[Illustration: "LET ME OPEN THE BURR FOR YOU. "Chestnut Burr. _Frontispiece. _]

The Works of E. P. RoeVOLUME FOUR

OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR

ILLUSTRATED

THIS BOOK

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO MY WIFE

PREFACE

In sending this, my fourth venture, out upon the uncertain waters ofpublic opinion, I shall say but few words of preface. In the past Ihave received considerable well-deserved criticism from the gentlemenof the caustic pen, but so far from having any hard feeling towardthem, I have rather wondered that they found so much to say that wasfavorable. How they will judge this simple October story (if theythink it worth while to judge it at all) I leave to the future, andturn to those for whom the book was really written. 

In fancy I see them around the glowing hearth in quiet homes, such asI have tried to describe in the following pages, and hope that thisnew-comer will be welcomed for the sake of those that preceded it. Possibly it may make friends of its own. 

From widely separated parts of the country, and from almost everyclass, I have received many and cordial assurances that my formerbooks were sources not only of pleasure, but also of help and benefit, and I am deeply grateful for the privilege of unobtrusively enteringso many households, and saying words on that subject which isinseparable from happiness in both worlds. 

I think the purpose of the book will become apparent to the reader. The incidents and characters are mainly imaginary. 

Observation has shown me that there are many in the world, like myhero, whose condition can be illustrated by the following lines:

 Were some great ship all out of stores, When half-way o'er the sea, Fit emblem of too many lives, Such vessel doomed would be. 

Must there not be something fatally wrong in that scheme of life whichfinds an heir of eternity weary, listless, discouraged, while yet inthe dawning of existence? It is not in perishing _things_, merely, togive back the lost zest. But a glad zest and hopefulness might beinspired even in the most jaded and _ennui_-cursed, were there in ourhomes such simple, truthful natures as that of my heroine; and in thesphere of quiet homes--not elsewhere--I believe that woman can bestrule and save the world. 

Highland Falls, N. Y. , September, 1874. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER IA HERO BUT NOT HEROIC

CHAPTER IIOPENING A CHESTNUT BURR

CHAPTER IIIMORBID BROODING

CHAPTER IVHOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE

CHAPTER VWAS IT AN ACCIDENT?

CHAPTER VIUNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS

CHAPTER VIIA CONSPIRACY

CHAPTER VIIIWITCHCRAFT

CHAPTER IXMISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY

CHAPTER XA PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON

CHAPTER XIA DRINKING SONG AT A PRAYER-MEETING

CHAPTER XIIFOILED IN ONE DIRECTION

CHAPTER XIIIINTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS

CHAPTER XIVA WELL-MEANIN' MAN

CHAPTER XVMISS WALTON'S DREAM

CHAPTER XVIAN ACCIDENT IN THE MOUNTAINS

CHAPTER XVIIPROMISE OR DIE

CHAPTER XVIIIIN THE DEPTHS

CHAPTER XIXMISS WALTON MADE OF DIFFERENT CLAY FROM OTHERS

CHAPTER XXMISS WALTON MADE OF ORDINARY CLAY

CHAPTER XXIPASSION AND PENITENCE

CHAPTER XXIINOT A HEROINE BUT A WOMAN

CHAPTER XXIIIGREGORY'S FINAL CONCLUSION

CHAPTER XXIVTHE WORM-INFESTED CHESTNUT--GREGORY TELLS THE WORST

CHAPTER XXVTHE OLD HOME IN DANGER--GREGORY RETRIEVES HIMSELF

CHAPTER XXVICHANGES IN GREGORY

CHAPTER XXVIIPLEADING FOR LIFE AND LOVE

CHAPTER XXVIIIWHAT A LOVER COULD DO

CHAPTER XXIXDEEPENING SHADOWS

CHAPTER XXXKEPT FROM THE EVIL

CHAPTER XXXILIVE! LIVE! ANNIE'S APPEAL

CHAPTER XXXIIAT SEA--A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER

CHAPTER XXXIIIA COLLISION AT SEA--WHAT A CHRISTIAN COULD DO

CHAPTER XXXIVUNMASKED

CHAPTER XXXVA CHESTNUT BURR AND A HOME

CHAPTER I

A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC

"Shall I ever be strong in mind or body again?" said Walter Gregory, with irritation, as he entered a crowded Broadway omnibus. 

The person thus querying so despairingly with himself was a man notfar from thirty years of age, but the lines of care were furrowed sodeeply on his handsome face, that dismal, lowering morning, the firstof October, that he seemed much older. Having wedged himself inbetween two burly forms that suggested thrift down town and good cheeron the avenue, he appears meagre and shrunken in contrast. He is talland thin. His face is white and drawn, instead of being ruddy withhealth's rich, warm blood. There is scarcely anything remaining toremind one of the period of youth, so recently vanished; neither isthere the dignity, nor the consciousness of strength, that should comewith maturer years. His heavy, light-colored mustache and pallid facegave him the aspect of a _blase_ man of the world who had exhaustedhimself and life at an age when wisely directed manhood should be justentering on its richest pleasures. 

And such an opinion of him, with some hopeful exceptions andindications, would be correct. The expression of irritation and self-disgust still remaining on his face as the stage rumbles down town isa hopeful sign. His soul at least is not surrounded by a Chinese wallof conceit. However perverted his nature may be, it is not a shallowone, and he evidently has a painful sense of the wrongs committedagainst it. Though his square jaw and the curve of his lip indicatefirmness, one could not look upon his contracted brow and half-despairing expression, as he sits oblivious of all surroundings, without thinking of a ship drifting helplessly and in distress. Thereare encouraging possibilities in the fact that from those windows ofthe soul, his eyes, a troubled rather than an evil spirit looks out. Aclose observer would see at a glance that he was not a good man, buthe might also note that he was not content with being a bad one. Therewas little of the rigid pride and sinister hardness or the conceitoften seen on the faces of men of the world who have spent years inspoiling their manhood; and the sensual phase of coarse dissipationwas quite wanting. 

You will find in artificial metropolitan society many men soemasculated that they are quite vain of being blase--fools that withconscious superiority smile disdainfully at those still possessingsimple, wholesome tastes for things which they in their indescribableaccent characterize as a "bore. "

But Walter Gregory looked like one who had early found the dregs ofevil life very bitter, and his face was like that of nature whensmitten with untimely frosts. 

He reached his office at last, and wearily sat down to the routinework at his desk. Instead of the intent and interested look with whicha young and healthy man would naturally enter on his business, heshowed rather a dogged resolution to work whether he felt like it ornot, and with harsh disregard of his physical weakness. 

The world will never cease witnessing the wrongs that men commitagainst each other; but perhaps if the wrongs and cruelties thatpeople inflict on themselves could be summed up the painful aggregatewould be much larger. 

As Gregory sat bending over his writing, rather from weakness thanfrom a stooping habit, his senior partner came in, and was evidentlystruck by the appearance of feebleness on the part of the young man. The unpleasant impression haunted him, for having looked over hisletters he came out of his private office and again glanced uneasilyat the colorless face, which gave evidence that only sheer force ofwill was spurring a failing hand and brain to their tasks. 

At last Mr. Burnett came and laid his hand on his junior partner'sshoulder, saying, kindly, "Come, Gregory, drop your work. You are ill. The strain upon you has been too long and severe. The worst is overnow, and we are going to pull through better than I expected. Don'ttake the matter so bitterly to heart. I admit myself that theoperation promised well at first. You were misled, and so were we all, by downright deception. That the swindle was imposed on us through youwas more your misfortune than your fault, and it will make you akeener business man in the future. You have worked like a galley-slaveall summer to retrieve matters, and have taken no vacation at all. Youmust take one now immediately, or you will break down altogether. Gooff to the woods; fish, hunt, follow your fancies; and the bracingOctober air will make a new man of you. "

"I thank you very much, " Gregory began. "I suppose I do need rest. Ina few days, however, I can leave better--"

"No, " interrupted Mr. Burnett, with hearty emphasis; "drop everything. As soon as you finish that letter, be off. Don't show your face hereagain till November. "

"I thank you for your interest in me, " said Gregory, rising. "Indeed, I believe it would be good economy, for if I don't feel better soon Ishall be of no use here or anywhere else. "

"That's it, " said old Mr. Burnett, kindly. "Sick and blue, they gotogether. Now be off to the woods, and send me some game. I won'tinquire too sharply whether you brought it down with lead or silver. "

Gregory soon left the office, and made his arrangements to start onhis trip early the next morning. His purpose was to make a brief visitto the home of his boyhood and then to go wherever a vagrant fancymight lead. 

The ancestral place was no longer in his family, though he was sparedthe pain of seeing it in the hands of strangers. It had been purchaseda few years since by an old and very dear friend of his deceasedfather--a gentleman named Walton. It had so happened that Gregory hadrarely met his father's friend, who had been engaged in business atthe West, and of his family he knew little more than that there weretwo daughters--one who had married a Southern gentleman, and theother, much younger, living with her father. Gregory had been muchabroad as the European agent of his house, and it was during suchabsence that Mr. Walton had retired from business and purchased theold Gregory homestead. The young man felt sure, however, that though acomparative stranger himself, he would, for his father's sake, be awelcome visitor at the home of his childhood. At any rate hedetermined to test the matter, for the moment he found himself atliberty he felt a strange and an eager longing to revisit the scenesof the happiest portion of his life. He had meant to pay such a visitin the previous spring, soon after his arrival from Europe, when hiselation at being made partner in the house which he so long had servedas clerk reached almost the point of happiness. 

Among those who had welcomed him back was a man a little older thanhimself, who, in his absence, had become known as a successfuloperator in Wall Street. They had been intimate before Gregory wentabroad, and the friendship was renewed at once. Gregory prided himselfon his knowledge of the world, and was not by nature inclined to trusthastily; and yet he did place implicit confidence in Mr. Hunting, regarding him as a better man than himself. Hunting was an activemember of a church, and his name figured on several charities, whileGregory had almost ceased to attend any place of worship, and spenthis money selfishly upon himself, or foolishly upon others, givingonly as prompted by impulse. Indeed, his friend had occasionallyventured to remonstrate with him against his tendencies todissipation, saying that a young man of his prospects should notdamage them for the sake of passing gratification. Gregory felt theforce of these words, for he was exceedingly ambitious, and bent uponaccumulating wealth and at the same time making a brilliant figure inbusiness circles. 

In addition to the ordinary motives which would naturally lead him todesire such success he was incited by a secret one more powerful thanall the others combined. 

Before going abroad, when but a clerk, he had been the favored suitorof a beautiful and accomplished girl. Indeed the understanding betweenthem almost amounted to an engagement, and he revelled in apassionate, romantic attachment at an age when the blood is hot, theheart enthusiastic, and when not a particle of worldly cynicism andadverse experience had taught him to moderate his rose-huedanticipations. She seemed the embodiment of goodness, as well asbeauty and grace, for did she not repress his tendencies to be alittle fast? Did she not, with more than sisterly solicitude, counselhim to shun certain florid youth whose premature blossoming indicatedthat they might early run to seed? and did he not, in consequence, cutGuy Bonner, the jolliest fellow he had ever known? Indeed, more thanall, had she not ventured to talk religion to him, so that for a timehe had regarded himself as in a very "hopeful frame of mind, " and hadbeen inclined to take a mission-class in the same school with herself?How lovely and angelic she had once appeared, stooping in elegantcostume from her social height to the little ragamuffins of the streetthat sat gaping around her! As he gazed adoringly, while waiting to beher resort home, his young heart had swelled with the impulse to begood and noble also. 

But one day she caused him to drop out of his roseate clouds. Withmuch sweetness and resignation, and with appropriate sighs, she saidthat "it was her painful duty to tell him that their intimacy mustcease--that she had received an offer from Mr. Grobb, and that herparents, and indeed all her friends, had urged her to accept him. Shehad been led to feel that they with their riper experience andknowledge of life knew what was best for her, and therefore she hadyielded to their wishes and accepted the offer. " She was beginning toadd, in a sentimental tone, that "had she only followed the impulsesof her heart"--when Gregory, at first too stunned and bewildered tospeak, recovered his senses and interrupted with, "Please don't speakof your heart, Miss Bently. Why mention so small a matter? Go on withyour little transaction by all means. I am a business man myself, andcan readily understand your motives;" and he turned on his heel andstrode from the room, leaving Miss Bently ill at ease. 

The young man's first expression of having received, as it were, astaggering blow, and then his bitter satire, made an impression on hercotton-and-wool nature, and for a time her proceedings with Mr. Grobbdid not wear the aspect in which they had been presented by herfriends. But her little world so confidently and continuallyreiterated the statement that she was making a "splendid match" thather qualms vanished, and she felt that what all asserted must be true, and so entered on the gorgeous preparations as if the wedding were alland the man nothing. 

It is the custom to satirize or bitterly denounce such girls, butperhaps they are rather to be pitied. They are the natural products ofartificial society, wherein wealth, show, and the social eminencewhich is based on dress and establishment are held out as the prizesof a woman's existence. The only wonder is that so much heart andtruth assert themselves among those who all their life have seenwealth practically worshipped, and worth, ungilded, generally ignored. From ultra-fashionable circles a girl is often seen developing intothe noblest womanhood; while narrow, mercenary natures are often foundwhere far better things might have been expected. If such girls asMiss Bently could only be kept in quiet obscurity, like a bale ofmerchandise, till wanted, it would not be so bad; but some of them aresuch brilliant belles and incorrigible coquettes that they are likecertain Wall Street speculators who threaten to "break the street" inmaking their own fortunes. 

Some natures can receive a fair lady's refusal with a good-naturedshrug, as merely the result of a bad venture, and hope for better lucknext time; but to a greater number this is impossible, especially ifthey are played with and deceived. Walter Gregory pre-eminentlybelonged to the latter class. In early life he had breathed the veryatmosphere of truth, and his tendency to sincerity ever remained thebest element of his character. His was one of those fine-fibrednatures most susceptible to injury. Up to this time his indiscretionshad only been those of foolish, thoughtless youth, while aiming at thestandard of manliness and style in vogue among his city companions. High-spirited young fellows, not early braced by principle, must passthrough this phase as in babyhood they cut their teeth. If there istrue mettle in them, and they are not perverted by exceptionally badinfluences, they outgrow the idea that to be fast and foolish is to bemen as naturally as they do their roundabouts. 

What a man does is often not so important as the state of the heartthat prompts the act. In common parlance, Walter was as good-hearted afellow as ever breathed. Indeed, he was really inclined to nobleenthusiasms. 

If Miss Bently had been what he imagined her, she might have led himswiftly and surely into true manhood; but she was only an adept atpretty seeming with him, and when Mr. Grobb offered her his vastwealth, with himself as the only incumbrance, she acted promptly andcharacteristically. 

But perhaps it can be safely said that in no den of iniquity in thecity could Walter Gregory have received such moral injury as poisonedhis very soul when, in Mr. Bently's elegant and respectable parlor, the "angel" he worshipped "explained how she was situated, " and from a"sense of duty" stated her purpose to yield to the wishes of herfriends. Gregory had often seen Mr. Grobb, but had given him nothought, supposing him some elderly relative of the family. That thiswas the accepted suitor of the girl who had, with tender, meaningglances, sung for him sentimental ballads, who had sweetly talked tohim of religion and mission work, seemed a monstrous perversion. Callit unjust, unreasonable, if you will, yet it was the most naturalthing in the world for one possessing his sensitive, intense nature topass into harsh, bitter cynicism, and to regard Miss Bently as atypical girl of the period. 

A young man is far on the road to evil when he loses faith in woman. During the formative period of character she is, of earthlyinfluences, the most potent in making or marring him. A kind refusal, where no false encouragement has been given, often does a man good, and leaves his faith intact; but an experience similar to that ofyoung Gregory is like putting into a fountain that which may stain andembitter the waters of the stream in all its length. 

At the early age of twenty-two he became what is usually understood bythe phrase "a man of the world. " Still his moral nature could not sinkinto the depths without many a bitter outcry against its wrongs. Itwas with no slight effort that he drowned the memory of his early homeand its good influences. During the first two or three years heoccasionally had periods of passionate remorse, and made spasmodicefforts toward better things. But they were made in human strength, and in view of the penalties of evil, rather than because he wasenamored of the right. Some special temptation would soon sweep himaway into the old life, and thus, because of his broken promises andrepeated failures, he at last lost faith in himself also, and lackedthat self-respect without which no man can cope successfully with hisevil nature and an evil world. 

Living in a boarding-house, with none of the restraints and purifyinginfluences of a good home, he formed intimacies with brilliant butunscrupulous young men. The theatre became his church, and at last thecode of his fast, fashionable set was that which governed his life. Heavoided gross, vulgar dissipation, both because his nature revolted atit, and also on account of his purpose to permit nothing to interferewith his prospects of advancement in business. He meant to show MissBently that she had made a bad business speculation after all. Thusambition became the controlling element in his character; and he mighthave had a worse one. Moreover, in all his moral debasement he neverlost a decided tendency toward truthfulness and honesty. He would havestarved rather than touch anything that did not belong to him, norwould he allow himself to deceive in matters of business, and it wasupon these points that he specially prided himself. 

Gregory's unusual business ability, coupled with his knowledge ofFrench and German, led to his being sent abroad as agent of his firm. Five years of life in the materialistic and sceptical atmosphere ofcontinental cities confirmed the evil tendencies which were only toowell developed before he left his own land. He became what so manyappear to be in our day, a practical materialist and atheist. Presentlife and surroundings, present profit and pleasure, were all in all. He ceased to recognize the existence of a soul within himself havingdistinct needs and interests. His thoughts centred wholly in thecomfort and pleasures of the day and in that which would advance hisambitious schemes. His scepticism was not intellectual and inreference to the Bible and its teachings, but practical and inreference to humanity itself. He believed that with few exceptions menand women lived for their own profit and pleasure, and that religionand creeds were matters of custom and fashion, or an accident ofbirth. Only the reverence in which religion had been held in his earlyhome kept him from sharing fully in the contempt which the gentlemenhe met abroad seemed to have for it. He could not altogether despisehis mother's faith, but he regarded her as a gentle enthusiast hauntedby sacred traditions. The companionships which he had formed led himto believe that unless influenced by some interested motive a liberal-minded man of the world must of necessity outgrow these things. Withthe self-deception of his kind, he thought he was broad and liberal inhis views, when in reality he had lost all distinction between truthand error, and was narrowing his mind down to things only. Jew orGentile, Christian or Pagan, it was becoming all one to him. Menchanged their creeds and religions with other fashions, but all lookedafter what they believed to be the main chance, and he proposed to dothe same. 

As time passed on, however, he began to admit to himself that it wasstrange that in making all things bend to his pleasure he did notsecure more. He wearied of certain things. Stronger excitements wereneeded to spur his jaded senses. His bets, his stakes at cards grewheavier, his pleasures more gross, till a delicate organization sorevolted at its wrongs and so chastised him for excess that he wasdeterred from self-gratification in that direction. 

Some men's bodies are a "means of grace" to them. Coarse dissipationis a physical impossibility, or swift suicide in a very painful form. Young Gregory found that only in the excitements of the mind could hehope to find continued enjoyment. His ambition to accumulate wealthand become a brilliant business man most accorded with his tastes andtraining, and on these objects he gradually concentrated all hisenergies, seeking only in club-rooms and places of fashionable resortrecreation from the strain of business. 

He recognized that the best way to advance his own interests was toserve his employers well; and this he did so effectually that at lasthe was made a partner in the business, and, with a sense of somethingmore like pleasure than he had known for a long time, returned to NewYork and entered upon his new duties. 

As we have said, among those who warmly greeted and congratulated him, was Mr. Hunting. They gradually came to spend much time together, andbusiness and money-getting were their favorite themes. Gregory sawthat his friend was as keen on the track of fortune as himself, andthat he had apparently been much more successful. Mr. Huntingintimated that after one reached the charmed inner circle Wall Streetwas a perfect Eldorado, and seemed to take pains to drop occasionalsuggestions as to how an investment shrewdly made by one with hisfavored point of observation often secured in a day a larger returnthan a year of plodding business. 

These remarks were not lost on Gregory, and the wish became verystrong that he might share in some of the splendid "hits" by which hisfriend was accumulating so rapidly. 

Usually Mr. Hunting was very quiet and self-possessed, but one eveningin May he came into Gregory's rooms in a manner indicating not alittle excitement and elation. 

"Gregory!" he exclaimed, "I am going to make my fortune. "

"Make your fortune! You are as rich as Croesus now. "

"The past will be as nothing. I've struck a mine rather than a vein. "

"It's a pity some of your friends could not share in your luck. "

"Well, a few can. This is so large, and such a good thing, that I haveconcluded to let a few intimates go in with me. Only all must keepvery quiet about it;" and he proposed an operation that seemed certainof success as he explained it. 

Gregory concluded to put into it nearly all he had independent of hisinvestment in the firm, and also obtained permission to interest hispartners, and to procure an interview between them and Mr. Hunting. 

The scheme looked so very plausible that they were drawn into it also;but Mr. Burnett took Gregory aside and said: "After all, we must placea great deal of confidence in Mr. Hunting's word in this matter. Areyou satisfied that we can safely do so?"

"I would stake my life on his word in this case, " said Gregory, eagerly, "and I pledge all I have put in the firm on his truth. "

This was the last flicker of his old enthusiasm and trust in anybodyor anything, including himself. With almost the skill of genius Mr. Hunting adroitly, within the limits of the law, swindled them all, andmade a vast profit out of their losses. The transaction was notgenerally known, but even some of the hardened gamblers of the streetsaid "it was too bad. "

But the bank-officers with whom Burnett & Co. Did business knew aboutit, and if it had not been for their lenience and aid the firm wouldhave failed. As it was, it required a struggle of months to regain thesolid ground of safety. 

At first the firm was suspicious of Gregory, and disposed to blame himvery much. But when he proved to them that he had lost his privatemeans by Hunting's treachery, and insisted on making over to them allhis right and title to the property he had invested with them, theysaw that he was no confederate of the swindler, but that he hadsuffered more than any of them. 

He had, indeed. He had lost his ambition. The large sum of money thatwas to be the basis of the immense fortune he had hoped to amass wasgone. He had greatly prided himself on his business ability, but hadsignalized his entrance on his new and responsible position by beingoverreached and swindled in a transaction that had impoverishedhimself and almost ruined his partners. He grew very misanthropic, andwas quite as bitter against himself as against others. In hisestimation people were either cloaking their evil or had not beentempted, and he felt after Hunting dropped the mask that he wouldnever trust any one again. 

It may be said, all this is very unreasonable. Yes, it is; but thenpeople will judge the world by their own experience of it, and somenatures are more easily warped by wrong than others. No logic can copewith feeling and prejudice. Because of his own misguided life and thewrong he had received from others, Walter Gregory was no more able toform a correct estimate of society than one color-blind is to judge ofthe tints of flowers. And yet he belonged to that class who claim pre-eminently to know the world. Because he thought he knew it so well hehated and despised it, and himself as part of it. 

The months that followed his great and sudden downfall dragged theirslow length along. He worked early and late, without thought ofsparing himself. If he could only see what the firm had lost throughhim made good, he did not care what became of himself. Why should he?There was little in the present to interest him, and the futurelooked, in his depressed, morbid state, as monotonous and barren asthe sands of a desert. Seemingly, he had exhausted life, and it hadlost all zest for him. 

But while his power to enjoy had gone, not so his power to suffer. Hisconscience was uneasy, and told him in a vague way that something waswrong. Reason, or, more correctly speaking, instinct, condemned hislife as a wretched blunder. He had lived for his own enjoyment, andnow, when but half through life, what was there for him to enjoy?

As in increasing weakness he dragged himself to the office on a sultrySeptember day, the thought occurred to him that the end was nearerthan he expected. 

"Let it come, " he said, bitterly. "Why should I live?"

The thought of his early home recurred to him with increasingfrequency, and he had a growing desire to visit it before his strengthfailed utterly. Therefore it was with a certain melancholy pleasurethat he found himself at liberty, through the kindness of hispartners, to make this visit, and at the season, too, when his boyishmemories of the place, like the foliage, would be most varied andvivid. 

CHAPTER II

OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR

If the reader could imagine a man visiting his own grave, he mightobtain some idea of Walter Gregory's feelings as he took the boatwhich would land him not far from his early home. And yet, sodifferent was he from the boy who had left that home fifteen yearsbefore, that it was almost the same as if he were visiting the graveof a brother who had died in youth. 

Though the day was mild, a fresh bracing wind blew from the west. Shielding himself from this on the after-deck, he half reclined, onaccount of his weakness, in a position from which he could see theshores and passing vessels upon the river. The swift gliding motion, the beautiful and familiar scenery, the sense of freedom from routinework, and the crisp, pure air, that seemed like a delicate wine, allcombined to form a mystic lever that began to lift his heart out ofthe depths of despondency. 

A storm had passed away, leaving not a trace. The October sun shone inundimmed splendor, and all nature appeared to rejoice in its light. The waves with their silver crests seemed chasing one another in madglee. The sailing vessels, as they tacked to and fro across the riverunder the stiff western breeze, made the water foam about their bluntprows, and the white-winged gulls wheeled in graceful circlesoverhead. There was a sense of movement and life that was contagious. Gregory's dull eyes kindled with something like interest, and then hethought: "The storm lowered over these sunny shores yesterday. Thegloom of night rested upon these waters but a few hours since. Why isit that nature can smile and be glad the moment the shadow passes andI cannot? Is there no sunlight for the soul? I seem as if entering acave, that grows colder and darker at every step, and no gleam shinesat the further end, indicating that I may pass through it and out intothe light again. "

Thus letting his fancy wander at will, at times half-dreaming andhalf-waking, he passed the hours that elapsed before the boat touchedat a point in the Highlands of the Hudson, his destination. Making abetter dinner than he had enjoyed for a long time, and feelingstronger than for weeks before, he started for the place that now, ofall the world, had for him the greatest attraction. 

There was no marked change in the foliage as yet, but only a deepeningof color, like a flush on the cheek of beauty. As he was driving alongthe familiar road, farm-house and grove, and even tree, rock, andthicket, began to greet him as with the faces of old friends. At lasthe saw, nestling in a wild, picturesque valley, the quaint outline ofhis former home. His heart yearned toward it, and he felt that next tohis mother's face no other object could be so welcome. 

"Slower, please, " he said to the driver. 

Though his eyes were moist, and at times dim with tears, not a featurein the scene escaped him. When near the gateway he sprung out with alightness that he would not have believed possible the day before, andsaid, "Come for me at five. "

For a little time he stood leaning on the gate. Two children wereplaying on the lawn, and it almost seemed to him that the elder, a boyof about ten years, might be himself, and he a passing stranger, whohad merely stopped to look at the pretty scene. 

"Oh that I were a boy like that one there! Oh that I were here againas of old!" he sighed. "How unchanged it all is, and I so changed! Itseems as if the past were mocking me. That must be I there playingwith my little sister. Mother must be sewing in her cheery south room, and father surely is taking his after-dinner nap in the library. Canit be that they are all dead save me? and that this is but a beautifulmirage?"

He felt that he could not meet any one until he became more composed, and so passed on up the valley. Before turning away he noticed that alady come out at the front door. The children joined her, and theystarted for a walk. 

Looking wistfully on either side, Gregory soon came to a point wherethe orchard extended to the road. A well-remembered fall pippin treehung its laden boughs over the fence, and the fruit looked so ripe andgolden in the slanting rays of October sunlight that he determined totry one of the apples and see if it tasted as of old. As he climbedupon the wall a loose stone fell clattering down and rolled into theroad. He did not notice this, but an old man dozing in the porch of alittle house opposite did. As Gregory reached up his cane to detachfrom its spray a great, yellow-cheeked fellow, his hand was arrested, and he was almost startled off his perch by such a volley of oaths asshocked even his hardened ears. Turning gingerly around so as not tolose his footing, he faced this masked battery that had opened sounexpectedly upon him, and saw a white-haired old man balancinghimself on one crutch and brandishing the other at him. 

"Stop knockin' down that wall and fillin! the road with stuns, you--, "shouted the venerable man, in tones that indicated anything but thecalmness of age. "Let John Walton's apples alone, you--thief. What doyou mean by robbin' in broad daylight, right under a man's nose?"

Gregory saw that he had a character to deal with, and, to divert hismind from thoughts that were growing too painful, determined to drawthe old man out; so he said, "Is not taking things so openly a ratherhonest way of robbing?"

"Git down, I tell yer, " cried the guardian of the orchard. 

"Suppose 'tis, it's robbin' arter all. So now move on, and none of yercussed impudence. "

"But you call them John Walton's apples, " said Gregory, eating onewith provoking coolness. "What have you got to do with them? and whyshould you care?"

"Now look here, stranger, you're an infernal mean cuss to ask suchquestions. Ain't John Walton my neighbor? and a good neighbor, too?D'ye suppose a well-meanin' man like myself would stand by and see aneighbor robbed? and of all others, John Walton? Don't you know thatrobbin' a good man brings bad luck, you thunderin' fool?"

"But I've always had bad luck, so I needn't stop on that account, "retorted Gregory, from the fence. 

"I believe it, and you allers will, " vociferated the old man, "andI'll tell yer why. I know from the cut of yer jib that yer've allersbeen eatin' forbidden fruit. If yer lived now a good square life like'Squire Walton and me, you'd have no reason to complain of yer luck. If I could get a clip at yer with this crutch I'd give yer suthin'else to complain of. If yer had any decency yer wouldn't stand there ajibin' at a lame old man. "

Gregory took off his hat with a polite bow and said: "I beg yourpardon; I was under the impression that you were doing the 'cussing. 'I shall come and see you soon, for somehow it does me good to have youswear at me. I only wish I had as good a friend in the world as Mr. Walton has in you. " With these words he sprung from the fence on theorchard side, and made his way to the hill behind the Waltonresidence, leaving the old man mumbling and muttering in a veryprofane manner. 

"Like enough it was somebody visitin' at the Walton's, and I've madea--fool of myself after all. What's worse, that poor little Miss Euliewill hear I've been swearin' agin, and there'll be another awfulprayin' time. What a cussed old fool I be, to promise to quitswearin'! I know I can't. What's the good o' stoppin'? It's inside, and might as well come out. The Lord knows I don't mean no disrespectto Him. It's only one of my ways. He knows well enough that I'm a goodneighbor, and what's the harm in a little cussin'?" and so the strangeold man talked on to himself in the intervals between long pulls athis pipe. 

By the time Gregory reached the top of the hill his strength was quiteexhausted, and, panting, he sat down on the sunny side of a thicket ofcedars, for the late afternoon was growing chilly. Beneath him lay theone oasis in a desert world. 

With an indescribable blending of pleasure and pain, he found himselftracing with his eye every well-remembered path, and marking everyfamiliar object. 

Not a breath of air was stirring, and it would seem that Nature wasseeking to impart to his perturbed spirit, full of the restlessmovement of city life and the inevitable disquiet of sin, something ofher own calmness and peace. The only sounds he heard seemed a part ofnature's silence, --the tinkle of cowbells, the slumberous monotone ofwater as it fell over the dam, the grating notes of a katydid, rendered hoarse by recent cool nights, in a shady ravine near by, anda black cricket chirping at the edge of the rock on which he sat--these were all. And yet the sounds, though not heard for years, seemedas familiar as the mother's lullaby that puts a child to sleep, and adelicious sense of restfulness stole into his heart. The world inwhich he had so greatly sinned and suffered might be another planet, it seemed so far away. Could it be that in a few short hours he hadescaped out of the hurry and grind of New York into this shelterednook? Why had he not come before? Here was the remedy for soul andbody, if any existed. 

Not a person was visible on the place, and it seemed that it mightthus have been awaiting him in all his absence, and that now he hadonly to go and take possession. 

"So our home in heaven awaits us, mother used to say, " he thought, "while we are such willing exiles from it. I would give all the worldto believe as she did. "

He found that the place so inseparably associated with his motherbrought back her teachings, which he had so often tried to forget. 

"I wish I might bury myself here, away from the world, " he muttered, "for it has only cheated and lied to me from first to last. Everythingdeceived me, and turned out differently from what I expected. Theseloved old scenes are true and unchanged, and smile upon me now as whenI was here a happy boy. Would to heaven I might never leave themagain!"

He was startled out of his revery by the sharp bark of a squirrel thatran chattering and whisking its tail in great excitement from limb tolimb in a clump of chestnuts near. The crackling of a twig betrayed toGregory the cause of its alarm, for through an opening in the thickethe saw the lady who had started out for a walk with the children whilehe was leaning on the front gate. 

Shrinking further behind the cedars he proposed to reconnoitre alittle before making himself known. He observed that she was attiredin a dark, close-fitting costume suitable for rambling among thehills. At first he thought that she was pretty, and then that she wasnot. His quick, critical eye detected that her features were notregular, that her profile was not classic. It was only the rich glowof exercise and the jaunty gypsy hat that had given the firstimpression of something like beauty. In her right hand, which wasungloved, she daintily held, by its short stem, a chestnut burr whichthe squirrel in its alarm had dropped, and now, in its own shrillvernacular, was scolding about so vociferously. She was glancingaround for some means to break it open, and Gregory had scarcely timeto notice her fine dark eyes, when, as if remembering the rock onwhich he had been sitting, she advanced toward him with a step soquick and elastic that he envied her vigor. 

Further concealment was now impossible. Therefore with easy politenesshe stepped forward and said: "Let me open the burr for you, MissWalton. "

She started violently at the sound of his voice, and for a momentreminded him of a frightened bird on the eve of flight. 

"Pardon me for so alarming you, " he hastened to say, "and also pardona seeming stranger for addressing you informally. My name may not beunknown to you, although I am in person. It is Walter Gregory. "

She had been so startled that she could not immediately recoverherself, and still stood regarding him doubtfully, although withmanner more assured. 

"Come, " said he, smiling and advancing toward her with the quietassurance of a society man. "Let me open the burr for you, and youshall take its contents in confirmation of what I say. If I find soundchestnuts in it, let them be a token that I am not misrepresentingmyself. If my test fails, then you may justly ask for bettercredentials. "

Half smiling, and quite satisfied from his words and appearance inadvance, she extended the burr toward him. But as she did so it partedfrom the stem, and would have fallen to the ground had he not, withhis ungloved hand, caught the prickly thing. His hand was as white andsoft as hers, and the sharp spines stung him sorely, yet he permittedno sign of pain to appear upon his face. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Miss Walton, "I fear it hurt you. "

He looked up humorously and said, "An augury is a solemn affair, andno disrespect must be allowed to nature's oracle, which in this caseis a chestnut burr;" and he speedily opened it. 

"There!" he said, triumphantly, "what more could you ask? Here are twosolid, plump chestnuts, with only a false, empty form of shell betweenthem. And here, like the solid nuts, are two people entitled to eachother's acquaintance, with only the false formality of anintroduction, like the empty shell, keeping them apart. Since nomutual friend is present to introduce us, has not Nature taken uponherself the office through this chestnut burr? But perhaps I shouldfurther Nature's efforts by giving you my card. "

As Miss Walton regained composure, she soon proved to Gregory that shewas not merely a shy country girl. At the close of his rather long andfanciful speech she said, genially, extending her hand: "My love forNature is unbounded, Mr. Gregory, and the introduction you have sohappily obtained from her weighs more with me than any other that youcould have had. Let me welcome you to your own home, as it were. Butsee, your hand is bleeding, where the burr pricked you. Is this anomen, also? If our first meeting brings bloody wounds, I fear you willshun further acquaintance. "

There was a spice of bitterness in Gregory's laugh, as he said:"People don't often die of such wounds. But it is a little odd that intaking your hand I should stain it with my blood. I am inclined todrop the burr after all, and base all my claims on my practicalvisiting card. You may come to look upon the burr as a warning, ratherthan an introduction, and order me off the premises. "

"It was an omen of your choice, " replied Miss Walton, laughing. "Youhave more to fear from it than I. If you will venture to stay youshall be most welcome. Indeed, it almost seems that you have a betterright here than we, and your name has been so often heard that you areno stranger. I know father will be very glad to see you, for he oftenspeaks of you, and wonders if you are like his old friend, the dearestone, I think, he ever had. How long have you been here?"

"Well, I have been wandering about the place much of the afternoon. "

"I need not ask you why you did not come in at once, " she said, gently. "Seeing your old home after so long an absence is like meetingsome dear friend. One naturally wishes to be alone for a time. But nowI hope you will go home with me. "

He was surprised at her delicate appreciation of his feelings, andgave her a quick pleased look, saying: "Nature has taught you to be agood interpreter, Miss Walton. You are right. The memories of the oldplace were a little too much for me at first, and I did not know thatthose whom I met would appreciate my feelings so delicately. "

The two children now appeared, running around the brow of the hill, the boy calling in great excitement: "Aunt Annie, oh! Aunt Annie, we've found a squirrel-hole. We chased him into it. Can't Susie sit bythe hole and keep him in, while I go for a spade to dig him out?"

Then they saw the unlooked-for stranger, who at once rivalled thesquirrel-hole in interest, and with slower steps, and curious glances, they approached. 

"These are my sister's children, " said Miss Walton, simply. 

Gregory kindly took the boy by the hand, and kissed the little girl, who looked half-frightened and half-pleased, as a very little maidenshould, while she rubbed the cheek that his mustache had tickled. 

"Do you think we can get the squirrel, Aunt Annie?" again asked theboy. 

"Do you think it would be right, Johnny, if you could?" she asked. "Suppose you were the squirrel in the hole, and one big monster, likeSusie here, should sit by the door, and you heard another big monstersay, 'Wait till I get something to tear open his house with. ' Howwould you feel?"

"I won't keep the poor little squirrel in his hole, " said sympatheticSusie. 

But the boy's brow contracted, and he said, sternly: "Squirrels arenothing but robbers, and their holes are robbers' dens. They take halfour nuts every year. "

Miss Walton looked significantly at Gregory, and laughed, saying, "There it is, you see, man and woman. "

A momentary shadow crossed his face, and he said, abruptly, "I hopeSusie will be as kindly in coming years. "

Miss Walton looked at him curiously as they began to descend the hillto the house. She evidently did not understand his remark, coupledwith his manner. 

As they approached the barn there was great excitement among thepoultry. Passing round its angle, Walter saw coming toward them aquaint-looking old woman, in what appeared to be a white scallopednightcap. She had a pan of corn in her hand, and was attended by aretinue that would have rejoiced an epicure's heart. Chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, and Guinea fowls thronged around and after her with anintentness on the grain and a disregard of one another's rights andfeelings that reminded one unpleasantly of political aspirants justafter a Presidential election. Johnny made a dive for an old gobbler, and the great red-wattled bird dropped his wings and seemed inclinedto show fight, but a reluctant armistice was brought about betweenthem by the old woman screaming: "Maister Johnny, an' ye let not thefowls alone ye'll ha' na apples roast the night. "

Susie clung timidly to her aunty's side as they passed through theseclamorous candidates for holiday honors, and the young lady said, kindly, "You have a large family to look after, Zibbie, but I'm afraidwe'll lessen it every day now. "

"Indeed, an' ye will, and it goes agin the grain to wring the necks ofthem that I've nursed from the shell, " said the old woman, rathersharply. 

"It must be a great trial to your feelings, " said Miss Walton, laughing; "but what would you have us do with them, Zibbie? You don'tneed them all for pets. "

Before Zibbie could answer, an old gentleman in a low buggy drove intothe large door-yard, and the children bounded toward him, screaming, "Grandpa. "

A colored man took the horse, and Mr. Walton, with a briskness thatone would not expect at his advanced age, came toward them. 

He was a noble-looking old man, with hair and beard as white as snow, and with the stately manners of the old school. When he learned whoGregory was he greeted him with a cordiality that was so genuine as tocompel the cynical man of the world to feel its truth. 

Mr. Walton's eyes were turned so often and wistfully on his face thatGregory was embarrassed. 

"I was looking for my friend, " said the old gentleman, in a huskyvoice, turning hastily away to hide his feeling. "You strongly remindme of him; and yet--" But he never finished the sentence. 

Gregory well understood the "and yet, " and in bitterness of soulremembered that his father had been a good man, but that the impressof goodness could not rest on his face. 

He had now grown very weary, and gave evidence of it. 

"Mr. Gregory, you look ill, " said Miss Walton, hastily. 

"I am not well, " he said, "and have not been for a long time. PerhapsI am going beyond my strength to-day. "

In a moment they were all solicitude. The driver, who then appearedaccording to his instructions, was posted back to the hotel for Mr. Gregory's luggage, Mr. Walton saying, with hearty emphasis thatremoved every scruple, "This must be your home, sir, as long as youcan remain with us, as truly as ever it was. "

A little later he found himself in the "spare room, " on whose state hehad rarely intruded when a boy. Jeff, the colored man, had kindled acheery wood fire on the ample hearth, and, too exhausted even tothink, Gregory sank back in a great easy-chair with the blessed senseof the storm-tossed on reaching a quiet haven. 

CHAPTER III

MORBID BROODING

To the millions who are suffering in mind or body there certainly comein this world moments of repose, when pain ceases; and the respiteseems so delicious in contrast that it may well suggest the "rest thatremaineth. " Thinking of neither the past nor the future, Gregory for alittle time gave himself up to the sense of present and luxuriouscomfort. With closed eyes and mind almost as quiet as his motionlessbody, he let the moments pass, feeling dimly that he would ask nobetter heaven than the eternal continuance of this painless, half-dreaming lethargy. 

He was soon aroused, however, by a knocking at the door, and a middle-aged servant placed before him a tempting plate of Albert biscuit anda glass of home-made currant wine of indefinite age. The quaint anddainty little lunch caught his appetite as exactly as if manna hadfallen adapted to his need; but it soon stimulated him out of hiscondition of partial non-existence. With returning consciousness ofthe necessity of living and acting came the strong desire to spend asmuch of his vacation as possible in his old home, and he determined toavail himself of Mr. Walton's invitation to the utmost limit thatetiquette would permit. 

His awakened mind gave but little thought to his entertainers, and hedid not anticipate much pleasure from their society. He was satisfiedthat they were refined, cultivated people, with whom he could be asmuch at ease as would be possible in any companionship, but he hopedand proposed to spend the most of his time alone in wandering amid oldscenes and brooding over the past. The morbid mind is ever full ofunnatural contradictions, and he found a melancholy pleasure inshutting his eyes to the future and recalling the time when he hadbeen happy and hopeful. In his egotism he found more that interestedhim in his past and vanished self than in the surrounding world. Eviland ill-health had so enfeebled his body, narrowed his mind, andblurred the future, that his best solace seemed a vain and sentimentalrecalling of the crude yet comparatively happy period of childhood. 

This is sorry progress. A man must indeed have lived radically wrongwhen he looks backward for the best of his life. Gray-haired Mr. Walton was looking forward. Gregory's habit of self-pleasing--ofacting according to his mood--was too deeply seated to permit even thethought of returning the hospitality he hoped to enjoy by a cordialeffort on his part to prove himself an agreeable guest. Polite he everwould be, for he had the instincts and training of a gentleman, insociety's interpretation of the word, but he had lost the power tofeel a generous solicitude for the feelings and happiness of others. Indeed, he rather took a cynical pleasure in discovering defects inthe character of those around him, and in learning that their seemingenjoyment of life was but hollow and partial. Conscious of being evilhimself, he liked to think others were not much better, or would notbe if tempted. Therefore, with a gloomy scepticism, he questioned allthe seeming happiness and goodness he saw. "It is either unreal oruntried, " he was wont to say bitterly. 

About seven o'clock, Hannah, the waitress, again appeared, saying:"Supper is ready, but the ladies beg you will not come down unless youfeel able. I can bring up your tea if you wish. "

Thinking first and only of self, he at once decided not to go down. Hefelt sufficiently rested and revived, but was in no mood forcommonplace talk to comparative strangers. His cosey chair, glowingfire, and listless ease were much better than noisy children, inquisitive ladies, and the unconscious reproach of Mr. Walton's face, as he would look in vain for the lineaments of his lost friend. Therefore he said, suavely: "Please say to the ladies that I am sowearied that I should make but a dull companion, and so for theirsakes, as well as my own, had better not leave my room this evening. "

It is the perfection of art in selfishness to make it appear as if youwere thinking only of others. This was the design of Walter's politemessage. Soon a bit of tender steak, a roast potato, tea, and toastwere smoking appetizingly beside him, and he congratulated himselfthat he had escaped the bore of company for one evening. 

Notwithstanding his misanthropy and cherished desolation the supperwas so inviting that he was tempted to partake of it heartily. Thenincasing himself in his ample dressing-gown he placed his slipperedfeet on the fender before a cheery fire, lighted a choice Havana, andproceeded to be miserable after the fashion that indulged misery oftenaffects. 

Hannah quietly removed the tea-tray, and Mr. Walton came up andcourteously inquired if there was anything that would add to hisguest's comfort. 

"After a few hours of rest and quiet I hope I shall be able to make abetter return for your hospitality, " Gregory rejoined, with equalpoliteness. 

"Oh, do not feel under any obligation to exert yourself, " said kindMr. Walton. "In order to derive full benefit from your vacation, youmust simply rest and follow your moods. "

This view of the case suited Gregory exactly, and the prospect of avisit at his old home grew still more inviting. When he was leftalone, he gave himself up wholly to the memories of the past. 

At first it was with a pleasurable pain that he recalled his formerlife. With an imagination naturally strong he lived it all over again, from the date of his first recollections. In the curling flames andglowing coals on the hearth a panorama passed before him. He saw ajoyous child, a light-hearted boy, and a sanguine youth, with theshifting and familiar scenery of well-remembered experience. Timesoftened the pictures, and the harsh, rough outlines which exist inevery truthful portraiture of life were lost in the haze of distance. The gentle but steady light of mother love, and through her a pale, half-recognized reflection of the love of God, illumined all thoseyears; and his father's strong, quiet affection made a backgroundanything but dark. He had been naturally what is termed a very goodboy, full of generous impulses. There had been no lack of ordinarywaywardness or of the faults of youth, but they showed a tendency toyield readily to the correcting influence of love. Good impulses, however, are not principles, and may give way to stronger impulses ofevil. If the influences of his early home had alone followed him, hewould not now be moodily recalling the past as the exiled convictmight watch the shores of his native land recede. 

And then, as in his prolonged revery the fire burned low, and theruddy coals turned to ashes, the past faded into distance, and hispresent life, dull and leaden, rose before him, and from regretfulmemories that were not wholly painful he passed to that bitterness offeeling which ever comes when hope is giving place to despair. 

The fire flickered out and died, his head drooped lower and lower, while the brooding frown upon his brow darkened almost into a scowl. Outwardly he made a sad picture for a young man in the prime of life, but to Him who looks at the attitude of the soul, what but unutterablelove kept him from appearing absolutely revolting?

Suddenly, like light breaking into a vault a few notes of prelude werestruck upon the piano in the parlor below, and a sweet voice, softenedby distance sung:

 "Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee, "

How often he had heard the familiar words and music in that same home!They seemed to crown and complete all the memories of the place, butthey reminded him more clearly than ever before that its mostinseparable associations were holy, hopeful, and suggestive of a faiththat he seemed to have lost as utterly as if it had been a gem droppedinto the ocean. 

He had lived in foreign lands far from his birthplace, but the purposeto return ever dwelt pleasurably in his mind. But how could he crossthe gulf that yawned between him and the faith of his childhood? Wasthere really anything beyond that gulf save what the credulousimagination had created? Instinctively he felt that there was, for hewas honest enough with himself to remember that his scepticism was theresult of an evil life and the influence of an unbelieving world, rather than the outcome of patient investigation. The wish was fatherto the thought. 

Yet sweet, unfaltering, and clear as the voice of faith ever shouldbe, the hymn went forward in the room below, his memory supplying thewell-known words that were lost from remoteness:--

 "When mine eyelids close in death, When I soar to worlds unknown. "

"Oh, when!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "What shall be my experience then?If I continue to fail in health as I have of late I shall knowcursedly soon. That must be Miss Walton singing. Though she does notrealize it, to me this is almost as cruel mockery as if an angel sangat the gates of hell. "

The music ceased, and the monotone of one reading followed. 

"Family prayers as of old, " he muttered. "How everything conspires to-day to bring my home-life back again! and yet there is a fatal lack ofsomething that is harder to endure than the absence of my own kindredand vanished youth. I doubt whether I can stay here long after all. Will not the mocking fable of Tantalus be repeated constantly, as Isee others drinking daily at a fountain which though apparently sonear is ever beyond my reach?"

Shivering with the chill of the night and the deeper chill at heart, he retired to troubled sleep. 

CHAPTER IV

HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE

Rest, and the sunny light and bracing air of the following morning, banished much of Gregory's moodiness, and he descended the stairsproposing to dismiss painful thoughts and get what comfort andsemblance of enjoyment he could out of the passing hours. Mr. Waltonmet him cordially--indeed with almost fatherly solicitude--and led himat once to the dining-room, where an inviting breakfast awaited them. Miss Walton also was genial, and introduced Miss Eulalia Morton, amaiden sister of her mother. Miss Eulie, as she was familiarly called, was a pale, delicate little lady, with a face sweetened rather thanhardened and imbittered by time. If, as some believe, the flesh andthe spirit, the soul and the body, are ever at variance, she gave theimpression at first glance that the body was getting the worst of theconflict. But in truth the faintest thoughts of strife seemed to haveno association with her whatever. She appeared so light and aerialthat one could imagine her flying over the rough places of life, andvanishing when any one opposed her. 

Miss Walton reversed all this, for she was decidedly substantial. Shewas of only medium height, but a fine figure made her appear tallerthan she was. She immediately gave the impression of power and reserveforce. You felt this in her quick, elastic step, saw it in her decidedthough not abrupt movements, and heard it in her tone. Even thenonchalant Mr. Gregory could not ignore her in his customary politemanner, though quiet refinement and peculiar unobtrusiveness seemedher characteristics. She won attention, not because she sought it, noron the ground of eccentricities, but because of her intense vitality. From her dark eyes a close observer might catch glimpses of a quick, active mind, an eager spirit, and--well, perhaps a passionate temper. Though chastened and subdued, she ever gave the impression of power tothose who came to know her well. In certain ways, as they interpretedher, people acknowledged this force of character. Some spoke of her asvery lively, others as exceedingly energetic and willing to enter onany good work. Some thought her ambitious, else why was she soprominent in church matters, and so ready to visit the sick and poor?They could explain this in but one way. And some looked knowingly ateach other and said: "I wonder if she is always as smiling and sweetas when in society;" and then followed shaking of heads whichintimated, "Look out for sudden gusts. "

Again, as in simple morning wrapper she turned to greet Gregory, shegave him the impression of something like beauty. But his taste, rendered critical by much observation both at home and abroad, at oncetold him that he was mistaken. 

"The expression is well enough, " he thought, "but she has not a singleperfect feature--not one that an artist would copy, except perhaps theeyes, and even they are not soft and Madonna-like. "

He had a sybarite's eye for beauty, and an intense admiration for it. At the same time he was too intellectual to be satisfied with the meresensuous type. And yet, when he decided that a woman was not pretty, she ceased to interest him. His exacting taste required no smalldegree of outward perfection crowned by ready wit and society polish. With those so endowed he had frequently amused himself in New York andParis by a passing flirtation since the politic Miss Bently had madehim a sceptic in regard to women. All his intercourse with society hadconfirmed his cynicism. The most beautiful and brilliant in thedrawing-rooms were seldom the best. He flattered them to their facesand sneered at them in his heart. Therefore his attentions were merelyof a nature to excite their vanity, stimulated by much incense fromother sources. He saw this plainly manifested trait, which hecontributed to develop, and despised it. He also saw that many were aseager for a good match as ever the adored Miss Bently had been, andthat, while they liked his compliments, they cared not for him. Whyshould they? Insincere and selfish himself, why should he expect toawaken better feelings on the part of those who were anything butunsophisticated, and from knowledge of the world could gauge him athis true worth? Not even a sentimental girl would show her heart tosuch a man. And yet with the blind egotism of selfishness he smiledgrimly at their apparent heartlessness and said, "Such is woman. "

At the same time it must in justice be said that he despised men ingeneral quite as sincerely. "Human nature is wretched stuff, " had cometo be the first article in his creed. 

In regard to Miss Walton he concluded: "She is a goodish girl, more ofa lady than the average, pious and orthodox, an excellent housekeeper, and a great comfort to her father, no doubt. She is safe from her veryplainness, though confident, of course, that she could resisttemptation and be a saint under all circumstances;" and he dismissedher from his mind with a sort of inward groan and protest against thenecessity of making himself agreeable to her during his visit. 

He did not think it worth while to disguise his face as he made thesebrief critical observations, and quick-witted Annie gathered somethingof the drift of his thoughts, as she stole a few glances at him frombehind the coffee-urn. It piqued her pride a little, and she wasdisappointed in him, for she had hoped for a pleasant addition totheir society for a time. But she was so supremely indifferent to him, and had so much to fill her thoughts and days, that his slight promiseto prove an agreeable visitor caused but momentary annoyance. Yet theglimmer of a smile flitted across her face as she thought: "He mayfind himself slightly mistaken in me, after all. His face seems tosay, 'No doubt she is a good young woman, and well enough for thisslow country place, but she has no beauty, no style. ' I think I canmanage to disturb the even current of his vanity, if his visit is longenough, and he shall learn at least that I shall not gape admiringlyat his artificial metropolitan airs. "

Her manner toward Gregory remained full of kindness and grace, but shemade no effort to secure his attention and engage him in conversation, as he had feared she would do. She acted as if she were accustomed tosee such persons as himself at her father's breakfast-table everymorning; and, though habitually wrapped up in his own personality, hesoon became dimly conscious that her course toward him was not what hehad expected. 

Miss Eulie was all solicitude in view of his character of invalid; andthe children looked at him with curious eyes and growingdisapprobation. There was nothing in him to secure their instinctivefriendship, and he made no effort to win their sympathies. 

The morning meal began with a reverent looking to heaven for God'sblessing on the gifts which were acknowledged as coming from Him; andeven Gregory was compelled to admit that the brief rite did not appearlike a careless signing of the cross, or a shrivelled form from whichspirit and meaning had departed, but a sincere expression of lovingtrust and gratitude. 

During the greater part of the meal, Mr. Walton dwelt on thecircumstances that had led to his friendship with Gregory's father, but at last the conversation flagged a little, since the young manmade so slight effort to maintain it. 

Suddenly Mr. Walton turned to his daughter and said, "By the way, Annie, you have not told me where you found Mr. Gregory, for myimpression is that you brought him down from the hills. "

"I was about to say that I found him in a chestnut burr, " repliedAnnie, with a twinkle in her eye. "At least I found a stranger by thecedar thicket, and he proved from a chestnut burr who he was, and hisright to acquaintance, with a better logic than I supposed him capableof. "

"Indeed?" asked Gregory, quickly, feeling the prick of her last words;"on what grounds were you led to estimate my logic so slightingly?"

"On merely general grounds; but you see I am open to all evidence inyour favor. City life no doubt has great advantages, but it also hasgreater drawbacks. "

"What are they?"

"I cannot think of them all now. Suffice it to say that if you hadalways lived in the city you could not have interpreted a chestnutburr so gracefully. Many there seem to forget Nature's lore. "

"But may they not learn other things more valuable?"

Miss Walton shook her head, and said, with a laugh: "An ignorantexhorter once stated to his little schoolhouse audience that Paul wasbrought up at the foot of the hill Gamaliel. I almost wish he wereright, for I should have had more confidence in the teachings of thehill than in those of the narrow-minded Jewish Rabbi. "

"And yet you regard Paul as the very chief of the apostles. "

"He became such after he was taught of Him who teaches through thehills and nature generally. "

"My daughter is an enthusiast for nature, " remarked Mr. Walton. 

"If the people are the same as when I was here a boy, the hills havenot taught the majority very much, " said Gregory, with a French shrug. 

"Many of them have a better wisdom than you think, " answered Annie, quietly. 

"In what does it consist?"

"Well, for one thing they know how to enjoy life and add to theenjoyment of others. "

Gregory looked at her keenly for a moment, but saw nothing to lead himto think that she was speaking on other than general principles; buthe said, a little moodily, as they rose from the table, "Thatcertainly is a better wisdom than is usually attained in either cityor country. "

"It is not our custom to make company of our friends, " said Mr. Walton, cordially. "We hope you will feel completely at home, and comeand go as you like, and do just what you find agreeable. We dine attwo, and have an early supper on account of the children. There areone or two fair saddle horses on the place, but if you do not feelstrong enough to ride, Annie can drive you out, and I assure you sheis at home in the management of a horse. "

"Yes, indeed, " echoed the little boy. "Aunt Annie can manage anythingor anybody. "

"That is a remarkable power, " said Gregory, with an amused look and aside glance at the young girl. "How does she do it?"

"Oh, I don't know, " replied the boy; "she makes them love her, andthen they want to do as she says. "

A momentary wrathful gleam shot from Annie's eyes at her indiscreetlittle champion, but with heightened color she joined in the laughthat followed. 

Gregory had the ill grace to say with a sort of mocking gallantry, ashe bowed himself out, "It must be delightful to be managed on suchterms. "

CHAPTER V

WAS IT AN ACCIDENT?

Putting on a light overcoat, for the morning air was sharp andbracing, Gregory soon found himself in the old square garden. Thoughits glory was decidedly on the wane, it was as yet unnipped by thefrost It had a neatness and an order of its own that were quite unlikethose where nature is in entire subordination to art. Indeed it lookedvery much as he remembered it in the past, and he welcomed itsunchanged aspect. He strolled to many other remembered boyish haunts, and it seemed that the very lichens and mosses grew in the same placesas of old, and that nature had stood still and awaited his return. 

And yet every familiar object chided him for being so changed, and hebegan to find more of pain than pleasure as this contrast between whathe had been and what he might have been was constantly forced uponhim. 

"Oh that I had never left this place!" he exclaimed, bitterly: "Itwould have been better to stay here and drudge as a day laborer. Whathas that career out in the world to which I looked forward so ardentlyamounted to? The present is disappointment and self-disgust, thefuture an indefinite region of fears and forebodings, and even thehappy past is becoming a bitter mockery by reminding me of what cannever be again. "

Wearied and despondent, he moodily returned to the house and threwhimself on a lounge in the parlor. A smouldering wood fire upon thehearth softened the air to summer temperature. The heat was gratefulto his chilled, bloodless body, and gave him a luxurious sense ofphysical comfort, and he muttered: "I had about resolved to leave thisplace with its memories that are growing into torment, but I supposeit would be the same anywhere else. I am too weak and ill to face newscenes and discomfort. A little animal enjoyment and bodily respitefrom pain seem about all that is left to me of existence, and I thinkI can find these here better than elsewhere. If I am expected, however, to fall under the management of the daughter of the house onthe terms blurted out by that fidgety nephew of hers, I will fly formy life. A plague on him! His restlessness makes me nervous! If Icould endure a child at all, the blue-eyed little girl would make apretty toy. "

Sounds from the sitting-room behind the parlor now caught hisattention, and listening he soon became aware that Miss Walton wasteaching the children. "She has just the voice for a 'schoolmarm, '" hethought--"quick, clear-cut, and decided. "

If he had not given way to unreasonable prejudice he might also havenoted that there was nothing harsh or querulous in it. 

"With her management and love of nature, she doubtless thinks herselfthe personification of goodness. I suppose I shall be well lecturedbefore I get away. I had a foretaste of it this morning. 'Drawbacks ofcity life, ' forsooth! She no doubt regards me as a result of thesedisadvantages. But if she should come to deem it her mission toconvert or reform me, then will be lost my small remnant of peace andcomfort. "

But weakness and weariness soon inclined him to sleep. Miss Walton'svoice sounded far away. Then it passed into his dream as that of MissBently chiding him affectedly for his wayward tendencies; again it wasexplaining that conscientious young lady's "sense of duty" in view ofMr. Grobb's offer, and even in his sleep his face darkened with painand wrath. 

Just then, school hours being over, Miss Walton came into the parlor. For a moment, as she stood by the fire, she did not notice itsunconscious occupant. Then, seeing him, she was about to leave theroom noiselessly, when the expression of his face arrested her steps. 

If Annie Walton's eyes suggested the probability of "sudden gusts, "they also at times announced a warm, kind heart, for as she looked athim now her face instantly softened to pity. 

"Good he is not, " she thought, "but he evidently suffers in his evil. Something is blighting his life, and what can blight a life save evil?Perhaps I had better change my proposed crusade against his vanity andcynicism to a kind, sisterly effort toward making him a better andtherefore a happier man. It will soon come out in conversation that Ihave long been the same as engaged to another, and this will relieveme of absurd suspicions of designs upon him. If I could win a friendlyconfidence on his part, I'm sure I could tell him some wholesometruths, for even an enemy could scarcely look on that face withoutrelenting. "

There was nothing slow or cumbrous about Annie. These thoughts hadflashed through her mind during the brief moment in which her eyessoftened from surprise into sympathy as they caught the expression ofGregory's face. Then, fearing to disturb him, with silent tread shepassed out to her wonted morning duties. 

How seemingly accidental was that visit to the parlor! Its motiveindefinite and forgotten. Apparently it was but a trivial episode ofan uneventful day, involving no greater catastrophe than the momentaryrousing of a sleeper who would doze again. But what day can we withcertainty call uneventful? and what episode trivial? Those half-aimless, purposeless steps of Annie Walton into the quiet parlor mightlead to results that would radically change the endless future ofseveral lives. 

In her womanly, pitying nature, had not God sent His angel? If aviewless "ministering spirit, " as the sinful man's appointed guardian, was present, as many believe is the case with every one, how truly hemust have welcomed this unselfish human companionship in his lovinglabor to save life; for only they who rescue from sin truly save life. 

And yet the sleeper, even in his dreams, was evidently at war withhimself, the world, and God. He was an example of the truth that goodcomes from without and not from within us. It is heaven stooping tomen; heaven's messengers sent to us; truth quickened in our minds byheavenly influence, even as sunlight and rain awaken into beautifullife the seeds hidden in the soil; and, above all, impulses directfrom God, that steal into our hearts as the south wind penetrates ice-bound gardens in spring. 

But, alas! multitudes like Walter Gregory blind their eyes and steeltheir hearts against such influences. God and those allied to Himlonged to bring the healing of faith and love to his wounded spirit. He scowled back his answer, and, as he then felt, would shrink withmorbid sensitiveness and dislike from the kindest and most delicatepresentation of the transforming truth. But the divine love is everseeking to win our attention by messengers innumerable; now by theappalling storm, again by a summer sunset; now by an awful providence, again by a great joy; at times by stern prophets and teachers, butmore often by the gentle human agencies of which Annie was the type, as with pitying face she bent over the worn and jaded man of the worldand hoped and prayed that she might be able to act the part of a truesister toward him. Thorny and guarded was every avenue to his heart;and yet her feminine tact, combined with the softening and purifyinginfluence of his old home, might gain her words acceptance, where thewisest and most eloquent would plead in vain. 

After dinner he again hastened forth for a walk, his purpose being toavoid company, for he was so moody and morbid, so weak, nervous, andirritable, that the thought of meeting and decorously conversing withthose whose lives and character were a continual reproach to him wasintolerable. Then he had the impression that the "keen-eyed, plain-featured Miss Walton, " as he characterized her in his mind, wouldsurely commence discoursing on moral and religious subjects if he gaveher a chance; and he feared that if she did, he would say or dosomething very rude, and confirm the bad impression that he was sureof having already made. If he could have strolled into his club, andamong groups engaged with cards, papers, and city gossip, he wouldhave felt quite at home. Ties formed at such a place are not verystrong as a usual thing, and the manner of the world can isolate themembers and their real life completely, even when the rooms arethronged. As Gregory grew worn and thin and his pallor increased, ashe smoked and brooded more and more apart, his companions would shrugtheir shoulders significantly and whisper, "It looks as if Gregorywould go under soon. Something's the matter with him. "

At first good-natured men would say, "Come, Gregory, take a hand withus, " but when he complied it was with such a listless manner that theywere sorry they had asked him. At last, beyond mere passingcourtesies, they had come to leave him very much alone; and in hisunnatural and perverted state this was just what he most desired. Hiswhole being had become a diseased, sensitive nerve, shrinking mostfrom any effort toward his improvement, even as a finger pointed at afestering wound causes anticipatory agonies. 

At the club he would be let alone, but these good people would "takean interest in him, " and might even "talk religion, " and probe withquestions and surmises. If they did, he knew, from what he had alreadyseen of them, that they would try to do it delicately and kindly, buthe felt that the most considerate efforts would be like the surgicalinstruments of the dark ages. He needed good, decisive, heroictreatment. But who would have the courage and skill to give it? Whocared enough for him to take the trouble?

Not merely had Annie Walton looked with eyes of human pity upon hissin-marred visage that morning. The Divine personality, enthroned inthe depths of her soul and permeating her life, looked commiseratinglyforth also. Could demons glare from human eyes and God not smile fromthem?

As Annie thought much of him after her stolen glance in the morning, she longed to do that which he dreaded she would try to do--attempthis reformation. Not that she cared for him personally, or that shehad grown sentimentally interested in his Byronic style ofwretchedness. So far from it, her happy and healthful nature wasrepelled by his diseased and morbid one. She found him what girls calla "disagreeable man. " But she yearned toward a sinning, sufferingsoul, found in any guise. It was not in her woman's heart to pass byon the other side. 

CHAPTER VI

UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS

Gregory's afternoon walk was not very prolonged, for a shivering senseof discomfort soon drove him back to the house. Although the morninghad been cool, the sun had shone bright and warm, but now the fore-shadowing of a storm was evident. A haze had spread over the sky, increasing in leaden hue toward the west. The chilly wind moanedfitfully through the trees, and the landscape darkened like a faceshadowed by coming trouble. 

Walter dreaded a storm, fearing it would shut him up with the familywithout escape; but at last the sun so enshrouded itself in gloom thathe was compelled to return. He went to his room, for a book, hopingthat when they saw him engaged they would leave him more to himself. But to his agreeable surprise he found a cheerful fire blazing on thehearth, and an ample supply of wood in a box near. The easy-chair waswheeled forward, and a plate of grapes and the latest magazine wereplaced invitingly on the table. Even his cynicism was not proofagainst this, delicate thoughtfulness, and he exclaimed, "Ah, this isbetter than I expected, and a hundred-fold better than I deserve. Imake but poor return for their kindness. This cosey room seems to say, 'We won't force ourselves on you. You can be alone as much as youlike, ' for I suppose they must have noticed my disinclination forsociety. But they are wise after all, for I am cursed poor company formyself and worse than none at all for others. "

Eating from time to time a purple grape, he so lost himself in thefresh thoughts of the magazine that the tea-bell rang ere he wasaware. 

"In the name of decency I must try to make myself agreeable for alittle while this evening, " he muttered, as he descended to thecheerful supper-room. 

To their solicitude for his health and their regret that theapproaching storm had driven him so early to the house, he replied, "Ifound in my room a better substitute for the sunlight I had lost;though as a votary of nature, Miss Walton, I suppose you will regardthis assertion as rank heresy. "

"Not at all, for your firelight is the result of sunlight. " answeredAnnie, smiling. 

"How is that?"

"It required many summers to ripen the wood that blazed on yourhearth. Indeed, good dry wood is but concentrated sunshine put by forcold, gloomy days and chilly nights. "

"That is an odd fancy. I wish there were other ways of storing upsunshine for future use. "

"There are, " said Miss Walton, cheerfully; and she looked up as if shewould like to say more, but he instantly changed the subject in hisinstinctive wish to avoid the faintest approach to moralizing. Still, conversation continued brisk till Mr. Walton asked suddenly, "By theway, Mr. Gregory, have you ever met Mr. Hunting of Wall Street?"

There was no immediate answer, and they all looked inquiringly at him. To their surprise his face was darkened by the heaviest frown. After amoment he said, with peculiar emphasis, "Yes; I know him well. "

A chill seemed to fall on them after that; and he, glancing up, sawthat Annie looked flushed and indignant, Miss Eulie pained, and Mr. Walton very grave. Even the little boy shot vindictive glances at him. He at once surmised that Hunting was related to the family, and wasoppressed with the thought that he was fast losing the welcome givenhim on his father's account. But in a few moments Annie rallied andmade unwonted efforts to banish the general embarrassment, and withpartial success, for Gregory had tact and good conversational powersif he chose to exert them. When, soon after, they adjourned to theparlor, outward serenity reigned. 

On either side of the ample hearth, on which blazed a hickory fire, atable was drawn up. An easy-chair stood invitingly by each, with alittle carpet bench on which to rest the feet. 

"Take one of these, " said Mr. Walton, cordially, "and join me with acigar. The ladies of my household are indulgent to my small vices. "

"And I will send for your magazine, " said Annie, "and then you canread and chat according to your mood. You gee that we do not intend tomake a stranger of you. "

"For which I am very glad. You treat me far better than I deserve. "

Instead of some deprecatory remark, Annie gave him a quick, half-comical look which he did not fully understand. 

"There is more in her than I at first imagined, " he thought. 

Seated with the magazine, Gregory found himself in the enjoyment ofevery element of comfort. That he might be under no constraint totalk, Annie commenced speaking to her father and Miss Eulie of someneighborhood affairs, of which he knew nothing. The children and alarge greyhound were dividing the rug between them. The former werechatting in low tones and roasting the first chestnuts of the seasonon a broad shovel that was placed on the glowing coals. The dog wassleepily watching them lest in their quick movements his tail shouldcome to grief. 

Gregory had something of an artist's eye, and he could not helpglancing up from his reading occasionally, and thinking what a prettypicture the roomy parlor made. 

"Annie, " said Mr. Walton, after a little while, "I can't get throughthis article with my old eyes. Won't you finish it for me? Shall wedisturb you, Mr. Gregory?"

"Not at all. "

Gregory soon forgot to read himself in listening to her. Not that heheard the subject-matter with any interest, but her sweet, naturaltones and simplicity arrested and retained his attention. Even thestatistics and the prose of political economy seemed to fall from herlips in musical cadence, and yet there was no apparent effort and nota thought of effect. Walter mused as he listened. 

"I should like to hear some quiet, genial book read in that style, though it is evident that Miss Walton is no tragedy queen. "

Having finished the reading, Annie started briskly up and said, "Come, little people, your chestnuts are roasted and eaten. It's bedtime. Theturkeys and squirrels will be at the nut-trees long before you to-morrow unless you scamper off at once. "

"O, Aunt Annie, " chimed their voices, "you must sing us the chestnutsong first; you promised to. "

"With your permission, Mr. Gregory, I suppose I must make my promisegood, " said Annie. 

"I join the children in asking for the song, " he replied, glad to getthem out of the way on such easy conditions, though he expected anursery ditty or a juvenile hymn from some Sabbath-school collection, wherein healthy, growing boys are made to sing, "I want to be anangel. " "Moreover, " he added, "I have read that one must always keepone's word to a child. "

"Which is a very important truth: do you not think so?"

"Since you are using the word 'truth' so prominently, Miss Walton, Imust say that I have not thought much about it. But I certainly wouldhave you keep your word on this occasion. "

"Aunt Annie always keeps her word, " said Johnny, rather bluntly. Bysome childish instinct he divined that Gregory did not appreciate AuntAnnie sufficiently, and this added to his prejudice. 

"You have a stout little champion there, " Gregory remarked. 

"I cannot complain of his zeal, " she answered significantly, at thesame time giving the boy a caress. "Mr. Gregory, this is a rudecountry ballad, and we are going to sing it in our accustomed way, even though it shock your city ears. Johnny and Susie, you can join inthe chorus;" and she sang the following simple October glee:

 Katydid, your throat is sore, You can chirp this fall no more; Robin red-breast, summer's past, Did you think 'twould always last? Fly away to sunny climes, Lands of oranges and limes; With the squirrels we shall stay And put our store of nuts away. O the spiny chestnut burrs! O the prickly chestnut burrs! Harsh without, but lined with down, And full of chestnuts, plump and brown. 

 Sorry are we for the flowers; We shall miss our summer bowers; Still we welcome frosty Jack, Stealing now from Greenland back. And the burrs will welcome him; When he knocks, they'll let him in. They don't know what Jack's about; Soon he'll turn the chestnuts out. O the spiny, etc. -

 Turkey gobbler, with your train, You shall scratch the leaves in vain; Squirrel, with your whisking tail, Your sharp eyes shall not avail; In the crisp and early dawn, Scampering across the lawn. We will beat you to the trees, Come you then whene'er you please. O the spiny, etc. --

Gregory's expression as she played a simple prelude was one ofendurance, but when she began to sing the changes of his face wererapid. First he turned toward her with a look of interest, then ofsurprise. Miss Eulie could not help watching him, for, though she waswell on in life, just such a character had never risen above herhorizon. Too gentle to censure, she felt that she had much cause forregret. 

At first she was pleased to see that he found the ditty far more tohis taste than he had expected. But the rapid alternation from pleasedsurprise and enjoyment to something like a scowl of despair and almosthate she could not understand. Following his eyes she saw them restingon the boy, who was now eagerly joining in the chorus of the lastverse. She was not sufficiently skilled to know that to Gregory'sdiseased moral nature things most simple and wholesome in themselveswere most repugnant. She could not understand that the tripping littlesong, with its wild-wood life and movement--that the boy singing withthe delight of a pure, fresh heart--told him, beyond the power oflabored language, how hackneyed and blase he had become, how far andhopelessly he had drifted from the same true childhood. 

And Miss Walton, turning suddenly toward him, saw the same darkexpression, full of suffering and impotent revolt at his destiny, ashe regarded it, and she too was puzzled. 

"You do not like our foolish little song, " she said. 

"I envy that boy, Miss Walton, " was his reply. 

Then she began to understand him, and said, gently, "You have nooccasion to. "

"I wish you, or any one, could find the logic to prove that. "

"The proof is not in logic but in nature, that is ever young. They whodraw their life from nature do not fall into the only age we needdread. "

"Do you not expect to grow old?"

She shook her head half humorously and said, "But these children willbefore I get them to bed. "

He ostensibly resumed his magazine, but did not turn any leaves. 

His first mental query was, "Have I rightly gauged Miss Walton? I halfbelieve she understands me better than I do her. I estimated her as agoodish, fairly educated country girl, of the church-going sort, onethat would be dreadfully shocked at finding me out, and deem it atonce her mission to pluck me as a brand from the burning. I know allabout the goodness of such girls. They are ignorant of the world; theyhave never been tempted, and they have a brood of little feminineweaknesses that of course are not paraded in public. 

"And no doubt all this is true of Miss Walton, and yet, for somereason, she interests me a little this evening. She is refined, butnowhere in the world will you meet drearier monotony and barrennessthan among refined people. Having no real originality, their littleoddities are polished away. In Miss Walton I'm beginning to catchglimpses of vistas unexplored, though perhaps I am a fool for thinkingso. 

