to keep him at her side, thusconfirming Durward in the belief that she really was what her auntand Carrie had represented her to be. "Poor, proud, and ambitious, "rang in his ears, and as he mistook the mischievous look which 'Lenafrequently sent toward Anna and Malcolm, for a desire to see how thelatter was affected by her conduct, he thought "Fickle as fair, " atthe same time congratulating himself that he had obtained an insightinto her real character, ere her exceeding beauty and agreeablemanners had made any particular impression upon him. 

Knowing she had done nothing to offend him, and feeling piqued at hisindifference, 'Lena in turn treated him so coldly, that even Carriewas satisfied with the phase which affairs had assumed, and thatnight, in the privacy of her mother's dressing-room, expressed herpleasure that matters were progressing so finely. 

"You've no idea, mother, " said she, "how much he detests anythinglike coquetry. Nellie Douglass thinks it's a kind of monomania withhim, and I am inclined to believe it is so. "

"In that case, " answered Mrs. Livingstone, "it behooves you, in hispresence, to be very careful how you demean yourself toward othergentlemen. "

"I haven't lived nineteen years for nothing, " said Carrie, foldingher soft white hands complacently one over the other. 

"Speaking of Nellie Douglass, " continued Mrs. Livingstone, who hadlong desired this interview with her daughter, "speaking of Nellie, reminds me of your brother, who seems perfectly crazy about her. "

"And what if he does ?" asked Carrie, her thoughts far more intentupon Durward Bellmont than her brother. "Isn't Nellie good enoughfor him?"

"Yes, good enough, I admit, " returned her mother, "but I think I canfind a far more suitable match--Mabel Ross, for instance. Herfortune is said to be immense, while Mr. Douglass is worth little ornothing. "

"When you bring about a union between John Livingstone Jr. And MabelRoss, I shall have full confidence in your powers to do anything, even to the marrying of Anna and Grandfather Atherton, " answeredCarrie, to whom her mother's schemes were no secret. 

"And that, too, I'll effect, rather than see her thrown away upon alow bred northerner, who shall never wed her--never;" and the haughtywoman paced up and down her room, devising numerous ways by which herlong cherished three-fold plan should be effected. 

The next morning, Durward arose much earlier than was his usualcustom, and going out into the garden he came suddenly upon 'Lena. "This, " said he, "is a pleasure which I did not expect when I ratherunwillingly tore myself from my pillow. "

All the coldness of the night before was gone, but 'Lena could not sosoon forget, and quite indifferently she answered, that "she learnedto rise early among the New England hills. "

"An excellent practice, and one which more of our young ladies woulddo well to imitate, " returned Durward, at the same time speaking ofthe beautifying effect which the morning air had upon her complexion. 

'Lena reddened, for she recalled his words of yesterday concerningher plainness, and somewhat sharply she replied, that "anyinformation regarding her personal appearance was wholly unnecessary, as she knew very well how she looked. "

Durward bit his lip, and resolving never to compliment her again, walked on in silence at her side, while 'Lena, repenting of her hastywords, and desirous of making amends, exerted herself to beagreeable; and by the time the breakfast-bell rang, Durward mentallypronounced her "a perfect mystery, " which he would take delight inunraveling!

CHAPTER X. 

MR. AND MRS. GRAHAM. 

Breakfast had been some time over, when the roll of carriage wheelsand a loud ring at the door, announced the arrival of Mr. Graham, who, true to his appointment with Durward, had come up to meet him, accompanied by Mrs. Graham. This lady, who could boast of havingonce been the bride of an English lord, to say nothing of belongingto the "very first family of Virginia, " was a sort of bugbear to Mrs. Livingstone, who, haughty and overbearing to her equals, wasnevertheless cringing and cowardly in the presence of those whom sheconsidered her superiors. Never having seen Mrs. Graham, her ideasconcerning her were quite elevated, and now when she cameunexpectedly, it quite overcame her. Unfortunately, too, she wasthis morning suffering from a nervous headache, the result of theexcitement and late hours of the night before, and on learning thatMrs. Graham was in the parlor, she fell back in her rocking-chair, and between a groan and a sigh, declared her utter inability to seeher at present, saying that Carrie must play the part of hostessuntil such time as she felt composed enough to undertake it. 

"Oh, I can't--I _shan't_--that ends it!" said Carrie, who, though agood deal dressed on Durward's account, still felt anxious to give afew more finishing touches to her toilet, and to see if her hair andcomplexion were all right, ere she ventured into the august presenceef her "mother-in-law elect, " as she confidently considered Mrs. Graham. 

"Anna must go, then, " persisted Mrs. Livingstone, who knew full wellhow useless it would be to press Carrie farther. "Anna mustgo--where is she? Call her, 'Lena. "

But Anna was away over the fields, enjoying with Mr. Everett a walkwhich had been planned the night previous, and when 'Lena returnedwith the intelligence that she was nowhere to be found, her aunt ingreat distress exclaimed, "Mercy me! what will Mrs. Graham think--andMr. Livingstone, too, keeps running back and forth for somebody toentertain her. What shall I do! I can't go in looking so yellow andjaded as I now do!"

'Lena's first thought was to bring her aunt's powderball, as thesurest way of remedying the yellow skin, but knowing that such an actwould be deeply resented, she quickly repressed the idea, offeringinstead to go herself to the parlor. 

"_You_! What could _you_ say to her?" returned Mrs. Livingstone, towhom the proposition was not altogether displeasing. 

"I can at least answer her questions, " returned 'Lena and after amoment her aunt consented, wondering the while how 'Lena, in herplain gingham wrapper and linen collar, could be willing to meet thefashionable Mrs. Graham. 

"But then, " thought she, "she has so little sensibility, I don'ts'pose she cares! and why should she? Mrs. Graham will of courselook upon her as only a little above a servant"--and with thiscomplimentary reflection upon her niece, Mrs. Livingstone retired toher dressing-room, while 'Lena, with a beating heart and slightlyheightened color, repaired to the parlor. 

On a sofa by the window sat Mrs. Graham, and the moment 'Lena's eyefell upon her, her fears vanished, while she could hardly repress asmile at the idea of being afraid of _her_. She was a short, dumpy, florid looking woman, showily, and as 'Lena thought, _overdressed_for morning, as her person was covered with jewelry, which flashedand sparkled with every movement. Her forehead was very low, andmarked by a scowl of discontent which was habitual, for witheverything to make her happy, Mrs. Graham was far from being so. Exceedingly nervous and fidgety, she was apt to see only the darkerside, and when her husband and son, who were of exactly oppositetemperaments, strove to laugh her into good spirits, they generallymade the matter worse, as she usually reproached them with having nofeeling or sympathy for her. 

Accustomed to a great deal of attention, she had fretted herself intoquite a fever at Mrs. Livingstone's apparent lack of courtesy in nothastening to receive her, and when 'Lena's light step was heard inthe hall, she turned toward the door with a frown which seemed to askwhy she had not come sooner. Durward, who was present immediatelyintroduced his mother, at the same time admiring the extreme dignityof 'Lena's manner as she received the lady's greeting, apologizingfor her aunt's non-appearance, saying "she was suffering from asevere headache, and begged to be excused for an hour or so. "

"Quite excusable, " returned Mrs. Graham, at the same time sayingsomething in a low tone about it's not being her wish to stop thereso early, as she knew _she_ was not expected. 

"But perfectly welcome, nevertheless, " 'Lena hastened to say, thinking that for the time being the reputation of her uncle's housewas resting upon her shoulders. 

"I dare say, " was Mrs. Graham's ungracious answer, and then herlittle gray, deep-set eyes rested upon 'Lena, wondering if she were"a governess or what?" and thinking it strange that she should seemso perfectly self-possessed. 

Insensibly, too, 'Lena's manner won upon her, for spite of herfretfulness, Mrs. Graham at heart was a kindly disposed woman. Illhealth and long years of dissipation had helped to make her what shewas. Besides this, she was not quite happy in her domesticrelations, for though Mr. Graham possessed all the requisites of akind and affectionate husband, he could not remove from her mind thebelief that he liked others better then he did herself! 'Twas invain that he alternately laughed at and reasoned with her on thesubject. She was not to be convinced, and so poor Mr. Graham, whowas really exceedingly polite and affable to the ladies, was almostconstantly provoking the green-eyed monster by his attentions to someone of the fair sex. In spite of his nightly "Caudle" lectures, he_would_ transgress again and again, until his wife's patience wasexhausted, and now she affected to have given him up, turning forcomfort and affection toward Durward, who was her special delight, "the very apple of her eye--he was so much like his father, SirArthur, who during the whole year that she lived with him had neveronce given her cause for jealousy. "

Just before 'Lena entered the parlor Mr. Graham, had for a momentstepped out with Mr. Livingstone, but soon returning, he, too, wasintroduced to the young lady. It was strange, considering 'Lena'suncommon beauty, that Mrs. Graham did not watch her husband's manner, but for once in her life she felt no fears, and looking from thewindow, she failed to note the sudden pallor which overspread hisface when Mr. Livingstone presented to him "Miss Rivers--my niece. "

Mr. Graham was a tall, finely-formed man, with a broad, good-humoredface, whose expression instantly demanded respect from strangers, while his pleasant, affable deportment universally won the friendshipof ail who knew him. And 'Lena was not an exception to the generalrule, for the moment his warm hand grasped hers and his kindlybeaming eye rested upon her, her heart went toward him as a friend, while she wondered why he looked at her so long and earnestly, twicerepeating her name--"Miss Rivers--_Rivers_. "

From the first, 'Lena had recognized him as the same gentleman whomDurward had called father in the cars years ago, and when, as if toapologize for his singular conduct, he asked if they had never metbefore, she referred him to that time, saying "she thought it strangethat he should remember her. "

"Old acquaintances--ah--indeed !" and little Mrs. Graham nodded andfanned, while her round, florid face grew more florid, and her linencambric went up to her forehead as if trying to smooth out the scowlwhich was of too long standing to be smoothed. 

"Yes, my dear, " said Mr. Graham, turning toward his wife, "I hadentirely forgotten the circumstance, but it seems I saw her in thecars when we took our eastern tour six or seven years ago. You werequite a little girl then"--turning to 'Lena. 

"Only ten, " was the reply, and Mrs. Graham, ashamed of herself andanxious to make amends, softened considerable toward 'Lena, asking"how long she had lived in Kentucky--where she used to live--andwhere her mother was. "

At this question, Mr. Graham, who was talking with Mr. Livingstone, suddenly stopped. 

"My mother is dead, " answered 'Lena. 

"And your father?"

"Gone to Canada!" interrupted Durward, who had heard vague rumors of'Lena's parentage, and who did not quite like his mother's being soinquisitive. 

Mrs. Graham laughed; she always did at whatever Durward said; whileMr. Graham replied to a remark made by Mr. Livingstone some timebefore. Here John Jr. Appeared, and after being formally introduced, he seated himself by his cousin, addressing to her some trivialremark, and calling her '_Lena_. It was well for Mr. Graham's afterpeace that his wife was just then too much engrossed with Durward toobserve the effect which that name produced upon him. 

Abruptly rising he turned toward Mr. Livingstone, saying, "You weretelling me about a fine species of cactus which you have in youryard--suppose we go and see it. "

The cactus having been duly examined, praised, and commented upon, Mr. Graham casually remarked, "Your niece is a fine-lookinggirl--'Lena, I think your son called her?"

"Yes, or _Helena_, which was her mother's name. "

"And her mother was your sister, Helena Livingstone?"

"No, sir, Nichols. I changed my name to gratify a fancy of my wife, "returned Mr. Livingstone, thinking it better to tell the truth atonce. 

Again Mr. Graham bent over the cactus, inspecting it minutely, andkeeping his face for a long time concealed from his friend, whosethoughts, as was usually the case when his sister was mentioned, werefar back in the past. When at last Mr. Graham lifted his head therewere no traces of the stormy emotions which had shaken his veryheart-strings, and with a firm, composed step he walked back to theparlor, where he found both Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie just payingtheir respects to his lady. 

Nothing could be more marked than the difference between Carrie's and'Lena's manner toward Mrs. Graham. Even Durward noticed it, andwhile he could not sufficiently admire the quiet self-possession ofthe latter, who in her simple morning wrapper and linen collar hadmet his mother on perfectly equal terms, he for the first time in hislife felt a kind of contempt (pity he called it, ) for Carrie, who, inan elegantly embroidered double-gown confined by a rich cord andtassels, which almost swept the floor, treated his mother with afawning servility as disgusting to him as it was pleasing to the ladyin question. Accustomed to the utmost deference on account of herwealth and her husband's station, Mrs. Graham had felt as ifsomething were withheld from her, when neither Mrs. Livingstone norher daughters rushed to receive and welcome her; but now all wasforgotten, for nothing could be more flattering than theirattentions. Both mother and daughter having the son in view, didtheir best, and when at last Mrs. Graham asked to be shown to herroom, Carrie, instead of ringing for a servant, offered to conducther thither herself; whereupon Mrs. Graham laid her hand caressinglyupon her shoulders, calling her a "dear little pet, " and asking"where she stole those bright, naughty eyes!"

A smothered laugh from John Jr. And a certain low soft sound whichhe was in the habit of producing when desirous of reminding hissister of her _nose_, made the "bright, naughty eyes" flash soangrily, that even Durward noticed it, and wondered if 'Lena's temperhad not been transferred to her cousin. 

"That young girl--'Lena, I think you call her--is a relative ofyours, " said Mrs. Graham to Carrie, as they were ascending the stairs. 

"Ye-es, our cousin, I suppose, " answered Carrie. 

"She bears a very aristocratic name, that of Rivers--does she belongto a Virginia family?"

Carrie looked mysterious and answered, "I never knew anything of herfather, and indeed, I reckon no one does"--then after a moment sheadded, "Almost every family has some objectionable relative, withwhich they could willingly dispense. "

"Very true, " returned Mrs. Graham, "What a pity we couldn't all havebeen born in England. There, dear, you can leave me now. "

Accordingly Carrie started for the parlor, meeting in the hall hermother, who was in a sea of trouble concerning the dinner. "OldMilly, " she said, "had gone to bed out of pure hatefulness, pretending she had got a _collapse_, as she called it. "

"Can't Hagar do, " asked Carrie, anxious that Mrs. Graham's firstdinner with them should be in style. 

"Yes, but she can't do everything--somebody must superintend her, andas for burning myself brown over the dishes and then coming to thetable, I won't. "

"Why not make 'Lena go into the kitchen--it won't hurt her to-daymore than it did yesterday, " suggested Carrie. 

"A good idea, " returned her mother, and stepping to the parlor doorshe called 'Lena from a most interesting conversation with Mr. Graham, who, the moment his wife was gone, had taken a seat by herside, and now seemed oblivious to all else save her. 

There was a strange tenderness in the tones of his voice and in theexpression of his eyes as they rested upon her, and Durward, who wellknew his mother's peculiarities, felt glad that she was not present, while at the same time he wondered that his father should appear sodeeply interested in an entire stranger. 

"'Lena, I wish to speak with you, " said Mrs. Livingstone, appearingat the door, and 'Lena, gracefully excusing herself, left the room, while Mr. Graham commenced pacing the floor in a slow, abstractedmanner, ever and anon wiping away the beaded drops which stoodthickly on his forehead. 

Meantime, 'Lena, having learned for what she was wanted, went withouta word to the kitchen, though her proud nature rebelled, and it waswith difficulty she could force down the bitter spirit which she feltrising within her. Had her aunt or Carrie shared her labors, or hadthe former _asked_ instead of commanded her to go, she would havedone it willingly. But now in quite a perturbed state of mind shebent over pastry and pudding, scarcely knowing which was which, untila pleasant voice at her side made her start, and looking up she sawAnna, who had just returned from her walk, and who on learning howmatters stood, declared her intention of helping too. 

"If there's anything I like, it's being in a muss, " said she, andthrowing aside her leghorn flat, pinning up her sleeves, andfastening back her curls in imitation of 'Lena, she was soon up toher elbows in cooking--her dress literally covered with flour, eggs, and cream, and her face as red as the currant jelly which Hagarbrought from the china closet. "There's a pie fit for a queen orLady Graham either, " said she, depositing in the huge oven her firstattempt in the pie line. 

But alas! Malcolm Everett's words of love spoken beneath thewide-spreading sycamore were still ringing in Anna's ears, so it wasno wonder she _salted_ the custard instead of sweetening it. But noone noticed the mistake, and when the pie was done, both 'Lena andHagar praised its white, uncurdled appearance. 

"Now we shall just have time to change our dresses, " said Anna, wheneverything pertaining to the dinner was in readiness, but 'Lena, knowing how flushed and heated she was, and remembering Durward'sdistaste of high colors, announced her determination of not appearingat the table. 

"I shall see that grandma is nicely dressed, " said she, "and you mustlook after her a little, for I shall not come down. "

So saying she ran up to her room, where she found Mrs. Nichols in agreat state of fermentation to know "who was below, and what thedoin's was, I should of gone down, " said she, "but I know'd 'Tildawould be madder'n a hornet. "

'Lena commended her discretion in remaining where she was, and theninforming her that Mr. Bellmont's father and mother were there, sheproceeded to make some alterations in her dress. The handsome blacksilk and neat lace cap, both the Christmas gift of John Jr. , weredonned, and then, staff in hand, the old lady started for thedining-room, 'Lena giving her numerous charges not to talk much, andon no account to mention her favorite topic--Nancy Scovandyke!

"Nancy's as good any day as Miss Graham, if she did marry a livelord, " was grandma's mental comment, as the last-mentioned lady, rustling in a heavy brocade and loaded down with jewelry, took herplace at the table. 

Purposely, Mrs. Livingstone omitted an introduction which herhusband, through fear of her, perhaps, failed to give. But not sowith John Jr. To be sure, he cared not a fig, on his grandmother'saccount, whether she were introduced or not, for he well knew shewould not hesitate to make their acquaintance; but knowing how itwould annoy his mother and Carrie, he called out, in a loud tone, "Mygrandmother, Mrs. Nichols--Mr. And Mrs. Graham. "

Mr. Graham started so quickly that his wife asked "if anything stunghim. "

"Yes--no, '' said he, at the same time indicating that it was notworth while to mind it. 

"Got stung, have you?" said Mrs. Nichols. "Mebby 'twas abumble-bee--seems 'sef I smelt one; but like enough it's the scent onCar'line's handkercher. "

Mrs. Graham frowned majestically, but it was entirely lost ongrandma, who, after a time, forgetful of 'Lena's caution, said, "Ib'lieve they say you're from Virginny!"

"Yes, madam, Virginia is my native state, "' returned Mrs. Graham, clipping off each word as if it were burning her tongue. 

"Anywheres near Richmond?" continued Mrs. Nichols. 

"I was born in Richmond, madam. "

"Law, now I who knows but you're well acquainted with NancyScovandyke's kin. "

Mrs. Graham turned as red as the cranberry sauce upon her plate, asshe replied, "I've not the honor of knowing either Miss Scovandyke orany of her relatives. "

"Wall, she's a smart, likely gal, or woman I s'pose you'd call her, bein' she's just the age of my son. "

Here Mrs. Nichols, suddenly remembering 'Lena's charge, stopped, butJohn Jr. , who loved to see the fun go on, started her again, byasking what relatives Miss Scovandyke had in Virginia. 

"'Leny told me not to mention Nancy, but bein' you've asked a civilquestion, 'tain't more'n fair for me to answer it. Better'n fortyyear ago Nancy's mother's aunt----"

"Which would be Miss Nancy's great-aunt, " interrupted John Jr. 

"Bless the boy, " returned the old lady, "he's got the Nichols' headfor figgerin'. Yes, Nancy's great-aunt though she was six years andtwo months younger'n Nancy's mother. Wall, as I was sayin', she wentoff to Virginny to teach music. She was prouder'n Lucifer, and aftera spell she married a southerner, rich as a Jew, and then she nevertook no more notice of her folks to hum, than's ef they hadn't been. But the poor critter didn't live long to enjoy it, for when her firstbaby was born, she died. 'Twas a little girl, but her folks inMassachusetts have never heard a word whether she's dead or alive. Joel Slocum, that's Nancy's nephew, says he means to go down theresome day, and look her up, but I wouldn't bother with 'em, for thatside of the house always did feel big, and above Nancy's folks, thinkin' Nancy's mother married beneath her. "

Mrs. Graham must have enjoyed her dinner very much, for duringgrandma's recital she applied herself assiduously to her plate, neveronce looking up, while her face and neck were literally spotted, either with heat, excitement or anger. These spots at last attractedMrs. Nichols' attention, causing her to ask the lady "if she warn'tpestered with erysipelas. "

"I am not aware of it, madam, " answered Mrs. Graham, and grandmareplied, "It looks mighty like it to me, and I've seen a good dealon't, for Nancy Scovandyke has allers had it more or less. Now Ithink on't, " she continued, as if bent on tormenting her companion, "now I think on't, you look quite a considerable like Nancy--the sameforehead and complexion--only she's a head taller. Hain't younoticed it, John?"

"No, I have not, " answered John, at the same time proposing a changein the conversation, as he presumed "they had all heard enough ofNancy Scovandyke. "

At this moment the dessert appeared, and with it Anna's pie. JohnJr. Was the first to taste it, and with an expression of disgust heexclaimed, "Horror, mother, who made this pie?"

Mrs. Livingstone needed but one glance at her guests to know thatsomething was wrong, and darting an angry frown at Hagar, who wasbusy at a side-table, she wondered "if there ever was any one who hadso much trouble with servants as herself. "

Anna saw the gathering storm, and knowing full well that it wouldburst on poor Hagar's head, spoke out, "Hagar is not in the fault, mother--no one but myself is to blame. _I_ made the pie, and musthave put in salt instead of sugar. "

"You made the pie!" repeated Mrs. Livingstone angrily, "What businesshad you in the kitchen? Pity we hadn't a few more servants, for thenwe should all be obliged to turn drudges. "

Anna was about to reply, when John Jr. Prevented her, by asking, "ifit hurt his sister to be in the kitchen any more than it did 'Lena, who, " he said, "worked there both yesterday and to-day, burningherself until she is ashamed to appear at the table. "

Mortified beyond measure at what had occurred, Mrs. Livingstonehastened to explain that her servants were nearly all sick, and thatin her dilemma, 'Lena had volunteered her services, adding by way ofcompliment, undoubtedly, that "her niece seemed peculiarly adapted tosuch work--indeed, that her forte lay among pots and kettles. "

An expression of scorn, unusual to Mr. Graham, passed over his face, and in a sarcastic tone he asked Mrs. Livingstone, "if she thought itdetracted from a young lady's worth, to be skilled in whateverpertained to the domestic affairs of a family. "

Ready to turn whichever way the wind did, Mrs. Livingstone replied, "Not at all--not at all. I mean that my daughters shall learneverything, so that their husbands will find in them every necessaryqualification. "

"Then you confidently expect them to catch husbands some time orother, " said John Jr. , whereupon Carrie blushed, and looked veryinteresting, while Anna retorted, "Of course we shall. I wouldn't bean old maid for the world--I'd run away first!"

And amidst the laughter which this speech called forth the companyretired from the table. For some time past Mrs. Nichols had walkedwith a cane, limping even then. Observing this, Mr. Graham, with hisusual gallantry, offered her his arm, which she willingly accepted, casting a look of triumph upon her daughter-in-law, who apparentlywas not so well pleased. So thorough had been grandma's training, that she did not often venture into the parlor without a specialinvitation from its mistress, but on this occasion, Mr. Graham ledher in there as a matter of course, and placing her upon the sofa, seated himself by her side, and commenced questioning her concerningher former home and history. Never in her life had Mrs. Nichols feltmore communicative, and never before had she so attentive a listener. Particularly did he hang upon every word, when she told him of herHelena, of her exceeding beauty, her untimely death, and rascallyhusband. 

"Rivers--Rivers, " said he, "what kind of a looking man was he?"

"The Lord only knows--I never see him, " returned Mrs. Nichols. "Butthis much I do know, he was one scandalous villain, and if an oldwoman's curses can do him any harm, he's had mine a plenty of times. "

"You do wrong to talk so, " said Mr. Graham, "for who knows howbitterly he may have repented of the great wrong done to yourdaughter. "

"Then why in the name of common sense don't he hunt up her child, andown her--he needn't be ashamed of 'Leny. "

"Very true, " answered Mr. Graham. "No one need be ashamed of her. Ishould be proud to call her my daughter. But as I was saying, perhaps this Rivers has married a second time, keeping his firstmarriage a secret from his wife, who is so proud and high-spiritedthat now, after the lapse of years, he dares not tell her for fear ofwhat might follow. "

"Then she's a good-for-nothing, stuck-up thing, and he's a cowardlypuppy! That's my opinion on 'em, and I'll tell 'em so, if ever I see'em!" exclaimed Mrs. Nichols, her wrath waxing warmer and warmertoward the destroyer of her daughter. 

Pausing for breath, she helped herself to a pinch of her favoriteMaccaboy, and then passed it to Mr. Graham, who, to her astonishment, took some, slyly casting it aside when she did not see him. Thisemboldened the old lady to offer it to Mrs. Graham, who, languidlyreclining upon the end of the sofa, sat talking to Carrie, who, on alow stool at her feet, was looking up into her face as if in perfectadmiration. Without deigning other reply than a haughty shake of thehead, Mrs. Graham cast a deprecating glance toward Carrie, whomuttered, "How disgusting! But for pa's sake we tolerate it. "

Here 'Lena entered the parlor, very neatly dressed, and looking freshand blooming as a rose. There was no vacant seat near except onebetween Durward and John Jr. , which, at the invitation of the latter, she accepted. A peculiar smile flitted over Carrie's face, which wasnoticed by Mrs. Graham, and attributed to the right cause. Ere longDurward, John Jr. , 'Lena and Anna, who had joined them, left thehouse, and from the window Carrie saw that they were amusingthemselves by playing "Graces. " Gradually the sound of their voicesincreased, and as 'Lena's clear, musical laugh rang out above therest, Mrs. Graham and Carrie looked out just in time to see Durwardholding the struggling girl, while John Jr. , claimed the reward ofhis having thrown the "grace hoop" upon her head. 

Inexpressily shocked, the precise Mrs. Graham asked, "What kind of agirl is your cousin?" to which Carrie replied, "You have a fairsample of her, " at the same time nodding toward 'Lena, who wasunmercifully pulling John Jr. 's ears as a reward for his presumption. 

"Rather hoydenish, I should think, " returned Mrs. Graham, secretlyhoping Durward would not become enamored of her. 

At length the party left the yard, and repairing to the garden, satdown in one of the arbor bridges, where they were joined by MalcolmEverett, who naturally, and as a matter of course, appropriated Annato himself, Durward observed this, and when he saw them walk awaytogether, while 'Lena appeared wholly unconcerned, he began to thinkthat possibly Mrs. Livingstone was mistaken when she hinted of anengagement between her niece and Mr. Everett. Knowing John Jr. 'sstraightforward way of speaking, he determined to sound him, so hesaid, "Your sister and Mr. Everett evidently prefer each other'ssociety to ours. "

"Oh, yes, " answered John. "I saw that years ago, when Anna wasn'tknee-high; and I'm glad of it, for Everett is a mighty fine fellow. "

'Lena, too, united in praising her teacher, until Durward feltcertain that she had never entertained for him any feeling strongerthan that of friendship; and as to her flirting seriously withCaptain Atherton, the idea was too preposterous to be harbored for asingle moment. Once exonerated from these charges, it was strangehow fast 'Lena rose in his estimation, and when John Jr. , with a loudyawn, asked if they did not wish he would leave them alone, more inearnest than in fun Durward replied, "Yes, yes, do. "

"I reckon I will, " said John, shaking down his tight pants, andpulling at his long coat sleeves. "I never want anybody round whenI'm with Nellie Douglass. "

So saying, he walked off, leaving Durward and 'Lena alone. Thatneither of them felt at all sorry, was proved by the length of timewhich they remained together, for when more than an hour afterwardMrs. Graham proposed to Carrie to take a turn in the garden, shefound the young couple still in the arbor, so wholly engrossed thatthey neither saw nor heard her until she stood before them. 

'Lena was an excellent horsewoman, and Durward had just proposed aride early the next morning, when his mother, forcing down her wrath, laid her hand on his shoulder, and as if the proposition had comefrom 'Lena instead of her son, she said, "No, no, Miss Rivers, Durward can't go--he has got to drive me over to Woodlawn, togetherwith Carrie and Anna, whom I have asked to accompany me; so you see'twill be impossible for him to ride with you. "

"Unless she goes with us, " interrupted Durward. "You would like tovisit Woodlawn, would you not, Miss Rivers?"

"Oh, very much, " was 'Lena's reply, while Mrs. Graham continued, "Iam sorry I cannot extend my invitation to Miss Rivers, but ourcarriage will be full, and I cannot endure to be crowded. "

"It has carried six many a time, " said Durward, "and if she will go, I will take you on my lap, or anywhere. "

Of course 'Lena declined--he knew she would--and determined not to beoutwitted by his mother, whose aim he saw, he continued, "I shan'trelease you from your engagement to ride with me. We will startearly and get back before mother is up, so our excursion will in noway interfere with my driving her to Woodlawn after breakfast. "

Mrs. Graham was too polite to raise any further objection, butresolving not to leave them to finish their _tete-a-tete_, she threwherself upon one of the seats, and commenced talking to her son, while Carrie, burning with jealousy and vexation, started for thehouse, where she laid her grievances before her mother, who, equallyenraged, declared her intention of "hereafter watching the vixenpretty closely. "

"And she's going to ride with him to-morrow morning, you say. Well, I fancy I can prevent that. "

"How?" asked Carrie, eagerly, and her mother replied, "You know shealways rides Fleetfoot, which now, with the other horses, is in theGrattan woods, two miles away. Of course she'll order Caesar tobring him up to the stable, but I shall countermand that order, bidding him say nothing to her about it. He dare not disobey me, andwhen in the morning she asks for the pony, he can tell her just howit is. "

"Capital! capital!" exclaimed Carrie, never suspecting that there hadbeen a listener, even John Jr. , who all the while was sitting in theback parlor. 

"Whew!" thought the young man. "Plotting, are they? Well, I'll seehow good I am at counterplotting. "

So, slipping quietly out of the house, he went in quest of hisservant, Bill, telling him to go after Fleetfoot, whom he was to putin the lower stable instead of the one where she was usually kept;"and then in the morning, long before the sun is up, " said he, "doyou have her at the door for one of the young ladies to ride. "

"Yes, marster, " answered Bill, looking around for his old straw hat. 

"Now, see how quick you can go, " John Jr. Continued, adding as anincentive to haste, that if Bill would get the pony stabled beforeold Caesar, who had gone to Versailles, should return, he would givehim ten cents. 

Bill needed no other inducement than the promise of money, andwithout stopping to find his hat, he started off bare-headed, uponthe run, returning in the course of an hour and claiming his reward, as Caesar had not yet got home. 

"All right, " said John Jr. , tossing him the silver. "And nowremember to keep your tongue between your teeth. "

Bill had kept too many secrets for his young master to think oftattling about something which to him seemed of no consequencewhatever, and he walked off, eying his dime, and wishing he couldearn one so easily every day. 

Meantime John Jr. Sought out 'Lena, to whom he said, "And so you aregoing to ride to-morrow morning?"

"How did you know ?" she asked, and John, looking very wise, replied, that "little girls should not ask too many questions, " adding, thatas he supposed she would of course want Fleetfoot, he had orderedBill to have her at the door early in the morning. 

"Much obliged, " answered 'Lena. "I was about giving it up when Iheard the pony was in the Grattan woods, for Caesar is so cross Ihated to ask him to go for her; but now I'll say nothing to him aboutit. "

That night when Caesar was eating his supper in the kitchen, hismistress suddenly appeared, asking, "if he had received any orders togo for Fleetfoot. "

The old negro, who was naturally cross, began to scowl, "No, miss, and Lord knows I don't want to tote clar off to the Grattan woodsto-night. "

"You needn't, either, and if any one tells you to go don't you doit, " returned Mrs. Livingstone. 

"Somebody's playin' possum, that's sartin, " thought Bill, who waspresent, and began putting things together. "Somebody's playin'possum, but they don't catch this child leakin'. "

"Have you told him?" whispered Carrie, meeting her mother in the hall. 

Mrs. Livingstone nodded, adding in an undertone, that "she presumedthe ride was given up, as Lena had said nothing to Caesar about thepony. "

With her mind thus at ease, Carrie returned to the parlor, where shecommenced talking to Mrs. Graham of their projected visit toWoodlawn, dwelling upon it as if it had been a tour to Europe, andevidently exulting that 'Lena was to be left behind. 

CHAPTER XI. 

WOODLAWN. 

Next morning, long before the sun appeared above the eastern horizon, Fleetfoot, attended by Bill, stood before the door saddled andwaiting for its young rider, while near by it was Firelock, whichDurward had borrowed of John Jr. At last 'Lena appeared, and ifDurward had admired her beauty before, his admiration was now greatlyincreased when he saw how well she looked in her neatly fittingriding dress and tasteful straw hat. After bidding her good morning, he advanced to assist her in mounting, but declining his offer, shewith one bound sprang into the saddle, "Jumps like a toad, " said Bill. "Ain't stiff and clumsy like MissCarrie, who allus has to be done sot on. "

At a word from Durward they galloped briskly away, the clatter oftheir horses' hoofs arousing and bringing to the window Mrs. Graham, who had a suspicion of what was going on. Pushing aside the silkencurtain, she looked uneasily after them, wondering if in reality herson cared aught for the graceful creature at his side, and thinkingif he did, how hard she would labor to overcome his liking. Mrs. Graham was not the only one who watched them, for fearing lest Billshould not awake, John Jr. Had foregone his morning nap, himselfcalling up the negro, and now from his window he, too, looked afterthem until they entered upon the turnpike and were lost to view. Then, with some very complimentary reflections upon Lena's riding, hereturned to his pillow, thinking to himself, "There's a girl worthhaving. By Jove, if I'd never seen Nellie Douglass, and 'Lena wasn'tmy cousin, wouldn't I keep mother in the hysterics most of the time!"

On reaching the turnpike, Durward halted, while he asked 'Lena "whereshe wished to go. "

"Anywhere you please, " said she, when, for reasons of his own, heproposed that they should ride over to Woodlawn. 

'Lena was certainly excusable if she felt a secret feeling ofsatisfaction in thinking she was after all the first of the family tovisit Woodlawn, of which she had heard so much, that it seemed like aperfect Eldorado. It was a grand old building, standing on a crossroad about three miles from the turnpike, and commanding quite anextensive view of the country around. It was formerly owned by awealthy Englishman, who spent his winters in New Orleans and hissummers in the country. The year before he had died insolvent, Woodlawn falling into the hands of his creditors, who now offered itfor sale, together with the gorgeous furniture which still remainedjust as the family had left it. To the left of the building was alarge, handsome park, in which the former owner had kept a number ofdeer, and now as Durward and 'Lena rode up and down the shadedavenues, these graceful creatures would occasionally spring up andbound away with the fleetness of the wind. 

The garden and yard in front were laid out with perfect taste, theformer combining both the useful and the agreeable. A luxuriousgrape-vine wreathed itself over the arched entrance, while the wide, graveled walks were bordered, some with box, and others with choiceflowers, now choked and overgrown with weeds, but showing marks ofgreat beauty, when properly tended and cared for. At the extremityof the principal walk, which extended the entire length of thegarden, was a summer house, fitted up with everything which couldmake it attractive, during the sultry heat of summer, while fartheron through the little gate was a handsome grove or continuation ofthe park, with many well-beaten paths winding through it andterminating finally at the side of a tiny sheet of water, whichwithin a few years had forced itself through the limestone soilnatural to Kentucky. 

Owing to some old feud, the English family had not been on visitingterms with the Livingstones; consequently, 'Lena had never beforebeen at Woodlawn, and her admiration increased with every step, andwhen at last they entered the house and stood within the elegantdrawing-rooms, it knew no bounds. She remembered the time when shehad thought her uncle's furniture splendid beyond anything in theworld, but it could not compare with the magnificence around her, andfor a few moments she stood as if transfixed with astonishment. Durward had been highly amused at her enthusiastic remarks concerningthe grounds, and now noticing her silence, he asked "what was thematter?"

"Oh, I am half-afraid to speak, lest this beautiful room should provean illusion and fade away, " said she. 

"Is it then so much more beautiful than anything you ever sawbefore?" he asked; and she replied, "Oh, yes, far more so, " at thesame time giving him a laughable description of her amazement whenshe first saw the inside of her uncle's house, and ending by saying, "But you can imagine it all, for you saw me in the cars, and canjudge pretty well what were my ideas of the world. "

Wishing to see if 'Lena would attempt to conceal her former humblemode of living Durward said, "I have never heard anything concerningyour eastern home and how you lived there--will you please to tellme?"

"There's nothing to tell which will interest you, " answered 'Lena;but Durward thought there was, and leading her to a sofa, he bade hercommence. 

Durward had a peculiar way of making people do what he pleased, andnow at his bidding 'Lena told him of her mountain-home, with itslow-roof, bare walls, and oaken floors--of herself, when, abare-footed little girl, she picked _huckleberries_ with _JoelSlocum_! And then, in lower and more subdued tones, she spoke of hermother's grave in the valley, near which her beloved grandfather--theonly father she had ever known--was now sleeping. 'Lena never spokeof her grandfather without weeping. She could not help it. Hertears came naturally, as they did when first they told her he wasdead, and now laying her head upon the arm of the sofa, she sobbedlike a child. 

Durward's sympathies were all enlisted, and without stopping toconsider the propriety or impropriety of the act, he drew her gentlytoward him, trying to soothe her grief, calling her '_Lena_, andsmoothing back the curls which had fallen over her face. As soon aspossible 'Lena released herself from him, and drying her tears, proposed that they should go over the house, as it was nearly timefor them to return home. Accordingly, they passed on through roomafter room, 'Lena's quick eye taking in and appreciating everythingwhich she saw, while Durward was no less lost in admiration of her, for speaking of herself so frankly as she had done. Many youngladies, he well knew, would shrink from acknowledging that their homewas once in a brown, old-fashioned house among wild and ruggedmountains, and 'Lena's truthfulness in speaking not only of this, butmany similar things connected with her early history, inspired himwith a respect of her which he had never before felt for any younglady of his acquaintance. 

But little was said by either of them as they went over the house, until Durward, prompted by something, he could not resist suddenlyasked his companion "how she would like to be mistress of Woodlawn?"

Had it been Carrie to whom this question was put, she would haveblushed and simpered, expecting nothing short of an immediate offer, but 'Lena quickly replied, "Not at all, " laughingly giving as aninsuperable objection, "the size of the house and the number ofwindows she would have to wash!"

With a loud laugh Durward proposed that they should now return home, and again mounting their horses, they started for Maple Grove, whichthey reached just after the family had finished breakfast. With thefirst ring of the bell, John Jr. , eager not to lose an iota of whatmight occur, was at the table, and when his mother and Carrie, anxious at the non-appearance of Durward and 'Lena, cast wistfulglances toward each other, he very indifferently asked Mrs. Graham"if her son had returned from his ride. "

"I've not seen him, " answered the lady, her scowl deepening and herlower jaw dropping slightly, as it usually did when she was ill atease. 

"Who's gone to ride?" asked Mr. Graham; and John Jr. Replied thatDurward and 'Lena had been riding nearly two hours, adding, that"they must find each other exceedingly interesting to be gone solong. "

This last was for the express benefit of his mother, whose frown keptcompany with Mrs. Graham's scowl. Chopping her steak intomince-meat, and almost biting a piece from her cup as she sipped hercoffee, she at last found voice to ask, "what horse 'Lena rode!"

"Fleetfoot, of course, " said John Jr. , at the same time telling hisfather he thought "he ought to give 'Lena a pony of her own, for shewas accounted the best rider in the county, and Fleetfoot was gettingold and clumsy. "

The moment breakfast was over, Mrs. Livingstone went in quest ofCaesar, whom she abused for disobeying her orders, threatening himwith the calaboose, and anything else which came to her mind. OldCaesar was taken by surprise, and being rather slow of speech, wastrying to think of something to say, when John Jr. , who had followedhis mother, came to his aid, saying that "he himself had sent Billfor Fleetfoot, " and adding aside to his mother, that "the next timeshe and Cad were plotting mischief he'd advise them to see who was inthe back parlor!"

Always ready to suspect 'Lena of evil, Mrs. Livingstone immediatelysupposed it was she who had listened; but before she could frame areply, John Jr. Walked off, leaving her undecided whether to cowhideCaesar, 'Lena, or her son, the first of whom, taking advantage of thepause followed the example of his young master and stole away. Thetramp of horses' feet was now heard, and Mrs. Livingstone, mentallyresolving that Fleetfoot should be sold, repaired to the door in timeto see Durward carefully lift 'Lena from her pony and place her uponthe ground. Mrs. Graham, Carrie, and Annie were all standing uponthe piazza, and as 'Lena came up the walk, her eyes sparkling and herbright face glowing with exercise, Anna exclaimed, "Isn't shebeautiful?" at the same time asking her "where she had been. "

"To Woodlawn, " answered 'Lena. 

"To Woodlawn!" repeated Mrs. Graham. 

"To Woodlawn!" echoed Mrs. Livingstone, while Carrie brought up therear by exclaiming, "To Woodlawn! pray what took you there?"

"The pony, " answered 'Lena, as she passed into the house. 

Thinking it best to put Mrs. Graham on her guard, Mrs. Livingstonesaid to her, in a low tone, "I would advise you to keep an eye uponyour son, if he is at all susceptible, for there is no bound to'Lena's ambition. "

Mrs. Graham made no direct reply, but the flashing of her little grayeye was a sufficient answer, and satisfied with the result of hercaution, Mrs. Livingstone reentered the house. Two hours afterward, the carriage stood at the door waiting to convey the party toWoodlawn. It had been arranged that Mrs. Graham, Carrie, Anna, andDurward should ride in the carriage, while Mr. Graham went onhorseback. Purposely, Carrie loitered behind her companions, whobeing first, of course took the back seat, leaving her the privilegeof riding by the side of Durward. This was exactly what she wanted, and leaning back on her elbow, she complacently awaited his coming. But how was she chagrined, when, in his stead, appeared Mr. Graham, who sprang into the carriage and took a seat beside her; saying tohis wife's look of inquiry, that as John Jr. Had concluded to go, Durward preferred riding on horseback with him, adding, in hisusually polite way, "And I, you know, would always rather go with theladies. But where is Miss Rivers?" he continued. "Why isn't shehere?"

"Simply because she wasn't invited, I suppose, " returned his wife, detecting the disappointment in his face. 

"Not invited!" he repeated; "I didn't know as this trip was ofsufficient consequence to need a special invitation. I thought, ofcourse, she was here----"

"Or you would have gone on horseback, " said his wife, ever ready tocatch at straws. 

Mr. Graham saw the rising jealousy in time to repress the truthful:answer--"Yes"--while he compromised the matter by saying that "thepresence of three fair ladies ought to satisfy him. "

Carrie was too much disappointed even to smile, and during all theride she was extremely taciturn, hardly replying at all to Mr. Graham's lively sallies, and winning golden laurels in the opinion ofMrs. Graham, who secretly thought her husband altogether tooagreeable. As they turned into the long avenue which led toWoodlawn, and Carrie thought of the ride which 'Lena had enjoyedalone with its owner--for such was Durward reported to be--her heartswelled with bitterness toward her cousin, in whom she saw a dreadedrival. But when they reached the house, and Durward assisted her toalight, keeping at her side while they walked over the grounds, herjealousy vanished, and with her sweetest smile she looked up into hisface, affecting a world of childish simplicity, and making, as shebelieved, a very favorable impression. 

"I wonder if you are as much pleased with Woodlawn as your cousin, "said Durward, noticing that her mind seemed to be more intent onforeign subjects than the scenery around her. 

"Oh, no, I dare say not, " returned Carrie. "'Lena was neveraccustomed to anything until she came to Kentucky, and now I supposeshe thinks she must go into ecstacies over everything, though Isometimes wish she wouldn't betray her ignorance quite so often. "

"According to her description, her home in Massachusetts was widelydifferent from her present one, " said Durward, and Carrie quicklyreplied, "I wonder now if she bored you with an account of her formerhome! You must have been edified, and had a delightful ride, Ideclare. "

"And I assure you I never had a pleasanter one, for Miss Rivers is, Ithink, an exceedingly agreeable companion, " returned Durward, beginning to see the drift of her remarks. 

Here Mr. Graham called to his son, and excusing himself from Carrie, he did not again return to her until it was time to go home. Meantime, at Maple Grove, Mrs. Livingstone, in the worst possiblehumor, was finding fault with poor 'Lena, accusing her ofeavesdropping, and asking her if she did not begin to believe the oldadage, that listeners never heard any good of themselves. In perfectastonishment 'Lena demanded what she meant, saying she had never, toher knowledge, been guilty of listening. 

Without any explanation, whatever, Mrs. Livingstone declared herself"satisfied now, for a person who would listen and then deny it, wascapable of almost anything. "

"What do you mean, madam ?" said 'Lena, her temper getting theascendency. "Explain yourself, for no one shall accuse me of lyingwithout an attempt to prove it. "

With a sneer Mrs. Livingstone replied, "I wonder what you can do!Will you bring to your assistance some one of your numerous admirers?"

"Admirers! What admirers?" asked 'Lena, and her aunt replied, "I'llgive you credit for feigning the best of any one I ever saw, but youcan't deceive me. I know very well of your intrigues to entrap Mr. Bellmont. But it is not strange that you should inherit something ofyour mother's nature; and you know what she was!"

This was too much, and with eyes flashing fire through the glitteringtears, which shone like diamonds, 'Lena sprang to her feet, exclaiming, "Yes, I do know what she was. She was a far more worthywoman than you, and if in my presence you dare again breathe aughtagainst her name, you shall rue it----"

"That she shall, so help me heaven, " murmured a voice near, whichneither Mrs. Livingstone nor 'Lena heard, nor were they aware of anyone's presence until Mr. Graham suddenly appeared in the doorway. 

At his wife's request he had exchanged places with his son, andriding on before the rest, had reached home first, being just in timeto overhear the last part of the conversation between Mrs. Livingstone and 'Lena. Instantly changing her manner, Mrs. Livingstone motioned her niece from the room, heaving a deep sigh asthe door closed after her, and saying that "none but those who hadtried it knew what a thankless job it was to rear the offspring ofothers. "

There was a peculiar look in Mr. Graham's eyes, as he answered, "Inyour case I will gladly relieve you, if my wife is willing. I havetaken a great fancy to Miss Rivers, and would like to adopt her as mydaughter. I will speak to Mrs. Graham to-night. "

Much as she disliked 'Lena, Mrs. Livingstone would not for the worldhave her become an inmate of Mr. Graham's family, where she would beconstantly thrown in Durward's way; and immediately changing hertactics, she replied, "I thank you for your kind offer, but I know myhusband would not think of such a thing; neither should I be quitewilling for her to leave us, much as she troubles me. "

Mr. Graham bowed stiffly, and left the house. That night, after hehad retired to his room, he seemed unusually distracted, pacing upand down the apartment, occasionally pausing to gaze out into themoonlit sky, and then resuming his measured tread. At last nervinghimself to brave the difficulty, he stopped before his wife, to whomhe made known his plan of adopting 'Lena. 

"It seems hasty, I know, " said he, "but she is just the kind ofperson I would like to have round--just such a one as I would wish mydaughter to be if I had one. In short, I like her, and with yourconsent I will adopt her as my own, and take her from this placewhere I know she's not wanted. What say you, Lucy?"

"Will you adopt the old woman too?" asked Mrs. Graham, whose face wasturned away so as to hide its expression. 

"That is an after consideration, " returned her husband, "but if youare willing, I will either take her to our home, or provide for herelsewhere--but come, what do you say?"

All this time Mrs. Graham had sat bolt upright, her little dumplinghands folded one within the other, the long transparent nails makingdeep indentures in the soft flesh, and her gray eyes emitting _green_gleams of scorn. The answer her husband sought came at length, andwas characteristic of the woman. Hissing out the words from betweenher teeth, she replied, "When I take 'Lena Rivers into my family formy husband and son to make love to, alternately, I shall be ready forthe lunatic asylum at Lexington. "

"And what objection have you to her?" asked Mr. Graham; to which hiswife replied, "The very fact, sir, that you wish it, is a sufficientreason why I will not have her; besides that, you must misjudge mestrangely if you think I'd be willing for my son to come daily incontact with a girl of her doubtful parentage. "

"What know you of her parentage?" said Mr. Graham, his lips turningslightly pale. 

"Yes, what do I know?" answered his wife. "Her father, if she hasany, is a rascal, a villain----"

"Yes, yes, all of that, " muttered Mr. Graham, while his wifecontinued, "And her mother a poor, low, mean, ignorant----"

"Hold!" thundered Mr. Graham. "You shall not speak so of any womanof whom you know nothing, much less of 'Lena Rivers' mother. "

"And pray what do you know of her--is she an old acquaintance?" askedMrs. Graham, throwing into her manner as much of insolence aspossible. 

"I know, " returned Mr. Graham, "that 'Lena's mother could be nothingelse than respectable. "

"Undoubtedly; but of this be assured--the daughter shall never, by mypermission, darken my doors, " said Mrs. Graham, growing more and moreexcited, and continuing--"I know you of old, Harry Graham; and I knownow that your great desire to secure Woodlawn was so as to be nearher, but it shan't be. "

In her excitement, Mrs. Graham forgot that it was herself who hadfirst suggested Woodlawn as a residence, and that until within a dayor two her husband and 'Lena were entire strangers. But this made nodifference. She was bent upon being unreasonable, and for nearly anhour she fretted and cried, declaring herself the most abused of hersex, and wishing she had never seen her husband, who, in his heart, warmly seconded that wish, wisely resolving not to mention theoffending 'Lena again in the presence of his wife. 

The next day the bargain for Woodlawn was completed; after which, Mr. And Mrs. Graham, together with Durward, returned to Louisville, intending to take possession of their new home about the first ofOctober. 

CHAPTER XII. 

MRS. GRAHAM AT HOME. 

As the summer advanced, extensive preparations were commenced forrepairing Woodlawn, which was to be fitted up in a style suited tothe luxurious taste of its rightful owner, which, as report said, wasin reality Durward. He had conceived a fancy for the place fiveyears before, when visiting in the neighborhood, and on learning thatit was for sale, he had purchased it, at the suggestion of hismother, proposing to his father that for a time, at least, he shouldbe its nominal possessor. What reason he had for this he hardly knewhimself, unless it was that he disliked being flattered as a man ofgreat wealth, choosing rather to be esteemed for what he really was. 

And, indeed, few of his age were more generally beloved than was he. Courteous, kind-hearted, and generous almost to a fault, he gainedfriends wherever he went, and it was with some reason that Mrs. Graham thought herself blessed above mothers, in the possession ofsuch a son. "He is so like me, " she would say, in speaking of hismany virtues, when, in fact, there was scarcely anything in commonbetween them, for nearly all of Durward's sterling qualities wereeither inherited from his own father, or the result of many years'companionship with his stepfather. Possessed of the most exquisitetaste, he exercised it in the arrangement of Woodlawn, which, underhis skillful management, began in a few weeks to assume a morebeautiful appearance than it had ever before worn. 

Once in two weeks either Mr. Graham or Durward came out to see howmatters were progressing, the latter usually accepting Mrs. Livingstone's pressing invitation to make her house his home. Thishe was the more willing to do, as it threw him into the society of'Lena, who was fast becoming an object of absorbing interest to him. The more he saw of her, the more was his admiration increased, andoftentimes, when joked concerning his preference for Carrie, hesmiled to think how people were deceived, determining, however, tokeep his own secret until such time as he should be convinced that'Lena was all he could desire in a wife. For her poverty and humblebirth he cared nothing. If she were poor, he was rich, and hepossessed too much good sense to deem himself better than she, because the blood of a nobleman flowed in his veins. He knew thatshe was highly gifted and beautiful, and could he be assured that shewas equally true-hearted, he would not hesitate a moment. 

But Mrs. Livingstone's insinuation that she was a heartless coquette, troubled him, and though he could not believe it without more proofthan he had yet received, he determined to wait and watch, studyingher character, the while, to see if there was in her aught of evil. In this state of affairs, it was hardly more than natural that hismanner toward her should be rather more reserved than that which heassumed toward Carrie, for whom he cared nothing, and with whom hetalked laughed, and rode, forgetting her the moment she was out ofhis sight, and never suspecting how much importance she attached tohis every word and look, construing into tokens of admiration themost casual remark, such as he would utter to any one. This was ofadvantage to 'Lena, for, secure of their prize, both Mrs. Livingstoneand Carrie, for a time, at least, ceased to persecute her, seldomspeaking of her in Durward's presence, and, as a general thing, acting as though she were not in existence. 

John Jr. , too, who had imposed upon himself the duty of watching hismother and sister, seeing no signs of hostility, now withdrew hisespionage, amusing himself, instead, by galloping three times a weekover to Frankfort, the home of Nellie Douglass, and by keeping an eyeupon Captain Atherton, who, as a spider would watch a fly, was lyingin wait for the unsuspecting Anna. 

At last all was in readiness at Woodlawn for the reception of Mrs. Graham, who came up early in October, bringing with her a largertrain of house servants than was often seen in Woodford county. About three weeks after her arrival, invitations were issued for aparty or "house warming, " as the negroes termed it. Nero, Durward'svalet, brought the tiny notes to Mr. Livingstone's, giving them intothe care of Carrie, who took them immediately to her mother's room. 

"It's Durward's handwriting, " said she, glancing at thesuperscriptions, and reading as she did so--"Mr. And Mrs. Livingstone"--"Mr. John Livingstone, Jr. "--"Miss CarrieLivingstone"--"Miss Anna Livingstone"--"_Miss 'Lena Rivers_;" andhere she stopped, in utter dismay, continuing, as her mother lookedup inquiringly--"And as I live, one for _grandma_--'MRS. MARTHANICHOLS!'"

"Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, reaching out her hand forthe billet. "Yes, 'tis Mrs. Martha Nichols!--what can it mean?"

A peep behind the scenes would have told her what it meant. For oncein his life Mr. Graham had exercised the right of being master in hisown house, declaring that if Mrs. Nichols were not invited with thefamily, there should be no party at all. Mrs. Graham saw that he wasin earnest, and yielded the point, knowing that in all probabilitythe old lady would not be permitted to attend. Her husband hadexpected a like opposition with regard to 'Lena, but he wasdisappointed, for his wife, forgetting her declaration that 'Lenashould never darken her doors and thinking it would not do to slighther, consented that, on her uncle's account, she should be invited. Accordingly, the notes were despatched, producing the effect we haveseen. 

"How perfectly ridiculous to invite grandma!" said Carrie. "It's badenough to have 'Lena stuck in with us, for of course _she'll_ go. "

"Why of course?" asked Mrs. Livingstone. "The invitations are at mydisposal now; and if I choose to withhold two of them, no one will beblamed but Nero, who was careless and dropped them! 'Lena hasnothing decent to wear, and I don't feel like expending much more fora person so ungrateful as she is. You ought to have heard howimpudent she was that time you all went to Woodlawn. "

Then followed a one-sided description of that morning's occurrence, Mrs. Livingstone working herself up to such a pitch of excitement, that before her recital was finished, she had determined at allevents to keep back 'Lena's invitation, as a method of punishing herfor her "insolence, " as she termed it. 

"Mrs. Graham will thank me for it, I know, " said she, "for she cannotendure her; and besides that, I don't think 'Lena expects to beinvited, so there's no harm done. "

Carrie was not yet quite so hardened as her mother, and for a momenther better nature shrank from so mean a transaction, which might, after all, be found out, involving them in a still worse difficulty;but as the thought flashed upon her that possibly 'Lena might againattract Durward toward her, she assented, and they were about puttingthe notes aside, when John Jr. Came in, catching up hisgrandmother's note the first thing, and exclaiming, "Oh, _rich_!--_capital_! I hope she'll go!" Then, before his mother couldinterpose a word, he darted away in quest of Mrs. Nichols, whosesurprise was fully equal to that of Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie. 

"Now, you don't say I've got an invite, " said she, leaving thedarning-needle in the stocking-heel which she was mending, and wipingher steel-bowed spectacles. "Come, 'Leny, you read it, that's a goodgirl. "

'Lena complied, and taking the note from her cousin's hand, read thatMrs. Graham would be at home Thursday evening, etc. 

"But where's the invite? That don't say anything about _me_!" saidMrs. Nichols, beginning to fear that it was a humbug after all. 

As well as they could, 'Lena and John Jr. Explained it to her, andthen, fully convinced that she was really invited, Mrs. Nichols beganto wonder what she should wear, and how she should go, asking John"if he couldn't tackle up and carry her in the shay, " as she calledthe single buggy. 

"Certainly, " answered John Jr. Willing to do anything for the sakeof the fun which he knew would ensue from his grandmother'sattendance. 

'Lena thought otherwise, for much as she desired to gratify hergrandmother, she would not for the world expose her to the ridiculewhich her appearance at a fashionable party would call forth. Glancing reprovingly at her cousin, she said, "I wouldn't think ofgoing, grandma, for you are lame and old, and there'll be so manypeople there, all strangers, too, that you won't enjoy it at all. Besides that, we'll have a nice time at home together---I'll read toyou all the evening. "

"_We_, " repeated John Jr. "Pray, are you not going?"

"Not without an invitation, " said 'Lena smilingly. 

"True, true, " returned her cousin. "It's downstairs, I dare say. Ionly stopped to look at this. I'll go and get yours now. "

Suiting the action to the word, he descended to his mother's room, asking for "'Lena's card. "

"'Lena's card! What do you mean?" said Mrs. Livingstone, looking upfrom the book she was reading, while Carrie for a moment suspendedher needle-work. 

"'Lena's invitation; you know well enough what I mean, " returned JohnJr. , tumbling over the notes which lay upon the table, and failing tofind the one for which he was seeking. 

"You'll have to ask Mrs. Graham for it, I presume, as it's not here, "was Mrs. Livingstone's quiet answer. 

"Thunder!" roared John Jr. , "'Lena not invited! That's a smartcaper. But there's some mistake about it, I know. Who brought them?"

"Nero brought them, " said Carrie, "and I think it is strange thatgrandmother should be invited and 'Lena left out. But I suppose Mrs. Graham has her reasons. She don't seem to fancy 'Lena much. "

"Mrs. Graham go to grass, " muttered John Jr. , leaving the room andslamming the door after him with great violence. 

'Twas a pity he did not look in one of the drawers of his mother'swork-box, for there, safe and sound, lay the missing note! But hedid not think of that. He only knew that 'Lena was slighted, and forthe next two hours he raved and fretted, sometimes declaring he wouldnot go, and again wishing Mrs. Graham in a temperature but littlesuited to her round, fat proportions. 

"Wall, if they feel too big to invite 'Leny, they needn't expect tosee me there, that's just all there is about it, " said grandma, settling herself in her rocking-chair, and telling 'Lena "shewouldn't care an atom if she's in her place. "

But 'Lena did care. No one likes to be slighted, and she was not anexception to the general rule. Owing to her aunt's skillfulmanagement she had never yet attended a large party, and it was butnatural that she should now wish to go. But it could not be, and shewas obliged to content herself with the hopes of a minute descriptionfrom Anna; Carrie she would not trust, for she well knew thatwhatever she told would be greatly exaggerated. 

Mrs. Graham undoubtedly wished to give her friends ample time toprepare, for her invitations were issued nearly a week in advance. This suited Carrie, who had a longer time to decide upon what wouldbe becoming, and when at last a decision was made, she could donothing but talk about her dress, which really was beautiful, consisting of a pink and white silk, with an over-skirt of soft, richlace. This, after it was completed, was tried on at least half adozen times, and the effect carefully studied before the long mirror. Anna, who cared much less for dress than her sister, decided upon ablack flounced skirt and velvet basque. This was Mr. Everett'staste, and whatever suited him suited her. 

"I do think it's too bad that 'Lena is not invited, " said she oneday, when Carrie, as usual, was discussing the party. "She wouldenjoy it so much. I don't understand, either, why she is omitted, for Mr. Graham seemed to like her, and Durward too----"

"A great ways off, you mean, " interrupted Carrie. "For my part, Isee nothing strange in the omission. It is no worse to leave her outthan scores of others who will not be invited. "

"But to come into the house and ask all but her, " said Anna. "Itdoes not seem right. She is as good as we are. "

"That's as people think, " returned Carrie, while John Jr. , who wasjust going out to ride, and had stopped a moment at the door, exclaimed, "Zounds, Cad, I wonder if you fancy yourself better than'Lena Rivers. If you do, you are the only one that thinks so. Why, you can't begin to compare with her, and it's a confounded shame thatshe isn't invited, and so I shall tell them if I have a good chance. "

"You'll look smart fishing for an invitation, won't you?" saidCarrie, her fears instantly aroused, but John Jr. Was out of herhearing almost before the words were uttered. 

Mounting Firelock, he started off for Versailles, falling in withDurward, who was bound for the same place. After the usual greetingswere exchanged, Durward said, "I suppose you are all coming onThursday night?"

"Yes, " returned John Jr. , "I believe the old folks, Cad, and Annaintend doing so. "

"But where's Miss Rivers? Doesn't she honor us with her presence?"asked Durward, in some concern. 

John Jr. 's first impulse, as he afterwards said, was "to knock himoff from his horse, " but a second thought convinced him there mightbe some mistake; so he replied that "it was hardly to be supposedMiss Rivers would attend without an invitation--she wasn't quite soverdant as that!"

"Without an invitation!" repeated Durward, stopping short in theroad. "'Lena not invited! It isn't so! I directed one to hermyself, and gave it to Nero, together with the rest which weredesigned for your family. He must have lost it. I'll ask him themoment I get home, and see that it is all made right. She must come, any way, for I wouldn't give----"

Here he stopped, as if he had said too much, but John Jr. Finishedthe sentence for him. 

"Wouldn't give a picayune for the whole affair without her--that'swhat you mean, and why not say so? I speak right out about Nellie, and she isn't one half as handsome as 'Lena. "

"It isn't 'Lena's beauty that I admire altogether, " returned Durward. "I like her for her frankness, and because I think her conduct isactuated by the best of principles; perhaps I am mistaken----"

"No, you are not, " again interrupted John Jr. , "'Lena is just whatshe seems to be. There's no deception in her. She isn't one thingto-day and another to-morrow. Spunky as the old Nick, you know, butstill she governs her temper admirably, and between you and me, Iknow I'm a better man than I should have been had she never come tolive with us. How well I remember the first time I saw her, " hecontinued, repeating to Durward the particulars of their interview inLexington, and describing her introduction to his sisters. "From themoment she refused to tell that lie for me, I liked her, " said he, "and when she dealt me that blow in my face, my admiration wascomplete. "

Durward thought he could dispense with the blow, but he laughedheartily at John's description of his spirited cousin, thinking, too, how different was his opinion of her from that which his motherevidently entertained. Still, if Mrs. Livingstone was prejudiced, John Jr. Might also be somewhat biased, so he would not yet make uphis mind; but on one thing he was resolved--she should be invited, and for fear of contingencies, he would carry the card himself. 

Accordingly, on his return home, Nero was closely questioned, andnegro-like, called down all manner of evil upon himself "if he donedrapped the note any whar. 'Strue as I live and breathe, Mas'rBellmont, " said he, "I done carried Miss 'Leny's invite with therest, and guv 'em all to the young lady with the big nose!"

Had Durward understood Mrs. Livingstone a little better, he mighthave believed him; but now it was but natural for him to suppose thatNero had accidentally dropped it. So he wrote another, taking ithimself, and asking for "Miss Rivers. " Carrie, who was in the parlorand saw him coming up to the house, instantly flew to the glass, smoothing her collar, puffing out her hair a little more, pinchingher cheek, which was not quite so red as usual, and wishing that shewas alone. But unfortunately, both Anna and 'Lena were present, andas there was no means of being rid of them, she retained her seat atthe piano, carelessly turning over the leaves of her music book, whenthe door opened and Corinda, not Durward, appeared. 

"If you please, Miss 'Lena, " said the girl, "Marster Bellmont want tospeak with you in the hall. "

"With 'Lena! How funny!" exclaimed Carrie. "Are you sure it was'Lena?"

"Yes, sure--he done ask for Miss Rivers. "

"Ask him in, why don't you?" said Carrie, suspecting his errand, andthinking to keep herself from all suspicion by appearing "wonderfullypleased" that 'Lena was not intentionally neglected. Before Corindacould reply, 'Lena had stepped into the hall, and was standing faceto face with Durward, who retained her hand, while he asked if "shereally believed they, intended to slight her, " at the same timeexplaining how it came to his knowledge, and saying "he hoped shewould not fail to attend. "

'Lena hesitated, but he pressed her so hard, saying he should surelythink she distrusted them if she refused, that she finally consented, and he took his leave, playfully threatening to come for her himselfif she were not there with the rest. 

"You feel better, now, don't you ?" said Carrie with a sneer, as'Lena re-entered the parlor. 

"Yes, a great deal, " was 'Lena's truthful answer. 

"Oh, I'm real glad!" exclaimed Anna. "I most knew 'twas a mistakeall the time, and I did so want you to go. What will you wear? Letme see. Why, you haven't got anything suitable, have you?"

This was true, for 'Lena had nothing fit for the occasion, and shewas beginning to wish she had not been invited, when her uncle camein, and to him Anna forthwith stated the case, saying 'Lena must havea new dress, and suggesting embroidered muslin. 

"How ridiculous!" muttered Carrie, thrumming away at the piano. "There's no time to make dresses now. They should have invited herearlier. "

"Isn't Miss Simpson still here?" asked her father. 

Anna replied that she was, and then turning to 'Lena, Mr. Livingstoneasked if "she wanted to go very much. "

The tears which shone in her eyes were a sufficient answer, and whenat supper that night, inquiry was made for Mr. Livingstone, it wassaid that he had gone to Frankfort. 

"To Frankfort!" repeated his wife. "What has he gone there for?"

No one knew until late in the evening, when he returned home, bringing with him 'Lena's dress, which Anna pronounced "the sweetestthing she ever saw, " at the same time running with it to her cousin. There was company in the parlor, which for a time kept down thegathering storm in Mrs. Livingstone's face, but the moment they weregone, and she was alone with her husband in their room, it burstforth, and in angry tones she demanded "what he meant by spending hermoney in that way, and without her consent?"

Before making any reply, Mr. Livingstone stepped to her work-box, andopening the little drawer, held to view the missing note. Thenturning to his wife, whose face was very pale, he said, "This morningI made a discovery which exonerates Nero from all blame. Iunderstand it fully, and while I knew you were capable of almostanything, I must say I did not think you would be guilty of quite somean an act. Stay, " he continued, as he saw her about to speak, "youare my wife, and as 'Lena is at last invited, your secret is safe, but remember, it must not be repeated. You understand me, do you?"

Mrs. Livingstone was struck dumb with mortification andastonishment--the first, that she was detected, and the last, thather husband dare assume such language toward her. But he had her inhis power--she knew that--and for a time it rendered her very docile, causing her to consult with Miss Simpson concerning the fitting of'Lena's dress, herself standing by when it was done, and suggestingone or two improvements, until 'Lena, perfectly bewildered, wonderedwhat had come over her aunt, that she should be so unusually kind. Carrie, too, learning from her mother how matters stood, thoughtproper to change her manner, and while in her heart she hopedsomething would occur to keep 'Lena at home, she loudly expressed herpleasure that she was going, offering to lend her several littleornaments, and doing many things which puzzled 'Lena, who readily sawthat she was feigning what she did not feel. 

Meanwhile, grandma, learning that 'Lena was invited, declared herintention of going. "I shouldn't of gin up in the first on't, " saidshe, "only I wanted to show 'em proper resentment; but now it'sdifferent, and I'll go, anyway--'Tilda may say what she's a mind to. "

It was in vain that 'Lena reasoned the case. Grandma was decided, and it was not until both her son and daughter interfered, the oneadvising and the other commanding her to stay at home, that sheyielded with a burst of tears, for grandma was now in her secondchildhood, and easily moved. It was terrible to 'Lena to see hergrandmother weep, and twining her arms around her neck, she tried tosoothe her, saying, "she would willingly stay at home with her if shewished it. "

Mrs. Nichols was not selfish enough to suffer this. "No, 'Leny, "said she, "I want you to go and enjoy yourself while you are young, for you'll sometime be old and in the way;" and the old creaturecovered her face with her shriveled hands and wept. 

But she was of too cheerful a nature long to remember grief, anddrying her tears, she soon forgot her trouble in the pride andsatisfaction which she felt when she saw how well the white muslinbecame 'Lena, who, John Jr. , said, never looked so beautifully as shedid when arrayed for the party. Mr. Livingstone had not been sparingof his money when he purchased the party dress, which was a richlyembroidered muslin, and fell in soft folds around 'Lena's gracefulfigure. Her long flowing curls were intertwined with a few naturalflowers, her only attempt at ornament of any kind, and, indeed, ornaments would have been sadly out of place on 'Lena'. 

It was between nine and ten when the party from Maple Grove reachedWoodlawn, where they found a large company assembled, some in thedrawing-rooms below, and others still lingering at the toilet in thedressing chamber. Among these last were Nellie Douglass and MabelRoss, the latter of whom Mrs. Livingstone was perfectly delighted tosee, overwhelming her with caresses, and urging her to stop forawhile at Maple Grove. 

"I shall be so glad to have you with us, and the country air will doyou so much good, that you must not refuse, " said she, pinchingMabel's sallow cheek, and stroking her straight, glossy hair, which, in contrast with the bandeau of pearls that she wore, looked dark asmidnight. 

Spite of her wealth, Mabel had long been accustomed to neglect, andthere was something so kind in Mrs. Livingstone's _motherly_demeanor, that the heart of the young orphan warmed toward her, andtears glittered in her large, mournful eyes, the only beauty, saveher hair, of which she could boast. Very few had ever cared for poorMabel, who, though warm-hearted and affectionate, required to beknown in order to be appreciated, and as she was naturally shy andretiring, there were not many who felt at all acquainted with her. Left alone in the world at a very early age, she had never known whatit was to possess a real, disinterested friend, unless we exceptNellie Douglass, who, while there was nothing congenial between them, had always tried to treat Mabel as she herself would wish to betreated, were she in like circumstances. 

Many had professed friendship for the sake of the gain which theyknew would accrue, for she was generous to a fault, bestowing with alavish hand upon those whom she loved, and who had too often provedfalse, denouncing her as utterly spiritless and insipid. So oftenhad she been deceived, that now, at the age of eighteen, she hadlearned to distrust her fellow creatures, and oftentimes in secretwould she weep bitterly over her lonely condition, lamenting theplain face and unattractive manners, which she fancied rendered heran object of dislike. Still there was about her a depth of feelingof which none had ever dreamed, and it only required a skillful handto mold her into an altogether different being. She was, perhaps, too easily influenced, for in spite of her distrust, a pleasant wordor kind look would win her to almost anything. 

Of this weakness Mrs. Livingstone seemed well aware, and for thebetter accomplishment of her plan, she deemed it necessary that Mabelshould believe her to be the best friend she had in the world. Accordingly, she now flattered and petted her, calling her "darling, "and "dearest, " and urging her to stop at Maple Grove, until sheconsented, "provided Nellie Douglas were willing. "

"Oh, I don't care, " answered Nellie, whose gay, dashing dispositionpoorly accorded with the listless, sickly Mabel, and who felt itrather a relief than otherwise to be rid of her. 

So it was decided that she should stay at Maple Grove, and then Mrs. Livingstone, passing her arm around her waist, whispered, "Go downwith me, " at the same time starting for the parlor, followed by herdaughters, Nellie, and 'Lena. In the hall they met with John Jr. Hehad heard Nellie's voice, and stationing himself at the head of thestairs, was waiting her appearance. 

"Miss Ross, " said Mrs. Livingstone to her son, at the same timeindicating her willingness to give her into his care. 

But John Jr. Would not take the hint. Bowing stiffly to Mabel, hepassed on toward Nellie, in his eagerness stepping on Carrie's trainand drawing from her an exclamation of anger at his awkwardness. Mrs. Livingstone glanced backward just in time to see the look ofaffection with which her son regarded Nellie, as she placed her softhand confidingly upon his arm, and gazed upward smilingly into hisface. She dared not slight Miss Douglass in public, but with amental invective against her, she drew Mabel closer to her side, andsmoothing down the heavy folds of her _moire antique_, entered thedrawing-room, which was brilliantly lighted, and filled with thebeauty and fashion of Lexington, Frankfort, and Versailles. 

At the door they met Durward, who, as he took 'Lena's hand, said, "Itis well you remembered your promise, for I was about starting afteryou. " This observation did not escape Mrs. Livingstone, who, besideshaving her son and Nellie under her special cognizance, had also aneye upon her niece and Anna. Her espionage of the latter, however, was not needed immediately, owing to her being straightwayappropriated by Captain Atherton, who, in dainty white kids, and vestto match (the color not the material), strutted back and forth withAnna tucked under his arm, until the poor girl was ready to cry withvexation. 

When the guests had nearly all arrived, both Mr. Graham and Durwardstarted for 'Lena, the latter reaching her first, and paying her somany little attentions, that the curiosity of others was aroused, andfrequently was the question asked, "Who is she, the beautiful younglady in white muslin and curls?"

Nothing of all this escaped Mrs. Livingstone, and once, in passingnear her niece, she managed to whisper, "For heaven's sake don't showyour ignorance of etiquette by taxing Mr. Bellmont's good nature anylonger. It's very improper to claim any one's attention so long, andyou are calling forth remarks. "

Then quickly changing the whisper into her softest tones, she said toDurward, "How _can_ you resist such beseeching glances as thoseladies send toward you?" nodding to a group of girls of which Carriewas one. 

'Lena colored scarlet, and gazed wistfully around the room in questof some other shelter when Durward should relinquish her, as she felthe would surely do, but none presented itself. Her uncle was playingthe agreeable to Miss Atherton, Mr. Graham to some other lady, whileJohn Jr. Kept closely at Nellie's side, forgetful of all else. 

"What shall I do?" said 'Lena, unconsciously and half aloud. 

"Stay with me, " answered Durward, drawing her hand further within hisarm, and bending upon her a look of admiration which she could notmistake. 

Several times they passed and repassed Mrs. Graham, who was highlyincensed at her son's proceedings, and at last actually asked him "ifhe did not intend noticing anyone except Miss Rivers, " adding, as anapology for her rudeness (for Mrs. Graham prided herself upon beingvery polite in her own house), "she has charms enough to win a dozengallants, but there are others here who need attention from you. There's Miss Livingstone, you've hardly spoken with her to-night. "

Thus importuned, Durward released 'Lena and walked away, attachinghimself to Carrie, who clung to him closer, if possible, than did theold captain to Anna. About this time Mr. Everett came. He had beennecessarily detained, and now, after paying his respects to the hostand hostess, he started in quest of Anna, who was still held "indurance vile" by the captain. But the moment she saw Malcolm, sheuttered a low exclamation of joy, and without a single apology, brokeabruptly away from her ancient cavalier, whose little watery eyeslooked daggers after her for an instant; then consoling himself withthe reflection that he was tolerably sure of her, do what she would, he walked up to her mother, kindly relieving her for a time of hercharge, who was becoming rather tiresome. Frequently, by nods, winks, and frowns, had Mrs. Livingstone tried to bring her son to asense of his improper conduct in devoting himself exclusively to oneindividual, and neglecting all others. 

But her efforts were all in vain. John Jr. Was incorrigible, slylywhispering to Nellie, that "he had no idea of beauing a medicinechest. " This he said, referring to Mabel's ill health, for among hisother oddities, John Jr. Had a particular aversion to sickly ladies. Of course Nellie reproved him for his unkind remarks, at the sametime warmly defending Mabel, "who, " she said, "had been delicate frominfancy, and suffered far more than was generally suspected. "

"Let her stay at home, then, " was John Jr. 's answer, as he led Nellietoward the supper-room, which the company were just then entering. 

About an hour after supper the guests began to leave, Mrs. Livingstone being the first to propose going. As she was ascendingthe stairs, John Jr. Observed that Mabel was with her, and turning to'Lena, who now leaned on his arm, he said, "There goes the futureMrs. John Jr. --so mother thinks!"

"Where?" asked 'Lena, looking around. 

"Why, there, " continued John, pointing toward Mabel. "Haven't younoticed with what parental solicitude mother watches over her?"

"I saw them together, " answered 'Lena, "and I thought it very kind inmy aunt, for no one else seemed to notice her, and I felt sorry forher. She is going home with us, I believe. ", "Going home with _us_!" repeated John Jr. "In the name of thepeople, what is she going home with us for?"

"Why, " returned 'Lena, "your mother thinks the country air will doher good. "

"_Un_-doubtedly, " said John, with a sneer. "Mother's motives areusually very disinterested. I wonder she don't propose to the oldcaptain to take up _his_ quarters with us, so she can nurse him!"

With this state of feeling, it was hardly natural that John Jr. Should be very polite toward Mabel, and when his mother asked him tohelp her into the carriage, he complied so ungraciously, that Mabelobserved it, and looked wonderingly at her _patroness_ for anexplanation. 

"Only one of his freaks, love--he'll get over it, " said Mrs. Livingstone, while poor Mabel, sinking back amoung the cushions, weptsilently, thinking that everybody hated her. 

When 'Lena came down to bid her host and hostess good-night, theformer retained her hand, while he expressed his sorrow at herleaving so soon. "I meant to have seen more of you, " said he, "butyou must visit us often--will you not?"

Neither the action nor the words escaped Mrs. Graham's observation, and the lecture which she that night read her offending spouse, hadthe effect to keep him awake until the morning was growing gray inthe east. Then, when he was asleep, he so far forgot himself and thewide-open ears beside him as actually to breathe the name of 'Lena inhis dreams!

Mrs. Graham needed no farther confirmation of her suspicions, and atthe breakfast-table next morning, she gave her son a lengthenedaccount of her husband's great sin in dreaming of a young girl, andthat girl 'Lena Rivers. Durward laughed heartily and then, either totease his mother, or to make his father's guilt less heinous in hereyes, he replied, "It is a little singular that our minds should runin the same channel, for, I, too, dreamed of 'Lena Rivers!"

Poor Mrs. Graham. A double task was now imposed upon her--that ofwatching both husband and son; but she was accustomed to it, for herlife, since her second marriage, had been one continued series ofwatching for evil where there was none. And now, with a growinghatred toward 'Lena, she determined to increase her vigilance, feeling sure she should discover something if she only continuedfaithful to the end. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

MABEL. 

The morning following the party, Mr. Livingstone's family wereassembled in the parlor, discussing the various events of theprevious night. John Jr. , 'Lena, and Anna declared themselves tohave been highly pleased with everything, while Carrie in the worstof humors, pronounced it "a perfect bore, " saying she never had sodisagreeable a time in all her life, and ending her ill-naturedremarks by a malicious thrust at 'Lena, for having so long kept Mr. Bellmont at her side. 

"I suppose you fancy he would have looked better with you, but Ithink he showed his good taste by preferring 'Lena, " said John Jr. ;then turning toward the large easy-chair, where Mabel sat, pale, weary, and spiritless, he asked "how she had enjoyed herself. "

With the exception of his accustomed "good-morning, " this was thefirst time he had that day addressed her, and it was so unexpected, that it brought a bright glow to her cheek, making John Jr. Think shewas "not so horribly ugly after all. "

But she was very unfortunate in her answer, which was, "that onaccount of her ill health, she seldom enjoyed anything of the kind. "Then pressing her hand upon her forehead, she continued, "My head isaching dreadfully, as a punishment for last night's dissipation. "

Three times before, he had heard her speak of her aching head, andnow, with an impatient gesture, he was turning away, when his mothersaid, "Poor girl, she really looks miserable. I think a ride woulddo her good. Suppose you take her with you--I heard you say you weregoing to Versailles. "

If there was anything in which Mabel excelled, it was horsemanship, she being a better rider, if possible; than 'Lena, and now, at Mrs. Livingstone's proposition, she looked up eagerly at John Jr. , whoreplied, "Oh, hang it all! mother, I can't always be bothered with a girl;"then as he saw how Mabel's countenance fell, he continued, "Let 'Lenaride with her--she wants to, I know. "

"Certainly, " said 'Lena, whose heart warmed toward the orphan girl, partly because she was an orphan, and partly because she saw that shewas neglected and unloved. 

As yet Mabel cared nothing for John Jr. , nor even suspected hismother's object in detaining her as a guest. So when 'Lena wasproposed as a substitute she seemed equally well pleased, and theyoung man, as he walked off to order the ponies, mentally termedhimself a bear for his rudeness; "for after all, " thought he, "it'smother who has designs upon me, not Mabel. She isn't to blame. "

This opinion once satisfactorily settled, it was strange how soonJohn Jr. Began to be sociable with Mabel, finding her much moreagreeable than he had at first supposed, and even acknowledging to'Lena that "she was a good deal of a girl, after all, were it not forher everlasting headaches and the smell of medicine, " which hedeclared she always carried about with her. 

"Hush-sh, " said 'Lena--"you shan't talk so, for she is sick a greatdeal, and she does not feign it, either. "

"Perhaps not, " returned John Jr. , "but she can at least keep her_miserable feelings_ to herself. Nobody wants to know how many timesshe's been blistered and bled!"

Still John Jr. Acknowledged that there were somethings in Mabel whichhe liked, for no one could live long with her and not admire hergentleness and uncommon sweetness of disposition, which manifesteditself in numerous little acts of kindness to those around her. Never before in her life had she been so constantly associated with ayoung gentleman, and as she was quite susceptible, it is hardly morethan natural that erelong thoughts of John Jr. Mingled in both hersleeping and waking dreams. She could not understand him, but themore his changeful moods puzzled her, the more she felt interested inhim, and her eyes would alternately sparkle at a kind word from him, or fill with tears at the abruptness of his speeches; while he seemedto take special delight in seeing how easily he could move her fromone extreme to the other. 

Silently Mrs. Livingstone looked on, carefully noting each change, and warily calculating its result. Not once since Mabel became aninmate of her family had she mentioned her to her son, for she deemedit best to wait, and let matters take their course. But at last, anxious to know his real opinion, she determined to sound him. Accordingly, one day when they were alone, she spoke of Mabel, askinghim if he did not think she improved upon acquaintance, at the sametime enumerating her many excellent qualities, and saying thatwhoever married her would get a prize, to say nothing of a fortune. 

Quickly comprehending the drift of her remarks, John Jr. Replied, "Idare say, and whoever wishes for both prize and fortune, is welcometo them for all me. "

"I thought you liked Mabel, " said his mother; and John answered, "SoI do like her, but for pity's sake, is a man obliged to marry everygirl he likes? Mabel does very well to tease and amuse one, but whenyou come to the marrying part, why, that's another thing. "

"And what objection have you to her, " continued his mother, growingvery fidgety and red. 

"Several, " returned John, "She has altogether too many aches andpains to suit me; then she has no spirit whatever; and last, but notleast, I like somebody else. So, mother mine, you may as well giveup all hopes of that hundred thousand down in Alabama, for I shallnever marry Mabel Ross, never. "

Mrs. Livingstone was now not only red and fidgety but very angry, and, in an elevated tone of voice, she said, "I s'pose it's NellieDouglass you mean, but if you knew all of her that I do, I reckon----"

Here she paused, insinuating that she could tell something dreadful, if she would! But John Jr. Took no notice of her hints, and when hegot a chance, he replied, "You are quite a Yankee at guessing, for ifNellie will have me, I surely will have her. "

"Marry her, then, " retorted his mother--"marry her with all herpoverty, but for heaven's sake, don't give so much encouragement to apoor defenseless girl. "

Wishing Mabel in Guinea, and declaring he'd neither speak to nor lookat her again, if common civilities were construed into encouragement, John Jr. Strode out of the room, determining, as the surest method ofending the trouble, to go forthwith to Nellie, and in a plain, straight-forward way make her an offer of himself. With him, to willwas to do, and in about an hour he was descending the long hill whichleads into Frankfort. Unfortunately, Nellie had gone for a few weeksto Madison, and again mounting Firelock, the young man galloped back, reaching home just as the family were sitting down to supper. Notfeeling hungry, and wishing to avoid, as long as possible, the sightof his mother and Mabel, whom he believed were leagued against him, he repaired to the parlor, whistling loudly, and making much morenoise than was at all necessary. 

"If you please, Mr. Livingstone, won't you be a little more quiet, for my head aches so hard to-night, " said a languid voice, from thedepths of the huge easy-chair which stood before the glowing grate. 

Glancing toward what he had at first supposed to be a bundle ofshawls, John Jr. Saw Mabel Ross, her forehead bandaged up and herlips white as ashes, while the purple rings about her heavy eyes, told of the pain she was enduring. 

"Thunder!" was John's exclamation, as he strode from the room, slamming together the door with unusual force. 

When Mrs. Livingstone came in from supper, with a cup of hot tea anda slice of toast for Mabel, she was surprised to find her sobbinglike a child. It did not take long for her to learn the cause, andthen, as well as she could, she soothed her, telling her not to mindJohn's freaks--it was his way, and he always had a particularaversion to sick people, never liking to hear them talk of theirailments. This hint was sufficient for Mabel, who ever after strovehard to appear well and cheerful in his presence. But in no way, ifhe could help it, would he notice her. 

Next to Mrs. Livingstone, 'Lena was Mabel's best friend, and when shesaw how much her cousin's rudeness and indifference pained her, shedetermined to talk with him about it, So the first time they werealone, she broached the subject, speaking very kindly of Mabel, andasking if he had any well-grounded reason for his uncivil treatmentof her. There was no person in the world who possessed so muchinfluence over John Jr. As did 'Lena, and now, hearing her patientlythrough, he replied, "I know I'm impolite to Mabel, but hang me if Ican help it. She is so flat and silly, and takes every littleattention from me as a declaration of love. Still, I don't blame heras much as I do mother, who is putting her up to it, and if she'donly go home and mind her own business, I should like her wellenough. "

"I don't understand you, " said 'Lena, and her cousin continued; "Why, when Mabel first came here, I do not think she knew what mother wasfishing for, so she was not so much at fault, but she does now----"

"Are you sure?" interrupted 'Lena, and John Jr. Replied, "She's aconfounded fool if she don't. And what provokes me, is to thinkshe'll still keep staying here, when modesty, if nothing else, shouldprompt her to leave. You wouldn't catch Nellie doing so. Why, she'll hardly come her at all, for fear folks will say she comes tosee me, and that's why I like her so well. "

"I think you are mistaken with regard to Mabel, " said Lena, "for I'veno idea she's in love with you a bit more than I am. I dare say shelikes you well enough, for there's nothing in you to dislike. "

"Thank you, " interrupted John Jr. , returning the compliment with akiss, a liberty he often took with her. 

"Behave, can't you?" said 'Lena, at the same time continuing--"No, Idon't suppose Mabel is dying for you at all. All of us girls like toreceive attention from you gentlemen, and she's not an exception. Besides that, you ought to be polite to her, because she's yourmother's guest, if for nothing else. I don't ask you to love her, "said she, "but I do ask you to treat her well. Kind words costnothing, and they go far toward making others happy. "

"So they do, " answered John, upon whom 'Lena's words were having agood effect. "I've nothing under heaven against Mabel Ross, exceptthat mother wants me to marry her; but if you'll warrant me that theyoung lady herself has no such intentions, why, I'll do my very best. "

"I'll warrant you, " returned 'Lena, who really had no idea that Mabelcared aught in particular for her cousin, and satisfied with theresult of her interview she started to leave the room. 

As she reached the door, John Jr. Stopped her, saying, "You are sureshe don't care for me?"

"Perfectly sure, " was 'Lena's answer. 

"The plague, she don't, " thought John, as the door closed upon 'Lena;and such is human nature, that the young man began to think that ifMabel didn't care for him, he'd see if he couldn't make her, forafter all, there was something pleasant in being liked, even by Mabel!

The next day, as the young ladies were sitting together in theparlor, John Jr. Joined them, and after wringing Carrie's nose, pulling 'Lena's and Anna's curls, he suddenly upset Mabel's work-box, at the same time slyly whispering to his cousin, "Ain't I cominground?"

Abrupt as this proceeding, was, it pleased Mabel, who with the utmostgood humor, commenced picking up her things, John Jr. Assisting her, and managing once to bump his head against hers! After this, affairsat Maple Grove glided on as smoothly as even Mrs. Livingstone couldwish. John and Mabel were apparently on the most amicable terms, hedeeming 'Lena's approbation a sufficient reward for the many littleattentions which he paid to Mabel, and she, knowing nothing of allthat had passed, drinking in his every word and look, learning tolive upon his smile, and conforming herself, as far as possible, towhat she thought would best please him. 

Gradually, as she thought it would do, Mrs. Livingstone unfolded toMabel her own wishes, saying she should be perfectly happy could sheonly call her "daughter, " and hinting that such a thing "by wisemanagement could easily be brought about. " With a gush of tears theorphan girl laid her head in Mrs. Livingstone's lap, mentallyblessing her as her benefactress, and thanking the Giver of all goodfor the light and happiness which she saw dawning upon her pathway. 

"John is peculiar, " said Mrs. Livingstone, "and if he fancied youliked him very much, it might not please him as well as indifferenceon your part. "

So, with this lesson, Mabel, for the first time in her life attemptedto act as she did not feel, feigning carelessness or indifferencewhen every pulse of her heart was throbbing with joy at some littleattention paid her by John Jr. , who could be very agreeable when hechose, and who, observing her apparent indifference, began to thinkthat what 'Lena had said was true, and that Mabel really carednothing for him. With this impression he exerted himself to beagreeable, wondering how her many good qualities had so long escapedhis observation. 

"There is more to her than I supposed, " said he one day to 'Lena, whowas commending him for his improved manner. "Yes, a heap more than Isupposed. Why, I really like her!"

And he told the truth, for with his prejudice laid aside, he, as isoften the case, began to find virtues in her the existence of whichhe had never suspected. Frequently, now, he talked, laughed, androde with her, praising her horsemanship, pointing out some pointswherein it might be improved, and never dreaming the while of thedeep affection his conduct had awakened in the susceptible girl. 

"Oh, I am so happy, " said she one day to 'Lena, who was speaking ofher improved health. "I never thought it possible for _me_ to be sohappy. I dreaded to come here at first, but now I shall never regretit, never. "

She was standing before the long mirror in the parlor, adjusting thefeathers to her tasteful velvet cap, which, with her neatly fittingriding-dress, became her better than anything else. The excitementof her words sent a deep glow to her cheek, while her large blackeyes sparkled with unusual brilliancy. She was going out with JohnJr. , who, just as she finished speaking, appeared in the doorway, andcatching a glimpse of her face, exclaimed in his blunt, jocose way, "Upon my word, Meb, if you keep on, you'll get to be quite decentlooking in time. "

'Twas the first compliment of the kind he had ever paid her, andquestionable as it was, it tended to strengthen her fast formingbelief that her affection for him was returned. 

"I can't expect him to do anything like other people, he's so odd, "thought she, and yet it was this very oddness which charmed her. 

At length Nellie, who had returned from Madison, and felt ratherlonely, wrote to Mabel, asking her to come home. This plan Mrs. Livingstone opposed, but Mabel was decided, and the week beforeChristmas was fixed upon for her departure. John Jr. , anxious to seeNellie, proposed accompanying her, but when the day came he wassuffering from a severe cold, which rendered his stay in the houseabsolutely necessary. So his mother, who had reasons of her own fordoing so, went in his stead. Carrie, who never had any fancy forMabel, and only endured her because she was rich, was coolly polite, merely offering her hand, and then resumed the novel she was reading, even before Mabel had left. Anna and 'Lena bade her a moreaffectionate adieu, and then advancing toward John Jr. , who, in hisdressing-gown and slippers, reclined upon the sofa, she offered himher hand. 

As if to atone for his former acts of rudeness, the young manaccompanied her to the door, playfully claiming the privilege oftaking leave just as his sister and cousin had done. 

"It's only me, you know, " said he, imprinting upon her forehead akiss which sent the rich blood to her neck and face. 

John Jr. Would not have dared to take that liberty with Nellie, whileMabel, simple-hearted, and wholly unused to the world, saw in it aworld of meaning, and for a long time after the carriage roiled awayfrom Maple Grove the bright glow on her cheek told of happy thoughtswithin. 

"Did my son say anything definite to you before you left?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, as they came within sight of the city. 

"No, madam, " answered Mabel, and Mrs. Livingstone continued, "That'sstrange. He confessed to me that he--ah--he--loved you, and Isupposed he intended telling you so; but bashfulness prevented, Idare say!"

Accustomed as she was to equivocation, this down-right falsehood costMrs. Livingstone quite an effort, but she fancied the case requiredit, and after a few twinges, her conscience felt easy, particularlywhen she saw how much satisfaction her words gave to her companion, to whom the improbability of the affair never occurred. Could shehave known how lightly John Jr. Treated the matter, laughinglydescribing his leave-taking to his sisters and 'Lena, and saying, "Meb wasn't the worst girl in the world, after all, " she might nothave been so easily duped. 

But she did not know all this, and thus was the delusion perfect. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

NELLIE AND MABEL. 

Nellie Douglass sat alone in her chamber, which was filled witharticles of elegance and luxury, for her father, though far frombeing wealthy, still loved to surround his only daughter witheverything which could increase her comfort. So the best, thefairest, and the most Costly was always for her, his "darlingNellie, " as he called her, when with bounding footsteps she flew togreet him on his return at night, ministering to his wants in athousand ways, and shedding over his home such a halo of sunshinethat ofttimes he forgot that he was a lonely widower, while in thefeatures of his precious child he saw again the wife of his bosom, who years before had passed from his side forever. 

But not on him were Nellie's thoughts resting, as she sat there alonethat afternoon. She was thinking of the past--of John Livingstone, and the many marked attentions, which needed not the expression ofwords to tell her she was beloved. And freely did her heart respond. That John Jr. Was not perfect, she knew, but he was noble andgenerous, and so easily influenced by those he loved, that she knewit would be an easy task to soften down some of the rougher shades ofhis character. Three times during her absence had he called, expressing so much disappointment, that with woman's ready instinctshe more than half divined his intentions, and regretted that she wasgone. But Mabel was coming to-day, and he was to accompany her, forso had 'Lena written, and Nellie's cheeks glowed and her heart beathigh, as she thought of what might occur. She knew well that inpoint of wealth she was not his equal, for though mingling with thefirst in the city, her father was poor--but one of John Jr. 's naturewould never take that into consideration. They had known each otherfrom childhood, and he had always evinced for her the same preferencewhich he now manifested. Several weeks had elapsed since she hadseen him, and now, rather impatiently, she awaited his arrival, "If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Livingstone and Miss Mabel are in theparlor, " said a servant, suddenly appearing and interrupting herreverie. 

"Mrs. Livingstone!" she repeated, as she glanced at herself in amirror, and rearranged one side of her shining hair, "Mrs. Livingstone!--and so _he_ has not come. I wonder what's the matter!"and with a less joyous face she descended to the back parlor, where, with rich furs wrapped closely about her, as if half frozen, sat Mrs. Livingstone, her quick eye taking an inventory of every article offurniture, and her proud spirit whispering to herself, "Poverty, poverty. "

With a cry of joy, Mabel flew to meet Nellie, who, while welcomingher back, congratulated her upon her improved health and looks, saying, "the _air_ of Maple Grove must have agreed with her;" thenturning toward Mrs. Livingstone, who saw in her remark other meaningthan the one she intended, she asked her to remove her wrappings, apologizing at the same time for the fire being so low. 

"Father is absent most of the day, " said she; "and as I am much in mychamber, we seldom keep a fire in the front parlor. "

"Just as well, " answered Mrs. Livingstone, removing her heavy furs. "One fire is _cheaper_ than two, and in these times I suppose it isnecessary for some people to economize. "

Nellie colored, not so much at the words as at the manner of hervisitor. After a moment, Mrs. Livingstone again spoke, lookingstraight in Nellie's face. 

"My son was very anxious to ride over with Mabel, but a bad coldprevented him, so she rather unwillingly took me as a substitute. "

Here not only Nellie, but Mabel, also colored, and the latter leftthe room. When she was gone, Nellie remarked upon the visibleimprovement in her health. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Livingstone, settling herself a little more easilyin her chair, "Yes, Mabel isn't the same creature she was when shecame to us, but then it's no wonder, for love, you know, will workmiracles. "

No answer from Nellie, who almost instinctively felt what was comingnext. 

"Upon my word, Miss Douglass, you've no curiosity whatever. Whydon't you ask with whom Mabel is in love?"

"Who is it?" laughingly asked Nellie, nervously playing with thetassel of her blue silk apron. 

After a moment, Mrs. Livingstone replied, "It may seem out of placefor me to speak of it, but I know you, Miss Douglass, for a girl ofexcellent sense, and feel sure you will not betray me to eitherparty. "

"Certainly not, " answered Nellie, rather haughtily, while hertormentor continued: "Well, then, it is my son, and I assure you, both myself and husband are well pleased that it should be so. Fromthe moment I first saw Mabel, I felt for her a motherly affection forwhich I could not account, and if I were now to select my futuredaughter-in-law, I should prefer her to all others. "

Here ensued a pause which Nellie felt no inclination to break, andagain Mrs. Livingstone spoke: "It may be a weakness, but I havealways felt anxious that John should make a match every way worthy ofhim, both as to wealth and station. Indeed, I would hardly bewilling for him to marry one whose fortune is less than Mabel's. ButI need have no fears, for John has his own views on that subject, andthough he may sometimes be attentive to girls far beneath him, he ispretty sure in the end to do as I think best!"

Poor Nellie! How every word sank into her soul, torturing her almostto madness. She did not stop to consider the improbability of whatshe heard. Naturally impulsive and excitable, she believed it all, for if John Jr. Really loved her, as once she had fondly believed, had there not been a thousand opportunities for him to tell her so?At this moment Mabel reentered the parlor, and Nellie, on the plea ofseeing to the dinner, left the room, going she scarce knew whither, until she found herself in a little arbor at the foot of the garden, where many and many a time John Jr. Had sat with her, and where hewould never sit again--so she thought, so she believed--and throwingherself upon one of the seats, she struggled hard to school herselfto meet the worst--to conquer the bitter resentment which she feltrising within her toward Mabel, who had supplanted her in theaffections of the only one she had ever loved. 

Nellie had a noble, generous nature, and after a few moments ofcalmer reflection, she rose up, strengthened in her purpose of neversuffering Mabel to know how deeply she had wronged her. "She is anorphan--a lonely orphan, " thought she, "and God forbid that throughme one drop of bitterness should mingle in her cup of joy. "

With a firm step she walked to the kitchen, gave some additionalorders concerning the dinner, and then returned to the parlor, halfshuddering when Mabel came near her, and then with a strong effortpressing the little blue-veined hand laid so confidingly upon herown. Dinner being over, Mrs. Livingstone, who had some other callsto make, took her leave, bidding a most affectionate adieu to Mabel, who clung to her as if she had indeed been her mother. 

"Good-bye, darling Meb, " said she. "I shall come for you to visit userelong. " Turning to Nellie, she said, "Do take care of her health, which you know is now precious to more than one;" then in a whispershe added, "Remember that what I have told you is sacred. "

The next moment she was gone, and mechanically, Nellie returned tothe parlor, together with Mabel, whose unusual buoyancy of spiritscontrasted painfully with the silence and sadness which lay aroundher heart. That night, Mr. Douglass had some business in the city, and the two girls were left alone. The lamps were unlighted, for thefull golden moonlight, which streamed through the window-panes, suited better the mood of Nellie, who leaning upon the arm of thesofa, looked listlessly out upon the deep beauty of the night. Upona little stool at her feet sat Mabel, her head resting on Nellie'slap, and her hand searching in vain for another, which involuntarilymoved farther and farther away, as hers advanced. 

At length she spoke: "Nellie, dear Nellie--there is something I wantso much to tell you--if you will hear it, and not think me foolish. "

With a strong effort, the hand which had crept away under thesofa-cushion, came back from its hiding-place, and rested uponMabel's brow, while Nellie's voice answered, softly and slow, "Whatis it, Mabel? I will hear you. "

Briefly, then, Mabel told the story of her short life, beginning atthe time when a frowning nurse tore her away from her dead mother, chiding her for her tears, and threatening her with punishment if shedid not desist. "Since then, " said she, "I have been so lonely--howlonely, none but a friendless orphan can know. No one has ever lovedme, or if for a time they seemed to, they soon grew weary of me, andleft me ten times more wretched than before. I never once dreamedthat--that Mr. Livingstone could care aught for one so ugly as I knowI am. I thought him better suited for you, Nellie. (How cold yourhand is, but don't take it away, for it cools my forehead. ")

The icy hand was not withdrawn, and Mabel continued: "Yes, I thinkhim better suited to you, and when his mother told me that he lovedme, and that he would, undoubtedly, one day make me his wife, it wasalmost too much for me to believe, but it makes me so happy--oh, sohappy. "

"And he--he, too, told you that he loved you?" said Nellie, very low, holding her breath for the answer. 

"Oh, no--_he_ never told me in _words_. 'Twas his mother that toldme--he only _acted_!"

"And what did he do?" asked Nellie, smiling in spite of herself, atthe simplicity of Mabel, who, without any intention of exaggerating, proceeded to tell what John Jr. Had said and done, magnifying everyattention, until Nellie, blinded as she was by what his mother hadsaid, was convinced that, at all events, he was not true to herself. To be sure, he had never told her he loved her in words; but inactions he had said it many a time, and if he could do the same withMabel, he must be false either to one or the other. Always frank andopen-hearted herself, Nellie despised anything like deception inothers, and the high opinion she had once entertained for John Jr. , was now greatly changed. 

Still, reason as she would, Nellie could not forget so easily, andthe hour of midnight found her restless and wakeful. At length, rising up and leaning upon her elbow, she looked down upon the faceof Mabel, who lay sleeping sweetly at her side. Many and bitter wereher thoughts, and as she looked upon her rival, marking her plainfeatures and sallow skin, an expression of scorn flitted for aninstant across her face. 

"And _she_ is preferred to me!" said she. "Well, let it be so, andGod grant I may not hate her. "

Erelong, better feelings came to her aid, and with her arms woundround Mabel's neck, as if to ask forgiveness for her unkind thoughts, she fell asleep. 

CHAPTER XV. 

MRS. LIVINGSTONE'S CALLS AND THEIR RESULT. 

After leaving Mr. Douglass's, Mrs. Livingstone ordered her coachmanto drive her around to the house of Mrs. Atkins, where she wasfrequently in the habit of stopping, partly as a matter ofconvenience when visiting in town, and partly to learn the latestnews of the day, for Mrs. Atkins was an intolerable gossip. Withoutbelonging exactly to the higher circles, she still managed to keep upa show of intimacy with them, possessing herself with their secrets, and kindly intrusting them to the keeping of this and that "dearfriend. "

From her, had Mrs. Livingstone learned to a dime the amount of Mr. Douglass' property, and how he was obliged to economize in variousways, in order to keep up the appearance of style. From her, too, had she learned how often her son was in the habit of calling there, and what rumor said concerning those calls, while Mrs. Atkins hadlearned, in return, that the ambitious lady had other views for John, and that anything which she, Mrs. Atkins, could do to further theplans of her friend, would be gratefully received. On this occasionshe was at home, and of course delighted to meet Mrs. Livingstone. 

"It is such an age since I've seen you, that I began to fear you wereoffended at something, " said she, as she led the way into a cozylittle sitting-room, where a cheerful wood fire was blazing on thenicely painted hearth. "Do sit down and make yourself as comfortableas you can, on such poor accommodations. I have just finished dinnerbut will order some for you. "

"No, no, " exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, "I dined at Mr. Douglass's--thank you. "

"Ah, indeed, " returned Mrs. Atkins, feeling a good deal relieved, forto tell the truth, her larder, as was often the case, was ratherempty. "Dined at Mr. Douglass's! Of course, then, nothing which Icould offer you could be acceptable, after one of his sumptuousmeals. I suppose Nellie brought out all her mother's old silver, andmade quite a display. It's a wonder to me how they hold their headsso high, and folks notice them as they do, for between you and me, Ishouldn't be surprised to hear of his failing any minute. "

"Is it possible?" said Mrs. Livingstone. 

"Why, yes, " returned Mrs. Atkins. "There's nothing to prevent it, they say, except a moneyed marriage on the part of Nellie, who seemsto be doing her best. "

"Has she any particular one in view?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, andMrs. Atkins, aware of Mrs. Livingstone's aversion to the match, replied, "Why, you know she tried to get your son----"

"But didn't succeed, " interrupted Mrs. Livingstone. 

"No, didn't succeed. You are right. Well, now it seems she'sspreading sail for a Mr. Wilbur, of Madison----"

Mrs. Livingstone's eyes sparkled eagerly, and, not to lose one word, she drew her chair nearer to her friend, who proceeded; "He's a richbachelor--brother to Mary Wilbur, Nellie's most intimate friend. You've heard of her?"

"Yes, yes, " returned Mrs. Livingstone. "Hasn't Nellie been visitingher?"

"Her or her brother, " answered Mrs. Atkins. "Mary's health is poor, and you know it's mighty convenient for Nellie to go there, underpretense of staying with her, "

"Exactly, " answered Mrs. Livingstone, with a satisfied smile, andanother hitch of her chair toward Mrs. Atkins, who, after a moment, continued: "The brother came home with Nellie, stayed over Sunday, rode out with her Monday, indorsed ever so many notes for her father, so I reckon, and then went home. If that don't mean something, thenI'm mistaken"--and Mrs. Atkins rang for a glass of wine and a sliceof cake. 

After an hour's confidential talk, in which Mrs. Livingstone told ofMabel's prospects, and Mrs. Atkins told how folks who were at Mr. Graham's party praised 'Lena Rivers' beauty, and predicted a matchbetween her and Mr. Bellmont, the former rose to go; and calling uponone or two others, and by dint of quizzing and hinting, getting themto say "they shouldn't be surprised if Mr. Wilbur did like NellieDouglas, " she started for home, exulting to think how everythingseemed working together for her good, and how, in the denouement, nothing particular could be laid to her charge. 

"I told Nellie no falsehood, " thought she. "I did not say John lovedMabel; I only said she loved him, leaving all else for her to infer. And it has commenced operating, too. I could see it in the spots onher face and neck, when I was talking. Nellie's a fine girl, though, but too poor for the Livingstones;" and with this conclusion, shetold the coachman to drive faster, as she was in a hurry to reachhome. 

Arrived at Maple Grove, she found the whole family, grandma and all, assembled in the parlor, and with them Durward Bellmont. His arm wasthrown carelessly across the back of 'Lena's chair, while heoccasionally bent forward to look at a book of prints which she wasexamining. The sight of him determined her to wait a little ere sheretailed her precious bit of gossip to her son. He was Nellie'scousin, and as such, would in all probability repeat to her what heheard. However communicative John Jr. Might be in other respects, she knew he would never discuss his heart-troubles with any one, so, upon second thought, she deemed it wiser to wait until they werealone. 

Durward and 'Lena, however, needed watching, and by a littlemaneuvering, she managed to separate them, greatly to thesatisfaction of Carrie, who sat upon the sofa, one foot bent underher, and the other impatiently tapping the carpet. From the momentDurward took his seat by her cousin, she had appeared ill at ease, and as he began to understand her better, he readily guessed that hersilent mood was owing chiefly to the attentions he paid to 'Lena, andnot to a nervous headache, as she said, when her grandmother, inquiring the cause of her silence, remarked, that "she'd beenchipper enough until Mr. Bellmont came in. "

But he did not care. He admired 'Lena, and John Jr. Like, it madebut little difference with him who knew it. Carrie's freaks, whichhe plainly saw, rather amused him than otherwise, but of Mrs. Livingstone he had no suspicion whatever. Consequently, when shesent 'Lena from the room on some trifling errand, herselfappropriating the vacated seat, he saw in it no particular design, but in his usual pleasant way commenced talking with Carrie, whobrightened up so much that grandma asked "if her headache wasn'te'en-a'most well!"

