Transcriber's note:

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 Probable typographical errors were corrected: "instanteously, " "thorougly, " "acquiesence, " "speculatious, " "her's. "

 Otherwise the original punctuation and spelling have been retained. 

 Text enclosed by underscores was in italics (_italics_). 

 Text enclosed by equal signs was in bold face (=bold=). 

 Greek transliterations are enclosed by tilde characters (~Greek~). 

 An asterism was changed to three asterisks in a row. 

 A Table of Contents was added by the transcriber. 

A ROMANTIC YOUNG LADY. 

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A ROMANTIC YOUNG LADY

by

ROBERT GRANT

Author of"The Confessions of a Frivolous Girl, ""An Average Man, ""The Knave of Hearts, " Etc. 

BostonTicknor and Company1886

Copyright, 1886, by Ticknor and Company. All rights reserved. 

University Press:John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 

CONTENTS

 BOOK PAGE I. Innocence. 7 II. Sophistication. 71 III. (Un)common Sense. 221

BOOK I. 

INNOCENCE. 

I. 

My mother died in giving me birth. My father was a very rich man, arailway magnate, so called, absorbed in great business enterprises. Thusit happened that I was brought up between two fires, --my father'ssister, Aunt Agnes; and my mother's sister, Aunt Helen. 

Aunt Agnes was prim but cultivated. She wrote for reviews and woreeye-glasses, and her library table was habitually littered withpamphlets and tomes. On the other hand, Aunt Helen was a neat, dapperlittle woman, who lived in a gem of a house and delighted in bric-à-bracand entertaining. They were both spinsters. Each of them passed oneevening in every week with me. On Tuesdays I dined with Aunt Agnes, andon Fridays with Aunt Helen. Thus I was alone only two evenings out ofseven, for on Sundays my father did not go to the Club. 

From the age of ten until I was fifteen I attended a private school. Iproved ambitious and quick at my books. Aunt Helen was anxious that Ishould be well grounded in the modern languages, while Aunt Agnes wishedme to pursue what she styled "serious" studies. In my efforts to pleasethem both I broke down in health. My father was the first to observe mypallid cheeks, and at the advice of a physician I was taken away fromschool. For nearly a year I was idle, save that I read at random in myfather's library. Then my aunts for once put their heads together andinsisted upon my having a governess. They told my father that the nextthree years were the most important in my life, and that the best way tofoster my health was to find some judicious person to be my companion. 

Aunt Helen was in favor of one who had youth and good spirits, but AuntAgnes thought it important that a governess should inspire respect. Iwas not consulted, and my father declined to arbitrate between them. Inthe end, the favorite of Aunt Agnes was installed, through the chancediscovery that the other applicant had been at one time on the stage. 

Miss Jenks was a kind but sober disciplinarian of fifty. I was her pupiluntil I was eighteen; and though I was none the less lonely because ofher companionship, I am in her debt to-day for the pains she took tosystematize my heterogeneous acquirements and teach me the evils ofsuperficiality. Her views of life were autumnal in tint, and her laughwas never hearty. She rarely conversed with me at length; but if I madeinquiries concerning any matter of knowledge, I was sure to find a bookor pamphlet on my desk the next day, with slips marking the valuablepages. She kept me so steadily employed during the hours I was not inbed or in the fresh air that I had no time for novel-reading, --a pastimeI had indulged in formerly to a considerable extent. I thrivedphysically under this regimen, but I became silent and grave. Miss Jenksseemed constantly on her guard against undue enthusiasm, and abetted byher example I inclined to introspection and over conscientiousness. Ipicked up pins, and went out of my way to kick orange-peel from thesidewalk, on principle. 

But apart from, or rather concurrent with, this sobriety of character Iwas a dreamer in secret, and delighted to give the rein to fancy. Iliked to picture myself in some of the romantic situations of whichI had read, and to build castles for the future. But all theseimaginations were of a realistic order, as distinguished from ghosts andfairies and other creations of that class. I was completely free fromsuperstitions. It was not for luck that I picked up pins, but that theyshould not be wasted. In like manner I never hesitated to let ahorse-shoe lie in the road, to walk under a ladder, or be one ofthirteen at table. And yet I was distinctly a dreamer. If it was in theway of lovers, my thoughts were entirely subjective. I knew no young menexcept the boys at dancing-school; and they as a rule avoided me, for Iwas shy, and for the present only moderately pretty. I think I tried inmy day-dreams to form an ideal of what a lover's mental and moralattributes should be without ever endowing the abstraction with a head. I found a happiness in doing so much, --akin, I fancy, to that of thevotary who kneels before a shrine of which the doors are closed. It wasthe consciousness of a great possible happiness that thrilled me, ratherthan any definite vision. 

When Miss Jenks left us I was a well educated girl for my age. What Iknew I knew thoroughly, and the wishes of both my aunts had beenrespected. Perhaps the most striking circumstances connected with mybringing up, however, were that at eighteen I had no idea I was theheiress to an enormous fortune, and that I could pass young men in thestreet without self-consciousness. Strangely, too, I had grown upwithout having formed an intimacy with any girls of my own age. I havenever quite been able to decide whether the ability I thus acquired tothink for and by myself was more valuable than the happiness thatresults from such friendships; yet I have never distinctly regretted nothaving made a confidant among my contemporaries. 

II. 

Miss Jenks went away in October, and a few days later Aunt Helenbroached the subject of preparations for the winter. I was to go intosociety; and she had taken upon her shoulders the burden of having mewell-dressed and "presentable, " as she called it. My clothes orderedfrom Paris were at her house, and she took even more pleasure than I instudying their effect when tried on, and in selecting from my mother'sjewelry the most appropriate articles for my toilet. There were certaintrinkets among them which she told me were all the rage; and sheconcluded with a homily that I was very fortunate to be able to havesuch expensive things to wear, and that many girls had to be contentwith two ball-dresses, or in some instances with one. I was glad to putmyself entirely in her hands, for I felt that she knew about suchmatters. My own sensations were a mixture of timidity, bewilderment, andexultation. 

One evening a short time previous to the beginning of the gay season myfather turned to me and said, --

"There is something I wish to tell you, Virginia. I have recently mademy will. With the exception of a few legacies for charitable uses and abequest to each of your aunts, I have left everything to you. Verylikely it may be a surprise to you to hear that you will be very rich. It is proper and right you should know it now, just as it was importantyou should remain in ignorance of the fact during childhood. I haverequested hitherto your aunts and your governess to make no allusions toyour future prospects. If I am not mistaken, you learn the truth from mefor the first time. "

He paused as if expecting an answer. 

"Yes, it has never occurred to me to inquire about the future, " said I. "I knew that we lived in comfort. Beyond that I have not thought on thesubject. "

"It is as I supposed, " said my father. "Unless I see reason to alter thepresent distribution of my property, you will be one of the richestwomen in town. When you were a child, Virginia, I felt badly at timesthat you were not a boy; I wanted a son to inherit my name and fortune. But one day it occurred to me, that, though a daughter could not makemoney, she might learn to spend it as well as a son. The thoughtcomforted me; for I have made all the money we can need for manygenerations to come, and my only desire is that when I am gone thereshall be some one to use it as I would like. There is an idea, I know, that women are not fitted to comprehend the value of money, and that itis unwise to give them the control of large sums. However correct thatmay be, the tendency of all modern legislation shows that the world isin favor of their administering their own affairs. At any rate, Ipropose to make the experiment. Unless you convince me beforehand that Iam mistaken, I shall leave you at my death the mistress of over threemillion dollars. "

While I was trying to form a definite idea of so much wealth, my fatherrose, and going to a side-table took up a large tin box, on the top ofwhich lay a plush-covered case and a pile of pamphlets. 

"In this trunk, " he said, "you will find one hundred thousand dollars infirst-rate securities, registered in your name. I want you to learn, sofar as is possible for a woman, the care of property. These newspapersand reports will help you somewhat. I shall be glad to answer all yourquestions, and will keep you supplied with the latest intelligencerelating to your property; for I give you these stocks and bonds to useas you see fit. You will find a cheque-book and a bank-book inside. Onemust learn to appreciate the value of money in order to use it well. Iwould not advise you to change your investments at first withoutconsulting me. You must expect to make mistakes at the outset, but Ihave great confidence in your good sense. I should have been afraid tomake the experiment in the case of many girls. "

These words of my father brought the tears to my eyes. He had beenwatching me after all, while I sometimes half fancied him oblivious ofmy existence. At the moment, I was too confused to do more than thankhim and gather up in a dazed way the pamphlets he placed before me. Heput the little key that dangled from the tin box into the lock, anddisclosed to me the parchment securities within. 

"Carefully managed, that ought to yield you six per cent net, " said he. 

"But what am I to do with so much money every year?" I cried aghast. 

My father laughed, and said: "That is for you to decide, Virginia. Youwill learn only too soon the part that money plays in the world, " headded gravely. "Prepare yourself to be courted and flattered for itssake. Some people would say, 'Do not destroy her faith in human nature. She will learn the truth soon enough. ' I believe that to be forewarnedis to be forearmed. Good and true men are abundant, but there areunscrupulous and mercenary ones as well, who will woo you for the sakeof your fortune and not because they love you. 

"One word more, " said he, without regard to the expression of pain thatoverspread my face at his last speech. "Do not be afraid to use yourmoney. Avoid foolish extravagance, but learn to enjoy life and theblessings at your disposal. It used to be considered wrong by ourforefathers to surround themselves with beautiful things, and any butthe simplest comforts. Some people are of that opinion still, but I donot agree with them. Your own good sense will be the best criterion ofwhat is unduly ostentatious; but never hesitate to have anything you maywish because you fear the verdict of others. In short, be independent, and think for yourself if you wish to be happy. Your Aunt Helen hasundertaken the charge of your wardrobe; that is something of which Iknow nothing. I can tell when a young lady is well dressed, but I am notcapable of selecting her dresses. Here, however, " he said, taking theplush-covered case from the table, "is something that will make yourtoilet more complete. "

I started with delight on raising the lid, to discover a superb necklaceof the largest pearls. Under the impulse of the moment I flung my armsabout my father's neck and kissed him. He seemed touched by myimpetuosity, and stood for a moment with my head between his handslooking into my eyes. 

"I believe you have in you the making of a noble woman, my dear, " hesaid proudly. "You have your mother's sweet disposition, and also Ithink my fixity of purpose. "

I lay awake that night for hours. It seemed to me that I had grown fiveyears older in a single day, and I felt a new responsibility in living. My father's trust and generosity had stirred me deeply, and I made manya solemn vow not to prove unworthy of such confidence. But athwart thesatisfaction these thoughts inspired, rose the recollection of what hehad said regarding the insincerity of men. I had of course read innovels of fortune-hunters, but no suspicion of their existence withinthe pale of the polite society of which I was so soon to form a part hadever marred the rosy simplicity of my imagination. This was my firstpeep at the world's wickedness, and it shocked me to think that humannature could be so base. 

I had seen but little of my Aunt Agnes during the autumn, perhapsbecause I more than half suspected she did not sympathize with the plansand preparations for my social education. I remembered some yearsbefore, at the time when the question of my attending dancing-school wasbeing debated, to have heard her express disapproval of girls whofrittered away their time and health in the pursuit of what she called"vain pleasures. " I had not conversed with her on the subject, but I hadobtained an intimation from her short and acrid manner on the one or twooccasions when we had met of late that she was quite aware of what wasgoing on, and condemned it unequivocally. 

Although I knew that Aunt Agnes was very fond of me, and I in turn lovedand respected her, she was apt to inspire me with awe even on ordinaryoccasions. Her character was as upright as her figure, which in defianceof the relaxed customs of the day was always arrayed against astraight-backed chair. Conventionalities of every sort were anabomination to her. Black silk was the full extent of her condescensionin the matter of what she was pleased to call Babylonian attire, and shehad no patience with the ordinary vanities of her sex. 

She received me frostily when I went to visit her a few days after theconversation with my father, and suffered me to kiss both her cheeks inturn without evincing a sign of being mollified. Remembering that shewas fond of directness, I opened fire at once by observing that I wasinvited to a ball at Mrs. Dale's a week hence. 

"All girls are fools, " she answered abruptly, after a moment. I bowed myhead submissively, and awaited the storm. 

"I expected better things of you, Virginia, " she continued. "I hoped youwere too sensible to follow the herd, and waste the best years of yourlife in folly. "

"Folly?" I echoed faintly. 

"Yes, folly. What else is it but folly to sit up night after night, until the small hours of the morning, waltzing with brainless youngmen?"

"But, Aunty, my father wishes me to go into society. "

"Pshaw! What does he know about balls and parties? He is under the thumbof your Aunt Helen. At your age he was working hard for his living, andlearning to be of use in the world. "

"But I have not to earn my living, " said I. 

"So much the worse for you. Humph! You have found that out, have you?"

I understood that she referred to what my father had told me. "Yes, Iknow my father is very rich. If I do not go to parties, how am I tolearn anything about life?"

"Life! You are very simple, child, if you expect to learn what life isby dancing the German. The first thing we shall hear is, that you areengaged to some young dandy who is after your fortune. Then you will besnuffed out. You will become a fashionable simpleton, who goes to bed atfour and gets up at noon. Life, indeed!"

This cruel insinuation, following so soon upon what I had lately heard, cut like a knife. I answered firmly, --

"My father has already warned me to be on my guard against insincerepersons. "

"Much good a warning would do, if you were to take it into your head tolike anybody! Tell _me_! I may not understand girls" (this was a thrustat Aunt Helen), "but I know the dispositions of my own family. When aHarlan gets a fixed idea, it takes a deal of pounding to drive it out;and you're a Harlan, Virginia, if there ever was one. "

This last reflection seemed to console her a little, or at least tosuggest the futility of trying to alter my determination; for afterspeaking of other matters for a few moments she exclaimed, --

"Well! girls will be girls, I suppose, to the end of time, "--and risingshe went to an escritoire and took out a small parcel, which it wasevident she had intended to present to me from the first. "There, Virginia, if you are bent on being frivolous, is a bit of old lace thatyour Aunt Helen, or anybody else, would have to hunt a long time toequal. You will find a locket inside which I wore when your father wasmarried. I shall never use such frippery again, and you might as wellhave them now as when I am dead. "

Knowing that she meant to be gracious, I thanked her warmly. But havingdoubts regarding her taste, I abstained from opening the packageuntil I reached home. Then I found that the lace even surpassed inexquisiteness the estimate Aunt Agnes had put upon it. Aunt Helen wasfairly envious, and spent the evening in wondering "where on earth" herrival could have come into possession of such a treasure. 

But the locket--a cameo, bizarre, and out of the run of ordinarypersonal ornaments--excited her contempt. 

"It is fit for a woman of forty, and would make you look like a guy, Virginia. "

The idea of looking different from other people did not disturb me. Indeed, I had resolved to be thoroughly independent. So, on the eveningof Mrs. Dale's ball, I announced my intention of wearing the locket, andof reserving my necklace of pearls for some more brilliant occasion. Aunt Helen, who supervised my toilet, was greatly distressed at myobstinacy. Nevertheless I left the house with it on. But at the lastmoment my courage failed me; I slipped it off and put it in mypocket, --thus making a courtesy to conventionality on the threshold ofsociety. 

III. 

My recollections of the first few parties I attended are confused. Agreat many young men were introduced to me, but I scarcely distinguishedone from another. I was alternately dazed and dazzled by the attentionsI received. There is no object in disguising the fact that I had becomevery handsome, and my brilliant financial prospects were of course wellknown. 

My emotions were doubtless those of an average society belle, eager todrain the cup of pleasure to the dregs. I lived to dance, and caredlittle with whom I danced, provided he danced well. The mere physicalsatisfaction of waltzing, coupled with the glamor of a universal homage, contented me. 

But this did not last long. I learned to make distinctions, and togeneralize; and from this primary stage of development I began toentertain positive likes and dislikes. 

It was not however until the winter was waning that Mr. Roger Daleoccupied a different place in my thoughts from half-a-dozen others, although he had been polite to me from the time of my first ball at hismother's house. It would be difficult to say exactly what distinguishedhim from the rest of their admirers in the eyes of every girl with anypretensions to beauty or style; but he was undeniably considered at thattime, in the circle of my acquaintance, as the most fascinating man insociety. He was commonly spoken of as interesting, and there was a vagueimpression that he was lacking in constancy. It was not unnaturaltherefore that I should be flattered at his singling me out forassiduous attentions, especially when he possessed the art of letting meunderstand in a quiet, gentlemanly fashion, and without the aid ofgarish compliments, that I was the only girl in the room for whom hecared a straw. I did not believe him, but I was pleased, for that wasthe way in which I wished to be wooed by the one whom I wished tobelieve. 

So in course of time I became willing to retire with him intoconservatories and ante-rooms to avoid interruption. I was still fond ofdancing, but I had recovered from the frenzy which blinded me toeverything but the rapture of the moment. I liked to hear Mr. Dale talk, and without an affinity of ideas our intimacy must have died a naturaldeath. But we found a common ground of sympathy in our revolt againstthe subserviency in modern life of romance to matter-of-factconsiderations. He harped upon this string, and awoke a correspondingchord in my breast. His ideas were a correlation of the dreams of mygirlhood. I felt that I was understood. There was such a thing as thelove I had imagined; Mr. Dale had pondered over it, fathomed it, andcould talk about it. Not that I considered myself in love with him, orhim with me. We simply were friends, --that was all. But existence seemednobler when illumined by his theories. 

He declared that the Puritan fathers and their descendants lacked thepower of expression. People were afraid to acknowledge they loved. Theardor that distinguished the passion of other races and made itbeautiful was nowhere to be found, for if it ever dared to manifestitself the breath of ridicule wilted its growth. The expensive "floraloffering" was more prized than the single dewy bud of the true lover, and the zeal and sentiment of chivalry had yielded to the blightingprose of a commercial age. 

My Aunt Helen was the first of the family to comment on my intimacy withhim. 

"What does your friend Mr. Dale do?" she asked one day. 

"Do?"

"Yes. I mean what is his business down town?"

"I don't know, Aunt Helen, " I answered; and I spoke the truth. I hadnever thought to inquire. 

"The Dale blood is not the very best in the world, " she continuedpresently, with her head bent over her work almost as thoughsoliloquizing. "As regards position they are well enough, but two ofthis young man's uncles were extremely dissipated, and I fancy that thefather was not much to boast of. He died early, just after I was grownup. I remember him though. He was a handsome creature. "

I listened with glowing cheeks, but made no response. 

"They have very little to live on I imagine, " she observed nearly fiveminutes later. 

"Of whom are you speaking?" I inquired with dignity. 

"The Dales, child, of course. It was generally supposed that Mrs. Dalewas left very poorly off. I believe her husband's life was insured forsomething, and they own their house. Pussy always looks well dressed, but they must have to scrimp in other ways. "

Pussy Dale was Roger's eldest sister, a girl of just my age. They were afamily of five, four of whom were daughters. 

"I don't see that their being poor is anything against them, " I said alittle hotly. 

"No-o, " replied Aunt Helen reflectively, "perhaps not. But I don't knowwhat your father would say to him for a son-in-law. "

"A son-in-law? You have no right to make such insinuations, Aunt Helen, "I protested. "Mr. Dale and I are friends, and nothing more. "

"I am glad to hear it, dear; for though I should try to reconcile myselfto whomever you chose, believing that a girl is the best judge of whatwill contribute to her own happiness, I own frankly that I should bebetter pleased with some one whose antecedents were a little morecreditable. "

I gritted my teeth and sewed industriously in silence for the rest ofthe evening. I felt injured, without scarcely knowing why. Aunt Helen'saccusations were vague at best. It was impossible for me to doubt Mr. Dale. But on the other hand the idea of our marriage was not a seriousconsideration. Still I felt annoyed and troubled, and I could not helpthinking of what my father and Aunt Agnes had said by way of warning. But though I lay awake long that night I fell asleep at last, convincedthat Roger Dale was the noblest and sincerest soul alive, and that todoubt him would be to wrong the sacred name of friendship. 

This conversation took place in March; but in the next two months Mr. Dale was so much at our house that I was not surprised when my fatherasked one evening the same question put to me by Aunt Helen. Ourintimacy had continued without further developments, except a constantlyincreasing devotion on his part and a corresponding pleasure in hissociety on my own. I did not make my infatuation conspicuous by walkingwith him in the streets, but otherwise I did not attempt to disguise thepartiality I felt for him. Had I mixed more with other girls beforeentering society I might have been less guileless. But as it was, Inever thought of tempering by coquetry the satisfaction visible in myface whenever Mr. Dale appeared. 

This time I was prepared with an answer to the question concerning hisoccupation down town:--

"He is in the wool business, and doing very well. "

"A wool broker?"

"I think so. "

"Humph!"

My father walked up and down the room a few times. "I have alreadycautioned you, Virginia, against false prophets who come to you insheep's clothing. "

He was jocose doubtless so as to pass the matter off lightly, and tospare my feelings. But I chose to be offended, and answered haughtily, --

"I don't understand what you mean. "

He stood still and looked directly at me. "Simply this, Virginia: Itrust you are too sensible to throw yourself away on a man who is notworthy of you. "

"You do Mr. Dale a great injustice, " I replied, with an assumption ofdignity; "and me too. " Whereupon I swept out of the room. 

I flung myself upon my bed and burst into tears. These remarks of myfather and aunt were straws, but they showed me how the wind was likelyto blow. Those upon whom I had a right to rely for sympathy were readyto desert me first of all. It was cruel and unkind. Had I asked to beallowed to marry Mr. Dale? Had either of us ever hinted at the subject?Never! And yet my father was the first to cast suspicions and makeinsinuations, for I understood his unjust taunt. Sheep's clothing, indeed! Detraction was the surest way to make me love him; for if therewas any one under the sun whose sentiments were noble and unselfish, whose motives were manly and disinterested, I believed it was RogerDale. Why had my father spoken in such high terms of my good sense onlysix months ago if he thought it necessary to caution me again to-day? Ifelt bitter and wronged. 

Just then my glance chanced to fall on the tin box in which were thesecurities my father had given me in the autumn, and I blushed as Ireflected that except to deposit the dividends that were sent to me Ihad done nothing toward understanding the care of my property. I hadused the cheque-book to give a little money in charity and to pay somebills, but the pile of financial pamphlets lay on the shelf of my deskstill unread. I had not had time to devote myself to them, or rather thetime had slipped away before I realized it. 

There was some ground after all for my father's reproof. It was possiblethat my neglect and apparent disregard of his wishes had led him tospeak severely of Mr. Dale. The thought comforted me and brought sleepto my eyes. I rose early, and spent an hour before breakfast in readingthe Annual Report of one of the Railway Companies in which I held stock;and I went downstairs with a confused mind, but with a sense of awakenedvirtue. I was cheerful and animated at table, and asked severalquestions concerning mortgage bonds and sinking funds that brought apleasant expression to my father's face. 

The reason why I felt so buoyant was not merely the light-heartedness ofrepentance. My romantic spirit had conceived a scheme for convincing myfather that he had unjustly sneered at Mr. Dale's business capacity. Iwas resolved to consult him as to my investments, and I felt sure thatthe profits accruing from his sage advice would plead his cause moreeloquently than any words of mine. Let but my father perceive myadmirer's sterling qualities, and I knew that he would be eager to makeamends for his injustice by pushing him forward in business. The ideatook strong possession of me, for ever since hearing Aunt Helen speakof Mr. Dale's lack of means I had been eager at heart to assist him. Iwould gladly have asked him to put my money into some commercialventure, and have insisted upon his keeping a portion of the gains; butto that I felt he would never consent. 

And yet I did not believe that I was in love with Roger Dale. Thethought never occurred to me. I was ready to have our relations continueindefinitely as they were. But I was not able to regard the hostility ofmy family without impatience that added a spice of martyrdom to myinterviews with him. The very fact that others thought ill made it allthe more incumbent upon me to be steadfast and undoubting. 

IV. 

Before I had an opportunity to broach the question of investments to Mr. Dale, Aunt Agnes added her quota to my sense of wrong. One evening whenshe came to dinner I divined, from the intense rigidity of her postureat table, that she was offended with me. To tell the truth, I felt atrifle guilty. My visits to her during the winter had been spasmodic andhurried. What was worse, so greatly was I carried away by my socialsuccess, that whenever we did meet I prattled on about fashionablefrivolities regardless of her frown. But though I was conscious of notstanding in her good graces, I felt tolerably secure from comments onthe score of Mr. Dale, for the reason that as she never went anywhereshe would know nothing of my intimacy with him unless Aunt Helen or myfather were to make her a confidant; and this I did not think likely. Therefore, when she introduced the subject while we were alone togetherin the drawing-room after dinner, I was a little disconcerted. 

"Who is this Mr. Gale whose name I see connected with yours?" she askedseverely. 

"With mine?"

"Yes, with yours. Don't beat about the bush! You know perfectly wellwhom I mean. "

"Excuse me, Aunt Agnes, there is no Mr. Gale among my acquaintance. Iknow a Mr. Dale. "

She frowned, and began to fumble in her pocket. "The principle is thesame whether it is Gale or Dale or Tompkins. I never expected to learnof my niece's engagement from the public press. I am confident thenotice said 'Gale. ' Ah! I thought so. Plain as the nose on your face, "she added, producing from her porte-monnaie a newspaper cutting andreading aloud: "'It is rumored that the engagement of the beautiful andaccomplished daughter of Augustus Harlan, the Railway Magnate, to Mr. Roger Gale of this city will soon be announced. '"

"It is not true, Aunt Agnes, " I cried indignantly. Needless to say I wasstartled at this bit of information, coming too as it did from such anunexpected source. My aunt's knowledge of it seemed fully as remarkableto me as the fact of the publication. 

"I trust not, " she replied with emphasis. "I did not seriously supposemy own niece so far lost to all sense of propriety as to take such astep unbeknown to me. But it seems to me, Virginia, you must have beenbehaving in a, to say the least, very peculiar manner, to get your nameinto the newspapers. Where there is so much smoke there is apt to be alittle fire. Who is this Mr. Gale?"

"His name is Dale, Aunt Agnes. "

"Well, Dale then. You won't put me off by quibbling. If you want yourfather to know of it, you are taking just the course to make me tellhim. "

"My father knows all there is to know. Mr. Dale is a friend of mine andcomes to the house by permission. There is no possibility of anengagement between us. "

"An engagement! I should hope not. Do you consider yourself qualified toenter upon the cares and responsibilities of married life?"

"I have already said that I have no intention of getting married. "

"Getting married! Why, the child is crazy. You talk of matrimony as ifit were as simple a proceeding as changing your dress or going to aparty. "

"Some people would appear to find it so, " I answered, goaded toimpertinence. 

But Aunt Agnes apparently did not perceive my innuendo. "I dare say, "said she with asperity. "That is because there are so many fools in theworld. "

We sat in silence for some minutes. My aunt was so much excited that Icould see her hands tremble as she put the obnoxious cutting back intoher porte-monnaie. All of a sudden she looked at me over her glasses andsaid, --

"I am willing to give you one more chance, Virginia. "

I waited for her to continue. 

"If you choose to take advantage of it, well and good. If not, you mustgo your own ways. I am not going to make my life a burden over you anylonger. If you prefer to be giddy and foolish, let those take theresponsibility who have encouraged you to become so. No one shall blameme. "

"You know, Aunt Agnes, I wish to be nothing of the sort. "

"Very well, then. I propose to pass the summer in Europe, and it strikesme as an excellent opportunity for you to cut adrift from theobjectionable associations you have formed during the past few months. With a fresh start, and surroundings calculated to inspire in you adesire for self-improvement, it will not be too late to hope for betterthings. I have every confidence in the natural stability of yourcharacter if you are once put upon the right track. I blame youradvisers more than I blame you. "

I listened to her words with some disquietude. I had never crossed theAtlantic, and at any ordinary time would have jumped at the chance. ButI had already other plans in store for the summer that I did not feelprepared to relinquish, even for the pleasure of a trip to Europe. 

"It is very kind of you to think of me, " I said. 

"No, it isn't. It's only natural, " she answered shortly. "You are mybrother's child, and let alone any affection I may have for you, it ismy duty to save you from harm if I can. "

"Who else is going?" I asked out of sheer cowardice; for I had alreadymade up my mind to decline the invitation. 

"Who else? Nobody. If a woman at my age has not learned to travelwithout an escort, it is time she did. I suppose that's what you'redriving at. Well, what do you say? Go, or remain at home as you like. Only I shall regard it as a choice once and for all. "

"Aunt Agnes, " I answered with an endeavor to express in my tone andmanner the affection and gratitude I felt, "I thank you with all myheart for your kindness. Whatever you may say, it _was_ extremely kindof you to offer to take me abroad with you, and I wish I could go. "

"What is there to prevent your going?" she inquired sharply. 

I hesitated an instant, and then boldly spoke the truth, though I knewit would operate like a two-edged sword:--

"I have already promised to spend the summer at Tinker's Reach with AuntHelen, and she would be disappointed if I failed her at the last moment, for all her plans are made on that understanding. "

"Ah! That is it, " she replied with bitter calmness. "Very well, Idisclaim all further responsibility. You act with your eyes open, andmust take the consequences. "

There was so much pain and concern in her expression that for an instantI hesitated, and thought of changing my mind. I went to her and kneltdown beside her chair. 

"Aunt Agnes, you must not talk so. I love you as dearly as I love AuntHelen; and if I had not promised to spend the summer with her I shouldbe delighted to go with you. Do not repulse me. I have so few relativesto care for me, and I shall be very unhappy if you go away angry. "

But she refused to be mollified. She did not scold me, and she coldlysuffered me to embrace her at parting; but her air was more grim than Ihad ever seen it, and I was conscious of having wounded her deeply. 

Perhaps it is needless to say that Mr. Dale was at the bottom of mydecision. A few weeks previous I had confided to him that Aunt Helen hadinvited me to spend the summer with her at her new cottage at Tinker'sReach. He assured me that there were few more charming spots, that itwas a favorite resort of his own, and that he himself proposed to passhis vacation there. Naturally, I felt bound to a certain extent afterthis to go to Tinker's Reach. Indeed, I was eagerly looking forward to acontinuance of our friendship under such happy auspices. 

When I had spoken to Mr. Dale regarding his business he replied, as Ihave already stated, that it was "wool. " But I noticed he was brief, and his manner did not encourage me to ask further questions, I ascribedhis reserve to modesty, or the proper reluctance some people have totalk of private affairs that in no way concern the interrogator. Thisimpression was heightened by the investigations which I quietly made inregard to the point, feeling that though I could not admit thepossibility of a doubt even in regard to his business sagacity, it waswell to have evidence with which to rebut the insinuations of my family. Every one of the young men whom I questioned regarding Mr. Dale'sprospects assured me that he was doing very well, and attended hisoffice daily. 

This was pleasant tidings, and encouraged me to speak to him of thematter I had at heart. With all my tendency to romance and indifferenceto the opinion of others, I realized that it must be delicately handled. I must not seem to offer a gift or to place him under an obligation. Accordingly, one day shortly before we left town, I explained to him thecondition of my affairs; how my father had settled a sum upon me withthe request that I should manage it intelligently, with a view to havingthe control of larger amounts later. I said further that I was anxiousto learn, and to acquit myself with credit; and that it had struck meas a brilliant scheme to double my property (I fixed upon this as areasonable estimate) by some investment. He listened to my words withclose attention, and as he made no comment at this point I said:--

"You are down town, Mr. Dale, and must necessarily understand businessmatters. I come to you for advice. I want you to tell me what to buy. Iwill give you the money, and when you think it time to sell I willauthorize you to do so. You see I am not entirely ignorant myself. "

Roger Dale gave a short laugh, and made no response for a moment. "Itwouldn't do, " he said at last, shaking his head. "What would your fathersay if he heard of it? He doesn't have any too high an opinion of mealready, I fancy. "

"But, Mr. Dale, that would be the very way to prove to him that you area practical business man. If my father were to take you into hisconfidence he could push you ahead very fast, I know. I will show himthe profits of your investments, and bestow the credit where itbelongs. "

The idea seemed to amuse him, for he laughed again. "You seem to forget, Miss Harlan, that instead of profits you might lose it all. "

"That would be impossible. I have too much confidence in your judgmentto fear any such result, " I answered sweetly, led away by the eagernessI felt to obtain his consent to the project. 

He gave me a swift sidelong glance that made me tremble and set my heartfluttering, though I did not know why. 

"Besides, " I said speaking fast and feverishly, "the money is mine. Ihave a right to do what I please with it. "

There was a pause, and then he said with the same glance, only longerand intenser than before: "Miss Harlan, I cannot accept such aresponsibility unless you give it to me forever. "

I was stunned. I had brought this upon myself I could see plainly, nowthat it was too late. My undignified, unfeminine conduct stood outbefore me the moment he had spoken, in all its mortifying nakedness. Hehad mistaken my meaning, but it was I who was to blame for the error. Humiliated and confused, I was at a loss for words; but a reply wasnecessary. 

"You have misunderstood me entirely, Mr. Dale. Let us change thesubject, if you please, " I said with dignity. 

Fortunately some one came in just at this moment, and Mr. Dale shortlyrose to go. But he dared in taking leave to look at me again in themanner I have described, and in spite of my will and desire my eyes fellas they encountered his. 

We did not meet again, much to my relief, before I left town. I was inan harassing state of mind, and happiness alternated in my thoughts withdespair. For a terrible secret had dawned upon me, --terrible, because Iforesaw the painful consequences which would result therefrom. I lovedRoger Dale. It was useless to disguise it longer from myself. His wordshad made the truth manifest, and that which I fancied friendship wasbecome a mutual passion. Any mortification I may have felt at havingunwittingly prompted the speech that had filled my heart with joy wasnullified by the consciousness that I was beloved. 

But the thought of braving the opposition of my family distressed mebeyond measure, as it must needs distress any conscientious girl in asimilar position. My instincts told me that it was vain to hope thatthey would relent. Their objections were baseless, but none the less Iknew that they would prove insuperable. I found myself face to facewith a dilemma fraught with unhappiness whichever way I should solve it. What was there to allege against Mr. Dale? Nothing. He was poor. Butwhat of that? My father had money enough for us both. Why need he mar bycruel suspicions and prejudices this great joy of my life? I remember tohave wondered sometimes that girls could marry contrary to the consentof their parents, but it seemed to me now that no one could sacrifice anattachment as strong as mine to blind authority without doing wrong tothe eternal principles of love and honor. I vowed in secret that ifRoger Dale should prove as true to me as I would be to him, nothingshould keep us apart. 

V. 

Tinker's Reach, as most people know, is a very popular summer resort onthe Atlantic sea-coast. It possesses the advantages both of the oceanand the country. There are beautiful drives in its vicinity variegatedby mountain peaks, ponds almost large enough to be classed as lakes, andextensive woods where one--or more readily two--may be lost with ease. On the other hand the harbor is adapted to all sorts of craft, from thetwo hundred ton yacht to the bark canoe; and for those who preferlooking at the waves to riding over them, there are superb rocks to situpon and clamber over, which abound in eyries for the retiring and cavesfor the curious. Altogether it is a delightful place. 

It takes its name, not as might be supposed from one of the aborigines, but from a small variety of mackerel known to fishermen as "tinkers, "which used to be seined off the main head-land in large quantities. Originally a primitive settlement, fashionable patronage had dotted theshore with large hotels and showy villas, which at this period were lessnumerous than at present. 

Soon after my arrival I received a note from Mr. Dale announcing that hewould be able to get away from the city by the end of the week. Thereceipt of this missive thrilled me with joy; but I felt that propersentiments obliged me to tell my Aunt Helen. It would scarcely behonorable to carry on an affair of which she disapproved, while enjoyingher hospitality and under her protection. Besides, I was not withouthopes of winning her over to my side. She had always been the one towhom I had gone for sympathy, and her desertion in this case made mefeel sadly the need of an ally. So I said to her one evening, --

"Mr. Dale will be here early next week. "

Aunt Helen shifted uneasily in her chair. "I don't know what your fatherwould say to that. He disapproves of your intimacy with Mr. Dale. "

"I know it, Aunt Helen. He is prejudiced against him. "

"Mr. Dale is certainly a very constant young man, " she replied. 

My heart gave a bound. Her remarks before had been rather in the formof criticisms than regular objections. I laid down my work with theresolve to throw myself on her mercy. 

"Aunt Helen, why is it that all of you are so opposed to Mr. Dale?"

"Opposed! Well, dear, I should hardly call it that, " said my aunt. "Yourfather has an idea, I believe, that Mr. Dale is mercenary in his views. What foundation for it he may have I do not know. As for myself, Icannot say I am opposed, for I scarcely know the young man. "

"My father is very unjust, " I said with tears in my eyes. 

"It may be, dear. Very likely he would own himself that it was merely animpression; but it is only right that he should watch over yourinterests carefully. "

"Is it watching over my interests to cast suspicion on the motives ofone of my best friends?"

"It will all come right in the end, dear. "

"He is noble and high-minded. No one shall say anything against him inmy presence, " I cried fiercely. 

My aunt smoothed out the lap of her dress reflectively. "You are quitejustified in standing up for your friend, Virginia. No one can blameyou for that. I have no doubt this young Dale is all you describe him tobe. Only, " she added, with an apologetic cough, "be discreet. Somepersons, perhaps, would wish to be better informed before ceasing tofeel uneasy. I believe, though, in trusting to a girl's own instinct inthese matters: it rarely goes astray. If my parents had followed thatcourse, I might have been more happy. "

She raised her handkerchief to her eyes to stay a tear, and with animpulse of gratitude and pity I went to her and kissed her. 

"Yes, " she murmured, acknowledging my sympathy with a pressure of thehand, "when I was just about your age there was a young man who was veryfond of me, and I liked him. He wished to marry me. "

"And your father objected to him?"

"He thought we were too young. He insisted upon our waiting until we hadmore money. So we did, and he fell into bad habits, and--and we driftedapart. It is a long story. "

"Oh, Aunt Helen, I am very sorry. "

"Thank you, dear. I should never have told you except to show that Icould sympathize with you. Only, as I have said, be discreet. It is aserious responsibility for me to assume. I hope you will take nodecisive steps without consulting your father. Kiss me, Virginia. "

We embraced with fervor, and I was sure that I had gained an ally. 

Mr. Dale arrived on the expected day and was kindly welcomed by my aunt, who asked him to stay to tea. It was a superb evening, and he proposedthat we should go out on the water as was the custom at Tinker's Reach. 

He had been an accomplished oar in College, and a dozen strokes sent thelight boat skimming beyond the bevy of similar craft by which we weresurrounded. The sea was calm as a mill-pond, and the moon was at thefull. I lay back with my face turned to the heavens and my fingerstrailing in the cool water. Mr. Dale rowed on until the lights on shoreseemed mere specks, and we could just perceive the gentle roll of theAtlantic swell. He rested on his oars and listened. The voices of theothers were lost in the distance, and only the tinkle of a banjo waftedfrom afar broke the night's tranquillity. The water was alive withphosphorescence that sparkled like gems around the blades. 

We had neither of us spoken since starting. I know not what were histhoughts, but mine were full of happiness. I felt sure, --sure of hislove, and sure that he should have mine for the asking. And yet, soperfect was my peace, that I hoped he would postpone the words that wereto make us still nearer to each other. We had talked so much of love andof its rapture and unselfishness earlier in our acquaintance, that nowit was come to us silence seemed the most fitting commentary. 

But he had made up his mind to speak at once. 

"Virginia, I have brought you out here where we are alone, and whereonly Nature can interrupt us, to tell you that I adore you. Let theinconstant moon and twinkling stars laugh as they please. I know thattrue love exists, for my soul is full of it at this moment. Speak, dearest, and make me happy forever. "

In the fulness of my transport at his ardent words, it seemed to me thatheaven was come down to earth. My dreams had promised no suchblessedness as this. Faintly and softly I murmured, --

"Roger, you know that I love you with all my heart. "

"My darling!"

"My beloved!"

Is there an hour to compare in unqualified happiness with that in whicha woman of impulsive nature, ignorant of the world and blindly trusting, whispers the confidences of her innocent bosom in the ear of heraccepted lover? Roger and I, alternately silent with bliss oroverflowing with the rapture of the heart's language, strolled arm inarm along the moonlit shores far into the night. 

Only one incident marred our content. "Virginia, " said Roger suddenly, "what will your father say?"

My father! I had never thought of him. So absorbing had been theconsciousness that Roger Dale loved me and I returned his love, thatevery other consideration was blotted from my mind. 

"Not to-night. We will not talk of that to-night. Let me be happy whileI can, " I cried, pressing his arm with feverish fondness. 

"He dislikes me then? I was sure of it, " he said quietly, but there wasa scowl on his face. 

"He does not know you, Roger. But I will make him give his consent. Hecannot refuse me anything. "

We walked on in silence. I felt stirred and rebellious. "Dearest, " saidI, in a low tone of determination, "I will be true to you whateverhappens. "

He stooped his head and kissed me. "If you are as constant to me, sweetVirginia, as I shall be to you, nothing can separate us. "

Oh, joyous words! Were they not the very same with which I had fortifiedmy courage scarcely a month ago?

We parted just after midnight. My aunt was sitting up for me, and Iburst into the room in great excitement. 

"Oh, Aunt Helen, I am engaged, I am engaged! I am so happy!"

"My darling child!"

We wept in each other's arms. 

"He is so noble, Aunty; so good and kind!"

"God grant he may continue so!" she said, stroking my hair. 