"What a peculiar voice she has! She would make a poor figure, no doubt, in an opera; and yet she might render a simple aria very well. But forsongs of nature and ballads I have never heard so sympathetic a voice. It suggests a power of making music a sweet home language instead of adifficult, high art, attainable by few. Really Miss Walton is worthinvestigation, for no one with such a voice can be utterlycommonplace. Strange as it is, I cannot ignore her. Though she makesno effort to attract my attention, I am ever conscious of herpresence. "

CHAPTER VII

A CONSPIRACY

When Miss Walton returned to the parlor her father said, "Annie, I amgoing to trespass on your patience again. "

She answered with a little piquant gesture, and was soon reading innatural, easy tones, without much stumbling, what must have been Greekto her. 

Gregory watched her with increasing interest, and another questionthan the one of finance involved in the article was rising in hismind. 

"Is this real? Is this seeming goodness a fact?" It was the veryessence of his perverted nature to doubt it. Now that his eyes wereopened, and he closely observed Miss Walton, he saw that hisprejudices against her were groundless. Although not a stylish, prettywoman, she was evidently far removed from the goodish, commonplacecharacter that he could regard as part of the furniture of the house, useful in its place, but of no more interest than a needful piece ofcabinet work. Nor did she assert herself as do those aggressive, lecturing females who deem it their mission to set everybody rightwithin their sphere. 

And yet she did assert herself; but he was compelled to admit that itwas like the summer breeze or the perfume of a rose. He had resolvedthat very day to avoid and ignore her as far as possible, and yet, before the first evening in her presence was half over, he had left amagazine story unfinished; he was watching her, thinking and surmisingabout her, and listening, as she read, to what he did not care a strawabout. Although she had not made the slightest effort, some influencefrom her had stolen upon him like a cool breeze on a sultry day, andwooed him as gently as the perfume of a flower that is sweet to all. He said to himself, "She is not pretty, " and yet found pleasure inwatching her red lips drop figures and financial terms as musically asa little rill murmurs over a mossy rock. 

From behind his magazine he studied the group at the opposite table, but it was with the pain which a despairing swimmer, swept seaward bya resistless current, might feel in seeing the safe and happy on theshore. 

Gray Mr. Walton leaned back in his chair, the embodiment of peace andplacid content. 

The subject to which he was listening and kindred topics had so farreceded that his interest was that of a calm, philosophic observer, and Gregory thought, with a glimmer of a smile, "He is not dabbling instocks or he could not maintain that quiet mien. "

His habits of thought as a business man merely made it a pleasure tokeep up with the times. In fact he was in that serene border-landbetween the two worlds where the questions of earth are growing vagueand distant and those of the "better country" more real andengrossing, for Gregory observed, later in the evening, that he tookthe family Bible with more zest than he had bestowed on the motivepower of the world. It was evident where his most valued treasureswere stored. With a bitter sigh, Gregory thought, "I would take hisgray hairs if I could have his peace and faith. "

Miss Eulie, to whom he gave a passing glance, seemed even less earthlyin her nature. Indeed, it appeared as if she had never more than halfbelonged to the material creation. Slight, ethereal, with untroubledblue eyes, and little puff curls too light to show their change togray, she struck Gregory unpleasantly, as if she were a connectinglink between gross humanity and spiritual existence, and his eyesreverted to Miss Walton, and dwelt with increasing interest on her. There at least were youth, health, and something else--what was it inthe girl that had so strongly and suddenly gained his attention? Atany rate there was nothing about her uncanny and spirit-like. 

He did not understand her. Was it possible that a young girl, not muchbeyond twenty, was happy in the care of orphan children, in the quiethumdrum duties of housekeeping, and in reading stupid articles throughthe long, quiet evenings, with few excitements beyond church-going, rural tea-drinkings, and country walks and rides? With a grim smile hethought how soon the belles he had admired would expire under such aregimen. Could this be good acting because a guest was present? If soit was perfect, for it seemed, her daily life. 

"I will watch her, " he thought. "I will solve this little feminineenigma. It will divert my mind, and I've nothing else to do. "

"My daughter spoils me, you see, Mr. Gregory, " said Mr. Walton, starting up as Annie finished a theory that would make every one richby the printing-press process, "Don't plume yourself, papa, " replied Annie, archly; "I shall make youdo something for me to pay for all this. "

With a humorous look he replied, "No matter, I have the best of thebargain, for I should have to do the 'something' anyway. But what doyou think of this theory, sir?" And he explained, not knowing thatWalter had been listening. 

The gentlemen were soon deep in the mysteries of currency and finance, topics on which both could talk well. Annie listened with politeattention for a short time--indeed Gregory was exerting himself morefor her sake than for Mr. Walton's--and she was satisfied from herfather's face that his guest was interesting him; but as the subjectwas mainly unintelligible to her she soon turned with real zest toMiss Eulie's fancy-work, and there was an earnest whispered discussionin regard to the right number of stitches. Walter noted this andsneeringly thought, with a masculine phase of justice often seen, "That's like a woman. She drops one of the deepest and most importantsubjects of the day" (and he might have added, "As explained by me")--"and gives her whole soul to a bit of thread lace;" and he soon letMr. Walton have the discussion all his own way. 

In furtherance of his purpose to draw Annie out he said, ratherbanteringly, "Miss Walton, I am astonished that so good a man as yourfather should have as an ardent friend the profane and disreputablecharacter that I found living in the cottage opposite on the day of myarrival. "

"Profane, I admit he is, " she replied, "but not disreputable. Indeed, as the world goes, I think old Daddy Tuggar, as he is called in thisvicinity, is a good man. "

"O, Annie!" said Miss Eulie. "How can you think so? You have broadercharity than I. He is breaking his poor wife's heart. "

"Indeed?" said Annie, dryly; "I was not aware of it. "

"I too am astonished, " said Walter, in mock solemnity. "How is it thata refined and orthodox young lady, a pillar of the church, too, Igather, can regard with other than unmixed disapprobation a man whobreaks the third commandment and all the rules of Lindley Murray atevery breath?"

"I imagine the latter offence is the more heinous sin in your eyes, Mr. Gregory, " she said, scanning his face with a quick look. 

"Oh, you become aggressive. I was under the impression that I wasmaking the attack and that you were on the defensive. But I canreadily explain the opinion which you, perhaps not unjustly, impute tome. You and I judge this venerable sinner from different standpoints. "

"You explain your judgment, but do not justify it, " replied Annie, quietly. 

"Annie, I don't see on what grounds you call Daddy Tuggar a good man, "said Miss Eulie, emphatically. 

"Please understand me, aunty, " said Annie, earnestly. "I did not sayhe was a Christian man, but merely a good man as the world goes; and Iknow I shall shock you when I say that I have more faith in him thanin his praying and Scripture-quoting wife. There, I knew I should, "she added, as she saw Miss Eulie's look of pained surprise. 

Mr. Walton was listening with an amused smile. He evidently understoodhis quaint old friend and shared Annie's opinion of him. 

Gregory was growing decidedly interested, and said, "Really, MissWalton, I must side with your aunt in this matter. I shall overwhelmyou with an awful word. I think you are latitudinarian in yourtendencies. "

"Which Daddy Tuggar would call a new-fangled way of swearing at me, "retorted Annie, with her frank laugh that was so genuinely mirthfulthat even Aunt Eulie joined in it. 

"I half think, " continued Annie, "that the churchmen in the ages ofcontroversy did a good deal of worse swearing than our old neighbor isguilty of when they hurled at each other with such bitter zest theepithets Antinomian, Socinian, Pelagian, Calvinistic, etc. "

"Those terms have an awful sound. They smite my ear with all the powerthat vagueness imparts, and surely must have caused stout hearts totremble in their day, " he remarked. 

"We are no longer on the ground of currency and finance, " said Annie, archly, "and I shall leave you to imagine that I know all about theideas represented by the polysyllabic terms of churchmen's warfare. "

He looked at her a moment in comic dismay. Really this country girlwas growing too much for him in his game of banter. 

"Miss Walton, I shall not dispute or question your knowledge of theSocin--cin--(you know the rest) heresy--"

"Alas!" put in Annie, quietly, "I do know all about the 'sin heresy. 'I can say that honestly. "

"I am somewhat inclined to doubt that, " he said, quickly; then added, in sudden and mock severity, "Miss Walton, if I were a judge upon thebench I should charge that you were evading the question and befoggingthe case. The point at issue is, How can you regard Daddy Tuggar as agood man? As evidence against him I can affirm that I do not rememberto have had such a good square cursing in my life, and I have receivedseveral. "

This last expression caused Miss Eulie to open her eyes at him. 

"Not for your sake, sir, " said Annie, with a keen yet humorous glanceat him, "who as judge on the bench have in your pocket a writtenverdict, I fear, but for Aunt Eulie's I will give the reasons for myestimate. I regard her in the light of an honest jury. In the firstplace the term you used, 'square, ' applies to him. I do not think hecould be tempted to do a dishonest thing; and that, as the world goes, is certainly a good point. "

"And as the church goes, too, " he added, cynically. 

"He is a good neighbor, and considerate of the rights of others. Hecan feel, and is not afraid to show a sincere indignation when seeinga wrong done to another. "

"I can vouch for that. I shall steal no more of your apples, Mr. Walton. "

"There is not a particle of hypocrisy about him. I wish I could thinkthe same of his wife. For some reason she always gives me theimpression of insincerity. If I were as good as you are, aunty, perhaps I should not be so suspicious. One thing more, and my eulogyof Daddy--the only one he will ever receive, I fear--is over. He iscapable of sincere friendship, and that is more than you can say of agreat many. "

"It is indeed, " said Gregory, with bitter emphasis. "I should bewilling to take my chances with Daddy Tuggar in this or any otherworld. "

"You had better not, " she answered, now thoroughly in earnest. 

"Why so?"

"I should think memories of this place would make my meaning clear, "she replied, gently. 

Gregory's face darkened, and he admitted to himself that mostunexpectedly she had sent an arrow home, and yet he could take noexception. 

His indifference toward her had vanished now. So far from regardingher as a dull, good, country girl with a narrow horizon of littlefeminine and commonplace interests, he began to doubt whether heshould be able to cope with her in the tilt of thought. He saw thatshe was quick, original, and did her own thinking, that in reparteeshe hit back unexpectedly, in flashes, as the lightning strikes fromthe clouds. He could not keep pace with her quick intuition. 

Moreover, in her delicate reference to his parents' faith she hadsuggested an argument for Christianity that he had never been able toanswer. For a little time she had caused him to forget his wretchedself, but her last remark had thrown him back on his old doubts, fears, and memories. As we have said, his cynical, despondentexpression returned, and he silently lowered at the fire. 

Annie had too much tact to add a word. "He must be hurt--well probedindeed--before he can be well, " she thought. 

Country bedtime had now come, and Mr. Walton said, "Mr. Gregory, Itrust you will not find our custom of family prayers distasteful. "

"The absence of such a custom would seem strange to me in this place, "he replied, but he did not say whether it would be agreeable ordistasteful. 

Annie went to the piano as if it were a habit, and after a momentchose the tender hymn--

 "Come, ye disconsolate. "

At first, in his morbid sensitiveness, he was inclined to resent thisselection as aimed at him, but soon he was under the spell of themusic and the sentiment, which he thought had never before been soexquisitely blended. 

Miss Walton was not very finished or artistic in anything. She wouldnot be regarded as a scholar, even among the girls of her own age andstation, and her knowledge of classical music was limited. But she wasgifted in a peculiar degree with tact, a quick perception, and thepower of interpreting the language of nature and of the heart. Sheread and estimated character rapidly. Almost intuitively she sawpeople's needs and weaknesses, but so far was she from making them theground of satire and contempt that they awakened her pity and desireto help. In other words, she was one of those Christians who in somedegree catch the very essence of Christ's character, who lived anddied to save. She did not think of condemning the guilty anddisconsolate man that brooded at her fireside, but she did long tohelp him. 

"I may never be able to say such words to him directly, " she thought, "but I can sing them, and if he leaves our home to-morrow he shallhear the truth once more. "

And she did sing with tenderness and feeling. In rendering somethingthat required simplicity, nature, and pathos, no prima donna couldsurpass her, for while her voice was not powerful, and had no unusualcompass, it was as sweet as that of a thrush in May. 

Only deaf ears and a stony heart could have remained insensible, andGregory was touched. A reviving breath from Paradise seemed to blowupon him and gently urge, "Arise, struggle, make one more effort, andyou may yet cross the burning sands of the desert. It is not a miragethat is mocking you now. "

As the last words trembled from the singer's lips he shaded his eyeswith the hand on which his head was leaning, but Miss Eulie saw a tearfall with momentary glitter, and she exulted over it as his good angelmight have done. 

If penitent tears could be crystallized they would be the only gems ofearth that angels would covet, and perhaps God's co-workers here willfind those that they caused to flow on earth, set as gems in their"crown of glory that fadeth not away. "

Mr. Walton, in reverential tones, read the fifty-third chapter ofIsaiah, which, with greater beauty and tenderness, carried forward thethought of the hymn; and then he knelt and offered a prayer that wasso simple and child-like, so free from form and cant, and so directfrom the heart, that Gregory was deeply moved. The associations of hisearly home were now most vividly revealed and crowned by the sacredhour of family worship, the memory of which, like a reproachful face, had followed him in all his evil life. 

When he arose from his knees he again shaded his face with his hand tohide his wet eyes and twitching muscles. After a few moments he badethe family an abrupt goodnight, and retired to his room. 

At first they merely exchanged significant glances. Then Miss Eulietold of the tear as if it were a bit of dust from a mine that mightenrich them all. For a while Annie sat thoughtfully gazing into thefire, but at last she said, "It must be plain to us that Mr. Gregoryhas wandered further from his old home in spirit than he has in body;but it seems equally evident that he is not happy and content. Heseems suffering and out of health in soul and body. Perhaps God hassent him to us and to his childhood's home for healing. Let us, therefore, be very careful, very tender and considerate. He isnaturally proud and sensitive, and is morbidly so now. "

"I think he is near the Kingdom, " said Miss Eulie, with a little sighof satisfaction. 

"Perhaps all are nearer than we think, " said Annie, in a musing tone. "God is not far from any one of us. But it is the curse of sin toblind. He has, no doubt, been long in reaching his present unhappycondition, and he may be long in escaping from it. "

"Well, the Lord reigns, " said Mr. Walton, sententiously, as if thatsettled the question. 

"Dear old father!" said Annie, smiling fondly at him, "that's yourfavorite saying. You have a comfortable habit of putting allperplexing questions into the Lord's hand and borrowing no furthertrouble. Perhaps that is the wisest way after all, only one is a longtime learning it. "

"I've been a long time learning it, my child, " said her father. "Letus agree to carry his case often to the throne of mercy, and in Hisgood time and way our prayers will be answered. "

Thus in quaint old scriptural style they conspired for the life oftheir unconscious guest. This was in truth a "holy alliance. " How manydark conspiracies there have been, resulting in blood, wrong, andoutrage, that some unworthy brow might wear for a little time a petty, perishing crown of earth! Oh, that there were more conspiracies likethat in Mr. Walton's parlor for the purpose of rendering the unworthyfit to wear the crown immortal!

CHAPTER VIII

WITCHCRAFT

Miss Eulie was doomed to disappointment, for Gregory came down late tobreakfast the following morning with not a trace of his softenedfeelings. Indeed, because of pride, or for some reason, he chose toseem the very reverse of all she had hoped. The winter of his unbeliefcould not pass away so easily. 

Even in January there are days of sudden relenting, when the frost'sicy grasp upon nature seems to relax. Days that rightfully belong tospring drop down upon us with birds that have come before their time. But such days may end in a northeast snowstorm and the birds perish. 

The simile appeared true of Gregory. As far as he took part in thetable-talk he was a cold, finished man of the world, and the gloom ofthe early morning rested on his face. But Annie noticed that he madean indifferent breakfast and did not appear well. 

After he had retired to his room to write some letters, as he said, she remarked to her father when alone with him:

"I suppose you remember Mr. Gregory's manner when you spoke of Mr. Hunting. They evidently are acquainted and not on good terms. Whatcould have occurred between them?"

"Some quarrel resulting from business, perhaps, " said Mr. Walton, musingly. 

"I believe Charles has been trying to restrain Mr. Gregory in some ofhis fast ways, " Annie continued, emphatically, "and they have had hotwords. Men have so little discretion in their zeal. "

"Business men are not apt to interfere with each other's foiblesunless they threaten their pockets, " her father replied. "It is moreprobable that Gregory has borrowed money of Hunting, and beencompelled to pay it against his will; and yet I have no right tosurmise anything of the kind. "

"But Mr. Hunting is not a mere business man, father. He is bent ondoing good wherever he can find opportunity. I incline to my solution. But it is clear that we must be silent in regard to him while Mr. Gregory is with us, for I never saw such bitter enmity expressed inany face. It is well that Charles is to be absent for some time, andthat we have no prospect of a visit from him while our guest is here. Oh, dear! I wish Charles could come and make us a visit instead ofthis moody, wayward stranger. "

"I can echo that wish heartily, Annie, for in the son I find little ofmy old friend, his father. But remember what you said last night. Itmay be that he was sent to us in order that we should help him becomewhat his father was. "

"I will do my best; but I do not look forward to his society with muchpleasure. Still, if there should be any such result as we hope for, Ishould feel repaid a thousand-fold. "

Gregory finished his letters and then paced restlessly up and down hisroom. 

"That this country girl should have so moved me!" he muttered. "Whatdoes it mean? What is there about her that takes hold of my attentionand awakens my interest? I wish to go downstairs now, and talk to her, and have her read to me, and am provoked with myself that I do. Yesterday at this time I wished to avoid her. 

"Why should I wish to avoid her? If she amuses me, diverts my mind, beguiles my pain, or more dreary apathy, why not let her exert herpower to the utmost and make herself useful? Yes, but she will try todo more than amuse. Well, suppose she does; one can coolly foil suchefforts. Not so sure of that. If I were dealing with a man I could, but one must be worse than a clod to hear her sing and not feel. Isuppose I made a weak fool of myself before them all last night, andthey thought I was on the eve of conversion. I half wish I were, or onthe eve of anything else. Any change from my present state would seema relief. But a man cannot go into these things like an impulsivegirl, even if he believes in them, which is more than I do. I seem tohave fallen into a state of moral and physical imbecility, in which Ican only doubt, suffer, and chafe. 

"I won't avoid her. I will study and analyze her character. I doubtwhether she is as good, fresh, and original as she seems. Such girlsexist only in moral stories, and I've met but few even there. I willsolve her mystery. Probably it is not a very deep one, and after a dayor two she will become an old story and life resume its normalmonotony;" and he at once descended the stairs to carry out hispurpose. 

The children were just coming from the sitting-room where they hadtheir school, exclaiming, "Oh, aunty, what shall we do this awfulrainy day?"

"Wait till I have given some directions to Zibbie, and I will read youa fairy story, and then you can go up into the garret until dinner-time. "

"May I listen to the fairy story also?" asked Walter. 

Miss Walton looked up with a smile and said, "You must be half-desperate from your imprisonment to accept of such solace. But if youcan wait till I have kept my word to the children I will readsomething more to your taste. "

"I think I should like to hear how a fairy story sounds once againafter all these years. "

"As Shakespeare may sound to us some time in the future, " she replied, smiling. 

"I can't believe we shall ever outgrow Shakespeare, " he said. 

"I can believe it, but cannot understand how it is possible. As yet Iam only growing up to Shakespeare. "

"You seem very ready to believe what you cannot understand. "

"And that is woman's way, I suppose you would like to add, " sheanswered, smiling over her shoulder, as she turned to the kitchendepartment. "You men have a general faith that there will be dinner attwo o'clock, though you understand very little how it comes to pass, and if you are disappointed the best of your sex have not fortitudeenough to wait patiently, so I must delay no longer to propitiate thekitchen divinity. "

"There!" he said, "I have but crossed her steps in the hall, and shehas stirred me and set my nerves tingling like an October breeze. Sheis a witch. "

After a few minutes Miss Walton entered. Each of the children calledfor a story, and both clamored for their favorites. 

"Johnny, " said Miss Walton, "it is manly to yield to the least andweakest, especially if she be a little woman. "

The boy thought a moment, and then with an amusing assumption ofdignity said, "You may read Susie's story first, aunty. "

"Susie, promise Johnny that his story shall be read first next time;"which Susie promptly did with a touch of the womanly grace whichaccompanies favors bestowed after the feminine will has triumphed. 

"Now, little miniature man and woman, listen!" and their round eyeswere ready for the world of wonders. 

And this child of nature was at the same time showing Gregory a worldas new and strange--a world that he had caught glimpses of when a boy, but since had lost hopelessly. She carried the children away intofairy-land. She suggested to him a life in which simplicity, truth, and genuine goodness might bring peace and hope to the heart. 

"Well, what do you think of the fairy story?" she asked after she hadfinished and the children had drawn sighs of intense relief at thehappy denouement, in which the ugly ogre was slain and the prince andprincess were married:

"I did not hear it, " he said. 

"That's complimentary. But you appeared listening very closely. "

"You have heard of people reading a different meaning between thelines, and I suppose one can listen to a different meaning. "

"And what could you find between the lines of this fairy tale?" sheasked with interest. 

"It would be difficult for me to explain--something too vague andindefinite for words, I fear. But if you will read me something else Iwill listen to the text itself. "

"Come, children, scamper off to the garret, " said Annie, "and rememberyou are nearer heaven up there, and so must be very kind and gentle toeach other. "

"You will fill those youngsters' heads with beautiful superstitions. "

"Superstition and faith are not so very far apart, though so unlike. "

"Yes, it is hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins. "

"Is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"I don't like to contradict you, sir. "

"You have contradicted me, and I suppose it is manly to yield to alady. '"

"Not in matters of principle and honest conviction. "

"Alas! if one has not very much of either!"

"It is a very great misfortune, and, I suppose I ought to add, fault. "

"I have no doubt it is a misfortune, Miss Walton, but you are notreading. "

"Well, make your choice. "

"I leave it entirely to you. "

"You don't look very well to-day. I will select something light andcheerful from Dickens. "

"Excuse me, please. I am in no mood for his deliberate purpose to makeone laugh. "

"Then here is Irving. His style flows like a meadowbrook. "

"No, he is too sentimental. "

"Walter Scott, then, will form a happy medium. "

"No, he wearies one with explanations and history. "

"Some of Tennyson's dainty idylls will suit your fastidious taste. "

"I couldn't abide his affected, stilted language to-day. "

"Shakespeare, then; you regard him as perfect. "

"No, he makes me think, and I do not wish to. "

"Well, here are newspapers, the latest magazine, and some new novels. "

"Modern rubbish--a mushroom growth. They will soon kindle kitchenfires instead of thought. "

"Then I must make an expedition to the library. What shall I bring?There is Mosheim's 'Ecclesiastical Ancient History'; that has a solid, venerable sound. Or, if you prefer poetry, I will get Gray's 'Elegy. 'That cannot be a literary mushroom, for he was twenty years writingit. But perhaps it is Tupper you would like. That would suit your moodexactly, Tupper's 'Proverbial Philosophy. '"

"You are growing satirical, Miss Walton. Why don't you assert plainlythat I am as full of whims as a--"

"Woman, would you like to say?"

"Present company excepted. The fact is, I am two-thirds ill to-day, and the most faultless style and theme in our language would weary me. I am possessed by the evil spirits of ennui, unrest, and disgust atmyself and all the world, present company always excepted. Do you knowof any spell that can exorcise these demons?"

"Yes, a very simple one. Will you put yourself absolutely in my powerand obey?"

"I am your slave. "

Miss Walton left the room and soon returned with a large afghan. "Youmust take a horizontal position in order that my spell may work. "

"Pshaw! you are prescribing an ordinary nap. "

"I am glad to say the best things in this world are ordinary. Butpermit me to suggest that in view of your pledged word you havenothing to do in this matter but to obey. "

"Very well;" and he threw himself on the sofa. 

"The day is chilly, sir, and I must throw this afghan over you;" andshe did so with a little touch of delicacy which is so grateful whenone is indisposed. 

Her manner both soothed and pleased him. 

He was more lonely than he realized, for it had been years since hehad experienced woman's gentle care and ministry; and Annie Walton hada power possessed by few to put jangling nerves at rest. Suddenly hesaid, "I wish I had a sister like you. "

"My creed, you know, " she replied, "makes all mankind kindred. "

"Nonsense!" said Gregory, irritably; "deliver me from your churchsisters. "

"Take care!" she answered, with a warning nod, "I'm a church sister;so don't drive me away, for I am going to sing you to sleep. "

"I'm half inclined to join your church that I may call you sister. "

"You would be disciplined and excommunicated within a month. But hush;you must not talk. "

"How would you treat me after I had been anathematized?"

"If you were as ill as you are to-day I would make you sleep. Hush;not another word. I am going to sing. "

A luxurious sense of comfort stole over him, and he composed himselfto listen and criticise, little imagining, though, that he would fallasleep. He saw through the window a lowering sky with leaden cloudsdriven wildly across it. The wind moaned and soughed around the anglesof the house, and the rain beat against the glass. All without seemedemblematic of himself. But now he had a brief but blessed sense ofshelter from both the storm and himself. The fire blazed cheerily onthe hearth. The afghan seemed to envelop him like a genial atmosphere. Had Miss Walton bewitched it by her touch? And now she has foundsomething to suit her, or rather him, and is singing. 

"What an unusual voice she has!" he thought "Truly the spirit ofDavid's harp, that could banish the demon from Saul, dwells in it. Iwonder if she is as good and real as she seems, or whether, under thestress of temptation or the poison of flattery, she would not showherself a true daughter of Eve? I must find out, for it is about theonly remaining question that interests me. If she is like the rest ofus--if she is a female Hunting--then good-by to all hope. I shall notlive to find anybody or anything to trust. If she is what she seems, it's barely possible that she might help me out of this horrible'slough of despond, ' if she would take the trouble. I wish that shewere my sister, or that my sister had lived and had been just likeher. "

CHAPTER IX

MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY

To Gregory's surprise he waked and then admitted to himself that, contrary to his expectation and purpose, he had been asleep. His lastremembered consciousness was that of sweet, low music; and how longago was that? He looked at his watch; it was nearly two, and he musthave slept several hours. He glanced around and saw that he was alone, but the fire still blazed on the hearth, and the afghan infolded himwith its genial warmth as before, and it seemed that although byhimself he was still cared for. 

"She is a witch, " he muttered. "Her spells are no jokes. But I willinvestigate her case like an old-time Salem inquisitor. With more thanYankee curiosity, which was at the bottom of their superstitiousquestionings, I will pry into her power. But she will find that shehas a wary sceptic to convince. I have seen too many saints andsinners to be again deceived by fair seeming. "

A broad ray of sunlight shot across the room. "By my soul! it'sclearing off. Is this her work also? Has she swept away the cloudswith her broomstick? And there goes the dinner-bell, too;" and he wentto his room two steps at a time, as he had done when a boy. 

Annie coming out of the sitting-room at that moment, smiled and said:"He must be better. "

At the table she asked, "How do you find yourself now?"

"Much given to appetite. " Then, turning to Mr. Walton, he said, abruptly, "Do you believe in witchcraft?"

"Well, no, sir, " said Mr. Walton, a little taken aback. 

"I do!" continued he, emphatically. 

"When and where have you had experience of the black art?"

"This morning, and in your house, sir. "

"You seem none the worse for it, " said his host, smiling. 

"Indeed, I have not felt so well in months. Your larder will suffer ifI am practiced upon any more. "

"Well, of all modern and prosaic results of witchery this exceeds, "said Annie, laughing, "since only a good appetite comes of it. "

"It yet remains to be seen whether this is the only result, " repliedGregory. "What possessed the old Puritans to persecute the Salemwitches is a mystery to me, if their experience was anything likemine. "

"You must remember that the question of what was agreeable orotherwise scarcely entered into a Puritan's motives. "

"I am not so sure of that, " he answered, quickly. "It has ever seemedto me that the good people of other days went into persecution with azeal that abstract right can hardly account for. People will havetheir excitements, and a good rousing persecution used to stir thingslike the burning of Chicago or a Presidential election in our day. "

"Granting, " said Annie, "the bigotry and cruelty of the persecutor--and these must be mainly charged to the age--still you must admit thatamong them were earnest men who did from good motives what appearsvery wrong to us. What seemed to them evil and destructive principleswere embodied in men and women, and they meant to destroy the evilthrough the suffering and death of these poor creatures. "

"And then consider the simplicity and ease of the persecutor'smethod, " continued Gregory, mockingly. "A man's head has become fullof supposed doctrinal errors. To refute and banish these would requiremuch study and argument on the part of the opponent. It was so mucheasier to take an obstinate heretic's head off than to argue with him!I think it was the simplicity of the persecutor's method that kept itin favor so long. "

"But it never convinced any one, " said Annie, "and the man killedmerely goes into another world of the same opinion still. "

"And there probably learns, poor fellow, that both were wrong, andthat he had better have been content with good dinners and a quietlife, and let theology alone. "

"The world would move but slowly, if all men were content with 'gooddinners and a quiet life, '" said Annie, satirically. "But you have notanswered my question. Could not good, earnest men have been verycruel, believing that everything depended on their uprooting some evilof their day?"

"To tell the truth, Miss Walton, " he replied, a little nettled, "Ihave no sympathy with that style of men. To me they are very repulsiveand ridiculous. They remind me of the breathless, perspiringpoliticians of our time, who button-hole you and assert that the worldwill come to an end unless John Smith is elected. To me, the desperateearnestness of people who imagine it their mission to set the worldright is excessively tiresome. For one man or a thousand to proclaimthat they speak for God and embody truth, and that the race shouldlisten and obey, is the absurdity of arrogance. "

"If we were to agree with you, should we not have to say that theprophets should have kept their visions to themselves, and that Luthershould have remained in his cell, and Columbus have coasted alongshoreand not insisted on what was to all the world an absurdity?"

"Come, Miss Walton, " said Gregory, with a vexed laugh as they rosefrom the table, "you are a witch. I am willing to argue with flesh andblood, but I would rather hear you sing. Still, since you have sweptaway these clouds so I can have my ramble, I will forgive you forunhorsing me in our recent tilt. "

"If you would mount some good honest hobby and ride it hard, I doubtwhether any one could unhorse you, " she replied in a low tone, as sheaccompanied him to the parlor. 

"Men with hobbies are my detestation, Miss Walton. "

"Nevertheless, they are the true knights-errant of our age. Of courseit depends upon what kind of hobbies they ride, or whether they canmanage their steeds. "

"Miss Walton, your figure suggests a half-idiot, with a narrowforehead and one idea, banging back and forth on a wooden horse, butmaking no progress--in other words, a fussy, bustling man who can doand talk but one thing. "

"Your understanding of the popular phrase is narrow and literal, andwhile it may have such a meaning, it can also have a very differentone. Suppose that, instead of looking with languid eyes alike upon allthings, a man finds some question of vital import, or a pursuit thatpromises good to himself and to others and that enlists his interest. He comes at last to give it his best energies and thought. The wholecurrent of his life is setting in that direction. Of course he mustever be under the restraints of good sense and refinement. A man'slife without a hobby is a weak and wavering line of battleindefinitely long. One's life with a hobby is a concentrated charge. "

There was in Miss Walton's face and manner, as she uttered thesewords, that which caused him to regard her with involuntaryadmiration. Suddenly he asked, "Have you a hobby?"

Her manner changed instantly, and with an arch look she said, "If youdetest a man with a hobby, what a monster a woman with one would be inyour eyes!"

"I have admitted that you are a witch. "

"Oh, I am a monster already, and so have no character to lose. Butwhere is your penetration? If a man with a hobby is idiotic, narrow-browed, fussy and bustling, excessively obtrusive with his one idea, awoman must be like him with all these things exaggerated. Has it notoccurred to you that I have a hobby of the most wooden and clumsyorder?"

"But that was my idea of a hobby. You have spiritualized my woodenblock into a Pegasus--the symbol of inspiration. Have you such ahobby?"

"I have. "

"What is it?"

She went out of the room, saying smilingly over her shoulder, "Youmust find that out for yourself. "

CHAPTER X

A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON

Gregory was soon off for his ramble. The storm had cleared away, leaving the air so warm and genial as to suggest spring rather thanfall; but he was quite oblivious of the outer world, and familiarscenes had not the power to awaken either pleasant or painfulassociations. He was trying to account for the influence that AnnieWalton had suddenly gained over him, but it was beyond his philosophy. This provoked him. His cool, worldly nature doubted everything andespecially everybody. He believed in the inherent weakness ofhumanity, and that if people were exceptionally good it was becausethey had been exceptionally fortunate in escaping temptation. He alsohad a cynical pleasure in seeing such people tripping and stumbling, so that he might say in self-excusing, "We are all alike. "

And yet he was compelled to admit that if Annie's goodness was seemingit was higher art than he had known before. There was also anunconscious assertion of superiority in her manner that he did notlike. True, things had turned out far better than he had expected. There was no cant about her. She did not lecture him or "talkreligion" in what he regarded as the stereotyped way, and he was sureshe would not, even if they became better acquainted. But there isthat in genuine goodness and nobility of character that alwayshumiliates the bad and makes them feel their degradation. A real pityand sympathy for him tinged her manner, but these qualities are notagreeable to pride. And it must be admitted that she had a littleself-righteous satisfaction that she was so much better than thissadly robbed and wounded man suddenly appearing at the wayside of herlife. In human strength there is generally a trace of arrogance. Onlydivine strength and purity can say with perfect love and fullallowance for all weakness and adverse influences, "Neither do Icondemn thee; go, and sin no more. "

Gregory had now reached a rustic bridge across a little stream that, swollen from the recent rain, came gurgling and clamoring down fromthe hills. Leaning upon the rail he seemed to watch the foaming waterglide under his feet; but the outward vision made no impression on hismind. 

At last in the consciousness of solitude he said: "She told me I mustfind her out. I will. I will know whether she is as free from humanfrailty as she seems. I have little doubt that before many days I cancause her to show all the inherent weaknesses of her sex; and I shouldthink New York and Paris had taught me what they are. She has neverbeen tempted. She has never been subjected to the delicate flattery ofan accomplished man of the world. I am no gross libertine. I could notbe in this place. I could not so wrong hospitality and the householdof my father's friend. But I should like to prove to that girl herdelusion, and show her that she is a weak woman like the rest; thatshe is a pretty painted ship that has never been in a storm, andtherefore need not sail so confidently. We all start on the voyage oflife as little skiffs and pleasure boats might cross the ocean. If anyget safely over, it is because they were lucky enough not to meetdangerous currents or rough weather. I should like her better with herpiquant ways if she were more like myself. Saints and Madonnas arewell enough in pictures, but such as I would find them veryuncomfortable society. "

With sudden power the thought flashed upon him, "Why not let her makeyou as she is?" Where did the thought come from? Tell me not that theDivine Father forgets His children. He is speaking to themcontinually, only they will not hear. There was a brief passionatewish on the part of this bad man that she might be what she seemed andthat he could become like her. As the turbulent, muddy Jordan dividedthat God's people might pass through, so this thought from heavenfound passage through his heart, and then the current of sinfulimpulse and habit flowed on as before. With the stupidity of evil hewas breaking the clew that God had dropped into his hand even whendesperately weary of his lost state. He is wrecked and helpless on thewide ocean; a ship is coming to his rescue; and his first effort isthat this vessel also may be wrecked or greatly injured in theattempt. 

There is no insanity like that of a perverted heart. The adversary ofsouls has so many human victims doing his work that he can fold hishands in idleness. And yet according to the world's practice, and wemight almost say its code, Gregory purposed nothing that would beseverely condemned--nothing more than an ordinary flirtation, ascommon in society as idleness, love of excitement, and that power overothers which ministers to vanity. He had no wish to be able to sayanything worse of her than that under temptation she would be as vainand heartless a coquette as many others that he knew in what isregarded as good society. He would have cut off his right hand, as hethen felt, rather than have sought to lead her into gross sin. 

And yet what did Gregory purpose in regard to Annie but to take theheavenly bloom and beauty from her character? As if they can be lovelyto either God or man of whom it can be said only, They commit no overtcrime. What is the form of a rose without its beauty and fragrance?They who tempt to evil are the real iconoclasts. They destroy God'simage. 

But the supreme question of the selfish heart is, "What do I want_now?_"

Gregory wished to satisfy himself and Miss Walton that she had nogrounds for claiming any special superiority over him, and he turnedon his heel and went back to the house to carry out his purpose. Nature, purified and beautiful by reason of its recent baptism fromheaven, had no attractions for him. Gems of moisture sparkled unseen. He was planning and scheming to turn her head with vanity, make herquiet life of ministry to others odious, and draw her into afashionable flirtation. 

Annie did not appear until the supper-bell summoned her, and thensaid, "Mr. Gregory, I hope you will not think it rude if father and Ileave you to your books and Aunt Eulie's care this evening. It is ourchurch prayer-meeting night, and father never likes to be absent. "

"I shall miss you beyond measure. The evening will seem an age. "

Something in his tone caused her to give him a quick glance, but sheonly said, with a smile, "You are very polite to say so, but I imaginethe last magazine will be a good substitute. "

"I doubt whether there is a substitute for you, Miss Walton. I amcoming to believe that your absence would make that vacuum whichnature so dreads. You shall see how good I will be this evening, andyou shall read me everything you please, even to that 'AncientEcclesiastical History. ' If you will only stay I will be your slave;and you shall rule me with a rod of iron or draw me with the silkencords of kindness, according to your mood. "

"It is not well to have too many moods, Mr. Gregory, " said Annie, quietly. "In reply to all your alluring reasons for staying at home Ihave only to say that I have promised father to go with him; besides, I think it is my duty to go. "

"'Duty' is a harsh, troublesome word to be always quoting. It is akind of strait-jacket which we poor moral lunatics are compelled towear. "

"'Duty' seems to me a good solid road on which one may travel safely. One never knows where the side paths lead: into the brambles or amorass like enough. "

"Indeed, Miss Walton, such austerity is not becoming to your youth andbeauty. "

"What am I to think of your sincerity when you speak of my beauty, Mr. Gregory?"

"Beauty is a question of taste, " answered Gregory, gallantly. "It issettled by no rigid rules or principles, but by the eyes of theobserver. "

"Oh! I understand now. My beauty this evening is the result of yourbad taste. "

"Calling it 'bad' does not make it so. Well, since you will not remainat home with me, will you not let me go with you to the prayer-meeting? If I'm ever to join your church, it is time I entered on theinitiating mysteries. "

"I think a book will do you more good in your present mood. "

"What a low estimate you make of the 'means of grace'! Why, certain ofyour own poets have said, 'And fools who came to scoff remained topray. '"

"The quotation does not apply to you, Mr. Gregory. For, even if youcan doubt the power and truth of Christianity, the memory of yourchildhood will prevent you from scoffing at it. "

A sudden shadow came across his face, but after a moment he said, inhis old tones:

"Will you not let me go to the prayer-meeting?"

"Father will be glad to have you go with us, if you think it prudentto venture out in the night air. "

"Prudence to the dogs! What is the use of living if we cannot do as weplease? But will _you_ be glad to have me go?"

"That depends upon your motives. "

"If I should confess you wouldn't let me go, " he replied with a bow. "But I will try to be as good as possible, just to reward yourkindness. "

The rest of the family now joined them in the supper-room, and duringthe meal Walter exerted himself to show how entertaining he could beif he chose. Anecdotes, incidents of travel, graphic sketches ofsociety, and sallies of wit, made an hour pass before any one wasaware. 

Even the children listened with wondering eyes, and Mr. Walton andMiss Eulie were delighted with the vivacity of their guest. Annieapparently had no reason to complain of him, for his whole mannertoward her during the hour was that of delicately sustainedcompliment. When she spoke he listened with deference, and her wordsusually had point and meaning. He also gave to her remarks the bestinterpretation of which they were capable, and by skilfully drawingher out made her surpass even herself, so that Miss Eulie said, "Why, Annie, there surely is some witchcraft about. You and Mr. Gregory areas brilliant as fireworks. "

"It's all Miss Walton's work, I assure you, " said Gregory. "As Patdeclared, 'I'm not meself any more, ' and shall surprise you, sir, byasking if I may go to the prayer-meeting. Miss Walton says I can if Iwill behave myself. The last time I went to the old place I made facesat the girls. I suppose that would be wrong. "

"That is the sin of our age--making faces, " said Annie. "Many havetwo, and some can make for themselves even more. "

"Now that was a barbed arrow, " said Gregory, looking at her keenly. "Did you let it fly at a venture?"

"Bless me!" said Mr. Walton, rising hastily, "we should have been onthe road a quarter of an hour ago. You mustn't be so entertaininganother prayer-meeting night, Mr. Gregory. Of course we shall be gladto have you accompany us if you feel well enough. I give you both butfive minutes before joining me at the wagon. "

Walter again mounted the stairs with something of his old buoyancy, and Annie followed, looking curiously after him. 

It was not in human nature to be indifferent to that most skilfulflattery which can be addressed to woman--the recognition of hercleverness, and the enhancing of it by adroit and suggestivequestions--and yet all his manner was tinged by a certain insinceregallantry, rather than by a manly, honest respect. She vaguely feltthis, though she could not distinctly point it out. He puzzled her. What did he mean, and at what was he aiming?

CHAPTER XI

A DRINKING-SONG AT A PRAYER-MEETING

Having failed in his attempt to induce Annie to remain at home, Gregory resolved that the prayer-meeting should not be one of quietdevotion. Mr. Walton made him, as an invalid, take the back seat withAnnie, while he sat with the driver, and Gregory, after a faint showof resistance, gladly complied. 

"It's chilly. Won't you give me half of your shawl?" he said to her. 

"You may have it all, " she replied, about to take it off. 

"No, I'll freeze first. Do the brethren and sisters sit together?"

"No, " she answered, laughing, "we have got in the queer way ofdividing the room between us, and the few men who attend sit on oneside and we on the other. "

"Oh, it's almost a female prayer-meeting then. Do the sisters pray?"

"Mr. Gregory, you are not a stranger here that you need pretend tosuch ignorance. I think the meeting is conducted very much as when youwere a boy. "

"With this most interesting difference, that you will be there andwill sing, I hope. Miss Walton, where did you learn to sing?"

"Mainly at home. "

"I should think so. Your voice is as unlike that of a public singer asyou are unlike the singer herself. "

"It must seem very tame to you. "

"It seems very different. We have an artificial-flower department inour store. There is no lack of color and form there, I assure you, butafter all I would prefer your rose garden in June. "

"But you would probably prefer your artificial-flower department therest of the year, " said Annie, laughing. 

"Why so?"

"Our roses are annuals and are only prosaic briers after their bloom. "

"Imagine them hybrid perpetuals and monthlies and you have my meaning. But your resemblance to a rose extends even to its thorns. Your wordsare a little sharp sometimes. "

"In the thorns the resemblance begins and ends, Mr. Gregory. I assureyou I am a veritable Scotch brier. But here we are at our destination. I wonder if you will see many old, remembered faces. "

"I shall be content in seeing yours, " he replied in a low tone, pressing her hand as he assisted her to alight. 

If he could have seen the expression of her face in the darkness itwould have satisfied him that she did not receive that style ofcompliment like many of the belles of his acquaintance, who would takethe small change of flattery with the smiling complacency of a publicdoor-keeper. 

They were late. The good old pastor was absent, and one of thebrethren was reading a chapter in the Bible. Gregory took a seat wherehe could see Annie plainly, and she sat with her side face toward him. 

He watched her keenly, in order to see if she showed any consciousnessof his presence. The only evidence in his favor was a slight flush anda firmness about the lips, as if her will was asserting itself. Butsoon her face had the peaceful and serious expression becoming theplace and hour, and he saw that she had no thoughts for him whatever. He was determined to distract her attention, and by restlessness, bylooking fixedly at her, sought her eye, but only secured the notice ofsome young girls who thought him "badly smitten with Miss Walton. "

The long chapter having been read, a hymn was given out. The gentlemanwho usually led the music was also absent, and there was an ominouspause, in which the good brother's eye wandered appealingly around theroom and at last rested hopefully on Annie. She did not fail him, but, with heightened color and voice that trembled slightly at first, "started the tune. " It was a sweet, familiar air, and she soon had thesupport of other voices. One after another they joined her in widelyvarying degrees of melody, even as the example of a noble life willgradually secure a number of more or less successful imitators. 

Gregory had seen the appeal to her with an amused, half-comical look, but her sincere and ready performance of the duty that hadunexpectedly revealed itself rapidly changed the expression of hisface to one of respect and admiration. Distinct, and yet blending withthe others, her voice seemed both to key up and hide the littleroughnesses and discords of some who perhaps had more melody in theirhearts than in their tones. 

Again a divine impulse, like a flower-laden breeze sweeping into adark and grated vault at Greenwood, stirred Gregory's evil nature. 

"Let her teach you the harmony of noble, unselfish living. Follow herin thought, feeling, and action, as those stammering, untuned tonguesdo in melody, and the blight of evil will pass from your life. Seeknot to muddy and poison this clear little rill that is watering a bitof God's world. Grant that her goodness is not real, established, andthoroughly tested--that it is only a pretty surface picture. Seek notto blur that picture. "

But the evil heart is like Sodom. Good angel-thoughts may come to it, but they are treated with violence and driven out. His habit ofcynical doubt soon returned, and his purpose to show Miss Walton thatshe was a weak, vain woman after all became stronger than ever. 

It seemed to have come to this, that his salvation depended on, notwhat Miss Walton could say or do directly in his behalf, but upon hermaintenance of a character that even a sceptical world mustacknowledge as inspired by heaven, and this, too, against a tempter ofunusual skill and tact. She might sing with resistless pathos, andargue and plead with Paul's logic and eloquence. His nature might bestirred for a moment as a stagnant pool is agitated by the winds ofheaven, and, like the pool, he would soon settle back into his oldapathy. But if she could be made to show weakness, to stumble andfall, it would confirm him in his belief that goodness, if it reallyexisted, was accidental; that those whose lives were apparently freefrom stain deserved no credit, because untempted; and that those whofell should be pitied rather than blamed, since they were unfortunaterather than guilty. Anything that would quiet and satisfy hisconscience in its stern arraignment of his evil life would be welcome. The more he saw of Miss Walton the more he felt that she would be afair subject upon whom to test his favorite theory. Therefore, by thetime one of the brethren present had finished his homely exhortationhe was wholly bent upon carrying out his plan. 

But Miss Walton sat near, as innocently oblivious of this plot againsther as Eve of the serpent's guile before the tempter and temptationcame into fatal conjunction. 

What thoughts for and against each other may dwell utterly hidden andunknown in the hearts of those so near that their hands may touch!Conspiracies to compass the death that is remediless may lurk justbehind eyes that smile upon us. Of course Gregory desired no suchfatal result to follow his little experiment. Few who for their ownpleasure, profit, or caprice tempt others wish the evil to work on tothe bitter end. They merely want a sufficient letting down ofprinciple and virtue for the accomplishment of their purpose, and thenwould prefer that the downward tendency should cease or be reversed. The merchant who requires dishonorable practices of his clerk wisheshim to stop at a point which, in the world's estimation, is safe. Andthose who, like Gregory, would take the bloom from woman's purity andholiness in thought and action, that they may enjoy a questionableflirtation, would be horrified to see that woman drop into the foulgulf of vice. With the blind egotism of selfishness, they wish merelyto gratify their present inclinations, ignoring the consequences. Theyare like children who think it would be sport to see a little cataractfalling over a Holland dike. Therefore, when the tide is in they opena small channel, but are soon aghast to find that the deep sea isoverwhelming the land. 

Gregory, as is usual with his kind, thought only of his own desires. When he had accomplished these Miss Walton must take care of herself. When from seeming a sweet, pure woman she had, by a little temptation, proved to be capable of becoming a vain flirt, he would go back tobusiness and dismiss her from his thoughts with the grim chuckle, "Sheis like the rest of us. "

And thus Annie was destined to meet her mother Eve's experience; andwith the energy and promptness of evil Gregory was keenly on the alertfor anything to further his purpose. 

It would seem that the satanic ally in such schemes does not permitopportunity to be wanting long. The leader of the meeting againselected a hymn, but of a peculiar metre. He read only two lines, andthen looked expectantly toward Annie, who could not at the momentthink of a tune that would answer; and while with knit brows she wasbending over her book, to her unbounded surprise she heard the hymnstarted by a clear, mellow tenor voice. Looking up she saw Gregorysinging as gravely as a deacon. She was sufficiently a musician toknow that the air did not belong to sacred music, though she had neverheard it before. 

In his watchfulness he had noted her hesitation, and glancing at themetre saw instantly that the measure of a drinking-song he knew wellwould fit the words. This fell out better than he had hoped, and withthe thought, "I will jostle her out of her dignity now, " he begansinging without any embarrassment, though every eye was upon him. Hehad been out in the world long enough for that. 

As Annie turned with a shocked and half-frightened expression towardhim his eyes met hers with a sudden gleam of drollery which wasirresistible, and he had the satisfaction of seeing her drop her headto conceal a smile. But he noticed, a moment later, that her facebecame grave with disapprobation. 

Having sung a stanza he looked around with an injured air, as ifreproaching the others for not joining in with him. 

"The tune is not exactly familiar to us, " said the good man leadingthe meeting, "but if the brother will continue singing we will sooncatch the air; or perhaps the brother or some one else (with a glanceat Annie) will start one better known. "

Gregory deliberately turned over the leaves, and to the tune of OldHundred started a hymn commencing:

 "Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb, Take this new treasure to thy trust, And give these sacred relics room To slumber in the silent dust. "

Annie had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the transition from whathe had been singing to the funereal and most inappropriate words wasalmost too much for her. To her impotent anger and self-disgust shefelt a hysterical desire to laugh, and only controlled herself bykeeping her head down and her lips firmly pressed together during theremainder of the brief service. 

Even others who did not know Gregory could not prevent a broad smileat the incongruous hymn he had chosen, but they unitedly wailed itthrough, for he persisted in singing it all in the most dirge-likemanner. They gave him credit for doing the best he could, and supposedhis unhappy choice resulted from haste and embarrassment. In thespontaneity of social meetings people become accustomed to much thatis not harmonious. 

Mr. Walton was puzzled. His guest was certainly appearing in anunexpected role, and he feared that all was not right. 

After the meeting the brethren gathered round Gregory and thanked himfor his assistance, and he shook hands with them and the elderlyladies present with the manner of one who might have been a "pillar inthe temple. " Many of them remembered his father and mother andsupposed their mantle had fallen on him. 

An ancient "mother in Israel" thanked him that he had "started a tunethat they all could sing, instead of the new-fangled ones the youngpeople are always getting up nowadays. But, " said she, "I wish youcould learn us that pretty one you first sang, for it took my fancyamazingly. I think I must have heard it before somewhere. "

Gregory gave Annie another of his suggestive glances, that sent herout hastily into the darkness, and a moment later he joined her at thecarriage steps. 

CHAPTER XII

FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION

Gregory lifted Miss Walton very tenderly into the carriage and tookhis place by her side, while her father was detained by some littlematter of business. 

"I am not an invalid, " said Annie, rather curtly. 

"Indeed you are not, Miss Walton; from your super-abundance you areeven giving life to me. "

"I thought from your manner you feared I was about to faint, " sheanswered, dryly. 

Mr. Walton joined them and they started homeward. 

"Come, Miss Annie, " said Gregory (addressing her thus for the firsttime); "why so distant? Was I not called a brother in the meeting? IfI am a brother you are a sister. I told you I would secure thisrelationship. "

She did not answer him. 

"I think it was too bad, " he continued, "that you did not second myefforts better. You would not help me sing either of the tunes Istarted. "

"Mr. Gregory, " said Annie, emphatically, "I will never go to a prayer-meeting with you again. "

"What a rash resolve! But I confess that I preferred to have you stayat home with me. "

"You have spoiled the whole evening for me. "

"And you spoiled mine. So we are quits, " he replied, laughingly. 

"No, we are not. How can you turn sacred things into a jest?"

"I was possessed to see a smile light up the awful gravity of yourface, and I feel amply repaid in that I succeeded. It was a deliciousbit of sunshine on a cloudy day. "

"And I am provoked at myself beyond measure, that I could have laughedlike a silly child. "

"But did you not like the first tune I sang? 'Old Hundred' wasselected in deference to the wishes of the meeting. "

"No, I did not like it. It was not suitable to the place and words. Though I never heard it before, its somewhat slow movement did notprevent it from smacking of something very foreign to a prayer-meeting. "

"A most happy and inspired expression. Many a time I have smacked mylips when it was being sung over the best of wine. "

"Was it a drinking-song, then?" she asked, quickly. 

"What will you do with me if I say it was?"

"Mr. Gregory, I would not have thought this even of you. "

"Even of me! That is complimentary. I now learn what a low estimateyou have of me. But see how unjust you are. The musical commissariesof the church militant are ever saying, 'It's a pity the devil shouldhave all the good music, ' and so half the Sunday-school tunes, andmany sung in churches, have had a lower origin than my drinking-song. I assure you that the words are as fine as the air. Why have I not asgood a right to steal a tune from the devil as the rest of them?"

"It's the motive that makes all the difference, " said Annie. "But Ifear that in this case the devil suffered no loss. "

"I'm sure my motive was not bad. I only wished to see a bonny smilelight up your face. "

Before she could reply the carriage stopped at Mr. Walton's door, andwith Mr. Gregory she passed into the cosey parlor. Her father did notimmediately join them. 

As Gregory looked at her while she took off her wraps, he thought, "ByJove! she's handsome if she is not pretty. "

In fact Annie's face at that time would have attracted attentionanywhere. The crisp air had given her a fine color. Her eyes glowedwith suppressed excitement and anger, while the firm lines about themouth indicated that when she spoke it would be decidedly. In spite ofherself the audacity, cleverness, and wickedness of this stranger hadaffected her greatly. As he threw off his moodiness, as he revealedhimself by word and action, she saw that he was no ordinary character, but a thorough man of the world, and with some strange caprices. Thesuspicion crossed her mind that he might be not only in peril himselfbut also a source of danger. She had determined during the ride homethat even though he meant no slur upon sacred things he should carryhis mocking spirit no more into them. Therefore, after a moment'sthought, she turned toward him with a manner of mingled frankness anddignity, and said, "Mr. Gregory, I regret what has occurred thisevening. I have a painful sense of the ludicrous, and you have takenunfair advantage of it. I am usually better and happier for going toour simple little meeting, but now I can think of the whole hour onlywith pain. I think I am as mirth-loving as the majority of my age, andperhaps more so. I say truly that my heart is very light and happy. But, Mr. Gregory, we look at certain things very differently from you. While I would not for a moment have you think that religion bringsinto my life gloom and restraint--quite the reverse--still it gives megreat pain when anything connected with my faith is made a matter ofjest. These things are sacred to us, and I know my father would feeldeeply grieved if he understood you this evening. Do you not see? Itappears to us differently from what it does to you and perhaps to theworld at large. These things are to us what your mother's memory is toyou. I would sooner cut off my right hand than trifle with that. "

Gregory had been able to maintain his quizzical look of mischief tillshe named his mother; then his face changed instantly. A flush ofshame crossed it, and after a moment, with an expression somethinglike true manhood, he stepped forward and took Annie's hand, saying, "Miss Walton, I sincerely ask your pardon. I did not know--I could notbelieve that you felt as you do. I will give you no further reason tocomplain of me on this ground. I hope you will forgive me. "

She at once relented, and said:

 "'Who by repentance is not satisfied Is not of heaven nor earth. '

There is an apt quotation from your favorite Shakespeare. "

"You seem a delightful mixture of both, Miss Walton. "

"If you were a better judge, sir, you would know that the earthlyingredient is too great. But that is in your favor, for I amsufficiently human to make allowance for human folly. "

"I shall tax your charity to the utmost. "

As Gregory sat in his arm-chair recalling the events of the day beforeretiring, he thought: "Well, my attempt has failed signally. While byher involuntary smile she showed that she was human, she has alsomanaged this evening to prove that she is perfectly sincere in herreligion, and to render it impossible for me to assail her in thatdirection again. As the old hymn goes, I must 'let her religious hoursalone. ' But how far her religion or superstition will control heraction is another question. I have learned both at home and abroadthat people can be very religious and very sincere in matters of faithand ceremony, and jealous of any hand stretched out to touch theirsacred ark, but when through with the holy business they can live thelife of very ordinary mortals. This may be true of Miss Walton. At anyrate I have made a mistake in showing my hand somewhat at a prayer-meeting, for women are so tenacious on religious matters. Deference, personal attention, and compliments--these are the irresistibleweapons. These inflate pride and vanity to such a degree that amiserable collapse is necessary. And yet I must be careful, for she isnot like some belles I know, who have the swallow of a whale forflattery. She is too intelligent, too refined, to take compliments aslarge and glaring as a sunflower. Something in the way of a moss-rosebud will accomplish more. I will appear as if falling under her power;as if bewitched by her charms. Nothing pleases your plain girls morethan to be thought beautiful. I shall have her head turned in a week. I am more bent than ever on teaching this little Puritan that she andI live upon the same level. "

Saturday morning dawned clear and bracing, and the grass was whitewith hoar-frost. The children came in to breakfast with glowing cheeksand hair awry, crying excitedly in the same breath that they "had beento the chestnut trees and that Jack had opened the burrs all night. "

In answer to their clamorous petitions a one-o'clock dinner waspromised, and Aunt Annie was to accompany them on a nutting expeditionwith Jeff as pioneer to thresh and club the trees. 

"Can I go too?" Gregory asked of the children. 

"I suppose so, " said Johnny, rather coldly; "if Aunt Annie iswilling. "

"You can go with me, " said kind-hearted little Susie. 

"Now I can go whether Aunt Annie is willing or not, " said Gregory, with mock defiance at the boy. 

He glanced at his aunt's face to gather how he should take this, butshe settled the matter satisfactorily to him by saying, "You shall bemy beau, and Mr. Gregory will be Susie's. "

"Good, good!" exclaimed Susie. "I've got a beau already;" and shebeamed upon Gregory in a way that made them all laugh. 

"'Coming events cast their shadows before, ' you perceive, MissWalton, " said he, meaningly. 

"Sometimes the events themselves are but shadows, " she replied, dryly. 

"Now that is severe upon the beaux. How about the belles?" he asked, quickly. 

"I have nothing to say against my own sex, sir. "

"That is not fair. Of course I can say nothing adverse. "

"If you should say what you think, I fear we should be little inclinedto cry with Shylock, 'A Daniel come to judgment!'"

"You have a dreadful opinion of me, Miss Walton. I wish you wouldteach me how I can change it. "

"You discovered so much in a chestnut burr the day you came I shouldnot be surprised if you could find anything else there that you wishto know. "

"I shall not look in burrs for chestnuts this afternoon, but forsomething else far more important. "

Gregory spent the forenoon quietly in his own room reading, in orderthat he might have all the vigor possible for the ramble. And toAnnie, as housekeeper, Saturday morning brought many duties. 

By two o'clock the nutting expedition was organized, and with Jeff inadvance, carrying a short ladder and a long limber pole, the partystarted for the hills. At first Johnny, oppressed with his dignity asAunt Annie's "beau, " stalked soberly at her side, and Susie alsoclaimed Gregory according to agreement, and insisted on keeping holdof his hand. 

He submitted with such grace as he could muster, for children weretiresome to him, and he wanted to talk to Miss Walton, without "littlepitchers with large ears" around. 

Annie smiled to herself at his half-concealed annoyance and his woodengallantry to Susie, but she understood child life well enough to knowthat the present arrangement would not last very long. And she wasright. They had hardly entered the shady lane leading to the treesbefore a chipmonk, with its shrill note of exclamation at unexpectedcompany, started out from some leaves near and ran for its hole. 

Away went Aunt Annie's beau after it, and Susie also, quite obliviousof her first possession in that line, joined in the pursuit. There wasan excited consultation above the squirrel's retreat, and then Johnnytook out his knife and cut a flexible rod with which to investigatethe "robber's den. "

Gregory at once joined Annie, saying, "Since the beau of your choicehas deserted you, will you accept of another?"

"Yes, till he proves alike inconstant. "

"I will see to that. A burr shall be my emblem. "

"Or I do, " she added, laughing. 

"Now the future is beyond my power. "

"Perhaps it is anyway. Johnny was bent upon being a true knight. Youmay see something that will be to you what the chipmonk was to him. "

"And such is your opinion of man's constancy? Miss Walton, you aremore of a cynic than I am. "

"Indeed! Do women dwell in your fancy as fixed stars?"

"Fixed stars are all suns, are they not? I know of one with wonderfulpowers of attraction, " said he, with a significant glance. 

"Does she live in New York?" quietly asked Annie. 

"You know well she does not. She is a votaress of nature, and, as Isaid, I shall search in every burr for the hidden clew to her favor. "

"You had better look for chestnuts, sir. "

"Chestnuts! Fit food for children and chipmonks. I am in quest of theonly manna that ever fell from heaven. Have you read Longfellow's'Golden Legend, ' Miss Walton?"

"Yes, " she replied, with a slight contraction of the brow as if thesuggestion were not pleasing. 

The children now came running toward them and wished to resume theirold places. "No, sir, " said Walter, decisively. "You deserted yourlady's side and your place is filled; and Susie--

 "'Thou fair, false one, '

--you renounced me for a chipmonk. My wounded heart has found solacein another. "

Johnny received this charge against his gallantry with a red face andeyes that began to dilate with anger, while Susie looked at Gregorypoutingly and said, "I don't like big beaux. I think chipmonks areever so much nicer. "

The laugh that followed broke the force of the storm that was brewing;and Annie, by saying, "See, children, Jeff is climbing the tree on topof the hill; I wonder who will get the first nuts, " caused the wind toveer round from the threatening quarter, and away they scampered withgrievances all forgotten. 

"If grown-up children could only forget their troubles as easily!"sighed Gregory. "Miss Walton, you are gifted with admirable tact. Yourwitchery has cleared up another storm. "

"They have not forgotten, " said Annie, ignoring the compliment--"theyhave only been diverted from their trouble. Children can do by naturewhat we should from intelligent choice--turn away the mind frompainful subjects to those that are pleasing. You don't catch mebrooding over trouble when there are a thousand pleasant things tothink of. "

"That is easier said than done, Miss Walton. I read on your smoothbrow that you have had few serious troubles, and, as you say, '_you_ have a thousand pleasant things to think of. ' But with othersit may be very different. Some troubles have a terrible magnetism thatdraws the mind back to them as if by a malign spell, and there are no'pleasant things to think of. '"

"No 'pleasant things'? Why, Mr. Gregory! The universe is very wide. "

"Present company excepted, " replied he gallantly. "But what do I carefor the universe? As you say, it is 'very wide'--a big, uncomfortableplace, in which one is afraid of getting lost. "

"I am not, " said Annie, gently. 

"How so?"

"It's all my Father's house. I am never for a moment lost sight of. Wherever I am, I am like a little child playing outside the door whileits mother, unseen, is watching it from the window. "

He looked at her keenly to see if she were perfectly sincere. Her facehad the expression of a child, and the thought flashed across him, "Ifshe is so watched and guarded, how vain are my attempts!"

But he only said with a shrug, "It would be a pity to dissipate yourhappy superstition, Miss Walton, but after what I have seen andexperienced in the world it would seem more generally true that themother forgot her charge, left the window, and the child was run overby the butcher's cart. "

"Do you think it vain confidence, " said Annie, earnestly, "when I saythat you could not dissipate what you term my 'superstition, ' any morethan you could argue me out of my belief in my good old father'slove?"

CHAPTER XIII

INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS

The conversation had taken a turn that Gregory wished to avoid, so hesaid: "Miss Walton, you regard me as wretched authority on theology, and therefore my opinions will go for nothing. Suppose we join thechildren on the hill, for I am most anxious to commence the search forthe clew to your favor. Give me your hand, that as your attendant Imay at least appear to assist you in climbing, though I suppose youjustly think you could help me more than I can you. "

"And if I can, why should I not?" asked Annie, kindly. 

"Indeed, Miss Walton, I would crawl up first. But thanks to yourreviving influences, I am not so far gone as that. "

"Then you would not permit a woman to reach out a helping hand to you?Talk not against Turks and Arabs. How do Christian men regard us?"

"But you look upon me as a 'heathen. '"

"Beg your pardon, I do not. "

"Miss Walton, give your honest opinion of me--just what you think. "

"Will you do the same of me?"

"Oh, certainly!"

"No, do not answer in that tone. On your honor. "

Gregory was now caught. If he agreed he must state his doubts of herreal goodness; his low estimate of women in general which led to hispurpose to tempt her. This would not only arm her against his efforts, but place him in a very unpleasant light. "I beat a retreat, MissWalton. I am satisfied that your opinion would discourage me utterly. "

"You need have no fears of that kind, " she said; "although my opinionwould not be flattering it would be most encouraging. "

"No, Miss Walton, I am not to be caught. My every glance and wordreveal my opinion of you, while yours of me amounts to what I used tohear years ago: 'You are a bad boy now, but may become a good one. 'Come, give me your hand. "

As she complied she gave him a quick, keen look. Her intuition toldher of something hidden, and he puzzled her. 

Her hand was ungloved, and he thought, "When have I clasped such ahand before? It could help a Hercules. At any rate he would like tohold it, for it is alive. "

There is as much diversity of character in hands as in faces. Some arevery white and shapely, and a diamond flashes prettily upon them, buthaving said this you have said all. Others suggest honest work andplenty of it, and for such the sensible will ever have a genuinerespect. There are some hands that make you think of creatures whoseblood is cold. A lady's hand in society often suggests feebleness, lack of vitality. It is a thing to touch decorously, and if feelingbetray you into giving a hearty grasp and pressure, you find that youare only causing pain and reducing the member to a confused jumble ofbones and sinews. There are hands that suggest fancy-work, lightcrochet needles, and neuralgia. 

Annie's hand was not one that a sculptor would care to copy, though hewould find no great fault with it; but a sculptor would certainly takepleasure in shaking hands with her--the pleasure that is the oppositeof our shrinking from taking the hand of the dead. It was soft anddelicate to the pressure, and yet firm. It reminded one of silk drawnover steel, and was all electric and throbbing with life. You feltthat it could give you the true grasp of friendship--that it had powerto do more than barely cling to something--that it could both help andsustain, yet its touch would be gentleness itself beside the couch ofsuffering. 

When they had reached the brow of the hill he was much more exhaustedthan she, and sat down panting. 

"Miss Walton, " he asked, "do you not despise a feeble man?"

"What kind of feebleness do you mean?"

"The weakness that makes me sit pale and panting here, while you standthere glowing with life and vigor, a veritable Hebe. "

"All your compliments cannot balance that imputation against me. Suchweakness awakens my pity, sympathy, and wish to help. "

"Ah! the emotions you would bestow on a beggar--very agreeable to a_man_. Well, what kind of feebleness do you despise?"

"I think I should despise a feeble, vacillating Hercules most of all--a burly, assuming sort of person, who could be made a tool of, and ledto do what he knew to be mean and wrong. "

"You must despise a great many people then. "

"No, I do not. Honestly, Mr. Gregory, I have no right to despise anyone. I was only giving the reverse of my ideal man. But I assure you Ishare too deeply in humanity's faults to be very critical. "

"I am delighted to hear, Miss Walton, that you share in our fallenhumanity, for I was beginning to doubt it, and you can well understandthat I should be dreadfully uncomfortable in the presence ofperfection. "

"If you could escape all other sources of discomfort as surely as thisone, you would be most happy, " replied Annie, with heightened color. "I shall ever think you are satirical when you speak in such style. "

"A truce, Miss Walton; only, in mercy to my poor mortality, be ashuman as you can. Though you seem to suspect me of a low estimate ofyour sex, I much prefer women to saints and Madonnas. I am going tolook for the burr. "

This was adroitness itself on the part of Gregory, for, of all things, sensible Annie, conscious of faults and many struggles, did not wishto give the impression that she thought herself approachingperfection. And yet he had managed to make her sensitive on thatpoint, and given her a strong motive to relax strict rules of duty, and act "like other people, " as he would say. 

Jeff's limber pole was now doing effective service. With many a softthud upon the sward and leaves the burrs rained around, while thedetached chestnuts rattled down like hail. The children were careeringabout this little tempest of Jeff's manufacture in a state of wildglee, dodging the random burrs, and snatching what nuts they could insafety on the outskirts of the prickly shower. At last the tree waswell thrashed, and bad the appearance of a school-boy bully who, afterbristling with threats and boasts for a long time, suddenly meets hismaster and is left in a very meek and plucked condition. 

But the moment Jeff's pole ceased its sturdy strokes there was a rushfor the spoils, the children awakening the echoes with theirexclamations of delight as they found the ground covered with what wasmore precious to them than gold. Even Gregory's sluggish pulsestingled and quickened at the well-remembered scene, and he felt alittle of their excitement. For the moment he determined to be a boyagain, and running into the charmed circle, picked away as fast as anyof them till his physical weakness painfully reminded him that his oldtireless activity had passed away, perhaps forever. 

He leaned against the trunk of the tree and noted with something of anartist's eye the pretty picture. The valley beneath was beginning toglow with the richest October tints, in the midst of which was his oldhome, that to his affection seemed like a gem set in gold, ruby, andemerald. The stream appeared white and silvery as seen throughopenings of the bordering trees, and in the distance the purple hazeand mountains blended together, leaving it uncertain where the granitebegan, as in Gregory's mind fact and fancy were confusedly mingling inregard to Miss Walton. 

And he soon turned from even that loved and beautiful landscape to heras an object of piquant interest, and the pleasure of analyzing andtesting her character, and--well, some hidden fascination of her own, caused a faint stir of excitement at his heart, even as the Octoberair and exercise had just tinged his pale cheeks. 

But Miss Walton reminded him of a young sugar maple that he hadnoticed, all aflame, from his window that morning, so rich and highwas her color, as, still intent upon the thickly scattered nuts, shefollowed the old unspent childish impulse to gather now as she haddone when of Susie's age. With a half-wondering smile Gregory watchedher intent expression, so like that of the other children, andthought, "Well, she is the freshest and most unhackneyed girl I haveever met for one who knows so much. It seems true, as she said, thatshe draws her life from nature and will never grow old. Now she is achild with those children, looking and acting like them. A momentlater she will be a self-possessed young lady, with a quick, trainedintellect that I can scarcely cope with. And yet in each and everycharacter she seems so real and vital that even I, in spite of myself, feel compelled to admit her truth. Her life is like a glad, musicalmountain stream, while I am a stagnant pool that she passes and leavesbehind. I wonder if it is possible for one life to be awakened andquickened by another. I wonder if her vital force would be strongenough to drag another on who had almost lost the power to follow. Itis said that young fresh blood can be infused directly into the veinsof the old and feeble. Can the same be true of moral forces, and aglad zest and interest in life be breathed into the jaded, cloyed, ennui-cursed spirit of one who regards existence with dull eye, sluggish pulse, and heart of lead? It seems to me that if any onecould have such power it would be that girl there with her intensevitality and subtle connection with nature, which, as she says, isever young and vigorous. And yet I propose to reveal her to herself asa weak, vain creature, whose fair seeming like a pasteboard castlefalls before the breath of flattery. By Jove, I half hope I shan'tsucceed, and yet to satisfy myself I shall carry the test to theutmost limit. "

In her absorbed search for nuts, Annie had approached the trunk of thetree, and was stooping almost at Gregory's feet without noticing him. Suddenly she turned up a burr whose appearance so interested her thatshe stood up to examine it, and then became conscious of his intentgaze. 

"There you stand, " she said, "cool and superior, criticising andlaughing at me as a great overgrown child. "

"If you had looked more closely you would have seen anything ratherthan cool criticism in my face. I wish you could tell me your secret, Miss Walton. What is your hidden connection with Nature, that herstrong, beautiful life flows so freely into yours?"

"You would not believe me if I told you. "

"Indeed, Miss Walton, I should be inclined to believe anything youtold me, you seem so real. But, pardon me, you have in your hand thevery burr I have been looking vainly for. Perhaps in it I may find thecoveted clew to your favor. It may winningly suggest to you mymeaning, while plain, bald words would only repel. If I could onlyinterpret Nature as you breathe her spirit I might find that theautumn leaves were like illuminated pages, and every object--even suchan insignificant one as this burr--an inspired illustration. When mencome to read Nature's open book, publishers may despair. _If_ I wishedto tell you how I would dwell in your thoughts, what poet has writtenanything equal to this half-open burr? It portrays our past, it givesour present relations, and suggests the future; only, like allparables, it must not be pressed too far, and too much prominence mustnot be given to some mere detail. These prickly outward pointingspines represent the reserve and formality which keep comparativestrangers apart. But now the burr is half-open, revealing its heart ofsilk and down. So if one could get past the barriers which you, alikewith all, turn toward an indifferent or unfriendly world, a kindlinesswould be found that would surround a cherished friend as these silkensides envelop this sole and favored chestnut. Again, note that theburr is half-open, indicating, I hope, the progress we have madetoward such friendship. I have no true friend in the wide world that Ican trust, and I would like to believe that your regard, like thisburr, is opening toward me. The final suggestion that I should drawmay seem selfish, and yet is it not natural? This chestnut dwellsalone in the very centre of the burr. We do not like to share asupreme friendship. There are some in whose esteem we would be first. "

When Gregory finished he was half-frightened at his words, for indeveloping his fanciful parallel in the bold style of gallantry he hadlearned to employ toward the belles of the ball-room, and from acertain unaccountable fascination that Annie herself had for him, hehad said more than he meant. 

"Good heavens!" he thought, "if she should take this for a declarationand accept me on the spot, I should then be in the worst scrape of mysorry life. "

Miss Walton's manner rather puzzled him. Her heightened color andquickened breathing were alarming, while the contraction of her browand the firmness of her lips, together with an intent look on thechestnut in the centre of the burr, rather than a languishing look athim or at nothing, were more assuring. She perplexed him still morewhen, as her only response to all this sentiment, she asked, "Mr. Gregory, will you lend me your penknife?"

Without a word he handed it to her, and she at the same time took theburr from his hand, and daintily plucking out the chestnut tossed theburr rather contemptuously away. "Mr. Gregory, if I understand yourrather far-fetched and forced interpretation of this little 'parableof nature, ' you chose to represent yourself by this great lonelychestnut occupying the space where three might have grown. Onobserving this emblematic nut closely I detect something that may alsohave a place in your 'parable';" and she pushed aside the little quirlat the small end of the nut, which partially concealed a worm-hole, and cutting through the shell showed the destroyer in the very heartof the kernel. 

There was nothing far-fetched in this suggestion of nature, and hesaw--and he understood that Miss Walton saw--evil enthroned in thevery depths of his soul. The revelation of the hateful truth was sosudden and sharp that his face darkened with involuntary pain andanger. It seemed to him that, by the simple act of showing him theworm-infested chestnut, she had rejected anything approaching evenfriendship, and had also given him a good but humiliating reason why. He lost his self-possession and forgot that he deserved a stingingrebuke for his insincerity. He would have turned away in coldness andresentment. His visit might have come to an abrupt termination, hadnot Annie, with that delicate, womanly tact which was one of her mostmarked characteristics, interrupted him as he was about to saysomething to the effect, "Miss Walton, since you are so much holierthan I, it were better that I should contaminate the air you breatheno longer. "

She looked into his clouded face with an open smile, and said, "Mr. Gregory, you have been unfortunate in the choice of a burr. Now let mechoose for you;" and she began looking around for one suited to hertaste and purpose. 