When 'Lena returned to the parlor, Durward was proposing a surprisevisit to Nellie Douglass some time during the holidays. "We'llinvite Mr. Everett, and all go down. What do you say, girls?" saidhe, turning toward Carrie and Anna, but meaning 'Lena quite as muchas either of them. 

"Capital, ' answered Anna, visions of a long ride with Malcolminstantly passing before her mind. 

"I should like it very much, " said Carrie, visions of a ride withDurward crossing her mind. 

"And I too, " said 'Lena, laying her hand on John Jr. 's shoulder, asif he would of course be her escort. 

Carrie's ill-nature had not all vanished, and now, in a slightlyinsolent tone, she said, "How do you know you are included?"

'Lena was about to reply, when Durward, a little provoked at Carrie'smanner, prevented her by saying "Of course I meant Miss Rivers, and Iwill now do myself the honor of asking her to ride with me, either onhorseback or in a carriage, just as she prefers. "

In a very graceful manner 'Lena accepted the invitation saying that"she always preferred riding on horse back, but as the pony which sheusually rode had recently been sold, she would be content to go inany other way. "

"Fleetfoot sold! what's that for?" asked Anna; and her motherreplied, "We've about forty horses on our hands now, and as Fleetfootwas seldom used by any one except 'Lena, your father thought wecouldn't afford to keep him. "

She did not dare tell the truth of the matter, and say that eversince the morning when 'Lena rode to Woodlawn with Durward, Fleetfoot's fate had been decreed. Repeatedly had she urged the saleupon her husband, who, wearied with her importunity, at lastconsented, selling him to a neighboring planter, who had taken himaway that very day. 

"That's smart, " said John Jr. Looking at his father, who had notspoken. "What is 'Lena going to ride, I should like to know. "

'Lena pressed his arm to keep him still, but he would not heed her. "Isn't there plenty of feed for Fleetfoot?"

"Certainly, " answered his father, compelled now to speak; "plenty offeed, but Fleetfoot was getting old and sometimes stumbled. Perhapswe'll get 'Lena a better and younger horse. "

This was said in a half timid way, which brought the tears to 'Lena'seyes, for at the bottom of it all she saw her aunt, who sat lookinginto the glowing grate, apparently oblivious to all that was passingaround her. 

"That reminds me of Christmas gifts, " said Durward, anxious to changethe conversation. "I wonder how many of us will get one?"

Ere there was any chance for an answer a servant appeared at thedoor, asking Mrs. Livingstone for some medicine for old Aunt Polly, the superannuated negress, who will be remembered as having nursedMrs. Nichols during her attack of rheumatism, and for whom grandmahad conceived a strong affection. For many days she had been veryill, causing Mrs. Livingstone to wonder "what old niggers wanted tolive for, bothering everybody to death. "

The large stock of abolitionism which Mrs. Nichols had brought withher from Massachusetts was a little diminished by force of habit, butthe root was there still, in all its vigor, and since Aunt Polly'sillness she had been revolving in her mind the momentous question, whether she would not be most guilty if Polly were suffered to die inbondage. 

"I promised Nancy Scovandyke, " said she, "that I'd have some on 'emset free, but I'll be bound if 'taint harder work than I s'posed'twould be. "

Still Aunt Polly's freedom lay warm at grandma's heart and now whenshe was mentioned together with "Christmas gifts, " a bright ideaentered her mind, "John, " said she to her son, when Corinda had gone with the medicine, "John, have you ever made me a Christmas present since I've beenhere?"

"I believe not, " was his answer. 

"Wall, " continued grandma, "bein's the fashion, I want you to give mesomethin' this Christmas, will you?"

"Certainly, " said he, "what is it?"

Grandma replied that she would rather not tell him then--she wouldwait until Christmas morning, which came the next Tuesday, and herethe conversation ended. Soon after, Durward took his leave, telling'Lena he should call for her on Thursday. 

"That's a plaguy smart feller, " said grandma, as the door closed uponhim; "and I kinder think he's got a notion after 'Leny. "

"Ridiculous!" muttered Mrs. Livingstone, while Carrie added, "Justreverse it, and say she has a notion after him!"

"Shut up your head, " growled John Jr. "You are only angry because heasked her to accompany him, instead of yourself. I reckon he knowswhat he's about. "

"I reckon he does, too!" said Mrs. Livingstone, with a peculiarsmile, which nettled 'Lena more than any open attack would have done. 

With the exception of his mother, John Jr. Was the last to leave theparlor, and when all the rest were gone, Mrs. Livingstone seized heropportunity for telling him what she had heard. Taking a light fromthe table, he was about retiring, when she said, "I learned some newsto-day which a little surprised me. "

"Got it from Mother Atkins, I suppose, " answered John, stilladvancing toward the door. 

"Partly from her, and partly from others, " said his mother, adding, as she saw him touch the door-knob, "It's about Nellie Douglass. "

This was sufficient to arrest his attention, and turning about, heasked, "What of her?"

"Why, nothing of any great consequence, as I know of, " said Mrs. Livingstone, "only people in Frankfort think she's going to bemarried. "

"_I_ think so, too, " was John's mental reply, while his verbal onewas, "Married! To whom?"

"Did you ever hear her speak of Mary Wilbur?"

"Yes, she's been staying with her ever since Mrs. Graham's party. "

"Well, Mary it seems has a brother, a rich old bachelor, who they sayis very attentive to Nellie. He came home with her from Madison, staying at her father's the rest of the week, and paying hernumberless attentions, which----"

"_I don't believe it_, " interrupted John Jr. , striking his fist uponthe table, to which he had returned. 

"Neither did I, at first, " said his mother, "but I heard it in somany places that there must be something in it. And I'm sure it's agood match. He is rich, and willing, they say, to help her father, who is in danger of failing any moment. "

Without knowing it, John Jr. Was a little inclined to be jealous, particularly of those whom he loved very much, and now suddenlyremembering to have heard Nellie speak in high terms of RobertWilbur, he began to feel uneasy, lest what his mother had said weretrue. She saw her advantage, and followed it up until, in a fit ofanger, he rushed from the room and repaired to his own apartment, where for a time he walked backward and forward, chafing like a cagedlion, and wishing all manner of evil upon Nellie, if she were indeedfalse to him. 

He was very excitable, and at last worked himself up to such a pitch, that he determined upon starting at once for Frankfort, to demand ofNellie if what he had heard were true! Upon cooler reflection, however, he concluded not to make a "perfect fool of himself, " andplunging into bed, he fell asleep, as what man will not be histrouble what it may. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 

The sunlight of a bright Christmas morning had hardly dawned upon theearth, when from many a planter's home in the sunny south was heardthe joyful cry of "Christmas Gift, " "Christmas Gift, " as the negroesran over and against each other, hiding ofttimes, until some one camewithin hailing distance, when their loud "Christmas Gift" would makeall echo again. On this occasion, every servant at Maple Grove wasremembered, for Anna and 'Lena had worked both early and late inpreparing some little present, and feeling amply compensated fortheir trouble, when they saw how much happiness it gave. Mabel, too, while she stayed, had lent a helping hand, and many a blessing wasthat morning invoked upon her head from the hearts made glad by hergenerous gifts. Carrie, when asked to join them, had turnedscornfully away, saying "she'd plenty to do, without working forniggers; who could not appreciate it. "

So all her leisure hours were spent in embroidering a fine cambrichandkerchief, intended as a present for Mrs. Graham, and which with adelicate note was, the evening previous, sent to Woodlawn, withinstructions to have it placed next morning on Mrs. Graham's table. Of course Mrs. Graham felt in duty bound to return the compliment, and looking over her old jewelry, she selected a diamond ring whichshe had formerly worn, but which was now too small for her fat chubbyfingers. This was immediately forwarded to Maple Grove, reachingthere just as the family were rising from the breakfast-table. 

"Oh, isn't it beautiful--splendid--magnificent!" were Carrie'sexclamations, while she praised Mrs. Graham's generosity, secretlywondering if "Durward did not have something to do with it. "

On this point she was soon set right, for the young man himselferelong appeared, and after bidding them all a "Merry Christmas, "presented Anna with a package which, on being opened, proved to be alarge and complete copy of Shakspeare, elegantly bound, and bearingupon its heavy golden clasp the words "Anna Livingstone, fromDurward, "

"This you will please accept from me, " said he. "Mother, I believe, has sent Carrie something, and if 'Lena will step to the door, shewill see her gift from father, who hopes it will give her as muchpleasure to accept it, as it does him to present it. "

"What can it be?" thought Carrie, rising languidly from the sofa, andfollowing 'Lena and her sister to the side door, where stood one ofMr. Graham's servants, holding a beautiful gray pony, all nicelyequipped for riding. 

Never dreaming that this was intended for 'Lena, Carrie lookedvacantly around, saying, "Why, where is it? I don't see anything. "

"Here, " said Durward, taking the bridle from the negro's hand, andplayfully throwing it across 'Lena's neck, "Here it is--this pony, which we call Vesta. Vesta, allow me to introduce you and your newmistress, Miss 'Lena, to each other, " and catching her up, as if shehad been a feather, he placed her in the saddle. Then, at a peculiarwhistle, the well-trained animal started off upon an easy gallop, bearing its burden lightly around the yard, and back again to thepiazza. 

"Do you like her ?" he asked of 'Lena, extending his arms to lift herdown. 

For a moment 'Lena could not speak, her heart was so full. But atlast, forcing down her emotion, she replied, "Oh, very, very much;but it isn't for me, I know--there must be some mistake. Mr. Grahamnever intended it for me. "

"Yes, he did, " answered Durward. "He has intended it ever since themorning when you and I rode to Woodlawn. A remark which your cousinJohn made at the table, determined him upon him buying and training apony for you. So here it is, and as I have done my share towardteaching her, you must grant me the favor of riding her to Frankfortday after to-morrow. "

"Thank you, thank you--you and Mr. Graham too--a thousand times, "said 'Lena, winding her arms around the neck of the docile animal, who did her best to return the caress, rubbing her face against'Lena, and evincing her gentleness in various ways. 

By this time Mr. Livingstone had joined them, and while he wasadmiring the pony, Durward said to him, "I am commissioned by myfather to tell you that he will defray all the expense of keepingVesta. "

"Don't mention such a thing again, " hastily interposed Mr. Livingstone. "I can keep fifty horses, if I choose, and nothing willgive me more pleasure than to take care of this one for 'Lena, whodeserves it if any one does. "

"That's my Christmas gift from you, uncle, isn't it?" asked 'Lena, the tears gushing from her shining, brown eyes. "And now please mayI return it?"

"Certainly, " said he, and with a nimble spring she caught him aroundthe neck, imprinting upon his lips the first and only kiss she hadever given him; then, amid blushes and tears, which came from a heartfull of happiness, she ran away upstairs followed by the envious eyesof Carrie, who repaired to her mother's room, where she stated allthat had transpired--"How Mr. Graham had sent 'Lena a gray pony--howshe had presumed to accept it--and how, just to show off before Mr. Bellmont, she had wound her arms around its neck, and then actually_kissed pa_!"

Mrs. Livingstone was equally indignant with her daughter, wonderingif Mr. Graham had lost his reason, and reckoning his wife knewnothing about Vesta! But fret as she would, there was no help forit. Vesta belonged to 'Lena--Mr. Livingstone had given orders tohave it well-cared for--and worse than all the rest, 'Lena was toaccompany Durward to Frankfort. Something must be done to meet theemergency, but what, Mrs. Livingstone didn't exactly know, andfinally concluded to wait until she saw Mrs. Graham. 

Meantime grandma had claimed from her son her promised Christmasgift, which was nothing less than "the freedom of old Aunt Polly. "

"You won't refuse me, John, I know you won't, " said she, laying herbony hand on his. "Polly's arnt her freedom forty times over, evens'posin' you'd a right to her in the fust place which I and NancyScovandyke both doubt; so now set down like a man, make out her freepapers, and let me carry 'em to her right away. "

Without a word Mr. Livingstone complied with his mother's request, saying, as he handed her the paper, "It's not so much the fault ofthe south as of the north that every black under heaven is not free. "

Grandma looked aghast. Her son, born, brought up, and baptized in apurely orthodox atmosphere, to hold such treasonable opinions inopposition to everything he'd ever been taught in good oldMassachusetts! She was greatly shocked, but thinking she could notdo the subject justice, she said, "Wall, wall, it's of no use for youand I to arger the pint, for I don't know nothin' what I want to say, but if Nancy Scovandyke was here, she'd convince you quick, for she'sgood larnin' as any of the gals nowadays. "

So saying, she walked away to Polly's cabin. The old negress wasbetter to-day, and attired in the warm double-gown which Mabel hadpurchased and 'Lena had made, she sat up in a large, comfortablerocking-chair which John Jr. Had given her at the commencement of herillness, saying it was "his Christmas gift in advance. " Goingstraight up to her, grandma laid the paper in her lap, bidding her"read it and thank the Lord. "

"Bless missus' dear old heart, " said Aunt Polly, "I can't read aword. "

"Sure enough, " answered Mrs. Nichols, and taking up the paper sheread it through, managing to make the old creature comprehend itsmeaning. 

"Praise the Lord! praise Master John, and all the other apostles!"exclaimed Aunt Polly, clasping together her black, wrinkled hands, while tears of joy coursed their way down her cheeks. "The breath ofliberty is sweet--sweet as sugar, " she continued, drawing longinspirations as if to make up for lost time. 

Mrs. Nichols looked on, silently thanking God for having made her anhumble instrument in contributing so much to another's happiness. 

"Set down, " said Aunt Polly, motioning toward a wooden bottomedchair; "set down, and let's us talk over this great meracle, whichI've prayed and rastled for mighty nigh a hundred times, withouthavin' an atom of faith that 'twould ever be. "

So Mrs. Nichols sat down, and for nearly an hour the old ladiestalked, the one of her newly-found freedom, and the other of herhappiness in knowing that "'twasn't for nothin' she was turned out ofher old home and brought away over land and sea to Kentucky. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

FRANKFORT. 

Thursday morning came, bright, sunshiny and beautiful, and at aboutten o'clock 'Lena, dressed and ready for her ride, came down to theparlor, where she found John Jr. Listlessly leaning upon the tablewith his elbows, and drumming with his fingers. 

"Come, cousin, " said she, "why are you not ready?"

"Ready for what?" he answered, without raising his head. 

"Why, ready for our visit, " replied Lena, at the same time advancingnearer, to see what ailed him. 

"All the visit I make to-day won't hurt me, I reckon, " said he;pushing his hat a little more to one side and looking up at 'Lena, who, in some surprise, asked what he meant. 

"I mean what I say, " was his ungracious answer; "I've no intentionwhatever of going to Frankfort. "

"Not going?" repeated 'Lena. "Why not? What will Carrie do?"

"Stick herself in with you and Durward, I suppose, " said John Jr. , just as Carrie entered the room, together with Mr. Bellmont, Malcolm, and Anna. 

"Not going?--of course then I must stay at home, too, " said Carrie, secretly pleased at her brother's decision. 

"Why of course?" asked Durward, who, in the emergency, feltconstrained to offer his services to Carrie though he would greatlyhave preferred 'Lena's company alone. "The road is wide enough forthree, and I am fully competent to take charge of two ladies. Butwhy don't you go?" turning to John Jr. 

"Because I don't wish to. If it was anywhere in creation but there, I'd go, " answered the young man; hastily leaving the room to avoidall further argument. 

"He does it just to be hateful and annoy me, " said Carrie, trying topout, but making a failure, for she had in reality much rather gounder Durward's escort than her brother's. 

The horses were now announced as ready, and in a few moments thelittle party were on their way, Carrie affecting so much fear of herpony that Durward at last politely offered to lead him a while. Thiswould of course bring him close to her side, and after a littlewell-feigned hesitation, she replied, "I am sorry to trouble you, butif you would be so kind----"

'Lena saw through the ruse, and patting Vesta gently, rode on inadvance, greatly to the satisfaction of Carrie, and greatly to thechagrin of Durward, who replied to his loquacious companion only inmonosyllables. Once, indeed, when she said something concerning'Lena's evident desire to show off her horsemanship, he answeredrather coolly, that "he'd yet to discover in Miss Rivers the leastpropensity for display of any kind. "

"You've never lived with her, " returned Carrie, and here theconversation concerning 'Lena ceased. 

Meantime, Nellie Douglass was engaged in answering a letter thatmorning received from Mary Wilbur. A few years before, Mary hadspent some months in Mr. Douglass's family, conceiving a strongaffection for Nellie, whom she always called her sister, and withwhom she kept up a regular correspondence. Mary was an orphan, living with her only brother Robert, who was a bachelor of thirty orthirty-five. Once she had ventured to hope that Nellie would indeedbe to her a sister, but fate had decreed it otherwise, and herbrother was engaged to a lady whom he found a school-girl inMontreal, and who was now at her own home in England. This waswell-known to Nellie, but she did not deem it a matter of sufficientimportance to discuss, so it was a secret in Frankfort, where Mr. Wilbur's polite attentions to herself was a subject of considerableremark. For a long time Mary had been out of health, and the familyphysician at last said that nothing could save her except a seavoyage, and as her brother was about going to Europe to consummatehis marriage, it was decided that she should accompany him. This shewas willing to do, provided Nellie Douglass would go too. 

"It would be much pleasanter, " she said, "having some femalecompanion besides her attendant, and then, too, Nellie had relativesin England;" so she urged her to accompany them, offering to defrayall expenses for the pleasure of her society. 

Since Nellie's earliest recollection, her fondest dreams had been ofEngland, her mother's birthplace; and now when so favorable anopportunity for visiting it was presented, she felt strongly temptedto say "Yes. " Still, she would give Mary no encouragement until shehad seen her father and John Jr. , the latter of whom would influenceher decision quite as much as the former. But John Jr. No longerloved her--she was sure of that--and with her father's consent shehad half determined to go. Still she was undecided, until a lettercame from Mary, urging her to make up her mind without delay, as theywere to sail the 15th of January. 

"Brother is so sensitive concerning his love affairs, " wrote Mary, "that whether you conclude to join us or not, you will please saynothing about his intended marriage. "

Nellie had seated herself to answer this letter, when a servant cameup, saying that "Marster Bellmont, all the Livingstones, and a heapmore were downstars, and had sent for her. "

She was just writing, "I will go, " when this announcement came, andquickly suspending her pen, she thought, "He's come, at last. It mayall be a mistake. I'll wait. " With a beating heart she descended tothe parlor, where she politely greeted Mr. Everett and Durward, andthen anxiously glanced around for the missing one. Mabel, who felt asimilar disappointment, ventured to inquire for him, in a low tone, whereupon Carrie replied, loudly enough for Nellie to hear, "Oh, praydon't speak of that bear. Why, you don't know how cross he's beenever since--let me see--ever since you came away. He doesn't say acivil word to anybody, and I really wish you'd come back before hekills us all. '

"Did you invite him to come ?" said Nellie. 

"To be sure we did, " answered Carrie, "and he said, 'anywhere increation but there. '"

Nellie needed no further confirmation, and after conversing awhilewith her guests, she begged leave to be excused for a few moments, while she finished a letter of importance, which must go out in thenext mail. Alone in her room, she wavered, but the remembrance ofthe words, "anywhere in creation but there, " decided her, and with afirm hand she wrote to Mary that she would go. When the letter wasfinished and sent to the office, Nellie returned to her visitors, whobegan to rally her concerning the important letter which must beanswered. 

"Now, coz, " said Durward, pulling her down upon the sofa by his side, "now, coz, I claim a right to know something about this letter. Wasit one of acceptance or rejection?"

"Acceptance, of course, " answered Nellie, who, knowing no good reasonwhy her intended tour should be kept a secret, proceeded to speak ofit, telling how they were to visit Scotland, France, Switzerland, andItaly, and almost forgetting, in her enthusiasm, how wretched thethought of the journey made her. 

"And Miss Wilbur's brother is to be your escort--he is unmarried, Ibelieve?" said Durward, looking steadily upon the carpet. 

In a moment Nellie would have told of his engagement, and the objectof his going, but she remembered Mary's request in time, and theblush which the almost committed mistake called to her cheek, wasconstrued by all into a confession that there was something betweenher and Mr. Wilbur. 

"That accounts for John's sudden churlishness, " thought 'Lena, wondering how Nellie could have deceived him so. 

"Oh, I see it all, " exclaimed Mabel. "I understand now what has madeNellie so absent-minded and restless these many days. She was makingup her mind to become Mrs. Wilbur, while I fancied she was offendedwith me. "

"I don't know what you mean, " answered Nellie, without smiling in theleast. "Mary Wilbur wishes me to accompany her to Europe, and Iintend doing so. Her brother is nothing to me, nor ever will be. "

"Quite a probable story, " thought Mr. Everett, without forming hisreflections into words. 

Toward the middle of the afternoon, a violent ringing of thedoor-bell, and a heavy tramp in the hall, announced some new arrival, and Nellie was about opening the parlor door, when who should appearbut John Jr. ! From his room he had watched the departure of theparty, one moment wishing he was with them, and the next declaringhe'd never go to Frankfort again so long as he lived! At lengthinclination getting the ascendency of his reason, he mountedFirelock, and rushing furiously down the 'pike, never once slackenedhis speed until the city was in sight. 

"I dare say she'll think me a fool, " thought he, "tagging her round, but she needn't worry. I only want to show her how little her pranksaffect me. "

With these thoughts he could not fail to meet Nellie otherwise thancoldly, while she received him with equal indifference, calling himMr. Livingstone, and asking if he were cold, with other questions, such as any polite hostess would ask of her guest. But heraccustomed smile and usual frankness of manner were gone, and whileJohn Jr. Felt it keenly, he strove under a mask of indifference, toconceal his chagrin. Mabel seemed delighted to see him, and for wantof something better to do, he devoted himself to her, calling herMeb, and teasing her about her "Indian locks, " as he called herstraight, black hair. Could he have seen the bitter tears whichNellie constantly forced back, as she moved carelessly among herguests, far different would have been his conduct. But he only feltthat she had been untrue to him, and in his anger he was hardlyconscious of what he was doing. 

So when Mabel said to him, "Nellie is going to Europe with Mr. Wilburand Mary, " he replied, "Glad of it--hope she'll"--be drowned, hethought--"have a good time, " he said--and Nellie, who heard all, never guessed how heavily the blow had fallen, or that the hand sosuddenly placed against his heart, was laid there to still the wildthrobbing which he feared she might hear. 

When next he spoke, his voice was very calm, as he asked when she wasgoing, and how long she intended to be gone. "What! so soon?" saidhe, when told that she sailed the 15th of January, and other thanthat, not a word did he say to Nellie concerning her intended visit, until just before they left for home. Then for a moment he stoodalone with her in the recess of a window. There was a film upon hiseyes as he looked upon her, and thought it might be for the lasttime. There was anguish, too, in his heart, but it did not mingle inthe tones of his voice, which was natural, and, perhaps, indifferent, as he said, "Why do you go to Europe, Nellie?"

Quickly, and with something of her olden look, she glanced up intohis face, but his eyes, which would not meet hers, lest they shouldbetray themselves, were resting upon Mabel, who, on a stool acrossthe room, was petting and caressing a kitten. 'Twas enough, andcarelessly Nellie answered, "Because I want to; what do you suppose?"

Without seeming to hear her answer, the young man walked away towhere Mabel sat, and commenced teasing her and her kitten, whileNellie, maddened with herself, with him, with everybody, precipitately left the room, and going to her chamber hastily, andwithout a thought as to what she was doing, gathered together everylittle token which John Jr. Had given her, together with his notesand letters, written in his own peculiar and scarcely legible hand. Tying them in a bundle, she wrote with unflinching nerve, "Do thoulikewise, " and then descending to the hall, laid it upon thehat-stand, managing, as he was leaving, to place it unobserved in hishand. Instinctively he knew what it was, glanced at the three wordswritten thereon, and in a cold, sneering voice, replied, "I will, with pleasure. " And thus they parted. 

thought as to what she was doing, gathered together every little tokenwhich John Jr. Had given her, together with his notes and letters, written in his own peculiar and scarcely legible hand. Tying them in abundle, she wrote with unflinching nerve, "Do thou likewise, " and thendescending to the hall, laid it upon the hat-stand, managing, as he wasleaving, to place it unobserved in his hand. Instinctively he knewwhat it was, glanced at the three words written thereon, and in a cold, sneering voice, replied, "I will, with pleasure. " And thus they parted. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE DEPARTURE. 

"John, how would you like to take a trip to New York--the city, Imean?" said Mr. Livingstone, to his son, one morning about two weeksfollowing the events narrated in the last chapter. 

"Well enough--why do you ask?" answered John. 

"Because, " said his father, "I have to-day received a letter whichmakes it necessary for one of us to be there the 15th, and as you arefond of traveling, I had rather you would go. You had better startimmediately--say to-morrow. "

John Jr. Started from his chair. To-morrow she left her home--the 15thshe sailed. He might see her again, though at a distance, for sheshould never know he followed her! Since that night in Frankfort hehad not looked upon her face, but he had kept his promise, returning toher everything--everything except a withered rose-bud, which yearsbefore, when but a boy, he had twined among the heavy braids of herhair, and which she had given back to him, playfully fastening it inthe button-hole of his roundabout! How well he remembered that day. She was a little romping girl, teasing him unmercifully about his _flatfeet_ and _big hands_, chiding him for his _negro slang_, as she termedhis favorite expressions, and with whatever else she did, weaving herimage into his heart's best and noblest affections, until he seemed tolive only for her, But now 'twas changed--terribly changed. She was nolonger "his Nellie, " the Nellie of his boyhood's love; and with amuttered curse and a tear, large, round, and hot, such as only John Jr. Could shed, he sent her back every memento of the past, all save thatrose-bud, with which he could not part, it seemed so like his earlyhopes--withered and dead. 

Nellie was alone, preparing for her journey, when the box containingthe treasures was handed her. Again and again she examined to see ifthere were not one farewell word, but there was nothing save, "Hereendeth the first lesson!" followed by two exclamation points, whichJohn Jr. Had dashed off at random. Every article seemed familiar toher as she looked them over, and everything was there but one--shemissed the rose-bud--and she wondered at the omission for she knew hehad it in his possession. He had told her so not three months before. Why, then, did he not return it? Was it a lingering affection for herwhich prompted the detention? Perhaps so, and down in Nellie's heartwas one warm, bright spot, the memory of that bud, which grew green andfresh again, as on the day when first it was torn from its parent stem. 

When it was first known at Maple Grove, that Nellie was going toEurope, Mrs. Livingstone, who saw in the future the full consummationof her plans, proposed that Mabel should spend the period of Nellie'sabsence with her. But to this Mr. Douglass would not consent. 

"He could not part with both his daughters, " he said, and Mabel decidedto remain, stipulating that 'Lena, of whom she was very fond, shouldpass a portion of the time with her. 

"All the time, if she chooses, " said Mr. Douglass, who also liked'Lena, while Nellie, who was present, immediately proposed that sheshould take music lessons of Monsieur Du Pont, who had recently come tothe city, and who was said to be a superior teacher. "She is fond ofmusic, " said she, "and has always wanted to learn, but that aunt ofhers never seemed willing; and this will be a good opportunity, for shecan use my piano all the time if she chooses. "

"Capital!" exclaimed Mabel, generously thinking how she would pay thebills, and how much she would assist 'Lena, for Mabel was an excellentmusician, singing and playing admirably. 

When this plan was proposed to 'Lena, she objected, for two reasons. The first, that she could not leave her grandmother, and second, thatmuch as she desired the lessons, she would not suffer Mabel to pay forthem, and she had no means of her own. On the first point she began towaver, when Mrs. Nichols, who was in unusually good health, insistedupon her going. 

"It will do you a sight of good, " said she, "and there's no kind of usewhy you should stay hived up with me. I'd as lief be left alone asnot, and I shall take comfort thinkin' you're larnin' to play thepianner, for I've allus wondered 'Tildy didn't set you at Car'line's. So, go, " the old lady continued, whispering in 'Lena's ear, "Go, andmebby some day you'll be a music teacher, and take care of us both. "

Still, 'Lena hesitated at receiving so much from Mabel, who, after amoment's thought, exclaimed, "Why, I can teach you myself! I shouldlove to dearly. It will be something to occupy my mind; and myinstructors have frequently said that I was capable of teachingadvanced pupils, if I chose. You'll go now, I know"--and Mabel pleadher cause so well, that 'Lena finally consented, saying she should comehome once a week to see her grandmother. 

"A grand arrangement, I must confess, " said Carrie, when she heard ofit. "I should think she sponged enough from her connections, withoutliving on other folks, and poor ones, too, like Mr. Douglass. "

"How ridiculous you talk, " said John Jr. , who was present. "You'd beperfectly willing to spend a year at Mr. Graham's, or Mr. Douglass'seither, if he had a son whom you considered an eligible match. Then asto his being so poor, that's one of Mother Atkins' yarns, and she knowseverybody's history, from Noah down to the present day. For 'Lena'ssake I am glad to have her go, though heaven knows what I shall dowithout her. "

Mrs. Livingstone, too, was secretly pleased, for she would thus be moreout of Durward's way, and the good lady was again becoming somewhatsuspicious. So when her husband objected, saying 'Lena could takelessons at home if she liked, she quietly overruled him, giving manygood reasons why 'Lena should go, and finally saying that if Mrs. Nichols was very lonely without her, she might spend her evenings inthe parlor when there was no company present! So it was decided that'Lena should go, and highly pleased with the result of their call, Mr. Douglass and Mabel returned to Frankfort. 

At length the morning came when Nellie was to start on her journey. Mr. Wilbur had arrived the night before, together with his sister, whose marble cheek and lusterless eye even then foretold the lonelygrave which awaited her far away 'neath a foreign sky. Durward and Mr. Douglass accompanied them as far as Cincinnati, where they took thecars for Buffalo. Just before it rolled from the depot, a young manclosely muffled, who had been watching our party, sprang into a carjust in the rear of the one they had chosen, and taking the firstvacant seat, abandoned himself to his own thoughts, which must havebeen very absorbing, as a violent shake was necessary, ere he heededthe call of "Your ticket, sir. "

Onward, onward flew the train, while faster and faster Nellie's tearswere dropping. They had gushed forth when she saw the quivering chinand trembling lips of her gray-haired father, as he bade his only childgood-bye, and now that he was gone, she wept on, never heeding heryoung friend, who strove in vain to call her attention to the fastreceding hills of Kentucky, which she--Mary--was leaving forever. Other thoughts than those of her father mingled with Nellie's tears, for she could not forget John Jr. , nor the hope cherished to the lastthat he would come to say farewell. But he did not. They had partedin coldness, if not in anger, and she might never see him again. 

"Come, cheer up, Miss Douglass; I cannot suffer you to be so sad, " saidMr. Wilbur, placing himself by Nellie, and thoughtlessly throwing hisarm across the back of the seat, while at the same time he bentplayfully forward to peep under her bonnet. 

And Nellie did look up, smiling through her tears, but she did notobserve the flashing eyes which watched her through the window at therear of the car. Always restless and impatient of confinement, JohnJr. Had come out for a moment upon the platform, ostensibly to take theair, but really to see if it were possible to get a glimpse of Nellie. She was sitting not far from the door, and he looked in, just in timeto witness Mr. Wilbur's action, which he of course construed just ashis jealousy dictated. 

"Confounded fool!" thought he. "_I_ wouldn't hug Nellie in the cars ingood broad daylight, even if I was married to her!"

And returning to his seat; he wondered which was the silliest, "forNellie to run off with Mr. Wilbur, or for himself to run after her. Six of one and half a dozen of the other, I reckon, " said he; at thesame time wrapping himself in his shawl, he feigned sleep at everystation, for the sake of retaining his entire seat, and sometimes ifthe crowd was great, going so far as to snore loudly!

And thus they proceeded onward, Nellie never suspecting the closeespionage kept upon her by John Jr. , who once in the night, at acrowded depot, passed so closely to her that he felt her warm breath onhis cheek. And when, on the morning of the 15th, she sailed, shelittle thought who it was that followed her down to the water's edge, standing on the last spot where she had stood, and watching with aswelling heart the vessel which bore her away. 

"I'm nothing better than a walking dead man, now, " said he, as he, retraced his steps back to his hotel. "Nellie's gone, and with her allfor which I lived, for she's the only girl except 'Lena who isn't alibel on the sex--or, yes--there's Anna--does as well as she knowshow--and there's Mabel, a little simpleton, to be sure, but amiable andgood-natured, and on the whole, as smart as they'll average. 'Twaskind in her, anyway, to offer to pay 'Lena's music bills. "

And with these reflections, John Jr. Sought out the men whom he hadcome to see, transacted his business, and then started for home, wherehe found his mother in unusually good spirits. Matters thus far hadsucceeded even beyond her most sanguine expectations. Nellie was goneto Europe, and the rest she fancied would be easy. 'Lena, too, wasgone, but the result of this was not what she had hoped. Durward hadbeen at Maple Grove but once since 'Lena left, while she had heard ofhis being in Frankfort several times. 

"Something must be done"--her favorite expression and in her difficultyshe determined to call upon Mrs. Graham, whom she had not seen sinceChristmas. "It is quite time she knew about the gray pony, as well asother matters, " thought she, and ordering the carriage, she set out onemorning for Woodlawn, intending to spend the day if she found itsmistress amiably disposed, which was not always the case. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE VISIT. 

Mrs. Graham reclined upon a softly-cushioned sofa, her tasteful lacemorning-cap half falling from her head, and her rich cashmere gownflowing open, so as to reveal the flounced cambric skirt which hersewing-girl had sat up till midnight to finish. A pair of delicateFrench slippers pinched rather than graced her fat feet, one of whichangrily beat the carpet, as if keeping time to its mistress' thoughts. Nervous and uncomfortable was the lady of Woodlawn this morning, for shehad just passed through a little conjugal scene with her husband, whomshe had called a _brute_, lamenting the dispensation of Providence whichtook from her "her beloved Sir Arthur, who always thought whatever shesaid was right, " and ending by throwing herself in the most theatricalmanner upon the sofa in the parlor, where, with both her blood andtemper at a boiling heat, she lay, when her waiting-maid, but recentlypurchased, announced the approach of a carriage. 

"Mercy, " exclaimed the distressed lady, "whose is it? I hope no onewill ask for me. "

"Reckon how it's Marster Livingstone's carriage, 'case thar's Tom on thebox, " answered the girl, who had her own private reason for knowing Tomat any distance. 

"Mrs. Livingstone, I'll venture to say, " groaned Mrs. Graham, buryingher lace cap and flaxen hair still farther in the silken cushions. "Just because I stopped there a few days last summer, she thinks shemust run here every week; and there's no way of escaping her. Do shutthat blind; it lets in so much light. There, would you think I'd beencrying?"

"Lor, no, " returned the stupid servant, "Lor, no; I should sooner thinkyour eyes and face were swelled with _pisen_. "

"The Lord help me, " exclaimed Mrs. Graham, "you don't begin to know asmuch as poor Charlotte did. She was a jewel, and I don't see anythingwhat she wanted to die for, just as I had got her well trained; butthat's all the thanks I ever get for my goodness. Now go quick, andtell her I've got an excruciating headache. "

"If you please, miss, " said the girl, trying in vain to master the bigword, "if you please, give me somethin' shorter, 'case I done forgitthat ar, sartin'. "

"Fool! Idiot!" exclaimed Mrs. Graham, hurling, for want of somethingbetter, one of her satin slippers at the woolly head, which dodged outof the door in time to avoid it. 

"Is your mistress at home?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, and Martha, uncertain what answer she was to make, replied, "Yes--no--I dun know, 'case she done driv me out afore I know'd whether she was at home ornot. "

"Martha, show the lady this way, " called out Mrs. Graham, who waslistening. "Ah, Mrs. Livingstone, is it you. I'm glad to see you, "said she, half rising and shading her swollen eyes with her hand, as ifthe least effort were painful. "You must excuse my dishabille, for I amsuffering from a bad headache, and when Martha said some one had come, Ithought at first I could not see them, but you are always welcome. Howhave you been this long time, and why have you neglected me so, when youknow how I must feel the change from Louisville, where I was constantlyin society, to this dreary neighborhood?" and the lady lay back upon thesofa, exhausted with and astonished at her own eloquence. 

Mrs. Livingstone was quite delighted with her friend's unusualcordiality, and seating herself in the large easy-chair, began to makeherself very agreeable, offering to bathe Mrs. Graham's aching head, which kind offer the lady declined, bethinking herself of sundry grayhairs, which a close inspection would single out from among her flaxentresses. 

"Are your family all well?" she asked; to which Mrs. Livingstone repliedthat they were, at the same time speaking of her extreme lonelinesssince Mabel left them. 

"Ah, you mean the little dark-eyed brunette, whom I saw with you at myparty. She was a nice-looking girl--showed that she came of a goodfamily. I think everything of that. I believe I'd rather Durward wouldmarry a poor aristocrat, than a wealthy plebeian--one whose family werelow and obscure. "

Mrs. Livingstone wondered what she thought of her family, theLivingstones. The Richards' blood she knew was good, but the Nichols'was rather doubtful. Still, she would for once make the best of it, soshe hastened to say that few American ladies were so fortunate as Mrs. Graham had been in marrying a noble man. "In this country we have nonobility, you know, " said she, "and any one who gets rich and into goodsociety, is classed with the first. "

"Yes, I know, " returned Mrs. Graham, "but in my mind there's a greatdifference. Now, Mr. Graham's ancestors boast of the best blood ofSouth Carolina, while my family, everybody knows, was one of the firstin Virginia, so if Durward had been Mr. Graham's son instead of SirArthur's, I should be just as proud of him, just as particular whom hemarried. "

"Certainly, " answered Mrs. Livingstone, a little piqued, for there wassomething in Mrs. Graham's manner which annoyed her--"certainly--Iunderstand you. I neither married a nobleman, nor one of the bestbloods of South Carolina, and still I should not be willing for my sonto marry--let me see--well, say 'Lena Rivers. "

"'Lena Rivers !" repeated Mrs. Graham--"why, I would not suffer Durwardto look at her, if I could help it. She's of a horridly low family onboth sides, as I am told. "

This was a home thrust which Mrs. Livingstone could not endure quietly, and as she had no wish to defend the royalty of a family which sheherself despised, she determined to avenge the insult by making hercompanion as uncomfortable as possible. So she said, "Perhaps you arenot aware that your son's attentions to this same 'Lena Rivers, arebecoming somewhat marked. "

"No, I was not aware of it, " and the greenish-gray eyes fastenedinquiringly upon Mrs. Livingstone, who continued: "It is neverthelesstrue, and as I can appreciate your feelings, I thought it might not beout of place for me to warn you. "

"Thank you, " returned Mrs. Graham, now raising herself upon her elbow, "Thank you---but do you know anything positive? What has Durward done?"

"'Lena is in Frankfort now, at Mr. Douglass's, " answered Mrs. Livingstone, "and your son is in the constant habit of visiting there;besides that, he invited her to ride with him when they all went toFrankfort--'Lena upon the gray pony which your husband gave her as aChristmas present. "

Mrs. Livingstone had touched the right spot. 'Twas the first intimationof Vesta which Mrs. Graham had received, and now sitting bolt upright, she demanded what Mrs. Livingstone meant. "My husband give 'Lena Riversa pony! Harry Graham do such a thing! It can't be possible. Theremust be some mistake. "

"I think not, " returned Mrs. Livingstone. "Your son came over with it, saying 'it was a present from his father, who sent it, together with hiscompliments. '"

Back among her cushions tumbled Mrs. Graham, moaning, groaning, andpronouncing herself wholly heart-broken. "I knew he was bad, " said she, "but I never dreamed it had come to this. And I might have known it, too, for from the moment he first saw that girl, he has acted like acrazy creature. Talks about her in his sleep--wants me to adopther--keeps his eyes on her every minute when he's where she is; and tocrown all, without consulting me, his lawful wife, he has made her apresent, which must have cost more than a hundred dollars! And sheaccepted it--the vixen!"

"That's the worst feature in the case, " said Mrs. Livingstone. "I havealways been suspicious of 'Lena, knowing what her mother was, but I mustconfess I did not think her quite so presumptuous as to accept so costlya present from a gentleman, and a married one, too. But she has apeculiar way of making them think what she does is right, and neither myhusband nor John Jr. Can see any impropriety in her keeping Vesta. Carrie wouldn't have done such a thing. "

"Indeed she wouldn't. She is too well-bred for that, " said Mrs. Graham, who had been completely won by Carrie's soft speeches and fawning manner. 

This compliment to her daughter pleased Mrs. Livingstone, whostraightway proceeded to build Carrie up still higher, by pulling 'Lenadown. Accordingly, every little thing which she could remember, andmany which she could not, were told in an aggravated manner, until quitea case was made out, and 'Lena would never have recognized herself inthe artful, designing creature which her aunt kindly pictured her to be. 

"Of course, " said she, "if you ever repeat this, you will not use myname, for as she is my husband's niece it will not look well in me to beproclaiming her vices, except in cases where I think it my duty. "

Mrs. Graham was too much absorbed in her own reflections to make areply, and as Mrs. Livingstone saw that her company was hardly desired, she soon arose to go, asking Mrs. Graham "why she did not oftener visitMaple Grove. "

When Mrs. Graham felt uncomfortable, she liked to make others so, too, and to her friend's question she answered, "I may as well be plain asnot, and to tell you the truth, I should enjoy visiting you very much, were it not for one thing. That mother of yours----"

"Of my husband's, " interrupted Mrs. Livingstone and Mrs. Grahamcontinued just where she left off. 

"Annoys me exceedingly, by eternally tracing in me a resemblance to somedown-east creature or other--what is her name--Sco--Sco--Scovandyke;yes, that's it--Scovandyke. Of course it's not pleasant for me to betold every time I meet your mother----"

"Mr. Livingstone's mother, " again interrupted the lady. 

"That I look like some of her acquaintances, for I contend that familiesof high birth bear with them marks which cannot be mistaken. "

"Certainly, certainly, " said Mrs. Livingstone, adding, that "she washerself continually annoyed by Mrs. Nichols's vulgarity, but her husbandinsisted that she should come to the table, so what could she do?"

And mutually troubled, the one about her husband, and the other abouther husband's mother, the two amiable ladies parted. 

Scarcely was Mrs. Livingstone gone when Mr. Graham entered the room, finding his wife, who had heard his footsteps, in violent hysterics. Hehad seen her so too often to be alarmed, and was about to pull thebellrope, when she found voice to bid him desist, saying it was himselfwho was killing her by inches, and that the sooner she was dead, thebetter she supposed he would like it. "But, for my sake, " she added, ina kind of howl, between crying and scolding, "do try to behave yourselfduring the short time I have to live, and not go to giving away ponies, and mercy knows what. "

Now, Mr. Graham was not conscious of having looked at a lady, exceptthrough the window, for many days, and when his wife first attacked him, he was at a great loss to understand; but as she proceeded it all becameplain, and on the whole, he felt glad that the worst was over. He wouldnot acknowledge, even to himself, that he was afraid of his wife, stillhe had a little rather she would not always know what he did. Hesupposed, as a matter of course, that she would, earlier or later, hearof his present to 'Lena, and he well knew that such an event wouldsurely be followed by a storm, but after what had taken place betweenthem that morning, he did not expect so much feeling, for he had thoughther wrath nearly expended. But Mrs. Graham was capable of greatthings--as she proved on this occasion, taunting her husband with hispreference for 'Lena, accusing him of loving her better than he didherself, and asking him plainly, if it were not so. 

"Say, " she continued, stamping her foot (the one without a slipper), "say--I will be answered. Don't you like 'Lena better than you do me?"

Mr. Graham was provoked beyond endurance, and to the twice repeatedquestion, he at length replied, "God knows I've far more reason to loveher than I have you. " At the same moment he left the room, in time toavoid a sight of the collapsed state into which his horrified wife whodid not expect such an answer, had fallen. 

"Can I tell her? oh, dare I tell her?" he thought, as he wiped the dropsof perspiration from his brow, and groaned in the bitterness of hisspirit. Terribly was he expiating his fault, but at last he grewcalmer, and cowardice (for he was cowardly, else he had never been whathe was) whispered, "Wait yet awhile. Anything for domestic peace. "

So the secret was buried still deeper in his bosom, he never thinkinghow his conduct would in the end injure the young girl, dearer to himfar than his own life. While he sat thus alone in his room, and as hiswife lay upon her sofa, Durward entered the parlor and begangood-humoredly to rally his mother upon her wobegone face, asking whatwas the matter now. 

"Oh, you poor boy, you, " she sobbed, "you'll soon have no mother to goto, but you must attribute my death wholly to your stepfather, who alonewill be to blame for making you an orphan!"

Durward knew his mother well, and he thought he knew his father too, andwhile he respected him, he blamed her for the unreasonable whims ofwhich he was becoming weary. He knew there had been a jar in themorning, but he had supposed that settled, and now, when he found hismother ten times worse than ever, he felt half vexed, and said, "Do be awoman mother, and not give way to such fancies. I really wonder fathershows as much patience with you as he does, for you make our home veryunpleasant; and really, " he continued, in a laughing tone, "if this goeson much longer, I shall, in self-defense, get me a wife and horns of myown. "

"And if report is true, that wife will be 'Lena Rivers, " said Mrs. Graham, in order to try him. 

"Very likely--I can't tell what may be, " was his answer; to which Mrs. Graham replied, "that it would be extremely pleasant to marry a bridewith whom one's father was in love. "

"How ridiculous!" Durward exclaimed. "As though my father cared aughtfor 'Lena, except to admire her for her beauty and agreeable manners. "

"But, he's acknowledged it. He's just told me, 'God knew he loved herbetter than he did me. ' What do you think of that?"

"Did Mr. Graham say that?" asked Durward, looking his mother directly inher face. 

"Yes he did, not fifteen minutes before you came in, and it's not asecret either. Others know it and talk about it. Think of his givingher that pony. "

Durward was taken by surprise. Knowing none of the circumstances, hefelt deeply pained at his father's remark. He had always supposed heliked 'Lena, and he was glad of it, too, but to love her more than hisown wife, was a different thing, and for the first time in his lifeDurward distrusted his father. Still, 'Lena was not to blame; there wascomfort in that, and that very afternoon found him again at her side, admiring her more and more, and learning each time he saw her to loveher better. And she--she dared not confess to herself how dear he wasto her--she dared not hope her affection was returned. She could notthink of the disappointment the future might bring, so she lived on thepresent, waiting anxiously for his coming, and striving hard to do thethings which she thought would please him best. 

True to her promise, Mabel had commenced giving her instructions uponthe piano, and they were in the midst of their first lesson, when whoshould walk in, but Monsieur Du Pont, bowing, and saying "he had beenhired by von nice gentleman, to give Mademoiselle Rivers lessons inmusique. "

'Lena immediately thought of her uncle, who had once proposed hersharing in the instructions of her cousin, but who, as usual, wasoverruled by his wife. 

"'Twas my uncle, was it not?" she asked of Du Pont, who replied, "Ipromised not to tell. He say, though, he connected with mademoiselle. "

And 'Lena, thinking it was of course Mr. Livingstone, who, on his wife'saccount, wished it a secret, readily consented to receive Du Pont as ateacher in place of Mabel, who still expressed her willingness to assisther whenever it was necessary. Naturally fond of music, 'Lena'simprovement was rapid, and when she found how gratified Durwardappeared, she redoubled her exertions, practicing always five, andsometimes six hours a day. 

CHAPTER XX. 

A FATHER'S LOVE. 

When it was known at Maple Grove that 'Lena was taking lessons of DuPont, it was naturally supposed that Mabel, as she had firstproposed, paid the bills. 

"Mighty kind in her, and no mistake, " said John Jr. , throwing asidethe stump of a cigar which he had been smoking, and thinking tohimself that "Mabel was a nice girl, after all. "

The next day, finding the time hang heavily upon his hands, hesuddenly wondered why he had never thought to call upon 'Lena. "Tobe sure, I'll feel awfully to go where Nellie used to be, and knowshe is not there, but it's lonesomer than a graveyard here, and I'mbound to do something. "

So saying, he mounted Firelock and started off, followed by noregrets from his mother or sisters, for since Nellie went away he hadbeen intolerably cross and fault-finding. He found a servant in thedoor, so he was saved the trouble of ringing, and enteringunannounced, walked noiselessly to the parlor-door, which was ajar. 'Lena, as usual, sat at the piano, wholly absorbed, while over herbent Mabel, who was assisting her in the lesson, speakingencouragingly, and patiently helping her through all the difficultplaces. Mabel's health was improved since first we saw her, andthough she was still plain--ugly, many would say--there was somethingpleasing in her face, and in the expression of her black, eyes, whichlooked down so kindly upon 'Lena. John Jr. Noticed it, and neverbefore had Mabel appeared to so good advantage to him as she did atthat moment, as he watched her through the open door. 

At last the lesson was finished, and rising up, 'Lena said, "I know Ishould never learn if it were not for you, " at the same time windingher arm about Mabel's neck and kissing her glowing cheek. 

"Let me have a share of that, " exclaimed John Jr. , stepping forwardand clasping both the girls in his arms ere they were aware of hispresence. 

With a gay laugh they shook him off, and 'Lena, leading him to thesofa, sat down beside him, asking numerous questions about home andher grandmother. John answered them all, and then, oh how he longedto ask if there had come any tidings of the absent one; but he wouldnot--she had left him of her own accord, and he had sworn never toinquire for her. So he sat gazing dreamily upon her piano, the chairshe used to occupy and the books she used to read, until 'Lena, either divining his thoughts, or fancying he would wish to know, said, "We've not heard from Nellie since she left us. "

"You didn't expect to, so soon, I suppose, " was John's indifferentreply. 

"Why, no, not unless they chanced to speak a ship. I wish they'dtaken a steamer instead of a sailing vessel, " said 'Lena. 

"I suppose Mr. Wilbur had an eye upon the long, cosy chats he couldhave with Nellie, looking out upon the sea, " was John's answer, whileMabel quickly rejoined, that "he had chosen a sailing vessel solelyon Mary's account. "

In the midst of their conversation, the door-bell rang; and a momentafter, Durward was ushered into the parlor. "He was in town onbusiness, " he said, "and thought he would call. "

Scarcely had he taken his seat, when again the door opened, this timeadmitting Mr. Graham, who was returning from Louisville, and had alsofound it convenient to call. Involuntarily Durward glanced toward'Lena, but her face was as calm and unruffled as if the visitor hadbeen her uncle. 

"All right there, " thought he, and withdrawing his eyes from her, hefixed them upon his father, who he fancied seemed somewhatdisconcerted when he saw him there. Mentally blaming himself for thedistrust which he felt rising within him, he still determined towatch, and judge for himself how far his mother's suspicions werecorrect. Taking up a book which lay near, he pretended to bereading, while all the time his thoughts were elsewhere. It was'Lena's lesson-day, and erelong Du Pont came in, appearing bothpleased and surprised when he saw Mr. Graham. 

"I hope you don't expect me to expose my ignorance before all thesepeople, " said 'Lena, as Du Pont motioned her to the stool. 

"Suppose we adjourn to another room, " said Mabel, leading the way andfollowed by John Jr. Only. 

Durward at first thought of leaving also, and arose to do so, but onobserving that his father showed no intention of going, he resumedhis seat and book, poring over the latter as intently as if it hadnot been wrong side up!

"Does monsieur incline to stay, " asked Du Pont, as Mr. Graham tookhis station at the end of the piano. 

"Certainly, " answered Mr. Graham, "unless Miss Rivers insists upon myleaving, which I am sure she would not do if she knew how muchinterest I take in her progress. "

So, during the entire lesson, Mr. Graham stood there, his eyes fixedupon 'Lena with a look which puzzled Durward, who from behind hisbook was watching him. Admiration, affection, pity and remorse, allseemed mingled in the expression of his face, and as Durward watched, he felt that there was a something which he could not fathom. 

"I never knew he was so fond of music, " thought he--"I mean to puthim to the test. "

Accordingly, when Du Pont was gone, he asked Mabel, who he knew wasan excellent pianist, to favor him with one of her very bestpieces--"something lively and new which will wake us up, " said he. 

Mabel would greatly have preferred remaining with John Jr. , but shewas habitually polite, always playing when invited, and now takingher seat at the piano, she brought out sounds far different fromthose of a new performer. But Mr. Graham, if he heard it, did notheed it, his eyes and ears being alone for 'Lena. Seating himselfnear her, he commenced talking to her in an undertone, apparentlyoblivious to everything else around him, and it was not until Durwardtwice asked how he liked Mabel's playing, that he heard a note. Then, starting up and going toward the instrument, he said, "Ah, yes, that was a fine march, ('twas the 'Rainbow Schottish, ' then new, )please repeat it, or something just like it!"

Durward bit his lip, while Mabel, in perfect good humor, dashed offinto a spirited quickstep, receiving but little attention from Mr. Graham, who seemed in a strange mood to-day, scribbling upon a pieceof white paper which lay upon the piano, and of which Durward managedto get possession, finding thereon the name, "Helena Nichols, " towhich was added that of "Rivers, " the Nichols being crossed out. Itwould seem as if both father and son were determined each to outstaythe other, for hour after hour went by and neither spoke of leaving, although John Jr. Had been gone some time. At last, as the sun wassetting, Durward arose to go, asking if his father contemplatedspending the night; "and if so, " said he, with a meaning in hismanner, "where shall I tell my mother I left you?"

This roused Mr. Graham, who said he was only waiting for his son tostart, adding, that "he could not find it in his heart to tear himaway from two so agreeable ladies, for he well remembered theweakness of his own youth. "

"In your second youth, now, I fancy, " thought Durward, watching himas he bade 'Lena and Mabel goodbye, and not failing to see how muchlonger he held the hand of the former than he did of the latter. 

"Does she see as I do, or not?" thought he, as he took the hand hisfather dropped, and looked earnestly into the clear, brown eyes, which returned his inquiring glance with one open and innocent as alittle child. 