I gave a vent to my ecstasy in talk. While I rattled on she sat dryingher eyes and looking at me with a half fond, half uneasy expression. Nowand again she sobbed hysterically. At last she exclaimed, "What willyour father say?"

"We will think of that to-morrow, " I said. "I mean to be perfectly happyto-night. "

"You will have to write to him of course. "

"We have decided on nothing yet. "

"Oh, Virginia, I am all in a flutter. What _will_ he say? He is sure toblame me, and Heaven knows I acted for what seemed to me the best. "

"It _was_ the best, dear Aunt Helen. Can't you see how happy I am? WhenRoger and I are married, you shall come and live with us always, andhave the best room in the house; for if it hadn't been for you I mightnever have known what it is to be loved by the noblest man in theworld. "

It was a long time before I fell asleep. I was aroused in the morning bya knock at my door. It was Aunt Helen. 

"Let me in, " she said mysteriously. 

"Well?" said I when I had risen and admitted her, "what is it? What hashappened?"

"Your father has just arrived. He is downstairs. "

"Father?"

"Yes. He knows nothing of course. I have scarcely slept a wink allnight, Virginia. I feel dreadfully nervous. What _will_ he say?"

I got back into bed and drew the clothes up to my chin in an affectationof composure. But I was overwhelmed by the news. His opposition seemed amuch more serious consideration than when regarded by moonlight. Avisit from him at any other time would not have been a surprise, for hehad said he should run down to Tinker's Reach at his first leisuremoment. 

My aunt stood at the foot of the bed, watching my face and expecting meto speak. 

"What do you mean to do about it?" she asked. 

"Tell him, " I replied. 

"I suppose you might put it off until you return to town, especially ifyou would make up your mind to see very little of Mr. Dale in the meantime. "

"No. It is best to have it over and done with. I want it settled now andforever. " I felt my courage hardening. 

"Well, Heaven bless you, child!" she said, kissing me. "You must admit, Virginia, that I have warned you all along that your father was opposedto Mr. Dale. "

"It is not your fault in any way, Aunt Helen. I shall tell him so. "

She left me, and I dressed deliberately. There was evidently no escapefrom the situation. But upon one point I was perfectly decided: nothingshould induce me to give up Roger. I was ready to postpone our weddingfor the present, or to humor my father's objections in any reasonableway. But renounce him, never! Having arrived at this determination Iwent downstairs. My father was eating his breakfast, and I waited untilhe was comfortably settled with a cigar on the sofa, before making myconfession. Aunt Helen had taken the precaution to absent herself fromthe room. I began bravely:--

"Father, there is something I wish to tell you that interests me verydeeply. "

He removed the cigar, and looked at me inquiringly. I saw he did notsuspect the truth. 

"I am engaged to be married to Mr. Roger Dale. You must not be angry, father, " I continued hastily. "You cannot help liking him when you knowhim better. He is worthy of me in every way. "

I ventured to look at him; he was smoking with quick, nervous puffs thatbetokened great excitement. 

"Bah!" he cried presently. "Bah! what a fool I have been! I might haveknown it would end in some such way as this. No girl ever had a betteropportunity than you, and yet you are ready to sacrifice everything forthe sake of a fellow who is no more fit to be your husband than theveriest beggar in the street. You have disappointed me terribly, Virginia. I believed you to be sensible and clever; but the admissionyou have just made proves you to be little short of a goose. Bah! youcouldn't have chosen worse. A dissipated, mercenary good-for-nothing!"

"You must not speak in that way of Roger, father. I cannot sit here andlet him be abused. Scold me as much as you please, but don't sayanything against him. You do not understand him. "

"Understand him, indeed! It is you who do not understand him. I neverexpected that a daughter of mine would fall in love with a barber'sblock. "

This was too much for my endurance. "You are unjust, " I cried with, flashing eyes. "It is too late to talk so. We love each other, and if myown father repulses me we must go elsewhere for a blessing. "

I have an idea that I looked like a queen of tragedy as I stood andbraved him thus, for he gazed at me with a sort of astonishment, andmade a movement as if to deter me from leaving the room. Just then, asfortune willed, the door was thrown open, and the servant ushered inRoger Dale. 

He looked from the one to the other of us, and his cheeks reddened. 

"So, sir, " exclaimed my father, "you have come to claim your bride! Youwill have to reckon with me first; and I warn you that you will needstronger arguments than any I have ever heard in your favor, to convinceme that you are the proper man to marry my daughter. Virginia, you mayleave us. I will send for you when I wish for you. This gentleman and Iare capable of settling this matter together. "

I saw that my father was in a rage that would not brook resistance. Butmy own blood was boiling. Roger stood pale but seemingly unabashed, gazing at me as if he waited for me to speak. I addressed him:--

"Whatever my father may say to you, Roger, do not forget that I havepromised to be your wife. " With this speech I left the room. 

VI. 

I went to my room and bolted the door. Presently Aunt Helen knocked, butI declined to let her in. I felt grievously wronged. My father hadtrampled upon the most sacred sentiments of my soul. He had spurned andinsulted the man I loved. What proofs had he of the charges he hadbrought? Dissipation! It could not be. I surely would have discoveredthis long ago if it had been true. Mercenary! Could he be calledmercenary whom a high sense of honor had forbidden to assist me in theinvestment of my property? Good for nothing! Ah, my father did not knowthe noble impulses that underlay Roger Dale's unostentatious manner!

I do not know how long it was before Aunt Helen knocked a second time, and said that my father had sent for me. It was probably not more thanhalf an hour, but it had seemed to me an eternity. I was waiting for thesummons, with the box containing my securities beside me; and with thisin my hands I confronted my father once more in the parlor. 

He was no longer visibly angry. Both he and Roger were smoking, andsitting at ease as I entered. I took a chair close by my lover's side, and looked at him fondly. He returned my glance, but there was a shadowof annoyance in his expression that made me feel uneasy. It brought tomy mind his face as I had noticed it the previous evening, when he spokeof my father's prejudice against him. 

At last my father saw fit to begin. He spoke in a deliberate, business-like tone, free from passion. "I have sent for you, Virginia, to repeat to you what I have already said to Mr. Dale. Once and for all, I will never give my consent to your marriage. I am utterly andradically opposed to it. I have been from the first, as you are aware. If you ask for my reasons, I do not consider this gentleman fitted to bemy son-in-law. He has on his own admission no means to support a wife;he has no ambition or desire to excel, and I know from positive evidencethat his habits are by no means exemplary. "

He paused, and I glanced anxiously at Roger; but his eyes were fixed onthe floor, and he sat drumming gently on the table with the fingers ofone hand. 

"If you persevere in this piece of folly contrary to my expressedwishes, you do it, Virginia, at your own peril, for I warn you that myresolution is fixed and cannot be shaken. Do not hope, either of you, bynursing the affair along to overcome my objections later. That is afavorite resort of young people in novels; but if fathers in real lifeare so weak in general, I shall prove an exception. As you know, Virginia, the part of a tyrannical parent is the last I ever expected tobe called upon to play. I have allowed you every indulgence, and trustedyou to an extent that I am beginning to believe was unwise. But I willnot waste time in words; my resolution is perfectly explicit. My will ismade in your favor. If I should die to-day, you would be mistress of allmy property. Unless you promise me not to marry this man, I shall alterit to-morrow, and neither of you shall ever receive one cent from meduring my lifetime or at my decease. This sounds like a threat, but itis only intended to show to the fullest extent in my power how fatal toyour happiness I consider this union would be. I can say no more thanthis. I cannot prevent you from marrying Mr. Dale if you are bent uponit. There are no laws to punish foolish women or mercenary men; but youmust take the consequences. What you have in that box, " he continued, nodding towards me, "is all you will ever receive at my hands. If I amnot mistaken, this young gentleman would play ducks-and-drakes with thatin a very short time. I have said my say, and now you can suityourselves. "

I had listened to his words with a constantly increasing indignationthat overshadowed the remorse I felt at having disappointed his hopes. So incensed was I at his aspersions of Roger that I almost laughed whenhe spoke of disinheriting me. But the taunt that Roger was courting mefor my money was most galling of all, by very force of reiteration. Istarted to my feet once more with a defiant air. 

"It is not true. You misjudge Mr. Dale cruelly. To show you, father, howfree our love is from the base and paltry motives you impute, and thatwe do not need your help, see there!"

I rushed through the open window which led to the piazza, and beforeeither my father or Roger divined my intention, hurled with all my mightthe box of securities over the railing into the sea beneath. It openedjust before reaching the water, and the contents were submerged by theseething surf. 

I re-entered the parlor with a triumphant air. Roger's face wore ahalf-scared look as he began to realize what I had done. 

"Mad girl!" cried my father with a sneer. "Mr. Dale will not thank youfor that, I fancy. You have, however, done me an infinite service. " Heturned and left the room. 

When he was gone, exhausted and unnerved I buried my face on Roger'sshoulder and sobbed bitterly. He tried to soothe me, and finally inducedme to sit down. He sat beside me, holding my hand and urging me to calmmyself. At last I turned to him and said with a sudden transport of newhappiness, and smiling through my tears, --

"I promised to remain true to you, Roger, and I have. "

"Yes, dear, I know. When you are a little more composed, we will talkthe matter over seriously. "

There was something in his tone that chilled me; he was so calm, and Iso carried away by excitement. 

"Do not think of my father's words, " I said. "Forget them. I shall beperfectly happy so long as you love me. "

"He will never relent, " he answered gloomily. "He is known down town asa man who makes up his mind once for all time. "

"I would rather disobey my father than be false to you, " I respondedfirmly. 

"Yes. But how are we to live?" he asked, rising from the sofa andpromenading the room nervously, with his hands in his pockets. 

"Live?" I echoed. 

"Unfortunately we should have to eat and drink, like everybody else. Itwas a pity, " he continued reflectively, "that you flung that moneyoverboard; we might have been very comfortable with that. "

"Yes, " I replied in a dazed sort of way. 

"Was it the whole?" He stood looking at me with his head on one side. 

"The whole of what?"

"Was all the property your father gave you in that box?"

"Certainly: I wonder you ask, Roger. "

He walked up and down a few times and then took a seat beside me. 

"Let us look at this matter in a common-sense way, Virginia. Heavenknows I love you, and that I am as romantic in my feelings as any onecould desire. But suppose we were to marry without your father'sconsent, what would be the result? We should starve. To speak frankly, Ifind it difficult enough to make both ends meet as a single man. You areused to every luxury and comfort, and have not been accustomed toeconomize. Do not misunderstand me, Virginia, " he continued, speakingquickly, struck perhaps by my expression, which if my emotions wereadequately reflected therein must have made him uneasy. "I know that youare capable of any sacrifice; it is I who am unwilling to permit you togive up your fortune and your family for my sake. If there were anychance of your father's relenting, if I thought there was a possibilitythat time would make a difference in his views, I would not speak so. But as it is, I see no alternative for us but an unsuccessful strugglewith poverty, that would end in unhappiness. It breaks my heart to cometo this conclusion, but justice to you, as well as common-sense, willnot let me suffer you to commit a folly which after the glamour of themoment was over, you would regret. "

It was the manner even more than the matter of his speech that stabbedme to the heart. Had he spoken less calmly and deliberately, I mighthave believed that he shrank from accepting my self-sacrifice, and haveregarded his dampening words as a mere cloak for his own generosity. Buthis unconcerned and dispassionate air left no doubt in my mind thatit was he who was unwilling to face the romantic but desperatecircumstances in which my father's decree had placed us. Instinct toldme that he in whose constancy and in whose devotion to ideality I hadbelieved with all the ardor and trust of which I was capable, was false, and ready to subordinate a love like ours to temporal considerations. 

Yet with the persistence of one who clutches at any semblance of hopehowever slender, I refused to believe the truth without furtherevidence. 

"I should not be a burden to you, Roger. People can live on much lessthan they suppose. We could both work, I as well as you. "

He shrugged his shoulders, and taking both my hands in his looked intomy face with a trivial smile, so little in accord with the intensity ofmy feelings that I almost shrieked with pain. 

"Do you think I would allow my dear girl to demean herself in any suchway as that? No, no! Love in a cottage is a delightful theory, but putinto practice it becomes terribly disappointing. "

I drew away my hands from him and sat for some moments in silence. 

"I think it is best that our engagement should come to an end, " I saidpresently. 

He made a sigh of resignation. "That is for you to decide. It rests withyou, of course. "

"I agree with you that it would be very foolish of us to marry withoutmy father's consent, Mr. Dale. "

He drew himself up a little, and looked at me as if hurt. "Are you angrywith me, Virginia?"

"Angry? Why should I be angry?"

"Then why call me Mr. Dale?"

"Because, " I answered quietly and firmly, though I felt my anger rising, "unless you are to be my husband, you must be Mr. Dale. "

"Can we not be friends?" he asked in a dejected tone. 

"We can never be anything else, " I answered with some ambiguity; and Irose and rang the bell. 

The servant entered. "Tell Mr. Harlan, please, that I would like tospeak to him. "

"I think we are acting for the best, " he said, after an awkward pause. 

"I am sure we are, Mr. Dale. " It was undignified, it may be, to betraymy feelings, but my love was too strong to die without a murmur. 

My father looked inquiringly at us as he entered. His face seemed to mealmost haggard. 

I said at once, "Father, we have made up our minds that you are right. It would be madness in us to marry without your consent. The credit ofour decision belongs to Mr. Dale. He has proved to me that ourengagement should come to an end. "

My father turned toward him with a scornful smile, appreciating, Ithink, the gentle sarcasm of my words. But I doubt if Roger did, for headded immediately, --

"Yes, sir; I cannot consent to the sacrifice your daughter is preparedto make. "

"I am glad that she as well as you have come to your senses, and I thankyou for making the only amends possible for having endeavored to entermy family contrary to my desire, by teaching my daughter her duty. Ihave no doubt that we shall both be very grateful to you in the future. "

This time Roger perceived that he was being laughed at, for his cheeksflushed. But he recovered his composure, and looking at me, said, --

"I trust I may continue to come to see you as usual. "

I trembled all over at his words, but I controlled myself, andanswered, --

"If you wish. "

After a few moments of awkward hesitancy he left us. 

When I knew that he was really gone, I could restrain myself no longer. Sinking into a chair, I covered my face with my hands and burst into aflood of tears. "Oh, father, he has deceived me! He has broken myheart!"

BOOK II. 

SOPHISTICATION. 

I. 

In the bitterness of my humiliation and distress at the perfidy of RogerDale I came near running away from home. My youthful imaginations, as Ihave already mentioned, were of a realistic order, and it had been afavorite scheme with me to become a shop-girl. So when this sorrowoverwhelmed me, I thought seriously of going out into the world to seekmy fortune in some such capacity. It was only my father's kindnessduring those dreadful first days that deterred me from carrying out someromantic plan of escape. I felt sore and mortified, and ready to takeany steps that would separate me from my old surroundings. 

Aunt Helen did her best to comfort me, but I was in no frame of mind totalk it all over, which was, I knew, her main idea of solace, --that andfrequent offers of tempting food. On the other hand, my father made noallusion to the wretched incident during the fortnight he remained atTinker's Reach. He treated me exactly as if nothing had happened, except that every morning after breakfast he proposed a walk through thewoods or up the mountain. Indifferent to everything as I was at themoment, I had a consciousness that this exercise was beneficial to me, and I was grateful at heart. Anything was better than harping over andover again on the same string the story of my wrongs. Walkinginterrupted this in a measure, though during the long tramps which I hadwith my father we rarely talked, and I usually in monosyllables. In thismanner we explored the outlying country within a radius of twenty miles, and when night came I was so fatigued that I was apt to sleep, andconsequently was spared the pale cheeks and dull eyes that for the mostpart afflict those who have undergone an experience similar to mine. 

One of the reasons why I did not run away from home was my lack offunds. I was penniless, for all my money was with the securities I threwinto the sea. I was inclined, however, to congratulate myself upon thisextravagant proceeding, for the reason that had I acted less impulsivelyI might not have detected Roger's selfishness until it was too late. Butwhen just before my father went away he handed me a roll of bank-bills, the color rose to my cheeks, and I began to reflect upon the enormity ofmy offence. He told me that he had ordered a saddle-horse to be sent tome from town, which he hoped I would use regularly, and that in theautumn he proposed to take me with him on a journey to California. 

I listened in silence; but I rode the horse, and found him just thecompanion I required. He could not talk, and yet was sufficientlyspirited to prevent me from self-absorption. My father also sent me abox of books, which embraced a variety of literature. Although therewere some light and amusing sketches among them, novels of sentiment andpoetry had been excluded. On the other hand he had picked out the latestand most authoritative publications relating to history, science, biography, and travel, by which I soon found myself engrossed anddiverted. I read voluminously, and when this supply was exhausted Iwrote home for more. 

This was my interest during the remainder of the summer, and when autumncame I was conscious of having undergone a mental change. Whereas I wasformerly trusting, credulous, and optimistic, at least toward all exceptmyself, I was become suspicious even of the seal of sincerity, weighedwords, and applied the scalpel of analysis to others' motives as well asto my own. 

But this cynical phase did not last long, and gave way in turn to a muchmore serious view of life than I had hitherto taken. The trip which Imade to California with my father did much to promote this. We wereabsent from home eight weeks, and we visited all the principal citiesand saw the chief sights of the West. My father was assiduous in hiskindness. He took pains to explain to me the immense value andimportance of the wool and the wheat and the cattle and the ore whichwere the staple products of the States and Territories through which wepassed. He showed me on the map the immense net-work of railways bymeans of which these industries, if not consumed at home, were carriedto the seaboard either of the Atlantic or the Pacific, and madeprofitable to the producer by exportation to foreign lands. He tried tointerest me in such commercial and economic questions, so that, as hesaid, I need not like most women remain in entire ignorance regardingthe vital interests of the world. Although I was still stolid andindifferent in manner, I listened attentively to his instructions andappreciated the service he was doing me. 

One evening shortly after our return, Aunt Helen said to me, with aprefatory cough which was apt to be a sign that she regarded the topicto be broached as delicate, --

"Virginia, it is time for you to be thinking about your party dresses. Of course it is too late now to send to Paris; but I fancy it ispossible to get tolerable things here, if one is ready to pay a littlemore. "

"I shall not require party dresses. I am not going anywhere thiswinter, " I answered quietly. 

As I have just intimated, Aunt Helen was somewhat apprehensive regardingmy plans, owing to a few hints which I had let fall at Tinker's Reach. She had suggested my sending an order to Paris about a fortnightsubsequent to my last interview with Mr. Dale, but I declinedemphatically to do so. It was evident, however, from her expression thatmy resolve was a source of surprise and dismay to her. 

"Not go anywhere? Why, people will think you are ill. "

"My looks will belie that, Aunt Helen. "

"It will seem so odd and peculiar. A girl always enjoys her secondwinter more than the first. Just when you have come to know everybodytoo! I hope you will reconsider this, dear. You had better order thedresses at any rate, " she continued; "you might want to go when the timecomes, and then it would be too late. "

I shook my head decisively: "I am sorry to disappoint you, but my mindis made up. "

Aunt Helen coughed again. "You are not disappointing _me_; it is only onyour own account that I feel badly. You will make a great mistake, Virginia. Of course, dear, you have passed through a very unpleasantexperience, which I am all the more able to appreciate from having had, as you are aware, sorrows of a similar kind. But painful as suchexperiences are for those called upon to undergo them, they are, Iregret to say, far from uncommon; and if a young person who has suffereda disappointment were to turn his or her back on all entertainments, what, pray, would become of society?"

"Society will get along very well without me, " I answered. 

Aunt Helen knitted rapidly in silence, and the color mounted to hercheeks. 

"You will make a great mistake, Virginia, " she repeated, --"a greatmistake. No young lady of your age can afford to make herselfconspicuous by acting differently from other people. Do you wish to becalled eccentric and peculiar?"

"I don't much care, " said I with a spice of wickedness. "It might berather attractive, I should think, to be different from everybody else. "

"I can imagine who has been putting such ideas into your head. In myopinion one strong-minded woman in the family is quite enough, " she saidwith a toss of her head. 

I knew that she referred to Aunt Agnes, who had returned from Europe afew weeks before; therefore I said, --

"I have not exchanged a word with anybody on the subject. "

"What _is_ the reason, then, that you persist in being so contrary?" sheexclaimed in a thoroughly worried tone, laying down her work on her lap. 

"Because I have awakened to the fact that the little circle in which wemove does not constitute the world, " I answered, rather nettled by hersolicitude. "I live as completely hedged about by conventions as thesleeping Beauty by the growth of a hundred years. "

She opened her eyes in amazement. "All women in every circle except thevery lowest are hedged about by conventions, " she replied severely. "What is it you wish to do?"

"I don't know that I wish to do anything. I am waiting for something tosuggest itself. "

"Does your father know of this?" she asked. 

"Of what?"

"Of your intention to give up society. "

"I have not thought it important enough to mention it to him. "

"Important enough? I shall feel it my duty to inform him. We shall hearnext that you have gone on the stage, or done something equallyextraordinary. "

"What do you mean?" I inquired with a wondering laugh. 

"I have merely taken you at your own words. You have expresseddissatisfaction with the circle in which you live, and wish to tryanother. The only place where people are thoroughly unconventional is onthe stage. "

It was useless to discuss the matter further. Aunt Helen was not to bebrought to look at it from my point of view, and I was resolute in mydetermination. I wished to meet and know a different set of people fromthose of the fashionable world. My ideas on the subject were vague. Ihad spoken the truth in saying that I was waiting for something tosuggest itself. 

There were of course plenty of earnest and interesting people, if oneknew how to discover them. Naturally I often thought of Aunt Agnes, butpride interdicted me from applying to her. I felt that she had, to quoteher own words, once for all made overtures to me, which I had declined, and that I could not bear the humiliation of going to her and confessingmy ingratitude. When she came to spend the evening with us just afterher return from Europe, her first remark to me had been: "Well, a prettymess you and your Aunt Helen have made of it!" Beyond this she made noallusion to what had occurred, but she answered all my questionsregarding her travels with the curtness of one who mistrusts theinterest of the questioner. 

However, as we had not met since, I felt in duty bound to pay myrespects to her, and accordingly dropped in one day about luncheon time. She was not alone; and her visitor, who was a young woman some fiveyears my senior, stopped short in her animated conversation as Ientered, and swept down upon me with a wealth of facial expression inresponse to my Aunt's guttural--

"My niece!"

"This is too pleasant, Miss Harlan. I have heard about you so often, andwished to meet you. Now that we are acquainted, I do hope we shall befriends. "

"This is Miss Kingsley, Virginia. You will not do amiss to follow in herfootsteps, " said Aunt Agnes, by way of setting me down where sheconsidered I belonged, for I had not so far mortified the flesh as toalter my street costumes. As a consequence I was the pink of neatness ina new bonnet which contrasted itself already in my mind with theover-trimmed attire of my aunt's guest. I noticed that Miss Kingsleylooked me over from head to foot with a sweeping glance as she spoke. 

But I felt humble-minded, and disposed to seize any straw that mighthelp me to realize my desire for new acquaintances. So I smiled sweetly, as though undisturbed by my aunt's severity, and greeted Miss Kingsleywith more effusion than it was my wont to display toward strangers. 

"I have heard that Miss Virginia Harlan is very clever, " she said, opening and shutting her eyes in rapid succession, which I soon foundwas usual with her when she wished to be gracious, and which had muchthe effect of heat lightning on the beholder. "Weren't you at Tinker'sReach last summer?" she continued. 

"She was, " answered Aunt Agnes in a stern tone. 

"Then you will be able to tell me if it is Mr. Dobbs or Dobson ofPhiladelphia, who is engaged to our Miss Bentley. I wrote it Dobbs, asseeming rather more distinguished. I agree with Mr. Spence thatmonosyllables are the most sympathetic. "

"I am very sorry to say his name is Dobson, " I answered. 

Miss Kingsley sighed. "What a pity! Mere accuracy and art come so ofteninto collision that it is difficult at times for us artists to dojustice to both. I expended much thought on that item. "

I felt greatly puzzled. It was evident she took it for granted that Iknew who she was. But Aunt Agnes in attempting to enlighten me made myconfusion all the greater. 

"I presume, Virginia, that you are aware that Miss Kingsley is 'Alpha'?"

"'Alpha'?" I faltered. 

"You must certainly have often read her column in the 'SundayMercury'?"

I looked embarrassed, for I never had. But the source of the item whichhad appeared about me in that newspaper was now apparent. 

Miss Kingsley blushed, and giggled convulsively. "No offence. Quitenatural, I'm sure. You have much better things to do than to read myarticles, Miss Virginia. I only thought you might have happened to readMr. Spence's 'Sonnet to Alpha' in our last issue. "

I was obliged to admit that I had not; and feeling that it was as wellto make a clean breast of my ignorance, I acknowledged that I had neverheard of Mr. Spence. 

Miss Kingsley gave a little gasp, and looked amused. 

"Virginia! I am astonished, " exclaimed Aunt Agnes. "Your father gave meto understand that you had been spending a portion of the summer inself-improvement. Mr. Spence is one of the most original thinkers in thecommunity. I cannot believe it possible that you have never heard ofhim. "

"Perhaps Miss Virginia may have read some of his poems or philosophywithout knowing the author, " suggested Miss Kingsley. "You must surelyhave heard of his 'Essay on the Economy of Speech, ' which in my opinionis the most sympathetic thing he has done. "

"One of the most valuable contributions to the literature of purethought that we have had in many years, " said Aunt Agnes. 

I shook my head. 

"Permit me, " said Miss Kingsley, fumbling in a little reticule on herlap and taking therefrom one of several cards, which she handed to me. 

"This is a schedule of his new course of lectures on Moderation. Heregards moderation as the most valuable virtue of our civilization, andis devoting his life to the promulgation of its importance. "

The printed card read as follows:--

 LECTURES. 

 HAWTHORNE ROOMS. 

 SIX SUCCESSIVE SATURDAYS, BEGINNING DECEMBER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

 _BY CHARLES LIVERSAGE SPENCE. _

 * * * * *

 MODERATION. 

 December 28. General View of the Subject. January 4. Tension and Torpor of the Nerves. " 11. The Economy of Speech. " 18. The Use and Abuse of Raiment. " 25. Overeating and Undereating. February 1. Exuberance and Poverty in the Soul. 

"They must be very interesting, " said I. It was something at any rate toget a peep into the charmèd circle, even if I were too illiterateto share its membership; and I was eager to know more of thepoet-philosopher, as I rightly judged him to be from Miss Kingsley'swords. 

"They are eminently suggestive, " said she. 

"You know him well I suppose. "

"Mr. Spence? Yes. If I may say so, " she simpered, with a rapid movementof her eyes, "your aunt and I were among the first to find him out. "

"Is he young?"

"Just thirty. He celebrated his birthday only a fortnight ago. It was onthat occasion that his 'Sonnet to Alpha' first saw the light. "

"Is he good-looking?" I inquired somewhat ill advisedly, for Aunt Agnesmade a gesture of impatience. 

"His face is intellectual rather than handsome, " answered Miss Kingsley. "Its expression is very striking and versatile. Fine, piercing eyes andwaving hair, which he wears long. An intense individuality. But I shouldscarcely call him beautiful; interesting and highly sympathetic inappearance seems to me a more accurate description. "

"If you mean by 'good-looking' to inquire if he is a fop, Virginia, youhad better be undeceived on that score at once, " said Aunt Agnes, with atoss of her head. "I don't suppose Mr. Spence has ever danced the Germanin his life. "

"He is very particular about late hours, " said Miss Kingsley; "that is apart of his system. He believes in moderation in all things, sleep aswell as the contrary. He almost invariably retires before eleven, but herises after eight hours of rest. He considers either more or less asdeleterious to health. I am inclined to think though, if Miss Harlanwill excuse my correcting her, " she continued turning to Aunt Agnes, "that he has once or twice in his life danced the German; for he hastold me that in order to develop his theory intelligently he has beenobliged to study extremes. The happy mean cannot of course be estimatedso intelligently by one who is without personal experience of theovermuch or undermuch he reprobates. Those are his own phrases forexpressing excess or undue limitation, and to me they seem exquisitespecimens of nomenclature. But as I was saying, Mr. Spence has in thecourse of his investigations sampled, if I may so speak, almost everysensation or series of sensations to which human nature is susceptible. For instance, he once spent the night in a tomb, so as to experiencewhat he has so exquisitely styled in a poem on the subject 'theextremity of doleful comprehension. ' You were alluding to the lines onlyyesterday, Miss Harlan. "

"They are Miltonic in their grim power, " said Aunt Agnes. 

"Then again, he lived upon dog and horse during the time of the Communeat Paris. He says it was worth the experience of an ordinary lifetime asillustrating the crucial test of discomfort. So in like manner he hasexperienced the extremes of luxury and pleasure. I have been given tounderstand that he even felt it his duty to intoxicate himself upon oneoccasion, in order to be able to demolish more conclusively thearguments of either form of intemperance; for he considers totalabstinence as almost, if not quite, on a level with over indulgence. One's instinct of course shrinks at first from the idea of a deliberateclouding of the senses being ever pardonable, but the more one examinesthe matter the more innocent does it appear; and I freely admit that Ihave come to regard an offence against morals committed in the interestof science as not only excusable, but in some cases a positive duty. "

"But, " said Aunt Agnes, taking up the thread of her previous remark formy further edification, "however Mr. Spence may have conducted himselfin the past for the sake of discipline, his habits to-day areessentially sober and serious. "

"Oh, dear, yes!" exclaimed Miss Kingsley; "he is intensely in earnest, and discountenances all mere vanities of life. And yet, withal, it ishis aim to pursue the happy mean. He believes in rational amusements, and is very sympathetic in congenial society. If you have no pleasanterengagement for next Wednesday evening, Miss Virginia, I shall be charmedto have you take tea with me at my rooms in the Studio Building. Iexpect Mr. Spence and one or two other friends to be present. "

"With great pleasure, " I answered; and I felt quite elated by theinvitation. My ambition to form new associations was about to berealized apparently. 

"I have hopes that Mr. Spence will consent to illustrate his theory ofthe Economy of Speech on that evening, " continued Miss Kingsley. "As yetthe science is in embryo, and naturally but a very small number ofpeople are sufficiently familiar with the practical details of thetheory to make it advisable to adopt it in general conversation. Butwith sympathetic friends he may feel disposed to make the experiment. "

"You are extremely fortunate, Virginia, " said Aunt Agnes, with emphasis. 

"I should try in vain to be worthy of such an opportunity; but I am verymuch obliged to you, Miss Kingsley, " I answered humbly. 

"You will soon learn, " she said, rising to go. "I am so glad to have hadthe pleasure of meeting you at last. I have alluded to you in my columnon one or two occasions, but this is the first time I have had thegratification of seeing you in person. Perhaps you can tell me, " shecontinued, still holding my hand, "whether there is any truth in thereported engagement of our Miss Leonard to Mr. Clarence Butterfield. Andif you happen to know who are to be the bridesmaids at the wedding ofMiss Newton, of Philadelphia, to our Mr. Lester, I shall consider itvery friendly of you to tell me. "

This made me feel very uncomfortable, for I could not decide on the spurof the moment whether it would be more charitable to my friends to tellthe truth, or to remain silent and let their affairs be garbled. 

"I want to put in something, " she urged, noticing my hesitation. "Ishall either contradict or confirm the report of the engagement in ournext issue. Of course, artistically it makes little difference to mewhich; but it is much more satisfactory to the immediate friends to havean item correct, --just as the friends of a person who sits for aportrait prefer to have the likeness speaking, whereas to the painter itis much more important whether the _tout ensemble_ is a work of art. Toobtain a portrait one can always have recourse to the photographer; andso to insure mere accuracy in a social jotting, it is easy to pay for itas an advertisement. But artists stand upon a different footing. Am Iclear? And I trust that you agree with me. It will do just as well onWednesday; and if you should hear any other items of interest in myline, please note them. You have no idea of the competition I have toencounter. Some artists go so far as to invent their material, but it isnot considered strictly professional. Well, I must run along. Don'tforget, Wednesday at eight, " and Miss Kingsley whisked out of the room, leaving me in a dazed condition. 

The collection of social gossip was apparently her regular business, which she not only was ready to acknowledge, but gloried in, --just as amerchant might take pride in his bargains, or a lawyer in his arguments. There was a certain savor of self-reliance and proprietorship in her useof the word "our, " by which it was evident to me, though I was sadlypuzzled at first, that she distinguished Bostonians from those who livedelsewhere. But horrified as I was by the general idea of such a calling, I could not help feeling amused, and even rather admired Miss Kingsley'sindependence and enterprising spirit. She was a shade vulgar to be sure, but in my present frame of mind I was disposed to rank intellectualsuperiority above mere refinement of manner. I believed that MissKingsley, although but a few years older than myself, could put me tothe blush in the matter of literary attainments and general information. 

Aunt Agnes was plainly of that opinion, for she aroused me from myreflections by the remark, --

"A rare opportunity is afforded you, Virginia, for mental discipline. Ican see that Miss Kingsley has taken a fancy to you. She is not a personwho goes off at a tangent. She must have discerned capabilities forculture in you, or she would never have invited you to one of herentertainments. To you, who are accustomed to society fine speeches thatmean nothing, it will probably occur that she is asking you on myaccount. Nothing of the sort. There is not an ounce of affectation inher. She has asked you because she wants you; and I can only add that ifyou neglect after this to seek improvement, you will be guilty of adeliberate sacrifice of talents for which there can be no excuse. Yes, talents. There is no use in mincing matters; you have talents. I havealways thought so, which is the reason why I have taken so much troubleto keep you from evil courses. Your father has given me to understandthat you have begun to listen to the voice of experience. I tried tosave you from experience by counsel, but you scoffed at my words. Youhave providentially had your eyes opened before it was too late. Youhave suffered, and I do not wish to add to your mortification byreproach. Let by-gones be by-gones, and I trust to hear no more of Mr. Gale and his associates. "

"Dale, Aunt Agnes, " I said firmly. 

She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. "What difference does it makewhether it is Dale or Gale? You heard what Miss Kingsley said just nowabout the unimportance of accuracy in trivial matters. You knewperfectly well whom I meant. Let me caution you again, Virginia, againstan undue estimate of ceremony and form. It is the spirit that is ofvalue, not the mere letter. Especially should you bear this in mind inthe society of such people as you will meet on Wednesday evening. Theworld is a large place, and only in the circle in which you have beenbrought up is excessive regard paid to insignificant details. Sensiblepeople have other things to think about. "

"Does Mr. Spence belong to Boston?" I asked, anxious to find out all Icould about the celebrity. 

But this remark was not more happy than the last Aunt Agnes pursed upher lips and said, --

"If you mean, was he born in Beacon Street, no, he was not. Dreadful asit may seem to you, I know nothing of either his father or his mother. But you will learn when you are a little wiser, that genius in order tobe recognized and admired is not obliged to produce parents. "

"You misunderstood me, Aunt Agnes. I merely wished to know if he were aforeigner or not. "

"He has lived everywhere I believe, and is cosmopolitan, as all greatmen are. He is one of the few characters really worth knowing in ourcommunity. His philosophic and hygienic thoughts surpass his poetry inworth, in the opinion of the best judges. "

"And Miss Kingsley, --does she write at all?"

"Certainly. Did she not tell you that she is the compiler of the weeklycolumn of fashionable items in the 'Sunday Mercury'?"

"Yes, " said I, "but that is scarcely literature. "

Aunt Agnes did not answer for a moment. "You have judged hastily, and consequently have misjudged. If you were to ask me whether Ithink Miss Kingsley's present occupation is proportionate to herabilities, I should answer 'no. ' She would herself admit that it washack-work, --though, mind you, even hack-work can be redeemed by anartistic spirit, as she has so adequately explained to you. All youngwomen have not independent fortunes, and such as are without means areobliged to take whatever they can find to do in the line of theirprofessions. I agree with your implication that society items do notconstitute literature, but they are stepping stones to higher things. Which is the more creditable, pray, to collect and chronicle the socialcustoms of the age in which you live, foolish as they may be, or to beone of the giddy and frivolous creatures whose doings are thus compiledas a warning to posterity, or to excite its jeers? The one is work, earnest though humble; the other, a sheer dissipation of the energies oflife. "

I felt that this was aimed at me; but as I made no response, Aunt Agnescontinued:--

"Do not mistake my meaning now, and say that I wish you to become acollector of fashionable information. On the contrary, I should muchregret to see you anything of the kind. By the very circumstance thatProvidence has given you the means to pick and choose, you are markedout for work of a less superficial order. But you must not under-valueothers who are less able to consult their own preferences. Miss Kingsleyis a young woman of decided capabilities for original composition. Mr. Spence has spoken to me of her in terms of the highest praise. Becauseshe is obliged for her support to cater to the popular taste for socialintelligence, it by no means follows that she does not employ her sparehours to better advantage. I shall not violate any confidences I mayhave received, in saying that Miss Kingsley is capable of literaryproduction of a high order. "

"But, " said I after a moment's silence, "you cannot approve of thecustom of putting the private affairs of people into print, Aunt Agnes?"

"It is preferable at least to wasting the best years of one's life infashionable folly, " she replied with some asperity. 

As I saw it would be hopeless to pursue the conversation on this headwithout danger of further disagreement, I rose to take my leave. Butwhen I stooped to kiss her, she took me by the hand and said with muchseriousness, but with a purpose to be kindly, --

"I have much greater hopes, Virginia, I frankly confess, regarding thestability of your character than when I last conversed with you. You maydepend on whatever assistance lies in my power; but let me impress uponyou that the cultivation which your talents befit you to attain, cannotbe reached without strenuous exertions on your own part. "

"I shall do all I can to make the most of my advantages, Aunt Agnes, youmay depend upon it; and I thank you heartily for your offer of help. Ihope I have done with frivolity forever. "

"My niece marry a whipper-snapper like that Mr. Gale, indeed! Tell me!"

I had not the hardihood to correct her again, and so we parted. 

II. 

Wednesday was only the day after to-morrow, but in the interim I boughta copy of Mr. Spence's Poems and also his volume of Essays, whichcontained "The Economy of Speech, " "The Overmuch and the Undermuch, " and"The Equipoise of Passion, " the last-named being an exposition of theselfishness of unlimited love. His poems, which were for the most partwritten in early youth, were in striking contrast to the essays in tone. Indeed, in the extracts from the newspaper criticisms prefixed to thevolume of verse he was in several instances spoken of as the Baudelaireof America. They were alternately morbid and convivial in style, andwere concerned largely with death, the rapture of the wine-cup, or thebitterness of unreciprocated attachment. I was inclined to be shocked atthe outset, for I had never read anything of the sort before, asBaudelaire was then merely a name to me. I even took the book to my ownroom from an unwillingness to leave it lying on the parlor table. Butafter the first surprise and qualms I found myself rather fascinated bythe unusual nature of the man. At one moment he appeared to be flushedwith ecstasy, and the next in the depths, --an alternative so opposed tothe tenor of his later philosophy that I was fairly puzzled, until Ireflected that these poems had undoubtedly been composed during hisnovitiate, while he was testing the extremes of life. It was obvious, ifhis verse was any criterion, that he had been very thorough in hisinvestigations, and that Miss Kingsley's estimate of his offencesagainst morality was not an over-statement, to say the least. But mycuriosity was aroused to meet a person whose ideas and experiences wereso signally unlike my own, especially in view of the seeming totaltransition of his sentiments as portrayed in his subsequent prosewritings. I thought them a little vague, but extremely interesting. Theskeleton of his system was unfolded in the essay on the "Overmuch andthe Undermuch. " Therein he sought to show in a general way theadvantages of moderation. Nothing overmuch was the key-note of histheory, --an aphorism which found an analogy in the old Greek motto~ouden agan~, which he adduced to prove the antiquity of thevirtue, little as it had been practised. He represented moderation asthe great principle upon which the future progress of civilizationdepended. Without heed to the restrictions which it imposed, humannature must despair of perfection. He ventured to predict that rigorousself-restraint, continued through successive generations, wouldappreciably lengthen the average duration of life, and although withoutmore sufficient data it would be incautious to make extravagant claims, it seemed to him by no means improbable that death might in the end beconquered, or at least indefinitely postponed. The science was as yetembryonic, and until the general interest of the world in itsdevelopment had been awakened, investigation in order to be trustworthymust needs be slow. 

Treating the subject in detail, he applied his theory to variousdepartments of life. His own investigations he alleged to be still veryincomplete, and in this first volume he had only touched upon twosubdivisions, --conversation and love, the presentation of his ideasregarding which were contained in the essays already spoken of, "TheEconomy of Speech, " and "The Equipoise of Passion. " In the first namedof these he laid down as a broad general statement that some people talktoo much and others too little. Here, as in other functions, eitherextreme was disastrous. Prolixity of speech produced avoidance of theoffender, and silence tended to syncope of the language. The causes ofeither fault were in his opinion far to seek, and lay less in the natureof the individual than in the essence of orthography and diction. Tautology was the blemish of written and vocal speech. Too many symbolswere used to express an idea, and nothing was left to the imagination ofthe reader or hearer. Redundancy of expression was the _vade mecum_ ofthe bore, and on the other hand there was no reason to believe that thesound of their own words was the cause why many people were so silent. It was common to hear that a man was afraid to hear himself talk. Byreducing therefore the signs of speech, a stimulus would be given to thereserved and a curb imposed upon the verbose. 