This gave him time to recover himself and to realize the folly ofquarrelling or showing any special feeling in the matter. After amoment he was only desirous of some pretext for laughing it off, buthow to manage it he did not know, and was inwardly cursing himself asa blundering fool, and no match for this child of nature. 

Annie soon came toward him, saying, "Perhaps this burr will suggestbetter meanings. You see it is wide open. That means perfectfrankness. There are three chestnuts here instead of one. We must bewilling to share the regard of others. One of these nuts has thecentral place. As we come to know people well, we usually find someone occupying the supreme place in their esteem, and though we mayapproach closely we should not wish to usurp what belongs to another. Under Jeff's vigorous blows the burr and its contents have had atremendous downfall, but they have not parted company. True friendsshould stick together in adversity. What do you think of myinterpretation?"

"I think you are a witch, beyond doubt, and if you had lived a fewcenturies ago, you would have been sent to heaven in a chariot offire. "

"Really, Mr. Gregory, you give me a _hot_ answer, but it is with sucha smiling face that I will take no exception. Let us slowly followJeff and the children along the brow of the hill to the next tree. Thefact is I am a little tired. "

What controversy could a man have with a pretty and wearied girl?Gregory felt like a boy who had received a deserved whipping and yetwas compelled and somewhat inclined to act very amiably toward thedonor. But he was fast coming to the conclusion that this unassumingcountry girl was a difficult subject on which to perform hisexperiment. He was learning to have a wholesome respect for her thatwas slightly tinged with fear, and doubts of success in his plotagainst her grew stronger every moment. And yet the element ofpersistence was large in his character, and he could not readily giveover his purpose, though his cynical confidence had vanished. He nowdetermined to observe her closely and discover if possible her weakpoints. He still held to the theory that flattery was the mostavailable weapon, though he saw he could employ it no longer in theform of fulsome and outspoken compliment. The innate refinement andtruthfulness of Annie's nature revolted at broad gallantry andadulation. He believed that he must reverse the tactics he usuallyemployed in society, but not the principles. Therefore he resolvedthat his flattery should be delicate, subtle, manifested in mannerrather than in words. He would seem submissive; he would humbly wearthe air of a conquered one. He would delicately maintain the "I-am-at-your-mercy" attitude. 

These thoughts flashed through his mind as they passed along the browof the hill, which at every turn gave them a new and beautifullandscape. But vales in Eden would not have held his attention then. To his perplexity this new acquaintance had secured his undividedinterest. He felt that he ought to be angry at her and yet was not. Hefelt that a man who had seen as much of the world as he should be ableto play with this little country girl as with a child; but he wasbecoming convinced that, with all his art, he was no match for herartlessness. 

In the interpretation of the burr of her own choice, Annie hadsuggested that the central and supreme place in her heart was alreadyoccupied, and his thoughts recurred frequently to that fact withuneasiness. The slightest trace of jealousy, even as the merest twingeof pain is often precursor of serious disease, indicated the powerMiss Walton might gain over one who thought himself proof against allsuch influence. But he tried to satisfy himself by thinking, "It isher father who occupies the first place in her affections. "

Then a moment later with a mental protest at his folly, "What do Icare who has the first place? It's well I do not, for she would notpermit such a reprobate as I, with evil in my heart like that cursedworm in the chestnut, to have any place worth naming--unless I canintroduce a little canker of evil in her heart also. I wish I could. That would bring us nearer together and upon the same level. " Anniesaw the landscapes. She looked away from the man by her side and for afew moments forgot him. The scenes upon which she was gazing wereassociated with another, and she ardently wished that that other andmore favored one could exchange places with Gregory. Her eyes grewdreamy and tender as she recalled words spoken in days gone by, when, her heart thrilling with a young girl's first dream of love, she hadleaned upon Charles Hunting's arm, and listened to that sweetest musicof earth, all the more enchanting when broken and incoherent; andHunting, with all his coolness and precision in Wall Street, had beenexcessively nervous and unhappy in his phraseology upon one occasion, and tremblingly glad to get any terms from the girl who seemed a childbeside him. Annie would not permit an engagement to take place. Hunting was a distant relative. She had always liked him very much, but was not sure she loved him. She was extremely reluctant to leaveher father, and was not ready for a speedy marriage; so she franklytold him that he had no rival, nor was there a prospect of any, butshe would not bind him, or permit herself to be bound at that time. Ifthey were fated for each other the way would eventually be madeperfectly clear. 

He was quite content, especially as Mr. Walton gave his heartyapproval to the match, and he regarded the understanding as a virtualengagement. He wanted Annie to wear the significant ring, saying thatit should not be regarded as binding, but she declined to do so. 

Nearly two years had passed, and, while she put him off, she satisfiedhim that he was steadily gaining the place that he wished to possessin her affections. He was gifted with much tact and did not press hissuit, but quietly acted as if the matter were really settled, and itwere only a question of time. Annie had also come to feel in the sameway. She did not see a very great deal of him, though he wroteregularly, and his letters were admirable. He became her ideal man anddwelt in her imagination as a demi-god. To the practical mind of thisAmerican girl his successes in the vast and complicated transactionsof business were as grand as the achievements of any hero. Her fatherhad been a merchant, and she inherited a respect for the calling. Herfather also often assured her that her lover bade fair to lead incommercial circles. 

"Hunting has both nerve and prudence, " he was wont to say; and toimpetuous Annie these qualities, combined with Christian principles, formed her very ideal man. 

Her lover took great pains not to undeceive her as to his character, and indeed, with the infatuation of his class, hoped that, when he hadamassed the fortune that glittered ever just before him, he couldassume, in some princely mansion, the princely, knightly soul withwhich she had endowed him. 

So he did not press matters. Indeed in his rapid accumulation of moneyhe scarcely wished any interruption, and Annie thought all the more ofhim that he was not dawdling around making love half the time. Therewas also less danger of disenchanting her by his presence, for woman'sperception is quick. 

But now she inwardly contrasted her strong, masterful knight, "_sanspeur et sans reproche_, " as she believed, with the enfeebled, shrunkenman at her side. Gregory suffered dreadfully by the comparison. Theworm-eaten chestnut seemed truly emblematic, and in spite of herselfher face lighted up with exultation and joy that the man of her choicewas a _man_, and not one upon whom she could not lean for evenphysical support. 

Gregory caught her expression and said, quickly: "Your face is full ofsudden gleams. Tell me what you are thinking about. "

She blushed deeply in the consciousness of her thoughts, but after amoment said, "I do not believe in the confessional. "

He looked at her keenly, saying, "I wish you did and that I were yourfather confessor. "

She replied, laughing, "You are neither old nor good enough. If I wereof that faith I should require one a great deal older and better thanmyself. But here we are at our second tree, which Jeff has justfinished. I am going to be a child again and gather nuts as before. Ihope you will follow suit, and not stand leaning against the treelaughing at me. "

CHAPTER XIV

"A WELL-MEANIN' MAN"

The western horizon vied with the autumn foliage as at last theyturned homeward. Their path led out upon the main road some distanceabove the house, and, laden with the spoils that would greatlydiminish the squirrels' hoard for the coming winter, they saunteredalong slowly, from a sense of both weariness and leisure. 

They soon reached the cottage of the lame old man who had fired such abroadside of lurid words at Gregory, as he stood on the fenceopposite. With a crutch under one arm and leaning on his gate, DaddyTuggar seemed awaiting them, and secured their attention by thelaconic salutation, "Evenin'!"

"Why, Daddy, " exclaimed Annie, coming quickly toward him. "I am realglad to see you so spry and well. It seems to me that you are gettingyoung again;" and she shook the old man's hand heartily. 

"Now don't praise my old graveyard of a body, Miss Annie. My sperit ispert enough, but it's all buried up in this old clumsy, half-deadcarcass. The worms will close their mortgage on it purty soon. "

"But they haven't a mortgage on your soul, " said Annie, in a low tone. "You remember what I said to you a few days ago. "

"Now bless you, Miss Annie, but it takes you to put in a 'word inseason. ' The Lord knows I'm a well-meanin' man, but I can't seem toget much furder. I've had an awful 'fall from grace, ' my wife says. Idid try to stop swearin', but that chap there--"

"Oh, excuse me, " interrupted Annie. "Mr. Gregory, this is our friendand neighbor Mr. Tuggar. I was under the impression that you wereacquainted, " she added, with a mischievous look at her companion. 

"We are. I have met this gentleman before, " he replied, with a wryface. "Pardon the interruption, Mr. Tuggar, and please go on with yourexplanation. "

"Mr. Gregory, I owe you a 'pology. I'm a well-meanin' man, and if I doany one a wrong I'm willin' to own it up and do the square thing. ButI meant right by you and I meant right by John Walton when I thoughtyou was stealin' his apples. I couldn't hit yer with a stun and knockyer off the fence, as I might a dozen years ago, so I took the nexthardest thing I could lay hands on. If I'd known that you was kinderone of the family my words would have been rolls of butter. "

"Well, Mr. Tuggar, it has turned out very well, for _I_ would ratheryou had fired what you did than either stones or butter. "

"Now my wife would say that that speech showed you was 'totallydepraved. ' And this brings me back to my 'fall from grace. ' Now, yersee, to please my wife some and Miss Eulie more, I was tryin' cussedhard to stop swearin'--"

"Didn't you try a little for my sake, too?" interrupted Annie. 

"Lord bless you, child; I don't have to try when you're around, for Idon't think swearin'. Most folks rile me, and I get a-thinkin'swearin', and then 'fore I know it busts right out. _You_ could takethe wickedest cuss livin' to heaven in spite of himself if you wouldstay right by him all the time. "

"I should 'rile' you, too, if I were with you long, for I get 'riled'myself sometimes. "

"Do you, now?" asked Mr. Tuggar, looking at her admiringly. "Well, I'mmighty glad to hear it. "

"O Daddy! glad to hear that I do wrong?"

"Can't help it, Miss Annie. I kinder like to know you're a little bitof a sinner. 'Tain't often I meet with a sinner, and I kind o' like'em. My wife says she's a 'great sinner, ' but she means she's a greatsaint. 'Twouldn't do for me to tell her she's a 'sinner. ' Then MissEulie says she's a 'great sinner, ' and between you and me that's theonly fib I ever caught Miss Eulie in. Good Lord! there's no more sinin Miss Eulie's heart than there is specks of dirt on the little whiteruff she wears about her neck that looks like the snow we had lastApril around the white hyacinths. She's kind of a half-sperit anyhow. Now your goodness, Miss Annie, is another kind. Your cheeks are sored, and eyes so black, and arms so round and fat--I've seen 'em whenyou was over here a-beatin' up good things for the old man--that youmake me think of red and pink posies. I kinder think you might be alittle bit of a sinner--just enough, you know, to make you understandhow I and him there can be mighty big ones, and not be too hard on usfor it. "

"Mr. Tuggar, you are the man of all others to plead my cause. "

"Now look here, young gentleman, you must do yer own pleadin'. Itwould be a 'sinful waste of time' though, as my wife would say--eh, Miss Annie? I never had no luck at pleadin' but once, and that was theworst luck of all. "

Annie's face might well suggest "red posies" during the last remarks, and its expression was divided between a frown and a laugh. 

"But I want you to understand, " continued Daddy Tuggar, straighteninghimself up with dignity, and addressing Gregory, "that I'm not a meancuss. All who know me know I'm a well-meanin' man. I try to do as I'dbe done by. If I'm going through a man's field and find his bars down, so the cattle would get in the corn, I'd put 'em up--"

"Yes, Daddy, that is what you always say, " interrupted Annie; "but youcan't go through the fields any more and put up bars. You should tryto do the duties that belong to your present state. "

"But I've got the sperit to put up a man's bars, and it's all the sameas if I did put 'em up, " answered the old man, with some irritation. "Miss Eulie and the rest of yer is allers sayin' we must have thesperit of willingness to give up the hull world and suffer martyrdomon what looks in the picture like a big gridiron. She says we musthave the sperit of them who was cold and hungry and the lions eat upand was sawn in two pieces and had an awful time generally for thesake of the Lord, and that's the way the Christians manage itnowadays. My wife gets all the money she can and keeps it, but shesays she has the sperit to give up the hull world. I wish she'd giveup enough of it to keep me in good terbacker. Mighty few nice bitswould the old man git wasn't it for you and Miss Eulie. Then I watchthe good people goin' to church. 'Mazin' few out wet Sundays. But nodoubt they've all got the 'sperit' to go. They would jist as lief besawn in two pieces 'in sperit' as not, if they can only sleep late inthe mornin' and have a good dinner and save their Sunday-go-to-meetin'clothes from gettin' wet. It must be so, for the Lord gets mightylittle worship out of the church on rainy Sundays. If it wasn't foryou and Miss Eulie I don't know what would become of the old man andall the rest of the sick and feeble foiks around here. I ask my wifewhy she doesn't go to see 'em sometimes. She says she has the 'speritto go, ' but she hasn't time and strength. So I have the 'sperit' toput up a man's bars while I sit here and smoke, and what's more, MissAnnie, I did it as long as I was able. "

"You did indeed, Daddy, and, though unintentionally, you have given mea good lesson. We little deserve to be mentioned with those Christianswho in olden times suffered the loss of all things, and life itself. "

"Lord bless you, child, I didn't mean you. Whether you've got thesperit to do a thing or not yer allers do it, and in a sweet, natteralway, as if you couldn't help it. When my wife enters on a good work itmakes me think of a funeral. I'm 'mazin' glad you didn't live in oldtimes, 'cause the lions would have got you sure 'nuff. Though, if ithad to be, I would kinder liked to have been the lion:" and the oldman's eyes twinkled humorously, while Gregory laughed heartily. 

"Oh, Daddy Tuggar!" exclaimed Annie, "that is the most awfulcompliment I ever received. If you, with your spirit, were the onlylion I had to deal with, I should never become a martyr. You shallhave some jelly instead, and now I must go home in order to have itmade before Sunday. "

"Wait a moment, " said Gregory. "You were about to tell us how I causedyou to 'fall from grace. '"

"So I was, so I was, and I've been goin' round Robin Hood's barn eversince. Well, I'd been holdin' in on my swearin' a long time, 'cause Ipromised Miss Eulie I'd stop if I could. My wife said I was in quite a'hopeful state, ' while I felt all the time as if I was sort of bottledup and the cork might fly out any minute. Miss Eulie, she came andrejoiced over me that mornin', and my wife she looked so solemn (sheallers does when she says she feels glad) that somehow I got nervous, and then my wife went to the store and didn't get the kind ofterbacker I sent for, and I knew the cork was going to fly out. I wassmokin' and in a sort of a doze, when the first thing I knowed a bigstun rolled into the road, and there I saw a strange chap, as Ithought, a stealin' John Walton's apples and knockin' down the fence. If they'd a been my apples I might have held in a little longer, butJohn Walton's--it was like a dam givin' way. "

"It was, indeed, " said Gregory, significantly. "It was like several. "

"I knowed my wife heard me, and if she'd come right out and said, 'You've made a cussed old fool of yourself, ' I think I would have feltbetter. I knowed she was goin' to speak about it and lament over it, and I wanted her to do it right away; but she put it off, and kept meon pins and needles for ever so long. At last she said with solemnjoy, 'Thomas Tuggar, I told Miss Eulie I feared you was still in astate of natur, and, alas! I am right; but how she'll mourn, how greatwill be her disappointment, when she hears'; and then I fell into a'state of natur' agin. Now, Miss Annie, if the Lord, Miss Eulie, andyou all could only see I'm a well-meanin' man, and that I don't meanno disrespect to anybody; that it's only one of my old, rough waysthat I learned from my father--and mother too, for that matter, I'msorry to say--and have followed so long that it's bred in the bone, itwould save a heap of worry. One must have some way of lettin' offsteam. Now my wife she purses up her mouth so tight you couldn't sticka pin in it when she's riled. I often say to her, 'Do explode. Openyour mouth and let it all out at once. ' But she says it is notbecoming for such as her ter 'explode. ' But it will come out all thesame, only it's like one of yer cold northeast, drizzlin', fizzlin'rain-storms. And now I've made a clean breast of it, I hope you'llkinder smooth matters over with Miss Eulie; and I hope you, sir, willjust think of what I said as spoken to a stranger and not a friend ofthe family. "

"Give me your hand, Mr. Tuggar. I hope we shall be the best offriends. I am coming over to have a smoke with you, and see if I can'tfill your pipe with some tobacco that is like us both, 'in a state ofnatur. '"

A white-faced woman appeared at the door, and courtesying low to MissWalton, called, "Husband, it's too late for you to be out; I fear yourhealth will suffer. "

"She's bound up in me, you see, " said the old man, with a curiousgrimace. "Nothing but the reading of my will will ever comfort herwhen I die. "

"Daddy, Daddy, " said Annie, reproachfully, "have charity. Good-night;I will send you something nice for to-morrow. "

An amused smile lingered on Gregory's face as they pursued their wayhomeward, now in the early twilight; but Annie's aspect was almost oneof sadness. After a little he said, "Well, he is one of the oddestspecimens of humanity I ever met. "

She did not immediately reply, and he, looking at her, caught herexpression. 

"Why is your face so clouded, Miss Annie?" he asked. "You are notgiven to Mrs. Tuggar's style of 'solemn joy'?"

"What a perplexing mystery life is after all!" she replied, absently. "I really think poor old Daddy Tuggar speaks truly. He is a 'well-meaning' man, but he and many others remind me of one not having theslightest ear for music trying to catch a difficult harmony. "

"Why is the harmony so difficult?" asked Gregory, bitterly. 

"Perhaps it were better to ask, Why has humanity so disabled itself?"

"I do not think it matters much how you put the case. It amounts tothe same thing. Something is required of us beyond our strength. Theidea of punishing that old man for being what he is, when in the firstplace he inherited evil from his parents, and then was taught it byprecept and example. I think he deserves more credit than blame. "

"The trouble is, Mr. Gregory, evil carries its own punishment alongwith it every day. But I admit that we are surrounded by mystery onevery side. Humanity, left to itself, is a hopeless problem. But onething is certain: we are not responsible for questions beyond our ken. Moreover, many things that were complete mysteries to me as a childare now plain, and I ever hope to be taught something new every day. You and I at least have much to be grateful for in the fact that weneither inherited evil nor were taught it in any such degree as ourpoor neighbor. "

"And you quietly prove, Miss Walton, by your last remark, that I ammuch more worthy of blame than your poor old neighbor. "

"Then I said more than I meant, " she answered, eagerly. "It is not forme to judge or condemn any one. The thought in my mind was how favoredwe have been in our parentage--our start in existence, as it were. "

"But suppose one loses that vantage-ground?"

"I do not wish to suppose anything of the kind. "

"But one can lose it utterly. "

"I fear some can and do. But why dwell on a subject so unutterably sadand painful? You have not lost it, and, as I said before to-day, Iwill not dwell upon the disagreeable any more than I can help. "

"Your opinion of me is poor enough already, Miss Walton, so I, too, will drop the subject. "

They had now reached the house, and did ample justice to the supperawaiting them. 

Between meals people can be very sentimental, morbid, and tragical. They can stare at life's deep mysteries and shudder or scoff, sigh orrejoice, according to their moral conditions. They can even grow coldwith dread, as did Gregory, realizing that he had "lost his vantage-ground, " his good start in the endless career. "She is steering acrossunknown seas to a peaceful, happy shore. I am drifting on those samemysterious waters I know not whither, " he thought. But a few minutesafter entering the cheerfully lighted dining-room he was giving hiswhole soul to muffins. 

These homely and ever-recurring duties and pleasures of life have nodoubt saved multitudes from madness. It would almost seem that theyhave also been the innocent cause of the destruction of many. Thereare times when the mind is almost evenly balanced between good andevil. Some powerful appeal or startling providence has aroused thesleeping spirit, or some vivifying truth has pierced the armor ofindifference or prejudice, and quivered like an arrow in the soul, andthe man remembers that he is a man, and not a brute that perishes. Butjust then the dinner-bell sounds. After the several courses, anyphysician can predict how the powers of that human organization mustof necessity be employed the next few hours, and the partiallyawakened soul is like one who starts out of a doze and sleeps again. If the spiritual nature had only become sufficiently aroused torealize the situation, _life_ might have been secured. Thought andfeeling in some emergencies will do more than the grandest pulpiteloquence quenched by a Sunday dinner. 

CHAPTER XV

MISS WALTON'S DREAM

The hickory fire burned cheerily in the parlor after tea, and all drewgladly around its welcome blaze. But even the delights of roastingchestnuts from the abundant spoils of the afternoon could not keep theheads of the children from drooping early. 

Gregory was greatly fatigued, and soon went to his room also. 

Sabbath morning dawned dim and uncertain, and by the time they hadgathered at the breakfast-table, a northeast rain-storm had set inwith a driving gale. 

"I suppose you will go to church 'in sperit' this morning, as Mr. Tuggar would say, " said Gregory, addressing Annie. 

"If I were on the sick list I should, but I have no such excuse. "

"You seriously do not mean to ride two miles in such a storm as this?"

"No, not seriously, but very cheerfully and gladly. "

"I do not think it is required of you, Miss Walton. Even your Biblestates, 'I will have mercy and not sacrifice. '"

"The 'sacrifice' in my case would be in staying at home. I like to beout in a storm, and have plenty of warm blood to resist its chillingeffects. But even were it otherwise, what hardship is there in mywrapping myself up in a waterproof and riding a few miles to acomfortable church? I shall come back with a grand appetite and adouble zest for the wood fire. "

"But it is not fair on the poor horses. They have no waterproofs orwood fires. "

"I think I am not indifferent to the comfort of dumb animals, andthough I drive a good deal, father can tell you I am not a 'whip. ' Ofall shams the most transparent is this tenderness for one's self andthe horses on Sunday. I am often out in stormy weather during theweek, and meet plenty of people on the road. The farmers drive to thevillage on rainy days because they can neither plow, sow, nor reap. But on even a cloudy Sabbath, with the faintest prospect of rain, there is but one text in the Bible for them: 'A righteous manregardeth the life of his beast. ' People attend parties, the opera, and places of amusement no matter how bad the night. It is a miserablepretence to say that the weather keeps the majority at home fromchurch. It is only an excuse. I should have a great deal more respectfor them if they would say frankly, 'We would rather sleep, read anovel, dawdle around _en deshabille_, and gossip. ' Half the time whenthey say it's too stormy to venture out (oh, the heroism of ourChristian age!), they should go and thank God for the rain that isproviding food for them and theirs. 

"And granting that our Christian duties do involve some risk andhardship, does not the Bible ever speak of life as a warfare, astruggle, an agonizing for success? Do not armies often fight andmarch in the rain, and dumb beasts share their exposure? There is moreat stake in this battle. In ancient times God commanded the bloodysacrifice of innumerable animals for the sake of moral and religiouseffect. Moral and religious effect is worth just as much now. Nothingcan excuse wanton cruelty; but the soldier who spurs his horse againstthe enemy, and the sentinel who keeps his out in a winter storm, arenot cruel. But many farmers about here will overwork and underfeed allthe week, and on Sunday talk about being 'merciful to their beasts. 'There won't be over twenty-five out to-day, and the Christian heroes, the sturdy yeomanry of the church, will be dozing and grumbling inchimney-corners. The languid half-heartedness of the churchdiscourages me more than all the evil in the world. "

Miss Walton stated her views in a quiet undertone of indignation, andnot so much in answer to Gregory as in protest against a style ofaction utterly repugnant to her earnest, whole-souled nature. As hesaw the young girl's face light up with the will and purpose to beloyal to a noble cause, his own aimless, self-pleasing life seemedpetty and contemptible indeed, and again he had that painful sense ofhumiliation which Miss Walton unwittingly caused him; but, as wasoften his way, he laughed the matter off by saying, "There is no needof my going to-day, for I have had my sermon, and a better one thanyou will hear. Still, such is the effect of your homily that I aminclined to ask you to take me with you. "

Annie's manner changed instantly, and she smilingly answered, "Youwill find an arm-chair before a blazing fire in your room upstairs, and an arm-chair before a blazing fire in the parlor, and you canvacillate between them at your pleasure. "

"As a vacillating man should, perhaps you might add. "

"I add nothing of the kind. "

"Will you never let me go to church with you again?"

"Certainly, after what you said, any pleasant day. "

"Why can't I have the privilege of being a martyr as well asyourself?"

"I am not a martyr. I would far rather go out to-day than stay athome. "

"It will be very lonely without you. "

"Oh, you are the martyr then, after all. I hope you will havesufficient fortitude to endure, and doze comfortably during the twohours of my absence. "

"Now you are satirical on Sunday, Miss Walton. Let that burden yourconscience. I'm going to ask your father if I may go. "

"Of course you will act at your pleasure, " said Mr. Walton, "but Ithink, in your present state of health, Annie has suggested the wiserand safer thing to do. "

"I should probably be ill on your hands if I went, so I submit; but Iwish you to take note, Miss Walton, that I have the 'sperit to go. '"

The arm-chairs were cosey and comfortable, and the hickory woodturned, as is its wont, into glowing and fragrant coals, but the housegrew chill and empty the moment that Annie left. Though Mr. Walton andMiss Eulie accompanied her, their absence was rather welcome, but hefelt sure that Annie could have beguiled the heavy-footed hours. 

"She has some unexplained power of making me forget my miserableself, " he muttered. 

And yet, left to himself, he had now nothing to do but think, and afearful time he had of it, lowering at the fire, in the arm-chair, from which he scarcely stirred. 

"I have lost my vantage-ground, " he groaned--"lost it utterly. I amnot even a 'well-meaning man. ' I purpose evil against this freshest, purest spirit I have ever known since in this house I looked into mymother's eyes. I am worse than the wild Arab of the desert. I haveeaten salt with them; I have partaken of their generous hospitality, given so cordially for the sake of one that is dead, and in returnhave wounded their most sacred feelings, and now propose to prove thedaughter a creature that I can go away and despise. Instead of beingglad that there is one in the world noble and good, even though byaccident--instead of noting with pleasure that every sweet flower hasnot become a weed--I wish to drag her down to my own wretched level, or else I would have her exhibit sufficient weakness to show that shewould go as far as she was tempted to go. A decent devil could hardlywish her worse. I would like to see her show the same spirit thatanimates Miss Belle St. Glair of New York, or Mrs. Grobb, my formeradored Miss Bently--creatures that I despise as I do myself, and whatmore could I say? If I could only cause her to show some of theircharacteristics the reproach of her life would pass away, and I shouldbe confirmed in my belief that humanity's unutterable degradation isits misfortune, and the blame should rest elsewhere than on us. Howabsurd to blame water for running down hill! Give man or woman half achance, that is, before habits are fixed, and they plunge faster downthe inclined moral plane. And the plague of it is, this seeming axiomdoes not satisfy me. What business has my conscience, with a lash ofscorpion stings, to punish me this and every day that I permit myselfto think? Did I not try for years to be better? Did I not resist theinfernal gravitation? and yet I am falling still. I never did anythingso mean and low before as I am doing now. If it is my nature to doevil, why should I not do it without compunction? And as I lookdownward--there is no looking forward for me--there seems no evilthing that I could not do if so inclined. Here in this home of mychildhood, this sacred atmosphere that my mother breathed, I wouldbesmirch the character of one who as yet is pure and good, with anature like a white hyacinth in spring. I see the vileness of the act, I loathe it, and yet it fascinates me, and I have no power to resist. Why should a stern, condemning voice declare in recesses of my soul, 'You could and should resist'? For years I have been daily yielding totemptation, and conscience as often pronounces sentence against me. When will the hateful farce cease? Multitudes appear to sin withoutthought or remorse. Why cannot I? It's my mother's doings, I suppose. A plague upon the early memories of this place. Will they keep me uponthe rack forever?"

He rose, strode up and down the parlor, and clenched his hands inpassionate protest against himself, his destiny, and the God who madehim. 

A chillness, resulting partly from dread and partly from the wildstorm raging without, caused him to heap up the hearth with wood. Itspeedily leaped into flame, and, covering his face with his hands, hesat cowering before it. A vain but frequent thought recurred to himwith double power. 

"Oh that I could cease to exist, and lose this miserableconsciousness! Oh that, like this wood, I could be aflame withintense, passionate life, and then lose identity, memory, andeverything that makes _me_, and pass into other forms. Nay, more, if Ihad my wish, I would become nothing here and now. "

The crackling of flames and the rush of wind and rain against thewindows had caused the sound of wheels, and a light step in the room, to be unheard. 

He was aroused by Miss Walton, who asked, "Mr. Gregory, are you ill?"

He raised his woe-begone face to hers, and said, almost irritably, "Yes--no--or at least I am as well as I ever expect to be, and perhapsbetter. " Then with a sudden impulse he asked, "Does annihilation seemsuch a dreadful thing to you?"

"What! the losing of an eternity of keen enjoyment? Could anything bemore dreadful! Really, Mr. Gregory, brooding here alone has not beengood for you. Why do you not think of pleasant things?"

"For the same reason that a man with a raging toothache does not havepleasant sensations, " he answered, with a grim smile. 

"I admit the force of your reply, though I do not think the caseexactly parallel. The mind is not as helpless as the body. Still, Ibelieve it is true that when the body is suffering the mind is apt tobecome the prey of all sorts of morbid fancies, and you do look reallyill. I wish I could give you some of my rampant health and spirits to-day. Facing the October storm has done me good every way, and I amravenous for dinner. "

He looked at her enviously as she stood before him, with herwaterproof, still covered with rain-drops, partially thrown back andrevealing the outline of a form which, though not stout, wassuggestive of health and strength. She seemed, with her warm, highcolor, like a hardy flower covered with spray. Instead of shrinkingfeebly and delicately from the harsher moods of nature, and coming inpinched and shivering, she had felt the blood in her veins and all thewheels of life quickened by the gale. 

"Miss Walton, " he said, with a glimmer of a smile, "do you know thatyou are very different from most young ladies? You and natureevidently have some deep secrets between you. I half believe you neverwill grow old, but are one of the perennials. I am glad you have comehome, for you seem to bring a little of yesterday's sunshine into thedreary house. "

As they returned to the parlor after dinner, Gregory remarked, "MissWalton, what can you do to interest me this afternoon, for I amdevoured with ennui?"

She turned upon him rather quickly and said, "A young man like you hasno business to be 'devoured with ennui. ' Why not engage in somepursuit, or take up some subject that will interest you and stir yourpulse?"

With a touch of his old mock gallantry he bowed and said, "In you Isee just the subject, and am delighted to think I'm going to have youall to myself this rainy afternoon. "

With a half-vexed laugh and somewhat heightened color she answered, "Iimagine you won't have me all to yourself long. "

She had hardly spoken the words before the children bounded in, exclaiming, "Now, Aunt Annie, for our stories. "

"You see, Mr. Gregory, here are previous and counter-claims already. "

"I wish I knew of some way of successfully disputing them. "

"It would be difficult to find. Well, come, little people, we will gointo the sitting-room and not disturb Mr. Gregory. "

"Now, I protest against that, " he said. "You might at least let me beone of the children. "

"But the trouble is, you won't be one, but will sit by criticising andlaughing at our infantile talk. "

"Now you do me wrong. I will be as good as I can, and if you knew howlong and dreary the day has been you would not refuse. "

She looked at him keenly for a moment, and then said, a littledoubtfully, "Well, I will try for once. Run and get your favoriteSunday books, children. "

When they were alone he asked, "How can you permit these youngsters tobe such a burden?"

"They are not a burden, " she answered. 

"But a nurse could take care of them and keep them quiet. "

"If their father and mother were living they would not think 'keepingthem quiet' all their duty toward them, nor do I, to whom they wereleft as a sacred trust. "

"That awful word 'duty' rules you, Miss Walton, with a rod of iron. "

"Do I seem like a harshly driven slave?" she asked, smilingly. 

"No, and I cannot understand you. "

"That is because your philosophy of life is wrong. You still belong tothat old school who would have it that sun, moon, and stars revolvearound the earth. But here are the books, and if you are to be one ofthe children you must do as I bid you--be still and listen. "

It was strange to Gregory how content he was to obey. He was surprisedat his interest in the old Bible stories told in childish language, and as Annie stopped to explain a point or answer a question, he foundhimself listening as did the eager little boy sitting on the floor ather feet. The hackneyed man of the world could not understand how thetrue, simple language of nature, like the little brown blossoms oflichens, has a beauty of its own. 

At the same time he had a growing consciousness that perhaps there wassomething in the reader also which mainly held his interest. It waspleasant to listen to the low, musical voice. It was pleasant to seethe red lips drop the words so easily yet so distinctly, and chief ofall was the consciousness of a vitalized presence that made the roomseem full when she was in it, and empty when she was absent, thoughall others remained. 

He truly shared the children's regret when at last she said, "Now I amtired, and must go upstairs and rest awhile before supper, after whichwe will have some music. You can go into the sitting-room and look atthe pictures till the tea-bell rings. Mr. Gregory, will my excuse tothe children answer for you also?"

"I suppose it must, though I have no pictures to look at. "

She suddenly appeared to change her mind, and said, briskly, "Come, sir, what you need is work for others. I have read to you, and youought to be willing to read to me. If you please, I will rest in thearm-chair here instead of in my room. "

"I will take your medicine, " he said, eagerly, "without a wry face, though an indifferent reader, while I think you are a remarkably goodone; and let me tell you it is one of the rarest accomplishments wefind. You shall also choose the book. "

"What unaccountable amiableness!" she replied, laughing. "I fear Ishall reward you by going to sleep. "

"Very well, anything so I am not left alone again. I am wretchedcompany for myself. "

"Oh, it is not for my sake you are so good, after all!"

"You think me a selfish wretch, Miss Walton. "

"I think you are like myself, capable of much improvement. But I wishto rest, and you must not talk, but read. There is the 'Schonberg-Cotta Family. ' I have been over it two or three times, so if I losethe thread of the story it does not matter. "

He wheeled the arm-chair up to the fire for her, and for a while shelistened with interest; but at last her lids drooped and soon closed, and her regular breathing showed that she was sleeping. His voice sankin lower and lower monotone lest his sudden stopping should awakenher, then he laid down his book and read a different story in the pureyoung face turned toward him. 

"It is not beautiful, " he thought, "but it is a real, good face. Ishould not be attracted toward it in a thronged and brilliant drawing-room. I might not notice it on Fifth Avenue, but if I were ill and indeep trouble, it is just such a face as I should like to see bendingover me. Am I not ill and in deep trouble? I have lost my health andlost my manhood. What worse disasters this side death can Iexperience? Be careful, Walter Gregory, you may be breaking the oneclew that can lead you out of the labyrinth. You may be seeking topalsy the one hand that can help you. Mother believed in a specialProvidence. Is it her suggestion that now flashes in my mind that Godin mercy has brought me to this place of sacred memories, and given methe companionship of this good woman, that the bitter waters of mylife may be sweetened? I do not know from whom else it can come. 

"And yet the infernal fascination of evil! I cannot--I will not giveup my purpose toward her. Vain dreams! Miss Walton or an angel oflight could not reclaim me. My impetus downward is too great. 

"Oh, the rest and peace of that face! Physical rest and a quiet, happyspirit dwell in every line. She sleeps there like a child, littledreaming that a demon is watching her. But she says that she isguarded. Perhaps she is. A strong viewless one with a flaming swordmay stand between her and me. 

"Weak fool! Enough of this. I shall carry out my experiment fully, andwhen I have succeeded or failed, I can come to some conclusion onmatters now in doubt. 

"I should like to kiss those red parted lips. I wonder what she woulddo if I did?" Annie's brow darkened into a frown. Suddenly she startedup and looked at him, but seemed satisfied from his distance andmotionless aspect. 

"What is the matter?" he asked. 

"Oh, nothing. I had a dream, " she said, with a slight flush. 

"Please tell it, " he said, though he feared her answer. 

"You will not like it. Besides, it's too absurd. "

"You pique my curiosity. Tell it by all means. "

"Well, then, you mustn't be angry; and remember, I have no faith insleeping vagaries. I dreamed that you were transformed into a largetiger, and came stealthily to bite me. "

He was startled as he recalled his thought at the moment of herawaking, but had the presence of mind to say, "Let me interpret thedream. "

"Well. "

"You know, I suppose, that dreams go by contraries. Suppose a truefriend wished to steal a kiss in your unconsciousness. "

"True friends do not steal from us, " she replied, laughing. "I don'tknow whether it was safe to let you read me to sleep?"

"It's not wrong to be tempted, is it? One can't help that. As Mr. Tuggar says, I might have the 'sperit to do it, ' and yet remainquietly in my chair, as I have. "

"You make an admission in your explanation. Well, it was queer, " sheadded, absently. 

Gregory thought so too, and was annoyed at her unexpected clairvoyantpowers. But he said, as if a little piqued, "If you think me a tigeryou had better not sleep within my reach, or you may find your facesadly mutilated on awaking. "

"Nonsense, " she said. "Mr. Gregory, you are a gentleman. We aretalking like foolish children. "

The tea-bell now rang, and Gregory obeyed its summons in a veryperplexed state. His manner was rather absent during the meal, butAnnie seemed to take pains to be kind and reassuring. The day, so farfrom being a restraint, appeared one of habitual cheerfulness, whicheven the dreary storm without could not dampen. 

"We shall have a grand sing to-night with the assistance of yourvoice, I hope, Mr. Gregory, " said Mr. Walton, as they all adjourned tothe parlor. 

"I do not sing by note, " he replied. "When I can I will join you, though I much prefer listening to Miss Walton. "

"Miss Walton prefers nothing of the kind, and we shall sing only whatyou know, " she said, with a smiling glance at him over her shoulder, as she was making selections from the music-stand. 

Soon they were all standing round the piano, save Mr. Walton, who satnear in his arm-chair, his face the picture of placid enjoyment as helooked on the little group so dear to him. They began with thechildren's favorites from the Sabbath-school books, the little boydutifully finding the place for his grandfather. Many of them were thesame that Gregory had sung long years before, standing in the sameplace, a child like Johnny, and the vivid memories thus recalled madehis voice a little husky occasionally. Annie once gave him a quicklook of sympathy, not curious but appreciative. 

"She seems to know what is passing in my soul, " he thought; "I neverknew a woman with such intuitions. "

The combined result of their voices was true home music, in which wereblended the tones of childhood and age. Annie, with her sweet soprano, led, and gave time and key to them all, very much as by the force andloveliness of her character she influenced the daily harmony of theirlives. The children, with their imitative faculty, seemed to gatherfrom her lips how to follow with fair correctness, and they chirpedthrough the tunes like two intelligent robins. Miss Eulie sang a sweetthough rather faint alto that was like a low minor key in a happylife. Mr. Walton's melody was rather that of the heart, for his voicewas returning to the weakness of childhood, and his ear was scarcelyquick enough for the rapid changes of the air, and yet, unless"grandpa" joined with them, all felt that the circle was incomplete. 

Gregory was a foreign element in the little group, almost a strangerto its personnel, and more estranged from the sacred meanings andfeeling of the hour; yet such was the power of example, so strong werethe sweet home-spells of this Christian family, that to his surprisehe found himself entering with zest into a scene that on the Sabbathbefore he would have regarded as an unmitigated bore. The thoughtflashed across him, "How some of my club acquaintances would laugh tosee me standing between two children singing Sabbath-school hymns!"

It was also a sad truth that he could go away from all presentinfluences to spend the next Sabbath at his club in the ordinarystyle. 

When the children's hour had passed and they had been tucked away topeaceful spring-time dreams, though a storm, the precursor of winter, raged without, Annie returned to the parlor and said, "Now, Mr. Gregory, we can have some singing more to your taste. "

"I have been one of the children to-day, " he replied, "so you must letme off with them from any further singing myself. "

"If you insist on playing the children's role you must go to bed. Ihave some grand old hymns that I've been wishing to try with you. "

"Indeed, Miss Walton, I am but half a man. At the risk of yourcontempt I must say in frankness that my whole physical nature yearnsfor my arm-chair. But please do not call my weakness laziness. If youwill sing to me just what you please, according to your mood, I forone will be grateful. "

"Even a dragon could not resist such an appeal, " said Annie, laughing. She sat down to her piano and soon partially forgot her audience, inan old Sabbath evening habit, well known to natural musicians, ofexpressing her deeper and more sacred feelings in words and notes thatharmonized with them. Gregory sat and listened as the young girlunwittingly revealed a new element in her nature. 

In her every-day life she appeared to him full of force and power, practical and resolute. To one of his sporting tastes she suggested amettled steed whose high spirit was kept in check by thoroughtraining. Her conversation was piquant, at times a little brusque, andutterly devoid of sentimentality. But now her choice of poetic thoughtand her tones revealed a wealth of womanly tenderness, and he wascompelled to feel that her religion was not legal and cold, a systemof duties, beliefs, and restraints, but something that seemed to stirthe depths of her soul with mystic longings, and overflow her heartwith love. She was not adoring the Creator, nor paying homage to aking; but, as the perfume rises from a flower, so her voice and mannerseemed the natural expression of a true, strong affection for GodHimself, not afar off, but known as a near and dear friend. In hersweet tones there was not the faintest suggestion of the effect orstyle that a professional singer would aim at. She thought no more ofthese than would a thrush swaying on its spray in the twilight of aJune evening. As unaffectedly as the bird she sang according to theinward promptings of a nature purified and made lovely by the grace ofGod. 

No one not utterly given over to evil could have listened unmoved, still less Gregory, with his sensitive, beauty-loving, thoughperverted nature. The spirit of David's harp again breathed its divinepeace on his sin-disquieted soul. The words of old Daddy Tuggarflashed across him, and he muttered:

"Yes, she could take even me to heaven, 'if she stayed right by me. '"

When finally, with heartfelt sincerity, she sang the following simplewords to an air that seemed a part of them, he envied her from thedepths of his soul, and felt that he would readily barter away anyearthly possession and life itself for a like faith:

 Nearer, nearer, ever nearer, Come I gladly unto Thee; And the days are growing brighter With Thy presence nearer me. 

 Though a pilgrim, not a stranger; This Thy land, and I Thine own; At Thy side, thus free from danger, Find I paths with flowers strown. 

 Voices varied, nature speaking, Call to me on every side; Friends and kindred give their greeting, In Thy sunshine I abide. 

 Though my way were flinty, thorny, Were I sure it led to Thee, Could I pass one day forlornly, Home and rest so near to me?

Then she brought the old family Bible, indicating that after that hourshe was in no mood for commonplace conversation. In the hush thatfollowed, the good old man reverently read a favorite passage, whichseemed not to consist of cold, printed words, but to be a part of aloving letter sent by the Divine Father to His absent children. 

As such it was received by all save Gregory. He sat among them as astranger and an alien, cut off by his own acts from those ties whichmake one household of earth and heaven. But such was the influence ofthe evening upon him that he realized as never before his loss andloneliness. He longed intensely to share in their feelings, and toappropriate the words of love and promise that Mr. Walton read. 

The prayer that followed was so tender, so full of heart-felt interestin his guest, that Gregory's feelings were deeply touched. He arosefrom his knees, and again shaded his face to hide the traces of hisemotion. 

When at last he looked up, Mr. Walton was quietly reading, and theladies had retired. He rose and bade Mr. Walton good-night with astrong but silent grasp of the hand. 

The thought flashed across him as he went to his room, that after thisevening and the grasp as of friendship he had just given the father, he could not in the faintest degree meditate evil against thedaughter. But so conscious was he of moral weakness, so self-distrustful in view of many broken resolutions, that he dared resolveon nothing. He at last fell into a troubled sleep with the vain, regretful thought, "Oh that I had not lost my vantage-ground! Oh thatI could live my life over again!"

CHAPTER XVI

AN ACCIDENT IN THE MOUNTAINS

In view of her recent stormy mood, Nature seemed full of regretfulrelentings on Monday, and, as if to make amends for her harshness, assumed something of a summer softness. The sun had not the glaringbrightness that dazzles, and the atmosphere, purified by the recentrain, revealed through its crystal depths objects with unusualdistinctness. 

"It is a splendid day for a mountain ramble, " said Annie, withvivacity, at the breakfast-table. 

"Why don't you take old Dolly and the mountain wagon, and show Mr. Gregory some of our fine views this afternoon?" asked Mr. Walton. 

"Nothing would please me more, " said his daughter, cordially; "thatis, if Mr. Gregory feels equal to the fatigue. "

"I'd be at my last gasp if I refused such an offer, " said Gregory, eagerly. "It would do me good, for I feel much stronger than when Ifirst came, and Miss Walton's society is the best tonic I know of. "

"Very well, " said she, laughing. "You shall take me this afternoon asa continuation of the tonic treatment under which you say you areimproving. "

"To carry on the medical figure, " he replied, "I fear that I am to youthe embodiment of the depletive system. "

"From my feelings this bright morning you have very little effect. Iprescribe for you a quiet forenoon, as our mountain roads will giveyou an awful jolting. You, if not your medicine, will be well shakento-day. "

"You are my medicine, as I understand it, so I shall take it accordingto the old orthodox couplet. "

"No, the mountain is your medicine, and I anticipate no earthquakes. "

"It is settled then, " said Mr. Walton, smiling, "that you adoptMahomet's compromise and go to the mountain. I will tell Jeff to fityou out in suitable style. "

Gregory, in excellent spirits, retired to his room for a quietmorning. The prospect for the afternoon pleased him greatly, and along tete-a-tete with Annie among the grand and beautiful solitudes ofnature had for him an attraction that he could scarcely understand. 

"She is just the one for a companion on such an expedition, " he saidto himself. "She seems a part of the scenes we shall look upon. Thefree, strong mountain spirit breathes in her every word and act. OldGreek mythology would certainly make her a nymph of the hills. "

After dinner they started, Gregory's interest centring mainly in hiscompanion, but Annie regarding him as a mere accessory to a sort ofhalf-holiday in her busy life, and expecting more enjoyment from thescenery and the exhilarating air than from his best efforts toentertain her. And yet in this respect she was agreeably disappointed. Gregory was in a mood that he scarcely understood himself. If Anniehad been somewhat vain and shallow, though possessing many other goodtraits, with the practiced skill of a society man he would have madethe most of these weaknesses, amused himself with a piquantflirtation, and soon have been ready for his departure for New Yorkwith a contemptuous French shrug at the whole affair. But herweaknesses did not lie in that direction. Her naturally truthful andearnest nature, deepened and strengthened by Christian principle, fromthe first had foiled his unworthy purposes, and disturbed hiscontemptuous cynicism. Then as he was compelled to believe in herreality, her truth and nobleness, all that was in his own natureresponsive to these traits began to assert itself. Even while he clungto it and felt that he had no power to escape it, the evil of his lifegrew more hateful to him, and he condemned himself with increasingbitterness. When good influences are felt in a man's soul, evil seemsto become specially active. The kingdom of darkness disputes everyinch of its ill-gotten power. Winter passes away in March storms. Itis the still cold of indifference that is nearest akin to death. 

The visit to his old home, and the influence of Annie Walton, werecreating March weather in Walter Gregory's soul. There were a fewgenial moods like gleams of early spring sunshine. There were suddenrelentings and passionate longings for better life, as at timesgentle, frost-relaxing showers soften the flinty ground. There werefierce spiritual conflicts, wild questionings, doubts, fears, andforebodings, and sometimes despair, as in this gusty month natureoften seems resolving itself back to primeval chaos. But too often hismood was that of cold hard scepticism, the frost of midwinter. Theimpetus of his evil life would evidently be long in spending itself. 

And yet the quiet influence of the hallowed Sabbath evening, and AnnieWalton's hymns of faith and love, could not readily be lost. Thefather's prayer still echoed in his soul, and even to him it seemedthat the heavens could not be deaf to such entreaty. These thingsaffected him as no direct appeals possibly could. They were like thegentle but irresistible south wind. 

He was now simply drifting. He had not definitely abandoned hispurpose of tempting Annie, nor did he consciously thrust it from him. Quite convinced that she was what she seemed, and doubting greatlywhether during his brief visit there would be time to affect her mindseriously by any evil influences he could bring to bear, and wonunwittingly by her pure spirit to better things himself, he let thenew and unexpected influence have full play. 

He was like a man who finds himself in the current above Niagara, andgives up in despair, allowing his boat to glide onward to the fatalplunge. A breeze springs up and blows against the current. He spreadsa sail and finds his downward progress checked. If the wind increasesand blows steadily, he may stem the rushing tide and reach smooth, safe waters. 

A faint glimmering of hope began to dawn in his heart. An unexpectedgale from heaven, blowing against the current of evil, made it seempossible that he too might gain the still waters of a peaceful faith. But the hope dwelt in his mind more as a passing thought, apossibility, than an expectation. 

In his wavering state the turn of the scales would depend mainly uponthe mood of his companion. If she had been trifling and inclined toflirt, full of frivolous nonsense, bent upon having a good time in thefrequent acceptation of the phrase, little recking the consequences ofwords or acts, as is often the case with girls in the main good-hearted and well-meaning, Gregory would have fallen in with such amood and pushed it to the extreme. 

But Annie was simply herself, bright and exhilarating as the Octobersunshine, but as pure and strong. She was ready for jest and repartee. She showed almost a childish delight in every odd and pretty thingthat met her eye, but never for a moment permitted her companion tolose respect for her. 

Her cheeks were like the crimson maple-leaves which overhung them. Hereyes were like the dark sparkle of the little brook as it emerged fromthe causeway over which they drove. Her brown hair, tossed by thewind, escaped somewhat from its restraints and enhanced the whitenessof her neck, and the thought occurred to Gregory more than once, "Ifshe is not pretty, I never saw a face more pleasant to look at. "

The wish to gain her esteem and friendship grew stronger every moment, and he exerted himself to the utmost to please her. Abandoning utterlyhis gallantry, his morbid cynicism, he came out into the honestsunlight of truth, where Annie's mind dwelt, and directed theconversation to subjects concerning which, as an educated andtravelled man, he could speak frankly and intelligently. Annie hadstrong social tastes and the fondness for companionship natural to theyoung, and she was surprised to find how he stimulated and interestedher mind, and how much they had in common. He appeared to understandher immediately, and to lead her thoughts to new and exciting flights. 

It was their purpose to cross a spur of the main mountain range. Aftera long and toilsome climb, stopping to give Dolly many a breathingspell, they at last reached the brow of the wooded height, and turnedto look at the autumn landscape glimmering in the bright Octobersunshine. It is impossible by either pen or brush to give a truepicture of wide reaches of broken and beautiful country, as seen fromsome of the more favored points of outlook among the Highlands on theHudson. The loveliness of a pretty bit of scenery or of a landscapemay be enhanced by art, but the impressive grandeur of nature, whenthe feature of vast and varied expanse predominates, cannot beadequately expressed. The mind itself is oppressed by theextensiveness of the scene, and tends to select some definite object, as a village, hamlet, or tree-embowered farmhouse, on which to dwell. These accord more with the finite nature of the beholder. Spires andcurling wreaths of smoke suggested to Annie and Gregory many a simplealtar and quiet hearth, around which gathered the homely, contentedlife, spiritual and domestic, of those who occupied their own littleniche in the great world, and were all unburdened with thought or carefor the indefinite regions that stretched away beyond their narrowcircle of daily acquaintance. Only God can give to the whole of Hiscreation the all-seeing gaze that we bestow upon some familiar scene. His glance around the globe is like that of a mother around hernursery, with her little children grouped at her feet. 

The laden orchards, with men climbing long ladders, and boys in thetopmost branches looking in the distance like huge squirrels, werepleasant objects to the mountain ramblers. Huskers could be discernedin the nearer cornfields, and the great yellow ears glistenedmomentarily in the light, as they were tossed into golden heaps. Therewas no hum of industry as from a manufacturing village, or roar ofturbulent life as from a city, but only the quiet evidence to the eyeof a life kindred to that which nature so silently and beautifullyelaborates. 

"How insignificant we are!" said Gregory, gloomily; "how the greatworld goes right on without us! It is the same when one dies andleaves it, as we left it by climbing this mountain. In the main we areunknown and uncared for, and even to those who know us it is soon thesame as if we had never been. "

"But the world cannot go on without God. Though forgotten, He neverforgets! His friends need never have the sense of being lost orlonely--any more than a child travelling with his father in a foreignland among indifferent strangers. God does not look at us, Hiscreatures, as we do at the foliage of these forests, seeing only thegeneral effect. He sees each one as directly as I now look at you. "

"I wish I could believe He looked as kindly. "

"I wish you could, Mr. Gregory. It is sad to me that people can'tbelieve what is so true. The fondest look your mother ever gave youwas cold compared with the yearning, loving face God turns towardevery one of us, even as we go away from Him. "

He looked at her earnestly for a moment and saw that sincerity waswritten on her face. He shook his head sadly, and then said, ratherabruptly, "Those lengthening shadows remind us that we must be on ourway"; and then their thoughts dwelt on lighter subjects as theyascended another lofty mountain terrace, and paused again to scan thewider prospect that made the sense of daily life in the valleys belowas remote as the world seems to the hermit in his devotionalseclusion. Then they began to descend the sloping plateau whichinclined toward the brow of the hill overlooking the region of theWalton residence. 

After one or two hours of broken but very agreeable conversation Anniesuddenly sighed deeply. 

"Now, Miss Walton, " said Gregory, "that sigh came from the depths. What hidden sorrow could have caused it?"

With a slight flush and laugh, she said, "It was caused by a merepassing thought, like that cloud there sailing over the mountainslope. "

"Your simile is so pretty that I should like to know the thought. "

"I hardly know whether to tell it to you. It might have the sameeffect as if that cloud should expand and cover the sky. "

"Might not the telling also have the same effect as if the cloud weredissipated altogether?"

She looked at him quickly and said, "How apt your answer is! Yes, itmight if you would be sensible. I do not know you so very well yet. Are you not a little ready to take offence?"

"You do not look as if about to say anything I should resent verydeeply. But I promise that the cloud shall vanish. "

"I am not so sure about that. The cloud represents my thought; and yetI hope it may eventually vanish utterly. The thought occurred to meafter the pleasant hours of this afternoon what congenial friends we_might_ be. "

"And that caused you to sigh so deeply?"

"I laid emphasis on the word _might_. "

"And why should you, Miss Annie? Why need you?" he asked, eagerly. 

"You have shown a great deal of tact and consideration this afternoon, Mr. Gregory, in choosing topics on which we could agree, or aboutwhich it is as nice to differ a little. I wish it were the same inregard to those things that make up one's life, as it were;" and shelooked at him closely to see how he would take this. 

After a moment he said, a little bitterly, "In order to be yourfriend, must one look at everything through the same colored glassthat you employ?"

"Oh, no, " she replied, earnestly; "it is not fair to say that. But youseem almost hostile to all that I love best and think most of, and mysigh was rather an earnest and oft-recurring wish that it wereotherwise. "

Again he was silent for a short time, then said, with suddenvehemence, "And I also wish it were otherwise"; adding more quietly, "but it is not, Miss Walton. You know me too well, even if I wished todeceive you. And yet I would give a great deal for such a friendshipas you could bestow. Why can you not give it as it is? The Founder ofyour faith was a friend of publicans and sinners. "

"He was indeed their friend, and has been ever since, " she answered. "But was it not natural that He found more that was attractive andcongenial in that little group of disciples who were learning to knowand believe in Him?"

"I understand you, Miss Walton. I was unfortunate in my illustration, and you have turned it against me. You can be my friend, as themissionary is the friend of the heathen. "

"You go to extremes, Mr. Gregory, and are hardly fair. I am not amissionary, nor are you a heathen. I make my meaning clear when I echoyour thought of a moment ago, and wish that just such a friendshipmight exist between us as that between your father and mine. "

"I am what I am, " he said, with genuine sadness. 

"I wish you had my faith in the possibilities of the future, " shereplied, turning brightly toward him. 

But he shook his head, saying, "I have about lost all faith ineverything as far as I am concerned. Still I feel that if any onecould do me any good, you might, but I fear it is a hopeless task. "Then he changed the subject in such a way as to show that it waspainful, and that he preferred it should be dropped. 

After all, the cloud had overcast the sky. The inevitable separationbetween those guided by divine principles and those controlled byearthly influences began to dawn upon him. He caught a glimpse of the"great gulf, " that is ever "fixed" between the good and evil in theirdeepest consciousness. The "loneliness of guilt" chilled and oppressedhim, even with the cheery, sympathetic companion at his side. But hehid his feelings under a forced gayety, in which Annie joinedsomewhat, though it gave her a vague shiver of pain. She felt they hadbeen _en rapport_ for a little while, but now a change had come, evenas the damp and chill of approaching night were taking the place ofgenial sunshine. 

Suddenly she said, as they were riding along on the comparativelylevel plateau among thick copse-wood and overshadowing trees thatalready created a premature twilight, "It is strange we do not comeout on the brow of the mountain overlooking our home. This road doesnot seem familiar either, though it is two or three years since I havebeen over it, and then Jeff drove. I thought I knew the way well. Canit be possible we have taken the wrong turning?"

"I ought to be familiar with these roads, Miss Walton, but I am sorryto say I too am confused. I hunted over these hills to some extentwhen a boy, but did not pay much heed to the roads, as I took my owncourses through the woods. "

"I think I must be right, " said Annie, after a little time; "the browof the hill must be near;" and they hastened the old horse along asfast as possible under the circumstances. But the road continuallygrew rougher and gave evidence of very little travel, and the eveningdeepened rapidly. At last they resolved to turn round at the firstplace that would permit of it, but this was not readily found, therebeing only a single wheel-track, which now stretched away before themlike a narrow cut between banks of foliage, that looked solid in theincreasing darkness; the road also was full of rocks, loose stones, and deep ruts, over which the wagon jolted painfully. With a lesssure-footed horse than Dolly they would soon have come to grief. Gregory was becoming greatly fatigued, though he strove to hide it, and both were filled with genuine uneasiness at the prospect beforethem. To make matters seemingly desperate, as they were descending alittle hill a fore-wheel caught between two stones and was wrenchedsharply off. Quick, agile Annie sprang as she felt the wagon giving, but Walter was thrown out among the brushwood by the roadside. Thoughscratched and bruised, he was not seriously hurt, and as quickly aspossible came to the assistance of his companion. He found herstanding by Dolly's head, holding and soothing the startled beast. Apparently she was unhurt. They looked searchingly at the duskyforest, their broken vehicle, and then at each other. Words wereunnecessary to explain the awkwardness of their situation. 

CHAPTER XVII

"PROMISE OR DIE"

While they were thus standing irresolute after the accident, suddenlya light glimmered upon them. It appeared to come from a house standinga little off from the road. "Shall I leave you here and go forassistance?" asked Walter. 

"I think I would rather go with you. Dolly will stand, and I do notwish to be left alone. "

They soon found a grassy path leading to a small house, from which thelight shone but faintly through closely curtained windows. They met noone, nor were their footsteps heard till they knocked at the door. Agruff voice said, "Come in, " and a huge bull-dog started up from nearthe fire with a savage growl. 

They entered. A middle-aged man with his coat off sat at work with hisback toward them. He rose hastily and stared at them with a strangelyblended look of consternation and anger. 

"Call off your dog, " said Gregory, sharply. 

"Down, Bull, " said the man, harshly, and the dog slunk growling into acorner, but with a watchful, ugly gleam in his eyes. 

The man's expression was quite as sinister and threatening. 

"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, sternly. 

"We want help, " said Gregory, with a quickened and apprehensive glancearound, which at once revealed to him why their visit was sounwelcome. The man had been counterfeiting money, and the evidences ofhis guilt were only too apparent. "We have lost our way, and our wagonis broken. I hope you have sufficient humanity to act the part of aneighbor. "

"Humanity to the devil!" said the man, brutally, "I am neighbor to noone. You have come here to pry into what is none of your business. "

"We have not, " said Gregory, eagerly. "You will find our broken wagonin the road but a little way from here. "

The man's eye was cold, hard, and now had a snake-like glitter as helooked at them askance with a gloomy scowl. He seemed thinking overthe situation in which he found himself. 

Gregory, in his weak, exhausted state, and shaken somewhat by hisfall, was nervous and apprehensive. Annie, though pale, stood firmlyand quietly by. 

Slowly and hesitatingly, as if deliberating as to the best course, theman reached up to the shelf and took down a revolver, saying, with anevil-boding look at them, "If I thought you had come as detectives, you would have no chance to use your knowledge. You, sir, I do notknow, but I think this lady is Squire Walton's daughter. As it is, youmust both solemnly promise me before God that you will never revealwhat you have seen here. Otherwise I have but one method of self-protection, " and he cocked his pistol. "Let me tell you, " he added, ina blood-curdling tone, "you are not the first ones I have silenced. And mark this--if you go away and break this promise, I haveconfederates who will take vengeance on you and yours. "

"No need of any further threats, " said Gregory, with a shrug. "Ipromise. As you say, it is none of my business how much of the 'queer'you make. "

Though naturally not a coward, Gregory, in his habit of self-pleasingand of shunning all sources of annoyance, would not have gone out ofhis way under any circumstances to bring a criminal to justice, andthe thought of risking anything in this case did not occur to him. Whyshould they peril their lives for the good of the commonwealth? If hehad been alone and escaped without further trouble, he would havethought of the matter afterward as of a crime recorded in the morningpaper, with which he had no concern, except perhaps to scrutinize moresharply the currency he received. 

But with conscientious Annie it was very different. Her father was amagistrate of the right kind, who sincerely sought to do justice andprotect the people in their rights. From almost daily conversation hermind had been impressed with the sacredness of the law. When she wasinclined to induce her father to give a lighter sentence than hebelieved right he had explained how the well-being and indeed the veryexistence of society depended upon the righteous enforcement of thelaw, and how true mercy lay in such enforcement. She had been made tofeel that the responsibility for good order and morals rested on everyone, and that to conceal a known crime was to share deeply in theguilt. She also was not skilled in that casuistry which would enableher to promise anything with mental reservations. The shock of theirsavage and threatening reception had been severe, but she was not atall inclined to be hysterical; and though her heart seemed to standstill with a chill of dread which deepened every moment as sherealized what would be exacted of her, she seemed more self-possessedthan Gregory. Indeed, in the sudden and awful emergencies of life, woman's fortitude is often superior to man's, and Annie's faith was nodecorous and conventional profession for Sabbath uses, but a constantand living reality. She was like the maidens of martyr days, whotremblingly but unhesitatingly died for conscience' sake. While therewas no wavering of purpose, there was an agony of fear and sorrow, as, after the momentary confusion of mind caused by the suddenness of theoccurrence, the terrible nature of the ordeal before her becameevident. 

Through her father she had heard a vague rumor of this man before. Though he lived so secluded and was so reticent, his somewhatmysterious movements had awakened suspicion. But his fierce dog andhis own manner had kept all obtrusive curiosity at a distance. Now shesaw her father's worst fears and surmises realized. 

But the counterfeiter at first gave all his attention to hercompanion, thinking that he would have little trouble with a timidgirl; and after Gregory's ready promise, looked searchingly at him fora moment, and then said, with a coarse, scornful laugh, "No fear ofyou. You will keep your skin whole. You are a city chap, and knowenough of me and my tribe to be sure I can strike you there as well ashere. I can trust to your fears, and don't wish to shed blood when itis unnecessary. And now this girl must make the same promise. Herfather is a magistrate, and I intend to have no posse of men up hereafter me to-morrow. "

"I can make no such promise, " said Annie, in a low tone. 

"What?" exclaimed the man, harshly, and a savage growl from the dogmade a kindred echo to his tone. 

Deathly pale, but with firm bearing, Annie said, "I cannot promise toshield crime by silence. I should be a partaker in your guiltysecrets. "

"Oh, for God's sake, promise!" cried Gregory, in an agony of fear, butin justice it must be said that it was more for her than for himself. 

"For God's sake I cannot promise. "

The man stepped menacingly toward her, and the great dog also advancedunchecked out of his corner. 

"Young woman, " he hissed in her ear, "you must promise or die. I havesworn never to go to prison again if I wade knee-deep in blood. "

There came a rush of tears to Annie's eyes. Her bosom heavedconvulsively a moment, and then she said, in a tone of agony, "It isdreadful to die in such a way, but I cannot make the promise you ask. It would burden my conscience and blight my life. I will trust toGod's mercy and do right. But think twice before you shed my innocentblood. "

Gregory covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud. 

The man hesitated. He had evidently hoped by his threats to frightenher into compliance, and her unexpected refusal, while it halffrenzied him with fear and anger, made his course difficult todetermine upon. He was not quite hardened enough to slay thedefenceless girl as she stood so bravely before him, and the killingof her would also involve the putting of Gregory out of the way, making a double murder that would be hard to conceal. He looked at thedog, and the thought occurred that by turning them out of doors andleaving them to the brute's tender mercies their silence might beeffectually secured. 

It is hard to say what he would have done, left to his own fears andevil passions; but a moment after Annie had spoken, the doors openedand a woman entered with a pail of water, which she had just broughtfrom a spring at some little distance from the house. 

"What does this mean?" she asked, with a quick, startled glancearound. 

"It means mischief to all concerned, " said the man, sullenly. 

"This is Miss Walton, " said the woman, advancing. 

"Yes, " exclaimed Annie, and she rushed forward and sobbed out, "saveme from your husband; he threatened to take my life. "

"'My husband!'" said the woman, with intense bitterness, turningtoward the man. "Do you hear that, Vight? Quiet your fears, younglady. Do you remember the sick, weary woman that you found one hot daylast summer by the roadside? I was faint, and it seemed to me that Iwas dying. I often wish to, but when it comes to the point and I lookover into the black gulf, I'm afraid--"

"But, woman--" interrupted the man, harshly. 

"Be still, " she said, imperiously waving her hand. 

"Don't rouse a devil you can't control. " Then turning to Annie, shecontinued, "I was afraid then; I was in an agony of terror. I was soweak that I could scarcely do more than look appealingly to you andstretch out my hands. Most ladies would have said, 'She's drunk, ' andpassed contemptuously on. But you got out of your wagon and took mycold hand. I whispered, 'I'm sick; for God's sake help me. ' And youbelieved me and said, 'I will help you, for God's sake and your own. 'Then you went to the carriage, and got some cordial which you said wasfor another sick person, and gave me some; and when I revived, youhalf carried me and half lifted me into your nice covered littlewagon, that kept the burning sun off my head, and you took me milesout of your way to a little house which I falsely told you was myhome. I heard that you afterward came to see me. You spoke kindly. When I could speak I said that I was not fit for you to touch, and youanswered that Jesus Christ was glad to help touch any human creature, and that you were not better than He! Then you told me a little aboutHim, but I was too sick to listen much. God knows I've got down aboutas low as any woman can. I dare not pray for myself, but since thatday I've prayed for you. And mark what I say, Vight, " she added, hersad, weird manner changing to sudden fierceness, "not a hair of thislady's head shall be hurt. "

"But these two will go and blab on us, " said the man, angrily. "Atleast the girl will. She won't promise to keep her secret. I have nofears for the man; I can keep him quiet. "

"Why won't you promise?" asked the woman, gently, but with surprise. 

"Because I cannot, " said Annie, earnestly, though her voice was stillbroken by sobs. "When we hide crime, we take part in it. "

"And would you rather die than do what you thought wrong?"

"It were better, " said Annie. 

"Oh that I had had such a spirit in the fatal past!" groaned thewoman. 

"But won't you protect me still?" exclaimed Annie, seizing her hand. "It would kill my poor old father too, if I should die. I cannotburden my soul with your secrets, but save me--oh, save me, from sodreadful a death!"

"I have said it, Miss Walton. Not a hair of your head shall be hurt. "

"What do you advise then, madam?" asked the man, satirically. "Shallwe invite Mr. Walton and the sheriff up to-morrow to take a look atthe room as it now stands?"

"I advise nothing, " said the woman, harshly. "I only say, in a way youunderstand, not a hair of this girl's head shall be hurt. "

"Thank God, oh, thank God, " murmured Annie, with a feeling ofconfidence and inexpressible relief, for there was that in the woman'sbearing and tone which gave evidence of unusual power over herassociate in crime. 

Then Annie added, still clinging to a hand unsanctified by thesignificant plain ring, "I hope you will keep my companion safe fromharm also. "

During the scene between Annie and her strange protector, who wasevidently a sad wreck of a beautiful and gifted woman, Gregory hadsunk into a chair through weakness and shame, and covered his facewith his hands. 

The woman turned toward him with instinctive antipathy, and asked, "How is it, sir, you have left a young girl to meet this dangeralone?"

Gregory's white, drawn face turned scarlet as he answered, "Because Iam like you and this man here, and not like Miss Walton, who is anangel of truth and goodness. "

"'Like _us_, ' indeed!" said she, disdainfully. "I don't know that youhave proved us _cowards_ yet. And could you be bad and mean enough tosee this brave maiden slain before your eyes, and go away in silenceto save your own miserable self?"

"For aught I know I could, " answered he, savagely. "I would like tosee what mean, horrible, loathsome thing, this hateful, hated thing Icall myself could not do. "

Gregory showed, in a way fearful to witness, what intense hostilityand loathing a spirit naturally noble can feel toward itself whenaction and conscience are at war. 

"Ah, " said the woman, bitterly, "now you speak a language I know well. Why should I fear the judgment-day?" she added, with a gloomy light inher eyes, as if communing with herself. "Nothing worse can be said ofme than I will say now. But, " she sneered, turning sharply to Gregory, "I do not think I have fallen so low as you. "

"Probably not, " he replied, with a grim laugh, and a significant shrugwhich he had learned abroad. "I will not dispute my bad pre-eminence. Come, Vight, or whatever your name is, " he continued, rising, "make upyour mind quickly what you are going to do. I am a weak man, morallyand physically. If you intend to shoot me, or let your dog make a mealof me, let us have it over as soon as possible. Since Miss Walton issafe, I am as well prepared now as I ever shall be. "

"I entreat you, " pleaded Annie, still clinging to the woman, "don'tlet any harm come to him. "

"What is the use of touching him?" said the man, gruffly. Then turningto Gregory he asked, "Do you still promise not to use your knowledgeagainst me? You might do me more harm in New York than here. "

"I have promised once, and that is enough, " said Gregory, irritably. "I keep my word for good or evil, though you can't know that, and arefools for trusting me. "

"I'll trust neither of you, " said the man, with an oath. "Here, Dencie, I must talk with you alone. I'm willing to do anything that'sreasonable, but I'm not going to prison again alive, mark" that (witha still more fearful imprecation). "Don't leave this room or I won'tanswer for the consequences, " he said, sternly to Gregory and Annie, at the same time looking significantly at the dog. 

Then he and the woman went into the back room, and there was anearnest and somewhat angry consultation. 

Gregory sat down and leaned his head on the table in a manner thatshowed he had passed beyond despondency and fear into despairingindifference as to what became of him. He felt that henceforth he mustbe simply odious to Miss Walton, that she would only tolerate hispresence as long as it was necessary, veiling her contempt by morepoliteness. In his shame and weakness he would almost rather die thanmeet her true, honest eyes again. 

Annie had the courage of principle and firm resolve, rather than thatwhich is natural and physical. The thought of sudden and violent deathappalled her. If her impulsive nature were excited, like that of asoldier in battle, she could forget danger. If in her bed at home shewere wasting with disease, she would soon submit to the Divine willwith childlike trust. But her whole being shrunk inexpressibly fromviolent and unnatural death. Never before did life seem so sweet. Never before was there so much to live for. She could have been amartyr in any age and in any horrible form for conscience' sake, butshe would have met her fate tremblingly, shrinkingly, and with intenselongings for life. And yet with all this instinctive dread, her trustin God and His promises would not fail. But instead of standing calmlyerect on her faith, and confronting destiny, it was her nature, insuch terrible emergencies, to cling in loving and utter dependence, and obey. 

She therefore in no respect shared Gregory's indifference, but waskeenly alive to the situation. 

At first, with her hand upon her heart to still its wild throbbings, she listened intently, and tried to catch the drift of the fatefulconference within. This being vain, her eyes wandered hurriedly aroundthe room. Standing thus, she unconsciously completed a strange picturein that incongruous place, with her dejected companion on one side, and the great dog, eying her savagely, on the other. Gregory'sdespairing attitude impressed her deeply. In a sudden rash of pity shefelt that he was not as cowardly as he had seemed. A woman withdifficulty forgives this sin. His harsh condemnation and evidentdetestation of himself impelled her generous nature instinctively totake the part of his weak and wronged spirit. She had early beentaught to pity rather than to condemn those whom evil is destroying. In all his depravity he did not repel her, for, though proud, he hadno petty, shallow vanity; and the evident fact that he suffered sodeeply disarmed her. 

Moreover, companionship in trouble which she felt was partly herfault, drew her toward him, and, stepping to his side, she laid herhand on his shoulder and said, gently, "Cheer up, my friend; Iunderstand you better than you do yourself. God will bring us safelythrough. "

He shrunk from her hand, and said, drearily, "With better reason thanyounder woman I can say, 'I am not fit for you to touch. ' As for God, He has nothing to do with me. "

She answered, kindly, "I do not think that either of those things istrue. But, Mr. Gregory, what will they do with us? They will notdare--"

She was interrupted by the entrance of the strangely assorted coupleinto whose crime-stained hands they had so unexpectedly fallen. Bothfelt that but little trust could be placed in such perverted andpassion-swept natures--that they would be guided by their fears, impulses, and interests. Annie's main hope was in the hold she had onthe woman's sympathies; but the latter, as she entered, wore a sullenand disappointed look, as if she had not been given her own way. Annieat once stepped to her side and again took her hand, as if she wereher best hope of safety. It was evident that her confidence andunshrinking touch affected the poor creature deeply, and her handclosed over Annie's in a way that was reassuring. 

"I suppose you would scarcely like to trust yourselves to me or mydog, " said the man, with a grim laugh. "What's more, I've no time tobother with you. Since my companion here feels she owes you something, Miss Walton, she can now repay you a hundred-fold. But follow herdirections closely, as you value your lives;" and he left the housewith the dog. Soon after, they heard in the forest what seemed thenote of the whippoorwill repeated three times, but it was so near andimportunate that Annie was startled, and the woman's manner indicatedthat she was not listening to a bird. After a few moments she said, gloomily: "Miss Walton, I promised you should receive no harm, and Iwill keep my word. I hoped I could send you directly home to-night, but that's impossible. I can do much with Vight, but not everything. He has sworn never to go to prison again alive, and none of our liveswould be worth much if they stood in the way of his escape. We meantto leave this region before many months, for troublesome stories aregetting around, and now we must go at once. I will take you to a placeof safety, from which you can return home to-morrow. Come. "

"But father will be wild with anxiety, " cried Annie, wringing herhands. 

"It is the best I can do, " said the woman, sadly. "Come, we have notime to lose. "

She put on a woollen hood, and taking a long, slender staff, led theway out into the darkness. 