"All right here, " again thought Durward, slightly pressing the soft, warm hand he held in his own, and smiling down upon her when he sawhow quickly that pressure brought the tell-tale blood to her cheek. 

 * * * * *

"Durward, " said Mr. Graham, after they were out of the city, "I havea request to make of you. "

"Well. "

The answer was very short and it was several minutes ere Mr. Grahamagain spoke. 

"You know your mother as well as I do----"

"Well. "

Another silence, and Mr. Graham continued; "You know how groundlesslyjealous she is of me--and it may be just as well for her not to knowthat----"

Here he paused, and Durward finished the sentence for him. 

"Just as well for her not to know that you've spent the afternoonwith 'Lena Rivers; is that it?"

"That's it--yes--yes"--answered Mr. Graham, adding, ere Durward hadtime to utter the angry words which he felt rising within him, "Iwish you'd marry 'Lena. "

This was so sudden--so different from anything which Durward hadexpected, that he was taken quite by surprise, and it was some littletime ere he answered, "Perhaps I shall. "

"I wish you would, " continued Mr. Graham, "I'd willingly give everydollar I'm worth for the privilege of calling her my daughter. "

Durward was confounded, and knew not what to think. If his fatherhad an undue regard for 'Lena, why should he wish to see her the wifeof another, and that other his son? Was it his better and noblernature struggling to save her from evil, which prompted the wish?Durward hoped so--he believed so; and the confidence which had sorecently been shaken was fully restored, when, by the light of thehall lamp at home, he saw how white and almost ghostly was the facewhich, ere they entered the drawing-room, turned imploringly uponhim, asking him "to be careful. "

Mrs. Graham had been in a fit of the sulks ever since the morning ofMrs. Livingstone's call, and now, though she had not seen her husbandfor several days, she merely held out her hand, turning her head, meantime, and replying to his questions in a low, quiet kind of amuch-injured-woman way, as provoking as it was uncalled for. 

 * * * * *

"Father's suggestion was a good one, " thought Durward, when he hadretired to rest. "'Lena is too beautiful to be alone in the world. I will propose to her at once, and she will thus be out of danger. "

But what should he do with her? Should he bring her there toWoodlawn, where scarcely a day passed without some domestic storm?No, his home should be full of sunlight, of music and flowers, whereno angry word or darkening frown could ever find entrance; and thusdreaming of a blissful future, when 'Lena should be his bride, hefell asleep. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

JOEL SLOCUM. 

In this chapter it may not be out of place to introduce an individualwho, though not a very important personage, is still in some degreeconnected with our story. On the night when Durward and his fatherwere riding home from Frankfort, the family at Maple Grove, with theexception of grandma, were as usual assembled in the parlor. JohnJr. Had returned, and purposely telling his mother and Carrie whom hehad left with 'Lena, had succeeded in putting them both into anuncomfortable humor, the latter secretly lamenting the mistake whichshe had committed in suffering 'Lena to stay with Mabel. But itcould not be remedied now. There was no good reason for calling herhome, and the lady broke at least three cambric-needles in hervigorous jerks at the handkerchief she was hemming. 

A heavy tread upon the piazza, a loud ring of the bell, and Carriestraightened up, thinking it might possibly be Durward, who hadcalled on his way home, but the voice was strange, and ratherimpatiently she waited. 

"Does Mr. John Livingstone live here?" asked the stranger of thenegro who answered the summons. 

"Yes, sir, " answered the servant, eyeing the new comer askance. 

"And is old Miss Nichols and Helleny to hum?"

The negro grinned, answering in the affirmative, and asking the youngman to walk in. 

"Wall, guess I will, " said he, advancing a few steps toward theparlor door. Then suddenly halting, he added, more to himself thanto the negro, "Darned if I don't go the hull figger, and send in mycard as they do to Boston. "

So saying, he drew from his pocket an embossed card, and bending hisknee for a table, he wrote with sundry nourishes, "Mr. Joel Slocum, Esq. , Slocumville, Massachusetts. "

"There, hand that to your _boss_, " said he, "and tell him I'm out inthe entry. " At the same time he stepped before the hat-stand, rubbing up his oily hair, and thinking "Mr. Joel Slocum would make animpression anywhere. "

"Who is it, Ben ?" whispered Carrie. 

"Dunno, miss, " said the negro, passing the card to his master, andwaiting in silence for his orders. 

"Mr. Joel Slocum, Esq. , Slocumville, Massachusetts, " slowly read Mr. Livingstone, wondering where he had heard that name before. 

"Who?" simultaneously asked Carrie and Anna, while their motherlooked wonderingly up. 

Instantly John Jr. Remembered 'Lena's love-letter, and anticipatingfun, exclaimed, "Show him in, Ben--show him in. "

While Ben is showing him in, we will introduce him more fully to ourreaders, promising that the picture is not overdrawn, but such as wesaw it in our native state. Joel belonged to that extreme class ofYankees with which we sometimes, though not often meet. Brought upamong the New England mountains, he was almost wholly ignorant ofwhat really belonged to good manners, fancying that he kneweverything, and sneering at those of his acquaintance who, being of amore quiet turn of mind, were content to settle down in the home oftheir fathers, caring little or nothing for the world without. Butas for him, "he was bound, " he said, "to see the elephant, and if hisbrothers were green enough to stay tied to their mother's apronstrings, they might do it, but he wouldn't. No, _sir_! he was goingto make something of himself. "

To effect this, about two years before the time of which we arespeaking, he went to Boston to learn the art of daguerreotype-taking, in which he really did seem to excel, returning home with some money, a great deal of vanity, and a strong propensity to boast of what hehad seen. Recollections of 'Lena, his early, and, as hesentimentally expressed it, "his undying, all-enduring" love, stillhaunted him, and at last he determined upon a tour to Kentucky, purchasing for the occasion a rather fantastic suit, consisting ofgreenish pants, blue coat, red vest, and yellow neck-handkerchief. These he laid carefully by in his trunk until he reached Lexington, where he intended stopping for a time, hanging out a naming sign, which announced his presence and capabilities. 

After spending a few days in the city, endeavoring to impress itsinhabitants with a sense of his consequence, and mentally stylingthem all "Know Nothings, " be-cause they did not seem to be moreaffected, he one afternoon donned his best suit, and started for Mr. Livingstone's, thinking he should create a sensation there, forwasn't he as good as anybody? Didn't he learn his trade in Boston, the very center and source of all the _isms_ of the day, and oughtnot Mr. Livingstone to feel proud of such a guest, and wouldn't 'Lenastare when she saw him so much improved from what he was when theypicked _checkerberries_ together?

With this comfortable opinion of himself, it is not at all probablethat he felt any misgivings when Ben ushered him at once into thepresence of Mr. Livingstone's family, who stared at him in unfeignedastonishment. Nothing daunted, he went through with the five changesof a bow, which he had learned at a dancing-school, bringing himselfup finally in front of Mr. Livingstone, and exclaiming, "How-dy-do?--Mr. Livingstone, I 's'pose, it comes more natural to saycousin John, I've heard Miss Nichols and Aunt Nancy talk of you sinceI was knee high, and seems as how you must be related. How is theold lady, and Helleny, too? I don't see 'em here, though I thought, at fust, this might be her, " nodding to Anna. 

Mr. Livingstone was confounded, while his wife had strong intentionsof ordering the intruder from the room, but John Jr. Had no suchidea. He liked the fun, and now coming forward, said, "Mr. Slocum, as your card indicates, allow me the pleasure of presenting you to mymother--and sisters, " at the same time ringing the bell, he ordered aservant to go for his grandmother. 

"Ah, ladies, how-dy-do? Hope you are well till we are betteracquainted, " said Joel, bowing low, and shaking out the folds of hisred silk handkerchief, strongly perfumed with peppermint. 

Mrs. Livingstone did not even nod, Carrie but slightly, while Annasaid, "Good-evening, Mr. Slocum. "

Quickly observing Mrs. Livingstone's silence, Joel turned to JohnJr. , saying, "Don't believe she heard you--deaf, mebby?"

John Jr. Nodded, and at that moment grandma appeared, in a greatflurry to know who wanted to see her. 

Instantly seizing her hand, Joel exclaimed, "Now Aunt Martha, if thisain't good for sore eyes. How _do_ you do ?"

"Pretty well, pretty well, " she returned, "but you've got the betterof me, for I don't know more'n the dead who you be. "

"Now how you talk, " said Joel. "If this don't beat all my fustwife's relations. Why, I should have known you if I'd met you in aporridge-pot. But then, I s'pose I've altered for the better since Isee you. Don't you remember Joel Slocum, that used to have kind of asnickerin' notion after Helleny?"

"Why-ee, I guess I do, " answered grandma, again seizing his hand. "Where did you come from, and why didn't your Aunt Nancy come withyou?

"'Tilda, this is Nancy Scovandyke's sister's boy. Caroline and Anny, this is Joel; you've heard tell of him. "

"I've been introduced, thank you, " said Joel, taking a seat nearCarrie, who haughtily gathered up the ample folds of her dress, lestit should be polluted. 

"Bashful critter, but she'll get over it by the time she's seen asmuch of the world as I have, " soliloquized Joel; at the same timethinking to make some advances, he hitched a little nearer, andtaking hold of a strip of embroidery on which she was engaged, hesaid, "Now, du tell, if they've got to workin' with floss way downhere. Waste of time, I tell 'em, this makin' holes for the sake ofsewin' 'em up. But law!" he added, as he saw the deepening scowl onCarrie's face, "wimmin may jest as well by putterin' about that asanything else, for their time ain't nothin' moren' an old settin'hen's. "

This speech called forth the first loud roar in which John Jr. Hadindulged since Nellie went away, and now settling back in his chair, he gave vent to his feelings in peals of laughter, in which Joel alsojoined, thinking he'd said something smart. When at last he'dfinished laughing, he thought again of 'Lena, and turning to Mrs. Livingstone, asked where she was, raising his voice to a high key onaccount of her supposed deafness. 

"Did you speak to me?" asked the lady, with a look which she meantshould annihilate him, and in a still louder tone Joel repeated hisquestion, asking Anna, aside, if her mother had ever tried"McAllister's All-Healing Ointment, " for her deafness, saying it had"nighly cured his grandmother when she was several years older thanMrs. Livingstone. "

"Much obliged for your prescription, which, fortunately, I do notneed, " said Mrs. Livingstone, angrily, while Joel thought, "howstrange it was that deaf people would always hear in the wrong time!"

"Mother don't seem inclined to answer your question concerning'Lena, " said John Jr. , "so I will do it for her. She is inFrankfort, taking music lessons. You used to know her, I believe. "

"Lud, yes! I chased her once with a streaked snake, and if shedidn't put 'er through, then I'm no 'Judge. Takin' music lessons, isshe? I'd give a fo' pence to hear her play. "

"Are you fond of music?" asked John Jr. , in hopes of what followed. 

"Wall, I wouldn't wonder much if I was, " answered Joel, taking atuning-fork from his pocket and striking it upon the table. "I'vekep' singin' school one term, besides leadin' the Methodis' choir inSlocumville: so I orto know a little somethin' about it. "

"Perhaps you play, and if so, we'd like to hear you, " continued JohnJr. , in spite of the deprecating glance cast upon him by Carrie. 

"Not such a dreadful sight, " answered Joel, sauntering toward thepiano and drumming a part of "Auld Lang Syne. " "Not such a dreadfulsight, but I guess these girls do. Come, girls, play us a jig, won'tyou?"

"Go, Cad, it won't hurt you, " whispered John, but Carrie wasimmovable, and at last, Anna, who entered more into her brother'sspirit, took her seat at the instrument, asking what he would have. 

"Oh, give us 'Money Musk, ' 'Hail Columby, ' 'Old Zip Coon, ' oranything to raise a feller's ideas. "

Fortunately, Anna's forte lay in playing old music, which shepreferred to more modern pieces, and, Joel was soon beating time tothe lively strains of "Money Musk. "

"Wall, I declare, " said he, when it was ended, "I don't see but whatyou Kentucky gals play most as well as they do to hum. I didn'ts'pose many on you ever seen a pianner. Come, " turning to Carrie, "less see what you can do. Mebby you'll beat her all holler, " and heoffered his hand to Carrie, who rather petulantly said she "must beexcused. "

"Oh, get out, " he continued. "You needn't feel so bashful, for Ishan't criticise you very hard. I know how to feel fer newbeginners. "

"Have you been to supper, Mr. Slocum ?" asked Mr. Livingstone, pitying Carrie, and wishing to put an end to the performance. 

"No, I hain't, and I'm hungrier than a bear, " answered Joel, whereupon Mrs. Nichols, thinking he was her guest, arose, saying shewould see that he had some. 

When both were gone to the dining-room, Mrs. Livingstone's wrathboiled over. 

"That's what comes of harboring your relatives, " said she, lookingindignantly upon her husband, and adding that she hoped "the insolentfellow did not intend staying all night, for if he did he couldn't. "

"Do you propose turning him into the street?" asked Mr. Livingstone, looking up from his paper. 

"I don't propose anything, except that he won't stay in my house, andyou needn't ask him. "

"I hardly think an invitation is necessary, for I presume he expectsto stay, " returned Mr. Livingstone; while John Jr. Rejoined, "Ofcourse he does, and if mother doesn't find him a room, I shall takehim in with me, besides going to Frankfort with him to-morrow. "

This was enough, for Mrs. Livingstone would do almost anything ratherthan have her son seen in the city with that specimen. Accordingly, when the hour for retiring arrived, she ordered Corinda to show himinto the "east chamber, " a room used for her common kind of visitors, but which Joel pronounced "as neat as a fiddle. "

The next morning he announced his intention of visiting Frankfort, proposing to grandma that she should accompany him, and she was aboutmaking up her mind to do so, when 'Lena and Mabel both appeared inthe yard. They had come out for a ride, they said, and finding themorning so fine, had extended their excursion as far as Maple Grove, sending their servant back to tell where they were going. With hisusual assurance, Joel advanced toward 'Lena, greeting her tenderly, and whispering in her ear that "he found she was greatly improved aswell as himself, " while 'Lena wondered in what the improvementconsisted. She had formerly known him as a great, overgrown, good-natured boy, and now she saw him a "conceited gawky. " Still, hermanner was friendly toward him, for he had come from her old home, had breathed the air of her native hills, and she well rememberedhow, years ago, he had with her planted and watered the flowers whichhe told her were still growing at her mother's grave. 

And yet there was something about her which puzzled Joel, who feltthat the difference between them was great. He was disappointed, andthe declaration which he had fully intended making was left untilanother time, when, as he thought, "he shouldn't be so confounded shyof her. " His quarters, too, at Maple Grove were not the mostpleasant, for no one noticed him except grandma and John Jr. , andwith the conviction that "the Kentuckians didn't know what politenessmeant, " he ordered his horse after dinner, and started back toLexington, inviting all the family to call and "set for theirpicters, " saying that "seein' 'twas them, he'd take 'em for halfprice. "

As he was leaving the piazza, he turned back, and drawing a large, square case from his pocket, passed it to 'Lena, saying it was adaguerreotype of her mountain home, which he had taken on purpose forher, forgetting to give it to her until that minute. The look of joywhich lighted up 'Lena's face made Joel almost repent of not havingsaid to her what he intended to, but thinking he would wait till nexttime, he started off, his heart considerably lightened by her warmthanks for his thoughtfulness. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE DAGUERREOTYPE. 

"Look, grandmother!--a picture of our old home. Isn't it natural?"exclaimed Lena, as she ran back to the parlor. 

Yes, it was natural, and the old lady's tears gushed forth the momentshe looked upon it. There was the well, the garden, the gatepartially open, the barn in the rear, now half fallen down, thecurtain of the west window rolled up as it was wont to be, while onthe doorstep, basking in the warm sunshine, lay a cat, which Mrs. Nichols' declared was hers. 

"John ought to see this, " said she, wiping the tears from her eyes, and turning towards the door, which at that moment opened, admittingher son, together with Mr. Graham, who had accidentally called. "Look here, John, " said she, calling him to her side--"Do youremember this?"

The deep flush which mounted to John's brow, showed that he did, andhis mother, passing it toward Mr. Graham, continued: "It is our oldhome in Massachusetts. There's the room where John and Helleny bothwere born, and where Helleny and her father died. Oh, it seems butyesterday since she died, and they carried her out of this door, anddown the road, there--do you see?"

This question, was addressed to Mr. Graham, who, whether he saw ornot, made no answer, but walked to the window and looked out, uponthe prospect beyond, which for him had no attractions then. Thesight of that daguerreotype had stirred up many bitter memories, andfor some time he stood gazing vacantly through the window, andthinking--who shall say of what? It would seem that thedaguerreotype possessed a strong fascination for him, for after ithad been duly examined and laid down, he took it in his hand, inspecting it minutely, asking where it was taken, and if it would bepossible to procure a similar one. 

"I have a fancy for such scenes, " said he, "and would like to havejust such a picture. Mr. Slocum is stopping in Lexington, you say. He can take one from this, I suppose. I mean to see him;" and withhis usual good-morning, he departed. 

Two weeks from this time Durward again went down to Frankfort, determining, if a favorable opportunity presented itself, to offer'Lena his heart and fortune. 

He found her alone, Mabel having gone out to spend the day. For atime they conversed together on indifferent topics, each one of whichwas entirely foreign from that which lay nearest Durward's heart. Atlast the conversation turned upon Joel Slocum, of whose visit Durwardhad heard. 

"I really think, 'Lena, " said he, laughingly, "that you ought topatronize the poor fellow, who has come all this distance for thesake of seeing you. Suppose you have your daguerreotype taken forme, will you?"

Durward was in earnest, but with a playful shake of her brown curls, 'Lena answered lightly, "Oh, no, no. I have never had my picturetaken in my life, and I shan't begin with Joel. "

"Never had it taken!" repeated Durward, in some surprise. 

"No, never, " said 'Lena, and Durward continued drawing her nearer tohim, "It is time you had, then. So have it taken for me. I meanwhat I say, " he continued, as he met the glance of her merry eyes. "There is nothing I should prize more than your miniature, except, indeed the original, which you will not refuse me, when I ask it, will you?"

'Lena's mirth was all gone--she knew he was in earnest now. She feltit in the pressure of his arm, which encircled her waist; she saw itin his eye, and heard it in the tones of his voice. But what shouldshe say? Closer he drew her to his side; she felt his breath uponher cheek; and an inaudible answer trembled on her lips, whennoiselessly through the door came _Mr. Graham_, starting when he sawtheir position, and offering to withdraw if he was intruding. 'Lenawas surprised and excited, and springing up, she laid her hand uponhis arm as he was about to leave the room, bidding him stay andsaying he was always welcome there. 

So he stayed, and with the first frown upon his brow which 'Lena hadever seen, Durward left--left without receiving an answer to hisquestion, or even referring to it again, though 'Lena accompanied himto the door, half dreading, yet hoping, he would repeat it. But hedid not, and wishing her much pleasure in his father's company, hewalked away, writing in his heart bitter things against _him_, nother. On his way home he fell in with Du Pont, who, Frenchman-like, had taken a little too much wine, and was very talkative. 

"Vous just come from Mademoiselle Rivers, " said he. "She be von finegirl. What relation be she to Monsieur Graham?"

"None whatever. Why do you ask?"

"Because he pay her musique lessons and----"

Here Du Pont suddenly remembered his promise, so he kept back Mr. Graham's assertion that he was a near relative, adding in its place, that "he thought probable he related; but you no tell, " said he, "forMonsieur bid me keep secret and I forgot. "

Here, having reached a cross-road, they parted, and again Durwardwrote down bitter things against his father, for what could be hisobject in wishing it kept a secret that he was paying for 'Lena'slessons, or why did he pay for them at all--and did 'Lena know it?He thought not, and for a time longer was she blameless in his eyes. 

On reaching home he found both the parlor and drawing-room deserted, and upon inquiry learned that his mother was in her own room. Something, he could hardly tell what, prompted him to knock foradmission, which being granted, he entered, finding her unusuallypale, with the trace of tears still upon her cheek. This of itselfwas so common an occurrence, that he would hardly have observed ithad not there been about her a look of unfeigned distress which hehad seldom seen before. 

"What's the matter, mother?" said he, advancing toward her; "What hashappened to trouble you?"

Without any reply, Mrs. Graham placed in his hand a richly-caseddaguerreotype, and laying her head upon the table, sobbed aloud. Amoment Durward stood transfixed to the spot, for on opening the case, the fair, beautiful face of 'Lena Rivers looked smilingly out uponhim!

"Where did you get this, mother?--how came you by it?" he asked, andshe answered, that in looking through her husband's private drawer, the key of which she had accidentally found in his vest pocket, shehad come upon it, together with a curl of soft chestnut-brown hairwhich she threw across Durward's finger, and from which he recoiledas from a viper's touch. 

For several minutes not a word was spoken by either, and then Mrs. Graham, looking him in the face, said, "You recognize thatcountenance, of course?"

"I do, " he replied, in a voice husky with emotion, for Durward wasterribly moved. 

Twice had 'Lena asserted that never in her life had her daguerreotypebeen taken, and yet he held it in his hands; there was no mistakingit--the same broad, open brow--the same full, red lips--the samesmile--and more than all, the same clustering ringlets, thougharranged a little differently from what she usually wore them, thehair on the picture being combed smoothly over the forehead, while'Lena's was generally brushed up after the style of the prevailingfashion. Had Durward examined minutely, he might have found otherpoints of difference, but he did not think of that. A look hadconvinced him that 'twas 'Lena--his 'Lena, he had fondly hoped tocall her. But that was over now--she had deceived him--told him adeliberate falsehood--refused him her daguerreotype and given it tohis father, whose secrecy concerning it indicated something wrong. His faith was shaken, and yet for the sake of what she had been tohim, he would spare her good name. He could not bear to hear theworld breathe aught against her, for possibly she might be innocent;but no, there was no mistaking the falsehood, and Durward groaned inbitterness as he handed the picture to his mother, bidding her returnit where she found it. Mrs. Graham had never seen her son thusmoved, and obeying him, she placed her hand upon his arm, asking, "why he was so affected--what she was to him?"

"Everything, everything, " said he, laying his face upon the table. "'Lena Rivers was all the world to me. I loved her as I shall neverlove again. "

And then, without withholding a thing, Durward told his motherall--how he had that very morning gone to Frankfort with theintention of offering 'Lena his hand--how he had partially done so, when they were interrupted by the entrance of a visitor, he did notsay whom. 

"Thank heaven for your escape. I can bear your father's conduct, ifit is the means of saving you from her, " exclaimed Mrs. Graham, whileher son continued: "And now, mother, I have a request to make ofyou--a request which you must grant. I have loved 'Lena too well tocease from loving her so soon. And though I can never again think tomake her my wife, I will not hear her name lightly spoken by theworld, who must never know what we do. Promise me, mother, to keepsecret whatever you may know against her. "

"Do you think me bereft of my senses, " asked Mrs. Graham petulantly, "that I should wish to proclaim my affairs to every one?"

"No, no, mother, " he answered, "but you are easily excited, and saythings you had better not. Mrs. Livingstone bears 'Lena no goodwill, you know, and sometimes when she is speaking disparagingly ofher, you may be thrown off your guard, and tell what you know. Butthis must not be. Promise me, mother, will you?"

Durward was very pale, and the drops of sweat stood thickly about hismouth as he asked this of his mother who, mentally congratulatingherself upon her son's escape, promised what he asked, at the sametime repeating to him all that she heard from Mrs. Livingstoneconcerning 'Lena, until Durward interrupted her with, "Stop, stop, I've heard enough. Nothing which Mrs. Livingstone could say wouldhave weighed a straw, but the conviction of my own eyes and ears haveundeceived me, and henceforth 'Lena and I are as strangers. "

Nothing could please Mrs. Graham better, for the idea of her son'smarrying a poor, unknown girl, was dreadful, and though she feltindignant toward her husband so peculiar was her nature that shewould not have had matters otherwise if she could and when Durward, who disliked _scenes_, suggested the propriety of her not speaking tohis father on the subject at present he assented, saying that itwould be more easy for her to refrain, as she was intending to startfor Louisville on the morrow. 

"I've been contemplating a visit there for some time and before Mr. Graham left home this morning, I had decided to go, " said she, at thesame time proposing that Durward should accompany her. 

To this consented willingly, for in the first shock of hisdisappointment, a change of place and scene was what he most desired. The hot blood of the south, which burned in his veins, seemed all onfire, and he felt that he could not, for the present, at least bedaily associated with his stepfather. An absence of several days, hethought, might have the effect of calming him down. It wasaccordingly decided that he should on the morrow, start with her forLouisville, to be gone two weeks; and with this understanding theyparted, Durward going to his own chamber, there to review the pastand strive, if possible, to efface from his heart every memory of'Lena, whom he had loved so well. But 'twas all in vain; he couldnot so soon forget her and far into the hours of night he sat alonestriving to frame some excuse for her conduct. The fact that hisfather possessed her daguerreotype might possibly be explained, without throwing censure upon her; but the falsehood--never; and withthe firm conviction that she was lost to him forever, he at lastretired to rest, just as the clock in the ball below proclaimed thehour of midnight. 

Meantime, Mrs. Graham was pondering in her own mind the probableresult of a letter which, in the heat of passion, she had that daydispatched to 'Lena, accusing her of "marring the domestic peace of ahitherto happy family, " and while she cast some reflections upon herbirth, commanding her never, under any circumstances, "to ventureinto her presence!"

This cruel letter had been sent to the office before Durward'sreturn, and as she well knew how much he would disapprove of it, sheresolved not to tell him, secretly hoping 'Lena would keep her owncounsel. "Base creature!" said she, "to give my husband herlikeness--but he shall never see it again;" and with stealthy stepshe advanced toward the secret drawer, which she again opened, andtaking from it both daguerreotype and ringlet, locked it, replacingthe key in the pocket where she found it. Then seizing the long, bright curl, she hurled it into the glowing grate, shuddering as shedid so, and trembling, as if she really knew a wrong had been done tothe dead. 

Opening the case, she looked once more upon the hated features, whichnow seemed to regard her mournfully, as if reproaching her for whatshe had done. No part of the dress was visible--nothing except thehead and neck, which was uncovered, and over which fell the chestnutcurls, whose companion so recently lay seething and scorching on theburning coals. 

There was a footstep without--her husband had returned--and quick asthought was the daguerreotype concealed, while Mrs. Graham, forcingdown her emotion, took up a book, which she seemed to be intentlyreading when her husband entered. After addressing to her a fewcommonplace remarks, all of which she answered civilly, he went tothe wardrobe, and on pretense of looking for his knife, which, hesaid he believed he left in his vest pocket, he took out the key, andthen carelessly proceeded to unlock his private drawer, his wifewatching him the while, and keenly enjoying his look of consternationwhen he saw that his treasure was gone. Again and again was hisdrawer searched, but all to no purpose, and casting an anxious glancetoward his wife, whose face, for a wonder, betrayed no secret, hecommenced walking the floor in a very perturbed state of mind, hiswife exulting in his discomfiture, and thinking herself amply avengedfor all that she had endured. 

At last he spoke, telling her of a letter which he had that dayreceived from South Carolina, containing the news of the death of adistant relative, who had left him some property. "It is notnecessary for me to be there in person, " said he, "but still I shouldlike to visit my old home once more. What do you think of it?"

"Go, by all means, " said she, glad of anything which would placedistance between him and 'Lena. "No one can attend to your businessone-half as well as yourself. When will you start if you go?"

"Immediately--before your return from Louisville--unless you wish toaccompany me. "

"I'm afraid I should be an incumbrance, and would rather not, " saidshe, in a way which puzzled him, causing him to wonder what had comeover her. 

"You can do as you choose, " said he, "but I should be glad of yourcompany. "

"No, I thank you, " was her laconic reply, as she, in turn, wonderedwhat had come over him. 

The next morning the carriage came up to the door to convey Mrs. Graham and Durward to Frankfort. The latter was purposely late, andhe did not see his father until he came down, traveling-bag in hand, to enter the carriage. Then Mr. Graham asked, in some surprise, "where he was going?"

"With my mother to Louisville, sir, " answered Durward, stiffly. "Iam not willing she should travel alone, if you are;" and he spranginto the carriage, ordering the coachman to drive off ere anotherword could be spoken. 

"Gone, when I had nerved myself to tell him everything!--my usualluck!" mused Mr. Graham, as he returned to the house, and sure of noprying eyes, recommenced his search for the daguerreotype, which wasnowhere to be found. Could she have found it? Impossible! for itwas not in her jealous nature to have held her peace; and again hesought for it, but all to no purpose, and finally thinking he musthave taken it with him and lost it, he gave it up, mourning more forthe loss of the curl, which could never, never be replaced, while thepicture might be found. 

"Why do I live so?" thought he, as he nervously paced the room. "Mylife is one of continual fear and anxiety, but it shall be so nolonger. I'll tell her all when she returns. I'll brave the world, dare her displeasure, take 'Lena home, and be a man. "

Satisfied with this resolution, and nothing doubting that he shouldkeep it, he started for Versailles, where he had an engagement with agentleman who transacted business for him in Lexington. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE LETTER AND ITS EFFECT. 

Mabel had gone out, and 'Lena sat alone in the little room adjoiningthe parlor which Mr. Douglass termed his library, but which Nelliehad fitted up for a private sewing-room. It was 'Lena's favoriteresort when she wished to be alone, and as Mabel was this morningabsent, she had retired thither, not to work, but to think--to recallevery word and look of Durward's, to wonder when and how he wouldrepeat the question, the answer to which had been prevented by Mr. Graham. 

Many and blissful were her emotions as she sat there, wondering if itwere not a bright dream, from which she would too soon awaken, forcould it be that one so noble, so good, and so much sought for asDurward Bellmont had chosen her, of all others, to be his bride?Yes, it must be so, for he was not one to say or act what he did notmean; he would come that day and repeat what he had said before; andshe blushed as she thought what her answer would be. 

There was a knock on the door, and a servant entered, bringing her aletter, which she eagerly seized, thinking it was from him. But'twas not his writing, though bearing the post-mark of Versailles. Hastily she broke the seal, and glancing at the signature, turnedpale, for it was "Lucy Graham, " his mother, who had written, but forwhat, she could not guess. A moment more and she fell back on thesofa, white and rigid as a piece of marble. 'Twas a cruel andinsulting letter, containing many dark insinuations, which she, beingwholly innocent; could not understand. She knew indeed, that Mr. Graham had presented her with Vesta, but was there anything wrong inthat? She did not think so, else she had never taken her. Heruncle, her cousin, and Durward, all three approved of her acceptingit, the latter coming with it himself--so it could not be that; andfor a long time Lena wept passionately, resolving one moment toanswer the letter as it deserved determining, the next, to go herselfand see Mrs. Graham face to face; and then concluding to treat itwith silent contempt, trusting that Durward would erelong appear andmake it all plain between them. 

At last, about five o'clock, Mabel returned, bringing theintelligence that Mrs. Graham was in the city, at the Weisiger House, where she was going to remain until the morrow. She had met with anaccident, which prevented her arrival in Frankfort until the trainwhich she was desirous of taking had left. 

"Is her husband with her?" asked 'Lena, to which Mabel replied, thatshe understood she was alone. 

"Then I'll see her and know what she means, " thought 'Lena, trembling, even then, at the idea of venturing into the presence ofthe cold, haughty woman. 

 * * * * * *

Supper was over at the Weisiger House, and in a handsome privateparlor Mrs. Graham lay, half asleep, upon the sofa, while in thedressing-room adjoining Durward sat, trying to frame a letter whichshould tell poor 'Lena that their intimacy was forever at an end. For hours, and until the last gleam of daylight had faded away, hehad sat by the window, watching each youthful form which passed upand, down the busy street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her who oncehad made his world. But his watch was in vain, and now he had satdown to write, throwing aside sheet after sheet, as he thought itsbeginning too cold, too harsh, or too affectionate. He was aboutmaking up his mind not to write at all, but to let matters take theircourse, when a knock at his mother's door, and the announcement thata lady wished to see her arrested his attention. 

"Somebody want to see me? Just show her up, " said Mrs. Graham, smoothing down her flaxen hair, and wiping from between her eyes aspot of powder which the opposite mirror revealed. 

In a moment the visitor entered--a slight, girlish form, whosefeatures were partially hidden from view by a heavy lace veil, whichwas thrown over her satin hood. A single glance convinced Mrs. Graham that it was a lady, a well-bred lady, who stood before her, and very politely she bade her be seated. 

Rather haughtily the proffered chair was declined, while the veil wasthrown aside, disclosing to the astonished gaze of Mrs. Graham theface of 'Lena Rivers, which was unnaturally pale, while her dark eyesgrew darker with the intensity of her feelings. 

"'Lena Rivers! why came you here?" she asked, while at the mention ofthat name Durward started to his feet, but quickly resumed his seat, listening with indescribable emotions to the sound of a voice whichmade every nerve quiver with pain. 

"You ask me why I am here, madam, " said 'Lena. "I came to seek anexplanation from you--to know of what I am accused--to ask why youwrote me that insulting letter--me, an orphan girl, alone andunprotected in the world, and who never knowingly harmed you oryours. "

"Never harmed me or mine!" scornfully repeated Mrs. Graham. "Don'tadd falsehood to your other sins--though, if you'll lie to my son, you of course will to me, his mother. "

"Explain yourself, madam, if you please, " exclaimed 'Lena, her oldentemper beginning to get the advantage of her. 

"And what if I do not please?" sneeringly asked Mrs. Graham. 

"Then I will compel you to do so, for my good name is all I have, andit shall not be wrested from me without an effort on my part topreserve it, " answered 'Lena. 

"Perhaps you expect my husband to stand by you and help you. I amsure it would be very ungentlemanly in him to desert you, now, " saidMrs. Graham, her manner conveying far more meaning than her words. 

'Lena trembled from head to foot, and her voice was hardly distinctas she replied, "Will you explain yourself, or will you not? Whathave I done, that you should treat me thus?"

"Done? Done enough, I should think! Haven't you whiled him awayfrom me with your artful manners? Has he ever been the same mansince he saw you? Hasn't he talked of you in his sleep? made youmost valuable presents which a true woman would have refused? and inreturn, haven't you bestowed upon him your daguerreotype, togetherwith a lock of your hair, on which you no doubt pride yourself, butwhich to me and my son seem like so many coiling serpents?"

'Lena had sat down. She could stand no longer, and burying her facein her hands, she waited until Mrs. Graham had finished. Then, lifting up her head, she replied in a voice far more husky than theone in which she before had spoken--"You accuse me wrongfully, Mrs. Graham, for as I hope for heaven, I never entertained a feeling foryour husband which I would not have done for my own father, andindeed, he has seemed to me more like a parent than a friend----"

"Because you fancied he might some day be one, I dare say, "interrupted Mrs. Graham. 

'Lena paid no attention to this sarcastic remark, but continued: "Iknow I accepted Vesta, but I never dreamed it was wrong, and if itwas, I will make amends by immediately returning her, for much as Ilove her, I shall never use her again. "

"But the daguerreotype?" interrupted Mrs. Graham, anxious to reachthat point. "What have you to say about the daguerreotype? Perhapsyou will presume to deny that, too. "

Durward had arisen, and now in the doorway watched 'Lena, whose darkbrown eyes flashed fire as she answered, "It is false, madam. Youknow it is false. I never yet have had my picture taken. "

"But he has it in his possession; how do you account for that?"

"Again I repeat, that is false!" said 'Lena, while Mrs. Graham, strengthened by the presence of her son, answered, "I can prove it, miss. "

"I defy you to do so, " said 'Lena, strong in her own innocence. 

"Shall I show it to her, Durward, " asked Mrs. Graham, and 'Lena, turning suddenly round, became for the first time conscious of hispresence. 

With a cry of anguish she stretched her arms imploringly toward him, asking him, in piteous tones, to save her from his mother. Durwardwould almost have laid down his life to prove her innocent, but hefelt that could not be. So he made her no reply, and in his eye sheread that he, too, was deceived. With a low, wailing moan she againcovered her face with her hands, while Mrs. Graham repeated herquestion, "Shall I show it to her?"

Durward was not aware that she had it in her possession, and heanswered, "Why do you ask, when you know you cannot do so?"

Oh, how joyfully 'Lena started up; he did not believe it, after all, and if ever a look was expressive of gratitude, that was which shegave to Durward, who returned her no answering glance, save one ofpity; and again that wailing cry smote painfully on his ear. Takingthe case from her pocket, Mrs. Graham advanced toward 'Lena, saying, "Here, see for yourself, and then deny it if you can. "

But 'Lena had no power to take it. Her faculties seemed benumbed andDurward, who, with folded arms and clouded brow stood leaning againstthe mantel, construed her hesitation into guilt, which dreaded to beconvicted. 

"Why don't you take it?" persisted Mrs. Graham. "You defied me toprove it, and here it is. I found it in my husband's private drawer, together with one of those long curls, which last I burned out of mysight. "

Durward shuddered, while 'Lena involuntarily thought of the mass ofwavy tresses which they had told her clustered around her mother'sface, as she lay in her narrow coffin. Why thought she of her motherthen? Was it because they were so strangely alike, that any allusionto her own personal appearance always reminded her of her lostparent? Perhaps so. But to return to our story 'Lena would havesworn that the likeness was not hers, and still an undefined dreadcrept over her, preventing her from moving. 

"You seem so unwilling to be convinced, allow me to assist you, " saidMrs. Graham, at the same time unclasping the case and holding to viewthe picture, on which with wondering eyes, 'Lena gazed inastonishment. 

"It is I--it is; but oh, heaven, how came he by it?" she gasped, andthe next moment she fell fainting at Durward's feet. 

In an instant he was bending over her, his mother exclaiming, "Pray, don't touch her--she does it for effect. "

But he knew better. He knew there was no feigning the corpse-likepallor of that face, and pushing his mother aside, he took theunconscious girl in his arms, and bearing her to the sofa, laid hergently upon it, removing her hand and smoothing back from her coldbrow the thick, clustering curls which his mother had designated as"coiling serpents. "

"Do not ring and expose her to the idle gaze of servants, " said he, to his mother, who had seized the bell-rope. "Bring some water fromyour bedroom, and we will take charge of her ourselves. "

There was something commanding in the tones of his voice, and Mrs. Graham, now really alarmed at the deathly appearance of 'Lena, hastened to obey. When he was alone, Durward bent down, imprintingupon the white lips a burning kiss--the first he had ever given her. In his heart he believed her unworthy of his love, and yet she hadnever seemed one-half so dear to him as at that moment, when she laythere before him helpless as an infant, and all unmindful of thecaresses which he lavished upon her. "If it were indeed death;" hethought, "and it had come upon her while yet she was innocent, Icould have borne it, but now I would I had never seen her;" and thetears which fell like rain upon her cheek, were not unworthy of thestrong man who shed them. The cold water with which they profuselybathed her face and neck, restored her, and then Durward, who couldbear the scene no longer, glided silently into the next room. 

When he was gone, Mrs. Graham, who seemed bent upon tormenting 'Lena, asked "what she thought about it now?"

"Please don't speak to me again, for I am very, very wretched, " said'Lena softly, while Mrs. Graham continued: "Have you nothing to offerin explanation?"

"Nothing, nothing--it is a dark mystery to me, and I wish that I wasdead, " answered 'Lena, sobbing passionately. 

"Better wish to live and repent, " said Mrs. Graham, beginning to readher a long sermon on her duty, to which 'Lena paid no attention, andthe moment she felt that she could walk, she arose to go. 

The moon was shining brightly, and as Mr. Douglass lived not faraway, Mrs. Graham did not deem an escort necessary. But Durwardthought differently. He could not walk with her side by side, as hehad often done before, but he would follow at a distance, to see thatno harm came near her. There was no danger of his being discovered, for 'Lena was too much absorbed in her own wretchedness to heed aughtabout her, and in silence he walked behind her until he saw the doorof Mr. Douglass's house close upon her. Then feeling that there wasan inseparable barrier between them, he returned to his hotel, wherehe found his mother exulting over the downfall of one whom, for somereason, she had always disliked. 

"Didn't she look confounded, though, when I showed her the picture?"said she; to which Durward replied, by asking "when and why she sentthe letter. "

"I did it because I was a mind to, and I am not sorry for it, either, " was Mrs. Graham's crusty answer, whereupon the conversationwas dropped, and as if by a tacit agreement, the subject was notagain resumed during their stay in Louisville. 

 * * * * * *

It would be impossible to describe 'Lena's emotion as she returned tothe house. Twice in the hall was she obliged to grasp at thebanister to keep from falling, and knowing that such excessiveagitation would be remarked, she seated herself upon the stairs untilshe felt composed enough to enter the parlor. Fortunately, Mabel wasalone, and so absorbed in the fortunes of "Uncle True and littleGerty, " as scarcely to notice 'Lena at all. Once, indeed, as she satbefore the grate so motionless and still, Mabel looked up, andobserving how white she was, asked what was the matter. 

"A bad headache, " answered 'Lena, at the same time announcing herintention of retiring. 

"Alone in her room, her feelings gave way, and none save those wholike her have suffered, can conceive of her anguish, as prostrateupon the floor she lay, her long silken curls falling about her whiteface, which looked ghastly and haggard by the moonlight that fellsoftly about her, as if to soothe her woe. 

"What is it, " she cried aloud--"this dark mystery, which I cannotexplain. "

The next moment she thought of Mr. Graham. He could explain it--hemust explain it. She would go to him the next day, asking him whatit meant. She felt sure that he could make it plain, for suspiciousas matters looked, she exculpated him from any wrong intention towardher. Still she could not sleep, and when the gray morning lightcrept in, it found her too much exhausted to rise. 

For several days she kept her room, carefully attended by Mabel andher grandmother, who, at the first intimation of her illness, hastened down to nurse her. Every day did 'Lena ask of Mr. Douglassif Mr. Graham had been in the city, saying that the first time hecame she wished to see him. Days, however, went by, and nothing wasseen or heard from him, until at last John Jr. ; who visited herdaily, casually informed her that Mr. Graham had been unexpectedlycalled away to South Carolina. A distant relative of his had died, bequeathing him a large property, which made it necessary for him togo there immediately; so without waiting for the return of his wife, he had started off, leaving Woodlawn alone. 

"Gone to South Carolina!" exclaimed 'Lena. "When will he return?"

"Nobody knows. He's away from home more than half the time, just asI should be if Mrs. Graham were my wife, " answered John Jr. , at thesame time playfully remarking that 'Lena need not look so blank, asit was not Durward who had gone so far. 

For an instant 'Lena resolved to tell him everything and ask him whatto do, but knowing how impetuous he was when at all excited, shefinally decided to keep her own secret, determining, however, towrite to Mr. Graham, as soon as she was able. Just before John Jr. Left her, she called him to her side, asking him if he would do herthe favor of seeing that Vesta was sent back to Woodlawn, as she didnot wish for her any longer. 

"What the plague is that for--has mother been raising a row?" askedJohn Jr. , and 'Lena replied, "No, no, your mother has nothing to dowith it. I only want Vesta taken home. I cannot at present tell youwhy, but I have a good reason, and some time, perhaps, I'll explain. You'll do it, won't you?"

With the determination of questioning Durward as to what hadhappened, John Jr. Promised, and when Mrs. Graham and her sonreturned from Louisville, they found Vesta safely stabled with theirother horses, while the saddle with its tiny slipper hung upon abeam, and seemingly looked down with reproach upon Durward, whoturned away with a bitter pang as he thought of the morning when hefirst took it to Maple Grove. 

The next day was dark and rainy, precluding all outdoor exercise, andweary, sad, and spiritless, Durward repaired to the library, where, for an hour or more, he sat musing dreamily of the past--of themorning, years ago, when first he met the little girl who had sincegrown so strongly into his love, and over whom so dark a shadow hadfallen. A heavy knock at the door, and in a moment John Jr. Appeared, with dripping garments and a slightly scowling face. Therewas a faint resemblance between him and 'Lena, manifest in the soft, curling hair and dark, lustrous eyes. Durward had observed itbefore--he thought of it now--and glad to see any one who bore theleast resemblance to her, he started up, exclaiming, "Why, Livingstone, the very one of all the world I am glad to see. "

John made no reply, but shaking the rain-drops from his overcoat, which he carelessly threw upon the floor, he took a chair oppositethe grate, and looking Durward fully in the face, said, "I've comeover, Bellmont, to ask you a few plain, unvarnished questions, whichI believe you will answer truthfully. Am I right?"

"Certainly, sir--go on, " was Durward's reply. 

"Well, then, to begin, are you and 'Lena engaged?"

"No, sir. "

"Have you been engaged?"

"No, sir. "

"Do you ever expect to be engaged?"

"No, sir. "

"Have you quarreled?"

"No, sir. "

"Do you know why she wished to have Vesta sent home?"

"I suppose I do. "

"Will you tell me?"

"No, sir, " said Durward, determined, for 'Lena's sake, that no oneshould wring from him the secret. 

John Jr. Arose, jammed both hands into his pockets--walked to thewindow--made faces at the weather--walked back to the grate--madefaces at that--kicked it--and then turning to Durward, said, "There'sthe old Nick to pay, somewhere. "

Nothing from Durward, who only felt bound to answer direct questions. 

"I tell you, there's the old Nick to pay, somewhere, " continued John, raising his voice. "I knew it all the while 'Lena was sick. I readit in her face when I told her Mr. Graham had gone south----"

A faint sickness gathered around Durward's heart, and John Jr. Proceeded: "She wouldn't tell me, and I've come to you forinformation. Will you give it to me?"

"No, sir, " said Durward. "The nature of our trouble is known only toourselves and one other individual, and I shall never divulge thesecret. "

"Is that other individual my mother?"

"No, sir. "

"Is it Cad?"

"No, sir. "

"Had they any agency in the matter?"

"None, whatever, that I know of. "

"Then I'm on the wrong track, and may as well go home, " said JohnJr. , starting for the door, where he stopped, while he added, "If, Bellmont, I ever do hear of your having misled me in this matter----"He did not finish the sentence in words, but playfully producing arevolver, he departed. The next moment he was dashing across thelawn, the mud flying in every direction, and himself thinking howuseless it was to try to unravel a love quarrel. 

In the meantime, 'Lena waited impatiently for an answer to the letterwhich she had sent to Mr. Graham, but day after day glided by, andstill no tidings came. At last, as if everything had conspiredagainst her, she heard that he was lying dangerously ill of a feverat Havana, whither he had gone in quest of an individual whosepresence was necessary in the settlement of the estate. 

The letter which brought this intelligence to Mrs. Graham, alsocontained a request that she would come to him immediately, andwithin a few days after its receipt, she started for Cuba, togetherwith Durward, who went without again seeing 'Lena. 

They found him better than they expected. The danger was past, buthe was still too weak to move himself, and the physician said itwould be many weeks ere he was able to travel. This rather pleasedMrs. Graham than otherwise. She was fond of change, and had oftendesired to visit Havana, so now that she was there, she made the bestof it, and for once in her life enacted the part of a faithful, affectionate wife. 

Often, during intervals of mental aberration, Mr. Graham spoke of"Helena, " imploring her forgiveness for his leaving her so long, andpromising to return. Sometimes he spoke of her as being dead, and inpiteous accents he would ask of Durward to bring him back his"beautiful 'Lena, " who was sleeping far away among the New Englandmountains. 

One day when the servant, as usual, came in with their letters, hebrought one directed to Mr. Graham, which had been forwarded fromCharleston, and which bore the post-marks of several places, ithaving been sent hither and thither, ere it reached its place ofdestination. It was mailed at Frankfort, Kentucky, and in thesuperscription Durward readily recognized the handwriting of 'Lena. 

"Worse and worse, " thought he, now fully assured of her worthlessness. 

For a moment he felt tempted to break the seal, but from this act heinstinctively shrank, thinking that whatever it might contain, it wasnot for him to read it. But what should he do with it? Must he giveit to his mother who already had as much as she could bear? No, 'twas not best for her to know aught about it, and as the surestmeans of preventing its doing further trouble, he destroyedit--burned it to ashes--repenting the next moment of the deed, wishing he had read it, and feeling not that he had wronged the dead, as his mother did when she burned the chestnut curl, but as if he haddone a wrong to 'Lena. 

In the course of two months he went back to Woodlawn, leaving hisfather and mother to travel leisurely from place to place, as thestill feeble state of the former would admit. 'Lena, who hadreturned from Frankfort, trembled lest he should come to Maple Grove, but he seemed equally desirous of avoiding a meeting, and afterlingering about Woodlawn for several days, he suddenly departed forLouisville, where, for a time, we leave him, while we follow thefortunes of others connected with our story. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

JOHN JR. AND MABEL. 

Time and absence had gradually softened John Jr. 's feelings towardNellie. She was not married to Mr. Wilbur--possibly she never wouldbe--and if on her return to America he found her the same, he wouldlose no time in seeing her, and, if possible, secure her to himself. Such was the tenor of his thoughts, as on one bright morning in Junehe took his way to Lexington, whither he was going on business forhis father. Before leaving the city, he rode down to the depot, aswas his usual custom, reaching there just as the cars bound forFrankfort were rolling away. Upon the platform of the rear car stoodan acquaintance of his, who called out, "Halloo, Livingstone, haveyou heard the news?"

"News, no. What news?" asked John Jr. , following after the fastmoving train. 

"Bob Wilbur and Nellie Douglass are married, " screamed the young man, who, having really heard of Mr. Wilbur's marriage, supposed it mustof course be with Nellie. 

John Jr. Had no doubt of it, and for a moment his heart faintedbeneath the sudden blow. But he was not one to yield long todespair, and soon recovering from the first shock, he raved inuncontrollable fury, denouncing Nellie as worthless, fickle, and goodfor nothing, mentally wishing her much joy with her husband, who inthe same breath he hoped "would break his confounded neck, " andending his tirade by solemnly vowing to offer himself to the firstgirl he met, whether black or white!

Full of this resolution he put spurs to Firelock and sped away overthe turnpike, looking neither to the right nor the left, lest achance should offer for the fulfillment of his vow. It was the duskof evening when he reached home, and giving his horse into the careof a servant, he walked with rapid strides into the parlor, startingback as he saw _Mabel Ross_, who, for a few days past, had beenvisiting at Maple Grove. 

"There's no backing out, " thought he. "It's my destiny, and I'llmeet it like a man. Nellie spited me, and I'll let her know how goodit feels. "

"Mabel, " said he, advancing toward her, "will you marry me? Say yesor no quick. "

This was not quite the kind of wooing which Mabel had expected. 'Twas not what she read of in novels, but then it was in keeping withthe rest of John Jr. 's conduct, and very frankly and naturally sheanswered "Yes. "

"Very well, " said he, beginning to feel better already, and turningto leave the room--"Very well, you fix the day, and arrange it allyourself, only let it be very soon, for now I've made up my mind, I'min a mighty hurry. "

Mabel laughed, and hardly knowing whether he were in earnest or not, asked "if she should speak to the minister, too. "

"Yes, no, " said he. "Just tell mother, and she'll fix it all right. Will you?"

And he walked away, feeling nothing, thinking nothing, except that hewas engaged. Engaged! The very idea seemed to add new dignity to_him_, while it invested Mabel with a charm she had not hithertopossessed. John Jr. Liked everything that belonged to himexclusively, and Mabel now was his--his wife she would be--and whennext he met her in the drawing-room, his manner toward her wasunusually kind, attracting the attention of his mother, who wonderedat the change. One after another the family retired, until there wasno one left in the parlor except Mabel and Mrs. Livingstone, who, asher husband chanced to be absent, had invited her young visitor toshare her room. When they were alone, Mabel, with many blushes and afew tears, told of all that had occurred, except, indeed, of John'smanner of proposing, which she thought best not to confide to a thirdperson. 

Eagerly Mrs. Livingstone listened, mentally congratulating herselfupon the completion of her plan without her further interference, wondering the while how it had been so suddenly brought about, andhalf trembling lest it should prove a failure after all. So whenMabel spoke of John Jr. 's wish that the marriage should beconsummated immediately, she replied, "Certainly--by all means. There is no necessity for delay. You can marry at once, and getready afterwards. It is now the last of June. I had thought ofgoing to Saratoga in July, and a bride is just the thing to giveeclat to our party. "

"But, " answered Mabel, who hardly fancied a wedding without all theusual preparations, which she felt she should enjoy so much, "Icannot think of being married until October, when Nellie perhaps willbe here. "

Nellie's return was what Mrs. Livingstone dreaded, and veryingeniously she set herself at work to put aside Mabel's objections, succeeding so far that the young girl promised compliance withwhatever she should think proper. The next morning, as John Jr. Waspassing through the hall, she called him into her room, delicatelybroaching the subject of his engagement, saying she knew he could nothelp loving a girl possessed of so many excellent qualities as MabelRoss. Very patiently John Jr. Heard her until she came to speak oflove. Then, in much louder tones than newly engaged men are apt tospeak of their betrothed, he exclaimed, "Love! Fudge! If you thinkI'm marrying Mabel for love, you are greatly mistaken, I like her, but love is out of the question. "

"Pray what are you marrying her for? Her property?"