The primary principle employed to effect this was ellipsis, but anaccurate understanding of the intelligence of the hearer was requisitein order to become proficient. The alphabet was not disturbed orabbreviated. The radical change was in the dismemberment of sentences. And here it was obvious that a greater number of words could be omittedwithout destroying the sense with a clever listener than with a dullperson. His statistics showed that two individuals thoroughly conversantwith the system could discourse rationally upon intricate topics by theuse of single words and even single monosyllables in place of entiresentences; and this led him to believe that as the race grew inintelligence, speech would finally become a rudimentary organ and ceaseto be. Nor was this inconsistent with his general theory; for in hisopinion the gradual tendency of all mere physical attributes was tocoalesce with mind. In an analogous way the time would come when mankindinstead of eating too much or too little would not eat at all. But thefirst stage in this gradual evolution must be a repression of extremesresulting in moderation. It was to effect a recognition of this that hislabors were directed. 

I expected to be even more interested in the essay on "The Equipoise ofPassion, " remembering the intense character of his amatory verse. Butthe philosophical terms were so numerous that I found myself at a lossas to his meaning at times. His treatment of the subject was quitedifferent; for whereas (he explained) speech was a physical attributeand destined to give place to some other method of affinity, love waspsychical in its essence, and hence immortal. But he maintained thatmoderation should control spirit no less than matter, and that eitherundue exaltation or a lack of sentiment were inconsistent with thenoblest type of altruism. 

Love in order to be perfect must be rational and cognizant, as heexpressed it. The beloved object should be enthroned, but withoutexaggeration, and yet with ecstasy. The defect of love as it at presentexisted was that it was either an hallucination or a bargain. Thisshould not be; but on the other hand the equipoise of passion like theequipoise of religion, --of which it was in his opinion the peer, andwith which it was in a certain sense blended, --was attainable only byexceptional souls. The equipoise of speech or of raiment or of appetitewas within the grasp of an average human being, but only a few spiritsin a generation enjoyed the perfection of love. This was the crown ofhis philosophy; but it was here that he felt the need of furtherinvestigation before endeavoring to demonstrate the remedy by means ofwhich this number might be increased, so as finally to include allearnest souls. An immature statement would impair the authority of themore elemental truth he had sought to establish; but he hoped in asubsequent volume to complete the exposition of this last step in hissystem. 

III. 

I rapped at Miss Kingsley's door on Wednesday evening with sometrepidation, but with a sense of pleasurable excitement. I felt that herentertainment was sure to be very unlike those to which I wasaccustomed. In the first place, the idea of combining home and businessquarters in one apartment was new to me, and seemed slightlyincongruous. The Studio Building was large, and she had doubtless a hostof neighbors who lived in the same manner; but they were a class withwhom I was wholly unacquainted. Miss Kingsley's rooms were in the topstory where, as I reflected, she could enjoy fresh air and escape theeverlasting tinkling of the horse-cars and rattle of vehicles in thestreet below. 

She opened the door herself, and her face assumed its most radiantexpression as she recognized me. 

"This is too delightful, Miss Harlan!"

I found myself face to face with several people whom she hastened tointroduce. The only familiar name was that of Mr. Paul Barr, which Iinstantly recollected to have seen on the dedicatory page of Mr. Spence's volume of poems. The inscription read, "To my soul's brother, Paul Barr, " and hence I gazed at the stranger with interest. 

From Mr. Barr I got the impression of a handsome but dishevelled lookingman of large stature, with a coal-black beard and dark piercing eyes, which he bent upon me ardently as he bowed his figure in what might wellbe styled a profound and lavish obeisance. He wore a velveteen coat anda large cherry neck-tie, the flowing ends of which added to his generalair of disorder. The other names--to which I gave slight heed, for theirowners were not especially significant in appearance--were Mr. Fleisch, a short, small German with eye-glasses, and Mrs. Marsh, a fat, genialmatron of five-and-forty. 

All this I took in at a glance, for Miss Kingsley conducted meimmediately into her boudoir (as she called it), to lay aside my wraps. 

"Has he not soulful eyes?" she asked. 

"Who?" said I, though I knew to whom she must refer. 

"Mr. Barr. "

"What is he?" said I. 

"A Bohemian, dear, " she replied in a tone of satisfaction. 

"Really?"

I had long wished to meet a member of that mysterious brotherhood, ofwhich of course I had heard and read. 

"Yes. He is a poet-painter, and a great friend of Mr. Spence. Have younever seen his pictures? Even Mr. Spence admits that they possess the_abandon_ of genius, although he disapproves of _abandon_. Their viewsto-day are totally dissimilar, but yet their friendship is sympatheticas ever. Is it not inspiring?"

"Mr. Spence is coming, I hope?"

"Oh, yes. I expect him every moment, and I have made Mr. Barr promise toget him to give us an exposition. Not knowing how you might feel, Virginia (may I call you Virginia? It seems so much more natural afterhaving heard your aunt always speak of you in that way. Thank you, dear. And if you will call me Lucretia, I shall feel much flattered), --notknowing how you might feel about coming where there was no matron, Iasked Mrs. Marsh to join us. We do not regard it of importance, and youwill not a little later; but just at first it is perhaps as well. Doyou know Mr. Fleisch by reputation? He plays with an artistic charm, rare even in this musical epoch. He is a follower of Mr. Spence, and isseeking to apply his principles of moderation to music with strikingsuccess. Ah! you must excuse me, dear, it is his knock. "

I understood that she referred to Mr. Spence, and I waited an instant toput a finishing touch to my toilet before following her into the otherroom. For I had still something of the old Adam, or rather of the oldEve, left in me; so that I must confess my eagerness for culture was notwithout a spice of coquetry, half unconscious though it were. 

Mr. Spence from his appearance was fairly entitled to be called amoderationist. He had nothing of the splendid savagery of Mr. Paul Barr, whose luxuriant and matted head of hair now struck my attention, nor thestudent-like insignificance of Mr. Fleisch. He was neither tall norshort, stout nor inadequately spare; and he was in evening dress likeanybody else. Had I met him without knowing who he was, I should neverhave imagined him a celebrity. This was my first impression, but asecond look at his face revealed firm though thin lips, and smallnervous eyes that were full of fire when in movement. It was nothowever until I heard him speak that I recovered from my disappointment. "Be it so, " was all he said in reply to some remark addressed to him;but the enunciation of the words was so musical, so soft and winning, yet so clear and authoritative, that I was spell-bound for an instantand quite lost my composure as Miss Kingsley, becoming aware of mypresence, proceeded to make us acquainted. 

The backs of all the company except Mr. Spence had been turned to me, for Mr. Barr was fulfilling his promise of persuading his friend tointroduce his system of speech as the order of the evening. The ecstaticexpression of Miss Kingsley's face, as well as the few words I had heardhim utter, were sufficient to show that he had been successful; butwinking her eyes more rapidly than ever she whispered in my ear with animitation as I thought of her master's style, --

"It is to be. "

Almost immediately Mr. Spence, whose bow I had thought rather formal andlike that of the rest of the world, came up to me and said:--

"Welcome, Miss Harlan, to our circle. I know your aunt, --a massive womanintellectually, and my benefactor. As I think our hostess has alreadyintimated to you, it is the wish of some of the company that I shouldgive a practical illustration of certain views regarding the essence ofspeech peculiar to me, of which it may be you have heard from yourkinswoman or others, and which are a corollary of the general truth orvirtue known to the outside world as moderation. I have, however, somedelicacy in inflicting so great an incubus--for it must seem such to theuninitiated--upon one who like you is of the _beau monde_ and used toits smooth ways. I speak knowingly, for I too in my day belonged to the_beau monde_, and am familiar with the easy, however volatile, flow ofspeech incident thereto. "

"Do not mind me, I pray, " said I. "Indeed, I have read your essays aswell as your poems, Mr. Spence, and am very anxious to understand yoursystem practically. "

"Be it so, " he replied. "I did not wish to inflict myself unduly. Artshould be sensitive. Do you not agree with me, Miss Harlan?"

"How exquisite!" I heard Miss Kingsley whisper to Mr. Fleisch, with whomshe was standing a few feet distant gazing at the master. 

It was Mr. Paul Barr who answered the question for me:--

"No, Miss Harlan, Art should be aggressive; Art should be ardent. I donot agree with Mr. Spence. In fact, we never agree upon any subject. Butwe are friends, life-long, bosom friends. Shake, Charles, shake! we havenot given the grip and pressure of amity to-night. "

He spoke in a deep, sonorous base, and extended to his friend a hirsutehand. 

"It is true we belong to different schools, Mr. Barr and I, MissHarlan, " said Mr. Spence. "He believes in the supremacy of theuntrammelled, as his poems and pictures show; I, on the contrary, givemy voice to equipoise. But, as he has well said, we are devotedfriends. "

"You shall judge between us, " continued Paul Barr addressing me. "Whichis better, the free undulation of self, or eternal tension?"

"A fine antithesis, " murmured Miss Kingsley. 

"_Mein Gott!_ but it is not true, that free undulation of self. Itdeceives, it deludes: it is a--what word is it I am seeking?--a--eh--Ihave it, --boomerang, --a boomerang that plagues the inventor, " said Mr. Fleisch. 

"Refuted, well refuted!" said Mr. Spence. "Fleisch has hit the mark. Theovermuch is indeed a boomerang. Thanks, Bernard, for the epigram, " headded, turning to the little German. 

Everybody clapped their hands except myself and Mr. Barr. I preferred toremain neutral. As for the artist, he stood stroking his beard fiercelywith his eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

At this moment the door opened, and a maidservant announced tea. 

Mr. Spence looked at Miss Kingsley interrogatively. "From this moment, please, " said she. 

He shrugged his shoulders and sighed; and as we walked in to teatogether Miss Kingsley whispered that he was about to practise histheory. 

"Of course, Virginia dear, every one will understand that you are anovice, and you will be at liberty to talk in your natural manner. Therest of us are expected to assist Mr. Spence as far as possible. I amall in a flutter; I know I shall break down. "

The room in which we took tea was a veritable snuggery. The servantfound it difficult to get round the table, and there was a strong smellof the frying-pan owing to the vicinity of the tiny kitchen. But theseinconveniences, if they were so to be called, merely added to my zestand enjoyment. Here, indeed, was agreeable and talented society! AuntAgnes was right, --my associates hitherto had been frivolous andvolatile. The world of fashion was a sham. What a contrast, --I could nothelp making it, --between the insipid speeches of my former friends andthe clever talk of this purely literary circle, where ideas andscholarship were recognized and crowned. 

Mr. Spence and Mr Barr sat on either side of Miss Kingsley, and Iglanced from the one to the other, debating with myself whether Ipreferred the bold strong beauty of the artist, or the subtile and moredelicate traits of feature of the philosopher. For though I had begun byregarding Mr. Spence almost as commonplace in appearance, theearnestness of his manner and the serious fervor of his eyes gave him anexpression of having a deep and genuine belief in his own theories, which when compared with the impetuous but more volatile air of PaulBarr commended him to my respect and admiration even while I wasflattered by the gallantries of his rival. 

It was Mr. Barr who first broke the silence after we sat down to table, by asking me if I had not passed the summer at Tinker's Reach. As hespoke in the ordinary guise, I was surprised until it occurred to methat as a member of another school he could hardly be expected, evenfrom courtesy or friendship, to practise doctrines to which he could notsubscribe. 

"Yes, " said I. 

"Malaria, " began Mr. Spence. 

There was a little murmur of expectation, and Mr. Fleisch brimming overwith excitement said, "Bad drainage. "

"No excuse. Sea near. Inhabitants should agitate question, " continuedMr. Spence. 

"Everybody appearance of health notwithstanding, " exclaimed MissKingsley. 

"Overmuch ozone, " said Mr. Spence. 

"Unhealthy stimulus. Reaction later, " added the little German. 

"Are we clear? Air of Tinker's Reach you know; so clever, " whisperedMiss Kingsley leaning toward me behind Mr. Spence's chair. "Sure I shallbreak down. "

I nodded to give her encouragement. All this was somewhat bewildering, but I was able to follow the conversation. I was conscious too of Mr. Barr's eyes fixed upon me with intensity. He would eat hurriedly for amoment, and then fold his arms and listen with his brow almost buriedin his black bristly beard, and his glance centred on me. 

The talk went on briskly. Mrs. Marsh presently joined in; and after thediscussion of the atmospheric conditions of Tinker's Reach wasexhausted, a criticism of a recent volume of poetry followed, in whichMr. Fleisch and Mrs. Marsh took sides against the other two. At times Ilost the thread of the argument, but for the most part I understood themperfectly. Mr. Spence was by far the most proficient. It was wonderfulhow he was able to express frequently in a single word the idea of anentire sentence. I listened with eager and increasing interest. Everynow and then Mr. Barr interrupted the conversation with a torrent ofwords, sometimes by way of soliloquizing comment on the views expressed, and occasionally addressed to me. In the latter case I always put myfingers on my lips and smiled, a course which had the effect ofsilencing him for the time being. Meanwhile everybody ate with appetiteof the good things provided; and the artist-poet, as though to show hiscontempt for the doctrines of moderation, helped himself again and againfrom a crystal pitcher of claret-cup that was at his elbow. 

Of a sudden, to my great consternation, Mr. Spence looked directly at meand said, --

"Paris?"

All my ideas seemed to desert me on the spot. But by a rapid inspirationI shook my head and said, --

"Never. "

"There. During Commune, " continued my interrogator, and I saw from MissKingsley's radiant and encouraging smile and nod that I had been rightin my assumption that he wished to know if I had ever been there. 

"Really!" I said, emboldened. 

"Grisly, " said he. 

"Cat!" almost hissed Mr. Fleisch in his excitement. 

"Dog!" said Mrs. Marsh. 

"Horse!" exclaimed Miss Kingsley. 

Fortunately I recalled what Miss Kingsley had told me regarding Mr. Spence's early experiences in search of extremes, so that I was not asnonplussed as might perhaps have been expected by these ejaculations. 

"Gruesome!" I said, with a determination to acquit myself creditably. 

"Unsympathetic!" added Miss Kingsley, rather unnecessarily as Ithought. 

"Not so bad. Lived on them for days, " said Mr. Spence, still addressingme. "Time of my novitiate. "

"Where self undulates freely there is no novitiate, for all isallowable, " exclaimed Paul Barr fiercely; and he filled another goblet. I almost felt afraid of his gaze, it had become so intense and ardent. Itried not to look in his direction, though there was an originality andfascination about him that made it next to impossible not to steal anoccasional glance across the table. 

Mr. Spence held up his hand deprecatingly in answer to his friend'stirade, while little Fleisch like a trusty retainer exclaimed once morewith fierceness, --

"Boomerang!"

Mr. Spence again turned to me, "Worse; night in tomb!"

"Beside corpse!" explained Mr. Fleisch. 

The ladies shivered. 

"Trifle, " murmured Mr. Spence. 

"Extremity of doleful comprehension!" said Miss Kingsley. 

I felt that my opportunity had come. Carried away as I was by theinterest and excitement of the proceedings, I repeated from memory, without embarrassment, the first five lines of Mr. Spence's poementitled "A Fragment (written after a night passed in the grave). "

 "I lay a living soul within the tomb, -- A ghastly cabin damp with church-yard loam, Where worms are rampant and where night enthrones Darkness and horror, dust, decay, and bones; Extremity of doleful comprehension. "

There was a murmur of applause. 

"Exquisitely apposite!" cried Mr. Fleisch, and for the first time hesurveyed me through his eye-glass with evident interest. 

Mr. Spence bent forward in acknowledgement of the quotation. Mrs. Marshrepeated after her neighbor, --

"Exquisitely apposite!"

"A fine passage and finely rendered, " said Paul Barr; and he sighed(though it was not obvious why), and emptied his glass. 

I glanced at my hostess. To my surprise she was examining a tea-cup, andas she looked up I saw that her face was no longer radiant. Our eyesmet, and in an instant the truth flashed upon me. She was jealous!Without design I had too much absorbed the attention of the lion of theevening. Or was it Paul Barr's glances that I had estranged?

For a moment I was both confounded and regretful, but in the next I haddecided that her resentment, if it were real, was unjustifiable. Anysuccess I had won was unpremeditated, and there was no reason why Ishould be otherwise than natural, or decline to use to the bestadvantage the talents which Heaven had given me. It was Mr. Spenceundoubtedly whom my hostess considered her especial property. She wouldhave earlier indicated her disapproval had the artist-poet been theoffender, for his glances had been unmistakable in their direction fromthe first. I felt in no wise to blame. It was not my intention orambition to captivate either of these literary gentry; but if in myendeavors to appreciate and sympathize with their thoughts and theoriesI had been able to win their regard, was it for me to heed the envy ofone who grudged me this trifling tribute to my enthusiasm? Assuredlynot. Therefore I resolved to act exactly as if I were unconscious ofMiss Kingsley's disapprobation. 

I was aroused from these reflections by hearing Mr. Fleisch call me byname. He informed me in the curtailed speech we were using that he hadset to music the words of the poem from which I had quoted, and thatafter tea he would, with the permission of the company, play it to us. From him and Mr. Spence conjointly I then learned that he had followedout the principles of moderation in a number of original productions. Most musical scores were too long, he said, --just as many people talkedtoo much, --and he was seeking to popularize even classical works byabbreviating them, after the fashion adopted by Mr. Spence in regard toconversation. In this manner formidable pieces, like oratorios andsymphonies, could be made congenial and instructive to those who usuallyfound them tedious. In music as in literature the idea was the mainconsideration, and in Mr. Fleisch's opinion the vehicle by which it wasconveyed should be as little cumbersome as possible. Acting on thisprinciple, he had in one instance reduced an entire symphony to eightchords without destroying the charm. In music compression was possibleto a greater extent, he believed, than in any other art. 

While Mr. Fleisch and Mr. Spence were devoting their attention to makingthis new offshoot of the system clear to me, I was occasionallydistracted by the behavior of Miss Kingsley, who was audibly using myname in the course of a whispered colloquy with Mr. Barr. The artist'seyes still never strayed from my face, but his ear was open to hisneighbor's confidences; and I could gather--for it is difficult to avoidlistening where one is the subject of conversation--that she wasrepresenting me as belonging to the world of fashion, and present merelyupon sufferance. I noticed too that, curiously enough, Mr. Spence seemedattracted by the sound of my name, and would now and then secretly lendan ear to what was being said upon his other side. In fact I soon madeup my mind that it was for his benefit Miss Kingsley was talking. Shehoped to undermine my influence by an unflattering description of mydoings in society. It was doubtless her cue to make her guests regard meas a frivolous character. 

Naturally I was indignant, and my pride was aroused. To be sure I was inher debt for the opportunity she had given me of meeting these literaryfriends, but that gave her no license to misrepresent me, in a lightwhich in my present humor was the most distasteful she could haveselected. Under the spur of pique I redoubled my graciousness toward Mr. Spence and Mr. Fleisch, and likewise watched my opportunity to court theartist with a smile, whereupon he sighed again and reached out his handfor the crystal pitcher; but it was empty. 

Miss Kingsley, however, was not one to quit the field without astruggle. So successful were my efforts that she was forced to sitsilent and with a smile on her lip, from her obligations as a hostess;but I knew she was preparing a revenge. 

It came sooner than I expected. Taking advantage of a pause in theconversation, caused by Mr. Spence leaning forward to explain to me onpaper the rudiments of an attempt he had been making to apply theprinciples of the Economy of Speech to arithmetical problems, shewhispered in an aside to Paul Barr, but so loud as to be audible toevery one at table, --

"Three millions at least. "

Impertinent as this reference to my worldly prospects was, I should nothave regarded it as of importance but for the strange behavior of Mr. Spence, whose hand at the announcement shook in writing like an aspenleaf. He looked up at me with an expression of mingled pain and inquiry, which was so completely earnest that my own eyes drooped on meeting his. An embarrassing silence ensued for an instant, and then with a boundPaul Barr rose from his chair, and flinging himself down before thepiano began to dash off a wild, exuberant production that suggested thelawless but triumphant pæan of some heathen divinity. 

As we returned to the other room I felt instinctively that my prestigewith Mr. Spence had been impaired by the whisper of Miss Kingsley. Hisattentions ceased, and as a consequence Mr. Fleisch also neglected me. Itook a seat on the sofa by the side of Mrs. Marsh. In an opposite cornermy rival and the two moderationists were examining a manuscript withoutapparent consciousness of my existence. The sudden transposition ofaffairs made me sensitive. Paul Barr still sat at the piano executinghis delirious fantasy, and ever and anon looking back over his shoulderat me. He at least was faithful. But it was not admiration I sought. Iwished for respect for my intelligence, and to be considered a promisingproselyte of culture. I seemed a few moments ago to have won thisrecognition from the entire company, and now I was an outcast. 

As fortune would have it, the mystery was explained a few minutes laterthrough the efficacy of Mrs. Marsh. We entered into conversation, andalmost immediately she volunteered certain details regarding MissKingsley, brought about primarily by my inquiring her age. 

"How old? Lucretia Kingsley will never see thirty again, no matter howhard she tries to look younger. She's a fine-appearing girl though, anda stylish dresser. She makes a pretty penny, I understand, out of thework she does for the newspapers. Folks say, "--here she loweredher voice; and let it be added at the same time that I felt somecompunctions at her not continuing to use the economic system, but in myinterest to learn her secret I was weak enough to let her go on, --"folkssay that she and Mr. Spence will hit it off together some day. I guessshe's thrifty, too, when she's not at her books. Did you notice howworked up he was when your three millions were spoken of? I could seehe'd taken a fancy to you, but when that came out he had to drop youlike a hot cake. "

"What do you mean?" I asked, too much astonished to be upset by hercolloquial style. 

"It's the only part of his philosophy that I don't altogether take to, for it doesn't seem quite natural to me to turn one's back on whatHeaven sends in the way of income. I'm an out-and-out convert to hisdoctrines into the bargain. I used to believe in having a good time, andall that sort of nonsense; but I've come to see that what he callsequipoise is the true road to happiness, and that it's best to leave offa bit hungry if you want to live to a green old age. I suppose you'veheard his lecture on 'Overeating and Undereating'? If you haven't, don'tfail to go the next time he delivers it. There's more good soundmedicine in two sentences of that than in all the apothecary shops increation. I went to hear him by accident too, for I'm not partial tolectures as a rule. I had the dyspepsia bad, and had spent more money onphysic and the doctors than it would take to support Mr. Spence for therest of his born days. They all wanted one of two things, --either that Ishould stuff myself or starve myself. One was for having me eat everyfive minutes, and the next made me weigh everything that went into mystomach. But Mr. Spence took the bull by the horns when he said, 'Somepeople eat too much, and some eat too little. Preserve a happy medium!'And that's what I've been doing ever since, and the consequence is Icould eat nails if I was pressed hard. "

"But eating is quite a different thing from income, " she continued, relieving at last my impatience; "and I can't see the sense of his ideathat people shouldn't keep more than just enough money to live on. It'sa part of his system, as he calls it, I know; and if he says that humannature would be better with less, I am not the one to gainsay him, forthere's no young man of his years in the city smarter than Mr. Spence, and he may be right. I can say, though, that before this it has stood inthe way of his marrying. Only two years ago there was a young lady fromNew York just crazy to get him. She was real elegant too, and folks sayhe fancied her. But she was very rich, just as you are; and she wasn'twilling--and I don't blame her either--to give up every blessed centbecause he wanted her to. But he is bent on carrying his principles ofmoderation into daily practice, and there's no use in resisting him. It's rare he takes a liking so strong as he took to you to-night, andperhaps it was best for both of you that the truth came out when itdid. "

"Very much, " I answered in a dazed tone. 

Mrs. Marsh's confidences had mystified me more than ever. Of course Icould no longer doubt Miss Kingsley's jealousy; but it was not equallyapparent to me why Mr. Spence should have felt obliged to change hisbehavior so precipitately because of my wealth. Surely he could tolerateeven if he did not advocate the possession of riches. I was young, andhad much to learn. It was possible that when I came to hear hisarguments, I might be convinced and ready to sacrifice my prospects of alarge income to the demands of a noble philosophy. If it were a questionof marriage, I could readily understand his insisting that his brideshould comply with his views in this respect. But I was merely a guestof Miss Kingsley, an acquaintance whom he might never see again. Hisconduct seemed to me irrational and strange. I could not believe that hehad cast me off because of an unwillingness to offend his hostess, forhe had appeared wholly absorbed in my presence until her impertinentspeech in regard to my property had put an abrupt end to hiscomplaisance. 

Meanwhile Mr. Barr had finished his pæan and seated himself near me. There was no mistaking the glances he cast, and out of respect tomyself I chose to exhibit some coldness of manner in response to hisremarks, which were an ardent defence of passion and what he called_verve_ in music, literature, and art. Keen enjoyment, he said, wasnever to be found in restraint; and if extremes tended to shorten humanlife, a short existence crowned with pleasure was preferable tofour-score and ten years of dull uniformity. The giant trees of theforest, the reddest roses of the garden, and the fairest faces inChristendom must be frowned on as noxious if the doctrine of moderationwas to prevail. For were not they extremes? Yet rob the world of them, and where would a recompense be found for their loss? In ordinarygrowths, in the every-day rose, in commonplace beauty? Heaven forbid!and he pulled at his beard, and his fine eyes flashed in the fulness ofhis excitement. 

Mrs. Marsh looked shocked, and took up the cudgels against him indefence of the opposite principles, so that I was able to keep silentand wonder. He would fain deify passion, he said; and there were twopassions which no human agency could stem or curb, --the passion forwealth, and the passion of love. Thereat he looked at me again, with somuch eloquence of expression that I had to blush and turn my head away. 

Then the little German, Mr. Fleisch, sat down at the piano and performeda series of pieces in illustration of what he had explained to me, including a sonata in four bars, a symphony in three chords, and a songwithout words, in paraphrase of Mr. Spence's "fragment" in celebrationof a night passed in the tomb. I was so thrilled and delighted by theseselections that I quite forgot my perplexities, and revelled in theenjoyment of these new-found theories. Presently too Miss Kingsley cameover to sit by me, radiant and expressive as before. The coolness on herpart had completely vanished, and needless to say my heart felt lighter. 

Resolving to be natural and to obtain as much benefit as possible froman opportunity that I might never have again, I moved about the room andmanaged to renew my conversation with Mr. Fleisch, who after a momentarycoldness seemed gratified at my expressions of interest in his musicalideas. We recommenced the Economic system of speech, and presently werejoined by Miss Kingsley. I rapidly grew proficient; and so absorbed didI become in an attempt made by us three to carry on connectedly anentire conversation in single words, that I was startled at hearing avoice just behind me say, --

"Carriage. "

I turned, and found myself face to face with Mr. Spence. I understoodthat he had come to announce to me the arrival of my coupé. 

"Servant, " he added. 

This told me that my maid was waiting at the door. 

Mr. Spence's face was courteous but grave, and his lips were firmly set. During the time of my conversation with Mr. Fleisch and Miss Kingsley hehad been sitting apart with Mrs. Marsh, while Paul Barr had returned tothe piano and played a series of passionate and ardent music, the wordsof which he sung in a deep bass. But at the knock of my maid he paused, and now sat looking back over his shoulder at me with pathetic eyes. 

"Home, " I said to my hostess. 

"Early. "

"Horses. "

"Sorry. "

Her face expressed the regret at my departure which it seemed to me anyextra words would have impaired the artistic value of, so much of aconvert to the views regarding moderation had I become. 

Miss Kingsley produced my wraps from her boudoir, which Paul Barr with abrace of sighs assisted me to put on. I bade good evening to them all. Mr. Spence made me a low but formal bow. I could see his lip tremble. The instant after, as with Paul Barr at my side I began to descend thestairs, a hurried step behind told me that the master was coming also. Iwent down to my carriage with one on either hand, the artist-poetpouring out a flood of words which I scarcely heeded, while Mr. Spencein an occasional monosyllable endeavored to express the hope that hemight meet me again. 

Just as I reached the threshold a superb rose, which had been the onlyornament of my costume, chanced to fall from my corsage on the marblefloor. It lay nearest to Mr. Spence, who started to pick it up. But hehesitated, and the consequent delay was taken advantage of by his rival, who had darted forward at the same moment. Mr. Barr lifted the rose andpressed it to his lips eagerly, twice and thrice. Then, without askingmy leave, he put it in his button-hole. It was he too who helped meinto my carriage. He bent low over the hand I gave him, while Mr. Spence, still irresolute, bowed from the shadow of the door-way. 

"May I have the honor of calling upon you?" asked Paul Barr. 

"Certainly, if you wish. And, Mr. Spence, I shall be very glad to seeyou also, " I cried from the carriage window. 

IV. 

I felt next morning a little as if my experience of the previous nightwere a dream. But as I thought over all that had occurred, what may becalled the romantic features seemed to dwindle in distinctness andimportance, and I dwelt chiefly on the mental profit I had derived fromthese new associations. Once more I deplored the existence of the vainand coquettish notions that had led me to construe as devotion theenthusiasm of the clever men who had honored me with an explanation oftheir original and interesting conceptions. It was clear that I wasstill not wholly free from flippancy and nonsense. 

I did not attempt to decide between the merits of the diametricallyopposed schools of thought represented by Mr. Spence and Mr. Barr. I wassensible enough to understand that long study and reflection would berequisite to qualify me to take sides intelligently. But yet I hadalready a distinct preference. I felt that whatever the value of hissystem, Mr. Spence was thoroughly and grandly in earnest. His whole soulwas in the spread and development of his peculiar doctrines. To obtaintheir recognition he was willing to sacrifice luxury, comfort, and allthe pleasures of life. Everything else was a secondary consideration. Already in the course of his thorough investigations he had enduredhorrors and committed extravagances from which a nature so palpablyrefined as his must have shrunk with loathing. It was novel anddelightful to me to meet a man so completely absorbed in a pursuit whichpromised no reward beyond the amelioration of society, --a result ofwhich he could hope to live to see only the beginnings. For mere dollarsand cents he cared nothing. He had no ambition to grow rich; indeed, itwas one of his tenets that no one should retain more than a certainamount of property, --doubtless enough to keep the wolf from the door, and to permit the continuation of scholarship. How much more unselfishand ennobling a life than that of the feverish money-getter, with allhis appliances of forge and factory, and export and import! I had foundan answer to my yearnings and my unrest in this untiring devotion toabstract truth. 

A part of this was true undoubtedly of Paul Barr as well. Ardor and zealwere the very essence of his philosophy; but it was easy to divine bylooking at him--at least it appeared so to me--that he lacked the spiritof persistent, unselfish scholarship which distinguished his rival. Ifelt that he was superficial, and that he would rather sacrifice hisprinciples than his own interests. 

All the more did I have faith in this instinctive preference for Mr. Spence, from the fact that from the standpoint of the picturesque andromantic everything was on the side of the artist-poet. Tall, dashing, handsome, and brilliant, he was adapted and doubtless accustomed tocarry hearts by storm. No woman could receive his admiring glanceswithout that slight thrill and flutter of the heart which proves thepresence of a fascinating man. On the other hand the master--I liked tothink of him as such--was, as I have already intimated, commonplace inappearance at the first glance, and save for his marvellous voicedistinguished for none of those graces which attract my sex. Perhaps itwould be more just to say that he sought to repress them rather thanthat they did not exist, for when under the influence of enthusiasm forhis science his face was inspiring to look upon. 

Such were the conclusions at which I arrived after sifting myimpressions. But never did my incapacity and dearth of knowledge appearto me in a less complimentary light than at this time. I vowed again andagain to give myself up unreservedly to study, and first of all tochoose some special branch that would prevent my efforts from resultingin merely desultory work. If so, what better field could I choose thanthat in which there were fellow-workers already whom I knew, and withwhom I could sympathize? The more I thought about the subject thestronger did the argument in favor of this selection appear. At last onemorning in an access of enthusiasm I sat down and wrote a note to Mr. Spence, asking if he would be kind enough to call on me at hisleisure, --"on a matter of business, " I added, so as to preclude anypossible misinterpretation on his part. 

This was about a week after Miss Kingsley's tea. In the mean time I hadbeen to see Aunt Agnes twice, but had not found her at home. I wascurious to hear what Miss Kingsley would say concerning me, for I feltby no means sure that her remarks would be wholly complimentary. Freelyas I blamed myself for my conceited notions at the time, regarding theattentions of the two philosophers, I was not ready to absolve her fromthe imputation of jealousy. It was difficult to explain her conduct onany other ground, and I remembered what Mrs. Marsh had said as to tenderrelations between her and Mr. Spence. Indeed, I felt some irritationagainst her and a conviction that she was not likely to be altogether myfriend when we were not face to face. However, she had chosen to insertmy name in the next issue of the "Mercury" as having been present at asmall gathering at her "parlors" to meet "the distinguished scientistand poet, Charles Liversage Spence, "--a notice which she doubtlessconsidered "sympathetic. "

I stayed at home the whole of the day following that on which I wrote toMr. Spence, and was rewarded by receiving a visit from him in theafternoon. He seemed little at his ease when he entered the room, and Iobserved a number of details of dress and manner which showed that hewas not versed in the usages of fashionable life despite his earlyexperiences. These lapses, or rather differences, did not affect medisagreeably, --indeed, I was well content that he should be as unlike aspossible the flippant youths of so-called society, --but they were muchmore noticeable than when he was in the midst of such artisticsurroundings as he found at Miss Kingsley's. 

I judged it best to enter at once on the matter I had at heart. 

"You will pardon me I am sure, Mr. Spence, for taking up your valuabletime, when I tell you my reason for asking you to call upon me. I willbe frank, and say that I have been for some time anxious to find aninterest to which I could devote myself thoroughly and systematically, and one that was wholly in sympathy with what I feel to be my tastes andaspirations. I have a great deal of time at my disposal, and have becomeweary of the amusements of society and of the merely superficialcharacter of my studies hitherto. The exercises to which I had the goodfortune to listen at Miss Kingsley's the other evening were almost arevelation to me. They confirmed at least the opinion I had begun tohave, that outside of what the world calls fashionable circles there isa class of people who like yourself find their happiness in intellectualaims and pleasures. So much interested was I by what I heard then, thatI have decided, after some hesitation on the score of troubling you, tooffer myself as a student of your system of Moderation. It may be, " Iadded, speaking hurriedly in my desire to put the matter clearly beforehim, and yet not to be prolix, "you do not care for the co-operation ofpersons so little advanced as I; for I tell you honestly that thoughtolerably proficient in what are known as accomplishments, I am ignorantof all that appertains to serious knowledge. But believe me when I saythat I am thoroughly in earnest, and will devote myself to the causewith all my heart, in case you think me able to be of assistance. "

Mr. Spence heard me to the end without interruption. I had lookedstraight before me, intent alone upon presenting my case in such a lightthat while he knew the worst, he would not reject my request to becomeone of his pupils. Nor did he reply at once. I glanced at him, and sawthat he was blushing; but he mastered his confusion, and said quietly:--

"Miss Harlan, I have received few compliments in my life more acceptablethan that comprised in what you have just said to me. It is precisely tosuch alert and reflective minds as yours that I wish to make my theoriesinteresting. I am devoting the sum of my energies to the propagation ofwhat I regard as a truth vital to the well-being of humanity. You knowthe leading features of my system already. I will not disguise from youthat an advocacy of them will expose you to publicity, it may be toridicule. Our converts are as yet few; and in order to be of service, those who devote themselves to the work must be enthusiastic. I do notsay this because I doubt your sincerity or steadfastness; probably youhave considered these things already. But it is right that you should befully informed regarding the character of the cause you propose toadopt. "

"But I may decide not to adopt it in the end, Mr. Spence, " I said, notwishing to commit myself irrevocably. "I am very much interested in yourideas, but I should prefer to be accepted merely as a student until I ammore familiar with them. As I have said, I am very ignorant of all suchmatters, and need instruction. I have spoken to you rather to ask youradvice as to whom to select as a teacher, than to offer myself as anactive convert. The rest will come in time, I have no doubt, for I amgreatly attracted by what I have heard already. "

"I see. You are right, " said he. "Precipitation is directly opposed tothe spirit of my theories. I should have said you were already qualifiedto become an active worker, but you are the best judge: and, as youhave mentioned, you will be able to become familiar with the system atyour leisure. "

He paused, and seemed to be absorbed in thought, as though he weredebating with himself. 

"Do you know of any good teacher?" I inquired. 

"I am reflecting. "

"I should expect to pay any competent person liberally. "

He flushed a little, and after an instant said:

"I thought at first that I might see my way to offering myself as aninstructor, but on reflection I find it would be difficult for me tofind time. I know of no better persons to suggest than one of ourfriends of the other evening, --Mr. Fleisch or Miss Kingsley. Either ofthem is admirably well informed and intelligent. "

"Oh, but if you could arrange it so, I should much prefer you, Mr. Spence, " I exclaimed with genuine eagerness. "I did not dare to imaginethat such an arrangement was possible. But now that you have suggestedit yourself, I cannot give up the idea without remonstrance. "

I looked at him beseechingly, and he blushed again in a manner to causeme self-consciousness. He hesitated, and then in a decided tone, as ifhe were resisting a temptation, said:--

"It is out of the question, Miss Harlan. I have not time. Mr. Fleisch isan excellent instructor. "

"Very well; Mr. Fleisch then, " I answered, a little upset by hisconfusion. "Will you speak to him about it and arrange the terms?"

He assented, and the awkward pause that followed was relieved by theentrance, at the same moment, of Aunt Helen and Mr. Barr, though not incompany it need scarcely be added. 

Aunt Helen was in one of her richest and most imposing street costumes, whereas the artist-poet wore black velveteen instead of brown, and aflowing yellow tie instead of a cherry one. She regarded him, I couldsee, with a mixture of horror and wonder, which led me at once toperform the duties of a general introduction, preliminary to takingpossession of Mr. Barr, and relegating to Aunt Helen the lessunconventional philosopher. Paul Barr however bowed to her in so superband deferential a manner that I thought she looked rather flattered thanotherwise, which relieved my worst apprehensions, and I found myselfstraightway chatting with him in a somewhat spirited vein. Heard, in myown drawing-room, Mr. Barr's compliments and ardent speeches moved me tobadinage, and I saw no harm in accepting them as the ordinarygive-and-take of the would-be lady-killer, more original and thereforemore entertaining than those of a fashionable flirt, but still of thesame general character. I affected to be alternately irate and pleasedat what he said. Meanwhile his eyes looked unutterable things, and heinterspersed his flatteries with a tissue of abnormal but poeticfancies. He was undeniably fascinating, and all the more so because Ifelt in his society somewhat as if I were walking through a gunpowdervault, with a lighted candle. But there was this difference, that in hiscase the character of the possible explosion was wrapped in mysteriousuncertainty, which added an agreeable element of curiosity to mysensations. 

Presently he drew from his breast pocket a small volume in white vellumand gold, which he presented to me. It was a copy of his poems, --"TheParadise of Passion, and other Rhythms. " I glanced at the fly-leaf, andto my astonishment and confusion perceived that underneath theinscription, "Miss Harlan, with the respectful homage of him who didthese verses, " was a sonnet "To Virginia, " which began, --

 The happy rose which lately from thy hands I took with kisses, dry and withered lies--

I did not attempt to read farther at the moment. Indeed, I felt inclinedto draw myself up austerely at first, but on second thought acknowledgedhis presumption with the same laughing coquetry I had hithertodisplayed. After all, it was not worth while to become angry. Hisextravagance was not to be taken too seriously. It was rather refreshingfor a change. I wondered how he would behave if he ever really were inlove. 

Meanwhile I had endeavored to listen at the same time to theconversation between Aunt Helen and Mr. Spence. I was relieved to findthat he saw fit to avoid any allusion to his theories, and pursued thehighway of indifferent subjects, such as the weather, the stage, andforeign travel. Still, I could tell from Aunt Helen's superior and as itseemed to me disdainful tone that she by no means approved of my newacquaintances, though I detected her casting an occasional glance ofpuzzled curiosity at Mr. Barr, whose eccentricities were, I suppose, more amusing than the calm of her companion. 

"I don't suppose you find the differences very marked between thiscountry and Europe, Mr. Spence?" I heard her inquire after learning thathe had passed much of his life abroad. 

"On the contrary, very slight. "

"Nice people are very much the same everywhere, " she observed haughtily. 

"To tell the truth, " said Mr. Spence, "I have been rather disappointedat finding the people, as well as the manners and customs, of thiscountry so similar to those across the water. I had been led to expectoriginality and independence. That was what I was taught to believe as achild. But after an absence from my country of six years I came back tofind nearly the same manners and customs, and the same virtues andvices, as I left behind me in Europe. "

"Vices?" echoed Aunt Helen. "I should say there was much less vice inthis country than in Europe. "

"Not if we judge by the newspapers. "

"Ah, but one can't believe all one reads in the newspapers, " she saidwith an air of triumph. 

Mr. Spence had, unluckily for the impression he was likely to create, the courage of his convictions as I well knew, and as he began to replyI felt less secure that he would not trench upon dangerous ground. 

"There is a general tendency to ape foreign ideas, which is fastdestroying our originality as a nation, " he continued. 

"Foreign ideas are often the best, " said my aunt. 

"We are beginning to talk and dress, and dine and give in marriage, justlike all the rest of the world, " he explained, without regarding hercomment. 