They felt that there was nothing to do but follow, which they did insilence. They did not go back toward their broken wagon, but continueddown the wheel-track whereon their accident had occurred. Suddenly thewoman left this, taking a path through the woods, and after proceedingwith difficulty some distance, stopped, and lighted a small lanternshe had carried under her shawl. Even with the aid of this theirprogress was painful and precarious in the steeply descending rockypath, which had so many intricate windings that both Annie and Gregoryfelt that they were indeed being led into a _terra incognita_. Anniewas consumed with anxiety as to the issue of their strange adventure, but believed confidence in her guide to be the wisest course. Gregorywas too weary and indifferent to care for himself, and stumbled onmechanically. 

At last he said, sullenly, "Madam, I can go no further. I may as welldie here as anywhere. "

"You _must_ go, " she said, sharply; "for my sake and Miss Walton's, ifnot for your own. Besides, it's not much further. What I do to-nightmust be done rightly. "

"Well, then, while there is breath left, Miss Walton shall have thebenefit of it. "

"May we not rest a few minutes?" asked Annie. "I too am very tired. "

"Yes, before long at the place where you must pass the night. "

The path soon came out in another wheel-track, which seemed to leaddown a deep ravine. Descending this a little way, they reached anopening in which was the dusky outline of a small house. 

"Here we part, " said their guide, taking Annie's hand, while Gregorysank exhausted on a rock near. "The old woman and her son who live inthat house will give you shelter, and to-morrow you must find yourbest way home. This seems poor return for your kindness, but it's inkeeping with my miserable life, which is as dark and wild as theunknown flinty path we came. After all, things have turned out farbetter than they might have done. Vight was expecting some one, and sohad the dog within doors. He would have torn you to pieces had he beenwithout as usual. "

"Lead this life no longer. Stay with us, and I will help you to betterthings, " said Annie, earnestly. 

The look of intense longing on the woman's face as the light of theflickering lantern fell on it would haunt Annie to her dying day. 

"Oh that I might!" she groaned. "Oh that I might! A more fearfulbondage never cursed a human soul!"

"And why can you not?" pleaded Annie, putting her hand on thetrembling woman's shoulder. "You have seen better days. You were meantfor a good and noble life. You can't sin unfeelingly. Then why sin atall? Break these chains, and by and by peace in this life and heavenin the life to come will reward you. "

The woman sat down by the roadside, and for a moment her whole frameseemed convulsed with sobs. At last she said, brokenly, "You plead asmy good angel did before it left me--but it's no use--it's too late. Ihave indeed seen better days, pure, happy days; and so has he. We oncestood high in the respect of all. But he fell, and I fell in ways Ican't explain. You cannot understand, that as love binds with silkencords, so crime may bind with iron chains. No more--say no more. Youonly torment me, " she broke in, harshly, as Annie was about to speakagain. "You cannot understand. How could you? We love, hate, and feareach other at the same time, and death only can part us. But that maysoon--that may soon;" and she clenched her hands with a dark look. 

"But enough of this. I have too much to do to tire myself this way. You must go to that house; I cannot. Old Mrs. Tompkins and her sonwill give you shelter. I don't wish them to get into trouble. Therewill be a close investigation into all this. I know what your father'sdisposition is. And now farewell. The only good thing about me is, Ishall still pray for you, the only one who has ever treated me like awoman since--since--since I fell into hell, " she said in a low, hoarsetone, and printing a passionate kiss on Annie's hand, she blew out herlight, and vanished in the darkness. 

It seemed to swallow her up, and become a type of the mystery and fatethat enshrouded the forlorn creature. Beyond the bare fact that shetook the train the following morning with the man she called "Vight, "Annie never heard of her again. Still there was hope for the wretchedwanderer. However dark and hidden her paths, the eyes of a mercifulGod ever followed her, and to that God Annie prayed often in herbehalf. 

NOTE--This chapter has some historic basis. The man called "Vight" isnot altogether an imaginary character, for a desperate and successfulcounterfeiter dwelt for a time among the mountains on the Hudson, plying his nefarious trade. It is said that he took life more thanonce to escape detection. 

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE DEPTHS

After the departure of their strange guide, who had befriended them asbest she could, Gregory at once went to the house and knocked. Therewas a movement within, and a quavering voice asked, "Who's there?"

"Friends who have lost their way, and need shelter. "

"I don't know about lettin' strangers in this time o' night, " answeredthe voice. 

"There are only two of us, " said Annie. "Perhaps you know who MissWalton is. I entreat you to let us in. "

"Miss Walton, Miss Walton, sartin, I know who she is. But I can'tbelieve she's here. "

"Our wagon broke down this afternoon, and we have lost our way, "explained Gregory. 

Again there was a stir inside, and soon a glimmer of light. After afew moments the door was opened slightly, and a woman's voice asked, apprehensively, "Be you sure it's Miss Walton?"

"Yes, " said Annie, "you need have no fears. Hold the light, and seefor yourself. "

This the woman did, and, apparently satisfied, gave them admittance atonce. 

She seemed quite aged, and a few gray locks straggled out from underher dingy cap, which suggested anything but a halo around herwrinkled, withered face. A ragged calico wrapper incased her tall, gaunt form, and altogether she did not make a promising hostess. 

Before she could ask her unexpected guests any further questions, thecry of a whippoorwill was again heard three times. She listened with astartled, frightened manner. The sounds were repeated, and she seemedsatisfied:

"Isn't it rather late in the season for whippoorwills?" asked Annie, uneasily, for this bird's note, now heard again, seemed like a signal. 

"I dunno nothin' about whippoorwills, " said the woman, stolidly. "Thepesky bird kind o' started me at first. Don't like to hear 'em round. They bring bad luck. I can't do much for you, Miss Walton, in thispoor place. But such as 'tis you're welcome to stay. My son has beenoff haulin' wood; guess he won't be back now afore to-morrow. "

"When do you think he will come?" asked Annie, anxiously. 

"Well, not much afore night, I guess. "

"What will my poor father do?" moaned Annie. "He will be out all nightlooking for us. "

"Sure now, will he though?" said the woman, showing some traces ofanxiety herself. "Well, miss, you'll have to stay till my son gitsback, for it's a long way round through the valley to your house. "

There was nothing to do but wait patiently till morning. The womanshowed Gregory up into a loft over the one room of the house, saying, "Here's where my son sleeps. It's the best I can do, though I s'poseyou ain't used to such beds. "

He threw his exhausted form on the wretched couch, and soon foundrespite in troubled sleep. 

Annie dozed away the night in a creaky old rocking-chair, the nearestapproach to a thing of comfort that the hovel contained. The old womanhad evidently been so "started" that she needed the sedative of ashort clay pipe, highly colored indeed, still a connoisseur inmeerschaums would scarcely covet it. This she would remove from hermouth now and then, as she crouched on a low stool in the chimney-corner, to shake her head ominously. Perhaps she knew more aboutwhippoorwills than she admitted. At last it seemed that the fumes, which half strangled Annie, had their wonted effect, and she hobbledto her bed and was soon giving discordant evidence of her peace. Anniethen noiselessly opened a window, that she too might breathe. 

When Gregory waked next morning, it was broad day. He felt so stiffand ill he could scarcely move, and with difficulty made his way tothe room below. The old woman was at the stove, frying some sputteringpork, and its rank odor was most repulsive to the fastidious habitueof metropolitan clubs. 

"Where is Miss Walton?" he asked, in quick alarm. 

"Only gone to the spring after water, " replied the woman, shortly. "Why didn't you git up and git it for her?"

"I would if I had known, " he muttered, and he escaped from theintolerable air of the room to the door, where he met Annie, fresh androsy from her morning walk and her toilet at the brook that brawleddown the ravine. 

"Mr. Gregory, you are certainly ill, " she exclaimed. "I am so sorry ithas all happened!"

He looked at her wonderingly, and then said, "You appear as if nothinghad happened. I am ill, Miss Walton, and I wish I were dead. You cannot feel toward me half the contempt I have for myself. "

"Now, honestly, Mr. Gregory, I have no contempt for you at all. "

He turned away and shook his head dejectedly. 

"But I mean what I say, " she continued, earnestly. 

"Then it is your goodness, and not my desert. "

"As I told you last night, so again I sincerely say, I think Iunderstand you better than you do yourself. "

"You are mistaken, " he answered, with gloomy emphasis. "Yourintuitions are quick, I admit. I have never known your equal in thatrespect. But there are some things I am glad to think you never canunderstand. You can never know what a proud man suffers when he hasutterly lost hope and self-respect. Though I acted so mean a partmyself, I can still appreciate your nobleness, courage, and fidelityto conscience. I thought such heroism belonged only to the past. "

"Mr. Gregory, I wish I could make you understand me, " said Annie, withreal distress in her tone. "I am not brave; I was more afraid thanyou. Indeed, I was in an agony of fear. I refused that man's demandbecause I was compelled to. If you looked at things as I do, you wouldhave done the same. "

"Please say no more, Miss Walton, " said he, his face distorted by anexpression of intense self-loathing. "Do not try to palliate mycourse. I would much rather you would call my cowardly selfishness andlack of principle by their right names. The best thing I can do forthe world is to get out of it, and from present feelings, this 'good-riddance' will soon occur. Will you excuse me if I sit down?" and hesank upon the door-step in utter weakness. 

Annie had placed her pail of water on the door-step and forgotten itin her wish to cheer and help this bitterly wounded spirit. 

"Mr. Gregory, " she said, earnestly, "you are indeed ill in body andmind, and you take a wrong and morbid view of everything. My heartaches to show you how complete and perfect a remedy there is for allthis. It almost seems as if you were dying from thirst with that brookyonder running--"

"There is no remedy for me, " interrupted he, almost harshly. Then headded in a weary tone, pressing his hand on his throbbing brow, "Forgive me, Miss Walton; you see what I am. Please waste no morethought on me. "

"If yer want any breakfast to-day, yer better bring that water, "called the old woman from within. 

Annie gave him a troubled, anxious look, and then silently carried inthe pail. 

"Have you any tea?" she asked, not liking the odor of the coffee. 

"Mighty little, " was the short answer. 

"Please let me have some, and I will send you a pound of our best inits place, " said Annie. 

"I hain't such a fool as to lose that bargain, " and the old womanhobbled with alacrity to a cupboard; but to Annie's dismay the hiddentreasure had been hoarded too near the even more prized tobacco, andseemed redolent of the rank odor of some unsavory preparation of thatremarkable weed which is conjured into so many and such diverse forms. But she brewed a little as best she could before eating any breakfastherself, and brought it to Gregory as he still sat on the step, leaning against the door-post. 

"Please swallow this as medicine, " she said. 

"Indeed, Miss Walton, I cannot, " he replied. 

"Please do, " she urged, "as a favor to me. I made it myself; and Ican't eat any breakfast till I have seen you take this. "

He at once complied, though with a wry face. 

"There, " said she, with a touch of playfulness, "I have seldomreceived a stronger compliment. After this compliance I think I couldventure to ask anything of you. "

"The tea is like myself, " he answered. "You brought to it skilledhands and pure spring water, and yet, from the nature of the thingitself, it was a villanous compound. Please don't ask me to take anymore. Perhaps you have heard an old saying, 'Like dislikes like. '"

She determined that he should not yield to this morbid despondency, but had too much tact to argue with him; therefore she said, kindly, "We never did agree very well, Mr. Gregory, and don't now. But beforemany hours I hope I can give you a cup of tea and something with itmore to your taste. I must admit that I am ready even for thisdreadful breakfast, that threatens to destroy my powers of digestionin one fatal hour. You see what a poor subject I am for romance;" andshe smilingly turned away to a meal that gave her a glimpse of how the"other half of the world lives. "

Before she had finished, the sound of wheels and horses' hoofs comingrapidly up the glen brought her to the door, and with joy sherecognized a near neighbor of her father's, a sturdy, kind-heartedfarmer, who had joined in the search for the missing ones the momenthe learned, in the dawn of that morning, that they had not returned. 

He gave a glad shout as he saw Annie's form in the doorway, and to herhis broad, honest face was like that of an angel. All are beautiful tothose they help. 

"Your father is in a dreadful state, Miss Annie, " said Farmer Jones;"but I told him if he would only stay at home and wait, I, and a fewother neighbors, would soon find you. He was up at the foot of themountain ever since twelve o'clock last night. Then he came home tosee if you hadn't returned some other way. I'm usually out as soon asit's light, so I hailed him as he passed and asked what on earth hewas up for at that time of day. He told me his trouble, so I hitchedup my light wagon and got to your house as soon as he did. When hefound you hadn't come yet, he was for starting right for themountains, but I saw he wasn't fit, so I says, 'Mr. Walton, you'lljust miss 'em. They've taken a wrong road, or the wagon has brokendown, but they'll be home before ten o'clock. Now send Jeff up theroad you expected them on. I'll send Mr. Harris, who lives just beyondme, out on the road they took first. My horse is fast, and I'll goround up this valley, and in this way we'll soon scour every road;'and so with much coaxing I got him to promise to stay till I returned. So jump in quick, and I'll have you home in little over an hour. "

"But we can't leave Mr. Gregory here. Let him go first. He is ill, andneeds attention immediately. "

"Miss Walton, please return at once to your father, " said Gregory, quickly. "It is your duty. I can wait. "

"No, Mr. Gregory, it would not be right to leave you here, feeling asyou do. As soon as father knows I am safe his mind will be at rest. Iam perfectly well, and you have no idea how ill you look. "

"Miss Walton, " said Gregory, in a tone that was almost harsh in itsdecisiveness, "I will not return now. "

"I am real sorry, " said Mr. Jones, "that my wagon is not larger, but Itook the best thing that I had for fast driving over rough roads. Come, Miss Walton, your friend has settled it, and if he is sick hehad better come more slowly in an easier carriage. "

After cordially thanking the old woman for such rude hospitality asshe had bestowed, and renewing her promise to send ample recompense, she turned with gentle courtesy to Gregory and assured him that hewould not have long to wait. 

He gave her a quick, searching look, and said, "Miss Walton, I do notunderstand how you can speak to me in this way. But go at once. Do notkeep your father in suspense any longer. "

"I hope we shall find you better when we come for you, " she said, kindly. 

"It were better if you found me dead, " he said, in sudden harshness, but it was toward himself, not her. 

So she understood it, and waving her hand encouragingly, was rapidlydriven away. 

As they rode along she related to Mr. Jones the events already knownto the reader, but carefully shielded Gregory from blame. She alsosatisfied her companion's evident curiosity about the young man bystating so frankly all it was proper for him to know that he had nosuspicion of anything concealed. She explained his last and unusualexpression by dwelling with truth on the fact that Gregory appearedseriously ill and was deeply depressed in spirits. 

Mr. Walton received his daughter with a joy beyond words. She was theidol of his heart--the one object on earth that almost rivalled his"treasures in heaven. " His mind had dwelt in agonized suspense on athousand possibilities of evil during the prolonged hours of herabsence, and now that he clasped her again, and was assured of hersafety, he lifted his eyes heavenward with overflowing gratitude inhis heart. 

But Annie's success in keeping up before him was brief. The strain hadbeen a little too severe. She soon gave way to nervous prostration andheadache, and was compelled to retire to her room instead of returningfor Gregory as she had intended. But he was promptly sent for, MissEulie going in her place, and taking every appliance possible for hiscomfort. 

She found him in Mrs. Tompkins's hovel, sitting in the creaky arm-chair that Annie had occupied the night before, and enduring with awhite, grim face the increasing suffering of his illness. He seemed tohave reached the depths of despair, and, believing the end near, determined to meet it with more than Indian stoicism. 

Many, in their suicidal blindness and remorse, pass sentence uponthemselves, and weakly deliver their souls into the keeping of thatinexorable jailer, Despair, forgetting the possibilities--nay, certainties--of good that ever dwell in God. If man had no betterfriend than himself, his prospects would be sombre indeed. Many a onehas condemned himself and sunk into the apathy of death, but He whocame to seek and to save the lost has lifted him with the arms offorgiving love, and helped him back to the safety and happiness of thefold. Satan only, _never the Saviour_, bids the sinner despair. Butpoor Gregory was taking advice from his enemy and not from his Friend. During the long hours of pain and almost mortal weakness of thatdreary morning, he acknowledged himself vanquished--utterly defeatedin the battle of life. As old monkish legends teach, the devil mighthave carried him off bodily and he would not have resisted. In hisprostrated nature, but one element of strength was apparent--aperverted pride that rose like a shattered, blackened shaft, the oneprominent relic of seemingly utter ruin. 

At first he coldly declined the cordial and nourishment Miss Euliebrought, and said, with a quietness that did not comport with themeaning of his words, that she had better leave him to himself, for hewould not make trouble for any one much longer. 

Miss Eulie was shocked, finding in these words and in his generalappearance proof that he was more seriously ill than she hadanticipated. 

He was indeed; but his malady was rather that of a morbid minddepressing an enfeebled body than actual disease. But mental distresscould speedily kill a man like Gregory. 

Miss Eulie soon brought him to terms by saying, "Mr. Gregory, you seeI am alone. Mr. Walton was too exhausted to accompany me, and Anniedid not send any of the neighbors, as she thought the presence ofstrangers would be irksome to you. "

"She said she would come herself, but she has had time to think andjudge me rightly, " muttered he, interrupting her. 

"No, Mr. Gregory, " Miss Eulie hastened to say; "you do her wrong. Shewas too ill to come, as she intended and wished to do, and so withmany anxious charges sent me in her place. I am but a woman, anddependent on your courtesy. I cannot compel you to go with me. But Iam sure you will not wrong my brother's hospitality, and make MissWalton's passing indisposition serious, by refusing to come with me. If you did she would rise from her sick bed and come herself. "

Gregory at once rose and said, "I can make no excuse for myself. Iseem fated to do and say the worst things possible under thecircumstances. "

"You are ill, " said Miss Eulie, kindly, as if that explainedeverything. 

Declining aid, he tottered to the carriage, into which Jeff, with somecurious surmises, helped him. 

Miss Eulie made good Annie's promises to Mrs. Tompkins fourfold, andleft the shrivelled dame with a large supply of one of the elements ofher heaven--tea, and with the means of purchasing the other--tobacco, besides more substantial additions to the old woman's meagre larder. 

Gregory was averse to conversation during the long, slow ride. Thejolting, even of the easy cushioned carriage, was exceedingly painful, and by the time they reached home he was quite exhausted. Leaning onMr. Walton's arm he at once went to his room, and at their urgententreaties forced himself to take a little of the dainty supper thatwas forthcoming. But their kindly solicitude was courteously butcoldly repelled. Acting reluctantly upon his plainly manifested wish, they soon left him to himself, as after his first eager inquiryconcerning Miss Walton it seemed a source of pain to him to see orspeak to any one. 

At first his arm-chair and the cheery wood-fire formed a palereflection of something like comfort, but every bone in his body achedfrom the recent cold he had taken. He had just fever enough toincrease the distortion of the images of his morbid and excited mind. Hour after hour he sat with grim white face and fixed stare, scourginghimself with the triple scorpion-whip of remorse, vain regret, andself-disgust. But an old and terrible enemy was stealing on him tochange the nature of his torment--neuralgic headache; and beforemorning he was walking the floor in agony, a sad type, while the worldslept and nature rested, of that large class, all whose relations, physical and moral, are a jangling discord. 

CHAPTER XIX

MISS WALTON MADE OF DIFFERENT CLAY FROM OTHERS

Simple remedies and prolonged rest were sufficient to restore Annieafter the serious shock and strain she had sustained. She rose evenearlier than usual, and hastily dressed that she might resume herwonted place as mistress of her father's household. In view of herrecent peril and the remediless loss he might have suffered, she wasdoubly grateful for the privilege of ministering to his wants andfilling his declining years with cheer and comfort. 

She had not been awake long before Gregory's irregular steps in theadjoining room aroused her attention and caused anxious surmises. Butshe was inclined to think that his restlessness resulted from mentaldistress rather than physical. Still she did not pity him less, butrather more. Though so young, she knew that the "wounded spirit" ofteninflicts the keener agony. Her strong womanly nature was deeply movedin his behalf. As we have seen, it was her disposition to be helpfuland sustaining, rather than clinging and dependent. She had a heart"at leisure from itself, to soothe and sympathize. " From the depths ofher soul she pitied Gregory and wished to help him out of a statewhich the psalmist with quaint force describes as "a horrible pit andthe miry clay. "

She was a very practical reformer, and determined that a daintybreakfast should minister to the outer man before she sought to applya subtler balm to the inner. Trusting not even to Zibbie's establishedskill, she prepared with her own hands some inviting delicacies, andsoon that which might have tempted the most exacting of epicures wasready. 

Mr. Walton shared the delight of the children at seeing Annie bustlinground again as the good genius of their home, and Miss Eulie's littlesighs of content were as frequent as the ripples on the shore. MissEulie could sigh and wipe a tear from the corner of her eye in themost cheerful and hope-inspiring way, for somehow her face shone withan inward radiance, and, even in the midst of sorrow and when wet withtears, reminded one of a lantern on a stormy night, which, coveredwith rain-drops, still gives light and comfort. 

Breakfast was ready, but Gregory did not appear. Hannah, the waitress, was sent to his room, and in response to her quiet knock he said, sharply, "Well?"

"Breakfast is waiting. "

"I do not wish any, " was the answer, in a tone that seemed resentful, but was only an expression of the intolerable pain he was suffering. Hannah came down with a scared look and said she "guessed somethingwas amiss with Mr. Gregory. "

Annie looked significantly at her father, who immediately ascended tohis guest's door. 

"Mr. Gregory, may I come in?" he asked. 

"Do not trouble yourself. I shall be better soon, " was the response. 

The door was unlocked, and Mr. Walton entered, and saw at once that agentle but strong will must control the sufferer for his own good. Mental and nervous excitement had driven him close to the line wherereason and his own will wavered in their decisions, and his irregular, tottering steps became the type of the whole man. His eyes were wildand bloodshot. A ghastly pallor gave his haggard face the look ofdeath. A damp dullness pervaded the heavy air of the room, which inhis unrest he had greatly disordered. The fire had died out, and hehad not even tried to kindle it again. His broodings had been so deepand painful during the earlier part of the night that he had beenoblivious of his surroundings, and then physical anguish became sosharp that all small elements of discomfort were unnoted. 

With fatherly solicitude Mr. Waiton stepped up to his guest, who stoodstaring at him as if he were an intruder, and taking his cold hand, said, "Mr. Gregory, you must come with me. "

"Where?"

"To the sitting-room, where we can take care of you and relieve you. Come, I'm your physician for the time being, and doctors must beobeyed. "

Gregory had not undressed the night before, and, wrapped in his richdressing-gown and with dishevelled hair, he mechanically followed hishost to the room below and was placed on the lounge. 

"Annie has prepared you a nice little breakfast. Won't you let mebring it to you?" said Mr. Waiton, cheerily. 

"No, " said Gregory, abruptly, and pressing his hands upon histhrobbing temples, "the very thought of eating is horrible. Pleaseleave me. Indeed I cannot endure even your kindly presence. "

Mr. Walton looked perplexed and scarcely knew what to do, but after amoment said, "Really, Mr. Gregory, you are very ill. I think I hadbetter send for our physician at once. "

"I insist that you do not, " said his guest, starting up. "What could astupid country doctor do for me, with his owl-like examination of mytongue and clammy fingering of my pulse, but drive me mad? I must bealone. "

"Father, " said Annie, in a firm and quiet voice, "I will be both nurseand physician to Mr. Gregory this morning. If I fail, you may send fora doctor. "

Unperceived she had entered, and from Gregory's manner and wordsunderstood his condition. 

"Miss Waiton, " said Gregory, hastily, "I give you warning. I am noteven the poor weak self you have known before, and I beg you leave metill this nervous headache passes off, if it ever does. I can'tcontrol myself at such times, and this is the worst attack I ever had. I am low enough in your esteem. Do not add to my pain by being presentnow at the time of my greatest weakness. "

"Mr. Gregory, " she replied, "you may speak and act your worst, but youshall not escape me this morning. It's woman's place to remove pain, not fly from it. So you must submit with the best grace you can. Ifafter I have done all in my power you prefer the doctor and anothernurse, I will give way, but now you have no choice. "

Gregory fell back on the sofa with a groan and a muttered oath. At asign from his daughter, Mr. Walton reluctantly and doubtfully passedthrough the open door into the parlor, where he was joined by MissEulie. 

Annie quietly stepped to the hearth and stirred the fire to a cheerfulblaze. She then went to the parlor and brought the afghan, and withoutso much as saying, "by your leave, " spread it over his chilled form. 

Gregory felt himself helpless, but there was something soothing inthis assertion of her strong will, and like a sick child he was betterthe moment he ceased to chafe and struggle. 

She left the room a few moments, and even between the surges of painhe was curious as to what she would do next. He soon learned with athrill of hope that he was to experience the magnetism of her touch, and to know the power of the hand that had seemed alive in his graspon the day of their chestnutting expedition. Annie returned with aquaint little bottle of German cologne, and, taking a seat quietly byhis side, began bathing his aching temples. 

"You treat me like a child, " he said, petulantly. 

"I hope for a while you will be content to act like one, " she replied. 

"I may, like a very bad one. "

"No matter, " she said, with a laugh that was the very antidote ofmorbidness; "I am accustomed to manage children. "

But in a very brief time he had no disposition to shrink from hertouch or presence. Her hand upon his brow seemed to communicate herown strong, restful life; his temples throbbed less and lessviolently. Silent and wondering he lay very still, conscious that bysome subtle power she was exorcising the demons of pain. His hurriedbreathing became regular; his hands unclinched; his form, which hadbeen tense and rigid, relaxed into a position of comfort. He felt thathe was under some beneficent spell, and for an hour scarcely movedlest he should break it and his torment return. Annie was equallysilent, but with a smile saw the effects of her ministry. At last shelooked into his face, and said, with an arch smile, "Shall I send forDoctor Bludgeon and Sairy Gamp to take my place?"

He was very weak and unstrung, and while a tremulous smile hoveredabout his mouth, his eyes so moistened that he turned toward the wall. After a moment he said, "Miss Walton, I am not worthy of yourkindness. "

"Nor are you unworthy. But kindness is not a matter of business--somuch for so much. "

"Why do you waste your time on me?"

"That is a childish question. What a monster I should be if Iheedlessly left you to suffer! The farmers' wives around would mobme. "

"I am very grateful for the relief you are giving me, even though merehumanity is the motive. "

"Mere humanity is not my motive. You are our guest, the son of myfather's dearest friend, and for your own sake I am deeply interestedin you. "

"Miss Walton, I know in the depths of your soul you are disgusted withme. You seek to apply those words to my spirit as you do cologne to myhead. "

"I beg your pardon. It is not the cologne only that relieves yourheadache. "

"I know that well. It is your touch, which seems magical. "

"Well then, you should know from my touch that I am not sitting heretelling fibs. If I should bathe your head with a wooden hand, wouldn'tyou know it?"

"What an odd simile! I cannot understand you. " "It is not necessarythat you should, but do not wrong me by doubting me again. "

"I have done nothing but wrong you, Miss Walton. "

"I'm not conscious of it, so you needn't worry, and I assure you Ifind it a pleasure to do you good. "

"Miss Walton, you are the essence of goodness. "

"Oh, no, no; why say of a creature what is only true of God? Mr. Gregory, you are very extravagant in your language. "

A scowl darkened his face, and he said, moodily, "God seems to me theessence of cruelty. "

"'Seems, seems!' An hour since I seemed a torment, and you weredriving me away. "

"Yes, but you soon proved yourself a kind, helpful, pitiful friend. Ionce thought my cheek would flame with anger even if I were dying, should I be regarded as an object of pity. But you, better than anyone, know that I am one. "

"I, better than any one, know that you are not, in the sense youmean. "

"Come, Miss Walton, you cannot be sincere now. Do you think I can everforget the miserable scene of Monday evening, when you placed yourselfbeside the martyrs and I sank down among the cowards of any age? Ireached the bottom of the only perdition I believe in. I have lost myself-respect. "

"Which I trust God will help you regain by showing you the only sureand safe ground on which self-respect can be maintained. Much that iscalled self-respect is nothing but pride. But, Mr. Gregory, injusticeto one's self is as wrong as injustice to another. Answer me honestlythis question. Did you act that evening only from fear--because youhave it not in you to face danger? or did you promise secrecy becauseyou felt the man's crime was none of your business, and supposed Iwould take the same view?"

Gregory started up and looked at her with a face all aglow withhonest, grateful feeling, and said, "God knows the latter is thetruth. "

"And I know it too. I knew it then. "

"But the world could never be made to see it in that light. "

"Now pride speaks. Self-respect does not depend upon the opinion ofthe world. The world has nothing to do with the matter. You certainlydo not expect I am going to misrepresent you before it. "

He bent a look upon her such as she had never sustained before. It wasthe look of a man who had discovered something divine and preciousbeyond words. It was a feeling such as might thrill one who wasstruggling in darkness, and, as he supposed, sinking in the deep sea, but whose feet touched something which seemed to sustain him. Thethought, "I can trust her--she is true, " came to him at that time withsuch a blessed power to inspire hope and give relief that for a momenthe could not speak. Then he began, "Miss Walton, I cannot findwords--"

"Do not find them, " she interrupted, laughingly. "See, your templesare beginning to throb again, and I am a sorry nurse, a true discipleof Mrs. Gamp, to let you excite yourself. Lie down, sir, at once, andlet your thoughts dwell the next half-hour on your breakfast. You havemuch reason for regret that the dainty little tidbits that I firstprepared are spoiled by this time. I doubt whether I can do so wellagain. "

"I do not wish any breakfast. Please do not leave me yet. "

"It makes no difference what you wish. The idea of an orthodoxphysician consulting the wishes of his patient! My practical skillsees your need of breakfast. "

"Have you had any yourself?" he asked, again starting up, and lookingsearchingly at her. 

"Well, I have had a cup of coffee, " she replied, coloring a little. 

"What a brute I am!" he groaned. 

"In that charge upon yourself you strongly assert the possession of ananimal nature, and therefore of course the need of a breakfast. "

"May I be choked by the first mouthful if I touch anything before Iknow you have had your own. "

"What an awful abjuration! How can you swear so before a lady, Mr. Gregory?"

"No, it is a solemn vow. "

"Then I must take my breakfast with you, for with your disposition todoubt I don't see how you can 'know' anything about it otherwise. "

"That is better than I hoped. I will eat anything you bring on thoseconditions, if it does choke me--and I know it will. "

"A fine compliment to my cooking, " she retorted and laughingly leftthe room. 

Gregory could not believe himself the haggard wretch that Mr. Waltonhad found two hours since. Then he was ready to welcome death as adeliverer. Insane man! As if death ever delivered any from evil butthe good! But so potent had been the sweet wine of Annie's ministrythat his chilled and benumbed heart was beginning to glow with a faintwarmth of hope and comfort. Morbidness could no more exist in herpresence than shadows on the sunny side of trees. With her fullknowledge of the immediate cause of his suffering, and with herunusual tact, she had applied balm to body and spirit at the sametime. The sharp, cutting agony in his head had been charmed away. Theparoxysm had passed, and the dull ache that remained seemed nothing incomparison--merely the heavy swell of the departed storm. 

He forgot himself, the source of all his trouble, in thinking aboutMiss Walton. The plain girl, as he had at first regarded her, with aweak, untried character that he had expected to topple over by thebreath of a little flattery, now seemed divinely beautiful and strong. She reminded him of the graceful, symmetrical elm, which, thoughbending to the tempest, is rarely broken or uprooted. 

He hardly hoped that she would give him credit for the real state ofhis mind which had led to his ready promise of secrecy. To thecounterfeiter's wretched companion he had seemed the weakest andmeanest of cowards, and if the story were generally known he wouldappear in the same light to the world. To his intensely proud naturethis would be intolerable. And why should it not be known? If MissWalton chose to regard his choice as one of cowardice, how could heprove, even to her, that it was not?

Moreover, his low estimate of human nature led him to believe thateven Annie would use him as a dark background for her heroism; and hewell knew that when such a story is once started, society's strongesttendency is to exaggerate man's pusillanimity and woman's courage. Heshuddered as he saw himself growing blacker and meaner in everyfireside and street corner narration of the strange tale, till at lasthis infamy should pass into one of the traditions of the place. A manlike Gregory could not long have endured such a prospect. He wouldhave died, either by every physical power speedily giving way undermental anguish, or by his own hand; or, if he had lived, reason wouldhave dropped its sceptre and become the sport of wild thoughts andfancies. 

Little wonder that Annie appeared an angel of light when she stoodbetween him and such a future. The ugliest hag would have beenglorified and loved in the same position. But when she did this withher own peculiar grace and tact, as a matter of justice, his gratitudeand admiration knew no bounds. He was in a fair way to become anidolater and worship the country girl he had once sneered at, as nopictured Madonna was ever revered even in superstitious Italy. Besidesplacing him under personal obligation, she had, by tests certain andterrible, proved herself true and strong in a world that he believedto be, in the main, utterly false at heart. It is one of our mostnatural instincts to trust and lean upon something, and Annie Waltonseemed one whose friendship he could value above life. 

He did not even then realize, in his glad sense of relief, that inescaping the charge of cowardice he fell upon the other horn of thedilemma, namely, lack of principle--that the best explanation of hisconduct admitted that he was indifferent to right and wrong, and evento the most serious crime against society, so long as he was notpersonally and immediately injured. He had acted on the selfish creedthat a man is a fool who puts himself to serious trouble to serve thepublic. The fact that he did not even dream that Annie would make thenoble stand she did proves how far selfishness can take a man out ofhis true course when he throws overboard compass and chart and letshimself drift. 

But in the world's code (which was his) cowardice is the one deadlysin. His lack of anything like Christian principle was a familiar factto him, and did not hurt him among those with whom he associated. 

Even Annie, woman-like, could more readily forgive all his faults thana display of that weakness which is most despised in a man. But shetoo was sufficiently familiar with the world not to be repelled orshocked by a life which, compared with all true, noble standards, wassadly lacking. And yet she was the very last one to be dazzled by afast, brilliant man of the world. She had been too well educated forthat, and had been early taught to distinguish between solid worth andmere tinsel. Her native powers of observation were strong, and herfather, and mother also before she died, had given her opportunitiesfor exercising them. Instead of mere assertions as to what was rightand wrong and general lecturing on the subject, they had aimed to showher right and wrong embodied in human lives. They made her feel thatGod wanted her to do right for the same reason that they did, becauseHe loved her. First in Bible narrative told in bedtime stories, thenin history and biography, and finally in the experience of thosearound them, she had been shown the happy contrast of good, God-pleasing life with that which is selfish and wicked. So thorough andpractical had been the teaching in this respect, and so impressed wasshe by the lesson, that she would as soon have planted in her flower-bed the seeds of tender annuals on the eve of autumn frosts, andexpected bloom in chill December, as to enter upon a course that Godfrowns upon, and look for happiness. Her father often said, "A humanbeing opposing God's will is like a ship beating against wind and tideto certain wreck. "

An evil life appeared therefore to her a moral madness, under themalign influence of which people were like the mentally deranged whowith strange perversity hate their best friends and cunningly watchfor chances of self-destruction. While on one hand she shrunk fromthem with something of the repulsion which many feel toward theunsound in mind, on the other she cherished the deepest pity for them. Knowing how full a remedy ever exists in Him whose word and touchremoved humanity's most desperate ills, it was her constant wish andeffort to lead as many as possible to this Divine Friend. If she hadbeen like many sincere but selfish religionists, she would have saidof Gregory, "He is not congenial. We have nothing in common, " and, wrapped in her own spiritual pleasures and pursuits, would haveshunned, ignored, and forgotten him. But she chiefly saw his pressingneed of help, and said to herself, "If I would be like my Master, Imust help him. "

Gregory at first had looked upon himself as immeasurably superior tothe plain country girl. He little imagined that she at the same timehad a profound pity for him, and that this fact would become his bestchance for life. She had not forgotten the merciful conspiracy enteredinto the second evening after his arrival, but was earnestly seekingto carry out its purposes. In order to do this, she was anxious togain his good-will and confidence, and now saw with gratitude thattheir adventure on the mountain, that had threatened to end in death, might be the beginning of a new and happy life. She exulted over thehold she had gained upon him, not as the selfish gloat over one withintheir power, whom they can use for personal ends--not as the coquettesmiles when another human victim is laid upon the altar of her vanity, but as the angels of heaven rejoice when there is even a chance of onesinner's repentance. 

And yet Annie had no intention of "talking religion" to him in anyformal way, save as the subject came up naturally; but she hoped tolive it, and suggest it to him in such an attractive form that hewould desire it for his own sake. 

But her chief hope was in the fact that she prayed for him; and she nomore expected to be unheard and unanswered than that her kind fatherwould listen with a stony face to some earnest request of hers. 

But Annie was not one to go solemnly to work to compass an event thatwould cause joy in heaven. She would ask one to be a Christian as shewould invite a captive to leave his dungeon, or tell the sick how tobe well. She saw that morbid gloom had become almost a disease withGregory, and she proposed to cure him with sunshine. 

And sunshine embodied she seemed to him as she returned, her faceglowing with exercise and close acquaintance with the kitchen-range. In each hand she carried a dish, while Hannah followed with a tray onwhich smoked the most appetizing of breakfasts. 

"Your rash vow, " she said, "has caused you long waiting. I'm none ofyour ethereal heroines, but have a craving for solids served inquantity and variety. And while I could have soon got your breakfastit was no bagatelle to get mine. "

How fresh and bright she looked saying all this! and he ejaculated, "Deliver me from the ghastly creatures you call 'ethereal heroines. '"

"Indeed, sir, " she retorted, "if you can't deliver yourself from themyou shall have no help from me. But let us at once enter upon thesolemnities, and as you have a spark of gallantry, see to it that youpay my cookery proper compliment. "

"Your 'cookery, ' forsooth!" said he, with something of her own lighttone. "That I should find Miss Walton stealing Zibbie's laurels!"

"Chuckle when you find her doing it. Hannah, who prepared thisbreakfast?"

"Yourself, miss, " answered the woman, with an admiring grin. 

"That will do, Hannah; we will wait upon ourselves. Shame on you, sir!You are no connoisseur, since you cannot tell a lady's work from akitchen-maid's. Moreover, you have shown that wretched doubtingdisposition again. "

Now that they were alone, Gregory said, earnestly, "I shall neverdoubt you again. "

"I hope you never will doubt that I wish to do you good, Mr. Gregory, "she replied, passing him a cup of tea. 

"You have done me more good in a few brief hours than I ever hoped toreceive. Miss Walton, how can I repay you?"

"By being a better friend to yourself. Commence by eating this. "

He did not find it very difficult to comply. After a little time hesaid, "But my conscience condemns me for caring too much for myself. ""And no doubt your conscience is right. The idea of being a friend toyourself and going against your conscience!"

"Then I have ever been my own worst enemy. "

"I can believe that, and so you'll continue to be if you don't takeanother piece of toast. "

"And yet there has always seemed a fatal necessity for me to do wrongand go wrong. Miss Walton, you are made of different clay from me andmost people that I know. It is your nature to be good and noble. "

"Nonsense!" said Annie, with a positive frown. "Different clay indeed!I imagine you do wrong for the same reason that I do, because you wishto; and you fail in doing right because you have nothing but your weakhuman will to keep you up. "

"And what keeps you up, pray?"

"Can you even suppose that I or any one can be a Christian withoutChrist?"

He gave one of his incredulous shrugs. 

"Now what may that mean?" she asked. 

"Pardon me if I say that I think yours is a pretty and harmlesssuperstition. This world is one of inexorable law and necessity downto the minutest thing. A weed is always a weed. A rose is always arose. It's my misfortune to be a weed. It's your good fortune to be arose. "

Annie looked as if she might become a briery one at that moment, forthis direct style of compliment, though honest, was not agreeable. Conscious of many struggles with evil, it was even painful, for it didher injustice in two aspects of the case. So she said, dryly, "What anautomaton you make me out to be!"

"How so?" "If I merely do right as the rose grows, I deserve nocredit. I'm but little better than a machine. "

"Not at all. I compared you to something that has a beautiful life ofits own. But I would willingly be a machine, and a very angular, uncouth one too, if some outside power would only work me right and tosome purpose. "

"Such talk seems to me idle, Mr. Gregory. I know that I have to tryvery hard to do right, and I often fail. I do not believe that ourvery existence begins in a lie, as it were, for from earliest yearsconscience tells us that we needn't do wrong and ought not to. Honestly now, isn't this true of your conscience?"

"But my reason concludes otherwise, and reason is above conscience--above everything, and one must abide by its decisions. "

For a moment Annie did not know how to answer. She was not versed intheology and metaphysics, but she knew he was wrong. Therefore shecovered her confusion by quietly pouring him out another cup of tea, and then said, "Even my slight knowledge of the past has taught me howmany absurd and monstrous things can be done and said in the name ofreason. Religion is a matter of revelation and experience. But it isnot contrary to reason, certainly not to mine. If your reason shouldconclude that this tea is not hot, what difference would that make tome? My religion is a matter of fact, of vivid consciousness. "

"Of course it is. It's your life, your nature, just as in my naturethere is nothing akin to it. That is why I say you are made ofdifferent clay from myself; and I am very glad of it, " he added withan air of pleasantry which she saw veiled genuine earnestness, "for Iwish you the best of everything now and always. "

Annie felt that she could not argue him out of his folly; and whileshe was annoyed, she could not be angry with him for expressions thatwere not meant as flattery, but were rather the strong language of hisgratitude. "Time will cure him of his delusions, " she thought, and shesaid, lightly, "Mr. Gregory, from certain knowledge of myself whichyou cannot have I disclaim all your absurd ideas in regard to the new-fangled clay of my composition. I know very well that I am ordinaryflesh and blood, a fact that you will soon find out for yourself. Asyour physician, I pronounce that such wild fancies and extravagantlanguage prove that you are out of your head, and that you needquieting sleep. I am going to read you the dullest book in the libraryas a sedative. "

"No, please, sing rather. "

"What! after such a breakfast! Do you suppose that I would ruin thereputation of my voice in one fell moment? Now what kind of clay ledto this remark? Do as your doctor says. Recline on the lounge. Closeyour eyes. Here is a treatise on the Nebular Hypothesis that looksunintelligible enough for our purpose. "

"Nebular Hypothesis! Another heavenly experience such as you are evergiving me. "

"Come, Mr. Gregory, punning is a very bad symptom. You must go tosleep at once. " And soon her mellow voice was finding its way into alabyrinth of hard scientific terms, as a mountain brook might murmuramong the stones. After a little time she asked of Gregory, whose eyesremained wide open, "How does it sound?"

"Like the multiplication table set to music. "

"Why don't you go to sleep?"

"I'm trying to solve a little nebular hypothesis of my own. I wascomputing how many million belles such as I know, and how many ages, would be required to condense them into a woman like yourself. "

Annie shut the book with a slam, and with an abrupt, half-vexed "good-by, " left the room. For a brief time Gregory lay repenting of hisdisastrous levity, and then slept. 

CHAPTER XX

MISS WALTON MADE OF ORDINARY CLAY

When Gregory awoke, the sun had sunk behind the mountains that hecould not even look toward now without a shudder, and the landscape, as seen from the window, was growing obscure in the early dusk of anautumn evening. But had the window opened on a vista in Paradise hewould not have looked without, for the one object of all the worldmost attractive to him was present. Annie sat near the hearth withsome light crochet-work in her hands. She had evidently been out for awalk, for she was drying her feet on the fender. How trim and cunningthey looked, peeping from under the white edge of her skirt, and whata pretty picture she made sitting there in the firelight! The outlineof her figure surely did not suggest the "ethereal heroine, " butrather the presiding genius in a happy home, in which the element ofcomfort abounded. She looked as if she would be a sweet-tempered, helpful companion, in the every-day cares and duties of a busy life:

 "A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food. "

"How dark and lustrous her eyes are in the firelight!" Gregorythought. "It seems as if another and more genial fire were burning inthem. What can she be thinking of, that such happy, dreamy smiles areflitting across her face? If I had such a hearth as that, and such agood angel beside it to receive me after the day's work was over, Ibelieve I could become at least a man, if not a Christian;" and hesighed so deeply that Annie looked hastily up, and encountered hiswistful gaze. 

"What a profound remark you just made!" she said. "What could have ledto it?"

"You. "

"I do not think that I am an object to sigh over. I'm perfectly well, I thank you, and have had my dinner. "

"You have no idea what a pretty picture you made. "

"Yes, in this poor light, and your disordered imagination. But did yousigh on that account?"

"No, but because to me it is only a picture--one that shall have thechief place in the gallery of my memory. In a few days I shall be inmy cheerless bachelor apartments, with nothing but a dusty register inthe place of this home-like hearth. "

"Come, Mr. Gregory, you are growing sentimental. I will go and see ifsupper is ready. "

"Please stay, and I will talk of the multiplication table. "

"No, that led to the 'Nebular Hypothesis. ' You had better prepare forsupper;" and she vanished. 

"It's my fate, " he said, rising, "to drive away every good andpleasant thing. "

He went to the fire and stood where she had sat, and again thought wasbusy. 

"She seems so real and substantial, and yet so intangible! Herdefensive armor is perfect, and I cannot get near or touch her unlessshe permits it. The sincerest compliment glances off. Out of herkindness she helps me and does me good. She bewitches and sways me byher spells, but I might as well seek to imprison a spirit of the airas to gain any hold upon her. I wonder whom or what she was thinkingof, that such dreamy, tender smiles should flit across her face. "

How his face would have darkened with wrath and hate, if he had knownthat his detestation, Hunting, had inspired them!

The tea-bell reminded him how time was passing, and he went to hisroom with an elastic step that one would suppose impossible afterseeing him in the morning. But, as is usual with nervousorganizations, he sank or rallied rapidly in accordance withcircumstances. When he appeared at the table, Mr. Walton could hardlybelieve his eyes. 

"It is again the result of Miss Walton's witchcraft, " explainedGregory. "The moment I felt her hand upon my brow, there came a senseof relief. In Italy they would make a saint of her, and bring out thesick for her to touch. "

"And so soon lose their saint by some contagious disease, " said Annie, laughing. 

"I fear, sir, I was very rude to you this morning, but in truth I wasbeside myself with pain. "

"Annie has a wonderful power of magnetism; I don't know what else tocall it, " said Miss Eulie. "She can drive away one of my headachesquicker than all other remedies combined. "

"You are making out, " said Annie, "that my proper calling is that of anurse. If you don't change the subject, I'll leave you all to takecare of yourselves, and go down to Bellevue. "

"If you do, " laughed Gregory, "I'll break every bone in my body, andbe carried into your ward as a homeless stranger. "

The supper-hour passed away in light and cheerful conversation. As ifby common consent, the scenes on the mountain were not mentioned inthe presence of the children, and they evidently had had theircuriosity satisfied on the subject. 

Annie seemed tired and languid after supper and Miss Eulie volunteeredto see the children safely to their rest. Mr. Walton insisted thatAnnie should take his easy-chair, and Gregory placed a footstool ather feet, and together they "made a baby of her, " she said. The oldgentleman then took his seat, and seemed to find unbounded content ingazing on his beloved daughter. Their guest appeared restless andbegan to pace the room. Suddenly he asked Mr. Walton, "Have you heardanything of the fugitives?"

"Not a word beyond the fact that they bought tickets for New York andtook the train. I have telegraphed to the City Police Department, andforwarded the description of their persons which Annie gave me. Theirdwelling has been examined by a competent person, but evidently he isan old and experienced criminal and knows how to cover up his tracks. I think it extremely providential that they did nothing worse thansend you over on the other side of the mountain in order to clear away for escape. Such desperate people often believe only in thesilence of death. They might have caused that dog to tear you topieces and have appeared blameless themselves. If caught, only yourtestimony could convict them, though I suspect Mrs. Tompkins and herson. Young Tompkins brought them with their luggage to the depot. Hesays the man called 'Vight' met him returning from the delivery of aload of wood, and engaged his services. As he often does teaming forpeople in those back districts his story is plausible; and he swearshe knew nothing against the man. But he is a bad drinking fellow, andjust the one to become an accomplice in any rascality. I fear theywill all escape us, and yet I am profoundly grateful that matters areno worse. "

While Mr. Walton was talking, Gregory was looking intently at Annie. She was conscious of his scrutiny, and her color rose under it, butshe continued to gaze steadily at the fire. 

"And I am going to increase that gratitude a hundred-fold, sir, " hesaid, earnestly. 

Annie looked up at him with a startled, deprecatory air. "No, MissWalton, " he said, answering her look, "I will not be silent. While itis due to your generosity that the world does not hear of your heroismas the story would naturally be told, it is your father's right thathe should hear it, and know the priceless jewel that he has in hisdaughter. I know that appearances will be against me. If you can takeher view of the matter, sir, I shall be glad, otherwise I cannot helpit;" and he related the events as they had actually occurred, softening or palliating his course in not the slightest degree. 

Mr. Walton turned ashen pale as he thus for the first time learned thedesperate nature of his daughter's peril. Then rising with a suddenimpulse of pride and affection he clasped her in his arms. 

Gregory was about to leave the room, when Mr. Walton's voice detainedhim. 

"Do not go, sir. You will pardon a father's weakness. "

"Father, I give you my word and honor, " cried Annie, eagerly, "thatMr. Gregory did not act the part of a coward. He scarcely does himselfjustice in his story. He did not realize the principle involved, andsaw in the promise he gave the readiest way out of an awkward anddangerous predicament. He did not think the man's crime was any of ourbusiness--"

"There is no need of pleading Mr. Gregory's cause so earnestly, mydear, " interrupted her father. "I think I understand his course fully, and share your view of it. I am too well accustomed to the taking ofevidence not to detect the ring of truth. "

"I cannot tell you, sir, what a relief it is to me that you and MissWalton can judge thus correctly of my action. This morning andyesterday I believed that you and all the world would regard me as themeanest of cowards, and the bitterness of death was in the thought. "

"No, sir, " said Mr. Walton, kindly but gravely; "your course did notresult from cowardice. But permit an old man and your father's friendto say that it did result from the lack of high moral principle. Itswant in this case might have been fatal, for the world, as you feared, would scarcely do you justice. Let it be a lesson to you, my dearyoung friend, that only the course which is strictly right is safe, even as far as this world is concerned. "

Gregory's face flushed deeply, but he bowed his head in humility atthe rebuke. 

"At the same time, " continued Mr. Walton, "it was manly in you tostate the case frankly to me as you have done; for you knew that youmight shield yourself behind Annie's silence. "

"It was simply your right to know it, " said Gregory, in a low tone. 

After a few moments of musing silence, Annie said, earnestly, "I do sopity that poor woman!"

"I imagine she is little better than her companion, " said Mr. Walton. 

"Indeed she is, father, " said Annie, eagerly. "I cannot tell you how Ifeel for her, and I know from her manner and words that her guiltylife is a crushing burden. It must be a terrible thing to a womancapable of good (as she is), and wishing to live a true life, to beirrevocably bound to a man utterly bad. "

"She is not so bound to him, " said her father; "can she not leavehim?"

"Ah! there comes in a mystery, " she replied, and the subject dropped. Soon after, they separated for the night. 

But Gregory had much food for painful thought. After the experience ofthat day his chief desire was to stand well in Miss Walton's esteem. And yet how did he stand--how could he stand, being what he was? Hewas not conscious of love for her as yet. He would have been satisfiedif she had said, "I will be your friend in the truest sense of theword. " He had no small vanity, and understood her kindness. She wastrying to do good to him as she would to any one else. She was sorryfor him as for the wretched woman who also found an evil life bitter, but she could never think of him as a dear, congenial, trusted friend. Even her father, in her presence, had rebuked his lack of principle, asserting that his nature was like the vile weed; and this had beenproved every day of his visit. If she should come to know of hispurpose and effort to tempt her into the display of petty weakness andlack of principle herself, would she not regard him as "utterly bad, "and shrink with loathing even from the bonds of friendship?

He was learning the lesson that wrong sooner or later will bring itsown punishment, and that the little experiment upon which he hadentered as a relief from ennui might become the impassable gulfbetween him and happiness; for he knew that, if their relations eververged toward mutual confidence, she would ask questions that wouldrender lies his only escape. He could not sink to that resort. It waslate before he found in sleep refuge from painful thoughts. 

The next day he was much alone. The news of their adventure having gotabroad, many because of their sincere regard for Annie, and not a fewout of curiosity, called to talk the matter over. After meeting one ortwo of these parties, and witnessing the modesty and grace with whichAnnie satisfied and foiled their curiosity at the same time, he wasglad to escape further company in a long and solitary ramble. The airwas mild, so that he could take rest in sunny nooks, and thus he spentmost of the day by himself. His conscience was awakened, and the morepure and beautiful Annie's character grew in his estimation, the moredastardly his attempt upon it seemed. Never before had his evil lifeappeared so hideous and hateful. 

And yet his remorse had nothing in it of true penitence. It was rathera bitter, impotent revolt at what he regarded as cruel necessity. Nowthat he had been forced to abandon his theory that people are good asthey are untempted, he adopted another, which, if it left him in amiserable predicament, exonerated him from blame. He had stated it toAnnie when he said, "You are made of different clay from otherpeople. " He tried hard to believe this, and partially succeeded. "Itis her nature to be good, and mine to be evil, " he often said tohimself that long and lonely day. "I have had a fatal gravitationtoward evil ever since I can remember. "

But this was not true. Indeed, it could be proved out of his ownmemory that he had had as many good and noble impulses as themajority, and that circumstances had not been more adverse to him thanto numerous others. He was dimly conscious of these facts, though hetried to shut his eyes to them. 

A man finally gets justice at the bar of his own conscience, but it isextorted gradually, reluctantly, with much befogging of the case. 

Still this theory would not help him much with Annie Walton, for heknew that she would never entertain it a moment. 

Thus he wandered for hours amid old scenes and boyish haunts, utterlyoblivious of them, brooding more and more darkly and despondingly overhis miserable lot. He tried to throw off the burden of depressingthought by asking, in sudden fierceness, "Well, what is Annie Waltonto me? I have only known her a short time, and having lived thus long, can live the rest of my days--probably few--without her. "

But it was of no use. His heart would not echo the words, but in itsvery depths a voice clear and distinct seemed to say, "I want to bewith her--to be near her. With her, the hours are winged; away, theyare leaden-footed. She awakens hope, she makes it appear possible tobe a man. "

He remembered her hand upon his aching brow, and groaned aloud in viewof the gulf that his own life had placed between them. 

"'Neither can they pass to us, '" he said, unconsciously repeating thewords of Scripture. "With her nature what I know it to be, she cannotin any way ally it to mine. "

As the shadows of evening deepened he sauntered wearily anddespondingly to the house. There were still guests in the parlor, andhe passed up to his room. For the first time he found it chilly andfireless. It had evidently been forgotten, and he felt himselfneglected; and it seemed that he could drop out of existence unnotedand uncared for. In what had been his own home, the place where for somany years he had experienced the most thoughtful tenderness, therecame over him a sense of loneliness and desolation such as he hadnever before known or believed possible. He felt himself orphaned ofheaven and earth, of God and man. 

But a process had commenced in Annie's mind that would have surprisedhim much. Unconsciously as yet even to herself, she was disproving his"superior clay" theory. Though carefully trained, and though for yearsshe had prayerfully sought to do right, still she was a true daughterof Eve, and was often betrayed by human weakness. She had not thesmall, habitual vanity of some pretty women, who take admiration andflattery as their due, and miss it as they do their meals. Still therewere pride and vanity in her composition, and the causes that wouldnaturally develop them were now actively at work. She consideredherself plain and unattractive personally, and so she was to thecareless glance of a stranger, but she speedily became beautiful, or, what was better, fascinating, to those who learned to know her well. All are apt to learn their strong points rather than their weak ones, and Annie had no little confidence in her power to win the attentionand then the respect and regard of those whose eyes turned awayindifferently after the first perception of her lack of beauty. Shedid not use this power like a coquette, but still she exulted in it, and was pleased to employ it where she could innocently. She wasamused by Gregory's sublime indifference at first, and thought shecould soon change that condition of his mind. She did not know thatshe was successful beyond her expectation or wishes. 

But while she rejected and was not affected by the fulsome flatterywith which he at first plied her, detecting in it the ring ofinsincerity, she had noted, with not a little self-gratulation, howspeedily she had made him conscious of her existence and developed agrowing interest. She knew nothing of his deliberate plot against her, or of its motive. Therefore his manner had often puzzled her, but sheexplained everything by saying, "He has lived too long in Paris. "

Still it is justice to her to say that while, from the natural love ofpower existing in every breast, she had her own little complacencies, and often times of positive pride and self-glorification, yet shestruggled against such tendencies, and in the main she earnestlysought to use for their own good the influence she gained over others. 

But of late there had been enough to turn a stronger head than hers. Gregory's homage and admiration were now sincere, and she knew it, andit was no trifling thing to win such unbounded esteem from a man whohad seen so much of the world and was so critical. "He may be badhimself, but he well knows what is good and noble, " was a thought thatoften recurred to her. Then, in a moment of sudden and terrible peril, she had been able to master her strong natural timidity, and be trueto conscience, and while she thanked God sincerely, she also was moreand more inclined to take a great deal of credit to herself. Gregory'swords kept repeating themselves, "You are made of different clay fromothers. " While she knew that this was not true as he meant it, stillthe tempter whispered, "You are naturally superior, and you have soschooled yourself that you are better than many others. " Her father'sintense look of pride and pleasure when he first learned of herfortitude, and his strong words of thankfulness, she took as incenseto herself. Then came a flock of eager, curious, sympathizing people, who continued to feed her aroused pride by making her out a sort ofheroine. Chief of all she was complacent in the consciousness of sogenerously shielding Gregory when, if she had told the whole story, she, in contrast with him, would appear to far greater advantage. 

Altogether, her opinion of Annie Walton was rising with dangerousrapidity; and the feeling grew strong within her that, having copedsuccessfully with such temptations, she had little to fear from thefuture. And this feeling of overweening self-confidence and self-satisfaction was beginning to tinge her manner. Not that she wouldever show it offensively, for she was too much of a lady for that. Butat the supper-table that evening she gave evident signs of elation andexcitement. She talked more than usual, and was often very positive inmatters where Gregory knew her to be wrong; and she was also a littledictatorial. At the same time the excitement made her conversationmore brilliant and pointed, and as Gregory skilfully drew her out, hewas surprised at the force and freshness of her mind. 

And yet there was something that jarred unpleasantly, a lack of thesincere simplicity and self-forgetfulness which were her usualcharacteristics. He had never known her to use the pronoun "I" withsuch distinctness and emphasis before. Still all this would not haveseemed strange to him in another, but it did in her. 

She did not notice the cloud upon his brow, or that he spoke only inorder to lead her to talk. She was too much preoccupied with herselffor her customary quick sympathy with the moods of others. She made noinquiries as to how he had spent the day, and seemingly had forgottenhim as completely as he had been absorbed in her. He saw with a deeperregret than he could understand that, except when he awakened her pityby suffering, or entertained her by his conversation as any strangermight, he apparently had no hold upon her thoughts. 

After supper, in answer to the children's demand for stories, she saidalmost petulantly that she was "too tired, " and permitted Aunt Eulieto take them with sorrowful faces away to bed earlier than usual. 

"I need a little rest and quiet, " she said. 

Gregory was eager for further conversation in order that he mightobtain some idea how mercy would tinge her judgment of him if sheshould ever come to know the worst, but she suddenly seemeddisinclined to talk, or give him any attention at all. 

Taking the arm-chair he usually occupied, and leaving the other forher father, she leaned back luxuriously and gazed dreamily into thefire. Mr. Walton politely offered Gregory his. Then Annie, suddenly, as if awakening, rose and said, "Excuse me, " and was about to vacateher seat. 

But Gregory insisted upon her keeping it, saying, "You need it morethan I, after the unusual fatigues of the day. I am no longer aninvalid. Even the ache in my bones from my cold has quitedisappeared. "

She readily yielded to his wish, and again appeared to see somethingin the fire that quite absorbed her. After receiving a few courteousmonosyllables he apparently busied himself with a magazine. 

Suddenly she said to her father, "Are you sure the steamer is due to-day?"

He replied with a nod and a smile that Gregory did not understand, andhe imagined that she also gave him a quick look of vexed perplexity. 

She did, for by that steamer she expected her lover, Mr. Hunting, whohad been abroad on a brief business visit, and she hoped that in a dayor two he would make his appearance. Conscious of the bitter enmitythat Gregory for some unknown reason cherished toward him, she dreadedtheir meeting. As Gregory watched her furtively, her brow contractedinto a positive frown. The following thoughts were the cause: "It willbe exceedingly stiff and awkward to have two guests in the house whoare scarcely on speaking terms, and unless I can make something likepeace, it will be unendurable. Moreover, I don't want any strangersaround, much less this one, while Charles is here. "

Thus in the secret of her soul Annie's hospitality gave out utterly, and in spirit she had incontinently turned an unwelcome guest out ofdoors. Now that she had really won a vantage-ground that could be usedeffectively, all her Christian and kindly purposes were forgotten inthe self-absorption that had suddenly mastered her. 

The evening was a painful one to Gregory. His sense of loneliness wasdeepened, and nowhere is such a feeling stronger than at a firesidewhere one feels that he has no right. Mr. Walton was occupied thatevening with some business papers. He had not a thought of discourtesytoward his guest. Indeed, in the perfection of hospitality, he hadadopted Gregory so completely into his household that he felt that hecould treat him as one of the family. And yet Mr. Walton was alsosecretly uneasy at the prospect of entertaining hostile guests, and, with his knowledge of the world, was not sure that peace between themcould be made in an hour. 

The disposition of those around us often creates an atmosphere, nothing tangible but something felt; and the impression on Gregory'smind, that he belonged not to this household, but to the outsideworld--that the circle of their lives did not embrace him, and thathis visit might soon come to an end without much regret on their part--was not without cause. And yet they would have consciously failed inno duty of hospitality had he stayed for weeks. 

But never before had Gregory so felt his isolation. He had but fewrelatives, and they were not congenial. His life abroad, and neglect, had made them comparative strangers. But here, in the home of hischildhood, the dearest spot of earth, were those who might becomeequally loved with it. In a dim, obscure way the impression wasgrowing upon him that his best chance for life and happiness stillcentred in the place where he had once known true life and happiness. Annie Walton seemed to him the embodiment of life. She was governedand sustained by a principle which he could not understand, and whichfrom his soul he was beginning to covet. 

His good father and mother had been like old Mr. Walton. Their voyageof life was nearly over as he remembered them, and they were enteringthe quiet, placid waters of the harbor. Whether they had reached theirhaven of rest through storm and temptation, he did not know, but feltthat they never could have had his unfortunate experience or beenthreatened with utter wreck. They belonged to his happier yet vanishedpast, which could never return. 

But Annie unexpectedly awakened hope for the present and future. Thiseager-eyed, joyous girl, looking forward with almost a child's delightto the life he dreaded--this patient woman already taking up the caresand burdens of her lot with cheerful acceptance--this strong, high-principled maiden, facing and mastering temptation in the spirit ofthe olden time--this daughter of nature was full of inspiration. Neverhad he found her society a weariness. On the contrary she had stirredhis slow, feeble pulse, and revived his jaded mind, from the first. Her pure, fresh thought and feeling had been like a breath from anoasis to one perishing in the desert. But chiefly had her kindness, delicacy, and generosity, when in his moral and physical weakness hehad been completely at her mercy, won his deepest gratitude. Also hefelt that in all his after life he could never even think of her touchupon his aching temples without an answering thrill of his wholenature that appeared to have an innate sympathy with hers. 

And yet the exasperating mystery of it all! While she was becoming theone source of life and hope for him, while his very soul cried out forher friendship and sisterly regard (as he would then have said), sheseemed, in her preoccupation, unconscious of his existence, and heinstinctively felt that she would bid him "good-by" on the followingday, perhaps, with a sense of relief, and the current of her life flowon as smoothly and brightly as if he had never caused a passingagitation. 

With gnawing remorse he inwardly cursed his evil life and unworthycharacter, for these he believed formed the hopeless gulf thatseparated them. 

"It is the same, " he said, in his exaggerating way, "as if a puddleshould mirror the star just above it, and, becoming enamored, shouldwish it to fall and be quenched in its foul depths. "

But he did himself great wrong; for in the fact that Annie soattracted him he proved that he possessed large capabilities of good. 

He could not bear to see her sitting there so quietly forgetful ofhim, and so made several vain attempts during the evening to draw herinto conversation. Finding her disinclined to talk, he at lastventured to ask her to sing. With something like coldness she replied, "Really, Mr. Gregory, I am not in the mood for it this evening;besides, I am greatly fatigued. "

What a careless, indifferent shrug he usually gave when fair ladiesdenied his requests! Now, for some unaccountable reason, he flusheddeeply and a sharp pain came into his heart. But he only said, "Pardonme, Miss Walton, for not seeing this myself. But you know that I amselfishness embodied, and your former good-nature leads me topresume. "

Annie gave him a hurried smile, as she answered, "Another time I willtry to keep up my character better"; and then she was absorbed againin a picture among the hickory coals. 

Like many who live in the country and are much alone, she was given tofits of abstraction and long reveries. She had no idea how the timewas passing, and meant to exert herself before the evening was overfor the benefit of her father and guest. But her lively imaginationcould not endure interruption till it had completed some scenesconnected with him she hoped so soon to see. Moreover, as we havesaid, the tendency to self-absorption had been developing rapidly. 

After the last rebuff, Gregory was very quiet, and soon rose andexcused himself, saying that he had taken longer walks than usual andneeded rest. 

Annie awakened, as if out of a dream, with a pang of self-reproach, and said, "I have been a wretched hostess this evening. I hope youwill forgive me. The fact is, I've been talked out to-day. "

"And I had not the wit to entertain and interest you, so I needforgiveness more. Good-night. "

Mr. Walton looked up from his business papers and smiled genially overhis spectacles and then was as absorbed as before. 

Annie sat down with a vague sense of discontent. With their guest, herdreams also had gone, and she became conscious that she had treatedhim with almost rude neglect, and that he had borne it in a spiritdifferent from that which he usually showed. But she petulantly saidto herself, "I can't always be exerting myself for him as if he were asick child. "

But conscience replied, "You have so much to make you happy, and he solittle! You are on the eve of a great joy, and you might have givenhim one more pleasant evening. "

But she met these accusations with a harshness all unlike herself. "It's his own fault that he is not happy. He had no business to spoilhis life. "

"Yes, " retorted conscience, "but you have promised and purposed tohelp him find the true life, and now you wish him out of the way, andhave lost one of your best opportunities and perhaps your last; for hewill not stay after Hunting comes;" and, self-condemned, she felt thatshe had spent a very selfish and profitless evening. 

For some reason she did not feel like staying to prayers with herfather and Miss Eulie, who now came in, but, printing a hasty kiss onMr. Walton's cheek, said, "Good-night. I'm tired, and going to bed. "Even in her own room there was a malign influence at work that madeher devotion formal and brief, and she went to sleep, "out of sorts. "

CHAPTER XXI

PASSION AND PENITENCE

The cloud on her brow had not disappeared on the ensuing morning whenshe came down to breakfast. Unless the causes are removed, the badmoods of one day are apt to follow us into the next. 

Annie was now entering upon one of those periods when, in accordancewith a common expression, "everything goes wrong, " and the worlddevelops a sudden perverseness that distracts and irritates even thepatient. 

The butcher had neglected to fill the order for breakfast, and Jeff, also under the baleful spell, had killed an ancient hen instead of aspring chicken, to supply the sudden need. 

"Couldn't cotch nothin' else, " he answered stolidly to Annie's sharpreprimand, so sharp that Gregory, who was walking toward the barn, wassurprised. 

Zibbie was fuming in the broadest Scotch, and had spoiled her coffee, and altogether it was a sorry breakfast to which they sat down thatmorning; and Annie's worried, vexed looks did not make it moreinviting. Gregory tried to appear unconscious, and directed hisconversation chiefly to Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie. 

"Annie, " said her father, humorously, "it seems to me that this fowlmust have reminiscences of the ark. "

But she could not take a jest then, and pettishly answered that "if hekept such a stupid man as Jeff, he could not expect anything else. "

Annie was Jeff's best friend, and had interceded for him in some ofhis serious scrapes, but her mood now was like a gusty day that givesdiscomfort to all. 

After a few moments she said, suddenly, "O father, I forgot to tellyou. I invited the Camdens here to dinner to-day. "

His face clouded instantly, and he looked exceedingly annoyed. 

"I am very sorry to hear it, " he said. 

"Why so?" asked Annie, with an accent that Gregory had never heard heruse toward her father. 

"Because I shall have to be absent, for one reason. I meant to tellyou about it last evening, but you seemed so occupied with your ownthoughts, and disappeared at last so suddenly, that I did not get achance. But there is no help for it. I have very important businessthat will take me out to Woodville, and you know it requires a goodlong day to go and come. "

"It will never do in the world for you to be away, " cried Annie. 

"Can't help it, my dear; it's business that must be attended to. "

"But, father, " she urged, "the Camdens are new people, and said to bevery wealthy. We ought to show them some attention. They were socordial yesterday, and spoke so handsomely of you, expressing a wishto meet you and be social, that I felt that I could not do otherwisethan invite them. For reasons you understand it may not be convenientto see them very soon after to-day. "

The old gentleman seemed to share his daughter's vexation, but from adifferent cause, and after a moment said, "You are right; they are'new people' in more senses than one, and appear to me to be assuminga great deal more than good taste dictates in view of the past. Asmistress of my home I wish you to feel that you have the right toinvite any one you please, within certain limits. The Camdens arepeople that I would do any kindness to and readily help if they werein trouble, but I do not wish to meet them socially. "

Tears of shame and anger glistened in Annie's eyes as she said, "I'msure you know very well that I wish to entertain no vulgar, pushingpeople. I knew nothing of their 'past. ' They seemed pleasant when theycalled. They were said to have the means to be liberal if they wished, and I thought they would be an acquisition to our neighborhood, andthat we might interest them in our church and other things. "

"In my view, " replied Mr. Walton, a little hotly, "the church andevery good cause would be better off without their money, for, inplain English, it was acquired in a way that you and I regard asdishonorable. I'm very sorry they've come to spend it in ourneighborhood. The fact may not be generally known here, but it soonwill be. I consider such people the greatest demoralizers of the age, flaunting their ill-gotten wealth in the faces of the honest, andcausing the young to think that if they only get money, no matter how, society will receive them all the same. I am annoyed beyond measurethat we should seem to give them any countenance whatever. Moreover, it is necessary that I go to Woodville. "

"O dear!" exclaimed Annie, in a tone of real distress, "what shall Ido? If I had only known all this before!" Then, turning with suddenirritation to her father, she asked, "Why did you not tell me aboutthem?"

"Because you never asked, and I saw no occasion to. I do not like tospeak evil of my neighbors, even if it be true. I did not know of yourcall upon them till after it occurred, and then remarked, if you willremember, that they were people that I did not admire. "

"Yes, " she exclaimed, in a tone of strong self-disgust, "I do rememberyour saying so, though I had no idea you meant anything like what younow state. The wretched mystery of it all is, why could I not haveremembered it yesterday?"

"Well, my dear, " replied the father, with the glimmer of a smile, "youwere a bit preoccupied yesterday; though I don't wonder at that. "

"I see it all now, " cried Annie, impetuously. "But it was with myselfI was preoccupied, and therefore I made a fool of myself. I was rudeto you last night also, Mr. Gregory, so taken up was I with my ownwonderful being. "

"Indeed, Miss Walton, I thought you were thinking of another, " saidhe, with a keen glance, and she blushed so deeply that he feared shewas; but he added, quickly, "You once told me that it was as wrong tojudge one's self harshly as another. I assure you that I've nocomplaints to make, but rather feel gratitude for your kindness. As tothis other matter, it seems to me that in your ignorance of thesepeople you have acted very naturally. "

"I'm sorry I did not tell you more about them, " said her father. "Idid intend to, but somehow it escaped me. "

"Well, " said Annie, with a long breath, "I am fairly in the scrape. I've invited them, and the question now is, what shall we do?"

The old merchant, with his intense repugnance to anything likecommercial dishonesty, was deeply perturbed. The idea of entertainingat his board as guest a man with whom he would not have a businesstransaction was exceedingly disagreeable. Leaving the unsatisfactorybreakfast half-finished, he rose and paced the room in his perplexity. At last he spoke, as much to himself as to his daughter. "It shallnever be said that John Walton was deficient in hospitality. They havebeen invited by one who had the right, so let them come, and betreated as guests ever are at our house. This much is due toourselves. But after to-day let our relations be as slight aspossible. Mr. Gregory, you are under no obligation to meet suchpeople, and need not appear unless you wish. "

"With your permission I will be present, sir, and help Miss Waltonentertain them. Indeed, I can claim such slight superiority to theseCamdens or any one else that I have no scruples. "

"How is that?" asked Mr. Walton, with a grave, questioning look. "Itrust you do not uphold the theory that seems to prevail in somecommercial circles, that any mode by which a man can get money andescape State prison is right?"

"I imagine I am the last one in the world to uphold such a 'theory, '"replied Gregory, quickly, with one of his expressive shrugs, "inasmuchas I am a poor man to-day because this theory has been put in practiceagainst me. No, Mr. Walton, " he continued, with the dignity of truth, "it is but justice to myself to say that my mercantile life has beenas pure as your own, and that is the highest encomium that I couldpass upon it. At the same time it has been evident to you from thefirst day I came under your roof that I am not the good man that youloved in my father. "

The old gentleman sighed deeply. He was too straightforward to uttersome trite, smooth remark, such as a man of the world might make. Regarding Gregory kindly, he said, almost as if it were a prayer, "Mayhis mantle fall on you. You have many traits and ways that remind mestrongly of him, and you have it in you to become like him. "

Gregory shook his head in deep dejection, and said in a low tone, "No, never. "

"You know not the power of God, " said Mr. Walton, gravely. "At anyrate, thank Him that He has kept you from the riches of those who I amsorry to find must be our guests to-day. "

The children now came in from their early visit to the chestnut-trees, and the subject was dropped. Mr. Walton left the room, and Gregoryalso excused himself. Miss Eulie had taken no part in the discussion. It was not in her nature to do so. She sat beaming with sympathy onboth Annie and her brother-in-law, and purposing to do all she couldto help both out of the dilemma. She felt sorry for them, and sorryfor the Camdens and Gregory, and indeed everybody in this troubledworld; but such were her pure thoughts and spiritual life that she wasgenerally on the wing, so far above earthly things that they hadlittle power to depress her. 

The burden of the day fell upon Annie, and a heavy one she found it. Her lack of peace within was reflected upon her face, and in hersatellites that she usually managed with such quiet grace. Zibbie wasin one of her very worst tantrums, and when she heard that there wasto be company to dinner, seemed in danger of flying into fragments. The thistle, the emblem of her land, was a meek and downy flowercompared with this ancient dame. When she took up or laid down anyutensil, it was in a way that bade fair to reduce the kitchen to chaosbefore night. Jeff had "got his back up" also about the hen, and wasas stupid and sullen as only Jeff knew how to be; and even quietHannah was almost driven to frenzy by Zibbie reproaching her for beingeverything under heaven that she knew she was not. In her usual stateof mind Annie could have partly allayed the storm, and poured oil onthe troubled waters, but now disquietude sat on her own brow, and shegave her orders in the sharp, decisive tone that compels reluctantobedience. 