"Property!" repeated John, with a sneer, "I've seen the effect ofmarrying for property, and I trust I'm not despicable enough to tryit for myself. No, madam, I'm not marrying her for money--but tospite Nellie Douglass, if you must know the reason. I've loved heras I shall never again love womankind, but she cheated me. She'smarried to Robert Wilbur, and now I've too much spirit to have herthink _I_ care. If she can marry, so can I--she isn't the only girlin the world--and when I heard what she had done, I vowed I'd offermyself to the first female I saw. As good or bad luck would have it, 'twas Mabel, who you know said yes, of course, for I verily believeshe likes me far better than I deserve. What kind of a husband Ishall make, the Lord only knows, but I'm in for it. My word ispassed, and the sooner you get us tied together the better, but forheaven's sake, don't go to making a great parade. Mabel has noparticular home. She's here now, and why not let the ceremony takeplace here. But fix it to suit yourselves, only don't let me hearyou talking about it, for fear I'll get sick of the whole thing. "

This was exactly what Mrs. Livingstone desired. She had the daybefore been to Frankfort herself, learning from Mrs. Atkins of Mr. Wilbur's marriage with the English girl. She knew her son wasdeceived, and it was highly necessary that he should continue so. She felt sure that neither her daughters, Mabel, nor 'Lena knew ofMr. Wilbur's marriage, and she resolved they should not. It wassummer, and as many of their city friends had left Frankfort forplaces of fashionable resort, they received but few calls; and bykeeping them at home until the wedding was over, she trusted that allwould be safe in that quarter. Durward, too, was fortunately absent, so she only had to deal with Mabel and John Jr. The first of theseshe approached very carefully, casually telling her of Mr. Wilbur'smarriage, and then hastily adding, "But pray don't speak of it to anyone, as there are special reasons why it should not at present bediscussed. Sometime I may tell you the reason. "

Mabel wondered why so small a matter should be a secret, but Mrs. Livingstone had requested her to keep silence and that was asufficient reason why she should do so. The next step was to win herconsent for the ceremony to take place there, and in the course ofthree weeks, saying that it was her son's wish. But on this pointshe found more difficulty than she had anticipated, for Mabel shrankfrom being married at the house of his father. 

"It didn't look right, " said she, "and she knew Mr. Douglass wouldnot object to having it there. "

Mrs. Livingstone knew so, too, but there was too much danger in suchan arrangement, and she replied, "Of course not, if you request it, but will it be quite proper for you to ask him to be at all thattrouble when Nellie is gone, and there is no one at home tosuperintend?"

So after a time Mabel was convinced, thinking, though, howdifferently everything was turning out from what she expected. Threeweeks from that night was fixed upon for the bridal, to which but fewwere to be invited, for Mrs. Livingstone did not wish to call forthremark. 

"Everything should be done quietly and in order, " she said, "andthen, when autumn came, she would give a splendid party in honor ofthe bride. "

Mr. Douglass, when told of the coming event by Mrs. Livingstone, whowould trust no one else, expressed much surprise, saying he greatlypreferred that the ceremony should take place at his own house. 

"Of course, " returned the oily-tongued woman, "of course you had, buteven a small wedding party is a vast amount of trouble, and inNellie's absence you would be disturbed. Were she here I would notsay a word, but now I insist upon having it my own way, and indeed, Ithink my claim upon Mabel is the strongest. "

Silenced, but not quite convinced, Mr. Douglass said no more, thinking, meanwhile, that if he only _could_ afford it, Mabel shouldhave a wedding worthy of her. But he could not; he was poor, andhence Mrs. Livingstone's arguments prevailed the more easily. Fortunately for her, John Jr. Manifested no inclination to go out atall. A kind of torpor seemed to have settled upon him, and day afterday he remained at home, sometimes in a deep study in his own room, and sometimes sitting in the parlor, where his very unlover-likedeportment frequently brought tears to Mabel's eyes, while Carrieloudly denounced him as the most clownish fellow she ever saw. 

"I hope you'll train him, Mabel, " said she, "for he needs it. Heought to have had Nellie Douglass. She's a match for him. Whydidn't you have her, John?"

With a face dark as night, he angrily requested Carrie "to mind herown business, " saying "he was fully competent to take charge ofhimself, without the interference of either wife or sister. "

"Oh, what if he should look and talk so to me!" thought Mabel, shuddering as a dim foreboding of her sad future came over her. 

'Lena who understood John Jr. Better than any one else, saw that allwas not right. She knew how much he had loved Nellie; she believedhe loved her still; and why should he marry another? She could nottell, and as he withheld his confidence from her, appearing unusuallymoody and cross, she dared not approach him. At last, having an ideaof what she wanted, and willing to give her a chance, he one day, when they were alone, abruptly asked her what she thought of hischoice. 

"If you ask me what I think of Mabel, " said she, "I answer that Iesteem her very highly, and the more I know her the better I loveher. Still, I never thought she would be your wife. "

"Ah--indeed!--never thought she would, hey?" answered John, beginningto grow crusty, and elevating his feet to the top of the mantel. "You see now what _thought_ did; but what is your objection to her?"

"Nothing, nothing, " returned 'Lena. "Mabel is amiable, gentle, andconfiding, and will try to be a good wife. "

"What the deuce are you grumbling for, then?" interrupted John Jr. "Do you want me yourself? If you do, just say the word, and it shallbe done! I'm bound to be married, and I'd sooner have you thananybody else. Come, what do you say?"

'Lena smiled, while she disclaimed any intention toward her cousin, who, resuming the position which in his excitement he had slightlychanged, continued: "I have always dealt fairly with you, 'Lena, andnow I tell you truly, I have no particular love for Mabel, although Iintend making her my wife, and heartily wish she was so now. "

'Lena started, and clasping John's arm, exclaimed, "Marry Mabel andnot love her! You cannot be in earnest. You will not do her sogreat a wrong--you shall not. "

"I don't know how you'll help it, unless you meddle with what doesnot concern you, " said John. "I am doing her no wrong, I never toldher I loved her--never acted as though I did, and if she is contentto have me on such terms, it's nobody's business. She loves me halfto death, and if the old adage be true that love begets love, I shalllearn to love her, and when I do I'll let you know. "

So saying, the young man shook down his pants, which had becomedisarranged, and walked away, leaving 'Lena to wonder what course shehad better pursue. Once she resolved on telling Mabel all that hadpassed between them, but the next moment convinced her that, as hehad said, she would be meddling, so she decided to say nothing, silently hoping that affairs would turn out better than she feared. 

It was Mabel's wish that 'Lena and Anna should be her bridesmaids, Durward and Malcolm officiating as groomsmen, and as Mr. Bellmont wasaway, she wrote to him requesting his attendance, but saying she hadnot yet mentioned the subject to 'Lena. Painful as was the task ofbeing thus associated with 'Lena, Durward felt that to refuse mightoccasion much remark, so he wrote to Mabel that "he would comply withher request, provided Miss Rivers were willing. "

"Of course she's willing, " said Mabel to herself, at the same timerunning with the letter to 'Lena, who, to her utter astonishment, notonly refused outright, but also declined giving any particular reasonfor her doing so. "Carrie will suit him much better than I, " saidshe, but unfortunately, Carrie, who chanced to be present, halfhidden in the recess of a window, indignantly declined "goingJack-at-a-pinch" with any one, so Mabel was obliged to contentherself with Anna and Mr. Everett. 

But here a new difficulty arose, for Mrs. Livingstone declared thatthe latter should not be invited, and Anna, in a fit of anger, insisted that if _he_ were not good enough to be present, neither wasshe, and she should accordingly remain in her own room. Poor Mabelburst into tears, and when, a few moments afterward, John Jr. Appeared, asking what ailed her, she hid her face in his bosom andsobbed like a child. Then, frightened at her own temerity, for hegave her no answering caress, she lifted up her head, while with aquizzical expression John Jr. Said, "So-ho, Meb, seems to me you'vetaken to crying on my jacket a little in advance. But what's thematter?"

In a few words Mabel told him how everything went wrong, how neither'Lena, Carrie, nor Anna would be her bridesmaids, and how Annawouldn't see her married because Malcolm was not invited. 

"I can manage that, " said John Jr. "Mr. Everett _shall_ be invited, so just shut up crying, for if there's anything I detest, it's awoman's sniveling;" and he walked off thinking he had begun just ashe meant to hold out. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE BRIDAL. 

'Twas Mabel's wedding night, and in one of the upper rooms of Mr. Livingstone's house she stood awaiting the summons to the parlor. They had arrayed her for the bridal; Mrs. Livingstone, Carrie, 'Lena, Anna, and the seamstress, all had had something to do with hertoilet, and now they had left her for a time with him who was so soonto be her husband. She knew--for they had told her--she was lookinguncommonly well. Her dress, of pure white satin, was singularlybecoming; pearls were interwoven in the heavy braids of her ravenhair; the fleecy folds of the rich veil, which fell like a cloudaround her, swept the floor. In her eye there was an unusual sparkleand on her cheek an unwonted bloom. 

Still Mabel was not happy. There was a heavy pain at her heart--aforeboding of coming evil--and many an anxious glance she cast towardthe stern, silent man, who, with careless tread, walked up and downthe room, utterly regardless of her presence, and apparently absorbedin bitter reflections. Once only had she ventured to speak, andthen, in childlike simplicity, she had asked him "how she looked. "

"Well enough, " was his answer, as, without raising his eyes, hecontinued his walk. 

The tears gathered in Mabel's eyes--she could not help it; drop afterdrop they came, falling upon the marble table, until John Jr. , whosaw more than he pretended, came to her side, asking "why she wept. "

Mabel was beginning to be terribly afraid of him, and for a momentshe hesitated, but at length, summoning all her courage, she woundher arms about his neck, and in low, earnest tones said, "Tell metruly, do you wish to marry me?"

"And suppose I do not?" he asked, with the same stony composure. 

Stepping backward, Mabel stood proudly erect before him, andanswered, "Then would I die rather than wed you!"

There was something in her appearance and attitude peculiarlyattractive to John Jr. Never in his life had he felt so muchinterested in her, and drawing her toward him and placing his armaround her, he said, gently, "Be calm, little Meb, you are nervousto-night. Of course I wish you to be my wife, else I had not askedyou. Are you satisfied?"

The joyous glance of the dark eyes lifted so confidingly to his, wasa sufficient answer, and as if conscious of the injustice he wasabout to do her, John Jr. Bent for an instant over her slight figure, mentally resolving, that so far as in him lay he would be true to histrust. There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Livingstone herselflooked in, pale, anxious, and expectant. Mr. Douglass, who was amongthe invited guests, had arrived, and _must_ have an interview withJohn Jr. Ere the ceremony. 'Twas in vain she attempted politely towaive his request. He _would_ see him, and distracted with fear, shehad at last conducted him into the upper hall, and out upon an openveranda, where in the moonlight he awaited the coming of thebridegroom, who, with some curiosity, approached him, asking what hewanted. 

"It may seem strange to you, " said Mr. Douglass, "that I insist uponseeing you now, when another time might do as well, but I believe inhaving a fair understanding all round. "

"Meddling old rascal!" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, who, of course, was within hearing, bending her ears so as not to lose a word. 

But in this she was thwarted, for drawing nearer to John Jr. , Mr. Douglass said, so low as to prevent her catching anything further, save the sound of his voice:

"I do not accuse you of being at all mercenary, but such things havebeen, and there has something come to my knowledge to-day, which Ideem it my duty to tell you, so that hereafter you can neither blameme nor Mabel. "

"What is it?" asked John Jr. , and Mr. Douglass replied, "To be brief, then, Mabel's large fortune is, with the exception of a fewthousands, of which I have charge, all swept away by the recentfailure of the Planters' Bank, in which it was invested. I heard ofit this morning, and determined on telling you, knowing that if youloved her for herself, it would make no difference, while if youloved her for her money, it were far better to stop here. "

Nothing could have been further from John's thoughts than a desirefor Mabel's wealth, which, precious as it seemed in his mother'seyes, was valueless to him, and after a moment's silence, in which hewas thinking what a rich disappointment it would be to his mother, who, he knew, prized Mabel only for her money, he exclaimed, "Good, I'm glad of it. I never sought Mabel's hand for what there was init, and I'm more ready to marry her now than ever. But, " he added, as a sudden impulse of good came over him, "She need not know it; itwould trouble her uselessly, and for the present we'll keep it fromher. "

John Jr. Had always been a puzzle to Mr. Douglass, who by turnscensured and admired him, but now there was but one feeling in hisbosom toward him, and that was one of unbounded respect. With a warmpressure of the hand he turned away, thinking, perchance, of his fairyoung daughter, who, far away o'er the Atlantic waves, little dreamedof the scene on which that summer moon was shining. As theconference ended; Mrs. Livingstone, who had learned nothing, glided, from her hiding-place, eagerly scanning her son's face to see ifthere was aught to justify her fears. But there was nothing, andwith her heart beating at its accustomed pace, she descended thestairs in time to meet Durward, who, having reached Woodlawn thatday, had not heard of 'Lena's decision. 

"This way, Marster Bellmont--upstars is the gentleman's room, " saidthe servant in attendance, and ascending the stairs, Durward met withAnna, asking her for her cousin. 

"In there--go in, " said Anna, pointing to a half-open door, and thenhurrying away to meet Malcolm, whose coming she had seen from thewindow. 

Hesitatingly, Durward approached the chamber indicated, and as hisknock met with no response, he ventured at last to enter unannouncedinto the presence of 'Lena, whom he had not met since thatwell-remembered night. Tastefully attired for the wedding in asimple white muslin, she sat upon a little stool with her face buriedin the cushions of the sofa. She had heard his voice in the lowerhall, and knowing she must soon meet him, she had for a momentabandoned herself to the tumult of bitter thoughts, which camesweeping over her in that trying hour. She was weeping--he knew thatby the trembling of her body--and for an instant everything wasforgotten. 

Advancing softly toward her, he was about to lay his hand upon thoseclustering curls which fell unheeded around her, when the thoughtthat from among them had been cut the hated tress which his motherhad cast into the flames, arrested his hand, and he was himselfagain. Forcing down his emotion, he said, calmly, "Miss Rivers, " andstarting quickly to her feet, 'Lena demanded proudly what he wouldhave, and why he was there. 

"Pardon me, " said he, as he marked her haughty bearing and glanced ather dress, which was hardly in accordance with that of a bridesmaid;"I supposed I was to be groomsman--am I mistaken?"

"So far as I am concerned you are, sir. I knew nothing of Mabel'swriting to you, or I should have prevented it, for after what hasoccurred, you cannot deem me weak enough to lend myself to such anarrangement. "

And 'Lena walked out of the room, while Durward looked after her inamazement, one moment admiring her spirit, and the next blaming Mabelfor not informing him how matters stood. "But there's no help for itnow, " thought he, as he descended the stairs and made his way intothe parlor, whither 'Lena had preceded him. 

And thus ended an interview of which 'Lena had thought so much, hoping and praying that it might result in a reconciliation. But itwas all over now--the breach was wider than ever--with half-benumbedfaculties she leaned on the window, unconscious of the earnest desirehe felt to approach her, for there was about her a strangefascination which it required all his power to resist. 

When at last all was in readiness, a messenger was dispatched to JohnJr. , who, without a word, offered his arm to Mabel, and descendingthe broad staircase, they stood within the parlor in the spot whichhad been assigned them. Once during the ceremony he raised his eyes, encountering those of 'Lena, fixed upon him so reproachfully thatwith a scowl he turned away. Mechanically he went through with hispart of the service, betraying no emotion whatever, until the solemnwords which made them one were uttered. Then, when it was over--whenhe was bound to her forever--he seemed suddenly to awake from hisapathy and think of what he had done. Crowding around him, they camewith words of congratulation--all but 'Lena, who tarried behind, forshe had none to give. Wretched as she was herself, she pitied thefrail young bride, whose half-joyous, half-timid glances toward thefrigid bridegroom, showed that already was she sipping from thebitter cup whose very dregs she was destined to drain. 

In the recess of a window near to John Jr. , Mr. Douglass and Durwardstood, speaking together of Nellie, and though John shrank from thesound of her name, his hearing faculties seemed unusually sharpened, and he lost not a word of what they were saying. 

"So Nellie is coming home in the autumn, I am told, " said Durward, "and I am glad of it, for I miss her much. But what is it about Mr. Wilbur's marriage. Wasn't it rather unexpected?"

"No, not very. Nellie knew before she went that he was engaged toMiss Allen, but at his sister's request she kept it still. He foundher at a boarding-school in Montreal, several years ago. "

"Will they remain in Europe?"

"For a time, at least, until Mary is better--but Nellie comes homewith some friends from New Haven, whom she met in Paris;" then in alow tone Mr. Douglass added, "I almost dread the effect of thismarriage upon her, for I am positive she liked him better than anyoneelse. "

The little white, blue-veined hand which rested on that of John Jr. , was suddenly pressed so spasmodically, that Mabel looked upinquiringly in the face which had no thought for her, for Mr. Douglass's words had fallen upon him like a thunderbolt, crushing himto the earth, and for a moment rendering him powerless. Instantly hecomprehended it all. He had deceived himself, and by his impetuoushaste lost all that he held most dear on earth. There was a cry offaintness, a grasping at empty space to keep from falling, and thenforth into the open air they led the half-fainting man, followed byhis frightened bride, who tenderly bathed his damp, cold brow, unmindful how he shrank from her, shuddering as he felt the touch ofher soft hand, and motioning her aside when she stooped to part fromhis forehead the heavy locks of his hair. 

That night, the pale starlight of another hemisphere kept watch overa gentle girl, who 'neath the blue skies of sunny France, dreamed ofher distant home across the ocean wave; of the gray-haired man, who, with every morning light and evening shade, blessed her as his child;of another, whose image was ever present with her, whom from herchildhood she had loved, and whom neither time nor distance couldefface from her memory. 

Later, and the silvery moon looked mournfully down upon the white, haggard face and heavy bloodshot eye of him who counted each long, dreary hour as it passed by, cursing the fate which had made him whathe was, and unjustly hardening his heart against his innocentunsuspecting wife. 

CHAPTER XXVI

MARRIED LIFE. 

For a short time after their marriage, John Jr. Treated Mabel with atleast a show of attention, but he was not one to act long as he didnot feel. Had Nellie been, indeed, the wife of another, he might intime have learned to love Mabel as she deserved, but now her presenceonly served to remind him of what he had lost, and at last he beganto shun her society, never seeming willing to be left with her alone, and either repulsing or treating with indifference the many littleacts of kindness which her affectionate nature prompted. To all thisMabel was not blind, and when once she began to suspect her trueposition, it was easy for her to fancy slights where none wereintended. 

Thus, ere she had been two months a wife, her life was one ofconstant unhappiness, and, as a matter of course, her health, whichhad been much improved, began to fail. Her old racking headachesreturned with renewed force, confining her for whole days to herroom, where she lay listening in vain for the footsteps which nevercame, and tended only by 'Lena, who in proportion as the othersneglected her, clung to her more and more. The trip to Saratoga wasgiven up, John Jr. In the bitterness of his disappointment bitterlyrefusing to go, and saying there was nothing sillier than for anewly-married couple to go riding around the country, disgustingsensible people with their fooleries. So with a burst of tears Mabelyielded and her bridal tour extended no further than Frankfort, whither her husband _did_ once accompany her, dining out even thenwith an old schoolmate whom he chanced to meet, and almost forgettingto call at Mr. Douglass's for Mabel when it was time to return home. 

Erelong, too, another source of trouble arose, which shipwreckedentirely the poor bride's happiness. By some means or other it atlast came to Mrs. Livingstone's knowledge that Mabel's fortune wasnot only all gone, but that her son had known it in time to preventhis marrying her. Owing to various losses her own property had for afew years past been gradually diminishing, and when she found thatMabel's fortune, which she leaned upon as an all-powerful prop, wasswept away, it was more than she could bear peaceably; and in a fitof disappointed rage she assailed her son, reproaching him withbringing disgrace upon the family by marrying a poor, homely, sicklygirl, who would be forever incurring expense without any means ofpaying it! For once, however, she found her match, for in good roundterms John Jr. Bade her "go to thunder, " his favorite point ofdestination for his particular friends, at the same time saying, "hedidn't care a dime for Mabel's money. It was you, " said he, "whokept your eye on that, aiding and abetting the match, and now thatyou are disappointed, I'm heartily glad of it. "

"But who is going to pay for her board, " asked Mrs. Livingstone. "You've no means of earning it, and I hope you don't intend to spongeout of me, for I think I've enough paupers on my hands already!"

"_Board_!" roared John Jr. In a towering passion. "While you thoughther rich, you gave no heed to board or anything else; and since shehas become poor, I do not think her appetite greatly increased. Youtaunt me, too, with having no means of earning my own living. Whosefault is it?--tell me that. Haven't you always opposed my having aprofession? Didn't you _pet_ and _baby_ 'Johnny' when a boy, keepinghim always at your apron strings, and now that he's a man, he's notto be turned adrift. No, madam, I shall stay, and Mabel, too, justas long as I please. "

Gaining no satisfaction from him, Mrs. Livingstone turned her batteryupon poor Mabel, treating her with shameful neglect, intimating thatshe was in the way; that the house was full, and that she neversupposed John was going to settle down at home for her to support; hewas big enough to look after himself, and if he chose to marry a wifewho had nothing, why let them go to work, as other folks did. 

Mabel listened in perfect amazement, never dreaming what was meant, for John Jr. Had carefully kept from her a knowledge of her loss, requesting his mother to do the same in such decided terms, that, hint as strongly as she pleased, she dared not tell the whole, forfear of the storm which was sure to follow. All this was not, ofcourse, calculated to add to Mabel's comfort, and day by day she grewmore and more unhappy, generously keeping to herself, however, thetreatment which she received from Mrs. Livingstone. 

"He will only dislike me the more if I complain to him of hismother, " thought she, so the secret was kept, though she could notalways repress the tears which would start when she thought howwretched she was. 

We believe we have said elsewhere, that if there was anythingparticularly annoying to John Jr. , it was a sick or crying woman, andnow, when he so often found Mabel indisposed or weeping, he grew moremorose and fault-finding, sometimes wantonly accusing her of tryingto provoke him, when, in fact, she had used every means in her powerto conciliate him. Again, conscience-smitten, he would lay heraching head upon his bosom, and tenderly bathing her throbbingtemples, would soothe her into a quiet sleep, from which she alwaysawoke refreshed, and in her heart forgiving him for all he had madeher suffer. At such times, John would resolve never again to treather unkindly, but alas! his resolutions were too easily broken. Hadhe married Nellie, a more faithful, affectionate husband there couldnot have been. But now it was different. A withering blight hadfallen upon his earthly prospects, and forgetting that he alone wasto blame, he unjustly laid the fault upon his innocent wife, who, asfar as she was able, loved him as deeply as Nellie herself could havedone. 

One morning about the first of September, John Jr. Received a note, informing him that several of his young associates were going on athree days' hunting excursion, in which they wished him to join. Inthe large easy-chair, just before him, sat Mabel, her head supportedby pillows and saturated with camphor, while around her eyes were thedark rings which usually accompanied her headaches. InvoluntarilyJohn Jr. Glanced toward her. Had it been Nellie, all the pleasuresof the world could not have induced him to leave her, but Mabel wasaltogether another person, and more for the sake of seeing what shewould say, than from any real intention of going, he read the notealoud; then carelessly throwing it aside, he said, "Ah, yes, I'll go. It'll be rare fun camping out these moonlight nights. "

Much as she feared him, Mabel could not bear to have him out of hersight, and now, at the first intimation of his leaving her, her lipbegan to tremble, while tears filled her eyes and dropped upon hercheeks. This was enough, and mentally styling her "a perfect crybaby, " he resolved to go at all hazards. 

"I don't think you ought to leave Mabel, she feels so badly, " saidAnna, who was present. 

"I want to know if little Anna's got so she can dictate me, too, "answered John, imitating her voice, and adding, that "he reckonedMabel would get over her bad feelings quite as well without him aswith him. "

More for the sake of opposition than because she really cared, Carrie, too, chimed in, saying that "he was a pretty specimen of athree months' husband, " and asking "how he ever expected to answerfor all of Mabel's tears and headaches. "

"Hang her tears and headaches, " said he, beginning to grow angry. "She can get one up to order any time, and for my part, I am gettingheartily tired of the sound of aches and pains. "

"Please _don't_ talk so, " said Mabel, pressing her hands upon heraching head, while 'Lena sternly exclaimed, "Shame on you, JohnLivingstone. I am surprised at you, for I did suppose you had somelittle feeling left. "

"Miss Rivers can be very eloquent when she chooses, but I am happy tosay it is entirely lost on me, " said John, leaving the room andshutting the door with a bang, which made every one of Mabel's nervesquiver anew. 

"What a perfect brute, " said Carrie, while 'Lena and Anna drew nearerto Mabel, the one telling her "she would not care, " and the othersilently pressing the little hand which instinctively sought hers, asif sure of finding sympathy. 

At this moment Mrs. Livingstone came in, and immediately Carrie gavea detailed account of her brother's conduct, at the same timereferring her mother for proof to Mabel's red eyes and swollen face. 

"I never interfere between husband and wife, " said Mrs. Livingstonecoolly, "but as a friend, I will give Mabel a bit of advice. Withoutbeing at all personal, I would say that few women have beauty enoughto afford to impair it by eternally crying, while fewer men havepatience enough to bear with a woman who is forever whining andcomplaining, first of this and then of that. I don't suppose thatJohn is so much worse than other people, and I think he bears upwonderfully, considering his disappointment. "

Here the lady flounced out of the room, leaving the girls to stare ateach other in silence, wondering what she meant. Since her marriage, Mabel had occupied the parlor chamber, which connected with a cozylittle bedroom and dressing-room adjoining. These had at the timebeen fitted up and furnished in a style which Mrs. Livingstonethought worthy of Mabel's wealth, but now that she was poor, the casewas altered, and she had long contemplated removing her to moreinferior quarters. "She wasn't going to give her the very best roomin the house. No, indeed, she wasn't--wearing out the carpets, soiling the furniture, and keeping everything topsy-turvy. "

She understood John Jr. Well enough to know that it would not do toapproach him on the subject, so she waited, determining to carry outher plans the very first time he should be absent, thinking when itwas once done, he would submit quietly. On hearing that he had goneoff on a hunting excursion, she thought, "Now is my time, " andsummoning to her assistance three or four servants, she removedeverything belonging to John Jr. And Mabel, to the small and notremarkably convenient room which the former had occupied previous tohis marriage. 

"What are you about?" asked Anna, who chanced to pass by and lookedin. 

"About my business, " answered Mrs. Livingstone. I'm not going tohave my best things all worn out, and if this was once good enoughfor John to sleep in, it is now. "

"But will Mabel like it?" asked Anna, a little suspicious that hersister-in-law's rights were being infringed. 

"Nobody cares whether she is pleased or not, " said Mrs. Livingstone. "If she don't like it, all she has to do is to go away. "

"Lasted jest about as long as I thought 'twood, " said Aunt Milly, when she heard what was going on. "Ile and crab-apple vinegar won'tmix, nohow, and if before the year's up old miss don't worry the lifeout of that poor little sickly critter, that looks now like a pickedchicken, my name ain't Milly Livingstone. "

The other negroes agreed with her. Constantly associated with thefamily, they saw things as they were, and while Mrs. Livingstone'sconduct was universally condemned, Mabel was a general favorite. After Mrs. Livingstone had left the room, Milly, with one or twoothers, stole up to reconnoiter. 

"Now I 'clar' for't, " said Milly, "if here ain't Marster John'sbootjack, fish-line, and box of tobacky, right out in far sight, andMiss Mabel comin' in here to sleep. 'Pears like some white folkshain't no idee of what 'longs to good manners. Here, Corind, put thejack in thar, the fish-line thar, the backy thar, and heave that arother thrash out o'door, " pointing to some geological specimens whichfrom time to time John Jr. Had gathered, and which his mother had notthought proper to molest. 

Corinda obeyed, and then Aunt Milly, who really possessed good taste, began to make some alterations in the arrangement of the furniture, and under her supervision the room began to present a more cheerfuland inviting aspect. 

"Get out with yer old airthen candlestick, " said she, turning up herbroad nose at the said article, which stood upon the stand. "What'sthem tall frosted ones in the parlor chamber for, if 'tain't to use. Go, Corind, and fetch 'em. "

But Corinda did not dare, and Aunt Milly went herself, taking theprecaution to bring them in the tongs, so that in the _denouement_she could stoutly deny having even "tached 'em, or even had 'em inher hands!" (So much for a subterfuge, where there is no moraltraining. )

When Mabel heard of the change, she seemed for a moment stupefied. Had she been consulted, had Mrs. Livingstone frankly stated herreasons for wishing her to take another room, she would haveconsented willingly, but to be thus summarily removed without ashadow of warning, hardly came up to her ideas of justice. Still, there was no help for it, and that night the bride of three monthswatered her lone pillow with tears, never once closing her heavyeyelids in sleep until the dim morning light came in through the openwindow, and the tread of the negroes' feet was heard in the yardbelow. Then, for many hours, the weary girl slumbered on, unconscious of the ill-natured remarks which her non-appearance waseliciting from Mrs. Livingstone, who said "it was strange what airssome people would put on; perhaps Mistress Mabel fancied herbreakfast would be sent to her room, or kept warm for her until suchtime as she chose to appear, but she'd find herself mistaken, for theservants had enough to do without waiting upon her, and if shecouldn't come up to breakfast, why, she must wait until dinner time. "

'Lena and Milly, however, thought differently. Softly had the latterstolen up to her cousin's room, gazing pityingly upon the pale, wornface, whose grieved, mournful expression told of sorrow which hadcome all too soon. 

"Let her sleep; it will do her good, " said 'Lena, adjusting thebed-clothes, and dropping the curtain so that the sunlight should notdisturb her, she left the chamber. 

An hour after, on entering the kitchen, she found Aunt Millypreparing a rich cream toast, which, with a cup of fragrant blacktea, were to be slyly conveyed to Mabel, who was now awake. 

"Reckon thar don't nobody starve as long as this nigger rules theroost, " said Milly, wiping one of the silver tea-spoons with a cornerof her apron, and then placing it in the cup destined for Mabel, who, not having seen her breakfast prepared, relished it highly, thinkingthe world was not, after all, so dark and dreary, for there were yeta few left who cared for her. 

Her headache of the day before still remained, and 'Lena suggestedthat she should stay in her room, saying that she would herself seethat every necessary attention was paid her. This she could the morereadily do, as Mrs. Livingstone had gone to Versailles with herhusband. That afternoon, as Mabel lay watching the drifting cloudsas they passed and repassed before the window, her ear suddenlycaught the sound of horses' feet. Nearer and nearer they came, untilwith a cry of delight she hid her face in the pillows, weeping forvery joy--for John Jr. Had come home! She could not be mistaken, andif there was any lingering doubt, it was soon lost in certainty, forshe heard his voice in the hall below, his footsteps on the stairs. He was coming, an unusual thing, to see her first. 

But how did he know she was there, in his old room? He did not knowit; he was only coming to put his rifle in its accustomed place, andon seeing the chamber filled with the various paraphernalia of awoman's toilet, he started, with the exclamation, "What the deuce! Ireckon I've got into the wrong pew, " and was going away, when Mabelcalled him back. "Meb, you here?" said he. "_You_ in this littletucked-up hole, that I always thought too small for me and my traps!What does it mean?"

Mabel had carefully studied the tones of her husband's voice, andknowing from the one he now assumed that he was not displeased withher, the sense of injustice done her by his mother burst out, andthrowing her arms around his neck, she told him everything connectedwith her removal, asking what his mother meant by saying, "she shouldnever get anything for their board, " and begging him "to take heraway where they could live alone and be happy. "

Since he had left her, John Jr. Had _thought_ a great deal, theresult of which was, that he determined on returning home much soonerthan he at first intended, promising himself to treat Mabel decently, and if possible win back the respect of 'Lena, which he knew he hadlost. To his companions, who urged him to remain, he replied that"he had left his wife sick, and he could not stay longer. "

It cost him a great effort to say "my wife, " for never before had heso called her, but he felt better the moment he had done so, andbidding his young friends adieu, he started for home with the sameimpetuous speed which usually characterized his riding. He had fullyexpected to meet Mabel in the parlor, and was even revolving in hisown mind the prospect of kissing her, provided 'Lena were present. "That'll prove to her, " thought he, "that I am not the hardenedwretch she thinks I am; so I'll do it, if Meb doesn't happen to beall bound up in camphor and aromatic vinegar, which I can't endure, anyway. "

Full of this resolution he had hastened home, going first to his oldroom, where he had come so unexpectedly upon Mabel that for a momenthe scarcely knew what to say. By the time, however, that she hadfinished her story, his mind was pretty well made up. 

"And so it's mother's doings, hey?" said he, violently pulling thebell-rope, and then walking up and down the room until Corindaappeared in answer to his summons. 

"How many blacks are there in the kitchen?" he asked. 

"Six or seven, besides Aunt Polly, " answered Corinda. 

"Very well. Tell every man of them to come up here, quick. "

Full of wonder Corinda departed, carrying the intelligence, andadding that "Marster John looked mighty black in the face", and shereckoned some on 'em would catch it, at the same time, for fear ofwhat might happen, secretly conveying back to the safe the piece ofcake which, in her mistress' absence, she had stolen! Aunt Milly'sfirst thought was of the frosted candlesticks, and by way ofimpressing upon Corinda a sense of what she might expect if in anyway she implicated her, she gave her a cuff in advance, bidding her"be keerful how she blabbed", then heading the sable group, sherepaired to the chamber, where John Jr. Was awaiting them. 

Advancing toward them, as they appeared in the doorway, he said, "Take hold here, every one of you, and move these things back wherethey came from. "

"Don't, oh don't, " entreated Mabel, but laying his hand over hermouth, John Jr. Bade her keep still, at the same time ordering thenegroes "to be quick. "

At first the younger portion of the blacks stood speechless, but AuntMilly, comprehending the whole at once, and feeling glad that hermistress had her match in her son, set to work with a right goodwill, and when about dusk Mrs. Livingstone came home, she wasastonished at seeing a light in the parlor chamber, whileoccasionally she could discern the outline of a form moving beforethe window. What could it mean? Perhaps they had company, andspringing from the carriage she hastened into the house, meeting'Lena in the hall, and eagerly asking who was in the front chamber. 

"I believe, " said 'Lena, "that my cousin is not pleased with thechange, and has gone back to the front room. "

"The impudent thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, ignorant of herson's return, and as a matter of course attributing the whole toMabel. 

Darting up the stairs, she advanced toward the chamber and pushingopen the door stood face to face with John Jr. , who, with handscrammed in his pockets and legs crossed, was leaning against themantel, waiting and ready for whatever might occur. 

"John Livingstone!" she gasped in her surprise. 

"That's my name, " he returned, quietly enjoying her look of amazement. 

"What do you mean?" she continued. 

"Mean what I say, " was his provoking answer. 

"What have you been about?" was her next question, to which hereplied, "Your eyesight is not deficient--you can see for yourself. "

Gaining no satisfaction from him, Mrs. Livingstone now turned uponMabel, abusing her until John Jr. Sternly commanded her to desist, bidding her "confine her remarks to himself, and let his wife alone, as she was not in the least to blame. "

"Your wife!" repeated Mrs. Livingstone--"very affectionate you'vegrown, all at once. Perhaps you've forgotten that you married her tospite Nellie, who you then believed was the bride of Mr. Wilbur, butyou surely remember how you fainted when you accidentally learnedyour mistake. "

A cry from Mabel, who fell back, fainting, among the pillows, prevented Mrs. Livingstone from any further remarks, and satisfiedwith the result of her visit, she walked away, while John Jr. , springing to the bedside, bore his young wife to the open window, hoping the cool night air would revive her. But she lay so pale andmotionless in his arms, her head resting so heavily upon hisshoulder, that with a terrible foreboding he laid her back upon thebed, and rushing to the door, shouted loudly, "Help--somebody--comequick--Mabel is dead, I know she is. "

'Lena heard the cry and hastened to the rescue, starting back whenshe saw the marble whiteness of Mabel's face. 

"I didn't kill her, 'Lena. God knows I didn't. Poor little Meb, "said John Jr. , quailing beneath 'Lena's rebuking glance, and bendinganxiously over the slight form which looked so much like death. 

But Mabel was not dead. 'Lena knew it by the faint fluttering of herheart, and an application of the usual remedies sufficed, at last, torestore her to consciousness. With a long-drawn sigh her eyesunclosed, and looking earnestly in 'Lena's face, she said, "Was it adream, 'Lena? Tell me, was it all a dream?"--then, as she observedher husband, she added, shudderingly, "No, no, not a dream. Iremember it all now. And I wish I was dead. "

Again 'Lena's rebuking glance went over to John Jr. , who, advancingnearer to Mabel, gently laid his hand upon her white brow, saying, softly, "Poor, poor Meb. "

There was genuine pity in the tones of his voice, and while the hottears gushed forth, the sick girl murmured, "Forgive me, John, Icouldn't help it. I didn't know it, and now, if you say so, I'll goaway, alone--where you'll never see me again. "

She comprehended it all. Her mother-in-law had rudely torn away theveil, and she saw why she was there--knew why he had sought her forhis wife--understood all his coldness and neglect; but she had noword of reproach for him, her husband, and from the depths of hercrushed heart she forgave him, commiserating him as the greatersufferer. 

"May be I shall die, " she whispered, "and then----"

She did not finish the sentence, neither was it necessary, for JohnJr. Understood what she meant, and with his conscience smiting him asit did, he felt half inclined to declare, with his usualimpulsiveness, that it should never be; but the rash promise was notmade, and it was far better that it should not be. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE SHADOW. 

Mabel's nerves had received too great a shock to rally immediately, andas day after day went by, she still kept her room, notwithstanding thevery pointed hints of her mother-in-law that "she was making believefor the sake of sympathy. " Why didn't she get up and go outdoors--anybody would be sick to be flat on their back day in and dayout; or did she think she was spiting her by showing what muss shecould keep the "best chamber" in if she chose?

This last was undoubtedly the grand secret of Mrs. Livingstone'sdissatisfaction. Foiled in her efforts to dislodge them, she would notyield without an attempt at making Mabel, at least, as uncomfortable inmind as possible. Accordingly, almost every day when her son was notpresent, she conveyed from the room some nice article of furniture, substituting in its place one of inferior quality, which was quite goodenough, she thought, for a penniless bride. 

"'Pears like ole miss goin' to make a clean finish of her dis time, "said Aunt Milly, who watched her mistress' daily depredations. "OleSam done got title deed of her, sure enough. Ki! won't she ketch it int'other world, when he done show her his cloven foot, and won't sheholler for old Milly to fotch her a drink of water? not particularthen--drink out of the bucket, gourd-shell, or anything; but disnigger'll 'sign her post in de parlor afore she'll go. "

"Why, Milly, " said 'Lena, who overheard this colloquy, "don't you knowit's wrong to indulge in such wicked thoughts?"

"Bless you, child, " returned the old negress, "she 'sarves 'em all fortreatin' that poor, dear lamb so. I'd 'nihilate her if I's Miss Mabel. "

"No, no, Milly, " said Aunt Polly, who was present. "You must heapcoals of fire on her head. "

"Yes, yes, that's it--she orto have 'em, " quickly responded Milly, thinking Polly's method of revenge the very best in the world, providedthe coals were "bilin' hot, " and with this reflection she startedupstairs, with a bowl of nice, warm gruel she had been preparing forthe invalid. 

Several times each day Grandma Nichols visited Mabel's room, alwaysprescribing some new tea of herbs, whose healing qualities werewonderful, having effected cures in every member of Nancy Scovandyke'sfamily, that lady herself, as a matter of course, being first included. And Aunt Milly, with the faithfulness characteristic of her race, wouldseek out each new herb, uniting with it her own simple prayer that itmight have the desired effect. But all in vain, for every day Mabelbecame weaker, while her dark eyes grew larger and brighter, anonlighting up with joy as she heard her husband's footsteps in the hall, and again filling with tears as she glanced timidly into his face, andthought of the dread reality. 

"Maybe I shall die, " was more than once murmured in her sleep, and JohnJr. , as often as he heard those words, would press her burning hands, and mentally reply, "Poor little Meb. "

And all this time no one thought to call a physician, until Mr. Livingstone himself at last suggested it. At first he had felt nointerest whatever in his daughter-in-law, but with him force of habitwas everything, and when she no longer came among them, he missedher--missed her languid steps upon the stairs and her childish voice inthe parlor. At last it one day occurred to him to visit her. She wassleeping when he entered the room, but he could see there had been afearful change since last he looked upon her, and without a wordconcerning his intentions, he walked to the kitchen, ordering one ofhis servants to start forthwith for the physician, whose residence wasa few miles distant. 

Mrs. Livingstone was in the front parlor when he returned, in companywith Doctor Gordon, and immediately her avaricious spirit asked whowould pay the bill, and why was he sent for. Mabel did not needhim--she was only babyish and spleeny--and so she told the physician, who, however, did not agree with her. He did not say that Mabel woulddie, but he thought so, for his experienced eye saw in her infalliblesigns of the disease which had stricken down both her parents, and towhich, from her birth, she had been a prey. Mabel guessed as much fromhis manner, and when again he visited her, she asked him plainly whathe thought. 

She was young--a bride--surrounded apparently by everything which couldmake her happy, and the physician hesitated, answering her evasively, until she said, "Do not fear to tell me truly, for I want to die. Oh, I long to die, " she continued, passionately clasping her thin whitehands together. 

"That is an unusual wish in one so young, " answered the physician, "butto be plain with you, Mrs. Livingstone, I think consumption too deeplyseated to admit of your recovery. You may be better, but never well. Your disease is hereditary, and has been coming on too long. "

"It is well, " was Mabel's only answer, as she turned wearily upon herside and hid her face in the pillows. 

For a long time she lay there, thinking, weeping, and thinking again, of the noisome grave through which she must pass, and from which sheinstinctively shrank, it was so dark, so cold, and dreary. But Mabelhad trusted in One who she knew would go with her down into the lonevalley--whose arm she felt would uphold her as she crossed the dark, rolling stream of death; and as if her frail bark were already safelymoored upon the shores of the eternal river, she looked back dreamilyupon the world she had left, and as she saw what she felt would surelybe, she again murmured through her tears, "It is well. "

That night, when John Jr. Came up to his room, he appeared somewhatmoody and cross, barely speaking to Mabel, and then walking up and downthe room with the heavy tread which always indicated a storm within. He had that day been to Frankfort, hearing that Nellie was reallycoming home very soon--very possibly she was now on her way. Of courseshe would visit Mabel, when she heard she was sick, and of course hemust meet her face to face, must stand with her at the bedside of _hiswife_ and that wife Mabel. In his heart he did not accuse the latterof feigning her illness, but he wished she would get well faster, sothat Nellie need not feel obliged to visit her. She could at leastmake an effort--a great deal depended upon that--and she had now beenconfined to her room three or four weeks. 

Thus he reflected as he walked, and at last his thoughts formedthemselves into words. Stopping short at the foot of the bed, he saidabruptly and without looking her in the face, "How do you feel tonight?"

The stifled cough which Mabel tried to suppress because it wasoffensive to him, brought a scowl to his forehead, and in imaginationhe anticipated her answer, "I do not think I am any better. "

"And I don't believe you try to be, " sprang to his lips, but itsutterance was prevented by a glance at her face, which by theflickering lamplight looked whiter than ever. 

"Nellie is coming home in a few weeks, " he said at length, with hisusual precipitancy. 

'Twas the first time Mabel had heard that name since the night when hermother-in-law had rang it in her ears, and now she started so quickly, that the offending cough could not be forced back, and the coughing fitwhich followed was so violent that John Jr. , as he held the bowl to herquivering lips, saw that what she had raised was streaked with blood. But he was unused to sickness, and he gave it no farther thought, resuming the conversation as soon as she became quiet. 

"To be plain, Meb, " said he, "I want you to hurry and get well beforeNellie comes--for if you are sick she'll feel in duty bound to visityou, and I'd rather face a loaded cannon than her. "

Mabel was too much exhausted to answer immediately, and she lay so longwith her eyes closed that John Jr. , growing impatient, said, "Are youasleep, Meb?"

"No, no, " said she, at the same time requesting him to take the vacantchair by her side, as she wished to talk with him. 

John Jr. Hated to be talked to, particularly by her, for he felt thatshe had much cause to reproach him; but she did not, and as sheproceeded, his heart melted toward her in a manner which he had neverthought possible. Very gently she spoke of her approaching end as sure. 

"You ask me to make haste and be well, " said she, "but it cannot be. Ishall never go out into the bright sunshine again, never join you inthe parlor below, and before the cold winds of winter are blowing, Ishall be dead. I hope I shall live until Nellie comes, for I must seeher, I must make it right between her and you. I must tell her toforgive you for marrying me when you loved only her; and she willlisten--she won't refuse me, and when I am gone you'll be happytogether. "

John Jr. Did not speak, but the little hand which nervously movedtoward him was met more than half-way, and thus strengthened, Mabelcontinued: "You must sometimes think and speak of Mabel when she isdead. I do not ask you to call me wife. I do not wish it, but youmust forget how wretched I have made you, for oh, I did not mean it, and had I sooner known what I do now, I would have died ere I hadcaused you one pang of sorrow. "

Afterward, when it was too late, John Jr. Would have given worlds torecall that moment, that he might tell the broken-hearted girl howbitterly he, too, repented of all the wrong he had done her; but he didnot say so then--he could only listen, while he mentally resolved thatif Mabel were indeed about to die, he would make the remainder of hershort life happy, and thus atone, as far as possible, for the past. But alas for John Jr. , his resolutions were easily broken, and as daysand weeks went by, and there was no perceptible change in her, he grewweary of well-doing, absenting himself whole days from the sick-room, and at night rather unwillingly resuming his post as watcher, for Mabelwould have no one else. 

Since Mabel's illness he had occupied the little room adjoining hers, and often when in the still night he lay awake, watching the shadowwhich the lamp cast upon the wall, and thinking of her for whom thelight was constantly kept burning, his conscience would smite himterribly, and rising up, he would steal softly to her bedside to see ifshe were sleeping quietly. But anon he grew weary of this, too; theshadow on the wall troubled him, it kept him awake; it was a continualreproach, and he must be rid of it, somehow. He tried the experimentof closing his door, but Mabel knew the moment he attempted it, and hecould not refuse her when she asked him to leave it open. 

John Jr. Grew restless, fidgety, and nervous. Why need the lamp bekept burning? He could light it when necessary; or why need he sleepthere, when some one else would do as well? He thought of 'Lena--shewas just the one, and the next day he would speak to her. To his greatjoy she consented to relieve him awhile, provided Mabel were willing;but she was not, and John Jr. Was forced to submit. He was notaccustomed to restraint, and every night matters grew worse and worse. The shadow annoyed him exceedingly. If he slept, he dreamed that itkept a glimmering watch over him, and when he awoke, he, in turn, watched over that, until the misty day-light came to dissipate thephantom. 

About this time several families from Frankfort started for NewOrleans, where they were wont to spend the winter, and irresistibly, John Jr. Became possessed of a desire to visit that city, too. Mabelwould undoubtedly live until spring, now that the trying part of autumnwas past and there could be no harm in his leaving her for awhile, whenhe so much needed rest. Accordingly, 'Lena was one day surprised byhis announcing his intended trip. 

"But you cannot be in earnest, " she said; "you surely will not leaveMabel now. "

"And why not?" he asked. "She doesn't grow any worse, and won't untilspring, and this close confinement is absolutely killing me! Why, I'velost six pounds in six months, and you'll see to her, I know you will. You're a good girl, and I like you, if I did get angry with you, weeksago when I went a hunting. "

'Lena knew he ought not to go, and she tried hard to convince him ofthe fact, telling him how much pleasure she had felt in observing hisimproved manner toward Mabel, and that he must not spoil it now. 

"It's no use talking, " said he, "I'm bent on going somewhere. I'vetried to be good, I know, but the fact is, I can't stay _put_. Itisn't my nature. I shan't tell Meb till just before I start, for Ihate scenes. "

"And suppose she dies while you are gone?" asked 'Lena. 

John was beginning to grow impatient, for he knew he was wrong, andrather tartly he answered, as he left the room, "Give her a decentburial, and present the bill to mother!"

"The next morning, as 'Lena sat alone with Mabel, John Jr. Entered, dressed and ready for his journey. But he found it harder telling hiswife than he had anticipated. She looked unusually pale this morning. The sallowness of her complexion was all gone, and on either cheekthere burned a round, bright spot. 'Lena had just been arranging herthick, glossy hair, and now, wholly exhausted, she reclined upon herpillows, while her large black eyes, unnaturally bright, sparkled withjoy at the sight of her husband. But they quickly filled with tearswhen told that he was going away, and had come to say good-bye. 

"It's only to New Orleans and back, " he said, as he saw her changingface. "I shan't be gone long, and 'Lena will take care of you a heapbetter than I can. "

"It isn't that, " answered Mabel, wiping her tears away. "Don't go, John. Wait a little while. I'm sure it won't be long. "

"You are nervous, " said he, playfully lapping her white cheek. "You'renot going to die. You'll live to be grandmother yet, who knows? But Imust be off or lose the train. Good bye, little Meb, " grasping herhand, "Good-bye, 'Lena. I'll bring you both something nice--good-bye. "

When she saw that he was going, Mabel asked him to come back to herbedside just for one moment. He could not refuse, and winding herlong, emaciated arms around his neck, she whispered, "Kiss me oncebefore you go. I shall never ask it again, and 'twill make me happierwhen you are gone. "

"A dozen times, if you like, " said he, giving her the only husband'skiss she had ever received. 

For a moment longer she detained him, while she prayed silently forheaven's blessing on his wayward head, and then releasing him, she badehim go. Had he known of all that was to follow, he would not have lefther, but he believed as he said, that she would survive the winter, andwith one more kiss upon her brow, where the perspiration was standingthickly, he departed. The window of Mabel's room commanded a view ofthe turnpike, and when the sound of horses' feet was heard on the lawn, she requested 'Lena to lead her to the window, where she stood watchinghim until a turn in the road hid him from her sight. 

"'Tis the last time, " said she, "and he will never know how much thisparting cost me. "

That night, as they were alone in the gathering twilight, Mabel said, "If I die before Nellie comes I want you to tell her how it allhappened, and that she must forgive him, for he was not to blame. "

"I do not understand you, " said 'Lena, and then, in broken sentences, Mabel told what her mother-in-law had said, and how terribly John wasdeceived. "Of course he couldn't love me after that, " said she, "andit's right that I should die. He and Nellie were made for each other, and if the inhabitants of heaven are allowed to watch over those theyloved on earth, I will ask to be always near them. You will tell her, won't you?"

'Lena promised, adding that she thought Mabel would see Nellie herselfas she was to sail from Liverpool the 20th, and a few days proved herconjecture correct. Entering Mabel's room one morning about a weekafter John's departure, she brought the glad news that Nellie hadreturned, and would be with them to-morrow. 

The next day Nellie came, but she, too, was changed. The roundness ofher form and face was gone; the rose had faded from her cheek, and herfootsteps were no longer light and bounding as of old. She knew ofJohn Jr. 's absence or she would not have come, for she could not meethim face to face. She had heard, too, of his treatment of Mabel, andwhile she felt indignant toward him, she freely forgave his innocentwife, who she felt had been more sinned against than sinning. 

With a faint cry Mabel started from her pillow, and burying her face onNellie's neck, wept like a child. "You do not hate me, " she said atlast, "or you would not have come so soon. "

"Hate you?--no, " answered Nellie. "I have no cause for hating _you_. "

"And you will stay with me until I die--until he comes home--andforgive him, too, " Mabel continued. 

"I can promise the first, but the latter is harder, " said Nellie, hercheeks burning with anger as she gazed on the wreck before her. 

"But you must, you will, " exclaimed Mabel, rapidly telling all sheknew; then falling back upon the pillow, she added, "You'll forgive himNellie?"

As time passed on, Mabel grew weaker and weaker, clinging closer toNellie as she felt the dark shadow of death creeping gradually over her. 

"If he'd only come, " she would say, "and I could place your hand in hisbefore I died. "

But it was not to be. Day after day John Jr. Lingered, dreading toreturn, for he knew Nellie was there, and he could not meet her, hethought, at the bedside of Mabel. So he tarried until a letter from'Lena, which said that Mabel would die, decided him, and ratherreluctantly he started homeward. Meantime Mabel, who knew nothing ofher loss, conceived the generous idea of willing all her possessions toher recreant husband. 

"Perhaps he'll think more kindly of me, " said she to his father, towhom she first communicated her plan, and Mr. Livingstone felt that hecould not undeceive her. 

Accordingly, a lawyer was summoned from Frankfort, and the will dulydrawn up, signed, sealed, and delivered into the hands of Mr. Livingstone, whose wife, with a mocking laugh, bade him "guard itcarefully, it was so valuable. "

"It shows her goodness of heart, at least, " said he, and possibly Mrs. Livingstone thought so, too, for from that time her manner softenedgreatly toward her daughter-in-law. 

 * * * * * *

It was midnight at Maple grove. On the table, in its accustomed place, the lamp was burning dimly, casting the shadow upon the wall, whilstover the whole room a darker shadow was brooding. The window was open, and the cool night air came softly in, lifting the masses of raven hairfrom off the pale brow of the dying. Tenderly above her Nellie and'Lena were bending. They had watched by her many a night, and now sheasked them not to leave her, not to disturb a single one--she wouldrather die alone. 

The sound of horses' hoofs rang out on the still air, but she did notheed it. Nearer and nearer it came, over the lawn, up the graveledwalk, through the yard, and Nellie's face blanched to an unnaturalwhiteness as she thought who that midnight-rider was. Arrived inFrankfort only an hour before, he had hastened forward, impelled by asomething he could not resist. From afar he had caught the glimmeringlight, and he felt he was not too late. He knew how to enter thehouse, and on through the wide hall and up the broad staircase he came, until he stood in the chamber, where before him another guest hadentered, whose name was Death!

Face to face he stood with Nellie Douglass, and between them lay _his_wife--_her_ rival--the white hands folded meekly upon her bosom, andthe pale lips just as they had breathed a prayer for him. 

"Mabel! She is dead!" was all he uttered, and falling upon his knees, he buried his face in the pillow, while half scornfully, halfpityingly, Nellie gazed upon him. 

There was much of bitterness in her heart toward him, not for the wronghe had done her, but for the sake of the young girl, now passed foreveraway. 'Lena felt differently. His silent grief conquered allresentment, and going to his side, she told him how peacefully Mabelhad died--how to the last she had loved and remembered him, prayingthat he might be happy when she was gone, "Poor little Meb, she deserved a better fate, " was all he said, as hecontinued his kneeling posture, until the family and servants, whomNellie had summoned, came crowding round, the cries of the lattergrating on the ear, and seeming sadly out of place for her whose shortlife had been so dreary, and who had welcomed death as a release fromall her pain. 