Aunt Helen looked a little blank. Then with her most stately air shesaid:--

"Surely you wouldn't have marriages performed before a Justice of thePeace? It destroys all their sentiment. I know a great many persons whowouldn't consider themselves married so. As to living differently, Idon't know what you mean. There are people here who advocate cremation, co-operation, and that sort of thing, but one doesn't meet them insociety. "

"I am no judge, " said Mr. Spence coolly, "for I never go into society. "

"Indeed!" Aunt Helen surveyed him through her eye-glass as if he were acurious animal, and her haughtiness perceptibly increased. "Areyou--eh--in business in Boston?"

"No, madam. I am a Bohemian, " replied Mr. Spence, in whose eye Iperceived a twinkle. 

"A what? Ah, yes, of course. I understood you to say you were born inthis country. And the other gentleman--eh--is he a foreigner too?"

For an instant Mr. Spence looked bewildered; and as for me I wasinwardly convulsed, so much so that I betrayed my feelings in a smile atthe moment when Paul Barr was reciting a bloodcurdling piece of poetryof his own composing, --an indiscretion which offended the artist-poet tosuch an extent that in my efforts to mollify him I failed to catch Mr. Spence's reply. He rose to take his leave at this point; but it chancedthat just then my father entered the room, and I was obliged to repeatthe introductions. While I was saying a few last words to Mr. Spence inregard to the sort of instruction I was to receive from Mr. Fleisch, Paul Barr conversed with my father, laying down the law in his mostsuperb fashion regarding the immense fortune in store for any one whowould start what he called a fig farm in this country. Although I hadnever heard him broach a business matter before, he seemed entirelyfamiliar with his subject, and fairly bristled with statistics andcalculations to prove the soundness of his theory, gardeners to thecontrary notwithstanding. My father listened to him patiently, andseemed to be amused. Aunt Helen sat apart with a reserved, patricianair. 

My two callers took their leave together; and when the front doorclosed, my father said jocosely, --

"Who are your friends, Virginia? I hope they have not been persuadingyou to invest in a fig farm. "

I blushed, remembering my former design of speculating with Mr. Dale, --of which, however, my father had no knowledge. 

"Both are literary men of high reputation, " I answered quietly, though Ihad an instinctive feeling that my father would make sport of thisassertion. But experience had taught me that with him it was best tocall a spade a spade. 

"That accounts for it. I thought the gentleman in velveteen had a screwloose somewhere, " he said as he passed out of the room. 

"Well, Virginia, " exclaimed Aunt Helen when we were alone, "whom _have_you picked up now?"

"I don't understand you, " said I. 

"Who are those young men who were here just now? They are foreigners, ontheir own admission, --Bohemians. My own belief is that they have gypsyblood in their veins, for what can one know of the antecedents ofpersons who come from a small German principality? They don't even claimto be counts, and any one with the smallest pretext to respectability inthat part of the world is a count, at least. They look to me as if theyhad been on the stage, especially the one to whom you were talking. Iwill do him the justice to say he is a handsome wretch, but like allthose foreign adventurers he has a dissipated air. As for the other, heis simply commonplace and vulgar, with little upstart radical notions. "

I waited for her to finish before replying. "I have already said thatMr. Spence and Mr. Barr are both literary men of high standing. They areneither of them foreigners, but were born in this State. By 'Bohemian'Mr. Spence meant the literary and artistic fraternity in general, AuntHelen. He is a philosopher as well as a poet; and Mr. Barr paintspictures in addition to his other work. "

"But who are they? Where do they come from? It is all very well to saythey were born in this country. But who and what are their parents?Spence--Spence--I never heard the name in my life. There were some Barrswho used to live in the next street to us when your mother and I wereyoung; but they were all girls, and, as I remember them, ordinary. "

"When men have acquired fame, it is hardly necessary to inquire if theybelong to the best families, " I rejoined, borrowing a leaf from AuntAgnes's book. 

"It is one thing to admire the works of genius, and another to have ittrampoosing over your house. Your acquaintances are, I dare say, wellenough as poets and philosophers, but I don't see what that has to dowith you. You are neither a poet nor a philosopher, and you will flatterthem much more by buying their books than by asking them to five o'clocktea. I must say that, philosopher or no philosopher, the young man whowas talking with me has very strange ideas. Just think of his advocatingco-operative house-keeping, and marriages before a Justice of the Peace. I fancy too that he is lax in his religious opinions. If he is your ideaof a desirable acquaintance to invite to your house, I am sorry for it. You never got any such notions from my side of the family. "

"It is useless to talk with you if you go off at a tangent, Aunt Helen, "said I. "I am proud to call both those young men my friends, and theyare vastly superior in every way to nine tenths of those one meets insociety. Mr. Spence, whose ideas you think so peculiar, is one of theablest scientists in the country, and I am going to take lessons in hisphilosophy from one of his assistants. As I told you the other day, I amtired of frittering away my time in nonsense. "

"And as I told _you_ the other day, Virginia, go on as you have begun, and we shall hear of you presently on the stage. That Mr. Barr mightpass in a drawing-room on account of his picturesqueness, if he were tobrush his hair; but the other one is simply a gawk, to be plain. Scienceindeed! Don't come in a few weeks to ask me to believe that we are alldescended from monkeys, or any other stuff, for I sha'n't do it. That'swhat I call nonsense; and you will discover some day that most peoplewho have any self-respect are of my way of thinking. "

I had never known Aunt Helen to be so excited, but there was nothing tobe done. Society and etiquette were her household gods; and by ceasingto worship the same divinities I had drawn upon myself the full energyof her displeasure. Nothing could have offended her so much. To be oddor different from other people was in her estimation a cardinal sin;whereas I parted from her with a still firmer conviction that I hadchosen wisely. The calm unselfish wisdom and steadfastness of Mr. Spenceseemed more indisputable to me than ever; and in the way ofcompanionship, Paul Barr's gallantries and sallies were vastlypreferable to any drawing-room flirtation. 

It was only when I thought of my father that I felt any concern ordoubt. I knew that he had set his heart upon my devoting myself to thestudy of practical matters. He wished me to become cultivated, butscarcely in the direction I had chosen. What would he say if he knew ofmy determination; and was it filial and just to let him remain inignorance of it? Yet I reasoned that after all I had made no finaldecision. I was attracted, it is true, by what might be called avisionary theory; but when I had given the principles of moderationfurther thought, I might conclude not to devote myself to them. It wouldbe time enough later to speak of the subject. At present I was only toopoorly prepared to present the ideas of Mr. Spence in an intelligentmanner, and should probably prejudice my father against the wholesystem. 

However, I could not refrain from a few reflections on the apparenthostility of practical men to pure theory, which must after all be thebasis of all intelligent action. How much nobler to help to establishprinciples serviceable to humanity than to make later unconscious use ofthose same principles to advance one's own selfish interests! Why mustthere needs be mutual disdain and coolness between those who thought andthose who acted? It had been easy for me to perceive at a glance thatthere was likely to be but little mutual sympathy between my father andMr. Spence, and the consciousness grieved me. 

But I did not falter in my purpose. Mr. Fleisch called to see me thefollowing day and laid out an elaborate course of study. He was to cometwice a week to examine me and give me suggestions, but he said that myprogress was mainly dependent on my own exertions. I bought a number ofbooks of his selection, and tried to devote five hours each day tosystematic work. My tasks were largely of a philosophical character, but poetry and music of a restrained sort were also included in Mr. Fleisch's instruction; and he said that after the foundations were laid, I should be taught the dangers of extremes by studying examples of theovermuch and the undermuch. 

At last I was successful one day in finding Aunt Agnes at home, andalone. It was about a week after my visit from Mr. Spence. I wasdisturbed at seeing her brow contract at sight of me, but my worst fearswere realized when she said:--

"I do not wonder that you have preferred to keep away from me. "

"On the contrary, Aunt Agnes, I have called twice before, this week. "

"When you knew I was out, I dare say. "

There was no answering such logic as this. 

"I seem never to be able to satisfy you, " I said bravely. "I had come totell you that I am studying hard under the direction of Mr. Fleisch, afavorite pupil of Mr. Spence, and am doing all I can to improve myself. "

"Fiddlesticks! Tell _me_!"

"But, Aunt Agnes, it is so. "

"I have heard all about you. You can't tell me anything about thematter I don't know already. We shall hear next of your carrying yourhabit of flirting into the sanctuary itself. You might almost as wellcoquet with a minister of the holy Gospel as with him you have selectedto try your fascinations on. I might have guessed what would be theresult of introducing you to sober-minded people. It was none of mywork, thank Heaven! Lucretia Kingsley has herself to blame, for I heardher give you the invitation from her own lips. But I blush for you as myniece. No amount of proficiency or cleverness can be a palliation ofyour behavior. "

"I have been maligned, Aunt Agnes, " I cried with flashing eyes. "Someone has told you a pack of falsehoods. It is not true that I have beenflirting with anybody. I have given up everything of the kind, as I saidI should. Who has been accusing me? I insist on knowing who told you. "

"No matter who told me. My authority is of the best. "

"I suppose it was your friend Miss Kingsley. I half suspected that shewould misrepresent me in private. "

"You admit, then, that you are guilty?"

"I admit nothing. If, as your words seem to imply, Miss Kingsley says Iacted unbecomingly at her house, she does not speak the truth. She isjealous. The long and short of it is, Mr. Spence was polite to me, andthat made her angry. I believe she wishes to marry him herself, " I saidin the fulness of my anger. 

"Virginia! I am astonished at you. It will not mend matters to insultyour benefactors. What motive had Miss Kingsley, pray, in asking you toher house but kindness?"

"Pshaw!" I cried, now thoroughly roused. "She asked me because shethought I was fashionable, and because it would read well in thenewspaper that I had been at one of her tea-parties. She imagined I wasso silly and brainless that her friends would take no notice of me; andwhen it turned out that they did she lost her temper. "

"You have lost yours, Virginia. I presume you will tell me presentlythat Mr. Spence flirted with you. I never heard such nonsense in mylife, and wicked nonsense too; for you are doing your best to injure thecharacter of a young woman who is in every way your superior, and hashad none of your advantages. As I just said, I presume you will claimthat Mr. Spence flirted with you, and that he wrote to you first. "

"Wrote to me? He has never written to me; nor I to him, except to askhis advice about a teacher. "

"You admit so much?"

"Why shouldn't I? I was interested in his theories, and I applied to himas the most natural person to consult. "

"It is very easy to explain it away in that manner, but unfortunatelyfor you my informant adopted--"

"Why don't you say Miss Kingsley, and have done with it, Aunt Agnes?"

"Very well then, if you prefer, Miss Kingsley adopted a very differentstyle in speaking of you than you employ in speaking of her. She triedto spare you as much as possible, and said what she did only with greatreluctance. I could see that she was holding back, and was resolved notto tell the whole. 'Of course, ' she said, 'I know Miss Virginia did notmean to offend, and very likely in general society her littleindiscretions would have been quite proper; but at a purely intellectualgathering like ours, from which as you know all vanities are rigorouslyexcluded, it did seem to me unsympathetic of a new-comer to introducean element of coquetry. When I say that since then she has written notesto Mr. Spence, whose time is precious as gold, asking him to call uponher in a social way, you will I am sure, my dear Miss Harlan, excuse myspeaking. It is for her own good that I have ventured to do so, as aword from you would convince her of her thoughtlessness. '"

"The hypocrite!" I murmured, too indignant to restrain myself. 

"There you go again, vilifying her with abusive epithets when she hassimply done her duty as a friend. Contrast for instance your variousexpressions with hers. 'Jealous;' 'invited you to her house because youwere fashionable' (a most unwarranted assumption); 'a hypocrite;' and, worst of all, you accuse her of trying to win the affections of a manwhom she venerates as a master, and who though he has never taken thevow of celibacy is too much absorbed in the life-work he is pursuing togive a thought to marriage. And what does she say of you? She merelycalls it 'unsympathetic' of a new-comer to disturb the harmony ofsober-minded people by the introduction of coquetry. 'Unsympathetic'! IfI were to stigmatize such behavior, I should call it disgraceful. I wasmortified, Virginia, thoroughly mortified; and especially as Mr. Spencehad been here the day before, and spoken of you in terms that made mefeel really proud. As Miss Kingsley said, however, he is the last man inthe world to notice such a thing as coquetry. "

I made a mental interrogation point, but I did not dare to giveutterance to the heresy lest I should seem to be carrying out AuntAgnes's insinuation that I would next accuse Mr. Spence of flirting withme. I replied with as much quietness as I could at the moment command, --

"I can only repeat what I have already said. Miss Kingsley has slanderedme, whether intentionally or not I do not know. But her charge ofcoquetry is utterly without foundation. "

"Did you not make eyes at Mr. Barr, and give him a rose?" sheinterrupted. "You see I know all. "

"No, I did not, " I answered, flushing. "On the contrary, Mr. Barr mademe feel excessively uncomfortable during most of the evening by theabsurd compliments he paid me, and by the way in which he stared at me. As for the rose, I dropped it accidentally as I was getting into mycarriage, and I believe he picked it up. "

"Accidentally!" said Aunt Agnes with a sniff. "As my informant said, 'when a young woman flings herself at the head of a hot-souled poet, what is she to expect?' Human nature is human nature, and there are notmany men with the self-control of Mr. Spence. "

"Miss Kingsley seems to have given you a great deal of information, AuntAgnes. "

"You are mistaken again, as usual. The person who told me this is asober-minded woman of middle age, who could not have been influenced byjealousy. "

"Mrs. Marsh, I suppose. I might have known it, from her choicevocabulary. Talk of gossips, Aunt Agnes, I never heard a worse one inany drawing-room in the city. Who _is_ Mrs. Marsh?"

I was glowing with indignation again, and justly so as it seemed to me. I had been cruelly misconstrued, and my self-control on the occasion ofMiss Kingsley's tea had been wholly unappreciated. 

"Who is Mrs. Marsh? You may well ask who is Mrs. Marsh, after what youhave said about her. Gossip or no gossip, vocabulary or no vocabulary, Mrs. Marsh is a very deserving woman, who by her own unaided efforts hasrisen to the position she now occupies. How often shall I be obliged toimpress upon you that it is the spirit, not the letter, that is ofimportance? As secretary of the Society for the Practice of Moderation, Mrs. Marsh can afford to disregard the ill-natured sneers of those whomay have enjoyed greater advantages in early life than she. It is not bywholesale abuse of others, Virginia, that you will persuade me of yourinnocence. On your own showing, you have written to Mr. Spence, andmisconstrued Mr. Barr's poetic impetuosity as an attempt to flirt withyou. I do not desire to discuss the matter further. We shall soon knowwhether you are sincere or not in your professions of study. As I havetold you before, your future is in your own hands; but first andforemost you must rid yourself of this propensity to behave in a trivialmanner. "

I felt that silence would be the best palliative for my wounds; and sodiscouraged was I of being able to change Aunt Agnes's opinion, Ithought it a waste of breath at the moment even to mention Mrs. Marsh asmy authority for the statement that Miss Kingsley had a tender feelingfor Mr. Spence. 

V. 

A year passed without special incident, and yet certain things requireto be told so that the sequel may seem consistent. Contrary to AuntAgnes's insinuation, I proved sincere in my devotion to study. Mr. Fleisch came regularly twice a week, and during the summer monthswhen I was away from home his instruction was continued by means ofcorrespondence. I found him, as Mr. Spence had predicted, an admirableteacher. His work was everything to him, and he imbued me with hisability to look at our relations as strictly impersonal. He might havebeen a machine, so little was he susceptible to any mood of mine, --acharacteristic which I deemed more and more indispensable each day to aproper understanding between pupil and master. 

As a result of his teaching and my own industry, I acquired before manymonths an intimate knowledge of the views shared by those who calledthemselves Moderationists, and moreover without the slightest diminutionof my enthusiasm. I was able to converse intelligently with the mostproficient of the school, and there was little of the system that failedto commend itself to me as entitled to faith and support. I attendedmeetings and lectures in advocacy of its theories, and occasionally tookpart in debates on questions relating to the management of the Societyfor the Practice of Moderation, of which I was elected treasurer. Thusit happened that my name appeared in the newspapers as one of theleading spirits of the movement, and among my former acquaintances therewas a general impression that I had become very peculiar. My oldball-room rivals, who were for the most part waltzing as hard as ever, would stop me in the street and say, "Virginia dear, is it true you aregoing into a convent?" or, "What is this that I hear, Virginia, aboutyou being in favor of female suffrage? Do you really think women oughtto vote?" Once in a while some friend, who was either more accurate bynature or who really felt an interest in me, would hit closer to themark, and perhaps with a sigh express regret at not having the courageto become literary too. "But it does separate one so from otherpeople, --that is, people one knows; don't you think so dear?"

It certainly did. I was completely estranged from my old associations, and spent my time, when not employed in study, largely at the rooms ofour Society, where Mrs. Marsh presided as secretary. There werecountless circulars and pamphlets to be mailed, setting forth ourpurposes and needs. Mrs. Marsh, despite an inaccurate acquaintance withand an overweening curiosity regarding the doings of fashionable people, was a model of executive ability. With some one at hand to correct hergrammar and spelling, she could transact a greater amount of businessthan half-a-dozen ordinary women. In my zeal to see things properlydone, I constituted myself her assistant; and we managed together thewhole work of the Bureau, as Miss Kingsley liked to call our humblequarters. 

My relations with Miss Kingsley were outwardly very friendly. I hadthought it best upon reflection not to appear offended when we metagain, and she on her part greeted me with effusive warmth and a littledeprecatory look, as if to say, "You will excuse me, I am sure, for whatI said to your aunt. It was for your good, or I should never havespoken. " Subsequently, in our relations at the Bureau, she liked topatronize me slightly. She would come whisking into the rooms whereMrs. Marsh and I were hard at work, and putter about for a few moments, asking questions and giving us advice, and then whisk out again with anencouraging nod. She was apt to time her visits so as to meet Mr. Spence, who came regularly sometime during every forenoon, tosuperintend our labors. He stayed usually about half an hour; and fromthe first day I became connected with the Bureau I made a point to avoidhim as much as possible, --a course which seemed acceptable to him, forhe always addressed his business suggestions to Mrs. Marsh, and did notencourage me to converse with him. Once in a while, however, he wouldapproach me in a constrained fashion, and express satisfaction with thereports Mr. Fleisch made of my progress. It was through his silentagency also, I had no question, that I was appointed treasurer, and wasregarded as a prominent worker in the cause. With Miss Kingsley, on theother hand, he was easy and familiar. It was evident that he liked her, and he listened to her opinions; but I could never detect what seemed tome any signs of sentiment on his part in her regard. Miss Kingsley musthave thought differently, for on one or two occasions she was unable toresist the temptation, as they went out of the door together, oflooking back at me with an air of triumph. The more Mr. Spence seemed toavoid me, the kinder and more patronizing was her manner; and she so farevinced her friendship presently as to show me the manuscript of a novelwhich she had written, entitled "Moderation, " and which was dedicated"To him to whom I owe all that in me is of worth, --Charles LiversageSpence. " It was an attempt, as she explained to me, to return to therational style and improving tone of Jane Austen, whose novels weresound educators as well as sources of amusement. From Miss Kingsley'snatural fluency and sprightliness I expected something "racy, " to quotePaul Barr, and I was disappointed to find "Moderation" dull anddidactic. It was however heralded and published with a great flourish oftrumpets; and Mr. Spence wrote a review of it in one of the leadingnewspapers under the symbol XXX (a signature of his known only to theinitiated), in which he called attention to its exquisite moral tone, which had no counterpart in fiction since the writings of Miss Edgeworthwere on every parlor table. In conclusion he said: "Whatever the toocaptious critic may say of the dramatic interest of the story, it isindeed a triumph for a young writer, and that writer a woman, to embodyin her first novel opinions that will make the book of value to thestudent of psychology long after the craving of human nature forfictitious narrative has ceased to exist. "

My own opinion of the novel was reinforced by that of Paul Barr, whichprevented me from thinking, as I might otherwise have done, that I wasactuated by ill-nature in judging Miss Kingsley's book. After the firstphase of curiosity its popularity waned, and the author adopted thefashion of calling it an artistic success. But the complimentarycriticism of Mr. Spence gave me food for thought, and for the first timesuggested the idea of a possible feeling on his part for Miss Kingsleystronger than friendship. It interested me, and at the same time annoyedme a little. Why the latter I hardly knew, unless it were a convictionthat she was not good enough for him. But when I thought over theirdaily relations as constantly exhibited in my presence, my formeropinion that he had merely a brotherly affection for her returned. If hehad been misled to praise her book unduly, it was by his excessiveenthusiasm for his own doctrines presented therein, and not by the blindforce of love, --which conclusion was directly at variance with thetheory of Mrs. Marsh on the subject, who was perpetually referring tothe match between them as a foregone conclusion. 

Discreet as was my conduct in general during these twelve months, andearnestly as I sought to avoid in its mildest form what Aunt Agnescalled coquetry, I was not able to escape the importunities of Mr. Barr. Absorbed as I was in my work, and determined to consider all attentionsfrom my literary friends as mere meaningless gallantries, it was verydifficult to disregard the artist-poet's protestations of devotion: theyhad become little short of that. He was a constant visitor at the roomsof our Society, although his own principles were hostile to those weprofessed; and he would spend as much time as I would permit, lollingabout my desk and whispering all sorts of nonsense. He brought meflowers and fruit, and now and then some new publication, --not insufficient quantity to permit me to refuse them, but a single rose or apeach, or a tiny volume of verses. He sent me sonnets and madrigalsthrough the post without signature, though in his own handwriting, anddenied with asseverations their authorship when questioned. Besideshis black and his brown, he had a green velveteen coat, and adifferent-colored flowing tie for every day in the week. His habits werein complete conformity with his philosophy of extremes. He was apt totell me when he had been sitting up all night, whether in study or whathe called wassail; but I could always guess the fact from hisappearance. His method of work was equally irregular, and he lived fromhand to mouth. He would be idle as a forced peach on a hot-house wall(to use a simile of his own) for weeks at a time; and yet when he wasseized with a desire to work, it was no uncommon thing for him to paintor compose twenty-four hours at a sitting, and come to the Bureau or myhouse, almost before I was out of bed, with dishevelled raiment andbloodshot eyes, to exhibit or read to me the result of his industry. 

I had by this time ceased to regard him with any seriousness as aphilosopher. Indeed, it was difficult not to consider his vagariesself-indulgence; and from the veneration I conceived for him at thestart, I came to be his mentor in the end. I dared to remonstrate withhim on the irresponsible life he was leading, and sought to inculcate inhim the doctrine of moderation. I felt that I had an influence over him;and it was the consciousness of this that prompted me not to be toosevere in the matter of his attentions and little gifts. When I talkedto him, as I often did, on the error of his ways and the waste of histalents, he would listen to me with tears in his eyes, and promisebetter things for the future. He would become systematic and serious inhis habits and work. Without becoming a convert to moderation, he woulddevelop his own scheme of philosophy in an artistic spirit. There was alimit even to extremes, he said; and that limit scientificallydetermined would induce a perfect happiness. When he talked thus, I feltI could afford to be indifferent to the insinuations and playful salliesof Miss Kingsley and Mrs. Marsh. They might think what they chose of ourrelations. If by the exercise of sympathy and counsel I could regeneratea man of strong individuality and striking natural gifts from the thrallof self-indulgence, a fig for the idle voice of gossip!

Meanwhile, I grieve to say that my intimacy with Aunt Helen wasstrained. Many were the tears she shed over my degeneracy, and no wordsof mine could make her see other than a foolish waste of goldenopportunities in the course I was pursuing. This disturbed me greatly, for my attachment to her was very strong, and I knew she would have cutoff her right hand to serve me. Our interviews were largely lachrymoseon her part and morose on mine, after argument proved futile. She hadnone of Aunt Agnes's downrightness, but a no less degree of persistence. After many efforts, I succeeded in convincing her that my friends had noconnection with the stage, and I persuaded her to accompany me to one ofMr. Spence's lectures. It was the one on Overeating and Undereating, andthe most likely to be fully intelligible, I thought. But I caught hernapping before the end; and as an all-embracing condemnatory criticism, she cautioned me to beware of homeopathy!

With Aunt Agnes, on the other hand, my relations were more friendly thanthey had ever been before. Experience had taught me that longconversations with her were not advisable, but I was able to test thethermometer of her feelings toward me in other ways. She had begun tosend me books and pamphlets, relating to various abstract theories inwhich she was interested; and once or twice she read to me articles inmanuscript of her own composition, and asked my opinion of their merit. Occasionally, too, she paid a visit to the rooms of the Society; and Ishall never forget the expression of satisfaction that flickered overher severe face at seeing me, for the first time, at my desk. From thatday, a general softening of her attitude toward me began. 

But happy and absorbed as I was in this great interest, I was neverquite without a feeling that my father might not be pleased, did he knowof my fast-growing intention to devote the energies of my life to it. Hewas more busy than ever down town, and for weeks at a time would seemscarcely aware of my existence. His questions at dinner regarding mydoings were rarely more definite than to ask how I had spent the day, towhich any reply seemed to be satisfactory. I usually said that I hadbeen studying; and had it not been for his quiet habit of observation, with which I was now acquainted, I should have imagined that it went inat one ear and out at the other. I never volunteered to tell him thecharacter of my studies; but though he never made inquiries, I had asecret impression that he knew far more than was apparent of the use Imade of my time. Nevertheless, the year passed without his showing anysigns of disapproval. I was so bold even as to invite Paul Barr once ortwice to dinner, when I felt that he needed the moral tonic of aglimpse of home life to fortify his good resolutions. So, too, I did nothesitate to practise in my daily mode of living some of the doctrines towhich I held most firmly, --such as early hours of rising and going tobed, temperate diet and simplicity of raiment; but as it was just asincumbent upon me to avoid the other extreme, the changes were notsufficiently marked to excite attention. 

The traveller who looks back at night upon a highway sees a long trailof shadow, broken at recurring intervals by the blaze of lamps. Such isthe effect of life in retrospect. Much of that which we rememberconcerning the past is vague and dim, yet here and there along the roadsome incident stands out which explains and illumines what follows andprecedes. 

It is difficult for me to analyze more closely than I have done myfeelings and thoughts during the period in which I studied theprinciples of moderation. But the events of three days at its close areindelibly impressed upon my memory. For several weeks during the autumn, Paul Barr had been hard at work upon a picture in regard to which he hadseen fit to be mysterious, although he became enthusiastic as to itsmerits before it was nearly finished. No piece of painting that he hadever attempted was so satisfactory to him, he said, both in the way ofconception and performance. So confident was he of its excellence, thatI began at last to share his excitement, and expressed a wish to see themasterpiece. But he was resolute in his determination that no one shouldsee it until its completion, and least of all I. 

Curious as I felt concerning it, --for one could never be sure that PaulBarr was not a genius, --I was in no haste to have the picture finished, for the artist's own sake. So deep and breathless was his interest, thathe had become regular in his hours and habits. He seemed to realize thatthe best work required a steady hand and an unwearied eye. If I tooksome slight credit to myself for this change in his methods, it was notunnatural; and yet I was not so far elated as to feel wholly confidentit would last. When he had put the finishing touch to his wonderfulcreation, would he abstain from the dissipation and self-indulgentidleness that was apt to follow any concentration on his part? I likedto believe that this would be the case; and as I cherished the idea, itgrew almost into absolute faith. 

I have said that Aunt Agnes and I were on pleasant terms; but there wasone speck on the mirror of her serenity which threatened at times tomar the whole. It was my intimacy with Mr. Barr. Some one had informedher, --I have no doubt it was Miss Kingsley, --that he was much in mysociety, and that we behaved like lovers. I had learned by this time notto allow my awe for Aunt Agnes to prevent me from defending myself; butI found exculpation a difficult matter in this instance, on accountof the character of the other offender. She styled my attitudehypocritical, because I parleyed with the enemy. Even assuming thatthere was no flirtation between us, --of which she was by no meansconvinced, --what right, she asked, had I, as a neophyte of recentstanding, to be on terms of intimacy with the arch advocate of theschool of thought most opposed to that which I professed?

I mention this in order to explain why I had of late been more chary ofmy sympathy in my interviews with the artist, and had given him strictorders that he was not to send me any more fruit and flowers. Howevermuch I might desire his welfare, self-respect required that I should notlet our friendship become so conspicuous as to attract generalattention. It was shortly after I issued this mandate that he began thepicture to which I have referred; but the immediate result of my wordswas a fit of angry despondency. 

Two days before Christmas he came to me and said the picture would befinished and ready for exhibition on Christmas Eve, and that he wishedme to see it first of all. Would I come to his rooms on that afternoon?As he saw me hesitate, he clasped his hands with so piteous anexpression that I chose not to say no. Why not, after all, thought I. Itwas unconventional to be sure. But matrons were out of date andsuperfluous in the artistic world. Did not Miss Kingsley go about freelyto studios and wherever the needs of her profession called her? If shewere safe from familiarity, why should not I be? I had a strong beliefin the magic circle of respect which surrounds a thoroughly refinedwoman. If I refused the artist's request, I was certain to disappointhim sorely. It was a small enough favor, I argued, to grant to one whohad been striving bravely to overcome his evil nature at my instigation. 

Mr. Barr's studio was up seven flights of stairs in the French roof of abuilding which had no elevator, and had doubtless been chosen by him onaccount of cheapness and light. Breathless, I paused on the lastlanding on the afternoon of the day before Christmas, and in response tomy knock was greeted by the black beard and large eyes of the artistappearing round the edge of the door. As he threw it wide open he gave acry of pleasure, singing the while at the top of his lungs the air heplayed that evening at Miss Kingsley's when he flung himself down beforethe piano after tea. 

"At last, at last, my goddess! I have prayed for this hour, " he said, bowing low. 

I stopped short in the middle of the room. "If you do not wish me toleave you instantly, you must cease all such language and unseemlyconduct. I have come to see your picture, Mr. Barr. "

"I will. Believe me, I will. I will be quiet as a lamb, though I am sohappy I could dance a minuet with Satan and not tire. But I will obeyyou. Do not be uneasy. Sit here. No, here. The light is better. There itis. Look, finished! My masterpiece, my ideal! It is only to lift thatcurtain, and I shall be famous. "

Despite his words he was jumping about with nervous, excited gestures. Isat in the armchair he had indicated, and looked from him to the pictureon the easel over which a drapery was flung, and back again to him. Foran indefinable feeling of dread was coming over me, as I noted thedisordered dress and the bloodshot eyes of my strange host. He hadfailed, then, to keep his pledges; had yielded to temptation. Myhoped-for regeneration was a failure, and all was as it used to be withhim. But yet it might be overwork and the strain of a night withoutsleep that gave him such a dissipated aspect. I tried to think it wasso. Meanwhile he had seated himself at an old worn-out piano, andlooking across to me was pounding out bar after bar of passionate music. 

"Really, this is too much! I cannot stay and endure this absurdity, " Icried, and I walked to the door. 

But he darted at me and seized my hand with fierceness and the grip of avice, so that I shook with fear. 

"You shall not go, not until you have seen her, --her I adore. Sitthere!" he thundered; and then, with an apparent sense of his ownharshness, he fell on his knees before me and kissed my fingers withfeverish frenzy. "My queen! my own!" he cried. 

I was so frightened I could not speak. What was I to do? To scream wouldnot have availed me in that attic, --and yet I wonder now I did not tryto scream. I tore my hands away from him and sprang from my seat, he notseeking to restrain me, but still kneeling and gazing up at me with wildbut penitent eyes. 

"Open the door, sir, and let me go! That is the least return you canmake for your rudeness, " I said. 

"No, no, no!" he cried with a wail of grief. "I have insulted mygoddess. I have broken her heart. She will not speak to me. But look, look!" he said, darting again toward the canvas and throwing aside thedrapery. "She is here! I have her here forever. No one can rob me of hernow. "

Fancy my emotions. It was a portrait of myself!

I shall never forget the tipsy cunning of Paul Barr's expression, as hewatched the effect of his legerdemain. The portrait was excellent; itwas, indeed, a masterpiece. I was sufficiently in my senses toappreciate that, though my absorbing thought was how to get out of theroom. For some moments we each kept our pose, --I standing surveying thepicture, and he with his eyes bent upon me, leaning against the easelwhich was in the pathway to the door. 

Suddenly, and to my intense surprise, he pronounced my name, --

"Virginia!"

It was a whisper almost, and spoken as one might breathe the name of asaint. 

"Virginia!"

Then with a low cry he stepped forward a pace or two and dropped on hisknees again. 

"I love you, I adore you. I have broken your heart, my angel, but it waslove that forced me to it. Forgive me, and tell me if you can that thereis hope, --a shadow is enough. Hope that I may some day press you to thisbosom and call you mine, --mine for eternity! Virginia, hear me!--do notlook so cold and cruel; you are a stone, while I am burning! I haveloved you since the first moment I saw you. I wish my heart were dustfor you to trample on, if it may not beat forever close to yours. Withyou as my bride I could conquer worlds. I could become an Angelo, aRubens. Without you I shall die!"

He seized my hands again and covered them with kisses. 

"Mr. Barr, Mr. Barr! I cannot listen to you further. Let me go, --you aremad. "

"Yes, I am mad, --mad with love for you, sweet Virginia. "

I tried to speak calmly, yet decisively, though from fear and pity I wastrembling like a leaf. I told him that I could not grant what he asked. I loved him as a friend, as a brother almost, and would do anything toserve him but consent to become his wife. His studio was no place forsuch a conversation, I said. Let him come to my house, after he hadthought it over. He would agree then that he had been carried away bythe impulse of the moment, by the tension of his overstrained nerves, and that a marriage between us would be an absurdity. Were not ourtastes and habits totally unlike?

Perhaps these were no words to address to an overwrought soul, masteredby passion. But, as I have said, I was terrified and bewildered. Thestrong desire I felt to treat him with all the gentleness and tenderconsideration I could muster, must have been to some extent neutralizedby my anxiety to put an end to the interview. As I spoke, his eyesseemed to grow darker and to glow with fire, and the cunning, satyr-likeexpression I had noticed before to intensify. 

"Pardon me, " I said, "for the pain I cause you. My presence can onlyincrease your suffering. I will leave you, and if you wish, we willtalk of this to-morrow. "

"To-morrow!" he answered; "there may be no to-morrow. It is stillto-day! still to-day!" he repeated with a sort of chuckle. "I will liveto-day, though I may die to-morrow. My goddess, my queen is here, andlove--love--love!" With a bound he folded me in his huge arms andpressed my face against his lips three times in a mad embrace. 

"Coward! wretch!" I screamed; but I was powerless as a babe. 

He let me go. 

"I will not hurt you, my own true love. A kiss can do no harm. Oncemore!" and he threw his arms wide open for a fresh embrace. 

But another voice interrupted his purpose. "Coward! you shall not toucha hair of her head. "

It was Mr. Spence who spoke; we had not noticed the door open. He strodeforward and placed himself between me and the artist. On the thresholdstood Miss Kingsley, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as our eyesmet. I would gladly have given half my fortune to blot out the past fewminutes. 

"Is this the courtesy of Bohemia?" asked Mr. Spence, breaking thesilence that followed. He was pale, and his lips were set, and there hadnever seemed to me so little difference in stature between him and Mr. Barr. 

"It is love, " was the answer. "The rapture of those kisses will be on mylips to my dying day. " The artist began to troll the words of a mad songof his own composition I had heard before. 

"Paul Barr, though we have long differed on many subjects, we have beenfriends. But after what I have heard and seen to-day, we must meethenceforth as strangers, " said Mr. Spence, with a fire I had never knownhim display before. 

"I adore her, and I am human. See there!" he pointed to the portrait, which hitherto had escaped their attention. "I would give even that foranother kiss. "

At the sight of the picture Mr. Spence gave a start, for the likenesswas marvellous. As for Miss Kingsley, she whispered in my ear, --

"Did you sit for it, dear?"

"No, I did not, " I answered. 

"Detestable philosophy!" continued Mr. Spence, looking from the canvasto the artist. "There was the making of a man in you, --this portraitshows it. But it is too late. The brute is rampant, and genius is nomore. "

"She could have moulded me in her hands like clay, " said Paul Barr. Icould not help feeling touched by the despair in his voice. 

"How distinctly piteous!" murmured Miss Kingsley. 

"I have no more to say. You have heard my decision, Paul Barr. "

Mr. Spence seemed greatly moved and excited. I could see him tremble. Itwas very bitter to me to feel that on my account friends of a lifetimewere to be separated. The big artist pulled at his beard, and withanother of his faun-like looks, exclaimed, --

"I understand. You want her for yourself. But you cannot rob me of thosekisses, ha! ha! They shall lie in the grave with me, and I shall stillsmile. "

Mr. Spence grew paler yet. He seemed about to speak, but controllinghimself by an effort turned to leave the room, motioning us to precedehim. 

"How distinctly piteous!" repeated Miss Kingsley, as we went downstairs. "He acted shamefully, of course, and there is no excuse for his conduct. But though it is impossible to justify him, I can pity him, can't you?His nature is so impressionable; and when he is interested in anythingthere is no half way with him: he wants the whole or nothing. If youwill excuse my saying so, several of us have been afraid of something ofthis sort. I wanted to warn you; but I said to myself, 'It may beVirginia really likes him, ' so I decided not to speak. If I had done so, all this might have been prevented, for it was very evident to the restof us that he was desperately in love with you. And by such a man, ofcourse the very smallest marks of favor are construed as moresignificant than open encouragement would be by a less poetictemperament. I have no doubt the poor fellow wears over his heart everyrose-bud you ever gave him, and knows by rote every word of sympathy youever said to him. And then that portrait, --what volumes it tells ofitself! Fancy that ardent soul toiling over the canvas to reproduce frommemory your image (you tell me you did not sit to him), and when themasterpiece of his life was finished, inviting you to his studio (as Isuppose he did), and then in a moment of deep and passionate lovecasting himself at your feet--and--and forgetting himself! Oh, Virginia, there is something exquisitely pathetic in the thought! But howfortunate too for you that we arrived when we did! In his sober sensesPaul Barr would rather die than injure a hair of your head; but none ofus, however self-reliant, is free from dread in the presence of a manwho has been over-indulging in stimulants, even though sure of hisaffection. My poor dear, how you must have suffered! What will your AuntAgnes say? It was only two days ago she said to me she hoped the affairwas at an end. I told her then that one can never be sure of athoroughly Bohemian nature; it is liable to burst into flame at themoment one least expects it. The result shows the correctness of myprediction. Poor Mr. Barr! what will become of him I wonder? I only hopehe will not attempt his own life, --that would be worse than anything. "

Neither Mr. Spence nor I had spoken as she rattled on in this manner, going down the long flights of stairs to the street. There was justenough of truth in her remarks to make my frame of mind still morewretched, and I could barely refrain from requesting her to keep still. Mr. Spence was evidently much disturbed by what had occurred. Theexpression of his face showed that he was under the influence ofviolent emotions. Once or twice, too, I saw him glance almostimpatiently at Miss Kingsley, as if her prattle annoyed him. But she wasso brimming over with volubility as to be blind to everything but thefancies she saw fit to evoke in regard to the scene she had justwitnessed. 

When, however, we reached a crossing of streets where her way separatedfrom mine, Mr. Spence said, in a tone that for him was abrupt, "I shallsee Miss Harlan home. "

Miss Kingsley held my hand for a parting shot. "You must not think meunsympathetic, dear, because I feel sorry for poor Paul Barr. I knew himbefore you did, you know; and at one time we were quite as intimate, though in a different way. If you feel faint, as I should think you mustafter such a dreadful experience, why don't you stop at an apothecary'sand get some salts? I always intend to carry salts with me; they are soconvenient on an occasion of this sort. I do hope you will feel betterto-morrow, dear. I shall call the first thing in the morning to inquireabout you. Good-night. "

For some minutes Mr. Spence and I remained silent. But now that MissKingsley was gone I felt an impulse to thank him, and to explain, sofar as was possible, my presence at the studio. 

"Believe me, Mr. Spence, I am very grateful to you for your aid, " Ibegan. "It was very inconsiderate and imprudent of me to go there alone;but he was so anxious for me to see the picture before any one else, that I was foolish enough to consider it allowable. I had no idea thatit was a portrait of me, and none that he cared for me in the way itseems he does. I have tried to be kind to him, for I felt he was lonely, and might be saved from excesses by a sympathetic influence. But I seemy mistake now. I ought to have known. "

An indefinable wish that Mr. Spence should know the exact truth loosenedmy tongue. 

"I understand--I understand perfectly, " he said in an emotional tone. "It is I that am to blame. I might have prevented it, " he added, asthough speaking to himself. 

Surprise prevented me from saying more, for I could not see how Mr. Spence was in any way responsible. Nor did he, on his part, continue theconversation. In five minutes we were at my door. 

"Will you not come in, Mr. Spence?"

"No, not to-night. " He paused an instant. "At what hour are you likelyto be at home and disengaged to-morrow?" he asked with suddenness. 

"To-morrow? At almost any time. Shall we say four?"

Mr. Spence bowed by way of acquiescence. He seemed so stiff that Ifeared he was offended with me. But if so, why did he wish to cometo-morrow?

"Before you go, you must let me thank you once more for having saved mefrom a very awkward predicament, " I said, holding out my hand. "Whatshould I have done if you had not arrived?" I shuddered involuntarily. 

"Poor girl, how you must have suffered!" he exclaimed in a voice full offeeling. Then he turned abruptly and left me. 

VI. 