The day was raw and uncomfortable, and Gregory resolved to make hiseasy-chair by the parlor fire the point from which he would watch thedevelopment of this domestic drama. He had no vulgar, pryingcuriosity, but an absorbing interest in the chief actor; and wascompelled to admit that the being whom he had come to regard asfaultless was growing human faster than he liked. 

This impression was confirmed when the children came tearing throughthe main hall past the parlor to the dining-room opposite, which theyentered, leaving the door open. Annie was there preparing the dessert. Country house-keepers can rarely leave these matters to rural cooks, and Zibbie could be trusted to sweeten nothing that day. 

With exclamations of delight the children clamored to help, or "muss"a little in their own way, a privilege often given them at such times. But Annie sent them out-of-doors again with a tone and manner thatcaused them to tip-toe back past the parlor with a scared look ontheir faces, and the dining-room door was shut with a bang. 

Gregory was puzzled. Here was one who had foiled his most adroittemptations, and resisted wrong in a way that was simply heroic, firstshowing something very like vanity and selfishness, and then temperand passion on what seemed but slight provocation. He did not realize, as many do not, that the petty vexations of life will often sting intothe most humiliating displays of weakness one who has the courage andstrength to be a martyr. Generals who were as calm and grand in battleas Mont Blanc in a storm have been known to fume like small beer, incamp, at very slight annoyances. 

Annie's spirit was naturally quick and imperious, brooking oppositionfrom no one. She was also fond of approbation. She rated Gregory'shollow French gallantry at its true worth, but his subsequent sincererespect and admiration, after their mountain adventure, hadunconsciously elated her, especially as she felt that she had earnedthem well. 

Thus, when he had not intended it, and had given over as hopeless hispurpose to tempt her, and dropped it in self-loathing that he shouldever have entertained it, he had by his honest gratitude and esteemawakened the dormant vanity which was more sensitive to tributes toher character than to mere personal compliments. The attention she hadreceived the day before had developed this self-complacency stillmore, and the nice balance of her moral life had been disturbed. 

It seems that the tempter watches for every vantage. At any rate, asshe expressed it, "everything went wrong" that day. One weakness, onewrong, prepares the way for another as surely as when one soldier ofDiabolus gets within the city he will open the gates to others; andAnnie's temper, that she had so long and prayerfully schooled, was theweak point inevitably assailed. She was found with her armor off. Shehad closed the preceding day and entered on the present with the formand not the reality of prayer. Therefore it was Annie Walton alone whowas coping with temptation. She felt that all was wrong without andwithin. She felt that she ought to go to God at once in acknowledgmentand penitence, and regain her peace; but pride and passion werearoused. She was hurried and worried, full of impotent revolt atherself and everything. She was in no mood for the dreaded self-examination that she knew must come. She was like a little waywardchild, that, while it loves its parents, yet grieves and wrongs themby lack of obedience and simple trust, and having wronged them, partlyfrom pride and partly from fear, does not humbly seek reconciliation. 

The obnoxious guests came, and the dinner followed. Mr. Walton was theembodiment of stately courtesy, but it was a courtesy due to JohnWalton rather than to them, and it somewhat awed and depressed theCamdens. Zibbie had done her best to spoil the dinner, and, in spiteof Annie, had succeeded tolerably well. Only the dessert, which Anniehad made, did credit to her housekeeping. Hannah waited on them as ifshe were assisting at their obsequies. Altogether it was a ratherheavy affair, though Gregory honestly did his best to entertain, andtalked on generalities and life abroad, which the Camdens were glad tohear about, so incessantly that he scarcely had time to eat. But hewas abundantly rewarded by a grateful look from Annie. 

As for herself, she could not converse connectedly or well. She wastrammelled by her feeling toward the guests; she was so vexed withherself, mortified at the dinner, and angry with Zibbie, whom shementally vowed to discharge at once, that she felt more like cryingthan talking graceful nonsense; for the Camdens soon proved themselvesequal only to chit-chat. She sat at her end of the table, red, flurried, and nervous, as different as possible from the refined, elegant hostess that she could be. 

Gregory was also much interested in observing how one so truthfulwould act under the circumstances, and he saw that she was sorelypuzzled continually by her efforts to be both polite and honest. 

The Camdens were puzzled also, and severely criticised theirentertainers, mentally concluding and afterward asserting, withcountless variations, that Miss Walton was wonderfully overrated--thatshe was a poor housekeeper, and, they should judge, but littleaccustomed to good society. 

"I never saw a girl so flustered, " Mrs. Camden would remark, complacently. "Perhaps our city style rather oppressed her; and as forMr. Walton, he put on so much dignity that he leaned over backward. They evidently don't belong to our set. "

That was just the trouble, and Mrs. Camden was right and wrong at thesame time. 

Their early departure was satisfactory to both parties. Mr. Waltondrew a long breath of immeasurable relief, and then called briskly toJeff, who was coming up from the garden, "Harness Dolly to my buggy. "

"Why, father, where are you going?" exclaimed Annie. 

"To Woodville. "

"Now, father--" began Annie, laying hold of his arm. 

"Not a word, my dear; I must go. "

"But it will be late in the night before you can get back. The day iscold and raw, and it looks as if it would rain. "

"I can't help it. It's something I can't put off. Hurry, Jeff, and getready to go with me. "

"O dear!" cried Annie; "this is the worst of all. Let me go for you--please do. "

"I'm not a child, " said the old gentleman, irritably. "Since I couldnot go this morning, I must go now. Please don't worry me. It's publicbusiness that I have no right to delay, and I promised that it shouldbe attended to today;" and with a hasty "good-by" he took his overcoatand started. 

Annie was almost beside herself with vexation and self-reproach, andher feelings must find vent somewhere. Gregory prudently retired tohis room. 

"There's Zibbie, " she thought; "I'll teach her one lesson;" and shewent to the kitchen and discharged the old servant on the spot. 

Zibbie was in such a reckless state of passion that she didn't care ifthe world came to an end. The only comfort Annie got in this directionwas a volley of impudence. 

"I hod discharged mesel' afore ye spoke, " said the irate dame. "An' yethink I'm gang to broil an ould hen for a spring chicken in peace andquietness, ye're a' wrong. An' then to send that dour nagur a speerin'roun' among my fowl that I've raised from babies--I'll na ston it. I'll gang, I'll gang, but ye'll greet after the ould 'ooman for a' o'that. "

Annie then retreated to the sitting-room, where Miss Eulie wasplacidly mending Susie's torn apron, and poured into her ears thestory of her troubles. 

"To be sure--to be sure, " Aunt Eulie would answer, soothingly; "butthen, Annie dear, it all won't make any difference a hundred yearsfrom now. "

This only irritated Annie more, and at the same time impressed herwith her own folly in being so disturbed by comparative trifles. 

Gregory found his room chill and comfortless, therefore he put on hisovercoat, and started for a walk, full of surprise and painfulmusings. As he was descending the stairs, Johnny came running in, crying in a tone of real distress, "Oh, Aunt Annie, Aunt Annie, I'm sosorry, so very sorry--"

Annie came running out of the sitting-room, exclaiming sharply, "Whaton earth is the matter now? Hasn't there been trouble enough for oneday?"

"I'm so sorry, " sobbed the little boy, "but I got a letter at thepost-office, and I--I--lost it coming across the lots, and I--I--can'tfind it. "

This was too much. This was the ardently-looked-for letter that hadglimmered like a star of hope and promise of better things throughoutthis miserable day, and Annie lost all control of herself. Rushingupon the child, she cried, "You naughty, careless boy! I'll give youone lesson"; and she shook him so violently that Gregory's indignationgot the better of him, and he said, in a low, deep tone, "Miss Walton, the child says he is 'very, very sorry. ' He has not meant to dowrong. "

Annie started back as if she were committing sacrilege, and coveredher face with her hands. Her back was toward Gregory, but he could seethe hot blood mantling her very neck. She stood there for a moment, trembling like a leaf, and he, repenting of his hasty words, was aboutto apologize, when she suddenly caught the boy in her arms, and spedpast him up the stairs to her own room. 

To his dying day he would never forget the expression of her face. 

It cannot be described. It was the look of a noble spirit, deeplywounded, profoundly penitent. Her intense feeling touched him, and therough October winds brushed a tear from his own eyes more than oncebefore he returned. 

CHAPTER XXII

NOT A HEROINE, BUT A WOMAN

The cold, cynical man of the world was in a maze. He was deeply andpainfully surprised at Miss Walton, and scarcely less so at himself. How could he account for the tumult at his heart? When he first sawthat outburst of passion against a trembling, pleading child, he feltthat he wished to leave the house then and forever. The next moment, when he saw Annie's face as she convulsively clasped the boy to herbreast, and with supernatural strength fled to the refuge of her room, he was not only instantly disarmed of anger, but touched and melted ashe had never been before. 

Feeling is sometimes so intense that it is like the lightning, andburns its way instantly to the consciousness of others. Words ofcondemnation would have died on the lips of the sternest judge had heseen Annie's face. It would have shown him that the harshest thingsthat he could utter were already anticipated in unmeasured self-upbraidings. 

From anger and disgust Gregory passed to the profoundest pity. Thechildren's unbounded affection for Annie proved that she was usuallykind and patient toward them. A little thought convinced him that theact he saw was a sudden outburst of passion for which the exasperatingevents of the day had been a preparation. Her face showed as nolanguage could how sincere and deep would be her repentance. He hadnot gone very far into the early twilight of a grove before he wasconscious of a strong and secret exultation. 

"She is not made of different clay from others, " he said. "She cannotcondemn me so utterly now; and, in view of what I have seen, shecannot loftily deny the kinship of human weakness. 

"What a nature she has, with its subterranean fires! She is none ofyour cool, calculating creatures, who cipher out from day to day whatis policy to do. She will act rightly till there is an irrepressibleirruption, and then, beware. And yet these ebullitions enrich her lifeas the lava flow does the sides of Vesuvius. I shall be greatlydisappointed if she is not ten times more kind, sympathetic, and self-forgetful than she was before; and as for that boy, she will keep himin the tallest clover for weeks to come, to make up for this. 

"How piquant she is! I do not fear her quick, flame-like spirit whenit is combined with so much conscience and principle. Indeed, I likeher passion. It warms my cold, heavy heart. I wish she had shaken me, who deserved it, instead of the child, and if any makings-up like thatin yonder room could follow, I would like to be shaken every day inthe week. It would make a new man of me. "

In the excitement of his feelings, he had gone further than he hadintended, and the dusk was deepening fast when he reached the house onhis return. He felt not a little uneasy as to his reception after therebuke he had given, but counted much on Annie's just and generousdisposition. He entered quietly at a side door and passed through thedining-room into the hall. The lamp in the parlor was unlighted, butthe bright wood fire shed a soft, uncertain radiance throughout theroom. A few notes of prelude were struck on the piano, and he knewthat Miss Walton was there. Stepping silently forward opposite theopen door, he stood in the dark hall watching her as she sung thefollowing words:

 "My Father, once again Thy wayward child In sorrow, shame, and weakness comes to Thee, Confessing all my sin, my passion wild, My selfishness and petty vanity. 

 "O Jesus, gentle Saviour, at Thy feet I fall, where often I have knelt before; Thou wilt not spurn, nor charge me with deceit, Because old faults have mastered me once more. 

 "Thou knowest that I would be kind and true, And that I hate the sins that pierced Thy side; Thou seest that I often sadly view The wrong that in my heart will still abide. 

 "But Thou didst come such erring ones to save, And weakness wins Thy strong and tender love; So not in vain I now forgiveness crave, And cling to hopes long stored with Thee above. 

 "And yet I plead that Thou would'st surely keep My weak and human heart in coming days; Though now in penitence I justly weep, O fill my future life with grateful praise. "

As in tremulous, melting tones she sung this simple prayer with tearsglistening in her eyes, Gregory was again conscious of the strong, answering emotion which the presence of deep feeling in those bound tous by some close tie of sympathy often excites. But far more than merefeeling moved him now. Her words and manner vivified an old truthfamiliar from infancy, but never realized or intelligently believed--the power of prayer to secure practical help from God. 

How often men have lived and died poor just above mines of untoldwealth! Gaunt famine has been the inmate of households while therewere buried treasures under the hearthstone. So multitudes in theirspiritual life are weak, despairing, perishing, when by the simpledivinely appointed means of prayer they might fill their lives withstrength and fulness. How long men suffered and died with diseasesthat seemed incurable, before they discovered in some common object apotent remedy that relieved pain and restored health!

As is the case with many brought up in Christian homes, with no onething was Gregory more familiar than prayer. For many years he hadsaid prayers daily, and yet he had seldom in all his life prayed, andof late years had come to be a practical infidel in regard to thissubject. People who only say prayers, and expect slight, or no resultsfrom them, or are content year after year to see no results--who lacksimple, honest, practical faith in God's word, such as they have inthat of their physician or banker--who only feel that they ought topray, and that in some vague, mystical manner it may do them good, arevery apt to end as sceptics in regard to its efficacy and value. Orthey may become superstitious, and continue to say prayers as the poorIndian mutters his incantation to keep off the witches. God hearsprayer when His children cry to Him--when His faithful friends speakto Him straight and true from their hearts; and such know well thatthey are answered. 

As Gregory looked at and listened to Annie Walton, he could no morebelieve that she was expressing a little aimless religious emotion, just as she would sing a sentimental ballad, than he could think thatshe was only showing purposeless filial affection if she were hangingon her father's arm and pleading for something vital to her happiness. The thought flashed across him, "Here may be the secret of her powerto do right--the help she gets from a source above and beyond herself. Here may be the key to both her strength and weakness. Here glimmerslight even for me. "

Annie was about to sing again, but the interest which she had awakenedwas so strong that he could not endure delay. Anxiety as to hispersonal reception was forgotten, and he stepped forward andinterrupted her with a question. 

"Miss Walton, do you honestly believe that?"

"Believe what?" said she, hastily, quite startled. 

"What I gathered from the hymn you sung--that your prayer is reallyheard and answered?"

"Why, certainly I believe it, " said Annie, in a shocked and painedtone. "Do you think me capable of mockery in such things? And yet, "she added, sadly, "perhaps after to-day you think me capable ofanything. "

"Now you do both yourself and me wrong, " Gregory eagerly replied. "Ido believe you are sincerely trying to obey your conscience. Did I notsee your look of sorrow as you passed me on the stairs?--when shall Iforget it! Remember words that must have been inspired, which you oncequoted to me--

 "'Who by repentance is not satisfied Is not of heaven nor earth, '

and pardon me when I tell you that I have been listening the last fewmoments out in the hall. Your tones and manner would melt the heart ofan infidel, and they have made me wish that I were not so unbelieving. Forgive me for even putting such thoughts in your mind--I feel it iswicked and selfish in me to do it--but how do you know that yourprayer, though so direct and sincere, was not sound lost in space?"

"Because it has been answered, " she replied, eagerly. "Peace came evenas I spoke the words. Because whenever I really pray to God he answersme. "

They now stood on opposite sides of the hearth, with the glowing firebetween them. In its light Annie's wet eyes glistened, but she hadforgotten herself in her sincere and newly awakened interest in himwhom she had secretly hoped and purposed before to lead to betterthings. It had formed no small part of her keen self-reproach that shehad forgotten that purpose, and wished him out of the way, just as shewas beginning to gain a decided influence over him for good. Afterwhat he had witnessed that afternoon she felt that he would neverlisten to her again. 

He would not had he detected the slightest tinge of acting orinsincerity on her part, but her penitence had been as real as herpassion. 

She was glad and grateful indeed when he approached her again in thespirit he now manifested. 

As she stood there in the firelight, self-forgetful, conscious only ofher wish to say some words that would be like light to him, her large, humid eyes turned up to his face, she made a picture that his motherwould like to see. 

He leaned against the mantel and looked dejectedly into the fire. After a moment he said, sadly, "I envy you, Miss Walton. I wish Icould believe in a personal God who thought about us and cared for us--that is, each one of us. Of course I believe in a Supreme Being--agreat First Cause; but He hides Himself behind the stars; He is lostto me in His vast universe. I think my prayers once had an effect onmy own mind, and so did me some good. But that's past, and now I mightas well pray to gravitation as to anything else. "

Then, turning to her, he caught her wistful, interested look--anexpression which said plainly, "I want to help you, " and it touchedhim. He continued, feelingly, "Perhaps you are not conscious of it, but you now look as if you cared whether I was good or bad, was sad orhappy, lived or died. If I could only see that God cared in somethingthe same way! He no doubt intends to do what is best for the race inthe long run, but that may involve my destruction. I dread Histerrible, inexorable laws. "

"Alas!" said Annie, tears welling up into her eyes, "I am not wiseenough to argue out these matters and demonstrate the truth. I supposeit can be done by those who know how. "

"I doubt it, " said he, shaking his head decisively. 

"Well, I can tell you only what I feel and know. "

"That is better than argument--that is what I would like. You are nota weak, sentimental woman, full of mysticism and fancies, and I shouldhave much confidence in what you know and feel. "

"Do not say that I am not a weak woman; I have shown you otherwise. Besincere with me, for I am with you. Well, it seems to me that thisquestion of prayer is simply one of fact. We know that God answersprayer, not only because He said He would, but because He does. Frommy own experience I am as certain of it as of my existence. I thinkthat many who sneer or doubt in regard to prayer are very unfair. Iask you, is it scientific for men to say, 'Nothing is true save whatwe have seen and know ourselves?' How that would limit one'sknowledge. If some facts are discovered in Europe and established by afew proper witnesses, we believe them here. Now in every agemultitudes have said that it was a fact that God heard and answeredtheir prayers. What right has any one to ignore these truths any morethan any other truths of human experience? I ask my earthly father forsomething. The next day I find it on my dressing-table. Is it adelusion to believe that he heard and granted my request? When I askmy Heavenly Father for outward things, He sometimes gives them, andsometimes He does not, as He sees is best for me, just as my parentsdid when I was a little child. And I have already seen that He hasoften been kinder in refusing. But when I ask for that which will meetmy deeper and spiritual needs I seldom ask in vain. If you should askme how I know it, I in return ask how you know that you are ill, orwell, that you are glad or sad, or tired, or anything about yourselfthat depends on your own inner consciousness? If I should say unjust, insulting things to you now, how would you know you were angry? If Ishould say, Mr. Gregory, you are mocking me; what I am now saying hasno interest for you; you don't hear me, you don't understand me, youare thinking of something else, what kind of proof to the contrarycould you offer? Suppose that I should say I want mathematical proofthat you do feel an interest, or physical proof--something that I canmeasure, weigh, or see--should I be reasonable? Do I make it clear toyou why I say I know this?"

"Clearer than it was ever made to me before. I cannot help seeing thatyou are sincere and sure about it. But pardon me--I've got in such aninveterate habit of doubting--are not good Catholics just as sureabout the Virgin and the saints hearing and answering them? and do notpagans feel the same way about their deities?"

"Now, Mr. Gregory, " said Annie, with a little indignant reproach inher tone, "do you think it just and reasonable to compare my faith, orthat of any intelligent Christian, with the gross superstitions youname? Christianity is not embraced only by the ignorant and weak-minded: multitudes of the best and ripest scholars in the world arehonest believers. "

"Indeed, Miss Walton, I did not mean you to draw any such inference asthat, " replied he, hastily and in some confusion. 

"I do not see how any other can be drawn, " she continued; "and I knowfrom what I have read and heard that unbelievers usually seek to givethat impression. But it's not a fair one. The absurdities of paganism, monkish legends, and even the plausible errors of the Romish Church, will not endure the light of intelligent education; but the more Iknow the more I see the beauty and perfection of the Christianreligion and the reasonableness of prayer, and so it is with farstronger and wiser heads than mine. Your father and mine were nevermen to be imposed upon, nor to believe anything just because they weretold to do so when children. "

"Really, Miss Walton, you said you couldn't argue about this matter. Ithink you can, like a lawyer. "

"If you mean that I am using a lawyer's proverbial sleight of hand, I'm sorry. "

"I don't mean that at all, but that you put your facts in such a waythat it's hard to meet them. "

"I only try to use common-sense. It's about the only sense I have. ButI was in hopes you did not want to meet what I say adversely, butwould like to believe. "

"I would, Miss Walton, honestly I would; but wishes go little wayagainst stubborn doubt. This one now rises: How is it that scientificmen are so apt to become infidel in regard to the Bible and itsteachings, and especially prayer?"

"I'm sure I hardly know, " she answered, with a sigh; "but I will tellyou what I think. I don't believe the majority of them know much abouteither the Bible or prayer. With my little smattering of geology Ishould think it very presuming to give an opinion contrary to thatheld by the best authorities in that science; and I think it verypresuming in those who rarely look into a Bible and never pray, totell those who read and pray daily that they don't know what they doknow. Then again, scientific people often apply gross material teststo matters of faith and religious experience. The thing is absurd. Suppose a man should seek to investigate light with a pair of scalesthat could not weigh anything less than a pound. There is a spiritualand moral world as truly as a physical, and spiritual facts are justas good to build on as any other; and I should think they ought to bebetter, because the spirit is the noblest part of us. A man who seesonly one side of a mountain has no right to declare that the other isjust like it. Then again your scientific oracles are alwayscontradicting one another, and upsetting one another's theories. Science to-day laughs at the absurdities believed by the learned ahundred years ago; and so will much that is now called science, andbecause of which men doubt the Bible, be laughed at in the future. Butmy belief is the same substantially as that of Paul, St. Augustine, Luther, and the best people of my own age; and Luther, who did morefor the world than any other mere man, said that to 'pray well was towork well. '"

When Annie was under mental excitement, she was a rapid, fluenttalker, and this was especially her condition this evening. As shelooked earnestly at Gregory while she spoke, her dark eyes glowingwith feeling and intelligence and lighting her whole face, he wasimpressed more than he could have been by the labored arguments of acool, logical scholar. Her intense earnestness put a soul into thebody of her words. He was affected more than he wished her to know, more than was agreeable to his pride. What she had said seemed soperfectly true and real to her that for the time she made it true tohim; and yet to admit that his long-standing doubts could not endureso slight an assault as this, was to show that they had a very flimsybasis. Moreover, he knew that when, left to himself, he should thinkit all over, new questions would rise that could not be answered, andnew doubts return. Therefore he could not receive now what he might bedisposed to doubt to-morrow. He was a trifle bewildered, and wantedtime to think. He was as much interested in Miss Walton as in what shewas saying, and when her words proved that she was a thoughtful woman, and could be the intelligent companion of any man, the distractingfear grew stronger that when she came to know him well, she wouldcoldly stand aloof. The very thought was unendurable. In all theworld, only in the direction of Annie Walton seemed there any lightfor him. So to gain time he instinctively sought to give a lessserious turn to the conversation, by saying, "Come, Miss Walton, thisis the best preaching I've ever heard. It seems to me quite unusual tofind a young lady so interested and well versed in these matters. Youmust have given a good deal of thought and reading to the subject. "

Annie looked disappointed. She had hoped for a better result from herearnest words than a compliment and a little curiosity as to herself. But she met him in his own apparent mood, and said, "Now see howeasily imposed upon your sceptical people are! I could palm myselfoff, like Portia, as a Daniel come to judgment, and by a littlediscreet silence gain a blue halo as a woman of deep research andprofound reading. Just the contrary is true. I am not a very greatreader on any subject, and certainly not on theology and kindredtopics. The fact is I am largely indebted to my father. He isinterested in the subjects and takes pains to explain much to me thatwould require study; and since mother died he has come to talk to mevery much as he did to her. But it seems to me that all I have said isvery simple and plain, and you surely know that my motive was not toair the little instruction I have received. "

Gregory's policy forsook him as he saw her expression ofdisappointment; and as he looked at her flushed and to him now lovelyface, acting upon a sudden impulse he asked, "Won't you please tell meyour motive?"

His manner and tone convinced her in a moment that he was more movedand interested than she had thought, and answering with a like impulseon her part, she said, frankly, "Mr. Gregory, pardon me for saying it, but from the very first day of your visit it seemed clear to me thatyou were not living and feeling as those who once made this your homecould wish, and the thought was impressed upon me, impressed strongly, that perhaps God had sent you in your feeble health and sadness (foryou evidently were depressed in mind also), to this place of old andholy memories, that you might learn something better than this world'sphilosophy. I have hoped and prayed that I might be able to help you. But when to-day, " she continued, turning away her head to hide therising tears, "I showed such miserable weakness, I felt that you wouldnever listen to me again on such subjects, and would doubt more thanever their reality, and it made me very unhappy. I feel grateful thatyou have listened to me so patiently. I hope you won't let my weaknesshurt my cause. Now you see what a frank, guileless conspirator I am, "she added, trying to smile at him through her tears. 

While she spoke Gregory bent upon her a look that tried to search hersoul. But the suspicious man of the world could not doubt her perfectsincerity. Her looks and words disclosed her thought as a crystalstream reveals a white pebble over which it flows. He stepped forwardand took her hand with a pressure that caused it pain for hours after, but he trusted himself to say only, "You are my good angel, MissWalton. Now I understand your influence over me, " and then abruptlyleft the room. 

But he did not understand her influence. A man seldom does when hefirst meets the woman whose words, glances, and presence have thesubtle power to fill his thoughts, quicken his pulse, stir his soul, and awaken his whole nature into new life. He usually passes through aluminous haze of congeniality, friendship, Platonic affinity, or evenbrotherly regard, till something suddenly clears up the mist and hefinds, like the first man, lonely in Eden, that there is but one womanfor him in all the world. 

Gregory was in the midst of the cloud, but it seemed very brightaround him as he paced his room excitedly. 

CHAPTER XXIII

GREGORY'S FINAL CONCLUSION IN REGARD TO MISS WALTON

Annie Walton was now no longer an enigma to Gregory. He had changedhis views several times in regard to her. First, she was acommonplace, useful member of the community, in a small way, and partof the furniture of a well-ordered country-house--plain furniture too, he had said to himself. But one evening in her company had convincedhim that such a Miss Walton was a fiction of his own mind, and he whohad come to regard average society girls as a weariness beyondendurance was interested in her immediately. 

Then her truth and unselfishness, and the strong religious element inher character, had been a constant rebuke to him, but he had soothedhimself with the theory that she differed from others only in beinguntempted. He then had resolved to amuse himself, ease his conscience, and feed his old grudge against her sex, by teaching the little saintthat she was only a weak, vain creature. Yet she had sustained notonly his temptations, but another ordeal, so searching and terriblethat it transformed her into a heroine, a being of superior clay tothat of ordinary mortals. "It's her nature to be good, mine to bebad, " he had said; "I'm a weed, she is a flower. " But Annie herselfhad rudely dispelled this illusion. 

Now he saw her to be a woman who might, did she yield to the evilwithin her and without, show all the vanity, weakness, and follygenerally, of which he had at first believed her capable, but who, byprayer and effort, daily achieved victories over herself. In addition, she had manifested the most beautiful and God-like trait that canennoble human character--the desire to save and sweeten others' lives. To have been lectured and talked to on the subject of religion in anyconventional way by one outside of his sympathies would have been asrepulsive as useless, but Annie had the tact to make her effort appearlike angelic ministry. 

There is that about every truly refined woman with a large lovingheart which is irresistible. The two qualities combined give a winninggrace that is an "open sesame" everywhere. The trouble is that cultureand polish are too often the sheen of an icicle. 

He believed he saw just her attitude toward him. It reminded him ofMiss Bently's efforts in his behalf, but with the contrast thatexisted between Miss Bently and Annie. He now wondered that he couldhave been interested in such a vain, shallow creature as Mrs. Grobbhad proved herself, and he excused himself on the ground that he hadidealized her into something that she was not. All that Annie said anddid had the solidity of truth, and not the hollowness of affectation. And yet there was one thing that troubled him. While her effort tohelp him out of his morbid, unhappy state was so sincere, she showedno special personal interest in himself, such as he had in her. If heshould now go away, she would place him merely in the outer circle ofher friends or acquaintance, and make good the old saying, "Out ofsight, out of mind. " But already the conviction was growing strongthat it would be long before she would be out of his mind. Though hehad plenty of pride, as we have seen, he was not conceited, and fromlong familiarity with society could readily detect the differencebetween the regard she would feel for a man personally attractive andthe interest of aroused sympathies which she might have in any one, and which her faith and nature led her to have in every one. Of coursehe was not satisfied with the latter, and it was becoming one of hisdearest hopes to awaken a personal feeling, though of just what kindhe had not yet even defined to himself. 

When the tea-bell rang, much later than usual on account of the chaosof the day, he was glad to go down. Her society was far pleasanterthan his own, and future events might make everything clearer. 

His supposition in regard to Johnny was correct. As he descended thestairs, the boy came out of the sitting-room, holding Annie tightly bythe hand and beaming upon her like the sun after a shower, and when hefound by his plate a huge apple that had been roasted specially forhim, his cup of happiness was full and he was ready for anothershaking. If the apple once caused discord it here confirmed peace. 

The supper was as inviting as the dinner had been forbidding, indicating a change of policy in the kitchen cabinet. In fact, afterZibbie cooled off, she found that she was not ready for "the world tocome to an end" (or its equivalent, her leaving the Waltons after somany years of service and kindness). She had not yet reached the pointof abject apology, though she knew she would go down on her oldrheumatic knees rather than leave her ark of refuge and go out intothe turbulent waters of the world; still she made propitiatingovertures in the brownest of buttered toast, and a chicken salad thatmight have been served as ambrosia on Mount Olympus. Zibbie was aguileless strategist, for in the success of the supper she proved howgreat had been her malign ingenuity and deliberation in spoiling thedinner. She could never claim that it was accidental. Hannah no longerwaited as if it were a funeral occasion, and the domestic skies werefast brightening up, except in one quarter: Mr. Walton's chair wasvacant, and Gregory noticed that Annie often looked wistfully andsadly toward it. 

With the sensitiveness of one who habitually hid his deeper feelingfrom the world, Gregory tried to act as if his last conversation withAnnie had been upon the weather; and as might be expected of refinedpeople, no allusion was made to the unpleasant features of the day. Neither then nor afterward was a word adverse to the Camdens spoken. They had been guests, and that was enough for the Waltons' nice senseof courtesy. Only Susie, with a little sigh of relief, gave expressionto the general feeling by saying, "Somehow I feel kind of light to-night. I felt dreadfully heavy this morning. "

Annie, with a smile on her lips and something like a tear in her eye, noticed the child's remark by adding, "I think we should all feellight if grandpa were only here. "

After supper she sung to the children and told them a bedtime story, and then with a kiss of peace sent them off to their dream-wanderings. 

During Annie's absence from the parlor, Gregory remained in his room. He was in no mood to talk with any one else. Even Miss Eulie's gentlepatter of words would fall with a sting of pain. 

When Annie came down to the parlor she said, "Now, Mr. Gregory, I willsing as much as you wish, to make up for last evening. Indeed I mustdo something to get through the hours till father's return, for I feelso anxious and self-reproachful about him. "

"And so make happiness for others out of your pain, " said he. "Whydon't you complain and fret all the evening and make it uncomfortablegenerally?"

"I have done enough of that for one day. What will you have?"

An impulse prompted him to say "You, " but he only said, "Your ownchoice, " and walked softly up and down the room while she sung, now aballad, now a hymn, and again a simple air from an opera, but nothinglight or gay. 

He was taking a dangerous course for his own peace. As we have seen, Annie's voice was not one to win special admiration. It was notbrilliant and highly cultivated, and had no very great compass. Shecould not produce any of the remarkable effects of the trainedvocalist. But it was exceedingly sweet in the low, minor notes. It wassympathetic, and so colored by the sentiment of the words that shemade a beautiful language of song. It was a voice that stole into theheart, and kept vibrating there long hours after, like an Aeolian harpjust breathed upon by a dying zephyr. 

As was often the case, she forgot her auditor, and began to revealherself in this mode of expression so natural to her, and to sing asshe did long evenings when alone. At times her tones would betremulous with pathos and feeling, and again strong and hopeful. Then, as if remembering the great joy that soon would be hers in welcomingback her absent lover, it grew as tender and alluring as a thrush'scall to its mate. 

 "O'er the land and o'er the sea Swiftly fly my thoughts to thee; Haste thee and come back to me: I'm waiting. 

 "Thou away, how sad my song! When alone, the days are long; Soon thou'lt know how glad and strong My welcome. 

 "Haste thee, then, o'er sea and land: Quickly join our loving band, Waiting here to clasp thy hand In greeting. "

"Indeed, Miss Walton, " said Gregory, leaning upon the piano, "thatwould bring me from the antipodes. "

She did not like his tone and manner, and also became conscious thatin her choice of a ballad she had expressed thoughts that were not forhim; so she tried to turn the matter lightly off by saying, "Where youprobably were in your thoughts. What have you been thinking about allthis long time while I have fallen into the old habit of talking tomyself over the piano?"

"You, I might say; but I should add, in truth, what you have said tome this evening. "

"I hope only the latter. "

"Chiefly, I've been enjoying your singing. You have a very peculiarvoice. You don't 'execute' or 'render' anything, any more than a birddoes. I believe they have been your music teachers. "

"Crows abound in our woods, " she answered, laughing. 

"So do robins and thrushes. "

Her face suddenly had an absent look as if she did not hear him. Itwas turned from the light, or the rich color that was mantling itwould have puzzled him, and might have inspired hope. With someabruptness and yet hesitation, such as is often noted when a delicatesubject is broached, she said, "Mr. Gregory, I wish I could make peacebetween you and Mr. Hunting. I think you are not friendly. "

As she looked to see the effect of her remark the light shone on hisface, and she was again deeply pained to see how instantly itdarkened. For a moment he did not reply; then in a cold, constrainedvoice, he said, "He is a friend of the family, I suppose. "

"Yes, " she replied, eagerly. 

"I too would like to be regarded as a friend, and especially to you;so I ask it as a great personal favor that you will not mention thatgentleman's name again during the brief remnant of my visit. "

"Do you mean any imputation against him?" she asked, hotly. 

Policy whispered, "Don't offend her. Hunting may be a near relation;"so he said, quietly, "Gentlemen may have difficulties concerning whichthey do not like to speak. I have made no imputation against himwhatever, but I entreat you to grant my request. "

Annie was not satisfied, but sat still with knit brows. At that momentshe heard her father's step and ran joyfully to meet him. He had comehome chilled from a long ride in the raw wind, and she spent the restof the evening in remorseful ministrations to his comfort. As sheflitted around him, served his tea and toast, and petted himgenerally, Gregory felt that he would ride for a night after the "WildHuntsman" to be so treated. 

He also rightly felt that Annie's manner was a little cool toward him. It was not in her frank, passionate nature to feel and act the sametoward one who had just expressed such bitter hostility toward herlover. But the more he thought of it the more determined he was thatthere should be no alienation between them on account of Hunting. 

"Curse him!" he muttered, "he has cost me too much already. "

He had the impression that Hunting was a relative of the family. Thathe was the accepted lover of the pure and true girl that he himselfwas unconsciously learning to love was too monstrous a thought to beentertained. Still Annie's words and manner caused him some sharppangs of jealousy, till he cast the very idea away in scorn asunworthy of both himself and her. 

"Evil as my life has been, it is white compared with his, " he said tohimself. 

In accordance with his purpose to keep the vantage-ground alreadygained, he was geniality itself, and so entertained Miss Eulie and Mr. Walton that Annie soon relented and smiled upon him as kindly as ever. She was in too humbled and softened a mood that evening to beresentful, except under great provocation, and she was really verygrateful to Gregory for his readiness to overlook her weakness andgive her credit for trying to do right. Indeed, his sincere admirationand outspoken desire for her esteem inclined her toward him, for wasshe not a woman?

"After all, " she thought, "he has said nothing against Charles. Theyhave had a quarrel, and he no doubt is the one to blame. He isnaturally very proud and resentful, and would be all the more so inthat degree that he was wrong himself. If I can help him become aChristian, making peace will be an easy affair; so I will not lose thehold that I have gained upon him. When Charles comes he will tell meall about it, and I will make him treat Gregory in such a way thatenmity cannot last. "

How omnipotent girls imagine themselves to be with those who swearthey will do anything under heaven to please them, but who usually goon in the old ways!

It was late when the family separated for the night, but later farwhen Gregory retired. The conclusion of his long revery was that inAnnie Walton existed his only chance of life and happiness. She seemedto possess the power to wake up all the man left in him, and if therewere any help in God, she only could show him how to find it. 

Thus his worldly wisdom had taught him, as many others had beentaught, to lean on a human arm for his main support and chief hope, while possibly in the uncertain future some help from heaven might beobtained. He was like a sickly plant in the shade saying to itself, "Yonder ray of sunlight would give me new life, " while it has nothought of the sun from which the ray came. He truly wished to becomea good man for his own sake as well as Annie's, for he had sufficientexperience in the ills of evil; but he did not know that a loving Goddoes not make our only chance dependent on the uncertain action andimperfect wisdom of even the best of earthly friends. The One whobegan His effort of saving man by dying for him will not afterwardneglect the work, or commit it wholly to weak human hands. 

The next morning, being that of Saturday, brought Annie many duties, and these, with callers, so occupied her time that Gregory saw butlittle of her. The shadow between them seemed to have passed away, andshe treated him with the utmost kindness. But there was a new shadowon her face that he could not understand, and after breakfast he saidto her as they were passing to the parlor, "Miss Walton, you seem outof spirits. I hope nothing painful has happened. "

"Jeff found my lost letter this morning, " she said, "and I have beendeservedly punished anew, for it brought me unpleasant tidings;" andshe hastily left the room, as if not wishing to speak further on thematter. 

It had indeed inflicted a heavy disappointment, for it was fromHunting, stating that business would detain him some days longer inEurope. But she had accepted it with resignation, and felt that it wasbut a light penalty for all her folly of the two preceding days. 

Gregory was not a little curious about it, for he was interested nowin everything connected with her; but as she did not speak of itagain, good taste required that he should not. An uncomfortablethought of Hunting as the possible writer crossed his mind, but hedrove it from him with something like rage. 

As Gregory sat brooding by his fire, waiting till the sun should growhigher before starting for a walk, Jeff came up with an armful ofwood, and seemed bubbling over with something. He, too, had sufferedsorely in the storm he had helped to raise the preceding day, and hadtremblingly eaten such dinner as the irate Zibbie had tossed on thetable for him, as a man might lunch in the vicinity of a bombshell. Heseemed to relieve himself by saying, with his characteristic grin, ashe replenished the fire, "It was dreadful 'pestuous yesterday, but dewinds is gone down. I'se glad dat ole hen is done for, but she hatch aheap ob trouble on her las' day. "

Jeff belonged to that large school of modern philosophers who explainthe evils of the day on very superficial grounds. The human heart isall right. It's only "dat ole hen" or unfavorable circumstances ofsome kind, that do the mischief. 

CHAPTER XXIV

"THE WORM-INFESTED CHESTNUT"--GREGORY TELLS THE WORST

In his solitary ramble, Gregory again thought long and deeply over thesituation. The impression was growing strong that the supreme hour ofhis life, which would decide his destiny for good or evil, was fastapproaching. For years previously he had given up the struggle againstthe latter, and had sunk deep in moral apathy, making greater effortto doubt everything concerning God than to believe. Then he had losteven his earthly ambition, and become mere driftwood on the tide oftime. But a sweet, true woman was doing a work for him like that ofElsie for Prince Henry in the Golden Legend. A consciousness of powerto take up his burden again and be a man among men was coming back, and old Daddy Tuggar's words were growing into a hope-inspiringprophecy: "She could take the wickedest man livin' to heaven, if she'dstay right by him. "

And yet his self-distrust was painfully and dangerously great, and hefeared that when Annie came to know the worst about him, and how hehad plotted against her, she would shrink from him. If she despairedof him he would despair of himself. He was certain that he could notwin even an intimate congenial acquaintance, much less a more tenderregard, unless he became a true, good man, worthy of her confidence. He could not become such by commencing in deception--by hiding thepast, and trying to appear what he was not. For in the first place shewould certainly find him out and despise him, and in the second placehis own nature now revolted at anything false in his relations withher. After long anxious thought, he concluded that the only safe, aswell as the only honorable, course was perfect frankness. If he beganwrong, the end would be disastrous. He was no longer subject toschool-boy impulses, but was a mature and thoughtful man, and hadtrained himself in business to look far and keenly into theconsequences of present action. He saw in this Walton blood an intenseantipathy to deceit. His own nature was averse to it also, and hisexperience with Hunting had made it doubly hateful. His pride revoltedat it, for his lack of hypocrisy had been the one ground of self-respect that remained in him. If in his folly and wickedness he hadblotted out the possibility of a happy future, he must endure theterrible truth as he could. To try to steal into heaven, earthly orcelestial, by the back door of specious seeming, only to be discoveredin his true character and cast out with greater ignominy, was a courseas revolting as foolish. Annie knew him to be a man of the world, withsceptical tendencies, but to her guileless nature and inexperiencethis might not mean anything very bad. In the secret of his own soul, however, he had to meet these terrible questions:

"Can God receive and pardon a willing unbeliever, a man who has sinnedagainst the clearest light, a gambler, a libertine, an embodiment ofselfishness? Can it be that Annie Walton will ever receive evenfriendship from one so stained, knowing the additional fact that Iplotted against her and sought for my own senseless gratification toprove that she was a weak, vain woman, who would be no better thanmyself if tempted in like manner? It is true that I never betrayedinnocence or wronged a man out of a dollar. It is true that in thecode of the world I have done nothing to lose my character as agentleman, and even my design upon Miss Walton would pass as aharmless flirtation in society; but the code of the world has no forcein her pure mind, and the license it permits is an insult to the lawof God. And now it is not with the world, but with her and Heaven thatI have to deal. Things at which society shrugs its shouldersindifferently are to them crimes, and black ones too. I might as wellseek her love with a felon's indictment hanging over me as to seek ithiding my past life. When she came to find me out she would feel thatI had wronged her unutterably, and confidence, the only basis oflasting esteem, would be gone. 

"Deep in my heart I have never doubted my mother's faith. When Iimagined I did I was self-deceived. Everything here confirms it, andMiss Walton more than all. I will consult the divine oracle. She shallbe the fair vestal, the gentle priestess. She lives near to heaven, and knows its mind. If her kind and womanly nature shrinks from me, ifshe coldly draws her skirts aside that I pollute them not even with atouch--if she by word or even manner proves that she sees animpassable gulf between us--then she need waste no breath in homiliesover repentance and in saying that God can receive those whom mancannot. I'll not even listen, but go back to the city and meet myfate. If imperfect human creatures cannot forgive each other--if Ihave gone so far beyond the mercy of a tender-hearted woman--then Ineed look for nothing from a just and holy God. It's mockery for goodpeople, with horror and disgust slightly veiled upon their faces, totell poor wretches that God will receive them and love them, whilethey would no more take them into their confidence and esteem thanthey would a pestilence. It's like people saying to one in the laststage of consumption, 'I hope you will be better soon. ' They don'thope or expect any such thing. The Bible is said to teach that a mancan sin away his day of grace. I had about believed that I had sinnedaway mine. This genuine, honest Christian girl has made me thinkdifferently. She has inspired the strong hope that she could lead meto become a good man--even a Christian. She shall either fulfil thathope or show it to be false. "

Such was the outline of his thoughts that long day, during which hopeand fear balanced an even scale. But the evening shadows found fearpredominating. His awakened conscience and his recent contact withtrue moral standards revealed him to himself in darker and stilldarker shadow. At times he was almost ready to despair, to bid hisentertainers a courteous farewell on Monday, and go back to the cityas he came, with the additional wretchedness of having seen the heavenhe could not enter. 

But when he came down to supper, Annie smiled so sweetly and looked sogentle and kind, that he thought, "She does not seem one to push awretch over a precipice. That warm little hand that charmed away myheadache so gently cannot write Dante's inscription over my 'Inferno, 'and bid me enter it as 'my own place'; and yet I dread her sense ofjustice. "

In his anxiety and perturbation of mind he was unusually grave andsilent during the meal and evening. Annie exulted secretly over him. 

"He is thinking in earnest now. His old apathy and trifling manner aregone. "

He was indeed thinking in terrible earnest. Her effort had awakened noschool-girl interest and penitence that she could soothe and reward byquoting a few sweet promises, but had aroused a spirit like that whichcame down from the hills of Gadara, and which no man could bind. 

Men and women in good society may be very polished and refined, andyet their souls in God's sight and their own be shameful, "naked, "wearing no robe of righteousness, bound by no laws of purity andright, and "always, night and day, crying and cutting" themselves inthe unrest of remorse. Sad and yet true it was that the demon-possessed man, the terror of the Gadarenes, was but too true a type ofthe gentlemanly and elegant Walter Gregory, as he sat that night in atorment of dread and hope at the peaceful fireside of a Christianfamily. If his fears were realized--if Annie turned from him when herevealed his true self to her--there seemed to him every probabilitythat evil evermore would be his master. While she was innocentlyhoping and praying that her words and influence might lead him to readhis Bible, go to church, and eventually find his way into the "greenpastures beside the still waters, " it seemed that within a few hoursshe would either avert or complete that most awful of tragedies--theloss of a soul. 

He accompanied them to church the following morning, and his mannerwas grave even to solemnity. Little wonder. In a certain sense, inview of his resolution, the Judgment Day had come to him. 

With heavy, contracted brows he listened to a sermon anything butreassuring. The good old minister inclined to a legal and doctrinalgospel, and to-day his subject was the perfection and searchingcharacter of the divine law. He showed how God could make no termswith sin--that he hated it with a terrible and vindictive hatred, because in all respects it was opposite and antagonistic to Hisnature--because it defiled, degraded, and destroyed. He traced allhuman wretchedness to this poisonous root, and Gregory trembled andhis face grew dark with despair as he realized how it was inwoven withevery fibre of his heart. Then in simple but strong language thesilver-haired old man, who seemed a type of the ancient prophets, portrayed the great white throne of God's justice, snowy, too dazzlingfor human eyes, and the conscience-stricken man shrunk and cowered. 

He turned to Annie to see how this train of thought, so terrific tohim, affected her. Not a trace of fear was upon her face, but onlyserene, reverent awe. He glanced at Mr. Walton, but the old magistratesat in his place, calm and dignified, evidently approving the actionof the greater Judge. Miss Eulie's face, as seen between himself andthe light of the window, appeared spirit-like. 

"Thus they will look on the Judgment Day, " thought Gregory, "while Itremble even at its picture. O the vital difference between guilt andinnocence, between faith and unbelief!"

If the venerable clergyman had been talking personally to Gregory orany sinful creature, he would not have concluded his subject where hedid. He would have shown how between the throne of justice and thesinner there stood an Advocate, an Intercessor, a Saviour. But havinglogically developed his text, he finished his discourse. Perhaps onthe following Sabbath he might present the mercy of God with equalclearness. But the sermon of the day, standing alone and confirmingthe threatenings of an accusing conscience, depressed Gregory greatly. It did not anger him, as such truth usually did. He was too weak anddespairing. He now felt the hopelessness and folly of opposition. Theidea of getting into a passion with fate! Only weak natures fume atthe inevitable. There is a certain dignity in silent, passive despair. 

Annie's voice singing the closing hymn beside him sounded like anangel's voice across the "great gulf. " Almost mechanically he walkeddown the aisle out into the sunny noon of a warm October day. Birdswere twittering around the porch. Fall insects filled the air withtheir cheery chirpings. The bay of a dog, the shrill crowing of acock, came softened across the fields from a neighboring farm. Cow-bells tinkled faintly in the distance, and two children were seenromping on a hillside, flitting here and there like butterflies. Thetrees were in gala dress of crimson and gold, and even the mountainsveiled their stern grandeur in a purple haze, through which the sun'srays shimmered with genial but not oppressive warmth. 

The people lingered around the door, shaking hands and greeting oneanother with the plain but cordial courtesy of the country. Gregoryheard one russet-apple-faced man say that "Betsy was better, " and anold colored woman, with a visage like that apple in black and mottleddecay, said in cheerful tones that "little Sampson was gittin' rightpeart. " A great raw-boned farmer asked a half-grown boy, "How's yermare?" and the boy replied that the animal was better also. All seemedbetter that bright day, and from a group near came the expression, "Crops were good this year. " While the wealthier and more culturedmembers of the congregation had kindly nods and smiles for all, theynaturally drew together, and there seemed a little flutter ofexcitement over the renewal of the sewing society that had beendiscontinued during the summer. 

Gregory stood apart from all this, with the heavy contraction stillupon his brow, and asked himself, "What have these simple, cheery, commonplace people, with their petty earth-born cares and interests, to do with that 'great white throne' of which we have just heard? andwhere in this soft, dreamy landscape, so suggestive of peace, rest, and everyday life, lurks any hint of the 'wrath of a just and holyGod'?"

And then the old pastor, who a little before had seemed a prototype ofJohn, the stern reformer from the wilderness, came out smiling andbenignant, greeting his flock as a father might his children. The veryhand that had been raised in denunciation, and in threatening a doomthat would appall the heart of courage itself, was given to Gregory ina warm and cordial grasp. The man he had trembled before now seemedthe personification of sweet-tempered human kindness. The contrast wasso sharp that it seemed to Gregory that either what he saw or what hehad heard must be an utter delusion. 

As they were driving home, he suddenly broke the moody silence byasking Miss Walton, "How do you reconcile the scene at the churchdoor, so matter-of-fact, cheery, and earthly, with the terriblepictures suggested by the sermon? If such things are before us, itseems to me that bright, sunny days like these are mockery. "

She looked at him wistfully. The sermon had not been what she wouldhave wished, but she trusted it would do him good by cutting awayevery hope based on anything in himself or in vague general ideas ofGod's indiscriminate mercy. She answered gently, "The contrast wasindeed great, now I think of it, and yet each scene was matter-of-factto me in the sense of being real. Besides, that one which our pastordescribed was a court of justice. I shall have an Advocate there whowill clear me. As for 'bright days, ' I believe they are just what Godmeans His people to have always. "

"Yes, " said he, gloomily, "that is your side of the question. "

"It may be yours also, " she replied, in a low tone. 

He shook his head and looked away to hide his pain. 

After a short time he again said, "Do you not think that the view ofGod which your minister gave is very depressing to the average man? Isnot His law too perfect for imperfect humanity?"

"Not at all, " she answered, eagerly; but before she could say more, Mr. Walton, unaware of the subject occupying them, turned from thefront seat and introduced another topic. 

After dinner, Gregory went to his room, which he restlessly paced. 

"Even her creed, her faith, as well as her purity and truth, raises awall as high as heaven between us, " he exclaimed, bitterly. "She hasonly to see me as God sees, to shrink away appalled, disgusted. Well, she shall, " he muttered, grinding his teeth; "I shall not add theworst torment of all to my perdition by deceiving her. "

As he came down stairs, Annie had just finished reading to thechildren, and he said, "Miss Walton, will your ideas of Sabbath-keeping prevent you from taking a stroll in the garden with me?"

"Not at all, " she replied, smiling. "A garden is a good place to keepSunday in. "

He walked silently at her side across the lawn down a shady walk. Annie hoped much from this interview, and sent a swift, earnest prayerto Heaven that she might speak wisely. She feared that his dejectionwould pass into discouragement and despair. She saw that he was muchdepressed, and judged correctly that it was because he had seen onlyone side of a great truth. She hoped to cheer and inspire him with theother side. Moreover, her religion was very simple. It was onlybecoming God's friend, instead of remaining indifferent or hostile. Toher, no matter what the burden, it was simply leading the heavy-ladento the strong Divine Friend as people were brought to Him of old, andestablishing the personal relations of love, faith, and following. 

But she did not realize the desperate nature or the complications ofGregory's moral infirmity. Still she was a safe adviser, for she didnot propose to cure him herself. She wished to rally and cheer him, toinspire hope, and to turn his eyes from sin to the Saviour, so shesaid, "Mr. Gregory, why do you look as if marching to execution?"

"Perhaps because I feel as if I were, " he said. 

Just then a variegated leaf parted from a spray overhanging the pathsomewhat in advance of them, and fluttered to their feet. 

"Poor little leaf!" said Gregory, picking it up, "your bright colorswill soon be lost. Death has come to you too. Why must this wretchedthought of death be thrust on one at every turn? Nature is full of it. Things only live, apparently, for the sake of dying. Just as this leafbecomes most beautiful it drops. What a miserable world this is, withdeath making havoc everywhere! Then your theology exaggerates the evila thousand-fold. If a man must die, let him die and cease to be. Butyour minister spoke to-day of a living death, in which one only existsto suffer. What a misfortune to have existed!"

As Gregory gloomily uttered these bitter words, they stood looking atthe leaf that had suggested them. Annie's face brightened with asudden thought. She turned, and after a few rapid steps sprung lightlyup and caught the twig from which the leaf had fallen. Then turning toher companion, who regarded with surprise and admiration the agilegrace of the act, she said, "Mr. Gregory, you need lessons in logic. If the leaf you hold is your theme, as you gave me reason to believe, you don't stick to it, and you draw from it conclusions that don'tfollow the premise. Another thing, it is not right to develop asubject without regard to its connection. Now from just this place, "she continued, pointing with her finger, "the leaf dropped. What doyou see? What was its connection?"

"Why, a little branch full of other leaves. These would soon havedropped off and died also, if you had not hastened their fate. "

"That's a superficial view, like the one you just took of this'miserable world, ' as you call it. I think it is a very good world--amuch better one than we deserve. And now look closely and justly atyour theme's connection, and tell me what you see. Look just here;"and her finger rested on the little green spot where the stem of theleaf had joined the spray. 

"I see a very small bud, " he said, intelligence of her meaning dawningin his face. 

"Which will develop next spring into other leaves and perhaps into anew branch. All summer long your leaf has rustled and flutteredjoyously over the certainty that a richer and fuller life would comeafter it, a life that it was providing for through the sunny days anddewy nights. There is no death here, only change for the better. Andso with everything that has bloomed and flourished in this gardenduring the past season, provision has been made for new and moreabundant life. All these bright but falling leaves and fading flowersare merely Nature's robes, ornaments that she is throwing carelesslyaside as she withdraws for a little time from her regal state. Waittill she appears again next spring, as young, fresh, and beautiful aswhen, like Eve, she saw her first bright morning. Come and see herupon her throne next June. Nature full of death! Why, Mr. Gregory, shespeaks of nothing but life to those who understand her language. "

"O that you would teach it to me!" he said, with a deeper meaning thanshe detected. 

"Again, " she continued, "our theology does not represent death asmaking havoc anywhere. It is sin that makes the havoc, and death isonly one of its consequences. And even this enemy God compels to workfor the good of His friends. Do not think, " she continued, coming astep nearer in her earnestness, "that I make such allusions to painyou, but only in my sincere wish to help you, and illustrate mymeaning by something you know so well. Did death make havoc in yourmother's case? Was it not rather a sombre-liveried janitor that openedfor her the gates of heaven?"

He was deeply touched, and turned away his face. After a moment hecontinued his walk, that they might get further away from the houseand the danger of interruption. 

He suddenly startled Annie by saying, in a tone of harsh and intensebitterness, "Her death made 'havoc' for me. If she had lived I mighthave been a good man instead of the wretch I am. If death as janitoropens the gates of heaven, your religion teaches that it also opensthe gates of hell. How can I love a God who shuts up the sinful in aninferno--in dungeons of many and varied tortures, and racks themforever? Can I, just to escape all this, pretend that I love Him, whenin truth I fear and dread Him unspeakably? No, I'll never be ahypocrite. "

Tears glistened in Annie's eyes as he turned to look at her. 

"You pity me, " he said, more gently. "Your God does not. If He wantedto be loved He should never have revealed a hell. "

"Should He not in mercy, if it really existed? And does it not exist?Will merely a beautiful place make heaven for anybody? Mr. Gregory, look around this lovely autumn evening. See the crimson glory of thoseclouds yonder in the west. See that brightness shading off into palerand more exquisite tints. Look, how those many-hued leaves reflect theglowing sky. The air is as sweet and balmy as that of Eden could havebeen. The landscape is beautiful in itself, and especially attractiveto you. To our human eyes it hardly seems as if heaven could be moreperfect than this. And yet, standing in the one spot of all the earthmost beautiful to you, Mr. Gregory, pardon me for saying it, your faceexpresses nothing but pain. There is not a trace of happiness in it. You were not happy when you came here. I saw that the first day. Allthe pleasant surroundings of your own home have not made you happy. Have they given you even peace and quiet? Place does not make heaven, but something we carry in our own bosoms, " she concluded, leaving himto supply the rest of her thought. 

His face was white with fear, and there was terror in his tone as heturned and said to her, in a low voice, "Miss Walton, that is what Ihave been coming to see and dread, of late, and as you put thethoughts into words I see that it is true. I carry perdition in my ownheart. When I am alone my imaginings frighten me; and when withothers, impulses arise to do the devil's own work. "

"But it is the nature of God to save from all this. I am so sorry thatyou do not understand Him better. "

"He saves some, " said Gregory, gloomily. 

"But many will not let Him save them, " urged Annie. 

"I should be only too glad to have Him save me, but whether He will ornot is the point at issue, and my hope is very faint. Everything to-day, but you, seems to confirm my fate. Miss Walton, won't you takethat little rustic seat there by the brook? I wish to tell yousomething that will probably settle this question. "

Annie wonderingly complied. This was an experience she had never hadbefore. She was rapidly realizing the difference between being thespiritual guide of the girls in her Bible-class and being the adviserof this strong-minded yet greatly perverted man. But she turned to hima face full of sympathy and encouragement. 

For a moment it seemed he did not know how to begin, and he pacedrestlessly up and down before her. Then he said, "Miss Walton, youremember that worm-infested chestnut through which you gave me such ajust lesson?"

"Please do not speak of my foolish words at that time, " she replied, eagerly. 

"Pardon me, they were not foolish. They, with the illustration of myown choice, revealed me to myself as nothing had ever done before. Hadit not been for your graceful tact, I should have made a fool ofmyself by being angry. If you had known what I deserved then you wouldnot have let me off so easily. But it's true. That lonely, selfishchestnut, with a worm in its kernel, was a good emblem of myself. Evilis throned in my heart supreme and malignant. I suppose it's throughmy own fault, but be that as it may, it's there, my master. I groanover and curse the fact, but I do evil and think evil continually, andI fear I always shall. 

"No, listen to me to the end, " he continued, as she was about tospeak. 

"When on that strange mountain expedition, you made the remark, 'Whatcongenial friends we might be!' Those words have echoed in my heartever since, like the refrain of a home-song to a captive. I would givemore than I can express for your friendship--for the privilege ofseeing you and speaking to you frankly on these subjects occasionally, for you and you only have inspired a faint hope that I might become abetter man. You are making Christianity seem a reality and not afashion. Though possessing human weakness, you triumph over it, andyou say it is through prayer to God. I find it impossible not tobelieve everything you say, for whatever your faults are you are truthitself. Through your influence the thought has come that God mightalso hear and help me, but I have the fear and almost the belief thatI have placed myself beyond His mercy. At any rate I have almost losthope in anything I can do by myself. I was in moral despair when Icame here, and might as well have been dead, but you have led me to awillingness to make one more struggle, and a great one, if I can seein it any chance of success. I fear I am deceiving myself, but whenwith you, though you are immeasurably better than I, hope steals intomy heart, that before was paralyzed by despair. When you come to knowme as I know myself, I fear that you will shrink in just horror away, and that I shall see reflected in your face the verdict of heaven. Butyou shall know the worst--the very worst. I can never use deceit withyou. If afterward you ever take my stained hand again--"

He did not finish the sentence, but heaved a great sigh, as if oflonging and hope that words could not utter. 

It was the old truth illustrated, that God must become human to gainhumanity. Abstract truth could not save this lost and guilty man, butthe wanderer hoped that in this sweet human life he had found the clewback to the divine life. 

Annie trembled at the responsibility that now suddenly burdened her asshe saw this trembling spirit clinging to her as the one frail barrierbetween himself and the gulf of utter despair. She nerved herself, byprayer and the exertion of all her will, to be equal to the emergency. 

And yet it was a fearful ordeal that she was called to go through asthe remorseful and deeply agitated man, his face flushed with shame, now with impassioned, more often with despairing gesture and accent, poured out the story of his past life, and laid bare his evil heart, while he paced up and down the little walk before her. 

The transaction with Hunting he purposely passed over, speaking of itmerely as a business misfortune that had robbed him even of earthlyambition. She saw a few sin-stained pages of that dreadful book ofhuman guilt which God must look at every day. 

Gregory did not spare himself, and palliated nothing, softening andbrightening no harsh and dark lines. On the contrary, he was stern andblunt, and it was strange indeed to hear him charging himself before apure, innocent young girl, whose good opinion was life to him, withwhat she regarded as crimes. When he at last came to speak of hisdesigns against herself, of how he had purposed to take the bloom andbeauty from her character that he might laugh at goodness as a dreamand pretence, and despise her as he did himself, his eye flashedangrily, and he grew vindictive as if denouncing an object of hishate. He could not even look at her during the last of his confession, but turned away his face, fearing to see Annie's expression ofaversion and disgust. 

It was with a paling cheek and growing dread that she looked into thatdark and fearful place, a perverted human heart, and her every breathwas a prayer that God would enable her to see and act as Christ wouldwere some poor creature revealing to Him his desperate need. 

Gregory suddenly paused in his low but passionate flow of words, andput his hand to his head as if the pain were insupportable. In fact, his anguish and the intense feeling of the day had again brought onone of his old nervous headaches. Thus far he had scarcely noticed it, but now the sharp, quivering pangs proved how a wronged physicalnature could retaliate; how much more the higher and more delicatemoral nature!

After the paroxysm had passed, he continued, in the hard, weary toneof utter dejection (for he had dreaded even to look at Annie, and hersilence confirmed his worst fears), "Well, Miss Walton, you now knowthe worst. On this peaceful Sabbath evening you have seen more ofperdition than you ever will again. You cannot even speak to me, and Idare not look at your face. The expression of horror and disgust whichI know must be there would blast me and haunt me forever. It would beworse than death, for I did have a faint hope--"

He was interrupted by an audible sob, and turning, saw Annie with herface buried in her hands, weeping as if her heart would break. He waspuzzled for a moment, and then, in the despairing condition of hismind interpreted her wrongly. Standing near her with clenched hands, he said, in the same hard tones which seemed to have passed beyond theexpression of feeling, "I'm a brute and worse. I have been woundingyou as with blows by my vile story. I have been dragging your purethoughts through the mire of my wretched life. "

Annie tried to speak, but apparently could not for excess of emotion. 

"Why could I not have gone away and died by myself, like some uncleanbeast?" he muttered. Then, in a tone which she never forgot, and withthe manner of one who was indeed leaving hope and life behind him, hesaid, "Farewell, Miss Walton; you will be better after I am gone. "

She sprung up, and laying restraining hands upon his arm, sobbed, "No--no. Why don't you--you--understand me? My heart's--breaking for you--waittill I can speak. "

He placed her gently on the seat again. A great light was coming intohis eyes, and he stood bending toward her as if existence depended onher next words. Could it be that her swelling throat and sobs meantsympathy for him?

She soon controlled herself, and looking up at him, with a light inher eyes that shone through her tears as sun-rays through the rain, said, "Forgive me. I never realized before that so much sin andsuffering could exist in one unhappy life. I do pity you, as God doesfar more. I will help you as He will. "

Gregory knelt at her feet, and kissed her hand with the fervor of acaptive who had just received life and liberty. 

"See, I do not shrink from you, " she continued. "My Master would not. Why should I? He came to save just such, and just such we all would bebut for His grace and shielding. I'm so--sorry for you. "

He turned hastily away for a moment to hide his feelings, and said, slowly, "I cannot trust myself--I cannot trust God yet; but I trustyou, and I believe you have saved a soul from death. "

He stood looking toward the glowing west, and, for the first time inyears, hoped that his life might close in brightness. 

"Mr. Gregory, " said Annie, in a voice so changed that he started andturned toward her hardly knowing what to expect. She stood beside him, no longer a tender, compassionate woman grieving for him, as if hissin were only misfortune, but her face was almost stern in its purityand earnestness. "Mr. Gregory, the mercy which God shows, and which Ifaintly reflect, is for _you_ in sharp distinction from your sin. Donot for a moment think that I can look with any lenience or indulgenceon all the horrible evil you have laid before me. Do not think I canexcuse or pass lightly over it as something of little consequence. Ihate your sin as I hate my own. I can honestly feel and frankly showthe sympathy I have manifested, only in view of your penitence, andyour sincere purpose, with God's help, to root out the evil of yourlife. This I am daily trying to do, and this you must do in the oneand only way in which there is any use in trying. It is only with thisclear understanding that I can give you my hand in the friendship ofmutual helpfulness, and in the confidence of respect. "

He reverently took her hand and said, "Your conditions are just, MissWalton, and I accept your friendship as offered with a gratitudebeyond words. I can never use deceit where you are concerned, even inthought. But please do not expect too much of me. I have formed thehabit of doubting. It may be very long before I have your simple, beautiful faith. I will do just the best I can! It seems that if youwill trust me, help me, pray for me, I can succeed. If I am mistaken, I will carry my wretchedness where the sight of it will not pain you. If I ever do reach your Christian life, I will lavish a wealth ofgratitude upon you that cannot be expressed. Indeed, I will in anycase, for you have done all that I could hope and more. "

"I will do all you ask, " she said, heartily, giving at the same timehis hand a strong pressure with her warm, throbbing palm, that sent asubtle current of hope and strength into his heart. Her face softenedinto an expression of almost sisterly affection, and with a gleam ofher old mirthfulness she continued, "Take counsel of practical common-sense, Mr. Gregory. Why talk so doubtfully of success, seeking it asyou purpose to? What right have you even to imagine that God willbestow upon you the great distinction of making you the first one ofthe race He refused to hear and answer? Be humble and believe that Hewill treat you like other people. "

He stopped in their slow walk toward the house and said, with gladanimation, "Miss Walton, do you know you have done more to strengthenme in that little speech than by a long and labored argument?"

And so they passed in out of the purple twilight, Annie's heartthrilling with something of the joy of heaven, and Gregory feeling asif the dawn were coming after Egyptian night. 

As they left the garden a dusky face peered out of some thickshrubbery and looked cautiously around. Then Jeff appeared andattributed to the scene just described a very different meaning fromits real significance. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE OLD HOME IN DANGER--GREGORY RETRIEVES HIMSELF

Gregory made desperate efforts to keep up at the supper-table, butcould not prevent slight evidences of physical pain, which Anniesilently noticed. After tea he hoped to escape to his room, for hecould not endure to show even his physical weakness so soon again. Onthe contrary, he was longing intensely for an opportunity to manifesta little strength of some kind. After his recent interview he feltthat he could even bear one of his nervous headaches alone. But as hewas about to excuse himself, Annie interrupted, saying, "Now, Mr. Gregory, that is not according to agreement. Do you suppose I cannotsee that you are half beside yourself with one of your old headaches?Was I such a poor physician the last time that you seek to escape menow? Come back to the parlor. I will not go out to church thisevening, but devote myself to you. "

"Miss Walton, " he replied, in a low tone, "when can I make any returnfor all your kindness? I must seem weakness itself in every respect, and I dread to appear to you always in that light. "

"Your pride needs bringing down, sir; see how towering it is. Here youwould go off by yourself, and endure a useless martyrdom all nightperhaps, when by a few simple remedies I can relieve you, or at leasthelp you forget the pain. I have not the slightest objection to yourbeing a martyr, but I want some good to come out of it. " "But I shallspoil your evening. "

"Certainly you will, if I think of you groaning up there by yourself, while I am singing, perhaps:

 "'I love to steal awhile away From every cumbering care!'"

"Then I'm a cumbering care!"

"Whether you are or not, I'm not going to steal away from you to-night. Come, do as I bid you. "

He was only too glad to submit to her delicious tyranny. She wheeledthe lounge up to the fire, and placed her chair beside it, while therest of the family, seeing that he had his old malady, went to thesitting-room. 

"I have great pride in my nursing powers, " she continued, in hercheery way. "Now, if I were a man, I'd certainly be a doctor. "

"Thank Heaven you are not!" he said, with a devout earnestness thatquite startled her. 

"What? A doctor?" she asked, quickly. 

"Yes--no; I mean a man, and doctor too. "

"I see no reason why you should show such bitter opposition to mybeing a man or a doctor either. Why should you?"

"O--well--I think you are just right as a woman. You make me believein the doctrine of election, for it seems to me that you were destinedfrom all eternity to be just what you are. "

"What a strange, unfathomable doctrine that is!" said Annie, softlyand musingly. 

"It's nothing but mystery all around us, " he replied, wearily anddejectedly. 

"No, not 'all around us, '" she answered, quickly. "It's clear when welook up. Faith builds a safe bridge to God, and to Him there are nomysteries. "

Her touch upon his brow thrilled him, and her presence was bothexhilarating and restful. 

At last she said, "I am sorry you have these dreadful headaches sooften. "

"I shall never be again. "

"Why so?"

"Because they have led to this evening. It has been so many long, miserable years since I experienced anything like this. "

"Ah, I see, you have been very lonely. You have had no one to care foryou, and that I believe has been the cause of half your trouble--evil, I mean. Indeed, they are about the same thing. Don't you see? Theworld is too large a place for a home. You need a nook in it, withsome one there to look after you and for you to think about. "

He looked at her searchingly, and then turned away his face in pain. She could not utter such words in that placid style, were she notutterly devoid of the feeling that was filling his soul with anecstasy of hope and fear. 

"Do not think that even many of our sex are like Miss Bently. You willsee and choose more wisely hereafter, and find that, in exchangingthat wretched club-life for a cosey home of your own, you take a goodstep in all respects. "

"Would to Heaven that I had met such a girl as you at first!" heventured to say. "How different then all might have been!"

"There is no use in dwelling on the past, " she replied, innocently. "You are now pledged to make the future right. "

"God helping me, I will. I will use every means in my power, " he said, in a tone of deep earnestness; and, as principal part of the means, determined to take her advice, but with reference to herself. After afew moments he said, "Miss Walton, as I promised to be perfectly frankwith you, I want to ask an explanation of something that I do notunderstand, and which has been almost a heavenly surprise to me. I wasnearly certain before this afternoon that when you came to know what astained, evil man I am--"

"Was, " interrupted Annie. 

"No, what I am. Character is not made in a moment. As yet, I only hopeand purpose to do better. I can hardly understand why you do notshrink from me in disgust. It seemed that both your faith and yournature would lead you to do this. I thought it possible that out ofyour kindness you might try to stand at a safe distance and give mesome good advice across the gulf. But that which I feared would driveyou from me forever has only brought you nearer. Again I say, it hasbeen a heavenly surprise. "

"You use the word 'heavenly' with more appropriateness than youthink, " she replied, gravely. "All such surprises are heavenly intheir origin, and my course is but a faint reflection of Heaven'sdisposition toward you, and was prompted by the duty I owe to God aswell as to you. Self-righteousness would have led me in Pharisaicpride to say, 'Stand aside, I am holier than thou. ' But you have onlyto read the life of the perfect One to know that in so doing I shouldnot have been like Him. He laid His rescuing hands on both thephysical and the moral leper--"

"As you have upon me, " said Gregory, with a look of such intensegratitude that she was embarrassed. 

"I deserve no great credit, for it was only right that I should do theutmost in my power to help you. How else could I be a Christian in anyreal sense? But there is nothing strange about it. Christianity is notlike false religions, that require unnatural and useless sacrifices. If I were a true physician, and found you suffering from a terribleand contagious disease, while I feared and loathed the disease, Imight have the deepest sympathy for you and do my best to cure you. Ido loathe the sin you confessed, inexpressibly. See how near it cameto destroying you. While God hates the sin, He ever loves the sinful. "

"I hope you will always be divine in that respect, " he could notforbear saying, with rising color. 

But her thoughts were so intent on what was uppermost in her heartthat she did not notice his covert meaning, and said, innocently, "Iwill give you honest friendship so long as you honestly try to redeemthe pledges of to-day. "

"Then I have your friendship for life, be it long or short, " said he, decisively. 

With more lightness in her tone she continued, "And I too will ask aquestion that has a bearing on a little theory of my own. Supposing Ihad shrunk from you, and tried to give some good advice from a safedistance, what would you have done?"

"Left for New York to-morrow, and gone straight to the devil as one ofhis own imps, " he replied, without a moment's hesitation. 

She sighed deeply, and said, "I fear you would--that is, if left toyourself. And the worst of it is, it seems to me that this is the waythe Church is trying to save the world. Suppose a doctor shouldaddress his patients through a speaking-trumpet and hand them hisremedies on the end of a very long rod. Death would laugh at hisefforts. People can be saved only as Christ saved them. We must gowhere they are, lay our hands upon them, and look sympathy and hoperight into their eyes. If Christ's followers would only do this, howmany more might be rescued who now seem hopelessly given over toevil!"

"Those who won't do it, " said Gregory, bitterly, "are in no sense Histrue followers, but are merely the 'hangers on' of His army, seekingto get out of it all they can for self. Every general knows that the'camp-followers' are the bane of an army. "

"Come, Mr. Gregory, " said she, gently, "we are not the general, andtherefore not the judge. After this I shall expect to see you in theregular ranks, ready to give and take blows. "

They now joined Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie in the sitting-room, andGregory professed to feel, and indeed was, much better, and after alittle music they separated for the night. Although still suffering, Gregory sat by his fire a long time, forgetful of pain. 

High, blustering winds prevailed all the following day, but they onlymade the quiet and cosiness of Mr. Walton's fireside more delightful. Gregory did not care to go out if he went alone. He wished to be wherehe could see Annie as often as possible, for every word and smile fromher in the intervals of her duties was precious. He did honestly meanto become a good man if it were possible, but he saw in her the onlyhopeful means. He did not pretend to either faith in God or love forHim as yet, but only felt a glow of gratitude, a warming of his hearttoward Him in view of His great mercy in sending to his aid such aministering spirit as Annie had proved. He took it as an omen that Godmeant kindly by him, and through this human hand might save at last. 

And he clung to this hand as the drowning do to anything that keepsthem from sinking into dark and unknown depths. He saw in Annie Waltonearthly happiness certainly, and his best prospect of heaven. Whatwonder then that his heart lay at her feet in entire consecration?Apart from the peculiar fascination that she herself had for him, hehad motives for loving her that actuate but few. If she had saved himfrom physical death it would have been a little thing in comparison, but he shuddered to think of the precipice from which she had drawnhim back. 

He was cautious in revealing himself to her. The presence of otherswas a restraint, and he plainly saw that she had no such regard forhim as he felt for her. But he hoped with intense fervor--yes, he evenprayed to that God whom he had so long slighted--that in time shemight return his love. To-day he would close his eyes on the past andfuture. She, the sunshine of his soul, was near, and he was content tobask in her smiles. 

Annie had given her father and aunt to understand that theirconspiracy promised to result in success, and they treated him withmarked but delicate kindness. The day passed in music, reading, andconversation, and it was to Gregory the happiest he remembered--one ofthe sweet May days that, by some happy blunder of nature, occasionallybless us in March--and he made the very most of it. Its close foundAnnie Walton enthroned in his heart. 