It was Mrs. Livingstone's wish that Mabel should be arrayed in herbridal robes, but with a shudder at the idle mockery, John Jr. Answered, "No, " and in a plain white muslin, her shining hair arrayedas she was wont to wear it, they placed her in her coffin, and on asunny slope where the golden sunlight and the pale moonbeams latestfell, and where in spring the bright green grass and the sweet wildflowers are earliest seen, laid her down to steep. 

That night, when all around was still, John Jr. Lay musing sadly ofthe past. His affection for Mabel had been slight and variable, butnow that she was gone, he missed her. The large easy-chair, with itscushions and pillows, was empty, and as he thought of the pale, darkface and aching head he had so often seen reclining there, and which hewould never see again, he groaned in bitterness of spirit, for well heknew that he had helped to break the heart now lying cold and stillbeneath the coffin-lid. There was no shadow on the wall, for the lamphad gone out with the young life for whom it had been kept burning, butmany a shadow lay dark and heavy across his heart. 

With the sun-setting a driving rain had come on, and as the Novemberwind went howling past the window, and the large drops beat against thecasement, he thought of the lonesome little grave on which that rainwas falling; and shuddering, he hid his face in the pillows, asking tobe forgiven, for he knew that all too soon that grave was made, and hehad helped to make it. At last, long after the clock had told the hourof midnight, he arose, and lighting the lamp which many a weary nighthad burned for _her_, he placed it where the shadow would fall upon thewall as it had done of old. It was no longer a phantom to annoy him, and soothed by its presence, he fell asleep, dreaming that Mabel hadcome back to bring him her forgiveness, but when he essayed to touchher, she vanished from his sight, and there was nothing left save thatshadow on the wall. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

MRS. GRAHAM'S RETURN. 

Mr. And Mrs. Graham had returned to Woodlawn, the former remainingbut a day and night, and then, without once seeing 'Lena, departingfor Europe, where business, either fancied or real, called him. Often, when lying weary and sick in Havana, had he resolved onrevealing to his wife the secret which he felt was wearing his lifeaway, but the cowardice of his nature seemed increased by physicalweakness, and from time to time was the disclosure postponed, whilethe chain of evidence was fearfully lengthening around poor 'Lena, towhom Mrs. Graham had transferred the entire weight of her displeasure. 

Loving her husband as well as such as she could love, she was everready to forgive when she saw any indications of reform on his part, and as during all their journey he had never once given her cause foroffense, she began to attribute his former delinquencies wholly to'Lena; and when he proposed a tour to Europe she readily sanctionedit, hoping that time and absence would remove from his mind allthoughts of the beautiful girl, who she thought was her rival. Still, though she would not confess it, in her heart she did notbelieve 'Lena guilty except so far as a desire to attract Mr. Graham's attention would make her so. 

For this belief she had a good and potent reason. The daguerreotypewhich had caused so much trouble was still in her possession, guardedcarefully from her husband, who never suspecting the truth, supposedhe had lost it. Frequently had Mrs. Graham examined the picture, each time discovering some point of difference between it and itssupposed original. Still she never for a moment doubted that it was'Lena, until an event occurred which convinced her of the contrary, leaving her, meantime, more mystified than ever. 

On their way home from Havana, Mr. Graham had proposed stopping a dayin Cincinnati, taking rooms at the Burnet House, where the firstindividual whom they saw at the table was our old acquaintance, JoelSlocum. Not finding his business as profitable in Lexington as hecould wish, he had recently removed to Cincinnati. Here his aspiringmind had prompted him to board at the Burnet House, until he'd seenthe "Ohio elephant, " when he intended retiring to one of the cheaperboarding-houses. The moment he saw Mr. Graham, a grin of recognitionbecame visible on his face, bringing to view a row of very long andvery yellow teeth, apparently unacquainted with the use of eitherwater or brush. 

"Who is that loafer who seems to know you?" asked Mrs. Graham, directing her husband's attention toward Joel. 

Mr. Graham replied that "he had once seen him in Lexington, and thathe took daguerreotypes. "

The moment dinner was over, Joel came forward, going through with oneof his wonderful bows, and exclaiming, with his peculiar nasal twang, "Now you don't say this is you. And this is your old woman, Is'pose. Miss Graham, how-dy-du? Darned if you don't look like AuntNancy, only she's lean and you are squatty. S'posin' you give me acall and get your picters taken. I didn't get an all-killin' sightof practice in Lexington, for the plaguy greenhorns didn't knowenough to patternize me, and 'taint a tarnation sight better here;but you, " turning to Mr. Graham, "employed me once, and pretended tobe suited. "

Mr. Graham turned scarlet, and saying something in an undertone toJoel, gave his wife his arm, leading her to their room, where he madean excuse for leaving her awhile. Looking from the window a momentafter, Mrs. Graham saw him walking down the street in closeconversation with Joel, who, by the way of showing his importance, lifted his white beaver to almost every man he met. Instantly hercuriosity was roused, and when her husband returned, every motion ofhis was narrowly watched, the espionage resulting in the convictionthat there was something in his possession which he did not wish herto see. Once, when she came unexpectedly upon him, he hastily thrustsomething into his pocket, appearing so much confused that sheresolved to ferret out the secret. 

Accordingly, that night, when assured by his heavy breathing that hewas asleep, she crept softly from his side, and rummaging hispockets, found a daguerreotype, which by the full moonlight she sawwas a _fac-simile_ of the one she had in her possession. Thearrangement of the hair--everything--was the same, and utterlyconfounded, she stood gazing first at one and then at the other, wondering what it meant. Could 'Lena be in the city? She thoughtnot, and even if she were, the last daguerreotype was not so muchlike her, she fancied, as the first. At all events, she did not daresecrete it as she had done its companion, and stealthily returning itto its place, she crept back to bed. 

The next night they reached Woodlawn, where they learned that Mabelwas buried that day. Of course 'Lena could not have been absent fromhome. Mrs. Graham felt convinced of that, and gradually theconviction came upon her that another than 'Lena was the original ofthe daguerreotypes. And yet she was not generous enough to tellDurward so. She knew he was deceived--she wished him to remainso--and to effect it, she refrained from seeking an explanation fromher husband, fearing lest 'Lena should be proved innocent. Herhusband knew there was a misunderstanding between Durward and 'Lena, and if she were to ask him about the pictures, he would, she thought, at once suspect the cause of that misunderstanding, and as a matterof course, exonerate 'Lena from all blame. The consequence of thisshe foresaw, and therefore she resolved upon keeping her own counsel, satisfied if in the end she prevented Durward from making 'Lena hiswife. 

To effect this, she endeavored, during the winter, to keep the matteralmost constantly before Durward's mind, frequently referring to'Lena's agitation when she first learned that Mr. Graham had startedfor Europe. She had called with her son at Maple Grove on the veryday of her husband's departure. 'Lena had not met the lady before, since that night in Frankfort, and now, with the utmost hauteur, shereturned her nod, and then, too proud to leave the room, resumed herseat near the window directly opposite the divan on which Durward wasseated with Carrie. 

She did not know before of Mrs. Graham's return, and when her auntcasually asked, "Did your husband come back with you?" sheinvoluntarily held her breath for the answer, which, when it came, sent the blood in torrents to her face and neck, while her eyessparkled with joy. She should see him--he would explaineverything--and she should be guiltless in Durward's sight. This wasthe cause of her joy, which was quickly turned into sorrow by Mrs. Graham's adding, "But he started this morning for Europe, where he will remain threemonths, and perhaps longer, just according to his business. "

The bright flush died away, and was succeeded by paleness, which didnot escape the observation or either mother or son, the latter ofwhom had watched her from the first, noting each change, andinterpreting it according to his fears. 

"'Lena, 'Lena, how have I been deceived!" was his mental cry as sheprecipitately left the room, saying to her aunt, who asked what wasthe matter, that she was faint and dizzy. Death had been butyesterday within their walls, and as if softened by its presence, Mrs. Livingstone actually spoke kindly of her niece, saying, that"constant watching with poor, dear Mabel had impaired her health. "

"Perhaps there are other causes which may affect her, " returned Mrs. Graham, with a meaning look, which, though lost on Mrs. Livingstone, was noticed by Durward, who soon proposed leaving. 

On their way home, his mother asked if he observed 'Lena when Mr. Graham was mentioned. 

Without saying that he did, Durward replied, "I noticed your remarkto Mrs. Livingstone, and was sorry for it, for I do not wish you tosay a word which will throw the least shade of suspicion upon 'Lena. Her reputation as yet is good, and you must not be the first to sayaught against it. "

"I won't, I won't, " answered Mrs. Graham, anxious to conciliate herson, but she found it a harder matter to refrain than she had firstsupposed. 

'Lena was to her a constant eye-sore, and nothing but the presence ofDurward prevented her from occasionally giving vent in public toexpressions which would have operated unfavorably against the younggirl, and when at last circumstances occurred which gave her, as shethought, liberty to free her mind, she was only too willing to do so. Of those circumstances, in which others besides 'Lena were concerned, we will speak in another chapter. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

ANNA AND CAPTAIN ATHERTON. 

Malcolm Everett's engagement with General Fontaine had expired, andas was his original intention, he started for New York, first seekingan interview with Mr. And Mrs. Livingstone, of whom he asked theirdaughter Anna in marriage, at the same time announcing the startlingfact that they had been engaged for more than a year. "I do not askyou for her now, " said he, "for I am not in a situation to supporther as I would wish to, but that time will come ere long, I trust, and I can assure you that her happiness shall be the first object ofmy life. "

There was no cringing on the part of Malcolm Everett. He was unusedto that, and as an equal meets an equal, he met them, made known hisrequest, and then in silence awaited their answer. Had Mrs. Livingstone been less indignant, there would undoubtedly have ensueda clamorous call for hartshorn and vinaigrette, but as it was, shestarted up, and confronting the young man, she exclaimed, "How dareyou ask such a thing? _My_ daughter marry _you_!"

"And why not, madam?" he answered, coolly, while Mrs. Livingstonecontinued: "_You_, a low-born Yankee, who have been, as it were, anhireling. _You_ presume to ask for _my_ daughter!"

"I do, " he answered calmly, with a quiet smile, ten-fold moretantalizing than harsh words would have been, "I do. Can I have herwith your consent?"

"Never, so long as I live. I'd sooner see her dead than wedded tovulgar poverty. "

"That is your answer. Very well, " said Malcolm, bowing stiffly. "And now I will hear yours, " turning to Mr. Livingstone, who replied, that "he would leave the matter entirely with his wife--it wasnothing to him--he had nothing personal against Mr. Everett--herather liked him than otherwise, but he hardly thought Anna suited tohim, she had been brought up so differently;" and thus evasivelyanswering, he walked away. 

"Cowardly fool!" muttered Mrs. Livingstone, as the door closed uponhim. "If I pretended to be a man, I'd be one;" then turning toMalcolm, she said, "Is there anything further you wish to say?"

"Nothing, " he replied. "I have honorably asked you for yourdaughter. You have refused her, and must abide the consequence. "

"And pray what may that be?" she asked, and he answered: "She willsoon be of an age to act for herself, and though I would far rathertake her with your consent, I shall not then hesitate to take herwithout, if you still persist in opposing her. "

"There is the door, " said Mrs. Livingstone rising. 

"I see it, madam, " answered Malcolm, without deigning to move. 

"Oblige me by passing out, " continued Mrs. Livingstone. "Insolentcreature, to stand here threatening to elope with my daughter, whohas been destined for another since her infancy. "

"But she shall never become the bride of that old man, " answeredMalcolm. "I know your schemes. I've seen them all along, and I willfrustrate them, too. "

"You cannot, " fiercely answered Mrs. Livingstone. "It shall be ereanother year comes round, and when you hear that it is so, know thatyou hastened it forward;" and the indignant lady, finding that heropponent was not inclined to move, left the room herself, going inquest of Anna, whom she determined to watch for fear of what mighthappen. 

But Anna was nowhere to be found, and in a paroxysm of rage shealarmed the household, instituting a strict search, which resulted inthe discovery of Anna beneath the same sycamore where Malcolm hadfirst breathed his vows, and whither she had repaired to await thedecision of her parents. 

"I expected as much, " said she, when told of the result, "but itmatters not. I am yours, and I'll never marry another. "

The approach of the servants prevented any further conversation, andwith a hurried adieu they parted. A few days afterward, as Mrs. Livingstone, sat in her large easy-chair before the glowing grate, Captain Atherton was announced, and shown at once into her room. Todo Mrs. Livingstone justice, we must say that she had long debatedthe propriety of giving Anna, in all the freshness of her girlhood, to a man old as her father, but any hesitancy she had heretoforefelt, had now vanished. The crisis had come, and when the captain, as he had two or three times before done, broached the subject, urging her to a decision, she replied that she was willing, providedAnna's consent could be gained. 

"Pho! that's easy enough, " said the captain, complacently rubbingtogether his fat hands and smoothing his colored whiskers--"Bring herin here, and I'll coax her in five minutes. "

Anna was sitting with her grandmother and 'Lena, when word came thather mother wished to see her, the servant adding, with a titter, that"Mas'r Atherton thar too. "

Instinctively she knew why she was sent for, and turning white asmarble, she begged her cousin to go with her. But 'Lena refused, soothing the agitated girl, and begging her to be calm. "You've onlyto be decided, " said she, "and it will soon be over. CaptainAtherton, I am sure, will not insist when he sees how repugnant toyour feelings it is. "

But Anna knew her own weakness--she could never say, in her mother'spresence, what she felt--and trembling like an aspen, she descendedthe stairs, meeting in the lower hall her brother, who asked what wasthe matter. 

"Oh, John, John, " she cried, "Captain Atherton is in there withmother, and they have sent for me. What shall I do?"

"Be a woman, " answered John Jr. "Tell him _no_ in good broadEnglish, and if the old fellow insists, I'll blow his brains out!"

But the Captain did not insist. He was too cunning for that, andwhen, with a burst of tears, Anna told him she could not be his wifebecause she loved another, he said, good-humoredly, "Well, well, never mind spoiling those pretty blue eyes. I'm not such an oldsavage as you think me. So we'll compromise the matter this way. Ifyou really love Malcolm, why, marry him, and on your bridal day I'llmake you a present of a nice little place I have in Frankfort; butif, on the other hand, Malcolm proves untrue, you must promise tohave me. Come, that's a fair bargain. What do you say?"

"Malcolm will never prove untrue, " answered Anna. 

"Of course not, " returned the captain. "So you are safe inpromising. '

"But what good will it do you?" queried Anna. 

"No good, in particular, " said the captain. "It's only a whim ofmine, to which I thought you might perhaps agree, in consideration ofmy offer. "

"I do--I will, " said Anna, thinking the captain not so bad after all. 

"There's mischief somewhere, and I advise you to watch, " said JohnJr. , when he learned from Anna the result of the interview. 

But week after week glided by. Mrs. Livingstone's persecutionsceased, and she sometimes herself handed to Anna Malcolm's letters, which came regularly, and when about the first of March CaptainAtherton himself went off to Washington, Anna gave her fears to thewind, and all the day long went singing about the house, unmindful ofthe snare laid for her unsuspecting footsteps. At length Malcolm'sletters suddenly ceased, and though Anna wrote again and again, therecame no answer. Old Caesar, who always carried and brought the mailfor Maple Grove, was questioned, but he declared he "done got nonefrom Mas'r Everett, " and suspicion in that quarter was lulled. Unfortunately for Anna, both her father and John Jr. Were now away, and she had no counselor save 'Lena, who once, on her ownresponsibility, wrote to Malcolm, but with a like success, and Anna'sheart grew weary with hope deferred. Smilingly Mrs. Livingstonelooked on, one moment laughing at Anna for what she termedlove-sickness, and the next advising her to be a woman, and marryCaptain Atherton. "He was not very old--only forty-three--and it wasbetter to be an old man's darling than a young man's slave!"

Thus the days wore on, until one evening just as the family weresitting down to tea they were surprised by a call from the captain, who had returned that afternoon, and who, with the freedom of an oldfriend, unceremoniously entered the supper-room, appropriating tohimself the extra plate which Mrs. Livingstone always had upon thetable. Simultaneously with him came Caesar, who having been to thepost-office, had just returned, bringing, besides other things, apaper for Carrie, from her old admirer, Tom Lakin, who lived inRockford, at which place the paper was printed. Several times hadTom remembered Carrie in this way, and now carelessly glancing at thefirst page, she threw it upon the floor, whence it was taken by Anna, who examined it more minutely glancing, as a matter of course, to themarriage notices. 

Meantime the captain, who was sitting by 'Lena, casually remarked, "Oh, I forgot to tell you that I saw Mr. Everett in Washington. "

"Mr. Everett--Malcolm Everett?" said 'Lena, quickly. 

"Yes, Malcolm Everett, " answered the captain. 

"He is there spending the honeymoon with his bride!"

'Lena's exclamation of astonishment was prevented by a shriek fromAnna, who had that moment read the announcement of Mr. Everett'smarriage, which was the first in the list. It was Malcolm H. Everett--there could be no mistake--and when 'Lena reached hercousin's side, she found that she had fainted. All was now inconfusion, in the midst of which the Captain took his leave, havingfirst managed to speak a few words in private with Mrs. Livingstone. 

"Fortune favors us, " was her reply, as she went back to her daughter, whose long, death-like swoon almost wrung from her the secret. 

But Anna revived, and with the first indication of returningconsciousness, the cold, hard woman stifled all her better feelings, and then tried to think she was acting only for the good of herchild. For a long time Anna appeared to be in a kind of benumbedtorpor, requesting to be left alone, and shuddering if Mr. Everett'sname were mentioned in her presence. It was in vain that 'Lenastrove to comfort her, telling her there might be some mistake. Annarefused to listen, angrily bidding 'Lena desist, and sayingfrequently that she cared but little what became of herself now. Aspecies of recklessness seemed to have taken possession of her, andwhen her mother one day carelessly remarked that possibly CaptainAtherton would claim the fulfillment of her promise, she answered, inthe cold, indifferent tone which now marked her manner of speaking, "Let him. I am ready and willing for the sacrifice. "

"Are you in earnest?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, eagerly. 

"In earnest? Yes--try me and see, " was Anna's brief answer, whichsomewhat puzzled her mother, who would in reality have preferredopposition to this unnatural passiveness. 

But anything to gain her purpose, she thought, and drawing Annaclosely to her side, she very gently and affectionately told her howhappy it would make her could she see her the wife of CaptainAtherton, who had loved and waited for her so long, and who wouldleave no wish, however slight, ungratified. And Anna, with no shadowof emotion on her calm, white face, consented to all that her motherasked, and when next the captain came, she laid her feverish hand inhis, and with a strange, wild light beaming from her dark blue eyes, promised to share his fortunes as his wife. 

"'Twill be winter and spring, " said she, with a bitter, mockinglaugh, "'Twill be winter and spring, but it matters not. "

Many years before, when a boy of eighteen, Captain Atherton hadloved, or fancied he loved, a young girl, whose very name afterwardbecame hateful to him, and now, as he thought of Anna's affection forMalcolm, he likened it to his own boyish fancy, believing she wouldsoon get over it, and thank him for what he had done. 

That night Anna saw the moon and stars go down, bending far out fromher window, that the damp air might cool her burning brow, and whenthe morning sun came up the eastern horizon, its first beams fell onthe golden curls which streamed across the window-sill, her onlypillow the livelong night. On 'Lena's mind a terrible conviction wasfastening itself--Anna was crazed. She saw it in the wildness of hereye, in the tones of her voice, and more than all, in the readinesswith which she yielded herself to her mother's schemes, "But it shallnot be, " she thought, "I will save her, " and then she knelt beforeher aunt, imploring her to spare her daughter--not to sacrifice heron the altar of mammon. 

But Mrs. Livingstone turned angrily away, telling her to mind her ownaffairs. Then 'Lena sought her cousin, and winding her arms aroundher neck, besought of her to resist--to burst the chain which boundher, and be free. But with a shake other head, Anna bade her goaway. "Leave me, 'Lena Rivers, " she said, "leave me to work out mydestiny. It is decreed that I shall be his wife, and I may notstruggle against it. Each night I read it in the stars, and thewind, as it sighs through the maple trees, whispers it to my ear. "

"Oh, if my aunt could see her now, " thought 'Lena but as if hermother's presence had a paralyzing power, Anna, when with her, wasquiet, gentle, and silent, and if Mrs. Livingstone sometimes missedher merry laugh and playful ways, she thought the air of dignitywhich seemed to have taken their place quite an improvement, and farmore in keeping with the bride-elect of Captain Atherton. 

About this time Mr. Livingstone returned, appearing greatly surprisedat the phase which affairs had assumed in his absence, but when 'Lenawhispered to him her fears, he smilingly answered, "I reckon you'remistaken. Her mother would have found it out--where is she?"

In her chamber at the old place by the open window they found her, and though she did not as usual spring eagerly forward to meet herfather, her greeting was wholly natural; but when Mr. Livingstone, taking her upon his knee, said gently, "They tell me you are to bemarried soon, " the wildness came back to her eye, and 'Lena wonderedhe could not see it. But he did not, and smoothing her disorderedtresses, he said, "Tell me, my daughter, does this marriage pleaseyou? Do you enter into it willingly?"

For a moment there was a wavering, and 'Lena held her breath to catchthe answer, which came at last, while the eyes shone brighter thanever--"Willing? yes, or I should not do it; no one compels me, elseI would resist. "

"Woman's nature, " said Mr. Livingstone, laughingly, while 'Lenaturned away to hide her tears. 

Day after day preparations went on, for Mrs. Livingstone would havethe ceremony a grand and imposing one. In the neighborhood, the fastapproaching event was discussed, some pronouncing it a most fortunatething for Anna, who could not, of course, expect to make so eligiblea match as her more brilliant sister, while others--the sensibleportion--wondered, pitied, and blamed, attributing the whole to theambitious mother, whose agency in her son's marriage was nowgenerally known. At Maple Grove closets, chairs, tables, and sofaswere loaded down with finery, and like an automaton, Anna stood upwhile they fitted to her the rich white satin, scarcely whiter thanher own face, and Mrs. Livingstone, when she saw her daughter'sindifference, would pinch her bloodless cheeks, wondering how shecould care so little for her good fortune. 

Unnatural mother!--from the little grave on the sunny slope, nowgrass-grown and green, came there no warning voice to stay her in herpurpose? No; she scarcely thought of Mabel now, and with unflinchingdetermination she kept on her way. 

But there was one who, night and day, pondered in her mind the bestway of saving Anna from the living death to which she would surelyawake, when it was too late. At last she resolved on going herselfto Captain Atherton, telling him just how it was, and if there was aspark of generosity in his nature, she thought he would release hercousin. But this plan required much caution, for she would not haveher uncle's family know of it, and if she failed, she preferred thatit should be kept a secret from the world. There was then noalternative but to go in the night, and alone. She did not now oftensit with the family, and she knew they would not miss her. So, oneevening when they were as usual assembled in the parlor, she stolesoftly from the house, and managing to pass the negro quartersunobserved, she went down to the lower stable, where she saddled thepony she was now accustomed to ride, and leading him by a circuitouspath out upon the turnpike, mounted and rode away. 

The night was moonless, and the starlight obscured by heavy clouds, but the pale face and golden curls of Anna, for whose sake she wasthere alone, gleamed on her in the darkness, and 'Lena was notafraid. Once--twice--she thought she caught the sound of anotherhorse's hoofs, but when she stopped to listen, all was still, andagain she pressed forward, while her pursuer (for 'Lena was followed)kept at a greater distance. Durward had been to Frankfort, and onhis way home had stopped at Maple Grove to deliver a package. Stopping only a moment, he reached the turnpike just after 'Lenastruck into it. Thinking it was a servant, he was about to pass her, when her horse sheered at something on the road-side, andinvoluntarily she exclaimed, "Courage, Dido, there's nothing to fear. "

Instantly he recognized her voice, and was about to overtake andspeak to her, but thinking that her mission was a secret one, or shewould not be there alone, he desisted. Still he could not leave herthus. Her safety might be endangered, and reining in his steed, andaccommodating his pace to hers, he followed without her knowledge. On she went until she reached the avenue leading to "Sunnyside, " asCaptain Atherton termed his residence, and there she stopped, goingon foot to the house, while, hidden by the deep darkness Durwardwaited and watched. 

Half timidly 'Lena rang the door-bell, dropping her veil over herface that she might not be recognized. "I want to see your master, "she said to the woman who answered her ring, and who in someastonishment replied, "Bless you, miss, Mas'r Atherton done gone toLexington and won't be home till to-morry. "

"Gone!" repeated 'Lena in a disappointed tone. "Oh, I'm so sorry. "

"Is you the new miss what's comin' here to live?" asked the negro, who was Captain Atherton's house keeper. 

Instantly the awkwardness of her position flashed upon 'Lena, butresolving to put a bold face on the matter, she removed her veil, saying, playfully, "You know me now, Aunt Martha. "

"In course I do, " answered the negro, holding up both hands inamazement, "but what sent you here this dark, unairthly night?"

"Business with your master, " and then suddenly remembering that amongher own race Aunt Martha was accounted an intolerable gossip, shebegan to wish she had not come. 

But it could not now be helped, and turning away, she walked slowlydown the avenue, wondering what the result would be. Again they werein motion, she and Durward, who followed until he saw her safe home, and then, glad that no one had seen her but himself, he retraced hissteps, pondering on the mystery which he could not fathom. After'Lena left Sunnyside, a misty rain came on, and by the time shereached her home, her long riding-dress was wet and drizzled, thefeathers on her cap were drooping, and to crown all, as she wascrossing the hall with stealthy step, she came suddenly upon heraunt, who, surprised at her appearance, demanded of her where she hadbeen. But 'Lena refused to tell, and in quite a passion Mrs. Livingstone laid the case before her husband. 

"Lena had been off that dark, rainy night, riding somewhere withsomebody, she wouldn't tell who, but she (Mrs. Livingstone) most knewif was Durward, and something must be done. "

Accordingly, next day; when they chanced to be alone, Mr. Livingstonetook the opportunity of questioning 'Lena, who dared not disobey him, and with many tears she confessed the whole, saying that "if it werewrong she was very sorry. "

"You acted foolishly, to say the least of it, " answered her uncle, adding, dryly, that he thought she troubled herself altogether toomuch about Anna, who seemed happy and contented. 

Still he was ill at ease. 'Lena's fears disturbed him, and for manydays he watched his daughter narrowly, admitting to himself thatthere was something strange about her. But possibly all engagedgirls acted so; his wife said they did; and hating anything like ascene, he concluded to let matters take their course, half hoping, and half believing, too, that something would occur to prevent themarriage. What it would be, or by what agency it would be broughtabout, he didn't know, but he resolved to let 'Lena alone, and whenhis wife insisted upon his "lecturing her soundly for meddling, " herefused, venturing even to say, that, "she hadn't meddled. "

Meantime a new idea had entered 'Lena's mind. She would write to Mr. Everett. There might yet be some mistake; she had read of suchthings in stories, and it could do no harm. Gradually as she wrote, hope grew strong within her, and it became impressed upon her thatthere had been some deep-laid, fiendish plot. If so, she dared nottrust her letter with old Caesar, who might be bribed by hismistress. And how to convey it to the office was now the granddifficulty. As if fortune favored her plan, Durward, that veryafternoon, called at Maple Grove, being as he said, on his way toFrankfort. 

'Lena would have died rather than ask a favor of him for herself, butto save Anna she could do almost any thing. Hastily securing theletter, and throwing on her sun-bonnet, she sauntered down the lawnand out upon the turnpike, where by the gate she awaited his coming. 

"'Lena--excuse me--Miss Rivers, is it you?" asked Durward, touchinghis hat, as in evident confusion she came forward, asking if shecould trust him. 

"Trust me? Yes, with anything, " answered Durward, quicklydismounting, and forgetting everything save the bright, beautifulface which looked up to him so eagerly. 

"Then, " answered 'Lena, "take this letter and see it depositedsafely, will you?"

Glancing at the superscription, Durward felt his face crimson, whilehe instantly remembered what Mrs. Livingstone had once saidconcerning 'Lena's attachment to Mr. Everett. 

"Sometime, perhaps, I will explain, " said 'Lena, observing theexpression of his countenance, and then adding, with some bitterness, "I assure you there is no harm in it. "

"Of course not, " answered Durward, again mounting his horse, andriding away more puzzled than ever, while 'Lena returned to thehouse, which everywhere gave tokens of the approaching nuptials. 

Already had several costly bridal gifts arrived, and among them was abox from the captain, containing a set of diamonds, which Mrs. Livingstone placed in her daughter's waving hair, bidding her marktheir effect. But not a muscle of Anna's face changed; nothing movedher; and with the utmost indifference she gazed on the preparationsaround her. A stranger would have said 'Lena was the bride, for, with flushed cheeks and nervously anxious manner, she watched eachsun as it rose and set, wondering what the result would be. Once, when asked whom she would have for her bridesmaid and groomsman, Annahad answered, "Nellie and John!" but that could not be, for thelatter had imposed upon himself the penance of waiting a whole yearere he spoke to Nellie of that which lay nearest his heart, and inorder the better to keep his vow, he had gone from home, firstwinning from her the promise that she would not become engaged untilhis return. And now, when he learned of his sister's request, herefused to come, saying, "if she would make such a consummate fool ofherself, he did not wish to see her. "

So Carrie and Durward were substituted, and as this arrangementbrought the latter occasionally to the house, 'Lena had opportunitiesof asking him if there had yet come any answer to her letter; andmuch oftener than he would otherwise have done, Durward went down toFrankfort, for he felt that it was no unimportant matter which thusdeeply interested 'Lena. At last, the day before the bridal came, Durward had gone to the city, and in a state of great excitement'Lena awaited his return, watching with a trembling heart as the sunwent down behind the western hills. Slowly the hours dragged on, andmany a time she stole out in the deep darkness to listen, but therewas nothing to be heard save the distant cry of the night-owl, andshe was about retracing her steps for the fifth time, when frombehind a clump of rose-bushes started a little dusky form, whichwhispered softly, "Is you Miss 'Leny?"

Repressing the scream which came near escaping her lips, 'Lenaanswered, "Yes; what do you want?" while at the same moment sherecognized a little hunch back belonging to General Fontaine. 

"Marster Everett tell me to fotch you this, and wait for the answer, "said the boy, passing her a tiny note. 

"Master Everett! Is he here?" she exclaimed, catching the note andre-entering the house, where by the light of the hall lamp she readwhat he had written. 

It was very short, but it told all--how he had written again andagain, receiving no answer, and was about coming himself when asevere illness prevented. The marriage, he said, was that of hisuncle, for whom he was named, and who had in truth gone on toWashington, the home of his second wife. It closed by asking tier tomeet him, with Anna, on one of the arbor bridges at midnight. Hastily tearing a blank leaf from a book which chanced to be lying inthe hall, 'Lena wrote, "We will be there, " and giving it to thenegro, bade him hasten back. 

There was no longer need to wait for Durward, who, if he got noletter, was not to call, and trembling in every nerve, 'Lena soughther chamber, there to consider what she was next to do. For sometime past Carrie had occupied a separate room from Anna, who, shesaid disturbed her with her late hours and restless turnings, so'Lena's part seemed comparatively easy. Waiting until the house wasstill, she entered Anna's room, finding her, as she had expected, ather old place by the open window, her head resting upon the sill, andwhen she approached nearer, she saw that she was asleep. 

"Let her sleep yet awhile, " said she; "it will do her good. "

In the room adjoining lay the bridal dress, and 'Lena's first impulsewas to trample it under her feet, but passing it with a shudder, shehastily collected whatever she thought Anna would most need. Theseshe placed in a small-sized trunk, and then knowing it was done, sheapproached her cousin, who seemed to be dreaming, for she murmuredthe name of "Malcolm. "

"He is here, love--he has come to save you, " she whispered, whileAnna, only partially aroused, gazed at her so vacantly, that 'Lena'sheart stood still with fear lest the poor girl's reason were whollygone. "Anna, Anna, " she said, "awake; Malcolm is here--in thegarden, where you must meet him--come. "

"Malcolm is married, " said Anna, in a whisper--married--and my bridaldress is in there, all looped with flowers; would you like to see it?"

"Our Father in heaven help me, " cried 'Lena, clasping her hands inanguish, while her tears fell like rain on Anna's upturned face. 

This seemed to arouse her, for in a natural tone she asked why 'Lenawept. Again and again 'Lena repeated to her that Malcolm hadcome--that he was not married--that he had come for her; and as Annalistened, the torpor slowly passed away--the wild light in her eyesgrew less bright, for it was quenched by the first tears she had shedsince the shadow fell upon her; and when 'Lena produced the note, andshe saw it was indeed true, the ice about her heart was melted, andin choking, long-drawn sobs, her pent-up feelings gave way, as shesaw the gulf whose verge she had been treading. Crouching at 'Lena'sfeet, she kissed the very hem of her garments, blessing her as herpreserver, and praying heaven to bless her, also. It was the work ofa few moments to array her in her traveling dress, and then verycautiously 'Lena led her down the stairs, and out into the open air. 

"If I could see father once, " said Anna; but such an act involved toomuch danger, and with one lingering, tearful look at her old home, she moved away, supported by 'Lena, who rather dragged than led herover the graveled walk. 

As they approached the arbor bridge, they saw the glimmering light ofa lantern, for the night was intensely dark, and in a moment Anna wasclasped in the arms which henceforth were to shelter her from thestorms of life. Helpless as an infant she lay, while 'Lena, motioning the negro who was in attendance to follow her, returned tothe house for the trunk, which was soon safely deposited in thecarriage at the gate. 

"Words cannot express what I owe you, " said Malcolm, when he gave herhis hand at parting, "but of this be assured, so long as I live youhave in me a friend and brother. " Turning back for a moment, headded, "This flight is, I know, unnecessary, for I could preventto-morrow's expected event in other ways than this, but revenge issweet, and I trust I am excusable for taking it in my own way. "

Anna could not speak, but the look of deep gratitude which beamedfrom her eyes was far more eloquent than words. Upon the broadpiazza 'Lena stood until the last faint sound of the carriage wheelsdied away; then, weary and worn, she sought her room, locking 'Anna'sdoor as she passed it, and placing the key in her pocket. Softly shecrept to bed by the side of her slumbering grandmother, and with afervent prayer for the safety of the fugitives, fell asleep. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

THE RESULT. 

The loud ringing of the breakfast-bell aroused 'Lena from her heavyslumber, and with a vague consciousness of what had transpired thenight previous, she at first turned wearily upon her pillow, wishingit were not morning; but soon remembering all, she sprang up, andafter a hasty toilet, descended to the breakfast-room, where anotherchair was vacant, another face was missing. Without any suspicion ofthe truth, Mrs. Livingstone spoke of Anna's absence, saying shepresumed the poor girl was tired and sleepy, and this was admitted asan excuse for her tardiness. But when breakfast was over and shestill did not appear, Corinda was sent to call her, returning soonwith the information that "she'd knocked and knocked, but Miss Annawould not answer, and when she tried the door she found it locked. "

Involuntarily Mr. Livingstone glanced at 'Lena; whose face wore ascarlet hue as she hastily quitted the table. With a presentiment ofsomething, he himself started for Anna's room; followed by his wifeand Carrie, while 'Lena, half-way up the stairs, listenedbreathlessly for the result. It was useless knocking for admittance, for there was no one within to bid them enter, and with a powerfuleffort Mr. Livingstone burst the lock. The window was open, the lampwas still burning, emitting a faint, sickly odor; the bed wasundisturbed, the room in confusion, and Anna was gone. Mrs. Livingstone's eye took in all this at a glance, but her husband sawonly the latter, and ere he was aware of what he did, a fervent"Thank heaven, " escaped him. 

"She's gone--run away--dead, maybe, " exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, wringing her hands in unfeigned distress, and instinctively drawingnearer to her husband for comfort. 

By this time 'Lena had ventured into the room, and turning towardher, Mr. Livingstone said, very gently, "'Lena, where is our child?"

"In Ohio, I dare say, by this time, as she took the night train atMidway for Cincinnati, " said 'Lena, thinking she might as well tellthe whole at once. 

"In Ohio!" shrieked Mrs. Livingstone, fiercely grasping 'Lena's arm. "What has she gone to Ohio for? Speak, ingrate, for you have donethe deed--I am sure of that!"

"It was Mr. Everett's wish to return home that way I believe, " coollyanswered 'Lena, without quailing in the least from the eyes bent soangrily upon her. 

Instantly Mrs. Livingstone's fingers loosened their grasp, while herface grew livid with mingled passion and fear. Her fraud wasdiscovered--her stratagem had failed--and she was foiled in this, hersecond darling scheme. But she was yet to learn what agency 'Lenahad in the matter, and this information her husband obtained for her. There was no anger in the tones of his voice when he asked his nieceto explain the mystery, else she might not have answered, for 'Lenacould not be driven. Now, however, she felt that he had a right toknow, and she told him all she knew; what she had done herself andwhy she had done it; that General Fontaine, to whom Malcolm had gonein his trouble, had kindly assisted him by lending both servants andcarriage; but upon the intercepted letters she could throw no light. 

"'Twas a cursed act, and whoever was guilty of it is unworthy thename of either man or woman, " said Mr. Livingstone, while his eyerested sternly upon his wife. 

She knew that he suspected her, but he had no proof, and resolving tomake the best of the matter, she, too, united with him in denouncingthe deed, wondering who could have done it, and meanly suggestingMaria Fontaine, a pupil of Mr. Everett's, who had, at one time, felta slight preference for him. But this did not deceive herhusband--neither did it help her at all in the present emergency. The bride was gone, and already she felt the tide of scandal andgossip which she knew would be the theme of the entire neighborhood. Still, if her own shameful act was kept a secret she could bear it, and it must be. No one knew of it except Captain Atherton andCaesar, the former of whom would keep his own counsel, while fear ofa passport down the river, the negroes' dread, would prevent thelatter from telling. 

Accordingly, her chagrin was concealed, and affecting to treat thewhole matter as a capital joke, worthy of being immortalized inromance, she returned to her room, and hastily writing a few lines, rang the bell for Caesar who soon appeared, declaring that "as trueas he lived and breathed and drew the breath of life, he'd done ginmiss every single letter afore handin' 'em to anybody else. "

"Shut your mouth and mind you keep it shut, or you'll find yourselfin New Orleans, " was Mrs. Livingstone's very lady-like response, asshe handed him the note, bidding him take it to Captain Atherton. 

For some reason or other the captain this morning was exceedinglyrestless, walking from room to room, watching the clock, then thesun, and finally, in order to pass the time away, trying on hiswedding suit, to see how he was going to look! Perfectly satisfiedwith his appearance, he was in imagination going through theceremony, and had just inclined his head in token that he would takeAnna for his wife, when Mrs. Livingstone's note was handed him. Atfirst he could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes. 

Anna gone!--run away with Mr. Everett! It could not be, and sinkinginto a chair, he felt, as he afterwards expressed it, "mighty queerand shaky. "

But Mrs. Livingstone had advised him to put a bold face on it, andthis, upon second thought, he determined to do. Hastily changing hisdress, now useless, he mounted his steed, and was soon on his waytoward Maple Grove, a new idea dawning upon his mind, and ere hisarrival, settling itself into a fixed purpose. From Aunt Martha hehad heard of 'Lena's strange visit, and he now remembered the manytimes she had tried to withdraw him from Anna, appropriating him toherself for hours. The captain's vanity was wonderful. Sunnysideneeded a mistress--he needed a wife, 'Lena was poor--perhaps sheliked him--and if so there might be a wedding, after all. She wasbeautiful, and would sustain the honors of his house with a bettergrace, he verily believed, than Anna! Full of these thoughts, hereached Maple Grove, where he found Durward, to whom Mrs. Livingstonehad detailed the whole circumstance, dwelling long upon 'Lena'smeddling propensities, and charging the whole affair upon her. 

"But she knew what she was about--she had an object in view, undoubtedly, " she added, glad of an opportunity to give vent to herfeelings against 'Lena. 

"Pray, what was her object?" asked Durward, and Mrs. Livingstonereplied, "I told you once that 'Lena was ambitious, and I have everyreason to believe she would willingly marry Captain Atherton, notwithstanding he is so much older. "

She forgot that there was the same disparity between the captain andAnna as between him and 'Lena, but Durward did not, and with aderisive smile he listened, while she proceeded to give her reasonsfor thinking that a desire to supplant Anna was the sole object which'Lena had in view, for what else could have prompted that midnightride to Sunnyside. Again Durward smiled, but before he could answer, the bride-groom elect stood before them, looking rather crestfallen, but evidently making a great effort to appear as usual. 

"And so the bird has flown?" said he, "Well, it takes a Yankee, afterall, to manage a case, but how did he find it out?"

Briefly Mrs. Livingstone explained to him Lena's agency in thematter, omitting, this time, to impute to her the same motive whichshe had done when stating the case to Durward. 

"So 'Lena is at the bottom of it?" said he, rubbing his little fat, red hands. "Well, well, where is she? I'd like to see her. "

"Corinda, tell 'Lena she is wanted in the parlor, " said Mrs. Livingstone, while Durward, not wishing to witness the interview, arose to go, but Mrs. Livingstone urged him so hard to stay, that heat last resumed his seat on the sofa by the side of Carrie. 

"Captain Atherton wishes to question you concerning the part you havetaken in this elopement, " said Mrs. Livingstone, sternly, as 'Lenaappeared in the doorway. 

"No, I don't, " said the captain, gallantly offering 'Lena a chair. "My business with Miss Rivers concerns herself. "

"I am here, sir, to answer any proper question, " said 'Lena, proudly, at the same time declining the proffered seat. 

"There's an air worthy of a queen, " thought the captain, anddetermining to make his business known at once, he arose, and turningtoward Mrs. Livingstone, Durward and Carrie, whom he considered hisaudience, he commenced: "What I am about to say may seem strange, butthe fact is, I want a wife. I've lived alone long enough. I waitedfor Anna eighteen years, and now's she gone. Everything is inreadiness for the bridal; the guests are invited; nothing wanting butthe bride. Now if I _could_ find a substitute. "

"Not in me, " muttered Carrie, drawing nearer to Durward, while with asarcastic leer the captain continued: "Don't refuse before you areasked, Miss Livingstone. I do not aspire to the honor of your hand, but I do ask Miss Rivers to be my wife--here before you all. Sheshall live like a princess--she and her grandmother both. Come, whatdo you say? Many a poor girl would jump at the chance. "

The rich blood which usually dyed 'Lena's cheek was gone, and pale asthe marble mantel against which she leaned, she answered, proudly, "Iwould sooner die than link my destiny with one who could so baselydeceive my cousin, making her believe it was her betrothed husbandwhom he saw in Washington instead of his uncle! Marry you? Never, if I beg my bread from door to door!"

"Noble girl!" came involuntarily from the lips of Durward, who hadheld his breath for her answer, and who now glanced triumphantly atMrs. Livingstone, whose surmises were thus proved incorrect. 

The captain's self-pride was touched, that a poor, humble girl shouldrefuse him with his half million. A sense of the ridiculous positionin which he was placed maddened him, and in a violent rage hereplied, "You won't, hey? What under heavens have you hung around meso for, sticking yourself in between me and Anna when you knew youwere not wanted?"

"I did it, sir, at Anna's request, to relieve her--and for nothingelse. "

"And was it at her request that you went alone to Sunnyside on thatdark, rainy night?" chimed in Mrs. Livingstone. 

"No, madam, " said 'Lena, turning toward her aunt. "I had in vainimplored of you to save her from a marriage every way irksome to her, when in her right mind, but you would not listen, and I resolved toappeal to the captain's better nature. In this I failed, and then Iwrote to Mr. Everett, with the result which you see. "

In her first excitement Mrs. Livingstone had forgotten to ask who wasthe bearer of 'Lena's letter, but remembering it now, she put thequestion. 'Lena would not implicate Durward without his permission, but while she hesitated, he answered for her, "_I_ carried thatletter, Mrs. Livingstone, though I did not then know its nature. Still if I had, I should have done the same, and the event has provedthat I was right in so doing. "

"Ah, indeed!" said the captain growing more and more nettled anddisagreeable. "Ah, indeed! Mr. Bellmont leagued with Miss Riversagainst me. Perhaps she would not so bluntly refuse an offer comingfrom you, but I can tell you it won't sound very well that the Hon. Mrs. Bellmont once rode four miles alone in the night to visit abachelor. Ha! ha! Miss 'Lena; better have submitted to my terms atonce, for don't you see I have you in my power?"

"And if you ever use that power to her disadvantage you answer for itto me; do you understand?" exclaimed Durward, starting up andconfronting Captain Atherton, who, the veriest coward in the world, shrank from the flashing of Durward's eye, and meekly answered, "Yes, yes--yes, yes, I won't, I won't. I don't want to fight. I like'Lena. I don't blame Anna for running away if she didn't wantme--but it's left me in a deuced mean scrape, which I wish you'd helpme out of. "

Durward saw that the captain was in earnest, and taking his profferedhand, promised to render him any assistance in his power, andadvising him to be present himself in the evening, as the firstmeeting with his acquaintances would thus be over. Upon reflection, the captain concluded to follow this advice, and when evening arrivedand with it those who had not heard the news, he was in attendance, together with Durward, who managed the whole affair so skillfullythat the party passed off quite pleasantly, the disappointed guestsplayfully condoling with the deserted bridegroom, who received theirjokes with a good grace, wishing himself, meantime, anywhere butthere. 

That night, when the company were gone and all around was silent, Mrs. Livingstone watered her pillow with the first tears she had shedfor her youngest born, whom she well knew _she_ had driven from home, and when her husband asked what they should do, she answered with afresh burst of tears, "Send for Anna to come back. "

"And Malcolm, too?" queried Mr. Livingstone, knowing it was uselessto send for one without the other. 

"Yes, Malcolm too. There's room for both, " said the weeping mother, feeling how every hour she should miss the little girl, whosepresence had in it so much of sunlight and joy. 

But Anna would not return. Away to the northward, in a fairy cottageoverhung with the wreathing honeysuckle and the twining grape-vine, where the first summer flowers were blooming and the song-birds werecaroling all the day long, her home was henceforth to be, and thoughthe letter which contained her answer to her father's earnest appealwas stained and blotted, it told of perfect happiness with Malcolm, who kissed away her tears as she wrote, "Tell mother I cannot come. "

CHAPTER XXXI. 

MORE CLOUDS. 

Since the morning when Durward had so boldly avowed himself 'Lena'schampion, her health and spirits began to improve. That she was notwholly indifferent to him she had every reason to believe, andnotwithstanding the strong barrier between them, hope sometimeswhispered to her of a future, when all that was now so dark andmysterious should be made plain. But while she was thus securelydreaming, a cloud, darker and deeper than any which had yetovershadowed her, was gathering around her pathway. Gradually hadthe story of her ride to Captain Atherton's gained circulation, magnifying itself as it went, until at last it was currently reportedthat at several different times had she been seen riding away fromSunnyside at unseasonable hours of the night, the time varying fromnine in the evening to three in the morning according to theexaggerating powers of the informer. 

But few believed it, and yet such is human nature, that each andevery one repeated it to his or her neighbor, until at last itreached Mrs. Graham, who, forgetting the caution of her son, said, with a very wise look, that "she was not at all surprised--she hadfrom the first suspected 'Lena, and she had the best of reasons forso doing!"

Of course Mrs. Graham's friend was exceedingly anxious to know whatshe meant, and by dint of quizzing, questioning and promising neverto tell, she at last drew out just enough of the story to know thatMr. Graham had a daguerreotype which looked just like 'Lena, and thatMrs. Graham had no doubt whatever that she was in the habit ofwriting to him. This of course was repeated, notwithstanding thepromise of secrecy, and many of the neighbors suddenly rememberedsome little circumstance trivial in itself, but all going to swellthe amount of evidence against poor 'Lena, who, unconscious of thegathering storm, did not for a time observe the sidelong glances casttoward her whenever she appeared in public. 

Erelong, however, the cool nods and distant manners of heracquaintances began to attract her attention, causing her to wonderwhat it all meant. But there was no one of whom she would ask anexplanation. John Jr. Was gone--Anna was gone--and to crown all, Durward, too, left the neighborhood just as the first breath ofscandal was beginning to set the waves of gossip in motion. In hisabsence, Mrs. Graham felt no restraint, whatever, and all that sheknew, together with many things she didn't know, she told, until itbecame a matter of serious debate whether 'Lena ought not to be _cut_entirely. Mrs. Graham and her clique decided in the affirmative, andwhen Mrs. Fontaine, who was a weak woman, wholly governed by publicopinion, gave a small party for her daughter Maria, 'Lena waspurposely omitted. Hitherto she had been greatly petted and admiredby both Maria and her mother, and she felt the slight sensibly, themore so, as Carrie darkly hinted that girls who could not behavethemselves must not associate with respectable people. "'Leny notinvited!" said Mrs. Nichols, espousing the cause of hergranddaughter. "What's to pay, I wonder? Miss Fontaine and thegineral, too, allus appeared to think a sight on her. "

"I presume the _general_ does now, " answered Mrs. Livingstone, "butit's natural that Mrs. Fontaine should feel particular about thereputation of her daughter's associates. "

"And ain't 'Leny's reputation as good as the best on 'em, " asked Mrs. Nichols, her shriveled cheeks glowing with insulted pride. 

"It's the general opinion that it might be improved, " was Mrs. Livingstone's haughty answer, as she left her mother-in-law to herown reflections. 

"It'll kill her stone dead, " thought Mrs. Nichols, revolving in herown mind the propriety of telling 'Lena what her aunt had said. "It'll kill her stone dead, and I can't tell her. Mebby it'll blowover pretty soon. "

That afternoon several ladies, who were in the habit of calling upon'Lena, came to Maple Grove, but not one asked for her, and with hereyes and ears now sharpened, she fancied that once, as she waspassing the parlor door, she heard her own name coupled with that ofMr. Graham. A startling light burst upon her, and staggering to herroom, she threw herself, half fainting, upon the bed, where an hourafterwards she was found by Aunt Milly. 

The old negress had also heard the story in its most aggravated form, and readily divining the cause of 'Lena's grief, attempted to consoleher, telling her "not to mind what the good-for-nothin' critterssaid; they war only mad 'cause she's so much handsomer and trimmerbuilt. "

"You know, then, " said 'Lena, lifting her head from the pillow. "Youknow what it is; so tell me, for I shall die if I remain longer insuspense. "

"Lor' bless the child, " exclaimed old Milly, "to think she's the verylast one to know, when it's been common talk more than a month!"

"What's been common talk? What is it?" demanded 'Lena; and oldMilly, seating herself upon a trunk, commenced: "Why, honey, hain'tyou hearn how you done got Mr. Graham's pictur and gin him yourn'long of one of them curls--how he's writ and you've writ, and howhe's gone off to the eends of the airth to get rid on you--and howyou try to cotch young Mas'r Durward, who hate the sight on you--howyou waylay him one day, settin' on a rock out by the big gate--andhow you been seen mighty nigh fifty times comin' home afoot fromCaptain Atherton's in the night, rainin' thunder and lightnin' hardas it could pour--how after you done got Miss Anna to 'lope, you axCaptain Atherton to have you, and git mad as fury 'cause he'fuses--and how your mother warn't none too likely, and a heap morethat I can't remember--hain't you heard of none on't?"

"None, none, " answered 'Lena, while Milly continued, "It's a sin andshame for quality folks that belong to the meetin' to pitch into apoor 'fenseless girl and pick her all to pieces. Reckon they doneforgot what our Heabenly Marster told 'em when he lived here in oldKentuck, how they must dig the truck out of thar own eyes afore theygo to meddlin' with others; but they never think of him these days, 'cept Sundays, and then as soon as meetin' is out they done gittogether and talk about you and Mas'r Graham orfully. I hearn 'emlast Sunday, I and Miss Fontaine's cook, Cilly, and if they don'tquit it, thar's a heap on us goin' to leave the church!"

'Lena smiled in spite of herself, and when Milly, who arose to leavethe room, again told her not to care, as all the blacks were for her, she felt that she was not utterly alone in her wretchedness. Still, the sympathy of the colored people alone could not help her, anddally matters grew worse, until at last even Nellie Douglass's faithwas shaken, and 'Lena's heart died within her as she saw in her signsof neglect. Never had Mr. Livingstone exchanged a word with her uponthe subject, but the reserve with which he treated her plainlyindicated that he, too, was prejudiced, while her aunt and Carrie letno opportunity pass of slighting her, the latter invariably leavingthe room if she entered it. On one such occasion, in a statebordering almost on distraction 'Lena flew back to her own chamber, where to her great surprise, she found her uncle in closeconversation with her grandmother, whose face told the pain his wordswere inflicting. 'Lena's first impulse was to fall at his feet andimplore his protection, but he prevented her by immediately leavingthe room. 

"Oh, grandmother, grandmother, " she cried, "help me, or I shall die. "

In her heart Mrs. Nichols believed her guilty, for John had saidso--he would not lie; and to 'Lena's touching appeal for sympathy, she replied, as she rocked to and fro, "I wish you _had_ died, 'Leny, years and years ago. "

'Twas the last drop in the brimming bucket, and with the wailing cry, "God help me now--no one else can, " the heart-broken girl fellfainting to the floor, while in silent agony Mrs. Nichols hung overher, shouting for help. 

Both Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie refused to come, but at the firstcall Aunt Milly hastened to the room. "Poor sheared lamb, " said she, gathering back the thick, clustering curls which shaded 'Lena'smarble face, "she's innocent as the new-born baby. "

"Oh, if I could think so, " said grandma; but she could not, and whenthe soft brown eyes again unclosed, and eagerly sought hers, theyread distrust and doubt, and motioning her grandmother away, 'Lenasaid she would rather be alone. 

Many and bitter were the thoughts which crowded upon her as she laythere watching the daylight fade from the distant hills, and musingof the stern realities around her. Gradually her thoughts assumed adefinite purpose; she would go away from a place where she was neverwanted, and where she now no longer wished to stay. Mr. Everett hadpromised to be her friend, and to him she would go. At differentintervals her uncle and cousin had given her money to the amount oftwenty dollars, which was still in her possession, and which she knewwould take her far on her road. 