As soon as I was safe at home, a terrible reaction followed. I went tobed prostrated physically, and sick at heart. True as it doubtless wasthat Paul Barr would never voluntarily have insulted me, I haddeliberately exposed myself to the tipsy eccentricities of a man whosehabits were not unknown. Might I not also have discovered, if I had beenwholly candid with myself, that there was genuine feeling in the wordsof devotion he had so frequently whispered to me, and that under theextravagance of his behavior there lurked a vein of real sentiment? Somuch is apparent and stands out in another light when one looksback instead of forward! But this much was true at least, --I wasdisillusioned forever of the hope of successfully proselytizing Bohemiaunder the guise of sympathy. Mingled with the bitter tears of regret forthe suffering of which I had been the cause were resolves thathenceforth I would not sneer at conventionality and custom. Howevermuch I might be devoted to thought and study, I would practise theordinary precautions of my sex, and recognize the uses of matrons. 

The next day was Christmas, and before I returned from church MissKingsley had called. There was a letter from Paul Barr awaiting me, --andsuch a letter! In it humiliation, despair, poetry, and passion wereintermingled. Tears had blurred the pages, and I wept in turn as I readthe pitiful sentences. He could not hope for pardon, he said, but heshould never cease to love. He wished to die. What would be fame unlessshared with the idol of his soul? Existence was for him henceforth adreary waste; and yet his only fault had been that in the ecstasy ofheaven-sent passion he had over-leaped the bounds imposed by humanpettiness. 

As I read on, his burning words seemed almost intended as a defence. Hehad outraged my feelings, and for that he was to-day suffering exquisitetorture, he said; but in the next paragraph he railed against the socialprejudices of the age and the luke-warm character of contemporary love. In another century, he prophesied, the artificial barriers imposed by anarrow and fast-rotting civilization would be swept away by the mightywave of passion which, pent up in the bosoms of strong men through ascore of generations, was about to inundate the world. Under the impulseof this idea, the closing portions of his twelve-paged letter became afierce tirade against the existing state of society; but the lastsentence was so astonishing to me individually, that I blushed with theacuteness of my feelings. "Believing as I do, " he wrote, "in theexpansion and overflow of the human soul, I would fain have saved youfrom the cramped and bloodless nature to which you are about to allyyourself in preference to mine. He has robbed me of you, and therebybroken the last tie which held together our conflicting dispositions. With him you can never be supremely happy or supremely miserable, --whichseems to me a lot so wretched that my heart, though heavy with theanguish of its own sorrow, is wrung more with pity than with pain. "

His meaning was obvious, and I was still sitting with this strangeepistle in my lap when Mr. Spence arrived. It would be affectation tosay I was greatly surprised, when, after a few moments, he made to me aconfession of his love. From his words of the previous evening, from ahost of little indications which they had recalled to me, and finallyfrom the jealous suspicions of the unhappy artist, I was not whollyunprepared for this result. There was nothing in the manner of hisdeclaration that calls for mention. It was, as he said, a confessionlong deferred and struggled against, but he had been mastered at last bya power stronger than himself. He had come, he said, to make thisacknowledgment of his feelings, no matter what might be the result; forthere was something he must ask me to listen to, which it would beneedful that I should know before he could dare to ask me to become hiswife, or I should be able to answer. 

I felt I knew what he was about to say, and was not mistaken. Thequestion with most young people, he said, was how to find the means uponwhich to marry; but in his case those means were already provided, and adifficulty of a precisely opposite character stood between him and me. Imust have perceived by this time his intense devotion to the system ofphilosophy of which he was the chief advocate. He had sacrificedeverything in life to that one end, and he was prepared to do so so longas he was spared to labor. To practise in every way, so far as waspossible, the principles he professed was the only escape, in hisopinion, from that worst stigma of would-be-reformers, --hypocrisy. Amongthe leading obstacles, in his judgment, to a well-ordered life was theaccumulation of property beyond enough to satisfy the common needs andcomforts of life. He had taken the vow of approximate poverty, --not theextreme obligation of the clerical orders, but a limited, moderate viewin accordance with the views just expressed. In seeking a partner to aidhim with her support and sympathy in the great up-hill struggle to whichhe had consecrated his powers, he had wished to make choice of a womanwith but small means, if any; but fate had willed otherwise. Oncealready--he said that he desired to conceal nothing--he had offeredhimself to a young lady of large property, for whom he felt a deepattachment. He had asked her, as he was about to ask me, to give herselfto him in return for his love, without her fortune. With that she wasfree to do what she wished; it would be easy to dispose of it. Afterdebate she refused him. This was six years ago; and until he saw me nothought of love had refreshed his heart. On that night at MissKingsley's, when he saw me for the first time and before he knew of myfather's wealth, he loved me, he said, almost without knowing it; butfrom the moment of hearing the words that warned him of the barrierbetween us, he had striven to drive my image from his thoughts. Eversince, with all the might and resolution of which he was capable, he hadstruggled against his love, but in vain. He had tried to avoid mypresence; he had resisted the temptation to become my teacher at thetime I consulted him on the subject; and subsequently, when we werebrought into constant contact at the rooms of the society, he hadoffended his own sense of politeness by the reserve of his behaviortoward me. But, despite all this, he had felt the ground graduallyslipping from beneath his feet. A chance look or smile nullified in aninstant the self-denial of weeks. He had been many times already on theverge of an avowal. He had seen and heard from others of the intimacybetween Mr. Barr and me, and been tortured by the pangs of jealousy. Butthe events of yesterday had made it impossible for him to remain silentany longer. He loved me with all the fervor of his heart, and it wasvain for him to deny it. 

He paused, but I remained silent. Spoken in his soft melodious voice hiswords seemed to soothe me, by way of contrast to the storm of passion Ihad listened to so recently. I did not try to think. I felt that he hadnot finished, and I wished to hear him to the end. Perhaps I wasconscious, too, that it would be impossible for me to come to a decisionon the spot. 

One circumstance, he continued, had given him hope that I might feelready to make the sacrifice he asked, provided that I returned hislove, --and that was the earnest spirit of interest I had shown in thework he had undertaken. There was no one among his followers who seemedso completely zealous, and who had so unreservedly labored for the causeof Moderation, as I. If, then, my heart by chance were interested in thefounder as well as in the system, it might seem no very serious matterto disclaim the wealth I should inherit from my father. It appeared tohim that a nature like mine might find a higher and more entirehappiness in the pursuit of ideal truth than in the enjoyment of anexcess of money contrary to the whispers of a sensitive conscience. Andif at the same time this renunciation of that which less enlightenedsouls esteemed as a chief good should be abetted by the sympathy of acompanion soul, what bliss might not be in store for two lives so weddedto progress and to love!

Such was the substance of Mr. Spence's communication; and when heceased, my feelings were still so doubtful that I sat looking into spaceas though to find counsel elsewhere than from my own heart. He hadspoken, --deemed it only right to speak, he said, --before closing, of thecriticism to which so unusual an act would expose me. I should be calledeccentric, and doubtless by many crazy; and the terms of contempt andridicule already cast at him would be visited, in equal degree, upon hiswife. It was this idea of martyrdom, joined to the deep interest I hadin the doctrines of Moderation, that now took possession of my fancy andmade me incline to accede to his request. Not that I sought ostracismand abuse, --far from it; the very mention of these things oppressed mewith dread. But there was to me an inspiring sense of nobility in thethought of a man giving up his life to the prosecution of a great truthindifferent to scoffs and sneers, that made the blood course moreswiftly through my veins. If such a one could be made happier, and hispower of usefulness increased by any act of mine, no sacrifice seemedtoo large. For what was I, or what was the value of anything I might do, compared with the progress of humanity as a whole? I could not give himlove, perhaps, and the freshness of a young heart; but sympathy andencouragement and the co-operation of a mind deeply interested in thecause with which he was identified, might do much to make the strugglemore easy and success speedier. Was I likely ever to meet with any onemore congenial? What better use could I make of my life?

These thoughts came to me not only then, but afterwards when Mr. Spencehad gone and I was left alone to make up my mind. I had told him that hemust give me time; it was impossible for me to decide at the moment. What he had said was so bewildering, and the condition of any possiblemarriage between us of so serious a character, that I was at a loss foran answer. But I warned him not to feel too much encouragement because Idid not give him an immediate reply; the chances were more than likelythat upon reflection I should feel what he asked to be impossible. "Irespect you thoroughly, Mr. Spence, and I am much interested in yourwork; but I do not think I should ever love you as you would wish. Ifeel quite sure of it; but if you are disposed to let me think it overinstead of giving you at once an unfavorable reply, I am willing to doso. "

Both my aunts dined with us, it being Christmas day, and directly uponher arrival Aunt Helen remarked upon my paleness. It was an unusuallysilent meal for a Christmas gathering. My father, as I remembered later, seemed absorbed and dull. Aunt Agnes had shown me by a glance that theevents of the previous day were not unknown to her. She sat glum andstatuesque; but I did not attempt either to brave or to mollify herdispleasure, for I knew that compared with the secret in my possession, the wretched affair with Paul Barr would seem to her a mere trifle. Iwondered, however, what she would think of such a match. How surprisedshe would be, and how disappointed probably in Mr. Spence!--for I hadlittle question that she regarded him as too much engrossed in his workever to think of marriage. Indeed, she had said as much to me when Ispoke of Miss Kingsley in that connection. Poor Miss Kingsley! it wouldbe a cruel, bitter blow to her. I believed her to be in love with Mr. Spence, so far as it was possible for any woman to be interested in aman who had not made her an offer; and with the pardonable sense oftriumph I experienced was mingled some pity. She was the first to detectthe infatuation I had awakened in him, but his subsequent reserve hadalmost lulled her jealousy to sleep. I knew in advance what Aunt Helenwould think. She would regard my conduct as little short of madness, andall sympathy between us would be at an end forever. 

But it was my father's opinion on the subject that I most feared toface. I could not doubt what his verdict would be. It was the ambitionof his later life to see me use well the fortune he had accumulated. Bythe marriage I was contemplating I should disappoint these expectations, for I could not suppose he would regard as a good use of the money adisclaimer of the fortune he wished to leave me. It was really betweenhim and Mr. Spence that I must decide. 

This was what presented itself to me clearly, as my father and I sattogether in the library after my aunts had gone. It was past midnight, and yet neither of us had thought apparently of going to bed. He wassmoking, and like myself busy with his own reflections. It seemed to methat he looked tired and worn. I had observed it several times of late. Was I certain that I was right in the choice I was tempted to make? Butif I did not marry Mr. Spence, what was the prospect before me? What didmy father wish me to do with his money?

As though he understood my silent question, he turned to me suddenly andsaid, --

"As you may remember, Virginia, I told you--it must be more than twoyears ago, now--that I was a very rich man. The same is true to-day, though, owing to the severe depression from which all classes ofproperty have suffered during that period, I am no longer as wealthy asI was. Indeed, it has been only by unflagging attention and care that Ihave been able to avoid very serious losses. But let that pass. Confidence is restored, and the worst is over. My affairs are in a shapenow where further depreciation is well-nigh impossible, and you willhave all the money that you can possibly need when I am gone. "

He paused a moment, and I hastened to express my concern that he hadbeen worried. 

"That is all done with now, I hope. I only mentioned it in order thatyou should know what you have to expect, --and because I have beenmaking up my accounts for the first of the year. No one can tell whatanother year may bring forth. I am not so strong as I was, I think. "

He spoke without emotion; but there was something in his tone thatprompted me to go to him, and kneeling by his side to take his hand inmine. 

"Are you not well, father?"

"Oh, yes. But when a man has worked hard all his days and gets to besixty-five years old, the machine does not run so smoothly as it used. That is all. Some day it will stop all of a sudden, just as it did in myfather's case. He was worn out when he died; and that is what I shallbe. In this country, we most of us have only time to get together ourmillions and die. " He spoke with a smile, and gently stroked my hair. "But we expect our children to make a good use of the leisure we havewon for them. You begin where I leave off, Virginia. I had hoped to beable to see a great deal of you during the last few years, but just atthe moment when I was about to lay aside the harness came the period ofdepression. It is very difficult, in this country, for parents to knowtheir children intimately. Neither party has time for the operation. You have your interests, as well as I; and what is more, I scarcely knowwhat they are. I am not complaining; I am merely stating facts. If mylife is spared a few years longer, we will try to change all that. Before I die I should like to see you happily married to some one who isworthy of you. Nothing ever gave me so much pain as to see you suffer atthe time that fellow deceived you, --nothing at least except the thoughtof your becoming his wife. But that is past, thank Heaven! and I think Iam right in saying that you have forgotten him long since. "

He talked in a half soliloquizing fashion, in short, deliberatesentences, and looked up to me as he finished, for a confirmation of hisopinion. 

"A woman never forgets, father. But I am very glad you saved me frommarrying him. "

"Yes, yes, it would have been madness, " he replied eagerly. "I could nothave endured the thought of that good-for-nothing squandering myproperty. I should never have relented, and I should have been in mygrave before this. But let by-gones be by-gones. To-day you are olderand wiser, and I have confidence that you will keep the credit of ourname untarnished. It has taken three generations of honest men toaccumulate the fortune you will inherit, " he added proudly. 

"But what do you wish me to do with it, father?"

"That is for you to decide when I am gone. I could tell you how to makemoney, and how to keep it, perhaps; but how to spend it wisely requiresa different sort of talent than I possess. I have told you, from thefirst, that it was to be your life-work. Busy as I have been, I havetried to place the means of understanding the commercial value of moneyin your way, so that you might not be wholly ignorant when the time cameto act. "

"And it would be a bitter disappointment to you, then, if I were to giveit all up?"

"Give it up?" he glanced at me with a comical expression, as though Ihad said something preposterous. "You couldn't give it up if you wantedto. It will come to you by my will. I shall leave it all in your hands. "

For a few moments I did not reply. Then I turned to him and said:--

"You were speaking just now of wishing to see me happily married, andyou referred to Mr. Dale. "

"Well?"

"Don't be concerned, father. It is not of him I wish to speak, except tosay that though I have been very grateful he is not my husband, I do notbelieve I shall ever care for anybody else in the same way. But I havehad, this very day, an offer of marriage from a man who is in everysense worthy of me. Indeed, I am not worthy of him. "

"Of whom are you speaking?"

"Of Mr. Spence, father. "

"Spence? I do not recall the name. "

"You have met him only once, I think. He came to the house oneafternoon, about a year ago, with that Mr. Barr who dines heresometimes. "

"Oh!"

I cannot give a precise idea of that ejaculation. It was a strangemixture of pleasantry and consternation. 

"He is by profession a poet, --and a philosopher. His writings are highlythought of among literary people, and he is an intimate friend of AuntAgnes, " I said quietly. 

"What answer did you give him?" asked my father presently, with a wearyair. He leaned his head on his hand, and listened intently andanxiously. 

"I told him I would think the matter over, " I replied. 

"He is not the husband I would have chosen for you, Virginia, " he said, after a silence. "But you must suit yourself. Now that you recall him tome, I know who this Mr. Spence is. I have seen his name in thenewspapers, and a few weeks ago I remember he delivered a lecture beforethe Thursday Evening Club. It was a visionary, unpractical address, Ithought. Several members spoke to me of it as such. But there were oneor two enthusiasts--as there are everywhere--who extolled it as a marvelof originality and cleverness. Are you sure of his habits?"

"His habits ought to be good, for he is the advocate of the theory ofModeration. It is to that he devotes the greater part of his time. Yes, father, I am sure of them. "

"I remember now, --Moderation. That was what he talked about. He is oneof your so-called reformers. He gets hold of an idea and tries to fitthe world to it. And you say you wish to marry him, Virginia?"

"I have not said so. I don't know. "

"If you take my advice, you will not. I know nothing further of him thanyou have told me. The better philosopher a man is, the worse husband heis likely to make. Has he anything to live upon?"

"Yes; enough to support us comfortably, I believe. In fact, he does notwish me to take any money from you. "

"That shows him a more independent minded fellow than I supposed. Humph!One literary woman in the family ought to be enough. Still, the greatthing is that you should be suited. We are not all cut after the samepattern, and if you have a fancy for a husband of that type, I shall notstand in the way. I interfered once, but that was a very differentmatter. Satisfy me that there is nothing objectionable against this Mr. Spence, and if you wish to marry him I shall not offer seriousopposition. It is all nonsense about your not being able to care foranybody. If you like a man well enough to become his wife, the rest willfollow. I should be glad to see you married. "

"I like Mr. Spence very much; but it is his theory of Moderation thatinterests me even more than himself, " I answered, uncertain how to leadup to the condition of our marriage, which I knew now would irritate myfather greatly. He had received the news of Mr. Spence's offer muchmore favorably than I expected. It was evident he wished me to marrysome one. 

"As you have said, father, I have interests of my own of which you donot know. I have given five hours almost every day during the past yearto the study of the principles of this philosophy. I have found my fieldof usefulness there, it seems to me. By continuing this work andbecoming the wife of Mr. Spence, I feel that I shall be doing more goodin the world than I could in any other way. If you ask me if I love Mr. Spence, candor compels me to say that I do not. If you ask if I amparticularly happy at the prospect of marrying him, I must say that I amnot. But it seems to me the best chance that is likely to offer. Irespect him thoroughly, and, as you say, the rest may follow. A lifedevoted to a noble theory is better suited to my tastes and capacitiesthan the control of a large fortune. "

"You are a little morbid, Virginia, " he interrupted. "My originalimpression is confirmed. This is no match for you. I warn you againstthe danger of becoming addicted to _fads_ and _isms_. Your Aunt Agneshas made herself ridiculous and alienated all her friends by just such acourse. I have not a word to say against a thorough education, as youmust well know; but when a woman begins to talk about devoting her lifeto the principles of philosophy, 'Look out!' say I. It is not natural. She needs a new bonnet, and a few balls and parties. But even supposingyou marry this Socrates and become as learned as he, how is thatinconsistent with taking care of your fortune?"

"I thought I told you, father, " I said. 

"Told me what?"

"That Mr. Spence objected to my fortune. "

"Objected, did he? How is he to help himself? Besides, the money is mineuntil I am dead. If he is so infernally proud, he needn't touch any ofit until then. I fancy he might get tired of waiting. "

"You don't understand, father. Mr. Spence wants me to agree never totouch any of it. He doesn't think it right for people to keep more thana certain amount, just enough to provide for their actual needs. It isone of the principles he believes in. It is a part of his system. "

"Principles! System! Is the girl crazy?"

"It is opposed to all your ideas, I know, " I exclaimed earnestly, determined now that I had entered on the matter to dispute it withvigor. "But are you sure that you are in the right? What is the use ofso much money to a woman? You want me to make the most of the fortune ithas taken you all your life to get together. Is it not possible that inrenouncing it I should be doing that? New ideas have to encounteropposition, but they are not all to be presumed unsound on that account. There may be more sense in those of Mr. Spence than you suppose. Bysetting this example of moderation, I may be able to give an impetus totruth that will be of real service to mankind. Besides, women aredifferent from men, father. They find more comfort and happiness indevotion to something like this than in the practical details of life. Ihave had some experience. I have seen society, and know the weariness ofa merely social existence. As I have already told you, I believe Ishould be more content with Mr. Spence than with any one else. I needsympathy and an interest. I _am_ morbid, perhaps; but there is everychance of my becoming more so unless you let me have my way in thismatter. Leave your money to some deserving charity or college, father, and let me marry Mr. Spence. "

"Deserving charity or college! That from the lips of my own daughter! Ihave wanted to interrupt you a dozen times to tell you how foolish andsenseless is the rubbish you were talking. And now that I have heard youto the end, I am speechless. You are crazy! I repeat it, crazy! You arefit only for a convent or a lunatic asylum. I had better find anotherheir. "

He covered his face with his hands, and I could see his whole formtremble. 

"Father, " I cried, "if I were only sure that you are not mistaken!"

We sat without another word being spoken for many minutes. At last helay back in his chair with the weary air intensified which I had noticedwhen I told him of Mr. Spence's offer, and said in a tone in harmonywith that, --

"You have been brought up, Virginia, like all American girls, to haveyour own way. I have given you every indulgence and liberty. Yoursmallest wish has been regarded. If I could wipe out the past and beginanew, I feel that I should act very differently. I should wield a rod ofiron, and teach my own flesh and blood to obey by saying, 'Do this!' and'You shall not do that!' The result could be no worse than it has beenunder the other system. Is the judgment of the new generation soinfallible, " he continued, "that it can afford to dispense withobedience and filial respect altogether? You have had one lessonalready, Virginia, but you have failed to profit by it. When thatfortune-hunting, idle dandy was whispering his pretty speeches in yourear, was it your own good sense that saved you from a miserablealliance? No; if I had not for once in my life stepped in and said, 'Youdo this thing at your own peril, ' and proved to you the paltry soul ofthe fellow, what would you be to-day? Broken-hearted and old before yourtime. But that was when you were almost a child, and without experience. I was made very unhappy, but I said to myself, 'She will grow wiser asshe grows older. ' And I thought you had. In the multitude of my businesscares I have merely had time to observe you in a general way. But Isupposed the serious and absorbed air which your face has worn came fromthe interest of your studies, and that those studies were fitting youfor the work I had planned for you. I wish now that you had nevertouched a book in your life. Better in my opinion to be the carelessbutterfly of society than the fanatic. I never expected to live to seemy only child so blind to common-sense as to wish to follow such amonstrous theory as you have described. Money! Why, it is the power andpossibility of the world. But what good are words? If you cannot see thefolly and unsoundness of it at a glance, it is useless for me to talk. Go your own ways. Marry whom you like. Not a dollar of my money--"

He stopped as he realized the futility of his threat, and covered hisface again with his hands. 

Looking back over many years, it seems to me at times incredible that Ishould have held out so long against such entreaty and distress; but itis to be said on the other hand that my whole future happiness wasinvolved in the decision of the question. My natural obstinacy haddeepened as I listened to his words, and had tended to counteract theaffection and pity I felt for him. 

"If I were only sure that you are right!" I repeated. "What you sayabout my education is perfectly true. I _have_ been brought up to havemy own way, but also, father, to have no counsel but my own. If so muchfreedom has been given me, was it not with the idea of teaching me tomake up my own mind about things? And if I have made up my mind, and Ifeel my conscience urge me to take a step which involves my happinessfor the rest of my life, why is it unfilial of me to follow my ownjudgment? I have been alone, and thrown upon my own responsibility, eversince I was a child. I am not complaining. I have had no mother; youhave been busy down-town, and my aunts never agree in their advice. Ihave tried to think for myself. I have chosen an interest in life towhich I am ready to devote my best energies, and in order to do so morecompletely should, if you did not forbid, marry a man who is in everyway my superior, and whom I thoroughly respect. I am willing to givethis all up to please you. But I do not mean, father, that I think youare in the right. I am no longer the child I was when I wished todisobey you before. Then I refused to yield, until you convinced me thatI was wrong. To-day I am prepared to sacrifice my own wishes for yoursake, but I remain unconvinced. I will write to Mr. Spence to-night, andtell him that I cannot be his wife. I will resign my position assecretary of his Society, and give up what you call _fads_ and _isms_. Only I shall expect for the future, father, that you will tell meprecisely what you wish me to do, and let me do it. You must not depriveme of my liberty of choice, and then treat me just as if I were free. Do with me what you will. Marry me to whom you please. I willobey, --implicitly, unhesitatingly. Only take away from me theresponsibility once and for all. I am weary of it. "

I had spoken with anger and excitement. My nerves were all unstrung bythe events of the past two days; and as I finished, my tears burstforth. I wept with passionate sobs. My father made no effort to comfortme. He sat with his chin resting on his breast, weary and sad. 

"I did not mean to be disrespectful, " I murmured at last. "I am willingto do all that you desire. "

"You have said that you do not love this man, Virginia. "

"I love him as much as I shall ever love any one else, " I answered. 

"I accept your sacrifice, my child. Some day you will thank me. Butwrite to-night. I shall sleep better if I feel that it is done. Promiseme, " he added, looking at me with a strange eagerness that waspathetic, and made the tears return to my eyes, but this time out oftenderness, --"promise me that whatever happens, you will accept thetrust I am going to leave you. "

I ran to his side, and kneeling, raised my eyes to his, --"Forgive me, father! I promise faithfully. "

Only a few words more need to be said concerning this phase of my life. That night I wrote to Mr. Spence. Gratitude and friendship will not makeup for the absence of love, but whatever there can be of consolation inthese substitutes I sent to him. Why was it that as I penned the lineswhich were to disappoint his hopes, I was vaguely conscious that myinterest in his theories was already less? So difficult is it in life todetermine precisely how far our beliefs are decided by our associations!But it is not to be supposed that because I admit this after the lapseof years, the consciousness of which I speak was at that time more thana secret one, which I shrank from confessing even to myself. Genuinewere the tears I shed in private for many days. My life seemed to me ablank, and I had lost the motive of action. For allowing my father to beright, and the principles advocated by Mr. Spence to be monstrous andabsurd, I had been too intimately connected with the system not to feela great void in my existence at severing my relations with it. What wasto take its place?

I had to undergo, moreover, one or two disagreeable interviews with myAunt Agnes before the matter was finally settled. In the intensity ofhis disappointment, Mr. Spence applied to her and asked her to endeavorto alter my resolution. She sent for me, and though she did not disguiseher surprise that her favorite should wish to marry at all, she wasunequivocal in the expression of her opinion that I should never getsuch another chance. As I remained obdurate, she accused me of adeliberate attempt to trifle with his affections. I had already ruinedthe life of one man of genius, she said, who though a wanderer from theright path might reasonably have become a noble worker but for myinfluence; and now I was about to blight the happiness of one whoseequal was to be found only a few times in a century. She even went to myfather, and represented to him the folly I would commit in refusing suchan offer. I was not present at the interview; but Aunt Agnes, as shecame out of the library into the room where I was sitting, looked angryand severe. 

"Money, money, money! That is all your father thinks of from morninguntil night. It is wearing on him too. It is killing him by inches. "

"You are right, Aunt Agnes; he needs rest; he looks tired out, " I said, ignoring the first part of her speech. 

"It is his own fault. And now he wants to educate you in the sameschool. Lucretia Kingsley is correct, --oil and water are more fit to bemated than you and Mr. Spence. You have broken her heart, too, by yourwanton conduct, Virginia. Her sympathy for Mr. Spence is veryaffecting. "

"Pooh!" I answered, angered by her indifference regarding my father;"she is crazy to marry him herself. That is all the matter with her. "

This was the last effort Aunt Agnes made to alter my resolution, but shesaw fit to tell Aunt Helen of my escapade at Mr. Barr's studio, who cameto me in horror. Her predictions were about to be realized, she said. Notwithstanding all her warnings, my name was associated with a vulgaradventurer. "A handsome wretch as I remember him, " she added, "but--evenon your aunt's admission, who is none too nice in her estimate ofpeople--unprincipled, and with low agrarian tastes. "

A fortnight after my dismissal of Mr. Spence, a misfortune befell methat banished all thoughts save those of grief. My father was seizedwith a sudden illness, and died within a few hours. The doctors said thecause of his death was disease of the heart, and that he had been awareof the existence of the disorder for some time. It was many days beforeI thought again of what I was told after the funeral, --that I was leftby my father's will sole heiress to four million dollars. 

BOOK III. 

(UN)COMMON SENSE. 

I. 

My first impulse was to become a woman of business, and assume theentire control of my inheritance. Excepting a few charitable bequestsand some trifling legacies, everything was left to me. I was even madeexecutrix; but my father had indicated in a separate paper that inregard to matters out of my knowledge I could safely consult his ownlegal adviser, Horatio Chelm. 

Mr. Chelm was the conventional idea of a successful lawyer, --withered, non-committal, and a little fusty; but technicalities had failed toharden his heart or obscure his good sense. He had a sunny smile, whichrefreshed my sad spirit when I called upon him shortly after the funeralto inform him of my purpose, and made me feel that I could confide inhim. 

"What, my dear young lady! take entire charge of four million dollars? Iadmire your business ambition, but I must tell you that such a task isimpossible, if you wish to have leisure for anything else. No, no! yourfather could not have meant that. I knew him well, and he was the lastman to have wished to make you a slave to your good fortune. With anincome of nearly two hundred thousand dollars you can afford to leave tosome one else the anxiety and drudgery attendant on the care of yourproperty. Your father wished you to enjoy his money and use it well. Hehas told me so himself. He was very fond and very proud of you, MissHarlan. "

"But he was very anxious to have me understand business matters, Mr. Chelm, " I replied. 

"And he was quite right, too. Don't think for a moment I am dissuadingyou from undertaking a general supervision of your property and tryingto know all about it. It is your duty under the circumstances, I fullyagree. But it would never do to have you spending the best years of yourlife cooped up in an office cutting off coupons and worrying overinvestments. Not, to be sure, that there is much to be done at present, for I never saw a cleaner list of securities than yours; but you have noidea of the amount of watchfulness required to keep an estate like thisunimpaired. A family of children are nothing to it, ha! ha! No, MissHarlan, I tell you what we will do; you shall have a little officeadjoining mine, where you can spend one day in every week transactingwhat is necessary in regard to your property. Everything shall be inyour name, and nothing done without your full understanding and consent. I will be at hand to be plied with questions, and you shall become aswise in finance as Necker himself. But I pray you to devote the sixremaining days to other things, and leave to us dry, matter-of-factlawyers the details of your business. I have a great many millions undermy control, and the percentage which I should derive from the care ofyours is a matter of indifference to me; but I am very much concernedthat you should not make the fatal mistake of becoming a mere femininetrustee. "

I yielded to persuasion; and in accordance with his promise a littleroom adjoining his own private office was allotted to me, and everyMonday morning I drove down-town and spent the day in poring over theledgers and deeds and reports, and in taking a general scrutiny of myaffairs. At first it was all very confusing, but by degrees order wasreduced out of chaos to my understanding, and I learned to take a keeninterest in the points submitted to me for my decision. At first I feltsome humiliation in perceiving that my opinion was consulted merelyfrom form and courtesy, --or, more roughly, because the law required it. I was forced to laugh and shake my head and acknowledge that I was notcapable of judging. I had hoped that I knew enough to be of servicesometimes, and the consciousness of my ignorance spurred me todetermined exertions to overcome the deficiency. Contrary to ourcompact, I read and studied at home books relating to financial andeconomical matters; I concealed railway reports in my muff, and triedvarious artifices to acquire knowledge unbeknown to Mr. Chelm. But itwas chiefly to his kindness and unwearying attention that I owed theproficiency I gradually acquired; and I think it was as genuine apleasure to him as to me, when at last I was able, with a moderatedegree of confidence, to choose for myself between two lines of conduct. I often asked myself what I should have done had I attempted to actalone from the start. 

But it was not long before another interest incident to and growing outof this began to occupy my thoughts and time. The bulk of my daily mailwas increased by subscription lists and circulars soliciting myassistance to every kind of charity and enterprise. People whom I hadnever seen, came to the house to ask aid for struggling talent. I wasimportuned with begging letters from victims to all sorts of distress. Zealous philanthropists wrote that they had taken the liberty of puttingdown my name as a member of their societies, and that the annualassessment was now due and payable. Here again I had recourse to thecounsel of Mr. Chelm, whose experience, as I have hinted, radiatedbeyond the limits of his lucrative practice, and who was not onlyliberal toward the poor, but familiar with their needs. From him Iobtained a variety of hints and suggestions that enabled me to give mymoney and time intelligently, and also to refuse them without remorse. Iwas very glad of this new duty, which easily became a great pleasuredespite my occasional disgust at the impertinence of some applicantswhen it was discovered that I was ready to subscribe freely. I was nothowever satisfied with the easy work of giving, but soon passed from thepassive act of signing cheques to active work among the needy. I studiedthe theories of tenement houses and hygiene, and became a leading spiritin several charitable organizations. 

I renewed also my old habit of reading, and no longer confined myself tothe philosophic and dry subjects pursued under Mr. Fleisch. But I wasconscious that the zest which I felt in renewing a wider range of studywas due to the fact of my having acquired from his instruction a degreeof industry and a power to appreciate that I had not previouslypossessed. At the suggestion of Mr. Chelm, whom I allured to chat withme regarding outside subjects when my business was finished, I read withregularity the leading newspapers and magazines. A familiarity with theformer he declared to be indispensable to a knowledge of currentaffairs, and also that much of the freshest and most valuable thought ofthe day was first made public through the medium of periodicals. Thispractice received likewise the approval of Aunt Helen, who assured methat she always felt lost for the day if she had not looked at theDeaths and Marriages. 

One of my first steps had been to ask Aunt Helen to come and live withme; to which she finally consented, though the consequent necessity ofdisestablishing her cosey little parlor, upon the embellishment of whichshe had spent the overflow of her income for years, cost her many apang. But she was a far-seeing woman, and had I dare say, whileaccepting my offer, a delightful vision of helping me to live up to theduties of my position. I can only say that she soon began to impress theimportance of this upon me by hints more or less palpable; and it wasnot long before she was to all intents and purposes the realhouse-keeper. It was still, to be sure, I that ordered the dinners andengaged the servants, but even in these minor details I was alive to hersuggestions; while in the matter of the general direction of what wenton, her wishes were supreme. At first I was too sad to be other thanindifferent; and later it was a relief to me to have taken off myshoulders the bother of many things which I felt instinctively ought tobe done. I could trust Aunt Helen's taste; and so she had my tacitpermission to follow out her own inclinations in the way of change andimprovements. Under her supervision the house was almost entirelyrefurnished and adorned with the most exquisite specimens of upholsteryand bric-à-brac obtainable. So too, as time went on, she increased thenumber and raised the standard of the domestics, and persuaded me to buya variety of horses and equipages. It was she who kept the grooms up tothe mark regarding the proper degree of polish for the harnesses, andshe spent many days in the selection of an artistic design for thecrest to be emblazoned upon them. So far as was possible she representedthat all these things were done at my desire and out of her sheer goodnature. When I drove with her from shop to shop, as I often did to savemyself from depressing thoughts, she invariably made me pass a formalapproval upon whatever charmed her eye. If this innocent self-deceitgave her pleasure, it did not seem to me worth while to protest. 

And so by the time I left off my mourning, there was little left to bedone to make my establishment one of the most elegant in the city. AuntHelen now turned her attention to my clothes. The costumes which Isuffered her to select were marvels of Parisian art and New Yorkadaptiveness. She sought too, by frequent allusions to my increasedpersonal beauty, to arouse my vanity and induce me to throw off the pallof soberness that had settled upon my spirit. When this failed, she hadrecourse to an opposite policy, and repeated to me the remarks sheoverheard in coming out of church and elsewhere concerning me. Many ofmy acquaintances, she said, were of the opinion that I was eccentric andpartial to "advanced" ideas. Another story current was that I had beencompelled by my father on his death-bed, on pain of disinheritance, todismiss a young artist to whom I was passionately attached. There wasthe same grain of truth to a bushel of error in the remainingconjectures; but Aunt Helen assured me that every one agreed I waspeculiar, and deemed it unfortunate that a young lady possessed of suchsignal advantages should be different from all the rest of the world. Even I, unobservant as I was at this time, was made aware by the curiousglances directed at me as I descended from my carriage, that to acertain extent an heiress belongs to the public. 

Continual dropping, however, will wear away the hardest stone, and AuntHelen was not one to weary in what she considered well-doing. Whennearly three years had elapsed after my father's death, I yielded to herurgency and consented to inaugurate my return to society by giving alarge ball. The idea came to me one night when I was feeling depressedand discouraged over my failure to obtain more than a passive sort ofhappiness in my present occupations. There were so many philanthropists, I thought. I had even begun to feel that the poor were extremely wellprovided for, and that in some respects they were really rather betteroff than I was. For despite my studies and my hours with Mr. Chelm, andthe society meetings which I attended, I was conscious at heart of beinglonely. My ideas too had received certain impressions regarding thepeople who composed society that were quite foreign to those which hadgiven me an aversion to it. Since my accession to an enormous fortune myattention had naturally been directed to the conduct of people situatedsimilarly to myself. At first I was shocked and made morbid by the whirlof selfish pleasure and dissipation that seemed to characterize thelives of this class. But when I came to look a little deeper, I wassurprised to find how many people among the rich whom I had judged to besimply frivolous and indifferent were in reality earnest workers in thevarious fields of philanthropy, science, or art, for the most partcarrying on their investigations unobserved. Among them were a number ofmy old acquaintances with whom at the charitable and other gatheringswhere we met I had resumed the associations of four years ago; and I wasstruck by the serious spirit that now seemed to determine their actions. It was clear to me that earnest-minded people existed among the verywealthy no less than among those less fortunately circumstanced; and asthis grew more apparent, I began to catch a glimpse of what my fatherhad meant in speaking of wealth as the power and possibility of theworld. Was it not essential to leisure; and leisure to refinement andculture? And where necessity ceased to control action, ought there notto be a greater chance for excellence and progress?

These growing impressions served to temper the almost morbid tendency ofmy thoughts to the extent that I have indicated. We gave a grand ball, and under the stimulus of the cordial welcome given me I became thegayest of the gay, and surprised not only my old acquaintances butmyself by the vivacity and desire to please of which I proved capable. Without undue confidence, I can say that I achieved a triumph, and putto rout the various uncomplimentary conjectures that the world hadhazarded in regard to me. Society opened its arms to me as a returningprodigal, and my revulsion of feeling was all the more spontaneous fromthe fact, that, if some of my former acquaintances were as frivolous asever, they had learned to conceal their emptiness by an adaptabilitywhich made them agreeable companions. There was a keen satisfaction, too, in the consciousness which became mine, as I went from house tohouse during the following weeks, that I excelled the most of them inthe power to make myself agreeable. The reading and study of the pastfew years enabled me to shine as a conversationalist, and in my presentregenerated mood I had, on the other hand, no temptation to play thepedant or moralist. I tried to be amusing and to appear clever; and Iwas pleased to read a favorable verdict upon my effort in the attentionsof men as a rule unsusceptible, and in the amazed countenance of AuntHelen. 

Her satisfaction at the course of events was not disguised; but she wasdiplomatic enough, in her conversations with me, not to take toherself the glory of the evolution. She contented herself by way ofrecrimination in such expressions as--"To think, Virginia, how near youcame to throwing yourself away!" and, "It takes a great load off my mindto see you yourself once again. " But after the first few entertainmentsat which we were present together, I often caught her looking at me witha sort of wonder, as though she could scarcely believe that thebrilliant young person whose reappearance in the social world was thesensation of a successful season could really be her niece. 

One evening as we were sitting after our return from an especiallypleasant dinner-party, Aunt Helen surveyed me contentedly through hereye-glass, and said:--

"I have never seen you look or appear better in your life than you didto-night, my dear. Your dress set to perfection, and you were veryagreeable. "

I dropped a little curtsy in return. 

"Yes, " she continued, "I will not disguise that there was a time about ayear ago when I felt very anxious in regard to you. Eccentricity, as Ihave often told you before, is all very well when one has nothing tolose and everything to gain by it. I can understand how a young personwith no antecedents or opportunities for getting on in society mightsecure a temporary advantage by making herself an object of remark. Butin your case it has always seemed to me wholly inexplicable. Every oneknows who you are and all about you, already. However, all is well thatends well, and it is an unspeakable relief to me that you have come toyour senses at last. "

"Don't crow, Aunt Helen, until you are out of the woods. I may be merelya meteor that will vanish some day as quickly as I appeared, and leaveyou all in the dark. "

"You are your own mistress, of course. If I take any credit to myselffor what you are to-day, Virginia, it is because I have never interferedwith anything you chose to do. I have expressed my opinion of coursewhen I thought you were making mistakes, but I have stopped short atthat. Others in the same position might have behaved differently; but itis not my way. I said to myself, 'If her own good sense does not teachher, nothing will. ' So, too, now that you have justified my confidencein you, I have no temptation to act otherwise. You will do what youprefer, of course. But naturally I have my own ideas as to what isdesirable for you. "

"You have been very good to me always, " I replied, smiling at this blandassumption of tact; "and I always like to hear what you have to say. "

"Well, dear, it seems to me that with a very little trouble you can havethe most attractive house in town. One hears it so often said that wehave nothing to correspond to what the French call _salons_, --thosedelightful entertainments one reads about, where every one is eitherclever or distinguished. Of course every one is not really clever, butmade to appear so, --the whole secret lying in the power of some charmingand talented woman to select and combine harmoniously: even the moststupid people (if it is necessary to invite them) are made to sayamusing things. You know of course what I mean. It has been tried here, but rarely with success. It requires both brains and personalattractions, and our women who possess one are too apt to imagine theyhave the other also. But it has occurred to me, several times lately, that you are just the person to attempt it. I may say without flattery, dear, that you are considered very handsome, and people have animpression that you are clever, --which is better even than really beingso, and I do not mean to say that you are not, for I think you are. Youhave had an excellent education, and have a taste for books, and allthat sort of thing. The fact that you have been known to be peculiarwould rather add to your chances of success than otherwise, for it wouldthrow a little air of mystery about you. Then you have a beautiful houseand the means to entertain elegantly; and last, but not least, you havean assured position. The trouble is so apt to be, that those who attemptanything of the sort are not known. All the talent in the world will notbe able to constitute a _salon_ unless one possesses, and is intimatewith others who possess, that indescribable something which every oneunderstands, but which it is difficult to put into words. Yes, Virginia, you have a great opportunity before you, if only you choose to takeadvantage of it. "

Curiously enough, this view of Aunt Helen was quite similar to certainideas which I myself had been revolving since my return to conventionalhabits. I foresaw that my interest in balls and parties merely as suchwas sure to wane before long, and that if I wished to obtain continueddiversion from society it must be by force of some such programme asthat which she had suggested. In short, I felt that the tone andstandard of social life might be raised if one set about it in the rightway. As Aunt Helen said, there were really no reasons why my houseshould not become a centre of elegance and refinement, which, howeverfar distant from the conception of a _salon_, might give pleasure of alegitimate sort to a large number of people. 