As for Annie, he perplexed her a little, but she explained everythingpeculiar in his words and manner on the ground of his gratitude only, and the glow of his newly awakened moral nature. If she had been anexperienced belle, she might have understood his symptoms better, butshe was one of the last in the world to imagine people falling in lovewith her. Never having received much admiration from strangers, withno long list of victims, and believing from her own experience thatlove was a gradual growth resulting from long knowledge and intimacywith its object, she could not dream that this critical man, who hadseen the beauties of two continents, would in a few days be carriedaway by her plain face. Nor was he by her face, but by herself. 

Men of mind are rarely captivated by a face merely, however beautiful, but by what it represents, or what they imagine it does. Woe be to thebeauty who has no better capital than her face! With it she can alluresome one into marrying her; but if he marries for an intelligentcompanion, he is likely to prove the most disappointed and indifferentof husbands on discovering the fraud. The world will never get overits old belief that the fair face is the index of graces slightlyveiled, and ready to be revealed when the right to know is gained. Innursery rhymes, fairy tales, and the average novel, the beautifulheroine is also lovely, and so in spite of adverse experience theworld will ever expect wisdom and truth from red lips, till they saytoo much--till the red lips themselves prove the contrary. Then comethe anger and disgust which men ever visit upon those who deceive anddisappoint them. Beauty is a dainty and exquisite vestibule to atemple; but when a worshipper is beguiled into entering, only to finda stony, misshapen idol and a dingy shrine, this does not conduce tofuture devotion. 

Annie's face would not arrest passers-by, and so she had not beenspoiled by too much homage, which is not good for man or woman. Butafter passing the plain, simple portico of externals into the innertemple of her sweet and truthful life, the heart once hers wouldworship with undying faith and love. 

Gregory had come to interest her deeply, not only on the ground of hisneed, but because she saw in him great capabilities for good. In allhis evil, his downright honesty and lack of conceit inspired a kind ofrespect. She also saw that this excessively fastidious man had learnedto admire and esteem her greatly. It was not in her woman's nature tobe indifferent to this fact. She felt that if he could be redeemedfrom his evil he might become a congenial and valuable friend indeed, and if she could be the means of rescuing the son of her father'sfriend it would ever be one of her happiest memories. But with herheart already occupied by a noble ideal of Hunting, the possibility ofanything more than friendship never entered her mind. The very factthat her affections were so engaged made her blind to manifestationson the part of Gregory which might otherwise have awakened suspicion. Still the confidential relations growing up between them made her wishthat she might reveal to him her virtual engagement to Hunting; andshe would have done so, had he not resented the slightest allusion inthat direction. It now seemed probable that Hunting would returnbefore Gregory took his departure, and if so, she felt that she couldimmediately reconcile them. She came to the conclusion that her bestcourse was to wait till she could bring them together, and so make thereconciliation certain by her own presence and influence; for now, inher increasing regard for Gregory, she was determined that they allshould be on good terms, so that in the city home to which she lookedforward the man she was trying to lead to true life might be afrequent and welcome visitor. 

But it is a difficult thing to keep such friendships Platonic in theirnature under any circumstances, and in view of Gregory's feelings, Annie's pretty dreams of the future would be but baseless visions. 

Monday evening brought one of those genial domestic experiences thatmake home more satisfying in its pleasures than all the excitements ofthe world. Mr. Walton had a slight cold, and Annie was nursing andpetting him, while contributing to the general enjoyment by readingthe daily paper and singing some new ballads which she had justobtained from New York. Her father's indisposition was so slight thatit merely called for those little attentions which are pleasant foraffection to bestow and receive. The wind howled dismally without, only to enhance the sense of peace and comfort within, and at theusual hour all retired to rest, without even the passing thought thatanything might disturb them before they should meet again at thecheerful breakfast-table. 

Some time during the night Gregory seemed to hear three distinct pealsof thunder, wrathful and threatening, and then a voice like that ofAnnie Walton calling him to escape a great danger. But it seemed thathe was paralyzed, and strove in vain to move hand or foot. Again andlouder pealed the thunder, and more urgent came the call of thewarning voice. By a desperate effort he sprung with a bound upon thefloor, and then realized that what seemed thunder in the exaggerationof his dream was loud knocking at his door. Annie's voice againcalled, "Mr. Gregory, awake, dress. There is a fire. There may bedanger. "

He assured her that he would be out in a few moments, and had only toopen a shutter to obtain plenty of light, though he could not seewhence it came. In five minutes he hastened downstairs and found Mr. Walton just issuing from his room; and all went out on the frontpiazza. Gregory then saw that a large factory some distance up thestream was burning, and that the fire was under such headway thatnothing could save the building. The wind had increased during thenight and fanned the flames into terrific fury. The building was oldand dry, inviting destruction in every part. 

For a while they gazed with that fearful awe which this terribleelement, when no longer servant, but master, always inspires. Susiehad not been well during the night, and in waiting on her, Annie haddiscovered the disaster. 

A warning cough from Mr. Walton revealed to Annie the danger ofstaying out in the raw winds; but from the windows everything wasapparent, and silently they watched the rapid progress of the flames. The fire had caught in the lower part of the building, and wasadvancing up from floor to floor with its horrid illumination at thewindows. 

"Do you think I can do any good by going there?" asked Gregory. 

"Not at all, " said Mr. Walton. "The whole of the New York FireDepartment could not save it now; and from the sounds I hear, therewill soon be throngs of people there. Indeed, I am anxious about myown place. When that shingle roof begins to burn there is no tellinghow far the wind will carry the cinders. "

Annie looked at her father in quick alarm, then drew Miss Eulie aside, and they immediately went upstairs. 

With a more painful interest, Gregory now watched the scene. The tallladders which had first been raised against the building werewithdrawn. They were useless for the whole interior seemed ablaze. Great tongues of fire began leaping from the windows, mocking everyeffort. The rapid steps of those hastening to the scene resoundedalong the road, and the startling cry of "Fire! Fire!" was heard upand down the valley till all merged in the shouts and cries around theburning building. Mingling with the deeper, hoarser tones of men werethe shrill voices of women, showing that they too had been drawn towitness a destruction that meant to them loss of bread. The foliagenear was red as blood in the dreadful glare, and the neighboring pinestossed their tasselled boughs like dark plumes at a torch-lightfuneral. With a sudden roar a pyramid of flame shot up through theroof, and was echoed by a despairing cry from those whose vocation nowindeed was gone. A moment later a fiery storm of flakes and burningshingles filled the sky. 

To the great joy of our friends the wind was from such a quarter as tocarry this destructive tempest past them into the woodland back of thehouse, which happily had been rendered damp by recent rains. 

But a cinder frequently sailed by unpleasantly near, reminding one ofscattering shots in a battle. A slight change of wind would be theirdestruction, and a single stray fire-brand would endanger them. 

Just as they began to breathe somewhat freely, hoping that danger waspast, a sudden side-eddy of the gale scattered a shower of sparks andburning shingles over the house and out-buildings. Mr. Waltonimmediately rushed forth, and, with a little whistle which he usuallycarried, gave a shrill summons for Jeff, who lived in a cottage near. But Jeff was off to the fire, and so did not appear. Gregory and Anniealso hastened out, and the former ran to the barn and out-buildingsfirst, as from their nature they were most inflammable. To his and Mr. Walton's joy, no traces of fire were seen. One or two smoking brandslay in the door-yard, where they could cause no injury. But a cry ofalarm from Annie, who had stayed nearer the house, brought Mr. Waltonand Gregory to her side instantly. Pointing to the roof of theirhouse, she said, in tones of strong excitement, "See there--oh, seethere!"

A burning piece of wood had caught on the highest part near the ridge, and was smoking and smouldering in a way that, with the strong windfanning it, would surely cause destruction if it were not dislodged. 

"Oh, what shall we do?" she cried, wringing her hands. "Can a ladderreach it?"

"The roof is too steep, even if it did, " said Mr. Walton. 

"Where is the ladder?" cried Gregory. 

"By the carriage-house. But I fear it is useless. "

"Will you help me bring it, sir?"

They instantly brought the longest ladder on the place, but saw thatthough it might touch the eaves, it would not reach the ridge. Theroof was so steep that one could not keep footing on it; and when theytook time to look and consider, both gentlemen admitted that an effortin that direction would fail, and probably at the cost of life. 

"Is there no scuttle by which to get out on the roof?" asked Gregory. 

"No. Quick, Annie, get out what you can, for we shall soon behomeless. "

"Wait, " said Gregory. "Is there no way to reach the roof?"

"None that we can use. A light and daring climber might possibly reachthe ridge by the lighting-rod, after leaving the ladder. "

"Where is it?" cried Gregory, eager to do something to make impossibleeven the thought that he was cowardly; for the memory of his course inthe counterfeiter's den rankled deeply. 

"No, " cried both Mr. Walton and Annie, laying their hands on him. "Your life is worth more than the house. "

"My life is my own, " he answered. "I _will_ make an effort to save theold place. Quick, help me. Here, girls" (to Zibbie and Hannah, who nowstood beside them in dismay), "take hold of that end of the ladder andcarry it out there. Now push it up while I hold its foot. There, that's it. I will do it. You cannot hinder, but only help. MissWalton, get me a rope. Hurry, while I prepare to climb. "

With the help of the stout women, whose strength was doubled by theirfears and excitement, he placed the ladder against the lightning-rodand siding of the house just under the ridge. His tones weredetermined and authoritative. 

He was now acting as Annie would if she were a man, and she admiredand respected him as never before. In two or three moments she and herfather returned with a line, but again expostulated. 

"Mr. Gregory, the risk is too great. "

"You can't prevent it, " said he, firmly. "I absolve you from allresponsibility. I take the risk in spite of you. Make haste--see howit's burning. There, that will do. Stand back. "

Even as he spoke he was climbing. 

"Now that's generous, " said Annie; "but if you are injured, I shallnever forgive myself. "

He turned, and for a second smiled down upon her. 

The strength of his new-born love made him glad to endanger even lifein her service, and the thought, "I can at last win a little respect, as well as sympathy, " nerved him to double his ordinary powers. Likemost country boys, he had been a bold, active climber, and hisknowledge and former skill made the attempted feat possible. The mainquestion was whether in his feeble state his strength would hold out. But the strong excitement of the moment would serve him in place ofmuscle. He had thrown off his coat and boots, and, with a small ropefastened about his waist, he swiftly ascended to the top of theladder. But there were three or four feet that he must overhand up thelightning-rod in order to reach the ridge. It was large and twisted, and gave him a good hold, but he had to take the risk of its beingstrong enough in its fastening to sustain his weight. Fortunately itwas, and he unhesitatingly commenced the perilous effort. He made goodprogress till he was within a foot of the ridge. Then his strengthbegan to fail, and plainly to those below he wavered. 

With white face, clasped hands, and lips moving in prayer, Anniewatched him. Her heart almost stood still with dread; and when towardthe last he slowly and still more slowly overhanded upward, plainlyindicating that his strength was ebbing, she cried, in an agony offear, "Come back, oh come back! What is all here to your life?" Asecond before it seemed to him that he must fail, that he mightsuddenly fall at her feet a crushed and lifeless mass; but her voicerevived him, and the passionate thought came with inspiring power, "Ican do more to win her love now than by years of effort"; and he madea desperate struggle, gained the ridge, and crawled out upon it, panting for a moment, and powerless to do more than cling for support. 

The burning cinder was now but little in advance of him, and he sawthat there was not a second to lose. It had charred and blackened theroof where it had caught, and, fanned by the wind, was a live, glowingcoal. The shingles under it were smoking--yes, smouldering. Had it notbeen for their dampness and mossy age, they would have been blazing. In a few moments nothing could have saved the house. 

As soon as he got his breath, he crept along the ridge within reach ofthe fiery flake. There seemed no place where he could lay hold of itwithout burning himself. It would not do to simply detach it, as itmight catch further down the steep roof where it could not be reached. Above all, there was not a moment to spare. He did not hesitate, butwith sufficient presence of mind to use his left instead of his righthand, he seized the fatal brand and hurled it, a fiery meteor, clearof the house. It hurt him cruelly, and for a moment he felt sick andfaint; but a round of applause from those below (for now Miss Eulieand the children were out, looking tremblingly on), and Annie's cry ofjoy and encouragement, again gave him strength. 

But as he looked closely at the spot where the cinder had laid, hisfears were realized. It had ignited the roof. A little water wouldextinguish it now, but in a few moments, under the wild wind that wasblowing, all would be ablaze. 

He crawled to the end of the ridge and shouted, "Tie a light pail ofwater to the cord--not much at a time, or I can't draw it up. "

Annie darted to the house for a lighter pail than Hannah had brought, and to Gregory's joy he found that he had strength enough to lift it, though with his burned band it was agony to do so. But with the nowgood prospect of finishing his work successfully, his spirits rose. Hegrew more familiar and confident in his dangerous position. He did notlook down from his giddy height, and permitted himself to think ofnothing but his task. Indeed, in his strong excitement, he felt thatit would not be a bitter thing to die thus serving the woman he loved;and in his false philosophy he hoped this brave act might atone forthe wrong of the past. 

It is the nature of noble, generous deeds to exalt a man's soul sothat he can fearlessly face death, when in calm moments he wouldshrink back appalled. In the excitement of the hour, and under theinspiration of his strong human love, Gregory was not afraid to die, though life seemed, with its new possibilities, sweeter than everbefore. He knew that his strength was failing fast, that reactionwould soon set in, and that he would be helpless, and his great hopewas that he could save the house first. 

He determined therefore not to waste a drop of water, and to make thisone pail answer if possible. He therefore poured it slowly out, andlet it run over the burning part. The continued hissing and smokeproved that the fire had penetrated deeper than he thought. The lastdrop was gone, and still the place smoked. A little more wasabsolutely necessary. 

"Will my strength hold out?" he asked himself, in almost an agony ofdoubt. 

Crawling back to the end of the ridge, he once more lowered the pail. 

"Fill it again, " he cried. 

"Can you stand it?" Mr. Walton asked. 

"I must, or all is useless, " was his answer. 

Again, but more slowly and painfully, he pulled the water up. 

Annie wrung her hands in anguish as she saw in the red glare of thestill burning factory how pale and exhausted he was. 

But he once more managed to reach the point above the stillsmouldering spot, and caused the water to trickle down upon it. By thetime he had half emptied the pail the smoke ceased. 

After a moment it again faintly exuded, but another little stream ofwater quenched the fire utterly. But for five minutes he watched theplace to make sure that there was not a lingering spark, and then letthe rest of the water flow over the place to saturate it completely. 

He was now certain that the house was saved. But he was satisfied fromhis sensations that he had but little time in which to save himself. Reaction was fast setting in. 

He untied the rope from his waist, and let pail and all rollclattering down the roof. This noise was echoed by a cry of alarm fromthose below, who feared for a moment that he was falling. They all hadthe sickening dread which is felt when we look at one in great peril, and yet can do nothing to help. 

At first Gregory thought that he would lie down upon the ridge andcling to it, thus gaining strength by a little rest. But he soon foundthat this would not answer. His overtaxed frame was becomingnerveless, and his only hope was to escape at once. In tremblingweakness he crawled back to the edge and looked over. Annie steppedforward to the foot of the ladder and extended her hands as if tocatch him. 

"Stand back, " he cried; "if I fall, I shall kill you. "

"I will not stand back, " she answered. "You shall not take all therisk. "

But her father, who still kept his presence of mind in the terribleexcitement of the moment, forced her away, and saved her from thedanger of this useless sacrifice. As soon as she could do nothing, herfortitude vanished, and she covered her face with her hands and weptbitterly. 

The chief point of difficulty in Gregory's weak state was to get offthe ridge upon the lightning-rod without losing his hold and fallingat once. If he could turn the edge and begin to descend in safety, hisstrength might hold out till he reached the ladder and so the ground. But he realized the moment of supreme peril, and hesitated. 

Then, with something like a prayer to God and with a wistful look atAnnie, he resolutely swung himself over. His hands held the weight ofhis body, and he commenced the descent. Annie's glad cry once moreencouraged him. He gained the ladder and descended till not far fromthe ground. 

Suddenly everything turned black before his eyes, and he fell. 

CHAPTER XXVI

CHANGES IN GREGORY

When Gregory became conscious, he was lying on the ground, with hishead in Miss Eulie's lap, and Annie was bending over him with a smallflask. She again gave him a teaspoonful of brandy, and after a momenthe lifted himself up, and, passing his hand across his brow, lookedaround. 

"You are not hurt. Oh, please say you are not hurt!" she exclaimed, taking his hand. 

He looked at her a moment, and then it all came back to him, and hesmiled and said, "Not much, I think; and if I am it does not signify. You've helped me on my feet once or twice before. Now see if you canagain;" and he attempted to rise. 

As Daddy Tuggar had intimated, there was plenty of muscle in Annie'sround arms, and she almost lifted him up, but he stood unsteadily. Mr. Walton gave him his arm, and in a few moments he was on the sofa inthe sitting-room, where a fire was soon kindled. Zibbie was told tomake coffee, and to provide something more substantial. 

They were all profuse in expressions of gratitude, in praises of hisheroism, but he waived the whole matter off by saying, "Think of me aswell as you can, for Heaven knows I have need to retrieve mycharacter. But please do not speak as if I had done more than I ought. For a young man to stand idly by, and see the home of his childhood, the place where he had received unbounded hospitality, destroyed, would be simply base. If I had not been reduced by months of illhealth, the thing would not have been difficult at all. But you, MissWalton, displayed the real heroism in the case, when you stood beneathwith your arms out to catch me. I took a risk, but you took thecertainty of destruction if I had fallen. Still, " he added, with ahumorous look as if in jest, though he was only too sincere, "theprospect was so inviting that I should have liked to fall a littleway. "

"And so you did, " cried innocent Johnny, eagerly. "You fell ever sofar, and Aunt Annie caught you. "

"What!" exclaimed Gregory, rising. "Is this true? And are you nothurt?"

"That's the way with children, " said Annie, with heightened color anda reproachful look at the boy, who in the excitement of the hour waspermitted to stay up for an hour or more; "they let everything allout. No, I'm not hurt a bit. You didn't fall very far. I'm so thankfulthat your strength did not give out till you almost reached theground. O dear! I shudder to think what might have happened. Do youknow that I thought, with a thrill of superstitious dread, of yourchestnut-burr omen, when you stained my hand with your blood. If youhad fallen--if--" and she put her hand over her eyes to hide thedreadful vision her imagination presented. "If anything had happened, "she continued, "my hands would have been stained, in that they had notheld you back. "

"What a tender, innocent conscience you have!" he replied, lookingfondly at her. "I confess I'd rather be here listening to you thansomewhere else. "

She gave him a troubled, startled look. To her that "somewhere else"had a sad and terrible meaning. She sat near him, and could not helpsaying in a low, earnest tone, "How could you, how could you take sucha risk without--" She did not finish the sentence, which was plainenough in its meaning, however. 

On the impulse of the moment, Gregory was about to reply indiscreetly--in a way that would have revealed more of his feelings toward herthan he knew would be wise at that time. But just then Hannah came inwith the lunch, and the attention of the others, who had been talkingeagerly on the other side of the room, was directed toward them. Hechecked some rash words as they rose to his lips, and Annie, suspecting nothing of the wealth of love that he was already lavishingupon her, rose with alacrity, glad to serve one who had just servedher so well. The generous coffee and the dainty lunch, combined withfeelings to which he had long been a stranger, revived Gregorygreatly, and he sprang up and walked the room, declaring that with theexception of his burned hand, which had been carefully dressed, hefelt better than he had for a long time. 

"I'm so thankful!" said Annie, with glistening eyes. 

"We all have cause for thankfulness, " said Mr. Walton, with fervor. "Our kind Father in heaven has dealt with us all in tender mercy. Home, and more precious life, have been spared. Before we again seek alittle rest, let us remember all His goodness;" and he led them in asimple, fervent prayer, the effect of which was heightened by Mr. Walton saying, after he rose from his knees, "Annie, we must see thatnone of our poor neighbors lack for anything, now that theiremployment has so suddenly been taken away. "

That is acceptable devotion to God which leads to practical, activecharity toward men, and the most unbelieving are won by such areligion. 

Annie noticed with some anxiety that her father's voice was veryhoarse, and that he put his hand upon his chest several times, and sheexpressed the fear that the exposure would greatly add to his cold. Hetreated the matter lightly, and would do nothing more that eveningthan take some simple remedies. 

When Gregory bade them good-night, Annie followed him to the foot ofthe stairs, and giving his hand one of her warm grasps, said, "Mr. Gregory, I can't help feeling that your mother knows what you havedone to-night. "

Tears started to his eyes. He did not trust himself to reply, but, with a strong answering pressure, hastened to his room, happier thanhe had been in all his past. 

It was late the next morning when they assembled at the breakfast-table, and they noted with pain that Mr. Walton did not appear at allwell, though he made a great effort to keep up. He was very hoarse, and complained of a tightness in his chest. 

"Now, father, " said Annie, "you must stay in the house, and let menurse you. "

"I am very willing to submit, " he replied, "and hope I shall need noother physician. " But he was feverish all day. His indisposition didnot yield to ordinary remedies. Still, beyond a little naturalsolicitude, no anxiety was felt. 

Gregory was a different man. Even his sincere human love for so worthyan object had lifted him out of the miserable depths into which he hadbeen sinking. It had filled his heart with pure longings, and made himcapable of noble deeds. 

As a general thing a woman inspires love in accordance with her owncharacter. Of course we recognize the fact that there are men withnatures so coarse that they are little better than animals. These menmay have a passing passion for any pretty woman; but the holy wordLove should not be used in such connection. But of men--of thosepossessing true manhood, even in humblest station--the above assertionI think will be found true. The woman who gains the boundless powerwhich the undivided homage of an honest heart confers will develop init, and quicken into life, traits and feelings corresponding to herown. If the great men of the world have generally had good mothers, soas a parallel fact will it be found that the strong, useful, successful men--men who sustain themselves, and more than fulfil thepromise of their youth--have been supplemented and continuallyinspired to better things by the ennobling companionship of truewomen. 

Good breeding, the ordinary restraints of self-respect, and fear ofthe world's adverse opinion, greatly reduce the outward diversities ofsociety. Well-bred men and women act and appear very much alike in thepublic eye. But there is an inner life, a real character, upon whichhappiness here and heaven hereafter depend, which results largely fromthat tie and intimacy which is closest of all. A shallow, frivolousgirl, having faith in little else than her pretty face and thedressmaker's art, may unfortunately inspire a good, talented man, whoimagines her to possess all that the poets have portrayed in woman, with a true and strong affection, but she will disappoint and dwarfhim, and be a millstone about his neck. She will cease to be hiscompanion. She may be thankful if, in his heart, he does not learn todespise her, though a man can scarcely do this and be guiltless towardthe mother of his children. 

What must be the daily influence on a man who sees in his closestfriend, to whom he is joined for life, a passion for the public gaze, a boundless faith in eternals, a complete devotion to the artificialenhancing of ordinary and vanishing charms, combined with acontemptuous neglect of the graces of mind and heart? These alone cankeep the love which outward appearance in part may have won at first. Mere dress and beauty are very well to skirmish with during the firstapproaches; but if a woman wishes to hold the conquered province of aman's heart, and receive from it rich revenues of love and honor, shemust possess some queenly traits akin to divine royalty, otherwise sheonly overruns the heart she might have ruled, and leaves it a blightedwaste. 

As we have seen, Annie's actual character rebuked and humiliated theevil-minded Gregory from the first. He could not rest in her presence. To relieve himself from self-condemnation, he must prove her goodnessa sham or an accident--mere chance exemption from temptation. Hersafety and happy influence did not depend upon good resolutions, wisepolicy, and careful instruction, but upon her real possession of acharacter which had been formed long before, and which met and foiledhim at every point. Lacking this, though a well-meaning, good girl inthe main, she would have been a plaything in the hands of such a man. Her absolute truth and crystal purity of principle incased her inheaven's armor, and neither he nor any other evil-disposed personcould harm her. She would not listen to the first insidious suggestionof the tempter. Thus the man who expected to go away despising nowhonored, reverenced, loved her, and through her strong but gentleministry had turned his back on evil, and was struggling to escape itsdegrading bondage. 

Gregory was right in thinking that such a woman as Annie could helphim to an extent hard to estimate, but fatally wrong in looking to heralone. The kind Father who regards the well-being of His children foreternity rather than for the moments of time, must effectually curehim of this error. 

But those two days were memorable ones to him. The cold and stormyweather shut them all in the house, and that meant to him Annie'ssociety. He was seldom alone with her; he noted with pain that hermanner was too frank and kindly, too free from all consciousness, toindicate anything more than the friendship she had promised; but, notknowing how her heart was preoccupied, he hoped that the awakening ofdeeper feeling was only a question of time. His present peace and restwere so blessed, her presence was so satisfying, and his progress inher favor so apparent as he revealed his better nature, that he wascontent to call his love friendship until he saw her friendshipturning into love. 

Had not Annie expected Hunting every day she would have told Gregoryall about her relation with him, but now she determined that she wouldbring them together under the same roof, and not let them separatetill she had banished every trace of their difficulty. A partialreconciliation might result in future coolness and estrangement. Thisshe would regard as a misfortune, even if it had no unfavorableinfluence on Gregory, for he now proved himself the best of company. Indeed, they seemed to have a remarkable gift for entertaining eachother. 

While Wednesday did not find Mr. Walton seriously ill to allappearance, he was still far from being well. He employed himself withhis papers and seemed to enjoy Gregory's conversation greatly. 

"He now grows very like his father, and reminds me constantly of him, "he said more than once to Annie. 

Mr. Walton's indisposition was evidently not trivial. There was asoreness about the lungs that made it painful for him to talk much, and he had a severe, racking cough. They were all solicitude in hisbehalf. The family physician had been called, and it was hoped that afew days of care would remove this cold. 

As he sat in his comfortable arm-chair by the fire he would smilinglysay he was having such a good time and so much petting that he did notintend to get well very soon. 

Though Gregory's burn was painful, and both hands were bruised and cutfrom climbing, he did not regret the suffering, since it also securedfrom Annie some of the attention she would otherwise have given herfather. 

Wednesday afternoon was pleasant, and Gregory went out for a walk. Hedid not return till rather late, and, coming down to supper, found byhis plate a letter which clouded his face instantly. 

Annie was radiant, for the same mail had brought her one from Hunting, stating that he might be expected any day now. As she saw Gregory'sface darken, she said, "I fear your letter has brought you unpleasantnews. "

"It has, " he replied. "Mr. Burnett, the senior partner, is quite ill, and it is necessary that I return immediately. "

"I'm so sorry, " she exclaimed, with such hearty emphasis that helooked at her earnestly and said, "Are you really?"

"You shouldn't ask such a question, " she answered, reproachfully. 

"Why, Miss Walton, I've made a very long visit. "

"So much has happened that it does seem a long time since you came. But I wish it were to be longer. We shall miss you exceedingly. Besides, " she added, with rising color, "I have a special reason forwishing you to stay a little longer. "

His color rose instantly also. She puzzled him, while he perplexedher. 

"I hope Mr. Gregory's visit has taught him, " said Mr. Walton, kindly, "that he has not lost his former home through our residence here, andthat he can run up to the old place whenever he finds opportunity. "

"I can say sincerely, " he responded, "that I have enjoyed theperfection of hospitality;" adding, in a low tone and with a quick, remorseful look at Annie, "though little deserving it. "

"You have richly repaid us, " said Mr. Walton, heartily. "It would havebeen very hard for me at my years to have to seek a new home. I havebecome wedded to this old place with my feelings and fancies, and theaged, you know, dislike change. I wish to make only one more, thenrest will be complete. "

"Now, father, " said Annie, with glistening eyes, "you must not talk inthat way. You know well that we cannot spare you even to go toheaven. "

"Well, my child, " answered he, fondly. "I am content to leave that inour best Friend's hands. But I cannot say, " he added, with a touch ofhumor, "that it's a heavy cross to stay here with you. "

"Would that such a cross were imposed upon me!" echoed Gregory, withsudden devoutness. "Miss Walton, did not my business imperativelydemand my presence, I would break anything save my neck, in order tobe an invalid on your hands. "

"Come, " cried Annie, half-vexed; "a truce to this style of remark. Ithink it's verging toward the sentimental, and I'm painfully matter-of-fact. Father, you must not think of going to heaven yet, and Idon't like to hear you talk about it. Mr. Gregory can break his littlefinger, if he likes, so we may keep him longer. But do let us all besensible, and not think of anything sad till it comes. Why should we?Mr. Gregory surely can find time to run up and see us, if he wishes, and I think he will. "

Before he could reply, an anxious remark from little Susie enabledthem to leave the table in the midst of one of those laughs thatbanish all embarrassment. 

"But we'll be burned up if Mr. Gregory goes away. "

CHAPTER XXVII

PLEADING FOR LIFE AND LOVE

Knowing that it was to be Gregory's last day with them, Anniedetermined it should be full of pleasant memories. She sung with him, and did anything he asked. Her heart overflowed toward him in a genialand almost sisterly regard, but his most careful analysis could findno trace even of the inception of warmer feelings. She evidently had astrong and growing liking for him, but nothing more, and she clearlyfelt the great interest in his effort to become a man of Christianprinciples. This fact gave him his main hope. Her passion to saveseemed so strong that he trusted she might be approached even thusearly upon that side. 

He felt that he must speak--must get some definite hope for the futurebefore he went away. It seemed to him that he could fairly bring hisgreat need as a motive to bear upon her. Her whole course encouragedhim to do this, for she had responded to every such appeal. Still withfear and trembling he admitted that he was about to ask for more nowthan ever before. 

But he felt that he must speak. He had no hope that he could ever bemore than his wretched self without her. He would ask nothingdefinite--only encouragement that if he could make himself worthy ofher she would give him a chance to win her love. In her almostsisterly frankness it seemed that the idea of loving him had neveroccurred to her, and would not after he had gone. The thought ofleaving her heart all disengaged, for some other to come and make astronger impression, was torture. He never could be satisfied with theclosest friendship, therefore he must plainly seek a dearer tie, eventhough for a time their frank, pleasant relations should be disturbed. He resolved to take no denial, but to give fair warning, before it wastoo late, that he was laying siege to her heart. He dreaded thatattitude of mind upon her part which enables a woman to say to somemen, "I could be your sister, but never your wife. "

So he said before they separated for the night, "Miss Walton, I'mgoing to snatch a few hours from the hurry and grind of business, andshall not return to town till to-morrow afternoon. Won't you take onemore ramble with me in the morning?"

"With pleasure, " she replied, promptly. "I will devote myself to youto-morrow, and leave you without excuse for not coming again. "

He flushed with pleasure at her reply, but said, quickly, "By the waythat reminds me. Won't you tell me what your 'special reason' was forwishing me to stay a little longer?"

It was her turn to blush now, which she did in a way that puzzled him. She answered, hesitatingly, "Well, I think I'll tell you to-morrow. "

"Good-night, " said Mr. Walton, feelingly retaining Gregory's hand whenhe came to his chair. "We are coming to treat you almost as one of thefamily. Indeed it seems hard to treat you in any other way now, especially in your old home, now doubly yours since you have saved itfrom destruction. Every day you remind me more of my dear old friend. For some reason he has seemed very near me of late. If it should be mylot to see your sainted parents before you do, as it probably will, Ibelieve it will be in my power to add even to their heavenly joys bytelling them of your present prospects. Good-night, and may theblessing of your father's and mother's God rest upon you. "

Tears sprung into the young man's eyes, and with a strong responsivepressure of Mr. Walton's hand, he hastened to his room, to hide whatwas not weakness. 

That was the last time he saw his father's friend. 

Annie's eyes glistened as she looked after him, and throwing her armsaround her father's neck, she whispered, "God did send him here I nowtruly believe. We have not conspired and prayed in vain. "

Mr. Walton fondly stroked his daughter's brown hair, and said, "Youare right, Annie; he will be a gem in your crown of rejoicing. Youhave acted very wisely, very womanly, as your mother would, in thismatter. He was a bad man when he first came here, and if I had notknown you so well, I should not have trusted you with him as I have. Be as faithful through life, and you may lead many more out ofdarkness. "

"Dear father, " said Annie, tenderly, "this whole day, with Charles'sgood letter, and crowned with these precious words from you, seem likea benediction. May we have many more such. "

"May God's will be done, " said the riper Christian, with eyes turnedhomeward. 

Thus in hope, peace, and gladness the day ended for all. 

"Ye know not what shall be on the morrow. "

To Gregory's unfeigned sorrow Mr. Walton was not well enough to appearat the breakfast-table the following morning. Annie was flitting inand out with a grave and troubled face. But by ten o'clock he seemedbetter and fell asleep. Leaving Miss Eulie watching beside him, shecame and said, "Now, Mr. Gregory, I can keep my promise in part, andtake a short walk with you. You can well understand why I cannot beaway long. "

"Please do not feel that you must go, " he said. "However great thedisappointment, I could not ask you to leave your father if he needsyou. "

"You may rest assured that nothing would tempt me from father if heneeded me. But I think the worst is now over. He is sleeping quietly. I can trust aunty even better than myself. Besides, I want to go. Ineed the fresh air, and I wish to see more of you before you leaveus. "

He cordially thanked her and said, "I shall wait for you on thepiazza. "

They went down across the lawn through the garden. The sun was shiningbrightly, though occasionally obscured by clouds. 

"How beautiful everything is, " said Annie, "even now, when the leavesare half off the trees and falling fast! At any season, the moment Iget out of doors I feel new life and hope. "

"What nature does for you, Miss Annie, you seem to do for others. Ifeel 'new life and hope' the moment I am with you. "

She looked at him quickly, for she did not quite like his tone andmanner. But she only said, "You must believe, as I do, in a powerbehind nature. "

"But even you believe He works through human agencies. "

"Yes, up to a certain point. "

"But who can say where that point is in any experience? Miss Walton, "he continued, in grave earnestness, stopping and pointing to therustic seat where, on the previous Sabbath, he had revealed to her hisevil life, "that place is sacred to me. No hallowed spot of earth towhich pilgrimages are made can compare with it. You know that in someplaces in Europe they raise a rude cross by the roadside where a manhas been murdered. Should there not be a monument where one was givenlife?"

As they resumed their walk, he said in a low, meaning tone, "Do youremember old Daddy Tuggar's words--'You could take the wickedest manliving straight to heaven if you'd stay right by him?'"

"But he was wrong, " she replied. 

"Pardon me if I differ with you, and agree with him. Miss Walton, I'vebeen in your society scarcely three weeks. You know what I was when Icame. I make no great claims now, but surely if tendencies, wishes, purposes count for anything, I am very different. How can you argue meout of the consciousness that I owe it all to you?"

"You will one day understand, " she answered, earnestly, "that God hashelped us both, and how futile my efforts would have been without suchhelp. But, Mr. Gregory, " she continued, looking frankly into hisflushed face (for she was beginning to suspect now something of hisdrift, and instinctively sought to ward off words which might disturbtheir pleasant relations), "I do not intend to give you up from thisday forth. As our quaint old friend suggests, I do mean to stand rightby you as far as circumstances will allow me. I recognize how isolatedand lonely you are, and I feel almost a _sister_'s interest in you. "

"You emphasize the word 'sister. ' I suppose I ought to be more thansatisfied. Believe me I am very grateful that you can so speak. Butsuppose the frankness I promised compels me to say that it does not, and never can satisfy?"

"Then I shall think you very unreasonable. You have no right to askmore than one has the power to give, " she answered, with a look andmanner that were full of pain. "But surely, Mr. Gregory, we do notunderstand each other. "

"But I want you to understand me, " he exclaimed, earnestly. "If youhad the vanity and worldly experience of most women, you would haveknown before this that I love you. "

Tears rushed into Annie's eyes, and for a few moments she walked on inutter silence. This was so different an ending from what she hadexpected! She felt that she must be very careful or she would undo allshe had attempted. She now dreaded utter failure, utter estrangement, and how to avoid these was her chief thought. 

They had reached the cedar thicket near which they had first met, andshe sat down upon the rock where she had found Gregory. Her whole aimwas to end this unfortunate matter so that they might still continuefriends. And yet the task seemed wellnigh impossible, for if he feltas he said, how could she tell him about Hunting without increasingalienation? But her impression was strong that he was acting under anexaggerated sense of her services and under a mistaken belief that shewas essential to him. Therefore she tried at first to turn the matteroff lightly by saying, "Mr. Gregory, you are the most grateful man Iever heard of. You need not think you must reward my slight servicesby marrying me. "

"Now you greatly wrong me, " he answered. "Did I not say I loved you?How deeply and truly you can never know. I cannot reward you. I didnot dream of such a thing. My best hope was that some time in thefuture, when by long and patient effort I had become truly a man, youmight learn to think of me in the way I wish. "

"Mr. Gregory, " said she, in a voice full of trouble, "has my manner orwords led you to hope this? If so, I can never forgive myself. "

"You have no cause for self-reproaches, " he said, earnestly. "Thoughmy suit should ever prove hopeless, in the depths of my heart I willacquit you of all blame. You have been what you promised--a truefriend, nothing more. But please understand me. I ask nothing now, Iam not worthy. Perhaps I never shall be. If so, I will not bind you tome with even a gossamer thread. I have too deep a respect for you. ButI am so self-distrustful! I know my weakness better than you can. Still I am confident that if _you_ could 'reward' me, and give thehope that you would crown the victory with yourself, I could doanything. In loving me, you would save me. "

"Pardon me, but you are all wrong. I'm only an oar, but you look uponme as the lifeboat itself. In that you persist in looking to me, aweak, sinful creature, instead of to Him who alone 'taketh away thesin of the world, ' you discourage me utterly. "

"I will look to Him, but I want you to lead me to Him, and keep me atHis side. "

"I can do that just as well by being your friend. "

"I can never think so. I shall go away from this place utterlydisheartened unless you give me some hope, no matter how faint, that Ishall not have to struggle alone. "

She sprung up quickly, for he incensed her, while at the same time shepitied him. She could not understand how he had so soon learned tolove her "deeply and truly. " It rather appeared true that he hadformed the mistaken opinion that she was essential to his success, andthat he was bent upon bolstering himself up in his weakness, andsought to place her as a barrier between him and his old evil life;and she felt that he might need some wholesome truth rather thantender sympathy. At any rate her womanly nature took offence at hisapparent motive, as she understood it--a motive that appeared moreselfish and unworthy every moment. He was asking what he had no rightto expect of any one. But she would not misunderstand him, andtherefore said with a grave, searching look, "Only then as I give youthe hope you ask for, will you make the effort you have promised tomake?"

"Only then can I make it, " he replied, in some confusion. "Can effortof any kind be asked of one utterly disabled?"

Sudden fire leaped into her dark eyes, but she said, with dignity, "Mr. Gregory, you disappoint me greatly. You assume a weakness--adisability--which does not and cannot exist under the circumstances. You made me a promise, but now impose a new condition which I did notdream of at the time, and which I cannot accept. You are asking morethan you have a right to ask. However imperfect my efforts have beenin your behalf, they were at least sincere and unselfish, and I wasbeginning to have a warm regard for you as a friend. I tell youfrankly that I am most anxious that we should remain friends asbefore. If so, this kind of folly must cease now and forever. I haveno right to listen to such words at all, and would not but for yoursake, and in the hope of removing from your mind a very mistaken andunworthy idea. You are entirely wrong in thinking that your futuredepends solely upon me. It cannot--it ought not. It rests between youand God, and you cannot shift the responsibility. I am willing to doall you can ask of a sister, but no more. Do you think I have noneeds, no weakness, myself? In a husband I want a man I can lean uponas well as help. I wish to marry one with a higher moral characterthan mine, to whom I can look up. There is the widest difference inthe world between giving help, and even sincere affection to those whowin it, and giving one's self away. Simple justice requires that myhappiness and feelings be considered also. It is selfish in you to askof me this useless sacrifice of myself. "

Annie's quick, passionate nature was getting the better of her. Itseemed in a certain sense disloyalty to Hunting to have listened thuslong to Gregory. Moreover, not believing in nor understanding thelatter's love for her, she was indignant that he should seek to employher as a sort of stepping-stone into heaven. She would despise the manwho sought her merely to advance his earthly interests, and she wasgrowing honestly angry at Gregory, who, it seemed, wanted her only asa guide and staff in his pilgrimage--justly angry, too, if she wereright. 

Gregory became very pale as her words quivered in his heart likearrows, but in the consciousness of a true and unselfish love, helooked at her unfalteringly to the last, and said, "In justice tomyself I might again urge that you misunderstand me. I asked fornothing now, only a hope for the future based on what I possibly mightbecome. But, as you say, I now know I asked too much--more than I hada right to. You can never look up to me, and with a sadness you willnever understand, I admit myself answered finally. But there is oneimputation in your words that I cannot rest under. I solemnly assertbefore God, and in the name of my mother, that my love for you is asstrong, pure, and unselfish as can exist in my half-wrecked nature. "

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Annie, in a tone of mingled vexation anddistress, "why has it all turned out so miserably? I'm so sorry, sovery sorry; but in kindness I must show you how hopeless it all is. Iam the same as engaged to another. "

Gregory started violently. His despairing words had been not quitedespairing. But now a chill like death settled about his heart. He waswell satisfied that she was one who would be true as steel to all suchties, and that no man who had learned to know her would ever proveinconstant. But, with a white face and firmly compressed lips, hestill listened quietly. 

"I came out this morning hoping to tell you a little secret as I mightconfide in a brother, and I trusted that your friendship for me wouldprove strong enough to enable me to make you his friend also. I wantedyou to stay a little longer, that you might meet him, and that I mightreconcile you, and prepare the way for pleasant companionship in thefuture. I am expecting Charles Hunting now every--

"What is the matter? What do you mean by that look of horror? Whathave you against him, that you should show such deep hostility before, and now stare at me in almost terror?"

But he only staggered against a tree for support. 

"Speak, " cried she, passionately seizing his arm. "I will not endurethe innuendo of your look and manner. "

"I will speak, " he answered, in sudden vehemence. "I've lost too muchby him. Charles Hunting is--"

But he stopped, clinched his hands, and seemed to make a desperateeffort at self-control. She heard him mutter as he turned away a fewsteps, "Stop! stop! All that is left you now is a little self-respect. Keep that--keep that. "

Annie misunderstood him, and thought he referred to some slander thathe had hesitated to utter against his enemy even in his anger andjealousy. With flashing eyes she said, "Let me complete the sentencefor you. Charles Hunting is a Christian gentleman. You may well thinktwice before you speak one word against him in my presence. "

"Did I say one word against him?" he asked, eagerly. 

"No, but you looked much more than words can express. "

"I could not help that. Your revelation was sudden, Miss Walton. "

"How could it be otherwise?" she asked, indignantly. "The firstevening of your arrival, when his name was mentioned, your face grewas black as night. When I again sought to speak to you of him, youadjured me never to mention his name. You taxed my forbearanceseverely at that time. But I hoped you would become so changed thatsuch enmity would be impossible. "

"I see it all now, " he groaned--"the miserable fatality of it all. Imust shut off the one way of escape, and then go forward. By my ownact, I must destroy my one chance. If I had only known this in time. And yet it's through my own act that I did not know. Your God iscertainly one of justice. I'm punished now for all the past. But itseems a trifle cruel to show one heaven and then shut the door inone's face. If I had only known!"

"There, " exclaimed Annie, in the deepest distress; "because of thislittle thing you fall back into your old scepticism. "

"This 'little thing' is death to me, " he said, in a hard, bitter tone. "Oh no, I'm not at all sceptical. The 'argument from design, ' thenature of the result, are both too clear. I'm simply being dealt withaccording to law. Though perfectly sincere, you were entirely toolenient that Sunday evening when I told you what I was. My consciencewas right after all. I only wish that I had fallen from yonder roofthe other night. I might then have made my exit decently. "

"Mr. Gregory, you shock me, " she said, almost sternly. "You have noright to insult my faith in a merciful God by such words, and yourbelieving Him cruel and vindictive on this one bit of your experienceis the sheerest egotism. It is the essence of selfishness to thinkeverything wrong when one does not have one's own way. "

He only bowed his answer, then stepped out to the point of the hill, and took a long, lingering look at the valley and his old home, sigheddeeply, turned, and said to her, quietly, "Perhaps it is time for youto return to your father. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

WHAT A LOVER COULD DO

Without a word they descended the hill. Gregory was very pale, andthis, with a certain firmness about his mouth, was the only indicationof feeling on his part. Otherwise, he was the same finished man of theworld that he had appeared when he came. Annie's face grew more andmore troubled with every glance at him. 

"He is hardening into stone, " she thought; and she was alreadyreproaching herself for speaking so harshly. "I might have known, " shethought, "that his rash, bitter words were only incoherent cries ofpain and disappointment. "

He perplexed her still more by saying at the foot of the hill, in hisold light tone, "See, Miss Walton, our 'well-meaning friend' has notbeen here to put up the bars, and we can take the shorter way throughthe orchard. I would like to see them picking apples once more. By theway, you must say good-by for me to your old neighbor, and tell himthat out of respect for his first honest greeting, I'm going to fillhis pipe for the winter. "

But Annie's heart was too full to answer. 

"How familiar these mossy-trunked trees are!" he continued, determinedthat there should be no awkward pauses, no traces to the eyes ofothers of what had occurred. "How often I've picked apples from thisone and that one--indeed from all! Good-by, old friends. "

"Do you never expect to come back to these 'old friends, ' and othersthat would be friends again?" she asked, in low, trembling tones. "Mr. Gregory, you are cruel. You are saying good-by as if it were a veryordinary matter. "

He did not trust himself to look at her, but he said, firmly, "MissWalton, in a few moments we shall be under the eyes of others, andperhaps I shall never have another chance to speak to you alone. Letme say a few plain, honest words before I go. I am not ashamed of mylove for you, nor to have it known. I am glad there was man enough inme to love such a woman as you are. You are not one of those societybelles who wish to boast of their conquests. I wish merely to leave ina manner that will save you all embarrassing questions and surmises, and enable you to go back to your father as if nothing had happened. The best I can do is to maintain the outward semblance of a gentlemanwith which I came. In regard to Charles Hunting--please listenpatiently--I know that you will not believe any statement of mine. Itis your nature to trust implicitly those you love. But since I havehad time to think, even the little conscience I possess will notpermit me to go away in silence in regard to him. Do not think mywords inspired by jealousy. I have given you up. You are asunattainable by me as heaven. But that man is not worthy of you. Thinkwell before you--"

"You are right, " she interrupted, hotly. "I will not believe anythingagainst him whom I have known and loved for years. If sincere, you aremistaken. But I entreat you, for my own sake as well as yours, neverspeak a word against him again. Because, if you do, it will be hardfor me to forgive you. If you place the slightest value on my goodopinion and continued regard, you will not throw them away souselessly. I do feel--I ever wish to feel--a deep and friendlyinterest in you, therefore speak for yourself, and I will listen withhonest sympathy. Give me hope, if possible, that you will think betterof all this folly--that you will visit your old home and those whowish to be your true friends--that you will give me a chance to makeyou better acquainted with one whom you now greatly wrong. Please giveme something better than this parting promises to end in. "

He merely bowed and said, "I supposed it would be so. It is like you. As for myself--I do not know what my future will be, save that it willbe full of pain. Rest assured of one thing, however. I can never be acommon, vulgar sinner again, after having loved you. That would besacrilege. Your memory will blend with that of my mother, and shinelike a distant star in my long night. But you have no right to ask meto come here any more. Though you do not believe in my love, it is areality nevertheless, and I cannot inflict upon myself the unbearablepain of seeing you, yet hedged about with that which must ever keep meat a distance. With my feelings, even my poor sense of honor forbidsmy seeking your presence. Can I visit you feigning friendship, whilemy heart is consuming with love? Come, Miss Walton, we shall have ourreal leave taking here, and our formal one at the house. I don't thinkgratitude will ever fade out of my heart for all you have tried to dofor me, wherever I am. Even the 'selfish' Walter Gregory can honestlywish you happiness unalloyed. And you will have it, too, in spite of--well, in spite of everything, for your happiness is from within, notwithout. Give me your hand, and say good-by under the old mossytrees. "

Annie burst into tears and said, "I can't say good-by and have youleave us so unhappy--so unbelieving. Mr. Gregory, will you never trustin God?"

"I fear not--not after what I know to-day. He seems wronging you whoare so true to Him, as well as me. You see I am honest with you, as Isaid I would be. Can you take the hand of such as I?"

She did take it in both of hers, and said, with passionateearnestness, "O that I could save you from yourself by main force!"

He was deeply moved, but after a moment said, gently, "That is likeyour warm heart. But you cannot. Good-by, Annie Walton. Go on in yourbrave, noble life to the end, and then heaven will be the better foryour coming. "

"Will you forgive my harsh words?"

"They were more true than harsh. They were forgiven when spoken. "

"Mr. Gregory, " she cried, "I will not say farewell as you say it. Ihave prayed for you, and so has your mother. I will still pray for youunceasingly. You cannot prevent it, and I will not doubt God's promiseto hear. "

"I cannot share your faith. I am saying good-by in the saddest sense. "

He stooped and kissed her hand, and then said, firmly, "The end hascome. We really part here. I leave you as I came. "

With eyes downcast and blinded with tears she accompanied him out ofthe deep shade to the further side of the orchard nearest the house. Jeff was on a tall ladder that leaned against a heavily laden tree, and was just about to descend. 

"That's right, " cried Gregory; "come down with your basket and give mea taste of those apples. They look the same as when I used to pickthem sixteen years ago. "

Jeff obeyed with alacrity. Gregory accompanied him a few steps, anddropped a banknote into the basket, saying, "That's for the jollywood-fires you made for me, " and then turned quickly toward Annie toescape the profuse thanks impending. 

He had turned none too soon. The apple-boughs, relieved of the weightof the fruit and Jeff's solid person, threw out the heavy ladder thathad been placed too nearly in a perpendicular position at first. Ithad trembled and wavered a moment, but was now inclining over the veryspot where Annie was standing. 

"Miss Walton!" he cried, with a look of horror; rushed toward her, andstood with head bent down between her and the falling ladder. 

She heard a rushing sound, and then with a heavy thud the ladderstruck him, glanced to one side, grazing her shoulder, and fell to theground. 

He lay motionless beneath it. 

For a moment she gazed vacantly at him, too stunned to think or speak. 

But Jeff ran and lifted the ladder off Gregory, exclaiming, "Lor'bless him, Miss Annie, he jus' done save your life. "

She knelt at his side and took his hand, but it seemed that of thedead. She moaned, "The omen's true. His blood is on me now--his bloodis on me now. He died for my sake, and I called him selfish. "

She took his head into her lap, and put her hand over his heart. 

She thought she felt a faint pulsation. 

In a moment all trace of weakness vanished, and her face becameresolute and strong. 

"Jeff, " she said, in clear-cut, decided tones, "go to the house, tellHannah and Zibbie to come here; tell Hannah to bring brandy and astrong double blanket. Not a word of this to my father. Go, quick. "

Jeff ran as he had done once before when the bloodhounds were afterhim, saying under his breath all the way, "Lor' bless him! He saveMiss Annie's life; he orter have her sure 'nuff. "

Annie was left alone with the unconscious man. She pushed his hairfrom his damp brow, and, bending down, impressed a remorseful kissupon it. 

"God forgive me that I called you selfish, " she murmured. "Where isyour spirit wandering that I cannot call it back? O live, live; I cannever be happy if you die. Can this be the end? God keep my faith fromfailing. "

Again she put her hand over his heart, whose love she could doubt nomore. Did it beat? or was it only the excited throbbing of her ownhand?

Jeff now returned, and, with white, scared faces, the women soonfollowed. Annie tried to give Gregory brandy, but he did not seem toswallow it. They then lifted him on the blanket and carried him to thehouse, and up the back stairway to his room, so that Mr. Walton mightnot know. 

"Now, Jeff, " whispered Annie, "harness the fastest horse to the buggy, and bring the doctor--mind, bring him. Don't tell him to come. Hannah, tell Miss Eulie to come here--quietly now. Zibbie, bring hot water. "

Again she poured a teaspoonful of brandy into his mouth, and this timehe seemed to swallow it. She bathed his face and hands with spirits, while her every breath was a prayer. 

Miss Eulie did not want a long explanation. Annie's hurried words, "Aladder fell on him, " satisfied her, and she set to work, and moreeffectively with her riper experience. She took off his collar andopened his shirt at the throat, and soon, with a look of joy, toAnnie, said, "His heart beats distinctly. "

Again they gave him brandy, and this time he made a manifest effort toswallow it. 

With eyes aglow with excitement and hope they re-doubled theirexertions, Hannah and Zibbie helping, and at last they were rewardedby seeing their patient make a faint movement. 

Now with every breath Annie silently sent the words heavenward, "OGod, I thank thee. "

She bent over him, and said, in a low, thrilling tone, "Mr. Gregory. "A happy smile came out upon his face, but this was the only response. 

"Do you think he is conscious?" she whispered to her aunt. 

"I hardly know. Let me give him a little more stimulant. "

After receiving it he suddenly opened his eyes and looked fearfullyaround. Then he tried to rise, but fell back, and asked, faintly, "Where is Miss Walton? Is she safe? I heard her voice. "

"You did. I'm here. Don't you know me?"

"Are you really here unhurt?"

"Yes, yes, " she answered, eagerly; "thanks to you. "

Again he closed his eyes with a strange and quiet smile. 

"Can't you see me?" she asked. 

"There seems a blur before my eyes. It does not signify. I know yourvoice, so true and kind. "

"Why can't he see?" she asked, drawing her aunt aside. 

"I don't know. What I fear most are internal injuries. Did the ladderstrike his head?"

"O merciful Heaven!" said Annie, again in an agony of fear. "I don'tknow. Oh, if he should die--if he should die--" and she wrung herhands with terror at the thought. 

The doctor now stepped lightly in. Jeff had told him enough to excitethe gravest apprehensions. He made a few inquiries and felt Gregory'spulse. 

"It's very feeble, " he said. "More brandy. "

Then he added, "I must make such examination as I can now withoutdisturbing him much. Miss Morton, you and Jeff stay and help me. "

Annie went down to her father with a greater anxiety as to the resultof the examination than if the danger had been her own. 

She found her father awake, and wondering at the sounds in the roomabove. 

"Annie, " he said, feebly, "what is going on in Mr. Gregory's room?"

As she looked at him, she saw that he was not better, as she hoped, but that his face had a shrunken look, betokening the rapid failing ofthe vital forces. The poor girl felt that trouble was coming like anavalanche, and in spite of herself she sat down, and, burying her facein her father's bosom, sobbed aloud. But she soon realized the injuryshe might do him in thus giving way, and by a great effort controlledherself so as to tell him the softened outlines of the accident. Butthe ashen hue deepened on the old man's face, as he said, fervently, "God bless him! God bless him! He has saved my darling's life. Whatshould I have done in these last days without you?"

"But, father, don't you think he will get well?" she asked, eagerly. 

"I hope so. I pray so, my child. But I know the ladder, and it is aheavy one. This is time for faith in God. We cannot see a hand's-breadth in the darkness before us. He has been very merciful to usthus far, very merciful, and no doubt has some wise, good purpose inthese trials and dangers. Just cling to Him, my child, and all will bewell. "

"O father, how you comfort me! We must leave everything in His hands. But, father, you feel better, do you not?"

"Yes, much better; not much pain now; and yet for some reason I feelthat I shall soon be where pain never comes. How otherwise can Iexplain my almost mortal weakness?"

Annie again hid her tearful eyes on the bedside. Her father placed hishand upon her bowed head and continued, "It won't break your heart, mylittle girl, will it, to have your father go to heaven?"

But she could not answer him. 

At last the doctor came down, and said, "His injuries are certainlyserious, and may be more so than I can yet discover. The ladder grazedhis head, inflicting some injury, and struck him on the shoulder, which is much bruised, and the collar-bone is badly broken. The wholesystem has received a tremendous shock, but I hope that with good carehe will pull through. But he must be kept very quiet in mind and body. And so must you, sir. Now you know all, and have nothing to suspect. It's often injurious kindness to half hide something from the sick. "

"Well, doctor, do your very best by him, as if he were my own son. Youknow what a debt of gratitude we owe him. Spare no expense. If heneeds anything, let it be sent for. If I were only up and around; butthe Lord wills it otherwise. "

Annie followed the physician out and said, "You have told us the veryworst then?"

"Yes, Miss Walton, the very worst. Unless there are injuries that Icannot now detect I think he will get better. I will send a young manwhom I can trust to take care of him. Best assured I will do all thatis possible, for I feel very grateful to this stranger for saving mymuch-esteemed little friend. I suppose you know we all think a greatdeal of you in our neighborhood, and I shudder to think how near wecame to a general mourning. You see he was nearer the base of theladder than you, Jeff says. The ladder therefore would have struck youwith greater force, and you would not have had a ghost of a chance. You ought to be very grateful, eh, Miss Annie?" he added, with alittle sly fun in his face. 

But she shook her head sadly, and only said with deep feeling, "I amvery, very grateful. " Then she added, quickly, "What about father?"

The doctor's face changed instantly and became grave. 

"I don't quite understand his case. He was threatened with pneumonia;but there seems no acute disease now, and yet he appears to befailing. The excitement and exposure of the other night were too muchfor him. You must make him take all the nourishment possible. Medicineis of no use. "

Agitated by conflicting fears and hopes Annie went to the kitchen tomake something that might tempt her father's appetite. 

Blessed are the petty and distracting cares of the household, thehomely duties of the sick-room. They divert the mind and break theforce of the impending blow. If, when illness and death invade ahouse, the fearing and sorrowing ones had naught to do but sit downand watch the remorseless approach of the destroyer, they might gomad. 

When Annie stole noiselessly back to Gregory's room he was sleeping, though his breathing seemed difficult. 

What a poor mockery the dinner hour was! Even the children wereoppressed by the general gloom and talked in whispers. But before itwas over there came a bright ray of light to Annie in the form of atelegram from Hunting, saying that he had arrived in New York safely, and would be at the village on the 5 P. M. Train. 

"O I am so glad!" cried Annie; "never was he so needed before. "

And yet there was a remorseful twinge at her heart as she thought ofGregory. But she felt sure of reconciliation now, for would notHunting overwhelm her preserver with gratitude, and forgive everythingin the past?

She said to Jeff, "Have Dolly and the low buggy ready for me at half-past four. "

Her father seemed peculiarly glad when he heard that his relative, theman he hoped would soon be his son, was coming. 

"It's all turning out for the best, " he said, softly. 

The hour soon came, for it was already late, and Annie slipped away, leaving both her father and Gregory sleeping. To her great joy Huntingstepped down from the train and was quickly seated by her side. Asthey drove away in the dusk he could not forbear a rapturous kiss andembrace which she did not resist. 

"O Charles, I'm so glad you've come--so very glad!" she exclaimedalmost breathlessly; "and I've so much to tell you that I hardly knowwhere to begin. How good God is to send you to me now, just when Ineed you most!"

"So you find that you can't do without me altogether? That's grandnews. How I've longed for this hour! If I'd had my own way I wouldhave exploded the boilers in my haste to reach port to see you again. It was real good of you to come, and not send for me. Come Annie, celebrate my return by the promise that you will soon make a home forme. I am happy to say that I can now give you the means of making it aprincely one. "

"I haven't the time nor the heart to think about that now, Charles. Father is very ill. I'm exceedingly anxious about him. "

"Indeed!" said Hunting, "that is bad news;" and yet his grief was notvery deep, for he thought, "If she is left alone she will come to meat once. "

"What is more, " cried Annie, a little hurt at the quiet manner inwhich he received her tidings, "suppose, instead of meeting me strongand well, you had found me a crushed and lifeless corpse to-night?"

"Annie, " he said, "what do you mean?"

"I mean that this would have been true but for one with whom I amsorry you are on bad terms. Walter Gregory is at our house. "

He gave a great start at the mention of this name, and even in thedeep twilight his face seemed very white. 

"I don't understand, " he almost gasped. 

"I knew you would be deeply affected, " said the unsuspicious Annie. "He stood between me and death to-day, and it may cost him his ownlife. He was severely injured--how badly we can hardly tell yet;" andshe rapidly related all that had occurred. "And now, Charles, " sheconcluded, "no matter what he may have done, or how deeply he may havewronged you, I'm sure you'll do everything in your power to effect acomplete reconciliation, and cement a lasting friendship. If possible, you must become his untiring nurse. How much you owe him!"

She noticed that he was trembling. After a moment he asked, hesitatingly, "Has he--how long has he been here, did you say?"

"About three weeks. You know our place was his old home, and hisfather was a very dear friend of my father. "

"If I knew it I had forgotten it, " he answered, with a chill of feargrowing deeper every moment. "Did he--has he said anything about ourdifficulties?"

"Nothing definite, " said she, a little wonderingly at Hunting'smanner. "Father happened to mention your name the first evening of hisarrival, and the bitter enmity that came out upon his face quitestartled me. You know well that I wouldn't hear a word against you. Heonce commenced saying something to your prejudice, but I stopped himand said I would neither listen to nor believe him--that he did notknow you, and was entirely mistaken in his judgment. It was evident tous that Mr. Gregory was not a good man. Indeed, he made no pretence ofbeing one; but he has changed since, as yon can well understand, or hecouldn't have sacrificed himself as he has to-day. I told father thatI thought the cause of your trouble arose from your trying to restrainhim in some of his fast ways, but he thought it resulted from businessrelations. "

"You were both right, " said Hunting, slowly, as if he were feeling hisway along. "He was inclined to be very dissipated, and I used toremonstrate with him; but the immediate cause was a businessdifficulty. He would have kept me out of a great deal of money if hecould. "

His words were literally true, but they gave an utterly falseimpression. Annie was satisfied, however. It seemed a naturalexplanation, and she trusted Hunting implicitly. Indeed, with hernature, love could scarcely exist without trust. 

"That's all past now, " said Annie, eagerly. "You surely will not letit weigh with you a moment. Indeed, Charles, I shall expect you to doeverything in your power to make that man your friend. "

"O, certainly, I could not act otherwise, " he said, rather absently. He was scheming with desperate earnestness to meet and avert theimpending dangers. Annie's frank and cordial reception showed him thatso far as she was concerned he was as yet safe. But he knew her wellenough to feel sure that if she detected falsehood in him his casewould be nearly hopeless. He recognized that he was walking on a minethat at any moment might be sprung. With his whole soul he loved AnnieWalton, and it would be worse than death to lose her. The thought ofher had made every gross temptation fall harmless at his feet, andeven his insatiate love of wealth had been mingled with the dearerhope that it would eventually minister to her happiness. But he hadlived so long in the atmosphere of Wall Street that his ideas ofcommercial integrity had become exceedingly blurred. When aquestionable course opened by which he could make money, he could notresist the temptation. He tried to satisfy himself that businessrequired such action, and called his sharp practice by the fine namesof skill, sagacity. But when on his visits to Annie, which, of late, during the worst of his transactions, had been frequent rather thanprolonged, he had had a growing sense of humiliation and fear. He sawthat she could never be made to look upon his affair with Burnett &Co. As he regarded it, and that her father was the soul of commercialhonor. Though Mr. Walton's fortune was moderate, not a penny had cometo him stained. After these visits Hunting would go back to the city, resolved to quit everything illegitimate and become in his businessand other relations just what he seemed to them. But some glitteringtemptation would assail him. He would make one more adroit shuffle ofthe cards, and then, from being hollow, would become morally andreligiously sound at once. 

During his voyage home, there was time for thought. A severe gale, while lashing the sea into threatening waves, had also disturbed hisguilty conscience. He had amassed sufficient to satisfy even his greedof gold for the present, and his calculating soul hinted that it wastime to begin to put away a little stock in heaven as well as onearth. He resolved that he would withdraw from the whirlpool of WallStreet speculation and engage in only legitimate operations. Moreover, he began to long for the refuge and more quiet joys of home, and hefelt, as did poor Gregory, that Annie of all women could do most tomake him happy here and fit him for the future life. Therefore he hadreturned with the purpose of pressing his suit for a speedy marriageas strongly as a safe policy would permit. 

The bright October day of his arrival in New York seemed emblematic ofhis hopes and prospects, and now again the deepening night, the risingwind, and the wildly hurrying clouds but mirrored back himself. 

His safest and wisest course would have been to make an honestconfession to Annie of the wrong he had done Gregory. As his mindrecovered from its first confusion this thought occurred to him. Buthe had already given her the impression that he had received thewrong, or rather that it had been attempted against him. Moreover, byany truthful confession he would stand convicted of deceiving andswindling Burnett & Co. He justly feared that Annie would break withhim the moment she learned this. So like all schemers, he temporized, and left his course open to be decided by circumstances rather thanprinciple. 

His first course was to learn of Annie all that he could concerningGregory and his visit, so that he might act in view of the fullestknowledge possible. She told him frankly what had occurred, so far astime permitted during their ride home. But of Gregory's love she didnot speak, and was perplexed as to her proper course. Loyalty to herlover seemed to require that he should know all, and yet she was surethat Gregory would not wish her to speak of it, and she owed so muchto him that she felt she could not do what was contrary to his wishes. But Hunting well surmised that, whether Annie knew it or not, Gregorycould not have been in her society three weeks and go away anindifferent stranger. 

"Jeff can give me more light, " he thought. 

Conscious of deceit himself, he distrusted every one, even crystal-souled Annie. 

CHAPTER XXIX

DEEPENING SHADOWS

Mr. Walton received Hunting in a fatherly way. Indeed, he looked uponthe young man as a son, and the thought of leaving Annie to hisprotection was an unspeakable comfort. 

Altogether Hunting was reassured by his reception, which proved thathis relations were as yet undisturbed. But in the depths of his soulhe trembled at the presence of Gregory in the house; and when MissEulie came down and said, after an affectionate greeting, that Gregorywas in something like a stupor, he was even base enough to wish thathe might never come out of it. 

At the word "stupor, " Annie's face grew pale. She had a growingdissatisfaction with Hunting's manner in regard to Gregory, and feltthat he did not feel or show the interest or gratitude that he ought;but there was nothing tangible with which she could tax him. 

The doctor, who came early in the evening, reassured her, and saidthat the state of partial consciousness was not necessarily adangerous symptom, as it might be the result of a severe shock. Theyoung man he brought was installed as nurse under Miss Eulie's charge, and Annie said that Mr. Hunting would also take his turn as watcher. 

Then she, Mr. Hunting, and her father had a long talk over what hadhappened in his absence, Mr. Walton dwelling most feelingly on what heregarded as the providential character of the visit from the son ofhis old friend. 

"If he never leaves our house alive, I have a strong assurance that hewill join his father in the better home. Indeed, I may soon be therewith them. "

"Please don't talk so, father, " pleaded Annie. 

"Well, my child, perhaps it's best I should, and prepare your mindsfor what may be near. It's a great consolation to see Charles again, and he will help you bear whatever is God's will. "

"You can trust her to me, " said Hunting, fervently. "I have amplemeans to gratify her most extravagant wish, and my love will shelterher and think for her even as yours would. But I trust you will soonshare our home with us. "

"I expect to, my children, but it will be our eternal home. "

Annie strove bravely to keep her tears back, for her father's sake, but they would come. 

"Annie, " said Hunting, "won't you please let your father put this ringon your engagement finger?" and he gave Mr. Walton a magnificentsolitaire diamond. 

Mr. Walton took his daughter's hand, and looked earnestly into hertearful, blushing face. 

"Annie, " he said, in a grave, sweet tone, "I hope for your sake that Imay be wrong, but I have a presentiment that my pilgrimage is nearlyended. You have made its last stage very happy. A good daughter makesa good wife, Mr. Hunting; and, Annie, dear, I shall tell your motherthat you supplied her place, as far as a daughter could. It will addgreatly to my peace if I can leave you and my sister, and the dearlittle ones, under the care of one so competent to protect and providefor you all. Mr. Hunting, do you feel that you can take them to yourhome and heart, with my daughter?"

"Certainly, " said Hunting. "I had no other thought; and Annie's willshall be supreme in her future home. "

"But, after all, the chief question is, Does this ring join yourhearts? I'm sure I'm right in thinking so, Annie?"

"Yes, " she said, in a low tone. 

Slowly, with his feeble, trembling hands he put the flashing gem onAnnie's finger, and then placed her hand in Hunting's, and, lookingsolemnly to heaven, said, "May God bless this betrothal as your fatherblesses it. "

Hunting stooped and kissed her hand and then her lips. With mingledtruth and policy, he said, "This ceremony is more solemn and bindingto me than the one yet to come at the altar. "

Annie was happy in her engagement. It was what she expected, and hadbeen consummated in a way that seemed peculiarly sweet and sacred; andyet her thoughts, with a remorseful tinge, would keep recurring to theman who even then might be dying for her sake. 

After they had sat a little while in silence, which is often the bestexpression of deep feeling, she suddenly said, with an involuntarysigh, "Poor Mr. Gregory! I'm so sorry for him!"

Thus Hunting knew where her thoughts were, and instantly the purposeformed itself in his mind to induce her through her father to consentto an immediate marriage. He saw more plainly than Annie the greatchange in her father, and based his hope on the fact that the parentmight naturally wish to give his child a legal protector before hepassed away. 

Mr. Walton now showed such signs of weariness that they left him inMiss Eulie's care, who seemed to flit like a ministering spiritbetween the two patients. 

After the great excitement of the day, Annie, too, was very weary, andsoon the household sought such rest as was possible with two of itsinmates apparently very near the boundaries that separate the knownworld from the unknown. Glimmering all night long, like signals ofdistress at sea, the faint lights of the watchers reminded latepassers-by of the perilous nature of earthly voyaging. 

Annie had gone with Miss Eulie to take a parting look at Gregory. Shebent over him and said, "Mr. Gregory, " but his spirit seemed to havesunk into such far depths that even her voice could not summon him. 

"Oh, if he should die now!" she moaned, shudderingly, and on the nightof her engagement sobbed herself to sleep. 

The next morning saw little change in the patients, save that Mr. Walton was evidently weaker. Miss Eulie said that Gregory had rousedup during the night and seemed perfectly conscious. He had inquiredafter Mr. Walton and Annie, but toward morning had fallen into his oldlethargy. 

After breakfast Annie took Hunting up to see him, but was pained atthe darkening of her lover's face as he looked at the prostrate andunconscious man. She could not understand it. He seemed to have nowish to remain. She felt almost indignant, and yet what could she saymore than she had said? Gregory's condition, and the cause, shouldnaturally plead for him beyond all words. 

Annie spent most of the day with her father, and purposed watchingwith him that night. The doctor came and reported more favorably ofGregory, but said that everything depended upon his being quiet. Anniepurposed that Hunting should commence the duties of watcher as soon aspossible. Therefore she told her aunt to tell Gregory, as soon as shethought it would answer, that Hunting had arrived. In the afternoon, Gregory seemed to come out of his lethargy more decidedly than he hadbefore, and took some nourishment with marked relish. Then he layquietly looking at the fire. 

"Do you feel better now?" Miss Eulie asked, gently. 

"I'm sure I don't know, " he answered, wearily. "I have a numb, strangefeeling. "

"Would you like to see Miss Walton?"

"No, not now; I am satisfied to know she is well. "

"She wished me to tell you that Mr. Hunting had arrived. "

He turned away his face with a deep scowl, but said nothing. 

After some time she came to his side and said, "Is there anything youwould like?"

"Nothing, " he replied, gently. "I appreciate your great kindness. "

Miss Eulie sighed and left the room, feeling dimly that there wereinternal injuries after all, but such as were beyond the doctor'sskill. 

Annie echoed her sigh when she heard how he received Miss Eulie'sinformation. She determined to prepare and take him his supper. 

When she noiselessly entered, he was again looking fixedly at thefire. But she had not advanced far into the room before he recognizedher step and looked up quickly. 

"See, " she said, cheerily, coming to his side, "I've prepared andbrought you this supper with my own hands, and shall expect in returnthat you compliment it highly. Now, isn't it a good supper?" sheasked, holding it before him. 

But his eyes fastened on the glittering and significant ring, whosemeaning he too well understood. With an expression of intense pain heturned his face to the wall without a word. 

"Mr. Gregory, " pleaded Annie, "I never thought you would turn awayfrom me. "

"Not from you, not from you, " he said, in a low tone, "but I'm veryweak, and the light of that diamond is too strong for me yet. "

"Forgive me, " she said, in a tone of deep reproach; "I did not think. "

"No, forgive me. Please leave me now, and remember in charity how weakI am. "

She put the tray down and hastened from the room. He ate no supperthat night, neither did she. Hunting watched her gloomily, with bothfear and jealousy at heart. The latter, however, was groundless, forAnnie's feeling was only that of profound sorrow for something shecould not help. But lack of strongly manifested interest and sympathyfor Gregory injured him in her estimation; for woman-like sheunconsciously took the side of the one he wronged. She couldunderstand Gregory's enmity, but it seemed to her that Hunting shouldbe full of generous enthusiasm for one who was suffering so much inher behalf. 

"Men are so strange!" she said, half-vexedly. "They fall in lovewithout the slightest provocation, and hate each other forever, when awoman would have sharp words and be over with it. They never do whatyou would naturally expect. "

During the day Hunting had found time to see Jeff alone, but had foundhim inclined to be sullen and uncommunicative. Jeff had changed sides, and was now an ardent adherent of Gregory's, who had given him fivedollars without imposing any conditions; and then, what was of fargreater import, had saved the house and Annie's life, and, accordingto Jeff's simple views of equity, he ought to have both. And yet acertain rude element of honesty made him feel that he had made abargain with Hunting, and that he must fulfil his part and then theywould be quits. But he was not disposed to do it with a very goodgrace. So when Hunting said, "Well, Jeff, I suppose you've seen a gooddeal since I was last here. "

"Yes, I've seen a mighty lot, " said Jeff, sententiously. 

"Well, Jeff, you remember our agreement. What did you see? Only thetruth now. "

"Sartin, sah, only de truf. I'se belong to de Walton family, and yousdoesn't get nothin' but de truf from dem. "

"All right, Jeff; I'm glad your employers have so good an influence onyou. Well?"

"I'se seen Misser Gregory on de roof, " said Jeff, drawing on hisimagination, as he had only heard about that event through Zibbie'shighly colored story, "where some other folks wouldn't dar go, and nowI'se see dat house dar, which I wouldn't see dar, wasn't it for MisserGregory. "

"Well, well, " said Hunting, impatiently, "I've heard all about that. What else?"

"I'se seen Miss Annie roun' all day bloomin' and sweet as a rose, andI'se seen how she might have been a crushed white lily, " Jeffcontinued, solemnly, with a rhetorical wave of the hand. 

There existed in Jeff the raw material of a colored preacher, only itwas very crude and undeveloped. But upon any important occasion healways grew rhetorical and figurative in his language. 