With 'Lena to resolve was to do, and that night, when sure hergrandmother was asleep, she arose and hurriedly made the needfulpreparations for her flight. Unlike most aged people, Mrs. Nicholsslept soundly, and 'Lena had no fears of waking her. Very stealthilyshe moved around the room, placing in a satchel, which she couldcarry upon her arm, the few things she would need. Then, sittingdown by the table, she wrote:

"DEAR GRANDMA: When you read this I shall be gone, for I cannotlonger stay where all look upon me as a wretched, guilty thing. I aminnocent, grandma, as innocent as my angel mother when they dared toslander her, but you do not believe it, and that is the hardest ofall. I could have borne the rest, but when you, too, doubted me, itbroke my heart, and now I am going away. Nobody will care--nobodywill miss me but you. 

"And now dear, dear grandma, it costs me more pain to write than itwill you to read

 "'LENA'S LAST GOOD-BYE"

All was at length ready, and then bending gently over the wrinkledface so calmly sleeping, 'Lena gazed through blinding tears upon eachlineament, striving to imprint it upon her heart's memory, andwondering if they would ever meet again. The hand which had so oftenrested caressingly upon her young head, was lying outside thecounterpane, and with one burning kiss upon it she turned away, firstplacing the lamp by the window, where its light, shining upon herfrom afar, would be the last thing she could see of the home she wasleaving. 

The road to Midway, the nearest railway station, was well known toher, and without once pausing, lest her courage should fail her, shepressed forward. The distance which she had to travel was aboutthree and a half miles, and as she did not dare trust herself in thehighway, she struck into the fields, looking back as long as theglimmering light from the window could be seen, and then when thathome star had disappeared from view, silently imploring aid from Himwho alone could help her now. She was in time for the cars, and, though the depot agent looked curiously at her slight, shrinkingfigure, he asked no questions, and when the train moved rapidly away, 'Lena looked out upon the dark, still night, and felt that she was awanderer in the world. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

REACTION. 

The light of a dark, cloudy morning shone faintly in at the window ofGrandma Nichols's room, and roused her from her slumber. On thepillow beside her rested no youthful head--there was no kind voicebidding her "good-morrow"--no gentle hand ministering to hercomfort--for 'Lena was gone, and on the table lay the note, which atfirst escaped Mrs. Nichols's attention. Thinking her granddaughterhad arisen early and gone before her, she attempted to make her owntoilet, which was nearly completed, when her eye caught the note. Itwas directed to her, and with a dim foreboding she: took it up, reading that her child was gone--gone from those who should havesustained her in her hour of trial, but who, instead, turned againsther, crushing her down, until in a state of desperation she had fled. It was in vain that the breakfast-bell rang out its loud summons. Grandma did not heed it; and when Corinda came up to seek her, shestarted back in affright at the scene before her. Mrs. Nichols's capwas not yet on, and her thin gray locks fell around her livid face asshe swayed from side to side, moaning at intervals, "God forgive methat I broke her heart. "

The sound of the opening door aroused her, and looking up she said, pointing toward the vacant bed, "'Leny's gone; I've killed her. "

Corinda waited for no more, but darting through the hall and down thestairs, she rushed into the dining-room, announcing the startlingnews that "old miss had done murdered Miss 'Lena, and hid her underthe bed!"

"What _will_ come next!" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, following herhusband to his mother's room where a moment sufficed to explain thewhole. 

'Lena was gone, and the shock had for a time unsettled the poor oldlady's reason. The sight of his mother's distress aroused all thebetter nature of Mr. Livingstone, and tenderly soothing her, he toldher that 'Lena should be found--he would go for her himself. Carrie, too, was touched, and with unwonted kindness she gathered up thescattered locks, and tying on the muslin cap, placed her hand for aninstant on the wrinkled brow. 

"Keep it there; it feels soft, like 'Leny's, " said Mrs. Nichols, thetears gushing out at this little act of sympathy. 

Meantime, Mr. Livingstone, after a short consultation with his wife, hurried off to the neighbors, none of whom knew aught of thefugitive, and all of whom offered their assistance in searching. Never once did it occur to Mr. Livingstone that she might have takenthe cars, for that he knew would need money, and he supposed she hadnone in her possession. By a strange coincidence, too, the depotagent who sold her the ticket, left the very next morning forIndiana, where he had been intending to go for some time, and wherehe remained for more than a week, thus preventing the informationwhich he could otherwise have given concerning her flight. Consequently, Mr. Livingstone returned each night, weary anddisheartened, to his home, where all the day long his mother moanedand wept, asking for her 'Lena. 

At last, as day after day went by and brought no tidings of thewanderer, she ceased to ask for her, but whenever a stranger came tothe house, she would whisper softly to them, "'Leny's dead. I killedher; did you know it?" at the same time passing to them the crumplednote, which she ever held in her hand. 

'Lena was a general favorite in the neighborhood which had sorecently denounced her, and when it became known that she was gone, there came a reaction, and those who had been the most bitter againsther now changed their opinion, wondering how they could ever havethought her guilty. The stories concerning her visits to CaptainAtherton's were traced back to their source, resulting in exoneratingher from all blame, while many things, hitherto kept secret, concerning Anna's engagement, were brought to light, and 'Lena wasuniversally commended for her efforts to save her cousin from amarriage so wholly unnatural. Severely was the captain censured forthe part he had taken in deceiving Anna, a part which he franklyconfessed, while he openly espoused the cause of the fugitive. 

Mrs. Livingstone, on the contrary, was not generous enough to make alike confession. Public suspicion pointed to her as the interceptorof Anna's letters, and though she did not deny it, she wondered whatthat had to do with 'Lena, at the same time asking "how they expectedto clear up the Graham affair. "

This was comparatively easy, for in the present state of feeling theneighborhood were willing to overlook many things which had beforeseemed dark and mysterious, while Mrs. Graham, for some mostunaccountable reason, suddenly retracted almost everything she hadsaid, acknowledging that she was too hasty in her conclusions, andevincing for the missing girl a degree of interest perfectlysurprising to Mrs. Livingstone, who looked on in utter astonishment, wondering what the end would be. About this time Durward returned, greatly pained at the existing state of things. In Frankfort, where'Lena's flight was a topic of discussion, he had met with the depotagent, who was on his way home, and who spoke of the young girl whoserather singular manner had attracted his attention. This wasundoubtedly 'Lena, and after a few moments' conversation with hismother, Durward announced his intention of going after her, at leastas far as Rockford, where he fancied she might have gone. 

To his surprise his mother made no objection, but her manner seemedso strange that he at last asked what was the matter. 

"Nothing--nothing in particular, " said she, "only I've been thinkingit all over lately, and I've come to the conclusion that perhaps'Lena is innocent after all. "

Oh, how eagerly Durward caught at her words, interrupting her almostbefore she had finished speaking, with, "_Do_ you know anything?Have you heard anything?"

She _had_ heard--she _did_ know; but ere she could reply, the violentringing of the door-bell, and the arrival of visitors, prevented heranswer. In a perfect fever of excitement Durward glanced at hiswatch. If he waited long, he would be too late for the cars, andwith a hasty adieu he left the parlor, turning back ere he reachedthe outer door, and telling his mother he must speak with her alone. If Mrs. Graham had at first intended to divulge what she knew, theimpulse was now gone, and to her son's urgent request that she shoulddisclose what she knew, she replied, "It isn't much--only your fatherhas another daguerreotype, the counterpart of the first one. Heprocured it in Cincinnati, and 'Lena I know was not there. "

"Is that all?" asked Durward, in a disappointed tone. 

"Why no, not exactly. I have examined both pictures closely, and Ido not think they resemble 'Lena as much as we at first supposed. Possibly it might have been some one else, her mother, may be, " andMrs. Graham looked earnestly at her son, who rather impatientlyanswered, "Her mother died years ago. "

At the same time he walked away, pondering upon what he had heard, and hoping, half believing, that 'Lena would yet be exonerated fromall blame. For a moment Mrs. Graham gazed after him, regretting thatshe had not told him all, but thinking there was time enough yet, andremembering that her husband had said she might wait until hisreturn, if she chose, she went back to the parlor while Durward kepton his way. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE WANDERER. 

Fiercely the noontide blaze of a scorching July sun was falling uponthe huge walls of the "Laurel Hill Sun, " where a group of idlers werelounging on the long, narrow piazza, some niching into still moregrotesque carving the rude, unpainted railing, while others, halfreclining on one elbow, shaded their eyes with their old slouch hats, as they gazed wistfully toward the long hill, eager to catch the firstsight of the daily stage which was momentarily expected. 

"Jerry is late, to-day--but it's so plaguy hot he's favorin' hishosses, I guess, " said the rosy-faced landlord, with that peculiarintonation which stamped him at once a genuine Yankee. 

"A watched pot never biles, " muttered one of the loungers, whoregularly for fifteen years had been at his post, waiting for thestage, which during all that time had brought him neither letter, message, friend, nor foe. 

But force of habit is everything, and after the very wise sayingrecorded above, he resumed his whittling, never again looking up untilthe loud blast of the driver's horn was heard on the distant hill-top, where the four weary, jaded horses were now visible. It was thedriver's usual custom to blow his horn from the moment he appeared onthe hill, until with a grand flourish he reined his panting steedsbefore the door of the inn. But this time there was one sharp, shrillsound, and then all was still, the omission eliciting several remarksnot very complimentary to the weather, which was probably the cause of"Jerry's" unwonted silence. Very slowly the vehicle came on, thehorses never leaving a walk, and the idler of fifteen years' standing, who for a time had suspended his whittling, "wondered what was to pay. "

A nearer approach revealed three or four male passengers, all occupiedwith a young lady, who, on the back seat, was carefully supported byone of her companions. 

"A sick gal, I guess. Wonder if the disease is catchin'?" said thewhittler, standing back several paces and looking over the heads of theothers, who crowded forward as the stage came up. The loud greeting ofthe noisy group was answered by Jerry with a low "sh--sh, " as hepointed significantly at the slight form which two of the gentlemenwere lifting from the coach, asking at the same time if there were aphysician near. 

"What's the matter on her? Hain't got the cholery, has she, " said thelandlord, who, having hallooed to his wife to "fetch up her vittles, "now appeared on the piazza ready to welcome his guests. 

At the first mention of cholera, the fifteen years' man vamosed, retreating across the road, and seating himself on the fence under theshadow of the locust trees. 

"Who is she, Jerry?" asked the younger of the set, gazing curiouslyupon the white, beautiful face of the stranger, who had been laid uponthe lounge in the common sitting-room. 

"Lord only knows, " said Jerry, wiping the heavy drops of sweat from hisgood-humored face; "I found her at the hotel in Livony. She came therein the cars, and said she wanted to go over to 'tother railroad. Shewas so weak that I had to lift her into the stage as I would a baby, and she ain't much heavier. You orto seen how sweet she smiled whenshe thanked me, and asked me not to drive very fast, it made her headache so. Zounds, I wouldn't of trotted the horses if I'd never gothere. Jest after we started she fainted, and she's been kinder talkin'strange like ever since. Some of the gentlemen thought I'd betterleave her back a piece at Brown's tavern, but I wanted to fetch herhere, where Aunt Betsy could nuss her up, and then I can kinder tend toher myself, you know. "

This last remark called forth no answering joke, for Jerry's companionsall knew his kindly nature, and it was no wonder to them that hissympathies were so strongly enlisted for the fair girl thus thrown uponhis protection. It was a big, noble heart over which Jerry Langleybuttoned his driver's coat, and when the physician who had arrivedpronounced the lady too ill to proceed any further, he called aside thefidgety landlord, whose peculiarities he well knew, and bade him "notto fret and stew, for if the gal hadn't money, Jerry Langley was goodfor a longer time than she would live, poor critter;" and he wiped atear away, glancing, the while, at the burying-ground which lay justacross the garden, and thinking how if she died, her grave should bebeneath the wide-spreading oak, where often in the summer nights hesat, counting the head-stones which marked the last resting place ofthe slumbering host, and wondering if death were, as some had said, along, eternal sleep. 

Aunt Betsey, of whom he had spoken, was the landlady, a little dumpy, pleasant-faced, active woman, equally in her element bending over thesteaming gridiron, or smoothing the pillows of the sick-bed, where herpowers of nursing had won golden laurels from Others than JerryLangley. When the news was brought to the kitchen that among thepassengers was a sick girl, who was to be left, her first thought, natural to everybody, was, "What shall I do ?" while the second, natural to her, was, "Take care of her, of course. "

Accordingly, when the dinner was upon the table, she laid aside herbroad check apron, substituting in its place a half-worn silk, forJerry had reported the invalid to be "every inch a lady;" thensmoothing her soft, silvery hair with her fat, rosy hands, she repairedto the sitting-room, where she found the driver watching his charge, from whom he kept the buzzing flies by means of his bandana, which hewaved to and fro with untiring patience. 

"Handsome as a London doll, " was her first exclamation, adding, "but Ishould think she'd be awful hot with them curls, dangling' in her neck!If she's goin' to be sick they'd better be cut off!"

If there was any one thing for which Aunt Betsey Aldergrass possessed aparticular passion, it was for _hair-cutting_, she being barber generalfor Laurel Hill, which numbered about thirty houses, store and churchinclusive, and now when she saw the shining tresses which lay in suchprofusion upon the pillow, her fingers tingled to their very tips, while she involuntarily felt for her scissors! Very reverentially, asif it were almost sacrilege, Jerry's broad palm was laid protectinglyupon the clustering ringlets, while he said, "No, Aunt Betsey, if shedies for't, you shan't touch one of them; 'twould spile her hair, shelooks so pretty. "

Slowly the long, fringed lids unclosed, and the brown eyes looked up sogratefully at Jerry, that he beat a precipitate retreat, muttering tohimself that "he never could stand the gals, anyway, they made hisheart thump so!"

"Am I very sick, and can't I go on?" asked the young lady, attemptingto rise, but sinking back from extreme weakness. 

"Considerable sick, I guess, " answered the landlady, taking from a sidecupboard an immense decanter of camphor, and passing it toward thestranger. "Considerable sick, and I wouldn't wonder if you had to layby a day or so. Will they be consarned about you to home, 'cause ifthey be, my old man'll write. "

"I have no home, " was the sad answer, to which Aunt Betsey responded inastonishment, "Hain't no home! Where does your marm live?"

"Mother is dead, " said the girl, her tears dropping fast upon thepillow. 

Instinctively the landlady drew nearer to her, as she asked, "And yourpa--where is he?"

"I never saw him, " said the girl, while her interrogator continued:"Never saw your pa, and your marm is dead--poor child, what is yourname, and where did you come from?"

For a moment the stranger hesitated, and then thinking it better totell the truth at once, she replied, "My name is 'Lena. I lived withmy uncle a great many miles from here, but I wasn't happy. They didnot want me there, and I ran away. I am going to my cousin, but I'drather not tell where, so you will please not ask me. "

There was something in her manner which silenced Aunt Betsey, who, erelong, proposed that she should go upstairs and lie down on a nicelittle bed, where she would be more quiet. But 'Lena refused, sayingshe should feel better soon. 

"Mebby, then, you'd eat a mouffle or two. We've got some roasted pork, and Hetty'll warm over the gravy;" but 'Lena's stomach rebelled at thevery thought, seeing which, the landlady went back to the kitchen, where she soon prepared a bowl of gruel, in spite of the discouragingremarks of her husband, who, being a little after the _Old Hunks_order, cautioned her "not to fuss too much, as gals that run awaywarn't apt to be plagued with money"

Fortunately, Aunt Betsey's heart covered a broader sphere, and themoment the stage was gone she closed the door to shut out the dust, dropped the green curtains, and drawing from the spare-room a large, stuffed chair, bade 'Lena "see if she couldn't set up a minit. " Butthis was impossible, and all that long, sultry afternoon she lay uponthe lounge, holding her aching head, which seemed well-nigh burstingwith its weight of pain and thought. "Was it right for her to runaway? Ought she not to have stayed and bravely met the worst? Supposeshe were to die there alone, among strangers and without money, for herscanty purse was well-nigh drained. " These and similar reflectionscrowded upon her, until her brain grew wild and dizzy, and when atsunset the physician came again he was surprised to find how much herfever had increased. 

"She ought not to lie here, " said he, as he saw how the loud shouts ofthe school-boys made her shudder. "Isn't there some place where shecan be more quiet?"

At the head of the stairs was a small room, containing a single bed anda window, which last looked out upon the garden and the graveyardbeyond. Its furniture was of the plainest kind, it being reserved formore common travelers, and here the landlord said 'Lena must be taken. His wife would far rather have given her the front chamber, which waslarge, airy and light, but Uncle Tim Aldergrass said "No, " squealingout through his little peaked nose that "'twarn't an atom likely he'dever more'n half git his pay, anyway, and he warn't a goin' to give upthe hull house. "

"How much more will it be if she has the best chamber, " asked Jerry, pulling at Uncle Tim's coattail and leading him aside. "How much willit be, 'cause if 'taint too much, she shan't stay in that eight by ninepen. "

"A dollar a week, and cheap at that, " muttered Uncle Tim, while Jerry, going out behind the wood-house, counted over his funds, sighing as hefound them quite too small to meet the extra, dollar per week, shouldshe long continue ill. 

"If I hadn't of fooled so much away for tobacker and things, Ishouldn't be so plaguy poor now, " thought he, forgetting the manyhearts which his hard-earned gains had made glad, for no one everappealed in vain for help from Jerry Langley, who represented one classof Yankees, while Timothy Aldergrass represented another. 

The next morning just as daylight was beginning to be visible, Jerryknocked softly at Aunt Betsey's door, telling her that for more than anhour he'd heard the young lady takin' on, and he guessed she was worse. Hastily throwing on her loose gown Aunt Betsey repaired to 'Lena'sroom, where she found her sitting up in the bed, moaning, talking, andwhispering, while the wild expression of her eyes betokened adisordered brain. 

"The Lord help us! she's crazy as a loon. Run for the doctor, quick!"exclaimed Mrs. Aldergrass, and without boot or shoe, Jerry ran off inhis stocking-feet, alarming the physician, who immediately hastened tothe inn, pronouncing 'Lena's disease to be brain fever, as he had atfirst feared. 

Rapidly she grew worse, talking of her home, which was sometimes inKentucky and sometimes in Massachusetts, where she said they had buriedher mother. At other times she would ask Aunt Betsey to send forDurward when she was dead, and tell him how innocent she was. 

"Didn't I tell you there was something wrong?" Uncle Timothy wouldsqueak. "Nobody knows who we are harborin' nor how much 'twill damagethe house. "

But as day after day went by, and 'Lena's fever raged more fiercely, even Uncle Tim relented, and when she would beg of them to take herhome and bury her by the side of Mabel, where Durward could see hergrave, he would sigh, "Poor critter, I wish you was to home, " butwhether this wish was prompted by a sincere desire to please 'Lena, orfrom a more selfish motive, we are unable to state. One morning, thefifth of 'Lena's illness, she seemed much worse, talking incessantlyand tossing from side to side, her long hair floating in wild disorderover her pillow, or streaming down her shoulders. Hitherto Aunt Betseyhad restrained her _barberic_ desire, each day arranging the heavylocks, and tucking them under the muslin cap, where they refused tostay. Once the doctor himself had suggested the propriety of cuttingthem away, adding, though, that they would wait awhile, as it was apity to lose them. 

"Better be cut off than yanked off, " said Aunt Betsey, on the morningwhen 'Lena in her frenzy would occasionally tear out handfulls of hershining hair and scatter it over the floor. 

Satisfied that she was doing right, she carefully approached thebedside, and taking one of the curls in her hand, was about to severit, when 'Lena, divining her intentions, sprang up, and gathering upher hair, exclaimed, "No, no, not these; take everything else, butleave me my curls. Durward thought they were beautiful, and I cannotlose them. "

At the side door below, the noonday stage was unloading its passengers, and as the tones of their voices came in at the open window, 'Lenasuddenly grew calmer, and assuming a listening attitude, whispered, "Hark! He's come. Don't you hear him?"

But Aunt Betsey heard nothing, except her husband calling her to comedown, and leaving 'Lena, who had almost instantly become quiet, to thecare of a neighbor, she started for the kitchen, meeting in the lowerhall with Hetty, who was showing one of the passengers to a room wherehe could wash and refresh himself after his dusty ride. As they passedeach other, Hetty asked, "Have you clipped her curls?"

"No, " answered Mrs. Aldergrass, "she wouldn't let me touch 'em, for shesaid that Durward, whom she talks so much about, liked 'em, and theymustn't be cut off. "

Instantly the stranger, whose elegant appearance both Hetty and hermistress had been admiring, stopped, and turning to the latter, said, "Of whom are you speaking?"

"Of a young girl that came in the stage, sick, five or six days ago, "answered Mrs. Aldergrass. 

"What is her name, and where does she live?" continued the stranger. 

"She calls herself 'Lena, but the 'tother name I don't know, and Iguess she lives in Kentucky or Massachusetts. "

The young man waited to hear no more, but mechanically followed Hettyto his room, starting and turning pale as a wild, unnatural laugh fellon his ear. 

"It is the young lady, sir, " said Hetty, observing his agitated manner. "She raves most all the time, and the doctor says she'll die if shedon't stop. "

The gentleman nodded, and the next moment he was as he wished to be, alone. He had found her then--his lost 'Lena--sick, perhaps dying, andhis heart gave one agonized throb as he thought, "What if she shoulddie? Yet why should I wish her to live?" he asked, "when she is assurely lost to me as if she were indeed resting in her grave!"

And still, reason as he would, a something told him that all would yetbe well, else, perhaps, he had never followed her. Believing she wouldstop at Mr. Everett's, he had come on thus far, finding her where heleast expected it, and spite of his fears, there was much of pleasuremingled with his pain as he thought how he would protect and care forher, ministering to her comfort, and softening, as far as possible, thedisagreeable things which he saw must necessarily surround her. Money, he knew, would purchase almost everything, and if ever Durward Bellmontfelt glad that he was rich, it was when he found 'Lena Rivers sick andalone at the not very comfortable inn of Laurel Hill. 

As he was entering the dining-room, he saw Jerry--whose long, lankfigure and original manner had afforded him much amusement during hisride--handing a dozen or more oranges to Mrs. Aldergrass, saying, as hedid so, "They are for Miss 'Lena. I thought mebby they'd taste good, this hot weather, and I ransacked the hull town to find the nicest andbest. "

For a moment Durward's cheek flushed at the idea of Lena's being caredfor by such as Jerry, but the next instant his heart grew warm towardthe uncouth driver who, without any possible motive save the promptingsof his own kindly nature, had thus thought of the stranger girl. Erelong the stage was announced as ready and waiting, but to thesurprise and regret of his fellow-passengers, who had found him a mostagreeable traveling companion, Durward said he was not going anyfurther that day. 

"A new streak, ain't it?" asked Jerry, who knew he was booked for theentire route; but the young man made no reply, and the fresh, spiritedhorses soon bore the lumbering vehicle far out of sight, leaving him towatch the cloud of dust which it carried in its train. 

Uncle Timothy was in his element, for it was not often that a guest ofDurward's appearance honored his house with more than a passing call, and with the familiarity so common to a country landlord, he slappedhim on the shoulder, telling him "there was the tallest kind of fish inthe Honeoye, " whose waters, through the thick foliage of the trees werejust discernible, sparkling and gleaming in the bright sunlight. 

"I never fish, thank you, sir, " answered Durward, while thegood-natured landlord continued: "Now you don't say it! Hunt, then, mebby?"

"Occasionally, " said Durward, adding, "But my reason for stopping hereis of entirely a different nature. I hear there is with you a sicklady. She is a friend of mine, and I am staying to see that she iswell attended to. "

"Yes, yes, " said Uncle Timothy, suddenly changing his opinion of 'Lena, whose want of money had made him sadly suspicious of her. "Yes, yes, afine gal; fell into good hands, too, for my old woman is the greatestkind of a nuss. Want to see her, don't you?--the lady I mean. "

"Not just yet; I would like a few moments' conversation with your wifefirst, " answered Durward. 

Greatly frustrated when she learned that the stylish looking gentlemanwished to talk with her, Aunt Betsey rubbed her shining face withflour, and donning another cap, repaired to the sitting-room, where shecommenced making excuses about herself, the house, and everything else, saying, "'twant what he was used to, she knew, but she hoped he'd tryto put up with it. "

As soon as he was able to get in a word, Durward proceeded to ask herevery particular concerning 'Lena's illness, and whether she wouldprobably recognize him should he venture into her presence, "Bless your dear heart, no. She hain't known a soul on us these threedays. Sometimes she calls me 'grandmother, ' and says when she's deadI'll know she's innocent. 'Pears Like somebody has been slanderin'her, for she begs and pleads with Durward, as she calls him, not tobelieve it. Ain't you the one she means?"

Durward nodded, and Mrs. Aldergrass continued:

"I thought so, for when the stage driv up she was standin' straight inthe bed, ravin' and screechin', but the minit she heard your voice shedropped down, and has been as quiet ever since. Will you go up now?"

Durward signified his willingness, and following his landlady, he soonstood in the close, pent-up room where, in an uneasy slumber, 'Lena laypanting for breath, and at intervals faintly moaning in her sleep. Shehad fearfully changed since last he saw her, and with a groan, he bentover her, murmuring, "My poor 'Lena, " while he gently laid his cool, moist hand upon her burning brow. As if there were something soothingin its touch, she quickly placed her little hot, parched hand on his, whispering, "Keep it there. It will make me well. "

For a long time he sat by her, bathing her head and carefully removingfrom her face and neck the thick curls which Mrs. Aldergrass hadthought to cut away. At last she awoke, but Durward shrank almost infear from the wild, bright eyes which gazed so fixedly upon him, for inthem was no ray of reason. She called him "John" blessing him forcoming, and saying, "Did you tell Durward. Does _he_ know?"

"I am Durward, " said he. "Don't you recognize me? Look again. "

"No, no, " she answered, with a mocking laugh, which made him shudder, it was so unlike the merry, ringing tones he had once loved to hear. "No, no, you are not Durward. He would not look at me as you do. Hethinks me guilty. "

It was in vain Durward strove to convince her of his identity. Shewould only answer with a laugh, which grated so harshly on his ear thathe finally desisted, and suffered her to think he was her cousin. Thesmallness of her chamber troubled him, and when Mrs. Aldergrass came uphe asked if there was no other apartment where 'Lena would be morecomfortable. 

"Of course there is, " said Aunt Betsy. "There's the best chamber I wasgoin' to give to you. "

"Never mind me, " said he. "Let her have every comfort the houseaffords, and you shall be amply paid. "

Uncle Timothy had now no objection to the offer, and the large, airyroom with its snowy, draped bed was soon in readiness for the sufferer, who, in one of her wayward moods, absolutely refused to be moved. Itwas in vain that Aunt Betsey plead, persuaded, and threatened, and atlast in despair Durward was called in to try his powers of persuasion. 

"That's something more like it, " said 'Lena, and when he urged upon herthe necessity of her removal, she asked, "Will you go with me?"

"Certainly, " said he. 

"And stay with me?"

"Certainly. "

"Then I'll go, " she continued, stretching her arms toward him as achild toward its mother. 

A moment more and she was reclining on the soft downy pillows, thespecial pride of Mrs. Aldergrass, who bustled in and out, while herhusband, ashamed of his stinginess, said "they should of moved herafore, only 'twas a bad sign. "

During the remainder of the day she seemed more quiet, talkingincessantly, it is true, but never raving if Durward were near. If isstrange what power he had over her, a word from him sufficing at anytime to subdue her when in her most violent fits of frenzy. For twodays and nights he watched by her side, never giving himself a moment'srest, while the neighbors looked on, surmising and commenting as peoplealways will. Every delicacy of the season, however costly, waspurchased for her comfort, while each morning the flowers which he knewshe loved the best were freshly gathered from the different gardens ofLaurel Hill, and in broken pitchers, cracked tumblers, and nickedsaucers, adorned the room. 

At the close of the third day she fell into a heavy slumber, andDurward, worn out and weary, retired to take the rest he so muchneeded. For a long time 'Lena slept, watched by the physician, who, knowing that the crisis had arrived, waited anxiously for her waking, which came at last, bringing with it the light of returning reason. Dreamily she gazed about the room, and in a voice no longer strong withthe excitement of delirium, asked, "Where am I, and how came I here?"

In a few words the physician explained all that was necessary for herto know, and then going for Mrs. Aldergrass, told her of the favorablechange in his patient, adding that a sudden shock might still provefatal. "Therefore, " said he, "though I know not in what relation thisMr. Bellmont stands to her, I think it advisable for her to remainawhile in ignorance of his presence. It is of the utmost consequencethat she be kept quiet for a few days, at the end of which time she cansee him. "

All this Aunt Betsey communicated to Durward, who unwilling to doanything which would endanger 'Lena's safety, kept himself aloof, treading softly and speaking low, for as if her hearing were sharpenedby disease she more than once, when he was talking in the hall below, started up, listening eagerly; then, as if satisfied that she had beendeceived, she would resume her position, while the flush on her cheekdeepened as she thought, "Oh, what if it had indeed been he!"

Nearly all the day long he sat just without the door, holding hisbreath as he caught the faint tones of her voice, and longing for thehour when he could see her, and obtain, if possible, some clue to themystery attending her and his father. His mother's words, togetherwith what he had heard 'Lena say in her ravings, had tended to convincehim that _she_, at least, might be innocent, and once assured of this, he felt that he would gladly fold her to his bosom, and cherish herthere as the choicest of heaven's blessings. All this time 'Lena hadno suspicion of his presence, but she wondered at the many luxurieswhich surrounded her, and once, when Mrs. Aldergrass offered her somechoice wine, she asked who it was that supplied her with so manycomforts. Aunt Betsey's, forte did not lay in keeping a secret, andrather evasively she replied, "You mustn't ask me too many questionsjust yet!"

'Lena's suspicions were at once aroused, and for more than an hour shelay thinking--trying to recall something which seamed to her like adream. At last calling Aunt Betsey to her, she said, "There wassomebody here while I was so sick--somebody besides strangers--somebodythat stayed with me all the time--who was it?"

"Nobody, nobody--I mustn't tell, " said Mrs. Aldergrass, hurriedly, while 'Lena continued, "Was it Cousin John?"

"No, no; don't guess any more, " was Mrs. Aldergrass's reply, and 'Lena, clasping her hands together, exclaimed, "Oh, could it he be?"

The words reached Durward's ear, and nothing but a sense of the harm itmight do prevented him from going at once to her bedside. That night, at his earnest request, the physician gave him permission to see her inthe morning, and Mrs. Aldergrass was commissioned to prepare her forthe interview. 'Lena did not ask who it was; she felt that she knew;and the knowledge that he was there--that he had cared forher--operated upon her like a spell, soothing her into the mostrefreshing slumber she had experienced for many a weary week. With thesun-rising she was awake, but Mrs. Aldergrass, who came in soon after, told her that the visitor was not to be admitted until about ten, asshe would by that time have become more composed, and be the betterable to endure the excitement of the interview. A natural delicacyprevented 'Lena from objecting to the delay, and, as calmly aspossible, she watched Mrs. Aldergrass while she put the room to rights, and then patiently submitted to the arranging of her curls, whichduring her illness had become matted and tangled. Before eighteverything was in readiness, and soon after, worn out by her ownexertions, 'Lena again fell asleep. 

"How lovely she looks, " thought Mrs. Aldergrass. "He shall just have apeep at her, " and stepping to the door she beckoned Durward to her side. 

Never before had 'Lena, seemed so beautiful to him, and as he lookedupon her, he felt his doubts removing, one by one. She wasinnocent--it could not be otherwise--and very impatiently he awaitedthe lapse of the two hours which must pass ere he could see her, faceto face. At length, as the surest way of killing time, he started outfor a walk in a pleasant wood, which skirted the foot of Laurel Hill. 

Here for a time we leave him, while in another chapter we speak of anevent which, in the natural order of things, should here be narrated. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

'LENA'S FATHER. 

Two or three days before the morning of which we have spoken, UncleTimothy, who like many of his profession had been guilty of a slightinfringement of the "Maine" liquor law, had been called to answer forthe same at the court then in session in the village of Canandaigua, the terminus of the stage route. Altogether too stingy to pay thecoach fare, his own horse had carried him out, going for him on thenight preceding Durward's projected meeting with 'Lena. On theafternoon of that day the cars from New York brought up severalpassengers, who being bound for Buffalo, were obliged to wait somehours for the arrival of the Albany train. 

Among those who stopped at the same house with Uncle Timothy, was ourold acquaintance, Mr. Graham, who had returned from Europe, and wasnow homeward bound, firmly fixed in his intention to do right atlast. Many and many a time, during his travels had the image of apale, sad face arisen before him, accusing him of so long neglectingto own his child, for 'Lena was his daughter, and she, who in all herbright beauty had years ago gone down to an early grave, was hiswife, the wife of his first, and in bitterness of heart he sometimesthought, of his only love. His childhood's home, which was at thesunny south, was not a happy one, for ere he had learned to lisp hismother's name, she had died, leaving him to the guardianship of hisfather, who was cold, exacting, and tyrannical, ruling his son with arod of iron, and by his stern, unbending manner increasing thenatural cowardice of his disposition. From his mother Harry hadinherited a generous, impulsive nature, frequently leading him intoerrors which his father condemned with so much severity that he earlylearned the art of concealment, as far, at least, as his father wasconcerned. 

At the age of eighteen he left home for Yale, where he spent fourhappy years, for the restraints of college life, though sometimesirksome, were preferable far to the dull monotony of his southernhome; and when at last he was graduated, and there was no longer anexcuse for tarrying, he lingered by the way, stopping at the thenvillage of Springfield, where, actuated by some sudden freak, heregistered himself as Harry _Rivers_, the latter being his middlename. For doing this he had no particular reason, except that itsuited his fancy, and Rivers, he thought, was a better name thanGraham. Here he met with Helena Nichols, whose uncommon beauty firstattracted his attention, and whose fresh, unstudied manners afterwardwon his love to such an extent, that in an unguarded moment, andwithout a thought of the result, he married her, neglecting to tellher his real name before their marriage, because he feared she wouldcease to respect him if she knew he had deceived her, and thenafterward finding it harder than ever to confess his fault. 

As time wore on, his father's letters, commanding him to return, grewmore and more peremptory, until at last he wrote, "I amsick--dying--and if you do not come, I'll cast you off forever. "

Harry knew this was no unmeaning threat, and he now began to reap thefruit of his folly. He could not give up Helena, who daily grewdearer to him, neither could he brave the displeasure of his fatherby acknowledging his marriage, for disinheritance was sure to follow. In this dilemma he resolved to compromise the matter. He would leaveHelena awhile; he would visit his father, and if a favorableopportunity occurred, he would confess all; if not, he would returnto his wife and do the best he could. But she must be provided forduring his absence, and to effect this, he wrote to his father, saying he stood greatly in need of five hundred dollars, and thatimmediately on its receipt he would start for home. Inconsistent asit seemed with his general character, the elder Mr. Graham wasgenerous with his money, lavishing upon his son all that he askedfor, and the money was accordingly sent without a moment's hesitation. 

And now Harry's besetting sin, _secrecy_, came again in action, andinstead of manfully telling Helena the truth, he left her privately, stealing away at night, and quieting his conscience by promisinghimself to reveal all in a letter, which was actually written, but asat the time of its arrival Helena was at home, and the postmasterknew of no such person, it was at last sent to Washington withthousands of its companions. The reader already knows how 'Lena'syoung mother watched for her recreant husband's coming until life andhope died out together, and it is only necessary to repeat that partof the story which relates to Harry, who on his return home found hisfather much worse than he expected. At his bedside, ministering tohis wants, was a young, dashing widow, who prided herself upon beingLady Bellmont. On his death-bed her father had committed her to theguardianship of Mr. Graham, who, strictly honorable in all hisdealings, had held his trust until the time of her marriage with ayoung Englishman. 

Unfortunately, as it proved for Harry, and fortunately for SirArthur, who had nothing in common with his wife, the latter diedwithin two years after his marriage, leaving his widow and infant sonagain to the care of Mr. Graham, with whom Lady Bellmont, as she waspleased to call herself, lived at intervals, swaying him whicheverway she listed, and influencing him as he had never been influencedbefore. The secret of this was, that the old man had his eye uponher vast possessions, which he destined for his son, who, ignorant ofthe honor intended him, had presumed to marry according to thepromptings of his heart. 

Scarcely was the first greeting over, ere his father at once madeknown his plans, to which Harry listened with mingled pain andamazement. "Lucy--Lady Bellmont!" said he, "why, she's a mother--awidow--beside being ten years my senior. "

"Three years, " interrupted his father. "She is twenty-five, youtwenty-two, and then as to her being a widow and a mother, theimmensity of her wealth atones for that. She is much sought after, but I think she prefers you. She will make you a good wife, and I amresolved to see the union consummated ere I die. "

"Never sir, never, " answered Harry, in a more decided manner than hehad before assumed toward his father. "It is utterly impossible. "

Mr. Graham was too much exhausted to urge the matter at that time, but he continued at intervals to harass Harry, until the very sightof Lucy Bellmont became hateful to him. It was not so, however, withthe son, the Durward of our story. He was a fine little fellow, whomevery one loved, and for hours would Harry amuse himself with him, while his thoughts were with his own wife and child, the latter ofwhom was to be so strangely connected with the fortunes of the boy athis side. For weeks his father lingered, each day seeming an age toHarry, who, though he did not wish to hasten his father's death, still longed to be away. Twice had he written without obtaining ananswer, and he was about making up his mind to start, at all events, when his father suddenly died, leaving him the sole heir of all hisprincely fortune, and with his latest breath enjoining it upon him tomarry Lucy Bellmont, who, after the funeral was over, adverted to it, saying, in her softest tones, "I hope you don't feel obliged tofulfill your father's request. "

"Of course not, " was Harry's short answer, as he went on with hispreparations for his journey, anticipating the happiness he shouldexperience in making Helena the mistress of his luxurious home. 

But alas for human hopes. The very morning on which he was intendingto start, he was seized with a fever, which kept him confined to hisbed until the spring was far advanced. Sooner than he was able hestarted for Springfield in quest of Helena, learning from the womanwhom he had left in charge, that she was dead, and her baby too! Theshock was too much for him in his weak state, and for two weeks hewas again confined to a sick-bed, sincerely mourning the untimely endof one whom he had truly loved, and whose death his own foolishconduct had hastened. 

Soon after their marriage her portrait had been taken by the bestartist in the town, and this he determined to procure as a memento ofthe few happy days he had spent with Helena. But the cottage wherehe left her was now occupied by strangers, and after many inquiries, he learned that the portrait, together with some of the furniture, had been sold to pay the rent, which became due soon after hisdeparture. His next thought was to visit her parents, but from thishis natural timidity shrank. They would reproach him, he thought, with the death of their daughter, whom he had so deeply wronged, andnot possessing sufficient courage to meet them face to face, he againstarted for home, bearing a sad heart, which scarcely again felt athrill of joy until the morning when he first met with 'Lena, whoseexact resemblance to her mother so startled him as to arouse thejealousy of his wife. 

It would be both needless and tiresome to enumerate the many ways andmeans by which Lucy Bellmont sought to ensnare him. Suffice it tosay, that she at last succeeded, and he married her, finding in thecompanionship of her son more real pleasure than he ever experiencedin her society. After a time Mrs. Graham, growing weary ofCharleston, where her haughty, overbearing manner made her unpopular, besought her husband to remove, which he finally did, going toLouisville, where he remained until the time of his removal toWoodlawn. Fully believing what the old nurse had told him of thedeath of his wife and child, he had no idea of the existence of thelatter, though often in the stillness of night the remembrance of thelittle girl whom Durward had pointed out to him in the cars, arosebefore him, haunting him with visions of the past, but it was notuntil he met her at Maple Grove that he entertained a thought of herbeing his daughter. 

From that time his whole being seemed changed, for there was now anobject for which to live. Carefully had he guarded from his wife aknowledge of his first marriage, for he dreaded her sneeringreproaches, and he could not hear his beloved Helena's name breathedlightly by one so greatly her inferior. When he saw 'Lena, however, his first impulse was to clasp her in his arms and compel his wife toown her, but day after day went by, and he still delayed, hoping fora more favorable opportunity, which never came. Had he found her inless favorable circumstances, he might have done differently, butseeing only the brightest side of her life, he believed hercomparatively happy. She was well educated, accomplished, andbeautiful, and so he waited, secure in the fact that he was near tosee that no harm should befall her. Once it occurred to him thatpossibly he might die suddenly, thus leaving his relationship to hera secret forever, and acting upon this thought, he immediately madehis will, bequeathing all to 'Lena, whom he acknowledged to be hisdaughter, adding an explanation of the whole affair, together with amost touching letter to his child, who would never see it until hewas dead. 

This done, he felt greatly relieved, and each day found some goodexcuse for still keeping it from his wife, who worried himincessantly concerning his evident preference for 'Lena. Many andmany a time he resolved to tell her all, but as often postponed thematter, until, with the broad Atlantic between them, he ventured towrite what he could not tell her verbally and, strange to say, theeffect upon his wife was far different from what he had expected. She did not faint, for there was no one by to see her, neither didshe rave, for there was no one to hear her, but with her usualinconsistency, she blamed her husband for not telling her before. Then came other thoughts of a different nature. _She_ had helped toimpair 'Lena's reputation, and if disgrace attached to her, it wouldalso fall upon her own family. Consequently, as we have seen, sheset herself at work to atone, as far as possible, for her conduct. Her husband had given her permission to wait, if she chose, until hisreturn, ere she made the affair public, and as she dreaded theremarks it would necessarily call forth, she resolved to do so. Hehad advised her to tell 'Lena, but she was gone--no one knew whither, and nervously she waited for some tidings of the wanderer. She waswilling to receive 'Lena, but not the grandmother, _she_ was voted anintolerable nuisance, who should never darken the doors ofWoodlawn--never!

Meantime, Mr. Graham had again crossed the ocean, landing in NewYork, from whence he started for home, meeting, as we have seen, witha detention in Canandaigua, where he accidentally fell in with UncleTimothy, who, being minus quite a little sum of money on account ofhis transgression, was lamenting his ill fortune to one of hisacquaintances, and threatening to give up tavern keeping if the Mainelaw wasn't repealed. 

"Here, " said he, "it has cost me up'ards of fifty dollars, and I'llbet I hain't sold mor'n a barrel, besides what wine that Kentuckychap has bought for his gal, and I suppose they call that nothin', bein' it's for sickness. Why, good Lord, the hull on't was formedicine, or chimistry, or mechanics!"

This reminded his friend to inquire after the sick lady, whose namehe did not remember. 

"It's 'Lena, " answered Uncle Timothy, "'Lena Rivers that dandifiedchap calls her, and it's plaguy curis to me what she's a runnin' awayfor, and he a streakin' it through the country arter her; there'smischief summers, so I tell 'em, but that's no consarn of mine solong as he pays down regular. "

Mr. Graham's curiosity was instantly aroused, and the moment he couldspeak to Uncle Timothy alone, he asked what he meant by the sick lady. 

In his own peculiar dialect, Uncle Timothy told all he knew, adding, "A relation of yourn, mebby?"

"Yes, yes, " said Mr. Graham. "Is it far to Laurel Hill?"

"Better'n a dozen miles! Was you goin' out there?"

Mr. Graham replied in the affirmative, at the same time asking if hecould procure a horse and carriage there. 

Uncle Timothy never let an opportunity pass for turning a penny, andnow nudging Mr. Graham with his elbow, he said, "Them liv'ryscamps'll charge you tew dollars, at the lowest calkerlation. I'mgoing right out, and will take you for six shillin'. What do youthink?"

Mr. Graham's thoughts were not very complimentary to the shrewdYankee, but keeping his opinion to himself, he replied that he wouldgo, suggesting that they should start immediately. 

"In less than five minits. You jest set down while I go to the storearter some jimcracks for the old woman, " said Uncle Timothy, startingup the street, which was the last Mr. Graham saw of him for threelong hours. 

At the end of that time, the little man came stubbing down the walk, making many apologies, and saying "he got so engaged about the darned'liquor law, ' and the putty-heads that made it, that he'd no idee'twas so late. "

On their way home he still continued to discourse on his favoritetopic, lamenting that he had voted for the present governor, announcing his intention of "jinin' the _Hindews_ the fust time theymet at Suckerport, " a village at the foot of Honeoye lake, andstopping every man whom he knew to belong to that order, to ask ifthey took a _fee_, and if "there was any bedivelment of _gridirons_and _goats_, such as the Masons and Odd Fellers had!" Beingrepeatedly assured that the fee was only a dollar, and that theinitiatory process was not very painful, he concluded "to go it, provided they'd promise to run him for constable. Office is the hullany of the scallywags jine 'em for, and I may as well go in for asheer, " said he, thinking if he could not have the privilege ofselling liquor, he would at least secure the right of arresting thosewho drank it!

In this way his progress homeward was not very rapid, and the clockhad struck ten long ere they reached the inn, which they found stilland dark, save the light which was kept burning in 'Lena's room. 

"That's her chamber--the young gal's--where you see the candle, " saidUncle Timothy, as they drew up before the huge walls of the tavern. "I guess you won't want to disturb her to-night. "

"Certainly not, " answered Mr. Graham, adding, as he felt a twinge ofhis inveterate habit of secrecy, "If you'd just as lief, you need notspeak of me to the young gentleman; I wish to take him bysurprise"--meaning Durward. 

There was no particular necessity for this caution, for Uncle Timothywas too much absorbed in his loss to think of anything else, and whenhis wife asked "who it was that he lighted up to bed, " he replied, "Achap that wanted to come out this way, and so rid with me. "

Mr. Graham was very tired, and now scarcely had his head pressed thepillow ere he was asleep, dreaming of 'Lena, whose presence was toshed such a halo of sunlight over his hitherto cheerless home. Theringing of the bell next morning failed to arouse him, but when Mrs. Aldergrass, noticing his absence from the table, inquired for him, Uncle Timothy answered, "Never mind, let him sleep--tuckered out, mebby--and you know we allus have a sixpence more for an extra meal!"

About eight Mr. Graham arose, and after a more than usually carefultoilet, he sat down to collect his scattered thoughts, for now thatthe interview was so near, his ideas seemed suddenly to forsake him. From the window he saw Durward depart for his walk, watching himuntil he disappeared in the dim shadow of the woods. 

"I will wait until his return, and let him tell her, " thought he, butwhen a half hour or more went by and Durward did not come, heconcluded to go down and ask to see her by himself. 

In order to do this, it was necessary for him to pass 'Lena's room, the door of which was ajar. She was awake, and hearing his step, thought it was Mrs. Aldergrass, and called to her. A thrill ofexquisite delight ran through his frame at the sound of her voice, and for an instant he debated the propriety of going to her at once. A second call decided him, and in a moment he was at her bedside, clasping her in his arms, and exclaiming, "My precious 'Lena! My_daughter_! Has nothing ever told you that I am your father, thehusband of your angel mother, who lives again in her child--_my_child--my 'Lena?"

For a moment 'Lena's brain grew dizzy, and she had well-nigh fainted, when the sound of Mr. Graham's voice brought her back toconsciousness. Pressing his lips to her white brow, he said, "Speakto me my daughter. Say that you receive me as your father for such Iam. "

With lightning rapidity 'Lena's thoughts traversed the past, whosedark mystery was now made plain, and as the thought that it might beso--that it was so--flashed upon her, she clasped her hands together, exclaiming, "My father! Is it true? You are not deceiving me?"

"Deceive you, darling?--no, " said he. "I am your father, and HelenaNichols was my wife. "

"Why then did you leave her? Why have you so long left meunacknowledged?" asked 'Lena. 

Mr. Graham groaned bitterly. The hardest part was yet to come, buthe met it manfully, telling her the whole story, sparing not himselfin the least, and ending by asking if, after all this, she couldforgive and love him as her father. 

Raising herself in bed, 'Lena wound her arms around his neck, andlaying her face against his, wept like a little child. He felt thathe was sufficiently answered, and holding her closer to his bosom, hepushed back the clustering curls, kissing her again and again, whilehe said aloud, "I have your answer, dearest one; we will never beparted again. "

So absorbed was he in his newly-recovered treasure, that he did notobserve the fiery eye, the glittering teeth, and clenched first ofDurward Bellmont, who had returned from his walk, and who, in comingup to his, room, had recognized the tones of his father's voice. Recoiling backward a step or two, he was just in time to see 'Lena asshe threw herself into Mr. Graham's, arms--in time to hear the tenderwords of endearment lavished upon her by his father. Staggeringbackward, he caught at the banister to keep from falling, while amoan of anguish came from his ashen lips. Alone in his room, he grewcalmer, though his heart still quivered with unutterable agony as hestrode up and down the room, exclaiming, as he had once done before, "I would far rather see her dead than thus--my lost, lost 'Lena!"

Then, in the deep bitterness of his spirit, he cursed his father, whom he believed to be far more guilty than she. "I cannot meethim, " thought he; "there is murder at my heart, and I must away erehe knows of my presence. "

Suiting the action to the word, he hastened down the stairs, glancingback once, and seeing 'Lena reclining upon his father's arm, whileher eyes were raised to his with a sweet, confiding smile, which toldof perfect happiness. 

"Thank God that I am unarmed, else he could not live, " thought he, hurrying into the bar-room, where he placed in Uncle Timothy's handsdouble the sum due for himself and 'Lena, and then, without a word ofexplanation, he walked away. 

He was a good pedestrian, and preferring solitude in his presentstate of feeling, he determined to go on foot to Canandaigua, adistance of little more than a dozen miles. Meantime, Mr. Graham waslearning from 'Lena the cause of her being there, and though she, asfar as possible, softened the fact of his having been accessory toher misfortunes, he felt it none the less keenly, and wouldfrequently interrupt her with the exclamation that it was the resultof his cowardice--his despicable habit of secrecy. When she spoke ofthe curl which his wife had burned, he seemed deeply affected, groaning aloud as he hid his face in his hands, "And _she_ found it--she burned it, " said he; "and it was all I hadleft of my Helena. I cut it from her head on the morning of mydeparture, when she lay sleeping, little dreaming of my crueldesertion. But, " he added, "I can bear it better now that I haveyou, her living image, for what she was when last I saw her, you arenow. "

Their conversation then turned upon Durward, and with the tact he sowell knew how to employ, Mr. Graham drew from his blushing daughter aconfession of the love she bore him. 

"He is worthy of you, " said he, while 'Lena, without seeming to heedthe remark, said, "I have not seen him yet, but I am expecting himevery moment, for he was to visit me this morning. "

At this juncture Mrs. Aldergrass, who had been at one of herneighbors', came in, appearing greatly surprised at the sight of thestranger, whom 'Lena quietly introduced as "her father, " while Mr. Graham colored painfully as Mrs. Aldergrass, curtsying very low, hoped _Mr. Rivers_ was well!

"Let it go so, " whispered 'Lena, as she saw her father about to speak. 

Mr. Graham complied, and then observing how anxiously his daughter'seyes sought the doorway, whenever a footstep was heard, he asked Mrs. Aldergrass for Mr. Bellmont, saying they would like to see him, if hehad returned. 

Quickly going downstairs, Mrs. Aldergrass soon came back, announcingthat "he'd paid his bill and gone off. "

"Gone!" said Mr. Graham. "There must be some mistake. I will godown and inquire. "

With his hand in his pocket grasping the purse containing the gold, Uncle Timothy told all he knew, adding, that "'twan't noways likelybut he'd come back agin, for he'd left things in his room to thevally of five or six dollars. "

Upon reflection, Mr. Graham concluded so, too, and returning to'Lena, he sat by her all day, soothing her with assurances thatDurward would surely come back, as there was no possible reason forhis leaving them so abruptly. As the day wore away and the nightcame on he seemed less sure, while even Uncle Timothy began tofidget, and when in the evening a young pettifogger, who had recentlyhung out his shingle on Laurel Hill, came in, he asked him, in a lowtone, "if, under the present governor, they _hung_ folks oncircumstantial evidence alone. "

"Unquestionably, for that is sometimes the best kind of evidence, "answered the sprig of the law, taking out some little ivory tabletsand making a charge against Uncle Timothy for professional advice!

"But if one of my boarders, who has lots of money, goes off in broaddaylight and is never heard of agin, would that be any sign he wasmurdered--by the landlord?" continued Uncle Timothy, beginning tothink there might be a worse law than the Maine liquor law. 

"That depends upon the previous character of the landlord, " answeredthe lawyer, making another entry, while Uncle Timothy, brighteningup, exclaimed, "I shall stand the racket, then, for my character istip-top. "

In the morning Mr. Graham announced his intention of going in questof Durward, and with a magnanimity quite praiseworthy, Uncle Timothyoffered his _hoss_ and wagon "for nothin', provided Mr. Graham wouldleave his watch as a guaranty against _his_ runnin' off!"

Just as Mr. Graham was about to start, a horseman rode up, saying hehad come from Canandaigua at the request of a Mr. Bellmont, whowished him to bring letters for Mr. Graham and Miss Rivers. 

"And where is Mr. Bellmont?" asked Mr. Graham, to which the manreplied, that he took the six o'clock train the night before, saying, further, that his manner was so strange as to induce a suspicion ofinsanity on the part of those who saw him. 

Taking the package, Mr. Graham repaired to 'Lena's room, giving herher letter, and then reading his, which was full of bitterness, denouncing him as a villain and cautioning him, as he valued hislife, never again to cross the track of his outraged step-son. 

"You have robbed me, " he wrote, "of all I hold most dear, and while Ido not censure her the less, I blame you the more, for you are olderin experience, older in years, and ten-fold older in sin, and I knowyou must have used every art your foul nature could suggest, ere youwon my lost 'Lena from the path of rectitude. "

In the utmost astonishment Mr. Graham looked up at 'Lena, who hadfainted. It was long ere she returned to consciousness, and then herfainting fit was followed by another more severe, if possible, thanthe first, while in speechless agony Mr. Graham hung over her. 