So much did this scheme grow upon me, that by another winter I was busyin putting it into execution. Thanks to the past energy of Aunt Helen, my house was already very nearly up to the mark as a model of luxury andtaste. I gave a series of entertainments which I sought to make asdistinguished and agreeable as possible. Upon a foundation of the mostfastidious and well-bred of my acquaintances I cast a sprinkling ofclever men who commonly found parties a bore, original but outlandishwomen, representatives of every sort of talent, local and visitingcelebrities, and every desirable stranger in town. They all would beglad to come for once, I knew. The vital point was to induce them tocome again. To effect this, I left no stone unturned and begrudged noexpenditure. I found it somewhat up-hill work at first, but none theless were my efforts crowned with success in the end. My house grew tobe the favorite resort alike of the fashionable and the cultivated; andto keep it so created an interest in my life which relieved thesombreness of my other occupations. 

In the pursuance of this object I gave free scope to a taste which I hadbeen educating in a quiet way ever since my youth, --that of collectingpictures. I had a room in the house admirably adapted for the purposefitted up as a gallery, and in a short time had got together the nucleusof a valuable display of masterpieces. By degrees it came to be knownthat this was the case, and I found pleasure in allowing the public tosee them on certain days. 

One day I was puzzled by the arrival of a picture carefully boxed up andaddressed to me, which on opening I discovered to be the portrait of mewhich Paul Barr had painted. In selecting material for my entertainmentsI had naturally thought of him among the first, but inquiry failed todiscover his whereabouts. He had left town a few days subsequent to theharassing scene between us, and there were no traces of him beyond thedirection on the door of his studio that all communications intrusted tothe janitor of the building would ultimately reach him. To this addressI sent several notes of invitation, hoping perhaps to catch him on thewing or lure him from retirement. But at the time the portrait arrived Ihad ceased to make further attempts. There was no note or cardaccompanying it, but the bold superscription left no doubt in my mind asto the donor. A few weeks later I was astonished and delighted at one ofmy receptions to see the artist-poet's massive figure towering above theother guests, and an instant later we had exchanged the most cordial ofhand-shakings, attended on his part as ever by profuse gesture andcompliment, and on mine by genuine good-will, which it was easy to seehe reciprocated. He looked little changed, unless it were that he washandsomer and more extraordinary than formerly, and his presence causedmuch lively speculation as to the new celebrity I had unearthed. He hadbeen abroad, studying and travelling, --and trying to forget, he added. The last he had found impossible, he said; but though he sighed as hespoke, I knew that his wound was healed. He was to resume his work atonce; had brought back a host of ideas he was eager to put intoexecution, and was what he called "under the mastery of the twindemi-gods--necessity and aspiration. "

Later I thanked him for his picture, which I told him, as was notablythe case, artistic circles were raving over. Indeed, when I let it beknown that the handsome stranger was no other than Paul Barr, whosegenius was already celebrated, he received an ovation. Nor was itexhausted at my house. He was instantly taken up by the critics and byfashionable folk alike, to such an extent that I became apprehensivelest so much attention would detract from the merit of his new work. Butthough I feared from what was whispered concerning him that histemperament and habits were still mercurial, he had evidently studied tosome purpose; for his pictures, the _abandon_ of which would haveshocked Mr. Spence more than ever, became instantly the vogue, andbrought him speedy fame and fortune. For both of these he persisted inconsidering himself indebted to me. I never ventured to run the risk ofwounding his sensibilities by offering him anything for the portrait, although in a merchantable sense its value was excessive. 

I have not spoken of my Aunt Agnes; but up to this time there was littleto be said of her. She kept up the even tenor of her ways, whichincluded a repellent air toward me for long after my father's death. Shemight have forgotten and forgiven the past, but in my choice of AuntHelen as a companion I had added insult to injury. There was no openbreach of course, but our relations were not cordial. I tried at timesto ameliorate the situation by sending her presents, and trying to lether see when we met that I was still studious and anxious to lead asober life. But all in vain. She was resolute in the belief that to haverefused an offer of marriage from such a man as Mr. Spence wasinconsistent with a serious desire for self-improvement. She doubtlesswas abetted in this view by Miss Kingsley, who continued to be intimateat her house despite her increasing appropriation of Mr. Spence. Thephilosopher was said to be more and more under her thrall every day, asI was informed by Mr. Fleisch whom I invited to several of myreceptions. He told me he was himself no longer in harmony with Mr. Spence, or rather that the master could not afford to pay him asufficient salary to warrant him in devoting his entire time to thedoctrine of Moderation. His condensed music had not sold, and he hadbeen forced, in order to support his wife and child (for he was marriednow), to adopt the old system of composition, and to give music lessons. This had caused a coolness on the part of Mr. Spence, who, as Mr. Fleisch expressed it, wished to have all or none. But though he was nolonger the chief disciple, he held the master in the profoundest regardand affection. He assured me, with tears in his eyes, that nothing butthe stress of absolute want could have induced him to sacrifice artistictruth to expediency, and that he stole hours from sleep that he mightcontinue to carry on his investigations still. Here again I was able tobe of some service, for I introduced Mr. Fleisch as a competent andconscientious musical instructor to a number of my friends, who seemedto find him all that I described. He played several of his pieces at myhouse with much _éclat_, even including one of those which illustratedModeration. But I noticed as he became more popular and prosperous thathe seemed content to adhere to the conventional methods, and to avoidallusion to his former hobbies. 

Though I sent cordial invitations to Mr. Spence to lecture at myreceptions, he invariably declined. I sometimes fancied that it might bebecause I did not extend them to Miss Kingsley also. I judged from whatI saw in the newspapers, as well as from what Mr. Fleisch told me, thatthe number of his followers was diminishing in spite of his most earnestefforts, and that Miss Kingsley was now his only really devotedsupporter. The knowledge of this counteracted my scruples against her sofar that I sent an invitation to them both, with the assurance that Mr. Spence's lecture should be the feature of the occasion. They accepted, not altogether to my surprise, and I did my best to select anappreciative audience. Mr. Spence looked worn and dispirited I thought, but as he warmed to his theme the light in his eyes seemed as vivid asever. The sweetness of his tones was however unfortunately impaired by aheavy cold, and though I, being familiar with the lecture, --"Tensionand Torpor of the Nerves, "--felt some of my old enthusiasm, it was soonevident to me that the majority of his listeners were bored. Theappearance of Miss Kingsley likewise created an impression that reactedon the philosopher. She was very much overdressed, and made a markedeffort to carry the assembly by storm. She played the double rôle of awould-be arch coquette and hero-worshipper, and while chanting thetalent of the lecturer, omitted no effort to secure admiration on herown account. There are always a few men who are amused for the moment bythis sort of thing, but I could see the eye-glasses of the censorsraised wonderingly, and the turned shoulders grow colder, as the eveningadvanced. I was sorry for them both, even for her; and not many daysafter, I wrote Mr. Spence a long letter, in which I referred to thegreat influence in the way of discipline which I felt his instructionhad had upon me, and inclosed a check for a considerable sum, which Iasked him to accept as a contribution towards endowing a school wherelectures should be delivered on the leading features of Moderation. Icannot say that I did this without some scruples, on the score that I nolonger had much faith in the soundness of any of his ideas, but Icondoned the weakness with my conscience by debiting the amount tocharity. After all, he could not do much harm by his teachings, and Ihated to think that a man so earnest as he should know the bitterness oftotal failure. 

But my kind intentions met a cruel rebuff. On the following morning Ireceived a formal note in Miss Kingsley's handwriting, which stated thatMr. Spence had desired her to say that it was impossible for him toaccept the money, and that she was my "obedient servant, LucretiaKingsley. " My attention was called by a friend the same day to a longitem in the "Sunday Mercury, " which while extolling the lecture of Mr. Spence at my house, and announcing that among the guests was the"authoress Miss Kingsley, who wore, etc. " contained a disagreeablecomment on what was called "the lavish luxury and lack of discriminatingreverence for the best sentiments of the day, which characterized theprincipal parlors. "

The next time I went to see Aunt Agnes I received an explanation of thisconduct, though my name had appeared once or twice before during thepast few years in uncomplimentary paragraphs. She upbraided me at oncewith a renewed attempt to divert the attention of Mr. Spence from hislabors to myself. Miss Kingsley had come to her with tears in her eyes, and described the Babylonian influences by which I had sought to seducehim. He had gone, she said, at the call of duty to accomplish what goodhe might, but never in the whole course of his professional experiencehad his words fallen on a more flinty and barren soil. And then, as ifit were not enough to flaunt in the face of my old master theextravagances most hostile to the theories of which he was the advocate, I had sought to tempt him with money to become a perpetual presence atmy immoderate receptions. 

"Bah!" exclaimed Aunt Agnes in the ardor of her indignation, as shefinished the account of Miss Kingsley's narrative, --"bah! Trying to leada sober life! Tell _me_! I hear on all sides that your house has becomea hot-bed of all that is worldly and luxurious in the city. And notcontent with that, you are scheming to corrupt the one who in thismoney-worshipping age is faithful to principle. I am almost disposed tosay for the last time, 'Go your own ways, and never come near meagain. '"

"Do not say that yet, Aunt Agnes. Wait a little, " I answered, genuinelymoved by the distress of the old lady. 

"If I were to wait until doomsday it would be still the same. You are nolonger a child; and though you have Harlan blood in your veins, I ambeginning to feel that I have wasted my best affections on a worthlesssubject. If you were my own daughter, I could not have been more unhappyon your account. Thank Heaven! I shall soon be in my grave. "

I left the house feeling very much like crying, for the mood of AuntAgnes was less defiant and more pitiful than usual. It seemed as thoughher iron spirit had yielded at last to the repeated opposition of anunkind world. And of those who had resisted her wishes and commands Iwas certainly among the chief. I had tried, was trying now, to live whatshe liked to call a sober life, --but all in vain, so far as winning herapproval. Was there no way in which I could make her happy, and smooththe stern frown from her features before she died? I would certainlymake the endeavor; and under the influence of this determination Irevolved with a freshened interest as I went along the street thecircumstances of a curious incident that had befallen me a week ago atMr. Chelm's office. So absorbed was I that I did not notice theapproach of Mr. Spence and Miss Kingsley until they were close upon me. I bowed with politeness; but though the philosopher hesitated, he turnedhis pale face away and looked in another direction. As for MissKingsley, she regarded me with a cold and haughty stare, as though wehad never met. 

II. 

The incident to which I have vaguely alluded was the result of anarrangement between Mr. Chelm and myself, that the door connecting ouroffices should be left ajar during the visits of his clients, exceptwhere privacy was important. In the latter case he was very careful, ofcourse, to close it; but unless he did so I had his permission to listento what was said. This soon became my favorite diversion, and I evencame to the office for the purpose on other days than my usual one. Agreat many strange people came to consult Mr. Chelm, and I thus pickedup a stock of miscellaneous information about business matters as wellas some new ideas regarding human nature. Sometimes when the visitorsseemed particularly interesting I would venture to peep round the corneror through the crack of the door, so as to catch a glimpse of them. Afterward Mr. Chelm often told me more about them, and in instanceswhere pecuniary aid could be of service allowed me to come to therescue; for there were numerous persons who resorted to him for relief, knowing that he was a charitable man who had helped others. If he hadthe leisure, he always lent a sympathetic ear to their stories, and ifhe could not aid them was uniformly kind and considerate. 

I was struck by the number of applicants for employment. "Give ussomething to do, and we can get along. We want work, not money, " was thetoo frequent petition, for it was just this class of persons whom Mr. Chelm found it most difficult to assist. So many of them too wereeducated and intelligent young men and women, unaccustomed to hardshipsand to shift for themselves, driven out of work by the continuedhardness of the times. For nearly five years business had been at astand-still, Mr. Chelm told me, and as a consequence property haddepreciated sadly in value, and an immense amount of distress beencaused among people of moderate means. To many a tale of destitution Ithus listened with tears in my eyes, and on more than one occasion wasable to procure at least temporary occupation for the sufferers. 

One morning as I was thus sitting hoping for some client to arrive, Isaw through the half open door a young man dressed in the height offashion, _bien ganté, bien chaussé_, and attended by the very ugliestbull-terrier it had ever been my lot to gaze on, enter Mr. Chelm'soffice. I had by this time learned to divine usually the errands ofclients before they began to speak, and I made up my mind that thishandsome young dandy--for he was extremely good-looking to boot--must bethe heir to some large estate which he wished to intrust to the care ofMr. Chelm, or that he had got entangled with an actress, and was insearch of legal aid to release him from the meshes of the net. In eitherevent I expected to have the door closed in my face, and the stranger'ssecret to remain sealed from me forever. I placed my chair however sothat I should be screened from observation and yet within earshot, prepared to see and listen as long as should be possible. 

The visitor drew a card from a very dainty case and laid it on Mr. Chelm's desk. 

"My name is Prime, sir, --Francis Prime. I have come to consult you on abusiness matter. "

"Pray sit down, Mr. Prime. What is it I can do for you?"

"You knew my father, I think?"

"Ralph Prime, of New York? Most assuredly. I had a high regard forhim. "

"I am his only son. He died, as you may be aware, five years ago inreduced circumstances, because he preferred to remain honest. An odderratic choice, was it not?"

"I was sorry to hear he had been unfortunate, " answered Mr. Chelmquietly. 

"Yes, sir, paradoxical as it may seem, my father was an honest man. Onemight have supposed his only son would inherit that trait, if nothingelse. But it must have skipped a generation. I am not what I seem. I ama sham. " He sat in silence for some minutes stroking his mustache. 

"I judge that you have got into some difficulty, Mr. Prime. If so, I amvery sorry to hear it. Be frank with me, and as your father's friend Iwill do what I can for you. But as a lawyer I must ask you to concealnothing. " So saying Mr. Chelm made a move as if to close the door. 

"Pray, do not trouble yourself, sir. My story is already known to somany people that privacy is immaterial. Let me, instead, ask permissionto light a cigarette, --that is, if you do not object to smoking and aresufficiently at leisure to hear me to the end. "

"Certainly. Make it a cigar and I will join you; and pray try one ofthese if you will, for my time is quite at your disposal, " answered Mr. Chelm, who it was evident to me was amused and puzzled by his visitor. 

"Thank you. " He settled himself comfortably in his chair, and after apreliminary puff, said: "I am no ordinary felon. I am even not, strictlyspeaking, amenable to the laws. I am however, as I have told youalready, a sham. The world believes me to be a young fellow of fortune, whose only concern is with the cut of his coat and the smile of hismistress. The world for once is in error. I am nothing of the sort. Appearances are against me, I admit. Even you I fancy were deceived. No, my dear sir, while every one judges me to be a mere butterfly offashion, I am an idealist at heart. And the worst of it is that no onewill believe me. All that I want is a chance, an opportunity to prove Iam that which I claim; but nobody will give it to me. If I venture tosuggest that I am in earnest, the statement excites sneers or ridicule. For nearly two years I have been trying to find something to do, andwithout success. I have exhausted my own city, and have now come toyours. Your name was familiar to me as one which my father respected, and it occurred to me to tell you my story. I am quite prepared to beinformed that there are a thousand applicants for every vacancy, andthat such a case as mine is not especially deserving. In one sense ofthe word you would be right; there are others who suffer more acutelythan I, but few who suffer more unjustly. And the whole cause is to befound in a single phrase, --I am a gentleman. "

"You are indeed to be pitied, " said Mr. Chelm, with an amused laugh. 

"And what is more, it is not my fault. I am not responsible for it; Iwas born so. My case is precisely opposite to that of most of mycontemporaries. They find it easy enough to get occupation, but verydifficult to be gentlemen; I know how to behave like a gentleman, butcan find nothing to do. Gentlemen are evolved, not made. Would to HeavenI had been consulted on the subject! But I awoke one day and foundmyself what I am. Let me rehearse to you briefly my qualifications. Iwas sent to school abroad, and was graduated from college at home. Ispeak fluently three modern languages besides my own, and have a bowingacquaintance with two dead ones. I have read widely enough in history, political economy, literature, science, and music to be superficial. Ican write verses, play on the piano and flute, fence, flirt, and leadthe cotillon. All this the public seem to recognize and give me creditfor; but when I ask them to take me seriously, as they would the veriestbeggar in the street, the frivolous look incredulous and giggle, and thepractical frown and point me to the door. And why? Simply, --and thiswill, it may be, anticipate your criticism, --simply because I wearwell-fitting clothes, address a lady with gallantry, and change my coatfor dinner. Let me add at once, if you have no assistance to offer as tohow I shall find employment except to go from office to office with along face and baggy trousers, I must respectfully decline to take thestep. It has become a matter of pride with me: I draw the line there. Call it volatile, foolish, obstinate, what you will, --I propose to be agentleman to the last. I will starve with a smile on my face and aflawless coat on my back, though it be my only one. As I have said, gentlemen are evolved, not made; and we owe it to our sons to keep upthe standard of the race. They will not even allow, sir, that I am anAmerican. I am received with scorn, and denied my birthright, not onlyby those to whom I apply for work, but by the Arabs of the street andthe public press. I am not complaining; I am merely stating the facts ofthe case. They even cast Ike in my teeth, --Ike the imperious, beautifully ugly Ike, " he added, stooping down to pat the bull-terrier, who showed his teeth and growled affectionately. "Now, Mr. Chelm, youhave my story. I am in earnest. Will you help me?"

"I can understand your difficulties to some extent, Mr. Prime, and amnot altogether without sympathy for you, " began the lawyer gravely, after a short reflection. "The times are hard for everybody undeniably, and especially for young men in your position. It is a comparativelyeasy matter to draw a cheque to alleviate distress, but finding work foranybody to-day is next to impossible. However, as one can never tellwhat may turn up, let me ask you a blunt question. What are you fit for?What can you do?"

"Here again, sir, the world would tell you that I was fit for nothingexcept to play the lute beneath a lady's window. But if you will believeme, I am not without business knowledge. Gentleman as I am, I have longcherished an ambition to become a merchant prince (it is well to aspirehigh), --a genuine merchant-prince, however, and not the counterfeitarticle who accumulates millions for his children to squander. I haveviews upon the subject. I am an idealist, as I have told you, and therewas a time when I thought my father very rich, and that I should be ableto carry out my theories. Since then I have resolved to win back beforeI die the fortune he lost; and with a view to that I devote severalhours in each day (if this should be breathed abroad, my reputation forconsummate emptiness might suffer) to the study of exports and imports, markets and exchanges, and all that relates to commercial affairs. Youasked me what I am fit for, Mr. Chelm. My father was a banker. I shouldlike to follow in his footsteps. But supplicants cannot be choosers. Procure me a clerkship in any line of business, and I shall try to provemyself worthy of your patronage. "

"Humph! I wish I could help you, with all my heart. But, frankly, I knowof nothing at the moment. Bankers are discharging their clerks, notengaging new ones. I will make inquiries however, and see if it ispossible to do anything for you. You have applied to all your friends inNew York, you say, without avail?"

"Entirely. The few who have any faith in my professions are powerless togive me employment. "

"Let me see: to-day is Wednesday. Can you call again on Saturday, Mr. Prime? Mind, I promise nothing. In fact, I have every reason to believethat I shall be unsuccessful. "

The appointment thus made was due to my touching the electric bell in myoffice, --a signal agreed upon as an indication of my desire to assistany applicant for aid. Accordingly, when I entered Mr. Chelm's roomafter his visitor was gone, I was greeted with a bantering smile. 

"How now, my fair philanthropist! What scheme have you to relieve theplight of this knight-errant?"

"In the first place, " I said, "who is he? Do you believe his story? Whatsort of a person was his father?"

"Three questions in one breath! The last is the easiest to answer. Thisyoung man's father was one of the wealthiest bankers in New York fifteenyears ago. I knew him well: a man who was the very soul of honor, shrewdand liberal in his business notions, and in his bearing the pattern of afinished gentleman, --one of your genuine aristocrats; and, like his son, a bit of a dandy. He came to grief, as so many of us do, throughmisplaced confidence. Certain parties whom he trusted implicitly made awreck of his entire fortune. It was said at the time that he might havesaved a large portion of it, had he been willing to take advantage of alegal technicality as against his creditors. But, as his son said, hepreferred to remain honest. He died not many years ago, and left thisboy very little, I fancy, but an untarnished name. Of the son I knowreally nothing. I have never seen him before. He is not unlike hisfather in appearance, and is even more fastidious in his dress. That maybe from bravado, of course. What he says about gentlemen not having afair chance in this country has a certain amount of truth in it. "

"A great deal of truth, it seems to me, " I answered. 

"Very likely. But it is to be borne in mind that the so-called gentlemenhave a heavy score against them in the past. They have had theirinnings; and now that they are out, democracy is not disposed to letthem off too easily. The sins of the forefathers being visited on thechildren is a proverb as stable as the hills in its logical results. "

"Yes. But do you not think it is cruel to turn the cold shoulder on aman merely because he dresses well?"

"Undoubtedly. But they have themselves to blame for it. The world hasnot yet got accustomed to the idea that a man with a flawless coat onhis back means to do anything. Not so very long ago such a thing wasunknown. I am willing to admit that when the gentlemen consent to work, they make the best workers; but the burden of evidence, as we lawyerssay, is on them. "

"The world refuses to believe because it is envious. There isn't one ofthe business men who decline to give Mr. Prime a chance who wouldn'tgive half his fortune to be like him if he could. "

"You are a philosopher as well as a philanthropist, young lady, I see. You may not be far wrong. But if Mr. Prime knew what a champion he has, he would cease to despair. You asked, I think, if I believed his story. It is quite evident what your opinion is, " said Mr. Chelm, with a laugh. 

"Very well then, I do believe it; and I want to help him. "

"Romance against the lawyers, ha! ha!"

"I am a very determined young person when I make up my mind. You cannotlaugh me out of it, Mr. Chelm. "

"Heaven forbid! But what do you propose to do?"

"Give him a chance. "

The lawyer rubbed his chin reflectively. "I am perfectly willing toresign in his favor, but otherwise I know of no vacancy either in youror my gift to fill, " he said with a smile. 

"I cannot spare you yet. I have another plan. "

"And that?"

"A very romantic one, as you have predicted. I propose to set him up inbusiness. "

"As a gentleman?"

"He is that already. No, as a banker. "

"Indeed!"

"What do you think of my idea?"

"I have heard only the beginning of it. It is natural enough to feel theinclination to set a handsome young man up as a banker; but I fail tocomprehend yet the details of the scheme. "

"I shall leave them to you. "

"To me? But I regret to say, Miss Harlan, that I know of nobanking-house at present that would employ the services of this embryomerchant-prince. "

"Oh, but you don't or you won't understand me. What I propose is tofound a banking-house, and furnish the capital myself. "

"What!" Mr. Chelm leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "Thisis romance with a vengeance. Would I were twenty-five, and insearch of occupation! And what, pray, is to be the name of the newconcern?--Harlan and Prime; or Virginia Harlan and Company? I amconfident it will be a partnership for life. "

"Francis Prime and Company, of course. I will not submit to be laughedat, Mr. Chelm. This is a serious business matter. "

"Oh, most certainly! Thoroughly business-like in every sense! My dearyoung lady, if you expect me to preserve my legal gravity you must notbe so humorous; it is beyond the self-control of even a fustyconveyancer. And what part in this financial idyl am I expected toplay!"

"You are to arrange it all. I am to furnish the money, and remainstrictly incognito. That is the first and essential condition I impose. "

"What! Mr. Prime is not to know the name of his benefactress?"

"On no account whatever!"

"He will be sure to search the earth until he finds her. "

"Not if he be made to believe she is ancient and homely. Besides, how ishe to know it is a woman?"

"Forgive me, Miss Harlan, but no one except a woman could invent such aproject. It fairly takes my breath away. How much of your capital do youpropose to embark in the enterprise, --the whole four millions?"

"No, Mr. Chelm, I am not utterly irrational yet. That is one of thepoints I mean to leave to your discretion. I merely insist that he shallnot be scrimped. I do not think, however, that I care to advance overtwo hundred and fifty thousand dollars. "

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? And still you talk ofdiscretion!"

"Is not that enough?"

"Enough! Why, certainly not. If you are bent upon the plan, at least putit through handsomely, Miss Harlan. Let him have a cool million at once, and be done with it. "

"I know, of course, that this must seem very quixotic to you as abusiness man, Mr. Chelm, " I continued after a moment's reflection. "Verylikely you think I am merely jesting. But I am not. I am perfectlyserious. I want to help Mr. Prime. I was very much interested by whathe said, and I believe he is in earnest. The plan that I have justsuggested seems to me entirely feasible. Even supposing that I lose acouple of hundred thousand dollars, what then? It is a year's income atthe worst; whereas, on the other hand, if the scheme prospers, and heturns out to be"--

"A merchant prince, " interrupted Mr. Chelm. "Yes, a merchant prince, asI believe he will, "--

"You will be married, and be happy ever after, as in other fairystories. "

"Nothing of the sort, Mr. Chelm. My conclusion of the affair is muchless sentimental. In case events result as I hope and predict, I shallbe thankful that I have given him a chance to put his theories intopractice. You may remember that he said he had theories regarding theuse a rich man should make of his money. "

"It strikes me you are willing to pay pretty dear for the probable valueof the information, even if matters turn out as you expect. But themoney is yours, Miss Harlan, not mine; and if you are resolved uponbeing generous in this wholesale way, it is not for me to complain. Welawyers get conservative as we grow older, and any romance that may havebeen in us dries up, like the sap in trees that have begun to outlasttheir usefulness. We know how hard it is to earn an honest living; andwhen we see any one in whom we have an interest developing a taste forimprudent speculations, we instinctively utter a protest. Still, as yousay, it is but a year's income; and maybe the cheapest way in the end toteach you reason is to humor this expensive fancy. If the money is lost, you will never miss it; while, assuming that this young man is all yourimagination paints him, I know of nothing that would give me greaterpleasure than to see you happily married. That is a romance to which Iwould say 'Amen' with all my heart. "

"Thank you very much, Mr. Chelm. But I will not obtain your connivanceon any such terms. If you regard this as other than a purely businessenterprise, I warn you that you will be wofully disappointed. "

"I shall have to take my chance of being right, just as you are going totake yours. But come now, since you insist upon my treating this matterseriously, what is it that you wish me to do?"

"Everything, Mr. Chelm. "

"Even to giving away the bride? You must promise me that, eh! MissHarlan?"

"With pleasure. "

"It is a bargain then. Command my services as you will, --I wish I couldsay my capital also. But unfortunately I cannot afford to toss away myhundreds of thousands like some people. But that is an aside. Tell mewhat you wish me to do. I am all ears. "

"To begin with, when Mr. Prime returns on Saturday, I should like you toinform him that you happened by chance to mention his predicament to afriend of yours. "

"Of which sex?"

"That is entirely immaterial. But if he should happen to inquire, Ishall depend on you to preserve my incognito. You must even fib alittle, if it is necessary. "

"Mercy on us! This romantic young philanthropist talks of fibbing, as ifit were the most simple thing in life. No, Mademoiselle, we lawyersnever fib. If we are ever obliged to forsake the narrow pathway oftruth, we tell a square, honest lie. But this is positively my lastinterruption. "

"You are to tell him that this friend of yours was very much interestedin his endeavors to find something to do, and sympathized with hisdetermination to wear a smile on his face and avoid baggy trousers tothe last. That I--I mean of course the friend--am willing to give himthe chance for which he asks to prove himself a man, by placing in yourhands a sufficient sum to found a banking-house of undoubted solvency. He is to have complete control of this money, on which he may payinterest if he chooses, in order to satisfy your business scruples, Mr. Chelm; but he need never pay it back unless he wishes to do so, --theparticulars of all which you will understand how to arrange better thanI can tell you. Some day in the dim future, when he has realized hisambition, --for don't imagine for an instant, Mr. Chelm, that I expecthim to make a fortune all at once, --he may return the original loan ifhe sees fit. I shall be an old woman then, and should, it may be, haveless objection to being known as his benefactress than at present. Letme see: is there anything else to say? As to the name of the firm, itought to be Francis Prime and Company, I presume; but the 'company' mustbe a man of straw. He is to receive no outside help, not even from you. There, I think I have made my wishes sufficiently plain. "

"You do not desire him to give security for whatever you may advance?Not a very business-like arrangement. But as for that, the whole schemeis the most Utopian I ever heard of. These women, these women! It makesa prudent man tremble to think what would become of the universe if theyhad full sway! But I must submit, I suppose. I have given my word. "

"I fear he has no security to offer unless it be Ike, the beautifullyugly Ike; Ike the imperious! Do you suppose he would part with theanimal? I took rather a fancy to him, didn't you Mr. Chelm?"

"Nay, there I shall put down my foot. I will have no dogs in thisoffice. 'Love me, love my dog' is a maxim to which I could not subscribeeven in your case. No, unbusiness-like as it is, I prefer to make theloan without security. "

 * * * * *

It may be easily imagined that during the next few days I was on tiptoewith expectation. Let it be said at once, that I was quite aware that Iwas about to commit what might fairly be considered a folly byprudent-minded people. The chances of my goose proving a swan werealtogether too slight to justify the extravagance I proposed. Butdespite this I never once wavered in my resolution, nor suffered doubtto mar the mirror of fancy in which I chose to behold my protégéfulfilling the ample measure of his ambition in the years to come. Whatan absorbing interest it would be to me to watch from behind my mask theprogress he made! If he proved successful, I could feel that part of thecreating power was mine; for had I not trusted him? Let a man realizethat there is some one who has faith in him, and the battle is half won. Even suppose he were to prove the recreant and the impostor predicted, the world would not be able to jeer at me; I could hug my wretchedsecret, and none would be the wiser. Decidedly, I was to be envied inthe acquisition of this new interest. It would be almost like having adouble self, for was not my hero pondering over the same questions thatwere constantly in my thoughts, --how a rich man was to spend his money?With this difference, however: his ideas were already settled, whereasmine were in process of formation. I was to share with him my fortune, and he would enlighten me in turn. Perhaps also there was a shade ofirony in my reflections, and I was eager to see if he would find therôle of a merchant-prince so easy to play as he seemed to fancy. Then, too, there was a delightful element of uncertainty and mystery about itall. I was original; I was not copying every one else. Although of Mr. Prime in a personal sense I scarcely thought at all, there was aromantic flavor to the episode that stirred my imagination. 

So gay and light-hearted did I feel that Aunt Helen noted it, andalluded to the fact with pleasure as we sat together on the Fridayevening previous to Mr. Prime's return. 

"I have good reason to be. I feel very happy to-night. I could danceuntil morning, or do anything equally frivolous and erratic, " I answeredmysteriously. She looked up with an anxious expression. "No, Aunt Helendear, I am not engaged. It is nothing so dreadful as that. It is merelythat I think I may have found my mission at last. "

"Mission! What does the child mean? Don't tell me, " she cried with asudden access of horror, "that you are going out to convert the Indians, or to do any peculiar thing like that. That would be the last straw!"

"Try again, " I said laughing. 

"You gave me a scare, Virginia! You are such a strange girl, that, though you are more like other people than you used to be, I can neverfeel quite sure of you. If it isn't that you are engaged, or going to dosomething odd, what is it, dear?"

"Nothing, Aunt Helen. I was merely romancing a little, that's all. Asyou say, I am a strange girl, and very likely what I am thinking aboutis all a delusion, and may never come to anything. I may wake up anymorning and find it is a dream. But let your mind rest easy; I am notcontemplating anything that will isolate me from society. "

"I should hope not, I am sure, after your last experience;" and I heardher mutter to herself as I went out of the room, --"Mission? Why does shewant to bother her head about a mission? I shall never feel perfectlysafe until I see her well married. "

III. 

I had decided to be present at the second interview between Mr. Chelmand Mr. Prime, for several reasons. I was curious to have another lookat my beneficiary, and I had an impression that Mr. Chelm might feel hislegal conscience prick him, and so spoil the plot, if I were not withinearshot. When the interview took place, however, the lawyer took a mildrevenge by toying with his visitor a little at first, as though about togive an unfavorable answer; and I shall never forget Mr. Prime'sexpression when the true state of the case was made known to him. Aftersitting in silence for a moment as though endeavoring to grasp thefacts, he gave a short incredulous laugh, and stooping down to pat Ike, said nervously, --

"Is this a joke? A ghastly practical joke?"

"It sounds like one, doesn't it?" said Mr. Chelm; and he grinned fromear to ear. "I fancy, though, that you are not in a mood to be trifledwith. No, you have fallen on your feet this time, young man. What I havetold you is all true. "

"Do you mean to say that your friend wishes to advance me two hundredand fifty thousand dollars to found a banking-house?"

"Precisely. "

"But I have no security to offer. "

"I have already told you that no security will be required. "

"Excuse me--eh--but is your friend of sound mind?"

"I don't wonder you ask, ha! ha! But I am compelled to answer yes. Myfriend is a philanthropist. That may make matters clearer. "

"It is like a fairy story, isn't it Ike? Let me rehearse the conditionsagain, so as to be sure I am not dreaming. With this loan, which I shallnever be called on to pay back unless I choose, I am to establish in NewYork the house of Francis Prime and Company. I am to devote my energies, first, to becoming abnormally rich; and after that simple result isaccomplished, to carry out the theories I have as to how one in thatposition should live. Meanwhile, I am to pledge my word never to divulgethe circumstances of this interview, and on no pretence whatever to seekto discover the name of the person to whom I owe my good fortune. Have Iomitted anything?"

"You have stated the case exactly. "

"Humph! I should like to ask a single question. Is my benefactor a manor a woman?"

"Another question like that would justify me in withdrawing the offer, "answered Mr. Chelm with gravity. "My client wishes to have no identitywhatever. Come, sir, my time is precious. I await your decision. "

"The proposal is so sudden and unexpected. To ascend in a twinkling fromthe depths of despair to the summit of hope, leaves one a triflebewildered. But you are right. I have no claim on your time. You want ananswer. "

He laughed again in a nervous manner, and stroked Ike. 

"I do not wish to hurry you unduly. I have a letter to write, which willtake me a few minutes. Think the matter over until I have finished. "

"Thank you. I will. But since I have imposed upon your good nature sofar, do me one more kindness, Mr. Chelm. What is your own opinion inthis matter? Do you advise me to accept?"

I listened eagerly for his reply. It was in his power to spoil all. 

"Really, I feel embarrassed how to answer. As I have already implied toyou, the proposition strikes me, as a lawyer, as being the mostpreposterous piece of extravagance I ever heard suggested. I will tellyou frankly that I tried my utmost to dissuade my client from making it. It is thoroughly unbusiness-like and absurd. That is my view of thematter from a professional standpoint. "

"I see, " said Mr. Prime. 

"But, " continued Mr. Chelm, --and here he stopped and gave an amusedchuckle, --"it is a rare chance for a young man, a rare chance. My clientwill never mind the loss of the money, and would feel genuinedisappointment, I know, if you were to decline. This being the case, andfeeling as I do that you are in earnest in your desire to succeeddespite your aristocratic tendencies, I am tempted on the whole to urgeyou to accept the good fortune which is thrust upon you. It is for myclient's sake as much as for your own that I advise this, for I can seethat she has set her heart--"

He stopped short. There was a dead pause, and I felt the blood rush tomy cheeks. 

"Well!" he exclaimed, "I have let the cat out of the bag with avengeance this time. A lawyer, too. Pshaw! It is too bad!"

"That settles it, " said Mr. Prime, quietly; "I cannot accept now at anyrate. It would not be fair to your client. "

"Not accept? Of course you will accept. Nonsense, nonsense! It is all myfault, and you shall have the money now if I have to pay it out of myown pocket. Besides, " said Mr. Chelm with voluble eagerness, "there isvery little harm done after all; and to prevent misunderstanding, I mayas well make a clean breast of it. My client is an eccentric maiden-ladyof sixty-five, with a lot of distant relatives who bother her life outwhile waiting for her to die. I am her only intimate friend, but even Icannot prevent her from doing all sorts of queer things in her taste forsentimentality. You see, poor woman, when she was very young she had alover of just about your age (she wears his portrait perpetually in alocket about her neck), who died. He was in business, and doing verywell. Several times already, on this account, she has helped young menwho were in straits; and when I told her your story, and what you wereambitious to do, she clapped her withered old hands together and said, 'I will give him a chance, Mr. Chelm, I will give him a chance! Hereminds me of my Tom. ' And that is how it came to pass. There is thelong-and-short of the matter. Accept? To be sure you will accept. It isall my fault. I will make it right with her. It would break her heart ifyou did not. So, no more words about it. I have all the necessary papersready. "

Mr. Prime was patting Ike more abstractedly than ever. As for me, I sataghast and overwhelmed. The next few seconds seemed an eternity. 

"Well, young man?"

"Please to write your letter, Mr. Chelm, and give me time to think. "

"Not a bit of it! The letter can wait. Say you accept, and be done withit!"

"Very well then, I accept. We are gentlemen of fortune, Ike, and youshall have a new silver collar to-morrow. "

It is not necessary to describe the details of the interview further. Anhour elapsed before the final arrangements were made and Mr. Prime leftthe office. He was to start in business as soon as possible, and makefrequent reports of his progress to Mr. Chelm. Meanwhile I sat withinhearing distance, and occasionally took a peep at them from my coign ofvantage. I could perceive from Mr. Chelm's manner that he was pleasedwith the tone and alertness of the other in putting matters into shape. He had shown me beforehand certain letters which he had received inanswer to inquiries made regarding Mr. Prime. In these he was spoken ofas a young man of irreproachable character but strong social tastes, which, while consistent with his own statement of what the world thoughtof him, did not serve to re-assure Mr. Chelm as to the success of myexperiment. So it was consoling to me to see his expression continuebenignant as he listened to the young banker's notions. 

When at last Mr. Prime was gone, I indulged my hilarity freely at myfriend's expense. "A lawyer, too!" I cried, when I could speak. "Yourreputation in my eyes is ruined forever. "

"I have no excuse to offer. It was a dreadful slip, Miss Harlan. "

"The slip was unpardonable of course; but it was an accident. No, what Irefer to, Mr. Chelm, is the marvellous invention by which you sought toconceal it. I fully expected to see the floor open, and some demon carryyou off amid smoke and sulphur. "

"I never stick at a trifle like that, " laughed he. "But didn't I do thething well? He believed every word of it. And what is more, MissHarlan, " he added seriously, "it would have been a great pity to havelet him decline. He is a likely young fellow. I smell wedding-cake inthe air already. "

"You forget, Mr. Chelm, " I answered, "that I am an eccentric maiden-ladyof sixty-five. You have ruined any material there may have been out ofwhich to manufacture a romance. "

 * * * * *

This turn of affairs took place a few days before the unpleasant scenewith Aunt Agnes occurred, to which I have alluded, and I found that itabsorbed my thoughts and tended to counteract the despondency producedby her displeasure and the injustice of her friends. All through theremainder of the season I awaited with eagerness the monthly reportssent by Mr. Prime. He was established, and cautiously feeling his way. But necessarily there was little to tell; a fortune cannot be made in aminute. However, I cherished every word of encouragement as so muchvindication of my faith; and I came by degrees to feel as though Mr. Prime's new enterprise were my own business, and that my reputation forsagacity were dependent upon his success. 

And yet, as I have already implied, Mr. Prime was nothing to me exceptso far as he represented an instrument of my will. It was not in himthat I was interested half so much as in myself. In order to satisfy mycuriosity, I even planned in the spring a trip to New York with AuntHelen, and delighted my eyes with a glimpse of the sign-board over thespacious offices of Francis Prime and Company. But on that day it wasveritably a glimpse that I got, for I was too timid to take a deliberatescrutiny of what I had come to see, owing to the fact that every one Imet stared at me; and then too I was momentarily upset by perceivingover the way just opposite, in great gilt letters, the rival sign, as itseemed to me, of "Roger Dale, Banker and Broker. " Mr. Dale I had notseen for several years, but I knew that he was living in New York, wherehe had not long before married an heiress of obscure antecedents, according to rumor. That it was he I had little doubt; and though thefact of his having an office in the same street could not of courseaffect, either for evil or otherwise, the interests of my protégé, I hadan indefinable feeling of dread at perceiving they were so near to oneanother. It was therefore doubly necessary for me to be careful in mysubsequent expeditions down-town, not only to dress in such a quietunfashionable manner as not to attract the attention of passers, but soas to escape recognition from my former admirer. 