"Come, come, Jeff, tell me something new. "

"Well, " said Jeff, "since I'se promised to tell you, and since I'sespent de ten dollars, and hasn't got it to give you back again, I'seseen Misser Gregory las' Sunday evenin', a kneelin' afore Miss Annieas if he was a sayin' his prayers to her, and I shouldn't wonder ifshe heard 'em (with a chuckle); anyhow she wasn't lofty and scornful, and Misser Gregory he's looked kinder glorified ever since; afore thathe looked glum, and Miss Annie, she's been kinder bendin' toward himsince dat evenin', like a rosebud wid de dew on it. "

Hunting's face darkened with suppressed anger and jealousy. After amoment he said, "Is that all?"

"Dat's all. "

"Well, Jeff, here's ten dollars more, and look sharper than ever now. "

"'Scuse me, Misser Hunting. We'se squar' now. I'se done what I agreed, and now I'se gwine out ob de business. "

"Has Gregory engaged your services?" asked Hunting, quickly. 

"No, sah, he hab not. I reckon Misser Gregory tink he doesn't need anyhelp. "

"Why won't you do as I wish, then?"

"Well, Mr. Hunting, it kinder makes me feel bad here, " said Jeff, rubbing his hand indefinitely over several physical organs. "I don'tjes' believe Miss Annie would like it, and after seein' Mr. Gregoryunder dat pesky ladder, I couldn't do nothin' dat he wouldn't like. Ifit hadn't been for him I'd sorter felt as if I'd killed Miss Annie byleavin' dat doggoned ladder so straight up, and I nebber could habgone out in de dark agin all my life. "

"Why, you old black fool, " said Hunting, irritably, "don't you knowI'm going to marry Miss Annie? You'd better keep on the right side ofme. "

"Which is de right side?" Jeff could not forbear saying, with asuppressed chuckle. 

"Come, sir, no impudence. You won't serve me any more then?"

"Oh yes, Misser Hunting. I'se black yer boots, make de fire, harnessde hoss, do anything dat won't hurt in here, " with a gesture thatseemed to indicate the pit of his stomach. "Anything more, please'scuse me. "

"You will not speak of what has passed between us?"

"I'se given my word, " said Jeff, drawing himself up, "de word ob onedat belongs to de Waltons. "

Hunting turned on his heel and strode away. Annie had given one aspectto the scene on that Sabbath evening, and Jeff had innocently givenanother. Hunting was not loyal enough even to such a woman as Annie tobelieve her implicitly. But it is the curse of conscious deceit tobreed suspicion. Only the true can have absolute faith in the truth ofothers. Moreover, Hunting, in his hidden selfishness and worldlinesscould not understand Annie's ardent effort to save a fellow-creaturefrom sin. Skilled in the subtle impulses of the heart, he believedthat Annie, unconsciously even to herself, was drifting toward the manhe hated all the more because he had wronged him, while the danger ofhis presence made him almost vindictive. Yet he realized the necessityof disguising his feelings, for if Annie discovered them he might welldread the consequence. But the idea of watching alone with Gregory wasrevolting. It suggested dark thoughts which he tried to put from himin horror, for he was far from being a hardened villain. He was only aman who had gradually formed the habit of acting from expedience andself-interest, instead of principle. Such a rule of life often placesus where expedience and self-interest require deeds that are blackindeed. 

But he was saved from the ordeal of spending hours alone with a manwho even in his helplessness might injure him beyond remedy, for onthe following morning Annie again sought Gregory's room bent onsecuring reconciliation at once. She felt that she could endure thisestrangement no longer. 

The young man employed as watcher was out at the time. 

Gregory was gazing at the fire with the same look of listless apathy. A deep flush overspread his deathly pale face as she came and sat downbeside him, but he did not turn from her. 

"Mr. Gregory, " she said, very gently, "it seems that I can do nothingbut receive favors from you, and I've come now to ask a great one. "

He suspected something concerning Hunting, and his face darkenedforbiddingly. Though Annie noted this, she would not be denied. 

"Do you think, " she said, earnestly, "that, after your sacrifice forme, I can ever cease to be your friend in the truest and strongestsense?"

"Miss Walton, " he said, calmly, "I've made no sacrifice for you. Thethought of that episode in the orchard is my one comfort while lyinghere, and will be through what is left of life. But please do notspeak of it, for it will become a pain to me if I see the obligationis a burden to you. "

"It is not, " she said, eagerly. "I'm glad to owe my life to you. Butdo you think I can go on my way and forget you?"

"It's the very best you can do, Miss Walton. "

"But I tell you it's impossible. Thank God, it's not my nature to doit!"

He turned toward her with a wistful, searching look. 

"We must carry out our old agreement, " continued Annie. "We must beclose and lasting friends. You should not blame me for an attachmentformed years ago. "

"I do not blame you. "

"Then you should not punish me so severely. You first make yourfriendship needful to me, and then you deny it. "

"I am _your_ friend, and more. "

"How can we enjoy a frank and happy friendship through coming years, after--after--you feel differently from what you do now, when you willnot even hear the name of him who will one day be my second self?"

Again his face darkened; but she continued rapidly, "Mr. Hunting isdeeply grateful to you, and would like to express his feelings inperson. He wishes to bury the past--"

"He will, with me, soon, " interrupted Gregory, gloomily. 

"No; please do not speak in that way, " she pleaded. "He wishes to makewhat little return he can, and offers to watch with you night andday. "

He turned upon her almost fiercely, and said, "Are you too in leaguewith my evil destiny, in that you continually persecute me with thatman? Miss Walton, I half doubt whether you know what love means, oryou would not make such a proposition. Let me at least die quietly. With the memory of the past and the knowledge of the present, hispresence in my room would be death by torture. Pardon me, but let usend this matter once for all. We have both been unfortunate, you ininspiring a love that you cannot return; I in permitting my heart togo from me, beyond recall, before learning that my passion would behopeless. I do not see that either of us has been to blame, youcertainly not in the slightest degree. But, however vain, my love isan actual fact, and I cannot act as if it were not. As well might aman with a mortal wound smile and say it's but a scratch. I cannotchange my mind merely in view of expedience and invest such feelingsin another way. The fact of my love is now a past disaster, and I mustbear the consequences with such fortitude as I can. But what you askwould drive me mad. If I should live, possibly in the future I mightmeet you often without the torturing regret I now feel. But to make asmiling member of Charles Hunting's friendly circle would require onmy part the baldest hypocrisy; and I can't do it, and won't try. Ifthat man comes into my room, I will crawl out if I can. "

He was trembling with excitement, his face flushed and feverish, andhis eyes unnaturally bright. 

"And you banish me too, " said Annie, hurt and alarmed at the sametime. 

"Yes, yes; forgive me for saying so. Yes; till I'm stronger. See howI've spoken to you. I've no self-control. "

She was most reluctant to go, and stood a moment, hesitating. Timidlyshe ventured to quote the line:

"Earth has no sorrows that Heaven cannot cure. "

"That's a comforting fact for those who are going there, " he said, coldly. 

With a sudden burst of passionate grief she stooped and kissed hishand, then fled to her own room, and cried as if her heart wouldbreak. It seemed as if he were lost to her and heaven, and yet he wascapable of being so noble and good!

Miss Eulie entered Gregory's room soon after, and was alarmed at hisfeverish and excited appearance. She decided that Annie's visits mustcease for the present. However, she took no apparent notice of hisdisturbed condition, but immediately gave a remedy to ward off fever, and a strong opiate, which, with the reaction and his weakness, causedhim to sink back into something like his old lethargy. 

Hunting had spent the morning with Mr. Walton, preparing his mind forthe plan of immediate marriage. He found the failing man not averse tothe project, as his love ought to secure to Annie every help andsolace possible. 

After Annie had removed from her face, to the best of her ability, every trace of her emotion, she came down and took her place at herfather's side, intending to leave it only when compelled to. Huntingknew of her mission to Gregory, and looked at her inquiringly, but shesadly shook her head. He tried to look hurt, but only succeeded inlooking angry. He soon controlled himself, however, though he notedwith deep uneasiness Annie's sad face and red eyes. Mr. Waltonfortunately was dozing and needed no explanation. 

That night he was much worse, and had some very serious symptoms. Annie did not leave his side. But toward morning he rallied and fellinto a quiet sleep. Then she took a little rest. 

The next day she was told that there was a gentleman in the parlor whowished to see her. The stranger proved to be one of Gregory'spartners, Mr. Seymour, who courteously said, "I should have been herebefore, but the senior partner, Mr. Burnett, is unable to attend tobusiness at present, and I came away the first moment I could leave. Ifelt sure also that everything would be done that could be. I hope theinjury is not so serious as was first supposed. "

"You may rest assured that we have tried to do everything, " saidAnnie, gravely, "but Mr. Gregory is in a very precarious condition. You would like to see him, I suppose. "

"If I can with safety to him. "

"I think a brief interview may do him good. He needs rallying. "

At that moment Hunting, not knowing who was present, entered. Bothgentleman started, but Mr. Seymour gave no sign of recognition, nordid Hunting, though he could not at first hide a certain degree ofnervous agitation. Annie presented him. Mr. Seymour bowed stiffly, andsaid, rather curtly, "We have met before, " and then gave him nofurther attention, but continuing to address Annie, said, "I wellunderstand that Mr. Gregory needs rallying. That has been just hisneed for the last few months, during which time his health has beensteadily failing. I was in hopes he would come back--" and then hestopped, quite puzzled for a moment by the sudden change in Annie'smanner, which had become freezingly cold toward him, while there was alook of honest indignation upon her face. 

"Excuse me, sir, " she said, briefly. "I will send you my aunt, whowill attend to your wishes;" and she left Mr. Seymour standing in themiddle of the room, both confused and annoyed; but he at once surmisedthat it was on account of his manner toward Hunting, who sat down witha paper at the further side of the room, as if he were alone. 

But when, a moment later, Miss Eulie entered with her placid, unruffled face, Mr. Seymour could not be otherwise than perfectlypolite, and after a few words, followed her to Gregory's room. 

Annie at once came to Hunting and asked, "Why did that man act so?"

"Why, don't you see?" answered he, hastily. "Mr. Seymour is Mr. Gregory's partner. They all have the same reason for feeling hostiletoward me, though perhaps Gregory has special reasons, " he added, witha searching look. 

Annie blushed deeply at this allusion, but said with emphasis, "No manshall treat you in that way in my presence and still receive courtesyfrom me. "

But his jealous spirit had noticed her quick blush more than hergenerous resentment of the insult she supposed offered him. Thereforehe said, "Mr. Gregory would treat me worse if he got a chance. "

"But his case is different from any one's else, " she said, withanother quick flush. 

"Evidently so in your estimation. "

Then for the first time she noted his jealousy, and it hurt hersorely. She took a step nearer and looked very gravely into his facefor a moment without speaking, and then said, with that calmness whichis more effective than passion, "Charles, take care. I'm one that willbe trusted. Though it seems a light matter to you that he has saved mylife, at perhaps the cost of his own, it does not to me. "

The cool and usually cautious man had for once lost his poise, and hesaid, with sudden irritation, "I hear that and nothing else. What elsecould he have done? If you had stayed at your father's side you wouldhave been safe. He took you out to walk, and any man would have riskedhis life to bring you back safely. "

He now saw in Annie a spirit he could never control as he managedpeople in Wall Street, for, with a sudden flash in her eyes, she said, hotly, "I do not reason thus coldly about those to whom I owe somuch, " and abruptly left him. 

In bitterness of fear and self-reproach he at once realized hisblunder. He followed her, but she was with her father, and he couldnot speak there. He looked imploringly at her, but could not catch hereye, for she was deeply incensed. Had she not heard him she would nothave believed that he could be so ungenerous. 

He wrote on a scrap of paper, "Annie, forgive me. I humbly ask yourpardon. I'm not myself to-day, and that man's conduct, which you sonobly resented in my behalf, vexed me to that degree that I acted likea fool. I am not worthy of you, but you will perceive that my follyarises from my excess of love for you. I'm going for a walk. Pleasegreet me with pardon in your face on my return. "

Impulsive, loving, warm-hearted Annie could not resist such an appeal. She at once relented, and began to make a thousand better excuses forher lover than he could for himself. But she had taught him a lesson, and proved that she was not a weak, willowy creature that would clingto him no matter what he was or did. He saw that he must seem to beworthy of her. 

Gregory greeted his partner with a momentary glow of gratitude that hehad come so far to see him, and began talking about his business. 

"Not a word of that, old fellow, " said Mr. Seymour. "Your business isto get well. It seems to me that you have everything here for comfort--good medical attendance, eh?"

"Yes; if anything, too much is done for me. "

"I don't understand just how it happened. "

Gregory told him briefly. 

"By Jove! this Miss Walton ought to be very grateful to you. "

"She is too grateful. "

"I don't know about that. I met that infernal Hunting downstairs. Ofcourse I couldn't treat him with politeness, and do you know thelittle lady spunked up about it to that degree that she almost turnedher back upon me and left the room. "

"Of course, " said Gregory, coolly, shielding his secret by a desperateeffort; "they are engaged. "

"Oh, I understand now. Well, I rather like her spirit. Does she knowhow accomplished her lover is in Wall Street?"

"No. Hunting is a distant relative of the family. They believe him tobe a gentleman, and would not listen to a word against him. "

"But they ought to know. He lied like a scoundrel to us, and in yourtrying all summer to make up the losses, he has nearly been the deathof you. I wouldn't let my daughter marry him though he had enoughmoney to break the Street: and it is a pity that a fine girl, as thisMiss Walton seems, should throw herself away on him. "

"Well, Seymour, that's not our affair, " said Gregory, pale and faintfrom his effort at self-control. "They would listen to nothing. "

"Well, good-by, old fellow. I see it won't do to talk with you anymore. Get well as soon as you can, for we want you woefully in town. Get well, and carry off this Miss Walton yourself. It would be a neatway of turning the tables on Hunting. "

"Don't set your heart on seeing me at the office again, " said Gregory, feelingly. "I have a presentiment that I shan't pull through this, andI don't much care. Give my kindest regards to Mr. Burnett, and tellhim I shall think of him to the last as among my best friends. "

Seymour made a few hearty remonstrances against such a state of mind, and took his departure with many misgivings. Gregory relapsed into hisold dreary apathy. Life had so many certain ills that upon the wholehe felt he would rather die. But he was too stunned and weak to thinkmuch, save when Annie came to him. Her presence was always life, butnow it was a sharp revival of the consciousness of his loss. Left tohimself, his mind sank down into a sort of painless lethargy, fromwhich he did not wish to be aroused. 

Mr. Walton passed a quieter night, but was clearly failing fast. Hesent frequent messages of love and sympathy to Gregory, and had anabiding faith that all would be well with him in the next life, if notin this. Annie had not the heart to undeceive him. When he thought ita little strange that Hunting was not with Gregory, Annie explained bysaying that the doctor insisted on perfect quiet of mind, and thepresence of Hunting might unpleasantly revive old memories, and sounduly excite him. 

After the physician saw his patients the following morning, he lookedgrave and dissatisfied. Annie followed him to the door, and said, "Doctor, I don't like the expression of your face. "

"Well, Miss Annie, " said the doctor, discontentedly, "I've a difficulttask on my hands, in trying to cure two patients that make no effortto live. Your father seems homesick for heaven, and mere drugs can'trouse Mr. Gregory out of his morbid, gloomy apathy. I could get himashore if he would strike out for himself, but he just floats downstream like driftwood. But really I'm doing all that can be done, Ithink. "

"I believe you are, " she said, sadly. "Good-by. "

"O merciful God!" she exclaimed when alone. "What shall I do--whatshall I do to save him? Father's going to heaven and mother. Where is_he_ going?"

CHAPTER XXX

KEPT FROM THE EVIL

With the light of the following day Annie gave up all hope of herfather's recovery. He was sinking fast, and conscious himself thatdeath was near. But his end was like the coming into harbor of astately ship after a long, successful voyage. He looked death in theface with that calmness and dignity, that serene certainty that it wasa change for the better, which Christian faith alone can inspire. Hisonly solicitude was for those he was leaving, and yet he had no deepanxiety, for his strong faith committed them trustingly to God. 

Annie tried to feel resigned, since it was God's will. But the tiethat bound her to him was so tender, so interwoven with every fibre ofher heart, that she shrunk with inexpressible pain from its sundering. She knew that she was not losing her father, that the worst beforethem was but a brief separation, but how could she, who had lived somany happy years at his side, endure even this? It seemed as if shecould not let him go, and in the strong, passionate yearning of herheart, she was almost ready to leave youth, friends, lover, and all, to go with him. 

She was one who lived in her affections rather than her surroundings. The latter would matter little to her could she keep her heart-treasures. It would have touched the coldest to see how she clung tohim toward the last. All else was forgotten, even Gregory, who mightbe dying also. The instinct of nature was strong, and her father wasfirst. 

Moreover, the relation between this parent and child was peculiarlyclose, for they were not only in perfect sympathy in views, character, and faith, but Annie had stepped to the side of the widowed man yearsbefore and sought successfully to fill the place of one who hadreached home before him. Though so young, she had been his companionand daily friend, interesting herself in that which interested him, and thus he had been saved from that terrible loneliness which oftenbreaks the heart even in the midst of a household. It was thereforewith a love beyond words that his eyes rested most of the time on herand followed her every movement. 

She also had a vague and peculiar dread in looking forward to herbereavement. An anticipating sense of isolation and loneliness chilledher heart. 

Though she would not openly admit it to herself, Hunting haddisappointed her since his return. She did not get from him thesupport and Christian sympathy she expected. She tried to excuse him, and charged herself with being too exacting, and yet the sense ofsomething wanting pained her. She had hoped that in these dark days hewould be serene and strong, and yet abounding in the tenderestsympathy. She had expected words of faith and consolation that wouldhave sustained her spirit, fainting under a double and peculiarsorrow. She had felt sure that before this his just gratitude, like atorrent, would have overwhelmed and destroyed Gregory's enmity. Butall had turned out so differently! Instead of being a help, he hadalmost added to her burden by his hostile feeling toward herpreserver, which he had not been able wholly to disguise. Such afeeling on his part seemed both unnatural and wrong. He professedhimself ready to do anything she wished for Gregory, but it was in ahalf-hearted way, to oblige her, and not for the sake of the injuredman. When she went to him for Christian consolation, his words, thoughwell-chosen, lacked heartiness and the satisfying power of truth. 

Why this was so can be well understood. Hunting could not give what hedid not possess. Of necessity there would be a hollow ring when hespoke of that which he did not understand or feel. During his briefvisits, and in his carefully written letters, he could appear all shewished. He could honestly show his sincere love for her, and there wasno special opportunity to show anything else. In her vivid, lovingimagination she supplied all else, and she believed that when theywere more together, or in affliction, he would reveal more distinctlyhis deeper and religious nature, for such a nature he professed tohave; and his letters, which could be written deliberately, aboundedin Christian sentiment. Self-deceived, he meant to be honestlyreligious as soon as he could afford to give up his questionablespeculations. 

But when a man least expects it the test and strain will come, thatclearly manifest the character of his moral stamina. It had now cometo Hunting, and though he strove with all the force and adroitness ofa resolute will and though he was a practiced dissembler, he was notequal to the searching demands of those trying days, and steadily lostground. The only thing that kept him up was his sincere love forAnnie. That was so apparent and honest that, loving him herself, shewas able to forgive the rest. But it formed no small part of hersorrow at that dark time, that she must lower her lofty ideal of herlover. Hunting and Gregory seemed nearer together morally than shecould have believed possible. Thus she already had the dread that shewould not be able to "look up" to Hunting as she had expected, andthat it would be her mission to deepen and develop his characterinstead of "leaning" upon it. 

It seemed strange to her as she thought of it, during her long hoursof watching, that after all she would have to do for Hunting somethinglike what poor Gregory had asked her to do for him. She prayerfullypurposed to do it, for the idea of being disloyal to her engagementnever entered her mind. 

"Unless men have a Christian home, in which their religious life canbe daily strengthened and fostered, they cannot be what they ought, "she said to herself. "In continual contact with the world, withnothing to counteract, it's not strange that they act and feel as theydo. "

Thus she was more disposed to feel sorry for both Hunting and Gregorythan to blame them. And yet she looked upon the two men verydifferently. She regarded Hunting as a true Christian who simplyneeded warming and quickening into positive life, while she thought ofGregory with only fear and trembling. Her hope for the latter was inthe prayers stored up in his behalf. 

But now upon this day that would ever be so painfully memorable shehad thoughts only for her father, and nothing could tempt her from hisside. 

Hunting also saw that the crisis was approaching, and made but aformal semblance of a breakfast. He then entered the sick-room, andwas thinking how best to broach the subject of an immediate marriage, when a thumping of crutches was heard in the hall. 

Miss Eulie entered and said that Daddy Tuggar had managed to hobbleover, and had set his heart upon seeing his old friend. 

"Certainly, " said Mr. Walton; "he shall come in at once. "

"Caution him to stay but a few minutes, " warned Annie. 

Miss Eulie helped the old man in, and he sat down by Mr. Walton'sside, with a world of trouble on his quaint, wrinkled face. 

But he said abruptly, as if he expected an affirmative answer, "Yergettin' better this mornin'--yer on the mend?"

"Yes, my kind old neighbor, " said Mr. Walton, feebly. "I shall soon bewell. It was kind of you, in your crippled state, to come over to seeme. "

"Well, now, " said Mr. Tuggar, greatly relieved, "there _is_ use ofprayin'. I ain't much of a hand at it, and didn't know how the Lordwould take it from me; but when I heard you was sick, I began to feellike prayin', and when I heard you was gettin' wuss, I couldn't helpprayin'. When I heard how that city chap as saved the house--(what anold fool I was to cuss him when he first came! The Lord knew what Hewas doin' when He brought him here)--when I heard how he kept theladder from falling on Miss Annie, I prayed right out loud. My wife, she thought I was gettin' crazy. But I didn't care what anybodythought. I've been prayin' all night, and it seemed as if the Lordmust hear me, and I kinder felt it in my bones that He had. So Iexpected to hear you say you was goin' to get well; and Mr. Gregory, he's better too--ain't he?"

There was no immediate answer. Neither Miss Eulie nor Annie seemed toknow how to reply to the old man at first. But Mr. Walton reachedslowly out and took his neighbor's hand, saying, "Your prayers will beanswered, my friend. Honest prayer to God always is. I shall be wellsoon, never to be old, feeble, and sick any more. I'm going wherethere's 'no more pain. ' Perhaps I've seen my last night, for there is'no night there. '"

"But the Lord knows I didn't mean nothin' of that kind. We need youhere, and He orter know it. What's the use of prayin' if you get justthe opposite of what you pray for?"

"Suppose the opposite is best? I'm an old man--a shock of corn fullyripe. I'm ready to be gathered. "

"Are yer goin' to die?" asked the old man, in an awed whisper. 

"No, Mr. Tuggar; I've been growing old and feeble, I've been dying fora long time. Now I'm going to live--to be strong and well, forever andever. So don't grieve, but rather rejoice with me. "

The old man sat musing a moment, and then said softly to himself, "This is what the Scripter means when it tells about the 'death of therighteous. '"

"Yes, " continued Mr. Walton, though more feebly; "and the Scripture istrue. The dear Lord doesn't desert His people. He who has been myfriend and helper so many years now tells me that my sins, which aremany, are all forgiven. It seems that I have also heard Him say, 'To-day thou shalt be with me in Paradise. '"

Tears gathered in Daddy Tuggar's eyes, and he said, brokenly, "TheLord knows--I've allers been a sort--of well-meanin' man--but Icouldn't talk that way--if I was where you be. "

"Mr. Tuggar, " said Mr. Walton, "I'm too weak to say much more, but Iwant to ask you one question. You have read the Bible. Whom did theLord Jesus come to save?"

"Sinners, " was the prompt response. 

"Are you one?"

"What else be I?"

"Then, old neighbor, you are safe, if you will just receive Him asyour Saviour. If you were sure you were good enough and didn't needany Saviour, I should despair of you. But according to the Bible youare just such as He came after. If you feel that you are a sinner, allyou have to do is to trust Him and do the best you can. "

"Is that all you did?"

"All. I couldn't do anything more. And now, good-by. Remember my lastwords--Whom did Jesus come to save?"

"Why, He come to save me, " burst out the old man, rising up. "What acussed old fool I was, not to see it afore! I was allers thinkin' Hecame after the good folks, and I felt that no matter how I tried Icould not be good enough. Good-by, John Walton. If they are goin' tolet sinners into heaven who are willin' to come any way the Lord willlet 'em come, I'll be yer neighbor again 'fore long;" and with hiswithered, bronzed visage working with an emotion that he did not seekto control, he wrung the dying man's hand, and hobbled out. 

But he pleaded with Miss Eulie to let him stay. "I want to see itout, " he said, "for if grim Death ain't goin' to get one square knock-down now, then he never had it, I want to see the victory. 'Pears tome that when the gates open the glory will shine out upon us all. "

So she installed him in Mr. Walton's arm-chair by the parlor fire, andmade him thoroughly at home. 

"I'm a waitin' by the side of the river, " he said. "I wish I could goover with him. 'Pears I'd feel sure they wouldn't turn me back then. "

"Jesus will go over the river with you, " she said, gently, "and thenthey can't turn you back. "

"I hope so, I hope so, " said this old, child-like man, "for I'm anawful sinner. "

After this interview, which greatly fatigued him, Mr. Walton dozed foran hour, and then brightened up so decidedly that Annie had fainthopes that he was better. 

The children were brought to him, and he kissed and fondled them verytenderly. Then, in a way that would make a deep impression on theirchildish natures, he told them how he was going to see their fatherand mother, and would tell what good children they had been, and howthey always meant to be good, and how all would be waiting for them inheaven. 

Thus the little ones received no grim and terrible impressions at thatdeath-bed, but rather memories and hopes that in all their futurewould hold them back, like angel hands, from evil. 

Hunting now believed that the time for him to act had come. He hadtold Jeff to have the horse and buggy ready so that he might send forthe old pastor at once. 

He came to Annie's side, and taking her hand and her father's, thusseeming a link between them, said very gently, very tenderly, "Annie, your father has told me that it would be a great consolation to him toleave me in charge of you all as his son, legally and in the eyes ofthe world, as I feel I am in reality. I could then do everything foryou, relieve you of every care, and protect with unquestionable rightall the interests of the household. Again, the marriage tie, like thatof our betrothal, consummated here at his side, would ever seem to uspeculiarly tender and sacred. It will almost literally be a marriagemade in heaven. I hope you will feel that you can grant this, yourfather's last wish. "

Annie felt a sudden and strong repugnance to the plan. In that hour ofagonized parting she did not wish to think of marriage, even to oneshe loved. Her thoughts immediately recurred to Gregory, and she feltthat such an act might, in his weak state, cause disastrous results. And yet if it were her father's wish--his last wish--how could sherefuse him--how could she refuse him anything? The marriage day wouldeventually come. If by making this the day she could once more showher filial love and add to his dying peace, did she not owe him herfirst duty? The dying are omnipotent with us. Who can refuse theirlast requests?

She looked inquiringly, but with tear-blinded eyes, at her father. 

"Yes, Annie, " he said, answering her look, "it would be a greatconsolation to me, because I can see how it will be of much advantageto you--more than you can now understand. It will enable Charles tostep in at once as head of the household, and so you will be relievedof many perplexities and details of business which would be verytrying to you, as you will feel. I want to spare you and sister allthis, and you have no idea how much it will save your feelings, andadd to your comfort, to have one like Charles act for you with suchpower as he would have as your husband. After seeing you all thusprovided for, it seems to me that I could depart in perfect peace. "

"Dear father, " said Annie, tenderly, "how can I deny you anything!This seems to me no time for marriage, but, since you wish it, yourwill shall be mine. It must be right or you would not ask it; andyet--" She did not finish the sentence, but buried her face in herhands, weeping. 

"That's my noble Annie, " Hunting exclaimed, with a glad exultation inhis voice that he could not disguise; and, hastening out, he told Jeffto bring the minister as speedily as possible. 

Miss Eulie was called, and acquiesced in her brother's opinion, andhovered around Annie in a tender flutter of maternal love. 

Hunting now felt that he was master of destiny, and in his heart badedefiance to Gregory and all his own fears. His elation and self-applause were great, for had he not snatched the prize out of the handof death itself, and made events that would have awed and disheartenedother men combine for his good? He had schemed, planned, andoverreached them all, though, in this case, for their interests aswell as his own, he believed. While he would naturally wish themarriage to take place as soon as possible, his chief reason was toforestall any revelations which might come through Gregory; and thismotive made his whole course, though apparently dictated by the purestfeeling, a crafty trick. Yet such was the complex nature of the manthat he honestly meant to fulfil all Mr. Walton's expectations, andbecome Annie's loving shield from every care and trial, and a faithfulguardian of the household. Nay, more, as soon as he was securelyintrenched, with all his coveted possessions, he purposed that Annieshould help him to be a true, good man--a Christian in reality. 

Well may the purest and strongest pray to be kept from the evil of theworld. It lurks where least suspected, and can plot its wrongs in thechamber of death, and on the threshold of heaven. Annie and her fathermight at least suppose themselves safe now. Were they so, with God'sminister on his way to join truth with untruth--a pure-hearted maidento a man from whom she would shrink the moment she came to know him?Not on the human side. They were safe only as God kept them. If AnnieWalton had found herself married to a swindler, hers would have been alife-long martyrdom. But unconsciously she drew momentarily nearer theedge of the precipice. Time was passing, and their venerable pastorwould soon be present. Annie had welcomed him every day previously, ashe came to take sweet counsel with her father rather than prepare himfor death, but now she had a strange, secret dread of his coming. 

Her father suddenly put his hand to his heart. 

"Have you pain there?" asked Annie. 

"It's gone, " he replied, after a moment. "They will soon be all past, Annie dear. How does Mr. Gregory seem now?" he asked of Miss Eulie. 

"Greatly depressed, I'm sorry to say, " she answered. "He knows thatyou are no better, and it seems to distress him very much. "

"God bless him for saving my darling's life!" he said, fervently; "andHe will bless him. I have a feeling that he will see brighter andbetter days. I can send him almost a father's love and blessing, forhe now seems like a son to me. Say to him that I shall tell his fatherof his noble deeds. Be a sister to him, Annie. Carry on the good workyou have so wisely begun. May the friendship of the parents descend tothe children. And you, Charles, my son, will surely feel toward him asa brother, whatever may have been the differences of the past. "

Innocent but deeply embarrassing words to both Hunting and Annie. 

Again Mr. Walton put his hand to his heart. 

Hunting left the room, for it was surely time for Jeff to return. Witha gleam of exultant joy he saw him driving toward the house with thewhite-haired minister at his side. He returned softly to the sick-room. 

Mr. Walton had just taken Annie's hands, and after a look ofunutterable fondness, said, "Before I give you to another--while youare still my own little girl--let me thank you for having been all andmore than a father could ask. How good God was to give me such acomfort in your mother's place!"

"Dear father!" was all that Annie could say. 

Even then the minister was entering the house. 

"I bless thee, my child, " the father continued; then turning his eyesheavenward he reverently closed them in prayer, saying, "and God blessthee also, and keep thee from every evil. "

God answered him. 

His grasp on Annie's hand relaxed; without even a sigh he passed away. 

Annie started up with a look of alarm, and saw the same expression onthe faces of her aunt and Hunting. They spoke to him; he did notanswer. Hunting felt his pulse. Its throb had ceased forever. Thechill of a great dread turned his own face like that of the dead. 

Miss Eulie put her hand on her brother's heart. It was at rest. Anniestood motionless with dilating eyes watching them. But when her auntcame toward her with streaming eyes she realized the truth and fellfainting to the floor. 

Just then the old minister crossed the threshold, but Hunting said tohim, almost savagely, "You are too late. "

CHAPTER XXXI

"LIVE! LIVE!"--ANNIE'S APPEAL

Annie's swoon was so prolonged that both her aunt and Hunting werealarmed. It was the reaction from the deep and peculiar excitement ofthe last few days. Every power of mind and body had been under theseverest strain, and nature now gave way. 

The doctor, when he came to make his morning call, was most welcome. He said there was nothing alarming about Miss Walton's symptoms, butadded very decisively that she would need rest and quiet of mind for along time in order to regain her former tone and health. 

When Annie revived he gave something that would tend to quiet hernervous system and produce sleep. 

"I now understand Mr. Walton's case, " he said to Miss Eulie. "I couldnot see why his severe cold, which he had apparently cured, shouldresult as it did. But now it's plain that it was complicated withheart difficulties. "

His visit to Gregory was not at all satisfactory, for his patient'sdepression was so great that he was sinking under it. Mr. Walton'sdeath, leaving Annie defenceless, as it were, in the hands of a manlike Hunting, seemed another of the dark and cruel mysteries which tohim made up human life. The death that had given Daddy Tuggar such animpulse toward faith and hope only led him to say with intensebitterness, "God has forgotten His world, and the devil rules it. "

"Mr. Gregory, " said the physician, gravely, "do you know that you areabout the same as taking your own life? All the doctors in the worldcannot help you unless you try to live. Drugs cannot remove yourapathy and morbid depression. "

"Very well, doctor, " he replied; "do not trouble yourself to come anymore. I absolve you from all blame. "

"But I cannot absolve myself. Besides, it's not manly to give up inthis style. "

"I make no pretence of being manly or anything else. I am just whatyou see. Can a broken reed stand up like a sturdy oak? Can such athing as I reverse fate? Thank you, doctor, for all you have done, butwaste no more time upon me. I knew, weeks ago, that the end was near, and I would like to die in the old place. "

The doctor looked at him a moment in deep perplexity, and thensilently left the room. 

"Internal injuries that I can't get at, " he muttered, as he droveaway. 

Miss Eulie came to Gregory's side, and laying her hand gently on hisbrow said, "You are mistaken, my young friend. You are going to live. "

"Why do you think so?" he asked. 

"The dying often have almost prophetic vision;" and she told him allthat Mr. Walton had said, though nothing of the contemplated marriage. She dwelt with special emphasis on the facts that he had told Annie tobe a sister to Gregory and had gone to heaven with the assurance tohis old friend that his son would join him there. 

Gregory was strongly moved, and turning his face upon the pillow, gaveway to a passion of tears; but they were despairing, bitter, regretfultears. He soon seemed ashamed of them, and when he again turned hisface toward Miss Eulie, it had a hard, stony look. 

Almost with sternness he said, "If the dying have supernaturalinsight, why could not Mr. Walton see what kind of a man Hunting is?Please leave me now. I know how kind and well-meant your words are, but they are mockery to me;" and he turned his face to the wall. 

Miss Eulie sighed very deeply, but felt that his case was beyond herskill. 

Daddy Tuggar was at first grievously disappointed. He had wroughthimself up into the hope of a celestial scene, and the abrupt andquiet termination of Mr. Walton's life seemed inadequate to theoccasion. But Miss Eulie comforted him by saying that "the Christianwalked by faith, and not by sight--that God knew what was best, betterthan we, His little children. 

"Death had not even the power to cause him a moment's pain, " she said. "God gave him a sweet surprise, by letting him through the gatesbefore he was aware. "

Thus she led the strange old man to think it was for the best afterall. The Rev. Mr. Ames, who had come on such a different mission, alsotried to make clearer what Mr. Walton had said to him. But DaddyTuggar would not permit his mind to wander a moment from the simpletruth, which he kept saying over and over to himself, "I'm an awfulsinner, and the good Lord come after just such. "

Another thing that greatly perplexed the old man was that Mr. Waltonhad not been permitted to live long enough to see his daughtermarried. As an old neighbor, and because of his strong attachment toAnnie, he had been invited to be present. 

"'Pears to me that the Lord might have spared him a few minuteslonger, " he said. 

"It _appears_ to you so, " replied Mr. Ames, "but the Lord _knows_ whyhe did not. "

"Well, parson, " said Daddy Tuggar, "I thank you very kindly for whatyou have said, but John Walton has done the business for me. I'm justgoin' to trust--I'm just goin' to let myself go limber and fall rightdown on the Lord Jesus' word. I don't believe it will break with me. Anyhow, it's all I can do, and John Walton told me to do it and Iallers found he was about right. " And thus late in the twilight oflife the old man took his pilgrim's staff and started homeward. 

As soon as Hunting recovered from his bitter disappointment and almostsuperstitious alarm at the sudden thwarting of his purpose, his wilyand scheming mind fell to work on a new combination. If he still couldinduce Annie to be married almost immediately, as he greatly hoped, all would be well. If not, then he would assume that they were thesame as married, and at once take his place so far as possible at thehead of the household, in accordance with Mr. Walton's wish. On onehand, by tender care and thoughtfulness for them all, he would placeAnnie under the deepest obligation; on the other, he would gain, tothe extent he could, control of her affairs and property. In thelatter purpose Mr. Walton had greatly aided by naming him one of theexecutors of his will; and only Miss Eulie, the sister-in-law, wasunited with him as executrix. Thus he would substantially have his ownway. Indeed, Mr. Walton, in his perfect trust, meant that he should. 

Having seen Annie quietly sleeping, he started for New York to makearrangements for the funeral, and look after some personal mattersthat had already been neglected too long. 

His feelings on the journey were not enviable. He had enough faith tofear God, but not to trust and obey. The thought recurred withdisheartening frequency, "If God is against this, He will thwart meevery time. "

The day had closed in thick darkness and a storm before Annie awokefrom the deep sleep which the sedative had prolonged. Though weak andlanguid, she insisted on getting up. Her aunt almost forced her totake a little supper, and then she went instinctively and naturally tothat room which had always been a place of refuge, but which now wasthe chamber of death. 

She turned up the light that she might look at the dear, _dear_ face. How calm and noble it was in its deep repose! It did not suggestdeath--only peaceful sleep. 

With a passionate burst of sorrow she moaned, "O father, let me sleepbeside you, and be at rest!"

Then she took his cold hand, and sat down mechanically to watch, as inthe days and nights just passed. But as she became composed andthought grew busy, the deep peace of the sleeper seemed imparted toher. In vivid imagination she followed him to the home and greetingsthat he had so joyously anticipated. She saw him meet her mother andsister, and other loved ones who had gone before. She saw him at hisSaviour's feet, blessed and crowned. She heard the wild storm ragingwithout in the darkness, and then thought of his words "There is nonight there. "

"Dear father, " she murmured, "I would not call you back if I could. God give me patience to come to you in His own appointed way. "

Then she dwelt upon the strange events of the day. How near she hadcome to being a wife! Why had she not become one? That the marriageshould have been so suddenly and unexpectedly prevented on the veryeve of consummation, caused some curious thoughts to flit through hermind. 

"It is enough to know that it was God's will, " she said; "and myfuture is still in His hands. Poor Charles! it will be adisappointment to him; and yet what difference will a few weeks ormonths make?"

Then her father's words, "Be a sister to Gregory, " recurred to her, and she reproached herself that she had so long forgotten him. "Fatheris safe home, " she said, "and I am leaving him to wander further andfurther away. Father told me to be a sister to him, and I will. Whenhe gets well and strong, if he ever does, he will feel verydifferently; and if he is to die (which God forbid), what more sacredduty can I have than to plead with him and for him to the last?"

Pressing a kiss on her father's silent lips, she went to fulfil one oftheir last requests. She first asked her aunt if it would be prudentto visit Gregory. "I hardly know, Annie, what to say, " said MissEulie, in deep perplexity; and she told her what had occurred inrelation to Gregory, the doctor, and herself, omitting all referenceto Hunting. "If he is not roused out of his gloom and apathy, I fearhe will die, " concluded her aunt; "and if you can't rouse him, I don'tknow who can. "

Annie gave her a quick, questioning glance. 

"Yes, Annie, I understand, " she said, quietly. "He received his worstinjury before the ladder fell. "

"O aunty, what shall I do?"

"Indeed, my dear child, I can hardly tell you. You are placed in adifficult and delicate position. Perhaps your father's words werewisest, 'Be a sister to him. ' At any rate, you have more power withhim than any one else, and you owe it to him to do all you can to savehim. "

"I am ready to do anything, aunty, for it seems as if I could never behappy if he should die an unbeliever. "

Annie stole noiselessly to Gregory's side, and motioned to the youngman who was in charge to withdraw to the next room. Gregory was stillasleep. She sat down by him and was greatly shocked to see howemaciated and pale he was. It seemed as if he had suffered from anillness of weeks rather than days. 

"He will die, " she murmured, with all her old terror at the thoughtreturning. "He will die, and for me. Though innocent, I shall alwaysfeel that his blood is upon me;" and she buried her face in her hands, and her whole frame shook with a passion of grief. 

Her emotion awoke him, and he recognized with something like awe thebowed head at his side. 

Her grief for her father, as he supposed it to be, seemed such asacred thing! And yet he could not bear to see her intense sorrow. Hisheart ached to comfort her, but what words of consolation could suchas he offer? Still, had she not come to him as if for comfort? Thisthought touched him deeply, and he almost cursed his unbelieving soulthat made him dumb at such a time. What could he say but miserablecommonplaces in regard to a bereavement like hers?

He did not say anything, but merely reached out his hand and gentlystroked her bowed head. 

Then she knew he was awake, and she took his hand and bowed her headupon it. 

"Miss Walton, " he said, in a husky voice, "it cuts me to the heart tosee you grieve so. But, alas! I do not know how to comfort you, and Ican't say trite words which mean nothing. After losing such a fatheras yours, what can any one say?"

She raised her head and said, impetuously, "It's not for father I amgrieving. He is in heaven--he is not lost to me. It's for you--you. You are breaking my heart. "

"Miss Walton, " he began, in much surprise, "I don't understand--"

"Why don't you understand?" she interrupted. "What do you think I ammade of? Do you think that you can lie here and die for me and I goserenely on? Do you not see that you would blight the life you havesaved?"

His apathy was gone now. But he was bewildered, so sudden andoverpowering was her emotion. He only found words to say, "MissWalton, God knows I am yours, body and soul. What can I do?"

"Live! live!" she continued, with the same passionate earnestness. "Iimpose no conditions, I ask nothing else. Only get well and strongagain. If you will do this, I have such confidence in your betternature, and the many prayers laid up for you, as to feel sure that allwill come out right. But if you will just lie here and die, you willimbitter my life. What did the doctor tell you this morning? And yet Ishall feel that I am partly the cause. O, Mr. Gregory, you may thinkme foolish, but that strange little omen of the chestnut burr is in mymind so often! I never was superstitious before, but it haunts me. Don't you remember how you stained my hand with your blood? I can'tget it out of my mind, and it has for me now a strange significance. If I had to remember through coming years that you died for me allhopeless and unbelieving, do you think so poorly of me as to imagine Icould be happy? Why can't you be generous enough to brighten the lifeyou have saved? Among my father's last words he said I must be asister to you. How can I if you die? You would make this dear oldplace, that we both love, full of terrible memories. "

He was deeply moved, and after a moment said, "I did not know that youfelt in this way. I thought the best thing that I could do was to getout of the world and out of the way. I thought I knew you, but I donot half understand your large, generous heart. For your sake I willtry and get well, nor will I impose any conditions whatever. Butpardon me: I am going to ask one thing, which you can grant or not asyou choose. Please do not wrong me by thinking that I have anypersonal end in view. I have given all that up as truly as if I weredead. I ask that you do not speedily marry Charles Hunting--not tillyou are sure you know him. "

"O dear!" exclaimed Annie, in real distress, "this dreadful quarrel!What trouble it makes all around!"

"If your father, " continued Gregory, with grave earnestness, "told youto be a sister to me, then I have some right to act as a brothertoward you. But as an honest man, with all my faults, and with yourinterests nearest my heart, I entreat you to heed my request. Nay, more: I am going to seem ungenerous, and refer for the first and lasttime to the obligation you are under to me. By all the influence Igained by that act, I beg of you to hesitate before you marry CharlesHunting. Believe me, I would not lay a straw in the way of yourmarrying a good man. "

"Your words pain me more than I can tell you, " said Annie, sadly. "Ido not understand them. Once they would have angered me. But, howevermistaken you are, I cannot do injustice to your motive. 

"I do not see how your request can injure Charles, " she continued, musingly. "I have no wish to marry now for a long time--not till thesesad scenes have faded somewhat from memory. If you will only promiseto live I will not marry him till you get strong and well--till youcan look upon this matter as a man--as a brother ought. But yourhostility must not be unreasonable or implacable. I _know_ you do Mr. Hunting great injustice. And yet such is my solicitude for you that Iwill do what seems to me almost disloyal. But I know that I owe agreat deal to you as well as Charles. "

"What I ask is for your sake, not mine. I only used the obligation asa motive. "

"Well, " said Annie, "I yield; and surely a sister could do no morethan I have done to-night. "

"And I have simply done my duty, " he answered, quietly. "And yet Ithank you truly. You also may see the time when you will thank me morethan when I interposed my worthless person between you and danger. "

"Please never call yourself 'worthless' to me again. We never didagree, and I fear we shall be gray before we do. But mark this: I amnever going to give you up, whatever happens. I shall obey dearfather's last words from both duty and inclination. But let us endthis painful conversation. What have you eaten to-day?"

"I'm sure I don't know, " he said. 

"Will you eat something if I bring it?"

"I will do anything you ask. "

"Now you give me hope, " and she vanished, sending the regular watcherback to his post. 

Gregory found it no difficult task to eat the dainty little supper shebrought. She had broken the malign spell he was under. As we haveseen, his was a physical nature peculiarly subject to mentalconditions. 

Soon after she said, in a low tone meant only for his ear, "Good-night, my poor suffering brother. We all three shall understand eachother better in God's good time. "

"I hope so, " he said, with a different meaning. "You have made me feelthat I am not alone and uncared for in the world, though I cannot callyou sister yet. Good-night. "

Annie went back to her father's side, and remained till her auntalmost forced her away. 

It is not necessary to dwell on the events of the next few days. Suchis our earthly lot, nearly all can depict them by recalling their ownsad experience: the hushed and solemn household, even the childrenspeaking low and treading softly, as if they might awake one whom only"the last trump" could arouse. 

John Walton's funeral was no formal pageant, but an occasion ofsincere and general mourning. Even those whose lives and characterswere the opposite of his had the profoundest respect for him, and theentire community united in honoring his memory. 

Perhaps the most painful time of all to the stricken family was theevening after their slow, dreary ride to the village cemetery. Then, as not before, they realized their loss. 

Annie felt that her best solace would be in trying to cheer others. She had seen Gregory but seldom and briefly since the interview lastdescribed, but had been greatly comforted by his decided change forthe better. He had kept his word. Indeed, it was only the leaden handof despondency that kept him down, and he rallied from the moment itwas lifted. This evening he was dressed and sitting by the fire. Asshe entered, in her deep mourning, his look was so wistful and kind, so eloquent with sympathy, that instead of cheering him, as she hadintended, she sat down on a low ottoman, and burying her face in herhands, cried as if her heart would break. 

"Oh that I knew how to comfort you!" said Gregory, in the deepestdistress. "I cannot bear to see you suffer. "

He rose with difficulty and came to her side, saying, "What can I do, Miss Walton? Would that I could prevent you, at any cost to myself, from ever shedding another tear!"

His sympathy was so true and strong that it was a luxury for her toreceive it; and she had kept up so long that tears were nature's ownrelief. 

At last he said timidly, hesitatingly, as if venturing on forbiddenground, "I think the Bible says that in heaven all tears will be wipedaway. Your father is surely there. "

"Would that I were there with him!" she sobbed. 

"Not yet, Annie, not yet, " he said, gently. "Think how dark this worldwould be to more than one if you were not in it. "

"But will you never seek this dear home of rest?" she asked. 

"The way of life is closed to me, " he said, sadly. 

"O, Mr. Gregory! Who is it that says, 'I am the way?'"

"But He says to me, 'Depart. '"

"And yet I, knowing all--I, a weak, sinful creature like yourself--say, Come to Him. I am better and kinder than He who died for us all!What strange, sad logic! Good-night, Walter. You will not always sowrong your best Friend. "

Gregory's despairing conviction that his day of mercy was past washardly proof against her words and manner, but he was in thickdarkness and saw no way out. 

Annie went down to her aunt and Hunting in the parlor. "Why will Mr. Gregory be so hard and unbelieving?" she said, tearfully. 

"If you knew him as well as I do you would understand, " said Hunting, politicly, and then changed the conversation. 

He was consumed by a jealousy which he dared not show. Annie's mannertoward him was all that he could ask, and he felt sure of her now. Butit was the future he dreaded, for he was satisfied that Gregory hadformed an attachment for Annie, whether she knew it or not, and, unless he could secure her by marriage, the man he had wronged mightfind means of tearing off his mask. With desperate earnestness heresolved to press his suit. 

His course since Mr. Walton's death had been such as to win Annie'ssincerest gratitude. When action rather than moral support wasrequired, he was strong, and no one could be more delicatelythoughtful of her feelings and kinder than he had been. 

"Dear Charles, " said Annie, when they were alone. "What should I havedone without you in all these dreary days! How you have saved me fromall painful contact with the world!"

"And so I ever wish to shield you, " said Hunting. "Will you not, asyour father purposed, give me the right at once?"

"You have the right, Charles. I ask no more than you have done and aredoing. But do not urge marriage now. I yielded then for father's sake, not my own. My heart is too sore and crushed to think of it now. Afterall, what difference can a few months make to you? Be generous. Giveme a respite, and I will make you a better wife and a happier home. "

"But it looks, Annie, as if you could not trust me, " he said, gloomily. 

"No, Charles, " she said, gravely, "it looks rather as if youdistrusted me; and you must learn to trust me implicitly. Out of bothlove for you and justice to myself, I exercise my woman's right ofnaming the day. In the meantime I give you my perfect confidence. Nowords of others--nothing but your own acts can disturb it, and of thisI have no fear. "

He did not seek to disguise his deep disappointment. While she feltsorry for him, she remained firm, and he saw that it would not be wiseto urge her. 

Annie would not carelessly give pain to any one, much less to thoseshe loved. And yet her mind was strong and well-balanced. She knew itwas no great misfortune to Hunting to wait a few months when her ownfeelings and the duty she owed another required it. "When Mr. Gregorygets strong and well and back to business, " she thought, "he willwonder at himself. I have no right almost to destroy him now in hisweakness by doing that which can be done better at another time; andindeed, for my own sake, I should have required delay. "

The next day Hunting was reluctantly compelled to go to the city. Somewhat to Annie's surprise, Gregory made no effort to secure hersociety. In her frank, sisterly regard she was slow in understandingthat her presence caused regretful pain to him. But he seemedresolutely bent upon getting well, and was gaining rapidly. He walkedout a little while during the middle of the day, and her eyes followedhim wistfully as he moved slowly and feebly along the garden walk. Shesaw, with quickly starting tears, that he went to the rustic seat bythe brook where they had spent that memorable Sunday afternoon, andthat he stood in long, deep thought. 

When he came back she offered to read to him. 

"Not now--not yet, " he said, sadly. "I know my own weakness, and wouldbe true to my word. "

"Why do you shun me?" she asked. 

"May you never understand from experience, " he said with a smile thatwas sadder than tears, and passed on up to his room. 

And yet, though he did not know it, his course was the best policy, for it awakened stronger respect and sympathy on her part. 

The next morning ushered in the first of the dreamy Indian-summerdays, when Nature, as if grieved over the havoc of the frost, wouldhide the dismantled trees and dead flowers by a purple haze, and seekas do fading beauties to disguise the ravages of time by drawing overher withered face a deceptive veil. 

Gregory felt so much better that he thought he could venture to make aparting call on Daddy Tuggar. He found the old man smoking on hisporch, and his reception was as warm and demonstrative as his firsthad been a month ago, though of a different nature. Gregory lighted acigar and sat down beside him. 

"I'm wonderful glad to see you, " said Mr. Tuggar. "To think that Ishould have cussed you when it was the good Lord that brought youhere!"

"Do you think so?" asked Gregory. 

"Certain I do. Would that house be there? Wouldn't all our hearts bebroke for Miss Annie if it wasn't for you?"

Gregory felt that his heart was "broke" for her as it was, but hesaid, "It was my taking her out to walk that caused her danger. So youwouldn't have lost her if I had not come. "

"You didn't knowin'ly git her in danger, and you did knowin'ly git herout, and that's enough for me, " said the old man. 

"Well, well, Mr. Tuggar, if I had broken my neck it would have been alittle thing compared with saving the life of such a woman as MissWalton. Still, I fear the Lord has not much to do with me. "

"And have you been all this time with John Walton and Miss Annie andstill feel that way?"

"It's not their fault. "

"I believe that. Are you willin' to say you are a great sinner?"

"Of course. What else am I?"

"That's it--that's it, " cried the old man, delightedly. "Now you'reall right. That's just where I was. When John Walton bid me good-by, he asked me one question that let more light into my thick head thanall the readin' and preachin' and prayin' I ever heard. He asked, 'Whom did Jesus Christ come to save?' Answer that. "

"The Bible says He came to save sinners, " replied Gregory, now deeplyinterested. 

"Well, I should think that meant you and me, " said Mr. Tuggar, emphatically. "Anyhow, I know it means me. John Walton told me thatall I had to do was to just trust the Saviour--not of good people--butof sinners, and do the best I could; and I have just done it, and I'mall right, Mr. Gregory, I'm all right. I don't know whether I can stopswearin', but I'm a tryin'. I don't know whether I can ever get undermy old ugly temper, but I'm a tryin' and a prayin'. But whether I canor not, I'm all right, for the good Lord came to save sinners; and ifthat don't mean me, what's the use of words?"

"But can you trust Him?" asked Gregory. 

"Certain I can. Wasn't John Walton an honest man? Wasn't Jesus Christhonest? Didn't he know what He come for?"

"Admitting that He came to save sinners, how can you be sure He willsave all? He might save you and not me. "

"Well, " said Mr. Tuggar, "I hadn't been home long before that questioncome up to me, and I thought on it a long time. I smoked wellnigh ahundred pipes on it afore I got it settled, but 'tis settled, and whenI settle a thing I don't go botherin' back about it. But like enough'twon't satisfy you. "

"At any rate, I should like to hear your conclusion. "

"Well, I argued it out to myself. I says, 'Suppose there's somesinners too bad, or too somethin' or other, for the Lord to save, andsuppose you are one of them, ain't ''lected, ' as my wife says. If Icould be an unbelievin' sinner for eighty years, it seemed to me thatif anybody wasn't 'lected I wasn't. I was dreadfully down, I tell yer, for I'd set my heart on bein' John Walton's neighbor again. After I'dsmoked a good many pipes, I cussed myself for an old fool. 'There, you've brought your case into court, ' I says, 'and you're goin' togive it up afore it's argued. ' Then I argued it. I was honest, you maybe sure. It wouldn't do me any good to pettifog in this matter. FirstI says, if there was any doubt about the Lord savin' all sinners whowanted Him to, John Walton orter have spoken of it, and from what Iknow of the man he would. Then I says, arter all, it's the Lord I'vegot to deal with. Now what kind of a Lord is He? Then I commencedrememberin' all that Miss Eulie and Miss Annie had read to me aboutHim, and all I'd heard, and I got my wife to read some, and my hopesgrew every minute. I tell you what, Mr. Gregory, it was a queer crowdHe often had around Him. I'd kinder felt at home among 'em, 'speciallywith that swearin' fisherman Peter. 

"Well, the upshot of it was, I couldn't find that He ever turned onesinner away. Then why should He me? Then my wife, as she was readin', come across the words, 'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise castout. ' I had heard them words afore often, but it seemed now as thefirst time, and I just shouted, 'I've got His word for it, ' and mywife thought I was crazy, sure 'nuff, for she didn't know what I wasdrivin' at. And now, Mr. Gregory, you're just shut up to two things, just two things. Either the Lord Jesus will save every sinner thatcomes to Him, or he ain't honest, and don't mean what he says, andwon't do as he used to. I tell yer I'm settled, better settled thanyonder mountain. I just let myself go limber right down upon thepromise, and it's all right. I'm going to be John Walton's neighboragain. "

Gregory was more affected by the old man's quaint talk than he wouldhave believed possible. It seemed true that he was "shut up" to one orthe other of the alternatives presented. He commenced pacing up anddown the little porch in deep thought. Mr. Tuggar puffed away at hispipe with such vigor that he was exceedingly beclouded, however clearhis mind. At last Gregory said, "I shall think over what you havesaid, very carefully, for I admit it has a great deal of force to mymind. "

"That's right, " said Mr. Tuggar; "argue it out, just as I did. Showyourself no favors, and be fair to yourself, and you can't get awayfrom my conclusion. You've got to come to it. "

"I should be very glad to come to it, " said Gregory, gravely. 

"I should think you would. There'll be some good neighbors up there, Mr. Gregory; these Waltons are all bound to be there. Miss Annie wouldbe kinder good company--eh, Mr. Gregory?"

In spite of himself he flushed deeply under the old man's keenscrutiny. 

"There's one thing that's mighty 'plexing to me, " said Mr. Tuggar, ledto the subject by its subtle connection with Gregory's blush, "andthat's why the Lord didn't keep John Walton alive a few minuteslonger, so that the marriage could take place. "

Gregory gave a great start. "What marriage?" he asked. 

"Why, don't you know about it?" said Mr. Tuggar, in much surprise. 

"No, nothing at all. "

"Then perhaps I ortn't ter speak of it. "

"Certainly not, if you don't think it right. "

"Well, I've said so much I might as well say it all, " said the oldman, musingly. "It's no secret, as I knows of;" and he told Gregoryhow near Annie came to being a wife. 

Gregory drew a long breath and looked deathly pale and faint. 

"Well, now, I'd no idea that you'd be so struck of a heap, " said theold man, in still deeper surprise. 

"God's hand was in that, " murmured Gregory; "God's hand was in that. "

"Do you think so, now? Well, it does seem kinder cur'us, and per'apsit was, for somehow I never took to that Hunting, though he seems allright. "

"Good-by, Mr. Tuggar, " said Gregory, rising; "you have given me a gooddeal to think about, and I'm going to think, and act, too, if I can. Iam going to New York to-morrow, and one of the first things I do willbe to fill your pipe for a long time;" and he pressed the old man'shand most cordially. 

"Let yourself go limber when you come to trust, and it will be allright, " were Daddy Tuggar's last words, as he balanced himself on hiscrutches in parting. 

Gregory found Annie in the parlor, and he said, "I have good news foryou; Daddy Tuggar is a Christian. "

Annie sprang joyfully up and said, "I'm going over to see him atonce. "

When she returned, Gregory was quietly reading in the parlor, showingthus that he had no wish to avoid her. 

She came directly to him and said, "Daddy Tuggar says that you proposegoing home to-morrow. "

"Well, really, Miss Walton, I have no home to go to; but I expect toreturn to the city. "

"Now I protest against it. "

"I'm glad you do. "

"Then you won't go?"

"Yes, I must; but I'm glad you don't wish me to go"

"Why need you go yet? You ought not. You should wait till you arestrong. "

"That is just why I go--to get _strong_. I never could here, with youlooking so kindly at me as you do now. You see I am as frank as Ipromised to be. So please say no more, for you cannot and you oughtnot to change my purpose. "

"O dear!" cried Annie, "how one's faith is tried! Why need this beso?"

"On the contrary, " he said, "what little faith I ever had has beenquite revived this afternoon. Daddy Tuggar has been 'talking religion'to me, and, pardon me for saying it, I found his words more convincingthan even yours. "

"I am not jealous of him, " said Annie, gladly. 

"I can't help thinking that God does see and care, in that Heprevented your marriage. "

Annie blushed deeply, and said, coldly, "I am sorry you touched uponthat subject, " and she left the room. 

Gregory went quietly on with his reading, or seemed to do so. Indeed, he made a strong effort, and succeeded, for he was determined tomaster himself outwardly. 

She soon relented and came back. When she saw him apparently soundisturbed, the thought came to her, "He has truly given me up. Thereis nothing of the lover in that calmness, and he makes no effort towin my favor, " but she said, "Mr. Gregory, I fear I hurt yourfeelings. You certainly did mine. I cannot endure the injustice youpersist in doing Mr. Hunting. "

"I only repeat your own words, 'We all three shall understand eachother in God's good time'; and after what I heard to-day, I have thefeeling that He is watching over you. "

"Won't you promise not to speak any more on this subject?"

"Yes, for I have done my duty. "

She took up his book and read to him, thus giving one more hour ofmingled pain and pleasure; though when he thought how long it would bebefore he heard that sweet voice again, if ever, his pain almostreached the point of anguish. As she turned toward him and saw hislook of suffering, she realized somewhat the effort he had made tokeep up before her. 

She came to him and said, "I was about to ask a favor, but perhapsit's hardly right. "

"Ask it, anyway, " he said, with a smile. 

"I don't urge it, but I expect Mr. Hunting this evening. Won't youcome down to supper and meet him?"

"For your sake I will, now that I have gained some self-control. I amnot one to quarrel in a lady's parlor under any provocation. For yoursake I will treat Mr. Hunting like a gentleman, and make my lastevening with you as little of a restraint as possible. "

"Thank you--thank you. You now promise to make it one of peculiarhappiness. "

Annie drove to the depot for Hunting, and told of Gregory's consent tomeet him. She said, "Now is your opportunity, Charles. Meet him insuch a way as to make enmity impossible. "

His manner was not very reassuring, but, in his pleasure at hearingthat Gregory was soon to depart, and that in his absence Annie'sconfidence in him had not been disturbed, he promised to do the besthe could. She was nervously excited as the moment of meetingapproached, and, somewhat to her surprise, Hunting seemed to share heruneasiness. 

Gregory did not come down till the family were all in the supper-room. Annie was struck with his appearance as he entered. Though his leftarm was in a sling, there was a graceful and almost courtly dignity inhis bearing, a brilliancy in his eyes and a firmness, about his mouth, which proved that he had nerved himself for the ordeal and wouldmaintain himself. Instantly she thought of the time when he had firstappeared in that room, a half-wrecked, blase man of the world. Now helooked and acted like a nobleman. 

Hunting, on the contrary, had a shuffling and embarrassed manner; buthe approached Gregory and held out his hand, saying, "Come, Mr. Gregory, let by-gones be by-gones. "

But Gregory only bowed with the perfection of distant courtesy, andsaid, "Good-evening, Mr. Hunting, " and took his seat. 

Both Hunting and Annie blushed deeply and resentfully. After they wereseated, Annie looked toward Hunting to say "grace" as usual, but hecould not before the man who knew him so well, and there was anothermoment of deep embarrassment, while a sudden satirical light gleamedfrom Gregory's eyes. Annie saw it, and it angered her. 

Then Gregory broke the ice with quiet, well-bred ease. In naturaltones he commenced conversation, addressing now one, now another, insuch a way that they were forced to answer him in like manner. Heasked Hunting about the news and gossip of the city as naturally as ifthey had met that evening for the first time. He even had pleasantrepartee with Johnny and Susie, who had now come to like him verymuch, and his manner toward Miss Eulie was peculiarly gentle andrespectful, for he was deeply grateful to her. Indeed, that good ladycould scarcely believe her eyes and ears; but Gregory had always beenan enigma to her. At first he spoke to Annie less frequently than toany one else, for he dreaded the cloud upon her brow and her outspokentruthfulness, and he was determined the evening should pass off as hehad planned. Though so crippled that his food had to be prepared forhim, he only made it a matter of graceful jest, and gave ample proofthat a highly bred and cultivated man can be elegant in manners undercircumstances the most adverse. 

Even Annie thawed and relented under his graceful tact, and felt thatperhaps he was doing all she could expect in view of the simplepromise to "treat Hunting like a gentleman, for her sake. " But it hadpained her deeply that he had not met Hunting's advances; and she sawthat, though perfectly courteous, he was not committing himself in theslightest degree toward reconciliation. 

Moreover, she was excessively annoyed that Hunting acted so poor apart. It is as natural for a woman to take pride in her lover as tobreathe, but she could have no pride in Hunting that evening. Heseemed annoyed beyond endurance with both himself and Gregory, thoughhe strove to disguise it. He knew that he was appearing todisadvantage, and this increased his embarrassment, and he was mostunhappy in his words and manner. Yet he could take exception atnothing, for Gregory, secure in his polished armor, grew morebrilliant and entertaining as he saw his adversary losing ground. 

All were glad when he supper-hour was over and they could adjourn tothe parlor. Here Gregory changed his tactics, and drawing the childrenaside, told them a marvellous tale as a good-by souvenir, thus causingthem to feel deep regret for his departure. He next drew Miss Eulieinto an animated discussion upon a subject he knew her to beinterested in. From this he made the conversation general, andcontinued to speak to Hunting as naturally as if there were nodifferences between them. But all saw that he was growing very weary, and early in the evening he quietly rose and excused himself, sayingthat he needed rest for his journey on the morrow. There was the samepolite, distant bow to Hunting as at first, and in deep disappointmentAnnie admitted that nothing had been gained by the interview fromwhich she had hoped so much. They were no nearer reconciliation. WhileGregory's manner had compelled respect and even admiration, it hadannoyed her excessively, for he had made her lover appear todisadvantage, and she was almost vexed with Hunting that he had notbeen equal to the occasion. She was sorry that she had asked Gregoryto come down while Hunting was present, and yet courtesy seemed torequire that he should be with them, since he was now sufficientlywell. Altogether it was a silent little group that Gregory left in theparlor, as all were busy with their own thoughts. 

Hunting determined to remain the following day and see Gregory off andout of the way forever, he hoped. 

The next morning Gregory did not come down to breakfast. But at aboutten o'clock he started for a short farewell stroll about the oldplace. Annie joined him in the garden. 

"I do not think you were generous last evening, " she said. "Mr. Hunting met you half-way. "

"Did I not do just what I promised?"

"But I was in hopes you would do more, especially when the way wasopened. "

"Do you think, Miss Walton, that Mr. Hunting's manner and feelingstoward me were sincerely cordial and friendly? Was it the prompting ofhis heart, or your influence, that led him to put out his hand?"

Annie blushed, in conscious confusion. "I fear I shall never reconcileyou, " she said, sadly. 

"I fear not, " he replied. "There must be a great change in us bothbefore you can. Though the reason I give you was a sufficient one fornot taking his hand in friendly feeling, it was not the one thatinfluenced me. I would not have taken it under any circumstances. "

"Mr. Gregory, you grieve me most deeply, " she said, in a tone of realdistress. "Won't you, when you come to part, take his hand for mysake, and let a little of the ice thaw?"

"No, " he said, almost sternly; "not even for your sake, for whom Iwould die, will I be dishonest with myself or him; and you are not oneto ask me to act a lie. "

"You wound me deeply, sir!" she said, coldly. 

"Faithful are the wounds of a friend, " he replied. She did not answer. 

"We shall not part in this way, Annie, " he said, in a low, troubledvoice. 

"The best I can do is to give you credit for very mistaken sincerity, "she answered, sadly. 

"That is all now, I fear, " replied he, gently. "Good-by, Annie Walton. We are really parting now. My mission to you is past, and we go ourdifferent ways. You will never believe anything I can say on thispainful subject, and I would not have spoken of it again of my ownaccord. Keep your promise to me, and all will yet be well, I believe. As that poor woman who saved us in the mountains said, 'There will atleast be one good thing about me. Whether I can pray for myself ornot, I shall daily pray for you'; and I feel that God who shielded youso strangely once, will still guard you. Do not grieve because I goaway with pain in my heart. It's a better kind of suffering than thatwith which I came, and lasting good may come out of it, for my oldreckless despair is gone. If I ever do become a good man--a Christian--I shall have you to thank; and even heaven would be happier if youwere the means of bringing me there. "

"When you speak that way, Walter, " she said, tears starting to hereyes, "I must forgive everything; and when you become a Christian youwill love even your enemy. Please take this little package from me, but do not open it till you reach the quiet and seclusion of your ownrooms. Good-by, my brother, for as such my father told me to act andfeel toward you, and from my heart I obey. "

He looked at her with moistened eyes, but did not trust himself toanswer, and without another word they returned to the house. 

Gregory's leave-taking from the rest of the household was no mereform. Especially was this true of Miss Eulie, to whom he said mostfeelingly, "Miss Morton, my mother could not have been kinder or morepatient with me. "

When he pressed Zibbie's hand and left a banknote in it, she broke outin the broadest Scotch, "Maister Gregory, an' when I think me auldgray head would ha' been oot in the stourm wi' na hame to cover it, Ipray the gude God to shelter yours fra a' the cauld blasts o' thewourld. "

Silent Hannah, alike favored, seemed afflicted with a sudden attack ofSt. Vitus's dance, so indefinite was the number of her courtesies;while Jeff, on the driver's seat, looked as solemn as if he were todrive Gregory to the cemetery instead of the depot. 

At the moment of final parting, Gregory merely took Annie's hand andlooked into her eyes with an expression that caused them speedily todroop, tear-blinded. 

To Hunting he had bowed his farewell in the parlor. 

When the last object connected with his old home was hidden from hiswistful, lingering gaze, he said, with the sorrow of one who watchesthe sod placed above the grave of his dearest, "So it all ends. "

But when in his city apartments, which never before had seemed such acheerless mockery of the idea of home, he opened the package Annie hadgiven him--when he found a small, worn Bible, inscribed with thewords, "To my dear little daughter Annie, from mother, " and writtenbeneath, in a child's hand, "I thank you, dear mother. I will read itevery day"--he sprang up, and exclaimed it strongest feeling, "No, allhas not ended yet. "

When he became sufficiently calm he again took up the Bible, and foundthe leaves turned down at the 14th chapter of St. John, with thewords, "Begin here. "

He read, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believealso in me. 

"In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I wouldhave told you. I go to prepare a place for you. "

"How sweetly--with what exquisite delicacy--she points me beyond theshadows of time!" he said, musingly. "I believe in God. I ever have. Then why not _trust_ the 'Man of Sorrows, ' who also must be God? BothAnnie and her quaint old friend are right. He never turned one awaywho came sincerely. In Him who forgave the outcast and thief thereglimmers hope for me. How thick the darkness as I look elsewhere. LordJesus, " he cried, with a rush of tears, "I am palsied through sin:lift me up, that I may come to Thee. "

Better for him that night than a glowing hearth with genial friendsaround it was Annie's Bible. 

Looking at it fondly, he said, "It links me to her happy childhoodbefore that false man came, and it may join me to her in the 'place'which God is preparing, when he who now deceives her is as far removedas sin. "

CHAPTER XXXII

AT SEA--A MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER

Immediately after Mr. Walton's funeral Miss Eulie had written to abrother-in-law, then, in Europe, full particulars of all that hadoccurred. This gentleman's name was Kemp, and he had originallymarried a sister of Miss Eulie and Mrs. Walton. But she had died someyears since, and he had married as his second wife one who was anentire stranger to the Walton family, and with whom there could be butlittle sympathy. For this reason, though no unfriendliness existed, there had been a natural falling-off of the old cordial intimacy. Mr. Walton had respected Mr. Kemp as a man of sterling worth andunimpeachable integrity, and his feelings were shared by Miss Eulieand Annie, while Mr. Kemp himself secretly cherished a tender andregretful memory of his earlier marriage connection. When he heardthat his niece, Annie, was orphaned, his heart yearned toward her, forhe had always been fond of her as a child. But when he came to read ofher relations with Hunting, and that this man was in charge of herproperty, he was in deep distress. He would have returned homeimmediately, but his wife's health would not permit his leaving her. He wrote to Miss Eulie a long letter of honest sympathy, urging herand Annie to come to him at Paris, saying that the change would be ofgreat benefit to both. 

This letter was expressed in such a way that it could be shown toAnnie. But he inclosed another under seal to the aunt, marked private, in which by strong and guarded language he warned her against Hunting. He did not dare commit definite charges to writing, not knowing howmuch influence Hunting had over Miss Eulie. He felt sure that Anniewould not listen to anything against her lover, and justly feared thatshe would inform him of what she heard, thus putting him on his guard, and increasing his power for mischief. Mr. Kemp's hope was to actthrough Miss Eulie, and get both her and Annie under his protection assoon as possible. He knew that when he was face to face with Annie hecould prove to her the character of her lover, and through her compelhim to resign his executorship. Therefore he solemnly charged MissEulie, as she loved Annie, not to permit her marriage with Hunting, and, as executrix, to watch his financial management closely. 

Miss Eulie was greatly distressed by the contents of this letter. Mr. Kemp's words, combined with Gregory's manner, destroyed her confidencein Hunting, and made her feel that he might cause them irretrievabledisaster. She knew her brother to be a man of honor, and when he wrotesuch words as these, "If Mr. Walton had known Hunting as I do he wouldrather have buried his daughter than permit her to marry him, " she wassure that he did not speak unadvisedly. 

"Moreover, " Mr. Kemp wrote, "I am not giving my mere opinion ofHunting. I have absolute proof of what he is and has done. "

But it was his opinion that it would not be safe to reveal to Anniethe contents of this letter, as Hunting, in the desperation of hisfears, might find means to compass a hasty marriage, or disastrouslyuse his power over her property. 

As we have seen, in quiet home-ministerings Miss Eulie had nosuperior, but she felt peculiarly timid and self-distrustful indealing with matters like these. Her first impulse and her growingdesire were that she and Annie might reach the shelter and protectionof her brother. She did not understand business, and felt powerless tothwart Hunting. 

Annie's spirits greatly flagged after her father's death. Hunting didnot seem to have the power to comfort and help her that she hadexpected to find in him. She could not definitely find fault with asingle act, save his treatment of Gregory; he was devotion itself toher, but it was to her alone. He proved no link between her and God. Even when in careful phrases he sought to use the "language ofCanaan, " he did not speak it as a native, and ever left a vague, unsatisfied pain in her heart. He was true and strong when he spoke ofhis own love. He was eloquent and glowing when his fancy painted theirfuture home, but cold and formal in comparison when he dwelt on thatwhich her Christian nature most needed in her deep affliction. 

When Annie found that she could leave the children in charge of acareful, trustworthy relative, she was readily persuaded into the planof going abroad. She felt the need of change, for her health had begunto fail, and she was sinking into one of those morbid states which arepartly physical and partly mental. 

Hunting, also, strongly approved of the project. Business wouldrequire him to visit Europe during the winter, and in having Annie asa companion he thought himself fortunate indeed. He felt sure that assoon as she regained her health and spirits she would consent to theirmarriage; moreover, it would place the sea between her and Gregory, thus averting all danger of disclosure. A trip abroad promised tofurther his interests in all respects. He knew nothing of Mr. Kempsave as a New York business man, and supposed that Mr. Kemp had only ageneral and favorable knowledge of himself. 

For Annie's sake and her own Miss Eulie tried to prevent any markedchange in her manner toward Hunting, and though she was not a verygood actress he did not care enough about her to notice her occasionalrestraints and formality of manner. But Annie did, and it was anothersource of vague uneasiness and pain, though the causes were toointangible to speak of. She thought it possible that Gregory hadprejudiced her aunt slightly. But it was her nature to prove all themore loyal to Hunting, especially when he was so devoted to her. 