"I killed the mother, and now I am killing the child, " thought he. 

But at last 'Lena seemed better, and taking from the pillow thecrumpled note, she passed it toward her father, bidding him read it. It was as follows;

"MY LOST 'LENA: By this title it seems appropriate for me to callyou, for you are more surely lost to me than you would be were thissummer sun shining upon your grave. And, 'Lena, believe me when Isay I would rather, far rather, see you dead than the guilty thingyou are, for then your memory would be to me as a holy, blessedinfluence, leading me on to a better world, where I could hope togreet you as my spirit bride. But now, alas! how dark the cloudwhich shrouds you from my sight. 

"Oh, 'Lena, 'Lena, how could you deceive me thus, when I thought youso pure and innocent, when even now, I would willingly lay down mylife could that save you from ruin. 

"Do you ask what I mean? I have only to refer you to what thismorning took place between you and the vile man I once called father, and whom I believed to be the soul of truth and honor. With a heartfull of tenderness toward you, I was hastening to your side, when ascene met my view which stilled the beatings of my pulse and curdledthe very blood in my veins, I saw you throw your arms around _his_neck--the husband of _my_ mother. I saw you lay your head upon hisbosom. I heard him as he called you _dearest_, and said you wouldnever be parted again!

"You know all that has passed heretofore, and can you wonder that myworst fears are now confirmed? God knows how I struggled againstthose doubts, which were nearly removed, when, by the evidence of myown eyesight, uncertainty was made sure. 

"And now, my once loved, but erring 'Lena, farewell. I am goingaway--whither, I know not, care not, so that I never hear your namecoupled with disgrace. Another reason why I go, is that the hotblood of the south burns too fiercely in my veins to suffer me tomeet your destroyer and not raise my hand against him. When thisreaches you, I shall be far away. But what matters it to you? Andyet, 'Lena, there will come a time when you'll remember one who, hadyou remained true to yourself, would have devoted his life to makeyou happy, for I know I am not indifferent to you. I have lead it inyour speaking eye, and in the childlike confidence with which youwould yield to _me_ when no one else could control your wild ravings. 

"But enough of this. Time hastens, and I must say farewell--farewellforever--my _lost, lost_ 'Lena!

 "DURWARD. "

Gradually as Mr. Graham read, he felt a glow of indignation atDurward's hastiness. "Rash boy! he might at least have spoken withme, " said he, as he finished the letter, but 'Lena would hear no wordof censure against him. She did not blame him. She saw it all, understood it all, and as she recalled the contents of his letter, her own heart sadly echoed, "_lost forever_. "

As well as he was able, Mr. Graham tried to comfort her, but in spiteof his endeavors, there was still at her heart the same dull, heavypain, and most anxiously Mr. Graham watched her, waiting impatientlyfor the time when she would be able to start for home, as he hoped achange of place and scene would do much toward restoring both herhealth and spirits. Soon after his arrival at Laurel Hill, Mr. Graham had written to Mr. Livingstone, telling him what he had beforetold his wife, and adding, "Of course, my _daughter's_ home will infuture be with me, at Woodlawn, where I shall be happy to seeyourself and family at any time. "

This part of the letter he showed to 'Lena, who, after reading it, seemed for a long time absorbed in thought. 

"What is it, darling? Of what are you thinking?" Mr. Graham asked, at length, and 'Lena, taking the hand which he had laid gently uponher forehead, replied, "I am thinking of poor grandmother. She isnot happy, now, at Maple Grove. She will be more unhappy should Ileave her, and if you please, I would rather stay there with her. Ican see you every day. "

"Do you suppose me cruel enough to separate you from yourgrandmother?" interrupted Mr. Graham. "No, no, I am not quite so badas that. Woodlawn is large--there are rooms enough--and grandmashall have her choice, provided it is a reasonable one. "

"And your wife--Mrs. Graham? What will she say?" timidly inquired'Lena, involuntarily shrinking from the very thought of coming incontact with the little lady who had so recently come up before herin the new and formidable aspect of _stepmother_!

Mr. Graham did not know himself what she would say, neither did hecare. The fault of his youth once confessed, he felt himself a newman, able to cope with almost anything, and if in the future his wifeobjected to what he knew to be right, it would do her no good, forhenceforth he was to rule his own house. Some such thoughts passedthrough his mind, but it would not be proper, he knew, to expresshimself thus to 'Lena, so he laughingly replied, "Oh, we'll fix that, easily enough. "

At the time he wrote to Mr. Livingstone, he had also sent a letter tohis wife, announcing his safe return from Europe, and saying that heshould be at home as soon as 'Lena's health would admit of hertraveling. Not wishing to alarm her unnecessarily, he merely said ofDurward, that he had found him at Laurel Hill. To this letter Mrs. Graham replied immediately, and with a far better grace than herhusband had expected. Very frankly she confessed the unkind part shehad acted toward 'Lena, and while she said she was sorry, she alsospoke of the reaction which had taken place in the minds of Lena'sfriends, who, she said, would gladly welcome her back, The continued absence of Durward was now the only drawback to 'Lena'shappiness, and with a comparatively light heart, she began toanticipate her journey home. Most liberally did Mr. Graham pay forboth himself and 'Lena, and Uncle Timothy, as he counted the shiningcoin, dropping it upon the table to make sure it was not _bogus_, felt quite reconciled to his recent loss of fifty dollars. Jerry, the driver, was also generously rewarded for his kindness to thestranger-girl, and just before he left, Mr. Graham offered to makehim his chief overseer, if he would accompany him to Kentucky. 

"You are just the man I want, " said he, "and I know you'll like it. What do you say?"

For the sake of occasionally seeing 'Lena, whom he considered assomething more than mortal, Jerry would gladly have gone, but he wasa staunch abolitionist, dyed in the wool, and scratching his head, hereplied, "I'm obleeged to you, but I b'lieve I'd rather drive_hosses_ than _niggers_!"

"Mebby you could run one on 'em off, and so make a little sumthin', "slyly whispered Uncle Timothy, his eyes always on the main chance, but it was no part of Jerry's creed to make anything, and as 'Lena atthat moment appeared, he beat a precipitate retreat, going out behindthe church, where he watched the departure of his southern friends, saying afterward, to Mrs. Aldergrass, who chided him for his conduct, that "he never could bid nobody good-bye, he was so darnedtender-hearted!"

CHAPTER XXXV. 

EXCITEMENT AT MAPLE GROVE. 

"'Lena been gone four weeks and father never stirred a peg after her!That is smart, I must say. Why didn't you let me know it before!"exclaimed John Jr. , as he one morning unexpectedly made hisappearance at Maple grove. 

During his absence Carrie had been his only correspondent, and forsome reason or other she delayed telling him of 'Lena's flight untilquite recently. Instantly forgetting his resolution of not returningfor a year, he came home with headlong haste, determining to startimmediately after his cousin. 

"I reckon if you knew all that has been said about her, you wouldn'tfeel quite so anxious to get her back, " said Carrie. "For my part, Ifeel quite relieved at her absence. "

"Shut up your head, " roared John 'Jr. "'Lena is no more guilty than_you_. By George, I most cried when I heard how nobly she worked tosave Anna from old Baldhead. And this is her reward! GraciousPeter! I sometimes wish there wasn't a woman in the world!"

"If they'd all marry you, there wouldn't be long!" retorted Carrie. 

"You've said it now, haven't you?" answered John Jr. , while hisfather suggested that they stop quarreling, adding, as an apology forhis own neglect, that Durward had gone after 'Lena, who was probablyat Mr. Everett's, and that he himself had advertised in all theprincipal papers. 

"Just like Bellmont! He's a fine fellow and deserves 'Lena, ifanybody does, " exclaimed John Jr. , while Carrie chimed in, "Pshaw!I've no idea he's gone for her. Why, they've hardly spoken forseveral months, and besides that, Mrs. Graham will never suffer himto marry one of so low origin. "

"The deary me!" said John Jr. , mimicking his sister's manner, "howmuch lower is her origin than yours?"

Carrie's reply was prevented by the appearance of her grandmother, who, hearing that John Jr. Was there, had hobbled in to see him. Perfectly rational on all other subjects, Mrs. Nichols stillpersisted in saying of 'Lena, that she had killed her, and now, whenher first greeting with John Jr. Was over, she whispered in his ear, "Have they told you 'Lena was dead? She is--I killed her--it says sohere, " and she handed him the almost worn-out note which sheconstantly carried with her. Rough as he seemed at times, there wasin John Jr. 's nature many a tender spot, and when he saw the look ofchildish imbecility on his grandmother's face, he pressed his strongarm around her, and a tear actually dropped upon her gray hair as hetold her 'Lena was not dead--he was going to find her and bring herhome. At that moment old Caesar, who had been to the post-office, returned, bringing Mr. Graham's letter, which had just arrived. 

"That's Mr. Graham's handwriting, " said Carrie; glancing at thesuperscription. "Perhaps _he_ knows something of 'Lena!" and shelooked meaningly at her mother, who, with a peculiar twist of hermouth, replied, "Very likely. "

"You are right. He _does_ know something of her, " said Mr. Livingstone, as he finished reading the letter. "She is with him ata little village called Laurel Hill, somewhere in New York. "

"There! I told you so. Poor Mrs. Graham. It will kill her. I mustgo and see her immediately, " exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, settlingherself back quite composedly in her chair, while Carrie, turning toher brother, asked "what he thought of 'Lena now. "

"Just what I always did, " he replied. "There's fraud somewhere. Will you let me see that, sir?" advancing toward his father, who, placing the letter in his hand, walked to the window to hide thevaried emotions of his face. 

Rapidly John Jr. Perused it, comprehending the whole then, when itwas finished, he seized his hat, and throwing it up in the air, shouted, "Hurrah! Hurrah for _Miss 'Lena Rivers Graham_, daughter ofthe Honorable Harry Rivers Graham. I was never so glad in my life. Hurrah!" and again the hat went up, upsetting in its descent a costlyvase, the fragments of which followed in the direction of the hat, asthe young man capered about the room, perfectly insane with joy. 

"Is the boy crazy?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, catching him by the coatas he passed her, while Carrie attempted to snatch the letter fromhis hand. 

"Crazy?--yes, " said he. "Who do you think 'Lena's father is? Noless a person than Mr. Graham himself. Now taunt her again, Cad, with her low origin, if you like. She isn't coming here to live anymore. She's going to Woodlawn. She'll marry Durward, while you'llbe a cross, dried-up old maid, eh, Cad?" and he chucked her under thechin, while she began to cry, bidding him let her alone. 

"What do you mean?" interposed Mrs. Livingstone, trembling lest itmight be true. 

"I will read the letter and you can judge for yourself, " replied John. 

Both Carrie and her mother were too much astonished to utter asyllable, while, in their hearts, each hoped it would prove untrue. Bending forward, grandma had listened eagerly, her dim eye lightingup as she occasionally caught the meaning of what she heard; but shecould not understand it at once, and turning to her son, she said, "What is it, John? what does it mean?"

As well as they could, Mr. Livingstone and John Jr. Explained it toher, and when at length she comprehended it, in her own peculiar wayshe exclaimed, "Thank God that 'Leny is a lady, at last--as good asthe biggest on 'em. Oh, I wish Helleny had lived to know who herhusband was. Poor critter! Mebby he'll give me money to go back andsee the old place, once more, afore I die. "

"If he don't I will, " said Mr. Livingstone, upon which his wife, whohad not spoken before, wondered "where he'd get it. "

By this time Carrie had comforted herself with the assurance that as'Lena was now Durward's sister, he would not, of course, marry her, and determining to make the best of it, she replied to her brother, who rallied her on her crestfallen looks, that he was greatlymistaken, for "she was as pleased as any one at 'Lena's good fortune, but it did not follow that she must make a fool of herself, as someothers did. "

The closing part of this remark was lost on John Jr. , who had leftthe room. In the first excitement, he had thought "how glad Nelliewill be, " and acting, as he generally did, upon impulse, he nowordered his horse, and dashing off at full speed, as usual, surprisedNellie, first, with his sudden appearance, second, with hisannouncement of 'Lena's parentage, and third, by an offer of himself!

"It's your destiny, " said he, "and it's of no use to resist. Whatdid poor little Meb die for, if it wasn't to make room for you. Soyou may as well say yes first as last. I'm odd, I know, but you canfix me over. I'll do exactly what you wish me to. Say yes, Nellie, won't you ?"

And Nellie did say yes, wondering, the while, it ever before womanhad such wooing. We think not, for never was there another John Jr. 

"I have had happiness enough for one day, " said he, kissing herblushing cheek and hurrying away. 

As if every hitherto neglected duty were now suddenly remembered, hewent straight from Mr. Douglass's to the marble factory, where heordered a costly stone for the little grave on the sunny slope, asyet unmarked save by the tall grass and rank weeds which grew aboveit. 

"What inscription will you have?" asked the engraver. John Jr. Thought for a moment, and then replied; "Simply 'Mabel. ' Nothingmore or less; that tells the whole story, " and involuntarilymurmuring to himself, "Poor little Meb, I wish she knew how happy Iam, " he started for home, where he was somewhat surprised to findMrs. Graham. 

She had also received a letter from her husband, and deeming secrecyno longer advisable, had come over to Maple Grove, where, to hergreat satisfaction, she found that the news had preceded her. Feeling sure that Mrs. Graham must feel greatly annoyed, both Carrieand her mother began, at first, to act the part of consolers, tellingher it might not be true, after all, for perhaps it was a ruse of Mr. Graham's to cover some deep-laid, scheme. But for once in her lifeMrs. Graham did well, and to their astonishment, replied, "Oh, I hopenot, for you do not know how I long for the society of a daughter, and as Mr. Graham's child I shall gladly welcome 'Lena home, trying, if possible, to overlook the vulgarity of her family friends!"

Though wincing terribly, neither Mrs. Livingstone nor her daughterwere to be outgeneraled. If Mrs. Graham could so soon change hertactics, so could they, and for the next half hour they lauded 'Lenato the skies. They had always liked her--particularly Mrs. Livingstone--who said, "If allowed to speak my mind, Mrs. Graham, Imust say that I have felt a good deal pained by those reports whichyou put in circulation. "

"_I_ put reports in circulation!" retorted Mrs. Graham. "What do youmean? It was yourself, madam, as I can prove by the wholeneighborhood!"

The war of words was growing sharper and more personal, when JohnJr. 's appearance put an end to it, and the two ladies, thinking theymight as well be friends as enemies, introduced another topic ofconversation, soon after which Mrs. Graham took her leave. Pausingin the doorway, she said, "Would it afford you any gratification tobe at Woodlawn when 'Lena arrives?"

Knowing that, under the circumstances, it would look better, Mrs. Livingstone said "yes, " while Carrie, thinking Durward would bethere, made a similar reply, saying "she was exceedingly anxious tosee her cousin. "

"Very well. I will let you know when I expect her, " said Mrs. Graham, curtsying herself from the room. 

"Spell _Toady_, Cad, " whispered John Jr. , and with more than herusual quickness, Carrie replied, by doing as he desired. 

"That'll do, " said he, as he walked off to the back yard, where hefound the younger portion of the blacks engaged in a rather novelemployment for them. 

The news of 'Lena's good fortune had reached the kitchen, causingmuch excitement, for she was a favorite there. 

"'Clar for't, " said Aunt Milly, "we orto have a bonfire. It won'thurt nothin' on the brick pavement. "

Accordingly, as it was now dark, the children were set at workgathering blocks, chips, sticks, dried twigs, and leaves, and by thetime John Jr. Appeared, they had collected quite a pile. Not knowinghow he would like it, they all took to their heels, except ThomasJefferson, who, having some of his mother's spirit, stood his ground, replying, when asked what they were about, that they were "gwine tocelebrate Miss 'Lena. " Taking in the whole fun at once, John Jr. Called out, "Good! come back here, you scapegraces. "

Scarcely had he uttered these words, when from behind the lye-leach, the smoke-house and the trees, emerged the little darkies, their eyesand ivories shining with the expected frolic. Taught by John Jr. , they hurrahed at the top of their voices when the flames burst up, and one little fellow, not yet able to talk plain, made his bare, shining legs fly like drumsticks as he shouted, "Huyah for Miss 'LenyYivers Gayum----"

"Bellmont, too, say, " whispered John Jr. , as he saw Carrie on theback piazza. 

"_Bellmont, too, say_, " yelled the youngster, leaping so high as tolose his balance. 

Rolling over the green-sward like a ball, he landed at the feet ofCarrie, who, spurning him as she would a toad, went back to theparlor, where for more than an hour she cried from pure vexation. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

ARRIVAL AT WOODLAWN. 

It was a warm September night at Woodlawn. The windows were open, and through the richly-wrought curtains the balmy air of evening wasstealing, mingling its delicious perfume of flowers without with theodor of those which drooped from the many costly vases which adornedthe handsome parlors. Lamps were burning, casting a mellow lightover the gorgeous furniture, while in robes of snowy white themistress of the mansion flitted from room to room, a little nervous, a little fidgety, and, without meaning to be so, a little cross. Formore than two hours she had waited for her husband, delaying thesupper, which the cook, quite as anxious as herself, pronouncedspoiled by the delay. 

According to promise the party from Maple Grove had arrived, with theexception of John Jr. , who had generously remained with hisgrandmother, she having been purposely omitted in the invitation. From the first, Mrs. Graham had decided that Mrs. Nichols shouldnever live at Woodlawn, and she thought it proper to have itunderstood at once. Accordingly, as she was conducting Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie to 'Lena's room, she casually remarked, "I'vemade no provision for Mrs. Nichols, except as an occasional visitor, for of course she will remain with her son. She is undoubtedly muchattached to your family, and will be happier there!"

"_This_ 'Lena's!" interrupted Carrie, ere her mother had time toreply. "It's the very best chamber in the house--Brussels carpets, marble and rosewood furniture, damask curtains. Why, she'll hardlyknow how to act, " she continued, half unconsciously, as she gazedaround the elegant apartment, which, with one of her unaccountablefreaks, Mrs. Graham had fitted up with the utmost taste. 

"Yes, this is Lena's, " said Mrs. Graham, complacently. "Will itcompare at all with her chamber at Maple Grove? I do not wish it toseem inferior!"

Carrie bit her lip, while her mother very coolly replied, "Ye-es, onthe whole _quite_ as good, perhaps better, as some of the furnitureis new!"

"Have I told you, " continued Mrs. Graham, bent on tormentingthem, --"have I told you that we are to spend the winter in NewOrleans, where 'Lena will of course be the reigning belle? You oughtto be there, dear, " laying her hand on Carrie's shoulder. "It wouldbe so gratifying to you to witness the sensation she will create!"

"Spiteful old thing--she tries to insult us, " thought Carrie, herheart swelling with bitterness toward the ever-hated 'Lena, whosefuture life seemed so bright and joyous. 

The sound of wheels was now heard, and the ladies reached the lowerhall just as the carriage, which had been sent to the station atMidway, drove up at a side door. Carrie's first thought was forDurward, and shading her eyes with her hand, she looked anxiouslyout. But only Mr. Graham alighted, gently lifting out his daughter, who was still an invalid. 

"Mighty careful of her, " thought Mrs. Livingstone, as in his arms hebore her up the marble steps. 

Depositing her in their midst, and placing his arm around her, hesaid, turning to his wife, "Lucy, this is my daughter. Will youreceive and love her as such, for my sake?"

In a moment 'Lena's soft, white hand lay in the fat, chubby one ofMrs. Graham, who kissed her pale cheek, calling her "'Lena, " andsaying "she was welcome to Woodlawn. "

Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie now pressed forward, overwhelming herwith caresses, telling her how badly they had felt at her absence, chiding her for running away, calling her a _naughty puss_, andperfectly bewildering her with their new mode of conduct. Mr. Livingstone's turn came next, but he neither kissed nor caressed her, for that was not in keeping with his nature, but very, very tenderlyhe looked into her eyes, as he said, "You know, 'Lena, that I amglad--most glad for you. "

Unostentatious as was this greeting, 'Lena felt that there was moresincerity in it than all that had gone before, and the tears gushedforth involuntarily. Mentally styling her, the one "a baby, " and theother "a fool, " Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie returned to the parlor, while Mrs. Graham, calling a servant, bade her show 'Lena to her room. 

"Hadn't you better go up and assist your cousin, " whispered Mrs. Livingstone to Carrie, who forthwith departed, knocking at the door, an act of politeness she had never before thought it necessary tooffer 'Lena. But she was an _heiress_, now, fully, yes, more thanequal, and that made a vast difference. 

"I came to see if I could render you any service, " she said in answerto 'Lena's look of inquiry. 

"No I thank you, " returned 'Lena, beginning to get an inkling of thetruth. "You know I'm accustomed to waiting upon myself, and if Iwant anything, Drusa can assist me. I've only to change my soileddress and smooth my hair, " she continued, as she shook out her longand now rather rough tresses. 

"What handsome hair you've got, " said Carrie, taking one of the curlsin her hand. "I'd forgotten it was so beautiful. Hasn't it improvedduring your absence?"

"A course of fever is not usually very beneficial to one's hair, Ibelieve, " answered 'Lena, as she proceeded to brush and arrange herwavy locks, which really had lost some of their luster. 

Foiled in her attempt at toadyism, Carrie took another tack. Looking'Lena in the face, she said, ^What is it? I can't make it out, but--but somehow you've changed, you don't look so--so----"

"So _well_ you would say, I suppose, " returned 'Lena, laughingly, "I've grown thin, but I hope to improve by and by. "

Drusa glanced at the two girls as they stood side by side, and herlarge eyes sparkled as she thought her young mistress "a heap thebest lookin' _now_. "

By this time Carrie had thought to ask for Durward. Instantly 'Lenaturned whiter, if possible, than she was before, and in an unsteadyvoice she replied, that "she did not know. "

"Not know!" repeated Carrie, her own countenance brightening visibly. "Haven't you seen him? Wasn't he at that funny, out-of-the-wayplace, where you were?"

"Yes, but he left before I saw him, " returned 'Lena, her mannerplainly indicating that there was something wrong. 

Carrie's spirits rose. There was a chance for her, and on their waydownstairs she laughed and chatted so familiarly, that 'Lena wonderedif it could be the same haughty girl who had seldom spoken to herexcept to repulse or command her. The supper-bell rang just as theyreached the parlor, and Mr. Graham, taking 'Lena on his arm, led theway to the dining-room, where the entire silver tea-set had beenbrought out, in honor of the occasion. 

"Hasn't 'Lena changed, mother?" said Carrie, feeling hateful, andknowing no better way of showing it "Hasn't her sickness changed her?"

"It has made her grow _old_; that's all the difference I perceive, "returned Mrs. Livingstone, satisfied that she'd said the thing whichshe knew would most annoy herself. 

"How old are you, dear?" asked Mrs. Graham, leaning across the table. 

"Eighteen, " was 'Lena's answer, to which Mrs. Graham replied, "Ithought so. Three years younger than Carrie, I believe. "

"Two, only two, " interrupted Mrs. Livingstone, while Carrieexclaimed, "Horrors! How old do you take me to be?"

Adroitly changing the conversation, Mrs. Graham made no reply, andsoon after they rose from the table. Scarcely had they returned tothe parlor, when John Jr. Was announced. "He had, " he said, "got hisgrandmother to sleep and put her to bed, and now he had come to payhis respects to _Miss Graham_!"

Catching her in his arms, he exclaimed, "Little girl! I'm as muchdelighted with your good fortune as I should b had it happened tomyself. But where is Bellmont?" he continued, looking about the room. 

Mr. Graham replied she that was was not there. 

"Not here?" repeated John Jr. "What have you done with him, 'Lena?"

Lifting her eyes, full of tears, to her cousin's face, 'Lena said, softly, "Please don't talk about it now. "

"There's something wrong, " thought John Jr. "I'll bet I'll have toshoot that dog yet. "

'Lena longed to pour out her troubles to some one, and knowing shecould confide in John Jr. , she soon found an opportunity ofwhispering to him, "Come tomorrow, and I will tell you all about it. "

Between ten and eleven the company departed, Mrs. Livingstone andCarrie taking a most affectionate leave of 'Lena, urging her not tofail of coming over the next day, as they should be expecting her. The ludicrous expression of John Jr. 's face was a sufficientinterpretation of his thoughts, as whispering aside to 'Lena, hesaid, "I can't do it justice if I try!"

The next morning Mr. Graham got out his carriage to carry 'Lena toMaple Grove, asking his wife to accompany them. But she excusedherself, on the plea of a headache, and they set off without her. The meeting between 'Lena and her grandmother was affecting, andCarrie, in order to sustain the character she had assumed, walked tothe window, to hide her emotions, probably--at least John Jr. Thoughtso, for with the utmost gravity he passed her his silk pockethandkerchief! When the first transports of her interview with 'Lenawere over, Mrs. Nichols fastened herself upon Mr. Graham, while JohnJr. Invited 'Lena to the garden, where he claimed from her thepromised story, which she told him unreservedly. 

"Oh, that's nothing, compared with my experience, " said John Jr. , plucking at the rich, purple grapes which hung in heavy clustersabove his head. "That's easily settled. I'll go after Durwardmyself, and bring him back, either dead or alive--the latter ifpossible, the former if necessary. So cheer up. I've faith tobelieve that you and Durward will be married about the same time thatNellie and I are. We are engaged--did I tell you?"

Involuntarily 'Lena's eyes wandered in the direction of the sunnyslope and the little grave, as yet but nine months made. 

"I know what you think, " said John Jr. Rather testily, "but hang meif I can help it. Meb was never intended for me, except by mother. I suppose there is in the world somebody for whom she was made, butit wasn't I, and that's the reason she died. I am sorry as anybody, and every night in my life I think of poor Meb, who loved me so well, and who met with so poor a return. I've bought her some gravestones, though, " he continued, as if that were an ample atonement for thepast. 

While they were thus occupied, Mr. Graham was discussing with Mrs. Nichols the propriety of her removing to Woodlawn. 

"I shan't live long to trouble anybody, " said she when asked if shewould like to go, "and I'm nothin' without 'Leny. "

So it was arranged that she should go with him, and when 'Lenareturned to the house, she found her grandmother in her chamber, packing up, preparatory to her departure. 

"We'll have to come agin, " said she, "for I've as much as two loads. "

"Don't take them, " interposed 'Lena. "You won't need them, andnothing will harm them here. "

After a little, grandma was persuaded, and her last charge to Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie was, "that they keep the dum niggers from herthings. "

Habit with Mrs. Nichols was everything. She had lived at Maple Grovefor years, and every niche and corner of her room she understood. She knew the blacks and they knew her, and ere she was half-way toWoodlawn, she began to wish she had not started. Politely, butcoldly, Mrs. Graham received her, saying "I thought, perhaps, youwould return with them to _spend the day_!" laying great emphasis onthe last words, as if that, of course, was to be the limit of hervisit Grandma understood it, and it strengthened her resolution ofnot remaining long. 

"Miss Graham don't want to be pestered with me, " said she to 'Lena, the first time they were alone, "and I don't mean that she shall be. 'Tilda is used to me, and she don't mind it now, so I shall go backafore long. You can come to see me every day, and once in a whileI'll come here. "

That afternoon a heavy rain came on, and Mrs. Graham remarked to Mrs. Nichols that "she hoped she was not homesick, as there was everyprobability of her being obliged to _stay over night_!" adding, byway of comfort, that "she was going to Frankfort the next day to makepurchases for 'Lena, and would take her home. "

Accordingly, the next morning Mrs. Livingstone was not very agreeablysurprised by the return of her mother-in-law, who, Mrs. Graham said, "was so home-sick they couldn't keep her. "

That night when Mrs. Graham, who was naturally generous, returnedfrom the city, she left at Maple Grove a large bundle for grandma, consisting of dresses, aprons, caps, and the like, which she hadpurchased as a sort or peace-offering, or reward, rather, for herhaving decamped so quietly from Woodlawn. But the poor old lady didnot live to wear them. Both her mind and body were greatly impaired, and for two or three years she had been failing gradually. There wasno particular disease, but a general breaking up of the springs oflife, and a few weeks after 'Lena's arrival at Woodlawn, they madeanother grave on the sunny slope, and Mabel no longer slept alone. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

DURWARD. 

From place to place and from scene to scene Durward had hurried, caring nothing except to forget, if possible, the past, and knowingnot where he was going, until he at last found himself in Richmond, Virginia. This was his mother's birthplace, and as several of hermore distant relatives were still living here, he determined to stopfor awhile, hoping that new objects and new scenes would have somepower to rouse him from the lethargy into which he had fallen. Constantly in terror lest he should hear of 'Lena's disgrace, whichhe felt sure would be published to the world, he had, since hisdeparture from Laurel Hill, resolutely refrained from looking in anewspaper, until one morning some weeks after his arrival at Richmond. 

Entering a reading-room, he caught up the Cincinnati Gazette, andafter assuring himself by a hasty glance that it did not contain whathe so much dreaded to see, he sat down to read it, paying noattention to the date, which was three or four weeks back. Accidentally he cast his eye over the list of arrivals at the BurnetHouse, seeing among them the names of "Mr. H. R. Graham, and Miss L. R. Graham, Woodford county, Kentucky!"

"_Audacious_! How dare they be so bold!" he exclaimed, springing tohis feet and tearing the paper in fragments, which he scattered uponthe floor. 

"Considerable kind of uppish, 'pears to me, " said a strange voice, having in its tone the nasal twang peculiar to a certain class ofYankees. 

Looking up, Durward saw before him a young man in whose style ofdress and freckled face we at once recognize Joel Slocum. Wearyingof Cincinnati, as he had before done with Lexington, he had traveledat last to Virginia. Remembering to have heard that hisgrandmother's aunt had married, died, and left a daughter inRichmond, he determined, if possible, to find some trace of her. Accordingly, he had come on to that city, making it the theater ofhis daguerrean operations. These alone not being sufficient tosupport him, he had latterly turned his attention to _literarypursuits_, being at present engaged in manufacturing a book after theSam Slick order, which, to use his own expression, "he expected wouldhave a thunderin' sale. "

In order to sustain the new character which he had assumed, he cameevery day to the reading-room, tumbling over books and papers, generally carrying one of the former in his hand, affecting an utterdisregard of his personal appearance, daubing his fingers with ink, wiping them on the pocket of his coat, and doing numerous otherthings which he fancied would stamp him a distinguished person. 

On the morning of which we have spoken, Joel's attention wasattracted toward Durward, whose daguerreotype he had seen at MapleGrove, and though he did not recognize the original, he fancied hemight have met him before, and was about making his acquaintance, when Durward's action drew from him the remark we have mentioned. Thinking him to be some impertinent fellow, Durward paid him noattention, and was about leaving, when, hitching his chair a littlenearer, Joel said, "Be you from Virginny?"

"No. "

"From York state?"

"No. "

"From Pennsylvany?"

"No. "

"Mebby, then, you are from Kentucky?"

No answer. 

"Be you from Kentucky?"

"Yes. "

"Do you know Mr. Graham's folks?"

"Yes, " said Durward, trembling lest the next should be somethingconcerning his stepfather--but it was not. 

Settling himself a little further back in the chair, Joel continued:"Wall, I calkerlate that I'm some relation to Miss Graham. Be you'quainted with her?"

Durward knew that a relationship with _Mrs_. Graham also implied arelationship with himself, and feeling a little curious as well assomewhat amused, he replied, "Related to Mrs. Graham! Pray how?"

"Why, you see, " said Joel, "that my grandmarm's aunt--she was youngerthan grandmarm, and was her aunt tew. Wall, she went off to Virginiato teach music, and so married a nabob--know what that is, I s'pose;she had one gal and died, and this gal was never heard from until Itook it into my head to look her up, and I've found out that she was_Lucy Temple_. She married an Englishman, first--then a man fromSouth Carolina, who is now livin' in Kentucky, between Versailles andFrankfort. "

"What was your grandmother's aunt's name?" asked Durward. 

"Susan Howard, " returned Joel. "The Howards were a stuck-up set, grandmarm and all--not a bit like t'other side of the family. Mymother's name was Scovandyke----"

"And yours?" interrupted Durward. 

"Is Joel Slocum, of Slocumville, Massachusetts, at your service, "said the young man, rising up and going through a most wonderful bow, which he always used on great occasions. 

In a moment Durward knew who he was, and greatly amused, he said, "Can you tell me, Mr. Slocum, what relation this Lucy Temple, yourgreat-great-aunt's daughter, would be to you?"

"My third cousin, of course, " answered Joel. "I figgered that outwith a slate and pencil. "

"And her son, if she had one?"

"Would be my fourth cousin; no great connection, to be sure--butenough to brag on, if they happened to be smart!"

"Supposing I tell you what I am Lucy Temple's son?" said Durward, towhich Joel, not the least suspicious, replied, "Wall, s'posin' youdu, 'twon't make it so. "

"But I _am_, really and truly, " continued Durward. "Her firsthusband was a Bellmont, and I am Durward Bellmont, your fourthcousin, it seems. "

"_Jehosiphat_! If this ain't curis, " exclaimed Joel, graspingDurward's hand. "How _do_ you du, and how is your marm. And do youknow Helleny Rivers?"

Durward's brow darkened as he replied in the affirmative, while Joelcontinued: "We are from the same town, and used to think a sight ofeach other, but when I seen her in Kentucky, I thought she'd got tobe mighty toppin'. Mebby, though, 'twas only my notion. "

Durward did not answer, and after a little his companion said, "Isuppose you know I sometimes take pictures for a livin'. I'm goin'to my office now, and if you'll come with me I'll take yourn fornothin', bein' you're related. "

Mechanically, and because he had nothing else to do, Durward followedthe young man to his "office, " which was a dingy, cheerless apartmentin the fourth story of a crazy old building. On the table in thecenter of the room were several likenesses, which he carelesslyexamined. Coming at last to a larger and richer case, he opened it, but instantly it dropped from his hand, while an exclamation ofsurprise escaped his lips. 

"What's the row, old feller, " asked Joel, coming forward and pickingup the picture which Durward had recognized as 'Lena Rivers. 

"How came you by it?" said Durward eagerly, and with a knowing wink, Joel replied, "I know, and that's enough. "

"But I must know, too. It is of the utmost importance that I know, "said Durward, and after a moment's reflection, Joel answered "Wall, I don't s'pose it'll do any hurt if I tell you. When I was a boy Ihad a hankerin' for 'Leny, and I didn't get over it after I wasgrown, either, so a year or two ago I thought I'd go to Kentuck andsee her. Knowin' how tickled she and Mrs. Nichols would be with apicter of their old home in the mountains, I took it for 'em andstarted. In Albany I went to see a family that used to live inSlocumville. The woman was a gal with 'Leny's mother, and thought asight of her. Wall, in the chamber where they put me to sleep, wasan old portrait, which looked so much like 'Leny that in the mornin'I asked whose it was, and if you b'lieve me, 'twas 'Leny's mother!You know she married, or thought she married, a southern rascal, whogot her portrait taken and then run off, and the picter, which in itsday was an expensive one, was sold to pay up. A few years afterward, Miss Rice, the woman I was tellin' you about, came acrost it, andbought it for a little or nothin' to remember Helleny Nichols by. Thinks to me, nothin' can please 'Leny better than a daguerreotype ofher mother, so I out with my apparatus and took it. But when I cometo see that they were as nigh alike as two peas, I hated to give itup, for I thought it would be almost as good as lookin' at 'Leny. SoI kept it myself, but I don't want her to know it, for she'd be mad. "

"Did you ever take a copy of this for any one?" asked Durward, afaint light beginning to dawn upon him. 

"What a feller to hang on, " answered Joel, "but bein' I've started, I'll go it and tell the hull. One morning when I was in Lexington, agentleman came in, calling himself Mr. Graham, and saying he wanted acopy of an old mountain house which he had seen at Mr. Livingstone's. Whilst I was gettin' it ready, he happened to come acrost this one, and what is the queerest of all, he like to fainted away. I had tothrow water in his face and everything. Bimeby he cum to, and sayshe, 'Where did you get that?' I told him all about it, and then, layin' his head on the table, he groaned orfully, wipin' off thethumpinest great drops of sweat and kissin' the picter as if he wascrazy. 

"'Mebby you knew Helleny Nichols?' says I. 

"'Knew her, yes, ' says he, jumpin' up and walkin' the room as fast. 

"All to once he grew calm, just as though nothin' had happened, andsays he, 'I must have that or one jest like it. '

"At first I hesitated, for I felt kinder mean always about keepin'it, and I didn't want 'Leny to know I'd got it. I told him so, andhe said nobody but himself should ever see it. So I took a smallerone, leavin' off the lower part of the body, as the dress isold-fashioned, you see. He was as tickled as a boy with a new top, and actually forgot to take the other one of the mountain house. Some months after, I came across him in Cincinnati. His wife waswith him, and I thought then that she looked like Aunt Nancy. Wall, he went with me to my office, and said he wanted anotherdaguerreotype, as he'd lost the first one. Now I'm, pretty good atfiggerin', and I've thought that matter over until I've come to thisconclusion--_that man_--was--'Lena's father--the husband or somethingof Helleny Nichols! But what ails you? Are you faintin', too, " heexclaimed, as he saw the death-like whiteness which had settled uponDurward's face and around his mouth. 

"Tell me more, everything you know, " gasped Durward. 

"I have told you all I know for certain, " said Joel. "The rest isonly guess-work, but it looks plaguy reasonable. 'Leny's father, I've heard was from South Car'lina----"

"So was Mr. Graham, " said Durward, more to himself than to Joel, whocontinued, "And he's your step-father, ain't he--the husband of LucyTemple, my cousin?"

Durward nodded, and as a customer just then came in, he arose to go, telling Joel he would see him again. Alone in his room, he sat downto think of the strange story he had heard. Gradually as he thought, his mind went back to the time when Mr. Graham first came home fromSpringfield. He was a little boy, then, five or six years of age, but he now remembered many things calculated to prove what hescarcely yet dared to hope. He recalled Mr. Graham's preparations toreturn, when he was taken suddenly ill. He knew that immediatelyatter his recovery he had gone northward. He remembered how sad hehad seemed after his return, neglecting to play with him as had beenhis wont, and when to this he added Joel's story, together with thesingularity of his father's conduct towards 'Lena, he could not failto be convinced. 

"She _is_ innocent, thank heaven! I see it all now. Fool that I wasto be so hasty, " he exclaimed, his whole being seemed to undergo asudden change as the joyous conviction flashed upon him. 

In his excitement he forgot his promise of again seeing Joel Slocum, and ere the sun-setting he was far on his road home. Occasionally hefelt a lingering doubt, as he wondered what possible motive hisfather could have had for concealment, but these wore away as thedistance between himself and Kentucky diminished. As the trainpaused at one of the stations, he was greatly surprised at seeingJohn Jr. Among the crowd gathered at the depot. 

"Livingstone, Livingstone, how came you here?" shouted Durward, leaning from the open window. 

The cars were already in motion, but at the risk of his life John Jr. Bounded upon the platform, and was soon seated by the side of Durward. 

"You are a great one, ain't you?" said he. "Here I've been lookingfor you all over Christendom, to tell you the news. You've got a newsister. Did you know it?"

"'_Lena_! Is it true? _Is_ it 'Lena?" said Durward, and Johnreplied by relating the particulars as far as he knew them, andending by asking Durward if "he didn't think he was sold!"

"Don't talk, " answered Durward. "I want to think, for I was never sohappy in my life. "

"Nor I either, " returned John Jr. "So if you please you needn'tspeak to _me_, as I wish to think, too. "

But John Jr. Could not long keep still, he must tell his companion ofhis engagement with Nellie--and he did, falling asleep soon after, and leaving Durward to his own reflections. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

We hope the reader does not expect us to describe the meeting betweenDurward and 'Lena, for we have not the least, or, at the most, only afaint idea of what took place. We only know that it occurred in thesummer-house at the foot of the garden, whither 'Lena had fled at thefirst intimation of his arrival, and that on her return to the house, after an interview of two whole hours, there were on her cheekstraces of tears, which the expression of her face said were not tearsof grief. 

"How do you like my daughter?" asked Mr. Graham, mischievously, atthe same time laying his arm proudly about her neck. 

"So well that I have asked her to become my wife, and she haspromised to do so, provided we obtain your consent, " answeredDurward, himself throwing an arm around the blushing girl, who triedto escape, but he would not let her, holding her fast until hisfather's answer was given. 

Then turning to Mrs. Graham, he said, "Now, mother, we will hear you. "

Kind and affectionate as she tried to be toward 'Lena, Mrs. Grahamhad not yet fully conquered her olden prejudice, and had the matterbeen left wholly with herself, she would, perhaps, have chosen forher son a bride in whose veins _no plebeian blood_ was flowing; butshe well knew that her objections would have no weight, and sheanswered, that "she should not oppose him. "

"Then it is settled, " said he, "and four weeks from to-night I shallclaim 'Lena for my own. "

"No, not so soon after grandma's death, " 'Lena said, and Durwardreplied:

"If grandma could speak, she would tell you not to wait!" but 'Lenawas decided, and the most she would promise was, that in the springshe would think about it!

"Six months, " said Durward, "I'll never wait so long!" but he forborepressing her further on the subject, knowing that he should have herin the house with him, which would in a great measure relieve thetedium of waiting. 

During the autumn, his devotion to 'Lena furnished Carrie with asubject for many ill-natured remarks concerning newly-engaged people. 

"I declare, " said she, one evening after the departure of Durward, 'Lena, and Nellie, who had been spending the day at Maple Grove, "I'mperfectly disgusted, and if this is a specimen, I hope I shall neverbe engaged. "

"Don't give yourself a moment's uneasiness, " retorted John Jr. , "I'venot the least idea that such a calamity will ever befall you, andyears hence my grandchildren will read on some gravestone, 'Sacred tothe memory of Miss Caroline Livingstone, aged 70. In singleblessedness she lived--and in the same did die!'"

"You think you are cunning, don't you, " returned Carrie, more angrythan she was willing to admit. 

She had received the news of Durward's engagement much better thancould have been expected, and after a little she took to quoting andcousining 'Lena, while John Jr. Seldom let an opportunity pass ofhinting at the very recent date Of her admiration for Miss Graham. 

Almost every day for several weeks after Durward's return, he lookedfor a visit from Joel Slocum, who did not make his appearance untilsome time toward the last of November. Then he came, claiming, and_proving_, his relationship with Mrs. Graham, who was terriblyannoyed, and who, it was rumored, _hired_ him to leave!

During the winter, nothing of importance occurred, if we except thefact that a part of Mabel's fortune, which was supposed to have beenlost, was found to be good, and that John Jr. One day unexpectedlyfound himself to be the lawful heir of fifty thousand dollars. UponMrs. Livingstone this circumstance produced a rather novel effect, renewing, in its original force, all her old affection for Mabel, whowas now "our dear little Meb. " Many were the comparisons drawnbetween Mrs. John Jr. No. 1, and Mrs. John Jr. No. 2, that was to be, the former being pronounced far more lady-like and accomplished thanthe latter, who, during her frequent visits at Maple Grove, continually startled her mother-in-law elect by her loud, ringinglaugh, for Nellie was very happy. Her influence, too, over John Jr. Became ere long, perceptible in his quiet, gentle manner, and hisabstinence from the rude speeches which heretofore had seemed a partof his nature. 

Mrs. Graham had proposed spending the winter in New Orleans, but tothis Durward objected. He wanted 'Lena all to himself, he said, andas she seemed perfectly satisfied to remain where she was, theproject was given up, Mrs. Graham contenting herself withanticipating the splendid entertainment she would give at thewedding, which was to take place about the last of March. Toward thefirst of January the preparations began, and if Carrie had neverbefore felt a pang of envy, she did now, when she saw the eleganttrousseau which Mr. Graham ordered for his daughter. But all suchfeelings must be concealed, and almost every day she rode over toWoodlawn, admiring this, going into ecstasies over that, andpatronizingly giving her advice on all subjects, while all the timeher heart was swelling with bitter disappointment. Having alwaysfelt so sure of securing Durward, she had invariably treated othergentlemen with such cool indifference that she was a favorite withbut few, and as she considered these few her inferiors, she had morethan once feared lest John Jr. 's prediction concerning the_lettering_ on her tombstone should prove true!

"Anything but that, " said she, dashing away her tears, as she thoughthow 'Lena had supplanted her in the affections of the only person shecould ever love, "Old Marster Atherton done want to see you in the parlor, " saidCorinda, putting her head in at the door. 

Since his unfortunate affair with Anna, the captain had avoided MapleGrove, but feeling lonely at Sunnyside, he had come over this morningto call. Finding Mrs. Livingstone absent, he had asked for Carrie, who was so unusually gracious that he wondered he had never beforediscovered how greatly superior to her sister she was! All hisfavorite pieces were sung to him, and then, with the patience of amartyr, the young lady seated herself at the backgammon board, playing game after game, until she could scarcely tell her men fromhis. On his way home the captain fell into a curious train ofreflections, while Carrie, when asked by Corinda, if "old marster wasdone gone, " sharply reprimanded the girl, telling her "it was veryimpolite to call anybody _old_, particularly one so young as CaptainAtherton!"

The next day the captain came again, and the next, and the next, until at last his former intimacy at Maple Grove seemed to bere-established. And all this time no one had an inkling of the truestate of things, not even John Jr. , who never dreamed it possible forhis haughty sister, to grace Sunnyside as its mistress. "Butstranger things than that had happened and were happening every day, "Carrie reasoned, as she sat alone in her room, revolving thepropriety of answering "Yes" to a note which the captain had thatmorning placed in her hand at parting. She looked at herself in themirror. Her face was very fair, and as yet untouched by a singlemark or line. She thought of him, _bald_, _wrinkled_, _fat_ and_forty-six_!

"I'll never do it, " she exclaimed. "Better live single all my days. "

At this moment, the carriage of Mrs. Graham drew up, and from italighted 'Lena, richly clad. The sight of her produced a reaction, and Carrie thought again. Captain Atherton was generous to a fault. He was able and willing to grant her slightest wish, and as his wife, she could compete with, if not outdo, 'Lena in the splendor of hersurroundings. The pen was resumed, and Carrie wrote the words whichsealed her destiny for life. This done, nothing could move her, andthough her father entreated, her mother scolded, and John Jr. _swore_, it made no difference. "She was old enough to choose forherself, " she said, "and she had done so. "

When Mrs. Livingstone became convinced that her daughter was inearnest, she gave up the contest, taking sides with her. LikeDurward, Captain Atherton was in a hurry, and it was decided that thewedding should take place a week before the time appointed for thatof her cousin. Determining not to be outdone by Mrs. Graham, Mrs. Livingstone launched forth on a large scale, and there commencedbetween the two houses a species of rivalry extremely amusing to alooker on. Did Mrs. Graham purchase for 'Lena a costly silk, Mrs. Livingstone forthwith secured a piece of similar quality, butdifferent pattern, for Carrie. Did Mrs. Graham order forty dollars'worth of confectionery, Mrs. Livingstone immediately increased herorder to fifty dollars. And when it was known that Mrs. Graham hadengaged a Louisville French cook at two dollars per day, Mrs. Livingstone sent to Cincinnati, offering three for one!

Carrie had decided upon a tour to Europe, and the captain had givenhis consent, when it was reported that Durward and 'Lena were alsointending to sail for Liverpool. In this dilemma there was noalternative save a trip to California or the Sandwich Islands! Theformer was chosen, Captain Atherton offering to defray Mrs. Livingstone's expenses if she would accompany them. This plan Carriewarmly seconded, for she knew her mother's presence would greatlyrelieve her from the society of her husband, which was _not_ asagreeable to her as it ought to have been. But Mr. Livingstonerefused to let his wife go, unless Anna came home and stayed with himwhile she was gone. 

He accordingly wrote to Anna, inviting her and Malcolm to be presentat Carrie's wedding, purposely omitting the name of the bridegroom;and three days before the appointed time they came. It was dark whenthey arrived, and as they were not expected that night, they enteredthe house before any one was aware of their presence. John Jr. Chanced to be in the hall, and the moment he saw Anna, he caught herin his arms, shouting so uproariously that his father and mother atonce hastened to the spot. 

"Will you forgive me, father ?" Anna said, and Mr. Livingstonereplied by clasping her to his bosom, while he extended his hand toMalcolm. 

"Where's Carrie?" Anna said, and John Jr. Replied, "In the parlor, with her future spouse. Shall I introduce you?"

So saying, he dragged her into the parlor, where she then recoiled interror as she saw Captain Atherton. 

"Oh, Carrie!" she exclaimed. "It cannot be----that I see you again!"she added, as she met her sister's warning look. 

Another moment and they were in each other's arms weeping bitterly, the one that her sister should thus throw herself away, and theother, because she was wretched. It was but for an instant, however, and then Carrie was herself again. Playfully presenting Anna to theCaptain, she said, "Ain't I good to take up with what you left!"

But no one smiled at this joke--the captain, least of all, and asCarrie glanced from him to Malcolm, she felt that her sister had madea happy choice. The next day 'Lena came, overjoyed to meet Anna, whomore than any one else, rejoiced in her good fortune. 

"You deserve it all, " she said, when they were alone, "and if Carriehad one tithe of your happiness in store I should be satisfied. "

But Carrie asked for no sympathy. "It was no one's business whom shemarried, " she said; and so one pleasant night in the early spring, they decked her in her bridal robes, and then, white, cold, andfeelingless as a marble statue, she laid her hand in CaptainAtherton's, and took upon her the vows which made her his forever. Afew days after the ceremony, Carrie began to urge their immediatedeparture for California. 

"There was no need of further delay, " she said. "No one cared to see'Lena married. Weddings were stupid things, anyway, and her mothercould just as well go one time as another. "

At first Mrs. Livingstone hesitated, but when Carrie burst into apassionate fit of weeping, declaring "she'd kill herself if she hadto stay much longer at Sunnyside and be petted by _that old fool_, "she consented, and one week from the day of the marriage theystarted. In Carrie's eyes there was already a look of weary sadness, which said that the bitter tears were constantly welling up, while onher brow a shadow was resting, as if Sunnyside were a greater burdenthan she could bear. Alas, for a union without love! It seldomfails to end in misery, and thus poor Carrie found it. Her husbandwas proud of her, and, had she permitted, would have loved her afterhis fashion, but his affectionate advances were invariably repulsed, until at last he treated her with a cold politeness, far moreendurable than his fawning attentions had been. She was welcome togo her own way, and he went his, each having in San Francisco theirown suite of rooms, and setting up, as it were, a separateestablishment. In this way they got on quite comfortably for a fewweeks, at the end of which time Carrie took it into her capricioushead to return to Maple Grove. She would never go back to Sunnyside, she said. And without a word of opposition the captain paid hisbills, and started for Kentucky, where he left his wife at MapleGrove, she giving as a reason that "ma could not spare her yet. "

Far different from this were the future prospects of Durward and'Lena, who with perfect love in their hearts were married, a weekafter the departure of Captain Atherton for California. Very proudlyDurward looked down upon her as he placed the first husband's kiss onher brow, and in the soft brown eyes, brimming with tears, which sheraised to his face, there was a world of tenderness, telling thattheirs was a union of hearts as well as hands. 

The next night a small party assembled at the house of Mr. Douglass, in Frankfort, where Nellie was transformed into Nellie Livingstone. Perhaps it was the remembrance of the young girl to whom his vows hadonce before been plighted, that made John Jr. Appear for a time as ifhe were in a dream. But the moment they rallied him upon thestrangeness of his manner, he brightened up, saying that he wastrying to get used to thinking that Nellie was really his. It hadbeen decided that he should accompany Durward and 'Lena to Europe, and a day or two after his marriage he asked Mr. Everett to go too. Anna's eyes fairly danced with joy, as she awaited Malcolm's reply. But much as he would like to go, he could not afford it, and so hefrankly said, kissing away the big tear which rolled down Anna'scheek. 

With a smile John Jr. Placed a sealed package in his sister's hand, saying to Malcolm, "I have anticipated this and provided for it. Isuppose you are aware that Mabel willed me all her property, whichcontrary to our expectations, has proved to be considerable. I knowI do not deserve a cent of it, but as she had no nearer relative thanMr. Douglass, I have concluded to use it for the comfort of hisdaughter and for the good of others. I want you and Anna to join us, and I've given her such a sum as will bear your expenses, and leaveyou more than you can earn dickering at law for three or four years. So, puss, " turning to Anna, "it's all settled. Now hurrah for thesunny skies of France and Italy, I've talked with father about it, and he's willing to stay alone for the sake of having you go. Oh, don't thank me, " he continued, as he saw them about to speak. "It'spoor little Meb to whom you are indebted. She loved Anna, and wouldwillingly have her money used for this purpose. "

After a little reflection Malcolm concluded to accept John's offer, and a happier party never stepped on board a steamer than that which, on the 15th of April, sailed for Europe, which they reached insafety, being at the last accounts in Paris, where they were enjoyingthemselves immensely. 

A few words more, and our story is told. Just as Mr. Livingstone wasgetting tolerably well suited with his bachelor life, he was onemorning surprised by the return of his wife and daughter, the latterof whom, as we have before stated, took up her abode at Maple Grove. Almost every day the old captain rides over to see her, but hegenerally carries back a longer face than he brings. The bald spoton his head is growing larger, and to her dismay Carrie hasdiscovered a "crow track" in the corner of her eye. Frequently, after a war of words with her mother, she announces her intention ofreturning to Sunnyside, but a sight of the captain is sufficient tobanish all such thoughts. And thus she lives, that most wretched ofall beings, an unloving and unloved wife. 

During the absence of their children, Mr. And Mrs. Graham remain atWoodlawn, which, as it is the property of Durward, will be his ownand 'Lena's home. 

Jerry Langley has changed his occupation of driver for that of abrakeman on the railroad between Canandaigua and Niagara Falls. 

In conclusion we will say of our old friend, Uncle Timothy, that hejoined "the _Hindews_" as proposed, was nominated for constable, and, sure of success, bought an old gig for the better transportation ofhimself over the town. But alas for human hopes--if funded uponpolitics--the whole American ticket was defeated at Laurel Hill, since which time he has gone over to the Republicans, to whom he hassworn eternal allegiance. 

THE END