After the first impression of unpleasantness I felt a little added zeston account of this element of risk, especially when on inquiry I learnedthat Roger Dale was rated as one of the most successful and enterprisingof the younger banking firms in the city. I saw his advertisements inthe newspapers, and gathered from current talk that he was doing a largeand lucrative business. I was glad to know that he was happy andprosperous at last, for he had failed once before leaving home, though Inever heard of it until a long while after; and under the influence ofthis mood any vestige of ill-will that may have been lurking in my minddied away, and I came to regard the rival sign with perfect equanimityfrom behind the thick veil by which I concealed my features. Instigatedby a spirit of caution to make my disguise as complete as possible, Ipurchased at a cheap clothing-store some garments that did much towardsrendering my personal appearance the very opposite of stylish. I eventried to give them a soiled and worn aspect, by means of experiments athome, so that I might pass for a female clerk or needy bushel-woman, and be free to pursue my investigations unobserved. In this guise Ispent a number of days in wandering about the business streets of thecity, attentive not only to what went on in the offices of Francis Primeand Company and Roger Dale, but to the countless sights and sounds ofbustling trade, which I experienced now for the first time. At first Idid not dare to appear too frequently in the street which was the centreof my interest, but a dangerous fascination led me to become bolder andmore adventurous as I became familiar with the surroundings. From underthe obscurity of arches and from behind pillars I noted daily whoentered the doors of the new firm, and endeavored to get an idea of theamount of business that it transacted. In this respect I was somewhatdisappointed, for although customers were by no means lacking, there wasa dearth of patronage as compared with that enjoyed by the banking-houseacross the street. During the morning hours there was an incessantstream of people coming and going up and down the marble steps of thegreat building on the first floor of which were the offices of RogerDale; and by far the larger proportion of this number went no farther, for I could see them through the broad plate-glass windows, chattingand grouped about a coil of tape that ran out with a snake-like movementinto a basket on the floor. There were ladies too who drove up to thedoor in their carriages and were shown into the back office, and whowhen they came out again were attended by Mr. Dale himself, bowingobsequiously. He was stouter than when I saw him last, and quite bald;and he had a different suit of a prominent check-pattern for every dayin the week. He seemed immensely popular with his customers, and wasslapped by them on the back incessantly, and most of them he slappedback in return. But toward certain individuals he adopted a quitedifferent style of behavior; for he listened to what they said withdeference, gave them the most comfortable seat in the office, and openedthe door for them when they went away. These I judged to be capitalistsand men of influence, whose business he wished to secure. Some of themnever came again, but others would return in the afternoon and becloseted with him for hours. 

To all this I could not help giving attention, for it was forced on me, as I have indicated, by way of contrast to the style of business thatwas done by the firm to which my faith was pinned. Indeed I felt badlysometimes, and wondered if it could be that my hero were lacking inenterprise and what the world calls "push. " But as I observed moreclosely, I dismissed this suspicion as unjust; for I began to note thatone or two of the grave, important-looking men whom Roger Dale treatedwith so much suavity, were much more frequent visitors over the way. Besides, the plate-glass windows were very small, and it was next toimpossible to see what went on inside. Mr. Prime always stayed at hisoffice until nearly six o'clock, and once or twice he was still at workat his desk when the darkness drove me home. In these afternoon hoursthe street was nearly deserted, and sometimes I ventured close up to thewindow and peered through. I could see him in a little inner office, writing and poring over papers and accounts. Once while I was thusoccupied, a policeman greatly alarmed me by tapping me on the shoulderand observing roughly, "Now then, young woman, move on. "

After this I felt the necessity of using more discretion; and lest thisnarration may prejudice the judicious too strongly against me, let it besaid that I passed in all only some eight or ten days in this mannerduring the six weeks Aunt Helen and I were in New York together. Perhaps, however, this was due somewhat to the difficulty I found inevading her eagle eye, for owing to the necessary changes in my dress Ihad to invent some excuse commensurate with such a dilapidatedappearance. As excursions among the poor twice a week could notseem improbable, I let them account for the plain stuff-gown andunfashionable hat that I wore on the occasion of my down-town visits, and limited myself accordingly. Aunt Helen really shed tears at firstbecause I looked so like a guy; but when I represented to her that itwould be cruel to flaunt silks and satins in the faces of those to whomsuch luxuries were forbidden, to say nothing of the risk one ran ofbeing insulted if gaudily attired, she withdrew her objections. "Butonly think, " said she, "if any of your acquaintances should see yourigged out like that! It could not fail to strike the Honorable ErnestFerroll as exceedingly peculiar at the best. "

IV. 

Although I had striven to keep our visit to New York a secret, itwas hardly to be expected, in view of my quasi celebrity at home asa society character, coupled with my Aunt's eagerness for amusement, that our presence would long escape detection. As a fact, before theend of the first week we were inundated with invitations, many ofwhich it was impossible to decline; and I finally gave up the struggle, and suffered myself to become a facile tool in the hands of my friendsafter night-fall, reserving merely the day-time for my financialinvestigations. I was the more willing to submit to this social demand, because I had a hope that I might meet with Mr. Prime at some of thehouses to which we were asked. But though I constantly recognized, witha sense of danger that was yet delicious, faces that I had becomefamiliar with down-town, his was never among them. I made no inquiries, but the mystery of his absence was finally explained. 

"Miss Harlan, " said my hostess to me at a brilliant dinner-party, "I hadhoped to be able to present to you this evening my friend Mr. FrancisPrime, who is altogether charming; but he writes me that he is not goinganywhere this winter: he has in fact given himself up for the time beingto business, and cannot break his rule even for me. Everybody islaughing over the idea of his doing anything except make himselfagreeable. As he isn't here, let me tell you he is the worst flirt intown; and we all rather hope he won't succeed, for he fills his niche toperfection, --which is paying him a high compliment, I think. But thereare other attractive men in the world besides Mr. Prime, and I am goingto ask you, by and by, to tell me your opinion of our new Englishman, who is to take you in to dinner. He is only the Honorable Ernest Ferrollat present, but when his uncle dies he will be Duke of Clyde, my dear, and _on dit_ he is looking for a wife. "

I found the Honorable Ernest decidedly agreeable. He had a fine figure, was six feet high, with blue eyes and a luxuriant chestnut beard. In histhirty years he had lived and travelled everywhere, reserving theStates, as he called them, for a final jaunt preparatory to settlingdown. He was making merely a flying trip through the seaboard citiesafter a preliminary canter at Newport, previous to doing California andsome big hunting in the "Rockies;" but later he intended to return andspend a season in New York and Boston society. His name was, for themoment, on every one's lips, and there was much quiet maternal inquiryas to how long the old peer was likely to last; for the Honorable Ernestwas said to be rather short of money. 

"He has a fine forehead, and if one likes beards, his is certainly ahandsome specimen, " said Aunt Helen ruminantly, as we were driving home. "I have no fancy for them myself, but it is always possible to shavethem off; that's one comfort. "

I divined of whom she was speaking, but made no response. 

"How did you like him, Virginia?"

"Mr. Ferroll? I found him very entertaining, " I replied. 

"I thought he seemed decidedly impressed by you. He scarcely kept hiseyes off you all through dinner. I don't blame him, for you were lookingyour best. Duchess of Clyde! You might do worse, Virginia. They say heis anxious to marry. "

"So Mrs. Tremaine informed me. "

"Did she really? That was very amiable of her, especially as you are astranger, and there must be plenty of girls in whom she is interested, who are setting their caps for him. I could not help thinking at dinnerwhat a handsome pair you would make. "

"One would suppose you were in earnest from your serious tone, AuntHelen. "

"And so I am, so I am, quite in earnest. Of course I should wish to knowa little more definitely about him before anything final was arranged. But from what I hear, there can be no question in regard to his title. If there were the slightest suspicion of anything out of the wayconcerning it, he would never have been at Mrs. Tremaine's, who is avery particular woman, and knows what she knows. He seems, so far as Icould judge, to be a manly, right-minded young man. He told me that heshot three tigers in India, and I observed that he took scarcely anywine at dinner. It won't do though, Virginia, to dilly-dally, for I amgiven to understand that he leaves in a fortnight for California, toexplore the West. But he is coming back to spend several months nextwinter, and if you do not throw cold water on him now, he may feeldisposed to run on to Boston, in spite of the efforts that will be madeto keep him here. "

"I feel very certain, " said I, "that he will come to Boston for a fewdays, as he has letters to Aunt Agnes. "

"To your Aunt Agnes? What do you mean, child?" In her astonishment Ithought she was going to bounce out of the carriage. 

"I don't wonder you are surprised. Yes, the first question he asked wasif I were not the niece of Miss Agnes Harlan, of Boston. It seems thatshe and his father made an ocean passage together a great many yearsago, when they were both young, and the acquaintance has been kept up bycorrespondence ever since. "

"Mercy on us! Your Aunt Agnes has never said a word to me about it. "

"The Honorable Ernest's father is quite literary, and has written one ortwo books on philosophy, his son says. "

"That accounts for it, of course. Well, well! to think of your AuntAgnes being intimate with one of the nobility, and having nevermentioned the subject! I have always given her credit for being anagreeable woman at bottom, if one could only forget her eccentricities. But this is extremely fortunate for you, Virginia. To be sure, there isno knowing how your Aunt will receive him, she is so hostile to everyone who is not as queer as herself. But she must see, if she is not afool, what a very advantageous match this would be for you. It could dono harm just to drop Mr. Ferroll a hint to humor her a little, and seemfond of serious subjects at the start, for if she should happen to takeit into her head to ask him to stay at her house it would be veryconvenient. "

These sentiments were frequently reiterated by Aunt Helen during theremaining weeks of our visit, and it must be allowed that the attentionsof the Honorable Ernest soon justified her urgency, seeing that shereally believed it was a matter of vital importance for me to become thefuture Duchess of Clyde. Nor was I at all sure myself, that if nothingelse turned up I might not be tempted by the brilliancy of such aposition. Not that I thought about it quite so definitely; but I wasconscious of the exceptional advantages incident to high rank inEngland, to the extent that I did not treat his gallantries with markedindifference. I let him reveal himself for what he was, which is notpossible without a certain degree of intimacy. Beneath his conventionalways I discovered a great deal of energy and decision. He was well-read, and had his own opinions. On many of the days when I did not godown-town, I took strolls with him in the Park and elsewhere. Wediscussed all sorts and kinds of subjects. We did not often agree, butthat rather added to the interest of our intercourse than otherwise. Iwas a curiosity to him, he said. He complained that I was too radicaland visionary in my ideas, and that I was quite different from hisconception of American girls. To be sure, he said, I was ready to dothings, --that is, go to walk with him, and banish Aunt Helen when hecalled; but he had been told that American girls knew nothing aboutpolitics or any serious matters, and were principally interested in thestudy of their inner consciousness as affected by man; whereas I wasperpetually taking issue with him on questions of government policy andpauperism, driving him into holes in regard to the value of anhereditary nobility and the dis-establishment of the English Church. Women at home were not like that, he said. The men told them what tobelieve, and they stuck to it through thick and thin; but voluntaryfeminine ratiocination was the rarest thing in the world among hiscountrywomen. As for himself, he was a conservative, --a conservativewithout money. Money was all he needed to build up the splendid estatesof Clyde, which had been slowly decaying for this lack during twogenerations. His chief ambition was to retouch and refurbish the broaddomain of his inheritance, so that its lordly manors, ivy-mantledabbeys, and green meadows might know again the peace, poetry, andprosperity of an ideal English home. There would then for the lord ofClyde be happiness and romance equalled by none on earth. For, eager tobenefit his fellow-men, he would have within the radius of his ownestate a hundred cabins to call in play his invention or humanity; andwith one's conscience at rest, he said, could there be a purer joy thanto wander with her of one's choice under the ancestral elms of oldEngland, with the September moon o'erhead?

This was the Honorable Ernest's dream; but to realize it, he must makemoney. He had come to the States, so he told me when we grew moreintimate, in order to seek it. There were great chances in the far Westfor a shrewd man with a little capital, and to find some investment thatpromised large returns was the real object of his journey thither. Already, even since his arrival in New York, he had done extremelywell. There was a smart (so he had heard him called) young fellow whohad put him into several profitable speculations: very likely I mightknow him, --Roger Dale was his name; every one said he had made a lot ofmoney, and was one of the coming men of Wall Street. I was kindly toconsider this as a confidence, for he did not care to have it noisedabout that he was other than an idler here. 

The Honorable Ernest Ferroll's attentions, as I have implied, grew apacefrom the evening of our introduction, and soon attracted remark. Therewas an instant recognition of the fitness of the match even fromthe most envious, and Aunt Helen was the recipient of numerouscongratulatory innuendoes. The circumstance of his delaying the date ofhis journey a week confirmed the general impression of his seriousviews, and even I began to feel some pangs of conscience on the score ofallowing him to fancy that if he did come to the point I should accepthim eagerly. In contemplation of this emergency I felt that it was timefor me to go home. We both would then have six months in which to thinkit over. When he should return from the West, it would be time enoughfor me to come to a decision as to whether I desired to re-gild thepoetry of his English home. I was certain that if he insisted on animmediate answer my reply would be unfavorable. But I much preferred todefer any definite proposal; and accordingly, with all the tact at mycommand, I tried to avoid giving him an opportunity of being left alonewith me for any length of time, without making it noticeable to him. Finally, as he seemed likely to become unmanageable despite myprecautions, and as he put off again and again his day of departure, Iresolved to take refuge in flight. 

When I communicated this to Aunt Helen she said I was crazy. The ideaof returning home just on the eve of realization seemed to herpreposterous; she would not hear of it. But I was equally firm, andannounced my intention of leaving on the morrow. 

But before I went, I wished to have one more glimpse of the condition ofthe banking-house of Francis Prime and Company; and in order to make myscrutiny as thorough as possible I planned not to return until dark. Iwas curious to get a close look at my hero, and this seemed mostfeasible when he was leaving the office for the day. At that time therewould be little likelihood of any one noticing me, if I stood by thedoor as he came out. 

The afternoon passed without incident, save that I saw the HonorableErnest Ferroll go into Mr. Dale's office, where he remained some time. He happened to meet me face to face on the street, but I justly hadacquired by this time complete faith in my disguise. He betrayed no signof recognition, and the flush that rose to my cheeks was a badge ofquite unnecessary alarm. The hours slipped by, and the street grewstill. The gas was lighted in the inner offices, and few but clerks, figuring up the profits or losses of the day, were left down-town. Itwas getting dark, and I was growing impatient. I sat down in thedoor-way of the building next adjoining, to rest. I had purposely mademyself look as dilapidated as possible, and the natural presumption inthe mind of any one would have been that I was friendless and needy, forI felt tired enough to make a weary air very natural at the moment. 

As it chanced, my old enemy the policeman came sauntering by, and hiscold eye fell on me with a chilling scrutiny. He stopped and said:--

"Didn't I tell you to move on, young woman? We don't want the likes ofyou loafing about here. "

"I am tired and resting. I am waiting for some one, " I answered, toomuch alarmed to take much account of my words. 

"Yes, I dare say. He's forgotten to keep his engagement, and has gonehome for the day. He asked me himself to tell you so. Come, move on, anddon't let me see you hanging around any more, or I'll find an engagementfor you that will last sixty days. Come, march!"

"Sir!" I exclaimed in a tone of indignation, having partially recoveredmy presence of mind, "what right have you to insult a lady? I tell you Ihave business here. If you don't instantly leave me, I will have youdischarged to-morrow!"

"Do, my beauty! and lest you should oversleep yourself in the morning, and not be on hand to keep your word, come with me now. "

He reached out his hand to seize me by the arm, and all my fearsreturned. But at that instant I heard a voice, and to my mingled reliefand consternation the face of Francis Prime appeared over my tormentor'sshoulder. 

"What is the matter, officer?"

"Nothing, your honor, except this here young woman. She's for reportingme, she is, and losing me my situation. But as I happen to have seenher congregating by herself mostly every day for the past fortnightaround these offices, I thought I'd run her in as a disreputable lot, and we'd see who's who. "

"Oh, sir!--Mr. Prime!" I cried, forgetting my discretion in theexcitement of the moment, "don't let him take me off! What he says isn'ttrue. I'm a lady--that is, a poor girl who's perfectly honest, and istrying to earn her living. "

"A nice lady you are, trying to lose hardworking folks theirsituations!"

"You called me by name, " said Mr. Prime. "Do you know me? Come hereIke!" The dog was sniffing around my feet. 

"Yes, sir--no--that is, I have seen you come out of your office. "

He looked at me searchingly, and turned to the policeman. "What was shedoing when you arrested her?"

"Indeed, sir, " I broke in, "I was merely sitting here resting myself, when this--this man spoke to me. I was doing nothing wrong. "

"You hear what she says, officer. What is your charge against her?"

"Promiscuous and unlawful congregating by herself, your Honor. When ayoung woman as swears she's honest, goes peeking into other folks'swindows after dark, I always has my suspicions, --as you would too, ifyou had been in the business as long as I have. It wa'n't more than aweek ago that I caught her with her nose against that plate-glass windowof yours, and I told her then to move on. But she didn't; and the nextthing we shall be hearing some fine morning, that there's been breakingand entering done. "

Frightened as I was, I could not help blushing. 

"Why were you looking into my office?" said Mr. Prime. "It doesn't seema very serious offence, " he added, turning to the officer. 

"It ain't murder, and it ain't arson, that's flat, " observed thatfunctionary; "but we don't draw no such fine distinctions in ourprofession. If we did, the judges would have nothing to do. "

The colloquy gave me time to think up an answer. I was in a tight place, and it would not do to mince matters. Mr. Prime turned back to me withan air of inquiry. 

"I was wondering, sir, when I looked into your window, if there were anyuse in my applying for work. "

"Are you in want?" he asked. 

"I am trying to find a place. I am without occupation at present. Thetimes are so hard it is almost impossible for an honest girl to findanything to do. I only want a chance. "

He looked at me with a closer interest. Of course my voice and myfeatures, after the first impression produced by my needy dress, musthave puzzled an observer so intelligent as Mr. Prime. 

"I believe the girl's story, " he said to the policeman. "I feel sure sheis honest. "

The man shrugged his shoulders. "A moment ago it was she was a lady, andwaiting for somebody. But I ain't particular, if you are ready to gobail for the young woman. Of course I'm only doing my duty; and if youare satisfied, your Honor, don't blame me if you find your watch missingbefore you get home. I always keep a pair of twisters alongside of mine;and that's why I thought she might be safer with me than with you. "

With this oracular utterance, the official turned on his heel anddeparted, to my intense relief. I was fairly overcome with dread andmortification, and my eyes fell under the interested look of my rescuer. 

"You seem distressed and tired, poor girl. This street is no place foryou at such an hour. You say you are in search of work?"

"Yes, sir, " I answered faintly. 

"Humph! Can you write?"

"Oh, yes, sir. "

"Come to my office then, to-morrow morning, and I may be able to findsomething for you to do. And now go home as fast as you can. Stop, hereis a trifle for your fare. Good-night. "

He raised his hat in recognition of the grateful glance from my eyes. Mycheeks had felt like live coals as I took the coin he held out to me. But I chose to continue the deception. It was harmless; and to disclosethe fact that I was other than I seemed would only make matters worse. There was too, even while he was still present, an element of amusementto me in the whole affair, which when he was gone, and I knew that I wasout of danger, speedily became predominant in my mind. Here was anopportunity sent by Providence to supervise my banking scheme withoutrisk of discovery, if only I had the courage to take advantage of it. The idea pleased me the more I thought it over, for I had little doubtthat Mr. Prime intended to find employment for me in his own office. Ifelt that it would amuse me immensely to become a female clerk for a fewweeks and see the practical working of a business house, and above allothers of this particular one. I felt sure that I could prove myselftolerably useful as well, thanks to my experience under Mr. Chelm; andthere was no knowing what might come of it all if I should develop ataste for banking. The world's opinion to the contrary notwithstanding, I might take it into my head to reveal my identity, and become an activepartner in the concern. 

Even to such extremes did my imagination carry me before I reached home. But I was clear in my mind about one thing. I meant to present myself atthe office in the morning, and if the chance were given me, toapprentice myself for a while. It was indeed a strange freak of destiny, that he should have been confronted by me with the same appeal that Ihad heard him make so short a time ago. Perhaps it were better called astrange freak of my caprice, for though of course my position was notpremeditated, the words that I said to him were necessarily suggested bythe analogy of the situation. I felt therefore an obligation to let hishumanity work itself out, --which gave comfort and encouragement to myquixotism. 

The only obstacles of serious importance to this step would be thedifficulty of disposing of Aunt Helen, and as a corollary thereto thenecessity of some slight deceit on my part to account for my continuancein New York. But having gone so far in the matter, I did not suffermyself to be deterred by trifles. I had, in speaking of our return toAunt Helen this morning, dwelt on the importance of not leaving certaindomestic affairs longer unattended to; and it now occurred to me tocompromise with her by suggesting that she should go home, and leave mewith my maid in our lodgings, which were well known to her as thoroughlyquiet and respectable. As was perhaps to be expected, she resisted thisproposal energetically; but as I was resolved to get rid of her at anycost, I took an obstinate stand, against which tears and flattery wereequally unavailing. I made her return a condition of my remaining;otherwise I should leave the Honorable Ernest to the mercy of themaidens of New York. She must take her choice. If she decided to stay Ishould go home; and the only possible chance of my becoming Duchess ofClyde rested on her going home without me. The alternative was toodreadful for her to withstand my pertinacity. She wished me to remain, and rather than have her matrimonial project blocked she preferred toyield, though it was not until she had made a last appeal on the scoreof the extreme impropriety of my continuing to stay in New York alone. 

When she had finally consented to take her departure, I wrote a note tothe Honorable Ernest and to one or two other friends, announcing that wehad suddenly been called home, and then I sat up far into the nightputting my new-fangled wardrobe into a plausible condition. To bepatched but neat seemed to me the most endurable and ingratiating, andat the same time an equally secure guise in which to figure, and Idevoted my energies to accomplishing that result before morning. On thatsame day also, to my great relief, I succeeded in bundling off AuntHelen without further ado, and the field was cleared for operations. Ishould have to trust my maid to some extent, and possibly to change mylodgings; but otherwise I had swept away all obstacles to the indulgenceof this new piece of eccentricity. 

It occurred to me, on the way down-town, that Mr. Prime would doubtlessmake some inquiries as to my previous history and present circumstances, and that I must go a step further and concoct some rational story inorder to carry out my deception successfully. I was correct in mysurmise. He received me with kindness, and showing me into hisprivate office asked a few direct questions, which I answered to hissatisfaction seemingly. I represented myself as one of that much-to-bepitied class, referred to by Mr. Chelm, of well-educated but impecuniousyoung people, who only needed employment to be comfortable and happy. Ihad no parents, nor brothers and sisters, and up to this time hadsupported myself by teaching and by copying; but the stress of the timeshad little by little cut off the sources of my income, and when he metme yesterday I had sunk down exhausted and in despair over the prospectof finding anything to do. Such was my pitiful tale. 

Fortunately my handwriting did not require to be explained away ordisguised like the rest of me. It spoke for itself, being legible andbold, somewhat resembling a man's in the latter particular. Mr. Primelooked pleased as he glanced at the specimen I prepared for hisinspection, and I felt that the battle was won. A few minutes later Iwas engaged as a confidential clerk at a modest salary. My duties forthe time were to answer letters, and to copy out and arrange sets offigures at his direction; and he suggested that I should as soon aspossible learn short-hand. 

I could scarcely help laughing aloud as I sat and tried to realize mynew position. Mr. Prime's business was as yet, I soon perceived, lamentably small. The office was commodious, but my employer had besidesme only a book-keeper to help him, --a gaunt, withered-looking man ofsixty. This personage glanced at me now and again over his spectaclessuspiciously, and would, I dare say, have joined hands with my enemy thepolice officer, as to the probabilities affecting my moral character. Everything else was done by Mr. Prime, who I was pleased to notice wasas spruce as ever in his personal appearance. His gloves, his boots, hiscravats, and Ike, the beautifully ugly Ike, were as irreproachable asever. 

It is wonderful how easily one grows accustomed to almost any change ofcircumstances. Of course the first few days of my new life wereexcessively strange, and I passed through various stages of alarm andmortification at my own hardihood in entering upon it. But after thefirst week I settled down to my work with interest and composure, nolonger disturbed by a fear of detection. For so skilful was my disguisethat during that time I ran the gantlet of the glances both of RogerDale and the Honorable Ernest, without exciting the suspicions ofeither. I am not sure that the former did not feel as if he had seen myface before, for he stared at me wonderingly, as it seemed to me, andfor a moment I feared that all was over; but he turned carelessly away, and observed to my employer, loud enough for his words to reach myears, --

"Nice looking girl that, Prime. If you don't look out, I'll offer herdouble the salary across the street. "

This observation directed all eyes to me, for there were several men inthe group, and among them my English admirer; but in his case, at least, the adage regarding the blindness of Cupid was strikingly illustrated, for though he examined me through his lorgnette with evident admiration, he contented himself with echoing the sentiments of his financial guide, only a little more euphemistically:--

"She's a daisy, Prime, a daisy. Reminds me too of some girl I've seensomewhere. I've travelled so much, and seen so many girls, I'm alwaysnoticing likenesses. Jolly expression that, 'She's a daisy. ' Only heardit yesterday; but I'm 'catching on' fast. How's Denver to-day?"

The Honorable Ernest seemed in truth to be "catching on" fast. From theremarks that were let fall by persons in the office, I judged that hemust have made a great deal of money already under the tuition of RogerDale. The success of the latter was on every one's lips. He was coiningthousands daily, and was as shrewd as he was successful, according tothe verdict of those whose sayings I overheard. He was not very often inour office, and I was glad to see that no intimacy existed between himand Mr. Prime. Hints dropped in my presence by some of our less flightylooking customers revealed to me the fact that there were those whopredicted for him a fall as rapid as had been his rise. But I could nothelp feeling a little of my former jealousy return, as I noted how slackand unprofitable our business was compared with his. 

I tried my best to make myself of use; and my efforts were quicklyappreciated, for new and more important work was intrusted to me, underthe pressure of which I felt at first completely tired out at night, andthankful to get to bed. As regards my domestic arrangements, I decidedfinally not to change my lodgings, but by dint of explicit instructionsto my landlady and maid, I managed to have my presence in the houseconcealed from those of my acquaintances who called. There are always acertain number of people who do not hear one is in town until after onehas left. It was against such that I needed to take precautions; andafter the impression was duly established that I was really gone, Ibreathed freely once more, and gave myself up to my business with littleconcern as to the discovery of my innocent deceit. I had to frame suchreplies to Aunt Helen's letters and questions as the sensitiveness of myconscience would permit. 

Mr. Prime, in his effort to build up his business, was evidently mostdiligent and painstaking, and, as I had observed during my earlyinvestigations, usually stayed at the office until late. Of course Inever left before him, and perhaps it was not unnatural that after atime we got into the way of walking up-town together. One day hehappened to come back for something just as I was setting out, and hewalked along by my side. Our ways lay in the same direction, and it wasthe habit of each of us to walk home for the sake of the exercise. Itseemed to me in no way dangerous or unfitting that I should be otherwisethan at ease in my conversation with Mr. Prime; indeed, I was soonconscious of a desire to mystify him by giving him a glimpse of myacquirements. I branched off from the current events of the day topoetry and art, and to my gratification I found that I had touched asympathetic chord in my companion, which not even wonder could restrainfrom responding. After this it became Mr. Prime's wont to wait for meoccasionally, and by the time I had been in his employ six weeks, thisbecame his daily practice. Our intimacy was a curious one, for of coursewe avoided all personal and social topics, --I from necessity, and hedoubtless because of the difference in our positions which he supposedto exist. But on this very account I got a truer impression of his realself, for he did not feel the hamper of conventions in our talk, andhence was not affected. He said freely what he thought and believed; andunderneath the tendency to regard everything in a mezzo-cynical, mezzo-humorous light there cropped out from time to time evidences ofhis earnestness and enthusiasm, which as our friendship strengthenedwere less and less subordinated to raillery and chaff. Not a whitinferior in cultivation to myself, he possessed besides a keen analyticsense which I envied, especially as I felt that it did not steel himagainst ideal considerations. 

Meanwhile my usefulness at the office was constantly increasing; for myemployer now made me devote my time to various sorts of financialmatters, and I could see plainly that he was puzzled at my aptness. Heexpressed the belief that I must have had experience elsewhere, for Iacted, he said, as if I had been accustomed to handle large sums all mylife. He offered presently to raise my salary, but I declared that whatI received was sufficient for my needs. Much of the time I could seethat Mr. Prime was worried, for business though active was in anunsettled state, and I knew from the books that already his capital wassomewhat impaired. As I have mentioned, he was studiously devoted to hiswork, and the only recreation he allowed himself was his daily walk withme. I often heard Mr. Slayback, our book-keeper, into whose good gracesI managed to ingratiate myself at the end of a fortnight, sigh over theunremitting industry of our employer, and declare that he would breakdown in health before a twelve-month was past. 

"He will succeed first, and then he can afford to be an invalid, " Ianswered; but acting on the old man's solicitude, I did all I could tolighten the load. 

One afternoon, as we were walking home, I noticed that Mr. Prime seemedespecially grave and moody, and I ventured to inquire if anythingserious had happened. 

"Oh, no; a mere trifling loss, that is unimportant in itself, but servesto impress upon me still more deeply how easy it is to imagine anddifficult to perform, " he answered. "It seems the simplest thing in theworld to make a fortune honestly, until one attempts it. "

"But why are you so anxious to make a fortune?" I asked after a silence. 

"Anxious to make a fortune? Because it is my ambition; because I havealways had the desire to try and spend a fortune well. Money is thegreatest power in the world, and every man who is strong and vital seeksto acquire it. Why did you ask?"

"I have sometimes thought that a large fortune would be an unwelcomeresponsibility, " I said, noticing how much his words resembled what myfather had said to me. "It would be so puzzling, I should think, tospend it wisely. "

"And for that reason, would you have men afraid to try? How else is theworld to progress? Those who have leisure to think, are those to setmankind an example, " he replied, with a fierceness that made his faceglow. 

My own heart welled to my lips at my companion's fervor. He however, ashamed as it were at the extravagance into which he had been betrayed, turned the conversation with some careless jest, and for the rest of theafternoon talked a badinage that did not deceive me. 

"At least, let me say that I am very sorry you are worried, " I added. 

In the indulgence of his subsequent gayety, I noticed that Mr. Primeseemed to play the dandy more consummately than usual, as though he werereflecting that come what might he would go down as he had declared, with a smile on his face and a flawless coat on his back. I had neverknown him to be more amusing and nonchalant than in the half hour whichfollowed his previous outburst. When we reached a flower-stand at thecorner of the streets where our ways divided, he asked me to wait aminute, and, selecting a boutonière and a beautiful white rose, hepresented the latter to me. 

"You have saved me from much weariness during the past two months, MissBailey, " he said. "This flower may brighten the dinginess of yourlodgings. "

Alice Bailey was the name by which I was known to Mr. Prime. I was freeto take his words in any sense I chose, and believe that they hadreference to my work at the office or to my companionship, or to both. In acknowledgment of his politeness I dropped a little curtsy, as Imight have done to any one of my real acquaintances on a similaroccasion; and as I did so, I noticed that he regarded me with a strangelook of admiration. 

"You did that, " said he, "as if you had never done anything else; andyet, I dare say you were never in a ball-room in your life. "

"Never, " I answered with a smile. 

"Adaptiveness, that is the word. Our people are so adaptive. But thereis something about you that puzzles me more every day, Miss Bailey. Excuse my detaining you, but I am in a philosophical vein for the momentand need an audience. I would walk home with you, but you have alwaysforbidden me that pleasure. Frankly, you have puzzled me; and thatcurtsy caps the climax. There are certain things adaptiveness cannotaccomplish, and that is one of them. "

"Have you no faith in the child of Nature?" I asked archly. 

"I had none in that sense a few moments ago, but all my theories arefalling to the ground. Forbear though, Miss Bailey, " he said with asudden air of sportive mystery, "you cannot afford to ruin your chancesof success for the sake of a merely ornamental gift. You play the_grande dame_ so well, that you are sure to reap the penalty of it. Forbear, I warn you, before it is too late. I know of what I speak. Ihave been a gentleman for years, and I am acquainted with all the insand outs of the calling. It is a poor one; avoid it. But you will pardonthis somewhat lengthy monologue. I have kept you from your supper. Good-night. Come, Ike. "

As I tripped across the street, with all the grace and elegance at mycommand, I could not resist the temptation to look once over myshoulder. Mr. Prime stood watching me just where I had left him, and heraised his hat as he caught my eye, with the style of a cavaliersaluting his mistress. A pretty way forsooth, thought I, for anaristocratic banker to part from his hired clerk! But I felt sure thatmy secret was safe. 

Our relations were from this day on a different footing, or rather itwas apparent to me that Mr. Prime was very partial to my society. Iremember that he asked me to walk with him on the following Sunday, andwe spent the beautiful spring morning in sauntering about the Park. Ifelt a little sorry for my companion that I should have to appear sounfashionably attired, but I did not dare to do otherwise. He seemedwholly indifferent to the circumstance, however, and I think the hoursflew by too quickly for us both. I ascribed my own sensations ofhappiness to the loveliness of the weather. 

So too it became of frequent occurrence for Mr. Prime to bring meflowers or books, and our Sunday stroll was repeated again and again. Asthe weather grew more balmy we substituted for it expeditions to thevarious resorts in the environs of the city, where we could catch awhiff of the ocean breeze, or refresh our eyes with a glimpse of thegreen country. These days were so pleasant to me that I avoided thinkingwhat was to be the outcome of them. They could not last forever. Already Aunt Helen's letters expressed an alarm at my long absence, which I was only too well aware I should soon find it impossible toallay. My salvation was the fact that she believed Mr. Ferroll to bestill in town: I had failed to tell her of his departure for the Westabout ten days after she left. To my letters to her, which werenecessarily laconic, I appended as an invariable postscript, "Not yet, "by which she would understand that he had not yet put the decisivequestion; and sometimes when I feared lest her patience might beexhausted, I would add, "but I have hopes, " which was sure to reconcileher for the time being to my staying away a little longer. To be sure Iwas my own mistress, but I was well aware, notwithstanding, that AuntHelen was fully capable of coming on some fine day, with horse, foot, and dragoons, and putting a summary end to my financial idyl. 

I began also to put the question to myself, why I wished to remain inNew York. I had accomplished all that was possible, without revealing myidentity, in the way of supervising the affairs of Francis Prime andCompany. It was clearer to me than ever that a fortune could only bemade by slow degrees, and that years must elapse doubtless before myprotégé would attain his ambition. The letters forwarded by Mr. Chelm, and my own observations on the spot, told me that the affairs of thefirm were only moderately prosperous. Especially was I convinced of thetruth of this last statement, from the fact that my employer had of latemixed himself up in certain speculations with Mr. Dale, from which hehad made profits sufficient to recoup his previous losses and still showa balance in his favor. But I knew that he, as well as I, mistrusted thesoundness of the firm across the street, and felt that in yielding tothe temptation of following its lead he was running the risk of seriouslosses. Mr. Prime confessed as much to me, and declared that after asingle venture to which he had already committed himself was terminated, he intended to have no more transactions with Roger Dale. 

It was indeed difficult to say why I still continued to remain in Mr. Prime's employ. Although, as I have indicated, I put the question tomyself sometimes, I shrank from doing so, and felt disposed to let thefuture take care of itself, provided I was permitted to enjoy thepresent undisturbed. But this was beginning to be more and moredifficult. There were interests at home which could not be longerneglected without my incurring blame. I belonged to societies and clubsat which my presence was required. Then, too, it would not be many weeksbefore the Honorable Ernest would return to pay his promised visit toAunt Agnes, and I felt far from sure that I should not make a mistake todiscourage his advances. There was a wide difference between the sphereof an Alice Bailey and the Duchess of Clyde. 

But still I delayed my return. How well I recall one Saturday afternoonin June, when as by a common instinct business men seemed to close theirdoors earlier than usual, and Mr. Prime and I set off to enjoy a halfholiday in our usual fashion. He was at the height of good spirits, forthe affair in which he was interested jointly with Roger Dale was doingwonderfully well, and the profits promised to be enormous. Absorbed inconversation, we failed to notice the close proximity of a rapidlydriven horse, from under the hoofs of which I escaped by a mere hair'sbreadth. It was a trivial incident in itself, but the exclamation whichmy companion made, and the eager impetuous way in which he expressedhimself regarding my safety, served to open my eyes to the realcondition of affairs between us. There was no use in my seeking longerto conceal from myself the reason for my remaining in New York. It wasMr. Prime's society that held me there, and decency bade me to put anend to our relations at once, but on his account far more than on myown; for while I flattered myself that my heart was untouched save bythe emotion of a warm friendship, I could not dismiss the convictionthat his feeling for me was rapidly approaching the point at whichfriendship becomes an impossibility. I must go, and immediately. It wasfoolish and culpable of me to have stayed so long. A girl in the firstblush of maidenhood might excuse herself on the score of not recognizingthe signs of a more than Platonic interest, but for me such an apologycould not be other than a subterfuge. Mr. Prime had worry enoughalready, and why add to it the pain of an unrequited attachment? I wouldgo on Monday. To-morrow we were to walk once more, and I would framesome excuse, which he would never suspect, for severing our connections. 

But parallel with these reflections was a certain element of curiosityin my mind as to whether Francis Prime would be ever so far carriedaway by his liking for me as to ask me to become his wife, --me, AliceBailey, his poor, hired clerk! I wondered that I should be especiallyinterested in the matter, for its ludicrous side was at once apparent;that is to say, the situations portrayed in cheap contemporaneousfiction, of beautiful working-girls led to the altar by the sons of richbankers, immediately suggested themselves. But nevertheless the thoughthaunted me, and I did not feel altogether the degree of contrition atthe idea of having captivated him that I perhaps should have done. If itwas not for myself alone that he loved me, what was his love worth? Ifthe lowliness of my position deterred him from asking me to marry him, Iwas wasting sympathy upon him, and taking needless precautions. The idearoused me strangely, and I found myself taking sides against myself inan imaginary debate as to the probabilities of his conduct. It madeevery vein in my body tingle, to think that birth or fortune might beable to affect his decision; and it seemed to me, as I sought my pillowthat night, that I almost hated him. 

In the morning I decided that I had probably overestimated his feelingstoward me, and that although I had better go home on the following day, there was no reason why I should treat Mr. Prime other than as usual. Hewas not in love with me; or if he were, he was not man enough toacknowledge it. I should refuse him if he did; but I hated to feel thatI had been expending so much friendship on a man whose soul could notsoar beyond birth and fortune. Had he not told me that money was thegreatest power on earth? So, too, he had said to my face that a ladycould not be made, but was born. I was irrational, and I was consciousof being irrational; but I did not care. I would make him wince atleast, and feel for a time the tortures of a love he did not dare toexpress. Ah! but such a love was not worthy of the name, and it was Iwho was become the fitting subject for the finger of derision, because Ihad put my faith in him. 

These were the thoughts that harassed me before I met Mr. Prime onSunday, and we turned our steps with tacit unanimity toward the Park. Iwalked in silence, chafing inwardly; and he too, I fancy, was nervousand self-absorbed, though I paid little heed to his emotions, so complexwere my own. We had not proceeded very far before he turned to me andsaid simply, --

"What is the matter? Have I offended you in any way?"

"Do you think then, Mr. Prime, that my thoughts must always be of you?"I answered. 

"Alas! no. But something has happened. You cannot deceive me. "

I was silent a moment. "Yes, something has happened. I am going to leaveNew York. "

"Going to leave New York!" he stopped abruptly, and looked at me withamazement. 

"Yes, " I said quietly. "My aunt has sent for me, and it is imperativethat I should go. She is in trouble and needs me. It is a long story, and one with which I will not weary you. It is not necessary that youshould be burdened with my private affairs; you have enough troubles ofyour own. Let us change the subject, please. But you will have to let mego to-morrow, Mr. Prime. I am very sorry to inconvenience you, but, as Ihave already said, it is imperative. "

My words were so cold that I could see he was puzzled, and my heartsoftened toward him a little. At least he had been kind to me. He walkedon for a few moments without speaking. We entered the Park, and turnedinto a path where we should be unobserved. 

"I have no right to inquire into your private affairs, I well know, " hesaid presently, "but I wish you would let me help you. "

"I am sure of your sympathy, Mr. Prime; and if you could be of anyservice in the matter, I would call upon you. "

"Where does your aunt live?"

"I had rather not answer that question. "

He looked grave, and as I glanced at him a frown passed over his face. "He is thinking doubtless, " thought I, "that it is I who have donesomething wrong, and am trying to mislead him; or he is reflecting howwise he was not to offer himself to a woman with whose antecedents he isunacquainted. He mistrusts me at the first hint of suspicion, and wouldsacrifice his love on the altar of conventionality. " Curiously enough, Iseemed to take it for granted that he was in love with me. 

"And you must go to-morrow?" he asked. 

"To-morrow, without fail. "

"But you will return soon?"

"I do not expect to return at all. "

"Impossible! You cannot go!" he said with a sudden outburst; but hecorrected himself in a restrained voice: "I do not mean, of course, thatyou cannot go if you choose. "

"I am quite aware, Mr. Prime, that this will cause you great annoyance, "said I. "If it were possible for me to remain until you could findanother assistant without neglecting duties that are still moreimportant, I would do so. "

He made a motion as though to wave that consideration aside. "No one cantake your place. But that is not all. Let us sit down, Miss Bailey; Ihave something to say to you. I had meant to say it very soon, but itmust be said now or never. I love you!"

I trembled like a leaf at his avowal, --I did not even yet know why. 

"I love you from the bottom of my soul, " he said once more, and now hiswords were poured out in a passionate flood, to which I listened with astrange joy that thrilled me through and through. 

"I have never loved before. You are the first, the very first woman inthe world who has ever touched my heart. I did not know what it was tolove until a few days ago, and I could not understand how friendshipshould seem so sweet. But last night, when I saw you almost trampledunder foot and swept away forever from me, I knew that what I had begunto guess, was the truth. "

"It is impossible for you to love me. I am merely a poor friendlessgirl, without fortune or position, " I murmured. 