Before they could complete arrangements for departure, Annie was takenseriously ill, and January of the ensuing year had nearly passedbefore she was strong enough for the journey. During her illness noone could have been more kind and attentive than Hunting, and Anniefelt exceedingly grateful. Still, in their prolonged and closeintimacy since her father's death, something in the man himself hadcaused her love for him to wane. She had a growing consciousness thathe was not what she had supposed. She reproached herself bitterly forthis, and under the sense of the wrong she felt herself doing him, wasdisposed to show more deference to his wishes, and in justice to himto try to make amends. When, therefore, he again urged that themarriage take place before they sailed, giving as his reasons that hecould take better care of her, and that henceforth she could be withhim, and that he would not be compelled to leave her so often onaccount of his business, she was half inclined to yield. She felt thatthe marriage-tie would confirm her true feelings as a wife, and thatit was hardly fair to ask him to be away from his large and exactingbusiness so much, especially when he had appeared so generous in thetime he had given her, which must have involved to him serious lossand inconvenience. She said to herself, "I shall be better andhappier, and so will Charles, when I cease secretly finding fault withhim, and devote myself unselfishly to making a good wife and a goodhome. "

Hunting exultantly thought that he would carry his point, but MissEulie proved she was not that nonentity which, in his polite andattentive indifference, he had secretly considered her. With quietfirmness she said that, as Annie's natural guardian, she would notgive her consent to the marriage. As a reason she said, "I think itwould show a great lack of respect and courtesy to Annie's uncle andmy brother, who is so fond of her, and has been so kind. I see nopressing need for the marriage now, for I am going with Annie and cantake care of her as I have done. If it seems best, you can be marriedover there, and I know that Mr. Kemp would feel greatly hurt if weacted as if we were indifferent to his presence at the ceremony. "

The moment her aunt expressed this view Annie agreed with her, andHunting felt that he could not greatly complain, as the marriage wouldbe delayed but a few weeks. 

Annie felt absolved from her promise to Gregory by an event thatoccurred not very long after his departure. Gregory had sent a box, directed to Miss Eulie's care, containing some toys and books for thechildren, and the promised tobacco for Daddy Tuggar, also a note forAnnie, inclosed in one to Miss Eulie, in which were these words only, "If you had searched the world you could not have given me anythingthat I would value more. "

In his self-distrust, and in his purpose not to give the slightestground for the imputation that he had sought her promise of delay toobtain time to gain a hearing himself, he had said no more. But Anniethought that he might have said more. The note seemed cold and briefin view of all that had passed between them. Still, she hoped muchfrom the influence of her Bible. 

One evening Hunting came up from the city evidently much disturbed. Toher expressions of natural solicitude he replied, "I don't like tospeak of it, for you seem to think that I ought to stand everythingfrom Mr. Gregory. And so I suppose I ought, and indeed I was grateful, but one can't help having the natural feelings of a man. I was withsome friends and met him face to face in an omnibus. Knowing how greatwas your wish that we should be friendly, I spoke courteously to him, but he looked at me as if I were a dog. He might as well have struckme. I saw that my friends were greatly surprised, but of course Icould not explain there, and yet it's not pleasant to be treated likea pickpocket, with no redress. I defy him, " continued Hunting, assuming the tone and manner of one greatly wronged, "to proveanything worse against me than that I compelled him and his partnersto pay money to which I had a legal right, and which I could havecollected in a court of law. "

The politic Hunting said nothing of moral right, and innocent Anniewas not on the lookout for such quibbles. 

Her quick feelings were strongly stirred, and on the impulse of themoment she sat down and wrote:

"Mr. Gregory--I think your course toward Mr. Hunting to-day was notonly unjust, but even ungentlemanly. You cannot hurt his feelingswithout wounding mine. I cannot help feeling that your hostility isboth 'unreasonable and implacable. ' In sadness and disappointment, "Annie Walton. "

"There, " she said, "read that, and please mail it for me. "

"That's my noble Annie, " he said, gratefully. "Now you prove your loveanew, and show you will not stand quietly by and see me insulted. "

"You may rest assured I will not, " she said, promptly; adding verysadly after a moment, "I cannot understand how Mr. Gregory, with allhis good qualities, can act so. "

"You do not know him so well as I do, " said Hunting; "and yet even Ifeel grateful to him for his services to you, and would show it if hewould treat me decently. "

"He shall treat you decently, and politely too, if he wishes to keepmy favor, " said she, hotly. 

But the next day, when she thought it all over quietly, she regrettedthat she had written so harshly. "My words will not help my Bible'sinfluence, " she thought in self-reproach, "and only when he becomes aChristian will he show a different disposition. "

Her regret would have been still deeper, if she had known that Huntinghad sent her note with one from himself to this effect:

"You perceive from the inclosed that you cannot insult me as you didyesterday and still retain the favor of one whose esteem you value_too highly_ perhaps. My only regret is that you were not a witness tothe words and manner which accompanied the act of writing. "

Still stronger would have been her indignation had she known thatHunting had greatly exaggerated his insult. Gregory had merely actedas if unconscious of his presence, and there had been no look ofscorn. 

When Gregory received the missives he tossed Hunting's contemptuouslyinto the fire, but read Annie's more than once, sighed deeply, andsaid, "He keeps his ascendency over her. O God! quench not my spark offaith by permitting this great wrong to be consummated. " Then heindorsed on her note, "Forgiven, my dear, deceived sister. You willunderstand in God's good time. "

But he felt that God must unravel the problem, for Annie would listento nothing against her lover. 

She hoped that Gregory would write an explanation, or at least somewords in self-defence, and then she meant to soften her hasty note, but no answer came. This increased her depression, and she wassurprised at her strong and abiding interest in him. She could notunderstand how their eventful acquaintance should end as it promisedto. Then came her illness, and through many long, sleepless hours, shethought of the painful mystery. 

As she recovered strength of body and mind she felt that it was one ofthose things that she must trustingly put in God's hands and leavethere. This she did, and resolutely and patiently addressed herself tothe duties of her lot. 

As for Gregory, from the first evening of his return to the city, headopted the resolution in regard to Annie's Bible which she, as alittle child, had written in it so many years ago, "I will read itevery day. "

It became his shrine and constant solace. Instead of going to hisclub, as was his former custom, he spent the long, quiet evenings inits study. The more he read the more fascinated he became by its richand varied truths. Sometimes as he was tracing up a line of thoughtthrough its pages, so luminously and beautifully would it develop thatit seemed to him that Annie and his mother, with unseen hands, werepointing the way. Though almost alone in the great city, he grew lessand less lonely, and welcomed the shades of evening, that he mightreturn to a place now sacred to him, where the gift Bible, like aliving presence, awaited him. 

His doubts and fears vanished slowly. His faith kindled even moreslowly; but the teachings of that inspired Book gave him principle, true manhood, and strength to do right, no matter how he felt. He hadhonestly and sturdily resolved to be guided by it, and it did guidehim. He was a Christian, though he did not know it, and would notpresume to call himself such even to himself. In view of his evil pasthe was exceedingly humble and self-distrustful. As Mr. Walton had toldpoor old Daddy Tuggar, he was simply trying to "trust Jesus Christ anddo the best he could. "

But those associated with him in business, and many others, wonderedat the change in him. Old Mr. Burnett, his senior partner, wasespecially delighted, and would often say to him, "I thank God, Mr. Gregory, that you nearly had your neck broken last October"; for thegood old man associated this accident with the change. 

Gregory also began attending church--not a gorgeous temple on FifthAvenue, where he was not needed; but he hunted up an obscure andstruggling mission, and said to the minister, "I am little better thana heathen, but if you will trust me I will do the best I can to helpyou. "

Within a month, through his liberal gifts and energetic labors, theusefulness of the mission was almost doubled. It was touching to seehim humbly and patiently doing the Lord's lowliest work, as if he werenot worthy. He hoped that in time he might receive the glad assurancethat he was accepted; but whether it came or not, he purposed to dothe best he could, and leave his fate in God's hands. At any rate Godseemed not against him, for both his business and his Christian workprospered. 

One bright morning late in January, Annie, Miss Eulie, and Huntingwere driven down, to the steamer, and having gone to their state-roomsand seen that their luggage was properly stowed away, they came up ondeck to watch the scenes attending the departure of the great ship, and observe the views as they sailed down the bay. Hunting had toldthem to make the most of this part of the voyage, for in a winterpassage it might be long before they could enjoy another promenade. 

Annie was intensely interested, for all was new and strange. She had akeen, quick eye for character, and a human interest in humanity, eventhough those around her did not belong to her "set. " Therefore it waswith appreciative eyes that she watched the motley groups of herfellow-passengers waving handkerchiefs and exchanging farewells withequally diversified groups on the wharf. 

"It seems, " she said to her aunt, "as if all the world had sent theirrepresentatives here. It makes me almost sad that there is no one tosee us off. "

Then her eye rested upon a gentleman who evidently had no one to seehim off. He was leaning on the railing upon the opposite side of theship, smoking a cigar. His back was toward all this bustle andconfusion, and he seemed to have an air of isolation and ofindifference to what was going on about him. His tall person was cladin a heavy overcoat, which seemed to combine comfort with elegance, and gave to him, even in his leaning posture, a distingue air. Butthat which drew Annie's attention was the difference of his mannerfrom that of all others, who were either excited by theirsurroundings, or were turning wistfully and eagerly toward friendswhom it might be long before they saw again. The motionless, apatheticfigure, smoking quietly, with his hat drawn down over his eyes, andlooking away from everything and everybody, came to have a fascinationfor her. 

The steamer slowly and majestically moved out into the stream. Shouts, cries, final words, hoarse orders from the officers--a perfect babelof sounds--filled the air, but the silently-curling smoke-wreaths werethe only suggestion of life from that strangely indifferent form. Heseemed like one so deeply absorbed in his own thoughts that he wouldhave to be awakened as from sleep. 

Suddenly he turned and came toward them with the air of one who feelshimself alone, though jostled in a crowd, and instantly, with astrange thrill at heart, Annie recognized Walter Gregory. 

Hunting saw him also, and Annie noted that, while the blackest frowngathered on his brow, he grew very pale. 

In his absorption, Gregory would have passed by them, but Annie said, "Mr. Gregory, are you not going to speak to us?"

He started violently, and his face mantled with hot blood, and Anniealso felt that she was blushing unaccountably. But he recoveredinstantly, and came and shook her hand most cordially, saying, "Thisis a strangely unexpected pleasure. And Miss Morton, also! When was Iever so fortunate before?"

Then he saw Hunting, to whom he bowed with his old, distant manner, and Hunting returned the acknowledgment in the most stiff and formalway. 

"Do you know, " said Annie, "I have been watching you with curiosityfor some time past, though I did not know who you were till youturned. I could not account for your apathy and indifference to thisscene, which to me is so novel and exciting, and which seems to findevery one interested save yourself. I should hardly have thought youalive if you had not been smoking. "

"Well, " he said, "I have been abroad so often that it has become likecrossing the ferry, and I was expecting no one down to see me off. Butyou do not look well;" and both she and Miss Eulie noticed that heglanced uneasily from her to Hunting, and did not seem sure how heshould address her. 

"Miss Walton has just recovered from a long illness, " said Miss Eulie, quietly. 

His face instantly brightened, and as quickly changed to an expressionof sincerest sympathy. 

"Not seriously ill, I hope, " he said, earnestly. 

"I'm afraid I was, " replied Annie, adding, cheerfully, "I am quitewell now, though. "

His face became as pale as it had been flushed a moment before, and hesaid, in a low tone, "I did not know it. "

His manner touched her, and proved that there was no indifference onhis part toward her, though there might be to the bustling worldaround him. 

Then he inquired particularly after each member of the household, andespecially after old Daddy Tuggar. 

Annie told him how delighted the children had been with the toys andbooks. "And as for Daddy Tuggar, " she said, smiling, "he has been inthe clouds, literally and metaphorically, ever since you sent him thetobacco. Whenever I go to see him he says, most cheerfully, 'It's allsettled, Miss Annie. It grows clearer with every pipe' (while I canscarcely see him), 'I'm all right, 'cause I'm an awful sinner. '"

She was rather surprised at the look of glad sympathy which Gregorygave her, but he only said, "He is to be envied. "

Then at her request he began to point out the objects of interest theywere passing, and with quiet courtesy drew Hunting into theconversation, who rather ungraciously permitted it because he couldnot help himself. 

Annie again, with pain, saw the unfavorable contrast of her lover withthis man, who certainly proved himself the more finished gentleman, ifnothing else. 

With almost a child's delight she said, "You have no idea how noveland interesting all this is to me, though so old and matter-of-fact toyou. I have always wanted to cross the ocean, and look forward to thisvoyage with unmingled pleasure. "

"I'm sincerely sorry such a disastrous change is so soon to take placein your sensations, for it will be rough outside to-day, and I fearyou and Miss Morton will soon be suffering from the most forlorn andprosaic of maladies. "

"I won't give up to it, " said Annie, resolutely. 

"I have no doubt, " he replied, humorously, "as our quaint old friendused to say, that you are 'well meanin', ' but we must all submit tofate. I fear you will soon be confined to the dismal lower regions. "

"Are you sick?"

"I was at first. "

His prediction was soon verified. From almost a feeling of rapture anda sense of the sublime as they looked out upon the broad Atlantic withits tumultuous waves, the ladies suddenly became silent, and glancednervously toward the stairway that led to the cabin. 

Gregory promptly gave his arm to Miss Eulie, while Hunting followedwith Annie, and that was the last appearance of the ladies for threedays. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

COLLISION AT SEA--WHAT A CHRISTIAN COULD DO

On the morning of the fourth day, as the sea had become more calm, theladies ventured upon deck for a short time. Gregory immediately joinedthem and complimented their courage in coming out during a wintervoyage. 

"Nature and I are friends all the year round, " said Annie, with afaint attempt at a smile, for she was still sick and faint. "I ratherlike her wild, rough moods. It has been a great trial to my patienceto lie in my berth, helpless and miserable from what you well term a'prosaic malady, ' when I was longing to see the ocean. Now that wehave made a desperate attempt to reach deck, there is nothing to see. Do you think this dense fog will last long?"

"I hope not, especially for your sake. But do not regret coming out, for you will soon feel better for it. "

"I do already; I believe I could live out of doors. Have you beenill?"

"O no; I should have been a sailor. "

"Mr. Hunting has fared almost as badly as we, " said Annie, determinedthat they should make one group. 

"Indeed! I'm sorry, " said Gregory, quietly. 

"I hate the ocean, " snarled Hunting, with a grim, white face; "I'malways sick. "

"And I'm afraid of it, " said Miss Eulie. "How can they find their waythrough such a mist? Then, we might run into something. "

"In any case you are safe, Miss Morton, " said Gregory, with a smile. 

She gave him a bright look and replied, "I trust we all are. But thesea is rough, boisterous, treacherous, and mysterious, just thequalities I don't like. What a perfect emblem of mystery this fog isthrough which we are going so rapidly!"

"Well, " said Gregory, with one of his expressive shrugs, "I find allthese experiences equally on the land, especially the latter. "

Annie gave him a quick, inquiring look, while color came into evenHunting's pale face. 

Annie felt no little curiosity as to Gregory's developing character, for though he had said nothing definite, his softened manner and quietdignity made him seem very unlike his old self. 

"How do you pass your time?" she asked. 

"Well, I read a great deal, and I take considerable exercise, for Iwish fully to regain my health. "

She gave him a grateful look. He was keeping his promise. She said, "You look very much better than I expected to see you, and I'm veryglad, for you were almost ghostly when you left us. What do you findso interesting to read?"

His color rose instantly, but he said with a smile, "A good old bookthat I brought with me. "

The expression of his face answered her swift, questioning look. Itwas her Bible. Neither Miss Eulie nor Hunting understood why shebecame so quiet; but the latter, who was watching them closely, thought he detected some secret understanding. In his jealous egotismit could only mean what was adverse to himself, and he had an attackof something worse than sea-sickness. 

Gregory quietly turned the conversation upon ocean travel, and for ahalf-hour entertained the ladies without any effort on their part, andthen they went back to their state-rooms. 

By evening the ship was running so steadily that they all came out tosupper. Gregory, who was a personal friend of the captain, had securedthem a place near the head of the table, where they received the bestof attention. Annie, evidently, was recovering rapidly, and took agenuine interest in the novel life and scenes around her. She foundherself vis-a-vis and side by side with great diversities ofcharacter, and listened with an amused, intelligent face to the briskconversation. She noted with surprise that Gregory seemed quite afavorite, but soon saw the reason in his effort to make the hour passpleasantly to his fellow-passengers. The captain had given him a seatat his right hand, and appealed to him on every disputed point thatwas outside of his special province. 

She was also pleased to see how Gregory toned up the table-talk andskilfully led it away from disagreeable topics. But he had a ratherdifficult task, for, sitting near her, was a man whose ostentatiousdress reflected his character and words. 

Some one was relating an anecdote of a narrow escape, and anotherremarked, "That's what I should call a special Providence. "

"Special Providence!" said Annie's loud neighbor, contemptuously. "Agrown man is very weak-minded to believe in any Providence whatever. "

There was a shocked, pained expression on many faces, and Annie's eyesflashed with indignation. She turned to Hunting, expecting him toresent such an insult to their faith, but saw only a cold sneer on hisface. Hunting was decidedly English in his style, and would travelaround the world and never speak to a stranger, or make anacquaintance, if he could help it. Then, instinctively, she turned toGregory. He was looking fixedly at the man, whose manner had attractedgeneral attention. But he only said, "Then I am very weak-minded. "

There was a general expression of pleased surprise and sympathy on thefaces of those who understood his reply, while the captain stared athim in some astonishment. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " said the man; "I meant nothing personal. Itwas only a rather blunt way of saying that I didn't believe in anysuch things myself. "

"I give you credit for your honesty, but some of us do. "

"Then you pretend to be a Christian?"

"I should not _pretend_ to be one under any circumstances, " saidGregory, with the perfection of quiet dignity, "and I am very sorry tosay that I am not so favored. But I have full belief in a Providence, both special and general. "

"I like your honesty, too, " said the man, seemingly anxious for anargument. "By the word 'pretend' I only meant claim, or assert. But itseems to me that the facts in the case are all against your belief. Ifind nothing but law in the universe. You might as well say that thisship is run by special Providence, when, in fact, it is run byaccurately gauged machinery, system, and rules. "

"Now your argument is lame, " said the captain, laughing. "We haveplenty of good machinery, system, and rules aboard, but if I wasn'taround, looking after everything all the time, as a specialProvidence, I'm afraid you'd find salt water before Liverpool. "

A general laugh followed this sally, and Gregory said: "And so Ibelieve that the Divine Providence superintends His own laws andsystem. I think my friend the captain has given a most happyillustration of the truth, and I had no idea he was so good atheologian. "

"That's not an argument, " said the man, considerably crestfallen. "That's only a joke. "

"By the way, Mr. Gregory, it seems to me that your views have changedsince you crossed with me last, " remarked the captain. 

"I frankly admit they have, " was the prompt reply. "Perhaps I canexplain myself by the following question: If you find, by a carefulobservation, that you are heading your ship the wrong way, what do youdo?"

"Put her about on the right course. "

"That is just what I have tried to do, sir. I think my meaning isplain?"

"Nothing could be clearer, and I'd rather be aboard now than when youwere on the old tack. "

Annie gave Gregory a glance of glad, grateful approval that warmed hisheart like sunshine. 

Hunting said, enviously, _sotto voce_, "I think such conversation at apublic table wretched taste. "

"I cannot agree with you, " said Annie, decidedly; "but, granting it, Mr. Gregory did not introduce the subject, and I wish you had spokenas he did when every Christian at the table was insulted. "

He colored deeply, but judiciously said nothing. 

With increasing pain she thought, "He who says he is not a Christianacts more like one than he who claims the character. "

But she now had the strongest hopes for Gregory, and longed for aprivate talk with him. 

The next day it blew quite a gale, and Hunting and Miss Eulie werehelplessly confined to their staterooms. But Annie had become asailor, and having done all she could for her aunt, came upon deck, where she saw Gregory walking back and forth with almost thesteadiness of one of the ship's officers. 

She tried to go to him, but would have fallen had he not seen her andreached her side almost at a bound. With a gentleness and tendernessas real as delicate, he placed her in a sheltered nook where she couldsee the waves in their mad sport, and said, "Now you can see old oceanin one of his best moods. The wind, though strong, is right abaft, filling all the sails they dare carry, and we are making grandprogress. "

"How wonderful it is!" cried Annie, looking with a child's interestupon the scene. "Just see those briny mountains, with foam and sprayfor foliage. If our own Highlands with their mingled evergreens andsnow were changed from granite to water, and set in this wild motion, it could hardly seem more strange and sublime. Look at that greatmonster coming so threateningly toward us. It seems as if we should beengulfed beyond a chance. "

"Now see how gracefully the ship will surmount it, " said Gregory, smiling. 

"O dear!" said she, sighing, "if we could only rise above our troublesin the same way!" Then, feeling that she had touched on delicateground, she hastened to add, "This boundless waste increases my oldchildish wonder how people ever find their way across the ocean. "

"The captain is even now illustrating your own teaching and practicein regard to the longer and more difficult voyage of life, " saidGregory, meaningly. "He is 'looking up'--taking an observation of theheavens, and will soon know just where we are and how to steer. "

Annie looked at him wistfully, and said, in a low tone, "I was so gladto learn, last evening, that you had taken an observation also, and Iwas so very grateful, too, that you had the courage to defend ourfaith. "

"I have to thank you that I could do either. It was really you whospoke. "

"No, Mr. Gregory, " she said, gently, "my work for you reached itslimit. God is leading you now. "

"I try to hope so, " he said; "but it was your hand that placed in minethat by which He is leading me. He surely must have put it into yourheart to give me that Bible. When I reached my cheerless rooms in NewYork I felt so lonely and low-spirited that I had not the courage togo a single step further. But your Bible became a living, comfortingpresence from that night. What exquisite tact you showed in giving methat little worn companion of your childhood, instead of a new gilt-leaved one, with no associations. I first hoped that you might with itgive me also something of your childhood's faith. But that does notcome yet. That does not come. "

"It will, " said she, earnestly, and with moistened eyes. 

"That, now, is one of my dearest hopes. But after what I have been, Iam not worthy that it should come soon. But if I perish myself I wantto try to help others. "

Then he asked, in honest distrustfulness, "Do you think it right forone who is not a Christian to try to teach others?"

"Before I answer that question I wish to ask a little more aboutyourself;" and she skilfully drew him out, he speaking more openly inview of the question to be decided than he would otherwise have done. He told of the long evenings spent over her Bible; of his missionwork, and of his honest effort to deal justly with all; at the sametime dwelling strongly on his doubts and spiritual darkness, and theunspent influences of his old evil life. 

The answer was different from what he expected; for she said: "Mr. Gregory, why do you say that you are not a Christian?"

"Because I feel that I am not. "

"Does feeling merely make a Christian?" she asked. "Is not action morethan feeling? Do not trusting, following, serving, and seeking toobey, make a Christian? But suppose that even with your present_feeling_ you were living at the time of Christ's visible presence onearth, would you be hostile or indifferent, or would you join His bandeven though small and despised?"

"I think I would do the latter, if permitted. "

"I know you would, from your course last night. And do you think Jesuswould say, 'Because you are not an emotional man like Peter, you areno friend of mine'? Why, Mr. Gregory, He let even Judas Iscariot, though with unworthy motive, follow Him as long as he would, givinghim a chance to become true. "

"Miss Walton, do not mislead me in this matter. You know howimplicitly I trust you. "

"And I would rather cast myself over into those waves than deceiveyou, " she said; "and if I saw them swallowing you up I should asconfidently expect to meet you again, as my father. How strange it isyou can believe that Jesus died for you and yet will not receive youwhen you are doing just that which He died to accomplish. "

He took a few rapid turns up and down the deck and then leaned overthe railing. She saw that he brushed more than one tear into thewaves. At last he turned and gave his hand in warm pressure, saying, "I cannot doubt you, and I will doubt Him no longer. I see that I havewronged Him, and the thought causes me sorrow even in my joy. "

"Now you are my brother in very truth, " she said, gently, with gladtears in her own eyes. "All that we have passed through has not beenin vain. How wonderfully God has led us!"

It was a long time before either spoke again. 

At last he said, with a strange, wondering smile, "To think that suchas I should ever reach heaven! As Daddy Tuggar says, 'there will begood neighbors there. '"

She answered him by a happy smile, and then both were busy with theirown thoughts again. Annie was thinking how best to introduce thesubject so near her heart, his reconciliation with Hunting. 

But that gentleman had become so tortured with jealousy and so alarmedat the thought of any prolonged conference between Annie and Gregory, that he dragged himself on deck. As he watched them a moment beforethey saw him, he was quite reassured. Gregory was merely standing nearAnnie, and both were looking away to sea, as if they had nothingspecial to say to each other. Annie was pained to see that Gregory'smanner did not change toward Hunting. He was perfectly polite, butnothing more; soon he excused himself, thinking they would like to bealone. 

In the afternoon she found a moment to say, "Mr. Gregory, will younever become reconciled to Mr. Hunting? You surely cannot hate himnow?"

He replied, gravely, "I do not hate him any longer. I would do him anykindness in my power, and that is a great deal for me to say. But Mr. Hunting has no real wish for reconciliation. "

In bitter sorrow she was compelled to admit to herself the truth ofhis words. After a moment he added, "If he does he knows the exactterms on which it can be effected. "

She could not understand it, and reproached herself bitterly that somany doubts in regard to her affianced would come unbidden, and forcethemselves on her mind. The feeling grew stronger that there was wrongon both sides, and perhaps the more on Hunting's. 

That was a memorable day to Gregory. It seemed to him that Annie'shand had drawn aside the sombre curtain of his unbelief, and shown thepath of light shining more and more unto the perfect day. Thoughcomparatively lonely, he felt that his pilgrimage could not now beunhappy, and that every sorrow would at last find its cure. In regardto her earthly future he could only hope and trust. It would be aterrible trial to his faith if she were permitted to marry Hunting, and yet he was sure it would all be well at last; for was it not saidthat God's people would come to their rest out of "great tribulation"?She had given him the impression that, under any circumstances, herlove for him could only be sisterly in its character. 

But he was too happy in his new-born hope to think of much else thatday; and, finding a secluded nook, he searched Annie's Bible fortruths confirmatory of her words. On every side they glowed as inletters of light. Then late that night he went on deck, and in hisstrong excitement felt as if walking on air in his long, glad vigil. 

At last, growing wearied, he leaned upon the railing and looked outupon the dark waves--not dark to him, for the wanderer at last hadseen the light of his heavenly home, and felt that it would cheer hisway till the portals opened and received him into rest. 

Suddenly, upon the top of a distant wave, something large and whiteappeared, and then sank into an ocean valley. Again it rose--a sail, then the dark hull of a ship. 

In dreamy musing he began, wondering how, in mid-ocean, with so manyleagues of space, two vessels should cross each other's track so near. "It's just the same with human lives, " he thought. "A few months oryears ago, people that I never knew, and might have passed on thewider ocean of life, unknowing and uncaring, have now come so near!Why is it? Why does that ship, with the whole Atlantic before it, comeso steadily toward us?"

It did come so steadily and so near that a feeling of uneasinesstroubled him, but he thought that those in charge knew their businessbetter than he. 

A moment later he started forward. The ship that had come so silentlyand phantom-like across the waves seemed right in the path of thesteamer. 

Was it not a phantom?

No; there's a white face at the wheel--the man is making a sudden, desperate effort--it's too late. 

With a crash like thunder the seeming phantom ship plows into thesteamer's side. 

For a moment Gregory was appalled, stunned; and stared at the fatalintruder that fell back in strong rebound, and dropped astern. 

Then he became conscious of the confusion, and awakening uproar onboth vessels. Cries of agony, shouts of alarm, and hoarse orderspierced the midnight air. He ran forward and saw the yawning cavernwhich the blow had made in the ship's side, and heard the rush ofwater into the hold. Across the chasm he saw the captain's pale facelooking down with a dismay like his own. 

"The ship will sink, and soon, " Gregory shouted. 

There was no denial. 

Down to the startled passengers he rushed, crying, "Awake! Escape foryour lives!"

His words were taken up and echoed in every part of the ship. 

He struck a heavy blow upon the door of Annie's stateroom. "MissWalton!"

"Oh, what has happened?" she asked. 

"You and Miss Morton come on deck, instantly; don't stop to dress;snatch a shawl--anything. Lose not a moment. What is Hunting'snumber?"

"Forty, on the opposite side. "

"I will be back in a moment; be ready. "

Hunting's state-room was so near where the steamer had been struckthat its door was jammed and could not be opened. 

"Help! help! I can't get out, " shrieked the terrified man. 

Gregory wrenched a leaf from a dining-room table and pried the dooropen. 

"Come, " he said, "you've no time to dress. "

Hunting wrapped his trembling form in a blanket and gasped, as hefollowed, "I'll pay you back every cent of that money with interest. "

"Make your peace with God. We may soon be before Him, " was the awfulresponse. 

Miss Eulie and Annie stood waiting, draped in heavy shawls. 

"I'm sorry for the delay; Hunting's door was jammed and had to bebroken open. Come;" and putting his arm around Miss Eulie and takingAnnie's hand, he forced them rapidly through the increasing throng ofterror-stricken passengers that were rushing in all directions. 

Even then, with a strange thrill at heart, Annie thought, "He hassaved his enemy's life. "

He took them well aft, and said, "Don't move; stand just here until Ireturn, " and then pushed his way to the point where a frantic crowdwere snatching for the life preservers which were being given out. Theofficer, knowing him, tossed him four as requested. 

Coming back, he said to Hunting, "Fasten that one on Miss Morton andkeep the other. " Throwing down his own for a moment, he proceeded tofasten Annie's. He would not trust the demoralized Hunting to doanything for her, and he was right, for Hunting's hands so trembledthat he was helpless. Having seen that Annie's was secured beyond adoubt, Gregory also tied on Miss Eulie's. 

In the meantime a passenger snatched his own preserving-belt, which hehad been trying to keep by placing his foot upon it. 

"Stop, " Annie cried. "O Mr. Gregory! he has taken it and you havenone. You shall have mine;" and she was about to unfasten it. 

He laid a strong grasp upon her hands. "Stop such folly, " he said, sternly. "Come to where they are launching that boat. You have nochoice;" and he forced her forward while Hunting followed with MissEulie. 

They stood waiting where the lantern's glare fell upon their faces, with many others more pale and agonized. 

Annie clung to him as her only hope (for Hunting seemed almostparalyzed with fear), and whispered, "Will you the same as die for meagain?"

"Yes, God bless you! a thousand times if there were need, " he said, intones whose gentleness equalled the harshness of his former words. 

She looked at him wonderingly. There was no fear upon his face, onlyunspeakable love for her. 

"Are you not afraid?" she asked. 

"You said I was a Christian to-day, and your Bible and God's voice inmy heart have confirmed your words. No, I am at peace in all thisuproar, save anxiety for you. "

She buried her face upon his shoulder. 

"My darling sister!" he murmured in her ear. "How can I ever thank youenough?"

Then he started suddenly, and tearing off the cape of his coat, saidto Hunting, "Fasten that around Miss Morton;" and before Annie quiteknew what he was doing he had taken off the body part and incased herin it. 

"Here, Hunting, your belt is not secure"; and he tightened the straps. 

"Pass the women forward, " shouted the captain. 

Of course those nearest were embarked first. The ladies in Gregory'scharge had to take their turn, and the boat was about full when MissEulie was lowered over the side. 

At that moment the increasing throng, with a deeper realization ofdanger, as the truth of their situation grew plainer, felt the firstmad impulse of panic, and there was a rush toward the boat. Huntingfelt the awful contagion. His face had the look of a hunted wildbeast. Annie gazed wonderingly at him, but as he half-started with theothers for the boat she understood him. Laying a restraining hand uponhis arm, she said, in a low tone, "If you leave my side now, you leaveit forever. "

He cowered back in shame. 

The officer in charge of the boat had shouted, "This boat is for womenand children; as you are men and not brutes, stand back. "

This checked the desperate mob for a moment, and Gregory was about topass Annie down when there was another mad rush led by the blatantindividual who had scouted the idea of Providence. 

"Cut away all, " shouted the captain from the bridge, and the boatdropped astern. 

It was only by fierce effort that Gregory kept himself and Annie frombeing carried over the side by the surging mass, many of whom leapedblindly over, supposing the boat to be still there. 

Pressing their way out they went where another boat was beinglaunched. Hunting followed them like a child, and was as helpless. Henow commenced moaning, "O God! what shall I do? what shall I do?"

"Trust Him, and be a man. What else should you do?" said Gregory, sternly, for he was deeply disgusted at Hunting's behavior. 

Around this boat the officer in charge had placed a cordon of men tokeep the crowd away, and stood pistol in hand to enforce his orders. But the boat was scarcely lowered before there was the same wild rush, mostly on the part of the crew and steerage passengers. The officerfired and brought down the foremost, but the frenzied wretchestrampled him down with those helping, together with women andchildren, as a herd of buffaloes might have done. They poured overinto the boat, swamped it, and as the steamer moved slowly ahead, wereleft struggling and perishing in the waves. 

Gregory had put his arm around Annie and drawn her out of the crush. Fortunately they had been at one side, so that this was possible. 

"The boats are useless, " he said, sadly. "There will be the samesuicidal folly at every one, even if they have time to lower any more. Come aft. That part will sink last, and there will be less suctionthere when the ship goes down. We may find something that will keep usafloat. "

Annie clung to his arm and said, quietly, "I will do just as you say, "while Hunting followed in the same maze of terror. 

They had hardly got well away before a mast, with its rigging, fellwhere they had stood, crushing many and maiming others, rendering themhelpless. 

"Awful! awful" shuddered Hunting, and Annie put her hands before hereyes. 

An officer, with some men, now came toward them with axes, andcommenced breaking up the after wheelhouse. 

"Here is our best chance, " said Gregory. "Let us calmly await thefinal moment and then do the best we can. All this broken timber willfloat, and we can cling to it. "

The ship was settling fast, and had become like a log upon the water, responding slowly and heavily to the action of the waves. But underthe cold, pitiless starlight of that winter night, what heartrendingscenes were witnessed upon her sinking deck! Death had already laidits icy finger on many, and many more were grouped near in despairingexpectation of the same fate. 

While many, like Hunting, were almost paralyzed with fear, and othersshrieked and cried aloud in agony--while some prayed incoherently, andothers rushed back and forth as if demented--there were not wantingnumerous noble examples of faith and courage. Fortunately, there werenot many ladies on board, and most of these proved that woman'sfortitude is not a poetic fiction. One or two family groups stood nearin close embrace, and some men calmly folded their arms across theirbreasts, and met their fate as God would have them. 

Annie was conscious of a strange peace and hopefulness. She thrilledwith the thought which she expressed to Gregory--"How soon I may seefather and mother!"

She stood now with one hand on Hunting's trembling arm, for at thatsupreme moment her heart was very tender, and she pitied while shewondered at him. But Gregory was a tower of strength. He took her handin both his own, and said, "I can say the same, and more. Both fatherand mother are awaiting me--and, Annie, " he whispered, tenderly, "you, too, will be there. So, courage! 'Good neighbors, ' soon. "

Why did her heart beat so strangely at his words?

"O God! have mercy on me!" groaned the man who had _seemed_, but wasnot. 

"Amen!" breathed both Annie and Gregory, fervently. 

Suddenly they felt themselves lifted in the air, and, looking towardthe bow, saw it going under, while what seemed a great wave camerolling toward them, bearing upon its dark crest white, agonized facesand struggling forms. 

Annie gave a swift, inquiring look to Gregory. His face was turnedheavenward, in calm and noble trust. 

Hunting's wild cry mingled with the despairing shriek of many others, but ended in a gurgling groan as he and all sank beneath the waters. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

UNMASKED

It seemed that they passed through miles of water that roared aroundthem like a cataract. But Annie and Gregory held to each other intheir strong, convulsive grasp, and her belt caused him to rise withher to the surface again. A piece of the wheelhouse floated near;Gregory swam for it, and pushing it to Annie helped her upon it. Hunting also grasped it. But it would not sustain the weight of allthree, especially as Gregory had no preserver on. 

One must leave it that the other two might escape. 

"Good-by, Annie, darling, " said Gregory. "We will meet again in heavenif not on earth. Cling to your plank as long as you can, and a boatmay pick you up. Good-by, poor Hunting, I'm sorry for you. "

"What are you going to do?" gasped Annie. 

"Don't you see that this won't float all three? I shall try to findsomething else. "

"No, no, " cried Annie, "don't leave me: you have no belt on. If you goI will too. "

"I once lived for your sake; now you must for mine. I may save myself;but if you leave we shall both drown. Good-by, dearest. If I reachhome first, I'll watch and wait till you come. "

She felt him kiss her hand where she clung to her frail support, andthen he disappeared in the darkness. 

"Why did you let him go?" she said to Hunting--"you who have apreserver on?"

"O God, have mercy on me!" groaned the wretched man. 

Annie now gave up all hope of escape, and indeed wished to die. Shewas almost sure that Gregory had perished, and she felt that her best-loved ones were in heaven. 

She would have permitted herself to be washed away had not a sense ofduty to live until God took her life kept her firm. But every momentit seemed that her failing strength would give way, and her benumbedhands loosen their hold. 

"But, " she murmured in the noblest triumph of faith, "I shall sink, not in these cold depths, but into my Saviour's arms. "

Toward the last, when alone in the very presence of death, He seemednearest and dearest. She could not bear to look at the dark, angrywaters strewn with floating corpses. She had a sickening dread thatGregory's white face might float by. So she closed her eyes, and onlythought of heaven, which was so near that its music seemed to minglewith the surging of the waves. 

She tried to say a comforting word to Hunting, but the terror-strickenman could only groan mechanically, "God have mercy on me!"

Soon she began to grow numb all over. A dreamy peace pervaded hermind, and she was but partially conscious. 

She was aroused by hearing her name called. Did the voice come fromthat shore beyond all dark waves of earthly trouble? At first she wasnot sure. 

Again and louder came the cry, but too full of human agony to be aheavenly voice--

"Annie! Annie!"

"Here!" she cried, faintly, while Hunting, helpful for once, shriekedaloud above the roar of the waves. 

Then she heard the sound of oars, and a moment later strong handslifted her into the boat, and she found herself in Gregory's arms, herhead pillowed on his breast. Then all grew dark. 

When she again became conscious she found herself in a small cabin, with many others in like pitiable plight. Her aunt was bending overher on one side and Gregory on the other, chafing her hands. At firstshe could not remember or understand, and stared vacantly at them. 

"Annie, darling, " said Miss Eulie, "don't you know me?"

Then glad intelligence dawned in her face, and she reached out herarms, and each clasped the other as one might receive the dead back tolife. 

But quickly she turned and asked, "Where is Mr. Gregory?"

"Here, safe and sound, " he said, joyously, "and Hunting, too. I shallbless him all the days of my life, for his cries drowned old ocean'shoarse voice and brought us right to you. "

Hunting looked as if he did not exactly relish the tribute, but hestooped down and kissed Annie, who permitted rather than received thecaress. 

"How did you escape?" she asked Gregory, eagerly. 

"Well, I swam toward the ship that struck us, whose lights I sawtwinkling in the distance, till almost exhausted. I was on the pointof giving up, when a small piece of the wreck floated near. By a greateffort I succeeded in reaching it. Then a little later a boat fromthis ship picked me up and we started after you or any others thatcould be found. I am glad to say that quite a number that went downwith the ship were saved. "

She looked at him in a way to bring the warm blood into his face, andsaid, in a low tone, "How can I ever repay yon?"

"By doing as you once said to me, 'Live! get strong and well. ' Good-bynow. Miss Morton will take care of you. "

Her eyes followed him till he disappeared, then she turned and hid herface on Miss Eulie's shoulder. The good old lady was a little puzzled, and so was Hunting, though he had dismal forebodings. But he was soglad to have escaped that he could not indulge in very bitter regretsjust then. As his mind recovered its poise, however, and he had timeto think it all over, there came a sickening sense of humiliation. 

In a few minutes Gregory returned and said to Annie, "See how honoredyou are. I've been so lucky as to get the captain's best coat for you, and those wet things that would chill you to death can be taken off. You can give my coat to Hunting. You see I was up at the time of theaccident, and so am dressed. "

"If I am to wear the captain's coat, " said Annie, "then, with some ofhis authority, I order you to go and take care of yourself. You havedone enough for others for a little while. "

"Ay, ay, captain, " said Gregory, smiling, as he again vanished. 

It would only be painful to dwell on the dreary days and nights duringwhich the comparatively small sailing vessel was beating back againsta stormy wind to the port from which she had sailed. She had been muchinjured by the collision, and many were doubtful whether, after all, they would ever see land. Thus, to the manifold miseries of therescued passengers, was added continued anxiety as to their fate. Itwas, indeed, a sad company that was crowded in that small cabin, half-clothed, bruised, sick, and fearful. What seemed to them an endlessexperience was but a long nightmare of trouble, while some, who hadlost their best and dearest, refused to be comforted and almost wishedthey had perished also. 

Annie's gratitude that their little party had all been spared grewstronger every hour, and the one through whose efforts they had beensaved grew daily dearer. 

At first she let her strong affection go out to him unchecked, notrealizing whither she was drifting; but a little characteristic eventoccurred which revealed her to herself. 

Her exposure had again caused quite a serious illness, and she sawlittle of Gregory for a few days. Hunting claimed his right to be withher as far as it was possible. Though she would not admit it toherself, she almost shrunk from him. Of course the sailing ship hadbeen provisioned for only a comparatively small crew, and the suddenand large accession to the number threatened to add the terrors offamine to their other misfortunes. 

Annie had given almost all of her allowance away. Indeed she had noappetite, and revolted at the coarse food served. But she noticed thatHunting ate all of his, or else put some quietly away, in view offuture need. She said to him, upon this occasion, "Can't you spare alittle of your portion for those poor people over there? They lookhalf-famished. "

"I will do so if you wish, " he replied, "but it would hardly be wise. Think what tremendous business interests I represent, and it is of thefirst importance that I keep up. "

"Mr. Gregory is almost starving himself, " said Miss Eulie, quietly. "Ifeel very anxious about him. "

"I represent a business of thousands where Mr. Gregory does hundreds, "said Hunting, complacently. 

"I wish you represented something else, " said Annie, bitterly, turningaway. 

Her words and manner jostled him out of himself. A principle thatseemed to him so sound and generally accepted appeared sordid andselfish calculation to Annie and she felt that Gregory representedinfinitely greater riches in his self-denial for others. 

Hunting saw his blunder and instantly carried all his portion to thosewhom Annie had pointed out. But it was too late. He had shown hisinner nature again in a way that repelled Annie's very soul. Sheturned sick at the thought of being bound to such a man. 

At first she had tried to excuse his helpless terror on the ship bythinking it a physical trait; but this was a moral trait. It gave asudden insight into the cold, dark depths of his nature. 

Immediately after the disaster she had been too sick and bewildered torealize her situation. Her engagement was such an old and acceptedfact that at first no thought of any other termination of it than bymarriage entered her mind. Yet she already looked forward to it onlyas a duty, and she felt that her love for Hunting would be that ofpity rather than trust and honor. But she was so truthful--so chainedby her promises--that her engagement rested upon her like a solemnobligation. Again, it had been entered into under circumstances sotenderly sacred that even the wish to escape from it seemed likesacrilege. Still, she said, in intense bitterness, "Dear father wasdeceived also. We did not know him as we should. "

Yet she had nothing against Hunting, save a growing lack ofcongeniality and his cowardice at a time when few men could be heroic. In her strong sense of justice she felt that she should not condemn aman for an infirmity. But her cheeks tingled with shame as sheremembered his weakness, and she felt that a Christian ought to havedone a little better under any circumstances. When, in the event abovedescribed, she saw his hard, calculating spirit, her whole naturerevolted from him almost in loathing. 

After a brief time she told him that she wanted to be alone, and hewent away cursing his own folly. Miss Eulie, thinking she wished tosleep, also left her. 

"How can I marry him?" she groaned; "and yet how can I escape such anengagement?"

When her aunt returned she found her sobbing as if her heart wouldbreak. 

"Why, Annie, dear, what is the matter?" she asked. 

"Don't ask me, " she moaned, and buried her face in her pillow. 

Then that judicious lady looked very intelligent, but said nothingmore. She sat down and began to stroke Annie's brown, dishevelledhair. But instead of showing very great sympathy for her niece, shehad an unusually complacent expression. Gregory had a strong butdiscreet friend in the camp. 

When Annie became calmer, she said, hesitatingly, "Do you think--isMr. Gregory--doesn't he eat anything?"

"No; he is really wronging himself. I heard it said that the captainhad threatened, jokingly, to put him in irons if he did not obeyorders and eat his allowance. "

"Do you think I could make--do you think he would do better if Ishould ask him?" inquired Annie, with her face buried in her pillow. 

"Well, " said Miss Eulie, gravely, though with a smile upon her face, "Mr. Gregory is very self-willed, especially about some things, but Ido think that you have more power over him than any one else. "

"Won't you tell him that I want to see him?"

He was very glad to come. Annie tried hard to be very firm andcomposed, but, with her red eyes and full heart, did not succeed verywell. 

At first he was a little embarrassed by her close scrutiny, for shehad wrought herself up into the expectation of seeing a gaunt, famine-stricken man. But his cheeks, though somewhat hollow, were ruddy, andhis face was bronzed by exposure. Instead of being pained by hiscadaverous aspect, she was impressed by his manly beauty; but shesaid, "I have sent for you that I might give you a scolding. "

"I'm all meekness, " he said, a little wonderingly. 

"Aunty tells me that you don't eat anything. "

"That is just what she says of you. "

"But I'm ill and can't eat. "

"Neither can I. "

"Why not?"

"How can a man eat when there are hungry women aboard? It would chokeme. "

Instead of scolding him, she again buried her face in her pillow, andburst into tears. 

He was a little perplexed, but said, gently, "Come, my dear littlesister, I hope you are not worrying about me. I assure you there is nocause. I never felt better, and the worst that can happen is a faminein England when I reach. It grieves me to the heart to see you so paleand weak. The captain says I have a bad conscience, but it's onlyanxiety for you that makes me so restless. "

"Do you stay upon deck all night this bitter weather?"

"Well, I want to be ready if anything should happen. "

"O Walter, Walter! how I have wronged you!"

"No, beg your pardon, you have righted me. What was I when I firstknew you, Annie Walton? There is some chance of my being a man now. But come, let me cheer you up. I have good news for you. If I had lostevery dollar on that ship I should still be rich, for your littleBible (I shall always call it yours) remained safe in my overcoatpocket, and you brought it aboard. Now let me read you something thatwill comfort you. I find a place where it is written, 'Begin here. 'Can you account for that?"

And he read that chapter, so old but inexhaustible, beginning, "Letnot your heart be troubled. "

Having finished it, he said, "I will leave my treasure with you, asyou may wish to read some yourself. In regard to the subject of the'scolding, ' which, by the way, I have not yet received, if Miss Mortonhere can tell me that you are eating more, I will. Good-by. "

Annie's appetite improved from that hour. She seized upon the oldBible and turned its stained leaves with the tenderest interest. Asshe did so, her harsh note to Gregory, written when Hunting complainedthat he had been insulted, dropped out. How doubly harsh and unjusther words seemed now! Then she read his words, "Forgiven, my dear, deceived sister. " She kissed them passionately, then tore the note tofragments. 

Miss Eulie watched her curiously, then stole away with another smile. She liked the spell that was acting now, but knew Annie too well tosay much. Miss Eulie was one of those rare women who could let a goodwork of this kind go on without meddling. 

Annie did not read the Bible, but only laid it against her cheek. ThenHunting came back looking very discontented, for he had managed tocatch glimpses of her interview with Gregory. 

"Shall I read to you from that book?" he said. 

She shook her head. 

"You seemed to enjoy having Mr. Gregory read it to you, " he said, meaningly. 

Color came into her pale face, but she only said, "He did not staylong. I'm ill and tired. "

"It's rather hard, Annie, " he continued, with a deeply injured air, "to see another more welcome at your side than I am. "

"What do you mean?" she asked, in a sudden passion. "How much time hasMr. Gregory been with me since he saved both our lives? You heard myfather say that I should be a sister to him; and yet I believe thatyou would like me to become a stranger. Have you forgotten that butfor him you would have been at the bottom of the Atlantic? There, there, leave me now, I'm weak and ill--leave me till we both can getinto better moods. "

Pale with suppressed shame and anger, he went away, wishing in thedepth of his soul that Gregory was at the bottom of the Atlantic. 

Again she buried her face in her pillow and sobbed and moaned, "Howcan I marry that man! He makes my very flesh creep. "

Then for the first time came the swift thought, "I could marryGregory; I'm happy the moment I'm near him;" and her face burned asdid the thought in her heart. 

Then she turned pale with fear at herself. A sudden sense of guiltalarmed her, for she had the feeling that she belonged to Hunting. Sosolemn had been her engagement that the thought of loving anotherseemed almost like disloyalty to the marriage-tie. With a despairingsigh, she murmured, "Chained, chained. "

Then strongly arose the womanly instinct of self-shielding, and thepurpose to hide her secret. An hour before, Gregory could not come toooften. He might have stooped down and as a brother kissed her lips, and she would not have thought it strange or unnatural. Now shedreaded to see him. And yet when would he be out of her thoughts? Shehoped and half-believed that he was beginning to regard her as asister, and still, deep in her soul, this thought had an added stingof pain. 

Ah, Annie! you thought you loved before, but a master-spirit has nowcome who will stir depths in your nature of which neither you norHunting dreamed. 

Hunting, seemingly, had no further cause to be jealous of Gregoryduring the rest of the voyage. With the whole strength of her proud, resolute nature, Annie guarded her secret. She sent kind messages toGregory, and returned the Bible, but did not ask him to visit heragain. Neither did she come on deck herself till they were enteringthe harbor of an English port. 

When Gregory came eagerly toward her, though her face flushed deeply, she greeted him with a kind and gentle dignity, which, nevertheless, threw a chill upon his heart. All the earnest words he meant to saydied upon his lips, and gave way to mere commonplaces. Drawing herheavy shawl about her, she sat down and looked back toward the sea asif regretting leaving it with all its horrors. He thought, "When haveI seen such a look of patient sorrow on any human face? She saw thelove I could not hide at our last interview. I did not deceive her bycalling her 'sister. ' Her great, generous heart is grieving because ofmy hopeless love, while in the most delicate manner she reminds me howvain it is. Now I know why she did not send for me again. "

He walked away from the little group pale and faint, and she could notkeep back the hot tears as she watched him. Miss Eulie was alsoobservant, and saw how they misunderstood each other. But she acted asif blind, feeling that quickly coming events would right everythingbetter than any words of hers. 

Gregory went to another part of the vessel, and leaned over therailing. Annie noticed with an absorbing interest that he seemed asindifferent to the delight of the passengers at the prospect of soonbeing on land, and the bustle on the wharf, as he had appeared at thecommencement of the voyage. But she rightly guessed that there wastumult at his heart. There certainly was at hers. When the vesseldropped anchor and they would soon go ashore, he turned with theresolve, "I will show her that I can bear my hard lot like a man, " andagain came toward them, a proud and courteous gentleman. 

Annie saw and understood the change, and her heart was chilled by asense of loneliness and isolation greater than if the stormy Atlantichad rolled between them. And yet his manner toward her was verygentle, very considerate. 

He took charge of Miss Eulie, and soon they were at the best hotel inthe place. The advent of the survivors caused great excitement in thecity, and they were all overwhelmed with kindness and sympathy. 

After a few hours Gregory returned to the hotel, dressed in quietelegance, and he seemed to Annie the very ideal of manhood; while she, in her mourning robes, seemed to him the perfection of womankind. Buttheir manner toward each other was very quiet, and only Miss Eulieguessed the subterranean fires that were burning in each heart. 

"Are you sure that you will be perfectly comfortable here?" he asked. 

"Entirely so, " Annie replied. "Mr. Hunting has telegraphed to myuncle, and we will await him here. I do not feel quite strong enoughto travel yet. "

"Then I can leave you for a day or two with a quiet mind. I must go toLiverpool. "

She turned a shade paler, but only said, "I am very sorry you mustleave us so soon. "

"I missed a note from your Bible, " he said, in a low tone. 

"Forgive me! I destroyed it, " and she turned and walked to the windowto hide her burning face. 

Just then Hunting entered, and a few moments later Gregory bade them aquiet farewell. 

"How wonderful is her constancy!" he sighed as he went away. "How canshe love and cling to that man after what he has shown himself!"

He had utterly misunderstood her and believed that she had destroyedthe note, not because of her own harsh words, but of his reflecting onHunting. 

Annie thought she knew what sorrow was, but confessed to herself inbitterness, after he had gone, that such had not been the case before. 

If Hunting secretly exulted that Gregory was out of the way, and hadbeen taught by Annie that he must keep his distance, as he wouldexpress it, he was also secretly uneasy at her manner toward him. Shemerely endured his lavish attentions, and seemed relieved when he wascompelled to leave her for a time. "She will feel and actdifferently, " he thought, "when she gets well and strong, and will bethe same as before. " Thus the harassing fears and jealousy that hadtortured him at sea gave way to complacent confidence. But he wasgreatly provoked that he could scarcely ever see Annie without theembarrassing presence of Miss Eulie. 

He had a growing antipathy for that lady, while he felt sure that shedid not like him. Annie was very grateful to her aunt for quietlyshielding her from caresses that every hour grew more unendurable. 

Gregory was detained for some time in Liverpool, and on his return tothe city where he had left Annie and Miss Eulie he met Mr. Kemp, whomhe had known well in New York, also seeking them. This gentlemangreeted him most warmly, for he had read in the papers good accountsof Gregory's behavior. In a few moments they entered the hoteltogether. Fortunately, as Gregory thought, but most unfortunately, hashe learned afterward, Hunting was out at the time. 

The warm color came into Annie's face as he greeted her, and sheseemed so honestly and eagerly glad to see him that his sore heart wascomforted. 

Mr. Kemp's manner toward his niece and sister was affectionate in theextreme. Indeed, the good old man seemed quite overcome by hisfeelings, and Gregory was about to retire, but he said, "No, pleasestay, sir. Forgive my weakness, if it is such. You don't know how dearthese people are to me, and when I think of all they have passedthrough I can hardly control myself. "

"We should not be here, uncle, " said Annie, in a low, thrilling voice, "had it not been for Mr. Gregory. "

Then the old gentleman came and gave Gregory's hand such a grasp thatit ached for hours after. "I have been reading, " he said, "warmtributes to his conduct in the papers, but I did not know that we wereall under such deep personal obligations to him. Come, Annie, you musttell me all about it. "

"Not now, please, " said Gregory. "I start in a few moments for Paris, and must even now say good-by for a little time. I warn you, Mr. Kemp, that Miss Walton will exaggerate my services. She has a way ofovervaluing what is done for her, and undervaluing what she does forothers. "

"Well, " said Mr. Kemp, with a significant nod, "that's a trait thatruns in the Walton blood. "

"I long ago came to regard their blood as of the truest blue, " saidGregory, laughing. 

"Must you leave us again so soon?" said Annie, with a slight tremblein her voice. 

"Yes, Miss Walton, even now I should be on the way to the train. Butyou are surrounded by those who can best take care of you. Still Iearnestly hope that, before many days, I shall see you in Paris, andin greatly improved health. So I won't say good-by, but only good-morning. "

Ah, he did not know, or he would have said "farewell" with a heavyheart. 

His parting from her was most friendly, and the pressure of his handwarm and strong, but Annie felt, with a deep, unsatisfied pain atheart, that it was all too formal. Mr. Kemp was exceedinglydemonstrative, and said, "Wait till I see you in Paris, and I willoverwhelm you with questions, especially about your partner, my dearold friend, Mr. Burnett. "

But staid, quiet Miss Eulie surprised them all. She just put her armsabout his neck, and gave him a hearty kiss, saying, "Take that, Mr. Gregory, from one who loves you like a mother. "

He returned the caress most tenderly, and hastened away to hide hisemotion. 

Then envious Annie bitterly reproached herself that she had been socold, and, to make amends, began giving a glowing account of all thatGregory had done for them. 

The old gentleman listened with an amused twinkle in his eyes, secretly exulting over the thought, "It is not going to break herheart to part with Hunting. "

In the midst of her graphic story that unfortunate man entered, andher words died upon her lips. She rose quietly, and said, "Charles, this is my uncle, Mr. Kemp. "

But she was amazed to see Mr. Kemp, who thus far had seemed genialityitself, acknowledge her affianced with freezing coldness, and Huntingturned deathly pale with a presentiment of disaster. 

"Be seated, sir, " said Mr. Kemp, stiffly; "I wish to make a briefexplanation, and after that will relieve you of the care of theseladies. "

Hunting sank into a chair, and Annie saw something of the same terroron his face which had sickened her on the sinking ship. "Annie, " saidher uncle, very gravely, "have you entire confidence in me? Yourfather had. "

"Certainly, " said Annie, wondering beyond measure at this mostunaccountable scene. 

"Will you take my word for it, that this man, who seems most consciousof his guilt, deceived--yes, lied to Burnett & Co. , and swindled themout of so large a sum of money that the firm would have failed but forme? Because, if you cannot take my word, I can give you absoluteproof. "

Annie buried her face in her hands and said, "Now I understand allthis wretched mystery. How I have wronged Mr. Gregory!"

"You could not do other than wrong him while Mr. Hunting had anyinfluence over you. I know Mr. Gregory well. He is an honorablebusiness man, and always was, with all his faults. And now, sir, foryour satisfaction, let me inform you that Mr. Burnett is one of mymost intimate friends. He told me all about it, and gave ample proofof the nature of the entire transaction. I am connected with the bankwith which the firm deposited, and through my influence I secured themsuch accommodation as tided them over the critical time in theiraffairs which your villany had occasioned. "

Hunting now recovered himself sufficiently to say, "I did nothingdifferent from what often occurs in business. I had a legal right toevery cent that I collected from Burnett & Co. "

"But how about _moral right?_ Do we not all know that often the mostbarefaced robberies take place within the limits of the law? And suchwas your act. Even the hardened gamblers of the Street weredisgusted. "

"You have no right to speak to me in this way, sir, " said Hunting, trying to work up a little indignation. "Mr. Walton trusted me, and Ibecame engaged to Miss Walton under circumstances the most solemn andsacred; we are the same as married. "

"Come, sir, " interrupted Mr. Kemp, hotly, "don't make me lose mytemper. John Walton was the soul of Christian honor. He would haveburied his daughter rather than have her marry you, if he had knownyou as I do. I now insist that you resign your executorship andrelieve us of your presence. "

"Annie, " cried Hunting, in a voice of anguish, "can you sit quietly byand hear me so insulted?"

She sat motionless--her face, burning with shame, buried in her hands. With her intense Walton hatred of deceit, the thought that she hadcome so near marrying a swindler and liar scorched her very soul. 

He came to her side and tried to take her hand, but she shrunk fromhim in loathing, and, springing up, said passionately, "When I think, sir, that with this guilty secret you would have tricked me intomarriage by my father's death-bed, I am perfectly appalled at yourwickedness. God in mercy snatched me then from a fate worse thandeath. "

She turned away for a moment and pressed her hands upon her throbbingheart. Then turning her dark and flashing eyes to where he stood, pale, speechless, and trembling, she said, more calmly, "May Godforgive you. I will when I can. Go. "

She proved what is often true, that the gentle, when desperatelywronged, are the most terrible. 

He slunk cowering away without a word, and to avoid exposure Mr. Kempat once compelled him to sign papers that took from him all furtherpower of mischief. Mr. Kemp eventually became executor in his stead. 

As soon as Annie grew calmer she had a glad sense of escape greaterthan that which had followed her rescue from the wrecked ship. Herheart sprung up within her bosom and sung for joy. Then again shewould shudder deeply at what she had so narrowly avoided. Strongerthan her gratitude for life twice saved was her feeling of obligationto Gregory for his persistent effort to shield her from this marriage. She was eager to start for Paris at once that she might askforgiveness for all her injustice toward him. But in the excess of herfeelings she was far more unjust toward herself, as he would have toldher. 

Still, even if Hunting's dishonesty had not been revealed to her, Annie would have broken with him. As soon as she gained her mentalstrength and poise--as soon as she realized that her love washopelessly gone from him--her true, strong nature would have revoltedfrom the marriage as from a crime, and she would have told him, indeepest pity, but with rock-like firmness, that it could not be. 

The next day she greatly relented toward him, and, in her deep pity, sent a kind farewell message which it would nave been well for him toheed. 

CHAPTER XXXV

A CHESTNUT BURR AND A HOME

When Gregory reached Paris, to his grief and consternation he found adespatch informing him of the sudden death of old Mr. Burnett, and theillness of Mr. Seymour, the other partner. "Return instantly, " itread; "the senior clerk is coming out to take your place. "

At first it appeared a double grief that he could scarcely endure, forit seemed that if he went back now Annie would be lost to him beyondhope. But after thinking it all over he became calmer, "It may be bestafter all, for as my wife she is lost to me beyond hope, and God seesthat I am not strong enough to meet her often yet and sustain myself, and so snatches me from the temptation. "

Thus little children guess at the meaning of an earthly father, butGregory did what a child should--he trusted. 

He wrote a warm but hasty note to Annie, which through somecarelessness was never delivered, attended to some necessary matters, and was just in time to catch the French steamer outward bound. 

When Annie reached Paris, she learned in dismay that he had sailed forNew York. Seemingly he had left no message, no explanation; all theycould learn at his hotel was that he had received a despatch summoninghim instantly home. Annie was deeply wounded, though she tried tobelieve that he had written and that the letter had been missent orlost. A thousand conjectures of evil ran in her mind, and the thoughtof his being again on the ocean, which she now so dreaded, at thestormiest season of the year, was a source of deep anxiety. In hermorbid fears she even thought that the scheming Hunting might havesomething to do with it. She gave way to despondency. Then her aunttried to comfort her by saying, "Annie, I am sure I understand youboth better than you do each other, and I think I can write Mr. Gregory a line which will clear up everything. "

But the quiet little lady was quite frightened by the way in whichAnnie turned upon her. 

"As you love me, aunty, " she said, "never write a line on thissubject. I am not one to seek, but must be sought, even by Gregory. Not one line, I charge you, containing a hint of my feelings. "

"Well, Annie, darling, " she said, gently, "it's all going to come outright. "

But Annie, in her weak, depressed state, saw only the dark side. Aswith Gregory there was nothing for her but patient trust. 

But when, in due time, there came a despatch from him announcing hissafe arrival, she was greatly reassured. The light came back into hereyes and the color to her cheeks. 

"What kind of medicine have you been taking to-day?" asked her uncle, slyly. 

"She has been treated with electricity, " Miss Eulie remarked, quietly. 

"O, aunty!" said Annie, with a deep blush, "when did I ever hear youindulge in such a witticism before?"

And when, some days later, she received a cordial, brotherly letterfrom Gregory, relating all that had occurred, a deep content stoleinto her heart, and she felt, with Miss Eulie, that all wouldeventually be well. She replied scrupulously, in like vein withhimself, and thus began a correspondence that to each became a sourceof the truest happiness. Their letters were intensely brotherly andsisterly in character, but Annie felt almost sure that, under hisfraternal disguise, she detected the warmth and glow of a far strongeraffection; and, before many months had passed, he hoped the same ofher dainty letters, though he could not lay his finger on a singleword and say, "This proves it. " But Annie's warm heart unconsciouslycolored the pages, nevertheless. 

Of Hunting he briefly wrote, "God pity him. "

In May, Gregory was glad to find that he would have to go to Europeagain, and purposed to give Annie a surprise. But he received only avery sad one himself, for, on arriving at Paris, he learned, to hisintense disappointment, that Mr. Kemp and his party had suddenlydecided to return home. He was eventually comforted by receiving aletter from Annie, showing clearly that she had been as greatlydisappointed as himself; but, woman-like, most of the letter was aneffort to cheer him. 

Still he was growing almost superstitious at the manner in which sheseemed to elude his loving grasp, and sighed, "I fear she will alwaysprove to me a spirit of the air. "

One bright morning, in the ensuing October, Gregory again greeted, like the face of a friend, the shores of his native country, and thethought that Annie was beyond that blue line of land thrilled hisheart with impatient expectation. 

As they approached Sandy Hook, the pilot brought abroad a New Yorkpaper, and as he was carelessly glancing over it, his eyes were caughtby an advertisement of the sale by auction of the Walton estate, hisold home. He saw by the date that the sale would not take place tillthe following day, and he now felt sure that he could give Annie adouble surprise, for he had not written of his return. He had learnedfrom Annie that her father must have intrusted large sums to Huntingwhich could not be accounted for, and that beyond the country-placenot much had been left. He rightly guessed that this place was aboutto be sold to provide means for the support of the family. He wassurprised that Annie had not written to him about the sale, and indeedshe had wished to, thinking that he might like to buy it. But Mr. Kemphad dissuaded her, saying that it was not at all probable that Gregoryhad the means to buy so large a property, and judging Gregory byhimself, he added, "A business man does not want a country-placeanyway. Besides, Annie, if you should suggest it, it might be a sourceof much pain to him to feel that he could not. "

But as soon as Gregory was ashore he hunted up one of his seniorclerks, and instructed him to go up the following morning and buy theplace at any cost, but not to let any one know it was for him. He alsotold him to assure the family that they need not vacate the place inany haste. 

It soon became evident at the sale that the stranger from the city wasdetermined to have the property, and the other bidders gave way. 

When the clerk returned that evening Gregory plied him with questions, and learned that Miss Walton seemed to have great regret at leaving, and was very grateful when told that she could take her own time fordeparture. In fact, Annie grudged every October day at the old place, that brought back the past so vividly. Gregory could not forbearasking, with a slight flush, "How did Miss Walton look?"

"Like her surroundings, " said the clerk, politely blind, "and not likea city belle. Mr. Gregory, I congratulate you on possessing the mosthome-like place on the river. "

Gregory took the earliest train the following morning, and at noonfound himself by the cedar thicket again, with a strange thrill, as herecalled all that had occurred there and since. He sat down to restfor a moment on the rock where Annie had first found him more than ayear before. Beneath him lay his home--his now in truth--embowered incrimson and golden foliage, that seemed doubly bright in the genialOctober sunlight, while at his very feet were the orchard's ladenboughs, beneath which he had proved to Annie the reality and depth ofhis love; and there beyond was the cottage of Daddy Tuggar, with thatold man smoking upon the porch. But, chief of all, he could mark thevery spot by the brook in the garden where Annie's hand, like anangel's, had plucked him from the brink of despair, and given thefirst faint hope of immortal life. Tears blinded his eyes, but the bowof promise shone in them as he looked heavenward, and said, "MercifulFather! how kind of Thee, in view of my past, to give me this dearearnest of my heavenly home!"

The sound of approaching steps aroused him, and springing up he sawthrough the thicket, with an emotion so deep that it made him tremble, the one woman of the world to him. 

With an expression of deep sadness, and the manner of one taking alingering leave of a very dear friend, Annie came slowly toward himalong the brow of the hill. He tried to still even the beating of hisheart, for he would not lose one moment of exquisite anticipation. Andyet he was deeply agitated, for he knew that he could not maintain thebrotherly disguise an hour longer. 

Suddenly she looked toward the cedar thicket, and, as if recallingwhat had occurred there, covered her face with her hands, to hide thepainful scene. Then he saw that she would not even come to the place, but was turning to go to the house by another way. 

He darted out from his concealment and rushed toward her. At first, inwild alarm, she put her hand to her side, and leaned against achestnut-tree for support. Then recognizing him, with a glad cry, shepermitted him to take her in his arms, while she hid her face on hisshoulder. A moment later they recoiled from each other in blushingconfusion. 

"Well?" said Gregory, stupidly. 

She was the first to recover herself, and said, "O, Walter, I'm so--soglad you have come at last!"

"Do I look sorry?" he asked, taking her hand. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed; "this is too good to be true!"

"That's what I think, I feared you would take flight the moment Iappeared. "

"When did you arrive? Come, tell me everything. "

"Not all at once, dear--Annie. But let me give you a seat on the rockby the thicket, and then I will say the catechism. "

"Please, no, Walter; not there, " she said, drawing back. 

"Yes, there; we will give that place a new association. "

But she was glad to reach the seat, for she trembled so she couldhardly stand. 

Then he told her how he purposed to surprise her, and answered everyeager question. 

"O, Annie!" he concluded, "how I have longed for this hour! Never didthat dreadful ocean seem so wide before. "

She looked at him more fondly than she knew, and said, "Ah, Walter!your blood is not on my hands after all. "

"Let me see, " he said. 

"I know it is not, " she replied, putting them behind her back; "don'tI see you there well and happy?"

"I don't know but it will be on your hands yet, " he said, half-tragically, springing up. 

She gave him a swift look of inquiry, but her eyes dropped as quicklybeneath his eager gaze, while her deep blush caused her to vie withthe sugar-maple on the lawn in very truth. But he said after a moment, "Annie, dear, won't you let me interpret another chestnut burr foryou?"

"Certainly, Walter, " she tried to say innocently, "all that are on thetree. "

"Now don't make fun of me, because I'm desperately in earnest. I don'twant one like that I chose with a great lonely worm-infested chestnutin it. What a good, wholesome lesson you gave me then! Thank you, Annie, darling. "

"Brothers don't use such strong language toward their sisters, " saidAnnie, looking on the ground. 

"I can't help it. To tell the honest truth I'm not much of a brother. Neither do I want one like that which you chose with three chestnutsin it. _Three_, faugh! I've had enough of that. I want to find onelike that which you brought me the first day I met you here. "

"You will never find it if you stand talking forever. "

"You won't go away?"

"Perhaps not. "

He looked at her doubtfully, but she would not meet his eye. Then hestarted on his search, but kept looking back so often that shelaughed, and said, "I'm not a chestnut burr. "

"I'm afraid of you. "

"Then you had better run away. "

"Sisters shouldn't tease their brothers. "

"Well, forgive me this time. "

He caught a branch full of half-open burrs, and peered eagerly in themtill he found one to his mind, and pulled it off regardless of thepricking spines, then came and kneeled at her side, and said, "Now, Annie, dear, look into it carefully. This is nature's oracle. You seetwo solid, plump chestnuts. "

"Well?" she said, faintly. 

"And you see this false, empty form of shell between them?"

"Yes"--with a touch of sadness. 

"That's Hunting, poor wretch! How unspeakable was his loss!" and hetossed the worthless emblem away. 

"And now, Annie, loved beyond all words I can ever find to tell you, see how near these two chestnuts are together--as near as you and Iare in heart, I trust. Surely my poor pretence of brotherly characterhas not deceived you for a moment. Won't you please put your daintyfingers down into the burr and join the two together?"

She lifted her drooping eyes a moment to the more eloquent pleading ofhis face, but they fell as speedily. 

In a low, thrilling tone she said, "No, Walter, but you may. "

He dropped the burr and sealed the unspoken covenant upon her lips. 

After a few moments he said, very gently and gravely, "Annie, do youremember when my arm last encircled you?"

The crimson face turned pale as she recalled that awful midnight whenhe rescued her from death. 

Both breathed fervently, "How good God has been to us!"

In their joy, as in fear and sorrow, they remembered Him. 

"O, see!" cried Annie, "your hands are bleeding where the burr prickedthem, and you have stained my hands again. Your blood is on them, " sheadded, almost in fear. 

"Yes, and the best blood of my heart ever will be. Is not the 'bloodupon us' the deepest and most sacred hope of our hearts? Is it not theproof of the strongest love the world has known? Let mine there be thepledge that my life is as nothing when it can shield and shelter you. "

And so he changed the meaning of the omen. 

The hours passed unheeded. At last they went across the orchard asbefore, and stopped and looked at the place where the ladder fell, andthen at each other. 

"Walter, " said Annie, shyly, "I gave you my first kiss here. "

"I am repaid then. "

Before going to the house, they called on Daddy Tuggar. He was soamazed that he could only ejaculate, "Evenin'. "

"Mr. Tuggar, I have acted on your suggestion, " said Gregory. "Ithought Miss Walton would be good company forever, and I have thepromise of it. "

"To think that I should have cussed you!" said the old man, in an awedtone. 

"But you will give us your blessing, now?" said Annie, smiling. 

"My blessin' ain't worth nothin'; but I know the good Lord will blessyou both, even if Miss Annie never was an awful sinner. "

"Mr. Tuggar, " said Gregory, "I own that place over there. Will youtake me for a neighbor till you are ready to be Mr. Walton's?"

"O, Walter!" said Annie, with a glad cry, "is that really true?"

"Yes, it became mine yesterday; or, rather, it remained yours. "

"Mr. Gregory, " said Daddy Tuggar, his quaint face twitching strangely, "if anybody steals your apples, I'm afraid I'll swear at 'em, evenyet. "

"No, you won't, Daddy, " said he. "But I'm going to bring you over tospend an evening with us soon. Good-by!"

They found Miss Eulie in the parlor, pensively packing up some dearlittle relics of a home she supposed lost. Gregory put his arm aroundher and said, "Aunty, I'm going to claim relationship right away; putthose things back where you found them, and sit down here in thecosiest corner of the hearth, your place from this time forth. "

"How is this?" she exclaimed, in breathless astonishment. 

"Well, Annie owns me, and therefore this place. "

Johnny came bounding in, and Gregory caught him, and said, "Here isthe prophet of my fate. How did you tell me your Aunt Annie managedpeople, the morning after my first arrival here?"

"I said she kinder made people love her, and then they wanted to do asshe said, " replied the boy, timidly. 

"Let me tell you a secret, " and he drew the boy and whispered in hisear, "she is going to manage me on just those terms. "

Then little Susie came sidling in, and Gregory took her in his arms, saying, "So dimpled, yet so false, you renounced me for a chipmonk;and now I am going to be Aunt Annie's beau till I'm gray. "

Jeff next appeared with a basket of wood. Gregory gave his black handan honest shake, and said, "Why, Jeff, old fellow, what is the matterwith you to-night? The last time I saw you you looked as if you weredriving me to the cemetery. "

"Well, Misser Gregory, " said Jeff, ducking and shuffling. "Ise didcome mighty neah takin' de turnin' to de cem'try dat day. I tho't youlooked as if you wanted to go dar. "

As they sat down to tea, Zibbie put her head in at the door, and said, "The gude God bless ye, for ye ha' kept the auld 'ooman fra the cauldwourld yet. "

Delighted Hannah could not pass a biscuit without a courtesy. 

That evening the hickory fire glowed and turned to bright and fragrantcoals as in the days past, but Annie looked wistfully toward herfather's vacant chair, and sighed, "If father were only here!"

"Don't grieve, darling, " said Gregory, tenderly. "He is at home, as weare. "

A few evenings later Gregory brought up from the city a large, squarebundle. 

"What have you there?" said Annie, greeting him as the reader canimagine. 

"Your epitaph. "

"O, Walter! so soon?"

His answer was a smile, and quickly opening the pack age, he showed arich, quaint frame containing some lines in illuminated text. Placingit where the light fell clearly, he drew her to him and said, "Readthat. "

 "God sent His messenger of faith, And whispered in the maiden's heart, 'Rise up and look from where thou art, And scatter with unselfish hands Thy freshness on the barren sands And solitudes of death. '"

 "O beauty of holiness, Of self-forgetfulness!"

With a caress of unspeakable tenderness he said, "You are the maiden, and God sent you to me. "

THE END