"Yes, yes, you are; and that is the strange and wonderful part of itall. I love and adore you, in spite of theory and principle and thejudgment of wise men. But I defy their laughter and their sneers, for Ican point to you and say, 'Show me her match among the daughters of theproud and wealthy. She is the peer of any. ' I disbelieved in the powerof Nature to imitate the excellence of woman, and I am punished for mylack of faith. And how sweet and exquisite the punishment, if only, Alice, you will tell me that my prayer is granted, and that you will bemy wife. "

"Ah! but I should only be a burden to you. I can bring you nothing, noteven an untarnished name, for though you see me as I am, you do not knowwhat others whose blood is in my veins have done. "

"What is that to me?" he cried fiercely; "it is you that I love!"

"But you are striving to become rich. It is your ambition. Have you nottold me so? Money is the greatest power on earth. You said that, too. "

"And it was a lie. I had never loved. What is money to me now? But, no, I am wrong. It _is_ my ambition, and without your sympathy and affectionI shall never attain it. "

He gazed at me imploringly, and yet though my eyes were overflowing withtears in the fulness of my new-found happiness, I still shook my head. 

"Listen to me, Mr. Prime, " I said quietly, after a short silence betweenus. "I am very grateful to you--how could I be otherwise?--for what youhave said to me. Yours were the sweetest and most precious words towhich I ever listened. You have asked me to become your wife, becauseyou loved me for myself alone: that I can be sure of, since I havenothing but myself to bring you. It makes me more happy than I darethink of; but in spite of all you have said to me, I cannot accept yoursacrifice. I cannot consent to mar your hopes for the future with all Ilack. You think you love me now, and I believe you; but the time mightcome when you would see that you had made a mistake, and that would killme. I am not of your opinion as to the power of Nature to imitate theexcellence of woman. You were right at first. Ladies are born, not made;and were you to marry in the station of life in which you see me, thescales would some day drop from your eyes, and you would know that youhad been deceived by love. No, Mr. Prime, I should not be worthy tobecome your wife were I to accept your offer. The difference between usis too great, and the banker and his hired female clerk will never be onan equality to the end of the world. I am sorry--ah, so sorry!--to woundyou thus, but I cannot permit you to throw your life away. "

"Then you do not love me?" he asked, with a piteous cry. 

"Love you?" I gave a little joyous laugh before I said, "I shall neverlove any one else in the world. "

It would take too long to repeat the efforts Mr. Prime made to lead meto reconsider my resolution. Meanwhile I was racking my brains to find away of letting matters rest without depriving him utterly of hope. As hesaid, the knowledge that my heart was his only increased the bitternessof his despair. Happy as I was, I felt bewildered and uncertain. Ishrank instinctively from revealing my identity at once. I wanted timeto think. I scarcely knew the character of my own emotions. At onemoment I blushed with a sense of the web of deceit that I had woundabout him, and at another with the joyful consciousness of our mutuallove. What would he say when the truth was made known to him? Ah! but heloves me for myself alone, was the answering thought. 

I had continued to shake my head as the sole response to his burningpetition; but at last I turned to him and said that if he were contentto wait, say a year, and let his passion have time to cool, I might beless obdurate. But in the interim he was to make no effort to discovermy whereabouts, or to follow me. He must not even write to me (perhaps Ihad a secret idea that too many letters strangle love), but pursue thetenor of his way as though I had never existed. If at the end of thattime he still wished me to become his wife, it might be I should nolonger refuse. It was better for us both, I said, that we should partfor the present. He must consider himself free as air, and I shouldthink him sensible if on reflection he strove to banish me from histhoughts. 

"A year is a long time, " he answered. 

"Long enough, almost, to make a fortune in, as well as to become wiseand prudent. "

By making him wait, I should let the banking-scheme develop itself alittle further. 

When by dint of my refusal to yield further he was forced to consent tothese terms, we gave ourselves up to enjoyment of the few hours which wecould still pass together. I talked and laughed, over-bubbling withhappiness; but he would sigh ever and anon, as though he felt that Iwere about to slip from his sight to return no more. Once in the gayetyof my mood I called Ike to me, and stooped to pat his pudgy sides. "Ikethe imperious, beautifully ugly Ike!" I cried with glee, and with adaring that but for its very boldness might have disclosed all. 

But my lover was in no mood to make deductions. "You seem so joyous, Alice, one would suppose that you were glad to leave me. "

"I am joyous, --yes, very joyous, --for I have been brave enough to savethe man I love from a _mésalliance_. "

V. 

The effect on a woman of the revelation that she loves him who hasproffered her his heart, is like the awakening of buds in spring, whichbeneath the soft mysterious breath of an invisible power burst theirbonds with graceful reluctance, and shyly gladden Nature. 

It seemed to me as if I had never lived before. Unlike the untutoredpassion of my extreme youth, my happiness was calm and reflective, butnone the less satisfying. Under its sway I found it a comparatively easytask to overcome the querulousness and revive the hopes of Aunt Helen onmy return home. It was my desire, of course, to avoid any furtherdeception, and I sought refuge in silence, beyond the statement that thefuture Duke of Clyde had gone to the West without making any definiteproposal. But I assured her that he was certain to visit us within a fewmonths. 

I took up the round of my avocations as if nothing had happened. We hadhired a cottage at Newport for the summer, and there I ensconced myself, and strove by means of books and friends to keep the alternateexuberance and depression of my spirits within bounds. But though I wasat times melancholy for a sight of my lover, joy was chiefly predominantin my heart, --so much so that people commented on my cheerfulness, andAunt Helen dropped occasional hints which led me to believe shecherished secretly the opinion that I was enamoured of her idol. 

My visits to Mr. Chelm's office were of course renewed. I told him thatI had visited the street where the office of Francis Prime and Companywas situated, and had been pleased at getting a glimpse of it. In answerto my questions as to what he thought of the progress of the firm hesaid very little, except that all business was in an unsettled state, owing to the speculative spirit that had followed the long period ofstagnation. As yet, my protégé seemed to have been generally prudent, but it needed the experience of a tried business man to resist thetemptations to make money by short cuts presented at the present time. He judged from the last report sent him, that he had been lately makingone or two successful ventures in a doubtful class of securities, andhe should take it upon himself, with my permission, to give him adviceto avoid them for the future. 

I felt an eager desire to say he had already promised that thespeculation in which he was now engaged should be the last; but that ofcourse was impossible, without disclosing my secret. How should I everhave the face to make confession to Mr. Chelm when the time came, if itever did come?

As the months slipped away, I began to be haunted occasionally by thethought that a year was a longer time than I had supposed, and it mightbe that Francis Prime would take me at my word, and try to forget me. Atsuch moments my heart seemed to stand still, and a weary vista ofmonotonous and never-ceasing maidenhood arose before me. It would bepreferable to die than to be deceived now. I would not doubt; and indeedI did not doubt. But who can control the changing moods of theimagination?

I think the consciousness that such a thing as his proving false was apossibility affected my treatment of my maiden aunts, and made me moregentle and considerate in regard to their foibles. The early lives ofboth of them were sealed books to me, excepting the glimpse Aunt Helenhad given me of hers at the time of my own first sorrow. Who could tellthat there was not in their hearts some bit of cruel treachery ormisunderstanding still remembered though unmentioned, which had searedand withered existence for them? It was this feeling among others, thaturged me to write to Aunt Agnes and ask permission to spend a day or twowith her before we finally returned to town. She never left the city, preferring, as she declared, the stability of the bricks and mortar, tobeing drowned at the sea-side or mangled by cattle in the country. Rather to my surprise, she said in her answer that she had been on thepoint of writing to me herself, but would now defer mentioning thematter she had in mind until we met. 

As I had divined, the subject that was engrossing her as regards me wasthe coming visit of the Honorable Ernest Ferroll. She had heard from himat San Francisco to the effect that he was on the point of starting forthe East, and that he took the liberty of forwarding to her his lettersof introduction as preliminary to paying his respects to her in person. But on the particular evening of my arrival I found Aunt Agnesoblivious to everything except a piece of information which, though farfrom incredible to me, had evidently been to her like lightning from aclear sky. The forbidding manner in which she received me led me tofancy that I had displeased her; and remembering her previous discovery, the awful suspicion that she had ferreted out my secret seized me for aninstant. But I was speedily reassured. 

"I am glad you are here, Virginia, if only to read this. You were right, child, after all; and I am an old fool, over whose eyes any one seems tobe able to pull the wool. "

She spoke in her sternest tones, and held out to me a newspaper in whichwas the announcement of the nuptials of Mr. Charles Liversage Spence andMiss Lucretia Kingsley, --"no cards. "

"Did you not know they were engaged?" I inquired. 

"I know nothing but what you see there, " replied my aunt; "and what ismore, I wish to know nothing further. "

"They have acted for some time as if they were engaged. If they are inlove with each other it seems best that they should be married, afterall, " I said, not caring to express my opinion as to the especialfitness of the match with any greater emphasis. 

"In love with each other! What right had she to fall in love with him, Ishould like to know?" she exclaimed with indignation. "She a meredisciple, a pupil, to fall in love with the master; aspire to be thewife of a man as far superior to her as a planet to an ordinary star!Bah! Fall in love with him! Tell _me_! It was bad enough when he fell inlove with you, Virginia; but this is fifty times worse, because she knewbetter, and understood the value of celibacy to such a life. Her conductamounts to utter selfishness. "

"I think Miss Kingsley has had designs on Mr. Spence for a long time. That was why she was so bitter against me, " I said. 

"Would that you had married him, Virginia! I could have endured that. But this is disgusting! I never wish to see either of them again, "emphatically remarked Aunt Agnes. 

It was useless to represent to her that Mrs. Spence was very much inlove with her husband, and that on that account would doubtless striveto make him happy. It was the fact of their marriage that distressedher; and, unlike me, she did not think of pitying Mr. Spence because ofany flaws in the disposition of his wife. I tried therefore to dismissthe matter from the conversation as soon as possible; and before the endof the evening her mood was so far mollified that she introduced thesubject of the Honorable Ernest's arrival. 

"Yes, Virginia, " she said, "it is forty-one years ago that I made theocean passage with that young man's father, and we have correspondedever since. That is what comes of being systematic in one's habits. Now, don't go fancying that there was anything more in it than there reallywas. We were friends simply, nothing else. But a friend means somethingto me; and I mean to receive this young man into my house, and show himevery attention in my power. And you tell me that you have met him inNew York, and like him very much? I am not a match-maker, Virginia, likeyour Aunt Helen; but it would doubtless be very agreeable to both thefamilies if you young people should happen to take a fancy to eachother. Stranger things have occurred; and since it is evident to me froman intimate knowledge of your character that you are sure to marry someday, I know of no one whom it would please me so much to intrust yourfuture happiness to, as the son of my old friend. His presumptive rankwould probably weigh for more with you than with me. Provided the youngman has high principles and a steadfast purpose, I shall be content. "

I laughed gently in reply. I had made up my mind not to thwart the oldlady openly. It would be time enough for that later, if the HonorableBritain ever should come to the point. It was such a novel coincidencethat my aunts should agree for once on anything, that the thought ofputting myself in antagonism with them did not occur to me seriously fora moment. I felt the humor of the situation, and was also filled at oncewith the desire to harmonize them forever by means of this commoninterest. 

"We will see, Aunt Agnes, what he thinks of me, " I said; and all throughmy visit of two days I dropped hints of the efforts Aunt Helen had madein New York to prejudice Mr. Ferroll in my favor. 

"She has spoiled all, I dare say, by showing her hand too openly, "bristled Aunt Agnes, the first time I mentioned the subject. 

"In that case, you will have to let him have a glimpse of the Harlanpride, " I answered. "I shall depend on you not to allow me to be forcedupon him, Aunt Agnes. I am sure, however, that Aunt Helen means well inthe matter. She may be a little indiscreet, but if you were to talk itover with her I am sure you would come to a satisfactory agreement. Now, it strikes me as an excellent idea for you to come and spend a few dayswith us at Newport. It would give us both very great pleasure. Please dothink of it seriously. "

"Newport? Do you take me for a fashionable do-nothing, child? Why, youraunt wouldn't let me inside the door! I have only six dresses in theworld. Newport! Tell _me_!"

"What nonsense, Aunt Agnes! I promise you that you shall have thewarmest of welcomes if you will come, and you may, if you prefer, wearthe same dress all the time you are there. "

I did not press the matter at the moment, but I recurred to it manytimes afterwards; and as soon as I got home I told Aunt Helen of AuntAgnes' proposal to invite Mr. Ferroll to her own house, and of hergeneral enthusiasm in regard to his proposed visit. 

"Bravo!" she responded, clapping her hands. "Your aunt shows her sensefor once in her life, though one would have to be blind as a mole not tosee that this is one chance in a thousand. "

"What should you say to asking her down here for a few days?"

"Certainly, dear. She doesn't know any one, to be sure, and wouldprobably dress like an antediluvian. But people wouldn't think any thingof that, if it was whispered around that she is literary and peculiar. Ithink on the whole it would be a good plan to ask her. I can give her afew ideas as to how a nobleman should be handled. "

"Precisely, " I answered. 

Accordingly, Aunt Helen and I each wrote a most urgent letter ofinvitation; and after some further correspondence, my efforts wererewarded with the presence in my house of my father's sister. For thefirst twenty-four hours, despite my cordial welcome, I feared everymoment lest she should announce her intention of going home again. Hermanner was so stiff, and Aunt Helen's so airy, that I was apprehensiveof a catastrophe. But at last by the display of tact, and by carefullyhumoring their respective prejudices, I drew them gradually together;and when at last I was taken apart by each of them successively oneevening, to be told that save for certain unfortunate peculiarities herrival was an uncommonly sensible woman, I felt that I could safelyretire, and leave them to their day-dream of making me Duchess of Clyde. 

"Duchess or no duchess, it would be an admirable connection, " said AuntAgnes. 

"And there is no shadow of a doubt that his wife will be a duchess, "added Aunt Helen. 

 * * * * *

One day, shortly after we had returned to town, the news reached us thatthe Honorable Ernest Ferroll was in New York, and as a consequence therewas great excitement among those who had been told of his projectedvisit to our city. In her wish to make the young nobleman comfortable, Aunt Agnes had yielded to the remonstrances of her former enemy as tothe necessity of renovating her house, and accordingly was absorbed byplumbers, upholsterers, and decorators, who under the generalsupervision of Aunt Helen undermined the customs of a lifetime, butcemented this new friendship. The last touches were being put tothe improvements, and complete harmony reigned between the twoestablishments. To think of Aunt Agnes dropping in on Aunt Helen, orAunt Helen drinking tea with Aunt Agnes!

It therefore happened that I was taken very little notice of by my tworelatives, and was free to indulge the sweet current of sentiment, ofwhich they were so blissfully unaware, to my heart's content. The powerof love, and the power of money! How when united did they each illuminethe other, --they, the two greatest forces of the world!

On the morning following the day on which we heard of Mr. Ferroll'sarrival in New York, I saw a statement in the daily paper which made mestart violently. It was the announcement of the failure of Roger Dale, banker and broker, with liabilities of three millions and estimatedassets of less than one hundred thousand. I hastened to get ready tocall on Mr. Chelm, but before leaving the house I received a messagefrom him which read as follows: "Francis Prime is in town, and I havemade an appointment with him for twelve o'clock. You will please come tothe office at once, if possible. "

"What has happened, Mr. Chelm?" I asked, as I entered the room where hewas sitting. I tried to seem calm and indifferent. 

"Sit down, Miss Harlan. I am sorry to say that your friend Francis Primehas got into difficulties. Roger Dale, a rather prominent banker, hassuspended payment, and Mr. Prime happens to be one of his largestcreditors. "

"Has Mr. Prime failed also?"

"Not yet. But I see no escape for him on his own showing. Thecircumstances are peculiar, and indicate deliberate fraud on the part ofDale; but, as Prime says, he can't let his own customers suffer. "

"This is all a riddle to me, " I said, a little impatiently. "You forgetthat I do not know the facts yet. "

"The facts are simple enough; and the whole difficulty, it seems, isindirectly the result of having anything to do with men who takeimproper risks. As I told you the other day, young Prime has been eggedon by the large sums he has seen made in a few days by others, to gojoint account with this man Dale, who has had the reputation of beingvery shrewd and successful, and who, by the way, comes from this city. The speculations turned out very well, especially this last one, whichour friend tells me was to have been his last. "

"Yes, I am sure it was, " I answered excitedly. 

Mr. Chelm looked at me with a blank sort of gaze. "Very likely, " heobserved, with a dry smile. "Well, as I was saying, this like the otherswas profitable, and Prime not only had enriched himself but some of hiscustomers who had taken the risk with him. The money was paid to him, and he made reports of the same to his customers. But the same day Dalecame in and asked Prime to loan him over night the sum he had just paidin, as a personal favor. Prime says he hesitated, not because hesuspected anything, but on grounds of common prudence. It seemed to him, however, that it would be churlish and punctilious to refuse toaccommodate the man to whom he owed his good fortune, and so he lent themoney. Next day, Dale failed disgracefully. Of course Mr. Prime feelsbound in honor to pay his customers their profits, which happen toexceed his capital. There is the whole story. "

"I see. And what do you advise me to do?" I asked, after a pause. 

"Do?" Mr. Chelm shrugged his shoulders. "I do not see that you can doanything. "

"I can pay his debts. "

"You can pay his debts, and you can found a Home for unsuccessfulmerchant-princes, if you choose, but not with my consent. "

"He has behaved very honorably. "

"Pooh! Any honest man would do the same. "

"You say he will be here at twelve?"

"At twelve. "

"Why did you ask him to come back?"

"You interrogate like a lawyer. I told him I would communicate with myprincipal. "

"Did he ask for help?"

"Not at all. He was ready to 'stand the racket, ' he said. He merelywished to state the facts. He blamed himself for lack of discretion, andI could not contradict him. He was immaculate as ever in his personalappearance, but he looked pale. "

"Poor fellow!"

"Yes, it is unfortunate, I admit. But it will teach him a lesson. A manwho wishes to become a merchant-prince cannot afford to trust anybody. "

"What a doctrine!"

"Business and sentiment are incompatible. "

I was silent a moment. "Mr. Chelm, when he comes here at twelve, I wantyou to tell him that he shall not fail, and that I will pay his debts. "

"Miss Harlan, do not be so foolish, I beseech you!"

"But I will do this only on one condition, and that is, --that he willmarry me. "

"What!"

I blushed before the lawyer's gaze and exclamation. 

"Marry you?"

"Yes, Mr. Chelm. Do not be too much surprised. Trust me. I know what Iam doing, believe me. Have I not hitherto usually been moderatelysensible?"

"Up to this time I have regarded you as an uncommonly wise young woman;but this is sheer madness. "

"As you please. But you will comply with my request if I insist?"

"He will accept the offer. "

"If he does, you are to give me away, you remember. But I am sure hewill not accept. "

"You were sure he would make a fortune. "

"But it was you who put the idea of marrying him into my head. "

"I am to be made to bear the blame, of course. There is one hope, however, --he thinks you sixty-five. "

"Ah! but he must be undeceived. You must tell him I am young and verybeautiful. "

"What madness is this, Virginia?"

"Trust me, Mr. Chelm, and do what I ask you. "

"Very well. "

"You will tell him?"

"If you insist. "

"And I shall be in the other room and overhear it all. Stop, one thingmore. In case he refuses, make him promise to come to see me thisafternoon for a half hour. That at least he will not have thediscourtesy to deny me. But only if he refuses, mind. "

"Do you really wish me to make this offer?" said Mr. Chelm, as a lastappeal. 

"I was never more in earnest in my life, " I replied. 

A half hour later, Mr. Prime entered, followed as usual by Ike. I hadmade Mr. Chelm promise that he would leave no argument unused to induceFrancis to accept my offer. He looked pale and worn, but there wasnothing despairing or otherwise than manly in his air. 

"I have seen my principal, sir, " said Mr. Chelm with abruptness. "She isvery sorry for you. "

"I thank her with all my heart. And some day I hope to be able torestore to her the money which I have lost through my credulity. "

"It is of that I wish to speak. Please sit down. My client does notwish you to fail. She will pay your debts. "

"Impossible!"

"Please do not interrupt me. But she demands of you a favor in return. "

"It is hers to command, whatever it is; but I will take no more money. "

"Wait until you hear what I have to say. In consideration of what shehas done for you, and what she is ready to do for you, she asks you tobecome her husband. "

"Her husband?"

"Yes, that is the favor. "

Francis Prime stood confounded, as if he were doubting either his sanityor that of his companion. 

"Her husband? Wishes me to become her husband?"

"Why not? She loves you. "

"She is an old lady, you told me. "

"Did I? I was trying to conceal from you then that she is young andexcessively beautiful. I will tell you more. She is worth four millionsin her own right. "

"What is her name?"

"That I will tell you also, --Miss Virginia Harlan. "

"I have heard of her. And she loves me?"

"Desperately. Come, sir, you hesitate, it seems to me. This is a chancethat does not come every day. "

"Heavens and earth, what am I to say?"

"Say you accept. You asked my advice once, and now I give it to youagain. "

"But I do not love her. "

"A mere bagatelle. You would very soon. "

"I am of another opinion. I could never love her, for the reason, "--hepaused an instant, --"for the reason that I love some one else. "

"Ah! if you are married, that settles it. "

"I am not married. "

"Young man, you are a great fool then. " The lawyer was really waxingangry. "This young lady is the superior of any man I know. You arethrowing away a prize. "

"That may be, sir. But if you recall a speech I made in this office somesix months ago, you will remember that I said I was a gentleman. If Ishould accept the offer you make me, I should be one no longer. And Iprize my reputation in that respect more than I cherish anything in theworld. "

"This sounds well, sir, but it is childishness. You are bound to makemy client amends for your folly. It is in your power to marry her, andif you are a man you will make her that reparation. "

"Excuse me, Mr. Chelm, it would be foolish for us to argue longer onthis point. I will call again to-morrow, when we are both less excited. Do not think I wish time to reflect, for my decision is final. But Ishould like your client to know that I am not wholly an ingrate. To-morrow, if you say so, at the same hour. "

"Stop one moment. I have one more request to make of you, which you canhardly refuse, perverse as you seem to be. My client expressed the wishthat in case you should decide as you have done, you would call upon herthis evening at her own house. "

Francis bit his lip. "I should be obliged to make the same answer. "

"The subject, sir, will not be broached. "

"Certainly, then, I will come. "

It was with difficulty that I could restrain myself from rushing intothe room and falling at his feet; but when I knew that he was gone, Iwent up to Mr. Chelm with the tears in my eyes. 

"I did my best for you, Virginia. But the fellow is right. He is agentleman. I hated him for causing you such pain, but if he loves someone else--well--one can scarcely blame him. "

"I told you he would refuse me. Do not mind my tears; and promise methat you will come to-night. "

"What new mystery is this?"

"Never you mind; only promise that you will come. "

 * * * * *

How shall I describe that meeting? To begin with, I went home and brokethe news to Aunt Helen and Aunt Agnes that my husband to be was to passthe evening with us, and for the moment did not break to them anotherbit of news I had heard before leaving Mr. Chelm, --that the HonorableErnest Ferroll, having made a large fortune in the stock market throughthe agency of Mr. Dale, had withdrawn it from his hands in time, so asnot to have it swallowed up by the failure, and had sailed for England. It was money he wanted, not me. 

But both my aunts, poor old ladies, fancied, I fear, that it was thefuture Duke of Clyde who was to be the guest of the evening; and whenFrancis Prime was ushered in, although he looked distinguished enough tobe a Prince, Aunt Helen, at least, suspected that there was somethingwrong. As I afterwards learned, her air towards my lover was distant andhaughty; and as Aunt Agnes had begun of late to imitate her formerenemy, his reception was not cordial. But while he was looking from oneto another with some hesitation, Mr. Chelm, who was standing in onecorner of the room, by previous agreement pulled away the drapery thatcovered the portrait of me painted by Paul Barr, which stood in themiddle of the room. 

Francis gave a start, and flung up both his hands. "Who is that?" hecried. 

"That, sir, is my niece, " replied Aunt Helen with haughtiness. "Are younot acquainted with her?"

"Impossible! It is Alice Bailey. "

"Yes, Francis, " I said, coming into the room, "it is Alice Bailey; butit is Virginia Harlan as well. The power of love and the power of money!My own sweet husband, you are mine forever, --that is, if you will haveme. Ike the imperious, beautifully ugly Ike, "--for I had released thedog from the vestibule to share our happiness, --"you are mine now, aswell as his. "

It was thus that I gave expression to my happiness, clasped in the armsof him I loved, and who loved me, while the others were too dazed tospeak. But when the time came for me to be given away, it was Mr. Chelmwho said the necessary words. 

In adding that my aunts never quarrelled again, I have told of myautobiography all that can possibly interest the public. 

 * * * * *

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The Northern Pacific Railway's Great Romance. 

THE GOLDEN SPIKE. 

By EDWARD KING. 12mo. $1. 50. 

 "One of the brightest and freshest works of fiction of the season. It is breezy and inspiring, and the author's vigorous and graceful style was never displayed to better advantage. It takes the reader from London to America, through the marvellous Northwest, and describes scenery and customs with a picturesqueness and truthfulness that will thoroughly absorb the attention of even the most _blasé_ novel reader. "--_Boston Budget. _

 "Whoever begins to read it will, under its charm, find it difficult to do anything else until it is finished. The author, in fact, takes us through wonderland at a pace something like that of the railway described. Minnesota, Dakota, Idaho, Montana, Oregon, Washington Territory, and British Columbia are spread out before us in most graphic descriptions. In conclusion, we may state that Mr. King's book is exceedingly attractive. "--_Galignani's Messenger_ (Paris). 

=TICKNOR AND COMPANY, Boston. =

JAPANESE HOMES

AND THEIR SURROUNDINGS. By EDWARD S. MORSE, Ph. D. , Director of thePeabody Academy of Science, late Professor of Tokio University, Japan, Member National Academy of Science, Fellow American Academy of Arts andSciences, etc. With 300 illustrations. 8vo. Richly bound. $5. 00. 

 "It is a satisfactory and valuable work, and in its way unique. "--_New York Tribune. _

 "It is one of the most important of works ever written about one of the most fascinating of countries. "--_Boston Herald. _

 "The time is ripest now for the very charming acquaintance we get from Mr. Morse's book with these homes. The book will be read by all Americans with great profit. "--_New York Commercial Advertiser. _

 * * * * *

CHOSÖN:

THE LAND OF THE MORNING CALM. A Sketch of Korea. By PERCIVAL LOWELL, Foreign Secretary to the Korean Embassy, Member Asiatic Society ofJapan, etc. Richly illustrated after photographs taken in Korea. 8vo. $5. 00. 

 "A great deal more than a mere narrative of residence in Korea. It goes to the bottom of the whole question of the main characteristics of the three far-Eastern nations, China, Japan, and Korea, mixing philosophical views, new information, personal recollections, and witty remarks in such fashion as to conciliate the tastes of all classes of readers. .. . Fortunately for the subject, it has been taken in hand by one who had the _verve_ of youth allied with the curiosity of the scientist. These serve as torches that light up with a picturesque beauty the cavernous recesses of the Hermit Kingdom. .. . The extreme beauty of the illustrations. "--_The Japan Gazette_ (Yokohama). 

 "An interesting and poetic account of a strange, sad country. "--_Boston Advertiser. _

 "A most readable book, sumptuously got up. "--_New York Commercial Advertiser. _

 "We could not spare one of these four hundred pages. "--_New York Sun. _

 "A work of unique merit. "--_New York Telegram. _

 "A charming volume. "--_Christian Register. _

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 * * * * *

AMERICAN GUIDE-BOOKS. 

The best companions of all who wish to get the largest possible amountof pleasure out of a summer journey. The history, poetry, and legends ofeach locality. Scores of maps and panoramas. Prices and locations ofhotels, summer resorts, and routes. Newly revised. 400 to 500 pageseach. $1. 50 each. 

 "The Osgood Guide-books are much the best we have ever had in this country, and they can challenge comparison with Baedeker's, which is the best in Europe. The volume devoted to the White Mountains is full, precise, compact, sensible, and honest. "--_New York Tribune. _

NEW ENGLAND. 

A guide to its cities and resorts, scenery and history. With 16 maps andplans. $1. 50. 

 "It is a faithful, painstaking piece of work, and condenses into brief compass a vast amount of information, which all tourists to the summer resorts of New England will gladly possess. "--_New York Evening Post. _

THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. 

450 pages; 6 maps and 6 panoramas. $1. 50. 

 "As perfect a thing of its kind as could well be produced. It is simply indispensable to all who visit or sojourn among the White Mountains. "-_Congregationalist. _

THE MARITIME PROVINCES. 

Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Newfoundland, and Labrador. With 8 maps and plans. $1. 50. 

 "By its intrinsic value, copiousness of information, and impartiality, it is likely to take the place of all other guides to Canada which we know of. "--_Quebec Chronicle. _

 * * * * *

THE SAUNTERER. 

By CHARLES GOODRICH WHITING. Illustrated. $1. 25. 

 "A book of unusual quality and charm. Mr. Whiting is a born poet, whose prose is often as distinctly and delightfully poetic as his verse. He is a born nature lover; few young literary men know our New England weeds, pastures, hills, and rivers so intimately, in all weathers and under all skies, or have written of them so well. "--_Hartford Courant. _

THE STORIED SEA. 

By MRS. GEN. LEW WALLACE. $1. 00. 

 "This airily graceful little book carries within it something of the salt sweetness of the sea, of the fantastic glow of the Orient, and the cool beauty of classic shores. "--_New York Tribune. _

NANTUCKET SCRAPS. 

By MRS. JANE G. AUSTIN. $1. 50. 

OVER THE BORDER. 

By MISS E. B. CHASE. With Nova Scotia Views and Map. $1. 50. 

=TICKNOR AND COMPANY, Boston. =

 * * * * *

THE CHOICEST NOVELS. 

 The Story of Margaret Kent. By Henry Hayes $1. 50 The Prelate. By Isaac Henderson 1. 50 Next Door. By Clara Louise Burnham 1. 50 Dr. Sevier. By George W. Cable 1. 50 For a Woman. By Nora Perry 1. 00 Eustis. By Robert Apthorp Boit 1. 50 A Woman of Honor. By H. C. Bunner 1. 25 Aubert Dubayet. By Chas. Gayarré 2. 00 John Rantoul. By Henry Loomis Nelson 1. 50 The Duchess Emilia. By Barrett Wendell 1. 50 Daisy Miller. By Henry James 1. 50 A Reverend Idol 1. 50 Where the Battle was Fought. By Charles Egbert Craddock 1. 50 The Led-Horse Claim. By Mary Hallock Foote 1. 25 Miss Ludington's Sister. By Edward Bellamy 1. 25 Eleanor Maitland. By Clara Erskine Clement 1. 25 A Washington Winter. By Madeleine Vinton Dahlgren 1. 50 Her Washington Season. By Jeanie Gould Lincoln 1. 50 His Two Wives. By Mary Clemmer 1. 50 Dr. Grimshawe's Secret. By Nathaniel Hawthorne 1. 50 A Midsummer Madness. By Ellen Olney Kirk 1. 25 The Lost Name. By Madeleine Vinton Dahlgren 1. 00

 HENRY JAMES'S

 The Siege of London $1. 50 The Author of Beltraffio 1. 50 Tales of Three Cities 1. 50

 ROSE TERRY COOKE'S

 The Sphinx's Children $1. 50 Somebody's Neighbors 1. 50

 EDMUND QUINCY'S

 Wensley $1. 50 The Haunted Adjutant 1. 50

 NORA PERRY'S

 Book of Love Stories $1. 00

 MR. HOWELLS'S NOVELS. 

 Indian Summer $1. 50 The Rise of Silas Lapham 1. 50 A Woman's Reason 1. 50 A Modern Instance 1. 50 Dr. Breen's Practice 1. 50 A Fearful Responsibility 1. 50

 JULIAN HAWTHORNE'S

 Love--or a Name $1. 50 Fortune's Fool 1. 50 Beatrix Randolph 1. 50

 EDGAR FAWCETT'S

 Tinkling Cymbals $1. 50 Adventures of a Widow 1. 50 Social Silhouettes 1. 50

 ROBERT GRANT'S

 Confessions of a Frivolous Girl $1. 25 An Average Man 1. 50 The Knave of Hearts 1. 25

 EDWARD KING'S

 The Golden Spike $1. 50 The Gentle Savage 2. 00

 E. W. HOWE'S

 A Moonlight Boy $1. 50 The Story of a Country Town 1. 50 The Mystery of the Locks 1. 50

 BLANCHE W. HOWARD'S

 Guenn $1. 50 Aulnay Tower 1. 50 Aunt Serena 1. 25

 HENRY GREVILLE'S

 Dosia's Daughter $1. 25 Cleopatra 1. 25

_For sale by all booksellers. Sent, postpaid, on receipt of the price, by the publishers, _

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 * * * * *

THE FAMILIAR LETTERS

OF

_Peppermint Perkins_. 

16mo, Illustrated. 

$1. 00. In paper covers, 50 cents. 

 "These letters have attracted much attention in many quarters, and the orders for them have come in in large numbers from every State in the Union. They are original, bright, and breezy, and seem to strike a familiar chord everywhere. "--_Boston Gazette. _

 "A series of papers touching pretty sharply (and very funnily withal) upon fashion, society customs, personal frivolity, and ridiculous pretensions generally. These are addressed to her friend, 'Poesie Plympton' (who is abroad) in a spirit of most charming abandon, revealing such a familiarity with the scenes and subjects that she writes about that no one can doubt she has been among them taking notes, while her style indicates her femininity, though there are many who doubt it. There has nothing more piquant, spicy, and unconventional ever been published in Boston, and Peppermint 'takes the cake. '"--_Hartford Post. _

 "These letters attracted not a little attention at the Hub for their audacity in kicking over the classic styles and violating all the established dogmas of dignity and lofty intellectuality. They are a reaction from the strain and intensity of ordinary Boston life, and thus supply a clearly defined want. This explains their local popularity, and gives, also, a reason why the outside world should turn the pages of the book as a sort of mirror reflecting a phase of Boston culture. It purports to be written by a woman, but there are indications that the character is assumed. "--_New York Home Journal. _

 "This bright series of amusing comments on characteristic failings of the last decade . .. Are supposed to be the weekly budgets of news written by a young girl in Boston to a dear friend in Venice. .. . 'Emergency lectures, ' fashionable religion, amateur cooking, horse-car politeness, servants, summer hotels, symphony concerts, and other Boston topics are wittily touched upon, and the frailty of human nature, especially of feminine human nature, is most mercilessly exposed in the various phases which they suggest. "--_The Commercial Bulletin. _

=TICKNOR AND COMPANY, BOSTON. =

 * * * * *

LIFE OF HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Edited by REV. SAMUEL LONGFELLOW. 2 vols. 12mo. With 5 newsteel-engraved portraits and many wood engravings and fac-similes. Incloth, $6. 00; in half calf, with marble edges, $11. 00; in half morocco, with gilt top and rough edges, $11. 00. 

 "Altogether the most fascinating book that has been published for months. It is full of the most interesting and picturesque and poetic things. "--_Boston Record. _

 "One thinks of the gentle scholar as a man who can never have made an enemy, or lost a friend; and we lay down his autobiography (for such the book can fairly be called) with a feeling that in these posthumous pages he has opened a view of his own soul as beautiful as the creations of his fancy. "--_New York Tribune. _

 "It is an admirable piece of biographical work, and the story of the poet's career gives a view of the growth of American literature that is full of instruction and interest. It is a book that is sure to become a classic both in this country and England, and, indeed, in cultivated circles throughout the world. "--_Boston Budget. _

 "It is needless to add that the publication of these noble volumes is the literary event of the day, that all continents will greet it with delight, and that coming ages will quote it affectionately in recalling that Longfellow was not only a pure and great poet, which is much, but also a pure and great man, which is more. "--_The Beacon_ (Boston). 

 "These volumes tell the story of his life with exquisite taste; they also unfold a panorama of the literary history of America, and are among the rare and monumental books of the present century. "--_Chicago Inter-Ocean. _

 * * * * *

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE AND HIS WIFE. 

By JULIAN HAWTHORNE. With portraits newly engraved on steel andvignettes. Two vols. 12mo. In cloth, $5. 00. Half morocco or half calf, $9. 00. Edition de luxe, numbered copies, $12. 00. 

 The fullest and most charming accounts of Hawthorne's ancestry and family; his boyhood and youth; his courtship and marriage; his life at Salem, Lenox, and Concord; his travels and residence in England and Italy; his later life in America; and his chief works and their motives and origins. 

 "It increases my admiration for the character of Hawthorne and my respect for his genius as an author. "--_R. H. Stoddard, in The Critic. _

 "The most charming biography of the year, pure and sweet from the beginning to end. "--_The Beacon_ (Boston). 

 "Colored with the very hues of life, and bearing the signature of truth. The reader will close the book with a new admiration for the pure-minded and honest gentleman who was the greatest original writer our country has produced. "--New _York Tribune. _

 "And so the inspiration left behind by this biography is that of increase of happy faith in the power of high, disinterested love to transmute the prose of daily life into poetry, to give beauty for ashes, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. "--_Boston Herald. _

 "Leaves on the mind of the reader a clear perception of Hawthorne's moral and intellectual character, a vivid impression of his personal traits, disposition, and habits, as manifested in the alternations of work and play, in the study, in the family, and in society, and a singularly distinct and life-like image of his person. "--_George William Curtis, in Harper's Magazine. _

=TICKNOR AND COMPANY, Boston. =

 * * * * *

JOHN BODEWIN'S TESTIMONY. 

By MARY HALLOCK FOOTE, author of "Led-Horse Claim, " etc. 1 vol. 12mo. $1. 50. 

 "Mrs. Foote is only to be compared with our best women novelists. To make this comparison briefly, Miss Woolson observes keenly, Mrs. Burnett writes charmingly, and Mrs. Foote feels intensely. "--_The Critic. _

NEXT DOOR. 

By CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM, author of "Dearly Bought, " "No Gentlemen, " etc. $1. 50. 

 "'Next Door' is a love story, pure and simple. The conversations are vivacious, with an exceptional charm. The tone of the book is refined and pure, and it will make itself an especial favorite among the summer novels. "--_Boston Traveller. _

TWO COLLEGE GIRLS. 

By HELEN DAWES BROWN. 12mo. $1. 50. 

 "A really bright and fresh story. .. . The author has given happy expression in a buoyant spirit to a bit of real life of to-day. "--_New York Commercial Advertiser. _

 "It will undoubtedly receive great attention, from the fact that it has a value wholly aside from the usual literary value of fiction. It marks an era in American literary art. "--_Boston Traveller. _

THE SPHINX'S CHILDREN. 

By ROSE TERRY COOKE. 12mo. $1. 50. 

Delightful stories of hill-country life in the quaintest and mostsingular parts of New England, set forth with the sparkle and therealism of a Parisian _feuilletonist_. 

 "In spite of a style which is carefully clear and elegant, in spite of a tone that is wonderfully pure and healthy, what one remembers longest in Mrs. Cooke's writings is these dialect passages, forgetting for their sake her delectable descriptions of quaint, old-fashioned gardens, pretty girls, odd old maids, and odder old men, and even forgetting the bit of moral usually concealed in each story. "--_Boston Transcript. _

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MR. HOWELLS'S LATEST NOVEL. 

_Sixth Edition Now Ready. _

INDIAN SUMMER. 

1 vol. 12mo. $1. 50. 

 The "Christian Register" says that it has more of sweetness than all Howells's previous works, that its local color is exquisite, and that "the situation could not be more attractive than it is. "

 The London "Saturday Review" says: "Around and beneath it all is the exquisite Italian atmosphere, in which no one knows better than Mr. Howells how to steep his pictures. "

 The Chicago "Tribune" also finds this subtle characterization: "The city to which Mr. Howells leads his readers is not the revelling, brilliant Florence of Ouida. It is rather the Florence of Hawthorne, --quaint and dreamful. The story reminds one of a plant which grows in Old-World gardens, --so unobtrusive it is, and yet so rich in suggestion, so subtle-scented. "

 The last "Lippincott's Magazine" says: "It will rank with the most charming of the author's work. .. . It is almost his first spiritual work. Not only has Mr. Howells thus risen above his own standards in this latest work, but he has risen above the standard of other novelists in one unique respect. "

 * * * * *

_Twelfth Thousand now ready. _

THE RISE OF SILAS LAPHAM. 

By W. D. HOWELLS. $1. 50. 

 "'The Rise of Silas Lapham' invited more discussion than any serial since 'Daniel Deronda. '"--_Publisher's Weekly. _

 "The dust of his writings is fine gold. Delightful in its perfection. "--_Philadelphia Record. _

 "The high-water mark of Mr. Howells's great and unique photographic genius. "--_Pall Mall Gazette. _

 "A work of genius; a great and perfect work of its kind. "--_New York Star. _

NEW EDITIONS OF MR. HOWELLS'S NOVELS. ($1. 50 each. )

 A MODERN INSTANCE. DR. BREEN'S PRACTICE. A WOMAN'S REASON. A FEARFUL RESPONSIBILITY. 

 "There has been no more rigidly artistic writing done in America since Hawthorne's time. "--_The Critic. _

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